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 diploma after all,’ said a third. ‘If any member of the class gets one, she is 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 was in 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 out en masse to see a lady receive a medical diploma. At ten o’clock a.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 green gloves, 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 there was 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, substituting Domina for Domine, 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 study a 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 the leader of her class; stated that she had passed through a thorough course in 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 it I 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 the Geschwistern, 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.