28 Thavies Inn: 1850.
Dear Dr. Dickson,—I believe that my kind preceptor and earliest medical friend will be interested in a little account of my foreign life.
My request for permission to attend St. Bartholomew’s Hospital was cordially granted, and I have received a friendly welcome from professors and students. I have the full rights of a student granted to me. I do not attend many of the lectures, but confine my attention chiefly to the practice of the hospital, and at present, more particularly, to the medical practice. If I remain through the summer, I shall gradually extend my visits to the surgical and other wards, as I am particularly anxious to become widely acquainted with disease. I am obliged to feel very sceptical as to the wisdom of much of the practice which I see pursued every day. I try very hard to believe, I continually call up my own inexperience and the superior ability of the physicians whose actions I am watching; but my doubts will not be subdued, and render me the more desirous of obtaining the bedside knowledge of sickness which will enable me to commit heresy with intelligence in the future, if my convictions impel me to it. I hope you will forgive this confession of want of faith, which I do not venture to make to my present instructors, for the English are in general too conservative to have sympathy with unbelief, however honest.
I do not find so active a spirit of investigation in the English professors as in the French. In Paris this spirit pervaded young and old, and gave a wonderful fascination to the study of medicine, which even I, standing only on the threshold, strongly felt. There are innumerable medical societies there, and some of the members are always on the eve of most important discoveries; a brilliant theory is almost proved, and creates intense interest; some new plan of treatment is always exciting attention in the hospitals, and its discussion is widely spread by the immense crowds of students freely admitted. The noble provision of free lectures, supported by the French Government, increases this tendency; the distinguished men who fill the chairs in these institutions have all the leisure and opportunity necessary for original investigation, and a receptive audience always ready to reflect the enthusiasm of the teacher. I have often listened to some of these eloquent men in the College of France, their natural eloquence increased by the novelty or brilliant suggestions of the subject, till I shared fully in the enthusiasm of the assembly; and then, in the excited feeling of the moment, I would enter with some friend into the beautiful adjacent garden of the Luxembourg, and, sitting down at the foot of some noble statue, we would prolong the interest by discussion; while the brilliant atmosphere, the trees, the wind and the water, the fine old palace and the varied groups of people moving amongst the flowers, contributed to the charm of the moment, producing some of the intensest pleasurable sensations I have ever enjoyed. I cannot wonder that students throng to Paris, instead of to the immense smoke-hidden London; here there is no excitement, all moves steadily onward, constantly but without enthusiasm. No theory sets the world on fire till it is well established, and the German observers are much more studied than the French. Everything is stamped by good sense and clear substantial thought; my respect is fully commanded, but I often long for a visit to the College of France and a stroll in the Luxembourg.
Whilst devoting all my daytime to the rare advantage of practical study so providentially opened to me, the evenings were in another direction equally delightful and beneficial. I was sitting, one dull afternoon, in my bare lodging-house drawing-room, somewhat regretfully thinking of the bright skies of Paris and pleasant study under the trees of the Luxembourg Garden, when the door opened and three young ladies entered, and introduced themselves as Miss Bessie Rayner Parkes and the Misses Leigh Smith.
This proved the commencement of a lifelong friendship. These ladies were filled with a noble enthusiasm for the responsible and practical work of women in the various duties of life. They warmly sympathised in my medical effort, and were connected with that delightful society of which Lady Noel Byron, Mrs. Follen, Mrs. Jameson, the Herschels, and Faraday were distinguished members, and with which the Rev. Mr. Morris and the Hon. Russell Gurney were in full sympathy.
My young friends hung my dull rooms with their charming paintings, made them gay with flowers, and welcomed me to their family circles with the heartiest hospitality.
A bright social sun henceforth cheered the somewhat sombre atmosphere of my hospital life; for when the day’s duties were accomplished there was always some pleasant social gathering, or some concert or lecture attended with friends, to refresh the medical student. I often walked home from my friends in the West between twelve and one at night (being too poor to engage cabs), not exhausted, but invigorated for the next day’s work. Lady Noel Byron became warmly interested in my studies. I went with her to Faraday’s lectures, visited her at Brighton, and she long remained one of my correspondents.
One of my most valued acquaintances was Miss Florence Nightingale, then a young lady at home, but chafing against the restrictions that crippled her active energies. Many an hour we spent by my fireside in Thavies Inn, or walking in the beautiful grounds of Embley, discussing the problem of the present and hopes of the future. To her, chiefly, I owed the awakening to the fact that sanitation is the supreme goal of medicine, its foundation and its crown.
My acquaintance also with Professor Georgii, the Swedish professor of kinesipathy and the favourite disciple of Brandt, whose consultation-rooms in Piccadilly I often visited, strengthened my faith in the employment of hygienic measures in medicine. When, in later years, I entered into practice, extremely sceptical in relation to the value of drugs and ordinary medical methods, my strong faith in hygiene formed the solid ground from which I gradually built up my own methods of treatment. Looking back upon a long medical life, one of my happiest recollections is of the number of mothers whom I influenced in the healthy education of their children.
Letters written home at this date indicate the vivid interests of the time.
November 1850.
Dear E.,—The great topics of the day here are the Great Industrial Exhibition and Popery.
On November 5 the bells were ringing and the boys hurrahing for ‘Gunpowder Plot Day.’ This anniversary was celebrated with more enthusiasm than usual from the Pope’s having appointed a Cardinal Archbishop of England, and ‘No Popery’ placards are posted everywhere.
The great building of iron and glass for the Exhibition is rapidly rising in Hyde Park, and the papers in this rank-loving country duly inform us whenever Prince Albert comes in from Windsor to inspect its progress, and furthermore that the Prince is modelling a group of statuary, and the Queen designing a carpet, to figure in the display. The last time I was at the Twamleys’ we drove round to see the building, which is a curious sight from the delicate appearance of the immense quantity of iron framework; it looks too fragile to support a crowd, and yet it will hold myriads. There is a splendid old elm tree which they have enclosed in the building, and his great black arms look in strange contrast to the surrounding tracery.
December 24, 1850.
Dear M.,—I was just stretching myself after breakfast, and thinking that I must put on my boots and turn out into the horrible fog that was darkening daylight, when your welcome letters came, and it being holiday time I treated myself to an immediate perusal. I must beg you not to imagine me sitting in a large bare room in an inn. The term ‘inn’ is only applied in this case to a particularly quiet and respectable little street. The term ‘Inns of Court’ means a number of buildings round an open court, withdrawn from the street, entered by an arched passage under some house, and used now or at some former time for law purposes. That was the origin of Thavies Inn; it was formerly a portion of an old law court, and is particularly proper, having iron gates at the archway, which are shut at night, and a porter living in the little house at the entrance, who is always on the look-out for beggars or other un-respectable characters; and the way in which a little barrel organ that has managed to slip in is ‘shut up’ at the first bar has always amused me, and provoked me at the same time. The room also, which was bare enough at first, has assumed a much more homelike aspect since two young friends sent me some pictures to hang on the walls, and a portfolio of paintings, with a little stand on which to place a new one every day; and having turned the sideboard into a bookcase, I can assure you it looks quite comfortable when I have drawn the round table to the fire and settled down for the evening.
Your letter alludes to many topics of interest. First of all this ‘Woman’s Rights Convention,’ held at Worcester, Mass. I have read through all the proceedings carefully. They show great energy, much right feeling, but not, to my judgment, a great amount of strong, clear thought. This last, of course, one ought not to expect in the beginning; but in my own mind I have settled it as a society to respect, to feel sympathy for, to help incidentally, but not—for me—to work with body and soul. I cannot sympathise fully with an anti-man movement. I have had too much kindness, aid, and just recognition from men to make such attitude of women otherwise than painful; and I think the true end of freedom may be gained better in another way. I was touched by the kind remembrance of W. H. C., which placed my name on the Industrial Committee; and if I were in America and called on to attend I should certainly send them a note full of respect and sympathy; but I must keep my energy for what seems to me a deeper movement. But I think you did perfectly right to act on the Education Committee, and if I can send you any information I will gladly do so. But I feel a little perplexed by the main object of the Convention—Woman’s Rights. The great object of education has nothing to do with woman’s rights, or man’s rights, but with the development of the human soul and body. But let me know how you mean to treat the subject, and I will render you what aid I can.... My head is full of the idea of organisation, but not organisation of women in opposition to men. I have been lately meditating constantly on this idea, and seeking some principle of organisation which should be a constantly growing one, until it became adequate to meet the wants of the time.... This horrible fact of immorality has weighed upon me fearfully since I came to London, for I believe in no city in the world does it show itself so publicly as it does here. In Paris it is legalised and hidden, and is recognised and profitable as a branch of the Government!
In the United States it is not so old and widespread (written in 1850); but here in London it has been let alone, has taken an unrestrained course, exists to a fearful extent, and shows itself conspicuously in its lowest form. At all hours of the night I see groups of our poor wretched sisters, standing at every corner of the streets, decked out in their best, which best is generally a faded shawl and even tattered dress, seeking their wretched living; and many aching hearts I have seen looking through the thin, hungry features. But I will not pain you farther; you know the general fact, though you have never had it pressed home to you in a thousand ways, as I have. My great dream is of a grand moral reform society, a wide movement of women in this matter; the remedy to be sought in every sphere of life—radical action—not the foolish application of plasters, that has hitherto been the work of the so-called ‘moral reform’ societies; we must leave the present castaway, but redeem the rising generation. In my own mind I have divided my ‘Union’ into many branches, several of which I see Mr. Channing has proposed for this ‘Woman’s Rights Society.’ Education to change both the male and female perverted character; industrial occupation, including formation of a priesthood of women; colonial operations, clubs, homes, social unions, a true Press, and many other things, have been among my visions; and the whole so combined that it could be brought to bear on any outrage or prominent evil. In England I should seek to interest the Queen, and place her, as the highest representative of womanhood, at the head of this grand moral army. Indeed, many of my modifications naturally fit themselves to English society, which is immediately around one. When I return to America, of course the European mould of my thoughts will drop off, and fit itself to the New World; but it never can be an anti-man movement.... One thing now pleases me much; all the women seem to like me, from the aristocratic Miss Montgomery, bosom friend of one of the Queen’s maids of honour, down to the humble sisters of the hospital, all welcome me, and many with enthusiasm. I have passed several delightful evenings with Mrs. Follen, Mrs. Jameson, and the Chapmans; the De Morgans, Morells, and many others are unceasing in their kindness. I find these people varying in religion and everything else, but all alive and open to progressive ideas—if they are not shocked back. There seems to be a very large class of this kind, who are not united in any special effort, but in whom the true ideas are germinating, which will some time—perhaps in their children, for things move slowly in England—reach a perfect development. It is my impression, for I ought only to put it in that modest form, that the corresponding class in America is less humane, more addicted to money-getting and party spirit; and that reform ideas in America are much more talked of, but less acted on....
April 4, 1851.
Dear E.,—I have been very gay lately, with so many social entertainments. One evening at the Hon. Miss Murray’s I saw the Duchess of Buckingham, Duke of Argyll, Marquis of Lansdowne, and many distinguished people, Sir Lyon Playfair, Sir John Herschel, the Speaker of the House of Commons, &c. But my studies go steadily on, and I do enjoy going round with Dr. Baly; he is so gentle and friendly, and so learned in his art, that he teaches me more than anyone else. I wish I could go round with him oftener....
But I must tell you of a delightful three days’ visit that I made to Lady Byron at Brighton a week ago. I had heard her most highly spoken of, and her connection with the poet has thrown a romance around her; so when I received through Miss Montgomery an invitation from her, stating that she had herself paid some attention to medical matters and would be most happy to see me, and that her friend Dr. King would do the honours of the well-arranged hospital at Brighton, I determined to accept, and give myself a three days’ treat. I arrived in Brighton one bright, blowing afternoon. Nearly three miles of good stone houses face the broad sea, the road in front of them forming a delightful elevated promenade open to the spray and the Atlantic winds. In the distance at one extremity was Beachy Head, at the other the projecting point that hid Portsmouth, and far out, dim in the distance, lay the Isle of Wight. Bare, rounded, green hills formed the background to the town. In the bow-windowed parlour of one of these large stone houses I was set down, and soon after, Lady Byron, who had been to the railroad to look for me, entered—a slender, rather small, but venerable-looking lady of sixty, with fair complexion, delicate features, and grey hair. She welcomed me kindly, and conversed for a little while with a gentle, benevolent manner, but a voice that had a very sad tone in it. I found that she was a confirmed invalid, and learned afterwards that she had never recovered from the blow caused by the conduct of her husband, whom she had worshipped with real idolatry. Then we went out to see the sunset and some electrical apparatus, and on our return I was introduced to Mrs. Jameson, the authoress, who was paying a little visit, and to Dr. King, a beautiful old gentleman, more of a philosopher, however, than a physician. The next morning I had a delightful tête-à-tête breakfast with Mrs. Jameson, who is a charming person with a warm Irish heart, an exquisite appreciation of art, and a deep interest in all high reform. Meanwhile it had begun to rain and the wind battered the house furiously, but nevertheless I went in the carriage with Dr. King to visit the hospital and a famous manufactory of mineral waters. I returned in a hurry to go off with Mrs. Jameson and hear Fanny Kemble read ‘Macbeth.’ This was a great treat, for I had never heard Shakespeare well given. I had caught a glimpse of Fanny Kemble the evening before, when Mrs. Jameson had brought her back from reading the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ She entered the parlour for a few minutes, throwing open the door and declaiming a tragic Shakespearian quotation, dressed in rose-coloured satin, with a crimson mantle trimmed with white fur, a large bouquet in her bosom, her jet-black hair braided low down, with large black eyes, and a grand, deep-toned voice. She sat on the sofa beside Lady Byron—a most strange contrast. She was really magnificent in ‘Macbeth,’ dressed in black velvet trimmed with ermine, and Mrs. Jameson, who sat beside me, was in raptures.
The longer I saw Lady Byron the more she interested me; her insight and judgment are admirable, and I never met with a woman whose scientific tendencies seemed so strong. She seemed well versed in medicine and was her own physician, having consulted many physicians who were quite unable to aid her; she has for many years taken particular interest in labour schools, and has some admirably arranged on her estates. I much enjoyed my conversation with her, for she has a rare intelligence and a long experience. On Sunday she took me to hear a most eloquent preacher, a Mr. Robertson, who preached on the wisdom of Solomon and Christ. He is now in the Established Church, but will, I imagine, soon work himself out, for he is continually progressing, and has already drawn upon himself much persecution from his professional brethren. I certainly never heard his equal in torrent-like eloquence; it was quite a flood.
How gloriously the wind howled round the house at night! As I lay in bed and listened to the wind and the heavy swell of the waves, it was delicious. There is a pier built far out into the water as a private promenade. I had a beautiful walk there all alone one evening at sunset as the tide was coming in. On Sunday afternoon I was obliged to leave my new friends. Lady Byron, in a purple velvet mantle lined with white silk, a rich dress, and a purple satin bonnet trimmed with black lace, escorted me to the cars and put me into the second class, which economy obliged me to take. With the most hearty shake of the hand we parted, and we have exchanged several notes since I returned, for, as I said, she interests me, and I want to know more of her.
I have a standing invitation to Mrs. Jameson’s Thursday evening meetings, of which I shall try to avail myself frequently. Life opens to me in London, social life particularly; but I am looking with pleasure to my return. I am too impatient to begin my practical career to be able to stay anywhere much longer where that is not to be commenced....
April 7.—Miss Murray invited me to see the Queen’s favourite little German baron, but I did not accept; for to go such a distance on foot or in omnibus in my silk dress to meet people with whom I should probably have little sympathy, and to whom I should only seem a quiet, ill-dressed person, seemed to me foolish.... Spent the evening at Mrs. Follen’s. Miss Montgomery told me a very strange story of her father’s ‘double’ appearing to her and her brother when they were children playing together during his absence in London. They were amusing themselves by dressing-up in clothes taken from a closet on the staircase, when, hearing their father’s study door open and fearing reproof, they shut themselves in the closet, watching through a crack of the door their father in his dressing-gown with a candle in his hand slowly ascend the staircase. They then remembered that their father had gone to London, and rushed up to their mother’s room, where she was dressing for a party, exclaiming, ‘Papa has come home! We saw him come out of the library with a candle in his hand and go upstairs.’ The authority of this story was unimpeachable, the details minute. What must one think of it?...
April 17.—Went down with my friend Florence to Embley Park. The laurels were in full bloom. Examined the handsome house and beautiful grounds. Saturday a perfect day. Walked much with Florence in the delicious air, amid a luxury of sights and sounds, conversing on the future. As we walked on the lawn in front of the noble drawing-room she said, ‘Do you know what I always think when I look at that row of windows? I think how I should turn it into a hospital ward, and just how I should place the beds!’ She said she should be perfectly happy working with me, she should want no other husband.
April 20.—A beautiful Sabbath morning. Saw the sea and Isle of Wight in the distance; watched the peasants’ picturesque scarlet cloaks going to church. As we crossed the fields, conversing on religious matters, it was a true communion....
May 1.—A most brilliant opening of the Great Exhibition. Thanks to Cousin S., who is an exhibitor, we enjoyed a sight which we shall always remember. The place was so vast that the musical sound of the great organ was lost in the beating of the air. The great building, resplendent with the products of the whole world, was filled to overflowing with enthusiastic spectators. When the Queen, holding Prince Albert’s arm, with the young Prince of Wales on one side and the Princess Royal on the other, followed by the aged Duke of Wellington arm in arm with the Marquis of Anglesea, and a long train of nobility and distinguished men, made the tour of the building and declared it open, it was indeed a memorable sight.
The advisability of remaining in England and establishing myself in practice in London was seriously considered at this time. Under other circumstances I should gladly have made the attempt, for I was strongly attracted to my native land. But I was extremely poor, with no capital to fall back on, and with a great horror of running into debt; neither had I any circle of family friends to aid me, and whilst I saw the importance of a settlement in London, I realised also its difficulties. Meanwhile the years of my study in America had produced their effect there. Popular feeling had sanctioned the effort. In both Philadelphia and Boston attempts were being made to form schools for women. My sister Emily also had adopted the medical life. She had entered the Medical College of Cleveland, Ohio, and was looking forward to joining me ultimately in the medical work; my own family also, to whom I was warmly attached, were fully expecting my return.
I determined, therefore, after much anxious consideration, to make my first settlement in New York, hoping in ten or fifteen years’ time to have attained a position, when I might be able to work in England. The parting from English friends and opportunities was a painful one.
London: May 5.
I gave the day to Florence, who is about leaving, uncertain whether she will see me again. We heard Mr. Ellis lecture at the National Association on Political Economy. We also visited the Verral Hospital, but were not favourably impressed by the judiciousness of the exercises. Dined with her at the Bracebridges’, and parted from her with tears.
May 20.—Visited Guy’s Hospital, Dr. Oldham doing the honours most kindly. The museum is the best for study that I have yet seen. There are about 600 beds in the hospital; twenty are for midwifery, especially under Dr. Oldham’s care, providing about 1,800 cases in the year, and looked after by four young students, who are maintained by the hospital for that purpose. There was a room especially devoted to electrical treatment. The whole establishment bore the marks of wealth.
July 15.—Wished Dr. Oldham good-bye, who expressed great friendliness, wished to see my sister should she visit England, and offers to make an application for admission to Guy’s Hospital....
July 17.—Said good-bye to Mr. Paget, Dr. Burrows, Dr. Hue, &c.—in fact, cut my connection with the hospitals. Did it with much regret; all were extremely kind, expressing the utmost interest and respect for the work. Mrs. Paget introduced me to a lady as ‘a benefactor to the race,’ and hoped to hear of me through Mr. Paget. He spoke of the perfectly satisfactory nature of the experiment, and that it may be done by another lady under similar circumstances, but not as a simple student, he thinks. Dr. Burrows also was extremely friendly, and paid me indirectly the highest compliment, as having ‘established a principle for others, by the success of my laudable enterprise; he thought that quite a new idea had been gained in this matter, which would help anyone else in future.’ I found also, with mingled sadness and triumph, that now I might do anything I pleased at St. Bartholomew’s. They have learned to know and welcome me as I am going away, and are, as Mr. Paget said, sorry to lose me.
Saturday, July 19, 1851.—I have wished all good-bye, and am now ready to go. Much as I regret England, my deepest feelings are with my work, which I always carry with me.... Bessie P. spent part of the day with me. We parted with a few cheerful words, but I saw her face colour with emotion as she looked back and saw me watching her from the door. Beautiful, true heart! it grieves me deeply to part from her....
Monday, 21st.—Left London at seven o’clock. A. turned from me in tears. I felt very sad as I looked at her thin face and thought of all she has suffered, and will suffer.... In the evening I met a cordial welcome at Dudley.... Howy and I made an expedition to Worcester and Malvern; it gave us an opportunity for much intimate conversation. We had lovely weather, and found the country exceedingly beautiful. Rode up the Worcestershire Beacon on donkeys, eating, talking, and laughing at our entanglement with other parties, and enchanted with the prospect; there was a tent on the hill, and parties dancing. We slid all the way down, and walked by Gully’s and Wilson’s water-cure establishments. Visited the noble old Worcester Cathedral, but looked in vain for our crest of arms, said to be there on the windows. Went over Grainger’s china manufactory; the production of cups and saucers on the wheel was like magic....
To Liverpool, but found the ship would not sail until Saturday. The very sight of it made me sick; so Cousin S. accompanied me to Manchester, where we had a very interesting visit. Mr. Wilson, an intelligent business man, escorted us over a large cotton manufactory. It was of exceeding interest. Eight hundred looms were at work in one room; mostly tended by women and many very young girls. We commenced our inspection by descending by ropes deep down into the vaults, where the cotton arrives from America and India; we then proceeded through room after room where all the processes were conducted, from breaking up the bales, tearing to pieces, sorting, carding, forming into sheets, twisting, spinning, weaving, and finally measuring and folding the cloth. We went up and down, by movable trap-doors, underground from street to street, all through the immense establishment. The noise was tremendous, the dust and heat oppressive. I noticed closely the workwomen, who seemed brutified by their toil; their physiognomies were assuming the projecting mouth of the lower animals. Most of them carried their hair-comb stuck in the back of their head; they were mostly youngish women, sallow and perspiring, and I noticed one woman so exhausted that she was obliged continually to sit down; they had often more than one loom to feed. They keep the men and women separate in their work as far as possible....
Saturday, 26th.—Actually my last day on this noble British land! I left pale good Cousin S. standing in the street of Dudley; watched dear H. running up the railway bank as I rushed off in the train; and then I felt that I was indeed severed from England, and only anxious to get through my journey. I found myself at night on board ship, out in the Mersey. Another most important page in life fairly closed!