“I agree with you that the one vote stultifies the other,” wrote Professor Masson, “and I think people are seeing this. At the time I made up my mind that the first vote must carry the other unfavourably with it; but it was not for me to keep the Senatus consistent, and, when Tait announced his view, I grasped at the unexpected accident and seconded his motion.”
But the outcry was not stilled. In those days the general public knew little of the difference between one certificate and another; but they had some idea of what was meant by the losing of a scholarship, and Miss Pechey became the recipient of an amount of condolence that was positively embarrassing when compared with the extent of the injury inflicted. The skilled appreciation of the situation, however, was delightful. This was the tribute of the British Medical Journal:
“Whatever may be our views regarding the desirability of ladies studying medicine, the University of Edinburgh professed to open its gates to them on equal terms with the other students; and, unless some better excuse be forthcoming in explanation of the decision of the Senatus, we cannot help thinking that the University has done no less an injustice to itself than to one of its most distinguished students.”[59]
One can imagine the effect of criticism such as this on some of the professors. Here was a tiresome muddle from which it was difficult to see a dignified exit. What wonder if many took the cheap and obvious course of exclaiming, “The woman that Thou gavest me!—she is at the bottom of it all?” So far as the explanation went, it was perfectly true: and of course only a few of the pundits saw today with the eyes of tomorrow; only a few realized that the difficulty that was worrying them was a part of a world-wide upheaval involving the whole human race.
Of course there were those who, without taking any extreme view, were admirably sane and dignified. Instance the following letter from Professor Fleeming Jenkin:
Dear Madam,
I regret that I shall be unavoidably absent on Saturday next, or, as far as might have been possible, I should have supported Miss Pechey’s claims.
I regret my absence the less, however, as it seems to me that the legal question of a particular reward is of far less consequence than the fact of the position which you and Miss Pechey have taken in the class.
Accept my very hearty congratulations and
Miss Jex-Blake.”
There was a question of referring the matter to the University Court, but one is glad to think that wiser counsels prevailed. Miss Pechey had gone to her home in the country, and was listening to the nightingales.
“Thank you for Masson’s letter,” she writes to S. J.-B. “He is a grand fellow. Wilson has sent me the minutes of the Senatus meeting about the scholarship. I suppose I ought to write to him. I wish you were here to tell me what to do.
You understand that I leave you to do as is thought best about the scholarship,—only remember that my own judgment—apart from personal feeling—is against appealing, and that I do not wish to do so unless our friends are very decisively of opinion that we ought to.”
Well might Miss Pechey say, “He is a grand fellow.” Professor Masson had taken up the cause of the woman as wholeheartedly as if it had been a matter of vital import to himself. At the next meeting of the General Council of the University, he moved (seconded by Professor Balfour) that, instead of having separate instruction, women should be admitted to the ordinary classes of the University. The original draft of the motion was as follows:
“That, as the present arrangements for the medical instruction of women in the University impose great and unnecessary inconveniences on the women who are students, and also on Professors, and may, if continued, even nullify the resolution of the University admitting women to the study of medicine [and as it will not be to the credit of the University that it should pretend to do a thing and not do it],[60] the General Council recommend to the University Court that women desiring to study medicine be admitted to the medical classes as other students are, and on the same terms, except in cases where the Court may see special reasons why the instruction should be separate.”
“The motion is longish,” he says, “but I thought it well to have something which, when printed, would explain itself and attract attention of members of Council.... I am the more convinced that we do right in moving the General Council as above, even if we should lose, because I distinctly perceive a relapse on the part of those who had merely acquiesced, and a kind of exulting feeling on the part of others that the experience of the session may be pleaded in proof that the University perpetrated a troublous blunder when it admitted Eve’s sex at all. This state of feeling will be but temporary; but it is time that the opposed forces should meet in full conflict on the mixed-classes question.”
“Full conflict,” indeed, it proved. The opponents brought forward arguments that called forth an indignant interruption from the Professor of Moral Philosophy (Dr. Calderwood); and the Times, while disapproving of mixed classes, stated in a leading article:
“We cannot sufficiently express the indignation with which we read such language, and we must say that it is the strongest argument against the admission of young ladies to the Edinburgh medical classes, that they would attend the lectures of Professors capable of talking in this strain.”[61]
The motion was lost by 47 votes to 58.
“No speaking on our side could have changed the vote,” wrote Professor Masson, “those present were all predetermined. Crum Brown did well, and administered a proper reproof to L. Struthers was present and voted with us; so did Nicolson (who was quite in earnest when the time came), and Dr. Craufurd, who avows himself a convert. On the other hand, Wilson, Bennett, Charteris and Tait, of our side, were absent, reducing our number somewhat. People today are consoling me—for I was really downcast—by saying the result was a success in its kind, and an omen of final success when the thing comes up again, as it must. All very well; but how shall I console you? What are you to do this year? The only thing I disliked in Crum Brown’s speech was his opening statement that he thought the motion perhaps premature, the time not having elapsed for the experiment of the other method. Premature! This in face of his own refusal to continue, and in face of his subsequent declaration that the existing method is impracticable! Still he said and did well. What shall I say but that my heart is sore for your immediate discomfiture? Time—a year or two—will rectify the thing generally, here and elsewhere; but how you are to get on with us is the question. Christison, who draws Turner, Lister, and Sanders (L. is nothing) with him, seems determined to get rid of you, and trusts to effecting this by mere continuance of the present arrangement. Whether you can wriggle on with us by any ingenuity in the hope of beating him is for your consideration. Would it might be so!
The view that the result of the motion was a success in its kind proved to be a general one, and the matter was discussed at great length by newspapers, lay, medical and religious.
“There is no possible reason,” said the Guardian,[62] “why a very large proportion of instruction may not be given with perfect propriety to men and women together; but there are clearly some parts in a medical course which cannot be so treated, and there ought to be no difficulty whatever in making arrangements for these. To provide separate lectures for a few special occasions is a very different thing, both in the matter of convenience and expense, from insisting on having two distinct and separate courses throughout in every department.... Professor Masson’s motion was defeated, but by a majority so small—eleven in a meeting of a hundred and five—that its success at some future time seems certain. Let the ladies only add to the exercise of one quality, with which the world credits them, that of patience, another, which is supposed to be a less common attribute of their sex, perseverance, and they will assuredly gain their point.”
“The female students almost deserve this rebuff,” said the Spectator,[63] “for making the concessions they have done to English prudery, concessions not made either in France, Austria, or the United States. The only safe ground for them to stand on is that science is of no sex, and cannot be indelicate unless made so of malice prepense, and that by the very conditions of the profession the modesty of ignorance must be replaced by the modesty of pure intent.”
It is not to be supposed that the women students were fortified by a unanimous chorus of journalistic support: far from it: some six or seven months later the Spectator strove to understand “the bitter and, so far as we know, the unprecedented malignity with which women who aspire to be Doctors are pursued by the literary class.”
One does not wish to dwell on this. It was simply bound to be. As Sir James Stansfeld said seven years later in reviewing the whole movement:
“It is one of the lessons of human progress that when the time for a reform has come you cannot resist it, though, if you make the attempt, what you may do is to widen its character or precipitate its advent. Opponents, when the time has come, are not merely dragged at the chariot wheels of progress—they help to turn them. The strongest force, whichever way it seem to work, does most to aid.”
It is the more pleasing, however, to record the sane and wholesome view taken from the first by the leading responsible papers, including Punch.
“I am very vexed about the General Council,” wrote Miss Pechey from her home; “but it’s no use worrying,—at least so the nightingale tells me. She sang two hours at my bedroom window last night, and said all sorts of pretty things. I wish I could bring her to Edinburgh with me, but she wouldn’t like it; besides they are a very old family, and have lived in the place from the time of the Britons, so she wouldn’t like to move.
Papa did not write to the Scotsman. I knew he wouldn’t unless someone told him what to say; and I believe, if the truth were told, he still has some lurking prejudice against mixed classes. He isn’t a bit scientific, never notices the butterflies and beetles in a walk unless I point them out to him, and there are lovely ones now, peacocks and brimstones and tortoiseshells.”
It is clear that just then Miss Pechey was having a very good time. She was the woman of the moment, a lion abroad as well as in her country home, and she had the courage and the sense to enjoy the position quietly and without making a fuss. Moreover both she and S.J.-B. were human enough to appreciate the situation all the more because, from the ordinary point of view, the heroine was a truly pretty girl, as disarming as heroine well could be.
CHAPTER VII
PRACTICAL DIFFICULTIES
Perseverance—“wriggling on”—was thus the course recommended to the women by stranger and friend alike.
The Professor of Botany (Dr. Balfour, formerly Dean of the Faculty of Medicine) who had wished to admit them to his ordinary class, made arrangements to teach them separately. Professor Allmann also had declared his willingness to admit S. J.-B. to his class of Natural History (see p. 234) but he did not feel able to follow the generous example of his colleague in devoting special time and energy to the purpose. Fortunately the women had a second string to their bow in the person of Dr. Alleyne Nicholson, lecturer in the Extra-Mural School,[64] and their application to him called forth a letter which shows what the difficulties were which even a kindly and open-minded man had to face.
Dear Miss Blake,
I have not as yet succeeded in obtaining a positive assurance as to the legality of my admitting you to my ordinary class, though I no longer entertain any doubt as to my perfect freedom in the matter, so far as the University is concerned. I have, however, consulted several of my colleagues, and they are tolerably unanimous in advising me to submit the question to my class.... They advise me, namely, not to commence abruptly on Monday without any warning, but to give my opening lecture separately, to my ordinary class at one o’clock, and to you at 2 p.m. At the conclusion of the hour I should explain to the students how matters stand, and should ask their permission to make over to you a bench in the general class. This is the advice which is given me, and I have no doubt as to its wisdom.
I am fully aware that this will not be nearly so satisfactory to you as unconditional permission on my part; and I must beg you to believe that it is in many respects far from being so satisfactory to my own feelings in the matter. If I were a thoroughly independent man I can assure you that I should not be deterred from doing what I thought right in this question by any fear of the consequences. As things really stand, however, I do not feel justified in running the risk of losing my ordinary class in whole or in part, as I am assured I should do if I were to attempt to introduce this innovation wholly without warning. If I knew my class, if I had the opportunity of even two or three days’ acquaintance with them, I think I should have little to apprehend as to their behaviour on any such question as this. You will remember, however, that I am dealing with an unknown quantity in making up my mind as to the course I shall adopt; and that I am wholly without adequate data to guide me in my determination.... My present opinion is that whilst I have every wish to admit you to my general class, it will be safest for me to submit the question to my class and to abide by a decision of the majority.”
Apparently S. J.-B. obtained a verbal, but satisfactory, modification of this programme by suggesting that the class should be asked “to unite with the lecturer in inviting” the women to join them, but that was a mere matter of detail. Everything depended on the way in which Dr. Nicholson stated the case, and one is not surprised to hear that the favourable reply came not from a majority, but from the entire class. “So,” says S. J.-B., “the first ‘mixed-class’ was inaugurated and continued throughout the summer without the slightest inconvenience.”
“The course of lectures on Zoology which I am now delivering to a mixed class,” wrote Dr. Nicholson later in answer to a mistaken statement in a medical paper, “is identically the same as the course which I delivered last winter to my ordinary class of male students. I have not hitherto emasculated my lectures in any way whatever, nor have I the smallest intention of so doing. In so acting, I am guided by the firm conviction that little stress is to be laid on the purity and modesty of those who find themselves able to extract food for improper feelings from such a purely scientific subject as Zoology, however freely handled.”
This was all very well, but the classes so far obtained were mere outposts. The real Giant Difficulty lay with Anatomy and Clinical teaching, and that session’s work was complicated, for S. J.-B. in particular, by a constant undercurrent of effort to obtain the necessary teaching. It was essential that the teacher, if not a Professor, should at least be recognized by the University, and there were representatives of the University who were not desirous to make the matter easy. Over and over again hopes were raised, only to be disappointed: on one occasion the lecturer, after much parleying, had actually agreed to do the work and had accepted his fee; but, even at that late stage, he backed out and returned the fee with an apology. (“How vexed I was!” says S. J.-B., “thoroughly upset and nervous.”) It happened repeatedly, too, that the men who would have liked to help had already on some other question taken up a position unpopular with their more conservative confrères, and simply dared not espouse another fighting cause.
S. J.-B. was urged to go to Zürich and fit herself to teach Anatomy; but what assurance had she—what encouragement had she even to hope—that the University would recognize her teaching on her return? And what were the other students—a growing number—to do in the meantime? Try their fortune elsewhere?—and brave the inevitable, “Lo, these who have turned the world upside down are come hither also”?
Once and again some chivalrous man took up their cause, refusing to believe that the difficulty was real; but little by little he was apt to find that the intangible mist of opposition was as impervious as an iron wall.
It was due to Dr. Arthur Gamgee that Dr. Handyside finally agreed to admit the women to his ordinary Anatomy class and dissecting-room at Surgeons’ Hall, provided the other lecturers made no objection: and, so far the arrangements for the following winter session were made.
“Saturday, [June] 25th. Called on Dr. Watson[65] (Surgery). He signed my petition readily. Thought if we made no difficulty, no one ought to about mixed classes,—anyone in earnest in his subject should be able to teach all students. Of course the teacher should put his foot down,—the students followed a beck,—and, if invited, would of course make a row, etc....
Saw Keiller too.... Was quite favourable as to Handyside and mixed classes;—he himself having had students and midwives....”
The question of these mixed classes in the Extra-Mural School was technically an infringement of Regulation 2 in the Calendar (see p. 260), and in this connection it was duly brought before the Senatus of the University, with the proposal to refer the matter to the University Court; but Professor Bennett moved, seconded by Professor Tait, “that the Senatus see no reason to interfere.” This amendment appears to have been carried by the casting vote of the Principal.
“So that’s settled,” says S. J.-B.
“How fast events go! I really hope for mixed classes in the University before 1871.”
She forgot to allow sufficiently for the fighting force of a large minority, led by an angry few.
Meanwhile that wonderful Mother was following the struggle, not indeed with the minute study Miss Du Pre was giving to the question, but with the old unfailing sympathy. Like Miss Pechey’s father, she had been rather staggered at first at the thought of mixed classes, but shortly after this she writes:
“Darling,
I don’t now at all object to mixed classes. As the teaching must at present be given by men, I don’t see why there should not be mixed classes to listen: and I feel confident if you continue to have such a nice set of women, the tone of the young men generally will be greatly raised. If mixed classes answer so well at Zurich and Paris, why not here?—but I confess to great ignorance.”
Intellectually, the supply of women showed no sign of falling short. With the advice and coöperation of Miss Garrett, Lady Amberley had offered a scholarship for competition at the October Matriculation Examination, and S. J.-B. proudly jots down the verdict of the examiners on their work:
“‘Miss Barker’s Logic paper best ever had from medical students.’
‘Miss Bovell’s French best in University except one Frenchman’s.’
‘Miss Walker had the only 100 per cent. in Mathematics.’
Classical examiner wrote,—‘I was very much struck with the accuracy as well as elegance of some papers.‘”
Of course a woman—or a man for that matter—may pass a brilliant examination in Mathematics or Chemistry, and yet be unable to keep her head at a difficult midwifery case; and it was perfectly right and fitting that men doctors should recognize and even emphasize this fact. One would not have wished them to do otherwise. It was fortunate for the women, however, that their opponents were apt to state their case with a conspicuous want of any sense of humour, as the following letter from the Lancet[66] sufficiently exemplifies:
“Sir,—In all popular movements, however one-sided and irrational they may seem, there is some foundation of truth, the grain of common sense in the bushel of chaff. And so it is with the movement that is now taking place with respect to the admission of women into the rank of medical practitioners. I believe most conscientiously and thoroughly that as a body they are sexually, constitutionally, and mentally unfitted for the hard and incessant toil, and for the heavy responsibilities of general medical and surgical practice. At the same time I believe as thoroughly, that there is a branch of our profession—midwifery—to which they might and ought to be admitted in a subordinate position as a rule.
In France, and in many other parts of the Continent, this division of labour in Midwifery is fully carried out, and with great advantage to both parties—to the regular practitioner, who is relieved of part of his most arduous, most wearing and most unremunerative duties, and to the women who have a vocation for medicine, who are able, thus, in large numbers, to gain a respectable living in the profession they wish to practise.
I think I may safely say that there are very few medical men who have been ten years in practice, who would not gladly, thankfully, hand over to a body of well-educated and friendly midwifes their half-guinea or guinea midwifery cases. To a young practitioner there is the charm of novelty, and the desire to improve, which make remuneration altogether a secondary consideration. But after ten years‘ practice, often long before, a very decided change comes over the spirit of the dream.”
The part of the letter that follows is perhaps too technical for quotation; but the writer continues on the general question:
“I would add in conclusion that, given women of exceptional energy, capacity, and intelligence, nothing would be easier than for them, if deserving, to rise out of the midwifery ranks into a wider sphere of activity and worldly success. Let them show by their energy, by their writing, by their contributions to the progress of medical science, that they had exceptional powers of observation and intellect, and fame would soon reach them. It has reached the very few women, who, like Mrs. Somerville, have given evidence not only of mere ability and talent, but higher powers, the power to grasp the more recondite and abstruse teachings of science. But even this power—the power to master and understand the existing state of science—does not constitute the characteristic feature of the male mind in the Caucasian race. The principal feature which appears to me to characterise the Caucasian race, to raise it immeasurably above all other races, is the power that many of its male members have of advancing the horizon of science, of penetrating beyond the existing limits of knowledge—in a word, the power of scientific discovery. I am not aware that the female members of our race participate in this power, in this supreme development of the human mind; at least I know of no great discovery changing the surface of science that owes its existence to a woman of our or of any race. What right then have women to claim mental equality with men?
That woman may attain an honourable social position and pecuniary independence in our ranks in the position I point out, is proved by a case that came under my observation last year. A German lady M.D. in a German University, called on me on her way home from San Francisco. She told me that she had been practising there as an accoucheur and a ladies‘ and child’s doctor for twenty years, had gained a small fortune, and was returning to Germany to live and die in quiet. Her history was this: Early in married life her husband lost his fortune and became a confirmed invalid. She had thus her husband and two children to support. She studied midwifery and medicine, took a degree, and then went to America, settling at San Francisco. There she placed herself in a subordinate position to the medical men, acting with them, under them, and consequently supported by them. She had thus lived harmoniously with her professional brethren, and had had a career of uninterrupted professional success.
One can imagine the somewhat grim smile with which this lucubration was passed round the little band in Edinburgh: and it is only fair to say that many of their opponents would have been glad to cry:—“Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis!” The Lancet was not the advocate of the women students in those days, and one is glad to record that the Editor allowed S. J.-B. the opportunity to reply. Her letter is a fair sample of the style of writing that was becoming habitual to her,—translucently clear, concise and businesslike,—absolutely shorn of the picturesqueness that had characterized the writing of her youth.
“Sir,—I see in your columns of June 1st, 1870, a letter on ‘Women as Practitioners of Midwifery,’ and appeal to your sense of fairness to allow me a fourth part of the space it occupied for a few words in reply.
It is hardly worth while to discuss the early part of the letter, as the second paragraph sufficiently disposes of the first. After saying that women are ‘sexually, constitutionally, and mentally unfitted for hard and incessant toil,’ Dr. Bennet goes on to propose to make over to them as their sole share of the medical profession what he himself well describes as its ‘most arduous, most wearing and most unremunerative duties.’ In the last adjective seems to lie the whole suitability of the division of labour according to the writer’s view. He evidently thinks that women’s capabilities are nicely graduated to fit half-guinea or guinea midwifery cases,‘ and that all patients paying a larger sum of necessity need the superior powers of the ‘male mind of the Caucasian race.’ Let whatever is well paid be left to the man; then chivalrously abandon the ‘badly remunerated’ work to the women. This is the genuine view of a trades-unionist. It is well for once to see it candidly stated. As I trust the majority of medical men would be ashamed of avowing such a principle, and as I am sure it would be indignantly disallowed by the general public, I do not care to say more on this point.
But when Dr. Bennet proceeds to dogmatise about what he calls our claim to ‘mental equality,’ he comes to a different and much more important question. I for one do not care in the least either to claim or disown such equality, nor do I see that it is at all essential to the real question at issue. Allow me to state in a few words the position that I and, as I believe, most of my fellow-students take. We say to the authorities of the medical profession,—‘State clearly what attainments you consider necessary for a medical practitioner; fix your standard where you please, but define it plainly; put no obstacles in our way; either afford us access to the ordinary means of medical education, or do not exact that we shall use your special methods; in either case subject us ultimately to exactly the ordinary examinations and tests, and, if we fail to acquit ourselves as well as your average students, reject us; if, on the contrary, in spite of all difficulties, we reach your standard, and fulfil all your requirements, the question of ‘mental equality’ is practically settled, so far as it concerns our case; give us then the ordinary medical licence or diploma, and leave the question of our ultimate success or failure in practice to be decided by ourselves and the public.’ This is our position, and I appeal, not to the chivalry, but to the justice of the medical profession, to show us that it is untenable, or else to concede it at once.
Edinburgh, June 21st.”[68]
Nothing conciliatory here: no appeal for help for “the wee bit thing,”—the appeal that some men in those days used to find so disarming: nothing even in the spirit of the “Now remember, Daddy dear,” of those delightful controversial letters of her girlhood. It is a fair field and no favour with a vengeance now.
Possibly she might have shortened the battle if she had adopted a more conciliatory attitude. One might say the same of many of the martyrs. Had she done so, it would have meant a smaller battle,—a victory far more limited in its results. If a new move is being effectively made, it is almost always overdone. That is in the scheme of things. If there were not faults on both sides, there would be no dramatic action,—no “story”; and the world would go on its sleepy way, and pay no attention. “Individuals, feeling strongly, while on the one hand they are incidentally faulty in mode or language, are still peculiarly effective.... The very faults of an individual excite attention; he loses, but his cause (if good, and he powerful-minded) gains. This is the way of things; we promote truth by a self-sacrifice.”
Here then were the opposing forces, duly ranged against each other. One can almost imagine the move and countermove that were bound to ensue. And we must not forget the element furnished by the great mass of the students—though there were “individuals” here, too, of course—on the look out for mischief and fun, rejoicing in a row, ready “to follow a beck” as that wise Heron Watson had said.
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:
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,
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).
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.
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.
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,
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]
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: