| The Onlooker | ||||
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6 The Twins - including the irrepressible one On the morning of July 9th, 1888, in our home at Walthamstow, we heard Walter, our eldest brother, shouting excitedly at the top of his voice to his sister, "Liz, come quick, there's two of them." My sister, Edith, and I sat up in bed wondering what all the fuss was about. Elizabeth burst into our room with the news - "There's two baby girls one dark the other fair - both of them ours." "Two," we said, "it can't be two, one must be Mrs Walker's." She was the maternity nurse in attendance. So, we welcomed into our home Henrietta Lilian and Beatrice Maud. Identical twins? Oh no! Very far from it, exactly opposite would be nearer the mark. Both in appearance and dispositions they seemed to be entirely different, the one from the other. Henrietta's mop of black hair from the start which was quickly replaced by soft wavy chestnut curls. Beatrice, almost bare at first, but later on grew to fair unruly straight hair. The one learned quickly to smile ever the shy smile as she edged closer to her mother. The other, as if eager to be off and away on her adventures, kicked about and laughed as if she saw a great joke in the big world into which she was born. Again, the one gentle, thoughtful, tidy in habits and person; the other never caring a bit about tidiness, dashing about here and there in ecstasy and joy, skipping, running, jumping while her quiet sister walked sedately along. The one just eager to be home to her mother and never wishing to move from her side, the other finding most of her joys outside the home being friends with everyone. The story of Henrietta Lilian is soon told for she died before she was nine - the only one who passed away in childhood which was remarkable for those days in such a large family. She had left, however, her impact on the home. We missed her quiet presence. She had been quite a healthy child, looking always more colourful than her twin sister. She plodded on at school, careful with her writing and her sums. Her conduct too was exemplary. She could knit and do needlework with the same careful neatness. One of her teachers showed her how to crochet and she made many pairs of woollen cuffs which were worn over the wrists by almost everyone in winter. These were made with a crochet-hook in a stitch which the teacher showed her. Then came one of those influenza epidemics which were so frequent in these years, and my mother was stricken with it. Hetty (as we called her) fretted after her mother so much that Mother said, "Let her come in." Coming into the room was not sufficient for Hetty - she climbed on to the bed and snuggled down beside her and, for a time, no-one could move her. A day or two after, the child was feverish and unwell and had to be kept in bed. She had caught the epidemic. It lasted a long time with the child but eventually she got up, apparently well. She went back to school, but had lost her healthy appearance and, being thin and lethargic, she was only back for a short time when it was noticed that she had a temperature and she took to her bed again. For two years she gradually wasted away. She was in hospital for a short time, but she gained no strength as she fretted as badly for her mother. When Mother fetched her home she was so light that mother carried her in her arms and a woman in the bus asked what was the matter with her baby. The reply was that she was no longer a baby, she was nearly eight years old. She was in bed nearly all the time after this - doctors called the complaint by various names - low fever, wasting disease and consumption. Of course it was what is now known as tuberculosis. There was nothing done for the sufferers in those days, they just lingered on, losing flesh, getting weaker and weaker, until life faded out. She suffered a good deal but she was often very bright and cheerful. It was typical of her that she kept different shades of hair ribbon in a box under her pillow. These were straightened out each night and a fresh one put on the next morning. "Blue one to-day please, mamma." And she had to look in the glass to see that it was well tied and the hair quite tidy. Her twin sister would sometimes want to come and sit with her, she would be told, "Tidy your hair first then." She died a month or two before her 9th birthday. Now, Beatrice, boisterous and careless but just as lovable, remained. She was a remarkable child, she enjoyed life to the full from the very start. She loved everybody she met, consequently everyone loved her. She was in trouble continuously at school. When she first started (and we all started at three years of age) she was often put in the corner or sometimes inside the fireguard. She would come home and confess to us all - "I just cannot be good." Mother would say, "But you must try." "Alright mamma, I will really try to-morrow." But, alas, there was trouble again but little Beatrice said, "I was put in the fireguard again but a little boy was in there too and he was such a nice little boy." She was very conscientious, though, at that young age. She would confess her wrong doings to someone and there was always a promise to try again. She told me once that she had been dishonest. She was still in the Infants School. It must have been near Christmas time for the teacher put on the board the word mistletoe and asked if anyone could find out what the word was. She puzzled over it and then said, "Miss tie toe," sounding the middle "t" and the teacher said, "That's right, it's mistletoe." She had not connected it with the decoration we used at Christmas and felt she should have confessed. After Hetty's death she quietened down somewhat putting her gift of friendship to some practical use. We were now, of course, living at Clapton, in a typically suburban row of houses. Beatrice actually knew the names of all the people in the road and much of their history. She laughed and chatted with them all - offered to run errands for those mothers who were tired and was invited into many of their homes. She would tell me so-and-so's husband is ill, or someone had lost a baby, or one was very poor. Her sympathies were as wide as her world, she took everyone in, and her spirits were always so high that she left these people happy and at ease. The people in the various shops on the High Road knew her too. She would tell me of Mr Smith who had a little girl just her age and Mr Brown who would just love to have a little girl but he hadn't any children. She was the only one who could get round my father. She had only to say, "Oh, I know you don't mean that, do you papa?" in her wheedling voice and our strict "papa" gave way. She was irresistible. One day a party of men came to the road to dig, laying pipes for gas, I think it was. Some people insist it must have been electricity but I am almost certain it was gas. I know that electricity was in use at the time, because my father had told us of the wonderful lights which had been introduced at the Guildhall. One just turned on a switch and it came alight. He experimented with it one day and put his key against the switch with the result that the key twisted up and the top of one of his fingers was burned. There was no insulation in those days. Besides this, I can remember for a long time in my childhood we used lamps with the daily filling with paraffin. Then when the gas came into the road, it was laid on with 1d in the slot for 25ft. We were provided with five lights and a gas stove for cooking. The light was not very good. It was a fan shaped flame at the end of a pendant and there was no shade. We did not have electricity until we moved back again to Walthamstow in 1902. But to return to the men digging. They had a brazier on which they boiled water and sometimes heated up something for their dinner. My young sister soon made friends with them and with the promise of secrecy she told me she took them a potato every day from Mother's vegetable basket. She got out of them which road they were going to do next and followed them round the borough with her potatoes. I often pleaded with her to try to be good. She never reproved me for my prudery - only laughed gently and said, "There were many ways of being good." How often I wished in after years that I had exercised more sense of humour, and seen the happiness in her life which was so infectious, and could have been a great help to my solemn view of life. This love of fun continued throughout her school days. She could not see any use in half the lessons we did and frequently made fun of them and whispered something funny to those around her. She was often scolded and yet the teachers liked her. Often, though, they would lose patience and give her one hundred lines to do, which was the usual punishment in those days. There was no set exercise for this and one day she prefaced them with a quotation she had found in the Bible. "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage." Another time, in a science lesson, she was accused of not listening and was told to write out all she remembered of the lesson. She showed me an effusion something like this. She had made a story of a man who was fond of sitting in the bath all day and letting the water run until it overflowed - then he said, "I have found out how many pints my body measured," but he did not have to store his body in pint bottles. This was called boil's law because I suppose he thought the water boiled as it ran over. I remonstrated with her on showing this and said he would be very angry but she said, "Oh, they never look at what we write." Anyway, this time he did look - she said - she was frightened but he put in on the table and turned away. She saw it there afterwards and managed to smuggle it away. Again, one day she had lines to do for all the classes she had been in that day. She looked at the paper in dismay, how could she do all that in one evening? So she thought she must get some to wait. Ah! Miss Bruce she was the softest-hearted - she would approach her first. Miss Bruce was sympathetic when Beatrice said, "Would you wait for another day?" and to my sister's delight she said, "Well, suppose we forget it this once and you try to do better?" Of course, Beatrice was effusive in her thanks, but the thought came quickly to her mind. "That plea was successful what about trying another?" And she went through the whole list with the same result and got let off the whole lot. I often wonder whether they conferred together afterwards and discovered how they had been duped, but possibly they were afraid of confessing their weakness one to the other. Strange to say, even from the start Beatrice was deeply religious. She was fond of her Sunday School teachers and they of her. She followed a band round the streets and stood listening earnestly to what was being said. She even attended prayer meetings. Although she never succeeded in getting a prize for day school lessons, she surprised us all one year by coming out top in the local Scripture examinations which comprised all the non-conformist Sunday Schools in Hackney. How quick she was, too, at repartee. My eldest sister was walking out with a young man. Apparently another of her admirers asked Beatrice was that her brother Elizabeth was going home with. "Oh no," said the irrepressible one, "he is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." II Well, school days at length were over but not the fun and adventure of life. It was then the great calamity happened in our family - the death of our father. There was so little coming in and life was going to be difficult. My eldest brother must have been earning a good wage in those days. But he had entered the bad, selfish period of his life and said he could not increase his allowance to the family. He wanted to get married as soon as possible. I had just gained a scholarship which would admit me to a day college free of charge with twenty pound allowance for books. He said I must not go. I must get a place at once. Beatrice was then fourteen, but a very small child and was wearing, at the time, little sailor blouses and pleated skirts with very childish looking hats. How we laughed when she declared she could leave school and go to work. But she had her scheme. Her Sunday School teacher and her sister ran an office for training shorthand-typists and professed to find positions for the girls after two years training. As Beatrice made very little progress at school we all felt this seemed a sound scheme. When the proprietress saw her she said, "She will have to wear a long shirt and put up her hair." This caused more amusement in the family. We could not imagine it. However, she soon surmounted this difficulty and really made herself look very nice and adapted herself very well to the grown-up style. She was known in the office as "the Imp" as she was always up to one trick or another. Miss Ellen Rothery Smith was not at all pleased with her progress as a shorthand-typist and really underestimated her ability in other directions. For the second year of this apprenticeship the girls were sent out on temporary jobs to anyone who applied for one. Miss Smith hesitated about letting Beatrice go but, one day, there was no one else and Beatrice was sent. She had a good report, which pleased and surprised the head of the office, but her surprise was doubled when the same man wanted a permanent clerk and said he wanted the clever young lady he had had previously. In this first office job she was the only clerk. The proprietor had invented a new kind of pump and one of the first things Beatrice did was to learn all she could of the mechanism of this article, so that she could understand all the references to it in the letters she wrote. If the "boss" was out, and anyone came in concerning the pump, she would tell him all about it and keep him well employed until the manager returned. However, the pump did not succeed and another place had to be found for the clerk. Someone heard she was likely to be in need of a job and came hurriedly round to the office to see if she would like to come to him. This was a Swedish iron firm. The owner himself was a Swede and nearly all the clerks in the office were foreigners and all of them male. There was consternation among them when they heard that a woman shorthand-typist was to be introduced to the office. This was an opportunity Beatrice was very glad to have. By nature she was an internationalist and this widened her outlook tremendously. She became especially friendly with a Mr Danielsen who was a Swede and professedly, an atheist and a German named Auconbach. These two she often brought to our house and went with them for walks in Epping Forest. In this way she got to know the political and religious views rampant in those years before the first world war. Now, you will be wondering what became of her religious views with this impact with the wide world. So we must go back a few years to see how her young mind was developing. She had started in the Mission school near our home and it was here that she followed the open-air meetings and became so ardent a religionist. She was very loyal to this school and mission and although one by one we left it, as we grew older, she declared she never would. However, she succumbed to the general trend and left when she was about thirteen and joined a Bible class at the Baptist Church we were all attending at that time. She was very original in her thinking and often asked questions which astonished us all and which we all thought rather silly. One day she said very seriously. "How is it some people are rich and some are poor, it seems all wrong to me." This was when she was very small but seems to be the beginning of a mind opening to new thoughts, religious and social. In the Bible class, of which she became a member, discussions were held on many subjects and she often decried orthodox views and could always give her reasons. One summer holiday, she said to me, "I am satisfied with the teaching and services at our church. Will you come with me to some other denominations and see what they are like?" This started a trek to find out the differences of Christian ideas and she marvelled but found none satisfactory. We were, by this time, back again in Walthamstow where my eldest sister and I were both teaching. At the back of our house at the corner of a turning was a large vacant plot. One day a board was placed here which said reserved for the building of a Friends' Meeting House. We talked about it with interest but Beatrice did more than this, she began finding out all she could about the Society of Friends. It was not until the building was erected and opened that she announced she was going there to the first Sunday meeting. When she returned she confided in me that she had, at last, found the Church she wished to attend. I went with her quite a bit and thus learned a good deal about this interesting and progressive society. Our two younger boys went to a Junior Adult School held there at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning. Here, handicrafts were taught and lectures given on topical subjects followed by free discussion. The whole set-out attracted me very much but my mother urged me to remain loyal to the Baptist cause. Beatrice, however, continued and found there her first work in a Christian Church. She was only fourteen, but asked if she could have a class of small children. She was very successful in this and worked very hard in preparation for the lessons she gave her little ones. At this time there had come from Canada a certain George Hamilton Archibald, who was giving lectures throughout England on the teaching of religion to children. When he came to Walthamstow Beatrice was intensely interested and went to the lectures each evening the whole week he was there. It was just what she was wanting and asked leave to adopt the scheme straight away. Leave was given and she adapted her lessons according to his plan. She was so successful as a teacher that the class grew quickly and she soon found herself with a class of fifty children and still gathering impetus. She knew this was too large a number for her to manage and get to know the children personally, so she gathered some young people together and met them in the week to talk over the lesson for the Sunday afternoon. In order to perfect her knowledge of children and how to interest them she would go into our small local park and ask a few children if they would like to hear a story. So, she gained courage and wisdom in dealing with small children and her work was a great success. She felt, also, it was not sufficient for her to know the children, she must know their background and their parents. So, she started visitation of the homes of the children. It was astonishing to me to hear about these people. She was only sixteen but many a woman found a sympathetic hearing of her difficulties and, timidly at first, Beatrice gave her opinion and advice, gradually gaining courage and knowledge in dealing with all sorts and conditions of women. Her religious outlook, too, was very broad: far beyond the age in which she lived. She seemed able to see through every problem of her day quickly and easily. Instinctively she seemed to know the answers to questions which were baffling religious leaders, politicians and social workers at that time. Yet she was quiet, un-assuming and non-aggressive in her manner. She only gave her opinions when asked for but her answers were always direct and forthright. So, she came to know how to deal with all the subjects dealt with by those men at the office, and was able to state her point of view in a way which was always inoffensive to her questioners, and in amazement they often said, "Yes, I suppose you are right." III So, the years went by. One Sunday after her school, she was invited out to tea and a young man was there - a missionary, home on furlough from Madagascar, named James Ryan. The two seemed attracted to one another from the first and friendship ripened into love and they became engaged. She could have married and gone out as a missionary's wife but this did not suit Beatrice at all. She must have training in the mission work so as to be a helper as well as a wife to James. So, she retired from her office work to go into training. Various remarks were passed at the office when she told her news for she had still retained her spirit of fun. The general picture of a missionary at that time was of a very serious person who could not see a joke, let alone make one, and it was unbelievable to these clerks that such a person as Beatrice could go abroad for that purpose. Then, one of them said, "Well after all, that's the kind of person they want for such a job." So, now Beatrice was sent to the training college at Selly Oak, Birmingham known as Kingsmead. At first she felt the restraints of such a place difficult to bear. She then determined to break down the atmosphere of reserve and rigidity which prevailed. One morning before breakfast she took a stroll in the grounds. The gong went for the meal and she waited until a number were assembled then, passing a window and looking astonished as if she had not noticed before that it was breakfast time, promptly jumped in through the open window. The matron put on her severe look and said. in injured tones, just one word, "Beatrice!" But the whole house, realising what had happened, were just convulsed with laughter. From then on there was more fun and laughter in the house - Beatrice had won her point. One of the tutors there told me she had a wonderful Influence and, yet, was so quiet and unassuming. She stayed for two years. In the second year, as the mid-summer vacation approached, it was suggested to her that she should go to France to accustom herself to speaking in French and understanding it when being spoken to. The Mission offered to pay for her stay. She, however, pointed out that this would be wasteful and unnecessary. How much better it would be if she got a place as governess in a French family. She would then get the necessary conversation and all the practice she needed in a much better atmosphere and she would feel more independent. The authorities were rather taken aback, but saw the force of her argument and agreed on the condition that in any difficulty she would apply to them. She was fortunate in getting a place as holiday governess to the small daughter of Madame Pathe of film fame. They spent the whole time at Trouville and Beatrice was in charge of the child all day - dining with the family in the evening and sometimes going out with them afterwards. She described the small girl as being self-willed and sometimes obstreperous but Beatrice felt it very good practice and thoroughly worthwhile. Sometime before this we had received notice of the death of a relative of my father who lived in Paris. My adventurous sister had taken the address with her and called on the widow of the relative and found out a good deal of the family history of which before we had been entirely ignorant. She learned that the Ascoli family were highly respected and intellectual Jews - some had developed on the commercial side but most were students, lecturers in colleges etc. and specialists in many departments of learning. The widow said her husband could speak fluently in seven languages. IV Eventually Beatrice went to Madagascar where she married James Ryan and they worked together for some time in the capital. The personnel at the mission were, she found, rather narrow in their outlook and she found the work rather irksome. Relief came, however, when a suggestion came from the Friend's Mission in London that the young couple should branch out and commence a new mission to a tribe hitherto unreached. This suited them both and they moved to the west side of the island to start work among a tribe called the Sakalava. They were a bigger people than those on the eastern seaboard and quite untutored and the two were allowed a free hand which suited Beatrice of course and, I think, James also. They had to build their own house and at the same time get to understand the people and help them in every way possible. A small dispensary was opened and a school started for any intelligent lads and girls who would like training. Many of the young tribesmen were enlisted to help in the building of the house and so many were influenced in a variety of ways. The plans were made and the house finished when it was time for them both to go on furlough. They had hoped for someone to work with them so that the mission could be carried on while they were away. They were disappointed in this, however, and the authorities in London insisted on their taking holiday for health's sake. War had, by this time, broken out and some boats had been torpedoed but they arrived home safely, after facing a few alarms, in the summer of 1917. We were, of course, glad to see them and to hear of their adventures, especially as a gap had already appeared in the family by the death in France of Herbert who had enlisted in the Canadian army. Beatrice had been worried while abroad as no child was on the way and they were anxious to have a family. So, as soon as possible she saw a doctor in London and a small defect was put right. They took a small house in Selly Oak, Birmingham and while still in England a baby girl was born named Mary Winifred. James had informed us that, whether boy or girl and whatever name was chosen, the child should be called by the name given and no diminutive was to be used. On hearing the name we sent a message back of congratulations on the birth of Molly Ryan - and Molly she was ever after. For a time the baby did not thrive, then the doctor discovered that the milk was not sufficient. She was put on certain baby foods, weight began to increase and good health followed. Furlough was now over and application was made for return to Madagascar. It was now the beginning of October, 1918, and places in ships for civilians were scarce so only males were allowed to travel. So, the young couple had to decide. Should the husband go back alone or wait until there was some shipping for them all? They felt that there would be more chance for the wife and child to get a place if the husband was already in the field so they decided that he should go. They all travelled to Liverpool and goodbyes were said and James embarked while Beatrice and the babe went back to spend the night at the hotel. There was no fear in their hearts and Beatrice slept until the morning. She awoke to the dread news that the boat had been torpedoed in the night and, as far as they could tell, there were no survivors. Poor Beatrice was heartbroken but her spirits revived somewhat with the thought that prisoners may have been taken and that, when the war was over, they would be united once more. Nothing more was ever heard of him and wife and child were bereft. Now what was she to do? In just over a month the war was over. Oh, if he had only waited, but it was useless to think thus, it was important to face facts. She felt her life's work was out there, her home and her possessions were there and she made up her mind to go. The authorities in London were amazed and appalled at the idea and would only agree on condition that a companion could be found to go with her. A young woman agreed to accompany them. The journey was accomplished in small stages. They first crossed France to get a boat from Marseilles as there was usually a regular service to Madagascar. Molly was now eighteen months old - a charming little person who made friends with all on board, often bringing people to her mother and introducing them to her in the recognised fashion. After a long, tedious journey the boat finished up at Durban and they were told the service to Madagascar's west coast had not yet been resumed. Undaunted, and finding it was impossible to get to her destination for a time, she took a job as a teacher in a native school for several months. At last, she heard of a cargo boat about to cross the intervening channel and decided to take her chance. It was a very rough and dirty boat but what could she expect of a cargo vessel. At last, she reached her home. She found many of the people round about remembered her and gave her a welcome. There were many volunteers to help her set her house in order but we shall never forget the description of the first night in her old home, so carefully built by her late husband and the native helpers. In the dispensary rats had gnawed every case and medicines were all mixed together in a deplorable fashion. The kitchen stores were the same. Ants had made their home in the furniture and there was general ruin all round. These things, however, never daunted a brave soul like hers. She dried blankets and saw that one bed at least was ready for the first night. She and Molly snuggled down together and went to sleep. Not for long however. There was a sound of drip, drip, drip, what could it be? Then one big drop fell on her face and she knew it was raining heavily. She just got out of bed and shifted the bedstead to another part of the room, but soon it had spread there also. They arose early and, with her willing band of helpers, the gaps in the roof were made good. Her former helpers just came in to work next morning as if she had been away for a casual week-end. The dispensary and the school started again and in a few weeks everything was as usual except that the male side of the establishment was missing. Her companion had gone to the large port in Madagascar and had to cross difficult country to get to the western side - so the place was in fair order when she arrived. She was a great help to Beatrice with the small girl while she was learning the language and getting used to the work. But she was not very strong and soon saw that it was impossible for her to endure the climate and she was obliged to return to England - so Beatrice was alone once more with just her child for company.
As Molly began to grow she became very observant of native habits and was a great mimic. Beatrice soon began to see it was necessary for her to part with the child if the work had to continue. So, very reluctantly, she sent Molly to South Africa where some friends of hers placed her in the care of a family. No one can enter into the secret place of a mother's heart to find herself bereft of her child. She had been a most engaging companion too and mixed with the native children so naturally that every one had marvelled, yet the mother felt that it was for the good of the child. The great scourge of the European people in that part of the country was Blackwater fever but having lived there for several years she felt she was immune. She had herself nursed many of the Government officials, and others, through this terrible disease, when she herself was stricken there was no one near to minister to her distress. She had a mild attack just before Christmas in 1923 but recovered quickly in a day or two. She then set out for a journey through the villages to find pupils who were willing to come to her school when the disease struck her again this time more violently. She abandoned her journey and made her way toward a place where she knew there was a Norwegian mission. It was a long journey and when she reached it was on the point of collapse. She could neither speak nor understand their language and, without making her wants made known, lapsed into unconsciousness and died on January 24th, 1924. She was buried in the little Norwegian cemetery there, a small headstone marking the spot. So lived, and died, one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. Definitely before her time in thought on religious and social problems. Some of her ideas were the utter uselessness of military force, and the entirely wrong approach made in modern countries to crime and punishment. Beside this she felt that Christian people generally had not come anywhere near the understanding of the meaning of the life and teaching of Jesus and her ideas on education were advanced far beyond her years. Many people have since adopted the same points of view on these questions of recent years but in her days they were looked on, more or less, with derision. Arthur |
