CHAPTER XXVII
Extracts from letters to her first Boston student, Dr. Lucy E. Sewall, now studying in Europe—Lectures to public on “Hospitals: their history, designs and needs.” (1863.)
The daughter of Samuel E. Sewall became an enthusiastic admirer of Dr. Zakrzewska during one of the visits which the latter made to Boston in the interest of the New York Infirmary, and a close friendship between them resulted. An amusing incident of their first meeting has been related in an earlier chapter.
This friendship led to Lucy E. Sewall’s decision to study medicine and she entered the New England Female Medical College as soon as Dr. Zakrzewska became connected with it, in 1859. She remained a student there during the entire three years that Dr. Zakrzewska continued on the faculty, being assistant student in the Clinical Department, and being graduated in March, 1862. Following the advice of Dr. Zakrzewska, she then went to Europe for clinical study and for the practical training which was denied her in her own country.
From the correspondence which ensued many interesting sidelights are thrown on Dr. Zakrzewska’s personality and activities during these days. Thus, she writes:
October 16, 1862.
Dear Lucy:
I suppose you want long letters and in order to meet this want I will write as often as I find time, so as to fill the sheet as I go along. After that forlorn day yesterday, I am established again as usual this morning at the table writing.
Now let me tell you that I consider you one of the greatest intriguants possible. You thought, I suppose, that you could catch two flies in one beating by providing me with inkstand and pens. Of course, I have to write if I have the materials; while the things will not get used up in so doing, and will even be ornamental next year after you have returned and we have an office together! But wait till you do come home, and then see whether your speculation turns out as you calculated.
I gave the match box and tumbler to Mr. and Mrs. Heinzen who were greatly pleased with the little memento. Now this is all for one morning, only let me assure you that you sha’n’t leave me again behind you; or if you desire to do so, you shall not see me when you start.
October 21.
I have had two letters now from Dr. Morton, the one I told you about and one other, dated September 24, in which she spoke of her safe arrival and of her terrible homesickness. She calls Paris a cold city. She likes England very much and wants to hear from you, all about yourself and your experiences.
... Minna writes pleasantly about her life and wants to hear from you, too. I suppose I will have to send her your letter when you send me one that I can send about.
... Dr. Cabot called here the other day. He was very pleasant and accepted all as very good—arrangements as well as physicians and students. I asked him about consultation in forceps cases. He said it was not necessary to call him for such cases, as forceps when skillfully applied were without danger to either mother or child. You see, he rightly supposes we use the forceps “skillfully.”
The student, Miss Cook, has left for the Philadelphia college. I really don’t know what else to write to you unless I tell you some of my domestic affairs, namely, that I got, all in all, eight barrels of pears and seven of apples; and I have any quantity of tomatoes pickled and barberry jelly made.... On the 12th of November, we shall have the Dress Party, which will be given by Miss Nichols in honor of Miss Sprague’s birthday.
Boston, Pleasant Street,
Saturday, November 29, at 9 P. M.I am in Miss G.’s (the matron of the hospital) room, which is my present abode during the nights. I have just arrived from the depot where I left Mrs. —— (one of her home patients) and Mrs. Heinzen, who are going to New York. The first goes to see her son who is going to the war, and the latter accompanies her for safety’s sake. They both return day after to-morrow.
Before starting for Roxbury, I read your letter to the whole company there. They all send love to you and say that it is Holiday when your letters arrive.... We read all your letters, even those to your father, and I assure you they are all much too short.
... Why don’t you tell me more about Miss B.’s nephew, or have you decided on a compromise? You remember that I don’t want you to marry a German, and your uncle forbids an Englishman; so you must try to find one who combines all the good points of German, English and American.
... I was very much amused at your descriptions of the English doctors. I hope they will be of use to you. What you say about Dr. —— and Dr. —— is, I am afraid, correct, for they have at times a special faculty for being haughty and making themselves as disagreeable as anybody can do. I should like to hear more about it because, from Mrs. ——’s expressions, I inferred the same. I am very sorry that she has left London. I know her; she spent an evening with me at the Infirmary and my acquaintance with her was interrupted by another matter which took my attention.
... What kind of a bonnet did you buy? And why did you not complete the last page of your letter by giving a description of it?
... There is no need to tell me not to forget to miss you. I am sure I never missed any person more than I do you. I almost had it in my heart to wish that you may not succeed in London and that you then make a visit to Paris during the rest of the winter, and then go along the River Seine and come home in June. I feel almost wicked to make you homesick yet certainly I do feel provoked when you say that you are not so; for I am homesick for you.
It is very strange how you have grown yourself into my heart. I never before have felt such strong attachment for a woman, that is, so “tenderly” strong. I have always appreciated and loved women more intellectually. But you are my child. And I am going to have the first grandbaby all to myself as my well-deserved property.
You see, I am not so very selfish. I want you to enjoy all happiness that exists for us poor mortals—which is by no means in the single life.
Roxbury, Attic Room, Southeast Corner,
Sunday Night, 10:30.I hope this is dated explanatorily enough to need no comments. But where under this wet heavens are you? We have plenty of water from above, have you still the same below you? I would almost envy you were I not so cosily covered.
Henceforth, I fear we will have to pity you on Sundays in that pious England. I can appreciate your loneliness, for I often have a taste of it here on Sabbath evenings. For in spite of all the liberality of our inmates, we have to be stupid Sunday nights to please them, and I am always thankful when the day is over.
Mr. Heinzen said to-day that I am a great talker, and he is not so very wrong, for it distresses me to see a whole company sitting together doing nothing, saying nothing, and thinking nothing, because it is Sunday and they can’t go to church, in order to hear nothing—but words and phrases.
I often think I will make these latter myself, using innocent subjects for the sake of conversation. The presence of people disturbs me and prevents my thinking deeply, so I talk out what comes along. Have you ever found me so very talkative—unless I am with people who don’t interest me very much above a certain degree, say one above zero?
I hope this letter and the one I wrote to Miss Morton will not be called belonging to this class. Still, I am writing to-night chiefly to let out some steam. Some people will not do this and therefore often burst when least desirable.
... My finger which became infected during the treatment of that little Mrs. —— is now progressing so that I do not fear future trouble. It has been the most curious development of pathological changes that you can imagine. I am sorry that you could not watch nature in a small trouble and see her action in repairing damages.
Be careful of yourself for you know that at the time when my finger became infected, it was apparently perfectly sound, yet there must have been some point of entrance for the infection which followed. I am glad that it proved to be so slight.
I have not been to see your father as I was so very busy, but I shall go there to-morrow unless the storm continues too severely.
Roxbury, December 28, 1862.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I shall not tell you any more that I miss you at any time, for I don’t, not a bit. On the contrary, I am glad that you are gone.
I just read this paragraph to our parlor assembly and they wanted to tear it up. Now, don’t you think that is quite a despotical sign of our regiment here? I am sure I don’t want to write anything else, for you shall not get too vain about yourself.
We, that is, myself and Mrs. —— and Miss Sprague, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Heinzen, feel quite proud of our little doctor in England, only we feel as if that little M.D. should write a little oftener.
... Mrs. W—— has a splendid little girl of nine and one-half pounds. She had a very hard time, thirty-six hours’ labor, and I finally delivered her with forceps, Miss Tyng officiating as assistant. Mother and child are doing well and send love to you.
Christmas was a very pleasant day and evening with us. We had the parlors trimmed beautifully with laurel and holly, and when I came home in the evening, I covered the chandeliers with wreaths.
Then we placed white cloths on the front parlor center table and on another small one, and set plates on them with German gingerbread and apples and nuts.
Returning from supper, we found large baskets and bundles which Santa Claus had brought to the room and left for me to distribute.
So after each one had appropriated a plate, I called out the names, and lots of handsome little things came out of the brown and white papers, by and by covering the tables completely, so that the room looked like a charming little fair, and we had ever so much fun, and many funny things, and I only wish that you had been here, too.
Now, tell me how you are getting on in London, how your health is, how much you are learning and how you spent Christmas.
I have been nonsensically busy, so much so that I am completely worn out, and to-day I proposed that I go to London to bring you back for the purpose of getting rested. Everything goes the same old, old way. Miss —— is with me but she stays in the same old place and, although I like her very much, yet there is no mutual sympathy between us.
Lucy, never marry a man with whom you do not agree on all points! I feel it more and more, the older I grow, that love grows stronger only towards those with whom we sympathize; and that we become more and more a burden to each other if we do not agree well. And although we may avoid quarreling yet coldness is sometimes harder to bear than an absolute quarrel. I feel all this with Miss ——, and yet she is far more agreeable to me than a good many other of my acquaintances. I really feel an attachment for her, perhaps for the very reason that I feel we will not be obliged to be always together.
Miss —— charged me with a great deal of love for you, and you may help yourself to as much as you want.... On the 20th, I am giving a lecture for our Hospital, at Chickering Hall, on the subject of “Hospitals.” I shall let you know how it comes off.... Write soon and put yourself into the letter, and I will send you back by the next mail.
Roxbury, January 25, 1863.
It is Sunday morning, and I am tired and worn out. I felt miserable all last week, so miserable that I had to give up my work and my lessons for the last three days and rest. Yesterday afternoon we all went to the minstrels, and I am the only one who got used up by it.
I have had a great deal of practice this winter, more than is good for me, yet I did not make so much money. People are all poor, everything being now so dear.
Nevertheless, I am satisfied with my affairs if I can only keep strong under the strain. My sister Anna is again quite sick, and Rosalie will therefore come to live with me in April. Minna had everything arranged to go to Paris in April or May, but now that gold gets higher every day, she thinks she must give it up for another year. Would it not be nice if she could arrive in Paris when you do? I wish gold would come down again so that could come about.
Now, a few words as to the talk in England about a medical college for women. Elizabeth Blackwell wrote to me about this as follows: “She may get a great deal of valuable knowledge there, but I can judge far better than she can of the value of their speeches. What they mean by a ‘college’ is a school for a better class of midwives. To the broad, true ground of admitting women to an equality in the profession, they are stubbornly opposed; and they hold the power of exclusion entirely in their own hands. The law in England makes medicine and surgery a close corporation, very different from the freedom here.”
Miss Garrett seems to verify all this, and more. I know, myself, that the same talk and the same help would be extended to you should you go to Berlin. But all that means a different thing from native women taking the same work, as a general thing. There are some liberal men, to be sure, but they are so much in the minority that their voices cannot even be heard.
The work for us is in America, and nowhere else. I therefore feel extremely glad to find that some of the most prominent men in New York have taken up the matter; they have published a circular asking the public to give fifty thousand dollars which is to be invested, and the interest of which is to go for scholarships in one of the great New York medical schools, for the use of such women as are able to meet all the demands for a preparatory education.
This is the best plan after all, both here and abroad, and the best you can do is to learn all you can so as to come home well prepared to enter the ranks as a practitioner. Every well-educated woman works more for the cause of her fellow beings by doing well herself rather than by meddling and trying constantly to help others. For the next few years, I shall make this my working principle and after that, I shall see what is best to be done next.
... You are very much mistaken if you think Vienna or Berlin better than the Paris Maternité for real knowledge. For instance, in Berlin, no student, not even a male, is permitted to perform “version” or do anything in the way of an operation. In Paris, every midwife gets her case of “version.”
In Vienna, only the male students get “versions.” And both there and in Berlin the men take the places close to the beds and the women have to stand on the outskirts; While in Paris no man stands in the woman’s way.
... I felt very sorry that you were so homesick during the holidays. I really missed you more than I ever missed anybody before. I hope you will be at home next Christmas.
... I sent Miss —— on Christmas Eve a little ivory bookmark, beautifully cut, Swiss work; it can be used also as a paper cutter though it is very weak.
... I am not seeing Miss —— since she came home. I think my friendship, or rather hers, is over, since she cannot convert me.
Roxbury, February 20, 1863.
It seems to me an eternity since I wrote to you last, and the cause of it is that I was very sick and unnaturally busy. I delivered my lecture on January 20th. and the Hospital got some fifty dollars profit.
I had been extraordinarily busy and had the house full of patients in Roxbury. Besides, I was short of help at the Hospital which worried me very much. The consequence was that I got really sick, gave up practice entirely for a week, and when I did not get better, I packed my bundle and went to New York on a “spree.” Now, is it not curious that what we wanted to do for so long, namely, to take a journey together, was realized with Miss ——. She volunteered to take care of me, and consequently went with me and we had a real good time, at least as far as I could have it, being really sick and blue.
Since then I am a little better, but not very well, and so busy that I have had to disappoint Aunt Hannah three evenings, after I had appointed the day to take tea with her and to spend a lively hour. Yet I could not help it.
So much for myself! Next thing is the Hospital. Dr. Breed has resigned her position, and I am therefore without a resident physician. Miss Tyng takes charge in my absence, while Miss Abbott stands second. She is resident student and also aids in the nursing. Miss Tyng is splendid in all mechanical work, and together they are very helpful to me.
As to a resident physician, I am authorized, and appointed a committee, to ask “you” whether you will be willing to fill this post after your return. In case you accept, we shall go on as at present, and wait for you. Write me, therefore, at once what you think about it.
My great desire is that we shall have an office together. Now, I do not like Pleasant Street at all, although it would not make any difference to you where you begin practice. Perhaps we can find a more suitable house for next fall. Ours is too small anyhow. However, this must be left to the future.
So far, we are doing very well at the Hospital. And yesterday, Dr. H. R. Storer called upon me and invited me to call upon him, as he is anxious to extend colleague-ship to me. He was a student of Simpson, in Edinburgh, and a classmate of Priestley, and he studied with Dr. B. Brown. By the way, you must get certificates from all these men that you studied with them, or that you visited their respective hospitals. If it is nothing more than a simple recommendation, it will help you amazingly over here, and also do good to the general cause of women studying abroad. Therefore, try to get something written.
I shall go to see Dr. Storer next week and show him some of your letters. I am sure you will find a good reception here, as I am preparing the way for you somewhat among the physicians. I also read some extracts from your letters in my lectures, reading especially loudly the one where Dr. Brown introduced you as “Dr. Sewall from America.”
... I will send you a Philadelphia catalogue next week, but I would advise you not to encourage any students coming here at present. Dr. Blackwell is trying very hard to make arrangements for women to enter the New York University of Medicine. If she succeeds, it would be much better for any woman to go there rather than to Philadelphia.
[The Female Medical College of Pennsylvania was still struggling for existence against the bitter opposition of the men, and especially of the Philadelphia Medical Society. It had at this time just reopened after being obliged to close for the session of 1861-1862.]
Rather, let the English women fight their way in England. Don’t get too much interested in the establishment of a woman’s college in London. Dr. Blackwell is correct in her statement as to the position women would occupy there in case they study separately from the men.
... I have not yet seen either your father or the books as I can hardly find time for anything except my practice.
Roxbury, May 7, 1863.
... I received your first letter from Paris on Saturday, May 2d. I am very glad to hear of your success and hope you will profit by it. We are going on beautifully here with our Hospital if only we had more money.
... We had five days of incessant storm, and now it pours down like a deluge. Spring has been very forward this season. Our cherries were in bloom and we sat on the hill on April 13th. What did you do on your birthday? We celebrated it by being out of doors all the morning and wishing for you.... I went to New York again for about four days.... My health is tolerably good again, I think better than last spring.... Miss Sprague is now in Minna’s place, and she heads the Roxbury house beautifully. I like her very much in this position, she takes such an interest in the whole affair. Rosalie is with me now and acts quite nicely as nurse.
I don’t mean to have many patients this summer; everything is so dear, and besides it is a great burden. I would rather live by myself and pay more for the comfort of having a free home than to make a little profit.
... In the Hospital we are so busy that the back parlor is turned into a ward for four beds.
... We have a fine Dispensary now—about one thousand patients this year and an interesting Hospital. Next week we shall have one great operation, and probably a second one.
Don’t be alarmed about my health. I am as well as usual, and I think a little better than last spring. There are a good many things that worry and trouble me besides my work, things which I cannot control, and which have a good deal to do with my running down in health. At present I feel quiet and happy.... I got a fresh supply of young chickens this morning.... What buttons did you buy? I want to send you the money very much.
Elsewhere Dr. Zakrzewska, in speaking of her lecture mentioned in one of the preceding letters, says that the founding of the New England Hospital had given rise to so many inquiries as to the need for hospitals that she was requested to give a lecture on the “History, designs and needs of hospitals” in general and of special hospitals in particular. She also corrects the figures for receipts, later returns showing a net profit of one hundred dollars, although the admission fee was only twenty-five cents. She continues:
It is surprising how at that time hospitals were considered as places for merely the poor and the wretched, or for the victims of accidents in public streets or roads.
We had to cultivate the feeling that such enterprises were something necessary and desirable, especially since the use of anesthetics and the great improvement in surgical antisepsis have tended to make the hospital the regular place for surgical treatment of the rich as well as of the poor.
We had also to show the wisdom of isolation by the removal, even from the houses of the rich, of the patient afflicted with a contagious disease, in order to save the rest of the family as well as to offer a greater chance of recovery to the patient.