It is hardly worth while to discuss the early part of the letter, as the second paragraph sufficiently disposes of the first. After saying that women are ‘sexually, constitutionally, and mentally unfitted for hard and incessant toil,’ Dr. Bennet goes on to propose to make over to them as their sole share of the medical profession what he himself well describes as its ‘most arduous, most wearing and most unremunerative duties.’ In the last adjective seems to lie the whole suitability of the division of labour according to the writer’s view. He evidently thinks that women’s capabilities are nicely graduated to fit half-guinea or guinea midwifery cases,‘ and that all patients paying a larger sum of necessity need the superior powers of the ‘male mind of the Caucasian race.’ Let whatever is well paid be left to the man; then chivalrously abandon the ‘badly remunerated’ work to the women. This is the genuine view of a trades-unionist. It is well for once to see it candidly stated. As I trust the majority of medical men would be ashamed of avowing such a principle, and as I am sure it would be indignantly disallowed by the general public, I do not care to say more on this point.
But when Dr. Bennet proceeds to dogmatise about what he calls our claim to ‘mental equality,’ he comes to a different and much more important question. I for one do not care in the least either to claim or disown such equality, nor do I see that it is at all essential to the real question at issue. Allow me to state in a few words the position that I and, as I believe, most of my fellow-students take. We say to the authorities of the medical profession,—‘State clearly what attainments you consider necessary for a medical practitioner; fix your standard where you please, but define it plainly; put no obstacles in our way; either afford us access to the ordinary means of medical education, or do not exact that we shall use your special methods; in either case subject us ultimately to exactly the ordinary examinations and tests, and, if we fail to acquit ourselves as well as your average students, reject us; if, on the contrary, in spite of all difficulties, we reach your standard, and fulfil all your requirements, the question of ‘mental equality’ is practically settled, so far as it concerns our case; give us then the ordinary medical licence or diploma, and leave the question of our ultimate success or failure in practice to be decided by ourselves and the public.’ This is our position, and I appeal, not to the chivalry, but to the justice of the medical profession, to show us that it is untenable, or else to concede it at once.
I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
Sophia Jex-Blake.
Edinburgh, June 21st.”[[68]]
Nothing conciliatory here: no appeal for help for “the wee bit thing,”—the appeal that some men in those days used to find so disarming: nothing even in the spirit of the “Now remember, Daddy dear,” of those delightful controversial letters of her girlhood. It is a fair field and no favour with a vengeance now.
Possibly she might have shortened the battle if she had adopted a more conciliatory attitude. One might say the same of many of the martyrs. Had she done so, it would have meant a smaller battle,—a victory far more limited in its results. If a new move is being effectively made, it is almost always overdone. That is in the scheme of things. If there were not faults on both sides, there would be no dramatic action,—no “story”; and the world would go on its sleepy way, and pay no attention. “Individuals, feeling strongly, while on the one hand they are incidentally faulty in mode or language, are still peculiarly effective.... The very faults of an individual excite attention; he loses, but his cause (if good, and he powerful-minded) gains. This is the way of things; we promote truth by a self-sacrifice.”
Here then were the opposing forces, duly ranged against each other. One can almost imagine the move and countermove that were bound to ensue. And we must not forget the element furnished by the great mass of the students—though there were “individuals” here, too, of course—on the look out for mischief and fun, rejoicing in a row, ready “to follow a beck” as that wise Heron Watson had said.