Pioneer Work in Opening the Medical Profession to Women

CHAPTER I. Early Years

EARLY YEARS

1821

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Family Life in England—Walks around Bristol—May Missionary Meetings—A Vivid Reminiscence—Bristol Riots—Early Religious Impressions—Emigration to the United States—Schooldays in New York—Anti-slavery—Removal to Ohio—The Struggle of Life—Establishment of Boarding-school—The Wider Education of Women—Join the Episcopal Church—General Harrison’s Election—Transcendentalism—The Rev. W. H. Channing’s Congregation—Experiences in Henderson, Kentucky 1

CHAPTER II. Earning Money for Study

EARNING MONEY FOR STUDY

1845

The Medical Idea taking Shape—Lack of an Absorbing Object—Objection to falling in Love—Struggles with Disinclination to the Study of Medicine—The Moral Aspect of the Work conquers—Resolution to earn Money for Study—Journey to Asheville, N.C.—Life in Asheville—Journey to Charleston, S.C.—Teaching at Mrs. du Pré’s—Reading Medicine with Dr. S. H. Dickson—Sivori Concerts—Calhoun on States Rights—Dr. Warrington on Medical Study—Boarding-school Experiences—Summer at Aiken, S.C. 26

CHAPTER III. Study in America

STUDY IN AMERICA

1847

Searching for a College—Application to Colleges of Philadelphia and New York—Interviews with Professors—Anatomical Study with Dr. Allen—Lectures at Dr. Warrington’s—Application to other Schools—Joyful Result—Life at College—Residence in Blockley Almshouse—Graduation 58

CHAPTER IV. Study in Europe

STUDY IN EUROPE

1849

Glimpse of the Black Country—Visit to Medical Institutions of Birmingham—Stay in London—Fashionable Life—Visits: to Dr. Carpenter, to Professor Owen, to St. Thomas’s Hospital, to Dr. Wilkinson—Leave for Paris—Descriptive Letters—Interview with Lamartine—Interview with Police Official, with M. Louis—Difficulties to be overcome—Political Troubles in Paris—Entrance into La Maternité—Severe Life there—Friendship with the Interne—A Sortie and Hypnotic Séance—Serious Accident—Visit to Gräfenberg—Life there—First Patient—Study in London—Admission to St. Bartholomew’s—Visit to Rev. Dr. Leifchild—Hospital Experiences—Medical Scepticism awakens—Letter to Dr. S. H. Dickson—Social Relaxation—Woman’s Rights Movement in the United States—Visit to Miss Nightingale—Visit to Lady Byron—Opening of the Great Exhibition—Anxious Discussion as to remaining in England—Farewell Visits—Last Days in England 96

CHAPTER V. Practical Work in America

PRACTICAL WORK IN AMERICA

1851

Settlement in New York—First Medical Consultation—Lectures on the Physical Education of Girls—Formation of Independent Dispensary—Quaker Help—Incorporation of the New York Infirmary, 1854—Letters descriptive of Early Difficulties—Purchase of House—Adoption of Child—First Drawing-room Address—Sister resolves to study—Letters to her whilst in Europe—Amusing Experience with Dr. Simpson of Edinburgh—Joined by Dr. Emily Blackwell in New York 190

CHAPTER VI. England Revisited

ENGLAND REVISITED

1858

Letter from Paris—Acquaintance with Dr. Trélat of La Salpêtrière—Addresses given in England—Result of London Addresses—Circular for proposed Hospital—Letters from London—Registered as English Physician, 1859—Reasons for returning to New York—Work there continued—Civil War—Ladies’ Sanitary Aid Association established—Incidents of the War—Establishment of Infirmary Medical School—Letters from Miss Elizabeth Garrett—Sanitary Work of the New York Infirmary 213

CHAPTER VII. Return to England

RETURN TO ENGLAND

1869

The Social Science Congress of 1869—Medical Work—Health Work—Moral Work 241

APPENDIX 255

CHAPTER I

EARLY LIFE IN ENGLAND

1821

It is a great advantage to have been born one of a large family group of healthy, active children, surrounded by wholesome influences.

The natural and healthy discipline which children exercise upon one another, the variety of tastes and talents, the cheerful companionship, even the rivalries, misunderstandings, and reconciliations where free play is given to natural disposition, under wise but not too rigid oversight, form an excellent discipline for after-life.

Being the third daughter in a family of nine brothers and sisters, who grew up to adult life with strong ties of natural affection, I enjoyed this advantage.

My earliest recollections are connected with the house in Bristol, No. 1 Wilson Street, near Portman Square, to which the family removed from Counterslip, where I was born, when I was about three years old. My childish remembrances are chiefly associated with my elder sisters, for being born between two baby brothers, who both died in infancy, I naturally followed my sisters’ lead, and was allowed to be their playmate.

Our Wilson Street home had the advantage of possessing a garden behind it, containing fine trees; and also a large walled garden opposite to it, with fruit trees and many flowers and shrubs, which afforded us endless delight and helped to create an early love of Nature.

I cannot recall the sequel of incidents in this period of my life, for being so young when we moved to Wilson Street, the recollections of those early years are confused; but some things stand out, distinctly impressed on the memory.

My eldest sister had become possessed of a small telescope, and gazing through one of the garret windows, we thought we could spy the Duchess of Beaufort’s woods over the tops of the houses. There was a parapet running along the front of the house, and we were seized with a desire for a more extensive view through the precious telescope than the garret window afforded, so a petition for liberty to go on to the roof was sent to papa in our names by my lively eldest sister. The disappointing answer soon came:

Anna, Bessie, and Polly, Your request is mere folly, The leads are too high For those who can’t fly. If I let you go there, I suppose your next prayer Will be for a hop To the chimney top!

So I charge you three misses, Not to show your phizes On parapet wall, Or chimney so tall, But to keep on the earth, The place of your birth. ‘Even so,’ says papa. ‘Amen,’ says mama. ‘Be it so,’ says Aunt Bar.

The Aunt Barbara here referred to was a maiden sister of my father’s, a somewhat stern though upright ruler of our youngest days; but the dear father, with his warm affection, his sense of fun, and his talent for rhyming, represented a beneficent Providence to me from my earliest recollection.

Another very vivid remembrance of that first period of childhood remains. My father was an active member of the ‘Independent’ body, belonging to the Rev. Mr. Leifchild’s Bridge Street congregation, and the May missionary meetings were a great event to us children, for, taking lunch with us, we sometimes picnicked in the gallery of the selected chapel, and divided our time between listening to thrilling stories of the missionaries and more physical pleasures. A number of these rather jolly divines often dined at our house, and the dinner party of the ministers was one of the incidents of the May meetings. There was a certain Mr. Burnet of Cork, who used to keep the table in a roar. To be allowed to dine and listen at a side-table was indeed a treat. But on one occasion, my name, alas! was in the Black Book, for some childish misdemeanour—I forget what; but the punishment I well remember. I was sent up to the attics, instead of being allowed to join the dinner party. Upstairs in the dark I leaned over the banisters, watched the light stream out from the dining-room as the servants carried the dishes in and out, and listened to the cheerful buzz of voices and frequent peals of laughter as the door opened. I felt very miserable, with also a sense of guilt that I should have been so wicked as to let my name get into the Black Book, for I always accepted, without thought of resistance, the decrees of my superiors. The fact that those in authority were capable of injustice or stupidity was a perception of later growth.

The impression made by this little incident on a childish mind was curiously shown on my revisiting Bristol, after an absence of nearly forty years. Wishing to see the scene of my early childhood, I called at the Wilson Street house, and its occupants kindly allowed me to enter my old home, the home which I remembered as so large, but which then looked so small. All was changed. The pleasant walled-in garden across the street, with its fine fruit trees, where we played for hours together with a neighbour’s children, was turned into a carpenter’s yard. The long garden behind the house, with its fine trees, and stable opening into a back street, was built over; but as I stood in the hall and looked up, I suddenly seemed to see a little childish face peeping wistfully over the banisters, and the whole scene of that dining-room paradise, from which the child was banished, rose vividly before me.

But a stranger incident still occurred as I stood there. The sound of a latch-key was heard in the hall-door, and a figure, that I at once recognised as my father’s, in a white flannel suit, seemed to enter and look smilingly at me. It was only a momentary mental vision, but it was wonderfully vivid; and I then remembered what I had utterly forgotten—forgotten certainly for forty years—that our father would sometimes remain late at his sugar-house, and come home in the white flannel suit worn in the heated rooms of the refinery, letting himself into the house with a rather peculiar latch-key.

Far clearer and more varied recollections are, however, connected with the house in Nelson Street, to which we moved in 1824, and whence the family emigrated to New York in 1832.

This comfortable family home, made by throwing two houses together, with its walled-in courtyard leading to the sugar refinery and my father’s offices, was our town residence for eight very happy years. Here the group of brothers and sisters grew up together, taking daily walks with our governess into the lovely environs of the then small town. We became familiar with St. Vincent’s Rocks and the Hot Wells, with Clifton Down and Leigh Woods, which were not built on then. The Suspension Bridge across the Avon was a thing of the future, and Cook’s Folly stood far away on the wild Durdham Down. In another direction, Mother Pugsley’s field, with its healing spring, leading out of Kingsdown Parade, was a favourite walk—for passing down the fine avenue of elms we stood at the great iron gates of Sir Richard Vaughan’s place, to admire the peacocks, and then passed up the lane towards Redland, where violets grew on the grassy banks and natural curiosities could be collected. All these neighbourhoods were delightfully free and open. Our governess encouraged our natural tastes, and the children’s pennies were often expended in purchasing the landscape stones and Bristol diamonds offered for sale on Clifton Down. In still another direction, the ‘Brook,’ leading through pleasant fields to the distant Beaufort woods, had a never-ending charm. Daily, and often twice a day, the group of children with their governess wandered to these pleasant spots. In the summer time Weston-super-Mare and Clevedon gave endless seaside delights, and furnished a charming picture-gallery through all the subsequent wanderings of later life.

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