CHAPTER V

PRACTICAL WORK IN AMERICA

The first seven years of New York life were years of very difficult, though steady, uphill work. It was carried on without cessation and without change from town, either summer or winter. I took good rooms in University Place, but patients came very slowly to consult me. I had no medical companionship, the profession stood aloof, and society was distrustful of the innovation. Insolent letters occasionally came by post, and my pecuniary position was a source of constant anxiety.

Soon after settling down I made an application to be received as one of the physicians in the women’s department of a large City dispensary; but the application was refused, and I was advised to form my own dispensary.

My keenest pleasure in those early days came from the encouraging letters received from the many valued English friends who extended across the ocean the warm sympathy they had shown in London. They strengthened that feeling of kinship to my native land which finally drew me back to it.

A correspondence with Lady Byron, which extended over some years, was particularly encouraging; for the strong scientific tastes of this admirable woman, as well as her large benevolence, led her to take a steady interest in the study of medicine by women.

The following is a characteristic letter from this valued friend:—

Brighton: December 9, 1851.

I received your letter some days ago, and have ever since longed to write to you. The business which has chiefly prevented me is of a nature to interest you. A conference, originating with Miss Carpenter, is to be held at Birmingham to-morrow between chaplains, governors of gaols, magistrates, and a few ladies on the means of saving the young from sin and reforming them after its commission. I could not attend, and perhaps can render as much service in absence, indirectly. Miss Murray, Mr. Rathbone of Liverpool, Mrs. Jameson, and Miss Montgomery will be present.

The subject of this letter is to be the magnetoscope. The pamphlet by Mr. Rutter shall be sent you. Since its publication new discoveries have been made and amply tested, and of these I will try to give you some account. One objection received as conclusive against the reality of the magnetic influence from the operator was that the motions of the pendulum suspended from the instrument were produced solely by unconscious muscular movement on the part of the operator. Although to engineers and persons acquainted with the laws of motion this rotation of the pendulum in the instrument appeared to be a strange new mechanical power, yet the Royal College of Physicians and the ‘Lancet’ decreed that it should be explained by involuntary muscular movement, and one M.D. of eminence wrote a letter to me implying that believers in the magnetoscope were to be classed with Mormons.

It has since been proved beyond a doubt by Mr. Rutter that the touch of the poles of a magnet or crystal to the spot before touched by the hand will be followed by movements exactly similar, the rotation being from east to west or from west to east, according as the north or south pole of the crystal is directed to the spot. After _contact_ it occurred to Mr. R. to try _pointing only_ with the poles of the crystal _held in his hand_. The same effect ensued. What becomes of the muscular impulse theory? Another objection is now considered as fatal—that when the eyes are closed all motion is stopped if the operator is either holding the thread or touching the magnetoscope. Ergo, they say, it is all imposture. But is there not another light thrown by this on the power of the eyes—on their ‘electric glance’? It is stated in Carpenter’s ‘Animal Physiology’ that a woman whose left arm was palsied could hold up a child with it _as long as she looked at it_. When she closed her eyes the arm dropped. A Mr. John Dimson, well known now in Brighton, has a paralytic affection of his feet, and cannot walk unless _he fixes his eyes upon them_. To this fact Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge (Florence’s friends) and Lady Easthope have recently given me their attestation as eye-witnesses, and I understand that the fact is observed at German baths for lame patients.

With the disposition, then, to ‘pooh-pooh’ the discovery in London, I think it will probably be left to America—perhaps to you!—to evolve the truth. Therefore I shall feel it my duty to put you in possession of facts bearing upon it. I have, however, had the satisfaction of seeing conviction produced on the mind of one of our most distinguished geologists, who perceived the connection between the influences of magnetism and metals on the pendulum, and some of the subterranean operations, particularly mineral springs. (My hand is tired and must rest.)

The application of magnetism to the principle of life is most satisfactory to me. The unification of the magnetism of the human head by finding that the pendulum is influenced by it, exactly as by a real magnet, that the poles correspond, the forehead being north when the person is upright. (Changes take place in the recumbent position.) This is when a person stands in any direction, _live_ bodies being _independently_ magnetic. It is the case even with an egg new laid. After boiling, _that_ power ceases, and it is a magnet only _by induction_, like any other inorganic matter. In trying experiments the feet must not be crossed, nor the legs, nor the hands clasped, nor thumbs joined. These attitudes all occasion the motions to stop—for they complete this circuit—analogous to electrical phenomena. After all, I have not told you what appears the most curious fact in its consequences, that (as far as yet tried) the body loses its influence on the magnetoscope in sleep. Its polarity is gone, as in death! ‘Twin brothers!’

On reading over what I have written I perceive a want of explicitness, which I hope the pamphlet will make up. I will divide it into sheets to be sent in letters.

With a strong feeling that the ocean is not distance,

Yours most truly,

_A. I. Noel Byron_.

At this time I employed the leisure hours of a young physician in preparing some lectures on the physical education of girls, which were delivered in a basement Sunday school room in the spring of 1852.

These lectures, owing to the social and professional connections which resulted from them, gave me my first start in practical medical life. They were attended by a small but very intelligent audience of ladies, and amongst them were some members of the Society of Friends, whose warm and permanent interest was soon enlisted. Indeed, my practice during those early years became very much a Quaker practice; and the institutions which sprang up later owed their foundation to the active support of this valuable section of the community. The family of Mr. Stacy B. Collins, a highly respected member of the Society of Friends, will always be affectionately remembered. They first engaged me as the family physician. The granddaughter, now Dr. Mary B. Hussey, was my ‘first baby;’ and a warm friendship continues into the third generation. The names also of Robert Haydock, Merritt Trimble, and Samuel Willets will always be gratefully remembered in connection with this movement in New York. These well-known and highly respected citizens with their families gradually became our most steadfast friends.

My first medical consultation was a curious experience. In a severe case of pneumonia in an elderly lady I called in consultation a kind-hearted physician of high standing who had been present in Cincinnati at the time of my father’s fatal illness. This gentleman, after seeing the patient, went with me into the parlour. There he began to walk about the room in some agitation, exclaiming, ‘A most extraordinary case! Such a one never happened to me before; I really do not know what to do!’ I listened in surprise and much perplexity, as it was a clear case of pneumonia and of no unusual degree of danger, until at last I discovered that his perplexity related to _me_, not to the patient, and to the propriety of consulting with a lady physician! I was both amused and relieved. I at once assured my old acquaintance that it need not be considered in the light of an ordinary consultation, if he were uneasy about it, but as a friendly talk. So, finally, he gave me his best advice; my patient rapidly got well, and happily I never afterwards had any difficulty in obtaining a necessary consultation from members of the profession.

In 1852, warmly encouraged by Mrs. Dr. Bellows, I published the lectures I had given, under the title, ‘The Laws of Life in reference to the Physical Education of Girls.’ This little work was favourably regarded by physicians; it drew forth an encouraging letter from the dean of my college, to my very great gratification. It also happened to fall under Mr. Ruskin’s notice, and gained his valuable commendation.

Being still excluded from medical companionship, and from the means of increasing medical knowledge which dispensary practice affords, I finally determined to try and form an independent dispensary.

In 1853, with the aid of some of my friends, a small room was engaged in a poor quarter of the town near Tompkin’s Square; one of my Quaker friends, Mrs. Cornelia Hussey, actively assisted in arranging drugs, covering a screen, &c. This dispensary (afterwards moved to Third Street) was opened three afternoons in each week, and I had the satisfaction during the following two years of finding it welcomed by the poor, and steadily enlisting a larger circle of friends.

In 1854 the Act of Incorporation for an institution where women physicians could be available for the poor was obtained, and a few well-known citizens consented to act as trustees. The first annual report of this modest little dispensary is given in the Appendix. From this very small beginning have gradually arisen the present flourishing institutions of the New York Infirmary and College for Women.

It was during these first early years that, not being able to continue the expense of good consultation-rooms, I determined to _buy_ a house. A friend lent me the necessary money at fair interest, and a house in a good situation in Fifteenth Street was selected. This transaction proved a very material assistance in many different ways, and enabled me to form the home centre which is so necessary to the most efficient work. In later years also this early experience helped me to realise more fully the fundamental importance of the great land question, or ‘a stake in the soil,’ as well as other weighty social problems.

The difficulties and trials encountered at this early period were severe. Ill-natured gossip, as well as insolent anonymous letters, came to me. Although I have never met with any serious difficulties in attending to my practice at all hours of the night, yet unpleasant annoyances from unprincipled men were not infrequent. Some well-dressed man would walk by my side on Broadway, saying in a low voice, ‘Turn down Duane Street to the right;’ or whilst waiting for a horse-car at midnight by the City Hall a policeman would try to take my hand; or a group of late revellers would shout across the street, ‘See that lone woman walking like mad!’ But with common sense, self-reliance, and attention to the work in hand, any woman can pursue the medical calling without risk.

The heat of a New York summer also was at this time very trying to an English constitution. A letter to my sister in 1853 exclaims:—

Oh, dear! it is so hot I can hardly write. I was called this morning to Flushing to see a sick child, and then attended my dispensary, the thermometer varying from 86 to 90 in the house, and it stood at 102 in some rooms down town. Walk as deliberately as I would, it made my brain seem too large for my head. Flushing reminded me of the Sahara; it lay breathless under a cloudless sky, leaden with haze.

In relation to mischievous gossip it is written:—

These malicious stories are painful to me, for I am woman as well as physician, and both natures are wounded by these falsehoods. Ah, I am glad I, and not another, have to bear this pioneer work. I understand now why this life has never been lived before. It _is_ hard, with no support but a high purpose, to live against every species of social opposition.... I _should_ like a little fun now and then. Life is altogether too sober.

The utter loneliness of life became intolerable, and in October of 1854 I took a little orphan girl from the great emigrant depôt of Randall’s Island to live with me. This congenial child I finally adopted. The wisdom of such adoption is abundantly shown by an entry in my journal, two years later, written on my birthday:—

On this bright Sunday morning I feel full of hope and strength for the future. Kitty plays beside me with her doll. She has just given me a candy basket, purchased with a penny she had earned, full of delight in ‘Doctor’s birthday’! Who will ever guess the restorative support which that poor little orphan has been to me? When I took her to live with me she was about seven and a half years old. I desperately needed the change of thought she compelled me to give her. It was a dark time, and she did me good—her genial, loyal, Irish temperament suited me. Now I look forward with much hope to the coming events of this year.

An amusing circumstance relating to this child is worth recording. She had always been accustomed to call me ‘Doctor.’ On one occasion she was present during the visit of a friendly physician. After he was gone, she came to me with a very puzzled face, exclaiming, ‘Doctor, how very odd it is to hear a _man_ called Doctor!’

In December of 1855 I gave a first drawing-room ‘Address on the Medical Education of Women.’

In this address (which was afterwards printed) it was shown that the movement was only a revival of work in which women had always been engaged; but that it was a revival in an advanced form, suited to the age and to the enlarging capabilities of women.

The clear perception of the providential call to women to take their full share in human progress has always led us to insist upon a full and identical medical education for our students. From the beginning in America, and later on in England, we have always refused to be tempted by the specious offers urged upon us to be satisfied with partial or specialised instruction. On the occasion of this address an appeal was made for assistance in collecting funds for the growth of the dispensary and the gradual formation of a hospital, as indispensable for the accomplishment of the work. A committee of three ladies was appointed at this drawing-room meeting, for the purpose of beginning the difficult work of collecting a permanent fund.

In 1854, my sister, Dr. Emily Blackwell, who had graduated with honour at the Medical College of Cleveland, Ohio, was pursuing her studies in Europe.

There she gained invaluable surgical experience from having been generously received as assistant by Sir James Simpson in his extensive practice in female diseases. The genial character of this well-known physician was shown not only by his cordial reception of Dr. Emily as pupil and assistant, but by an amusing incident which occurred whilst his consulting-rooms were filled by a waiting assembly of aristocratic patients. My sister, being a classical scholar, was often employed by the Doctor in making translations or extracts for him. On one occasion, whilst thus engaged in the farthest room of the suite, he called in a low voice, ‘Dr. Blackwell,’ then a little louder, ‘_Dr. Blackwell_,’ and when the attention of all his patients was thus aroused, he called in a voice loud enough for my sister to hear, ‘DR. BLACKWELL!’ and then from the corner of his eye, and with intense amusement, he watched the varied expressions of surprise and dismay depicted on the countenances of his distinguished patients as they saw the approach along the suite of rooms of a lady who thus answered to the summons.

The following letters to my medical sister refer to this period of the work:—

New York: May 12.

I need not tell you with what interest and hope I look forward to your Edinburgh news. The prospect is very good.... One of the most difficult points I have to contend with here is the entire absence of medical sympathy; the medical solitude is really awful at times; I should thankfully turn to any educated woman if I could find one.... Pray bear in mind to collect all the information you can about maternity, the relation of the sexes, and kindred subjects. We have a vast field to work in this direction, for reliable information is desperately needed in the world on these topics. I feel as if it were peculiarly our duty to meet this want. There is much vain thought given to these matters here. An active set of people are making desperate efforts to spread their detestable doctrines of ‘free love’ under scientific guise, placing agents with the advertisements of their books worded in the most specious and attractive manner at the doors of the conventions now being held here; on the other hand, equally misleading publications are brought out in opposition. Such teaching is utterly superficial and untrustworthy, and consequently misleading. We want facts, scientifically accurate observations, past and present, on all that bears on these matters.

You remember the pamphlet sent me by Dr. Sims of Alabama. He is now here, determined to establish a hospital for the special treatment of women’s diseases; he is enlisting much support, and will, I think, succeed. He seems to be in favour of women studying medicine. I think I shall help him in any way I can....

I have at last found a student in whom I can take a great deal of interest—Marie Zackrzewska, a German, about twenty-six. Dr. Schmidt, the head of the Berlin midwifery department, discovered her talent, advised her to study, and finally appointed her as chief midwife in the hospital under him; there she taught classes of about 150 women and 50 young men, and proved herself most capable. When Dr. Schmidt died, the American Minister advised her to come to New York; but here the German doctors wanted her to become a nurse. In desperation she consulted ‘The Home for the Friendless,’ where they advised her to come to me. There is true stuff in her, and I shall do my best to bring it out. She must obtain a medical degree....

July 24.

Don’t be discouraged. There is no doubt about our losing many opportunities because of our sex, but you must also bear in mind the disadvantages all students labour under, unless in exceptional cases. Crowded together in masses, they only see at a distance the most interesting cases; the complete study is reserved for the physician or his constant attendant. I remember expressing my impatience while in the Maternité at the restrictive rules there, and M. Blot said, ‘What you wish for are only enjoyed by the few who occupy the most favoured positions.’ Yet I gained, in spite of all difficulties, a great deal, and in accelerating ratio the longer I stayed. I remember that it seemed to me I had gained more in my fourth month at the Maternité than in the whole three preceding ones. Now I say this because I don’t want you to over-estimate the worth of pantaloons. Disguise in France or elsewhere would by no means give you all you need; if the disguise were complete you would just be reduced to the level of the common poor student, and would be, I think, quite disappointed. It needs also that influential men should take an interest in you, and give you chances quite beyond the ordinary run. I know that at St. Bartholomew’s I would not have exchanged my position for that of the simple student, though I would gladly for the clinical clerk or _interne’s_ position. Now you can do nothing in France, except by special medical influence. Your time is limited, and you cannot wait for examinations and promotions as an ordinary student. You ask me what I did, and what can be done as a lady. I entered the Maternité, dissected at l’Ecole des Beaux-Arts alone, employed a _répétiteur_ who drilled me in anatomy and smuggled me into the dead-house of La Charité at great risk of detection, where I operated on the _cadavre_. I once made the rounds of his wards in the Hôtel-Dieu with Roux, heard his lectures, and saw his operations. I attended lectures on medical generalities at the College of France and Jardin des Plantes. I believe that was all in the way of Parisian study. I applied to Davenne, Director-General of the hospitals, for permission to follow the physicians—refused; applied to Dubois and Trousseau to attend lectures at the Ecole de Médecine—refused; Trousseau advising me to disguise. You see I had no introductions, no experience. I went into the Maternité soon after going to France, and came out with a sad accident, not inclined to renew the battle, not well knowing how, and with a promising chance opened to me in London. I should do differently now. I should get the most influential introduction I could; I should tell them just what I wanted, find which hospitals would be most suited to my purpose, and if by putting on disguise I could get either an assistant’s post or good visiting privilege, I would put it on. I don’t believe it would be a disguise at all to those you were thrown with, but it would be a protection if advised by intelligent men, and would make them free to help you. I should avoid crowds, because you gain nothing in them; I don’t think either the lectures at l’Ecole de Médecine or the great hospital visits, where from one to five hundred students follow, would be of any use. It is in a more private and intimate way, and in hospitals where many students do not go, that you might gain. I know no one in a position to give you more valuable letters than Dr. Simpson, if he is disposed to. You ask me what I saw at the Maternité, but I find my notes imperfect; I have only noted down nine versions, &c. But I think the most important thing in the Maternité is the drilling in the more ordinary labours, for only where the finger is thoroughly trained can you detect varieties. The cases you send me are very interesting, and I am very glad you have made such full notes, as they will be useful hints in future solitary practice. Don’t be in a hurry to leave Dr. S., for I fear you will nowhere else find a good drilling in that department. I shall see how far I can make your notes available from time to time in my own practice. With regard to my own _clientèle_, I shall have advanced 50 dollars over last year; slow progress, but still satisfactory, as it is reliable practice, not capricious success. Only think, the thermometer has been up to 102 in some of the rooms down town! We have had three days’ ‘spells’ this July that seem to me a little beyond anything I have ever had to endure.

November 13.

I shall be very anxious to know what you do in Paris. I almost doubt the propriety of your entering the Maternité, or rather I hope that the necessity may be obviated by your finding other openings. That Dubois is somewhat of an old fox, and will, I presume, at once advise your entrance, to get rid of any responsibility; but I would not think of doing so until I had seen all the others and tried for better openings. I think you could get sufficient midwifery at the Ecole de Médecine, where the midwives have the night cases; the association would be unpleasant from the character of the women, but it would leave you your freedom. You have done excellently in Edinburgh, and nothing could be more satisfactory than the way you leave. I think, however, before going to Paris you had certainly better see Dr. Oldham of Guy’s; he is disposed to be friendly, and if he chose might greatly help you. It would seem as if it would be well to pursue your English studies before the Parisian; if you could follow Doctors Burrows and Baly in medicine at St. Bartholomew’s, and Oldham at Guy’s, you would do well. I am very glad you are collecting special medical statistics; we shall find them very serviceable in lecture or pamphlet form. It will be necessary next year to make an active effort for the dispensary, and I think a few lectures would be very important. My conviction becomes constantly stronger that you will return, and my plans for the future all involve that fact. A pleasant circumstance occurred to my German, Dr. Zackrzewska. I arranged a Cleveland course for her, and she entered two weeks ago; she met a very friendly reception, and found that Dr. Kirkland 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, if she would qualify herself for examination in surgery and chemistry and write an English thesis, that 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.

November 27.

I cannot but feel glad that you rejected the urgent persuasions to go to the Crimea. I cannot say what going to Russia might have done for you in _English_ reputation, but for America it would have been sheer waste of time. I am constantly surprised to see what an entire non-conductor of enthusiasm the ocean is, and reputation in England, except in very rare cases, is utterly unavailing here. The radical differences in national character, and the eager, youthful nature of this people, quite prevent full sympathetic transmission of feeling and recognition of older experience. I am vexed to think how completely unavailing your Scotch studies will be in the _puffing_ line, but make yourself really strong, and we will turn them to the best account in another and a better way. Don’t forget to bring a full earnest testimonial from Simpson and from others as you progress.

I’m delighted you are going to Malvern. Oh, those breezy uplands of our native isle! is anything in Nature so delicious as their air and freedom? My ride with K. over the Welsh hills stands alone in my memory, and my slide with Howy down Malvern makes my mouth water.

January 23, 1855.

Your letter came yesterday, giving me an account of M.’s relapse and the many anxieties you have suffered lately. I confess to feeling an intense anxiety about her notwithstanding the hope conveyed in your letter, and I shall look to the coming of the postman with dread for the next three weeks lest he should bring me evil news. You have been pursuing your studies in a way we did not anticipate the last eight weeks, but very surely it is not lost time; the responsibilities of such a case will strengthen you for every future case, and as an illustration of or commentary on Dr. S.’s practice, I don’t think it will be lost to you. The whole case from beginning to end strikes me as a horrid barbarism, but at the same time I fully allow that it is the way to make a reputation. M.’s death would be little to him, the responsibility would be staved off in a dozen different ways, and if she succeeded in her object, no end to the trumpeting of his praise! I see every day that it is the ‘heroic,’ self-reliant, and actively _self-imposing_ practitioner that excites a sensation and reputation; the rational and conscientious physician is not the famous one.

I have just heard one piece of news which decidedly indicates progress and which is peculiarly cheering to me, because I am persuaded that I have been chiefly instrumental in it. The New York Hospital has opened its doors to women this winter; there is now a class of eight women, all pupils from Dr. Trall’s hydropathic institute, who attend regularly the clinical visits and lectures in the amphitheatre with all the other students. The matter was discussed in full board, Trimble and Collins both advocating, and it was resolved to make the experiment, Drs. Smith, Buck, and Watson, the then attending physicians, being present and consenting, quite concurring in the principle, and only pleading the embarrassment they should themselves occasionally feel. Mr. Trimble assured them they would soon conquer their bashfulness! Thus far, it seems, there has been no difficulty. I consider the matter so important that I intend at once to take the hospital ticket and watch the experiment in person as closely as I can. I only wish the girls came from other than quack auspices.

Do the ‘knockings’ prevail at all in England? it is astonishing how they increase here. Judge Edmunds has published two large volumes, which are astonishing, I think, as a record of self-deception or credulity. The promoters hold public discussions in the tabernacle, publish endless literature, and have hired a large house in Broadway at 2,200 dollars, and Katy Fox at a salary of 1,200 dollars per annum to give free demonstrations to whoever wishes to investigate the truth of ‘this wonderful new revelation.’ I attended one of these free sittings lately at Mrs. B.’s invitation. It was a curious physical phenomenon to my mind of the animal magnetism order. My few questions were all answered wrong; but Mrs. B. and many others asked similar questions, the answers of which she knew, and they were answered promptly and correctly. Everyone who queried with eager temperament got prompt and correct replies, independent of Katy Fox’s volition. It was odd, but quite disgusting in the view taken of it, as an ultra-mundane exhibition.

_Establishment of a hospital._—In 1856 my working powers were more than doubled by the arrival of my sister, Dr. Emily Blackwell, who became henceforth my partner and able co-worker. Dr. Maria E. Zackrzewska also joined us as soon as she had graduated at Cleveland, and became for some years before her removal to Boston our active and valued assistant in the New York work.

The refreshing Sunday walks taken with this warm-hearted doctor when, crossing the bay by an early ferry-boat, we walked for hours in the beautiful environs of Hoboken or Staten Island, will always remain as a pleasant background to the affectionate friendship which still continues.

Thus reinforced, an advanced step was made in 1857 by the renting of a house, No. 64 Bleecker Street, which we fitted up for a hospital where both patients and young assistant physicians could be received. This institution, under the name of ‘The New York Infirmary for Women and Children,’ was formally opened in the May of this year by a public meeting, in which the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, Dr. Elder of Philadelphia, and the Rev. Dr. Tyng, jun., warmly supported the movement. In this institution Dr. Zackrzewska accepted the post of resident physician, Dr. Emily becoming chiefly responsible for the surgical practice.

This first attempt to establish a hospital conducted entirely by women excited much opposition. At that date, although college instruction was being given to women students in some places, no hospital was anywhere available either for practical instruction or the exercise of the woman-physician’s skill. To supply the need had become a matter of urgent importance. Our difficulties are thus noted in the Annual Report for 1864:—

‘But to this step (the establishment of a hospital) a host of objections were raised by those whom the early friends of the institution attempted to interest in their effort. They were told that no one would let a house for the purpose, that female doctors would be looked upon with so much suspicion that the police would interfere; that if deaths occurred their death certificates would not be recognised; that they would be resorted to by classes and persons whom it would be an insult to be called upon to deal with; that without men as resident physicians they would not be able to control the patients; that if any accident occurred, not only the medical profession but the public would blame the trustees for supporting such an undertaking; and, finally, that they would never be able to collect money enough for so unpopular an effort.’

Through a cloud of discouragement and distrust the little institution steadily worked its way, its few friends holding to it the more firmly for the difficulties it experienced. The practice of the infirmary, both medical and surgical, was conducted entirely by women; but a board of consulting physicians, men of high standing in the profession, gave it the sanction of their names. Dr. Valentine Mott, Dr. John Watson, Drs. Willard Parker, R. S. Kissam, Isaac E. Taylor, and George P. Camman were the earliest medical friends of the infirmary.

The pecuniary support of this institution, in addition to the medical responsibility involved in its conduct, was no small burden. For many years its annual income rested mainly on our exertions. A bazaar was held in its behalf for seven years in succession; lectures, concerts, and every other available means of collecting funds were resorted to.

At one time Fanny Kemble was giving a series of Shakespearian readings in New York, and often rendered generous help to benevolent institutions by the use of her great talent. We hoped that she might aid our struggling infirmary by giving a public reading in its behalf. So on one occasion I called with our fellow-worker Dr. Zackrzewska at the hotel where she was staying to prefer our request. She received us courteously, listened with kindness to an explanation of the object of our visit and of the needs of the infirmary; but when she heard that the physicians of the institution were _women_ she sprang up to her full height, turned her flashing eyes upon us, and with the deepest tragic tones of her magnificent voice exclaimed: ‘Trust _a woman_—as a DOCTOR!—NEVER!’

The thunder-clap which thus smote us in the New York hotel brought back amusingly to my mind the scene at Brighton, when the parlour door suddenly opened, and a brilliant figure in stage costume advanced to the gentle, refined Lady Byron with an impassioned quotation from ‘Julius Cæsar.’ The contrast between two women’s natures was so remarkable!

The necessity, however, of a separate hospital for the general training of women students had by this time been recognised. Experience both at the New York Hospital and at the large Bellevue Hospital, where classes of imperfectly trained women had failed to maintain their ground, proved that a special woman’s centre was needed, not only as affording them practical instruction, but for the purpose of testing the capacity and tact of the students themselves, before admitting them to walk the general hospitals where male students were admitted. The New York Infirmary for Women therefore gradually enlisted the active help of enlightened men and women.

We were much encouraged by the kindly contributions of articles for our annual bazaars from English friends; and a generous-hearted French lady, Madame Trélat, who felt much interest in the new medical movement, sent a donation to the funds of the hospital. The continued interest of English friends is shown by our correspondence.

_To Lady Noel Byron_

New York: December 27, 1857.

MY DEAR FRIEND,—Your kind interest in our hospital cheers me. Very few persons understand the soul of this work, or the absolute necessity which lies upon us to live out the ideal life to the utmost of our power. My work is undoubtedly for the few. It is labour in the interlinkings of humanity, and is necessarily difficult of appreciation by the mass of people, and is very slow in gaining their esteem. It has been a most toilsome lesson to translate my thought into the common language of life. I labour at this translation perpetually, and still remain too often incomprehensible. I will not degrade the central thought of this work, but I seek in every way to accommodate it wisely to the practical common-sense feeling of the people.

My sister is a noble helper, and we shall stand, I trust, shoulder to shoulder through many years of active service. I shall have the pleasure of soon forwarding to you a report of our last year’s proceedings; this will give the simple facts of our hospital life.

Allow me to remain, with very true affection,

Your friend,

ELIZABETH BLACKWELL.

79 East Fifteenth Street.