My long-cherished conviction of the supreme importance of the medical profession as the great conservator of health constantly deepened.
In 1870, being invited to address the Working Women’s College, I took as the subject of my discourse ‘How to Keep a Household in Health.’ This lecture laid down rules of health for the guidance of poor women in the management of their households, and was welcomed by the audience. One person present, however, sent a slanderous account of this lecture to the ‘Pall Mall Gazette,’ and I was overwhelmed by the receipt of anonymous letters, and letters from persons in all classes of society, requesting medical advice on the most important and delicate subjects—subjects which are only suitable for the confidential counsel of the physician’s consulting-room, where alone advice adapted to each individual case can be judiciously given. I mentioned this experience of the newspaper attack and the subsequent correspondence to my friend Mr. Kingsley. He exclaimed: ‘Oh, you did not answer those letters, I trust?’ I assured him that I had always refused to give the advice asked for by letter, and had invariably returned fees when enclosed. ‘Thank God for that!’ he exclaimed with an energy that amazed me; and he then related to me a very painful experience of his own, saying: ‘Let me warn you, never answer a newspaper attack. There are some newspapers that delight in getting hold of a scandal or whatever may make their paper sell, and are utterly unscrupulous as to the means by which such a purpose is accomplished. You have no chance against such corrupt speculation; your only weapon is silence and your own established character.’
On February 19, 1871, under the auspices of the Sunday Lecture Society, I gave an address, ‘On the Religion of Health,’ to a large appreciative audience in St. George’s Hall. The same year a small meeting was held in the drawing-room of 6 Burwood Place, to consider the important subject of a steady and wide diffusion of sanitary knowledge among all the people. There ‘The National Health Society’ was formed, for which Mr. Prout Newcombe (who was present) shaped the stamp of the society, with its motto, ‘Prevention is better than cure.’ This society, which established its first office in Berners Street under the intelligent secretaryship of Miss Toulmin Smith, continues its enlarging sphere of usefulness under the able management of Miss Fay Lankester.
At this time the medical dispensary established by Miss Garrett for women and children in Seymour Place was growing and enlisting a large number of influential friends.
From this small beginning has grown the New Hospital and London School of Medicine for Women, connected with the Royal Free Hospital. This is not the place to speak of the intelligent and persevering efforts to which those institutions owe their origin. The work of Dr. Garrett Anderson and Dr. Sophia Jex Blake will always be remembered. It was my privilege and pleasure in some small degree to encourage these brave workers in their pioneer enterprise in England.
Whilst attending to an increasing medical practice, a visit from Mr. William Pare, who had written an interesting account of the Ralahine land experiment in Ireland, which proved so successful under the management of Mr. E. T. Craig, drew my attention to the important co-operative movement steadily growing in England.[8] The abortive attempts at co-operative society which I had watched in the United States, at Brook Farm, Red Bank, Eagleswood, and other places, in no way shook the faith that through failure and renewed effort the true principles of a wise organisation of human relations would gradually be evolved. The English co-operative movement was characteristic of the common-sense, unambitious way in which reforms grow in England. The religious element introduced by such a noble band of Christian Socialists as Maurice, Kingsley, Hughes, and Ludlow gave a hopefulness to this movement which no attempts based on a limited view of material well-being can afford.
Medical experience was daily showing the influence of the mind over the body, and I eagerly longed to see an embodiment of Christian principles in society, which embodiment was, as yet, far from attainment.
In pursuance of this investigation, at the end of August 1872 I determined to visit the Familistère of Guise, formed by Godin Lemaire. His book, ‘Solutions Sociales,’ describing the growth of the institution, was exceedingly interesting, and contained valuable suggestions for future workers, and I wished to see its practical working for myself. At the end of a fatiguing journey to Guise, on the Belgian frontier of France, for at that time many miles had to be traversed by diligence, I was cordially welcomed by M. Lemaire, and spent several very interesting days in the great Familistère, observing the life there.
The Familistère, which accommodated several hundred people, was erected on a tract of land almost encircled by the river, which tract was laid out in gardens and pleasure grounds. Across the river stood the large factories and workshops for the manufacture of stoves, &c., which furnished the remunerative occupation of the little community.
I attended the prize-giving at the schools, saw the theatre, workmen’s club and choral society, witnessed a ball, and visited the manufactory. The organisation was a great object-lesson both in its success and its defects; full of interest to those who seriously study this important subject of improved social relations. The life at the Familistère, however, was intense, and rather overpowering to me.