CHAPTER XIV
Attends the medical course at Cleveland, learning English at the same time—Is befriended by the Dean, Dr. John J. Delamater, and by Mrs. Caroline M. Severance—Some professors and students object to women as students—Students petition faculty to exclude women—Petition by Harvard medical students against admission of Dr. Harriot K. Hunt to lectures in 1851—No minister would offer prayer at early Commencements of Female Medical College of Pennsylvania—Philadelphia County Medical Society not only refused to admit women as members but issued an edict of excommunication against any of its members who should teach in the woman’s medical college, or who should consult with women physicians or even with the male teachers of the medical women—Edict approved by Pennsylvania State Medical Society—Mrs. Mary A. Livermore witnesses on Chestnut St., Philadelphia, male students mobbing women students and pelting them with mud—Similar mobbing and pelting with mud of women medical students at the gates of the University of Edinburgh—Dr. Blackwell writes she is obliged to close her dispensary for lack of funds and assistance—Marie and her roommate ostracized at the table and in the parlor by the other boarders. (Twenty-five years of age: 1854.)
I do not believe that many begin the study of medicine with so light a purse and so heavy a heart as did I. My heart was heavy for the reason that I did not know a single sentence of English. All of my study with Dr. Blackwell had been like raindrops falling upon stone; I had profited nothing.
The lectures I did not care for, since there was more need of my studying English than medicine, but the subjects were well known to me, and I therefore reasoned that by hearing familiar things treated of in English, I must learn the language—and the logic held good.
I have already told you that the faculty had agreed to give me credit for my lecture fees. Dr. Blackwell had written also to a lady in Cleveland, who had called upon her some time before in the capacity of president of a Physiological Society which, among other good things, had established a small fund for the assistance of women desirous of studying medicine. This lady (Mrs. Caroline M. Severance) replied in the most friendly manner, saying that I might come directly to her house, and that she would see that my board for the winter was secured by the Physiological Society over which she presided.
The journey to Cleveland was a silent but a pleasant one. Through a mishap, I arrived on Saturday night instead of in the morning, and being unwilling to disturb Mrs. Severance at so late an hour, I went first to a hotel. But what trials I had there! No one could understand me, until at last I wrote on a slate my own name and that of Mrs. Severance, with the words, “A carriage” and “to-morrow.” From this, the people inferred that I wished to stay at the hotel all night and to have a carriage to take me to Mrs. Severance’s the next day, as was the case. A waiter took my carpet-bag and conducted me to a room. I could not understand his directions to the supper-room, neither could I make him understand that I wanted some supper in my own room; and the consequence was that I went to bed hungry, having eaten nothing all day but a little bread and an apple for luncheon.
As soon as I was dressed the next morning, I rang the bell furiously, and on the appearance of the waiter, exclaimed, “Beefsteak!” This time he comprehended me, and went laughingly away to bring me a good breakfast. I often saw the same waiter afterwards at the hotel, and he never saw me without laughing and exclaiming, “Beefsteak!”
In the course of the forenoon, I was taken in a carriage to the house of Mrs. Severance, but the family was not at home. I returned to the hotel somewhat disheartened and disappointed. Although I should have supposed that death was not far off if some disappointment had not happened to me when I least expected it, yet this persistent going wrong of everything in Cleveland was really rather dispiriting. But a bright star soon broke through the clouds in the shape of Mr. Severance, who came into the parlor directly after dinner, calling for me in so easy and so cordial a manner that I forgot everything and was perfectly happy.
This feeling, however, lasted only until I reached the house. I found four fine children, all full of childish curiosity to hear me talk, but who, as soon as they found that I could not make myself understood by them, looked on me with that sort of contempt peculiar to children when they discover that a person cannot do as much as they themselves can. Mr. Severance, too, was expecting to find me accomplished in music “like all Germans,” and had to learn that I had neither voice nor ear for the art. Mrs. Severance understood a little German, yet not half enough to gain any idea of how much or how little I was capable of doing, and therefore looked upon me with a sort of uncertainty as to what was my real capacity. This position was more provoking than painful—there was even something ludicrous in it, and when not annoyed, I often went into my room to indulge in a hearty laugh by myself.
[Mrs. Severance tells of this first meeting:
I had gone to take her to our home in response to a letter from Dr. Blackwell commending her to our care. The letter had come late the night before, and I had not realized the forlornness to her of being in a hotel over night in a strange city.
How condemned I felt for this thoughtlessness as I looked into the tearful eyes of the lonely foreigner who did not feel at home in English, and who had found no one to greet her in her own language until I ventured my crude German! Her eyes kindled into smiles at that and our years of close friendship were begun.]
I met with a most cordial reception in the college. The dean (Dr. John J. Delamater) received me like a father, and from the first day I felt perfectly at home. All was going on well. I had a home at Mrs. Severance’s, and despite my mutilated English I found many friends in the college, when suddenly circumstances changed everything.
Some changes occurred in Mr. Severance’s business and he was forced in consequence to give up housekeeping. At that time I did not know that the Physiological Society was ready to lend me money, and I was therefore in great distress.
I never experienced so bitter a day as that on which Mrs. Severance told me that I could stay with her no longer. It was but five weeks after my arrival, and I was not able to make myself understood in the English language, which was like chaos to me. On the same day I well remember that for the first time in my life I made an unsuccessful attempt to borrow money; and because it was the first and the last time, it was the more painful to me to be refused. I envied the dog that lived and was happy without troubling his brain; I envied the kitchen-maid who did her work mechanically and seemed to enjoy life far more than those fitted by nature for something higher.
Mrs. Severance secured a boarding place for me for the rest of the winter and paid my board, amounting to thirty-three dollars, from the funds of the society. I lived quietly by myself; studied six hours daily at home, with four dictionaries by me; attended six lectures a day, and went in the evening for three hours to the dissecting rooms.
[Dr. Blackwell, again writing to her sister Emily on November 13th, says: A pleasant circumstance occurred to my German, Dr. Zakrzewska. I arranged a Cleveland course for her, and she entered two weeks ago. She met a very friendly reception, and found that Dr. Kirtland is in correspondence with Professor Müller of Berlin, and he had mentioned her in some of his letters in such high terms that the faculty told her that if she would qualify herself for examination in surgery and chemistry and write an English thesis, they would graduate her at the end of this term. Of course, she is studying with might and main, and will, I have no doubt, succeed; so we may reckon on a little group of three next year. That will be quite encouraging.]
I never conversed with any one at the boarding house, nor even asked for anything at the table, but was supplied like a mute. This silence was fruitful to me. About New Year, I ventured to make my English audible; when, lo! every one understood me perfectly. From this time forward, I sought to make acquaintances, to the especial delight of good old Dr. Delamater who had firmly believed that I was committing gradual suicide.
My stay in that congenial family, the Severances, was meant to be only temporary, until a suitable boarding house could be obtained. Alas, nobody wanted to take a “female medical student!” For several weeks, Mrs. Severance hunted for such a place until she found a New England woman, Mrs. Shepard, who was willing to brave the criticism of neighborhood and church connections and take me and another female medical student who was in the same dilemma to board for the winter, the Association mentioned making themselves responsible for the expense.[3]
Being now well-housed, we trotted unconcernedly by neighbors staring from behind half-shut blinds, twice a day, to and from our college. And there being four women among a couple of hundred young men, we had our box seat to ourselves, unmolested by the tobacco-chewing and spitting Æsculapians in embryo. My three companions were Mrs. Chadwick who was my roommate, Miss Cordelia A. Greene, now practicing in her own institution in Castile, N. Y., and Miss Elizabeth Grissell, now a practicing physician in Salem, Ohio.[4]
In the college, we had nothing of which we could complain; the young men did not like our presence; some of the professors acted as if we did not exist, while others favored us in many ways; and one, the most eminent, Dr. Delamater, offered to be my preceptor and gave me good practical advantages.
On the whole, life was made quite pleasant in the college, although we were told that a strong petition was circulated by the male students to exclude women after that winter’s term. The faculty refused to consent to this request because they had given the four women the promise of an opportunity to graduate. However, the assurance was given to the men that the college would not again admit women, especially as the faculty considered that the little Pennsylvania Medical College for Women was prospering and giving fully as good an education as the Western Reserve Medical College.
We did not see a copy of the petition of the men students, but as there was never any variety in the objections made to the study of medicine by women, it was undoubtedly similar to the one which the medical students at Harvard College presented against the admission of Dr. Harriot K. Hunt, in 1850, and which she published in Glances and Glimpses.
As it is interesting because showing the weakness of the forces which everywhere opposed us, I will cite it here.
After quoting a communication which approved of her conduct and disapproved of that of the men students, and which appeared in the Boston Evening Transcript, July 5, 1851, Dr. Hunt adds: “This article brought out the resolutions of the students which I had endeavored to obtain in vain.”
The Female Medical Pupil.—Mr. Editor: As an article, in some respects imaginative, appeared in the Transcript on Wednesday evening over the signature of E. D. L., who professes to be “well informed” respecting the application of a female to the Medical Lectures, and the “insubordination” with which the intelligence was received by the students, allow me to correct any erroneous impression by claiming space for an insertion of the following series of resolutions passed at a meeting of the medical class with but one dissenting vote, and afterwards respectfully presented to the Faculty of the Medical College.
Whereas, it has been ascertained that permission has been granted to a female to attend the Medical Lectures of the present winter, therefore,
Resolved, That we deem it proper both to testify our disapprobation of said measure, and to take such action thereon as may be necessary to preserve the dignity of the school, and our own self-respect.
Resolved, That no woman of true delicacy would be willing in the presence of men to listen to the discussion of the subjects that necessarily come under the consideration of the student of medicine.
Resolved, That we object to having the company of any female forced upon us, who is disposed to unsex herself, and to sacrifice her modesty, by appearing with men in the medical lecture room.
Resolved, That we are not opposed to allowing woman her rights, but do protest against her appearing in places where her presence is calculated to destroy our respect for the modesty and delicacy of her sex.
Resolved, That the medical professors be, and hereby are, respectfully entreated to do away forthwith with an innovation expressly at variance with the spirit of the introductory lecture, with our own feelings, and detrimental to the prosperity, if not to the very existence of the school.
Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be presented to the Medical Faculty.
Scalpel.
We women in Cleveland were fortunate that we had to contend only with ostracism and petitions, for in Philadelphia and in Edinburgh, women medical students suffered grievously at the hands of the male medical students, as well as from other groups in the community.
For instance, at the commencement exercises of the Pennsylvania Female Medical College, prayer was offered by a layman because no minister in Philadelphia could be found who would take part in the services.[5]
And the Philadelphia County Medical Society not only refused to admit women physicians as members, but, in 1859, it pronounced an edict of excommunication against any of its members who should teach in the Pennsylvania Female Medical College, or who should consult with women physicians or with the male teachers of the women. And this edict of excommunication was approved, in 1860, by the Pennsylvania State Medical Society. As a leading member of both societies, Dr. Atlee, expressed it, “By the rules of our medical association, I dare not consult with the most highly educated female physician, and yet I may consult with the most ignorant masculine ass in the medical profession.”
Again, in The Business Folio, Boston, March, 1895, Mrs. Mary A. Livermore tells of a personal observation which she made during the earlier days of this college. Speaking to a relative, she says:
Before you were born, and you are now nearly twenty-eight years old, my husband and myself went to Philadelphia to make your father and mother a visit.
One day, we were walking up Chestnut Street when suddenly we became aware that something unusual was the matter. Before us was a group of women hurrying along in great confusion; they were well dressed, but their clothing was then in a very dilapidated condition.
We wondered what had happened, and as we looked this way and that a chunk of mud flew by, perilously near my face, and hit one of the women who was then not far from us.
With a startled cry, the woman with the others ran into the wide-open doors of a large store. They were followed by a company of young men seemingly intent only upon reaching them. The proprietor and clerks sprang to the rescue of the young women, and, with the help of my husband and his brother, grabbed the unmannerly cubs by the napes of their necks and threw them into the street.
We then learned that the company of young women had entered one of the medical colleges in Philadelphia, and these young men from another college in another part of the city had determined that if they could prevent it no women should study medicine.
This Philadelphia episode suggests the mobbing and pelting with mud which Sophia Jex-Blake and her fellow women students received from the male medical students at the gates of the University of Edinburgh as late as 1870, but it lacks the compensating feature of the Edinburgh occurrence when “the decent male medical students” came to the rescue of the women and formed a protecting and chivalrous escort for them, continuing this gentlemanly course till the “rowdies” accepted the presence of women students. Though this “presence” was only short-lived.”[14]
Meanwhile, I exchanged letters pretty regularly With Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, telling her the details of my college life, and she telling me that she was obliged to close the little dispensary. One reason for this was the lack of funds to meet the expense, while another was the lack of such assistance as I had rendered, Dr. Emily Blackwell being in Europe, studying, and there being no other medical woman to avail herself of the opportunity for such practice. She also wrote me that the practice she sought increased but slowly while expenses were high, so she had decided to enter upon the new speculation of buying a house on Fifteenth Street and reducing her own expenses by sharing its rooms with friends.
The first three months of college life were rather dull for me, as my imperfect knowledge of the English language excluded me from taking part in the comradeship of the few male students who rather enjoyed the presence of the women, and who had taken no part in the petition of objection to us.
After college hours, my roommate and I spent our time chiefly in our room as the other boarders would retire as soon as we entered the parlor; and at table would politely but decidedly manifest their intention to ignore us. On Sundays, we went to “Meeting,” as it was called, sometimes under the auspices of our good hostess, Mrs. Shepard, who was a strict orthodox Presbyterian. More often, however, I went to a hall where a small society known as that of the Liberal Christians was addressed by Rev. A. D. Mayo. He was a humanitarian and belonged in the ranks of the Abolitionists. He was also interested in various other social reforms, among which was the Woman’s Rights movement.