CHAPTER IIISTUDY IN AMERICA1847-1849In the summer of 1847, with my carefully hoarded earnings, I resolved to seek an entrance into a medical school. Philadelphia was then considered the chief seat of medical learning in America, so to Philadelphia I went; taking passage in a sailing vessel from Charleston for the sake of economy.In Philadelphia I boarded in the family of Dr. William Elder. He and his admirable wife soon became warm and steadfast friends. Dr. Elder (author of the life of Dr. Kane, the Arctic voyager) was a remarkable man, of brilliant talent and genial nature. He took a generous interest in my plans, helping by his advice and encouragement through the months of effort and refusals which were now encountered.Applications were cautiously but persistently made to the four medical colleges of Philadelphia for admission as a regular student. The interviews with their various professors were by turns hopeful and disappointing. Whilst pursuing these inquiries I commenced my anatomical studies in the privateschool of Dr. Allen. This gentleman by his thoughtful arrangements enabled me to overcome the natural repulsion to these studies generally felt at the outset. With a tact and delicacy for which I have always felt grateful, he gave me as my first lesson in practical anatomy a demonstration of the human wrist. The beauty of the tendons and exquisite arrangements of this part of the body struck my artistic sense, and appealed to the sentiment of reverence with which this anatomical branch of study was ever afterwards invested in my mind.During the following months, whilst making applications to the different medical colleges of Philadelphia for admission as a regular student, I enlisted the services of my friends in the search for an Alma Mater. The interviews with the various professors, though disappointing, were often amusing.Extracts from the Journal of 1847May 27.—Called on Dr. Jackson (one of the oldest professors in Philadelphia), a small, bright-faced, grey-haired man, who looked up from his newspaper and saluted me with, ‘Well, what is it? What do you want?’ I told him I wanted to study medicine. He began to laugh, and asked me why. Then I detailed my plans. He became interested; said he would not give me an answer then; that there were great difficulties, but he did not know that they were insurmountable; he would let me know on Monday. I came home with a lighter heart, though I can hardly say I hope. On Monday Dr. Jackson said he had done his best for me, but the professorswere all opposed to my entrance. Dr. Horner advised me to try the Filbert Street and Franklin schools. A professor of Jefferson College thought it would be impossible to study there, and advised the New England schools.June 2.—Felt gloomy as thunder, trudging round to Dr. Darrach. He is the most non-committal man I ever saw. I harangued him, and he sat full five minutes without a word. I asked at last if he could give me any encouragement. ‘The subject is a novel one, madam, I have nothing to say either for or against it; you have awakened trains of thought upon which my mind is taking action, but I cannot express my opinion to you either one way or another.’ ‘Your opinion, I fear, is unfavourable.’ ‘I did not say so. I beg you, madam, distinctly to understand that I express no opinion one way or another; the way in which my mind acts in this matter I do not feel at liberty to unfold.’ ‘Shall I call on the other professors of your college?’ ‘I cannot take the responsibility of advising you to pursue such a course.’ ‘Can you not grant me admittance to your lectures, as you do not feel unfavourable to my scheme?’ ‘I have said no such thing; whether favourable or unfavourable, I have not expressed any opinion; and I beg leave to state clearly that the operation of my mind in regard to this matter I do not feel at liberty to unfold.’ I got up in despair, leaving his mind to take action on the subject at his leisure.Dr. Warrington told me that he had seen his friend Dr. Ashmead, who had told him that Paris was such a horrible place that I must give up my wish for a medical education—indeed, his communication would be so unfavourable that he would rather not meet me in person. I told the Doctor that if the path of duty led me to hell I would go there; and I did not think that by being withdevils I should become a devil myself—at which the good Doctor stared.Nevertheless, I shrink extremely from the idea of giving up the attempt in America and going to France, although the suggestion is often urged on me.The fear of successful rivalry which at that time often existed in the medical mind was expressed by the dean of one of the smaller schools, who frankly replied to the application, ‘You cannot expect us to furnish you with a stick to break our heads with;’ so revolutionary seemed the attempt of a woman to leave a subordinate position and seek to obtain a complete medical education. A similarly mistaken notion of the rapid practical success which would attend a lady doctor was shown later by one of the professors of my medical college, who was desirous of entering into partnership with me on condition of sharing profits over 5,000 dollars on my first year’s practice.During these fruitless efforts my kindly Quaker adviser, whose private lectures I attended, said to me: ‘Elizabeth, it is of no use trying. Thee cannot gain admission to these schools. Thee must go to Paris and don masculine attire to gain the necessary knowledge.’ Curiously enough, this suggestion of disguise made by good Dr. Warrington was also given me by Doctor Pankhurst, the Professor of Surgery in the largest college in Philadelphia. He thoroughly approved of a woman’s gaining complete medical knowledge; told me that although my public entrance into the classes was out of thequestion, yet if I would assume masculine attire and enter the college he could entirely rely on two or three of his students to whom he should communicate my disguise, who would watch the class and give me timely notice to withdraw should my disguise be suspected.But neither the advice to go to Paris nor the suggestion of disguise tempted me for a moment. It was to my mind a moral crusade on which I had entered, a course of justice and common sense, and it must be pursued in the light of day, and with public sanction, in order to accomplish its end.The following letter to Mrs. Willard of Troy, the well-known educationalist, describes the difficulties through which the young student had to walk warily:—Philadelphia: May 24.I cannot refrain from expressing my obligations to you for directing me to the excellent Dr. Warrington. He has allowed me to visit his patients, attend his lectures, and make use of his library, and has spoken to more than one medical friend concerning my wishes; but with deep regret I am obliged to say that all the information hitherto obtained serves to show me the impossibility of accomplishing my purpose in America. I find myself rigidly excluded from the regular college routine, and there is no thorough course of lectures that can supply its place. The general sentiment of the physicians is strongly opposed to a woman’s intruding herself into the profession; consequently it would be perhaps impossible to obtain private instruction, but if that were possible, the enormous expense would render it impracticable,and where the feelings of the profession are strongly enlisted against such a scheme, the museums, libraries, hospitals, and all similar aids would be closed against me. In view of these and numerous other difficulties Dr. Warrington is discouraged, and joins with his medical brethren in advising me to give up the scheme. But a strong idea, long cherished till it has taken deep root in the soul and become an all-absorbing duty, cannot thus be laid aside. I must accomplish my end. I consider it the noblest and most useful path that I can tread, and if one country rejects me I will go to another.Through Dr. Warrington and other sources I am informed that my plan can be carried out in Paris, though the free Government lectures, delivered by the faculty, are confined to men, and a diploma is strictly denied to a woman, even when (as in one instance, as it is said) she has gone through the course in male attire; yet every year thorough courses of lectures are delivered by able physicians on every branch of medical knowledge, to which I should be admitted without hesitation and treated with becoming respect. The true place for study, then, seems open to me; but here, again, some friendly physicians raise stronger objections than ever. ‘You, a young unmarried lady,’ they say, ‘go to Paris, that city of fearful immorality, where every feeling will be outraged and insult attend you at every step; where vice is the natural atmosphere, and no young man can breathe it without being contaminated! Impossible, you are lost if you go!’Now, dear madam, I appeal to you, who have had the opportunity of studying the French in their native land, is not this a false view, a greatly exaggerated fear? Is it not perfectly true everywhere that a woman who respects herself will be respected by others; that wherethe life is directed by a strong, pure motive to a noble object, in a quiet, dignified, but determined manner, the better feelings of mankind are enlisted, and the woman excites esteem and respectful sympathy? To my mind this is perfectly clear, and I trust that your more experienced judgment will confirm my opinion. Probably, then, if all the information which I am still collecting agree with what I have already received, I may sail for France in the course of the summer, that I may familiarise myself with a rapid French delivery before the commencement of the winter lectures.I have tried to look every difficulty steadily in the face. I find none which seem to me unconquerable, and with the blessing of Providence I trust to accomplish my design.After a short, refreshing trip with my family to the seaside, the search was again renewed in Philadelphia. But applications made for admission to the medical schools both of Philadelphia and of New York were met with similarly unsuccessful results.I therefore obtained a complete list of all the smaller schools of the Northern States, ‘country schools,’ as they were called. I examined their prospectuses, and quite at a venture sent in applications for admission to twelve of the most promising institutions, where full courses of instruction were given under able professors. The result was awaited with much anxiety, as the time for the commencement of the winter sessions was rapidly approaching. No answer came for some time. At last, to my immense relief (though not surprise, for failure never seemed possible), I received the following letter fromthe medical department of a small university town in the western part of the State of New York:—Geneva: October 20, 1847.To Elizabeth Blackwell, Philadelphia.I am instructed by the faculty of the medical department of Geneva University to acknowledge receipt of yours of 3rd inst. A quorum of the faculty assembled last evening for the first time during the session, and it was thought important to submit your proposal to the class (of students), who have had a meeting this day, and acted entirely on their own behalf, without any interference on the part of the faculty. I send you the result of their deliberations, and need only add that there are no fears but that you can, by judicious management, not only ‘disarm criticism,’ but elevate yourself without detracting in the least from the dignity of the profession.Wishing you success in your undertaking, which some may deem bold in the present state of society, I subscribe myself,Yours respectfully,Charles A. Lee,Dean of the Faculty.15 Geneva Hotel.This letter enclosed the following unique and manly letter, which I had afterwards copied on parchment, and esteem one of my most valued possessions:—At a meeting of the entire medical class of Geneva Medical College, held this day, October 20, 1847, the following resolutions were unanimously adopted:—1.Resolved—That one of the radical principles of aRepublican Government is the universal education of both sexes; that to every branch of scientific education the door should be open equally to all; that the application of Elizabeth Blackwell to become a member of our class meets our entire approbation; and in extending our unanimous invitation we pledge ourselves that no conduct of ours shall cause her to regret her attendance at this institution.2.Resolved—That a copy of these proceedings be signed by the chairman and transmitted to Elizabeth Blackwell.T. J. Stratton,Chairman.With an immense sigh of relief and aspiration of profound gratitude to Providence I instantly accepted the invitation, and prepared for the journey to Western New York State.Leaving Philadelphia on November 4, I hastened through New York, travelled all night, and reached the little town of Geneva at 11p.m.on November 6.The next day, after a refreshing sleep, I sallied forth for an interview with the dean of the college, enjoying the view of the beautiful lake on which Geneva is situated, notwithstanding the cold, drizzling, windy day. After an interview with the authorities of the college I was duly inscribed on the list as student No. 130, in the medical department of the Geneva University.I at once established myself in a comfortable boarding-house, in the same street as my college, and three minutes’ walk from it—a beautiful walk along the high bank overlooking the lake. I hung my room with dear mementoes of absent friends,and soon with hope and zeal and thankful feelings of rest I settled down to study.Naturally, some little time was required to adjust the relations of the new student to her unusual surroundings. My first experiences are thus given in a letter to a sister:—Geneva: November 9, 1847.I’ve just finished copying the notes of my last lecture. Business is over for to-day; I throw a fresh stick into my ‘air-tight,’ and now for refreshment by a talk with my own dear sister. Your letter containing E.’s was the first to welcome me in my new residence; right welcome, I assure you, it was, for I was gloomy—very. It was on Monday evening your letter came—my first work-day in Geneva. It had rained incessantly; I was in an upper room of a large boarding-house without a soul to speak to. I had attended five lectures, but nevertheless I did not know whether I could do what I ought to, for the Professor of Anatomy was absent, and had been spoken of as a queer man. The demonstrator hesitated as to my dissecting; I had no books, and didn’t know where to get any; and my head was bewildered with running about the great college building—never going out of the same door I went in at.This evening, however, I have finished my second day’s lectures; the weather is still gloomy, but I feel sunshiny and happy, strongly encouraged, with a grand future before me, and all owing to a fat little fairy in the shape of the Professor of Anatomy! This morning, on repairing to the college, I was introduced to Dr. Webster, the Professor of Anatomy, a little plump man, blunt in manner and very voluble. He shook me warmly by the hand, said my plan was capital; he had some fun too about a lady pupil, for he never lost a joke; the class hadacted manfully; their resolutions were as good as a political meeting, &c.He asked me what branches I had studied. I told him all but surgery. ‘Well,’ said Dr. Lee, ‘do you mean to practise surgery?’ ‘Why, of course she does,’ broke in Dr. Webster. ‘Think of the cases of femoral hernia; only think what a well-educated woman would do in a city like New York. Why, my dear sir, she’d have her hands full in no time; her success would be immense. Yes, yes, you’ll go through the course, and get your diploma with greatéclattoo; we’ll give you the opportunities. You’ll make a stir, I can tell you.’I handed him a note of introduction from Dr. Warrington, and then he told me to wait in the ante-room while he read it to the medical class, who were assembled in the amphitheatre for his lecture, which was to be preparatory to one of the most delicate operations in surgery, and I suppose he wanted to remind them of their promise of good behaviour. I could hear him reading it. When his age and experience were spoken of there was a shout of laughter, for he can’t be more than forty-five and not much of dignity about him; but at the conclusion there was a round of applause, after which I quietly entered, and certainly have no reason to complain of medical students, for though they eye me curiously, it is also in a very friendly manner. After the lecture was over, the demonstrator, who now shows the utmost friendliness, explained to me at the Doctor’s request a very important subject which I had lost. It was admirably done, illustrated on the subject, and if to-day’s lessons were a fair specimen, I certainly shall have no cause to complain of my anatomical instructors. The plan pursued here is admirable, and New York and Philadelphia may learn more than one lesson from Geneva. Dr. Webster came to me laughing after the first lecture, saying: ‘You attracttoo much attention, Miss Blackwell; there was a very large number of strangers present this afternoon—I shall guard against this in future.’ ‘Yes,’ said Dr. Lee; ‘we were saying to-day that this step might prove quite a good advertisement for the college; if there were no other advantage to be gained, it will attract so much notice. I shall bring the matter into the medical journals; why, I’ll venture to say in ten years’ time one-third the classes in our colleges will consist of women. After the precedent you will have established, people’s eyes will be opened.’Now, all this kind feeling encourages me greatly, and I need it; for though my purpose has never wavered, a flat, heavy feeling was growing upon me from constant disappointment. I was fast losing that spring of hope that is so pleasant; consequently praise cannot make me vain, and the notice I attract is a matter of perfect indifference. I sit quietly in this large assemblage of young men, and they might be women or mummies for aught I care. I sometimes think I’m too much disciplined, but it is certainly necessary for the position I occupy. I believe the professors don’t exactly know in what species of the human family to place me, and the students are a little bewildered. The other people at first regarded me with suspicion, but I am so quiet and gentle that suspicion turns to astonishment, and even the little boys in the street stand still and stare as I pass. ’Tis droll; sometimes I laugh, sometimes I feel a little sad, but in Geneva the nine days’ wonder soon will cease, and I cannot but congratulate myself on having found at last the right place for my beginning.I had not the slightest idea of the commotion created by my appearance as a medical student in the little town. Very slowly I perceived that adoctor’s wife at the table avoided any communication with me, and that as I walked backwards and forwards to college the ladies stopped to stare at me, as at a curious animal. I afterwards found that I had so shocked Geneva propriety that the theory was fully established either that I was a bad woman, whose designs would gradually become evident, or that, being insane, an outbreak of insanity would soon be apparent. Feeling the unfriendliness of the people, though quite unaware of all this gossip, I never walked abroad, but hastening daily to my college as to a sure refuge, I knew when I shut the great doors behind me that I shut out all unkindly criticism, and I soon felt perfectly at home amongst my fellow-students.The following extracts from my journal of those days show how any early difficulties were successfully overcome:—November 9.—My first happy day; I feel really encouraged. The little fat Professor of Anatomy is a capital fellow; certainly I shall love fat men more than lean ones henceforth. He gave just the go-ahead directing impulse needful; he will afford me every advantage, and says I shall graduate withéclat. Then, too, I am glad that they like the notoriety of the thing, and think it a good ‘spec.’November 10.—Attended the demonstrator’s evening lecture—very clear—how superior to books! Oh, this is the way to learn! The class behaves very well; and people seem all to grow kind.November 11.—Anatomy very interesting to-day; two admirable demonstrations. Dr. Webster, full ofenthusiasm, told us of Godman, who was converted to phrenology by reading a work against it, in order to cut it up.November 15.—To-day, a second operation at which I was not allowed to be present. This annoys me. I was quite saddened and discouraged by Dr. Webster requesting me to be absent from some of his demonstrations. I don’t believe it is his wish. I wrote to him hoping to change things.November 17.—Dr. Webster seemed much pleased with my note, and quite cheered me by his wish to read it to the class to-morrow, saying if they were all actuated by such sentiments the medical class at Geneva would be a very noble one. He could hardly guess how much I needed a little praise. I have no fear of the kind students.November 20.—In the amphitheatre yesterday a little folded paper dropped on my arms as I was making notes; it looked very much as if there were writing in it, but I shook it off and went on quietly with my notes. Some after-demonstration of a similar kind produced a hiss from the opposite side of the room. I felt also a very light touch on my head, but I guess my quiet manner will soon stop any nonsense.November 22.—A trying day, and I feel almost worn out, though it was encouraging too, and in some measure a triumph; but ’tis a terrible ordeal! That dissection was just as much as I could bear. Some of the students blushed, some were hysterical, not one could keep in a smile, and some who I am sure would not hurt my feelings for the world if it depended on them, held down their faces and shook. My delicacy was certainly shocked, and yet the exhibition was in some sense ludicrous. I had to pinch my hand till the blood nearly came, and call on Christ to help me from smiling, for that would haveruined everything; but I sat in grave indifference, though the effort made my heart palpitate most painfully. Dr. Webster, who had perhaps the most trying position, behaved admirably.November 24.—To-day the Doctor read my note to the class. In this note I told him that I was there as a student with an earnest purpose, and as a student simply I should be regarded; that the study of anatomy was a most serious one, exciting profound reverence, and the suggestion to absent myself from any lectures seemed to me a grave mistake. I did not wish to do so, but would yield to any wish of the class without hesitation, if itwastheir desire. I stayed in the ante-room whilst the note was being read. I listened joyfully to the very hearty approbation with which it was received by the class, and then entered the amphitheatre and quietly resumed my place. The Doctor told me he felt quite relieved.No further difficulty ever afterwards occurred.December 4.—Dr. Webster sent for me to examine a case of a poor woman at his rooms. ’Twas a horrible exposure; indecent for any poor woman to be subjected to such a torture; she seemed to feel it, poor and ignorant as she was. I felt more than ever the necessity of my mission. But I went home out of spirits, I hardly know why. I felt alone. I must work by myself all life long.Christmas Day.—Bright and gay with sleighs. The lake looks most beautiful, the mist rising from it in arches, the sky a brilliant blue, and the ground covered with snow. I received my Christmas Annual with great joy; and having purchased 25 cents’ worth of almonds and raisins, I had quite a cosy time reading it.Sunday, January 16.—A most beautiful day; it did me good. The text impressed itself on me—‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.’ Ifelt happy and blessed. Ah! if the Almighty would always shine on me, how strong I should be! ‘The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.’The behaviour of the medical class during the two years that I was with them was admirable. It was that of true Christian gentlemen. I learned later that some of them had been inclined to think my application for admission a hoax, perpetrated at their expense by a rival college. But when thebona-fidestudent actually appeared they gave her a manly welcome, and fulfilled to the letter the promise contained in their invitation.My place in the various lecture-rooms was always kept for me, and I was never in any way molested. Walking down the crowded amphitheatre after the class was seated, no notice was taken of me. Whilst the class waited in one of the large lecture-rooms for the Professor of Practice, groups of the wilder students gathered at the windows, which overlooked the grounds of a large normal school for young ladies. The pupils of this institution knew the hour of this lecture, and gathered at their windows for a little fun. Here, peeping from behind the blinds, they responded to the jests and hurrahs of the students. ‘See the one in pink!’ ‘No, look at the one with a blue tie; she has a note,’ &c.—fun suddenly hushed by the entrance of the Professor. Meanwhile I had quietly looked over my notes in the seat always reserved for me,entirely undisturbed by the frolic going on at the windows.My studies in anatomy were most thoughtfully arranged by Dr. Le Ford, who selected four of the steadier students to work with me in the private room of the surgical professor, adjoining the amphitheatre. There we worked evening after evening in the most friendly way, and I gained curious glimpses into the escapades of student life. Being several years older than my companions, they treated me like an elder sister, and talked freely together, feeling my friendly sympathy.Under the intelligent instruction of the demonstrator anatomy became a most fascinating study. The wonderful arrangements of the human body excited an interest and admiration which simply obliterated the more superficial feelings of repugnance; and I passed hour after hour at night alone in the college, tracing out the ramification of parts, until, suddenly struck by the intense stillness around, I found that it was nearly midnight, and the rest of the little town asleep.I was equally amazed and shocked some years later, after dining with Mr. Walsh, the American Consul in Paris, to learn that he had remarked that he could not look at my long slender fingers without thinking of the anatomical work in which they had been engaged.As the term drew to its end there was regret at parting from friends I had made, and also anxiety from the uncertainties that still attended my futurecourse. These feelings are expressed in my journal:—January 21.—I felt sad when the lectures actually closed. I received a curious friendly letter from one of the students, requesting the honour of an occasional correspondence. It cheered me, funny as it was. Another student told me he had a daguerreotype-room, and asked me to sit for my likeness to-morrow; but I told him it had annoyed me so much to see my name in the papers that I certainly could not give my face too.[3]He said he had thought of graduating in August, but now he was glad he had not, as I intended returning to Geneva—too funny!January 24.—Went to Dr. Hadley for my certificate; and attended the examinations. I suppose they were as thorough as most; but they were certainly not much of a test. Most of the students answered very well, but some very badly.Miss Waller gave me an oyster supper and we had a very pleasant time. Mrs. Wilson convulsed us by an account of how she was actually struck down by the sudden braying of a jackass, which she heard for the first time during a visit to the North, she never having heard the bray before.January 25.—Attended Commencement (or ceremony of graduation), which after all was not so very formidable. When I went to wish Dr. Hadley good-bye I found the whole faculty assembled, and very merry at breaking up. They talked over my affairs, but gave me no important advice. To my great disappointment no letters of introduction were prepared for me, but only a promise given that they should be sent on at once. I was very sad at parting from the Wallers; but had a pleasant chat with the students whom I found in the railroad cars.Passing through New York, where I dined with my kind preceptor, Dr. S. H. Dickson, and his wife, then living in the town, I returned to Philadelphia to try and arrange for summer study. Whilst seeking medical opportunities I again stayed in Dr. Elder’s family, and endeavoured to increase my slender finances by disposing of some stories I had written, and by obtaining music pupils.Knowing very little of practical medicine, I finally decided to spend the summer, if possible, studying in the hospital wards of the great Blockley Almshouse of Philadelphia. This enormous institution promised a fine field of observation. I obtained a letter of introduction to Mr. Gilpin, one of the directors of the almshouse.He received me most kindly, but informed me that the institution was so dominated by party feeling that if he, as a Whig, should bring forward my application for admission, it would be inevitably opposed by the other two parties—viz. the Democrats and the Native Americans. He said that my only chance of admission lay in securing the supportof each of those parties, without referring in any way to the other rival parties. I accordingly undertook my sole act of ‘lobbying.’ I interviewed each political leader with favourable results, and then sent in my petition to the first Board meeting—when, lo! a unique scene took place; all were prepared to fight in my behalf, but there was no one to fight! I was unanimously admitted to reside in the hospital. This unanimity, I was afterwards assured, was quite without precedent in the records of the institution.On entering the Blockley Almshouse, a large room on the third floor had been appropriated to my use. It was in the women’s syphilitic department, the most unruly part of the institution. It was thought that my residence there might act as a check on the very disorderly inmates. My presence was a mystery to these poor creatures. I used to hear stealthy steps approach and pause at my door, evidently curious to know what I was about. So I placed my table with the books and papers on which I was engaged directly in a line with the keyhole; and there I worked in view of any who chose to investigate the proceedings of the mysterious stranger. The following home letter gives a glimpse of the Blockley life:—August.Dear Mother,—Do not fear for me. I go on smoothly and healthily at Blockley; there is really nothing pestilential amongst the diseases, and I live simply, do my duty, trust in God, and mock at the devil! The matron is the only lady in the establishment (present company excepted), and I frequently step in to see her.She wears a nice white cap, has smooth grey hair, and soft dove’s eyes like yours, and I sometimes look at her and think of you till her loud voice breaks forth in fierce scolding, and then I think of Mrs. Beelzebub. She sits in an immense room, in the centre of the almshouse proper, and ensconced in her armchair, with feet propped on a velvet footstool, she dispenses orders from morning to night, gives out clothing, raves at the paupers, and dooms the refractory ones to a shower-bath. She is a Quaker—very pious, I believe—attends yearly meeting regularly, and has an Episcopal minister for her only son; she is one of the ‘strong-minded women,’ and manages matters to the entire satisfaction of the committee. I like to talk with her occasionally, for she is shrewd and has seen much of life through dark spectacles.What a contrast she is to our head physician! When I first saw Dr. Benedict I thought him the very loveliest man the Almighty ever created, and I still preserve my opinion; the tears come into his eyes as he bends down to soothe some dying woman, and his voice is as gentle, his touch as kind to each patient as if she were his sister. Then he is as truthful, energetic, and spirited as he is kind, so, of course, we are very good friends, though we don’t see much of each other.I often send a thought to Cincinnati as I roam through the wards and imagine our contrasted employments; all letters unite in calling you the best, the most cheerful, most indefatigable mother that ever did exist. ‘All her daughters praise her, and her sons call her blessed.’ How I wish you could pay me another visit this summer! Well, dear mother, Heaven bless you—write to me sometime.Your loving physician, E.At that time, and for many years after, the subjectwhich those wards where I lived represented was an unknown problem to me. I was strangely ignorant of the extent and meaning of that phase of our human society which represents the selfish relations of men and women. This semi-blindness, however, proved a real safeguard to me through the many unusual experiences of my subsequent life. It was not until 1869, when attending the Social Science Congress in Bristol, that my mind at last fully comprehended the hideousness of modern fornication.But my residence at Blockley prepared my mind to some extent for later revelations, as is shown by entries in my journal:—June 22.—I had a long talk with Nurse Welch, on the patients in her departments, which impressed me deeply. Most of the women are unmarried, a large proportion having lived at service and been seduced by their masters, though, on the whole, about as many seducers are unmarried as married; I found no instance of a married woman living with her husband entering.This morning one young woman tried to escape from Blockley by tying sheets together and fastening them outside the window bars, but they giving way, she fell down from the third storey, and was picked up suffering from concussion of the brain and other injuries. All this is horrible! Women must really open their eyes to it. I am convinced thattheymust regulate this matter. But how?August 17.—Drank tea with the matron, and had a very pleasant time. She excites me, and I influence her. She actually apologised to me for her rough and tyrannical treatment of one of the women.August 19.—A beautiful thought came to me thislovely morning. Emerson says, ‘Our faith comes to us in moments, our vice is habitual.’ I never till now could explain this to my satisfaction. It is that the atmosphere of our society, of our daily surroundings, is false; it attracts the demons, they encompass us continually, for we live in their home. The angels have to strive to come to us. But when by a holy inspiration, or an effort of man’s nobler nature, he rises to a purer sphere, then the angels throng lovingly round him: he breathes the Divine life. But the moment this effort is relaxed, he, not living in a heavenly atmosphere, naturally and inevitably sinks again into hell, because his present home is there—for he cannot separate himself from the race. Not till theraceis redeemed will our habitual state be heavenly, and the true spontaneous Divine life be possible. This is the philosophy of effort. The solidarity of our race asserts the impossibility of present permanent Divine life. Bless God for our deep momentary experiences—our prophetic assurances! This sweet morning refreshes me inexpressibly. The wind that lifts my hair seems filled with angel hands that soothe the soul to peace; that little warbling bird fills me with holy joy; a glory seems to rest everywhere, a tide from the Divine Nature.During my residence at Blockley, the medical head of the hospital, Dr. Benedict, was most kind, and gave me every facility in his power. I had free entry to all the women’s wards, and was soon on good terms with the nurses. But the young resident physicians, unlike their chief, were not friendly. When I walked into the wards they walked out. They ceased to write the diagnosis and treatment of patients on the card at the head of each bed, whichhad hitherto been the custom, thus throwing me entirely on my own resources for clinical study.During the summer of 1848 the famine fever was raging in Ireland. Multitudes of emigrants were attacked with fever whilst crossing the ocean, and so many were brought to Blockley that it was difficult to provide accommodation for them, many being laid on beds on the floor. But this terrible epidemic furnished an impressive object-lesson, and I chose this form of typhus as the subject of my graduation thesis, studying in the midst of the poor dying sufferers who crowded the hospital wards. I read my thesis to Dr. Elder, and was greatly encouraged by his hearty approbation.Trying as my painful residence at Blockley had been both to body and mind, I was conscious of the great gain in medical knowledge and worldly experience which it had afforded. The following journal entry expresses the mixed feelings with which that strange residence was left:—September 22.—My last evening at Blockley. Here I sit writing by my first fire. How glad I am, to-morrow, to-morrow, I go home to my friends! And yet as I watched the beautiful sunset from my great windows, as little Mary Ann pays her willing attendance, and all seems so friendly; as I walked to Dr. Benedict’s with my thesis, and felt the entrancing day and the lovely country, Ialmostregretted that I was going to leave. Heaven guide me! May good spirits ever surround me!At the end of the summer I gladly returned to the healthy and hopeful college life at Geneva.Passing through New York, where I saw Dr. Dickson and his family and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach, I reached my winter’s home on October 3, reported myself at college, met everywhere a kind welcome, and settled down for winter work. The clever demonstrator again afforded me his valuable aid in anatomy, and the friendliness of the class continued. Sometimes, whilst sitting by the Doctor during some delicate demonstration of the brain, the students who were crowding round, standing on chairs, leaning on one another’s shoulders, kept most respectfully from me, drawing back instantly when by accident they touched my head or shoulder.[4]October 26.—The class held a meeting to-day to request a holiday on election day; and a political division was called for by the assembled students. I went over to the ‘Free Soil’ side, and was received with repeated cheering. I asked Dr. Le Ford, reproachfully, if he was going to vote for the slave-holder, Taylor; whereupon he gave me his reasons for political action, and grew quite eloquent in his self-defence.November 12.—Howy made his appearance to-day, just as I settled down to perpetrate an essay for the family Christmas Annual. How good it is to see a brother! He looked very well, and we had a merry time together. I stayed away from afternoon lectures to be with him. He is a capital companion and greatly improved. I did more laughing than I’ve done for months. His visit did me real good, for I have been so lonely. Heaven bless the dear boy in his future!Sunday, 19th.—Alone all day in my room, yet anything but lonely. Bright visions of usefulness have beenfloating round me. I consecrated myself anew to the accomplishment of a great idea. I tried to lecture for an hour to an imaginary audience; striving to prepare for work by seeking expression for my thoughts.I would I were not so exclusively a doer; speech seems essential to the reformer, but mine is at present a very stammering, childish utterance.26th.—Went to church. Mr. Hogarth said some true things. He drew our thoughts to the reformers of old, with their sublime trust in the Most High. With a strange feeling of pleasure I claimed kindred with Asa, King of Judah, who broke the idols of the people and overcame the hosts of the Ethiopians.November 30.—Our evening lecture broke up in a political Hurrah! for a Whig orator and John Van Buren were both speaking in the town, and the students rushed to attend the political meetings. I again discussed the subject with Dr. Le Ford; he justifying himself enthusiastically for being a Whig. He talked well, but I grew tired of those old expediences.By this time the genuine character of my medical studies was fully established.Had I been at leisure to seek social acquaintance, I might have been cordially welcomed. But my time was anxiously and engrossingly occupied with studies and the approaching examinations. I lived in my room and my college, and the outside world made little impression on me.Extracts from the Journal.December 22.—The deepest snow I have seen for years. It was as much as I could do to walk to college; but all was pleasant, the class seem so very friendly. One setme a chair, another spoke so pleasantly, and I had several little friendly chats. How little they know my sensitiveness to these trifling tokens! The unusual weather, an alarm of fire, Dr. Webster’s arrival, were so many points for sociability.December 31.—The New Year’s Eve. Alone, as usual, I spent the day; at night, as I watched the last moments of the year slowly depart, a deep solemnity came over me—a hopeless sorrow for poor humanity. I seemed to hear the heavy resounding bell of time, tolling mournfully the dying year, whilst angels with covered faces, and forms that bent with sorrow, waited to receive the finishing scroll of the world’s existence, that the fearful record guarded in darkness and silence might at last be unrolled in the terrible light of eternity!January 1.—Stayed quietly in my room, whilst the merry sleigh-bells and gay voices rang without.11th.—I called to see the pretty blind girl operated on this morning; she was all alone in the hotel, her friends far away. Poor child! she has no protector, within or without; she asked me who the student was that brought her home, when college would be out, &c.; her simple heart and idle fancy are soon caught. Such are the women I long to surround with my stronger arm. Alas! how almost hopeless does the task seem! But God is omnipotent.January 19.—Dear M.,—I sit down to try and quiet myself by writing to you for this morning. I, as first on the list of candidates, passed through the usual examinations, presented my certificates, received the testimony of satisfaction from the faculty, whose recommendation will procure me the diploma next Tuesday. Now, though the examinations were not very formidable, still the anxiety and effort were as great as if everything were at stake, and when I came from the room andjoined the other candidates who were anxiously awaiting their turn, my face burned, my whole being was excited, but a great load was lifted from my mind. The students received me with applause—they all seem to like me, and I believe I shall receive my degree with their united approval; a generous and chivalric feeling having conquered any little feelings of jealousy. I often feel when I am with them how beautiful the relations of man and woman might be under a truer development of character, in nobler circumstances. I do not know the moral character of any one of our students, for I have no genius for hunting up the darker parts of a person’s soul; but I know that Geneva is a very immoral place, the lower classes of women being often worthless, the higher ones fastidious and exclusive, so that there is no healthy blending of the sexes. But notwithstanding the bad associations in which they may have been brought up, I have never had any difficulty in giving the right tone to our intercourse. I am more convinced than ever that Fourier is right in placing this matter in the hands of women, and my hope rises when I find that the inner heart of the human being may still remain pure, notwithstanding some corruption of the outer coverings. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how deep this matter of licentiousness has gradually sunk into my soul, and that the determination to wage a war of extermination with it strengthens continually, and the hope of gaining power and experience to do it worthily is one of my strongest supports in action. So help me God, I will not be blind, indifferent, or stupid in relation to this matter, as are most women. I feel specially called to act in this reform when I have gained wisdom for the task; the world can never be redeemed till this central relation of life is placed on a truer footing.But I meant to talk to you about the cholera. Ourphysicians confessedly cannot cure it. The Professor who lectured upon it yesterday commenced: ‘Gentlemen, I wish I could tell you how to cure the cholera, but under all modes of treatment the mortality seems to be the same; however, I will tell you something of the disease, and what I would do if called to a case.’The cordial relations with Professor and students continued. Throughout the examination time the most friendly interest was felt in my success by my fellow-students. One of my brothers came on to Geneva to attend my graduation. Being personally a stranger to the students, he was much amused by the free indications of friendly comradeship which he overheard. The ceremony of conferring the full and equal diploma of Doctor of Medicine upon a woman excited much interest in the neighbourhood. It was held in the large Presbyterian Church, which, with its ample galleries, was crowded in every part with spectators. The other students walked in procession from the college to the church, but I went up with my brother and took my seat in the side aisle.Extracts from the Journal of 1849.January 22.—Our examinations came off successfully. Hurrah,’tis almost over!Tuesday, January 23, 1849.—The day, the grand day, is nearly finished; and now whilst visitors are dropping in I must record my first entrance into public life—’twas bright and beautiful and very gratifying. Great curiosity was felt. As I entered and sat in the church Igave one thought to friends, and then thought only of the Holy One. After the degree had been conferred on the others, I was called up alone to the platform. The President, in full academical costume, rose as I came on the stage, and, going through the usual formula of a short Latin address, presented me my diploma. I said: ‘Sir, I thank you; it shall be the effort of my life, with the help of the Most High, to shed honour on my diploma.’ The audience applauded, but their presence was little to me. I was filled with a sense of the grandeur of a holy life, with high resolves for the future. As I came down, George Field opened the door of the front row, and I was much touched by the graduates making room for me, and insisting that I should sit with them for the remainder of the exercises. Most gladly I obeyed the friendly invitation, feeling more thoroughly at home in the midst of these true-hearted young men than anywhere else in the town. I heard little of what was said; my whole soul was absorbed in heavenly communion. I felt the angels around me. Dr. Lee gave the valedictory address; he surprised me by the strong and beautiful way in which he alluded to the event. I felt encouraged, strengthened to be greatly good. As I stood at the door the faculty all most kindly wished me good-bye, and Dr. Hale and Bishop De Lancy shook hands and congratulated me. All the ladies collected in the entry, and let me pass between their ranks; and several spoke to me most kindly.For the next few hours, before I left by train, my room was thronged by visitors. I was glad of the sudden conversion thus shown, but my past experience had given me a useful and permanent lesson at the outset of life as to the very shallow nature of popularity.The following letter, written by a younger brother who came to be with me on this importantoccasion, gives some interesting as well as amusing details of the event:—Geneva: January 23, 1849.Beloved Relations.—The important crisis is past, the great occasion over, the object of so much and so justifiable anticipation has been attained, and proud as I always feel of the Blackwells, my familism never seemed to me so reasonable and so perfectly a matter of course as it did this morning, when, having escorted E. into the crowded church and taken my seat beside her, we learned from the music that the graduating class, headed by the dean, trustees, faculty, &c., were marching in solemn conclave into the aisle. I found E. well and in good spirits, as you may suppose. Monday morning E. and I went to the college, where she underwent a second examination, as did also the other members of the graduating class, from the curators of the university, no others but themselves, the class, and the faculty being admitted. From this, as from the former one, our Sis came off with flying colours and the reputation of being altogether the leader of the class. In the afternoon they were successively called upon to read from their theses, and to this I was admitted; but Elizabeth’s being in Buffalo to be printed, she could not be called upon. The Professor and students all seem to feel most kindly and warmly friendly. While I sat by the stove on Monday morning at the college whilst the graduating class were undergoing their examination below, the other students, scarcely any of them being acquainted with my personality, conversed freely about matters and things, and of course about Elizabeth. ‘Well, boys,’ one would say, ‘our Elib. feels first-rate this morning. Do you notice how pleased she looks?’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ replied another, ‘and I think she well may after the examination she passed yesterday.’ ‘So Lizzie will get her diplomaafter all,’ said a third. ‘If any member of the class gets one,sheis sure of it,’ said a fourth. Then all agreed that ‘our Elib.’ was ‘a great girl,’ and in short I found that she was a universal favourite with both professors and students. Nothing could be more cordial than the former are, and several are very gentlemanly and intelligent men indeed, and I formed some pleasant acquaintances among them.On the morning of the Commencement little Dr. Webster wasin his glory; he is a warm supporter of Elizabeth and likes a fuss, and nothing could exceed his delight when he found that the whole country round was sending in large numbers of people, and that all the ladies of Geneva were turning outen masseto see a lady receive a medical diploma. At ten o’clocka.m.the students met at the college and marched in procession with music to the Literary College, where they were headed by the Bishop of New York, Dr. Hale, the dean, and the curators, the faculty, &c. Dr. Webster was very anxious that E. should march in procession, and sent down two messages to that effect; but E. very properly refused. About half-past ten o’clock Elizabeth and I walked up to the church—she was very nicely dressed in her black brocaded silk gown,invisibly greengloves, black silk stockings, &c. As we ascended the college steps, Dr. Webster met Eliz. and again urged the request, whereupon she told him peremptorily that ‘it wouldn’t be ladylike.’ ‘Wouldn’t it indeed? Why, no, I forgot—I suppose it wouldn’t,’ said the little Doctor, evidently struck for the first time with the idea. So it was arranged that Eliz. and I should sit down at the entrance of the left aisle and join the procession as it came up, and we then walked in and sat down. We found the church, galleries and all,crowded with ladies, they only having been as yet admitted; and of course when we came in therewas a general stir and murmur, and everybody turned to look at us. By the time the procession came up, all the pews, except those reserved for students, were filled, and the gentlemen had to pour in afterwards and take the aisles, &c. When the procession entered, Mr. Field, a very pleasant, gentlemanly fellow-graduate, offered his arm, and all the class took their seats together in front of the stage. After a short discourse by Dr. Hale, the President, the diplomas were conferred—four being called up at a time—and, ascending the steps to the platform, the President, addressed them in a Latin formula, taking off his hat, but remaining seated, and so handed them their diplomas, which they received with a bow and retired. Elizabeth was left to the last and called up alone. The President taking off his hat, rose, and addressing her in the same formula, substitutingDominaforDomine, presented her the diploma, whereupon our Sis, who had walked up and stood before him with much dignity, bowed and half turned to retire, but suddenly turning back replied: ‘Sir, I thank you; by the help of the Most High it shall be the effort of my life to shed honour upon your diploma;’ whereupon she bowed and the President bowed, the audience gave manifestations of applause, little Dr. Webster rubbed his hands, the learned curators and faculty nodded grave approbation at each other upon the platform, and our Sis, descending the steps, took her seat with her fellow-physicians in front. Now walks up into the pulpit Professor Lee, with a large manuscript and a solemn air, and commences his address to the graduates. It was on the whole good; he gave it pretty strong to Homœopathists, Hydropathists, Mesmerists, Thompsonians, &c., and gave the ladies of the audience quite a lecture for their encouragement and circulation of quack medicines, informing them that they had better studya little the principles of medicine before attempting to practise what they were so profoundly ignorant about. At the close he alluded to the novel proceeding which they had taken, and the censure or imitation which it would necessarily create. He justified the proceeding, and passed a most gratifying and enthusiastic encomium on the result of the experiment in the case of Eliz. He pronounced her theleaderof her class; stated that she had passed through a thorough coursein every department, slighting none; that she had profited to the very utmost by all the advantages of the institution, and by her ladylike and dignified deportment had proved that the strongest intellect and nerve and the most untiring perseverance were compatible with the softest attributes of feminine delicacy and grace, &c., to all which the students manifest by decided attempts at applause their entire concurrence. As the audience passed out the Bishop came up with Dr. Hale, requested an introduction, and spoke very pleasantly, congratulating her on her course, to the great astonishment of the conservatives. As we walked out of the church we found that almost all the ladies had stopped outside, and as we appeared, opened their ranks and let us pass, regarding E. with very friendly countenances. Most of E.’s time was taken up till our departure next day at half-past one o’clock in receiving calls from her few friends.The admission of a woman for the first time to a complete medical education and full equality in the privileges and the responsibilities of the profession produced a widespread effect in America. The public press very generally recorded the event, and expressed a favourable opinion of it.Even in Europe some notice of it was taken, and ‘Punch’ showed his cordial appreciation by his amusing but friendly verses.[5]I knew, however, that a first step only had been taken. Although popular sanction had been gained for the innovation, and a full recognised status secured, yet much more medical experience than I possessed was needed before the serious responsibilities of practice could be justly met. Returning, therefore, to Philadelphia, I endeavoured still to continue my studies. I was politely received by the heads of the profession in Philadelphia as a professional sister, and made the following notes in a journal of that date:—March 6.—A morning of great gratification; welcomed cordially to the university, and afterwards heard Doctors Jackson, Hodges, Gibson, Chapman, and Horner lecture. Drs. Lee and Ford were with me, the former quite in spirits at my reception.March 10.—Heard Dr. Williamson lecture and received his ticket. Visited the Pennsylvania Hospital, Dr. Levich showing me over it; admired the gallery with its alcoves and the excellent ventilation. I heard Professor Agassiz last night. He has just commenced a course of lectures on the animal world; his manner was simple and earnest, and the principle he laid down will render his course of lectures very interesting if he develop them fully. I am also rubbing up my French, which may be very important to me.The following letter is characteristic of that period of life:—February 25.My dear Mother.—You sent me a dear, good, welcome letter, and I kiss you heartily for all its affection and sympathy in my eccentric course. I did not miss out, either, any of the pious parts, but I do think, mother mine, that it is a little hard that you will not believe me when I tell you so seriously that my soul is doing first-rate. You urge upon me the importance of religion—why, bless the dear mother, what am I doing else but living religion all the time? Isn’t it my meat and my drink to do the good will of God; didn’t I use to sit in the lecture-room and send up a whole cannonade of little prayers; and didn’t a whole flood of answers come straight down from the throne of grace? And what am I doing now? Do you think I care about medicine? Nay, verily, it’s just to kill the devil, whom I hate so heartily—that’s the fact, mother; and if that isn’t forming Christ in one, the hope of Glory, why, I don’t know what is. So pray comfort yourself, and have faith that such a ‘child of many prayers’ will be fixed up all straight at last.... I live in a good society, the fellowship of hard-workers, for however little the result of my actions may be, I have the strengthening conviction that my aim is right, and that I, too, am working after my little fashion for the redemption of mankind. I agree with you fully in distrusting the ‘Harbinger,’ and should certainly banish it from my centre table if I had risen to the dignity of possessing one. I dislike their discussions, and their way of discussing some subjects. I think them calculated to do a great deal of mischief, and am only consoled by the reflection that few people read them. I go in whole-souledly for the Divine marriage institution, and shall always support it by precept, and as soon as I get the chance by example too, and all those who would upset itI consider fools and infidels. I think Associationists too often a very poor set of people, and if they would commence by reforming themselves, and let the Almighty take care of the world, I think they would be much better employed. As to the infidel French philosophy you talk of, it is just twaddle, which I should instantly reject if anybody were to stuff it into me. I am now longing to be at work abroad, where I might spend my time much more profitably—but I do want greatly to see you all again. How long it is since I was at home!—more than five years, I think. I cannot consent to become a stranger to theGeschwistern, and W. and E. & E. seem almost unknown. Good-bye, dear mother. I shall see you soon, and then you will be able to read me sermons to your heart’s content.—Your M. D.I felt, however, keenly the need of much wider opportunities for study than were open to women in America. Whilst considering this problem I received an invitation from one of my cousins, then visiting America, to return with him to England, and endeavour to spend some time in European study before engaging in practice in America. This valuable offer was joyfully accepted, and I prepared for a journey to Europe, first of all paying a short farewell visit to my family in Cincinnati.Extracts from the Journal.April 5.—How kind and good and glad to see me they all were! I walked out with S. and met them all. G. had quite grown out of my knowledge. I am very glad to have spent this fortnight at home. We had general and private talks without end.April 7.—They all came down to see me off. Theystood on the adjoining boat as we sailed away up the river, mother leaning on S., the three sisters on one side, H. and G. on the other, all hearts in sympathy. I could not keep down the tears as I caught the last glimpse of those dear, true ones.Travelling East, I joined my cousin in Boston, whence we sailed for Liverpool.Extracts from the Journal.April 18.—Dear Mr. Channing was with me till I left. His medical uncle, Dr. Channing, also came to see me. I never met my old friend more fully; he regretted deeply this flying visit, which disappointed him in the talks he had planned. Beautiful Boston Bay vanished in the distance. America, that land of memories, was left far behind. I took to my berth and lay there in misery five days and nights. How I loathe the ship!
In the summer of 1847, with my carefully hoarded earnings, I resolved to seek an entrance into a medical school. Philadelphia was then considered the chief seat of medical learning in America, so to Philadelphia I went; taking passage in a sailing vessel from Charleston for the sake of economy.
In Philadelphia I boarded in the family of Dr. William Elder. He and his admirable wife soon became warm and steadfast friends. Dr. Elder (author of the life of Dr. Kane, the Arctic voyager) was a remarkable man, of brilliant talent and genial nature. He took a generous interest in my plans, helping by his advice and encouragement through the months of effort and refusals which were now encountered.
Applications were cautiously but persistently made to the four medical colleges of Philadelphia for admission as a regular student. The interviews with their various professors were by turns hopeful and disappointing. Whilst pursuing these inquiries I commenced my anatomical studies in the privateschool of Dr. Allen. This gentleman by his thoughtful arrangements enabled me to overcome the natural repulsion to these studies generally felt at the outset. With a tact and delicacy for which I have always felt grateful, he gave me as my first lesson in practical anatomy a demonstration of the human wrist. The beauty of the tendons and exquisite arrangements of this part of the body struck my artistic sense, and appealed to the sentiment of reverence with which this anatomical branch of study was ever afterwards invested in my mind.
During the following months, whilst making applications to the different medical colleges of Philadelphia for admission as a regular student, I enlisted the services of my friends in the search for an Alma Mater. The interviews with the various professors, though disappointing, were often amusing.
May 27.—Called on Dr. Jackson (one of the oldest professors in Philadelphia), a small, bright-faced, grey-haired man, who looked up from his newspaper and saluted me with, ‘Well, what is it? What do you want?’ I told him I wanted to study medicine. He began to laugh, and asked me why. Then I detailed my plans. He became interested; said he would not give me an answer then; that there were great difficulties, but he did not know that they were insurmountable; he would let me know on Monday. I came home with a lighter heart, though I can hardly say I hope. On Monday Dr. Jackson said he had done his best for me, but the professorswere all opposed to my entrance. Dr. Horner advised me to try the Filbert Street and Franklin schools. A professor of Jefferson College thought it would be impossible to study there, and advised the New England schools.June 2.—Felt gloomy as thunder, trudging round to Dr. Darrach. He is the most non-committal man I ever saw. I harangued him, and he sat full five minutes without a word. I asked at last if he could give me any encouragement. ‘The subject is a novel one, madam, I have nothing to say either for or against it; you have awakened trains of thought upon which my mind is taking action, but I cannot express my opinion to you either one way or another.’ ‘Your opinion, I fear, is unfavourable.’ ‘I did not say so. I beg you, madam, distinctly to understand that I express no opinion one way or another; the way in which my mind acts in this matter I do not feel at liberty to unfold.’ ‘Shall I call on the other professors of your college?’ ‘I cannot take the responsibility of advising you to pursue such a course.’ ‘Can you not grant me admittance to your lectures, as you do not feel unfavourable to my scheme?’ ‘I have said no such thing; whether favourable or unfavourable, I have not expressed any opinion; and I beg leave to state clearly that the operation of my mind in regard to this matter I do not feel at liberty to unfold.’ I got up in despair, leaving his mind to take action on the subject at his leisure.Dr. Warrington told me that he had seen his friend Dr. Ashmead, who had told him that Paris was such a horrible place that I must give up my wish for a medical education—indeed, his communication would be so unfavourable that he would rather not meet me in person. I told the Doctor that if the path of duty led me to hell I would go there; and I did not think that by being withdevils I should become a devil myself—at which the good Doctor stared.Nevertheless, I shrink extremely from the idea of giving up the attempt in America and going to France, although the suggestion is often urged on me.
May 27.—Called on Dr. Jackson (one of the oldest professors in Philadelphia), a small, bright-faced, grey-haired man, who looked up from his newspaper and saluted me with, ‘Well, what is it? What do you want?’ I told him I wanted to study medicine. He began to laugh, and asked me why. Then I detailed my plans. He became interested; said he would not give me an answer then; that there were great difficulties, but he did not know that they were insurmountable; he would let me know on Monday. I came home with a lighter heart, though I can hardly say I hope. On Monday Dr. Jackson said he had done his best for me, but the professorswere all opposed to my entrance. Dr. Horner advised me to try the Filbert Street and Franklin schools. A professor of Jefferson College thought it would be impossible to study there, and advised the New England schools.
June 2.—Felt gloomy as thunder, trudging round to Dr. Darrach. He is the most non-committal man I ever saw. I harangued him, and he sat full five minutes without a word. I asked at last if he could give me any encouragement. ‘The subject is a novel one, madam, I have nothing to say either for or against it; you have awakened trains of thought upon which my mind is taking action, but I cannot express my opinion to you either one way or another.’ ‘Your opinion, I fear, is unfavourable.’ ‘I did not say so. I beg you, madam, distinctly to understand that I express no opinion one way or another; the way in which my mind acts in this matter I do not feel at liberty to unfold.’ ‘Shall I call on the other professors of your college?’ ‘I cannot take the responsibility of advising you to pursue such a course.’ ‘Can you not grant me admittance to your lectures, as you do not feel unfavourable to my scheme?’ ‘I have said no such thing; whether favourable or unfavourable, I have not expressed any opinion; and I beg leave to state clearly that the operation of my mind in regard to this matter I do not feel at liberty to unfold.’ I got up in despair, leaving his mind to take action on the subject at his leisure.
Dr. Warrington told me that he had seen his friend Dr. Ashmead, who had told him that Paris was such a horrible place that I must give up my wish for a medical education—indeed, his communication would be so unfavourable that he would rather not meet me in person. I told the Doctor that if the path of duty led me to hell I would go there; and I did not think that by being withdevils I should become a devil myself—at which the good Doctor stared.
Nevertheless, I shrink extremely from the idea of giving up the attempt in America and going to France, although the suggestion is often urged on me.
The fear of successful rivalry which at that time often existed in the medical mind was expressed by the dean of one of the smaller schools, who frankly replied to the application, ‘You cannot expect us to furnish you with a stick to break our heads with;’ so revolutionary seemed the attempt of a woman to leave a subordinate position and seek to obtain a complete medical education. A similarly mistaken notion of the rapid practical success which would attend a lady doctor was shown later by one of the professors of my medical college, who was desirous of entering into partnership with me on condition of sharing profits over 5,000 dollars on my first year’s practice.
During these fruitless efforts my kindly Quaker adviser, whose private lectures I attended, said to me: ‘Elizabeth, it is of no use trying. Thee cannot gain admission to these schools. Thee must go to Paris and don masculine attire to gain the necessary knowledge.’ Curiously enough, this suggestion of disguise made by good Dr. Warrington was also given me by Doctor Pankhurst, the Professor of Surgery in the largest college in Philadelphia. He thoroughly approved of a woman’s gaining complete medical knowledge; told me that although my public entrance into the classes was out of thequestion, yet if I would assume masculine attire and enter the college he could entirely rely on two or three of his students to whom he should communicate my disguise, who would watch the class and give me timely notice to withdraw should my disguise be suspected.
But neither the advice to go to Paris nor the suggestion of disguise tempted me for a moment. It was to my mind a moral crusade on which I had entered, a course of justice and common sense, and it must be pursued in the light of day, and with public sanction, in order to accomplish its end.
The following letter to Mrs. Willard of Troy, the well-known educationalist, describes the difficulties through which the young student had to walk warily:—
Philadelphia: May 24.I cannot refrain from expressing my obligations to you for directing me to the excellent Dr. Warrington. He has allowed me to visit his patients, attend his lectures, and make use of his library, and has spoken to more than one medical friend concerning my wishes; but with deep regret I am obliged to say that all the information hitherto obtained serves to show me the impossibility of accomplishing my purpose in America. I find myself rigidly excluded from the regular college routine, and there is no thorough course of lectures that can supply its place. The general sentiment of the physicians is strongly opposed to a woman’s intruding herself into the profession; consequently it would be perhaps impossible to obtain private instruction, but if that were possible, the enormous expense would render it impracticable,and where the feelings of the profession are strongly enlisted against such a scheme, the museums, libraries, hospitals, and all similar aids would be closed against me. In view of these and numerous other difficulties Dr. Warrington is discouraged, and joins with his medical brethren in advising me to give up the scheme. But a strong idea, long cherished till it has taken deep root in the soul and become an all-absorbing duty, cannot thus be laid aside. I must accomplish my end. I consider it the noblest and most useful path that I can tread, and if one country rejects me I will go to another.Through Dr. Warrington and other sources I am informed that my plan can be carried out in Paris, though the free Government lectures, delivered by the faculty, are confined to men, and a diploma is strictly denied to a woman, even when (as in one instance, as it is said) she has gone through the course in male attire; yet every year thorough courses of lectures are delivered by able physicians on every branch of medical knowledge, to which I should be admitted without hesitation and treated with becoming respect. The true place for study, then, seems open to me; but here, again, some friendly physicians raise stronger objections than ever. ‘You, a young unmarried lady,’ they say, ‘go to Paris, that city of fearful immorality, where every feeling will be outraged and insult attend you at every step; where vice is the natural atmosphere, and no young man can breathe it without being contaminated! Impossible, you are lost if you go!’Now, dear madam, I appeal to you, who have had the opportunity of studying the French in their native land, is not this a false view, a greatly exaggerated fear? Is it not perfectly true everywhere that a woman who respects herself will be respected by others; that wherethe life is directed by a strong, pure motive to a noble object, in a quiet, dignified, but determined manner, the better feelings of mankind are enlisted, and the woman excites esteem and respectful sympathy? To my mind this is perfectly clear, and I trust that your more experienced judgment will confirm my opinion. Probably, then, if all the information which I am still collecting agree with what I have already received, I may sail for France in the course of the summer, that I may familiarise myself with a rapid French delivery before the commencement of the winter lectures.I have tried to look every difficulty steadily in the face. I find none which seem to me unconquerable, and with the blessing of Providence I trust to accomplish my design.
Philadelphia: May 24.
I cannot refrain from expressing my obligations to you for directing me to the excellent Dr. Warrington. He has allowed me to visit his patients, attend his lectures, and make use of his library, and has spoken to more than one medical friend concerning my wishes; but with deep regret I am obliged to say that all the information hitherto obtained serves to show me the impossibility of accomplishing my purpose in America. I find myself rigidly excluded from the regular college routine, and there is no thorough course of lectures that can supply its place. The general sentiment of the physicians is strongly opposed to a woman’s intruding herself into the profession; consequently it would be perhaps impossible to obtain private instruction, but if that were possible, the enormous expense would render it impracticable,and where the feelings of the profession are strongly enlisted against such a scheme, the museums, libraries, hospitals, and all similar aids would be closed against me. In view of these and numerous other difficulties Dr. Warrington is discouraged, and joins with his medical brethren in advising me to give up the scheme. But a strong idea, long cherished till it has taken deep root in the soul and become an all-absorbing duty, cannot thus be laid aside. I must accomplish my end. I consider it the noblest and most useful path that I can tread, and if one country rejects me I will go to another.
Through Dr. Warrington and other sources I am informed that my plan can be carried out in Paris, though the free Government lectures, delivered by the faculty, are confined to men, and a diploma is strictly denied to a woman, even when (as in one instance, as it is said) she has gone through the course in male attire; yet every year thorough courses of lectures are delivered by able physicians on every branch of medical knowledge, to which I should be admitted without hesitation and treated with becoming respect. The true place for study, then, seems open to me; but here, again, some friendly physicians raise stronger objections than ever. ‘You, a young unmarried lady,’ they say, ‘go to Paris, that city of fearful immorality, where every feeling will be outraged and insult attend you at every step; where vice is the natural atmosphere, and no young man can breathe it without being contaminated! Impossible, you are lost if you go!’
Now, dear madam, I appeal to you, who have had the opportunity of studying the French in their native land, is not this a false view, a greatly exaggerated fear? Is it not perfectly true everywhere that a woman who respects herself will be respected by others; that wherethe life is directed by a strong, pure motive to a noble object, in a quiet, dignified, but determined manner, the better feelings of mankind are enlisted, and the woman excites esteem and respectful sympathy? To my mind this is perfectly clear, and I trust that your more experienced judgment will confirm my opinion. Probably, then, if all the information which I am still collecting agree with what I have already received, I may sail for France in the course of the summer, that I may familiarise myself with a rapid French delivery before the commencement of the winter lectures.
I have tried to look every difficulty steadily in the face. I find none which seem to me unconquerable, and with the blessing of Providence I trust to accomplish my design.
After a short, refreshing trip with my family to the seaside, the search was again renewed in Philadelphia. But applications made for admission to the medical schools both of Philadelphia and of New York were met with similarly unsuccessful results.
I therefore obtained a complete list of all the smaller schools of the Northern States, ‘country schools,’ as they were called. I examined their prospectuses, and quite at a venture sent in applications for admission to twelve of the most promising institutions, where full courses of instruction were given under able professors. The result was awaited with much anxiety, as the time for the commencement of the winter sessions was rapidly approaching. No answer came for some time. At last, to my immense relief (though not surprise, for failure never seemed possible), I received the following letter fromthe medical department of a small university town in the western part of the State of New York:—
Geneva: October 20, 1847.To Elizabeth Blackwell, Philadelphia.I am instructed by the faculty of the medical department of Geneva University to acknowledge receipt of yours of 3rd inst. A quorum of the faculty assembled last evening for the first time during the session, and it was thought important to submit your proposal to the class (of students), who have had a meeting this day, and acted entirely on their own behalf, without any interference on the part of the faculty. I send you the result of their deliberations, and need only add that there are no fears but that you can, by judicious management, not only ‘disarm criticism,’ but elevate yourself without detracting in the least from the dignity of the profession.Wishing you success in your undertaking, which some may deem bold in the present state of society, I subscribe myself,Yours respectfully,Charles A. Lee,Dean of the Faculty.15 Geneva Hotel.
Geneva: October 20, 1847.
To Elizabeth Blackwell, Philadelphia.
I am instructed by the faculty of the medical department of Geneva University to acknowledge receipt of yours of 3rd inst. A quorum of the faculty assembled last evening for the first time during the session, and it was thought important to submit your proposal to the class (of students), who have had a meeting this day, and acted entirely on their own behalf, without any interference on the part of the faculty. I send you the result of their deliberations, and need only add that there are no fears but that you can, by judicious management, not only ‘disarm criticism,’ but elevate yourself without detracting in the least from the dignity of the profession.
Wishing you success in your undertaking, which some may deem bold in the present state of society, I subscribe myself,
Yours respectfully,Charles A. Lee,Dean of the Faculty.
Yours respectfully,Charles A. Lee,Dean of the Faculty.
Yours respectfully,Charles A. Lee,Dean of the Faculty.
15 Geneva Hotel.
This letter enclosed the following unique and manly letter, which I had afterwards copied on parchment, and esteem one of my most valued possessions:—
At a meeting of the entire medical class of Geneva Medical College, held this day, October 20, 1847, the following resolutions were unanimously adopted:—1.Resolved—That one of the radical principles of aRepublican Government is the universal education of both sexes; that to every branch of scientific education the door should be open equally to all; that the application of Elizabeth Blackwell to become a member of our class meets our entire approbation; and in extending our unanimous invitation we pledge ourselves that no conduct of ours shall cause her to regret her attendance at this institution.2.Resolved—That a copy of these proceedings be signed by the chairman and transmitted to Elizabeth Blackwell.T. J. Stratton,Chairman.
At a meeting of the entire medical class of Geneva Medical College, held this day, October 20, 1847, the following resolutions were unanimously adopted:—
1.Resolved—That one of the radical principles of aRepublican Government is the universal education of both sexes; that to every branch of scientific education the door should be open equally to all; that the application of Elizabeth Blackwell to become a member of our class meets our entire approbation; and in extending our unanimous invitation we pledge ourselves that no conduct of ours shall cause her to regret her attendance at this institution.
2.Resolved—That a copy of these proceedings be signed by the chairman and transmitted to Elizabeth Blackwell.
T. J. Stratton,Chairman.
With an immense sigh of relief and aspiration of profound gratitude to Providence I instantly accepted the invitation, and prepared for the journey to Western New York State.
Leaving Philadelphia on November 4, I hastened through New York, travelled all night, and reached the little town of Geneva at 11p.m.on November 6.
The next day, after a refreshing sleep, I sallied forth for an interview with the dean of the college, enjoying the view of the beautiful lake on which Geneva is situated, notwithstanding the cold, drizzling, windy day. After an interview with the authorities of the college I was duly inscribed on the list as student No. 130, in the medical department of the Geneva University.
I at once established myself in a comfortable boarding-house, in the same street as my college, and three minutes’ walk from it—a beautiful walk along the high bank overlooking the lake. I hung my room with dear mementoes of absent friends,and soon with hope and zeal and thankful feelings of rest I settled down to study.
Naturally, some little time was required to adjust the relations of the new student to her unusual surroundings. My first experiences are thus given in a letter to a sister:—
Geneva: November 9, 1847.I’ve just finished copying the notes of my last lecture. Business is over for to-day; I throw a fresh stick into my ‘air-tight,’ and now for refreshment by a talk with my own dear sister. Your letter containing E.’s was the first to welcome me in my new residence; right welcome, I assure you, it was, for I was gloomy—very. It was on Monday evening your letter came—my first work-day in Geneva. It had rained incessantly; I was in an upper room of a large boarding-house without a soul to speak to. I had attended five lectures, but nevertheless I did not know whether I could do what I ought to, for the Professor of Anatomy was absent, and had been spoken of as a queer man. The demonstrator hesitated as to my dissecting; I had no books, and didn’t know where to get any; and my head was bewildered with running about the great college building—never going out of the same door I went in at.This evening, however, I have finished my second day’s lectures; the weather is still gloomy, but I feel sunshiny and happy, strongly encouraged, with a grand future before me, and all owing to a fat little fairy in the shape of the Professor of Anatomy! This morning, on repairing to the college, I was introduced to Dr. Webster, the Professor of Anatomy, a little plump man, blunt in manner and very voluble. He shook me warmly by the hand, said my plan was capital; he had some fun too about a lady pupil, for he never lost a joke; the class hadacted manfully; their resolutions were as good as a political meeting, &c.He asked me what branches I had studied. I told him all but surgery. ‘Well,’ said Dr. Lee, ‘do you mean to practise surgery?’ ‘Why, of course she does,’ broke in Dr. Webster. ‘Think of the cases of femoral hernia; only think what a well-educated woman would do in a city like New York. Why, my dear sir, she’d have her hands full in no time; her success would be immense. Yes, yes, you’ll go through the course, and get your diploma with greatéclattoo; we’ll give you the opportunities. You’ll make a stir, I can tell you.’I handed him a note of introduction from Dr. Warrington, and then he told me to wait in the ante-room while he read it to the medical class, who were assembled in the amphitheatre for his lecture, which was to be preparatory to one of the most delicate operations in surgery, and I suppose he wanted to remind them of their promise of good behaviour. I could hear him reading it. When his age and experience were spoken of there was a shout of laughter, for he can’t be more than forty-five and not much of dignity about him; but at the conclusion there was a round of applause, after which I quietly entered, and certainly have no reason to complain of medical students, for though they eye me curiously, it is also in a very friendly manner. After the lecture was over, the demonstrator, who now shows the utmost friendliness, explained to me at the Doctor’s request a very important subject which I had lost. It was admirably done, illustrated on the subject, and if to-day’s lessons were a fair specimen, I certainly shall have no cause to complain of my anatomical instructors. The plan pursued here is admirable, and New York and Philadelphia may learn more than one lesson from Geneva. Dr. Webster came to me laughing after the first lecture, saying: ‘You attracttoo much attention, Miss Blackwell; there was a very large number of strangers present this afternoon—I shall guard against this in future.’ ‘Yes,’ said Dr. Lee; ‘we were saying to-day that this step might prove quite a good advertisement for the college; if there were no other advantage to be gained, it will attract so much notice. I shall bring the matter into the medical journals; why, I’ll venture to say in ten years’ time one-third the classes in our colleges will consist of women. After the precedent you will have established, people’s eyes will be opened.’Now, all this kind feeling encourages me greatly, and I need it; for though my purpose has never wavered, a flat, heavy feeling was growing upon me from constant disappointment. I was fast losing that spring of hope that is so pleasant; consequently praise cannot make me vain, and the notice I attract is a matter of perfect indifference. I sit quietly in this large assemblage of young men, and they might be women or mummies for aught I care. I sometimes think I’m too much disciplined, but it is certainly necessary for the position I occupy. I believe the professors don’t exactly know in what species of the human family to place me, and the students are a little bewildered. The other people at first regarded me with suspicion, but I am so quiet and gentle that suspicion turns to astonishment, and even the little boys in the street stand still and stare as I pass. ’Tis droll; sometimes I laugh, sometimes I feel a little sad, but in Geneva the nine days’ wonder soon will cease, and I cannot but congratulate myself on having found at last the right place for my beginning.
Geneva: November 9, 1847.
I’ve just finished copying the notes of my last lecture. Business is over for to-day; I throw a fresh stick into my ‘air-tight,’ and now for refreshment by a talk with my own dear sister. Your letter containing E.’s was the first to welcome me in my new residence; right welcome, I assure you, it was, for I was gloomy—very. It was on Monday evening your letter came—my first work-day in Geneva. It had rained incessantly; I was in an upper room of a large boarding-house without a soul to speak to. I had attended five lectures, but nevertheless I did not know whether I could do what I ought to, for the Professor of Anatomy was absent, and had been spoken of as a queer man. The demonstrator hesitated as to my dissecting; I had no books, and didn’t know where to get any; and my head was bewildered with running about the great college building—never going out of the same door I went in at.
This evening, however, I have finished my second day’s lectures; the weather is still gloomy, but I feel sunshiny and happy, strongly encouraged, with a grand future before me, and all owing to a fat little fairy in the shape of the Professor of Anatomy! This morning, on repairing to the college, I was introduced to Dr. Webster, the Professor of Anatomy, a little plump man, blunt in manner and very voluble. He shook me warmly by the hand, said my plan was capital; he had some fun too about a lady pupil, for he never lost a joke; the class hadacted manfully; their resolutions were as good as a political meeting, &c.
He asked me what branches I had studied. I told him all but surgery. ‘Well,’ said Dr. Lee, ‘do you mean to practise surgery?’ ‘Why, of course she does,’ broke in Dr. Webster. ‘Think of the cases of femoral hernia; only think what a well-educated woman would do in a city like New York. Why, my dear sir, she’d have her hands full in no time; her success would be immense. Yes, yes, you’ll go through the course, and get your diploma with greatéclattoo; we’ll give you the opportunities. You’ll make a stir, I can tell you.’
I handed him a note of introduction from Dr. Warrington, and then he told me to wait in the ante-room while he read it to the medical class, who were assembled in the amphitheatre for his lecture, which was to be preparatory to one of the most delicate operations in surgery, and I suppose he wanted to remind them of their promise of good behaviour. I could hear him reading it. When his age and experience were spoken of there was a shout of laughter, for he can’t be more than forty-five and not much of dignity about him; but at the conclusion there was a round of applause, after which I quietly entered, and certainly have no reason to complain of medical students, for though they eye me curiously, it is also in a very friendly manner. After the lecture was over, the demonstrator, who now shows the utmost friendliness, explained to me at the Doctor’s request a very important subject which I had lost. It was admirably done, illustrated on the subject, and if to-day’s lessons were a fair specimen, I certainly shall have no cause to complain of my anatomical instructors. The plan pursued here is admirable, and New York and Philadelphia may learn more than one lesson from Geneva. Dr. Webster came to me laughing after the first lecture, saying: ‘You attracttoo much attention, Miss Blackwell; there was a very large number of strangers present this afternoon—I shall guard against this in future.’ ‘Yes,’ said Dr. Lee; ‘we were saying to-day that this step might prove quite a good advertisement for the college; if there were no other advantage to be gained, it will attract so much notice. I shall bring the matter into the medical journals; why, I’ll venture to say in ten years’ time one-third the classes in our colleges will consist of women. After the precedent you will have established, people’s eyes will be opened.’
Now, all this kind feeling encourages me greatly, and I need it; for though my purpose has never wavered, a flat, heavy feeling was growing upon me from constant disappointment. I was fast losing that spring of hope that is so pleasant; consequently praise cannot make me vain, and the notice I attract is a matter of perfect indifference. I sit quietly in this large assemblage of young men, and they might be women or mummies for aught I care. I sometimes think I’m too much disciplined, but it is certainly necessary for the position I occupy. I believe the professors don’t exactly know in what species of the human family to place me, and the students are a little bewildered. The other people at first regarded me with suspicion, but I am so quiet and gentle that suspicion turns to astonishment, and even the little boys in the street stand still and stare as I pass. ’Tis droll; sometimes I laugh, sometimes I feel a little sad, but in Geneva the nine days’ wonder soon will cease, and I cannot but congratulate myself on having found at last the right place for my beginning.
I had not the slightest idea of the commotion created by my appearance as a medical student in the little town. Very slowly I perceived that adoctor’s wife at the table avoided any communication with me, and that as I walked backwards and forwards to college the ladies stopped to stare at me, as at a curious animal. I afterwards found that I had so shocked Geneva propriety that the theory was fully established either that I was a bad woman, whose designs would gradually become evident, or that, being insane, an outbreak of insanity would soon be apparent. Feeling the unfriendliness of the people, though quite unaware of all this gossip, I never walked abroad, but hastening daily to my college as to a sure refuge, I knew when I shut the great doors behind me that I shut out all unkindly criticism, and I soon felt perfectly at home amongst my fellow-students.
The following extracts from my journal of those days show how any early difficulties were successfully overcome:—
November 9.—My first happy day; I feel really encouraged. The little fat Professor of Anatomy is a capital fellow; certainly I shall love fat men more than lean ones henceforth. He gave just the go-ahead directing impulse needful; he will afford me every advantage, and says I shall graduate withéclat. Then, too, I am glad that they like the notoriety of the thing, and think it a good ‘spec.’November 10.—Attended the demonstrator’s evening lecture—very clear—how superior to books! Oh, this is the way to learn! The class behaves very well; and people seem all to grow kind.November 11.—Anatomy very interesting to-day; two admirable demonstrations. Dr. Webster, full ofenthusiasm, told us of Godman, who was converted to phrenology by reading a work against it, in order to cut it up.November 15.—To-day, a second operation at which I was not allowed to be present. This annoys me. I was quite saddened and discouraged by Dr. Webster requesting me to be absent from some of his demonstrations. I don’t believe it is his wish. I wrote to him hoping to change things.November 17.—Dr. Webster seemed much pleased with my note, and quite cheered me by his wish to read it to the class to-morrow, saying if they were all actuated by such sentiments the medical class at Geneva would be a very noble one. He could hardly guess how much I needed a little praise. I have no fear of the kind students.November 20.—In the amphitheatre yesterday a little folded paper dropped on my arms as I was making notes; it looked very much as if there were writing in it, but I shook it off and went on quietly with my notes. Some after-demonstration of a similar kind produced a hiss from the opposite side of the room. I felt also a very light touch on my head, but I guess my quiet manner will soon stop any nonsense.November 22.—A trying day, and I feel almost worn out, though it was encouraging too, and in some measure a triumph; but ’tis a terrible ordeal! That dissection was just as much as I could bear. Some of the students blushed, some were hysterical, not one could keep in a smile, and some who I am sure would not hurt my feelings for the world if it depended on them, held down their faces and shook. My delicacy was certainly shocked, and yet the exhibition was in some sense ludicrous. I had to pinch my hand till the blood nearly came, and call on Christ to help me from smiling, for that would haveruined everything; but I sat in grave indifference, though the effort made my heart palpitate most painfully. Dr. Webster, who had perhaps the most trying position, behaved admirably.November 24.—To-day the Doctor read my note to the class. In this note I told him that I was there as a student with an earnest purpose, and as a student simply I should be regarded; that the study of anatomy was a most serious one, exciting profound reverence, and the suggestion to absent myself from any lectures seemed to me a grave mistake. I did not wish to do so, but would yield to any wish of the class without hesitation, if itwastheir desire. I stayed in the ante-room whilst the note was being read. I listened joyfully to the very hearty approbation with which it was received by the class, and then entered the amphitheatre and quietly resumed my place. The Doctor told me he felt quite relieved.
November 9.—My first happy day; I feel really encouraged. The little fat Professor of Anatomy is a capital fellow; certainly I shall love fat men more than lean ones henceforth. He gave just the go-ahead directing impulse needful; he will afford me every advantage, and says I shall graduate withéclat. Then, too, I am glad that they like the notoriety of the thing, and think it a good ‘spec.’
November 10.—Attended the demonstrator’s evening lecture—very clear—how superior to books! Oh, this is the way to learn! The class behaves very well; and people seem all to grow kind.
November 11.—Anatomy very interesting to-day; two admirable demonstrations. Dr. Webster, full ofenthusiasm, told us of Godman, who was converted to phrenology by reading a work against it, in order to cut it up.
November 15.—To-day, a second operation at which I was not allowed to be present. This annoys me. I was quite saddened and discouraged by Dr. Webster requesting me to be absent from some of his demonstrations. I don’t believe it is his wish. I wrote to him hoping to change things.
November 17.—Dr. Webster seemed much pleased with my note, and quite cheered me by his wish to read it to the class to-morrow, saying if they were all actuated by such sentiments the medical class at Geneva would be a very noble one. He could hardly guess how much I needed a little praise. I have no fear of the kind students.
November 20.—In the amphitheatre yesterday a little folded paper dropped on my arms as I was making notes; it looked very much as if there were writing in it, but I shook it off and went on quietly with my notes. Some after-demonstration of a similar kind produced a hiss from the opposite side of the room. I felt also a very light touch on my head, but I guess my quiet manner will soon stop any nonsense.
November 22.—A trying day, and I feel almost worn out, though it was encouraging too, and in some measure a triumph; but ’tis a terrible ordeal! That dissection was just as much as I could bear. Some of the students blushed, some were hysterical, not one could keep in a smile, and some who I am sure would not hurt my feelings for the world if it depended on them, held down their faces and shook. My delicacy was certainly shocked, and yet the exhibition was in some sense ludicrous. I had to pinch my hand till the blood nearly came, and call on Christ to help me from smiling, for that would haveruined everything; but I sat in grave indifference, though the effort made my heart palpitate most painfully. Dr. Webster, who had perhaps the most trying position, behaved admirably.
November 24.—To-day the Doctor read my note to the class. In this note I told him that I was there as a student with an earnest purpose, and as a student simply I should be regarded; that the study of anatomy was a most serious one, exciting profound reverence, and the suggestion to absent myself from any lectures seemed to me a grave mistake. I did not wish to do so, but would yield to any wish of the class without hesitation, if itwastheir desire. I stayed in the ante-room whilst the note was being read. I listened joyfully to the very hearty approbation with which it was received by the class, and then entered the amphitheatre and quietly resumed my place. The Doctor told me he felt quite relieved.
No further difficulty ever afterwards occurred.
December 4.—Dr. Webster sent for me to examine a case of a poor woman at his rooms. ’Twas a horrible exposure; indecent for any poor woman to be subjected to such a torture; she seemed to feel it, poor and ignorant as she was. I felt more than ever the necessity of my mission. But I went home out of spirits, I hardly know why. I felt alone. I must work by myself all life long.Christmas Day.—Bright and gay with sleighs. The lake looks most beautiful, the mist rising from it in arches, the sky a brilliant blue, and the ground covered with snow. I received my Christmas Annual with great joy; and having purchased 25 cents’ worth of almonds and raisins, I had quite a cosy time reading it.Sunday, January 16.—A most beautiful day; it did me good. The text impressed itself on me—‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.’ Ifelt happy and blessed. Ah! if the Almighty would always shine on me, how strong I should be! ‘The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.’
December 4.—Dr. Webster sent for me to examine a case of a poor woman at his rooms. ’Twas a horrible exposure; indecent for any poor woman to be subjected to such a torture; she seemed to feel it, poor and ignorant as she was. I felt more than ever the necessity of my mission. But I went home out of spirits, I hardly know why. I felt alone. I must work by myself all life long.
Christmas Day.—Bright and gay with sleighs. The lake looks most beautiful, the mist rising from it in arches, the sky a brilliant blue, and the ground covered with snow. I received my Christmas Annual with great joy; and having purchased 25 cents’ worth of almonds and raisins, I had quite a cosy time reading it.
Sunday, January 16.—A most beautiful day; it did me good. The text impressed itself on me—‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.’ Ifelt happy and blessed. Ah! if the Almighty would always shine on me, how strong I should be! ‘The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.’
The behaviour of the medical class during the two years that I was with them was admirable. It was that of true Christian gentlemen. I learned later that some of them had been inclined to think my application for admission a hoax, perpetrated at their expense by a rival college. But when thebona-fidestudent actually appeared they gave her a manly welcome, and fulfilled to the letter the promise contained in their invitation.
My place in the various lecture-rooms was always kept for me, and I was never in any way molested. Walking down the crowded amphitheatre after the class was seated, no notice was taken of me. Whilst the class waited in one of the large lecture-rooms for the Professor of Practice, groups of the wilder students gathered at the windows, which overlooked the grounds of a large normal school for young ladies. The pupils of this institution knew the hour of this lecture, and gathered at their windows for a little fun. Here, peeping from behind the blinds, they responded to the jests and hurrahs of the students. ‘See the one in pink!’ ‘No, look at the one with a blue tie; she has a note,’ &c.—fun suddenly hushed by the entrance of the Professor. Meanwhile I had quietly looked over my notes in the seat always reserved for me,entirely undisturbed by the frolic going on at the windows.
My studies in anatomy were most thoughtfully arranged by Dr. Le Ford, who selected four of the steadier students to work with me in the private room of the surgical professor, adjoining the amphitheatre. There we worked evening after evening in the most friendly way, and I gained curious glimpses into the escapades of student life. Being several years older than my companions, they treated me like an elder sister, and talked freely together, feeling my friendly sympathy.
Under the intelligent instruction of the demonstrator anatomy became a most fascinating study. The wonderful arrangements of the human body excited an interest and admiration which simply obliterated the more superficial feelings of repugnance; and I passed hour after hour at night alone in the college, tracing out the ramification of parts, until, suddenly struck by the intense stillness around, I found that it was nearly midnight, and the rest of the little town asleep.
I was equally amazed and shocked some years later, after dining with Mr. Walsh, the American Consul in Paris, to learn that he had remarked that he could not look at my long slender fingers without thinking of the anatomical work in which they had been engaged.
As the term drew to its end there was regret at parting from friends I had made, and also anxiety from the uncertainties that still attended my futurecourse. These feelings are expressed in my journal:—
January 21.—I felt sad when the lectures actually closed. I received a curious friendly letter from one of the students, requesting the honour of an occasional correspondence. It cheered me, funny as it was. Another student told me he had a daguerreotype-room, and asked me to sit for my likeness to-morrow; but I told him it had annoyed me so much to see my name in the papers that I certainly could not give my face too.[3]He said he had thought of graduating in August, but now he was glad he had not, as I intended returning to Geneva—too funny!January 24.—Went to Dr. Hadley for my certificate; and attended the examinations. I suppose they were as thorough as most; but they were certainly not much of a test. Most of the students answered very well, but some very badly.Miss Waller gave me an oyster supper and we had a very pleasant time. Mrs. Wilson convulsed us by an account of how she was actually struck down by the sudden braying of a jackass, which she heard for the first time during a visit to the North, she never having heard the bray before.January 25.—Attended Commencement (or ceremony of graduation), which after all was not so very formidable. When I went to wish Dr. Hadley good-bye I found the whole faculty assembled, and very merry at breaking up. They talked over my affairs, but gave me no important advice. To my great disappointment no letters of introduction were prepared for me, but only a promise given that they should be sent on at once. I was very sad at parting from the Wallers; but had a pleasant chat with the students whom I found in the railroad cars.
January 21.—I felt sad when the lectures actually closed. I received a curious friendly letter from one of the students, requesting the honour of an occasional correspondence. It cheered me, funny as it was. Another student told me he had a daguerreotype-room, and asked me to sit for my likeness to-morrow; but I told him it had annoyed me so much to see my name in the papers that I certainly could not give my face too.[3]He said he had thought of graduating in August, but now he was glad he had not, as I intended returning to Geneva—too funny!
January 24.—Went to Dr. Hadley for my certificate; and attended the examinations. I suppose they were as thorough as most; but they were certainly not much of a test. Most of the students answered very well, but some very badly.
Miss Waller gave me an oyster supper and we had a very pleasant time. Mrs. Wilson convulsed us by an account of how she was actually struck down by the sudden braying of a jackass, which she heard for the first time during a visit to the North, she never having heard the bray before.
January 25.—Attended Commencement (or ceremony of graduation), which after all was not so very formidable. When I went to wish Dr. Hadley good-bye I found the whole faculty assembled, and very merry at breaking up. They talked over my affairs, but gave me no important advice. To my great disappointment no letters of introduction were prepared for me, but only a promise given that they should be sent on at once. I was very sad at parting from the Wallers; but had a pleasant chat with the students whom I found in the railroad cars.
Passing through New York, where I dined with my kind preceptor, Dr. S. H. Dickson, and his wife, then living in the town, I returned to Philadelphia to try and arrange for summer study. Whilst seeking medical opportunities I again stayed in Dr. Elder’s family, and endeavoured to increase my slender finances by disposing of some stories I had written, and by obtaining music pupils.
Knowing very little of practical medicine, I finally decided to spend the summer, if possible, studying in the hospital wards of the great Blockley Almshouse of Philadelphia. This enormous institution promised a fine field of observation. I obtained a letter of introduction to Mr. Gilpin, one of the directors of the almshouse.
He received me most kindly, but informed me that the institution was so dominated by party feeling that if he, as a Whig, should bring forward my application for admission, it would be inevitably opposed by the other two parties—viz. the Democrats and the Native Americans. He said that my only chance of admission lay in securing the supportof each of those parties, without referring in any way to the other rival parties. I accordingly undertook my sole act of ‘lobbying.’ I interviewed each political leader with favourable results, and then sent in my petition to the first Board meeting—when, lo! a unique scene took place; all were prepared to fight in my behalf, but there was no one to fight! I was unanimously admitted to reside in the hospital. This unanimity, I was afterwards assured, was quite without precedent in the records of the institution.
On entering the Blockley Almshouse, a large room on the third floor had been appropriated to my use. It was in the women’s syphilitic department, the most unruly part of the institution. It was thought that my residence there might act as a check on the very disorderly inmates. My presence was a mystery to these poor creatures. I used to hear stealthy steps approach and pause at my door, evidently curious to know what I was about. So I placed my table with the books and papers on which I was engaged directly in a line with the keyhole; and there I worked in view of any who chose to investigate the proceedings of the mysterious stranger. The following home letter gives a glimpse of the Blockley life:—
August.Dear Mother,—Do not fear for me. I go on smoothly and healthily at Blockley; there is really nothing pestilential amongst the diseases, and I live simply, do my duty, trust in God, and mock at the devil! The matron is the only lady in the establishment (present company excepted), and I frequently step in to see her.She wears a nice white cap, has smooth grey hair, and soft dove’s eyes like yours, and I sometimes look at her and think of you till her loud voice breaks forth in fierce scolding, and then I think of Mrs. Beelzebub. She sits in an immense room, in the centre of the almshouse proper, and ensconced in her armchair, with feet propped on a velvet footstool, she dispenses orders from morning to night, gives out clothing, raves at the paupers, and dooms the refractory ones to a shower-bath. She is a Quaker—very pious, I believe—attends yearly meeting regularly, and has an Episcopal minister for her only son; she is one of the ‘strong-minded women,’ and manages matters to the entire satisfaction of the committee. I like to talk with her occasionally, for she is shrewd and has seen much of life through dark spectacles.What a contrast she is to our head physician! When I first saw Dr. Benedict I thought him the very loveliest man the Almighty ever created, and I still preserve my opinion; the tears come into his eyes as he bends down to soothe some dying woman, and his voice is as gentle, his touch as kind to each patient as if she were his sister. Then he is as truthful, energetic, and spirited as he is kind, so, of course, we are very good friends, though we don’t see much of each other.I often send a thought to Cincinnati as I roam through the wards and imagine our contrasted employments; all letters unite in calling you the best, the most cheerful, most indefatigable mother that ever did exist. ‘All her daughters praise her, and her sons call her blessed.’ How I wish you could pay me another visit this summer! Well, dear mother, Heaven bless you—write to me sometime.Your loving physician, E.
August.
Dear Mother,—Do not fear for me. I go on smoothly and healthily at Blockley; there is really nothing pestilential amongst the diseases, and I live simply, do my duty, trust in God, and mock at the devil! The matron is the only lady in the establishment (present company excepted), and I frequently step in to see her.She wears a nice white cap, has smooth grey hair, and soft dove’s eyes like yours, and I sometimes look at her and think of you till her loud voice breaks forth in fierce scolding, and then I think of Mrs. Beelzebub. She sits in an immense room, in the centre of the almshouse proper, and ensconced in her armchair, with feet propped on a velvet footstool, she dispenses orders from morning to night, gives out clothing, raves at the paupers, and dooms the refractory ones to a shower-bath. She is a Quaker—very pious, I believe—attends yearly meeting regularly, and has an Episcopal minister for her only son; she is one of the ‘strong-minded women,’ and manages matters to the entire satisfaction of the committee. I like to talk with her occasionally, for she is shrewd and has seen much of life through dark spectacles.
What a contrast she is to our head physician! When I first saw Dr. Benedict I thought him the very loveliest man the Almighty ever created, and I still preserve my opinion; the tears come into his eyes as he bends down to soothe some dying woman, and his voice is as gentle, his touch as kind to each patient as if she were his sister. Then he is as truthful, energetic, and spirited as he is kind, so, of course, we are very good friends, though we don’t see much of each other.
I often send a thought to Cincinnati as I roam through the wards and imagine our contrasted employments; all letters unite in calling you the best, the most cheerful, most indefatigable mother that ever did exist. ‘All her daughters praise her, and her sons call her blessed.’ How I wish you could pay me another visit this summer! Well, dear mother, Heaven bless you—write to me sometime.
Your loving physician, E.
At that time, and for many years after, the subjectwhich those wards where I lived represented was an unknown problem to me. I was strangely ignorant of the extent and meaning of that phase of our human society which represents the selfish relations of men and women. This semi-blindness, however, proved a real safeguard to me through the many unusual experiences of my subsequent life. It was not until 1869, when attending the Social Science Congress in Bristol, that my mind at last fully comprehended the hideousness of modern fornication.
But my residence at Blockley prepared my mind to some extent for later revelations, as is shown by entries in my journal:—
June 22.—I had a long talk with Nurse Welch, on the patients in her departments, which impressed me deeply. Most of the women are unmarried, a large proportion having lived at service and been seduced by their masters, though, on the whole, about as many seducers are unmarried as married; I found no instance of a married woman living with her husband entering.This morning one young woman tried to escape from Blockley by tying sheets together and fastening them outside the window bars, but they giving way, she fell down from the third storey, and was picked up suffering from concussion of the brain and other injuries. All this is horrible! Women must really open their eyes to it. I am convinced thattheymust regulate this matter. But how?August 17.—Drank tea with the matron, and had a very pleasant time. She excites me, and I influence her. She actually apologised to me for her rough and tyrannical treatment of one of the women.August 19.—A beautiful thought came to me thislovely morning. Emerson says, ‘Our faith comes to us in moments, our vice is habitual.’ I never till now could explain this to my satisfaction. It is that the atmosphere of our society, of our daily surroundings, is false; it attracts the demons, they encompass us continually, for we live in their home. The angels have to strive to come to us. But when by a holy inspiration, or an effort of man’s nobler nature, he rises to a purer sphere, then the angels throng lovingly round him: he breathes the Divine life. But the moment this effort is relaxed, he, not living in a heavenly atmosphere, naturally and inevitably sinks again into hell, because his present home is there—for he cannot separate himself from the race. Not till theraceis redeemed will our habitual state be heavenly, and the true spontaneous Divine life be possible. This is the philosophy of effort. The solidarity of our race asserts the impossibility of present permanent Divine life. Bless God for our deep momentary experiences—our prophetic assurances! This sweet morning refreshes me inexpressibly. The wind that lifts my hair seems filled with angel hands that soothe the soul to peace; that little warbling bird fills me with holy joy; a glory seems to rest everywhere, a tide from the Divine Nature.
June 22.—I had a long talk with Nurse Welch, on the patients in her departments, which impressed me deeply. Most of the women are unmarried, a large proportion having lived at service and been seduced by their masters, though, on the whole, about as many seducers are unmarried as married; I found no instance of a married woman living with her husband entering.
This morning one young woman tried to escape from Blockley by tying sheets together and fastening them outside the window bars, but they giving way, she fell down from the third storey, and was picked up suffering from concussion of the brain and other injuries. All this is horrible! Women must really open their eyes to it. I am convinced thattheymust regulate this matter. But how?
August 17.—Drank tea with the matron, and had a very pleasant time. She excites me, and I influence her. She actually apologised to me for her rough and tyrannical treatment of one of the women.
August 19.—A beautiful thought came to me thislovely morning. Emerson says, ‘Our faith comes to us in moments, our vice is habitual.’ I never till now could explain this to my satisfaction. It is that the atmosphere of our society, of our daily surroundings, is false; it attracts the demons, they encompass us continually, for we live in their home. The angels have to strive to come to us. But when by a holy inspiration, or an effort of man’s nobler nature, he rises to a purer sphere, then the angels throng lovingly round him: he breathes the Divine life. But the moment this effort is relaxed, he, not living in a heavenly atmosphere, naturally and inevitably sinks again into hell, because his present home is there—for he cannot separate himself from the race. Not till theraceis redeemed will our habitual state be heavenly, and the true spontaneous Divine life be possible. This is the philosophy of effort. The solidarity of our race asserts the impossibility of present permanent Divine life. Bless God for our deep momentary experiences—our prophetic assurances! This sweet morning refreshes me inexpressibly. The wind that lifts my hair seems filled with angel hands that soothe the soul to peace; that little warbling bird fills me with holy joy; a glory seems to rest everywhere, a tide from the Divine Nature.
During my residence at Blockley, the medical head of the hospital, Dr. Benedict, was most kind, and gave me every facility in his power. I had free entry to all the women’s wards, and was soon on good terms with the nurses. But the young resident physicians, unlike their chief, were not friendly. When I walked into the wards they walked out. They ceased to write the diagnosis and treatment of patients on the card at the head of each bed, whichhad hitherto been the custom, thus throwing me entirely on my own resources for clinical study.
During the summer of 1848 the famine fever was raging in Ireland. Multitudes of emigrants were attacked with fever whilst crossing the ocean, and so many were brought to Blockley that it was difficult to provide accommodation for them, many being laid on beds on the floor. But this terrible epidemic furnished an impressive object-lesson, and I chose this form of typhus as the subject of my graduation thesis, studying in the midst of the poor dying sufferers who crowded the hospital wards. I read my thesis to Dr. Elder, and was greatly encouraged by his hearty approbation.
Trying as my painful residence at Blockley had been both to body and mind, I was conscious of the great gain in medical knowledge and worldly experience which it had afforded. The following journal entry expresses the mixed feelings with which that strange residence was left:—
September 22.—My last evening at Blockley. Here I sit writing by my first fire. How glad I am, to-morrow, to-morrow, I go home to my friends! And yet as I watched the beautiful sunset from my great windows, as little Mary Ann pays her willing attendance, and all seems so friendly; as I walked to Dr. Benedict’s with my thesis, and felt the entrancing day and the lovely country, Ialmostregretted that I was going to leave. Heaven guide me! May good spirits ever surround me!
September 22.—My last evening at Blockley. Here I sit writing by my first fire. How glad I am, to-morrow, to-morrow, I go home to my friends! And yet as I watched the beautiful sunset from my great windows, as little Mary Ann pays her willing attendance, and all seems so friendly; as I walked to Dr. Benedict’s with my thesis, and felt the entrancing day and the lovely country, Ialmostregretted that I was going to leave. Heaven guide me! May good spirits ever surround me!
At the end of the summer I gladly returned to the healthy and hopeful college life at Geneva.Passing through New York, where I saw Dr. Dickson and his family and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach, I reached my winter’s home on October 3, reported myself at college, met everywhere a kind welcome, and settled down for winter work. The clever demonstrator again afforded me his valuable aid in anatomy, and the friendliness of the class continued. Sometimes, whilst sitting by the Doctor during some delicate demonstration of the brain, the students who were crowding round, standing on chairs, leaning on one another’s shoulders, kept most respectfully from me, drawing back instantly when by accident they touched my head or shoulder.[4]
October 26.—The class held a meeting to-day to request a holiday on election day; and a political division was called for by the assembled students. I went over to the ‘Free Soil’ side, and was received with repeated cheering. I asked Dr. Le Ford, reproachfully, if he was going to vote for the slave-holder, Taylor; whereupon he gave me his reasons for political action, and grew quite eloquent in his self-defence.November 12.—Howy made his appearance to-day, just as I settled down to perpetrate an essay for the family Christmas Annual. How good it is to see a brother! He looked very well, and we had a merry time together. I stayed away from afternoon lectures to be with him. He is a capital companion and greatly improved. I did more laughing than I’ve done for months. His visit did me real good, for I have been so lonely. Heaven bless the dear boy in his future!Sunday, 19th.—Alone all day in my room, yet anything but lonely. Bright visions of usefulness have beenfloating round me. I consecrated myself anew to the accomplishment of a great idea. I tried to lecture for an hour to an imaginary audience; striving to prepare for work by seeking expression for my thoughts.I would I were not so exclusively a doer; speech seems essential to the reformer, but mine is at present a very stammering, childish utterance.26th.—Went to church. Mr. Hogarth said some true things. He drew our thoughts to the reformers of old, with their sublime trust in the Most High. With a strange feeling of pleasure I claimed kindred with Asa, King of Judah, who broke the idols of the people and overcame the hosts of the Ethiopians.November 30.—Our evening lecture broke up in a political Hurrah! for a Whig orator and John Van Buren were both speaking in the town, and the students rushed to attend the political meetings. I again discussed the subject with Dr. Le Ford; he justifying himself enthusiastically for being a Whig. He talked well, but I grew tired of those old expediences.
October 26.—The class held a meeting to-day to request a holiday on election day; and a political division was called for by the assembled students. I went over to the ‘Free Soil’ side, and was received with repeated cheering. I asked Dr. Le Ford, reproachfully, if he was going to vote for the slave-holder, Taylor; whereupon he gave me his reasons for political action, and grew quite eloquent in his self-defence.
November 12.—Howy made his appearance to-day, just as I settled down to perpetrate an essay for the family Christmas Annual. How good it is to see a brother! He looked very well, and we had a merry time together. I stayed away from afternoon lectures to be with him. He is a capital companion and greatly improved. I did more laughing than I’ve done for months. His visit did me real good, for I have been so lonely. Heaven bless the dear boy in his future!
Sunday, 19th.—Alone all day in my room, yet anything but lonely. Bright visions of usefulness have beenfloating round me. I consecrated myself anew to the accomplishment of a great idea. I tried to lecture for an hour to an imaginary audience; striving to prepare for work by seeking expression for my thoughts.
I would I were not so exclusively a doer; speech seems essential to the reformer, but mine is at present a very stammering, childish utterance.
26th.—Went to church. Mr. Hogarth said some true things. He drew our thoughts to the reformers of old, with their sublime trust in the Most High. With a strange feeling of pleasure I claimed kindred with Asa, King of Judah, who broke the idols of the people and overcame the hosts of the Ethiopians.
November 30.—Our evening lecture broke up in a political Hurrah! for a Whig orator and John Van Buren were both speaking in the town, and the students rushed to attend the political meetings. I again discussed the subject with Dr. Le Ford; he justifying himself enthusiastically for being a Whig. He talked well, but I grew tired of those old expediences.
By this time the genuine character of my medical studies was fully established.
Had I been at leisure to seek social acquaintance, I might have been cordially welcomed. But my time was anxiously and engrossingly occupied with studies and the approaching examinations. I lived in my room and my college, and the outside world made little impression on me.
December 22.—The deepest snow I have seen for years. It was as much as I could do to walk to college; but all was pleasant, the class seem so very friendly. One setme a chair, another spoke so pleasantly, and I had several little friendly chats. How little they know my sensitiveness to these trifling tokens! The unusual weather, an alarm of fire, Dr. Webster’s arrival, were so many points for sociability.December 31.—The New Year’s Eve. Alone, as usual, I spent the day; at night, as I watched the last moments of the year slowly depart, a deep solemnity came over me—a hopeless sorrow for poor humanity. I seemed to hear the heavy resounding bell of time, tolling mournfully the dying year, whilst angels with covered faces, and forms that bent with sorrow, waited to receive the finishing scroll of the world’s existence, that the fearful record guarded in darkness and silence might at last be unrolled in the terrible light of eternity!January 1.—Stayed quietly in my room, whilst the merry sleigh-bells and gay voices rang without.11th.—I called to see the pretty blind girl operated on this morning; she was all alone in the hotel, her friends far away. Poor child! she has no protector, within or without; she asked me who the student was that brought her home, when college would be out, &c.; her simple heart and idle fancy are soon caught. Such are the women I long to surround with my stronger arm. Alas! how almost hopeless does the task seem! But God is omnipotent.January 19.—Dear M.,—I sit down to try and quiet myself by writing to you for this morning. I, as first on the list of candidates, passed through the usual examinations, presented my certificates, received the testimony of satisfaction from the faculty, whose recommendation will procure me the diploma next Tuesday. Now, though the examinations were not very formidable, still the anxiety and effort were as great as if everything were at stake, and when I came from the room andjoined the other candidates who were anxiously awaiting their turn, my face burned, my whole being was excited, but a great load was lifted from my mind. The students received me with applause—they all seem to like me, and I believe I shall receive my degree with their united approval; a generous and chivalric feeling having conquered any little feelings of jealousy. I often feel when I am with them how beautiful the relations of man and woman might be under a truer development of character, in nobler circumstances. I do not know the moral character of any one of our students, for I have no genius for hunting up the darker parts of a person’s soul; but I know that Geneva is a very immoral place, the lower classes of women being often worthless, the higher ones fastidious and exclusive, so that there is no healthy blending of the sexes. But notwithstanding the bad associations in which they may have been brought up, I have never had any difficulty in giving the right tone to our intercourse. I am more convinced than ever that Fourier is right in placing this matter in the hands of women, and my hope rises when I find that the inner heart of the human being may still remain pure, notwithstanding some corruption of the outer coverings. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how deep this matter of licentiousness has gradually sunk into my soul, and that the determination to wage a war of extermination with it strengthens continually, and the hope of gaining power and experience to do it worthily is one of my strongest supports in action. So help me God, I will not be blind, indifferent, or stupid in relation to this matter, as are most women. I feel specially called to act in this reform when I have gained wisdom for the task; the world can never be redeemed till this central relation of life is placed on a truer footing.But I meant to talk to you about the cholera. Ourphysicians confessedly cannot cure it. The Professor who lectured upon it yesterday commenced: ‘Gentlemen, I wish I could tell you how to cure the cholera, but under all modes of treatment the mortality seems to be the same; however, I will tell you something of the disease, and what I would do if called to a case.’
December 22.—The deepest snow I have seen for years. It was as much as I could do to walk to college; but all was pleasant, the class seem so very friendly. One setme a chair, another spoke so pleasantly, and I had several little friendly chats. How little they know my sensitiveness to these trifling tokens! The unusual weather, an alarm of fire, Dr. Webster’s arrival, were so many points for sociability.
December 31.—The New Year’s Eve. Alone, as usual, I spent the day; at night, as I watched the last moments of the year slowly depart, a deep solemnity came over me—a hopeless sorrow for poor humanity. I seemed to hear the heavy resounding bell of time, tolling mournfully the dying year, whilst angels with covered faces, and forms that bent with sorrow, waited to receive the finishing scroll of the world’s existence, that the fearful record guarded in darkness and silence might at last be unrolled in the terrible light of eternity!
January 1.—Stayed quietly in my room, whilst the merry sleigh-bells and gay voices rang without.
11th.—I called to see the pretty blind girl operated on this morning; she was all alone in the hotel, her friends far away. Poor child! she has no protector, within or without; she asked me who the student was that brought her home, when college would be out, &c.; her simple heart and idle fancy are soon caught. Such are the women I long to surround with my stronger arm. Alas! how almost hopeless does the task seem! But God is omnipotent.
January 19.—Dear M.,—I sit down to try and quiet myself by writing to you for this morning. I, as first on the list of candidates, passed through the usual examinations, presented my certificates, received the testimony of satisfaction from the faculty, whose recommendation will procure me the diploma next Tuesday. Now, though the examinations were not very formidable, still the anxiety and effort were as great as if everything were at stake, and when I came from the room andjoined the other candidates who were anxiously awaiting their turn, my face burned, my whole being was excited, but a great load was lifted from my mind. The students received me with applause—they all seem to like me, and I believe I shall receive my degree with their united approval; a generous and chivalric feeling having conquered any little feelings of jealousy. I often feel when I am with them how beautiful the relations of man and woman might be under a truer development of character, in nobler circumstances. I do not know the moral character of any one of our students, for I have no genius for hunting up the darker parts of a person’s soul; but I know that Geneva is a very immoral place, the lower classes of women being often worthless, the higher ones fastidious and exclusive, so that there is no healthy blending of the sexes. But notwithstanding the bad associations in which they may have been brought up, I have never had any difficulty in giving the right tone to our intercourse. I am more convinced than ever that Fourier is right in placing this matter in the hands of women, and my hope rises when I find that the inner heart of the human being may still remain pure, notwithstanding some corruption of the outer coverings. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how deep this matter of licentiousness has gradually sunk into my soul, and that the determination to wage a war of extermination with it strengthens continually, and the hope of gaining power and experience to do it worthily is one of my strongest supports in action. So help me God, I will not be blind, indifferent, or stupid in relation to this matter, as are most women. I feel specially called to act in this reform when I have gained wisdom for the task; the world can never be redeemed till this central relation of life is placed on a truer footing.
But I meant to talk to you about the cholera. Ourphysicians confessedly cannot cure it. The Professor who lectured upon it yesterday commenced: ‘Gentlemen, I wish I could tell you how to cure the cholera, but under all modes of treatment the mortality seems to be the same; however, I will tell you something of the disease, and what I would do if called to a case.’
The cordial relations with Professor and students continued. Throughout the examination time the most friendly interest was felt in my success by my fellow-students. One of my brothers came on to Geneva to attend my graduation. Being personally a stranger to the students, he was much amused by the free indications of friendly comradeship which he overheard. The ceremony of conferring the full and equal diploma of Doctor of Medicine upon a woman excited much interest in the neighbourhood. It was held in the large Presbyterian Church, which, with its ample galleries, was crowded in every part with spectators. The other students walked in procession from the college to the church, but I went up with my brother and took my seat in the side aisle.
January 22.—Our examinations came off successfully. Hurrah,’tis almost over!Tuesday, January 23, 1849.—The day, the grand day, is nearly finished; and now whilst visitors are dropping in I must record my first entrance into public life—’twas bright and beautiful and very gratifying. Great curiosity was felt. As I entered and sat in the church Igave one thought to friends, and then thought only of the Holy One. After the degree had been conferred on the others, I was called up alone to the platform. The President, in full academical costume, rose as I came on the stage, and, going through the usual formula of a short Latin address, presented me my diploma. I said: ‘Sir, I thank you; it shall be the effort of my life, with the help of the Most High, to shed honour on my diploma.’ The audience applauded, but their presence was little to me. I was filled with a sense of the grandeur of a holy life, with high resolves for the future. As I came down, George Field opened the door of the front row, and I was much touched by the graduates making room for me, and insisting that I should sit with them for the remainder of the exercises. Most gladly I obeyed the friendly invitation, feeling more thoroughly at home in the midst of these true-hearted young men than anywhere else in the town. I heard little of what was said; my whole soul was absorbed in heavenly communion. I felt the angels around me. Dr. Lee gave the valedictory address; he surprised me by the strong and beautiful way in which he alluded to the event. I felt encouraged, strengthened to be greatly good. As I stood at the door the faculty all most kindly wished me good-bye, and Dr. Hale and Bishop De Lancy shook hands and congratulated me. All the ladies collected in the entry, and let me pass between their ranks; and several spoke to me most kindly.For the next few hours, before I left by train, my room was thronged by visitors. I was glad of the sudden conversion thus shown, but my past experience had given me a useful and permanent lesson at the outset of life as to the very shallow nature of popularity.
January 22.—Our examinations came off successfully. Hurrah,’tis almost over!
Tuesday, January 23, 1849.—The day, the grand day, is nearly finished; and now whilst visitors are dropping in I must record my first entrance into public life—’twas bright and beautiful and very gratifying. Great curiosity was felt. As I entered and sat in the church Igave one thought to friends, and then thought only of the Holy One. After the degree had been conferred on the others, I was called up alone to the platform. The President, in full academical costume, rose as I came on the stage, and, going through the usual formula of a short Latin address, presented me my diploma. I said: ‘Sir, I thank you; it shall be the effort of my life, with the help of the Most High, to shed honour on my diploma.’ The audience applauded, but their presence was little to me. I was filled with a sense of the grandeur of a holy life, with high resolves for the future. As I came down, George Field opened the door of the front row, and I was much touched by the graduates making room for me, and insisting that I should sit with them for the remainder of the exercises. Most gladly I obeyed the friendly invitation, feeling more thoroughly at home in the midst of these true-hearted young men than anywhere else in the town. I heard little of what was said; my whole soul was absorbed in heavenly communion. I felt the angels around me. Dr. Lee gave the valedictory address; he surprised me by the strong and beautiful way in which he alluded to the event. I felt encouraged, strengthened to be greatly good. As I stood at the door the faculty all most kindly wished me good-bye, and Dr. Hale and Bishop De Lancy shook hands and congratulated me. All the ladies collected in the entry, and let me pass between their ranks; and several spoke to me most kindly.
For the next few hours, before I left by train, my room was thronged by visitors. I was glad of the sudden conversion thus shown, but my past experience had given me a useful and permanent lesson at the outset of life as to the very shallow nature of popularity.
The following letter, written by a younger brother who came to be with me on this importantoccasion, gives some interesting as well as amusing details of the event:—
Geneva: January 23, 1849.Beloved Relations.—The important crisis is past, the great occasion over, the object of so much and so justifiable anticipation has been attained, and proud as I always feel of the Blackwells, my familism never seemed to me so reasonable and so perfectly a matter of course as it did this morning, when, having escorted E. into the crowded church and taken my seat beside her, we learned from the music that the graduating class, headed by the dean, trustees, faculty, &c., were marching in solemn conclave into the aisle. I found E. well and in good spirits, as you may suppose. Monday morning E. and I went to the college, where she underwent a second examination, as did also the other members of the graduating class, from the curators of the university, no others but themselves, the class, and the faculty being admitted. From this, as from the former one, our Sis came off with flying colours and the reputation of being altogether the leader of the class. In the afternoon they were successively called upon to read from their theses, and to this I was admitted; but Elizabeth’s being in Buffalo to be printed, she could not be called upon. The Professor and students all seem to feel most kindly and warmly friendly. While I sat by the stove on Monday morning at the college whilst the graduating class were undergoing their examination below, the other students, scarcely any of them being acquainted with my personality, conversed freely about matters and things, and of course about Elizabeth. ‘Well, boys,’ one would say, ‘our Elib. feels first-rate this morning. Do you notice how pleased she looks?’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ replied another, ‘and I think she well may after the examination she passed yesterday.’ ‘So Lizzie will get her diplomaafter all,’ said a third. ‘If any member of the class gets one,sheis sure of it,’ said a fourth. Then all agreed that ‘our Elib.’ was ‘a great girl,’ and in short I found that she was a universal favourite with both professors and students. Nothing could be more cordial than the former are, and several are very gentlemanly and intelligent men indeed, and I formed some pleasant acquaintances among them.On the morning of the Commencement little Dr. Webster wasin his glory; he is a warm supporter of Elizabeth and likes a fuss, and nothing could exceed his delight when he found that the whole country round was sending in large numbers of people, and that all the ladies of Geneva were turning outen masseto see a lady receive a medical diploma. At ten o’clocka.m.the students met at the college and marched in procession with music to the Literary College, where they were headed by the Bishop of New York, Dr. Hale, the dean, and the curators, the faculty, &c. Dr. Webster was very anxious that E. should march in procession, and sent down two messages to that effect; but E. very properly refused. About half-past ten o’clock Elizabeth and I walked up to the church—she was very nicely dressed in her black brocaded silk gown,invisibly greengloves, black silk stockings, &c. As we ascended the college steps, Dr. Webster met Eliz. and again urged the request, whereupon she told him peremptorily that ‘it wouldn’t be ladylike.’ ‘Wouldn’t it indeed? Why, no, I forgot—I suppose it wouldn’t,’ said the little Doctor, evidently struck for the first time with the idea. So it was arranged that Eliz. and I should sit down at the entrance of the left aisle and join the procession as it came up, and we then walked in and sat down. We found the church, galleries and all,crowded with ladies, they only having been as yet admitted; and of course when we came in therewas a general stir and murmur, and everybody turned to look at us. By the time the procession came up, all the pews, except those reserved for students, were filled, and the gentlemen had to pour in afterwards and take the aisles, &c. When the procession entered, Mr. Field, a very pleasant, gentlemanly fellow-graduate, offered his arm, and all the class took their seats together in front of the stage. After a short discourse by Dr. Hale, the President, the diplomas were conferred—four being called up at a time—and, ascending the steps to the platform, the President, addressed them in a Latin formula, taking off his hat, but remaining seated, and so handed them their diplomas, which they received with a bow and retired. Elizabeth was left to the last and called up alone. The President taking off his hat, rose, and addressing her in the same formula, substitutingDominaforDomine, presented her the diploma, whereupon our Sis, who had walked up and stood before him with much dignity, bowed and half turned to retire, but suddenly turning back replied: ‘Sir, I thank you; by the help of the Most High it shall be the effort of my life to shed honour upon your diploma;’ whereupon she bowed and the President bowed, the audience gave manifestations of applause, little Dr. Webster rubbed his hands, the learned curators and faculty nodded grave approbation at each other upon the platform, and our Sis, descending the steps, took her seat with her fellow-physicians in front. Now walks up into the pulpit Professor Lee, with a large manuscript and a solemn air, and commences his address to the graduates. It was on the whole good; he gave it pretty strong to Homœopathists, Hydropathists, Mesmerists, Thompsonians, &c., and gave the ladies of the audience quite a lecture for their encouragement and circulation of quack medicines, informing them that they had better studya little the principles of medicine before attempting to practise what they were so profoundly ignorant about. At the close he alluded to the novel proceeding which they had taken, and the censure or imitation which it would necessarily create. He justified the proceeding, and passed a most gratifying and enthusiastic encomium on the result of the experiment in the case of Eliz. He pronounced her theleaderof her class; stated that she had passed through a thorough coursein every department, slighting none; that she had profited to the very utmost by all the advantages of the institution, and by her ladylike and dignified deportment had proved that the strongest intellect and nerve and the most untiring perseverance were compatible with the softest attributes of feminine delicacy and grace, &c., to all which the students manifest by decided attempts at applause their entire concurrence. As the audience passed out the Bishop came up with Dr. Hale, requested an introduction, and spoke very pleasantly, congratulating her on her course, to the great astonishment of the conservatives. As we walked out of the church we found that almost all the ladies had stopped outside, and as we appeared, opened their ranks and let us pass, regarding E. with very friendly countenances. Most of E.’s time was taken up till our departure next day at half-past one o’clock in receiving calls from her few friends.
Geneva: January 23, 1849.
Beloved Relations.—The important crisis is past, the great occasion over, the object of so much and so justifiable anticipation has been attained, and proud as I always feel of the Blackwells, my familism never seemed to me so reasonable and so perfectly a matter of course as it did this morning, when, having escorted E. into the crowded church and taken my seat beside her, we learned from the music that the graduating class, headed by the dean, trustees, faculty, &c., were marching in solemn conclave into the aisle. I found E. well and in good spirits, as you may suppose. Monday morning E. and I went to the college, where she underwent a second examination, as did also the other members of the graduating class, from the curators of the university, no others but themselves, the class, and the faculty being admitted. From this, as from the former one, our Sis came off with flying colours and the reputation of being altogether the leader of the class. In the afternoon they were successively called upon to read from their theses, and to this I was admitted; but Elizabeth’s being in Buffalo to be printed, she could not be called upon. The Professor and students all seem to feel most kindly and warmly friendly. While I sat by the stove on Monday morning at the college whilst the graduating class were undergoing their examination below, the other students, scarcely any of them being acquainted with my personality, conversed freely about matters and things, and of course about Elizabeth. ‘Well, boys,’ one would say, ‘our Elib. feels first-rate this morning. Do you notice how pleased she looks?’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ replied another, ‘and I think she well may after the examination she passed yesterday.’ ‘So Lizzie will get her diplomaafter all,’ said a third. ‘If any member of the class gets one,sheis sure of it,’ said a fourth. Then all agreed that ‘our Elib.’ was ‘a great girl,’ and in short I found that she was a universal favourite with both professors and students. Nothing could be more cordial than the former are, and several are very gentlemanly and intelligent men indeed, and I formed some pleasant acquaintances among them.
On the morning of the Commencement little Dr. Webster wasin his glory; he is a warm supporter of Elizabeth and likes a fuss, and nothing could exceed his delight when he found that the whole country round was sending in large numbers of people, and that all the ladies of Geneva were turning outen masseto see a lady receive a medical diploma. At ten o’clocka.m.the students met at the college and marched in procession with music to the Literary College, where they were headed by the Bishop of New York, Dr. Hale, the dean, and the curators, the faculty, &c. Dr. Webster was very anxious that E. should march in procession, and sent down two messages to that effect; but E. very properly refused. About half-past ten o’clock Elizabeth and I walked up to the church—she was very nicely dressed in her black brocaded silk gown,invisibly greengloves, black silk stockings, &c. As we ascended the college steps, Dr. Webster met Eliz. and again urged the request, whereupon she told him peremptorily that ‘it wouldn’t be ladylike.’ ‘Wouldn’t it indeed? Why, no, I forgot—I suppose it wouldn’t,’ said the little Doctor, evidently struck for the first time with the idea. So it was arranged that Eliz. and I should sit down at the entrance of the left aisle and join the procession as it came up, and we then walked in and sat down. We found the church, galleries and all,crowded with ladies, they only having been as yet admitted; and of course when we came in therewas a general stir and murmur, and everybody turned to look at us. By the time the procession came up, all the pews, except those reserved for students, were filled, and the gentlemen had to pour in afterwards and take the aisles, &c. When the procession entered, Mr. Field, a very pleasant, gentlemanly fellow-graduate, offered his arm, and all the class took their seats together in front of the stage. After a short discourse by Dr. Hale, the President, the diplomas were conferred—four being called up at a time—and, ascending the steps to the platform, the President, addressed them in a Latin formula, taking off his hat, but remaining seated, and so handed them their diplomas, which they received with a bow and retired. Elizabeth was left to the last and called up alone. The President taking off his hat, rose, and addressing her in the same formula, substitutingDominaforDomine, presented her the diploma, whereupon our Sis, who had walked up and stood before him with much dignity, bowed and half turned to retire, but suddenly turning back replied: ‘Sir, I thank you; by the help of the Most High it shall be the effort of my life to shed honour upon your diploma;’ whereupon she bowed and the President bowed, the audience gave manifestations of applause, little Dr. Webster rubbed his hands, the learned curators and faculty nodded grave approbation at each other upon the platform, and our Sis, descending the steps, took her seat with her fellow-physicians in front. Now walks up into the pulpit Professor Lee, with a large manuscript and a solemn air, and commences his address to the graduates. It was on the whole good; he gave it pretty strong to Homœopathists, Hydropathists, Mesmerists, Thompsonians, &c., and gave the ladies of the audience quite a lecture for their encouragement and circulation of quack medicines, informing them that they had better studya little the principles of medicine before attempting to practise what they were so profoundly ignorant about. At the close he alluded to the novel proceeding which they had taken, and the censure or imitation which it would necessarily create. He justified the proceeding, and passed a most gratifying and enthusiastic encomium on the result of the experiment in the case of Eliz. He pronounced her theleaderof her class; stated that she had passed through a thorough coursein every department, slighting none; that she had profited to the very utmost by all the advantages of the institution, and by her ladylike and dignified deportment had proved that the strongest intellect and nerve and the most untiring perseverance were compatible with the softest attributes of feminine delicacy and grace, &c., to all which the students manifest by decided attempts at applause their entire concurrence. As the audience passed out the Bishop came up with Dr. Hale, requested an introduction, and spoke very pleasantly, congratulating her on her course, to the great astonishment of the conservatives. As we walked out of the church we found that almost all the ladies had stopped outside, and as we appeared, opened their ranks and let us pass, regarding E. with very friendly countenances. Most of E.’s time was taken up till our departure next day at half-past one o’clock in receiving calls from her few friends.
The admission of a woman for the first time to a complete medical education and full equality in the privileges and the responsibilities of the profession produced a widespread effect in America. The public press very generally recorded the event, and expressed a favourable opinion of it.
Even in Europe some notice of it was taken, and ‘Punch’ showed his cordial appreciation by his amusing but friendly verses.[5]
I knew, however, that a first step only had been taken. Although popular sanction had been gained for the innovation, and a full recognised status secured, yet much more medical experience than I possessed was needed before the serious responsibilities of practice could be justly met. Returning, therefore, to Philadelphia, I endeavoured still to continue my studies. I was politely received by the heads of the profession in Philadelphia as a professional sister, and made the following notes in a journal of that date:—
March 6.—A morning of great gratification; welcomed cordially to the university, and afterwards heard Doctors Jackson, Hodges, Gibson, Chapman, and Horner lecture. Drs. Lee and Ford were with me, the former quite in spirits at my reception.March 10.—Heard Dr. Williamson lecture and received his ticket. Visited the Pennsylvania Hospital, Dr. Levich showing me over it; admired the gallery with its alcoves and the excellent ventilation. I heard Professor Agassiz last night. He has just commenced a course of lectures on the animal world; his manner was simple and earnest, and the principle he laid down will render his course of lectures very interesting if he develop them fully. I am also rubbing up my French, which may be very important to me.
March 6.—A morning of great gratification; welcomed cordially to the university, and afterwards heard Doctors Jackson, Hodges, Gibson, Chapman, and Horner lecture. Drs. Lee and Ford were with me, the former quite in spirits at my reception.
March 10.—Heard Dr. Williamson lecture and received his ticket. Visited the Pennsylvania Hospital, Dr. Levich showing me over it; admired the gallery with its alcoves and the excellent ventilation. I heard Professor Agassiz last night. He has just commenced a course of lectures on the animal world; his manner was simple and earnest, and the principle he laid down will render his course of lectures very interesting if he develop them fully. I am also rubbing up my French, which may be very important to me.
The following letter is characteristic of that period of life:—
February 25.My dear Mother.—You sent me a dear, good, welcome letter, and I kiss you heartily for all its affection and sympathy in my eccentric course. I did not miss out, either, any of the pious parts, but I do think, mother mine, that it is a little hard that you will not believe me when I tell you so seriously that my soul is doing first-rate. You urge upon me the importance of religion—why, bless the dear mother, what am I doing else but living religion all the time? Isn’t it my meat and my drink to do the good will of God; didn’t I use to sit in the lecture-room and send up a whole cannonade of little prayers; and didn’t a whole flood of answers come straight down from the throne of grace? And what am I doing now? Do you think I care about medicine? Nay, verily, it’s just to kill the devil, whom I hate so heartily—that’s the fact, mother; and if that isn’t forming Christ in one, the hope of Glory, why, I don’t know what is. So pray comfort yourself, and have faith that such a ‘child of many prayers’ will be fixed up all straight at last.... I live in a good society, the fellowship of hard-workers, for however little the result of my actions may be, I have the strengthening conviction that my aim is right, and that I, too, am working after my little fashion for the redemption of mankind. I agree with you fully in distrusting the ‘Harbinger,’ and should certainly banish it from my centre table if I had risen to the dignity of possessing one. I dislike their discussions, and their way of discussing some subjects. I think them calculated to do a great deal of mischief, and am only consoled by the reflection that few people read them. I go in whole-souledly for the Divine marriage institution, and shall always support it by precept, and as soon as I get the chance by example too, and all those who would upset itI consider fools and infidels. I think Associationists too often a very poor set of people, and if they would commence by reforming themselves, and let the Almighty take care of the world, I think they would be much better employed. As to the infidel French philosophy you talk of, it is just twaddle, which I should instantly reject if anybody were to stuff it into me. I am now longing to be at work abroad, where I might spend my time much more profitably—but I do want greatly to see you all again. How long it is since I was at home!—more than five years, I think. I cannot consent to become a stranger to theGeschwistern, and W. and E. & E. seem almost unknown. Good-bye, dear mother. I shall see you soon, and then you will be able to read me sermons to your heart’s content.—Your M. D.
February 25.
My dear Mother.—You sent me a dear, good, welcome letter, and I kiss you heartily for all its affection and sympathy in my eccentric course. I did not miss out, either, any of the pious parts, but I do think, mother mine, that it is a little hard that you will not believe me when I tell you so seriously that my soul is doing first-rate. You urge upon me the importance of religion—why, bless the dear mother, what am I doing else but living religion all the time? Isn’t it my meat and my drink to do the good will of God; didn’t I use to sit in the lecture-room and send up a whole cannonade of little prayers; and didn’t a whole flood of answers come straight down from the throne of grace? And what am I doing now? Do you think I care about medicine? Nay, verily, it’s just to kill the devil, whom I hate so heartily—that’s the fact, mother; and if that isn’t forming Christ in one, the hope of Glory, why, I don’t know what is. So pray comfort yourself, and have faith that such a ‘child of many prayers’ will be fixed up all straight at last.... I live in a good society, the fellowship of hard-workers, for however little the result of my actions may be, I have the strengthening conviction that my aim is right, and that I, too, am working after my little fashion for the redemption of mankind. I agree with you fully in distrusting the ‘Harbinger,’ and should certainly banish it from my centre table if I had risen to the dignity of possessing one. I dislike their discussions, and their way of discussing some subjects. I think them calculated to do a great deal of mischief, and am only consoled by the reflection that few people read them. I go in whole-souledly for the Divine marriage institution, and shall always support it by precept, and as soon as I get the chance by example too, and all those who would upset itI consider fools and infidels. I think Associationists too often a very poor set of people, and if they would commence by reforming themselves, and let the Almighty take care of the world, I think they would be much better employed. As to the infidel French philosophy you talk of, it is just twaddle, which I should instantly reject if anybody were to stuff it into me. I am now longing to be at work abroad, where I might spend my time much more profitably—but I do want greatly to see you all again. How long it is since I was at home!—more than five years, I think. I cannot consent to become a stranger to theGeschwistern, and W. and E. & E. seem almost unknown. Good-bye, dear mother. I shall see you soon, and then you will be able to read me sermons to your heart’s content.—Your M. D.
I felt, however, keenly the need of much wider opportunities for study than were open to women in America. Whilst considering this problem I received an invitation from one of my cousins, then visiting America, to return with him to England, and endeavour to spend some time in European study before engaging in practice in America. This valuable offer was joyfully accepted, and I prepared for a journey to Europe, first of all paying a short farewell visit to my family in Cincinnati.
April 5.—How kind and good and glad to see me they all were! I walked out with S. and met them all. G. had quite grown out of my knowledge. I am very glad to have spent this fortnight at home. We had general and private talks without end.April 7.—They all came down to see me off. Theystood on the adjoining boat as we sailed away up the river, mother leaning on S., the three sisters on one side, H. and G. on the other, all hearts in sympathy. I could not keep down the tears as I caught the last glimpse of those dear, true ones.
April 5.—How kind and good and glad to see me they all were! I walked out with S. and met them all. G. had quite grown out of my knowledge. I am very glad to have spent this fortnight at home. We had general and private talks without end.
April 7.—They all came down to see me off. Theystood on the adjoining boat as we sailed away up the river, mother leaning on S., the three sisters on one side, H. and G. on the other, all hearts in sympathy. I could not keep down the tears as I caught the last glimpse of those dear, true ones.
Travelling East, I joined my cousin in Boston, whence we sailed for Liverpool.
April 18.—Dear Mr. Channing was with me till I left. His medical uncle, Dr. Channing, also came to see me. I never met my old friend more fully; he regretted deeply this flying visit, which disappointed him in the talks he had planned. Beautiful Boston Bay vanished in the distance. America, that land of memories, was left far behind. I took to my berth and lay there in misery five days and nights. How I loathe the ship!
April 18.—Dear Mr. Channing was with me till I left. His medical uncle, Dr. Channing, also came to see me. I never met my old friend more fully; he regretted deeply this flying visit, which disappointed him in the talks he had planned. Beautiful Boston Bay vanished in the distance. America, that land of memories, was left far behind. I took to my berth and lay there in misery five days and nights. How I loathe the ship!