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.