CHAPTER VIII

THE RIOT AT SURGEONS’ HALL

S. J.-B.’s medical experience in America had consisted mainly of practical hospital work, and that chiefly in connection with the special diseases of women. She had done a little dissecting in a rough and ready way, and the privilege of what she then considered “real teaching” had just been put within her reach when she was called home by the illness of her father. She had this advantage, however, over her fellow- students,—she knew that the “horrors” of the dissecting-room have only to be faced in a spirit of serious intention in order to be dispelled. She knew by experience that one _must_ pull oneself together in the first instance for fear of doing irreparable damage to the dainty structures that lie almost as cunningly hidden in surrounding tissue as the future statue lies in the block of marble; and she knew that, little by little, the privilege of laying bare that marvellous “handiwork” becomes so enthralling as to make the earnest student oblivious to everything else.

The Anatomy Class began formally in November, but the rooms were open and teachers present from the beginning of October, for those who cared to attend; so the women had the advantage of meeting in the first instance only the keener of the students, or at least those who were working with a special object in view. The women would gladly have had a separate room, had this been available, but in their quiet corner they worked away steadily, forgetful of all beyond. And everything went well. Never, the lecturer said, had better work been done in his class-rooms.

Meanwhile influential friends were doing what in them lay to forward the interests of the women in other quarters; for it must be remembered that, as matriculated students of the University they ought not to have been _compelled_ to study in Extra-Mural classes, and indeed it was only a limited number of such classes that would be accepted for the University degree. On October 28th a motion was brought forward in the General Council of the University in favour of affording farther facilities to the lady students. The motion was met by a direct negative, Professor Christison asserting in the course of his speech that Her Majesty Queen Victoria had expressed her concurrence in the views that had been put forth on a previous occasion by Dr. Laycock and himself. If there was any truth in this, one can only speculate as to the form in which the story had reached Her Majesty’s ears,—certainly not through the medium of a leading article in the _Times_. What weight her reported opinion may have carried it is impossible to say, but, in any case, when put to the vote, the negative was carried by 47 to 46.

(“Well, try again next year!” says S. J.-B.)

In reading the whole story, one is struck over and over again by the narrowness of the majority by which things were turned. Great is the responsibility of the weak and cowardly, the lazy and double-minded,—the “unstable” who call themselves impartial.

At this stage, wisely or not, the women were advised to apply for permission to work in the wards of the Royal Infirmary. This was the only hospital in Edinburgh large enough to fulfil the requirements of the General Medical Council for registration as a medical practitioner, and the women were entitled to the privilege in virtue of their Matriculation tickets. They knew that some of the doctors were in their favour. Here are two of the “thumb-nail sketches” from the diary:

“Saturday, Oct. 29th. Dr. Watson,—most friendly. Only too happy to have us as pupils. Could not anticipate difficulty about Infirmary, etc....

Dr. Littlejohn foresaw the ruin of his son by women doctors, but ‘would drink the bitter cup to its dregs,’ and vote for us.”

Their request, however, was met by a curt refusal.

“Monday, October 31st. Refused us dead.

Gordon says, ‘Try a written memorial!’ Wood says he believes their charter compels them to admit all medical students.

Qui vivra verra.”

It is obvious that they had approached the very stronghold of the enemy. Might is right and possession nine points of the law. The matter lay in the hands of a body of Managers who were obviously judging the case as represented to them by the medical party in power; so now the duty fell upon the women of explaining their position as far as possible to those in whose hands the decision lay.

“Friday, Nov. 4th. Just put down this day’s work for a specimen! Studying and canvassing at once,—

8.45. Started for Surgeons’ Hall.

9-10. Tutorial class, bones.

10-11. Surgery lecture.

11-1. Dissecting.

1-2. Anatomy Lecture.

2.10 Reached home and found a letter from Mr. Blyth (Manager) telling me to meet him at 2 p.m.!! Got there (after bolting beef-tea and wine) at 2.45. Talked at him for nearly an hour with good results, I believe. Got back home 3.40. Bolted some food, and went

4 p.m. Demonstration exam. Didn’t know the Acromion but got 13/20 marks.

Home to dinner.

7 p.m. Started on round of calls.

Home at 10 p.m. Not tired,—oh, dear no!”

“I _don’t_ like you to be a perpetual battering ram,” writes Miss Du Pre, “for I suppose battering rams do wear out after a good many sieges; but still I thoroughly like and admire your ‘never say die’ feeling, and it _is_ a fight with something worth fighting for to be got at the end, which is a great thing.

If only I could be with you!”

One must read the following letters, which were laid before the subsequent meetings of the Board, in order to realize how strong and sane the position of the women was:

“November 5, 1870.

MY LORD AND GENTLEMEN,—As lecturers in the Edinburgh Medical School we beg most respectfully to approach your honourable Board, on behalf of the eight female students of this school whom, we understand, you object to admit to the practice of the Royal Infirmary. On their behalf we beg to state:—

1. That they are regularly registered students of medicine in this school.

2. That they are at present attending, along with the other students, our courses of anatomy, practical anatomy, demonstrations of anatomy, and systematic surgery, in the school at Surgeons’ Hall.

3. That as teachers of anatomy and surgery respectively, we find no difficulty in conducting our courses to such mixed classes composed of male and female students sitting together on the same benches; and that the presence of those eight female students has not led us to alter or modify our course of instruction in any way.

4. That the presence of the female students, so far from diminishing the numbers entering our classes, we find both the attendance and the actual numbers already enrolled are larger than in previous sessions.

5. That in our experience in these mixed classes the demeanour of the students is more orderly and quiet, and their application to study more diligent and earnest, than during former sessions when male students alone were present.

6. That, in our opinion, if practical bedside instruction in the examination and treatment of cases is withheld from the female pupils by the refusal to them of access as medical students to the practice of the Infirmary, we must regard the value of any systematic surgical course thus rendered devoid of daily practical illustration, as infinitely less than the same course attended by male pupils, who have the additional advantage of the hospital instruction under the same teacher.

7. That the surgical instruction, being deprived of its practical aspect by the exclusion of the female pupils from the Infirmary, and therefore from the wards of their systematic surgical teacher, the knowledge of these female students may very reasonably be expected to suffer, not only in class-room examinations, but in their capacity to practise their profession in after life.

8. That our experience of mixed classes leads us to the conviction that the attendance of the female students at the ordinary hospital visit, along with the male students, cannot certainly be more objectionable to the male students and the male patients than the presence of the ward nurses, or to the female patients than the presence of the male students.

9. That the class of society to which these eight female students belong, together with the reserve of manner, and the serious and reverent spirit in which they devote themselves to the study of medicine, make it impossible that any impropriety could arise out of their attendance upon the wards as regards either patients or male pupils.

In conclusion, we trust that your honourable Board may see fit, on considering these statements, to resolve not to exclude these female students from the practice of, at all events, those physicians and surgeons who do not object to their presence at the ordinary visit along with the other students.

Such an absolute exclusion of female pupils from the wards of the Royal Infirmary as such a decision of your honourable Board would determine, we could not but regard as an act of practical injustice to pupils who, having been admitted to the study of the medical profession, must have their further progress in their studies barred if hospital attendance is refused them.—We are, my Lord and Gentlemen, your obedient servants,

P. D. HANDYSIDE, PATRICK HERON WATSON.”

The second letter was a petition signed by the lady students, the famous “Septem contra Edinam,” as they were called, enclosing _Paper A_ and _Paper B_. It may be well to give the names of the gallant seven once for all: Sophia Jex-Blake, Mary Edith Pechey (Mrs. Pechey Phipson), Isabel Thorne, Matilda Chaplin (Mrs. Ayrton), Helen Evans (Mrs. Russel), Mary Anderson (Mrs. Marshall), Emily Bovell (Mrs. Sturge).

“November 5, 1870.

_Paper A._—We, the undersigned physicians and surgeons of the Royal Infirmary desire to signify our willingness to allow female students of medicine to attend the practice of our wards, and to express our opinion that such attendance would in no way interfere with the full discharge of our duties towards our patients and other students.

J. HUGHES BENNETT, GEORGE W. BALFOUR, PATRICK HERON WATSON.”

In _paper B_, two other medical men expressed their readiness, if suitable arrangements could be made, to teach the female students in the wards separately.

“15 Buccleuch Place, Nov. 13, 1870.

MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN,—To prevent any possible misconception, I beg leave, in the name of my fellow-students and myself, to state distinctly that, while urgently requesting your honourable Board to issue to us the ordinary students’ tickets for the Infirmary (as they alone will ‘qualify’ for graduation), we have, in the event of their being granted, no intention whatever of attending in the wards of those physicians and surgeons who object to our presence there, both as a matter of courtesy, and because we shall be already provided with sufficient means of instruction in attending the wards of those gentlemen who have expressed their perfect willingness to receive us.— I beg, my Lord and Gentlemen, to subscribe myself your obedient servant,

SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE.

To the Honourable the Managers of the Royal Infirmary.”

Now the managers of the Infirmary were worthy folk as human nature goes, “several” of them, says S.J.-B., known to the women as “just and liberal-minded men,” so it is not surprising that a majority were sufficiently moved by these arguments to desire that the request of the women be granted. On the ground of want of notice, however, the party in power got the matter deferred for a week.

And now, clearly, the moment had come when every effort must be made to turn the women out altogether. If they carried their point at the next meeting, all might well be lost.

It was at this juncture that, for the first time, some of the students began to make themselves unpleasant, “shutting doors in our faces, ostentatiously crowding into the seats we usually occupied, bursting into horse laughs and howls when we approached,—as if a conspiracy had been formed to make our position as uncomfortable as might be.” A students’ petition against the admission of women to the Infirmary was handed about, and 500 students signed it.

So the majority gained their point, and the party in power won an easy victory.

“Follow it up,” said someone. “Don’t stop there. While you are at it, why not get rid of the women altogether?”[69]

Footnote 69:

This is a neutral and harmless paraphrase of the arguments some of the professors actually used in talking to the students, but one does not want to perpetuate the memory of words used in an angry conflict.

It was not a surprising suggestion; the presence of the women was making some people very uncomfortable; but those who made the suggestion must have had a pretty good idea of how the students would proceed to carry it out, and what class of student would take the lead.

For a day or two a feeble and cowardly effort was made to obstruct the entrance of women into the class-room, but S. J.-B., followed by her companions, simply failed to see the students who half-heartedly stood in her way, and walked through them.

And then came about the “riot at Surgeons’ Hall”, of which so much has since been said, and of which Charles Reade made picturesque use in his novel, _The Woman Hater_.

In order to get a plain, unvarnished account of what took place, we cannot do better than quote the _Courant_[70] (the only Edinburgh morning paper which was unfavourable to the women) and the very brief record in S. J.-B.’s diary:

“A disturbance of a very unbecoming nature took place yesterday afternoon in front of the Royal College of Surgeons, caused by the entrance of the lady ‘medicals’ to the class-rooms. However ungallant it may appear, there is no doubt that many of the students look upon the admission of the ladies to the classes with no friendly eye; but, unfortunately for their own credit, some have adopted a very undignified mode of signifying their displeasure. Shortly before four o’clock, the hour when the ladies arrive at the College, nearly two hundred students assembled in front of the gate leading to the building. As may be readily supposed, there was no lack of animation amongst the students; and, with other popular melodies, ‘The Whale’ and ‘John Brown’s Body’ were sung with more spirit than good taste by at least a hundred voices. Such a noisy demonstration speedily attracted a large crowd, and greatly interfered with the public traffic. Shortly before four o’clock those on the outlook descried the approach of the ladies, and immediately their appearance was greeted with a howl which might have made those who are supposed to be possessed of more temerity, quail, but it seemingly had no effect upon the ladies, for they most unconcernedly advanced towards the gate, the students opening up their ranks to allow them to pass. On reaching the gate it was closed in their face. Amidst the derisive laughter which followed this very questionable action, it must be said to their credit that a number of students cried ‘shame.’ In a short time the janitor succeeded in opening one leaf of the gate, and the ladies were admitted to the precincts, but not before some of them had been considerably jostled.

The anatomical class-room to which they proceeded was crowded to the door, and, in consequence of the noise and interruption, Dr. Handyside found it utterly impossible to begin his demonstrations. With much difficulty, he singled out those students belonging to his class, and, turning the others out of the room, he was about to proceed, when the pet sheep which grazes at the College was introduced to the room, a student jocularly remarking that it would be a good subject for anatomical purposes. Poor ‘Mailie’ was kept a prisoner, and the lecturer was allowed to proceed.”

Footnote 70:

The _Courant_, Nov. 19, 1870.

“Let it remain,” Dr. Handyside had said, “it has more sense than those who sent it here.”

“When the class broke up, a number of the students seemed determined to accompany the ladies home; but the result was that several of them were apprehended by the police.”

The writer of the diary naturally saw things from a different point of view:

“Friday, 18th. On getting in sight of S(urgeons’) H(all), found mob of students and mixed multitude.

Had to go down to P.O. and to Houlden’s for Mrs. Evans [a most characteristic touch this! in later life S. J.-B. often spoke of herself as ‘a sheep dog grown old.’] Then crossed road, ... Mrs. T[horne] and I in front, then Mrs. K[ingsley] and others.

Reaching pavement, way cleft for us by one or two, till gate reached and clashed in our face, by smokers inside. I placidly leant on it outside, mid cries of ‘Shame,’ ‘Let them in,’ etc., till Sanderson sprang forward and forced it open and in we went,—Mrs. K. not, [she] remaining outside to hear ‘very bad language, in which I didn’t join.’ (To S. M. M.’s great amusement.)

Then we went in and had demonstration,—some rushed in after us.

Dr. Handyside went out and remonstrated, etc. Then sheep introduced.

We passed rather good examination. Then at end H. asked if we would go out by back door. ‘Oh, no,’ I said, ‘I am sure there are enough gentlemen here to prevent any harm to us.’ And so we went, Hoggan and Sanderson pioneering,—S. M. M. said she got hit,—Wilson came up and took Mrs. K.’s arm (to our momentary fright), then we proceeded home, escorted by

a. gallant cavaliers, b. police, c. general mob, d. all boys and girls of the town.

“Monday, 21st. Had warning of a ‘more serious demonstration’, so Wilson swore in the Irish Brigade. I asked Professor Wilson about it, and he requested Turner to keep his class till past five,—they were let out at 4.45![71]

Footnote 71:

One hopes this fact was incorrectly reported; it has never been contradicted. Possibly the Professor was annoyed at being asked to effect that by force which could safely be confided to the gentlemanly feeling of his students.

However, it being rainy, there was almost no crowd.

“Tuesday 22nd.... The Irish Brigade filed in to demonstration, and then escorted us home,—some 30 or 40 in all. One woman hissed. W. as we came to crossing regretted it ‘hadn’t been swept,’ etc.—otherwise all quiet. The O’Halloran squired E. P., called her ‘ma belle,’ declared ‘a loife wasn’t much, but all the Irishmen would lay down theirs before we came to harm,’ etc.

And in the passage, the same mighty chief shook my hand nearly off, vowing the pleasure it would give him and his to be any service to us, etc., etc.

They gave us a great cheer when they got to the door.

In the crowd B. heard,—‘You know they’d never do it if they could get married.’ ‘Eh, you‘re wrong there, there are some very good-looking ones among them.‘ ‘Eh, now, see the students escorting them home,— isn’t it pretty?’

And O‘Halloran’s troubles with his men. ‘For God’s sake, look after X.! It’s his first night out, and he’ll be wanting to distinguish himself,—he’ll be hitting a policeman!’

Altogether great ‘demonstration in favour,’ as _Daily Review_ says.

“Wednesday, 23rd. Same escort, though little necessary.”

The Wilson who swore in the Irish Brigade, has, of course, no connection with Professor Wilson. He was a student, and remained throughout life a loyal supporter of the cause.[72] His letter, written on the Sunday following the riot, is interesting:

“DEAR MISS PECHEY,—I wish to warn you, and, through you, your friends, that you are to be mobbed again on Monday. A regular conspiracy has been, I fear, set on foot for that purpose. I wish you to tell your friends that, although the projected demonstration against you on Monday is intended to be much more serious than the one on Friday, and to frighten you all away, you need not in the least fear it. I have made what I hope to be efficient arrangements for your protection. I have passed the word round amongst a lot of my friends—not wholly inexperienced in the kind of work—and you will be all right.

I had a meeting with my friend, Micky O’Halloran who is leader of a formidable band, known in College as the ‘Irish Brigade,’ and he has consented to tell off a detachment of his set for duty on Monday. Micky was the formidable hero with the big red moustache who stood by us on Friday and whose presence with us rather disappointed the rioters who, I think, calculated on the aid both of himself and his set. I have taken care of _that_, and I believe the mere demonstration of the fact that you have men on your side able and willing to protect you, will deter the mob from even an attempt at a row.

They are a cowardly lot, nearly all very young, and I don’t think they have even one amongst them, who has had experience of the days when street-rioting was one of the accomplishments Edinburgh students were acquainted with, so they are not likely to be very troublesome. I believe they’ll ‘cave in’ if you only show a brave front. I have considerable influence also with the Highlanders in College, and expect to get a good deal of help from them, when I pass the word round tomorrow.

May I venture to hint my belief that the real cause of the riots is the way some of the professors run you down in their lectures. They never lose a chance of stirring up hatred against you. For all I know they may have more knowledge of the riotous conspiracy than most people fancy. However, as I tell you, you and your friends need not fear, as far as Monday is concerned. You will be taken good care of.

Yours faithfully, ROBERT WILSON.

P.S. I would have sent this communication through Mrs. Kingsley, but as I have no chance of seeing her tomorrow, and as you are her friend, I send it to you.”

Footnote 72:

In January, 1886, Mr. Robert Wilson had an article, “Æsculapia Victrix,” in the _Fortnightly Review_.

Mr. Henry Kingsley was at this time editor of the _Daily Review_, and almost as redoubtable a champion of the cause as Alexander Russel himself. Of Mrs. Henry Kingsley’s loyalty it is impossible to speak in exaggerated terms. In the drawing-room, in the columns of a newspaper, and on the platform, she was equally ready to defend a fighting cause, and to correct the numerous misapprehensions that sprang up in connection with it. She attended the scientific classes without any idea of qualifying as a doctor, mainly for the purpose of identifying herself with the movement, and with people who had her wholehearted sympathy and admiration.

The news of the “Riot” went forth over the whole world, and the indignation roused by the matter of the Hope Scholarship was as nothing compared to that called forth by this escapade. “We trust the authorities of the medical school at Edinburgh will visit exemplary chastisement on the cowardly cads—we have no milder name for them—who could so conduct themselves towards the ladies who paid them the compliment of supposing they could act like gentlemen. Edinburgh has ceased to be so attractive as she was as a centre of education.” This was a fair specimen of the indignant criticism called forth, and one is glad to record that none were more prompt to disown the delinquents than the more reputable of the students themselves. Some few papers, even of some standing, espoused the cause of the rioters; and, in order to do this, it was perhaps almost necessary to represent the women and their doings in a way that disgusted all decent-minded men,—“a brutality,” said the _Spectator_, with reference to a given article, “of which a costermonger quarrelling with a fishwife would be ashamed.”[73]

Footnote 73:

_Spectator_, December 3, 1870.

Some of us can imagine, too, the style of anonymous letter which the women received, and such letters were rather terrible to the women of those days.

“‘Well!—we are about in the deepest waters now,—that’s one comfort,’ says S. J.-B.”

“‘What _do_ you think your constitution is made of that it will stand such overwork?’ writes Miss Du Pre at this time. ‘You will be a real martyr to the cause, if you don’t take care. Yet I know you never needlessly use up one atom of strength, so I get a fearful idea of what the amount of work must be. I _do_ wish you could just sit down to your lessons quietly as the men students can.

The two newspaper articles made me nicely angry! I think the —— is the lowest, but, when you get to such a depth it is not easy to measure degrees of lowness. I should think such attacks must make you feel as if all people on the other side were low and mean and wicked,—don’t they? It’s always so hard to believe that one’s opponents may be good and honest and even sensible; but when any of them write such letters as those, I think it must be well nigh impossible.’”

A new Act came into operation at this time, and all the Managers of the Royal Infirmary had to retire from the Board unless re-elected. Now was the time to get in members favourable to the admission of the women, if this could be done. One can imagine the canvassing that took place on both sides.

Here are some characteristic “thumb-nails” from the diary:

“Littlejohn at Police Court,—very uncomfortable talk; he so very candid and honest, but believing he ought to vote against us in Infirmary, because ‘by hook or by crook’ they’d got up such a spirit among the students (L. was ‘ashamed of his sex’) that he was afraid persistence would injure the School.

M.,—£1000 subscriber. Quiet, simple, not narrow or hard,—only not interested previously. Said he ‘must think of it now,’ though his prejudices were against women doctors. I showed him that that was only a detail,—the question of justice lay beyond.

L. R.,—Had nothing to do with it, etc.,—but thought it all improper.

‘The young men in female wards?’... ‘Oh, it was _their_ business’!!”

At the Annual Meeting of Contributors on January 2nd, 1871, the hall at the Council Chambers was crowded long before the advertised hour, though that hour was one o’clock. Proceedings began with a hot dispute among the civic magnates as to the propriety of adjourning to the High Church (St. Giles’ Cathedral) which would seat a larger number of people,—the representative of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners declaring that the Police Court would be a more suitable place, but allowing himself to be over-ruled on a point of law by Mr. Duncan M‘Laren, M.P. for Edinburgh. By the time the move to the church had been effected, everyone was “rubbed up the wrong way,” and there was a good deal of squabbling and noisy interruption before the main question at issue came on at all.

The Lord Provost himself proposed the election of six men known to be in favour of the women students, and an amended list was proposed by one of the Infirmary Medical Staff. Warm language was used on both sides, and interruptions were frequent. This was the atmosphere in which S. J.-B.— in the capacity of a subscriber—asked leave to speak.[74]

Footnote 74:

Someone has pointed out that she was the first woman to speak in St. Giles’ Church since Jenny Geddes threw her stool at the minister.

She was, as has been said, one of the finest women speakers of her time; but, even in her maturity, she was wont to suffer beforehand from an access of nervousness, of which, happily, no trace was obvious when the crucial moment arrived. What she must have suffered on this first occasion in Edinburgh we can imagine. We know that she was over-worked and tired, and that her honest resentment had been raised to the highest pitch by the way in which some of those in authority were inciting the students to make trouble. It was deliberately said later by certain grave and responsible Edinburgh citizens that she had suffered “unexampled provocation.” She wished the contributors to know the real truth of the situation, and she was resolved that the presence of her adversaries should not deter her from giving a plain, unvarnished account of what had taken place. She had realized the danger of failing from cowardice; but, in her inexperience, she had not realized the danger of going to the other extreme: and that was what she did. Part of her speech might quite justly be described as a direct personal attack on one or two individuals.

She spoke well, of course, but she owed her gift to Nature, in no way to Art: and she was confronted by those—double her age and more—who had learned the full value of outward calmness and urbanity in debate.

She had many friends in that church, and most of them must have suffered acutely: not because they did not agree with her, but because they did. Some whose allegiance was of little value, or who had come with “an open mind,” probably went over to the enemy. One is almost surprised to hear that it was only by the usual narrow majority—94 to 88 in this instance— that her cause was defeated.

And yet, perhaps, one ought not to be surprised: for courage and honesty make their own appeal; and the sore heart-burnings of generous adherents are a fire in which great things are kindled.

Of course hostile papers jeered. The _Church Review_ went out of its way to take up the matter. As it began by severely criticising on literary grounds the speaker’s use of the words “realize” and “emanate,” one wonders that it ever came to the end of its indictment at all.[75]

Footnote 75:

At a later date (1872) the _Church Review_ became definitely friendly.

We quote the part of the speech that was destined to lead to farther proceedings:[76]

“I want to point out that it was certain of these same men, who had (so to speak) pledged themselves from the first to defeat our hopes of education and render all our efforts abortive—who, sitting in their places on the Infirmary Board, took advantage of the almost irresponsible power with which they were temporarily invested, to thwart and nullify our efforts. I believe that a majority of the managers desired to act justly in this matter; but the presence of those bitter partisans, and the overwhelming influence of every kind brought to bear by them, prevailed to carry the day—to refuse us not only admission on the ordinary terms, but also to refuse us every opportunity which could answer our purpose. I know of the noble protests made against this injury by some of the most respected and most learned members of the Board, but all their efforts were in vain, because strings were pulled and weapons brought into play of which they either did not know or could not expose the character. Till then, during a period of five weeks, the conduct of the students with whom we had been associated in Surgeons’ Hall, in the most trying of all our studies, that of Practical Anatomy, had been quiet, respectful, and in every way inoffensive. They had evidently accepted our presence there, in earnest silent work, as a matter of course, and Dr. Handyside, in answer to a question of mine after the speeches at the meeting of the General Council, assured me that, in the course of some twenty sessions, he had never had a month of such quiet earnest work as since we entered his rooms. But at a certain meeting of the managers when our memorial was presented, a majority of those present were, I understand, in favour of immediately admitting us to the Infirmary. The minority alleged want of due notice of the question, and succeeded in obtaining an adjournment.

What means were used in the interim I cannot say, or what influence was brought to bear; but I do know that from that day the conduct of the students was utterly changed, that those who had hitherto been quiet and courteous became impertinent and offensive; and at last came the day of that disgraceful riot, when the college gates were shut in our faces and our little band bespattered with mud from head to foot. (“Shame.”) It is true that other students who were too manly to dance as puppets on such ignoble strings, came indignantly to our rescue, that by them the gates were wrenched open and we protected in our return to our homes. But none the less it was evident that some new influence (wholly distinct from any intrinsic facts) had been at work. I will not say that the rioters were acting under orders, but neither can I disbelieve what I was told by indignant gentlemen in the medical class—that this disgraceful scene would never have happened, nor would the petition have been got up at the same time, had it not been clearly understood that our opponents needed a weapon at the Infirmary Board. This I do know, that the riot was not wholly or mainly due to the students at Surgeons’ Hall. I know that Dr. Christison’s class assistant was one of the leading rioters—(hisses and order)—and the foul language he used could only be excused on the supposition I heard that he was intoxicated. I do not say that Dr. Christison knew of or sanctioned his presence, but I do say that I think he would not have been there, had he thought the doctor would have strongly objected to his presence.

_Dr. Christison_—‘I must again appeal to you, my Lord. I think the language used regarding my assistant is language that no one is entitled to use at such an assembly as this—(hear)—where a gentleman is not here to defend himself, and to say whether it be true or not. I do not know whether it is true or not, but I do know my assistant is a thorough gentleman, otherwise he never would have been my assistant; and I appeal to you again, my Lord, whether language such as this is to be allowed in the mouth of any person. I am perfectly sure there is not one gentleman in the whole assembly who would have used such language in regard to an absentee.’

_Miss Jex-Blake_—‘If Dr. Christison prefers——’

_Dr. Christison_—‘I wish nothing but that this foul language shall be put an end to.’

_The Lord Provost_—‘I do not know what the foul language is. She merely said that in her opinion——’

_Dr. Christison_—‘In her opinion the gentleman was intoxicated.’

_Miss Jex-Blake_—‘I did not say he was intoxicated. I said I was told he was.’

_The Lord Provost_—‘Withdraw the word “intoxicated.”’

_Miss Jex-Blake_—‘I said it was the only excuse for his conduct. If Dr. Christison prefers that I should say he used the language when sober, I will withdraw the other supposition’ (laughter).”

Footnote 76:

_Scotsman_, January 3, 1871.

The _Pall Mall_,[77] chuckling sympathetically over this and another repartee, wisely concluded:

“It is sincerely to be hoped that these unhappy little differences will soon come to an end. It cannot be to the advantage of anyone that lady students should be pelted with mud, or that they should use the power of retaliation displayed by their champion at the Royal Infirmary meeting on Monday.”

Footnote 77:

January 5, 1871.

So the conflict deepened, and it would have been small wonder if all but the very brave had taken fright.

But Edinburgh did contain some very brave people besides the women students.

At the meeting on January 2nd, the Revd. Professor Charteris had been ruled out of order in some matter, but, at the earliest opportunity he returned to his point, and brought forward a motion, expressing the desire of the contributors that immediate arrangement should be made for the admission of the ladies to the Infirmary. This motion, seconded by Sir James Coxe, M.D., was lost by a small majority.

Several things happened at that meeting, however, which were of more value to the cause than a formal victory would have been:

A petition was read, signed by 956 women of Edinburgh, expressing “our great interest in the issues involved, and our earnest hope that full facilities for hospital study will be afforded by the Managers to all women who desire to enter the Medical Profession.”

More important still was the appearance of Mrs. Nichol, a well-known and most gracious elderly lady, endowed with the very fragrance of early Victorian womanhood, who came forward to ask a question,—“not,” she said, “in the interests of the lady students, but on behalf of those women who looked forward to see what kind of men were they who were to be the sole medical attendants of the next generation, if women doctors were not allowed.”

“If the students studying at present in the Infirmary cannot contemplate with equanimity the presence of ladies as fellow-students, how is it possible that they can possess either the scientific spirit, or the personal purity of mind, which alone could justify their presence in the female wards during the most delicate operations on, and examinations of, female patients.”

Yes, there were very brave people in Edinburgh besides the women students.

This question was received with “laughter, hisses and applause,” and no one ventured on a reply. No one except the rougher of the students who were assembled in the gallery on the look-out for a lark. They howled their appreciation of the question; but it was only when S. J.-B. rose to speak—and of course she had to pay the penalty of having rashly described them as “puppets”—that they really let themselves go,—shouting and yelling and pelting her with peas.

“Well,” said Professor Blackie, “ye can now say ye’ve fought with beasts at Ephesus.”

As a matter of fact she had not meant to speak again, but one of the professors had left her no alternative. In the course of a long speech he had asserted that, in consequence of mixed education, a college in America “had become so degraded that a woman who respected herself shrank from the contamination, and preferred to renounce the benefit of years of study rather than don the academic robe of one of its graduates.”

“Name the college,” said S. J.-B., and other voices took up the cry of “Name!”

“He spoke on authority.” (A voice—“What authority?”) “On the authority of Miss Blake herself, who ... when asked why she had not pursued her studies instead of coming here, told him that the character of female medical students in America had so deteriorated that she could not consent to stay.”

It cannot be easy to speak when one has awaited one’s opportunity through a storm of hooting and pea-throwing; but now indeed S. J.-B.’s fine courage and truthfulness shone out like the sun:

“She wished merely to give an absolute, unqualified denial to Professor X.’s statement respecting her. She never made the statement he asserted she had made. During her whole visit to America she had never spent one whole session in any medical college whatever.... It was true she had studied two years in a woman’s hospital, and every day’s experience there had made her long more and more to see women in charge of their own sex—(Great interruption and cries of ‘Order’)—and it was her experience in that hospital and her knowledge of the ladies connected with it [One can almost hear her inward cry, ‘Oh, Lucy!’] that made her devote her life to getting medical education for herself and also for other women.... Some of the friends she was proudest of were women doctors in America who had been educated there entirely, and in regard to whom she scarcely knew any equals and certainly no superiors.”

It was only in answer to repeated calls that Professor X. rose and said, “He was sure there was not an individual in that meeting who would not give him credit for having given what he believed to be the correct version of what occurred according to his recollection two years ago— (Hisses and cheers)—between Miss Jex-Blake and himself. If he had misconceived what had been said, or if his memory had failed him and he had stated what was not correct, he begged to apologise, as it was purely unintentional.” (Applause and hisses.)

A somewhat disappointing outcome this, of a long course of training in scientific exactness.

It was now that the Professor of Moral Philosophy (Calderwood) rose, profoundly stirred beneath the calm and judicial demeanour that seldom failed him, and pointed out that Professor X., while speaking to the amendment “that the question (of the women students) be left to the unbiassed decision of the Managers,” had voluntarily given them a fair average specimen of an unbiassed opinion!

There are worse adversaries, in fact, than the honest beasts at Ephesus.

A sore heart lay behind that jest of Professor Blackie’s if one may judge by the following letter:

“24 Hill Street, Edinburgh. 20th January, 1871.

MY DEAR MISS BLAKE,

It is of no consequence to you, my poor sympathy with you all at present, and my utter horror of the conduct of your enemies; but I wish to tell you how saddened my husband was by all he saw and heard at the Infirmary meeting last week. He sat at tea-time shading his eyes, and saying quietly from time to time, ‘I am ashamed of my sex.’ I never saw him so hurt before. I am sure the unmanly and indecent conduct of these poor ill-led young men, and the untruthfulness of their leaders will ultimately do you good. If men lose our respect and confidence, let them look to themselves. Your admirable letters must do great good.

Pardon this intrusion, and believe me always your true friend,

E. H. S. BLACKIE.”

No less welcome, we may be sure, was this:

Huntly Lodge, Monday Evening.

MY DEAR MISS JEX-BLAKE,

I am feeling inexpressibly for you and your friends this evening, and cannot resist the inclination that has come over me to tell you how deeply grateful everyone who has the welfare of the next generation at heart must feel to you who are so nobly fighting the battle which must soon be gained—the _results_ of which will bear _precious fruit_, I fully believe, long, long after even your heads are laid in the grave.

You and the struggle you are carrying on remind me so forcibly of the contest which the band of women in America so nobly waged with the demon of Slavery. Your struggle will end much sooner, I trust, than did theirs, but, whilst sympathising with you, I cannot help feeling that the discussion is doing so much to educate people’s minds, that it is better for the cause than if you had met with no opposition; and in the end it may be better for you also, for by the time you are ready to practise, persons will have become accustomed to the idea and ready for you.

Meanwhile tell us if there is aught we outsiders can do for you, and believe me, with love to dear Miss Pechey,

Your affectionate, E. P. NICHOL.

I am sure you will like to know that I don’t feel a bit the worse for this day’s work.

You will excuse haste and some little weariness.”

Once more we are tempted to quote from a delightful budget:

“13 Sussex Square, Brighton, Jan. 19th. 1871.

MY DEAR SOPHY,

One line to wish you many happy returns of the 21st, and most of them quieter than this birthday seems likely to be.

I feel sure you will carry your point eventually, and should recommend you to stick to Edinburgh where you have already so very nearly won.

It must be very harassing at times, and need a great deal of patience: for half the enemy seem wily and half seem roughs.

The speech you last made, when the gallery ought to have been earlier cleared of its noisy occupants, seemed to me excellent: and I thought Maclaren showed great judgment in dealing with the adversary that same day. I should not be drawn much into newspaper correspondence, if I were you; and I doubt if ... was worth powder and shot. But he may be, from personal or local reasons unknown to me.

I feel no doubt whatever of the ultimate victory, but the delay is very fatiguing to the combatant.... Take it easy, and don’t let the enemy make you angry. They are sure to try.

Your affectionate brother, T. W. J.-B.”

Very soon, too, a long letter arrived from women in London,—“to the Lady Students in Edinburgh:

“DEAR LADY STUDENTS,

Let us entreat you to persevere—” and so on.

Here then were both parties firmly entrenched, with no prospect of an end to the combat; but that fire in the hearts of generous adherents was burning steadily. The Lord Provost declined to accept his defeat. He proceeded to call a meeting of citizens, and in a very short time a committee was formed to share a burden that had become far too heavy for the shoulders of a handful of women. The list of sympathizers grew like a snowball, attracting many of the most honoured names in the country, till it became a rallying cry for weaker folk the wide world over. One can best describe the significance of all this in S. J.-B.’s own words, written some fifteen years later:

“To the Committee thus inaugurated, we owe a debt of gratitude which I hardly know how to describe adequately. From that time forward to the close of our battle in Edinburgh, they stood by us with a fidelity and chivalrous readiness to help which was never marred by officiousness or needless interference. In a very short time they lifted from our shoulders the whole burden of pecuniary risk and responsibility, and, by personal and public help of every kind, made it possible for us to continue the struggle in which, without such aid, we should have been hopelessly outnumbered. Where so many gave us such invaluable assistance, it is almost invidious to single out any for special thanks; and yet I cannot refrain from putting on record our extreme debt of gratitude to three men, of whom two have already passed away from among us, viz., the Lord Provost of Edinburgh (William Law), who gave us continually the support of his official countenance and assistance; Mr. Alexander Russel, Editor of the _Scotsman_, whose advocacy was literally beyond all price in those days, when our one hope and our great difficulty was to get the real truth laid fully and fearlessly before the public; and our still invaluable friend, Professor Masson, whose championship of the weak and oppressed was then, and always has been, worthy of the noblest days of chivalry.”