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Footnotes have been collected at the end of the text and are linked for ease of reference.

Footnotes are gathered at the end of the text and linked for easy reference.

Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Only the most egregious of these have been corrected if they occur within quoted text, particularly juvenile matter. Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.

Minor errors caused by the printer have been fixed. Only the most serious of these have been corrected if they appear in quoted text, especially in juvenile content. Please check the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details on how any textual issues were addressed during its preparation.

The cover image has been created, based on title page information, and is added to the public domain.

The cover image has been created based on the title page information and is now available in the public domain.

THE LIFE OF SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE

By the same Author

MONA MACLEAN

FELLOW TRAVELLERS

WINDYHAUGH

THE WAY OF ESCAPE

GROWTH

Samuel Laurence pinx. Emery Walker ph. sc.
Sophia Jex-Blake
at the age of 25

Samuel Laurence created this. Emery Walker took the photo.
Sophia Jex-Blake
when she was 25 years old

LIFE OF

SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE

Dr. Margaret Todd

(GRAHAM TRAVERS)

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED

ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON

1918

IICOPYRIGHT

GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS

BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD.

TO ALL THOSE

MENTIONED IN THE FOLLOWING PAGES

OR PASSED OVER

FROM IGNORANCE OR WANT OF SPACE,

WHO LENT A HELPING HAND

TO A BRAVE AND UNSELFISH FIGHTER,

THIS BOOK IS

GRATEFULLY DEDICATED

vii

PREFACE

There are several reasons why it has seemed worth while to write the life of Sophia Jex-Blake at some length.

There are several reasons why it seemed worthwhile to write about the life of Sophia Jex-Blake in detail.

1. She was one of the people who really do live. In the present day a woman is fitted into her profession almost as a man is. Sixty years ago a highly dowered girl was faced by a great venture, a great quest. The life before her was an uncharted sea. She had to find her self, to find her way, to find her work. In many respects youth was incomparably the most interesting period of a life history.

1. She was one of those people who truly live. Nowadays, a woman is almost as integrated into her profession as a man is. Sixty years ago, a wealthy girl faced a big adventure, a significant quest. The life ahead of her was an unknown territory. She had to discover herself, chart her path, and find her job. In many ways, youth was by far the most fascinating period of a person's life story.

2. S. J.-B. has left behind her (as probably no woman of equal power has done) the record of this quest. She was a born chronicler: almost in her babyhood she struggled laboriously to get on to paper her doings and dreams; and she was truthful to a fault. We have here the kind of thing that is constantly “idealised” in present day fiction,—have it in actual contemporary record,—with the added interest that here the story begins in an old-world conservative medium, and passes through the life of the modern educated working girl into the history of a great movement, of which the chronicler was indeed magna pars. The reader will see how more and more as the years went on S. J.-B.’s motto became “Not me, but us,” till one is tempted to say that she was the movement, that she stood, as it were, for women.

2. S. J.-B. has left behind her a record of this journey, something probably no other woman of her stature has done. She was a natural storyteller; even as a child, she worked hard to get her thoughts and dreams on paper, and she was honest to a fault. Here, we have the kind of thing that is often “idealized” in today’s fiction—captured in a real contemporary narrative—with the added interest that the story starts in a traditional, conservative setting and moves through the life of the modern educated working woman into the history of a significant movement, where the storyteller played a major role. The reader will notice how, as the years passed, S. J.-B.’s motto became “Not me, but us,” leading one to feel that she truly embodied the movement, representing women as a whole.

3. That, so to speak, was her “job”; but she never grew one-sided; never forgot the man’s point of view. viiiNo woman ever took a saner and wider view of human affairs.

3. That was basically her “job,” but she never became one-dimensional; she never lost sight of the man’s perspective. viiiNo woman ever had a clearer and broader understanding of human affairs.

4. In spite of the heavy strain thrown by conflicting outlook and ideals on the relation between parents and child, the reader will see in the following pages how that relationship was preserved. This is perhaps the most remarkable thing in the whole history, and it is full of significance and helpful suggestion for us all in these critical days.

4. Despite the significant pressure created by differing views and values on the relationship between parents and their child, you'll see in the following pages how that relationship was maintained. This is possibly the most remarkable aspect of the entire story, and it carries important meaning and valuable insights for all of us in these challenging times.

5. And lastly, it proved impossible to write the life in any other way. When S. J.-B. was a young woman, Samuel Laurence was asked by her parents to make a crayon drawing of her. After some hours’ work, he threw down his pencil. “I must get you in oils or not at all,” he said.

5. And finally, it turned out to be impossible to write the life any other way. When S. J.-B. was a young woman, her parents asked Samuel Laurence to make a crayon drawing of her. After working for a few hours, he dropped his pencil. “I have to paint you in oils or not at all,” he said.

Those words have often been in the mind of the author of this book.

Those words have frequently been on the author's mind while writing this book.

PART I

CHAPTER I
		PAGE
Childhood		1
	Birth, parentage and descent—Early influences—“Sweet Sackermena.”

CHAPTER II
School Life		11
	A “terrible pickle”—Home letters—Holidays—“Poems”—A confession.

CHAPTER III
School Life—Continued		24
	Indifferent health—Various educational experiments—S. J.-B.’s character as seen by her schoolfellows.

CHAPTER IV
School Life—Concluded		35
	Leaves school abruptly—Fresh start—Illness of her mother and sister—Letter from her father—Confirmation.

CHAPTER V
Home Life		50
	Friendship with her mother—Dreams of authorship—Self-centred life—Makes acquaintance of Norfolk cousins.

xCHAPTER VI
Life at Queen's College		62
	Comes into touch with Feminist movement—Goes to Queen’s College—Friction—Hunt for lodgings—Is appointed mathematical tutor—Correspondence with her father as to accepting payment for her work—Certificate won “with great credit.”

CHAPTER VII
Friendship		78
	All-round development—Capacity for friendship and service—Friendship with Miss Octavia Hill.

CHAPTER VIII
One Step Further		95
	Confidence in her mother—Fresh dedication of her life.

CHAPTER IX
First Time in Edinburgh		103
	The problem of realizing the vision—Goes to study educational methods in Edinburgh—Chequered experiences—Church-going and religious difficulties—Consults Rev. Dr. Pulsford—Letters from her mother—An “increasing purpose.”

CHAPTER X
Germany		117
	Miss Garrett’s efforts to obtain medical education—Comes to prospect in Edinburgh—She and S. J.-B. go canvassing together—Disappointment—S. J.-B.’s desire to study educational methods farther afield—Germany—Göttingen—Mannheim—Appointed English teacher at Grand-ducal Institute.

CHAPTER XI
Life as a Teacher at Mannheim		129
	Letters to her mother—Success of her work—Transient wave of unpopularity—Letter to her mother on Biblical criticism.

xiCHAPTER XII
Various Projects and Ventures		147
	Return home delayed by scarlet fever—Death of a college friend—Mr. Plumptre recommends S. J.-B. as founder and Lady Principal of modern Girls’ School at Manchester.

CHAPTER XIII
A Visit to Some American Schools and Colleges		159
	Opposition of parents—Goes to Boston—Makes acquaintance of Dr. Lucy Sewall—R. W. Emerson—Dinner at the Emersons—Visits Niagara—Inspects various colleges (Oberlin, Hillsdale, St. Louis, Antioch) and schools—Correspondence with her brother—Views on American education.

CHAPTER XIV
Questions		172
	Gets to know women doctors in Boston—Assists with dispensing in New England Hospital for Women—Gradual initiation into hospital work—Heart-searchings as to her own future—Law?—The Ministry?—Religious difficulties—Medicine?

CHAPTER XV
Pioneering Work in America		188
	Writes “A Visit”—Published by Macmillan—Good reviews—Begins study of medicine—Application to Harvard—Letters from Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes and Dr. Brown-Séquard—Obtains clinical teaching in Massachusetts General Hospital—Goes to New York—Obtains private teaching in anatomy—Summing up of three years in America.

CHAPTER XVI
Going home		202
	Visit of Dr. Sewall to England—Rapprochement between S. J.-B. and her father—Dr. Elizabeth and Dr. Emily Blackwell found Medical College for Women in New York—S. J.-B. starts house-keeping and medical study there—Illness of her father—Return to England.


xiiPART II

CHAPTER I
Gliding		213

	Life at Brighton—Perplexities as to future education.

CHAPTER II
At the Gates of the Citadel		218
	Correspondence with Mrs. Butler, Professor Sidgwick and others as to possibility of University training—Goes to Edinburgh—Canvasses professors.

CHAPTER III
Success?		232
	Support of Scotsman—Formal application to Dean of Medical Faculty—Consent (a) of Medical Faculty, (b) of Senatus, to receive S. J.-B. as a student.


CHAPTER IV
A Test		242
	S. J.-B.’s run of popularity—Difficulties of situation—Decision of Senatus vetoed by University Court.

CHAPTER V
Opening of Edinburgh University to Women		253
	S. J.-B. reinforced by Mrs. Thorne and Miss Pechey—Dr. King Chambers tries—and fails—to get women admitted to St. Mary’s Hospital—Edinburgh University Court agrees to admit women to separate classes.

CHAPTER VI
The Hope Scholarship		262
	More lady students—Citizens of the Edinburgh Academy—Difficulty of getting teachers—Miss Pechey deprived of Hope Scholarship—Newspaper support and opposition—Differences among professors.

xiiiCHAPTER VII
Practical Challenges		276
	Science classes—Efforts to get anatomical teaching—Correspondence in the Lancet.

CHAPTER VIII
The Surgeons' Hall Riot		285
	Women begin study of anatomy—Apply for admission to Royal Infirmary—Opposition and support—The riot—Defence of women students by “Irish Brigade” and other friendly students—Great newspaper controversy—Annual Meeting of Royal Infirmary—Crowded audience—Removal to St. Giles’ Church—S. J.-B. speaks—The first woman since Jenny Geddes to speak in that place—Professor Christison’s protest and S. J.-B.’s retort—Hubbub—“Fighting with beasts at Ephesus”—Formation of “National Association.”

CHAPTER IX
The Libel Action		306
	Dr. Christison’s assistant brings action for libel against S. J.-B.—Her brother’s support—She speaks at suffrage meeting in London—Makes acquaintance of Rt. Hon. James Stansfeld—The action for libel—Damages one farthing, but heavy costs—Criticisms of the verdict.

CHAPTER X
Some Friendships and Holidays		320
	£1000 raised by public subscription to defray costs of action—S. J.-B. takes holiday in Paris—Commune—Visit of Dr. Lucy Sewall to England.

CHAPTER XI
The Issue of Professional Exam		330
	Continued practical difficulty in getting teaching and as to professional examination—Counsel’s opinion taken by both sides—Friendly professors and others—Women refused entrance to first professional examination, but in response to lawyer’s letter are admitted and pass—Move and countermove.

xivCHAPTER XII
The Royal Infirmary		340
	Marriage of several of the lady students—Continuance of struggle in Edinburgh together with enquiries as to chances elsewhere—Sympathy of Professor Sidgwick and Mr. James Stuart—Rev. Dr. Guthrie—Infirmary Annual Meeting again—Success of the Women’s party—“Ring out the old!”—Question of legality of votes of firms—Litigation—Success—S. J.-B. a public character.

CHAPTER XIII
The Action against the Senate		352
	Deadlock—Friends and well-wishers advise appeal to Court of Law—University Court suggests that lady matriculated students should give up right to graduation and be content with certificates of proficiency—S. J.-B. and others bring Action of Declarator against Senatus to define position—Much searching of archives for evidence—Senatus decides to defend action, but six professors dissent.

CHAPTER XIV
The Judge's Ruling		362
	S. J.-B. lectures in London on the whole situation—Lord Shaftesbury in chair—Difference with Mrs. Butler—S. J.-B. publishes Medical Women—Lord Ordinary decides substantially in favour of women students—Widespread congratulations.

CHAPTER XV
Paying the Price		377
	Many claims, medical, legal, journalistic, etc., on S. J.-B.—Gift of £1000 from Mr. Walter Thomson—S. J.-B. is rejected in first professional examination—Newspaper interest and enquiries—Sympathy.

CHAPTER XVI
Conclusion of the Battle in Edinburgh		388
xv	Interest of Rt. Hon. James Stansfeld—Introduces S. J.-B. to some of his colleagues in the Cabinet—S. J.-B. works hard and successfully for first election of women on Edinburgh School Board—University appeals against Lord Ordinary’s decision—Persevering efforts of all the women students to get on with their education somehow and somewhere—St. Andrews—Durham—Ireland—Edinburgh Court of Session (thirteen judges) decides by narrow majority in favour of University—The judgment of the Lord Justice Clerk.

CHAPTER XVII
The Question in Parliament		398
	Increasing public and newspaper interest and criticism—Mrs. Anderson writes to Times, strongly advising women to study abroad and practise without registration—S. J.-B. replies—University censured in press—Apologia of Principal and S. J.-B.’s reply—Sir David Wedderburn’s notice of Bill to reduce vote to Scottish Universities by amount of salaries of Edinburgh professors withdrawn on hearing of Lord Ordinary’s judgment—S. J.-B. again interviews Home Secretary and members of Cabinet—Things looking well when Gladstone dissolves Parliament and appeals to country!—S. J.-B. interviews Mr. Russell Gurney and others—At Mr. Cowper Temple’s request she and her solicitor draft “A Bill to remove doubts as to the power of Scottish Universities”—She is summoned to London to discuss matter—Bill introduced and sixty-five petitions at once presented in its favour—Fails to get through—In debate on motion the two members for Edinburgh (Town and Gown) join issue.

CHAPTER XVIII
The London School of Medicine for Women		415
	Discussion in Parliament calls all latent opposition into play—S. J.-B.’s failure to pass examination used as weapon against the women—She questions justice of rejection—A great mistake—Reproaches—By advice of Dr. Anstie and Mr. Norton she founds the London School of Medicine for Women—Miss Irby’s visit to it.

CHAPTER XIX
The Russell Gurney Act		423
xvi	Difference between S. J.-B. and Mrs. Anderson, who nevertheless joins Council of School—Mr. Cowper Temple brings forward his Bill again, and, after defeat, brings forward a “Foreign Degrees Bill,” which is also defeated—Lord Sandon on behalf of Government admits importance of question—Mr. Simon suggests that women should qualify by means of examination in Midwifery only, as was then possible—This agreed to after legal enquiries, and the women students send in their names, but examiners resign—S. J.-B.’s longing to break away and do rough hospital work in Bosnia—Deputation to President of Privy Council—“Foreign Degrees Bill” again defeated, but Government intimate to Mr. Russell Gurney that he should bring in an “Enabling Bill”—Though late in session this passes and becomes law—Miss Pechey and Miss Shove induce Irish College to avail itself of ability conferred by new Act—The Woman Hater.

CHAPTER XX
Finally		436
	S. J.-B. and Miss Pechey study and graduate at Berne, and obtain Licence of Irish College.

CHAPTER XXI
Royal Free Hospital		441
	Hospital training still refused to the women coming on—Mr. Stansfeld introduces S. J.-B. to Chairman of Royal Free Hospital, whom he has already interested in the matter—R.F.H. opened to women—Opening of London University to women—In organisation of London School for Women, S. J.-B. is set aside—Mrs. Thorne becomes Hon. Secretary—persona grata—Retrospect.


PART III

CHAPTER I
Starting Out in Practice		455
	Special difficulties of women doctors in general and of S. J.-B. in particular—Opens Dispensary—Assistance of distinguished Edinburgh doctors—Early success—Letters to colleagues and friends—Views on Suffrage and on life in general.

CHAPTER II
Mrs. Jex-Blake's Final Illness		470
	S. J.-B. called south for last time—Unavailing efforts—Death of Mrs. Jex-Blake.

xviiCHAPTER III
Patients and Friends		476
	S. J.-B. removes to Bruntsfield Lodge—Letters to old friends—Interest in education of girls—Views on problems and mysteries of life—Paying and non-paying guests—Beginnings of Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children—Her love of poetry—Her books.

CHAPTER IV
Public Life		490
	Interest in all public questions relating to women—Too masterful and uncompromising in working with others—Publishes The Care of Infants—Her coöperation much in demand in parliamentary business—Assists Edinburgh lecturers in their efforts to obtain charter—Efforts fail, but examinations of Conjoint Colleges thrown open to women—Re-publication of Medical Women—The Englishwoman’s Year Book—Health Lecture to Women—Founding of Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women—Its difficulties—Opposition.

CHAPTER V
Reopening of Edinburgh University to Women		502
	S. J.-B. writes article for Nineteenth Century—Views on marriage, etc.—Her Hindu students—Appointed a lecturer on Midwifery in the Extra-Mural School—Death of Dr. Lucy Sewall—S. J.-B.’s renewed efforts to gain admission for women to St. Andrews—Final appeal to her own Alma Mater “to decide a question which has been under consideration for twenty-five years”—Success—Congratulations from members of “National Association”—S. J.-B.’s characteristics as doctor and as citizen.

CHAPTER VI
Road Trips. Animal Buddies		513

CHAPTER VII
The Year of Rest		523
	Search for a suitable house—Send-off from friends in Edinburgh—Windydene—Life in retirement—Fruit-growing—Dairy—Friends—Books—Winters abroad—Interest in public affairs—Distrust of Germany—Suffrage—Death of Professor Masson—S. J.-B.’s religious attitude—Health—Last illness.

xviiiAPPENDICES

A.	Pedigree of the Jex-Blake family. Origin of compound surname	543

B.	“Words for the Way.”—No. 2. Rest	544

C.	Conclusions from “A Visit to American Schools and Colleges”	548

D.	The Edinburgh Extra-Mural School	551

E.	Letter to the Times in reply to Mrs. Garrett Anderson	552

F.	Letter to the Times in reply to the Principal of Edinburgh University	555

G.	Permanent Memorials of S. J.-B.	563

	Table of Contents	565

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Sophia Jex-Blake		Frontispiece
	From a painting by Samuel Laurence

Thomas Jex-Blake		To face p. 70
	From a drawing in chalks by Henry T. Wells, R.A.

Maria Emily Jex-Blake		”	384
	From a drawing in chalks by Henry T. Wells, R.A.

Sophia Jex-Blake		”	484

PART I

Our great interest in biography is due to the desire to see that the “child is father to the man”; in other words, to see how, from boyhood to manhood and from manhood to old age, through all change of circumstances and all widening of intellectual and practical interests, we can detect the same unique, individual nature, and link each new expression of it in speech and action with that which preceded it.

Our strong interest in biography comes from the desire to understand that "the child is father to the man." In other words, we want to see how, from childhood to adulthood and from adulthood to old age, despite all the changes in circumstances and the broadening of our intellectual and practical interests, we can recognize the same unique, individual personality and connect each new expression of it in speech and action with what came before.

Edward Caird.

CHAPTER I
CHILDHOOD

Sophia Jex-Blake was born on the 21st January, 1840. “How happy I was with my Baby this time two and twenty years ago!” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake on the 21st January, 1862, and, if she had greater cause than some mothers for the plaintive note that one seems to hear through the words, she was the first to rejoice in her great compensations.

Sophia Jex-Blake was born on January 21, 1840. “How happy I was with my baby this time twenty-two years ago!” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake on January 21, 1862, and, if she had more reason than some mothers to express a touch of sadness in her words, she was the first to celebrate her significant blessings.

Certainly no baby ever had a warmer welcome into the world. At the time of her birth, her father, Mr. Thomas Jex-Blake, a proctor of Doctors’ Commons, was living the life of a retired gentleman with his wife at 3 Croft Place, Hastings. Both parents, though no longer young, and in some ways older than their years, were devotedly fond of children, and a number of disappointments had shadowed their married life. In January, 1840, their son, Thomas William, was eight years of age, and their daughter, Caroline, a staid little maiden of six. The home was crying out for a real baby, and all were prepared to treat the newcomer as a little queen.

Certainly no baby ever had a warmer welcome into the world. When she was born, her father, Mr. Thomas Jex-Blake, a proctor of Doctors’ Commons, was living the life of a retired gentleman with his wife at 3 Croft Place, Hastings. Both parents, although no longer young and somewhat older than their years, were deeply fond of children, and a number of disappointments had cast a shadow over their married life. In January 1840, their son, Thomas William, was eight years old, and their daughter, Caroline, was a serious little girl of six. The home was longing for a real baby, and everyone was ready to treat the newcomer like a little queen.

And most royally did the little queen step into the position lying at her feet. There was no doubt at all that she meant to live. She was vital to the finger-tips, a thoroughly wholesome little animal, with a pair of great luminous eyes, too mature for a baby, though they retained the child look for three score years and ten.

And the little queen stepped into the role that was laid out for her without hesitation. It was clear that she was determined to thrive. She was full of life, an entirely healthy little creature, with a pair of big, bright eyes that seemed too wise for a baby, even though they kept their youthful spark for seventy years.

The Baby came of an excellent stock.^[1] On both sides she was descended from well-known Norfolk families, whose 2lineage will be found in Burke’s Landed Gentry. Her father was the son of William Jex-Blake of Swanton Abbots, and her mother the daughter of Thomas Cubitt of Honing Hall. It sounds old-world and picturesque, like Trollope’s novels or a landscape by Constable.

The baby came from an excellent lineage.^[1] On both sides, she was descended from well-known Norfolk families, whose 2ancestors are listed in Burke’s Landed Gentry. Her father was the son of William Jex-Blake of Swanton Abbots, and her mother was the daughter of Thomas Cubitt of Honing Hall. It sounds charming and nostalgic, like novels by Trollope or a painting by Constable.

On the other hand, the Baby—as in later years she never tired of saying—“came in with the penny post.” New ideas were surging up on every side. When one thinks of her parentage, her heredity, and the tendencies of the world outside, one can scarcely imagine a more varied lot of elements from which to build up a life. Of the fairies who came to her christening, some brought great gifts, and some great opportunities, and, when the cradle was full, one can almost hear them say,—“What now, little girl, will you make of that?”

On the other hand, the Baby—as she often mentioned in later years—“came in with the penny post.” New ideas were popping up everywhere. Considering her background, her inheritance, and the influences of the world around her, it's hard to picture a more diverse set of elements to shape a life. Of the fairies who showed up at her christening, some brought wonderful gifts, and some brought amazing opportunities, and when the cradle was full, you can almost hear them ask, “What now, little girl, will you do with all that?”

Of all the gifts we know well which she considered the greatest. “No child ever had better parents than I!” “How I wish you had known my Mother!” Such words were constantly on her lips. Throughout life, when she was making holiday, she loved to go back to old Hastings, to point out to some intimate friend the house where she was born, the church—St. Clement’s—where she was baptised; to wander about the old castle, and note the very rocks which had afforded the most delightful scrambling-ground when she was a child. There was a special point in some country walk associated with the picture of her Father bending his tall figure to hold her hand, while he talked to her of “the terrible things people were doing in France.”

Of all the gifts she cherished the most, she always said, “No child ever had better parents than I!” She often exclaimed, “I wish you had known my mother!” These phrases were always on her lips. Throughout her life, during her vacations, she loved to return to old Hastings, to show close friends the house where she was born, the church—St. Clement’s—where she was baptized; to wander around the old castle and recall the very rocks that provided the best climbing spots when she was a child. There was a particular spot on some country walk that reminded her of her father bending down to hold her hand while he spoke to her about “the awful things people were doing in France.”

“No one ever had a happier childhood than I.”

“No one ever had a happier childhood than I did.”

In many ways she was extraordinarily fortunate in her parents. One cannot go through the long series of carefully preserved letters written to their youngest child without feeling tempted to say that better people never lived. Absolutely upright in all their dealings, devoted and unselfish in their affection, single-heartedly religious, regarding themselves strictly as stewards of the wealth Providence had bestowed on them, they really were the fine flower of old Evangelical Anglicanism. One seldom sees a husband and wife so entirely of one mind as to what are the things that matter. 3And if the Mother—Maria Emily Cubitt—was the one to bring to the union the keen wit, the happy humour, which her children inherited and loved to recall, her husband was the first to acknowledge and rejoice in her gifts. He was her proud lover to the day of his death. Family tradition made it a matter of course that they should have a luxurious home, and that all the appointments of their life should be good, but the note of self-denial was always telling resolutely and unobtrusively. It was her younger daughter’s boast in later years that Mrs. Jex-Blake “would have made a splendid poor man’s wife;” and the vulgar criticism was significant of their whole attitude towards life, that “the Jex-Blake’s carriage was as fine as any in the place, but there was always a poor person in it”.

In many ways, she was incredibly lucky to have her parents. It's hard to get through the long series of carefully saved letters written to their youngest child without thinking that better people never existed. They were completely honest in all their dealings, dedicated and selfless in their love, genuinely religious, and considered themselves strictly as caretakers of the wealth that Providence had given them; they truly represented the best of old Evangelical Anglicanism. You rarely see a husband and wife so aligned on what truly matters. 3 And while the mother—Maria Emily Cubitt—brought to the marriage her sharp wit and joyful humor, which her children cherished and loved to remember, her husband was the first to acknowledge and celebrate her talents. He was her proud admirer until the day he passed away. Family tradition made having a comfortable home a given, and they ensured that every aspect of their life was of high quality, but they always maintained a sense of self-denial quietly and resolutely. In later years, her younger daughter would proudly say that Mrs. Jex-Blake “would have made a fantastic wife for a poor man;” and the common criticism that “the Jex-Blake’s carriage was as fine as any in town, but there was always a poor person in it” reflected their overall attitude towards life.

What made this attitude all the finer was the fact that neither husband nor wife was ever tempted to undervalue social distinctions. It was noblesse oblige always,—the noblesse of family as much as the noblesse of Christ.

What made this attitude even more admirable was the fact that neither the husband nor the wife was ever tempted to underestimate social differences. It was noblesse oblige always—the nobility of family as much as the nobility of Christ.

Surely better people never lived, and yet, as human standards go, the world which they built around them was scarcely a spacious world. “I have learnt far more from my children than they ever learned from me,” Mrs. Jex-Blake used to say with characteristic generosity in her old age, and hers was one of the minds that grow and develop up to the last: but in some ways the Evangelicalism of her middle life—even with the advantage of her most gracious representation of its tenets—was a cramping thing. While Caroline and Sophia were still in the nursery, their parents had resolved, from the best of motives, to deny them the social advantages which their mother had enjoyed before them. Dancing and theatre-going were wrong; novels were mainly trash; Punch was “vulgar”. “Christ’s kingdom” was the one thing worth considering—Christ’s kingdom as represented by the popular preachers of the day. “The mission field” was the great object of enthusiasm. After reading much contemporary correspondence one is tempted to say that the making of pen-wipers and book-markers for missionary bazaars was the work fitly to be expected of a Christian gentleman’s daughter.

Surely better people never existed, and yet, by human standards, the world they created around them was hardly spacious. “I’ve learned far more from my kids than they ever learned from me,” Mrs. Jex-Blake would say with her usual generosity in her old age, and hers was one of those minds that continue to evolve right until the end. However, in some ways, the Evangelicalism of her middle years—even with her most gracious interpretation of its beliefs—was restrictive. While Caroline and Sophia were still young children, their parents decided, with the best intentions, to deny them the social advantages that their mother had enjoyed before them. Dancing and going to the theater were considered wrong; novels were mostly trash; Punch was deemed “vulgar.” “Christ’s kingdom” was the only thing worth discussing—Christ’s kingdom as portrayed by the popular preachers of the time. “The mission field” was the great cause of passion. After going through much contemporary correspondence, one might be tempted to say that making pen-wipers and book-markers for missionary sales was the sort of work expected of a Christian gentleman’s daughter.

4From her cradle the elder sister seems to have accepted this view of life. Her fine and massive intellect bowed to the limitations imposed upon it. Her strong character asserted itself in many ways, but never so as to give her parents the proverbial “hour’s anxiety”.

4From her cradle, the older sister seems to have embraced this perspective on life. Her impressive and strong intellect accepted the boundaries placed on it. Her resilient character showed in many ways, but she never gave her parents the typical “hour’s anxiety.”

And, for better or worse, into this atmosphere Sophia Jex-Blake was born. One can scarcely wonder that she came as a little queen. “Brother” was already at school, his foot on the first step of a brilliant career; “Sweet Carrie” was all that loving parents expected her to be; the new thing came as a complete surprise. The freshness, the wilfulness, the naughtiness of her were as the wine of life to these staid, law-abiding people. It took their breath away sometimes, but it was all on so small a scale, and were not all the forces of religion in reserve to check any undue waywardness as soon as she was old enough to understand?

And, for better or worse, in this atmosphere Sophia Jex-Blake was born. It’s no surprise that she arrived like a little queen. “Brother” was already in school, stepping onto the path of a successful career; “Sweet Carrie” was everything their loving parents hoped for; the new addition was a complete shock. Her freshness, stubbornness, and mischief were like the spice of life to these serious, law-abiding people. Sometimes it took their breath away, but it was all on such a small scale, and weren’t all the forces of religion there to keep any excess mischief in check as soon as she was old enough to understand?

The earliest samples of her handwriting are two letters addressed to her brother,—undated, but written laboriously in “half-text” between double lines. The quotation and punctuation marks are added by another hand.

The earliest examples of her handwriting are two letters addressed to her brother—undated, but written with great effort in “half-text” between double lines. The quotation and punctuation marks are added by someone else.

“dear Bro,
Your note was much ‘amiss,’
But as you sent sixpence,
I pardon the offence,
And kindly send you this.
S. L. J. B.”

and again:

“dear Brother,

“dear Bro,

I must say I think you very impertinent, however I condescend to write to you. If you write a word more nonsense your head shall be off. I am your humble servant grand mogul.”

I must say I think you’re very rude, yet I’m willing to write to you. If you say one more silly thing, I'll have your head. I am your humble servant, grand mogul.

“Entirely her own composition” is the postscript added in her father’s handwriting.

“Entirely her own composition” is the note added in her father’s handwriting.

No doubt they spoilt her, and she must still have been very young when her audacity and wilfulness began to cause her parents real anxiety. In January, 1847, her Mother writes:

No doubt they spoiled her, and she must have still been very young when her bravado and stubbornness started to really worry her parents. In January 1847, her mother writes:

“Dear Sophy,

“Dear Sophy,”

I am very pleased with your marker, I think it nicely done for you. I wish you many happy returns of your birthday—now 5you are seven years old I hope you will pray for the Holy Spirit to keep you from sin, from disobedience, and from violence of temper. I send you as a text for your birthday 16 Proverbs 32, and I trust you will try hard to act upon it.... I hope you take all the care you can of dear Papa—he says you are very good. Brother sends love.

I’m really happy with your marker; I think it’s really nice for you. I wish you lots of happy birthdays—now that you’re seven years old, I hope you pray for the Holy Spirit to keep you away from sin, disobedience, and losing your temper. I’m sending you Proverbs 16:32 as a birthday verse, and I hope you work hard to follow it. I also hope you take good care of dear Papa—he says you’re very good. Brother sends his love.

I am your affectionate Mother,

Maria Emily Jex-Blake.”

A day or two later she writes again:

A couple of days later, she writes again:

“I am very glad to hear you had such a happy birthday—how kind in Mary to give you that nice tea-pot. I hope you remember to thank God for giving you so many kind friends. Be sure to take all the care you can of dear Papa, and if he takes you for a walk do not let him talk.

“I’m really glad to hear you had such a great birthday—how thoughtful of Mary to give you that lovely tea pot. I hope you remember to thank God for all your wonderful friends. Make sure to take good care of dear Papa, and if he takes you for a walk, try to keep him quiet.”

I miss Papa’s nice explaining God’s word every morning at prayers, you must tell me what it has been about.

I miss Papa’s way of explaining God’s word every morning during prayers; you have to tell me what it was about.

We like Brighton and I think I am stronger, but we shall be very glad to be home again. I hope Mary takes care about the poor people’s broth and the puddings for the sick children. I long to see all my poor friends again, but I trust some one visits them and that they do not miss me. Papa must go and read with Mrs. P. when he is able and with Mrs. C.... Ask Mr. Macleane to bring you back with him in his pocket, when he returns on Monday. Show him how quiet you can be.”

We like Brighton, and I think I’m stronger now, but we’ll be really happy to be home again. I hope Mary is careful with the broth for the needy and the puddings for the sick kids. I can’t wait to see all my friends again, but I hope someone is checking on them and that they don’t miss me. Dad needs to go read with Mrs. P. when he can and with Mrs. C.... Ask Mr. Macleane to bring you back with him in his pocket when he comes back on Monday. Show him how quiet you can be.

It is clear the teaching of religion had already begun, if indeed there was ever a time when it had not,—the teaching of such genuine heartfelt religion!—under symbols that never were suited to the mind of a sensitive child. So it is not surprising that she was not always the Grand Mogul, poor little soul! The next papers that survive are in a totally different vein. They are written when she was seven or eight years old, and the handwriting, though far from beautiful, is much better formed.

It’s obvious that the teaching of religion had already started, if there was ever a time when it hadn’t—real, heartfelt religion—using symbols that were never appropriate for a sensitive child’s mind. So it’s not surprising that she didn’t always act like the Grand Mogul, poor little thing! The next documents that still exist have a completely different tone. They were written when she was seven or eight years old, and although the handwriting isn’t very pretty, it is much better formed.

“Dear Mrs. Blake,

“Hi Mrs. Blake,

I wish you would be so kind as to come and see me every night in Bed-ford-shire at least tonight on Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday and next Sunday after tomorrow. I require an answer to this note (letter) even if you do come tonight. There are now so many railroads that you can get to Bedfordshire in one minute. Please send ‘Madam Mary’ with this and then come up.

I would really appreciate it if you could come and see me every night in Bedfordshire, starting tonight and continuing through the week, including next Sunday. I need you to reply to this note even if you do visit tonight. There are so many railroads that you can reach Bedfordshire in just a minute. Please send 'Madam Mary' with this and then come up.

Grandaflorer.”

6The true inwardness of this request appears in a private paper probably of an earlier date, folded up and labelled on the outside, “A Prayer to be Said After an unhappy Night.”

6The real depth of this request shows up in a private document, likely written earlier, folded and labeled on the outside, “A Prayer to be Said After an Unhappy Night.”

“Oh Lord I beseech Thee take away my fears of a night, for Thou alone knowest what miseries I this night have suffered. O Lord, I beseech Thee this day enable me to behave as I ought. O Lord, I beseech Thee to make me a Christain child ... take away my doubts and fears....”

“Oh Lord, I ask You to take away my fears of the night, for You alone know the troubles I’ve faced tonight. O Lord, I ask You today to help me act as I should. O Lord, I ask You to make me a Christian child ... take away my doubts and fears....”

In the next letter—endorsed by her Mother, “7th May, 1848”—she says,

In the next letter—endorsed by her mother, “May 7, 1848”—she says,

“I whant to tell you that I feel so much less fear of a night....

“I want to tell you that I feel so much less fear at night....

“I will never say again (as I fear I often have) that God does not hear my prayer or that I do not derive comfort from it.... Please (for you say please wins everything) do not show this to anybody not even to dear Papa.

“I will never say again (as I’m afraid I often have) that God doesn’t hear my prayer or that I don’t find comfort in it.... Please (because you say please wins everything) don’t show this to anyone, not even to dear Papa."

S. L. B.”^[2]

Clearly the child at this time was learning to read and write. Of any formal teaching no record has been kept, but, if anything of the kind existed, it can have made no great demand on her brain power, which began at this time to find expression in a somewhat unusual way.

Clearly, the child was learning to read and write during this time. There are no records of any formal teaching, but if there was any, it likely didn't require much from her brain, which was starting to express itself in a somewhat unique way.

In common with most children, she dreamed dreams, but her dreams were not the random visions of an hour. They were singularly coherent and consecutive, aiming at nothing less than the construction of an ideal state ruled by a “despotic emperor” in some wonderful islands lying in an unknown sea. She was unable to throw the creations of her brain into anything like literary form, but numberless papers have been preserved, varying from large official-looking blue foolscap sheets giving the “constitution” of the state, down to tiny scraps about the minutest detail connected with it.

Like most kids, she had dreams, but hers weren't just random visions. They were incredibly coherent and followed a clear storyline, focusing on nothing less than building an ideal state ruled by a "tyrannical emperor" on some amazing islands in an unknown sea. She couldn't translate her imaginative ideas into anything resembling a literary format, but countless papers have been kept, ranging from large, official-looking blue sheets detailing the "constitution" of the state to tiny scraps covering the smallest details related to it.

There are many maps of the islands, of which the largest, Sackermena, gave its name to the group; and these are supplemented by numberless poems in which she strove to give expression to the feelings her Utopia aroused in her mind. Poetry never came easy to her, dearly as she loved it.

There are many maps of the islands, with the largest, Sackermena, giving its name to the group. These are backed up by countless poems where she tried to express the feelings that her Utopia inspired in her mind. Poetry never came easily to her, even though she loved it dearly.

7She begins gallantly many times: (We all know the experience.)

7She tries bravely many times: (We all know how that feels.)

“See how pretily the sunbeams dance
Upon the fair waves of Speed-the-lance
See the Waters of Gold!”

and again,

“See Lord Grandaflora brave

Fighting his country and life to save....”

and again,

“See how gently Mordisca rules

O’er Sackermena and her pooles....”

or is it “fooles”?—The writing is very bad.

or is it “fools”?—The writing is really poor.

On the whole the most delightful stanza is the one that was probably the first,

On the whole, the most enjoyable stanza is likely the one that was first,

“Sweet Sackermena and her isles
See how many yards and miles
It takes to go round Sackermena!”

No, poetry never came easy to her.

No, poetry never came easily to her.

When she tackles the constitution of the state, however, her work is on a totally different level. She gives us the officers, “Military, Civil, and Judicial,” the standing army, standing navy, Men of War and frigates, and vessels “in rest, ready to be raised.” From this we go on to Prisons, Castles, Laws, Parliament, Guards, etc. The population varies greatly in different schemes. In one, by a stroke of genius, all innocent of that terrible Woman Question in which she was to play so prominent a part, she says:—Men, 7,000,000; Women, 5,000,000. Truly an ideal state!

When she examines the state's constitution, though, her work is on an entirely different level. She outlines the officials—“Military, Civil, and Judicial”—the standing army, the standing navy, warships, and frigates, along with vessels “in dock, ready to be launched.” From there, we move on to prisons, castles, laws, Parliament, guards, etc. The population varies widely in different scenarios. In one brilliant stroke, completely avoiding the complex Woman Question that she would later become a central figure in, she states:—Men, 7,000,000; Women, 5,000,000. Truly an ideal state!

There are many codes of laws, drawn up to meet one contingency after another. The following are picked out almost at random:

There are lots of laws created to handle various situations. Here are a few selected almost at random:

“The Despotic Emperor has authority that none may dispute and none may appear in his presence without his gracious permission save his sons and Lord Field Marshall, also the chief general the high Admiral the high Treasurer, high Chancellor, Secretary of state and the Chief Justice.”

“The Despotic Emperor has authority that no one can challenge, and no one can appear in his presence without his kind permission except for his sons, Lord Field Marshall, the chief general, the high Admiral, the high Treasurer, high Chancellor, Secretary of State, and the Chief Justice.”

“Succession to the Crown. It is at the option of the Reigning Despotic Emperor to name his successor but if he dies without 8making any choice it descends to the eldest son but if he has no son the crown is placed on the head of the eldest daughter unless 12 strong reasons can be urged to the contrary and accepted by Parliament. If he has no offspring it does not descend to the next relation but it is in the power of the parliament to give it to whoever it pleases.”

“Succession to the Crown. The current Despotic Emperor has the choice to name his successor, but if he dies without making a selection, the crown goes to the eldest son. If there is no son, the crown is given to the eldest daughter unless there are strong reasons against it that Parliament accepts. If he has no children, the crown does not go to the next relative, but Parliament has the authority to give it to whoever they want.”

“Robery shall always be punished by the culprits restoring fourfold or if utterly unable to pay this as many days imprisonment as there are shillings in the forfeit.”

“Robbery will always be punished by the offenders paying back four times the value stolen, or if they're completely unable to pay, they will serve as many days in prison as the amount of shillings in the fine.”

“Intentional murder and personal injury shall be punished by injuries precisely similar.”

“Intentional murder and personal injury will be punished with similar injuries.”

“If any man conceals the persons mentioned in the preceding laws he is punished half as much as the offender.”

“If anyone hides the individuals mentioned in the previous laws, they will be punished half as much as the offender.”

“That every English or Scotchman that is travelling with a passport shall be supplied with provisions cost free. And every Frenchman shall have things for half and every Dutchman quarter price. Any one infringing this law is liable to be forced into the army with the possibility of advancement or to be imprisoned for two years.”

“That every Englishman or Scotsman traveling with a passport shall receive provisions at no cost. Every Frenchman shall pay half price, and every Dutchman shall pay a quarter of the price. Anyone who breaks this law is subject to being drafted into the army with the chance for advancement or to face imprisonment for two years.”

“No judge shall ever condemn a man to death without the knowledge of Lord Trican. An infringement of this law shall be visited by confiscation of all his estates except (if he have it) 250 to his wife and 300 to each of his children; besides his being degraded from office and receiving 30 stripes in the public square of St. Anhola.”

“No judge shall ever sentence a man to death without informing Lord Trican. Breaking this law will result in the loss of all his property except for (if applicable) 250 to his wife and 300 to each of his children; in addition to being removed from office and receiving 30 lashes in the public square of St. Anhola.”

“All disobedience to officers shall be punished by flogging. 1st offence 20 strokes, 2nd. 34, 3rd. 40, 4th. imprisonment 4 months, 5th. 14 months, 6th. Death.”

“All disobedience to officers will be punished by whipping. 1st offense 20 strokes, 2nd 34, 3rd 40, 4th imprisonment for 4 months, 5th 14 months, 6th death.”

“If any sentinel be found asleep in the camp he shall be shot with blank cartridges and imprised 15 months. The second offence he shall be shot really.”

“If any guard is caught sleeping in the camp, he will be shot with blank cartridges and imprisoned for 15 months. For the second offense, he will be shot for real.”

“Spirits or strong drink not being allowed in either army or navy any person having any shall be shot with blank cartridges and the second offence he shall receive 20 strokes and 1 months imprisonment, 3rd. 32 strokes and 4 months imprisonment. 4th. Death.”

“Since neither the army nor the navy is allowed to have alcohol, anyone found with it will be shot with blank cartridges. For a second offense, they will receive 20 lashes and 1 month of imprisonment. For a third offense, it’s 32 lashes and 4 months of imprisonment. For a fourth offense, it’s death.”

“In time of war when the standing army is not sufficient to resist the enemy’s forces 350 soldiers and 4 captains and 10 lieutenants shall be sent to raise the ready militia to the amount required; if this is not enough every man above 20 and under 80 compose the Possiblees which is raised in great danger, but 2,500,000 must be left (all able bodied men) to take care of the kingdom.”

“In times of war when the standing army is not enough to fight the enemy’s forces, 350 soldiers, 4 captains, and 10 lieutenants will be sent to gather the militia to the needed amount. If this isn’t sufficient, every man between 20 and 80 will be called upon, making up the Possiblees, which is raised in times of great danger, but 2,500,000 must be left (all able-bodied men) to take care of the kingdom.”

In many respects this state was a primitive one. When certain announcements were to be made, “a large bell is rung which is heard to the distance of 23 miles,” or “an enormous 9bonfire is made in the palace gardens of Mt. Gilbow [!] which is perhaps seen to a greater distance.”

In many ways, this state was quite basic. When there were important announcements, “a large bell is rung that can be heard up to 23 miles away,” or “a huge bonfire is lit in the palace gardens of Mt. Gilbow [!] which can likely be seen from even further away.”

This is fine:

This is okay.

“The Despotic Emperor is the grand Law-giver General Judge Sage Physician and in short the Father of his vast dominions.”

“The Despotic Emperor is the great lawmaker, the chief judge, the wise healer, and basically the father of his huge empire.”

In spite of the mass of prosaic detail as to dress, provisions, etc., there is sometimes a hint of the supernatural about the whole thing. The dotted lines between the islands in one of the maps indicate “invisible bridges”, and in a request to “Victoria and Prince Albert” that a governor may be sent from England to “controll the foreigners who wilfully destroy the peace and comfort of this happy and well-governed realm,” we are told that “if this wish is complied with, the Most Gracious Despotic Emperor, Phrampton Omail Grandiflora,^[3] will stand the friend of your kingdoms on earth and admit 20 of your subjects to his unearthly Kingdom.”

Despite the overwhelming amount of mundane details about clothing, food supplies, and so on, there’s sometimes a suggestion of the supernatural throughout. The dotted lines connecting the islands on one of the maps represent “invisible bridges,” and in a request to “Victoria and Prince Albert” for a governor to be sent from England to “control the foreigners who deliberately disrupt the peace and comfort of this happy and well-governed realm,” we are told that “if this wish is granted, the Most Gracious Despotic Emperor, Phrampton Omail Grandiflora,^[3] will be a friend to your kingdoms on earth and allow 20 of your subjects into his unearthly Kingdom.”

A great impetus to the whole conception may possibly have been given by a tour which the child was fortunate enough to make with her parents and sister to Warwickshire and thence to Scotland in June, 1850, a tour of which further particulars will be found in the next chapter. In the course of her very conscientiously kept diary, she says, “We read the Lady of the Lake aloud,” and she herself is reading “Ivanhoe, one of the Waverley novels.”

A significant boost to the entire idea might have come from a trip that the child was lucky enough to take with her parents and sister to Warwickshire and then to Scotland in June 1850. More details about this trip can be found in the next chapter. In her well-kept diary, she writes, “We read the Lady of the Lake aloud,” and she herself is reading “Ivanhoe, one of the Waverley novels.”

There is no proof, however, that any part of her Utopia was sketched after this tour, and a great part of it was certainly written before.

There is no evidence, however, that any part of her Utopia was created after this trip, and a significant portion of it was definitely written beforehand.

On the whole, perhaps, the most remarkable thing in connection with “Sackermena and her Isles” is the staying power shown by the writer in developing her idea, and her determination to get everything down on paper. In this more than in anything else the child was father of the man.

Overall, one of the most impressive aspects of "Sackermena and her Isles" is the writer's persistence in fully developing her idea and her commitment to recording everything. In this respect more than anything else, the child truly shaped the adult.

S. J.-B. was a born chronicler.

S. J.-B. was a natural storyteller.

As regards Sackermena, the idea certainly afforded no lack of scope and variety. What with drawing maps, writing 10poetry, framing laws, adding up the totals of her army and reserves, devising for the soldiery “A dark red long coat with silver falcons, and thick leather buskins studden with iron,” and many another guise equally picturesque,—she certainly did not suffer from monotony in her self-chosen occupation. And the above examples by no means exhaust its possibilities. On a stray slip of paper we come upon a formal complaint from a “justice,” who, “passing in disguise through Pe,” was supplied with a loaf deficient in weight; and a tiny booklet (laboriously stitched together by the writer’s hot little hands) has the following title page:

As for Sackermena, the concept definitely offered plenty of room for creativity and variety. Between drawing maps, writing poetry, creating laws, calculating the totals of her army and reserves, designing a “dark red long coat with silver falcons and thick leather boots studded with iron,” and many other equally striking outfits, she certainly didn’t experience boredom in her chosen work. And the examples above don’t even cover all the possibilities. On a torn piece of paper, we find a formal complaint from a “justice,” who, “disguised while passing through Pe,” was given a loaf that was underweight; and a small booklet (painstakingly stitched together by the writer’s eager hands) has the following title page:

THE SACKERMENEE'S

Pocketbook

Containing many Little Accounts

of their Customs

Published by S. L. Blake & Co.

Hastings 1848

Jan. 1850

The two dates seem to indicate that Sackermena flourished for perhaps two years; but the Pocket Book itself was not a hardy plant. The big foolscap sheets were clearly more stimulating to the imagination.

The two dates suggest that Sackermena thrived for maybe two years; however, the Pocket Book itself wasn't very durable. The larger foolscap sheets were obviously more inspiring to the imagination.

The thing is child’s work throughout. From first to last it bears no trace of grown-up criticism; nor is there then or afterwards any note by her parents, teachers or friends, referring in even the most distant way to the faerie region in which the little girl must have spent so much of her time.

The whole thing feels like it's done by a child. From start to finish, it shows no signs of adult judgment; there are also no comments from her parents, teachers, or friends, even in the slightest way, mentioning the magical world where the little girl must have spent so much of her time.

Another thing strikes one incidentally—considering the atmosphere in which the child was brought up—as rather curious. There is no mention of clergy at Sackermena, nor of any form of church. We are not even told that nothing of the kind existed.

Another thing that stands out, given the environment the child grew up in, is quite interesting. There's no mention of clergy at Sackermena, or any type of church. We're not even informed that such things didn't exist.

Note again that the Despotic Emperor was the grand Lawgiver, General, Judge, Sage, Physician, and, in short, the Father, of his vast dominions.

Note again that the Despotic Emperor was the great Lawgiver, General, Judge, Sage, Physician, and, in short, the Father of his large empire.

CHAPTER II
SCHOOL LIFE

“You often say how happy you were as a child,” an intimate friend remarked once to Dr. Jex-Blake, “but you never talk of your school life. I expect you were a terrible pickle?”

“You often say how happy you were as a child,” a close friend once told Dr. Jex-Blake, “but you never mention your school life. I bet you were quite the troublemaker?”

“Specs so,” was the laconic response, and the subject dropped.

“Specs so,” was the brief response, and the subject was dropped.

There is no getting round the fact that she was a terrible pickle. If we bear in mind what the state of girls’ education was in those days we shall see that it could scarcely have been otherwise. If she could have gone to a boys’ school and enjoyed its boisterous give and take, the little “despotic emperor” would soon have found her level. One loves to think how happy she would have been in the modern Girls’ High School: if she had but found the education of women in the condition in which she left it, the difference in her whole future would have been very great, but women of the present day would not owe her the debt they owe her now. “The breaker is gone up before them.”

There’s no denying that she was a real mess. If we consider what girls’ education was like back then, it’s clear it couldn’t have been any different. If she had attended a boys’ school and experienced its lively interactions, the little “despotic emperor” would have quickly discovered her place. It’s nice to imagine how happy she would have been at a modern Girls’ High School: if she had found women’s education in a better state than she did, the impact on her future would have been substantial, but today’s women wouldn’t owe her the same debt they do now. “The breaker is gone up before them.”

As things were, she had, in a sense, got the upper hand of her parents before she went to school at all. She was simply overflowing with energy and vitality, and they found themselves, while she was little more than a child, confronted with a personality which ran right athwart their preconceived notions and theories of life. They had not the right weapons with which to meet the outbursts of her volcanic temperament, and it must always be borne in mind that “when she was good, she was very very good,” immeasurably more attractive than the average child.

As it was, she had, in a way, gained the upper hand over her parents even before she started school. She was just bursting with energy and life, and they found themselves, while she was still just a kid, facing a personality that completely challenged their ideas and beliefs about life. They didn’t have the right tools to handle her explosive temperament, and it’s essential to remember that “when she was good, she was really, really good,” far more appealing than the average child.

12The one effort of her teachers, of course, was to repress her, to induce her to be “ladylike,” and, most unfortunately of all, to make every childish act of disobedience, every outburst of passion, the text for a homily on the necessity of “coming to Jesus.” One cannot read the long series of letters referred to above without wondering how it came about that the germ of religion in the child’s heart was not worn away altogether; and indeed its survival only becomes comprehensible when one bears in mind the genuine goodness of many of those who watched over her, and also the “unknown quantity,”—that elusive unsearchable factor that is present in every human equation.

12The main focus of her teachers, of course, was to stifle her, to make her act “ladylike,” and, unfortunately, to turn every instance of childish disobedience and every outburst of frustration into a lesson on the importance of “coming to Jesus.” One can't read the long series of letters mentioned earlier without wondering how the seed of faith in the child's heart didn't disappear completely; and its persistence only makes sense when you consider the genuine kindness of many of those who oversaw her, along with the “unknown quantity”—that elusive, unpredictable factor that exists in every human situation.

The earliest references to her education are two letters from her first governess, Miss B., to Mrs. Jex-Blake, of which the first is dated November 24th, 1848:

The first mentions of her education are two letters from her first governess, Miss B., to Mrs. Jex-Blake, with the first dated November 24th, 1848:

“Sophy is a dear child, shewing daily advancement in her studies, and often delighting me by a rectitude of principle emanating, I trust ‘from the Father of lights’. A little native wildness (and that gradually softening down) together with the want of promptitude in setting about her duties, are the chief obstacles that could be picked out from a much longer list of things most prized by an earnest teacher. I have often thought of your wish that she should learn the Latin grammar, and quite agree with your view of its probable advantage; but I am afraid of breaking down in the long and short syllables.... For the next few months it appears to me nothing will be lost by our present system, in which I find parsing to be generally a subject of interest.

“Sophy is a lovely child, making daily progress in her studies and often bringing me joy with her strong sense of right and wrong, which I hope comes ‘from the Father of lights.’ A little natural wildness (which is gradually fading) along with her lack of promptness in starting her tasks are the main challenges I can identify from a much longer list of qualities that an earnest teacher values. I’ve often thought about your wish for her to learn Latin grammar, and I totally agree that it would be beneficial. However, I worry about struggling with the long and short syllables... For the next few months, I believe we won’t lose anything by sticking with our current system, where I find parsing to generally be an interesting subject.”

I trust the time is not very distant when your little girl will successfully strive to be both a help and comfort to her parents.”

I believe it's not long before your little girl will manage to be both a support and a source of comfort to her parents.

The second letter is nearly two months later:

The second letter comes almost two months later:

“Your kind letter with its agreeable suggestion reached me too late for a reply by return of post. It would have given me a feeling deeper than pleasure to continue the instruction of your very promising child, but I have already engaged with one daily pupil and have a half prospect of another, in addition to which God’s high dispensation seems to allot to my keeping, as soon as He graciously gives me the means, the eldest of four children belonging to my Brother.... With our best love to Sophy, I am, dear Mrs. Blake,

“Your thoughtful letter with its pleasant suggestion reached me too late for a quick reply. I would have felt more than just pleasure in continuing to teach your very promising child, but I’ve already committed to one daily student and may take on another soon. Additionally, it seems that God’s plan has set aside for me, as soon as I'm able, the eldest of my brother’s four children... Please pass on our best love to Sophy. Sincerely, dear Mrs. Blake,”

Yours in the Lord,

Mary B.”

13The first arrangement having fallen through, Sophy was sent with her sister to Belmont, a school kept by Mrs. and Miss Teed. The following letter seems to have been written on the day they set out:

13After the first plan fell apart, Sophy went to Belmont with her sister, a school run by Mrs. and Miss Teed. The letter below appears to have been written on the day they left:

“29th January [1849].

Dear little So,

I hope you had a comfortable journey; I fear the cold wind must have increased your cold. Now, dearest child, you must be always going to Jesus for grace to overcome self-will and the desire to be conspicuous. Strive to be a gentle child, in reality esteeming others better than yourself. You cannot learn anything to any purpose till you are obedient and have some self-command. Try to be a comfort to dearest Carry, she has her trials, depend upon it,—do you be obedient to her and thoughtful of her comfort, without making a fuss about it. Carry likes kindness quietly done. Do not give needless trouble to Miss Towers or anyone. Try to deserve Dearest Mrs. Teed’s good opinion. Jesus will be sure to help you whenever you ask Him. I forward a note that arrived from Aunt Taylor. Papa sends best love.

I hope your trip was comfortable; I’m worried the cold wind must have made you feel colder. Now, my dear child, you should always turn to Jesus for the strength to overcome selfishness and the urge to stand out. Aim to be a kind child, genuinely considering others better than yourself. You won’t learn anything meaningful until you are obedient and can manage yourself. Make an effort to support dear Carry; she has her challenges, trust me—be obedient to her and keep her comfort in mind without drawing attention to it. Carry appreciates kindness that is shown quietly. Don’t create unnecessary trouble for Miss Towers or anyone else. Strive to earn dear Mrs. Teed’s good opinion. Jesus will definitely help you whenever you reach out to Him. I’m sending along a note that came from Aunt Taylor. Papa sends his love.

I am your affectionate Mother,

Maria Emily Jex-Blake.”

Mrs. Jex-Blake’s health never was robust, and at this time it was causing her husband and intimate friends some uneasiness.

Mrs. Jex-Blake's health was never strong, and at this time it was causing her husband and close friends some concern.

“Do you know, darling Sophy,” she writes on March 27th, “it is sometimes quite a trial to me to write one letter to each of you, and I should hardly do it, did I not know how ‘nice it is’ (as you say) to hear from home at school. I so much like you to send me the heads of Mr. Parker’s and of Mr. Taylor’s sermons. The one on 23 Jer. 29 must have been very beautiful.... Papa has just come in and says thank dear little So for her letter and tell her I am particularly pleased with the clear way in which she sent me the heads of the sermon.... I send you a few of our violets.”

“Do you know, dear Sophy,” she writes on March 27th, “it’s sometimes quite a challenge for me to write one letter to each of you, and I probably wouldn’t do it if I didn’t know how ‘nice it is’ (as you say) to hear from home at school. I really like it when you send me the outlines of Mr. Parker’s and Mr. Taylor’s sermons. The one on 23 Jer. 29 must have been very beautiful.... Papa just came in and says thank you, dear little So, for your letter and tell her I am especially pleased with the clear way in which she sent me the outlines of the sermon.... I’m sending you a few of our violets.”

And again,

And once more,

“Be much in prayer, my sweet one, for grace to be obedient and gentle. Hope whispers great things for our next meeting if God grants us one.

“Pray a lot, my dear, for the grace to be obedient and kind. Hope hints at wonderful things for our next meeting if God allows us to have one."

I am comforting myself with the hope that you are waging constant war against self-will and disobedience. You can hardly believe how happy you will be when through God’s help upon your earnest endeavours, you can obey at once and give up your own way. I send my darling child a text which I wish her to learn and pray 14for grace to live up to. It is 1 Peter v. 5. I wish you to learn it perfectly and make it part of your daily prayers. Tell me when you write that you have done so. Bear it in mind all day long, and try hard, very hard, to live up to it. I often fancy you all at morning prayers and wish I could be there.^[4] God gives you great privileges, dear child, that you may live to Him.”

I'm reassuring myself with the hope that you're always fighting against self-will and disobedience. You can hardly imagine how happy you'll be when, with God's help and your sincere efforts, you can obey immediately and let go of your own way. I'm sending my dear child a verse that I want her to memorize and pray for the grace to follow. It's 1 Peter v. 5. I want you to learn it perfectly and make it a part of your daily prayers. Let me know when you write that you've done it. Keep it in mind throughout the day, and try really hard to live by it. I often imagine all of you at morning prayers and wish I could be there.^[4] God gives you great privileges, dear child, so that you can live for Him.”

All the letters are in this vein, and all were read by the recipient many times and carefully preserved.

All the letters follow this theme, and the recipient read them all several times and kept them safe.

In June, 1849, she went with her parents, brother and sister to spend a long holiday in the Lake District, and one is glad to think of her as being much in the open air, collecting plants and stones, “shooting a good deal with bow and arrows,” riding on the coach, and being allowed to drive for a few minutes herself.^[5]

In June 1849, she went with her parents, brother, and sister to enjoy a long holiday in the Lake District, and it's nice to imagine her spending a lot of time outdoors, collecting plants and stones, practicing archery, riding in the carriage, and even getting to drive for a few minutes herself.^[5]

Her holiday diary is as well written and as dull as that of the average adult, and one is almost startled when one comes upon such entries as “Played at horses and pretended I was driving the mail”; and again, “A very wet day. I had a very nice game with Papa and Carry, and another with Carry in the afternoon and afterwards another alone with Papa very nice indeed and I enjoyed it very much.”

Her holiday diary is written just as well but is as boring as an average adult's journal, and it's surprising to find entries like “Played at horses and pretended I was driving the mail”; and then, “It was a very rainy day. I had a nice game with Dad and Carry, and another with Carry in the afternoon, and then another one alone with Dad, which was really nice and I enjoyed it very much.”

On the other hand there was no lack of church-going, and the texts are always carefully noted down:

On the other hand, there were plenty of church services attended, and the texts are always carefully noted down:

“July 29th Sunday. Went to Keswick church in the morning and the text was James 4. 8. Brother went to church at Thornthwaite. Papa, Brother and Carry walked off to the Vale of St. John’s, but there was no sermon—only prayers. Went to Keswick church in the afternoon and the clergyman took his text from Ps. 119, 96.”

“July 29th Sunday. Went to church in Keswick in the morning, and the passage was James 4:8. My brother went to church in Thornthwaite. Dad, my brother, and Carry walked over to the Vale of St. John’s, but there was no sermon—only prayers. I went to the Keswick church in the afternoon, and the clergyman used Ps. 119:96 for his text.”

“Aug. 5th. Mama was very ill and I stopped at home both in the morning and afternoon with her. Papa, Brother and Carry went to Brougham-hall to church but there was no service. They went again in the afternoon to Brougham-hall—no sermon. I went in the evening to Penrith church and the text was Luke 16. 8.”

“Aug. 5th. Mom was really sick, so I stayed home with her both in the morning and afternoon. Dad, Brother, and Carry went to Brougham Hall for church, but there was no service. They went back in the afternoon to Brougham Hall—still no sermon. I went to Penrith church in the evening, and the sermon was based on Luke 16. 8.”

15She never seems to have drawn a blank, poor little soul!

15She never seems to have hit a dead end, poor little thing!

A previous entry is even more characteristic of the world she lived in:

A previous entry is even more representative of the world she lived in:

“July 23rd.... Had a walk with Papa and Carry in the afternoon, and afterwards bought tracts (for 6d.) with Carry.”

“July 23rd.... Took a walk with Dad and Carry in the afternoon, and afterwards bought pamphlets (for 6d.) with Carry.”

“24th. A rather wet morning. Went out with Papa and gave away some tracts.”

“24th. A pretty rainy morning. Went out with Dad and handed out some pamphlets.”

Yet her Father was an excellent playfellow and at this time her most indulgent critic. In the spring of 1850 he writes—“It is a real pleasure to me to hear from you, and I hear such pleasing accounts of you from others that I am very glad”; but it must be admitted that this note of congratulation is rare.

Yet her father was an amazing playmate and, at that time, her most supportive critic. In the spring of 1850, he writes—“It's a true pleasure to hear from you, and I get such great reports about you from others that I’m very happy”; but it has to be said that this kind of congratulatory note is uncommon.

There is an amusing little joint note from her parents, probably of an earlier date:

There’s a funny little joint note from her parents, likely from an earlier time:

“Dear Sophy,

“Hey Sophy,”

I send you the 1s. and I hope the yellow paper. I do not know what you want of paste-board, therefore I fear I cannot send it. I send the gingerbreads, and hope to do so on the 11th again. Your affectionate Mother.”

I’m sending you the ones and I hope the yellow paper. I’m not sure what you need the cardboard for, so I’m afraid I can’t send that. I’m sending the gingerbreads and I hope to send more on the 11th. Your loving Mother.”

Then follows in pencil:

“Dear child, I have got all the things for you and leave them with 2 pounds of gingerbread. I think you want more than one shilling for your purpose so I enclose 2s. for you.

“Dear child, I have got everything for you and I'm leaving you 2 pounds of gingerbread. I think you need more than one shilling for what you want, so I'm including 2s. for you.”

Your affect. Papa,

T. J.-B.”

But it must not be supposed that her parents were ever otherwise than of one mind concerning her. Like all well-constituted husbands, Mr. Jex-Blake was quite prepared on occasion to demolish the child who made his wife uncomfortable. And it must be confessed that little Sophy had rather a knack of making people “uncomfortable.” She was so keen about everything: she staked her equanimity so often on things which it might have been wiser to regard as trifles, that those about her learned to live in a state of some anxiety, never knowing when the eruption might come.

But it shouldn’t be assumed that her parents ever disagreed about her. Like all good husbands, Mr. Jex-Blake was ready to take down the child who upset his wife. And it must be said that little Sophy had a talent for making people “uncomfortable.” She was so passionate about everything; she put her composure on the line so frequently over things that might have been better seen as unimportant that those around her learned to exist in a constant state of worry, never knowing when the next outburst might happen.

The remedy for it all is painfully obvious as we read. More 16scope, more physical exercise, more fresh air; but, as already pointed out, the girls’ schools of those days provided none of these things; and, when the child came to her dearly loved home, the Mother’s excessive fragility made it necessary that her daughter should live the life of a grown up person.^[6] The most devoted mutual love could not devise a régime suited to both. The lovely ailing Mother could not stand noise and excitement. Sophy was often riotous, excitable, “rough” yet always very loving with it all. On one occasion when walking demurely along the pavement in a queue of well-behaved girls, she caught sight of her father, and, without a moment’s hesitation, deserted the ranks, and took a flying leap on to his back!

The solution to everything is painfully clear as we read. More 16scope, more physical activity, more fresh air; but, as mentioned earlier, the girls' schools of that time offered none of these. When the child returned to her beloved home, her mother’s extreme frailty meant that her daughter had to live like an adult.^[6] The deepest mutual love couldn’t create a routine that worked for both. The lovely, sickly mother couldn’t handle noise and excitement. Sophy was often wild, excitable, “rough,” yet always very affectionate in her way. Once, while walking quietly along the sidewalk in a line of well-behaved girls, she spotted her father and, without a second thought, broke away from the line and jumped onto his back!

No wonder that a contemporary friend of the family describes him as saying very often, “My dear Sophy! My dear child!” in tones of absolute bewilderment.

No wonder a modern friend of the family often describes him as saying, “My dear Sophy! My dear child!” in a completely bewildered tone.

In the summer of 1850 Sophy made the tour referred to in the preceding chapter, and a liberal education it must have been. In April Mrs. Jex-Blake had written,

In the summer of 1850, Sophy took the trip mentioned in the previous chapter, and it must have been a great education for her. In April, Mrs. Jex-Blake had written,

“I hardly allow myself to look forward to the treat of going to Scotland; it seems almost too much pleasure,—and we shall be sure to find people who love Jesus and love the Bible there and that will add so very greatly to our pleasure.... Papa thanks you for your letter, he is surprised and pleased to learn that you are in Reduction.... Use daily as a prayer the substance of 1 Peter v. 5.”

“I barely let myself look forward to the excitement of going to Scotland; it feels almost too much joy, and we will definitely meet people who love Jesus and love the Bible there, which will really enhance our enjoyment…. Dad thanks you for your letter. He is surprised and happy to find out that you are in Reduction…. Make the essence of 1 Peter 5:5 a daily prayer.”

“18th June. Left Belmont at 20 minutes to 10 with Miss Teed, and met Papa and Mama at the Euston, and went to Rugby to pick up Brother.” So Sophy’s own diary begins, and an excellent conscientious piece of work it is. They visited Leamington, Warwick, Kenilworth: thence to Edinburgh, Stirling, Glasgow and the Lochs, Callander and the Trossachs, stopping at York on the way south.

“June 18. Left Belmont at 9:40 AM with Miss Teed, and met Dad and Mom at Euston, then went to Rugby to pick up my brother.” This is how Sophy’s diary starts, and it’s a great, diligent record. They visited Leamington, Warwick, Kenilworth, then headed to Edinburgh, Stirling, Glasgow, and the Lochs, stopping at Callander and the Trossachs, with a stop in York on the way back south.

A pretty piece of doggerel shows the happy relations between Father and daughter at this period. It is scribbled in pencil 17on the back of a hotel-keeper’s note. The Father begins in his scholarly handwriting:

A charming piece of verse highlights the joyful bond between Father and daughter during this time. It's jotted down in pencil on the back of a hotel-keeper’s note. The Father starts in his neat handwriting:

“My little child, You’re very wild,
Could you be still, And yet not ill,
Then, little So, This I do know,
You’d be a blessing, Worth possessing.”

Whereupon Sophy comes hobbling on:

Then Sophy hobbles in:

“My dear Father, I had rather
You’d believe me, And relieve me,
When I say, As I may,
That I’ll be good, As I should.”

Of course it is she who recommences the game:

Of course, she's the one who starts the game again:

“My dear Papa, Aha, Aha,
Send me a letter, Then you can better
Tell when we go, Off to Tarbet Oh!
And all your wishes, With many kisses.”

And the scholarly handwriting closes the page:

And the academic writing finishes the page:

“I kiss you! Why if I do
I kiss a wild, And teasing child.
But this short note, Papa has wrote
To say at ten, We start again.
Henceforth you should Be very good.”

In autumn the two sisters returned to Mrs. Teed’s school, and things resumed their chequered course. I am told by a schoolfellow of Sophy’s, who had an excellent influence over her at that time, that Mrs. Teed managed the little girl extremely well: and in any case she remained at Belmont for two years, when Mrs. Jex-Blake removed her—evidently to the child’s regret—on the curious ground that she was being “extinguished.” The truth is that the younger pupils were rationed according to age, and, as Sophy was physically as well as mentally in advance of her contemporaries, she was reduced to eating raw acorns to appease her hunger. But Mrs. Jex-Blake was not aware of that detail till long after.

In autumn, the two sisters went back to Mrs. Teed’s school, and things returned to their usual ups and downs. A schoolmate of Sophy’s, who had a positive influence on her at that time, told me that Mrs. Teed handled the little girl very well. In any case, she stayed at Belmont for two years, until Mrs. Jex-Blake moved her—clearly to the child's disappointment—based on the odd reason that she was being “extinguished.” The truth is, the younger students were grouped by age, and since Sophy was ahead of her peers both physically and mentally, she was left to eat raw acorns to satisfy her hunger. However, Mrs. Jex-Blake didn’t find out about that detail until much later.

In the meantime, the former teacher, Miss B., had settled at Ramsgate with the pupils already referred to, and Sophy was sent back to her. A more devoted and conscientious 18teacher one can scarcely imagine, but the arrangement was in some ways a very unfortunate one. At home—and probably also to some extent at Mrs. Teed’s—the religious atmosphere was tempered by a sense of humour as regards the ordinary affairs of life; but of this quality worthy Miss B. seems to have possessed no trace. Henceforth the child lived in a religious forcing house. One hopes that at times she escaped to Sweet Sackermena and her Isles, but the moral atmosphere at Ramsgate was not conducive to such pagan wanderings. Her brain was pronounced excitable, and she was to have but little head employment, but she was taken to church several times a week, and encouraged—or instructed—to write out the sermons to send home to her parents. Here is an example of her work: (Miss B.’s trifling corrections are omitted.)

In the meantime, the former teacher, Miss B., had settled in Ramsgate with the students mentioned earlier, and Sophy was sent back to her. It’s hard to imagine a more devoted and hardworking teacher, but the arrangement was unfortunate in some ways. At home—and likely to some degree at Mrs. Teed’s—the religious environment was lightened by a sense of humor regarding everyday life; however, Miss B. seemed to lack this quality entirely. From now on, the child lived in a strict religious environment. One can only hope that she occasionally found her way to Sweet Sackermena and her Isles, but the moral climate in Ramsgate didn’t encourage such carefree explorations. Her mind was considered excitable, and she wasn't supposed to have much intellectual engagement, yet she was taken to church several times a week and encouraged—or instructed—to write out the sermons to send home to her parents. Here is an example of her work: (Miss B.’s minor corrections are omitted.)

“Mr. Dunbrain. John iii. 3.* April 2. 1851.

We live in days of deep interest,—the common topics of men are thrown aside and everyone seems to be utterly absorbed in religious controversies. The torpor which had overspread the church has entirely dissolved, and now all around we hear nothing but the perpetual strife jar and clamour of religious disputes. It is a storm and a strong one too, but many think it precedes the blessed peace and quiet of the Millennium. Like every storm it did not come all at once, but it has been long in gathering; it began with what men call trifles and rose gradually, gathering strength as it rose, etc., etc.

We’re living in really interesting times—common topics are being set aside, and everyone seems to be completely caught up in religious arguments. The indifference that once took over the church has completely faded, and now all around us, we hear nothing but the constant noise and chaos of religious disputes. It’s a storm, and a strong one at that, but many believe it’s a sign of the blessed peace and calm of the Millennium to come. Like any storm, it didn’t just appear out of nowhere; it’s been building for a long time. It started with what people called minor issues and gradually grew, gaining momentum as it went along, etc., etc.

Those marked * are Wednesday evening lectures.”

We are left to guess whether she wrote out the lecture after supper the night it was delivered, or lay awake “remembering it” till next morning.

We can only speculate whether she wrote out the lecture after dinner the night it was given, or if she stayed up "thinking about it" until the next morning.

Memory altogether was a faculty assiduously cultivated. It was the custom for the family to gather round the fire on Sunday evenings, and for one after the other to repeat a sacred poem. When they had been separated for a time, special interest attached to the items each had added in the interval to his, or her, repertory. No doubt the custom began with the learning of hymns, but they seem for the most part to have been good hymns, and round this nucleus there gathered an extraordinarily varied collection,—fine passages from Isaiah and the Psalms, poems by Trench, 19Dean Alford, Longfellow, Wordsworth and many more. It was said of the younger daughter in her later life that, if she had been shipwrecked on a desert island with nothing but pens and paper in addition to the actual means of livelihood, she could gradually have provided a priceless library from memory alone.

Memory was a skill that was carefully developed. The family had a tradition of gathering around the fire on Sunday evenings, taking turns reciting a cherished poem. After being apart for a while, there was particular excitement about what each person had added to their repertoire during that time. The tradition likely started with learning hymns, and they mostly picked good ones, around which an incredibly diverse collection formed—beautiful passages from Isaiah and the Psalms, poems by Trench, Dean Alford, Longfellow, Wordsworth, and many others. It was said of the younger daughter later in her life that if she had been shipwrecked on a deserted island with only pens and paper in addition to the basics for survival, she could have gradually created a priceless library from memory alone.

A few of her letters at this time have been preserved.

A few of her letters from this time have been kept.

[1851].

“Dear Daddy,

“Dear Dad,

A most extraordinary thing happened this morning; the crew of a Portuguese ship put up in the masthead figures representing Pontius Pilate and Judas and exactly as 10 struck on the pier clock they thumped them down into the sea! Now was not this Popish trash? A respectable English jolly tar told Miss B. all about it and added how happy we were to be taught better; now I think that’s a right good English spirit. The first grand steamer has just come in. I have a very bad cold and have not been out. Miss B. brought me some licorice for my cough and I am to have treacle posset tonight so I could not possibly be taken more care of and no doubt it will be quite well before 30th. You musn’t think Miss B. had anything to do with my talking about tractarianism, indeed afterwards she forbade it,—it was all my fault. I’m writing a history of our family entitled ‘History of the illustrious family of Blakes from 70 B.C. to 1080 A.D.’ Dear Daddy how I do love you, if I could ‘climb those knees and kiss that face’ I’d be happy enough, indeed I’m very happy here but home sweet home is better than anything else. S. B.

Something really extraordinary happened this morning; the crew of a Portuguese ship raised figures of Pontius Pilate and Judas in the masthead, and just as the clock struck 10 on the pier, they threw them into the sea! Isn't that just ridiculous? A respectable English sailor told Miss B. all about it and added how grateful we are to be taught better; I think that shows a good English spirit. The first big steamer has just arrived. I have a terrible cold and haven't gone out. Miss B. brought me some licorice for my cough, and I’m having treacle posset tonight, so I couldn’t be taken better care of, and I’m sure it’ll be all better by the 30th. You mustn’t think Miss B. had anything to do with my talking about tractarianism; in fact, she forbade it afterward—it was all my fault. I’m writing a history of our family titled ‘History of the illustrious family of Blakes from 70 BCE to 1080 CE’ Dear Daddy, how I do love you! If I could just climb onto your knees and kiss your face, I’d be so happy; though I am very happy here, home sweet home is better than anything else. S. B.

Do send me a large seal of your crest.”

Do send me a large seal of your emblem.”

Her Mother, however, is always her main confidant.

Her mom, however, is always her main confidant.

“I’m in a scrape just now Mama,” she writes on April 5th, 1851, “I long to be at Home, home sweet home there’s no place like home, no person like Mummy and no kiss like Mummy’s cuddle and no knees like Papa’s and no player at Prisoner and Judge Selling or any other game in the world like Papa, no one that can put me in a good humour like Daddy and Mummy! Oh! nothing like what everything is at home anywhere else, in all Europe Asia Africa and America no place is like home, sweet sweet home.... Love to dear Papa and yourself 3000000 kisses. I always kiss the envelope. Please write very soon. I am your affectionate and I hope dutiful Sophy.”

“I’m in a bit of a tough spot right now, Mama,” she writes on April 5th, 1851. “I really want to be at home, home sweet home—there’s no place like home, no one like Mummy, no kiss like Mummy’s hug, and no knees like Papa’s. There’s no one who can play Prisoner and Judge or any other game like Papa, and no one who can cheer me up like Daddy and Mummy! Oh! nothing is like what we have at home anywhere else—in all of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, no place is like home, sweet sweet home.... Love to dear Papa and you—3,000,000 kisses. I always kiss the envelope. Please write back very soon. I am your affectionate and I hope dutiful Sophy.”

We know how fervently the Mother “hoped” the same!

We know how passionately the Mother “wished” the same!

20The child seems to have spent the first weeks of May in her beloved home, and the following letter from Miss B. gives us a graphic sketch of her return to school:

20The child appears to have spent the first weeks of May in her cherished home, and the following letter from Miss B. provides us with a vivid description of her return to school:

“My dear Mrs. Blake,

“My dear Mrs. Blake,”

Dearest Sophy has laid her letter before me, and such a burden of grief I can scarcely bear to send—but you will look at my view of the picture likewise. The tears shed in writing that were very nearly all we have had; for soon after parting from her Papa the heavy clouds passed away, and, when established in the fly I was glad to hear, ‘Well, I am not quite so sorry as I expected to be,’ and then ‘Mummy says the air of Ramsgate will almost make amends for the parting.’ We got home and found dinner ready, but dear Sophy could only take a little rhubarb.... At tea she seemed surprised at being able to express herself as ‘hungry,’ though the appetite was soon satisfied, and she is now sitting reading in the garden, which she says is ‘delicious’. Dear Mrs. Blake do not think I will tax her head with anything beyond beneficial employment. It will be my study to get rid of that thin look which I could scarcely have attributed to so short a change (!). I ought to tell you that Sophy meant to say that she felt better when she got into Ramsgate than for some time, but grief swallowed up all other news.”

Dearest Sophy has shared her letter with me, and the weight of sadness is almost too much to send—but I hope you'll see my perspective on the situation as well. The tears shed while writing that letter were almost all we've experienced; shortly after saying goodbye to her father, the dark clouds lifted, and once settled in the house, I was relieved to hear her say, “Well, I'm not as sad as I thought I'd be,” followed by, “Mummy says the air in Ramsgate will almost make up for the goodbye.” We arrived home to find dinner ready, but dear Sophy could only manage a little rhubarb.... At tea, she seemed surprised to describe herself as “hungry,” though her appetite was quickly satisfied, and now she’s reading in the garden, which she says is “lovely.” Dear Mrs. Blake, please don’t think I’ll burden her mind with anything beyond helpful activities. My goal is to help her lose that thin look I never would have associated with such a short change (!). I should mention that Sophy intended to say she felt better upon arriving in Ramsgate than she had in quite a while, but her sadness overshadowed all other news.

A week or two later her Father asks her in a rash moment if she can tell him “Why it is wrong to oppose Papal Aggression?” adding, “If you can’t, I will tell you.” The question was a mere conundrum, but she takes it very seriously:

A week or two later, her father asks her on a whim if she can explain "Why it is wrong to oppose Papal Aggression?" adding, "If you can't, I'll explain it to you." The question was just a puzzle, but she takes it very seriously:

“Dear Father,

"Dear Dad,"

I am very very sorry to hear that dearest Mother is so unwell (or I should say ill). I send her a marker as I have not many flowers that will press well.^[7] Please tell her that she must not give it away to anyone. I am quite enchanted at Boy’s getting two poetry prizes; it is charming.

I am really really sorry to hear that dear Mom is so unwell (or I should say ill). I’m sending her a marker since I don’t have many flowers that will press well.^[7] Please let her know that she shouldn’t give it away to anyone. I’m really impressed that Boy got two poetry prizes; that’s wonderful.

Well, about the question, ‘Why it is wrong to oppose the Papal Aggression?’ I really don’t see how it can be wrong and must think it quite right. I can’t see how it can be wrong for any zealous servant of God to oppose with all his might that which dishonours God and his word, which (when the Bible says ‘none can come unto the Father but by Me’) says that we must come by the Virgin and the saints etc. People might say ‘We must not oppose it for it is God’s will’ they might also say that ‘temptation was put before the Jews and that was God’s will’ but they were told to put the 21accursed thing far from them and destroy it utterly and I think the Papal Aggression is put in our way to try us and see if we will oppose it unto death. But of course you know more about it than I, so please tell me why it is wrong to oppose it.”

Well, about the question, “Why is it wrong to oppose the Papal Aggression?” I really don’t see how it can be wrong; in fact, I think it’s completely right. I can’t understand how it can be wrong for any devoted servant of God to oppose, with all their strength, what dishonors God and His word. When the Bible says, “none can come unto the Father but by Me,” it suggests that we must come through the Virgin and the saints, etc. People might say, "We shouldn’t oppose it because it’s God’s will." They might also argue that “temptation was placed before the Jews and that was God’s will,” but they were instructed to put the 21accursed thing far away from them and completely destroy it. I believe the Papal Aggression is there to test us and see if we will oppose it to the death. But of course, you know more about it than I do, so please tell me why it’s wrong to oppose it.

One can imagine that her Father was almost ashamed to confess that the question was only a joke.

One can imagine that her father was almost embarrassed to admit that the question was just a joke.

“Now for a word about the ‘bowing,’”‘bowing,’” he says in another letter. “It is“It is of no importance in itself, and therefore I never tell my children or servants either to bow or not to bow; but particular circumstances may render it important, and if good and kind Miss B. thinks that at Christ Church, you may honour God rather by doing as she and others who are with her do, than by being singular on this point, I not only wish you to obey her, but to do it with a willing and ready mind, cheerfully, as a plain matter of duty. Which it is. It is for her to judge, and for you to do, gladly, what she tells you.”

“Now for a word about the ‘bowing,’”‘bowing,’” he says in another letter. “It is“It is of no importance in itself, and therefore I never tell my children or servants whether to bow or not; but certain situations may make it important, and if good and kind Miss B. believes that at Christ Church you can honor God better by doing what she and others are doing, rather than standing out on this issue, I not only want you to follow her advice but to do it willingly and readily, cheerfully, as a simple matter of duty. Which it is. It is for her to decide, and for you to do, gladly, as she instructs you.”

Miss B. had the greatest admiration for her pupil’s gifts, and in particular she considered her a budding poetess. These are some of the effusions of the period:

Miss B. had the utmost admiration for her student's talents, especially viewing her as a budding poet. Here are some of the creations from that time:

“Oh Mother! thou that broughtest me forth
My sins gainst thee none, none can tell
For these alone I ought in sooth
To be e’en now in lowest hell.
But oh! my God still spares me on
To be a comfort to thy years
God grant I may e’er the sun goes down
Seal thee this promise with my tears.
Ne’er ne’er again what [e’er] betide,
(In Jesu’s strength alone I trust)
I’ll vex my mother, who did guide
My years of infancy now past.”

Another time after expatiating on her Mother’s virtues and unmerited affection, she goes on to inform her that there is One—

Another time, after talking a lot about her mother's virtues and unearned love, she continues to tell her that there is One—

“Whose love surpasseth thine as far
As Sol excels the falling star.
My Mother ONE request I make
That thou wouldst pray for Jesu’s sake
That he would break this heart of stone
And mould it like my Saviour’s own.”

22Was it all mere humbug and “patter”? The question can best be answered by quoting the following letter to her Father. It is written impulsively in pencil on scraps of paper,—the questions and answers being on different slips. The wording of the questions has sometimes been altered and corrected, so presumably she drafted them herself. The little sheaf has been thrust “anyhow” into an envelope (addressed to Mrs. T. Jex-Blake) which bears postmark “Ramsgate, Ap. 21. 1851,” and Mrs. Jex-Blake has quaintly endorsed it “very nice.”

22Was it all just nonsense and chatter? The best way to answer that question is by quoting the following letter to her father. It's written impulsively in pencil on scraps of paper—the questions and answers being on different slips. The wording of the questions has sometimes been changed and corrected, so she likely wrote them herself. The little bundle has been stuffed "anyhow" into an envelope (addressed to Mrs. T. Jex-Blake) which is postmarked “Ramsgate, Ap. 21. 1851,” and Mrs. Jex-Blake has charmingly noted it as “very nice.”

“My dearest Father,

“My beloved Dad,

I fear you are very uneasy about me for I have indeed manifested no visible proof of a new and clean heart, but I think much of my soul too much for me to speak even to you of it. But I cannot talk so whenever anyone tries to talk to me of it I always turn it into jest but I must write (I cannot speak) to you about it so I have written some questions down and endeavoured to answer them as before God. So do believe each word.

I’m worried that you're really concerned about me because I haven’t shown any clear signs of having a new and pure heart. But I care about my soul too much to even bring it up with you. Whenever someone tries to talk to me about it, I always make a joke out of it, but I need to write (I can’t talk) to you about it. So, I’ve written down some questions and tried to answer them as if I were speaking before God. Please believe each word.

S. B.

1. If you died this instant what would become of you? And could you face death unflinchingly?

1. If you were to die right now, what would happen to you? And could you confront death without flinching?

I know not what would become of me but I fear I should go to eternal torments. And do not think I could face death unflinchingly for this reason.

I don’t know what would happen to me, but I’m afraid I’d end up in eternal suffering. And don’t think I could face death without fear because of this.

2. What would be your first emotion when you found yourself in the presence of the Judge of quick and dead?

2. What would be your first feeling when you found yourself in front of the Judge of the living and the dead?

Fear I think but yet I think that I should claim Jesus’ promises to lost sinners.

Fear, I believe, but I still think that I should hold onto Jesus' promises for lost sinners.

3. If Christ came this night and asked you ‘Lovest thou me’ what would be your answer?

3. If Christ showed up tonight and asked you, ‘Do you love me?’ what would you say?

Yes Lord although I am very wicked and cold and dull yet I could say without hesitation I do love thee very much I often feel my heart warm towards thee and something tells me that one day I shall love thee far better than I do now.

Yes, Lord, even though I am very wicked, cold, and dull, I can say without hesitation that I love You very much. I often feel my heart warm toward You, and something tells me that one day I will love You much more than I do now.

4. Could you before God say truly ‘I strive to live as I hope to die’?

4. Could you honestly say before God, “I try to live the way I hope to die”?

No I fear I could not although sometimes I do try to do things to please Jesus.

No, I'm afraid I can't, although sometimes I do try to do things to please Jesus.

5. Do you really in your heart know your religion to be a mere form or do you really feel its life-giving influence on your heart?

5. Do you genuinely know in your heart that your religion is just a routine, or do you actually feel its life-giving impact on your heart?

I know I often say far more than I really believe, I even have been tempted so far as to doubt in my heart the existence 23of a Diety but yet I have had a few bright moments in which I could sincerely say Yes I know it I know that Christ is mine and I am his but a deep gloom is generally over my spirit.

I know I often say much more than I truly believe, and I’ve even been tempted to doubt in my heart the existence 23 of a deity, but still, there have been a few bright moments when I could honestly say, "Yes, I know it. I know that Christ is mine, and I am His." However, a deep gloom usually shadows my spirit.

6. Do you in your heart believe yourself to be a new creature?

6. Do you truly believe in your heart that you are a new person?

I know not but I fear not although at times I have been fully convinced that I am God’s child.

I don't really know, but I'm not afraid, even though there have been times when I was completely sure that I am God's child.

7. Do you earnestly desire to be such?

Do you genuinely want to be like that?

Most earnestly whenever anything touches that chord in my heart and sometimes I could weep bitterly but generally I feel awfully indifferent as to my soul.

Most of the time, whenever something resonates deeply with my heart, I could cry intensely, but usually, I feel incredibly indifferent about my soul.

8. Do you think you have ever known what true prayer is?

8. Do you think you’ve ever really understood what true prayer is?

Most certainly and have sometimes obtained very gracious answers.

Most definitely and have occasionally received very kind answers.

9. Where will you be 200 years hence?

9. Where will you be in 200 years?

In heaven I humbly hope and trust for I think the Lord has begun a good work in me.”

In heaven, I sincerely hope and believe that the Lord has started a good work in me.

Gallant honest heart!

Brave, honest heart!

Is there a single word in the whole confession that the most devoted parent would have wished different?

Is there a single word in the entire confession that even the most devoted parent would want to change?

CHAPTER III
SCHOOL LIFE—Continued

“I think the Lord has begun a good work in me.” Is there in the words a—very human and pardonable—suggestion of St. Augustine’s “Timebam enim ne me cito exaudires”? In any case, though doubtless the good work went on, it cannot be denied that the tares flourished abundantly with the wheat.

“I think the Lord has started a good work in me.” Is there in the words a—very human and understandable—suggestion of St. Augustine’s “I was worried that you would hear me too soon.”? In any case, even though the good work continued, it’s undeniable that the weeds thrived alongside the wheat.

It happened most unfortunately at this time that the child’s physical health fell into a very unsatisfactory state: we hear of great digestive trouble and functional weakness of the joints. Modern hygiene would probably have made short work of both complaints. As things were, the weakness was “tinkered at,” and the child was encouraged to live the life of an invalid. We are startled to learn incidentally that she is going out in a bath chair!

It sadly happened during this time that the child's health took a turn for the worse: we hear about severe digestive issues and joint problems. Modern hygiene would likely have quickly addressed both issues. As it stood, the weakness was just being “fixed up,” and the child was encouraged to live like an invalid. We are shocked to find out, almost by accident, that she is being taken out in a bath chair!

Good Miss B. took her up to town to see a consultant, and sent the parents long detailed reports on the child’s health. We are not surprised to come upon the following under date July, 1851:

Good Miss B. took her to the city to see a specialist and sent the parents long, detailed reports on the child's health. We aren't surprised to find the following dated July 1851:

“You must not suppose, dear Mrs. Blake, that I overlook the self that you have rightly so much at heart. I see it too well, and it is commented on to Sophy so frequently that I sometimes check myself, ... but the punishment that I might inflict on another I hold back in Sophy’s case, not only from my own knowledge of her character, but because Mr. S. cautioned me if possible never to disturb the even tenor of her brain.... Her case is peculiar and such must be the ends to meet it: they will require patience and may be long inin showing fruit, but we will not despair.”

“You shouldn't think, dear Mrs. Blake, that I ignore the self that you care about so much. I see it clearly, and I mention it to Sophy so often that I sometimes hold back... but the punishment I might impose on someone else, I refrain from in Sophy’s case, not only because I understand her character but also because Mr. S. advised me to avoid disturbing the calm of her mind if I can... Her situation is unique, and it will take specific approaches to address it: they will need patience and may take a while inin to show results, but we won't lose hope.”

The next vacation seems to have been disastrous. The child had grown more indolent and self-centred, and no 25doubt the parents were unable to deny her the sweetmeats which she loved and which the supposed weakness of her joints made it impossible for her to “work off” as healthy children should. Moreover, few houses are large enough to contain two chronic invalids.

The next vacation turned out to be a disaster. The child became more lazy and self-centered, and there's no doubt the parents couldn't resist giving her the sweets she loved, which her supposed joint issues meant she couldn't "work off" like healthy kids do. Plus, not many homes are big enough to accommodate two chronic invalids.

“I received your letter,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake when the child is gone, “and very glad we were to hear of your safe arrival,—but, my own child, I could have cried over your words. They were nice and affectionate, but the very opposite of your acts.... Either my child means what she writes or she does not. Your conduct completely contradicts your assertions. More sad and foolish behaviour than yours it is difficult to imagine. You behaved so ill that I doubt if I could have borne it another day without being laid on a bed of sickness, and I might never have recovered. Your ever being with us again for three weeks at a time is quite out of the question till you have the good sense to understand (as other children of your age do) that to be happy and comfortable and to enable me in my weak state to have you at all, you must be good. When you seem really to feel how ill you have behaved, we will some time hence have you home for a week, and if I find you keep your word (which you do not now) we will have you home very often; and Papa says that he shall then think that he can never do enough to make you very very happy; but you now destroy your happiness and my health, and the medical men will not allow us to be together. Think of your great folly and sin, my dear child. Pray to God for grace, and He will give it to you for His dear Son’s sake....

“I got your letter,” Mrs. Jex-Blake writes after the child has left, “and we were really happy to hear you arrived safely — but, my dear child, your words made me want to cry. They were sweet and caring, but totally opposite to your actions.... Either my child means what she writes or she doesn’t. Your behavior completely contradicts what you’re saying. It’s hard to imagine more sad and foolish behavior than what you’ve shown. You acted so poorly that I doubt I could have handled it another day without getting seriously ill, and I might never have recovered. You being with us again for three weeks at a time is absolutely out of the question until you have the good sense to realize (like other children your age do) that to be happy and comfortable, and to allow me, in my weak state, to have you at all, you must be good. When you truly understand how badly you've behaved, we can welcome you home for a week, and if I see you keep your promise (which you aren’t doing now), we’ll have you home often; and Papa says he will think he can never do enough to make you very, very happy; but right now you are ruining your happiness and my health, and the doctors will not allow us to be together. Consider your foolishness and mistakes, my dear child. Pray to God for grace, and He will give it to you for the sake of His dear Son....

When you have read this letter, I wish you to tear it up.”

When you finish reading this letter, I want you to tear it up.”

As ill luck would have it, this most unusually severe indictment found the poor little culprit seriously ill in bed. Her penitent reply is not forthcoming, but five days later, her Mother writes again:

As bad luck would have it, this extremely harsh accusation found the poor little offender seriously sick in bed. Her apology isn't coming, but five days later, her mother writes again:

“My own darling Child,

“My own darling child,”

I trust this will find you much better; if you want me to be happy you must make all possible haste to get well, and write to tell me you are well.... I quite believe, my darling, that you are sorry, and will, in God’s strength, take pains that the same shall never happen again. I do particularly wish you to tear up my last letter at once.”

I hope this finds you feeling much better; if you want me to be happy, you need to do everything you can to get well and write to let me know you’re okay... I truly believe, my dear, that you feel sorry about this and will, with God’s help, make sure it doesn’t happen again. I really want you to tear up my last letter immediately.

She didn’t tear it up: she never could tear up “Mummy’s letters.” She tied the two together with a piece of red wool, and slipped in with them a Sunday School “ticket” 26bearing the words, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord; for this is right.”

She didn’t rip it up: she could never bring herself to tear up “Mummy’s letters.” She tied the two together with a piece of red yarn and tucked in a Sunday School “ticket” 26 that said, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord; for this is right.”

By the same post as the second of these letters her Father writes:

By the same mail that included the second of these letters, her father writes:

“My darling Child,

“My dear child,”

We have been so grieved to hear of your illness, and do hope that before you receive this, you will be much better. It will please you to know that dear Mummy is much better for the quiet and Norfolk air. Everybody is so kind and trying to get her quite strong, and they all enquire so kindly after little Sophy, whom they call ‘little Sophy’ still, everybody saying what a very sweet and darling child you were six years ago; and I do trust that, when you see them next, they will find you a more darling child, and more loveable than ever. God grant it be so, dearest, for I want you to be very happy.”

We were so sorry to hear about your illness, and we hope that by the time you get this, you’ll be feeling much better. You'll be happy to know that dear Mummy is much improved thanks to the peaceful atmosphere and fresh Norfolk air. Everyone is being so kind and is trying to help her regain her strength, and they all ask after little Sophy, still calling her ‘little Sophy’ and saying how sweet and adorable you were six years ago. I truly hope that when you see them next, they’ll find you an even more adorable and lovable child than ever. God willing, dear one, because I want you to be very happy.

The next letter from Miss B. that has been preserved is dated September, 1851, and is addressed to Mr. Jex-Blake. “I ought not to express sorrow at the sudden removal of your child, hoping and believing that it is ‘ordered by the Lord.’ She bears away with her my affectionate love and prayerful interest.”

The next letter from Miss B. that has been preserved is dated September 1851 and is addressed to Mr. Jex-Blake. “I shouldn’t express sadness at the sudden loss of your child, hoping and believing that it is ‘ordered by the Lord.’ She takes with her my loving affection and my prayers.”

No record has been kept of the precise steps that led to the “sudden removal.”

No record has been maintained of the exact steps that led to the "sudden removal."

For the next two years the child went to a boarding-school in Brighton, where her parents had now gone to reside, and there are, therefore, practically no letters of the period. Two of her schoolfellows, however, have been good enough to contribute their impressions of her. For better and for worse, they call up a very vivid picture. Miss Lucy Portal writes:

For the next two years, the child attended a boarding school in Brighton, where her parents had moved to live, and as a result, there are almost no letters from that time. However, two of her classmates have kindly shared their thoughts about her. For better or worse, they create a very vivid image. Miss Lucy Portal writes:

“Being the junior of Sophy, as we always called her, she and I were not much in touch, though I never forgot her, for she had a strong personality, and was so clever—in fact, far above our school-mistress in natural intelligence, and she made a lasting impression on those with whom she associated. Whenever I heard her name in after life the vision of a young capable girl who asked questions that bewildered her governess rose before me.

“Being younger than Sophy, as we always called her, she and I didn’t stay in touch much, but I never forgot her because she had a strong personality and was really smart—in fact, way more intelligent than our teacher—and she left a lasting impression on everyone she interacted with. Whenever I heard her name later on, I pictured a capable young girl who asked questions that left her governess confused.”

One day when we were walking on the ‘Downs’ with [an assistant governess] in the rear, Sophy saw a large stone by the wayside and seated herself on it. ‘What do you mean by this?’ said the governess. ‘I am tired and must rest,’ replied Sophy. ‘Get up at 27once,’ said Miss ——; ‘Do you suppose we are all going to wait your pleasure in this way?’ ‘Impossible to do what is beyond one’s capacity,’ was the rejoinder, and threats had no effect. At last Miss —— lost her temper and said ‘Sophy, distinctly understand that if you do not get up, I shall leave you here, and send a policeman to fetch you.’ ‘Ah,’ said Sophy, ‘that is a kind thought. I am sure he would prove of great assistance to me. But could you manage to procure two policemen, for I don’t believe one would be able to carry me, and two might do so.’ I need not say that the battle of words was soon over after that.”

One day while we were walking on the ‘Downs’ with [an assistant governess] behind us, Sophy spotted a large stone by the side of the path and sat down on it. “What do you think you’re doing?” the governess asked. “I’m tired and need to rest,” Sophy replied. “Get up right now,” said Miss ——; “Do you think we’re all going to wait for you like this?” “It’s impossible to do what’s beyond my capacity,” came the answer, and threats had no effect. Finally, Miss —— lost her temper and said, “Sophy, you need to understand that if you don’t get up, I’ll leave you here and send a policeman to get you.” “Oh,” said Sophy, “that’s a nice thought. I’m sure he would be a big help to me. But could you arrange to get two policemen? I don’t think one would be able to carry me, but two might be able to.” I don’t need to say that the argument didn’t last much longer after that.

Knowing as one does how anomalous was the position of an assistant teacher in those days, one can but admit that the child must often have inflicted far greater suffering and anxiety than she had the least idea of.

Knowing how unusual the role of an assistant teacher was back then, one has to acknowledge that the child must have caused far more suffering and worry than she ever realized.

On the other hand, Mrs. Gover, widow of the late Canon Gover of Worcester, writes:

On the other hand, Mrs. Gover, widow of the late Canon Gover from Worcester, writes:

“Sophie set us a good example at school, and I shall always think of her as one of the most truthful girls I have ever known, the only girl I ever knew who would not allow her drawings to be touched up by her master. I had a very great respect for her high character.”

“Sophie set a great example at school, and I will always think of her as one of the most honest girls I’ve ever known, the only girl I ever met who wouldn’t let her teacher alter her drawings. I had a lot of respect for her strong character.”

But nothing can show more clearly the futility of the educational methods of that day than the following letter from the headmistress herself:

But nothing can illustrate the uselessness of the educational methods of that time more clearly than this letter from the headmistress herself:

“June, 1852.

Dearest Sophy,

Dear Sophy,

I cannot tell you with what a feeling of anguish I heard the door close after you on Saturday when you departed, and I had not kissed or blessed you.... I saw you afterwards in the street, tho’ I was unseen by you, and I could not stop you, my dear child, lest the past should be renewed. On my return I saw your present of fruit, it was not as gratifying to me as the scrap of paper, which contained my Sophy’s acknowledgement of her fault.^[8] Yet I thank you for the kind thought, as I hope you know me too well to suppose that any little gift can bribe me to forgive;—without that scrap, my Sophy, I should have turned away from receiving your fruit. The same afternoon at a friend’s house I read a portion of your favourite Scott, and could not but think of you while I read the account of the ‘evil and good’ trying for Mastery in Harold the 28Dauntless’ heart, remember his first act of forbearance was noted as a step towards heaven. Beloved child! do I beseech you remember the duty of a child, be gentle and tender to your dear Parents, then the Lord will love you, and some day the Lion will give place to the Lamb in your bosom. Dear Mary Bayly’s has turned to whooping-cough. I hope yours is better. Until I find where to send her, I cannot leave home. God’s will be done.”

I can't express how much pain I felt when I heard the door close behind you on Saturday as you left, and I hadn’t kissed or blessed you.... I saw you later in the street, but you didn't see me, and I couldn't stop you, my dear child, for fear of rehashing the past. When I got back, I saw your gift of fruit, but it didn't mean as much to me as the scrap of paper that contained my Sophy's acknowledgment of her mistake.^[8] However, I appreciate the kind thought, as I hope you know me well enough to understand that no small gift can bribe me into forgiving;—without that scrap, my Sophy, I would have turned away from accepting your fruit. That same afternoon at a friend's house, I read a part of your favorite Scott, and I couldn’t help but think of you while I read about the 'evil and good' struggling for Mastery in Harold the Dauntless’ heart; remember his first act of forbearance was seen as a step towards heaven. Beloved child! I urge you to remember the duty of a child, to be gentle and kind to your dear parents, then the Lord will love you, and someday the Lion will give way to the Lamb in your heart. Dear Mary Bayly has come down with whooping cough. I hope yours is better. Until I find out where to send her, I can’t leave home. May God’s will be done.”

For a year and a half Sophy remained under this lady’s care, and then one or two equally unsuccessful experiments were made. Meanwhile Mrs. Jex-Blake remained so ailing that it was not possible for her to have the child at home for the long vacation, and a “dear kind” lady invites the refractory young person to visit her for part of the time. Mr. Jex-Blake writes to inform Sophy of the fact, and adds, “Now have we not in this great cause of thankfulness to our kind God and Father who never forgets us?” This was perhaps asking a little too much of the homesick child.

For a year and a half, Sophy stayed under this lady’s care, and then one or two equally unsuccessful attempts were made. In the meantime, Mrs. Jex-Blake continued to be so unwell that it wasn’t possible for her to have the child at home for the long vacation, so a “dear kind” lady invited the stubborn young girl to visit her for part of the time. Mr. Jex-Blake wrote to let Sophy know about this, and added, “Now don’t we have so much to be thankful for to our kind God and Father who never forgets us?” This was perhaps asking a bit too much of the homesick child.

The truth is that the parents at this time were not growing younger (as many parents do), and certainly they were growing more staid and set in their ways. It was becoming increasingly difficult to them to adapt themselves to this riotous child. “Avoid excitement which is your great enemy,” writes her Father, unaware perhaps that his own weakness was a tendency to be rather too fussy and precise. With hearts full of love they were demanding of her a standard of excellence which for her was wholly artificial, and in the half-hearted, or at least intermittent, effort to attain it, she fell in the breach. And parents and child were not the only factors in the difficult problem of home life. So long as Sophy could by any stretch of charity be reckoned a child, it was comparatively easy for her brother and sister to put up with her volcanic ways. But from a schoolgirl one expects some conformity to recognized standards, and Sophy’s elder sister had been such a pattern in this respect that the contrast was necessarily acute.

The truth is that the parents weren't getting any younger (as many parents do) and were definitely becoming more serious and set in their ways. It was getting harder for them to cope with their wild child. “Avoid excitement, which is your biggest enemy,” writes her father, perhaps unaware that his own flaw was being a bit too fussy and particular. With hearts full of love, they were expecting her to meet a standard of excellence that felt completely artificial to her, and in her half-hearted, or at least inconsistent, attempts to achieve it, she fell short. And it wasn't just parents and child that made home life challenging. As long as Sophy could, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered a child, it was relatively easy for her brother and sister to tolerate her explosive behavior. But once she became a schoolgirl, people started expecting her to conform to accepted standards, and Sophy’s older sister had set such a high bar in this regard that the contrast was impossible to ignore.

“I really don’t think you would enjoy [a visit from] Carry much at school even if we could spare her,” Mrs. Jex-Blake writes in reply to an eager request for this privilege. “You would be tempted to be odd and excitable, and then Carry 29would be vexed and all would be uncomfortable” and no one who knew the elder sister can doubt that such demonstrations of affection would probably have “vexed” her more than most. On the other hand “Brother” was now a young man, and if his main desire for the child was that she should grow up like the sisters of other men, he only shared the attitude common at that time to the overwhelming majority of his sex. One can see that his younger sister must have tried him a good deal. The idea that she was plain and even ugly had been firmly impressed upon her: the exhibition of vanity in matters of dress had been discouraged on every ground: and it was natural to her boyish temperament to be careless of such things. When, in addition to these shortcomings, she added a propensity for making people “uncomfortable,” one can quite understand that her brother did not feel specially proud of her, and the strength of her character probably made it difficult for him to influence her through the passionate affection and admiration she had cherished for him all through her childhood. In any case the relation between them became somewhat strained, and it is not surprising if she sometimes attributed the strictures of her parents to his influence and representations.

“I really don’t think you would enjoy having Carry visit at school, even if we could spare her,” Mrs. Jex-Blake writes in response to an eager request for this privilege. “You would be tempted to act odd and excitable, and then Carry would be vexed and everyone would be uncomfortable,” and anyone who knew the older sister can’t doubt that such displays of affection would likely have “vexed” her more than most. On the other hand, “Brother” was now a young man, and if his main wish for the child was that she should grow up like the sisters of other men, he only shared the attitude that was common at that time among the overwhelming majority of his gender. It’s clear that his younger sister must have tested him quite a bit. The notion that she was plain and even ugly had been firmly instilled in her: showing vanity in how she dressed had been discouraged for various reasons, and it was natural for her boyish temperament to be indifferent to such things. When, on top of these shortcomings, she had a tendency to make people “uncomfortable,” it’s easy to see why her brother didn’t feel particularly proud of her, and her strong character probably made it hard for him to influence her through the deep affection and admiration she had for him throughout her childhood. In any case, their relationship became somewhat strained, and it’s not surprising if she sometimes blamed her parents’ criticisms on his influence and suggestions.

It is delightful to record that, in spite of countless differences of opinion and much plain speaking on both sides, a fine loyal camaraderie existed between the sisters throughout life.

It’s great to note that, despite many differences of opinion and a lot of direct talking from both sides, a strong sense of loyalty and friendship remained between the sisters throughout their lives.

I don’t know whether it ever occurred to the child to compare her brother’s education with her own. If she had done so, the reflection might well have made her bitter. In athletics as in the schools he was bearing off laurels at every turn, while she was being curbed and thwarted to meet the requirements of pious and half-educated schoolmistresses. From the best of motives her parents refused for her the outlet for the “excitability” they constantly deprecated; in other words they simply sat on the safety valve. In the summer of 1854 she begged—probably not for the first time—to be allowed to have riding lessons. The father replied

I don’t know if it ever crossed the child’s mind to compare her education to her brother’s. If she had, it might have left her feeling resentful. In sports, just like in school, he was winning awards left and right, while she was being held back and restricted to meet the expectations of pious and half-educated teachers. With the best intentions, her parents denied her the chance to release the “excitability” they often criticized; basically, they were just stifling her. In the summer of 1854, she pleaded—likely for the umpteenth time—to be allowed to take riding lessons. Her father responded

“I like to do anything in reason to please my own child, but you are so very excitable and have at present so lamentably little self-command that I should fear riding for you very much. It would 30do you no good and might be injurious to you in many ways. When will you prove to me that my hopes and expectations of you are not in vain?... You don’t know how the hearing you censured goes to my heart, and the not being able to place the most unbounded confidence in you is very trying to me and the dear Mother,—doubly so to her in her weak state.”

“I like to do whatever I can to make my child happy, but you are so easily excited and currently have so little self-control that I would be really worried about riding with you. It wouldn't help you and could actually be harmful in many ways. When will you show me that my hopes and expectations for you aren't pointless?... You have no idea how much it hurts me to hear you criticized, and not being able to fully trust you is really difficult for both me and dear Mother—especially for her in her fragile state.”

Of course it is easy now to see that he was wrong as regards the riding. Apart altogether from the physical exercise involved, the discipline of it would have been excellent. Big emergencies always braced her. She never lost her temper with a horse, nor her presence of mind in an accident.

It's easy to see now that he was wrong about riding. Aside from the physical exercise, the discipline it requires would have been great. Big emergencies always motivated her. She never lost her cool with a horse or her composure in an accident.

Meanwhile the series of loving reproachful letters goes steadily on.

Meanwhile, the series of affectionate yet critical letters continues steadily.

“Do you think, darling,” her Father writes, “that by divine grace you are less self-willed day by day? How earnestly do I desire to see you a loving happy child. Everybody seems to deprecate your presence as that which will spread discomfort all around.... God bless you and help you and give you His Holy Spirit to guide you continually.”

“Do you think, darling,” her Father writes, “that by divine grace you're becoming less stubborn each day? I really want to see you as a loving, happy child. Everyone seems to think your presence brings discomfort to those around you.... God bless you and help you, and may He give you His Holy Spirit to guide you always.”

“Everybody” was an overstatement. At no time was the child without her own little circle of admiring friends. A schoolfellow with whom she remained on terms of intimate friendship throughout life says,—“At our house she was always good and happy, and a very welcome guest. My father thought very highly of her.”

“Everybody” was a bit of an exaggeration. The child was never without her own little group of admiring friends. A schoolmate, who stayed close to her throughout life, says, “At our house, she was always kind and cheerful, and a very welcome guest. My dad thought very highly of her.”

A fortnight later Mrs. Jex-Blake writes:

A couple of weeks later, Mrs. Jex-Blake writes:

“I rejoice at the nice accounts I have of you from school, and I hope (against experience) that you will when we see you again, be a pleasant child, the comfort you might so easily be to me.”

“I’m really happy to hear nice things about you from school, and I hope (even though I shouldn’t) that when we see you again, you’ll be a cheerful kid, the comfort you could easily be for me.”

“Day and night,” her Father writes, “you are on my heart. You know how I love you. Why will you thus be your own enemy?”

“Day and night,” her father writes, “you’re always in my thoughts. You know how much I love you. Why do you keep working against yourself?”

The faith and perseverance of the parents is astounding: not less so the fact that at bottom the affection and filial piety of the child never flagged.

The faith and perseverance of the parents is amazing: just as remarkable is the fact that underneath it all, the child's love and respect for their parents never wavered.

One has to remind oneself constantly—what the daughter never forgot, though small trace of it appears in the letters of this period—that Mrs. Jex-Blake had a keen sense of humour. 31When she and Sophy were together, they had many a good joke in common. It was when the mesmerism of the child’s presence was removed that the sense of responsibility asserted itself in full force. It is impossible to read the long series of letters without being profoundly convinced,—1. That the parents were devotedly attached to their youngest child (“Sophy was the favourite,” was the elder sister’s deliberate comment some sixty years later). 2. That their affection was returned with an intensity of which few children are capable. 3. That the warning that she was injuring her Mother’s health and must therefore be kept away from her dearly-loved home did not provide a motive strong enough to make the child run in harness like other people. The inference is that no motive would have been strong enough.

You have to keep reminding yourself—something the daughter never forgot, although only a small hint of it shows in the letters from this time—that Mrs. Jex-Blake had a great sense of humor. 31 When she and Sophy were together, they shared plenty of good jokes. It was only when the magic of the child’s presence faded that the weight of responsibility fully kicked in. You can't read the lengthy series of letters without being deeply convinced—1. That the parents were deeply devoted to their youngest child (“Sophy was the favorite,” was the older sister's deliberate comment about sixty years later). 2. That their affection was matched by an intensity that few children possess. 3. That the warning that she was harming her mother's health and therefore had to be kept away from her beloved home wasn't enough to make the child conform like others. The implication is that no motivation would have been strong enough.

Did she ever really make an honest effort? One comes upon many impassioned scraps of prayer for grace to resist temptation. “Oh, that when a word irritates me I may remember how often I have said more unkind things and been forgiven.” “Oh, Lord, punish me, reduce me to submission in any way Thou seest fit, but oh, let me not alone, abandon me not despite my wickedness.” And, although these prayers are apt to run into conventional exaggerated language, it is impossible to doubt their sincerity. Her tiny booklets and papers were always kept with the strictest secrecy, and it is all but certain that no eye but her own ever saw them before her death.

Did she really ever make a genuine effort? You come across many heartfelt snippets of prayer asking for the strength to resist temptation. “Oh, when a word annoys me, let me remember how often I've said more hurtful things and have been forgiven.” “Oh, Lord, punish me, bring me to submission in any way You see fit, but please, don’t leave me alone, don’t abandon me despite my wrongdoings.” And while these prayers may often involve clichéd, exaggerated expressions, it’s hard to doubt their authenticity. Her little booklets and papers were always kept under strict secrecy, and it’s almost certain that no one else ever saw them before her death.

Here is an isolated scrap of diary, recording probably a time of special effort.

Here’s a lone piece of a diary, likely capturing a time of significant effort.

“Feb. 26th, 1854. Oh, keep Thou my foot when I go up into Thy house of prayer. O how difficult it is to fix the mind for even that short time! Miss X. will treat me unlike any other human being, but that is no reason for transgressing the commandment of my God. She says she does not like to hear me name the name of Christ for I do not depart from iniquity, she thinks I had better not hold conversations on sacred subjects.

“Feb. 26th, 1854. Oh, keep my foot steady when I go into Your house of prayer. It’s so hard to focus my mind for even that short time! Miss X. will treat me differently than anyone else, but that’s no excuse for breaking my God’s commandment. She says she doesn’t like to hear me mention the name of Christ because I don’t turn away from wrongdoing; she thinks I should avoid talking about sacred subjects.”

A complaint having been made of rudeness from one of the girls, Miss X. said it was just like one of Sophy’s tricks, heaven knows with what ground. All these things have aggravated me, and I fear I have sadly given way to temper and pride, not remembering Him who bare the contradiction of sinners against Himself though 32He never offended in word or deed. If sometimes unjustly spoken to, how often have I escaped my desert and how few are the faults the strictest find compared with an all-seeing God. Oh, for the charity that beareth all things....

A complaint was made about rudeness from one of the girls, and Miss X. said it was just like one of Sophy’s tricks, though I don't know why. All these things have stressed me out, and I’m afraid I’ve let my temper and pride get the best of me, forgetting the one who endured the criticism of sinners against Himself, even though He never did anything wrong. If I’m sometimes treated unfairly, how often have I avoided my own punishment, and how few are the faults that the strictest people point out compared to what an all-seeing God sees. Oh, for the love that endures everything...

27th Monday. I must expect trials this day, humiliating to my pride and trying to my temper....

27th Monday. I should expect challenges today that will be humiliating to my pride and test my patience....

Nothing special, though I gave way sadly at different times and again sinned in sending a letter to Mama [? Maria].

Nothing special, but I reluctantly gave in at different times and once again made the mistake of sending a letter to Mom.

28th. Again, more and more against light, got sweets. Miss X. in her prayer speaks at poor Agnes who is just come. She prays that all may be kind to her, remembering the Fatherless and Widow are His special care, etc. How could she harrow up poor Agnes’ feelings so! The poor child was weeping under the infliction.... And in the prayer she announced her intention of expelling anyone who would make the others unhappy. O I could have knocked her down, and after prayers she really spoke kindly to me about beginning March afresh and any other time I could almost have promised to try. As it was I could not kiss her even. Oh how much I think of that which might and probably did proceed from a pure motive, and do not consider my unkindness often which I know does not do so.

28th. Once again, more and more illuminated, I got some sweets. Miss X. in her prayer spoke about poor Agnes, who had just arrived. She prayed that everyone would be nice to her, remembering that the Fatherless and Widow are under His special care, etc. How could she upset poor Agnes like that! The poor girl was crying because of it.... And in the prayer, she declared her intention to expel anyone who would make others unhappy. Oh, I could have knocked her down, and after the prayer, she actually spoke kindly to me about starting fresh in March, and any other time I might have almost promised to try. As it was, I couldn’t even kiss her. Oh, how much I think of what might have come from a pure motive, and I often overlook my own unkindness, which I know doesn't come from one.

March 1. Whole holiday. Gave way to passion to A. and B. tho’ perhaps they were provoking I should better have striven to retain my temper. Alas from my feelings since it seems as if it were the letting in of water. O preserve me from being so awfully passionate as I was. Overbearing and ordering in the afternoon. Oh for the Charity which ‘is kind’ which ‘is not puffed up’ ‘seeketh not her own’ and above all which ‘is not easily provoked’.”

March 1. Full holiday. I let my emotions take over with A. and B. Even though they might have been pushing my buttons, I should have tried harder to keep my cool. Oh, how my feelings have been pouring out! Please save me from being as intensely passionate as I was. I was domineering and bossy in the afternoon. Oh, for the kindness that “is patient,” that “is not arrogant,” “does not seek its own,” and above all, that “is not easily angered.”

She had no lack of self-control in other ways: why should she have failed so conspicuously in this? When all due weight is given to the reasons already assigned one is still forced to the conclusion that there was something elemental in her nature over which she not only had little control, but of which she was to a great extent unconscious. As a mere child she expresses her thankfulness in a letter to her Mother that she is less “irritable,” and at rare intervals all through life she would speak to intimate friends of the intolerable way in which the blood rushed to her head at times, making it all but impossible for her to weigh her words. But from first to last she was far less conscious of the moral aspect of the defect than one would have expected anyone of her sane judgment and essential humility to be. The severe self-analysis 33of the above extracts are on the whole exceptional. From childhood on, the thought that she had failed those she loved or had caused them anxiety and suffering, in a way that she understood, was a source of almost intolerable pain and compunction; but she seems to have rarely and inadequately realized the extent of the suffering she inflicted by her wilful ways and passionate temper.

She had no shortage of self-control in other areas: why did she struggle so obviously with this? Even after considering all the reasons already given, it's clear that there was something fundamental in her nature that she not only struggled to control but was also largely unaware of. As a child, she expressed her gratitude in a letter to her mother for being less “irritable,” and occasionally throughout her life, she would tell close friends about the unbearable way the blood would rush to her head at times, making it nearly impossible for her to think about her words carefully. However, from start to finish, she was much less aware of the moral implications of her flaws than one might expect from someone with her sound judgment and basic humility. The intense self-reflection in the above extracts is, for the most part, unusual. From childhood onward, the idea that she had failed those she loved or caused them worry and pain, in a way that she understood, was a nearly unbearable source of distress and guilt; yet she seemed to rarely and insufficiently grasp the extent of the pain she caused with her stubborn behavior and fiery temper.

“And yet there was always something loveable with it all,” a childhood’s friend reiterates. “She came bounding into a room, bringing with her an atmosphere of gaiety and glee that is indescribable.”

“And yet there was always something lovable about it all,” a childhood friend repeats. “She would come bursting into a room, bringing with her an indescribable atmosphere of joy and excitement.”

Nor are we as regards the judgments of contemporaries confined to the possibly idealized picture of later years. Fortunately for the accuracy of the picture, Sophy seems about this time to have originated in the school a practice of character-writing, in which the critics were encouraged to be absolutely frank. This is what she brought upon herself:

Nor are we limited to the possibly idealized image of later years when it comes to the judgments of our contemporaries. Luckily for the accuracy of the depiction, Sophy appears to have started a practice of character-writing in the school around this time, in which the critics were encouraged to be completely honest. This is what she brought upon herself:

“Sophy is very affectionate and has more good in her than people think, she is truthful and can be trusted. She has an immense amount of self-conceit, self-sufficiency and pride. She will not be led by anything but affection, or a desire to make much of herself, and make herself well thought of. She has great talents and is very clever. She wishes to be thought an out-of-the-way character and is so. She lacks gentleness of feeling and manner.”

"Sophy is very loving and has more goodness in her than people realize; she is honest and can be trusted. She has a lot of self-importance, independence, and pride. She will only be influenced by love or a desire to promote herself and be well-regarded. She has amazing talents and is very smart. She wants to be seen as someone unique, and she is. However, she lacks kindness in her feelings and behavior."

“Sophy is certainly excessively clever but unfortunately knows it, and makes a point of showing it off upon every possible occasion. She is truthfulness itself and can really be trusted. Very passionate but very penitent afterwards. Affectionate.”

“Sophy is definitely extremely intelligent but unfortunately knows it, and she makes sure to flaunt it at every opportunity. She is completely truthful and can truly be relied upon. Very passionate but very remorseful afterward. Caring.”

“Clever, passionate, affectionate. Many bad habits but tries (lately at least) to get the better of them. Might be made a great deal of. Rather too fond of her own opinion. I think true.”

“Smart, passionate, caring. Many bad habits but is trying (at least lately) to overcome them. Could be highly valued. A bit too attached to her own opinions. I think that's true.”

It is rather staggering to find how much wiser the young folks were in those days than were their elders!

It’s pretty amazing to see how much smarter young people were back then compared to their parents!

Again Sophy propounds the question whether A. or E. is “the greater pet.” The discussion goes on in writing, and finally the originator ends it by saying:

Again, Sophy asks whether A. or E. is “the greater pet.” The discussion continues in writing, and eventually, the one who started it concludes by saying:

“At any rate A. is the only friend I have got, and I don’t want to lose her.”

“At any rate, A. is the only friend I have, and I don’t want to lose her.”

34To which D. responds:

To which D. replies:

“You are wise, but she is not the only friend you might have.”

“You're smart, but she's not your only friend.”

And Sophy all too proud:

And Sophy was too proud:

“There are only one or two others I could have as a friend.”

And finally M.:

And finally, M.:

“As to your friends, I quite agree with D. I think you might have had many. I know you might have had me long ere this, had you tried.”

“As for your friends, I totally agree with D. I think you could have had many. I know you could have had me a long time ago if you had tried.”

Of another schoolfellow under discussion Sophy explains that she finds the young lady personally “aggravating,” and adds:

Of another classmate being talked about, Sophy explains that she finds the young woman personally “annoying,” and adds:

“But I think she is very ingenuous, and would own to a thing, even to a little one, which is a great thing considering her pride.

“But I think she is very genuine and would admit to something, even a small thing, which is a big deal considering her pride.

That is what I do admire so ardently.

That’s what I truly admire.

Sophie.”

CHAPTER IV
SCHOOL LIFE—Concluded

It will surprise no one who has read the extracts from Sophy’s diary on page 32 to learn that, at the end of the summer term, Miss X. announced her inability to keep her any longer in the school. The culprit evidently declined to manifest any proper sense of sin or even of humiliation; and the distress of her parents may be imagined. They recognized no other standard by which to judge her than the standard by which poor Sophy had so egregiously failed.

It won’t surprise anyone who has read the excerpts from Sophy’s diary on page 32 to find out that, at the end of the summer term, Miss X. announced she could no longer keep her in the school. The culprit clearly showed no real sense of guilt or even embarrassment; and we can only imagine the distress of her parents. They had no other way to judge her than the same standard by which poor Sophy had so badly failed.

In any case their kindness never faltered: they could not face having the child at home, and for some months they did not even see her; but some “kind ladies” were found to take charge of her until she could be put temporarily in the care of her old schoolmistress, Mrs. Teed.

In any case, their kindness never wavered: they couldn’t handle having the child at home, and for a few months, they didn’t even see her; but some “kind ladies” were found to take care of her until she could be temporarily placed with her old schoolmistress, Mrs. Teed.

Very soon a reassuring report came to relieve the anxious parents. On July 10th, 1854, Mrs. Jex-Blake writes:

Very soon, a reassuring update arrived to comfort the anxious parents. On July 10th, 1854, Mrs. Jex-Blake writes:

“I delight to think that my dear child is availing herself of this great opportunity of redeeming her character. The past is so sad, so disappointing, and the thinking of it is so sure to make me ill, that I endeavour with my utmost power to forget it. I will not dwell upon it, but look forward to a bright future when my own dear child ... will see that determination and self-willedness can only cause misery and discomfort to herself, and wellnigh shorten, certainly embitter my old age.

"I’m really happy to think that my dear child is taking advantage of this great chance to improve her character. The past is so sad and disappointing, and just thinking about it is bound to make me feel sick, so I try my hardest to forget it. I won’t focus on it, but instead look forward to a bright future when my dear child ... will realize that being stubborn and self-willed can only bring her misery and discomfort, and almost certainly shorten, if not make my old age bitter."

I do feel greatly comforted by Mrs. Teed’s giving a favourable account of you. She would like you to be less idle. Why do not you write out some papers about your natural philosophy subjects and zoology?”

I really feel reassured by Mrs. Teed’s positive comments about you. She wants you to be less lazy. Why don’t you write some papers on your topics in natural philosophy and zoology?

“Well, darling,” her Father writes (July 17th), “I was very glad to get your letter, though I should like you to write more wisely. 36I don’t at all mind your writing about ‘unkind lectures’ for I know I never am and cannot be unkind to my own child; but I do earnestly wish that you saw (as others do) how exceedingly foolish your conduct has been, and that by nothing but a complete change can you ever be comfortable.”

“Well, darling,” her father writes (July 17th), “I was really happy to get your letter, but I wish you would write more thoughtfully. 36I don’t mind you mentioning ‘unkind lectures’ because I know I’m never unkind to my own child; however, I truly wish you could see (like others do) just how foolish your behavior has been, and that only a complete change can bring you any comfort.”

Meanwhile arrangements were being made for the child to go to another school, and one is thankful to record that it was at least a great improvement on its predecessors. On July 21st, 1854, Mr. Jex-Blake writes:

Meanwhile, plans were being made for the child to attend another school, and it's worth noting that it was at least a significant improvement over the previous ones. On July 21st, 1854, Mr. Jex-Blake writes:

“We have had a letter from Mrs. H. this morning, and it is now settled that G.W. you go to her the beginning of next month and Mrs. T. will take you and kindly give you the benefit of her introduction. You will go under the most advantageous circumstances possible, and it will be solely and entirely your own fault, my darling child, if everybody about you does not love you.”

“We got a letter from Mrs. H. this morning, and it’s now decided that G.W. will go to her at the beginning of next month, and Mrs. T. will take you and generously give you the benefit of her introduction. You’ll be going under the best possible circumstances, and it will be entirely your own fault, my dear child, if everyone around you doesn’t love you.”

A month later he writes again:

A month later, he writes again:

“My sweet Child,

“My sweet child,”

I have just read your letter to the dear Mother.... Your letter gives me great pleasure, it is so sensible, and the tone throughout so like that of a dear dear child, who will never knowingly again give a minute’s pain to the very best of Mothers, that I felt I could not be happy without writing to my darling at once to tell her how I look forward to her being a real comfort to dearest Mummy, and a constant ‘sunbeam’ to me.... I believe the happy feeling of confidence she has about you now is doing more for her than all the doctors in the world.”

I just read your letter to our dear mother.... Your letter brings me so much joy; it’s so thoughtful, and the tone throughout feels just like that of a beloved child who would never intentionally cause a moment's pain to the best of mothers. I felt I couldn't be happy without writing to my darling right away to tell her how much I look forward to her being a real comfort to our dearest Mummy and a constant ‘sunbeam’ for me.... I truly believe that the happy confidence she has about you now is helping her more than all the doctors in the world.

A fortnight later he paid the child a visit, to which she refers in the following letter:

A couple of weeks later, he visited the child, which she mentions in the following letter:

“11th Sept. 1854.

Darling Father,

Dear Dad,

You know what immense pleasure I had on Friday. I often think of it even now it is past, I feel so glad to have seen you; but Daddy I am so sorry about the boat. I cannot forget it and I am very sorry,—will you forgive me?

You know what a great time I had on Friday. I still think about it even now that it's over, and I'm really glad I got to see you; but Dad, I'm really sorry about the boat. I can't stop thinking about it and I feel terrible—will you forgive me?

Do come down tomorrow just to say goodbye. You know you can come down by the omnibus you took on Friday and just sit for an hour or so and then go back. You can be back by luncheon time or nearly and it would be such a pleasure. I cannot get an answer to this by letter but hope to secure one by ocular demonstration. I saw Miss B. and gave your message, but I fear unless you do as I hope you will that its fulfilment will be rather distant. We could just go in the Crescent Gardens or even sit still together in the 37drawing-room for one hour (just one) and it would be so enjoyable. I have so many things yet to say. You know we had so much walking and eating and shopping to get through on Friday that I was not able to tell you half the things I had to say.

Please come down tomorrow just to say goodbye. You know you can take the bus you rode on Friday and just sit for about an hour before heading back. You should be back by lunchtime or close to it, and it would mean so much to me. I can't get a response through letters, but I hope to get one in person. I talked to Miss B. and passed along your message, but I’m worried that if you don’t do as I hope, it might take a while to fulfill that. We could just go to the Crescent Gardens or even sit together in the 37living room for one hour (just one), and it would be really nice. I still have so much I want to say. We were so busy walking, eating, and shopping on Friday that I didn’t get to tell you half of what I wanted to.

If you have arranged for me to come home in 3 weeks time I will try to reconcile myself to not seeing you if it is really impossible or very inconvenient in joyful hope, but in that case I shall hope for a nice long letter (but even then I should not be sorry to see your darling face for an hour or so) on Wednesday. If not (but I hope no ‘not’ will be in the question) I think you will yourself think that considering that I have not seen you since about Jan. 26th, except for 3½ hours and should not see you till Christmas that really one hour would not be lost on your youngest little one. I am hourly experiencing the comfort of your last visit (I am now writing with some of the paper and a pen of your gift) and your face was like a sunbeam in the way. I want to feel your rough cheek once more, though I hope your Missis won’t let you come so unshaven and unshorn as you did last time. I did delight in your beautiful flowers which are even now on the chimney-piece—one flower I prized above all the rest—I could almost fancy Mother picked it—a little tiny bit of jasmine (I don’t know if that’s spelt right). It is so nice. Will you remember to bring some stamps tomorrow.

If you’re planning for me to come home in 3 weeks, I’ll try to get used to not seeing you if it’s truly impossible or very inconvenient, but I’m really hoping for a nice long letter (though I wouldn’t mind seeing your adorable face for an hour or so) on Wednesday. If that doesn’t happen (but I hope there won’t be a ‘no’ in that), I think you’ll agree that considering I haven’t seen you since about January 26th, except for 3½ hours, and won’t see you until Christmas, one hour wouldn’t be too much for your youngest little one. I’m constantly feeling the comfort of your last visit (I’m currently writing with some of the paper and a pen you gave me), and your face was like a ray of sunshine. I want to feel your rough cheek once more, though I hope your Missis won’t let you come looking so unshaven and unkempt as you did last time. I really loved your beautiful flowers, which are still on the mantel—there’s one flower I treasured above all the others—I could almost imagine Mother picked it—a tiny piece of jasmine (I hope I spelled that right). It’s so lovely. Will you remember to bring some stamps tomorrow?

Darling Father I am so anxious to see you again. About 11½ I shall be on the tiptoe of hope. You won’t disappoint Sody? You didn’t say it was impossible to come, and if it is possible you will. Do bring a few more flowers please. Those stones of Cousin Jane’s were lovely. Oh, I was so delighted with them.

Darling Father, I can’t wait to see you again. Around 11:30, I’ll be filled with hope. You won’t let Sody down, will you? You didn’t say it was impossible for you to come, so if it’s possible, I know you will. Please bring a few more flowers. Those stones from Cousin Jane were beautiful. Oh, I was so happy with them.

Hoping very very soon to see you, I need not write a very long letter but please give my best love to my darling darling Mother.

Hoping to see you very soon, I don’t need to write a long letter, but please send my love to my dear, dear Mom.

I am just taxing my small brain to make up a story of a martyrdom in Pagan Rome,—a sort of martyrdom at least; it is meant to be very affecting, but I don’t know if it is. I will show it you tomorrow I hope.

I’m just pushing my little brain to come up with a story about a martyr in Pagan Rome—a kind of martyrdom at least; it’s supposed to be really moving, but I’m not sure if it is. I’ll show it to you tomorrow, I hope.

Best best love,

Sophie.

If you have got leave for me to come home it will be so much more if you come by yourself to tell me, and if not, if not it will certainly need all your presence to comfort me.”

If you can take the time to come home, it would mean so much more if you come by yourself to tell me. If that’s not possible, then I’ll really need you there to comfort me.

Among other little gifts, on the occasion of this visit, her Father had given her a tiny note book, which she utilises at once as a diary:

Among other small gifts, during this visit, her father had given her a tiny notebook, which she immediately used as a diary:

“Went to sleep with a sore throat ... and a bit of mignonette on my bosom. Darling Mother, how I treasure her flowers.

“Went to sleep with a sore throat ... and a bit of mignonette on my chest. Dear Mom, how I cherish her flowers.”

3815th. Knew all my lessons better to-day, and kept my place as 2nd.... Had a note from Carry. Hurrah, people don’t know how nice it is to get a note at school. Done all my algebra for Mr. R. It strikes me we can do those problems in Kavanagh by equations.”

3815th. I understood all my lessons better today and held my position as 2nd.... I received a note from Carry. Hurrah, people don't realize how great it is to get a note at school. Finished all my algebra for Mr. R. It seems to me we can solve those problems in Kavanagh using equations.

The joy of this discovery! “Problems” became her passion: she begged friends to send her some to solve, and took a mischievous pleasure in sending them herself occasionally to those who had not been so fortunate as to find the master-key of the “unknown quantity.” Sister Carry writes:

The joy of this discovery! “Problems” turned into her passion: she asked her friends to send her some to solve, and took a cheeky pleasure in occasionally sending them herself to those who hadn’t been lucky enough to find the master key to the “unknown quantity.” Sister Carry writes:

“Many thanks for your letters and numerous sums; I think the latter are rather overwhelming to me. I think I ought to have a little more instruction when you come, so please don’t send me any more at present.”

“Thanks a lot for your letters and the many amounts; the latter are a bit overwhelming for me. I think I should get a little more guidance when you visit, so please don’t send me any more for now.”

The diary continues:

The journal goes on:

“Did Cousin Jane’s equation and am very glad I have got such a sensible cousin. Made one to send her, and then couldn’t answer it myself.”

“Did Cousin Jane’s equation and I’m really glad to have such a sensible cousin. I made one to send her, and then couldn’t solve it myself.”

As cricket, tennis and hockey were unheard of in the girls’ school of those days, and as the child was not allowed to ride or to dance, it is scarcely surprising to learn that she was again troubled with weakness of the joints. Mrs. H. took her to one “Professor Georgii” and the school doctor met them at his house. The patient’s account of the interview is interesting in view of later developments:

As cricket, tennis, and hockey were not known at the girls’ school back then, and since the child wasn’t allowed to ride or dance, it’s hardly surprising that she was once again dealing with joint weakness. Mrs. H. took her to see a “Professor Georgii,” and the school doctor met them at his home. The patient's description of the meeting is intriguing considering what happened later:

“Then he went into another room which was rather dark. Dr. L. said, ‘I suppose I may come too. I am the physician,’ and G. said, ‘I suppose so’!”

“Then he went into another room that was pretty dark. Dr. L. said, ‘I guess I can come too. I'm the doctor,’ and G. replied, ‘I guess so!’”

The two men examined her spine—the headmistress, of course, being present—

The two men looked at her spine, with the headmistress, of course, being there.

“and after about ten minutes I was allowed to dress with the 2 men staring at me. I think they might have let us retire....

“and after about ten minutes, I was allowed to get dressed while the 2 men were watching me. I think they might have let us leave....

The room for exercises is hung all round with prints of skeletons and flayed human beings, tho’ for a mercy they were covered with sort of curtains and only partially visible.”

The exercise room is decorated all around with prints of skeletons and stripped human bodies, but thankfully they were covered with some curtains and only partially visible.

She was condemned to an hour’s remedial exercises every day for six weeks, and as it took double that time to make 39the pilgrimage to and from the “Professor’s” house, three fatiguing hours were taken out of her working day.

She was sentenced to an hour of extra practice every day for six weeks, and since it took twice that long to travel to and from the "Professor's" house, three exhausting hours were taken from her workday.

And all for want of a few games in due season.

And all for the lack of a few games at the right time.

The “sheer stuff of life” was proving educative enough at this time, for Mrs. Jex-Blake and Sister Carry were both alarmingly ill, the latter with some contagious fever, the nature of which is not specified. It is touching to see the Father’s letters to his schoolgirl daughter: the handwriting has all at once become shaky and feeble, like that of an old man.

The "sheer stuff of life" was proving to be quite educational at this time, as Mrs. Jex-Blake and Sister Carry were both seriously ill, the latter with a contagious fever that isn’t specified. It's heartwarming to see the Father's letters to his schoolgirl daughter: the handwriting has suddenly become shaky and weak, like that of an old man.

“I write in the dear Mother’s room,” he says in November, 1854, “in which and in sweet Carry’s I pass the greater part of the day. They have both been very ill, but I think I may say that now both are beginning to mend.... From the beginning of their illnesses they have never been able to see each other.... Oh, my darling child, I must not conceal from you the danger the best of Mothers has been in. God give you to value her more than ever, and keep you from ever, by disobedience of any kind, hurting her feelings and giving her pain.”

“I’m writing from dear Mother’s room,” he says in November 1854, “where I spend most of my day, along with sweet Carry. They’ve both been very ill, but I think I can say they’re starting to get better now. From the start of their illnesses, they haven’t been able to see each other. Oh, my darling child, I can’t hide from you the danger that the best of Mothers has been in. I hope you come to appreciate her even more and that you never, through any kind of disobedience, hurt her feelings or cause her pain.”

Two days later he writes again in answer to her eager enquiries,

Two days later, he writes back in response to her eager questions,

“If, darling, I can buy anything with your money that I think Mummy or Carry will be pleased with, be sure I will.”

“If I can buy anything with your money that I think Mom or Carry will like, you can bet I will.”

And again, three weeks later,

And once more, three weeks later,

“My dear child,—Your letters give me great pleasure, but, great though it be, I will most willingly give it up to dearest Mother and Sister when they are well enough to read and write letters.”

“My dear child,—Your letters bring me so much joy, but even though I cherish them, I will gladly give that joy up to dearest Mother and Sister when they are well enough to read and write letters.”

On Dec. 5th, 1854, his mind is sufficiently at ease to write a truly delightful letter, though the handwriting is still shaky:

On December 5th, 1854, he feels relaxed enough to write a genuinely lovely letter, although his handwriting is still a bit unsteady:

“First and most substantially (if not principally) the “plum pudding” plan. It is really a capital one—‘The Crimea Army Fund’ or some such title it bears, and subscriptions are pouring in to it from high and low—donations of hundreds of pounds down to sixpences. It does not in any way interfere with the sending out of what you rightly enough consider are things of still greater importance; and which (much later than it ought to have been) the government and the public are now despatching to the poor sufferers. The intention is to send out vessel after vessel as quickly as possible, 40not only with materials for plum puddings and brown stout, but to help our poor soldiers, officers and privates, to get through the great hardships and privations of their severe winter campaign, as far as that can be managed. Warm extra clothing, flannel shirts and waistcoats, stockings, gloves, leather of various kinds, needles and thread, tea, tobacco, sugar, preserved and potted meats, raisins, sugar, wine, porter and a hundred other things in large quantities—enormous quantities—for at least 40 or 50,000 men.

“First and foremost (if not primarily) is the “plum pudding” initiative. It’s actually a great one—‘The Crimea Army Fund’ or something similar, and donations are streaming in from all directions—contributions ranging from hundreds of pounds to just a few pence. It does not in any way interfere with sending out what you rightly consider more important supplies; and which (much later than it should have been) the government and the public are now sending to the poor victims. The goal is to dispatch ship after ship as quickly as possible, not just with ingredients for plum puddings and brown stout, but to support our poor soldiers, both officers and privates, in enduring the severe hardships and deprivations of their harsh winter campaign, as much as we can manage. Warm extra clothing, flannel shirts and vests, socks, gloves, various types of leather, needles and thread, tea, tobacco, sugar, preserved and canned meats, raisins, sugar, wine, porter, and a hundred other items in large quantities—massive quantities—for at least 40 or 50,000 men.”

Noblemen are sending deer from their parks, and game to be potted and preserved and sent over, and some have offered their yachts to convey the good things; and tradespeople have come forward to give liberally from the stocks in their shops and warehouses. So I shall enclose 1s. and think you cannot do better than give it as your mite in the good cause. There are as you say ‘such hosts of things to subscribe to,’ and I am very thankful for the privilege God gives me of being able to help. It is one of the greatest luxuries we can enjoy, depend upon it, my own darling.... There is no literally ‘war news,’ this week, but there have been terrible disasters among the combined fleets in the Black Sea. A most furious storm there the middle of last month has sadly damaged many of the ships, and destroyed several—one went down laden with the intended winter store (in many articles) for our whole army,—forty thousand specially warm great coats, and numerous other things in proportion, which cannot be replaced instanter, and it is feared that very great suffering by thousands for some weeks must be the consequence. The loss of that one vessel and cargo is estimated at £1,000,000. But, worse than all the money loss, many hundred people perished in that and other vessels. Your cousin Robert, whom I don’t know that you ever saw even, embarks to-morrow for the Crimea. He is a young lieutenant in the 18th foot.

Noblemen are sending deer from their estates, and game to be prepared and shipped over, and some have even offered their yachts to transport the goods; local merchants have stepped forward to generously donate from their stock. So, I’m enclosing 1 shilling and think it’s best to contribute it as your small offering for the good cause. As you said, there are ‘so many things to subscribe to,’ and I’m really grateful for the opportunity God gives me to help. It’s one of the greatest luxuries we can enjoy, believe me, my dear... There isn't any actual ‘war news’ this week, but there have been terrible disasters involving the combined fleets in the Black Sea. A violent storm in the middle of last month has badly damaged many of the ships and sunk several—one went down carrying provisions intended for the winter supply of our whole army, including forty thousand specially warm greatcoats and many other items, which can't be quickly replaced, and it's feared that thousands will suffer greatly for weeks as a result. The loss of that one ship and its cargo is estimated at £1,000,000. But, more than the financial loss, many hundreds of people died on that and other vessels. Your cousin Robert, whom I don’t think you’ve ever met, is leaving tomorrow for the Crimea. He’s a young lieutenant in the 18th Foot.

I think if we keep of the same mind, we can manage a backgammon board when you come home, cups and all; only, as I am an old hand at it—having played, I should think almost half-a-century ago—you will expect, please, to be soundly beaten if we engage together. I have read ‘Patronage’—about the same period, perhaps, as when we played that game of backgammon, but I do think novels in general are very so-so things, and some so wondrous foolish that it is worse than waste of time to read them....

I think if we stay on the same page, we can handle a game of backgammon when you get home, cups and all; just know that since I’m an old pro—having played, I’d say almost fifty years ago—you should expect to get thoroughly beaten if we play together. I’ve read ‘Patronage’—probably around the same time we played that game of backgammon—but honestly, I think novels, in general, are pretty mediocre, and some are so ridiculously foolish that reading them is a total waste of time.

There was a good deal at Worthing ^[9] that was very pleasant, my sweet Sophy, and I can recollect it with satisfaction. If there was anything otherwise, it never even crosses my mind, I assure you; and do you get rid of all thoughts of it too. I have not the smallest doubt that, by God’s blessing, you will be a great ‘comfort’ to me. 41I have said so a thousand times, and you won’t prove Daddy a false prophet I know. I have nothing to ‘forgive’ my own child—nothing whatever, darling. You have had childish faults enough, I daresay, but they were ‘the faults of a child’ certainly, and I could not remember a single one of them.

There was a lot in Worthing ^[9] that was really nice, my sweet Sophy, and I can remember it fondly. If there was anything else, I honestly don’t even think about it; so you should let go of those thoughts too. I have no doubt that, with God’s blessing, you will be a great comfort to me. 41 I’ve said this a thousand times, and I know you won’t make Daddy a false prophet. I have nothing to forgive my own child—nothing at all, darling. You’ve probably had your share of childish mistakes, but they were definitely ‘the mistakes of a child,’ and I can’t remember a single one of them.

I won’t get a sore throat if I can help it, even for the sake of Sody’s black-currant jam; but, if I do catch one, I know I may have a whole jar if I want it, and I shall not perhaps like it the less that you made it. Love from all. I will not forget to come for you on the 23rd., my precious child. God keep you and bless you very much.

I won’t let myself get a sore throat if I can avoid it, even for Sody’s blackcurrant jam; but if I do get one, I know I can have a whole jar if I want, and I might even like it more knowing you made it. Love from everyone. I won’t forget to pick you up on the 23rd, my dear child. God keep you and bless you very much.

Your affect. Father,

T. Jex-Blake.”

At last, on December 13th, comes a letter from her Mother:

At last, on December 13th, a letter arrives from her Mom:

“Darling So,

I feel very thankful to be once more able to enjoy a letter from, and to write to you. I look forward with great pleasure to Saturday week, but pray try to be quiet in your joy when I meet you, because I am still weak and soon upset, and people will be very vexed with you if I am the worse. Above all I could wish that you did not get into trouble, and say and do what you should not, because it agitates me to hear of it. If you, my own darling child, could but once realise how trying you are by your impetuosity and restlessness, and (must I still say?) roughness, even when you are not put out, you would try very hard to conquer any outbreaking into extra roughness.

I’m really grateful to be able to enjoy your letters again and to write to you. I’m really looking forward to Saturday next week, but please try to contain your excitement when we meet, because I’m still feeling weak and get upset easily, and people will be frustrated with you if I feel worse. Most of all, I wish you wouldn’t get into trouble or say and do things you shouldn’t, because it stresses me out to hear about it. If you, my dear child, could just realize how difficult your impulsiveness and restlessness can be, and (must I still mention it?) your roughness, even when you’re not upset, you would really try hard to hold back any extra roughness.

And, indeed, dear So, God has bestowed upon you much wherewith you might be agreeable, and help others, if you would but avail yourself of it.”

And, indeed, dear So, God has given you a lot that could help you be likable and assist others, if you would just take advantage of it.”

Meanwhile the scrap of a diary goes on:

Meanwhile, the snippet of a diary continues:

“Dec. 16th.... Got a letter from my precious sister. She says she is nearly well, but she is so careless of self I half mistrust her account, especially as I am told by Mummy and Tom she is very thin and pale. She speaks of a chance of her being shaved. I hope to goodness she won’t, the darling....

“Dec. 16th.... I got a letter from my dear sister. She says she's almost better, but she's so careless about herself that I don’t fully trust what she says, especially since Mummy and Tom tell me she looks very thin and pale. She mentions the possibility of being shaved. I really hope she doesn’t, the sweetheart....”

Thinking of darling Dad’s birthday tomorrow. I hope I shall wake early and be first to wish him joy.... His last day to be 64! In his 66th year tomorrow. The darling. Sody hopes she’ll make him so happy yet. This day week, heigh ho! I must try and persuade Daddy to let me stay over Sunday. It will be but one lesson lost and two days gained and one a Sunday....

Thinking about Dad's birthday tomorrow. I hope I wake up early and am the first to wish him happiness.... It’s his last day being 64! He turns 66 tomorrow. He’s the best. Sody hopes she can make him really happy again. This time next week, oh boy! I need to try and convince Dad to let me stay over Sunday. It will only be one lesson missed and two days gained, one of which is Sunday....

17th. Dear Dad’s birthday. Woke up once I think, in the dark, and again before it was light to wish him many happy returns.”

17th. Dad's birthday. Woke up once, I think, in the dark, and again before it was light to wish him many happy returns.

42The wishing must have been volcanic in its intensity to judge by what follows:

42The desire must have been explosive in its intensity, considering what happened next:

“While dressing, Kate, who had not got up, woke up to ask if it was not his birthday, she had been dreaming it was, and that he in consequence was playing a duet on the piano with her, but would play the bass first, not together with her.... Mrs. H. ill, not up all day. No Mangnall.... I must have walked 6 miles at least. Wonderful for me. Had a dispute about extempore sermons, I saying it meant without written help, Mlle and Sarah saying people might have notes and yet be extempore. Mlle as politely and sapiently as usual called me nobody. She has neither sense nor temper to dispute. It is foolish to entangle myself with her. My dear Dad’s birthday nearly over.

“While getting dressed, Kate, who hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, woke up to ask if it was his birthday. She had been dreaming it was, and in the dream, he was playing a duet with her on the piano, but he would play the bass part first, not together with her.... Mrs. H. is sick and hasn’t gotten out of bed all day. No Mangnall.... I must have walked at least 6 miles. Amazing for me. I had a disagreement about extempore sermons; I said it meant without written help, while Mlle and Sarah argued that people could have notes and still be extempore. Mlle, as politely and wisely as usual, called me nobody. She has neither the sense nor the temperament to engage in a debate. It’s foolish to get involved with her. My dear Dad’s birthday is almost over.

18th.... [Mrs. H.] promised I should nurse her when I came back, and I did, and after dinner played chess and backgammon with Mrs. H. and Conny. Mrs. H. lent me Woodstock to read. Nice, but not equal to some of Scott’s.

18th.... [Mrs. H.] promised I could nurse her when I returned, and I did. After dinner, I played chess and backgammon with Mrs. H. and Conny. Mrs. H. lent me Woodstock to read. It was nice, but not as good as some of Scott's other works.

Turned out some of my letters from my pocket. Hope I have not turned out any I want of Carry’s, but they are safe in my glazed box.

Turned out some of my letters from my pocket. I hope I haven’t accidentally thrown away any of Carry’s, but they are safe in my glass box.

21st. At Georgii’s had a fuss with Conny in the dressing-room because I was complaining of having only a week and asked her if she would think a week enough with her Mother. She said no, but her Mother was better than mine. I was silly enough to be offended, and gave her two good slaps on her shoulders which were convenient, as I was doing her frock, and then we had a regular squabble.... I said it was very ungenerous. I should not have said it if she had been my guest far away from her friends, and I don’t believe I should, though my conscience smote me about Mary Bayley.”

21st. At Georgii’s, I had a fight with Conny in the dressing room because I was complaining about only having a week and asked her if she thought a week would be enough with her mom. She said no, but that her mom was better than mine. I was silly enough to be offended and gave her two good slaps on her shoulders since I was working on her dress. Then we got into a full-on argument... I told her it was really unkind. I wouldn’t have said that if she had been my guest far away from her friends, and I don’t think I would, even though I felt guilty about Mary Bayley.

This reference to Mary Bayley is interesting, as Sophy had been at no less than three schools since the days of their companionship. The persistent recollection of some trifling unkindness is a typical instance of the compunction she suffered when she hurt anyone in a way she understood.

This mention of Mary Bayley is intriguing, as Sophy had attended at least three schools since their time together. The ongoing memory of some minor unkindness is a classic example of the guilt she experienced whenever she hurt someone in a way she realized.

“Got such a jolly letter from Mummy as if she had half got back her mischief. Two bits of French, too, we are getting on. She certainly deserves a ‘satisfaisant’.”

“Received such a cheerful letter from Mom, as if she’s regained some of her playful spirit. We’re also making progress with our French. She definitely deserves a ‘satisfaisant.’”

When the Christmas holidays came on, Sophy’s course of exercises from the “Professor” was not nearly over, and a week’s interruption was the utmost that could be allowed. The holidays were long enough, however, to allow of another 43week at home towards the end of January. Her birthday fell in this second week, and suggestion was made that the two sisters should have a party and a “Christmas” tree. The correspondence about this little event is interesting as showing something of the conditions in which Sophy would be expected to settle down when her schooldays finally came to an end. The preparations contrast curiously with what young folk now-a-days, even in a much humbler walk of life, consider necessary on these occasions.

When the Christmas holidays arrived, Sophy's exercises from the "Professor" were far from finished, and only a week's break was permissible. However, the holidays were long enough to allow for another 43 week at home towards the end of January. Her birthday was in this second week, and it was suggested that the two sisters should have a party and a "Christmas" tree. The discussions around this small event are interesting as they reveal some of the circumstances in which Sophy would be expected to settle down when her school days eventually ended. The preparations are a striking contrast to what young people today, even those from much simpler backgrounds, consider essential for such occasions.

“13 Sussex Square,

10th Jan.

Darling So,

Darling So

I am so much better for the quiet I have had the last week that I think I may authorize you to ask Mrs. H. to advance you 4, or, if needful, 5 shillings to spend in little things for a Christmas tree. I am very anxious to have it if possible, and I think it entirely depends on the self-command you can exert over yourself; if you and Carry will go about it quietly, and you yield at once if I say I do not wish to add to our numbers, or if I object on any other point....

I feel so much better after the quiet I’ve had this past week that I think I can let you ask Mrs. H. to lend you 4, or if necessary, 5 shillings for some small things for a Christmas tree. I really want to have it if possible, and I believe it entirely depends on the self-control you can show; if you and Carry can approach it calmly and you agree right away if I say I don’t want to increase our numbers, or if I have any other concerns...

One thing I must tell you that I cannot have a great many, neither do I wish unnecessary expense,^[10] when the daily calls from societies where funds are failing and souls perishing for want are so numerous.”

One thing I need to tell you is that I can't have a great many, nor do I want to incur unnecessary expenses,^[10] when the daily requests from organizations with dwindling funds and people suffering without support are so frequent.

Sister Carry writes with characteristic calm and reasonableness:

Sister Carry writes with her usual calmness and rationality:

“13 Sussex Square,

January 11th.

Dear Sophy,

Dear Sophy

I suppose probabilities are now in favour of the Christmas tree. I don’t think it need do Mummy much harm, supposing affairs are conducted with very unusual prudence and quietness. We shall defer buying any ready-made-sweetmeat-ornaments (this is an 8-syllabled compound word) until you come home, and then I think Mummy will quite like that we should get them without her presence. I also think it will be very desirable (if possible) that we should dress up the tree without troubling her much; but I don’t know exactly how far we should be up to it. However, I think the 44most important points of all are that a certain friend of ours should endeavour to live in, and diffuse around her, a certain atmosphere of peace and calmness; and that the tree should be quite ready in very good time, so that there should be no bustle or worry about it towards the last.... I mean to try to provide (with pecuniary assistance from Mummy) some supply of purses, penwipers and markers for the tree; I think a couple of cut markers such as you gave Daddy the other day, on broad ribbon, would be very good; of course I mean them to be made by you. I suppose I shall probably have a letter from you tomorrow or Saturday; I consider I ought to have had one. With best love, I am, dear Sophy,

I guess the odds are now in favor of the Christmas tree. I don’t think it will harm Mom much, as long as we handle things with unusual caution and calmness. We’ll hold off on buying any ready-made candy ornaments (that’s an 8-syllable compound word) until you get home, and I think Mom will be happy for us to get them without her there. I also think it would be great (if possible) for us to decorate the tree without bothering her too much, but I’m not sure how far we can take that. However, I believe the most important things are that a certain friend of ours should try to create and spread an atmosphere of peace and calm, and that the tree should be all set up well in advance, so there’s no rush or stress about it at the end.... I plan to provide (with financial help from Mom) some supplies of purses, pen wipes, and markers for the tree; I think a couple of cut markers like the ones you gave Dad the other day, on wide ribbon, would be great; of course, I mean for them to be made by you. I expect I’ll probably get a letter from you tomorrow or Saturday; I feel like I should have already received one. With lots of love, I’m, dear Sophy,

Your very affectionate sister,

C.A. Jex-Blake.”

Presumably the little festival took place in due course, but there is no further reference to it among the papers. The strain of loving parental homilies continues.

Presumably, the little festival happened eventually, but there are no more mentions of it in the papers. The pressure of loving parental lectures goes on.

“Bear in mind that all our powers and faculties are perverted by the fall, but my child cannot be rid of her responsibility; if you say you cannot pray,—that is at once a subject for prayer. Down on your knees and tell God so.”

“Remember that all our abilities and strengths are messed up because of the fall, but my child still has to face her responsibility; if you say you can't pray,—that alone is a reason to pray. Get on your knees and tell God that.”

“I exceedingly like a letter from you, and bustle down a little earlier on Tuesday morning that I may have time to enjoy it before breakfast.... Cousins Kate and Elinor Jex-Blake say they do not at all delight in Mathematics, they are sorry to say.”

“I really like getting a letter from you, and I hurry down a bit earlier on Tuesday morning so I can enjoy it before breakfast.... Cousins Kate and Elinor Jex-Blake say they don’t enjoy Math at all, and they’re sorry to say that.”

“We are very sorry to disappoint you, but indeed we cannot sanction your going to see the ‘Wizard of the North.’ I do hope and believe you will submit cheerfully to give up what it would make me very sleepless and unhappy to have you go to. Now get a victory and believe the disappointment all for the best.”

“We're really sorry to let you down, but we can’t let you go see the 'Wizard of the North.' I sincerely hope you can accept this without too much trouble, as the thought of you going makes me very anxious and unhappy. Now focus on achieving something great and believe that this disappointment is ultimately for the best.”

“Though I am most decidedly better, it arises, I think, from perfect quiet, the least change or bustle brings on spasm or headache, or both. Carry had Punch, and thought you sent it. I don’t like it, I think it a vulgar paper, and don’t wish it sent. I don’t at all object to the ‘Illustrated News’ occasionally.”

“Even though I’m definitely feeling better, I think it’s due to complete peace; even the slightest change or activity triggers a spasm or headache, or sometimes both. Carry had Punch and thought you sent it. I don’t like it; I think it’s a tacky publication and don’t want it sent. I don’t mind the ‘Illustrated News’ every now and then.”

Apparently Sophy declined to sit down under this condemnation of her beloved Punch, for a fortnight later Mrs. Jex-Blake writes: “I will return both the Punches in the hamper. The last was capital.”

Apparently, Sophy refused to accept this criticism of her beloved Punch, because two weeks later, Mrs. Jex-Blake wrote: “I will return both Punches in the hamper. The last one was great.”

In May, 1855, a family holiday in Wales was proposed, and, as usual, the question was raised whether Sophy could 45be allowed to be of the party. There is no suggestion in all the correspondence that her Father ever wished to be rid of her company except on the ground of his wife’s health. On May 23rd Mrs. Jex-Blake writes:

In May 1855, a family vacation in Wales was suggested, and, as always, the question came up about whether Sophy could join the group. Throughout all the correspondence, there's no indication that her father ever wanted to be without her company, except for concerns about his wife's health. On May 23rd, Mrs. Jex-Blake writes:

“Daddy and I have a strong wish that you should see Wales, and it is truly painful to deny you such a pleasure and advantage but you see, dear, I can’t help my health, and the being so easily upset and made ill by worry. Indeed I am grieved to find you can fully understand this, for you say your head aches if you get excited; but, darling, strive to go on with your different duties and don’t get excited.... Now, sweetest, assure me that you will try to be controlled by me, and try to fall into our habits, not always restless and having some grand scheme of your own that must be carried out.... I do not ask you to promise, but if next week you feel you can, looking to God, assure me you will to the utmost try to be a comfort and not break out in these violent excitements, which not only upset me at the time but haunt and disturb me at night,... we are wonderfully anxious to give you the pleasure, but meanwhile don’t be excited at school about it.

“Daddy and I really want you to see Wales, and it’s truly hard to deny you such a joy and opportunity. But you see, dear, I can’t control my health, and I get easily upset and sick from worry. I’m actually sad to realize you understand this fully, since you say your head hurts when you get excited. But, darling, please keep going with your various responsibilities and try not to get too worked up.... Now, sweetest, promise me that you’ll do your best to listen to me and try to adopt our routines, rather than always being restless and chasing some grand plan of your own that has to happen.... I’m not asking you to make a promise, but if next week you feel you can, trusting in God, promise me you’ll really try to be a comfort and avoid those intense excitements that not only upset me in the moment but also haunt and distress me at night.... We’re very eager to give you this pleasure, but in the meantime, don’t get overly excited at school about it.

Shall we not be happy at Bettws-y-Coed if darling So is with us and we all consider each other’s comfort?”

"Won't we be happy at Bettws-y-Coed if dear So is with us and we all think about each other’s comfort?"

The microscopic school diary had for five months been non-existent; the imperious demand of this glorious anticipation called a fresh volume into being.

The tiny school diary hadn’t been around for five months; the overwhelming excitement of this exciting anticipation brought a new volume to life.

“Thursday, May 24th [1855.] My answer was to come about Wales. When I got my letter I prayed God to help me to bear it, for I was nearly sure it would be a refusal, and I was quite prepared for it and determined to keep my promise not to worry about it. I put my letter in my pocket and ran away from them all. Then I burst it open and read, ‘Daddy and I have such a strong wish you should see Wales, and it is truly painful to deny you such a pleasure.’ There, thought I, but I had expected it and didn’t feel so dreadfully disappointed. Then I read on and oh, I found it was not so, that I should go. Oh, I got so excited and half began to cry. Then came Mummy’s caution not to be excited, but it was impossible. Dropped down there and thanked God. Oh, then I trust He has granted my prayer. Glory to God in the highest. Oh, I was so thankful.

“Thursday, May 24th [1855.] My answer was about Wales. When I got my letter, I prayed to God to help me handle it, because I was almost sure it would be a no, and I was fully prepared for it and determined to keep my promise not to worry about it. I put my letter in my pocket and ran away from everyone. Then I opened it and read, ‘Daddy and I really wish you could see Wales, and it’s truly painful to deny you such a pleasure.’ There, I thought, but I expected that and didn’t feel so incredibly disappointed. Then I read on, and oh, I found out it was not so, that I would go. Oh, I got so excited I almost started to cry. Then came Mummy’s warning not to get too excited, but it was impossible. I dropped down there and thanked God. Oh, then I trust He has answered my prayer. Glory to God in the highest. Oh, I was so grateful.

25th.... Got a letter from Tom. How kind of him to write, it really was, and he has got a first bachelor’s degree. G. told me he saw his name in the paper.

25th.... I received a letter from Tom. It was really nice of him to write, and he has earned his first bachelor’s degree. G. told me he saw his name in the newspaper.

Had a great shortness and pain in taking long breaths. G. said 46there was some irregularity in the heart, I believe. Laurie came in afternoon and said my heart was wrong again. Left me some medicine.

Had a lot of trouble breathing and felt pain when I took deep breaths. G. mentioned there was some irregularity with my heart, I think. Laurie stopped by in the afternoon and said my heart was acting up again. He left me some medicine.

28th. Mrs. H. told me to lie down and sleep if I felt tired, but I am much better.... K. seized on ‘Prince and Peasant’ and M. on ‘Anecdotes of Animals’ the 2 books Miss Smith had left me. I was very cross, I had nothing to do. I seized on Anecdotes after Prayers to take up. M. was in high dudgeon, as if it was her right. But I carried it off. But upstairs I thought it was not right. ‘In honour preferring one another.’ So I took it her. But it was a hard struggle.... I am glad I got that little victory.

28th. Mrs. H. told me to lie down and sleep if I felt tired, but I'm feeling much better... K. grabbed 'Prince and Peasant' and M. took 'Anecdotes of Animals,' the two books Miss Smith had left me. I was really annoyed; I had nothing to do. After prayers, I picked up Anecdotes to read. M. was really upset, acting like it was her right to have it. But I managed to take it. However, upstairs, I felt it wasn't fair. 'In honor preferring one another.' So I brought it to her. But it was a tough struggle... I'm glad I got that little victory.

Miss C. came to G.‘s for the last time. I was so sorry and so were most folks. She gave me a little parcel, or at least put it in my pocket on condition I should not open it till I got home. I thought it was some mischief but took it. It was such a lovely gold pencil case, ‘from a schoolgirl.’ Dear girl, it was very kind of her.

Miss C. came to G.'s for the last time. I was really sad, and so were most people. She gave me a small package, or at least slipped it into my pocket on the condition that I wouldn't open it until I got home. I thought it might be some kind of prank but decided to keep it. It turned out to be a beautiful gold pencil case, ‘from a schoolgirl.’ Sweet girl, it was so thoughtful of her.

30th. Very difficult geometry problem. I doubt if I can do it. Mortimer was home, and told us some very good stories of —— the nurse of his ward. Mrs. H. said in the evening she would like to be nurse there (!) She said how should I get on who so hate injustice, and I said I thought such open acknowledged injustice was not the hardest to bear. This brought down an awful storm of wonder, reasoning, etc., till at length I got off to bed so tired.

30th. Very tricky geometry problem. I'm not sure I can solve it. Mortimer was home and shared some great stories about the nurse from his ward. Mrs. H. mentioned in the evening that she’d like to be the nurse there (!) She asked how I could manage since I dislike injustice so much, and I replied that I believed such blatant and acknowledged injustice was not the hardest to tolerate. This sparked a huge storm of curiosity, reasoning, etc., until finally, I went to bed so tired.

June 1st. A little fracas with Mlle at G.’s. Little Henriquez is here. It is strange to be with a Jew and a R. Catholic so closely. Con rather worrying, and I not rather cross. Oh, dear, ‘Charity never faileth.’ ‘The ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.’

June 1st. A small argument with Mlle at G.’s. Little Henriquez is here. It feels odd to be so close to a Jew and a Roman Catholic. I'm kind of worried, and I'm not really upset. Oh, dear, ‘Charity never fails.’ ‘The beauty of a gentle and calm spirit, which is of great value in God’s eyes.’

Laurie came and left me some more medicine.

Laurie came by and left me some more medicine.

4th. Miss Teed’s birthday. Many happy returns to her. Wonder if Carry remembers.... I want so to know Minnie’s exact birthday.

4th. Miss Teed’s birthday. Wishing her many happy returns. I wonder if Carry remembers.... I really want to know Minnie’s exact birthday.

know it is near....

know it's almost here....

Went in the gardens. K. and S. persecuted me with grass and I can’t run after them. When I caught S. and when we were indoors I gave it her rather roughly. She was very cross and would not have any of [my] jam at tea, she never will when she is cross with me. Got a sore throat.

Went into the gardens. K. and S. kept bothering me with grass, and I can't chase after them. When I caught S. and we were inside, I treated her a bit roughly. She was really angry and wouldn't have any of my jam at tea; she never does when she's mad at me. My throat is sore.

5th. Throat very fairly bad, and very ‘cheval’ as M. would say. Apropos it’s her birthday....

5th. My throat is pretty bad, and very 'horse-like,' as M. would put it. By the way, it’s her birthday....

Just before prayers I was in the cupboard and someone shut the door nearly on me. I threw it open again and half upset the great slate. We had been rather uproarious all afternoon as M’s sisters had been here and said holidays did begin on 18th. When I came out of the cupboard I managed to tread on M’s toes, and Mlle packed me off to bed. I said ‘All right,’ shook hands with her, 47kissed S. and went off. Mlle wasn’t very angry nor I very sorry and so we were all very comfable. Seized on K. for a kiss as she came up and she seemed forbidden to speak to me. However we had a nice hug and she wasn’t very horrified.

Just before prayer, I was in the cupboard when someone closed the door almost on me. I pushed it open again and nearly knocked over the big slate. We had been pretty noisy all afternoon since M's sisters were here and said that the holidays started on the 18th. When I came out of the cupboard, I stepped on M’s toes, and Mlle sent me off to bed. I said “All right,” shook her hand, kissed S., and went on my way. Mlle wasn’t too angry, and I wasn’t that sorry, so we were all feeling pretty comfortable. I grabbed K. for a kiss as she walked by, and she seemed like she wasn’t allowed to talk to me. Still, we had a nice hug, and she didn’t seem too shocked.

6th. Found a handbill on my dressing-table from Mrs. H. ‘for Sophy’ called Telling Jesus.”

6th. I found a flyer on my dressing table from Mrs. H. "for Sophy" called "Telling Jesus."

This entry closes the school diary.

This entry wraps up the school diary.

She seems to have remained at the Notting Hill school till Easter, 1856, and to have carried away with her the warm good will and genuine—if sorely tried—respect of her headmistress, Mrs. H., with whom she kept up a correspondence for some time. For another year and a half she seems to have attended some school at Brighton within reach of her home, but study here was discouraged, and she became the patient of another doctor—or quack?—who prescribed a course of rubbing.

She appears to have stayed at the Notting Hill school until Easter 1856 and left with the warm goodwill and genuine—though strained—respect of her headmistress, Mrs. H., with whom she maintained correspondence for some time. For another year and a half, she seems to have attended a school in Brighton that was close to her home, but studying there was discouraged, and she became a patient of another doctor—or quack?—who recommended a regimen of rubbing.

“Under the new regulation of no study,” writes Mrs. H., “I suppose you have plenty and to spare of the dolce far niente. I smiled at the ‘few lessons,’ and wondered in what occupation you might possibly spend your 24 hours.... Be assured, dear Sophy, that so much trifling and frivolity is culpable in the sight of Heaven. It is an unworthy waste of God’s gifts, and you are capable of something so much better!”

“Under the new rule of no studying,” writes Mrs. H., “I guess you have more than enough time for doing nothing. I chuckled at the ‘few lessons’ and wondered what you could possibly do with your 24 hours.... Rest assured, dear Sophy, that so much idleness and silliness is frowned upon by Heaven. It’s an undeserved waste of God’s gifts, and you can do so much better!”

That life, even now, was not all “trifling and frivolity” is obvious from the following letter, which was written a few weeks later:

That life, even now, wasn't just "trivial and silly" is clear from the following letter, which was written a few weeks later:

“Monday, Sept. 8th. 1856.

My own darling Mother,

My lovely Mom,

This subject of confirmation has come up again, and I really must say I am positively shocked at the way it is settled and talked about. It is ‘How old are you?’ ‘Does your Papa wish you to be confirmed?’ and never, ‘Are you fit to be?’ or ‘Do you really wish it?’ It is just as if it were a history lecture to be attended. I really think it is wicked. Miss H. took it for granted that I should be and stuck down my name. I said, ‘No thank you, Miss H.,’ to her great indignation. I assured her you wished me to do exactly as I liked on such a subject, which she did not choose to believe at all.

This topic of confirmation has come up again, and I must say I’m genuinely shocked at how it's discussed and decided. It's always questions like, 'How old are you?' and 'Does your dad want you to be confirmed?' but never, 'Are you ready for it?' or 'Do you really want it?' It's as if it's just some history class to sit in. I honestly think it's wrong. Miss H. assumed I would go through with it and just put my name down. I told her, 'No thanks, Miss H.,' which really upset her. I made it clear that you wanted me to do whatever I felt was right regarding this matter, but she refused to believe that at all.

But I really do wish it, Mother. I think it would help me, and I long to take the Lord’s Supper with you. Will you let me be confirmed from home?—that is, spend the actual day of confirmation at home, so that I may think of something besides how I 48am dressed and how good or bad an examination I passed, on the day I take those solemn promises on myself. Mother, dear, I seem less able to speak to you than anyone, but I do feel very much about it. It is just,—‘I have gone astray like a lost sheep, seek Thy servant, for I do not forget Thy commandments,’ I do hope. No, I can’t write what I mean or anything else. Just write me one line by return of post. Mr. E. is certainly not the minister I should have chosen, nor Miss H.’s the place I should have preferred, but I don’t think that ought to stand in the way, for it is not in respect to them I stand.

But I really do wish it, Mom. I think it would help me, and I really want to take the Lord’s Supper with you. Will you let me be confirmed from home?—meaning, can I spend the actual day of confirmation at home, so that I can think about something other than what I’m wearing and how well or poorly I did on the exam when I make those serious promises. Mom, I feel less able to talk to you than to anyone else, but I really care about this. It’s just,—‘I have gone astray like a lost sheep, seek Your servant, for I do not forget Your commandments,’ I do hope. No, I can’t write what I mean or anything else. Just send me one line back in the mail. Mr. E. is definitely not the minister I would have chosen, nor is Miss H.’s place the one I would have preferred, but I don’t think that should be a problem, because it’s not about them for me.

I think I should have preferred waiting another year, but I don’t think I can quite expect God’s blessing on His child while I defer owning myself such.

I think I should have preferred waiting another year, but I don’t feel like I can truly expect God's blessing on His child while I put off claiming that for myself.

Oh, Mother, Mother, how I wish you were here, but it seems as if He had expressly left me to myself each time confirmation has been spoken of. I do not think you will refuse either the permission I ask, or your blessing on the step I take,—unless it would be too great an excitement for you,—though it need not be, for you need not go with me....

Oh, Mom, Mom, I really wish you were here, but it feels like He has made sure I'm on my own every time we've talked about confirmation. I don’t think you’ll deny the permission I’m asking for or your blessing on this decision I’m making—unless it would be too much for you to handle—but it doesn’t have to be, since you don't need to come with me....

Well, darling, just tell me what you mean and think. But pray, pray, don’t show any of this to anyone....

Well, darling, just tell me what you mean and think. But please, please don’t show any of this to anyone....

God bless and keep my darling Mother.

God bless and take care of my dear Mom.

Farewell, precious.

Goodbye, dear.

Your own child,

Sophie.”

“I like the idea of your being confirmed very much,” her Father had written some months before. “God’s blessing be with you. Look to Him and be happy.”

“I really like the idea of you getting confirmed,” her father had written a few months ago. “May God’s blessing be with you. Look to Him and be happy.”

Sophy’s first schoolmistress, Mrs. Teed, took a different view of the matter:

Sophy’s first teacher, Mrs. Teed, had a different perspective on the situation:

“10th Oct. 1856.

Dearest Sophy,

Dear Sophy,

Your dear Mother tells me you are soon to be confirmed. When I read her letter I thought to myself,—Confirmed!—in what?—in following your own foolish ways? There needs no confirmation in that....

Your dear mom tells me you’re about to be confirmed. When I read her letter, I thought to myself—Confirmed!—in what?—in sticking to your own foolish ways? You don’t need confirmation for that....

You told me in a letter written to me on my last birthday that you hoped you were one of Christ’s little ones. O dear Sophy, you know better.... I do not say do not deceive yourself, but I say never seek to deceive others,” and so on.

You wrote to me in a letter on my last birthday that you hoped you were one of Christ's little ones. Oh dear Sophy, you know better... I’m not saying don’t deceive yourself, but I’m saying never try to deceive others,” and so on.

Those who have read with some sympathy the preceding pages may well be inclined to doubt whether Sophy was “seeking to deceive others,” or rather, perhaps, whether 49deception with her did not more readily take the form of concealing the depth and reality of her religious life. Christ’s lambs have not all been precisely of the type good Mrs. Teed had in mind. The real difficulty, however, is to fit the child into the categories of the pious people among whom she lived, or indeed, into any category at all. For better or for worse, she belonged to another plane of being.

Those who have read the previous pages with some understanding might doubt whether Sophy was really “trying to deceive others,” or if, rather, her deception was more about hiding the depth and reality of her religious life. Christ’s followers haven’t all been exactly the type that good Mrs. Teed envisioned. The real challenge, however, is fitting the child into the categories of the religious community she lived in, or into any category at all. For better or worse, she existed on a different level of being.

If one were compelled to adopt the system of classification current in those days, one could but fall back with thankfulness on the remembrance of that “hasty image” of the Good Shepherd in the Catacombs,

If someone had to accept the classification system common back then, they could only be grateful for the memory of that “hasty image” of the Good Shepherd in the Catacombs,

“And, on his shoulders, not a lamb, a kid.”

In any case the stormy chequered school career had now come to a close. “I can’t fancy you, Sophy, with long frocks,” an old school-friend writes, “taller than Hetty, a regular grown-up young lady. Are you transformed yet? Do let me see you first like your own old dear self!”

In any case, the turbulent and mixed school years have now come to an end. “I can’t imagine you, Sophy, in long dresses,” an old school friend writes, “taller than Hetty, like a proper grown-up young lady. Have you changed yet? Please let me see you first as your old, dear self!”

“Your own old dear self!” One almost weeps to think of all the unnecessary friction and waste of energy in those school days. Those of us who have been teachers know how often the troublesome pupil proves to be the pick of the basket,—the keen student and the loyal co-worker: and perhaps more than one headmistress who reads these pages will wish that she had been privileged to have the training of Sophia Jex-Blake. Many admirable women prayed and wept over her in those days, struggled to make her all they thought she ought to be; and, if their perseverance and devotion seemed to be inadequately rewarded, this was due to no fault of theirs. They were what the Society of that day demanded, what Society made them. They were wanting only in what just chanced to be almost the one thing needful,—the modern spirit. Rather behind their own day, their lot was to be the trainers of a girl, who—unconsciously to herself—was far in advance of her own day,—a girl who would have appreciated to the utmost the free boyish education of our High Schools for girls, and who—had it been her good fortune to have lived under such auspices—might have written a somewhat different page in the book of life.

“Your own dear self!” It’s almost sad to think about all the unnecessary friction and wasted energy from those school days. Those of us who have been teachers know how often the challenging student turns out to be the best of the bunch—the eager learner and the dedicated collaborator. And perhaps more than one headmistress reading this will wish that she had the opportunity to train Sophia Jex-Blake. Many remarkable women prayed and shed tears over her back then, trying to shape her into everything they believed she should be; and if their persistence and dedication seemed to go unappreciated, it wasn’t because of any fault of theirs. They were exactly what Society of that time expected them to be; they were shaped by Society itself. They were just lacking in what happened to be the one essential thing—the modern spirit. A bit behind their own era, they were responsible for guiding a girl who, without realizing it, was far ahead of her time—a girl who would have fully embraced the liberating, boy-like education offered in today's High Schools for girls, and who—if she had been fortunate enough to live in such circumstances—might have written a different chapter in the story of life.

CHAPTER V
LIFE AT HOME

It is with a definite sense of relief that one takes up the thread of S. J.-B.’s life after she leaves school. She is still, it is true, a problem and a perplexity to many, and sometimes to those who loved her best: but at least she appeals now to a wider tribunal: her qualities get a chance to tell, even if they do not precisely conform to the pattern laboriously cut out by an early Victorian schoolmistress.

It’s a relief to continue exploring S. J.-B.’s life after she finishes school. It’s true that she still presents challenges and confusion to many, including those who cared for her the most. However, she now appeals to a broader audience; her qualities have the opportunity to shine, even if they don’t exactly fit the mold created by a strict Victorian schoolteacher.

Her health, unhappily, still left a good deal to be desired. The doctors had much to say of the irritability of her brain. The stethoscope was supposed, too, to reveal something wrong with her heart, but this must have been functional, as no trace of it was discoverable in after life. Riding, fortunately was now allowed, and she entered into the enjoyment of it with characteristic intensity; but beyond this, in the early days of her—comparative—freedom, she certainly took no pains to improve her physique. The enterprising young women of those days had still so much to learn! It seldom occurred to them to balance their physical expenditure with their receipts.

Her health, unfortunately, still had a lot to be desired. The doctors had plenty to say about the irritability of her brain. The stethoscope was also thought to indicate something wrong with her heart, but this must have been functional, as there was no evidence of it later on. Fortunately, she was now allowed to ride, and she enjoyed it with her usual intensity; however, beyond that, during the early days of her—relative—freedom, she certainly didn’t make any effort to improve her physique. The ambitious young women of that time still had a lot to learn! They rarely considered how to balance their physical effort with their results.

Meanwhile it is not to be supposed that her parents had gained greater control over her than when she was a child: they remained quite uncompromising in the matter of dancing, theatre-going, and other “worldly” amusements, but they were unsuccessful in making her conform to the ordinary, wholesome, old-fashioned routine of English family life. Naturally her self-will in this respect annoyed both parents very much, and Mrs. Jex-Blake must often have been sorely 51put to it to restrain her own impatience and to preserve any semblance of peace.

Meanwhile, it shouldn't be assumed that her parents had gained any more control over her than when she was a child: they remained completely strict about dancing, going to the theater, and other "worldly" activities, but they were unsuccessful in getting her to stick to the typical, healthy, old-fashioned routine of English family life. Naturally, her stubbornness in this regard frustrated both parents a great deal, and Mrs. Jex-Blake must have frequently struggled to manage her own impatience and to keep any sense of peace.

To her credit be it said that she rose to a difficult situation in a manner that makes praise an impertinence. One is glad to gather from the records that her physical health was now on a firmer basis than formerly, but that was only one element in the case. Always a deeply religious woman, she seems to have stepped now into the full freedom of her faith,—faith, not only in God, but in the essential goodness and uprightness of her wayward child. She seems to have realized fully for the first time that the stormy ways which tried her so sorely were not a mere matter of whim and wilfulness, but that they arose from a definite strain in her daughter,—a strain that caused no small suffering to the owner of that nature,—a strain possibly fundamental in character, certainly far too deeply imbedded to be easily eradicated. And, having realized this, the Mother set herself, not as before to criticise the evil, but to foster and rejoice in the good, to make life as easy as might be, to reduce friction to a minimum, and, above all, to surround her daughter with a real glow and radiance of sympathy.

To her credit, she handled a tough situation in a way that makes praise seem unnecessary. It’s encouraging to see from the records that her physical health was now stronger than before, but that was just one part of the story. Always a deeply religious woman, she seems to have fully embraced her faith—faith not only in God but also in the fundamental goodness and integrity of her troubled child. For the first time, she seems to have fully understood that the challenging behaviors that tested her were not simply due to stubbornness but stemmed from a significant strain in her daughter—a strain that caused considerable pain for her daughter—a strain that was likely essential in nature and certainly too deep-seated to be easily removed. Having come to this realization, the Mother resolved, not to criticize the negative, but to nurture and celebrate the positive, to make life as easy as possible, to minimize conflict, and, above all, to surround her daughter with genuine warmth and support.

How sorely tried that sympathy must often have been, we can partly understand when we compare the old-world fragrance of the Mother’s personality with all that is suggested to us now by the name of Sophia Jex-Blake. “When I was young,” the Mother used to say, “it was not a question of whether we should marry, but simply of whom we should marry.” And to her lot fell a daughter who rarely thought of marriage at all, whose brain was teeming with all sorts of unfettered boyish ambitions, who made it clear to everyone whom it might concern that she meant to live her own life,—to “make good the faculties of herself” in the way that pleased her best.

How much that sympathy must have been tested, we can partly understand when we compare the old-world charm of the Mother’s personality with everything the name Sophia Jex-Blake suggests to us today. “When I was young,” the Mother used to say, “it wasn’t about whether we would marry, but simply whom we would marry.” And she had a daughter who rarely thought about marriage at all, whose mind was overflowing with all kinds of unrestrained, boyish ambitions, who made it clear to everyone concerned that she intended to live her own life—to “develop her own abilities” in the way that suited her best.

And yet there was something in all this audacious, spontaneous life that found an answering chord in the Mother’s heart. She was not a phlegmatic conventional person by nature herself. She too, perhaps, long before, had beaten eager wings against the bars. In any case from this time on the friendship between the two was a sacred thing, never 52flagging, comparable with the most beautiful friendships in history.

And yet there was something about all this bold, spontaneous life that struck a chord in the Mother’s heart. She wasn’t a calm, conventional person by nature. Maybe she too had, long ago, tried desperately to break free. From this moment on, the friendship between the two became a sacred bond, unwavering and comparable to the most beautiful friendships in history. 52

Fortunately we have S. J.-B.’s own account of those first days at home:

Fortunately, we have S. J.-B.’s own account of those first days at home:

“1857. Dec. 17th. Thursday. Came home for good. For good? Who can tell? Oh, what would I give to look forward ten, aye five, short years, and see what I shall be. Just 18; half my life at school. Then 28. Dr. Moore says,—and there seems a strange prophecy in his words,—that I shall be something, something good if not great, but not in the way I hope;^[11] that ‘on a ruin of broken columns and shattered Grecian capitols, shall be laid the foundation of a temple of God.’ There’s something comes home to my heart in those shattered columns,—

“1857. Dec. 17th. Thursday. Came home for good. For good? Who can say? Oh, what would I give to look ahead ten, or even just five, short years, and see what I will become. Just 18; half my life spent in school. Then 28. Dr. Moore says—and there seems to be a strange prophecy in his words—that I will be something, something good if not great, but not in the way I hope; ^[11] that 'on a ruin of broken columns and shattered Grecian capitals, shall be laid the foundation of a temple of God.' There’s something that resonates with me in those shattered columns,—

‘The dearest idol I have known,
Whate’er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from Thy throne,
And worship only Thee.’

Oh, that I had the strength, the faith, to pray so honestly,—but God help me! I have prayed little enough lately. I seem in such a torpor, such a prostration of mind, body, and, I fear, soul. I hope there is much physical in this.

Oh, if only I had the strength and faith to pray so genuinely—but God help me! I haven't prayed much lately. I feel stuck in such a fog, such a complete exhaustion of mind, body, and, I worry, soul. I hope a lot of this is physical.

That beautiful hymn,—‘What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!’ Once. So it is, and now. Never mind; I think God must have some mercy, some hope, to me when He has given and preserved to me my darling, my angel Mother. She seems a pledge of hope.

That beautiful hymn—‘What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!’ Once. That's how it is, and now. It doesn't matter; I believe God must have some mercy, some hope, for me since He has given me and kept my darling, my angel Mother. She feels like a promise of hope.

Well, shall I be a great authoress as my day and night dreams prompt me to hope?... Shall I ever be a happy wife and mother? Shall I ere ten years, or half ten years have passed, be dust?... I sometimes think so. (June 1st. 1869. At any rate never thought of being a sawbones.)

Well, will I become a great author like my dreams make me hope?… Will I ever be a happy wife and mother? Will I be dust in ten years, or even five?… Sometimes I think so. (June 1st, 1869. Anyway, I never thought about being a doctor.)

Dec. 25th. How awfully sentimental my first entries do look!... Daddy says he is sorry I have anything that ‘wants a lock.’ Hm, how very well he understands me and my wants! Never mind; dear old man, he is very loving and kind if not brilliant. Oh, Mother, Mother, what should I do without you?... Just said how earnestly I hoped never to see one dear to me die, that I may die first. ‘Oh, don’t think of self at all, Sophy,’ she said, ‘Just see what good you can do.’ Right.

Dec. 25th. Wow, my first entries seem so overly sentimental!... Dad says he’s sorry I have something that ‘needs a lock.’ Hmm, he really understands me and what I want! Never mind; dear old man, he’s very loving and kind, even if he’s not brilliant. Oh, Mom, Mom, what would I do without you?... I just said how sincerely I hoped I would never have to watch someone I love die, and that I’d rather die first. ‘Oh, don’t think about yourself at all, Sophy,’ she said, ‘Just focus on what good you can do.’ Right.

31st. Writing now in my own dear room, darling Mother, how every article in it speaks of her love! They have gone to a New 53Year’s Eve prayer meeting at St. Mark’s School,—uncommonly slow, I should think. I do think however ‘good’ I became,—or rather I wonder whether I ever could like such very slow spiritualities. Still there’s Bishop Wilberforce and his ‘scaffolding.’ Don’t cry ‘spirit’ and take away ‘means,’—remove the scaffolding because its work is not accomplished.”

31st. Writing now in my own beloved room, dear Mom, every item in it reminds me of your love! They’ve gone to a New Year’s Eve prayer meeting at St. Mark’s School—sounds unusually slow, I must say. I do wonder if I could ever truly enjoy such very slow spiritual experiences. Yet, there’s Bishop Wilberforce and his “scaffolding.” Don’t shout “spirit” and get rid of “means”—take away the scaffolding only when its job is done.

For some time she had been writing a story based on her own school life at Mrs. Teed’s,—a story that was never finished. It is very well written of course, but diffuse, and interesting chiefly for its autobiographical touches. She is intensely loyal to both school and schoolmistress, and one feels on reading her descriptions a fresh sense of regret that it should have been necessary to take her away from an atmosphere that seems in many ways to have suited her so well.

For a while, she had been writing a story inspired by her time at Mrs. Teed’s school—a story that never got finished. It’s well-written, of course, but a bit long-winded, and primarily interesting for its autobiographical elements. She is fiercely loyal to both the school and the headmistress, and reading her descriptions evokes a renewed sense of regret that she had to leave an environment that seemed to fit her so well.

One episode is definitely autobiographical, and it is of more than passing interest. The small schoolchildren in the story, playing at “shop,” have helped themselves to a quantity of “jewels” in the shape of scraps of coloured quartz, etc., from a grotto in the garden. The theft being discovered, the heroine is called up first, and, in great fear and trembling, owns to having taken one of the fragments. Questioned as to a second, and fearing to add to her condemnation, she falters, “I don’t know.” Due punishment follows (banishment to bed and enforced reading of the chapter about Eli’s sons), then a public scene in hall and forgiveness. Now comes the point of the episode:

One episode is definitely autobiographical, and it's definitely interesting. The young schoolchildren in the story, playing “shop,” have taken some “jewels” that look like bits of colored quartz and other scraps from a grotto in the garden. When the theft is discovered, the heroine is called up first and, filled with fear and anxiety, admits to taking one of the pieces. When asked about a second piece, afraid of adding to her guilt, she hesitates and says, “I don’t know.” She faces her punishment (sent to bed and made to read the chapter about Eli’s sons), followed by a public scene in the hall and eventual forgiveness. Now comes the crux of the episode:

“But still there was one leaden weight on me,—the story I had told [Mrs. Teed] the day before. It seemed as though the forgiveness was not thorough, nor of full value while part of the offence was concealed. How easy it would have been I now saw to confess the whole offence at once, how difficult now! Remembrance, however, of the sorrow of the day before, and some innate love of truth, as I hope, urged me on, and when, after prayers [Mrs. Teed] passed away through the door at the extreme end of the schoolroom, I ran to meet her at the foot of the great staircase which she must ascend to her private rooms, and said hurriedly, ‘Mothy, I think I did not tell you quite the truth yesterday. I said I did not know who picked out the bit of yellow quartz. I think I did know I did.’

“But still there was one heavy burden on me—the story I had told [Mrs. Teed] the day before. It felt like the forgiveness wasn’t complete or fully genuine while part of the offense was hidden. I realized how easy it would have been to confess everything right away, and how difficult it was now! Yet, the memory of the sorrow from yesterday, along with some innate love for the truth, pushed me forward. When [Mrs. Teed] finished her prayers and left through the door at the far end of the classroom, I ran to meet her at the bottom of the grand staircase she had to climb to get to her private rooms, and said quickly, ‘Mothy, I think I didn’t tell you the whole truth yesterday. I said I didn’t know who took the piece of yellow quartz. I think I did know—I did.’”

‘Thank God, my child,’ she said gently but solemnly, ‘that you 54have told me the truth now. It is better than a thousand pieces of quartz.’...

‘Thank God, my child,’ she said gently but seriously, ‘that you’ve told me the truth now. It’s better than a thousand pieces of quartz.’...

Reward enough I certainly had at the time in my lightened heart from that moment, but the effort I had made seemed hardly to merit such rich recompense as it received some time after when I heard that Mothy had said that she would believe everything told her by [S. J.-B.] as if she had seen it herself.

Reward enough I definitely had at that moment with my lighter heart, but the effort I had put in didn’t seem to deserve such a great reward as what I received later when I heard that Mothy had said she would believe everything told to her by [S. J.-B.] as if she had witnessed it herself.

Oh, how proud and happy was I at that moment, and the desire fully to merit testimony so inexpressibly sweet to me had, I verily believe, far more effect on the truthfulness of all my after life than any suffering or punishment could have had; and it in great measure saved me from sinking utterly in after time into that slough of deceit into which almost all schoolgirls do fall at one time or another in more difficult circumstances and in the midst of a lower tone than that of Hertford House. And,—though many will deem, and perhaps rightly, the distinction of little worth,—though often in those after days, under less noble rule, guilty of equivocation, I do not think I ever from that day told a lie.”

Oh, how proud and happy I was in that moment, and the desire to truly deserve such unbelievably sweet praise had, I genuinely believe, a much greater impact on the honesty of my life afterward than any suffering or punishment could ever have had; it largely kept me from completely sinking into that pit of deceit that almost all schoolgirls experience at some point, especially in tougher situations and in a lower environment than that of Hertford House. And—even though many might think, and perhaps rightly so, that the distinction is of little worth—though I was often guilty of dodging the truth during those later days under less noble circumstances, I don't think I ever told a lie from that day forward.

We return to the diary:

We go back to the diary:

“1858. Jan. 7th.... I must begin to write again if I don’t mean to lose the knack ... and so ought to go on with Hertford House or write something.... I want partly to write for the money,—now why, I wonder? Honestly, why? I have plenty of everything. In a handsome if not luxurious home, 6 servants all much at my orders, lots of rides, a most loving Mother, tender father, almost every wish gratified, £30 a year clear, and lots of presents, almost at will,—why I should write for money unless I am avaricious or spendthrift I don’t exactly know. Partly for the pride of earning it,—of knowing myself as well able to earn my bread as my inferiors. Surely, though, I ought least of all in my list of comforts—blessing, should I say?—to omit my most happy, most snug nutshell of a room, with its handsome furniture, cosy fire, and thoroughly comfortable arrangements. How truly loving my most precious pearl of a Mother has been to me in this especially....

“1858. Jan. 7th.... I need to start writing again if I don’t want to lose my touch ... and I should probably continue with Hertford House or write something.... I partially want to write for the money—now why is that, I wonder? Honestly, why? I have more than enough of everything. In a nice, if not luxurious, home, 6 servants ready to assist me, plenty of rides, a very loving mom, a caring dad, almost every wish fulfilled, £30 a year clear, and lots of gifts, almost whenever I want—why should I write for money unless I'm greedy or wasteful? I think it’s partly for the pride of earning it—for knowing that I can earn my living just as well as those below me. Still, I should definitely not leave out of my list of comforts—blessings, I should say?—my cozy little room, with its beautiful furniture, warm fire, and fully comfortable setup. How truly loving my most precious gem of a mother has been to me in this especially....”

I have conceived a rather wild idea of writing to Miss M. for counsel and sympathy.... But how get a letter to her? And, if I did, would she think it a bore? I think not. Send the letter to her publishers? Sure not to be opened? Then what to say if I do write? What do I want? Don’t exactly know.

I have come up with a pretty crazy idea of writing to Miss M. for advice and support... But how do I get a letter to her? And, if I do, would she find it tiresome? I don’t think so. Should I send the letter to her publishers? Definitely not for them to open it? Then what should I say if I actually write? What do I want? I’m not really sure.

Well, leave it.

Just leave it.

Now for the more important at least more solemn part of todays journal. And I must make this some use. Just heard a sermon from Mr. Vaughan on ‘Truth,’—Gehazi being the scape-goat of warning. He spoke strongly of allowing ourselves to say more on 55religious subjects than we feel, calling it a dangerous deception and leading to worse. But does that include speaking a word—earnest and sincere at least—about the souls of others, tho’ our own may not be safe? Often at school I have felt driven to speak very solemnly to girls about their souls when I feel I am not worthy to say a word, for mine is perhaps as lost as theirs,—and often and often have risen in my throat,—‘Lest when I have preached to others I myself become a castaway.’ Yet if I am,—oh, fearful word, I can hardly write it,—if lost (oh, God, save me!) can it, would it not console, if consolation were possible,—to know I had warned others from the pit into which I fell. And I hope I may have done some little good.... And how happy I have felt—and better in myself too,—if I have even for a moment led some to think of Jesus else forgotten....

Now for the more important, or at least more serious part of today's journal. And I need to make this some use of it. I just heard a sermon from Mr. Vaughan on ‘Truth,’ using Gehazi as a warning example. He emphasized the danger of saying more about religious topics than we truly feel, describing it as a dangerous deception that can lead to worse outcomes. But does that also apply to speaking even a word—at least earnestly and sincerely—about the souls of others, even if our own may not be secure? Often at school, I’ve felt compelled to speak very seriously to girls about their souls when I feel unworthy to say anything since mine might be just as lost as theirs. And many times I’ve thought, ‘Lest when I have preached to others I myself become a castaway.’ Yet, if I am—oh, that dreadful word, I can hardly write it—if lost (oh, God, save me!), wouldn’t it, could it, bring some comfort, if comfort were possible—to know that I had warned others away from the pit into which I fell? And I hope I might have done some small good.... And how happy I have felt—and better in myself too—if I have even for a moment led some to think of Jesus, otherwise forgotten....

Dearest Mrs. Teed is dead. ‘Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.’ ‘Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!’...

Dearest Mrs. Teed has passed away. ‘Blessed are those who die in the Lord.’ ‘Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last moments be like his!’...

Dear Carry! At a moment like this I can’t help thinking ‘The righteous is more excellent than his neighbour.’ Oh, how far, far more excellent than I am and yet I have sometimes almost despised her because perhaps she has less intellectual power, for I do believe God has given me some genius,—surely there is no pride in saying so, remembering His grace, who gave thee all.

Dear Carry! In a moment like this, I can’t help but think, ‘The righteous person is better than their neighbor.’ Oh, how much better she is than I am, and yet I have sometimes nearly looked down on her because she might not be as intellectually gifted. I truly believe God has given me some talent—there’s no pride in acknowledging that, especially considering His grace, who gave you everything.

Jan. 8th. Feel very much as if I had been sentimentalizing last night. I wish I could keep in one frame of mind.

Jan. 8th. I really feel like I was being overly sentimental last night. I wish I could stay in one mindset.

Jan. 10th. Sunday. Just been reading the ch. on ‘Happy and Unhappy Women’ in ‘Woman’s Thoughts.’ The Authoress speaks strongly about a sort of repining and melancholy, and about neglected health and almost voluntary sickness,—i.e. voluntary in not taking proper remedies and safe-guards,—and I cannot but feel much she says is not more than truth.

Jan. 10th. Sunday. I just read the chapter on ‘Happy and Unhappy Women’ in ‘Woman’s Thoughts.’ The author talks a lot about a kind of dissatisfaction and sadness, as well as neglected health and almost self-inflicted illness—meaning self-inflicted by not taking the right remedies and precautions—and I can’t help but feel that much of what she says is nothing but the truth.

She urges action, usefulness.

She promotes action and usefulness.

Now I cannot but consider whether it does not become me to attend to her hints, or rather to her arguments. Well I am not. Over mental exertion may have had, and I believe has had, very bad effects, still whether by my own fault directly or indirectly I don’t make matters worse, is another question. And certainly my Father and Mother are getting wretchedly anxious about me ... perhaps, unless I make an effort, I may find life ebbing ere half its purposes are accomplished....

Now I can’t help but think about whether I should pay attention to her hints, or rather her arguments. Well, I’m not. Exhausting my mind might have had, and I believe still has, really negative effects, but whether it’s my own fault directly or indirectly that I don’t make things worse is another question. And certainly my mom and dad are becoming incredibly worried about me... maybe, unless I make an effort, I’ll find life slipping away before I achieve even half of my goals...

At all events efforts are mine, though results are God’s. Yet tho’ I try to draw brilliant pictures of the future, and to persuade myself life is sweet, I can’t but feel that, if I were once assured of peace with God, I could be well content, nay grateful, to escape the waves of this troublesome world, and flee away and be at rest. Rest! 56Surely it is hardly natural at my age to be longing for it so....^[12] But coward! take God’s benefits and flee His service, His battle? It should be our’s ‘to act and to suffer, to do and to pray.’ No, it cannot be right to flee rather than to overcome.

At the end of the day, my efforts are my own, but the outcomes are up to God. Even though I try to imagine a bright future and convince myself that life is wonderful, I can't help but feel that if I were truly assured of peace with God, I would gladly, even gratefully, want to escape the struggles of this challenging world and rest. Rest! 56 Surely, it's not really natural for someone my age to be longing for it so....^[12] But is it cowardly to take God's gifts and run from His service, His battle? It should be our duty ‘to act and to suffer, to do and to pray.’ No, it can't be right to run away instead of fighting through.

Well, to return. If I am, and ought, to preserve my health, how? Suppose I make some kind of plan for the day, not rigid but suggestive.

Well, to get back to it. If I am, and should be, taking care of my health, how do I do that? Let's assume I create some sort of plan for the day, not strict but more like a guideline.

Rise, breakfast with the rest of the world. 8½.

Rise, have breakfast with everyone else. 8½.

Have for walk till 11.

Walk until 11.

Then either some master or work for myself,—writing, painting, etc., till dinner. 1.

Then either work for some boss or do my own thing—writing, painting, etc.—until dinner. 1.

Afternoon will be sure to be taken up with driving. Come in about 4. Then read till tea. After tea write, or read out downstairs. And go to bed with the rest of the world.

Afternoon will definitely be spent driving. Come in around 4. Then read until tea time. After tea, write or read downstairs. And go to bed with everyone else.

That would be rather more rational than my present programme:

That would make a lot more sense than what I’m currently planning:

Rise and breakfast at 11 or later. Dawdle till dinner.

Rise and have breakfast at 11 or later. Take your time until dinner.

Drive. Read till tea. Read or write till 2 or 3 a.m. Well, that does sound bad....

Drive. Read until tea. Read or write until 2 or 3 a.m. Well, that does sound pretty bad...

Mother and I were talking about my marrying,—the chances pro and con. I said I did not fancy I should ever marry, for I thought I should require too many qualities to meet in the man I could think of as my husband, for it to be likely that I should ever meet such a paragon who could be willing to marry me.

Mother and I were discussing my prospects for getting married—the pros and cons. I mentioned that I didn't think I would ever marry because I believed I would need too many qualities in the man I envisioned as my husband, making it unlikely that I would ever find such a perfect match who would be willing to marry me.

Let me see; the indispensables are I think:—A perfect gentleman, a sincere Christian, a liberal-minded broad-churchman; a lofty intellect to which it would be a pride to bow, a firm will which it would be a pleasure to submit to and concur in; a nice-looking fellow,—for I could not be happy with one whose face I could not love and admire in beauty of expression if not of form, and one whose means combined with mine would lift us above genteel poverty at least....

Let me see; the essentials are, I think:—A true gentleman, a sincere Christian, a open-minded person; a high intellect that I would be proud to respect, a strong will that I would be happy to follow and agree with; a good-looking guy,—because I could not be happy with someone whose face I couldn’t love and admire for its beauty, whether in expression or looks, and someone whose resources combined with mine would elevate us above genteel poverty at least....

Had another squabble with Carry because she told me my own Hertford House, which I was looking over, was not fit for Sunday. She does meddle awfully. Still, she’s a precious sight better than I am.... Bother her slow blood! She’ll drive me mad, she and Daddy between them. Never mind, I have got my jewel of a Mother, bless her!

Had another argument with Carry because she told me my own Hertford House, which I was checking on, wasn’t suitable for Sunday. She really interferes a lot. Still, she’s way better than I am... Ugh, her slow pace drives me crazy! She and Dad together will drive me mad. Anyway, I have my amazing Mother, bless her!

24th. Sunday. Talking in the evening about an old woman in Carry’s district who came from the Barrack Ground, Hastings. And that put it strong into my head how I wanted to go there. I had on Saturday evening written a letter to Amelia about the 57treat, and then I thought how nice it would be to go and give the treat myself.

24th. Sunday. We were chatting in the evening about an old woman in Carry’s area who came from the Barrack Ground in Hastings. That really made me think about how much I wanted to go there. On Saturday evening, I had written a letter to Amelia about the treat, and then I thought how great it would be to go and give the treat myself.

30th. Saturday. Seven years today since I last saw old Hastings. Isn’t it strange to return that day seven years! Pouring wet day. Rather afraid of being disappointed in Hastings, I do love it so. But I seemed so to have gone over and over every part in my dreams that I could not be disappointed. I know it all so well.... After dinner went to call on the Andrews. I thought I would go incog. and see if they remembered me. Amelia opened the door. ‘I think the Miss Andrews live here?’ ‘Yes, ma’am.ma’am.’ ‘Are you not connected with the Infant School?’ ‘Yes, ma’am.’ I asked if I might come and see the children. She assented quite soberly. I couldn’t stand it, jumped at her, and pinned her to the wall for a kiss. She knew me in a moment, seized my hands and dragged me in in wild delight....

30th. Saturday. It's been seven years today since I last saw old Hastings. Isn’t it strange to return on this day after seven years! It's pouring rain. I'm a bit worried I might be disappointed in Hastings, which I love so much. But I feel like I've gone over every part in my dreams, so I can't really be disappointed. I know it all so well... After dinner, I went to visit the Andrews. I thought I'd go incognito and see if they remembered me. Amelia opened the door. ‘I think the Miss Andrews live here?’ ‘Yes, ma'am.ma’am.’ ‘Aren't you connected with the Infant School?’ ‘Yes, ma’am.’ I asked if I could come in and see the children. She agreed quite solemnly. I couldn't hold it in, jumped at her, and pinned her to the wall for a kiss. She recognized me right away, grabbed my hands, and pulled me in with wild delight...

Then I went to No. 3 [Croft Place] and when Mrs. L. said she did not know me, I said, ‘I wonder if the house does, for I was born in it.’ Then she knew me instantly.”

Then I went to No. 3 [Croft Place], and when Mrs. L. said she didn’t recognize me, I said, ‘I wonder if the house does, because I was born in it.’ Then she recognized me right away.”

All this gives a vivid picture of the warm heart and riotous spirits that endeared her to her friends, but there are not wanting indications of the mysterious depression and forebodings—the dread of something worse than death—that are part of the heritage of gifted youth.

All this paints a clear picture of the warm heart and lively spirit that made her beloved by her friends, but there are also signs of the mysterious sadness and fears—the dread of something worse than death—that come with being a gifted young person.

“26th. Friday. I am afraid I don’t care near so much for—as I did,—am I changeable or is she changed? or is my standard altered?... I read once of a person whose physical condition was such that he could not love one person intensely for long,—not many years if thrown much together.... I sometimes fear I am similarly constituted. For even those nearest and dearest I have experienced those fluctuations.... It is like a frightful trance to know that I cannot keep a warm deep love equal; and yet in a manner the real undercurrent of love flows on even in these estrangements,—I cannot in myself cease to love one who has ever been the object of that wild adoring love, though in my outer mind and heart this tormenting, fiendlike malady makes me hate and shrink from them while its fearful influence reigns. God grant there is no touch of insanity in it; no words can tell how I dread and deprecate it. There is a loathsome horrible fear in my mind of its coming ever and anon. My ..., my beautiful, whom I used to think mysteriously close to my soul, it has come on her. Oh, God pity me! I fear I shall go wild. Every action, every word of her’s seems to anger me unreasonably,—I feel the fiend on me and yet the wild resistless love will not quite be swept away, and comes 58back in floods of passing tenderness for a moment. And I can’t tell her, make her understand, and she will lose her love for me and—oh, dear I am very miserable. God grant in pity it may never fall on my Mother! I have a horrible dread of it. I could not live without her love,—my love for her. And I feel such wild maddening love now, as if I knew it would soon be out of my power to love her.”

“26th. Friday. I'm afraid I don’t care as much for her as I once did—am I the one changing or has she changed? Or has my standard shifted?... I read about someone whose physical condition made it so he could not love anyone intensely for long—not for many years if they were around each other a lot.... Sometimes I worry I’m similar. Even with those closest to me, I’ve felt these ups and downs.... It’s like a terrifying trance to realize that I cannot maintain a deep, warm love consistently; yet somehow, the real undercurrent of love keeps flowing even during these estrangements— I can't stop loving someone who has always been the object of that intense adoring love, even while my outer mind and heart are tormented by this fiendish condition that makes me hate and pull away from them while its awful grip holds me. God help me, I hope there’s no hint of insanity in it; no words can express how much I dread and loathe it. There’s a disgusting, horrible fear in my mind of it returning again and again. My..., my beautiful one, whom I used to feel mysteriously connected to my soul, it has affected her. Oh, God have mercy on me! I fear I might go crazy. Every action, every word of hers seems to upset me unreasonably—I can feel the fiend creeping in yet the wild, irresistible love won’t quite disappear, and it comes back in waves of passing tenderness for a moment. And I can't tell her, can't make her understand, and she’ll lose her love for me and—oh dear, I am very miserable. God, please let this never happen to my mother! I have a terrible fear of it. I couldn’t live without her love—my love for her. And I feel such wild, maddening love now, as if I know it will soon be out of my control.”

This, of course, is morbid, and yet here again one is forced to say that her depression is neither feigned nor wholly without reason. Many people have experienced in some degree the elemental fitfulness which she describes, and she probably understood it better than most. And yet how many can testify to her fundamental and self-sacrificing constancy! But there is no doubt that at this period she was living far too self-absorbed a life,—dreaming too much, thinking too much of herself. It was time for something to happen, and fortunately something did happen. Two breezy wholesome girl cousins—half Irish, half Norfolk—came to Sussex Square on a visit. They were the daughters of Ferrier Jex-Blake, S. J.-B.’s uncle, but it chanced that she had never met them before. She was out dining with friends when they arrived.

This is definitely gloomy, but it’s clear that her depression isn’t just made up or completely without cause. Many people have experienced the kind of ups and downs she talks about, and she probably understood it better than most. But how many can really appreciate her deep and selfless dedication? There's no doubt that during this time, she was living too much in her own head—daydreaming and focusing way too much on herself. It was definitely time for a change, and thankfully, a change came. Two lively, down-to-earth girl cousins—half Irish, half Norfolk—came to visit Sussex Square. They were the daughters of Ferrier Jex-Blake, S. J.-B.’s uncle, but it just so happened that she had never met them before. She was out having dinner with friends when they arrived.

“When I did come home, I went to take off my things, then to the drawing-room, kissed them coolly enough, said, ‘How d’ye do, cousins?’ and sat down to rattle. Tried hard to shock them with all sorts of nonsense, and then carried them to see my room, and made them some coffee. They, Elinor and Sarah, knew nothing of me, and did not much admire me, I guess, that night.”night.”

“When I finally got home, I went to change out of my clothes, then headed to the living room, greeted them coolly enough, said, ‘How’s it going, cousins?’ and sat down to chat. I tried hard to surprise them with all sorts of nonsense, then took them to see my room and made them some coffee. Elinor and Sarah didn’t know anything about me and probably didn’t think much of me, I guess, that night.”night.”

By degrees, however, a very warm friendship sprang up.

Gradually, a very close friendship developed.

“Oh, dear, those two girls!” she writes a fortnight later. “What a flood of happiness they have brought into the house. And made me behave a little too. Sarah makes me attend to my hair. Oh, dear, home is a different place since they have been here. I am so happy. All my gloom and troubles swept off like cobwebs.”

“Oh, wow, those two girls!” she writes two weeks later. “What a wave of happiness they’ve brought into the house. And they’ve helped me act a little better too. Sarah makes me take care of my hair. Oh, wow, home feels completely different now that they’re here. I am so happy. All my sadness and troubles have vanished like cobwebs.”

When they are gone, she writes pages of analysis of their characters, and very able analysis it is. This is how it concludes:

When they leave, she writes pages analyzing their characters, and it's quite insightful analysis. This is how it wraps up:

“I feel as if I mean to love Ellie most, and Sarah forces me to love her most. I love Ellie most in my mind, and Sarah most in 59my heart. Sarah clings to me so, leans on me. Ellie walks upright beside me, a companion, a guide, and gives me a hand. There certainly is something of the angel about Ellie, with much of the woman. You don’t connect the idea of angel with Sarah.

“I feel like I really love Ellie the most, but Sarah makes me love her more. I love Ellie more in my thoughts, and Sarah more in my heart. Sarah clings to me tightly and leans on me. Ellie stands tall next to me, a friend, a guide, and offers me support. There’s definitely something angelic about Ellie, mixed with a lot of womanhood. You don’t associate the idea of an angel with Sarah.”

Sarah will do almost anything for me. I do not think she has refused me one thing since she loved me. She rode with me when no one on earth could get her to mount a horse; she went in a boat with me, though she never will enter one. Oh, she is so good, so loving to me. I wish I had her always.

Sarah will do just about anything for me. I don’t think she’s ever said no to me since she fell in love with me. She rode horses with me when no one else could get her to go near one; she got in a boat with me, even though she usually won’t step foot in one. Oh, she’s so kind, so loving toward me. I wish I could have her by my side all the time.

And I am going to them at Dunham, my darlings.”

And I'm going to see them at Dunham, my loves.”

When it became known that she was going on a visit to Great Dunham, a number of Norfolk relatives on both sides of the house asked her to visit them also, and the result was that for the next two months she had quite a gay time,—beginning with her Mother’s elder sister, Mrs. Taylor, and going from her to the Ferrier Jex-Blakes, the Evans, the Blake Humfreys, the Cubitts and others. As a rule—not without exceptions—she captivated her girl cousins, proved very attractive to her uncles and elderly male cousins, and contrived to rub along with her aunts. “I never appreciated my old Daddy till now,” she writes on one occasion, “I really believe, as Mummy says, he never said an un-nice thing in his life, or approached a coarse or ungentlemanly joke. He is certainly a beau-ideal gentleman, ‘Chevalier sans reproche.’”

When it became known that she was visiting Great Dunham, several relatives from Norfolk on both sides of her family asked her to visit them too, and as a result, she spent the next two months having quite a good time—starting with her mother's older sister, Mrs. Taylor, and then moving on to the Ferrier Jex-Blakes, the Evanses, the Blake Humfreys, the Cubitts, and others. Generally—not without exceptions—she charmed her girl cousins, was very appealing to her uncles and older male cousins, and managed to get along with her aunts. “I never appreciated my old dad until now,” she writes at one point, “I really believe, as Mom says, he never said an un-nice thing in his life or made a coarse or ungentlemanly joke. He is definitely a perfect gentleman, 'Knight without reproach.'”

Of one family she says, “Not very quiet and not specially dutiful. Rather reminds me of us, only they are more good-tempered over it.”

Of one family she says, “Not exactly quiet and not particularly obedient. They kind of remind me of us, only they are more easygoing about it.”

“Uncle Evans amused me exceedingly at lunch yesterday, giving his opinion in quite energetic style, and as if he had studied the subject, that not only I should marry, which I said I shouldn’t, but very soon.... Heaven knows who it could be.... I never saw the man I would have.”

“Uncle Evans entertained me a lot at lunch yesterday, sharing his thoughts in a lively way, as if he had really thought about it, that not only should I get married, which I said I wouldn’t, but very soon… God knows who it could be… I’ve never seen the guy I would want.”

At Wroxham she made the acquaintance of a cousin, Robert Blake-Humfrey, who was deeply interested in questions of pedigree, heraldry, etc., and he found in the creator of Sackermena an apt pupil.

At Wroxham, she met her cousin, Robert Blake-Humfrey, who was really into topics like family lineage and heraldry. He found the creator of Sackermena to be a quick learner.

“Hurrah! Going in for a good morning’s work at the pedigree. 9¼.

“Yay! Starting off a productive morning with the pedigree. 9¼.

Near one! well, well! I certainly have had pedigree to my heart’s content. Been hard at work for 3½ hours till my back aches 60and I am properly tired. Never mind, I have learned a good deal and secured a good deal. It is very kind of Robert to trust me with his valuable pedigrees, so beautifully emblazoned.”

Near one! Well, well! I definitely have had enough pedigree to satisfy me. I’ve been working hard for 3½ hours and my back is aching, plus I am really tired. But that’s okay, I’ve learned a lot and gained a lot too. It’s really nice of Robert to trust me with his valuable pedigrees, so beautifully decorated. 60

Mr. Blake-Humfrey was good enough to consider that he too derived benefit from the lessons. “Your observant eyes,” he writes when she is gone, “have done good service in sundry ways towards the correction of errors, which may atone in some measure for the mischief they are well-calculated to cause in other ways.”

Mr. Blake-Humfrey was kind enough to realize that he also gained from the lessons. “Your sharp eyes,” he writes after she leaves, “have been very helpful in various ways to correct mistakes, which might make up in some way for the trouble they can easily cause in other ways.”

On May 28th she visited her Mother’s old home, Honing Hall, and made the acquaintance of an elderly uncle who was something of a character.

On May 28th, she visited her mom's old home, Honing Hall, and met an eccentric elderly uncle.

“He offered lunch, and then took us up to see the rooms. All shutters up, and had to be re-opened and re-shut. In an upstairs sitting-room I unluckily wanted to see a Family Bible, and said, ‘Is that the Family Bible with the names, etc.?’ ‘Yes, it is. You leave it alone—unless you want to see it.’it.’ I persisted I did and he took it down. Then out came Burke’s Gentry and alia.... I thought I should have been eaten up the way he roared at me. I asked if he hadn’t a pedigree, and he almost roared again, wanting to know what I could want better than Burke. I might have told him there were no shields, no intermarriages, etc., but I held my peace, he really frightened me. I got him to show me my dear old Mother’s room as a girl, and kissed the bed and furniture. Thought of her as a girl there, her fun and her troubles, her courting-days perhaps and the letters and thought and hopes that room had witnessed. My precious darling Mother!”

“He offered us lunch, then took us upstairs to see the rooms. All the shutters were closed and had to be opened and shut again. In an upstairs sitting room, I unfortunately asked to see a Family Bible and said, ‘Is that the Family Bible with the names, etc.?’ ‘Yes, it is. Just leave it alone—unless you really want to see it.it.’ I insisted I did, and he took it down. Then Burke’s Gentry and alia came out.... I thought he was going to explode the way he yelled at me. I asked if he had a pedigree, and he almost yelled again, wanting to know what more I could want than Burke. I could’ve mentioned that there were no shields, no intermarriages, etc., but I stayed quiet; he really frightened me. I got him to show me my dear Mother’s room from when she was a girl, and I kissed the bed and furniture. I thought of her as a girl there, her fun and her troubles, her dating days maybe, and the letters and thoughts and hopes that room had witnessed. My precious darling Mother!”

In July she returned to Brighton, “much better and better-tempered” as she expresses it, for the outing. Richer, too, she was, in her whole outlook on life, and particularly in the knowledge of her girl-cousins, Elinor and Sarah Jex-Blake, and Mary Evans, with all of whom the friendship was to prove a lasting one.

In July, she went back to Brighton, “much better and better-tempered,” as she puts it, from the trip. She was also richer in her overall outlook on life, especially in the knowledge she gained from her girl-cousins, Elinor and Sarah Jex-Blake, and Mary Evans, with whom she formed a lasting friendship.

A month later, to Sophy’s great joy, Cousin Ellie accompanied the Sussex Square party on a holiday visit to Wales.

A month later, to Sophy's delight, Cousin Ellie joined the Sussex Square group for a holiday trip to Wales.

Primary education at Bettws-y-Coed was at a low ebb in those days, the village school being in the hands of a cobbler whose acquirements were not great, and whose idea of discipline was primitive in the extreme. Caroline and Sophy Jex-Blake became deeply interested in the children and 61gradually fell into the habit of taking a class in reading, arithmetic, geography, etc. It was an arrangement that gave great satisfaction to all concerned, and one into which Sophy entered with whole-hearted enthusiasm. One is not surprised to gather from the letters of the period that she awakened a feeling deeper than interest in one of the professional men with whom she was brought in contact, but the diary makes no reference to the fact, and she may not even have been aware of it.

Primary education in Bettws-y-Coed was pretty poor back then, with the village school run by a cobbler who wasn't very educated and had a very basic approach to discipline. Caroline and Sophy Jex-Blake became really interested in the kids and gradually started taking a class in reading, math, geography, and so on. This setup made everyone happy, and Sophy dove into it with lots of enthusiasm. It's not surprising to learn from letters of that time that she stirred up feelings deeper than mere interest in one of the professional men she interacted with, but the diary doesn’t mention it, so she might not have even realized it.

“To me and to others as far as I can judge,” writes Cousin Ellie about this date, “she is the warmest-hearted person ever I came across.”

“To me and to others as far as I can tell,” writes Cousin Ellie about this date, “she is the warmest-hearted person I've ever met.”

And six months later, reviewing the events of an eventful year, S. J.-B. writes:

And six months later, looking back on the events of a memorable year, S. J.-B. writes:

“But among the events of the old year, first and chief, my becoming friends with my darlings, my stars, and getting acquainted with the Evans and all the Norfolk folks.”

“But among the events of the past year, first and foremost, was my becoming friends with my darlings, my stars, and getting to know the Evans family and all the people from Norfolk.”

CHAPTER VI
LIFE AT QUEEN’S COLLEGE

Meanwhile, in the world outside, the feminist movement was beginning to make itself felt,—if one may describe by so inadequate a name an uprising which is due perhaps as much to the men as to the women who have taken part in it. As regards the whole movement S. J.-B. was living as completely in a backwater as was possible to a girl of her position and natural gifts; but sooner or later a current from the main river was bound to come in even to her little creek.

Meanwhile, in the world outside, the feminist movement was starting to make an impact—if that’s even a fitting term for an uprising fueled as much by men as by the women involved. In terms of the entire movement, S. J.-B. was living completely isolated from it, as much as could be expected for a girl of her background and natural talents; but eventually, a current from the main river was bound to reach even her little creek.

In the spring of 1858 she had made the acquaintance of Miss Benson, sister of the Archbishop. “Henry and Ada Benson came,” is the brief record in her diary. “Pleasant, jolly girl, Ada.” The wanderings of that pleasant summer hindered the development of the friendship for the moment, but the thread was happily taken up again in the autumn.

In the spring of 1858, she met Miss Benson, the sister of the Archbishop. “Henry and Ada Benson came,” is the short note in her diary. “Pleasant, fun girl, Ada.” The travels of that enjoyable summer delayed the growth of their friendship for a while, but they happily picked up where they left off in the autumn.

“Yesterday went with Ada to the Swedish minstrels. Very strange and beautiful.... After concert went for a drive in the pony-chaise. Just beyond the battery a carriage and pair drove into us. Coachman got down and was very civil. Everyone said it was no fault of mine; he was trying to cut in between two. I was not the least frightened.

"Yesterday, I went with Ada to see the Swedish performers. It was really strange and beautiful... After the concert, we took a drive in the pony cart. Just past the battery, a carriage and pair crashed into us. The driver got down and was really polite. Everyone said it wasn’t my fault; he was trying to squeeze in between two others. I wasn't scared at all."

Speaking to Ada on Thursday night revived the idea of Queen’s College. Her sister there. Wrote Friday for prospectus. Tried to speak to Daddy last night. He very impracticable, I after a while very undutiful. At last I went into hysterics ^[13] which frightened 63him dreadfully, poor old man. I shall certainly go, I think. Michaelmas term begins 4th prox. I should very much like a year’s or even less, good work, and a few certificates.

Talking to Ada on Thursday night brought back the idea of Queen’s College. Her sister is there. Wrote on Friday for the prospectus. Tried to talk to Dad last night. He was really difficult, and after a while, I was pretty rebellious. Finally, I started to cry hysterically ^[13] which really scared him, the poor old man. I definitely think I’ll go. The Michaelmas term starts on the 4th of next month. I would really like to do a year, or even less, of good work and get a few certificates.

Very good last night Ada Benson’s story of the Bishop of —— ‘Opposed as I am to the Catholic faith, opposed, as I say I am to the Catholic faith...’ on which a priest from the body of the meeting, —‘Which faith except..., etc.’”etc.’”

Very good last night, Ada Benson’s story about the Bishop of —— ‘I’m against the Catholic faith, and I stand by that…’ said a priest from the audience, ‘Which faith except…, etc.etc.’”

How she always did delight in a good story! The most strenuous passages of the diary are interspersed with pages of jokes, riddles, anagrams, bon-mots, some very good, some as she herself admits on reflection, very indifferent. She used to say that a sense of humour had been her salvation,—that, but for that, she never could have got through the many struggles of her life.

How she always loved a good story! The most intense parts of the diary are mixed with pages of jokes, riddles, anagrams, witty remarks, some really good, some as she admits upon reflection, quite average. She always said that her sense of humor was her saving grace—that without it, she never would have made it through the many challenges of her life.

And one is glad to think how often that sense of humour must have come to relieve the intensity of that first conscious struggle for freedom, when she herself felt that in venturing forward she was renouncing a good deal,—that the life before her was an uncharted sea.

And it’s comforting to think about how often that sense of humor must have helped ease the intensity of her initial conscious struggle for freedom, when she realized that by moving forward, she was giving up quite a lot—and that the life ahead of her was an unknown territory.

“Worst thing about Queen’s College is—no Sarah till Christmas,” she writes. “M. brought“M. brought me an invite to write for the Sunday School Quarterly. Sat up till 2 a.m. Friday to write story on 18th after Trinity. I wonder if I shall succeed, and, if so, how compatible with Queen’s?

“Worst thing about Queen’s College is—no Sarah till Christmas,” she writes. “M. brought“M. brought me an invite to write for the Sunday School Quarterly. Stayed up until 2 a.m. Friday to write a story about the 18th after Trinity. I wonder if I’ll succeed, and if I do, how it will fit in with Queen’s?

Sept. 25th. All settled for Queen’s. Mrs. Williams writes very kindly.... Having rather hard work with Redknap, five lessons a week. Must try for 2nd class in Mathematics, and, if I can, for more.

Sept. 25th. All set for Queen’s. Mrs. Williams wrote really kindly.... I'm having quite a tough time with Redknap, taking five lessons a week. I have to aim for a 2nd class in Mathematics, and if possible, for more.

Absurd panic at Dunham lest I should be a ‘governess’! Awful phantom!”

Absurd panic at Dunham that I might be a 'governess'! What a terrible nightmare!

It is difficult for girl students of the present day to imagine all that was meant by the opening of Queen’s College in 1858. The plan of establishing a college for women had been much discussed by Alfred Tennyson, Charles Kingsley, and others; and the work had been warmly taken up by Frederick Denison Maurice, E. H. Plumptre (afterwards Dean of Wells) and R. C. Trench (afterwards Archbishop of Dublin), all three of whom were represented on the teaching staff.^[14] We may imagine 64what it meant for S. J.-B. to pass from the hands of the average schoolmistress of that day to teachers such as these.

It’s hard for today’s female students to picture what it meant when Queen’s College opened in 1858. The idea of creating a college for women had been extensively discussed by Alfred Tennyson, Charles Kingsley, and others; and it was enthusiastically supported by Frederick Denison Maurice, E. H. Plumptre (who later became Dean of Wells), and R. C. Trench (who later became Archbishop of Dublin), all of whom were part of the teaching staff.^[14] We can imagine what it was like for S. J.-B. to move from the average schoolmistress of that time to teachers like these.

On the 5th October she settled down to work, and three days later she writes:

On October 5th, she got to work, and three days later, she writes:

“Very delicious it is to be here. ‘Oh, if there be an Elysium on earth, it is this, it is this!’ I am inclined to say. I am as happy as a queen. Work and independence! What can be more charming? Really perfection. So delicious in the present, what will it be to look back upon?”

“It's so delicious to be here. ‘Oh, if there is an Elysium on earth, it is this, it is this!’ I feel like saying. I’m as happy as a queen. Work and independence! What could be more delightful? Truly perfection. It's so wonderful right now, how great will it be to look back on this?”

She was “fay” that night, as they say in Scotland: it was scarcely lucky to be so happy. She little guessed, poor child, “what it would be to look back upon” her life at Queen’s. Much happiness she got from that life, no doubt,—a rich harvest of education, contact with interesting temperaments and able minds, friendships that were only broken by death. But there are some people endowed for better or worse, with the gift of taking what seem to be the side-issues of life far too intensely, of living half-a-dozen lives in addition to the one they have definitely chosen, of wringing out of an average human lot an amount of joy, of experience and of suffering that to their companions would seem simply incredible. And S. J.-B. was essentially one of these. Incidentally in the course of the day’s work she would develop fresh interests, make unusual friendships, perhaps even incur resentments that might well have demanded her whole strength and energy; and all these threads had to be carried on in addition to the recognized work of her life.

She was "fey" that night, as they say in Scotland: it was hardly fortunate to be so happy. She hardly realized, poor thing, "what it would be to look back upon" her life at Queen's. She definitely gained a lot of happiness from that experience—a rich source of education, interactions with interesting characters and sharp minds, friendships that would only end with death. But some people are, for better or worse, gifted at experiencing what seem like side issues of life far too intensely, living several lives in addition to the one they have chosen, squeezing out an amount of joy, experience, and suffering from an ordinary life that seems simply unbelievable to others. And S. J.-B. was definitely one of these. Throughout the day, she would spark new interests, form unusual friendships, and maybe even provoke resentments that could have easily drained her strength and energy; and all these threads had to be managed alongside the recognized work of her life.

That the recognized work was in itself no sinecure may be gathered from her report for the Michaelmas term. She has “good,” sometimes “very good” reports in all her seven classes,—four of them being signed by F. D. Maurice, E. H. Plumptre and R. C. Trench. The classes were arithmetic, geometry and algebra, English language and composition, French, history, natural philosophy and astronomy, theology, and church history.

The fact that the acknowledged work was far from easy can be seen from her report for the Michaelmas term. She received “good” and sometimes “very good” evaluations in all seven of her classes—four of which were signed by F. D. Maurice, E. H. Plumptre, and R. C. Trench. The classes included arithmetic, geometry, and algebra; English language and composition; French; history; natural philosophy and astronomy; theology; and church history.

She was popular with her fellow-students, and particularly so with Miss Agnes Wodehouse (afterwards Mrs. Williams) whom she greatly admired, and of whom she made, incidentally, as profound a study as she did of her Euclid and history. 65“How few ladies there are!” she concludes. “Agnes Wodehouse is thorough. So is my Mother. Few else.” And again in this connection, “I believe I love women too much ever to love a man. Yet who can tell? Well, S. J.-B., don’t get sentimental, for patience’ sake.”

She was well-liked by her classmates, especially by Miss Agnes Wodehouse (later Mrs. Williams), whom she admired greatly and studied just as deeply as she did her Euclid and history. 65“There are so few ladies!” she concludes. “Agnes Wodehouse is exceptional. So is my mother. Very few others.” And again in this context, “I think I love women too much to ever love a man. But who really knows? Anyway, S. J.-B., don’t get all sentimental, for goodness' sake.”

Unfortunately she was not so appreciative of one of the younger women who was more or less in authority over her. The new student meant no harm, but she took playful liberties, and no doubt, as formerly at school, amused the other girls by her wit and audacity. After a good deal of sparring and chaffing, things came to an impasse, and it was judged better by all concerned that S. J.-B. should seek a home for herself elsewhere. This was not an easy matter in those days when hostels and homes of residence for women students were unknown; and so, to the other work of her life, was added the toil of tramping about in search of suitable quarters.

Unfortunately, she didn't appreciate one of the younger women who was somewhat in charge of her. The new student meant no harm, but she playfully crossed boundaries and, just like at school before, entertained the other girls with her humor and boldness. After a lot of back-and-forth teasing, things reached an deadlock, and everyone agreed that it would be better for S. J.-B. to find a place to live elsewhere. This wasn't an easy task back then, as hostels and residential homes for women students were not common; so, alongside her other responsibilities, she had to deal with the hassle of searching for a suitable place to stay.

She made a number of unfortunate ventures, sampling experiences familiar enough to the middle-class bachelor woman of the present day, though somewhat staggering to the well-bred mid-Victorian girl. The bankrupt householder, the drunken landlady, the undesirable male lodger, “and other fauna,” formed part of the things that had to be taken—and were taken most pluckily—in the day’s work. If S. J.-B. was instrumental in bringing ill-fortune on herself—as was not infrequently the case—she never sat down and howled,—she never even thought of giving in: she simply put her shoulder to the wheel and went on with what she had been doing. And so it was now, under very difficult conditions, for, once and again, hopes were raised, hopes were dashed, and the weary struggle began afresh,—with many bad headaches and occasional sore throats to complicate matters.

She went through several unfortunate experiences, trying things that are pretty familiar to today's middle-class single woman, though they were quite shocking for a well-bred Victorian girl. The broke homeowner, the drunk landlady, the unwanted male tenant, “and other characters,” were just part of the challenges that had to be faced—and were faced bravely—as part of daily life. If S. J.-B. brought bad luck upon herself—as happened fairly often—she never sat down and cried; she never even considered giving up: she just rolled up her sleeves and continued with what she was doing. And that was the case now, under very tough circumstances, as, time and again, hopes were raised, hopes were dashed, and the exhausting struggle started all over again—with many headaches and occasional sore throats to complicate things.

“Quite an experience of troubles,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake, “as much as if you had lived many years. I think no one could have acted more wisely than you have done”: and again, “I wish I were near, yet I don’t think I could be a real help: it is not in my way.” And the same might have been said by many other friends. Greater drawbacks were involved then than now in leaving one’s own social groove.

“Such a challenging experience,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake, “as if you had lived many years. I don’t think anyone could have acted more wisely than you did”: and again, “I wish I were closer, but I don’t think I could really help: it’s just not my style.” Many other friends could have said the same. Back then, leaving your own social circle came with greater challenges than it does now.

66“You have behaved very sensibly through the whole trial, which has not been a light one,” says her Father.

66“You have acted very wisely throughout this whole trial, which has not been an easy one,” says her Father.

In her diary she writes,—

In her journal she writes,—

“Mummy says it is (my boarding-house troubles, she means) quite an experience of life. Truly not in these alone. Many, I believe, never live as much, and through as much, as I have done already, in the whole course of life.”

“Mummy says my boarding-house troubles are quite the life experience. Honestly, not just these. I believe many people never live as much, and through as much, as I have already, in their entire lives.”

Fortunately there was one house at least where she could always take refuge, and never failed to find herself a welcome guest,—the house of Mr. Cordery at Hampstead. Her brother had married one of the daughters, Miss Henrietta Cordery, in June 1857, but the friendship was of much longer standing than that, and it would be difficult to exaggerate the comfort and support she derived from it throughout life. With Mr. James Cordery and his sisters Emma and Bertha (now Mrs. S. R. Gardiner) in particular she remained in intimate association, and always managed—even after years of separation—to take up the threads again without a break. She was always at her best in that Hampstead home, full of gaiety and joie de vivre—never afraid to be her real audacious young self.

Fortunately, there was at least one house where she could always find refuge and was always welcomed as a guest—Mr. Cordery's house in Hampstead. Her brother had married one of the daughters, Miss Henrietta Cordery, in June 1857, but their friendship went back much further, and it’s hard to overstate the comfort and support she gained from it throughout her life. She stayed close with Mr. James Cordery and his sisters, Emma and Bertha (now Mrs. S. R. Gardiner), and she always managed—even after years apart—to reconnect as if no time had passed. She was at her best in that Hampstead home, filled with joy and joy of living—never afraid to be her bold, young self.

Immediately after the extract from the diary given above, she goes on light-heartedly:

Immediately after the excerpt from the diary given above, she continues in a cheerful manner:

“I am so thoroughly happy in this way of life, hardly any other could suit me as well. So independent, yet so busy, so comfortable, yet not luxurious. Plenty, yet no superfluity. It is certainly very kind of the dear ‘old folks’ to let me have it so, and very wise. I should never, at least at present, have settled at home. I should have been ever longing for independence and work, and now I have all I want and may yet do good. Having, as Maurice would say, found my centre, other things will, I trust, grow up around it. I trust most fervently I may yet be a real comfort to my precious Mother and dear kind Father. As last year I computed my ‘worldly estate,’ as quaint old Pepys, whose diary I am reading, would say; I do it again. I have now for dress and private money £40 per year. Henceforth I shall have tutor’s money as well. From my Father I have, I think, as well as I can calculate, about £50 a term for all expenses, besides all paid when at home, as well as travelling expenses with them or anywhere (except while at College) and riding, etc. So in actual money I have about £200 a year and in money’s worth another £100. Therefore I conclude about £300 a year to 67be about the happy medium of wealth for a single woman. Dear generous old Father! Few would, I think, give so much in so good a way to their children. I believe as regards happiness and satisfaction never was money better, if never more kindly, spent. I must try to pay back the ‘labour of love,’ and ‘requite my parents,’ dear, dear old things! Bless them both.

“I am so completely happy with this way of life; hardly anything else would suit me as well. I’m so independent, yet so busy, so comfortable, yet not luxurious. There’s plenty, yet no excess. It’s really very kind of my dear ‘old folks’ to let me have it this way, and very wise. I would never, at least not right now, have settled at home. I would have always longed for independence and work, and now I have everything I want and can still do good. Having, as Maurice would say, found my center, I hope other things will grow around it. I sincerely hope I can still be a real comfort to my precious Mother and dear kind Father. Last year, I calculated my ‘worldly estate,’ as the quaint old Pepys, whose diary I’m reading, would say; I do it again. I now have £40 a year for clothes and personal expenses. From now on, I’ll also have tutor’s money. From my Father, I think I have, as far as I can calculate, about £50 a term for all expenses, plus everything paid when at home, as well as travel expenses with them or anywhere (except while at College) and riding, etc. So in actual money, I have about £200 a year and in equivalent value another £100. Therefore, I conclude about £300 a year is the happy medium of wealth for a single woman. Dear generous old Father! I think few would give so much in such a good way to their children. I believe, regarding happiness and satisfaction, money has never been better spent, if never more kindly. I must try to repay the ‘labor of love’ and ‘give back to my parents,’ dear, dear old things! Bless them both.”

I really believe as regards money I am honestly quite contented. I wish for no more. And as this is, they say, a somewhat remarkable fact, I specially note it down. Yet it sounds ludicrously tempting to reply to myself, Contented! Shame on you if you were not, I think. Yet for actual pocket money, I am horribly pinched just now,—only 9s. 9d. till next quarter,—nearly four weeks hence.”

I truly believe that when it comes to money, I am honestly quite content. I don't want anything more. And since this is considered somewhat remarkable, I make a special note of it. Still, it sounds ridiculous to respond to myself, "Content? Shame on you if you weren't," I think. Yet in terms of actual cash, I'm really struggling right now—only 9s. 9d. until next quarter—nearly four weeks from now.

The reference to “tutor’s money” is interesting. She had not been two months at College when she was asked to take the post of mathematical tutor. The suggestion gave her great pleasure, and she broached the subject to her parents when she next went home. Though startled, they were on the whole pleased at the honour done her, but things assumed a different aspect when her father realized the conditions on which the tutorship was to be held.

The mention of "tutor’s money" is interesting. She hadn’t been at College for even two months when she was offered the role of mathematical tutor. The suggestion made her really happy, so she brought it up with her parents during her next visit home. Although they were surprised, they were mostly pleased by the honor, but their attitude changed when her father understood the conditions that came with the tutorship.

The correspondence seems well worth quoting in extenso:

The correspondence seems well worth quoting in full:

“Jan. 28th.

Dearest, I have only this moment heard that you contemplate being paid for the tutorship. It would be quite beneath you, darling, and I cannot consent to it. Take the post as one of honour and usefulness, and I shall be glad, and you will be no loser, be quite sure. But to be paid for the work would be to alter the thing completely, and would lower you sadly in the eyes of almost everybody. Do not think about it, dearest, and you will rejoice greatly by and bye with all who love you best.”

Hey, I just heard that you’re thinking about getting paid for the tutoring job. That’s really beneath you, sweetheart, and I can’t agree to it. Take the position as a matter of honor and service, and I’ll be happy, and you won't regret it, trust me. But getting paid for the work would change everything completely, and would unfortunately lower your standing in the eyes of almost everyone. Don’t even consider it, my dear, and you’ll be very pleased later with all the people who care for you the most.”

A few days later he writes again:

A few days later, he writes again:

“My dear Sophy,—and you are very dear to me—you have been much in my thoughts, and I have been grieved to know that you have had so much real harass, and were so tried before you settled down in your present peaceful domicile. Now all is well, I trust, and you in peace and comfort, so, remembering the Appellant from Philip drunk to Philip sober, make the application, giving me the benefit of it, and bear with me, my own child, whilst I briefly tell you what I think and hope. I heartily admire your readiness to turn your talents to good account, and employ them in a way so clearly beneficial to others, but believe me that if you take money 68payment, you will make a sad mistake, debase your standing, and place yourself in a position that people in general, including many relations and friends, will never as long as you live understand otherwise than as greatly to your discredit. You would be considered mean and illiberal,—tho’ I am sure you are neither the one or the other—accepting wages that belong to a class beneath you in social rank, and which (it would be said) you had no right, under any circumstances, to appropriate to yourself....”

Dear Sophy,—and you mean a lot to me—you’ve been on my mind a lot, and I’ve been saddened to learn about all the challenges you’ve faced before finally settling into your current peaceful home. I hope everything is well now, and that you are in a state of peace and comfort. So, recalling the journey from Philip drunk to Philip sober, please consider my request and give me your support, while I briefly share my thoughts and hopes with you. I truly admire how ready you are to use your talents for good and dedicate them to something that benefits others. However, believe me when I say that if you accept payment, you will make a serious mistake, lower your reputation, and put yourself in a position that most people, including many family members and friends, will never truly understand as anything but a major flaw in your character. You’d be viewed as petty and ungracious,—though I know you are neither of those—accepting wages that belong to a social class beneath you, and which (people would say) you had no right to claim for yourself....

The reply to this came by return of post:

The response to this arrived in the next mail:

“Feb. 3rd ’59.

My own darling Daddy,

My own dear Dad

I got your kind old letter this morning, for which, thanks....

I received your thoughtful old letter this morning, and I appreciate it.

Well, as to this Tutorship. I have thought about it, and about all the accompanying circumstances. If you will listen, I will try to tell you what I think. I believe I am particularly suited for teaching, my taste, and I fancy my talent, lies that way. I generally succeed pretty well in making my pupils understand what I understand myself and so far I suppose that proves my capability. Well, there are so many who make teaching their profession, who do not love it, and are not fond of it or fit for it, that I think anything that can be done to raise the standard of teaching and teachers, must be good. Well, this would be effectually done if everyone who loved the business (and was therefore necessarily to a degree fit for it) undertook it, and no others. I think this very College is doing much to raise the standard, and I fancy they are particularly anxious—the authorities, I mean—to get teachers of a somewhat superior rank in society (as generally considered). Well, justly or not, I am, I believe, supposed to be of rather higher class than the generality of teachers, and therefore specially eligible. I suppose I certainly have considerable talent for Mathematics, if for anything. It is the one thing I know best and love best. Then—when the Mathematical Tutorship is vacant,—surely I am right enough to be anxious to obtain it. I was thought capable, and chosen.

Well, about this tutoring position. I've thought it over, along with all the related details. If you’ll listen, I’ll share what I think. I believe I’m particularly suited for teaching; it aligns with my interests, and I think I have a talent for it. I usually do quite well in helping my students grasp the concepts I understand myself, and so far, I think that shows my capability. There are so many people who make teaching their job but don’t actually love it or aren’t suited for it, so I believe anything that can be done to improve the quality of teaching and teachers is a good thing. This would be significantly achieved if everyone who genuinely loved the profession (and was therefore somewhat suitable for it) took it on, and no one else. I think this College is doing a lot to enhance the standard, and I believe the authorities are particularly eager to recruit teachers who hold a higher status in society (as usually defined). Well, whether it’s fair or not, I think people consider me to be of a somewhat higher class than the average teacher, making me especially eligible. I believe I have considerable talent in Mathematics, if in anything. It’s the one subject I know best and enjoy the most. So, when the Mathematical Tutorship is open, I think it’s only natural for me to be eager to get it. I was deemed capable and chosen.

Now remember, Father dear, I am not here taking the place from anyone else, though if I were doing so, being myself the best fitted, I do not think my conscience need be troubled,—but this Tutorship has stood vacant for some months from sheer want of anyone capable to fill it.

Now remember, dear Father, I'm not taking this position from anyone else. Even if I were, since I'm the best qualified, I don't think I'd have to feel guilty about it. However, this Tutorship has been empty for several months simply because there hasn't been anyone capable of filling it.

Well, the terms of the agreement are—do this work, and receive this payment,—the payment contingent entirely on the work. The conditions are, if the Tutor has four pupils, forming a college class, she receives 5s. an hour. It is right and natural I think, I certainly do work equivalent to the payment, and have fairly earned it. Why should I not take it? You as a man, did your work and received 69your payment, and no one thought it any degradation, but a fair exchange. Why should the difference of my sex alter the laws of right and honour? Tom is doing on a large scale what I do on a small one,—I cannot recognize any fundamental difference in the matter. I cannot say ‘I do not want this money, I have no use for it,’ for in truth, tho’ having an ample and generous allowance, I should have plenty of use for it. Then there is the honest, and I believe, perfectly justifiable pride of earning. Did you not feel this when you received your first salary? Why should I be deprived of it? Then again you offer to give me the money if I refuse to take it from the College. But this would be a wholly false position, to get credit for generosity in refusing what I yet receive. I could not do this. In that case I must say to the Dean, not ‘I am willing to work without payment,’ but ‘My Father prefers that I should receive payment from him, not from the College,’ and I think the Dean would think us both ridiculous, or at least foolish.

Well, the terms of the agreement are simple—do this work and get paid—the payment completely depends on the work. The conditions are that if the Tutor has four students, making up a college class, she earns 5 shillings an hour. I think it's fair and natural; I definitely do work that is equal to the payment, and I’ve earned it fairly. Why shouldn’t I accept it? You, as a man, did your work and got paid, and no one thought it degrading, just a fair exchange. Why should the fact that I'm a woman change the rules of fairness and honor? Tom is doing on a larger scale what I do on a smaller one—I can’t see any fundamental difference. I can’t say, ‘I don’t want this money; I have no use for it,’ because, in truth, even though I have a generous allowance, I could definitely use it. Then there’s the honest and, I believe, completely justifiable pride of earning. Didn’t you feel this when you got your first paycheck? Why should I be denied that? Furthermore, you offer to give me money if I decline to take it from the College. But this would put me in a completely false position, getting credit for generosity by refusing something I’m still receiving. I couldn’t do that. In that case, I’d have to tell the Dean not ‘I’m willing to work without payment,’ but ‘My father prefers that I get paid by him, not the College,’ and I think the Dean would find us both ridiculous, or at least foolish.

If I wrote a book I should receive payment for that, and I presume even you would not object: why then now?

If I wrote a book, I should get paid for it, and I assume even you wouldn't disagree: so why not now?

For mental work done in the school the reward was a prize which cost money, you thought this honourable,—why should the reward of labour at College, being money, be dishonourable?

For the academic work done in school, the reward was a prize that cost money, which you considered honorable—so why should receiving money as a reward for work in college be seen as dishonorable?

Hitherto I have had a class of only 3, and therefore I have not been officially entitled to this salary. The Dean wished to make some arrangement for my payment last term, but I said at once,—‘The money is not of much consequence to me—I had rather, not having the official number, teach them as a friend and ex-officially,’ and so I have done. Here I think I was right, I could afford to teach them gratis, and I did so. The Dean was gratified, the pupils obliged, and I was satisfied. So it was last term. But if this term I get the official number, I do not see any reason except pride for declining the payment. My pupils would pay the College all the same, why should not the College pay me? I really do not see that I am doing anything either mean or dishonourable, and I hardly think you can think so either. I am sure the College authorities do not. I do not think the Dean would think the better of me for declining the money, which I should be glad to receive, on account of a scruple of pride. Do you honestly, Father, think any lady lowered by the mere act of receiving money? Did you think the less of Mrs. Teed because you paid her? Would you have thought better of her for refusing payment? I am sure you would not. You are too much of a gentleman to attach importance to money.

So far, I’ve only had a class of 3, so I haven’t officially been entitled to this salary. The Dean wanted to arrange for my payment last term, but I immediately said, “The money doesn’t matter much to me—I’d rather, since I don’t have the official number, teach them as a friend and not officially.” And that’s what I did. I think I made the right choice; I could afford to teach them for free, and I did. The Dean was pleased, the students were thankful, and I was happy. That was last term. But if I get the official number this term, I see no reason, other than pride, to turn down the payment. My students would still pay the College, so why shouldn’t the College pay me? I really don’t think I’m doing anything wrong or dishonorable, and I doubt you think so either. I’m sure the College authorities don’t either. I don’t think the Dean would respect me more if I turned down the money just because of a pride issue. Do you really think, Father, that any lady is diminished by simply receiving money? Did you think less of Mrs. Teed because you paid her? Would you have thought better of her if she refused payment? I’m sure you wouldn’t. You’re too much of a gentleman to place importance on money.

Of course the question of right or wrong, honour or dishonour, is the point. This once settled, people’s opinion is worth nothing. I should be glad that my friends had the sense to see clearly and 70rightly in the matter, if they have not, I regret it for their own sakes,—not for mine.

Of course, the question of what's right or wrong, honor or dishonor, is the main issue. Once that's settled, people's opinions don't matter. I would be glad if my friends had the clarity and understanding to see this correctly; if they don't, I feel sorry for them—not for me. 70

Of course I am speaking of indifferent people,—not of you or my Mother. I care very much that you should think me right.

Of course, I'm talking about people who don't care— not you or my mom. It really matters to me that you see me as right.

But even taking this lower view—of opinion—I do not believe that many for whom I have any regard or esteem, would ultimately think the worse of me for accepting well-earned wages. If I took the post, and, even without accepting a salary, neglected my duty, or did it not to the utmost of my power, I should be far more contemptible.

But even looking at this more modest perspective on opinions, I don't think many people I respect would think less of me for accepting fair pay. If I took the position and, even without a salary, failed to do my job or didn't give it my all, I would be much more despicable.

Mary Jane Evans, I know, for one, and she is one of the proudest families of our relations, thinks me right. Miss Wodehouse, whose family is older and better than mine, not only says I am right, but showed she agreed with my opinion by her actions. She sees no meanness in earning, but in those that think it mean. When accepting Maurice’s school, she said to him, most nobly, I think, ‘If you think it better that I should work as a paid mistress, I will take any salary you please; if not, I am willing to do the work freely and for nothing.’ I think this more noble-minded than any proud refusal of money could have been.

Mary Jane Evans, for one, is someone I know, and she’s one of the proudest families among our relatives, and she thinks I’m right. Miss Wodehouse, whose family is older and better than mine, not only says I’m right but showed she agrees with my opinion through her actions. She doesn’t see anything wrong in earning a living; it’s those who think it’s beneath them that she finds petty. When accepting Maurice’s school, she told him, quite nobly, “If you think it’s better for me to work as a paid teacher, I’ll take whatever salary you offer; if not, I’m willing to do the work freely and without pay.” I believe this is more admirable than any proud refusal of money could have been.

Well, darling Father, I have written you a very long letter, but I wished to tell you honestly all I thought, and I trust you don’t think my epistle too long....

Well, dear Father, I have written you a very long letter, but I wanted to share everything I honestly think, and I hope you don’t find my letter too long....

Your loving child,

Sophie.”

Emery Walker ph. sc.

Emery Walker, PhD, ScD.

Thomas Jex-Blake
from a drawing in chalks by H. T. Wells, R.A. 1862

Thomas Jex-Blake
from a chalk drawing by H. T. Wells, R.A. 1862

“4th Feb. 1859.

Dearest Sophy,

Dear Sophy,

Your letter has given me unmixed pleasure....

Your letter has brought me pure joy....

About the tutorship, you write very ably, but your logic and illustrations are not sound, as I hope to show you. I am sure you are fit for, as you are fond of, teaching, and the desire to raise the standard both of teaching and teachers is good, but your receiving or not receiving wages for the work, can neither help or hinder the matter. I agree to all you say in favour of working,—it is very honourable, very right, and worthy of all praise, but what I object to is your taking money for it. It is beneath you, and you will be far happier to decline it, and let it flow into its proper channels, to fructify widely and do real good.

About the tutoring, you write very well, but your reasoning and examples aren't solid, as I'll explain. I believe you're suited for and enjoy teaching, and your goal to improve the quality of both teaching and teachers is commendable, but whether you get paid for it or not doesn't really matter. I agree with everything you say about working—it's very honorable, absolutely right, and deserving of praise—but what I disagree with is you accepting money for it. It’s beneath you, and you’ll be much happier if you turn it down and let it go where it should, to genuinely benefit others.

The question is, as you say, one of right and wrong. In my deliberate judgment it is wrong, in your position to receive pay for what you do, to say nothing of the extent to which it would damage you. The cases you cite, darling, are not to the point. I will take each of them in the order you put them and then judge for yourself. I never received a salary of any kind in my life. I was 71of a liberal profession—a particularly honourable branch of it—and (chiefly) lived by it. This was ‘right’ beyond all doubt. T. W. is doing the same sort of thing. He feels bound as a man, with ability to do so, to support his wife and family, and his position is a high one, which can only be filled by a first-class man of character, and yielding him nearer two than one thousand a year. The third case—Mrs. Teed’s—like the others has no analogy whatever to my dear Sophy’s—Mrs. Teed had no means. She went out in early life as a governess to earn an honourable livelihood. She did earn it well and her talents, by God’s blessing, led to her after success, enabling her to lay by something to support herself and sister in their later years.

The question is, as you say, about right and wrong. In my honest opinion, it is wrong for you to get paid for what you do, not to mention how harmful it would be for you. The examples you mentioned, darling, aren’t relevant. I’ll address each of them in the order you provided and you can judge for yourself. I’ve never received a salary in my life. I was part of a respected profession—a particularly honorable part of it—and mostly made my living from it. This was ‘right’ without a doubt. T. W. is doing something similar. He feels he must, as a man who is capable, support his wife and family, and his job is a prestigious one that only a top-notch person of integrity can fill, earning him closer to two than one thousand a year. The third example—Mrs. Teed’s—like the others, has no comparison to my dear Sophy’s situation—Mrs. Teed had no means. She started working early in life as a governess to earn a respectable living. She did earn it well, and with God’s blessing, her talents led to her later success, allowing her to save something to support herself and her sister in their later years.

How entirely different is my darling’s case. You want for nothing, and know that (humanly speaking) you will want for nothing. If you married tomorrow to my liking—and I don’t believe you would ever marry otherwise—I should give you a good fortune. What temptation is there for your doing that which, at best, will be misunderstood to your prejudice? I should say at all events wait a bit till you are a little older, and can form a riper judgment. My feeling is strong that you being a paid teacher would certainly damage you, in what precise degree nobody can say. Do the work—it is a good work and I rejoice in it, but don’t put a penny into your purse for doing it. Let the gold go in some other direction. This will give you a greater and more lasting satisfaction than you could derive from any money payment.

How completely different is my darling's situation. You want for nothing and know that, realistically, you won't want for anything. If you married tomorrow to my approval—and I doubt you would ever marry any other way—I would give you a substantial fortune. What incentive do you have to do something that, at best, could be misinterpreted to your disadvantage? I would suggest, in any case, to wait a bit until you're a little older and can make a more mature decision. I strongly feel that being a paid teacher would definitely hurt you, though the exact extent is hard to determine. Do the work—it’s valuable work, and I’m glad you’re doing it, but don’t put a single penny into your pocket for it. Let the money flow elsewhere. This will provide you with a greater and more lasting satisfaction than any financial payment could offer.

Your loving Father,

T. Jex-Blake.”

“Feb. 5th ’59.

Dear Daddy,

Dear Dad,

Thanks for your letter. I do not know whether all my reasoning was logical,—probably not—but I do not think that your arguments respecting the relative position of (at least) Tom and myself, are much better than ‘distinctions without differences.’ Refine it away as you may, Tom’s position and mine are considerably analogous, though very unequal. As far as I can trace the foundation of your asserted difference it is first his being a ‘man,’ which difference, as I said before, I cannot recognize as radical,—secondly, that his position can only be filled by ‘a first-class man,’—and I think, allowing, of course, for very great disparity of knowledge, acquirements and requirements, the comparison holds, for it is not easy, as has been proved by the length of time the office has been vacant, to fill this Tutorship properly. I should say it is the one the College finds hardest to fill, and therefore it is (in its degree) as creditable a thing to hold as the mastership.

Thanks for your letter. I'm not sure if all my reasoning was logical—probably not—but I don't think your arguments about the relative positions of (at least) Tom and me are any better than “distinctions without differences.” No matter how you refine it, Tom’s position and mine are quite similar, even if they're very unequal. Based on what I can see as the core of your claimed difference, it starts with the fact that he's a "man," which I still can’t recognize as a fundamental distinction. Secondly, you suggest that his position can only be filled by "a first-class man," and I think, while allowing for significant differences in knowledge, skills, and requirements, the comparison stands. It hasn't been easy to find the right person to fill this Tutorship, as shown by how long the position has been vacant. I would say it’s the role that the College struggles to fill the most, and therefore, in its way, it’s as prestigious to hold as the mastership.

72Then I cannot think that you mean to urge the superior lucrativeness of his post as any argument, for the principle must be identical in receiving one penny or ‘nearer two than one thousand a year.’ Then I cannot say that I want for nothing,—I do want the money, and am quite satisfied to earn it, quite knowing that my allowance is enough. I do not really see that I am in any degree wrong, if I am it is unconsciously and honestly.

72Then I can't believe you're trying to use the higher earnings of his job as an argument, since the principle should be the same regardless of whether it’s one penny or "closer to two than one thousand a year." I can't say I want for nothing—I do want the money and I'm perfectly okay with earning it, fully aware that my allowance is sufficient. I truly don't see that I'm wrong in any way; if I am, it's completely unintentional and honest.

Well, I don’t think it is of much use to argue any more—I have told you honestly what I think.... Thank you anyhow for listening to me patiently and answering me. I do not like to vex you after all this—you have been and are very good to me. You ask me to wait a little while and consider. I have considered well, and I do not believe any further thought would alter my opinion. However I will promise you for this term only (not ceding the principle) not to take any fees, but if they come (which I do not yet know) to return them as a free gift to the College. If at the end of this term I still hold my opinion, I trust you not to oppose my determination again. Remember and understand, Daddy, I do promise this simply and only because you wish it, and not because in the least degree my mind is one whit altered on the point. I trust you to meet me half way, and not be in any degree grieved if I resume my intention next term.

Well, I don't think there's much point in arguing anymore—I’ve honestly shared my thoughts with you.... Thanks for listening patiently and for answering my questions. I don’t want to upset you after all this—you’ve been really great to me. You’ve asked me to wait a bit and think it over. I’ve thought it through, and I don’t believe any more consideration will change my view. However, I’ll promise you just for this term (without giving up my principle) not to accept any fees, and if they come (which I still don’t know), I’ll return them as a donation to the College. If by the end of this term I still feel the same way, I hope you won’t oppose my decision again. Remember, Daddy, I’m making this promise only because you asked, and not because my opinion has changed at all. I trust you’ll meet me halfway and won’t be upset if I go back to my original plan next term.

Goodbye darling,
Ever your loving child,
Sophie.”

“Saturday night. Feb. 5th 1859.

Dearest,

Dear,

... Tom’s being a man makes all the difference, he has just taken the plain path of duty. I am very pleased with the spirit in which you write, darling, but I must be sincere, which I should not be if I told you that I had the shadow of a doubt that you ought not to be a paid teacher....

... Tom’s being a man makes all the difference; he has simply taken the plain path of duty. I really appreciate the spirit in which you write, darling, but I have to be honest. I wouldn’t be sincere if I said I had the slightest doubt that you shouldn’t be a paid teacher....

Ever, dearest,
Your affect. Father,
T. Jex-Blake.”

So closes this delightful correspondence. It was not to be supposed that she should have no regrets. In her diary she says:

So this lovely correspondence comes to an end. It’s hard to believe she wouldn't have any regrets. In her diary, she writes:

“Feb. 13th.... Like a fool I have consented to give up the fees for this term only—though I am miserably poor. I am sorry. It was foolish. It only defers the struggle.”

“Feb. 13th.... Like an idiot I’ve agreed to give up the fees for this term only—even though I’m really broke. I regret it. It was stupid. It just delays the struggle.”

The Norfolk cousins were not a little impressed by the new life S. J.-B. was making for herself, though it was not to be 73expected that they should all take so enlightened a view of it as Miss Evans did.

The Norfolk cousins were quite impressed by the new life S. J.-B. was creating for herself, though it wasn’t realistic to expect that they would all share the same progressive perspective as Miss Evans.

“You seem,” writes Cousin Ellie, “to be spending rather a jolly time of it, but still it seems to me rather queer that a lot of girls should walk about London when and where they please. I don’t think you would come to any harm, but I am sure there are many that would.”

“You seem,” writes Cousin Ellie, “to be having quite a good time, but I still think it’s a bit strange that so many girls can walk around London whenever and wherever they want. I don’t think you’d get hurt, but I’m sure there are plenty who would.”

And Sarah with whom “one does not connect the idea of angel,”

And Sarah, who isn’t usually thought of as an “angel,”

“What glorious fun a girl might have if inclined, but you are as steady as a rock. No fear of my dear old man doing anything giddy. My dearest treasure, Goodnight.”

“What glorious fun a girl could have if she wanted, but you are as steady as a rock. No worries about my dear old man doing anything silly. My dearest treasure, goodnight.”

We gather from subsequent correspondence that the frivolity of this letter brought down a very severe reprimand from its recipient.

We learn from later messages that the silliness of this letter led to a harsh scolding from the person who received it.

Elinor was the first to pay a visit to the unknown world, and she writes a long account of it to the eager Sarah:

Elinor was the first to visit the unknown world, and she writes a detailed account of it to the excited Sarah:

“When I first saw her that evening, I thought she did not look so well, but since then I think the contrary—She is much thinner, but in such good spirits, and so happy. I think she quite likes everyone to know that she has been made mathematical tutor, for it is considered a great honour.”

“When I first saw her that evening, I thought she didn’t look very well, but since then I’ve changed my mind—she's a lot thinner, but in such good spirits and so happy. I think she really enjoys everyone knowing that she’s been appointed as a math tutor because it's seen as a great honor.”

S. J.-B. would fain have seen more of these delightful cousins, but their father held strict views as to the conditions under which well-born girls might visit London.

S. J.-B. would have liked to see more of these charming cousins, but their father had strict ideas about the circumstances under which well-bred girls could visit London.

“As to Ellie and Sarah,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake in one of the severe moods that had become so rare, “instead of being hurt they do not accede to all you ask, you might well be proud of their warm love. You have taken yourself out of your natural position, and you cannot understand the need for their conforming to the proprieties their Father so naturally and properly expects. Good-looking girls do not needlessly go about London without chaperons. Happily for them, their Father’s wish is sufficient to guide them. There is a respect and duty to the position, however weak and inferior you may judge a Parent to be.^[15] Well, darling, God bless and comfort you.”

“As for Ellie and Sarah,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake in one of her rare serious moods, “instead of being upset that they don’t agree with everything you want, you should be proud of their warm love. You’ve put yourself out of your usual position, and you don’t see why they need to stick to the standards their father naturally and rightfully expects. Good-looking girls shouldn’t wander around London without chaperones. Fortunately for them, their father’s wishes are enough to guide them. There is respect and duty to the position, no matter how weak or inferior you might think a parent is.^[15] Well, darling, God bless and comfort you.”

Yet, judged by present-day standards, S. J.-B. would not have been considered deficient in the spirit of compromise. 74Her letters to her Father on the subject of tutor’s fees is evidence enough on that score, and those letters are in no way at variance with her whole attitude.

Yet, if we look at it by today's standards, S. J.-B. wouldn’t have been seen as lacking in the spirit of compromise. 74Her letters to her father about the tutor’s fees clearly show this, and those letters align perfectly with her overall attitude.

“A triumph as to life!” she records in her diary. “Last Monday told Mummy of my not going to the Opera without telling her, but proclaimed my intention in the future. No interdiction. So I talked a little about it to make all my ground sure, and coming back on Tuesday found them going to Macbeth, Friday, and yesterday told Mummy as a matter of course. She acquiesced if not consented, and was glad we had so nice a party and hoped I shall not go often, so entirely removing all interdiction....

“A triumph in terms of life!” she writes in her diary. “Last Monday, I told Mummy that I went to the Opera without informing her but stated my intention to do so in the future. No restrictions. So, I discussed it a bit to ensure my position, and when I returned on Tuesday, I found out they were going to see Macbeth on Friday. Yesterday, I mentioned it to Mummy casually. She accepted it, if not fully agreed, and was happy we had such a nice group, hoping I won't go often, which completely lifted any restrictions....

Well, as to the Theatre! I believe I must confess myself disappointed. Charles Kean as Macbeth did not satisfy me. Mrs. C. Kean very good (I suppose) as Lady Macbeth. Yet not real, as Shakespeare surely should be. After the murder of Duncan was perhaps the grandest, most awful, most real.... The scene where Macduff learns his loss more real than most. The fighting at the end ludicrous.... I thought there would be decent fencing.”

Well, about the theater! I have to admit I’m disappointed. Charles Kean as Macbeth didn’t do it for me. Mrs. C. Kean was pretty good, I suppose, as Lady Macbeth. But it didn’t feel real, like Shakespeare should be. The scene after Duncan’s murder was probably the most grand, terrifying, and real.... The moment when Macduff finds out about his loss felt more real than most things. The fighting at the end was ridiculous.... I expected decent fencing.

A few months later she went (with Miss Wodehouse) to a ritualistic church, and was moved to hot indignation.

A few months later, she went to a ritualistic church with Miss Wodehouse and was filled with intense anger.

“How can this man wear a priestly robe in the Church, and subscribe to her 6th and 20th most scriptural articles? Well, indeed, might we pray for the state of the Church Militant, when within her walls are such teachers.

“How can this man wear a priest's robe in the Church and agree with her 6th and 20th most scriptural articles? Truly, we should pray for the state of the Church Militant when such teachers are found within her walls.”

Yet was I right in not staying the sacrament because this sermon so stirred my indignation? ‘The unworthiness of ministers hinders not the effect of the Sacrament.’ Perhaps I was wrong. Yet I could not have stayed in a peaceful or holy mind.

Yet was I right in not participating in the sacrament because this sermon stirred my anger? ‘The unworthiness of ministers doesn’t affect the impact of the Sacrament.’ Maybe I was wrong. Still, I couldn’t have stayed in a peaceful or holy state of mind.

To the law and to the testimony! How precious is such unanswerable decree!—so final a court of appeal!”

To the law and to the testimony! How valuable is such an undeniable decree!—such a conclusive court of appeal!”

A note is inserted in the margin,—(“This May 1859. Sic transit! Feb. 11, 1865!”1865!”).

A note is inserted in the margin,—(“This May 1859. So it goes! Feb. 11, 1865!1865!”).

Meanwhile her certificate examination was drawing near, and mathematics absorbed most of her thoughts. On July 1st she writes:

Meanwhile, her certificate exam was approaching, and math took up most of her thoughts. On July 1st, she writes:

“Certificate examination nearly 4 hours. Out of 23 problems did 20½. So I trust I am pretty safe. I did get rather frightened as the time drew on, but really have worked hard and I trust won. Sent a telegram, ‘Success’ to Mother, though the declaration is not yet made.

“Certificate exam lasted almost 4 hours. Out of 23 problems, I solved 20½. So I believe I'm pretty safe. I did get a bit scared as time ran out, but I’ve really worked hard and I hope I won. I sent a telegram saying ‘Success’ to Mom, even though the results aren’t official yet.”

July 28th. My certificate won triumphantly and marked, ‘with great credit’.”

July 28th. My certificate was awarded triumphantly and marked, ‘with great credit.’

75Of course she was working too hard.

75Of course, she was working way too hard.

“I have a great deal of work in College,” she confesses some time later. I take 8 classes,—English Literature, English History, Mental and Moral Philosophy, Theology, Church History, Algebra, Geometry, and German Conversation; and have 7 pupils. I am afraid it is too much altogether.”

“I have a lot of work in college,” she admits after a while. I’m taking 8 classes—English Literature, English History, Mental and Moral Philosophy, Theology, Church History, Algebra, Geometry, and German Conversation; and I have 7 students. I’m worried it’s too much altogether.”

And what about the ordinary traditional preoccupations and vanities of a young girl’s life in the midst of these manifold interests and claims?—what about thoughts of dress, of personal appearance, of love and marriage? Well, obviously there was little room left for any of these. S. J.-B. was under the impression that she cared a good deal about dress, and she would not have been flattered if anyone had expressed a different opinion. As a matter of fact she never had time to give the subject much more than a passing thought, and the poor little remnant of an allowance that remained when more pressing claims and numerous little charities had been met, was barely sufficient to pay for the work of an ordinary seamstress. The adaptable coat and skirt, and the endless variety of cheap ready-made dress had not then come to the aid of the educated working-girl, and S. J.-B. did not realize the difficulty of the problem she had to tackle.

And what about the usual concerns and worries of a young girl's life amid these many interests and demands?—what about thoughts of clothing, personal appearance, love, and relationships? Well, clearly there was little time left for any of these. S. J.-B. thought she cared a lot about fashion, and she wouldn’t have been pleased if anyone suggested otherwise. In reality, she never had the time to think about it much beyond a fleeting consideration, and the meager amount of her allowance that was left after more urgent expenses and various small charitable contributions was barely enough to pay for a regular seamstress's work. The versatile coat and skirt, along with the endless options of inexpensive ready-made dresses, hadn’t yet come to the rescue of the educated working girl, and S. J.-B. didn’t grasp the challenge she faced.

“I should like to see your muslin at 3s. 6d. before I got one,” writes honest Ellie. “You know you are the last person in the world I should copy in dress, or who I would trust to get one for me, for it is the only thing almost you know nothing about, and you have very peculiar, and, I think, generally bad taste.”

“I'd like to see your muslin at 3s. 6d. before I get one,” writes honest Ellie. “You know you’re the last person I would copy in style, or who I’d trust to get one for me, because it’s the only thing you really know nothing about, and you have very peculiar, and I think, generally bad taste.”

The letter may have been written in a moment of irritation about something else, or indeed about this very subject of dress, for young folks are sensitive as to the appearance of their valued friends; but it certainly contained more than a germ of truth. Fortunately youth and a radiant personality cover a multitude of shortcomings in this respect, and contemporary correspondence often points to the extent to which the Almighty had “favoured” S. J.-B. “in person as well as in mind.” In this connection there is an interesting letter of this period from an old schoolfellow, the daughter of a former schoolmistress. After a graphic account of a lecture 76by Thackeray, at which the writer had the good fortune to be present, she says:

The letter might have been written in a moment of frustration about something else, or even about the topic of clothing, since young people are often concerned about how their valued friends look. However, it definitely held more than a hint of truth. Luckily, youth and a vibrant personality can mask a lot of flaws in this area, and modern letters frequently highlight how much the Almighty had “blessed” S. J.-B. “in looks as well as in intellect.” In this context, there’s an interesting letter from that time written by an old schoolmate, the daughter of a former teacher. After describing a lecture by Thackeray, which she had the good fortune to attend, she says:

“In face Thackeray is the image of—whom, do you think? Guess. Someone you know,—of yourself. Yes, indeed, of you, Sophy Blake. Mama and I were both struck, almost startled, by the resemblance.”

“In person, Thackeray looks like—who do you think? Take a guess. Someone you know—yourself. Yes, really, it’s you, Sophy Blake. Mom and I were both taken aback, almost shocked, by the similarity.”

It happened by a curious coincidence some years later that Laurence was taking S. J.-B.’s portrait not very long after he had taken Thackeray’s, and he expressed himself as greatly struck by the similarity of the lines in the two faces. S. J.-B.’s magnificent, speaking brown eyes, however, were hers alone. “If they were taken out and laid on a plate,” said a forcible young friend, “they would still be beautiful!”

It was a strange coincidence a few years later when Laurence was photographing S. J.-B. shortly after he had taken Thackeray’s portrait. He remarked on how similar the lines on both faces were. However, S. J.-B.’s beautiful, expressive brown eyes were uniquely hers. “If you put them on a plate,” said a bold young friend, “they’d still be stunning!”

As regards love and marriage, one can only say that, for a girl in the middle of the last century she thought of them surprisingly little. She speaks occasionally of her own marriage as if it were as much a matter of course as her coming of age, and, after enjoying some pleasant boy-and-girl intercourse with an unknown “H.” at the house of her cousins, she describes him as “the sort of man I may probably marry in the end.” Visiting a newly-married girl cousin, she frankly admits the charm of the comradeship, for indeed, as a friend said of her (with more truth than elegance of diction) a few years later than the point we have reached: “You have taken on you a hard, hard vocation from your youngest days,—and yet it is scarcely so hard for anyone in the world to stand alone.”

When it comes to love and marriage, it's surprising how little a girl from the middle of the last century thought about them. She occasionally mentions her own marriage as if it were just as natural as her coming of age, and after having some enjoyable interactions with an unknown “H.” at her cousins' house, she describes him as “the kind of guy I might end up marrying.” When visiting her newly-married girl cousin, she openly acknowledges the appeal of the companionship, because, as a friend remarked a few years later, “You’ve taken on a tough, tough path from a young age—and yet, it’s not nearly as hard for anyone in the world to be on their own.”

In any case S. J.-B. went straight on her course, like many of the finest girls of our own day, without giving any thought to cross currents that might alter the course of her life. And indeed her daily life was absorbing enough. It is scarcely surprising if, among her many interests, her religious life was somewhat smothered for the time, or that, at least she thought so.

In any case, S. J.-B. kept moving forward on her path, like many of the best girls today, without considering any distractions that might change her life's direction. And her daily life was busy enough. It's not surprising that, among her many interests, her religious life was somewhat neglected for a while, or at least she thought so.

“Mrs. Thornton called my doing what I had done ‘noble’. Yes, if for His sake, but, alas, much more—altogether—for my own. Yet my loving the work is no disqualification for doing it for Him. I trust I do do good a little. Surely honest intellectual help is something, 77if of lower class.... I have thought—I cannot take more work, Sunday School, etc., but what I do is good in its degree; if done in His name, surely He will accept it.”

“Mrs. Thornton said that what I did was ‘noble.’ Yes, if it’s for His sake, but unfortunately, it’s mostly—completely—for my own benefit. Still, my love for the work doesn’t disqualify me from doing it for Him. I hope I’m doing some good, even if it’s just a little. Honest intellectual support is valuable, 77 even if it’s lower class... I’ve considered—I can’t take on more work, like Sunday School, etc., but what I do is good in its own way; if done in His name, surely He will accept it.”

More and more, as she looked back on her own school life from the vantage-ground of a year at Queen’s College, she felt how much the education of girls might be improved. On the last night of the year she writes:

More and more, as she reflected on her school life from the perspective of a year at Queen’s College, she realized how much better girls' education could be. On the last night of the year, she writes:

“In this year my idea of work in the cause of education has developed itself into that of a resident College of the Holy Trinity. Heaven knows if ever to be carried out. If good,—yes, doubtless,—if not, God will raise up better. Little ‘religious’ as I fear I am, I do feel this thoroughly....

“In this year, my vision for contributing to education has evolved into that of a resident College of the Holy Trinity. God knows if it will ever come to fruition. If it’s good—yes, surely—but if not, God will bring forth something better. As little ‘religious’ as I worry I am, I genuinely feel this strongly....”

‘And may the New Year cherish

All the hopes that now are bright.’

Such a happy loving Goodnight to and from Daddy and Mummy. Very happy I am tonight.

Such a happy, loving goodnight to and from Dad and Mom. I'm really happy tonight.

‘And once more ere thou perish,

Old Year, Good night! Good night!’”

CHAPTER VII
FRIENDSHIP

The great remain children to the last, and in this respect S. J.-B. was essentially one of the great. To the end of her life, for those who knew her well, she could be a delightful child. But it was about the time we are considering—the age of 20 to 21—that she may be said to have become a woman, or, more truly, to have put on her manhood. She was too busy at the time to describe or analyze in her diary the change that was taking place—“Oh,” she says, “the little space of time and paper! The mighty space of events ‘unheard’!”—she was in no way self-conscious about it; but there are indications, like straws on the surface of the water, that show in what direction the current was setting. One sees that she was beginning to look at life freshly and at first hand, that the old traditional dogmatism was falling away from her views of religion, of social questions, of the relation between the sexes. To be sure this old husk was being replaced by the even more acrid dogmatism of youth; but in that very acridity one feels the promise of growth, of the ripe wisdom of later years.

The great remain children until the end, and in this way, S. J.-B. was truly one of the great. Up until her last days, for those who knew her well, she could still be a delightful child. But around the age of 20 to 21, she could be said to have become a woman, or more accurately, to have embraced her maturity. She was too preoccupied at the time to write about or analyze the change happening within her—“Oh,” she says, “the little space of time and paper! The mighty space of events ‘unheard’!”—she wasn’t self-conscious about it at all; but there are signs, like ripples on the surface of the water, that indicate which way the current was flowing. It’s clear that she was starting to see life in a new and direct way, that the old traditional beliefs were loosening their grip on her views about religion, social issues, and gender relations. Of course, this old shell was being replaced by the even more intense beliefs of youth; yet within that intensity, there lies a promise of growth, of the mature wisdom that comes later.

As far back as March 1859 one finds the following significant passage:

As early as March 1859, there is a notable passage:

“Had a long argument with Miss Wodehouse today. Two points chiefly. 1. Are evil deeds, though always pernicious to the doer, sometimes beneficial to mankind? I affirming: she denying. 2. Is it our first duty to seek our own salvation? She denying.

“Had a long argument with Miss Wodehouse today. Two main points. 1. Are evil deeds, while always harmful to the doer, sometimes beneficial to humanity? I say yes; she says no. 2. Is our first duty to seek our own salvation? She says no.”

I cannot tell why I am so unable to argue with her. She seems to get me into a maze. Yet I think she argues honestly. I sometimes 79shrink from ‘sacred’ subjects with her, yet she considers all equally sacred.

I can't explain why I struggle to argue with her. She somehow gets me tangled up. Still, I believe she's arguing in good faith. There are times when I hesitate to discuss ‘sacred’ topics with her, but she sees all topics as equally sacred. 79

‘What is truth’ indeed? Yet am I not somewhat like ‘jesting Pilate’ who ‘would not stay for an answer’?”

‘What is truth’ really? But am I not a bit like ‘jesting Pilate’ who ‘would not wait for an answer’?”

“What is truth?” one finds her asking again and again, and she at least had one grand qualification for the search,—the habit of treating truth with respect even in its humblest fragments.

“What is truth?” one finds her asking over and over, and she at least had one great qualification for the search—the habit of respecting truth even in its smallest pieces.

Her Father, of course, was uneasy about her.

Her father was, of course, worried about her.

“I should like to see you much,” he writes, “but I feel that Sunday would be a heavy day for you here (as I don’t frequent popish mass houses or the like), so that if you could run down here on Monday evening....”

“I would really like to see you a lot,” he writes, “but I think Sunday would be a tough day for you here (since I don’t usually go to Catholic masses or anything like that), so if you could come down here on Monday evening....”

And again:

“When I think of the (at best) half teaching you have, but that I confide in our gracious covenant head, I should tremble for you when I am gone. I have no doubt at all that Maurice is a most amiable man, but I believe that to this hour he has never come clear out of Unitarianism, and therefore does not see distinctly, nor, of course, teach scripturally, any one of those fundamental Christian truths (all connected together) original sin, Christ’s vicarious work atoning for sin and fulfiling the law, justification by faith, and salvation by grace. Read, darling, ...”

“When I think about the (at best) minimal teaching you’ve received, but I trust in our gracious covenant leader, I should feel worried for you when I’m gone. I have no doubt that Maurice is a really kind man, but I believe that to this day he hasn’t fully moved away from Unitarianism, and so he doesn’t see clearly, nor, of course, teach scripturally, any of those basic Christian truths (all interconnected): original sin, Christ’s sacrificial work to atone for sin and fulfill the law, justification by faith, and salvation by grace. Read, darling, ...”

The following “passage of arms” with a Norfolk cousin, a man some years older than herself, is interesting in this connection:

The following "passage of arms" with a cousin from Norfolk, a man a few years older than her, is interesting in this context:

“Hastings, March 12/60.

My dear Sophy,

My dear Sophy

I left Brighton on Friday with something of a heavy heart. I saw I had grieved you where I had really no intention of doing so: that was painful to me and I must regret it. I express to you my strong regrets. But oh! tenthousandfold deeper was the sad conviction forced upon me, that the advance you have made,—shall I vex you if I say honestly and openly,—Romewards, since I last saw you was very great. I believe you are as yet unconscious of your own tendency. I told you so at Lyng. But in honesty I must tell you, my dear Sophy, I tremble for you. It is such awfully slippery ground. It is such a pleasant accommodation of religion to our fallen nature. It so feeds our impulsiveness and fortifies our natural religionism.

I left Brighton on Friday feeling quite sad. I realized that I had upset you when I didn't mean to, and that really hurt me, so I want to apologize. I'm truly sorry about that. But what hurt even more was the painful realization that you’ve made significant progress—if I may be honest and straightforward—towards Rome since the last time I saw you. I think you might not even be aware of this shift in yourself. I mentioned it to you at Lyng. But I have to be honest, my dear Sophy: I worry for you. It’s such dangerously slippery ground. It's too easy to align religion with our flawed nature. It just encourages our impulsiveness and strengthens our natural religious instincts.

Will you forgive me if, with a cousin’s, I hope more than that, 80anxious love I beseech you to ‘consider your ways,’ and bring your soul before God in this matter. Pray don’t starve your soul on gilded husks while bread lies at your feet in your Father’s house.

Will you forgive me if, as a cousin, I hope for more than that, 80anxious love I ask you to ‘think about your choices,’ and bring your soul before God in this matter. Please don’t starve your soul on shiny distractions while real sustenance is at your feet in your Father’s house.

I know more than one amiable creature who began as you have done, and has landed in Rome....

I know more than one friendly person who started like you have and ended up in Rome....

Dear Sophy, don’t trust your head, much less your heart, much less any fallen man or imperfect church under the sun. Trust Jesus, Jesus only, Jesus wholly, Jesus exclusively.

Dear Sophy, don’t trust your head, even less your heart, and definitely not any flawed man or imperfect church out there. Trust Jesus, Jesus only, Jesus wholly, Jesus exclusively.

I trust this note will not make you wrath against me.... Be sure of one thing, I banter no more, where feeling is evidently so deep. Henceforth I will try and pray fervently for your poor soul’s conversion to God.”

I hope this message doesn't make you angry with me. Just know that I’m not joking anymore, since it’s clear how deep your feelings are. From now on, I will try hard and pray sincerely for your soul’s conversion to God.

“March 14th./60.

My dear ...

If I do not say that you have written me a most ridiculous letter, it will be more from respect to its motive than its matter,—or purport. I know people can work themselves up to any exaggerated view of things, yet I can hardly believe that, if you have half the sense people say you have, you can on sober reconsideration really believe that there was the smallest ground for your tirade in my objection to hear a Church—a house of God at least, spoken of and criticised as if it were a right thing to visit it as you would a theatre, and remain a looker-on while others were worshipping. ‘Seeking occasion against’ men was not the characteristic of the followers of the Jesus whose name you reiterate so often. I believe this was the whole feeling with which I spoke, exactly as I should have done if it had been a Baptist Meeting-house you were commenting on,—as I believe you would not have commented on a Baptist Meeting-house.

If I don’t say that your letter is completely ridiculous, it’s more out of respect for its intent than its content. I know people can get worked up about things in an exaggerated way, but I can hardly believe that, if you have even half the sense people say you do, you actually think there was any valid reason for your outburst about my objection to hearing a church—a house of God, at least—talked about and criticized as if it were normal to visit it like a theater and just watch while others worship. 'Looking for reasons to criticize' wasn’t the attitude of the followers of Jesus, whose name you mention so often. That was the exact feeling I had when I spoke, just as I would have if you had been commenting on a Baptist meeting house—though I believe you wouldn’t have commented on a Baptist meeting house at all.

You may, if you please, take my word for it that I am not going over to Rome, among whose partisans, however, I must say that I have never—no, nor I think from any other denomination under the sun—heard the same virulent abuse of those who have at least ‘one Lord,’ if not ‘one faith and one baptism,’—that I have from the Puritan portion of our own Church: and I am sure no God and no Church was ever served by the one or the other....

You can take my word for it that I am not converting to Rome. However, I must say that I have never heard such intense criticism of those who have at least ‘one Lord,’ if not ‘one faith and one baptism,’ from any other group as I have from the Puritan section of our own Church. I'm certain that neither God nor any Church would ever be served by either side....

What I have written is probably ill conceived and worse expressed. Excuse all such deficiencies. If I have myself fallen into the error I protest against, I need more than excuse—forgiveness. I have not meant to be violent or uncourteous, but where I have felt strongly, I doubt not I have so spoken.

What I've written is likely poorly thought out and even worse articulated. Please excuse any shortcomings. If I've made the mistake I criticize, I need more than just an excuse—I need forgiveness. I didn't intend to be harsh or rude, but where I felt strongly, I'm sure I expressed myself that way.

For your cousinly care and affection I thank you heartily, as I am ever

For all the care and love you’ve shown me as my cousin, I truly appreciate it, as I always do.

Your affectionate cousin,

S. L. J.-B.”

81And not only in matters of thought and principle was she developing; she was beginning, too, to take her full share of responsibility as regards her fellow-creatures, entering into the meaning of brotherhood and citizenship. In addition to her work at Queen’s College, she undertook to teach bookkeeping gratuitously in connection with the Society for the Employment of Women, and had a class of children at Great Ormond Street. “I don’t know how I should like her,” said a candid critic, “but it is a pleasure to see anyone do anything so well as she does teach.”

81Not only in her thoughts and values was she growing; she was also starting to take on her full share of responsibility towards others, understanding the meaning of community and citizenship. Alongside her work at Queen’s College, she volunteered to teach bookkeeping for free with the Society for the Employment of Women and had a class of children at Great Ormond Street. “I’m not sure how I feel about her,” said an honest critic, “but it’s a joy to see anyone teach as well as she does.”

Reference was made in a former chapter to her faculty for taking the side-issues of life too intensely. It may not be right to look on friendship as a side-issue—though many of the world’s workers are more or less forced so to regard it: in any case it is scarcely too much to say that—even when one takes into account the endless philanthropic interests and activities of her later years—friendship constituted for S. J.-B. the main work of life. If she had been paid for the sheer hard work she did simply as a friend, she would have been a very rich woman. She was always giving out, and from this time forward, she acted on the maxim, “Bis dat qui cito dat.” If she arrived home, dead-tired, to find a letter asking immediate advice or help, she would answer the letter then and there and carry her answer to the post. If a friend was passing through London, or coming to spend a few hours with her, she would piece out a laborious journey by bus between her classes to meet that friend at some far-off station and make things easy for her. If a fellow-student or a teacher seemed on the point of breaking down, S. J.-B. would write three or four letters and call on half-a-dozen people to arrange for a holiday, and, if necessary, for a substitute. “Then home very tired,” she writes to her Mother after such an experience, “but very content to write this account to you.” (As not infrequently happened, the invalid had found a refuge at 13 Sussex Square, and Mrs. Jex-Blake’s kind heart was set on an extension of the holiday.)

Reference was made in an earlier chapter to her tendency to take the side-issues of life too seriously. It might not be fair to view friendship as a side-issue—although many of the world's workers are somewhat forced to see it that way: in any case, it’s hardly an exaggeration to say that—even considering the countless philanthropic interests and activities she engaged in later—friendship was the main focus of S. J.-B.’s life. If she had been compensated for the hard work she did purely as a friend, she would have been quite wealthy. She was always giving of herself, and from that point forward, she embraced the saying, “A gift given quickly is a gift given well..” If she got home, completely exhausted, to find a letter asking for immediate advice or help, she would respond right away and take her answer straight to the post. If a friend was passing through London or was coming to spend a few hours with her, she would go through a lengthy bus ride between her classes to meet that friend at a distant station and make things easier for her. If a fellow student or teacher seemed like they were on the verge of breaking down, S. J.-B. would write three or four letters and contact half a dozen people to arrange for a vacation and, if necessary, a substitute. “Then home very tired,” she writes to her mother after one such experience, “but very content to write this account to you.” (As often happened, the person in need had found refuge at 13 Sussex Square, and Mrs. Jex-Blake was eager to extend the holiday.)

“I do not think I ever did so good a Lord’s Day work in my life,—if, that is, it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath Day,—to save life, not to kill,—or let kill. I think I am very like a life-boat,—valueless 82in itself, yet useful enough in saving better things alive. That, indeed, its whole use and work.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done such good work on a Sunday in my life—if it’s even okay to do good on the Sabbath—helping to save lives, not to take them, or let them be taken. I really feel like a lifeboat—worthless on its own, but valuable for saving more precious lives. That’s truly its entire purpose and mission.”

“I am sure all that driving and running about with me on Thursday made your eye and headache much worse,” writes Cousin Sarah, “but you are such a dear kind old pet,—would half kill yourself for anybody.”

“I’m sure all that driving and running around with me on Thursday made your eye and headache a lot worse,” writes Cousin Sarah, “but you’re such a sweet, kind old dear—you would go to great lengths for anyone.”

A former school friend writes at the same date:

A former school friend writes on the same date:

“I feel I ought not to trouble you, occupied as you are, but, whenever I have asked you for anything, your kindness and sympathy have been so readily given that I always think of you when I hear of any wants.”

“I don’t want to bother you since you’re so busy, but every time I’ve needed something, you’ve been so kind and supportive that I always think of you when I hear about any needs.”

“Mama sends her very best love,” writes Miss M. J. Evans, “and Papa too. Oddly enough, both like you. How can they?—such a trumpery heartless girl!”

“Mama sends her love,” writes Miss M. J. Evans, “and so does Papa. Strangely enough, both of them like you. How can they?—such a silly heartless girl!”

And one comes upon hundreds of tributes to the same effect.

And you come across hundreds of tributes to the same idea.

Sometimes S. J.-B.’s willing assistance was of a kind that involved no small labour and anxiety. If a friend was shy and gifted and poor, capable of producing work not yet recognized as marketable, S. J.-B. was always ready to be the middleman. She would write round to well-to-do friends enlisting their interest, do up samples of the work for inspection, and (most serious of all!) undertake the responsibility of receiving the samples safe back again. “Put the responsibility on me,” she used to say cheerily in after life, “my shoulders are broad enough”; and there is no doubt she began to say this—if not in so many words—before the age of 20. People got into the way of trusting her to see a thing through, of assuming that it was her métier to be competent and to organize, of leaving to her the heavy end of the stick: and no doubt she enjoyed it all and learned much from it, though, when taken in addition to her regular work, it was terribly hard on her hasty temper and “irritable brain.”

Sometimes S. J.-B.'s willingness to help came with a lot of work and stress. If a friend was shy, talented, and struggling financially, but had potential work that wasn’t yet considered marketable, S. J.-B. would always step in as the middleman. She would reach out to her wealthier friends to pique their interest, prepare samples of the work for them to look at, and (most importantly!) take on the responsibility of making sure the samples were returned safely. “Put the responsibility on me,” she would cheerfully say later in life, “my shoulders are broad enough”; and there’s no doubt she started saying this—if not exactly like that—before she turned 20. People began to rely on her to get things done, assuming it was her role to be capable and organize, leaving her with the bulk of the hard work: and she likely enjoyed it all and learned a lot from it, even though, when combined with her regular workload, it was incredibly tough on her quick temper and “sensitive mind.”

“You must be very thankful to be a medium of helping so many,” writes her Mother,—“a great honour, I consider it, pleasure without alloy.” But in the same letter she says, “Sad, sad weather for you to knock about in. Darling, don’t risk your health.”

“You must be really grateful to be a way of helping so many,” writes her mom, “it’s a great honor, pure pleasure.” But in the same letter she adds, “Such sad, gloomy weather for you to be out in. Sweetheart, please don’t jeopardize your health.”

“I would not and could not speak” (after parting from you), writes Ellie. “I wish I was not such a silly fool, but I could not 83help it and never can, if I have to leave you.... I wonder if you have wished for me, if it was only to scold and fight with; but what I wish most of all is that you would give up fighting. I would do anything for you if I could only make even a slight alteration.... I do with all my heart wish that you would try to keep in that temper of yours.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to speak” (after saying goodbye to you), writes Ellie. “I wish I wasn’t such a silly fool, but I just can’t help it and never will, especially if I have to leave you.... I wonder if you’ve missed me, even if it was just to argue and fight; but what I want most is for you to stop fighting. I would do anything for you if I could just make even a small change.... I really wish you would try to manage that temper of yours.”

Noble Ellie!—“Walks upright beside me, a companion, a guide, and gives me a hand.”

Noble Ellie!—“Walks straight next to me, a friend, a guide, and lends me a hand.”

S. J.-B. rarely, if ever, expected her friends to do her the same kind of service; but, if they became very dear, she did demand—more or less unconsciously to herself—a definite quid pro quo. In her big masterful way she would proceed to absorb their lives into her own; to establish a subtle growing claim that was not easy to resist. She was splendidly loyal herself, and the loyalty she exacted in return, though at first glance an easier thing, involved more than she was in any degree aware of. As life went on people found it increasingly difficult to disagree with her: many simply ran away—se sauvaient, as the French say; and yet it was only when in the last resort one resisted her to the face for conscience sake in some matter very dear to her heart,—that one really gauged the greatness of her nature.

S. J.-B. rarely, if ever, expected her friends to offer her the same kind of support; however, if they became very close, she did—more or less unconsciously—demand a definite something for something. In her big, commanding way, she would start to absorb their lives into her own, creating a subtle but growing claim that was hard to resist. She was wonderfully loyal herself, and the loyalty she required in return, although it seemed easier at first glance, involved more than she realized. As time went on, people found it increasingly hard to disagree with her: many simply ran away—were escaping, as the French say; but it was only when someone stood up to her for the sake of their conscience over something very dear to her heart that they truly understood the depth of her character.

All this is taking us somewhat ahead of the early friendships at Queen’s, but the frank recognition of this aspect of her character is essential to an adequate understanding of her life even in those days. A Queen’s College friend who, in the most admirable and magnanimous spirit had accepted what might be reckoned a heavy obligation to S. J.-B. and her Father, writes as follows:

All this is moving us a bit beyond the early friendships at Queen’s, but honestly acknowledging this part of her character is crucial for fully understanding her life even back then. A friend from Queen’s College, who admirably and generously took on what could be seen as a significant responsibility for S. J.-B. and her father, writes this:

“I wish to tell you (I could not before, but think it right now) that this ... will be more of a personal advantage and enjoyment to me than anything else in the world....

“I want to tell you (I couldn't before, but I feel it's right now) that this ... will bring me more personal benefit and enjoyment than anything else in the world....

With all my heart I rejoice to acknowledge an immense obligation to you for your love to me at all times and for this particular way of showing it, but not that sort of obligation which shall in any way affect my words and doings with you for the future.”

With all my heart, I am truly grateful for your love at all times and for this specific way of showing it. However, I want to be clear that this will not influence my words and actions with you moving forward.

If friendships are to be weighed, not counted, S. J.-B. was, even at this period, fortunate in her possession of them. The Norfolk cousins, the Cordery family, Miss Wodehouse, 84Miss Ada Benson, Miss Lucy Walker (afterwards Mrs. Unwin) who was her junior at Queen’s, Miss Martha Heaton (Mrs. Hilhouse) a fellow teacher,—are the names that occur to one most readily. And at this time there came into her life a friendship that was destined to make a deeper impression on her than any of these,—the deepest impression, in fact, of any in the whole of her life.

If friendships are measured by their quality rather than quantity, S. J.-B. was, even at this time, lucky to have them. The Norfolk cousins, the Cordery family, Miss Wodehouse, 84 Miss Ada Benson, and Miss Lucy Walker (who later became Mrs. Unwin) were younger than her at Queen’s, and Miss Martha Heaton (Mrs. Hilhouse), a fellow teacher—these are the names that come to mind most easily. During this time, a friendship entered her life that would leave a deeper mark on her than any of these—the most profound impact of any in her entire life.

This is how it began:

This is how it started:

“Jan. 26th. 1860. Just had a lesson in book-keeping from Miss [Octavia] Hill. Clever, pleasant girl,—much nicer than I thought. Dined with me. What and how the deuce am I to pay her? £1 1s., I suppose. Dear old Patty Heaton! How fond I am of her, and what wonderfully good friends we are!”

“Jan. 26th. 1860. Just had a bookkeeping lesson from Miss [Octavia] Hill. She's a smart, nice girl—way better than I expected. She had dinner with me. How the heck am I supposed to pay her? £1 1s., I guess. Dear old Patty Heaton! I'm so fond of her, and we're such great friends!”

“Jan. 27th. I am sure I am a good companion for her (Miss Heaton) if only in amusing her. I think laughing does her a deal of good—hearty fun. I rejoice in her exceedingly. And I hope for another sort of friend, or ally at least, in Miss Hill who came and taught me book-keeping yesterday evening. Nice, sensible, clever. Very good worker, I expect.”

“Jan. 27th. I’m sure I’m a great companion for her (Miss Heaton) just by making her laugh. I think a good laugh does her a lot of good—like, real fun. I’m really happy for her. I’m also hoping to find another kind of friend, or at least an ally, in Miss Hill, who came over and taught me bookkeeping last night. She’s nice, sensible, and smart. I expect she’s a really good worker.”

In the published Life of Miss Octavia Hill, one cannot but observe how good this dawning friendship was for her also, how beneficient was the sunshine that it brought into her somewhat grey young life. On Feb. 5th, 1860, she writes to her sister:

In the published Life of Miss Octavia Hill, you can't help but notice how positive this new friendship was for her, how much it brightened her somewhat dull young life. On February 5th, 1860, she writes to her sister:

“I am always thinking of you both, and longing to have you home again that you may really know all our doings and lives. Mine lately you would assuredly consider rather of the dissipated kind. I have been giving some book-keeping lessons to Miss J.-B. She is a bright, spirited, brave, generous young lady, living alone, in true bachelor style. It took me three nights to teach her, and she begged me to come to dinner each time. She has a friend who is killing herself by hard work to support her younger sisters. I gather she would gladly give her friend help, for she speaks most sadly of the ‘modern fallacy’ ‘that the money must be earned.’ She thinks it might be given when people are dear friends: she says they’ve given the most precious thing and what difference can a little money make?”^[16]

“I’m always thinking of you both and really missing you at home so you can know everything we’ve been up to. Lately, you’d probably think my life has been a bit wild. I’ve been giving some bookkeeping lessons to Miss J.-B. She’s a bright, spirited, brave, and generous young woman living on her own, in true bachelor style. It took me three nights to teach her, and she insisted I stay for dinner each time. She has a friend who is working herself to the bone to support her younger sisters. I get the sense she’d love to help her friend, as she talks sadly about the ‘modern fallacy’ that ‘money must be earned.’ She believes it should be given when people are good friends, saying they’ve already offered the most valuable things, so what difference does a little money make?”^[16]

Almost from the first Miss Hill’s letters to S. J.-B. took a serious tone. On March 18th she writes:

Almost from the beginning, Miss Hill’s letters to S. J.-B. took on a serious tone. On March 18th she writes:

“I wonder whether you will think me very impertinent if I say that I wonder you don’t see that, in turning away from so many 85important thoughts with a half joke, you are refusing God’s means of grace as much as in staying away from ordained services. It is no good my writing sermons, however.... I trust to live to see some one or some sorrow do for you what I cannot, to see such a peace as ‘passeth all understanding’ come over you, to see the thankful, perfect dedication of all your powers to His service for His sake....

“I wonder if you’ll think I’m very rude for saying this, but I can't help but notice that by brushing off so many important thoughts with a half-hearted joke, you’re rejecting God’s grace just as much as if you were skipping out on church services. Writing sermons won’t help me reach you, though.... I hope to live long enough to see someone or some sorrow bring you what I can't, to witness a peace that ‘passes all understanding’ wash over you, and to see you fully dedicate all your abilities to His service for His sake....

I too long for a nice quiet talk with you. I enjoy it so, and your magnificent energy does me such good.”

I also crave a nice, quiet conversation with you. I enjoy it so much, and your amazing energy really lifts me up.

The talks were not always quiet. There are those still living who remember some animated discussions, for the two girls had stepped, as it were, out of totally different worlds. Here is a typical passage:

The conversations weren’t always calm. There are still people around who remember some lively debates, since the two girls came from completely different backgrounds. Here’s a typical excerpt:

S. J.-B. (hotly), “I never heard the game laws attacked!”

S. J.-B. (angrily), “I’ve never heard anyone criticize the game laws!”

O. H. (calmly), “I never heard them defended!”

O. H. (calmly), “I never heard anyone defend them!”

In the Easter holidays of that year both Miss Heaton and Miss Hill were guests at 13 Sussex Square, and the friendship between the latter and S. J.-B. was greatly deepened.

During the Easter holidays that year, both Miss Heaton and Miss Hill were staying at 13 Sussex Square, and the friendship between Miss Hill and S. J.-B. grew much closer.

“My dear loving strong child,” writes S. J.-B. in her diary after this visit. “I do love and reverence her.... Had a loving solemn letter (not altogether pleasing to me) on my telling her we had had a ‘row’ [at home]. Told her by return ‘Hang you,’ and bade her remember she was neither nurse nor parson.

“My dear loving strong child,” writes S. J.-B. in her diary after this visit. “I do love and respect her.... I received a heartfelt but somewhat frustrating letter after I mentioned that we had a ‘row’ [at home]. I replied, ‘Forget you,’ and reminded her that she was neither a nurse nor a minister.

Dear, dear child, though. Mother calls it beautiful letter.”

Dear, dear child, though. Mother calls it a beautiful letter.

It was so characteristic of S. J.-B. to show that letter to her Mother!

It was just like S. J.-B. to show that letter to her mom!

On April 29th Miss Octavia Hill writes again to her sister:

On April 29th, Miss Octavia Hill writes to her sister again:

“You dear old thing, I wish I had you here to give you a good rest and rousing, and refreshing. I am as merry as a grig.... Miss J.-B. and I are always doing things together—great companions I am with her. You know she’s teaching me Euclid. We went to see Holman Hunt’s picture,...”^[17]

“You dear old friend, I wish I had you here to give you a nice break and a boost. I'm as happy as can be... Miss J.-B. and I are always doing things together—we make great companions. You know she's teaching me Euclid. We went to see Holman Hunt’s painting,...”^[17]

And again we quote from S. J.-B.’s diary:

And once more we quote from S. J.-B.’s diary:

“May 17th, Whitsunday. A most delicious day at Hurst with Ruth ^[18] and Octa. Went down together second-class by 6 train.... Told Octa about Wales,—sitting in her room on the table, my heart beating like a hammer. That Carry wanted to go to Wales and I too, and most convenient about beginning of July, so ... ‘Put off my 86visit?’ said Octa. ‘No, I was going to say (slowly) if you wish to see anything of me, you must come too, I think, and not put off the mountains till heaven.’ She sunk her head on my lap silently, raised it in tears, and then such a kiss!”

“May 17th, Whitsunday. A beautiful day at Hurst with Ruth ^[18] and Octa. We traveled down together in second class on the 6 train.... I talked to Octa about Wales — sitting in her room at the table, my heart racing. I mentioned that Carry wanted to go to Wales and so did I, and it would be most convenient at the beginning of July, so ... ‘Are you saying I should cancel my visit?’ asked Octa. ‘No, I was going to say (slowly) if you want to see anything of me, you need to come along too, and not put off the mountains until the afterlife.’ She lowered her head on my lap silently, then lifted it up in tears, and then such a kiss!”

There is a happy letter about this Welsh tour:

There’s a cheerful note about this Welsh trip:

“Bettws-Y-Coed,

July 26th/60.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

We have decided rather in a hurry as there are to be no prizes, ... to give a treat to all, which, however, Mr. Jones specially stipulates is not to be a school treat.... It is just coming off today. I ordered 60 lbs. of dough and etcs. from Catherine Owen,—rather less rich than last year (that is, fewer eggs and less butter). It makes 88 lbs. altogether. But it was only settled on Monday, and as this is Thursday I am half afraid all may not know. But we have tried hard to send scouts everywhere....

We've decided pretty quickly, since there won’t be any prizes, to treat everyone, but Mr. Jones specifically insists that it’s not a school treat.... It’s happening today. I ordered 60 lbs. of dough and other things from Catherine Owen — a bit less rich than last year (fewer eggs and less butter). It totals 88 lbs. altogether. But we just figured this out on Monday, and since today is Thursday, I’m a little worried not everyone might be informed. But we’ve done our best to send scouts everywhere....

Please tell me as early as possible where you will be each day of the week beginning Sunday, August the 12th. Now don’t let Tom just prevent your remembering or caring ^[19] to meet your little one. I do long to see you so....

Please let me know as soon as you can where you'll be each day of the week starting Sunday, August 12th. Don’t let Tom stop you from remembering or wanting to meet your little one. I really want to see you so...

Weymouth St. July 30th. All over, darling, now, and such a happy time without a single blot I never remember in my life. Every thing has been better than any anticipation of it. We have done everything we wanted to do. We have been everywhere and have had no mischance, no annoyance of any kind. Octa looks five years younger, and as bright as a sunbeam. And I am in so thoroughly happy a state of mind as hardly to know myself. I really almost think I should be good-tempered now. We came home by Llangollen on Saturday, 40 miles coach and 194 miles rail. Not a bad journey for one day. We went up that morning to your high mound. The view was glorious. I took poor old Ellen Jones some squills for her cough, but she looks very ill indeed. She sent so very much love to you, and wished she had something to send you.

Weymouth St. July 30th. It’s all over now, darling, and it has been such a happy time without a single issue that I can hardly remember anything like it in my life. Everything has been better than I expected. We’ve done everything we wanted to do, been everywhere, and had no bad luck or annoyance at all. Octa looks five years younger and as bright as a sunbeam. I’m in such a happy state of mind that I can hardly recognize myself. I almost feel like I should be good-tempered now. We came home through Llangollen on Saturday, 40 miles by coach and 194 miles by train. Not a bad journey for one day. We went up to your high mound that morning. The view was amazing. I took poor old Ellen Jones some squills for her cough, but she looks really unwell. She sent you so much love and wished she had something to send you.

The treat came off excellently on Thursday. It was grand fun to see Octa playing with the children. At Hunt the Slipper once, she, pretending she had the shoe, held up her boot toe, saying, ‘See, here it is,’ or something like it. Grace Owen, who was seeking, seized hold of it as quick as light, crying ‘Let me have it then,’ pulled away, and capsized Octa entirely amid roars of laughing. Octa sprang up and chased her round and round the field till she caught and tickled her. It was quite one of the bits of fun of the evening.... The only contretemps was that poor little Hannah 87fell down and sprained her arm. However, Miss Hill’s surgical powers came in grandly, and I do not suppose Hannah is any the worse except for a few days inaction. Well, how strange it is to find this all over, and probably never to return. I cannot say I am glad our tour is over, for I do believe I was never so happy for so long in my whole life, but neither can I say I am sorry to see dear old London again,—I am sure I could come back to no other place—as a place—with near so much pleasure....

The party went really well on Thursday. It was a lot of fun to see Octa playing with the kids. During a game of Hunt the Slipper, she pretended to have the shoe, lifted her boot toe, and said, ‘Look, here it is,’ or something like that. Grace Owen, who was searching, grabbed it as fast as lightning, shouted ‘Let me have it then,’ pulled it away, and knocked Octa over completely, making everyone roar with laughter. Octa got up and chased her around the field until she caught her and tickled her. That was definitely one of the highlights of the evening. The only disagreement was when poor little Hannah 87fell down and sprained her arm. However, Miss Hill’s first-aid skills came in handy, and I doubt Hannah is any worse off except for a few days of not being able to move much. It’s so strange to think it’s all over now, probably never to happen again. I can’t say I’m glad our trip is ended because I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this happy for such a long time in my life, but I also can’t say I’m sad to see dear old London again—I really don’t think I could enjoy any other place as much....

Just fancy Octavia’s energy,—after that tremendous journey not reaching home till 10.30, she was off to Lincoln’s Inn at 7 a.m. the next morning for the early communion, and went again, and I with her in the afternoon. Her Mother and sister were so delighted with her account of all her doings, and a glorious one she gave certainly. I had tea with them last night. Goodbye, my darling, for the present. Not so very long now, I trust, before we meet.

Just imagine Octavia's energy—after that exhausting trip, she didn’t get home until 10:30, but she was up at 7 a.m. the next morning heading to Lincoln’s Inn for early communion, and she went again in the afternoon with me. Her mom and sister were so happy to hear about everything she did, and she definitely gave a wonderful account. I had tea with them last night. Goodbye for now, my darling. I hope it won't be too long before we see each other again.

Aug. 1st. Although this has been in a ‘Milan’ envelope all this time, I suppose I must now send it to Chamounix, as I foolishly forgot to post it yesterday.

Aug. 1st. Even though it’s been in a ‘Milan’ envelope all this time, I guess I have to send it to Chamounix now, since I stupidly forgot to mail it yesterday.

Today quite forgotten to order any dinner, so just bought some cheese and strawberries.

Today I totally forgot to order dinner, so I just bought some cheese and strawberries.

Tell Carry John Davis has sent her a letter to complain of me, which was forwarded to me, and which I have answered. Goodbye darling.

Tell Carry that John Davis has sent her a letter complaining about me, which was forwarded to me, and I have responded. Goodbye, darling.

Yours lovingly,

Sophisticated.”

In August, when S. J.-B. and Miss Heaton were abroad together, Miss Hill writes:

In August, when S. J.-B. and Miss Heaton were overseas together, Miss Hill writes:

“London feels strangely desolate, the lamps looked as they used to look, pitiless and unending as I walked home last night, and knew I could not go to you.... I don’t the least suppose you’ll go to Florence or see my sisters, but, if you should, pray take off your ‘spikes’ and remember ... how much they love England, and everyone who is a friend of ours. I look forward to bright long days in which I shall learn always more about you, and watch with unending and unfathomable love and sympathy your upward growth, and we may look back together on our lives, as I do often on my own, and wonder how I could know and see so little, and wonder more how, knowing so little, I should be led continually to deeper truth.”

"London feels strangely empty. The streetlights looked just like they always do, cold and endless as I walked home last night, knowing I couldn’t come to you.... I really don’t think you’ll go to Florence or see my sisters, but if you do, please take off your ‘spikes’ and remember ... how much they love England, and everyone who is our friend. I can’t wait for bright, long days where I’ll keep learning more about you, and watch with endless and deep love and support as you grow, and we can look back together on our lives, like I often do on my own, and wonder how I could know and see so little, and more importantly, how, knowing so little, I keep being led to deeper truths."

Here, one would have said, was the beginning of an ideal friendship, and so it might have proved—allowing, of course, for the necessary rubs between two such strong natures—had the two girls been alone in the world. But each of the 88two belonged to a family that in different ways exacted a great deal from each of its members, and particularly of the member involved in the present friendship. It is doubtful whether even the two girls could have made a success of living together, for the diary refers occasionally to “cataracts and breaks,” and on both sides there are letters of penitence for hot temper or “coldness and pride.” Moreover, Miss Hill loved peace more than do most, and, dearly as she loved S. J.-B., she was almost bound in time to find her “more stimulating than quotidian,” to quote a quaint phrase of Carlyle’s.

Here, one might say, was the start of an ideal friendship, and it could have turned out that way—considering, of course, the usual challenges between two strong personalities—if the two girls had been on their own. But each of the 88 girls came from families that, in different ways, demanded a lot from each of their members, especially from the one involved in this friendship. It's questionable whether the two girls could have successfully lived together at all, since the diary occasionally mentions "cataracts and breaks," and there are letters from both sides expressing regret for their bad tempers or “coldness and pride.” Furthermore, Miss Hill valued peace more than most, and although she cared deeply for S. J.-B., she was bound to eventually find her “more stimulating than everyday life,” to quote an old phrase from Carlyle.

It is therefore with no small sinking of heart that one reads the following entry in S. J.-B.’s diary:

It is with a heavy heart that one reads the following entry in S. J.-B.’s diary:

“Sept. 9th. Sunday [1860]. A plan on foot of my taking part of a house with the Hills and having Alice for a servant. That would be very jolly. But rents high about here,—least £120.”

“Sept. 9th. Sunday [1860]. There's a plan for me to share a house with the Hills and have Alice as a servant. That would be really nice. But rent is high around here—at least £120.”

Certainly a similar sinking of heart took possession of Mr. and Mrs. Jex-Blake, and when they learned that the finding of a tenant for the drawing-room floor was an essential part of the scheme, it is not surprising that—short of stopping their daughter’s allowance which had been increased some time before—they did everything in their power to discourage the arrangement. They were well aware that, here as everywhere, the willing shoulders would take their full share of work and responsibility. The reader will be prepared for Mr. Jex-Blake’s point of view:

Certainly, a similar feeling of despair overtook Mr. and Mrs. Jex-Blake, and when they found out that securing a tenant for the drawing-room floor was a crucial part of the plan, it’s no wonder that—except for cutting off their daughter’s allowance, which had been increased some time ago—they did everything they could to discourage the arrangement. They knew well that, just like everywhere else, the willing individuals would take on their fair share of work and responsibility. The reader will be ready for Mr. Jex-Blake’s perspective:

“Dearest Child,

“Dear Child,

You cannot surely mean to take a house and let lodgings in direct opposition to your dear Mother and me. It would be quite disgraceful and we never can consent to it. I will not believe, my dear child, with all our love for you, that you will so directly disobey us, or that Miss Hill, knowing our feelings on the subject, can be a party to it.

You can't seriously be thinking about getting a house and renting out rooms against your dear Mom and me. That would be really shameful, and we can never agree to it. I refuse to believe, my dear child, despite all our love for you, that you would outright disobey us, or that Miss Hill, knowing how we feel about this, would go along with it.

When you spoke of the other house, you said a lawyer was to look over the lease, and take care of the Hills, and I firmly believed, till the last few days, that you were to hire rooms. I had no more idea of your becoming a lodging-house keeper than of your keeping a shop. You cannot suppose that I would assist Miss Hill in such an exceedingly blameable transaction. I would with real pleasure assist her in all possible ways ... but no Father or Mother who 89love their daughter, in your position, could consent to her joining in it. I trust, dearest child, you will give up all idea of such a thing, which, once done, you would repent as long as you lived.”

When you talked about the other house, you mentioned that a lawyer was going to review the lease and handle things with the Hills, and until just a few days ago, I really believed you were going to rent rooms. I couldn’t have imagined you becoming a boarding house owner any more than running a store. You can't really think I would help Miss Hill with such a questionable deal. I would be more than happy to help her in every way possible... but no loving father or mother would agree to their daughter being involved in something like that. I hope, my dear child, that you will completely abandon the idea of it, as you would regret it for the rest of your life once it was done.

The response to this protest has not been preserved. On October 18th Miss Hill writes:

The response to this protest hasn’t been kept. On October 18th, Miss Hill writes:

“My darling Child,

“My dear child,”

Thanks for all the trouble that you are taking about the houses, I am quite ashamed it should all fall to your share. Is Harley Street house quite out of the question? I received a letter from Mama, earnestly desiring that we should keep near the park; she would not at all like Bentinck Street. Don’t weary yourself with searching. I certainly will return on Thursday (probably much before) then we will look together again.... If it would secure the Harley Street house by all means let us pay all the taxes whatever they may be. I am writing in the dark. Goodbye, my own darling treasure.

Thanks for all the effort you're putting into finding houses; I feel really bad that it's all falling on you. Is the Harley Street house completely out of the question? I got a letter from Mom, strongly asking us to stay close to the park; she wouldn't like Bentinck Street at all. Don’t wear yourself out searching. I’ll definitely be back on Thursday (probably much earlier), and then we can look together again... If paying all the taxes would secure the Harley Street house, let's do it, no matter what they are. I'm writing in the dark. Goodbye, my dear treasure.

I am,
Yours affectionately,
Octavia Hill.

Mama has an affection now for Harley Street.”

Mama has a fondness now for Harley Street.

Finally, the house 14 Nottingham Place was taken, and rather more than the customary number of difficulties had to be worked through in connection with it. In addition to this, illness broke out in the house, and there were several invalids to be nursed.

Finally, the house at 14 Nottingham Place was acquired, but there were more than the usual challenges to navigate. On top of that, illness struck the house, and several residents needed care.

The most forgiving of mothers writes after a visit to her daughter:

The most understanding of mothers writes after visiting her daughter:

“It is all your own choice and doubtless right, but it sometimes grieves me to think how many discomforts you have, and how many indulgences I have—only it is not my doing that you have them not. I wish I did not think of you as worn and fagged. Do assure me that you go to bed as early as you can and get good rest.”

“It’s entirely your choice, and I’m sure it’s the right one, but it sometimes makes me sad to think about how many hardships you face and how many comforts I have—though it’s not my fault you don’t have them. I wish I didn’t see you as tired and worn out. Please promise me that you go to bed as early as possible and get plenty of rest.”

Fortunately youth and friendship make all things easy, or at least bearable. During S. J.-B.’s brief absence in December Miss Hill writes:

Fortunately, youth and friendship make everything easier, or at least more tolerable. During S. J.-B.’s short absence in December, Miss Hill writes:

“Oh, child, your letters are such a delight, but I miss you so dreadfully. I wander like a lost thing about the house and long for you intensely. Every place seems so desolate. Every witness of your thought and active care of and for me contrasted vividly with Z’s odd procrastination till I almost felt unjust and unkind. 90And yet I ought to glory in your kindness and goodness, and in all that mighty and glorious energy that will help so many people in this sad world, if it is spared to us. Your room, the fire, the thought of all you had told me to provide for myself, fills my eyes with tears. I mean to spend a very quiet and happy Sunday.” And again, later,—“Do you know I get on very much more easily with strangers than I used, all of which I owe to you. It is a great satisfaction to me: it pleases one’s friends to have their friends like one.”

“Oh, child, your letters bring me so much joy, but I miss you terribly. I wander around the house like I'm lost and long for you deeply. Every place feels so empty. Every reminder of your thoughtful care for me stands in stark contrast to Z’s strange procrastination, making me feel almost unjust and unkind. 90And yet I should take pride in your kindness and goodness, and in all that amazing energy that will help so many people in this sad world, if we are fortunate enough to keep it. Your room, the fire, and the thought of everything you told me to prepare for myself bring tears to my eyes. I plan to spend a very quiet and happy Sunday.” And again, later—“Do you know I get along much more easily with strangers now than I used to, all of which I owe to you. It brings me great satisfaction: it pleases friends to see their friends get along.”

Up to this point the friendship had been an almost unqualified gain, but, little by little, Miss Hill began to feel the strain of dividing herself—so to speak—between her family, her comrade and her work. In May 1861 she was called away by the illness of her friend, Miss Harris,^[20] and the change to an ideally peaceful life was just what she needed. Her own health had begun to suffer and she remained on at the Lakes for some months to gain strength. In her absence, S. J.-B. took on her own shoulders in great measure the responsibilities of householder. Hitherto her acquaintance with the other members of the Hill family had been slight, but a warm friendship now sprang up between her and the sister, Miranda, who often shared the meals made ready by the devoted Alice and served by her in her young mistress’ room. Few young people in the first glow of a new friendship have sufficient tact, self-control and knowledge of life to avoid all risk of wounding their elders, and such tact would scarcely be possible in a nature like S. J.-B.’s. Little rubs and frictions increased, and no doubt Octavia was the confidante of all. In July she writes:

Up to this point, the friendship had been an almost completely positive experience, but little by little, Miss Hill started to feel the strain of splitting herself—so to speak—between her family, her friend, and her work. In May 1861, she was called away due to the illness of her friend, Miss Harris,^[20] and the shift to a perfectly peaceful life was exactly what she needed. Her own health had begun to decline, so she stayed at the Lakes for several months to regain her strength. During her absence, S. J.-B. took on many of the household responsibilities. Until then her interactions with the other members of the Hill family had been minimal, but a close friendship developed between her and the sister, Miranda, who often shared meals prepared by the dedicated Alice and served in her young mistress’ room. Few young people, in the excitement of a new friendship, have enough tact, self-control, and life experience to avoid offending their elders, and such tact was unlikely in someone like S. J.-B. Small disagreements and tensions increased, and undoubtedly, Octavia was the confidante for all of it. In July, she writes:

“I hold myself prepared to come when it seems right, sure to be given strength to do my duty, but certainly not longing for anything that will bring me again into a world of contention. I can’t bear to think how pained you would be if you could know the strength of this feeling, for I know you would feel it a failure of love. I tell you all this because I am sure you will feel it in my letters, because I am sure such a cloud hurts less when frankly confessed, because I am sure such a friendship as yours and mine need not fear it, remaining untouched and immoveable, based on what can neither change nor know fear.... All my life long this dread and misery about even the slightest contention or estrangement has taken the form of misery, continually saying in itself, ‘I cannot bear it.’ Since 91physical strength has left me so far this wretched dread has increased tenfold....

“I’m ready to come when the time feels right, confident that I’ll have the strength to do what I need to, but definitely not looking forward to anything that would pull me back into a world of conflict. I can’t stand to think how hurt you’d be if you truly understood how strong this feeling is, because I know you’d see it as a failure of love. I’m sharing all this because I’m sure you’ll sense it in my letters, because I believe that acknowledging such a burden is easier than keeping it hidden, and because I’m certain that a friendship like ours doesn’t need to fear it, remaining solid and unshakable, grounded in what is unchanging and fearless.... Throughout my life, this fear and anguish about even the smallest disagreements or separations has taken the form of misery, constantly whispering to itself, ‘I cannot bear it.’ Since 91 I’ve lost much of my physical strength, this dreadful fear has grown tenfold....

How delightfully kind and good you are to everybody. I can fancy I see you, brightly kind, good and energetic, going about among all the people, entertaining monitors, inviting my sisters to tea, giving club dinners, learning about examinations, arranging the play, talking to Miss Boucherett, delighting to plan work and holiday for them all.... When I have thought, as I often have, that it is probable that I may never have strength to work any more, you cannot think how I have clung to the thought of your ever ready and powerful help and care.”

How wonderfully kind and good you are to everyone. I can just picture you, so bright, kind, good, and full of energy, moving among all the people, entertaining guests, inviting my sisters for tea, organizing club dinners, looking into exams, arranging the play, chatting with Miss Boucherett, and happily planning work and holidays for all of them... When I’ve thought, which I often do, that I might never have the strength to work again, you can't imagine how much I've relied on the thought of your always ready and strong support and care.

Through all this tide of affection, one wonders whether S. J.-B. in any way realized the very genuine apprehension her friend felt about returning to the atmosphere of contention. The probability is that she did not realize it at all, or rather that she looked upon it as the expression of a transient mood caused by physical weakness. No doubt she made a generous resolve that “everything should be made easy for Octa” when she returned; but she did not realize how great was the need for resolve. She never saw her own personality from the outside; and of course hers was not the only “temperament” in the house. No member of the family could have been described as a mere cabbage.

Through all this wave of affection, one wonders if S. J.-B. even realized the genuine worry her friend had about going back to an environment full of conflict. The likely answer is that she didn’t realize it at all, or rather, she thought it was just a passing mood caused by physical weakness. No doubt she made a heartfelt promise that “everything should be easy for Octa” when she came back; but she didn’t understand how much she needed to commit to that promise. She never saw her own personality from an outside perspective; and of course, she wasn’t the only one with a distinct “temperament” in the house. No one in the family could be described as just a passive bystander.

We all know how friction increases when the machinery is out of gear: differences of opinion grew: Mr. and Mrs. Jex-Blake protested against the imprudence of accepting a banker’s reference only, in the case of a foreigner who was in terms for the rooms, and for once their daughter upheld their view with tenacity. Finally,—though this not till October—the state of strain became so great that Octavia was summoned home.

We all know how friction increases when the machinery isn’t working properly: disagreements arose: Mr. and Mrs. Jex-Blake argued against the recklessness of accepting just a banker’s reference in the case of a foreigner who was on good terms for the rooms, and for once their daughter strongly supported their opinion. Eventually—though not until October—the tension became so intense that Octavia was called home.

One can sympathize profoundly with her in the difficult situation she was called upon to face. She knew by this time what the faults were on both sides, knew in particular that S. J.-B. was not a placid person; began to guess perhaps that explosions of temper were as essential to that generous nature as the thunderstorm is to a stretch of summer days. Meanwhile everyone was counting on her to solve the difficulty with a wave of her wand: and here was she, never very robust, weary with a long journey, called away from a congenial 92holiday to the intimate association with a thousand and one petty cares in addition to the special crisis that had summoned her home.

One can deeply sympathize with her in the tough situation she had to face. By this point, she understood the faults on both sides and especially realized that S. J.-B. was not an easygoing person; she started to suspect that outbursts of anger were just as necessary to that generous nature as thunderstorms are to a stretch of summer days. Meanwhile, everyone was depending on her to fix the issue with a wave of her hand: and here she was, not exactly strong, exhausted from a long trip, pulled away from a pleasant holiday to deal with a ton of little worries in addition to the specific crisis that had brought her home.

The extracts given above are a mere gleaning from many unpublished letters which bear witness to her devoted attachment to S. J.-B., but although her sympathy with her own mother was perhaps less fervent at this time than it afterwards became—she had a strong sense of filial affection and duty. Moreover she had her work in the world to do—invaluable work we know it proved—and she felt that she could only do it in an atmosphere of peace and quiet.

The excerpts provided above are just a small selection from many unpublished letters that show her deep connection to S. J.-B. While her sympathy for her own mother may not have been as intense at this time as it later became, she still had a strong sense of love and responsibility towards her family. Additionally, she had important work to accomplish in the world—work that we now recognize as invaluable—and she believed she could only achieve this in a peaceful and calm environment.

Assuredly it was not an easy situation to face. Looking back upon the whole story after more than half-a-century, one cannot but wish that she had simply compelled S. J.-B. to realize the truth,—that she found herself unable to live and do her work unless she could have the peace that her soul loved, that—much as she had profited up to a certain point by the stimulating friendship of one so unlike herself—the time had come when she found that friendship too stimulating under present conditions. Surely—one fancies—some arrangement might have been arrived at by which so mutually beneficial a friendship might have been continued.

It definitely wasn’t an easy situation to deal with. Looking back at the whole story after more than fifty years, one can’t help but wish she had just made S. J.-B. see the truth—that she couldn’t live and do her work without the peace her soul craved, that—although she had gained a lot from the energizing friendship of someone so different from her—there came a point when that friendship became too intense given the current circumstances. Surely—one imagines—some kind of arrangement could have been made to keep such a mutually beneficial friendship going.

Miss Hill, however, decided otherwise. In the watches of that first night, after a long talk with her Mother (a talk that, in the nature of the case, can scarcely have emphasized S. J.-B.’s point of view), before she had even seen her friend, she resolved to forego even the semblance of an attempt to reconcile these conflicting claims. Something must go, and that something must not be the mother and sisters to whom she had devoted most of her ardent young life, the mother and sisters who depended on her wisdom and goodness more even than they knew.

Miss Hill, however, had other plans. During the early hours of that first night, after a long conversation with her mom (a talk that definitely didn’t highlight S. J.-B.’s perspective), and before she had even seen her friend, she decided to give up any attempt to reconcile these conflicting demands. Something had to give, and that something couldn’t be her mother and sisters, who had been the focus of her passionate young life, the mother and sisters who relied on her judgment and kindness more than they realized.

It was one thing to make the great resolve: it was quite another to explain it to the friend whose one conscious desire was to make Octa’s life an easy one.

It was one thing to make the big decision: it was completely different to explain it to the friend whose only real wish was to make Octa’s life easy.

So she set her face like a flint, and, for the first time in the course of their friendship, she refused to see S. J.-B.’s side of the question at all. Peace must be secured at all costs, and, 93if peace was to be secured, this delightful exacting friendship must end. S. J.-B. might retain her rooms for the time as a matter of business—

So she set her jaw with determination, and for the first time in their friendship, she refused to consider S. J.-B.'s perspective at all. Peace had to be achieved no matter what, and if peace was to be achieved, this wonderfully demanding friendship had to come to an end. S. J.-B. could keep her rooms for now as a business matter— 93

But neither S. J.-B. nor her indignant Mother would listen to that.

But neither S. J.-B. nor her outraged mom would hear any of it.

Well, then, let it all go. The time for half measures—or so Miss Hill thought—was over. All intercourse must cease. “The relentless knife must cut sheer through.”

Well, then, let it all go. The time for half measures—or so Miss Hill thought—was over. All communication must stop. “The relentless knife must cut straight through.”

How much the effort cost her we gather from the extent to which she overdid the part. She was at the end of her tether, so to speak, and acting, doubtless, on an instinct of sheer self-preservation, she would allow no discussion of any kind. She set her face so flintily that S. J.-B. was driven in uttermost bewilderment to the conclusion that the complete withdrawal was due to some extraordinary aberration on the part of her friend—an aberration for which so noble a being could not be responsible, and which might therefore come to an end as suddenly as it had begun. A thousand times she had said to herself, “Everything will be right when Octavia comes!” And now, behold, Octavia was here, and it was no Octavia. It was a fairy changeling to whom the beautiful past was a thing unknown. The rupture was so complete that it was no rupture. It was a nightmare, an inexplicable darkness at noonday, something so contrary to all known laws of nature that it could not last. This hope, this attitude of expectancy, was encouraged by the extraordinarily tender and appreciative letters which, at intervals for some years, broke through Miss Hill’s reserve. In one of these letters, dated Nov. 5th, she writes:

How much effort it cost her is evident from how much she overdid the role. She was at her breaking point, so to speak, and acting, undoubtedly, on an instinct for self-preservation, she allowed no discussion whatsoever. She set her face so sternly that S. J.-B. was left utterly confused, concluding that her complete withdrawal was due to some extraordinary change in her friend—something so noble a person couldn’t be responsible for, and which could end as suddenly as it started. A thousand times she had told herself, “Everything will be okay when Octavia arrives!” And now, here was Octavia, but it wasn't really her. It was a fairy changeling who knew nothing of their beautiful past. The break was so total that it felt like no break at all. It was a nightmare, an inexplicable darkness at midday, something so against all known laws of nature that it couldn’t last. This hope and sense of expectation was bolstered by the extraordinarily kind and appreciative letters that occasionally broke through Miss Hill’s usual restraint over the years. In one of these letters, dated November 5th, she writes:

“Oh, Sophy, how splendidly you and your Mother did act those last days that now seem so far away.... When I see how deep your forethought was, so loving as to have remembered the very slightest things that might be the least trouble to us when you were no longer near to take care of us, one feels as if an angel had (may I not say still is taking) care of us.”

“Oh, Sophy, you and your mom acted so wonderfully in those last days that now feel like ages ago.... When I see how thoughtful you were, so loving as to remember even the smallest things that could have been the slightest hassle for us when you weren't around to look after us, it feels like an angel has (can I say still is taking) care of us.”

A generous letter indeed, but in the face of such letters was it any wonder that S. J.-B. failed as of old to grasp the extent of the difficulty,—that she refused to accept the situation as final,—that she lived on in hope, and often all but 94intolerable suspense? “Did I want to learn constancy?” she says.

A truly generous letter, but given letters like that, is it any surprise that S. J.-B. still struggled to understand how serious the situation was—that she wouldn’t take it as final—that she continued to hope and often felt almost unbearable suspense? “Did I want to learn constancy?” she asks.

If the lesson was needed, most assuredly it was learned. Till the close of her life the friendship on her side remained unbroken, although she ceased in time to speak of it even to her most intimate friends; in repeated wills she left the whole of her little property to Miss Hill,^[21] and, although other friends came in time to fill the empty place—although she even wrote playfully in her diary some twenty years later of her “fanciful faithfulness”—until the eve of her last illness she would not extinguish the hope that “even in this life” the friendship might be renewed.

If the lesson was necessary, it was definitely learned. Until the end of her life, her side of the friendship stayed strong, even though she eventually stopped mentioning it to her closest friends. In several wills, she left all her small possessions to Miss Hill,^[21] and while other friends eventually filled the empty space—she even wrote playfully in her diary about her “fanciful faithfulness” some twenty years later—up until the night before her last illness, she held on to the hope that “even in this life” the friendship could be revived.

One might say more than this. From the time of the rupture, Octavia Hill became to S. J.-B. a pure ideal—something of what the subject of the In Memoriam was to the author of that wonderful threnody.

One could say even more than this. From the moment of the split, Octavia Hill became a pure ideal to S. J.-B.—something like what the subject of the In Memoriam was to the writer of that beautiful elegy.

In any case the whole history of the friendship was destined to lie on higher levels because Octavia Hill had felt bound to break it off.

In any case, the entire story of the friendship was meant to exist on a higher plane because Octavia Hill felt obligated to end it.

CHAPTER VIII
A STEP BEYOND

It has never been customary among students of human nature to attach great importance to the outpourings of a romantic friendship, save in the rare cases where these have achieved consummate literary form. The religion of the adolescent, too, is a thing that we are apt to take a good deal for granted. In S. J.-B.’s case, however, the ideal—the vision—to which this brief friendship gave rise throws a light on potentialities of feeling and expression which we should otherwise never have had. The fact that so apparently transient a gleam should have given rise to a great and lasting inspiration lifts the passages that follow quite out of the category of the great mass of similar experiences.

It's never really been common for people studying human behavior to give much weight to the expressions of a romantic friendship, except in the rare instances where these feelings have been captured in outstanding literary works. We also tend to overlook the spiritual beliefs of young people. However, in S. J.-B.'s case, the ideal—the vision—that emerged from this brief friendship highlights emotional and expressive possibilities we would have otherwise missed. The fact that such a seemingly short-lived spark resulted in a significant and enduring inspiration elevates the following passages far above the usual array of similar experiences.

The effect of one personality upon another is a thing we can never predict and seldom explain. It is not a mere question of addition or even of multiplication. The process is a vital one which can never be mechanically reckoned out. We all see over and over again in life how the receiver may contribute as much as the giver—the pupil no less than the teacher. When the word of God went forth from Sinai, we are told, each man heard it in the tongue in which he was born.

The impact of one person's personality on another is something we can never foresee and rarely understand. It's not just a simple matter of addition or multiplication. The interaction is a dynamic process that cannot be calculated mechanically. We frequently witness in life how the receiver can be just as influential as the giver—the student can impact the teacher just as much. When the word of God was delivered from Sinai, it is said, each person heard it in the language they were born into.

In any case that strange and new experience came with the force of a ferment to S. J.-B. “She was never the same again,” says a lifelong friend, looking back on the whole history after more than fifty years: “it cut her life in two.” But the cutting in two—like the division of the primordial cell—was the earnest, not of death, but of life on a larger scale.

In any case, that weird and new experience hit S. J.-B. like a wave of change. “She was never the same again,” says a lifelong friend, reflecting on the whole story after more than fifty years: “it split her life in two.” But the split—like the division of a primordial cell—was a sign, not of death, but of life on a bigger scale.

96“My Mother’s full glorious sympathy! What could I do without that? God bless her, my darling,—mine for ever.”

96“My mother's amazing support! What would I do without it? God bless her, my love—mine forever.”

So writes S. J.-B. in the first days of her trial. If anyone knew the meaning of the words, “as one whom his mother comforteth,” it was she.

So writes S. J.-B. in the early days of her trial. If anyone understood the meaning of the phrase, “as one whom his mother comforteth,” it was her.

And never did she need that comfort more than now. She left the house in Nottingham Place at once, but she gallantly finished her term at Queen’s College and then went home to Brighton. “I must not get bitter and cynical,” she says. “I don’t think I shall. And yet the crash has been awful.”

And she never needed that comfort more than right now. She left the house on Nottingham Place immediately, but she bravely completed her term at Queen’s College and then went back home to Brighton. “I must not become bitter and cynical,” she says. “I don't think I will. And yet the fallout has been terrible.”

As often before in lesser troubles she was thrown back on her own deep religious faith.

As she had in smaller troubles before, she relied on her strong religious faith.

“Bankrupt?” she asks herself. “No, by God’s grace, no! No personal trouble, no trouble of any kind, can wreck a life in His charge. Still His,—that the strong, the enduring thought.

“Bankrupt?” she asks herself. “No, thank God, no! No personal issues, no problems of any kind, can ruin a life under His care. Still His— that’s the strong, the lasting thought.

From this very threshold of pain, whatever be its present issue, shall go forth an earnest patient life,—to continue Christ’s faithful soldier and servant to my life’s end.

From this very point of pain, no matter what happens next, I will lead an earnest and patient life—to be a faithful soldier and servant of Christ until the end of my days.

Yes, I,—Christ’s soldier! Yes, earnestly, heartily, entirely, though speculatively this Christ I know not,—though my mind asks in all uncertainty What and Who?...

Yes, I—Christ’s soldier! Yes, sincerely, wholeheartedly, completely, even though I’m unsure about this Christ I don't really know—though my mind questions in total uncertainty What and Who?...

Dogmas are one thing; life is another.

Doing is clear; ‘doing the will,’—‘knowing the doctrine’ shall come later. Not believing though. I mean understanding,—receiving with reason and mind.”

Doing is straightforward; ‘doing the will’—‘knowing the doctrine’ will come later. Not believing, though. I mean understanding—taking it in with reason and intellect.

So she prepared her altar, “and put no fire under,” but the flash came.

So she set up her altar, “and put no fire under,” but the flash appeared.

“Dec. 13th. Sunday. 11.45 p.m. Who could have believed what a happy holy evening has succeeded to all the pain, storm and whirlwind of the morning?

“Dec. 13th. Sunday. 11:45 p.m. Who would have thought that such a joyful and sacred evening could follow all the pain, chaos, and turmoil of the morning?

Dr. Smith’s death.^[22] The loss of Octavia’s day,—her visit of one hour; the utter stupor of misery. Then, with all the pain, the perfect feeling of content and assurance of Rightness in things. Then this happy evening, lifting me altogether out of myself and my pain into the trials and struggles and efforts and interests of Lucy and Emily,—and, thank God, the power of helping both. Now this calm perfect peace, which sends me to bed ‘resting.’... Oh, God is most merciful, most bountiful. ‘Like as a Father pitieth his children’.”

Dr. Smith’s death.^[22] The loss of Octavia’s day—her visit that lasted just one hour; the overwhelming numbing sadness. Then, despite all the pain, there was a deep sense of contentment and assurance that everything is as it should be. This enjoyable evening lifted me completely out of my own pain and into the challenges, struggles, efforts, and interests of Lucy and Emily—and, thank God, I had the ability to help both of them. Now, this calm, perfect peace sends me to bed feeling 'rested.'... Oh, God is so merciful and generous. ‘Just as a father has compassion on his children.’”

“12 p.m. Sunday night.

Don’t chide me for writing late, Mother. I must speak to you. If I could give you an idea of the peaceful, happy evening I have had,—sending me to bed with a heart full of love and joy and thankfulness. No, nothing has changed in outer things. I have no other news. But perfect peace has come. I can hardly tell you how happy I am, Mother.

Don’t scold me for writing so late, Mom. I need to talk to you. If I could share how peaceful and happy my evening has been—it’s sending me to bed with a heart full of love, joy, and gratitude. No, nothing has changed in my outside world. I don’t have any other news. But I’ve found perfect peace. I can hardly explain how happy I am, Mom.

I have had such a happy, holy evening with two or three of the girls.... And God seemed to give me such wonderful power to help them, and I believe He has helped them. And in all this—I know not how, but I wake up at their departing ... to find that somehow God has rolled away my burden utterly.

I had such a joyful, meaningful evening with a couple of the girls.... And it felt like God gave me amazing strength to support them, and I truly believe He has helped them. And through all of this—I can't explain how, but when they left, I realized that somehow God had completely lifted my burden.

I had forgotten it and myself altogether, and now I can find neither. I can hardly believe in the pain and misery of the morning, it seems a dim, far-off memory.

I had completely forgotten about it and lost track of myself too, and now I can't find either. I can barely even believe in the pain and misery of that morning; it feels like a vague, distant memory.

Is it not wonderful, Mother? Goodnight, my own darling.

Isn't it amazing, Mom? Goodnight, my sweet darling.

Yours very very lovingly,

Sophie.

I do not know when I could so fully and entirely say, ‘I will lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou, Lord, only makest me to dwell in safety.’safety.’”

I don't know when I could truly say, ‘I will lie down in peace and sleep, because You, Lord, make me safe.’

Follows an undated fragment, probably written to her Mother next morning:

Follows an undated fragment, likely written to her mother the next morning:

“—passed other quiet wayfarers, just as heavily weighted. How gentle it ought to make one,—to see how utterly ignorant one may be of sorrow at one’s elbow,—how one can only be generally tender to people, if one would escape striking down an already tottering neighbour because one does not and cannot know his needs.

“—passed other quiet travelers, just as heavily burdened. How gentle it should make someone,—to see how completely unaware one can be of the sorrow next to them,—how one can only be generally compassionate towards others, if they want to avoid hurting a neighbor who's already struggling because they don’t and can’t know what that neighbor truly needs.

It is only God who sees which is the bruised reed, and cherishes that specially,—or can do so.

It’s only God who sees which is the bruised reed and values it specifically—or can do so.

I am thinking how near 4 o’clock is coming. It may bring me a kiss and a word from my darling. I am sure tonight’s post will at any rate.

I’m realizing how close it is to 4 o’clock. It might bring me a kiss and a message from my love. I’m sure tonight’s mail will, at the very least.

Well, dear, I have you always and forever, and with you only I could never be desolate. And I have her too,—though she doesn’t know it now.

Well, dear, I have you always and forever, and with you only I could never feel alone. And I have her too—though she doesn’t know it yet.

Yours very very lovingly,

Sophisticated.”

“4.30 p.m. Thanks, many, darling, for your loving little note. You will know before this that the cloud is not dispersing in the way you mean,—that it has only more fully and certainly overspread the sky. Yet there is—and will be more and more, please God,—a light in it too.”

“4:30 p.m. Thank you so much, darling, for your sweet little note. By now, you’ll know that the cloud isn’t clearing up like you hoped; it has just spread more completely across the sky. Still, there is—and will be more and more, please God—a light in it too.”

“Dec. 16th 1861. 8.30 p.m.

My own darling Mother,

My dear Mom

Thanks so many for the loving little scrap of letter which I knew would come to comfort me.

Thanks so much for the sweet little note that I knew would arrive to cheer me up.

The sympathy is always delicious, but the active need for it is utterly gone. You will have got my last night’s letter, so Mother will not go to bed with a sad heart for her baby.

The sympathy is always nice, but the urgent need for it is completely gone. You should have received my letter from last night, so Mom won’t go to bed with a heavy heart for her child.

Yesterday I was wondering how it should be possible that I should ever live out the next three days till I got home to you. Now every sort of trouble seems to have fled utterly away. I never knew before the meaning of the words, ‘the peace that passeth understanding’....

Yesterday, I was thinking about how I could possibly get through the next three days until I got home to you. Now, all kinds of worries seem to have completely vanished. I never understood the meaning of the phrase "the peace that surpasses understanding" until now...

I every now and then wake up with a kind of start of wonder to find such a sunny smile of heart gladness all over my face. And people see it too. It would be very odd if they didn’t when the whole world is changed to me. It is the most wonderful separation of the inner from the outer world that I ever knew. I suppose nothing is changed in the physical world, but everything seems for me bright and golden,—as in my Welsh tour with Octavia (I can speak of it and her now with perfect quiet peace), as in those days at Hurst.

I occasionally wake up in awe, surprised to find a bright smile of happiness all over my face. And people notice it too. It would be strange if they didn't, considering how the whole world feels different to me. It's the most amazing separation between my inner feelings and the outer world that I've ever experienced. I guess nothing has changed in the physical world, but everything seems bright and golden to me—just like during my trip to Wales with Octavia (I can talk about it and her now with complete peace), and those days at Hurst.

Last night I thought it most glorious, but too delicious to last; but it seems now the atmosphere of life, as if nothing can touch or shake it....

Last night I thought it was amazing, but too good to last; but now it feels like the atmosphere of life, as if nothing can touch or shake it....

Mother, a grand solemn wonder comes with it all, whether it is that when we have actually and literally given up every will and wish to God,—have rested utterly and entirely on Him with perfect trust—whether then pain loses its power, and only blessing, even now, can come.

Mother, a grand, serious awe comes with it all, whether it's that when we have truly and completely surrendered every desire and wish to God—rested entirely on Him with absolute trust—whether then pain loses its power, and only blessings, even now, can come.

... if so, what a glorious future one sees for all the sorrowful here,—for all the tried and suffering. ‘For all the wanderers the home is one’. The pain only till it has brought the bliss; the All-loving Father that cannot wound but to heal.

... if so, what a wonderful future lies ahead for all the sorrowful here,—for all the weary and suffering. ‘For everyone who wanders, there is a home’. The pain only lasts until it leads to happiness; the All-loving Father who can only hurt to heal.

Now my spirit is so perfectly at rest, all my strength seems to have come back to me like Samson. I feel as if Edinbro’ or anything else was nothing to me. ‘He hath set my heart at liberty’,—that is the very truth. Mother, how naturally in every depth of sorrow or joy one turns to those words about which verbally we quarrel,—not really or deeply, Mother.

Now my spirit is completely at peace, and all my strength feels restored, like Samson. I feel like Edinburgh or anything else doesn't matter to me. "He has set my heart free"—that's the absolute truth. Mom, how easily, in every moment of sadness or happiness, we turn to those words we argue about— not in a serious or deep way, Mom.

Goodnight, my own Darling,
Yours very lovingly,
Sophie.”

From diary:

“Dec. 16th Monday. ‘For as soon as ever thou hast delivered thyself to God with thy whole heart, and seekest not this or that 99for thine own pleasure or will, but fixest thyself wholly upon Him, thou shalt find thyself united and at peace.’

“Dec. 16th Monday. ‘As soon as you truly give yourself to God with your whole heart, and you’re not looking for this or that for your own pleasure or desire, but you focus entirely on Him, you will find yourself united and at peace.’”

Thomas à Kempis.”

“Dec. 22nd. Sunday, 11 p.m. The last thread actually broken,—the parting over.

“Dec. 22nd. Sunday, 11 p.m. The last connection is really gone,—the break is final.

Left London on Thursday evening by the 8 p.m....

Well, it is all in hands that cannot err,—speculative sceptic as I may be, practically my trust is as firm as the rock on which it rests. My Father doth do all things well,—and even makes me feel it,—even now. And surely, to take a lower ground, I have been an inapt pupil if the lessons of the last few months have not taught me the utter impossibility of calculating the possibilities of the future.

Well, it’s all in hands that can’t make mistakes—no matter how much of a speculative skeptic I am, my trust is as solid as the rock it stands on. My Father does everything well—and even makes me feel it—even now. And certainly, to look at it from a different perspective, I’ve been a poor student if the lessons of the last few months haven’t shown me that it’s completely impossible to predict the possibilities of the future.

Should I have believed from man or angel on Tuesday the first the events of Thursday the last of October?

Should I have trusted what a person or an angel said on Tuesday the 1st regarding the events of Thursday, the last of October?

But we don’t want low ground. He is the rock,—His work is perfect.

But we don’t want low ground. He is the rock—His work is perfect.

And He will care for my child.”

And He will take care of my child.”

Of course this mood of exaltation could not go on unbroken, except at the cost of sanity itself. Hours of reaction had to come. “We might have done anything together, we two!”

Of course, this feeling of euphoria couldn't last forever without risking our sanity. Hours of coming down had to happen. "We could have done anything together, just the two of us!"

“Dec. 29th Sunday. Tonight the bitterness seemed doubled in finding ‘my teachers removed out of my sight.’ I just feeling my way to truth,—saved by her from so much doubt and possible infidelity. Well, God will teach me, will He not, Himself,—so Mother said. I cannot (or feel as if I could not: cannot is not a word for ‘Christ’s soldier and servant’, is it?) put it all away. I seem so physically weak and rotten, so unable to exert will and force myself to be quiet.

“Dec. 29th Sunday. Tonight, the bitterness felt even heavier because I realized ‘my teachers are gone from my sight.’ I'm just trying to find my way to the truth—saved by her from so much doubt and possible disbelief. Well, God will teach me, won't He, just like Mother said. I can't (or feel like I can't: can't isn't really a word for ‘Christ’s soldier and servant,’ right?) push it all aside. I feel so physically weak and rotten, so unable to summon the will to calm myself down."

But I have found something to do. I behave infamously to the dear old man. Well! I mean to throw my whole being into being a good child at home. I won’t be rude and bad to him!

But I’ve found something to focus on. I’m acting terribly toward the dear old man. Well! I intend to put my entire effort into being a good kid at home. I won’t be rude and mean to him!

Now record this vow for a week,—don’t be superstitious, Jack; say ‘God helping me’ and go on,—forget yourself. Just do this piece of work,—and wait.

Now make a note of this promise for a week—don’t be superstitious, Jack; say 'With God's help' and keep going—forget about yourself. Just focus on this task—and wait.

So be it.

Alright then.

What was the ‘chief evil’ to which the suffering must be directed to be sufficient?

What was the 'main evil' that the suffering needed to be aimed at to be enough?

‘Selfishness,’ said I.

“Selfishness,” I said.

Truly, Jack. And what is it but intolerable selfishness,—this brooding over a ‘bootless bene’,—this expecting sympathy and all sorts of kindness and excuse from my Mother and the rest, and 100talking about nerves and fiddle-de-dees,—instead of forgetting myself and seeing to my work and to other people.

Honestly, Jack. What is it but unbearable selfishness—this dwelling on a 'futile benefit'—this expecting sympathy and all kinds of kindness and understanding from my mom and everyone else, and talking about nerves and nonsense—rather than forgetting about myself and focusing on my work and others. 100

Well, God helping me, now for a new leaf—of strength and resolve instead of whining self-pity.”

Well, with God’s help, it’s time for a fresh start—filled with strength and determination instead of complaining and feeling sorry for myself.

It was with this inspiration that she wrote to one of her pupils:

It was with this inspiration that she wrote to one of her students:

“Dec. 31st. 1861.

Dear Lucy,

Dear Lucy

... My Modern History was all right, thank you,—I forgot you had it. By the bye, your handwriting seems to me to have ‘suffered an improvement’—I must congratulate you.

... My Modern History was fine, thanks—I forgot you had it. By the way, your handwriting looks like it’s improved—I have to congratulate you.

I am very glad you think I have helped you, dear child,—my life has been a very pleasant one in London,—its memory will be pleasanter still if it has been too not quite useless to some of the people who have helped to make it so. I could not easily count the people who have helped me,—some directly,—some merely ‘by living.’ It is a glorious thing, is it not, to be a link in that chain of help which encircles the world,—to pass on to another what one has given us,—feeling how all our broken bits of help and gift are gathered up in the perfection of the Great Giver and ‘Father of Lights.’

I'm really happy you think I've helped you, dear child. My life in London has been very enjoyable, and it'll be even more enjoyable to remember if it hasn’t been completely useless to some of the people who made it so special. I could easily lose track of how many people have helped me—some directly, some just by existing. It's a beautiful thing, isn’t it, to be a part of that chain of assistance that surrounds the world—to pass on to others what we've been given—realizing how all our little bits of help and gifts are gathered up in the perfection of the Great Giver and 'Father of Lights.'

I do heartily hope that you will go back to Queen’s just to take and hold your place in that chain. Only do quite resolutely take your part for the highest and noblest,—remember ‘the soldier and servant’, and remember how very far we are from helping when we acquiesce in any wrong doing,—in any low standard of right and wrong, even by silence.

I really hope you go back to Queen’s to take and keep your position in that chain. Just make sure to firmly stand for the highest and the best—remember 'the soldier and servant,' and recognize how much we hinder progress when we accept any wrongdoing—any low standard of right and wrong, even by staying silent.

I do not think it would be easy to over-estimate the importance of a high pure tone among the leading girls at such a place as Queen’s,—perhaps such as you and L. hardly know what a power lies in your hands, for the very life of the College,—and mayn’t we look higher than that, and say for our Master’s work?

I don't think we can overstate how important a clear, strong voice is among the top girls at a place like Queen’s. You and L. might not fully realize the power you have, which is essential to the life of the College—and can we aim even higher and say it's vital for our Master's work?

And after all that is the true and simple way of looking at it,—for consequences we can’t calculate,—but we always can know right from wrong, and the rest is not our affair.

And after all, that's the straightforward way to see it—because we can't predict the consequences—but we can always tell right from wrong, and the rest isn't our concern.

Well, dear child, God bless and guide you,—that is the true help.”

Well, dear child, may God bless and guide you—that's the real support.

And, finally, she writes in her diary:

And, finally, she writes in her journal:

“Dec. 31st. 1861. The last day of the year! Now to ‘take stock’. I have just finished, and balanced exactly my money matters (within a deficit of 2s. 8d. with which I left London). Now for the moral and historical. See the last volume for the beginning of the year. How well I remember the last day last year. Does she? How we did and sorted accounts till the chimes,—and then leant together 101out of the window in our new house fresh with plans and hopes, saying so hopefully,

“Dec. 31, 1861. The last day of the year! Time to ‘take stock’. I’ve just wrapped up and balanced my finances exactly (with a shortfall of 2s. 8d. that I took with me from London). Now, onto the moral and historical. Check the last volume for the start of the year. How well I remember the last day of last year. Does she? How we sorted through our accounts until the chimes—and then leaned together out of the window in our new house, full of plans and hopes, saying so hopefully, 101

‘And may the New Year cherish

All the hopes that now are bright.’

And now truly almost,

And now, really almost,

‘For all my earthly hopes this (year) did kill.’

It is almost dreadful to look back and see how this book opens with a jest. How full of joke and spirit all seems! The ‘deep waters’ have come this year as never before. But it is a strange wild comfort to find in myself so much capacity for suffering. I had always despised myself as a weak shallow nature, to leave others to suffer and escape with a laugh....

It’s almost terrifying to look back and see how this book starts with a joke. Everything seems so filled with humor and energy! The ‘deep waters’ have come this year like never before. But it’s a strange, wild comfort to find that I have so much capacity for suffering. I always looked down on myself for being weak and shallow, leaving others to suffer while I laughed and walked away....

(Wrote one last letter to Frid ^[23] tonight—for her birthday tomorrow. Weak? I think not.)

(Wrote one last letter to Frid ^[23] tonight—for her birthday tomorrow. Weak? I don’t think so.)

Well, now to ‘take stock’:

Well, now to evaluate:

The opening of the year, bright, clear, hopeful. Octavia’s visit to the north, but that no real break. Our delight in our new house,—its quiet and peace. Some disappointment is not letting, but that very endurable. No bar to happiness....

The start of the year was bright, clear, and full of hope. Octavia’s trip to the north didn’t really provide a break. We’re thrilled with our new house — it’s so quiet and peaceful. There’s some disappointment in not moving, but it’s very manageable. It doesn’t stop us from being happy...

Then the return of Frid and Florence. My unwilling acquaintance ripening gradually into love for Frid, called forth perhaps first by her great love for me.

Then the return of Frid and Florence. My reluctant friendship slowly blossoming into love for Frid, possibly sparked first by her deep affection for me.

Then our glorious Whitsuntide at Hurst,—Octa and I. The few days (Thursday to Tuesday) pure unmixed heart sunshine. Purer and deeper if possible than that of Wales.

Then our wonderful Pentecost at Hurst,—Octa and I. The few days (Thursday to Tuesday) of pure, unfiltered happiness. Even purer and deeper, if that’s possible, than that of Wales.

Then the strange double summons on May 21st., she to Mary Harris, I to the O’Briens. Coming like a thunderbolt on our week, but accepted by both obediently and willingly. Together to London. Then my mission to Tufnell Park. The hurried tea, the night mail, the parting hand pressure as the train moved, ‘in the sure and certain hope’—is it blasphemous so to use the words? I think not. There was a glorious churchlike solemnity always on our love. Well!—then the five months’ parting,—hard it seemed then, but painless—heaven—to what came after.

Then the strange double invitation on May 21st—she to Mary Harris, and I to the O’Briens. It hit us like a lightning bolt during our week, but we both accepted it willingly and without hesitation. Off to London together. Then my mission to Tufnell Park. The rushed tea, the night train, the firm handshake as the train pulled away, ‘in the sure and certain hope’—is it wrong to use those words? I don’t think so. Our love always had a wonderful church-like solemnity to it. Well!—then came the five months apart—it felt tough at the time, but it was painless—heaven—compared to what came after.

Perhaps I am not yet meant to see the ‘why’ of all that followed.... We seemed so helpful heavenwards to each other. Never seemed our love truer, deeper, purer,—I know though now that mine could be all three.

Perhaps I'm not meant to understand the 'why' of everything that happened next.... We seemed to lift each other up to heaven. Our love never seemed more genuine, deeper, or purer—I know now that mine could be all three.

Yet with all this wondering, I do and have felt most solemnly.solemnly. Surely it is best. ‘We shall see in Heaven why it could not be otherwise.’

Yet with all this wondering, I do and have felt most for real.solemnly. Surely it is for the best. ‘We will understand in Heaven why it couldn’t be any other way.’

At least, Octavia, you have never had (in me at least) so true and deep and leal a friend as now,—and yet quieter and so stronger.

At least, Octavia, you've never had a friend like me—so genuine, loyal, and deep as I am now—and yet calmer and even stronger.

102And for her—God have her in His holy keeping!

102And for her—may God keep her safe!

I feel some work has been done when I can say as deeply, truly as now that no earthly blessing could seem to me (except relating to my Mother) comparable to her restoration to me (for every feeling of hurt or wound or injury seems merged in deep earnest love ‘beyond words’) yet I am ready, and God helping me able to go through the world—darkened and lightless as it seemed a few weeks ago—and feel it yet my Father’s own world, ‘very good’ yet: ready in it manfully and cheerfully to take up my burden, and again and forever as ‘Christ’s faithful soldier and servant’ to fight manfully till my life’s end—so help me God!”

I feel like some progress has been made when I can honestly say that no earthly blessing, except for those related to my mother, compares to having her back in my life. Every feeling of hurt or pain I have seems to be overshadowed by a deep, earnest love that’s beyond words. Yet, I’m prepared, and with God’s help, I’m able to navigate through the world—dark and lifeless as it seemed just weeks ago—and still feel it’s my Father’s world, “very good” even now. I’m ready to take on my responsibilities manfully and cheerfully, and as “Christ’s faithful soldier and servant,” to fight bravely until the end of my life—so help me God!

103

CHAPTER IX
FIRST EXPERIENCE OF EDINBURGH

It is the great miracle of life—that first glow and uplifting of the soul in touch with the Unseen. “The immediate consciousness of the religious man,” said Hegel, “has in it an infinite worth, because an infinite content.” For the moment it seems as if all the difficulties of life were swept away, as if nothing temporal could matter any more. But if the world at large is to be ennobled and spiritualised by these individual experiences, the inspiration has got to be worked out in “the commonplace clay with which the world provides us.”

It is the amazing miracle of life—that first spark and lift of the soul when connecting with the Unseen. “The immediate awareness of the religious person,” said Hegel, “holds infinite value because it contains infinite meaning.” For a moment, it feels like all the challenges of life have been erased, as if nothing temporary can matter anymore. But if the broader world is to be elevated and enlightened by these personal experiences, the inspiration must be shaped in “the ordinary clay that the world gives us.”

And here comes in an all-important point, to which, on the whole, far too little significance has been attached. To some of those who have the vision, Fate gives a tractable, malleable lump of clay, limited in mass, fine in texture, ready to respond to the lightest touch of the potter: and so we get sweet and saintly characters whose lives will bear the minutest inspection—such characters as Maurice and Eugénie de Guérin, or the wonderful family described in Le Récit d’une Soeur. But there are some to whose lot a very different problem falls. The big and rough jobs of the world-spirit have to be tackled somehow. There are unwieldy masses of clay, full of grit and impurities, masses that do not seem to respond to the creative impulse at all. Rough handling, bold tunnelling may be required; and if it be true,—as it is—that the first beauty of the spiritual vision seems degraded in any attempt at realization, how much more is this the case when the seer is baffled and thwarted at every turn by the sheer inertness and stupidity of the 104lump, so to speak, when he is forced to resort to almost brutal methods in order to get his idea expressed at all.

And here comes an important point that has generally been given far too little attention. For some people with vision, Fate provides a manageable and flexible lump of clay, limited in size, fine in texture, ready to respond to the lightest touch of the potter: and so we have sweet and saintly characters whose lives can withstand the closest scrutiny—like Maurice and Eugénie de Guérin, or the incredible family described in The Story of a Sister. But there are others who face a very different challenge. The big, tough jobs of the world-spirit have to be addressed somehow. There are unwieldy masses of clay, full of grit and impurities, that seem to resist any creative impulse at all. Rough handling and bold approaches may be needed; and if it is true—as it is—that the initial beauty of the spiritual vision seems diminished in any effort at realization, how much more is this the case when the visionary is frustrated and obstructed at every turn by the sheer heaviness and ignorance of the lump, so to speak, when he is compelled to use almost brutal methods just to express his idea at all.

God gives man the vision and the lump of clay; and many a man who escapes the censure of his fellows gives back the two separately to God, like the talent wrapped in a napkin: some men are privileged to return a piece of work that all eyes can value in a trice: and some, “with aching hands and bleeding feet” have merely blocked out a great conception, have half-unconsciously drafted the rough outline of one of the Almighty’s big schemes, an outline on the details of which smaller souls will be abundantly occupied for generations to come.

God gives people a vision and a lump of clay; and many who avoid criticism from others return the two separately to God, like a talent hidden away: some are lucky enough to present a work that everyone can quickly appreciate; while others, “with aching hands and bleeding feet,” have only sketched out a great idea, having unconsciously drafted a rough outline of one of the Almighty’s grand plans, an outline that will keep lesser souls busy for generations to come.

Before we judge of the finish of a man’s life, before we judge of its correspondence with what he believes to be his inspiration, let us ask—What was the extent of the problem it had to grapple with?—What was the mass and what the condition of the clay?—What, in a word, was the man’s task?

Before we judge the outcome of a man’s life, before we assess how it aligns with what he believes to be his inspiration, let’s ask—What was the magnitude of the problem he faced?—What was the amount and condition of the material he worked with?—What, in short, was the man’s task?

There must, of course, be some sort of affinity, some mesmeric attraction,—even if this should seem to show itself in an actual distaste—between the man and the task. So far as human stupidity makes this possible, we must believe that God Almighty chooses His man, and the work of the Almighty would be singularly limited in range if He chose for His purpose only those whose natural endowments are such as to make them an unqualified credit to any cause they may espouse.

There must, of course, be some kind of connection, some magnetic attraction—even if it seems to come across as an actual dislike—between the person and the task. As far as human foolishness allows, we have to believe that God chooses His person, and the work of the Almighty would be quite limited in scope if He only selected those whose natural gifts make them a perfect fit for any cause they support.

All this must be specially borne in mind in judging the subsequent life of S. J.-B. We are bound, of course, to ask how she worked out in life this beautiful vision of her adolescence—bound to ask how she realized in practice the “infinite (potential) worth and content” of that first radiant consciousness; but before we attempt to answer the question, we must take into full account the extent and the difficulty of the task that fell to her share, and we must give full weight to the natural attributes which were the tools placed at her disposal.

All of this must be especially considered when evaluating the later life of S. J.-B. We are inevitably led to ask how she brought to life the beautiful vision of her youth—how she realized in practice the “infinite (potential) worth and content” of that initial radiant awareness; but before we try to answer that question, we need to fully acknowledge the scope and difficulty of the task she faced, and we must give due credit to the natural qualities that were the tools available to her.

It is clear that there was about her a doggedness, a high-handedness, a disregard of tradition, an actual—if superficial—roughness, 105which are not common qualities among the highly-educated of either sex, and which were never admired in her own. On the other hand, the reader of the foregoing pages will no longer need to be told of her tenderness and sensitiveness—of a capacity for loving and for suffering only commensurate with her power of inspiring love, of incurring suffering. In a sense she was a born fighter, but it is a very nice question how far she enjoyed a fight. Thousands of times throughout life she might truly have repeated the extract from her diary quoted on p. 46:

It’s obvious that she had a stubbornness, arrogance, and a disregard for tradition, along with a roughness that, while superficial, isn’t typical among well-educated people of either gender, and wasn’t ever admired in her circle. However, anyone who has read the earlier pages will already know about her tenderness and sensitivity—her ability to love and suffer was directly proportional to her capacity to inspire love and endure pain. In some ways, she was a natural fighter, but it's debatable how much she actually enjoyed the fight. Throughout her life, she could have often repeated the excerpt from her diary mentioned on p. 46:

“This brought down an awful storm of wonder, reasoning, etc., till at length I got off to bed so tired.”

“This led to a overwhelming storm of curiosity, reasoning, and so on, until finally, I went to bed so exhausted.”

The diary continues after the extract quoted in the last chapter:

The diary continues after the excerpt mentioned in the last chapter:

“And now to turn to the outer facts of life.

“And now to turn to the external realities of life.

Here I am, my London College life over, with all its pleasures, all its cares, all its responsibilities, all its glorious delight at times.

Here I am, my time at college in London is done, with all its fun, all its worries, all its duties, and all its amazing moments at times.

Ten terms have I kept,—ten passed since the beginning of that second volume of mine! How sorrowfully meagre seems the record. Yet ‘the world could scarcely contain’ what might have been written.

Ten terms have I maintained—ten since I started that second volume of mine! How disappointingly thin this record appears. Yet 'the world could barely hold' what could have been written.

My rooms in Nottingham Place given up (first and second floors let to Vs.). The world before me. Alice only bound to me. My life in Scotland to begin whenever rested. Wants sufficient resolution to make that ‘when.’ Yet I expect very needful.

My rooms in Nottingham Place have been rented out (first and second floors let to Vs.). The world is open to me. Alice is the only one tied to me. My life in Scotland will start whenever I’m rested. I just need enough determination to decide when that will be. But I expect that it will be necessary.

I suppose the shock to my whole being of the last three months could not be easily reckoned. Two months today since I left N.P.!

I guess it’s hard to measure the shock I've felt over the last three months. It's been two months today since I left N.P.!

Again the burden has been lightened since my resolve (how inadequately worked out!) of Sunday night. Not only Watch, but Work and wait!...

Again the load has been eased since my determination (how poorly thought out!) of Sunday night. Not just Watch, but Work and wait!...

By-the-bye, Frid’s lovely Christmas gift,—Christ on the Cross. The Child Christ and verses (her’s?)

By the way, Frid's beautiful Christmas gift—Christ on the Cross. The Child Christ and verses (hers?)

‘The love that brings salvation

Shall at last prevail!’

Amen.”

Amen.

“My life in Scotland to begin whenever rested.”

“My life in Scotland will begin whenever I’m rested.”

It is not easy to say what induced S. J.-B. to seek farther education in Scotland, except that she was anxious to extend her experience in every possible way. A few 106years later, thanks to the efforts of Mrs. Crudelius, Professor Masson, Miss Louisa Stevenson, and others, the University Classes for Women at Shandwick Place were successfully started, but in 1862 there is no reason to think women were better off in Edinburgh than in any other town of the same size. A report seems to have gone forth, however, of the superior advantages offered by some institution, and S. J.-B. went north—accompanied by her faithful maid, Alice—full of hope and ambition. On her last night at home, by an interesting coincidence, she heard a sermon that impressed her on the text: “They have no changes: therefore they fear not God.”

It's hard to pinpoint exactly what motivated S. J.-B. to pursue further education in Scotland, other than her desire to broaden her experiences in every way possible. A few years later, thanks to the efforts of Mrs. Crudelius, Professor Masson, Miss Louisa Stevenson, and others, the Women’s University Classes at Shandwick Place were successfully established, but in 1862, there’s no reason to believe women had better opportunities in Edinburgh than in any other city of comparable size. However, it seems a report circulated about the superior advantages offered by some institution, prompting S. J.-B. to head north—accompanied by her loyal maid, Alice—filled with hope and ambition. On her last night at home, by an intriguing coincidence, she heard a sermon that resonated with her, based on the text: “They have no changes: therefore they fear not God.”

The link that bound her with the world on which she was entering was of the slightest. Mrs. Burn Murdoch (née Miss Dora Monck Mason) was an old schoolfellow, a contemporary of Caroline Jex-Blake, and the traveller carried with her an introduction to Miss Margaret Orr, sister of Captain (now General) Orr who afterwards married one of the Norfolk cousins, Miss Henrietta Cubitt. In these acquaintanceships—both of which were to ripen into lifelong friendships—S. J.-B. was very fortunate; but as far as the immediate object of the pilgrimage was concerned, she was destined to bitter disappointment.

The connection that linked her to the world she was entering was minimal. Mrs. Burn Murdoch (née Miss Dora Monck Mason) was an old schoolmate, a peer of Caroline Jex-Blake, and the traveler brought along an introduction to Miss Margaret Orr, sister of Captain (now General) Orr, who later married one of the Norfolk cousins, Miss Henrietta Cubitt. In these relationships—both of which would grow into lifelong friendships—S. J.-B. was quite fortunate; however, regarding the immediate purpose of the journey, she was meant to face deep disappointment.

Here is her own account of her first lesson:

“Then went in to the Arithmetic class. Found the first division doing Proportion! And, oh, such teaching! First question:—‘If cloth is bought for 2s. a yard, at what price must it be sold to gain 25 per cent?’ ... exhortation following in this style,—‘Now say and exameen carefully’ (broad Scotch) ‘I think ye’ll find it need consideration, etc.’ ‘It’s not quite a deerect question, etc., etc.’ ‘Now what will be the third terrm?’ ‘Stand up the ladies who can answer. What, Miss McCreechie! I think ye’ll hardly tell me, but ye can try, etc., etc.’ And, sure enough, long took this abstruse question to solve.

“Then I went into the Arithmetic class. I found the first group working on Proportion! And, oh, what teaching! First question:—‘If cloth is bought for 2 shillings a yard, at what price must it be sold to make a 25 percent profit?’ ... then the teacher would say things like,—‘Now pay attention and think carefully’ (broad Scottish) ‘I think you’ll find this requires some thought, etc.’ ‘It’s not exactly a straightforward question, etc., etc.’ ‘Now what will be the third term?’ ‘Stand up if you can answer, ladies. What about you, Miss McCreechie! I doubt you’ll be able to tell me, but you can give it a try, etc., etc.’ And sure enough, it took a long time to solve this complicated question.

And such a lesson! No explaining,—some scolding, some shouting,—a good deal of cry and small wool. Then he came to me. ‘Can ye do proportion?’ ‘Yes (!) I want to do Algebra.’ ‘Ay,—but that’ll be Friday. But do ye know Fractions?’ I intimated an idea that I did. He didn’t seem at all to believe it,—‘did I understand them?’ I felt rather absurd and hypocritical, and again said I did rather decidedly. However not a bit would he 107believe me,—gave me (as a severe test, I suppose) ¾ x ⅝ to do and explain. Well,—did it! ‘But why?’ I am sure I shall always hereafter have pity on unfortunate examinees pounced upon. The whole thing seemed so absurd,—I was so annoyed,annoyed,—it seemed so silly standing up by that imp of a Sandy with a slate,—that I very nearly failed to give any rational explanation. However I did somewhat, and he had rather grudgingly to grant, ‘Ay, I see ye know it.’ Then, when I asked him about the Algebra, it seemed he had none but quite beginners (don’t I pity them?) and ‘it wasn’t his subject’! in fact, clearly enough he didn’t know as much as I did. Amazed at my astounding erudition, ‘Where had I learned?’ ‘Oh, in England.’ ‘Ay?’ (very surprised) ‘the English gairls generally come very bad at Arithmetic,—we’ve one just now doesn’t know her tables.’ I laughed out. ‘Well, you mustn’t take her for a specimen.’ He seemed to think that the national average! ‘Ay, but most we’ve had are very bad at it,’ very resolutely. He must be a good judge by the specimen I saw. Well, he kept hovering round me as a sort of strange animal, and told me how the girls changed every year, and how he went through from the First Rules to Decimals as the ne plus ultra.”

And what a lesson it was! No explanations—just some scolding, some shouting—a lot of noise and little substance. Then he came over to me. “Do you know about proportions?” “Yes! I want to learn Algebra.” “Yeah, but that will be on Friday. But do you know about fractions?” I implied that I did. He didn’t really seem to believe me—“Do you understand them?” I felt kind of ridiculous and insincere, so I insisted that I did. Still, he wouldn’t believe me at all—he gave me a tough question (I suppose as a test): ¾ x ⅝ to solve and explain. Well, I did it! “But why?” I’m sure I’ll always feel for those unfortunate students caught off guard. The whole situation felt so ridiculous—I was so annoyed standing there next to that impish Sandy with a slate—that I almost couldn’t provide any logical explanation. But I managed a bit, and he reluctantly admitted, “Yeah, I see you know it.” Then when I asked him about Algebra, it turned out he only had materials for complete beginners (I really feel for them) and said, “It’s not my area!” In fact, it was clear he didn’t know as much as I did. Surprised by my impressive knowledge, he asked, “Where did you learn?” “Oh, in England.” “Oh?” (very surprised) “The English girls usually struggle with arithmetic—we’ve got one right now who doesn’t know her times tables.” I laughed. “Well, you shouldn’t take her as a representative.” He seemed to think that was the national standard! “Yeah, but most of the ones we’ve had are really poor at it,” he insisted firmly. He must be a good judge based on the example I saw. He kept circling around me like a strange animal, telling me how the girls changed every year, and how he went through everything from the Basic Rules to Decimals as the ne plus ultra.

Clearly there was nothing to be gained here, so next morning she “explained and apologised” to the Principal, and found him “very nice and pleasant.” Her first impulse was to go straight back to London (in fact arrangements were made for her to live with Miss Wodehouse and study at Bedford College) but in the end wiser counsels prevailed. That arithmetic class was not the high-water mark of Edinburgh achievement even as regarded the education of its women. S. J.-B. made the acquaintance of Miss Blyth, who introduced her to Mr. Begbie, Miss de Dreux and others, so she settled down to a varied course of work, living comfortably in lodgings with Alice to “do for her.” To Mr. Begbie she expresses her gratitude over and over again.

Clearly, there was nothing to be gained here, so the next morning she “explained and apologized” to the Principal and found him “very nice and pleasant.” Her first instinct was to head straight back to London (in fact, arrangements were made for her to live with Miss Wodehouse and study at Bedford College), but in the end, wiser advice prevailed. That arithmetic class was not the peak of Edinburgh's achievements, even regarding the education of its women. S. J.-B. met Miss Blyth, who introduced her to Mr. Begbie, Miss de Dreux, and others, so she settled into a varied course of work, living comfortably in lodgings with Alice to “take care of her.” To Mr. Begbie, she expresses her gratitude time and again.

“Mathematics not much with S. In answer to Miss de Dreux told the truth. They so nice sensible and honest,—teachers born, ‘without respect of persons’. Mr. Begbie glad to hear truth,—promises me a better far tomorrow. Mr. Weisse a good teacher,—right good. German less formidable than I expected.”

"Math isn't great with S. In response to Miss de Dreux, I told the truth. They're really nice, sensible, and honest—teachers by nature, 'without respect for persons.' Mr. Begbie is happy to hear the truth and promises me a much better tomorrow. Mr. Weisse is a good teacher—really good. German is less intimidating than I thought."

One gathers from the letters that she made an extraordinarily vivid impression on her teachers: several of them refused to take fees, and Mr. Begbie persisted in his refusal.

One can tell from the letters that she made a remarkably strong impression on her teachers: several of them refused to accept payment, and Mr. Begbie continued to decline.

108“Miss de Dreux said my coming and work had given her a fresh impetus and help forward. Isn’t that nice?”

108“Miss de Dreux said that my arrival and efforts have given her a new boost and support. Isn’t that great?”

On the whole these first months in Edinburgh though she talks afterwards of their “grey pain,” were perhaps the high-water mark of S. J.-B.’s life as regards sheer balance and beauty of living. She was having, it is true, no physical recreation, but, apart from that, her faculties were all called equally into play. She was working steadily and hard, chiefly at her beloved mathematics: her wider reading included Jane Eyre, Le Juif Errant and Aids to Faith: she was profoundly interested in religious problems and conscientiously attended the churches of the best-known Edinburgh ministers: she was happy in her friendships, and still more in the passing beauty of her relation to her Mother: above all, the flame of her religious life—in which was almost merged at this time her devotion to Miss Octavia Hill—was burning with a clearness that made it easy to ignore the little jars and frictions. Even politics were not crowded out. “Daddy is here,” says Mrs. Jex-Blake in one of her letters, “and says, ‘Tell dearest Sophy I would not have the Times, which she makes such excellent use of, given up on any account.’”

Overall, these first few months in Edinburgh, although she later talks about their “grey pain,” were probably the peak of S. J.-B.’s life in terms of balance and the beauty of living. It’s true she wasn’t getting any physical activity, but besides that, all her abilities were fully engaged. She was working steadily and hard, mainly on her beloved mathematics: her broader reading included Jane Eyre, The Wandering Jew, and Aids to Faith: she was deeply interested in religious issues and made a conscientious effort to attend the churches of the most well-known ministers in Edinburgh: she was happy in her friendships and even more in the fleeting beauty of her relationship with her Mother: above all, the passion of her spiritual life—in which her devotion to Miss Octavia Hill was almost intertwined at this time—was shining with a clarity that made it easy to overlook the small annoyances and tensions. Even politics weren’t neglected. “Daddy is here,” Mrs. Jex-Blake says in one of her letters, “and says, ‘Tell dearest Sophy I would not have the Times, which she makes such excellent use of, given up on any account.’”

One cannot read the record of this period of her life without feeling that it was mainly here and now that her character was made,—that it was the resolute determination with which she took to work and stuck to it as the remedy for intolerable heartache—that enabled her in later years to bear the brunt of all she came through.

One can't read the account of this part of her life without sensing that this is where her character was shaped. It was the strong determination with which she threw herself into work and committed to it as a way to cope with unbearable heartache that helped her handle everything she faced in later years.

It is interesting to hear what she herself has to say about the various elements in her life referred to above:

It’s interesting to hear what she has to say about the different aspects of her life mentioned above:

“There never was such a book as Jane Eyre—of its kind. Talk of ‘finding’—that finds me through and through continually. How people dare speak ill of such a book,—I suppose they simply can’t understand it. Its grand steadfastness and earnestness and purity, is something glorious. I read and re-read it as I never could another novel, and how it helps one!”

“There's never been a book like Jane Eyre—in its own way. The idea of ‘finding’—it resonates with me deeply all the time. I don’t understand how people dare to speak poorly of such a book—I guess they just can’t grasp it. Its remarkable steadfastness, sincerity, and purity are truly inspiring. I read and re-read it in a way I never could with any other novel, and it really helps!”

Again:

“Aids to Faith put into my trunk by that dear old Mother who in her weaker moment entertains an uncomfortable kind of desire to proselytize me,—and yet can’t be quite dissatisfied.

“Aids to Faith placed in my trunk by that beloved old Mother who, in her weaker moments, has an unsettling urge to convert me,—and yet can't feel completely unhappy.

109Immensely interested in Aids to Faith. Read Cook’s Ideology and Subscription, Brown’s ‘Inspiration,’ and am reading Mansel’s ‘Miracles.’ The last gives me a glimpse of light and clearness I never had before. As far as I have read (and remember Essays and Reviews, which I must get) I think this side has it. As to Ideology I don’t understand it and don’t like to take the whole account from the adverse side (though there seems great fairness and scholarlike equity). As to subscription, I think Cook has it,—I never could heartily sympathize with the other position, though I know it is held by quite good and honest men. I suppose one real question might arise,—Who is to determine the real sense of the Church? For doubtless very grave doubts are found among equally good men.

109I'm really interested in Aids to Faith. I read Cook’s Ideology and Subscription, Brown’s ‘Inspiration,’ and I'm currently reading Mansel’s ‘Miracles.’ The last one gives me a sense of clarity and insight that I've never had before. So far, from what I’ve read (and I need to get Essays and Reviews), I think this perspective has a lot to offer. When it comes to Ideology, I don't get it and I'm not comfortable taking the whole viewpoint from the opposing side (even though it seems very fair and scholarly). Regarding subscription, I think Cook's argument stands—I've never fully agreed with the other side, even though I know it’s supported by decent and honest people. One important question might come up—who gets to decide the true meaning of the Church? Because there are definitely serious doubts among equally good individuals.

As to ‘Inspiration,’ though I like the Essay, I hold more with E. and R. a good deal. Most of all with Coleridge as quoted in Aids,—‘what finds me’ is its own witness, but why impose upon me what is not, because bound in the same covers?”

As for ‘Inspiration,’ I like the Essay, but I agree more with E. and R. Quite a bit, especially with Coleridge as quoted in Aids—‘what finds me’ is its own proof, but why should I be forced to accept what isn’t, just because it’s in the same book?

One finds among her papers brief notes of sermons by Rainy, Candlish, Guthrie and Pulsford, of whom the last appealed to her most.

One finds among her papers brief notes of sermons by Rainy, Candlish, Guthrie, and Pulsford, with Pulsford being the one who appealed to her the most.

“The prayers are what I can’t manage in the Scottish kirk. ‘Other people’s’ need too much effort to approve or disapprove to leave your spirit free to pray. I find more and more the value and rest of the Liturgy.... Saw Unitarian chapel. Shall I go? Don’t expect to be in near such real sympathy as with Church of England. Octa always said so. Bless her!”

“The prayers are what I can’t handle in the Scottish church. Other people's needs take too much effort to approve or disapprove, which doesn't allow your spirit to pray freely. I'm finding more and more the value and rest of the Liturgy... I saw a Unitarian chapel. Should I go? I don’t expect to feel as much real connection there as with the Church of England. Octa always said that. Bless her!”

For many reasons she was anxious to bring herself into line with the orthodox; she accuses herself of being too ready for an argument with her Calvinistic friends (what earnest spirit is not too ready for an argument at her age?) and at this time she read the Gospels carefully through “with a fresh mind,” taking notes that might have a bearing on dogma. If it distressed her to arrive at an unorthodox conclusion, this was mainly because such a conclusion seemed to separate her from those she loved best.

For many reasons, she was eager to align herself with the traditional beliefs; she criticized herself for being too quick to argue with her Calvinist friends (what passionate person isn't a bit too eager for a debate at her age?). During this time, she read the Gospels thoroughly “with a fresh perspective,” taking notes that could relate to doctrine. If coming to an unorthodox conclusion upset her, it was primarily because such a conclusion felt like it would distance her from the people she cared about the most.

In the meantime she had made the acquaintance of Mr. Pulsford, and had called to have a talk with him about her difficulties.

In the meantime, she had met Mr. Pulsford and had stopped by to chat with him about her challenges.

“Much helpful sympathy and no horror of my questionings (how helpful that is!) but not much direct word gain. I suppose it must be lived out. He clearly does hold the Trinity, yet not, I think, as some do. Certainly not the vicarious Atonement. He uses nearly 110Maurice’s words,—‘To present humanity perfect to God.’ (I think they are Maurice’s.) He believes Christ the man to have been God, but at first in His manhood unconscious of His Godhead. This seems to me very questionable and not clear. However, as I said—and he agreed thoroughly—not being a question of spirit but of history, it is not vital to me now, and living and desiring to know, we shall know.

“There's a lot of helpful sympathy and no horror about my questions (which is really helpful!), but not much concrete insight. I guess it has to be lived out. He definitely believes in the Trinity, but not like some other people do. He surely doesn't believe in the vicarious Atonement. He uses almost the same words as Maurice—‘To present humanity perfect to God.’ (I think those are Maurice’s words.) He believes that Christ the man was God, but initially, in His humanity, He wasn't aware of His divinity. I find that idea pretty questionable and unclear. However, like I said—and he completely agreed—since this is a question of history, not of the spirit, it’s not essential for me right now. As we live and want to know, we shall know.

He again spoke strongly of not talking to people who can’t understand.”

He strongly mentioned avoiding conversations with people who can’t understand."

The contrast of the next paragraph in the diary is irresistible:

“A mouse caught at last. Odd, how it annoys me! ‘Shall I drown it, ma’am?’ ‘Oh, let it eat its cheese first!’ How Octa’d laugh! Faugh!—poor little thing, how it struggled for its life,—and how my heart beat! It was some courage to resolve it shouldn’t suffer longer than need be.”

“A mouse caught at last. It’s strange how it bothers me! ‘Should I drown it, ma’am?’ ‘Oh, let it eat its cheese first!’ How Octa would laugh! Ugh!—poor little thing, how it fought for its life,—and how my heart raced! It took some courage to decide it shouldn’t suffer any longer than necessary.”

About her friends she has much to say as usual. On March 31st she writes to Cousin Ellie:

About her friends, she has a lot to say as usual. On March 31st, she writes to Cousin Ellie:

“Now for friends. I think I really may put that word to Dora Burn Murdoch and Margaret Orr, short as the time seems in days since I have known them; but then days sometimes go for weeks and they have both been so kind to me. ‘I was a stranger and they took me in.’ [Dora’s] charity for others is something quite beautiful, her unconsciousness of other people’s inferiority to her,—her width of thought, and power of understanding those differing most widely from herself—most admirable. You never hear her by any chance say a harsh thing, a spiteful thing or a narrow thing,—neither do you ever hear a weak one.”

“Now about friends. I really think I can call Dora Burn, Murdoch, and Margaret Orr my friends, even though it hasn’t been that long since I met them; but time can feel different, and they've both been so incredibly kind to me. ‘I was a stranger, and they welcomed me in.’ Dora’s charity towards others is truly beautiful. She doesn’t see herself as better than anyone else—her open-mindedness and ability to understand people who are very different from her is really admirable. You never hear her say anything harsh, spiteful, or narrow-minded—nor do you ever hear anything weak from her.”

She speaks many times in her diary of the rest and refreshment derived from visits to Mrs. Burn Murdoch. But she was working too hard, and Mrs. Jex-Blake’s letters at this time take on an even deeper note than usual of love, appreciation and solicitude. Varieties of note-paper were not great in those days, so S. J.-B. had possessed herself of a large quantity of common brown envelopes (similar to those used for the delivery of telegrams) in order that her Mother might see at a glance—without putting on her spectacles!—whether the postman had brought the all-important thing. Many are Mrs. Jex-Blake’s references to “the precious brown envelope,” “the dear brown letters”; and well might she prize them. 111Indeed one does not know which to admire more,—the painstaking labour with which S. J.-B., at the end of a hard day’s work, strove to keep her Mother informed of all she was thinking and doing and trying to do—or the painstaking labour with which her Mother strove to understand and sympathize. She writes at great length about Jane Eyre, about the higher education of women, and she enters into her daughter’s religious arguments with a largeness of soul that is simply uplifting:

She often mentions in her diary the rest and refreshment she gets from visiting Mrs. Burn Murdoch. But she was working really hard, and Mrs. Jex-Blake’s letters during this time express even more love, appreciation, and concern than usual. There weren’t many kinds of stationery back then, so S. J.-B. had a large supply of plain brown envelopes (similar to those used for delivering telegrams) so her mother could easily see—without needing her glasses!—whether the postman had delivered the all-important mail. Mrs. Jex-Blake frequently talks about “the precious brown envelope” and “the dear brown letters,” and it’s understandable why she valued them so much. Indeed, it’s hard to decide which is more admirable—the careful effort S. J.-B. put into keeping her mother updated on everything she thought, did, and tried to do after a long day of work, or the diligent effort her mother made to understand and empathize. She writes extensively about Jane Eyre, the higher education of women, and engages in her daughter’s religious debates with a generosity of spirit that is truly uplifting.

“I expect,” she says, “I quoted in commas the very words you wrote about the Atonement. The rest was, of course, my able and learned commentary. I think I did take your words in your sense, though I couldn’t help their expanding—you will perhaps say, narrowing,—in my view. He will guide us both into all truth.”

“I expect,” she says, “I quoted the exact words you wrote about the Atonement. The rest was, of course, my insightful and educated commentary. I think I did understand your words as you intended, though I couldn’t help but let their expanding—you might say, narrowing—happen in my perspective. He will lead us both into all truth.”

The following extracts give some idea how these beautiful letters go on:

The following excerpts provide a glimpse of how these beautiful letters continue:

May 6th. “I don’t think I ever had a letter from you that I did not enjoy and enter into sympathy with, because I never will open them till I can enjoy them. Sometimes one has come at dinner time with others when Mr. O. has been here, and he has said,—‘Why don’t you open the brown letter? I know it interests you.’ I answer, ‘Just because I can’t fully enjoy it’.”

May 6th. “I don’t think I’ve ever received a letter from you that I didn’t enjoy and connect with, because I won’t open them until I can enjoy them. Sometimes one arrives at dinner time along with others when Mr. O. is here, and he says, ‘Why don’t you open the brown letter? I know it interests you.’ I reply, ‘Just because I can’t fully enjoy it.’”

May 7th. “You have a glorious field of usefulness before you. No one can guess to what extent you may be permitted to be useful to the generations to come. Plod on; expect rough waves that seem ready to overwhelm your best energies, and almost quench life; but One sitteth above the water floods Who will always bear you through.”

May 7th. “You have an amazing opportunity to make a difference ahead of you. No one knows how much you might be able to help future generations. Keep pushing forward; expect tough times that may feel like they’ll drown your best efforts and nearly extinguish your spirit; but there is Someone above the storms who will always see you through.”

May 8th. “My heart’s desire is that you should know the truth of God, whether it be what I believe or not, and that I should know it too.” (Previously she had written,—“I was thinking today how surely God would guide you into all truth,—this text confirming the thought,—‘If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God.’)

May 8th. “I truly want you to know the truth of God, regardless of whether I believe it or not, and I want to know it too.” (Earlier she had written,—“I was thinking today how certainly God would lead you to all truth,—this verse confirming that thought,—‘If anyone is willing to do His will, he will know whether the teaching is from God.’)

I think my cup of blessing would be fuller than I could bear did we two fully agree on that which must be all-absorbing and by far the most interesting of subjects. Though C. and I essentially agree, we cannot communicate with each other—our natures are so different. I don’t think I do her justice or fully understand her.”

I believe my cup of blessings would be overflowing if we two completely agreed on what must be the most captivating and all-consuming topic. Even though C. and I mostly see eye to eye, we struggle to communicate—our personalities are just too different. I don’t think I truly do her justice or fully grasp who she is.

May 9th. “We“We do well to struggle against that weary powerless feeling, because, given way to, it might overcome all power of energy, 112but I quite believe it is sometimes part of appointed discipline, and it is no use to quarrel with ourselves for it. Still I do incline to believe in your present case it proceeds from exhaustion of the nervous system, occasioned by a shock struggled against with all your power. You will be better when Dora is back, and you get real interchange of thought and loving sympathy. God bless her for giving it to my darling. Try not to allow yourself to think on getting up,—‘How long will it be before I lie down to rest again?’ Remember you desire to give yourself to service, though not so active just now, for others. Remember as a help how many bless you for having sped them on their way. Your want just now is someone to be helped and braced for usefulness.”

May 9th. “We“We need to fight against that exhausted, drained feeling because, if we give in, it might take away all our energy. 112 However, I believe it's sometimes part of the process we're meant to go through, and there's no point in being hard on ourselves for it. Still, I do think that in your case, it comes from the fatigue of your nervous system after facing a shock you fought against with all your strength. You'll feel better when Dora is back, and you can have genuine exchanges of thoughts and affection. God bless her for providing that comfort to my dear one. Try not to think about getting up and wondering, ‘How long until I can lie down and rest again?’ Remember that you want to be of service to others, even if you're not as active right now. Think about how many people are grateful for the help you've given them along their journey. What you need right now is someone to support and empower for usefulness.”

(“Never fail,” writes Mr. Jex-Blake, “to tell me of any case you know of like that of the suffering governess; it is blessed to receive in such cases, but doubly blessed to give.”)

(“Never hesitate,” writes Mr. Jex-Blake, “to let me know about any case you come across like that of the suffering governess; it is a blessing to receive in such situations, but even more of a blessing to give.”)

May 10th. “Own darling, you write me such charming long letters, you quite spoil me.... I suppose your work in Edinburgh has been very intense while it lasted, and proportionately exhausting,—and then you don’t, as a schoolboy does, get any reaction the other way. You have no one to play with,—no positive recreation. I always think the games and perpetual ‘outings’ in public schools such a fine arrangement; and then an Oxonian or Cantab. has his boat or his ride, My darling has positively nothing. Don’t little one overwork herself: such concentration of thought as you give in one hour is very exhausting.”

May 10th. “My dear, you write me such lovely long letters, you really spoil me.... I imagine your work in Edinburgh has been very intense while it lasted, and understandably exhausting,—and then you don’t, like a schoolboy, get any break from it. You have no one to hang out with,—no real fun. I always think the games and constant outings at public schools are such a great setup; and then an Oxonian or Cantab. has his boat or his ride, but my darling has absolutely nothing. Please don’t overwork yourself, little one: the kind of focus you put into just one hour is really tiring.”

May 11th. “I fear it is impossible for me fully to appreciate your child, and, even had you done differently, I question whether she and I ever would have got at each other, but I quite believe in the noble-heartedness you speak of. I would with avidity seize any opening she offered, but I fear she will not make it. In the present distortion of vision, she is more likely to suppose I am inclined to alienate you from her. Had your’s been a common friendship, I should have thought it possible that ‘Art might conceal too much,’ but she knows you in spite of all your faults and independently of them,—and surely the wine was a messenger of love. You dared not have sent it had you not been bound up in her.”

May 11th. “I fear it’s impossible for me to fully appreciate your daughter, and even if you had acted differently, I wonder if we would ever really connect. However, I truly believe in the noble heart you talk about. I would eagerly take any chance she offered, but I worry she won’t give me one. Right now, with her distorted perspective, she's more likely to think I'm trying to drive a wedge between you two. If your friendship had been ordinary, I might have assumed that 'Art might conceal too much,' but she knows you well despite all your flaws and beyond them—and surely the wine was a gesture of love. You wouldn’t have dared to send it if you weren’t so deeply connected to her.”

On a previous occasion Mrs. Jex-Blake had written on this subject:

On another occasion, Mrs. Jex-Blake had written about this topic:

“How very remarkable and interesting is Mr. Pulsford’s statement about valued friends apparently lost for a time. I had no idea that your’s was a case that ever occurred,—I mean of increased love—a stronger, deeper, truer love: it is really very grand.” “I 113fancy I like ‘Sorrow’ better than ‘Fidelis,’^[24] but the latter is wonderfully your picture. I can scarcely grasp it, though I wonder and admire.”

“How remarkable and interesting is Mr. Pulsford’s statement about valued friends seemingly lost for a time. I had no idea your situation was one that ever happened—I mean of increased love—a stronger, deeper, truer love: it’s really very grand.” “I 113think I like ‘Sorrow’ better than ‘Fidelis,’^[24] but the latter is wonderfully your picture. I can hardly grasp it, though I wonder and admire.”

May 13th. “I have nearly finished Jane Eyre, and like much of it exceedingly. What I object to is the personal handling she allows ... and, grand as her conduct is, she marries a man of very exceptionable conduct, and who to the last had a relish for swearing.... I think she makes St. John very unfairly disagreeable,—his icy coldness very unnatural....”

May 13th. “I’m almost done with Jane Eyre, and I really like a lot of it. What I don’t like is the personal touch she allows ... and, even though her actions are impressive, she ends up marrying a man with really questionable behavior, who, until the end, has a fondness for swearing.... I think she portrays St. John as unfairly unpleasant—his icy coldness feels very unnatural....”

May 15th. “Well, darling, you and I must wait to talk it out about Jane Eyre. I shall never be able to write it out. It appears to me you have built up a wall to knock down.^[25] I don’t at all ask a different code of morals for men and women. But I do wish a woman to be refined and pure, not because I am conventional, but because I think it essential to self-respect and dignity.... I don’t believe high-toned governesses fall in love with their employers.... I think it very cruel upon the race of governesses to put it into people’s heads they are to fall in love. I always, since I took a district in 1836 felt the tenderest, most motherly pity for any misguided girl.... I certainly never did or will read impure things in books or newspapers. I consider familiarity with impurity rubs the bloom off the plum, which never can be restored. Minds differ, some almost enjoy to read queer things. Impurity does not seem to me to find any response in you: you can come in contact and it runs off like quicksilver—leaves no print. I don’t think that is common.”

May 15th. “Well, sweetheart, you and I need to wait to discuss Jane Eyre. I can never seem to put my thoughts into writing. It feels like you've built a wall that needs to come down.^[25] I don’t ask for a different set of morals for men and women. But I do want a woman to be refined and pure, not because I’m traditional, but because it’s crucial for self-respect and dignity.... I don’t believe that respectable governesses fall in love with their employers.... I think it’s very cruel to suggest to governesses that they are meant to fall in love. Ever since I took on my role in 1836, I’ve felt the deepest, most motherly pity for any misguided girl.... I certainly never have nor will read anything inappropriate in books or newspapers. I believe that familiarity with impurity tarnishes the beauty of innocence, which can never be regained. People have different perspectives; some even enjoy reading strange things. Impurity doesn’t seem to resonate with you: you can encounter it and it just slides off like quicksilver—leaving no trace. I don’t think that’s common.”

“A letter from Elinor. She talks of enjoying your letters so much.... I am very glad Plumptre has sent you a testimonial you like. I fully expected he would send (if asked) a very handsome one.

“A letter from Elinor. She mentions how much she enjoys your letters.... I’m really glad Plumptre has sent you a testimonial you like. I totally expected he would send (if asked) a very impressive one.”

The world has many kind hearts, has it not?—none like my own child.”

The world has many kind hearts, doesn't it?—none like my own child.”

And again, talking of a sermon she had heard:

And again, talking about a sermon she had heard:

“I thought of my precious child when he pictured a strong character with exceeding depth of tenderness and gentleness.”

“I thought of my dear child when he imagined a strong character with immense tenderness and gentleness.”

One understands more and more fully the fervour with which S. J.-B. was wont to say in her later years,—“No one ever had such parents as mine!” “How I wish you had known my mother!”

One increasingly understands the passion with which S. J.-B. used to say in her later years, “No one ever had parents like mine!” “How I wish you had known my mother!”

One naturally treats S. J.-B.’s religious life at this time as something apart from her questionings about dogma, for 114indeed the two belonged to different categories of her being. The following is one of the few letters of this period that have been preserved:

One naturally considers S. J.-B.'s religious life during this time as separate from her doubts about dogma, since the two were distinct aspects of her existence. The following is one of the few letters from this period that have been kept:

8 p.m. March 17th, 1862.

“Darling Mother,—I know you care to hear all your child’s thoughts and hopes and feelings,—I know you will not condemn for conceit and egotism what might seem so to other people.

Dear Mom,,—I know you want to hear all your child’s thoughts, hopes, and feelings,—I know you won't judge what might seem like vanity and selfishness to others.

I want to talk to you,—I feel so sure you want to hear. I want to tell you what a glorious Strength and Power has come out of all the sharp pain,—how I feel that I am a better person, a stronger and more real one, than I ever was before....

I want to talk to you—I’m really sure you want to listen. I want to share how amazing strength and power have emerged from all the intense pain—how I feel like I’m a better person, stronger and more authentic than I’ve ever been before....

Some one says that it is ‘not pain undergone but pain accepted’ that bears fruit an hundredfold. You know the acceptance has not been easy,—you know sometimes the flints have cut my feet deep enough, but thank God for two things—I never for any single moment lost the absolute certainty of Infinite Love and Wisdom ‘brooding over the face of the waters,’—the certainty of my Father’s arms around me,—and secondly that no suffering or pain could shake the love that has never been half so strong, so real, so ideal, so unselfish as now. I doubt if I ever half knew what being a friend was before,—I think I have earned the knowledge now—some of it.

Someone says that it’s “not pain endured but pain accepted” that yields a hundredfold return. You know accepting hasn’t been easy—sometimes the sharp edges have cut my feet deep enough, but thank God for two things: first, I never lost the absolute certainty of Infinite Love and Wisdom “brooding over the face of the waters”—the certainty of my Father’s arms around me; and second, that no suffering or pain could shake the love that has never been as strong, as real, as ideal, or as unselfish as it is now. I doubt I ever truly understood what being a friend meant before—I think I’ve earned some of that understanding now.

And, Mother, about my work. I cannot tell you the strong exulting feeling that seems to set God’s seal to my work, in that through all the personal agony I have held firm to that: at no moment, I believe, would I have purchased what I longed for most on earth at the price of that,—that I have felt through all ‘The light may be taken out of my life (and thank God how far that is from being so!) but the object never can!’ Don’t you know how the lines that reminded us of the oath upon our head, that bade us ‘never again our loins untie, or let our torches waste or die’ was the strong helpful thing through it all.

And, Mom, about my work. I can’t express the incredible feeling that confirms my work is meaningful, especially since through all the personal struggles, I’ve remained committed to that: at no point, I believe, would I have traded what I wanted most for anything else—that I’ve realized through everything ‘The light may be taken out of my life (and thank God that’s not the case!) but the goal never can!’ Don’t you remember how the lines that reminded us of the promise we made, that told us ‘never again will we let our guard down, or let our torches fade or die’ were such strong support through it all?

And though I did believe in myself—and thou ever didst believe in me, Mother!—yet so long as my work ‘walked in silken shoon’ and lay side by side with the pleasantest life possible for me, there was a certain thought about fair weather sailing,—a certain (not doubt, but) diffidence in looking on to the time of breakers,—a feeling as of David, ‘I have not proved them.’ But now I feel that I have come to the proof,—that my armour has not failed in the battle,—something the sure happy confidence (farthest of all from presumption) ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.’ You can’t think how it ‘heartened’ me (you know that nice old word?) to find that truly as well as verbally my work does hold the first place....

And although I believed in myself—and you always believed in me, Mom!—as long as my work was coming together nicely and sat alongside the happiest life I could imagine, there was a certain feeling about smooth sailing—a certain, not doubt, but hesitation about facing the upcoming challenges—a feeling like David, ‘I have not proven them.’ But now I feel that I have reached the proof—that my armor hasn’t failed in battle—something that brings me the sure and happy confidence (far from arrogance) ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’ You can’t imagine how it encouraged me (you know that nice old word?) to find that truly as well as literally, my work does hold the top spot....

115I am beginning to have hope, Mother! If I only suffer enough—and I don’t believe mine will ever be a smooth or easy life—I may yet be fit to be the head for which I am looking so earnestly....earnestly....

115I’m starting to feel hopeful, Mom! If I just endure enough—and I doubt that my life will ever be easy or simple—I might still become the leader I’m really trying to find. be earnestly...earnestly....

But all seems centred in the one thought, ‘Lead Thou me on!’—or rather, not ‘me’ but ‘us,’—all the wanderers.

But everything seems focused on a single thought, ‘Lead us on!’—not just ‘me,’ but ‘us,’—all the wanderers.

Yours very lovingly,

Soph.”

Not that S. J.-B. was ever conventional even in her religion. Here is a characteristic extract from the diary of the same period:

Not that S. J.-B. was ever conventional, even with her faith. Here’s a typical excerpt from her diary from that time:

“You never have the common honesty, Jack, in this most private journal (they say hardly anyone has) to put down the thought if it crosses your mind ‘Well, I think I am rather a fine fellow’ or its equivalent. Because it never comes? Oh, dear your precious ‘humility’! I wish Miss W. could look into you:—do you? Not you, you humbug!

“You never have the basic honesty, Jack, in this most private journal (they say hardly anyone does) to write down the thought if it crosses your mind ‘Well, I think I’m quite a great guy’ or something like that. Because it never comes? Oh, your precious ‘humility’! I wish Miss W. could see into you:—do you? Not you, you fraud!

‘Well, but,’ (retorts S. J.-B. accused) ‘I do work with a single purpose,—I have tried very hard, and, am sure, succeeded somewhat in this hard battle of these months,—what is the good of pretending to call myself names? Did not Job ‘maintain his integrity’?

‘Well, but,’ (replies S. J.-B. accused) ‘I do work with a single purpose,—I have tried very hard and I'm sure I've succeeded a bit in this tough battle over these months,—what’s the point of pretending to insult myself? Didn’t Job ‘maintain his integrity’?

You coward! You must skulk behind Job. Looks respectable, does it? Say honestly ‘I do try harder than some people do,’ for in truth I believe that is all your conceit does amount to.

You coward! You have to hide behind Job. It looks respectable, doesn't it? Just say honestly, 'I do try harder than some people do,' because honestly, I think that's all your arrogance adds up to.

I know from my heart I do recognize and reverence holiness and purity as far above mine as Snowden to a mole-hill. And is that conceit? I don’t believe it is. No,—‘Not guilty, S. J.-B.’ Plead boldly, and don’t give in for shamefacedness. And besides you have no right to deny His triumph ‘Who giveth us the victory,’—by fighting modest on the sham. You have won some victories. Thank God quietly, and pressing on to the things before. ‘I press towards the mark.’ God knows—and you know—there are enough to win. Oh, how far away lies doing even what is our ‘duty to do.’ But I don’t know that the realest soundest life limits itself to calling itself ‘miserable sinner.’ Zacchaeus told Christ what he tried to do. He did not rebuke him as man does and say, ‘No, believe yourself utterly vile (for the glory of your Maker?)’

I know deep down that I recognize and respect holiness and purity as being far above my own, like Snowden compared to a molehill. And is that arrogance? I don’t think so. No—“Not guilty, S. J.-B.” Stand firm and don’t back down out of shame. Besides, you have no right to deny His victory “Who gives us the victory,” by pretending to be modest about the fake. You have won some victories. Thank God quietly and keep moving forward to what lies ahead. “I press towards the mark.” God knows—and you know—that there are plenty more to win. Oh, how far away we are from even doing what we’re supposed to do. But I don’t believe that the truest, most authentic life is limited to calling itself a “miserable sinner.” Zacchaeus told Christ what he was trying to do. He didn’t scold him like a man would and say, “No, think of yourself as completely worthless (for the glory of your Maker?)”

There,—go to bed, S. J.-B.”

"Alright, go to bed, S. J.-B."

A few days later she recurs—as often—to the broken friendship:

A few days later she reflects again—just like before—on the broken friendship:

“... Well, I note markedly how, with all this light, all this growth,—respecting the suffering—(and I think all this would have brought a ‘right judgement’ too) I do not swerve one iota from my 116judgement of facts. I cannot conceive it one hairsbreadth more possible that any but a mental cloud can have worked in the way it has,—that under any possible circumstances my child, with her glorious nature and heart, can have acted as her image has....^[26]

“… Well, I clearly notice how, with all this light and growth—considering the suffering—and I believe all this would have led to a ‘right judgment’ too—I do not waver even slightly from my judgment of facts. I can't imagine for a second that anything but a mental fog could have caused things to unfold as they have—that, under any circumstances, my child, with her beautiful nature and heart, could have acted as her image suggests....^[26]

But while I have at last manfully and honestly and cheerily faced the possibility of never seeing her again on earth—while I believe my loins are girded for the way quite irrespective of any future fate regarding her and me—while, having put my hand to the plough, God shall grant me grace never to look back even for her (who, God knows, is far enough before me) never to linger irresolute with thoughts that should and shall urge me to double speed,—yet it is curious how the whole fashion of my life shapes itself with the arrière-pensée of being ready for her ‘at midnight or cock-crowing or in the morning,’—saving with the thought of her as well as myself,—looking at every path as it opens to see that it is wide enough to tread together if she joins me ere its end,—making the most of the working time now that a pause of rest may fall due whenever she comes to claim the ‘moon.’

But while I have finally faced the possibility of never seeing her again on earth—while I believe I'm prepared for whatever lies ahead, regardless of our future—while, having committed myself to my path, I hope I’ll never look back even for her (who, God knows, is far enough ahead of me)—never hesitate with doubts that should push me to move faster,—it’s interesting how my entire life is shaped by the thought of being ready for her ‘at midnight or at dawn or in the morning,’—thinking of her as well as of myself,—looking at every path as it opens to make sure it’s wide enough for us to walk together if she joins me before the end,—making the most of the working time now that a pause for rest may come whenever she arrives to claim the ‘moon.’

And I think, could she see my thoughts, my plans, my work, my resolves, she would not have them otherwise.”

And I think, if she could see my thoughts, my plans, my work, my decisions, she wouldn’t want them any other way.

117

CHAPTER X
GERMANY

It was perhaps well that an interesting new factor came into S. J.-B.’s life at this moment. Miss Elizabeth Garrett (afterwards Mrs. Garrett Anderson, M.D.) had made up her mind to be a doctor, and, in the teeth of many difficulties and much opposition, was striving to obtain the requisite education and prospect of examination. A great effort had been made to get the examinations of London University opened to women, but the resolution (brought forward by Mr. Grote) had been negatived by the casting vote of the chairman—the vehement feeling shown by the opposition being, in the opinion of the proposer, quite out of proportion with the cogency of the arguments brought forward.

It was probably a good thing that an interesting new factor entered S. J.-B.’s life at this moment. Miss Elizabeth Garrett (later Mrs. Garrett Anderson, M.D.) had decided to become a doctor and, despite many challenges and significant opposition, was working hard to get the necessary education and prepare for exams. There had been a strong effort to allow women to take the exams at London University, but the proposal (introduced by Mr. Grote) was rejected by the chairman’s tie-breaking vote—the intense feelings displayed by the opposition seemed, in the opinion of the proposer, completely disproportionate to the strength of the arguments presented.

Miss Garrett had been in correspondence with S. J.-B. for some time as to the nature of the prospects in Edinburgh, in case London University should fail, and after talking the matter over with Mr. Begbie and other friends, S. J.-B. urged her to “come and see.” Small prevision had anyone concerned of all that they were to see in Edinburgh a few years later.

Miss Garrett had been in touch with S. J.-B. for a while about the possibilities in Edinburgh, in case London University didn’t work out. After discussing it with Mr. Begbie and other friends, S. J.-B. encouraged her to “come and see.” No one involved had any idea of what they would witness in Edinburgh a few years later.

“Miss Garrett and her strength!” writes S. J.-B. in her diary on May 19th, “making me break the 10th commandment. She doing Trigonometry, Optics, etc. Running where I crawl!”

“Miss Garrett and her strength!” writes S. J.-B. in her diary on May 19th, “making me break the 10th commandment. She's doing Trigonometry, Optics, etc. Running while I crawl!”

And on the 20th:

“Today Miss Garrett’s business. Wrote about ‘Commission.’ Twice to [Royal] Circus with very sore feet. Mrs. Darts, friend of Lord Ardmillan. Lady Monteith (Lord Advocate). Argyle. Hope she will come. It will be everything to have her to help a little if I can.”

“Today Miss Garrett’s business. Wrote about ‘Commission.’ Twice to [Royal] Circus with very sore feet. Mrs. Darts, friend of Lord Ardmillan. Lady Monteith (Lord Advocate). Argyle. Hope she will come. It will mean everything to have her help a little if I can.”

118“May 29th. E. G. coming tomorrow,—sent her off a telegram this afternoon in case she might stay another day for the report I promised, and so lose tomorrow’s appointment with Balfour, whom I saw today with that splendid man, Begbie, who went down last night and this morning with me, and is to arrange with Newbiggin tonight for an appointment for her. My sore foot quite lame and not helpful for this bustle. However I believe I shall have done a bit of real work for her, and, as I said to Begbie, if there are such people, ready to face such an ordeal let’s help them in God’s name. One great obstacle the (sometimes) ‘faux air’ of consideration for ladies’ delicacy. People don’t seem to see how that is her affair. Besides she has faced it: it’s a day too late.”

118“May 29th. E. G. is coming tomorrow—I sent her a telegram this afternoon just in case she decides to stay another day for the report I promised, which would mean missing tomorrow’s appointment with Balfour. I met with him today along with that amazing guy, Begbie, who traveled down with me last night and this morning. He’s supposed to coordinate with Newbiggin tonight to set up an appointment for her. My sore foot is really bothering me and isn’t helping with all this rush. However, I believe I’ll have done some real work for her. As I mentioned to Begbie, if there are people willing to face such challenges, let’s help them, for goodness' sake. One major hurdle is the (sometimes) false sense of consideration for women’s delicacy. People don’t seem to realize that this is her issue. Besides, she has already faced it; it’s a day too late.”

How familiar all this talk was to become some half dozen years later!

How familiar all this talk would become about six years later!

Miss Garrett remained in Edinburgh for a fortnight, and during that period the canvassing went on. Mr. Burn Murdoch used to say that, when the two young women went about, interviewing great ladies and important citizens, considerable surprise was expressed that Miss Jex-Blake was not the applicant. She was so tall and high-spirited, with great flashing dark eyes, while the real heroine was small and almost pretty, and fair.

Miss Garrett stayed in Edinburgh for two weeks, and throughout that time, the canvassing continued. Mr. Burn Murdoch often remarked that when the two young women went around interviewing prominent ladies and important citizens, many were surprised that Miss Jex-Blake was not the one applying. She was tall and spirited, with striking dark eyes, while the actual heroine was petite and somewhat pretty, with fair features.

Strangely enough, S. J.-B. was not at all fired at this time by Miss Garrett’s example. She meant to be a teacher, and medicine as a profession did not tempt her in the least. She had her doubts even about the value to herself of a University degree in Arts (supposing it could be had!) although Miss Garrett and Miss Emily Davies were both anxious that she should be of their number. “Chiefly I want you to make up your mind to obtain the University degree,” writes Miss Garrett. “You are one of the few who could do so pretty soon, and it would take most women a year and a half or two years to prepare for the Matriculation.”

Strangely enough, S. J.-B. wasn't inspired at all by Miss Garrett’s example at this time. She intended to be a teacher, and the field of medicine didn't interest her in the slightest. She even had doubts about the worth of a University degree in Arts for herself (assuming she could get one!), even though both Miss Garrett and Miss Emily Davies were eager for her to join their ranks. “Mostly I want you to decide to get the University degree,” writes Miss Garrett. “You are one of the few who could achieve that pretty quickly, while it would take most women a year and a half or two years to prepare for the Matriculation.”

In any case the opportunity did not arise. The following letter to Mrs. Burn Murdoch explains the situation:

In any case, the opportunity never came up. The following letter to Mrs. Burn Murdoch explains what happened:

“June 21st, 1862.

Dearest Dora,

Dear Dora,

I do not know whether we are to look upon the result of the Physicians’ meeting most as a defeat or as a triumph,—the motion ‘to consider the question of admitting Miss Garrett’ was negatived 119by 18 votes to 16,—very disappointing as regards immediate results, but very much as a victory for the principle, just as at London University. You see they have not refused to admit,—only postponed the question indefinitely, so that, when time and opinion have been brought to bear, they can again entertain it without inconsistency.

I’m not sure if we should view the outcome of the Physicians’ meeting as a failure or a success. The motion to consider allowing Miss Garrett was rejected by 18 votes to 16, which is really disappointing in terms of immediate results. However, it's also a win for the principle, similar to what happened at London University. They haven’t outright refused admission; they’ve just postponed the issue indefinitely. This way, when the timing and public opinion are right, they can revisit it without appearing inconsistent. 119

In the meantime the expedition to St. Andrews was very successful,—Dr. Day and Principal Tulloch were both warmly favourable, and it seems quite probable that Miss Garrett would be admitted to the University there,—only unfortunately you see there is no medical school there, and so it would be but half a solution to the difficulties as she couldn’t get ‘nice little subjects’^[27] there....

In the meantime, the trip to St. Andrews was very successful—Dr. Day and Principal Tulloch were both very supportive, and it looks quite likely that Miss Garrett would be accepted into the University there—unfortunately, as you can see, there isn't a medical school there, so it would only be a partial solution to the challenges since she wouldn’t be able to get ‘nice little subjects’^[27] there....

I have only just come to anchor after some 36 hours’ incessant trotting about, etc., so I daresay my intellects are ‘even weaker than usual’ as C. A. would say.

I just got back to the dock after about 36 hours of nonstop wandering, so I guess my mind is “even weaker than usual,” as C. A. would say.

I suppose I may now thank you again on paper for all your help, dear Dora. You can’t cough me down so conveniently. You don’t know how much you have helped me through.

I guess I should thank you again in writing for all your help, dear Dora. You can’t just brush me off that easily. You have no idea how much you’ve supported me.

Yours affectly,

S. L. J.-B.S. L. J.-B.”

Previously to this decision, S. J.-B. had published sensible letters on the subject in The Scotsman, The Daily Review and other papers. She also drafted an amusing letter in reply to her own, supposed to have been written by one of the retrogressive “unco guid.”

Before this decision, S. J.-B. had published thoughtful letters on the topic in The Scotsman, The Daily Review, and other newspapers. She also wrote a witty response to her own letter, imagined to be from one of the conservative "unco guid."

“Well, it was grand fun,” she says in her diary, “and, if it had got in, might have played very well; but the chief temptation was the immense fun it would be. E. G. and I both thought we could command our faces. Her sister opposed, but we agreed, ‘No harm. We don’t sign to it,—and it’s what some might say; and, if the Review puts it in, it’s their look-out. It’s so weak, it can’t do harm that way.’way.’ She said, ‘Don’t let me know about it.’ I said she was very much like ‘Tom, steal the apple, and I’ll have half.’

“Well, it was a lot of fun,” she writes in her diary, “and if it had been published, it might have been really good; but the main temptation was how much fun it would be. E. G. and I both thought we could keep a straight face. Her sister was against it, but we agreed, ‘No harm will come of it. We’re not endorsing it,—and it's just what some might say; and if the Review includes it, that’s on them. It’s so weak, it can’t cause any harm that way.way.’ She said, ‘Just don’t tell me about it.’ I told her she was just like ‘Tom, steal the apple, and I’ll take half.’”

Well, we agreed to send it and no harm done. I went to bed. I wasn’t quite content, yet I didn’t see any exact wrong,—and it was such fun!...

Well, we agreed to send it and no harm done. I went to bed. I wasn’t completely satisfied, but I didn’t see anything specifically wrong—and it was so much fun!...

Then somehow those dear eyes fixed themselves on me and I felt their sad grieved look. I can’t, I can’t,—they would grieve,—‘Oh, Sophy!’

Then somehow those dear eyes locked onto me, and I felt their sad, hurt expression. I can’t, I can’t—they would be upset—‘Oh, Sophy!’

120For a minute I went back,—‘Nonsense, no harm,’—then—

120For a minute I thought back,—‘That’s ridiculous, it’s fine,’—then—

‘Let all thy converse be sincere,

Thy conscience as the noonday clear,’

and those words ‘righteous altogether’ rang in my ears....

and those words 'righteous altogether' echoed in my ears....

I went out to the sitting-room and sat down to write, and my first words to E. G. were, ‘Oh, I’ve annihilated the Review paper; it’s not righteous altogether.’ She said instantly, ‘No, I’ve been thinking in the night. I was going to advise you not to send it.’

I went into the living room and sat down to write, and my first words to E. G. were, ‘Oh, I’ve completely destroyed the Review paper; it’s not right at all.’ She said right away, ‘No, I’ve been thinking about it at night. I was going to suggest that you not send it.’

My darling would be glad. God bless her!”

My darling would be happy. God bless her!”

“‘Let all thy converse be sincere’: ‘and righteous altogether’.”

“‘Let all your conversations be genuine’: ‘and right in every way’.”

A real fighting life lay before S. J.-B.—a life in which she received and gave hard blows, and lost sight sometimes in the dust and turmoil—as a fighter must—of the right on the adversary’s side; but the words quoted above were the rock on which she built her achievement. One sees now that often when lawyers and other well-wishers thought her candid to the point of stupidity, she was simply determined that her converse should be sincere, simply striving to be righteous altogether.

A real fighting life was ahead of S. J.-B.—a life where she took and dealt hard hits, sometimes losing sight in the chaos and confusion—as fighters do—of the fairness in her opponent's stance; but the words mentioned above were the foundation of her success. It's clear now that often when lawyers and other supporters thought she was being honest to the point of foolishness, she was just committed to making her conversations genuine, simply trying to be completely just.

Her great desire for years had been to fit herself for the work of a teacher, to found—or assist at the founding of—a wonderful college and (as the very height of her ambition) to be perhaps herself the headmistress. As she had planned Sackermena of old, so now she drafted detailed schemes of work, organization, finance. Such schemes, however, have been so much more than realized by the work of others that it is useless to quote them. She took a keen interest in the school at Bettws-y-Coed, offered prizes, set delightful examination papers in general knowledge, and wrote stimulating letters to some of the elder girls. Long before this she had written in her diary:

Her big dream for years had been to prepare herself to become a teacher, to start—or help start—a fantastic college and (as the ultimate goal of her ambition) to possibly be the headmistress. Just as she had once envisioned Sackermena, she now created detailed plans for work, organization, and finances. However, these plans have been far surpassed by the efforts of others, making it pointless to mention them. She took a strong interest in the school at Bettws-y-Coed, offered prizes, crafted enjoyable exam papers on general knowledge, and wrote inspiring letters to some of the older girls. Long before this, she had written in her diary:

“Read the account of the College in Ohio for both sexes. Well, ‘Be thou but fit for the wall, and thou shalt not be left in the way.’ I do trust some day to graduate there or elsewhere. But still the great thing is to be able; the actual fact matters little.”

“Check out the story of the college in Ohio for both guys and girls. Well, ‘If you’re good enough, you won't be left behind.’ I really hope to graduate there or somewhere else one day. But the most important thing is to be capable; the actual outcome doesn’t matter much.”

The reader will recall, too, the letter to her Mother:

The reader will also remember the letter to her mom:

“I am beginning to have hope, Mother! If I only suffer enough,—and I don’t believe mine will ever be a smooth or easy life,—I may yet some day be fit to be the head for which I am looking so earnestly.”

“I’m starting to feel hopeful, Mom! If I just endure enough—and I doubt my life will ever be smooth or easy—I might someday be worthy of the position I’m searching for so intently.”

121Any girl in the present day who was fired with such enthusiasm would have countless advisers ready and anxious to give the necessary guidance. How different things were in S. J.-B.’s girlhood may be gathered from the facts of her pilgrimage to Edinburgh and search for education there. She wanted now to go farther afield—to study the state of women’s education in France and Germany, and—after some considerable hesitation—her Mother supported her in this desire. To her father, however, the feminist point of view remained a sealed book—“Truly to him,” she says at this time, “my whole life is as the ‘sight of dancers to him who heareth not the music,’”—and many objections on his part had to be overcome. Germany was so far away, and France was peopled with Roman Catholics on the look-out to pervert Protestant girls.

121Any girl today who was filled with such enthusiasm would have countless advisors eager to provide the guidance she needed. How different things were during S. J.-B.’s girlhood can be seen from the details of her journey to Edinburgh and her quest for education there. She now wanted to go even further—to explore the state of women’s education in France and Germany, and—after some considerable hesitation—her mother backed her up in this desire. To her father, however, the feminist perspective remained a mystery—“To him,” she reflects at this time, “my whole life is like the ‘sight of dancers to him who hears not the music,’”—and many of his objections had to be addressed. Germany was too far away, and France was filled with Roman Catholics waiting to corrupt Protestant girls.

“While you are so young,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake, “there will be a fearful struggle to make Daddy bear your going abroad. We belong to a Society for Governesses to protect them when they go for the language,—young women have been sorely tried by bad R.C.s to make them perverts or corrupt them. And he has heard so much of this that Germany would be less terrible to him than Paris.”

“While you’re still so young,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake, “it’s going to be a tough fight to get Daddy to accept you going abroad. We’re part of a Society for Governesses to protect them when they go to learn the language—young women have had a really hard time with bad R.C.s trying to turn them into perverts or corrupt them. And he’s heard so much about this that Germany would seem less scary to him than Paris.”

“Written to Mummy at length about Germany,” she says. “Oh, the weary kind of languor that deprecates work and talk! It seems almost too much to have to do what is so hard, and to have, too, to justify it to others.”

“Wrote to Mom a long letter about Germany,” she says. “Oh, the exhausting kind of weariness that makes you dread work and conversation! It feels like too much to handle what’s so difficult, and also have to explain it to others.”

The letter to her Mother has been preserved:

The letter to her Mom has been kept:

“May 1st 1862.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

... I had hoped that Germany was an accepted fact,—not only to you, but to my Father, as at his (or your ?) wish I took that before France, and at your’s before America.

... I had hoped that Germany was a given—not just to you but to my father, since I took that before France at his (or your?) request, and at yours before America.

I believe, my darling, that I am trying to look simply and earnestly at my life simply as an instrument for my work,—and shaping the one to serve the other.

I believe, my darling, that I’m trying to view my life straightforwardly and sincerely as a tool for my work—and aligning one to support the other.

I have long formed the conviction (which daily experience and the opinion of others strengthens) that best of all now for my object will be the devotion of years to the observation of other systems and the endeavour to glean everywhere materials for my future edifice. I believe that my work has come definitely before me as early as it did, with the express intention that I should make this use of years which later I could never recall.

I’ve come to strongly believe, backed up by daily experiences and others’ opinions, that dedicating years to observing different systems and gathering materials for my future project is the best approach for me right now. I feel like my work has clearly presented itself to me earlier than expected, with the specific purpose of encouraging me to spend these years in a way I could never go back and redo later.

122It seems to me the simplest verbal expression of the presenting our lives a holy sacrifice, as is our reasonable service, to say,—God has, I believe, given me this work. I have certain qualifications and facilities for it. I will give up my life first to perfect those qualifications and then to use them as He shows me how. So now my whole intention and bent is to go anywhere in the world where, as it seems to me on sufficient grounds, I may expect to learn most for my work,—to learn what will make me myself a better scholar and to learn what will most help me to organize (if organization falls to my lot) a better system here in England.

122It seems to me the simplest way to express dedicating our lives as a holy sacrifice, which is our reasonable service, is to say—God has given me this work. I have certain skills and abilities for it. I will dedicate my life first to improving those skills and then to using them as He guides me. So now my entire aim and focus is to go anywhere in the world where, based on solid reasons, I can learn the most for my work—to learn what will make me a better scholar and to learn what will best help me establish (if it falls to me) a better system here in England.

If I am myself to be the head, I will make myself as good a one, God helping me, as He has put in my nature the material to make,—if I am to be a servant I will certainly be as thorough and complete a one as is in my utmost power. I do from the bottom of my heart pray God that on no failure may be written, ‘Had I worked more earnestly, more wisely, more diligently,—this had been avoided.’

If I'm going to be the leader, I’ll do my best to be a good one, with God's help, just as He has given me the qualities to be so. If I’m meant to be a servant, I’ll definitely be as dedicated and thorough as I possibly can. I sincerely pray to God that I won’t look back and think, ‘If I had worked harder, smarter, or more diligently, this could have been avoided.’

You know, Mother, the purpose of my life,—you know the consecration, as I trust, of every power to one aim,—you have helped me nobly, gloriously to keep it in view,—you have told me that ‘manfully to fight under His banner’ is more blessed than ‘dreaming out life even on Mother’s shoulder’....

You know, Mom, the purpose of my life—you know the commitment, as I hope, of every ability to one goal—you have helped me wonderfully, gloriously to stay focused on it—you have told me that ‘fighting bravely under His banner’ is more blessed than ‘daydreaming through life even on Mom’s shoulder’....

Well, Mother, you know my object, you know my hope. Look for yourself and tell me if you see for its fulfilment any course to be adopted rather than the one which seems to me marked out. Look at the work and that alone. Look at my life merely as the instrument,—see how it may best be turned to account,—most solemnly it is my deepest desire to arrive at a true answer.

Well, Mom, you know what I'm aiming for, you know my hope. Take a look for yourself and tell me if you see any other way to achieve it besides the one that seems clear to me. Focus on the work itself. Consider my life just as a tool—see how it can be used most effectively—because, honestly, my biggest wish is to find the real answer.

What could I be doing that would as readily and as really forward my aim? In what way could I as usefully devote my time and power?

What could I be doing that would effectively and genuinely move me closer to my goal? How can I best use my time and energy?

I believe most earnestly that it is not to any one plan or scheme of my own that I cling,—show me anything better for my work—show me anything even that you yourself think as good for it (looking at it only) and I am willing, renouncing every present thought, to take the new into deep consideration, and trust to the guidance of the Light to show me which is my appointed path.

I truly believe that I'm not attached to any specific plan or idea of my own—if you can show me something better for my work, or even something you think is just as good (just looking at it), I’m open to completely putting aside my current thoughts and giving the new option serious consideration, trusting that the Light will guide me to my true path.

But take the question by itself,—satisfy yourself whether you think I have judged rightly, as at least I have striven to judge honestly,—and, if you arrive at my own conclusion I think you will feel that that is the only important thing,—that if we are enabled to ‘perceive and know what things we ought to do’ we shall also surely be given ‘power faithfully to fulfil the same.’

But consider the question on its own—see for yourself if you believe I’ve made the right judgment, as I’ve at least tried to judge honestly—and if you come to the same conclusion I have, I think you’ll realize that that is the only thing that truly matters—that if we’re able to ‘see and understand what we should do,’ we will surely also be given the ‘ability to carry it out faithfully.’

As I have said often before, if you and my Father ever need me at home,—ever even desire my presence there,—I will relinquish for the time everything to that which I am sure God would have 123me hold my highest and dearest duty,—But I believe nothing else on earth must be suffered to come between me and my work, and, please God, nothing shall.

As I’ve said many times before, if you and my Father ever need me at home—if you even want me to be there—I will gladly set aside everything for what I know is my most important duty to God. But I believe nothing else on this earth should stand in the way of my work, and, with God’s help, nothing will. 123

I see ‘my Father’s business’ clearly before me,—help me, Mother, wholly to consecrate my life as I would wish, to it.

I clearly see ‘my Father’s business’ in front of me—help me, Mom, completely dedicate my life to it as I desire.

As to all questions of detail, I think, darling, you need not be disturbed or anxious. Acting rightly, I am quite sure I shall be always cared for far more than I deserve. I think you have, and may have entire confidence in my practical common sense,—I think I have already shown that I am not very likely to get into difficulties. You have trusted me a great deal, Mother, have you had to repent it?

As for all the details, I believe, my dear, you don't need to worry or feel anxious. If I act responsibly, I'm sure I'll be taken care of much more than I deserve. I think you have, and can continue to have, full confidence in my practical judgment—I believe I've already proven that I'm not prone to getting into trouble. You've trusted me a lot, Mom; have you ever regretted it?

You may be sure that I shall strive my utmost to do wisely as well as rightly—indeed the one cannot be without the other. I think, moreover, you will be almost certainly satisfied with my plans and arrangements,—I am sure I have ‘caution’ strongly developed. And, though it may seem more new to you, I am very unlikely to find in my new life as difficult circumstances as those in which I have already had to act. I think that you may have confidence that I know you trust me, and that I shall not fail your trust. I think you may believe that I shall know and think of your wishes.

You can be sure that I will do my best to make wise and fair decisions—one can't exist without the other. I really believe you will be quite satisfied with my plans and arrangements—I know I have a strong sense of caution. And while this may seem new to you, I doubt I will encounter any challenges in my new life that are as tough as those I've already faced. You can trust that I understand your trust in me, and I won’t let you down. You can believe that I will keep your wishes in mind.

Then, as to any anxiety for myself. You have said much to me in the trials of the last months which I would ask you to repeat to yourself. You have told me to trust my darling in perfect faith to ‘Him who keepeth Israel’ and whose love you tell me is deeper and truer than mine. Can you not trust me to Him too?

Then, about any worries I have for myself. You've shared a lot with me during the challenges of the past few months, and I would like you to remind yourself of it. You've told me to trust my dear one completely to 'Him who watches over Israel,' whose love you say is deeper and truer than mine. Can't you also trust me to Him?

I think there were some circumstances which there are not here, which did not make it easier.

I think there were some circumstances that aren't present here, which made things harder.

And in truth, Mother, what is there to fear? If God (as I believe) needs my life to do a work for Him, He will surely keep it safely till that work is accomplished. If He does not, wherefore should one live? Could you regret for anyone you loved that they ‘in youth should find their rest’? When one feels completely how each of us is a link in God’s great chain,—how individual life and care sink out of sight, as hardly worthy notice. How one feels the whole object and end of life to be that God’s will should be done in us and by us in life and in death.

And honestly, Mom, what is there to be afraid of? If God (as I believe) needs my life to accomplish something, He will definitely protect it until that purpose is fulfilled. If He doesn’t, then what’s the point of living? Would you really mourn for someone you loved if they found peace in their youth? When you truly understand how each of us is a link in God’s vast chain, individual lives and concerns seem trivial and unworthy of attention. The whole purpose of life feels like it’s about carrying out God’s will in us and through us, both in life and in death.

And whether in one or the other matters so little....

And whether in one way or another, it matters so little...

You see, Mother, I have had very much lately to realise all this;—that time and distance,—that all severance—are things of time—and shall be cast into the lake of fire. That now we have to do God’s work, ... that here we are not even to look for the fruition....

You see, Mom, I've really come to understand all this lately—how time and distance, how all separation, are just things of time and will eventually be thrown into the lake of fire. Right now, we have to focus on doing God’s work... and here we shouldn’t even expect to see the results.

I have to cling very very earnestly now to principles,—I cannot see for myself,—my teachers are removed out of my sight,—I can 124only cling to the belief which is above and beyond all that that very sight and those very teachers were but instruments of the great Guide,—and that now without them, as before with them, ‘the Lord alone doth lead him.’ As I said this morning, so it seems to me tonight the root and fountain of everything ‘The Lord reigneth,—let the earth rejoice.’

I have to hold on really tightly to my principles now—I can’t rely on my own understanding—my teachers are no longer in sight—I can only trust in the belief that they were just instruments of the greater Guiding Force—and that now, without them, just like when they were here, ‘the Lord alone leads him.’ As I mentioned this morning, it feels to me tonight that the foundation of everything is ‘The Lord reigns—let the earth rejoice.’

Yours very lovingly,

Soph.”

It is not to be supposed—nor desired—that all her letters to her Mother were on such a plane. Doubtless the weary flesh and spirit found expression often enough.

It shouldn't be assumed—or hoped—that all her letters to her mother were like that. Surely, her tired body and soul expressed themselves often enough.

Of course that wonderful mother-heart never failed in sympathy, though naturally the Mother’s mind did not know what the strain of a modern woman’s life meant in those early days when circumstances were all unadapted to meet the new demand. “Little darling shall have all the rest I can help her to,” she writes about this time, “for greatly does her troubled spirit need it.”

Of course, that amazing motherly heart was always full of sympathy, even though the Mother's mind couldn’t fully understand what the pressure of a modern woman's life was like in those early days when everything was still adjusting to meet the new demands. “My little darling will have all the support I can give her,” she writes during this time, “because her troubled spirit really needs it.”

And for a few weeks S. J.-B. really settled down to a restful time at home. “I am just now chiefly living in the garden and stable in my waking life,” she writes to Miss Lucy Walker, “but there is a sufficient portion not included in that.”

And for a few weeks, S. J.-B. really settled into a relaxing time at home. “Right now, I’m mostly spending my waking hours in the garden and stable,” she writes to Miss Lucy Walker, “but there’s a good amount not included in that.”

Meanwhile Miss de Dreux had recommended a family at Göttingen, who would be glad to have an English boarder, and S. J.-B. arranged to go to them. To the last moment before leaving home she was occupied in trying to persuade the mother of a sick friend to let the invalid accompany her, in the hope that change of air and scene might check the course of a mortal malady. One cannot be altogether sorry—nor surprised—that the mother refused.

Meanwhile, Miss de Dreux had suggested a family in Göttingen that would be happy to take in an English boarder, and S. J.-B. made plans to stay with them. Right up until the moment she left home, she was focused on convincing the mother of a sick friend to let the ill person join her, hoping that a change of air and scenery might help with a serious illness. One can't entirely blame—nor be surprised—that the mother said no.

So S. J.-B. started alone on July 21st, and crossed from London to Antwerp. “Delicious, cool and pleasant passage—smooth and comfortable. Beds on deck in a kind of room knocked up under the ‘bridge.’ Quaint night,—with crashing machinery, flashing lights, rough voices,—altogether weird and quaint.”

So S. J.-B. set off alone on July 21st and traveled from London to Antwerp. “It was a lovely, cool, and nice trip—smooth and comfortable. There were beds on deck in a sort of room setup under the ‘bridge.’ The night was strange—with clattering machinery, flashing lights, loud voices—altogether bizarre and unique.”

The choice of adjectives is curious, as it was not till many years later that “weird” and “quaint” became the stock adjectives in the vocabulary of the young.

The choice of adjectives is interesting, as it wasn't until many years later that “weird” and “quaint” became the go-to words in the vocabulary of young people.

125She spent the night at Cologne, and went on next day to Hanover and thence to Göttingen. She was pleased with her quarters, her hostess, and her reception. What the family thought of her is another question, to which the records furnish no answer; for she was still feeling worn-out in body and mind, and nature simply insisted on a rest cure. She seems to have made little effort even to learn the language, much to the amazement of the elder daughter, who had enjoyed the advantage of a conscientious visit to England. So weary, indeed, was S. J.-B. that she actually chronicles the “great blessing” of being freed from Sundays for a while—of having rest all days, and “Calvinism, separation, none.”

125She spent the night in Cologne and continued to Hanover the next day and then to Göttingen. She was happy with her accommodations, her hostess, and the warm welcome she received. What the family thought of her is another matter, and the records don’t provide any insight; she was still feeling drained both physically and mentally, and her body insisted on a break. It seems she made little effort to learn the language, much to the surprise of the elder daughter, who had recently taken a dedicated trip to England. In fact, S. J.-B. was so exhausted that she even noted the “great blessing” of being free from Sundays for a while—getting to rest every day, and having “Calvinism, separation, none.”

“How peacefully came over me today ‘One sweetly solemn thought’ as they sat talking (I knew but a word or two) of someone found dead. How uncongenial A.P.’s remark, ‘I find these so sudden deaths awful.’ What she thought I don’t know, but I could not but say, ‘Oh, no!—going home?’

“How peacefully came over me today 'One sweetly solemn thought' as they sat talking (I knew only a word or two) about someone who was found dead. A.P.’s comment, ‘I find these sudden deaths awful,’ felt so out of place. I’m not sure what she was thinking, but I couldn't help but respond, ‘Oh, no!—going home?’”

August 18th. Everybody going ‘zu reisen,’—Rhine, Harz, everywhere. Ah, childie, if you would only come quickly, we could have such a tour!—Alps,—Mont Blanc,—Geneva,—Venice, wherever you would; in a few weeks it will be too late. Too late! For that. But truly all is ‘in the fulness of time,’ and could we see and know, even our restless impatience would not hurry it....

August 18th. Everyone is going away—Rhine, Harz, everywhere. Ah, dear one, if you would just come quickly, we could have such an adventure!—Alps,—Mont Blanc,—Geneva,—Venice, anywhere you want; in a few weeks, it will be too late. Too late! For *that*. But honestly, everything happens *in the fullness of time*, and if we could see and understand it, even our restless impatience wouldn’t rush it....

As to money, well enough. I really expect to clear £20 of my allowance this quarter. I have that and about £1. 15s. in hand for stamps, washing and wine to the end of the quarter, besides £9 for rent. How jealously I do watch it! Really between my tour, my E.E.U.,^[28] and my distant college, I must look out that I don’t turn into a miser in earnest! I get such a trick of watching and scraping halfpence! And yet I don’t believe I should grudge them either if need were.

As for money, that's going well. I actually expect to save £20 from my allowance this quarter. I have that and about £1. 15s. left for stamps, laundry, and wine until the end of the quarter, plus £9 for rent. I really keep an eye on it! Honestly, with my travels, my E.E.U.,^[28] and my faraway college, I have to be careful I don't become a complete miser! I’ve gotten into the habit of watching and saving every penny! And yet, I don’t think I would mind spending them if it came down to it.

And one must look to pence if one would do anything with pounds.

And you have to pay attention to pennies if you want to do anything with pounds.

Still, I believe of the two I have really more to look out against ‘nearness’ than extravagance. I was right enough when I told Frid (that poor little darling, I am sure her’s are ‘vicarious sufferings’)^[29] that she need never fear my spending 1/2d. I did not see my way to.

Still, I think I have more to be cautious about with ‘closeness’ than with extravagance. I was correct when I told Frid (that poor little dear, I'm sure her experiences are ‘vicarious sufferings’)^[29] that she doesn’t need to worry about me spending even a penny. I just didn’t see how I could.

126I expect, with my work, this is perhaps a fitness for it,—a surety against a great danger....

126I think that with my efforts, this might be a way to prepare for it—a safeguard against a serious risk....

“Today Lina and I reading English. Frau brought a young man out, and Lina shut up all books at once—for the benefit of his remarks, I suppose. I, rather wrath, took up Rawlinson.”

“Today, Lina and I are reading English. Frau brought out a young man, and Lina closed all the books immediately—probably for the sake of his comments. I, feeling quite irritated, picked up Rawlinson.”

During these weeks of comparative idleness, S. J.-B. was making enquiries as to a place where she could profitably study the position of the education of girls in Germany. Finally she applied for the post of English teacher in the Grand Ducal Institute at Mannheim.

During these weeks of relative downtime, S. J.-B. was looking into where she could effectively study the status of girls' education in Germany. Eventually, she applied for the position of English teacher at the Grand Ducal Institute in Mannheim.

As the Institution had embarked on a policy of strict retrenchment and economy, this was refused, but she had quite made up her mind to become an inmate in some capacity (as an ordinary pupil if necessary) and finally she set out without announcing her intention, in a fashion that recalls an adventure in the life of Lucy Snow in Villette.^[30] The condensed account of this in her diary could scarcely be bettered:

As the Institution had started a strict policy of cuts and saving, this was turned down, but she was determined to become a resident in some form (even as a regular student if needed) and eventually she left without telling anyone, in a way that reminds one of an adventure in Lucy Snow's life in Villette.^[30] The brief summary of this in her diary could hardly be improved:

“Sept. 13th. Saturday.^[31] Left Göttingen at 5 a.m. with pleasant gifts from the children, and the famous glass knife from Frau B.

“Sept. 13th. Saturday.^[31] Departed Göttingen at 5 a.m. with thoughtful gifts from the kids and the well-known glass knife from Frau B.

The morning cold, dank and misty,—darker than mornings are here even yet, I think. As we came south, perceptible increase of heat, till, leaving a cold autumn at Göttingen, we found a hot summer at Frankfurt. Went to Pfälzer Hof,—clean, cheap, and civil. Had a bedroom opening on a balcony, and very good night considering,—though, as I lay down, the venture rose strongly before me,—quite alone,—without counsel,—having come 200 miles to a place which had already refused me,—with the slender chance of personal representation prevailing,—uncertain, even if accepted, whether I could do the work,—in fact feeling strongly ‘not knowing whither I went’ yet trusting, like Abraham, I ‘went forth’. So fell asleep, seeing all perplexities, yet laying my head very softly on the pillow, ‘Oh, Lord, in Thee have I trusted: let me never be confounded!’

The morning was cold, damp, and foggy—darker than mornings are here even now, I think. As we traveled south, the heat gradually increased until, leaving the chilly autumn in Göttingen, we arrived at a hot summer in Frankfurt. We stayed at the Pfälzer Hof—clean, affordable, and friendly. I had a bedroom that opened onto a balcony, and it was a pretty good night considering—but as I lay down, the situation weighed heavily on my mind—completely alone—without guidance—having traveled 200 miles to a place that had already turned me down—with only a slim chance of making a personal appeal—uncertain, even if I was accepted, whether I could handle the work—feeling deeply puzzled, ‘not knowing where I was going’ yet trusting, like Abraham, I ‘went forth’. So I fell asleep, aware of all the complexities, yet resting my head gently on the pillow, ‘Oh, Lord, in You have I trusted: let me never be ashamed!’

127Well, I slept long,—breakfasted deliciously in my room,—dressed in black silk, etc., with no end of care, wrote a little note to Mother, almost to the beating of my own heart all the time.

127I slept in late, had a lovely breakfast in my room, got dressed in black silk with great attention to detail, and wrote a short note to my mom, feeling my heart race the entire time.

Frl. E. had promised to come at 11. I waited till 12,—then came Frl. H. and Frl. M. Walked with them to the Institut,—was shown into the ‘parloir’ and left. They fetched me again,—walked round the square garden with its high convent walls ^[32] (oh, how I remember those white berries!) Then out came Frl. von Palaus with her fine port and clear good eyes, and round hat. I told her how I wanted to study German education, and wished so much to enter here.

Frl. E. had promised to arrive at 11. I waited until 12, then Frl. H. and Frl. M. showed up. I walked with them to the Institut, was shown into the ‘parloir,’ and left. They brought me back, and we strolled around the square garden with its tall convent walls ^[32] (oh, how I remember those white berries!). Then Frl. von Palaus came out with her elegant posture, bright clear eyes, and wide-brimmed hat. I told her that I wanted to study German education and really hoped to get in here.

She asked ‘mes conditions’. ‘Moi, je n’en ai pas, Mlle.’ She would ‘parler aux autres dames.’

She asked 'my terms'. "I don't have any, Miss." She would "Talk to the other women."

Marie M. was to show me the house. Then in Miss von Palaus’ room:—

Marie M. was going to show me the house. Then in Miss von Palaus’ room:—

‘Would I come again at four?’ ‘Certainly’. Then a series of warnings for my own comfort:—‘ Very simple here.’ ‘I most happy to hear it.’ ‘Very plain little room.’ ‘I am no sybarite.’ ‘Mixed communions.’ ‘I only ask toleration for myself, and am most willing to give it.’ ‘But as to money!’ I leave it entirely to them,—any arrangement of theirs I agree to. Enfin I said I was sure to be more than content. I had no fears.

'Should I come again at four?' 'Absolutely.' Then a series of reminders for my own reassurance:—'It's very simple here.' 'I'm glad to hear that.' 'Just a plain little room.' 'I'm not picky.' 'Mixed gatherings.' 'I only ask for tolerance for myself and am more than willing to give it.' 'But what about money!' I leave that completely to them—I'll agree to whatever arrangement they propose. In the end, I said I was sure I would be more than satisfied. I had no worries.

‘Would I stay and dine?’ ‘Very gladly.’ ‘Very plain food.’ I was no epicure, and sure to be pleased. So the result was, in fine, that I have never dined anywhere else since, and find my prophecy well fulfilled.

‘Would I stay and have dinner?’ ‘Absolutely.’ ‘Just simple food.’ I wasn’t picky, and I was sure to enjoy it. So, in the end, I’ve never eaten anywhere else since, and I can honestly say my prediction has come true.

After dinner talked to the governesses; they said how comfortable they were. I thought, ‘I only wish I were in your shoes,’ for I had only asked to come anyhow, as pupil or anything. Then Frl. von Gruben came from Frl. von Palaus:—A teacher (a Frl. von Endert) was absent from illness for 6 months (was it not wonderful?) would I take her place?—but (as the Institution was only just struggling straight again after its shocks) without salary? ‘Very gladly.’ How my heart leaped, though I spoke very quietly. What a chance for saving, if not gaining, money,—literally to earn my bread. Now I could hope for money for my E.E.U., for the £50 for Christmas /63,—perhaps for Bettws school,—perhaps for a tour!

After dinner, I chatted with the governesses; they mentioned how comfortable they felt. I thought, ‘I wish I were in your position,’ since I had only asked to come in any capacity, as a student or anything else. Then Ms. von Gruben came from Ms. von Palaus:—A teacher (Ms. von Endert) had been absent due to illness for 6 months (wasn’t that amazing?) and asked if I would take her place?—but (since the Institution was just beginning to recover after its difficulties) it would be without salary? ‘I’d be very happy to.’ My heart raced, even though I spoke very calmly. What an opportunity to save, if not earn, money—literally to earn my living. Now I could hope for funds for my E.E.U., the £50 for Christmas /63,—maybe for Bettws school,—perhaps for a trip!

Well, again I saw Frl. von Palaus,—her face had satisfied me from the first. ‘Did I quite understand? Was I willing to have no salary and no expense?’ ‘Very gladly.’

Well, again I saw Ms. von Palaus—her face had satisfied me from the start. "Did I fully understand? Was I okay with having no salary and no expenses?" "Absolutely."

So off I went at 4 p.m., gay as a lark. Settled my bill, got a cab, and by 5 p.m. (less than 24 hours from my arrival) was established in my little cell at the G.D.I., Mannheim!—‘au comble de mes voeux.’ Thank God!

So off I went at 4 p.m., happy as a lark. I settled my bill, got a cab, and by 5 p.m. (less than 24 hours after I arrived) was all set in my little room at the G.D.I., Mannheim!—"to the height of my wishes." Thank God!

128And now I have been here nearly a month,—already established as if for years, in full sunshine of content.

128And now I have been here for almost a month—already settled in as if I've been here for years, enjoying the bright light of happiness.

At work again! And, thank God, with such strength for it! A new sap and strength in all my veins,—my heart in songs of gladness.

At work again! And, thank God, with so much energy for it! A fresh vitality and strength in all my veins—my heart singing with joy.

The heavy burden seems to have rolled away,—the sting and bitterness quite gone; strength and power returned to my hand,—colour and brightness to my life. Again I understand ‘the thrill, the leap, the gladness’—again the sunshine has broken over earth. Now I go up and down the long corridors, catching with my hand at a great beam, in ‘superfluous energy’ again, (my darling!)—a smile over my whole face as I think I will tell her of my life in this weird old monastery—young bounding life all around—I myself no longer ‘going softly’.

The heavy burden feels like it’s finally lifted—the pain and bitterness are completely gone; my strength and power are back in my hands—colors and brightness have returned to my life. I can once again feel ‘the thrill, the leap, the joy’—the sunshine has come back to the world. Now, I walk up and down the long hallways, reaching with my hand at a massive beam, full of ‘extra energy’ again, (my darling!)—a smile spreads across my whole face as I think about sharing my life in this strange old monastery—youthful energy all around me—I’m no longer ‘moving quietly’.

‘Thank God! Thank God!’ I can say nothing else.”

‘Thank God! Thank God!’ I can say nothing more.”

129

CHAPTER XI
LIFE AS A TEACHER AT MANNHEIM

To her Mother she writes:

To her mom she writes:

“Sept. 15th, 1862.

My own Darling,

Though I must now be rather more economical of space (for I can send but 1/4 instead of 1/2 oz) I cannot resist beginning a fresh letter to you, having but just posted my last, with one also to Daddy. I am afraid Mr. Bevan must be again disappointed to learn that there is still no kind of prospect of starvation for me,—quite the contrary.

Though I have to be a bit more careful with space now (since I can send only 1/4 oz instead of 1/2 oz), I can’t help but start a new letter to you after just posting my last one, along with one to Dad. I’m afraid Mr. Bevan will be disappointed again to find out that there’s still no sign of starvation for me—quite the opposite.

I will tell you our plans as far as I know them yet. We get up, as you know, at 5.30 a.m., breakfast at 6.30, begin work at 7. At 10 we have bread handed round, then at one we dine, very well, I think.... At 3 we teachers (!) have cups of coffee, and at 5 or 6 some grapes before going out for a walk. At 6 tea (or perhaps at 7) and then at 8.30 a regular meat supper. So you see we are not so very badly off,—indeed it seems to me to be something going all day almost!...

I’ll share our plans as much as I know right now. We wake up, as you know, at 5:30 a.m., have breakfast at 6:30, and start work at 7. At 10, we get some bread, then we have lunch at 1, which I think is pretty good.... At 3, we teachers (!) have coffee, and at 5 or 6, we have some grapes before heading out for a walk. At 6, we have tea (or maybe at 7), and then at 8:30, we have a full meat dinner. So you can see we’re not so very badly off—actually, it feels like we’re busy almost all day!...

Mother, I can’t lie down without telling you of the very beautiful, soothing influence one thing has (perhaps unexpectedly) over me. I mean the perfect lovingness and charity in which we all of such opposite faiths live together, and have just knelt and prayed together. There seems to me something so inexpressibly touching and happy in it,—everyone seems so loving to the rest, so far from cavilling for ‘words and names’: each so absolutely free and all so far from seeking to proselytize. At meals we stand round the table,—‘Nous voulons prier, mesdemoiselles,’ and in silence everyone together thanks God ‘in his own tongue’,—one marking only that some cross themselves silently and some do not. Then at night we kneel together,—we have a fine loving German hymn, and a text for us all,—words lovingly pronounced by our Roman Catholic head that yet every Presbyterian minister might say. There seems 130to me something so inexpressibly soothing in this union,—so far stronger than all differences. I can hardly tell you the rest and refreshment it is to me now, worn and weary as my spirit is. It struck me very much in its beauty tonight as Miss von Palaus pronounced,—‘There is but one name given under heaven among men whereby we may be saved’, and we all received it on our knees,—Protestants and Romanists, Unitarians and Trinitarians,—each ‘in his own tongue.’ Was it not beautiful how just that name bound us all together,—Christians,—seeking at least the spirit of Christ who loved us all,—our Master,—that we might ‘love one another’....

Mom, I can’t lie down without sharing the beautiful, soothing effect that one thing has (maybe unexpectedly) on me. I’m talking about the perfect love and charity in which we all, with our different beliefs, live together and have just knelt and prayed together. It feels so incredibly touching and happy to me—everyone seems so loving to one another, far removed from arguing over 'words and names': each person is completely free, and no one is trying to convert anyone else. At meals, we gather around the table—"We want to pray, ladies," and in silence, everyone thanks God ‘in his own language’—you can see some cross themselves quietly while others don’t. Then at night, we kneel together—we sing a beautiful German hymn and share a text for all of us—words lovingly spoken by our Roman Catholic leader that any Presbyterian minister could say. To me, there’s something incredibly soothing about this unity—much stronger than all our differences. I can hardly express how refreshing it is for me now, as worn out and weary as my spirit is. It struck me deeply tonight when Miss von Palaus said, ‘There is but one name given under heaven among men whereby we may be saved’, and we all received it on our knees—Protestants and Catholics, Unitarians and Trinitarians—each in their own language. Wasn’t it beautiful how just that name united us all—Christians—seeking at least the spirit of Christ who loved us all—our Master—so that we might ‘love one another’...

I am charmed to learn the Scotch girl, Janet McDonald, has learned both Latin and Algebra,—both wonderful acquirements here,—and I look forward to perhaps doing some work with her, if she gets on well enough with other things.

I’m thrilled to hear that the Scottish girl, Janet McDonald, has learned both Latin and Algebra—both impressive skills around here—and I look forward to maybe working with her if she manages to keep up with her other subjects.

2 p.m. Tuesday. The politeness of these girls is really quite refreshing. Last night, going up to my room after dark, there were several girls at the candle-stand, and, when I asked for a candle, one of them lighted one, and, with a reverence and ‘Permettez-moi, mademoiselle,’ carried it the whole way upstairs for me in spite of my efforts to get hold of it,—it being quite out of her way.... 7 p.m. Well, Mother darling, I wonder if you can sympathize in my intense exaltation and delight at the—for the first time in my life—literally earning my bread,—something like ‘My First Penny’, you know. I have had my ‘surveillance de musique’, but am longing quite childishly for the commencement of my special work,—I see teaching all around, and am just wild to be at it. Can Mother understand and sympathize?

2 p.m. Tuesday. The politeness of these girls is really quite refreshing. Last night, as I was heading to my room after dark, there were several girls at the candle-stand. When I asked for a candle, one of them lit one and, with a sense of respect, said "Permettez-moi, mademoiselle," and carried it all the way upstairs for me, despite my attempts to take it myself—it was very thoughtful of her. 7 p.m. Well, Mother darling, I wonder if you can share in my intense excitement and joy at, for the first time in my life, literally earning my bread—something like "My First Penny," you know. I have been assigned my "surveillance de musique," but I'm eagerly looking forward to starting my main work. I see teaching all around me and I'm just eager to dive into it. Can Mother understand and relate?

Thursday 18th. My letter at last. I have been several times to the post in hopes of it.... Today I have had one lesson, and am just going to give another,—delicious! It’s really like oats to a horse who has been kept a year on hay. Miss Garrett was right enough when she said, ‘Get teaching!’ I quite laugh at myself to feel how radiant I am with delight at being again in harness.”

Thursday 18th. I finally got my letter. I’ve been to the post office several times hoping to find it.... Today I had one lesson and I’m about to have another—so fantastic! It’s honestly like giving oats to a horse that’s been on hay for a year. Miss Garrett was totally right when she said, ‘Get teaching!’ I can’t help but laugh at how thrilled I am to be back in action.

To Miss Walker she writes:

To Miss Walker, she writes:

“Sept. 22nd. 1862.

Mannheim.

Dear Lucy,

Dear Lucy

You will, I think, already have heard from my Mother that I cannot now offer myself to accompany L. to Paris. I do not know if you are aware that three weeks ago I wrote to Mrs. B., urging her, as strongly as I knew how, to entrust L. to me for the winter, and 131offering to take her to any part of Europe which was thought best. I believe, at Mrs. Z.’s entreaty, Mrs. B. did consult some medical man on the subject, but I am sorry to say they confirmed her resolution of ‘keeping her under her own eye’—of course not understanding, as you and I think we do, all the circumstances.

I think you may have already heard from my mom that I cannot now offer to accompany L. to Paris. I'm not sure if you know that three weeks ago I wrote to Mrs. B., urging her with all my might to let me take care of L. for the winter, and I offered to take her anywhere in Europe that was considered best. I believe that, at Mrs. Z.’s request, Mrs. B. consulted a doctor about it, but I regret to say that they supported her decision to ‘keep her under her own eye’—of course, without understanding all the details like you and I do. 131

I therefore got so decided a refusal that even I felt further entreaty to be useless, and, giving up the point, I entered at once into a six months’ engagement as English Teacher at the Grand Ducal Institution at Mannheim, where I have now been just a week, and therefore, of course, no further change is now in my power as regards my own movements....

I received such a firm refusal that I knew further requests would be pointless. So, I let it go and immediately accepted a six-month position as an English Teacher at the Grand Ducal Institution in Mannheim, where I've just completed my first week. Therefore, I can't make any more changes regarding my own plans at this time...

I am much pleased on the whole with the kind of tone I find between teachers and pupils, and with the general principles, which, if not the very highest, are yet greatly superior to what you find in most English boarding schools.

I am overall quite pleased with the tone I see between teachers and students, as well as the general principles, which, while not the very best, are still much better than what you find in most English boarding schools.

By the bye, before I say Goodbye, I must tell you what horror my open window at night (even now) occasions the natives! Having violent headache some time back, an old servant assured me it was ‘the window’, and since I have been here I have been entertained with the account of a gentleman who went mad, as I understand, entirely from sleeping with an open window! So now you see the fate before you as well as me! Besides that, the doctor here (more shame for him) assures me I shall get a fever!

By the way, before I say goodbye, I have to tell you how much my open window at night (even now) scares the locals! A little while ago, I had a bad headache, and an old servant told me it was because of 'the window.' Ever since I’ve been here, I’ve heard stories about a guy who supposedly went crazy just from sleeping with an open window! So now you see what could happen to you as well as me! Plus, the doctor here (shame on him) says I’m going to get a fever!

Goodbye, dear Lucy. Remember me to the B.s when you write.

Goodbye, dear Lucy. Please say hi to the B.s for me when you write.

Yours very sincerely,

S. L. Jex-Blake.”

And again to her Mother:

And again to her Mom:

“Sept. 30th. 1862.

My own Darling,

My dear darling,

... It amuses me very much as a proof of how soon a habit is acquired (and also, I think, an evidence that it suits me very well indeed) to find that now, and indeed for a week past at least, I always wake of myself just at 5.30 a.m.,—usually just 5 or 10 minutes before I am called.^[33] I wasn’t wrong about my power of adaptability, was I, Mother? Indeed I thrive greatly on hours, fare and all other circumstances; I have not been so strong for many months,—indeed now it is just a year. What a strange, grey, weird year!...

... It really amuses me as proof of how quickly a habit forms (and also, I think, shows that it suits me quite well) to notice that now, and for at least the past week, I always wake up by myself right at 5:30 a.m.—usually just 5 or 10 minutes before I'm called.^[33] I wasn’t wrong about my ability to adapt, was I, Mom? I truly thrive on hours, food, and all other circumstances; I haven't been this strong in many months—actually, it's been a year now. What a strange, gray, weird year!...

132You see idleness and listlessness is about the worst thing possible (I was feeling that in Göttingen): now my days are full, not only materially, but really, for it is the kind of employment that does fill and satisfy me. And, I suppose, next to idleness, the worst thing would be over mental fatigue.... It is, too, another advantage, which anybody else can hardly appreciate, to have my day mapped out for me with military exactness,—to find my work always ready before me, and quite definite and imperative,—yet making no demand on my strength almost—always pleasant and always changing.

132You know, being lazy and feeling lost is pretty much the worst thing ever (I felt that in Göttingen): now my days are busy, not just in a physical sense, but truly fulfilling, because the work I do brings me satisfaction. And, I guess, besides being lazy, the next worst thing would be mental exhaustion... Another benefit, which others might not fully understand, is having my day planned out with military precision—always finding my tasks prepared for me, clear and mandatory—yet it hardly takes a toll on my energy—it's always enjoyable and constantly changing.

It would have been impossible to have planned a life suiting me personally more exactly to my finest need,—and the glory is that at the same time it is part of my work, and serving it very really and materially. I don’t suppose in that point of view either it would be possible to put my time to better advantage....

It would have been impossible to plan a life that suits me better—exactly how I need it— and the great thing is that at the same time, it's part of my work, truly benefiting it in a practical way. I don’t think there's a better way to spend my time from that perspective...

You see, Mother, how you get my sunny day-dreams now, as you used to get the weary ones. I don’t know if everyone has words running all day long in their head as I have,—it makes a glorious song sometimes—silently enough, but running like a golden thread through daily work and labour, raising it all till ‘the parapets of heaven with angels leaning’ come full in view.... Do you remember George Herbert’s delicious poem—?

You see, Mom, how you get my sunny daydreams now, just like you used to get the tired ones. I don’t know if everyone has thoughts running through their head all day like I do—it creates a beautiful song sometimes—quietly enough, but running like a golden thread through daily tasks and work, lifting it all until ‘the parapets of heaven with angels leaning’ come clearly into view.... Do you remember George Herbert’s lovely poem—?

‘My Joy! my Life! my Crown! My heart was meaning all the day Something it fain would say,— And yet it runneth muttering up and down With only this,— My Joy! my Life! my Crown!’

‘My Joy! my Life! my Crown! My heart was trying all day To say something, — Yet it just keeps wandering around With only this, — My Joy! my Life! my Crown!’

It is to me so exquisitely significant of the joy and peace that floods one’s whole being, but does not very readily find words, except in those already familiar to it, like those Psalm utterances,—or like sometimes fragments of our own dear Liturgy or hymns;—and I think that is perhaps one of the greatest uses and values of such things. In the deep struggle times, one of the things that helped me most of all was always those glorious words of consecration that reminded me of the cross on the brow ‘In token that thou shalt not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under His banner against the world, the flesh, and the devil, and to continue Christ’s faithful Soldier and servant unto thy life’s end!’ And again, the Communion words about ‘ourselves, our souls and bodies’.

It holds such deep meaning for me, embodying the joy and peace that fill one's entire being but are often hard to express. It comes out in familiar phrases, like those from the Psalms, or sometimes snippets from our beloved Liturgy or hymns. I believe that's one of the greatest benefits of these things. During my toughest times, what helped me the most were always those beautiful words of consecration that reminded me of the cross: “In token that thou shalt not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under His banner against the world, the flesh, and the devil, and to continue Christ’s faithful Soldier and servant unto thy life’s end!” And again, the Communion words about “ourselves, our souls and bodies.”

Oh, dear, how one does write on! But I think it pleases Mother, and I’m sure it helps me....

Oh, wow, how one just keeps writing! But I think it makes Mom happy, and I’m sure it helps me too....

I fancy my darling will be pleased to get a kiss from her little one 133to welcome her in London, as she cannot see her knight at Shoreditch!—dear old lady,—would she could! But, Mother, you would let Daddy go with you if you really wished for anyone? I tell you, as I have told you a hundred times before, how gladly your child will stay at home altogether if ever Mother really wishes for and wants her there, or will come from anywhere at any moment as rapidly as trains can bring her, if only Mother wishes for her for any purpose or none.”

I think my darling will be happy to get a kiss from her little one to welcome her in London since she can't see her knight at Shoreditch!—dear old lady—wouldn’t it be nice if she could! But, Mom, you would let Dad go with you if you really wanted someone, right? I tell you, as I've said a hundred times before, how gladly your child will stay at home completely if you ever really want her there, or will come from anywhere at any moment as fast as trains can bring her, if only you want her for any reason or none.

It is very unlikely that she gave those about her the impression of being dévote: that never was her way. The “spikes” Miss Octavia Hill referred to were probably in full evidence. In her diary she writes,—

It is very unlikely that she gave those around her the impression of being devout: that was never her style. The “spikes” Miss Octavia Hill mentioned were probably quite visible. In her diary, she writes,—

“A talk with Miss E. and Miss H. about the sacraments, and ‘preparation’. Miss Gruben instanced with horror,—‘In England a party the night before.’ I said, ‘The theatre, with all my heart.’ Exclamations. ‘If I could not take the Communion half an hour after leaving the theatre, I would never enter it.’ Then found myself in the disagreeable position of apparent Pharasaism. ‘Wish I were so good, etc!’ or hints like that. Yet surely, Octa? If there is a time when we cannot kneel for the Communion, that time should be blotted out. ‘Living to God’,—how that blends and binds all life!

A conversation with Miss E. and Miss H. about the sacraments and 'preparation.' Miss Gruben expressed her horror, saying, 'In England, a party the night before.' I replied, 'The theater, with all my heart.' There were exclamations. 'If I couldn't take Communion half an hour after leaving the theater, I would never go in.' Then I found myself in the uncomfortable position of seeming like a Pharisee. 'I wish I were that good, etc!' or hints like that. But surely, Octa? If there's a time when we can't kneel for Communion, that time should be erased. 'Living to God'—how that connects and unites all of life!

Today dear Mrs. Teed. God bless her! Yes, surely,—now she would not be hard on ‘prayer for the dead’. Yet what a noble soul! Ah, if she had lived,—if I could have justified myself to her whom I so respected. But, as Dora says, she knows it all now! Perhaps her spirit sees and sympathises with mine that looks with such love to her footsteps gone before. In life she would have disapproved of some things,—now at least she will see motives. ‘I believe in the communion of saints.’...

Today, dear Mrs. Teed. God bless her! Yes, surely—she wouldn’t be harsh about ‘prayer for the dead.’ Yet, what a noble soul! Ah, if she had lived—if I could have justified myself to someone I respected so much. But, as Dora says, she knows everything now! Maybe her spirit sees and sympathizes with mine that looks back at her footsteps with such love. In life, she would have disapproved of some things—now at least she will understand the intentions. ‘I believe in the communion of saints.’...

Just been reading C. Brontë. Moved me almost to tears. What honour and blessing to have dried some of those tears,—filled some void in that heart. And yet doubtless ‘He has fixed it well’. At least she and I and a multitude that no man can number all form portions of the Hosts of the Lord.... And it is the work—not our pleasure. The scattering is part of the benefit.

Just finished reading C. Brontë. It almost brought me to tears. What an honor and blessing it was to have dried some of those tears and filled a void in that heart. And yet, surely, "He has arranged it well." At least she, I, and countless others are all part of the Hosts of the Lord.... And it's about the work—not our pleasure. The scattering is part of the benefit.

Ah, the Land of the Leal! The banishment past,—the solitude,—the tears,—the struggle. In hoc signo. ‘The Lord shall wipe away all tears from off all faces’.”

Ah, the Land of the Loyal! The past of being banished—the loneliness—the tears—the struggle. In this sign. ‘The Lord will wipe away all tears from every face.’”

At this time she was extraordinarily happy in her work.

At that moment, she was incredibly happy with her job.

“How can people paint a teacher’s life as always such a suffering one! My room now quite a little Paradise. Frl. von Palaus up 134about it again this morning.... Now only some ivy and a tin pot wanted!

“How can people depict a teacher’s life as always being so miserable! My room is now like a little Paradise. Ms. von Palaus was around it again this morning.... Now I just need some ivy and a tin pot!”

My Schematism [?] very light. Certainly they take a generously liberal view of ‘earning my bread’. Well, at all events it shall be well earned, if not largely. I’m half afraid of myself now that I have the responsibility of 25 English pupils. I am really very anxious to get them on so well and so rapidly as to convince the world of the wisdom of having an English teacher!”

My way of thinking is pretty relaxed. They definitely have a broad interpretation of "earning my keep." Anyway, it will be well earned, even if not a lot. I'm a bit nervous about myself now that I have the responsibility of 25 English students. I really want to help them improve quickly enough to prove to everyone that having an English teacher was a smart idea!

How thoroughly she succeeded in this aim may be gathered from the letter of one of her pupils written a few months later,—

How completely she achieved this goal can be seen in a letter from one of her students written a few months later,—

“We now have an English mistress. Miss Blake, and she gives us so many things to do that I am already too fatigued to entertain me any longer with you: she is an inhabitant of your land, and, if all people are so diligent there, it is a wonder that you are not all philosophers.”

“We now have an English teacher, Miss Blake, and she gives us so many assignments that I’m already too tired to chat with you any longer. She’s from your country, and if everyone there works as hard as she does, it’s amazing that you’re not all philosophers.”

Her diary abounds with shrewd and genial criticisms of her fellow-teachers. Of one whom she rather disliked, she says:

Her diary is filled with sharp and friendly critiques of her fellow teachers. Of one she didn't particularly like, she says:

“Miss D. has greatly laughed herself into my good books,—such a cheery simple merry laugh. I don’t think anything very bad could hide under such a laugh at her age.”

“Miss D. has really won me over with her delightful, cheerful laugh. I don’t think anything too bad could possibly lie beneath such a laugh at her age.”

And again,—

And again, —

“That good Frl. von Palaus! Well might I today liken her to a sunbeam! How she lights up the very house,—how bright burns her lamp,—yet how simply!”

“That good Miss von Palaus! I could really compare her to a sunbeam today! She brightens up the whole house—her lamp burns so brightly—but she does it all so simply!”

No wonder her letters were a joy to the Mother watching at home.

No surprise her letters were a delight to the Mother waiting at home.

“Your letter has cheered me and done me good,” she writes on Christmas day, “taking away the clouds in a great measure, that would hang over a day that owed so much of its brightness to your dear presence; but truly, as you say, we have a far truer unity and a sympathy which I fear might never have come but through trial and separation.”

“Your letter has lifted my spirits and has been really good for me,” she writes on Christmas Day, “removing a lot of the shadows that would have lingered over a day that owes so much of its joy to your dear presence; but honestly, as you said, we have a much deeper connection and a bond that I worry might never have developed without challenges and distance.”

Life was not all spent on the mountain heights, of course. Even at this time she had her ups and downs like other people. Here is one of the “downs”:

Life wasn't just spent at the mountain heights, of course. Even during this time, she had her ups and downs like everyone else. Here’s one of the “downs”:

“Who is sufficient for these things? seems my whole cry today. I don’t know why especially, but I seem so oppressed with a sense of the greatness, the weight of my work,—and of my own miserable 135insufficiency for it. Oh, so weak and stupid and unfit! And it isn’t humility,—it’s just truth.

“Who is enough for all this? That’s what I keep thinking today. I’m not sure why, but I feel overwhelmed by the significance and burden of my work—and my own inadequacy for it. Oh, I feel so weak, foolish, and unqualified! And it’s not humility—it’s just the truth.”

I’m horribly showy,—always (voluntarily or not) deceiving people into a belief into talents I haven’t. Then I’ve will enough and would work, but no health or strength for it. That’s not your doing, S. J-B. ‘Hath not the Potter—?’

I’m really flashy—always (whether I mean to or not) fooling people into thinking I have talents I don’t actually have. I have the will to work, but I lack the health or strength for it. That’s not your fault, S. J-B. ‘Hath not the Potter—?’

Besides, you’ll never be called upon to do what you can’t. God will give you power or send another in your stead.... And ‘who is sufficient?’ ‘My Grace is sufficient’.

Besides, you’ll never be asked to do what you can’t handle. God will give you strength or send someone else to take your place.... And ‘who is capable?’ ‘My grace is enough.’

Yet I am thankful, too, for even this fit of despair or at least downheartedness,—for I was fearing horribly, lest, my whole heart being bent on one hope and plan, I might be too far identifying my success with it, lest I might be seeking to win something for myself,—not simply to see God’s will done by me or without me. And from the bottom of my heart did go up, ‘Lord, put me aside utterly if need be!—and here, perhaps, the answer.’”answer.’”

Yet I'm grateful for this moment of despair or at least feeling down—because I was really scared that by putting all my hope and plans into one thing, I might end up tying my success too closely to it. I didn't want to be trying to gain something for myself, but rather to see God's will accomplished, whether through me or without me. And from the depths of my heart, I prayed, "Lord, if necessary, set me aside completely!—and maybe here lies the answer.answer.’”

She did not always take her reactions so seriously:

She didn't always take her reactions so seriously:

“Cold. Therefore rather cross and grumbling. Prowling about the corridors with shoulders nearly up to my ears, mind do. And I fool and sybarite enough to conjure up pictures of a certain dainty little room with blazing fire.... ‘Shame on ye, Gallants, wha ride not readily!’... Well, well, indeed it was not really a grumble,—only a John Bull growl. You don’t think I really give in an inch for such nonsense?

“Cold. So I’m feeling pretty grumpy and complaining. Wandering around the hallways with my shoulders almost to my ears, I do. And I’m foolish enough to picture a cozy little room with a roaring fire.... ‘Shame on you, gentlemen, who don’t ride without hesitation!’... Well, it wasn’t really a complaint—just a classic British grumble. You don’t think I actually let it bother me that much, do you?”

No. Well, there, that’ll do.

No. Well, that’s enough.

As well to grumble to my book as to poor small folk downstairs, who want bracing not enervating.

As much as to complain to my book, as to the poor folks downstairs, who need something energizing, not draining.

Granted. But why either?

Granted. But why either one?

Oh, now you’re infringing the liberty of the press! I may write anything that wells up.

Oh, now you’re violating freedom of the press! I can write anything that comes to mind.

There, there!—pax.”

There, there!—peace.

This is one of the many dialogues between “The Infantine” and “The Estimable,” as she called them. Greatly did her Mother appreciate the titles.

This is one of the many conversations between “The Infantine” and “The Estimable,” as she referred to them. Her mother valued those titles a lot.

A few weeks later, after some words of yearning for a “comprehending ear,” a “sympathetic hand,” she breaks off abruptly with,—“Heigh ho! Shut up Grumbles! ‘a cussin’ and a swearin’ like that,’ as long coz would say.”

A few weeks later, after expressing a desire for a “listening ear” and a “caring hand,” she suddenly cuts off with, “Well, whatever! Stop complaining, Grumbles! ‘cursing and swearing like that,’ as Long Coz would say.”

Greater troubles were in store than those constituted by cold dark mornings. No mention is made in the prospectus given above of holidays, and Mrs. Jex-Blake in her letters complains much of the “No holiday” system. Apparently 136the boarders only went home for a few days at a time, and for months together S. J.-B. does not seem to have slept away from the Institut for a single night. It was no wonder if, under these conditions, teachers and pupils “got on each other’s nerves,” and among Frl. von Palaus’ many qualifications was not that of being a strict disciplinarian. When the novelty wore off, the girls, after the fashion of their kind, began to try how far they could go with the English governess. As may be imagined from her previous history, S. J.-B., though an admirable teacher, did not show herself particularly strong in the matter of keeping order. The pupils found out their power of “tormenting” her, and the delicacy of their feeling may be gauged by the fact that on one occasion they gaily charged her with having “weeped in church” (“False, by the bye, in fact,” she says in her diary). With delightful naïveté they summed up the things she could not do. She could not sing, nor play, nor dance, nor paint, nor embroider?—“What can you do, Miss Blake?”

Greater troubles were ahead than just cold, dark mornings. The prospectus mentioned above doesn’t say anything about holidays, and Mrs. Jex-Blake often complained about the "no holiday" policy in her letters. It seems the boarders only got to go home for a few days at a time, and for months, S. J.-B. didn’t seem to have spent a single night away from the Institut. It’s no surprise that, under these conditions, teachers and students “got on each other’s nerves,” and one of Frl. von Palaus’ many qualifications wasn’t being a strict disciplinarian. Once the novelty wore off, the girls, as is typical for their age, began to test the limits with the English governess. As you might guess from her background, S. J.-B., though an excellent teacher, wasn't particularly strong at maintaining order. The students discovered how to “torment” her, and their subtlety is shown by the fact that, on one occasion, they cheerfully accused her of having “weeped in church” (“False, by the way, in fact,” she noted in her diary). With charming naivety, they listed the things she couldn’t do. She couldn’t sing, play, dance, paint, or embroider?—“What can you do, Miss Blake?”

Of course she would have thought it unworthy of her to mention the things she had done and could do. Moreover, for reasons given above, she was spending a minimum of money, and vulgar schoolgirls drew their own conclusions. She sometimes admits with remorse that she was hasty and unjust in little things,^[34] and, although there is no indication that she ever fell into the tempests of passion that characterized her girlhood, she owns that she often assumed a stony indifference, which, of course, though she did not know it, was a great deal worse. All the time (so her diary shows) she was almost agonizing over these children, longing really to get into touch and fire them with her own zeal; she did not scruple to talk to them seriously and individually about the great issues of life; but when the magnetic influence of the interview was over, they felt a certain inconsistency in her, a hastiness, a failure to conform to conventional standards of right and wrong, a want of equity, or at least of equableness, 137of which she herself was almost unaware. “But oh, where is the special flaw?” she cries in her diary. “Lord help me! ‘Thou wilt not pity us the less’—that fault of my own forms my cross.”

Of course, she would have thought it beneath her to mention the things she had done and could do. Moreover, for the reasons mentioned earlier, she was spending as little money as possible, and the petty schoolgirls drew their own conclusions. She sometimes admits with regret that she was quick and unfair in minor matters,^[34] and although there's no sign that she ever fell into the passionate storms that marked her youth, she admits that she often put on a cold indifference, which, of course, though she didn’t realize it, was much worse. All the while (as her diary reveals), she was almost suffering over these kids, genuinely wanting to connect with them and ignite her own enthusiasm in them; she didn't hesitate to talk to them earnestly and individually about the important issues of life; but once the impactful conversation was over, they sensed a certain inconsistency in her, a rashness, a failure to align with conventional ideas of right and wrong, a lack of fairness, or at least of steadiness, 137 of which she was mostly unaware. “But oh, where is the specific flaw?” she cries in her diary. “Lord help me! ‘Thou wilt not pity us the less’—that fault of mine is my burden.”

In any case her pupils felt the flaw. Her conscientiousness, her zeal, her fine uprightness were more or less lost on them, or so it seemed. A cheaper form of goodness would have appealed to them more.

In any case, her students sensed the flaw. Her dedication, her enthusiasm, her strong integrity didn’t quite resonate with them, or so it appeared. A simpler kind of goodness would have attracted them more.

She never spoke of her home life and circumstances, and probably even Frl. von Palaus had very little idea that the English governess was a woman of family and position.

She never talked about her home life or her situation, and probably even Miss von Palaus had very little idea that the English governess came from a family of means.

“Oh, how weary I am after those hours of struggle internal and external!” writes S. J.-B. in her diary. “Almost like being tied to a stake,—so suffering, so helpless. And this I?—who used to fancy I had power to rule! Two months more will see me well nigh home I trust. Some faint foreshadowing of ‘Then are they glad because they are at rest.’ The thoughts of my green nest, and of the ruddy firelight, and the hymns at Mother’s knee very frequent in these days of struggle.”

“Oh, how tired I am after those hours of inner and outer struggle!” writes S. J.-B. in her diary. “It almost feels like being tied to a stake—so much suffering, so helpless. And me?—who used to think I had the power to control everything! I hope that in two more months I’ll be almost home. I can faintly sense the feeling of ‘Then they are glad because they are at rest.’ Thoughts of my cozy home, the warm firelight, and the hymns at my mother’s knee come to me often during these challenging days.”

She poured out the story of her failure to her Mother, and delightful were the letters she got in reply:

She shared the story of her failure with her mom, and the replies she received were delightful:

“(Miss v. Palaus) will miss my darling and her unselfish love terribly when she leaves.... Without any great vanity you must know that your hearty ready help must be most refreshing to her, and your wide-awake state must have a great influence over the Girls.”

“(Miss v. Palaus) will really miss my darling and her selfless love when she leaves.... Without sounding too vain, you have to realize that your enthusiastic support is incredibly refreshing for her, and your alertness must greatly impact the Girls.”

“I cannot believe that your work has been done as indifferently as you think. I believe you have always done what you could, and fought hard against feelings and every form of indolence or selfishness. Surely you could somehow raise some response to fun; only perhaps a good deal arises from your being English and they not understanding.”

“I can’t believe your work has been done as carelessly as you think. I believe you’ve always done your best and fought hard against apathy and selfishness. Surely, you could somehow stir up some fun; maybe a lot of it comes from being English and they just don’t get it.”

In spite of all, however, the trouble went deep, and she chronicles sadly in her diary that “neither moon nor stars for many days appeared.” Oddly enough, she never seems to have entertained the idea of simply giving in her resignation and going home. She entirely meant to serve her time,—nay more,—to hold the position until some suitable person was found to carry on her work. Certainly it was not the acquisition of the language that served as an inducement to 138remain, for, throughout her stay, she learned almost incredibly little. The whole of her very limited energy was thrown into her teaching.

Despite everything, the trouble ran deep, and she sadly notes in her diary that “neither the moon nor stars appeared for many days.” Surprisingly, she never seemed to consider resigning and going home. She fully intended to serve her term—actually, she wanted to hold the position until someone suitable was found to take over her work. It definitely wasn’t the language acquisition that motivated her to stay, as she learned almost nothing during her time there. All of her limited energy was focused on her teaching.

“The hearty praise pouring in for the girls’ progress,progress, ought to comfort me there,” she says. “I suppose they almost certainly have got on more rapidly than with 9 teachers out of 10.”

“The enthusiastic compliments coming in for the girls’ progress,progress, should give me some reassurance,” she says. “I guess they’ve probably advanced faster than most students with 9 out of 10 teachers.”

One is glad to learn that months before she left Mannheim, the tide of popularity turned; and, although even she attributed the change in great part to the fact of her having worn a “ravissant” gown at the School Carnival Ball (a gown which she had worn as a bridesmaid in England) she was glad to respond by expanding good spirits to the diminished pressure. So the pretty frock served its turn. “There’s no doubt about it that opinion altogether has veered round widely about me. I think I am rather popular now,—I certainly was thoroughly the contrary.”

One is happy to learn that a few months before she left Mannheim, the tide of popularity shifted; and, although she credited the change mainly to wearing a “ravissant” gown at the School Carnival Ball (a gown she had worn as a bridesmaid in England), she was pleased to lift her spirits with the reduced pressure. So, the pretty dress did its job. “There’s no doubt that people’s opinions about me have changed a lot. I think I’m pretty popular now—I definitely was the complete opposite.”

She was, until the later years of her life, wanting in sympathy with the more or less innocent and pardonable vanities of youth, and yet during this period she did sometimes cry out for a more vivid life,—or rather for days and hours of greater vividness to break the monotony of the working life she had deliberately chosen. It was one of her ambitions to be duly presented to Queen Victoria, for whom throughout life she had a great admiration, but the ambition was never realized.

She was, until her later years, lacking in sympathy for the more or less innocent and excusable vanities of youth. Yet during this time, she did occasionally long for a more vibrant life—or rather for days and moments of greater excitement to break the monotony of the working life she had intentionally chosen. One of her ambitions was to be formally presented to Queen Victoria, whom she admired greatly throughout her life, but that ambition was never fulfilled.

“Darling,” writes her Mother, in answer to a very human cry, “your young bright days are nobly spent for the Lord. Shall we offer Him that which costs us nothing?... There always has been (though probably not necessarily) so much that is false, impure and hollow connected with most of what are termed amusements that you would soon loathe them, and feel work and even discipline more satisfying.” But never for one moment from her twentieth year onwards did S. J.-B. ask for amusement and vividness in place of work and discipline.

“Darling,” her mother writes in response to a very human plea, “you're spending your youth wonderfully for the Lord. Should we offer Him something that doesn't cost us anything? There has always been (though not necessarily) a lot that is false, impure, and shallow linked to most things we call entertainment, which would make you quickly despise them and find work and even discipline more rewarding.” But never, from her twentieth year onward, did S. J.-B. seek entertainment and excitement instead of work and discipline.

She might have found recreation and stimulus in the music of Germany, but her chief limitation was on the side of Art. Music did not appeal to her, and, although one of her greatest gifts was the possession of a beautiful speaking voice, with 139a perfect natural production, she could not sing and had no ear for music at all. She argues with herself on the subject,—“Surely singing, for instance, is a wholesome and good amusement. Surely it is right that some should contribute it for others? Yet, perhaps, mere amusement, even for others, is not a life-work for anyone? At least unless as a duty. So few sing, as Fra Bartolomeo painted, ‘on their knees’.”

She might have found enjoyment and inspiration in German music, but her main limitation was related to Art. Music didn't resonate with her, and even though one of her greatest gifts was her beautiful speaking voice with perfect natural production, she couldn't sing and had no ear for music at all. She debates with herself about it—"Surely singing, for example, is a healthy and good pastime. Surely it's right for some people to share it with others? Yet, maybe just providing entertainment for others isn’t a meaningful life’s work for anyone? At least not unless it’s done as a duty. So few sing, as Fra Bartolomeo depicted, ‘on their knees’.”

This is estimable enough so far as it goes, but artistic perception is wanting, and throughout life she never got much farther in this direction, though she always loved to hear a simple congenial song sung by one she loved. “Do you care for the ‘unlearned praise’?” she used to say. When she quoted, as she sometimes did, “’Tis we musicians who know,”—it was not of music she was thinking.

This is impressive to a certain extent, but she lacked artistic perception, and throughout her life, she never ventured much further in that regard, even though she always enjoyed listening to a simple, relatable song sung by someone she cared about. "Do you appreciate the 'unlearned praise'?" she would ask. When she quoted, as she sometimes did, "'Tis we musicians who know," it wasn’t music that she had in mind.

All through this period her main preoccupation was with religion. She was reading, among other things, the In Memoriam and Robertson’s Sermons, and she continued to read them till the end of her life. Her volumes of Robertson are falling to pieces with sheer honest careful lifelong use, and many of the sermons are marked with a date and with initials to remind her of the times when she shared her treasure with some special friend. Assuredly, in the words of her loved quotation, Robertson “found her.” Living, as she was at this time however, mainly among Roman Catholics, she felt—as so many have felt—a real desire to share their communion.

Throughout this time, her main focus was on religion. She read, among other things, In Memoriam and Robertson’s Sermons, and she kept reading them until the end of her life. Her copies of Robertson are falling apart from being used so honestly and carefully over the years, and many of the sermons have dates and initials written in them to remind her of the times she shared her treasure with close friends. Indeed, in the words of her favorite quote, Robertson “found her.” However, living mainly among Roman Catholics during this period, she felt—a sentiment many have experienced—a genuine desire to share in their communion.

“I mean to study Romanism as thoroughly as I can,” she says. “Hitherto I have not by any means found, as C. Brontë, my repugnance to Roman Catholicism increased by close view.”

“I plan to study Romanism as thoroughly as I can,” she says. “Until now, I haven't found, like C. Brontë, that my dislike for Roman Catholicism has grown with closer inspection.”

She was anxious to get a proper breviary or missal, and apparently finding this difficult in Mannheim, she wrote to her Mother to send her one. That wonderful old lady! She can’t have enjoyed the commission, but she set about the fulfilment of it most loyally. And, oddly enough, she too met with many difficulties. She declined to be put off with The Garden of the Soul, and finally she writes:

She was eager to get a proper prayer book or missal, and since she was having trouble finding one in Mannheim, she wrote to her mom asking her to send one. That amazing old lady! She probably didn’t enjoy the task, but she tackled it with great loyalty. And, strangely enough, she faced a lot of challenges too. She refused to settle for The Garden of the Soul, and eventually, she wrote:

“I despair of getting a satisfactory breviary, unless you can send me definite orders for Treacher to procure one. Marvellous rubbish 140at the only R.C. shop. They were very anxious to fetch the R.C. priest!—to help me,—‘were sure he was within.’ Fancy if Daddy had come by, with the carriage at the door and I inside in deep conversation with said Priest!...”

“I’m really frustrated about getting a decent breviary unless you can send me clear instructions for Treacher to get one. There’s amazing garbage at the only R.C. shop. They were very eager to bring in the R.C. priest to help me—‘they were sure he was around.’ Just imagine if Daddy had stopped by, with the carriage waiting outside and I inside having a deep conversation with that priest!...”

No, there never was such a Mother! Her openness of mind shows itself in a hundred extracts. “I do not fairly know Thomas à Kempis,” she says. “The passage you quoted was very grand and beautiful.” “I wonder if you will care for my extract from Pusey in the ‘Times’. I always think there is such a chastened, disciplined spirit in what he writes,—no pepper, nor vinegar.” “If I were obliged to have a great deal of company, I should, I doubt not, feel ‘Lent’ a grand repose and comfort; as it is, I am disposed to kick at it as artificial.”

No, there was never such a Mother! Her open-mindedness is clear in a hundred quotes. “I don’t really know Thomas à Kempis,” she says. “The quote you mentioned was very grand and beautiful.” “I wonder if you’d like my quote from Pusey in the ‘Times’. I always think there’s such a refined, disciplined spirit in what he writes—no spice, no bitterness.” “If I had to host a lot of guests, I think I’d find ‘Lent’ a great source of rest and comfort; as it is, I’m inclined to push against it as being too artificial.”

And she is no longer afraid to express her loving appreciation.

And she’s no longer afraid to express her love and gratitude.

“I don’t call you so much a ‘sweet-tempered’ as an ‘excellent-natured’ girl,—most unselfish, energetic, and at all times ready in the behalf of others. A regular ‘sweet temper’ is rarely found with very strong deep feelings.... I don’t think there ever was such true love as your’s—unless it be her’s under disguise. You would not now be able to stand alone as you do had circumstances not separated you. God has two great works,—one for her, one for you.”

“I wouldn’t describe you as simply ‘sweet-tempered’ but rather as an ‘excellent-natured’ girl—very unselfish, energetic, and always ready to help others. A true ‘sweet temper’ is rarely found with very strong, deep feelings… I don’t think there has ever been a love as genuine as yours—unless it’s hers in disguise. You wouldn’t be able to stand on your own as you do now if circumstances hadn’t separated you. God has two important purposes—one for her, one for you.”

“I am quite sure, by pouring out your heart to me, you help me on as well as yourself. You bring before me such strengthening texts and poetry, and our hearts get so very closely knit. It may seem selfish to say so, but your sorrows have greatly enhanced my joys by bringing us close, and, as it were, entwining us inseparably.”

“I’m really sure that by sharing your feelings with me, you’re helping both of us. You present me with such uplifting quotes and poetry, and our hearts become so deeply connected. It might sound selfish to say this, but your struggles have really amplified my happiness by bringing us closer together, almost intertwining us in a way that feels unbreakable.”

In a fine sermon on Old and Young, the late Bishop of Oxford dwells on the “tragedy going on in the life of many a home, ... as father and son or mother and daughter grow conscious, sometimes with silent pain, and sometimes with scarcely veiled resentment, of an ever-widening severance, a perpetual and almost irrevocable ebbing of sympathy and trust.” If any further proof were needed than has already been given of the wholeheartedness with which this mother and daughter resisted that tendency to severance and realized the sympathy and trust, it may be found in the correspondence that follows:

In a great sermon on Old and Young, the late Bishop of Oxford talks about the “tragedy happening in many homes, ... as fathers and sons or mothers and daughters become aware, sometimes with silent pain and sometimes with barely hidden resentment, of a growing distance, a constant and almost irreversible loss of sympathy and trust.” If any more evidence is needed beyond what has already been shown about how committed this mother and daughter were to resisting that disconnect and maintaining their sympathy and trust, it can be found in the correspondence that follows:

141

“Jan. 23rd, 1863. Friday night.

and Jan. 24th.

My own Darling Mother,—I’m right sorry you didn’t get your baby’s first morning greeting,—I went out on purpose to post the letter on Friday that you might. It’s very tiresome too that the other little messenger didn’t reach you,—however Mother knows it was sent, and it’s useless to risk sending more the same way; you shall get it in duplicate when I come home,—whenever that is.

Dear Mom,—I’m really sorry you didn’t get to see your baby’s first morning greeting,—I went out specifically to mail the letter on Friday so you would. It’s also frustrating that the other little messenger didn’t get to you,—but at least you know it was sent, and it’s pointless to try sending more that way; you’ll get it in duplicate when I come home,—whenever that may be.

Sometimes I think I ought to stay here till I have mastered my difficulties and learned to rule,—then again I see that years and years of my life will be but a learning of that lesson, and the great thing is to see how to dispose of them most wisely, not in obstinacy or in self-consenting even on a point like that. Besides month after month of unbroken work does come to tell on one, specially if one starts not over strong; and I feel myself looking forward with significant expectation to the coming rest (and still more, refreshment time) again,—to say nothing of seeing faces and hearing voices that I fancy may too not be sorry to see and hear mine again. I am watching the now really lengthening days almost like a schoolchild,—indeed I am tremendously much of a child yet, Mother,—and thinking how the days and weeks roll on and bring the homecoming nearer. Even if I returned here, I must have a holiday and not a very short one,—for I have got a good deal used one way or another,—though now I am again delightfully cheery and strong,—and able to work twice as well among the children when a laughing word comes instead of a weary one; and they feel it too, I am sure.

Sometimes I think I should stay here until I've mastered my challenges and learned to take charge—then again, I realize that years and years of my life would just be about learning that lesson. The important thing is to figure out how to use that time most wisely, not out of stubbornness or just pleasing myself, even on a point like that. Besides, months and months of continuous work do take a toll, especially if you start out not feeling so great; and I find myself looking forward with eager anticipation to the upcoming rest (and even more, refreshment time)—not to mention seeing faces and hearing voices that I think might be glad to see and hear me again. I’m watching the days get longer almost like a schoolchild—honestly, I still feel like a child a lot, Mother—and thinking about how the days and weeks pass and bring me closer to coming home. Even if I came back here, I would need a break and not just a short one—because I have gotten quite accustomed to things one way or another—even though now I feel delightfully cheerful and strong again—and I can work twice as well with the kids when I’m able to share a laugh instead of feeling worn out; and I’m sure they can feel it too.

I shall be very curious to read Colenso’s book,—will you send me its name, please? It is so very easy a way to get up a laugh (which somebody calls the Devil’s keenest sword) against opinions or people you don’t agree with, by such a jest as that Colenso wants to turn ‘the Bible into Rule of Three sums’,—so much more easy than justifiable or Christian. It’s just a word which, said of a great Mathematician, is sure to ‘take’ whether there is any or no sense in it. People like to laugh and repeat what sounds sharp, and prove their own superiority (?) to such men as they can’t hope to get within 100 miles of in attainments.

I'm really curious to read Colenso’s book—could you please send me the title? It's so easy to get a laugh (which someone calls the Devil’s sharpest weapon) at the expense of opinions or people you disagree with, by making a joke like Colenso wanting to turn 'the Bible into math problems'—that's much easier than being fair or Christian. It's just a phrase that, when said about a great mathematician, is guaranteed to get a reaction, whether it makes any sense or not. People love to laugh and repeat what sounds clever, proving their own superiority (?) to those they can’t even hope to reach in skills.

Besides in a certain non-sneering sense, it may really be true without inferring any blame. (I wonder if you like me to discuss the question or not? If not, just tear up the next page or two unread, that’s all.)

Besides, in a non-judgmental way, it might actually be true without placing any blame. (I wonder if you want me to talk about this or not? If not, just rip out the next page or two without reading them, and that’s it.)

The Rule of Three (as it is most absurdly called) is perhaps the purest form of development of the principle of Cause and Effect,—the principle that rules the world and lies at the root of all science and all logic. You see an effect,—it must have a corresponding cause. You are aware of a cause,—you imply with certainty 142answering effect. ‘To look through Nature up to Nature’s God’—is strictly (if you choose so to call it) a Rule of Three sum. Again,—‘These are Thy works, Parent of Good,—Thyself how wondrous then!’—a pure syllogism,—or, if you please, Rule of Three sum—thus:

The Rule of Three (as it's somewhat humorously named) is probably the most straightforward expression of the principle of Cause and Effect— the principle that governs the world and underpins all science and logic. You observe an effect— it must have a corresponding cause. You recognize a cause— you can definitively expect an answering effect. ‘To look through Nature up to Nature’s God’— is essentially (if you want to put it that way) a Rule of Three equation. Likewise, ‘These are Thy works, Parent of Good,— Thyself how wondrous then!’— is a clear syllogism—or, if you prefer, a Rule of Three equation—thus:

I.	The author must be greater than his works.
II.	God’s works are great beyond our conception.
III.	How infinite then their Maker!

Or, more beautiful and more sacred than all,—‘He that spared not His own Son ... how shall He not with Him freely give us all things?’

Or, more beautiful and more sacred than anything else—‘He who did not spare His own Son ... how will He not also graciously give us all things along with Him?’

The form of reasoning that St. Paul did not disdain to use need hardly be a reproach to Colenso.

The way of reasoning that St. Paul didn't hesitate to use shouldn't really be a criticism of Colenso.

God Himself does give us minds and does bid us use them,—He is not afraid of His truth standing in the sunlight, though some of His people are. Robertson draws out very beautifully how the Christ never sought blind credence,—superstitious belief even in His words because they were His. He never said ‘I say so,—there’s an end,’ (as so many of His followers like to put in His mouth). ‘If I say the Truth, why do ye not believe me?’—again, more exquisite still in its loving humility,—‘Though ye believe not me, believe the works’,—‘Search the Scriptures’ etc. etc.,—always praying them to test Him by His works, by the voice of their own conscience, by the testimony of their sacred books,—continually protesting against the idea of His own assumption of sovereign power, ‘I know nothing of Myself.’ But here I’m getting on another subject, and I’ll stop.

God Himself does give us minds and urges us to use them—He is not afraid of His truth being out in the open, even if some of His followers are. Robertson beautifully illustrates how Christ never wanted blind faith—superstitious belief in His words just because they were His. He never said, “I say so, and that’s that,” (as many of His followers like to claim). “If I speak the Truth, why don’t you believe me?”—and even more delicately expressing His loving humility—“Even if you don’t believe me, believe the works,”—“Search the Scriptures,” and so on—constantly encouraging them to test Him by His actions, by their own conscience, by the evidence in their sacred texts—always rejecting the idea of His own claim to absolute power, “I know nothing of Myself.” But I’m veering off topic, so I’ll stop here.

But I always get greatly interested in a discussion about the Bible,—people seem to me often so hopelessly superstitious and illogical about it, and so to miss its truest, most blessed meaning.

But I always find myself really interested in discussions about the Bible—people often seem so hopelessly superstitious and illogical about it, missing its truest and most beautiful meaning.

It always seems to me that the question divides itself into two perfectly distinct parts,—regarding, so to speak, the spiritual and temporal part of the Bible. The first is entirely without the province of the intellect or the reason,—‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, ... but God hath revealed them unto us by His spirit.’ As Colani says (I think, indeed, it was him I quoted before) it is not a question of logic or of evidence whether we believe ‘the sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart, O God Thou wilt not despise!’,—the certainty of its truth is self-evident to us; we are absolutely sure the moment we hear the words that the All-Good rejoices in repentance and not in blood. It is the word of God from without speaking to the Spirit of God within us ‘whose temples we are.’ In Coleridge’s forcible words, ‘it finds us’,—it pierces through ear and brain irresistibly to the spirit of every man. Yes, every man; there is not one in the world however debased who 143could doubt whether God preferred a broken heart or a costly gift. He may not think about it, he may let the words pass by him, but, receiving them at all into his mind, he cannot doubt....

It always seems to me that the question breaks down into two completely separate parts—one dealing with the spiritual aspect and the other with the material aspect of the Bible. The first one is completely beyond the realm of intellect or reason—‘Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, ... but God has revealed them to us by His Spirit.’ As Colani says (I think I quoted him before), it’s not about logic or evidence whether we believe ‘the sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart; O God, you will not despise!’—the certainty of its truth is obvious to us; we are absolutely certain the moment we hear those words that the All-Good rejoices in repentance rather than in blood. It is the word of God from outside speaking to the Spirit of God within us ‘whose temples we are.’ In Coleridge’s powerful words, ‘it finds us’—it cuts through ear and brain irresistibly to the spirit of every person. Yes, every person; there isn’t one in the world, no matter how degraded, who 143could doubt whether God prefers a broken heart to a costly gift. They may not think about it, they may let the words go by, but if they let them into their mind at all, they cannot doubt....

Feel,—suffer, and words like those bring their own proof; let them once enter and you need not ask whether their truth is received or not. ‘Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.’ We know it is so; no one in the world could really doubt for one second whether holiness or impurity brings the man to God,—to see Him....

Feelings and suffering provide their own proof; once they enter, you don't have to question whether their truth is accepted or not. 'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.' We know this is true; no one in the world could genuinely doubt for even a moment whether holiness or impurity brings a person to God—to see Him...

In all this the whole mass of ‘Evidence’ goes for absolutely nothing. If the Bible had never been heard of to this moment, and I picked it off a dunghill, those words and truths would just as irresistibly transfix and ‘find’ me as a two-edged sword.

In all of this, the entire weight of ‘Evidence’ amounts to nothing at all. If the Bible had never been known until now, and I found it on a rubbish heap, those words and truths would still pierce and 'reach' me just as powerfully as a double-edged sword.

But since, as Pulsford says, ‘Most people get their faith through their heart, not through their head,’—there are thousands of God’s children who, seeing and feeling the infinite beauty and pricelessness of these words and truths,—but not seeing fully their infinite omnipotence, their absolute impregnability,—fancy that to preserve from the slightest danger what is to them so infinitely precious, it is necessary to claim for the whole casket the same authority and value that the jewel claims for itself: and then, because this claim does not and cannot maintain itself, they rush to arms for it and brand as ‘rejectors of the Bible’ some who, like your child, find in its words the very deepest blessings of existence....

But since, as Pulsford says, "Most people get their faith through their heart, not through their head," there are thousands of God’s children who, seeing and feeling the endless beauty and pricelessness of these words and truths—but not fully recognizing their infinite power and absolute strength—believe that to protect what is so incredibly precious to them, they must claim the same authority and value for the whole casket as the jewel claims for itself. And then, because this claim can’t support itself, they rush to defend it and label as ‘rejectors of the Bible’ some who, like your child, find in its words the deepest blessings of existence....

I don’t know enough about it to have an opinion worth anything, but as far as I can judge, it seems to me the result of open fair criticism rather establishes than disturbs the veracity of all Jewish history as given in the Bible since the time of Moses, while it does not seem to me possible satisfactorily to defend the authenticity of the account of the Creation and probably the first few centuries,—both from the certainties of Geology and probabilities of history, and also from the internal evidence.

I don’t know enough about it to have a valuable opinion, but from what I can tell, open and honest criticism seems to support rather than undermine the truth of all Jewish history as described in the Bible since the time of Moses. However, I don’t think it’s possible to convincingly defend the authenticity of the Creation account and probably the first few centuries—both because of geological certainties and historical probabilities, as well as internal evidence.

But what is the leading point to me is the folly of trying to arrest honest investigation about anything,—and the especial mistake of fancying that any result arrived at could touch the real standing and position of the Bible. For myself, I can say in all sincerity that if not one fraction only but the whole biblical history were proved to be utterly unreliable and mistaken, it would not make the difference of a straw’s weight either to my life or my faith,—it is not as a rival of Herodotus that I have valued the Bible,—the destruction of the historical credit of the one would matter just as much to me as that of the other. We might lose some grand illustrations of God’s love and care, but the truths would remain, and the history of any century, of any land, of any man, leaves Him not ‘without a witness’....

But what really matters to me is the foolishness of trying to stop honest investigation about anything—and the particular mistake of thinking that any conclusion reached could affect the true standing and position of the Bible. Personally, I can say with complete honesty that if not just a fragment but the entire biblical history were proven to be completely unreliable and wrong, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to my life or my faith. I don't value the Bible as a competitor to Herodotus; the loss of historical credibility for one would matter to me just as much as the other. We might miss some great illustrations of God’s love and care, but the truths would still exist, and the history of any century, of any place, of any person, leaves Him not ‘without a witness’....

144Well, Mother, it has indeed been more than a page or two,—if it pains or wearies you do but burn it; but I am glad from the bottom of my heart to tell you honestly what and why I believe on a subject where I fear Mother is a little afraid of me;—to put at least calmly and clearly before you other thoughts and words than those you hear oftenest,—not that you may accept, but that you may consider them. For you as for me, Mother, God ‘shall lead us into all truth’.

144Well, Mom, it’s definitely been more than a page or two—if it bothers or tires you, just burn it. But I’m truly glad to share with you what I believe and why, especially on a topic where I think you might be a bit worried about my views. I want to present to you some different thoughts and ideas than the ones you usually hear—not so you have to accept them, but so you can think about them. For you, just like for me, Mom, God will guide us into all truth.

Sunday. You asked me about Miss v. Palaus. She isn’t ill now, but I think she suffers altogether from this terrible ‘no holiday’ system. Think what it is to go on for 26 years!—with only a week’s break at a time, and that perhaps once a year.

Sunday. You asked me about Miss v. Palaus. She’s not sick right now, but I think she’s really struggling with this awful ‘no holiday’ system. Just imagine going on like that for 26 years!—with only a week off at a time, and maybe just once a year.

Dear, I broke off abruptly, it occurring to me to apply the principle of how bad it was to go on without change and how one was bound to get all one could; also that it was a bright day and that I was no use where I was, so had better go to Heidelberg....

Dear, I stopped suddenly, realizing that it was wrong to keep going without making changes and that I should make the most of what I had; also, it was a sunny day, and I wasn't being helpful where I was, so I might as well head to Heidelberg....

The sermon was about sorrow and bereavement, commonplace enough and disagreeable sometimes, but chiming in in bits with some thoughts of mine. For one thing he said it was a duty to rouse oneself after a time and go back to one’s daily work. Now, Mother, you know better than anyone how I have strained every sinew to take up my tool again and work on, from the very first months even. But there is a certain state of things which I can’t honestly conceal from myself which makes the struggle in some ways a very terrible one.

The sermon was about grief and loss, pretty typical and sometimes unpleasant, but it resonated with some thoughts I had. One point he made was that it’s important to shake yourself off after a while and return to your daily tasks. Now, Mom, you know better than anyone how I’ve worked hard to pick up my tools and keep going, right from the very start. But there’s a situation I can’t genuinely ignore that makes the struggle really difficult in some ways.

I am sure ‘what is is best’, and I don’t say one word in the form even of sorrow, only of perplexity. But, Mother, I haven’t the least the mind I had,—I have waited and waited to see if they would not waken but now for nearly 18 months my mental powers seem struck with stupor. It’s no use urging them,—they don’t answer the call. The love and power of mental work seem to have faded away. I just jog on from day to day with sense enough for daily life perhaps,—but I don’t seem to get any nearer any return of intellects. I won’t say it would have been better—because if it would, it would have been so—but I don’t doubt if I had had a crushing physical illness last Xmas, the agony would have exhausted itself and I probably risen from a brain fever as strong as ever,—but no physical relief coming in this form, the whole weight seems to have fallen on my brain and paralyzed it. My whole mind sometimes seems a blank,—the children ask me simple questions and I know nothing. Sometimes it’s hard work to crush back the tears when it is so.

I know that "what is, is best," and I don’t express anything except confusion, not even sorrow. But, Mom, I don’t have the same mind I did—I've waited and waited to see if they would wake up, but now, after almost 18 months, my mental abilities feel completely dulled. There’s no point in pushing them; they don’t respond to the call. The passion and ability for mental work seem to have disappeared. I just go through the motions of daily life, maybe managing enough sense for that, but I don’t feel like I’m getting any closer to regaining my intellect. I won’t say it would have been better—because if it would have been, it would have happened—but I don’t doubt that if I had suffered a severe physical illness last Christmas, the pain would have worn me out, and I would have likely emerged from a fever as strong as ever. But without any physical relief coming in that way, the whole burden seems to have landed on my brain and paralyzed it. Sometimes my mind feels completely blank—the kids ask me simple questions, and I have no answers. Sometimes it’s hard to hold back the tears when that happens.

You know those terrible (they did frighten me horribly) kinds of delusions that showed me a white dog or a wheelbarrow just when I was going to pull up when driving you.

You know those awful (they scared me so much) kinds of delusions that made me see a white dog or a wheelbarrow just when I was about to stop while driving you.

145Well, Mother, it’s no use to go on,—no use even to say ‘What am I to do?’ One feels sure in truth that God ‘will find a way’ and show it to me....

145Well, Mom, there's no point in continuing—no point in even asking 'What should I do?' I really believe that God 'will find a way' and show it to me....

But the time goes on and on, very many months already, and yet no streak of light comes from any quarter. One does not see the faintest sign of change, and yet one cannot see how things are permanently possible as they are.

But time keeps dragging on, and it’s been many months now, yet there’s still no sign of hope. There isn’t even the slightest indication that things are changing, and yet it’s hard to believe that things can stay the way they are forever.

You don’t think it is any want of will or effort in me, Mother? Surely God ‘reaps not where He has not strawed’.

You don’t think it’s a lack of will or effort on my part, Mom? Surely God doesn’t harvest where He hasn’t planted.

Oh, Mother, Mother, what it will be to rest the tired stupid old head on your bosom again.

Oh, Mom, Mom, how amazing it will be to rest my tired, weary head on your shoulder again.

80 lessons a week is too much I’m afraid for Ruth, but I can’t pretend to look after her when I’m in Germany,—and perhaps nobody gets on much the worse for that fact. It’s a very forcible rebuke to one’s vanity to find how little anybody is missed from anywhere, (except in their Mother’s hearts, darling) and one or two others perhaps. Yet that’s a hasty way to speak. I believe I do have a great deal of love from more people than I deserve....

80 lessons a week is too much for Ruth, but I can’t pretend to take care of her while I’m in Germany—and maybe nobody is really that worse off for it. It’s a strong reminder of how little anyone is actually missed (except in their mother's hearts, sweetheart) and maybe a few others. Still, that’s a quick judgment to make. I believe I do receive a lot of love from more people than I deserve....

Yours lovingly ever,

Soph.

Please tell me by what post this arrives.”

Please let me know how this arrived.

An able letter surely, for one whose “intellects” were worn out. Of course she fails to realize how different her whole outlook on life would have been if she had found the Bible for the first time accidentally in mature life, “on a dunghill” or elsewhere. The Mother’s reply is surely at least as able:

An impressive letter for someone whose “intellect” was exhausted. Of course, she doesn’t see how different her entire perspective on life would be if she had stumbled upon the Bible for the first time as an adult, “on a dunghill” or somewhere else. The Mother’s response is definitely just as impressive:

“Thursday, Jany. 29th.

My own Darling,

My own darling,

Your letter did not reach me till first post this morning. I quite believe Truth will in itself bear coming to the light, without suffering. But I do fear there are many minds, heads and hearts without one sentence of heavenly truth upon which to fall back for comfort, which may be irreparably injured by the doubt and contemptcontempt thrown upon historical parts; and thence deduce, ‘All is false, and cannot do me good or help me in any way.’ I think I must send you the last ‘Cornhill’ come in this afternoon. I imagine the critique in it is from a man who would favour free enquiry,—a son of Dr. Arnold’s,—Matthew Arnold. He says, ‘I censure Colenso’s book because, while it impresses strongly on the reader that the Pentateuch is not to be read as an authentic narrative; it so entirely fails to make him feel that it is a narrative full of divine instruction in morals and religion, etc., etc.’ I ought to have stated that all this comes in in a critique upon Stanley’s ‘Lectures on the 146Jews’, which Arnold greatly admires. Now that February is at hand, I find that the January! Macmillan has an actual critique upon Colenso. Shall I send it to you? I have not read it. I asked Hetty if she had. She considers it severe on Colenso. I think I shall send it.

Your letter didn’t reach me until the first post this morning. I truly believe that Truth can stand on its own when brought to light, without causing suffering. However, I’m concerned that many people—minds, heads, and hearts—lack even a single sentence of heavenly truth to lean on for comfort, and they could be irreparably harmed by the doubt and contemptcontempt directed at historical accounts; and from that, conclude, ‘Everything is false and can’t help me in any way.’ I think I need to send you the latest ‘Cornhill’ that came in this afternoon. I imagine the critique in it is from someone who supports free inquiry—a son of Dr. Arnold’s—Matthew Arnold. He says, ‘I criticize Colenso’s book because, while it strongly conveys to the reader that the Pentateuch shouldn’t be read as a factual narrative, it completely fails to make him feel that it’s a narrative rich in divine moral and religious guidance, etc., etc.’ I should have mentioned that this comes in a review of Stanley’s ‘Lectures on the 146Jews’, which Arnold greatly admires. Now that February is approaching, I see that the January! Macmillan has an actual review of Colenso. Should I send it to you? I haven’t read it. I asked Hetty if she had, and she thinks it's harsh on Colenso. I think I’ll send it.

Your long dissertation did not annoy or weary me at all, indeed it rejoiced mother’s heart. You seem to have all you want to live and die upon. What can you need more? Certainly I have individually great comfort and enjoyment from seeing Christ as my Substitute in a manner that I apprehend you do not. If it be, as I suppose, needful, I am sure your loving Father will give it you in His good time. As to your mental powers, it is very strange. We can only wait patiently and say, ‘It is the Lord. Let Him do what seemeth Him right’. I don’t suppose the important precious discipline you are going through could have been produced in time of full mental vigor. That will assuredly return if for your real good. Meanwhile you may well trust Him who has done such great things for you. I long as much as you to have you resting on my bosom. Rest you must have: refreshment of spirit I pray you may have.... Nothing, as you say, invalidates the grand truths responded to from within. At all times the Eternal God is thy refuge and underneath are the everlasting arms.

Your long dissertation didn't annoy or tire me at all; in fact, it made mother happy. It seems you have everything you need to live and die on. What more could you want? I certainly find great comfort and joy in seeing Christ as my Substitute in a way that I understand you don't. If it’s necessary, I’m sure your loving Father will give it to you in His own time. As for your mental abilities, it’s quite strange. We can only wait patiently and say, ‘It is the Lord. Let Him do what seems right to Him.’ I doubt that this important, valuable discipline you’re going through could have come during a time of full mental clarity. That will surely return if it’s for your real benefit. In the meantime, you can trust Him who has done such great things for you. I wish just as much as you do to have you resting in my embrace. You must have rest: I hope you can find refreshment for your spirit.... Nothing, as you say, undermines the great truths that resonate from within. At all times, the Eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.

Your loving Mother,

M. E. Jex-Blake.”

A fortnight later she writes:

Two weeks later she writes:

“Only fancy, Daddy has been reading Colenso’s book!”

“Just imagine, Dad has been reading Colenso’s book!”

147

CHAPTER XII
VARIOUS PROJECTS AND VENTURES

“Rest you must have: refreshment of spirit I pray you may have.”

"Make sure you get some rest: I hope you find a way to refresh your spirit."

So wrote Mrs. Jex-Blake in the end of January; but even the physical rest was destined to be long delayed. As explained in the previous chapter, S. J.-B. did not at all draw to the idea of deserting her post before a suitable person arrived to supply it, and that suitable person was not easy to find. So the months went by, and it was not till April was well advanced that all arrangements were made for her departure within a fortnight. She was wild with delight at the prospect of getting home, but the fates were unkind. On May 3rd she writes in her diary:

So wrote Mrs. Jex-Blake at the end of January; however, her physical rest was still going to be delayed for quite a while. As mentioned in the previous chapter, S. J.-B. didn't want to leave her position until someone suitable was found to take over, and finding that person was not easy. Months passed, and it wasn't until well into April that all the plans were finalized for her departure in two weeks. She was ecstatic at the thought of going home, but fate had other plans. On May 3rd, she writes in her diary:

“Well, I do feel most uncommonly seedy,—no doubt about that,—having just waded through my packing somehow, and ‘bitterly thought of the morrow’, and how many leagues and hours lie between me and a snug bed, clean sheets and beef tea. But, somehow or other I do mean to push through and trust my luck for falling as usual on my feet, catlike. Specially anxious, by the bye, not to be spied out here or it’ll all go down to the baths”—she had been bathing in the Rhine before breakfast—“as I daresay this heavy cold may, which reduces me to, or below, the level of the inferior animals.

"Well, I feel really awful—no doubt about that—having just managed to get through my packing and 'bitterly thought about tomorrow,' and how many miles and hours are between me and a comfortable bed, clean sheets, and some beef tea. But somehow, I plan to push through and trust that I’ll land on my feet, like a cat. I'm especially anxious, by the way, not to be seen here or it'll all go down the drain”—she had been swimming in the Rhine before breakfast—“as I’m sure this heavy cold might, which has brought me down to, or even below, the level of lower animals."

Well, three days hence! Who can’t hold out that time?”

Well, three days from now! Who can't wait that long?”

She certainly did her best to “hold out,” dragged herself out of bed, and went downstairs looking like “une déterrée,” so Frl. v. Palaus said. She refused to see the school doctor, believing that he would prevent her going home, and also that he would insist upon her keeping her window shut. For 148some reason unknown Frl. v. Palaus resolutely declined to have an English doctor sent for, and so things went on for a day or two till the patient agreed that the German doctor should be allowed to say whether her throat was “of importance.” Whether he was allowed adequate means of arriving at a diagnosis we have no means of knowing. In any case his answer was in the negative. Two days later the patient was obviously suffering from a sharp and typical attack of scarlet fever.

She definitely tried her best to “hang in there,” got herself out of bed, and went downstairs looking like “a dug-up one,” as Frl. v. Palaus commented. She refused to see the school doctor, thinking he would keep her from going home and would also insist that she keep her window shut. For some unknown reason, Frl. v. Palaus stubbornly refused to call in an English doctor, and so things continued for a day or two until the patient agreed to let the German doctor decide whether her throat was “a concern.” We have no way of knowing if he had the proper means to make a diagnosis. In any case, his conclusion was no. Two days later, the patient was clearly suffering from a severe and typical case of scarlet fever.

It really was a blow, poor child! She was so longing for her Mother, “My year’s work just done so painfully,—and now my cruse snatched from my lips. It is hard, hard! I didn’t one moment doubt it was right,—only very hard.” Then like an audible voice came the reminder of the inner light, and all pain went.

It was truly a shock, poor child! She missed her mother so much, “I just finished my year’s work so painfully,—and now my life’s been ripped away. It’s tough, tough! I never doubted it was right,—just really hard.” Then, like a clear voice, the reminder of the inner light came, and all the pain disappeared.

It does not necessarily follow that she proved a very easy patient, though she tried hard to be reasonable, and even to keep her window shut at night, which was quite unreasonable. The whole situation was sufficiently trying for Frl. v. Palaus; and S. J.-B., although she and her nurse became attached to each other, got little of the petting which throughout life she so greatly valued when just the right person bestowed it. Her Mother’s letters as usual were an infinite comfort, and her Father was with difficulty prevented from sending out a London physician to look after her, and, in due time, bring her home.

It doesn’t necessarily mean she was an easy patient, even though she tried hard to be reasonable and even kept her window shut at night, which was pretty unreasonable. The whole situation was quite challenging for Frl. v. Palaus; and S. J.-B., although she and her nurse became close, didn’t get much of the affection she valued throughout her life when it came from just the right person. Her mother's letters, as always, were an immense comfort, and her father had to be convinced not to send a doctor from London to take care of her and, eventually, bring her home.

She made a good recovery, and was allowed to start for England on the 27th, when an English lady was engaged to accompany her. “Very like getting out of purgatory into heaven,” she says. “The dear old folks!”

She made a good recovery and was able to leave for England on the 27th, with an English lady set to accompany her. “It’s like getting out of purgatory and into heaven,” she says. “The dear old folks!”

Her Father was nervous about infection, and, fortunately for him, a trifling driving accident some four or five days after her return forced her to consult “Sam Scott.” “He couldn’t swear me free of fever, but said, ‘If you meet my children on the cliff, you may kiss them.’”

Her father was worried about infection, and luckily for him, a minor car accident a few days after her return made her see “Sam Scott.” “He couldn’t guarantee I was free of fever, but he said, ‘If you see my kids on the cliff, you can kiss them.’”

So S. J.-B. settled down once more to the old life at home, not without occasional “cataracts and breaks,” for her Father did not advance with the times, and hers was not the 149only hasty temper in the family. But she never doubted that a definite work was in store for her somewhere.

So S. J.-B. settled back into her old life at home, not without some occasional conflicts and interruptions, because her father didn't keep up with the times, and hers wasn't the only short temper in the family. But she never doubted that there was a meaningful purpose waiting for her somewhere.

Her diary is sometimes amusing reading. To an acquaintance who—after visiting at Sussex Square and hearing the intimate fireside names—wrote to her as “My dear Jack,” she replies,

Her diary is sometimes fun to read. To a friend who—after visiting Sussex Square and hearing the close family names—wrote to her as "My dear Jack," she responds,

“Dear Miss D.,

“Dear Ms. D.,

Firstly I don’t like being called names, and secondly I have been overwhelmingly busy,—which two reasons must excuse my not having earlier sent you the address.”

Firstly, I don’t like being called names, and secondly, I have been extremely busy—these two reasons should explain why I haven’t sent you the address sooner.

“I agree with Macdonald,” is her connotation. “The only argument some people understand is being knocked down, and it’s cruel to withhold it from them.

“I agree with Macdonald,” she implies. “The only argument some people get is being knocked down, and it’s cruel to keep that from them.

And a very mild knocking down this time.”

And a very gentle knockdown this time.

“July 8th. Annette’s Sunday School. ‘The outward and visible sign in baptism?’

“July 8th. Annette’s Sunday School. ‘What is the outward and visible sign in baptism?’”

‘Please, ma’am, the baby, ma’am.’”

"‘Please, ma'am, the baby, ma'am.’”

That her lamp was not burning dim one gathers from the letter that follows. It relates to the young invalid college friend whom she had wished to take with her to Germany:

That her lamp was not burning low can be inferred from the letter that follows. It talks about the young sick college friend she wanted to bring with her to Germany:

“Nov. 15th. 1863.

Dear Lucy,

Dear Lucy

Though I know you will have heard before this of dear L.’s going home to her rest, I think you will like to have a few lines from me, as I believe E. was not able to write to you herself.

Though I know you’ve probably already heard about dear L.’s passing, I think you’d appreciate a few lines from me, since I believe E. wasn’t able to write to you herself.

You heard probably of her breaking a blood vessel last month soon after her return to London, and it was very soon after that that I saw her for the last time alive. She was very gentle and quiet then, and I have since thought that she more entirely realised how near the end was than I and others did,—for there was no immediate danger then as far as anyone could know. When I told her again how much a duty I thought it for her to take the utmost care of her life for His service Who gave it, and added ‘Not that I want you or anyone to fear death,—that is the last thought one should have of the Home-going’,—she said,—‘Oh, yes,—I never did, and I never understood why people do.’ I told her Mother of this afterwards, and it is a very pleasant memory, among others.

You probably heard about her bursting a blood vessel last month right after she got back to London, and it was just a short time after that when I saw her for the last time while she was alive. She was very gentle and calm then, and since then, I’ve thought that she realized more fully how close the end was compared to what I and others understood—because there wasn’t any immediate danger at that point, as far as anyone could tell. When I told her again how important I thought it was for her to take the best care of her life for His service Who gave it, and added, “Not that I want you or anyone to fear death—that is the last thought one should have about going Home,” she replied, “Oh, yes—I never did, and I never understood why people do.” I told her mother about this later, and it’s a very nice memory, among others.

Well, it was on Thursday, November 3rd. that this terrible spasmodic asthma came on, and I am afraid the struggle was sore for just the week,—but there was mercy in that too, for it made her Mother glad to see her at rest after it. Just a week later she died, 150very peacefully,—passing in sleep into the rest that remaineth. I heard of it on Thursday and went up to London directly, and I never was more heartily glad of having done anything in my life, for both Mrs. B. and E. seemed so glad to see me, and you can hardly believe the peaceful happy few hours we had together,—indeed there came to me (and I think to them too in some degree) such an intense realization of what the joy and light was into which she had entered, that no room seemed left for any pain even for oneself. I did love L. very much,—more perhaps than any of you knew,—but when I stood looking down on that calm pale face, the only words that would come into my mind were,—‘He was not, for God took him’. It seemed quite impossible even for a moment to identify her with that chill silence,—one felt she was already in the everlasting arms. Dear child! She left altogether a very happy memory,—of a bright clear life, and a calm peaceful death. We ‘thank God for this our dear sister departed....’

Well, it was on Thursday, November 3rd, that this terrible asthma attack happened, and I’m afraid the struggle lasted a week—but there was mercy in that too, as it made her mother glad to see her at rest afterward. Just a week later, she died, 150 very peacefully—passing into the rest that remains while she slept. I heard about it on Thursday and went straight to London, and I’ve never been more grateful to have done anything in my life, as both Mrs. B. and E. seemed so glad to see me, and you can hardly believe the peaceful, happy few hours we spent together—indeed, I felt (and I think they did too, to some extent) such an intense realization of the joy and light she had entered into that there seemed to be no room left for any pain, even for myself. I truly loved L. very much—maybe more than any of you knew—but when I stood there looking down at that calm, pale face, the only words that came to my mind were, ‘He was not, for God took him.’ It seemed impossible, even for a moment, to connect her with that chilling silence—you felt she was already in the everlasting arms. Dear child! She left behind a very happy memory—a bright, clear life and a calm, peaceful death. We ‘thank God for this our dear sister departed....’

The funeral is to be next Wednesday,—I know that you will not be absent in spirit, though you cannot be there in presence as I hope to be. Mr. Plumptre will read the service at Kensal Green.

The funeral is set for next Wednesday—I know you'll be there in spirit, even if you can't be there in person as I hope to be. Mr. Plumptre will lead the service at Kensal Green.

I do not know if I helped dear L. in her life. I know that she has helped me in her death almost beyond my conception. I ‘never feared’ death, and I always felt theoretically how it was the ‘going home’ and that only, but I never felt it with the practical intensity of this week. I never entered before into half its beauty and its holiness,—I feel almost as if I could never associate sadness with the idea again. Let it come in what form it may,—‘God giveth us the Victory’.

I don’t know if I helped dear L. in her life. I know that she has helped me in her death in ways I can hardly understand. I’ve never feared death, and I always thought of it theoretically as just “going home,” but I’ve never felt it with the real intensity of this week. I’ve never appreciated half of its beauty and holiness before—I almost feel like I could never connect sadness with the idea again. Let it come in whatever form it may—“God gives us the victory.”

Just before she died, L. finished a story at which she had been working to compete for some magazine prize,—if it does not win this, we hope to get it published separately, as a memorial that will be beloved of many,—and indeed I hope it may come out in this form. I have offered to undertake the whole business. It is very pleasant to me that she has left this,—is it not to you?

Just before she passed away, L. completed a story she had been working on to enter into a magazine contest—if it doesn’t win, we hope to publish it separately as a memorial that many will cherish—and I sincerely hope it gets released this way. I’ve offered to handle everything. It makes me happy that she left this behind—doesn’t it make you happy too?

Goodbye, dear Lucy,—my letter is already enormous, but I don’t fear your criticisms.

Goodbye, dear Lucy—my letter is already huge, but I’m not worried about your criticisms.

Yours affectionately,

S. L. Jex-Blake.”

The monotony of the life that followed was broken by one or two visits to Paris and one to Germany, and she had a great scheme of going to America to study the education of girls there. Here again, of course, she was met by the strong opposition of her Father, and again she was forced to put forward all the good and attractive points in her plan while 151herself profoundly convinced of its vagueness and of her own physical inadequacy. She saw a good deal at this time of Mrs. Ballantyne (afterwards Lady Jenkinson) whom she met first in Edinburgh at the house of her sister, Mrs. Burn Murdoch. This was the beginning of another lifelong friendship, most refreshing to both,—a friendship characterized almost equally by playful camaraderie and jesting, and by many long talks about the things that lie deep.

The routine of life that followed was interrupted by a couple of trips to Paris and one to Germany, and she had a big plan to go to America to study how girls were educated there. Once again, she faced strong resistance from her father, and she had to highlight all the positive and appealing aspects of her plan while 151deep down feeling uncertain about its clarity and her own physical limitations. During this time, she spent a lot of time with Mrs. Ballantyne (later Lady Jenkinson), whom she first met in Edinburgh at her sister, Mrs. Burn Murdoch's house. This marked the start of another lifelong friendship that was both refreshing for both of them—a friendship marked by playful fun and joking, as well as many long discussions about deeper matters.

“She is just good and true and ‘clear’,” S. J.-B. had written in her diary some months before. She records how they went together to an evening Holy Communion, what they felt and said,—and goes on without a break:

“She is just good and genuine and ‘clear’,” S. J.-B. had written in her diary a few months earlier. She notes how they attended an evening Holy Communion together, what they felt and talked about,—and continues without interruption:

“Then, again she so delicious about my bonnet (not calculated

“Then, again she was so delightful about my bonnet (not calculated

‘To take upon it

The guilt of her wandering soul’.)

The first time. I saw you in it, nearly disliked you for it—only it was past that.

The first time I saw you in it, I almost disliked you for it—but that feeling was behind me.

Not your taste?—Then you oughtn’t to wear what isn’t,—nor to get 14s. 9d. bonnets!

Not your style?—Then you shouldn't wear what isn't,—nor buy £14. 9s. bonnets!

Poke into omnibuses?—Poke away, but wear proper bonnets.

Poke into buses?—Go ahead, but wear the right hats.

Tottenham Court Road?—No business to go there for bonnets.

Tottenham Court Road?—No reason to go there for hats.

No money?—Then you must manage very badly! [Badly!—poor generous child,—counting every halfpenny that she might have the more to give away!]

No money?—Then you must be managing things really poorly! [Poor generous child,—counting every penny so she might have more to give away!]

Your sister?—No, I have nothing to do with her, but I have with you. Buy proper bonnets,—then get them altered—

Your sister?—No, I don’t have anything to do with her, but I do have to do with you. Buy some nice bonnets—then get them altered—

Whereon I vowed that if she didn’t come to London and choose one, I’d buy the ugliest in Tottenham Court Road.

Where I promised that if she didn’t come to London and pick one, I’d buy the ugliest one on Tottenham Court Road.

My compliments to Mrs. Heath, and she oughtn’t to compromise her taste by letting you buy such bonnets, etc., etc.

My compliments to Mrs. Heath, and she shouldn't lower her standards by letting you buy such bonnets, etc., etc.

So very very refreshingly, and with such bright arch eyes.”

So refreshingly, with such bright, arched eyes.

It was certainly no lack of appreciation in the ordinary relationships of life that urged S. J.-B. to find her vocation. There are many indications of her popularity at this time among cousins and friends.

It was definitely not a lack of appreciation in everyday relationships that drove S. J.-B. to discover her calling. There are plenty of signs of her popularity during this time among cousins and friends.

“Dearest Sophy,” writes the mistress of Honing Hall,—“It will be delightful to see you here. How often have I said to myself lately (having no one else to address my remarks to,—your Uncle being entirely taken up with his harvest, and more bothered than ever by it). ‘I do wish Sophy would offer her company for a few days.’

“Dear Sophy,” writes the lady of Honing Hall,—“It will be wonderful to see you here. How often have I thought to myself lately (with no one else to talk to—your Uncle is completely absorbed in his harvest and more stressed than ever by it). ‘I really wish Sophy would come and spend a few days with us.’”

So, well pleased was I to see your handwriting this morning. 152I can meet you anywhere within reasonable distance. On Thursdays I have only your old friend, Little Grey, and on Tuesday, 30th., some of the Catfield people are coming over. Should you be here then, it would be an additional pleasure to all.”

I was really happy to see your handwriting this morning. 152 I can meet you anywhere that's a reasonable distance. On Thursdays, I only have your old friend, Little Grey, and on Tuesday, 30th, some of the Catfield people are coming over. If you’re here then, it would be an extra pleasure for everyone.

And here is a characteristic note:

And here is a typical note:

“Dear Miss Blake,

“Dear Ms. Blake,

... Pray bring back from America a few more such good stories as you told me yesterday. I say this not ‘hoping I should see your face no more’.

... Please bring back a few more good stories from America like the ones you told me yesterday. I'm saying this not ‘hoping I won’t see your face again’.

Yours very truly,

Frances P. Cobbe.”

On November 11th S. J.-B. received a letter that pleased her much from the Revd. T. D. C. Morse, rector of Stretford, Manchester:

On November 11th, S. J.-B. got a letter that made her very happy from the Reverend T. D. C. Morse, the rector of Stretford, Manchester:

“Madam,

“Ma'am,

I have had some correspondence with Professor Plumptre of Queen’s College about establishing a Ladies’ College in this locality, and he has referred me to you as likely to help me in this good work. Notwithstanding the fact that the movement for the improvement of female education has now been for some time set on foot, this populous neighbourhood is still very destitute in this respect. I have two girls, 12 and 13 years of age, and after making enquiries in very competent quarters, I have been told that there is only one Ladies’ School ‘worth a farthing’ in or near Manchester, and that is the Ladies’ College on the north side of the city at Higher Broughton. We are living on the south side and are surrounded by a large number of wealthy people who must necessarily miss such educational facilities. I wish therefore to try whether a good Ladies’ College can be founded on this side of Manchester, and I would be glad to know whether you could introduce me to a lady qualified to act as Principal of such an Institution. Mr. Plumptre was not quite sure whether you might be disposed to undertake such a work yourself or not, but, if you were so, I feel sure from what he has told me that the matter could not be in better hands.... You will understand, of course, that the matter at present is only in the phase of a project.”

I’ve had some discussions with Professor Plumptre from Queen’s College about starting a Ladies’ College in this area, and he has pointed me to you as someone who could support this worthwhile initiative. Even though the push for improving education for women has been going on for a while now, this busy neighborhood still lacks in that area. I have two daughters, ages 12 and 13, and after looking into it with some knowledgeable people, I found out there’s only one Ladies’ School “worth a farthing” in or around Manchester, which is the Ladies’ College on the north side of the city in Higher Broughton. We live on the south side and are surrounded by many affluent families who certainly miss out on such educational opportunities. Therefore, I want to see if we can establish a good Ladies’ College on this side of Manchester, and I would appreciate it if you could connect me with a lady who would be qualified to serve as Principal of such an institution. Mr. Plumptre wasn’t sure if you might be interested in taking on this role yourself, but if you were, I’m confident from what he has shared that the project would be in excellent hands... You’ll understand, of course, that this is still just an idea at this stage.

“Plum, I owe thee one!” is S. J.-B.’s irreverent comment,—“good old Plum!”

“Plum, I owe you one!” is S. J.-B.’s cheeky comment,—“good old Plum!”

“Such a real ‘call’ it sounds—and what a field to learn in!... Now America seems put in the background with a vengeance.”

“Such a genuine ‘call’ it sounds—and what an opportunity to learn in!... Now America feels pushed aside with intensity.”

153She plunged at once into plans and arrangements, timetables, lists of tutors, etc., and on November 17th she writes in her diary:

153She immediately dove into plans and arrangements, schedules, lists of tutors, and so on, and on November 17th she writes in her diary:

“On Tuesday and today received letters from Mr. Morse, telling me of the Bishop’s support, and thus answering my question ... asking me for ‘any suggestions’. I feel little more is to be done without an interview, but write somewhat on essential heads ‘with great diffidence’:

“On Tuesday and today, I got letters from Mr. Morse, letting me know about the Bishop’s support and answering my question ... asking me for ‘any suggestions’. I feel there’s not much more to be done without a meeting, but I'm writing a bit on the main points ‘with great hesitation’:

I am sure that no one can give their really best work to any scheme which does not stand on foundation principles with which they are in sympathy, and, bearing in mind the proposition you hinted at in your first letter, I am bound both for your sake and for my own to ascertain as far as possible how far the harmony of our views would allow me to be a really efficient worker in your cause. I have a great belief in the superiority of rule by Law over that of individual will, and should as Director of any such College be very anxious to have as little as possible left to my own choice and judgment; but, having once been able to acquiesce in the spirit of established regulations, would deem it essential to have absolute authority to see them carried out alike by teachers and pupils. I am sure that to have such questions ill-defined at first is one of the most fruitful sources of after disturbance and failure in a college....

I'm sure that no one can give their best work to any plan that doesn't rest on basic principles they believe in. Keeping in mind the idea you mentioned in your first letter, I feel it's important for both your sake and mine to figure out how much our views align so that I can truly be an effective advocate for your cause. I strongly believe that governing by law is superior to individual will, and as the Director of any such College, I would be keen to minimize the amount left to my own choice and judgment. However, once I could agree with the spirit of established rules, I would consider it essential to have complete authority to ensure they're enforced consistently by both teachers and students. I believe that having these issues unclear from the start is one of the biggest causes of future problems and failures in a college...

I believe that really good women teachers are more able to measure the power of a girl’s mind, and force her to do a certain amount of good work than men, who are in my experience very apt to let young pupils slip between their fingers, as it were.

I believe that great female teachers are better at understanding the potential of a girl's mind and encouraging her to put in a good amount of effort than men, who, in my experience, tend to let young students slip through their fingers, so to speak.

At the same time, after a thorough groundwork has been laid, I think first-rate lecturers (almost useless till then) become quite invaluable.

At the same time, after a solid foundation has been established, I believe top-notch lecturers (who were almost pointless up to that point) become extremely valuable.

Meaning—I want an interview.

Meaning—I want a job interview.

“Dec. 1st. 1864. Reached Manchester yesterday. Staying now with the Morses.

“Dec. 1st. 1864. Arrived in Manchester yesterday. Currently staying with the Morses.

Capital man he,—clear, energetic and practical; a little ‘trammelled’ by clerical bonds, but in the main wide and satisfactory.

Capital man he—clear, energetic, and practical; slightly ‘trammeled’ by clerical constraints, but overall broad and fulfilling.

Spite of the double assurance of Minnie and Ruth that I need not talk of my Unitarianism,—I could not be quite silent, and so tonight, naturally enough, and I think truthfully, gave in my half-declaration.

Despite Minnie and Ruth both assuring me that I didn't need to discuss my Unitarian beliefs, I couldn't stay completely silent. So tonight, it seemed natural and, I believe, honest to give my partial statement.

Mr. Morse said (in answer to my question whether we might not be ‘too episcopal’) that, without wishing to exclude any, he wished to have the College decidedly of Church origin, and should be sorry to have other than Church main workers.

Mr. Morse said (in response to my question about whether we might be ‘too episcopal’) that, while he didn't want to exclude anyone, he wanted the College to clearly have Church origins and would be disappointed to have anyone other than Church members as main workers.

I said, ‘Then perhaps you had better not have me.’

I said, "Then maybe you should just not have me."

‘But do you not belong to the Church?’

‘But don’t you belong to the Church?’

154‘Well, I was baptized and confirmed in it.’

‘But you go there rather than Chapel?’

‘But you go there instead of Chapel?’

‘Well, I don’t know. I go there pretty often. I go where helps me most.’

‘Well, I’m not sure. I go there pretty often. I go where it helps me the most.’

‘Where else?’

'Where else?'

‘Oh, mainly Unitarian’, adding ‘I have not, however, any intention of joining the Unitarians, but they have helped me’, and, in answer to a farther remark ‘that I ought to make up my mind clearly black or white’.

‘Oh, mostly Unitarian,’ adding, ‘I don’t, however, plan to join the Unitarians, but they’ve been helpful to me,’ and, in response to a further comment ‘that I should decide clearly between black and white.’

‘That I can’t do.... However on the whole, though very unorthodox, I believe I am on the whole most of a Churchwoman, and certainly non-proselytizing, nor, I believe in the least likely to originate any religious difficulty.’

‘That I can’t do.... However, overall, even though it’s quite unconventional, I think I’m mostly a Churchwoman, and definitely not someone who tries to convert others, nor do I believe I’m at all likely to cause any religious issues.’

Still he was evidently ‘stumped’, and I daresay I shall hear more of it.

Still, he was clearly ‘stumped,’ and I bet I’ll hear more about it.

Yet, on the whole, feeling as I do, I cannot regret speaking.

Yet, overall, feeling the way I do, I can't regret speaking up.

‘Be true to every honest thought

And as thy thought thy speech.’^[35]

She visited the Principal of Owens’ College, however, and the Headmaster of the Grammar School, drew up a tentative list of names for Council, and had a long talk with Mrs. Gaskell, who promised to be a “Lady Visitor” if the College was founded. (“I explaining it to mean ‘right to visit’.”)

She visited the Principal of Owens’ College and the Headmaster of the Grammar School, created a preliminary list of names for the Council, and had an extensive conversation with Mrs. Gaskell, who agreed to be a “Lady Visitor” if the College was established. (“I interpret it as ‘having the right to visit’.”)

“As to my contumacy (it’s really that and not the heresy!), W. and G. to be consulted. I said how I wished him to do only what he thought right,—yet believing they would be wise to have me(!)

“As for my stubbornness (it’s really that and not the heresy!), W. and G. should be consulted. I mentioned that I wanted him to do only what he thought was right—yet I believe they would be smart to include me(!)

I think he surely wishes it, and, as I should guess he would find his consultees not otherwise inclined, a very small push would decide him that way.

I think he definitely wants it, and since I would guess that his clients wouldn't feel any differently, just a little push would convince him to go that route.

(Stories,—‘The fool hath said in his heart,’ etc. Old sexton loq. ‘I can’t but think, sir, there is a God after all’).”

(Stories,—‘The fool has said in his heart,’ etc. Old sexton says, ‘I can’t help but think, sir, there is a God after all’).”

“Dec. 4th. Came to Rugby last night. The music in chapel again and again bringing me well-nigh to tears,—so weak and thin is one worn.

“Dec. 4th. I arrived in Rugby last night. The music in the chapel kept bringing me close to tears over and over—I'm feeling so worn down and fragile.”

155(Yet should surely notice the good Miss Garrett’s medicine does me—taken about a fortnight now.)...

155(But I should definitely mention how well Miss Garrett's medicine is working for me—I've been taking it for about two weeks now.)...

And how the conviction came (when first this Manchester scheme) ‘Yes,—“be thou but fit for the wall, and thou shalt not be left in the way.” It is true!...

And how the belief came (when this Manchester plan first emerged) ‘Yes,—“as long as you’re suitable for the wall, you won’t be left behind.” It is true!...

Is Minnie far wrong in her ‘Men have the best of it’? Easiest,—yes!—

Is Minnie really off base with her idea that "Men have the best of it"? Sure, it's the easiest answer.—

Fancy the pleasure of going through School,—College,—returning hallmarked, for good happy well-paid work here.

Imagine the joy of going through school—college—coming back certified, ready for good, satisfying, well-paid work here.

Yet is the easiest ‘Best’?

Yet is the easiest "Best"?

Must there not be pioneers?—can their work be easy?

Must there not be pioneers?—can their work be simple?

Yet is there not (in many tongues and roads) a ‘noble army of martyrs’?

Yet isn’t there, in many languages and paths, a ‘noble army of martyrs’?

Shall we like Erasmus ‘not aspire to that honour’?

Shall we, like Erasmus, "not aim for that honor"?

But, oh, dear, when the heart’s light and brain clear and life sunny, it’s easy to ‘scorn delights’ (having plenty of the reallest) but when the ‘laborious days’ fail and only weary and dim ones remain—when the tunnel narrows and darkens, and nearly all the light and strength seems to have leaked out—

But, oh, dear, when your heart is light, your mind is clear, and life is bright, it’s easy to ‘scorn delights’ (since you have plenty of the real ones). But when the ‘laborious days’ pass, and only tired and dull ones are left—when the tunnel narrows and darkens, and almost all the light and strength seems to have slipped away—

Then—?

‘My Grace is sufficient for thee’. No other help,—‘none other fighteth for us’—and what need?—‘Only Thou, O God.’”

‘My grace is enough for you.’ No other help—‘no one else fights for us’—and why would we need it?—‘Only You, O God.’”

How little her friends could guess the attitude of her mind may be gathered from the entry that follows:

How little her friends could understand what she was really thinking can be seen in the following entry:

“Dec. 5th. M.’s and my mutual objection to family prayers evidenced by staying out tonight. Justified?

“Dec. 5th. M. and I both disagree with family prayers, as shown by us staying out tonight. Is it justified?”

I say, prayer continual and interjectional rather than formal and obligatory.

I believe that prayer should be constant and spontaneous rather than structured and mandatory.

But follow out logically? Public worship, etc.”

But follow through logically? Public worship, etc.

Meanwhile she was hard at work, drawing up schemes for the proposed College, visiting schools and colleges for men, and striving to fit herself for the new work. Mr. Morse must have felt that Mr. Plumptre had recommended a worker of remarkable talents, fine sincerity and most unusual enthusiasm, one whose knowledge of life and of the world was far in advance of what might have been expected from her years. Such qualities have to be paid for, of course. Nature has a rather staggering way of throwing in counterbalancing asperities, and, when S. J.-B. proposed to foster a religious spirit in the college without the formality of daily prayers, he must have begun to realize the inflexibility of the person he was dealing 156with. He would probably have sympathized with the dictum of Cousin Ellie,—“I would do anything for you if I could only make even a slight alteration”!

Meanwhile, she was busy creating plans for the proposed College, visiting schools and colleges for men, and working hard to prepare herself for the new role. Mr. Morse must have felt that Mr. Plumptre had recommended someone with exceptional talents, genuine sincerity, and remarkable enthusiasm, someone whose understanding of life and the world was way beyond what anyone would expect from her age. Of course, such qualities come at a cost. Nature has a way of balancing things out with challenges, and when S. J.-B. wanted to cultivate a religious spirit in the college without the routine of daily prayers, he must have started to realize the firmness of the person he was working with. He would probably have agreed with Cousin Ellie's saying, “I would do anything for you if I could just make even a slight change”! 156

All we actually know is that he showed no indication of wishing to draw back; and at least one public meeting in support of the scheme was duly held and reported at length in the local papers. Public opinion, however, on the subject, needed more fundamental education than Mr. Morse had allowed for, and—although S. J.-B.’s budget was characterized by the splendid economy that was one of her most striking talents—the project failed for want of adequate financial support.

All we really know is that he didn’t show any signs of wanting to back off; and at least one public meeting in support of the plan was held and reported in detail in the local newspapers. However, public opinion on the topic needed more basic education than Mr. Morse anticipated, and—although S. J.-B.’s budget was marked by the impressive economy that was one of her most notable skills—the project failed due to a lack of sufficient financial support.

“Feb. 22nd. Manchester scheme obiit. R.I.P.! I must be really in a bad way to be able to find so few mental tears for this! It does practically close up my foreground again. Heu mihi! Why mayn’t useless people be smothered out of the way if there’s no possibility of being or doing or having?

“Feb. 22nd. The Manchester scheme is dead. Rest in peace! I must be in a really bad place to not feel much sadness over this! It basically wraps up my main focus again. Oh woe is me! Why can’t unproductive people just be pushed aside if there’s no chance of being, doing, or having anything meaningful?”

‘Because you’ve got to learn’, as that good Miss Harry said last night.”

‘Because you've got to learn,’ as that good Miss Harry said last night.”

In the midst of these varied personal interests, S. J.-B. did not lose touch with her old girls at Queen’s College. Indeed, when one realizes the intensity of her own experiences, it is rather refreshing to see how whole-heartedly she could enter into those of others.

In the middle of her diverse personal interests, S. J.-B. stayed connected with her former classmates at Queen’s College. In fact, when you consider the depth of her own experiences, it's quite uplifting to see how genuinely she could engage with the experiences of others.

“Feb. 23rd. 1864.

Brighton.

My dear Lucy,

My dear Lucy

I feel rather guilty in not having written to you before this, but I do not think that you will attribute the omission to any want of interest in one of my dear old ‘children’.... I have to send you my hearty congratulations and good wishes for the life that seems opening so happily before you. Happiness is a wonderfully solemn thing,—a thing to go down on one’s knees and thank God for....

I feel pretty guilty for not writing to you sooner, but I don’t think you’ll think it’s because I’m not interested in one of my dear old 'kids'.... I want to send you my heartfelt congratulations and best wishes for the life that looks so promising ahead of you. Happiness is a truly serious thing—something to kneel down and thank God for....

‘So pray they, bowed with sorrow down,—
While we whom love and gladness crown
Bend lower yet in prayer;
With hearts so full we need to pray,
“Oh, make us worthy, Lord, alway,
This weight of love to bear....”’

157Don’t be too self-distrustful, dear child,—I don’t believe that you are at all ‘unfit to be a help to anyone’.... Send me as long a letter as your indolence will admit of, and tell me all about your prospects, and whether your engagement is likely to be a short or long one.”

157Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear child—I really don’t think you're 'unfit to help anyone' at all.... Send me as long a letter as you can manage, and tell me all about your plans, and whether your engagement looks like it will be short or long.”

“Dec. 13th. 1864.

... Having heard from E. B. of your marriage last month, I was not quite so bewildered as I might have been at receiving an epistle from a certain mysterious ‘Lucy Unwin’—

... Having heard from E. B. about your marriage last month, I wasn't as surprised as I might have been to get a letter from a certain mysterious 'Lucy Unwin'—

... I am so glad to hear of your being so happy, dear child (dear me, I suppose I ought to be more respectful to so venerable a matron!) I daresay if I heard the other side of the question it would not be so full of wailings over your incompetencies general and particular as yours is.... I should like exceedingly to see you in your new sphere ... and please thank your husband very much for taking me so much on trust as to want to see me,—though perhaps, after all, the real compliment is to you! It will be a great pleasure for me to come to you for a few days when I am next in the North.”North.”

... I’m so glad to hear that you’re so happy, dear child (I guess I should be more respectful to someone as esteemed as you!) I bet if I heard the other side of the story, it wouldn’t be filled with all the complaints about your general and specific shortcomings as yours is.... I would love to see you in your new situation ... and please thank your husband for trusting me enough to want to see me,—though maybe the real compliment goes to you! It will be a great pleasure for me to visit you for a few days when I'm next in the North.North.”

[Received May 10th, 1865.]

I had hoped to pay you a visit before this, and I am afraid you will be disappointed as well as myself when I tell you it must now, I fear, be indefinitely deferred, for circumstances have made me decide rather hurriedly to pay a long-planned visit to America for the purpose of learning something about the schools and colleges there.

I had planned to visit you sooner, and I’m sorry to say that both you and I might be disappointed because I now have to put it off for an uncertain period. Circumstances have forced me to quickly decide to take a long-planned trip to America to learn more about the schools and colleges there.

I am to start from Liverpool on Saturday the 27th., and am going to take with me a girl whom you will perhaps hardly remember at Qu: College:—indeed I think she was after your time,—Isabel Bain.

I’m leaving Liverpool on Saturday the 27th and I’m going to take a girl you probably barely remember from Qu: College—actually, I think she was there after you—Isabel Bain.

“May 14th., 1865.

Dear Lucy,

Dear Lucy

I should like exceedingly to see you if it were possible before sailing for America, and your letter has made me wish more than ever to do so.

I would really love to see you if it were possible before I sail for America, and your letter has made me want to do so even more.

If I found it just possible to come to you for one day and night, would you think it worth while to have me? I do not know what the possibilities are,—are you in the town?—or would it be an undertaking to get to you from the station? Would it upset you all terribly if I came and went at unearthly hours as I might have to do?

If I could make it to see you for just one day and night, would you want me to come? I'm not sure what the situation is—are you in town? Or would it be difficult to get to you from the train station? Would it really throw everything off if I arrived and left at odd hours, which I might need to do?

I should like to see you exceedingly, and I should like very much to see your husband,—if my coming in such a rush and making such a fuss wouldn’t make him hate me.

I really want to see you, and I would really love to see your husband—if my sudden visit and all the commotion wouldn’t make him dislike me.

Thank you very much for your photograph. There are no decent ones of me, but I will see if I can find you up one of the least bad.”

Thank you so much for your photo. I don't have any good ones of myself, but I'll see if I can find one of the less terrible ones for you.

158The visit was paid in due course, and proved successful in every way. Mr. Unwin frankly shared his wife’s admiration for the character and gifts of her old college friend, and this was by no means the last visit she paid to their Yorkshire home.

158The visit happened as planned and was successful in every way. Mr. Unwin openly expressed his wife's admiration for her old college friend’s qualities and talents, and this definitely wasn’t the last time she visited their home in Yorkshire.

In the meantime S. J.-B. had carried out another idea that had been simmering in her mind for long. It may be remembered how in her childhood she had “bought tracts (for 6d) with Carry,” and had even, apparently, been encouraged by her Father to give them away. The distribution of evangelical tracts was a great feature of the religious world in which she had been brought up, and, with the hopefulness of youth, she felt how much good might be done by circulating helpful religious pamphlets of a non-doctrinal kind. As a first step towards the realization of this scheme, she herself wrote three tracts,^[36] and had them printed at her own expense. The most remarkable thing about them—in view of the writer’s youth—is their non-controversial spirit. A Father of the Church could not have written more simply. With proper machinery for distribution they might have met with some considerable success: as it was the poor little booklets crept timidly into the world only to be pronounced sadly wanting in essentials by most of those who read them.

In the meantime, S. J.-B. had acted on another idea that had been brewing in her mind for a long time. It may be remembered how, in her childhood, she had “bought tracts (for 6d) with Carry,” and had even seemingly been encouraged by her father to give them away. Distributing evangelical tracts was a big part of the religious community she grew up in, and with the optimism of youth, she believed a lot of good could come from spreading helpful religious pamphlets that weren’t tied to specific doctrines. As a first step toward bringing this plan to life, she wrote three tracts,^[36] and paid to have them printed herself. The most notable thing about them—considering the writer’s youth—is their non-controversial tone. A Father of the Church couldn’t have written more clearly. With the right distribution methods, they could have achieved significant success; instead, the poor little booklets timidly entered the world only to be deemed sadly lacking in essentials by most of those who read them.

“Very harmless, but very useless,” said Mrs. Jex-Blake, and she at least knew enough of tracts to be an authority on the subject. She had evaded reading these as long as possible, and, of course it was not to the dearly-loved writer of them that she made the crushing comment.

“Very harmless, but very useless,” said Mrs. Jex-Blake, and she definitely knew enough about tracts to be an authority on the subject. She had avoided reading these for as long as she could, and, of course, it was not to the writer she loved so much that she made the harsh comment.

The Guardian, strangely enough, reviewed them rather favourably, and a few total strangers wrote to say that this was the thing for which they had long been looking; but on the whole appreciation was rare.

The Guardian, oddly enough, gave them a pretty good review, and a few complete strangers reached out to say that this was exactly what they had been searching for; but overall, praise was hard to come by.

“Frankly, I call them Cobbe and water,” said Mr. Morse.

“Honestly, I call them Cobbe and water,” said Mr. Morse.

For the Kingdom of Heaven is a treasure hid in a field, and S. J.-B. never realized how few can avail themselves of the treasure without first buying the field.

For the Kingdom of Heaven is a treasure hidden in a field, and S. J.-B. never understood how few can access the treasure without first purchasing the field.

159

CHAPTER XIII
A VISIT TO SOME AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES

“I have such a feeling that with the new world, a new life will open.”

“I have this strong sense that with the new world, a new life will begin.”

So S. J.-B. had written in October 1864, and, seven months later, she sailed for Boston. This crossing of the Atlantic was another considerable venture for the young woman of those days; and, although S. J.-B. took with her a number of introductions, she knew no one on the other side. She was fortunate, however, in her travelling companion, Miss Isabel Bain (now Mrs. James Brander, H.M. Inspectress of Schools for Madras, retired), a young girl of exceptional charm and promise, in whose education S. J.-B. and her parents had taken a deep and active interest.

So S. J.-B. wrote in October 1864, and seven months later, she set sail for Boston. This trip across the Atlantic was a big step for a young woman of her time; and even though S. J.-B. brought several introductions, she didn’t know anyone on the other side. However, she was lucky to have a great travel companion, Miss Isabel Bain (now Mrs. James Brander, H.M. Inspectress of Schools for Madras, retired), a young woman with exceptional charm and potential, in whose education S. J.-B. and her parents had invested a lot of time and effort.

It is scarcely necessary to say that both Mr. and Mrs. Jex-Blake regarded the new enterprise with profound misgiving: a few days before the parting Mrs. Jex-Blake had written to Mrs. Ballantyne:

It’s hardly necessary to say that both Mr. and Mrs. Jex-Blake viewed the new venture with deep uncertainty: a few days before the separation, Mrs. Jex-Blake had written to Mrs. Ballantyne:

“I was so sadly selfish and engrossed about America the few hours you were here, that I must write a line to tell you how grateful I feel for all your kindness to Sophy, and how thankful I am that she has such a friend to consult with in this hour of need. I hope you did not suffer for the way in which you were plagued here: it really was very hard: though I quite believe you don’t think so.

“I was so selfish and focused on America during the few hours you were here that I need to write a quick note to express how grateful I am for all your kindness to Sophy, and how thankful I am that she has such a friend to rely on in this time of need. I hope you didn’t end up suffering from how much you were bothered while you were here: it really was quite tough, though I completely believe you don’t see it that way.”

Tuesday. Sophy’s letter has just come, and I do indeed need your prayers and sympathy. The wrench it is to me to have her go is indescribable, but I hope and believe my view will be more reasonable as time goes on. Any way, I know I shall have strength to bear. It is quite a panic, and I feel as if I must run away from 160it. Yet I would not prevent it if I could. I should have been very thankful for an older companion....

Tuesday. Sophy’s letter just arrived, and I really need your prayers and support. The pain of her leaving is hard to describe, but I hope and believe my perspective will become more reasonable as time passes. Either way, I know I’ll find the strength to handle it. It’s quite overwhelming, and I feel like I need to escape from it all. Still, I wouldn’t stop it even if I could. I would have been very grateful for an older companion...

I ought not to plague you, her good kind friend.

I shouldn’t bother you, her kind friend.

May God bless you and all dear to you.

May God bless you and everyone you care about.

Yours affectionately,

M. E. J.-B.

I hope to write you a less selfish letter another time. I am hardly myself now. Is it not curious,—I have such a prejudice against Americans that I hardly ever will read a book describing American manners. I hate descriptions of low life.”

I hope to write you a less self-centered letter next time. I'm not really myself right now. Isn’t it interesting—I have such a bias against Americans that I rarely read books that talk about American customs. I hate descriptions of the lower class.”

Surely the frequent twinkle was returning to her eye when she wrote the closing words of the postscript? In any case there is no doubt about it a short time later when a question arose about Miss Bain’s leaving S. J.-B. and becoming a student in one of the colleges they had visited together:

Surely the familiar sparkle was coming back to her eye when she wrote the final words of the postscript? In any case, there’s no doubt about it a short time later when a question came up about Miss Bain leaving S. J.-B. and becoming a student at one of the colleges they had visited together:

“I think Daddy has a terror of only your bleached bones(!) being found, if you went about without a companion.”

“I think Dad is really scared that only your bleached bones will be found if you go around without a buddy.”

The two girls left Liverpool on May 27th, and, after experiencing some rough weather which confined them to their berths, they staggered gallantly up on deck to enjoy the voyage and to make the acquaintance of their fellow-passengers. “A very nice Scotch Independent, Dr. Raleigh of Canonbury,” is specially noted.

The two girls left Liverpool on May 27th, and, after facing some rough weather that kept them in their cabins, they bravely made their way up on deck to enjoy the voyage and meet their fellow passengers. “A really nice Scottish Independent, Dr. Raleigh of Canonbury,” is especially mentioned.

The great excitement of the voyage is described in a letter to her Mother:

The thrilling experience of the journey is detailed in a letter to her Mom:

“After I had done writing to you, we were summoned by a cry of ‘Icebergs!’ and up we ran to see a bright white light on the horizon, just visible, right on our track. Soon another came in sight and it was really grand the next hour. The evening hardly beginning to close in, but the cold intense, yet so beautiful.... On went the ship, tearing on to the icebergs, that grew whiter and larger every minute,—great cliffs of white rearing themselves out of the waves that beat into spray at their base,—looking so strong and grim and beautiful.”

“After I finished writing to you, we heard a shout of ‘Icebergs!’ and we rushed to see a bright white light on the horizon, just ahead of us. Soon another appeared, and it was truly amazing over the next hour. The evening was just beginning to set in, but it was extremely cold, yet so beautiful.... The ship kept moving towards the icebergs, which grew whiter and larger every minute—massive cliffs of white rising out of the waves that crashed into spray at their base—looking so strong and grim yet beautiful.”

On June 8th the Africa reached Boston about midnight, and next morning the two young women went on shore to begin the new life. The weather was very warm and most of the people to whom they had introductions were out of town. The travellers suffered a good deal from the heat and 161from various minor inconveniences due mainly to the strangeness and expensiveness of life in general; but S. J.-B. does not fail to put on record how much they enjoyed the ice-cream!

On June 8th, the Africa arrived in Boston around midnight, and the next morning, the two young women went ashore to start their new life. The weather was very warm, and most of the people they had introductions to were out of town. The travelers felt quite uncomfortable due to the heat and various small inconveniences mainly caused by the unfamiliar and expensive nature of life in general; however, S. J.-B. makes sure to note how much they enjoyed the ice cream!

Dr. Lucy Sewall was at her post, but Mrs. Peter Taylor, in providing this introduction had given the wrong address, and it was a couple of days before they succeeded in finding her. The meeting was destined to be full of significance in determining S. J.-B.’s future career.

Dr. Lucy Sewall was at her post, but Mrs. Peter Taylor, in providing this introduction, had given the wrong address, and it took a couple of days before they were able to find her. The meeting was set to be really important in shaping S. J.-B.’s future career.

It was an interesting moment in which to visit the States. The war was over, but feeling still ran high, and, although the travellers met with much kindness and hospitality, they were not a little surprised to find themselves in an atmosphere of deep resentment against England.

It was an interesting time to visit the States. The war was over, but emotions were still intense, and while the travelers experienced a lot of kindness and hospitality, they were quite surprised to find themselves in an atmosphere filled with deep resentment toward England.

“Oh, dear, How they turned on the tap, and talked right on end when they got near politics, only pausing to wonder at our ‘ignorance’ in England (that being, of course, the only source of difference of opinion with them). Finally, after listening with the utmost patience indefinitely—only devoutly wishing to kick over the table—I got mentally [sic] collared by Miss Peabody with an accusation of being ‘still incredulous’, to which I replied very frankly, that ‘certainly till I heard both sides I could form no definite opinion.’

“Oh, dear, how they started going on and on when they got into politics, only stopping to marvel at our ‘ignorance’ in England (which, of course, was the only reason for any disagreement with them). Eventually, after listening with the utmost patience forever—just wishing I could flip the table—I was sharply confronted by Miss Peabody with an accusation of being ‘still skeptical,’ to which I honestly replied that ‘of course, until I heard both sides, I couldn’t form any definite opinion.’”

Emerson was refreshing after the rest, inasmuch as, after speaking, he would allow you to answer.... A Miss Elizabeth Hoar told me she had seen Carlyle in London in 1862, and that he had said to her,—‘So you’re quarrelling out there? Why don’t you let the Southerners go to the devil with their niggers if they like, and you go to Heaven with your virtues if you can?’ Rather sensible, I thought,—from one point of view at any rate.”

Emerson was a breath of fresh air compared to the rest because, after speaking, he would let you respond. A Miss Elizabeth Hoar told me she saw Carlyle in London in 1862, and he said to her, "So you’re fighting over there? Why not let the Southerners go to hell with their slaves if they want, and you go to Heaven with your virtues if you can?" I thought that was pretty sensible—from at least one angle.

There is a pleasant little letter from Emerson, written after this meeting:

There’s a nice little letter from Emerson, written after this meeting:

“Concord. Monday 14th June. [1865.]

Concord. Monday, June 14, 1865.

Dear Miss Blake,

Hi Miss Blake,

I am sorry to be so very slow in sending you the address of Mr. Fields’ good farmer in the White Mountains region. It is Selden C. Willey, Compton Village, 6 miles from Plymouth, New Hampshire. I looked for it immediately on my return from Mrs. Mann’s, but could not find it, and now today have stumbled on it in looking for something else. Tis probable that you may have 162seen Mr. Fields himself before this time. When I have found my right correspondent at Oberlin, I shall hope to bring you my letter in person.

I apologize for taking so long to send you the address of Mr. Fields’ reliable farmer in the White Mountains area. It’s Selden C. Willey, Compton Village, 6 miles from Plymouth, New Hampshire. I looked for it right after I got back from Mrs. Mann’s, but I couldn’t find it, and today I stumbled upon it while searching for something else. You might have already met Mr. Fields by now. Once I track down the right person to correspond with at Oberlin, I hope to bring you my letter in person.

With great regard,

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Miss Blake.”

Miss Blake.

The diary continues:

The journal continues:

“Everyone most wonderfully kind and helpful to us personally—lots of offers of introductions, etc. That nice Dr. Sewall very anxious that I should not tire myself out and ‘get sick’. By the bye one really can converse with her, I think.”

“Everyone has been incredibly kind and helpful to us—so many offers for introductions, etc. That nice Dr. Sewall is very concerned that I don't wear myself out and ‘get sick’. By the way, I really think you can have a conversation with her.”

There is a kind little note from Dr. Sewall also:

There’s a nice little note from Dr. Sewall too:

“My dear Miss Blake,

“Dear Miss Blake,

As usual this evening I enjoyed your society so much that I forgot to say half that I wanted to....

As usual, I enjoyed being with you so much tonight that I forgot to say half of what I wanted to.

If you call on Mr. Emerson today, I think you had better call in the afternoon, as he told me he was engaged Wednesday and Saturday forenoons.

If you visit Mr. Emerson today, I suggest you come in the afternoon since he mentioned he’s busy on Wednesday and Saturday mornings.

Don’t have any neuralgia when you come to the Hospital today, or I may want to try my Electromagnetic machine on your face. I have not seen Dr. Zakrzewska yet, but I want you to come early.

Don’t have any nerve pain when you come to the hospital today, or I might want to try my Electromagnetic machine on your face. I haven’t seen Dr. Zakrzewska yet, but I want you to come early.

Yours sincerely,

Lucy C. Sewall.”

Dr. Lucy Sewall was at this time a young woman of 28, a worthy descendant of “a long line of truly noble ancestry.”^[37] She held the appointment of Resident Physician to the New England Hospital for Women and Children (an institution which had been founded in great measure through the exertions of her father, the Hon. Samuel Sewall), but there was nothing about her to suggest that she had adopted what was at that time an unusual line of life for a woman. Singularly girlish in appearance, she was and remained throughout life so gentle and womanly that, until one knew her well, her reserves of strength were a source of repeated surprise. “So simple and humble and kindly,” writes S. J.-B. at this time,—“said she ‘could not succeed in learning to think enough before she spoke about a case.’”

Dr. Lucy Sewall was 28 years old at this time, a deserving descendant of “a long line of truly noble ancestry.”^[37] She served as the Resident Physician at the New England Hospital for Women and Children (an institution largely established through her father, the Hon. Samuel Sewall), but nothing about her suggested that she had chosen what was considered an unusual career path for a woman at that time. With a distinctly youthful appearance, she was throughout her life remarkably gentle and feminine, so much so that until you got to know her well, her hidden strengths were often surprising. “So simple and humble and kind,” writes S. J.-B. at this time,—“she said she ‘could not succeed in learning to think enough before she spoke about a case.’”

No wonder S. J.-B. was attracted. A warm friendship sprang up between the two young women, a friendship by 163means of which S. J.-B. was introduced primarily to the world of Medicine, and, secondarily, to the wide question of Feminism. She had been living, of course, in a feminist world at home, and a very choice world of its kind; but here the movement had become more explicit, its aims were clearly defined and partially realized. It had, no doubt, lost a certain amount of charm in the process, but that is the fate of all movements the world over. They too have to be worked out “in the commonplace clay with which the world provides us.”

It's no surprise that S. J.-B. was drawn in. A close friendship developed between the two young women, a friendship that introduced S. J.-B. primarily to the field of Medicine, and secondarily to the broader topic of Feminism. She had certainly been immersed in a feminist environment at home, a unique one at that; however, here the movement was more straightforward, its goals were clearly outlined and somewhat achieved. Although it likely lost some of its allure in the process, that's the reality for all movements around the globe. They too must be shaped "in the commonplace clay with which the world provides us."

In any case S. J.-B. was profoundly influenced by the change of atmosphere. Her conception of woman’s work and woman’s sphere began to widen out. On June 22nd she writes to her Mother:

In any case, S. J.-B. was deeply affected by the shift in atmosphere. Her view of a woman's work and role started to expand. On June 22nd, she writes to her mother:

“We saw Miss Crocker the other day,—late Mathematical professor at Antioch,—and she impressed me extremely with her quiet dignity and wisdom, and her tremendous Mathematics,—I should so like to study under her some day. I felt like an uppish dwarf beside some strong quiet giant.”

“We saw Miss Crocker the other day—she’s a retired math professor at Antioch—and I was really struck by her calm dignity and insight, as well as her impressive math skills. I would really love to study under her someday. I felt like a cocky little person next to a strong, quiet giant.”

And a few days later:

A few days later:

“By the way that wonderful astronomer, Maria Mitchell, whom I told you we were going to see, is a very nice woman—grand and able and strong and kindly.... She is to be a professor at Poughkeepsie, and, if we go there, I shall certainly hope to learn of her,—though I did not know that Astronomy would ever have come into my life. Any way it will be a great pleasure to know such a woman.”

“By the way, that amazing astronomer, Maria Mitchell, who I mentioned we were going to see, is a really nice woman—impressive, capable, strong, and kind.... She’s going to be a professor in Poughkeepsie, and if we go there, I definitely hope to learn from her—even though I never thought Astronomy would play a role in my life. Either way, it will be a great pleasure to meet such a woman.”

On the same day she records in her diary:

On the same day, she notes in her diary:

“Sat for a couple of hours in Dr. Sewall’s dispensary this morning. Some 36 cases heard and helped more or less. Some coming with bright faces,—‘So much better, Doctor,’—some in pain enough, poor souls. Dr. Sewall with such a kindly ready sympathy, and such clear firm treatment for them all. Certainly the right woman in the right place, except in as far as she herself gets to look sadly fagged and tired sometimes.”

“Sat for a couple of hours in Dr. Sewall’s clinic this morning. Around 36 cases were heard and helped to some extent. Some arrived with bright faces, saying, ‘I feel so much better, Doctor,’ while others were in quite a bit of pain, poor souls. Dr. Sewall showed such kind, ready sympathy, along with clear and firm treatment for all of them. She's definitely the right person in the right role, except that sometimes she looks a bit worn out and tired.”

The state of S. J.-B.’s own health continued very unsatisfactory. “What is one to do,” she says, “when one has alternate days of ‘feeling like a tallow candle,’ and days of feeling rather grand and energetic, like yesterday, when my ‘book’ was begun with a bounce?” After watching her for some weeks, Dr. Sewall pronounced her “worn out in 164mind and body,” and advised a holiday among the hills until the excessive heat was over. So she paid a delightful visit to Professor and Mrs. Rogers at Lunenburg, and then went on to West Compton near the White Mountains. “The railway (a single line) cut through delicious woods with no fence or wall, just through the wildest glades full of ferns and pyrolas,—vistas of sun on fir and maple boles,—then again by the side of one lovely lake after another, a perfect prodigality of beauty.”

The condition of S. J.-B.’s health remained very poor. “What’s one to do,” she says, “when some days I feel like a worn-out candle, and other days I feel pretty great and full of energy, like yesterday, when I started my ‘book’ with a burst of enthusiasm?” After observing her for a few weeks, Dr. Sewall declared her “exhausted in mind and body,” and recommended a vacation in the hills until the heat died down. So she enjoyed a lovely visit with Professor and Mrs. Rogers in Lunenburg, and then headed to West Compton near the White Mountains. “The railway (a single track) ran through gorgeous woods with no fences or walls, just through the wildest clearings filled with ferns and pyrolas—glimpses of sunlight on fir and maple trunks—then again alongside one beautiful lake after another, an absolute abundance of beauty.”

“Aug. 18th 1865.

West Compton.

Darling Mother,—I don’t think I shall be able to write by the next mail, as we are going for a few days’ excursion round the mountains, so I must send you off now as long a letter as I can manage, telling you what we have been doing just lately.

Hey Mom,—I don’t think I’ll be able to write by the next mail because we’re going on a short trip around the mountains for a few days, so I need to send you a long letter now to catch you up on what we’ve been up to lately.

First and foremost, I have been coming in useful as ‘teamster’, in Yankee parlance, having been chiefly employed in driving my neighbours all about the country lately. You would have laughed, I think, had you seen my ‘span’ (pair of horses) the other day,—one brown, pretty high,—the other mouse coloured and some three inches lower, the most delightful variety prevailing in the harnessing and general appearance of the two. Behind these beauties came six of us in a big rough country ‘wagon’, all of painted wood,—two big seats fixed in a sort of open cart.

First of all, I've been pretty useful as a "teamster," in Yankee lingo, mostly driving my neighbors all over the place lately. You would have laughed, I think, if you had seen my "span" (pair of horses) the other day—one brown and fairly tall; the other mouse-colored and a few inches shorter, with such a charming contrast in how they looked and were harnessed. Behind these beauties, there were six of us in a big, rugged country "wagon," all made of painted wood—two big seats attached to a kind of open cart.

We went through such a ford,—the Penningewassett River, and (when the horses didn’t bite each other) we got on grandly....”grandly....”

We crossed such a shallow stream—the Penningewassett River, and (when the horses didn’t try to bite each other) we continued on grandly...grandly....”

“You haven’t the least idea what that word ‘woods’ means,—in England there are just a few acres of carefully preserved trees and ‘no trespassers allowed’. Here you plunge into a vast forest, miles and miles every way,—lucky if you can find a path at all, else guiding yourself by sun and stream and taking hours and hours to get a mile or two,—yet all through so grand, so green, and so delicious! If you could just have been with us yesterday! Every few minutes we found some great tree fallen across our path, or some black bog of decayed cedar or pine,—oh, the scents of those!—perfectly delicious;—and then round we had to go, creeping, jumping or gliding round the obstruction. Then we would come to some little clearing, and catch such views of the mountains we were shut in with,—then on again and hardly see daylight through the dense trees. And such mosses, such ferns, such berries!

“You have no idea what the word ‘woods’ really means. In England, there are just a few acres of carefully maintained trees with ‘no trespassing’ signs. Here, you dive into a vast forest that stretches for miles in every direction—good luck finding a path at all. You’ll have to rely on the sun and the streams to guide you, and it can take hours to cover just a mile or two—but it’s all so grand, so green, and so amazing! If only you could have joined us yesterday! Every few minutes, we encountered a massive tree fallen across our path or a black bog of decayed cedar or pine—oh, the scents of those! Absolutely delightful; and then we had to navigate around the obstacles, creeping, jumping, or gliding. Then we’d reach a small clearing and glimpse the mountains surrounding us—then back into the dense trees where daylight was hard to find. And the mosses, the ferns, the berries were incredible!”

Then over the river somehow from rock to rock, and such a scramble up among the cascades which came leaping down like liquid silver in the sunlight, and such pools we did so want to bathe 165in, and had to [refrain] for lack of time and towels! They called the distance 2½ or 3 miles, but we took just 3 hours to get there,—and then coming back pretty sharply in about half the time. The only grief to me was—what perhaps you will hardly sympathize in—that we didn’t come across any bear. There are a good many left in the woods and one hears every now and then of their being met, but they are getting few, and they are proportionately timid and modest, running off full speed if they see you. Wouldn’t it have been fun to see one?...

Then we made our way across the river, hopping from rock to rock, scrambling up through the cascades that came rushing down like liquid silver in the sunlight. There were pools we really wanted to swim in, but we had to hold back because we didn't have enough time or towels! They said the distance was 2½ or 3 miles, but it took us 3 hours to get there, and then we made it back in about half the time. The only disappointment for me was—although you might not feel the same—that we didn’t see any bears. There are still quite a few in the woods, and you hear about people encountering them now and then, but they’re becoming rare and are pretty shy, running away as soon as they spot you. Wouldn’t it have been exciting to see one?...

I think hardly anything strikes an Englisher more than the no-value of wood here. Over the water it’s half high treason to hurt a tree;—here, if you want a napkin-ring, you strip the bark off the first birch you come to and make a lot; or, if you take it into your head, set fire to the woods anywhere and have a bonfire of a dozen trees, and no one says a word. We have seen woods on fire over and over again, and no one says more than,—‘Oh, somebody’s fired the wood’; and the odd thing is it doesn’t seem to spread as one would expect.

I think nothing surprises an English person more than the lack of appreciation for wood here. Across the ocean, it’s essentially a crime to harm a tree; here, if you need a napkin ring, you just take the bark off the first birch you find and make a bunch. Or, if you feel like it, you can set fire to the woods anywhere and have a bonfire with a dozen trees, and no one says a thing. We’ve seen woods on fire time and again, and all anyone says is, ‘Oh, someone started a fire in the woods’; and the strange part is, it doesn’t seem to spread like you’d expect.

One comes continually to clearings full of blackened stumps not yet grubbed up,—the beginning of a garden or house place perhaps. I want to see a great big forest fire some day,—and I only wish I might see a prairie on fire too; only that is said to be horribly dangerous. It is so funny to hear here, as when I was asking about a certain road (from St. Louis to California), ‘Yes, it’s the shortest, but the Indians are cross just now and have been scalping a lot of people there’!

One keeps coming across clearings filled with charred stumps that haven’t been cleared yet—maybe the start of a garden or a home. I really want to see a massive forest fire someday—and I wish I could see a prairie on fire too; though that’s said to be really dangerous. It’s so amusing to hear, like when I was asking about a specific road (from St. Louis to California), someone said, ‘Sure, it’s the shortest route, but the Native Americans are upset right now and have been scalping a lot of people there!’

Well, darling, we had such a drive home by starlight last night, and all enjoyed our day hugely. When we got in I suppose I walked slightly lame or something, for my greeting was,—‘I guess you’re tired, an’t you? You’re kind o’ waggling’!”

Well, sweetheart, we had such a wonderful drive home under the stars last night, and we all loved our day. When we got in, I think I walked a bit awkwardly or something, because my greeting was, "I guess you’re tired, aren’t you? You’re kind of swaying!"

One is quite sorry to see the Boston postmark again; but the high spirits do not flag. “You don’t know,” she writes to her Mother, “what an immense thing it is for us to have got free admission to the Woman’s Hospital life here,—we are always doing something jolly together with the students and doctors,—all women, by the way.

One feels a bit disappointed to see the Boston postmark again; however, the excitement doesn't fade. “You have no idea,” she writes to her mother, “how great it is for us to get free access to the Woman’s Hospital life here—we’re always doing something fun together with the students and doctors—all women, by the way.

Dr. Sewall is resident Physician, and is always asking us to spend jolly evenings there,—or to join them in going to theatres, etc. Yesterday we made an expedition in the evening to a famous place for ice-cream, 8 of us there were—4 M.D.s (one of whom is a splendid surgeon,—the first female surgeon I have heard of) two students and we two. After the ices we went back to the Hospital, and played a most ridiculous game of cards called ‘Muggins’, keeping 166us in roars of laughter half the time. Then Dr. Tyng (the surgeon) sang, and, among other things gave us a specimen of the ‘Shaker’ singing—with its very peculiar religious dance,—have you heard about the Shakers? I hope to see them and then I will tell you.

Dr. Sewall is the resident physician, and he's always inviting us to have fun evenings there or to join them for outings to theaters and such. Yesterday, we took a trip in the evening to a popular ice cream spot—there were 8 of us—4 M.D.s (one of whom is an amazing surgeon, the first female surgeon I’ve heard of), two students, and the two of us. After enjoying the ice cream, we went back to the hospital and played a really silly card game called ‘Muggins,’ which had us laughing uncontrollably half the time. Then Dr. Tyng (the surgeon) sang and, among other things, gave us a taste of the ‘Shaker’ singing, complete with its unique religious dance—have you heard about the Shakers? I hope to see them, and then I’ll tell you.

But can’t you understand how refreshing it is to slip into the bright life of all these working people—working hard all day, and then so ready for fun when work’s over? It reminds me of the full colour and life of the old London times when all we working women were together.”

But can’t you understand how refreshing it is to jump into the vibrant lives of all these hardworking people—putting in long hours and then so ready for fun when the workday ends? It takes me back to the lively colors and spirit of the old London days when all of us working women were united.

So she utilised every opportunity of getting information likely to help in her study of the conditions of Women’s education. She regretted in after life that her dislike of ‘lion-hunting’ had prevented her from making—or cultivating—the acquaintance of well-known people who did not seem likely to be of direct help in her work. Not that she disdained the opportunities when they actually came within reach. Here is an interesting episode in the course of her wanderings:

So she took advantage of every chance to gather information that might help her understand women's education. Later in life, she wished she hadn't let her dislike of 'lion-hunting' stop her from getting to know prominent people who didn’t seem likely to directly assist her work. It’s not that she looked down on the opportunities when they actually came her way. Here's an interesting story from her travels:

“Sept. 9th. Went over to Concord, Mass. by 11 a.m. train. At the station found Waldo Emerson just fetching his wife and friends. I spoke to him and he very cordially asked us to ‘take our dinner’ with him. We accepted, first paying a visit to Mrs. Horace Mann and Miss Peabody. Mrs. Mann gave me a letter to Mr. Pennel (her nephew) at St. Louis, whither I am advised to go after Oberlin and Antioch perhaps. Poughkeepsie we must visit later, by wish of the President, Dr. Raymond.

“Sept. 9th. Took the 11 a.m. train to Concord, Mass. At the station, I ran into Waldo Emerson, who was picking up his wife and friends. I chatted with him, and he warmly invited us to join him for dinner. We agreed, first stopping by to visit Mrs. Horace Mann and Miss Peabody. Mrs. Mann gave me a letter for her nephew, Mr. Pennel, in St. Louis, which I’m advised to head to after visiting Oberlin and possibly Antioch. We’ll need to visit Poughkeepsie later, as requested by the President, Dr. Raymond.”

Went on to Emerson’s to dinner. Was received by one of the daughters, Ellen,—simple and kindly, the ‘housekeeper’, I should think—and shown into a room with several people.... About 3 p.m. dinner served, more English-wise than most, though with a new Irish maid for waiter, who looked anxiously to ‘Ellen’ for orders. Another daughter, Edith (about to be married) and a son, Edward. They had sherry on the table, which I have only seen at the Rogers’ besides,... Pears and grapes,—partly the queer sage grapes with tarry flavour,—on a pretty basket, large and shallow.

Went over to Emerson's for dinner. I was greeted by one of the daughters, Ellen—she seemed simple and kind, probably the 'housekeeper'—and shown into a room with several people. Around 3 p.m., dinner was served, more English-style than most, although there was a new Irish maid serving who looked nervously to 'Ellen' for instructions. Another daughter, Edith (who’s about to get married), and a son, Edward, were there too. They had sherry on the table, which I’ve only seen at the Rogers’ place before. There were pears and grapes—some of the odd sage grapes with a tarry flavor—in a nice, large, shallow basket.

Mr. Emerson struck me as having one of the sweetest expressions I have ever seen on a man’s mouth. He was very kind in offering help. We talked besides a little about Swedenborg, for whom he seemed to have some admiration. ‘To be read as one reads a poet’s ideas,—not critically,’ he said, and spoke of the pre-inspiration works on science, etc., as really valuable.

Mr. Emerson seemed to have one of the kindest expressions I’ve ever seen on a man’s face. He was very supportive in offering help. We also chatted a bit about Swedenborg, who he seemed to admire. "You should read him like you’d read a poet’s ideas—without being critical," he said, and he mentioned that the pre-inspiration works on science and so on were genuinely valuable.

Mrs. Emerson talked a little about ‘women’s questions’, female franchise, etc.—and spoke of the wonderful blinding power of habit,—as 167in slavery question,—looking to Christianity in its advance to set all to rights.

Mrs. Emerson talked a bit about "women's issues," women's voting rights, and the amazing, almost overwhelming influence of habit—similar to the slavery debate—hoping that Christianity, as it progresses, would help fix everything.

I remarked that few had done more harm to the cause than St. Paul by some of his words. She replied very truly that the fault lay rather in those who would rigidly apply such words and consider them binding out of all connection of time and place.”place.”

I noted that few had caused more damage to the cause than St. Paul with some of his words. She accurately replied that the real issue was with those who would strictly interpret such words and see them as unchangeable, without considering the context of time and place.place.”

It was left to a later friend to point out that St. Paul showed himself in this respect the John Stuart Mill of his day when he asserted that ‘in Jesus Christ is neither male nor female.’

It was up to a later friend to highlight that St. Paul was, in this way, the John Stuart Mill of his time when he stated that "in Jesus Christ there is neither male nor female."

“Speaking a little to an old schoolfellow of Emerson’s he told me it was hard for anyone to say what Emerson’s opinions were. I said I had heard of him as a pantheist; he said at any rate he was one of the best of men and had been from boyhood up.”

“Talking a bit with an old classmate of Emerson’s, he mentioned that it was tough for anyone to clearly define Emerson’s opinions. I said I had heard he was a pantheist; he replied that, at the very least, Emerson was one of the best men and had been that way since he was a boy.”

A few days later she visited Niagara,—“the only ‘pleasure’ thing” she tells her Mother, “I resolved to do if possible. We hope to spend next Sunday there,—not a bad church, will it be?”be?” From Niagara she writes to Mrs. Unwin:

A few days later she visited Niagara,—“the only ‘fun’ thing” she tells her mother, “I decided to do if possible. We hope to spend next Sunday there,—not a bad church, will it be?be?” From Niagara she writes to Mrs. Unwin:

“Sept. 17th. 1865.

Niagara.

My dear Lucy,

My dear Lucy

I congratulate you with all my heart on the birth of your little son! I think by this time you will have forgotten all doubts and difficulties, and all but pleasant feelings of responsibility, in your great content, have you not? God very seldom sends us either duties or blessings without showing us how to fulfil and enjoy and use them, and I do not doubt but you will have found in your own case all sorts of new powers and instincts develop with the need of them, and will have by this time a pretty definite idea ‘What to do with a baby’—Is it not so?...

I wholeheartedly congratulate you on the arrival of your little son! By now, I’m sure you’ve put aside any doubts or challenges, replaced by the joy and responsibility that comes with this blessing, right? God rarely gives us responsibilities or blessings without revealing how to embrace and appreciate them. I have no doubt that you've discovered new strengths and instincts that emerged from the need for them, and by now, you must have a pretty clear idea of “What to do with a baby”—Is that right?...

I wish there existed a visual telegraph (if such a phrase may be coined) and that I could give you a glimpse of the scene I have in front of me, and which is continually stealing my eyes from my paper. No less than Niagara in its full glory!—and what that glory is I don’t think any but eyes can tell. I have seen a good deal of beauty and grandeur in my life, in Great Britain, Italy, Switzerland, etc., but I think never anything so wonderfully, bewitchingly, grandly beautifullybeautifully as this. People talk of being disappointed in Niagara, but I think it can only be because, for the first moment, the enormous width of the Falls (900 feet in one case, 2000 in the other,—separated by an island) prevents their recognizing their height as well, or else they have not got the right natures to 168admire with! (and I think that last is oftener the case than people think).

I wish there were a visual telegraph (if that's a phrase we can create) so I could show you the scene in front of me, which keeps pulling my focus away from my paper. It's nothing less than Niagara at its peak!—and only eyes can truly capture what that peak is. I’ve seen a lot of beauty and grandeur in my life, in places like Great Britain, Italy, Switzerland, and so on, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as wonderfully, magically, and grandly beautiful as this. People say they’re disappointed by Niagara, but I believe it’s only because, at first glance, the massive width of the Falls (900 feet in one spot, 2000 in another—divided by an island) makes it hard for them to appreciate their height, or maybe they just lack the right disposition to truly admire it! (and I think that’s more common than people realize).

It gives one most wonderfully the feeling of power and immensity,—the sort of feeling that was [expressed] long ago, ‘When I consider the work of Thy fingers, what is man that Thou are mindful of him?’—and yet the feeling of infinite beauty and harmony too. Before leaving we go under the Falls, and into the ‘Cave of the Winds’ behind a vast curtain of water, and that I think must give one almost more strongly still the impression of might and vastness. It is very little use to talk about it any more, I wish you could see it!

It really gives you an amazing sense of power and vastness—the kind of feeling that was captured long ago, ‘When I consider the work of Your fingers, what is humanity that You are mindful of them?’—and yet it also evokes a sense of infinite beauty and harmony. Before we leave, we go beneath the Falls and into the ‘Cave of the Winds’ behind an enormous curtain of water, and I think that must intensify the impression of strength and scale even more. There’s really no point in talking about it any further; I wish you could see it!

Thank you very much for writing to my Mother about A. I hope she will get away from her present uncomfortable place,—it would give me great pleasure if she came to you. Only I warn you I shall claim her some day!

Thank you so much for writing to my mom about A. I really hope she can leave her current uncomfortable situation—it would make me very happy if she came to stay with you. Just a heads up, though: I will want her back someday!

Goodbye, dear child. With all good wishes for you and yours, I am ever

Goodbye, dear child. Wishing you and your loved ones all the best, I am always

Yours very sincerely,

S.L. Jex-Blake.”

From Niagara she went via Cleveland to Oberlin, and so began the tour which she afterwards described in A Visit to some American Schools and Colleges (published by Macmillan in 1867). She had been very kindly advised by Dr. Hill, the President of Harvard, as to the Colleges best worth visiting, and the experience proved both interesting and useful. At Oberlin the two sexes were almost equally represented, and “coloured” students formed about a third of the whole number. “In the year of my visit,” she writes, “it so happened that the only woman who graduated was a coloured girl, originally a slave, who had not even then paid her full ransom to her former owners.” A considerable proportion of students of both sexes supported themselves wholly or in part by doing the domestic work of the establishment. Manners were rather rough even for the America of those days, but the standard of behaviour was high, and the religious atmosphere almost overwhelming.

From Niagara, she traveled through Cleveland to Oberlin, starting the tour she later detailed in A Visit to some American Schools and Colleges (published by Macmillan in 1867). Dr. Hill, the President of Harvard, had kindly advised her on which colleges were worth visiting, and the experience turned out to be both interesting and valuable. At Oberlin, the male and female students were nearly equally represented, and about a third of all students were “colored.” “During my visit,” she wrote, “the only woman who graduated was a colored girl, who had originally been a slave and still hadn’t fully paid her former owners for her freedom.” A significant number of students, both male and female, supported themselves entirely or partly by doing domestic work for the school. Manners were quite rough even for America at that time, but the standard of behavior was high, and the religious atmosphere was almost overwhelming.

From Oberlin she went on to Hillsdale, St. Louis, and Antioch (at Yellow Springs in Ohio) spending a few days or weeks at each; and afterwards she visited a number of schools. What impressed her perhaps more than anything else was the success with which the joint education of men 169and women was carried on, and this impression was destined to play its part in the later struggles of her life.

From Oberlin, she traveled to Hillsdale, St. Louis, and Antioch (in Yellow Springs, Ohio), spending a few days or weeks in each place. After that, she visited several schools. What struck her more than anything else was the success of coeducation for men and women, and this impression would play a significant role in her future struggles.

“If anyone asks you again about my views of comparative English and American teaching,” she writes to her Mother, “I suppose I may say that I believe on the whole American girls are more thoroughly, and especially more universally, taught fundamental things. They learn Mathematics more thoroughly, and Latin more invariably; their knowledge of modern languages is decidedly inferior (very naturally, being so far from France, Germany, etc.) and their English and their manners both less polished. But I should think a decidedly smaller number of them are able to manage to grow up quite ignorant!” It annoyed her a good deal that, in the matter of pronunciation, an American will always ask you “what dictionary you go by,” and seems quite unable to understand the unwritten law of language which in England reigns supreme, and from which, if a dictionary differs, it simply condemns itself.

“If anyone asks you again about my views on comparative English and American teaching,” she writes to her mother, “I suppose I can say that I believe, on the whole, American girls are more thoroughly and universally taught fundamental things. They grasp Mathematics more fully and Latin more consistently; however, their knowledge of modern languages is noticeably inferior (which is understandable, given their distance from France, Germany, etc.), and their English and manners are both less polished. But I would think a significantly smaller number of them manage to grow up completely ignorant!” It frustrated her quite a bit that, when it comes to pronunciation, an American always asks you “what dictionary you follow” and seems completely unable to grasp the unwritten law of language that reigns supreme in England, which states that if a dictionary differs, it simply loses credibility.

Her birthday inspired a breezy letter from her brother:

Her birthday sparked a lighthearted letter from her brother:

“13 Sussex Square, Brighton.

Jan. 21. 1866.

My dear Sophy,

Many happy returns of your 26th birthday, as they would say in Ireland: and may they ache find you younger and fresher!

Many happy returns on your 26th birthday, as they would say in Ireland: and may each one find you younger and fresher!

We have been enjoying three very fresh but windy weeks here; and are now leaving tomorrow for Rugby. We leave Violet, Katharine and Netta here, however, as they are only half through measles....

We’ve been having three quite fresh but windy weeks here, and we’re leaving for Rugby tomorrow. We’re leaving Violet, Katharine, and Netta here, though, since they’re only halfway through their measles.

We have ridden a good deal, been with the hounds more than usual; and not read much. Lecky on Rationalism is the best book I have read lately, of the fairly solid sort; Swinburne’s Atalanta the best new poem; Citoyenne Jacqueline the best new novel; Mr. ——’s the worst stale sermons. Is there anything good out in American literature of late? Artemus Ward is good in his line, but his line is audacious.

We've done a lot of riding, spent more time with the hounds than usual, and haven’t read much. Lecky's book on Rationalism is the best solid read I’ve had lately; Swinburne's Atalanta is the best new poem; Citoyenne Jacqueline is the best new novel; and Mr. ——’s work features the worst stale sermons. Is there anything good in recent American literature? Artemus Ward is good at what he does, but his style is pretty bold.

I should like six months in America immensely; locomotive, with introductions, I don’t know the politics of the people you are with or have been with; but I was always a Northerner.... I wonder how the Mexican business will end: and cannot pretend to guess: but I hope Louis Napoleon ... will soon withdraw his troops, and Maximilian will collapse. We are on the eve of a noisy session, I expect; Home Office stung by reform into a queer tarantula, and Colonial secretaries badgered about Jamaica by both sides of the 170House. I cannot pretend to judge till we get more evidence: but as yet none has turned up which in my eyes justifies the execution of Gordon—who for all that was probably deep.... Have I wearied you out with politics? or have you not read so far?

I'd really enjoy spending six months in America; traveling by train and meeting people, I’m not sure about the politics of the folks you’re around or have been around; but I’ve always identified as a Northerner.... I wonder how the situation in Mexico will play out: I can’t even begin to guess: but I hope Louis Napoleon will pull his troops out soon, and that Maximilian will fall apart. I expect we’re on the brink of a chaotic session; the Home Office, spurred by reform, acting all weird, and colonial secretaries being pressured about Jamaica from both sides of the 170House. I can't make a fair judgment until we have more information: but so far, nothing has come up that in my opinion justifies the execution of Gordon—who, despite everything, was probably quite clever.... Have I exhausted you with politics? Or have you not read this far?

With love from us all,
I am your affecte brother,
T.W. Jex-Blake.”

She answered the letter while the stimulus of it was fresh:

She replied to the letter while the feelings from it were still fresh:

“Dear Tom,

“Hey Tom,

Many thanks for your birthday letter. Though they came rather late, I got quite a budget at last.

Many thanks for your birthday letter. Even though it arrived a bit late, I finally got a nice amount.

I quite agree that you ought to come and see America,—both its people and its scenery. It’s a queer study in all ways, one finds so much to like and respect, and so much that one is inclined to laugh at. People are certainly less tied and bound by the chain of ‘on dit’, on this side the water, and that tells more for good than for evil, I think; but on the other hand it lets people who are so inclined fall into overgrown eccentricities, and set at nought to an alarming extent all rules of grammar and etiquette when they don’t suit. In fact I have not found more than three or four Americans altogether who talk what we should consider cultivated English, or behave as if they had been in what we call cultivated society. They’ll pick their teeth while they talk to you (so will the shopmen—‘store clerks’, if you please,—while they serve you) spit within an inch of you, eat things in the streets while walking with you, perhaps whistle and sing ditto; talk about what they ‘had ought to do’, say they should ‘admire to do so and so for you’ or ask if they shall ‘turn out the tea,’ etc. And all this from men who have been through College, and women who know more Mathematics, Latin, Greek and Philosophy than I dare think about. In fact there’s a very curious contrast in the much higher level of learning and the much lower level of outward signs of refinement in American as compared with English averages.

I completely agree that you should come and see America—both its people and its landscapes. It's a strange experience in every way; you find so much to appreciate and respect, and so much that makes you want to laugh. People are definitely less bound by gossip on this side of the ocean, which is more beneficial than harmful, I think. However, it also allows some individuals to embrace unusual quirks and disregard grammar and etiquette rules to a concerning degree when they don’t fit their style. In fact, I’ve only encountered three or four Americans altogether who speak what we would consider refined English or behave as if they belong to what we refer to as cultured society. They’ll pick their teeth while talking to you (and so will the shopkeepers—‘store clerks,’ if you prefer—while they serve you), spit just inches away, eat in the streets while walking alongside you, and might even whistle and sing the same. They talk about what they “had ought to do,” say they should “admire to do this or that for you,” or ask if they should “turn out the tea,” etc. And all this comes from men who have been through college and women who know more math, Latin, Greek, and philosophy than I dare to think about. There’s a very interesting contrast between the much higher level of education and the much lower level of outward signs of refinement in Americans compared to the English averages.

I’m afraid that while we may have some few hundreds better educated,—more ‘elegant scholars’—than any in America, we must confess that there is here a very much higher percentage of fairly well read and well educated people than with us. I notice this specially among the girls—as to the men I know less. But almost all girls here have studied a good deal things few English girls go much into—specially Mathematics and natural science.

I’m afraid that while we might have a few hundred people who are better educated—more ‘refined scholars’—than anyone in America, we have to admit that there is a much higher percentage of fairly well-read and educated individuals here than there is with us. I especially notice this among the girls—I know less about the men. But almost all the girls here have studied a lot of subjects that few English girls pursue, especially Mathematics and natural science.

Then I am sure no one ought to speak more highly than I of American kindness and hospitality,—I am very much afraid few foreigners would have found in England such a welcome as I met with here. People were so cordially kind in helping me in all sorts 171of ways.... There seems to me much less of the spirit of ‘pride of office,’ etc., much more readiness to admit one everywhere to see everything, and to be ready to help without standing too much on one’s dignity. I found this specially in the case of Dr. Hill, President of Harvard University, the first in America—and the same in the case of the presidents of the colleges for both sexes, Oberlin, Hillsdale, and Antioch.

Then I'm sure no one should speak more highly than I do about American kindness and hospitality—I really think few foreigners would have found such a warm welcome in England as I experienced here. People were incredibly helpful in all sorts of ways.... There seems to be much less of that attitude of ‘pride in one’s position,’ and a lot more willingness to let people in to see everything, plus a readiness to help without being overly concerned about maintaining one's dignity. I noticed this especially with Dr. Hill, the President of Harvard University, the first in America—and the same goes for the presidents of the colleges for both men and women, like Oberlin, Hillsdale, and Antioch.

I don’t know whether you will care for all these results of my observations, but your mention of America and wish to see it drew them out.

I’m not sure if you’ll be interested in all these results of my observations, but your mention of America and your desire to see it brought them to mind.

As to politics, I knew very little about them before I came, and had a faint sort of prejudice in favour of the South, believing the North to be very insincere about slavery, etc. I now think that the Anti-slavery cry has been used most shamelessly for private and political ends by some, but that there is at the heart of Yankeedom a strong true heart beating earnestly in favour of liberty for negroes as well as whites, and that there are and have been very many most sincerely bent on very unselfish ends, and a great deal of real patriotism (on both sides probably) evolved by the war.

When it comes to politics, I didn’t know much before I arrived, and I had a slight bias in favor of the South, thinking the North was pretty insincere about slavery, among other things. Now, I believe that the anti-slavery movement has been exploited shamelessly for personal and political gain by some, but deep down in the North, there is a genuine commitment to liberty for both Black people and white people. Many individuals are truly dedicated to selfless causes, and a significant amount of real patriotism (probably on both sides) has emerged because of the war.

I am chiefly with some of the very best of the Anti-slavery people. The Sewalls used to shelter escaped negroes when to do so was a penal offence.

I mainly associate with some of the best Anti-slavery advocates. The Sewalls used to hide escaped slaves when it was a criminal act to do so.

I saw Lecky’s Rationalism (which ought rather to be called the History of Reasonableness) before I left England, but only read part of it. I first found it on Miss Cobbe’s table, and liked it very much. I don’t know of any great American books lately,—they pirate almost everything English.

I saw Lecky’s Rationalism (which should really be called the History of Reasonableness) before I left England, but only read a bit of it. I first discovered it on Miss Cobbe’s table and liked it a lot. I’m not aware of any significant American books recently—they basically copy almost everything from England.

I think the English here must be feeling pretty badly about Jamaican affairs,—I am. They say the French troops are certainly to evacuate Mexico now....

I think the English here must be feeling pretty bad about Jamaican affairs—I know I am. They say the French troops are definitely going to leave Mexico now...

I hope Hetty got thanked for her note a little while ago,—this letter is meant as much for her as for you, though I forgot to begin it so. Love to the bairns. I suppose I shall scarcely know them when I get back.

I hope Hetty got thanked for her note a little while ago—this letter is just as much for her as it is for you, even though I forgot to start it that way. Send my love to the kids. I guess I won’t hardly recognize them when I get back.

Your aff. sister,

S. L. J.-B.”

172

CHAPTER XIV
QUESTIONINGS

When S. J.-B. left England her plan had been to spend at least part of the winter with an old school-friend, now married to the Revd. Addington Venables—afterwards Bishop—of Nassau in the West Indies; but life in Boston proved too attractive. She liked the women doctors and they liked her; possibly they had designs on her; in any case Dr. Sewall was anxious to get her health up to such a level as would make professional life a possibility; and, for the furtherance of this end, it was arranged that she should share the resident’s little house in connection with the hospital. Miss Isabel Bain had gone to pursue her education in one of the good girls’ schools. Already in October one had heard of S. J.-B. “helping the doctor through oceans of figures in hospital reports,” and one can well believe that she was an efficient member of the little community. The very day after she took up her residence in the hospital precincts the “student” who did the dispensing was summoned away, and as—of course!—there was a run of arduous cases at the same time, S. J.-B. cheerfully volunteered to do the dispensing,—“and was very thankfully accepted” to fill the gap! Within a week she writes to her Mother:

When S. J.-B. left England, her plan was to spend at least part of the winter with an old school friend, now married to the Revd. Addington Venables—who later became the Bishop—of Nassau in the West Indies. However, life in Boston turned out to be too appealing. She enjoyed the company of the female doctors, and they appreciated her as well; they might have had ambitions for her; in any case, Dr. Sewall was eager to improve her health to a level that would make a professional career possible. To help with this, it was arranged for her to share the resident’s small house connected to the hospital. Miss Isabel Bain had gone off to continue her education at one of the better girls' schools. By October, S. J.-B. was already reported to be “helping the doctor through tons of figures in hospital reports,” and it’s easy to believe she was a valuable member of the small community. The very day after she moved into the hospital grounds, the “student” responsible for dispensing medication was called away, and naturally, there was a surge of demanding cases at the same time. S. J.-B. gladly volunteered to do the dispensing—and was very gratefully accepted to fill the gap! Within a week, she wrote to her Mother:

“It’s very amusing, dear, to learn to write and make up prescriptions so easily,—I shall be up to the doctors in future you see! I have just been making one up for myself under the doctor’s directions, to my great amusement,— ... and precious nasty it is!

“It’s really funny, dear, to learn how to write and create prescriptions so easily—I’ll be just like the doctors from now on, you see! I just made one up for myself with the doctor’s guidance, and it’s been quite amusing— ... and it tastes pretty awful!”

It’s a great comfort to be of some sort of use to these people who are so frightfully overworked just now.... Besides being apothecary, I’m general secretary,—write all the business letters (which 173the doctor hates) and post up the hospital records of cases, etc.; and besides this I requested to be and got appointed what I call ‘chaplain’ with discretionary powers. The only people who visit in the hospital (besides friends at visiting hours) are the Lady Managers, each of whom has a month on duty, and besides that Mr. Barnard comes and holds a short service and preaches every Sunday afternoon. So I thought that the patients would like some reading, etc., sometimes, and Dr. Sewall gave me leave to do all I liked.... You can’t think how pleased they were all of them, and how heartily they asked me to come again, which I shall do pretty often.”

It’s really comforting to be able to help these people who are so incredibly overworked right now.... Besides being the pharmacist, I’m also the general secretary—I write all the business letters (which the doctor really dislikes) and keep up with the hospital records for cases, etc.; and on top of that, I asked to be and was appointed what I call ‘chaplain’ with discretionary powers. The only visitors in the hospital (aside from friends during visiting hours) are the Lady Managers, each of whom has a month on duty, and Mr. Barnard, who comes to lead a short service and preach every Sunday afternoon. So, I thought the patients would appreciate some reading materials and such, and Dr. Sewall gave me permission to do whatever I wanted.... You can’t imagine how happy they all were, and how warmly they invited me to come back again, which I plan to do quite often.

A week later (Nov. 24th) she writes again:

A week later (Nov. 24th), she writes again:

“At present I am so exceedingly content in my quaint pleasant quarters in the midst of so new a working world, that I hardly feel the need of anything beyond; and I do greatly want quiet and rest to ‘recuperate’ as the new word goes. I can’t tell you when I have found so much chance of rest of mind and quiet interest in things wholly unconnected with the old pain,—not for years, I am sure, and I have ready to hand just as much work as I feel able for, and yet no strain on me to do it if I am not able. I can’t tell you the pleasure it gives one simply to see Dr. Sewall in her hospital and especially among her poor patients. She is such a true Healer;—so infinitely compassionate and sympathetic, with blue eyes sometimes quite full of sorrow for the people’s pain, yet such strong firm hand and will to remedy even through pain. I say a dozen times a day,—‘Were I not a teacher, I would be a doctor’—if I could.

“Right now, I’m incredibly happy in my charming little space in this new working world that I hardly feel the need for anything else; all I really want is some quiet and rest to ‘recuperate,’ as the new term goes. I can’t remember the last time I had such a chance to relax my mind and find interest in things completely unrelated to old pains—not for years, I’m sure. I have just as much work as I feel capable of, yet there’s no pressure to do it if I can’t. I can’t express how joyful it is to see Dr. Sewall in her hospital, especially with her patients. She is such a true Healer; so endlessly compassionate and empathetic, with blue eyes often full of sorrow for the pain of others, yet with a strong hand and will to help even through pain. I find myself saying every day, ‘If I weren’t a teacher, I’d be a doctor’—if I could.”

(Nov. 27th.) This hospital life is simply charming. So busy, so simple, so quaint and so interesting! I am entering more and more fully into it daily, and finding more and more nooks which I can fill ... sometimes giving mechanical aid in operations where they want an extra hand, etc.

(Nov. 27th.) This hospital life is just delightful. It's so busy, so straightforward, so unique, and so engaging! I'm getting more and more immersed in it every day and discovering more little corners where I can contribute... sometimes assisting in procedures when they need an extra pair of hands, etc.

Darling, one very unexpected result is coming out of this new life which I embraced simply for its rest and comfort,—I find myself getting desperately in love with medicine as a science and as an art, to an extent I could not have believed possible. I always associated so much that is repulsive and nasty with it in my mind, but I find that one really loses all sense of that in close contact,—that the beauty of nature’s arrangements and of art’s contrivances absorb one’s mind from everything less pleasant, and I find myself saying to myself a dozen times a day that, did I not feel my life devoted to another object, I would be a doctor straightway. As it is, I mean to use all the time I have in gaining all I can, by observation (for which one so rarely has such a chance) even more than by study, though I find myself devouring all sorts of medical works too, and 174am quite amazed to find how far even in this little time I am able to understand to a certain extent all sorts of things going on around me, and how very interesting they all become in the new light.... Of course one has access to an enormous medical library here, and the junior doctors are all as ready to help or show me all I want as possible. I in my turn do all I can to take extra work which I can do off their hands. Today the hospital note-book was handed over to me, and I went round with the physicians taking down directions for food, medicines, etc., and then making up the latter and taking them to the wards: all of which was very little for me to do, and very interesting, but a great deal saved for the over-worked junior doctor of the wards. I am really a great deal stronger and healthier than I have been for a long time.”

Darling, one very unexpected outcome from this new life I've embraced for its rest and comfort is that I've found myself falling head over heels in love with medicine as both a science and an art, more than I ever thought possible. I used to associate it with so many unpleasant and nasty things, but I've realized that you really lose all that negativity when you get close— the beauty of nature's design and the cleverness of art capture your mind, making everything less pleasant fade away. I find myself thinking a dozen times a day that if I didn’t feel my life was dedicated to something else, I would become a doctor right away. As it stands, I plan to use all the time I have to learn as much as I can through observation (which is a rare opportunity) even more than through study, although I’m also eagerly consuming all sorts of medical texts, and I’m quite amazed by how much I can understand about the various things happening around me in such a short time. Everything becomes really fascinating in this new perspective. Of course, there’s an enormous medical library here, and the junior doctors are always eager to help or show me everything I need. In return, I do whatever extra work I can to lessen their load. Today, I was given the hospital notebook, and I accompanied the physicians taking notes on food, medications, etc., then preparing the latter and delivering them to the wards. It was a small task for me, but really interesting and a significant help for the overworked junior doctor in the wards. I truly feel a lot stronger and healthier than I have in a long time.

“Nov. 27th. We get up at 6.30 a.m.,—breakfast at 7, then go round the wards with the doctors, then I make up the hospital medicines and see what drugs need to be ordered into the dispensary. The Dispensary opens at 9, or two days in the week at 10, and on Mondays and Thursdays (Dr. Sewall’s days) I am there all the morning, making up prescriptions as fast as she writes them (two of us generally have our hands full, but sometimes I am alone), and very often we have not got through our work when the dinner-bell rings at 1 p.m. Dr. Sewall always has an enormous number of patients—from 60 to 70, and if I go down into the Dispensary waiting-room I get seized on so eagerly,—‘Is Dr. Sewall here herself?’ as she is occasionally obliged to be absent part of the time.

“Nov. 27th. We wake up at 6:30 a.m., have breakfast at 7, then round the wards with the doctors. After that, I prepare the hospital medications and check what drugs need to be ordered for the dispensary. The Dispensary opens at 9, or at 10 on two days of the week, and on Mondays and Thursdays (Dr. Sewall’s days) I’m there all morning, filling prescriptions as fast as she writes them (generally, two of us are busy, but sometimes I’m alone), and very often we haven’t finished our work by the time the dinner bell rings at 1 p.m. Dr. Sewall always has a huge number of patients—from 60 to 70, and if I go down to the Dispensary waiting room, I get asked so eagerly, ‘Is Dr. Sewall here herself?’ since she sometimes has to be absent for part of the time.”

I think anyone who passed a couple of mornings in this dispensary would go away pretty well convinced of the enormous advantage of women doctors; and one sees daily how the poor women feel it by the crowds that come on the four days in the week when the lady physicians are in charge, and the handful that comes on the two days when a man presides.... They say that they have cases again and again of long-standing diseases which the women have borne rather than go to a man with their troubles,—and I don’t wonder at it.”

I believe that anyone who spends a few mornings in this clinic would leave convinced of the huge benefits of having women doctors. You can see how much the women appreciate it by the large crowds that show up on the four days a week when the female doctors are in charge, compared to the small number that comes in on the two days when a man is in charge. They often mention cases of long-term illnesses that these women have dealt with rather than going to a man to discuss their issues—and I can understand why.

15th.15th.I have just begun to have a little Sunday service in the wards where there was none before. Dr. Sewall is very good in letting me make such plans if I like, and comes herself to the service. Of course we have a very mixed multitude, but I think we manage to worship our ‘Father in Heaven’ and look forward to the ‘One fold’ some day, when neither ‘Jerusalem nor this mountain’ shall be the vital thing.”

15th.15th.I’ve just started holding a little Sunday service in the wards where there wasn’t one before. Dr. Sewall is really supportive of me making these plans if I want to, and she even comes to the service herself. Of course, we have a very diverse crowd, but I think we manage to worship our ‘Father in Heaven’ and look forward to the ‘One fold’ someday, when neither ‘Jerusalem nor this mountain’ will be the key thing.

“(Dec. 19th.) My chaplain’s work has rather fallen into abeyance now from the crush of other things,—the only thing I do regularly being the Sunday service, writing a weekly sermon for which, by the 175bye, is not to be omitted in one’s list of work. It’s all but impossible to find any printed ones one could read,—one needs to be so absolutely non-doctrinal and non-combative; and besides the doctors and people will come to hear mine when they’d think twice about anything else.

“(Dec. 19th.) My chaplain duties have sort of taken a backseat now with everything else going on—the only thing I manage to do regularly is the Sunday service, writing a weekly sermon, which, by the way, shouldn’t be overlooked in one’s list of tasks. It’s nearly impossible to find any printed ones that would be suitable—all of them need to be totally non-doctrinal and non-confrontational; plus, the doctors and people are more likely to come to hear mine than consider anything else.”

The young surgeon I told you about has a splendid voice, and last Sunday she brought a sort of large accordion and played all our hymn tunes, so we are getting quite grand. Wouldn’t you like, darling, to peep in at us and see all our busy doings?—I wish you could.”

The young surgeon I mentioned has an amazing voice, and last Sunday she brought this big accordion and played all our hymn tunes, so we’re really getting fancy. Wouldn’t you like, darling, to sneak a peek at us and see all the stuff we’re up to?—I wish you could.”

To say that the young doctors who came to her services were frankly critical of her and her beliefs is an understatement of the facts. Some of their remarks have survived,—clever and flippant for the most part; but the following letter from an intimate friend, whom she had persuaded to accompany her to church, is worth quoting:

To say that the young doctors who came to her services were openly critical of her and her beliefs is putting it mildly. Some of their comments have stuck around—mostly witty and dismissive; but the following letter from a close friend, whom she had convinced to come to church with her, is worth sharing:

“Sunday evening, 11 o’clock.

My dear Baby, I cannot sleep for thinking of the rude speeches I made to you this evening. I am so sorry that I said them, but at the same time I could not help it,—the whole service and the going to church of most all the people there was such a farce that it roused the devil in my nature.

My dear Baby, I can’t sleep because I keep thinking about the rude things I said to you tonight. I'm really sorry I said them, but at the same time, I couldn’t help it—the whole service and the way most of the people there went to church felt like such a joke that it brought out the worst in me.

Besides all this, my Baby answered me so sweetly and truly that it did me good to make her talk, and raised my faith in human goodness which was getting almost extinguished by that man’s sermon. If I ever get into such a disagreeable mood again, and say ugly things to tease you, you must give me a good moral box on the ear so as to bring me to my senses.

Besides all this, my Baby answered me so sweetly and genuinely that it warmed my heart to hear her talk, and it boosted my faith in human goodness which was nearly snuffed out by that man's sermon. If I ever get into such a bad mood again and say mean things to annoy you, you must give me a good moral smack to bring me back to my senses.

I do not believe that going to church is good for me.

I don't think going to church is good for me.

Don’t think me foolish for writing this, and don’t let anything I said today trouble you, but be as good to me as you have been.”

Don’t think I’m silly for saying this, and don’t let anything I mentioned today bother you, but please be as kind to me as you’ve always been.

In the midst of all this busy life, S. J.-B. never forgot the family festivals at home, the birthdays of parents and friends, the date when such an one was to be married, or another to sail for India. This was a striking gift, more of the heart than of the head, that she retained throughout life. “I was thinking in bed this morning of the faithful few who would remember my poor old birthday,” wrote her childhood’s schoolmistress, Miss Teed, at this time, “And a little bird whispered, ‘You will get a letter from Sophy.’”

In the midst of all this busy life, S. J.-B. never forgot the family celebrations at home, the birthdays of her parents and friends, the date when one was getting married, or another was leaving for India. This was a remarkable trait, more from the heart than the mind, that she held onto throughout her life. “I was thinking in bed this morning about the loyal few who would remember my poor old birthday,” wrote her childhood schoolteacher, Miss Teed, around this time, “And a little bird whispered, ‘You will get a letter from Sophy.’”

176Not that she ever felt bound to say the thing that was expected of her.

176Not that she ever felt obligated to say what was expected of her.

“I suppose you don’t expect me to say much about Uncle’s death, darling,” she writes to her Mother. “It cannot seem to me sad for anyone concerned. I do not think he would have learned much more here; doubtless he will hereafter.”

“I guess you don't expect me to say much about Uncle’s death, darling,” she writes to her mom. “It doesn’t seem sad to me for anyone involved. I don't think he would have learned much more here; surely he will later on.”

Three weeks before the anniversary of her parents’ wedding, she writes to her sister:

Three weeks before the anniversary of their parents' wedding, she writes to her sister:

“Dear old Charlie,—Please keep the enclosed very secret till the morning of May 12th.

“Dear Charlie,—Please keep the enclosed strictly confidential until the morning of May 12th."

Get a grand plant of some sort—full of blossom, geranium or fuchsia or something,—any price up to 5s.—and put the letter in its leaves on Mother’s plate at breakfast. Mind you get a glorious plant....

Get a beautiful plant of some kind—like a blooming geranium or fuchsia or something—any price up to 5s.—and place the letter in its leaves on Mom’s plate at breakfast. Make sure you choose an amazing plant....

Your aff. sis.,

S. L. J.-B.”

From a letter written to her Mother at Christmas 1865 one realizes what a child she was still:

From a letter written to her mom at Christmas 1865, you can see how much of a child she still was:

“Our rooms did get so prettily decorated,—Dr. Sewall is clever that way,—and I took holly round to all the wards that everybody might have some bits to look at. We had quite a rush of babies just then—four born on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.—When we were going round the wards on Christmas Day Dr. Sewall ordered of course ‘light diet’ for the new Mothers,—so I said laughingly to console them, ‘Well, I guessed the babies were worth losing a dinner for, weren’t they?’ ‘Humph!’ says one of the Mothers, ‘a good dinner’s worth more to poor folks!’

“Our rooms were decorated so nicely—Dr. Sewall is really good at that—and I took holly around to all the wards so everyone could have something festive to look at. We had a surge of babies right then—four born on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. While we were going around the wards on Christmas Day, Dr. Sewall, of course, ordered a 'light diet' for the new mothers, so I jokingly said to cheer them up, 'Well, I guess the babies are worth missing a meal for, right?' 'Humph!' said one of the mothers, 'A good meal means a lot more to folks like us!'”

To tell the truth I was too much taken aback to reflect what a sensible woman she was!—What would you have said, dear?

To be honest, I was so surprised that I didn't even think about how sensible she was!—What would you have said, dear?

Darling, I come more and more to the conclusion that anyone who wishes to preserve intact all romantic ideas about ‘Mother’s love,’ etc., had better not live in a Lying-in Hospital. It’s a grand and blessed thing when it does come, but that isn’t always. We had two of the babies born here found deserted in the streets a few days ago,—the day after their mothers were discharged.”

Darling, I'm increasingly convinced that anyone who wants to hold onto romantic notions of ‘Mother’s love,’ etc., should probably avoid living in a maternity hospital. It's an amazing and wonderful thing when it happens, but that’s not always the case. We had two babies born here who were found abandoned in the streets a few days ago—the day after their mothers were discharged.

On March 4th, 1866, she writes to her Mother:

On March 4, 1866, she writes to her mom:

“I have given up my Sunday service, or at least have resigned it into the hands of a minister who already had a service in the medical wards. I found it very hard to find time to prepare properly for it, and sometimes it tried my nerves very much, and besides it got to be a great weight upon me in the way of responsibility and absolute 177honesty in what I said. Things seem so very un-clear to my own mind that it rather weighs upon me and worries me to be trying to say much about them to others. Perhaps this state may just pass away again, but in the meantime I like best to ‘be true to every honest thought’ and, till I’m sure, to be silent.

“I’ve given up my Sunday service, or at least handed it over to a minister who already had a service in the medical wards. I found it really hard to find time to prepare for it properly, and sometimes it stressed me out a lot. Plus, it became a heavy burden regarding the responsibility and complete honesty in what I said. Things feel so unclear to me that it really weighs on me and makes me anxious to try to say much about them to others. Maybe this feeling will pass eventually, but for now, I prefer to ‘be true to every honest thought’ and, until I’m sure, to stay silent. 177”

Much love to Daddy and Carry, and such a lot of kisses for my darling.

Much love to Dad and Carry, and so many kisses for my sweetheart.

Yours lovingly,

Soph.”

To understand the inner history of this change one must revert to the diary,—the most intimate friend of all—and this takes us back for a moment to the time of her arrival in America.

To grasp the deeper story behind this change, we must look back at the diary—the closest companion of all—and this brings us momentarily to the time she arrived in America.

“June 18th. How thoughts and plans and possibilities rush upon me! The opening of the bar to women here,—Mr. Sewall’s wish for a female pupil. ‘Ah,’ as I said to L.E.S. last night, ‘if I had been an American, I believe I should not have doubted to be a lawyer.’ She thinks one should be, if one has the powers and will.

“June 18th. So many thoughts, plans, and possibilities are rushing in! The opening of the bar to women here—Mr. Sewall’s desire for a female student. ‘Ah,’ as I told L.E.S. last night, ‘if I had been American, I don’t think I would have hesitated to become a lawyer.’ She believes one should pursue it if they have the talent and determination.”

Yes, but is the ‘dedication’ and vocation of years nothing? Have I believed rightly or wrongly that God meant me to do something for teaching,—and that in England,—to the almost certain exclusion of all other life-work? Rightly, I think.

Yes, but is the ‘dedication’ and calling of years insignificant? Have I believed correctly or incorrectly that God intended for me to pursue teaching—in England—likely excluding all other career paths? I believe it’s correct.

Then, again, the ministry. What seems to draw me so irresistibly that way? Is it pride or wish of note, or is it vocation? Is it partly Dr. Arnold’s belief that Headmaster ought also to be chaplain?...

Then again, the ministry. What pulls me so strongly in that direction? Is it pride or a desire for recognition, or is it my calling? Is it partly Dr. Arnold’s belief that the Headmaster should also be a chaplain?

One seems at crossways,—‘the tide’ perhaps. Well, look,—and surely the kindly Light will lead.”

One feels like they're at a crossroads—maybe it's "the tide." Well, take a look—and surely the friendly Light will show the way.

Anyone who had gone through all S.J.-B.’s papers up to this date with an open mind would have said that the choice really lay between teaching and preaching. All her life she had been more interested in religious subjects than in any others, and her gifts of exposition and of public speaking were far above the average in either sex. In later years, when she was addressing thousands of people, she could make all hear without seeming to raise her voice; it remained full, mellow, easy, perfectly controlled, just as when she sat at the head of her own dinner-table. She might have spent some considerable part of the day in “wishing somebody would shoot her,” but no one would have guessed it when the moment came. “My mind is perfectly at ease when she rises to speak,” 178said one of her patients in Edinburgh, many years later, “one feels then that humanly speaking nothing can go wrong.” As a matter of fact it was when she was addressing a large audience that she looked most radiantly happy.

Anyone who had gone through all of S.J.-B.'s papers up to this point with an open mind would say that the choice really came down to teaching or preaching. She had always been more interested in religious topics than anything else, and her skills in explaining things and public speaking were well above average for anyone. Later in her life, when she spoke to thousands of people, she could project her voice so everyone could hear without seeming to raise it; it remained rich, warm, easy, and perfectly controlled, just like when she sat at the head of her own dinner table. She might have spent a good part of the day “wishing somebody would shoot her,” but no one would have guessed it when the moment came. “My mind is completely at ease when she gets up to speak,” said one of her patients in Edinburgh, many years later, “one feels then that, humanly speaking, nothing can go wrong.” The truth is, when she was addressing a large audience, she looked the happiest.

In many ways, then, she would have made a good minister; we know that she wrote a number of sermons that were appreciated by her colleagues, and she went so far as to preach at Weymouth (Mass.) for the Rev. Olympia Brown. “On seeing Him who is invisible” was the subject she chose, and, judged by ordinary standards, the sermon seems to have been a success.

In many ways, she would have made a great minister; we know that she wrote several sermons that her colleagues appreciated, and she even preached at Weymouth (Mass.) for Rev. Olympia Brown. “On Seeing Him Who Is Invisible” was the topic she picked, and, based on typical standards, the sermon appears to have been a success.

The main reason why she did not follow it up was (as indicated in the last-quoted letter to her Mother) the change that took place in her religious views after she had lived some time in America. In England she had been considered an advanced thinker on religious subjects: in America—the America in which her lot happened to be thrown—she was amazingly orthodox and conservative. For the first time she found herself among people who really did not care about religion as she understood it.

The main reason she didn't pursue it further was (as mentioned in the last letter she wrote to her mother) the shift in her religious beliefs after spending some time in America. In England, she was seen as a progressive thinker on religious issues; in America—the America where she ended up—she was surprisingly orthodox and conservative. For the first time, she found herself surrounded by people who really did not care about religion the way she understood it.

“July 2nd. Very nice these people are,” she writes in her diary, “and very nice Mrs. Rogers’ deep clear interest about the poor and wicked,—refuges, etc.

“July 2nd. These people are really nice,” she writes in her diary, “and Mrs. Rogers’ genuine concern for the poor and troubled—like shelters and such.”

Yet is there not in them the sort of un-religiousness which half jars on one in Unitarians? I wonder why. I hope I shan’t get into it. ‘More of reverence in us dwell.’ Yet so difficult in throwing off old bonds of sentiment not to lose something of the real feeling,—and, as Miss Cobbe says, if our religion is not a synthesis of all the good and beauty we know, we are less, not more, by rejecting errors.”

Yet isn’t there in them a kind of irreverence that feels off in Unitarians? I wonder why. I hope I won’t fall into that. “More of reverence should live in us.” But it’s so hard to let go of old emotional ties without losing some of the genuine feeling—and, as Miss Cobbe says, if our religion isn’t a blend of all the good and beautiful things we know, we diminish ourselves, not grow, by rejecting errors.

And again:

And once more:

“A new psychical study in the shape of Mrs. F., who ‘can believe in Providence but not in God,’ and who ‘means to say that there is absolute right and wrong, but not good and bad people. People were born with certain notions and acted accordingly; they did the best they could and could do no more.’

“A new psychological exploration featuring Mrs. F., who ‘can believe in a higher power but not in God,’ and who ‘means to say that there is absolute right and wrong, but not good and bad people. People are born with certain beliefs and act accordingly; they do the best they can and can do no more.’”

Mr. F. allowing and accepting the consequence that men differed no more from brutes than by finer organization, no more than the elephant from the fish! It is really good to contrast opposite extremes of thought,—it gives one a certain sense of stability and 179reality to have to defend one’s castle on both sides, and so to feel sure that it is one’s own at least....

Mr. F. acknowledges and accepts the idea that men differ from animals only in their more complex organization, just like the elephant differs from the fish! It’s truly beneficial to compare extreme viewpoints—it provides a sense of stability and reality to have to defend one’s position on both sides, and thus feel confident that it truly belongs to you at least.... 179

Talking of struggle as the only root of good, I quoted ‘perfect through suffering,’ and spoke of my belief in Christ’s struggle in those 30 years as the only possible root of his accordance of will with God’s.

Talking about struggle as the only source of goodness, I quoted ‘perfect through suffering,’ and shared my belief that Christ’s struggle during those 30 years was the only true basis for his alignment of will with God’s.

July 16th. Curious how the things most living to me are just simple absurdities to another. Talking of tombstones, Mrs. H. doesn’t like them, as preventing the dead rising—in idea. Mrs. F.—‘Well, you don’t expect them to, do you?’ (as a sort of reductio ad absurdum). ‘Certainly I do: the Bible says so.’ ‘Oh—aw—ah!’ with such a face,—‘if I thought so, I’d take to Banting at once.’”

July 16th. It's funny how what seems so meaningful to me can be just silly nonsense to someone else. Speaking of gravestones, Mrs. H. doesn’t like them because she thinks they stop the dead from rising—in theory. Mrs. F.—“Well, you don’t actually expect them to, do you?” (as a sort of reduction to absurdity). “Of course I do: the Bible says so.” “Oh—um—wow!” with that kind of face,—“if I believed that, I’d start dieting right away.”

Curious how none of them seem to have seen that the frivolous remark involved a great principle!

Curious how none of them seem to realize that the silly comment actually involved an important principle!

There were many stories and jokes on biblical themes, and—though S. J.-B. even at this time was a touchstone in the matter of jokes, never allowing one to pass which was not funny enough or clever enough to justify its breadth or its seeming irreverence—her sense of humour was keen.

There were lots of stories and jokes based on biblical themes, and—while S. J.-B. was already a standard for humor at that time, never letting a joke through that wasn’t funny or clever enough to make its length or apparent irreverence worthwhile—she had a sharp sense of humor.

“Suggestion to read the prayer for fair weather,—‘Lor, sir,—not a bit of good with the wind in this quarter.’”

“Suggestion to read the prayer for fair weather,—‘Lord, sir,—not a bit of good with the wind coming from this direction.’”

But she was constantly reverting to the old religious intensity:

But she kept going back to the old religious intensity:

“How reading of any spiritual conflict—even such an ‘ébauche’ as in Agnes of Sorrento—rouses one’s whole nature in a sort of enthusiasm of longing and half prophecy!...

“How reading about any spiritual struggle—even one as rough as in Agnes of Sorrento—awakens your entire being in a kind of excited longing and a hint of prophecy!...

Sometimes I feel such intense sympathy and pity for Christ because of his very deification. That after spending his whole life to learn and tell men about his Father, he should find them, after his death, trying to set him up himself to obscure that Father,—making God a foil to Christ!”

Sometimes I feel such deep sympathy and pity for Christ because of his very divinity. After spending his whole life learning about and telling people about his Father, he finds them, after his death, trying to elevate him to overshadow that Father—making God a contrast to Christ!

With that extraordinary frankness that does such credit to both, she writes to her Mother at this time,—“I was thinking the other day how curious it was that I really never read one Unitarian book till I was altogether Unitarian,^[38]—never one but the Bible at least, if that counts.”

With that remarkable honesty that reflects well on both of them, she writes to her mother at this time, “I was thinking the other day how strange it was that I never really read a Unitarian book until I became completely Unitarian,^[38]—never one except for the Bible at least, if that counts.”

“It is strange,” says someone, “that, in all our talk of the 180evolution of the individual, we fail to recognize the evolution of the medium.” S. J.-B. seems to have thought—as so many earnest spirits thought in those days—that she stood practically alone. “It has so been,” she says in the same letter to her Mother, “(I can’t say chanced) that I have had next to no human sympathy or help on my way. I do not remember that anyone but Mrs. Ballantyne has given me much of either in this one strife, and before I knew her the worst was over.”

“It’s weird,” says someone, “that, in all our discussions about the evolution of the individual, we overlook the evolution of the medium.” S. J.-B. seemed to think—as many passionate individuals did at that time—that she was almost alone. “It has just happened,” she writes in the same letter to her mother, “(I can’t say chanced) that I’ve received nearly no human support or help along my way. I don’t recall anyone but Mrs. Ballantyne giving me much of either in this struggle, and by the time I met her, the worst was already behind me.”

One must bear this in mind in reading the passage that follows:

One should keep this in mind when reading the passage that follows:

“To realize more and more that my life will be one—for years if not to the end—of struggle and perhaps obloquy, certainly outcasting from the synagogue,—struggle theological and social: and will it even succeed at last? Yes, surely,—inasmuch as Robertson says how to fall in the gap is success,—to be one of the conquering army, if not of the conquerors.”conquerors.”

“To increasingly realize that my life will be one—for years, if not until the very end—of struggle and perhaps shame, definitely being excluded from the community,—the struggle being both theological and social: and will it ultimately succeed? Yes, surely,—as Robertson says, falling into the gap is a form of success,—to be part of the conquering army, if not of the conquerors.conquerors.”

The next entry in the diary is the quotation of a flippant joke about the Californians who “when they go to a certain warm abode have yet to send back for their blankets.”

The next entry in the diary is a quote of a casual joke about Californians who “when they go to a certain warm place still have to send back for their blankets.”

“July 30th. A very interesting talk with the Fs. ... trying hard to show Mrs. F., who longs so to believe in a loving God, ‘Thou wouldst not seek me, hadst thou not found me,’—and that to long is almost to believe. Also to show her that Christ’s Christianity is a strong true manly thing,—that what she deprecates is the letter not the spirit, and that her willingness to live, and yet fear to die, without Christianity is of the essence of Calvinism.

“July 30th. Had a really interesting conversation with the Fs. ... trying hard to show Mrs. F., who desperately wants to believe in a loving God, ‘You wouldn’t be looking for me if you hadn’t already found me,’—and that to desire is almost to believe. Also to show her that Christ’s teachings are solid and genuinely powerful,—that what she criticizes is the letter, not the spirit, and that her desire to live, yet fear of dying, without Christianity is at the core of Calvinism.”

With him, still more interesting, (except that one pities and longs to help her) about origin of evil, free will, etc. I arguing that God could not give men the possibility of virtue without the possibility of evil,—he arguing a higher state where evil not possible. I say—then you exclude the idea of goodness from God.

With him, it's even more interesting (though you can't help but feel sorry for her and want to help) to talk about the origins of evil, free will, and so on. I argued that God could not grant people the ability to be virtuous without also allowing for the possibility of evil—he argued for a higher state where evil isn't possible. I said—then you eliminate the concept of goodness from God.

With some effort cleared ideas so far as to detect the ‘undistributed middle term,’ to distinguish between the possibility of evil and the wish toward evil. Saying that the very truth we prized in Unitarianism was that it said ‘Christ, if God, was no example’ and that Christ’s very goodness consisted in that he had the possibility of evil and no wish for evil.

With some effort, we clarified the concepts enough to identify the 'undistributed middle term,' making a distinction between the potential for evil and the desire for evil. We argued that the truth we valued in Unitarianism was that it claimed 'Christ, if God, was not an example,' and that Christ's goodness lay in his ability to choose evil without having any desire for it.

Illustrating with May forbidden sugar, in a room with and without it. In one case unable to disobey, in the other restrained from the wish to disobey.

181The two, confused in one, being absolute opposites.

181The two, mixed together, are complete opposites.

Is this all part of my training ‘for the ministry’? Please God. One does so gain a clearness never, one trusts, to be lost.

Is this all part of my training for the ministry? Please, God. You gain a clarity that, hopefully, will never be lost.

He asked me tonight if I did not find I had a clearness of thought and language very rare; and she said I was the first person who had made her feel the intense reality of the invisible and long after it. Please God, a prophecy.

He asked me tonight if I didn’t think I had a clarity of thought and expression that’s really uncommon; and she said I was the first person who made her truly feel the intense reality of the invisible, even long after the moment. Please God, let it be a prophecy.

I said I had won through infinite struggle—almost ‘to blood’—a certainty to which the visibility of the outer was nothing. And, please God, it is deeply true.”

I said I had achieved this after countless struggles—almost to the point of “blood”—a certainty that the outer world didn’t matter at all. And, if God wills it, that is profoundly true.

Ah me, Prometheus! The audacity of us small mortals all!

Ah me, Prometheus! The boldness of us mere mortals!

But the words that follow are indeed ‘a prophecy.’

But the words that come next are definitely 'a prophecy.'

“I have such a conviction of infinite struggle and contest in the future,—yet please God, of earnest, on-pressing struggle, and in the end, victory and Rest....

“I have such a strong belief in endless struggle and conflict ahead,—yet please God, of serious, ongoing struggle, and in the end, victory and peace....

Oh, dear, the ‘religious’ people and their effects!—very nearly making L. E. S. hate the name. So far from all good being ‘in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ’ or rather in God’s, there is actually room for the reverse to be said;—not wholly truly, I trust though. But she said, ‘If I want help for those poor things in or out of hospital, I never go near the pious people. I have and I know them. Go to atheists, and you are never refused.’

Oh, dear, those 'religious' people and their impact!—they almost make L. E. S. hate the name. Far from all good being ‘in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ’ or, more accurately, in God’s, there’s even a case to be made for the opposite;—not entirely true, I hope. But she said, ‘If I want help for those poor souls, whether in or out of the hospital, I never approach the pious people. I’ve dealt with them, and I know them. Go to atheists, and you’re never turned away.’

Oh, dear!”

Oh no!

Knowing the spiritual history of earnest souls in that generation, one is not surprised to come a couple of months later upon the entry:

Knowing the spiritual history of dedicated individuals in that generation, it's not surprising to come across the entry a couple of months later:

“I am wonderfully unsettled and uneasy somehow.... I do believe this terrible sort of logical doubt of Theism that enters in—not un-faith, but a failure of the abiding surety—an entrance of the admission how possibly reasonable Atheism may be—hurts horribly.

"I feel strangely unsettled and uneasy for some reason.... I really think this awful kind of logical doubt about Theism has come in—not a lack of faith, but a loss of continuous certainty—an acknowledgment of how possibly reasonable Atheism could be—really hurts."

And then isn’t the whole world void?

And isn't the whole world empty?

Oh for the ‘I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not‘!—and doubtless one has it,—both in ’Neither pray I for these alone,’ and also in those who live and love one, Mother and Octa....

Oh for the ‘I have prayed for you that your faith doesn’t fail’!—and surely one has it,—both in ‘Neither do I pray for these alone,’ and also in those who live and love one, Mother and Octa....

L.’s absence of sympathy weighs heavily. Hitherto all my friends have met me here,—she does not. ‘All the help she ever got, she got from herself and her will.’ Not from the Bible or hymns, etc. She calls herself a theist, but it seems to me to run close to practical atheism....”atheism....”

L.’s lack of sympathy really weighs on me. Up until now, all my friends have been here for me—she hasn’t. “All the help she ever received came from herself and her determination.” Not from the Bible or hymns, etc. She calls herself a theist, but it feels to me like it’s really close to practical atheism....”atheism....”

“Oct. 29th. She is so good! Told her something of today’s pain, she so sympathizing and good! Believed that the struggle 182was part of the sequence of early training and later reaction into ‘wider faith’—what many had to go through one time or another. I spoke of herself,—asked her what practical difference she would find if an atheist. ‘Not much generally,’ she thought, but in trouble she did pray. She couldn’t help it, and believed it was good, and when her friends died she was happier. ‘When she thought of it, she felt very sure about God, but very seldom did stop to think. She was sure her first duty was her work, etc. and then she had small time and sense left.

“Oct. 29th. She is so amazing! I told her about today’s pain, and she was so understanding and kind! She believed that the struggle was part of the process of early training and the later shift towards a 'broader faith'—something many have to experience at some point. I talked about her and asked what practical difference she would find if she were an atheist. ‘Not much usually,’ she said, but she did pray in times of trouble. She couldn’t help it and believed it was good, and when her friends passed away, she felt happier. ‘When she thought about it, she felt very certain about God, but she rarely took the time to think. She was certain her main responsibility was her work, etc., and then she had little time and energy left.

I said lives not continually lived as seeing Him who is invisible would be worth but little; she said Then her’s was so, and many others. So I retracted hastily. ‘At least mine would be.’

I said lives not constantly lived as if seeing Him who is invisible would be worth very little; she said then hers was like that, and many others. So I quickly took that back. ‘At least mine would be.’

Perhaps her’s is actually higher and more childlike. ‘He will care for my soul,’^[39] as it were.”

Perhaps hers is actually higher and more childlike. ‘He will care for my soul,’^[39] as it were.”

“Nov. 13th. Looking at p. 253, ‘the Ministry?’, I ask whether the sort of spiritual speechlessness—almost deadness—is not perhaps a merciful answer to that question. Clearly I can’t preach now.”

“Nov. 13th. Looking at p. 253, ‘the Ministry?’, I wonder if the kind of spiritual silence—almost lifelessness—might actually be a kind response to that question. Clearly, I can’t preach right now.”

“Nov. 24th. This temptation to medicine is pretty strong in some ways, both as to present study and future life.... But ‘not each on all’ come the claims,—this is surely already responded to, and will surely grow without me.

“Nov. 24th. This urge to study medicine is pretty strong in some ways, both for current studies and future life.... But not everyone feels the same way about it,—this is definitely already taken care of, and it will definitely continue to grow without me."

I feel as if my work would not [how little she knew!] as if, at least, it was given me to do and needed most of all my labour.

I feel like my work wouldn't [how little she knew!] as if, at least, it was meant for me to do and required the most effort from me.

So ’Traveller, hold thy cloak’!

So, Traveler, hold your cloak!

While it was identical with life interests and labour am I to claim ‘vocation,’ and then when others open, forsake it?

While it was the same as life interests and work, am I supposed to call it a 'vocation,' and then abandon it when others open up?

‘Shalt not excel.’”

"Shall not excel."

“Nov. 25th. I cannot but believe that if God enables me ... to do my work as I have believed and planned it, it will do wider, deeper good for England than the addition of one woman doctor can.^[40]

“Nov. 25th. I can't help but believe that if God helps me ... to do my work as I've envisioned and planned it, it will bring more significant and lasting benefits to England than just having one more woman doctor can.^[40]

183And then if I say,—‘Ah, but see how my theology will impede me!—well, would you have everyone give up working but those who hold the popular views?—is it not just those whose views have changed who need to work and justify them, and not hide light under a bushel at call of indolence or cowardice? You know that you believe in the horrible harm of leaving education to Calvinists, downtreading and hardening earth round the root,—that you believe in children being taught ‘the two commandments’ and no more,—and yet, because you would so teach them, you half shrink from the battle through which you must do it.

183And then if I say, “Ah, but look how my beliefs will hold me back!—well, do you want everyone to stop working except those who follow popular opinions?—isn’t it those whose views have evolved who need to work and prove their beliefs, rather than hide their light out of laziness or fear? You know that you believe it's incredibly damaging to let Calvinists control education, stifling and hardening the foundation like choking the roots of a plant,—that you believe children should be taught ‘the two commandments’ and nothing more,—and yet, because you want to teach them that way, you somewhat hesitate to engage in the struggle needed to make it happen.

L. E. S. says, ‘If you feel you can and wish to be a doctor, you ought.’ Ah, but I can do the other too. And if it is only selfish or worldly considerations that sway you to medicine—if it is the interest or the power or the success, mainly or wholly—if it is the difficulties present or future that make you half yearn to turn from the other—surely these are no reasons.

L. E. S. says, ‘If you feel you can and want to be a doctor, you should.’ Ah, but I can do the other too. And if it’s just selfish or material reasons that lead you to medicine—if it’s the money, the influence, or the status, mostly or entirely—if it’s the challenges now or later that make you want to avoid the other path—surely those aren’t good reasons.

Surely, having presented ourselves, our souls and bodies, a reasonable sacrifice, these things no longer enter in.”

Surely, having offered ourselves, our minds and bodies, as a reasonable sacrifice, these things no longer matter.

In view of all that was to follow, it is interesting that, in turning to Medicine, she should suspect herself of ‘half shrinking from the battle.’ Here is proof, if proof were needed, that while half of her enjoyed the fray, the other half had to be dragged, an unwilling captive, begging always to lie down and be at peace.

Given everything that happened next, it’s intriguing that, when she decided to pursue Medicine, she suspected she was “half shrinking from the battle.” This illustrates, if any proof was necessary, that while part of her thrived in the fight, the other part had to be forced forward, an unwilling captive, constantly pleading to rest and find peace.

“The Medicine fascinates me.... If I resume teaching, it will be grand to have an M.D. for head of College: if not, why Medicine is a ‘good work,’ and if I am led up to it, it may be mine after all.

"The Medicine fascinates me.... If I go back to teaching, it would be amazing to have an M.D. as the head of the college: if not, then I understand why Medicine is a ‘good work,’ and if I'm meant to pursue it, it might be mine after all."

But won’t E.G. be cross?”

But won’t E.G. be upset?”

Here are two pleasant little sidelights on the situation—from letters to her Mother:

Here are two interesting little insights on the situation—from letters to her mom:

“(Jan. 21st. 1866.) And, darling, do you know that the doctor has such a splendid temper, and is so infinitely gentle, that I really believe she is improving mine,—because I’m absolutely ashamed to be cross to anybody so good. Suppose I come home angelic, dear?”

“(Jan. 21st. 1866.) And, darling, do you know that the doctor has such a wonderful temperament and is so incredibly kind that I honestly believe she is making me a better person—because I feel completely embarrassed to be upset with someone so nice. What if I come home in a great mood, dear?”

Her best friends would have said there was no great cause for anxiety on that score.

Her close friends would have said there was no real reason to worry about that.

“(Feb. 6th.) Yes, dear, I mean to be a thoroughly good nurse for you at any rate, if ever you need me; as to ‘Doctor too,’ I can’t say. I should like to be enough of one at least to know how 184to save you some pain. I listen to and learn specially everything that I think can ever help my darling,—it would be grand to be of some use and comfort to her if she was ill.”

“(Feb. 6th.) Yes, dear, I intend to be a really good nurse for you if you ever need me; as for being a ‘Doctor too,’ I can't make any promises. I would like to know enough to save you some pain. I pay attention and learn everything I think could help my darling—it would be amazing to be of some use and comfort to her if she were sick.”

A few weeks later she wrote to Mrs. Unwin:

A few weeks later, she sent a letter to Mrs. Unwin:

“13 Pleasant Street, Boston.

March 3rd. 1866.

My dear Lucy,

My dear Lucy

I hope you are quite prepared to renew your invitation to me for next summer, for I’m beginning to think seriously of my visit home, and I want very much to see you! I say my ‘visit’ for I have been so well and strong since I came to America, and have found so much to interest me, that I think it very likely I may come back here after seeing all my home folks....

I hope you’re ready to invite me again for next summer because I'm really starting to think about my visit home, and I really want to see you! I say my 'visit' because I've been feeling great since I got to America, and I've found so much interesting stuff that I actually might come back here after I see everyone at home....

I am so glad to hear that you have got Alice with you, and expect to like her. She is a real friend of mine, and a very true and valuable one.... I only hope you will let her take as good care of you as she used to do of me....

I’m really happy to hear that you have Alice with you and I’m sure you’ll like her. She’s a true friend of mine and a really special one.... I just hope you’ll let her take as good care of you as she used to take care of me....

Whenever you feel energetic enough to enjoy a chat by pen and paper, I shall be very pleased to hear of your doings. Pray tell me all about the Baby—of course the most wonderful of his kind—and be sure, dear child, that I shall care very much to hear and know about everything that concerns you.

Whenever you feel up for a chat through letters, I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to. Please tell me all about the Baby—who is, of course, the most amazing of his kind—and make sure, dear child, that I’m very interested in hearing about everything that matters to you.

Please give the enclosed lines to A. I shall enjoin her to feed you up no end, and whenever we do meet, be sure I shall ask if you let yourself be taken proper and sensible care of. I believe in food and rest as just the best doctors in creation—with all my new medical lights!

Please give the enclosed lines to A. I'll tell her to make sure you eat well, and whenever we meet, I'll definitely ask if you're taking good care of yourself. I believe that food and rest are the best medicine—no matter what all the new medical knowledge says!

Goodbye, dear child. With every good wish for you in the New Year, I am,

Goodbye, dear child. Wishing you all the best in the New Year, I am,

Yours affectionately,

S. L. J.-B.”

All through this time her happy letters had been giving no small pleasure to the “old folks” at home.

All this time, her cheerful letters had been bringing a lot of joy to the “old folks” at home.

“Brighton. 18th Dec. 1865.

Dearest,

Dear,

Your welcome letter arrived a day or two before the 17th., but dear Mother kept it back till the morning. Thanks for all your good wishes. One thing you can always do,—pray for me,—and that, I trust, you will do daily. I have constant faith in prayer simply offered up to our heavenly Father through the one mediator between God and man. I believe it never fails.

Your welcome letter arrived a day or two before the 17th, but dear Mother held it back until the morning. Thanks for all your good wishes. One thing you can always do—pray for me—and I hope you will do that every day. I have unwavering faith in prayer simply offered up to our heavenly Father through the one mediator between God and man. I believe it never fails.

I am rejoiced you are so quiet at Boston, and have employment that interests you, but even that work will hurt you, remember, 185if you have too much of it. You want rest, dearest child, and only light agreeable work on your hands. I wish I could see Dr. Sewall, to give her a Father’s heartfelt thanks for all her loving kindness to you. She is indeed an invaluable friend. If I am to see her, she must come to Europe, for I shall never cross the Atlantic.... I am very glad you are so well, and your letters are so cheery that they are a great pleasure.

I'm so glad to hear you're quiet in Boston and have work that keeps you engaged, but remember, even that job can wear you out if you take on too much. You need some rest, my dear child, and only light, enjoyable tasks. I wish I could thank Dr. Sewall in person for all the kindness she shows you. She's truly a priceless friend. If I'm going to see her, she'll have to come to Europe because I won't be crossing the Atlantic.... I'm very happy you're doing so well, and your letters are so uplifting that they bring me a lot of joy.

We are all, thank God, fairly well, and are to have Tom and his wife, and four (I think) of the children here after Christmas. On Thursday last, at 2 a.m. their house was on fire, and till 2.30 a.m. he did not expect to save the house; and had there been a high wind, nothing could have saved it probably. Mercifully it was a still night and everything went well. Two engines were on the spot rapidly, in perfect order,—plenty of water close by, and the superintendent very active and intelligent. No crowd, and the entrances kept clear by respectable known men: and by three o’clock every spark was out.

We’re all doing pretty well, thank God, and we’re having Tom and his wife, along with four (I think) of the kids, here after Christmas. Last Thursday, at 2 a.m., their house caught fire, and until 2:30 a.m., he didn’t think he would be able to save it; if there had been a strong wind, it probably wouldn’t have been saved at all. Thankfully, it was a calm night and everything turned out fine. Two fire engines arrived quickly, in perfect condition—plenty of water nearby, and the superintendent was very active and smart. There was no crowd, and known respectable men kept the entrances clear; by three o'clock, every spark was out.

The children were sent off rapidly to the school-house, and all five (baby being put elsewhere) put in Miss Temple’s bed! Nobody has been hurt,—a few colds and that seems all. Our God be praised. How different it might have been!

The kids were quickly sent off to the schoolhouse, and all five (with the baby taken elsewhere) were put in Miss Temple’s bed! No one was hurt—just a few colds, and that’s about it. Thank God. It could have been so much worse!

Your affecte Father,

T. Jex-Blake.”

And the Mother writes:

And the Mom writes:

“Jan. 29th. 1866.... You were very good and very right not to attempt to enter yet as a student....

“Jan. 29th. 1866.... You were very kind and completely right not to try to start as a student just yet....

I had much rather know you well and happy there than see you ill and know you worried here. If they would only have the Cable, I think Boston no distance. I should certainly like the Cable,—but I don’t hear a word about it. Couldn’t you apply to Government?”

I would definitely prefer to know that you're doing well and happy there instead of seeing you sick and worrying about you here. If only they could manage the Cable, I don’t think Boston is too far away. I would really like the Cable, but I haven't heard anything about it. Couldn’t you reach out to the Government?

“Feb. 20th. I hope your medical education is progressing, and that you don’t addle your brains. I shall expect you to make something on the way home by your medical knowledge.”

“Feb. 20th. I hope your medical studies are going well and that you’re not overloading your brain. I expect you to apply what you’ve learned on your way home.”

“Mar. 5th. It is such a repose and joy to me to hear of your being occupied so usefully and happily, and feeling comparatively well, though I suspect sometimes my little one is a wee overdone.”

“Mar. 5th. It’s such a relief and joy for me to hear that you’re so busy and happy, and feeling relatively well, although I sometimes worry my little one is a bit overwhelmed.”

The medical study was more or less of a joke so far to her friends at home, and many are the enquiries as to when she means to return and go on with her life after this interesting digression.

The medical study has been more or less a joke to her friends back home, and they often ask when she plans to come back and get on with her life after this intriguing detour.

“I am very glad you find things and people pleasant in America,” writes Mrs. Unwin. “I hope they won’t be so nice that they will 186tempt you to stay there very long, for I shall be very glad when I can think of you again without that great sea between us. I do so want a long talk with you about no end of things. I don’t think I ever wanted you more than when I was ill.”

“I’m really glad you find things and people nice in America,” writes Mrs. Unwin. “I hope they won’t be so great that they’ll tempt you to stay there too long, because I will be so happy when I can think of you again without that huge ocean separating us. I really want to have a long talk with you about so many things. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more than when I was unwell.”

And Mr. Unwin expressed the view of many when he wrote:

And Mr. Unwin shared the sentiment of many when he wrote:

“If I told you of the estimate in which I hold the purpose to which you are devoting your life, you would suspect me of flattery, so I abstain; but, barring all that, your friends in England are in great need of you, and I think it is very horrid that you should leave them all, to whom you would be of infinite service, on God knows what outlandish errand. They all grudge you to Boston entirely, so pray be quick and come back.”

"If I shared how much I admire the purpose you're dedicating your life to, you'd probably think I'm just flattering you, so I won’t say it; but aside from that, your friends in England really need you, and I think it's terrible that you're leaving them for some unknown adventure. They all resent that you're off to Boston at all, so please hurry back."

Dr. Sewall, on the other hand, had become not a little dependent on her competent helper, and, although this friendship too was not without the “cataracts and breaks” to which S. J.-B. so often refers in her diary, there is no doubt that the older and gentler woman found it not only a pleasure but a great asset. “How I wish I had you here: I do so want your strength! So few people are strong,” is a sentiment that recurs in her letters many times from now to the end of her life.

Dr. Sewall, on the other hand, had become quite reliant on her capable assistant, and although this friendship, too, had its “cataracts and breaks” as S. J.-B. frequently notes in her diary, there's no doubt that the older, kinder woman found it not just enjoyable but a significant benefit. “How I wish I had you here: I really want your strength! So few people are strong,” is a feeling that appears in her letters many times from now until the end of her life.

So in June 1866, S. J.-B. returned to England to see her parents, and to talk over the whole question of her future career with them and with other friends.

So in June 1866, S. J.-B. went back to England to visit her parents and discuss her future career with them and some other friends.

“Most people are much more in favour of Medicine than I expected,” she writes, “except Miss Garrett, who thinks me not specially suited, and E. S. M., who thinks it indecent of unmarried women knowing all about these things.”

“Most people are way more supportive of Medicine than I expected,” she writes, “except for Miss Garrett, who thinks I’m not particularly suited for it, and E. S. M., who thinks it’s inappropriate for unmarried women to know about these things.”

“July 8th. Sunday. ‘Taller,’ say Laurence, Mother and self. ‘More firmly knit,’ say do. ‘Muscles like iron, as if rowing all morning and prize-fighting all afternoon,’ says Nigger.

“July 8th. Sunday. ‘Taller,’ say Laurence, Mother, and I. ‘More solidly built,’ they say. ‘Muscles like iron, as if I’ve been rowing all morning and boxing all afternoon,’ says Nigger.”

Well done America and L. E. S.!—bless her.”her.”

Almost at the same moment Dr. Sewall was writing:

Almost at the same moment, Dr. Sewall was writing:

“I really feel quite well satisfied with the increase in my practice, and if it continues to increase for the next two years as well, we shall be able to take a fine house and live in style. I cannot tell you how much pleasure I get out of anticipating our house-keeping. When I am too tired to do anything, I lay on the sofa and plan and plan and think what a good time we are going to have, and am as happy as a cricket.”

“I’m really feeling pretty satisfied with how my practice is growing, and if it keeps increasing like this for the next two years, we’ll be able to get a nice house and live comfortably. I can’t tell you how much joy I get from thinking about our future home life. When I’m too tired to do anything, I lie on the sofa and keep planning and dreaming about all the great times we’re going to have, and it makes me as happy as can be.”

187So America won the day, though not without many questionings.

187So America triumphed, but not without a lot of doubts.

“August 12th. Sunday. On Sunday last at Mrs. Hyde’s suggestion wrote to Macmillan. On Tuesday heard from him, and had a ‘book—not too short’ warmly accepted by him, at ‘no risks and half profits.’

“August 12th. Sunday. Last Sunday, I wrote to Macmillan at Mrs. Hyde's suggestion. On Tuesday, I heard back from him, and he warmly accepted a ‘book—not too short’ on a ‘no risks and half profits’ basis.”

So we gradually come to our wishes when we have ceased to look for them. I accept it almost as I did the preaching,—because I had so longed for it.

So we slowly come to our desires when we stop searching for them. I accept it almost as I did the preaching—because I had wanted it for so long.

This day three weeks on the Atlantic,—5 weeks, home to L. E. S., I trust. Study Medicine? ... or push on in literary career now opening apparently?

This day three weeks in the Atlantic,—5 weeks, home to L. E. S., I hope. Study Medicine? ... or continue with the literary career that's seemingly starting up now?

How about conflicting interests and powers hereafter? If my book—inter alia—brings me to notice of Commission,^[41] etc.,—cry off from my chance because too busy as a doctor?

How about conflicting interests and powers moving forward? If my book—among other things—brings me to the attention of the Commission,^[41] etc.,—will I lose my opportunity because I'm too busy as a doctor?

Ah, well,—long way off yet! Do the work ‘lies nearest thee’ and leave the rest!”

Ah, well—it's still a long way off! Just focus on what’s right in front of you and let the rest go!

188

CHAPTER XV
PIONEER WORK IN AMERICA

On September 1st, 1866, S. J.-B. sailed again for America. A warm welcome awaited her, and she speedily fell back into her niche at the Women’s Hospital. Her main interest for the first month or two was the writing of her book on A Visit to Some American Schools and Colleges, the manuscript of which was duly despatched to Macmillan in November. Based though it avowedly was on somewhat limited observations, and dealing with a transient stage of a great subject, the book was extraordinarily fair and clear, and was greeted with genuine respect by those who were qualified to form an opinion. What was equally important, it made really excellent reading. At the close of a four column review the Athenaeum said:

On September 1st, 1866, S. J.-B. set sail for America again. She received a warm welcome and quickly settled back into her role at the Women’s Hospital. For the first month or so, her main focus was writing her book titled A Visit to Some American Schools and Colleges, the manuscript of which was sent to Macmillan in November. Although it was based on somewhat limited observations and addressed a specific phase of a larger topic, the book was impressively fair and clear, earning genuine respect from those qualified to judge. Just as importantly, it was really enjoyable to read. At the end of a four-column review, the Athenaeum stated:

“An English teacher, whose special avocations enabled her to gain prompt attention from American instructors, and qualified her to detect the true worth and significance of the facts brought under her notice, Miss Jex-Blake has written a sensible and entertaining book upon an important subject; and, while we thank her for some valuable information, we venture to thank her also for the very agreeable manner in which she imparts it.”

“An English teacher, whose unique interests helped her quickly get noticed by American instructors, and who was able to recognize the real value and importance of the information presented to her, Miss Jex-Blake has written a thoughtful and enjoyable book on an important topic. While we appreciate the valuable information she provides, we also want to thank her for the pleasant way she shares it.”

“Redolent with common sense and practical suggestions,” said The Stationer.

“Full of common sense and practical suggestions,” said The Stationer.

How sane a view she took of the whole subject may be gathered from the quotations given in the appendix.^[42]

How reasonable her perspective was on the entire subject can be seen in the quotes included in the appendix.^[42]

Having happily despatched her book, she was free to give her whole mind to the subject of Medicine, and she seems

Having happily finished her book, she was free to focus completely on the subject of Medicine, and she seems

189now to have enrolled formally as a medical student. In any case we hear of her dissecting—when material could be got—and finding, in the stimulus this gave to her work, a new interest and fascination.

189 now to have officially registered as a medical student. In any case, we hear about her dissecting—whenever she could get the materials—and discovering that the excitement this brought to her work sparked a new interest and fascination.

Excellent work was done at that Women’s Hospital in Boston, as a number of our English women doctors have had reason to testify: sickness was relieved, and—what is quite as much to the point—competent and able doctors were turned out year by year. But of course the scholastic side of the work was on a very different level. Even for those days, the practical scientific education, and, above all, the sheer supply of material, were inadequate in the extreme. Then as now, of course, it was true that “la carrière ouverte aux talents,” and when women doctors were so rare there was little doubt that a competent woman would make her way. Certainly it was not the hallmark of a good University degree that helped her, for good Universities existed for the male sex only. Graduation in America to this day may mean a great deal or it may mean just nothing at all. It was not the fault of the woman doctor of that period if her “degree” was one that failed to inspire the enthusiasm of those that understood.

Great work was done at that Women's Hospital in Boston, as many of our English women doctors have noted: illnesses were treated, and—just as importantly—competent and skilled doctors graduated year after year. But, of course, the academic aspect of the work was on a much lower level. Even back then, the practical scientific education, and especially the sheer availability of resources, were extremely lacking. Just as it is today, it was true that “the pathway to success was open to talent,” and since women doctors were so rare, there was little doubt that a capable woman would find her way. Certainly, it wasn’t the quality of a University degree that helped her, since reputable Universities were available only for men. Graduation in America still can mean a lot or practically nothing at all. It wasn’t the fault of the woman doctor of that time if her “degree” didn’t inspire the enthusiasm of those who knew what they were looking at.

Now S. J.-B.’s entry on any new sphere in life could seldom be fitly described as the addition of a little more of the same stuff. For better or worse, she was apt to come somewhat as the yeast comes to the dough, and yet that metaphor, too, falls short, for the medium reacted upon her as intensely perhaps as she acted on the medium. In the present case she had drifted into medical work all uncritical and full of admiration ^[43]; but a visit to England brought her back as an outsider with her critical faculty fully awake. She saw that the need of adequate Graduation—urgent though it might be—was as nothing compared to the need of adequate 190Education. It was hard to make bricks without straw. In America women doctors had proved, against heavy odds, that women doctors were wanted. Why not give them a fair field? One heard on every side of the splendid advantages laid, so to speak, at the feet of men students at Harvard.

Now S. J.-B.’s involvement in any new area of life could rarely be accurately described as just adding a little more of the same. For better or worse, she tended to join in like yeast in dough, and even that metaphor doesn't quite capture it, because the environment influenced her just as much as she influenced it. In this case, she had entered the medical field with uncritical enthusiasm, full of admiration; however, a trip to England made her return as an outsider with her critical thinking fully engaged. She realized that the urgent need for adequate graduation was nothing compared to the need for adequate education. It was tough to make bricks without straw. In America, women doctors had shown, despite significant challenges, that there was a demand for women in medicine. So why not give them a fair chance? Everyone talked about the amazing opportunities available, so to speak, to male students at Harvard.

Why should not women be admitted to Harvard?

Why shouldn't women be allowed into Harvard?

Why not ask?

Why not just ask?

In April, 1867, the following correspondence was published in The Boston Daily Advertiser:

In April 1867, the following letters were published in The Boston Daily Advertiser:

“March 11th. 1867.

Gentlemen,

Guys,

Finding it impossible to obtain elsewhere in New England a thoroughly competent medical education, we hereby request permission to enter the Harvard Medical School on the same terms and under the same conditions as other students, there being, as we understand, no university statute to the contrary.

Finding it impossible to get a fully competent medical education anywhere else in New England, we hereby request permission to enroll in Harvard Medical School on the same terms and conditions as other students, as we understand there is no university rule against this.

On applying for tickets for the course, we were informed by the Dean of the Medical Faculty that he and his coadjutors were unable to grant them to us in consequence of some previous action taken by the corporation, to whom now therefore we make request to remove any such existing disability. In full faith in the words recently spoken with reference to the University of Harvard,—‘American colleges are not cloisters for the education of a few persons, but seats of learning whose hospitable doors should be always open to every seeker after knowledge’—we place our petition in your hands and subscribe ourselves,

Upon applying for tickets for the course, we were informed by the Dean of the Medical Faculty that he and his colleagues were unable to provide them due to a prior decision made by the corporation. We now request that the corporation lift any such restrictions. With complete faith in the recent statement regarding Harvard University—‘American colleges are not isolated places for the education of a few but centers of learning that should always welcome every seeker of knowledge’—we submit our petition to you and remain,

Your obedient servants,
Sophia Jex-Blake.
Susan Dimock.[44]

To the President and Fellows of the University of Harvard.”

To the President and Fellows of Harvard University.”

“Harvard University. April 8th. 1867.

My dear Madam,

Dear Madam,

After consultation with the faculty of the Medical College, the corporation direct me to inform you and Miss Dimock that there is no provision for the education of women in any department of this university.

After talking with the faculty of the Medical College, the corporation directs me to inform you and Miss Dimock that there is no program for the education of women in any department of this university.

Neither the corporation nor the faculty wish to express any opinion as to the right or expediency of the medical education of 191women, but simply to state the fact that in our school no provision for that purpose has been made, or is at present contemplated.

Neither the corporation nor the faculty want to take a stance on the appropriateness or necessity of medical education for women, but simply want to point out that our school does not currently offer any provisions for that purpose, nor are any being considered.

Very respectfully yours,

Thomas Hill.

Miss S. Jex-Blake.”

Miss S. Jex-Blake.

A few days later the following paragraph appeared in The Advocate:

A few days later, the following paragraph appeared in The Advocate:

“The Beginning of the End. A correspondence between the President and two lady applicants for admission to the Medical School was published some days since in the ‘Boston Advertiser.’ We understand that the friends of female education have no notion of resting satisfied with their first rebuff; and that prominent Alumni of Boston are already taking measures for the prolonged agitation of the question.”

The Beginning of the End. A letter exchange between the President and two women applying for admission to the Medical School was published a few days ago in the ‘Boston Advertiser.’ We understand that supporters of women’s education aren’t planning to give up after their initial setback, and that notable alumni from Boston are already taking steps to keep pushing for this issue.

A month later S.J.-B. had obtained introductions to each of the professors in the Medical Faculty at Harvard, and to each member of the staff of the Massachusetts General Hospital and of the Eye and Ear Infirmary: as well as to many people of standing connected with these various institutions: and she now proceeded to canvass them systematically. In addition to a number of influential friends, she was ably supported by Miss Dimock.

A month later, S.J.-B. had secured introductions to all the professors in the Medical Faculty at Harvard, as well as to every staff member at Massachusetts General Hospital and the Eye and Ear Infirmary. She also connected with several prominent individuals linked to these institutions, and now she began to reach out to them methodically. Along with several influential friends, she had strong support from Miss Dimock.

On the whole their reception was encouraging. The individual letters, indeed, are so favourable, that the hopes of the inexperienced young applicants must have run high. The following from Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes is typical of some half dozen at least:

On the whole, their reception was positive. The individual letters are so supportive that the hopes of the inexperienced young applicants must have soared. The following from Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes is typical of at least half a dozen others:

“I should not only be willing, but I should be much pleased, to lecture to any number of ladies for whom we can find accommodation in the anatomical lecture room, always provided that any special subject which seemed not adapted for an audience of both sexes should be delivered to the male students alone.”

“I wouldn’t just be willing; I’d actually be really happy to give a lecture to any number of women we can fit in the anatomy lecture room, as long as any specific topic that wouldn’t be suitable for a mixed audience is presented only to the male students.”

Dr. Brown-Séquard is even more emphatic in a letter to Dr. Holmes:

Dr. Brown-Séquard is even more forceful in a letter to Dr. Holmes:

“My dear Professor,

“Dear Professor,

Miss Blake, who will hand you this note, wishes me to say that I am strongly in favour of the admission of persons of her sex at the Medical College. As such is my decided opinion, I write very willingly.

Miss Blake, who will give you this note, wants me to say that I fully support admitting women to the Medical College. Since that's my firm belief, I'm happy to write this.

Very faithfully yours,

C. E. Brown-SéquardSéquard.”

192The corporation of Harvard, however, exerted its power to veto any such inclinations on the part of individual professors.

192However, Harvard's administration used its authority to block any such intentions from individual professors.

S. J.-B. quotes the above and a number of similar letters in the diary, and adds the comment:

S. J.-B. quotes the above and several similar letters in the diary, and adds the comment:

“All which ends in ... smoke!”

“All that ends in ... smoke!”

There were always flashes of humour to temper the various disappointments.

There were always moments of humor to balance out the various disappointments.

“Those wise men of Gotham at the Eye and Ear think it ‘the kindest and most gentlemanly thing’ to shut us out after all!”

“Those wise guys in Gotham at the Eye and Ear think it ‘the nicest and most gentlemanly thing’ to leave us out after all!”

“Dr.“Dr. A. ‘not afraid of responsibility, of course’—only—he’d rather not admit us till other people do”!

“Dr.”“Dr. A. ‘not scared of responsibility, of course’—only—he’d prefer to not let us in until others do”!

Here is the official letter from the wise men of Gotham:

Here is the official letter from the wise people of Gotham:

“Massachusetts Charitable Eye and Ear Infirmary.

June 18th, 1867.

Dear Madam,

Dear Ma'am,

The surgeons of this Infirmary are, at the same time, members of the Massachusetts Medical Society, and are bound to respect the opinion of its Councillors. And in view of the recent action of that Board, we are of opinion that we cannot continue to allow female students to attend our cliniques. Ungracious as is the task, we therefore feel compelled to ask you to suspend your visits.

The surgeons at this Infirmary are also members of the Massachusetts Medical Society and are required to respect the opinions of its Council members. Considering the recent actions of that Board, we believe we can no longer allow female students to attend our clinics. Although it is an unpleasant task, we feel we must ask you to stop your visits.

We have no hesitation in adding that our intercourse with yourself and companions has been throughout most pleasant to us personally.

We have no doubt in saying that our interactions with you and your friends have always been very enjoyable for us personally.

Very truly yours,
Hasket Derby,
for the Surgeons.

Miss Sophia Jex-Blake.”

Miss Sophia Jex-Blake.

A certain amount of clinical teaching in the Massachusetts General Hospital the women did obtain, and for this they were duly grateful, though it only made them feel more keenly the deficiencies of their lecture-room and laboratory training. And, even in hospital, they walked with a constant sense of insecurity, as one member of the staff was keenly opposed to the presence of women, and was on the look-out for causes of offence. Little by little S. J.-B. began to feel the wear and tear.

A certain amount of clinical teaching at Massachusetts General Hospital was provided to the women, and they were genuinely thankful for it, though it only highlighted the shortcomings of their classroom and lab training. Even in the hospital, they felt a constant sense of insecurity, as one staff member strongly opposed the presence of women and was always on the lookout for reasons to be offended. Gradually, S. J.-B. started to feel the strain.

“July 5th. Rest yesterday, but altogether weighed down yesterday and today with the fear and horror of this irritability which seems so fatally unconquerable,” she writes in her diary.

“July 5th. I rested yesterday, but I still feel overwhelmed today by the fear and dread of this irritability that seems impossible to overcome,” she writes in her diary.

And one knows how terrible an enemy that irritability was.

And everyone knows how awful an enemy that irritability can be.

193Fortunately, a few weeks later, she and Dr. Sewall got away together for a holiday; and this, apparently, was the first of the long series of driving-tours which were to prove the great joy and recreation of an arduous life.

193Luckily, a few weeks later, she and Dr. Sewall escaped for a vacation together; and this seemed to be the start of a long series of road trips that would bring great joy and relaxation to their demanding lives.

“Tuesday. July 30th. Atlantic House,

‘Town of Wells,’ Maine.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

As I have a spare hour, I may as well use it to chat a little to you about the oddities of our journey.

Since I've got an extra hour, I might as well take some time to talk to you about the strange things we've encountered on our journey.

I wrote to you from Newbury where we stayed one night at the Merrimac House,—having slept the previous night at the Agawam House, Ipswich (!)—both Indian names, of course. Yesterday we drove (as I told you at the end of my last letter) from Newbury port to Portsmouth, and were uncertain when I wrote whether to stay or go farther. It had been a hot day, but, after posting your letter, a violent rainstorm came up, deluging the streets for about 20 minutes about 5½ p.m.

I wrote to you from Newbury where we stayed one night at the Merrimac House,—having slept the previous night at the Agawam House, Ipswich (!)—both names are originally from Native American languages, of course. Yesterday we drove (as I mentioned at the end of my last letter) from Newburyport to Portsmouth, and I wasn't sure when I wrote whether we should stay or go further. It had been a hot day, but after I mailed your letter, a heavy rainstorm hit, flooding the streets for about 20 minutes around 5:30 p.m.

After it was over, everything looked so cool and clear that Dr. Sewall was anxious to get on, though I was a little afraid of the heavy roads. So we set out soon after six, and had a most delicious drive at first. By-and-bye, however, we came to terribly wet clay roads and could only go at a walk. Our horse got tired and it began to get dark, and we found that the distance to go was even longer than we had been told.

After it was over, everything looked so bright and clear that Dr. Sewall was eager to move on, though I was a bit nervous about the muddy roads. So we set out shortly after six, and had a really nice drive at first. Eventually, though, we hit some super muddy clay roads and could only go at a slow pace. Our horse got tired, it started getting dark, and we realized that the distance we had to cover was even longer than we had been told.

It’s hard for you to understand the sort of society in these country places,—no gentry and no peasantry—almost all small farmers doing their own work and owning house and land, with some education but no polish. We stopped at two or three houses, scattered at wide intervals,—and enquired for lodgings, but with no success till after dark when we got to a house belonging to a widow woman who informed us we could come in and have bed and food, but there was ‘no one in the house but her,—no one for the horse.’ However, I was perfectly ready to act groom, so in we drove to such a queer loose sort of yard, where I unharnessed by very uncertain lantern light, and then the doctor and I had a tremendous job getting our phaeton into a queer coach-house up a sort of hillock!

It’s hard for you to grasp the kind of society in these rural areas—no upper class and no lower class—mostly small farmers handling their own work and owning their homes and land, with some education but lacking refinement. We stopped at a couple of houses, spaced far apart, and asked about places to stay, but we had no luck until after dark, when we finally reached a house belonging to a widow who told us we could come in for food and a bed, but there was “no one in the house but her—no one for the horse.” Still, I was totally ready to take care of the horse, so we drove into a pretty unusual yard where I unharnessed in the dim light of a lantern, and then the doctor and I had a tough time getting our carriage into a strange little barn up a slight hill!

Then the lantern led on to the ‘barn,’ which (here as usual) meant also stable, and soon I found myself plunging in the dark through soft masses which proved to be long wet grass, leading my horse by the halter. Then up among big loose stones, and up a step more than 1½ foot high into a barn so low that my horse all but hit his head. Then over some boards set edgewise to divide off stalls ... the good woman being amazed at my venturing in ‘with the horse’!

Then the lantern guided me to the ‘barn,’ which also meant stable, and soon I was stumbling through the dark over soft patches that turned out to be long wet grass, leading my horse by the halter. Then I climbed over big loose stones and up a step more than a foot and a half high into a barn so low that my horse almost bumped his head. Then I stepped over some boards propped up to separate the stalls... the nice woman was surprised that I dared to come in ‘with the horse’!

Then a queer hunt in the half darkness for a pail for water and 194wooden box for Indian meal (which, stirred with water, often replaces oats here), and then to bed, tired enough!

Then a strange search in the dim light for a bucket for water and a wooden box for cornmeal (which, mixed with water, often substitutes for oats here), and then to bed, feeling quite tired!

This morning I groomed the horse, and, so doing, found a stone in his foot, fed him, and we between us washed the carriage. You may tell Daddy I had no idea what hard work it was before! We washed a long while at it, and somehow it wouldn’t look quite clean at last.

This morning, I took care of the horse and while doing that, I found a stone in his hoof, fed him, and we worked together to wash the carriage. You can tell Dad I had no idea how hard this work was before! We spent a long time on it, and somehow it still wouldn’t look quite clean in the end.

(N.B. Why will water dry muddy on to a carriage?)

(N.B. Why will water dry muddy onto a carriage?)

Then we drove on again some distance and found a place for dinner,—one of the big boarding-houses like what I was in at Compton,—and then on again. Dr. Sewall began to get tired when we were still 5 or 6 miles from our next point, Kennebunk,—and seeing a notice on a bye-road, ‘Atlantic House 3/4 mile’—we drove down,—found a charming inn almost on the sands, close to the Atlantic,—fresh and bright and airy, and settled here for the night. If you only knew what my afflictions are in American country inns,—I have hardly seen decent food in one since I left Boston—you may imagine my satisfaction at getting here the best supper I have had yet,—excellent fresh fish, lobsters, etc., and currants, and nice bread, and milk. Altogether the best table we’ve found yet.

Then we drove a bit further and found a spot for dinner—one of those big boarding houses like the one I stayed at in Compton—and we kept going. Dr. Sewall started to feel tired when we were still 5 or 6 miles away from our next stop, Kennebunk. We saw a sign for ‘Atlantic House 3/4 mile’ on a side road, so we headed there, and discovered a lovely inn right by the beach, close to the Atlantic—fresh, bright, and airy, and we decided to stay the night. If you only knew my struggles with American country inns—I haven't had decent food in one since I left Boston—you can imagine my happiness at finally getting the best supper I've had yet—excellent fresh fish, lobsters, currants, nice bread, and milk. Overall, this is the best meal we've found so far.

It sounds natural, too, to hear the roar of the Atlantic as I write,—only it seems sometimes to murmur, ‘Over the sea!’

It also feels natural to hear the roar of the Atlantic as I write, but sometimes it seems to whisper, ‘Across the sea!’

But then it always makes me feel nearer home to see the actual water which is the only thing between us,—of which you at Brighton see but another part.

But it always makes me feel closer to home to see the actual water that’s the only thing separating us—of which you in Brighton only see a different part.

Wednesday.... We have spent the day quietly here, and shall very likely drive to Portland in one day tomorrow,—30 miles is not much for a rested horse. He has not been out today, except for a short drive on the broad smooth sands which stretch for miles here.

Wednesday.... We’ve spent the day quietly here, and we’ll probably drive to Portland in one day tomorrow—30 miles isn’t too far for a rested horse. He hasn’t been out today, except for a short drive on the wide, smooth sands that stretch for miles here.

It is deliciously cool here by the ocean,—Dr. Sewall says ‘cold,’ and borrows my old blue jacket.

It’s wonderfully cool here by the ocean—Dr. Sewall says it’s ‘cold’ and asks to borrow my old blue jacket.

It is very pleasant and restful after Boston. If Portland is hot, we may return here for a few days on our way back.

It feels really nice and relaxing after Boston. If it's too hot in Portland, we might come back here for a few days on our way home.

Goodbye, darling. Yours lovingly,

Bye, darling. Love you,

Soph.”

“Atlantic House,

August 9th. 1867.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

Here we are staying again on the very verge of the Atlantic, having found Portland more gay than restful, and desiring some perfect quiet before we get home again.

Here we are again, right on the edge of the Atlantic, having found Portland more lively than relaxing, and wanting some perfect peace before we head home.

Your letter of July 25th has been forwarded to me with a long one from Carry, and one from an old schoolfellow of mine who had seen and liked my book, and so bethought herself to write to me and say so. She is a governess now.

Your letter from July 25th was sent to me along with a lengthy one from Carry, and a note from an old classmate of mine who read and enjoyed my book, so she decided to write to me and let me know. She’s a governess now.

195I should like to see that review in the Pall Mall,—perhaps some of you will send it to me,—and any others of which you hear....

195I would love to see that review in the Pall Mall—maybe some of you can send it to me—and any others you come across....

“August 11th. Sunday evening. We have been spending the afternoon ‘camping out’ in the midst of some woods (Haywards Heath fashion) letting our horse graze and enjoying the cool and quiet. We have one more day here and then go on towards home, and expect to get there on Friday. Soon after—in September probably—we shall make another attempt, aided by Mr. Loring, and, I hope, by Prof. Rogers (have you seen him?) to get into Harvard or to get some advantages out of them; and I suppose on our success will depend a good deal what we do in the winter....

“August 11th. Sunday evening. We’ve spent the afternoon ‘camping out’ in the woods (Haywards Heath style), letting our horse graze while enjoying the cool and peaceful surroundings. We have one more day here before heading back home, and we expect to arrive on Friday. Soon after—in September, probably—we’ll make another attempt, with help from Mr. Loring and, hopefully, from Prof. Rogers (have you seen him?) to get into Harvard or gain some benefits from them; and I suppose our success will significantly influence what we do over the winter....

The Doctor begs me to send her love. I do hope you may know her by this time next year. Don’t you?

The Doctor asks me to send her love. I really hope you know her by this time next year. Don’t you?

Love to all. Tell Carry I’ll write soon in answer to hers.

Love to everyone. Tell Carry I'll write back soon in response to hers.

Yours lovingly, Soph.”

“I think what you say is true about the difficulties of ‘Joint Education’ in England,” she writes to her brother in answer to a criticism of her book. “Myself, I care very little about it if both sexes can somehow get all the education they want or wish for.”

“I think what you say is true about the challenges of ‘Joint Education’ in England,” she writes to her brother in response to a criticism of her book. “Personally, I don’t care much about it as long as both genders can get all the education they want or need.”

There is little record of the winter’s work, though the following rough draft—in S.J.-B.’s handwriting—of an appeal to Harvard has been preserved:

There isn’t much documentation of the winter’s activities, but the following rough draft—in S.J.-B.’s handwriting—of an appeal to Harvard has been kept:

“Jan. 1868.

Gentlemen,

Guys,

Having during the past year been granted access to the clinical advantages of the Massachusetts General Hospital, but finding it impossible anywhere in New England to obtain adequate theoretical instruction in Medicine, we now earnestly entreat you to reconsider the subject of the admission of women to the lectures at Harvard Medical School,—such admission being, as we understand, forbidden by no past or present statute of the University.

Having been granted access to the clinical resources of Massachusetts General Hospital over the past year, but finding it impossible to get proper theoretical training in Medicine anywhere in New England, we now sincerely ask you to reconsider allowing women to attend lectures at Harvard Medical School—something that we understand is not prohibited by any past or present university statute.

We do not wish to enter on the vexed question of the capability or non-capability of women for the practice of Medicine, as we believe that time and experience only can furnish its true answer, but we now present our urgent petition that some opportunity may be afforded us for the thorough study of the medical science and art, that we may be granted at least some of the advantages that are not denied to every man, and allowed to show whether we are or are not worthy to make use of them.

We don’t want to dive into the contentious issue of whether women can practice medicine or not, as we believe that only time and experience can provide a true answer. However, we urgently request the opportunity to thoroughly study medical science and practice, so that we can be granted at least some of the advantages that every man is not denied, and we can demonstrate whether we are worthy of using them or not.

We are willing, Gentlemen, to submit to any required examination, to qualify ourselves according to any given standard, to furnish any personal references, and to abide by any restrictions and regulations which may seem proper to the Corporation or to the Faculty.

We are ready, gentlemen, to undergo any necessary evaluations, to meet any specified standards, to provide any personal references, and to adhere to any rules and regulations that the Corporation or the Faculty may find appropriate.

196Several of the Professors having expressed their personal willingness to allow us to attend their lectures, we earnestly request that the Corporation will authorize our admission to those classes into which the respective Professors do not object to receive us, and that, in any case where the Professors does so object, we may be allowed to receive private instruction from some medical gentleman approved by the Faculty, whose lectures shall in our case be held equivalent to those given to the College classes in the same subject.”

196Several Professors have expressed their willingness for us to attend their lectures. We kindly request that the Corporation allow our admission to any classes where the respective Professors don’t mind having us. In cases where a Professor objects, we ask to receive private instruction from an approved medical professional, with their lectures being considered equivalent to the classes offered at the College on the same subject.

“Fighting on for Harvard with a sort of dull persistency,” she records in her diary in March 1868, “expecting another answer from the Corporation on the 11th.

“Fighting on for Harvard with a kind of dull persistence,” she writes in her diary in March 1868, “waiting for another response from the Corporation on the 11th.

Well, having been in Mass. Hospital for 8 months is something. With all my dull atheism, I do believe somehow the Best will be,—if not this, another. ‘And so far have brought me—to put me to shame’?”

Well, spending 8 months in Mass. Hospital is something. With all my boring atheism, I do believe somehow the Best will be—if not this, then something else. ‘And so far have brought me—to put me to shame’?”

Many entries in the diary about this time prove that she was passing through that veritable “dark night of the soul” that has lain in the path of so many bright spirits of her generation.

Many entries in the diary from around this time show that she was going through that true “dark night of the soul” that has affected so many bright individuals of her generation.

“I suppose it isn’t till the whole world—and oneself—breaks away under one that one does know what rubbish one is made of,—‘dust and ashes.... And what fine things I started with! Sir Launfal ^[45] and gilded armour, etc. To conquer all the giants and beam Christian charity everywhere.

“I guess it isn't until the whole world—and yourself—falls apart that you realize what junk you're made of—‘dust and ashes.... And look at all the great things I started with! Sir Launfal ^[45] and shiny armor, etc. To defeat all the giants and spread Christian kindness everywhere.

I believe old folks do ‘know young folks to be fools.’

I think older people really see younger ones as fools.

A nice result at near 28—Chaos!—with a possible sawbones in futuro!”

A nice result at almost 28—Chaos!—with a possible doctor in the future!”

“Jan. 21st. 1868. ‘Quid sum miser tunc dicturus’!

“Jan. 21st. 1868. "What will I, the miserable one, say then!"

Eight and twenty!—‘and a sinner!’”

Twenty-eight!—‘and a sinner!’”

One must bear in mind always, of course, that a diary is apt to reflect the graver side of a character, the side that associates, and even friends, would scarcely guess at. Certainly the letters to “the dear old folks” bear small witness to this stress and strain. They recount all sorts of innocent adventures and happy doings which were quite as real—one is glad to believe—as the strong crying and tears of the night watches.

One must always keep in mind that a diary tends to reveal the more serious side of a person's character, the side that acquaintances and even friends might not really know about. The letters to "the dear old folks" definitely don't show this stress and strain. They tell about all sorts of innocent adventures and joyful experiences that feel just as real—as we like to believe—as the deep cries and tears during the sleepless nights.

197

“13 Pleasant Street,
Boston, U.S.
Monday, Jan. 27th. 68.

Darling Mother

Dear Mom

Such a sleigh ride as we had yesterday I hope you’ll never have,—and indeed I don’t care about repeating the dose myself! I drove the doctor eight or nine miles in a pelting snow-storm, partly across open country, long bridges and marshes, etc., the thermometer somewhere about 10° or 15°, a good deal of wind, which always makes it feel much colder, and the sharp crystals of snow cutting into our faces and eyes like so many pin points and causing actual pain. Towards the end I found it rather hard to see,—some white things seemed to get in front of my eyes;—what do you think they were? Solid icicles hanging from all my eye-lashes on the side exposed to the wind,—frozen together into three or four solid little balls as big as small peas, and partly freezing the lids together! When I got in I called Eliza to see them,—you should have heard her ‘Gracious goodness!’

I hope you never have a sleigh ride like the one we had yesterday—honestly, I don't want to do that again either! I took the doctor for a drive eight or nine miles in a heavy snowstorm, partly through open fields, over long bridges, and across marshes, with the temperature around 10° or 15°. There was a lot of wind, which always makes it feel much colder, and the sharp snow crystals were hitting our faces and eyes like tiny needles, causing real pain. By the end, I found it pretty hard to see—some white things seemed to be blocking my vision; can you guess what they were? Solid icicles were hanging from all my eyelashes on the side facing the wind—frozen together into three or four little balls the size of small peas, and partially freezing my eyelids shut! When I got inside, I called Eliza to show her—they should have heard her exclaim, “Gracious goodness!”

Even sealskin gloves fail one in such stormy cold,—one’s hands freeze and have to be thawed out as regards sensation several times in a drive! So we carry hot bottles to do it with, and Dr. Sewall laughed at the figure I cut yesterday, driving with one hand, the other grasping a big two-quart bottle upright on my lap, and my head bent on one side like a lapwing’s to see out of the one eye that wasn’t frozen up!

Even sealskin gloves can’t keep your hands warm in such severe cold—you end up freezing and having to warm them up again multiple times during a drive! So, we bring hot water bottles to help with that, and Dr. Sewall laughed at the sight I made yesterday, driving with one hand while holding a big two-quart bottle upright on my lap with the other, and my head tilted to one side like a lapwing’s to see out of the one eye that wasn’t frozen shut!

She herself offered to drive again and again, but speed was my object, and I always make the horse go half as fast again as she does. He did gallantly yesterday,—the roads and streets were clear, and we spun over the white frozen surface at eight or ten miles an hour.

She kept offering to drive over and over, but I was focused on speed, and I always push the horse to go at least 50% faster than she does. He did great yesterday—the roads and streets were clear, and we zipped over the white frozen surface at eight or ten miles per hour.

When it is not actually snowing, sleighing is very exhilarating,—the horse has a light load and is generally in good spirits,—sleigh-bells jangling merrily, etc.”

When it's not actually snowing, sledding is really exciting—the horse has a light load and is usually in a good mood—sleigh bells jingling happily, etc.

“March 6th.

... A few days ago one of the women who had been confined here was fetched home by her husband, and with him came a rather big dog of the setter or lurcher kind, I think, or rather a cross on one of them. The folks went away, and so did the dog, but in half an hour he was back again, scratching at the Hospital door. He was fetched again by the man and again ran back, no one having, so far as I know, petted or enticed him at all. Then he was refused admission or turned out on the street, and when his master came again for him I believe he found him on the street; but in the evening there came a scratching at our hall door—not the Hospital,—and in walked the same dog again! I knew nothing of the previous story, but remembered having seen him with the man who came to our 198house to see Dr. Sewall, so I took him in. From that moment he attached himself to me, so that he follows every step I take, and whines at any door I enter without him. As the man didn’t come again for him, I drove to his house this morning,—the dog following close to the sleigh all the way (some two miles), and when he got there the dog greeted his master certainly, but directly I rose to go, up he jumped after me. So, as his choice seemed to be made, I offered the man $5 (15s. 6d.) for him, and now am undisputed owner of my loyal friend!

A few days ago, one of the women who had been staying here was picked up by her husband, and with him came a pretty big dog, maybe a setter or lurcher mix. They left, and so did the dog, but about half an hour later, he came back, scratching at the Hospital door. The man came to get him again, and once more the dog ran back, without anyone having, as far as I know, petted or tempted him at all. Then he was refused entry and sent out onto the street, and when his owner returned for him, I believe he found him outside; but later that evening, there was a scratching at our hall door—not the Hospital—and in walked the same dog again! I didn’t know his backstory but recognized him from when the man visited our house to see Dr. Sewall, so I took him in. From that moment on, he attached himself to me, following my every step and whining at any door I went through without him. Since the man didn’t come back for him, I drove to his house this morning—the dog sticking right by my sleigh the whole way (about two miles), and when we got there, the dog certainly greeted his owner, but as soon as I stood up to leave, he jumped up after me. So, since it seemed clear he preferred me, I offered the man $5 (15s. 6d.) for him, and now I’m the proud owner of my loyal friend!

It is rather queer, for I had been wishing for a dog of my own, and, though he is not a great beauty, he has a nice face, is very obedient, clean, and, I think, intelligent,—though Dr. Sewall professes to disdain him for being ‘so big’!—and then one can’t help liking even a dog who so plainly declares ‘elective affinity.’”^[46]

It’s kind of strange because I had been hoping for a dog of my own, and although he’s not exactly a looker, he has a nice face, is very obedient, clean, and I think he’s smart—though Dr. Sewall claims to look down on him for being ‘too big’!—and you just can’t help but like a dog who obviously shows ‘elective affinity.’”^[46]

In the midst of all these new interests she had not forgotten the question of education at Bettws-y-Coed, and she was deeply interested in the maturing plans for a new school there. She writes to her Mother:

In the middle of all these new interests, she hadn't forgotten about the education issue at Bettws-y-Coed, and she was really invested in the developing plans for a new school there. She writes to her mother:

“I am glad to understand that you have bought, not the first bit of ground, but another near it. I hope Carry will soon send me some idea of her plans, though, of course, we can’t build for some months. I enclose a very rough sketch of what would be my own idea of a schoolroom with gallery at one end and with classroom at the other,—and besides the class room a sort of lobby with second entrance and with stairs leading to the rooms above for Anne. The porch to have places to hang hats, etc., as also under the gallery (as at Hastings).

"I'm happy to hear that you bought not just the first piece of land, but another one nearby. I hope Carry will send me some details about her plans soon, although, of course, we can't start building for a few months. I'm including a rough sketch of what I envision for a classroom, with a gallery on one end and a classroom on the other. Besides the classroom, there's a kind of lobby with a second entrance and stairs leading up to the rooms for Anne. The porch should have spots to hang hats and such, just like under the gallery (like at Hastings)."

I can’t remember about dimensions, though I have a sort of idea that, when we spoke of building before, we planned our schoolroom at 18 ft. by 28, and 10 ft. or 11 ft. high, the class room to be perhaps 11 ft. by 8.

I can’t remember the dimensions, but I have a rough idea that when we talked about building earlier, we planned our classroom to be 18 feet by 28 feet, and 10 or 11 feet high, with the classroom maybe being 11 feet by 8 feet.

Ask Carry to see how that agrees with the standard space for 100 children.”

Ask Carry to check how that aligns with the standard space for 100 kids.

The school was actually built in 1869, everything being done in a fashion characteristic of the Jex-Blake family. They gave what was needed, but not in such a spirit as to discourage the generosity of others. The landlord gave the site—for a purely nominal rent,—together with permission to take what stone was needed from a neighbouring quarry. Farmers and others did the carting for love. For years the 199Jex-Blakes had been educating a competent girl—a former pupil—as mistress. Local sympathy and appreciation, combined with the persevering interest of the founders, were the very life-blood of the school. How much finer this than the building of an ornamental edifice that should hand down the name of the donor to future generations.

The school was actually built in 1869, everything being done in a way typical of the Jex-Blake family. They provided what was necessary, but not in a manner that would discourage the generosity of others. The landlord offered the land—for a very small rent—along with permission to take whatever stone was needed from a nearby quarry. Farmers and others did the hauling for free. For years, the Jex-Blakes had been educating a qualified girl—a former student—as the headmistress. Local support and appreciation, along with the founders' persistent interest, were the true lifeblood of the school. How much better this is than constructing an impressive building just to immortalize the donor's name for future generations.

In March 1868 S. J.-B. gave up Boston in despair for the moment, and went to New York, where she had the support of Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell and her sister Emily, both of whom had plans for the more adequate medical education of women, and were organizing special classes. S. J.-B. also persuaded the Head Demonstrator of Anatomy at Bellevue to give her and another woman student a course of private lessons in Dissecting and Practical Anatomy.

In March 1868, S. J.-B. left Boston in frustration for the time being and moved to New York, where she had the support of Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell and her sister Emily. Both were working on improving medical education for women and were setting up special classes. S. J.-B. also convinced the Head Demonstrator of Anatomy at Bellevue to provide her and another female student with private lessons in Dissecting and Practical Anatomy.

“March 28th. Saturday. Began dissecting with Dr. Moseley ... oh, dear, isn’t it good to have some real teaching at last!

“March 28th. Saturday. Started dissecting with Dr. Moseley ... oh, wow, isn’t it great to finally have some real teaching!”

By-the-bye, the Blackwells think they could get us into Bellevue if Harvard refuses. New York for 3 winters? Shall I bring Alice or what? They want English ladies to come and make a class, and offer to receive them into the Infirmary. (But English ladies are not given to dine in kitchens on poor kitchen fare, etc.)

By the way, the Blackwells think they could get us into Bellevue if Harvard says no. New York for three winters? Should I bring Alice or what? They want English ladies to come and create a social class, and they’re offering to host them at the Infirmary. (But English ladies aren’t inclined to dine in kitchens with basic food, etc.)

Is my old idea ever to work out by O. H. studying medicine? Wouldn’t she be a good doctor!

Is my old idea ever going to work out with O. H. studying medicine? Wouldn't she be a great doctor!

By-the-bye, challenged by the Blackwells as ‘to whose management (in re English Female University) would inspire me with £1000 confidence,’ I say, O. H., Miss M., etc.”

By the way, challenged by the Blackwells about whose management (regarding the English Female University) would give me £1000 confidence, I say, O. H., Miss M., etc.

She wrote delightful long letters to Dr. Sewall about the minutiae of her work, and was somewhat concerned as to how the little Boston world was getting on without her.

She wrote charming long letters to Dr. Sewall about the details of her work and was a bit worried about how the small Boston community was managing without her.

“I am glad that you find out (as I told you you would) that I did do one or two little things while you wondered how I spent my time. I wish, however, that you had someone to do them now,—I am afraid you will get so tired. I shall ask Eliza if you eat properly. Tell her that I mean to write to her next time.

“I’m glad you found out (as I said you would) that I did a couple of things while you were wondering how I spent my time. I just wish you had someone to help you with them now—I’m worried you’ll get too tired. I’ll ask Eliza if you’re eating well. Tell her I plan to write to her next time.”

The little book of your bills is on my shelf in my secretary,—a small account book. Don’t muddle the things in looking for it. Be sure and put down in it all the bills you send out. Can’t you get Miss Call to write them for you? She really can write (unusual in the N.E.H.)....

The small book of your bills is on my shelf in my desk—a little account book. Don’t mix things up while searching for it. Make sure to record all the bills you send out in it. Can’t you ask Miss Call to write them for you? She really can write (not common in the N.E.H.)....

200Tell me if Eliza does nicely,—tell her I asked after her and her housekeeping and Robert.

200Let me know if Eliza is doing well—tell her I asked about her, her home, and Robert.

I am glad that my son Turk behaves better as he grows older. Give him an extra bone with my blessing.”

I’m happy that my son Turk is acting better as he gets older. Give him an extra bone with my blessing.

To her Mother she writes a long account of her difficulty in finding rooms at a reasonable price.

To her mom, she writes a long message about her struggles to find affordable rooms.

“So living in New York is neither easy nor cheap, you see, ... I hardly know how I shall manage if I go to a medical college this winter, and have to pay all lecture expenses, etc., besides living,—for women have to incur extra expense in all sorts of ways, because they can’t share the arrangements of some sorts made for men....

“So living in New York isn’t easy or cheap, you know, ... I barely know how I’ll manage if I attend medical college this winter and have to cover all the lecture costs, along with living expenses—because women have to deal with extra costs in all sorts of ways since they can’t join in on some of the arrangements made for men...”

... while studying, Miss Garrett had, I know, to spend lots of money,—paying £50 for a single course of lectures which the men got (in class) for £5 each.

... while studying, Miss Garrett had to spend a lot of money, I know—paying £50 for a single course of lectures that the men got (in class) for £5 each.

When there was an idea of my taking the Manchester College, Daddy was willing to advance me £1000 or £2000 for the start, instead of part of the income he allowed me;—do you think he would be willing to do some such thing now? I suppose it is hard for you at home who don’t realize exactly the hard battle we are fighting (especially to get into the good medical colleges) to see how very important it is not to be stopped from seizing every bit of advantage obtainable for want of money. And it unfortunately happens that most of the women who are studying Medicine really cannot get money even when most necessary.

When there was a possibility of me attending Manchester College, Dad was ready to lend me £1000 or £2000 to get started, instead of taking part of the income he was giving me. Do you think he would be willing to do something like that now? I know it’s tough for you at home who don’t fully understand the difficult battle we’re facing (especially to get into the good medical schools) to see how crucial it is not to let a lack of funds stop us from taking every opportunity we can. Sadly, most women studying Medicine really can’t get money, even when they need it the most.

When I began I had no idea of going into any of this,—but somehow one gets talking to Mother of what is uppermost in one’s mind sometimes.

When I started, I had no intention of getting into any of this—but sometimes you end up discussing what's most on your mind with Mom.

And I know Mother wants to hear all my bothers and perplexities.

And I know Mom wants to hear all my troubles and confusions.

Much love, darling, to Daddy and Carry.

Much love to Dad and Carry.

Yours lovingly,

Soph.”

“April 12th. Notwithstanding all the discomforts in the way of board, I have been gaining greatly by my stay here. I have had a better opportunity for dissecting, etc., than ever before, and besides have learnt a good deal at the daily medical lessons which take place at Dr. Blackwell’s every afternoon. If I am to be a doctor at all, I mean to be a thoroughly good one, and now that I have gone so far in medical study, I mean to go right through, unless some very unforeseen obstacle comes. And then the future may decide what use my knowledge may come to. I sometimes think that a woman doctor could find very useful work in teaching Anatomy and Physiology,—or at least something of them—to women and girls, who are apt to be so terribly ignorant of them.

“April 12th. Despite all the discomforts regarding accommodation, I have greatly benefited from my time here. I have had a better opportunity for dissecting and other activities than ever before, and I've also learned a lot from the daily medical lessons held at Dr. Blackwell's every afternoon. If I’m going to be a doctor at all, I want to be an excellent one, and now that I’ve come this far in my medical studies, I plan to see it through, unless something very unexpected comes up. Then the future will determine how my knowledge might be used. Sometimes I think a female doctor could find valuable work teaching Anatomy and Physiology—or at least a bit of it—to women and girls, who often lack knowledge in these areas.”

201Lately I have been spending an hour or so of an evening (for rest) in hearing a nice ‘daughter of the house’ read French to me, she having very few chances of help, poor child.”

201Recently, I've been spending an hour or so each evening relaxing while a nice young woman from the household reads French to me, since she doesn't have many opportunities for assistance, poor girl.

On the eve of sailing for England, she sums up the situation in her diary with her usual relentless truthfulness:

On the night before heading to England, she sums up the situation in her diary with her typical honesty:

“April 11th.... Within three weeks of leaving for home,—what balance sheet?

“April 11th.... It’s been three weeks since I left for home—what’s the outcome?

Nearly three years in America.

Almost three years in America.

In that time complete health regained,—probably better than ever before,—real strength and power of study. A profession opening calmly and clearly before me,—its sciences already ‘as trees walking,’ becoming clearer daily. The edge of pain all gone. But with it vivid faith and life in many directions—belief in all invisible and much reaching after the heroic. A sort of passive ‘quo fata vocant,’—a sort of ceasing to demand the very good or very true, perhaps,—a sort of coldbloodedness that is not peace,—a nil admirari that only ‘will do for it.’ My vocation given up or laid aside, and I quietly learning knowledge chiefly because it is power,—hardly yet shaping out any end; but what does come, selfish enough. Professor of Anatomy? Surgeon? Doctor-Teacher?

During that time, I regained my health completely—probably better than ever before—along with real strength and focus for studying. A career path opening up clearly in front of me, with its fields of knowledge becoming clearer every day. The pain was all gone. But along with that came a strong belief in many things—a faith in the unseen and a pursuit of the heroic. A kind of passive acceptance, a sort of giving up on demanding what is good or true, perhaps—a coldness that isn’t quite peace—a feeling of indifference that just “will do.” I’ve set my career aside, and I’m quietly learning for the sake of gaining power—not yet shaping out any clear goal; but whatever arises is rather selfish. Will I be a Professor of Anatomy? A Surgeon? A Doctor-Teacher?

Sometimes a sharp pain rushes across,—‘Ah, if Mother shouldn’t live to see me succeed!’—She does seem woven in with the heartstrings,—my old darling who cannot forget.

Sometimes a sharp pain hits me—‘Ah, what if Mom doesn’t live to see me succeed!’—She really feels tied to my heartstrings—my beloved old mom who cannot forget.

All this health and new life—more than ever hoped for—comes mediately from L.E.S.”

All this health and new life—more than we ever hoped for—comes directly from L.E.S.”

If this estimate of herself is just, one can only say that the lulling for the time of her higher emotional nature was probably a blessing in disguise. It helped her to make her foundation of knowledge sure. She had in her measure to learn—what every true scientist must learn—that “the natural is the rational and the divine,” that “there is no real break between the natural and the supernatural.”

If this self-assessment is accurate, it can only be said that temporarily calming her deeper emotions was likely a hidden blessing. It allowed her to firmly establish her knowledge base. She had to learn—what every true scientist must learn—that “the natural is the rational and the divine,” and that “there is no real break between the natural and the supernatural.”

“A man that looks on glass,

On it may stay his eye—”

and if his eye be single his whole body may yet be full of light.

and if his eye is focused, his whole body may still be full of light.

In any case the closing words of S. J.-B.’s ‘balance sheet’ are significant enough,—

In any case, the closing words of S. J.-B.’s ‘balance sheet’ are significant enough,—

“Comes—mediately—from L.E.S.”!

“Comes—immediately—from L.E.S.”!

202

CHAPTER XVI
GOING HOME

It was in the course of this summer of 1868 that S. J.-B. realized her earnest wish to welcome her friend Dr. Lucy Sewall in England. She had raised great expectations among her friends, but, notwithstanding this, the visitor’s sweetness and grace won all hearts. “That woman is fit to be the apostle of a great movement,” Dr. T. W. Jex-Blake had said when he first saw her photograph, “with a face at once so strong and so tender.” And a closer acquaintance only served to confirm this judgment.

It was during the summer of 1868 that S. J.-B. fulfilled her deep wish to host her friend Dr. Lucy Sewall in England. She had created high hopes among her friends, but despite this, the visitor's charm and kindness captured everyone’s hearts. “That woman is meant to lead a significant movement,” Dr. T. W. Jex-Blake remarked when he first saw her photograph, “with a face that is both powerful and gentle.” And getting to know her better only reinforced this opinion.

It is impossible to exaggerate the pride with which S. J.-B. took “the Doctor” everywhere, in a world that knew not the “sweet girl graduate” of the present day, and showed her off—for choice in a pretty pale-blue frock—with secret triumph to the friends who were expecting something very masculine and aggressive. Quite a number of sick people—Mrs. Unwin among the number—were eagerly waiting to consult her: and many were the requests that she would come and settle in England.

It’s impossible to overstate the pride with which S. J.-B. took “the Doctor” everywhere, in a world that didn’t know the “sweet girl graduate” of today, and showed her off—preferably in a lovely pale-blue dress—with a quiet sense of triumph to friends who were expecting something much more masculine and assertive. Quite a few sick people—including Mrs. Unwin—were eagerly waiting to consult her, and many were the requests for her to come and settle in England.

What Mr. Jex-Blake thought of her may be gathered from the following most characteristic note written a month or two later to his daughter:

What Mr. Jex-Blake thought of her can be understood from the following very telling note he wrote to his daughter a month or two later:

“13 Sussex Square,
Brighton.
2nd August 1868.

Dearest,

Dear,

It is so much in my head and heart, and in the dear Mother’s, to have the privilege of presenting your most valued friend with some 203memento of her visit, that I beg you to use all your influence, and entreat Dr. Lucy Sewall to accept a carriage, or any other thing that she would value, as a remembrance of your dear Mother and myself, when she has returned home. She can little imagine how much she would please us both by doing so.

It's been weighing heavily on my mind and heart, as well as on dear Mother's, the honor of giving your wonderful friend a keepsake from her visit. I really hope you can use your influence and convince Dr. Lucy Sewall to accept a carriage or anything else she would appreciate as a token from your dear Mother and me when she goes back home. She has no idea how much it would mean to both of us if she did this.

Your affectionate Father,

T. Jex-Blake.”

Two other happenings specially marked the holiday,—a visit from Mrs. Jenkinson (Mrs. Ballantyne), and a delightful rapprochement between S. J.-B. and her Father.

Two other events particularly highlighted the holiday—a visit from Mrs. Jenkinson (Mrs. Ballantyne) and a lovely reconciliation between S. J.-B. and her Father.

Of Mrs. Jenkinson she writes in her diary:

Of Mrs. Jenkinson, she writes in her diary:

“So good, so fascinating and dainty! I haven’t had so much wide and deep talk with anyone for three years at least....

“So good, so interesting and delicate! I haven't had such deep and meaningful conversations with anyone in at least three years...”

The proposal of her driving them to church ending in my doing so. Somehow the service moved me greatly. ‘Gethsemane, can I forget,’ etc....

The suggestion that she would drive them to church ended up with me doing it instead. For some reason, the service really touched me. ‘Gethsemane, can I forget,’ etc....

‘What is truth?’—no jesting Pilate,—yet do I stay for an answer? Oh, dear, the certainties of p. [181], etc., and now! Yet I think the wheel is beginning to sway upwards again. Please God! Yes, surely the Ephesians stretched wise earnest hands (or may have done) to the Unknown God. ‘Strenuous souls ... to stand in the dark on the lowest stair.’”

‘What is truth?’—no joking Pilate—but do I wait for an answer? Oh, wow, the certainties of p. [181], etc., and now! Yet I think the wheel is starting to turn upwards again. Please God! Yes, surely the Ephesians reached out with wise, earnest hands (or might have done) to the Unknown God. ‘Strenuous souls ... to stand in the dark on the lowest step.’”

“May 31st. Wonderful how content everyone is with my medical prospects. Daddy decides our residence (!) for Mount Street, Grosvenor Square. I say now pretty definitely,—in 4 more years England, three years study, and one of practice.

“May 31st. It's amazing how satisfied everyone is with my medical prospects. Dad has chosen our place for Mount Street, Grosvenor Square. I can say pretty confidently now—in four more years: three years of studying and one year of practice.”

Meanwhile a quiet satisfactory holiday must have. No one can tell how many more with the old folks, and this must be what will be good to remember.”

Meanwhile a quiet satisfying holiday must happen. No one can tell how many more there will be with the old folks, and this must be what will be good to remember.”

“June 20th. Maurice’s lecture. ‘Miss Jex-Blake’s investigations in America might help much to the solution of the problem’ [of mixed education, presumably]. And after the lecture he thanked me for my book. I’m cock a hoop now!”

“June 20th. Maurice’s lecture. ‘Miss Jex-Blake’s research in America could greatly assist in solving the issue’ [of mixed education, presumably]. And after the lecture he thanked me for my book. I’m over the moon now!”

“June 24th. On the whole my resolve well kept till now,—one month’s success in no (or few and light) ‘cataracts and breaks.’ Somehow I have a solemn sort of feeling about it this year, as if it would be the last with one or other.”

“June 24th. Overall, I've managed to stick to my resolve so far—one month of success with little to no major setbacks. Somehow, I have a serious feeling about this year, as if it might be the last one with either of them.”

“Ah, darling,” she writes to her Mother on the voyage, “it was such hard work to say Goodbye last week! Do you know for one little minute I wondered whether after all the price wasn’t too hard to pay, and whether after all I shouldn’t give up doctor, hospital, M.D. and all and just stay with the old Mother.”Mother.”

“Hey, Mom,” she writes to her Mother on the journey, “it was so tough to say goodbye last week! Do you know that for a moment I actually wondered if maybe the cost was too high to pay, and if I shouldn’t just give up being a doctor, the hospital, M.D., and everything and just stay with the old Mom.Mother.”

204“Sept. 29th. Boston. I am sorry to say that Harvard has refused me again, so I must go to New York!—Ah, well,—‘all things are less dreadful than they seem’!”

204“Sept. 29th. Boston. I regret to say that Harvard has turned me down again, so I have to go to New York!—Ah, well,—‘everything is less terrible than it appears’!”

In that autumn of 1868 the Blackwells carried out their project of starting a medical school for women in New York.

In the autumn of 1868, the Blackwells launched their initiative to establish a medical school for women in New York.

Two class-tickets are extant admitting Miss S. L. Jex-Blake to the classes of Practical Anatomy and of the Principles and Practice of Medicine at the Women’s Medical College of the New York Infirmary; and there is also a letter from Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell giving advice about rooms:

Two class tickets still exist allowing Miss S. L. Jex-Blake to attend the Practical Anatomy and Principles and Practice of Medicine classes at the Women’s Medical College of the New York Infirmary; and there is also a letter from Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell offering advice about accommodations:

“With regard to your winter’s work, we will discuss it when you come. We shall be glad to meet your views in any way we can.

“With regard to your winter's work, we'll talk about it when you come. We’ll be happy to accommodate your ideas in any way we can."

There are other matters connected with the school itself we shall be glad to talk over with you, one in particular, which I think would interest you, and in which, from your exceptional position in the class, I think you could help us in our organisation; but I shall leave its discussion till you come.

There are other issues related to the school that we’d be happy to discuss with you, especially one in particular that I believe would interest you. Given your unique position in the class, I think you could really assist us with our organization. However, I’ll wait to talk about it until you arrive.

I hope you will allow time to get thoroughly settled and through with the trouble of it before November.”

I hope you take the time to get completely settled and past any issues before November.

“Oct. 23rd. Friday. Came to New York.... Went 137 Avenue for a week to hunt for rooms,—oh, dear!... At length decided on 222 East Tenth [Street]—two back parlours and two above,—gas and all $55. Alice arrived on Monday 26th.”

“Oct. 23rd. Friday. Arrived in New York.... Went down 137 Avenue for a week to search for rooms,—oh, dear!... Finally settled on 222 East Tenth [Street]—two back parlors and two upstairs,—gas and all for $55. Alice showed up on Monday the 26th.”

“222 East 10th Street,

New York. Nov. 1st. 68.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

The term begins tomorrow, and I am glad to say that Alice and I have just succeeded in getting things into some sort of order in time. Besides laying down carpets, buying a stove and kitchen pots and pans, a bedstead and chairs, etc., I have been providing winter stores in American fashion, and yesterday bought two barrels of potatoes, 30 lbs. of butter, etc. etc., to say nothing of flour and wine. My money is running terribly low,—I have only about £20 left when this month’s rent is paid; but then most of my things are bought now, and besides I can borrow from Dr. Sewall if needful. Besides the Hospital owes me about £10 or £11 for duties paid, so I can probably get on till my next quarter comes....

The term starts tomorrow, and I’m happy to say that Alice and I have managed to get everything organized just in time. In addition to laying down carpets, buying a stove and kitchen pots and pans, a bed frame and chairs, etc., I’ve been stocking up for winter in the American way, and yesterday I bought two barrels of potatoes, 30 lbs. of butter, and more—not to mention flour and wine. My funds are running dangerously low—I’ll have only about £20 left after paying this month’s rent; but most of my purchases are done now, and I can borrow from Dr. Sewall if necessary. Plus, the Hospital owes me about £10 or £11 for duties I paid, so I should be fine until my next payment comes in.

I know Mother will be thinking of me on my own hook in New York. This last week has been a pretty hard time, but now things are falling into shape. Alice has been invaluable. I know that having her, with the proper food, will just make all the difference to me of being able to work on all winter without breaking down. The 205Blackwells are very pleasant, and, though I have no special friends here, I shall be so busy and cosy that I expect to get on capitally.

I know Mom will be thinking about me while I'm on my own in New York. This past week has been pretty tough, but now things are starting to come together. Alice has been a huge help. I know that having her around, with the right food, will make all the difference in keeping me able to work all winter without burning out. The Blackwells are really nice, and even though I don’t have any close friends here, I expect to be so busy and comfortable that I’ll do really well.

I am afraid the poor little Doctor gets the worst of it,—she will really miss my help in many ways, besides mutual loss of company,—and I am sadly afraid she won’t take due care of herself. I can’t tell you and Daddy how thankful I am that he has given her that charming little carriage,—it is such a relief to my mind to know that she will not be forced to drive herself when weary and half frozen: and I believe it will make a real difference in her health.

I’m afraid the poor little Doctor is really going to struggle without my help. She’ll genuinely miss me in many ways, not to mention the mutual companionship we share—and I’m really worried she won’t take good care of herself. I can’t express enough how thankful I am that Dad has gotten her that lovely little carriage. It’s such a relief to know she won’t have to drive herself when she’s tired and freezing. I truly believe it will have a positive impact on her health.

Her Father was very pleased with it, though I believe he made very careful enquiries as to whether the Doctor was sure Daddy ‘could afford to give her such a splendid present.’ Of course he didn’t ask me that, but I took an opportunity of telling him that I knew you both felt that the carriage represented only a small part of your feeling of real gratitude to her for all the good she has done me medically and otherwise. Wasn’t I right?...”right?...”

Her dad was really happy about it, but I think he was careful to check if the doctor was sure that Dad 'could afford to give her such an amazing gift.' Of course, he didn't ask me that, but I took the chance to tell him that I knew you both felt the carriage was just a small way to express your genuine gratitude for everything she has done for me, both medically and otherwise. Wasn't I right?right?...”

“Darling Mother,—I wrote the two other sheets on purpose that you may pass them on to Daddy, and I mean to try to do so as much as I can, and put anything private on a separate bit for you, for I think the dear old man really likes to see my letters, and I am sure I want to give him all the pleasure I can.

“Dear Mom,—I wrote the two other pages so that you can share them with Dad, and I plan to keep doing that as much as I can. I’ll make sure to put anything private on a separate note for you because I really think he enjoys reading my letters, and I definitely want to give him as much joy as I can.”

His Goodbye was so very kind and loving,—I often think of it.”

His goodbye was so kind and loving—I often think about it.

“Nov. 3rd.

Yesterday was the opening of our College, at which Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell made a speech which I was asked to report for the chief medical paper here. I have done so, and will send you the paragraph when it appears....

Yesterday was the opening of our college, where Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell gave a speech that I was asked to cover for the main medical publication here. I've completed the report and will send you the paragraph once it's published....

My rooms are not far from the College and other places where I have to go daily, and altogether I may consider myself well off. I have managed to buy as little furniture as possible, having brought carpets from Boston, and having hired two tables, a bed and a stove, from the landlady here. I have not yet bought more than £12 worth, and I mean to try to get on with as little more as possible.

My place isn’t far from the College and the other spots I need to go to every day, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well. I’ve managed to buy very little furniture, having brought carpets from Boston and rented two tables, a bed, and a stove from my landlady. I’ve only spent about £12 so far, and I plan to keep it to a minimum moving forward.

I am very glad to hear of Miss Garrett’s good news. I shall send her note on to the Doctor. I know it will please her so much.”

I’m really happy to hear about Miss Garrett’s good news. I’ll forward her note to the Doctor. I know it will make her really happy.

“222 East 10th Street.

New York. Nov. 8th. 68.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

I enclose two letters which you can read and forward respectivelyrespectively to ‘Mr. H. 69 Jermyn Street, S.W.’ and to ‘Sam. Laurence, Esq. 6 Wells Street, W.’ Don’t transpose them!

I’ve attached two letters for you to read and send to ‘Mr. H. 69 Jermyn Street, S.W.’ and to ‘Sam. Laurence, Esq. 6 Wells Street, W.’ Make sure you don’t mix them up!

I have now got fairly settled in my new abode, and am really very comfortable in it,—thanks to Alice. Our rooms are so situated 206that we can keep quite to ourselves,—having even a back staircase almost of our own,—and we get on famously. My daily routine is pretty regular throughout the week. I go to the dissecting room at 9 a.m. and work till about 11.15. At 11.30 comes a lecture on Anatomy and Physiology on alternate days,—and I get home to lunch a little before one. Alice always has things ready and nice for me, and I rest for about half an hour after lunch, before going to the afternoon lectures which begin at 2 p.m. and continue (except on Saturday) till 5,—three lectures of an hour each. I have just put in a petition to Dr. Emily Blackwell (who manages everything and is very nice) for five minutes space between each two lectures, for opening windows and a walk up and down the corridors,—to which she instantly assented as desirable.

I've settled into my new place pretty well, and I'm really comfortable here, thanks to Alice. Our rooms are arranged in a way that allows us to have our privacy—we even have a back staircase that's almost just for us—and we get along great. My daily routine is quite regular during the week. I head to the dissecting room at 9 a.m. and work until about 11:15. At 11:30, I have a lecture on Anatomy and Physiology every other day, and I get home for lunch a little before 1. Alice always has everything prepared nicely for me, and I relax for about half an hour after lunch before heading to the afternoon lectures, which start at 2 p.m. and go on (except on Saturday) until 5—three lectures of an hour each. I just submitted a request to Dr. Emily Blackwell (who oversees everything and is really nice) for a five-minute break between each pair of lectures to open the windows and take a quick walk down the corridors, and she promptly agreed that it was a good idea.

Pleasant as it was to live with the Doctor, and extremely grateful as I feel for the very great good she has done me, I confess now to rather enjoying a completely independent nest once more,—for a while at least. You see it was inevitable that at Boston everything had to be shaped to suit Hospital work, and that was sometimes a nuisance.

Pleasant as it was to live with the Doctor, and really grateful for all the good she has done for me, I have to admit that I’m actually enjoying having my own space again—at least for a little while. You see, everything in Boston had to revolve around Hospital work, and that could be a hassle at times.

I can study and write and read in a much more thoroughly undisturbed way here than I could there,—in fact it would have been simply impossible while living there to work as I am doing now,—there were so very many inevitable interruptions.

I can study, write, and read here with a lot less disruption than I could there—in fact, it would have been completely impossible to work the way I am now while living there—there were just too many unavoidable interruptions.

And yet, but for my two years there, I never could have been strong enough for my work here,—I believe that I never was so strong in my life before—isn’t that grand?”

And yet, without my two years there, I never would have been strong enough for my work here—I believe I've never been this strong in my life before—isn't that amazing?

“222 East 10th Street,

Nov. 13th. 1868.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

Yesterday your letter (containing the one from the Times agent) was brought to me in the dissecting-room, and wasn’t I pleased to get it!... It is quaint sometimes to think of the different scenes in which letters are written and read! I am really very much grieved to hear of Daddy’s having been so ill,—I did not understand fully before how serious his attack had been. I comfort myself, however, with hoping that while the news is coming here, he is really getting better daily. Give him much love from me and a big kiss on each cheek.... I hope my old lady takes care of herself. Do for my sake.

Yesterday, your letter (which included the one from the Times agent) was brought to me in the lab, and I was so happy to receive it!... It’s kind of interesting to think about the different places where letters are written and read! I'm really upset to hear that Dad has been so sick—I didn’t fully realize before how serious his illness had been. However, I comfort myself with the hope that while the news is arriving here, he is actually getting better each day. Please send him lots of love from me and a big kiss on each cheek.... I hope my old lady takes care of herself. Do it for my sake.

Darling, I ought sooner to have answered your enquiries about the Colleges, etc. Harvard (Boston) is a University for men, and we couldn’t get in there, because they wouldn’t have any women. I was anxious to go there because the degree is considered a valuable one. Here in New York the College I am at is just opened by Dr. 207Elizabeth Blackwell for women only,—or at least only women attend it, though I believe men would be admitted.

Darling, I should have answered your questions about the colleges sooner. Harvard (in Boston) is a university for men, and we couldn’t get in because they don’t accept women. I was eager to go there because their degree is highly regarded. Here in New York, the college I'm attending was just opened by Dr. 207 Elizabeth Blackwell, exclusively for women—though I think men would be allowed to attend as well.

The teachers are 9 in number,—7 men and 2 women professors, as you will see by the circular. In the actual classes we are all women students; in going to hospitals, dispensaries, etc., we mix with the men. The teaching is really very good and I am getting on capitally.

The teachers are 9 in total—7 men and 2 women professors, as you can see in the circular. In the actual classes, we’re all women students; when we go to hospitals, dispensaries, etc., we mix with the men. The teaching is really great, and I'm doing really well.

Capitally in every way indeed....

Absolutely in every way indeed....

I see it is now a little past nine, and I shall soon be off to bed and sleep like a top till about 6 a.m.

I see it’s just a bit past nine, and I’ll be heading to bed soon to sleep soundly until around 6 a.m.

I have never worked so hard in my life (for a continuance), and I have never been in such good health. I am absolutely well, (and what a blessing that is after all these years!) I eat and walk and sleep perfectly, have no pains and aches, and the sweetest of tempers!

I have never worked so hard in my life (for a continuance), and I have never been in such good health. I am absolutely well, (and what a blessing that is after all these years!) I eat, walk, and sleep perfectly, have no pains or aches, and the sweetest of temperaments!

I only wish Mother could peep in and see me in my little den!—dog and Alice and all.

I just wish Mom could peek in and see me in my little space!—dog and Alice and all.

With very much love, darling, to Daddy and Carry,

With a lot of love, babe, to Dad and Carry,

Yours lovingly,

Soph.”

“Saturday. Nov. 14th. [Diary.] In sober fact I get on grandly. Better and stronger than I have ever been.”

“Saturday, Nov. 14th. [Diary.] Honestly, I'm doing great. I feel better and stronger than I ever have.”

“Monday, Nov. 16th. Oh, why, why didn’t they telegraph at any rate? If people only would do as they are asked! Carry’s note just come after Chemistry. ‘I believe if you could start from New York today, you would have no prospect whatever of seeing him alive’.”

“Monday, Nov. 16th. Oh, why, why didn’t they send a telegram at least? If only people would just do what they’re asked! Carry’s note just arrived after Chemistry class. ‘I believe if you could leave New York today, you wouldn’t have any chance of seeing him alive’.”

“Sunday, Nov. 29th. Brighton. Reached home about 10.30 a.m. yesterday (after a rush through Dublin, Cork, etc.) to find that he had died ten days even before that letter arrived. Nov. 6th. 9.50 a.m.”

“Sunday, Nov. 29th. Brighton. I got home around 10:30 a.m. yesterday (after hurrying through Dublin, Cork, etc.) to find out that he had died ten days before that letter arrived. Nov. 6th. 9:50 a.m.”

It seems a pity for her own sake that S. J.-B. could not have been with her Father during those last days of his life, for his was certainly one of the cases in which

It seems unfortunate for her that S. J.-B. couldn't be with her Father during those last days of his life, because his was definitely one of those situations in which

“The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,

Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.”

It is no very uncommon experience to see people go through their last illness without a word of complaint, but Mr. Jex-Blake rose to a higher level than that. He had felt the end approaching for some months, and had set his house in perfect order, even to the refinement of writing farewell letters—beautiful letters they are—to be delivered to those nearest 208him after he had left them. There was nothing now to be done save to gather himself together for the great ordination of death. “I suppose this is about as bad as can be,” he said to the surgeon who attended him. “Nothing more can be done, I take it.”

It’s not uncommon to see people go through their final illness without complaining, but Mr. Jex-Blake was on a different level. He had sensed the end coming for a few months and had organized everything perfectly, even going so far as to write farewell letters—beautiful letters—that were to be given to those closest to him after he was gone. There was nothing left to do now except prepare himself for the final ceremony of death. “I guess this is about as bad as it gets,” he told the surgeon taking care of him. “I assume there’s nothing more to be done, right?” 208

One complaint he did make in the early days of his illness,—that he “could not collect his thoughts to pray,”—he whose “whole life,” in the words of his son, “had been a prayer and thanksgiving.” It was a great joy and comfort to have that son at hand. “I am very happy, very comfortable,” he said. “You cannot tell how happy I am.... God is so good to me.”

One complaint he had in the early days of his illness was that he “could not focus his thoughts to pray,” even though his “whole life,” as his son put it, “had been a prayer and thanksgiving.” It brought him great joy and comfort to have that son nearby. “I am very happy, very comfortable,” he said. “You can’t imagine how happy I am.... God is so good to me.”

When the end drew near, he wanted to be lifted out of bed, but they dared not move him, except as to pillows. About 11.30 Mr. H. [the surgeon] moved him a little in bed, and he said, “Beautiful, beautiful,” and never spoke again.

When the end was near, he wanted to be lifted out of bed, but they didn’t dare move him, except to adjust his pillows. Around 11:30, Mr. H. [the surgeon] shifted him a bit in bed, and he said, “Beautiful, beautiful,” and never spoke again.

One can imagine the feelings with which his ardent wayward “youngest little one” arrived in England to hear all this, and to hear it through the transfiguring medium of bereaved affection. With passionate intensity she recalls every detail of the parting which had so lingered in her mind, and which had proved to be the last:

One can imagine the emotions that his passionate, rebellious "youngest kid" experienced when she arrived in England to hear all of this, especially hearing it through the lens of lost love. With intense passion, she remembers every detail of the farewell that had stayed in her thoughts and turned out to be the final one:

“He had not risen. I went and lay on the bed by him and kissed him, and he told me how they had enjoyed having me,—‘never had so pleasant a summer together,’ etc.

“He hadn’t gotten up. I went and lay on the bed next to him and kissed him, and he told me how much they had enjoyed having me—‘never had such a pleasant summer together,’ etc.

I said I had tried hard and yet I hadn’t fully succeeded. I was sorry I had been cross sometimes. ‘No, no,’ he said, stopping me, ‘I hadn’t failed,—there was nothing to forgive.’ And then I told him I would try and do them credit in my profession, and then he took my hands in his and prayed for me. And then I kissed him again and got off the bed,—but he (very unlike him) sprang out after me and embraced me again and again,—and so we parted very lovingly,—I telling him, I think, that ‘next time’ it should be all right. And so, please God, it shall,—if there is a God and a ‘next time’!”

I said I had tried hard, but I still hadn’t fully succeeded. I felt bad for being upset sometimes. “No, no,” he said, stopping me, “I didn’t fail—there’s nothing to forgive.” Then I told him I would try to make them proud in my career, and he took my hands in his and prayed for me. I kissed him again and got off the bed, but he (very unlike him) jumped up after me and hugged me again and again. We parted very affectionately, and I told him, I think, that “next time” it would be all right. And so, please God, it will be—if there is a God and a “next time!”

In the darkest hour she admitted that it might have been worse: it might have been her Mother who was taken. One could almost have foretold how she would act. Cancelling 209the golden prospects in America with a stroke of her pen,—cheerfully sacrificing the very considerable financial outlay,—the class fees, the “snug little nest,” and “two barrels of potatoes,”—she resolved that never again should the Atlantic divide her from the life that was most dear.

In her darkest hour, she admitted that it could have been worse: it could have been her mother who was taken. One could almost predict how she would respond. With a stroke of her pen, she canceled her bright prospects in America—happily sacrificing the significant financial investment—the class fees, the “cozy little nest,” and “two barrels of potatoes”—deciding that the Atlantic would never again separate her from the life she held most dear.

It was not easy for Dr. Sewall to let her go thus finally, and her first letters are not a little pathetic, but—born friend of heroes as she was—she helped to fasten the armour on.

It wasn't easy for Dr. Sewall to say goodbye like that in the end, and her initial letters are quite touching, but—being a true friend of heroes as she was—she helped to put on the armor.

“If you don’t come back to America,” she said, “you won’t give up the work. You will open the profession to women in England.”

“If you don’t return to America,” she said, “you won’t give up the work. You’ll open the profession to women in England.”

And so it came about that Sophia Jex-Blake sought a medical education in her native land.

And so it happened that Sophia Jex-Blake pursued a medical education in her home country.

211

PART II

212

It is as hard a thing to maintain a sound understanding, a tender conscience, a lively, gracious, heavenly frame of spirit, and an upright life, amid contention, as it is to keep your candle lighted in the greatest storms.

It’s just as difficult to keep a clear mind, a caring conscience, a vibrant, graceful, heavenly spirit, and a moral life amidst conflict as it is to keep your candle lit during the strongest storms.

Richard Baxter.

Individuals, feeling strongly, while on the one hand they are incidentally faulty in mode or language, are still peculiarly effective. No great work was done by a system; whereas systems rise out of individual exertions. Luther was an individual. 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.

People, though they may sometimes make mistakes in how they express themselves, can still be incredibly effective. No major achievement comes from a system; rather, systems emerge from the efforts of individuals. Luther was one such individual. The very flaws of a person attract attention; they might lose, but if their cause is just and they are strong-willed, their cause benefits. This is how things work; we advance truth through self-sacrifice.

John Henry Newman.

213

CHAPTER I
DRIFTING

S.J.-B. landed at Queenstown on November 27th, 1868, and “came rushing through Cork, Dublin and Holyhead on that weary 24 hours’ journey” back to the home in Brighton, to find that she had arrived too late. Her Father had died some three weeks before, and outwardly the household had already settled down to the old life—as households do—in a way that to her ardent nature must at first have seemed passing strange. There was the joy and pain of meeting her Mother again,—the joy and pain of finding that that Mother was too fine a Christian to be broken-hearted at the prospect of so brief a parting,—and then, little by little, there came for S.J.-B. the realization of all she had left behind.

S.J.-B. arrived in Queenstown on November 27, 1868, and “came rushing through Cork, Dublin, and Holyhead on that exhausting 24-hour journey” back home to Brighton, only to find that she had gotten there too late. Her father had passed away about three weeks earlier, and on the surface, the household had already returned to its usual routine—as households do—in a way that must have seemed quite strange to her passionate nature at first. There was both joy and sorrow in reuniting with her mother—the joy and sorrow in realizing that her mother was strong enough in her faith not to be heartbroken over such a short separation—and then, gradually, S.J.-B. began to understand everything she had left behind.

On board the Java she had written to Dr. Sewall:

On the Java, she had written to Dr. Sewall:

“The first thing of all I want to do is to write and tell you what I said so very imperfectly in my hurry and worry when you left,—how much your kind thought for me in arranging even the little things of my cabin has touched me.... Even now when I am going home—and going under such circumstances—the thought of all you have done for me and of all I owe you, comes uppermost....

“The first thing I want to do is write and tell you what I said so poorly in my hurry and worry when you left — how much your thoughtfulness in taking care of even the small things in my cabin means to me... Even now, as I’m heading home — and under such circumstances — the thought of everything you’ve done for me and all I owe you is all I can think about...”

Mrs. Browning says,—

Mrs. Browning says—

‘God gives what he gives—be content,

He resumes nothing given, be sure,’

and your love and help have been given to me, and I know it is not all over now....

and your love and support have been given to me, and I know it’s not all over now....

I am going home now to try and be a child once more,—simply to love and serve my Mother, as God will help me (for I do believe in Him in my pain and my love in my heart of hearts) and I believe that by being a child I shall learn to grow a better woman.”

I’m heading home now to try to be a kid again—just to love and care for my mom, with God’s help (because I really do believe in Him through my pain and the love that’s deep in my heart) and I think that by being a child, I’ll learn to become a better woman.

214Such was her resolve, and for months she struggled hard to carry it out, with no small success when one considers the complexity of the elements involved. She had come from a busy bustling beneficent life, with an outlook that appealed keenly to her energetic and ambitious nature, and she found herself in the quiet, smoothly-ordered home of her childhood, where she was only “Miss Sophy,” where her medical books and microscope slides were roughly classified as “nasty,” and where she was expected to conform to a rule of life which had never given scope to her possibilities, and was little likely to do so now that all its music was set in a minor key. The free life in America had developed her capabilities; quite possibly it had also rubbed off some few of those superficial elegancies that were regarded as a primary essential in the Englishwoman of her class.

214That was her determination, and for months, she worked hard to make it happen, achieving considerable success, especially given the complexities involved. She had come from a lively, generous life that matched her energetic and ambitious spirit, and now she found herself in the calm, orderly home of her childhood, where she was seen only as “Miss Sophy.” Her medical books and microscope slides were haphazardly labeled as “nasty,” and she was expected to fit into a lifestyle that never allowed her talents to flourish, and was unlikely to do so now that everything felt so somber. The freedom she experienced in America had enhanced her abilities; it may have also stripped away some of the superficial refinements considered essential for Englishwomen of her class.

There was another side to the question too. Glad as Mrs. Jex-Blake always was to see her “youngest little one” again, one can imagine that in the circumstances so electrical a presence in the house was not an unmixed boon. “I had much rather know you well and happy there [in Boston] than see you ill and know you worried here,” the Mother had written years before, and there is no reason to think that her feeling in the matter had changed. Nothing could alter the deep undercurrent of love and understanding between this Mother and child, but neither of them had a naturally equable temperament, and one gathers that on the surface things were not always smooth.

There was another aspect to the situation as well. While Mrs. Jex-Blake was always happy to see her “youngest little one” again, it’s easy to imagine that, given the circumstances, such a lively presence in the house wasn't entirely a blessing. “I would much rather know you well and happy there [in Boston] than see you unwell and know you’re worried here,” the Mother had written years ago, and there’s no reason to think her feelings on the matter had changed. Nothing could change the deep bond of love and understanding between this Mother and child, but neither of them had a naturally calm temperament, and it seems that on the surface, things were not always peaceful.

“Poor little woman,” S.J.-B. writes to Dr. Sewall, on receipt of the first letter from Boston, “I do feel so sorry for you all alone and dreary, but don’t you think I am even worse off than you are? You can fancy what this house is now,—so silent and mourning,—and so much cut off even from outside, and at any rate no people or work or occupation of any interest outside ourselves.

“Poor little woman,” S.J.-B. writes to Dr. Sewall, upon receiving the first letter from Boston, “I feel really sorry for you being all alone and feeling down, but don’t you think I’m even worse off than you? Just imagine what this house is like now—so silent and sorrowful—and so isolated from the outside world. There aren’t even any people or activities that interest us outside of ourselves.”

M. and C. have their regular ways and plans, I suppose, but it is so long since I have been at home except for a visit, that it’s hard for me to fit in anywhere, and of course everybody’s feeling more or less sad and pained doesn’t make matters smoother. Just at present I am getting my books and drawers, etc., to rights, and after that is done I mean to try and read some Medicine at least,—perhaps 215if we stay here all winter I may apply to visit at the Hospital, etc.—only it would be rather disagreeable all alone.

M. and C. have their usual routines and plans, I guess, but since it's been so long since I've really been home, except for short visits, it’s tough for me to adjust. Plus, with everyone feeling sad and hurt, it doesn’t help. Right now, I’m organizing my books and drawers, and once that’s done, I intend to try to study some Medicine at least—maybe if we stay here all winter, I could ask to visit the Hospital, etc.—although it would be pretty unpleasant to do it by myself.

Oh, Lucy dear, I do think it’s too bad to be expected to go on with Medicine, and not have you to help and interest me in it. If I didn’t believe you would after all come and start me in practice when I do get through, I don’t think I should have any heart to go on at all. But we will be together again some day, old lady, won’t we? Oh, dear, I am getting so tired of living and fighting and hoping! As soon as one hopes one has got a little foothold it is all knocked away from under one!”

Oh, Lucy, I really think it’s unfair to expect me to keep going with Medicine without you to support and inspire me. If I didn't believe that you would eventually come and help me start my practice when I finish, I don't think I would have the motivation to carry on at all. But we will be together again someday, won’t we? Oh, I’m just so tired of living and struggling and hoping! Just when I feel like I’ve finally gained some ground, it all gets taken away from me!

The letter then plunges into the question of money and accounts, which were not Dr. Sewall’s strong point.

The letter then dives into the issue of money and accounts, which weren't Dr. Sewall's strong suit.

“Poor little girl!—she has so many accounts, and I am dreadfully afraid she will get into a dreadful mess with them all! Do tell me if you got your accounts anything like straight after New York.”

“Poor little girl!—she has so many accounts, and I’m really worried she’s going to get into a huge mess with them all! Please let me know if you managed to straighten out your accounts at all after New York.”

Dr. Sewall was overwhelmed with work, but her letters came as fast and frequently as mails could bring them. “I do hope you do not miss me as much as I miss you,” she wrote, and again:

Dr. Sewall was swamped with work, but her letters arrived quickly and often, just as the mail could deliver them. “I really hope you don’t miss me as much as I miss you,” she wrote, and again:

“I do hope this New Year that begins so sadly may not be a very hard one for you, though I fear you will have to fight hard before you can settle down at home. Do try to get some visiting at the Hospital or some medical work as soon as you can. It will do you good and your Mother too.”

“I really hope this New Year, which starts off so sadly, won't be too tough for you, even though I worry you'll have to struggle before you can relax at home. Please try to visit the Hospital or get involved in some medical work as soon as possible. It will be good for you and your Mom too.”

But she too, when it comes to a question of “business,” relapses delightfully into the child. “Do say you are contented with me, and that I have done well.”

But she also, when it’s a matter of “business,” joyfully falls back into being a child. “Please say you’re happy with me, and that I’ve done well.”

For three weeks S.J.-B. drifted, uncertain of her course, and then she set her sail.

For three weeks, S.J.-B. wandered aimlessly, unsure of her direction, and then she set her sail.

“Today—after three weeks of doubt, indecision and rather negation—I was suddenly inspired to get up out of the dining-room arm-chair, walk to the Hospital, and ask Mr. Salzmann to read Medicine with me,—so Thursday and seq.—Histology!

“Today—after three weeks of doubt, indecision, and quite a bit of negativity—I suddenly felt inspired to get up from the dining-room armchair, walk to the hospital, and ask Mr. Salzmann to study medicine with me,—so Thursday and onwards—Histology!”

It’s quite odd how pleased I am at the prospect of ‘shop’!”

It’s really strange how happy I am about the idea of ‘shop’!”

On the last night of the year, as was her wont, she made her summing-up:

On New Year’s Eve, as was her custom, she reflected on the past year:

“Within a few hours of eight years ago,—the window,—and

‘May the New Year cherish—’

216I don’t think there are any ‘hopes that now are bright.’ I believe I have been growing downwards in some ways. The simply quiet and comfortable, with no bother of any kind, seems to be about my ideal now.”

216I don’t think there are any ‘hopes that now are bright.’ I believe I have been growing downwards in some ways. The simply quiet and comfortable, with no hassle of any kind, seems to be my ideal now.”

And this on the eve of the ‘Edinburgh Fight’!

And this is happening on the eve of the 'Edinburgh Fight'!

The truth is S. J.-B. was in one of those backwaters of life which may at any moment give place to the swift rush of the current. She was living a great deal, of course, in the life she had left behind. On January 4th she writes to Dr. Sewall:

The truth is S. J.-B. was in one of those remote areas of life that could be suddenly swept away by the fast flow of the current. She was heavily invested in the life she had moved on from. On January 4th, she writes to Dr. Sewall:

“When I find time I mean to write to your cousin.... I am sorry for W., he is a very nice boy. But, dear me, they do seem such a pair of children.

“When I find time, I plan to write to your cousin.... I feel sorry for W.; he's a really nice guy. But, oh dear, they do seem like such a couple of kids.”

I don’t think she will get a nicer man, but of course that is nothing if she doesn’t love him. I quite agree with you, ‘Never marry if you can help it’!”

I don’t think she will find a better man, but of course that doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love him. I totally agree with you, ‘Never marry if you can avoid it!’”

And, in the depths of her mind she was constantly pondering the problems and mysteries of our being.

And deep down in her mind, she was always thinking about the problems and mysteries of our existence.

“Jan. 21st. [Diary] 29!—‘et praeterea nihil’!”

“Jan. 21st. [Diary] 29!—"and nothing else"!”

“Jan. 25th.... Yesterday Martineau’s fine definition of atheism,—the mind that venerates nothing, aspires to nothing.”

“Jan. 25th.... Yesterday, Martineau offered a great definition of atheism: the mind that honors nothing and strives for nothing.”

“Jan. 31st. Came tonight across old Trench’s line,—‘When God afflicts thee think He hews a rugged stone, which must be shaped or else aside as useless thrown.’

“Jan. 31st. Came across old Trench’s line tonight,—‘When God puts you through tough times, think of it as Him shaping a rough stone that needs to be crafted, or else it will be cast aside as useless.’”

And then those true sad pale lines of Martineau’s (‘Child’s Thought’) about youth’s eagerness for truth, sometimes productive of dark agonies of doubt and loneliness drearier than death,—leaving the soul exposed upon the field of conflict without a God to strive for or a weapon for the fight.

And then those truly sorrowful pale lines from Martineau’s (‘Child’s Thought’) about how eager youth is for truth, which can sometimes lead to deep feelings of doubt and loneliness that are even more unpleasant than death—leaving the soul vulnerable on the battlefield without a God to fight for or any tools for the struggle.

Yesterday his ‘Immortality’ helped me again to seize that idea,—apprehend, ‘hang on to’ (Trench). That the negative testimony was stronger for than against—far harder to realize soul extinct than immortal,—that instinct for immortality grows stronger in sorrow, bereavements and on confines of death,—more likely teachers than the dust and glare of Vanity Fair. That the strange ‘caprice of death’ in selection, etc., inexplicable except in belief of future to which this is the ante-chamber. ‘Simply migrations of mind.’”

Yesterday, his ‘Immortality’ helped me again to grasp that idea — to understand and hold on to it. The negative evidence is more convincing in favor than against it; it’s much harder to believe that the soul is dead than that it lives on. That instinct for immortality grows stronger in times of sorrow, loss, and at the edge of death — these are more likely to be teachers than the superficiality of Vanity Fair. The odd ‘whim of death’ in the way it chooses, etc., is only explainable through the belief in a future that this life prepares us for. ‘Simply migrations of mind.’”

Of course the outward stagnation of life, the want of a definite object and purpose, renewed the old regrets for the friendship by means of which “we might have done anything together, we two.”

Of course, the outward stagnation of life, the lack of a clear goal and purpose, brought back the old regrets about the friendship through which “we could have accomplished anything together, just the two of us.”

217

“Feb. 3rd. 4 p.m.

Feb. 3, 4 PM

‘Are not the letters coming?

The sun has almost set.’

I seem to have two such abiding ideas (presentiments?—hopes?) 1st. That somehow, somewhen the old door must be reopened,—light in the eventide,... 2nd. That some medical way will open—perhaps in Scotland,—and at length some one take pity on me and really teach me and push me.

I seem to have two lingering thoughts (feelings?—wishes?) 1st. That somehow, someday the old door must be reopened,—light in the evening,... 2nd. That some medical opportunity will arise—maybe in Scotland,—and finally someone will take pity on me and truly teach me and support me.

Oh, dear, how I wish I had anyone with whom I could really take counsel and make common cause.

Oh, how I wish I had someone I could truly talk to and team up with.

Well, I believe I am learning silence and patience at least somewhat, but how ‘bleak and bare’! Everything so grey and so dim.

Well, I think I'm at least starting to learn about silence and patience, but everything feels so bleak and empty! Everything is so gray and so dull.

Feb. 4th. In the night I woke and found M.’s head was ‘dreadful.’ So I laid one hand on her forehead and one on her hand and willed and willed the pain away,—till she slept quietly.

Feb. 4th. In the night, I woke up and found that M.’s head was 'really bad.' So I placed one hand on her forehead and one on her hand, and I focused my energy to will the pain away—until she slept peacefully.

Curious how weary and achy that arm was even next morning,—how ‘washed out’ I was!

Curious how tired and sore that arm was even the next morning—how drained I felt!

She says,—‘How do you explain it?’

She says, “How do you explain that?”

‘Nohow.’”

‘No way.’”

218

CHAPTER II
AT THE GATES OF THE CITADEL

In any case S. J.-B. was not to wait long for those “with whom she could take counsel.” In the autumn of 1867 Mr. Alexander Macmillan appears to have discussed with her the projected publication of a volume of essays on questions relating to modern women, and in January 1869 he writes in answer to an enquiry from her:

In any case, S. J.-B. didn’t have to wait long for those “with whom she could seek advice.” In the autumn of 1867, Mr. Alexander Macmillan seems to have talked with her about the planned publication of a collection of essays on issues concerning modern women, and in January 1869, he writes in response to an inquiry from her:

“Dear Madam,

"Dear Ma'am,"

Mrs. Butler, 280 South Hill Park Road, Liverpool, is the address. There has been nothing done about the proposed volume yet. But I have by no means abandoned the hope of having it done, and shall not be sorry if you allude to it in writing to Mrs. Butler.

Mrs. Butler, 280 South Hill Park Road, Liverpool, is the address. Nothing has been done about the proposed volume yet. However, I’m not giving up hope that it will be done, and I won't mind if you mention it in your letter to Mrs. Butler.

My own notion was that the volume should be wholly written by ladies, and that some diversity of judgement should be allowed on minor points at least, provided that a consensus were assured on the large ground of higher culture for women. I confess myself that the question of the Suffrage is a doubtful one.... I confess myself to think that politics in the sense of mere government is by no means of the highest importance to nations and to humanity, and that what is done in homes is incalculably deeper and more powerful [in its influence] on human character and destiny.

My idea was that the book should be completely written by women, and that there should be some allowance for differing opinions on minor issues, as long as there was agreement on the broader idea of advancing women's education. I admit that I find the issue of suffrage to be uncertain... I believe that politics, in terms of just governance, is not nearly as important to nations and humanity compared to what happens in homes, which has a far deeper and more significant impact on human character and fate.

All these points are open to discussion, and I think a volume claiming the very highest and widest culture for women might at the same time discuss with advantage whether the field in which it is to be exercised need be co-ordinate with men’s.

All these points are up for discussion, and I believe a book that asserts the utmost and broadest culture for women could also benefit from examining whether the area in which it is to be practiced needs to align with men's.

Yours very truly,

Alex. Macmillan.”

Apparently S. J.-B. approached Mrs. Butler without delay, and a few weeks later she writes to Dr. Sewall from Bonchurch, 219where they were staying for the benefit of Mrs. Jex-Blake’s health:

Apparently S. J.-B. contacted Mrs. Butler right away, and a few weeks later she writes to Dr. Sewall from Bonchurch, 219 where they were staying to help improve Mrs. Jex-Blake’s health:

“Did I tell you that I have been making friends with Mrs. Butler, the head of the non-Davies party among the women? She approves of the new Cambridge exams, which Miss Davies ... refuses because not identical with those of the men. Mrs. Butler and I say ‘Take all you can get and then ask for more,’ don’t you?

“Did I mention that I've been getting friendly with Mrs. Butler, the leader of the non-Davies group among the women? She supports the new Cambridge exams, which Miss Davies opposes because they aren't the same as the men's. Mrs. Butler and I agree, ‘Take all you can get and then ask for more,’ right?”

I expect to be here with my Mother for about three weeks longer, then she will probably go to Cheltenham to see my brother, and I may go to Cambridge, Edinburgh, St. Andrews, etc., to see if I can poke in anywhere.

I plan to be here with my mom for about three weeks more. After that, she'll probably head to Cheltenham to visit my brother, and I might go to Cambridge, Edinburgh, St. Andrews, etc., to see if I can find a place to stay.

And yet, even if I got admitted, I don’t feel sure that I should feel ready to leave my Mother next winter. Unless she changes very much for the better, I cannot but think very badly of her. I think she has aged five years since you saw her....

And yet, even if I get accepted, I’m not sure I’ll be ready to leave my mom next winter. Unless she improves significantly, I can’t help but think poorly of her. I think she’s aged five years since you last saw her...

She said to me yesterday, ‘Don’t you wish Dr. Lucy were here?’ I said, ‘No, she’s doing better work,’ but I do sometimes ‘weary for you’ all the same.”

She told me yesterday, “Don’t you wish Dr. Lucy was here?” I replied, “No, she’s doing more important work,” but I do sometimes miss you all the same.”

Mrs. Butler was deeply interested in the new ally, and very anxious that she should carry out her dream of obtaining a proper medical education in her own country. Dr. T. W. Jex-Blake was also sympathetic, and so it came about that enquiries were made among University professors who might be supposed to have an open mind on the subject. Some interesting letters were the result:

Mrs. Butler was really interested in the new ally and really hoped she would achieve her dream of getting a proper medical education in her own country. Dr. T. W. Jex-Blake was also supportive, which led to inquiries being made among university professors who might have a progressive view on the topic. Some interesting letters came from this:

“Wimborne,

Jan. 14th.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I have not been able to obtain quite as accurate information about London University as I should like, but there is no use in my delaying any longer to answer your letter. As regards Cambridge, I do not think that the most sanguine reformer would advise you to look for any relaxation of barriers that would be of service to you, for some years. I am among the most sanguine, and I do not think that we shall be giving degrees to women until after ten years at least. We do not as yet examine men unless resident in colleges. The University of London, which is an open examining board, ought to be much more hopeful. Unfortunately this university (by an arrangement which ought not to have been borrowed from its older sisters) is governed in the last resort by Convocation, an assembly got together by agitation among all graduates of a certain standard, and in which the influence of the London doctors is practically 220preponderant. This assembly rejected last year a proposal by which women would have been admitted to medical degrees.

I haven't been able to get as accurate information about London University as I would like, but there's no point in delaying my response to your letter any longer. As for Cambridge, I don't think even the most optimistic reformer would suggest that you should expect any easing of barriers that would be helpful to you for several years. I'm one of the more optimistic people, and I don't believe we'll be awarding degrees to women for at least another ten years. We still don't examine men unless they're residing in colleges. The University of London, which is an open examining board, should be a bit more promising. Unfortunately, this university (due to an arrangement that should not have been copied from its older counterparts) is ultimately governed by Convocation, a gathering formed through the lobbying of all graduates of a certain standard, where the influence of the London doctors is dominant. This assembly rejected a proposal last year that would have allowed women to be admitted to medical degrees.

The proposal will, I believe, be renewed, but I cannot say what reason there is to anticipate a different result. My information is only at second hand, and you may easily get more accurate in London. As soon as I hear more precisely what is going to be done, I will let you know. I cannot, from what I have heard advise you to expect a very speedy change.

The proposal will, I think, be renewed, but I can’t say why we should expect a different outcome. My information is only secondhand, and you can likely find more accurate details in London. As soon as I learn more about what’s going to happen, I’ll let you know. Based on what I’ve heard, I can’t advise you to expect a quick change.

At the same time there is a general movement, of which it is hard to estimate the force, against the exclusion of women from the higher education. You say that you do not wish your plans to be talked of. I am rather sorry, for if you would suffer yourself to be made a grievance, it might help ‘the cause’ in London.

At the same time, there’s a growing movement that's hard to measure, pushing against the exclusion of women from higher education. You say you don’t want your plans to be discussed. I’m a bit disappointed because if you allowed yourself to be seen as a victim, it could benefit 'the cause' in London.

Believe me,
Yours very truly,
Henry Sidgwick.”

“Trin. Coll. Cambridge.

Feb. 4th.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I have now been here nearly a week, and hoped to write to you before, but I wished before doing so to see Markby, Bonney, and one or two of the Medical Board, and, being overwhelmed with work, have only just managed to do so. I find that neither Markby nor Bonney estimate any higher than I do the chance of your request being granted. Professor Liveing, one of the members of the Board, is favourable, but shakes his head as to his colleagues. Doctors preponderate on it, and one, Dr. Humphrey, professor of Anatomy, whom I expected to find somewhat more liberal, is averse to women practising medicine, ‘mainly on their own account, because’—but you are familiar with the reasons.

I've been here for almost a week now, and I wanted to write to you earlier, but I needed to meet with Markby, Bonney, and a couple of members of the Medical Board first. I've been swamped with work and just managed to do that. I’ve found that neither Markby nor Bonney have a higher opinion than I do regarding the chances of your request being approved. Professor Liveing, one of the Board members, is supportive, but he doubts his colleagues will agree. The doctors dominate the board, and one of them, Dr. Humphrey, a professor of Anatomy, whom I thought might be more open-minded, is against women practicing medicine, ‘mostly for their own reasons, because’—but you already know the reasons.

I have not canvassed the others as you had a certain wish for secrecy. If you think it worth while, I will ask Liveing to broach the question at the Board, without mentioning your name, in order to sound opinion: or I will in other ways ascertain privately the views of the members. I do not however feel that this would be decisive, as they may not have considered the question and might yield to argument. However I feel almost sure that your appeal would be rejected without much discussion. Markby is of opinion that even supposing the Board consented to propose the change to the Senate, that body would certainly reject it. And he (M.) is inclined to think that it would injure the cause of female education here in general, to stir up hostility in the Senate on this particular matter. (I do not myself feel sure of this.) But he does not think 221application to the Board would do any harm. Bonney also thinks this course hopeless but harmless.

I haven't talked to the others since you wanted to keep this private. If you think it’s worth it, I can ask Liveing to bring it up at the Board without mentioning your name, just to gauge their opinions. Or, I can find out privately what the members think in other ways. However, I'm not sure this would be conclusive since they might not have thought about the issue and could change their minds with some convincing. Still, I pretty much believe your request would be turned down without much debate. Markby believes that even if the Board agreed to suggest the change to the Senate, they would definitely reject it. He also thinks that pushing this issue could harm the overall cause of female education here by creating pushback in the Senate regarding this specific point. (I’m not entirely convinced of that myself.) But he thinks that applying to the Board wouldn’t hurt anything. Bonney feels that this approach is hopeless but not harmful.

Even after consent of the Board and the Senate, you would have to be admitted as member of some college; but in the case supposed, that would not cause much difficulty....

Even after getting approval from the Board and the Senate, you would still need to be accepted as a member of a college; but in the situation described, that wouldn't be too much of a problem....

I do not know whether you will think any thing more of us after this. If you do come to look for yourself at the ‘terrain,’ you will at any rate find a minority of sympathizers who will give you any aid in their power, among them

I don't know if you'll think any differently about us after this. If you do come to see the 'ground' for yourself, you'll at least find a few supporters who will offer you any help they can, including

Yours sincerely,

Henry Sidgwick.

P.S. You will see that, on reflection, I am somewhat doubtful of the advantage of making the application. On the whole, however, I still think it would be a good thing.”

P.S. After thinking it over, I have some doubts about the benefits of making the application. Still, I believe it would be a good idea overall.

Meanwhile Professor Masson of Edinburgh University had written a letter to Mrs. Butler, from which S. J.-B. quotes the following extract in her diary:

Meanwhile, Professor Masson of Edinburgh University wrote a letter to Mrs. Butler, from which S. J.-B. quotes the following excerpt in her diary:

“It will give me much pleasure to see Miss Jex-Blake (whose name is well known to me); Sir James Simpson will be very glad to see her also.... I fear however that at present the chance of the throwing open of professional education and degrees are not so great with us as Miss Blake seems to imagine” (!)—The exclamation point is S. J.-B.’s.—“But who knows what may happen or how soon?”

“It will be a real pleasure to see Miss Jex-Blake (a name I'm quite familiar with); Sir James Simpson will also be very pleased to see her.... However, I’m afraid that right now, the possibility of opening up professional education and degrees isn’t as promising as Miss Blake seems to think!”—The exclamation point is S. J.-B.’s.—“But who knows what might happen or how soon?”

On February 15th, S. J.-B. writes to Dr. Sewall:

“I think I may probably go to Cambridge and see whether there is the least chance of anything medical there. I have almost no hope, but it is thought well to apply at least to the Medical Board just for the principle of the thing. Then I may probably go to Edinburgh, St. Andrews, Glasgow, etc. I understand that Glasgow was expressly founded on the model of Bologna;—now Bologna admitted women!

"I think I might go to Cambridge to see if there's even the slightest chance of anything medical there. I have almost no hope, but it's considered a good idea to at least apply to the Medical Board just for the principle of it. Then I might also head to Edinburgh, St. Andrews, Glasgow, and so on. I hear that Glasgow was specifically modeled after Bologna; and Bologna admitted women!"

Did I tell you that there is to be a volume of Essays published in the summer about all sorts of Women’s questions, and I have been asked to write about the Medical question. If I do, I rather think I shall send you my essay to criticise first, shall I?... I wish very much that I could find some English lady to go in for Medicine with me,—it would be such a comfort in thundering at the Colleges, and in working afterwards. There is one very capable woman of about 30,—a thorough lady,—who is staying with us now, who would like extremely to study for many reasons, but is withheld by the great prejudice and very bad health of her mother.”

Did I mention that there’s going to be a collection of Essays published this summer on various Women’s issues? I’ve been asked to write about the Medical question. If I do, I think I’ll send you my essay to review first, okay? I really wish I could find an English woman to go into Medicine with me—it would be such a relief to have someone alongside while dealing with the Colleges and working afterwards. There’s a really capable woman, about 30—she’s a fantastic person—who’s staying with us now, and she would love to study for many reasons, but she’s held back by her mother’s strong prejudice and poor health.

222It was indeed a loss to the whole woman movement that Miss Ursula Du Pre was prevented from taking a more articulate part in it, for one tries in vain to think of one of her contemporaries who was more generously gifted by nature and circumstances. She had mental powers that would have fitted her to shine in almost any of the professions strictly preserved for the benefit of men, great common sense, a finely balanced judgment, and—what appealed to S. J.-B. perhaps more than anything else—a keen and unfailing sense of humour. Tact too she had, and the singular charm of the “great lady” who is at the same time one of the simple-hearted. Deeply religious throughout life, she was absolutely devoid of false humility and of the ultra-sensitiveness that would have rendered her gifts of small avail beyond her own circle. The accident of her sex set her free from the cares and responsibilities of the landowner; and one cannot wonder that S. J.-B. bitterly resented the unalterable decision of some members of her family that a medical career was out of the question.

222It was truly a loss to the entire women’s movement that Miss Ursula Du Pre couldn’t take a more active role in it, as it’s hard to think of anyone in her generation who was more naturally and circumstantially gifted. She had the mental abilities that would have allowed her to excel in nearly any profession exclusively reserved for men, along with great common sense, well-balanced judgment, and—what probably appealed to S. J.-B. more than anything—a sharp and consistent sense of humor. She was also tactful and had the unique charm of a "great lady" who was equally down-to-earth. Throughout her life, she was deeply religious but completely free of false humility and the extreme sensitivity that would have limited her talents to her own social circle. Being a woman freed her from the duties and burdens of a landowner; it’s no surprise that S. J.-B. was deeply upset by some of her family members’ firm belief that a medical career was off the table.

Nothing, however, can really rob the world of the usufruct of gifts like these. The influence of a man or woman can never be measured by the number of those who experience it at first hand. Who shall say whether it is better to have a thousand disciples, or twelve, or one?

Nothing, however, can truly take away the benefit of gifts like these. The impact of a person can never be measured by the number of those who experience it directly. Who can say if it's better to have a thousand followers, or twelve, or just one?

Mrs. Jex-Blake and Mrs. Du Pre had long been acquainted, but it was in this month of January 1869 that the two daughters first met and found each other. S. J.-B. brought much to the friendship, as the reader of the previous volume is aware; her gifts were great, her knowledge of life astonishingly wide for a young woman of her day; but she found no less than she brought. Never again could she complain of the lack of a friend “with whom she could take counsel.” All through the troublous times that were to follow so closely on the inception of their friendship, Miss Du Pre was her admiring critic, her confidante and counsellor, following every move in the complicated game, disapproving, perhaps, sometimes, but sympathising always. She was the friend too of S. J.-B.’s friends and comrades, and in the long days of hope deferred there were those who must surely 223have fallen in the breach but for Miss Du Pre’s material and spiritual aid.

Mrs. Jex-Blake and Mrs. Du Pre had known each other for a long time, but it was in January 1869 that their two daughters met for the first time and connected. S. J.-B. brought a lot to the friendship, as anyone who read the previous volume knows; her talents were significant, and her understanding of life was impressively broad for a young woman of her time. But she found just as much in return. She would never again have to complain about lacking a friend “with whom she could take counsel.” Throughout the challenging times that soon followed the start of their friendship, Miss Du Pre was her supportive critic, her confidante, and adviser, keeping up with every intricate move in the complicated situation, sometimes disapproving but always sympathetic. She was also the friend of S. J.-B.’s other friends and companions, and during the long periods of unfulfilled hopes, there were certainly those who would have struggled without Miss Du Pre’s tangible and emotional support.

Meanwhile S. J.-B. wrote the Essay on “Medicine as a Profession for Women,” which was published a few months later in the volume entitled Women’s Work and Women’s Culture. “Fairish, not quite satisfactory,” is her own verdict on the first draft, which was doubtless considerably improved by the suggestions of friendly critics. As the Essay appeared later in her book on Medical Women, it could scarcely be bettered, and indeed it has proved a storehouse of research and argument for all subsequent writers and speakers on the subject.

Meanwhile, S. J.-B. wrote the essay titled “Medicine as a Profession for Women,” which was published a few months later in the volume called Women’s Work and Women’s Culture. Her own verdict on the first draft was “fairish, not quite satisfactory,” but it was likely improved significantly by the suggestions of friendly critics. Since the essay later appeared in her book titled Medical Women, it couldn’t have been better, and it has actually become a valuable resource for research and argument for all subsequent writers and speakers on the topic.

Professor Newman, to whom Mrs. Butler sent the first draft, wrote an admirable letter:

Professor Newman, to whom Mrs. Butler sent the first draft, wrote an excellent letter:

“I have no learning in the history of female physicians, but I know that in my boyhood I read in a magazine an urgent remonstrance with ladies for their prejudice against man-midwives, of whom the writer speaks as a beneficent innovation. I think I have read that they were first used in the Court circle of Louis XIV.... To prove negatives is always hard, but I should not fear to write that the exclusion of women from acting as physicians to women is quite a modern usurpation by the male sex, and limited to the nations which cultivate modern science. The topic reminds me of the address of the nurse to Queen Phoedra in Euripides’ Hippolytus, when she observes her mistress to be wild and out of health,—‘If thy complaint be anything of a more secret kind, here are women at hand to compose the disease. But, if thy distress be such as may be told to males, tell it in order that it may be communicated to the physicians.’

“I don’t know much about the history of female doctors, but I remember reading in a magazine during my childhood a strong argument against women’s bias against male midwives, whom the writer described as a helpful innovation. I think I read that they were first used in the royal court of Louis XIV.... It’s always difficult to prove a negative, but I wouldn’t hesitate to say that the exclusion of women from being doctors for women is a fairly recent takeover by men, and it’s found in nations that embrace modern science. This topic makes me think of the nurse's speech to Queen Phaedra in Euripides’ Hippolytus, when she notices her mistress is distraught and unwell—‘If your issue is something more private, here are women available to help with it. But if your distress can be shared with men, then say it so it can be relayed to the doctors.’”

This is almost as if in no case would the male physician do more than give advice when the facts were reported to him through the women.

This is almost as if under no circumstances would the male doctor do more than offer advice when the details were conveyed to him through the women.

It is nearly so in Turkey to this day. A Pasha wanted advice for his wife from a friend of mine without his seeing her.”

It’s almost the same in Turkey even today. A Pasha wanted advice from a friend of mine about his wife without actually seeing her.

“Do quote Euripides in your Essay,” writes Mrs. Butler. “Never mind if we look a little more learned than we are. Let us spoil the Egyptians.”

“Do quote Euripides in your essay,” Mrs. Butler writes. “Don’t worry if we seem a bit more knowledgeable than we really are. Let’s outsmart the Egyptians.”

And again,—

“I am sure Mr. Newman intended you to use anything in his letter which you could make available. He is so generously helpful.”

“I’m sure Mr. Newman meant for you to use anything from his letter that you can. He’s really helpful.”

224On February 24th, S. J.-B. writes to Dr. Sewall:

“I have written the Essay I spoke of about Medical Women, and I shall send it to you to see in a week or two, as soon as I can get it copied. There are several points on which I want your authority and opinion;—tell me whenever you think I overstate facts or make mistakes—or tell me if you think I might put things more strongly with advantage. Tell me how many instances have occurred of men doctors putting their womankind under your treatment, or that of other women you know,—Dr. B., Dr. C., and J. W.?—any more?

"I've finished the essay I mentioned about women in medicine, and I’ll send it to you in a week or two as soon as I can get it copied. There are several points where I’d like your feedback; let me know if you think I’m overstating facts or making mistakes—or if you think I could express things more strongly for effect. Also, let me know how many times you know of male doctors referring their female patients to you or other women you know—like Dr. B., Dr. C., and J. W.? Any others?"

Also anything else that occurs to you generally.

Also, anything else that comes to mind generally.

I had a witty letter from Miss Putnam this morning, in which she says how very indifferent it is to her if Mrs. D. chooses to ‘invent Arabian Nights’ tales’ about her. I do hope that you have published her letter,—don’t simply disregard me because I’m across the Atlantic and can’t pinch you! She made me dreadfully envious by saying that she is going in for some months’ work at Operative Surgery, and that it will be ‘very jolly.’ I believe, however that for the summer at any rate I ought to stay with my Mother and try to make her very jolly (poor old darling!) If I can get into any of the Colleges for the winter, that may be another matter, though I am not sure.”

I received a clever letter from Miss Putnam this morning, in which she says she really doesn’t care if Mrs. D. chooses to make up 'Arabian Nights' stories about her. I really hope you’ve published her letter—don’t just ignore me because I’m across the Atlantic and can’t pinch you! She made me really envious by mentioning that she’s going to work on Operative Surgery for a few months, and she thinks it will be 'really fun.' However, I believe that for the summer at least I should stay with my mom and try to make her really happy (poor old darling!). If I can get into any of the colleges for the winter, that might be a different story, though I’m not sure.

Meanwhile Professor Sidgwick was pursuing his kind and public-spirited enquiries:

Meanwhile, Professor Sidgwick was continuing his thoughtful and community-focused investigations:

“Trin. Coll. Cam.

Mar. 1.

My dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I should have written to you before, but I have found it difficult to make up my mind. I now, however, after some hesitation, am inclined to dissuade you from making the attempt. I have not visited any of the Medical Board (as I thought it best, if you did come, that you should find them unprepared), but I have discussed the matter with about ten discreet persons varying in age and position.

I should have reached out to you earlier, but I struggled to decide. However, after some thought, I’m now leaning towards advising you not to go for it. I haven’t met with any of the Medical Board (I thought it would be better for you to find them unprepared if you did come), but I’ve talked about this with around ten trustworthy people of different ages and backgrounds.

Not one of us thinks that there is the smallest chance of your request being granted. The feeling of the [? Board] is certain to be decidedly against you: and there are minor obstacles interposed by existing regulations, which might be easily set aside if there was a desire to do so, but which will furnish excuses for rejection to any who may require such.

Not one of us believes there's even the slightest chance of your request being approved. The sentiment of the [? Board] is definitely going to be against you, and there are some minor hurdles created by current regulations. These could easily be overlooked if there was a willingness to do so, but they will provide excuses for rejection to anyone looking for them.

The question then comes, Will the raising of the matter now advance or retard our ultimate success? On this point we vary in opinion, but no one very decidedly thinks it will be a gain, while some are 225very strongly of opinion that it will do more harm than good. After much hesitation, I have come myself to this latter view, not on general grounds, for in general I like (as Lincoln said) to keep pegging away: but because we have hitherto done what we have done for women’s education by great quietness and moderation, and so far it seems best to go on in the same way: if our present scheme for examining women succeeds, it will be easier to take a further step: moreover I expect that we shall soon open our examinations more unrestrictedly to men, and that will make it easier to open them to women. Your application now would thus be a ‘breach of continuity,’ and would appear extravagant to many undecided people who after a few years may be brought to look upon a similar application as quite natural.

The question then is, will bringing this up now help or hurt our ultimate success? We have different opinions on this, but no one really believes it will be beneficial, while some are very convinced it will do more harm than good. After a lot of hesitation, I've come to agree with the latter view, not because I usually feel that way—like Lincoln said, I prefer to keep pushing forward—but because we’ve achieved what we have in women’s education through quietness and moderation, and so far that seems to be the best approach. If our current plan for examining women works out, it will be easier to take the next step. Additionally, I expect that we will soon allow men to take our exams more freely, which will also make it easier to include women. Your application now would therefore be seen as a ‘breach of continuity’ and would seem excessive to many undecided people who might, in a few years, view a similar application as completely normal.

Against this is to be set the advantage of raising the question, and getting people to exercise their minds on it, especially with so good a case (and I have no doubt advocacy) as yours.

On the other hand, we should consider the benefit of bringing up the question and getting people to think about it, especially with such a strong argument (and I’m sure you have great advocacy) as yours.

In short, we should gain, I believe, by argument, but should very likely lose more by hardening a mass of fluid prejudice, that may otherwise evaporate in the natural course of events.

In short, I think we should win through discussion, but we would probably lose more by solidifying a lot of misguided opinions that might otherwise fade away naturally over time.

So that, on the whole, I am slightly ^[47] opposed to your making the attempt, on public grounds only: and even if the balance between probable gain and loss is about even, I should hardly like to advise you to incur so much trouble that could not possibly benefit yourself.

So, overall, I’m a bit ^[47] against you trying it, just for public reasons. Even if the potential gains and losses seem about equal, I wouldn’t feel right recommending that you take on so much trouble without any benefit for yourself.

If you do come, I need not say that I will do anything I can to assist you, and generally to make your stay in Cambridge as pleasant as possible.

If you do come, I don’t need to say that I’ll do everything I can to help you and generally make your time in Cambridge as enjoyable as possible.

My instinct is to tell you to come, but that is because I like a fight: my soberer judgment is the other way.

My gut feeling is to tell you to come, but that's just because I enjoy a challenge: my clearer judgment says otherwise.

Believe me,
Yours very truly,
Henry Sidgwick.”

“Trin. Coll.

Mar. 8.

My dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I am sorry that we shall not have the pleasure of seeing you: but, as regards the application, I am quite convinced that your decision is right. Just at present the reformers here do not want stimulating, and I think the neutral people want management. As regards the Scotch Universities, I am afraid I cannot help you personally....

I’m sorry that we won’t have the pleasure of seeing you, but when it comes to the application, I’m fully convinced that your decision is the right one. Right now, the reformers here are not looking for stimulation, and I think the neutral people want management. As for the Scottish universities, I’m afraid I can’t help you personally...

I have taken counsel with a friend here—J. Stuart—who is now examiner at St. Andrews. He has promised to write to you and to send introductions to two or three people there whom you may 226like to visit. I imagine that either Edinburgh or St. Andrews will be more likely to serve your purpose than Glasgow or Aberdeen. If I can find any means of aiding you at Edinburgh, I will write again. I may have friends who know some of the Professors. Masson is the only one of whom I know anything,—he having once been an editor of mine. I should think he is very likely to help you, Shairp, I should fear, not; but I may be wrong.

I’ve talked with a friend here—J. Stuart—who is currently an examiner at St. Andrews. He’s agreed to write to you and send introductions to a couple of people there you might want to visit. I think either Edinburgh or St. Andrews will be more suitable for your needs than Glasgow or Aberdeen. If I can find a way to help you in Edinburgh, I’ll reach out again. I might have friends who know some of the professors. Masson is the only one I know anything about—he used to be my editor. I’d say he’s likely to assist you, but I’m not sure about Shairp; I might be mistaken.

Of Ireland I know nothing: but from what I have heard I should think our Conservatism here is nothing to the Conservatism of Dublin—particularly when Gladstone is Disestablishing.

Of Ireland, I know nothing; but from what I've heard, I’d say our Conservatism here is nothing compared to the Conservatism in Dublin—especially when Gladstone is disestablishing.

With best wishes for your success, I am,

With my best wishes for your success, I am,

Yours very sincerely,

H. Sidgwick.”

On the following day came a letter from Mr. Stuart, offering all the help in his power:

On the next day, a letter arrived from Mr. Stuart, offering all the help he could give:

“I hope you will excuse my unceremoniousness in thus writing to you by the belief that I have your success much at heart.”

“I hope you’ll forgive my lack of formalities in reaching out like this, but I genuinely care about your success.”

“My husband and I both think that it would be better not to try Cambridge in the face of Mr. Sidgwick’s opinion,” writes Mrs. Butler. “No one is better able to test the feeling of the University than he. I hope before long England will be ashamed of herself in this matter. We must do all we can by working quietly and extensively on the hearts and consciences of men. I find no man of ordinary candour who is not easily convinced, but the M.D.s will be the obstacle. They hang together so.

“My husband and I both believe it would be better not to pursue Cambridge given Mr. Sidgwick’s viewpoint,” Mrs. Butler writes. “No one understands the University’s sentiment better than he does. I hope that soon England will feel ashamed about this issue. We must do everything we can by working quietly and extensively on the hearts and minds of people. I find that no one with basic honesty is hard to convince, but the M.D.s will be the barrier. They stick together so closely.”

Shall you try Edinburgh? If not, do you think of taking a foreign degree? I wish you were an M.D. You would have plenty of patients at once.—myself among the number.”

Shall you consider trying Edinburgh? If not, are you thinking about getting a degree abroad? I wish you were a doctor. You would have plenty of patients at once—me included.

Thus it came about that when Mrs. Jex-Blake went to visit her son at Cheltenham, S.J.-B. “screwed her courage to the sticking-point,” and went to Edinburgh. The entry in her diary is characteristic:

Thus it happened that when Mrs. Jex-Blake went to visit her son at Cheltenham, S.J.-B. “summoned her courage” and traveled to Edinburgh. The entry in her diary is typical:

“Monday, March 15th. To Edinbro. How I dreaded the journey and sequence! On waking,—‘If Thou go not with me, carry me not up hence’!”

“Monday, March 15th. To Edinburgh. I was so anxious about the journey and what was to come! Upon waking, I thought—‘If You don’t go with me, don’t let me leave this place!’”

Meanwhile the University of Edinburgh stood foursquare, and the professors sat in their comfortable chairs, little dreaming that their Day of Judgment was at hand. Even at a cursory glance they were an imposing body of men. Some few of them were great in character, or in intellect, 227or in both: taken as a whole they were probably well above the average. In any case they were men of like passions with ourselves, well-disposed, kindly, just a little blunted by success, desirous of smooth things. As they acted, so would most similarly constituted bodies of men have acted at that day. The only difference between them and other men lay in the fact that it was to them the challenge of the future came.

Meanwhile, the University of Edinburgh stood strong, and the professors sat in their comfortable chairs, unaware that their Day of Judgment was approaching. Even at a quick glance, they were an impressive group of men. Some of them were truly great in character, intellect, or both; overall, they were probably well above average. In any case, they were men with the same passions as ours—well-meaning, kind, and just a bit dulled by their success, wanting everything to go smoothly. As they acted, most similarly formed groups of men would have acted on that day. The only difference between them and others was that it was a challenge of the future that came specifically to them. 227

And who was to tell them that this was the challenge of the future? It was so trifling an episode in outward seeming,—only the visit of a gifted young woman, with a clear strong head, but assuredly with no immunity from an average human being’s liability to error and mistake. If the professors had been canvassed on the subject of her request beforehand the result would have been an almost unanimous No: they had no more idea of admitting women to the University than they had of founding a Chair of Millinery. But the applicant was among them before they were aware; she knew what she wanted and she knew how to state her wants effectively. Her arguments were all at her finger-ends; and, although she made no sex appeal, she was possessed of fine dark eyes and a singularly musical voice.

And who was going to tell them that this was the challenge of the future? It seemed like such a trivial event on the surface—just the visit of a talented young woman, with a sharp mind, but definitely not immune to making mistakes like any average person. If the professors had been asked about her request beforehand, the answer would have been almost unanimously No: they had no more intention of allowing women into the University than they did of creating a Chair of Millinery. But the applicant was among them before they even realized it; she knew what she wanted and how to express her needs effectively. Her arguments were second nature to her, and although she didn't play up her gender, she had striking dark eyes and a uniquely musical voice.

In those days men had not learnt to be on their guard against an apparently guileless young woman. To many she stood for little more than a precocious child, who must be humoured, and, if necessary silenced later by sheer force majeure.

In those days, men hadn't figured out how to be cautious around a seemingly innocent young woman. To many, she represented little more than a smart child who needed to be indulged, and if necessary, quieted later by sheer unforeseeable circumstances.

But S. J.-B. took them a step farther on than this. She was obviously no mere child: she was a woman who had seen a good deal of life, who realized something of the meaning of sex as a factor in human affairs, and who was prepared calmly to assert that it ought not to stand in the way of the privilege she asked. When she faced the pundits with those candid earnest eyes, there must have been some who were literally mesmerised for the moment into sharing her belief.

But S. J.-B. took them a step further than that. She was clearly no ordinary child: she was a woman who had experienced a lot in life, who understood some of the significance of sex in human relationships, and who was ready to confidently state that it shouldn’t interfere with the privilege she sought. When she confronted the experts with those sincere, earnest eyes, there must have been some who were momentarily captivated into adopting her belief.

Yes, the Day of Judgment was at hand. I do not mean, of course, that the “sheep” were those who forwarded the applicant’s claims, and the “goats” those who put difficulties in her way. In those days there might well be room for two 228opinions on an experiment that had scarcely been tried. The Day of Judgment is apt to be a subtler, more searching thing than that. What I mean is that one cannot go through the vast mass of letters and documents relating to the whole matter without seeing the stuff of which those men were made,—the “worth” on the one hand, the “leather and prunella” on the other,—and oh, such imposing leather and prunella! One realizes afresh that when a big emergency takes everyone by surprise, only those who are guided in life by great principles can hope to act rightly. They may not all act alike: they may or may not make mistakes; but at least they act with essential dignity: they ring true; when they lie in their graves their greatness shines out from the musty old papers which have chanced for a few short years to embody an imperishable record.

Yes, the Day of Judgment was approaching. I don’t mean, of course, that the “sheep” were those who supported the applicant’s claims, and the “goats” were those who created obstacles for her. Back then, it was easy to have differing opinions on an experiment that had barely been attempted. The Day of Judgment tends to be a more nuanced, more revealing thing than that. What I mean is that you can’t go through the huge volume of letters and documents related to the whole situation without seeing the character of those individuals—the “worth” on one side, the “leather and prunella” on the other—and oh, such impressive leather and prunella! One realizes again that when a major crisis unexpectedly strikes, only those who are guided by strong principles can hope to act correctly. They might not all act in the same way; they might make mistakes or not; but at least they act with fundamental dignity: they resonate authentically; when they’re resting in their graves, their greatness shines through the dusty old papers that have managed, for a brief period, to capture an everlasting record.

And there is no one whose greatness shines out more clearly than does that of David Masson, Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature, to whom S. J.-B. went first. From first to last one’s admiration for him never swerves: one does not know which to admire in him most, the clear insight, the high courage, the fine discretion, or the sheer unfailing brotherly sympathy.

And there's no one whose greatness stands out more than David Masson, Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature, to whom S. J.-B. went first. From start to finish, admiration for him never wavers: it's hard to decide which quality to admire most in him—the clear insight, the strong courage, the excellent judgment, or the constant, genuine brotherly sympathy.

This is the first impression he made upon S. J.-B.:

This was the first impression he left on S. J.-B.:

“Quiet, rather reserved, kindly. Promised introduction to most of professors. Seems rather hopeful,—‘tide setting in.’”

“Quiet, somewhat reserved, and kind. Promised introductions to most of the professors. Seems pretty hopeful—‘the tide is turning.’”

One wonders what were the words in which he summed her up. He must have rejoiced in the clear brain, the quick wit, the cultured voice, the easy flow of sane and logical speech. Did he guess at the impulsive nature that was bound to make mistakes?—at the great warm heart that was bound to suffer more than most?

One wonders what words he used to describe her. He must have appreciated her sharp mind, quick wit, cultured voice, and smooth, logical speech. Did he see the impulsive nature that was sure to lead to mistakes?—the big, warm heart that was bound to endure more pain than most?

In any case he gave her the following letter to the Dean of the Faculty of Medicine:

In any case, he gave her this letter to the Dean of the Faculty of Medicine:

“My dear Balfour,

“My dear Balfour,”

Miss Jex-Blake, an English lady known as the author of a work on American Schools, is now in Edinburgh for a few days, chiefly with a view to ascertaining what chance there may be that Edinburgh University may (now that Paris and other continental cities have set the example) see its way to conferring a medical 229degree, after due study and qualification, on a lady candidate. It is but right that having come to Edinburgh for this purpose she should see you as the Dean of the Medical Faculty, in order to receive the best information and advice on the subject: and I shall be obliged by your courtesy in this matter.

Miss Jex-Blake, an English woman known for her book on American schools, is currently in Edinburgh for a few days primarily to explore the possibility of Edinburgh University granting a medical degree to a female candidate, following the lead of Paris and other European cities. Since she has come to Edinburgh for this reason, it’s only appropriate for her to meet with you as the Dean of the Medical Faculty to get the most accurate information and advice on this matter. I would appreciate your help with this.

Yours very truly,

David Masson.”

There was a similar note to Dr. Christison, in which the writer said:

“The question, I believe, has been already before you; but it has seemed to Miss Blake possible that, now that Paris and other Universities abroad have set the example, there may be some chance of a modification of the previous conclusion of Edinburgh University on the subject. As she will receive the best information and advice on the whole subject from members of the Medical Faculty, I take the liberty of giving her this note to you, with a request that you will kindly explain to her the state of things as they are, and of possibilities in the direction she has in view.

“The question, I think, has already come up before you; but Miss Blake believes that, now that Paris and other universities abroad have set a precedent, there might be a chance to change Edinburgh University's previous conclusion on this matter. Since she will get the best information and advice on the entire topic from members of the Medical Faculty, I’m giving her this note to you, with a request that you kindly explain to her the current situation and the possibilities regarding her interests.”

Yours very truly,

David Masson.”

And so, quite alone—she who was as dependent on a comrade, on a “helpmeet,” as some of our greatest men have been—with strange lodgings for a “base,”—she began the great work of canvassing the Edinburgh professors and the distinguished citizens who, for one reason or another, might be supposed to have a voice in the matter. She stood absolutely alone. She might belong to a good old family: her brother might be Headmaster of an English public school: but on the other side of the Tweed only a few of the enlightened knew anything of that. She was merely a clever young woman, with a rather outlandish name, who had conceived the extraordinary desire of obtaining a medical education by hook or by crook under the auspices of the Edinburgh University. If only Dr. Sewall could have been with her—or Mrs. Jenkinson, or Miss Du Pre,—what a stay she would have been! Fortunately Mr. Begbie was “kind and helpful as ever”; the old friendship with Miss Orr and with Mrs. Burn Murdoch was a great resource still; and Mr. Burn Murdoch was ready and willing to help to the utmost of his power. Miss Orr, it is true, was rather uncertain about the whole 230quest, wanted to know whether her old friend “went to church and read the Bible”; and, however relevant the question may have been,—S. J.-B. rightly felt that there was no time to go into it at this stage.

And so, all alone—she who relied on a partner, on a “helpmeet,” like some of our greatest figures have—having set up unconventional accommodations as her “base”—she started the significant task of reaching out to the Edinburgh professors and the notable citizens who, for various reasons, might have a say in the matter. She truly stood by herself. She might come from a reputable family: her brother could be the Headmaster of an English public school: but across the Tweed, only a few informed people were aware of that. She was simply a bright young woman with a rather unusual name, who had taken on the ambitious goal of obtaining a medical education, by any means necessary, under the guidance of Edinburgh University. If only Dr. Sewall could have been with her—or Mrs. Jenkinson or Miss Du Pre—what a support they would have been! Thankfully, Mr. Begbie was “kind and helpful as ever”; her old friendships with Miss Orr and Mrs. Burn Murdoch were still a valuable resource, and Mr. Burn Murdoch was eager and willing to assist to the best of his ability. Miss Orr, it’s true, was somewhat uncertain about the entire endeavor and wanted to know whether her old friend “went to church and read the Bible”; and, however relevant that question may have been, S. J.-B. rightly felt that there was no time to delve into it at this point.

Undoubtedly her two great supports through the time of stress—if we set aside for the moment all that was involved in her “If Thou go not with me,—!” were the deep interest taken by Miss Du Pre in every detail of the story; and the possession of Sadie’s poems, which had just been published. In these latter she found fitting expression for the fightings and fears of her own inner life, and for her hard-won “twilight” consolation. It is an interesting fact that these two elements should have come into her life just at this moment, for one scarcely sees how she could have “won through” without them. Sadie’s poems remained dear to her throughout life: she knew many of them by heart and repeated them almost on her deathbed; and her copy is worn even more “threadbare” than are her volumes of Robertson’s Sermons. One can imagine the feelings with which, after a keen exciting day’s work, she went home to her lonely lodgings, with no “Alice” looking out for her, to write her report to Dr. Sewall or Miss Du Pre, and to copy in her diary—as she did—the lines:

Without a doubt, her two main sources of support during this tough time—if we temporarily overlook everything tied to her “If Thou go not with me,—!” —were the genuine interest shown by Miss Du Pre in every detail of the story and the newly published poems by Sadie. In those poems, she found a perfect outlet for the struggles and fears of her own inner life, as well as for her hard-earned “twilight” comfort. It's interesting that these two parts of her life came together at this point, as it’s hard to imagine how she could have “won through” without them. Sadie’s poems stayed close to her throughout her life; she knew many by heart and recited them almost on her deathbed, and her copy is even more “threadbare” than her volumes of Robertson’s Sermons. You can picture how she felt after an exciting day of work, heading back to her lonely lodgings with no “Alice” waiting for her, ready to write her report to Dr. Sewall or Miss Du Pre, and to copy in her diary—the lines:

“Up the way that is narrow, the path that is steep,
With no guide for my footsteps, no help for my fear:
Only this—that He knoweth the way that I tread,
And His banner of crimson is over my head.

With the loneliness awful pressed into my soul,

With no voice for companion, no grasp of a hand—”

Yes, one cannot help wishing that an intimate friend had been at hand. One wonders whether she was even becomingly dressed: we know she would have wished to be; but she so seldom made the most of her appearance.^[48]

Yes, you can't help but wish that a close friend had been around. You wonder if she was even dressed appropriately: we know she would have wanted to be; but she rarely put effort into how she looked.^[48]

In any case what happened is perfectly clear. The Professors for the most part had a deeply rooted dislike to having 231women students in the University: in fact, the idea of such a thing was unthinkable; but when a gifted young woman actually sat in their sanctums urging her plea, they could not bear to say No. Strictly speaking, they should have refused to see her, but did any man yet ever refuse to see a woman whose name was before the public?

In any case, what happened is perfectly clear. The professors generally had a strong aversion to having women students at the university; in fact, the very idea was unthinkable. However, when a talented young woman actually sat in their offices advocating for her case, they couldn't bring themselves to say no. Technically, they should have refused to see her, but has any man ever refused to meet a woman whose name was in the public eye?

One wonders as one reads the papers how many of them knew what their “powers,”—what the legal powers of the University—really were?—how many of them really wished to know? There was a comfortable conviction in the back of their minds that insuperable difficulties lay shrouded in those unprobed depths. In the meantime why not show a little kindness to a gallant girl who was as modest as anyone could be in formulating so outrageous a demand, and whose pleading—so it has been said—would have “wiled the bird from the bough”? It was after she was gone that the real horror of the situation came home to them, and that they fell back again with relief on the thought of those unprobed depths,—the legal powers of the University.

One wonders as one reads the news how many of them really understood what their “powers”—the legal powers of the University—truly were. How many of them actually wanted to know? There was a comforting belief in the back of their minds that unresolvable challenges lay hidden in those unexplored depths. In the meantime, why not show a little kindness to a brave girl who was as modest as anyone could be in making such an outrageous request, and whose pleading—so it’s been said—could have “lured the bird from the branch”? It was only after she left that the real horror of the situation hit them, and they found relief again in the thought of those unexplored depths—the legal powers of the University.

It would all be very ordinary, and sometimes rather depressing, reading, were it not that Professor Masson and some of the others, when they gave her their provisional support, really meant exactly what they would have meant in giving their support to a man—no more and no less. Their own principle, their own righteousness was involved; they were quite prepared to see women students—if so it was to be—in the University quadrangle and class-rooms; and they meant to do what in them lay to give this woman a fighting chance.

It would all feel very ordinary, and occasionally quite depressing to read, if it weren't for the fact that Professor Masson and some of the others, when they offered her their provisional support, genuinely meant exactly what they would have meant if they were supporting a man—no more and no less. Their own principles and sense of righteousness were at stake; they were fully ready to see women students—if that’s how it was going to be—in the University quad and classrooms; and they intended to do everything they could to give this woman a fighting chance.

232

CHAPTER III
SUCCESS?

Meanwhile Miss Elizabeth Garrett was providing in her own career the very example that was needed to clinch the argument. After much arduous work and lavish expenditure of money on special classes, she had obtained the “L.S.A.,” a licence to practise from the Society of Apothecaries,^[49] and good use she had made of the platform thus gained. Henceforth no one could deny that an Englishwoman had the physique and the wit to study, “qualify,” and practise Medicine,—yes, even to get her full share of patients. It was scarcely to be expected that Miss Garrett would rest content without a University degree, but she considered that the time was not ripe for the agitation of the question in England, and she had little sympathy with S. J.-B.’s efforts in Edinburgh. None the less her successful career was a more valuable argument than her support would have been,—even if, at the moment, she had not been too fully occupied elsewhere to enter into the question at all.

Meanwhile, Miss Elizabeth Garrett was setting the perfect example in her own career to support the argument. After a lot of hard work and spending a significant amount of money on special classes, she earned the “L.S.A.,” a license to practice from the Society of Apothecaries,^[49] and she made great use of the platform that came with it. From that point on, no one could deny that an Englishwoman had the ability and intelligence to study, “qualify,” and practice medicine—yes, even to attract her fair share of patients. It was hardly surprising that Miss Garrett wouldn’t be satisfied without a university degree, but she felt the time wasn’t right to push the issue in England, and she didn’t have much sympathy for S. J.-B.’s efforts in Edinburgh. Nevertheless, her successful career was a stronger argument than her endorsement would have been—even if she had been too busy elsewhere to engage with the issue at all.

On March 21st, S. J.-B. wrote to Dr. Sewall:

“I have two nice little bits of news about Miss Garrett. One is that the Princess Louise went to see her, and, after enquiring about the medical prospects of women, expressed strong hopes of their complete success. This is really worth a great deal, and I hope you will have too much sense to sneer at it.

“I have two great pieces of news about Miss Garrett. One is that Princess Louise visited her and, after asking about the medical prospects for women, expressed strong hopes for their complete success. This is really significant, and I hope you will be smart enough not to dismiss it.”

233Secondly, I see in the British Medical Journal (which I shall try to send you) a notice that Miss Garrett had ‘by special order of the minister’ been admitted to the first examination for M.D. [in Paris] and had passed it in the presence of a crowded audience with very great éclat. That woman certainly has great power of study and work, hasn’t she?

233Secondly, I see in the British Medical Journal (which I'll try to send you) a notice that Miss Garrett had ‘by special order of the minister’ been admitted to the first exam for M.D. [in Paris] and had passed it in front of a packed audience with a lot of glow. That woman definitely has an amazing capacity for study and work, doesn’t she?

By the bye, you would have been interested at the scene in which I noticed this paragraph. I was sitting yesterday morning at Sir James Simpson’s breakfast table, between him and his wife, and he passed the paper to me....

By the way, you would have been interested in the scene where I noticed this paragraph. I was sitting yesterday morning at Sir James Simpson’s breakfast table, between him and his wife, and he passed the paper to me....

He was, of course, quite favourable to my application, and I am to breakfast with him again tomorrow and hear what he will do about it.^[50] He is going off to Rome for a trip this week, but I am very anxious that he should vote in my favour first. He is so unreliable that I do not know how to make sure of his doing it though,—very likely he’ll be at the other end of Edinburgh when the meeting is held. I told him that you remembered him and always spoke of his kindness to you. I am not quite sure whether he recalled it. He spoke highly of Dr. Emily Blackwell.”

He was definitely supportive of my application, and I'm having breakfast with him again tomorrow to see what he plans to do about it.^[50] He’s leaving for a trip to Rome this week, but I’m really hoping he votes in my favor first. He’s pretty unreliable, so I’m not sure how to make sure he does that—there's a good chance he’ll be at the other end of Edinburgh when the meeting happens. I mentioned that you remembered him and always talked about his kindness to you. I'm not completely sure if he remembered it. He had great things to say about Dr. Emily Blackwell.

A few days previous to this an unobtrusive little note of no small import appears in the diary:

A few days earlier, a simple little note of considerable importance shows up in the diary:

“8.30 p.m. at Begbie’s met Campbell Smith, who walked home with me. Older and more quiet than I had expected. Kindly.”

“8:30 p.m. at Begbie’s, I met Campbell Smith, who walked home with me. He was older and quieter than I had expected. He was kind.”

The favourable impression was mutual, if one may judge from the letter that follows:

The good impression was mutual, if we can judge from the following letter:

“30 Royal Circus,

21st March, 1869.

Dear Miss Blake,

Dear Ms. Blake,

I left your MS. yesterday with Mr. Findlay of the Scotsman. I think he will give you some help. If nothing be in the Scotsman tomorrow, and whether or not, you may call for him at the office. He will be happy to see you. He said so, and said further that you needed no note of introduction.

I dropped off your manuscript yesterday with Mr. Findlay from the Scotsman. I believe he’ll be able to assist you. If there’s nothing in the Scotsman tomorrow, you can still stop by the office to see him, and he’d be glad to meet with you. He mentioned that you don’t need a letter of introduction.

The review of your book appeared on 18th Nov., 1867, and you will see that also in the pile when you call.

The review of your book was published on November 18, 1867, and you'll see that in the stack when you come over.

Faithfully yours,

J.C. Smith.”

Thus began that support from the Scotsman, which, in the able hands of Mr. Alexander Russel, was destined to be of such incalculable value to the whole Feminist movement. 234The Scotsman was just approaching the height of its reputation, and its advocacy was the more valuable because it was not supposed to have a specially weak side for new movements and forlorn hopes. It used to be said in those days that, when the North Pole was discovered, a Scotsman would be found sitting on it, and it might have been added that the Scotsman would prove to be engrossed in the newspaper that bore his name. In any case, from this moment on, all that publicity could do for the cause was done. For better and for worse, the doings of S. J.-B. were about to be writ large for the whole world to read. They were the text round which the whole question was threshed out by countless firesides,—the text on which the life and character of every other woman provided a running commentary.

Thus began the support from the Scotsman, which, in the capable hands of Mr. Alexander Russel, was set to be incredibly valuable to the entire Feminist movement. 234The Scotsman was just reaching the peak of its reputation, and its support was even more significant because it wasn't seen as having a particular bias against new movements and lost causes. People used to say back then that when the North Pole was discovered, a Scotsman would be found sitting on it, and it could have been added that the Scotsman would be engrossed in the newspaper that bore his name. In any case, from this point on, everything that publicity could do for the cause was achieved. For better or worse, the actions of S. J.-B. were about to be highlighted for the entire world to see. They became the focal point around which the entire issue was discussed by families across countless homes—the text on which the life and character of every other woman provided a running commentary.

Small notion had S. J.-B. of the great flame that small spark was to kindle. In her diary she speaks quite casually of “my” leader, “highly approved by Masson.”

Small idea did S. J.-B. have of the great fire that small spark was about to ignite. In her diary, she casually mentions “my” leader, “highly approved by Masson.”

Meanwhile the canvassing was proceeding steadily, and S. J.-B.’s “thumb-nail” notes and sketches of character often make interesting reading,—none the less so because her gifts in this direction were necessarily immature.

Meanwhile, the canvassing was progressing steadily, and S. J.-B.’s “thumb-nail” notes and character sketches often make for interesting reading—none the less so because her talents in this area were naturally still developing.

“Thursday, 18th.... A long 1½ hours’ talk with Allman,—-going earnestly over every inch of ground, he very nice; at last, he ‘should be delighted to see me in his class,’ and he thought no legal objection against admission to classes, however about degrees. I am sure he will be a firm strong true friend.”

“Thursday, 18th.... Had a long 1½ hour conversation with Allman—really going over every detail, he was very pleasant; in the end, he said he ‘would be thrilled to have me in his class,’ and he didn't think there was any legal reason to prevent my admission to classes, though there might be issues regarding degrees. I’m confident he will be a loyal and supportive friend.”

“Friday, March 19th. Today for the first time the astounding idea dawned upon me that it was perhaps just possible that I really might succeed after all!

“Friday, March 19th. Today, for the first time, the amazing idea hit me that it might actually be possible for me to succeed after all!”

If I did!—to enter first a British University!—(‘first’?—Yes, rather mean, I know, but instinctive!—)

If I did!—to be the first to get into a British University!—(‘first’?—Yeah, I know it sounds a bit snobbish, but it’s just how I feel!—)

11 a.m. [after three hours’ work and visiting]—Fraser. Friendly, but rather non-committal,—speaking of it as a ‘matter for the medical faculty,’ etc.

11 a.m. [after three hours of work and visiting]—Fraser. Friendly, but kind of vague—talking about it as a 'matter for the medical faculty,' etc.

12. Balfour. At first rather wavering and weak. Didn’t see how a woman could dissect, etc., till I told him ‘I’d done it for some months,’ etc.... Ultimately a very valuable suggestion that he and A. should admit me to their summer courses, of Botany and Natural History, and then, if all went well I matriculate in October, and go to the rest. Proposes to call a Medical Faculty meeting next week if possiblepossible before Simpson goes.

12. Balfour. At first, he seemed a bit uncertain and hesitant. He didn't understand how a woman could dissect and so on, until I told him, “I've been doing it for a few months,” and so forth... In the end, he made a very useful suggestion that he and A. should let me join their summer courses in Botany and Natural History. If everything goes well, I could matriculate in October and continue from there. He plans to call a meeting of the Medical Faculty next week if possiblepossible before Simpson leaves.

2351.30, Lunch at the Grants. Very friendly and kind,—he with real English Oxford manner and courtesy,—she very kindly.

2351.30, Lunch at the Grants. They were very friendly and kind—he had a genuine English Oxford charm and politeness—she was very warm and welcoming.

He thought ‘all would agree as to end,—only difficulty as to means,’—agreed with Balfour’s idea of wisdom of deferring degree question. Was ‘very much interested’ in it all, and thought my going to see each of the Faculty would make a great difference.

He believed that everyone would agree on the end goal—only the means were difficult—agreed with Balfour’s suggestion that it would be wise to postpone the degree question. He was 'very much interested' in everything and thought that my meeting with each of the Faculty would really make a difference.

Told me that in a recent speech here, Jowett ‘hoped the Universities would open to women’ and was cheered greatly.

Told me that in a recent speech here, Jowett 'hoped the universities would be accessible to women' and received a great deal of applause.

Gave me (sealed) introduction to Christison (the ogre)—and authorized me to tell him ‘he should make no difficulty,’ etc.

Gave me a sealed introduction to Christison (the ogre) and authorized me to tell him that he shouldn't make any trouble, etc.

3 p.m. Henderson,—feared women ‘would get the cream of practice, if any’ (noble fear!)—would ‘think over it,’—-after a futile ‘non possumus’.”

3 p.m. Henderson,—worried that women ‘would get the best of the practice, if there was any’ (noble concern!)—would ‘consider it,’—after a pointless "we cannot".”

On the following day S. J.-B. sent in her formal application to the Dean of the Medical Faculty:

On the next day, S. J.-B. submitted her official application to the Dean of the Medical Faculty:

“Sir,

As I understand that the statutes of the University of Edinburgh do not in any way prohibit the admission of women, and as the Universities of Paris and Zurich have already been thrown open to them, I venture earnestly to request from you and the other gentlemen of the Medical Faculty permission to attend the lectures in your Medical School during the ensuing session.

As I understand that the rules of the University of Edinburgh do not prevent women's admission in any way, and since the Universities of Paris and Zurich have already allowed them in, I sincerely ask you and the other members of the Medical Faculty for permission to attend lectures in your Medical School during the upcoming session.

I beg to signify my willingness to accede to any such conditions, or agree to any such reservations as may seem desirable to you, and indeed to withdraw my application altogether if, after due and sufficient trial, it should be found impracticable to grant me a continuance of the favour which I now request. You, Sir, must be well aware of the almost insuperable difficulty of pursuing the study of Medicine under any conditions but those which can be commanded by large colleges only; and, in view of the increasing demand for the medical service of women among their own sex, I am sure that you will concede the great importance of providing for the adequate instruction of such as desire thoroughly to qualify themselves to fulfil the duties of the medical profession.

I want to express my willingness to accept any conditions or reservations you find necessary, and I am even prepared to withdraw my application entirely if, after a reasonable trial, it's determined that I can't be granted the favor I'm requesting. You must be aware of the significant challenges of studying Medicine under any circumstances other than those managed by major colleges; considering the growing need for women to provide medical services to other women, I'm sure you understand how important it is to offer proper training for those who want to fully qualify to serve in the medical field.

Earnestly commending my request to the favourable consideration of yourself and your colleagues.

I sincerely ask you and your colleagues to consider my request positively.

I am, Sir,
Yours obediently,
Sophia Jex-Blake.”

This letter is copied in her diary, and followed by the note:

“Taken to him, and meeting called to oblige me at 1 p.m. Tuesday. Oh, dear, how these folks gain by comparison with Harvard!

“Taken to him, and a meeting scheduled to accommodate me at 1 p.m. Tuesday. Oh, dear, how these people excel compared to Harvard!”

9.30 a.m. Turner. Quiet, thoughtful, realizing difficulty strongly, 236and referring to Christison as ‘our Nestor.’ Still listening heedfully and promising my words should ‘have due weight.’

9:30 a.m. Turner. Quiet and reflective, deeply aware of the challenges, 236 and calling Christison ‘our Nestor.’ Still paying close attention and assuring me that my words would ‘carry weight.’

10.30. Christison. ‘The matter has been decided.’ Not rude but quite uncompromising. He should use no influence, but vote against me.

10.30. Christison. ‘The matter has been decided.’ Not rude but very firm. He should not use any influence, but vote against me.

... 2 p.m. Dr. Bennett, who declared himself tired of fighting Syme and Christison, but will, I think, do it. He railed at them most of the time. Did not see the need of women as doctors, but acknowledged their possible value as assistant physiologists....^[51] Will admit me, if possible, to his non-obligatory histology class in summer....

... 2 p.m. Dr. Bennett, who said he was tired of arguing with Syme and Christison, but I think he will do it anyway. He complained about them most of the time. He didn’t see the point of having women as doctors, but he recognized their potential usefulness as assistant physiologists....^[51] He will let me join his optional histology class in the summer, if he can....

10 p.m. Was awfully cross at having to go to dine at ... and to tea at ..., but at the latter ‘met the gods,’—a very nice woman of 33 or 34 with curiously white hair,—Mrs. Evans, I think. She and I held together on almost all subjects. She would like to study Medicine (and I am sure has the power) but for an ‘old aunt.’ Oh, dear, the ‘might have beens’!—And yet here was I ten minutes ago defending ‘absolute right’ as the only rule.

10 p.m. I was really annoyed about having to go to dinner at ... and then tea at ..., but at the latter I “met the gods”—a very nice woman in her early thirties with oddly white hair—Mrs. Evans, I think. She and I agreed on almost everything. She wanted to study Medicine (and I’m sure she has the talent) if it weren’t for some “old aunt.” Oh, the “what ifs”!—And yet here I was just ten minutes ago defending “absolute right” as the only rule.

Curious though how one’s instinct leaps forward at the smallest chance.—‘Couldn’t we take a “flat” together?’”

Curious how someone's instinct kicks in at the smallest opportunity.—‘Couldn’t we get a “flat” together?’”

“Monday, March 22nd. A cup of tea and then to Simpson’s to breakfast. He said he should probably be here tomorrow and would go to the meeting if at all possible....

“Monday, March 22nd. A cup of tea and then to Simpson’s for breakfast. He mentioned he would likely be here tomorrow and would attend the meeting if possible....

Then ... to Laycock ... who was ‘frank’(!)—and told me ‘as a public man,’ etc., he must oppose,—informed me women ‘didn’t understand their position,’ that they did their own work in the world badly, that they had not sufficient strength for medical practice,—‘if women are fit for war, I will allow them fit for medicine.’ And, when I instanced the Amazons, thought that had nothing to do with it! Was sure women preferred men to do everything for them, even in shops;—and informed me no decent woman knew what young men are, or if she did, it was reprehensible, etc.

Then ... to Laycock ... who was ‘honest’(!)—and told me ‘as a public figure,’ etc., he had to oppose,—informed me women ‘didn’t understand their situation,’ that they were doing their own work in the world poorly, that they lacked the necessary strength for medical practice,—‘if women are fit for war, I will accept they are fit for medicine.’ And when I mentioned the Amazons, he thought that was irrelevant! He was sure women preferred men to handle everything for them, even in stores;—and informed me no decent woman understood what young men are like, or if she did, it was inappropriate, etc.

After lunch to Syme,—he more favourable than I had expected. Did think women ought to supersede ‘that man in ... Street,’—and thought if it was clearly understood that they only meant to practise in Midwifery and uterine diseases, there ‘would be no opposition.’ Not to be present tomorrow any way.

After lunch with Syme, he was more supportive than I had anticipated. He believed women should replace "that man in ... Street," and thought if it was clearly communicated that they only intended to practice in midwifery and female health issues, there "would be no opposition." I won’t be there tomorrow anyway.

Spence,—rather doubtful-minded. Not strongly opposed,—might turn either way, but is, I think, rather kindly and not irrational.

Spence—somewhat unsure. Not strongly against it—could go either way, but I think he's generally nice and reasonable.

Then called on kind Lady Grant; then home to rest.”

Then we visited kind Lady Grant; then we went home to rest.

“Tuesday, 23rd. 10.30 a.m. Now, having done all that lies in one woman’s power—except, perhaps, an article in the Daily Review,—having 237left a book, as a reminder, on Bennett, hunted up Sir J. Y. S. and crammed him [with] Mlle Unpronounceable at St. Petersburg,—I have to do what is hardest of all,—wait.

“Tuesday, 23rd. 10:30 a.m. Now, having done everything a woman can do—except, maybe, an article in the Daily Review,—having 237left a book as a reminder on Bennett, tracked down Sir J. Y. S. and filled him in on Mlle Unpronounceable in St. Petersburg,—I have to do the hardest thing of all—wait.

Four distinct votes in my favour, I believe, if all go and all keep faith with me. Allman ... Bennett, Balfour, Simpson.

Four clear votes in my favor, I think, if everyone goes along and stays loyal to me. Allman ... Bennett, Balfour, Simpson.

Against me distinctly,—Christison, Laycock, and probably Henderson.

Against me clearly—Christison, Laycock, and probably Henderson.

Doubtful,—Turner, Spence, and, perhaps, Syme.

Doubtful—Turner, Spence, and maybe Syme.

Besides Maclagan (ill), and Playfair (probably absent).^[52]

Besides Maclagan (sick) and Playfair (likely absent).^[52]

To lunch with Simpson at 2 p.m., and hear results.

To have lunch with Simpson at 2 p.m. and hear the results.

1.45 p.m. Waiting for the verdict? How will it be? Somehow the probability seems rather for me this time,—but there,—the Fates are so habitually adverse! I can’t help hoping and yet I don’t expect success. I hope they won’t ‘give an uncertain sound’ and put it off indefinitely!

1:45 p.m. Waiting for the verdict? How will it turn out? Somehow, the odds seem a bit more in my favor this time—but then again, the Fates are usually against me! I can’t help hoping, but I really don’t expect to succeed. I just hope they won’t keep us hanging and delay it indefinitely!

8 p.m.—Gloria tibi Domine!...

8 p.m.—Glory to You, Lord!

At 2 p.m. went to Sir J. Y. S.,—found him out, but met him in the street. ‘Yes, ye’re to be let in to the classes if the Senatus allow ye,—‘ of course with all provisos as to ‘tentative,’ etc. But the great fact is granted,—the thin end of the wedge in, and, though nothing is secure till after the Senatus on Saturday, yet it is an enormous triumph!

At 2 p.m., I went to see Sir J. Y. S.—he wasn’t in, but I ran into him on the street. “Yes, you’ll be allowed into the classes if the Senatus approves,” of course with all the conditions regarding “tentative,” etc. But the main point is accepted—the thin end of the wedge is in, and, although nothing is guaranteed until after the Senatus on Saturday, it’s a huge victory!

Three more days’ of calling and entreating and arguing,—then ‘after all these voices ... peace.’

Three more days of calling, pleading, and arguing—then 'after all these voices ... peace.'

After all, my aspiration to L. E. S. was not so ill-founded,—‘If I can be the first woman to open a British University’—then surely I, like Charlotte Brontë ‘shall have served, my heart and I’—even if I die straightway.

After all, my goal to L. E. S. wasn't so unrealistic—‘If I can be the first woman to open a British University’—then surely I, like Charlotte Brontë, ‘will have served, my heart and I’—even if I die right away.

For May, June and July, the Botany, Natural History, and Histology, with preparation for the Matriculation exam.

For May, June, and July, the Botany, Natural History, and Histology, along with preparation for the Matriculation exam.

Oh, dear, I do feel so exultant.... In one sense I do see all the life-preamble to have been needed. The experience in the United States gave me much more chance of success now,—the life there gave me health really to use the chance when it comes.

Oh, wow, I feel so excited.... In a way, I see that all the experiences I went through were important. My time in the United States gave me a much better shot at success now—the life I had there really gave me the energy to take advantage of the opportunities when they arise.

I hardly fear the future at all;—not the students, nor the work.

I barely worry about the future at all—neither the students nor the work.

I am sorry not to be with Mother, but on the whole this must be best, I think.

I’m sorry not to be with Mom, but overall, I think this is for the best.

Four years of College! All alone? Surely not literally all the time—spiritually, who knows?

Four years of college! All by myself? Definitely not all the time—emotionally, who can say?

What a pity, as I said to U.D. that they will use up gold for toasting-forks!

What a shame, as I told U.D., that they will waste gold on toasting forks!

238Well, I am sure the hind-wheels may run by faith for a long time now. Perhaps the tangle is beginning to unravel after all these years,—and I shall have to cry, ‘Oh, why didn’t I bear on better then!’ I suppose that is always the feeling when the cloud begins to lift. But till it lifts,—

238Well, I’m sure the back wheels can keep going on faith for a long time now. Maybe the mess is finally starting to untangle after all these years,—and I’ll have to cry, ‘Oh, why didn’t I handle things better back then!’ I guess that’s always the feeling when the cloud starts to clear. But until it clears,—

‘Still it is hard. No darkness will be light

Though we should call it light from night till morn.’

And surely the Father pitieth His children.”

And surely the Father feels compassion for His children.

The numberless quotations in the course of her diary,—however fundamentally optimistic—are almost always in a minor key; but the minor key proves inadequate in the face of this great joy. One can see the dark eyes flash as she goes on,—

The countless quotes throughout her diary, while fundamentally optimistic, are mostly in a minor tone; however, that minor tone falls short when confronted with this immense joy. You can see her dark eyes light up as she continues—

“‘Fair are the Marcian kalends,
The proud ides, when the squadron rides,
Shall be Rome’s whitest day.’

Surely I shall have to institute a festival for March 23rd. I wonder who’s the saint. It will be very odd if any other day in my life will be (if all goes well) as vital an epoch as today....

Surely I’ll have to set up a festival for March 23rd. I’m curious who the saint is. It would be very strange if any other day in my life ends up being (if all goes well) as significant as today....

I feel as if everybody was my peer today, for I want everybody to shake hands with me. I am so glad. Dear old Mother!—why are you not here to kiss me?... O.H.?... L.E.S.?... Ursula?... Perhaps your thought is nearest me tonight, because you more than any perhaps realize the day of crisis....”

I feel like everyone is my equal today because I want everyone to shake my hand. I’m so happy. Dear old Mom!—why aren’t you here to kiss me?... O.H.?... L.E.S.?... Ursula?... Maybe your thoughts are closest to me tonight because you, more than anyone, understand the day of crisis....

“Wednesday, March 24th. How very nice it is to wake with a sense of something very good in the wind!”

“Wednesday, March 24th. It feels so nice to wake up with a sense that something good is coming!”

Indeed it is small wonder that she was elated. Everyone had assured her that the opposition of the doctors was the thing to be feared, and now the Medical Faculty had recorded its vote in her favour. True, the permission only applied, in the first instance, to the Summer Term, and some of the professors may well have thought that the Summer Term would be more than enough to quench the ardour of the solitary woman student. But there is really no need to enquire into the manifold motives that may have swayed them. They had done what she asked, and it was scarcely to be supposed that the professors of the other faculties would prove more obdurate. One thinks with satisfaction of some of the men with whom she now had to deal,—Professor 239Masson was not the only rock among them. One has but to recall the names of Professor Calderwood, Professor Lorimer, Professor Wilson, and others too, in order to realise that, so far as they were concerned, her feet were on sure ground.

It's no surprise that she was thrilled. Everyone had told her that the doctors' opposition was what she needed to worry about, and now the Medical Faculty had voted in her favor. Admittedly, the permission only applied for the Summer Term at first, and some professors might have believed that the Summer Term would be more than enough to dampen the enthusiasm of the lone woman student. But there's really no need to delve into the various reasons that may have influenced them. They had done what she asked, and it was unlikely that the professors from the other faculties would be any more resistant. It's satisfying to think of some of the men she now had to work with—Professor Masson wasn’t the only strong figure among them. Just remembering the names of Professor Calderwood, Professor Lorimer, Professor Wilson, and others makes it clear that, as far as they were concerned, she was on solid ground.

The diary of March 24th continues:

The diary entry for March 24th goes on:

“Then to Masson’s, where I got 5 introductions. He very hopeful, I think. Seems not to think the University Court have the right to interfere.

“Then to Masson’s, where I got 5 introductions. He seems very hopeful, I think. He doesn’t believe the University Court has the right to interfere.”

Then to Tytler’s. He very quiet and legal. ‘Should go to the Senatus quite unprejudiced,’—which was hardly all I wanted!...

Then to Tytler’s. He was very calm and professional. ‘Should go to the Senatus completely open-minded,’—which wasn't really everything I wanted!...

... In afternoon went with Mr. Begbie to see ... Calderwood,—at home and quite favourable. Should support me on Saturday. ‘Fine speaker,’ says Begbie.

... In the afternoon, I went with Mr. Begbie to see ... Calderwood—who was at home and quite agreeable. He should back me up on Saturday. 'Great speaker,' says Begbie.

Then Tait,—quite favourable.

Then Tait—pretty positive.

Fleeming Jenkin,—rather so,—indeed I think he almost promised to vote for me, but feared some legal difficulties as to Matriculation, etc.

Fleeming Jenkin—actually, I think he almost promised to vote for me, but he was worried about some legal issues regarding Matriculation and so on.

After Begbie went home, I saw Kelland,—he mildly favourable,—but saw ‘difficulties.’ Still will vote, I think.

After Begbie went home, I saw Kelland—he was somewhat supportive—but I noticed some 'difficulties.' I still think he will vote.

In the evening at Blackies’. He with clear pure face, white hair and straw hat! Half mad looking, certainly. But showed me favourable passages in his Notes on the Iliad, etc.—XI. 740—, and ‘unless he hears strong things to the contrary’ will support me. Mrs. Blackie also nice, I think,—not commonplace.”

In the evening at Blackies’. He had a clear, innocent face, white hair, and a straw hat! Definitely looked a bit crazy. But he showed me some positive sections in his Notes on the Iliad, etc.—XI. 740—, and ‘unless he hears strong things to the contrary’ will back me up. Mrs. Blackie is also nice, I think—not ordinary.

“Thursday, 25th. Congratulations from Mother and U.D.... Left Iliad notes at Blackie’s. Then saw Lorimer. Very kind and friendly. ‘Very glad to see me.’ Introduced me to Mrs. Lorimer, was ‘sure women could do work men couldn’t’, etc., and were needed. Introduced me to M‘Pherson, saying he ‘sufficiently expressed his opinion by saying he intended to vote for me.’

“Thursday, 25th. Congratulations from Mom and U.D.... Left Iliad notes at Blackie’s. Then saw Lorimer. He was very kind and friendly. ‘Really glad to see me.’ He introduced me to Mrs. Lorimer, expressing that he was ‘sure women could do work men couldn’t,’ and that they were needed. He introduced me to M‘Pherson, saying he ‘sufficiently expressed his opinion by saying he intended to vote for me.’”

Which McPherson doesn’t. Not disagreeable however, though less earnestminded than most.

Which McPherson doesn't. Not unpleasant though, just not as serious-minded as most.

Cosmo Innes. Painfully deaf, but very friendly. Much interested about my written communications about Bologna. Will support me. I’m to send him facts from British Museum.

Cosmo Innes. Very hard of hearing, but really friendly. He’s quite interested in my written updates about Bologna. He’s going to support me. I’m supposed to send him information from the British Museum.

Muirhead—I had been taught to fear as surely opposed. So he was at first, but candid and earnest and kind, and said at last, ‘You have disposed of many of my objections.’ Much interested as to University statistics,—Bologna, etc. Suggested Balfour should write for information to Paris and Zurich.

Muirhead—I had been taught to see him as a clear opponent. He was at first, but he was honest, sincere, and kind. Eventually, he said, ‘You’ve addressed many of my concerns.’ He was really interested in university statistics—Bologna, and so on. He suggested that Balfour should write to Paris and Zurich for more information.

Then bought stockings and basket, and called on Miss Blyth, and came home pretty well done up. Now to start again soon.

Then I bought some stockings and a basket, visited Miss Blyth, and came home pretty exhausted. Now to get started again soon.

(I hear Mr. M., downstairs, is interested to hear they have ‘that lady’ here!)

(I hear Mr. M., downstairs, is eager to know they have 'that lady' here!)

2403 p.m. Professor Playfair has been here,—very kindly,—very much in earnest,—laying stress on Bologna degrees, etc. Introduction to Piazzi Smith,—‘I am strongly in favour of granting her desire to attend the classes, with the view of taking the degree in Medicine. She is thoroughly in earnest and desires no favour. Do give her an opportunity of stating her case to you.’

2403 p.m. Professor Playfair has been here—very kindly, very seriously—emphasizing the importance of Bologna degrees, etc. Introduction to Piazzi Smith—'I strongly support her wish to attend the classes to pursue a degree in Medicine. She is genuinely committed and doesn't seek any special treatment. Please allow her the chance to present her situation to you.'

Then with D. B. M. to Stevenson ... who thinks it ‘haigh taime’ to have female practitioners, and means to vote for me, I think.

Then with D. B. M. to Stevenson ... who thinks it’s ‘high time’ to have female practitioners, and means to vote for me, I think.

Then D. B. M. home, and with Mr. Begbie to Dr. C. who seems to have been at a Tory clack with Christison and Co. in the morning and won’t help me. He most naïvely let out ‘what Christison meant to do,’—i.e. argue that the Senate could not act without more legal advice,—delay,—and if possible refer to Chancellor Inglis. Whereon I wrote to Tait, Innes and Playfair to put on guard.

Then D. B. M. went home, and with Mr. Begbie to Dr. C., who seems to have been at a Tory meeting with Christison and Co. in the morning and won’t help me. He very naively revealed ‘what Christison meant to do,’—i.e. argue that the Senate couldn’t act without more legal advice,—delay,—and if possible refer to Chancellor Inglis. After that, I wrote to Tait, Innes, and Playfair to warn them.

6 p.m. Dinner at 22 Manor Place....

By the bye, how queerly much impressed Muirhead was with the ‘trouble I had taken’ at British Museum, etc.”

By the way, Muirhead was surprisingly impressed by the ‘effort I put in’ at the British Museum, etc.

“Friday 26th. This morning at 10.30, to Piazzi Smith,—deaf and very hard to get at. Declared nothing but Astronomy to be his business,—and particularly no science used for money-getting!—Then he rambled off to ‘supply before demand’—Meteorological Society and Mr. Lowe, etc., and Registrar of Deaths, etc. Then—had a ladies’ meeting been called to declare they would employ women, etc.... However I might be sure he ‘would not vote against me,’ and advised me not to be discouraged!... Oh, dear, what a strain it is on one to have to sit out that sort of thing!

“Friday 26th. This morning at 10:30, I went to see Piazzi Smith—he's deaf and really hard to talk to. He insisted that only Astronomy was his concern, and especially not any science for making money! Then he started going off on ‘supply before demand’—mentioning the Meteorological Society and Mr. Lowe, etc., along with the Registrar of Deaths, etc. Then—was a ladies’ meeting called to say they would hire women, etc.... Still, I could be sure he ‘would not vote against me’ and told me not to get discouraged!... Oh, what a strain it is to have to sit through that kind of conversation!

2 p.m. came Professor Wilson,—very kind and friendly,—though, having inadvertently shown him my list, he instantly pounced down on his own name and asked my authority. So I gave up Playfair instantly!... A grave good thoughtful man,—a very sound champion.

2 p.m. came Professor Wilson—very kind and friendly—but when I accidentally showed him my list, he immediately spotted his own name and asked for my source. So I gave up Playfair right away! He’s a serious, thoughtful man—a really solid advocate.

Then to see Lorimer who encourages me finely.”

Then I see Lorimer, who encourages me really well.

“Saturday March 27th. Went with Mr. Begbie to see Oakeley (at school with Tom) Oxfordish (i.e. non enthusiastic), but civil enough. Said he should support.

“Saturday, March 27th. I went with Mr. Begbie to see Oakeley (who was at school with Tom). He seemed a bit indifferent, but was polite enough. He said he would support it.”

11 a.m. Fraser. The Medical Faculty having agreed, he was ready to do so too. I specially pleaded against “shelving” the question.

11 a.m. Fraser. The Medical Faculty agreed, so he was ready to go along with it too. I strongly argued against “shelving” the question.

Indeed I hope with all my writing and speaking and warning (including my rather ill-advised raid on Balfour at College this morning) I have put a spoke in Christison’s wheel. Just about voting on it, I suppose,—3.30 p.m.

Indeed, I hope that through all my writing, speaking, and warnings (including my rather questionable attempt to confront Balfour at College this morning) I've managed to disrupt Christison's plans. I guess we’re just about to vote on it—3:30 p.m.

It is to be hoped Wilson will be prophetic,—‘We’ll have a great fight, but we’ll beat them!’

It is hoped that Wilson will be right—‘We’ll have a big fight, but we’ll win!’

24110 p.m. Success,—and such a success,—14 to 4!—‘Nunc dimittis’?—No, surely,—fresh zeal and energy for lifelong work.

24110 p.m. Success—and what a success—14 to 4!—‘Now you can dismiss’?—No, definitely—new enthusiasm and energy for a lifetime of work.

Isn’t it good after such a fortnight of rush and battle and strain to go to bed, saying,—‘The work is done!’

Isn't it great after such a two weeks of chaos and struggle and stress to go to bed, knowing—'The work is done!'

‘Of all the gifts of God...!’”

‘Of all the gifts of God…!’”

It is interesting to note that the speakers in S. J.-B.’s favour at the Meeting of Senatus were:—Professors Balfour, Tait, Lorimer, Fleeming Jenkin, Masson, Blackie, Bennett, and Sir Alexander Grant. Against her were Professors Christison, Turner, Laycock and Craufurd. To her great surprise Professor Muirhead gave notice of an appeal to the University Court. Professor Playfair was out of town, but the following letter has been preserved:

It’s interesting to point out that the supporters of S. J.-B. at the Senatus Meeting were Professors Balfour, Tait, Lorimer, Fleeming Jenkin, Masson, Blackie, Bennett, and Sir Alexander Grant. Opposing her were Professors Christison, Turner, Laycock, and Craufurd. To her surprise, Professor Muirhead announced that he would appeal to the University Court. Professor Playfair was out of town, but the following letter has been kept:

“University Club,
Edinburgh.
26 March, 69.

My dear Masson,

My dear Masson

I have to express my regret that, in ignorance of there being a Senatus Meeting tomorrow, I had made an important engagement in Fifeshire.

I have to say I'm sorry that, not knowing there was a Senatus Meeting tomorrow, I made an important commitment in Fifeshire.

I cordially concur in the recommendation of the Medical Faculty, that Miss Blake should be allowed to attend the Summer classes. If no inconvenience be found in practice, there are many precedents for female graduation, and for female professors. Pope Joan herself is an instance, although she professed and graduated in male attire. But lesser people than a pope may be adduced as precedents, in Salamanca, Bologna and Padua, especially from the thirteenth century onwards. Sir Roundell Palmer would not object on the ground of the legality of the prospect of female graduation, though if he were a member of Senatus he might doubt the expediency.

I fully support the Medical Faculty's recommendation that Miss Blake should be allowed to attend the summer classes. If there are no practical issues, there are plenty of examples of women graduating and serving as professors. Pope Joan is a notable example, even though she studied and graduated in men's clothing. But there are other examples of women in universities like Salamanca, Bologna, and Padua, particularly from the thirteenth century onwards. Sir Roundell Palmer wouldn’t oppose the legality of women graduating, although if he were part of the Senate, he might question whether it’s the right choice.

For my part, I have faith that the students will act like gentlemen, and will prove that the tentative session has not been lost by discourtesy on their part.

For my part, I believe that the students will behave like gentlemen and will show that the trial session hasn't been wasted due to their rudeness.

Yours sincerely,

Lyon Playfair.”

242

CHAPTER IV
A CHECK

On the day following that memorable meeting of Senatus, S. J.-B. had a curious conversation with the wife of one of the professors:

On the day after that unforgettable meeting of the Senate, S. J.-B. had an interesting conversation with the wife of one of the professors:

“Mrs. A. tells me Christison actually threatened to resign if women are admitted!—and to the Medical Faculty this is a formidable threat. She thinks also ‘the professors haven’t treated me fairly’ (which I deny) in not letting me know how much they dislike the whole thing. Doubtless A. does,—and the babble of her bourne is magnified to her.

“Mrs. A. tells me Christison actually threatened to quit if women are allowed in!—and to the Medical Faculty, that’s a serious threat. She also thinks ‘the professors haven’t treated me fairly’ (which I disagree with) by not telling her how much they dislike the entire situation. No doubt A. feels that way,—and the noise she hears is amplified for her.”

Still I know all is not yet gained. Yet surely very much is. And can ‘He so far have brought me’—? Not that that is a real argument, because if it fails we must suppose failure is right in one sense.

Still, I know not everything is achieved yet. But surely a lot is. And can 'He have brought me this far'—? Not that this is a solid argument, because if it falls short, we should assume that failure is correct in one way.

Amusing how much personal power Mrs. A. attributes to me, ‘You’ve just turned them round your thumb,—I don’t believe there’s another woman could have done it,—you are wholly exceptional, etc.’ I say ‘very complimentary, but I think not quite true.’ She thinks I’ve been ‘wonderfully clever,’ and when I object to the phrase, ‘have really shown wonderful power and tact.’

It's funny how much personal power Mrs. A thinks I have, ‘You’ve completely got them under your control—I don’t believe any other woman could have done it—you are truly exceptional,’ and so on. I say, ‘That's very flattering, but I don’t think it’s entirely accurate.’ She believes I’ve been ‘incredibly clever,’ and when I disagree with that, she insists I’ve really shown amazing power and tact.

I’m afraid one can’t help being a little pleased to think one’s own effort has done something,—and yet the other feeling lies deeper:

I’m afraid you can’t help but feel a bit satisfied knowing your efforts have made a difference—but there’s another feeling that runs deeper:

‘If Thou didst will, a mighty sword

Out of my stem should grow.’

By the bye U. D. thinks my poem ^[53] the saddest in the book, ‘Poor child’ [she says] ‘how sorry I am for you! Oh, if the atmosphere of Easter joy which is bright round me were only your’s too, ... Such an “only this,”—it would be better to be in the blackest night with the hope of stumbling into broad daylight some time or other. It is the sort of hopelessness of any more light to come that makes the poem so sad to me.’

By the way, U. D. thinks my poem ^[53] is the saddest in the book. “Poor child,” she says, “how sorry I am for you! Oh, if only the bright atmosphere of Easter joy around me could be yours too... Such an ‘if only’—it would be better to be in the darkest night with a chance of finding daylight someday. It's the kind of hopelessness about not having any more light that makes the poem feel so sad to me.”

243I don’t agree. I think the ‘only this’ is just everything,—enough to live on and die on, though not enough (what is?) to prevent life being very hard and stony. It seems to me just the essence of the—

243I don’t agree. I think the ‘only this’ is really everything—enough to live for and to die for, but not enough (what is?) to stop life from being really tough and rocky. It seems to me just the essence of the—

‘... strenuous souls for belief and prayer—
Who stand in the dark on the lowest stair
Affirming of God,—He is certainly there.’

And did even Christ keep that much always?—

And did Christ really always maintain that much?—

I believe Miss Cobbe is right,—in every Calvary there must be ‘darkness over the face of all the land’ for awhile.

I believe Miss Cobbe is right—every tough situation has to have 'darkness over the face of all the land' for a while.

Well, indeed, if we can always keep a firm grip of—

Well, indeed, if we can always keep a firm grasp of—

‘Only this, that He knoweth the way that I tread,

And His banner of crimson is over my head.’

And again,—

And again—

‘This only for solace,—God knoweth indeed

Where the poverty galls,—of what things we have need.need.’

At 1.30 came Mrs. Evans with her clear good eyes and face. Much disposed at least to Botany. How I hope she will!”

At 1:30, Mrs. Evans arrived with her bright, clear eyes and friendly face. She seemed very interested in Botany. How I hope she will!

Meanwhile S. J.-B. was undoubtedly the woman of the moment, and she had the satisfaction—by no means an unbroken one as life went on—of feeling herself a thoroughly popular person. She lunched with this dignitary and dined with that; some of the wives of the Professors offered to accompany her to the lectures if no other women came forward to join her; and some students whom she met at dinner told her they thought the students would be delighted that she should join the class.

Meanwhile, S. J.-B. was definitely the woman of the moment, and she had the satisfaction—though not always a smooth one as life progressed—of feeling like a genuinely popular person. She had lunch with this important figure and dinner with that one; some of the professors' wives offered to go with her to the lectures if no other women stepped up to join her; and some students she met at dinner said they thought the other students would be excited for her to join the class.

Apparently this sanguine view was a mistaken one, for an agitation was raised among some of the men—at whose instigation we have no means of knowing—which resulted in another appeal to the University Court against the decision of the Senatus.

Apparently, this optimistic outlook was misguided, as some of the men stirred up agitation—it's unclear who was behind it—which led to another appeal to the University Court challenging the decision of the Senatus.

Very characteristically, but with Professor Masson’s approval, S. J.-B. had called on Professor Muirhead to ask him the grounds of his appeal. He told her he had appealed because he did not think the question had been fully considered, and he thought the vote of the Senatus had settled the question too finally for all women. He pointed out that, as things stood, she must matriculate even to go to the lectures, 244but held out hopes that the University Court could give tentative permission. He was “not at all unfriendly,” and showed her cases of mediaeval women doctors to add to the strength of her armoury.

In a typical fashion and with Professor Masson’s approval, S. J.-B. reached out to Professor Muirhead to ask him about the reasons behind his appeal. He explained that he had appealed because he felt the issue hadn’t been fully addressed, and he believed that the Senatus’s vote had decided the matter too definitively for all women. He noted that, as things were, she had to matriculate just to attend the lectures, 244 but expressed hope that the University Court could grant temporary permission. He was “not at all unfriendly” and showed her examples of medieval women doctors to strengthen her position.

Meanwhile Lord Advocate Moncrieff had proved “kindly and favourable,” and the Lord Provost, “very lordly in his big chair, but rather gracious” had promised to give the question “his best consideration.” Sir Alexander Grant thought the thing was won with the Professors, and had “hardly a doubt” of the University Court.

Meanwhile, Lord Advocate Moncrieff had been “kind and supportive,” and the Lord Provost, “very dignified in his big chair, but somewhat gracious,” had promised to give the issue “his best consideration.” Sir Alexander Grant believed the support was secured with the Professors and had “little doubt” about the University Court.

When, on March 31st of that eventful year, S. J.-B. returned to Brighton, she fully believed that her cause was so far gained, and there is not the smallest doubt that a number of the professors shared her belief. One cannot read the diary and the letters of the periods without feeling how much cause there was for confident anticipation; but we have only to turn to dry-as-dust facts, to the constitution of Edinburgh University, in order to realize how precarious the situation was.

When, on March 31st of that significant year, S. J.-B. came back to Brighton, she was completely convinced that her cause had made significant progress, and it's clear that several professors shared her view. Reading through the diary and letters from that time reveals how much reason there was for hopeful expectation; however, if we look at the cold, hard facts, particularly the structure of Edinburgh University, we can understand how uncertain the situation actually was.

There were no less than four bodies whose business it was to consider the question at stake, and who—in addition to the Chancellor—had to be consulted before any important change could be made:

There were at least four groups whose job it was to think about the issue at hand, and who—in addition to the Chancellor—needed to be consulted before any major changes could happen:

1. The Medical Faculty, consisting of Medical Professors only.

1. The Medical Faculty, made up of Medical Professors only.

This hurdle, as the reader is aware, had been somewhat unexpectedly passed.

This obstacle, as the reader knows, was surprisingly overcome.

2. The Senatus, comprising all the Professors of every Faculty.

2. The Senate, made up of all the Professors from each Faculty.

This obstacle, too had been passed.

This obstacle had also been overcome.

3. The University Court, composed of the Rector, the Principal, the Lord Provost of Edinburgh,—with five others appointed respectively by the Chancellor, the Rector, the Senatus, the Town Council of Edinburgh, and the General Council of the University.

3. The University Court, made up of the Rector, the Principal, the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, and five others chosen by the Chancellor, the Rector, the Senatus, the Edinburgh Town Council, and the General Council of the University.

4. The General Council, comprising all those graduates who register their names as members.

4. The General Council consists of all the graduates who sign up as members.

245Mr. Sidgwick’s remarks about Convocation naturally occur to one at this stage; but what mainly strikes one on facing these particulars is the extraordinary constitution of No. 3 as a body authorized to reconsider the decisions of No. 2. The Rector was some distinguished man who might never have been in Edinburgh in his life; the Lord Provost may be fairly supposed to have his hands pretty full without taking upon him the consideration of highly technical questions that lay outside his sphere. As for some of the other members,—one can only say that the manner of their election calls up possibilities concerning them too varied for the human mind to grasp.

245Mr. Sidgwick’s comments about Convocation naturally come to mind at this point; however, what really stands out when looking at these details is the unusual makeup of No. 3 as a group allowed to review the decisions made by No. 2. The Rector was a notable individual who might have never even visited Edinburgh; the Lord Provost likely has his hands full without having to deal with complex issues that fall outside his expertise. As for some of the other members—one can only say that the way they were elected raises possibilities about them that are too varied for anyone to fully understand.

No doubt there were occasions on which this “lay control” had its advantages; but, when one considers how much must depend on the point of view from which the case was laid before the Court, one cannot but feel that it lay in the power of so singularly-constituted a body to defeat the very end for which it was created.

No doubt there were times when this “lay control” had its benefits; however, when you think about how much depends on the perspective from which the case is presented to the Court, it’s hard not to feel that such a uniquely structured group could undermine the very purpose for which it was established.

From S. J.-B.’s point of view then, as we have seen, two hurdles had been successfully passed; but the dangers of the third may be estimated from the fact—the importance of which she as an outsider could not possibly gauge—that her avowed and implacable opponent, “our Nestor,” Dr. Robert Christison, was the only Professor and the only medical man who had a seat on the University Court. He had in fact the unique distinction of belonging to every body by which the interests of the women had to be decided, viz. the Medical Faculty, the Senatus, the University Court, the University Council, and the Infirmary Board.

From S. J.-B.’s perspective, as we’ve discussed, two challenges had been successfully overcome; however, the risks of the third can be understood from the fact—that she, as an outsider, couldn’t possibly appreciate the significance of it—that her declared and relentless opponent, “our Nestor,” Dr. Robert Christison, was the only professor and the only medical professional on the University Court. He actually had the unique distinction of being part of every body that had to make decisions regarding the interests of women, including the Medical Faculty, the Senatus, the University Court, the University Council, and the Infirmary Board.

Add to all this that he was a respected and representative citizen, one who made a strong appeal to the religious and church-going public. “No man,” said Professor Masson about this time, “walks the streets of Edinburgh whom I more respect; ... but this is not the first time, and I suppose it will not be the last, when grave and wise men will be found defending a dying tyranny.”

Add to all this that he was a well-respected citizen, someone who strongly resonated with the religious and church-going community. “No man,” said Professor Masson around this time, “walks the streets of Edinburgh whom I respect more; ... but this is not the first time, and I guess it won't be the last, when serious and wise men will be found defending a fading tyranny.”

Professor Masson’s feeling for the great man was destined to be sorely tried.

Professor Masson's affection for the great man was about to be severely tested.

It will surprise no one, then, to learn that on April 19th, 246the following resolution was passed at a meeting of the University Court held, as was the custom, in strict privacy:

It won’t surprise anyone to find out that on April 19th, 246 the following resolution was approved at a meeting of the University Court, which was, as usual, held in strict confidentiality:

“That the Court, considering the difficulties at present standing in the way of carrying out the resolution of the Senatus, as a temporary arrangement in the interest of one lady, and not being prepared to adjudicate finally on the question whether women should be educated in the medical classes of the University, sustains the appeals and recalls the resolution of the Senatus.”

“That the Court, taking into account the current challenges in implementing the Senatus's decision, as a temporary measure in favor of one woman, and not ready to make a final ruling on whether women should be educated in the University’s medical classes, upholds the appeals and reverses the Senatus’s decision.”

“As a temporary arrangement in the interests of one lady.”

“As a temporary arrangement for the benefit of one woman.”

Supposing that the decision of the University Court was really to be taken at its face value, so to speak, it was one of which nobody could fairly complain. Was it not simply another way of saying,—“If this counsel or this work be of men it will come to nought”? For, although it be true that “God and one man make a majority,” the fighter who has God on his side does not indefinitely remain alone, even so far as his fellow men are concerned.

If we take the University Court’s decision at face value, it was one that no one could really argue against. Was it not just another way of saying, “If this advice or effort is from humans, it will ultimately fail”? Because while it’s true that “God and one man make a majority,” the person who has God on their side doesn’t stay alone forever, at least in terms of human support.

The mere fact of the adverse decision is recorded in the diary almost without comment. One is glad to think that when S. J.-B. received the news she was among her friends in the south, and no longer so dependent on the lonely solace of an unwritten page. On April 26th she wrote to Dr. Sewall:

The simple fact of the negative decision is noted in the diary with hardly any comments. It's comforting to know that when S. J.-B. got the news, she was with her friends down south, and no longer so reliant on the solitary comfort of an empty page. On April 26th, she wrote to Dr. Sewall:

“You will have seen my bad news in the papers I sent you on Saturday,—I can no longer urge you to come and settle in Edinburgh, for all my plans there have been overturned again. The University Court has actually vetoed the permission given by the Medical Faculty and confirmed by the whole Senatus (or conjoined faculties).

“You will have seen my bad news in the papers I sent you on Saturday—I can no longer encourage you to come and settle in Edinburgh, as all my plans there have been disrupted once more. The University Court has actually rejected the permission given by the Medical Faculty and backed by the entire Senatus (or combined faculties).

This is very unusual and seems very hard.

This is really unusual and seems really difficult.

I expect to go to Scotland in a week or two still, to see whether nothing can be done about it. If I had any legal standpoint I would take the matter into the Courts.^[54] If I can’t get in at Edinburgh, then I shall try Glasgow, etc., but I should very much prefer Edinburgh....

I plan to go to Scotland in a week or two to see if there's anything that can be done about it. If I had any legal grounds, I would take the issue to court.^[54] If I can’t get into Edinburgh, then I’ll try Glasgow, but I would much rather go to Edinburgh....

You see it is very well that I asked you not to talk about Edinburgh to other folks. When I really succeed, you may ‘boast’ as much as you please! I am sure that anything I ever do in Medicine will be all yours.

You see, it’s really good that I asked you not to mention Edinburgh to anyone else. Once I actually succeed, you can brag as much as you want! I’m sure that whatever I achieve in Medicine will be entirely yours.

I amI am so glad that you are prospering so well, and getting patients sent you by the men. Thank you for all the papers you send me,—when you send whole papers, do mark the paragraph....

I amI am really glad to hear that you're doing so well and getting patients referred to you by the guys. Thanks for all the articles you send me—when you send complete articles, please highlight the paragraph....

247I am glad you like my Essay. It will be a good deal better when it is rewritten, for I have a good deal of new evidence to bring in. It may be out in July, or it may wait till October.

247I’m happy you like my essay. It will be much better once I rewrite it because I have a lot of new evidence to include. It might come out in July, or it might wait until October.

I have had terrible wear and tear to go through the last two months. Edinburgh was very very tiring work,—to repeat endless arguments to an endless succession of people took so very much out of one,—and then too there was really a great deal to do, and tho’ I took cabs recklessly I could not but get very tired....

I’ve had a really exhausting couple of months. Edinburgh was super tiring—repeating the same arguments to an endless stream of people drained me a lot—and there was honestly a lot to get done. Even though I took cabs without hesitation, I still couldn’t help but feel really worn out...

I am sure you are right about women being fitter to understand women. I will put in some more about that. Do you know whenever it comes home to me personally I am more and more amazed how women can go to men for uterine treatment. I think that, sooner than go to any, I would come across the Atlantic again to you. I wish you would let me know how often doctors have sent you their own relations. I wish Dr. Cabot or some leading doctor would publish a pamphlet or something expressing his strong belief in the ‘need of women doctors for young girls.’ This is the point that hits the public hardest, I think. If he could write me a short note that I could quote in my Essay, with or without his name, I would do so....

I'm sure you're right about women being better able to understand other women. I’ll share more about that. You know, every time I think about it, I’m increasingly amazed that women would go to men for uterine treatment. Honestly, I would rather cross the Atlantic again to see you than go to any male doctor. I’d love to know how often doctors have referred their own relatives to you. I wish Dr. Cabot or some prominent doctor would publish a pamphlet or something emphasizing the "need for female doctors for young girls." I think this point resonates with the public the most. If he could send me a short note that I could quote in my essay, with or without his name, I’d appreciate it.

There is such a nice girl here,—Ursula Du Pre (a sort of connection of Mrs. Jenkinson’s) who would like very much to study medicine, but her Mother objects strongly and she is too ill to be worried, she thinks.

There’s a really nice girl here—Ursula Du Pre (somehow related to Mrs. Jenkinson)—who really wants to study medicine, but her mom strongly objects, and she thinks her mom is too sick to be bothered.

It is a thousand pities, for she would make a splendid doctor;^[55] and, being extremely ‘well-born,’ it would have an excellent effect for her to study. She is very anxious to see you,—she has fallen in love with your picture. I tell everybody that neither that nor anything else can tell them how good and sweet you are, my dear child.

It’s such a shame, because she would be an amazing doctor;^[55] and since she comes from a good background, it would be great for her to pursue her studies. She’s really eager to see you—she's fallen for your picture. I tell everyone that neither that photo nor anything else can show them how kind and wonderful you are, my dear.

Your very aff.

S. L. J.-B.”

Meanwhile she was not left without sympathy from those whose sympathy was a distinction in itself. On April 5th Professor Masson had written:

Meanwhile, she wasn’t without support from those whose sympathy was notable in itself. On April 5th, Professor Masson wrote:

“Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Here is the latest news. The case was to come up today before the University Court—with these two new elements,—of which I heard only on Saturday: viz. (i) That Professor Turner has 248appealed independently to the Court, and (2) That there is a petition against you to the Court by a large number of students—not gainsaying the propriety of women studying or practising Medicine, but laying stress on the difficulty and the injury to male students, should a lady student be admitted to open lectures on certain medical subjects, so that a Professor should be forced to abstain from exhaustive treatment of those subjects.

Here is the latest news. The case was set to come up today before the University Court—with these two new points—which I only heard about on Saturday: (i) Professor Turner has independently appealed to the Court, and (2) There is a petition against you to the Court from a large number of students—not denying the appropriateness of women studying or practicing Medicine, but emphasizing the challenges and harm to male students if a female student is allowed to attend open lectures on certain medical topics, which would require a Professor to avoid a thorough discussion of those subjects.

It was known at a Senatus meeting on Saturday, that the appeal, with these new conditions, might come before the University Court today; and, in view of this, Professor Balfour and myself were deputed to appear before the Court and defend the vote of the Senatus,—representing the reasons of the majority of the Senatus for the vote and replying to any new objections.

It was announced at a Senate meeting on Saturday that the appeal, with these new conditions, might be brought before the University Court today. In light of this, Professor Balfour and I were appointed to appear before the Court to defend the Senate's vote, representing the majority's reasons for the decision and responding to any new objections.

We were at our post for the purpose today; but the University Court—whether from an excess of business, or because of a desire for delay in this particular question,—postponed the consideration of your case till the 19th of this month. So nothing was done today.

We were at our position for today's purpose; however, the University Court—whether due to being overwhelmed with business or wanting to delay this specific issue—decided to postpone your case until the 19th of this month. So, nothing happened today.

On the whole I am of opinion that delay will do no harm. Prof. Muirhead appeals (as far as I can understand him) not as an enemy, but in order that there may be farther discussion. Professor Turner’s appeal is grounded, I believe, on his own difficulty as regards Anatomy. And then there will be time for outside influences, and the considerations they may induce....

Overall, I believe that taking more time won’t hurt. Professor Muirhead is appealing (as far as I can tell) not as an opponent, but so that we can have further discussion. I think Professor Turner’s appeal is based on his own challenges with Anatomy. Plus, there will be time for external factors and the considerations they might bring.

Had I known in time that I should be deputed to defend the case, I would have written to you to request suggestions. As it is, there is plenty of time now, and what occurs to me immediately is that any facts showing the prevalence of right opinion in British Society (both Whig and Tory) might be converted into argument. Please write to me anything that you can collect on this head, i.e. facts and names to prove that the tendency to open the profession to women is approved by eminent and representative personages, of different political opinions, throughout the country.

If I had known sooner that I would be appointed to defend the case, I would have reached out to you for suggestions. As it stands, there’s plenty of time now, and what immediately comes to mind is that any facts demonstrating the support for the right opinion in British Society (both Whig and Tory) could be turned into an argument. Please send me anything you can gather on this topic, like facts and names that show the tendency to open the profession to women is endorsed by prominent and representative figures with diverse political views across the country.

I will write again. Meanwhile, with doubled zeal for all that has happened, I am,

I will write again. In the meantime, with renewed enthusiasm for everything that has happened, I am,

resolutely Yours,

David Masson.

P.S. Prof. Balfour received this morning a letter from the Medical Dean at Zurich of very satisfactory tenor.”

P.S. Prof. Balfour received a letter this morning from the Medical Dean at Zurich that was very positive.

“3, Rosebery Crescent,

April 20th, 1869.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Miss Jex-Blake

I regret to have to tell you that it went against you at the University Court yesterday. After the three appellants (Profs. Muirhead, Turner and Laycock) had been heard on the one side, and Prof. Balfour and I on the other, we left the Court to their 249private deliberations. These were long, and resulted, I understand, in an agreement to something like this effect—that considering the extreme inconvenience that would attend any present arrangement for the end in view, especially when that is demanded for only one lady, the Court, without pronouncing on the general question whether ladies ought to be educated in the medical classes at the University, do not consider it expedient, etc. I tried to get the exact terms of the resolution, but, not having seen the Secretary, report the substance as it was told me by Principal Sir A. Grant, and Mr. Nicolson. The Scotsman of tomorrow will probably have the communicated report: if so, I will send it to you.

I'm sorry to say that it didn’t go in your favor at the University Court yesterday. After the three appellants (Profs. Muirhead, Turner, and Laycock) presented their case, Prof. Balfour and I shared our perspective. We then left the Court to allow them to deliberate privately. Their discussions were lengthy and ended with an agreement that essentially stated that given the significant inconvenience any current arrangements would cause, especially since this is being requested for just one woman, the Court, without making a judgment on whether women should be allowed to attend the medical classes at the University, does not find it advisable, etc. I tried to get the exact wording of the resolution, but since I didn't speak with the Secretary, I'm reporting the gist of it as relayed to me by Principal Sir A. Grant and Mr. Nicolson. The Scotsman tomorrow will likely have the official report: if it does, I'll send it to you.

Only five of the Court were present,—the Principal, Mr. Gordon, Dr. Christison, Mr. Phin and Mr. Nicolson. I believe the petition of the 180 students against you was really the determining argument,—the Court foreseeing the chance of a disturbance, and not being prepared to run the risk. Except two, I rather gathered that those present favoured the notion of the medical education of women, if circumstances would permit, and, on the whole, what has occurred to me, since I learnt the decision, is, that, if a new attempt were to be made, on the University of Edinburgh (and I hope there will), and if it were to come in the form of a joint and simultaneous application from a few ladies (say from half a dozen to a dozen), then our authorities would be obliged to yield and to betake themselves to the consideration of the means whereby such a class could be best conducted—how far along with the men, how far apart.

Only five members of the Court were present: the Principal, Mr. Gordon, Dr. Christison, Mr. Phin, and Mr. Nicolson. I think the petition from the 180 students against you was really the deciding factor—the Court anticipated the possibility of a disturbance and wasn’t willing to take that risk. Other than two, it seemed that those present supported the idea of medical education for women, if conditions allowed. Overall, since I learned about the decision, my thinking is that if there’s a new attempt with the University of Edinburgh (and I truly hope there will be), and if it comes in the form of a joint and simultaneous application from a few women (let’s say six to twelve), then our authorities would have to give in and figure out how best to conduct such a class—whether to have it alongside the men or separate from them.

Much chagrined at the result, but with the firm conviction that your application and visit have done great good, and led to an advance in the right direction beyond what could have been anticipated.

I’m quite disappointed with the outcome, but I firmly believe that your efforts and visit have brought about significant positive change and have moved us forward in ways we didn’t expect.

I am,
dear Miss Jex-Blake,
Yours very truly,
David Masson.”

“Aberdour, Fife, April 20th.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

Your letter has followed me to this place, which must be my apology for not replying to it at once. I was indeed annoyed at the reversal of our judgment in your case at the University Court,—the more so considering how the Court,—at all times a most absurd body to review the decisions of the Senate—was constituted on that particular occasion. I have not a copy of the Universities Act with me, and I cannot therefore express any opinion as to whether this decision falls under the category of those which are reversible by the Queen in Council. If it does belong to this category I should 250say that your best course was at once to carry it there, and I should say, with the majority you had both in the Medical Faculty and in the Senatus, that the reversal of the decision of so very insignificant and prejudged a body as the Court was which judged of your case was pretty nearly certain. If this cannot be done—which Masson or Playfair or Sir A. Grant will at once tell you,—then I suspect the best thing is to bring the case before the next meeting of the University Council. It has no power to decide, but it may recommend to the University Court, and that will bring the matter up again, and the constitution of the Court can be better looked after than it appears to have been this time. It may be also—though here again I am speaking without the Act, that such a recommendation could be carried beyond the Court to the Queen in Council. Any claim to admission on a legal construction of the Charter would involve you in a law-suit which would not be decided for years and would cost x=£s.!! Against that course I have no hesitation in advising you, as a question of personal interest and comfort, though of the legal merits of the question I can say nothing. I certainly, in your case, however, would lose no time in seeing the Lord Advocate. Substantially, I think he will be with you, and his advice in all such matters is of great value, and will, I feel sure, be willingly given.

Your letter arrived while I was here, so I apologize for not responding right away. I was really frustrated by the reversal of the decision regarding your case at the University Court, especially considering how ridiculous the Court usually is when reviewing the Senate's decisions, and how it was set up on that particular occasion. I don’t have a copy of the Universities Act with me, so I can’t say for sure if this decision is one that can be overturned by the Queen in Council. If it is, I’d recommend taking it there immediately. Given the support you had from both the Medical Faculty and the Senatus, I think it’s highly probable that the reversal by such a small-minded and biased body as the Court that judged your case would succeed. If that’s not possible—which Masson, Playfair, or Sir A. Grant can confirm—then I think the best option is to present the case at the next University Council meeting. While it doesn’t have the power to decide, it can make recommendations to the University Court, which would bring the issue back up, allowing for better oversight of the Court’s formation than it seemed to have this time. It may also be possible—though I’m speaking without the Act—that such a recommendation could be taken to the Queen in Council. Pursuing admission based on a legal interpretation of the Charter would lead to a lawsuit that could drag on for years and cost x=£s.!! I strongly advise against that route for your personal comfort and interest, although I can’t speak to the legal merits. I would definitely recommend you see the Lord Advocate as soon as possible. I believe he’ll support you, and his advice is very valuable in these matters and will likely be given freely.

Mrs. Lorimer joins me in very kind regards, and in sympathy for the annoyance which you are subjected to, and I am,

Mrs. Lorimer sends her warm regards and shares in the frustration you're experiencing, and I do too.

Yours very faithfully,

J. Lorimer.”

In a later letter Professor Lorimer says:

In a later letter, Professor Lorimer writes:

“There is one point on which I find I am with you against many of my colleagues—even those who are guided by reason and not by tradition, viz. as to whether Medicine ought to be taught to ladies separately, or in the open classes along with the male students. As regards the question of delicacy, I am clearly and strongly of opinion that in holding the latter view your female instincts have guided you right. The root of indelicacy is immodesty, and the root of immodesty is immorality, and the arrangement that would in my opinion be immodest, and might be immoral, would be that such subjects should be taught by one man to one woman. The farther you recede from that arrangement, the more you separate yourself from the circumstances in which according to a well-known legal brocard, ‘charity ceases.’

“There’s one point where I find myself agreeing with you against many of my colleagues—even those who rely on reason rather than tradition: whether medicine should be taught to women separately or in mixed classes with male students. When it comes to the issue of delicacy, I firmly believe that your female instincts have led you to the right conclusion. The root of indelicacy is immodesty, and the root of immodesty is immorality. In my opinion, it would be immodest, and might even be immoral, for such subjects to be taught by one man to one woman. The further you move away from that arrangement, the more you distance yourself from the situations in which, according to a well-known legal maxim, ‘charity ceases.’”

The opposite pole as it seems to me, is the teaching of science publicly in an open class, irrespective of the sex, age, or other peculiarities of the audience; and mindful only of truth.

The opposite approach, as I see it, is teaching science publicly in an open class, regardless of the audience's sex, age, or any other characteristics, and focusing solely on truth.

I am aware, however, that there are other considerations which influence Sir Alexander Grant, and other members of Senatus who 251would probably agree with me on this point. If young men and women were thrown together daily, they say, imprudent marriages and the like would come of it. Even here, however, I think the balance of evil is on the existing arrangement, and not on that which you propose to substitute for it. I have not seen Mr. Mill’s ‘Subjection of Women’ and I don’t go in much for that sort of thing, but I cannot see why greater harm should come of men and women meeting at their occupations than at their amusements; and I think imprudent marriages are just as likely to come of croquet parties and riding-lessons as of medical lectures.

I understand, though, that there are other factors that affect Sir Alexander Grant and some of the other members of the Senatus, who would probably agree with me on this. They argue that if young men and women are together every day, it could lead to reckless marriages and similar issues. Still, I believe the current setup is worse than the alternative you’re suggesting. I haven't read Mr. Mill’s 'Subjection of Women,' and I’m not really into that kind of stuff, but I don't see why it would be more damaging for men and women to meet at work than at social events. I think careless marriages are just as likely to happen at croquet parties and riding lessons as they are at medical lectures.

As in later life one is sometimes apt to be deceived as to one’s earlier feelings, I asked a young bachelor whom most Edinburgh Mamas would not consider ‘an imprudent marriage’ what his feelings were on the subject; and his reply was ‘Anything rather than those dreary balls and idiotic evening parties which at present afford the only occasions on which men who go in for work in the early part of the day can make the acquaintance of persons of the other sex.’

As we get older, we can sometimes misinterpret our earlier emotions. I asked a young single guy whom most Edinburgh moms wouldn’t see as a ‘bad choice’ how he felt about it, and he replied, ‘Anything but those boring balls and pointless evening parties that are currently the only opportunities for men who work during the day to meet women.’

It can scarcely be doubted that by working together men and women would learn to know each other better, and that many mistakes that are now committed, would be avoided.

It's hard to doubt that by working together, men and women would get to know each other better, and many mistakes that are currently made would be prevented.

With kind regards from Mrs. Lorimer, believe me.

With warm regards from Mrs. Lorimer, trust me.

Yours very truly,

J. Lorimer.”

No one who has grasped something of S. J.-B.’s character will imagine that she was likely to mistake a check for a checkmate, though she sometimes made the converse mistake. She seems to have had some little correspondence with Professor (afterwards Sir Lyon) Playfair, for the following letter is among her papers:

No one who understands S. J.-B.’s character would think she could confuse a check for a checkmate, even though she occasionally made the opposite mistake. It looks like she had some correspondence with Professor (later Sir Lyon) Playfair, as the following letter is among her papers:

“Athenæum Club,

London, 10th May, 1869.

Dear Miss Blake,

Dear Ms. Blake,

I was much obliged by the list of women graduates and grieved at the result of your case in Edinburgh.

I really appreciated the list of women graduates and was saddened by the outcome of your case in Edinburgh.

There is no power of appeal against the decision of the University Court. You had overcome the prejudices of the profession, but not those of the students. With their strong opposition the University Court could not possibly decide otherwise, for Scottish Universities, without endowments, cannot go in face of the Constituency by which they are supported. It would not do to ruin classes by the admission of one pupil against the opinion of all the others. Though I regret the result, I am not surprised at it. In 252the face of this prejudice, the only hope that I see is for intending female graduates presenting themselves in sufficient numbers to induce the Universities to give them a separate education though a common graduation.

There’s no way to appeal the University Court’s decision. You managed to get past the biases of the profession, but not those of the students. With their strong opposition, the University Court couldn’t have made a different decision, because Scottish Universities, without endowments, can’t go against the Constituency that supports them. It wouldn’t be right to disadvantage whole classes by admitting one student against everyone else's opinion. Even though I regret the outcome, I'm not surprised by it. In the face of this bias, the only hope I see is for aspiring female graduates to come forward in enough numbers to encourage the Universities to provide them with a separate education while still allowing for a common graduation.

Yours truly,

Lyon Playfair.”

“What I thought and think,” wrote Sir Alexander Grant, “is that if a sufficient number of ladies could be found to constitute a small extra-academical class in medical subjects, the University of Edinburgh would be willing to make arrangements for the teaching of such a class, and to examining the lady pupils with a view to awarding them medical degrees.”

“What I thought and think,” wrote Sir Alexander Grant, “is that if enough women could be found to create a small extracurricular class in medical subjects, the University of Edinburgh would be open to making arrangements for teaching that class and examining the female students with the aim of awarding them medical degrees.”

In her diary S. J.-B. writes,

In her diary, S. J.-B. writes,

“Tuesday, May 11th.... Wrote today to ask to see Goschen,—see if anything can be made of appeal.”

“Tuesday, May 11th.... Wrote today to ask to see Goschen—see if anything can be done about the appeal.”

“Friday. Saw Goschen, who will have the Act ‘looked up’ about appeals. Lord Advocate also to ‘write.’ Slept at Hampstead Heath.”

“Friday. Met with Goschen, who will check on the Act regarding appeals. The Lord Advocate will also write. Slept at Hampstead Heath.”

“Saturday. Croquet. Came to Brighton by noon train.”

"Saturday. Croquet. Arrived in Brighton on the noon train."

She used to recall many years later how on these much-prized visits to the Corderys, some of the young folks got up at 6 o’clock in the morning to have another game of croquet before the work of the day began.

She would remember many years later how, during those valued visits to the Corderys, some of the young people would get up at 6 a.m. to play another game of croquet before starting their day’s work.

“Wednesday. Met U. at Waterloo Bridge. It did me good to see her. Had just heard ‘No appeal’ from Moncrieff, and no support except for private classes from Grant.”

“Wednesday. Met U. at Waterloo Bridge. It was nice to see her. I had just heard ‘No appeal’ from Moncrieff, and no support except for private classes from Grant.”

Here then she was obliged to stop and take breath. Failure? Surely not. I think no one can view the subject all round, as we have done in the foregoing chapters,—realizing something of the forces that were arrayed against her—without a feeling of amazement that she should have accomplished so much. Whatever the mistakes and failures of her subsequent life, that first campaign must surely be pronounced an astonishing success.

Here she had to pause and catch her breath. Failure? Absolutely not. I believe no one can look at the situation from all angles, as we have in the previous chapters—understanding some of the challenges she faced—without feeling amazed by how much she achieved. No matter what mistakes and setbacks happened later in her life, that initial effort has to be considered an incredible success.

253

CHAPTER V
OPENING OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY TO WOMEN

The results of the campaign, duly chronicled in the Scotsman, filtered through into other papers, and a certain amount of public interest was the result. Before many days had passed the following letter came to nerve a possibly flagging arm:

The results of the campaign, recorded in the Scotsman, were picked up by other papers, and this generated some public interest. Before long, the following letter arrived to encourage a potentially waning effort:

“8 Bedford Square, W.C.

May 15th. 69.

Madam,

I venture to write to you as I see that the decision of the University Court at Edinboro is based on the fact that they do not feel justified in making ‘a temporary arrangement in the interest of one lady.’ I also gather from the article in the Scotsman on the subject of your application that you are desirous that in some cases private instruction should be taken instead of compulsory attendance at the public classes.

I’m reaching out to you because I see that the University Court in Edinburgh feels they can’t justify making ‘a temporary arrangement for the benefit of one woman.’ I also noticed from the article in the Scotsman about your application that you want private instruction to be an option instead of being required to attend public classes.

As these are your views, I should be glad, if you renew your application, to join you in doing so, and I believe I know two or three other ladies who would be willing to do the same....

As these are your opinions, I would be happy to support you in making your request again, and I believe I know a couple of other women who would be willing to do the same...

Trusting you will pardon my troubling you on account of the great interest I feel in promoting the entrance of women into the medical profession, believe me, Madam,

Trusting you will forgive me for bothering you because I have a strong interest in encouraging women to enter the medical profession, believe me, Madam,

Yours truly,

Isabel Thorne.

Miss Jex-Blake.”

Miss Jex-Blake.

A few days later came an equally interesting letter from Mrs. Butler:

A few days later, I received another intriguing letter from Mrs. Butler:

“Your Essay is in Macmillan’s hands. You will receive a proof soon. I have asked him also to let me see one, and to let you have a duplicate to send to America.

“Your essay is with Macmillan. You’ll receive a proof soon. I’ve also asked him to show me one, and to send you a duplicate for America.”

I read it once again before sending it away. It is well worth while to have included in it so much research. It gives one strongly 254the impression while reading it, how much the present male monopoly of the profession is an innovation; also how at all times women seem to have striven to assert their right to a share in the healing art. I cannot help hoping the publication of your Essay may be the beginning of a new social era in those matters. God grant that it may!

I read it one more time before sending it off. It's definitely worth including so much research. While reading, it really hits you how the current male dominance in the profession is a recent change; it also shows how women have always tried to claim their place in the healing arts. I can’t help but hope that publishing your essay might mark the start of a new social era regarding these issues. Fingers crossed that it does!

It is indeed most trying to be kept back so long by the difficulty of getting leave to do good and to toil. O England, what a wicked amount of conservatism of selfish customs have you to answer for! I daresay to yourself your life must appear sometimes to be being wasted—but it is not so. In every good cause there must be martyrs and pioneers, who, with gifts for more, have had the hard task of opening the way for others to work. I saw a Miss Pechey at Leeds, who wishes to become a doctor, and Miss Wolstenholme told me of a lady she knows who is studying.

It’s truly frustrating to be held back for so long by the struggle to get permission to do good and to work hard. Oh England, how much selfish conservatism you have to answer for! I can imagine that at times, your life must feel like it’s being wasted—but that’s not the case. In every noble cause, there are martyrs and pioneers who, despite having the potential for more, have the difficult job of paving the way for others to contribute. I met a Miss Pechey in Leeds, who wants to become a doctor, and Miss Wolstenholme told me about a lady she knows who is studying.

I don’t think the story about the Greek lady at all indelicate. I hope no one else will think so. Is it not strange how people cry out at the indelicacy of speaking of a thing which it is far more indelicate should exist, and yet to its existence they have no objection.

I don’t find the story about the Greek lady offensive at all. I hope no one else does either. Isn’t it odd how people react to the inappropriateness of talking about something that is actually much more inappropriate to have happen, yet they don’t object to its existence?

In a later letter she says:

In a later letter, she mentions:

“... Have you seen Miss Pechey? She did not seem to me very clever, but very steady and nice,—a silent, quiet woman.”

“... Have you seen Miss Pechey? She didn’t come off as very smart to me, but she was really dependable and pleasant—a reserved, calm woman.”

One knows the fine reserve under which Edith Pechey’s great gifts lay hidden. “I only wish,” wrote a friend who knew her well, “that there were 12 more like her ready to begin.”

One understands the quiet strength behind Edith Pechey’s remarkable talents. “I only wish,” wrote a close friend, “that there were 12 more like her ready to start.”

This is what Miss Pechey had to say for herself:

“Before deciding finally to enter the medical profession, I should like to feel sure of success—not on my own account, but I feel that failure now would do harm to the cause, and that it is well that at least the first few women who offer themselves as candidates should stand above the average of men in their examinations.

“Before I make the final decision to enter the medical field, I want to be confident in my chances of success—not for my own sake, but because I believe that failing now could negatively impact the cause. It’s important that at least the first few women who step up as candidates excel beyond the average male candidates in their exams.”

Do you think anything more is requisite to ensure success than moderate abilities and a good share of perseverance? I believe I may lay claim to these, together with a real love of the subjects of study, but as regards any thorough knowledge of those subjects at present, I fear I am deficient in most. I am afraid I should not without a good deal of previous study be able to pass the preliminary exam, you mention, as my knowledge of Latin is small and of Euclid still less. Still, if no very extensive knowledge of these is required (and doctors generally seem to know very little of them) I could perhaps be ready by the next exam., and the study 255of Carpenter at the same time would be a relaxation. Could you give me any idea when the next matriculation exam. will be held, and whether candidates are examined in all the books of Euclid. If I thought I could prepare myself in time for this, I think I could arrange pecuniary and other matters so as to enter in October as you advise; and, though for some reasons I should prefer to wait another year, yet, as I am nearly 24, it will perhaps be better to lose no time.

Do you think there's anything more needed to ensure success than average abilities and a good amount of perseverance? I believe I can claim these, along with a genuine passion for my subjects of study, but as for a thorough understanding of those subjects right now, I’m afraid I’m lacking in most. I don’t think I could pass the preliminary exam you mentioned without a lot of prior study, as my knowledge of Latin is small and even less so for Euclid. Still, if a very extensive knowledge of these isn’t necessary (and doctors usually seem to know very little about them), I might be ready for the next exam, and studying Carpenter at the same time would be a nice break. Could you let me know when the next matriculation exam will take place, and whether candidates are tested on *all* the books of Euclid? If I thought I could prepare in time for this, I could figure out my finances and other matters to start in October as you suggested; and even though I’d prefer to wait another year for some reasons, since I’m nearly 24, it might be better to not waste any time.

Allow me to thank you for your kindness in assisting me with your advice. I feel especially grateful as I have no friend able to supply the information I need.

Allow me to thank you for your kindness in helping me with your advice. I'm especially grateful since I don't have a friend who can provide the information I need.

Believe me, dear Madam,
Yours sincerely,
Edith Pechey.”

We know how warmly S. J.-B. felt that the thanks were not all on the side of her unknown correspondents, and she would have felt this even more if she had known the sheer value as human beings of her first two recruits. Taking the trio together, one simply could not have wished for abler representatives of a struggling cause.

We understand how strongly S. J.-B. felt that the gratitude wasn't just one-sided with her unknown correspondents, and she would have felt this even more if she had known the tremendous worth of her first two recruits as individuals. Considering the three of them together, you certainly couldn't have asked for more capable advocates of a challenging cause.

Meanwhile a new avenue of hope had opened quite unexpectedly; Mrs. Jex-Blake had been seriously ill, and her daughter had taken her to consult Dr. King Chambers.

Meanwhile, a new avenue of hope had opened up quite unexpectedly; Mrs. Jex-Blake had been seriously ill, and her daughter had taken her to see Dr. King Chambers.

“I liked Dr. Chambers very much,” she writes to Dr. Sewall. “I first had a talk with him alone, and told him I was studyingstudying Medicine, about which he was very kind. He seemed to think that if women were willing to pay for separate Anatomical teaching, they could get into almost any of the London schools, and promised to enquire about his own school,—St. Mary’s. I doubt whether the way is quite so open as he thinks, but I shall be very glad to hear his report, and meanwhile shall go on to Edinbro’ and see what can be done there by way of a separate class. It would be a much greater thing in the end to get the Universities open, for of course the other medical schools feed Apothecaries’ Hall and the College of Surgeons, and do not give the M.D.

“I really liked Dr. Chambers,” she writes to Dr. Sewall. “I first spoke with him alone and told him I was studyingstudying Medicine, which he was very kind about. He seemed to think that if women were willing to pay for separate Anatomy classes, they could get into almost any of the London schools, and he promised to check on his own school, St. Mary’s. I doubt whether the access is as open as he believes, but I’ll be very glad to hear his feedback, and in the meantime, I’ll head to Edinburgh and see what can be done there regarding a separate class. Ultimately, it would be much better to get the Universities to accept women, since the other medical schools feed into Apothecaries’ Hall and the College of Surgeons and don’t grant the M.D.”

I think it very possible that by guaranteeing some sufficient fees for two or three courses (whatever the number of pupils) we could get the thing tried, and, when once publicly done, I am sure numbers would flock in. I had rather borrow and spend some money aboutabout it than be bothered any more. But of that I can tell you more next week.”

I believe it’s very likely that by securing enough funding for two or three courses (regardless of how many students enroll), we could give it a shot, and once it’s out there, I’m sure many would join in. I’d rather borrow and spend some money about it than deal with this hassle any longer. But I can give you more details next week.

256In her diary she writes (June 19th):

“After opposite advice from Mrs. Butler (for St. Mary’s), and Salzmann (Edinbro’) and much deliberation, decided for ‘baith, my lord.’ The petition to go today to Dr. Chambers (signed by Miss Pechey and Mrs. Thorne),—mine to Senatus on 25th. and to University Court July 5th.”5th.”

“After receiving conflicting advice from Mrs. Butler (for St. Mary’s) and Salzmann (Edinburgh) and after a lot of thought, I decided on ‘both, my lord.’ The petition to go today to Dr. Chambers (signed by Miss Pechey and Mrs. Thorne) — mine to Senatus on the 25th and to the University Court on July 5th.5th.”

Dr. King Chambers spared himself no trouble in the matter.

Dr. King Chambers went to great lengths in the matter.

“I have got over the chief difficulty,” he writes, “viz., that of engaging the Anatomy lecturer, Mr. Arthur Norton, to undertake a class of ladies. There is also a room they could have for dissecting, and arrangements may be made with the porter’s wife to take care of their cloaks and attend to their comforts. The other lecturers shall be approached in due course, but I think Mr. Norton is the chief one to be considered. What number of ladies can you get to form a class?”

“I've overcome the main challenge,” he writes, “which was getting the Anatomy lecturer, Mr. Arthur Norton, to take on a class of women. There's also a room they can use for dissection, and we can arrange for the porter’s wife to look after their cloaks and ensure their comfort. We’ll reach out to the other lecturers in due time, but I believe Mr. Norton is the most important one to focus on. How many women can you gather to form a class?”

A fortnight later, however, he is obliged to write:

A couple of weeks later, though, he has to write:

“Dear Madam,

“Dear Ma'am,

I fear you will be disappointed with the result of my application to the School Committee of St. Mary’s. It was a full meeting which had been already called on another subject; so I took the opportunity of getting as many of my colleagues as possible to freely state their opinions. And the result is my agreeing with the idea you expressed in your note, that the most insuperable of your difficulties lay in the direction of the students—to which I may add their parents and guardians; of whom, as customers, private firms in the position of the medical schools of London, must stand in awe. Such a sort of partnership is essentially opposed to change, as, if even a minority object to a novelty, their colleagues shrink from forcing it upon them.

I’m afraid you might be let down by the outcome of my application to the School Committee of St. Mary’s. It was a full meeting already scheduled to discuss another topic, so I took the chance to gather as many of my colleagues as possible to share their thoughts openly. As a result, I agree with the point you made in your note that the biggest challenges you face involve the students—and I would also add their parents and guardians. As clients, private firms, like the medical schools in London, have to be careful around them. This kind of partnership fundamentally resists change because if even a small group opposes a new idea, their peers hesitate to push it through.

It seems hard that British women should be sent abroad to get that of which there is such abundance at home, but circumstances seem to render this inevitable.

It seems unfair that British women should be sent overseas to obtain what is so readily available at home, but circumstances make this unavoidable.

Repeating my regrets that I should have deluded you with false hopes, I am

Repeating my regrets that I misled you with false hopes, I am

Yours faithfully,

T.K. Chambers.”

It is pleasant to note that, if S. J.-B. failed to get from Dr. Chambers the thing she wanted at the moment, she had at least found in him a lifelong friend and helper.

It’s nice to see that even though S. J.-B. didn't get what she wanted from Dr. Chambers at that moment, she at least found a lifelong friend and supporter in him.

It was well that she had decided for “baith, my lord.” She now once more approached the University Court in the 257person of its President, the Rector, asking whether they would remove their present veto in case arrangements could be made for the instruction of women in separate classes; and whether in that case women would be allowed to matriculate in the usual way, and to undergo the ordinary examination, with a view to obtaining medical degrees in due course.

It was good that she had chosen “both, my lord.” She again approached the University Court through its President, the Rector, asking if they would lift their current veto if arrangements could be made for teaching women in separate classes; and whether, in that case, women would be allowed to enroll as usual and take the standard examination, aiming to obtain medical degrees in due time.

She also wrote to the Senatus, asking them to recommend the matriculation of women as medical students on the understanding that separate classes should be formed: and she addressed a letter to the Dean of the Medical Faculty offering on behalf of her fellow-students and herself to guarantee whatever minimum fee the Faculty might fix as a remuneration for these separate classes.

She also wrote to the Senate, asking them to support the enrollment of women as medical students, with the understanding that separate classes would be created. Additionally, she sent a letter to the Dean of the Medical Faculty, offering to guarantee any minimum fee the Faculty might set as payment for these separate classes, on behalf of herself and her fellow students.

“I appreciate your truly kind and thoughtful plans with regard to the pecuniary arrangements,” writes Miss Pechey in this connection. “I shall be sorry if my means will not allow me to take a full share of the expenses, but I am afraid I shall not be able to afford more than double the usual fees for a man.”

“I really appreciate your kind and thoughtful plans regarding the financial arrangements,” writes Miss Pechey in this context. “I’ll be sorry if my means don’t allow me to cover a full share of the expenses, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to afford more than double the usual fees for a man.”

S. J.-B. had returned to Edinburgh in order to further arrangements, and to meet any difficulties that might arise. The first thing to be done was to secure teachers, and, now that it came to the point, some even of those who had been most favourable showed a singular reluctance to take the plunge. Their enthusiasm had had time to cool.

S. J.-B. had come back to Edinburgh to finalize plans and handle any challenges that might come up. The first task was to find teachers, and now that it was time to take action, some of those who had been most supportive were oddly hesitant to go for it. Their excitement had faded.

“June 26th ... Today went to see A. Most disappointingly timorous,—‘could not give the extra time himself,’ though he did not refuse to see the importance and responsibility of the case. I hope he will vote for me still.

“June 26th ... Today I went to see A. He was very hesitant—‘could not give the extra time himself,’ even though he acknowledged the significance and responsibility of the case. I hope he will still vote for me.”

B. very disappointing,—very avaricious,—trying for the 100 guineas.

B. very disappointing,—very greedy,—trying for the 100 guineas.

Balfour, out.

Balfour, you're out.

I very disheartened and weary....

I feel very disheartened and tired.

I do fear failure now,—indeed it seems to me probable, in Medical Faculty.

I do fear failure now — in fact, it seems likely to me in the Medical Faculty.

And then all the time and effort wasted since March 1st! A year’s steady work would have been less strain!...

And all the time and effort wasted since March 1st! A year of consistent work would have been less stressful!

If one had but faith! Ought one not to say, ‘I fight and work my best,—God will bring out the best result,—let me not prejudge what is best.’best.’

If only we had faith! Shouldn't we say, ‘I’ll fight and do my best—God will bring about the best outcome—let me not assume what is best.best.’

And so be content either way.”

And so be happy either way.

258

“June 30th. Christison has had to go to London,—wrathfully enough they say,—hurrah! I hear that he asked to have the day changed, and that Balfour refused,—the brick!

“June 30th. Christison had to go to London—rather angrily, they say—hooray! I hear he requested to change the date, and Balfour refused—the jerk!

Of course this adds to my chances.

Of course, this increases my chances.

Also I had a long crack with Turner this morning. He did not speak against it as in his own person,—only evidently thought how awful it would be if ‘odium were thrown’ on two professors for refusing perhaps what others had granted. I suggested that it might perhaps be more awful to refuse all women for the sake of that.

Also, I had a long chat with Turner this morning. He didn’t criticize it personally—he just seemed to think about how terrible it would be if people turned against two professors for possibly turning down something that others had accepted. I pointed out that it might actually be worse to deny all women just because of that.

9 p.m. The 40 lines of Virgil written out [in preparation for the matriculation examination that as yet was a more than doubtful prospect], eyes and head weary. (Oh, dear, ‘it is not good for man to be alone.’)

9 p.m. The 40 lines of Virgil were written out [in preparation for the matriculation exam, which was still a very uncertain prospect], feeling tired in both eyes and head. (Oh, dear, 'it’s not good for man to be alone.')

By this time tomorrow Medical Faculty at least decided.

By this time tomorrow, the Medical Faculty will have at least made a decision.

Thrown back utterly again? Today for the first time since Friday I hope a little. (Something of the Caliban in me says,—‘Unlucky‘Unlucky to say so!’)”

Thrown back completely again? For the first time since Friday, I have a bit of hope. (Something of the Caliban in me says,—Unlucky‘Unlucky to say so!’)”

“July 1st. Yesterday O. H.’s ‘Two Poor Courts’ interested me much.

“July 1st. Yesterday O. H.’s ‘Two Poor Courts’ really caught my attention.

7 p.m. Won after all!—and I do think this must be at last ‘the beginning of the end.’ For me 4 out of 6:—Balfour, Bennett, Spence, M‘Lagan. Turner would not vote dead against it, as Laycock wished, so those two did not vote, but Laycock ‘protested’....

7 p.m. Won after all!—and I really think this must finally be 'the beginning of the end.' For me 4 out of 6:—Balfour, Bennett, Spence, M‘Lagan. Turner wouldn’t vote outright against it, as Laycock wanted, so those two didn’t vote, but Laycock ‘protested’....

Allman absurdly wroth (to Masson) about canvassing and unjustifiable, etc., etc., seeming to mean that my poor little calls on people had interfered with their judicial wisdom.

Allman was ridiculously angry (to Masson) about canvassing and it being unreasonable, etc., etc., suggesting that my innocent little visits to people had disrupted their sound judgment.

Just seen a letter from A. G. J.—I must hear that organ at Lucerne (with its storm, etc.) before I die.”

Just saw a letter from A. G. J.—I have to hear that organ in Lucerne (with its storm, etc.) before I die.

“Friday, July 2nd.... 6 p.m. Hurrah!—The Senate granted my request without limitation and without division, though M‘Pherson tried to get up a motion for delay,—no one (not even Turner!) would second him. Turner wished to have it recorded that he ‘did not vote,’ but as no vote had to be taken this could not be, so he reluctantly had it recorded that he ‘dissented,’ which I regret, for I am sure that it is more than he wished.

“Friday, July 2nd.... 6 p.m. Hurrah!—The Senate approved my request with no restrictions and no debate, even though M‘Pherson attempted to propose a motion for a delay—nobody (not even Turner!) would support him. Turner wanted it noted that he 'did not vote,' but since there was no vote to be taken, that wasn’t possible, so he reluctantly had it noted that he 'dissented,' which I regret, as I'm sure it’s more than he wanted.”

Present,—14. Grant, M‘Pherson, Lorimer, Masson, Wilson, Tait, Kelland, Craufurd, Liston, Stevenson, Balfour, Bennett, Spence, Turner.”

Present,—14. Grant, McPherson, Lorimer, Masson, Wilson, Tait, Kelland, Craufurd, Liston, Stevenson, Balfour, Bennett, Spence, Turner.”

“Monday. The day! Even now (4.30 p.m.) a University of Britain may be literally open to women,—if so, won’t that have been worth doing?

“Monday. The day! Even now (4:30 p.m.) a University of Britain might actually be open to women—if that's the case, wouldn't that have been worth it?”

When I say to Alice, ‘The University Court may still stop it all,’—‘They’d better not!’ quo’ she ferociously.”

When I say to Alice, ‘The University Court might still put a stop to everything,’—‘They better not!’ she replied fiercely.

259What actually happened at the University Court this time is best related in a letter to Dr. Lucy Sewall:

259What really went down at the University Court this time is best described in a letter to Dr. Lucy Sewall:

“Maitland Street, Edinburgh.

July 6th, 69.

My darling,

My love,

You may address to me here for a fortnight after you get this, for I expect now to be here till about August 15th.

You can reach out to me here for two weeks after you receive this, as I plan to be here until around August 15th.

The Medical Faculty and the Senatus have both voted in favour of special classes in the University for Women, and the University Court at their meeting yesterday passed a vote in favour of the measure. It seems however that there are some legal difficulties about the old Charter, etc., and that the matter will require the sanction of the Privy Council, which will cause delay, but I think no real difficulty,—for the Queen is known to be favourable to women doctors; and the present government is specially liberal. Indeed it has this real advantage that it will make the whole thing very public and very safe and permanent,—so that it will be almost impossible ever again to exclude women.

The Medical Faculty and the Senate have both voted to support special classes at the University for Women, and the University Court passed a vote in favor of the measure at their meeting yesterday. However, it seems there are some legal issues related to the old Charter, which means the matter will need approval from the Privy Council, causing some delays. Still, I don't think this will pose a real problem—it's known that the Queen supports women doctors, and the current government is particularly progressive. In fact, this has the significant advantage of making the whole situation very public, safe, and permanent, making it nearly impossible to exclude women again.

So now I am looking forward to years of steady work here, and am so very glad to be able to do so!

So now I'm looking forward to years of steady work here, and I'm really glad to have the opportunity to do this!

I am working at my Latin, etc., for the Matric. examination. It would astonish the women studying in Boston to see the examination that we have to pass here before we can even begin Medicine,—and it is a capital thing, because it will keep out ignorant and silly women to a great degree.... Oh, dear child, it is so nice to look forward to having you here next summer to see and know all about it. You will so enjoy Edinburgh. I have been thinking about taking rooms or a house lately, and I keep saying to myself, ‘You must have a room full of sun for my doctor!’ It is so good to look forward to seeing you....

I'm working on my Latin and other subjects for the Matriculation exam. It would surprise the women studying in Boston to see the exam we have to pass before we can even start studying Medicine—and it's a great thing because it will mostly keep out ignorant and foolish women.... Oh, dear child, it's so wonderful to look forward to having you here next summer to see and experience everything. You'll really enjoy Edinburgh. I've been thinking about renting a room or a house lately, and I keep telling myself, ‘You need to have a sunny room for my doctor!’ It’s so nice to look forward to seeing you....

Have you seen Mill’s Subjection of Women? Your Father would delight in it. I mean to send him a copy as a remembrance.

Have you read Mill’s Subjection of Women? Your dad would really enjoy it. I'm planning to send him a copy as a keepsake.

I am very glad to see that the British Medical Journal encourages the opening of classes for women. I shall send you the number.

I’m really happy to see that the British Medical Journal supports the opening of classes for women. I’ll send you the issue.

I am only anxious now to have a good big class of women and of a creditable kind.... How I wish that you would come and settle here! You could establish a Dispensary at once, and have all us students at your orders. We shall want sadly some teaching of that sort.... This climate would be so much better for you, and I should feel so much happier about you if you were here. I know if you are in Boston, I shall worry about you all winter....

I really just want a good-sized class of women, and a respectable one at that... How I wish you would come and settle down here! You could set up a Dispensary right away and have all of us students at your service. We really need that kind of teaching... This climate would suit you so much better, and I would feel so much happier about you if you were here. I know if you're in Boston, I'll be worried about you all winter...

Well, Goodbye, my dear child! Whether you come or stay, all good be with you!

Well, goodbye, my dear child! Whether you choose to come or stay, I wish you all the best!

Your very aff.

S. L. J.-B.”

260The reader will scarcely be surprised to learn that when on July 23rd the University Court formally acceded to her petition, S. J.-B. was almost too tired to feel elated, though she admits that she would be “grieving bitterly had things been otherwise.” In addition to her other work, she had spent a fortnight in the house of a very dear friend, nursing several serious cases of scarlet fever. Trained nurses for private houses were almost unknown in those days, and she did not spare herself. On July 9th she had written to ask Mrs. Thorne—who was in Aberdeen at the time—to join her in Edinburgh. “I won’t take the whole responsibility alone,”—the responsibility of engaging lecturers and guaranteeing fees,—she confides to her diary. The grasshopper had become a burden. Even the modest amount of Latin required for the Matriculation Examination was a great effort to her, and she knew of old the importance of husbanding her strength.

260The reader will hardly be surprised to learn that when the University Court officially accepted her petition on July 23rd, S. J.-B. was almost too exhausted to feel happy, although she admits she would have been “grieving bitterly had things been otherwise.” On top of her other work, she had spent two weeks at a very close friend's house, caring for several serious cases of scarlet fever. Back then, trained nurses for private homes were almost unheard of, and she didn’t hold back. On July 9th, she wrote to ask Mrs. Thorne—who was in Aberdeen at the time—to come join her in Edinburgh. “I won’t take the whole responsibility alone,”—the responsibility of securing lecturers and guaranteeing fees,—she confides in her diary. The grasshopper had become a burden. Even the small amount of Latin needed for the Matriculation Examination was a huge effort for her, and she knew from experience how important it was to conserve her energy.

“Most folk,” she says with great truth and pathos,—“or at least many, have only their indolence to strive with. If they conquer that, all serene. I (after that done) have to pause half way,—ware crash!—and to calculate nicely how much brain force I dare bring to bear or use up.

“Most people,” she says with great sincerity and emotion, “or at least many, only have their laziness to deal with. If they overcome that, everything is calm. I (once that’s out of the way) have to stop halfway—watch out for a crash!—and carefully calculate how much mental energy I can afford to apply or expend.”

Ah, well,—shall my strength be as my day,—or isn’t it fair to apply that to self-imposed work?”

Ah, well—will my strength match my efforts today—or is it unfair to say that about work I've put on myself?

“Self-imposed?” There is a big question involved here. No doubt the readers of this book will answer it in different ways.

“Self-imposed?” That raises a big question. No doubt, readers of this book will answer it in different ways.

In any case she had achieved her task. Notwithstanding a direct negative, moved by the Revd. Dr. Phin, the resolution of the UniversityUniversity Court was approved by the General Council on October 29th, 1869, and was sanctioned by the Chancellor on November 12th.12th. The following regulations, drawn up by the Court, were officially issued at the same date, and inserted in the Calendar of the University:

In any case, she had accomplished her goal. Despite a direct rejection from the Revd. Dr. Phin, the resolution of the UniversityUniversity Court was approved by the General Council on October 29th, 1869, and was authorized by the Chancellor on November 12th.12th. The following regulations, prepared by the Court, were officially published on the same date and included in the Calendar of the University:

“(1.) Women shall be admitted to the study of medicine in the University; (2.) The instruction of women for the profession of medicine shall be conducted in separate classes, confined entirely to women; (3.) The Professors of the Faculty of Medicine shall, 261for this purpose, be permitted to have separate classes for women; (4.) Women, not intending to study medicine professionally, may be admitted to such of these classes, or to such part of the course of instruction given in such classes, as the University Court may from time to time think fit and approve; (5.) The fee for the full course of instruction in such classes shall be four guineas; but in the event of the number of students proposing to attend any such class being too small to provide a reasonable remuneration at that rate, it shall be in the power of the Professor to make arrangements for a higher fee, subject to the usual sanction of the University Court. (6.) All women attending such classes shall be subject to all the regulations now or at any future time in force in the University as to the matriculation of students, their attendance on classes, Examination or otherwise; (7.) The above regulations shall take effect as from the commencement of session 1869-70.”

“(1.) Women will be allowed to study medicine at the University; (2.) Instruction for women in the field of medicine will be conducted in separate classes exclusively for women; (3.) Professors in the Faculty of Medicine will be allowed to hold separate classes for women for this purpose; (4.) Women who do not intend to pursue medicine professionally may be admitted to these classes, or parts of the course offered in these classes, as the University Court may determine and approve from time to time; (5.) The fee for the complete course in these classes will be four guineas; however, if the number of students planning to attend any class is too small to provide reasonable compensation at that rate, the Professor may arrange for a higher fee, subject to the usual approval of the University Court. (6.) All women attending these classes must comply with all regulations now or in the future regarding student matriculation, class attendance, examinations, or otherwise; (7.) These regulations will take effect starting from the beginning of the 1869-70 session.”

This is how the “first British University”—the University of Edinburgh—was thrown open to women.

This is how the "first British University"—the University of Edinburgh—welcomed women.

262

CHAPTER VI
THE HOPE SCHOLARSHIP

The month of August brought some rest and refreshment, though S. J.-B. remained in Edinburgh to “coach” for the Matriculation Examination. Mrs. Burn Murdoch put her spacious and comfortable house for a little time at the solitary student’s disposal, and, to S. J.-B.’s great joy, Miss Du Pre came to visit her.

The month of August provided some rest and refreshment, but S. J.-B. stayed in Edinburgh to prepare for the Matriculation Examination. Mrs. Burn Murdoch offered her spacious and comfortable house for a short time to the solitary student, and, to S. J.-B.’s great delight, Miss Du Pre came to visit her.

There were delightful excursions up the Forth, through the Trossachs, and even farther afield, and S. J.-B. spent what is now known as a week-end, at his country-place, with Mr. Findlay of the Scotsman, and his wife. One realizes by many little indications how her views on the whole question of women were becoming explicit. In the course of her visit, her host showed her letters he had received from a clever American woman—a journalist of sorts, apparently—in the course of which she asked him to “help the little woman,” “the wee bit thing.” “When will women learn,” says S. J.-B., “if they claim to stand on common ground at all, to ‘stand upright,’ to ask only ‘fair field and no favour’!”

There were enjoyable trips up the Forth, through the Trossachs, and even further away, and S. J.-B. spent what we now call a weekend at his country home with Mr. Findlay of the Scotsman and his wife. You can see from many small signs how her opinions about women’s issues were becoming clearer. During her visit, her host showed her letters he had received from a smart American woman—apparently a journalist—who asked him to “help the little woman,” “the wee bit thing.” “When will women learn,” says S. J.-B., “if they want to stand on common ground at all, to ‘stand upright,’ to ask only ‘fair field and no favour’!”

On October 10th she moved into No. 15 Buccleuch Place, “the house nice, airy, wholesome, roomy,—rent, taxes and all probably £45,” and, on the following day Miss Pechey lunched with her. A week later S. J.-B. sums the new comrade up:

On October 10th, she moved into No. 15 Buccleuch Place, “the house nice, bright, healthy, spacious—rent, taxes, and everything probably around £45,” and the next day Miss Pechey had lunch with her. A week later, S. J.-B. sums up the new friend:

“I think her strong, ready-handed, with ‘faculty,’ great ability, resolution, judgment; great calmness and quiet of manner and action, and probably strength of feeling; good taste, good manner; very pleasant face; rather good feet and hands; considerable 263sense of humour; lots of energy and interest in things,—witness dissecting the slugs, keeping caterpillars, etc. In fine, as good an ally and companion as could well be had.”

“I think she's strong and capable, with skill and great ability, determination, and good judgment; she's very calm and composed in her demeanor and actions, and likely has strong feelings; she has good taste and manners; a very pleasant face; fairly nice feet and hands; a decent sense of humor; and a lot of energy and interest in things—like dissecting slugs and raising caterpillars. In short, she's as good an ally and companion as anyone could hope for.”

She had occasion to add considerably to this estimate as life went on, but in no wise to subtract from it.

She had the chance to significantly increase this estimate as life went on, but she couldn’t reduce it in any way.

Meanwhile Mrs. Evans had resolved to throw in her lot with the little band, and S. J.-B. was coaching her in Arithmetic. Miss Chaplin (afterwards the wife of Professor Ayrton) had also joined their ranks, and it was a gallant and creditable little phalanx that made its way up to the University on October 19th to undergo the Matriculation Examination.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Evans decided to join the small group, and S. J.-B. was helping her with Arithmetic. Miss Chaplin (who later became Professor Ayrton's wife) also joined them, and it was a brave and commendable little team that headed to the University on October 19th to take the Matriculation Examination.

Of course they all passed, and passed far above the average, though there was one “narrow squeak” in Arithmetic. They were all cultivated women, all on their mettle, and the result was scarcely more than might reasonably have been anticipated. “We believe,—” as a local paper had occasion to say, after a similar result some ten months later,

Of course, they all passed, and scored well above average, even though there was one close call in Arithmetic. They were all educated women, all motivated, and the result was hardly surprising. "We believe," as a local newspaper would later comment after a similar outcome about ten months later,

“We believe that these results prove, not that women’s capacities are better than those of men,—a thing that few people would assert,—but that these women who are devoting themselves to obtain, in spite of all difficulties, a thorough knowledge of their profession, are far more thoroughly in earnest than most of the men are, and that their ultimate success is certain in proportion. Nor would we omit the inference that, this being so, those who wantonly throw obstacles in the way of this gallant little band, incur a proportionately heavy responsibility, as wanting not only in the spirit of chivalry, but even in the love of fair play, which we should be sorry to think wanting in any Briton.”^[56]

“We believe that these results show not that women's abilities are better than men's—something few people would claim—but that these women, who are dedicated to gaining a thorough understanding of their profession despite all the challenges, are much more serious about it than most men, and their eventual success is guaranteed accordingly. We also want to highlight that those who thoughtlessly create obstacles for this brave group take on a significant responsibility, as they lack both the spirit of chivalry and even a sense of fair play, which we would hate to think is missing in any Briton.”^[56]

It was natural, however, that friends and well-wishers should be not a little elated. Here is one of many delightful letters:

It was only natural that friends and supporters would feel quite happy. Here’s one of many lovely letters:

“Oct. 22, 1869.

My dear Miss Jex-Blake,

This is just one word of warmest congratulation from us both to you and the other ladies. We are rejoicing more than I can tell you over the results of the examination. I have been a prisoner today with a severe cold, or I should have been unable to rest until I had shaken hands with you. Shall you be at home any 264time tomorrow after one o’clock? If so, I shall like to come and see you and Miss Pechey.

This is just a warm congratulations from both of us to you and the other ladies. We are more thrilled than I can express about the results of the exam. I've been stuck at home today with a bad cold, otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to relax until I had shaken hands with you. Will you be home anytime tomorrow after one o'clock? If so, I'd love to come by and see you and Miss Pechey.

Do send me a line to tell me if you are as happy as I fancy you.

Please drop me a message to let me know if you're as happy as I think you are.

Yours faithfully,

E. Rosaline Masson.

Mr. Masson was very much gratified by the papers of the ladies. They fully justified his highest hopes.”

Mr. Masson was really pleased with the ladies' papers. They completely met his highest expectations.

From diary:

“Tuesday, Nov. 2nd. ‘The deed—of life—was done!’—This morning, 11.30 a.m., I, S. L. J.-B., first of all women, matriculated as ‘Civis Academiae Edinensis!’—Tonight for the first time 5 women are undergraduates!—Hurrah!

“Tuesday, Nov. 2nd. ‘The act—of life—was completed!’—This morning, 11:30 a.m., I, S. L. J.-B., the first woman, enrolled as 'Citizen of the University of Edinburgh!'—Tonight for the first time 5 women are undergraduates!—Hurrah!

‘With exactness grinds He all.’”

“I do indeed congratulate you undergraduates with all my heart,” wrote Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, who had now settled in London. “It seems to me the grandest success that women have yet achieved in England; it is the great broad principle established that conducts to every noble progress.

“I truly congratulate you undergraduates with all my heart,” wrote Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, who had now settled in London. “I believe this is the greatest success that women have achieved in England so far; it represents a significant principle that leads to every noble advancement.”

I feel as if I must come up to Edinburgh in the course of the winter, to see and bless the class! Perhaps towards the close of the term would be best,—advise me.”

I feel like I have to go to Edinburgh sometime during the winter to see and support the class! Maybe it would be best to go towards the end of the term—let me know what you think.

So began a winter’s work that for most, if not all, of the women students, was an experience of extraordinary interest and happiness. S. J.-B. and Edith Pechey had settled together in Buccleuch Place, and the house was a rendezvous for a choice little circle. It would be difficult to say which of the two proved the greater attraction to their friends. Miss Pechey was younger, more adaptable, less obviously alarming, though possibly more critical really, in proportion as she had seen less of life. The reader is already aware that S. J.-B., though a most interesting person to live with, was not by any means always an easy person to live with, particularly when she was overworked and overstrained. For her friends as well as herself it was sometimes a question—in her own significant words—of, “Ware crash!” Moreover, although she often gave to others the advice,—“Glissez, mortels: n’appuyez pas!”, she not infrequently failed to act on it herself: she still, as when a child, staked her happiness too readily on matters that might better have been 265regarded as trifles: and this is a characteristic that becomes a more serious factor in domestic and social life as the years go on. On the other hand, when she really “let herself go” in her most intimate circle, there was no one like her. The diary and the letters give scarcely an indication of the sense of humour and fun that were so ready to bubble over into real whole-hearted laughter. The eyes so familiar with sorrow could still sparkle with merriment like a child’s, and, when anything struck her as irresistibly preposterous or comical, she had a way of “tossing them up to the ceiling and catching them again” that was a joy to behold. Increasingly as life went on, she was a touchstone on which to test the things that might be said, the stories that might be told. She could enjoy a joke that would have shocked many women of her generation; but, as her Mother had said long before, “anything impure ran off her mind like quicksilver,” and she was a past master in the art of calling home a conversation that was lingering too long in permissible bye-ways.

So began a winter’s work that for most, if not all, of the women students, was an experience of extraordinary interest and happiness. S. J.-B. and Edith Pechey had settled together in Buccleuch Place, and the house was a meeting for a select little group. It would be hard to say which of the two drew more friends. Miss Pechey was younger, more flexible, less intimidating on the surface, though possibly more critical because she had seen less of life. The reader already knows that S. J.-B., while very interesting to live with, was not always easy to be around, especially when she was stressed and overwhelmed. For both her friends and herself, it sometimes became—in her own telling—“Ware crash!” Moreover, while she often advised others to—"Slide, mortals: don’t push!"—she didn’t always follow her own advice: she still, like a child, too often staked her happiness on things that were better viewed as trifles, a trait that became a bigger issue in domestic and social life as the years passed. On the other hand, when she truly opened up in her closest circle, no one could match her. The diary and letters barely hint at the humor and fun that could erupt into genuine hearty laughter. The eyes so familiar with sadness could still light up with joy like a child’s, and when something struck her as irresistibly ridiculous or funny, she had a way of “tossing them up to the ceiling and catching them again” that was a delight to see. As life went on, she became a touchstone for testing what could be said and what stories could be told. She could appreciate a joke that would have shocked many women of her generation; but, as her mother had said long ago, “anything impure ran off her mind like quicksilver,” and she was a master at steering conversations back on track when they lingered too long in inappropriate territory.

More than this,—even at the time of which we are writing, she was one of those with whom people know instinctively that it is safe to speak, not only of the great things of life, but of the disgraceful things, or the small disconcerting things that want to be looked at in an atmosphere of greatness. She was a Mother Confessor to many. “Now straight into the fire!” she says in her diary of certain letters she had received; and the smoke of that sacrifice meant something, for—born chronicler as she was—it was pain and grief to her to destroy a letter at any time.

More than that, even during the time we’re talking about, she was someone that people instinctively felt safe confiding in, not just about the big issues in life, but also about the embarrassing things and the little unsettling details that need to be examined within a broader context. She was a trusted confidante for many. “Now straight into the fire!” she writes in her diary about certain letters she had received; and the sacrifice of burning them held significance, because—being a natural storyteller—it pained her to destroy a letter at any time.

She was particularly happy that winter term. On the last night of the year she writes in her diary:

She was especially happy that winter term. On the last night of the year, she writes in her diary:

“11.30 p.m. The long tangle of accounts unravelled at last!—‘after long travail, good repose!’

“11:30 p.m. The complicated mess of accounts finally got sorted out!—‘after a lot of effort, a well-deserved rest!’”

In more senses than one.

In more ways than one.

Nine years since that look from the window,—‘And may the New Year cherish.’

Nine years since that glance from the window,—‘And may the New Year cherish.’

Since then I suppose no such (visibly) important year in my life. One very dear friend won,—one strong ally,—Edinburgh opened!—What if one is a little tired? ‘After long travail good repose!’

Since then, I guess there hasn't been another year in my life that felt so significant. One very close friend succeeded—one strong supporter—Edinburgh opened up! So what if I'm a little tired? "After a long struggle, good rest!"

I see that a year ago I thought there were no hopes ‘now bright,’—and 266‘an hour of joy I knew not was winging its silent flight.’ Indeed the next six months did cut out their own work.

I see that a year ago I thought there were no hopes 'now bright,'—and 266‘an hour of joy I didn’t know was quietly passing by.’ Actually, the next six months did pave their own way.

The year has been glorious in many ways.

The year has been amazing in many ways.

The chief point of pain....”

The main point of pain....”

The chief point of pain was the fear that she was fickle,—that the new interests and friendships were making her disloyal to the strange unearthly friendship for Octavia Hill. Whether this would have been blameworthy is a question that it is unnecessary to discuss, as the contingency never arose. The flame may have flickered and sunk low, but it continued to burn for another forty years. Then “after long travail good repose.”

The main source of her distress was the fear that she was being unfaithful—that the new interests and friendships were making her disloyal to her unique, almost otherworldly bond with Octavia Hill. Whether this would have been wrong is a question that's not worth debating, since it never actually happened. The spark may have dimmed at times, but it kept burning for another forty years. Then, “after long struggle, good rest.”

And in any case she was very happy that winter term. Strangely enough,^[57] her family were thoroughly sympathetic with her aims. Discussing the volume of Essays to which she had contributed, her brother wrote:

And in any case, she was really happy that winter term. Strangely enough,^[57] her family was completely supportive of her goals. When discussing the collection of Essays she had contributed to, her brother wrote:

“Miss Cobbe was very vigorous and suggestive: might have been longer. So might yours without any risk of the interest flagging; and more details of fact would (I think) have driven the nail deeper in the Philistine’s understanding.... I should say that Mrs. Butler’s and yours will hit the public hardest; most dissimilar as they are.... On the main question, for you personally, I am very glad that you are on the medical rails. They are real and solid and really lead somewhere. There is more specialty about them than in the somewhat vague educational line. They belong to an old strong well-paid profession. They tend to the alleviation of intense human misery; and that for a large class of delicate cases women when properly trained are the right physicians I have felt for years and feel increasingly. Stick to them head and hands and feet. Don’t be drawn aside into tempting but irrelevant bye-ways. You will be very useful and very happy in your work: and to have helped to bring about the result that for the years to come girls shall not be without the pale of professional and University education,—shall not waste their best years in chafing at want of elbow room at home—will be a great and additional satisfaction. Nothing succeeds like success, and what you have got to do is to prove that a Lady Physician can be trustworthy and a success. Do nothing but your 267work, and you will do your work well. Of course get hold of the widest and deepest Professional education within reach.

“Miss Cobbe was very energetic and thought-provoking: it could have been longer. Yours could have been too, without any risk of losing interest; and more factual details would (I think) have made a stronger impact on the Philistine’s understanding.... I believe that Mrs. Butler’s and yours will resonate with the public the most, despite their differences.... Regarding the main issue, I’m really glad you’re pursuing a medical career. It’s a solid and established path that truly leads somewhere. There’s more specialization there than in the somewhat vague field of education. It’s part of a strong, well-paying profession. It helps alleviate intense human suffering; and for many delicate cases, well-trained women make the best doctors, a belief I’ve held for years and increasingly support. Commit fully to this path. Don’t get sidetracked by tempting but irrelevant distractions. You will find your work very fulfilling and rewarding: helping ensure that in the years to come, girls will have access to professional and University education—and won’t waste their best years feeling confined at home—will be an amazing source of satisfaction. Nothing succeeds like success, and what you need to do is demonstrate that a Lady Physician can be reliable and successful. Focus solely on your work, and you will excel at it. Of course, pursue the widest and deepest professional education you can find.

Your aff. brother,

T. W. J.-B.”

This last point, on which the writer touches so lightly, was precisely the rub.

This last point, which the writer mentions so casually, was exactly the problem.

“Everything is just as we would have it,” wrote S. J.-B. at this time to Dr. Sewall, “but that Professors are not compelled to lecture to us. We have already arranged for two courses for this winter,—5 lectures a week each,—Physiology and Chemistry; and we are now arranging for Anatomy, both in lectures and dissecting.

“Everything is just as we would want it,” wrote S. J.-B. at this time to Dr. Sewall, “except that Professors are not required to give lectures to us. We have already planned two courses for this winter—5 lectures a week each—in Physiology and Chemistry; and we are currently organizing for Anatomy, both in lectures and dissections.

As we have to make entirely separate arrangements, the Anatomy will be very expensive,—about £100 probably for us five,—and of this I shall pay about one-third, as two of the students are not at all rich.

Since we need to make completely separate arrangements, the Anatomy will be quite costly—likely around £100 for the five of us—and I will cover about one-third of this, as two of the students aren't very wealthy.

Still it is worth any money to get the thing done, and I am only thankful that I can spend the money. Of course I borrow it from my Mother.^[58] My fees for this year will be about £55 or £60,—about $400,—for the 6 months.

Still, it's worth any amount to get it done, and I'm just grateful that I can spend the money. Of course, I’m borrowing it from my mom.^[58] My fees for this year will be around £55 or £60—about $400—for the 6 months.

I have made up my mind to spend if needful £1000 on this business. I feel sure that one does more good in thus concentrating one’s energies and one’s funds to get one thing done thoroughly, than in frittering away lots of small sums in charity,—Don’t you think so? It is a grand thing to enter the very first British University ever opened to women, isn’t it?

I’ve decided to spend up to £1000 on this business if necessary. I’m convinced that you can do more good by focusing your energy and funds to get one thing done right rather than wasting small amounts on various charities—don’t you agree? It’s a fantastic opportunity to be part of the very first British university ever opened to women, isn’t it?

My darling, you must come and see us this summer, for, as I tell the other students here, the whole thing is due to you primarily;—when they say that they feel grateful to me for having worked for this, I say, ‘Thank Dr. Sewall,—she made me care for Medicine, and resolve that a thorough education should be open to Englishwomen.’ So I told Dr. Blackwell too when she said something pretty to me. She is very pleased about Edinburgh.

My dear, you have to come and visit us this summer because, as I tell the other students here, this whole situation is mainly because of you;—when they say they feel thankful to me for making this happen, I say, ‘Thank Dr. Sewall,—she inspired me to care about Medicine and determined that a complete education should be available to Englishwomen.’ I mentioned the same to Dr. Blackwell when she complimented me. She is really excited about Edinburgh.

Well, dear child, I have settled down now for the winter in my little new house. It amuses me to hear of your expenses in furnishing. The whole I have spent is under £35,—about $200,—and yet we are very comfortable!

Well, dear child, I’ve settled down now for the winter in my little new house. It amuses me to hear about your spending on furnishings. The whole amount I’ve spent is under £35—about $200—and yet we are very comfortable!

Miss Pechey is very nice and very clever,—you will like her very much, and she is excellent company....

Miss Pechey is really nice and super smart—you'll like her a lot, and she's great to hang out with....

Our classes begin on Nov. 3rd. I am very busy till then.

Our classes start on November 3rd. I'm really busy until then.

Your very aff.

S. L. J.-B.”

268Busy indeed she was with the great task of finding lecturers. The University of Edinburgh still stood foursquare, and the Professors sat in their comfortable chairs, lecturing to enormous classes of male students. Looking at the question as a sheer matter of business, one asks what inducement had these men to lecture to a handful of women students? S. J.-B., Mrs. Thorne and the others might struggle and pinch to raise the fees of a dozen or more, but what was that to men of assured wealth and position?—men who looked upon a Scots professorship as the topmost rung on the ladder of comfortable success,—men to whom leisure and peace seemed almost a matter of right, an essential part of the prize they had drawn in the lottery of life? Why should they double their work for the sake of this paltry pittance? It was not to be expected that they should have a great enthusiasm for the cause. How could they? They might, it is true, have been possessed of a high sense of the trust conferred on them by their position: but is such a sense in any sphere of life the possession of more than the choicest few?

268She was indeed busy with the important job of finding lecturers. The University of Edinburgh was still strong, and the professors were comfortably seated, lecturing to large classes of male students. From a purely business standpoint, one might wonder what motivation these men had to teach a handful of female students. S. J.-B., Mrs. Thorne, and others might stretch their resources to raise the fees for a dozen or more, but what did that mean to men of established wealth and status—men who viewed a Scottish professorship as the pinnacle of comfortable achievement, and who saw leisure and peace as almost a given, a vital part of the rewards they had won in life’s lottery? Why would they take on extra work for such a meager pay? It was unrealistic to expect them to have a strong passion for the cause. How could they? It’s true they might have felt a strong sense of the responsibility that came with their position, but is that kind of sense something more than just a rare quality seen in a select few?

As regarded the class in Chemistry, everything had gone with delightful smoothness. On July 10th, S. J.-B. had written in her diary, “Dr. Crum Brown agrees,—not a word of demur as to fees,—good fellow,” and a few days later she had received a letter from Dresden in which he said:

As far as the Chemistry class was concerned, everything went smoothly and wonderfully. On July 10th, S. J.-B. wrote in her diary, “Dr. Crum Brown agrees—no complaints about fees—really nice guy,” and a few days later she got a letter from Dresden in which he said:

“I am convinced that the experiment must be made, and do not wish to place any unnecessary obstacles in the way. I therefore cordially agree to your proposal, on the understanding that the consent of the University Court is obtained, and that the course be conducted in the Chemical Class-room of the University, and be in all respects the same as the ordinary course of Chemistry.”

“I’m sure that the experiment needs to happen, and I don’t want to put any unnecessary obstacles in the way. So, I fully agree with your proposal, as long as we get the approval of the University Court, and that the course is held in the Chemical Classroom of the University, and is the same in every way as the regular Chemistry course.”

So far as the work was concerned, one is glad to think that his generosity met with its reward. All the teacher in him must have rejoiced in the mettle of the new students. Miss Pechey, in particular, simply fell upon Chemistry and proceeded to make it her own. In the house of which the furnishing had cost £35, she and S. J.-B. rigged up some kind of laboratory, and carried on experiments with a keenness that to the stern advocate of “limited liability” might well have endangered their success in class examinations.

As far as the work was concerned, it's nice to think that his generosity paid off. The teacher in him must have been thrilled by the determination of the new students. Miss Pechey, in particular, completely embraced Chemistry and made it her own. In a house where the furnishings had cost £35, she and S. J.-B. set up some kind of laboratory and conducted experiments with an enthusiasm that might have put their success in class exams at risk, according to strict advocates of “limited liability.”

269When the winter session came to an end in March, however, it was found that Miss Pechey stood third in the entire list, and was really first of the first-year students,—two of the men having attended the class before. There would have been nothing calamitous in this state of affairs, had it not chanced that there were certain small scholarships involved. A previous Professor of Chemistry in the University—Dr. Hope—had made the experiment of delivering a course of lectures to ladies, and had devoted the proceeds—amounting to about £1000—to the founding of four Hope Scholarships, which entitled the winners to the free use of the College Laboratory. What this privilege would have meant to a born student like Miss Pechey one can easily imagine, but, as mixed classes were forbidden, there might have been a difficulty—scarcely insurmountable—about her making full use of it.

269When the winter session wrapped up in March, it turned out that Miss Pechey ranked third overall, and she was actually first among the first-year students—two of the guys had taken the class before. This wouldn’t have been a big deal, except there were some small scholarships at stake. A former Professor of Chemistry at the University—Dr. Hope—had tried offering a course of lectures for women and had put the proceeds—about £1000—toward creating four Hope Scholarships, which allowed the recipients to use the College Laboratory for free. You can easily imagine what this opportunity would have meant for a dedicated student like Miss Pechey, but since mixed classes weren’t allowed, there could have been a problem—though not an impossible one—concerning her full access to it.

Hitherto, as we have seen, the Professor had treated the women generously. We know that he bore them no grudge; and it is absurd to suppose that he had any wish to be unjust to an engaging, deft-handed girl, with a calm strong face, and a brain which he must have already seen to be far above the average in either sex,—a girl, moreover, who was frankly appreciative of her good fortune in having so able a man as her teacher.

Until now, as we’ve seen, the Professor had treated the women fairly. We know that he held no resentment against them; and it’s ridiculous to think he wanted to be unfair to a charming, skilled girl with a calm, strong face, and a mind that he must have already recognized was well above average in either gender—a girl who, on top of that, was openly grateful for her good luck in having such a talented man as her teacher.

One can only conjecture the motives and the advice that must have influenced him in the decision to withhold even the name of Hope Scholar from this woman, and to give it to the man who stood beneath her on the list. In explaining his position, the Professor said that, having studied at a different hour, she was not a member of the Chemistry Class; but at the same time he awarded to her the official bronze medal of the University, to which she could only lay claim as a member of that class; and, in the published list of honours, he put her name and those of the other women in the place to which their marks entitled them.

One can only guess at the motives and advice that must have influenced him in deciding to withhold even the name Hope Scholar from this woman and to give it to the man below her on the list. In explaining his decision, the Professor said that since she studied at a different time, she wasn't a member of the Chemistry Class; yet at the same time, he awarded her the official bronze medal of the University, which she could only claim as a member of that class. In the published list of honors, he placed her name and those of the other women in the position that their scores warranted.

It was a clumsy though well-meaning compromise, and only led to greater difficulties farther on. Having said that the women were not members of the Chemistry Class, how could he give them certificates of attendance on that class? 270It was obviously impossible, so he offered them written certificates of having attended “a ladies’ class in the University,”—certificates absolutely worthless from the point of view of professional examination. One is reminded of the strawberry jam labels which Mark Twain offered to the conductor of a continental railway when his ticket was worn out; but, unfortunately, the Registrar of a great University is not to be appeased with strawberry jam labels.

It was a clumsy but well-intentioned compromise that only led to more problems later. Since he stated that the women were not part of the Chemistry Class, how could he give them attendance certificates for that class? 270 It was clearly impossible, so he provided them with written certificates confirming they attended “a ladies’ class at the University”—certificates that were completely worthless for professional evaluations. It brings to mind the strawberry jam labels that Mark Twain presented to the train conductor on the continent when his ticket was worn out; however, unfortunately, the Registrar of a major University cannot be satisfied with strawberry jam labels.

In truth the Professor had done the cause an incalculable service. A howl of indignation went up over the whole country. The Times, the Spectator,—a faithful supporter from the first,—even the British Medical Journal, were genuinely roused. The Universities and the Profession had been governed by a spirit of Conservatism, of Trades-unionism, of which this was but a mild example; but now at last that spirit had become explicit: here was the priceless desideratum of the tangible grievance: and it was just like life—just the irony of fate—that the man who provoked the outburst, the man who had to suffer, was not one of the bitter opponents: he was, in his own way, the friend and helper of the struggling cause. He had taught the women Chemistry, and he had taught them well; and that was the main thing, even though a bronze medal, and a few “strawberry jam labels” were—for five people in deadly earnest—to be the only outward and visible signs of six months’ hard work.

Honestly, the Professor had provided an invaluable service to the cause. A wave of outrage swept across the entire country. The Times, the Spectator—a loyal supporter from the beginning—even the British Medical Journal, were truly fired up. The Universities and the Profession had been driven by a conservative spirit, a kind of trade union mentality, of which this was just a mild example; but now that spirit had finally become clear: here was the priceless need for a tangible grievance. And it was just like life—such an ironic twist of fate—that the person who triggered the uproar, the one who had to endure the fallout, wasn't one of the staunch opponents; he was, in his own way, a friend and supporter of the struggling cause. He had taught the women Chemistry, and he had done it well; and that was the most important thing, even if a bronze medal and a few “strawberry jam labels” were the only visible rewards for six months of hard work, for five people who were truly serious.

The matter was referred to the Senatus, who decided by a majority of one that Miss Pechey was not entitled to the Hope Scholarship, and (on the motion of Professor P. G. Tait) also by a majority of one, that the women should have the ordinary class certificates. So the women grasped the substance, if they did lose the shadow.

The issue was brought before the Senate, which decided by a slim majority that Miss Pechey was not eligible for the Hope Scholarship, and (on the suggestion of Professor P. G. Tait) also by a narrow majority, that the women should receive the standard class certificates. So, while the women may have lost the recognition, they still held onto the essential benefits.

“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.”

“I agree with you that one vote cancels out the other,” wrote Professor Masson, “and I believe people are starting to see this. When I decided that the first vote would negatively impact the other, it wasn’t my place to maintain the Senatus's consistency. So, when Tait shared his opinion, I seized the unexpected opportunity and supported his motion.”

But the outcry was not stilled. In those days the general public knew little of the difference between one certificate and 271another; 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:

But the outcry didn’t die down. Back then, the general public didn’t really understand the difference between one certificate and another; however, they had some grasp of what losing a scholarship meant, and Miss Pechey received a level of sympathy that was downright awkward compared to the actual harm done. Still, the keen awareness of the situation was impressive. This was the tribute from 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]

“Regardless of our opinions about whether women should study medicine, the University of Edinburgh claimed to welcome them on the same basis as male students; and unless a more valid reason is provided to explain the Senatus's decision, we can’t help but think that the University has done a great injustice to both itself and one of its most notable 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.

One can imagine how criticism like this affected some of the professors. It was a frustrating mess with no clear way out. It's no surprise that many took the easy route by saying, “The woman you gave me! She’s to blame for everything!” This explanation was technically true; however, only a handful of experts could see today through the lens of tomorrow, and only a few understood that the issue bothering them was part of a global upheaval affecting all of humanity.

Of course there were those who, without taking any extreme view, were admirably sane and dignified. Instance the following letter from Professor Fleeming Jenkin:

Of course, there were some who, without holding any extreme views, were remarkably rational and dignified. Consider the following letter from Professor Fleeming Jenkin:

“April 5th, 1870.

Dear Madam,

Dear Ms.,

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’m sorry that I won’t be able to make it next Saturday; otherwise, I would have backed Miss Pechey’s claims as much as I could.

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.

I feel less sorry about not being there, though, because it seems to me that the legal issue of a specific reward matters much less than the stance you and Miss Pechey have taken in the class.

Accept my very hearty congratulations and

Congratulations and

Believe me,
Yours truly,
Fleeming Jenkin.

Miss Jex-Blake.”

Miss Jex-Blake.

272There 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.

272There was a discussion about taking the issue to the University Court, but it's nice to believe that better judgment won out. Miss Pechey had returned to her home in the countryside and was enjoying the sounds of 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.

“Thanks for Masson’s letter,” she writes to S. J.-B. “He’s a great guy. Wilson sent me the notes from the Senatus meeting about the scholarship. I guess I should 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.”

You understand that I’m leaving it up to you to decide what’s best regarding the scholarship. Just keep in mind that my personal judgment—without any personal bias—opposes appealing, and I don’t want to pursue it unless our friends strongly believe we should.

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:

Well might Miss Pechey say, “He is a great guy.” Professor Masson had taken up the cause of women as passionately as if it were a matter of personal significance to him. At the next meeting of the General Council of the University, he proposed (seconded by Professor Balfour) that, instead of having separate classes, women should be allowed to join the regular 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.”

“That, as the current arrangements for medical education for women at the University create significant and unnecessary difficulties for the female students and also for the professors, and may, if these arrangements continue, even undermine the University’s decision to allow women to study medicine [and it wouldn't reflect well on the University to pretend to offer something without actually doing it],^[60] the General Council recommends to the University Court that women who wish to study medicine be admitted to the medical classes like other students and on the same terms, unless the Court has specific reasons for keeping the instruction 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 273pleaded 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.”

“The motion is a bit lengthy,” he says, “but I thought it was important to have something that, once printed, would explain itself and grab the attention of the Council members.... I’m even more convinced that it's the right move to present the General Council as mentioned, even if we end up losing, because I clearly see a regression from those who were only going along with things, and a sort of triumphant attitude from others who believe that the session's experience can be cited as evidence that the University made a troubling mistake by admitting women at all. This feeling won’t last long; however, it’s time for the opposing forces to confront each other fully on the mixed-classes issue.”

“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:

“Full conflict,” it turned out to be. The opponents presented arguments that prompted an angry interruption from the Professor of Moral Philosophy (Dr. Calderwood); and the Times, while against mixed classes, mentioned 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]

“We cannot fully convey the anger we felt reading such language, and we have to say that it's the strongest reason against allowing young women in the Edinburgh medical classes, as they would have to listen to lectures from professors who can speak like this.”^[61]

The motion was lost by 47 votes to 58.

The motion was defeated by a vote of 47 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!

“No amount of talking on our part could have changed the vote,” wrote Professor Masson. “Everyone present had already made up their minds. Crum Brown did well and gave a proper reprimand to L. Struthers, who was there and voted with us; Nicolson also voted with us and was serious when the time came, as was Dr. Craufurd, who openly declared himself a supporter. On the other hand, Wilson, Bennett, Charteris, and Tait from our side were absent, which reduced our numbers a bit. People today are trying to cheer me up—since I was really feeling down—by saying the outcome was a success in its own way and a sign of eventual success when this comes up again, as it surely will. That’s all well and good; but how can I comfort you? What are you supposed to do this year? The only part of Crum Brown’s speech I disagreed with was his opening remark that he thought the motion might be a bit premature, since we hadn’t fully explored the other method yet. Premature! This coming from someone who refused to continue and then claimed that the current method is unworkable! Still, he spoke and acted well. What can I say except that I feel deeply for your current troubles? Time—maybe a year or two—will generally sort things out, both here and elsewhere; but how you will manage with us is the real question. Christison, who has Turner, Lister, and Sanders (L. is nothing) backing him, seems set on getting rid of you and thinks he can achieve this just by keeping things the way they are. Whether you can navigate things with us by your own cleverness in the hopes of outsmarting him is up to you to decide. I wish it could be so!

Ever yours truly,

David Masson.”

274The 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.

274The consensus was that the outcome of the motion was a success, and it was extensively covered by newspapers, as well as by people from various fields including laypersons, medical professionals, and religious groups.

“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.”

“There is no reason,” said the Guardian, ^[62] “why a large portion of instruction cannot be given appropriately to both men and women together; however, there are definitely some parts of a medical course that cannot be approached this way, and there should be no problem in arranging for these. Providing separate lectures for a few specific occasions is a very different matter, both in terms of convenience and cost, than insisting on having two completely separate courses in every subject.... Professor Masson’s motion was defeated, but by such a small majority—eleven out of a hundred and five—that its success at some point in the future seems likely. If the ladies only add to the exercise of one quality, which the world believes they possess, that of patience, and another, which is thought to be a less common trait of their gender, perseverance, they will definitely achieve their goal.”

“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.”

“The female students almost deserve this rejection,” said the Spectator,^[63] “for making the compromises they have made to English prudishness, compromises not made in France, Austria, or the United States. The only solid ground for them is that science has no gender and cannot be improper unless it’s done with malicious intent, and that by the very nature of the profession, the modesty of ignorance must be replaced by the modesty of pure intention.”

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.”

It shouldn't be thought that the women students were backed by a unified chorus of media support: quite the opposite. About six or seven months later, the Spectator tried to make sense of "the harsh and, as far as we know, the unprecedented hostility directed at women who want to become doctors from the literary community."

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:

One doesn't want to linger on this. It was just meant to happen. As Sir James Stansfeld said seven years later while 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 275dragged 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’s one of the lessons of human progress that when the time for a reform arrives, you can’t stop it. If you try, all you’ll do is change its nature or speed up its arrival. Opponents, when the time has come, aren’t just being dragged along by the wheels of progress—they actually help turn them. The strongest force, no matter how it appears to act, does the most to contribute.”

It is the more pleasing, however, to record the sane and wholesome view taken from the first by the leading responsible papers, including Punch.

It's even more satisfying, though, to note the reasonable and healthy perspective presented from the start by the main responsible publications, 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.

“I’m really upset about the General Council,” Miss Pechey wrote from home; “but there’s no point in stressing out—at least that’s what the nightingale told me. She sang for two hours outside my bedroom window last night and said all sorts of nice things. I wish I could take her with me to Edinburgh, but she wouldn’t like it; plus, they come from a very old family that has lived here since the time of the Britons, so she wouldn’t want 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.”

Papa didn’t write to the Scotsman. I knew he wouldn’t unless someone told him what to say; and honestly, if we’re being truthful, he still has some hidden bias against mixed classes. He’s not at all scientific, never notices the butterflies and beetles on a walk unless I point them out to him, and there are beautiful ones right now, like peacocks, 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.

It was obvious that at that moment, Miss Pechey was really enjoying herself. She was the center of attention, not just in her country home but also in public, and she had the poise and insight to relish her status without drawing unnecessary attention. Additionally, both she and S.J.-B. recognized that they could appreciate the situation even more because, from a typical perspective, the heroine was a genuinely pretty girl, as charming as any heroine could be.

276

CHAPTER VII
PRACTICAL DIFFICULTIES

Perseverance—“wriggling on”—was thus the course recommended to the women by stranger and friend alike.

Perseverance—“keeping at it”—was the approach suggested to the women by both strangers and friends.

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.

The Botany professor (Dr. Balfour, who was previously the Dean of the Faculty of Medicine) wanted to include them in his regular class, but instead made plans to teach them separately. Professor Allmann also expressed his willingness to let S. J.-B. join his Natural History class (see p. 234), but he didn't feel he could follow his colleague's generous example by dedicating special time and effort to this. Luckily, the women had another option in Dr. Alleyne Nicholson, a lecturer at the Extra-Mural School,^[64] and their request to him prompted a letter that highlighted the challenges even a kind-hearted and open-minded person had to contend with.

“April 26th. 1870.

Dear Miss Blake,

Dear Ms. 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 277in the general class. This is the advice which is given me, and I have no doubt as to its wisdom.

I haven't managed to get a clear confirmation about the legality of admitting you into my regular class, but I no longer doubt my complete freedom in this matter as far as the University is concerned. I've consulted several of my colleagues, and they mostly agree that I should bring this up with my class. They suggest that I shouldn’t start abruptly on Monday without any notice. Instead, I should give my opening lecture separately: my regular class at one o’clock and yours at 2 p.m. At the end of the hour, I should explain to the students what’s going on and ask for their permission to transfer a seat in the general class to you. This is the advice I’ve received, and I have no doubts about its soundness.

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.”

I know this won't be as satisfying for you as if I just gave you unconditional permission. I want you to understand that it's not easy for me either. If I were completely independent, I wouldn’t hesitate to do what I believed was right, regardless of the consequences. However, given the current situation, I don't think it's wise to risk losing my entire class or part of it, which I’m certain would happen if I tried to introduce this change without any warning. If I really knew my class, even with just a couple of days to get to know them, I would feel much more confident about their reactions to this issue. But as it stands, I'm working with an unknown situation while figuring out how to proceed, and I don’t have enough information to guide my decision. My current thought is that, although I really want to include you in my general class, it’s probably safest for me to present the question to my class and go with what the majority decides.

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.”

Apparently, S. J.-B. got a verbal but acceptable change to this plan by suggesting that the class should “join the lecturer in inviting” the women to participate, but that was just a minor detail. Everything relied on how Dr. Nicholson presented the situation, and it's not surprising that the positive response came not from a majority, but from the whole class. “So,” says S. J.-B., “the first ‘mixed-class’ was started and went on throughout the summer without any issues.”

“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.”

“The series of lectures on Zoology that I’m currently giving to a mixed class,” Dr. Nicholson wrote in response to a misunderstanding in a medical paper, “is exactly the same as the course I taught last winter to my regular class of male students. I haven't toned down my lectures in any way, nor do I have any intention of doing so. I believe firmly that we shouldn't put too much emphasis on the purity and modesty of those who can derive inappropriate feelings from a completely scientific subject like Zoology, no matter how openly it’s presented.”

This was all very well, but the classes so far obtained were mere outposts. The real Giant Difficulty lay with Anatomy 278and 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.

This was all well and good, but the classes obtained so far were just small victories. The real challenge was with Anatomy and Clinical teaching, and that semester’s work was made even harder for S. J.-B. by the constant struggle to secure the needed instruction. It was crucial that the teacher, if not a Professor, at least be recognized by the University, and there were University representatives who weren’t interested in making this any easier. Hopes were raised time and again, only to be let down: once, after a lot of discussion, the lecturer had actually agreed to take on the work and accepted his payment; but even at that late stage, he backed out and returned the fee with an apology. (“How frustrated I was!” says S. J.-B., “thoroughly upset and anxious.”) It also happened repeatedly that the people willing to help had already taken an unpopular stance on some other issue with their more traditional colleagues, and simply couldn’t risk supporting another contentious 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”?

S. J.-B. was encouraged to go to Zürich and prepare to teach Anatomy; but what assurance did she have—what encouragement did she even have to hope—that the University would acknowledge her teaching when she returned? And what were the other students—a growing number—supposed to do in the meantime? Seek their fortunes elsewhere?—and face the inevitable, “Look, these people who have turned the world upside down have come here too”?

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.

Once in a while, some noble man took on their cause, refusing to believe that the struggle was real; but gradually he would find that the invisible fog of resistance was just as impenetrable as a solid 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.

It was Dr. Arthur Gamgee who finally convinced Dr. Handyside to allow women into his regular Anatomy class and dissection room at Surgeons’ Hall, as long as the other lecturers didn’t mind. And with that, the plans for the upcoming winter session were set.

“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 279put his foot down,—the students followed a beck,—and, if invited, would of course make a row, etc....

“Saturday, June 25th. I visited Dr. Watson ^[65] (Surgery). He quickly signed my petition. He believed that if we didn’t create any issues, no one else should regarding mixed classes—anyone truly passionate about their subject should be able to teach all students. Of course, the teacher needed to maintain authority—the students would follow a signal—and, if prompted, would certainly cause a disturbance, etc....

Saw Keiller too.... Was quite favourable as to Handyside and mixed classes;—he himself having had students and midwives....”

Saw Keiller too... He was quite positive about Handyside and mixed classes; he had experience with students and midwives himself...

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.

The issue of these mixed classes at the Extra-Mural School was technically a violation of Regulation 2 in the Calendar (see p. 260), and as a result, it was presented to the University Senatus, with a suggestion to take it to the University Court. However, Professor Bennett, supported by Professor Tait, proposed, “that the Senatus see no reason to intervene.” This amendment seems to have passed due to the tiebreaking 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.”

“How quickly things change! I genuinely hope for mixed classes at the University before 1871.”

She forgot to allow sufficiently for the fighting force of a large minority, led by an angry few.

She failed to account for the powerful impact of a large minority, driven by a small group of angry individuals.

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:

Meanwhile, that amazing mother was watching the struggle, not with the intense focus that Miss Du Pre was applying to the issue, but with her usual, steady support. Like Miss Pechey’s father, she had been a bit taken aback at first by the idea of mixed classes, but shortly after this, she writes:

“Darling,

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.”

I don't have any problem with mixed classes at all. Since the teaching has to be done by men for now, I don’t see why there shouldn’t be mixed classes for everyone to attend. I'm convinced that if you keep having such a great group of women, it will really elevate the overall vibe of the young men. If mixed classes are working so well in Zurich and Paris, why not here?—but I admit I'm pretty ignorant on the subject.

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:

Intellectually, the supply of women showed no signs of shortage. With the advice and cooperation of Miss Garrett, Lady Amberley had offered a scholarship for competition at the October Matriculation Examination, and S. J.-B. proudly notes the examiners' verdict on their work:

“‘Miss Barker’s Logic paper best ever had from medical students.’

“‘Miss Barker’s Logic paper was the best ever from medical students.’”

‘Miss Bovell’s French best in University except one Frenchman’s.’

‘Miss Bovell had the best French at the University, except for one Frenchman’s.’

‘Miss Walker had the only 100 per cent. in Mathematics.’

‘Miss Walker had the only 100 percent in Mathematics.’

Classical examiner wrote,—‘I was very much struck with the accuracy as well as elegance of some papers.‘”

Classical examiner wrote, “I was really impressed by the accuracy and elegance of some papers.”

280Of 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:

280Of course a woman—or a man for that matter—can ace a challenging exam in Mathematics or Chemistry, and still struggle to handle a tough midwifery situation; it was completely right and appropriate for male doctors to acknowledge and even highlight this fact. No one would have wished for them to act otherwise. However, it was fortunate for the women that their opponents often presented their arguments with a noticeable lack of humor, as the following letter from the Lancet ^[66] clearly shows:

“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.

Sir,—In all popular movements, no matter how one-sided and irrational they might seem, there’s some truth behind them, a bit of common sense within a lot of nonsense. The same is true for the current push to admit women into the field of medical practitioners. I honestly and thoroughly believe that, as a group, they are not physically, constitutionally, or mentally suited for the demanding and continuous labor, as well as the heavy responsibilities of general medical and surgical practice. At the same time, I also strongly believe that there is a branch of our profession—midwifery—where they could and should be allowed to participate, albeit in a subordinate role.

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.

In France and many other parts of Europe, this division of labor in midwifery is fully implemented, benefiting both groups: the regular practitioner, who is relieved of some of their most demanding and least rewarding tasks, and the women who are passionate about medicine, allowing many of them to earn a respectable living in the profession they want to pursue.

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.”

I think it's safe to say that very few doctors who have been practicing for ten years wouldn’t happily and gratefully hand over their midwifery cases to a group of well-educated and supportive midwives. For a young practitioner, there’s the excitement of new experiences and the urge to improve, making payment a secondary concern. But after ten years of practice, often much sooner, a significant change occurs in their outlook.

The part of the letter that follows is perhaps too technical for quotation; but the writer continues on the general question:

The next part of the letter might be too technical to quote, but the writer goes on to discuss the general issue:

“I would add in conclusion that, given women of exceptional energy, capacity, and intelligence, nothing would be easier than for 281them, 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?

“I would add in conclusion that, considering women with exceptional energy, ability, and intelligence, it would be easy for them, if they deserved it, to move from midwifery into a broader range of activities and achieve success. They should demonstrate through their energy, their writing, and their contributions to medical science that they possess remarkable observational skills and intellect, and fame would quickly follow. This has happened to the very few women, like Mrs. Somerville, who have shown not only ability and talent but also greater capabilities—the ability to grasp the more complex and obscure teachings of science. However, even this ability—the ability to master and understand the current state of science—does not define the typical male mind in the Caucasian race. The main characteristic that I believe distinguishes the Caucasian race and elevates it far above all others is the ability of many of its male members to expand the boundaries of science, to go beyond the current limits of knowledge—in short, the ability for scientific discovery. I am not aware that the female members of our race share in this ability, in this ultimate development of the human mind; at least I don’t know of any significant discoveries that have changed the field of science that can be attributed to a woman of our race or any other. What right, then, do women have 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.

That woman can achieve a respectable social status and financial independence in our field, as evidenced by a case I observed last year. A German lady doctor with a degree from a German university visited me on her way home from San Francisco. She told me she had been practicing there as an obstetrician and a doctor for women and children for twenty years, had built a small fortune, and was returning to Germany to live out her days peacefully. Her story is this: Early in her married life, her husband lost his fortune and became seriously ill. She had to support her husband and their two children. She studied midwifery and medicine, earned her degree, and then moved to America, settling in San Francisco. There, she took a supportive role among the male doctors, working alongside them and relying on their support. This allowed her to work well with her colleagues and enjoy a successful and uninterrupted career.

I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,

Henry Bennet, M.D.”^[67]

One can imagine the somewhat grim smile with which this lucubration was passed round the little band in Edinburgh: 282and 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.

One can picture the somewhat grim smile with which this work was circulated among the small group in Edinburgh: 282 and it’s only fair to say that many of their opponents would have been happy to shout:—“Not with such help, nor with these defenders!” The Lancet was not on the side of women students back then, and it’s good to note that the Editor allowed S. J.-B. the chance to respond. Her letter is a good example of the writing style that was becoming typical for her—crystal clear, concise, and straightforward—completely stripped of the flair that had marked her earlier writing.

“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.

“Dude,—I see in your columns from June 1st, 1870, a letter about ‘Women as Practitioners of Midwifery,’ and I ask for a quarter of the space it took up to respond briefly.”

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.

It's really not worth discussing the first part of the letter since the second paragraph addresses it well enough. After stating that women are “sexually, constitutionally, and mentally unfit for hard and continuous work,” Dr. Bennet goes on to suggest that their only role in the medical field should be what he describes as its “most challenging, most exhausting, and most poorly paid duties.” The last term seems to capture the entire reasoning behind the division of labor from his perspective. He clearly believes that women are just suited for midwifery cases that pay half a guinea or a guinea, and that all patients who pay more necessarily require the superior abilities of the “male mind of the Caucasian race.” Let whatever is well-paid go to the men, and then chivalrously leave the “poorly paid” work for the women. This is the true perspective of a trades unionist. It's refreshing to see it plainly stated. Since I hope the majority of medical professionals would be embarrassed to admit adherence to such a principle, and I know it would be strongly rejected by the general public, I don’t want to say more on this matter.

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 283methods; 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.

But when Dr. Bennet starts to insist on what he calls our claim to ‘mental equality,’ he brings up a different and much more significant issue. Personally, I don't care at all to claim or deny such equality, nor do I think it's essential to the real question at hand. Let me briefly explain the stance that I and, as I believe, most of my fellow students take. We say to the medical authorities, “Clearly state what qualifications you deem necessary for a medical practitioner; set your standard wherever you want, but define it clearly; don’t put any obstacles in our way; either give us access to the usual means of medical education or don’t require that we use your specific methods; in either case, subject us to exactly the standard examinations and tests as your average students, and if we don’t perform at their level, reject us. However, if, despite all difficulties, we meet your standard and fulfill all your requirements, the question of ‘mental equality’ is practically resolved, at least as it relates to our situation; then grant us the standard medical license or diploma, and let the question of our eventual success or failure in practice be decided by ourselves and the public.” This is our position, and I appeal, not to the chivalry but to the fairness of the medical profession, to show us that it’s unsustainable or else to concede it immediately.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

Sophia Jex-Blake.

Edinburgh, June 21st.”^[68]

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.

Nothing friendly here: no request for help for “the little thing”—the kind of appeal that some men back then found so charming: nothing even reminiscent of the “Now remember, Daddy dear,” from those amusing controversial letters of her youth. It’s a level playing field with no favors, and it’s intense 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.”

She might have ended the conflict sooner if she had taken a more diplomatic approach. The same can be said for many martyrs. If she had done that, it would have led to a smaller conflict—a victory with far more limited outcomes. When a new approach is taken, it’s almost always exaggerated. That’s just how things work. If there weren’t flaws on both sides, there would be no drama—no “story”; the world would continue on its slow path, ignoring everything. “Individuals, feeling passionately, may be flawed in their approach or speech, yet they are still uniquely effective.... The very flaws of a person attract attention; they might lose, but their cause (if just and they are strong-minded) ultimately benefits. That’s just the way it is; we advance truth through self-sacrifice.”

Here then were the opposing forces, duly ranged against each other. One can almost imagine the move and countermove 284that 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.

Here were the opposing forces lined up against each other. You can almost picture the moves and counter-moves that were sure to follow. And we shouldn’t overlook the impact of the large group of students—although there were some “individuals” present as well—eager for trouble and excitement, enjoying a commotion, ready “to follow a beck” as that wise Heron Watson had said. 284

285

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.

S. J.-B.’s medical experience in America mainly involved practical hospital work, particularly related to women's specific diseases. She had done some dissecting in a basic way, and just as she was about to start what she considered “real teaching,” she had to return home due to her father's illness. However, she had one advantage over her classmates—she understood that the “horrors” of the dissecting room can be overcome by approaching them with serious intent. From experience, she knew that one must first gather oneself to avoid causing irreparable damage to the delicate structures that are almost as cleverly hidden in surrounding tissue as a future statue is within a marble block; and she realized that, over time, the privilege of revealing that amazing “handiwork” becomes so captivating that it makes the dedicated student forget 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.

The Anatomy Class officially started in November, but the rooms were open and teachers were available from the beginning of October for anyone who wanted to attend. This meant the women primarily interacted with the most enthusiastic students or those who had a specific goal in mind. The women would have preferred a separate room if one had been available, but in their quiet corner, they focused intently on their work, tuning out everything else. And everything was going smoothly. The lecturer noted that never before had better work been produced in his classrooms.

286Meanwhile 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.

286Meanwhile, influential friends were doing their best to support the women’s interests in other areas; it’s important to note that, as enrolled students of the University, they shouldn’t have been forced to study in Extra-Mural classes, and in fact, only a limited number of those classes would count toward a University degree. On October 28th, a motion was introduced in the General Council of the University to provide more opportunities for the female students. The motion was met with a direct rejection, as Professor Christison claimed during his speech that Her Majesty Queen Victoria had agreed with the views previously expressed by Dr. Laycock and himself. If there’s any truth to this, one can only wonder how the story reached Her Majesty—definitely not through a leading article in the Times. It’s hard to say how much weight her purported opinion carried, but in any case, when it was put to a vote, the negative won 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.

In reading the whole story, one is repeatedly struck by how narrow-minded the majority was in deciding things. The weak and cowardly, the lazy and indecisive—those “unstable” individuals who claim to be impartial—carry a significant burden of responsibility.

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:

At this point, whether it was a smart move or not, the women were encouraged to apply for permission to work in the wards of the Royal Infirmary. This was the only hospital in Edinburgh big enough to meet the General Medical Council's requirements for registration as a medical practitioner, and the women had the right to this opportunity due to their Matriculation tickets. They knew that some of the doctors supported them. 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....

“Saturday, Oct. 29th. Dr. Watson—very friendly. He was more than happy to have us as students. He didn't foresee any issues with the 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.”

Dr. Littlejohn anticipated his son's downfall due to women doctors, but ‘would drink the bitter cup to its dregs,’ and vote for us.”

287Their request, however, was met by a curt refusal.

287They were met with a blunt no to their request.

“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.

Gordon says, ‘Why not try a written memorial?’ Wood says he thinks their charter requires them to accept all medical students.

Qui vivra verra.”

"Whoever lives will see."

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.

It is clear that they had reached the enemy's stronghold. Might makes right, and possession is nine-tenths of the law. The matter was in the hands of a group of Managers who were clearly evaluating the situation based on what the medical team in charge presented to them; so now it was up to the women to explain their position as clearly as they could to those making the decision.

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

“Friday, Nov. 4th. Just finished today’s work for a sample! Studying and surveying at the same time,—

8.45. Started for Surgeons’ Hall.

8:45. Headed to Surgeons’ Hall.

9-10. Tutorial class, bones.

9-10. Tutorial class, skeletons.

10-11. Surgery lecture.

Surgery class.

11-1. Dissecting.

11-1. Analyzing.

1-2. Anatomy Lecture.

Anatomy Class.

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

2.10 I got home and found a letter from Mr. Blyth (the Manager) telling me to meet him at 2 p.m. I made it there (after quickly drinking some beef tea and wine) at 2:45. I talked to him for nearly an hour and I think it went well. I got back home at 3:40, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and went

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

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

Home to dinner.

Home for dinner.

7 p.m. Started on round of calls.

7 p.m. Started making calls.

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

Home at 10 p.m. Not tired—oh, definitely not!

“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.

“I don’t want you to be a constant source of frustration,” Miss Du Pre writes, “because I guess constant sources of frustration wear out after a lot of battles; but I truly like and admire your ‘never give up’ attitude, and it is a struggle for something worth fighting for in the end, which is really important.

If only I could be with you!”

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:

One should read the following letters, which were presented at the later meetings of the Board, to understand how strong and rational the women's stance was:

“November 5, 1870.

My Lord and Gentlemen,—As lecturers in the Edinburgh Medical School we beg most respectfully to approach your honourable 288Board, 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:—

My Lords and Gentlemen,—As instructors at the Edinburgh Medical School, we respectfully come before your esteemed 288Board, on behalf of the eight female students from this school whom we understand you are opposed to admitting to the practice at the Royal Infirmary. On their behalf, we wish to express:—

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

1. They are currently enrolled medical students at 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.

2. They are currently attending, along with the other students, our anatomy courses, practical anatomy sessions, anatomy demonstrations, and systematic surgery classes 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.

3. As teachers of anatomy and surgery, we have no trouble conducting our classes with mixed groups of male and female students sitting together on the same benches. The presence of those eight female students hasn't caused us to change 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.

4. The presence of female students has, instead of reducing the number of people in our classes, actually resulted in both larger attendance and higher enrollment than in past 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.

5. In our experience with these mixed classes, the behavior of the students is more orderly and calm, and their commitment to studying is more diligent and serious than in previous sessions when only male students 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.

6. We believe that if female students are denied practical bedside instruction in examining and treating cases because they can’t access the Infirmary as medical students, the value of any structured surgical course will be significantly lower than the same course attended by male students, who benefit from hospital instruction from 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.

7. The surgical training, lacking its practical side due to the exclusion of female students from the Infirmary, and consequently from the wards of their systematic surgical instructor, may understandably lead to a decline in the knowledge of these female students, not just in classroom tests, but also in their ability to practice their profession later on.

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.

8. Our experience with mixed classes convinces us that female students attending regular hospital visits with male students is not more objectionable to the male students and male patients than the presence of ward nurses, or to the female patients than the presence of 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 289medicine, make it impossible that any impropriety could arise out of their attendance upon the wards as regards either patients or male pupils.

9. The social class of these eight female students, along with their reserved demeanor and the serious, respectful attitude they bring to studying 289medicine, ensures that no inappropriate behavior could occur during their time in the wards, whether concerning patients or male students.

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.

In conclusion, we hope that your esteemed Board will decide, after reviewing these statements, to allow these female students to join the regular sessions with the other students, at least for those physicians and surgeons who are okay with their presence.

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,

Such a complete ban on female students from the wards of the Royal Infirmary, as your esteemed Board would decide, would be seen as a practical injustice to students who, having started their journey in the medical field, would be unable to continue their studies if they are denied hospital access.—We are, my Lord and Gentlemen, your respectful 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).

The second letter was a petition signed by the female students, known as the “Septem contra Edinam,” enclosing Paper A and Paper B. It’s worth mentioning the names of the brave seven once and 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), and 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.

Paper A.—We, the undersigned doctors and surgeons of the Royal Infirmary, want to express our willingness to let female medical students participate in the practice in our wards. We believe that allowing their attendance will not interfere with our responsibilities toward our patients or 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.

In paper B, two other doctors expressed their willingness to teach the female students in the wards separately, if proper arrangements could be made.

“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 290(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,

Ladies and Gentlemen,—To clear up any possible misunderstanding, I kindly request, on behalf of my fellow students and myself, to clearly state that while we urgently ask your honorable Board to give us the regular students’ tickets for the Infirmary 290 (as they are the only ones that will ‘qualify’ for graduation), we have no intention of attending the wards of those physicians and surgeons who do not want us there, out of respect, and because we will already have enough resources for learning by attending the wards of those gentlemen who have welcomed us with open arms. —I respectfully remain your obedient servant,

Sophia Jex-Blake.

To the Honourable the Managers of the Royal Infirmary.”

To the Honorable 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.

Now, the managers of the Infirmary were decent people by human standards. Several of them, as S.J.-B. says, were known to the women as "fair and open-minded men," so it’s not surprising that most of them were touched by these arguments and wanted to grant the women’s request. However, due to a lack of notice, the ruling party postponed the matter 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.

And now, it was clear that the time had come to do everything possible to get the women to leave completely. If they got their way at the next meeting, everything could easily be ruined.

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.

It was at this point that, for the first time, some of the students started to act unfriendly, “slamming doors in our faces, deliberately crowding into the seats we usually sat in, bursting into loud laughter and shouts when we got close,—as if there was a plan to make our situation as uncomfortable as possible.” A petition from the students against allowing women into the Infirmary was passed around, and 500 students signed it.

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

So the majority got what they wanted, and the ruling party had a straightforward win.

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

“Keep going,” someone said. “Don’t just stop here. While you’re at it, why not get rid of the women completely?”^[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.

It wasn’t a surprising suggestion; the presence of the women was making some people really uncomfortable; but those who made the suggestion must have had a pretty good idea of how the students would go about it and which type of student would take charge.

291For 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.

291For a day or two, a weak and timid attempt was made to stop women from entering the classroom, but S. J.-B., followed by her friends, just ignored the students who half-heartedly stood in her path and walked right past 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.

And then the “riot at Surgeons’ Hall” happened, which has been talked about a lot since then, and which Charles Reade famously used 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:

In order to get a straightforward account of what happened, we can’t do better than quote the Courant ^[70] (the only Edinburgh morning paper that was critical of the women) and the very brief entry 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.

A very inappropriate scene took place yesterday afternoon in front of the Royal College of Surgeons when the female medical students entered the classrooms. Although it might seem unkind, there’s no denying that many of the students view the inclusion of women in the classes with disfavor; sadly, some have resorted to very childish ways of showing their displeasure. Just before four o'clock, when the ladies were due at the College, nearly two hundred students gathered at the gate of the building. As you can imagine, the students were quite animated; they sang popular songs like ‘The Whale’ and ‘John Brown’s Body’ with more enthusiasm than good taste, at least from a hundred voices. This noisy display quickly drew a large crowd and disrupted public traffic. Just before four o'clock, those watching spotted the ladies approaching, and immediately they were met with a roar that might have rattled the bravest, but it seemingly didn't bother the ladies at all, as they confidently walked towards the gate, with the students parting to let them through. When they reached the gate, it was slammed shut in their faces. Amid the mocking laughter that followed this questionable action, it’s worth noting that some students shouted ‘shame.’ Soon after, the janitor managed to open one side of the gate, and the ladies were allowed inside, though not before some of them were quite 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. 292With 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.”

The anatomy classroom they headed to was packed to the door, and due to the noise and interruptions, Dr. Handyside found it completely impossible to start his demonstrations. 292After a lot of effort, he identified the students in his class and, after sending the others out of the room, was ready to continue, when the college's pet sheep was brought in, with a student joking that it would make a good subject for anatomy. Poor ‘Mailie’ was held captive, and the lecturer was finally able to continue.

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

“Let it stay,” Dr. Handyside had said, “it makes more sense than the people 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.”

“When the class ended, several students appeared set on walking the ladies home; however, the outcome was that a few of them got caught by the police.”

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

The author of the diary obviously had a different perspective:

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

“Friday, 18th. As I approached the Surgeons’ Hall, I saw a crowd of students and a diverse group of people.”

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.

Had to go down to the post office and to Houlden’s for Mrs. Evans [a very telling detail! in later life, S. J.-B. often referred to herself as ‘an old sheepdog.’] Then crossed the road, ... Mrs. T[horne] and I in front, followed by 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.)

Reaching the sidewalk, we made our way through a gap created by one or two people until we got to the gate, which slammed in our faces because of the smokers inside. I calmly leaned against it outside while hearing shouts of ‘Shame,’ ‘Let them in,’ and so on, until Sanderson rushed forward, pushed it open, and we went inside—except for Mrs. K., who stayed outside to hear ‘very bad language, which I didn’t participate in.’ (To S. M. M.’s great amusement.)

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

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

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

Dr. Handyside went outside and protested, etc. Then sheep were brought in.

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

We did pretty well on the exam. At the end, H. asked if we wanted to leave through the back door. "Oh, no," I said, "I'm sure there are enough gentlemen here to keep us safe." So we went, with Hoggan and Sanderson leading the way. S. M. M. mentioned she got hit, and then Wilson came over and took Mrs. K.'s arm, which startled us for a moment. After that, we headed 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 293about it, and he requested Turner to keep his class till past five,—they were let out at 4.45!^[71]

“Monday, 21st. We got a heads-up about a ‘more serious demonstration’, so Wilson swore in the Irish Brigade. I asked Professor Wilson 293 about it, and he asked Turner to keep his class until after five—they were let out at 4:45!^[71]

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

However, since it was raining, there was hardly any 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.

“Tuesday 22nd.... The Irish Brigade came in for a demonstration, and then escorted us home—about 30 or 40 in total. One woman hissed. W. mentioned regretfully at the crossing that it ‘hadn’t been cleaned,’ etc.—otherwise all was quiet. The O’Halloran accompanied E. P., called her ‘my beautiful one,’ declared ‘life wasn’t much, but all the Irishmen would lay down theirs before we came to any 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.

And in the passage, the same powerful chief almost shook my hand off, promising how much pleasure it would bring him and his people to be of any service to us, etc., etc.

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

They cheered for us when they reached 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?’

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 really attractive ones among them." "Eh, now, look at the students walking them home— isn’t it nice?"

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!’policeman!’

And O'Halloran’s issues with his crew. ‘For God’s sake, take care of X.! It’s his first night out, and he’ll want to make a name for himself,—he’ll be going after a police officer!policeman!’

Altogether great ‘demonstration in favour,’ as Daily Review says.

Altogether great 'demonstration in favor,' as Daily Review says.

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

“Wednesday, 23rd. Same escort, although it wasn't really needed.”

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:

The Wilson who enlisted the Irish Brigade has no relation to Professor Wilson. He was a student and stayed a dedicated supporter of the cause throughout his life.^[72] His letter, written on the Sunday after 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 294amongst a lot of my friends—not wholly inexperienced in the kind of work—and you will be all right.

Dear Ms. Pechey,—I want to warn you, and through you, your friends, that you’re going to be mobbed again on Monday. A real conspiracy has, I fear, been set in motion for that purpose. I need you to tell your friends that, although the planned demonstration against you on Monday is meant to be much more serious than the one on Friday and to scare you all away, you don’t need to worry at all. I’ve made what I hope will be effective arrangements for your protection. I’ve shared the word with a number of my friends—not entirely inexperienced in this kind of thing—and you’ll be just fine. 294

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.

I met with my friend, Micky O'Halloran, who leads a strong band known at college as the 'Irish Brigade.' He agreed to send a group of his guys for duty on Monday. Micky was the impressive guy with the big red mustache who stood by us on Friday, and his presence seemed to disappoint the rioters, who I think were counting on his support. I’ve taken care of that, and I believe just showing that you have people ready and willing to protect you will keep the mob from even trying to cause trouble.

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.

They’re a pretty cowardly bunch, almost all of them very young, and I don’t think there’s a single one among them who’s experienced the days when street rioting was something Edinburgh students were known for, so they probably won’t be very troublesome. I believe they’ll ‘back down’ if you just act bold. I also have a lot of influence with the Highlanders at College, and I expect to get quite a bit of support from them when I spread the word 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.

May I suggest that I believe the real reason for the riots is how some professors belittle you in their lectures. They always find a way to incite hatred against you. For all I know, they might understand the riotous conspiracy better than most people realize. However, as I mentioned, you and your friends don’t need to worry about Monday. You’ll be well taken 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.”

P.S. I would have sent this message through Mrs. Kingsley, but since I won’t get a chance to see her tomorrow, and since you are her friend, I'm sending it to you instead.”

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.

Mr. Henry Kingsley was at that time the editor of the Daily Review, and just as formidable a supporter of the cause as Alexander Russel himself. There's no way to overstate Mrs. Henry Kingsley's loyalty. In the living room, in the newspaper columns, and on stage, she was always ready to defend a just cause and to clear up the many misunderstandings that came up around it. She attended the science classes not to become a doctor, but mainly to connect herself with the movement and with the people who had her full support and admiration.

295The 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]

295The news of the “Riot” spread all over the world, and the outrage triggered by the Hope Scholarship issue was nothing compared to the anger sparked by this incident. “We hope the authorities at the medical school in Edinburgh will punish the cowardly idiots—we can’t call them anything milder—who behaved like this towards the women who thought they could act like gentlemen. Edinburgh has lost some of its appeal as an educational center.” This was a typical example of the angry criticism that emerged, and it’s worth noting that few were quicker to distance themselves from the wrongdoers than the more reputable students. A few respectable papers even supported the rioters; to do this, they had to portray the women and their actions in a way that appalled all decent people—"a brutality," said the Spectator, referring to a particular article, "that even a street vendor arguing with a fishwife would be ashamed of."^[73]

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.

Some of us can also picture the kind of anonymous letters the women received, and those letters were quite frightening to the women of that time.

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

“‘Well!—we're pretty deep in 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.

“‘What do you think your constitution is made of that it will stand such overwork?’ writes Miss Du Pre at this time. ‘You’re going to be a real martyr to the cause if you don’t take care. Yet I know you never waste any energy, so I dread to think of how much work you must be doing. I do wish you could just sit down to your lessons quietly like the male 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.’”

The two newspaper articles really made me angry! I think the —— is the worst, but when you reach such a low point, it's tough to judge how low it really is. I imagine such attacks must make you feel like everyone on the other side is low, mean, and wicked—don’t you think? It's always so hard to believe that your opponents can be good, honest, and even sensible; but when any of them write letters like those, I think it must be nearly impossible.

296A 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.

296A new law took effect at this time, requiring all the Managers of the Royal Infirmary to step down from the Board unless they were re-elected. This was the perfect opportunity to bring in members who supported the admission of women, if that could be achieved. One can easily imagine the campaigning that happened on both sides.

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

Here are some typical "snapshots" 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.

“Littlejohn at Police Court—really uncomfortable conversation; he was so candid and honest, but he believed he should vote against us in the Infirmary because 'by hook or by crook' they had stirred up such a spirit among the students (L. was 'ashamed of his gender') that he was worried persistence would harm 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.

M.,—£1000 subscriber. Calm, straightforward, not close-minded or harsh—just not previously interested. He said he "needed to think about it now," even though he had biases against women doctors. I pointed out that that was just a detail—the real issue of justice was much bigger than that.

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

L. R. had nothing to do with it, etc., but thought it was all inappropriate.

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

‘The young men in the women's 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.

At the Annual Meeting of Contributors on January 2nd, 1871, the Council Chambers were packed well before the scheduled start time of one o’clock. The meeting kicked off with a heated argument among the city leaders about whether to move to the High Church (St. Giles’ Cathedral), which could accommodate more people. The representative from the Ecclesiastical Commissioners insisted that the Police Court would be a better venue, but he was overruled on a legal point by Mr. Duncan M‘Laren, the M.P. for Edinburgh. By the time they managed to relocate to the church, tensions were running high, and there was a lot of bickering and noisy interruptions before they even got to the main topic of discussion.

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 297were frequent. This was the atmosphere in which S. J.-B.—in the capacity of a subscriber—asked leave to speak.^[74]

The Lord Provost himself suggested that six men who supported the women students be elected, and one of the Infirmary Medical Staff put forward a revised list. Both sides used strong language, and interruptions happened often. This was the environment in which S. J.-B.—as a subscriber—requested permission to speak.297 ^[74]

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 was, as mentioned earlier, one of the best women speakers of her time; but even as an adult, she often felt a surge of nervousness beforehand, although thankfully, there was no sign of it when the critical moment came. We can only imagine what she must have felt during her first event in Edinburgh. We know she was overworked and exhausted, and her genuine anger had peaked because some authority figures were encouraging the students to cause trouble. Later, certain serious and responsible citizens of Edinburgh claimed she had faced "unprecedented provocation." She wanted the contributors to understand the real truth of the situation, and she was determined that the presence of her opponents would not stop her from giving a straightforward, unfiltered account of what had happened. She realized the threat of backing down out of fear; but, due to her inexperience, she didn’t recognize the risk of going too far in the opposite direction: and that’s exactly what she did. Part of her speech could reasonably be seen 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 spoke well, of course, but she got her talent from Nature, not from Art: and she was faced with those—twice her age and more—who had mastered the full importance of calmness and polish in discussions.

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.

She had a lot of friends in that church, and most of them must have been really hurt: not because they disagreed with her, but because they did agree. Some whose loyalty didn’t mean much, or who had come with “an open mind,” probably switched sides. It’s almost surprising to learn that it was only by the usual slim margin—94 to 88 in this case—that her cause lost.

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.

And yet, maybe it’s no surprise: courage and honesty have their own way of attracting attention, and the intense feelings of dedicated supporters are a spark that ignites great things.

298Of 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]

298 Naturally, unfriendly publications mocked. The Church Review made a point to address the issue. Starting with a harsh critique of the speaker’s choice of words like “realize” and “emanate,” it’s surprising that it managed to finish its entire critique at all.^[75]

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

We quote the part of the speech that was meant to lead to further actions:^[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.

“I want to highlight that it was some of these same men who had, so to speak, committed themselves from the beginning to crush our hopes for education and make all our efforts pointless—who, sitting on the Infirmary Board, exploited the almost unchecked power they temporarily held to sabotage our initiatives. I believe a majority of the managers wanted to act fairly in this situation; however, the presence of those bitter partisans and the overwhelming influence they exerted won the day—denying us not only admission under normal conditions but also every opportunity that could serve our purpose. I know that some of the most respected and knowledgeable members of the Board made noble protests against this injustice, but all their efforts were futile because there were hidden maneuvers and tactics at play that they either didn’t know about or couldn’t reveal. Until that point, for five weeks, the conduct of the students we worked with in Surgeons’ Hall, during the most challenging of our studies—Practical Anatomy—had been calm, respectful, and completely non-offensive. They had clearly accepted our presence there, engaged in serious, silent work, as a normal occurrence, and Dr. Handyside, in response to a question I posed after the speeches at the General Council meeting, assured me that over the course of twenty sessions, he had never experienced a month of such focused, diligent work as since we joined his classes. However, at a certain meeting of the managers when our petition was presented, I understand that a majority of those present supported our immediate admission to the Infirmary. The minority claimed there was insufficient notice of the issue and succeeded in getting a postponement."

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 299and 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.

I can’t say what means were used in the meantime or what influence was applied, but I do know that from that day on, the behavior of the students completely changed. Those who had previously been quiet and polite became rude and aggressive; eventually, we faced a disgraceful riot, where the college gates were slammed shut in our faces, and our small group was splattered with mud from head to toe. (“Shame.”) It’s true that other students, who were too honorable to be manipulated like puppets, came to our aid. With their help, the gates were forcibly opened, and we were escorted back to our homes. However, it was clear that some new influence (entirely separate from any inherent facts) had been at play. I won’t claim that the rioters were acting on orders, but I can’t dismiss what I heard from outraged gentlemen in the medical class—that this disgraceful incident wouldn’t have occurred, nor would the petition have been initiated at the same time, if it hadn’t been well understood that our opponents needed a tool at the Infirmary Board. What I do know is that the riot wasn’t solely or mainly caused by the students at Surgeons’ Hall. I know that Dr. Christison’s class assistant was one of the main rioters—(hisses and order)—and the foul language he used could only be justified by the suggestion I heard that he was drunk. I’m not saying Dr. Christison was aware of or approved of his presence, but I do believe that he wouldn’t have been there if he thought the doctor would strongly object to him being present.

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.’

Dr. Christison—“I have to appeal to you again, my Lord. I believe the words used about my assistant are not appropriate for a gathering like this—(hear)—especially when the gentleman isn't here to defend himself or to tell us whether it's true or not. I don't know if it's true or not, but I do know my assistant is a true gentleman; otherwise, he wouldn't have been my assistant in the first place. So I ask you again, my Lord, should any person be allowed to speak this way? I'm completely certain that not a single gentleman in this entire assembly would have used such language about someone who isn’t present.”

Miss Jex-Blake—‘If Dr. Christison prefers——’

Miss Jex-Blake—‘If Dr. Christison prefers—’

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

Dr. Christison—‘I want nothing more than for this awful language to stop.’

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

The Lord Provost—‘I don’t know what the bad language is. She just said that in her opinion——’

Dr. Christison—‘In her opinion the gentleman was intoxicated.’

Dr. Christison—"In her opinion, the guy was drunk."

Miss Jex-Blake—‘I did not say he was intoxicated. I said I was told he was.’

Miss Jex-Blake—‘I didn't say he was drunk. I said I was informed that he was.’

The Lord Provost—‘Withdraw the word “intoxicated.”’

The Lord Provost—‘Take out 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).”

Miss Jex-Blake—“I said it was the only excuse for his behavior. If Dr. Christison prefers that I say he used that language while sober, I’ll retract the other assumption” (laughter).”

300The Pall Mall,^[77] chuckling sympathetically over this and another repartee, wisely concluded:

300The Pall Mall,^[77] laughing with understanding over this and another clever comeback, wisely decided:

“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.”

“It is truly hoped that these unfortunate little disagreements will end soon. It benefits no one for female students to be bombarded with mud, nor should they resort to the retaliation exhibited by their supporter at the Royal Infirmary meeting on Monday.”

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

So the conflict intensified, and it wouldn’t have been surprising if most people, except the very brave, had felt scared.

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

But Edinburgh also had some really 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.

At the meeting on January 2nd, Reverend Professor Charteris was deemed out of order for a point he raised, but as soon as he could, he returned to his topic and proposed a motion expressing the contributors' wish for immediate arrangements to allow ladies into the Infirmary. This motion, seconded by Sir James Coxe, M.D., was narrowly defeated.

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

Several things happened at that meeting, though, that were more valuable 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.”

A petition was read, signed by 956 women of Edinburgh, expressing “our strong interest in the issues at hand, and our sincere hope that the Managers will provide complete opportunities for hospital training to all women who want to join 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.”

Even more important was the arrival of Mrs. Nichol, a well-known and very gracious older woman, who carried the essence of early Victorian womanhood. She stepped forward to ask a question—“not,” she said, “on behalf of the female students, but for those women who were eager to see what kind of men would be the sole medical caregivers of the next generation if women doctors were not permitted.”

“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 301spirit, 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.”

“If the students currently in the Infirmary can’t handle the idea of having women as fellow students, how can they truly have the scientific mindset or the personal purity of thought required to be present in the female wards during sensitive procedures and examinations of female patients?”

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

Yes, there were many brave individuals in Edinburgh besides the female 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.

This question was met with “laughter, hisses, and applause,” and no one dared to respond. No one except the rowdier students who were gathered in the gallery looking for some fun. They cheered for the question; but it was only when S. J.-B. stood up to speak—and of course she had to face the consequences of calling them “puppets”—that they really went all out, shouting and yelling and throwing peas at her.

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

"Well," said Professor Blackie, "now you can say you've fought with beasts in 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.”

Actually, she hadn’t planned to speak up again, but one of the professors gave her no choice. During a lengthy speech, he claimed that because of mixed education, a college in America “had become so degraded that a woman who respected herself avoided the contamination and would rather give up the benefits of years of study than wear the academic robe of one of its graduates.”

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

“Name the college,” said S. J.-B., and other voices joined in with the chant 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.”

“He spoke with authority.” (A voice—“What authority?”) “On the authority of Miss Blake herself, who ... when asked why she hadn’t continued her studies instead of coming here, told him that the reputation of female medical students in America had deteriorated so much that she couldn’t agree 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:

It can't be easy to speak when you've been waiting for your chance through a storm of boos and thrown peas; but now, S. J.-B.'s great bravery and honesty really stood 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 302hospital, 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.”

“She simply wanted to give a clear, unqualified denial to Professor X’s statement about her. She never made the statement he claimed she had. Throughout her entire visit to America, she had never attended a single session at any medical college whatsoever.... It was true that she had studied for two years in a women’s 302 hospital, and every day there made her increasingly eager to see women taking charge of their own care—(Great interruption and cries of ‘Order’)—and it was her experiences in that hospital and her knowledge of the women associated with it [One can almost hear her inward cry, ‘Oh, Lucy!’] that inspired her to dedicate her life to obtaining medical education for herself and for other women as well.... Some of the friends she was most proud of were women doctors in America who were entirely educated there, and she hardly knew anyone equal to them, certainly no one better.”

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.)

It was only after several calls that Professor X stood up and said, “I’m sure everyone in this meeting would acknowledge that I’ve shared what I genuinely believe to be the accurate account of what happened, based on my recollection from two years ago—(Hisses and cheers)—between Miss Jex-Blake and me. If I misunderstood what was said, or if my memory let me down and I’ve stated something incorrect, I sincerely apologize, as it was completely unintentional.” (Applause and hisses.)

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

A bit of a disappointing result after a long period of training in scientific precision.

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!

It was now that the Professor of Moral Philosophy (Calderwood) stood up, deeply affected beneath his usually calm and impartial demeanor, and pointed out that Professor X, while discussing the amendment “that the question (of the women students) be left to the unbiased decision of the Managers,” had inadvertently provided them with a pretty good example of an unbiased opinion!

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

There are actually worse enemies than the honest beasts in Ephesus.

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

A hurting heart lay behind that joke of Professor Blackie’s if one can judge by the following letter:

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

My dear Miss Blake,

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 303time, ‘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.

It doesn’t matter to you, my poor sympathy for all of you right now, and my complete horror at how your enemies behave; but I want to share how upset my husband was by everything he saw and heard at the Infirmary meeting last week. He sat during tea time, shielding his eyes and quietly saying from time to time, ‘I’m ashamed of my gender.’ I’ve never seen him so hurt before. I’m sure that the unmanly and indecent behavior of these poorly led young men, along with the dishonesty of their leaders, will eventually benefit you. If men lose our respect and trust, they should reflect on themselves. Your excellent letters must be very impactful.

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

Pardon this interruption, and believe me, I'll always be your true friend,

E.H.S. Blackie.”

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

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

Huntly Lodge,

Monday Evening.

My dear Miss Jex-Blake,

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.

I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for you and your friends this evening, and I can't resist the urge to express how thankful everyone who cares about the well-being of the next generation must be to you for your noble fight in a battle that will soon be won—the outcomes of which I truly believe will yield valuable rewards long after you are gone.

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.

You and the struggle you’re fighting remind me strongly of the battle that the women in America bravely fought against the evil of slavery. I hope your struggle ends much sooner than theirs did, but while I sympathize with you, I can’t help but feel that the debate is doing a lot to educate people’s minds, making it better for the cause than if you faced no opposition at all; in the end, it might be better for you too, because by the time you’re ready to take action, people will be more accustomed to the idea and supportive of you.

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

Meanwhile, let us know if there's anything we outsiders can do for you, and believe me, I send my 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.

I’m sure you’d like to know that I don’t feel any worse for today’s work.

You will excuse haste and some little weariness.”

You will forgive the rush and a bit of tiredness.

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

Once again, we feel the urge to quote from an enjoyable budget:

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

My dear Sophy,

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.

One line to wish you many happy returns on your 21st birthday, and I hope most of them are quieter than this birthday is likely to be.

304I feel sure you will carry your point eventually, and should recommend you to stick to Edinburgh where you have already so very nearly won.

304I’m confident you’ll ultimately succeed, and I suggest you stay in Edinburgh where you’ve come so close to winning.

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

It must be really frustrating at times, and require a lot of patience: because half the enemy seems clever and the other half seems like tough guys.

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.

The speech you gave last, when the audience should have been cleared out earlier, struck me as really good; and I thought Maclaren handled the opposition that day very well. I wouldn’t get too involved in newspaper debates if I were you; and I doubt if ... was worth the trouble. But he could be important for personal or local reasons that I’m not aware of.

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.

I have no doubt about the final victory, but the wait is really draining for the fighter... Stay calm, and don’t let the enemy provoke you. They will definitely 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:

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

“Dear Lady Students,

“Dear Women Students,

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

Let us encourage you to keep going—” 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:

Here both sides were firmly entrenched, with no end in sight to the fighting; yet the passion in the hearts of generous supporters was burning strong. The Lord Provost refused to accept his defeat. He called a meeting of citizens, and soon a committee was formed to share a burden that had become too heavy for just a few women to carry. The list of supporters grew rapidly, gathering some of the most respected names in the country, until it became a rallying cry for those struggling around the world. The significance of all this can be best described in S. J.-B.’s own words, written about 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 305such 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.”

“To the Committee we owe a debt of gratitude that I find hard to express fully. From then until the end of our struggle in Edinburgh, they supported us with loyalty and a willingness to help that was never marked by intrusiveness or unnecessary interference. In a very short time, they took the entire burden of financial risk and responsibility off our shoulders, and with various forms of personal and public help, they made it possible for us to keep fighting, in which, without their support, we would have been hopelessly outnumbered. With so many providing us invaluable assistance, it feels unfair to single anyone out for special thanks; however, I must acknowledge our deep gratitude to three men, two of whom have already passed away: the Lord Provost of Edinburgh (William Law), who consistently lent us his official support and assistance; Mr. Alexander Russel, Editor of the Scotsman, whose advocacy was invaluable during those times when our main hope and challenge was to get the real truth fully and fearlessly presented to the public; and our still invaluable friend, Professor Masson, whose support for the weak and oppressed has always been worthy of the noblest days of chivalry.”

306

CHAPTER IX
THE ACTION FOR LIBEL

It is not to be supposed, however, that the dark days were at an end. Far from it. The next act in the drama was an action for libel brought against S. J.-B. by Professor Christison’s assistant.

It shouldn't be assumed, though, that the dark days were over. Not at all. The next chapter in this story was a libel lawsuit filed against S. J.-B. by Professor Christison’s assistant.

Of course she took the lawyer’s letter smiling, but it must have seemed well-nigh the last straw, for she was sorely overstrained by the public meetings and all the criticism they called forth; and her entire Christmas holiday had been spent in calling on Infirmary managers. These were naturally of all sorts, from the big bustling prosperous brewer to the refined gentlewoman of equally restricted outlook; and the strain of adaptation to such divers personalities must have been very great.

Of course, she accepted the lawyer’s letter with a smile, but it must have felt like the last straw, as she was really worn out from the public meetings and all the criticism they generated. Her entire Christmas holiday had been spent visiting Infirmary managers, who were all kinds of people, from the big, busy, successful brewer to the refined lady with a similarly limited perspective. The pressure of adjusting to such different personalities must have been quite intense.

Even on Christmas Day ^[78] (a Sunday!) she had been at the Scotsman office, arranging with the Editor for the alteration and publication of various entries on the following day. Things were not made easier by the fact that a heavy fall of snow had been followed by alternating spells of slush and ice. All the other students had gone out of town, and in many ways it would have been better all round if she had gone too. But her supporters simply could not get on without her. She might on occasion be difficult and trying, expecting more of people than they were prepared to give; but no one else could even compare with her in knowledge of all the facts and arguments that might at any moment be called for 307by the emergencies of a big public controversy. There was no need for professors, editors and others to charge their memories with endless minutiae when S. J.-B. was at hand, clear and concise, as a book of handy reference.

Even on Christmas Day ^[78] (a Sunday!), she had been at the Scotsman office, working with the Editor to update and publish various entries the next day. Things weren’t made easier by the heavy snowfall that had turned into slush and ice. All the other students had left town, and in many ways, it would have been better if she had too. But her supporters really couldn’t manage without her. She could be challenging and demanding at times, expecting more from people than they were willing to give; but no one else could match her knowledge of all the facts and arguments that might be needed at any moment in a major public controversy. There was no need for professors, editors, and others to clutter their minds with endless details when S. J.-B. was around, clear and concise, like a handy reference book. 307

Life was too full this year for the accustomed backward survey at midnight on December 31st; there was no quotation of “May the New Year cherish—” This is the entry:

Life was too busy this year for the usual reflection at midnight on December 31st; there was no saying of “May the New Year cherish—” This is the entry:

“Less utterly hopeless tonight,—only so tired. E. P. just back, bless her!”

“Not completely hopeless tonight—just so tired. E. P. just got back, bless her!”

Well, in any case, here was the lawyer’s letter, and it just had to be faced. There is no reference to it in the diary till long after—indeed, except as a register of facts that have now lost all interest, the diary becomes almost non-existent—but, in a day or two, the news was all over the country. It was more than could be expected of human nature that some of the women students should not have felt aggrieved that the situation had been complicated by their leader’s impulsiveness. On the whole they were loyal, especially the three first recruits, Mrs. Thorne, Mrs. Evans, and “E. P.,—bless her!”

Well, in any case, here was the lawyer’s letter, and it had to be dealt with. There’s no mention of it in the diary for quite a while—actually, aside from a record of events that have now lost all interest, the diary becomes almost irrelevant—but within a day or two, the news spread all over the country. It was too much to expect from human nature that some of the women students wouldn’t feel upset that their leader's impulsiveness had complicated the situation. Overall, they were loyal, especially the three initial recruits, Mrs. Thorne, Mrs. Evans, and “E. P.—bless her!”

But, as ever, faithful friends gathered round, and, if the postman’s visit had become a thing to be dreaded, he also brought much good cheer. Here is a letter from the wife of a leading minister of religion:

But, as always, loyal friends gathered around, and while the postman's visit had turned into something to be feared, he also brought a lot of good news. Here is a letter from the wife of a prominent religious leader:

“Dear Mrs. Evans,

“Hi Mrs. Evans,

The opposition have ‘crowned the edifice’ by bringing that action of Damages against Miss Jex-Blake,—how unspeakably low and unmanly it all is. I never knew before that saying a man was drunk was actionable; if it is we must be very careful how we speak even of our nearest and dearest. I think a subscription ought to be set on foot at once to pay Miss Jex-Blake’s expenses, and I shall be delighted to contribute my mite.”

The opposition has really outdone themselves by suing Miss Jex-Blake for damages—it's so low and cowardly. I never realized that saying someone was drunk could lead to a lawsuit; if that's the case, we need to watch what we say even about our closest friends and family. I believe we should start a fundraiser right away to cover Miss Jex-Blake's expenses, and I would be happy to contribute my small part.

One can only quote one or two out of many:

One can only mention one or two out of many:

“The Athenaeum,

Jan. 23, 1871.

My dear Sophy,

My dear Sophy

I will gladly pay half expenses of your action for libel brought by Dr. Christison’s assistant.

I will happily cover half of the costs for your libel case against Dr. Christison’s assistant.

I think it vital that you should have the best legal assistance, and win. Be careful, and don’t let them ‘draw’ you into indiscretions 308that are most forgiveable morally, but damaging to the cause practically.

I believe it's essential for you to have the best legal support and to win. Be cautious, and don't let them drag you into mistakes that might be morally forgivable but practically harmful to your case. 308

I don’t the least want to lecture you or assume the Mentor. I only want you to win all along the line.

I don’t want to lecture you or act like a mentor. I just want you to succeed in everything.

Your aff. brother,

T. W. J.-B.”

The next is written in a clear and clerkly hand:

The next part is written in a clear and neat handwriting:

“Miss Jex-Blake, Ph.D.

Edinburgh.

Kinbuck, 7 February, 1871.

Madam,

Ma'am,

We the undersigned desire to express our most sincere sympathy with your cause and earnest hopes for your success.

We, the undersigned, want to express our deepest sympathy for your cause and our heartfelt wishes for your success.

I am, Your obedient Servants,—”

I am, Your loyal servants,—”

Follows a list of four names, apparently of young business men. One wonders which of them conceived the bold idea of the “Ph.D.” How gladly they would have made it “M.D.” if they could!

Follows a list of four names, apparently of young business men. One wonders which of them came up with the bold idea of the “Ph.D.” How gladly they would have changed it to “M.D.” if they could!

The letter was addressed to “Miss Jex-Blake, Royal Infirmary, Edinburgh,” and is grimly endorsed, “Not for Royal Infirmary.”

The letter was addressed to “Miss Jex-Blake, Royal Infirmary, Edinburgh,” and is darkly marked, “Not for Royal Infirmary.”

One more letter we are tempted to quote with very mingled feelings:

One more letter we're tempted to quote with mixed feelings:

“19 Inverleith Row,
Edinburgh.
27 January 1871.

My Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

My Dear Miss Jex-Blake

I see that Mr. C. has raised an action against you. If you have not already fixed on a counsel to defend you, will you allow me to propose that you should employ my son-in-law, Mr. Trayner. I propose this, not for his advantage but your own, as I am quite sure from the great interest he would take in your case, and also that I know you would find in him, not only an able advocate, but a kind friend, that you would have no cause to regret the choice.

I see that Mr. C. has taken legal action against you. If you haven’t already chosen a lawyer to defend you, would you let me suggest that you hire my son-in-law, Mr. Trayner? I suggest this not for his benefit but for yours, as I’m confident that he would be very invested in your case and that you would find in him not only a skilled advocate but also a supportive friend, so you wouldn’t regret your decision.

Believe me, dear Miss Jex-Blake,
Very truly yours,
Margaret Wyld.”

From another source one learns that Mr. Trayner [now Lord Trayner], if employed, would have done the work without fee, from sheer sympathy with the cause.

From another source, it is mentioned that Mr. Trayner [now Lord Trayner], if hired, would have done the work for free, out of pure sympathy for the cause.

The pity of it! One cannot help feeling how differently 309things might have gone, if S. J.-B. had availed herself of this suggestion. “The best legal advice” is an expression capable of varied interpretation, and of course S. J.-B.—young and inexperienced—was guided by her solicitors. It is possible, too, of course, that the advice was good.

The sadness of it! One can't help but think how differently things might have turned out if S. J.-B. had taken this suggestion. "The best legal advice" is a phrase that can have many meanings, and of course, S. J.-B.—young and inexperienced—was led by her lawyers. It's also possible, of course, that the advice was indeed good.

Young and inexperienced she was in matters of this kind,—full of hope that she, who had nothing to hide and everything to gain from full publicity, would see herself substantially justified in an open court of law.

Young and inexperienced she was in these kinds of matters—full of hope that she, who had nothing to hide and everything to gain from complete transparency, would see herself significantly justified in a public courtroom.

On the whole, public opinion was against her. All sorts of stories were rife, many of them entirely false, some with just that grain of truth that makes a lie so deadly. When the Winter Session came to an end in March, the President of the College of Physicians and the President of the College of Surgeons both announced that they would not preside at the prize-giving if lady students were to be present and to receive their prizes on this occasion.

Overall, public opinion was against her. All kinds of stories were circulating, many of them completely untrue, some containing just enough truth to make them particularly harmful. When the Winter Session ended in March, the President of the College of Physicians and the President of the College of Surgeons both declared that they would not lead the prize-giving ceremony if female students were allowed to attend and receive their awards on this occasion.

On the other hand S. J.-B. was, of course, much sought after by outsiders who admired her talent and courage. In April she was urged by the leading women suffragists of the day to speak at a Suffrage meeting in London, and, after consulting Professor Masson and other friends in Edinburgh as to the probable effect on her own “Cause,” she agreed.

On the other hand, S. J.-B. was definitely in high demand by people outside her circle who admired her skills and bravery. In April, the prominent women suffragists of the time encouraged her to speak at a Suffrage meeting in London. After discussing it with Professor Masson and other friends in Edinburgh about the likely impact on her own “Cause,” she agreed.

“Darling,” writes her sorely-tried Mother, “speaking at a public meeting will be anything but restful. You positively require rest to go on with the real work and worrying work before you. May you be guided aright.”

“Darling,” writes her exhausted Mother, “speaking at a public meeting will be anything but relaxing. You definitely need rest to continue with the important and stressful work ahead of you. I hope you make the right choice.”

The speech took place, however, and was a great success. Her “pathetic voice” and clear exposition of the argument deduced from her own trying experience are referred to repeatedly. This was her first public association with a cause of which, throughout life, she was one of the sanest and most practical exponents.

The speech happened, and it was a huge success. Her “pathetic voice” and straightforward explanation of the argument drawn from her own challenging experience are mentioned often. This was her first public connection to a cause that she would represent as one of the most sensible and practical advocates throughout her life.

It was in the course of this visit to London, too, that she made the acquaintance of Mr. (afterwards Sir James) Stansfeld, whose influence was to prove so priceless in the farther development of the movement.

It was during this visit to London that she met Mr. (later Sir James) Stansfeld, whose influence would be invaluable for the further development of the movement.

Meanwhile the law ran its slow and expensive course.

Meanwhile, the legal process took its time and was costly.

310

“Monday, May 22nd.... White Millar wants to know if I will say C. ‘wasn’t drunk’ if he on his side allows that I ‘had been told so.’

“Monday, May 22nd.... White Millar wants to know if I will say C. ‘wasn’t drunk’ if he agrees that I ‘had been told so.’

I don’t want to be too obstinately pugnacious, but I hate the idea of giving a handle to people to say I ‘ate my words’. Calderwood wisely says it should be a sine qua non that the public should know the overture came from them, and I should like also to make C. own he was ‘Foremost among the rioters’.

I don’t want to be too stubbornly aggressive, but I dislike the idea of giving people a reason to claim I ‘ate my words’. Calderwood wisely says it should be a essential condition that the public knows the initiative came from them, and I’d also like to make C. admit he was ‘Foremost among the rioters’.

“Tuesday May 23rd. I have just accepted Lord Advocate at fee of £200, so now it shall go on unless they pay costs....

“Tuesday, May 23rd. I just accepted the position of Lord Advocate for £200, so it will proceed unless they cover the costs....

“May 26th, Friday 10 p.m. ‘Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.’

“May 26th, Friday 10 p.m. ‘Where the wicked stop causing trouble and the tired find peace.’”

How inclined one feels to turn one’s face to the wall and say with Elijah, ‘Lord, take away my life, I am not better than my fathers’.

How tempting it is to turn one's back to the wall and say with Elijah, ‘Lord, take my life, I am no better than my ancestors’.

The obstinate lying of these students in preference to giving any information possibly useful to us;—the constant hisses and rudeness even in the streets,—J’s insolent civility, especially to Miss B.,—those two scamps shouting ‘Whore’ after S. M. M., as she crossed the George Square Gardens yesterday evening, etc.

The stubborn lies of these students instead of providing any useful information to us, the constant hissing and rudeness even in the streets, J's disrespectful politeness, especially towards Miss B., those two troublemakers shouting 'Whore' at S. M. M. as she walked through George Square Gardens yesterday evening, etc.

Oh, dear, I hope Tuesday at least will end one worry satisfactorily. I think it must clear me morally at any rate!—and yet I have that nervous quiver through me as when one wakes with nightmare. I wonder if any such hysterical wretch ever had to do such work as mine!

Oh, dear, I hope Tuesday will at least resolve one worry in a satisfying way. I think it should clear me morally, at least!—and yet I feel that nervous shiver through me like when you wake up from a nightmare. I wonder if any poor, anxious person has ever had to do work like mine!

And yet what good friends and helpers! Gilbert’s ever ready kindness, Wilson’s hearty interest, ‘Well, if you lose on Tuesday, even you will not be more vexed than I shall’.”

And still, what great friends and helpers! Gilbert’s constant kindness, Wilson’s genuine interest, “Well, if you lose on Tuesday, even you won't be more upset than I will.”

The case came on for trial on May 31st. On the morning of the day, S. J.-B. received the following letter from her Mother:

The case went to trial on May 31st. That morning, S. J.-B. got the following letter from her mom:

“God’s protection and blessing be with you, my own precious child. I will not harass and plague you by writing further than to assure you I am in spirit present with you.

“God’s protection and blessings are with you, my precious child. I won’t bother you by writing more than to let you know that I am with you in spirit.”

Your loving,

M. E. J.-B.

I am quite well, and picturing how calm and collected you are, and how many many are thinking of you with friendly thoughts.”

I’m doing really well, and imagining how calm and composed you are, and how so many people are thinking of you with warm thoughts.

The case lasted two days. It was reported verbally in the Scotsman and other daily papers. “Throughout the day the Court-room was densely crowded, many ladies being 311among the audience.” For many, of course, this was the first opportunity of seeing these amazing women, and for some time the provincial and weekly papers ran riot in impressions of this kind:

The case went on for two days. It was reported verbally in the Scotsman and other daily newspapers. “Throughout the day, the courtroom was packed, with many ladies among the audience.” For many, this was their first chance to see these incredible women, and for a while, the local and weekly papers went wild with impressions of this sort:

“Mrs. Thorne succeeded as witness, and the assembled public thought it very hard that she should be neither odd nor eccentric. Why was she married? She was a medical student and ought not to be married. Sedate, quiet and ladylike-looking, and dressed in an unobtrusive fashion, and yet fairly within the pale of orthodoxy, Mrs. Thorne confused the minds of many.”

“Mrs. Thorne succeeded as a witness, and the gathered crowd found it quite hard to believe that she was neither strange nor quirky. Why was she married? She was a medical student and shouldn’t really be married. Calm, composed, and looking very ladylike, dressed in an unassuming way, yet still fairly conventional, Mrs. Thorne puzzled many people.”

“Miss Pechey was the sole remaining witness, and created a good deal of fresh interest. A tall figure and a classically shaped head with dark hair, are generally supposed to be the attributes of young ladies who keep to their ‘sphere.’ That female medical students should dare to be good-looking, dare to be married, dare to be dressed in good taste, is, of course, an unpardonable crime.”

“Miss Pechey was the only remaining witness and sparked a lot of new interest. A tall figure and a classically shaped head with dark hair are usually thought to be features of young women who stay in their ‘sphere.’ The idea that female medical students should be allowed to be attractive, get married, and dress stylishly is, of course, an unforgivable offense.”

“Great interest of course was manifested in [Miss Jex-Blake’s] appearance in the witness box. Plainly dressed in black, with white round her neck and wrists, she presented the appearance of a tall and well formed, handsome and determined woman, with dark hair and eyes. She was perfectly cool and collected, and her manner was a great contrast to the nervousness of Dr. Christison and the ‘smartness’ of Dr. Bell.”

“Great interest was certainly shown in [Miss Jex-Blake’s] appearance in the witness box. Dressed simply in black, with white around her neck and wrists, she looked like a tall, well-built, attractive, and determined woman, with dark hair and eyes. She was completely calm and composed, and her demeanor was a striking contrast to the nervousness of Dr. Christison and the showiness of Dr. Bell.”

So much for the “hysterical wretch”!

So much for the “hysterical mess”!

In truth the women had learned their lesson. There was no bitter, impulsive speaking now. They said what they meant to say, and they said it well and with restraint. “These customers are composed!” a man in the back of the Court was heard to exclaim.

In reality, the women had learned their lesson. There was no harsh, impulsive talk anymore. They expressed themselves clearly and thoughtfully. “These customers are composed!” a man in the back of the Court was heard to shout.

As has been said, S. J.-B. had everything to gain from publicity, from a full exposure of the facts. The worst she had done had been to state her case in public without fear of persons, without much tact and discretion, though with no exaggeration of the actual truth. The public had already passed judgment on her. She was now on her defence, desirous only of asking her opponents, under cross-examination, to deny the truth of what she had said.

As mentioned, S. J.-B. had everything to gain from publicity and a complete disclosure of the facts. The worst she had done was to present her case publicly without fear of others, lacking in tact and discretion, but without exaggerating the actual truth. The public had already made its judgment about her. She was now defending herself, wanting only to challenge her opponents, under cross-examination, to deny the truth of what she had stated.

But the law of libel is an intricate and parlous thing. S. J.-B. had been told by several people of standing—including her teacher and his assistant—that Professor Christison’s assistant 312had been a ringleader in the riot; but she did not know of her own knowledge that he had been so.

But the law of libel is complicated and risky. S. J.-B. had been informed by several respected individuals—including her teacher and his assistant—that Professor Christison’s assistant 312 had been a leader in the riot; however, she did not know for sure that this was the case.

“I wished,” she says, “to plead the substantial truth of my statement; but, being, of course, ignorant of Scotch law, I was overruled by my Counsel, among whom was the Lord Advocate of Scotland (Young), on the ground that I could not personally prove the truth of what I had said, as indeed I did not know the young man by sight, and it would be held an aggravation of the injury to plead ‘Veritas’ in a matter which was, after all, only one of hearsay. I was assured that, if the case came to trial, abundant opportunity would be given to prove the young man’s real conduct in the matter.”

“I wanted,” she says, “to argue for the solid truth of my statement; but, of course, since I didn’t understand Scottish law, I was overruled by my Counsel, which included the Lord Advocate of Scotland (Young), on the grounds that I couldn’t personally prove what I had said, as I actually didn’t know the young man by sight, and it would be considered an even bigger issue to claim ‘Truth’ in a situation that was, after all, just hearsay. I was promised that if the case went to trial, there would be plenty of chances to prove the young man’s actual behavior in the matter.”

This opportunity, however, was relentlessly withheld.

This opportunity, however, was continuously denied.

The case for the defence was one to rejoice the heart of a brilliant counsel, being full of technical opportunity,—and to a brilliant counsel it fell. So entirely did Mr. Shand (afterwards Lord Shand) rely on his own bow and spear to win the day,—and it must be admitted that there was nothing else to rely on—that he dared to risk the conclusions which must inevitably be drawn from his omission to call the pursuer as a witness on his own side; he dared to provoke a laugh by saying that Mr. C. “was not so fond of public appearances as the defendant.” He laid down in his opening statement the law that must govern the case, and with dogged tenacity, he brought the Judge and everyone else in Court to heel. Lord Mure, as it chanced, was easily led. The choice of a Judge in Scotland lies with the pursuer, and in any case it might not have been easy to find one in those days who had a prejudice in favour of women doctors.

The defense's case was a joy for a smart lawyer, filled with technical chances—and it fell to a smart lawyer. Mr. Shand (later Lord Shand) completely relied on his own skills to win the case—and it's true there was nothing else to depend on—that he dared to ignore the conclusions that could easily be drawn from not calling the pursuer as a witness for his side; he even took the risk of making a joke by saying that Mr. C. "wasn't as keen on public appearances as the defendant." In his opening statement, he laid out the law that would govern the case, and with stubborn determination, he got the Judge and everyone else in Court to follow his lead. Lord Mure, as it happened, was easy to influence. In Scotland, the pursuer gets to choose the Judge, and in any case, it wouldn't have been easy to find one back then who favored women doctors.

One is glad to know that the protagonist appeared “cool and collected” to the indifferent observer, but she must have been on the rack much of the time, for the “substantial truth and right” for which she longed, got no chance at all, or rather they saved their lives only by losing them, so to speak; and that is one of time’s revenges that youth cannot foresee.

One feels relieved to know that the protagonist seemed “cool and collected” to the indifferent observer, but she must have been suffering a lot of the time, because the “substantial truth and right” she yearned for never had a chance, or rather, they only survived by losing themselves, so to speak; and that is one of life’s ironies that youth cannot anticipate.

The full report of the case appeared in the Scotsman of May 31st and June 1st. The following extracts are taken mainly from the Edinburgh Evening Courant, because they 313are slightly abbreviated, and because they appeared in a paper unfriendly to the cause of the women.

The complete report of the case was published in the Scotsman on May 31st and June 1st. The following excerpts are mostly from the Edinburgh Evening Courant, as they are slightly shortened and appeared in a publication that was not supportive of the women's cause. 313

“There could be no doubt,” said the advocate for the pursuer, “that, however injurious the arguments she used might be, if they were justified by facts, it was perfectly open to Miss Jex-Blake to maintain that her statements were true, and to take what is called an ‘issue in justification,’ for the purpose of establishing upon her own issue, as counter to the present one, what she said. But she had not chosen to do that: it was not pretended that the statements were true; and therefore the only question the jury had to try was, practically, whether those statements were to the pursuer’s loss, injury, and damage.^[79]”

“There’s no doubt,” said the advocate for the pursuer, “that even though the arguments she used might be harmful, if they were based on facts, Miss Jex-Blake could definitely argue that her statements were true and take what’s called an ‘issue in justification’ to establish her own claims against the current ones. But she chose not to do that; it wasn’t claimed that the statements were true; and so the only question the jury needed to decide was, essentially, whether those statements caused the pursuer’s loss, harm, and damage.^[79]”

This argument, fair enough as coming from an advocate, represents to all intents and purposes, the attitude adopted by the Judge. The case positively bristled with arguments, but the humblest appearance of a really relevant fact brought Mr. Shand to his feet with a taboo.

This argument, reasonable enough coming from a supporter, reflects the attitude taken by the Judge. The case was full of arguments, but even the slightest hint of a truly relevant fact made Mr. Shand jump to his feet with a sense of urgency.

“Thomas Sanderson deponed in answer to Mr. M‘Laren—I am a student of medicine and last winter I attended Dr. Laycock’s class. On the 18th November I was at the gate leading to Surgeons’ Hall. There was a large crowd of students and a larger crowd of other people at the gate. The students were both inside and outside the gate. The majority were University students. I assisted the ladies to pass through the College gate. I was pulled about a little by the students. The students were hooting, and oaths and offensive expressions were used.

“Thomas Sanderson testified in response to Mr. M‘Laren—I’m a medical student, and last winter I attended Dr. Laycock’s class. On November 18th, I was at the gate leading to Surgeons’ Hall. There was a large crowd of students and an even larger crowd of other people at the gate. The students were both inside and outside the gate, mostly University students. I helped the ladies get through the College gate. I was pushed around a bit by the students. The students were shouting, using profanity and offensive language.”

Among the students inside the gate did you recognize Mr. C.?

Did you see Mr. C. among the students inside the gate?

Mr. Shand (to witness)—Don’t answer that question.

Lord Mure sustained the objection.

Lord Mure upheld the objection.

Mr. M‘Laren—Did you see Mr. C. at any time on the 18th November?

Mr. M'Laren—Did you see Mr. C. at any point on November 18th?

Witness—Yes.

Witness—Absolutely.

Where did you see him?—At the Surgeons’ Hall.

At what time of the day did you see him?—A few minutes after four o’clock.

At what time did you see him?—A few minutes after four o'clock.

How was Mr. C. conducting himself?

How was Mr. C behaving?

Lord Mure disallowed the question.

Lord Mure rejected the question.

E. C. C., examined by the Lord Advocate, deponed—I am the pursuer in this action. I was twenty-one years of age last August.

E. C. C., questioned by the Lord Advocate, said—I am the person bringing this case. I turned twenty-one last August.

You remember the riot at Surgeons’ Hall on the 18th of November?—I do.

You remember the riot at Surgeons’ Hall on November 18th?—I do.

Where were you?

Where were you at?

314Mr. Shand objected to this question. His Lordship had already ruled that no evidence could be led as to whether the witness took part in these proceedings; and it seemed as if the Lord Advocate was attempting to evade his Lordship’s decision.

314Mr. Shand raised an objection to this question. His Lordship had already decided that no evidence could be presented regarding whether the witness was involved in these proceedings; it seemed like the Lord Advocate was trying to sidestep his Lordship’s ruling.

Lord Mure said this was a general question and he allowed it to be put to the witness.

Lord Mure said this was a general question, and he allowed it to be asked of the witness.

The Lord Advocate—Where were you at the time? Witness—At what time?

The Lord Advocate—Where were you then? Witness—At what time?

At the time of the riot?—I was at the College of Surgeons during part of the time.

At the time of the riot?—I was at the College of Surgeons for part of it.

When did you go there?—Three o’clock.

When did you go there?—At three o'clock.

When did the riot begin? Shortly after four.

When did the riot start? Shortly after four.

What were you doing between three and four?—I was in the class for practising physic.

What were you doing between three and four? — I was in physics practice class.

When did it come out?—A few minutes before four.

Was there a mob of students at the gate?

Was there a crowd of students at the gate?

Mr. Shand—Your lordship will understand that I am objecting to all these questions.

Mr. Shand—Your honor, I want to say that I am objecting to all these questions.

The Lord Advocate—Were you present during the whole of the riot?

The Lord Advocate—Were you there for the entire riot?

Mr. Shand—I object to that question.

Mr. Shand—I refuse to answer that question.

Lord Mure sustained the objection.”

"Lord Mure upheld the objection."

In addressing the jury, Mr. Shand said,

In his address to the jury, Mr. Shand said,

“A slander had been committed and was unrepented, and only by a verdict from the jury could the calumny be wiped off. A nominal sum, however, would be an injury instead of an assistance. Excessive damages ^[80] he did not ask, but only such a reasonable sum as would mark their sense of the injury inflicted on the pursuer by the statements made in his absence.”

“A slander had occurred and remained unacknowledged, and only a jury's verdict could erase the falsehood. However, a small amount would cause more harm than good. He didn't request excessive damages ^[80] but only a reasonable amount that would reflect their understanding of the harm done to him by the statements made while he was not present.”

The Lord Advocate’s summing up was humorous in the extreme, and called forth peals of laughter at the pursuer’s expense; indeed in the end he almost went so far as to produce a counter-wave of sympathy for the victim of his brilliant raillery. But, indeed, nothing could be made of the case as it stood.

The Lord Advocate’s summary was extremely funny and drew loud laughter at the pursuer’s expense; by the end, he almost inspired a wave of sympathy for the target of his clever jokes. But truly, nothing could be done with the case as it was.

In the final summing-up, Lord Mure said:

In the final summary, Lord Mure said:

“He had not allowed any evidence to prove that the pursuer had been a leader in the riot, because, according to his view of the authorities on the subject, it was incompetent to allow such evidence 315in the absence of an issue of justification. The jury had heard the evidence of Dr. Christison and others as to the injury which a man’s character was calculated to sustain from such a statement as had been made use of by the defender; and it was for the jury to judge whether that charge was one which was likely, without retractation or apology, to injure the pursuer’s character.

“He hadn't allowed any evidence to show that the plaintiff was a leader in the riot because, in his opinion, it was inappropriate to allow such evidence without an issue of justification. The jury had heard from Dr. Christison and others about the harm that a man's reputation could suffer from the kind of statement made by the defendant; it was up to the jury to decide whether that accusation was likely, without a retraction or apology, to damage the plaintiff’s reputation. 315”

The jury retired at five o’clock, and at half-past six they returned to Court, and gave a unanimous verdict in favour of the pursuer, assessing the damages at a farthing.”^[81]

The jury left at five o’clock, and at six thirty they came back to Court and delivered a unanimous verdict in favor of the plaintiff, awarding damages of a farthing.”^[81]

On the following day a leading article in the Glasgow Herald made the following comment:

On the next day, a major article in the Glasgow Herald made this comment:

“Miss Blake has not pled or proved the substantial truth of her accusations. She has preferred to challenge Mr. C. to prove their falsehood. We are altogether unable to understand why he should not have accepted the challenge, and why he omitted to deny the charges levelled against him. We cannot see how he could have expected a jury to give him substantial damages for his injured reputation when he refused to allow any enquiry into the circumstances in which he stood. The witnesses who were present on the occasion of the riot were not allowed to say whether they saw Mr. C. present at the riot, whether he took part in it, or what he said or did on the occasion if he was present. Miss Jex-Blake is accordingly very properly fined one farthing for her rash and libellous statements, and the public is left to wonder for what earthly reason Mr. C. brought his action. It has only one compensation for the loss of time involved in reading the evidence in a trial which has established nothing. Miss Jex-Blake has completely vindicated the title of her sex to aspire to the highest honours not merely in medicine but in law. She has shown herself a perfect mistress of the art of self defence. In no cricket field this season have there been so many dangerous balls admirably stopped, and so many badly bowled ones dexterously played. If the witness and the counsel could have interchanged positions, the change might possibly have had considerable effect upon the fortunes of Mr. C.”^[82]

“Miss Blake has not formally stated or proven the substantial truth of her accusations. Instead, she has challenged Mr. C. to prove they are false. We completely don’t understand why he didn’t accept the challenge or deny the charges against him. It’s hard to see how he could expect a jury to award him significant damages for his damaged reputation when he refused to allow any investigation into the circumstances surrounding him. The witnesses present during the riot weren’t allowed to testify about whether they saw Mr. C. there, whether he participated, or what he said or did if he was present. As a result, Miss Jex-Blake has been justly fined one farthing for her reckless and defamatory statements, leaving the public to wonder why Mr. C. even pursued this action. The only silver lining from the wasted time reading through evidence in a trial that established nothing is that Miss Jex-Blake has fully validated women's right to aspire to the highest honors not just in medicine but in law. She has proven to be an expert in self-defense. No cricket field this season has seen as many dangerous balls expertly stopped, and so many poorly thrown ones skillfully handled. If the witness and the counsel had switched places, it might have significantly changed the outcome for Mr. C.”^[82]

But the end was not yet. It was still possible for the Bench to make S. J.-B. responsible for the entire costs of the case, and in due time she was called upon to pay—in addition to the farthing damages—a bill of £915 11s. 1d.

But the end wasn't over yet. The court could still hold S. J.-B. accountable for all the costs of the case, and eventually, she was asked to pay—along with the token damages—a bill of £915 11s. 1d.

316Let it be recorded at once that her brother promptly redeemed his promise, and sent a cheque for half the amount.

316It should be noted right away that her brother quickly fulfilled his promise and sent a check for half the amount.

As soon as the decision of the Court was made known, one of the jurymen expressed his feelings in a letter to the Scotsman:

As soon as the Court's decision was announced, one of the jurors shared his thoughts in a letter to the Scotsman:

“Edinburgh, July 1871.

Sir,—As one of the jurymen before whom this case was tried, I am extremely disappointed to observe from the papers that the Court have found the pursuer entitled to his expenses.

Gentleman,—As one of the jurors who heard this case, I am very disappointed to see in the news that the Court has decided that the plaintiff is entitled to his expenses.

I have been anxiously looking forward to the determination of the case, in the hope that the verdict of the jury would be so applied as to receive the effect which they intended by it.

I have been eagerly awaiting the outcome of the case, hoping that the jury's verdict will have the impact they intended it to.

The jury were of the opinion that the pursuer should have submitted some evidence to them of his non-participation in the disgraceful riot, of which Miss Jex-Blake had so much reason to complain, to have entitled him to a verdict; and they would have made some representation to the presiding Judge on the subject had it been possible to do so.

The jury believed that the plaintiff should have presented some evidence of his absence from the shameful riot that Miss Jex-Blake had every reason to complain about in order to deserve a verdict in his favor. They would have addressed the presiding judge about this issue if it had been feasible.

After retiring, the first thing done was to appoint a foreman. This gentleman turned out to be in favour of a verdict for the defender. With the view of ascertaining the mind of the rest of the jury, he asked us individually to write down on pieces of paper whether we were for ‘libel’ or ‘no libel’. The result was an equal division—six for finding that there was a libel, and six for no libel. This was done a second time with the same result. In this predicament, and after considerable discussion as to the amount of damages, in the course of which I don’t think a larger sum than one shilling was even mentioned, even by those who thought there had been a libel, it was proposed to ask the Court whether the foreman had a casting-vote. This was done, and the Clerk came back and told us he had not. We then asked the Clerk whether we were entitled to find for the pursuer without giving any damages, and he told us we were not. Shortly after, we again sent for the Clerk, and enquired whether a farthing of damages would carry expenses against the defender. He stood a while, and said there was some new Act which provided that a farthing of damages would not carry expenses.

After retiring, the first thing we did was appoint a foreman. This guy turned out to support a verdict for the defendant. To gauge what the rest of the jury thought, he asked us individually to write down on pieces of paper whether we believed it was ‘libel’ or ‘no libel.’ The result was a tie—six voted for finding that there was a libel, and six voted for no libel. We did this a second time, and the result was the same. In this situation, after a lot of discussion about the amount of damages, during which I don’t think anyone mentioned more than one shilling, even those who believed there had been a libel, it was suggested that we ask the Court whether the foreman had a tie-breaking vote. We did that, and the Clerk came back and told us he did not. We then asked the Clerk if we were allowed to find in favor of the pursuer without awarding any damages, and he told us we were not. Shortly after that, we called the Clerk again and asked if a farthing in damages would cover expenses against the defendant. He paused for a moment and said there was some new Act that stated a farthing in damages wouldn’t cover expenses.

He went out to consult the Judge; but, having got this information from him, we agreed upon our verdict, and rung the bell for the macer at once. I had no doubt of the soundness of the Clerk’s opinion, and in that belief I concurred in the verdict finding the pursuer entitled to one farthing of damages. I certainly would not have done so, had I for a moment anticipated the result which has 317happened. I think the case a very hard one for the defender, more especially when, but for the opinion given by the Clerk, the verdict might have been in her favour. I think it is due to her that the public should be informed of the circumstances under which the verdict was given, for it seems a very illogical result to affirm that the pursuer had suffered no damage by the alleged slander, or, at least damage of only one farthing, and at the same time to compel the defender to pay a large sum for expenses, especially when the origin of the whole matter was a riot in which the ladies were so badly used.—I am, etc.

He went out to talk to the Judge; but after getting this information from him, we agreed on our verdict and rang the bell for the clerk right away. I had no doubt about the Clerk’s opinion, and because of that, I went along with the verdict stating that the claimant was entitled to one farthing in damages. I definitely wouldn’t have done so if I had even slightly expected the outcome that has happened. I think the case is very tough for the defender, especially since, without the Clerk's opinion, the verdict could have favored her. I believe it's important for the public to know the circumstances under which the verdict was given, as it seems very unreasonable to say that the claimant suffered no damage from the alleged slander, or at least only suffered damage worth one farthing, while at the same time forcing the defender to pay a significant amount for expenses, particularly when the whole issue started with a riot in which the ladies were treated very poorly.—I am, etc.

A Juror.”

This letter was followed by one from a lawyer:

“Edinburgh, July 12, 1871.

Sir,—I am not surprised at the letter in your publication of to-day, of a ‘A Juryman’ in the above case. The Clerk of Court was in substance correct in his statement to the jury that by a recent Act of Parliament the pursuer in an action of damages is not entitled to expenses if the verdict is for less than £5, but he was wrong in not at the same time informing them of the discretion still left to the Court....

Mr.,—I am not surprised by the letter in today’s publication from ‘A Juryman’ regarding the above case. The Clerk of Court was basically correct in telling the jury that, due to a recent Act of Parliament, the person seeking damages is not entitled to expenses if the verdict is for less than £5, but he was mistaken in not also informing them about the discretion still available to the Court....

But the thing that strikes me most forcibly in the juryman’s statement is how came it that a Clerk of Court was allowed to speak to the jury at all on such a matter. The public are indebted to the juryman for making this known, because it at once explains what was intended by the verdict. I do not think in the circumstances the verdict is worth anything, and I would strongly advise Miss Jex-Blake to appeal the case, and have the verdict set aside on the ground either of the Clerk’s interference, or that the decision of the Judges is wrong. Certainly the decision on the matter of expenses is very unsatisfactory to the legal profession, especially as it was given without the usual statement of the grounds of judgment.

But what stands out to me the most in the juryman’s statement is how a Clerk of Court was even allowed to talk to the jury about this issue. The public owes thanks to the juryman for highlighting this, as it immediately clarifies the intent behind the verdict. Given the circumstances, I don’t believe the verdict holds any value, and I would strongly advise Miss Jex-Blake to appeal the case and have the verdict overturned due to either the Clerk’s interference or the Judges’ incorrect decision. Certainly, the ruling regarding expenses is very unsatisfactory for the legal profession, particularly since it was made without the usual explanation of the grounds for judgment.

I am, etc.,

A lawyer.”

It remained for Miss Pechey to give her views on the practical outcome of the case. Poor little Hope Scholar! She had travelled far since the days when she had refused to “appeal” because she was better employed in listening to the nightingales.

It was up to Miss Pechey to share her thoughts on the practical outcome of the case. Poor little Hope Scholar! She had come a long way since the time she wouldn’t “appeal” because she was too busy listening to the nightingales.

“Edinburgh, July 13th.

Sir,—I see that a juryman has written to you to say how very ill the recent decision as to the costs agrees with the intentions of the jury, and a lawyer has made clear how extraordinary it is in point 318of law. Will you allow me to say a few words, from personal experience, on the practical results?

Dude,—I've noticed that a juror has reached out to you to express how poorly the recent decision regarding costs aligns with the jury's intentions, and a lawyer has pointed out how unusual it is legally. Can I share a few thoughts from my own experience about the practical outcomes? 318

The medical students of Edinburgh have received a hint by which some of them seem well inclined to profit. They have been told pretty plainly that it is possible that there should be a riot got up for the express purpose of insulting women, for one of the very women insulted to be accused of libel when she complains of such conduct, and then for the insulters to escape scot-free, and the complainer to be mulcted in expenses. In fact the moral seems to be that, unless a woman is willing to be saddled with costs to the amount of several hundred pounds, she had better resolve to submit to every kind of insult, without even allowing herself to mention the facts.

The medical students in Edinburgh have gotten a clear warning that some of them appear eager to take to heart. They've been told quite directly that a riot could be organized specifically to insult women, where one of the women being targeted could end up being accused of libel for speaking out about such behavior, while the perpetrators walk away unpunished and the woman ends up facing hefty legal bills. Basically, the message seems to be that unless a woman is prepared to take on costs running into the hundreds of pounds, she should just choose to tolerate any kind of insult without even mentioning what happened.

I say that some of the students appear to have taken the hint so given; for to this I must think is due the treatment received by myself and some of my friends if we happen to meet students on our way home in the evening. It will possibly strike some people as sufficiently extraordinary that a knot of young men should find pleasure in following a woman through the streets, and should take advantage of her being alone to shout after her all the foulest epithets in their voluminous vocabulary of abuse; yet such is the case. I am quite aware that it would be useless to represent to those students the injury they do to the University and to the medical profession in the eyes of the public, because neither of these considerations would weigh with them for a moment; but it may make some impression on them to be told that the effect of their conduct is really such as they would least desire. Dr. Christison is reported to have said during his examination in Court, that he considered the riot of November to be ‘a great misfortune,’ and from his point of view he was undoubtedly right. If the wish of these students is to bar our progress, and frighten us from the prosecution of the work we have taken in hand, I venture to say never was a greater mistake made. Each fresh insult is an additional incentive to finish the work begun. I began the study of medicine merely from personal motives; now I am also impelled by the desire to remove women from the care of such young ruffians. I am quite aware that respectable students will say, and say truly, that these are the dregs of the profession, and that they will never take a high place as respectable practitioners. Such is doubtless the case; but what then? Simply that, instead of having the medical charge of ladies with rich husbands and fathers, to whom, from self-interest, they would be respectful, they will have the treatment of unprotected servants and shop-girls. I should be very sorry to see any poor girl under the care (!) of such men as those, for instance, who the other night followed me through the street, using medical terms 319to make the disgusting purport of their language more intelligible to me. When a man can put his scientific knowledge to such degraded use, it seems to me he cannot sink much lower.

I think some of the students have taken the hint that was given; this must be why my friends and I are treated a certain way when we run into students on our way home in the evenings. It might seem shocking to some that a group of young men would find enjoyment in following a woman through the streets, taking the opportunity of her being alone to shout all kinds of nasty names at her; yet that's exactly what happens. I know it would be pointless to explain to those students how their actions reflect poorly on the University and the medical profession in the eyes of the public, because those concerns wouldn't matter to them at all. However, it might make an impact if they were told that their behavior has the opposite effect of what they intend. Dr. Christison reportedly said during his court testimony that he viewed the riot in November as “a great misfortune,” and from his perspective, he was definitely correct. If these students want to hinder our progress and scare us away from the work we're committed to, I would say they couldn't be more mistaken. Each new insult only motivates us further to complete what we've started. I initially chose to study medicine for personal reasons; now I'm also driven by a desire to protect women from being under the care of such young thugs. I understand that respectable students will rightly say these guys are the bottom rung of the profession, and that they'll never earn a respectable place as practitioners. That’s undoubtedly true; but what of it? It simply means that instead of caring for wealthy women with affluent husbands and fathers—men who would ensure they are treated well—they'll end up treating unprotected workers and shop girls. It would genuinely distress me to see any vulnerable girl in the care of men like those who followed me the other night, using medical jargon to make their disgusting comments clearer to me. When a man can misuse his scientific knowledge like that, it seems to me he can't fall much lower.

How far the recent decisions are calculated to arrest or discourage such conduct, I leave the public to judge.—I am, etc.

How effective the recent decisions are at stopping or discouraging such behavior, I leave it to the public to decide.—I am, etc.

Mary Edith Pechey.”

One is glad to note that the Lancet now took fire:

One is happy to see that the Lancet is now gaining attention:

“Common candour must compel any unprejudiced person to admit that the fight has been pursued by the orthodox party per fas et nefas, and that the ill-advised conduct of grave and learned seniors in the profession has offered only too plausible an excuse to the heated blood of younger partisans to indulge in coarse excesses.”

“Honestly, anyone who isn’t biased has to recognize that the traditional party has fought hard, using any means necessary, and that the misguided actions of serious and knowledgeable older professionals have given a convincing reason for the passionate younger supporters to act out in rough ways.”

It would be wrong to make too much of this ebullition of wickedness from the hearts of “ill-led” boys; but we must not forget that the women were scarcely more than girls, unable to view these things as calmly as we view them now; and all these experiences went to make them the thing they became.

It would be wrong to overemphasize this burst of evil from the hearts of “ill-led” boys; however, we must remember that the women were barely more than girls, unable to see these situations as calmly as we do today; and all these experiences contributed to shaping who they became.

For the iron entered into their souls.

Thirty years later one of their number—a married woman and a physician of standing—was heard to say that on her occasional visits to Edinburgh, she would make a détour of miles rather than pass the gates of Surgeons’ Hall.

Thirty years later, one of them—a married woman and a respected doctor—was heard saying that during her occasional trips to Edinburgh, she would go out of her way for miles rather than pass by the gates of Surgeons’ Hall.

“Would you really?” said S. J.-B.

"Would you really?" said S. J.-B.

320

CHAPTER X
SOME FRIENDSHIPS AND HOLIDAYS

Of course S. J.-B. was not allowed to pay one penny of her expenses. The amount was subscribed, and more than subscribed, by sympathizers all over the United Kingdom in the course of a few weeks; and her brother’s cheque was duly returned. It would almost seem as if nothing had done so much to excite public interest and fellow-feeling as that unfortunate speech and the lawsuit to which it led. The very names of those who undertook to receive subscriptions gave a striking indication of the challenge of popular sympathy.^[83]

Of course, S. J.-B. couldn’t pay a single penny of her expenses. The amount was raised, and even exceeded, by supporters all over the UK in just a few weeks; her brother’s check was promptly returned. It almost seemed like nothing stirred public interest and empathy as much as that unfortunate speech and the lawsuit that followed. The very names of those who collected donations were a clear sign of the public’s willingness to help.^[83]

There was no lack of criticism and condemnation, of course; the move and countermove went on; but hundreds of letters poured in, bearing witness, not only to the width, but to the depth, of the feeling called forth. Miss Frances Power Cobbe’s impulsive beginning,—“I want words to express my indignation,—” was typical of many. Harriet Martineau, too, was a subscriber and a cordial sympathizer.^[84]

There was certainly no shortage of criticism and condemnation; the back-and-forth continued. However, hundreds of letters flooded in, showing not just the extent but also the intensity of the emotions stirred up. Miss Frances Power Cobbe’s passionate start—“I want words to express my outrage—” was representative of many. Harriet Martineau was also a supporter and a strong ally.^[84]

A number of subscriptions were returned after the full amount was raised, and many people expressed their disappointment 321at hearing of the fund only through the announcement that it was closed. “I wish it would open again,” wrote the Revd. Professor Charteris, “even if it were only a little chink.”

A number of subscriptions were returned after the full amount was raised, and many people expressed their disappointment 321 at hearing about the fund only through the announcement that it was closed. “I wish it would open again,” wrote the Rev. Professor Charteris, “even if it were just a small amount.”

Here are two very different letters that one is glad to put on record:

Here are two very different letters that it's nice to have on record:

“Inverness, Aug. 3/71.

Dear Miss Stevenson,^[85]

Dear Ms. Stevenson, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__

Assuredly no man could calmly read Miss Jex-Blake’s case, out of or in Court. And, could I do so publicly, I would cast from me with loathing all my once valued connexions with the Edinr. Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons; to show my utter disgust at (with a few honourable exceptions) their unmanly brutal conduct towards Miss Blake and her friends.

Surely no one could read about Miss Jex-Blake’s case, in or out of Court, without feeling something. If I could speak about it openly, I would distance myself with disgust from all my previously respected connections with the Edinburgh Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, to express my complete disapproval of (with a few notable exceptions) their unmanly and brutal behavior towards Miss Blake and her supporters.

On the 9th (D.V.) I shall be in Edinburgh, when I shall call for or write to you. On that day, I hope to get some help from absent friends to add to the mite of

On the 9th (D.V.) I'll be in Edinburgh, and I'll reach out to you either in person or through a message. On that day, I hope to get some assistance from friends who aren't present to contribute to the little bit of

Yours faithfully,

Dr. J. Mackenzie”

“33 Richmond Place,

Edinburgh, 24th Aug. 1871.

Madam,

Ma'am,

I beg to enclose a P.O.O. for eight shillings. This small sum is subscribed by a few working men in aid of the fund for defraying the Law expences so unjustly thrust upon Miss Jex-Blake for simply speaking the truth in her own defence in a Straightforward Manner. They deeply sympathise with this lady in the noble strugglestruggle she is making for Womens right to a liberal education and remunerative employment. May she be of good cheer, of good courage, and continue steadfast unto the end.

I’m enclosing a P.O.O. for eight shillings. This small amount has been contributed by a few working men to help cover the legal expenses that Miss Jex-Blake has unjustly faced for simply defending herself honestly. They feel a deep sympathy for her in the noble strugglestruggle she is undertaking for women's right to a quality education and fair employment. May she stay positive, courageous, and remain steadfast until the end.

I am, Madam,
Your obedient Servant,
James Gray.

P.S. If this subscription be advertised please put it, A few working men—8s. It is payable at the Nicholson Street Post Office.

P.S. If this subscription is advertised, please list it as a few working men—8s. It can be paid at the Nicholson Street Post Office.

Miss A. M‘Laren.”

Miss A. M'Laren.

322There was almost always an element of comic relief, too, about these tragic and moving situations. The following letter was one of those which provided it in this case:

322There was usually a bit of comic relief in these tragic and emotional situations. The letter below was one of those that added humor in this case:

“58 Altom Street,

Blackburn, 15 Aug./71.

Miss Jex-Blake,

Miss Jex-Blake

Dear Madam,

Dear Ma'am,

Although a complete stranger to you I have long been familiar with your name, and also with your efforts to open the Edinburgh University to Ladies. I understand that you have been in America, you will therefore be familiar with many of the Colleges and Universities there. My wife who is in full practice here has studied Medicine in the Hygeio-Therapeutic Medical College and has obtained her M.D. Degree from the same College. As I am able to influence the Degree of M.D. to either Ladies or Gentlemen who are able to satisfy me as to their fitness to practise Medicine, I thought I would communicate with you, as probably an American degree would answer your purpose until it is possible to procure one from an English or Scotch University.

Although we’ve never met, I’ve known your name for a long time, along with your efforts to admit women to Edinburgh University. I understand you’ve been to America, so you’re likely familiar with many of the colleges and universities there. My wife, who is currently practicing here, studied medicine at the Hygio-Therapeutic Medical College and earned her M.D. degree from the same place. Since I have the authority to grant the M.D. degree to either women or men who prove themselves capable of practicing medicine, I thought I would reach out to you, as an American degree might serve your needs until you can obtain one from an English or Scottish university.

After all, it is not the degree but the ability of a Medical practitioner that should be appreciated....”

After all, it's not the degree but the skill of a medical practitioner that should be valued....”

Truly: but the law has something to say about the signing of death certificates, the registration of lunatics, the recovery of fees, and other incidental details. More strawberry jam labels!

Truly, the law addresses the signing of death certificates, the registration of mentally ill individuals, the collection of fees, and other related details. More strawberry jam labels!

The cheque, for over £1000, was presented to S. J.-B. at a public meeting, when there was a large gathering of influential citizens, the faithful Lord Provost occupying the chair. When all expenses were fully paid, a balance remained of over £100, which S. J.-B. asked leave to add to an already existing “nest-egg” for the purpose of founding a future hospital for women officered by women.

The check, for over £1000, was presented to S. J.-B. at a public meeting attended by a large crowd of influential citizens, with the dependable Lord Provost in charge. After all expenses were covered, there was a leftover balance of over £100, which S. J.-B. requested to add to an existing “nest egg” to help establish a future hospital for women run by women.

The immediate struggle with the University was not made any easier, however, though the “Cause” was gaining ground by strides all over the rest of the world. The Scotsman continued to give a wholesome lead to the press: indeed no woman gained scholastic or other honours anywhere without having her name and achievement duly registered with an implicit Verb. sap. at the end of the paragraph.

The immediate struggle with the university wasn't made any easier, even though the "Cause" was making significant progress all over the world. The Scotsman continued to set a positive example for the press: in fact, no woman earned academic or other honors anywhere without having her name and achievement properly noted with an implicit Verb. sap. at the end of the paragraph.

One is glad to record, too, that one or two delightful holidays relieved the strain of this year’s work. Mrs. Thorne was 323proving herself a most valuable representative, not comparably so well versed as S. J.-B. in all the minutiae of the conflict, but certainly less exacting and easier to work with.

It's great to note that a couple of wonderful vacations helped ease the pressure from this year's work. Mrs. Thorne was proving to be a very valuable representative, not quite as knowledgeable as S. J.-B. in all the details of the situation, but definitely less demanding and easier to collaborate with.

Considering the stem from which she sprang—a Tory family of landed gentry—S. J.-B. as prophetess had a surprising amount of honour in her own house. Her conservative old friend, Lady Waldegrave, had written a quite touching letter of appreciation in April of this year; and her Norfolk uncle and aunt, the Revd. Thomas and Mrs. Gunton actually subscribed to the cause and allowed their names to be put on her Committee, though Mrs. Gunton had postponed reading the papers bearing on the subject for some time, from fear that she and her husband would be constrained to refuse.

Considering her background—a Tory family of landed gentry—S. J.-B. held a surprising amount of respect as a prophetess in her own home. Her conservative old friend, Lady Waldegrave, wrote a quite touching letter of appreciation in April of this year; and her uncle and aunt from Norfolk, the Rev. Thomas and Mrs. Gunton, actually supported the cause and allowed their names to be added to her Committee, even though Mrs. Gunton had delayed reading the relevant papers for some time, fearing that she and her husband would feel obliged to decline.

“How ANY WOMAN can have a desire for the Medical Profession is indeed WONDERFUL,” she writes, “but of course only very talented ones could go through the stiff examinations that are required.”

“How ANY WOMAN can want to join the Medical Profession is really AWESOME,” she writes, “but of course only the most skilled ones could pass the tough exams that are needed.”

She remarks too, with complacence, that men doctors will be kept up to the mark when they have to compete against women.

She also comments, with satisfaction, that male doctors will stay on their game when they have to compete with women.

In some remote part of Norfolk, Mrs. Jex-Blake gave her name in a shop, whereupon “a lady stepped forward and said what good work you were doing, but, if we were English, we must think very ill of the Scotch. I said No, you had received far more kindness than unkindness, having had a great many real and warm friends.”

In a remote area of Norfolk, Mrs. Jex-Blake signed her name in a shop, at which point “a lady stepped forward and said how good your work was, but that if we were English, we must think poorly of the Scotch. I replied that no, you had received far more kindness than unkindness, having had many genuine and warm friends.”

This incident leads one to note that the present year, 1871, saw the ripening into lifelong friendship of S. J.-B.’s acquaintance with Miss Agnes M‘Laren, daughter of the Member for Edinburgh,—a lady who adds one more to the gallery of truly noble women with whom we are brought into contact when reviewing S. J.-B.’s life. At the time of “the Edinburgh Fight,” Miss M‘Laren was engaged in Suffrage work with Miss Taylour, acting as Hon. Secretary to the Association (with no paid subordinate to do the drudgery), travelling on occasion all over Scotland in serious propagation of her principles.^[86] She was perhaps the most public-spirited 324member of a public-spirited family, for the reason that in her the strong purpose, shrewd judgment and liberal sympathies that characterized all, were combined with an instinctive aloofness and even shyness, with a spirit almost of quietism, with a real old-world grace of womanhood.

This incident reminds us that in the year 1871, S. J.-B.’s relationship with Miss Agnes M‘Laren, daughter of the Member for Edinburgh, matured into a lifelong friendship. She is yet another addition to the remarkable women we encounter when reflecting on S. J.-B.’s life. At the time of “the Edinburgh Fight,” Miss M‘Laren was involved in Suffrage work alongside Miss Taylour, serving as the Honorary Secretary to the Association (with no paid staff to handle the menial tasks), occasionally traveling throughout Scotland to promote her ideals. She was possibly the most community-minded member of a socially conscious family, as she combined a strong sense of purpose, sharp judgment, and generous sympathies with an instinctive reserve and even shyness, embodying a spirit of quietude along with the timeless elegance of womanhood.^[86] 324

She was hailed with something like reverence by the work-worn, hard-driven students at 15 Buccleuch Place, and almost from the first they spoke of her among themselves as “St. Agnes,” a name to which she characteristically took exception as soon as it reached her ears.

She was greeted with something like admiration by the exhausted, hardworking students at 15 Buccleuch Place, and almost immediately they referred to her among themselves as “St. Agnes,” a name that she typically objected to as soon as she heard it.

“Dear Miss M‘Laren,” writes S. J.-B. in this connection,—

“Dear Miss M'Laren,” writes S. J.-B. in this context,—

“You can’t seriously suppose that anybody in this house,—least of all that I,—should really laugh at you!—though I don’t doubt that you are a great deal too humble-minded to understand in the least the sort of light in which most of us working women do regard you. However we’ll keep our pet name for you to ourselves if you don’t like it.”

“You can’t actually think that anyone in this house—especially me—would really laugh at you! Although I’m sure you’re way too humble to grasp how most of us working women actually see you. But we’ll keep our little nickname for you to ourselves if you don’t like it.”

And again a few weeks later:

And again, a few weeks later:

“15 Buccleuch Place,

Edinburgh. June 7th.

Dear Miss M‘Laren,

Dear Miss M'Laren,

Though we all miss you here almost daily, I am unselfish enough to be heartily glad that you are going to Germany. I am sure the change of air and scene must do you good, and the chestnut trees at Heidelberg must be simply lovely now.

Though we all miss you here almost every day, I'm selfless enough to be really happy that you're going to Germany. I’m sure the change of scenery and fresh air will be good for you, and the chestnut trees in Heidelberg must be absolutely beautiful right now.

When you get to the top and sit and look down at the valley of the Neckar, you may picture me (as a lonely English teacher at Mannheim) going over there on Sundays to church, and climbing to that brow to enjoy the setting sun and the infinite peacefulness and beauty of the whole scene.

When you reach the top and sit down to look at the valley of the Neckar, you might imagine me (as a solitary English teacher in Mannheim) going there on Sundays for church, climbing up to that spot to enjoy the sunset and the endless tranquility and beauty of the entire scene.

I only wish I could be there with you!—If you stay at all at Mannheim, do go and see my old school, the ‘Grossherzogliches Institut’—I think they will still remember my name there,—and I should like so much to hear news of them. They would be electrified to hear of me as a doctor.

I really wish I could be there with you! If you end up staying in Mannheim, definitely visit my old school, the Grand Ducal Institute. I think they’ll still remember me there, and I would love to hear any updates about them. They would be thrilled to know that I’m a doctor now.

I finished up by having scarlet fever there, and shocked them all by refusing to submit to the stupid old German regimen of starvation and shut windows!...

I wrapped things up by getting scarlet fever while I was there, and shocked everyone by refusing to go along with the dumb old German rules of starvation and closed windows!...

325I do most heartily wish you a pleasant journey and great rest and refreshment in it. Do you know that when I got your letter such a longing came over me to see the Rhine again that for a moment I almost thought of asking if you would take me with you, but five minutes reflection showed me how wrong and foolish it would be for me to leave home just now in the midst of term, and with these ‘appeals’ still undecided, and with my petition to the Senatus coming on! But it was a huge temptation all the same!”

325I truly wish you a wonderful journey and lots of rest and relaxation during it. Did you know that when I received your letter, I felt such a strong desire to see the Rhine again that for a moment, I almost thought about asking you to take me with you? But after five minutes of thinking, I realized how wrong and foolish it would be for me to leave home right now in the middle of the semester, with these 'appeals' still unresolved, and my petition to the Senate coming up! But it really was a tempting thought all the same!”

This brings us back to the diary:

This takes us back to the diary:

“Monday June 5th. The trial over at last. ‘Farthing damages’ satisfactory, I suppose.

“Monday June 5th. The trial is finally over. ‘Farthing damages’ are satisfactory, I guess.

But I so weary! If I could but get a month’s real rest! I wake feeling driven,—I get through nothing all day, and I lie down tired out at night.

But I'm so tired! If I could just get a month's real rest! I wake up feeling worn out—I can't get anything done all day, and I collapse at night completely exhausted.

Wednesday, June 7th. Sur ces entrefaites (as my present neighbours would say) came a letter from St. Agnes saying she was to go to Heidelberg on Saturday for three weeks. Instantly—Why shouldn’t I go with her, quoth the Infantine.

Wednesday, June 7th. In the meantime (as my current neighbors would say), I received a letter from St. Agnes saying she was going to Heidelberg on Saturday for three weeks. Right away—Why shouldn’t I go with her, said the Infantine.

Fifty reasons, quoth the Estimable,—law, money, study, Senatus, etc., etc.

Fifty reasons, said the Esteemed—law, money, studies, the Senate, etc., etc.

Telling Pussy ^[87] of the temptation overcome, came a proposal to ‘treat Resolution,’ urged by her, E.P., and even Mrs. Thorne.

Telling Pussy ^[87] about the temptation that was overcome, there was a suggestion to 'celebrate Resolution,' encouraged by her, E.P., and even Mrs. Thorne.

Millar [lawyer] said I could be spared.

Millar, my lawyer, said I could be let off.

So Thursday went to London with L. and F. Stevenson,... Good journey. Slept at Hampstead.

So on Thursday, I went to London with L. and F. Stevenson. It was a good trip. We stayed overnight in Hampstead.

Sunday 11th. Morning Stopford Brooke, St. James Chapel, York Street. Stood till sermon, then pulpit stairs....

Sunday 11th. Morning Stopford Brooke, St. James Chapel, York Street. Stayed until the sermon, then pulpit stairs....

It might almost have been predicted that S. J.-B. would not pass through Paris in a time of peace. The visit was destined to prove exciting enough. She just dashes down a few polyglot jottings in her diary to serve as stepping-stones for memory later on:

It could have been expected that S. J.-B. wouldn’t travel through Paris during a peaceful time. The visit was bound to be thrilling enough. She quickly scribbles a few mixed-language notes in her diary to help jog her memory later on:

Tuesday 13th. Reached Paris about 6.30. No cabs, no apparent chance of any. At length in streets 2-seated fiacre, drove to [Hotel] Folkestone, was deposited, C. M‘L.^[88] returning for others.

Tuesday 13th. Arrived in Paris around 6:30. No taxis in sight, and no chance of finding one. Finally, I found a two-seater fiacre on the streets and headed to [Hotel] Folkestone, where I was dropped off, C. M‘L.^[88] going back for the others.

Friday 16th. Writing all above (from 7th. onwards) by open window of Hotel F.—rain falling on market outside. They not back from Versailles, where gone in hope of hearing Assemblé, etc.

Friday 16th. Writing everything above (from the 7th onward) by the open window of Hotel F.—rain falling on the market outside. They haven't returned from Versailles, where they went hoping to hear the Assembly, etc.

326Wednesday. After long trudge found ‘voiture de grande remise’ 4 frs. the hour, drove by Luxembourg, Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle, etc. (Not allowed to lift written scrap from street from heap of ruins by side of Palais de Justice.) Great order and quiet everywhere and civility.

326Wednesday. After a long walk, I found a “luxury car service” for 4 francs an hour. I drove past Luxembourg, Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle, etc. (I wasn't allowed to pick up a written note from the pile of rubble next to the Palais de Justice.) There was great order and calm everywhere, as well as politeness.

Pantheon dinted with ‘obus’. Hotel de Ville gutted, (with all registers, etc.)—Tuileries, and Palais de Justice Ditto. Ministère de Finances even more utterly in ruins, and houses here and there,—e.g. in Rue Royale by Madeleine and elsewhere.

Pantheon damaged with ‘obus’. Hotel de Ville vandalized, (with all records, etc.)—Tuileries and Palais de Justice the same. Ministry of Finance even more completely destroyed, along with houses in various locations—such as on Rue Royale by Madeleine and other areas.

Hotel de Clugny incendie but unhurt. All along streets notice holes to cellars stopped up with plaster for fear of petroleum.

Hotel de Clugny was on fire but remained unharmed. All along the streets, there are notice holes to the cellars sealed up with plaster for fear of petroleum.

Thursday. Drove by Champs Elysées, to Champ de Mars, Porte de Neuilly (where such destruction from bombs, etc., vault of railway crashed in,—trees in splinters, etc.) Then by Quaies, into Place de Carrousel between Tuileries and Louvre to Bastille Column and (through bad parts of town ...) to Père la Chaise, with its horrible trenches filled with hundreds of bodies and soaked black with petroleum (clothes, etc., burnt over them?).

Thursday. Drove by the Champs Elysées to the Champ de Mars, Porte de Neuilly (where there was such destruction from bombs, etc., the railway vault had collapsed—trees were in splinters, etc.) Then by the quays, into the Place de Carrousel between the Tuileries and the Louvre to the Bastille Column and (through the rougher parts of town...) to Père la Chaise, with its terrible trenches filled with hundreds of bodies soaked black with petroleum (were their clothes burnt over them?).

Then that ghastly corner where 250 and 140 (‘4, 5 femmes,’) were shot ‘en pleine vigueur’ crying ‘Vive la République!’ as a keen young fossier told with evident sympathy, he having had to stand by,—see the firing, and bury the results.

Then that awful spot where 250 and 140 (‘4, 5 women’) were shot 'in the heat of the moment' shouting ‘Long live the Republic!’ as a sharp young officer recounted with clear sympathy, having had to watch the shooting and then bury the aftermath.

Today Friday, 16th. The Petit Moniteur gives a horrible circular (torn down last night in the Rue Rochechouard) inciting ‘Travailleurs from every country to join against priests, soldiers and tyrants, and succeed, or nous nous ensevelirons sous les ruines de Paris!’

Today is Friday, the 16th. The Petit Moniteur has published a shocking circular (torn down last night in Rue Rochechouard) urging ‘Workers from all countries to unite against priests, soldiers, and tyrants, and succeed, or We will bury ourselves under the ruins of Paris!’

Fancy crying for fresh bloodshed when steeped in it to the lips now!

Fancy crying for fresh bloodshed when you're already drowning in it!

Some Frenchwomen at table curiously indignant at our small care about English ‘communists’,—quite unable to understand how the solidarity of national sentiment made such as these late events impossible in England, and then, when I mildly said so, shooting at me:—‘Pourtant, la Révolution où on a tué votre roi!’!!”

Some French women at the table were surprisingly outraged by our lack of concern for English "communists," completely unable to understand how national pride made such recent events impossible in England. Then, when I said this gently, they shot back at me:—"But the Revolution where they killed your king!"!!”

“Monday 20th. Went to Versailles to see the Chambre;—unpunctual sitting, I only present during some minutes of debate. Given ticket in ‘D’ by President Grévy.

“Monday 20th. Went to Versailles to see the Chamber;—started late, I was only there for a few minutes of the debate. Given a ticket in ‘D’ by President Grévy.

6.30. Left Paris via Dieppe. 8 hours roughish sea.

6.30. Left Paris through Dieppe. 8 hours of choppy seas.

Tuesday. Brighton.”

Tuesday. Brighton.

So there was no Heidelberg after all,—no sitting on the brow of the hill to look down on the valley of the Neckar, and recall ces jours heureux où nous étions si misérables. We are not told why S.J.-B.’s holiday was cut so short: perhaps railway communication was broken for the moment, and it 327proved impossible to proceed: but in any case it may be that the intense and unexpected picture of carnage and strife served to take her more completely out of herself and her worries than the more peaceful experience she would have chosen.

So there was no Heidelberg after all—no sitting on the top of the hill to look down at the Neckar Valley and remember those happy days when we were so unhappy. We're not told why S.J.-B.'s holiday was cut short: maybe the train service was disrupted for a while, and it 327became impossible to continue. But in any case, it's possible that the intense and unexpected scenes of violence and conflict helped her escape her worries more completely than the calmer experience she would have preferred.

Moreover a real holiday was in store that Autumn, a holiday brightened by a visit from Dr. Lucy Sewall. How much this meant to her one gathers from the following letter, written about this date:

Moreover, a real holiday was coming that autumn, a holiday made brighter by a visit from Dr. Lucy Sewall. You can tell how much this meant to her from the following letter, written around this time:

“My Darling,

"My Love,"

I am so sorry for your loss of poor little Scamper,—I have got a splendid big ‘Collie’ for you here,—the handsomest I ever saw,—if you can take him back with you. If, that is, you must go back; but, oh, Lucy, I do so wish you would stay with us here for a few years.

I’m really sorry for your loss of poor little Scamper. I have an amazing big Collie here for you—the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen—if you can take him back with you. That is, if you really must go back; but oh, Lucy, I really wish you would stay with us here for a few years.

People are getting wild for women doctors here,—and you might make almost any income, and do quite incalculable good by living here for the next five years.

People are really excited about female doctors here, and you could earn a great income while doing an incredible amount of good by living here for the next five years.

We have eleven women studying here now, and absolutely no one to give them [adequate] uterine teaching!

We have eleven women studying here now, and absolutely no one to provide them with proper instruction about their reproductive health!

This morning I had a quite spontaneous offer of £200 to help found a Women’s Hospital here, and I believe that in a week I could get ten times that amount promised.

This morning, I received a spontaneous offer of £200 to help establish a Women’s Hospital here, and I believe that within a week, I could secure ten times that amount.

You should organize everything exactly as you liked, and, republican wretch as you are, you would be a sort of Queen among us,—and, what you would care for much more, would do quite infinite good to everybody concerned,—ladies, poor women, students, and all.

You should arrange everything just the way you like, and, as a republican person, you would be like a sort of Queen among us—and, what you would care about even more, you would do a tremendous amount of good for everyone involved—ladies, underprivileged women, students, and all.

However, you shan’t be bothered or worried. I think the strongest argument of all will be when you see for yourself how sorely we need you.

However, you shouldn’t be bothered or worried. I think the strongest argument of all will be when you see for yourself how much we really need you.

I shall not make any definite plans for you till after you come. If you like to stay quietly in Scotland all the time, we will do so, or I will go with you to Zurich or Paris or anywhere you like.... Send me early word of the steamer by which you expect to come, and, if at all possible, I will meet you at Liverpool....

I won't make any solid plans for you until after you arrive. If you'd prefer to stay in Scotland the whole time, we can do that, or I can go with you to Zurich or Paris or wherever you want.... Let me know early which ship you expect to take, and if it’s possible, I’ll meet you in Liverpool....

I send you another copy of my Suffrage speech, and hope you have received the newspapers about the trial.

I’m sending you another copy of my Suffrage speech and hope you’ve received the newspapers about the trial.

Your very aff.

S. L. J.-B.

Turk has put on mourning for Scamper,—crape round his left arm, as they do in the army. He evidently quite understands, for he doesn’t try to get it off....”

Turk is wearing black for Scamper—black cloth around his left arm, like they do in the military. He clearly gets it, since he doesn't try to take it off...

328The reader will not need to be told that S. J.-B. went out on the tender to meet her friend at Liverpool,—“after awful rush previous day with Surgeons’ Hall, leader, etc.”

328The reader doesn’t need to be told that S. J.-B. took the tender to meet her friend in Liverpool—“after a crazy rush the day before with Surgeons’ Hall, the leader, etc.”

Dr. Sewall’s choice of a holiday, happily, was a quiet time, mainly in Perthshire; but, straight from Liverpool, the two fellow-workers went to Shipley to see Mrs. Unwin, whose health had been failing for some time.

Dr. Sewall chose a peaceful holiday, mostly in Perthshire; however, right after leaving Liverpool, the two colleagues went to Shipley to visit Mrs. Unwin, whose health had been declining for a while.

The friendship between S. J.-B. and her fellow student had never flagged. S. J.-B. had paid repeated visits to the Yorkshire home, where husband and wife vied with each other in the warmth of their welcome, and where both had proved most loyal advocates and upholders of the new Cause. More than once when a petition was being got ready for Parliament on the subject of the medical education of women, Mrs. Unwin had proved herself a keen and successful canvasser for signatures in her neighbourhood, throwing into the scale that weight of personal popularity which is so important a factor in the achievement of any aim. She had even paid a visit to the beehive at 15 Buccleuch Place, to be made much of by the workers, and to be not a little impressed by the sight of such divers and strenuous activities.

The friendship between S. J.-B. and her fellow student had never wavered. S. J.-B. frequently visited the Yorkshire home, where the couple competed to make her feel welcome, and both had been strong supporters of the new Cause. More than once, when a petition was being prepared for Parliament regarding the medical education of women, Mrs. Unwin had shown herself to be an enthusiastic and effective canvasser for signatures in her area, bringing her personal popularity to bear, which is such an important element in achieving any goal. She even visited the beehive at 15 Buccleuch Place, where she was warmly received by the workers and was quite impressed by the variety and intensity of their activities.

And now she was ill, and S. J.-B. was perfectly sure that, if anyone could bring healing, it was “the little doctor.”

And now she was sick, and S. J.-B. was completely convinced that, if anyone could bring healing, it was “the little doctor.”

Fresh courage they brought indeed, a little fresh lease of life in which the sufferer recovered strength and proved a renewed source of comfort to husband and children before she was called hence out of their sight; but healing in this world was not to be. Dis aliter visum.

They really did bring fresh courage, giving the sufferer a bit of renewed life in which she regained her strength and became a comforting presence for her husband and children before she was taken from them; but healing in this world was not meant to be. Dis aliter visum.

In other respects the holiday was a refreshing one. It included attendance at a meeting of the British Association—great joy for Dr. Sewall—and a stay at an old Perthshire farmhouse, which, to many other attractions in S. J.-B.’s eyes, added the crowning one of a ghost,—a ghost which was visible to the dogs, and abundantly audible to herself and Miss Du Pre, though it failed subsequently to make any impression on the representatives of the Society for Psychical Research.

In other ways, the holiday was a refreshing experience. It involved attending a meeting of the British Association—much to Dr. Sewall's delight—and a stay at an old farmhouse in Perthshire, which, along with many other attractions for S. J.-B., included the ultimate feature of a ghost—a ghost that was visible to the dogs and very audible to her and Miss Du Pre, although it ultimately made no impression on the representatives of the Society for Psychical Research.

From the farmhouse as a centre they made delightful 329excursions, the germ of many subsequent driving-tours in Perthshire, and it was on this occasion that the roadside inn at Fortingal was discovered, with its restful surroundings, cosy interior, and omelettes that constituted a positive object in life to the healthy holiday-maker!

From the farmhouse as a hub, they went on enjoyable trips that sparked many future road trips in Perthshire. It was during this time that they found the charming inn at Fortingal, with its relaxing atmosphere, comfy interior, and omelets that became a must-have for the health-conscious vacationer!

After a farewell visit to Mrs. Unwin, Dr. Sewall sailed for Boston in September, parting from S. J.-B. on the tender at Liverpool. Her “log” was a lengthy one, full of wise observations and reflection, and every word of it was written for S. J.-B....

After saying goodbye to Mrs. Unwin, Dr. Sewall set sail for Boston in September, saying farewell to S. J.-B. on the small boat at Liverpool. Her “log” was quite long, filled with insightful thoughts and reflections, and every word of it was meant for S. J.-B....

“My dear one,

“My love,

... I have been thinking last night that if you and I could ever practise together, we ought to do better than either alone, for you have many qualities in which I am wanting. I think if we were together, you would write a valuable book, and so give the world a higher idea of women doctors. I know I shall never succeed in writing a good book by myself.

... I was thinking last night that if we could ever collaborate, we’d do better together than alone, since you have many qualities I lack. I believe that if we worked together, you would write an important book, which would help improve the perception of women doctors. I realize I will never be able to write a good book on my own.

It hardly seems worth while to make you read all my fancies, but it seems to bring you nearer to me while I am writing, and the days are so long and lonely here.”

It hardly seems worth your time to read all my thoughts, but it helps me feel closer to you while I write, and the days are so long and lonely here.

“When I lie awake nights and think of you wanting me to help you in Edinburgh, it seems to me as if I must break off from all my ties, and come back to you at once; but then my New England conscience wakes up and tells me that my life must be duty and not pleasure, and I try to be contented with doing the work that God gives me, and trust that when I am really at work it will be all right.

“When I lie awake at night and think about you wanting me to help you in Edinburgh, it feels like I have to cut all my ties and come back to you right away; but then my New England conscience kicks in and reminds me that my life should be about duty, not pleasure. I try to find contentment in doing the work that God has given me and trust that once I’m truly at work, everything will be fine.”

I do hope that you are having a nice quiet time with Miss Du Pre, and getting rested.”

I really hope you're having a nice, relaxing time with Miss Du Pre and getting some rest.

“It is just a week now since I said Goodbye to you, but it seems almost like a month to me. Last night for the first time since I left, I dreamed of having patients instead of dreaming of you.”

“It’s only been a week since I said goodbye to you, but it feels like almost a month to me. Last night, for the first time since I left, I dreamed about having patients instead of dreaming about you.”

330

CHAPTER XI
THE QUESTION OF PROFESSIONAL EXAMINATION

Apart from the ghost—which was a pure joy, though a very exciting one—S. J.-B.’s holiday was broken in upon by very disturbing rumours.

Aside from the ghost—which was a total delight, though quite thrilling—S. J.-B.'s vacation was interrupted by some really unsettling rumors.

It was whispered by some of those who might have been supposed to know, that—notwithstanding the paragraphs that still stood in the University Calendar (see p. 260)—an effort would be made to prevent any new women candidates from undergoing the Preliminary Examination, and from matriculating. Worse than this, it was hinted that a similar effort would be made to prevent the women who had been studying for that express purpose for two years, from presenting themselves for the First Professional Examination.

It was rumored by some who were thought to be in the know that—despite the sections still present in the University Calendar (see p. 260)—there would be an attempt to block any new female candidates from taking the Preliminary Examination and enrolling. Even more concerning, it was suggested that a similar effort would be made to stop the women who had been preparing for that specific goal for two years from taking the First Professional Examination.

There were positive difficulties apart from these vague rumours. In a previous chapter we saw that the President of the Royal College of Physicians and the President of the Royal College of Surgeons had refused to preside at the prize-giving “if lady students were to be present and to receive their prizes on that occasion.” This announcement was followed by a decision on the part of the lecturers at Surgeons’ Hall “to rescind the permission given last summer to those lecturers who desired to admit ladies to their classes,”—“it being, however, understood that the prohibition should not extend to the instructions by Dr. Keiller [in Midwifery] and others, of women who were not registered students of medicine.”

There were some positive challenges besides these vague rumors. In a previous chapter, we noted that the President of the Royal College of Physicians and the President of the Royal College of Surgeons had declined to preside over the prize-giving “if female students were to be present and receive their prizes on that occasion.” This announcement was followed by a decision from the lecturers at Surgeons’ Hall “to take back the permission given last summer to those lecturers who wanted to allow women in their classes,”—“it being understood, however, that the ban would not apply to the instruction by Dr. Keiller [in Midwifery] and others, for women who were not registered medical students.”

It was still open to the women, of course, to get Extra-Mural lecturers to teach them elsewhere, if rooms could be found and the necessary arrangements made; but, as regarded 331the original students, an automatic deadlock arose at this point of which certain Professors unhappily elected to avail themselves:

It was still possible for the women to hire Extra-Mural lecturers to teach them elsewhere, if they could find rooms and make the necessary arrangements; however, for the original students, an automatic deadlock occurred at this point, which certain Professors unfortunately chose to take advantage of:

By the rules of the University only four classes might be taken from Extra-Mural (non-professorial) teachers, and the original students had already taken these four. Professor Christison’s class was one of those that came next in turn, and it would, perhaps, have been expecting too much of human nature that he should have chosen this moment in which to lay down his arms. In any case, he refused point blank.

According to the university's rules, students could only take four classes from non-professorial teachers, and the original students had already completed those four classes. Professor Christison’s class was one of the next options available, but it might have been too much to expect him to choose this moment to back down. In any case, he refused outright.

In this dilemma, the women appealed to the Senatus,—(1) to appoint special University lecturers (assistants to the Professors or others) whose payment the women would guarantee; or (2) alternatively, to relax, in the case of the women, the ordinary regulations, so that they might take an increased number of Extra-Mural classes.

In this dilemma, the women appealed to the Senate,—(1) to appoint special university lecturers (assistants to the professors or others) whose payment the women would guarantee; or (2) alternatively, to relax, in the case of the women, the usual regulations, so that they could take an increased number of extra-mural classes.

Counsel’s opinion was taken by the Senatus as to the powers of the University in this respect, and, an opinion adverse to the wishes of the women having been received, the Senatus decided by a majority of one to take no action in the matter.

Counsel's opinion was sought by the Senate regarding the University's powers in this matter, and since an opinion that opposed the women's wishes was received, the Senate decided by a majority of one not to take any action.

Promptly S. J.-B. and her Committee submitted the facts to other counsel (the Lord Advocate and Sheriff Fraser) and received the opinion (1) that it was quite competent to the University authorities to make any necessary provision for the completion of the ladies’ education: and (2) that the Medical Faculty were bound to admit the ladies to professional examination on the subjects in which they were already qualified to pass.

Promptly, S. J.-B. and her Committee shared the details with other legal advisors (the Lord Advocate and Sheriff Fraser) and received their feedback: (1) that the University authorities had the right to make any necessary arrangements for the completion of the women's education; and (2) that the Medical Faculty was obligated to allow the women to take the professional examination in the subjects for which they were already qualified.

This latter point was included with special reference to the incredible rumours referred to above.

This latter point was included specifically because of the unbelievable rumors mentioned earlier.

As the day of the examinations drew near and nothing happened, the leaders among the women began to feel reassured. The following letters, however, show how well-founded their fears were:

As the exam day approached and nothing occurred, the leaders among the women started to feel more at ease. However, the following letters reveal how justified their concerns were:

“Private.

“Private.”

Oct. 2. 71.

My dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I shall be at the Senatus any day you like, unless prevented by something of which I have no present prospect.

I can be at the Senate any day you choose, unless something unexpected comes up that I can’t foresee right now.

I was glad to hear, from my wife, ... that Mr. Fraser has given 332you a favourable opinion. His view that the Professors are bound to teach all persons who present Matriculation tickets to them, is what I have always held, and I believe often expressed to you. In the same way I should say, they are bound to examine them. What you must do now, then, I fancy, is to present your Mat: tickets and class fees and demand class tickets, and present your Certificates, etc., and demand Examination, and, on either or both being refused, claim a legal remedy. If possible you ought to go to the Court of Session and not to the University Court; and to the 2nd Division, if you have to go beyond the Lord Ordinary. Moncrieff will be much influenced by Fraser’s opinion, whereas Inglis will be influenced, if at all, in the wrong direction. As Chancellor, however, I should think he would himself decline to sit as a Judge in a case which may come before him in the former capacity.

I was glad to hear from my wife that Mr. Fraser has given you a positive opinion. His belief that the Professors are required to teach anyone who presents Matriculation tickets to them is something I've always believed and, I think, often mentioned to you. Similarly, I believe they are required to examine those individuals. What you need to do now, I think, is to present your Matriculation tickets and class fees and request class tickets, and also present your Certificates, etc., and request an examination, and if either or both are denied, seek a legal remedy. If possible, you should go to the Court of Session and not to the University Court; and to the 2nd Division if you need to go beyond the Lord Ordinary. Moncrieff will be significantly influenced by Fraser’s opinion, while Inglis will likely be influenced, if at all, in the wrong direction. However, as Chancellor, I would think he would decline to act as a Judge in a case that may come before him in that earlier role.

With kind regards from Mrs. Lorimer, believe me,

With warm regards from Mrs. Lorimer, trust me,

Yours very truly,

J. Lorimer.”

“16 Charlotte Square,
Edinburgh.
Friday, Oct. 13th. 1871.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

... I should very much like to see the legal opinion you have obtained upon the point of legal responsibility as incurred by the University Court in their pragmatic sanction of the lady students matriculating and passing their preliminary examination.

... I would really like to see the legal opinion you got on the issue of legal responsibility that the University Court took on with their practical decision regarding the female students enrolling and passing their preliminary exams.

A legal opinion depends so entirely upon the manner in which the matter is laid before counsel, and usually leaves so many loopholes for escape unperceived by a non-professional eye, that I am always jealous of such opinions unless the interpretation thereof is given by someone of good common sense and legal experience....

A legal opinion relies heavily on how the issue is presented to the lawyer, and it often leaves a lot of escape routes that might be unnoticed by someone without legal training. Because of this, I am always wary of such opinions unless their interpretation is provided by someone with solid common sense and legal experience.

I shall be at home tomorrow (Saturday) evening at 7.40 p.m. when it will give me the greatest pleasure to see you, if that will suit your convenience.

I’ll be home tomorrow (Saturday) evening at 7:40 p.m. It would make me really happy to see you if that works for you.

Is it true that Mrs. de Lacy Evans is engaged to Mr. Russel of the Scotsman?!!!

Is it true that Mrs. de Lacy Evans is engaged to Mr. Russel from the Scotsman?!!!

Most faithfully yours,

Patrick Heron Watson.”

Here is a significant little letter, too, from the Secretary to the University:

Here’s an important little letter, too, from the University Secretary:

“Inveresk. Oct. 13.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

I have instructed Mr. Gilbert ^[89] to receive the money [for the First Professional Examn.] and give the customary acknowledgments, so that you may be all right with the Dean.

I have instructed Mr. Gilbert ^[89] to collect the money [for the First Professional Examn.] and provide the usual acknowledgments, so that you are good to go with the Dean.

333I am bound to call a meeting of Senatus upon a requisition signed by 3 Professors. Secure a day likely to suit your friends. Saturday is not a good day generally, and on Friday 2 or 3 are coming down here to dine,—at least they are asked to do so.

333 I have to call a meeting of the Senate if 3 professors sign a request. Choose a day that works for your friends. Saturday is usually not a good choice, and on Friday, 2 or 3 of them are coming here for dinner—at least that's what they've been invited to do.

How would Thursday or Monday do?

How about Thursday or Monday?

Yours truly,

John Wilson.”

That afternoon, we are told, there was a “furious row” in the Medical Faculty, and a day or two later each of the women candidates for the First Professional Examination received a copy of the following letter:

That afternoon, we are informed, there was an "angry dispute" in the Medical Faculty, and a day or two later, each of the female candidates for the First Professional Examination received a copy of the following letter:

“University of Edinburgh,

October 14th, 1871.

Madam,

Ma'am,

I am instructed by the Medical Faculty to inform you that your name and your fees have been received in error by the Clerk of the University as a candidate for the first professional examination during the present month, but that the Faculty cannot receive you for such examination without the sanction of the Senatus Academicus.

I’ve been directed by the Medical Faculty to let you know that your name and fees were mistakenly received by the University Clerk as a candidate for the first professional exam this month. However, the Faculty cannot accept you for this exam without approval from the Senatus Academicus.

I am, Madam,
Your obedient servant,
J.H. Balfour,
Dean of the Medical Faculty.”

Two days later S. J.-B. received the following letter with reference to the Preliminary Examination:

Two days later, S. J.-B. received the following letter regarding the Preliminary Examination:

“University of Edinburgh, Oct. 16. 1871.

Madam,

Ma'am,

I am desired by the Dean of the Medical Faculty to inform you that he has been interdicted by the Faculty from giving examination papers to ladies on the 17th and 18th curt.

I have been asked by the Dean of the Medical Faculty to inform you that he has been prohibited by the Faculty from giving exam papers to women on the 17th and 18th of this month.

Kindly communicate this fact to the ladies whose names you some time ago handed in to me for this examination.

Please let the ladies whose names you gave me for this examination know about this.

I am, etc.,

Thomas Gilbert.”

It will be noticed that the letter was dated on the day previous to that on which the examination was to take place. Three ladies had come—or were on their way—from various parts of the kingdom to submit to it. If they were not allowed to enter, they would be thrown back in their professionalprofessional studies for a whole year.

It’s clear that the letter was dated the day before the exam was supposed to happen. Three women had traveled—or were on their way—from different parts of the country to take it. If they weren’t allowed to enter, they would be set back in their professionalprofessional studies for an entire year.

334Most women—and men—would have sat down under this blow. S. J.-B. went straight to her solicitor and took him with her to see the advocate (Mr. Fraser). The following is a copy of the letter that was sent by them to the Dean of the Medical Faculty:

334Most women—and men—would have given up after this setback. S. J.-B. went directly to her lawyer and brought him along to meet with the advocate (Mr. Fraser). The following is a copy of the letter they sent to the Dean of the Medical Faculty:

“Chambers, 8 Bank Street,

Edinburgh. Oct. 16th. 1871.

Dear Sir,

We have been instructed to obtain the opinion of counsel with reference to the legality of your refusal to admit ladies to the Preliminary Examination in Arts, which will take place tomorrow.

We’ve been told to get a legal opinion regarding the legality of your refusal to allow women to take the Preliminary Examination in Arts, which is happening tomorrow.

We beg now to enclose the memorial submitted, and the opinion given thereon by Mr. Patrick Fraser, for your perusal, and request that you will, at your earliest convenience, return them to us.

We now enclose the memorial submitted and the opinion provided by Mr. Patrick Fraser for your review, and we ask that you return them to us at your earliest convenience.

We beg to point out that you are individually responsible if the refusal is persisted in, and that we have been instructed, in that case, to raise actions for damages against you at the instance of each of the memorialists. You will also observe that the instructions of the Medical Faculty, being in themselves illegal, will be no defence against such actions.

We want to emphasize that you are personally accountable if you continue to refuse, and we have been instructed to file lawsuits for damages against you from each of the complainants. You'll also notice that the Medical Faculty's instructions, being illegal, will not be a valid defense against these lawsuits.

We trust that you will, in these circumstances, reconsider the matter, and see fit to retract the refusal, and prevent the necessity of further proceedings.

We hope you will reconsider the situation and decide to reverse your refusal, avoiding the need for any further actions.

We are, etc.,

Millar, Allardice & Robson, W.S.

Professor Balfour, M.D.,

Dean of the Medical Faculty.”

There was no loss of time in receiving the reply:

There was no delay in getting the response:

“University of Edinburgh, Oct. 16th., 1871.^[90]

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Miss Jex-Blake

I have received the legal notice from your solicitor. Under these circumstances I shall not take the responsibility of refusing the ladies admission to the preliminary examination as heretofore. But I must inform you that I admit them provisionally until the matter is decided by the proper authorities, and without prejudice as regards myself.

I have received the legal notice from your lawyer. Given these circumstances, I will no longer take responsibility for denying the ladies admission to the preliminary examination as I have in the past. However, I must let you know that I will admit them provisionally until the matter is resolved by the appropriate authorities, and this is without prejudice regarding myself.

I am, etc.,

J.H. Balfour.”

So the ladies were duly examined in the ordinary course.

So the ladies were properly examined as usual.

335On applying for Matriculation tickets, however, they were informed by the clerk that the Principal of the University had written him word that, in consequence of representations made to him by Professor Christison, no ladies were at present to be allowed to matriculate. “Of course,” said a friendly professor, “the Principal had no more authority to issue this decree than had the janitor.”

335When applying for Matriculation tickets, they were told by the clerk that the Principal of the University had informed him that, due to concerns raised by Professor Christison, no women were currently allowed to matriculate. “Of course,” said a supportive professor, “the Principal had no more right to make this decision than the janitor did.”

In this case, fortunately, there was time to call a meetingmeeting of Senatus, as referred to by Professor Wilson above (letter of October 13), and the necessary requisition was signed by Professors Crum Brown, Tait, and Liston.

In this case, luckily, there was time to call a meetingmeeting of the Senate, as mentioned by Professor Wilson earlier (letter of October 13), and the necessary request was signed by Professors Crum Brown, Tait, and Liston.

[Diary.] “Tuesday 17th. Preliminary examination all right,—Mundy, Dahms, and Miller. Dr. Alex. Wood takes Motion in General Council.

[Diary.] “Tuesday 17th. Initial examination went well,—Mundy, Dahms, and Miller. Dr. Alex. Wood presents Motion in General Council.

Thursday, 19th. Leader written yesterday, in proof today. I, oh, so tired! Settled about motions in Senatus. Med. Fac. want Lord Advocate’s opinion,—seem shaking in their shoes.

Thursday, 19th. Leader written yesterday, in proof today. I’m so tired! Worked on motions in the Senate. Medical Faculty wants the Lord Advocate’s opinion—seems like they’re a bit nervous.

Ah, we will win,—but the price!”

Ah, we will win—at a cost!”

Poor little Despotic Emperor! Where was her Sackermena?

“It may be that the gulphs will bear us down,

It may be we shall reach the happy isles....”

“How these worries must increase the difficulties of study in the case of each one of you;” wrote a faithful friend, the Dowager Countess of Buchan, next day. “But then the certainty of success somehow, as the dear Newman used to say, when he meant that there were benedictions in the air; and that you will surely have worked out the greatest possible benefit for womankind for all generations, even if hostilities are prolonged, must be a support now and an abundant recompense, I hope, for all your toils when they are happily concluded.”

“How these worries must increase the difficulties of study for each of you,” wrote a loyal friend, the Dowager Countess of Buchan, the next day. “But then the certainty of success somehow, as dear Newman used to say when he meant that there were blessings in the air; and that you will undoubtedly have achieved the greatest possible benefit for women for all generations, even if challenges continue, must be a comfort now and a plentiful reward, I hope, for all your efforts when they are successfully wrapped up.”

About the same time another “honourable woman” was writing:

About the same time, another "honorable woman" was writing:

“Sir,

I venture to trouble you with a post office Order for £2,—payable from me to yourself,—as my small contribution to the Fund needed by the General Committee for securing a Complete Medical Education for Women in Edinburgh.

I’m reaching out to send you a postal order for £2, payable from me to you, as my small contribution to the fund needed by the General Committee for ensuring a complete medical education for women in Edinburgh.

The question is so important, and the Lady-students have manifested so fine a spirit and temper under the harassing trials, that 336a large proportion of their countrymen will, I trust, feel the obligation of sustaining them during their conflict with jealousies and prejudices which will scarcely be credited by a future generation.

The question is really important, and the female students have shown such a great attitude and resilience through the tough challenges that I hope a large number of their fellow countrymen will feel the need to support them during their struggle against jealousy and prejudice that future generations will hardly believe.

Permit me to offer you my thanks for the service you render to a good cause by managing the financial concerns of the movement, and believe me, Sir, with much respect.

Thank you for the important work you do in managing the financial aspects of the movement. I greatly appreciate your service to this good cause, and I hold you in high regard.

Yours,

Harriet Martineau.

W. L. Reid, Esq.”

W. L. Reid, Esq.

At the Senatus meeting on Oct. 21st., the question of admitting women to the First Professional Examination was discussed, and the Medical Faculty was instructed to examine them. It is interesting to know that all the candidates passed.

At the Senatus meeting on Oct. 21st, they discussed whether to allow women to take the First Professional Examination, and the Medical Faculty was asked to evaluate them. Interestingly, all the candidates passed.

But S. J.-B. was not one of them. All her strength was being spent in carving out the way.

But S. J.-B. wasn’t one of them. All her energy was going into finding a way forward.

It was matter for congratulation, of course, that the schemes of the enemy had been foiled; but the friends of the women in the University were now more anxious than ever to raise the whole question on to a level above these harassing obstacles. At a meeting of the University Council Dr. Alexander Wood moved that “the University is bound in honour and justice to render it possible for these women who have already commenced their studies, to complete them.”

It was definitely a reason to celebrate that the enemy's plans had been thwarted; however, the supporters of the women at the University were now more eager than ever to elevate the entire issue above these frustrating obstacles. At a meeting of the University Council, Dr. Alexander Wood proposed that “the University is obligated, both in honor and fairness, to make it possible for these women, who have already started their studies, to finish them.”

“This,” said the Lancet, “is precisely the ground we have always taken up about the matter; and we hope the General Council of the University will, by the adoption of Dr. Alexander Wood’s motion, put an end to the controversy which has redounded so little to the credit of that school.”

“This,” said the Lancet, “is exactly the position we have always held regarding this issue; and we hope the General Council of the University will, by adopting Dr. Alexander Wood’s motion, resolve the controversy that has done so little for the reputation of that school.”

Dr. Wood made a brave and telling little speech, and was ably seconded by Mr. Alexander Nicolson. In moving the amendment, Professor Turner, with great shrewdness, quoted S. J.-B.’s letter to the Dean of the Medical Faculty of two years before (see p. 235), a letter which, at a superficial glance, looked like the weakest point in her case—the letter in which she had signified her willingness “to withdraw my application altogether if, after due and sufficient trial, it should be found impracticable to grant me a continuance of the favour which I now request”; and of course no one present knew enough of the facts to reply. It was 337only after Dr. Wood’s motion had been lost by 107 votes to 97, that S. J.-B. had an opportunity of pointing out—in the hospitable columns of the Scotsman—that the letter quoted had reference only to the tentative proposal that she, alone and without matriculation, should attend Professor Balfour’s and Professor Allman’s summer courses. This proposal the University had refused, “deferring the whole question till a permanent plan could be arranged and formally sanctioned by all the necessary authorities,—which was finally accomplished after eight months of consideration and delay.”

Dr. Wood gave a brave and impactful speech, strongly supported by Mr. Alexander Nicolson. While proposing the amendment, Professor Turner cleverly quoted a letter S. J.-B. had sent to the Dean of the Medical Faculty two years earlier (see p. 235). At first glance, this letter seemed like the weakest part of her argument—it stated that she was willing to "withdraw my application altogether if, after due and sufficient trial, it should be found impracticable to grant me a continuance of the favor that I now request." Naturally, no one present knew enough about the facts to respond. It was only after Dr. Wood’s motion was defeated by 107 votes to 97 that S. J.-B. had the chance to clarify—in the welcoming pages of the Scotsman—that the quoted letter only referred to the initial proposal for her to attend Professor Balfour’s and Professor Allman’s summer courses without formal enrollment. This proposal had been rejected by the University, which decided to postpone the entire matter until a permanent plan could be developed and officially approved by all necessary authorities—a process that ultimately took eight months of consideration and delays.

This is one instance—out of hundreds—of S. J.-B.’s extraordinary ability to refute statements that looked true, that might have been true, that were nearly true,—by a precise quotation of facts. It was an ability that made for her more enemies than friends as life went on. Let it be noted, too, that, but for the generosity of the press, she never could have corrected such statements at all.

This is one example—out of hundreds—of S. J.-B.’s amazing ability to challenge statements that appeared true, that could have been true, that were almost true,—by accurately quoting facts. This talent earned her more enemies than friends as time went on. It's also worth mentioning that, without the support of the press, she would never have been able to correct such statements at all.

“To sum up the whole matter in one word,” she wrote, “I will venture to say, that, instead of the daily trials of the past two years and the apparent deadlock at which we have now arrived, we should have found nothing but smooth paths for our feet, and no difficulties from either students or professors, had Dr. Christison but kept to the promise he voluntarily made to me at the close of my single interview—of two minutes—with him 2 years ago—‘I shall vote against you, but I shall take no measures to oppose you.’”

“To sum up everything in one word,” she wrote, “I’d say that, instead of the daily challenges of the past two years and the apparent standstill we're facing now, we would have encountered nothing but clear roads ahead and no issues from either students or professors, if Dr. Christison had simply stuck to the promise he made to me during our brief two-minute meeting two years ago—‘I will vote against you, but I won’t take any steps to oppose you.’”

Once more the Lancet made dignified protest:

Once again, the Lancet made a dignified protest:

“The Edinburgh school has come badly out of its imbroglio with the lady students. The motion of Dr. Alexander Wood, to which we made reference last week, was negatived by a majority of ten. As we then pointed out, the issue before the General Council was neither more nor less than this,—to keep faith with the female students whom the University had allowed to proceed two years in their medical curriculum. The Council was not asked to commit itself in the slightest degree to any opinion, favourable or unfavourable, to the admission of ladies to a medical career. It had only to concede, in common courtesy, not to say common fairness, the right to which the best legal advice had clearly shown the female students to be entitled,—the right to carry on the studies they had been allowed to prosecute half way towards graduation. Will it be 338believed? An amendment postponing the settlement of the difficulty till it had been duly considered by the authorities of the University, was put and carried; as if there was any more room for ‘consideration’ in the matter! Thus Edinburgh stands convicted of having acted unfairly towards seven ladies, whom she first accepted as pupils, and then stopped half-way in their career.”^[91]

“The Edinburgh school has really messed up its situation with the female students. The motion by Dr. Alexander Wood, which we mentioned last week, was rejected by a majority of ten. As we pointed out earlier, the issue before the General Council was simply this—to honor the commitment made to the female students who had been allowed to complete two years of their medical studies. The Council wasn’t being asked to take a definitive stance on whether ladies should be admitted to a medical career. It only needed to acknowledge, out of basic courtesy and fairness, a right that the best legal advice clearly indicated the female students deserved—the right to continue the studies they had already been allowed to pursue halfway to graduation. Can you believe it? An amendment to postpone resolving the issue until it had been properly reviewed by the University authorities was proposed and accepted; as if there was any more room for 'consideration' in the matter! Thus, Edinburgh has been shown to have acted unfairly towards seven ladies, whom it initially accepted as students and then halted in their progress.”338

Move and countermove follow with bewildering rapidity at this time. Within a fortnight Professor Muirhead is urging the Senatus to rescind the regulations for the admission of women to the University, reserving the rights of those already entered; and this is passed by a majority of one,—14 to 13.

Move and countermove happen at a dizzying pace during this time. Within two weeks, Professor Muirhead is pushing the Senatus to cancel the rules allowing women to be admitted to the University, while protecting the rights of those who are already enrolled; this passes by a slim margin—14 to 13.

Eighteen Professors, however, rose up in wrath to protest against this decision, and—as only fifteen, out of a total of thirty-five, could be got to support it,—the regulations of Nov. 1869, were confirmed by the University Court, and everything was left in statu quo!^[92]

Eighteen professors, however, were outraged and protested against this decision, and—since only fifteen out of a total of thirty-five could be found to support it—the regulations from November 1869 were confirmed by the University Court, leaving everything in the current state!^[92]

Meanwhile—in addition to classes for the seniors—arrangements had to be made for the three new students who had entered. It was probably in connection with these that S. J.-B. received the following letter:

“17 Drummond Place,

December 23rd. /71.

Dear Madam,

Dear Ma'am,

As you will probably be aware before you receive this, I have been utterly unsuccessful in my attempts to bring my Colleague to my own way of looking at the matter in question.

As you probably know before you get this, I've completely failed in my efforts to convince my colleague to see things my way regarding the matter at hand.

I may mention to you that my own impression, derived from various conversations with several of the most prominent of your opponents, is that they would have but little objection to give you, or at least to make arrangements for giving you, the instruction you seek—provided it were sought as a favor and not claimed as 339a right—in other words I think many of them are anxious to avoid making what might be called a precedent. This I give you confidentially and merely as an impression, but I have little doubt of its being at least nearly a correct one.

I should let you know that, based on various conversations I've had with some of your most notable opponents, they wouldn't mind giving you the instruction you want—or at least arranging for it—as long as it's requested as a favor and not demanded as a right. In other words, I think many of them want to avoid setting what could be considered a precedent. I'm sharing this with you in confidence and simply as my impression, but I have little doubt that it's at least mostly accurate.

Believe me, dear Madam,
Yours truly,
P. G. Tait.”

This was the letter of a wise man, and it might, perhaps, have been better for the cause in the immediate future if S. J.-B. had acted on the advice it contained. Her reply is not forthcoming, but we know quite well that she was not prepared to run the risk involved in acting on the advice. Two women had already secured registration “by a postern gate,” and that was not her aim. She longed—no one more—to write M.D. after her name; but she would, as a matter of course, have foregone that right forever, if, by so doing, she could have opened the gate for all.

This was the letter from a wise person, and it might have been better for the cause in the near future if S. J.-B. had followed the advice it offered. Her response isn't available, but we know she wasn’t willing to take the risks that came with acting on the advice. Two women had already managed to register “through a backdoor,” which wasn’t her goal. She really wanted—more than anyone—to have M.D. behind her name, but she would have willingly given up that right forever if it meant she could open the door for everyone else.

340

CHAPTER XII
THE ROYAL INFIRMARY

A year previously to the date we have reached, Robert Louis Stevenson had written in a letter to his cousin:

A year before the date we've arrived at, Robert Louis Stevenson wrote in a letter to his cousin:

“You will probably know how nicely woman’s rights were received by some of my fellow students the other day. The female medicals were hooted, hissed and jostled till the police interfered. My views are very neutral. I quite believe that Miss Jex-Blake and the rest of our fellow studentesses are the first of a noble army, pioneers, Columbuses and all that sort of thing. But at the same time, Miss Jex-Blake is playing for the esteem of posterity. Soit, I give her posterity, but I won’t marry either her, or her fellows. Let posterity marry them. If posterity gets hold of this letter I shall probably be burnt in effigy by some Royal Female College of Surgeons of the future.”

"You probably heard about how well my fellow students received women's rights the other day. The female medical students were heckled, booed, and pushed around until the police had to step in. I have pretty neutral views on it. I genuinely believe that Miss Jex-Blake and the other women in our class are the first of a noble group, pioneers, trailblazers, and all that. But at the same time, Miss Jex-Blake is aiming for the respect of future generations. Fine, I’ll give her that, but I won’t marry her or any of her peers. Let future generations take care of that. If future generations get their hands on this letter, I’ll probably end up being burned in effigy by some Royal Female College of Surgeons down the line."

It was many years before this letter was brought to S. J.-B.’s notice, and when it was, she received it with a hearty laugh of genuine appreciation. She enjoyed R. L. S. much more than he enjoyed her, but she had never had the smallest wish to marry him!

It was many years before this letter came to S. J.-B.’s attention, and when it did, she responded with a big laugh of genuine appreciation. She liked R. L. S. a lot more than he liked her, but she had never had the slightest desire to marry him!

He was entirely wrong, moreover, in the assumption that the women students would have to wait for posterity to marry them. This very autumn of 1871—to the profound sorrow and discomfiture of many upholders of the movement—saw the engagement of no less than three of them. Mrs. Evans’ engagement has been already noted in a letter from Dr. Patrick Heron Watson. In a characteristic passage, we learn how the news of it came to S. J.-B.’s ears:

He was completely wrong, and on top of that, in thinking that the women students would have to wait for future generations to marry them. This very autumn of 1871—much to the deep sadness and embarrassment of many supporters of the movement—saw three of them get engaged. Mrs. Evans’ engagement has already been mentioned in a letter from Dr. Patrick Heron Watson. In a typical passage, we find out how the news reached S. J.-B.:

“After my business over with R., I rose to go.

“After I was done with R., I got up to leave."

‘Oh, sit down a minute. So your class is thinning?’ [Miss Anderson had been married a month before].

‘Oh, sit down for a minute. So your class is getting smaller?’ [Miss Anderson had been married a month before].

341‘Yes,’ quoth I dolorously. ‘We’ve lost one.’

341“Yeah,” I replied sadly. “We’ve lost one.”

‘And I hear you’re going to lose another!’

‘And I hear you’re going to lose another one!’

‘Oh, no,’ protestingly. ‘I hope not.’

‘Oh, no,’ they said in protest. ‘I really hope not.’

‘But I think so.’

"But I believe that."

‘Do you? Well, have you heard who?’

‘Mrs. Evans.’

'Ms. Evans.'

‘Oh, no,—I don’t believe it.’

‘Oh no, I can’t believe it.’

‘Well, she told me so herself.’

‘Well, she said that to me herself.’

‘Did she?—and who on earth to?’

‘Did she?—and who even cares?’

R. got red up to top of bald crown. ‘Have you no idea?’

R. turned red all the way to the top of his bald head. “Do you have no idea?”

‘No,’ (a fib by this time).

‘No,’ (a lie at this point).

‘Really no idea?’

'No idea at all?'

‘How should I?’

"How am I supposed to?"

‘Well,—she asked me to tell you about it,—does that give you an idea?’

‘Mr. R.!—you don’t mean to say it’s you?’

‘Mr. R.!—you can’t be serious, it’s you?’

Great redness, and ‘Yes, I do.’

Great redness, and "Yes, I do."

‘Well!!!—I hope your treachery will go between you and your sleep!’

‘Well!!!—I hope your betrayal will haunt you in your sleep!’

‘Now don’t you be hard upon her! Will you go and see her?’

‘Now don’t be too hard on her! Will you go and see her?’

‘No, certainly not. The most she can expect is that I don’t send a policeman after her.’

‘No, definitely not. The most she can expect is that I won’t send a cop after her.’

‘And brand her with D?’

‘Yes. You may tell her I won’t do that,—and that’s the utmost she can expect!’

‘Yes. You can tell her I’m not going to do that—and that’s the best she can hope for!’

And leaving,—‘Well, I think you’re an uncommonly lucky man, but I hope your conscience will prevent your sleeping!’”sleeping!’”

And as I leave, I say, “Well, I think you're really lucky, but I hope your conscience keeps you from sleeping!sleeping!’”

This was all very well, but the blow was a severe one, especially as Miss Chaplin was married—to Professor Ayrton—a month or two later.

This was all fine, but the news hit hard, especially since Miss Chaplin got married to Professor Ayrton a month or two later.

“I do hope you and Miss Pechey will remain firm to the end,” writes Miss M‘Laren plaintively, “for really three marriages within six months is quite alarming.”

“I really hope you and Miss Pechey stick together until the end,” writes Miss M‘Laren wistfully, “because honestly, three marriages in six months is pretty shocking.”

How many times Miss Pechey was urged to forsake the good fight one cannot even roughly conjecture. Certainly very often.^[93]

How many times Miss Pechey was encouraged to give up the good fight is something no one can really guess. Definitely a lot. ^[93]

342There was no time, however, to weep over fallen comrades. One must just give them decent burial, so to speak, and pass on. From this time forth the work in hand must take a two-fold direction:

342There was no time, though, to mourn for lost friends. One just had to give them a proper burial, so to speak, and move on. From then on, the work at hand had to take two paths:

1. The struggle in Edinburgh must be carried on with unabated energy, as if success were a matter of course.

1. The effort in Edinburgh needs to continue with full energy, as if success is just a given.

2. Every enquiry must be made, with the utmost secrecy and discretion, as to a more hopeful solution of the problem elsewhere.

2. Every inquiry should be conducted with the highest level of secrecy and discretion, looking for a more promising solution to the problem in other places.

The following letters indicate some of the influences at work:

The following letters show some of the influences at play:

“13 Sussex Square,
Brighton.
1. November.

Darling,

Babe,

You must not think I don’t sympathize with you, but I am so vexed and perplexed really I don’t know what to say. I always hope you can see the next step in a clearer and brighter light than I do, and,—you are sure you have my best wishes. I am rather uneasy about you, being sure you must be worn and harassed, and can hardly know what to do next.

You shouldn’t think that I don’t feel for you, but I’m really frustrated and confused, and I don’t know what to say. I always hope you can see the next step more clearly and positively than I do, and—you know you have my best wishes. I’m quite worried about you, knowing you must be exhausted and stressed, and probably don’t know what to do next.

I am very glad the examinations were successfully passed....

I’m really happy that the exams were passed successfully.

Your loving,

M. E. J.-B.”

“Trinity College,
Cambridge,
Oct. 18. 1871.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Miss Jex-Blake

Mr. Sidgwick has shown me in “the Scotsman” a notice to the effect that they are attempting to exclude you from paying the fees at Edinburgh.

Mr. Sidgwick has shown me in "the Scotsman" a notice stating that they are trying to prevent you from paying the fees in Edinburgh.

Are they making a final effort to reject you? Will it be successful? If so, have you any plan of action.

Are they making a last-ditch attempt to reject you? Will it work? If so, do you have any plan of action?

Please let us know, for Mr. Sidgwick and I have been consulting together, and have made up our minds that we will try all that we can now for your admission to this university, and we are ready to 343begin, if you feel that this is your best place to turn to, and if you need it. Let us know then.

Please let us know, because Mr. Sidgwick and I have been discussing this, and we've decided to do everything we can for your admission to this university. We're ready to start if you think this is the best option for you and if you need it. Just let us know.

We feel quite sure of ultimate success here in the matter of full admission of women to the whole benefits of the university.

We are pretty confident that we will ultimately succeed in fully admitting women to all the benefits of the university.

Still we do not know how distant ‘Ultimate’ may be. We are not sanguine of success at present in your cause. Still we think it worth while trying, if it would materially help you.

Still, we don’t know how far away 'Ultimate' really is. We're not optimistic about success right now in your cause. Still, we think it's worth trying if it would really help you.

I am,
Yours truly,
James Stuart.”

So there were very brave people in Cambridge as well as in Edinburgh: for Mr. Stuart as well as Mr. Sidgwick knew all about that unfortunate speech and the lawsuit to which it led. S. J.-B. had scrupulously sent them the records; and, as a matter of fact, Mr. Sidgwick had been one of the many distinguished people who subscribed to the Fund for defraying the expenses of the lawsuit.

So there were really brave people in Cambridge as well as in Edinburgh: because Mr. Stuart and Mr. Sidgwick both knew all about that unfortunate speech and the lawsuit that followed. S. J.-B. had carefully sent them the records; and, in fact, Mr. Sidgwick was one of the many prominent individuals who contributed to the Fund to cover the lawsuit expenses.

If only the struggle had ended here: if only the University had consented to give the women the little ledge they coveted on its precipitous wall: or, failing that, if some young, enlightened university had said, “Come to us!”—the story would be in all ways a pleasanter one to tell. But that is not how things happen in life. Removal to another university at this stage would simply have meant beginning the fight all over again; and Edinburgh—blundering old Edinburgh—was so kind, so homelike, with its great army of friends, many of them convinced that victory lay within sight, that the inducement to stay in spite of all was great. The very next turn of the wheel might revolutionize all things.

If only the struggle had ended here: if only the University had agreed to give the women the small space they wanted on its steep wall: or, if that didn’t happen, if some progressive university had said, “Come join us!”—the story would be much more pleasant to tell. But that's not how things work in real life. Moving to another university at this point would just mean starting the fight all over again; and Edinburgh—clumsy old Edinburgh—was so welcoming, so comforting, with its large group of friends, many of whom believed that victory was within reach, that the temptation to stay despite everything was strong. The very next turn of events could change everything.

Meanwhile the protagonist had been on the strain for nearly three years, and she was growing very weary of the struggle: she was losing a little of the verve that had carried her on hitherto. The incessant canvassing, organizing and writing had developed her inherent business capacity to the last point, and was making her a little intolerant of unbusinesslike ways in other people. It was more difficult than formerly in journalism and in verbal argument to show herself all things to all men as she had done so finely in those first calls on the Professors. But she had not the smallest idea of giving 344in: like a strong man lost in the snow, she was conscious mainly of a resolute determination to keep going on somehow.

Meanwhile, the protagonist had been under strain for nearly three years, and she was getting really tired of the struggle: she was losing some of the energy that had kept her going until now. The endless canvassing, organizing, and writing had pushed her natural business skills to their limits, making her a bit intolerant of unprofessional attitudes in others. It was tougher than before in journalism and in verbal debates to present herself as everything to everyone, as she had done so well during her initial meetings with the Professors. But she had no intention of giving up: like a strong man trapped in the snow, she was mostly aware of a firm determination to keep pushing forward somehow.

“Your cause is sure to win,” Dr. Guthrie said to her about this time; “but a cause may be won at the cost of a life.”

“Your cause is definitely going to win,” Dr. Guthrie told her around this time; “but winning a cause can come at the expense of a life.”

“I know,” she replied, “I am prepared to give it mine.”

“I know,” she replied, “I’m ready to give it my all.”

But she did not mean to die if she could help it until the work was done.

But she didn't plan to die if she could avoid it until the work was finished.

In any case the next move was fairly clear. The Annual Meeting of Contributors to the Royal Infirmary was coming round once more, and again the election turned on the question of the admission of the women to the wards. S. J.-B. went doggedly on with her canvassing, but the outer public was getting a little bored with the whole subject, and she herself had no longer the attraction of freshness and novelty. In those days perseverance was not reckoned a special virtue in a woman, and persistence was a positive vice. She received one nasty snub (conveyed through the office-boy) from one who had been almost a friend, and, in order to understand what this meant to her, we must remember that family tradition was strong in her still. Pelted with peas or pursued by a mud-throwing mob, she never for a moment forgot that she was, in her own way, grande dame. And now she was too tired to brush the little insult off. “I was fool enough to go out with eyes so full of tears that I doubted being fit for my next call.”

In any case, the next move was pretty clear. The Annual Meeting of Contributors to the Royal Infirmary was coming up again, and the election was once more focused on whether to allow women into the wards. S. J.-B. continued her campaigning, but the general public was starting to lose interest in the whole topic, and she herself no longer had the appeal of being new and different. Back then, perseverance wasn’t viewed as a special trait in women, and being persistent was seen as a real flaw. She received one harsh brush-off (delivered through the office boy) from someone who had been nearly a friend, and to understand what this meant to her, we need to remember that her family background was still very important to her. Whether pelted with peas or chased by a mud-throwing crowd, she never forgot that she was, in her own way, great lady. Now, she was too exhausted to shake off the small insult. “I was foolish enough to go out with my eyes so full of tears that I doubted I would be fit for my next appointment.”

But the moral thews and sinews were in fine fighting form, and the ideals of youth were as fresh as ever. The very words of the old inspiring quotations rose to her mind. How surprised the old managers would have been if they had heard them! They thought it was only that weary question of Miss Jex-Blake and the Infirmary.

But the strong beliefs and values were in great shape for a fight, and the ideals of youth were as vibrant as ever. The very words of those inspirational quotes popped into her head. How shocked the old managers would have been if they had heard them! They thought it was just that tired issue of Miss Jex-Blake and the Infirmary.

Kindly folk were many, however, and every now and then she met an unexpected tribute of appreciation or respect; and sufficient votes were gained to make the dreary proceeding worth while.^[94]

Many kind people were around, and now and then she encountered unexpected gestures of appreciation or respect; enough votes were gathered to make the boring process worthwhile.^[94]

345Sometimes she would return from these missions to find herself called out to a slum maternity case undertaken through the mediation of a friendly doctor. Then,—

345Sometimes she would come back from these missions only to get called out to a maternity case in a rundown area, arranged through a doctor she knew. Then,—

“Home after 10 p.m. Then to write leader for Monday. Done about 12.15. Then to relight fire and get warm,—then bed!”

“Home after 10 p.m. Then I wrote the leader for Monday. Finished around 12:15. Then I relit the fire to warm up—then bed!”

“Sunday, [Dec.] 31st. Wrote paragraphs and finished article. Went down to Scotsman Office....

“Sunday, Dec. 31st. I wrote some paragraphs and finished the article. I headed down to the Scotsman Office....

Oh, dear, I hope the things will be in right tomorrow,—and oh, how I hope we may win!

Oh, dear, I hope everything will be okay tomorrow—and oh, how I hope we can win!

We have 296 votes more or less promised. We ought.

We have about 296 votes promised. We should.

Now,—‘ring out the old, ring in the new’—Ah, that it may be so in some things,—‘Ring out the care that frets the mind’^[95]—Ring in quiet and peace and liberty,—‘leave to toil’.”

Now,—‘ring out the old, ring in the new’—Oh, that it may be so in some things,—‘Ring out the worries that trouble the mind’^[95]—Ring in tranquility and peace and freedom,—‘let go of the struggle’.”

Next day the great meeting took place, and this time a large hall had been taken for the purpose.

The next day, the big meeting happened, and this time a large hall was booked for it.

As before, six candidates were proposed by those in power, and six by those in favour of the women. The task of the latter was made easier by the fact that the suggestion of mixed classes had been given up some two or three months before, the Committee for Securing a Complete Medical Education for Women in Edinburgh having undertaken to guarantee the payment of teachers, and to provide suitable rooms and accommodation for the classes, if the University should find this latter an insoluble problem.

As before, six candidates were put forward by those in power, and six by those who supported the women. The task for the latter was easier because the idea of mixed classes had been abandoned about two or three months earlier. The Committee for Securing a Complete Medical Education for Women in Edinburgh had committed to covering the costs of teachers and providing appropriate rooms and facilities for the classes, in case the University found this to be an insurmountable issue.

Professor Christison pointed out incidentally that 80 beds at £40 a bed would be one item in the reckoning.

Professor Christison casually mentioned that 80 beds at £40 each would be one factor to consider.

When the votes were counted there were:

When the votes were tallied, there were:

For the Women,	177
For the Powers,	168

“The result was received with great cheering and waving of handkerchiefs from the ladies’ party.”

The result was met with loud cheers and the waving of handkerchiefs from the ladies' group.

Professor Masson then proceeded to move:

Professor Masson then went on to propose:

“That henceforward all registered students of Medicine shall be admitted to the educational advantages of the Infirmary without distinction of sex,—all details of arrangements, however, being left to the discretion of the managers.”

“From now on, all registered medical students will have access to the educational benefits of the Infirmary without any distinction based on gender, although all specific arrangements will be left to the discretion of the managers.”

346The hostile party raised an objection to this on the ground of want of adequate notice—though Professor Masson had, as a matter of fact, advertised it in the public papers as required—and, through an indescribable hubbub, the proposer stood his ground, ably supported by Professor Calderwood and by Mr. M‘Laren, M.P. When it became clear that they were going to carry their point, the opposing party rose and left the hall almost en masse; and it was then that Dr. Guthrie made what proved to be his last public speech, in support of Professor Masson’s motion. At the close of his peroration, with a wave of his hand towards the door through which the great retreat had taken place, he concluded with the lines S. J.-B. had quoted in her diary the night before,

346The opposing group raised an objection based on lack of adequate notice—although Professor Masson had indeed advertised it in the public papers as required—and, amidst an indescribable uproar, the proposer stood firm, skillfully backed by Professor Calderwood and Mr. M‘Laren, M.P. When it became clear that they were going to win the argument, the opposing group got up and left the hall almost in large numbers; and it was at that moment that Dr. Guthrie gave what turned out to be his last public speech, in support of Professor Masson’s motion. At the end of his speech, with a wave of his hand toward the door through which the large exit had occurred, he concluded with the lines that S. J.-B. had quoted in her diary the night before,

“Ring out the old, ring in the new, ...

Ring out the false, ring in the true!”

The motion was then put to the meeting and carried unanimously.

The motion was then presented to the meeting and passed unanimously.

“I, oh so tired!” says S. J.-B.,—“hearing voices round me in a sort of swoon.”

“I’m just, like, so tired!” says S. J.-B.,—“hearing voices around me in a kind of daze.”

Her letter-bag for the next few days was enough to put new life into anyone.

Her letter bag for the next few days was enough to inspire anyone.

“24 Hill Street,

Edinburgh.

“My dear Miss Blake, and all your brave sisterhood, Three cheers for you and one cheer more! My husband has just come back and told me of your victory.

“My dear Miss Blake, and all your brave sisterhood, three cheers for you and one more! My husband just came back and told me about your victory.

May this be an augury of future success in every direction.

May this be a sign of future success in every way.

Ever very truly yours,

E.H.S. Blackie.”

A lawyer who had strenuously opposed the idea of mixed classes writes,

A lawyer who strongly opposed the idea of mixed classes writes,

“For your sake, I shall make my first charity this year £5 to the Infirmary.”

“For your sake, I will make my first donation this year £5 to the Infirmary.”

And no one was more enthusiastic than the young man who was demonstrator of Anatomy at the time of the riot:

And no one was more excited than the young man who was the Anatomy demonstrator during the riot:

“It would be almost a mockery to wish you all a Happy New Year after such success. It is enough to turn one’s head, but only, I suppose, the heads which hammered on so hard in defeat, or rather repulse, are not to be turned with victory.”

“It would be almost a joke to wish you all a Happy New Year after such success. It's enough to make anyone dizzy, but I guess it's only the people who fought so hard in defeat, or rather rejection, who aren't swayed by victory.”

347It would have been almost a mockery, certainly, though not in the sense he meant.

347It would have almost felt like a joke, definitely, but not in the way he intended.

“Sunday, Jan. 7th. Hear that the doctors are going about getting their patients to sign papers,—exact tenor unknown.”

“Sunday, Jan. 7th. I hear that the doctors are going around getting their patients to sign papers—exact details unknown.”

True enough, here were already the first mutterings of a fresh storm, and indeed, most people must have been rather uneasy at so terrifying a victory.

True enough, there were already the first signs of a new storm, and honestly, most people must have felt pretty uneasy about such a frightening victory.

“Dear Miss Jex-Blake,” writes Dr. Heron Watson on January 5th, “See to it that there is a full representation on behalf of the ladies on Monday week at the adjourned meeting, as I expect foul play!...”

“Dear Miss Jex-Blake,” writes Dr. Heron Watson on January 5th, “Make sure there’s a complete representation of the ladies on Monday week at the rescheduled meeting, as I suspect foul play!”

And another lawyer writes:

And another attorney writes:

“Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I don’t know whether you are taking any means to secure a muster of your friends at the Infirmary meeting on Monday week; but I think it would be worth while to do so. I am afraid our opponents may attempt a surprise for the purpose of rescinding the Statute passed at last meeting as to the admission of Lady Students. I have not heard that they have any such plan on foot; but as no notice requires to be given of any such motion, they may not improbably try it, trusting to our being off our guard.

I’m not sure if you’re getting your friends together for the Infirmary meeting next Monday; but I think it would be a good idea. I’m worried our opponents might try to pull a fast one to overturn the rule we passed last meeting about admitting Lady Students. I haven’t heard of any specific plan, but since no notice has to be given for such a motion, it’s possible they’ll attempt it, hoping we’re not prepared.

Yours truly,

William Robson.”

A fortnight after the Annual Meeting, the Contributors met to hear the result of a scrutiny of the votes, and it was then that the following unexpected issue—quite distinct, of course, from the immediate object of the scrutiny—was thrust upon them:

A couple of weeks after the Annual Meeting, the Contributors got together to hear the results of the vote review, and it was at that point that the following unexpected issue—clearly separate from the main purpose of the review—was presented to them:

On the side of the women had voted,

firms,
ladies,
doctors.

On the side of the powers,

firms,
ladies,
doctors.

It was now claimed that the votes of firms were incompetent, 348at the majority really lay on the other side.

It was now said that the votes of companies were unreliable, 348as the majority actually rested with the other side.

“It mattered nothing,” said the Scotsman,^[96] “that firms had voted ever since the Infirmary was founded; that contributors qualified only as members of firms had, as has now been ascertained, sat over and over again on the Board of Management, and on the Committee of Contributors. It was of equally slight importance that the firms whom it was now sought to disqualify had been among the most generous benefactors of the charity, and that, with the imminent prospect before them of great pecuniary necessity, it would probably be impossible, without their aid, to carry out even the plans for the new building. The firms had voted in favour of the ladies, and the firms must go, if at least the law would (as it probably will not) bear out the medical men in their reckless endeavour to expel them.”

“It didn’t matter,” said the Scotsman,^[96] “that firms had been voting since the Infirmary was established; that contributors who were only members of firms had, as we now know, repeatedly served on the Board of Management and the Committee of Contributors. It was equally insignificant that the firms they were now trying to disqualify had been some of the most generous supporters of the charity, and that, with the serious financial need ahead, it would probably be impossible to execute even the plans for the new building without their help. The firms had voted in favor of the ladies, and the firms must be removed, if at least the law would (which it likely won’t) support the medical professionals in their reckless attempt to kick them out.”

An appeal to law, however, is a slow affair, and on this occasion there was obviously no inducement for the law to bestir itself unduly. It was not till July 23rd that Lord Jerviswoode pronounced the votes of firms to be perfectly valid.

An appeal to the law, however, is a slow process, and in this case, there was clearly no reason for the law to take action hastily. It wasn't until July 23rd that Lord Jerviswoode declared the votes of firms to be completely valid.

The case was appealed to a higher court, where it did not come on for trial till the end of October: it was then again postponed and judgment was not given till December.

The case was appealed to a higher court, where it didn’t go to trial until the end of October; it was then postponed again, and judgment wasn’t delivered until December.

“Dec. 7th. Saturday. Judgment from Second Division in our favour on all points.”

“Dec. 7th. Saturday. The Second Division made a ruling in our favor on all points.”

The Annual Meeting was now once more at hand, however, when new managers might be elected who were unfriendly to the women. Needless to say the woman’s party lost no time. A Contributors’ meeting was called for December 16th, and another for December 23rd, when a vote was passed admitting the women to the Infirmary on condition that their visits were to be separate from those of the men, and that they were to go only to those wards where their presence was invited by the physicians.

The Annual Meeting was coming up again, and new managers could be elected who might not be supportive of the women. Naturally, the women’s party acted quickly. A Contributors’ meeting was scheduled for December 16th, and another for December 23rd, where a vote was passed allowing the women to visit the Infirmary, provided that their visits were separate from the men’s and that they could only go to wards where the doctors requested their presence.

So at last they got their tickets, and began an attendance which was to “qualify” for graduation.

So finally, they got their tickets and started attending classes to "qualify" for graduation.

“Qualify” in the technical sense; assuredly not in any other. What the girl graduate of the present day would 349say to such qualification, one need scarcely ask. Here is S. J.-B.’s account of it:

“Qualify” in the technical sense; definitely not in any other. What the girl graduate of today would say about such qualification, one hardly needs to ask. Here is S. J.-B.’s account of it:

“Dr. Balfour gave us a separate hour in his wards three times a week, and such chances of practical study as could be arranged from time to time. Dr. Watson’s very large practice, as the most eminent surgeon in Scotland, made it impossible for him, at whatever inconvenience, to repeat his visit in this manner, and our enemies would have gained their point, had he not, with a kindness which I find myself even now quite unable to acknowledge duly, given up for the two whole winter sessions his Sunday mornings (his one day of rest) to our instruction, while steadily refusing to accept any fees whatever for this great sacrifice of his time and strength. Few more chivalrous acts were ever done, and I only hope he found his reward in the lifelong gratitude of a dozen women, who were not at that time too much accustomed to such kindness and courtesy as his.”

"Dr. Balfour set aside an hour for us in his wards three times a week, along with any opportunities for practical study that could be arranged from time to time. Dr. Watson, being the leading surgeon in Scotland, had such a busy practice that it was impossible for him to make those visits regularly, no matter how much it inconvenienced him. Our rivals would have accomplished their goal if he hadn’t, with a generosity that I still struggle to fully appreciate, given up his Sunday mornings (his only day off) for two entire winter sessions to teach us, while consistently refusing to take any payment for this significant investment of his time and effort. Few acts of chivalry compare, and I can only hope he found his reward in the lifelong gratitude of a dozen women who, at that time, weren't very used to such kindness and courtesy from someone like him."

To the end of her life, S. J.-B. looked upon these two men as “the shadow of a great rock in a weary land,” and another name she would have added with (in one sense) even better reason—that of Dr. Peel Ritchie, who, a strong Conservative, absolutely and avowedly at that time without sympathy for the “cause,” from a sheer sense of fair play, gave up his class of men at the Royal Dispensary in order to teach a class of women instead.

To the end of her life, S. J.-B. viewed these two men as “a shadow of a great rock in a weary land,” and she would have added another name with even better reason—Dr. Peel Ritchie. He was a strong Conservative, completely and openly unsympathetic to the “cause,” but out of a genuine sense of fairness, he stepped down from his class of men at the Royal Dispensary to teach a class of women instead.

Of course S. J.-B. was a “celebrity” by this time. Here is an amusing letter from a distinguished man who had been asked to meet her and her friends at dinner:

Of course S. J.-B. was a “celebrity” by this time. Here is an amusing letter from a notable person who had been invited to have dinner with her and her friends:

[Letter undated.]

“My dear Editor,

"Dear Editor,"

Wae’s me that I am engaged on Saturday! If I could on any decent pretence get off I would do it aftsoons, for apart from the pleasure of meeting yourself and Mrs. R., I would like fine to meet the other ladies in such company, especially some of them. I won’t say which!

Woe is me that I’m tied up on Saturday! If I could find any reasonable excuse to get out of it, I definitely would. Aside from the enjoyment of seeing you and Mrs. R., I’d really love to meet the other ladies in such good company, especially some of them. I won’t say who!

But I accepted an invitation the other day from —— to meet a Mr. —— a very nice Irishman that’s working at our Celtic MSS., and I promised to show the Milesian the way. So though I would go far for the sake of the ladies and of you, I feel that it would be rather too flagrant a breach of faith to tell old —— that I have another engagement which I had forgotten. I wish he or his wife would take some harmless disease for a day or two and put off their dinner.

But I accepted an invitation the other day from —— to meet a Mr. ——, a really nice Irishman who’s working at our Celtic manuscripts, and I promised to show the Milesian the way. So, even though I would go out of my way for the sake of the ladies and for you, I feel it would be a pretty blatant breach of trust to tell old —— that I have another engagement which I had forgotten. I wish he or his wife would catch some harmless illness for a day or two and postpone their dinner.

350I needn’t say that I appreciate immensely the distinction of being asked as the one man in Edinburgh worthy of admission to that select company! It’s equal to the Cross of the Legion of Honour and a great deal better. There’s something in the idea too that piques the imagination. It’s as if—but far better—a favoured mortal got a special card per Ganymede, to sup quietly in Olympus with Mr. and Mrs. Jupiter and the Misses Minerva, Diana and Urania: or like being asked by a Flamen and his wife to meet three of the Vestal Virgins over a jar of Falernian; or again like an invitation from the grand Lama to have a little jollification with a few Buddhist lady abbesses in the innermost shrine of the great temple at Lassa, or from a chief of Carbonari to take a glass and pipe with Mazzini, Garibaldi, etc. There’s no end of the things it suggests.

350I can't express enough how much I value the honor of being recognized as the only man in Edinburgh deemed worthy of joining that exclusive group! It's on par with the Cross of the Legion of Honour and actually much better. There’s something about the idea that sparks the imagination. It’s as if—though far superior—a favored individual received a special invitation to quietly dine in Olympus with Mr. and Mrs. Jupiter and the Misses Minerva, Diana, and Urania; or like being invited by a Flamen and his wife to meet three Vestal Virgins over a bottle of Falernian; or like an invitation from the grand Lama to celebrate with a few Buddhist lady abbesses in the innermost shrine of the great temple at Lhasa, or from a leader of the Carbonari to have a drink and smoke with Mazzini, Garibaldi, and others. The possibilities are endless.

As to your unworthy fears, fie upon them! You are more to be envied than the Sultan, the Pope or Brigham Young.

About your unworthy fears, shame on them! You’re more to be envied than the Sultan, the Pope, or Brigham Young.

Hoping to have a chance some other time of doing homage to the Trinity, and to have the pleasure soon of calling upon Mrs. Russel.

Hoping to have another opportunity to pay my respects to the Trinity, and to soon enjoy visiting Mrs. Russel.

I rest,
Ever Yours,
——.”

And her fame—or notoriety—extended to the most unexpected classes of society. “Miss Jex-Blake had that house last year,” the driver of a Highland coach would say, pointing with his whip in the direction of the farm where she had stayed. Her name occurred repeatedly in that year’s pantomime, and Harlequin and Columbine had called to ask if she had any objection to this,—an incident which she always recalled with amusement and appreciation. The main reference, as it happened, was quite complimentary. A game was played on the stage in which various Edinburgh dignitaries were the cards; but “Miss Jex-Blake” took the trick.

And her fame—or notoriety—reached the most unexpected social classes. “Miss Jex-Blake had that house last year,” the driver of a Highland coach would say, gesturing with his whip towards the farm where she had stayed. Her name came up multiple times in that year's pantomime, and Harlequin and Columbine had come to ask if she minded, which she always remembered with amusement and appreciation. The main reference, as it turned out, was quite flattering. A game was played on stage where various Edinburgh dignitaries were represented as cards; but “Miss Jex-Blake” won the trick.

Her dislike of publicity was great, but she had long since hardened herself to endure it in so far as was necessary for her work’s sake. Beyond that she drew the line absolutely. The press rang with her name for a few years, but she steadily refused to be interviewed. It was nothing to her that the public had not the smallest idea of the more human side of her character. “Nothing,” she wrote in response to many requests, “would induce her to consent to the sale of her photograph.” Her holidays were spent in absolute retirement, and intimate friends will never forget how, on 351the first day in the country, the words would rise to her lips,—

Her dislike of publicity was significant, but she had toughened herself to handle it as much as necessary for her work. Beyond that, she absolutely drew the line. For a few years, the press buzzed with her name, but she consistently refused to do interviews. It didn’t bother her that the public had no idea about the more personal side of her character. “Nothing,” she wrote in response to many requests, “would persuade her to agree to the sale of her photograph.” She spent her vacations in complete seclusion, and close friends will never forget how, on 351 the first day in the countryside, the words would come to her lips,—

“The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number,

And silent shadows from the trees refreshed him like a slumber.”

A memorandum of this period directs that, in case of her death, the funeral shall be as simple and inexpensive as possible, and that the headstone—if headstone there be—shall bear only her name, the dates, and the words,—“Then are they glad because they be quiet.”

A memo from this time states that, in the event of her death, the funeral should be as simple and affordable as possible, and that the headstone—if there is one—should only include her name, the dates, and the words, “Then are they glad because they be quiet.”

“Partly you see, I am so tired,” she had written half to herself and half to Miss Du Pre in February,—“not physically or even mentally exactly. I could come up to any given exertion of either kind for the time being; but my whole nature is strained and wearied. I can get up energy for nothing,—can but just get through the day’s work in the day and long for rest!

“Partly, you see, I’m really tired,” she had written half to herself and half to Miss Du Pre in February, “not in a physical or even a mental way exactly. I could handle any kind of effort for the time being, but my whole being feels stretched and exhausted. I can’t summon the energy for anything—I can barely get through the day’s work and just long for some rest!”

‘Hades must rest us for ages,

Ere we can glory see.’

No, my glory is rest!...

No, my glory is rest!

How strange lives are! Miss Anderson’s husband—married Oct. 5th (?), died on Monday, November 12th,—love enough to change a life for, and it,—no, not it, the marriage,—ends in 4 months!”

How strange life is! Miss Anderson’s husband—married on October 5th (?), died on Monday, November 12th,—love enough to change a life for, and it,—no, not it, the marriage,—ends in 4 months!”

It was about this time that her friend Mrs. Unwin died. Up to the last she had followed the Edinburgh campaign with intense interest and sympathy. S. J.-B. had promised that, whatever the claims of her work might be, she would pay a last visit to the Yorkshire home in case of “utter need”; but Mrs. Unwin refused to make this plea. Resolutely she bore her own cross: and, with a last message of “deepest love and regard,” she passed away.

It was around this time that her friend Mrs. Unwin passed away. Until the end, she had followed the Edinburgh campaign with great interest and empathy. S. J.-B. had promised that, no matter how demanding her work was, she would make a final visit to the Yorkshire home if there was “utter need”; however, Mrs. Unwin did not want to make that request. Determined, she carried her own burden: and, with a final message of “deepest love and regard,” she left this world.

352

CHAPTER XIII
THE ACTION AGAINST THE SENATUS

“Madam,

“Ma'am,

... I never read or heard of such a hard case as yours—and so peculiar. It might be worth while to seek the advice of a Solicitor—who would consult counsel—to find out whether you and your disappointed friends have no case at Law. I would (if it be possible) just like to know what the Court of Session would have to say, touching—not only the arbitrariness, but the gross injustice, if not absolute illegality, of the whole affair. You matriculate—get through with about half of your classes—great loss of time—money—disappointment—even exasperation or half ruin—all incurred: and are then summarily brought to—made to fairly stick—and yet no legal remedy! I can’t believe it. I would try and find out,—but yet, it is an awful prospect. The length of time, and expense that would have to be borne, ere any decision could be come to. You seem to me like one who took a leap, without seeing from the first,^[97] where the leap was to land you. For surely, had you foreseen all this,—you never would have set foot in Edinburgh....

... I’ve never read or heard of a situation as tough as yours—and so unique. It might be worth it to get some advice from a solicitor—who could consult a lawyer—to see if you and your disappointed friends have any legal grounds. I would (if possible) really like to know what the Court of Session would say about—not just the arbitrariness, but the blatant injustice, if not outright illegality, of the whole thing. You enroll—get through about half of your classes—huge loss of time—money—disappointment—even frustration or near ruin—all on the line: and then you’re abruptly stopped—made to really struggle—and yet there’s no legal recourse! I can’t believe it. I would try to find out, but it’s a grim outlook. The time and cost it would take before any solution could be reached is daunting. You seem like someone who jumped without seeing where you would land first. Surely, if you had known all this would happen, you would have never set foot in Edinburgh....

The tide is coming in and nothing can retard it,—nothing worth speaking of. And these views will be realised and acted upon some day. Depend upon it.

The tide is coming in, and nothing can stop it—nothing worth mentioning. These thoughts will be understood and acted on someday. Count on it.

The day will come when women will sit cheek by jowl with men through a six months’ course of Anatomy, Physiology, Midwifery, etc., etc., right cheerfully, and neither jeering nor sneering there—nor winks nor any other impertinences—singularly misplaced and out of time—if certain important personages could only see matters rightly. Yes, and walk the Hospitals—surgical and medical—and the lying-in Hospital also, the Eye Infirmary, the Cancer one and the Consumptive one, and the Lock into the bargain. And then all these important obstructives will be dead, buried, rotten—forgotten—and their writings selling at three halfpence per lb.”

The day will come when women will sit side by side with men in a six-month course on Anatomy, Physiology, Midwifery, etc., happily and without any mockery or disdain—no winks or any other inappropriate behavior—if certain key figures could just see things clearly. Yes, they will walk through the hospitals—surgical and medical—and the maternity hospital as well, including the Eye Clinic, the Cancer Center, and the Tuberculosis Ward, to top it off. And then all those major obstacles will be dead, buried, gone—forgotten—and their writings will sell for next to nothing.

353The above is quoted from the letter of a complete stranger,—the so-called “man in the street” apparently, and is a sample of many that came pouring in upon S. J.-B. during those troublous years. “Has the University any right to act like this?” friends kept asking constantly; and we know that more than one of the Professors had advised an appeal to a Court of Law.

353The quote above is from the letter of a complete stranger—the so-called “man in the street,” and it's just one of many that flooded in to S. J.-B. during those tumultuous years. “Does the University have any right to do this?” friends kept asking repeatedly, and we know that more than one of the Professors had suggested taking the matter to court.

Towards the close of 1871, S. J.-B. seems to have consulted her brother on the subject, drawing from him the following letters:

Towards the end of 1871, S. J.-B. appears to have talked to her brother about the matter, getting the following letters from him:

“The College,
Cheltenham.
Nov. 18. 1871.

My dear Sophy,

My dear Sophy

I do not think you can gain anything by sueing the Professors or by going to Law with the University in any other shape.

I don't think you can gain anything by suing the professors or by taking legal action against the university in any other way.

It may be too late now to persuade, but it would be at all times hopeless to compel, a great University to open its doors to ladies.

It might be too late now to convince, but it would always be impossible to force a great university to welcome women.

I return the Queries and Opinions: and should distrust legal opinions that advised further law-suits.

I return the Questions and Opinions, and I would be wary of legal advice that suggested pursuing more lawsuits.

It is most provoking, and your treatment has been unjust: but it comes to my mind to this, When they persecute you in one city, flee ye to another.

It’s really frustrating, and you’ve been unfairly treated: but it occurs to me that when they chase you out of one city, you should escape to another.

You can make better use of your time by getting University instruction elsewhere, than by throwing legal pebbles at the University gates of Auld Reekie: and life being short you had better gather up the net result of your Scotch experience, and go to Zürich or Paris, or wherever your own knowledge and judgment lead you.

You can use your time more wisely by seeking university instruction elsewhere instead of just banging on the University gates of Auld Reekie: and since life is short, you should collect the overall outcome of your Scottish experience and head to Zürich or Paris, or wherever your own knowledge and judgment guide you.

I am exceedingly sorry for you; but I see nothing else to be done, so far as I understand the facts.

I really feel for you, but I don’t see any other options based on what I know.

It is very tantalizing that the majorities have always been so narrow: and that there has been so much to justify sanguine friends in their advice.

It’s pretty intriguing that the majorities have always been so close, and that there has been so much to justify optimistic friends in their counsel.

I shall be glad to hear your decision, and both Hetty and I are very sorry for you.

I would love to hear what you've decided, and both Hetty and I really feel for you.

Your affect. brother,

T. W. J.-B.”

“The College,
Cheltenham,
Nov. 21. 1871.

My dear Sophy,

My dear Sophy

There is more to be said for legal action than I knew of: for I thought Paris or Zürich degree was legal qualification in 354England: though of course to go abroad for degree is objectionable in several ways, and the language must slightly increase the difficulties.

There’s more to legal action than I realized: I used to think that a degree from Paris or Zürich was a valid legal qualification in 354 England. Although, going abroad for a degree has its drawbacks in several ways, and the language barrier can make things a bit harder.

Still there is nothing to be said for legal action unless it is likely to succeed: and of that your Scotch lawyers are the best judges: though their expectations hitherto have been more sanguine than accurate in your case.

Still, there's no point in taking legal action unless it's likely to succeed, and your Scottish lawyers are the best judges of that. However, their expectations so far have been more optimistic than accurate in your case.

I am sorry I cannot be of much use, and very sorry the Trades Union is so strong and so well organized.

I'm sorry I can't be of much help, and I'm really sorry the Trades Union is so strong and well-organized.

It must be very annoying, and is certainly a horrible waste of time: but half of most people’s time is spent in untying the foolish knots of blind opponents.

It must be really frustrating, and it's definitely a terrible waste of time: but about half of most people's time is spent trying to untangle the ridiculous knots created by clueless opponents.

Hetty joins in love.

Your affect. brother,

T. W. J.-B.”

“13 Sussex Square,
Brighton.
Jan. 21. 1872.

My dear Sophy,

My dear Sophy

One line to wish you many happy returns of the day, and to tell you that all is going on very well here....

One line to wish you a happy birthday, and to let you know that everything is going really well here....

We were very glad that you crept into such a haven of rest as Mrs. Nichol has to offer you: and I am quite sure the strain of so much fighting and organizing must be very great.

We were really happy that you found such a peaceful place like Mrs. Nichol's to stay: and I'm sure the pressure from all the fighting and organizing must be overwhelming.

It seems hardly possible that you should get on with your own Medical education while there is so much polemical business on hand; but if you carry the point for all women, it will be cheaply bought at the sacrifice of two or three years of individual training in books and bones.”

It seems almost unbelievable that you should continue your medical education while there's so much debate happening; however, if you succeed for all women, it will be a small price to pay for sacrificing two or three years of personal study in books and anatomy.

“When they persecute you in one city, flee ye to another.”

“When they chase you out of one city, run to another.”

This was advice which S. J.-B. had always kept well in mind, though not with regard to Paris and Zürich; and enquiries as to other British Universities had been diligently prosecuted. St. Andrews was the one that most naturally suggested itself, “as a comparatively rural University, without male students of medicine, and yet with the power to grant degrees.” It is true that the Medical Curriculum at St. Andrews was—and is—very incomplete; but the deficiency might be made good by some teaching-school unable—or unwilling—to grant degrees. Professor Lewis Campbell and Mrs. Campbell had taken a deep interest in the project of 355making their University the Alma Mater of the women students; S. J.-B. had visited them at St. Andrews in the autumn of 1871, with Miss Massingberd Mundy ^[98]; and there are a number of cordial letters witnessing to the genuine desire of both the Professor and his wife for the success of the scheme.

This was advice that S. J.-B. always kept in mind, though not regarding Paris and Zürich; he had diligently researched other British universities. St. Andrews was the one that naturally came to mind, “as a relatively rural university, without male medical students, yet able to grant degrees.” It's true that the medical curriculum at St. Andrews was—and still is—very incomplete; however, the gap could be filled by a teaching school that was unable—or unwilling—to grant degrees. Professor Lewis Campbell and Mrs. Campbell were deeply interested in the idea of making their university the alma mater for women students; S. J.-B. had visited them at St. Andrews in the autumn of 1871, along with Miss Massingberd Mundy, and there are several warm letters that show the genuine desire of both the Professor and his wife for the success of the initiative.

Their enthusiasm was not typical of the University, however, though Principal Tulloch “seemed friendly in a vague way”; and all hope in this direction had, for the moment, to be given up.

Their excitement wasn't typical of the University, though Principal Tulloch “seemed friendly in a vague way”; and all hope in that direction had to be set aside for now.

Meanwhile S. J.-B., on behalf of herself and her fellow-students, had made a final appeal to the University Court of Edinburgh to provide them with the means of completing their education, and she had also forwarded to them a farther legal opinion from the Lord Advocate and Sheriff Fraser to the effect that the University authorities had full power to permit the matriculation of women in 1869; that the resolutions then passed amounted to a permission to women to “study Medicine” in the University, and that therefore the women concerned were entitled to demand the means of doing so; and finally, that if such means were persistently refused, the legal mode of redress lay in an Action of Declarator.

Meanwhile, S. J.-B., representing herself and her fellow students, made a final appeal to the University Court of Edinburgh to provide them with the resources needed to complete their education. She also submitted an additional legal opinion from the Lord Advocate and Sheriff Fraser stating that the university authorities had the full power to allow the matriculation of women in 1869. The resolutions passed at that time effectively permitted women to “study Medicine” at the university, which meant that the women involved had the right to demand the means to do so. Finally, it was stated that if such means were continually denied, the proper legal recourse would be an Action of Declarator.

On January 8th the University Court resolved that it was not in their power to comply with the requirements of the women as regarded teaching: the whole question, they said, had been “complicated by the introduction of the subject of graduation, which is not essential to the completion of a medical or other education”: if the ladies would altogether give up the question of graduation, and be content with certificates of proficiency, the Court would try to meet their views.

On January 8th, the University Court decided that they couldn't meet the women's demands regarding teaching. They stated that the whole issue had become "complicated by the introduction of the topic of graduation, which is not essential to completing a medical or other education." If the women would completely abandon the graduation question and accept certificates of proficiency instead, the Court would attempt to accommodate their wishes.

“They forgot,” says S. J.-B., “that though a degree is ‘not essential’ to a medical education, it is absolutely indispensable to any practical use of it,—that is to any lawful practice of the medical profession.”

“They forgot,” says S. J.-B., “that while a degree is ‘not essential’ for a medical education, it is absolutely necessary for any practical application of it—that is, for any legal practice in the medical profession.”

356She offered, however, to waive the question of graduation,—pending an authoritative decision as to the powers and duties of the University,—if arrangements might meanwhile be made for the women to continue their education. To this the Court agreed. Farther correspondence, however, elicited the fact that the Court had no intention of coming to any decision with regard to its own powers, and that it did not mean to take any active steps in the matter.

356She proposed to postpone the graduation issue—waiting for a clear decision on the University’s powers and responsibilities—if they could make arrangements for the women to keep pursuing their education in the meantime. The Court agreed to this. Further communication, however, revealed that the Court had no plans to make any decision about its own powers and had no intention of taking any action on the matter.

“On the other hand,” says S. J.-B., “we had no less authority than that of the Lord Advocate of Scotland for believing that we were absolutely entitled to what we had so humbly solicited, and that a Court of Law would quietly award to us what seemed unattainable by any other means; we had the very widely spread and daily increasing sympathy of the community at large, and received constant offers of help from friends of every kind.... Under these circumstances we did the one thing that remained for us to do, we brought an Action of Declarator against the Senatus of the University,—praying to have it declared that the Senatus was bound, in some way or other, to enable us to complete our education and to proceed to the medical degree which would entitle us to take place on the Medical Register among the legally-qualified practitioners of medicine.”

“On the other hand,” says S. J.-B., “we had the strong backing of the Lord Advocate of Scotland, leading us to believe we were completely entitled to what we had humbly requested, and that a Court of Law would grant us what seemed impossible to achieve through any other means; we had the widespread and growing support of the community at large, and received constant offers of help from friends of all kinds.... Given these circumstances, we did the only thing left for us to do: we filed an Action of Declarator against the Senatus of the University, asking for a declaration that the Senatus was obligated, in some way, to help us complete our education and move forward to the medical degree that would qualify us to be listed among the legally-recognized medical practitioners.”

Of course the news of this daring step was forthwith noised abroad, and S. J.-B. received a protesting letter from Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, urging her not to waste on an uncertain lawsuit, money that might be so much more profitably spent in some other way.

Of course, the news of this bold move quickly spread, and S. J.-B. received a letter from Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, urging her not to waste money on a risky lawsuit that could be better spent elsewhere.

The following is S. J.-B.’s reply:

The following is S. J.-B.’s response:

“Dear Dr. Blackwell,

“Hi Dr. Blackwell,

I suppose rumour very seldom does report things correctly, so I do not wonder that you have been misinformed about the action which we are on the point of bringing against the Senatus. It is not one for breach of promise (what fun Punch would make of it if it were!) but simply an Action of Declarator whereby we pray one of the Judges of Session to declare that the Senatus is bound to complete our education, according to the decided opinion given by the Lord Advocate of Scotland.

I guess rumors rarely get things right, so I’m not surprised that you've been misinformed about the action we’re about to take against the Senatus. It’s not a breach of promise (imagine the fun Punch would have with that!) but simply a Declaratory Action where we ask one of the Judges of Session to declare that the Senatus is obligated to complete our education, in line with the opinion that the Lord Advocate of Scotland has given.

In the brief space of a letter it would be impossible for me to submit to you all the facts and grounds on which our intention is based, tho’ I should be glad to explain them in detail if you were on the spot, but you will be glad to hear that not only are the whole 357of the students here of the same mind as myself on this point, but our determination is strengthened by the advice and concurrence of some of the wisest heads in Edinburgh, including those of friendly Professors. I hope therefore that you will believe that, though you find a difficulty at a distance from the field of action in concurring in our present step, you would probably do so if all the facts of the case were as thoroughly before you as they are before us and our counsellors.

In a short letter, it's impossible for me to share all the facts and reasons behind our decision, but I would be happy to explain everything in detail if you were here. You'll be pleased to know that all the students here agree with me on this matter, and our determination is supported by the advice and agreement of some of the smartest people in Edinburgh, including friendly professors. So, I hope you understand that even if you find it hard to agree with our current action from a distance, you would likely support it if you had all the facts as clearly as we and our advisors do.

It is just because I find that London friends are so little au courant of the facts that I am hoping to give an explanatory lecture when in town next month, and I need not say how doubly glad I shall be to give every explanation and information to you to whom [all] of us medical women owe so much gratitude and respect as our pioneer and forerunner.

It’s mainly because I notice that my friends in London are not really up to date on things that I’m planning to give an explanatory talk when I’m in town next month. I can’t express how happy I’ll be to provide every explanation and piece of information to you, to whom all of us medical women owe so much gratitude and respect as our pioneer and trailblazer.

Believe me,
Yours truly,
S. Jex-Blake.”

Now that there was something definite to be done, S. J.-B. was in her element once more and the following letters make it very clear that her “counsellors” were working con amore.

Now that there was something concrete to do, S. J.-B. was in her element again, and the following letters clearly show that her “counselors” were working with love.

“University Club,
Edinburgh.
18 March, 72.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

Under the dread of bringing disgrace on the whole masculine race, I applied myself today during all the time I could command to the framing of the great Summons, and I brought it up to a point at which I think nothing of importance remains to be added except the historical statement and the pleas in law, both of which you may take for granted will be made right. If I can get them done this evening I’ll send them to you.

Feeling the pressure of possibly shaming all men, I focused today on crafting the great Summons for as long as I could. I've gotten it to a point where I think nothing major needs to be added, except for the historical statement and the legal arguments, which you can trust will be handled properly. If I can finish them this evening, I'll send them to you.

I thought as you were in a hurry to see the thing I had better let you have what I had done at once, and so I took it to White Millar and left it with him to send you. There must be a distinction drawn between you and the other ladies who are ready for the first professional exam., and the others who are not. So you will please note on the margin of the M.S. who those are that occupy these respective positions and the exact stage at which the less advanced ones have arrived. I must also have the dates and exact terms of the several resolutions and letters referred to in the last article, so as to make the chronological statement complete and accurate. I would like before the thing is finally adjusted to consult all the available sources of information on the subject of graduation and 358the original constitution of the University, and also I think if Bologna was our model, as seems to be taken for granted, that it would be worth while to communicate with some one there, such as the Secretary of the Senatus, if they have one, or the Librarian, to get authoritative statistics on the subject.

I figured since you were in a rush to see it, I should give you what I had done right away, so I took it to White Millar and asked him to send it to you. We need to make a distinction between you and the other ladies who are ready for the first professional exam and those who aren't. So, please note in the margin of the manuscript who belongs to each group and the exact stage that the less advanced ones have reached. I also need the dates and specific terms of the various resolutions and letters mentioned in the last article to ensure the chronological statement is complete and accurate. Before everything is finalized, I’d like to consult all available information regarding graduation and the original constitution of the University. Additionally, if Bologna was our model, as seems to be assumed, I think it would be useful to reach out to someone there, like the Secretary of the Senatus, if they have one, or the Librarian, to gather authoritative statistics on the matter.

I have not heard from the Dean of Faculty yet in reply to my inquiry on the point of professional punctilio involved in my undertaking the case, but another eminent legal friend whose advice I highly value thinks on the whole that I ought not to undertake it. This did not prevent me, however, from doing the Summons! Meantime you needn’t mention that I am doing it, in case of my not going on with the case, which might lead to unfavourable remarks, if it were supposed that I had begun and afterwards backed out of it. I’ll be very sorry to do so, if that is the Dean’s opinion.

I haven't heard back from the Dean of Faculty regarding my question about the professional details involved in taking on this case, but another respected legal friend, whose opinion I trust, thinks that I probably shouldn't take it on. However, that didn't stop me from preparing the Summons! In the meantime, please don't mention that I'm working on this, in case I decide not to go through with the case, which might lead to negative comments if people think I started and then backed out. I'd be really disappointed to do that if that's what the Dean thinks.

Believe me,
Yours very truly,
Alex Nicolson.”

Apparently the decision of the Dean was adverse to Mr. Nicolson, for the case was taken up, and very ably argued, by Sheriff Fraser and Mr. M‘Laren (afterwards Lord M‘Laren), who had been junior counsel in the libel case.

Apparently, the Dean's decision was not in favor of Mr. Nicolson, because the case was picked up and skillfully argued by Sheriff Fraser and Mr. M‘Laren (who would later become Lord M‘Laren), both of whom had been junior counsel in the libel case.

“I am quite certain,” writes Mr. Fraser to S. J.-B., “that upon a more thorough investigation it will be found that women did attend the Universities and graduated.... When you are up in London just now perhaps you would refer to some of the books in the British Museum, mentioned by Watts, which are not in the Advocates’ Library. You need not trouble yourself with the University of Edinburgh, as I have gone over the whole Records of the Council and of the Professors since the institution of the University, and I cannot find a single case of a woman being a student. The same I fear will be the result of an examination of the records of the other universities. This was natural, for, until recently, both the law and the social customs of Scotland, like those of other barbarous countries, regarded women as nothing else but domestic drudges and field hands.”

“I’m pretty sure,” Mr. Fraser writes to S. J.-B., “that with a deeper look, it will be discovered that women did attend universities and graduated.... When you’re in London right now, could you check some of the books in the British Museum that Watts mentioned, which aren’t in the Advocates’ Library? You don’t need to worry about the University of Edinburgh, as I’ve reviewed all the Records of the Council and the Professors since the university was founded, and I can’t find a single case of a woman being a student. I’m afraid the same outcome will likely apply to the records of the other universities. This was expected because, until recently, both the laws and social customs of Scotland, like those in other less developed countries, viewed women as nothing more than household workers and laborers.”

It was useless, of course, to suggest the British Museum. S. J.-B. had long since exhausted that mine. And she had no great faith in the information to be derived from correspondence with foreign secretaries and librarians. She had worked that vein too. It still remained to send an emissary to examine the archives of the Italian Universities at first hand, and this was what she now resolved to do. Someone had 359commended to her interest about this time an able and well-educated young lady whose health was causing her friends some anxiety, and, after watching and tending her for some time S. J.-B. despatched her on the mission, duly armed with the following dossier:

It was pointless, of course, to suggest the British Museum. S. J.-B. had long ago exhausted that resource. And she didn't have much faith in the information that could come from emailing foreign secretaries and librarians. She had worked that angle too. It was still necessary to send someone to check out the archives of the Italian Universities firsthand, and that’s what she decided to do. Someone had mentioned to her around this time an intelligent and well-educated young woman whose health was worrying her friends, and after watching over her for a while, S. J.-B. sent her on the mission, properly equipped with the following file:

“1. At each University get access, if possible, to the official archives and lists of students, and make a complete list of every woman who studied there, with date, Faculty, and other particulars.

“1. At each university, try to access the official archives and student lists if you can, and create a complete list of every woman who studied there, including the date, faculty, and other details.”

2. If you cannot get access yourself, get the lists made by some official, and, if possible, compare it with originals or other authorities.

2. If you can't access them yourself, have someone official create the lists, and, if possible, compare them with original documents or other reliable sources.

3. If possible get the Secretary or Librarian, or some Professor to attest the list with his signature, as truly extracted from the records.

3. If you can, ask the Secretary, Librarian, or a Professor to sign the list, confirming that it’s accurately taken from the records.

4. Pay any necessary fees, having as far as possible arranged for these beforehand.

4. Pay any required fees, making sure to arrange these in advance as much as you can.

5. Make copies in one book of every list obtained, of name and address of each person making or attesting such lists, and of all additional information likely to be of value.

5. Make copies in one book of every list gathered, including the names and addresses of each person who created or verified those lists, along with any extra information that could be useful.

6. Send off attested lists to me in registered letters as soon as obtained, marking in your M.S. book the exact duplicate in case of loss and sending a separate letter to Miss P. to announce dispatch.

6. Send me the certified lists in registered letters as soon as you get them, noting the exact duplicate in your notebook in case they get lost, and send a separate letter to Miss P. to let her know they've been sent.

7. Do not let your own M.S. book out of your hands for any purpose.

7. Don’t let your own M.S. book go out of your hands for any reason.

8. Send all lists on foolscap and not on foreign paper.”

8. Send all lists on foolscap paper and not on any foreign paper.

The ambassador seems to have carried through her mission most efficiently, and an imposing array of names was the result. At any rate that vein was now worked out.

The ambassador appears to have completed her mission very successfully, resulting in an impressive list of names. At any rate, that approach was now exhausted.

In the meantime “the great Summons” was duly delivered, and on March 27th the Senatus met to consider what action they should take with regard to it. We get the following informal account of what took place from Miss Pechey:

In the meantime, “the great Summons” was officially delivered, and on March 27th, the Senatus met to discuss what action they should take regarding it. We have the following informal account of what happened from Miss Pechey:

“I could not get particulars of the Senatus meeting ... till too late to write last night, but it appears that it was first moved to defend the action; then Fleeming Jenkin proposed that an attempt should be made to have an amicable lawsuit. This was negatived by 17 to 10, and then the other motion not to defend the action being put against the first, was negatived by 22 to 5. Many of our friends voted to defend,—Wilson amongst others. He says he feels sure that the thing will never be fairly settled without a legal decision. I saw him today in his office. He is very anxious you should get some member to ask a question when the Parliamentary grant is 360being arranged.^[99] He told me the enemy were dreadfully angry at the suit, from which he concluded that our Summons is well drawn up.”

“I couldn't get the details of the Senatus meeting ... until it was too late to write last night, but it seems that they initially moved to defend the action; then Fleeming Jenkin suggested trying to have a friendly lawsuit. This was rejected with a vote of 17 to 10, and then the other motion to not defend the action, which was put against the first, was also rejected by 22 to 5. Many of our friends voted to defend, including Wilson. He says he's sure that the matter will never be properly resolved without a legal decision. I saw him today in his office. He's very eager for you to get some member to ask a question when the Parliamentary grant is being arranged. He mentioned that the opposition is really angry about the lawsuit, which made him think that our Summons is well prepared.”

“This was the great argument for assenting to the corporate defence,” writes Professor Masson, “i.e. that the Senatus could not possibly let judgment go by default, which would yield all your demands (compulsion of Professors, etc.) and yet not really settle the thing, inasmuch as the Professors or anyone might afterwards reopen the whole judgment. On the same ground it is that friends don’t seem to want to stir individually. They say the defence is corporately by the Senatus and everybody will understand that, and hence that individual secession is superfluous. Tait, however, said he would consult his lawyer, and Craufurd and Jenkin meditated something of the same.”

“This was the strong argument for supporting the collective defense,” writes Professor Masson, “meaning that the Senatus couldn’t possibly let a judgment go by default, which would grant all your demands (like forcing Professors to comply, etc.) but still wouldn’t really resolve the issue, since the Professors or anyone could later challenge the whole judgment. It’s for this reason that friends don’t seem to want to act individually. They say the defense is made collectively by the Senatus, and everyone will get that, so individual withdrawal is unnecessary. However, Tait mentioned he would talk to his lawyer, and Craufurd and Jenkin were considering something similar.”

On the other hand, six members of the Senatus—anxious though they well might be to have the weary question settled one way or the other—simply could not allow the resolution to pass without protest, and the following minute is duly recorded in the books of the University:

On the other hand, six members of the Senatus—no matter how eager they were to have the exhausting question settled one way or the other—couldn't let the resolution pass without speaking out, and the following minute is officially recorded in the University’s books:

“We dissent from and protest against the resolution of the Senatus of March 27, 1872, to undertake the defence of the action. This we do for the following reasons:—(1.) Because we see no just cause for opposing the admission of women to the study and practice of medicine; but, on the contrary, consider that women who have honourably marked out such a course of life for themselves, ought to be forwarded and aided in their laudable endeavour as much as possible, by all who have the means, and especially by those having authority in any University or other institution for education; (2.) Because, in particular, we feel such aid and encouragement, rather than opposition and discouragement, to be due from us to those women who have enrolled themselves in the University of Edinburgh, and we entirely concur, with respect to them, in the desire expressed by Sir William Stirling-Maxwell, the Rector of the University, that they should obtain what they ask—namely, a complete medical education, crowned by a degree; (3.) Because we have seen no sufficient reason to doubt the legal and constitutional powers of our University to make arrangements that would be perfectly adequate for the purpose, and we consider the public questioning of 361such powers, in present circumstances, by the University itself, or any of its component bodies, unnecessary, impolitic, and capable of being construed as a surrender of permanent rights and privileges of the University, in order to evade a temporary difficulty; (4.) Because, without pronouncing an opinion on the question now raised, as to the legal rights which the pursuers have acquired by matriculation in the University, admission already to certain examinations, or otherwise, to demand from the University continued medical instruction and the degree on due qualification, we yet believe that they have thereby, and by the general tenor of the proceedings, both of the Senatus and of the University Court in their case hitherto, acquired a moral right, and created a public expectation, which the University is bound to meet by the full exercise of its powers in their behalf, even should it be with some trouble; (5.) Because, with these convictions, and notwithstanding our utmost respect for those of our colleagues from whom we may have the misfortune to differ on the subject, we should individually feel ashamed of appearing as defenders in such an action, and should account any such public appearance by us in the character of opponents to women desiring to enter an honoured and useful profession, a matter to our discredit.”

“We disagree with and protest against the decision of the Senate from March 27, 1872, to defend the action. We do this for the following reasons:—(1.) Because we see no valid reason to oppose the admission of women to the study and practice of medicine; in fact, we believe that women who choose this path should be supported and assisted in their commendable efforts by anyone who can, especially by those in positions of authority at any university or educational institution; (2.) Because we feel that it is our duty to support and encourage the women enrolled at the University of Edinburgh, rather than oppose or discourage them, and we fully agree with the desire expressed by Sir William Stirling-Maxwell, the Rector of the University, for them to receive what they are asking for—a complete medical education with a degree; (3.) Because we see no compelling reason to doubt the legal and constitutional authority of our University to create arrangements that would adequately fulfill this purpose, and we find the public questioning of such authority, in the current context, by the University itself or any of its components, unnecessary, unwise, and potentially interpreted as a concession of the University’s permanent rights and privileges in order to avoid a temporary problem; (4.) Because, without taking a stance on the legal rights that the applicants have obtained through their enrollment in the University, their admission to certain examinations, or other means, to demand ongoing medical instruction and a degree once qualified, we believe they have, through this process and the actions of both the Senate and the University Court so far, gained a moral right and established public expectations that the University is obligated to address by fully exercising its powers on their behalf, even if it requires some effort; (5.) Because, firmly believing this, and despite our deep respect for our colleagues with whom we may disagree on the matter, we would personally feel embarrassed to be seen as defenders in such an action and would consider any public appearance by us as opponents to women seeking to enter a respected and meaningful profession to be a discredit to ourselves.”

The following are the names of the six ^[100] Professors who felt bound thus to stand out against the arguments of their colleagues.

The following are the names of the six ^[100] Professors who felt compelled to oppose the arguments of their colleagues.

John Hughes Bennett, M.D., Professor of the Institutes of Medicine,

David Masson, M.A., Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature,

Henry Calderwood, LL.D., Professor of Moral Philosophy,

James Lorimer, M.A., Professor of Public Law,

Archibald H. Charteris, D.D., Professor of Biblical Criticism and Biblical Antiquities,

William Ballantyne Hodgson, LL.D.,^[101] Professor of Political Economy.

362

CHAPTER XIV
THE LORD ORDINARY’S JUDGMENT

“Did you advertise your lecture in the Lancet? I expect you will have a lot of blackguardly doctors there in consequence. Don’t have any libel cases, and don’t be hard on the students. They’re very bad, but they’re not so bad as the Professors.^[102] I know you are very busy writing and so on, and that there would be plenty of copying for me to do if only I were at hand. Don’t you want me to bully and be bullied by?

“Did you promote your lecture in the Lancet? I bet you'll have a lot of shady doctors showing up because of it. Try to avoid any libel cases, and go easy on the students. They’re pretty awful, but not as bad as the Professors.^[102] I know you’re really busy writing and all that, and there would be plenty of copying for me to do if I were around. Don’t you want me to either hassle or get hassled by you?”

How I wish I could be in the gallery to make faces at you and throw peas!”

How I wish I could be in the gallery to make silly faces at you and throw peas!

An admirable and characteristic letter, this, from Miss Pechey. Was a bracing message of warning and sympathy to a senior and chum ever more tactfully and lightly delivered?

An impressive and typical letter from Miss Pechey. Was there ever a more tactful and lightly delivered message of warning and sympathy to a senior and friend?

On April 25th, after some days in the country, S. J.-B. went to London and was met by Miss Du Pre and Miss M‘Laren, who “heard and finally polished up the lecture,” which was delivered the following day at St. George’s Hall in the presence of a large and curiously assorted audience. The Earl of Shaftesbury, who occupied the chair, was supported by Professor Lewis Campbell, Rev. Dr. Martineau, Mrs. Garrett Anderson, Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, the Dowager Countess of Buchan, and other well-known folk, and among the general public were a number of girlhood’s friends, including Miss Ada Benson, Miss Miranda Hill, and many “modern women,”—with a sprinkling of Norfolk cousins. In the course of his

On April 25th, after spending a few days in the countryside, S. J.-B. went to London and was greeted by Miss Du Pre and Miss M‘Laren, who "listened to and finally refined the lecture," which was presented the next day at St. George’s Hall in front of a large and diverse audience. The Earl of Shaftesbury, who chaired the event, was joined by Professor Lewis Campbell, Rev. Dr. Martineau, Mrs. Garrett Anderson, Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, the Dowager Countess of Buchan, and other prominent figures, while among the general public were several friends from girlhood, including Miss Ada Benson, Miss Miranda Hill, and many "modern women," along with a few cousins from Norfolk. During his

363address the Chairman made a shrewd remark, of which time has proved the truth:

363The Chairman made a clever comment that has been proven true over time:

“The argument that women were not wanted in the medical profession struck him as very singular. He was old enough to remember when railways and electric telegraphs were not wanted for the simple reason that they were not known. When they became known and tried, we could not do without them, and in all probability it would be the same with reference to ladies in the medical profession.”

“The idea that women weren’t wanted in the medical field struck him as really odd. He was old enough to remember when railways and electric telegraphs weren’t wanted simply because they weren’t known. Once they became known and tested, we couldn’t live without them, and it would likely be the same when it came to women in the medical profession.”

In many ways the lecture was a success, and it was largely quoted and referred to in the press; but, for the ordinary hearer, it was overloaded with statistics, and—with a view to that ever-possible action for libel—the lecturer kept herself too well in hand. It is amusing to find The Christian World hinting a regret that she “had not really worked herself up into a passion” in narrating the injustice and vexations to which she had been exposed.

In many ways, the lecture was a success, and it was widely quoted and referenced in the media; however, for the average listener, it was packed with statistics, and—considering the possibility of a libel lawsuit—the lecturer held herself back too much. It's amusing to see The Christian World suggest that she "had not really worked herself up into a passion" while recounting the injustices and frustrations she had faced.

On the other hand, Mrs. Priscilla Bright M‘Laren, an unbiassed expert, expressed the wish that the lecture should be delivered throughout the length and breadth of the land. The publication of a pamphlet, she said, would not have the same effect, because most people never have their sympathies thoroughly roused unless they come face to face with the person who has been persecuted. “If you could be seen and heard” she wrote, “you would produce a wonderful effect in favour of the cause you have at heart.”

On the other hand, Mrs. Priscilla Bright M‘Laren, an impartial expert, expressed her desire for the lecture to be presented all over the country. She mentioned that publishing a pamphlet wouldn’t have the same impact because most people don’t really engage emotionally unless they meet the person who has been persecuted. “If you could be seen and heard,” she wrote, “you would have a remarkable effect in support of the cause you care about.”

S. J.-B. had serious thoughts of carrying out this suggestion, but—in the interests of her own health—one is glad to record that wiser counsels prevailed.

S. J.-B. seriously considered following this suggestion, but—in the interest of her own health—it's good to note that better judgment won out.

“Thank you very, very much, darling, for your telegram,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake, the day after the lecture. “I thought if you knew how anxious I had been the last few hours, you would send one, but I did not at all expect it.”

“Thank you so much, darling, for your telegram,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake, the day after the lecture. “I thought if you knew how worried I had been over the last few hours, you would send one, but I really didn't expect it at all.”

“I have not known where to direct to keep adding my rejoicing at the many accounts of the success of your lecture. Well, I am very very glad for you and with you, and I pray things may somehow take a fresh start. How very nice of some medical students to come and officiate. I wish Professor Masson could have been there.”

“I haven’t known where to send my congratulations on the success of your lecture. I'm really glad for you and with you, and I hope things can somehow get a fresh start. It’s so nice of some medical students to come and take part. I wish Professor Masson could have been there.”

“I am very glad to think of you as once more snug at home and I hope with less work in view and some anxieties abated.... I 364am very glad indeed you have given up going about lecturing.... Tom, too, thinks you very wise to give it up: he was struck with your looking so worn, and very vexed to see you so.”

“I’m really happy to picture you back at home, hopefully with less work and fewer worries. I’m truly glad you’ve decided to stop lecturing. Tom thinks it’s a smart choice too; he noticed how worn out you looked and felt bad seeing you like that.”

It is interesting to note that S. J.-B. had taken an invalid friend home with her to recruit! At the same time she is writing to a protégée:

It’s interesting to see that S. J.-B. brought an invalid friend home with her to recover! At the same time, she is writing to someone she’s mentoring:

“I have seen Dr. Blackwell, and think she is rather disposed to give you the work.... I think you should go in your bonnet, and look sage, and not seem too eager for the work, and put a good price on yourself,—say £2 a week, or, oh, you would accept £40 for the 6 months, etc. And be very confident you can do it all, if she asks you to call on her.”

“I’ve talked to Dr. Blackwell, and I think she’s inclined to give you the work. You should go in your hat, look wise, and not seem too eager for the job. Also, make sure to set a good rate for yourself—maybe £2 a week, or you could accept £40 for the 6 months, etc. And be really confident that you can handle everything if she asks you to meet with her.”

This is really the most worldly letter that S. J.-B. ever wrote!

This is truly the most worldly letter that S. J.-B. ever wrote!

In all these later happenings, one misses the name of Mrs. Butler, who had stood by S. J.-B. so enthusiastically in the day of small things. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Butler was now fully embarked on her own heroic campaign, and both Mrs. Garrett Anderson and S. J.-B. had failed to give her their support. Thinking differently from each other on many points, characterised indeed by a fundamentally different way of looking at life, the two medical women alike realized the complications of modern civilization too profoundly to add the stupendous question that occupied Mrs. Butler to a programme that was already involved and difficult enough. Mrs. Butler felt their attitude keenly, and it was evidently with mingled feelings that she received a letter from Miss Pechey about this time, asking the privilege of adding her name and that of Canon Butler to the ever-growing Committee.

In all these subsequent events, one notices the absence of Mrs. Butler, who had supported S. J.-B. so enthusiastically during the early days. In reality, Mrs. Butler was now fully engaged in her own bold effort, and both Mrs. Garrett Anderson and S. J.-B. had not offered her any support. With differing views on many issues, and marked by a fundamentally different outlook on life, both women in medicine understood the complexities of modern society too well to add the enormous question that preoccupied Mrs. Butler to a schedule that was already complicated and challenging enough. Mrs. Butler felt their stance deeply, and it was clear she had mixed feelings when she received a letter from Miss Pechey around this time, requesting permission to add her name and that of Canon Butler to the ever-expanding Committee.

“My dear Miss Pechey,” she writes, “You are welcome to use my own and my husband’s names if you think they will do your cause any good. We cannot conceive that they would, and, on that ground alone, we should be as glad that you should not use them. It had better be left to Miss Jex-Blake’s judgment.

“My dear Miss Pechey,” she writes, “You’re welcome to use my name and my husband’s if you think it will help your cause at all. We can’t imagine that it would, and for that reason alone, we would prefer that you not use them. It’s better to leave it up to Miss Jex-Blake’s judgment.”

“All the world knows that we are on opposite sides on one of the most vital questions of the day, and that the Medical ladies have no sympathy with the efforts being made to get rid of the scandal of a great State system of legalised Prostitution, and therefore it 365appears to Mr. Butler and me an inconsistency that our names should appear in any such adverse connexion, deeply as we desire the prosperity and success of the medical woman movement....”

“All the world knows that we are on opposite sides of one of the most important issues of the day, and that the medical women have no sympathy for the efforts to eliminate the scandal of a large state-sanctioned system of legalized prostitution. Therefore, it seems inconsistent to Mr. Butler and me that our names should be linked in any negative way, especially since we deeply wish for the prosperity and success of the medical women’s movement....”

“Dear Mrs. Butler,” writes S. J.-B. in reply,—“As Miss Pechey tells me that you leave me to decide whether or no to place on our Committee your name and Mr. Butler’s, I write to say that I shall most gladly avail myself of your permission so to use your names.

“Dear Mrs. Butler,” S. J.-B. writes in response, “Since Miss Pechey has informed me that you’re leaving it up to me to decide whether or not to include your name and Mr. Butler’s on our Committee, I want to say that I will happily take your permission to use your names.

I am glad to say that our Committee is made up of over a thousand friends who not only differ widely on the point to which you refer, but among whom differences no doubt exist on almost every other question, social, political and religious.

I’m happy to say that our Committee has over a thousand members who not only have very different opinions on the issue you mentioned, but also likely have differing views on almost every other topic, including social, political, and religious issues.

As we cannot hope that even the most conscientious among us will always agree on matters of judgment, I am sure that the only wise rule is to keep each question distinct by itself, and to welcome for it the support of all who care for its success, whether or no they agree on other points.

Since we can't expect that even the most diligent among us will always see eye to eye on judgments, I believe the best approach is to treat each issue separately and to welcome support from anyone who cares about its success, regardless of whether they agree on other matters.

With kind regards to Mr. Butler, believe me,

With best wishes to Mr. Butler, trust me,

Yours truly,

S. Jex-Blake.”

The breach was never quite healed. When people care more for great causes than for personal pleasure and satisfaction, the loss of a friend must sometimes be taken as part of the day’s work. Sunt lachrymae rerum.

The wound never fully healed. When people prioritize important causes over personal enjoyment and fulfillment, losing a friend has to be accepted as just part of the job. There are tears in things.

Meanwhile the work of propaganda was going on steadily, and, as S. J.-B. had given up the idea of lecturing in the great towns, she proceeded, as the next best thing, to publish her lecture, in conjunction with her historical researches on the subject of Medical Women, in the form of a small volume.

Meanwhile, the propaganda efforts were moving forward consistently, and since S. J.-B. had abandoned the idea of giving lectures in major cities, she decided, as the next best option, to publish her lecture along with her historical research on Medical Women as a small book.

Just as she was seeing this through the press, news came of the illness of her Mother, who was visiting the cousins at Bylaugh Park.

Just as she was getting this ready for publication, she received news about her mother's illness while visiting their relatives at Bylaugh Park.

“June 17.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

I am very sorry to hear that you have had such an attack again. I should be really unhappy if I did not believe and trust in you that you would telegraph for me if you at all wished for me, or if you felt really seriously ill. Am I right in so trusting you?

I am really sorry to hear that you’ve experienced another attack. I would be quite upset if I didn’t believe and trust that you would reach out to me if you wanted to or if you were truly unwell. Am I right to trust you like this?

I am sure they will take all the care they can of you, and I hope you will be good and wise enough to eat all you can, broth at first, and then as much meat and vegetables as possible—and lots of strawberries!—are they ripe yet at Bylaugh?

I'm sure they'll take good care of you, and I hope you'll be smart enough to eat as much as you can—starting with broth, and then as much meat and vegetables as you can get—and plenty of strawberries! Are they ripe yet at Bylaugh?

366You know that I am doing Dispensary work now, and have several patients of all kinds to look after, but I envy the doctor that has my old lady instead of me.

366 You know I'm working at the clinic now and have a bunch of different patients to take care of, but I envy the doctor who gets to look after my old lady instead of me.

If you decide against going to Wales, suppose you come up here straight from Norfolk, and we have a quiet month quite alone together?—somewhere in the Highlands—if I have to give up Brighton.

If you choose not to go to Wales, what if you come straight up here from Norfolk, and we spend a calm month alone together?—somewhere in the Highlands—if I have to give up Brighton.

Of course I shall send you your own copy of my new book myself, but Miss Pechey will send any quantity more that you may order for giving away, etc.

Of course, I will personally send you your own copy of my new book, but Miss Pechey will send any additional copies you may want for giveaways, etc.

How good of dear old Auntie to write!

How sweet of dear old Auntie to write!

Yours lovingly,

Soph.”

The illness, however, rapidly assumed a dangerous character, and S. J.-B. was telegraphed for next day.

The illness, however, quickly took a serious turn, and S. J.-B. was called for the next day.

“Luckily was up,” she says [she had been ill herself], “and received the telegram by 9.50 a.m. Got things packed and off by 10.25 train. Thunder and lightning whole way up. Reached Peterbro about 6.30,—Lynn 9.15. Got a carriage and drove to Swaffham ...—thence to Bylaugh, arriving at 2.45 a.m. Crept up to Mother’s room,—she, ‘My darling!’—She had been nervous and restless, but slept, holding my hand.

“Luckily, I was awake,” she says [she had been sick herself], “and got the telegram by 9:50 a.m. I packed my things and took the 10:25 train. There was thunder and lightning the whole way up. I arrived in Peterborough around 6:30, then Lynn at 9:15. I got a carriage and drove to Swaffham ...—then to Bylaugh, arriving at 2:45 a.m. I crept up to Mother’s room,—she said, ‘My darling!’—She had been anxious and restless, but she fell asleep holding my hand.

Oh, the horror of seeing her all shrunk together in bed, hardly articulate,—I thought dying.

Oh, the horror of seeing her all curled up in bed, barely able to speak—I thought she was dying.

And had been very nearly....”

And had almost been....”

As usual when life was doing its worst, there follow a few blank pages in the diary,—pages that were to be filled in some day! “I am so glad,” wrote Miss Jane Cubitt from Fritton,—Miss Cubitt was the “sensible cousin” of the childhood, who could do equations—“I am so glad that you have arrived at Bylaugh. I feel now that all that can be done will be done.” And fortunately on this occasion recovery came more rapidly than the doctors had thought possible.

As usual, when life was at its worst, there were a few blank pages in the diary—pages that would be filled someday! “I’m so glad,” wrote Miss Jane Cubitt from Fritton—Miss Cubitt was the “sensible cousin” from childhood who could solve equations—“I’m so glad you’ve arrived at Bylaugh. I feel now that everything that can be done will be done.” Luckily, this time recovery happened more quickly than the doctors had expected.

S. J.-B. returned to Edinburgh on the 8th July, not a moment too soon. She was called out to a case the evening of her arrival—having travelled north by day—and she proceeded forthwith to finish seeing her book through the press. Law business, too, was urgently claiming her return. On Wednesday, the 17th July, the historic lawsuit came on before Lord Gifford.

S. J.-B. got back to Edinburgh on July 8th, just in time. She was called out to a case the evening she arrived—having traveled north during the day—and she immediately went to wrap up getting her book published. Legal matters were also demanding her return. On Wednesday, July 17th, the historic lawsuit was heard before Lord Gifford.

367It must be understood that this lawsuit, though of almost infinite importance to the women, was in no way a dramatic affair like the last. In the nature of the case it afforded no sensations to provincial papers. An Action of Declarator is “for a decree defining and declaring the right of the pursuer,”^[103] and the evidence in Court was given by Counsel only.

367It should be clear that this lawsuit, though extremely important to the women involved, was not at all a dramatic event like the last one. The nature of the case didn't generate any excitement for local newspapers. An Action of Declarator is “for a decree defining and declaring the right of the pursuer,”^[103] and the evidence in Court was presented solely by Counsel.

The women repeated in effect the requests they had so often made to the University, viz. that the Professors should either receive them as members of their classes, or else appoint (or recognize) other lecturers who would. The defence consisted substantially of two pleas: 1. that all parties are not called (see below); and 2. that the Senatus has not the power to do what it is asked to do; in other words, (a) that the University existed for men only, and, (b) that the University authorities in making this experiment, had never intended to admit women to graduation. If they did so intend, the intention was ultra vires; and indeed they probably went beyond their powers when in 1869 they framed regulations admitting women to share their privileges at all.

The women basically repeated the requests they had frequently made to the University, which were that the Professors should either allow them to join their classes or appoint (or recognize) other lecturers who would. The defense was essentially based on two arguments: 1. that not all parties are involved (see below); and 2. that the Senatus does not have the power to do what it is being asked to do; in other words, (a) that the University was only for men, and (b) that the University authorities, in carrying out this experiment, never intended to admit women to graduation. If they did intend to, that intention was beyond powers; and in fact, they probably overstepped their powers when, in 1869, they created regulations allowing women to share their privileges at all.

The hearing of the case lasted two days, and it was fully reported in the Scottish daily papers of July 18th and 19th. Much of it, of course, consisted of sheer technical detail that has long since lost interest, but Lord Gifford’s judgment—delivered eight or nine days after the hearing of Counsel—was characterized by a grip of the whole situation and enlivened by a warmth of human interest that make it a landmark in the history, not only of medical women, but of the whole Feminist movement. If he allowed his sympathy with the pursuers to appear rather too clearly, this was surely a fault that, in view of all the circumstances, may well be reckoned to him for righteousness. The gist of the judgment is contained in the following sentences:

The hearing of the case lasted two days and was fully reported in the Scottish daily papers on July 18th and 19th. Much of it, of course, was just technical details that have long since lost their appeal, but Lord Gifford’s judgment—delivered eight or nine days after the hearing of Counsel—showed a clear understanding of the entire situation and was filled with a genuine warmth that makes it a significant moment in the history of not just medical women, but the entire Feminist movement. If he showed his sympathy for the pursuers a bit too openly, it's a fault that, considering all the circumstances, can be seen as a sign of righteousness. The essence of the judgment is captured in the following sentences:

“The Lord Ordinary finds that, according to the existing constitution and regulations of the said University of Edinburgh, the pursuers are entitled to be admitted to the study of medicine in the said University, and that they are entitled to all the rights and privileges of lawful students in the said University, subject only to the conditions specified and contained in the said regulations of 12th November 3681869: Finds that the pursuers, on completing the prescribed studies, and on compliance with all the existing regulations of the University preliminary to degrees, are entitled to proceed to examination for degrees in manner prescribed by the regulations of the University of Edinburgh.”

"The Lord Ordinary finds that, based on the current constitution and regulations of the University of Edinburgh, the pursuers have the right to be admitted to study medicine at the University and are entitled to all the rights and privileges of legitimate students there, subject only to the conditions specified in the regulations of November 12, 3681869. It is determined that the pursuers, upon completing the required studies and meeting all the existing regulations of the University necessary for degrees, have the right to proceed to examinations for degrees in the manner outlined by the regulations of the University of Edinburgh."

In the “Note,” the Lord Ordinary discusses the case in detail:

In the “Note,” the Lord Ordinary goes over the case in detail:

“It is not easy to over-estimate the importance of the questions involved in the present action. The decision may affect, in various ways, not only the interests of the pursuers, and of all who are similarly situated, but also the future welfare of the University, and indirectly the well-being of the community at large who are interested in securing the services of thoroughly educated and accomplished medical practitioners.

“It’s hard to overstate how important the questions involved in this case are. The decision could impact, in different ways, not just the interests of the plaintiffs and others in similar situations, but also the future of the University, and indirectly, the overall well-being of the community that relies on highly educated and skilled medical professionals.”

The Lord Ordinary has endeavoured to approach the consideration of the questions dispassionately, and free from all prejudices or prepossessions. He has also endeavoured to keep in view that his functions are merely judicial and not legislative, and that his duty is simply to declare and apply the law as it at present stands, and in no way to endeavour to amend it, however strong his convictions of what the law ought to be....

The Lord Ordinary has tried to consider the questions calmly and without any biases or preconceived notions. He has also aimed to remember that his role is strictly judicial, not legislative, and that his responsibility is simply to interpret and apply the law as it is right now, and not to try to change it, no matter how strongly he feels about what the law should be.

The importance of the question to the present pursuers, and to all ladies who, like them, may contemplate the practice of medicine as a profession, lies in this, that, by the provisions of the Medical Act of 1858 no one is entitled to be registered as a medical practitioner without possessing a medical degree from one or other of the universities of the United Kingdom, or a licence equivalent thereto from certain established medical bodies mentioned in the Act. A foreign or colonial degree is not available, and does not entitle to registration unless the holder thereof has been in practice in Great Britain previous to October 1858. Unless the pursuers, therefore, succeed in obtaining degrees, they will be practically excluded from the profession of medicine, for they are not in a position to demand licences from any of the authorised medical bodies, and it can scarcely be expected that they will prosecute their medical studies merely in order to be hereafter classed with empirics, herbalists or medical botanists, or with those who, in common language, are denominated quacks. Without legal registration under the Medical Act of 1858, the pursuers would be denied all right to recover fees; they would be incapable of holding any medical appointment; and they would be subject to very serious penalties if they so much as attempted to assume the name or title of medical practitioners.

The significance of this issue for the current seekers, and for all women who, like them, might consider pursuing medicine as a career, is that the Medical Act of 1858 states that no one can be registered as a medical practitioner without having a medical degree from one of the universities in the United Kingdom or an equivalent license from certain recognized medical organizations mentioned in the Act. A foreign or colonial degree isn’t accepted and does not qualify for registration unless the holder has practiced in Great Britain before October 1858. Therefore, unless the seekers manage to obtain degrees, they will effectively be excluded from the medical profession, as they cannot request licenses from any authorized medical bodies, and it's hardly reasonable to expect them to continue their medical studies just to be categorized as empirics, herbalists, or medical botanists, or what is commonly referred to as quacks. Without legal registration under the Medical Act of 1858, the seekers would lose the right to collect fees; they wouldn't be able to hold any medical position; and they would face serious penalties if they tried to use the name or title of medical practitioners.

It is a fact, whatever may be its effect in law, that no University in Great Britain has ever yet granted a degree to a lady. The 369Medical Register of Great Britain only contains the name of two female practitioners—Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell and Dr. Garrett Anderson. Dr. Blackwell obtained her degree in America, and, being in practice in Great Britain before 1858, she obtained registration in virtue of the exception in the Act. Dr. Garrett Anderson obtained a licence from the Apothecaries’ Hall, London, and is registered as such; but, since her admission, regulations have been made which prevent any other lady from hereafter obtaining a licence from the Apothecaries’ Hall. Accordingly the course pursued by Dr. Blackwell and Dr. Anderson is not open to any of the pursuers, and their only hope of being allowed to practise medicine in Great Britain rests upon their being able to obtain a degree from one or other of the Universities.

It’s a fact that, regardless of its legal implications, no university in Great Britain has ever granted a degree to a woman. The 369 Medical Register of Great Britain only lists two female practitioners—Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell and Dr. Garrett Anderson. Dr. Blackwell earned her degree in America and, practicing in Great Britain before 1858, she was able to register under the exception in the Act. Dr. Garrett Anderson received a license from the Apothecaries’ Hall in London and is registered as such; however, since her admission, new regulations have been put in place that prevent any other woman from obtaining a license from the Apothecaries’ Hall in the future. As a result, the paths taken by Dr. Blackwell and Dr. Anderson are not available to any of the current applicants, and their only hope to practice medicine in Great Britain hinges on obtaining a degree from one of the universities.

Practically, therefore, the questions are now raised for the first time, Can a lady obtain a medical degree? and, Is any lady to be allowed to practise in Great Britain?”

So, the questions we’re asking for the first time are, Can a woman get a medical degree? and, Will any woman be allowed to practice in Great Britain?”

The Lord Ordinary then discussed the case for the defenders, point by point: The first plea in law was the technical plea that “all parties are not called,” or, in other words, that the action should have been brought, not against the Senatus and Chancellor, but against the University as a whole.

The Lord Ordinary then went through the defenders' case, point by point: The first legal argument was the technical plea that "not all parties are included," or, in simpler terms, that the lawsuit should have been filed against the entire University instead of just the Senatus and Chancellor.

This question, said the Lord Ordinary, should have been raised before the record was closed, and settled in limine. As a matter of fact, however, it was of little moment, as the Senatus and Chancellor were the only parties complained of,—it being assumed that the University as a whole was ready and willing to do its duty as soon as such duty was clearly defined. The Chancellor, indeed, had expressed this willingness so far as he individually was concerned, and, strictly speaking, he need not have been called as a party.

This question, said the Lord Ordinary, should have been brought up before the record was closed and settled pre-trial. In reality, though, it didn’t matter much since the Senatus and Chancellor were the only ones being complained about—it was assumed that the University as a whole was ready and willing to fulfill its responsibilities as soon as those responsibilities were clearly defined. The Chancellor had, in fact, expressed this willingness personally, and technically, he didn’t need to be included as a party.

From the principle on which this preliminary plea was repelled, it followed that there was in the present action no attempt to impugn in the slightest degree the existing constitution of the University. Its existing regulations and ordinances must be taken as right, and the Senatus must simply be called upon to give effect to these as they stood.

From the principle that rejected this initial argument, it followed that there was no attempt in this case to challenge the current constitution of the University in any way. Its existing rules and regulations must be accepted as correct, and the Senatus must simply be asked to implement them as they are.

The Lord Ordinary proceeded to make one or two observations of a general nature. He was clearly of opinion that, by the law of Scotland, there was no inherent illegality in 370women prosecuting the science of medicine, using the word in its largest sense, or in their engaging in the practice of medicine as a profession.... Indeed some branches of the profession were peculiarly appropriate to women and peculiarly inappropriate to men. For instance, in obstetric practice and in numerous diseases of women, a male practitioner was singularly out of place, and nothing but the deadening effect of habit would ever reconcile the community to that anomaly both in name and in reality, “a man-midwife.”

The Lord Ordinary went on to make a few general observations. He was clearly of the opinion that, according to the law of Scotland, there was no inherent illegality in 370women studying medicine, in the broadest sense, or in their pursuing medicine as a career.... In fact, certain areas of the profession were especially suited to women and particularly ill-suited to men. For example, in obstetric practice and in many women's health issues, a male practitioner was distinctly out of place, and only the numbing effect of habit would ever help society accept that anomaly both in name and in reality, “a man-midwife.”

Keeping these preliminary observations in view, the Lord Ordinary proceeded to consider the constitution and regulations of the University of Edinburgh so far as they related to women:

Keeping these initial observations in mind, the Lord Ordinary then looked into the constitution and regulations of the University of Edinburgh as they pertained to women:

I. It had been broadly maintained by the Counsel for the Senatus, in a very powerful and able speech, that the University of Edinburgh was founded and existed for males alone.

I. It had been widely argued by the Counsel for the Senatus, in a very strong and effective speech, that the University of Edinburgh was established and existed solely for men.

If this proposition were well founded, there was, of course, an end of the whole case. The Lord Ordinary, however, had felt himself quite unable to affirm this proposition, but had come ultimately, without any hesitation at all, to the conclusion that there was no foundation for this first and general contention of the defenders.

If this claim were true, then the whole case would obviously be over. However, the Lord Ordinary felt he couldn't support this claim and ultimately came to the clear conclusion that there was no basis for the defenders' initial and general argument.

a. The charter gave no countenance to this supposition. The masculine noun or pronoun was used merely in conformity with ordinary brevity and simplicity of expression.

a. The charter did not support this assumption. The masculine noun or pronoun was used simply for the sake of brevity and clarity.

b. The fact that the Universities of Scotland were founded to a great extent upon the model of Bologna, etc., seemed to show that—as women were admitted to the Italian Universities—there could have been no original intention to exclude them from those founded in Scotland.

b. The fact that the universities in Scotland were largely based on the model of Bologna, among others, suggests that—just as women were allowed to attend Italian universities—there was likely no original intention to keep them out of those established in Scotland.

c. It was true that there was no recorded instance of a woman having taken her degree in Scotland, and this was an argument of some weight, perhaps considerable weight. If, however, the women had the right originally, that right would not be lost by the mere fact of non-usage. The right in their case was res merae facultatis, like a man’s right to build upon his own ground,—a right that is not lost though no building be erected for hundreds or thousands of years. To extinguish such a right there must be a contrary usage—a 371possession inconsistent with the exercise of the right—and that did not exist in the present case.

c. It was true that there was no documented instance of a woman earning her degree in Scotland, and this was a valid argument, maybe even a strong one. However, if women originally had the right, that right wouldn't be lost just because it hasn't been used. In their case, the right was my resources, similar to a man's right to build on his own property—a right that isn't lost even if no construction happens for hundreds or thousands of years. To eliminate such a right, there must be a conflicting use—a 371possession that contradicts the exercise of the right—and that didn't exist in this situation.

d. If there was no express exclusion of women and nothing necessarily leading to their exclusion, it seemed fair to fall back upon the inherent legality and appropriateness of the study and practice of medicine by women, and to infer that a medical school founded in the University could not have as one of its conditions the exclusion of the female sex.

d. If there was no clear exclusion of women and nothing that would automatically lead to their exclusion, it seemed reasonable to rely on the inherent legality and appropriateness of women studying and practicing medicine, and to conclude that a medical school established at the University could not have as one of its conditions the exclusion of women.

e. Passing from such general considerations, the Lord Ordinary considered it quite conclusive of the whole question that, by regulations lawfully enacted by competent and sufficient authority, provision had actually been made for the admission of women to the study of medicine in the University of Edinburgh, and that actually detailed regulations had been made regulating their studies and examinations.

e. Moving beyond those general points, the Lord Ordinary found it quite conclusive to the entire matter that, through rules properly established by the appropriate and adequate authority, arrangements had been made for the admission of women to the study of medicine at the University of Edinburgh, and that specific regulations had indeed been created to guide their studies and exams.

II. The Lord Ordinary was of opinion that the “regulations for the education of women in Medicine in the University” of Edinburgh, enacted by the University Court of 10th November, 1869, and approved of by the Chancellor on 12th November, 1869, were valid and binding in every respect, and formed an integral part of the constitution and regulations of the University as it at present existed. At the debate it was felt on both sides that these regulations formed almost the turning-point in the case, and the counsel for the Senatus, sorely pressed by them, had boldly challenged their legality, maintained that they were ultra vires of the University Court to enact, and had asked the Lord Ordinary to treat them as a nullity. Here again the Lord Ordinary thought the position taken by the Senatus was absolutely untenable.

II. The Lord Ordinary believed that the “regulations for the education of women in Medicine at the University” of Edinburgh, enacted by the University Court on November 10, 1869, and approved by the Chancellor on November 12, 1869, were valid and binding in every way, and constituted an essential part of the university's constitution and regulations as it currently existed. During the debate, both sides felt that these regulations were almost the pivotal point in the case, and the counsel for the Senatus, under significant pressure from them, boldly questioned their legality, argued that they were beyond legal authority of the University Court to impose, and requested the Lord Ordinary to disregard them as invalid. Once again, the Lord Ordinary found the stance taken by the Senatus to be completely untenable.

The regulations in question were solemnly, after much discussion, after long consideration, and after due communication with the whole governing bodies of the University, enacted by the University Court, a body which had very large and almost legislative powers. The regulations were enacted with all the required statutory requisites. “Due communication” was had with the Senatus. The matter was submitted to and was duly considered by the University Council, and the regulations received the final sanction and approval of the Chancellor. The Senatus, the University 372Court and the University Council had all the benefit of the very highest legal skill and experience. Most eminent lawyers were members of all these bodies; and the Chancellor who put the seal of his approbation and sanction to the regulations held with universal acceptance the very highest judicial office in Scotland.... So satisfied had the Senatus been of the validity of the regulations, that they had actually applied to the enacting power—that is, to the University Court—to rescind them. The University Court had refused to rescind the regulations and they still stood part of the law of the University.

The regulations in question were formally enacted by the University Court after extensive discussions, careful consideration, and proper communication with all governing bodies of the University. The University Court had significant legislative powers and followed all necessary legal requirements. Communication was established with the Senatus, and the matter was submitted to and thoroughly reviewed by the University Council, receiving final approval from the Chancellor. The Senatus, University Court, and University Council benefited from the expertise of highly qualified legal professionals. Prominent lawyers were part of these bodies, and the Chancellor, who endorsed the regulations, held the highest judicial position in Scotland with widespread respect. The Senatus had such confidence in the regulations' validity that they requested the University Court, which had declined to revoke them, to annul them. Consequently, the regulations remained part of the University's laws.

III. The Lord Ordinary was of opinion that the pursuers were entitled in substance to the declaratory decree which they demanded in the present action....

III. The Lord Ordinary believed that the pursuers were entitled to the declaratory decree they requested in this action....

The right to medical graduation was really at the foundation of the whole of the present dispute. If the ladies had been content to study as mere amateurs—as mere dilettanti—it rather appeared that no question would ever have been raised. But their demand for degrees, and the announcement of their intention to practise as physicians, had aroused a jealousy which the Lord Ordinary was very unwillingly obliged to characterize as unworthy, and hence this strife.

The right to graduate in medicine was really at the core of the entire current dispute. If the women had been satisfied to study as mere amateurs—just as hobbyists—it seemed that no issues would have ever come up. But their demand for degrees and the declaration of their intention to work as doctors had sparked a jealousy that the Lord Ordinary was reluctantly forced to describe as unworthy, leading to this conflict.

The Lord Ordinary was of opinion, without any doubt at all that the proposal to withhold from successful or fully accomplished female students the regular degrees, and to give them instead mere certificates of proficiency was incompetent as well as unjust. The proposal was not unnaturally stigmatized by the pursuers as “a mere mockery.”

The Lord Ordinary firmly believed, without any doubt, that the plan to deny fully accomplished female students their regular degrees and instead give them just certificates of proficiency was both inappropriate and unfair. It was understandably labeled by the claimants as “a mere mockery.”

IV. All this, of course, had reference to the declaratory conclusions. Beyond that the Lord Ordinary could give no help. The first petitory conclusion asked that the Professors be directed to admit women to their ordinary classes; but this, as Lord Gifford pointed out, was more than the Senatus had power to do, and the University Court could only do it by altering regulations which the present judgment had assumed to be right. The University Court, however, had undoubted power to recognize extra-academical teachers; and—as teachers of unquestionable standing and ability were ready to give the pursuers instruction in separate classes—as, 373moreover, the University had only been held back by a doubt as to its own powers—the Lord Ordinary hoped that this solution would terminate the unfortunate controversy which had raged so long.

IV. All of this, of course, related to the declaratory conclusions. Beyond that, the Lord Ordinary couldn’t provide any assistance. The first request asked that the Professors be ordered to allow women into their regular classes; however, as Lord Gifford noted, this was beyond what the Senatus had the authority to do, and the University Court could only achieve this by changing regulations that the current judgment had assumed were correct. The University Court, however, definitely had the authority to acknowledge extra-academical teachers; and since distinguished and capable teachers were ready to provide instruction to the pursuers in separate classes—and since the University had only hesitated due to uncertainty about its own powers—the Lord Ordinary hoped that this solution would resolve the unfortunate dispute that had lasted so long.

S. J.-B. records the result very briefly in her diary:

S. J.-B. quickly notes the outcome in her diary:

“Friday, July 26th. Lord Gifford’s judgment. Affirms declaratory conclusions, i.e. full rights,—denies petitory conclusions, i.e. says action so framed that he could not make order on Senatus.

“Friday, July 26th. Lord Gifford’s judgment. Confirms declaratory conclusions, meaning full rights,—dismisses petitory conclusions, meaning states the action is framed in a way that he couldn’t issue an order on the Senatus.”

Gloria tibi, Domine!

Glory to you, Lord!

Substantially the whole cause won for all women, I believe.

I believe it has mostly won the cause for all women.

His note too good to be easily set aside. May be fresh delay—hardly defeat.”

His note was too good to be easily ignored. Maybe just a fresh delay—hardly a defeat.”

In any case it was a great and inspiring judgment,—almost enough to atone to S. J.-B. at the moment for all she had come through; for it must not be forgotten that the epoch-making enactments of November 1869, on which almost everything turned, had been won by her own bow and spear, practically before any other woman student had appeared upon the scene.^[104] Well might she cry, “Gloria tibi, Domine!”

In any case, it was a great and inspiring decision—almost enough to make up to S. J.-B. for everything she had gone through; for we must remember that the groundbreaking laws of November 1869, which were crucial to everything, had been achieved by her own hard work, practically before any other female students had even arrived. ^[104] She could rightly cry, “Glory to you, Lord!”

And within a few days a great pæan of rejoicing rang out over the land,—rejoicing that was to spread over the whole civilized world. Once more the postman was a delightful visitant. Indeed, as one reads the letters, one is fain to retract the dictum that this lawsuit was in any way devoid of dramatic interest.

And within a few days, a great celebration echoed across the land—a celebration that was set to spread throughout the entire civilized world. Once again, the postman was a welcome visitor. In fact, as one reads the letters, one is eager to take back the statement that this lawsuit was at all lacking in dramatic interest.

The telegraph boy came first, with a characteristic message from Mrs. Kingsley:

The telegraph boy arrived first, delivering a typical message from Mrs. Kingsley:

“A thousand congratulations. How is R.C.”

“Eileanach,
Inverness.
July 31/72.

Dear Miss Blake,

Dear Ms. Blake,

A paragraph in the Daily Telegraph of the 30th made me surprise sitters-by, by exclaiming ‘Thank God,’...

A paragraph in the Daily Telegraph from the 30th caught the attention of bystanders when I exclaimed, “Thank God,”...

It is almost too good news to be true, although those not versed in legal quibbles felt that your claim was both legal and equitable, and must, in due time, be conceded. Yet, I would thankfully learn 374that the case is ended, and that there is to be no appeal to keep it open longer.

It almost seems too good to be true, but those who aren't familiar with legal issues believed that your claim was both valid and fair, and must, eventually, be accepted. Still, I would gladly hear that the case is closed, and that there won't be an appeal to prolong it any further. 374

I mean to be in Edinr. (Cockburn Hotel) on the 8th August, and will that day try to see and congratulate you on the blessed determination you have shown, all along, not to be put down by mere brute, unmanly force, but to compel justice to be done.

I plan to be in Edinburgh (Cockburn Hotel) on August 8th, and that day I’ll try to see you and congratulate you on your wonderful determination to stand strong against sheer brute force and to make sure justice is served.

I am grieved that this should have cost you and your friends such shameful trouble and expense, but know, that this loss to you, will be the cause of myriads of dear women thanking God for having won a victory that will do more for their welfare and happiness, temporal and spiritual, than is now perceived but by a very few....

I’m sorry it had to cost you and your friends so much trouble and money, but just know that this loss for you will lead to countless women thanking God for a victory that will do more for their well-being and happiness—both now and in the future—than most people realize.

May God be with you and your friends, and speedily fill the land with true women like you, so that no woman may need to keep secret for an instant a single pain, because she can only tell it to men.

May God be with you and your friends, and quickly fill the world with genuine women like you, so that no woman has to hide even a moment of her pain, because the only people she can speak to are men.

Very sincerely yours,
J. Mackenzie, M.D.,
Provost.”

“Wednesday, July 31.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

Will you allow me to add my hearty congratulations to those with which I doubt not you are now being overwhelmed, on the success of your brave and patient conflict with prejudice and injustice? I think the question is now practically settled.

Will you let me add my warm congratulations to the many you've probably already received on your brave and patient fight against prejudice and injustice? I believe the issue is now practically settled.

Thanks for your kind letter.letter. I am very glad you liked St. Andrews. Believe me with much respect,

Thanks for your kind letter.letter. I'm really glad to hear you enjoyed St. Andrews. Believe me with much respect,

Yours very sincerely,

A.K.H. Boyd.”

The letter that follows is from one who was to become an invaluable champion.

The letter below is from someone who was about to become an invaluable advocate.

“16 Wimpole Street.

July 27.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Miss Jex-Blake

Allow me to congratulate you most heartily on the decision of Lord Gifford, which establishes the rights of the lady students at Edinburgh.

Allow me to congratulate you wholeheartedly on Lord Gifford's decision, which secures the rights of female students at Edinburgh.

I will do what I can to get your interesting little book noticed in the Lancet.

I’ll do my best to get your intriguing little book some attention in the Lancet.

I do hope that the Conservative party in the profession will now have the sense to give way with a good grace.

I really hope that the Conservative party in the profession will now have the sense to step back gracefully.

Believe me, dear Miss Jex-Blake,
Yours very truly,
Francis Ed. Anstie.”

375The next is in the shaky handwriting of an invalid:

375The next is in the unsteady handwriting of a person who is unwell:

“My Darling,

My Love,

I was so delighted to have your letter with the grand news. I had not dared expect anything so good. From my heart I thank God and rejoice. I feel so comfortably well, no aches or pains whatever. May God bless and prosper my darling.

I was so happy to get your letter with the amazing news. I never expected anything this good. From the bottom of my heart, I thank God and celebrate. I feel great—no aches or pains at all. May God bless and support my darling.

Your loving mom.

Shall I give a copy to Nurse of the book when we part?”

Shall I give a copy of the book to the nurse when we say goodbye?

“Riffelberg.

July 30th. 1872.

My dear Sophy,

I am delighted to see in Times of 27th, just arrived, that Lord Gifford has given a judgment entirely in favour of yourself and the other lady students. I congratulate you heartily and only hope it is final.

I’m thrilled to see in the Times from the 27th, which just arrived, that Lord Gifford has issued a ruling completely in favor of you and the other female students. I sincerely congratulate you and can only hope this is the final decision.

I am here 8,400 ft. above the sea, having found it impossible to get fresh in England, ...

I am here 8,400 ft. above sea level, finding it impossible to get fresh air in England,...

I hope your legal perils are over; and, though one has regretted that so much legal work prevented your own medical start, it has been well worth all you have gone through, or yet may go through, to open the Profession thoroughly to women.

I hope your legal troubles are behind you, and while it's unfortunate that all that legal work held back your own medical career, it has been well worth everything you have experienced or may still face to fully open the profession to women.

As soon as you have completed your training, you have in my opinion nothing but success before you: and, within 12 months of settling in London as a properly qualified Physician, you will find it easy to make £2000 a year, and impossible to avoid doing a very large amount of good in making it....

As soon as you finish your training, I believe you have nothing but success ahead of you: and within 12 months of moving to London as a qualified Physician, you'll find it easy to earn £2000 a year and impossible not to do a lot of good while doing it...

Your affectionate brother,

T. W. J.-B.”

It was on the occasion of this visit to Switzerland that Mr. Jex-Blake made the acquaintance of Miss Agnes M‘Laren—on the top of the Eggishorn! It chanced one day that he ran down from the summit to assist a fragile little lady up the last steep climb, and, in the course of subsequent conversation, lent her a guide-book, in which, to her great surprise, she found the familiar name of Jex-Blake.

It was during this trip to Switzerland that Mr. Jex-Blake met Miss Agnes M‘Laren—at the top of the Eggishorn! One day, he happened to run down from the peak to help a delicate little lady with the final steep ascent, and during their conversation afterward, he lent her a guidebook, where, to her surprise, she found the name Jex-Blake.

So the Eggishorn heard all about it.

Yes, friends were kind, and more than kind; but, as before, the “man in the street” rejoices one’s heart:

Yes, friends were nice, and even more than nice; but, as always, the "average person" brings joy to one's heart:

“Glasgow. 30th July, 1872.

Dear Lady,

Dear Ma'am,

I beg respectfully to convey my sincere thanks to you for the gallant stand which you have made against those parties whom I 376may term Medical Monopolists, and to express my delight at the success which have attended your efforts.

I respectfully want to express my heartfelt thanks to you for the brave stand you've taken against those groups I might call Medical Monopolists, and to share my happiness at the success that has come from your efforts.

Your address and ability in thwarting the selfish purposes of said parties have endeared you to every liberty loving individual in the civilised world, and I sincerely hope you will long be spared to benefit suffering humanity by your experience and knowledge—knowledge which you have pursued under such tremendous difficulties, but the possession of which cannot fail eventually to raise you to the very pinacle of your professionprofession.

Your skills and determination in stopping the selfish agendas of those parties have won you the admiration of everyone who values freedom in the civilized world. I truly hope you will continue to be around for a long time to help suffering humanity with your experience and knowledge—knowledge that you've gained despite facing huge challenges, and this knowledge is bound to elevate you to the very top of your professionprofession.

I am,

Yours very respectfully, ...”

The following lines, written and sent to S. J.-B. a few months later by a well-known Edinburgh citizen, may be taken as a sample of much clever and spirited doggerel on both sides of the question:

The following lines, written and sent to S. J.-B. a few months later by a well-known Edinburgh resident, can be seen as an example of the clever and lively verse on both sides of the issue:

“I do rejoice, Miss Jex,
The gods have heard your Prex,
To vindicate your Sex,
By passing a new Lex,
Though that does sadly vex
Professor C., senex,
Who plays the part of Rex,
But may become an Ex,
Because he won’t annex
The females to his Grex.”

377

CHAPTER XV
PAYING THE PRICE

All through that autumn S. J.-B’s mind must have been simply seething with the manifold interests that claimed her attention.

All through that autumn, S. J.-B's mind must have been buzzing with all the different interests that captured her attention.

“If anybody ever deserved a rest, you do,” writes Miss Stevenson, “and I most earnestly hope you will take a thorough one. I do not think any of us are able fully to realize the importance of Lord Gifford’s decision to all men and women in all time coming.”

“If anyone ever deserved a break, it’s you,” Miss Stevenson writes, “and I truly hope you take a good one. I don’t think any of us can fully grasp how significant Lord Gifford’s decision is for everyone, now and in the future.”

“I am truly glad that something is definitely settled at last,” writes Miss Bovell from Paris, “and not least for your sake. I do trust you may have much less worry in future, though I fear the ‘separate classes’ will still prove a source of trouble. Perhaps some time hence the British Medical Profession, as well as the British Public, may be sufficiently advanced to throw aside the unscientific scruples which happily appear to have no existence here....

“I’m really glad that something is finally settled at last,” writes Miss Bovell from Paris, “and not least for your sake. I truly hope you won’t have as much worry in the future, though I fear the ‘separate classes’ will still be a source of trouble. Maybe someday the British Medical Profession, along with the British Public, will be advanced enough to let go of the unscientific concerns that thankfully don’t seem to exist here....

I suppose you will be going in for your Professional in October? I wish you all possible honours. I trust your mind is now sufficiently at ease for you to work at books, but you will take a holiday in the country first, will you not?”

I guess you’ll be taking your Professional exam in October? I wish you all the best. I hope you’re feeling relaxed enough to focus on your studies, but you’re going to take a break in the countryside first, right?

The difficulty of arranging classes was so great that a good many of the students had scattered for the summer months. Mrs. Chaplin Ayrton, as well as Miss Bovell, was in Paris; Miss Massingberd Mundy and Miss Dahms had gone to Dr. Lucy Sewall at Boston, and Miss Pechey was working at the Lying-in Hospital in Endell Street.

The challenge of scheduling classes was so tough that many students had dispersed for the summer. Mrs. Chaplin Ayrton, along with Miss Bovell, was in Paris; Miss Massingberd Mundy and Miss Dahms had gone to Dr. Lucy Sewall in Boston, and Miss Pechey was working at the Lying-in Hospital on Endell Street.

“Oh, Lucy, I’m so tired of it all!” S. J.-B. had written to her friend a month or two before this. “When those children went to you a fortnight ago, I did so wish I could have gone and been rested and nursed for a few months!

“Oh, Lucy, I’m so tired of everything!” S. J.-B. had written to her friend a month or two before this. “When those kids went to you two weeks ago, I really wished I could have gone and been rested and taken care of for a few months!”

378But I’m sure you will see how utterly without choice I am,—that I must stay at my post as long as I can stand.

378But I'm sure you'll realize how completely I have no choice—I have to stay at my post for as long as I can manage.

But I am getting more and more doubtful whether I myself shall ever finish my education. I think when once the fight is won, I shall creep away into some wood and lie and sleep for a year.

But I'm getting more and more unsure whether I will ever finish my education. I think once the battle is over, I’ll sneak away into some woods and lie down to sleep for a year.

However all that is beside the question.”

However, that's not really the point.

A letter from Miss Pechey—written in September—takes a sterner tone than is her wont. After reporting about her work at Endell Street, she goes on:

A letter from Miss Pechey—written in September—takes a harsher tone than she usually does. After updating on her work at Endell Street, she continues:

“You have never told me how you are getting on with your exam. subjects; such silence is very ominous, and I’m afraid you haven’t been doing anything at them. You really must, if you intend to go up in October, for it is by no means child’s play getting up three such different subjects, and it would be simply awful if you went up and didn’t pass....”

“You've never mentioned how your exam subjects are going; your silence is quite concerning, and I worry you haven’t been putting in any effort. You really need to step it up if you plan to take them in October, as preparing for three such different subjects is no easy task, and it would be just awful if you went up and didn’t pass....”

Here the writer has obviously dried the ink, and sat looking at the space that remained, appalled, we may suppose, by the contingency she has called up.

Here, the writer has clearly dried the ink and is now staring at the empty space left, probably shocked by the possibility she has brought up.

“Don’t you like me to lecture you?” she concludes finally, and passes on to another subject.

“Don’t you want me to lecture you?” she finishes up finally, and moves on to another topic.

There certainly were not many people who dared to ‘lecture’ S. J.-B. The mingled love and fear with which her juniors (and not her juniors only) regarded her scarcely comes out in the correspondence, though one gets more than a glimpse of it in the following letter from one of the two who went to Boston, the humourist and enfant gâtée of the little circle:

There definitely weren’t many people who dared to ‘lecture’ S. J.-B. The mix of love and fear that her juniors (and not just her juniors) had for her doesn’t really come through in the correspondence, but you can catch a glimpse of it in the following letter from one of the two who went to Boston, the humorist and spoiled child of the small group:

“Dear Miss Pechey,

“Dear Ms. Pechey,

I write to you for several reasons, the one chiefly worth mentioning being that I want you to give some messages to Miss Jex-Blake, as, however busy you are, you are not likely to be so busy as she is, and therefore a letter is less waste of time to you. I believe though at the bottom of my heart that my real reason is that I am, even away from her, frightened of her. See how deep the feeling is. (The writer proceeds to relate a perfectly fantastic dream.)

I’m writing to you for a few reasons, but the main one is that I need you to pass on some messages to Miss Jex-Blake. Even though you're busy, I’m sure you’re not as busy as she is, so writing a letter is a better use of your time. However, I think the real reason I’m reaching out is that I’m actually scared of her, even when she’s not around. Just see how intense that feeling is. (The writer then goes on to share a completely bizarre dream.)

Miss Jex-Blake, as you know, has written to Dr. Sewall, advising me to stay in Boston this winter; the Dr. is so good as to say she will keep me with her, and I am quite willing to stay, so unless my father and mother object, that is settled....

Miss Jex-Blake, as you know, has written to Dr. Sewall, advising me to stay in Boston this winter; the doctor is kind enough to say she will keep me with her, and I’m totally fine with staying, so unless my parents object, that’s settled....

What joyful news that lawsuit news has been. I have had letters of rejoicing from many folks, but I declare I am chiefly glad 379for Miss Jex-Blake’s sake, and I hope now she sees some prospect of a quiet winter. Of course there is still much to do, but she has put a great piece of the road behind her. Is it not so? And I assure you the general question was becoming lost to sight by me in the particular one of her success and rest.

What great news that lawsuit update has been. I've received letters of celebration from many people, but I must say I'm especially happy for Miss Jex-Blake and I hope she can now look forward to a peaceful winter. There's still a lot to do, but she’s overcome a significant part of the journey. Isn’t that right? And I can honestly say that I was getting so focused on her success and rest that I was losing sight of the bigger picture.

If Miss Jex-Blake comments on my hand, tell her I do write my copies, I do remember her rules, and only fall into this style when a little tired as at present....

If Miss Jex-Blake makes a comment about my handwriting, let her know that I do write my copies, I do remember her rules, and I only end up writing like this when I’m a bit tired, like I am right now...

I have seen now Dr. Sewall use forceps three times, and it is impossible to see anything prettier.... She uses any sort of instrument beautifully. I should like to see her conduct some large operation. I think well-done surgery is fascinating, and I never saw anyone handle an instrument so easily and so securely. I should feel safe whatever she was going to do to me or mine....”

I’ve watched Dr. Sewall use forceps three times now, and it’s truly a sight to behold. She handles every kind of instrument with such skill. I’d love to see her perform a major surgery. I find well-executed surgery fascinating, and I’ve never seen anyone use an instrument with such ease and confidence. I’d feel completely safe with her taking care of me or my family.

Of course S. J.-B. saw the letter,—though the dream was a most audacious one—and it made her quite homesick for the old Boston life.

Of course S. J.-B. saw the letter, even though the dream was really bold—and it made her feel pretty nostalgic for her old life in Boston.

“Dearest Lucy,” she writes,

“Dear Lucy,” she writes,

“It“It is just a year since we parted, and I do so want to see you again. Miss —— makes me quite envious with her descriptions of her happiness in Boston and of the goodness of ‘my doctor.’ Will you come over with her in the spring?...

“It“It has only been a year since we said goodbye, and I really want to see you again. Miss —— makes me pretty jealous with her stories about her happiness in Boston and how great ‘my doctor’ is. Will you come over with her in the spring?...

I am just going to set hard to work for 5 weeks in preparation for my 1st Professional Exam., which comes off about October 22nd. It would never do for me to be plucked! In fact I shall not go in unless I feel pretty well prepared when the time comes. Please thank Miss Call for her note to me, and tell her I wish she could have come to Edinburgh.”

I’m going to buckle down and work hard for 5 weeks to prepare for my first Professional Exam, which is around October 22nd. There's no way I’m going to fail! In fact, I won’t even enter unless I feel really well prepared when the time comes. Please thank Miss Call for her note to me and let her know I wish she could have come to Edinburgh.

She did set to work hard, but events could scarcely be called propitious. On the strength of Lord Gifford’s judgment, she was renting a small house to serve as a medical school, arranging for the winter’s course of teaching; and, especially, trying to get an Anatomy lecturer recognized by a body of men, who—rightly or wrongly—did not mean to recognize him. Meanwhile editors showed themselves increasingly glad to get her work—journalistic work—not only on subjects connected with her special struggle, but about anything that called forth her gift for clear and incisive writing: and all the money she could earn in this way was not only welcome, but actually needed to keep things going. Although she was extraordinarily economical, as we have seen, her generosity 380and her large and businesslike way of dealing with things always gave the impression of larger means than she possessed; and many appealed to her for help who would have been amazed to learn how narrow her margin was.

She worked really hard, but things didn’t go very well. Relying on Lord Gifford’s opinion, she was renting a small house to use as a medical school, organizing the winter teaching schedule, and especially trying to get an Anatomy lecturer recognized by a group of men who—rightly or wrongly—had no intention of acknowledging him. In the meantime, editors were increasingly eager to publish her work—journalistic pieces—not just about the issues she passionately fought for, but on any topic that showcased her talent for clear and sharp writing. The money she earned from this was not only welcome, it was necessary to keep everything afloat. Even though she was incredibly frugal, as we’ve seen, her generosity and her practical approach often made it seem like she had more resources than she really did; many people reached out to her for help who would have been shocked to find out how tight her budget was.

“I am glad of both your articles,” writes Mr. Russel about this time, “but the beginnings of both are de trop.

“I appreciate both your articles,” Mr. Russel writes around this time, “but the beginnings of both are unnecessary.”

If I see a topic you would care to handle, I shall be prompt to let you know.”

If I come across a topic you might want to take on, I'll make sure to let you know right away.

“I am much obliged by your MS., which will duly appear as a leader tomorrow,” writes another editor.

“I really appreciate your manuscript, which will be featured as a lead article tomorrow,” writes another editor.

Her book, too, was exciting no small interest, and the consequent letters, enquiries and reviews ^[105]—very lengthy reviews in some cases—were a preoccupation in themselves. Any day might bring the opening up of a new vista.

Her book also generated a lot of interest, and the resulting letters, inquiries, and reviews ^[105]—some of which were very lengthy—became a concern in their own right. Any day could reveal a new opportunity.

“Sept, 11th.

Darling Mother,

Dear Mom,

I have but a moment to send you a piece of news that I know will be very welcome, viz, that A Scotchman resident in India called on me last night, asked how matters were progressing, said the battle was being gallantly fought, and departed after stating mildly that he would send us ‘a thousand pounds at once and more if needed,’ that the fight might not fail for want of money! The money is worth a great deal, but the moral effect is almost more, as the man is an absolute stranger and cares simply for the principle.

I only have a moment to share some news that I know you’ll appreciate: a Scottish man living in India visited me last night. He asked about how things were going and mentioned that the battle was being bravely fought. Before he left, he casually said he would send us “a thousand pounds right away, and more if needed,” so that the fight doesn’t fail for lack of funds! The money is certainly valuable, but the moral support is even more significant since this guy is a complete stranger and is just invested in the cause.

Probably now we shall get a lot more.

Probably now we'll get a lot more.

Yours lovingly,

Sophisticated.

His name is Walter Thomson, he had just read my book. (Not a bad 2s. 6d. worth, was it?)”

His name is Walter Thomson, and he just read my book. (Not a bad 2s. 6d. worth, right?)

It is impossible to exaggerate the reverence—“respect” is too weak a word—with which S. J.-B. throughout life treated the money that came to her in this way. It was infinitely more precious to her than possessions of her own: and the amount of the donation made no difference. If it 381was not to be used immediately, it was invested with the greatest care and forethought; every penny was strictly accounted for; and no farthing expended on administration, or on any kind of work involved (railway journeys and so forth), was allowed to come out of the fund itself. There never were any “working expenses.” All that was done for love.

It's impossible to overstate the deep respect—“respect” feels like too weak a word—with which S. J.-B. treated the money that came to her throughout her life. It was far more valuable to her than her own possessions, and the size of the donation didn’t matter. If it wasn't being used right away, it was invested with meticulous care and planning; every penny was carefully tracked, and no amount spent on administration or any related activities (like train trips and so on) was taken from the fund itself. There were never any “working expenses.” Everything was done out of love.

More gifts on this scale did not follow forthwith, but her lecture and the book that followed it were bringing in a return that was worth even more. They were arousing interest among men who might be able to assist the cause in a bigger way than had yet suggested itself.

More gifts of this magnitude didn't come right away, but her lecture and the book that came after it were generating a return that was even more valuable. They were sparking interest among men who might be able to support the cause in a much bigger way than had been considered before.

“I wonder,” writes Miss Wolstenholme, “whether you are aware how deeply interested Mr. Stansfeld is in your question, and how warmly disposed to help you by legislation or in any other way.”^[106]

“I wonder,” writes Miss Wolstenholme, “if you know how deeply Mr. Stansfeld is interested in your question and how eager he is to help you through legislation or any other means.”^[106]

There follow a number of suggestions as to the amendment of the Medical Act of 1858.

Here are some suggestions for changing the Medical Act of 1858.

Meanwhile the University had appealed to the Inner House against Lord Gifford’s judgment, and—after hanging fire for long months—the case at this juncture became imminent.

Meanwhile, the University had appealed to the Inner House against Lord Gifford’s ruling, and—after being delayed for months—the case was now approaching a critical point.

It was in the midst of all this that preparation for the professional examination went on.

It was during all of this that the preparations for the professional exam took place.

Of course the task ought not to have been a formidable one. S. J.-B. had done excellent class-work in the subjects required, and they had been simmering in her mind for years; but everyone who has watched the career of many students knows that that man stands the best chance of acquitting himself well who, having got his subject up, goes in for the examination straightway, before the natural process of selection and assimilation in his own mind emphasizes this item and discards that, as the case may be. The knowledge one wants for an examination is not the knowledge that becomes one’s working equipment for life.

Of course, the task shouldn't have been too challenging. S. J.-B. had done really well in the necessary subjects, and they had been on her mind for years. But anyone who's observed the journeys of many students knows that the best chance for someone to perform well is to take the exam right after they’ve studied, before their mind starts to filter and prioritize different information. The knowledge you need for an exam isn’t the same as the knowledge that becomes useful in real life.

The “last straw” for S. J.-B. was the distressing illness of a very dear friend in the course of those five precious weeks, 382and finally we come without surprise to the following entry in the diary:

The “last straw” for S. J.-B. was the upsetting illness of a very close friend during those five valuable weeks, 382and finally we reach the following entry in the diary without any surprise:

“Sunday, Oct. 6th. Rather out of heart. I can’t get courage or sense for the Organic Chemistry, and must leave it till E. P. comes; and the Botany seems so desperately voluminous! My head seems tired,—I can’t make it work more than an hour or so at a time,... But somehow my fatalism makes me think I shall get through, when E. P. comes and quiets me,—she comes Thursday, 10th.”

“Sunday, Oct. 6th. Feeling pretty down. I can’t find the motivation or focus for Organic Chemistry, so I’ll just wait until E. P. arrives; and Botany looks ridiculously overwhelming! My mind feels exhausted—I can’t concentrate for more than an hour at a time,... But for some reason, my belief that I’ll get through this keeps me going, especially when E. P. comes and calms me down—she’s arriving Thursday, 10th.”

“Oct. 11th. I’ve had such bother about Anatomy rooms, etc., and shall have to organize about Fund, etc.

“Oct. 11th. I’ve had so much trouble with the Anatomy rooms and I need to figure out the details about the Fund, among other things."

Things seem to crowd on me so. And other people get such nice long holidays!—oh, dear! Well, as Robertson says, everything has its price....

Things feel so overwhelming for me. And other people get such nice long vacations!—oh, dear! Well, as Robertson says, everything has its price....

Then H. [the Anatomy teacher]. The Court refused him flat on Monday, on ground of ‘no evidence of qualification’! He on Tuesday is to send in his diplomas and other testimonials, and I have to get them copied and printed, etc.

Then H. [the Anatomy teacher]. The Court outright rejected him on Monday, claiming there was ‘no evidence of qualification’! He’s supposed to submit his diplomas and other credentials on Tuesday, and I need to get them copied and printed, etc.

My own Botany stuck fast,—I nervous and shaky again,—feeling strength go out of me drop by drop.

My own Botany was stuck again—I was feeling nervous and shaky, as I felt my strength draining away bit by bit.

If only the 22nd were well over!

If only the 22nd were finally over!

E. P. came back yesterday, dear child,—so loving and good.”

E. P. came back yesterday, dear child—so loving and kind.

At this point S. J.-B. breaks off to record the—very indifferent—achievements of the new students in their preliminary examination!

At this point, S. J.-B. stops to note the—very unimpressive—results of the new students in their initial exam!

“Oct. 22nd. Professional Exam.... Did good paper in Nat. Hist.,—fair in Chemistry, poor in Botany. Went down to Falkirk to sleep.^[107]

“Oct. 22nd. Professional Exam.... Did a good job on the Nat. Hist. paper, fair in Chemistry, and poor in Botany. Went down to Falkirk to sleep.^[107]

“Oct. 23rd. Came up for Practical Chemistry Exam. White Millar met me and worried me for [law] papers. Head dazed,—Crum Brown let me up [? off] till another day.”

“Oct. 23rd. Came up for the Practical Chemistry Exam. White Millar met me and stressed me out about the law papers. My head was spinning—Crum Brown let me off until another day.”

Well, there is no use in “spinning out the agony.” S. J.-B. was rejected in her examination. With a mental endowment obviously far above the average in either sex, she found herself, after all these years of study,—so far as any practical result was concerned—absolutely at the foot of the ladder. She had nothing whatever to show for her work: she had failed in a test that almost any schoolboy can pass,—and the eye of the civilized world was upon her.

Well, there's no point in “dragging out the pain.” S. J.-B. was rejected in her exam. With intelligence clearly well above average for either gender, she found herself, after all these years of studying—at least in terms of any practical outcome—completely at the bottom of the ladder. She had nothing to show for her efforts: she had failed a test that almost any schoolboy can pass, and the eyes of the civilized world were on her.

There is no denying that it was bad to bear, and the tragic 383part of the matter was that she could not bring herself to believe that—in the subject of Natural History at all events—her paper had been fairly treated. So many petty difficulties had been thrown in her way all along, so little magnanimity had been shown her by some of those in authority, that her fighting instinct rose almost automatically to the encounter. What could this be but simply one effort more on the part of the enemy to defeat her per omne fas et nefas?^[108]

There’s no doubt it was tough to handle, and the worst part was that she couldn’t convince herself that—at least in the subject of Natural History—her paper had been treated fairly. So many small obstacles had been put in her way all along, and there had been so little generosity shown to her by some of those in power, that her instinct to fight kicked in almost automatically. What else could this be but another attempt by the opposition to take her down by any means necessary?^[108]

About this time Professor Huxley seems to have expressed to some mutual friend his sympathy with the women students; he had refused—quite definitely, but with obvious regret—to come to their assistance by examining their proposed Anatomy lecturer ^[109] when the University of Edinburgh refused to do so; and Miss Pechey now took upon herself the difficult task of asking his opinion upon the Natural History paper. It was a great venture from every point of view, and certainly shows how confident S. J.-B. was in her view of the case.

Around this time, Professor Huxley seem to have shared his support for the women students with a mutual friend; he had definitely, though with noticeable regret, declined to help by evaluating their proposed Anatomy lecturer ^[109] when the University of Edinburgh refused to do so. Miss Pechey then took on the challenging task of seeking his opinion on the Natural History paper. It was a significant undertaking from every angle and clearly demonstrates how confident S. J.-B. was in her perspective on the matter.

“Vor den Wissenden sich stellen—” is an admirable motto, but the standard of examination in Natural History in Edinburgh at that time was certainly not the standard demanded by London now, and many a creditable Edinburgh student of those days might have cause to congratulate himself that he was not examined by Huxley.

“Stand before the knowledgeable—” is a commendable motto, but the level of assessment in Natural History in Edinburgh back then was definitely not on par with the standards expected in London today, and many respectable Edinburgh students from that time could feel relieved that they weren't assessed by Huxley.

“He was very kind about it,” writes Miss Pechey, “and I had a long talk with him. He thought it would be difficult for H. to get anyone to examine him, as even Ellis would not like to constitute himself an examiner. I think he has rather altered his idea of the honesty, etc., of the Edinr. Professors, but he said such conduct was inexplicable to him. However, although I expect he thought I’I’ was giving him a one-sided statement, I think he considers us the aggrieved party.

“He was really nice about it,” writes Miss Pechey, “and I had a long conversation with him. He thought it would be tough for H. to find anyone to examine him, as even Ellis wouldn’t want to be the examiner. I think he has changed his views on the honesty, etc., of the Edinr. Professors, but he said such behavior was beyond his understanding. However, even though I believe he thought II’ was giving him a one-sided account, I think he sees us as the wronged party.

At first he would not look at the papers, but when he had asked me about them, he said he would look over the Natural History, and although he was very kind about it, his verdict was unfavourable. Of course I have no doubt that they would have passed a man on your paper, but still you must have them extra good before you can make any fuss about it....

At first, he didn’t want to look at the papers, but after he asked me about them, he said he would check out the Natural History. Even though he was very nice about it, his opinion wasn’t good. I’m sure that a man would have approved your paper, but still, you need to make it really good before you can make a big deal out of it...

384I hope you won’t worry yourself about the papers, as I hope we shall have plenty of leisure so that we can go over the subjects again in a proper way: it would have been a wonder if you could have passed in the midst of all that worry.... God bless you, darling.”

384I hope you won’t stress about the papers, as I’m sure we’ll have plenty of free time to revisit the topics properly: it would have been amazing if you could have succeeded with all that stress.... God bless you, darling.”

As we know S. J.-B. had more worries on hand than the sore question of her examination papers. The Appeal in the famous case of Miss Jex-Blake v. the Senatus was really before the Court of Session now, and she was “up till past 12 revising the proofs” for the daily papers.

As we know, S. J.-B. had more on her plate than just the stressful issue of her exam papers. The appeal in the well-known case of Miss Jex-Blake v. the Senatus was actually now being heard by the Court of Session, and she was "up until after midnight revising the proofs" for the daily papers.

“Sunday, Nov. 3rd. Word from E. P. (who went to London Wednesday) that Huxley didn’t approve my Nat. Hist. paper. So fight for ‘pluck’ given up.

“Sunday, Nov. 3rd. I got word from E. P. (who went to London on Wednesday) that Huxley didn’t approve my Nat. Hist. paper. So the fight for ‘pluck’ is off.”

Poor Nelly O’B. lost her father a few weeks ago.”

Poor Nelly O’B. lost her dad a few weeks ago.

Apparently she wrote to report progress to her brother the same day.

Apparently, she wrote to update her brother on her progress the same day.

“The College,

Cheltenham. Nov. 4. 1872.

My dear Sophy,

You have come to the right decision without a doubt. Probably they were sharp upon you, but to prove injustice in an examiner is a hopeless task. They are evidently very bitter, and apparently not scrupulous; but to my mind that was not the point; for, in writing to you ^[110] I had only to consider what was the wise course for you; and it seemed to be exactly what I advised and what you have done.

You’ve definitely made the right choice. They may have been hard on you, but trying to show unfairness in an examiner is an impossible task. They are clearly very resentful and seem to lack integrity; however, that wasn’t the main issue for me. When writing to you ^[110], I only had to think about what would be the best path for you, and it seemed to align perfectly with what I recommended and what you ended up doing.

I am very sorry, and so is Hetty, for the mishap and the loss of time: but you can turn it to benefit: and all’s well that ends well, as your cause will end certainly.

I’m really sorry, and Hetty is too, about the accident and the wasted time: but you can make the best of it: and everything will be fine in the end, as your cause will definitely succeed.

Your affectionate brother,

T. W. J.-B.”

“The Elms.

Monday, 4th November.

My precious Darling,

My dear Darling,

I am not all surprised, and so glad to hear that there is another opportunity in April. I had said I had no doubt they would floor you if they could. Your mind and time have been so engrossed that you cannot be very angry with yourself. I quite think I have felt for you more than you have for yourself....”

I’m not really surprised, and I’m so happy to hear there’s another opportunity in April. I mentioned before that I was sure they would overwhelm you if they had the chance. You’ve been so consumed with your thoughts and time that you probably can’t be too hard on yourself. I honestly believe I’ve felt more for you than you have for yourself....

[The dear old Mother, with the sword in her heart!]

[The beloved Mother, with the sword in her heart!]

“I am getting on so nicely here. I hope you will not have any lawyers to consult with about other pressing matters, nor articles 385to write when you take up study for April. I shall like to know when you begin (probably not till February) that I may ask help where it is promised to be given. I hope my darling has a little breathing time now, and will take every care of herself, as I will of her baby.

“I’m doing really well here. I hope you won’t need to consult any lawyers about other urgent issues, nor will you have articles 385 to write when you start studying in April. I’d love to know when you begin (probably not until February) so I can ask for help where it’s been offered. I hope my dear is getting a bit of a break now and will take good care of herself, just as I will take care of her baby.”

Ever your loving Mummy,

Maria Emily Jex-Blake.

It is best for me to write little.”

It’s best for me to write less.

Henry J. Wells 1862
Emery Walker ph. sc.

Maria Emily Jex-Blake
from a drawing in chalks by H. T. Wells R.A. 1862

Maria Emily Jex-Blake
from a chalk drawing by H. T. Wells R.A. 1862

Meanwhile enquiries poured in on every side. The following paragraph appeared in a well-known Weekly:

Meanwhile, inquiries came in from all directions. The following paragraph was published in a popular weekly:

“The question of the admission of Women to medical degrees in Edinburgh University has been rather unexpectedly solved, at least for the present. Miss Jex-Blake, a foremost champion of the movement, has actually been ‘plucked’ in her examination and sent back to complete her scientific studies.”

“The issue of admitting women to medical degrees at Edinburgh University has been resolved, at least for now, in a rather unexpected way. Miss Jex-Blake, a leading advocate for the cause, has actually failed her exam and has been told to go back and finish her scientific studies.”

This paragraph was cut out and sent to S. J.-B. by other papers and by many individuals as well, with a request for an explanation, or, as they graciously put it, “for the means of authoritatively contradicting it.”

This paragraph was removed and sent to S. J.-B. by other publications and many individuals, asking for clarification, or as they politely phrased it, “for the means of authoritatively contradicting it.”

Norfolk cousins who had been mildly loyal and sympathetic at a distance, were roused to positive incredulity. The delightful Sarah of the girlhood reverts to the old affection and the old playful names:

Norfolk cousins who had been somewhat loyal and sympathetic from afar were stirred to outright disbelief. The charming Sarah from their childhood returns to the old affection and the playful nicknames:

“Wimbledon.

Dec. 14th.

Dear Old Man,

Dear Grandpa,

I want you to write and tell me all about yourself, and why you did not pass your examinations. There must be a reason why you did not. I want you to tell me, for I hear all sorts of things, and want to know the truth. Send me a Scotch paper about you, for I never see anything in the English papers for or against you—only facts [!]...

I want you to write and share everything about yourself and why you didn’t pass your exams. There has to be a reason for it. I want you to tell me because I hear all sorts of things and want to know the truth. Send me a detailed note about yourself, since I never see anything in the English papers for or against you—only facts!

Write to me like a good man.

Write to me like a decent person.

Ever your affectionate,

S. J.-B.”

Yes, things were pretty black. So black that one is not in the least surprised to hear that at this time Miss M‘Laren decided to throw in her lot with the women students. Retiring and delicate though she was, the following letter written on 386one of her propagandist Suffrage tours, is evidence that she brought sufficient moral grit to the new life:

Yes, things were really bad. So bad that it's not at all surprising to learn that at this time, Miss M'Laren decided to join the women students. Although she was shy and delicate, the following letter written during one of her campaigning Suffrage tours shows that she had enough moral strength for her new life:

“Strachie, [?] Argyllshire.

Nov. 10th. 1872.

I wish so much that you could have joined us yesterday by balloon, so as to have had this delicious day in the country,—besides the pleasure of being together. The pure air would have refreshed you very much,—and it is so lovely. Yesterday it rained in torrents.... I was so glad you were not with us, for I found I had promised more than I could perform,—only a pleasant drive of two hours! Imagine our horror when we found that the steamer advertised to sail from Helensburgh to Dunoon was broken down and could not go,—and we were told that it would be impossible for us to manage the journey. Of course we had to find out a way to go, and it was to drive 3 miles, then to ferry, then to drive 4 miles, then to catch a steamer, then to have the 2 hours’ drive originally expected! ... and only to reach this at 7—half an hour after hour of meeting!

I really wish you could have joined us yesterday by balloon so we could enjoy this beautiful day in the countryside together. The fresh air would have been so refreshing for you—it's just lovely. Yesterday, it poured rain... I was really relieved you weren't with us because I realized I had promised more than I could actually deliver—just a nice two-hour drive! Can you imagine our shock when we discovered that the boat that was supposed to leave from Helensburgh to Dunoon was broken down and wouldn’t go? They told us it would be impossible for us to make the trip. Of course, we had to figure out a way to get there, so we decided to drive 3 miles, then take a ferry, then drive 4 more miles, then catch a steamer, and finally have the 2-hour drive we had originally planned! ... and we only arrived at 7—half an hour after our meeting time!

It was out of the question to put meeting off, for there was no telegraph, and the people had come 6, 8, or 9 miles. They knew something must have happened to delay us, and waited patiently. We had to hurry to the meeting, and found a large schoolhouse crowded with people, and some half dozen dogs, and dimly lighted by 8 candles! It was so funny! And they were so enthusiastic....

It was not an option to postpone the meeting, since there was no telegraph, and people had come 6, 8, or 9 miles. They understood something must have delayed us, so they waited patiently. We had to rush to the meeting and found a large schoolhouse packed with people, along with a few dogs, and dimly lit by 8 candles! It was so funny! And they were so enthusiastic...

I have been thinking a great deal about joining you, and the conclusion I have come to is to tell Papa and Mama that I would like to try to study if they would give their consent.

I’ve been thinking a lot about joining you, and I’ve decided to tell Mom and Dad that I’d like to try studying if they’re okay with it.

If I felt I had a vocation for medicine, it would make me bolder, but you know that I cannot honestly plead that. On the contrary I have very grave doubts of my capacity for it, especially for the preliminary years of study, and they might very probably prove to be lost years....

If I thought I had a calling for medicine, it would make me more confident, but I can't honestly say that I do. On the contrary, I have serious doubts about my ability to pursue it, especially during the early years of study, and those years might very well end up being wasted....

No, the attractions to me would be a definite sphere, and an independent one, and being associated with you in work of any kind.

No, what draws me would definitely be a separate space, one that's independent, and the chance to work with you on anything.

It would be a great happiness to me to be with you, and to believe that I was a help to you however small.

It would mean so much to me to be with you and to feel like I could help you in any way, no matter how small.

But then, I cannot but believe that you must before long have the greater help of having Miss Du Pre with you, and, in the meantime, till she can come, you may be sure I will be as much as possible with you.”

But I really believe that soon you'll have the extra support of having Miss Du Pre with you, and until she can get here, you can count on me to be with you as much as possible.

A delightful correspondence ensued between Miss M‘Laren and Miss Du Pre, who knew each other but slightly:

A charming exchange happened between Miss M‘Laren and Miss Du Pre, who were only slightly acquainted:

“As you cannot be with Sophy,” writes Miss M‘Laren, “I would like very much to be with her, for she does really deserve all the help 387she can get when she has so much to do.... It would, as you know, be a great happiness to me to be with her, but I would not mind for myself at all. If you could only be with her, I would be quite happy not to be, feeling that it was not right for me to risk making family discomfort, just for myself. What do you honestly think? I would not of course think of troubling you about my concerns except as they concern Sophy.”

“As you can't be with Sophy,” Miss M‘Laren writes, “I would really love to be with her, because she truly deserves all the help she can get with everything she has to do.... It would bring me a lot of happiness to be with her, but I wouldn’t mind for myself at all. If you could only be with her, I would be completely happy not to be, knowing that it wouldn't be right for me to create family tension just for my own sake. What do you honestly think? I wouldn’t think of bothering you about my worries unless they relate to Sophy.”

“All my instincts are against causing family sorrow and trouble,” writes Miss Du Pre in reply. “... but I cannot but think that in your case the trouble would not be permanent.

“All my instincts are against causing family sorrow and trouble,” writes Miss Du Pre in reply. “... but I can't help but think that in your case, the trouble wouldn't be permanent.

I think myself that studying new and difficult sciences and trying to help Sophy at the same time would be more than your strength would stand,—at least I know I could not do it myself. Though, on the other hand, it might be still more difficult to study at home where all sorts of family habits and calls upon one’s time make it so hard to do anything thoroughly.

I think that studying new and challenging subjects while also trying to help Sophy would be more than you could handle—at least I know I couldn't do it myself. However, on the flip side, it might be even harder to study at home where all kinds of family routines and demands on your time make it really tough to focus on anything completely.

I believe, if I were you, I would try to wear away by degrees the opposition of my parents, perhaps by going to help Sophy for a month or so, and then coming home again, being willing in the meantime to be present at any dinner party when they particularly needed my help, etc. I do think that people hate a plan so much less when the thought of it is no longer new and startling to them.... I cannot express to you how glad I shall be if you can see it to be right to go to Sophy, for I think your presence and help are exactly what she needs and needs sorely too. But you must not think that I only care about it for her sake, for it would be a great pleasure to me to think that you were enjoying her company and friendship.”

I think if I were in your position, I would try to gradually soften my parents' opposition, maybe by going to help Sophy for a month or so and then coming back home. In the meantime, I’d be willing to attend any dinner parties when they really need my help, etc. I believe people dislike a plan much less once the idea isn’t new and shocking to them anymore... I can’t express how happy I’ll be if you see it as the right thing to do to go to Sophy, because I believe your presence and support are exactly what she desperately needs. But don’t think I only care about this for her sake; it would also bring me great joy to know you’re enjoying her company and friendship.”

Of course Miss M‘Laren carried her point, and, if she never quite succeeded in persuading herself of her “vocation,” she left a large clientèle of patients in no doubt at all upon the subject.

Of course, Miss M'Laren got her way, and even if she never fully convinced herself of her "calling," she left a significant clients of patients with no doubt about it.

388

CHAPTER XVI
END OF THE BATTLE IN EDINBURGH

The year 1873 is not one of the most dramatic in the history, but no other has a more impressive record of work done, of resolute determination to try every door, and to keep on trying.

The year 1873 might not be one of the most dramatic in history, but none other has a more impressive record of work accomplished, a strong determination to explore every option, and to keep on trying.

It was becoming increasingly clear that—whatever the immediate issue of the lawsuit might be—a wider appeal must be made. Even S. J.-B. began to see that “no decision in our favour can give us the good will of the Medical Faculty”; and Mr. Stansfeld’s warm and appreciative interest in the question seemed to open a new door of hope. From this time forward the recurrence of his fine clear handwriting in the correspondence (brief though his letters are) is a constant reminder of how “Providence rescues and saves His elect inheritance” as “the dear Newman” would have said, though in another connection.

It was becoming increasingly clear that—no matter what the immediate issue of the lawsuit was—a broader appeal needed to be made. Even S. J.-B. started to recognize that “no decision in our favor can earn us the goodwill of the Medical Faculty”; and Mr. Stansfeld’s warm and appreciative interest in the matter seemed to open a new door of hope. From this point on, the appearance of his clear handwriting in the correspondence (brief as his letters are) serves as a constant reminder of how “Providence rescues and saves His elect inheritance,” as “the dear Newman” would have put it, though in a different context.

Mr. Stansfeld knew Professor Masson well, and probably began his acquaintance with S. J.-B. in no ignorance of her défauts,—the défauts that made so many timorous; but, like Masson, he was a strong man; like Masson he thought Carlyle was right in holding that “on the whole we make too much of faults”; and to the end of the long history he rejoiced wholeheartedly in the magnificent acumen and strength of Sophia Jex-Blake.

Mr. Stansfeld knew Professor Masson well and likely started his acquaintance with S. J.-B. aware of her flaws—the flaws that intimidated so many. However, like Masson, he was a strong individual; like Masson, he believed Carlyle was right when he said, “overall, we make too much of faults.” Throughout the long history, he wholeheartedly celebrated the remarkable insight and strength of Sophia Jex-Blake.

S. J.-B. had made his acquaintance at the time of her lecture, and now, after some little correspondence, she saw him again, and received his introduction to some of his colleagues.

S. J.-B. had met him during her lecture, and now, after a bit of exchanging messages, she saw him again and was introduced to some of his colleagues.

389We quote from diary:

We quote from the diary:

“Dec. 10th [1872] To London. At Cordery’s till 13th.

“Dec. 10th [1872] To London. At Cordery’s until the 13th.”

11th Wednesday. Saw Stansfeld at Whitehall. Then Simon, who, though not very sanguine as to value of women doctors, is quite clear they must have a chance. Suggests that the Colleges could not refuse to examine us. Lord Ripon also kindly,—quite inclined to make Medical Act as dependent as possible on Registration. Lowe marvellously civil. Very glad to see me, was quite clear it was a case for legislation. If we lost the lawsuit, he would consult with Stansfeld, and do all he could.

11th Wednesday. Met Stansfeld at Whitehall. Then I saw Simon, who, although not very optimistic about the value of women doctors, is certain they deserve a chance. He suggests that the Colleges could not deny us an examination. Lord Ripon was also very kind—he’s quite willing to make the Medical Act as dependent as possible on Registration. Lowe was unexpectedly polite. He was really pleased to see me and was convinced that this is a matter for legislation. If we lose the lawsuit, he would consult with Stansfeld and do everything he could.

Tuesday, 17th. (Dear old man’s birthday,—would have been 82!) To Yaxham. Mother fairly well.

Tuesday, 17th. (Dear old man's birthday—would have been 82!) To Yaxham. Mom is doing fairly well.

For next 10 days stayed much in bed, read Gil Blas, etc., in utter dearth of books. Worried by letters and telegrams from Edinburgh.

For the next 10 days, I mostly stayed in bed and read Gil Blas and other things, as I had very few books. I was stressed by letters and telegrams from Edinburgh.

Thursday 26th. Started back for Edinburgh. Carriage to myself whole way. Arrived

Thursday 26th. Started back to Edinburgh. Had a carriage all to myself the entire way. Arrived

Friday 6 a.m. Slept an hour or two. Then 4 hours’ cab and canvassing; and so on for next week.”

Friday 6 a.m. Slept for an hour or two. Then 4 hours of driving and campaigning; and that will continue for the next week.

“Monday, Jan. 6th. 1873. Infirmary meeting. We apparently beaten by 279 to 271—pending scrutiny. Turner and Lister waved hats and hurrahed!”

“Monday, Jan. 6th. 1873. Infirmary meeting. We seemed to have lost by 279 to 271—pending review. Turner and Lister waved their hats and cheered!”

“Feb. 10th. The piety of the Infirmary Managers actually obliged them to turn us out of Sunday visit, at least ‘for the present.’ Cowan ^[111] delightfully indignant for once at ‘breach of faith’.

“Feb. 10th. The managers of the infirmary were actually forced by their sense of duty to make us leave during the Sunday visit, at least ‘for now.’ Cowan ^[111] was delightfully outraged this time at the ‘breach of faith.’

Feb. 16th. He went to Infirmary during Sunday visit; and went away, telling Mrs. Thorne oracularly that ‘he had seen quite enough for his purpose’.

Feb. 16th. He went to the Infirmary during the Sunday visit and left, telling Mrs. Thorne in a mysterious tone that ‘he had seen quite enough for his purpose’.

Feb. 17th. Monday. He made a tremendous row at Managers’ Meeting. Said that the previous day he had visited the wards and ‘had never seen a more truly Christian, more truly Sabbatic sight, than the ladies at the sick-beds.’ By 10 to 6 votes in again.”

Feb. 17th. Monday. He raised a huge fuss at the Managers' Meeting. He said that the day before, he had gone to the wards and "had never seen a more genuinely Christian, more truly Sabbath-like sight than the women at the sickbeds." By a vote of 10 to 6, it was decided again.

Such were the ups and downs of daily life.

Such were the highs and lows of everyday life.

The question was raised at this time of having one or more women on the School Board, and S. J.-B. took up the matter enthusiastically. It was useless to remind her that she had more than enough on her hands already. Here was a matter in which she really could serve. And a great occasion it proved. Even those who were children at the time have not forgotten the wild excitement in Edinburgh over that election, 390and the lift given to the whole woman movement when the two lady candidates—Miss Phoebe Blyth and Miss Flora Stevenson—appeared on the list second only to the Roman Catholic priest, who had, of course, all the suffrages of the faithful.

The question came up about having one or more women on the School Board, and S. J.-B. got really into it. It was pointless to remind her that she already had plenty on her plate. This was something where she could really make a difference. It turned out to be a significant moment. Even those who were kids back then remember the intense excitement in Edinburgh during that election, and how it boosted the entire women’s movement when the two female candidates—Miss Phoebe Blyth and Miss Flora Stevenson—were listed right after the Roman Catholic priest, who naturally had all the support from the faithful. 390

“You and Miss Blake must have half killed yourselves in getting a Committee with such names as you have,” Miss Blyth had written.

“You and Miss Blake must have nearly exhausted yourselves putting together

“If you and Miss M‘Laren had not gone in so strongly for my interests,” wrote Miss Stevenson, “I should have found myself very much lower.”

“If you and Miss M‘Laren hadn’t stepped up for my interests so much,” wrote Miss Stevenson, “I would have found myself very much worse off.”

So perhaps it was worth while, for the place taken by the women on the list was a weapon of good fighting force for the future.

So maybe it was worth it, because the position the women held on the list was a strong tool for fighting for the future.

It was a helpful distraction too for S. J.-B. herself, and at that moment the constant pressure of unsatisfactory difficulties and worries—some few of these latter, of course, created by herself—was very wearisome. Always something trying to do, and never anything to show for it,—that was the record of her life at the time. Here is a heart cry such as one seldom gets from her now:

It was a helpful distraction for S. J.-B. herself, and at that moment, the ongoing pressure of frustrating challenges and worries—some, of course, caused by her own actions—was very exhausting. There was always something to do, but never anything to show for it—that summed up her life at that time. Here is a heartfelt expression that isn’t often heard from her nowadays:

“Sunday, May 18th.—Oh, dear!—for some brightness and freshness and pleasure to break the long grey wait and work!—Nothing’s wrong,—I’m fairly well, and by no means unhappy. I’ve the real essentials of happiness,—love and work,—but the fruition of both seems so far away!

“Sunday, May 18th.—Oh, dear!—I wish for some brightness, freshness, and joy to break the long, dull wait and work!—Nothing’s wrong,—I’m doing fine and not unhappy at all. I have the true essentials of happiness,—love and work,—but the fulfillment of both feels so far away!

And I want 3 or 4 days of bright sunshine,—rides and drives, ices and champagne!—easy luxurious life for a few days’ change.

And I want 3 or 4 days of bright sunshine—rides and drives, ice cream and champagne!—a relaxed, luxurious life for a few days of change.

Ah, well! Some day I hope to have just such a bright easy home or nest somewhere—and to find brain and body workers to take to it for the 3 or 4 days’ rest and change! How one needs to experience needs in order to understand them!”

Ah, well! One day I hope to have a bright, cozy home or nest somewhere—and to find thinkers and doers to bring there for a 3 or 4-day break and change of scenery! How much we need to experience needs in order to really understand them!

There are some perhaps who will read this entry with no little feeling when they remember how, long years after, she realized this ideal in the home of her retirement, Windydene.^[112]

There are some who might read this entry with a strong sense of nostalgia when they remember how, many years later, she achieved this ideal in her retirement home, Windydene.^[112]

391But the saving sense of humour was never less than dormant. She seldom has time to quote jokes in the diary now, but here is the very next entry:

391But her sense of humor was always just below the surface. She hardly has time to jot down jokes in the diary anymore, but here's the very next entry:

“May 23rd. From Life of Barham. Dr. Thos. Hume charged 7s. 6d. instead of 5s. for death notice, because of ‘universally beloved and deeply regretted.’ To surly clerk,—'Congratulate yourself, Sir, that this is an expense to which your Executors will never be put!’”

“May 23rd. From Life of Barham. Dr. Thos. Hume charged 7s. 6d. instead of 5s. for the death notice, because of ‘universally beloved and deeply regretted.’ To the grumpy clerk, — 'Be glad, Sir, that this is a cost your Executors will never have to cover!’”

The mood was not quite evanescent, however, for the anxious Mother reads it between the lines:

The mood wasn't entirely fleeting, though, as the worried Mother picks up on it in the subtext:

“13 Sussex Square,

28 May.

Darling,

Babe,

I fear you were very weary when you wrote; Mother’s heart is constantly with her little one, and yearning for some little word of her health or her interests. Though I don’t want to be selfish and have her write often,—when she does write she must mention herself and how she is getting on.

I worry you were really tired when you wrote; a mother's heart is always with her little one, longing for any news about their health or interests. Even though I don't want to be selfish and ask her to write often, when she does write, she needs to say something about herself and how she's doing.

H. [a former maid] is paying me a little visit. She looks very poorly and she jumped at my offer to come here for a week.... She asked about you, and I lent her your book. She wishes enough there were a lady doctor for her to consult.

H. [a former maid] is paying me a little visit. She looks really unwell and eagerly accepted my invitation to stay here for a week.... She asked about you, and I lent her your book. She wishes there were a lady doctor for her to see.

Ever your loving Mummy,

M. E. J.-B.”

One is glad to know that the women students were having a course of lectures on Medical Jurisprudence from Dr. (afterwards Sir Henry) Littlejohn that term,—with all the delightful excursions, topographical and mental, which that course involved. No one who has had the privilege of the same experience can regard the history of that summer as a trial without compensation.

It's nice to know that the women students were taking a course on Medical Jurisprudence from Dr. (later Sir Henry) Littlejohn that term, along with all the enjoyable outings, both educational and experiential, that the course included. Anyone who has been fortunate enough to have the same experience can't see the events of that summer as a challenge without rewards.

Meanwhile the lawsuit was dragging its weary course. One cannot be surprised that the University should have appealed against Lord Gifford’s decision. If appeal be made to law at all, one must get the last word of the law,—especially if, 392in the last resort, public funds are available to pay for it. There were still lurking possibilities in that little word “vir,” and it might yet be shown that the University had done an illegal thing when it admitted the women in the first instance. If that proved to be so—and it was the crux of the whole case—the University (so it was argued) must be held excused from all responsibility towards the women students themselves.

Meanwhile, the lawsuit was dragging on. It's not surprising that the University appealed Lord Gifford’s decision. If you’re going to go to court, you want to have the final word from the law—especially when public funds are on the line to cover the costs. There were still hidden implications in that little word “vir,” and it might turn out that the University acted illegally by admitting the women in the first place. If that was the case—and it was the crux of the whole matter—then the University (as argued) should be excused from any responsibility toward the women students themselves.

But, if one refrains from blaming the University, one cannot sufficiently admire the behaviour of the women students as a whole during those trying days of uncertainty. While the younger members of the little band were pursuing their education where and how they could, the seniors were striving on every hand to find some open door or to unlock one that was closed. Birmingham was at least discussed, with its possibilities; St. Andrews, Durham, and the various centres in Ireland were visited and worked diplomatically, and for a time not without apparent prospect of success. It is pathetic to go through the endless reams of correspondence—vital once with hopes and fears—that was destined to end, for the moment at least, in nothing.

But if you don’t blame the University, you can’t help but admire how the women students handled those challenging days of uncertainty. While the younger members of the group were trying to continue their education however they could, the seniors were working hard to find an open door or to unlock one that was closed. Birmingham at least came up in conversation, with its possibilities; St. Andrews, Durham, and various centers in Ireland were visited and approached diplomatically, and for a time, there seemed to be a real chance of success. It’s heartbreaking to sift through the endless piles of correspondence—once filled with hopes and fears—that ultimately led to nothing, at least for the moment.

In June S. J.-B. and Miss M‘Laren went on a mission to Newcastle, and they had scarcely left Edinburgh before Miss Pechey, who had just returned, sent the following report:

In June, S. J.-B. and Miss M‘Laren went on a mission to Newcastle, and they had barely left Edinburgh when Miss Pechey, who had just come back, sent this report:

“15 Buccleuch Place,
Edinburgh.
June 17th. 1873.

Darling Soph,

I was going to write to you yesterday, but was overcome with sleep, the result, I suppose, of getting up at 5 o’clock. Last night Millar sent a copy of the Consulted Lords’ Opinion with a note to say that the case would be put on this week, and that the proceedings would occupy only a few minutes—merely formal. He is to let me know when it comes on. Ormidale, Mure, Mackenzie and Shand are dead against us, contending that the Court had no power to make the regulations. Deas, Ardmillan, Jerviswoode and Gifford only in favour of the regulations holding good and our right to graduation,—but not a word as to the regulations being enforced, and we are still left at the mercy of the individual professors.

I was going to write to you yesterday, but I fell asleep, probably because I got up at 5 o’clock. Last night, Millar sent a copy of the Consulted Lords’ Opinion along with a note saying that the case will be discussed this week, and that the proceedings will only take a few minutes—just formalities. He’ll let me know when it comes up. Ormidale, Mure, Mackenzie, and Shand are completely against us, arguing that the Court didn’t have the power to make the regulations. Deas, Ardmillan, Jerviswoode, and Gifford only support the regulations being valid and our right to graduate—but not a word about the regulations being enforced, and we’re still left at the mercy of the individual professors.

‘That being the case, this coloured individual will take to the 393woods.’ We must look either to Newcastle or St. Andrews. My only care now about the decision of the other judges is with regard to the expenses....

‘That being the case, this person of color will go to the 393woods.’ We need to look to either Newcastle or St. Andrews. My only concern now about the decision of the other judges is regarding the expenses....

I hope the Newcastle people are behaving well.”

I hope the people in Newcastle are acting appropriately.

Individually they were behaving well of course, and individually the applicants saw them. Two of S. J.-B.’s drafted petitions have been preserved:

Individually, they were behaving well, of course, and the applicants noticed each one of them. Two of S. J.-B.’s drafted petitions have been preserved:

“Station Hotel,

Newcastle. June 19th. 1873.

Gentlemen,

Guys,

Relying on the liberality with which the College of Science of the University of Durham has been thrown open to women, I venture to request that you will pursue a similar liberal policy with reference to your College of Medicine, and will admit to it those women who are desirous to enter the medical profession, and for whose education absolutely no provision exists at this moment in Great Britain.

Relying on the openness that the College of Science at the University of Durham has shown towards women, I respectfully ask that you adopt a similar inclusive approach with your College of Medicine, allowing women who want to pursue a career in medicine to be admitted, as there are currently no provisions for their education in Great Britain.

If it is thought desirable that separate classes should be established in any of the subjects of medical education, I am prepared to guarantee for such classes the payment of whatever minimum fee may be fixed by you, and I am further in a position to state that, if your College is thrown open, at least fifteen women will at once enrol themselves as students.

If it’s considered beneficial to set up separate classes for any subjects in medical education, I’m ready to guarantee the payment of whatever minimum fee you decide on, and I can also say that if your College allows it, at least fifteen women will immediately enroll as students.

I have the honour to be, Gentlemen,

I am honored to be, gentlemen,

Yours obedly,

Sophia Jex-Blake.”

“June 23rd. 1873.

Dear Sir,

As I understand that some of the Medical Professors feel a difficulty in arranging for the education of women, while others are quite ready to do so, I venture to suggest whether it would not be possible to admit ladies tentatively for a single term to the classes of such teachers as are prepared to receive them, pending a final decision of the whole question.

As I understand that some of the medical professors have trouble accommodating the education of women, while others are completely on board, I would like to propose that we consider allowing women to join the classes of those teachers who are willing to accept them for just one term, while we wait for a final decision on the entire issue.

I think I mentioned to you that those among us who have studied longest, have attended all the classes required for the Durham licence, except those of Midwifery, Materia Medica and Therapeutics, and that if these classes could be given in the winter session they might present themselves for the April examination. After the experience of such a tentative session, it might with greater certainty be decided whether or not permanent arrangements could be made.

I believe I mentioned to you that those of us who have studied the longest have completed all the classes needed for the Durham license, except for Midwifery, Materia Medica, and Therapeutics. If these classes could be offered in the winter session, they could sit for the April examination. After experiencing such a trial session, it could be more confidently determined whether permanent arrangements can be made.

Indeed, even if it should be thought impossible to make any such partial arrangement for instruction, it might be a matter for consideration 394whether the Medical Council (in conjunction with the Durham authorities) might not agree to examine women with a view to the licence, if they presented certificates of having attended all the necessary classes, and if they paid the fees for one session at Newcastle, even without attending classes there, in case such attendance should be found impracticable.

Indeed, even if it seems impossible to create any partial arrangement for instruction, it might be worth considering whether the Medical Council (along with the Durham authorities) could agree to exam women for the license, provided they present certificates showing they have attended all the necessary classes and pay the fees for one session in Newcastle, even if they don't attend classes there, in case doing so is impractical. 394

Commending the whole question to the most favourable consideration of yourself and your colleagues, I remain,

Commending the entire matter to your and your colleagues' thoughtful consideration, I remain,

Yours obedly,

Sophia Jex-Blake.”

At least she and Miss M‘Laren were not kept waiting long in suspense. On the very same day the answer was despatched:

At least she and Miss M‘Laren weren’t left waiting in suspense for long. They received the answer the very same day:

“University of Durham College of Medicine,
Newcastle on Tyne.
June 23rd. 1873.

Dear Miss Blake,

Dear Ms. Blake,

I am requested to forward you a copy of a resolution passed unanimously at an extraordinary meeting of members held today.

I’m asked to send you a copy of a resolution that was approved unanimously at a special meeting of members held today.

‘That the members of this College, at an extraordinary meeting, having considered the question of opening the Classes of the College for the education of women, decide that they cannot consent to the application made, either as to education or as to Examination for Licences and Degrees.’

‘That the members of this College, at a special meeting, having discussed the issue of opening the College Classes for the education of women, decide that they cannot agree to the request made, either regarding education or concerning Examinations for Licences and Degrees.’

I am,
Yours very truly,
W.C.M. Arnison, M.D.,
Secretary.”

St. Andrews seemed more hopeful. Professor Campbell, as we know, was more than favourable; so was Professor Baynes; there is a thoroughly encouraging letter from Principal Tulloch at this time as to the prospects; and Professor Birrell wrote “in a friendly spirit to the cause which has been ennobled by the rare spirit with which you and your friends have fought a hard fight in its defence.”

St. Andrews felt more promising. Professor Campbell, as we know, was very supportive; so was Professor Baynes; there’s a completely encouraging letter from Principal Tulloch around this time regarding the prospects; and Professor Birrell wrote “in a friendly spirit to the cause that has been elevated by the rare dedication with which you and your friends have fought a tough battle in its defense.”

One wonders whether he had the faintest idea how hard the fight had been.

One wonders if he had the slightest idea how tough the fight had been.

In any case opposition proved too strong, and nothing was done at St. Andrews.

In any case, the opposition was too strong, and nothing happened at St. Andrews.

One must remember that the full equipment of the medical side of the University was a big financial undertaking; and, 395although the women were prepared to bear their share, they were naturally unwilling to do this without some pledge that they would not be left stranded in the first emergency. Moreover, they were anxious not to lose time, and above all things St. Andrews was unwilling to be hurried.

One must remember that fully equipping the medical side of the University was a significant financial commitment; and, 395 although the women were ready to contribute their part, they were understandably hesitant to do so without some assurance that they wouldn't be abandoned in a crisis. Furthermore, they were concerned about wasting time, and above all, St. Andrews was not willing to be rushed.

Dr. King Chambers urged the women to get their classes somehow—anyhow, and then to “practise boldly as unregistered practitioners who are ready to submit to examination when called upon.”

Dr. King Chambers encouraged the women to get their classes in whatever way they could, and then to “practice confidently as unregistered practitioners who are ready to be examined when needed.”

A heroic piece of advice all round. One hopes the unregistered practitioners would be allowed breathing space “when called upon” to refresh their recollection—for instance—of the preparations of opium!

A heroic piece of advice all around. One hopes the unregistered practitioners would be given some leeway "when needed" to refresh their memory—like—about how to prepare opium!

Meanwhile Mrs. Thorne was working hard to arrange classes in Edinburgh, and—failing the University degree—to secure for women the Licence of the Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons—a privilege which was actually granted some dozen years later. She and others were also enquiring about the possibilities of the Apothecaries’ Society of London and the Apothecaries’ Hall of Ireland, and, with a view to this, S. J.-B. went the length of securing a legal apprenticeship to her old friend and teacher, Mr. Salzmann of Brighton, who was most anxious to help her if he could. In fact no stone was left unturned.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Thorne was working hard to organize classes in Edinburgh and—if she couldn't get a University degree—secure a license for women from the Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, a privilege that was actually granted about twelve years later. She and others were also exploring the options with the Apothecaries’ Society of London and the Apothecaries’ Hall of Ireland, and to pursue this, S. J.-B. even managed to secure a legal apprenticeship with her old friend and teacher, Mr. Salzmann from Brighton, who was very eager to help her if he could. In fact, no effort was spared.

The women students were really so restrained, so admirable, through all this, that it is a positive relief to come upon the following outburst some months later from Miss Pechey:

The female students were incredibly composed and commendable throughout all of this, so it was quite refreshing to encounter the following outburst from Miss Pechey a few months later:

“Langham, Colchester,

October 12th. 1873.

My darling Soph,

My dear Soph

Since I saw you I have indeed suffered many things of many physicians, and my temper is no better but rather worse. It is, however, gradually working down to its normal again. If I could only have spoken my mind when they talked their conceited bosh about their infinite superiority, and said,—‘Do you know what a poor fool you are making of yourself?’—it wouldn’t have been so hard; but to sit still, smiling benignantly, when men, commonplace enough, goodness knows, in everything but their uncommon stupidity, boasted of their mental capacity!—it was no wonder that, having to bottle it all up, while I mused the fire burned. They are so like 396the fools that David had to contend with that I can’t help quoting him.”

Since I last saw you, I've really been through a lot with various doctors, and my spirits haven't improved; in fact, they've gotten worse. However, I'm slowly starting to feel more like myself again. If I could have just spoken my mind when they went on about their supposed superiority and said, "Do you know what a naive fool you're making of yourself?" it wouldn't have been so tough. But having to sit there, smiling politely, while those ordinary guys—who are only extraordinary in their lack of sense—boasted about their intelligence? It's no surprise that, with all that bottled-up frustration, I was fuming inside. They remind me so much of the fools that David had to deal with that I can't help but quote him.

After reporting progress, she goes on: “Still I would not have Mrs. Thorne stop in her arrangements for classes in Edinburgh, as I think we have no chance, the influence of the medical men being so much against us.

After updating everyone on our progress, she continues: “However, I wouldn't want Mrs. Thorne to halt her plans for classes in Edinburgh, as I believe we have no chance since the medical professionals are so strongly against us.

Yes, I am curious. I wonder what it is. Perhaps another hopdog? The other died this morning,—poor thing, it had had to go too long without food, and even fresh hops did not revive it.

Yes, I'm curious. I wonder what it is. Maybe another hopdog? The other one died this morning—poor thing, it had to go too long without food, and even fresh hops didn't bring it back to life.

Please give my love to Scrap....

Please send my love to Scrap...

I will telegraph to you when I hear from S.

I'll message you when I hear from S.

Yours lovingly,

Edith.”

Meanwhile the great decision of the Edinburgh Lords had been formally given. The Lord Justice-General, being Chancellor of the University, gave no judgment, but the Lord Justice-Clerk and four others, including all the remaining judges of the First Division were in favour of the women students. The seven remaining judges, including Lord Mure and Lord Shand, were against the women students; so the case was lost by the usual “narrow majority.”

Meanwhile, the significant decision of the Edinburgh Lords had been officially announced. The Lord Justice-General, who was also the Chancellor of the University, didn’t give a ruling, but the Lord Justice-Clerk and four others, including all the other judges of the First Division, supported the women students. The seven remaining judges, including Lord Mure and Lord Shand, opposed the women students, resulting in the case being lost by the typical "narrow majority."

The adverse judgment was based mainly on the opinion that the University Court had, in 1869, done an illegal thing in admitting women to the University at all, and on this ground the authorities were held excused from all responsibility towards the women themselves.

The negative judgment was primarily based on the view that the University Court had acted unlawfully in 1869 by allowing women to enroll at the University, and for this reason, the authorities were deemed not responsible for the women themselves.

As we look back on the episode after all these years, the point that stands out is the brave and luminous judgment of the Lord Justice-Clerk, of which the following is, from our point of view, the most interesting passage:

As we reflect on the episode after all these years, the standout point is the courageous and insightful decision of the Lord Justice-Clerk, of which the following is, from our perspective, the most intriguing part:

“To deny the women students the degree which was essential to their entering the profession, and with a view to which they had studied, on the pretext—for it was no better—that no such end was ever contemplated, was entirely unjust and unwarranted; and that all the more that all the evils said to be connected with the admission of females to the University attached only to the study which was permitted, while the honour could injure no one, and was only valuable as the passport to the medical profession, with which, as a body, the defenders had no concern. That this question of graduation, from whatever cause, was in reality the sole matter in dispute, was sufficiently evident from the pleading of the defenders themselves. 397No doubt they devoted a large portion of their argument to prove that women never had been, and never ought to be, admitted to University study; but in the sequel they disclosed with sufficient frankness that if the pursuers would have contented themselves with mere certificates of proficiency, and would have abandoned their claim for graduation, they might possibly have fared better. This alternative implied university study, and, therefore, as graduation was the cardinal point in the case, his opinion was that, on completing the curriculum as matriculated students, the pursuers were entitled by the existing rules of the University to be admitted to graduation, and, indeed, he had found little of argument addressed to prove the contrary. This, in his opinion, was sufficient for the decision of this case. It was, however, maintained by the defenders that the University Court had no power to pass these regulations; they said that by the constitution of the University no woman could be admitted either for study or for graduation, and that the regulations and all that has followed upon them were therefore a mere nullity, and could receive no effect. He thought this answer entirely irrelevant. Questions might no doubt arise between the superior and subordinate powers in the University as to the legality of the former’s orders, and these might legitimately be called in question. But, when a student had entered the University, and had duly conformed to the rules on the faith of which he entered, it would be no defence on the part of the Senatus to his claim to graduate that the rules under which he had been admitted were liable to legal objection. The duty of the Senatus was to obey the de facto law of the University, and any other principle would be not only subversive of academical discipline, but would lead to the greatest injustice, as he thought was the case here. The matriculation of the student created an implied contract between him and the University authorities that, if he complied with the existing rules, they would confer the benefits in the hope of which he resorted to the University. They could not, after the student had performed his part of the engagement, refuse to fulfil theirs, on the ground that the contract was made under rules which it was beyond the power of their academical superiors to make. They could not compel the student, as a condition of his graduation, to take upon himself the defence of the laws of the University; his sole duty was to obey them, and if their lawfulness was disputed, that must be done in a question with those who made them, not with the student who trusted to them.”

“To deny the female students the degree that was essential for them to enter the profession, and for which they had studied, under the pretext—that it was no better—that such an end was never intended, was completely unfair and unjustified; especially since all the issues said to be linked with admitting women to the University were only connected to the studies they were allowed to pursue, while the degree itself could harm no one and was only valuable as a gateway to the medical profession, which the defenders had no stake in. It was clear that the issue of graduation, for whatever reason, was the only real matter in dispute, as became evident from the arguments of the defenders themselves. They certainly devoted a large part of their argument to prove that women had never been, and should never be, admitted to University study; but ultimately, they openly revealed that if the plaintiffs had been satisfied with just certificates of proficiency and dropped their claim for graduation, they might have had a better chance. This alternative assumed university study; therefore, since graduation was the key point in the case, his view was that, after completing the curriculum as enrolled students, the plaintiffs were entitled by the existing rules of the University to graduate, and indeed, he had found little argument addressing the opposite. In his opinion, this was enough to decide the case. However, the defenders argued that the University Court had no authority to enact these regulations; they claimed that according to the University’s constitution, no woman could be admitted for study or graduation, and that the regulations and everything stemming from them were therefore completely void and ineffective. He considered this response totally irrelevant. There might indeed be questions between the higher and lower powers within the University regarding the legality of the higher’s orders, and these could be rightfully challenged. But once a student had enrolled at the University and had followed the rules based on which they enrolled, it would not be a valid defense from the Senatus against their claim to graduate to say that the rules under which they were admitted might be legally objectionable. The Senatus had a duty to follow the in practice law of the University, and any other principle would not only undermine academic discipline but lead to significant injustice, as he believed was the case here. The enrollment of the student created an implied contract between them and the University authorities that, if they adhered to the current rules, the authorities would provide the benefits that the student sought by attending the University. They could not, after the student had fulfilled their part of the agreement, refuse to do their part on the grounds that the contract was made under rules that their academic superiors had no authority to establish. They could not force the student, as a prerequisite for graduation, to defend the laws of the University; their sole obligation was to obey them, and if the legality of those laws was challenged, that had to be addressed with those who created them, not with the student who relied on them.”

The women students were ordered to pay the expenses of the appeal: and thus ended the hard fought “Battle in Edinburgh.”

The female students were instructed to cover the costs of the appeal, and that’s how the hard-fought “Battle in Edinburgh” came to a close.

398

CHAPTER XVII
THE QUESTION IN PARLIAMENT

How far S. J.-B. was depressed in mind and body by the events of that wearing fight, we can fairly guess. But nothing had happened to disturb in the smallest degree her faith,—her philosophy of life. She never doubted that she was fighting the battle of the Lord; but—greatly though she hoped, sure though she felt of final victory for her cause—she was always, in the background of her being, absolutely prepared for the defeat of any one of her plans. In the thick of the combat, she seemed so engrossed that comrades and onlookers were wont to say,—“Defeat will kill her,” but this was a complete misunderstanding of her attitude. The moment defeat came, it was accepted as simply the will of God, though it well might be that God still meant her to try again.

How much S. J.-B. was weighed down mentally and physically by the exhausting fight is something we can reasonably imagine. However, nothing had changed her faith—or her outlook on life—in the slightest. She never questioned that she was fighting for a righteous cause; even though she greatly hoped for success and felt certain of ultimate victory for her cause, she was always mentally prepared for the chance of failure in any of her plans. During the heat of the battle, she appeared so focused that her friends and onlookers often said, “Defeat will break her,” but this completely misunderstood her mindset. When defeat came, she accepted it as simply God’s will, even though it was possible that God wanted her to keep trying.

In the occasional great affairs of later life it was positively startling to contrast her apparent inability to recognize another side to the question at issue with her instant acceptance of an adverse decision when it came. But for the vital record we now possess of her youth, most people would have had no clue. She was not ordinarily taken for a religious woman; but it is simply true that the watchword of her life—passively and actively—was Fiat voluntas tua.

In the significant events of her later life, it was surprising to see how she seemed unable to acknowledge another perspective on the matter at hand, yet she swiftly accepted an unfavorable decision when it arrived. Without the essential record we now have of her youth, most people wouldn't have had a clue. She wasn't typically viewed as a religious person; however, the truth is that the guiding principle of her life—both in action and thought—was Your will be done.

She was one of those who pray; but she would have thought it wrong to pray for the success of a definite scheme, for the life of a friend, even—in the hour of her greatest need—for the renewal of a broken friendship.

She was one of those people who pray; but she would have felt it was wrong to pray for the success of a specific plan, for the life of a friend, even—in her most desperate time—for the restoration of a broken friendship.

And indeed there was always some comfort at hand, quite 399apart from the highest philosophy. To the end of her life the words were often on her lips, “You see we had such excellent friends”; and though some few adherents were estranged because they thought the battle was being fought too pugnaciously, others became increasingly impressed by the extraordinary constancy shown by the fighters, and, in particular, by the protagonist’s rare and individual type of unworldliness, an unworldliness which, just because it was individual, often made life rather difficult for her supporters.

And there was always some comfort available, separate from the deepest philosophy. Until the end of her life, she often said, “You see, we had such amazing friends.” Although a few supporters became distant because they thought the struggle was too aggressive, others grew more and more impressed by the remarkable steadfastness of the fighters, especially by the main character’s unique and personal form of being out of touch with the world. This individuality, precisely because it was unique, often made things quite challenging for her supporters.

Here is a letter from one of the Edinburgh professors, who in the early days had begged S. J.-B. not to speak harshly of an Alma Mater of which she would yet be proud, and who, later, had congratulated her on a book which “tells a very sad and disgraceful story, and tells it clearly and temperately and effectively,—all the more effectively because your justifiable indignation is kept well within bounds”:

Here’s a letter from one of the professors in Edinburgh, who in the early days had asked S. J.-B. not to speak negatively about a school she would eventually be proud of, and who later congratulated her on a book that “tells a very sad and disgraceful story, and tells it clearly, calmly, and effectively—all the more effectively because your justified anger is kept in check.”

“Edinburgh, 21 Oct. 1873.

Dear Madam,

Dear Ma'am,

I send you herein a cheque for five pounds towards the law expenses of the lady medical students in the recent trial.

I’m sending you a check for five pounds to help cover the legal expenses for the female medical students in the recent trial.

If I had the misfortune to be a member of the University Court, I should think myself bound in honour to pay my individual proportion of the whole expense incurred by these ladies in consequence of their supposing that this learned Court knew the extent of its own powers. Horace’s words, ‘Delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi,’ may in this case be rendered, ‘The University Court blundered, and the Ladies are mulcted in the costs.’ If any sense of justice is still extant in this country, the result must be, not only the payment of these costs by public subscription, but a more than ever energetic agitation for the overthrow of male monopoly in the medical profession.

If I were unfortunate enough to be a member of the University Court, I would feel it was my duty to cover my share of the expenses caused by these women thinking that this esteemed Court understood its own powers. Horace’s words, ‘Delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi’ can be interpreted here as, ‘The University Court made a mistake, and the Ladies are stuck with the costs.’ If there’s still any sense of justice left in this country, the outcome should be not only that these costs are covered by public fundraising, but also a renewed and vigorous push to dismantle male dominance in the medical profession.

Yours most truly,

W.B. Hodgson.

Miss Stevenson.”

Miss Stevenson.

Immediately after the legal decision had been given, the Spectator took up the question in an article “Women’s Wrongs at Edinburgh,” of which the following sentences give the gist:

Immediately after the legal decision was made, the Spectator addressed the issue in an article titled “Women’s Wrongs at Edinburgh,” of which the following sentences convey the main idea:

“To canvass the legality of the judgment itself is alike beyond the present writer’s competency and his wish, though it may be 400permitted to remark that the best known names are found in the minority, and that the reasonings on the other side, while turning on a very narrow principle, are exceedingly discursive and inconsequent.

“To examine the legality of the judgment itself is beyond the capabilities and the desire of the present writer, though it can be noted that the most recognized names are in the minority, and that the arguments on the other side, while based on a very narrow principle, are quite lengthy and inconsistent. 400”

... The Senate included some staunch friends of the lady students, and about an equal number of resolute opponents, but the indifferent majority who swayed the action of the body appears to have had no aim except to hush up a troublesome affair. Their policy was to do all they could to oblige the applicants, meanwhile trusting to the chapter of accidents to escape the difficulties that might come after.”

... The Senate included some strong supporters of the female students, along with a similar number of determined opponents, but the indifferent majority that influenced the group's decisions seemed to have no goal other than to quiet a bothersome issue. Their approach was to do everything they could to accommodate the applicants while hoping to avoid any problems that might arise later.

This was shrewd and true.

This was smart and real.

Within a few days a long and exhaustive review of the position and its possibilities, from the pen of Mrs. Garrett Anderson, appeared in the Times, in the course of which the writer urged that the time was not ripe for the medical education of women in Great Britain, and that “in no way could women better serve the cause we desire to promote than by going to Paris to study medicine, and returning here as soon as might be to practise it.” “Never,” she said, “was there a case in which the truth of the adage, ‘Solvitur ambulando,’ was more likely to make itself felt.” [In the spirit of Professor Hodgson’s translation of Horace, one may say, in fact, that “the difficulty might be solved by crossing the Channel.”]

Within a few days, a detailed review of the situation and its potential by Mrs. Garrett Anderson appeared in the Times. In it, she argued that the time wasn’t right for women’s medical education in Great Britain, and that “there’s no better way for women to support the cause we want to promote than by going to Paris to study medicine and coming back here as soon as possible to practice it.” “Never,” she said, “has there been a case where the truth of the saying, "Problem solved by walking." was more likely to be proven.” [In the spirit of Professor Hodgson’s translation of Horace, it could be said that “the issue might be resolved by crossing the Channel.”]

Of course S. J.-B. did not agree with her, and she wrote a detailed reply ^[113] which Jupiter supported with a leading utterance in his own name. He was not enthusiastic about women doctors at all, but in this particular difference of opinion he gave his vote for the “equally deserving, but hitherto less fortunate aspirant to the position of a legally qualified practitioner.”^[114]

Of course, S. J.-B. didn’t agree with her, and she wrote a detailed reply ^[113] which Jupiter backed up with a strong statement in his own name. He wasn't a fan of women doctors at all, but in this particular disagreement, he voted for the “equally deserving, but previously less fortunate candidate for the role of a legally qualified practitioner.”^[114]

S. J.-B. knew more of the hidden springs than anyone, and she did not consider that the time had come to give in. She 401who had borne the brunt of so many disappointments was still full of hope. She wanted her own country to give her this thing. Above all she felt that “so long as no means of education are provided at home, only a very small number of women will ever seek admission to the profession.”

S. J.-B. understood the hidden drivers better than anyone else, and she didn’t think it was time to back down. She, who had faced so many disappointments, remained hopeful. She wanted her country to provide her with this opportunity. Above all, she believed that “as long as no educational resources are available at home, only a very small number of women will ever pursue a career in this field.”

“This last consideration,” she says, “was to me conclusive.”

“This last point,” she says, “was decisive for me.”

“I greatly admire your letter to Mrs. G. Anderson,” wrote Professor Hodgson, “and I am truly glad to see that you are not so despondent as I am. The passive power of resistance on the part of those who hold a position is terribly difficult to overcome. It is not mere inertia; that would be bad enough. Ultimate success I do not at all despair of, but individual life is short and the journey is long and arduous.”

“I really admire your letter to Mrs. G. Anderson,” wrote Professor Hodgson, “and I’m truly glad to see that you’re not as down as I am. The resistance from those in power is incredibly hard to overcome. It’s not just inertia; that would be bad enough. I don’t completely lose hope for ultimate success, but individual life is short and the journey is long and difficult.”

Both Times and Spectator spoke severely of the behaviour of the University, and on September 1st an apologia appeared from the pen of the Principal. It was just the letter one might have expected from an able, urbane, scholarly gentleman; he scanned the whole history “as we do our own poetry, laying stress on the right syllables and passing lightly over a halting foot.” It would have been a fine and conclusive defence,—if Jupiter had not allowed a poor overworked medical student to answer it. The two letters represent two conflicting schools of historians, the one sweeping, picturesque, probable: the other definite, statistical, true. The former is certainly the easier to read. The correspondence is so essentially typical of many of the “disputes” S. J.-B. had with others in the course of her life that it is given in full in the appendix.^[115]

Both Times and Spectator criticized the University's behavior, and on September 1st, a apology appeared from the Principal. It was exactly the kind of letter you would expect from a capable, cultured, scholarly gentleman; he reviewed the entire history “as we do our own poetry, emphasizing the right syllables and lightly skipping over any awkward parts.” It would have been a solid and conclusive defense—if Jupiter hadn't allowed a poor, overworked medical student to respond. The two letters showcase two conflicting approaches to history: one sweeping, colorful, and likely; the other precise, statistical, and factual. The former is definitely easier to read. The correspondence is so typically representative of the many “disputes” S. J.-B. had with others throughout her life that it's included in full in the appendix.^[115]

“I have seen the Venerable Principal’s letter,” wrote a distinguished lawyer from Uig, “for even in these uttermost parts of the earth the Scotsman has reached me, and I need not say what I thought of it. I read also with great satisfaction your thorough demolition of the learned and venerable and inaccurate gentleman, and the Scotsman’s excellent punching of his head.”

“I have seen the Principal’s letter,” wrote a distinguished lawyer from Uig, “for even in these farthest corners of the earth the Scotsman has made its way to me, and I don’t need to say what I thought of it. I read your thorough dismantling of the learned, respectable, but inaccurate gentleman with great satisfaction, as well as the Scotsman’s excellent takedown of him.”

402S. J.-B. spent part of that summer holiday visiting Norfolk cousins, and she took the opportunity to read a paper on her special subject at the Social Science Congress at Norwich, under the auspices of her friend, Professor Hodgson, who was President of the Education Section.^[116] Here she made two friendships of great value,—one with Miss Louisa Hubbard, whose sister, Lady Rendel, had been S. J.-B.’s schoolfellow; the other, even more memorable, with Miss Pauline Irby, who was just entering upon her heroic and self-sacrificing life work in Bosnia. In October S. J.-B. returned to Edinburgh to clinch the arrangements Mrs. Thorne was making for the winter session.

402S. J.-B. spent part of that summer break visiting her cousins in Norfolk, and she took the chance to present a paper on her area of expertise at the Social Science Congress in Norwich, hosted by her friend, Professor Hodgson, who was the President of the Education Section.^[116] Here, she formed two valuable friendships—one with Miss Louisa Hubbard, whose sister, Lady Rendel, had been S. J.-B.’s schoolmate; the other, even more significant, with Miss Pauline Irby, who was just starting her heroic and selfless mission in Bosnia. In October, S. J.-B. returned to Edinburgh to finalize the arrangements Mrs. Thorne was making for the winter session.

It is one more instance of the extraordinary, dogged perseverance of those women that during that winter session the lectures were delivered to women as before by Edinburgh Extra-Mural lecturers, the subjects being Materia Medica, Pathology and Midwifery. S. J.-B. attended these lectures when she could, and took honours in all of them; but she was already in correspondence with Dr. Anstie and others as to the possibility of opening some school for women in the larger and more impersonal milieu of London. As a matter of fact, the whole centre of interest had changed. The question was now potentially before Parliament,—not indeed as a question of practical politics to be decided by the rank and file, but as a matter for private discussion by a few men of courage and vision.

It’s another example of the incredible, determined perseverance of those women that during that winter session, the lectures were still delivered to women by Edinburgh Extra-Mural lecturers, covering subjects like Materia Medica, Pathology, and Midwifery. S. J.-B. attended these lectures whenever she could and achieved honors in all of them; however, she was already in touch with Dr. Anstie and others about the possibility of starting a school for women in the larger, more impersonal environment of London. In fact, the entire focal point had shifted. The issue was now potentially before Parliament—not as a practical politics question for the general public to decide, but as a topic for private discussion among a few brave and visionary men.

“It was necessary,” wrote Mr. Stansfeld in reviewing the history three years later,^[117] “to appeal to a yet higher tribunal. Such appeal might have been made on the question of law to the House of Lords; but that would have meant further indefinite delay and further heavy expense, and then, if the result were favourable, a probable refusal of the university to act on their ascertained powers. It was necessary to secure the admission of women to medical study and practice, 403and not merely to ascertain that one out of nineteen examining bodies could admit them if it liked. Miss Jex-Blake and her friends determined to widen their appeal, to base it on the ground of right, and to address it to Parliament and to public opinion.”

“It was necessary,” wrote Mr. Stansfeld in reviewing the history three years later,^[117] “to appeal to a higher authority. This appeal could have been made on legal grounds to the House of Lords; however, that would have meant more indefinite delays and significant expenses, and then, if the outcome was favorable, a likely refusal from the university to act on their confirmed powers. It was essential to secure the admission of women to medical study and practice, 403 and not just to confirm that one out of nineteen examining bodies could accept them if it chose to. Miss Jex-Blake and her friends decided to broaden their appeal, based it on the grounds of rights, and directed it to Parliament and public opinion.”

As early as August 1872 Sir David Wedderburn (on behalf of Sir Robert Anstruther) had moved that the vote for the Scottish Universities should be reduced by the amount of the salaries of the Edinburgh Medical Professors. He explained that the motion was brought forward in order to lay before the House the course followed by the authorities of the University of Edinburgh, but that, in view of the fact that the Lord Ordinary, had, a few days before, given a judgment in favour of the ladies, he hoped the University would accept the decision as final and as indicating to them their duties in the matter; and he would therefore refrain from pressing the motion to a division.

As early as August 1872, Sir David Wedderburn (on behalf of Sir Robert Anstruther) proposed that the vote for the Scottish Universities be lowered by the amount of the salaries of the Edinburgh Medical Professors. He explained that he was bringing this motion forward to inform the House about the actions taken by the authorities of the University of Edinburgh. However, since the Lord Ordinary had recently ruled in favor of the ladies, he hoped the University would accept that decision as final and recognize their responsibilities regarding the issue; therefore, he decided not to pursue the motion to a vote.

When the University appealed against the Lord Ordinary’s decision, and got it reversed on appeal, Sir David Wedderburn, on July 29th, 1873, gave notice that he would, early in the following session, bring in a Bill to grant to the Scottish Universities the power they were now supposed not to possess, to educate women in medicine and to grant to them the ordinary medical degrees.

When the University appealed the Lord Ordinary’s decision and had it overturned, Sir David Wedderburn announced on July 29th, 1873, that he would introduce a Bill in the next session to give Scottish Universities the authority they were thought to lack, enabling them to educate women in medicine and award them the standard medical degrees.

It was highly desirable, of course, to secure Government support for this Bill, and in October we find S. J.-B. in correspondence with the Home Secretary. There is a long letter marked “Private” in which Mr. Lowe (Lord Sherbrooke) expresses his view of the matter, and asks her to let him know what course she proposes to follow. Shortly after, we get the following:

It was crucial, of course, to get government support for this Bill, and in October we see S. J.-B. in talks with the Home Secretary. There’s a lengthy letter marked “Private” in which Mr. Lowe (Lord Sherbrooke) shares his thoughts on the issue and asks her to inform him of her intended approach. Soon after, we receive the following:

“Secretary of State,
Home Department.
Oct. 13. 1874.

My dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I have done what I can to forward your views. I should think you would be met by the same legal difficulty in Ireland as in Scotland. But though it may not be very agreeable to my constituents I should have no objection if this were the only obstacle to introduce an enabling Bill giving all Universities the power if 404they please to confer medical degrees or indeed any other degrees on women.

I’ve done what I can to support your ideas. I believe you’d face the same legal challenges in Ireland as you would in Scotland. But even if it’s not very popular with my constituents, I wouldn’t mind if this were the only barrier to introducing a bill that would allow all universities the option to grant medical degrees or any other degrees to women if they choose.

Believe me,
Very truly yours,
Robert Lowe.”

Clearly she was eager to follow up the opening, for ten days later he writes again:

Clearly, she was eager to continue the conversation because ten days later, he writes again:

“I am afraid I cannot commit the Government to introducing the Bill without consulting them. I will do so at the Cabinets which will take place next month and tell you the result.”^[118]

“I’m afraid I can’t promise that the Government will introduce the Bill without consulting them first. I’ll bring it up at the Cabinet meetings next month and let you know the outcome.”^[118]

“The matter has been discussed to-day,” writes Mr. Stansfeld on Dec. 1st, “but nothing is settled; I apprehend difference of opinion....

“The matter has been discussed today,” writes Mr. Stansfeld on Dec. 1st, “but nothing is settled; I sense a difference of opinion....

I should advise personal communication with members of the Government before January Cabinets. A concise but complete and temperate statement in favour of legislation would, I think, be useful.”

I recommend having personal conversations with government members before the January meetings. A clear but thorough and calm statement in support of the legislation would, in my opinion, be helpful.

So, early in January, S. J.-B. went up to London to interview ministers and others.

So, early in January, S. J.-B. went to London to meet with ministers and others.

“Jan. 7th. Wednesday. Mr. Lowe, 4 p.m. Very cordial and courteous. Would certainly bring in a Bill if his colleagues allowed him,—very doubtful if they would,—if not, would help Wedderburn all he could, ‘and I can do a great deal.’

“Jan. 7th. Wednesday. Mr. Lowe, 4 p.m. Very friendly and polite. He would definitely introduce a Bill if his colleagues permitted him, though it’s very uncertain if they would. If not, he would support Wedderburn as much as he could, ‘and I can do a great deal.’”

Thought Enabling Bill more hopeful than compelling Medical Boards to examine.”

Thought Enabling Bill is more hopeful than forcing Medical Boards to take a closer look.

“Jan. 10th. Saturday. In morning at Museum, looking up Charters of Colleges, etc.

“Jan. 10th. Saturday. In the morning at the Museum, researching Charters of Colleges, etc.

2 p.m. Sir J. Lubbock. Pleasant and friendly,—non-committal rather. Would talk with Wedderburn,—‘generally agreed with him.’

2 p.m. Sir J. Lubbock. Nice and friendly, but a bit non-committal. He would chat with Wedderburn, saying he ‘generally agreed with him.’

At 4 p.m. Stansfeld. Friendly as ever. Thought Selborne’s opinion most important.”

At 4 p.m., Stansfeld was as friendly as always. He thought Selborne’s opinion was the most important.

After a few days spent with Mrs. Jex-Blake at Brighton the tale proceeds:

After spending a few days with Mrs. Jex-Blake in Brighton, the story continues:

“Tuesday, 20th. At 1 p.m. saw Lord Aberdare,—quite friendly,—‘should heartily support Bill.’ Was quite willing that Bill should come from his office, by Forster.

“Tuesday, 20th. At 1 p.m. I met with Lord Aberdare—very friendly—‘I should totally support the Bill.’ He was completely on board with the Bill coming from his office, through Forster.”

4052 p.m. Grant Duff, friendly but not encouraging as to his power to help with Cabinet.

4052 p.m. Grant Duff was friendly but not very optimistic about his ability to assist with the Cabinet.

Wednesday 21st. Saw Thos. Hughes, 10 a.m. Very friendly. Would speak to Forster, etc....

Wednesday 21st. Met with Thos. Hughes at 10 a.m. Very friendly. Would talk to Forster, etc....

Thursday 22nd. Breakfasted with the Russell Gurneys. Very friendly. He quite ready to put his name on back of Wedderburn’s Bill. On the whole encouraged to get special Exam. and practise in spite of Act, if no legislation to be got.^[119]

Thursday 22nd. Had breakfast with the Russell Gurneys. They were very friendly. He was quite willing to put his name on the back of Wedderburn’s Bill. Overall, I feel encouraged to go for a special exam and practice despite the Act, if no legislation can be obtained.^[119]

11 a.m. Lady Selborne—‘knew nothing about’ our question,—laughed at the idea of my seeing the Chancellor—but listened fairly to what I had to say,—seemed impressed by the facts and by the attention of the other ministers,—promised to report fairly what I had said.

11 a.m. Lady Selborne—‘knew nothing about’ our question,—laughed at the idea of my seeing the Chancellor—but listened attentively to what I had to say,—seemed impressed by the facts and the interest of the other ministers,—promised to report accurately what I had said.

Not specially courteous or gracious, but I think honest.”

Not particularly polite or kind, but I believe it's honest.

“8.30 p.m. express from King’s Cross to Edinburgh.

“8:30 p.m. express train from King’s Cross to Edinburgh.”

Friday 23rd. Illuminations, etc., for Duke of Edinburgh’s wedding day.

Friday 23rd. Lights and decorations for the Duke of Edinburgh’s wedding day.

Saturday, 24th. Dissolution! What next?”

Saturday, 24th. It's over! What now?”

It was only too true. The time of reaction had come after a long period of reforming energy under Mr. Gladstone, and now—failing to find an adequate rallying cry for his party—he dissolved Parliament and appealed to the country. In the confusion of the moment the Home Secretary did not forget the women students.

It was definitely true. The time for change had arrived after a long phase of reform efforts led by Mr. Gladstone, and now—struggling to find a strong rallying cry for his party—he dissolved Parliament and turned to the public for support. In the chaos of the moment, the Home Secretary didn't overlook the women students.

“My dear Miss Jex-Blake,

“My dear Miss Jex-Blake,”

I am sorry to say that in the present state of things it is quite impossible for me to bring in a Bill on your subject or indeed on any other. I don’t think you will find much difficulty in getting a man.

I'm sorry to say that with things as they are right now, it's completely impossible for me to introduce a Bill on your topic or any other. I don’t think you’ll have much trouble finding someone else.

I congratulate you on your brother’s appointment.^[120]

I congratulate you on your brother’s new position.^[120]

Very truly yours,

R. Lowe.”

406This was followed on February 10th by a letter from Mr. Stansfeld:

“Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

“Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

The Conservatives will certainly come in and for a long time. I should have thought that Russell Gurney might not improbably now be placed upon the Bench. I don’t suppose that a political appointment would suit him; unless it were that of Speaker and I have not heard his name mentioned for it.

The Conservatives will definitely take over and stay for a while. I would think that Russell Gurney might reasonably be considered for a position on the Bench now. I don’t think a political appointment would be right for him; unless it was the role of Speaker, and I haven't heard his name brought up for that.

I think you can’t do better than ask him, saying at the same time that you cannot but see that the coming political change may make it out of his power to comply.

I think the best thing to do is to ask him, while also recognizing that the upcoming political change might make it impossible for him to agree.

It is all very extraordinary and mortifying.

It’s all really amazing and embarrassing.

Yours truly,

J. Stansfeld.”

The suggested letter was roughly drafted forthwith:

The proposed letter was quickly put together:

“To Russell Gurney.

"To Russell Gurney."

Will you forgive me if, at such a busy and engrossing time, I venture to trouble you about our comparatively small affairs, very important as they are to us.

Will you forgive me if, during such a busy and engaging time, I take the liberty to bother you about our relatively minor issues, as important as they are to us?

You are, of course, aware that Sir David Wedderburn is no longer in Parliament,^[121] and I suppose it is quite certain that the present Government must go out, so that Mr. Lowe cannot at least introduce the Bill as Home Secretary, and thus on both hands our prospects are at an end.

You know that Sir David Wedderburn is no longer in Parliament,^[121] and I think it's pretty clear that the current Government will have to leave, which means Mr. Lowe won't be able to introduce the Bill as Home Secretary. So, on both sides, our chances are finished.

I venture, however, to rely on the kind interest you expressed in our cause, and to ask you whether it would be possible for you to induce the Conservative Government to take it up, or, if not, whether we might hope for your personal help still farther in the matter,—if you do not take office, as I hear you may. I think Mr. Lowe would be willing to help us as a private member, and it occurred to me as possible that you and he might take up the Bill jointly so as to conciliate both sides of the House.

I’m willing to count on the genuine interest you showed in our cause and ask if there’s a chance you could convince the Conservative Government to support it. If that’s not an option, could we still hope for your personal assistance on this matter—assuming you’re not taking a position in office, as I’ve heard you might? I think Mr. Lowe would be open to supporting us as a private member, and it occurred to me that you two could possibly present the Bill together to appeal to both sides of the House.

I am personally very ignorant of political matters, and of what could and what could not be done. I shall feel it the greatest possible favour if you will kindly tell me how far you can help us in this matter, and will give me any advice on the subject which may occur to you. It is of extreme importance to us that the Bill should, if passed at all, be passed as soon as possible, as it will at any rate be difficult enough to make arrangements in time for next winter’s session, and we can ill afford to lose another year.

I’m not really knowledgeable about political issues or what can actually be done. I would really appreciate it if you could let me know how much help you can provide and share any advice you might have. It’s really important for us that the Bill gets passed as soon as possible, if it’s going to be passed at all, since it will already be quite challenging to make arrangements in time for next winter’s session, and we can’t afford to lose another year.

I trust that you will at least excuse me for thus troubling you.

I hope you can at least forgive me for bothering you like this.

Yours truly obliged,

S. J.-B.”

407A most gracious answer to this arrived without loss of time:

407A very polite response to this came promptly:

“Queen’s Hotel, Hastings,

13th. Feb.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

Although politically opposed to Sir D. Wedderburn, yet for your sake and for that of the cause which he so faithfully supported I can sincerely regret the loss of his seat.

Although I’m politically opposed to Sir D. Wedderburn, I can genuinely regret his loss of the seat for your sake and for the cause he supported so faithfully.

I really do not know what course to advise you to pursue. My absence from Parliament during nearly the whole of the two last Sessions makes it more difficult for me than it would have otherwise have been.

I honestly don’t know what path to suggest you take. My absence from Parliament for almost the entire last two sessions makes it harder for me than it would have been otherwise.

I should think that it would scarcely be possible to get the new Government as a Government to take up the measure. Coming in at the time they do they will be sure to take up as few measures as possible. If a Bill is brought in by Mr. Lowe or anyone else I would not only support it but use any little influence I may have with the Ministry to induce them not to oppose it.

I think it would be really hard for the new Government to officially support the measure. Since they're coming in at this time, they’ll likely focus on implementing as few measures as possible. If Mr. Lowe or someone else introduces a Bill, I would not only back it but also use whatever small influence I have with the Ministry to encourage them not to oppose it.

The state of my health is such that I cannot undertake to take charge of the Bill. I have come here in order to get a little rest before the Meeting of Parliament and I am under positive orders from my doctor to avoid all extra work.

The state of my health is such that I cannot take charge of the Bill. I’ve come here to get some rest before Parliament meets, and my doctor has strictly advised me to avoid any extra work.

I fear indeed that during the next Session I am likely to be a somewhat useless member.

I really worry that in the next session, I’m probably going to be a bit of a useless member.

I shall always be ready to consult with you, though at present I confess that I do not see my way.

I’ll always be available to talk with you, but right now I have to admit that I don’t see a clear path forward.

Believe me,
Very sincerely yours,
Russell Gurney.”

It was characteristic of the vicissitudes of S. J.-B.’s life at the time that within a few days of receiving this letter she had a telegram from Mrs. Jex-Blake’s physician at Brighton: “Your Mother is very poorly. I should like you to come.”

It was typical of the ups and downs of S. J.-B.’s life at that time that just a few days after getting this letter, she received a telegram from Mrs. Jex-Blake’s doctor in Brighton: “Your mother is very unwell. I would like you to come.”

This was delivered at 8 p.m., and it is needless to say that she started by the night train. A fortnight of anxious nursing followed; but her affairs were not forgotten:

This was delivered at 8 p.m., and it's unnecessary to say that she set off on the night train. A couple of weeks of worried nursing followed; but her matters were not overlooked:

“Local Government Board,

Whitehall. Feb. 24. 74.

Dear Masson,

Hey Masson,

I have heard, of course, also from Miss Jex-Blake. I won’t say ‘No’ at any rate at present.

I have heard, of course, from Miss Jex-Blake too. I won't say 'No' right now, at least.

First I will see Lowe and ascertain his mind; and then I should like to see if someone more acceptable to Dizzy cannot be found. I think one must look around one first in the new Parliament, before deciding.

First, I will talk to Lowe and find out what he thinks; then I would like to see if we can find someone more acceptable to Dizzy. I believe we need to look around in the new Parliament before making a decision.

408Is not the Bill you propose simply one enabling Universities to grant Degrees to women; or what else do you propose?

408Isn't the Bill you're proposing just one that allows universities to grant degrees to women? What else are you suggesting?

Whether it is good or bad I should tell you that the wirepulling and newspaper doctors hate me.

Whether it's good or bad, I should let you know that the people behind the scenes and the media experts hate me.

Yours ever,

J. Stansfeld.”

“Feb. 25th. 74.

Dear Masson,

I have seen Lowe about your proposed Bill.

I’ve talked to Lowe about your proposed Bill.

He is ‘heartily’ for it, but thinks that he and I had better support and not originate. Just now, he says, whatever we do will probably be considered wrong, as the tide is against us, and for this reason none of these Bills should be introduced by any of us ex-cabinet ministers. Moreover if any of them are to pass they must be made as little unacceptable as possible to Dizzy & Co., which means that they had better be proposed and seconded by men on either side of the House—one on one side and one on the other—but not by us.

He’s fully on board with it, but he thinks that he and I should support it rather than initiate it. Right now, he says, anything we do will probably be seen as wrong since the tide is against us, and because of this, none of these Bills should be introduced by any of us former cabinet ministers. Additionally, if any of them are going to pass, they need to be as minimally objectionable as possible to Dizzy & Co., which means they should be proposed and seconded by people from both sides of the House—one from each side—but not by us.

I must say that the more I think of it the more I find this reasoning sound. And I am prepared to advise therefore that you should not ask either Lowe or me.

I have to say that the more I think about it, the more I find this reasoning convincing. So, I'm ready to advise you not to ask either Lowe or me.

As to myself there is another special reason, to which I have already referred, why it might be more prudent not to choose me, viz. that ‘the doctors’ hate me; and tho’ I can’t see exactly how that fact might operate, it might at least be admitted that it might operate unfavourably, and that therefore it would be safer to look elsewhere.

As for me, there’s another specific reason, which I’ve already mentioned, why it might be smarter not to pick me: the doctors dislike me. While I can’t see exactly how that would affect things, it’s reasonable to assume it could have a negative impact, so it might be better to look for someone else.

I won’t write to Miss Jex-Blake yet, but will wait to hear from you what you think.

I won't write to Miss Jex-Blake just yet; I'll wait to hear your thoughts.

Of course I would willingly support and help.

Of course, I’d be happy to support and help.

Yours ever,

J. Stansfeld.”

“10, Regent Terrace, Edinr.

Feb. 26, 1874.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I have had two letters from Mr. Stansfeld, which I enclose. The second, you will see, is less favourable than the first, though not absolutely conclusive. In reply I have expressed my belief that the second objection—that about his relation to the ‘doctors’—can matter little, inasmuch as we can’t expect anyone who takes up the cause to be a darling of the doctors or to remain one ^[122]; but on 409the other objection I have not felt able to say much against the experienced instinct of Mr. Lowe and himself. On the one side there may be a good deal in their feeling that for an ex-minister of the Gladstone Cabinet to move the Bill may move Disraeli to criticism, if not to opposition; on the other it seems essential that the lead should be taken by an eminent and faithful man. You will weigh the whole matter in London and consult.

I’ve received two letters from Mr. Stansfeld, which I’ve enclosed. The second one, as you’ll notice, is less favorable than the first, though it’s not completely definitive. In my reply, I conveyed that I believe the second concern—regarding his relationship with the ‘doctors’—is not very significant since we can’t expect anyone who supports this cause to be favored by the doctors or to stay that way ^[122]; however, I haven’t been able to argue much against the solid instincts of Mr. Lowe and Mr. Stansfeld on the other concern. On one hand, there’s some merit to their feeling that for a former minister of the Gladstone Cabinet to introduce the Bill might provoke criticism, if not outright opposition, from Disraeli; on the other hand, it seems crucial that a prominent and dedicated person should take the lead. You’ll consider the whole situation in London and discuss it further.

I daresay it will be best not to publish the Memorial to Disraeli till the receipt of it is acknowledged. I have all the renewed signatures ^[123] now except the Edinburgh ones; and these, I hope, will be completed today or tomorrow.

I think it would be best not to publish the Memorial to Disraeli until we receive acknowledgment of it. I have all the renewed signatures ^[123] now except for the ones from Edinburgh; and I hope to have those completed today or tomorrow.

Yours very truly,

David Masson.”

“Stoke Lodge,
Hyde Park Gate, W.
Feb. 28. 74.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

I could see you either on Monday or Tuesday afternoon. But where? For the Local Government Board knows me no more.

I could see you either on Monday or Tuesday afternoon. But where? The Local Government Board doesn't know me anymore.

I shall be working at the Athenaeum on Monday afternoon, and could therefore easily call on you anywhere in town.

I’ll be at the Athenaeum on Monday afternoon, so I can easily stop by and see you anywhere in town.

I could see you here on the Tuesday and could make any time convenient, but the morning would be most so.

I can see you here on Tuesday and can make any time work, but morning would be the best.

Pray let me know.

Please let me know.

I enclose Mr. Lowe’s and Mr. Russell Gurney’s notes. You have heard from Masson, I presume. I wrote after seeing Lowe. But I will postpone telling you of our interview till we meet.

I’m sharing Mr. Lowe’s and Mr. Russell Gurney’s notes. I assume you’ve heard from Masson. I wrote to you after meeting Lowe. But I’ll wait to tell you about our conversation until we meet.

Yours truly,

J. Stansfeld.”

A sharp little illness made it difficult for Mr. Stansfeld to pursue the matter for a week or two, but finally we get the following:

A small illness made it hard for Mr. Stansfeld to address the issue for a week or two, but eventually we have the following:

“15 Gt. Stanhope Street, W.

March 21.

Dear Stansfeld,

I am quite ready to take up the case of the women students if a good Bill can be framed, and I shall have to see you on Monday at the House.

I’m totally ready to handle the issue of the women students if a solid Bill can be drafted, and I’ll need to meet with you on Monday at the House.

Ever yours,

W. Cowper Temple.”

[Telegram] “March 23rd. Cowper Temple, Great Stanhope Street to Miss Jex-Blake, 15 Buccleuch Place, Edinburgh.

Can you tell me a lawyer who knows the subject and will frame the Bill or advise about it.”

Can you recommend a lawyer who understands the topic and can draft the Bill or provide advice on it?

410This was apparently followed by a letter, for, at the earliest possible moment on March 24th, S. J.-B. sent down a note by hand to her solicitor:

410 This was apparently followed by a letter, because at the earliest moment on March 24th, S. J.-B. sent a note by hand to her lawyer:

“Dear Mr. Millar,

“Hi Mr. Millar,

An eminent M.P. has undertaken to bring in an Enabling Bill to enable Universities to educate and graduate women on the same terms as men, and I have just got a letter asking me to send up a draft of such Bill. As you are the best authority on such matters I should like to see you at once about it, and should be extremely glad if you could sketch out a draft beforehand, as time is of the greatest moment.

An important Member of Parliament has taken the initiative to introduce an Enabling Bill to allow universities to educate and graduate women on the same terms as men. I recently received a letter asking me to send a draft of that Bill. Since you're the best expert on this topic, I'd like to meet with you right away. I would greatly appreciate it if you could prepare a draft in advance, as time is really crucial.

Could I see you if I called between 12.30 and 1 p.m.?

Could I see you if I called between 12:30 and 1:00 p.m.?

Yrs. truly,

S. Jex-Blake.”

The Draft Bill seems to have been posted that afternoon, and the following day another telegram arrived:

The Draft Bill appears to have been sent out that afternoon, and the next day another telegram arrived:

“March 25th. Rt. Hon. Stansfeld, London, to Miss Jex-Blake, 15 Buccleuch Place, Edinburgh.

I have seen Mr. Cowper Temple and we advise you to come and see him.”

I’ve met with Mr. Cowper Temple, and we recommend that you come and see him.

So of course S. J.-B. travelled up to London next day.

So, of course, S. J.-B. traveled up to London the next day.

[Diary] “March 26th. Summoned up to London about Cowper Temple’s Bill. He very kind, plenty of good will.... Stansfeld admirable. Gurney do., only from health inactive. Lowe, Gallio-like.”

[Diary] “March 26th. Called up to London about Cowper Temple’s Bill. He was very kind and full of good will... Stansfeld was great. Gurney did well too, but he was inactive due to health. Lowe, like Gallio.”

A day or two later S. J.-B. dined with the Cowper Temples and details were threshed out.

A day or two later, S. J.-B. had dinner with the Cowper Temples, and they went over the details.

“I am so glad,” writes Miss M‘Laren, “that you have succeeded so well, and find Mr. Cowper Temple such a nice man and energetic besides,—and trust all may go well. I am not afraid of opposition at all, but what I do fear is that at this late season it may not get through.”

“I’m really glad,” writes Miss M‘Laren, “that you’ve done so well and found Mr. Cowper Temple to be such a nice and energetic guy—as well as wishing everything goes smoothly. I’m not worried about facing opposition, but what I do fear is that at this late in the season, it might not get approved.”

“Broadlands.

April 15.

To Miss Jex-Blake:

To Ms. Jex-Blake:

... Mr. Ewing consented when I explained the Bill to him, and his name with that of Mr. Gurney and Dr. Cameron are on the back of the Bill. I am not very sanguine of success if a serious opposition should be manifested, but I have hopes that the moderation of the measure may have the effect of not calling forth the latent antagonism that exists against the cause.

... Mr. Ewing agreed when I explained the Bill to him, and his name, along with Mr. Gurney’s and Dr. Cameron’s, is on the back of the Bill. I'm not very optimistic about success if there is strong opposition, but I hope that the moderate nature of the measure might prevent any hidden resistance to the cause from emerging.

411But whether the Bill passes or not, it must advance the cause, for at least we shall have a good debate on the subject.

411But whether the bill passes or not, it has to move the cause forward, because at the very least, we will have a good discussion about the topic.

I talked to Sir W. Maxwell when I first thought of undertaking a Bill and I found that he took the view that in his representative position as Rector of Edinburgh University he ought not to take a part in a question in which there is so much difference of opinion and warmth of feeling. I have fixed Friday 24th for the second reading, but am not at all sure that it can come on that evening as there will be many questions before it.

I spoke with Sir W. Maxwell when I first considered introducing a Bill, and I discovered that he felt, as the Rector of Edinburgh University, he shouldn't get involved in an issue with so much disagreement and strong emotions. I've scheduled the second reading for Friday the 24th, but I'm not certain it will happen that evening since there will be several questions to address beforehand.

I return to London tomorrow.

I'm going back to London tomorrow.

Yours—[illegibly],

W.C. Temple.

The names on the back of the Bill are

Mr. Cowper Temple,
Mr. Russell Gurney,
Mr. Orr Ewing,
Dr. Cameron.”

There was much discussion as to the desirability of keeping quiet about the Bill, and allowing it to slip through, if possible, without arousing all the energies of the opposition.

There was a lot of talk about whether it would be better to stay silent about the Bill and let it pass, if possible, without stirring up all the efforts of those opposing it.

“10 Regent Terrace,
Edinburgh.
April 1, 1874.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Best thanks for your letter. From what it says and from what I had heard before to the same effect from Miss M‘Laren, I have not the least doubt of the practical wisdom of the limitation of the Bill to the Scottish Universities. The difficulty of taking such differently-constituted Universities along in the Bill has struck me so far; but I had not thought of the special difficulty that might arise from jealousy of the divided powers of the University of London. But, while our Bill goes on alone, there is no reason why the other universities should not be moving, each for itself, and all such movement would help ours.

Thanks a lot for your letter. Based on what you wrote and what I heard earlier from Miss M‘Laren, I have no doubt that limiting the Bill to the Scottish Universities is a smart move. I've noticed the challenge of including such differently-structured universities in the Bill; however, I hadn't considered the specific issue that might come from the rivalry regarding the divided powers of the University of London. But, while our Bill moves forward on its own, there's no reason why the other universities can't be acting independently, and all such actions would benefit ours.

I am not so sure of the policy of silence about our Bill. Miss M‘Laren will have told you that Dr. Lyon Playfair has alarmed our people here by informing them of it, and asking their opinion. There is a Committee on watch with power to call a Senatus meeting when the Bill is perfectly known. Possibly, when they see it, they may feel inclined to do nothing, seeing that it only legitimises the power the University thought it possessed when it passed the regulations; but no one can tell. All that Dr. L. P. wanted was advice for himself; and nothing, even of that kind, can be done collectively, 412except by Senatus—as the Committee is for observation only. Still the matter is public; and individuals may be at work. Also the fact and drift of the Bill have been mentioned in the newspapers, e.g. by the London correspondent of the Glasgow Mail. If, in these circumstances, you are of opinion that the memorial to Mr. Disraeli may be published, please return my copy with the signatures; and I will send it to our three papers here—where perhaps it ought to appear first. But you will, of course, act with the advice of Mr. Cowper Temple and others; and I won’t publish till you give the word. Anyhow it might be best to return the memorial to me. A telegraph from you would then tell me to publish any day—if not immediately.

I'm not so sure about the policy of silence regarding our Bill. Miss M'Laren has probably told you that Dr. Lyon Playfair has alarmed our people here by informing them about it and asking for their opinions. There’s a Committee on alert with the authority to call a Senatus meeting once the Bill is fully understood. Once they see it, they may decide to do nothing since it just legitimizes the power that the University believed it had when it passed the regulations; but no one can say for sure. All Dr. L. P. wanted was advice for himself, and nothing, even that, can be done collectively, 412 except by the Senatus—since the Committee is only for observation. Still, the matter is public and individuals might be working on it. Also, the details and direction of the Bill have been mentioned in the newspapers, for instance, by the London correspondent of the Glasgow Mail. If you think that in this situation the memorial to Mr. Disraeli can be published, please send back my copy with the signatures, and I’ll send it to our three papers here—where it probably should appear first. But you should, of course, act on the advice of Mr. Cowper Temple and others; and I won’t publish until you give the go-ahead. In any case, it might be best to return the memorial to me. A telegraph from you would then tell me to publish any day—if not immediately.

Yours very truly,

David Masson.”

“April 15, 1874.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

After reading today the Scotsman’s report of the introduction of the Bill, and observing how quietly and cautiously it seems to be framed (‘to remove doubts as to the powers’ etc.)^[124] I have thought it better not at once to publish the memorial. If there is any possibility that the Bill will be let through without opposition, our memorial, as more strongly expressed, might interfere with this. At all events I have thought it most prudent not to be in a hurry, but to wait a day or two till we see how Mr. C. T.’s Bill is received among the probable enemies. Very likely they will move against it somehow,—secretly if not publicly; and, if we find this, then our memorial ought to come out as a contribution to the argument. You will perhaps hear how Dr. Lyon Playfair and Mr. Gordon act in London: I will observe here. Perhaps I am prudent in excess; but, once the memorial is out, it is past recall.

After reading today's Scotsman report on the introduction of the Bill and noticing how quietly and carefully it seems to be put together (‘to remove doubts as to the powers’ etc.)^[124], I think it's better not to publish the memorial just yet. If there's any chance the Bill might go through without any opposition, our stronger memorial could get in the way of that. In any case, I believe it’s wise not to rush and to wait a day or two to see how Mr. C. T.’s Bill is received by those likely to oppose it. They may very well try to fight against it, either secretly or openly; if that happens, then our memorial should be released as part of the discussion. You might hear how Dr. Lyon Playfair and Mr. Gordon respond in London: I’ll keep an eye on that. Maybe I'm being overly cautious; but once the memorial is out, there's no going back.

Yours very truly,

David Masson.”

“83 Belgrave Road, S.W.

16th April, 1874.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

The bill has been introduced by Mr. Cowper Temple, and my name is one of those on its back. If it could be smuggled through it would of course save a great deal of time and trouble, but I am afraid it is of no use to think of that. The moment it is published the bill will be telegraphed to all the Scotch papers, and every 413professor in every university, and almost every medical man throughout Scotland, will perceive its drift. Moreover you must remember that the Lord Advocate is member for Glasgow and Aberdeen University, and will have to keep his constituents well posted up in everything affecting their interests. If I see anything concerning the measure in the Scotch papers, I shall forward it to you, and meanwhile remain

The bill has been introduced by Mr. Cowper Temple, and my name is one of those listed on it. If it could be quietly pushed through, it would save a lot of time and hassle, but I'm afraid there's no point in thinking about that. As soon as it's announced, the bill will be sent to all the Scottish papers, and every professor at every university, as well as almost every doctor in Scotland, will understand what it’s about. Also, keep in mind that the Lord Advocate represents Glasgow and Aberdeen University, and he will need to keep his constituents informed about anything that affects their interests. If I come across anything about the bill in the Scottish papers, I’ll send it to you, and in the meantime, I remain

Yours very sincerely,

Charles Cameron.

Miss Jex-Blake.”

Miss Jex-Blake.

So the glove was thrown down, and, as Dr. Cameron had predicted, the news of it was instantly flashed from Dan to Beersheba. In a very short time 65 petitions in favour of the Bill were presented to Parliament, three of these being from the Town Councils of Edinburgh, Aberdeen, and Linlithgow. There was also one from the City of Edinburgh, and one from 16,000 women. The most important, perhaps, was from twenty-six Professors of Scottish Universities, including eight (out of fourteen) Professors of the University of St. Andrews,—among them the Rev. Principal Tulloch,—and thirteen Professors of the University of Edinburgh. If Glasgow was poorly represented in number, the women had all the more reason to be proud of the weight of the two names,—John and Edward Caird. There was also a petition from those Edinburgh lecturers who had actually taught the women.

So the challenge was thrown down, and, as Dr. Cameron had predicted, the news quickly spread from Dan to Beersheba. In no time, 65 petitions supporting the Bill were presented to Parliament, three of which came from the Town Councils of Edinburgh, Aberdeen, and Linlithgow. There was also one from the City of Edinburgh and another from 16,000 women. Perhaps the most significant was from twenty-six Professors of Scottish Universities, including eight (out of fourteen) Professors from the University of St. Andrews—among them the Rev. Principal Tulloch—and thirteen Professors from the University of Edinburgh. If Glasgow was underrepresented in numbers, the women had even more reason to be proud of the impressive support from two names—John and Edward Caird. Additionally, there was a petition from those Edinburgh lecturers who had actually taught the women.

Against the Bill there were four petitions:

Against the Bill, there were four petitions:

1. From the University Court of Edinburgh.

2. From the Senatus of Edinburgh University.

2. From the Senate of Edinburgh University.

3. From the Medical Faculty of the Senatus (probably identical with 2).

3. From the Medical Faculty of the Senatus (most likely the same as 2).

4. From the University of Glasgow.

The second reading of the Bill was fixed for April 24th, but at the urgent request of Dr. Lyon Playfair, member for the University of Edinburgh, it was postponed to a later date (“in order that his University might have time to consider the subject”!) when the pressure of business made it impossible to secure any day: or, as Miss M‘Laren had predicted, it failed to “get through.” And so the whole question was practically shelved for another year.

The second reading of the Bill was scheduled for April 24th, but at the urgent request of Dr. Lyon Playfair, the representative for the University of Edinburgh, it was postponed to a later date (“so that his University could have time to think about the issue”!); when the workload became overwhelming, it was impossible to find any available day or, as Miss M‘Laren had predicted, it didn’t “get through.” As a result, the entire issue was basically put on hold for another year.

414There was an interesting debate on the motion, however, on June 12th, 1874, when able speeches were made by Mr. Cowper Temple, Mr. Stansfeld and others,—the two members for Edinburgh (Town and Gown) providing an almost dramatic contrast.

414There was an engaging debate on the motion, though, on June 12, 1874, when strong speeches were delivered by Mr. Cowper Temple, Mr. Stansfeld, and others—the two representatives for Edinburgh (Town and Gown) creating an almost dramatic contrast.

Mr. M‘Laren (Town), hard-headed, shrewd man of business, bluntly declared that “if it were a question to be decided by the intelligent inhabitants of Edinburgh, nine-tenths would vote in its favour.... If two or three of the professors would only take a voyage round the world, the whole question would be satisfactorily settled before they returned. (Laughter.) Where the male students paid three or four guineas for each class, the ladies paid eight or ten guineas, so that money was no obstacle. There was no difficulty, in fact, except want of will, and that arose from medical prejudice,—at least that was the opinion of the great majority of the people in Edinburgh.”

Mr. M‘Laren (Town), a hard-headed, shrewd businessman, bluntly stated that “if it were up to the smart people of Edinburgh, nine out of ten would vote in favor of it.... If a couple of the professors would just take a trip around the world, the whole issue would be settled before they got back. (Laughter.) While the male students paid three or four guineas for each class, the women paid eight or ten guineas, so money wasn’t really an issue. The real problem was just a lack of will, and that came from medical bias — at least that’s what most people in Edinburgh thought.”

Dr. Lyon Playfair (Gown), scholar, courtier, man-of-the-world, had a harder task. Even Punch was moved to sympathy with him “as one in a perplexity between his constituents and his convictions.”

Dr. Lyon Playfair (Gown), scholar, courtier, worldly man, had a tougher job. Even Punch felt sympathy for him “as someone caught in a dilemma between his constituents and his beliefs.”

In any case the whole question had entered on a new phase, there was fresh enthusiasm for the cause, and, on the other hand, those who had looked upon the idea of women doctors as an amusing absurdity, were roused to perturbation and alarm.

In any case, the whole issue had entered a new phase, there was renewed enthusiasm for the cause, and, on the other hand, those who had seen the idea of women doctors as a silly joke were stirred to worry and concern.

415

CHAPTER XVIII
THE LONDON SCHOOL OF MEDICINE FOR WOMEN

It is a terrible thing for a hasty, impulsive, faulty human being to be placed as S. J.-B. was at this time, in a difficult position—on a slippery ridge, as it were—in the eye of the whole world. It has been said before that few people ventured to “lecture” her: she liked to hear the truth, and, when her friends were prepared to risk all, she took their faithful dealing magnanimously, often nobly: but somehow she made adverse criticism very difficult. It was said of her that she would have made an excellent advocate,—she had so keen an eye for the strong points of her own position and the weak points of those of her adversaries; and it is only fair to say that, in conversation with her, many people might well be simply carried away. In a sort of esprit d’escalier—or jugement d’escalier—they might see the other side of the question, and sometimes they wrote a qualifying letter to say so; but we know how few people are prepared in life to take that amount of trouble in a matter that does not intimately concern themselves. It is so much easier to sympathize with those who confide to us their troubles and difficulties, and then to vent our jugement d’escalier on the man we meet in the street below. In the course of her life S. J.-B. got more than her share of that kind of sympathy.

It's a terrible thing for a hasty, impulsive, flawed person to be put in a tough spot—like S. J.-B. was at that time—under the scrutiny of the entire world. It has been mentioned before that few people dared to “lecture” her: she appreciated hearing the truth, and when her friends were willing to risk everything, she accepted their honest feedback with grace, often nobly. However, she somehow made it difficult for anyone to criticize her. People said she would have made an excellent lawyer—she had such a sharp eye for the strengths of her own case and the weaknesses of her opponents. It's fair to say that many people could easily get swept up in a conversation with her. In a kind of staircase wit—or staircase wit—they might see the other side of the argument and sometimes wrote a follow-up letter to express that; but we know how few people are willing to put in that much effort for something that doesn't personally involve them. It’s much easier to empathize with those who share their troubles with us, then to express our staircase judgment about someone we meet on the street. Throughout her life, S. J.-B. received more than her fair share of that kind of sympathy.

We have seen that, in the matter of her examination the year before, she did not admit the justice of her rejection. She was supported in this attitude by the opinion of three or four lecturers and examiners in the subjects for which she had entered, who had read her papers and had cordially 416pronounced them—in writing—to be up to or above the pass standard. Hundreds of people had, of course, expressed to her their belief that she had not been fairly treated, and their sympathy had steadily intensified the impression in her own mind. She would have accepted Huxley’s verdict loyally, if all the papers handed in at that examination could have been submitted to him. No one who reads one paper only can possibly say—except by an exercise of faith in his fellow creatures—whether worse papers have been accepted and better rejected, or no. It would have been strange indeed if Huxley had not had that amount of faith in his colleagues.

We saw that during her exam the year before, she didn’t accept the fairness of her rejection. She was backed in this belief by three or four lecturers and examiners in the subjects she took, who read her papers and confidently stated—in writing—that they met or exceeded the passing standard. Naturally, hundreds of people had told her they believed she wasn’t treated fairly, and their sympathy only reinforced her own feelings. She would have accepted Huxley’s judgment wholeheartedly if all the papers submitted in that exam could have been shown to him. No one reading just one paper can reasonably claim—unless they completely trust their fellow humans—whether worse papers were accepted while better ones were rejected. It would have been quite odd if Huxley hadn’t had that level of trust in his colleagues.

From the moment of Dr. (afterwards Sir Wyville) Thomson’s appointment to the Chair of Biology, S. J.-B. had dreaded him as an examiner, on the ground that he was altogether adverse to the women. “You will receive no insolence from him,” Professor Tait had written to her in 1871, “but I fear that is all I can say, though it is something.” And previously, “although he is not in your favour, he is not a man to take any mean or unfair advantage.”

From the moment Dr. (later Sir Wyville) Thomson was appointed to the Chair of Biology, S. J.-B. had dreaded him as an examiner because he was completely against women. “You won’t face any rudeness from him,” Professor Tait had written to her in 1871, “but I'm afraid that's all I can say, though it is something.” And earlier, “even though he’s not on your side, he’s not the type to take any petty or unfair advantage.”

She ought, of course, to have accepted this judgment once for all as that of a just man, but from the time of her examination the conviction that she had been unfairly treated never wavered, though the whole matter was, she thought, a thing of the past forever.

She should have accepted this judgment as that of a fair person, but ever since her examination, the belief that she had been treated unfairly never changed, even though she thought the whole thing was behind her forever.

In a great controversy, however, nothing may ever be safely assumed to be a thing of the past. It seems to be buried forever, but it lies at the mercy of any chance turn of the spade.

In a major controversy, though, nothing can ever be taken for granted as something that's in the past. It may seem to be buried forever, but it's always vulnerable to a random twist of fate.

And this brings us back to the point where Dr. Lyon Playfair, “in a perplexity between his constituents and his convictions”—those constituents meaning to all intents and purposes the “two or three Professors” for whom the Member for Edinburgh had recommended a voyage round the world as a means of solving the whole difficulty—Dr. Lyon Playfair had so availed himself of the machinery of Parliament as to shelve the whole question indefinitely.

And this brings us back to the point where Dr. Lyon Playfair, "caught between his constituents and his beliefs"—those constituents essentially referring to the "two or three Professors" for whom the Member for Edinburgh had suggested a world tour as a way to resolve the entire issue—Dr. Lyon Playfair had used the tools of Parliament to put the entire question on hold indefinitely.

One quite realizes that by this time it was war to the knife on both sides, and one refrains from unduly criticising either; but it is S. J.-B. whose life we are considering, and there 417can be no doubt that for her—overworked and overstrained as she was—the situation was very hard to bear.

One definitely understands that by this time it was all-out war on both sides, and one holds back from overly criticizing either; but it is S. J.-B.'s life we are examining, and there 417 is no doubt that for her—overworked and stressed as she was—the situation was really tough to deal with.

And now the discussion in Parliament, literally bringing the question “into the range of practical politics,” had stirred up all the latent objection to the idea of women doctors, and had brought every weapon into play. One can dimly conjecture the number and variety of assaults that must have been made on the leading newspapers, and it is small wonder if some of them were sorely unsettled, so much so that “the pulpit spake pure Canterbury in the morning and Geneva in the afternoon.”

And now the debate in Parliament, literally bringing the issue “into the realm of practical politics,” had stirred up all the hidden opposition to the idea of women doctors and had unleashed every tactic available. One can only guess at the number and variety of attacks that must have been directed at the major newspapers, and it's no surprise if some of them were quite disturbed, to the point that “the pulpit spoke pure Canterbury in the morning and Geneva in the afternoon.”

Even the Times began to talk of “all the delicacies and best charms” of woman’s nature, and took occasion to say in a leading article, “It is a little amusing, indeed, that one of the Ladies who had rendered herself most conspicuous, should after all have failed under the test of examination.” The writer did not add—perhaps he had not been informed—that three of the fellow-students of that conspicuous Lady had successfully passed the examination in question in a previous year; but the playful taunt—if taunt it was—was more than the generous spirit of one of those successful candidates could stand. She wrote an impulsive letter, mentioning S. J.-B. by name, and explaining that it was “devotion to our cause which led to her failure,” that “she had borne the brunt of the battle, and had spared her fellow-students all the harass and worry of the struggle, and had thus enabled them to enjoy the leisure requisite for passing their examinations.”

Even the Times started discussing “all the delicacies and best charms” of a woman’s nature and commented in a leading article, “It’s a bit amusing, really, that one of the Ladies who stood out the most ended up failing the examination.” The writer didn’t mention—maybe he didn’t know—that three of that standout Lady's fellow students had successfully passed the exam the year before; however, the playful jab—if it was a jab—was more than one of those successful candidates could ignore. She wrote an impulsive letter, mentioning S. J.-B. by name, explaining that it was “devotion to our cause that caused her failure,” that “she had taken on the toughest parts of the battle, and had shielded her fellow students from all the stress and hassle of the struggle, allowing them to enjoy the time they needed to pass their exams.”

Of course the writer should have consulted S. J.-B. before sending this letter to the Times, but apparently it never occurred to her that the defence might not be acceptable to the one defended. In any case, the letter came upon S. J.-B. like a thunderbolt, and she committed the great and crowning mistake of her life,—she wrote a letter to the Times, implying in effect that in the matter of the examination, she did not believe she had been fairly treated.

Of course, the writer should have talked to S. J.-B. before sending this letter to the Times, but it seems she never thought that the defense might not be welcomed by the person being defended. In any case, the letter hit S. J.-B. like a bolt of lightning, and she made the biggest mistake of her life—she wrote a letter to the Times, implying that she didn’t think she was treated fairly during the examination.

It was quite a temperate letter from her point of view, but—as her brother had said—she was throwing pebbles at a fortress, and, what was worse, throwing them under the gaze of the whole civilized world.

It was a pretty mild letter from her perspective, but—as her brother had said—she was tossing pebbles at a fortress, and, even worse, doing it under the watchful eyes of the entire civilized world.

418If Professor Crum Brown had done the Women’s Cause a service by denying to Miss Pechey the name and privileges of Hope Scholar, S. J.-B. had now repaid that service to him and his colleagues, full measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over.

418If Professor Crum Brown had helped the Women’s Cause by denying Miss Pechey the title and benefits of Hope Scholar, S. J.-B. has now returned that favor to him and his colleagues in abundance.

Under the mighty Ægis of the University of Edinburgh, the examiners replied, and Professor Huxley himself entered the controversy in defence of his friend, Dr. Wyville Thomson, who was away on the “Challenger” Expedition at the time.

Under the powerful protection of the University of Edinburgh, the examiners responded, and Professor Huxley himself got involved in the debate to defend his friend, Dr. Wyville Thomson, who was off on the “Challenger” Expedition at the time.

Miss Pechey was only restrained by prudent friends from publishing a generous letter in which she expressed her conviction that, if Professor Huxley had examined the Edinburgh students, 90 per cent. of them would have failed, and she added a paragraph which shows at least how differently a great institution may look when regarded from two different points of view:

Miss Pechey was only stopped by careful friends from publishing a bold letter in which she stated her belief that if Professor Huxley had assessed the Edinburgh students, 90 percent of them would have failed. She included a paragraph that illustrates how differently a major institution can appear when viewed from two distinct perspectives:

“It is really amusing to those who know anything of the constitution of the University to find [the Examiners] gravely suggesting that [S. J.-B.] could have appealed to the Medical Faculty, the Senatus, and the University Court. The names have an imposing sound, but, when one comes to consider, the Medical Faculty resolves itself into the medical examiners, the Senatus (at that time of the year, before the arts professors had returned for the winter) into the Medical Faculty, whilst the University Court is in reality the mouthpiece of one member who I fear would turn a deaf ear to any appeal from Miss Jex-Blake.”

“It’s quite amusing for those who understand the structure of the University to see [the Examiners] seriously suggesting that [S. J.-B.] could have appealed to the Medical Faculty, the Senatus, and the University Court. The names sound impressive, but when you think about it, the Medical Faculty really consists of the medical examiners, the Senatus (at that time of year, before the arts professors had returned for the winter) boils down to the Medical Faculty, while the University Court is essentially the voice of one member who I fear would ignore any appeal from Miss Jex-Blake.”

Well, there it was! If the cause could have been killed, this mistake might probably have killed it. If S. J.-B. could have been crushed, this mistake would have crushed her. But the cause was intensely vital, and S. J.-B. was tough.

Well, there it was! If the cause could have been stopped, this mistake might have ended it. If S. J.-B. could have been defeated, this mistake would have taken her down. But the cause was incredibly strong, and S. J.-B. was resilient.

One falls back once more on Newman’s brave and comforting words:

One relies again on Newman’s courageous and reassuring words:

“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.”

“The faults of a person draw attention—he may lose, but his cause (if it’s just and he’s strong-minded) benefits—this is how things work; we advance truth through self-sacrifice.”

S. J.-B. was just starting on her holiday when the correspondence took place, and, although Miss Stevenson and Mrs. Thorne both wrote to tell her of the “irreparable” 419damage it had done, most of her friends and supporters were disposed to let her enjoy her holiday—if she could—in peace.

S. J.-B. was just beginning her vacation when the letters were exchanged, and even though Miss Stevenson and Mrs. Thorne both reached out to inform her of the “irreparable” damage it had caused, most of her friends and supporters were willing to let her enjoy her holiday—if she was able to—without any disturbances.

So, in the silence and repose of a sojourn in Perthshire, she laid her future plans.

So, in the quiet and calm of a stay in Perthshire, she made her future plans.

As early as December 6th, 1873, Dr. Anstie had written to her:

As early as December 6, 1873, Dr. Anstie had written to her:

“Dear Madam,

"Dear Ma'am,"

I am afraid I do not see my way to any practical plan at present.

I’m afraid I can’t come up with any practical plan right now.

“At Westminster it is quite possible that my colleagues would consent to separate classes. But the fatal objection is want of space; and I could not, I feel sure, persuade them to try the experiment of mixed classes.

“At Westminster, it's quite possible that my colleagues would agree to separate classes. But the big problem is the lack of space, and I’m sure I couldn’t convince them to try mixing the classes.”

I fear there is no way, except by the ladies raising money enough to found a school for themselves. In that case I, and I think others, would be willing to go out of our way to afford them teaching. But the difficulties about clinical teaching seem very great.

I’m worried there’s no other option except for the women to raise enough money to create a school for themselves. In that case, I, along with others, would be willing to go out of our way to provide them teaching. But the challenges around clinical teaching seem really significant.

I will talk the matter over with my colleague, Mr. Cowell, and write to you again....”

I will discuss the matter with my colleague, Mr. Cowell, and write to you again....”

“16 Wimpole Street,

Dec. 12th.

Dear Madam,

Hi Ma'am,

Three or four days of complete prostration with influenza have prevented me from finding time to talk with Mr. Cowell.

Three or four days of being completely knocked out by the flu have stopped me from finding time to talk with Mr. Cowell.

But as regards the Westminster Hospital School I think it very unlikely that any proposition would be entertained with regard to surrendering our position as teachers of male students....

But when it comes to the Westminster Hospital School, I think it's very unlikely that any proposal would be considered about giving up our role as teachers of male students....

I think (so far as I can at present judge) that your best course would be to take some premises in London, and build a thoroughly good school, fit for first-class teaching of the theoretical courses. I believe if that were done you would get teachers. And with that solid evidence of sincerity and energy in your work I believe the hospitals, or some of them, would give way and grant you hospital practice.

I think, based on what I can tell right now, that your best move would be to find some property in London and establish a really good school, suitable for top-notch teaching of the theoretical courses. I believe if you do that, you would attract teachers. And with that clear demonstration of commitment and drive in your work, I think the hospitals, or at least some of them, would agree to give you hospital practice.

But this is only my first crude idea. Believe me,

But this is just my first rough idea. Trust me,

Yours very faithfully,

Francis Ed. Anstie.”

It is impossible to over-estimate the whole-heartedness with which Dr. Anstie took up the cause. There are numerous letters in which he records the various advances and checks which he experienced in the course of his advocacy. For a 420time he had hopes of inducing his own School to admit women, but the matter got wind, and an adverse medical paper raised all that latent opposition with which the pioneers were becoming so familiar. From this point of view the discussion in Parliament did, for the moment, as much harm as good, and finally we find Dr. Anstie writing:

It’s impossible to overstate how passionately Dr. Anstie embraced the cause. There are numerous letters where he details the various progress and setbacks he faced while advocating. For a 420 period, he hoped to convince his own School to admit women, but word got out, and a negative medical article stirred up all the hidden opposition that pioneers had become all too familiar with. From this perspective, the discussion in Parliament did, for a time, cause as much harm as good, and ultimately we find Dr. Anstie writing:

“16 Wimpole Street,

July 2.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

For the moment we are thoroughly defeated, and it may be well to rest on our oars for a little time. You will probably have heard of the rejection by the Senate of U. L. of the proposition about degrees, and I wrote to tell you that I also found it was impossible to induce my colleagues at Westminster to open a female department of the School.

For now, we’re completely defeated, and it might be a good idea to take a break for a while. You’ve probably heard that the Senate rejected U. L.'s proposal regarding degrees, and I wanted to let you know that I also found it impossible to convince my colleagues at Westminster to start a female department for the School.

I think there is nothing for it now but to make up your minds to form a school for yourselves. Were that once done I do not think there would be any very great difficulty in obtaining clinical instruction and in becoming recognized by some of the corporations.

I believe the only option left is for you to decide to create a school for yourselves. Once you do that, I don't think it would be very hard to get clinical training and gain recognition from some of the organizations.

I am sorry to have had no better luck as your champion. But there is no doubt just now for some reason or other, a strong current of adverse opinion. As I said before I think you and the other ladies should take counsel with your friends, and (without renewal of the discussion in public) should set to work upon the scheme of a school.

I’m sorry I haven’t been a better champion for you. But right now, there’s definitely a strong wave of negative opinion for some reason. As I mentioned before, I believe you and the other ladies should consult with your friends, and (without reopening the discussion in public) start working on the plan for a school.

I feel little doubt that, if you could show the positive evidence of energy and resource afforded by the establishment of a separate school in London, you would get both sympathy and teaching help.

I have no doubt that if you could provide clear proof of the energy and resources involved in setting up a separate school in London, you would receive both support and teaching assistance.

Believe me,
Yours sincerely,
F.E. Anstie.”

Mr. Norton, too, of St. Mary’s Hospital, assured S. J.-B. that “a thoroughly good school might be organised, apart from the existing schools, but with friendly lecturers gathered from any or all of them.” This suggestion obviated the very real difficulty of getting fresh lecturers “recognised.”

Mr. Norton, also from St. Mary’s Hospital, assured S. J.-B. that “a really good school could be set up, separate from the existing schools, but with friendly lecturers brought in from any or all of them.” This suggestion addressed the genuine challenge of getting new lecturers “recognized.”

Mrs. Anderson still thought the time was not ripe: Mrs. Thorne was in Paris ^[125]: the other students were scattered far and wide for the holidays. From every point of view it seemed 421imperative that the winter session should be secured: so, with the help of the two men mentioned above and of Dr. King Chambers, S. J.-B. simply did the work herself.

Mrs. Anderson still believed the time wasn't right: Mrs. Thorne was in Paris ^[125]: the other students were spread out all over for the holidays. From every angle, it seemed essential to secure the winter session: so, with the help of the two men mentioned earlier and Dr. King Chambers, S. J.-B. just handled the work herself.

The record is brief enough,—there has been no entry in the diary since June 23rd: no reference to the Times controversy at all:

The record is short enough—there hasn’t been an entry in the diary since June 23rd: no mention of the Times controversy at all:

“August 11th. Tuesday. To London, in one day [from Perthshire]. To Hampstead. Rested one day.

August 13th. Thursday. To Anstie and Norton. Both encouraging and helpful.”

August 13th. Thursday. To Anstie and Norton. Both supportive and useful.

Follows another of those sheaves of blank pages which always indicate intense activity or preoccupation; and her book, Medical Women, just touches on “an almost incredible amount of search, enquiry and disappointment”; there are various stray lists of lecturers, possible, probable and certain; and then we proceed without farther entry to:

Follows another one of those stacks of blank pages that usually show a lot of intense activity or deep thinking; and her book, Medical Women, just mentions “an almost unbelievable amount of searching, questioning, and disappointment”; there are various random lists of lecturers—possible, likely, and definite; and then we move on without any further notes to:

“Sept. 15th. Actually signed lease and got possession of 30 Henrietta ^[126] Street. Rigged up some kind of beds and slept there that night,—Alice coming from Wales to help me.”

“Sept. 15th. I officially signed the lease and took possession of 30 Henrietta ^[126] Street. I set up some makeshift beds and slept there that night, with Alice coming from Wales to help me.”

Here there is a footnote:

Here’s a footnote:

“Miss Irby also came for a night one day this month,—grand, quiet, strong.”

“Miss Irby also came for a night one day this month—amazing, calm, powerful.”

Another blank page or two, and then:

“Oct. 9th. Friday. Entered into 32 Bernard Street,^[127] Mother and all. (She nearly extinguished by mattress!)

“Oct. 9th. Friday. Arrived at 32 Bernard Street,^[127] Mom and everyone. (She almost got smothered by the mattress!)

Oct. 12th. Monday. Opening of London School of Medicine for Women.”

Oct. 12th. Monday. Opening of the London School of Medicine for Women.

There is no farther entry till 1875. We owe to a stranger, however, the following pleasant description of the School as it was then:

There are no further entries until 1875. We owe a stranger the following nice description of the School as it was at that time:

“For the early existence of an institution like this School of Medicine no more appropriate home could in all probability be found within the wide area of London than the curious old house in Henrietta Street. In a central position, within easy reach of museums and libraries, but retired from the bustle of noisy thoroughfares, a 422range of spacious rooms stretches a long front towards the green sward of an old-fashioned garden. Apartments admirably adapted for the purpose of lecture halls ‘give,’ as the Americans say, from underneath a broad verandah on this pleasant outlook. Cosy in winter, cool in summer, and undisturbed by the sounds of external life always, these rooms should be highly favourable to philosophic contemplation. In the upper story—there is only one above the ground-floor—are several smaller apartments suitable for museums and reading-rooms.”—Daily News, March 13, 1877.

“For the early days of an institution like this School of Medicine, there couldn't be a more fitting home in all of London than the quirky old house on Henrietta Street. It's centrally located, easily accessible to museums and libraries, yet tucked away from the noise of busy streets. A range of spacious rooms stretches a long front facing the green space of a traditional garden. Rooms perfectly suited for lecture halls open up from under a wide verandah, offering this lovely view. Cozy in winter, cool in summer, and always free from outside noise, these rooms are ideal for deep thought. On the upper floor—there's only one above the ground floor—are several smaller rooms perfect for museums and reading areas.”—Daily News, March 13, 1877.

How deep was the impression made upon Miss Irby by that brief visit we gather from a letter written twenty years later (on July 5th, 1894):

How deeply Miss Irby was affected by that short visit is clear from a letter she wrote twenty years later (on July 5th, 1894):

“I was on the point of writing to you after the prize-giving at the London School of Medicine for Women. A visit to those premises always recalls to me those few days with you when you stood there alone in almost bare walls, establishing the fort. You would wish nothing better than that the School should go on as it is going on, friends and foes being drawn into it. But I always burn with the recollection of your first days there.”

"I was just about to write to you after the award ceremony at the London School of Medicine for Women. Visiting that place always reminds me of those few days with you when you stood there alone in almost empty rooms, building the foundation. You would want nothing more than for the School to continue thriving as it is, with friends and foes drawn in. But I always burn with the memory of your first days there."

423

CHAPTER XIX
THE RUSSELL GURNEY ENABLING ACT

It was at this stage that Mrs. Anderson’s help was so invaluable to the great venture. She had an assured position—social and professional—in the metropolis; and her name carried the weight that belongs to a sane and shrewd and able personality. It is impossible to over-estimate the good she had done to “the Cause” by simply showing that a woman can be a reliable and successful practitioner. She had founded a small hospital for women; but she still thought that the time for the creation of a good medical school for women had not come,—that it would have been better to wait till public opinion was more distinctly in favour of women doctors: and she would have fostered the growth of public opinion by encouraging women to obtain foreign degrees, and to practise in England as unregistered physicians and surgeons.

At this point, Mrs. Anderson’s help was incredibly valuable to the big project. She held a respected position—socially and professionally—in the city; and her name carried the credibility that comes with being a sensible, wise, and capable person. It's hard to measure the positive impact she had on “the Cause” just by demonstrating that a woman can be a reliable and successful practitioner. She had started a small hospital for women; however, she still believed that the time for establishing a reputable medical school for women hadn’t arrived yet—that it would be better to wait until public opinion was more clearly in favor of women doctors. She aimed to nurture that public opinion by encouraging women to earn foreign degrees and practice in England as unregistered physicians and surgeons.

She was strengthened in this position by the fact that S. J.-B. was not the Founder she would have chosen: she judged the Edinburgh campaign by its net result as regarded the immediate object at which it had aimed, and, so far as Edinburgh University was concerned, that net result was failure. There were those, moreover, who assured her, not without a measure of truth, that Miss Jex-Blake’s impulsiveness (“want of judgment,” “want of temper,” she told S. J.-B.) had done great harm in Edinburgh. She and her informants alike failed, perhaps, at the moment to realize how that same impulsiveness (mistakes and all) had formed the picturesque element that made the popular appeal,—how 424that same impulsiveness had roused and had borne the brunt of the latent opposition which must have manifested itself sooner or later under the wisest management.

She felt more confident in her stance because S. J.-B. wasn't the leader she would have picked: she evaluated the Edinburgh campaign based on its outcome regarding its immediate goal, and as far as Edinburgh University was concerned, that outcome was a failure. There were also people who assured her, not entirely without reason, that Miss Jex-Blake's impulsiveness (“lack of judgment,” “lack of temper,” she told S. J.-B.) had caused significant problems in Edinburgh. She and her sources might not have realized at the time how that same impulsiveness (mistakes and all) created the colorful aspect that drew people in—how that same impulsiveness had sparked and handled the underlying opposition that would have surfaced eventually, regardless of how wisely it was managed.

There is abundant contemporary evidence to this effect. Dr. Mary Putnam Jacobi wrote from America:

There is a lot of current evidence to support this. Dr. Mary Putnam Jacobi wrote from America:

“You have fortunately been able to interest a much larger and better class of people than have ever bestirred themselves in the matter here. The list of governors of your School is quite imposing. You at least have had the advantage attaching to a conspicuous battle with real and dignified forces engaged on each side; whereas here,—this question, as so many others, has rather dribbled into the sand.”

“You’ve luckily been able to capture the interest of a much larger and better group of people than anyone here has ever managed. The list of governors for your School is pretty impressive. At the very least, you’ve had the benefit of being involved in a notable conflict with significant and respectable forces on both sides; whereas here, this issue, like so many others, has sort of fizzled out.”

Miss Pechey, too, after delivering a lecture in Yorkshire a year later, wrote:

Miss Pechey, too, after giving a talk in Yorkshire a year later, wrote:

“I couldn’t conclude without saying that all we had done towards opening up the medical profession to women was due mainly to Miss Jex-Blake, who had got all the abuse because she had done all the work,—in fact all along she had done the work of three women or (with a grin at the phalanx of men behind)—of ten men! This brought down the house.”

“I can’t finish without mentioning that everything we achieved in making the medical profession accessible to women was mainly because of Miss Jex-Blake, who received all the criticism because she did all the work—really, she had done the work of three women or (with a chuckle at the group of men behind) of ten men! This got a big reaction.”

“Mrs. Garrett Anderson is a fine instance of an individual success,” said one of the physicians who assisted the movement in those early days; “but Miss Jex-Blake fights the battle, not for herself, but for all.”

“Mrs. Garrett Anderson is a great example of personal success,” said one of the doctors who helped with the movement back then; “but Miss Jex-Blake is fighting the fight, not just for herself, but for everyone.”

Of course an individual success cannot but assist a movement of the kind quite as surely as any other contribution.

Certainly, personal success can only help a movement just as effectively as any other contribution.

One thing the two pioneers had in common,—a fine honesty and truthfulness: much plain speaking passed between them: and, if it had been possible for two such different natures to see things eye to eye, no want of candour or breadth of view on either side would have prevented it. Here is a sample of their correspondence:

One thing the two pioneers shared was a strong sense of honesty and truthfulness. They had many straightforward conversations, and if it had been possible for two such different personalities to understand each other completely, neither would have lacked openness or perspective. Here is a sample of their correspondence:

“Hampstead.

21st August, 1874.

Dear Mrs. Anderson,

Dear Mrs. Anderson

If I kept a record of all the people who bring me cock and bull stories about you, and assure me that you are “greatly injuring the cause,” I might fill as many pages with quotations as you have patience to read, but, beyond defending you on a good many occasions, I have never thought it needful to take much notice of such incidents, still less to retail them to you.

If I kept track of everyone who tells me ridiculous stories about you and insists that you're “really hurting the cause,” I could fill as many pages with quotes as you have patience to read. However, besides defending you on several occasions, I've never felt it was necessary to pay much attention to those incidents, much less share them with you.

425Nor do I much care to know whether or no certain anonymous individuals have confided to you that they lay at my door what you call “the failure at Edinburgh,”—inasmuch as the only people really competent to judge of that point are my fellow-workers and fellow-students, such as Professor Masson, Professor Bennett, Miss Stevenson, Mrs. Thorne, Miss Pechey, Dr. Watson, and Dr. Balfour, and I do not fancy that it is from any of these that you have heard the comments in question.

425I'm not really interested in whether certain anonymous people have told you that I'm to blame for what you refer to as “the failure at Edinburgh.” The only ones truly qualified to judge that are my colleagues and fellow students, like Professor Masson, Professor Bennett, Miss Stevenson, Mrs. Thorne, Miss Pechey, Dr. Watson, and Dr. Balfour. I doubt that any of them are the ones who made the comments you've mentioned.

It can, as I say, serve no purpose whatever to go into this sort of gossip which is very rarely indeed founded on any knowledge of facts; but, quite apart from any such discussion, I am more than willing to say that if, in the opinion of a majority of those who are organizing this new school, my name appears likely to injure its chances of success, I will cheerfully stand aside, and let Mrs. Thorne and Miss Pechey carry out the almost completed plans.

It really serves no purpose to engage in this type of gossip, which is rarely based on actual facts. However, aside from that, I’m more than willing to say that if a majority of those organizing this new school believe my name could hurt its chances of success, I will gladly step aside and let Mrs. Thorne and Miss Pechey see the nearly finalized plans through.

So much for your second objection [to joining the Council of the School] which I have taken first, because I feel that the other is for your own consideration and Dr. Anstie’s, and that it is needless for me to say anything on the point.

So much for your second objection to joining the School Council, which I've addressed first because I think the other one is for you and Dr. Anstie to think about, and I don't need to say anything more on that matter.

In conclusion let me say that I never said it ‘did not signify’ whether you joined the Council (though I did say that I believed the School was already tolerably secure of ultimate success.) I think it of very great importance, both for your credit and ours, that there should, as you say, be no appearance of split in the camp, and I should greatly prefer that your name should appear on the Council with Dr. Blackwell’s and those of the medical men who are helping us.

In conclusion, I want to clarify that I never said it "did not matter" whether you joined the Council (even though I did mention that I thought the School was already pretty secure in its eventual success). I believe it's essential, for both your reputation and ours, that there is no appearance of division among us, and I would really prefer that your name appears on the Council alongside Dr. Blackwell’s and the other medical professionals who are assisting us.

Believe me,
Yours truly,
Sophia Jex-Blake.”

So Mrs. Anderson joined the Council, taking no part in the daily life and work of the School, but bringing to the new venture excellent qualities in which S. J.-B. was lacking, among them the valuable gift for bearing in mind who are the people worth conciliating,—the people with whom one simply must not quarrel.

So Mrs. Anderson joined the Council, not getting involved in the everyday life and work of the School, but bringing to the new effort excellent qualities that S. J.-B. was missing, including the important skill of knowing who the people are that should be kept on good terms—those you just can't afford to argue with.

S. J.-B., on the other hand, brought an amount of practical capacity and experience which the reader can estimate for himself. We have seen what she expected—and got—from her solicitor in the matter of the draft of a Parliamentary Bill: it is not to be supposed that she was less successful with printers, nor with plumbers, carpenters and others. She knew exactly how quickly a proof might be expected in an emergency, 426and she knew what the printing ought to cost. If there was anything about the printed page that struck the eye as “odd,” she had her finger on the technical defect in a moment, and saw that it was put right. She loved drawing up specifications for tanks, etc., and making her drawing to scale: carpentry was an unfailing joy,—nuts, bolts, staples, screws were as familiar to her as were bourgeois, pica, leads, and other mysteries of the printer’s craft. “I like working for the Doctor,” an Edinburgh joiner said in later years, “she knows what she wants, and she knows when it is well done”; but of course it was only a competent and conscientious workman who could rise to this view of the case. Fortunately life provides a good many of these: when S. J.-B. met one, she valued him as he deserved.

S. J.-B., on the other hand, had a practical skill set and experience that anyone can appreciate. We've seen what she expected—and received—from her solicitor regarding the draft of a Parliamentary Bill: it's safe to say she was just as effective with printers, plumbers, carpenters, and others. She knew precisely how quickly a proof could be expected in an emergency, and she understood what the printing should cost. If anything on the printed page looked “off,” she could immediately identify the technical issue and ensured it was fixed. She enjoyed creating specifications for tanks and other projects, and making her drawings to scale: carpentry brought her endless joy—nuts, bolts, staples, and screws were as familiar to her as bourgeois, pica, leads, and other complexities of the printing trade. “I like working for the Doctor,” an Edinburgh joiner remarked in later years, “she knows what she wants, and she knows when it’s done well”; but of course, only a skilled and dedicated worker could appreciate this perspective. Fortunately, life offers plenty of those: when S. J.-B. encountered one, she recognized his worth.

Recalling the early days of the School at a meeting of the Governing Body more than twenty years later, Mr. Norton said:

Recalling the early days of the School at a meeting of the Governing Body over twenty years later, Mr. Norton said:

“Miss Jex-Blake had come to him in 1874 after leaving Edinburgh, and he had then expressed the opinion that if funds were raised and a school established of which all the teachers were recognized by the Examining Boards,—the Apothecaries’ Society would be obliged to admit its students to examination. By the middle of October Miss Jex-Blake had succeeded in obtaining £1300 and in renting 30 Handel Street for the purposes of a School of Medicine for Women. It was her great energy which succeeded in so promptly carrying out the work of starting the School.”

“Miss Jex-Blake came to him in 1874 after leaving Edinburgh, and he suggested that if they raised funds and set up a school with teachers recognized by the Examining Boards, the Apothecaries’ Society would have to allow its students to take exams. By mid-October, Miss Jex-Blake had managed to secure £1300 and rent 30 Handel Street for a School of Medicine for Women. It was her tremendous energy that quickly made the establishment of the School possible.”

“Mrs. Anderson said she recollected that in those early days she had been timid and had considered the time had not yet arrived for establishing a separate School of Medicine for Women. To organize a School on the slender sum of money raised by Miss Jex-Blake required great optimism....”

“Mrs. Anderson said she remembered that in those early days she had been shy and thought it wasn't the right time to create a separate School of Medicine for Women. Organizing a school with the small amount of money raised by Miss Jex-Blake needed a lot of optimism....”

So it did. It required much more than optimism. It required a unique capacity for directing and supervising every atom of work done, a unique capacity for getting a full and fair penny’s worth out of every penny, a unique capacity for finding workers who would put their shoulder to the wheel, and do things for love. Chief of these workers always was herself.

So it did. It took a lot more than just optimism. It demanded a special ability to direct and oversee every detail of the work done, a special ability to get the most value out of every penny spent, a special ability to find workers who would put in the effort and do things out of passion. The leader among these workers was always herself.

After the first Prize-giving Miss M‘Laren writes:

After the first prize-giving, Miss M'Laren writes:

“L[ouisa] S[tevenson] and I have just been saying that no one but you could have done all that work on Wednesday. But indeed 427there is almost nothing that you don’t do better than everyone else.”

“Louisa Stevenson and I were just saying that no one but you could have handled all that work on Wednesday. But honestly, there’s almost nothing you don’t do better than everyone else.”

Few even of S. J.-B.’s opponents would have denied that this was true. In everything connected with Board and Business meetings she was an expert. To say one had been trained under her was for many years an invaluable testimonial among those who knew. Her enthusiasm was combined with a clear-sighted grasp of every detail of the situation. Repeatedly one finds Cabinet Ministers and other busy people saying,—“I won’t look at the documents till you come and give me the thread,” “I can’t begin to write the paper till you come and talk me into it,” or words to that effect.

Few of S. J.-B.’s opponents would deny that this was true. She was an expert in everything related to Board and Business meetings. For many years, saying you were trained under her was a valuable endorsement among those in the know. Her enthusiasm was matched by a clear understanding of every detail of the situation. Time and again, you’ll hear Cabinet Ministers and other busy people saying things like, “I won’t look at the documents until you come and explain it to me,” or “I can’t start writing the paper until you come and help me figure it out,” or something along those lines.

Valuable qualities these: but not necessarily the qualities that create the pleasantest possible atmosphere for those who have been in the habit of slipping through life easily. There must have been a good many then as later who would have been glad on occasion to deal with someone a little less business-like.

Valuable qualities, sure, but not always the ones that create the most enjoyable atmosphere for those who are used to gliding through life effortlessly. There must have been quite a few, both then and now, who would have been happy at times to deal with someone a bit less formal.

In any case the thing was launched, Mr. Norton accepted the office of Dean ^[128]; there was a staff of able lecturers; and twenty-three students joined during the first year. Mrs. Anderson and others brought much needed financial help; Lord Shaftesbury distributed the prizes at the end of the first winter session; and Lord Aberdare presided at the first meeting of the Governing Body. So far all went well.

In any case, the thing was launched, Mr. Norton took on the role of Dean ^[128]; there was a team of skilled lecturers; and twenty-three students enrolled in the first year. Mrs. Anderson and others provided essential financial support; Lord Shaftesbury presented the prizes at the end of the first winter session; and Lord Aberdare chaired the first meeting of the Governing Body. Everything was going smoothly so far.

Many were the congratulations from Edinburgh and St. Andrews, mingled naturally with regrets that the little social centre at 15 Buccleuch Place seemed permanently broken up. Professor Lewis Campbell and Principal Tulloch were sure the situation as regarded their University had been greatly simplified by the creation of a good School; and Dr. G. W. Balfour wrote:

Many congratulated each other from Edinburgh and St. Andrews, mixed with sadness that the small social hub at 15 Buccleuch Place seemed to be permanently closed. Professor Lewis Campbell and Principal Tulloch believed that the situation concerning their University had been greatly improved by the establishment of a solid School; and Dr. G. W. Balfour wrote:

“I only regret that you will be so far beyond my reach that it will be impossible for me to coöperate actively in your future education,—though I shall always be very glad to do anything I can for you.”

“I only regret that you will be so far out of my reach that it will be impossible for me to actively help with your future education,—though I will always be very happy to do whatever I can for you.”

428This was one of the rare blank cheques on futurity that are destined to be redeemed to the last farthing.

428This was one of the rare blank checks on the future that are meant to be cashed to the last cent.

Professor Masson, too, was keen as ever.

Professor Masson was just as eager as ever.

“10 Regent Terrace, Edinr.

Oct. 23, 1874.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

I had purposed when in London to give myself the pleasure of a visit to the new premises, and to hear from yourself all about the school and its prospects; but I was up on the business of some researches, and had to spend my days, almost to the last, at the British Museum or Record Office. One day I had a glimpse of you in a cab passing the British Museum gate, but too fast and too far off to be stopped. Mrs. Masson who is to be in London for a few days more will certainly make her way to Henrietta Street.

I had planned to treat myself to a visit to the new location in London and to hear directly from you about the school and its future; however, I was occupied with some research and had to spend nearly all my time at the British Museum or the Record Office. One day, I caught a glimpse of you in a cab passing by the British Museum gate, but you were going too fast and too far away to be stopped. Mrs. Masson, who will be in London for a few more days, will definitely head to Henrietta Street.

I was very glad indeed to hear of so much success in organizing the new School, and glad also to hear several medical men I met in London speak of it not only approvingly on their own account, but also with a kind of conviction that it would settle matters. Are there not several rocks ahead however? And what about the Apothecaries and their disposition? May they not be acted upon by those opponents in the profession whose opposition is now likely to take the form of permitting women to qualify themselves under a different title to that given to men. The conservatives of the University of London Senate will probably promote this current of opinion.

I was really happy to hear about the success in organizing the new School, and I was also pleased to hear several doctors I met in London speak about it not only positively for their own reasons but also with a belief that it would resolve issues. But aren't there some challenges ahead? What about the Apothecaries and their attitude? Could they be influenced by those in the profession who might oppose this effort by allowing women to qualify under a different title than men? The conservatives in the University of London Senate will likely support this viewpoint.

With best regards to all Edinburgh friends with you,

With warm regards to all my friends in Edinburgh who are with you,

Believe me,
Yours very truly,
David Masson.”

Dr. Masson had put his finger precisely on the difficulty. It was still necessary to secure two indispensable conditions of success,—1. Qualifying Hospital Instruction, and 2. Recognition by some Examining Board. It is clear that even Mr. Norton had no idea when he first espoused the cause how great this double difficulty would prove. Application was made to every one of the nineteen Examining Boards, and to every one application was made in vain. The Hospitals proved equally obdurate. “Why should this University be the corpus vile?” Dr. Lyon Playfair had asked in Parliament the year before: and this very human and comprehensible cry was doubtless echoed by every Examining Body in the land.

Dr. Masson had pinpointed the problem. It was still necessary to secure two key conditions for success: 1. Qualified Hospital Instruction, and 2. Recognition by some Examining Board. It's clear that even Mr. Norton had no idea when he first took up the cause how challenging this double obstacle would be. Applications were submitted to each of the nineteen Examining Boards, and every application was rejected. The Hospitals were just as unyielding. “Why should this University be the disposable body?” Dr. Lyon Playfair had asked in Parliament the year before, and this very human and understandable plea was likely echoed by every Examining Body in the country.

429S. J.-B. was determined not to let the public forget the question, and in March 1875 she had an article in the Fortnightly, which Mr. Morley (now Lord Morley) had accepted very cordially.

429S. J.-B. was set on making sure the public didn't forget the issue, and in March 1875, she published an article in the Fortnightly, which Mr. Morley (now Lord Morley) had welcomed warmly.

“It will give me the most entire satisfaction,” he wrote, “to join the Governing Body of the New School of Medicine for Women, and I shall not grudge whatever time may be necessary for taking part in its proceedings. I thank you for your invitation.”

“It will give me great satisfaction,” he wrote, “to join the Governing Body of the New School of Medicine for Women, and I won’t hesitate to dedicate whatever time is needed to participate in its proceedings. Thank you for your invitation.”

Once more the hopes of the women centred in Parliament. On March 3rd, 1875, Mr. Cowper Temple again brought forward his Enabling Bill, and a long debate ensued, but the Bill was lost by 196 votes to 153. On March 25th he returned to the charge with a Bill to permit the registration of the degrees of the Universities of France, Berlin, Leipzig, Berne and Zurich, where such degrees were held by women. This was simply an extension of a concession in the Medical Act of 1858, by which any persons in practice in England with foreign degrees at that date were allowed to register. It was found impossible, however, to obtain the support of Government to this measure, and no day could be secured for a second reading, so the matter was again deferred.

Once again, the hopes of the women were focused on Parliament. On March 3, 1875, Mr. Cowper Temple introduced his Enabling Bill once more, sparking a long debate, but the Bill was defeated by 196 votes to 153. On March 25, he tried again with a Bill to allow the registration of degrees from the Universities of France, Berlin, Leipzig, Berne, and Zurich, which were held by women. This was simply an extension of a concession in the Medical Act of 1858, allowing anyone practicing in England with foreign degrees at that date to register. However, it proved impossible to gain the support of the Government for this measure, and no date could be arranged for a second reading, so the issue was postponed again.

It was not to be expected that the students would go on indefinitely taking theoretical classes that led to nothing, and the future was beginning to look dark when at last a step forward was made.

It wasn't realistic to expect that the students would keep taking theoretical classes that led nowhere, and the future was starting to look bleak when, at last, a progress was made.

Mr. Stansfeld, Mr. Cowper Temple, and Mr. Russell Gurney were all the kind of friends with whom one would go tiger-hunting, and no one of the three showed any intention of backing out. On the 16th of June, in answer to a question of Mr. Stansfeld’s, Lord Sandon admitted in the name of the Government that the subject of the medical education of women, only very lately submitted to Government, demanded their consideration; and he undertook that it should be carefully considered by the Government during the recess, so that they should be enabled to express definite views with regard to legislation upon it in the next session.

Mr. Stansfeld, Mr. Cowper Temple, and Mr. Russell Gurney were the kind of friends you'd go tiger-hunting with, and none of them showed any signs of backing down. On June 16th, in response to a question from Mr. Stansfeld, Lord Sandon acknowledged on behalf of the Government that the issue of women's medical education, which had only recently been brought to their attention, needed their consideration. He promised that it would be carefully reviewed by the Government during the recess so they could share clear views on potential legislation in the next session.

In the meantime Mr. Simon, in the name of the President of the Privy Council, had addressed a letter to the President 430of the General Medical Council requesting the observations of that Council on Mr. Cowper Temple’s Bill, and indeed on the whole subject of the admission of women to the medical profession.

In the meantime, Mr. Simon, on behalf of the President of the Privy Council, had sent a letter to the President of the General Medical Council asking for their thoughts on Mr. Cowper Temple’s Bill and, more broadly, on the entire issue of allowing women into the medical profession.

The General Medical Council took up the question at last in all seriousness, and the discussion lasted three days, during which many remarkable things were said on both sides. Finally a report was adopted and presented to the Privy Council to the effect that,

The General Medical Council finally addressed the issue seriously, and the discussion went on for three days, during which many noteworthy points were made on both sides. In the end, a report was approved and submitted to the Privy Council stating that,

“The Medical Council are of opinion that the study and practice of Medicine and Surgery, instead of affording a field of exertion well fitted for women, do on the contrary, present special difficulties which cannot be safely disregarded; but the Council are not prepared to say that women ought to be excluded from the profession.”

“The Medical Council believes that the study and practice of Medicine and Surgery, rather than providing a suitable opportunity for women, actually present specific challenges that can’t be overlooked; however, the Council is not ready to claim that women should be excluded from the profession.”

In the autumn of 1875 a fresh hope was raised, owing to a really brilliant suggestion of Mr. Simon’s. He bethought himself that those doctors who wished the women to have a different qualification from that of men might be willing to allow them to enter for the Licence in Midwifery of the College of Surgeons. Now this Midwifery Licence, strangely enough, was a regular qualification, involving the same medical curriculum as the M.R.C.S., and entitling those who held it to put their names on the Medical Register, and to practise legally with full rights as doctors. There was no reason why those women who had a complete set of certificates from Edinburgh should not go in for it at once, and forthwith become qualified general practitioners. It was not a very dignified way of entering the profession, but it did seem to be a way.

In the fall of 1875, a new hope emerged thanks to a brilliant suggestion from Mr. Simon. He realized that doctors who wanted women to have different qualifications from men might be open to letting them apply for the Licence in Midwifery from the College of Surgeons. Interestingly, this Midwifery Licence was a legitimate qualification that required the same medical curriculum as the M.R.C.S. and allowed those who held it to register as medical practitioners and legally practice as doctors with full rights. There was no reason why women with a complete set of certificates from Edinburgh shouldn't apply for it right away and immediately become qualified general practitioners. It may not have been the most dignified way to enter the profession, but it did seem like a viable option.

“Thursday, Nov. 11th. Today saw Simon again. He thinks they would admit us for Midwifery Licence with present certificates,—not for M.R.C.S.—though expressly same [certificates] required in Regulations. Better to get on the Register anyhow it seems to me?

“Thursday, Nov. 11th. Today I saw Simon again. He thinks they would accept us for the Midwifery License with our current certificates—not for M.R.C.S.—even though the same [certificates] are required in the Regulations. Better to get on the Register anyway, it seems to me?

Only, could it choke off anything better? Hardly. If told that was open and refused, half our case gone. Besides any existing Exam. better than a special one.

Only, could it block anything better? Hardly. If we were told that it was open and it refused, half of our case would be gone. Besides, any existing exam is better than a special one.

Shall ask K[ing] Ch[ambers] tomorrow.

Will ask K[ing] Ch[ambers] tomorrow.

Nov. 12th. Homme propose! K[ing] Ch[ambers] out of town....

Nov. 12th. Man proposes! K[ing] Ch[ambers] out of town....

431To see Sir J. Paget tomorrow.

Meeting Sir J. Paget tomorrow.

Bertie ^[129] been here today. Quite agrees, get anything you can,—ask for more by and bye.

Bertie ^[129] has been here today. He totally agrees, get whatever you can—ask for more later.

In fact one’s position would be far stronger after one’s certificates had been accepted for the one,—when identical are required for the other. Ah, well! Qui vivra verra—many things!...

In fact, your position would be much stronger once your certificates had been accepted for one, since the same ones are required for the other. Ah, well! We'll see what happens—many things!...

Saturday, Nov. 13th. Sir J. Paget this morning,—with Dr. A. He very kind and courteous, infinitely more of a gentleman than most.

Saturday, Nov. 13th. Sir J. Paget this morning,—with Dr. A. He was very kind and polite, way more of a gentleman than most.

He decidedly of opinion that we could not get admitted to the M.R.C.S., but probably might to the L.M. He at least evidently thought we ought, and thought most of the Council would think so too. They meet apparently on Dec. 14th, and he advises us to send in application before that, and then, if granted, we can be examined by end of December.

He was definitely of the opinion that we wouldn’t be admitted to the M.R.C.S., but we might get into the L.M. He clearly believed we should apply and thought that most of the Council would agree. They apparently meet on December 14th, and he recommends that we send in our application before then, so that if it's approved, we can be examined by the end of December.

Fancy an Exam. in Midwifery only putting one on the Register!...

Fancy an Exam. in Midwifery only getting someone on the Register!...

Tuesday, 16th. Saw Sir James Paget again at his request. He thinks we had better not apply before the meeting, but give application to Critchett to present, if desirable at the time....

Tuesday, 16th. Met with Sir James Paget again at his request. He believes it’s better not to apply before the meeting, but to ask Critchett to present, if that seems right at the time....

Wednesday 17th. Saw Critchett. Most friendly and wholehearted—willing to raise the question of M.R.C.S. if we liked, but I advised one step first, then leverage for next....

Wednesday 17th. Met with Critchett. Very friendly and genuine—open to discussing the M.R.C.S. if we wanted, but I suggested we take one step first to then have leverage for the next.

Chambers not quite satisfied about L.M. but thinks it on the whole best for the cause (‘perhaps not for yourselves,’) to take it if we can.”

Chambers isn't completely happy with L.M. but believes it's probably best for the cause (“maybe not for you personally”) to accept it if we can.

So those three brave women, Mrs. Thorne, Miss Pechey and S. J.-B. proceeded to rub up their Midwifery, and meanwhile the authorities of the College took the opinion of counsel as to their legal power to grant or refuse the application. If no one else prospered by that long and wearing struggle, certainly the lawyers did! On this occasion they earned their salt by declaring “that the College had power to admit women under its supplemental charter, and could be compelled by legal process so to examine and grant certificates, ... that the Medical Act clearly considered a holder of such certificates a licentiate in midwifery, and as such entitled to register.”

So those three brave women, Mrs. Thorne, Miss Pechey, and S. J.-B. started brushing up on their midwifery skills, while the college authorities sought legal advice about their power to approve or deny the application. If no one else benefited from that long and exhausting struggle, at least the lawyers did! This time, they earned their pay by stating that "the college had the power to admit women under its supplemental charter and could be compelled by legal action to examine and issue certificates,... that the Medical Act clearly recognized a holder of such certificates as a licensed midwife and therefore entitled to register."

“Friday, 21st. Jan. My 36th birthday. Just half my life since I began independently. So curious to look back on cogitations of 18th birthday! But even then I had a presentiment of ‘sunshine and storm.’

“Friday, January 21st. My 36th birthday. I’ve only lived half my life since I became independent. It’s interesting to reflect on my thoughts from my 18th birthday! But even back then, I had a feeling of 'sunshine and storm.'”

432It seems as if this year was really to gain (tho’ in rather mesquin shape) what I have been fighting for in England for 7 years—Registration.

432It feels like this year is finally about achieving what I've been struggling for in England for 7 years—Registration, even if it's in a pretty disappointing form.

College of Surgeons on 7th Jan. decided on advice of their counsel, Mr. Beaver, that they could not exclude women from the licence in Midwifery,—so we three seniors have sent in our certificates, etc.—given to Critchett on application on Dec. 4th,—presented by him on Jan. 7th.”

College of Surgeons on January 7th decided, based on the advice of their lawyer, Mr. Beaver, that they couldn’t exclude women from the Midwifery license—so the three of us seniors have submitted our certificates, etc.—that were given to Critchett when asked on December 4th—and he submitted them on January 7th.

On March 17th, the women were told that their certificates had been accepted, but, on the public announcement of this fact, the whole board of examiners resigned. In relating the circumstances a year later, Mr. Stansfeld wrote that “since then there had been no examiners and no examination.”

On March 17th, the women were informed that their certificates had been accepted, but following the public announcement, the entire board of examiners resigned. A year later, Mr. Stansfeld noted that “since then there had been no examiners and no examination.”

“Perhaps after all it is as well,” wrote Miss Pechey from Birmingham, where she now held a post at the Women’s Hospital under Mr. Lawson Tait,—“perhaps after all it is as well, as it gives us a stronger case for Parliament, and that licence would have been a sorry thing to practise upon....”

“Maybe in the end it's for the best,” wrote Miss Pechey from Birmingham, where she now worked at the Women’s Hospital under Mr. Lawson Tait, “maybe in the end it's for the best, as it gives us a stronger case for Parliament, and that license would have been a regrettable thing to enforce....”

After suggesting a great scheme of a new “National University,” she concludes,—

After proposing the idea for a new "National University," she wraps up—

“I suppose you can’t think of any way in which I could earn some money? I am beginning to wonder what I shall do when I leave here: I can’t begin to practise till I have had more midwifery.

“I guess you can’t think of any way I could make some money? I’m starting to wonder what I’ll do when I leave here: I can’t start practicing until I’ve had more experience with midwifery.”

“I have only one other resource to suggest now this College of Surgeons has failed, viz., that I should go over to Ireland, take that Licence in Midwifery and then try to force the Registrar to register it,—if he would not do so at once, by legal measures. Qu’en pensez-vous?

“I have one more option to suggest now that this College of Surgeons has let me down, which is that I should go to Ireland, get that License in Midwifery, and then try to pressure the Registrar to register it—if he wouldn’t do it right away, through legal action. What do you think?

Yours aff.

E. P.”

This is simply quoted to show the state—not indeed of despair, but of desperation, which these gallant women had reached. One can sympathize with this cri du coeur from S. J.-B.’s diary:

This is quoted to illustrate the condition—not quite despair, but a sense of desperation—that these brave women had come to. One can empathize with this cry from the heart from S. J.-B.’s diary:

“Here comes Miss Irby’s note this morning,—wanting a hospital for the wounded at Serajevo.... Oh, dear, how I should love to go! It would probably be just the making of me as a surgeon,—and I have such a sort of wild feeling of wanting to ‘break out,’—of having been sair hadden doun by many bubbly jocks,—by the 433constant fighting, by Mother’s frequent illnesses, etc., etc. I feel as if it would be an intense relief to break right away into half savage parts and do hard rough work—and breathe!

“Here comes Miss Irby’s note this morning, asking for a hospital for the wounded in Sarajevo.... Oh, how I would love to go! It would probably be just what I need to become a surgeon,—and I have such a wild urge to ‘break free,’—having felt really held back by so many petty annoyances,—by the constant fighting, by Mother’s frequent illnesses, and so on. I feel like it would be an incredible relief to escape to more rugged places and do tough, real work—and breathe!

And then how nice it would be with Miss Irby.... I want to get away from mental strain and excitement,—to bodily hard work.

And then how lovely it would be with Miss Irby… I want to escape from mental stress and excitement—to some hard physical work.

And what magnificent practice it would be!”

And what an amazing practice that would be!”

“U. D. P. against Serbian idea. Thinks my Mother would die in my absence and I never forgive myself.

“U. D. P. against the Serbian idea. Thinks my mom would die while I'm away, and I could never forgive myself.”

Also I should hurt ‘the cause’ by doctoring men.

Also, I should hurt 'the cause' by tampering with men.

I doubt both propositions, but can’t disprove either.

I’m skeptical of both claims, but I can’t prove either one wrong.

My brain is in a sort of dull ‘waiting’ condition,—‘quo Deus vocat.’ Well, isn’t that best? Yes, if thoroughly honest.

My mind feels kind of dull and just waiting—"where God calls." Well, isn’t that the best? Yes, if we’re being completely honest.

I suppose the constant worry and constant thwarting have made me almost wild to break away for a bit. I feel somehow as if my mind were all strained, and this better than anything would give it back its tone.”

I guess the constant stress and persistent obstacles have made me nearly desperate to escape for a little while. I feel like my mind is totally worn out, and this more than anything would help me regain my balance.

Miss Irby’s idea came to nothing for lack of funds, but in any case, of course, S. J.-B. could not have gone. It was she who held in her hands all the parliamentary threads, and she was looking anxiously for some practical outcome from Lord Sandon’s promise of the year before. On January 14th, however, Mr. Cowper Temple wrote:

Miss Irby’s idea went nowhere due to a lack of funds, but anyway, S. J.-B. wouldn’t have been able to go. She was the one who had all the connections in Parliament, and she was nervously hoping for a practical result from Lord Sandon’s promise from the previous year. However, on January 14th, Mr. Cowper Temple wrote:

“Dear Miss Blake,

“Hi Miss Blake,

The Government are not prepared to tell me whether they will introduce any Bill next session on the subject of the medical registration of women, and therefore it will be necessary for me to bring in my Bill again at the commencement of the session....”

The Government isn't willing to tell me if they'll introduce any Bill next session regarding the medical registration of women, so I'll need to introduce my Bill again at the start of the session...

S. J.-B. thought it worth while, however, to remind the Government tactfully of their promise, and she had learned by bitter experience to keep every possible iron in the fire. So a deputation from the London School of Medicine for Women, headed by Lord Aberdare, and including herself and Mrs. Anderson, waited on the Duke of Richmond and Gordon, Lord President of the Privy Council. The mission was ably voiced by Lord Aberdare, Mr. Stansfeld, and Mr. Forsyth, M.P., Q.C., whose name now appeared on the back of Mr. Cowper Temple’s Bill; but, although courteously received, the deputation elicited no farther encouragement.

S. J.-B. thought it was important, however, to politely remind the Government of their promise, and she had learned from tough experiences to always have multiple options available. So a delegation from the London School of Medicine for Women, led by Lord Aberdare and including herself and Mrs. Anderson, met with the Duke of Richmond and Gordon, Lord President of the Privy Council. The mission was effectively communicated by Lord Aberdare, Mr. Stansfeld, and Mr. Forsyth, M.P., Q.C., whose name was now on the back of Mr. Cowper Temple’s Bill; but, despite being received courteously, the delegation received no further encouragement.

In these circumstances, Mr. Cowper Temple again introduced his “Foreign Degrees” Bill, but fortune did not favour 434him in the matter of the ballot for dates, and, in the meantime, S. J.-B. writes in her diary:

In this situation, Mr. Cowper Temple once more presented his “Foreign Degrees” Bill, but luck wasn't on his side regarding the ballot for dates, and, in the meantime, S. J.-B. writes in her diary:

“Saturday, May 13th. Saw Russell Gurney [who was now Recorder of London]. Found Government had intimated to him that he should bring in Bill enabling all nineteen bodies,—to be shown to General Medical Council on 24th.

“Saturday, May 13th. I met with Russell Gurney [who was now Recorder of London]. I learned that the Government had informed him that he should present a Bill enabling all nineteen bodies—to be presented to the General Medical Council on the 24th.”

If this passes!

If this goes through!

Might graduate at Edinburgh after all.”

On the 5th of July Mr. Cowper Temple’s Bill came on for second reading, but was withdrawn after debate upon a statement from Lord Sandon that the Government were prepared to support the Recorder’s Bill. Even then anxiety was by no means at an end, for the Government were not prepared to make the Bill their own and find a day for it, and any persistent opposition would have been almost necessarily fatal to its passing at so late a time. One can picture the surprise with which S. J.-B. received the following letter:

On July 5th, Mr. Cowper Temple’s Bill was scheduled for a second reading but was pulled back after a discussion about Lord Sandon’s announcement that the Government was ready to back the Recorder’s Bill. Even then, concerns didn’t subside because the Government wasn’t willing to adopt the Bill as their own and set a date for it, and any ongoing opposition would likely have doomed its chances of passing at such a late stage. One can imagine the surprise with which S. J.-B. received the following letter:

“8 Palace Gardens, W.

21 July, [1876].

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake

I saw Lord Shaftesbury yesterday and he intends to give notice on Monday to move the second reading on Tuesday.

I saw Lord Shaftesbury yesterday, and he plans to give notice on Monday to schedule the second reading for Tuesday.

The third reading will probably follow in a day or two.

The third reading will likely happen in a day or two.

All that we shall then have to wait for will be the Royal Assent.

All we have to wait for now is the Royal Assent.

Always sincerely yours,

Russell Gurney.”

On August 12th the Bill became law. Henceforth no University nor Examining Board could be in any doubt at all as to its own powers. Those mysterious depths were at least no longer “an uncharted sea.”

On August 12th, the Bill became law. From that point on, no University or Examining Board could be uncertain about its own powers. Those confusing depths were no longer “an uncharted sea.”

On August 7th Miss Pechey writes:

On August 7th, Miss Pechey writes:

“Has our Bill received the Royal Assent? If so, I suppose Mrs. Thorne and I might apply any time to Edinburgh, though I don’t suppose she would consent to say what I intend to. I mean simply to ask them whether now they have the power, they intend honourably to fulfil the contract they made with me in 1869. It does not matter to me when I send in the question, as we can’t be examined, I believe, till next April. Isn’t it so? But of course we had better not apply till the Arts Professors are back.

“Has our Bill received Royal Assent? If it has, I guess Mrs. Thorne and I could apply any time to Edinburgh, though I doubt she would agree to say what I plan to. I simply want to ask them if, now that they have the power, they intend to honor the contract they made with me in 1869. It doesn’t matter when I send in the question, since I believe we can’t be examined until next April. Isn’t that right? But of course, it’s better if we wait until the Arts Professors are back.”

Ever yours affect.

E. P.”

435Edinburgh, however, did not prove encouraging even to its own matriculated students, so Miss Pechey—accompanied by Miss Shove—went to Ireland in September to see what could be effected there. She was very cordially received, though many with whom she had to deal were quite unaware of the existence of the all-important Baby Act; and one can imagine the joy with which, after much labour, she wrote to report that both the Queen’s University and the King’s and Queen’s College of Physicians had consented to examine women, subject only to their complying with the ordinary regulations. “Miss Pechey has done wonders,” wrote Mrs. Thorne.

435Edinburgh, however, did not seem encouraging even to its own enrolled students, so Miss Pechey—along with Miss Shove—went to Ireland in September to see what could be accomplished there. She was welcomed warmly, although many of the people she interacted with were completely unaware of the crucial Baby Act; and one can imagine the excitement with which, after a lot of effort, she wrote to report that both Queen’s University and King’s and Queen’s College of Physicians had agreed to examine women, as long as they followed the usual regulations. “Miss Pechey has achieved amazing things,” wrote Mrs. Thorne.

The University regulations required attendance at four courses of lectures in one of the Queen’s Colleges (at Cork, Belfast and Galway), and four professors at Galway agreed to deliver these; but, owing mainly—as happened so often!—to the opposition of one influential man, the Council of the College interposed and vetoed the arrangement.

The university regulations required students to attend four lecture courses at one of the Queen’s Colleges (in Cork, Belfast, and Galway), and four professors at Galway agreed to teach these courses; however, mainly due to the resistance of one influential person, the College Council intervened and blocked the plan.

Fortunately the Irish College made no difficulties, and to that body belongs the credit of being the first to grant to women—and above all, to these women—the long-deferred privilege of Registration. “I cannot realize,” wrote Mrs. Thorne to S. J.-B. a few weeks later, “that an examining body is absolutely open to us.” “You have been the mainspring of the seven years’ struggle, and to you we are all deeply indebted for the result.”

Fortunately, the Irish College didn't put up any obstacles, and they deserve credit for being the first to grant women—and especially these women—the long-awaited right to register. “I can't believe,” Mrs. Thorne wrote to S. J.-B. a few weeks later, “that an examining body is completely open to us.” “You have been the driving force behind the seven-year struggle, and we are all truly grateful to you for this outcome.”

Before passing on, we must record one pleasant distraction which that summer had afforded in the appearance of Mr. Charles Reade on the scene, deeply interested in “the fight,” and very anxious to obtain materials for his Woman Hater. There are numerous letters from him to S. J.-B., asking information about this happening and that: and he spent many mornings at her house, studying the archives. The novel achieved no small success by running its course in Blackwood’s Magazine, within the very gates, so to speak, of the enemy’s citadel.

Before we move on, we should mention a nice distraction from that summer: the arrival of Mr. Charles Reade, who was really interested in “the fight” and eager to gather material for his Woman Hater. He wrote numerous letters to S. J.-B. asking for details about this event and that one, and he spent many mornings at her house reviewing the archives. The novel enjoyed quite a bit of success by being published in Blackwood’s Magazine, right in the heart of the enemy's territory.

436

CHAPTER XX
AT LAST

While all this business was pending, Miss M‘Laren, rendered incredulous by her long family experience of parliamentary life, that a Bill introduced so late could really pass—had written glowing descriptions of the advantages offered by Berne, and Miss Pechey had almost resolved to go there for the M.D. As the regulations of the Irish College were exacting in the matter of hospital work, she resolved to carry out this intention in any case as a preliminary measure.

While all this was happening, Miss M'Laren, who had become skeptical from her long family history in politics, thought it was impossible for a Bill introduced so late to actually succeed. She wrote enthusiastic accounts of the benefits of Berne, and Miss Pechey was nearly convinced to go there for her M.D. Since the regulations of the Irish College were strict about hospital work, she decided to stick to her plan as a first step, no matter what.

“I shall be very glad,” she writes, “of another good winter’s hospital. I hope you will join me in this, so that we may keep together. I think I should send in the Berne degree here [in Ireland] when I had got it.”

“I’ll be really happy,” she writes, “to have another good winter’s hospital. I hope you’ll join me in this, so we can stay together. I think I should send in the Berne degree here [in Ireland] once I get it.”

The two friends were most desirous that Mrs. Thorne should join them on this expedition for old sake’s sake; but family claims made this impossible.

The two friends really wanted Mrs. Thorne to join them on this trip for old times' sake; but family obligations made this impossible.

Well, it was something to break away, even thus far, and be mere students again. For the moment S. J.-B. and Miss Pechey may almost be said to have been resting on their oars. Nothing more arduous was required of them than preparation for professional examination!

Well, it was nice to take a break, even just for this, and be regular students again. For now, S. J.-B. and Miss Pechey could almost be said to be taking it easy. All they had to do was prepare for their professional exams!

It was on Wednesday, November 1st, that, accompanied by Miss Clark (now Dr. Annie Clark), they entered Switzerland, a white world, as it chanced, for snow had already fallen. The diary begins again almost from the moment of arrival:

It was on Wednesday, November 1st, that, along with Miss Clark (now Dr. Annie Clark), they entered Switzerland, a snowy landscape, since snow had already fallen. The diary starts again almost right after they arrived:

“Excellent déjeuner [at Bernerhof] 12.30. Then I lay down. E. P. and A. C. went out exploring. Wonderful energy of youth!”

“Great lunch [at Bernerhof] 12:30. Then I took a nap. E. P. and A. C. went out exploring. Such amazing energy of youth!”

437They all proceeded at once to interview professors (Professor Masson had sent a delightful introduction), and forthwith began to attend lectures and cliniques, and to complete the theses which had been begun in England. S. J.-B. took as her subject Puerperal Fever, she having unhappily experienced an outbreak of that disease at Boston. The thesis was clear and exhaustive at the time, but of little permanent value, as the infective nature of the fever was not yet recognized, and treatment everywhere was mainly on a wrong scent.

437They all immediately started interviewing professors (Professor Masson had provided a wonderful introduction), and quickly began attending lectures and clinics, as well as completing the theses they had started in England. S. J.-B. chose Puerperal Fever as her subject, having unfortunately experienced an outbreak of that disease in Boston. The thesis was thorough and detailed at the time, but of little lasting value, as the infectious nature of the fever was not yet acknowledged, and treatment everywhere was mainly misguided.

She suffered terribly from neuralgia, the result of past and present strain, and work proceeded with difficulty. On December 20th Miss Pechey and Miss Clark went home for Christmas.

She was in a lot of pain from neuralgia, caused by both past and current stress, and it was hard for her to get work done. On December 20th, Miss Pechey and Miss Clark left for home for Christmas.

The diary has been brief and painful reading, but the writer revives just in time:

The diary has been short and painful to read, but the writer comes back to life just in time:

“Tuesday [Dec.] 26th. Nearly seven hours’ work. Splendidly well. Accepted for examination Jan. 10th.

“Tuesday [Dec.] 26th. Almost seven hours of work. It went really well. Accepted for review on Jan. 10th.”

Thursday 28th. Slept splendidly. For first time for weeks without anodyne.

Thursday 28th. Slept wonderfully. For the first time in weeks without any painkillers.

Wednesday. N. Schultz called. Very nice. To walk with me before exam. next Wednesday. Rather made me nervous with her pity.

Wednesday. N. Schultz called. Very nice. To walk with me before the exam next Wednesday. Made me rather nervous with her pity.

Friday.... Letter from U. D. P., begging me not to hurry—‘if I fail it can’t be kept secret.’ Are they all in league to shake my nerves?

Friday.... Letter from U. D. P., asking me not to rush—‘if I fail, it can’t be kept secret.’ Are they all in on this to stress me out?

Saturday [Jan.] 6th. E. P. still in London. Glorious day.

Saturday [Jan.] 6th. E. P. is still in London. Beautiful day.

Tuesday 9th. From 5 a.m. rather nervous—got better in day—and did 9 hours’ work. Good head all through—thank God!

Tuesday 9th. Woke up feeling pretty nervous at 5 a.m. but felt better as the day went on—and managed to get in 9 hours of work. Had a clear head throughout—thank God!

10 p.m. How very happy or very wretched I shall be this time tomorrow! I really feel as if I ought to be able to pass as far as knowledge goes,—tho’ not brilliantly,—but I am in despair about Langhans, and in less degree about others.—Still they will surely manage not to pluck me for mere want of German! Yesterday I felt almost as if I should fail, tonight I hope I shan’t, but with trembling....

10 p.m. How happy or miserable I’ll be this time tomorrow! I honestly feel like I should be able to do okay in terms of knowledge—not exceptionally, but okay—yet I’m really worried about Langhans and, to a lesser extent, the others. Still, they probably won’t fail me just because of my German skills! Yesterday I felt like I might not succeed; tonight I hope I will, but I’m still nervous...

Eh, dear, if I succeed, how I shall (half) laugh at past funk!—if I fail, I feel as if I need never laugh again. (And yet, played patience half an hour just now rather than be beat—‘ill to beat’ not a bad motto!) And, if I’m not beat,—fancy this being my last night without M.D.!

Eh, dear, if I succeed, I'll be able to laugh at all the stress I felt before! If I fail, I feel like I might never laugh again. (And yet, I just played patience for half an hour rather than be defeated—'ill to beat' isn’t a bad motto!) And if I’m not defeated—imagine this being my last night without M.D.!

Wed. 10th. Nothing from E. P. or A. C. Wonder if latter has come.

Wed. 10th. No news from E. P. or A. C. I wonder if the latter has arrived.

438Very curious my sort of duplex feeling, (a) If I could only feel sure of passing, I should pass,—i.e. not being nervous. (b) If I felt sure—I should be sure to fail, (superstition!) A sort of unworthy Setebos feeling, I think.

438I'm experiencing a really strange mix of emotions. (a) If I could just be confident about getting through this, I would—meaning I wouldn't be anxious. (b) If I felt confident—I'm sure I would end up failing, (superstition!) It's kind of an undeserving Setebos feeling, I think.

Undertake for me!

Do it for me!

And He has! Thank God! Every exam. fairly creditable, which is worth twice a scratch.

And He has! Thank God! Every exam. pretty good, which is worth twice a scratch.

Now to see how much better an M.D. sleeps than other people!”

Now let's see how much better a doctor sleeps than everyone else!

“13th Jan.

Brighton.

My Darling,

My Love

Words cannot express my thankfulness at your success, and release from anxiety. I did not fear because I did not see why they should be unjust, but I am more than glad that it is settled.

Words can’t express how grateful I am for your success and relief from anxiety. I didn’t worry because I didn’t see any reason for them to be unfair, but I’m really happy that it’s all resolved.

I ought to have scolded you some days ago for more grapes. I am very forgetful, and I really sleep so well that I do not require them.

I should have told you a few days ago to get more grapes. I'm really forgetful, and I sleep so well that I don’t even need them.

Well, dear, I am quite unsettled with the good news. Hoping to meet so soon, and with great congratulations from Tom, and Hetty, and Carry, and more love than a letter will take, ever your loving Mother,

Well, dear, I’m feeling a bit uneasy about the good news. I’m looking forward to meeting soon, and you have big congratulations from Tom, Hetty, and Carry, along with more love than a letter can carry, always your loving Mother,

Maria Emily Jex-Blake.

I heartily echo your ‘Thank God.’ I am so thankful I cannot settle.”

I completely agree with your 'Thank God.' I’m so grateful that I can’t sit still.

A few weeks later Miss Pechey and Miss Clark also passed the examination.

A few weeks later, Miss Pechey and Miss Clark also passed the exam.

“You will like to hear,” writes Miss Pechey, “that Professor Hidber told Miss Clark that the Professors were much pleased with your exam. and said it was evident that you had studied well. It is more satisfactory, I think, to hear it indirectly like that than if they had told you so.

“You'll be happy to know,” Miss Pechey writes, “that Professor Hidber mentioned to Miss Clark that the Professors were really pleased with your exam and said it was clear that you had studied hard. I think it’s more satisfying to hear it this way than if they had told you directly.”

Miss Clark says she is very glad you answered better than I did. So am I: I only wish I had answered better for the credit of my countrywomen.”

Miss Clark says she's really glad you answered better than I did. So am I; I just wish I had answered better for the reputation of my fellow women.

It still remained to get on the English Register through the newly opened portal of the Irish College. S. J.-B. and Miss Pechey spent some time in London, reading and attending the Brompton Hospital, where Dr. Symes Thompson proved very helpful.

It was still necessary to get onto the English Register through the newly opened portal of the Irish College. S. J.-B. and Miss Pechey spent some time in London, studying and visiting the Brompton Hospital, where Dr. Symes Thompson was very helpful.

439There is a sheaf of blank pages in the diary, and then:

439There’s a bunch of blank pages in the diary, and then:

“Sunday, May 6th. Rugby.

‘One fight more,—the worst and the last!’ Oh, dear, if I pass this Exam. I shall deserve all I may get if I ever go in for another!

‘One more fight—the hardest and the final!’ Oh, man, if I get through this exam, I’ll deserve everything that comes my way if I ever take another one!

Since Nov. 1st.,—indeed one might say since September 1st,—hardly a day of rest and respite, but brain worked at highest pressure—often when almost a blank.

Since November 1st—actually, one could say since September 1st—there has hardly been a day of rest or relaxation; instead, my mind has been working at full capacity, often even when I felt completely blank.

Now it is over and ‘waiting for the verdict.’

Now it’s over and “waiting for the verdict.”

Off tonight for Dublin with E. P. Dr. A[tkins] also to join. ‘Omne ignotum pro magnifico.’ The various tests loom vague and large. Diagnosis at bedside,—horrible,—though enormously helped by Brompton experience. Recognition of drugs and things under microscope. 4 written exams. 2 hrs. oral, etc., etc.

Heading to Dublin tonight with E.P. Dr. A[tkins] is also coming along. "Everything unknown is magnificent." The different tests seem unclear and overwhelming. Diagnosis at the bedside is terrible, though greatly improved by my experience at Brompton. Identifying drugs and substances under the microscope. 4 written exams. 2 hours of oral exams, etc., etc.

I feel as if I really had fairly mastered my subjects and must know more than the average medical practitioner just fledged,—not to say have more sense.

I feel like I've really mastered my subjects and probably know more than the average newly graduated medical professional—not to mention having more common sense.

But the stake is so enormous. A pluck would be so perfectly awful after all antecedents.

But the stakes are so high. A disaster would be completely devastating after everything that's happened.

But in spite of my work, my brain is wonderfully well and clear.”

But despite my work, my mind is wonderfully sharp and clear.

“Monday, May 7th. 9.45 p.m. Books closed after 4½ hours’ reading and examination,—not to be opened probably till all is over!

Monday, May 7th. 9:45 p.m. Books are closed after 4.5 hours of reading and studying—not likely to be reopened until everything is done!

Be the fates propitious,—as I really think they ought, ... I the most comfortable of the three. ‘Where angels fear...?’ No,—I rather think on the principle of ‘While the child, etc.’

Be the fates favorable—as I truly believe they should be, ... I am the most comfortable of the three. ‘Where angels fear...?’ No—I prefer to think of it in the spirit of ‘While the child, etc.’

I’ve done my utmost,—and results are God’s.”

I’ve done my best—and the results are up to God.

One is thankful to record that results were safe in His hands (as indeed S. J.-B. would have said they must have been whatever the examiners had decided). Two or three days later the three women, with a number of men, were solemnly summoned to the Board Room,—“repeated declaration after Registrar, then signed book, and Dr. Hayden, as Vice-President, took the hand of each and ‘admitted’ us!”

One is grateful to note that the results were secure in His hands (as S. J.-B. would have insisted they had to be, regardless of what the examiners chose). A couple of days later, the three women, along with several men, were formally called to the Board Room—“we repeated the declaration after the Registrar, then signed the book, and Dr. Hayden, as Vice-President, took each of our hands and ‘admitted’ us!”

“Oh, dear, after long travail, good repose!”

“Oh, man, after so much hard work, finally a good rest!”

“All dreadfully overwrought and tired. E. P. and I came to fisticuffs over Mrs. A.’s Memorial to London University. Pair of fools!”

“All completely stressed out and exhausted. E. P. and I got into a fight over Mrs. A.’s Memorial to London University. What a couple of idiots!”

A characteristic telegram went off at once to Mrs. Jex-Blake:

A typical telegram was sent immediately to Mrs. Jex-Blake:

“Success just declared for all three of us.”

“Success has just been declared for all three of us.”

440And within an hour this was followed up by a letter:

440And within an hour, this was followed by a letter:

“... We are all so happy! The Exam. has been pretty stiff.

“... We are all so happy! The exam has been pretty tough.

Yours lovingly,

S. L. J. B. M. D. L. K. Q. C. P. I.”

The waiting Mother sends a mere scrap by return:

The waiting mother sends back just a tiny note:

“I don’t know how to be thankful enough that all is so well thro’. Nothing will seem a trouble now. God bless you,

“I don’t know how to express my gratitude that everything is going so well. Nothing seems like a burden now. God bless you,

Ever your loving Mother.

All going well with Pony, Turk, me, etc.”

Everything is going well with Pony, Turk, me, and so on.

And on the heels of this all the other congratulations pour in. “If I could I would ring the bells from Bow to Beersheba,” writes a friend and patient.

And right after this, all the other congratulations come flooding in. “If I could, I would ring the bells from Bow to Beersheba,” writes a friend and patient.

One almost feels that, if the bells had known the whole story, they would have rung of their own accord.

One almost feels that if the bells had known the whole story, they would have rung by themselves.

441

CHAPTER XXI
THE ROYAL FREE HOSPITAL

The friendly reader will feel, without doubt, that the year 1876-77 had done something to justify its passage, so far as the women were concerned, but the year 1876-77 was giving more than this. S. J.-B.’s main ideal, “Not me but us,” remained to be realized. The fundamental requisite, training in a large General Hospital, was no longer practically attainable in Great Britain. A handful of women had scaled the coveted height by means of steps cut, as it were, in ice that melted behind them. It remained to prepare a permanent way for those who were following on. And the year 1876-77 was destined to give this too.

The kind reader will undoubtedly feel that the year 1876-77 did something worthwhile for women, but it was offering even more than that. S. J.-B.'s main ideal, "Not me but us," still needed to be achieved. The essential requirement, training in a large General Hospital, was no longer practically feasible in Great Britain. A few women had reached this desired goal by climbing steps that seemed to melt away behind them. Now it was necessary to create a lasting path for those who would come after. And the year 1876-77 was set to provide that as well.

Mrs. Anderson and others had been endeavouring to obtain admission for women students to some of the wards of the London Hospital, and for a time their efforts had seemed likely to prove successful. They ended in the failure to which all the patient workers were becoming so accustomed, but meanwhile “that which was for”—the women—“was gravitating towards them.”

Mrs. Anderson and others had been trying to get women students admitted to some of the wards of the London Hospital, and for a while, their efforts looked like they might be successful. They ultimately ended in the same disappointment that all the dedicated workers were getting used to, but in the meantime, “that which was for”—the women—“was gravitating towards them.”

Before the end of 1876 Mr. Stansfeld had written:

Before the end of 1876, Mr. Stansfeld had written:

“Private.

“Restricted.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

I will bear the London University in mind as soon as I see anybody....

I will keep London University in mind as soon as I see anyone....

I met Mrs. Garrett Anderson at dinner the other day; she did not seem to have much hope or plan about the School in any way.

I met Mrs. Garrett Anderson at dinner the other day; she didn't seem to have much hope or any plan for the School at all.

I have however something to tell you that I think you will be rather pleased to hear. Mrs. Stansfeld and I went to Clapham 442today to call on the Hopgoods, with whom we had become friendly at Whitby: and Mr. Hopgood is Chairman of the Board of the Grays Inn Lane Hospital. We found them both with us, but strange to the question.

I have something to share that I think you'll be pretty happy to hear. Mrs. Stansfeld and I went to Clapham today to visit the Hopgoods, who we had gotten friendly with at Whitby; and Mr. Hopgood is the Chairman of the Board of the Grays Inn Lane Hospital. We found them both with us, but they seemed oddly distant when we asked questions.

I am to send Mr. Hopgood something to read, and he is to consider whether anything is possible there; he does not appear to be in awe of the staff.

I need to send Mr. Hopgood something to read, and he’s supposed to think about whether anything can be done there; he doesn't seem to be intimidated by the staff.

Just as I had begun to talk the Editor of the Contemporary Review [? Nineteenth Century] came in and listened and then expressed general sympathy in a timid way, but asked me if I would write him a paper shewing a practical way and outcome; and I undertook at once to do so.

Just as I started to speak, the Editor of the Contemporary Review [? Nineteenth Century] walked in and listened. He expressed some general sympathy in a shy manner but asked if I could write him a paper outlining a practical approach and results. I immediately agreed to do that.

The paper I can manage though I am glad to think I shall be likely to see you before I send it; but in dealing with Mr. Hopgood I very much wish you were here.... What time in January shall you be back, probably time enough for us to act together in the matter.

The paper I can handle, but I'm glad to think I'll likely see you before I send it. However, when dealing with Mr. Hopgood, I really wish you were here... What time in January do you think you'll be back? It should be early enough for us to work together on this.

Yours truly,

J. Stansfeld.”

In subsequent letters Mr. Stansfeld writes:

In later letters, Mr. Stansfeld writes:

“Jan. 5th. 77. I shall not consult anyone if I can avoid it. I think you and I have the best chance of managing it alone.”

“Jan. 5th. 77. I won’t consult anyone if I can help it. I believe you and I have the best chance of handling it on our own.”

“Jan. 13. 77. I congratulate you seriously and sincerely; it was time to get that particular anxiety off your mind, and to be M.D. at all events....

“Jan. 13. 77. I genuinely and sincerely congratulate you; it was about time to relieve yourself of that particular worry, and to be an M.D. at any rate...”

I will defer what I may have to say till we meet; but we’ll win and no mistake.”

I’ll hold off on what I have to say until we meet; but we’re definitely going to win, no doubt about it.”

“Stoke Lodge,
Hyde Park Gate, W.
Thursday evening.
[Feb. 9th. 77.]

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,

I have your letter, but feel a little doubtful about seeing Dr. Chambers until after Sunday when I am to see Mr. Hopgood.

I received your letter, but I'm a bit uncertain about meeting with Dr. Chambers until after Sunday when I'm scheduled to see Mr. Hopgood.

You may judge of what that interview should be, how hopeful and how critical, by his letter just received, which I copy on the other side.

You can get an idea of what that meeting will be like, how optimistic and how tense, from his letter I just received, which I’ve copied on the other side.

I think that you ought to be with me on Sunday if possible. I see there are plenty of trains.

I think you should be with me on Sunday if you can. I see there are plenty of trains.

We might be with him say at 3 p.m. If you would come here and lunch at 1.30 I would drive you down.

We could meet him around 3 p.m. If you come here and have lunch at 1:30, I can drive you over.

Pray telegraph reply tomorrow that I may write and let him know.

Please send a telegraph reply tomorrow so I can write and inform him.

Yours truly,

J. Stansfeld.”

443Follows the copy of Mr. Hopgood’s letter:

443Here’s the copy of Mr. Hopgood’s letter:

“I shall be at home all Sunday and glad to see you.... We dine at 5.

“I’ll be home all Sunday and would love to see you.... We eat dinner at 5.

I see my way so far clear that on receiving a formal application from your Association it shall be without delay submitted to our Weekly Board,—and I think they will forthwith summon a special meeting of the Committee of Management, whose decision will be final for the current year! My wish may be father to the thought, but I think that if you can make some such proposition as that we talked of we have a good prospect of success.

I can see my path ahead is so clear that once I receive a formal application from your Association, I will promptly submit it to our Weekly Board. I believe they will quickly call a special meeting of the Committee of Management, whose decision will be final for the current year! I might be hopeful, but I think if you can present a proposal like the one we discussed, we have a great chance of success.

My wife feels such a deep interest in the success of the movement that she wished me to say that if you think it desirable to form a guarantee fund, her name may be put down as a subscriber or guarantor to the extent of £100.”

My wife is really invested in the success of this movement and wants me to mention that if you think it’s a good idea to create a guarantee fund, you can include her name as a contributor or guarantor for £100.”

There is no record of that interesting and critical Sunday, but all seems to have gone as Mr. Stansfeld would have wished, for a week or two later Mr. Hopgood writes to S. J.-B.,—“I heartily wish that every success may attend this movement,—if so I know to whom it will be chiefly due.”

There’s no record of that important Sunday, but everything seems to have gone the way Mr. Stansfeld would have wanted. About a week or two later, Mr. Hopgood wrote to S. J.-B., saying, “I sincerely hope this movement is a success—if it is, I know who to thank for it.”

During S. J.-B.’s preoccupations the School had been in other hands.

During S. J.-B.’s distractions, the School had been in other hands.

On March 13th Mr. Stansfeld writes,

On March 13th, Mr. Stansfeld writes,

“Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

“Dear Miss Jex-Blake,”

Have you noticed the article in the Daily News of today on the London School of M. It is not written in our interest,—you are not mentioned and I not much; but there is a list of names rather new to me, omitting, however, Lord Aberdare, a true friend.^[130]

Have you seen the article in today’s Daily News about the London School of M? It doesn’t really cater to our interests—you’re not mentioned, and I’m hardly mentioned either; however, there is a list of names that is pretty new to me, though it does leave out Lord Aberdare, a true friend.^[130]

It looks as if tomorrow were pretty certain.

It seems like tomorrow is pretty sure.

Yours truly,

J. Stansfeld.”

444Close on the heels of this letter came a telegram:

444A telegram arrived right after this letter:

“Mar. 15th. Right Hon. J. Stansfeld, London, to Miss Jex-Blake 13 Sussex Square, Brighton,

London Free Hospital have unanimously accepted my proposal. Come before ten o’clock Saturday. I go out half past ten.”

London Free Hospital has unanimously accepted my proposal. Come before ten o’clock Saturday. I leave at half past ten.

Once more there was great rejoicing, and Mr. Stansfeld forwards to S. J.-B. a cordial letter from Mrs. Anderson:

Once again, there was a lot of celebration, and Mr. Stansfeld sent a warm letter from Mrs. Anderson to S. J.-B.:

“March 19. 77.

Dear Mr. Stansfeld,

Dear Mr. Stansfeld

As I was not able to join in the cheer which I am glad to hear was given for you at the School on Saturday, will you please accept my very heartiest thanks for your grand success at Gray’s Inn Road. We all owe more to you than to anyone. I do not imagine there will be any difficulty about the £700 a year for five years. I shall hope to be able to contribute £50 a year as my share.

As I couldn't join in the celebration that I’m happy to hear was held for you at the School on Saturday, please accept my sincere thanks for your amazing success at Gray’s Inn Road. We all owe you more than anyone else. I don’t think there will be any trouble regarding the £700 a year for five years. I hope to be able to contribute £50 a year as my part.

Yours very truly and gratefully,

E.G. Anderson.”

One thing more that wonderful year had given. Miss Edith Shove, who had accompanied Miss Pechey on the mission to Ireland, had made formal application to the University of London for admission to medical examination and degree. In February Mr. Smith Osier moved in the Senate that her request should be granted, and the motion was carried by 14 votes to 7. The majority consisted of the Chancellor (Lord Granville), Vice-Chancellor (Sir John Lubbock, M.P.), Lord Kimberley, Dr. Billing, Mr. Fitch, Sir William Gull, Mr. Heywood, Mr. Hutton, The Master of the Rolls (Right Hon. Sir G. Jessel), Right Hon. R. Lowe, M.P., Mr. Osler, Sir James Paget,^[131] Lord Arthur Russell and Dr. 445William Smith. The minority consisted of Lord Cardwell, the Dean of Lincoln, Mr. Goldsmid, Sir William Jenner, Dr. Quain, Dr. Sharpey and Dr. Storrar.

One more thing that remarkable year had given. Miss Edith Shove, who had gone with Miss Pechey on the mission to Ireland, had formally applied to the University of London for admission to medical exams and a degree. In February, Mr. Smith Osier proposed in the Senate that her request be granted, and the motion passed with 14 votes in favor and 7 against. The majority included the Chancellor (Lord Granville), Vice-Chancellor (Sir John Lubbock, M.P.), Lord Kimberley, Dr. Billing, Mr. Fitch, Sir William Gull, Mr. Heywood, Mr. Hutton, The Master of the Rolls (Right Hon. Sir G. Jessel), Right Hon. R. Lowe, M.P., Mr. Osler, Sir James Paget,^[131] Lord Arthur Russell, and Dr. 445William Smith. The minority included Lord Cardwell, the Dean of Lincoln, Mr. Goldsmid, Sir William Jenner, Dr. Quain, Dr. Sharpey, and Dr. Storrar.

S. J.-B. received the intelligence in the following note from Dr. Archibald Billing, the father of the profession, who had taken his own degree at Oxford in 1818:

S. J.-B. got the news in this note from Dr. Archibald Billing, the leading figure in the profession, who earned his degree at Oxford in 1818:

“34 Park Lane,

1/3/77.

“Dear Friend,

“Hey Friend,

All right. I was at my post and gave my opinion rather freely. We had a majority about two to one, but you shall have the minutes as soon as printed. Some of the medicos rather recanted.

All right. I was at my post and shared my opinion pretty openly. We had a majority of about two to one, but you'll get the minutes as soon as they're printed. Some of the doctors seemed to backtrack a bit.

Yours sincerely,

A. Payment.”^[132]

One last storm was raised in Convocation about the action of the Senate, on the ground that it dealt with the Faculty of Medicine only, but this final obstruction only proved the truth of Mr. Stansfeld’s wise dictum that when the hour for reform has come all that opponents can do is to widen its character or to precipitate its advent. On January 14th, 1878, a new Charter admitting women to all degrees was laid by the Senate before Convocation, and was carried by a majority of 241 to 132.

One last storm arose in Convocation regarding the Senate's decision, arguing that it only involved the Faculty of Medicine. However, this last resistance only confirmed Mr. Stansfeld’s insightful saying that when the time for reform arrives, all opponents can do is broaden its scope or hasten its arrival. On January 14th, 1878, a new Charter allowing women to receive all degrees was presented by the Senate to Convocation and was approved by a majority of 241 to 132.

So much good that year had brought—that annus mirabilis 1877—one must not be surprised if it brought some evil also. And, to S. J.-B. personally, it dealt one heavy blow. The School, as her Mother said, was her living child. She had conceived it, brought it forth, tended it, fought for it,—done most of the daily work it involved, with the help of a lady secretary she herself had trained. Until she was a qualified doctor, however, she did not wish her name to appear either on the Council or on the Governing Body. In all the early papers it occurs only as Trustee.

So much good came that year—what a remarkable year, 1877—that it’s not surprising it also brought some challenges. For S. J.-B. personally, it was a tough blow. The School, as her mother described it, was her creation. She had envisioned it, brought it to life, nurtured it, and fought for it—she handled most of the daily tasks with the help of a lady secretary she had trained herself. However, until she became a qualified doctor, she didn’t want her name to show up on either the Council or the Governing Body. In all the early documents, her name only appears as Trustee.

But she had always looked forward to her registration as something that would initiate a new order of things. That platform gained, and the dust of the struggle and fight left behind, she expected to take officially, as Honorary Secretary, 446the position she had filled hitherto without any recognition at all. Up till now she had been constantly harassed, driven,—striving for something that always receded when it seemed within her grasp. No wonder if she had often been hasty, high-handed, difficult. Now all that, so she thought, was past. We recall the dreams and ideals of her youth,—how she had longed to organize some fine new school for girls, of which, conceivably, she might be worthy to be the head.

But she had always looked forward to her registration as something that would bring about a new way of doing things. With that platform achieved and the dust from the struggle settled, she expected to officially take on the role of Honorary Secretary, 446 a position she had been fulfilling up to now without any recognition. Until now, she had been constantly pushed around, striving for something that always slipped away just when it seemed within her reach. It's no surprise that she had often been impulsive, assertive, and hard to deal with. Now, she believed all of that was behind her. We remember the dreams and ideals of her youth—how she had longed to organize an amazing new school for girls, a place where she might actually be worthy to lead.

“I am beginning to hope, Mother! If I only suffer enough—and I don’t believe mine will ever be a smooth or easy life—I may yet be fit to be the head for which I am looking so earnestly.”

“I’m starting to feel hopeful, Mom! If I just endure enough—and I don’t think my life will ever be smooth or easy—I might still be ready to be the leader I’m searching for so intensely.”

We have seen with what searchings of heart she laid aside this ideal for the long struggle of her medical career; but from first to last she never laid aside the sympathetic interest in her colleagues and juniors which was perhaps the most striking characteristic of her professional life. Is it strange if she now looked forward to a realization of the whole dream ?

We have seen how deeply she reflected as she set aside this ideal for the long journey of her medical career; but from beginning to end, she never lost her genuine interest in her colleagues and those less experienced, which was perhaps the most notable aspect of her professional life. Is it surprising that she now looked forward to making the entire dream a reality?

In any case that realization was not to be. Her enforced absences in the matter of her examination had given people a chance to do without her. We have seen that they had not always found her particularly easy to work with. “You wouldn’t let me muddle, and you wouldn’t let me dawdle, and how could I be happy?” one of her “daughters” used to cry in the radiant success of later years: and although it would not be fair to generalize this into a solution of the whole difficulty, it goes a long way to account for it. There were those who were thankful that things should be done a little less efficiently and more easily,—thankful to have a little more say in matters for which they felt themselves partially responsible. There were those who looked forward with sinking of heart to the time when S. J.-B. would return and really take up the reins.

In any case, that realization wasn't meant to be. Her forced absences during her exam had given people a chance to manage without her. We’ve seen that they hadn’t always found her particularly easy to work with. “You wouldn’t let me mess up, and you wouldn’t let me take my time, and how could I be happy?” one of her “daughters” would lament in the glowing success of later years: and while it wouldn’t be fair to generalize this as the solution to the whole issue, it certainly explains a lot. Some were grateful that things were done a little less efficiently and more easily—thankful to have a bit more input in matters for which they felt partially responsible. Others faced the prospect of S. J.-B.’s return with a heavy heart, knowing she would really take control again.

We have seen repeatedly that she never realized the strain of “difficulty” in her own nature, and she always had a cohort of loyal supporters; but she must have heard—or guessed—something of what was going on, for she wrote to Mr. Stansfeld that the task of being Honorary Secretary was too onerous to be undertaken except at the unanimous wish 447of those concerned. Perhaps Mrs. Thorne—Dr. Atkins—Mrs. Anderson—would care to undertake the task? Probably she knew for a fact that the two first named would refuse it; and it must have seemed impossible that Mrs. Anderson—overwhelmed as she was with other work—would entertain the suggestion.

We’ve seen time and again that she never recognized the pressures of “difficulty” within herself, and she always had a loyal group of supporters. But she must have heard—or figured out—something about what was happening, because she wrote to Mr. Stansfeld that the role of Honorary Secretary was too burdensome to take on unless everyone involved agreed. Maybe Mrs. Thorne, Dr. Atkins, or Mrs. Anderson would be willing to take on the responsibility? She probably knew for sure that the first two would decline, and it must have seemed impossible that Mrs. Anderson—buried as she was in other tasks—would even consider it.

S. J.-B. was still in Ireland when the question came up. Mrs. Thorne proposed S. J.-B. as Honorary Secretary, and someone else proposed Mrs. Anderson, both nominations being duly seconded.

S. J.-B. was still in Ireland when the question came up. Mrs. Thorne suggested S. J.-B. for Honorary Secretary, and someone else nominated Mrs. Anderson, both nominations being properly seconded.

Mrs. Anderson was in a difficult position, and said so frankly. She did not wish to take an unfair advantage over her colleague; but if it was to be for the good of the School—?

Mrs. Anderson was in a tough spot and admitted it openly. She didn’t want to take advantage of her colleague, but if it was for the benefit of the School—?

Mr. Stansfeld and the Dean (Mr. Norton, who was always S. J.-B.’s staunch supporter) were somewhat at a loss, and so no doubt were others; it was not an easy situation for anybody. After some talk the meeting was adjourned. Everything pointed to Mrs. Anderson’s election.

Mr. Stansfeld and the Dean (Mr. Norton, who was always S. J.-B.’s loyal supporter) were a bit confused, and so were probably others; it wasn’t an easy situation for anyone. After some discussion, the meeting was adjourned. Everything indicated that Mrs. Anderson would be elected.

But, when it came to the point, this was more than S. J.-B. could stand. Many lesser people would have accepted the situation gracefully, concealing any heartburning they might have felt, but this was just what S. J.-B. could not do. It was partly a personal question, of course. With every desire and effort to be fair, Mrs. Anderson had always looked at S. J.-B.’s life and work through the wrong end of the telescope, so to speak, and it is not easy to appreciate fully the people who make no secret of the fact that they take that view of us.

But when it came down to it, this was more than S. J.-B. could handle. Many lesser individuals would have accepted the situation gracefully, hiding any hurt they might have felt, but this was something S. J.-B. just couldn't do. It was partly a personal issue, of course. Despite her best efforts to be fair, Mrs. Anderson always saw S. J.-B.’s life and work through a distorted lens, so to speak, and it's not easy to fully appreciate those who openly admit that they see us that way.

But the personal question was not all. We remember how warmly S. J.-B. had spoken of her colleague in the old days, as “running where I crawl,”—how she had triumphed in every stage of her colleague’s success. She honestly felt that Mrs. Anderson was already too fully occupied to undertake so big a job,—felt that, humanly speaking, Mrs. Anderson could only lend her name, and do the work by proxy.

But that wasn't the only personal issue. We recall how warmly S. J.-B. used to talk about her colleague back in the day, calling her “running where I crawl”—celebrating every step of her colleague’s success. She genuinely believed that Mrs. Anderson was already too busy to take on such a big role—thought that, realistically, Mrs. Anderson could only offer her name and have someone else do the work.

And even that does not exhaust the subject. The truth is that S. J.-B., to the day of her death and with all her faults, was an incorrigible idealist; and Mrs. Anderson, rich though she was in excellent qualities, seemed to her to be lacking in 448certain capabilities of insight and imagination which outweighed everything else.

And even that doesn’t cover everything. The truth is that S. J.-B., until the day she died and despite all her flaws, was a hopeless idealist; and Mrs. Anderson, though she had many great qualities, didn’t seem to have the level of insight and imagination that mattered more than anything else.

“Put me utterly aside if need be!” she had cried in the self-surrender of her adolescence.

“Just forget about me completely if you have to!” she had exclaimed in the complete surrender of her youth.

And now she was taken at her word. But it was not easy to see the “need be.” For a time it was blotted out by the bitter experience of personal opposition.

And now she was taken at her word. But it wasn't easy to see the "need be." For a while, it was overshadowed by the painful experience of personal conflict.

It was a painful situation all round, but like so many painful situations, it called forth something fine. Mrs. Thorne was persona grata with all parties, and finally Mrs. Thorne stepped into the breach and allowed herself to be elected Honorary Secretary of the School.

It was a tough situation all around, but like many tough situations, it brought out something positive. Mrs. Thorne was welcomed by everyone, and in the end, she stepped up and agreed to be elected Honorary Secretary of the School.

“About the best possible,” wrote S. J.-B. in her diary, “with her excellent sense and perfect temper. SoSo much better than I.”

“About the best it could be,” wrote S. J.-B. in her diary, “with her great judgment and wonderful attitude. SoSo much better than I.”

It involved a definite sacrifice, for, although Mrs. Thorne had taken all her classes with distinction, she had only passed one professional examination; and she was not one of those who are content to scrape through. She had aimed at a London degree, and had even talked of taking her whole course over again in order to fulfil every requirement. Dr. Sewall had long since singled her out as “the doctor” in potentiality among the English medical women.

It required a clear sacrifice because, even though Mrs. Thorne had excelled in all her classes, she had only passed one professional exam. She wasn't someone who was satisfied with just getting by. She had set her sights on a degree from London and had even considered retaking her entire course to meet every requirement. Dr. Sewall had recognized her long ago as “the doctor” in potential among the English women in medicine.

Already family claims had made her pause. This new claim, combined with the others, proved more than she could withstand. She cast aside her own ambitions, and made the success of the School her main object in life.

Already, family issues had made her stop and think. This new claim, along with the others, was more than she could handle. She set aside her own ambitions and made the success of the School her primary focus in life.

“Sweet Sackermena and her isles!
See how many yards and miles
It takes to walk round Sackermena.”

A breezy way this of paraphrasing the more familiar passage:

A casual way to reword this well-known passage:

"It was such a difficult task to found the Roman people."

But what one really wants to express is,—See the amount of work, the number of people it took to achieve this one bit of human evolution! Even the many names in this book are culled from a great multitude.

But what we really want to say is—Look at the amount of work and the number of people it took to achieve this one aspect of human evolution! Even the many names in this book are drawn from a vast number of individuals.

449It was S. J.-B. who opened the subject boldly up, and forced the whole world to discuss it. It was she who—in the eye of the whole world—led the Edinburgh fight to its unforeseen sequel in Parliament and in the opening of the London School.

449It was S. J.-B. who boldly brought up the topic and made everyone talk about it. She was the one who—in front of the entire world—led the Edinburgh battle to its unexpected outcome in Parliament and the launch of the London School.

Miss Pechey was a loyal and stimulating comrade throughout, disarming opponents by the personal charm, intelligenceintelligence and humour which eventually opened the Irish College and gained the actual concession of the right of registration.

Miss Pechey was a supportive and inspiring companion all along, winning over opponents with her personal charm, intelligence, and humor, which ultimately led to the opening of the Irish College and secured the right to register.

Mrs. Thorne contributed a fine undercurrent of stability. It was not her way to write picturesque letters that lend themselves to quotation, but it was mainly owing to her that the London School became a lasting and conspicuous success.^[133]

Mrs. Thorne provided a strong sense of stability. She didn’t write colorful letters that were easy to quote, but it was largely because of her that the London School became a lasting and prominent success.^[133]

Pari passu with all this, as we have seen, and antecedently to any of it,—Mrs. Anderson was quietly showing the English world that a woman can be a reliable and successful doctor.

Equal footing with all this, as we've seen, and before any of it—Mrs. Anderson was quietly demonstrating to the English world that a woman can be a dependable and successful doctor.

Fine records all four, and surely no less fine was the brave, wise, unwearying championship of Professor Masson and Sir James Stansfeld, without whom—humanly speaking—nothing could have been achieved at all.

Fine records all four, and surely no less impressive was the brave, wise, tireless support of Professor Masson and Sir James Stansfeld, without whom—realistically speaking—nothing could have been accomplished at all.

Sir James Stansfeld would not have allowed us to draw the line there. In an able sketch of the whole movement up to 1877, in the Nineteenth Century, he concludes his survey with the following significant words:

Sir James Stansfeld wouldn't have let us stop there. In a thoughtful overview of the entire movement up to 1877, in the Nineteenth Century, he wraps up his discussion with these important words:

“One thing more remains to record. These pages will, I think, have presented to the reader’s mind evidence of a tough and persistent and continuous struggle. Such struggles do not persist and succeed, according to my experience, without the accompanying fact, the continuous thread, as it were, of one constant purpose and dominant will. Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake has made that greatest of all contributions to the end attained. I do not say that she has been the ultimate cause of success. The ultimate cause has been simply this, that the time was at hand. It is one of the lessons of the history of 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, 450when 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 seems to work, does most to aid. The forces of greatest concentration here have been, in my view, on the one hand the Edinburgh University led by Sir Robert Christison, on the other the women claimants led by Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake. Defeated at Edinburgh, she carried her appeal to the highest court, that most able to decide and to redress, the High Court of Parliament representing the Nation itself. The result we see at last. Those who hail it as the answer which they sought have both to thank, in senses and proportions which they may for themselves decide.”^[134]

“One more thing needs to be noted. I believe these pages will have shown the reader evidence of a tough, persistent, and ongoing struggle. From my experience, such struggles don’t persist and succeed without a consistent purpose and strong determination driving them. Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake has made a huge contribution to what has been achieved. I’m not saying she is the sole reason for this success. The main reason is simply that the time was right. The history of progress teaches us that when the time for reform has arrived, it cannot be resisted, though if you try, you can either change its nature or speed up its arrival. Opponents, when the time comes, are not just dragged along by the forces of progress—they actually help to steer them. The strongest force, no matter how it appears to act, contributes the most. In my view, the most significant forces here have been, on one side, the Edinburgh University led by Sir Robert Christison, and on the other, the women’s claimants led by Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake. After being defeated in Edinburgh, she took her case to the highest authority capable of making a decision and rectifying the situation, the High Court of Parliament representing the Nation itself. The result is finally visible. Those who celebrate it as the solution they were seeking should be grateful to both sides, in ways and degrees they can determine for themselves.”^[134]

It would be easy to close on this note, but it is on the earlier part of Sir James Stansfeld’s conclusion that one prefers to dwell. A tough and persistent struggle is indeed recorded in these pages—it was only on working through the vast mass of original documents that the present writer formed the faintest conception how tough and persistent that struggle had been—and yet what will strike the reader most is that it was emphatically not a “one man fight.” S. J.-B. never said “I” in connection with it. “You see we were so splendidly helped,” was her almost invariable comment on looking back.

It would be easy to wrap this up here, but it’s the earlier part of Sir James Stansfeld’s conclusion that deserves more attention. A tough and ongoing struggle is definitely documented in these pages—it was only after going through a huge amount of original documents that I began to understand just how tough and persistent that struggle had been—and yet what stands out most to the reader is that it was definitely not a “one man fight.” S. J.-B. never referred to it using “I.” “You see, we were so wonderfully supported,” was her usual remark when reflecting on it.

And she was splendidly helped. Not only by her fellow-students, by friendly professors, by the Editor of the Scotsman, and by those who would fain have been her patients. All that one was prepared to find. The amazing thing is the way in which—when all of these were almost paralyzed by the strength of the opposition (yes, and by her mistakes)—help came from somewhere. It might be the working-man, sending her a shilling to represent his sympathy, or the statesman in a London club, throwing down his newspaper with the determination that that woman should be baited no longer. In any case help came.

And she was incredibly supported. Not just by her classmates, by kind professors, by the Editor of the Scotsman, and by those who would have loved to be her patients. That was to be expected. The remarkable part is how—when all of these were nearly frozen in the face of such strong opposition (yes, and by her mistakes)—help came from unexpected places. It could be a worker sending her a pound to show his support, or a politician in a London club, throwing down his newspaper, determined that no one would pick on that woman anymore. In any case, help arrived.

Truly, as Sir James Stansfeld said, the time was at hand.

Truly, as Sir James Stansfeld said, the time had come.

And Newman is perfectly right when he says that, if the individual be powerful-minded and the cause good, the mistakes actually help. They increase the talk, increase the interest, help to make the picture that appeals to the popular 451imagination, till what has seemed to be the eccentric action of a single individual spreads out in waves that envelop the whole earth.

And Newman is completely right when he says that, if a person is strong-minded and the cause is good, the mistakes actually help. They spark conversation, boost interest, and contribute to creating the image that captures the public's imagination, until what seemed like the odd actions of one individual ripple out in waves that reach all corners of the globe. 451

Writing exactly forty years after the events just narrated—at a moment when women doctors are proving so vital an asset to the nation and to humanity at large—one realizes the difference it would have made to the whole world if Sophia Jex-Blake had been content to qualify abroad and to slip on to the Medical Register somehow, instead of throwing the gates wide open for all who were to follow her.

Writing exactly forty years after the events just described—at a time when women doctors are proving to be such an important asset to the country and to humanity as a whole—one realizes how different the world would have been if Sophia Jex-Blake had been satisfied to qualify abroad and get on the Medical Register somehow, instead of opening the doors wide for all those who would follow in her footsteps.

Reference has been made above to her love of poetry, and of all her poems there was none she was wont to recite more solemnly than Kipling’s Explorer:

Reference has been made above to her love of poetry, and of all her poems there was none she was used to reciting more solemnly than Kipling’s Explorer:

“Yes, your ‘Never-never country’—yes, your ‘edge of cultivation’

And ‘no sense in going further’—till I crossed the range to see.

God forgive me! No, I didn’t. It’s God’s present to our nation.

Anybody might have found it but—His Whisper came to Me!”

453

PART III

454

My fame is in the hands of others. I have weighed in a nice and scrupulous balance whether it is better to serve men or to be praised by them, and I prefer the former.

My reputation is in the hands of others. I've carefully considered whether it's better to serve people or to be admired by them, and I prefer the former.

Sydenham.

(Quoted in S. J.-B.’s commonplace book.)

Have I named one single river? Have I claimed one single acre? Have I kept one single nugget—(barring samples)? No, not I.

Have I named one single river? Have I staked a claim to one single acre? Have I held onto even one single nugget—(except for a few samples)? No, not me.

Kipling.

Your goodness must have some edge to it,—else it is none.

Your kindness needs to have some strength to it; otherwise, it isn't real kindness.

Emerson.

455

CHAPTER I
EARLY DAYS IN PRACTICE

The dramatic days were over. The task that now lay before S. J.-B. was to pick up all that remained of herself after the conflict, and settle down to practice. It is a solemn moment in the history of any doctor when he or she deliberately takes in hand the issues of life and death: mistakes can no more be avoided in this than in any other walk of life, and yet the consequences here are so much more apparently important.

The dramatic days were behind her. The challenge ahead for S. J.-B. was to gather all that was left of herself after the conflict and focus on her practice. It’s a serious moment in any doctor's career when they consciously address matters of life and death: mistakes can’t be avoided any more in this field than in any other, yet the consequences here feel so much more apparently significant.

And if it is a solemn moment for any man or woman, it was surely not less so for her who for years had been a city set on a hill. In the course of the long struggle youth had quite slipped away; her best energies were spent; her nervous system was overstrained beyond the possibility of complete recuperation. If George Eliot could say with some truth that she began Romola as a young woman and ended it an old one, how much more might S. J.-B. have said this of her education in medicine. Perhaps the coward in her would gladly now have shunned the conflict altogether.

And if it was a serious moment for anyone, it was definitely no less so for her, who for years had been a beacon. Throughout the long struggle, her youth had faded away; her best energies were exhausted; her nervous system was overstressed beyond the chance of complete recovery. If George Eliot could say with some truth that she started Romola as a young woman and finished it as an older one, how much more could S. J.-B. have said this about her journey in medicine. Perhaps her inner coward would have happily avoided the struggle altogether now.

Small say was allowed to that coward at any time, and at this juncture few even of S. J.-B.’s friends realized that—as regarded output of energy—she had already done a life’s work. No one would have been surprised if she had died a few years before, in the stress of the fight; but the human memory is short, and, as she had survived, almost everyone now looked upon the toil of the last ten years as simply the introduction to the volume. She was now expected to show how great a success a woman doctor can be.

Small talk was allowed about that coward at any time, and at this point, few of S. J.-B.’s friends realized that—considering her output of energy—she had already accomplished a lifetime of work. No one would have been shocked if she had passed away a few years earlier, overwhelmed by the struggle; but human memory is short, and since she had survived, almost everyone now viewed the hard work of the last ten years as just the preface to her story. She was now expected to demonstrate how successful a woman doctor can be.

456First came the anxious question where to settle, and, while she meditated on this, she was making good, at Brompton and wherever she could find an entry,^[135] the deficiencies in her hospital education.

456First came the worried question of where to settle, and while she thought about this, she was improving, at Brompton and wherever she could find an opportunity,^[135] the gaps in her hospital education.

Her original plan had been to settle in London, to foster the School she had founded, and at the same time to be within easy reach of her Mother,—the Mother for whom she would at any moment in her life have thrown up every hope and plan that guided her.

Her original plan was to move to London, to support the school she had started, while also being close to her mom—the mom for whom she would have given up any hope and plan at any moment in her life.

There is no doubt that this would have been in most respects the ideal arrangement. There is room for everyone in London. In those days it was absolutely essential for a woman doctor to settle in a town large enough to allow for the overwhelming proportion of patients who declined to take their lives in their hands, so to speak, by trusting one of their own sex. Even if the patient herself was willing to lean her whole weight on an untried plank, husbands and mothers stood in the way. Indeed there were girls who reckoned it the prime luxury involved in earning their own living that they became free to employ the doctor of their choice—a woman.

There’s no doubt that this would have been, in many ways, the perfect setup. There’s space for everyone in London. Back then, it was absolutely necessary for a female doctor to settle in a big enough town to accommodate the majority of patients who wouldn’t risk their health by trusting another woman. Even if the patient herself was ready to take a chance on an untested option, husbands and mothers often objected. In fact, there were young women who considered the biggest perk of earning their own money was that they could choose to hire a doctor they preferred—a woman.

It is true that patients—and still more their male relatives—were readier to trust S. J.-B. than they would have been to trust most other women. Her inherent motherliness was not weakened by any aggressive femininity; but on the other hand it is not to be supposed that she was any less alarming than she had been as a student. No doctor ever inspired greater enthusiasm and devotion than she did, but it was on the whole the few to whom she appealed. Her vein of tenderness lay too deep for the casual eye to see; and many were afraid of the occasional high-handed imperious ways and the disregard of what people were likely to say.

It’s true that patients—and especially their male relatives—were more willing to trust S. J.-B. than they would have been to trust most other women. Her natural motherliness wasn’t overshadowed by any forceful femininity; however, it shouldn’t be assumed that she was any less intimidating than she had been as a student. No doctor ever inspired more enthusiasm and loyalty than she did, but overall, it was only a few people she truly connected with. Her deep compassion wasn’t visible to everyone; many were put off by her occasional bossy attitude and her indifference to what others might think.

“It was like being lifted on a comet’s tail,” writes a patient to whom she had been called in an emergency in March 1878, “when you came in, strong and swift, with your eagle wings, getting over distances in a third of the time other people take to do it.”

“It was like being lifted on a comet’s tail,” writes a patient to whom she had been called in an emergency in March 1878, “when you came in, strong and swift, with your eagle wings, covering distances in a third of the time it takes other people to get there.”

457This is admirable, and describes what many felt, but although being lifted on a comet’s tail is exactly what many patients want, the treatment is not universally applicable.

457This is impressive and reflects what many people experienced, but while riding a comet's tail is exactly what many patients desire, this treatment isn’t suitable for everyone.

London, then, would probably have supplied S. J.-B. with a larger practice than she could have worked; many friends, and particularly her brother, were keenly anxious that she should settle there; Mr. Norton always regretted her departure; but, now that the School had been taken out of her hands, it seemed inadvisable that she should remain as a looker-on. The difficulty was to find another place big and representative enough: she dreaded the great midland towns. After much consultation, she decided on the last place on earth she might have been expected to choose,—on Edinburgh.

London would likely have offered S. J.-B. a larger practice than she could handle; many friends, especially her brother, were eager for her to settle there; Mr. Norton always regretted her leaving. However, now that the School was no longer hers, it didn't seem wise for her to stay as a bystander. The challenge was finding another location that was both big and significant enough; she was apprehensive about the major midland cities. After a lot of discussion, she chose the last place anyone would have expected her to pick—Edinburgh.

It was partly the bracing climate, partly the beautiful drives, partly the many friends who had stood by her so gallantly, that led to this spirited decision, but on the whole it was a mistake. The smoke of the conflict was still hot, and some of those who had admired her most had admired her for qualities which were not what they sought in a physician.

It was partly the refreshing climate, partly the stunning drives, and partly the many friends who had supported her so bravely that led to this bold decision, but overall it was a mistake. The aftermath of the conflict was still fresh, and some of those who had admired her the most had appreciated her for qualities that weren't necessarily what they were looking for in a doctor.

Moreover, she was the last person on earth to play up to the expectations of the community in which she lived. The Edinburgh of those days was a more conventional place than Edinburgh is now, and doctors above all were expected to conform to a particular standard. There was a general impression that piety paid and that an interest in missions was a great help to success in practice.

Moreover, she was the last person on earth to cater to the expectations of the community she lived in. The Edinburgh of that time was a more traditional place than Edinburgh is today, and doctors, in particular, were expected to meet certain standards. There was a common belief that being devout was beneficial and that having an interest in missions greatly helped in achieving success in their practice.

“You never will succeed unless you conform to these usages,” said a friend: “You might have Edinburgh at your feet if you would go to church regularly and show yourself a religious woman,” said another.

“You'll never succeed unless you go along with these customs,” said a friend. “You could have Edinburgh at your feet if you attended church regularly and presented yourself as a religious woman,” said another.

It is needless to say that these were not the arguments to use with S. J.-B. Never, moreover, since the far-off school-days in which she had given a highly-valued shilling to “the Jews” had she taken any interest in missions. That vein in her was worked out, or transmuted into something else. The more she read of the old religions—and she did read—the more she found in them to admire and respect,—the more it seemed to her that they were the fitting medium for the training of the people to whom they had been given. 458It must be frankly admitted too that she continued to see such questions in the atmosphere of the particular Evangelical school in which she had been brought up; in recognizing the evolution of the individual—of herself as an individual—she failed to recognize the evolution of the medium; and her life was so full of active beneficent interests as to leave scant time for the consideration of questions that did not at first sight appeal to her,—that did not seem to be her job.

It goes without saying that these weren’t the right arguments to use with S. J.-B. Moreover, since her distant school days when she had given a cherished shilling to “the Jews,” she hadn’t taken any interest in missions. That part of her was either exhausted or transformed into something else. The more she read about ancient religions—and she definitely did read—the more she discovered to admire and respect in them. It seemed to her that they were the appropriate way to educate the people to whom they were given. 458It has to be honestly acknowledged too that she continued to view such issues through the lens of the specific Evangelical community in which she had grown up; while recognizing her own personal evolution, she overlooked the evolution of the medium itself. Her life was so filled with active, helpful interests that she had little time to think about questions that didn’t immediately resonate with her or didn’t seem to be her responsibility.

In the Edinburgh, too, of those days, the ordinary people who “counted” were the people who liked things done “just so.” It disturbed their sense of the fitting, for instance, that S. J.-B. should pay professional visits, driving herself in a pony phaeton. Altogether she was too big, too untrammeled for the post. What was wanted was the woman who is a credit to any cause she may adopt. There are plenty of them now-a-days.

In Edinburgh back then, the regular folks who really mattered were the ones who wanted everything done “just right.” It bothered them that S. J.-B. made professional visits, driving herself in a pony cart. Overall, she was too large, too free-spirited for the role. What they wanted was a woman who reflected well on any cause she might support. There are plenty of those these days.

Finally, S. J.-B. realized from the first that, with her limited physical resources, she could not combine a social with a professional life. Hospitality is a poor word to describe the manner in which her door stood open to the few she loved, to those whom she thought she could help, to all in whom she recognized any sort of spiritual kinship; but from ordinary social engagements she stood aloof. She refused invitations to dinner,^[136] or made excuse to leave so early that she might better, perhaps, not have gone; she declined to be lionised in any way; and she was apt to snub those whom she suspected of wishing to know her from motives of curiosity.

Finally, S. J.-B. realized from the beginning that, with her limited physical energy, she couldn't balance a social life with a professional one. "Hospitality" doesn't quite capture how her door was always open to the few people she loved, to those she thought she could help, and to anyone with whom she felt a spiritual connection; however, she kept her distance from regular social gatherings. She turned down dinner invitations,^[136] or made excuses to leave so early that it would have been better if she hadn't gone at all; she refused to be treated like a celebrity in any way; and she was likely to brush off anyone she suspected wanted to know her out of mere curiosity.

We must not forget how different she could be from all this,—how radiant, how sympathetic, how full of humour and fun. “What a comfort it is,” writes a patient at this time, “to see your dear supporting face!” “You always come as Hercules did to Alcestis,” writes another. “Emily and I have often spoken of your ‘How are you?’ being like his, ‘I am here to help.’”

We shouldn't forget how different she could be from all of this—how bright, how understanding, and how full of humor and fun. “What a relief it is,” a patient writes at this time, “to see your comforting face!” “You always come like Hercules did for Alcestis,” writes another. “Emily and I have often talked about how your ‘How are you?’ is like his, ‘I’m here to help.’”

459Nor am I working up to the avowal that she was a professional failure: she was not: in many ways she was a great success. But if Edinburgh—like Cousin Ellie of old—could have made “even a slight alteration” in her, she might almost indeed have had the town at her feet.

459I'm not trying to say she was a total failure; she wasn't. In many ways, she was very successful. But if Edinburgh—like Cousin Ellie back in the day—could have made "even a slight change" in her, she could have had the city at her feet.

She took the house 4 Manor Place, and in June 1878 she put her plate on the door and began. Three months later she started a small dispensary. Her professional isolation was great: Dr. Pechey was at Leeds; the other medical women were in London or farther afield. A doctor in the early days is sorely handicapped if he cannot discuss difficult cases and questions with his contemporaries and seniors. S. J.-B. never had, except for a few days at a time, the daily chit-chat—what students call the “shop”—that is so helpful; but she was not allowed to suffer. Dr. Heron Watson, Dr. George Balfour, and Dr. Angus Macdonald supported her with a chivalrous loyalty of which it is difficult to write calmly even now. They encouraged her to appeal to them at any time: they put the whole wealth of their learning and experience at her disposal; and—what was not a matter of course in those days—there was not a single question in all the complicated domain of medicine which they would not discuss with her as frankly as if she had been a man. It must be borne in mind that in her own special subject, the diseases of women, her equipment was all that could be desired. It was not for nothing that she had worked for two years under Dr. Sewall at Boston. If adequate training had been available, she might have made a great gynæcological surgeon, for she had great calmness and presence of mind in an emergency, and her hands, though full of character, were small and deft. Dr. Sewall always regretted the waste of her potentiality in this respect.

She took the house at 4 Manor Place, and in June 1878, she put her sign on the door and got started. Three months later, she opened a small dispensary. Her professional isolation was significant: Dr. Pechey was in Leeds; the other female doctors were either in London or farther away. A doctor in the early days is really at a disadvantage if they can’t discuss challenging cases and questions with peers and mentors. S. J.-B. rarely had, except for a few days at a time, the daily conversations—what students refer to as the “shop”—that are so helpful; but she wasn’t left to struggle. Dr. Heron Watson, Dr. George Balfour, and Dr. Angus Macdonald supported her with a remarkable loyalty that's hard to describe calmly even now. They encouraged her to reach out to them anytime: they shared all their knowledge and experience with her; and—what wasn’t typical back then—there wasn’t a single question in the complex field of medicine they wouldn’t discuss with her as openly as if she were a man. It’s important to note that in her specific area, the diseases of women, she had all the skills anyone could want. It was no small feat that she had trained for two years under Dr. Sewall in Boston. If proper training had been available, she could have become an excellent gynecological surgeon, as she remained calm and composed in emergencies, and her hands, though strong, were small and skilled. Dr. Sewall always regretted the loss of her potential in this regard.

The following extracts are from letters written during the first few months of practice:

The following excerpts are from letters written during the first few months of practice:

To her Mother,

To her Mom,

“My Darling,

"My Love,"

I know you will be pleased to hear that I yesterday received fees which just completed my first £50,—earned in Edinburgh in 460less than three months,—and that in what they call the “empty” season. And what pleases me still better is that everyone of my patients has done well. Several have left my hands practically recovered, and those who are still there are all going on satisfactorily. And as among them were two cases to which I was called when the patient was described as ‘dying’ (and both got well) I think I may very well be content. I have had 23 patients (nearly 100 visits) at my private house, and about as many more at my Dispensary, which has only been open a fortnight; so I don’t think there is much doubt about the ‘demand’ nor about my prospects.”

I know you’ll be happy to hear that I received fees yesterday that brought my earnings to £50—earned in Edinburgh in less than three months—and during what they call the “empty” season. What makes me even happier is that all my patients have done well. Several of them have left my care practically recovered, and those who are still with me are all doing okay. Among them were two cases where I was called in when the patient was described as ‘dying’ (and both recovered), so I think I can feel pretty satisfied. I’ve had 23 patients (nearly 100 visits) at my private practice, and about as many at my Dispensary, which has only been open for two weeks; so I don’t think there’s much doubt about the ‘demand’ or my prospects.

To Dr. King Chambers,

“I feel I am learning a great deal from the large variety of practice here. You will see from the enclosed paper that I have the help and support of four ^[137] of the best medical men in Edinburgh, and they are all excessively kind in giving me advice and help as often as I want it. No one ever had better friends and I doubt if anyone ever liked a profession better than I like mine.

“I feel like I'm learning a lot from the wide range of practice here. You can see from the attached paper that I have the help and support of four ^[137] of the best doctors in Edinburgh, and they are all incredibly kind in offering me advice and assistance whenever I need it. No one has ever had better friends, and I doubt anyone has ever enjoyed their profession as much as I enjoy mine.”

I find that each of my cases involves so much reading and thinking that I am almost anxious they should not multiply too fast.”

I realize that each of my cases requires so much reading and thinking that I’m almost worried they won’t pile up too quickly.

To Dr. (now Sir Thomas) Barlow to whom she had commended a young colleague,

To Dr. (now Sir Thomas) Barlow, to whom she had recommended a young colleague,

“March 24th. [1879.]

Dear Sir,

I thank you very much for the kind response to my note which reached me this morning. I feel sure that you will find Miss K. grateful for your kindness and most anxious to benefit by it. I have had repeated cause myself in my own Dispensary work to be thankful for the various lessons I learned from you and Dr. Lee.

I really appreciate your thoughtful reply to my note that I received this morning. I'm sure Miss K. will be grateful for your kindness and eager to take advantage of it. I've often found myself thankful for the many lessons I learned from you and Dr. Lee in my Dispensary work.

Thank you also for the kind interest you express in my personal success, which indeed is all that I could desire. I have about 25 or 30 patients at the Dispensary every day that it is opened, and I also have a much larger private practice than is usual at so early a date. I have not yet been established here in practice quite 9 months, and I find that I have already had about 400 visits to or from private patients, which I think you will allow shows the ‘demand’ is a real one.

Thank you for your genuine interest in my personal success, which truly means a lot to me. I see about 25 to 30 patients at the Dispensary every day it’s open, and my private practice is also much bigger than typical for someone just starting out. I haven’t even been practicing here for 9 months yet, and I’ve already had around 400 visits with private patients, which I think you’ll agree shows that there is a real demand.

As you refer to the ‘general question of lady doctors’ you must allow me to say that I am quite sure it would have your support, from at any rate one point of view, if you had the least idea of the 461amount of preventible suffering which women bear with rather than consult men in special cases....

As you mention the ‘general question of female doctors,’ I must say that I truly believe you would support it, at least from one perspective, if you had any understanding of the 461amount of preventable suffering that women endure instead of seeking help from male doctors in specific situations....

Now I do not care for a moment to argue whether this feeling is right or wrong; ... if the feeling exists it should be distinctly recognized as an element in the question; and I am quite sure that you would be one of the very first to desire that every possible remedy should be brought to such needless suffering.

Now, I don’t want to spend any time debating whether this feeling is right or wrong; ... if the feeling is there, it should definitely be recognized as a factor in the issue; and I’m sure you’d be one of the first to want every possible solution to be applied to such unnecessary suffering.

In the same way I never care to argue at all about the relative capabilities of men and women. I mean to try to do my own work up to the very best of my power, and that is all that really concerns me. I cannot imagine any work nobler or more perfectly fascinating, than that of medicine, and I am very thankful to be allowed ever so small a share in it.”

I don't really care to argue about the differences between what men and women can do. I just want to focus on doing my own work to the best of my ability, and that's what matters to me. I can't think of any job more honorable or interesting than medicine, and I’m really grateful to have even a small role in it.

To Mrs. Henry Kingsley,

“I have full as much work at my Dispensary as I can manage, indeed I am pretty well used up on those days, but I always enjoy them.

“I have as much work at my Dispensary as I can handle; in fact, I’m pretty worn out on those days, but I always enjoy them.”

I am just going to begin a course of lectures which I hope may be successful.

I’m about to start a series of lectures that I hope will be successful.

It is hard work altogether, but nothing to the old worries.”

It’s a lot of hard work, but it’s nothing compared to the old worries.

Hard work indeed it was, especially when one bears in mind that she was urged at times to undertake confinements at a very considerable distance,—as far off as Yorkshire. Moreover, being a woman, she had of course the cares of housekeeping, and S. J.-B. always took her housekeeping very seriously.^[138] She was herself a good cook and an excellent manager, and her staff were expected to carry out her methods and principles loyally. If they happened to be lazy and unprincipled, or even easy-going, their tenure of office was likely to be brief. Her comfortable home—in common with all the other gifts of the gods—meant nothing to her unless she could share it. How heartfelt was her hospitality may be gathered from the following letters:

Hard work it certainly was, especially considering she was sometimes asked to travel long distances, even to Yorkshire, for deliveries. Plus, as a woman, she had the added responsibilities of managing a household, and S. J.-B. always took her home duties very seriously.^[138] She was a good cook and an excellent manager, and her staff were expected to follow her methods and principles faithfully. If they were lazy, dishonest, or even just laid-back, their jobs wouldn’t last long. Her comfortable home—like all the other blessings of life—meant nothing to her unless she could share it. Her genuine hospitality can be seen in the following letters:

“August 15th. [? 1878.]

Dear Miss Irby,

Dear Ms. Irby,

Welcome home again! I saw in yesterday’s paper that you had reached England, and was going to write when your letter came. I shall be delighted to see you again! I expect to be here all autumn 462and winter (with the exception of a few days) and shall be only too glad to have you whenever you like best to come. Only do manage to give me at least a week, and let me know which time suits you best as soon as possible, so that I may make my plans suit yours.

Welcome back! I saw in yesterday's newspaper that you made it to England, and I was planning to write when your letter arrived. I can’t wait to see you again! I expect to be here all autumn and winter (except for a few days) and would love to have you visit whenever it works best for you. Just please try to give me at least a week’s notice, and let me know what time works best for you as soon as you can, so I can plan accordingly. 462

Several people are most anxious to meet you, so I will ask them to dinner, etc., when you fix a time; but I hope you won’t accept invitations much (you are sure to have dozens) as I do want you to get a little rest while with me, and I want to take you drives about Edinburgh,—the country is so lovely. I shall tell everybody you will be too tired to go out much.

Several people are really eager to meet you, so I’ll invite them to dinner when you set a time. However, I hope you won’t accept too many invitations (you’re bound to get dozens) because I want you to get some rest while you’re with me, and I’d love to take you on drives around Edinburgh—the countryside is beautiful. I’ll let everyone know you’ll be too tired to go out much.

Would you like a public meeting here? I daresay it would help, though most residents are away at this season.

Would you like to have a public meeting here? I think it would be helpful, although most residents are away this time of year.

Yours affectionately,

S. Jex-Blake.”

“June 16th. [1879.]

Dear Mrs. Thorne,

I hear that your two girls are coming to Morton next week. Don’t you think it would be very wrong to let them travel so far all alone? Don’t you think it is clearly your duty to come and stay a week or two with me when you arrive? I should like so very much to see you again at something like leisure, and also to show you my Dispensary and all and sundry I am doing here. So many Edinbro’ friends would like to see you! Do try to come if only for a week or two!

I heard your two daughters are coming to Morton next week. Don’t you think it would be quite wrong to let them travel that far by themselves? Don’t you think it's really your responsibility to come and stay with me for a week or two when you get here? I would really love to see you again in a more relaxed setting, and also show you my Dispensary and everything else I’m working on here. So many friends from Edinburgh would love to see you! Please try to come, even if it’s just for a week or two!

I remember that the ‘wonderful woman’ went to London and back for 24 hours once, so she can’t mind travelling! In haste

I remember that the 'amazing woman' went to London and back in just 24 hours once, so she must not mind traveling! In a hurry

Yours sincerely,

S. Jex-Blake.”

“June 18th.

Dear Mrs. Thorne,

Dear Mrs. Thorne

I shall be really delighted if you will come down with your girls and spend a week or two with me while they are at Morton. You and I have never had any really quiet time together since our student days, and I cannot tell you how much I should enjoy some talks with you, and how glad I should be of your advice about lots of things in my Dispensary and otherwise. Dr. Sewall you know always said you were the doctor among us, and I quite believe it. I wish so very often that I could ask you about things.”

I would be really delighted if you could come down with your girls and spend a week or two with me while they’re at Morton. You and I haven’t had any really quiet time together since our student days, and I can’t tell you how much I’d enjoy some conversations with you, and how grateful I would be for your advice on many things in my Dispensary and beyond. Dr. Sewall always said you were the doctor among us, and I totally believe it. I often wish I could ask you about things.

To a colleague in London she writes a month or two later:

To a coworker in London, she writes a month or two later:

“Your thanking me so much for a very moderate amount of good nature shown to Miss X., makes me wonder how you expect one to behave to people who are ill and poor. I am sure you yourself act 463upon the ‘aux plus déshérités le plus amour’ principle? Seriously I have done very little for her beyond what I should have done for anybody more or less in her position, except perhaps half a dozen drives and dinners which I promised ‘pour l’amour de vos beaux yeux' before I saw her.

“Your constant thanks for a pretty small amount of kindness shown to Miss X. makes me wonder how you expect someone to treat people who are sick and poor. I’m sure you yourself operate on the ‘to the most disadvantaged, the most love’ principle? Honestly, I've done very little for her beyond what I would have done for anyone similarly situated, except maybe a few drives and dinners that I offered ‘for the love of your beautiful eyes’ before I met her.”

I am afraid you must think me a very ungrateful person in my turn, for I don’t say a quarter as much about your various kindnesses to me and my friends.”

I’m afraid you must think I’m a really ungrateful person because I don’t mention your many kindnesses to me and my friends nearly as much.

She always had a word of brave and wise advice for colleagues who appealed to her:

She always had a brave and wise word of advice for colleagues who turned to her:

“I am inclined to think you had better send Miss Z. off to Australia. I am sure Miss Du Pre will gladly do her part if you write to her about it. She is now at ‘Surbiton, S.W.,’—no farther address required.

“I think it would be better if you sent Miss Z. to Australia. I'm sure Miss Du Pre will be happy to help if you write to her about it. She's currently at ‘Surbiton, S.W.,’—no other address needed.”

I think you are quite wrong to think you will ‘not forgive yourself’ if the plan does not succeed. I have long ago come to the conclusion that ‘efforts are ours, results are God’s,’—and, if you don’t like that phraseology, you can paraphrase it as you like, so long as you acquiesce in my conclusion that we are not to blame or worry ourselves if things go wrong when we have done our best.

I think you’re totally wrong to believe you will 'not forgive yourself' if the plan doesn’t work out. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that ‘we control our efforts, but the results are up to God’—and if you don’t like how that sounds, you can rephrase it however you want, as long as you agree with my conclusion that we shouldn't blame or stress ourselves if things go wrong after we’ve done our best.

How I wish we could sit by that upstairs window and have a chat over it all!”

How I wish we could sit by that upstairs window and talk about everything!

“No, life isn’t a bit of a failure, and you wouldn’t think so if we could get ten days’ holiday together up in the highlands!—don’t I wish we could!—for I am very tired too.

“No, life isn’t a total fail, and you wouldn’t feel that way if we could take ten days off together in the highlands!—I really wish we could!—because I’m really tired too.

I’ve got to go off to Yorkshire in a few days to attend ——’s patient....

I have to head off to Yorkshire in a few days to see ——’s patient....

My coachman got drunk last week, and I turned him off at an hour’s notice, and had to see to the stable myself for a day or two!—My whole household has been upside down, and in the midst of it my dear old Turk died last week, but quite quietly and without pain. I have a new page, and a new cook, and a new groom,^[139] and am going to have a new housemaid,—don’t you pity me?—Still I say ‘Life is good,’—Can you have better testimony?”

My driver got drunk last week, so I fired him with just an hour's notice and had to handle the stables myself for a day or two! My whole household has been in chaos, and in the midst of it, my dear old Turk passed away last week, but he went peacefully and without pain. I have a new page, a new cook, and a new groom,^[139] and I'm about to hire a new housemaid—don't you feel sorry for me?—Still, I say 'Life is good'—can you have a better testament?”

Her advice on occasion could be fairly drastic:

Her advice could sometimes be pretty extreme:

“Yes,—I know about Miss W. Why do you let her stay 1½ hours with you? At the end of five minutes I should take out my watch and say,—‘Now I have just ten minutes more for you,—is there anything you want to say?’ That’s the way to treat those sort of folks. I am not ‘too good for this world.’”

“Yes,—I know about Miss W. Why do you let her stay an hour and a half with you? After five minutes, I would take out my watch and say,—‘Now I have just ten minutes left for you,—is there anything you want to say?’ That’s how to handle those kinds of people. I am not ‘too good for this world.’”

464Here is a rather amusing answer to a question from Dr. Pechey,—“Why“Why do you recommend Vermouth?”

464Here's a somewhat funny response to a question from Dr. Pechey: “Why“Why do you suggest Vermouth?”

“Dear Edie,

“Hey Edie,

I sent off my two cards to you too hurriedly to answer about ‘Vermouth’!—but now let me say at my leisure that I never heard anything more beautifully illustrative of the way stories are ‘evolved.’

I sent my two cards to you too quickly to comment on ‘Vermouth’!—but now let me take my time to say that I’ve never heard anything more beautifully illustrative of how stories are ‘evolved.’

The one and only occasion when I made acquaintance with Vermouth was when one day, during a hurried call at Mrs. Nichol’s, the dear old lady in Mr. F.’s presence, offered me some Vermouth as something new she had got, and insisted on my tasting it,—which I did, and said I thought it ‘very nice,’ as in duty bound! Neither before nor afterwards have I either seen or heard of it! It really is nice, I think,—in the orange bitters line,—but further I know nothing about it, and certainly never recommended it in my life—nor expect to.

The only time I ever tried Vermouth was one day during a quick visit to Mrs. Nichol’s. The sweet old lady, with Mr. F. there, offered me some Vermouth that she had just gotten and insisted I taste it. I did, and since it was the polite thing to say, I told her I thought it was "very nice." I’ve never seen or heard of it before or since! Honestly, I think it *is* nice, kind of in the orange bitters category, but other than that, I know nothing about it, and I've certainly never recommended it in my life—and I don’t plan to.

My professional life is, I find, largely a crusade against tea and alcohol, so certainly I am not likely to preach up new liqueurs—if this is one.”

My work life is basically a mission against tea and alcohol, so I definitely won’t be promoting any new liqueurs—if that’s what this is.

To Dr. Sewall she writes,

To Dr. Sewall, she writes,

“Oct. 8th. [1879.] ... I have a very charming little brougham, which my Mother gave me; and a beautiful horse, quiet as a lamb and strong as a bull, from Miss Du Pre. Altogether it is an extremely smart turn-out, and I should like so much to show it to you! I hope I shall this summer. You must come then if possible,—it is so hard to be apart so many years!

“Oct. 8th. [1879.] ... I have a lovely little carriage that my mom gave me, and a beautiful horse, as gentle as a lamb and as strong as an ox, from Miss Du Pre. Overall, it’s a really stylish setup, and I would love to show it to you! I hope I can this summer. You have to come if you can—I miss you so much after all these years!

I am so sorry my Father’s carriage is worn out. That little gift was such a pleasure to him and almost the last thing he did. I think the letter in which he told me he had paid the money to my bankers was the very last I had from him—dear old man!...

I’m really sorry that my dad’s carriage is worn out. That small gift brought him so much joy and was nearly the last thing he did. I believe the letter where he told me he had paid the money to my bankers was the very last one I received from him—dear old man!...

Dr. King Chambers gave the inaugural address at our School this year, I moved the vote of thanks to him,^[140] as it was my one day in London. I will try to send you a report.”

Dr. King Chambers gave the inaugural address at our school this year, and I led the vote of thanks to him,^[140] since it was my only day in London. I’ll try to send you a report.

Later she writes,

Later, she writes,

“I have rather a sore heart today, for dear old Turk has just died in my arms.... He seemed about as usual today, but rose from where he was by the kitchen fire, walked into the scullery and fell over. They fetched me, and he gave just two gasps in my arms 465and died. It seems a bit of one’s life gone, when he had been in it for 13 years!—and a Boston bit too.”

“I’m feeling pretty heartbroken today because my dear old Turk just died in my arms.... He seemed fine earlier, but he got up from by the kitchen fire, walked into the scullery, and collapsed. They called me, and he took just two gasps in my arms 465 and then passed away. It feels like a part of my life is gone since he had been with me for 13 years!—and a Boston bit too.”

“Nov. 29th. 1879.... We are in great excitement here with the visit of Gladstone to Edinburgh,^[141] and his speeches. I send you two papers today, to show you how he alludes in one speech to the sympathy of women with his cause,—I have written a short letter in today’s Scotsman asking if it would not be better that they should be able legitimately to express that sympathy through the Suffrage.... How I hope and trust to see you here next year!”

“Nov. 29th, 1879.... We're really excited here about Gladstone's visit to Edinburgh,^[141] and his speeches. I'm sending you two papers today to show you how he mentions in one speech the support of women for his cause—I’ve written a short letter in today’s Scotsman asking if it wouldn’t be better for them to be able to express that support through Suffrage.... I really hope to see you here next year!”

Apparently Miss Pechey did not think Gladstone’s appreciation of women sufficiently adequate to be worth acknowledging, for a few days later S. J.-B. writes to her,

Apparently, Miss Pechey didn't think Gladstone's appreciation of women was adequate enough to acknowledge, because a few days later, S. J.-B. writes to her,

“I like Gladstone much better than you do, or I shouldn’t have written as in the Scotsman, but no doubt he is wrong about women,—his wife’s fault however, I fancy. Miss Irby went to stay with them for a day or two last year, and I know he admires her hugely,—perhaps she may be a means of grace to him.”

“I like Gladstone way more than you do, or I wouldn’t have written like I did in the Scotsman, but there’s no doubt he’s off base about women—his wife’s to blame, I think. Miss Irby visited them for a day or two last year, and I know he thinks very highly of her—maybe she could be a good influence on him.”

It was about this time that the opinions of a number of representative women were collected on the subject of the Suffrage. S. J.-B. at first declined to respond, but, on Miss Irby’s remonstrance she wrote the following lines, which are quoted here because they represent fairly the calm and decided attitude she took upon the subject throughout life:

It was around this time that the views of several leading women were gathered on the topic of Suffrage. S. J.-B. initially refused to comment, but after Miss Irby urged her to share her thoughts, she wrote the following lines. These are included here because they reflect the composed and firm perspective she maintained on the issue throughout her life:

“If I correctly understand the British Constitution, one of its fundamental principles is that Taxation and Representation should go together, and that every person taxed should have a voice in the election of those by whom taxes are imposed. If this is a wrong principle, it should be exchanged as soon as possible for some other, so that we may know what is the real basis of representation in this country; if it is a right principle, it must admit of general application, and I am unable to see that the sex of the tax-paying householder should enter into the question at all.

“If I understand the British Constitution correctly, one of its core principles is that taxation and representation should go hand in hand, and that everyone who is taxed should have a say in electing those who impose these taxes. If this principle is wrong, it should be replaced as soon as possible with another, so we can understand the true basis of representation in this country; if it is a right principle, it should apply to everyone, and I can't see why the gender of the tax-paying householder should matter at all."

The argument respecting the ‘virtual representation’ of women under the present system seems to me especially worthless, as it can be answered alternatively thus:—If women as a sex have exactly the same interests as men, their votes can do no harm, and indeed will not affect the ultimate result; if they have interests more or less divergent from men, it is obviously essential that such 466interests should be directly represented in the councils of the nation. My own belief is that in the highest sense, the interests of the two sexes are identical, and that the noblest and most enlightened men and women will always feel them to be so; and, in that case, a country must surely be most politically healthy where all phases of thought and experience find legitimate expression in the selection of its parliamentary representatives.”

The argument about the 'virtual representation' of women under the current system seems especially pointless to me, as it can be countered in two ways: If women, as a group, have the same interests as men, their votes won’t cause any harm and won’t influence the final outcome; if their interests are somewhat different from those of men, it’s clearly important that those interests are directly represented in the nation’s leadership. Personally, I believe that, at a fundamental level, the interests of both sexes are the same, and that the most noble and progressive men and women will always see them as such. In that case, a country must be politically healthy when all perspectives and experiences are genuinely represented in the choice of its parliamentary representatives.

As regards the medical education of women S. J.-B. never for one moment lost interest in the movement as a whole. If her hand was no longer on the helm, she never deserted her post on the bridge. A new Medical Bill was on the tapis at this time,—a Bill which—very rightly—made it essential that all doctors should hold a qualification in both medicine and surgery. As, however, no College of Surgeons would examine women (who nevertheless had gone through the required surgical training), this Bill would have had the result of placing women on a different and inferior footing to men as doctors, and the hard-won steps that had seemed to be cut in the solid rock would have melted away once more.

When it comes to the medical education of women, S. J.-B. never lost interest in the movement as a whole. Even if she wasn't directly in charge anymore, she never abandoned her place in the discussion. At this time, a new Medical Bill was being proposed—a Bill that rightly required all doctors to have qualifications in both medicine and surgery. However, since no College of Surgeons would examine women (who had still completed the necessary surgical training), this Bill would have meant that women would be treated differently and unfairly compared to men as doctors, causing the hard-won progress that seemed solid to crumble once again.

The General Medical Council, in its suggested amendments to the Bill, proposed to establish a special Board for the examination of women, and to admit them in the end to a separate register! It was the old “strawberry jam labels” over again. Moreover in order to conform with the requirements of this Board a woman must be in a position to assert that she had received no part of her education along with men,—a requirement that at once ruled out all the women who were enjoying the great privilege of studying at the University of Paris.

The General Medical Council, in its proposed changes to the Bill, suggested creating a special Board for examining women and eventually allowing them onto a separate register! It was like the old “strawberry jam labels” all over again. Furthermore, to meet this Board's requirements, a woman had to claim that she had received no part of her education alongside men,—a requirement that immediately excluded all the women who were fortunate enough to study at the University of Paris.

So there was small encouragement even now to relax that keen look-out on the bridge.

So there was little reason even now to ease up on that sharp watch on the bridge.

In Dr. Heron Watson, who was at that time President of the Edinburgh Royal College of Surgeons, S. J.-B. had a keen and sympathetic adviser, and with his approval she wrote to her former supporters, Mr. Stansfeld, Lord Aberdare, Lord Ripon and others, begging them to keep a watchful eye on the interests of the women. Early in the spring of 1878 she had urged Mrs. Anderson to write to two or three of the 467London daily newspapers on the subject, while she herself undertook two or three more; and on April 19th she writes again:

In Dr. Heron Watson, who was then President of the Edinburgh Royal College of Surgeons, S. J.-B. found a supportive and understanding adviser. With his backing, she reached out to her previous supporters, Mr. Stansfeld, Lord Aberdare, Lord Ripon, and others, asking them to keep an eye on women's interests. Early in the spring of 1878, she encouraged Mrs. Anderson to write to a couple of the London daily newspapers about the issue, while she took on a few more herself; and on April 19th, she wrote again:

“Dear Mrs. Anderson,—It occurs to me that it would be well for the 8 registered women to send up a distinct protest against the new Medical Bill to strengthen the hands of our friends in both Houses.

Dear Ms. Anderson,—I think it would be a good idea for the 8 registered women to send a clear message of protest against the new Medical Bill to support our allies in both Houses.

I have made a rough draft of what I should propose, and enclose a copy to you, while also forwarding one to Mr. Stansfeld. Before doing anything further I shall wait to hear what you and he think about it, and whether you have any alterations to propose.

I’ve put together a rough draft of what I want to propose and I’m sending you a copy, while also sending one to Mr. Stansfeld. Before I take any further steps, I’ll wait to hear what you and he think about it and if you have any suggestions for changes.

If the plan is adopted, can you tell me how we can get Dr. Blackwell’s signature? There is no great hurry, as the petition need not be presented for three or four weeks.

If the plan is approved, can you let me know how we can get Dr. Blackwell’s signature? There’s no rush, since the petition doesn’t need to be submitted for three or four weeks.

Yours truly,

S. Jex-Blake.”

To Mrs. Thorne she writes some months later,

To Mrs. Thorne she writes a few months later,

“I had a long talk with Dr. Watson yesterday, and he tells me the Government is likely to drop the Medical Bill for this session. I shall be rather sorry if they do.

“I had a long talk with Dr. Watson yesterday, and he told me the Government is likely to drop the Medical Bill for this session. I’ll be pretty disappointed if they do."

If they do not, I hope you will make a point of ‘keeping the run’ of every proposed amendment, and of watching very carefully how each may affect women. I should look out very sharp if I were in London, but here it is impossible to do so with sufficient efficiency and promptitude; so please don’t let anything slip. The matter is almost more important than School affairs, and even friendly M.P.’s are too busy to be trusted and often they don’t see the bearing of phrases. Mr. Stansfeld, Mr. Cowper Temple or Dr. Cameron, could any of them get papers for you, but they need reminding.”

If they don’t, I hope you’ll keep track of every proposed amendment and pay close attention to how each one might impact women. If I were in London, I’d be on high alert, but here it’s impossible to keep up with everything efficiently and quickly, so please don’t let anything fall through the cracks. This issue is almost more important than school matters, and even friendly MPs are too busy to be relied upon, and often they miss the implications of certain phrases. Mr. Stansfeld, Mr. Cowper Temple, or Dr. Cameron could get papers for you, but they need to be reminded.

Amid these manifold interests life ran its course in the early years of practice. The happiest times were those when Miss Du Pre came to stay with her friend, and it was the dream of S. J.-B.’s life that these visits might develop into constant companionship. No one who was not a doctor ever took a more sympathetic interest in medical questions than did Miss Du Pre: her advice in difficult social and professional problems was invaluable; and then there was her delightful sense of fun! “The only witty friend I ever had,” S. J.-B. 468says about this time. And, added to all was her sheer goodness and interest in the poor.

Amid all these various interests, life went on during the early years of practice. The happiest moments were when Miss Du Pre visited her friend, and S. J.-B. dreamed that these visits could turn into a permanent friendship. No one outside the medical field showed more genuine concern for medical issues than Miss Du Pre did; her advice on challenging social and professional issues was priceless, and she had a wonderful sense of humor! “The only witty friend I ever had,” S. J.-B. says about this time. On top of that, she was genuinely kind and cared about helping the less fortunate.

“32 at Dispensary,” writes S. J.-B. in her diary. “One or two so hungry and forlorn that they went to my heart. Oh, dear, if only J. [Miss Du Pre] were here to do her half of the work!

“32 at Dispensary,” writes S. J.-B. in her diary. “One or two were so hungry and sad that they really got to me. Oh, if only J. [Miss Du Pre] were here to help with her part of the work!”

No motto of mine that over the Venice monastery, ‘O solitudo, sola beatitudo!’”

No motto of mine that overlooks the Venice monastery, ‘O solitude, sole happiness!’”

It is needless to say that Miss Du Pre’s visits were as long and as frequent as the many other claims in her life made possible, and in her absence she entered as of old into every detail of her friend’s life.

It goes without saying that Miss Du Pre's visits were as long and as frequent as the many other demands in her life allowed, and when she wasn't there, she still involved herself in every detail of her friend's life as she always had.

Of course this friendship could not but take in great measure the place of the old enthusiasm for Octavia Hill, though the latter never died.

Of course, this friendship inevitably partly replaced the old enthusiasm for Octavia Hill, although that enthusiasm never truly faded.

In May 1877 someone had told S. J.-B. of the “terrible trouble” Miss Hill was in. “Oh, dear,” she cried in her diary, “I’m ashamed of the first sort of thrill of triumph that she should know how it hurts!”^[142]

In May 1877, someone informed S. J.-B. about the “terrible trouble” Miss Hill was facing. “Oh no,” she exclaimed in her diary, “I feel embarrassed about the initial thrill of triumph at knowing how much it hurts her!”^[142]

“My life is full and complete again,” she writes in April 1878, “if somewhat greyer for all the past pain; and, if I can have J., the former things may abide in shadow till the day of restitution of all things. I can’t but believe that some day, some where, I shall learn what it all meant,—even now one sees in some measure ‘why it could not be otherwise.’

“My life is full and complete again,” she writes in April 1878, “even if it’s a bit grayer from all the past pain; and if I can have J., the past can stay in the shadows until everything is made right again. I can’t help but believe that someday, somewhere, I’ll understand what it all meant—even now, I can see in some ways ‘why it couldn’t be any different.’”

It is at any rate a grand thing that, over and through all, each has kept on at her work and done yeoman service.”

It’s really amazing that, despite everything, each one has continued with her work and has done an incredible job.

“Dear L. E. S. turned the tide, gave me back the beginning of strength and life, physical and mental, and since then for the last 12 years I have stumbled steadily onwards,—gaining in strength and calm and hope,—till at length I can feel a wholesome life of my own—quite independent of the old pain,—with a very dear hand in mine, and with a grand life of work and struggle against disease before me.”

“Dear L. E. S. changed everything for me, restoring my strength and vitality, both physically and mentally. For the past 12 years, I’ve been moving forward steadily, gaining strength, peace, and hope. Now, I can feel a healthy life of my own—completely free from the old pain—with a very dear hand in mine, and a meaningful journey of work and the fight against illness ahead of me.”

On the last night of that year she writes:

On the last night of that year, she writes:

“‘Tarry thou the Lord’s leisure,’ ... ‘and He shall strengthen thy heart.’...

“‘Wait for the Lord’s timing,’ ... ‘and He will strengthen your heart.’...

I believe profoundly in the ‘that He might be able to succour’. One does learn through pain what one never learns without,—and, 469hard as it is to feel it, I suppose one knows the ‘power of ministration’—the ‘Lo, I come’ is higher and more than even the personal happiness.

I deeply believe in the idea of ‘that He might be able to support.’ You learn through pain what you can't learn otherwise, and, 469as difficult as it is to experience, I think one understands the ‘power of helping’—the ‘Lo, I come’ is greater and more important than even personal happiness.

So—take and use Thy work.

So—take and use Your work.

What is the use of talking about presenting ourselves a ‘living sacrifice,’—and then moaning over pain,—wanting to ‘freeze on a warm night’!

What’s the point of talking about being a ‘living sacrifice’—and then complaining about pain—wanting to ‘freeze on a warm night’!

Oh, dear!—one’s own littleness.

Oh no!—one's own smallness.

Well, God teach and guide us all.”

Well, may God teach and guide us all.

A few weeks later she comes to the end of the volume, and writes in a sunnier vein:

A few weeks later, she reaches the end of the book and writes in a more positive tone:

“Yet surely,—‘hitherto He has helped us’—Look at beginning of this book,—or stronger still look back some 17 years and see how the light has arisen out of darkness,—and shall it not grow and grow.

“Yet surely,—‘so far, He has helped us’—Look at the beginning of this book,—or even stronger, look back about 17 years and see how the light has emerged from darkness,—and will it not continue to grow and grow.

I fully believe ‘God is very merciful to those who suffer young’young’. How much harder the other way.

I truly believe that 'God is very merciful to those who suffer youngyoung’. How much harder it is the other way.

And much to be thankful for in health. No neuralgia,—very great return of brain power....

And there’s a lot to be grateful for when it comes to health. No nerve pain—huge boost in brain power...

Who can look forward?—who dare plan?

Who can look ahead?—who dares to plan?

Domine dirige nos!”

"Lord, guide us!"

470

CHAPTER II
LAST ILLNESS OF MRS. JEX-BLAKE

So far S. J.-B.’s success in Edinburgh had been on the whole greater than most of her friends had anticipated. The experiment could never have been made, had not Mrs. Jex-Blake agreed to spend her winters in Edinburgh. S. J.-B. was a good deal blamed by other members of the family for urging this arrangement; but it must be borne in mind that although Mrs. Jex-Blake was in fairly good general health, she was subject to sudden alarming attacks of illness which had repeatedly brought her daughter hundreds of miles in hot haste to the sick bed, regardless of the studies, or the still more important affairs she was leaving behind.

So far, S. J.-B.'s success in Edinburgh has been greater than most of her friends expected. The whole experiment wouldn’t have happened if Mrs. Jex-Blake hadn’t agreed to spend her winters in Edinburgh. S. J.-B. got a lot of blame from other family members for pushing this arrangement; however, it’s important to remember that, even though Mrs. Jex-Blake was generally in good health, she experienced sudden, alarming health issues that had repeatedly sent her daughter rushing hundreds of miles to her bedside, no matter the studies or the even more important matters she was leaving behind.

Modern methods would have grappled with the illness at its source long before the patient had reached her present age, and a radical cure might have restored her to perfect health: as it was she lay under a sword of Damocles, and was regarded as a more delicate woman than she really was.

Modern methods would have tackled the illness at its source long before the patient reached her current age, and a radical cure might have brought her back to perfect health: as it stood, she was living under a sword of Damocles and was seen as more fragile than she actually was.

It was impossible for S. J.-B. to embark on medical practice under these conditions; so the Sussex Square house was given up, and the old lady—who elected to have her own ménage—divided her time between her daughter in Edinburgh and her son at Rugby.

It was impossible for S. J.-B. to start a medical practice under these conditions; so the Sussex Square house was given up, and the old lady—who chose to have her own household—split her time between her daughter in Edinburgh and her son at Rugby.

“You have always been different to me from my other children,” she said to S. J.-B.; and, if she spoke with a consciousness of the sword in her heart, the words were mainly a tribute to her younger daughter’s untiring devotion, and remained in later days the source of comfort they were meant to be.

“You’ve always been different from my other kids,” she said to S. J.-B.; and, even if she felt the pain in her heart, her words were mostly a tribute to her younger daughter’s constant dedication, and later on, they continued to provide the comfort they were intended to give.

471Towards the end of April 1881 Mrs. Jex-Blake went south, leaving her daughter more reluctantly than usual. It was only those who knew S. J.-B. very intimately who were at all aware of the effort it sometimes cost her to get through each “day’s darg,” and to keep a bright face turned to her patients and a brave face to the world at large. She was more tired than usual at the end of that winter, and Mrs. Jex-Blake was well aware of this.

471At the end of April 1881, Mrs. Jex-Blake headed south, leaving her daughter behind more reluctantly than usual. Only those who knew S. J.-B. very closely were aware of the effort it sometimes took her to get through each "day's work" and to keep a cheerful demeanor for her patients and a strong front for the world. She was more exhausted than usual at the end of that winter, and Mrs. Jex-Blake recognized this.

The usual series of love letters passed between Mother and daughter:

The usual exchange of love letters happened between Mother and daughter:

“Eastfield,

April 30th. [1881].

Own Darling,

My Darling,

I am really well, but feel only half of myself without you. I am very good,—I sleep well, eat well—two hot dinners a day,—but, as I was very tired, keep my room, it is so much easier to be quiet there. Florence quite mothers me....

I’m doing really well, but I feel like I’m only half of myself without you. I’m really good—I sleep well, eat well—two hot dinners a day—but since I was really tired, I stay in my room because it’s so much easier to be quiet there. Florence really takes care of me...

You may be sure Dobbs is most attentive—and backs anything she advises with the

You can be sure Dobbs is very attentive—and supports anything she suggests with the

Dr.’s wishes....”

“4 Manor Place,
Edinburgh.
May 1st.

... Many thanks for your dear little letters, but you mustn’t scribble too much to anybody!—Such sweet leaves in today’s note!

... Many thanks for your lovely little letters, but you shouldn't write too much to anyone!—Such sweet notes in today's message!

Yes, my darling, I miss my dear old lady very much, but we are both going to be very good, and get quite strong for our reunion in September. I shall be very grateful to you if you keep up your ‘two hot dinners’ honestly, and all the rest of it.... It breaks my heart to find you run down as I do year after year when I come to fetch you back again.

Yes, my darling, I miss my dear old lady so much, but we are both going to take care of ourselves and get quite strong for our reunion in September. I would really appreciate it if you stick to your ‘two hot dinners’ consistently and everything else.... It breaks my heart to see you worn out like I do year after year when I come to bring you back again.

I don’t know exactly when Ursula comes, but you will hear from her.

I’m not sure when Ursula will arrive, but you’ll definitely hear from her.

Dr. M‘Laren is back,^[143] and so vexed to have missed saying ‘Goodbye’!

Dr. M‘Laren is back,^[143] and is so upset about missing the chance to say ‘Goodbye’!

Yours lovingly,

Soph.”

Towards the end of June Mrs. Jex-Blake was less well, but the doctor who attended her saw no cause for anxiety. On the 28th, however, alarming indications of the old enemy 472showed themselves suddenly, and he telegraphed to S. J.-B. to come immediately. There was one more rush south “on eagle’s wings,” but fortunately this time S. J.-B. had the companionship of Miss Du Pre, with whom she reached Rugby at 2 a.m.

Towards the end of June, Mrs. Jex-Blake wasn't feeling well, but the doctor who was looking after her didn't think there was any reason to worry. However, on the 28th, concerning signs of her old illness appeared suddenly, and he sent a telegram to S. J.-B. to come right away. There was one more hurried trip south “on eagle’s wings,” but luckily this time S. J.-B. had Miss Du Pre with her, and they arrived in Rugby at 2 a.m.

The patient had been given up by the doctor and by all, and even S. J.-B., when she saw her, thought she was dying; but she fought for the precious life with every fibre of her being, refusing to own defeat and absolutely regardless of her own health. For ten days and nights she scarcely left the room. The doctor in attendance was only too glad that she should have a free hand, and after a few days they sent for Dr. King Chambers, in whose skill S. J.-B. had almost unlimited faith. His visit proved reassuring.

The patient had been given up on by the doctor and everyone else, and even S. J.-B., when she saw her, thought she was dying; but she fought for her precious life with everything she had, refusing to accept defeat and completely ignoring her own health. For ten days and nights, she hardly left the room. The doctor in charge was more than happy to let her be, and after a few days, they called in Dr. King Chambers, whose skill S. J.-B. had almost complete faith in. His visit was reassuring.

“Her life hung so evenly on the balance when I left,” he wrote next day, “that I was obliged to acknowledge to myself that my trust in her recovery was a sanguine one. Please one line about her, and, if it is a favourable one, I shall answer it by a little advice to yourself, which you will in that case be in a condition to take.”

“Her life was so precariously balanced when I left,” he wrote the next day, “that I had to admit to myself that my hope for her recovery was overly optimistic. Just send one line about her, and if it’s a good one, I’ll reply with some advice for you, which you’ll be able to take in that case.”

On July 7th all looked well, and S. J.-B. felt the wonderful supporting power of hope, but, on the following day, there was a sudden turn for the worse, and at half past six in the evening, the patient passed quietly away.

On July 7th, everything seemed fine, and S. J.-B. felt the uplifting power of hope. But the next day, things took a sudden turn for the worse, and at 6:30 in the evening, the patient passed away peacefully.

The event is recorded in the diary by a great sheaf of blank pages, with a pathetic notice from the Times in the middle of them.

The event is noted in the diary by a large number of blank pages, with a sad notice from the Times in the center of them.

That is all, but constantly for a year, intermittently for many years, the diary recurs to the old longings and regrets, the gropings and questionings, the heart-searching and tears, that have followed every great bereavement. The reader of the preceding pages will not need to be told that S. J.-B. drank the cup to the dregs.

That’s everything, but for a whole year, and on and off for many years after, the diary keeps coming back to the old desires and regrets, the searching and questioning, the soul-searching and tears that have accompanied every major loss. Anyone who has read the earlier pages won’t need to be told that S. J.-B. experienced it all completely.

There were not a few who had lost in Mrs. Jex-Blake their dearest friend, but everyone’s first thought was of her younger daughter.

There were many who had lost their closest friend in Mrs. Jex-Blake, but everyone's first thought was of her younger daughter.

“I do hope,” writes that wise Heron Watson, “that you are not overborne by over much sorrow.”

“I really hope,” writes the insightful Heron Watson, “that you aren’t overwhelmed by too much sadness.”

473“No human being loses what I do in her,” S. J.-B. wrote to her friend, James Cordery, and this was perfectly true. No one had loved her Mother as she had; no one else had the same cause; and no one else had the same appalling capacity for suffering.

473“No one loses what I lose in her,” S. J.-B. wrote to her friend, James Cordery, and this was completely true. No one had loved her mother as she had; no one else had the same reason; and no one else had the same terrible ability to suffer.

It is interesting to note that of many beautiful letters of sympathy there is not one that strikes the reader as more truly comprehending than does Mrs. Anderson’s:

It’s worth mentioning that among all the beautiful letters of sympathy, none resonates with the reader as deeply as Mrs. Anderson’s:

“4 Upper Berkeley Street, W.

July 13th, 1881.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,

I have seen with very great regret the notice of your sorrow.

I have seen with deep sadness the news of your grief.

Knowing as I do how very close and tender was the tie between you and your Mother and also what a fine and ennobling influence she must have been to all within her range I am very full of sympathy for you. It is always very sad to break away from the past by losing one of these main links with it, but in your case there is very much to increase your sense of this. You have not (as so many others unhappily allow themselves to do) outlived the tenderness of the relationship. I hope that after a time it will be a comfort to you to remember this and to recal how happy she was in having so much affection from you.

Knowing how close and loving the bond was between you and your mother, and how positive and uplifting her influence must have been on everyone around her, I truly feel for you. It’s always heartbreaking to lose one of those key connections to the past, but in your case, this feels even more intense. You haven’t (like so many others sadly do) let go of the tenderness of that relationship. I hope that in time, it will bring you comfort to remember this and to recall how happy she was to have so much love from you.

I was very sorry to find I had written on business last Sunday at such a time.

I was really sorry to realize I had written about business last Sunday at that time.

Yours very truly,

E.G. Anderson.”

S. J.-B.’s own letters are calm and restrained, of course. To her assistant in Edinburgh she writes,

S. J.-B.’s own letters are calm and restrained, of course. To her assistant in Edinburgh, she writes,

“July 11th.

... Thanks for your kind note, and [your Mother’s] kind thoughtfulness.

... Thanks for your thoughtful note and your mother’s kindness.

But nothing would grieve me more than needlessly to part a Mother and daughter who still have each other, and I beg her to remain with you at least as arranged until the end of this month during which time I shall almost certainly remain here and try to get rested.

But nothing would upset me more than to unnecessarily separate a mother and daughter who still have each other. I ask her to stay with you at least as planned until the end of this month, during which time I'll most likely stay here and try to get some rest.

It was a hard battle,—it was bitter to fail just when we seemed winning, but I believe it was her wish to go. On Thursday I heard her murmur quietly, ‘Oh, Father, I pray Thee take me home,’—and now all is peace.

It was a tough fight—it felt terrible to lose right when we seemed to be winning, but I think it was her wish to leave. On Thursday, I heard her softly say, ‘Oh, Father, I pray You take me home,’—and now there is only peace.

Yours sincerely,

S. J.-B.”

474About the work in Edinburgh S. J.-B. had no anxiety at all. It was her way, when she trusted people, to trust them whole-heartedly, and she had absolute confidence in the assistant who had worked with her for more than a year. Well, indeed, she might, for she was extraordinarily fortunate in that gallant-hearted and faithful young helper, whose only fault seems to have been that she threw herself too completely, too conscientiously, into everything she undertook,—her chief’s work and interests, together with her own studies and laboratory experiments.^[144] S. J.-B. never realised what a responsibility her very trust was to one wholly worthy of it.

474About the work in Edinburgh, S. J.-B. felt completely at ease. When she trusted people, it was with her whole heart, and she had total confidence in the assistant who had worked with her for over a year. And rightly so, because she was incredibly lucky to have that brave and loyal young helper, whose only flaw seemed to be that she dedicated herself too completely and earnestly to everything she took on—her boss’s work and interests, along with her own studies and lab experiments.^[144] S. J.-B. never realized how much responsibility her trust placed on someone so deserving of it.

In any case the double burden on the young shoulders proved too great, and there was a sudden and tragic breakdown ending in death.

In any case, the double burden on the young shoulders became too much to handle, leading to a sudden and tragic breakdown that resulted in death.

One wonders how S. J.-B. bore the double shock. She had fancied herself “girt with the girdle of him who has nought,” when the second blow fell. She always said herself that she never could have won through but for Miss Du Pre, who simply carried her off to quiet places and tended her and brought her gradually back to the possibility of beginning again.

One wonders how S. J.-B. handled the double shock. She had imagined herself “surrounded by the emptiness of someone who has nothing,” when the second blow hit. She often said that she never could have made it without Miss Du Pre, who just took her away to peaceful spots, cared for her, and gradually helped her get back to the idea of starting over.

The practice in Edinburgh was given up for the time. There was nothing else to be done. Miss Ellaby took up the threads and finished them off as well as a stranger might; but there was no medical woman free to remain and fill the niche. It was hard on the practice.

The practice in Edinburgh was put on hold for now. There was nothing more to be done. Miss Ellaby picked up the threads and wrapped things up as best as a stranger could; but there was no female doctor available to stay and take over. It was tough on the practice.

In later years S. J.-B. met Mr. Frederick Myers, and she was induced by her impression of him to read his Human Personality and its Survival of Bodily Death, when it appeared some time later. She was deeply interested in the book, and her mind was open on the subject always; but she “tried the spirits” severely. “No human being,” she said one day in the course of an earnest talk, “could strive to come into touch with one gone before more earnestly than I tried to come into touch with my Mother. I used to lie awake at 475night concentrating every faculty on the effort. But I got no response.”

In later years, S. J.-B. met Mr. Frederick Myers, and her impression of him led her to read his Human Personality and its Survival of Bodily Death when it was published some time later. She was really interested in the book, and she always kept her mind open on the subject; however, she “tested the spirits” rigorously. “No human being,” she said one day during a serious conversation, “could try harder to connect with someone who has passed than I did to connect with my Mother. I used to lie awake at night, focusing all my energy on the effort. But I received no response.”

Her diary became her great outlet again in those dark days, in some places almost, as of old, a very cento of beautiful or poignant thoughts from the treasure-house of her memory; but that was never the side she turned to the world, though intimate friends got glimpses of it that startled them. One guessed it too from her anxiety to spare others the pain she had suffered herself.

Her diary became her main outlet once more during those tough times, at times, like before, a collection of beautiful or touching thoughts from her memory; but she never let the world see this side of her, even though close friends occasionally caught glimpses that surprised them. You could also sense it from her desire to protect others from the pain she had gone through herself.

“Don’t you ever go through the farce, dear, of thinking you haven’t been good to me,” she said to a friend years after this; and, although throughout life she often spoke hastily and over-sharply, she never spoke a word that might poison the night-watches for those she left behind. Coventry Patmore’s terrible poem ^[145] could never have been inspired by her.

“Don’t ever put yourself through the nonsense, dear, of thinking you haven’t been good to me,” she told a friend years later; and even though she often spoke quickly and too harshly throughout her life, she never said anything that could spoil the nights for those she left behind. Coventry Patmore’s awful poem ^[145] could never have been inspired by her.

To one of her nieces she writes:

To one of her nieces, she writes:

“Sept. 2nd, 1881.

Dear ——,

Hey ——,

I found the enclosed treasured among Grandmamma’s most valued papers, and I am sure you will like to have it back and to see how she kept and cared for it through so many years....

I found the enclosed treasure among Grandmamma’s most valued papers, and I’m sure you’ll want to have it back and see how she kept and cared for it all these years....

I think all your life it will be a pleasure to you remember how much you added to her happiness and helped to take care of her during the last few years. She always said you were ‘a little mother’ to her.

I believe that for the rest of your life, it will bring you joy to remember how much you contributed to her happiness and helped take care of her over the last few years. She always said you were like ‘a little mother’ to her.

Your affec. aunt,

S. J.-B.”

476

CHAPTER III
PATIENTS AND FRIENDS

It was hard to go back to the house in Manor Place, so full of associations, and, as soon as might be, S. J.-B. and Miss Du Pre removed to Bruntsfield Lodge, a roomy, rambling old house ^[146] with a shady, high-walled garden, standing high on the south side of Edinburgh, overlooking Bruntsfield Links. The sunny rooms and the possibility of stepping out into quiet greenness were worth a fortune to the strained nerves and over-active brain.

It was tough returning to the house on Manor Place, packed with memories, so as soon as they could, S. J.-B. and Miss Du Pre moved to Bruntsfield Lodge, a spacious, old house ^[146] with a shady, high-walled garden, perched on the south side of Edinburgh, overlooking Bruntsfield Links. The sunny rooms and the chance to step out into a peaceful green space were invaluable for their overwhelmed nerves and restless minds.

“You will be glad to hear that I am much stronger,” S. J.-B. writes to Dr. Sewall in September 1883, “and am sleeping excellently. I have just begun also to take short rides, and I do not think they tire me too much.”

“You will be glad to hear that I am much stronger,” S. J.-B. writes to Dr. Sewall in September 1883, “and I’m sleeping really well. I’ve also just started to take short rides, and I don't think they tire me out too much.”

Here then she began the life of comparative seclusion and active beneficence which was to last for sixteen years. The keynote of her existence was sharing, taking others with her, and the joy of sharing this comfortable house and garden was very great.

Here she began a life of relative solitude and active kindness that would last for sixteen years. The essence of her life was sharing, bringing others along with her, and the joy of sharing this cozy house and garden was immense.

Miss Du Pre’s absence is the occasion for some playful letters written quite in a patriarchal spirit:

Miss Du Pre's absence leads to a series of lighthearted letters written in a somewhat patriarchal tone:

“August 25th. [1883.]

... I have had an addition to my family as well as Mrs. B.,—though it isn’t yet in the Times first column,—viz. a delightfully comic small dog, white with one black eye, whom I have christened Toby, and whom I bought from the Home for Lost Dogs for the large sum of 2s. 6d. The police take stray dogs there, and if no one 477claims them, or buys them, they are killed; so this little fellow has escaped by the skin of his teeth, in virtue of his supposed excellences in the cat-chasing line!^[147] Has cottoned up to me most amusingly—followed me about all day, and whined at the door when shut out....

... I have welcomed a new addition to my family, just like Mrs. B.,—though it hasn't made it to the front page of the Times yet,—a wonderfully funny little dog, white with one black eye, whom I’ve named Toby, and whom I adopted from the Home for Lost Dogs for the hefty price of 2s. 6d. The police bring stray dogs there, and if no one claims them or buys them, they end up being put down; so this little guy narrowly escaped that fate, thanks to his supposed skills in chasing cats!^[147] He has taken to me in the most amusing way—followed me around all day and whined at the door when he was shut out....

The two boys are delighted, of course,—especially A., who declares Mr. Toby to be the moral of a dog for whom his late master ‘wouldn’t take £100.’ Nice profit wouldn’t it be if I clear £99. 17s. 6d.!

The two boys are really happy, of course,—especially A., who says Mr. Toby is the best dog ever, to the point that his former owner ‘wouldn’t take £100’ for him. It would be quite a nice profit if I made £99. 17s. 6d.!

Lest the household should be too full, I have sent off a member,—viz., White Angel, to grass for a week at Currie,—H. being so overjoyed at being let ride him out that cook declared he ‘couldn’t eat his lunch‘! He walked back (6 miles) in 1¾ hr., not bad, was it?

To avoid the house getting too crowded, I’ve sent someone away—specifically, White Angel, to spend a week at Currie. H. was so thrilled to take him out that the cook said he ‘couldn’t eat his lunch’! He walked back (6 miles) in 1¾ hours, not bad, right?

Miss A. is coming tonight,—Mrs. J. went this afternoon. By the bye on Thursday she asked me to ‘see Baby for a minute,’ and I found the child white and out of sorts, rather feverish, etc., and overjoyed Mrs. J. by prescribing ‘a little Bruntsfield’. So she has been out here for 2 days, tumbling in the hay and delighting Ann’s heart. She is so fond of children.

Miss A. is coming tonight—Mrs. J. went this afternoon. By the way, on Thursday she asked me to ‘see Baby for a minute,’ and I found the child pale and not feeling well, a bit feverish, etc., and made Mrs. J. very happy by suggesting ‘a little Bruntsfield’. So she has been out here for 2 days, playing in the hay and bringing joy to Ann’s heart. She really loves kids.

I also sent Mrs. S. off to Brackenrigg yesterday, as I decided she did want a change before beginning a winter’s work. The fare was 17s. 4d., and I gave her the rest of £4, which will pay everything for 10 days, with 5s. or 6s. to spare. I haven’t heard from her yet, but I am sure she will be in the seventh heaven.

I also sent Mrs. S. off to Brackenrigg yesterday because I thought she needed a change before starting her winter work. The fare was 17s. 4d., and I gave her the remaining £4, which will cover everything for 10 days, with 5s. or 6s. left over. I haven’t heard from her yet, but I’m sure she’s thrilled.

Probably she will see Miss Anthony there,—she went the previous day....

Probably she'll see Miss Anthony there; she went the day before.

I think it was very good of you to ask for the Baring votes!...”

I think it was really good of you to ask for the Baring votes!...”

“Sept. 4th.

... Mrs. S. lunched here today, and says she feels infinitely better for the change,—things no longer worry her in the same way. She tells me that the red-room gentleman was back,^[148]—and that being confined to bed one day, he evidently heard Miss Anthony haranguing on Women’s Rights in the next room,—and Mrs. W. told them that he had asked ‘when those two ladies were going,—for he heard enough to know they were men-haters, and he was a woman hater!”

... Mrs. S. had lunch here today and says she feels so much better with the change—things don’t bother her the same way anymore. She mentioned that the guy from the red room was back,^[148]—and that while he was stuck in bed one day, he obviously overheard Miss Anthony giving a speech about Women’s Rights in the next room,—and Mrs. W. told them that he had asked ‘when those two ladies were leaving—because he heard enough to know they were man-haters, and he was a woman hater!’”

“Sept. 9th.

I’ve had another addition to my family,—not a permanent one this time! A. J. was very anxious not to catch scarlet fever so as to be thrown back for his examinations, etc., and so I have taken him in for a few days, and given him ——’s room upstairs. (Do 478you think W. is in any danger?) He seems a very nice lad, but by no means strong. He is so very pleased with the quiet,—he says he can sleep so much better. Now a lad of his age ought to be able to sleep in any row!”

I’ve got another addition to my family—not a permanent one this time! A. J. was really worried about catching scarlet fever and getting held back in his exams and everything, so I’ve taken him in for a few days and given him ——’s room upstairs. (Do 478 you think W. is in any danger?) He seems like a really nice kid, but he’s definitely not strong. He’s so happy with the quiet—he says he can sleep so much better now. You’d think a kid his age could sleep through anything!”

“Sept. 13th.

... The grapes are getting on famously, some will be ripe within a week I think, but they will be rather small this year.”

... The grapes are doing really well; I think some will be ripe in about a week, but they’ll be pretty small this year.

“Sept. 23rd.

You needn’t have asked so meekly for ‘2 or 3 grapes’. We have cut none yet, but when they first began to colour, the most forward bunch was dubbed ‘Miss Du Pre’s,’—and for the last 10 days the household might be seen every morning with upturned chins gazing to see ‘if Miss Du Pre’s bunch is ready’,—H. going up the ladder and hanging in all sorts of odd positions to look at it all round.

You didn't need to ask so softly for '2 or 3 grapes.' We haven't picked any yet, but when they first started to change color, the most promising bunch was called 'Miss Du Pre's,'—and for the past 10 days, the household has been seen every morning with their heads tilted up, looking to see 'if Miss Du Pre's bunch is ready,'—H. climbing up the ladder and hanging in all sorts of awkward positions to check it from every angle.

The combined wisdom has decided to cut it tomorrow—in spite of a red berry or two which won’t get right,—so probably you will get it on Wednesday morning by P.P. Be sure to tell me how it travels.”

The group has decided to cut it tomorrow—even though there are a few red berries that won't be ripe—so you'll probably receive it on Wednesday morning through P.P. Make sure to let me know how it goes.

The first few months in the new house were a time of comparative leisure, and S. J.-B.’s friends received letters less telegraphic in their succinctness than they afterwards tended to become. The following is to Mrs. Brander, who (when Miss Isobel Bain) had accompanied S. J.-B. to America:

The first few months in the new house were pretty relaxed, and S. J.-B.’s friends got letters that weren’t as brief and to the point as they later became. The following is to Mrs. Brander, who (when she was Miss Isobel Bain) had traveled with S. J.-B. to America:

“Sept. 26th. [1883.]

Dearest Bel,

Dear Bel,

I wish you could peep in and see my new house now that it is fairly in order. I think the quiet and airiness will be of very great value to me. I have felt much better since I came here....

I wish you could take a look at my new house now that it's mostly organized. I think the peace and openness will really benefit me. I've been feeling much better since I got here....

You have so often wished for good medical women in India that you must now be pleased to have your wish granted. I don’t know if you know Mrs. Scharlieb who is just entering on practice at Madras, but, if you don’t, I wish you would go and call on her, and give my card. I do not know her personally, but I have corresponded with her, and respect her much for the gallant way in which she got her education, first at Madras and then coming to England to perfect herself. She passed the very difficult examinations of the University of London (M.B. and B.S.) with great distinction, and won the gold medal in Obstetrics from the whole University....

You have often hoped for good female doctors in India, so you must be happy that your wish has come true. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Mrs. Scharlieb, who is just starting her practice in Madras, but if you’re not, I’d like you to visit her and give her my card. I don’t know her personally, but I’ve corresponded with her and have a lot of respect for her impressive journey in education, first in Madras and then coming to England to further her training. She successfully passed the very challenging exams of the University of London (M.B. and B.S.) with high marks and earned the gold medal in Obstetrics from the entire University...

Have you heard also that Dr. Edith Pechey is going to settle at Bombay? She has been invited to do so by a committee of native gentlemen, who guarantee her an income and find her a hospital....

Have you also heard that Dr. Edith Pechey is moving to Bombay? She’s been invited by a committee of local gentlemen, who are guaranteeing her an income and securing her a hospital....

I am very sorry to lose her from England, but very glad to have so admirable a representative in India. She always wins golden 479opinions and does such excellent work. I do hope the Government will do something for her. I have just written to Lord Ripon about her.

I’m really sorry to see her leave England, but I’m happy to have such an amazing representative in India. She consistently earns high praise and does outstanding work. I really hope the Government will do something for her. I just wrote to Lord Ripon about her.

You know I suppose that Mr. Fawcett has appointed a medical woman (Miss Shove) as medical officer to the women post office clerks, with £350 a year. It is an immense step in public opinion.

You know, I think Mr. Fawcett has appointed a female doctor (Miss Shove) as the medical officer for the women’s post office clerks, with a salary of £350 a year. This is a huge advancement in public opinion.

I am getting on very well here, but I begin to feel I am getting old. My hair is so grey!...

I’m doing really well here, but I’m starting to feel old. My hair is so gray!...

Dear old Mrs. Brander came to see me the other day, looking as nice as ever, ... I think I care more and more for old people’s happiness as compared to young, though the world is hard enough for them too sometimes,—and hardest of all I sometimes think for the middle-aged folks who have outlived the spring and energy of youth and not reached the calm of age. How much pain one sees in the world!

Dear old Mrs. Brander came to see me the other day, looking as lovely as ever. I find that I care more and more about the happiness of older people compared to younger ones, even though the world can be tough for them too at times—and I often think it's hardest for middle-aged folks who have outlasted the spring and energy of youth but haven't yet reached the calm of old age. There’s so much pain one sees in the world!

I hope your life is getting easier and happier every year, dear child. Tell me all about yourself some day....

I hope your life gets easier and happier every year, dear child. Share all about yourself with me someday...

Yours affectionately,

S. J.-B.”

She was planning a new edition of her book, Medical Women, at this time, and she wrote to Mr. Osler to ask for statistics as to the percentage of women, as compared with men, who had so far passed the examinations of the University of London. In reply to his information she writes:

She was planning a new edition of her book, Medical Women, at this time, and she wrote to Mr. Osler to ask for statistics about the percentage of women, compared to men, who had so far passed the examinations of the University of London. In response to his information, she wrote:

“Feb. 3rd. 1884.

Dear Mr. Osler,

I can hardly express strongly enough how grateful I am both to you and to Mr. Milman, for the very valuable tables of numbers sent me....

I can’t emphasize enough how grateful I am to both you and Mr. Milman for the incredibly useful data tables you sent me.

Please do not doubt for a moment that I quite agree with you that it is unfair to compare ‘picked women’ (i.e. really in earnest) and ‘unpicked men’. I have said so repeatedly. But you must remember that a very few years ago I had a very hard fight to get it admitted as a possibility that some women might do as good work as men. In ‘Visits to American Schools’ (published 1867) I wrote with at least sufficient diffidence,—‘Whether most women would be capable of the amount of study required, for instance, for one of our University degrees, I really do not know,’ etc. My one contention has been all along,—‘Give a fair field and try’—and no one can exaggerate the gratitude that all women ought to feel to the University of London for giving that field.

Please don't doubt for a second that I completely agree with you that it's unfair to compare 'picked women' (i.e., genuinely committed) and 'unpicked men.' I've stated this many times. But you need to remember that just a few years ago, I had a tough battle just to get it recognized as a possibility that some women might be capable of doing work as well as men. In 'Visits to American Schools' (published 1867), I wrote with at least some humility, 'Whether most women would be capable of the amount of study required, for example, for one of our University degrees, I really do not know,' and so on. My main point has always been, 'Give a fair chance and try'—and no one can overstate the gratitude that all women should feel toward the University of London for offering that chance.

At the same time, while quite conceding that ‘percentages’ need correction by certain considerations on the men’s side,—youth, 480want of choice, etc.,—you must not forget that women are quite as much weighted in other ways,—e.g. by the greater reluctance of parents to spend money on their education, and the more inconsiderate claims made on their time, etc., at home, inferior early teaching, etc., so that after all one set of difficulties go far to balance another.

At the same time, while it's clear that 'percentages' need to be adjusted by certain factors on the men's side—like youth, lack of options, etc.—you shouldn't forget that women face just as many challenges in other ways—for example, the greater hesitation of parents to invest in their education, the more unreasonable demands on their time at home, inadequate early education, etc. Therefore, one set of difficulties largely balances out the other.

From a medical point of view my chief anxiety now is how women are going to stand the strain; I am very much afraid of seeing the movement discredited by the breakdown in health of girls who begin too young, or with inadequate physical stamina, or who try to ‘burn the candle at both ends’ by combining society or home duties with serious study.

From a medical perspective, my biggest concern right now is how women will handle the pressure. I’m really worried about the movement being discredited because of the health issues that girls might face if they start too young, lack the physical strength, or attempt to "burn the candle at both ends" by juggling social activities or home responsibilities with serious studying.

However, I must not trespass longer on your time and kind patience, and with repeated thanks, I remain,

However, I shouldn’t take up any more of your time and patience, and with many thanks, I remain,

Yours very gratefully,

S. Jex-Blake.”

This subject of the education of girls had been brought prominently before her mind by the breakdown of a rarely gifted young friend. S. J.-B. had some great talks on the subject with Miss Buss and others, and she wrote to various papers about the danger of over-pressure. “The headmistresses have a difficult problem before them,” she says, “but it has got to be faced.”

This topic of girls' education had come to her attention due to the struggles of a uniquely talented young friend. S. J.-B. had some significant discussions about it with Miss Buss and others, and she wrote to several publications about the risks of excessive pressure. “The headteachers have a tough challenge ahead of them,” she says, “but it needs to be addressed.”

As a matter of fact the problem was destined to be solved abundantly in due course by the development of games and physical culture generally,—all that side of life for the lack of which she herself had suffered so terribly.

In reality, the problem was bound to be resolved significantly over time by the growth of games and physical activity in general—all aspects of life that she had missed out on so painfully.

She was specially interested, of course, in the daughters of her old friends, and, of these, Hermione Unwin and Katie Ballantyne held a special place in her regard. To the former she writes:

She was particularly interested, of course, in the daughters of her old friends, and among them, Hermione Unwin and Katie Ballantyne had a special place in her heart. To the former, she writes:

“July 29th. 1884.

My dear Hermie,

My dear Hermie

Thank you for sending me your examination papers. I am very glad that you passed so successfully. What now interests me most is to know to what use all this work is to be turned, for after all knowledge is noblest when it becomes an instrument of work beyond itself. Have you any tastes or wishes, or any thought of any special kind of work?

Thank you for sending me your exam papers. I'm really glad you passed so successfully. What interests me most now is to know how you plan to use all this work, because knowledge is at its best when it serves a purpose beyond itself. Do you have any interests or aspirations, or thoughts about any particular type of work?

I daresay that after all this study the best thing you can do is to rest on your oars for six months or a year, but during that time I hope you will be thinking in what way you can turn yourself to 481best account. There is so much that needs doing in the world, and it is such a privilege to help in the doing of it. I hope you will write and tell me when you have any definite thoughts on the subject.

I truly believe that after all this studying, the best thing you can do is take a break for six months to a year. During that time, I hope you’ll think about how you can best apply yourself. There’s so much that needs to be done in the world, and it’s a privilege to be part of it. I hope you’ll write and let me know when you have any solid ideas on the topic.

I have already had my holiday for this year, having spent June in driving about (with the white pony) in the Perthshire highlands with my friend, Miss Du Pre. I think there is hardly any kind of holiday that rests one so much. You should persuade your Father to take you all in a waggonette, a long drive into Scotland or to the English Lakes. If you should decide on Scotland, I should hope to find this house used as a stopping-place. I think I could take you all in pretty comfortably.

I’ve already had my vacation this year, spending June driving around (with the white pony) in the Perthshire Highlands with my friend, Miss Du Pre. I can’t think of a better kind of holiday that helps you relax. You should convince your dad to take you all on a wagon ride, a long trip into Scotland or to the English Lakes. If you choose Scotland, I hope this house can be used as a stopover. I think I could accommodate all of you pretty comfortably.

Remember me very kindly to Mr. Unwin, and believe me

Remember me warmly to Mr. Unwin, and know that I am

Yours very truly,

S. Jex-Blake.”

Here is an interesting letter to an old friend whose husband’s distinguished career separated her for the time from a dearly-loved daughter:

Here is an interesting letter to an old friend whose husband’s impressive career kept her away from her beloved daughter for a while:

“I much enjoyed seeing her for the flying visit which was all she vouchsafed me, and I am delighted to see how very much she is improved,—very much more healthy in mind and body all round....

“I really enjoyed seeing her during the brief visit she gave me, and I am delighted to see how much she has improved—much healthier in mind and body overall....

She amused me much by plunging headlong into some theological difficulties,—which reminded me of how she (aged 6!) used to harass you about the Trinity. Her great trouble seems to be that she can’t feel sure the world is governed by a beneficent and omnipotent God,—she thinks there is so much pain in it which wouldn’t be allowed unless God either didn’t wish to help it, or couldn’t help it. That has never been my difficulty,—I have always had such a devout belief in the possible blessing of pain,—

She entertained me a lot by diving headfirst into some theological challenges, which reminded me of how she (at 6!) used to bug you about the Trinity. Her main concern seems to be that she can't be sure the world is run by a caring and all-powerful God—she thinks there's so much suffering in it that wouldn't exist unless God either didn't want to help or couldn't help. That's never been a struggle for me—I’ve always had such a strong belief in the potential goodness that can come from pain—

‘Because all noblest things are born

In agony.’

Do you remember Miss Cobbe’s hymn?

Do you remember Miss Cobbe's song?

However she asked me if I felt sure the world was governed, etc., and I said frankly that I hadn’t absolutely made up my mind,—that it seemed to me we had very small means of being ‘sure’ of anything,—but that I thought, if there was a Ruler both good and all powerful, it was at least perfectly conceivable that He might allow all the pain, etc., partly because the very theory of free will involved possibilities of evil with its consequences which not even Omnipotence could avert, and partly because He might see that pain was at any given moment the very best thing for the person who suffered it.

However, she asked me if I was sure that the world was governed, etc., and I honestly replied that I hadn’t completely made up my mind—that it seemed to me we had very limited ways of being ‘sure’ of anything—but that I thought, if there was a Ruler who was both good and all-powerful, it was at least reasonable to believe that He might allow all the pain, etc., partly because the very idea of free will included the possibility of evil and its consequences which not even Omnipotence could prevent, and partly because He might see that pain was, at any given moment, the very best thing for the person experiencing it.

Then she went off to,—Did I think it possible that any Being could follow out the lives of millions of creatures at once, etc.,—to 482which I said that certainly I couldn’t conceive how it should be possible; but neither could I conceive many other things that yet we knew to be scientific truths,—e.g. that our whole earth could be swallowed up in one of the ‘spots’ of the sun, and not fill up the spot, and that that very sun is only a unit in a myriad of worlds whose immensities simply reduce us to silence.

Then she went on to wonder—Did I think it possible for any Being to keep track of the lives of millions of creatures at once? I replied that I certainly couldn’t understand how that could be possible; but there were many other things I couldn’t comprehend that we still accepted as scientific truths—for example, that our entire earth could fit into one of the ‘spots’ on the sun without even filling it, and that the sun itself is just one among countless worlds, whose vastness leaves us speechless.

However I didn’t mean to inflict a réchauffé of all this upon you, though I think you will like to know how the child’s mind is working. Let it work!—being in a wholesome atmosphere of love and labour, she will learn all sorts of practical replies to theoretical difficulties, and come to no harm.”

However, I didn’t intend to burden you with all of this, though I think you’ll appreciate knowing how the child’s mind is developing. Let her think!—being surrounded by a healthy atmosphere of love and hard work, she’ll come up with all kinds of practical answers to theoretical challenges, and she won't be harmed.

Interesting, as bearing on the above, is another letter written to someone else about the same time:

Interesting, in connection with the above, is another letter written to someone else around the same time:

“It is a double principle with me never to bring forward theological questions, and never to seek to change the opinions of anyone who is satisfied with his or her own; and on the other hand to be always ready to say exactly what I think myself about any given point to any intelligent person who cares to ask me the question, and to say frankly where I feel that I know nothing. I do not think anyone can possibly be more conscious than I of the immense vastness and difficulty of questions that the general public answer glibly offhand, and of my own utter incompetency to decide in the abstract ‘what is truth’. Practically I think one is generally able to see one’s own duty day by day, and probably Browning is right—

“It’s a firm rule for me never to bring up theological questions and never to try to change anyone’s mind if they’re happy with their own beliefs. At the same time, I’m always ready to share exactly what I think about any topic with any thoughtful person who wants to ask me, and I’ll honestly admit when I don’t know something. I don’t think anyone is more aware than I am of the vastness and complexity of questions that the general public answers easily and of my own complete inability to determine ‘what is truth’ in an abstract sense. Practically, I believe one can usually see their own duties from day to day, and Browning is probably right—”

‘... more is not reserved
To man, with soul just nerved
To act tomorrow what he learns today.’

Beyond that, I suppose that all that any of us can do is to be very chary of either asserting or denying, but to strive to keep our whole souls open to every ray of light we can get, and hope some day to learn everything that it is needful for us to know. Personally I am always getting to feel that opinions matter less and less, and motives and feelings more and more.

Beyond that, I think all any of us can do is to be careful about making claims or dismissing things, and to try to keep our minds open to every bit of understanding we can gather, hoping that one day we'll learn everything we need to know. Personally, I'm increasingly feeling that opinions matter less and less, while motives and feelings matter more and more.

Excuse this long dissertation and believe me,

Excuse this long explanation and trust me,

Yours sincerely,

S. Jex-Blake.”

In December 1885 she writes to Miss Du Pre:

In December 1885, she writes to Miss Du Pre:

“Yes, we shall miss poor old X. sadly. It does seem pathetic, doesn’t it?—and yet don’t you think it is something to be taken away just when you have attained your highest ambition?... The first thing I thought,—as it almost always is,—was, I wonder what he thinks now that he ‘knows what Rhamses knows’. It 483always does strike me so very curiously when someone who has never, I suppose, thought half as much as I about the mysteries of life and death, goes in in front of me,—if there is any ‘going in’. I thought it so very strongly about Vanderbilt. How will he get on where everything isn’t reckoned as on the Stock Exchange?”

“Yes, we’re really going to miss poor old X. It’s sad, isn’t it?—and yet don’t you think it’s kind of tragic to be taken away just when you finally reach your biggest goal?… The first thing that crossed my mind—like it usually does—was, I wonder what he thinks now that he ‘knows what Rhamses knows’. It 483always strikes me as so curious when someone who I assume has never thought as deeply about the mysteries of life and death as I have, goes ahead of me—if that’s even a thing. I thought about this a lot in regard to Vanderbilt. How will he manage in a place where nothing is evaluated like it is on the Stock Exchange?”

Although the new house was certainly not in a central position, S. J.-B.’s practice steadily grew. As the first woman doctor in Scotland, she had, as she had told Sir Thomas Barlow, numerous cases that had long gone untreated, and she was the recipient of many a pent-up confidence. The Edinburgh that criticized her would have been surprised if it had known some of the secrets that lay, so safely, in her keeping. She was often called upon to be a Mother Confessor, and, although she always declared that “one profession is enough for one person,” her practice was by no means so rigid in this respect as was her theory. Many strange problems were discussed in that quiet consulting-room, with its book-lined walls and green spaces outside. To the end of life her impulsiveness led her into mistakes for which she had to suffer, but her advice to others was extraordinarily sane and good. Yet the idealist in her never slept. “I took Colani from the shelf,” she says on one occasion, “and read, ‘Cast thyself down,—for the devil can suggest; compel can he never.’”

Although the new house was definitely not in a central location, S. J.-B.’s practice steadily grew. As the first woman doctor in Scotland, she had, as she mentioned to Sir Thomas Barlow, numerous cases that had gone untreated for a long time, and she received a lot of unspoken trust. Edinburgh, which criticized her, would have been shocked if it had known some of the secrets she kept so well. She was often asked to be a Mother Confessor, and even though she always claimed that “one profession is enough for one person,” her practice was not nearly as strict about this as her theory. Many unusual problems were discussed in that quiet consulting room, with its book-lined walls and green spaces outside. Throughout her life, her impulsiveness led her to make mistakes for which she had to pay the price, but her advice to others was remarkably sensible and sound. Still, the idealist in her never rested. “I took Colani from the shelf,” she says on one occasion, “and read, ‘Cast thyself down,—for the devil can suggest; compel can he never.’”

She was often asked, too, to take a resident patient who wished to have her own suite of rooms and sometimes her own attendant. More than one of these patients became personal friends.

She was often asked to take in a resident patient who wanted her own suite of rooms and sometimes her own caregiver. More than one of these patients became personal friends.

She of course received high fees for cases of this kind, but she often had resident patients who paid no fees at all. Some governess who could not get well in dreary lodgings would be simply wrapped up in blankets and carried off in the brougham—or was it on a comet’s tail?—a messenger having been sent up to the house,—“Have blue room ready in half-an-hour. Am bringing patient.”^[149]

She certainly got paid a lot for cases like this, but she often had patients living there who didn’t pay anything. Some governess who couldn’t recover in dull lodgings would be wrapped up in blankets and taken away in the carriage—or was it on a comet’s tail?—after a messenger had been sent to the house, “Get the blue room ready in half an hour. I’m bringing a patient.”^[149]

“I wonder,” writes a patient at this time, “if you have any idea how pleasant it is to be lifted on somebody’s shoulders and carried 484away from the shadows of your own life into the brightness of theirs. No I do not think you can have; you do not seem to have dwelt in the shadows.”

“I wonder,” writes a patient at this time, “if you have any idea how nice it is to be lifted onto someone’s shoulders and carried away from the shadows of your own life into the brightness of theirs. No, I don’t think you can have; you don’t seem to have lived in the shadows.”

And another writes,

And another says,

“I know you will believe me when I say that I have rarely, if ever, been so supremely happy as during the past few weeks. The feeling of peace and comfort was so delicious, and I only wish I could prove myself just a little worthy of all I have enjoyed.”

“I know you will believe me when I say that I have rarely, if ever, been so incredibly happy as I have been over the past few weeks. The feeling of peace and comfort was so wonderful, and I just wish I could prove myself a little worthy of all I have enjoyed.”

We have seen how on one occasion she took in a lad who could not afford to risk incurring the infection of scarlet fever. On another occasion, when visiting a patient, she was asked to see a boy of ten, who had unluckily fallen ill while paying a short visit to the house. His hostess did not understand boys, and he was having an uncomfortable time. His plight roused all the boy—and there was plenty of it—in S. J.-B. She carried him off, mothered him, took him for drives when she could, got him well, and apparently made him happy. At all events, when the time came to say Goodbye, he flung his arms round her neck and kissed her!

We saw how once she took in a kid who couldn’t risk getting scarlet fever. Another time, while visiting a patient, she was asked to check on a ten-year-old boy who had unfortunately fallen sick while on a short visit. His hostess didn’t really get boys, and he was having a tough time. His situation stirred up all the boyish energy in S. J.-B. She took him under her wing, cared for him, drove him around when she could, helped him get better, and seemed to make him happy. In any case, when it was time to say goodbye, he threw his arms around her neck and kissed her!

There are some men who are born with an instinctive knowledge of the right thing to do in unusual circumstances.

There are some men who are born with an instinctive understanding of what to do in unusual situations.

Most useful was the comet’s tail in cases where some overworked brain was on the point of a breakdown, where a worry was developing into an idée fixe, and threatening to drive the patient mad. S. J.-B. would carry the patient off, regardless of possible developments more disconcerting even than an outbreak of scarlet fever in her house, tend her, feed her up, make her sleep, sympathize with her, bully her, laugh at her, till the patient was ready to fall into line and laugh at herself. Some of these “cures” were extraordinarily rapid and complete, and there is no record of a single failure.

Most helpful was the comet’s tail in situations where an exhausted mind was on the verge of a breakdown, where a worry was turning into an fixed idea, threatening to drive the person crazy. S. J.-B. would take the person away, no matter how troubling the circumstances might be—even worse than an outbreak of scarlet fever in her home—take care of her, feed her, help her sleep, show sympathy, push her, laugh with her, until she was ready to join in and laugh at herself. Some of these “cures” were remarkably quick and complete, and there are no records of a single failure.

from a photograph by M. G. T. Emery Walker ph.sc.
Sophia Jex-Blake

from a photograph by M. G. T. Emery Walker ph.sc.
Sophia Jex-Blake

She never heard of any over-weighted woman or child without asking herself whether she could lift the burden.

She never heard of any overweight woman or child without wondering if she could lift the load.

“Dear Carry,”—she writes to her sister about this time—“... I don’t like the idea of our teacher looking ‘pale and anxious’,—do you know if she has any special troubles?—or is likely to be 485short of money? Has she relations with whom she spends her holidays? or is she at Bettws now?—When do the holidays begin and end? What pay has she now?—Has it been raised lately?—What is her name and nation?

“Dear Carry,”—she writes to her sister around this time—“... I don’t like the thought of our teacher looking ‘pale and anxious’. Do you know if she has any personal issues? Or is she likely to be 485short on money? Does she have family with whom she spends her holidays? Or is she at Bettws right now? When do the holidays start and end? What’s her current salary? Has it gone up recently? What’s her name and where is she from?

A sad number of questions, but very short replies will suffice.

A few sad questions, but very brief answers will do.

Your aff. sister,

S. J.-B.”

It was partly because she had so many guests of this kind that she made it an absolute rule that none of her servants were to receive gratuities from visitors,—a rule that some of the visitors disliked extremely, and even refused to submit to. Such cases sometimes led to an amusing breeze of correspondence of which the following is a sample:

It was partly because she had so many guests like this that she made it a strict rule that none of her staff were allowed to accept tips from visitors—a rule that some of the guests really disliked and even refused to follow. These situations sometimes resulted in a funny exchange of letters, of which the following is an example:

“Sir,

“Mr.,

Well acquainted as I am with your many and great iniquities, I confess that I did not expect you wantonly to abuse our humble hospitality by deliberately inciting our household to rebellion against constituted authority as distinctly announced to you by written warning on the mantel-piece.^[150] Manifold as are the notorious vices of the Conservative mind, I had supposed it to have some slight reverence for law, national or domestic. In future I shall know better.

As well as I know your many and serious wrongdoings, I admit that I did not expect you to recklessly misuse our humble hospitality by intentionally encouraging our household to rebel against the established authority, as clearly stated in the written warning on the mantelpiece.^[150] While the Conservative mindset is known for its many vices, I had thought it showed at least a little respect for the law, whether national or domestic. From now on, I will understand better.

Sir, the humble but incorruptible member of my household whose integrity you sought to corrupt, begs me to re-inclose to you the accompanying lucre (2s. 6d.), of whose history you so falsely pretended yourself ignorant, and as I see no reason why I should be impoverished in consequence of your evil doings, I request you to repay me on your return from the continent the commission charged by H.M. Government (viz. ½d.) upon the enclosed remittance.

Sir, the modest but honest member of my household, whose integrity you tried to compromise, asks me to return to you the enclosed amount (2s. 6d.), about which you falsely claimed to be unaware. Since I see no reason for me to suffer financially because of your wrongdoing, I request that you reimburse me for the commission charged by H.M. Government (specifically ½d.) on the included remittance when you return from the continent.

I am Sir,
Yours more in sorrow than in anger,
S. J.-B.”

The postal order was indignantly returned, with a request to do what she liked with it, so she at once sent it to the London Society for Women’s Suffrage, directing the secretary to forward the receipt to her refractory Conservative guest!

The postal order was angrily sent back, with a request for her to do whatever she wanted with it, so she immediately sent it to the London Society for Women’s Suffrage, asking the secretary to send the receipt to her stubborn Conservative guest!

Notwithstanding this, and other differences of opinion, he paid many more visits to her house, and for the future contrived usually, at least, to elude her vigilance.

Despite this and other differing opinions, he visited her house many more times and generally found a way to evade her watchfulness.

486She used to consult him in all sorts of legal difficulties, and he replied with unfailing patience.

486She used to ask him for help with all kinds of legal issues, and he always responded with endless patience.

“Dear James,”—she wrote on one occasion,—“I want to make a codicil, leaving some money to ..., the income to her for life,—the capital between her daughters. Will you please tell me the simplest words in which I can do this?”

“Hey James,”—she wrote on one occasion,—“I want to create a codicil, leaving some money to ..., the income for her for life,—the principal to be shared among her daughters. Can you please tell me the simplest way to phrase this?”

In sending a rough draft, he inserted the words,—“if only one such daughter.”

In sending a rough draft, he included the words, “if only one such daughter.”

“Of course I can put in ‘if only one such daughter,’ if you like,” she replied, “but at present there are seven!”

“Sure, I can say ‘if only one such daughter,’ if that’s what you want,” she replied, “but right now there are seven!”

The initial mistake, of course, was hers, and it was a kind of mistake that was very unusual with her.

The first mistake, of course, was hers, and it was a type of mistake that was very unusual for her.

Her correspondence was very large,—so large that she never had time to write a “proper letter about ‘Shakespeare and the musical glasses’,” as she would have said. To her most intimate friends she wrote with spontaneous charm,—letters circumstantial, tender, nonsensical, as the case might be. “Do you ever write any letters that would look well in your memoir?” asks Miss Du Pre. “I begin to be anxious about that book. It seems to me that it will be so fearfully dull,—unless your diaries ... prove to be amusing.”

Her correspondence was massive—so massive that she never had time to write a “proper letter about ‘Shakespeare and the musical glasses’,” as she would have said. To her closest friends, she wrote with effortless charm—letters that were detailed, heartfelt, or silly, depending on the situation. “Do you ever write any letters that would look good in your memoir?” asks Miss Du Pre. “I’m starting to worry about that book. It feels like it’s going to be really boring—unless your diaries ... turn out to be entertaining.”

On the other hand, strangers consulted her about manifold schemes and perplexities, and she always asked herself how she could help.

On the other hand, strangers sought her advice on various plans and problems, and she would always think about how she could assist them.

“Dear Madam,” wrote one of these, “As you sit alone in the evening with the curtains drawn, imagine that a woman steals into your room, hunted to death by men. I am that woman....”

“Dear Madam,” wrote one of these, “As you sit alone in the evening with the curtains drawn, imagine that a woman sneaks into your room, hunted to death by men. I am that woman....”

Even this sensational beginning did not put S. J.-B. off, and it was weeks before she allowed herself to be persuaded—by Dr. Pechey and Miss Du Pre—that the case was one for Dr. Clouston rather than for her.

Even this flashy start didn't discourage S. J.-B., and it took weeks before she let herself be convinced—by Dr. Pechey and Miss Du Pre—that the situation was better suited for Dr. Clouston instead of her.

But it was in her Dispensary, with working women and girls, that one saw her, perhaps, at her best. She was so vital, so sympathetic, yet so full of humour and common sense that the regular provident patients were devoted to her. They knew there was nothing to be gained by arguing. 487“Well, I must just take my scolding,” they would say resignedly. So keenly did she sympathize with their difficulty in following out her directions in their own homes that in 1885 she added a few beds to the Dispensary, and thus formed the nucleus of the Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children, which has since grown to great things and has been honoured by a visit from the Queen.

But it was in her Dispensary, surrounded by working women and girls, that she truly shone. She was so lively, so compassionate, yet also filled with humor and common sense that the regular patients were deeply loyal to her. They understood that arguing would get them nowhere. 487 “Well, I guess I just have to take my scolding,” they would say with acceptance. She empathized so deeply with their struggles to follow her advice at home that in 1885, she added a few beds to the Dispensary, which became the foundation of the Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children—a facility that has since flourished and received a visit from the Queen.

Where the case was serious, and the remedy lay in the husband’s hands, S. J.-B. always took the bull by the horns. “Ask him to come and have a little talk with me,” she would say breezily. “Tell him I can see him at such and such hours.” And he would come!

Where the situation was serious, and the solution depended on the husband, S. J.-B. always tackled it head-on. “Ask him to come and have a little chat with me,” she would say casually. “Tell him I can meet him at this time and that time.” And he would come!

She was admirably fitted for work of this kind. No woman was ever more strictly fair. An injured husband was no less—and no more—sure of her sympathy than was an injured wife.

She was perfectly suited for this kind of work. No woman was ever more consistently fair. An injured husband was no more—and no less—certain of her sympathy than an injured wife.

And, of course, it was the old and feeble who at once found the radiant side of her.

And, of course, it was the elderly and frail who instantly saw her bright side.

“The thanks and blessings of old J. G.—85—bring a rush of tears,—‘Ah, somebody be good to my old lady!’

“The thanks and blessings of old J. G.—85—bring a rush of tears,—‘Ah, someone be good to my old lady!’”

And yet I suppose she may be ‘old’ no longer, but young and strong and bright, and sorry for my weakness and weariness,—

And yet I guess she might not be ‘old’ anymore, but young and strong and vibrant, and feeling sorry for my weakness and exhaustion,—

‘waits on the hills of Paradise

For her children’s coming feet.’”

She seldom rose quite above this sense of effort and weariness, though few would have guessed it. “I always get so much good from being with you,” writes Lady Jenkinson,—“body and soul—especially soul.... I wish you would ’fess when you feel downcast.”

She rarely felt anything other than this sense of struggle and fatigue, though most wouldn’t have realized it. “I always gain so much from being with you,” writes Lady Jenkinson, —“body and soul—especially soul.... I wish you would admit when you’re feeling low.”

In her inmost circle, of course, she did ’fess, pretty often. “Not strong enough for the place, John,” she used often to quote whimsically from Punch. And here is an interesting bit of heresy in a letter to Dr. Sewall—

In her inner circle, of course, she would admit it pretty often. “Not strong enough for the job, John,” she often quoted whimsically from Punch. And here’s an interesting piece of heresy in a letter to Dr. Sewall—

“I don’t at all agree by the bye with your theory that ‘there is nothing like work for producing real happiness.’ I don’t find that it has even any tendency to produce it, though of course one must work if one is able. ‘Otherwise she drops at once below the dignity of man,’—so says Aurora Leigh.

“I completely disagree, by the way, with your idea that ‘there is nothing like work for producing real happiness.’ I don’t think it even has the slightest tendency to create it, although of course one must work if one is able. ‘Otherwise she drops at once below the dignity of man,’—as Aurora Leigh puts it.

To quote Mrs. Browning again,—‘What’s the best thing in the world?—Something out of it I think.’”

To quote Mrs. Browning again, “What’s the best thing in the world?—Something out of it I think.”

488The reader will not need to be told that the poetry of her nature had not been crushed out by that long fight. Far from it. All through the strenuous days she had been supported by the very poems she had repeated by the fireside in Sussex Square, but the store had grown till her repertory must have been nearly unique. To many passages from the Psalms and Isaiah, George Herbert, Trench, Alford and others, she had added a harvest from Whittier, Emerson, Lowell and divers less known American poets. She loved her Tennyson and Browning too—Abt Vogler and Rabbi Ben Ezra—but indeed the “poetry book-case” included a very catholic range, from Macaulay’s Lays to Swinburne and Christina Rossetti, with a corner for Jean Ingelow and for Mrs. Hamilton King. We have seen the store she set in her youth on some of Sadie’s Poems. No one who has ever heard it will forget how the “pathetic voice” would repeat:

488The reader won’t need to be told that her natural poetry hadn’t been beaten down by that long struggle. Not at all. Throughout those challenging days, she had been uplifted by the very poems she had recited by the fireside in Sussex Square, and her collection had grown to the point where her repertoire must have been quite unique. Along with many passages from the Psalms and Isaiah, George Herbert, Trench, Alford, and others, she had added a wealth of lines from Whittier, Emerson, Lowell, and various lesser-known American poets. She adored her Tennyson and Browning too—Abt Vogler and Rabbi Ben Ezra—but truly the “poetry bookcase” featured a very diverse selection, from Macaulay’s Lays to Swinburne and Christina Rossetti, with a special spot for Jean Ingelow and Mrs. Hamilton King. We have seen the value she placed on some of Sadie’s Poems in her youth. No one who has ever heard it will forget how that “pathetic voice” would echo:

“Is it so, O Christ in Heaven, that the highest suffer most?
That the strongest wander farthest, and more hopelessly are lost?
That the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain,
And the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain?—
‘I have many things to tell you, but ye cannot bear them now.‘”

or again,

or once more,

“No, no, by all the martyrs, and the dear dead Christ;
By the long bright roll of those whom joy enticed
With her myriad blandishments, but could not win.
Who would fight for victory, but would not sin.

By these our elder brothers who have gone before,
And have left their trail of light upon our shore.
We can see the glory of a seeming shame,
We can feel the fulness of an empty name.”

It was recitations like this that formed the nucleus of the “incomparable evenings in the Doctor’s Study” to which Dr. Lillie Saville referred (see pp. 390-1, footnote). When life was not too exacting—and sometimes when it was—such evenings were very frequent, and they were a great refreshment after the burden and heat of the day.

It was recitations like this that made up the core of the “incomparable evenings in the Doctor’s Study” that Dr. Lillie Saville talked about (see pp. 390-1, footnote). When life wasn't too demanding—and even sometimes when it was—those evenings happened quite often, and they were a great way to unwind after the weight and heat of the day.

She derived much relaxation, too, from the best of the unceasing current that flows through the circulating libraries. 489Her brief criticisms of books are often interesting. She was disappointed in George Eliot’s Life, because the long series of letters was not sufficiently welded together by narrative. Of the Carlyles she agreed with Mrs. Oliphant that “there was a great deal of love on both sides,—with very raw nerves.” Of two books she confessed to Miss Du Pre that she “sobbed over them like a baby,”—one was Laetus Sorte Mea, the other The Little Pilgrim in the Unseen.

She found a lot of relaxation in the endless flow of books from the circulating libraries. 489Her quick reviews of books are often interesting. She was let down by George Eliot’s Life, because the long series of letters didn’t connect well enough with the story. Regarding the Carlyles, she agreed with Mrs. Oliphant that “there was a lot of love on both sides,—with very raw nerves.” She admitted to Miss Du Pre that she “sobbed over them like a baby” for two books—one was Laetus Sorte Mea, and the other was The Little Pilgrim in the Unseen.

490

CHAPTER IV
PUBLIC LIFE

It is not to be supposed that the “cataracts and breaks” were a thing of the past. There were many who found S. J.-B. a delightful person to work with, but even they had no difficulty in seeing how it was that others had a different experience.

It shouldn't be assumed that the "cataracts and breaks" were a thing of the past. Many found S. J.-B. a wonderful person to work with, but even they had no trouble understanding why others had a different experience.

“But the Doctor is nearly always right,” said one of her assistants in later years, “when she differs from other people.” And this was perfectly true. She was nearly always right; but the few times she was wrong were sufficient in many quarters to give the dog the proverbial “bad name.”

“But the Doctor is almost always correct,” said one of her assistants in later years, “when she disagrees with other people.” And this was completely true. She was almost always correct; but the few times she was wrong were enough in many circles to give her the proverbial “bad reputation.”

Moreover, one must frankly admit that her rightness was often too uncompromising, too business-like, too far in advance of what other people could be expected to agree with, too inconsiderate of ordinary human frailty. “You treat other people like pawns,” Miss Du Pre used to tell her, but, although she quoted the remark, she never seemed really to grasp it.

Moreover, one has to honestly acknowledge that her correctness was often too rigid, too focused on business, too ahead of what others could realistically agree with, and too oblivious to common human weaknesses. “You treat other people like pawns,” Miss Du Pre would tell her, but even though she repeated the comment, she never truly seemed to understand it.

During the first few years of her life at Bruntsfield Lodge she took a great interest in local women’s questions. She was a moving spirit in the organization of one or two large suffrage meetings, and in the laborious propagandism and canvassing involved in the election of women as poor law guardians. Evidence of the thoroughness of her work persists to this day; but it was not always appreciated by the Edinburgh ladies who coöperated with her. They thought her so big and masterful that nobody else got a chance. It was just as well that her own special work absorbed her more and more. In 1884 she had written for Macmillan (at the instigation of her friend Mrs. S. R. Gardiner) a useful little 491book on The Care of Infants, which was warmly received by the profession and by a considerable public, and she was steadily taking notes for a second edition of her Medical Women, which should bring the narrative down to the date of publication.

During the first few years of her life at Bruntsfield Lodge, she became very involved in local women's issues. She played a key role in organizing one or two large suffrage meetings and in the hard work of campaigning and canvassing for the election of women as poor law guardians. Evidence of her thorough efforts remains to this day; however, it wasn't always appreciated by the Edinburgh women who worked with her. They felt she was so dominant and controlling that no one else got a chance to contribute. It was probably for the best that her own specific work consumed more and more of her time. In 1884, she wrote a helpful little book on Infant Care for Macmillan (at the urging of her friend Mrs. S. R. Gardiner), which was well-received by professionals and a significant audience. She was actively taking notes for a second edition of her Medical Women, which would update the narrative to the time of publication.

Public affairs, too, demanded their share of interest. That weary Medical Bill kept cropping up at intervals, and S. J.-B. was often appealed to privately by members of parliament and others for information and advice. They were well aware, of course, that her main interest was to safeguard the rights and privileges of women, but they also knew something of her mental acumen and thoroughness of method. Moreover, she was unconnected with any of the great vested interests which constituted the great stumbling block in the way of any Bill. There is a telegram extant addressed to her by the President of the Edinburgh College of Physicians who had gone up to London to watch the debate,—“Please wire Mr. Stansfeld to be sure to be here in time to secure dropping of bill proposed.”

Public affairs also needed their share of attention. That exhausting Medical Bill kept coming up repeatedly, and S. J.-B. was often approached privately by MPs and others for information and advice. They were well aware that her primary focus was to protect the rights and privileges of women, but they also recognized her sharp mind and thorough approach. Furthermore, she was not tied to any of the major vested interests that posed significant obstacles to any bill. There is a telegram still in existence addressed to her by the President of the Edinburgh College of Physicians, who had gone to London to follow the debate: “Please wire Mr. Stansfeld to be sure to be here in time to secure the dropping of the proposed bill.”

Towards the end of 1884, the Edinburgh Extra-Mural School made an effort towards incorporation, and memorialized the Privy Council to grant them a Charter. S. J.-B. was anxious to take advantage of this opportunity to raise again the question of the admission of women to medical education in Scotland, especially as, by this time, the various missionary bodies were quite alive to the importance of the subject.

Towards the end of 1884, the Edinburgh Extra-Mural School made a move to become incorporated and asked the Privy Council to give them a Charter. S. J.-B. was eager to seize this chance to bring up the issue of allowing women to pursue medical education in Scotland once more, especially since various missionary organizations were becoming increasingly aware of how important the topic was.

“The Free Church are also willing to move,” she writes to Mr. Stansfeld on November 20th, “and they wish to memorialize the Privy Council direct, and to request that any Charter granted may not exclude women, but make it at least optional for the College to admit them. To my intense amusement the request has just come to me that I will ‘draft’ such a memorial, but I have not the remotest idea how even to address the Privy Council!”

“The Free Church is also willing to take action,” she writes to Mr. Stansfeld on November 20th, “and they want to formally ask the Privy Council directly, requesting that any Charter granted may not exclude women, but at least allow the College the option to admit them. To my great amusement, I’ve just received a request for me to ‘draft’ such a memorial, but I have no idea how to even address the Privy Council!”

It was not only the Free Church that asked her help. The lecturers, mindful of her power of enlisting the sympathy of statesmen in the past, also begged her to use her influence in high quarters, and, through the National Association, to present a petition to the Privy Council. Mr. Stansfeld was 492helpful as ever, advising her to interview Lord Carlingford, from whom she had a gracious reception. “But the primary condition must be,” she writes to Dr. Littlejohn, “that the Charter distinctly commits the College to the admission of women on equal terms. If this is not approved, the whole thing falls to the ground.”

It wasn’t just the Free Church that sought her help. The lecturers, aware of her ability to gain the support of politicians in the past, also asked her to use her influence in high places and, through the National Association, to present a petition to the Privy Council. Mr. Stansfeld was as supportive as ever, recommending that she meet with Lord Carlingford, who welcomed her warmly. “But the main requirement must be,” she wrote to Dr. Littlejohn, “that the Charter clearly commits the College to admitting women on equal terms. If this isn’t accepted, the entire effort is pointless.”

The reader of the foregoing chapters might not unnaturally be prepared to hear that the College was duly incorporated, and that the women were left in the lurch; but it was the unexpected that happened. The effort of the Extra-Mural School to achieve incorporation failed, but the examining bodies for which the School existed, the Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, decided a few months later to admit women. We may reasonably suppose that the renewed discussion of the whole question had not been in vain, but, so far as S. J.-B. was concerned, it was a case of the seed cast into the ground, which springs and grows up “he knoweth not how.” On March 17th, 1885, she writes to Dr. Pechey:

The reader of the previous chapters might naturally expect to hear that the College was officially incorporated and that the women were left hanging; however, the unexpected occurred. The Extra-Mural School's attempt to get incorporated failed, but the examining bodies it was meant to serve, the Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, decided a few months later to start admitting women. We can reasonably assume that the renewed discussion on the entire issue wasn’t in vain, but as far as S. J.-B. was concerned, it was like a seed planted in the ground, which grows and develops "he knows not how." On March 17th, 1885, she writes to Dr. Pechey:

“Meanwhile I have two splendid pieces of news to send you, if they have not yet reached you,—viz. (1) The Irish College of Surgeons has not only opened all its examinations, and even its fellowships, to women, but also all the classes in its School,—making separate arrangements for Practical Anatomy only. (2) More wonderful still, the Scottish Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons of Edinburgh and Glasgow (now combined to give one ‘Triple Qualification’) have decided without a division to throw open all their examinations to women. I am exceedingly surprised, for though I heard an application had been made, I thought there was little hope of success, and took no trouble about it. However, so it is, and I hope to have classes opened in the Extra-Mural School (and perhaps in connection with St. Andrews) next winter. Somebody has left St. Andrews (subject to a life interest) a legacy of £50,000 on condition of admitting women. So you see all round ‘Pigs is looking up.’

“Meanwhile, I have two great pieces of news to share with you, if you haven't heard them yet—first, the Irish College of Surgeons has opened all its exams and even its fellowships to women, and all the classes in its School, only making separate arrangements for Practical Anatomy. Second, even more impressively, the Scottish Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons of Edinburgh and Glasgow (now combined to provide one ‘Triple Qualification’) have decided without any disagreement to open all their examinations to women. I'm really surprised because, while I heard an application had been made, I didn’t think there was much hope for success and didn’t pay it much attention. But here we are, and I hope to have classes available in the Extra-Mural School (and maybe in connection with St. Andrews) next winter. Someone has left St. Andrews (with a life interest) a legacy of £50,000 on the condition that women are admitted. So, you see, things are definitely looking up.”

Mrs. Russel was here for a few days a fortnight ago, and is as nice as ever.”

Mrs. Russel was here for a few days two weeks ago, and she’s just as lovely as always.

This great advance gave a fresh impetus and point to the publication of Medical Women,^[151] which was duly achieved a 493few months later. It called forth a great sheaf of congratulatory letters from those who remembered the old days.

This major progress provided new motivation and relevance for the publication of Medical Women,^[151] which was successfully completed a 493few months later. It received a large number of congratulatory letters from those who recalled the earlier days.

“Of course,” wrote Dr. King Chambers, “future generations will think it necessary to season your arguments with the traditionary grain of salt; but the facts are so clearly and calmly stated that they will be accepted absolutely. As to the character of the movement itself, the future must give it.”

“Of course,” wrote Dr. King Chambers, “future generations will feel the need to take your arguments with a grain of salt, but the facts are presented so clearly and calmly that they will be accepted completely. As for the nature of the movement itself, only time will reveal that.”

“I am glad I was always a steady, if humble, adherent to the side of justice before its cause was popular,” wrote Professor Charteris. “I hope that you will long and increasingly enjoy the position that you had such a hard fight to win. You got all the buffets for many a day.”

“I’m glad I was always a loyal, even if modest, supporter of justice before it became popular,” wrote Professor Charteris. “I hope you continue to enjoy the position you worked so hard to achieve. You faced a lot of challenges for many days.”

And Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell:

“I am sorry that we have lost you from London. We much need that combination of unselfish activity and wise combination of practical qualities which we find in no other of the leaders of the movement.”

“I’m sorry that you’re no longer in London. We really need that mix of selfless effort and smart practical skills that we can’t find in any other leaders of the movement.”

“What a change,” says Dr. Heron Watson, “has come over the spirit of the Medical Corporation since the story of your efforts in the cause first appeared.”

And this—finally—is from a generous letter from the Revd. William Pechey:

And this—finally—is from a kind letter from Rev. William Pechey:

“If Edith is entitled to the praise of having borne, as you say, ‘an excellent part’ in the movement you narrate, she would, I am sure, be the first to join me in saying that you alone can fairly say: ‘Quorum maxima pars fui.’”

“If Edith deserves credit for playing, as you mentioned, ‘an excellent part’ in the movement you describe, I'm sure she would be the first to agree with me that only you can truly claim: ‘I was part of the majority.’”

But the mention of Dr. Pechey’s name reminds one of a delightful letter she forwarded from her little friend Rukhmabai (now Dr. Rukhmabai) who, needless to say, was not one of those who remembered the old days.

But mentioning Dr. Pechey’s name brings to mind a lovely letter she shared from her young friend Rukhmabai (now Dr. Rukhmabai), who, of course, was not someone who recalled the old days.

“Girgaum,

“23rd June, 1886.

My dear Miss Pechey,

My dear Miss Pechey

I herewith return ... one of your books (The Roman Singer), with many thanks. I looked it all over just enough to know the purport of the story, which I found contains nothing but mere love matters.

I’m returning ... one of your books (The Roman Singer), with many thanks. I glanced through it enough to understand the gist of the story, which I found to be all about love issues.

I shall return the other book (Medical Women) in a few days. It is so very interesting to me that I don’t like to drop a single word of it while reading. It gives me a great comfort as I see the truth won the victory at last, though you had to suffer so much even in 494a country like Europe. I would never have believed if some common person were to tell me, that the people there were so against to allow women to study medicine....

I’ll return the other book (Medical Women) in a few days. It’s so fascinating to me that I don’t want to miss a single word while reading. It brings me great comfort to see that the truth has finally won, even though you had to endure so much in a place like Europe. I would never have believed it if an ordinary person had told me that people there were so resistant to allowing women to study medicine....

Yours affectionately,

Rukhmabai.”

S. J.-B. was interested too at this time in the development of a volume for the publication of which she had been responsible in the first instance,—that most useful gazetteer, The Englishwoman’s Year Book,—the success of which has unhappily never been comparable to its merits: and she continued to advise and help the first editor, her friend, Miss Louisa Hubbard.

S. J.-B. was also interested at this time in the development of a volume that she had originally been responsible for— that very useful gazetteer, The Englishwoman’s Year Book— the success of which unfortunately has never matched its quality: and she continued to advise and assist the first editor, her friend, Miss Louisa Hubbard.

In 1886 she was asked to deliver one of a series of Health Lectures in Edinburgh, and of course she consented gladly,—her special lecture being addressed to women only. The lectures were free, and the lecturers unpaid.

In 1886, she was invited to give one of a series of Health Lectures in Edinburgh, and naturally, she happily agreed—her specific lecture was meant for women only. The lectures were free, and the speakers were not paid.

When arrangements were far advanced, she found that the Committee proposed to charge one shilling for admittance to her lecture, and she promptly rebelled. She wanted all her Dispensary patients and all their friends to come and hear what she had to say, and the charge seemed to her to do away with more than half the good of her lecture. It was represented to her that a charge was also to be made for the corresponding lecture to men only, but she did not consider the cases identical. In any case the men’s lecture was no affair of her’s.

When plans were almost finalized, she discovered that the Committee suggested charging one shilling for entry to her lecture, and she immediately pushed back. She wanted all her Dispensary patients and their friends to attend and hear her speak, and the fee felt like it would eliminate more than half the benefit of her lecture. It was pointed out to her that a fee would also be applied for the men's lecture, but she didn't see the situations as the same. In any case, the men's lecture was not her concern.

Mrs. Trayner (afterwards Lady Trayner) was an important person on that committee, and she and Lord Trayner had a great respect and cordial regard for S. J.-B. They understood her, and they wanted other people to understand her too. They were most anxious that she should waive her objection to the shilling charge, partly and especially because she was coöperating in the matter of the Health Lectures with men doctors, and they—the Trayners—wanted her to show herself gracious and conciliatory.

Mrs. Trayner (later Lady Trayner) was a key member of that committee, and she and Lord Trayner had a lot of respect and warm feelings for S. J.-B. They understood her and wanted others to understand her as well. They were very eager for her to drop her objection to the shilling fee, especially since she was collaborating on the Health Lectures with male doctors, and the Trayners wanted her to appear gracious and accommodating.

S. J.-B.’s reply to Mrs. Trayner’s letter is characteristic of her attitude at that time:

S. J.-B.’s response to Mrs. Trayner’s letter reflects her mindset during that period:

“Pray thank Lord Trayner warmly for his kind interest in me and the medical women generally. I think, however, that he 495somewhat over-estimates the importance of what the men doctors may think one way or the other. You and he will remember that all that we have gained has been gained in the teeth of nearly all of them, and if they have failed to hinder me hitherto, they are certainly powerless to hurt me now.... I am willing enough to shake hands with them if they wish it, but you must remember that it is I and not they who have the old sores to forgive....

“Please thank Lord Trayner sincerely for his kind interest in me and in women in medicine overall. However, I think he somewhat overestimates how much the opinions of male doctors really matter. You and he will recall that everything we have achieved has been accomplished despite nearly all of them, and if they haven't been able to stop me up to this point, they certainly can’t harm me now.... I'm more than happy to shake hands with them if they want to, but keep in mind that it's me, not them, who has the past wounds to let go of....

I am sure you will understand that I say this merely because I want you to understand that my position is probably one of the most independent in Edinburgh,—I want nothing from anybody and I fear nothing from anybody. I mean to do in this, and larger matters, what seems to me right, to the best of my lights, and I have long ago learned while doing so to leave consequences to take care of themselves.

I’m sure you’ll get that I’m saying this just to make it clear that my position is probably one of the most independent in Edinburgh—I don’t want anything from anyone, and I’m not afraid of anyone. I plan to do what I think is right, both in this situation and in bigger matters, to the best of my ability, and I learned long ago to let the consequences sort themselves out.

With hearty thanks for your kindness, believe me,

With sincere thanks for your kindness, trust me,

Yours very truly,

S. Jex-Blake.

Pray excuse this hasty line, written at the end of a long day’s work.”

Please forgive this quick note, written at the end of a long day’s work.

If this seems written in an ungracious and reprehensible spirit, the reader must bear in mind the fire the writer had come through. And after all what is it but a somewhat pagan rendering of St. Paul’s “From henceforth let no man trouble me....”

If this comes off as unkind and blameworthy, the reader should remember the challenges the writer has faced. And ultimately, isn’t it just a bit of a pagan interpretation of St. Paul’s “From now on, let no one bother me....”

In any case the Trayners were not of the kind to take offence. Their interest in S. J.-B. and her work remained unbroken. Lady Trayner visited the Dispensary more than once and took on as a regular pensioner a brave old patient with a disfigured face, who appealed to her sympathies more than most.

In any case, the Trayners weren’t the type to be offended. Their interest in S. J.-B. and her work stayed strong. Lady Trayner visited the Dispensary several times and brought on a regular pensioner, a brave old patient with a disfigured face, who touched her more than most.

The lecture was free, and proved a great success.

The lecture was free and turned out to be a huge success.

“You will like to know,” writes S. J.-B. to Miss Irby, “that my lecture went off very well, the hall (which holds nearly 2000) was crammed to the doors and stairways, and I lectured from slight notes, much better, Ursula says, than if I had read a lecture.

“You’ll be happy to know,” writes S. J.-B. to Miss Irby, “that my lecture went really well, the hall (which seats almost 2000) was packed to the doors and stairways, and I spoke from brief notes, much better, Ursula says, than if I had just read my lecture.”

I have already had 4 new patients in consequence.”

I’ve already had 4 new patients as a result.

It now remained for women to avail themselves de facto of their admission de jure to the Royal Colleges. “I trust,” wrote S. J.-B. in a letter to the Times, announcing the fresh step gained, “I trust that classes will now within a few 496months be re-opened in Edinburgh. With a view to definite arrangements for the ensuing winter session, I shall be very glad to receive the names of any ladies desiring to study in Scotland.” A few days later she wrote to the secretary of the Extra-Mural School, who happened to be an old ally.

It was now up to women to take advantage in practice of their official admission by law to the Royal Colleges. “I hope,” wrote S. J.-B. in a letter to the Times, announcing this new achievement, “I hope that classes will now be re-opened in Edinburgh within a few 496 months. To make definite plans for the upcoming winter session, I would be very happy to receive the names of any women interested in studying in Scotland.” A few days later, she wrote to the secretary of the Extra-Mural School, who happened to be an old ally.

“Bruntsfield Lodge,

March 17. [1886].

Dear Dr. Macadam,

Dear Dr. Macadam

I have already had nearly a dozen letters from ladies wishing to study Medicine in Scotland, so it is clear that the demand is real and considerable.

I’ve already received nearly a dozen letters from women wanting to study Medicine in Scotland, so it’s clear that the demand is genuine and significant.

Can you give me any printed statement about the classes, etc., in the Extra Mural School?... Of course I know that if separate classes were required much greater expense must be involved, but I sincerely hope that most of the lecturers may be willing to admit women in the ordinary way. If so, I believe that a considerable number would join the classes next winter. If you would kindly let me have a list of the Lecturers, and would tell me when the next meeting is to be, I might (if you thought it desirable) see some of them before the meeting. I wish very much that the matter could be favourably decided next month, as this would give us time to make arrangements, and get up a good class, etc.

Can you provide me with any printed information about the classes, etc., at the Extra Mural School? I understand that if separate classes are needed, it will involve significantly higher costs, but I genuinely hope that most of the lecturers will be willing to accept women in the usual way. If that’s the case, I believe a substantial number would enroll in the classes next winter. If you could send me a list of the lecturers and let me know when the next meeting is scheduled, I could (if you think it’s a good idea) meet some of them before the meeting. I really hope this matter can be resolved positively next month, as that would give us time to organize and promote a good class, etc.

Would it not be well for you before the meeting to get an official letter from the Registrar of the Irish College of Surgeons stating that women are admitted to all the ordinary classes (except Practical Anatomy) at Dublin?

Wouldn’t it be a good idea for you to get an official letter from the Registrar of the Irish College of Surgeons before the meeting, stating that women can join all the regular classes (except Practical Anatomy) in Dublin?

To turn to another subject,—can you tell me the chemical nature of the fluid contained in “Fire-Extinguishing Grenades,” etc. Are they really reliable?

To switch topics, can you let me know what the chemical composition of the fluid in “Fire-Extinguishing Grenades,” etc. is? Are they actually dependable?

Yours very truly,

S. Jex-Blake.”

It is clear from this that she had not the smallest intention nor wish to found a separate School of Medicine for Women; but her hopes as regarded the lecturers were doomed to disappointment. On the whole they showed themselves enlightened and helpful, but they declined to admit women to their ordinary classes.

It’s clear from this that she had no intention or desire to establish a separate School of Medicine for Women; however, her hopes regarding the lecturers were destined to be disappointed. Overall, they appeared to be open-minded and supportive, but they refused to allow women into their regular classes.

They were quite willing—some of them—to lecture to women separately, but one could not expect first-rate men in rising practice to devote an hour or more of precious time daily without more adequate remuneration than the fees of 497the first handful of women students were likely to represent. There must, of course, be a sufficient guarantee to make the undertaking worth their while, and the students were assuredly not in a position to provide that guarantee; so S. J.-B. made herself responsible for it at once.

They were quite willing—some of them—to give lectures to women separately, but you couldn't expect top-notch men in growing practices to spend an hour or more of their valuable time every day without better pay than what the first few women students could offer. There had to be a solid guarantee to make the effort worthwhile, and the students clearly weren't in a position to provide that guarantee; so S. J.-B. took responsibility for it right away.

For the first year the women attended separate lectures at one of the men’s schools, but it soon became obvious that separate premises, in which students could study and dissect, and change their dress, and generally make themselves at home, were, if not absolutely necessary, at least highly desirable.

For the first year, the women attended separate lectures at one of the men's schools, but it quickly became clear that having separate facilities where students could study, dissect, change their clothes, and generally feel at home was, while not absolutely essential, definitely highly desirable.

Now it happened that, in the days of the old struggle, in a moment perhaps when hope ran high, S. J.-B., Miss Louisa Stevenson and Miss Du Pre had bought the famous old premises in Surgeon Square, which had been a medical school for generations. Here Robert Knox had lectured to his students, and the place had thrilling and sinister associations with Burke and Hare. When all hope of education in Edinburgh seemed finally blighted, these premises had been let to various tenants, but S. J.-B. had never lost sight of the possibility that they might some day be used again for their original purpose.

Now, it happened that during the old struggle, at a time when hope was perhaps high, S. J.-B., Miss Louisa Stevenson, and Miss Du Pre purchased the well-known old building in Surgeon Square, which had served as a medical school for generations. This was where Robert Knox had lectured his students, and the place was filled with thrilling yet dark associations with Burke and Hare. When all hope for education in Edinburgh seemed completely dashed, these premises were rented out to various tenants, but S. J.-B. never lost sight of the chance that they could someday be used again for their original purpose.

So now the old place was repaired and cleaned and painted and heated,—under the personal supervision of S. J.-B. and one or two friends, at small cost as regards money, but with lavish expenditure of brains and good will.

So now the old place was fixed up, cleaned, painted, and heated—under the personal supervision of S. J.-B. and a couple of friends, at a low financial cost, but with a lot of brainpower and goodwill.

It was necessary, too, that hospital instruction should be provided, and to this end, S. J.-B. approached the authorities at Leith.

It was also important to provide hospital training, so S. J.-B. reached out to the authorities in Leith.

“The very large number of students at the Edinburgh Infirmary,” she wrote to Dr. Struthers, “make it almost impossible that women should there get opportunities of study, and (as there is no other suitable hospital of sufficient size in Edinburgh) I am anxious to ascertain whether the Directors of the Leith Hospital would entertain the idea of admitting them to opportunities of clinical study in their wards.

“The large number of students at the Edinburgh Infirmary,” she wrote to Dr. Struthers, “makes it nearly impossible for women to have study opportunities there, and (since there isn't another suitable hospital of adequate size in Edinburgh) I am eager to find out if the Directors of the Leith Hospital would consider allowing them access to clinical study opportunities in their wards.

If so, I should be glad to make any arrangement as to fees that may be desired by the Directors; or if they preferred it would at once guarantee fees to the amount of 200 guineas yearly.”

If that's the case, I'd be happy to set up any fee arrangements the Directors want; or, if they prefer, I can immediately guarantee fees of 200 guineas per year.

498Her application was warmly supported by Mr. R. Somerville, and others of the Directors, and after a long series of letters and interviews, the negotiation was completed.

498Her application received strong backing from Mr. R. Somerville and other Directors, and after a lengthy exchange of letters and meetings, the deal was finalized.

“Every night I am quite as tired as is safe,” she wrote to Miss Irby, who had begged for a postcard, “and yet every day I have to omit half a dozen things that cry out to be done. However I do not mean to break down again, so I simply do what I can and leave the rest.”

“Every night I’m as tired as is safe,” she wrote to Miss Irby, who had asked for a postcard, “and yet every day I have to skip half a dozen things that urgently need to be done. However, I do not intend to break down again, so I just do what I can and leave the rest.”

Little by little the School became more of a corporate thing. A resident secretary was necessary, of course, so S. J.-B. hit on a likely person ^[152] and trained her. Caretakers (man and wife) were found to look after the premises. A library was provided, and, as soon as might be, anatomical and Materia Medica museums. No one who has not lived through the founding of a medical school can form the faintest idea how much it means. S. J.-B. had been over the ground before, and may be supposed to have realized what she was undertaking.

Little by little, the School became more like a business. A resident secretary was needed, so S. J.-B. found a suitable person ^[152] and trained her. A married couple was brought in to take care of the building. A library was established, and as soon as possible, anatomical and Materia Medica museums would be set up. No one who hasn't experienced the founding of a medical school can truly understand how significant it is. S. J.-B. had been through this before and likely understood what she was getting into.

She had Dr. Balfour’s help from the first, and a tower of strength he proved: by degrees a committee was formed: but from first to last the responsibility rested to all intents and purposes on her shoulders.

She had Dr. Balfour’s support from the beginning, and he was a huge help: gradually, a committee was put together; but from start to finish, the responsibility was essentially on her shoulders.

The position, too, on which the whole thing rested was curious. The School was not recognized as such. Each lecturer was recognized individually. At any moment any lecturer in the Extra-Mural School was free to open a rival class and cut the ground from under S. J.-B.’s feet.

The situation the whole thing depended on was interesting. The School wasn't officially recognized. Each lecturer was acknowledged separately. At any time, any lecturer in the Extra-Mural School could start a competing class and undermine S. J.-B.’s position.

The new venture, moreover, had all the disadvantages inherent in a new creation. It had no senior students, none even, at first, who had gone through the wholesome discipline of the modern High School: it had no tradition. By the sheer necessities of the case, S. J.-B. was compelled to be senior student,—to be tradition.

The new venture also had all the downsides that come with starting something new. There were no upperclassmen, not even at first, who had experienced the valuable training of a modern High School: it lacked a tradition. Because of this situation, S. J.-B. had to take on the role of the senior student— to become the tradition.

For ten or more years the School did excellent work, but the instability of its foundation proved too great. Whether the “lion-hearted”^[153] pioneer, with her extraordinary bent 499for arranging detail, could in any case have made a success of the venture, under such difficult conditions, when the heroic days of initiation were over, it is impossible to say. The reader will not need to be told—S. J.-B.’s bitterest opponent never denied—that she put into the venture infinitely more labour and sympathy and affection and brains than she need have done,—and there were those among the students who came near to appreciating these qualities as they deserved. But of course there were others—as at Mannheim of old—with whom a cheaper personality would better have served the turn.

For ten years or more, the School did amazing work, but the instability of its foundation turned out to be too much. Whether the "lion-hearted" ^[153] pioneer, with her incredible knack for organizing details, could have succeeded under such tough conditions after the heroic early days is hard to say. There's no need to explain to the reader—S. J.-B.’s fiercest critic never denied—that she put far more effort, compassion, care, and intelligence into the project than she had to, and some of the students came close to recognizing these qualities properly. But of course, there were others—just like back in Mannheim—who would have preferred a less demanding personality.

For a year or two everyone was happy and contented, and then the crash of temperaments came. There is no need to tell the story in detail. Some of those concerned were young, and some were foolish, and there are some concerning whom one’s lips are sealed. The original difficulty was complicated by side issues that never could be fully threshed out. The actual story seems interminable, and sometimes insignificant enough, but the principle underlying it is of the real essence of tragedy. Enough to say that at the end of a year or two, S. J.-B. found herself confronted with a form of opposition which no one in authority would cheerfully have gone to meet,—a form of opposition peculiarly trying to one of her temperament. Supreme tact might have weathered the storm,—and it must always be remembered that, on many occasions in life, in this connection and in others,—she evidenced a tact that was all but supreme. In any case she failed here. Opposition classes were started in due course on a cheaper basis, classes in which the central controlling power was purely nominal. There was endless propaganda; some sort of organization was got together: everybody who had a grudge against S. J.-B. remembered it now; her faults, mistakes and deficiencies—particularly her want of enthusiasm for missions—came back relentlessly upon her head: and she found herself (as Thring has said of “every consistent worker on principle”), “put in the position of opposing what she had always worked for, and her opponents posing as the workers.” Professor Masson and Miss Louisa Stevenson, both of whom had 500considered the founding of a Scottish School at this moment premature, wrote to her in grim amusement at some of the names which now appeared in support of the cause.

For a year or two, everyone was happy and satisfied, and then the clash of personalities began. There’s no need to go into details. Some involved were young, some were foolish, and there are a few about whom one should remain silent. The original issue was complicated by side problems that could never be fully resolved. The actual story seems endless and at times trivial, but the principle behind it is at the heart of true tragedy. It’s enough to say that after a year or two, S. J.-B. found herself facing a kind of opposition that no one in authority would willingly confront—a type of opposition especially challenging for her temperament. Extraordinary tact might have gotten her through— and it should always be noted that, on many occasions in life, including this one, she demonstrated a level of tact that was nearly exceptional. In any case, she didn't succeed here. Opposition classes were eventually established at a lower cost, where the main controlling authority was just nominal. There was endless propaganda; some sort of organization was formed: everyone who had a grudge against S. J.-B. remembered it now; her faults, mistakes, and shortcomings—especially her lack of enthusiasm for missions—came back relentlessly to haunt her: and she found herself (as Thring said of “every consistent worker on principle”), “in the position of opposing what she had always worked for, while her opponents pretended to be the real workers.” Professor Masson and Miss Louisa Stevenson, both of whom thought the founding of a Scottish School at this time was premature, wrote to her in grim amusement at some of the names now supporting the cause.

Let it be conceded for all the concession is worth, that in a sense S. J.-B. brought the difficulty upon herself. Once again something was required of her which a smaller person could have given, but which she could not give. The tragic element lay in this that she never saw where she was at fault. She was conscious of an honest purpose and of unwearying unselfish endeavour. What more could one ask? So many people succeed who give much less than this! She even yielded on a good many points—when yielding was too late.

Let's acknowledge that S. J.-B. somewhat brought this difficulty on herself. Once again, something was expected from her that a less capable person could have managed, but she couldn't. The tragedy was that she never realized where she went wrong. She was aware of her honest intentions and her tireless selflessness. What more could anyone want? So many people succeed by giving far less than this! She even compromised on several issues—when it was already too late to matter.

What strikes one most on looking back is the extraordinary loyalty with which most of the students rallied round her when the split came.

What stands out the most when looking back is the incredible loyalty that most of the students showed towards her when the split happened.

When one of the lecturers (who had striven, like so many others, to make “even a slight alteration” in her) congratulated her on the “brains” she had retained in the School, she responded characteristically:

When one of the lecturers (who had worked hard, like many others, to make “even a slight change” in her) praised her for the “smarts” she had kept in school, she reacted in her usual way:

“And the heart.”

“And the heart,” he agreed.

"And the heart," he said.

Some of the lecturers were even finer. “The terms you name are quite satisfactory,” wrote Dr. Aitken when things were at quite their worst, and S. J.-B. could no longer guarantee an adequate emolument. “I would take your students without fee of any kind before I would see you beat, so you need not let the matter give you any concern.”

Some of the lecturers were even better. “The terms you suggested are perfectly fine,” wrote Dr. Aitken when things were at their worst, and S. J.-B. could no longer promise a reasonable payment. “I would take your students without any fee before I let you get defeated, so you don’t need to worry about this.”

And Dr. (now Professor) A. J. Thomson, when he heard she was leaving Edinburgh, wrote:

And Dr. (now Professor) A. J. Thomson, when he found out she was leaving Edinburgh, wrote:

“I have always felt, if I may dare to say so, that your part has been like that of a general who won a great battle and then rode away, leaving the achievement with the ungrateful. Happily you know how many of us are neither ungrateful nor ignorant.”

“I have always felt, if I can say this, that your role has been like that of a general who won a major battle and then rode away, leaving the glory with the ungrateful. Fortunately, you know how many of us are neither ungrateful nor ignorant.”

But finest of all was the effect on S. J.-B. herself. She fought on, of course,—that was in the nature of her,—and loyal supporters were many;^[154] but, although the long 501struggle to keep the better School going,—to get it improved, endowed, affiliated to the University of St. Andrews,—absolutely wore her out, she never became embittered and she never really lost her buoyancy. When Queen Margaret College opened a medical side in 1890, one might have thought it was the last straw, especially as it meant the removal of eight of her students whose homes were in or near Glasgow, but in this case her loss meant the progress of the cause, and she rejoiced in it wholeheartedly. It was delightful to see the happy terms on which she and Miss Galloway worked in sympathy until and beyond the final closing of the Edinburgh School.

But the best part was the impact on S. J.-B. herself. She kept fighting, of course—that was just how she was—and she had many loyal supporters; ^[154] but even though the long struggle to keep the better School running—to improve it, get it funded, and affiliated with the University of St. Andrews—completely exhausted her, she never became bitter and she never truly lost her spirit. When Queen Margaret College opened a medical department in 1890, it might have seemed like the last straw, especially since it meant losing eight of her students who lived in or around Glasgow, but in this case, her loss meant progress for the cause, and she celebrated it wholeheartedly. It was wonderful to see how well she and Miss Galloway worked together in harmony until and beyond the final closure of the Edinburgh School.

So she always retained her gallant front. If she thought sometimes of “that weary School” she never spoke so: she always saw in it the ideal of what it was going to be. Success was always just round the corner so to speak, all but within reach; but success, in the form in which she looked for it, never came.

So she always kept up her brave facade. Even if she occasionally thought about "that tiring School," she never said it that way; she always envisioned it as the ideal of what it could become. Success was always just around the corner, so to speak, almost within reach; but the kind of success she was looking for never arrived.

Success there was, of course, “not its semblance, but itself.” Honest work always means success. The brief life of that School was the seed-time of much fine work that would otherwise never have been done. Its students have acquitted themselves nobly in many parts of the world. And on the principle that “he who watereth shall himself be watered,” it did much for S. J.-B. It gave her a little band of juniors who in some measure understood her, who responded to her ideals, who were proud to assist her and to reckon themselves her disciples. The interest she took in them individually was amazing. No trouble was too great that would forward their interests in any way. As the years went on, she seemed to forget herself altogether in their successes. She lived anew in their lives. Her whole nature grew and mellowed, though it could not change. And one is glad to record that never again to the end of life did she suffer the weeks and months of loneliness that had darkened the early days of her professional career.

Success there was, of course, “not just its appearance, but the real thing.” Hard work always leads to success. The short existence of that School was the foundation for a lot of great work that otherwise wouldn’t have happened. Its students have excelled in many places around the world. And based on the idea that “those who give will themselves receive,” it did a lot for S. J.-B. It provided her with a small group of juniors who somewhat understood her, who embraced her ideals, and who were proud to support her and see themselves as her students. The attention she gave each of them was incredible. No effort was too much if it would benefit them in any way. As the years passed, she seemed to completely lose herself in their achievements. She found renewed life in their journeys. Her entire being grew and matured, even though it couldn’t change. And it’s heartening to note that she never again experienced the weeks and months of loneliness that had overshadowed the early days of her professional career.

502

CHAPTER V
RE-OPENING OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY TO WOMEN

It seemed better in the previous chapter to explain at once that, after a brief run of prosperity, the history of the Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women was chequered by a long fight against heavy odds; but no one who visited the stirring bee-hive at Surgeon Square would have guessed at the struggle that underlay its cheerful aspect. And, fortunately, there were many strands in S. J.-B.’s life besides the struggle for her School. In a doctor’s experience there must always be much to interest and cheer, and S. J.-B.’s range was wider than that of the ordinary doctor. Editors were no less glad of her work than of old. In the autumn of 1887, she wrote to the Editor of the Nineteenth Century, offering him a paper on Medical Women which should supplement the one contributed by Mr. Stansfeld ten years before. Mr. Knowles replied immediately that he would be delighted to receive such a paper from her, and “the sooner the better.” The article duly appeared in November of that year.

It seemed better in the previous chapter to explain right away that, after a brief period of success, the history of the Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women was marked by a long struggle against significant challenges; however, anyone who visited the bustling environment at Surgeon Square would not have suspected the difficulties that lay beneath its cheerful surface. Fortunately, S. J.-B. had many interests in her life beyond just the fight for her School. A doctor’s experience should always include plenty of interesting and uplifting moments, and S. J.-B.’s scope was broader than that of the average doctor. Editors were just as pleased to have her work as before. In the fall of 1887, she wrote to the Editor of the Nineteenth Century, offering him a paper on Medical Women that would complement the one contributed by Mr. Stansfeld ten years earlier. Mr. Knowles quickly replied that he would be thrilled to receive such a paper from her and “the sooner the better.” The article was published in November of that year.

At her little hospital she had a series of residents, some from the London School and some from her own, whom one can fairly describe as picked women,—keen and competent and loyal; and she enjoyed and appreciated these as they deserved. More and more, too, people sought her opinion and advice on every subject of real human interest. One doctor—a complete stranger—even wrote from far wilds to ask whether there was any lady studying in her School who she thought was likely to make him a suitable wife. He was coming home, but his leave was short, and he would be 503glad if she would save time by paving the way for him as far as possible. I am afraid the students never even heard of this opportunity!

At her small hospital, she had a group of residents, some from the London School and some from her own program, who could be fairly described as exceptional women—enthusiastic, capable, and loyal. She enjoyed and valued them as they deserved. More and more, people sought her opinion and advice on all sorts of important human matters. One doctor—a complete stranger—even wrote from a remote area to ask if there was any woman studying in her School whom she thought would be a suitable wife for him. He was coming home, but his time off was limited, and he would appreciate it if she could help him out as much as possible. I'm afraid the students never even heard about this opportunity!

How far she was from discouraging a true marriage may be gathered from the following letter to one of her former residents for whom she had designs in the way of more ambitious work, and who wrote in some trepidation to confess that she was engaged to be married:

How far she was from discouraging a genuine marriage can be understood from the following letter to one of her former residents, for whom she had plans for more ambitious work, and who wrote with some anxiety to confess that she was engaged to be married:

“May 30, 1895.

Dear Miss ——,

I was very glad to get your letter of March 10th, and very much interested in all your news. I may set your mind at rest by saying at once that I am not going to scold you about your engagement. I hold most strongly that ‘Love should still be Lord of all,’ and that if two good people love each other heartily in the right way, they ought to marry under almost all circumstances. I don’t believe in vows of celibacy for medical women any more than for any one else. Women are women before they are doctors.

I was really happy to receive your letter from March 10th and was very interested in all your news. I can reassure you right away that I’m not going to scold you about your engagement. I strongly believe that ‘Love should still be Lord of all,’ and if two good people genuinely love each other, they should get married in almost any situation. I don’t believe in vows of celibacy for female doctors any more than for anyone else. Women are women before they are doctors.

At the same time I am afraid you are rather sanguine in hoping that you will be of more use in your profession married than single. It is not the husbands that are the obstacles to practice, but the babies. If a woman becomes a mother, I certainly think nothing outside her home can have, or ought to have, so much claim upon her as her children.

At the same time, I'm afraid you're being a bit too optimistic in thinking that you'll be more useful in your career if you're married rather than single. It's not the husbands who are the barriers to working, but the babies. If a woman becomes a mother, I truly believe that nothing outside her home should have, or deserves to have, as much of her attention as her children do.

However I think it constantly happens that we plan out one kind of life for ourselves, and then that another is shaped out for us, and we must believe, if we believe in a God at all, that the wisdom that decides for us is greater than our own.

However, I think it often happens that we plan one kind of life for ourselves, and then another is created for us, and we have to believe, if we believe in God at all, that the wisdom deciding for us is greater than our own.

So long as we act up to our highest light, I think we need not trouble ourselves about results....

As long as we live according to our best understanding, I don't think we need to worry about the outcomes....

With all good wishes, believe me,

With all my best wishes, believe me,

Yours sincerely,

S. Jex-Blake.”

That this was no new attitude on her part we learn from a letter written many years before to Miss Bertha Cordery. “You are quite right in thinking that I do not by any means as a matter of course congratulate people on their marriage, but when you say that ‘having met, no other result was possible,’ I think you express the essence of a good marriage with the terseness worthy of the distinguished historian.^[155]”

That this was not a new attitude for her is clear from a letter she wrote many years earlier to Miss Bertha Cordery. “You’re absolutely right in thinking that I don’t automatically congratulate people on their marriage, but when you say that ‘having met, no other result was possible,’ I believe you capture the essence of a good marriage with the succinctness deserving of a distinguished historian.^[155]”

504This seems the best place to say one word about the special interest S. J.-B. took in her Hindu students. The first of these, Annie Jagannadham, was a young woman of such fine and finished character that her early death, soon after her return to her native land, was a matter for infinite regret, but scarcely for surprise. When she qualified as a doctor, S. J.-B. wrote to the Spectator to point out the desirability of sending back Hindu women educated in England to minister to their own countrywomen; and her letter called forth a gratifying response from Mr. James Cropper of Ellergreen (who had been interested in S. J.-B.’s first application to the University of Edinburgh many years before) offering to found a scholarship for Hindu women at her school. This was accordingly done, and a series of Hindu students was the result. Differing from each other in many respects, they were alike in one thing, and that was a real gift for understanding and appreciating their Dean. They seemed to find the Mother side of her by a sort of instinct.

504This seems like the right moment to mention the special interest S. J.-B. had in her Hindu students. The first of these, Annie Jagannadham, was a young woman of exceptional character, and her early death, shortly after returning to her homeland, was a source of deep regret, though hardly surprising. When she became a doctor, S. J.-B. wrote to the Spectator to emphasize the importance of sending educated Hindu women back to serve their fellow countrywomen; her letter received a positive response from Mr. James Cropper of Ellergreen (who had been interested in S. J.-B.’s initial application to the University of Edinburgh many years prior), who offered to create a scholarship for Hindu women at her school. This proposal was implemented, leading to a series of Hindu students. While they differed in many ways, they all shared a remarkable ability to understand and appreciate their Dean. They seemed to instinctively connect with her nurturing side.

“I cannot tell you,” wrote one who had failed in an examination abroad, “how much your kind letter comforted me. When I was happy I wrote to other people; but when I was in distress I wrote to you and was soothed, for failure did not seem so hard when you were satisfied with my work.”

“I can’t tell you,” wrote someone who had failed an exam overseas, “how much your thoughtful letter comforted me. When I was happy, I wrote to other people; but when I was struggling, I wrote to you and felt better, because failure didn’t seem so tough when you appreciated my efforts.”

When Rukhmabai came to Edinburgh for her Final Professional Examination, she was S. J.-B.’s guest, and a strong mutual admiration and friendship was the result.

When Rukhmabai arrived in Edinburgh for her Final Professional Examination, she was hosted by S. J.-B., leading to a deep mutual admiration and friendship.

In accepting the chairmanship of the School, Dr. Balfour had made it almost a stipulation that S. J.-B. should personally undertake the teaching of Midwifery, and, in consequence of this, she was the first woman to be recognized as a lecturer in the Extra-Mural School. As a matter of fact, her special technical training was necessarily out of date. Dr. Balfour probably looked upon Midwifery mainly as a subject that successful physicians leave behind them, and did not realize that greater strides had been made in the teaching of this subject than in any other. However, S. J.-B. was a born teacher, as we know: she worked hard: and she had the able coöperation of the late Dr. Milne Murray, whose attitude 505towards her in this connection was one more of the splendid loyalties bound up in the story of her life.

When Dr. Balfour accepted the chairmanship of the School, he made it clear that S. J.-B. should personally teach Midwifery. As a result, she became the first woman to be recognized as a lecturer in the Extra-Mural School. In reality, her specialized training was somewhat outdated. Dr. Balfour likely viewed Midwifery mostly as a topic that successful doctors moved past, not realizing that advancements in teaching this subject had surpassed those in any other area. Nevertheless, S. J.-B. was a natural teacher, as we know: she put in a lot of effort and had the strong support of the late Dr. Milne Murray, whose relationship with her in this regard was another example of the remarkable loyalties woven throughout her life.

And one cannot talk of loyalty without recalling a characteristic letter from Dr. Pechey, written when she received the news of S. J.-B.’s appointment:

And you can't talk about loyalty without mentioning a notable letter from Dr. Pechey, written when she heard about S. J.-B.’s appointment:

“Hip Hip Hooray!!
Hip Hip Hooray!!!
Hip Hip Hooray!!!!!

In the very place where we were stoned and beaten 18 years ago. Well, I am glad to have lived to see the day. Just when your paper came, I was feeling life a burden.

In the exact spot where we were stoned and beaten 18 years ago. Well, I'm glad I lived to see this day. Right when your letter arrived, I was feeling like life was a burden.

Do you think they would let me lecture on something—Shakespeare or the musical glasses—when I come home if ever I do. When you want an assistant let me know.

Do you think they would let me give a lecture on something—Shakespeare or the musical glasses—when I come home if I ever do? When you need an assistant, let me know.

I don’t know when I have felt so pleased and elated and especially that it should happen to you, it is so appropriate. Isn’t Mrs. Thorne very pleased and everybody else?...

I don’t know when I’ve felt so happy and thrilled, especially since it’s happening to you; it’s so fitting. Isn’t Mrs. Thorne really pleased, along with everyone else?

Dear Sophy, I am so pleased, more than if some one had left me a million of money, though I do have to look hard at every anna now before letting it go!”

Dear Sophy, I am so happy, more than if someone had given me a million dollars, even though I really have to think carefully about every penny now before spending it!”

“Thanks for your very hearty congratulations,” S. J.-B. wrote in reply,—“... Selfishly, I regret it very much, for I have no idea how to find either the time or the strength (or knowledge) for the course, but I suppose I must just do the best I can.

“Thanks for your warm congratulations,” S. J.-B. wrote in response, “... Honestly, I feel really bad about it, because I have no idea how to find the time or energy (or knowledge) for the course, but I guess I just have to do my best.”

Of course if you were here you could have the pick of the lecturerships in the School, and after one precedent, they couldn’t refuse to recognize you: but the pay would hardly keep your Highness in hairpins.”

Of course, if you were here, you could choose any lecturership in the School, and following one example, they couldn't refuse to acknowledge you. But the pay wouldn't be enough to support your Highness's hairpin collection.

The idea of having her old friend in Edinburgh dwelt in her mind nevertheless, and some time later—in May 1890—she wrote:

The thought of her old friend in Edinburgh stayed on her mind, and some time later—in May 1890—she wrote:

“By the bye if you do decide to leave India next year, and if it could possibly be made to fit in with Mr. Phipson’s plans,^[156] I wish with all my heart that you could see your way to come and settle in Edinburgh, and take up with your splendid energy the very wide field in Scotland that is almost ripe to harvest. My strength is about spent, and besides you have elements of social success that I never should have. You are far more of a woman of the world and a far more able diplomatist. My Hospital will never develop in my tired hands, but I believe you might make a splendid thing of it; and at the same time I believe you would have a capital 506west-end practice almost immediately, and of course a lectureship if you cared to have it. Think this idea over thoroughly before you decide against it.

“By the way, if you do decide to leave India next year, and if it can fit in with Mr. Phipson’s plans,^[156] I truly wish you could see your way to come and settle in Edinburgh and bring your incredible energy to the vast opportunities in Scotland that are almost ready to be tapped. My strength is nearly gone, and besides, you have social skills that I could never possess. You’re much more worldly and a far better diplomat. My Hospital won’t thrive in my weary hands, but I believe you could turn it into something amazing; plus, I think you’d easily build a great west-end practice and, of course, get a lectureship if you wanted one. Please think this idea over carefully before you decide against it.

Yours sincerely,

S. Jex-Blake.”

The feeling that her time of work was drawing to an end was intensified by the news of the death of her friend, Dr. Lucy Sewall. This was the last heavy bereavement she had to face, and she took it hard. To her friend, Mrs. Brander, her “eldest daughter,” she had written a month or two before the above correspondence with Dr. Pechey:

The feeling that her working days were coming to an end was made stronger by the news of her friend, Dr. Lucy Sewall's death. This was the last significant loss she had to deal with, and it hit her hard. A month or two before the correspondence with Dr. Pechey, she had written to her friend, Mrs. Brander, whom she called her “eldest daughter”:

“Feb. 27. 1890.

Dearest Bel,

Dear Bel,

For the second time I have to send you terribly bad news. My dear friend, Dr. Sewall, has been as you know in bad health for the last 4 or 5 years, and last month she was seized with a very severe attack of bronchitis, from which she never regained strength, and she passed away ‘very peacefully’ on Feb. 13th.

For the second time, I have to share some really bad news. My dear friend, Dr. Sewall, has been in poor health for the last 4 or 5 years, and last month she had a severe bronchitis attack from which she never recovered. She passed away "very peacefully" on February 13th.

Though I have seen so little of her for some years back, it is a great blow to me,—the greatest I have felt since 1881.

Though I haven’t seen much of her in the past few years, it’s a huge blow to me—the biggest I’ve felt since 1881.

How I hope that she is again with the mother and father she loved so very dearly. Indeed she has never really rallied, I believe, from her father’s death (at 90) a year ago.

How I hope that she is back with the mother and father she loved so much. Honestly, I don’t think she has truly recovered from her father’s death (at 90) a year ago.

A whiter sweeter soul never lived, and her memory ‘smells sweet and blossoms in the dust.’

A sweeter, whiter soul never existed, and her memory "smells sweet and blooms in the dust."

I cannot write more today, but I could not let you hear it from anyone else.

I can't write any more today, but I couldn't let you hear it from anyone else.

I hope you got the little book I sent you at Christmas. I could not write but it carried much affection to you.

I hope you received the little book I sent you for Christmas. I couldn't write, but it was filled with a lot of love for you.

Yours affectionately,

S. J.-B.”

For the Englishwoman’s Review she wrote an account of this “strong and gentle soul,” quoting the lines Whittier had written about her ancestor. “I enclose the whole verse about Judge Sewall,” she says to the Editor, “in case you have room for it. It might almost word for word have been written of his far-away descendant.

For the Englishwoman’s Review, she wrote a piece about this "strong and gentle soul," quoting the lines Whittier had penned about her ancestor. “I’m enclosing the entire verse about Judge Sewall,” she tells the Editor, “in case you have space for it. It could practically have been written about his distant descendant, word for word.”

‘Walks the Judge of the Great Assize,
Samuel Sewall, the good and wise.
His face with lines of firmness wrought,
He wears the look of a man unbought,
507Who swears to his hurt and changes not;
Yet touched and softened nevertheless
With the grace of Christian gentleness,
The face that a child would climb to kiss!
True and tender and brave and just,
That man might honour and woman trust.’”

S. J.-B.’s hands might be tired, but the eye on the bridge was as keen as ever. She had been aiming from the first at some sort of reinforcement from St. Andrews, and in 1888 Lord Lothian’s Bill had seemed to open a new door of hope.

S. J.-B.’s hands might be tired, but the lookout on the bridge was as sharp as ever. She had been focused from the beginning on getting some kind of support from St. Andrews, and in 1888, Lord Lothian’s Bill had seemed to offer a new glimmer of hope.

“May 10th. [1888.]

Dear Mr. Stansfeld,

Hello Mr. Stansfeld,

The Bill of which I wrote is the ‘Universities (Scotland) Bill,’ which has been introduced in the House of Lords by Lord Lothian. I believe it has not yet come down to your House, but I am very anxious, when it does so, that attention should be directed to the clauses about women and about ‘affiliation of Colleges,’ which latter might solve our problem, e.g. if our Edinburgh School were affiliated to St. Andrews.

The bill I mentioned is the ‘Universities (Scotland) Bill,’ which Lord Lothian introduced in the House of Lords. I believe it hasn’t reached your House yet, but I'm really concerned that, when it does, attention should be focused on the sections regarding women and the ‘affiliation of Colleges,’ as this could help solve our issue. For instance, if our Edinburgh School became affiliated with St. Andrews.

I shall be most grateful if you will talk about it beforehand with members likely to be interested, and if possible speak on it also.

I would really appreciate it if you could discuss this in advance with any members who might be interested, and, if possible, speak about it as well.

Yours always gratefully,

S. Jex-Blake.”

The previous day she had written,

The day before, she had written,

“May 9th.

Dear Lord Aberdare,

I am extremely obliged for your very kind letter, and shall be most grateful if you can make Lord Lothian’s acquaintance, interest him in our subject, and introduce me to him. I am very anxious to secure his favourable attention, and that of the Commission, and I am sure that your introduction would give me the best possible chance. I am most anxious not to lose the present opportunity to bring our needs to the front.

I am very grateful for your kind letter and would really appreciate it if you could meet Lord Lothian, get him interested in our topic, and introduce me to him. I'm eager to gain his favorable attention, as well as that of the Commission, and I'm sure your introduction would give me the best chance. I really don't want to miss this opportunity to highlight our needs.

With renewed thanks,
Yours very truly,
S. Jex-Blake.”

When the Bill was passed and Commissioners appointed, she laid before them a memorial in support of the desired aims, and in June 1891 she was summoned to give evidence in person. On June 28th she wrote to Miss Du Pre:

When the Bill was passed and Commissioners were appointed, she presented a petition to support the desired goals, and in June 1891, she was called to give evidence in person. On June 28th, she wrote to Miss Du Pre:

“I had to appear before the University Commissioners last Wednesday, and if possible I will send you a proof of my examination. It 508was very satisfactory, as the Chairman (Lord Kinnear) said they were satisfied that it was desirable and necessary to give medical degrees to women in Scotland.”

“I had to meet with the University Commissioners last Wednesday, and if I can, I’ll send you proof of my examination. It was really good, as the Chairman (Lord Kinnear) mentioned they felt it was both desirable and necessary to award medical degrees to women in Scotland.”

To another friend she had written a week earlier,

To another friend, she had written a week earlier,

“By the bye you will like to see the enclosed proof of my evidence last week before the Universities Commission. Miss E.-L. made me tell my class about it next day, and they clapped warmly; and then, after the lecture, as I was going out, they gave me another round. I stopped and said,—‘Oh, is that for Univ. Commission?’ ‘For you, Doctor!’ shouted Miss Moorhead.”

“By the way, you’ll want to see the proof of my testimony from last week before the Universities Commission. Miss E.-L. had me share it with my class the next day, and they applauded enthusiastically; then, after the lecture, as I was leaving, they gave me another round of applause. I paused and said, ‘Oh, is that for the Univ. Commission?’ ‘For you, Doctor!’ shouted Miss Moorhead.”

The whole matter, as is usual with such things, ran a leisurely course, for on April 27th, 1892, she writes again,

The whole situation, like often happens with these things, moved slowly, because on April 27th, 1892, she writes again,

“... I had one very amusing experience on Monday. The Scottish Universities Commission has been issuing some ‘Ordinances’ to which serious objections are taken, and among others a flaw has been found in the Women’s Ordinance, which we want to have remedied. All the objecting bodies were to meet together, so Dr. Balfour and I were summoned by enclosed solemn document to appear to represent our School, and it was amusing to find myself an invited delegate, at whose entrance the Chairman rose and came forward with outstretched hand, in the awful University Court Room, where our case had over and over again been tried by a hostile authority, and lost, without an opportunity for a word in our own defence.

“… I had a really funny experience on Monday. The Scottish Universities Commission has been putting out some ‘Ordinances’ that have faced serious objections, and among other issues, a flaw has been found in the Women’s Ordinance that we want to fix. All the groups that objected were supposed to meet, so Dr. Balfour and I were officially summoned to represent our School, and it was funny to find myself as an invited delegate, where the Chairman stood up and came forward with an outstretched hand in the intimidating University Court Room, where our case had been repeatedly tried by an unfriendly authority, and we had lost without even getting a chance to defend ourselves.

Sir Robert Christison looked down from the wall, and it made me almost chuckle to think what he would have said!

Sir Robert Christison looked down from the wall, and it almost made me laugh to think about what he would have said!

Sic transit! How the world moves!

Sic transit! How the world changes!

I have just heard this morning of a legacy of £100 for our Hospital, and probably something for the School though (from vague wording) that is less certain.”

I just heard this morning about a legacy of £100 for our Hospital, and probably something for the School too, although it's not as certain due to the vague wording.

At this time the great hope—as so often in the past—lay in the direction of the University of St. Andrews, but the hope proved illusory once more. In reading the history, one feels again and again as if St. Andrews University had been surrounded by some strange magic circle, for it happened on numberless occasions that when everything seemed settled, and every difficulty had been laboriously overcome, some unsuspected link in the chain gave way, and endless exertion was rendered null and void. So it seems to have happened now, for in June 1894 we find S. J.-B. writing again to Miss Du Pre:

At this point, the biggest hope—as it often has been in the past—was directed towards the University of St. Andrews, but once again, that hope turned out to be just an illusion. When reading the history, you constantly get the feeling that St. Andrews University has been surrounded by some odd magical barrier, since time after time, just when everything appeared to be settled and all obstacles had been painstakingly overcome, some unexpected link in the chain would break, making all the hard work pointless. It appears to have happened like that again, because in June 1894, we see S. J.-B. writing once more to Miss Du Pre:

509

“I have been desperately busy this week, chiefly at the University or with University people, as circumstances have led to my very suddenly applying to have our School recognized by the [Edinburgh] University Court, which really seems possible, Calderwood and Watson both being members of it. The story is a long one, arising out of complications at St. Andrews.

“I have been incredibly busy this week, mostly at the University or with University colleagues, as I’ve suddenly had to apply for our School to be recognized by the [Edinburgh] University Court, which actually seems feasible, since both Calderwood and Watson are members. It’s a long story that comes from some complications at St. Andrews.”

I enclose a copy of my Memorial,—please return it. It comes up tomorrow before the Court.

I’m sending you a copy of my Memorial—please return it. It goes before the Court tomorrow.

Watson said so very kindly that he hoped it would pass, if only that I might have rest from my long labours,—wasn’t it sweet of him? A quarter of a century is a long time!”

Watson kindly hoped it would pass, just so I could get some rest from my long efforts—wasn’t that nice of him? A quarter of a century is a long time!

So the old warrior gathered herself together once more and made a last appeal to the University Court of her own Alma Mater to grant to other women the privilege that could never now be her own. She reminded them that in 1869 the same Court had conceded the principle of admitting women to graduation in medicine, that that principle had never been disallowed by them, and that the problem of its practical accomplishment had been under the consideration of the Court ever since.

So the old warrior gathered herself together once more and made a final appeal to the University Court of her Alma Mater to grant other women the privilege that would never be hers. She reminded them that in 1869, the same Court had accepted the principle of allowing women to graduate in medicine, that this principle had never been rejected by them, and that the issue of putting it into practice had been under the Court's consideration ever since.

It cannot be said that hope ran high even now. It had always been a saying among Scottish students that Edinburgh would be the last stronghold to yield; but the tide everywhere was on the turn. After full consideration of the subject, the Court rose nobly to the spirit of the resolution passed by their predecessors in 1869, and in October 1894 made public their determination to admit women forthwith to graduation in medicine.medicine.

It can't be said that hope was high even now. There was always a saying among Scottish students that Edinburgh would be the last stronghold to give in; but the tide was turning everywhere. After careful consideration of the issue, the Court rose to the spirit of the resolution passed by their predecessors in 1869, and in October 1894 announced their decision to allow women to graduate in medicine.medicine.

The National Association for Promoting the Medical Education of Women, which had done such excellent service after its foundation in 1871, had for some years ceased to exist; “At the present time many of its members had passed away, and others were widely scattered, but it seemed desirable to those women who had always been members of it, and who were still resident in Edinburgh, that some congratulation should be offered by them to Dr. Jex-Blake, for the great victory that had been achieved by her in the opening of the degrees of the University of Edinburgh to women after a struggle extending over exactly five-and-twenty 510years.”^[157] So on Saturday, November 3rd, 1894, these honourable women met together and presented the following address:

The National Association for Promoting the Medical Education of Women, which had provided incredible support since its founding in 1871, had not been active for several years. “At this time, many of its members had passed away, and others were spread out in different places, but it felt important to the women who had always been part of it and were still living in Edinburgh to congratulate Dr. Jex-Blake on the significant achievement of opening the degrees of the University of Edinburgh to women after a struggle that lasted exactly twenty-five years.”510 ^[157] So on Saturday, November 3rd, 1894, these distinguished women gathered and presented the following address:

“We, the undersigned, women members of the original National Association for the Medical Education of Women, resident at this time in Edinburgh, desire to offer to you our warm and hearty congratulations on the brilliant success you have achieved in securing the opening of the Edinburgh University medical examinations and degrees to women students. We know that it was largely due to your great ability and knowledge that the enabling Bill of 1876 was passed, which put it into the power, if they so willed, of each of the nineteen examining bodies of the United Kingdom to admit women to qualifying examinations, and which was the foundation of the success on which we congratulate you to-day. Many who worked with and under you in the old days have passed away. We who are left take this opportunity of expressing to you our appreciation of the great sacrifice you have made of time, and strength, and money, to win for younger women in their own country a complete medical education crowned by a degree. To have done this in Edinburgh we regard as a success of which you may be justly proud. (Signed)—Elizabeth Pease Nichol, Anne H. Calderwood, Grant A. Millar, Flora C. Stevenson, Phœbe Blyth, Sarah E. Siddons Mair, Emily Hodgson, Charlotte Geddes, Agnes Craig, Anne B. Foster, Hannah Lorimer, M. G. Paton, Priscilla Bright M‘Laren, Elizabeth Stuart Blackie, Elisa Carlile Stevenson, Mina Kunz, C. M. Charteris, Margaret Wyld, Eliza Wigham, Jessie M. Wellstood, Euphemia Millar, Eliza Scott Kirkland, Maggie A. Rose, Augusta G. Wyld, Helen Brown, A. A. Skelton, C. M. Edington, A. Edington, Amelia R. Hill, Mary Burton, Louisa Stevenson.—9th October, 1894.”

“We, the undersigned, women members of the original National Association for the Medical Education of Women, currently residing in Edinburgh, want to extend our heartfelt congratulations on the incredible success you have achieved in opening Edinburgh University’s medical examinations and degrees to women students. We understand that your exceptional ability and knowledge played a significant role in passing the enabling Bill of 1876, which allowed each of the nineteen examining bodies in the United Kingdom to admit women to qualifying examinations, laying the groundwork for the success we celebrate today. Many of those who worked with you in earlier days have passed on. We who remain take this opportunity to express our appreciation for the tremendous sacrifices you have made of time, energy, and finances to secure a comprehensive medical education, capped with a degree, for younger women in their own country. Accomplishing this in Edinburgh is a success that you can be justly proud of. (Signed)—Elizabeth Pease Nichol, Anne H. Calderwood, Grant A. Millar, Flora C. Stevenson, Phœbe Blyth, Sarah E. Siddons Mair, Emily Hodgson, Charlotte Geddes, Agnes Craig, Anne B. Foster, Hannah Lorimer, M. G. Paton, Priscilla Bright M‘Laren, Elizabeth Stuart Blackie, Elisa Carlile Stevenson, Mina Kunz, C. M. Charteris, Margaret Wyld, Eliza Wigham, Jessie M. Wellstood, Euphemia Millar, Eliza Scott Kirkland, Maggie A. Rose, Augusta G. Wyld, Helen Brown, A. A. Skelton, C. M. Edington, A. Edington, Amelia R. Hill, Mary Burton, Louisa Stevenson.—9th October, 1894.”

Before leaving the subject of S. J.-B.’s active life in Edinburgh, it may be well to sum up some of her main characteristics as a doctor and as a citizen, though to a great extent these have already become evident.

Before moving on from the topic of S. J.-B.’s active life in Edinburgh, it’s useful to summarize some of her key traits as a doctor and a citizen, even though many of these have already become clear.

First, was her great deftness in any kind of manipulation. It was interesting to see her outshine in this respect so many of the trig and dainty women who at one time or another, worked under her.

First, there was her incredible skill in handling things. It was interesting to see her outshine so many elegant and delicate women who, at one time or another, worked for her.

Second, was her readiness in emergency. The grass never grew under her feet. It is on record that she had finished some minor operation before her anaesthetist knew that she 511had begun. An amusing instance of her readiness occurs in a chance episode with her carriage-builder. It was not unusual for her to have little rubs with this man. He and his subordinates had difficulty in living up to her ideas of punctuality, and no doubt they considered her a bit of a nuisance.

Second, was her preparedness in a crisis. She never sat around waiting. It's noted that she completed a minor surgery before her anaesthetist even realized she had started. An amusing example of her quick thinking happened during an unexpected encounter with her carriage-builder. It wasn't uncommon for her to have small disagreements with this guy. He and his team struggled to meet her standards for punctuality, and they likely found her somewhat annoying.

One day she called to remonstrate about something and found “the Governor” in great distress from a splinter of steel which had become imbedded in his eye.

One day she called to complain about something and found “the Governor” in significant distress from a piece of steel that had become lodged in his eye.

“I’ll take it out for you,” she said, and, turning to the men, added, “Bring a chair.”

“I’ll get it for you,” she said, and, turning to the men, added, “Bring a chair.”

The chair was placed by her direction in the best light obtainable, i.e. on the gallery surrounding the carriage yard, in full view of the men and horses below. She made the patient sit down, and, standing behind him, produced a surgical needle from her instrument case and with its curved convex edge deftly removed the splinter.

The chair was positioned as she directed in the best available light, i.e. on the gallery surrounding the carriage yard, giving a clear view of the men and horses below. She had the patient sit down and, standing behind him, took a surgical needle from her instrument case and skillfully removed the splinter with its curved edge.

It was all done in the twinkling of an eye. Very simple, but very characteristic.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Very straightforward, but very typical.

And it would have been awkward if she had failed.

And it would have been uncomfortable if she had failed.

Third, was her refusal to let a patient die. No doctor wishes to lose a case, but with S. J.-B. it was a matter of definite personal struggle.

Third, it was her determination to not let a patient die. No doctor wants to lose a case, but for S. J.-B., it became a personal battle.

One day in the comparatively early days of practice, she came in very late to lunch, having been urgently detained with a private patient. She was anxious about a case in her little hospital—a surgical case which had developed medical complications—and she sent a messenger down for news.

One day, back in the early days of her practice, she arrived very late for lunch because she had been urgently held up with a private patient. She was worried about a case in her small hospital—a surgical case that had developed medical complications—and she sent a messenger to get an update.

“Just sinking,” was the pencilled reply from the resident. “Dr.“Dr. —— and Dr. —— [the consultants] have been here, and have given her up. We have ceased to worry her with food.”

“Just sinking,” was the noted reply from the resident. “Dr.“Dr. —— and Dr. —— [the consultants] have been here and have given her up. We have stopped trying to feed her.”

“Ceased to worry her with food!” One saw the summer lightnings on S. J.-B.’s forehead. “Tell Charles to bring the brougham round immediately.” Within half an hour the beef-tea was being administered by her own hand; and there was no more talk of “not worrying the patient with food.” She was worried until she not only rallied, but got her foot on to the ladder of a slow and sure recovery, a recovery that 512meant just everything to the husband and children who were anxiously awaiting the mother’s return to the little home.

“Stop worrying her about food!” You could see the summer lightning on S. J.-B.’s forehead. “Tell Charles to bring the carriage around right away.” Within half an hour, she was personally serving the beef tea; and there was no more talk about “not bothering the patient with food.” She was so concerned that she didn’t just recover but started her slow and steady path to getting better, a recovery that 512 meant everything to the husband and kids who were anxiously waiting for their mother to come back to the little home.

As a neighbour and citizen S. J.-B. had certain outstanding qualités, which, with their corresponding défauts, have never tended to make the possessor of them universally popular. She considered it a public duty to uphold as far as lay in one person’s power the general standard of proper behaviour and efficiency in the community. She had no use for sluggards and shirkers. “Here’s the Doctor,—mind yersel’!” a cabman was heard to say when he and a gossiping mate had allowed their vehicles to sprawl right across the highroad just as the familiar pony-chaise came in sight. No postal service ever deteriorated in her vicinity. If lesser officials failed to listen, she appealed to the Postmaster-General, and she accomplished many minor reforms by which her neighbours profited as much as she did herself. Assuredly she was no grumbler, but she considered that those who make it their aim to slip smoothly through life, leaving to others all the irksome work of protesting, are—to say the least—acting an unheroic part. She agreed that all things come to him who waits,—and come through the exertions of those who have not been content merely to wait. The callow upstart official was apt to fare badly at her hands, but if the official happened to be an elderly woman at—say—some isolated country post office, one saw S. J.-B. at her best. She would steer the way gently and patiently through some simple transaction that seemed involved enough in those wilds; and, if she was met by a flash of interest and intelligence, her appreciation was great. “Why we’ll make you Postmaster-General!” she has been heard to say, leaving a beaming face behind her as she gathered up the reins and drove away,—a visitant indeed from another world.

As a neighbor and citizen, S. J.-B. had certain standout qualities that, along with their corresponding flaws, never made her universally liked. She saw it as her civic duty to uphold, as much as one person could, the general standard of proper behavior and efficiency in the community. She had no patience for lazy or irresponsible people. “Here’s the Doctor,—watch yourself!” a cab driver was overheard saying when he and a chatting friend had allowed their vehicles to block the road just as the familiar pony-chaise came into view. No postal service ever declined in her area. If lower officials ignored her, she appealed to the Postmaster-General and achieved many minor reforms that benefited her neighbors as much as herself. She certainly wasn’t a complainer, but she believed that those who aim to glide through life, leaving all the annoying work of protesting to others, are—at the very least—playing a less than heroic role. She agreed that all good things come to those who wait—but they come through the efforts of those who haven’t waited idly. The inexperienced young official often had a rough time with her, but if the official happened to be an older woman at, let’s say, some remote country post office, that’s when S. J.-B. shined the most. She would carefully and patiently guide someone through a simple transaction that seemed complicated in those wilds; and if she was met with any spark of interest and intelligence, she appreciated it greatly. “Why, we’ll make you Postmaster-General!” she has been heard to say, leaving a smiling face behind her as she picked up the reins and drove away—truly a visitor from another world.

513

CHAPTER VI
DRIVING TOURS. ANIMAL FRIENDS

All through the years of work and conflict, S. J.-B. had looked forward to her “Sabbatical year,” when, with a clear conscience, she could retire from active life, and share with others the rest and seclusion she longed for. As early as 1892 she had written to a cousin in New Zealand about a visit from her brother, who had been examining at Fettes:

All through the years of work and conflict, S. J.-B. had looked forward to her “Sabbatical year,” when, with a clear conscience, she could step back from active life and enjoy the rest and solitude she craved. As early as 1892, she had written to a cousin in New Zealand about a visit from her brother, who had been evaluating students at Fettes:

“Today he is gone south again. His life at Wells must be very quiet and restful after the hard work of Rugby.

“Today he is gone south again. His life at Wells must be very quiet and relaxing after the hard work at Rugby.

I am beginning to think that I must soon wind up my work and rest. I have worked about as hard as anybody could for more than thirty years, and I think I have almost done my share. There are young people coming up now to do the medical work,—we have about 130 women on the British Register,—in 1865 when I began to work there was only one!”

I’m starting to feel like it’s time for me to wrap up my work and take a break. I’ve put in as much effort as anyone could for more than thirty years, and I believe I’ve nearly done my part. There are young people stepping in to handle the medical work now—we have around 130 women on the British Register—compared to just one when I started back in 1865!

Some months later she seems to have written in the same vein to the old aunt in Norfolk, for Mrs. Gunton replies in a holograph letter of four beautifully-written pages:

Some months later, she appears to have written in a similar style to her old aunt in Norfolk because Mrs. Gunton responds with a handwritten letter consisting of four beautifully written pages:

“You must not talk of being tired with your occupation at present. Consider what a chicken you are! On the 11th of November I was 93.”

“You shouldn’t complain about being tired with your job right now. Think about how weak you are! I was 93 on November 11.”

How difficult to find any ground of comparison between those two lives, grown on the same stock, the one of 52 and the other of 93!

How hard it is to find any common ground between those two lives, stemming from the same origin, one at 52 and the other at 93!

The opening of the University degrees to women cleared the ground a good deal, but there were still three great difficulties in the way of retirement. The first was the Hospital. 514S. J.-B. was aware, as she had written to Dr. Pechey that it “never would develop in her tired hands,” but before passing it over to her juniors, she was anxious to use her name and influence for all they were worth in the way of raising money to constitute a small endowment, and justify building, or at least a removal to larger premises.premises. “The one thing that I do long for still,” she wrote, “is to see a thoroughly good Women’s Hospital officered by women established in Edinburgh.”

The opening of university degrees to women made significant progress, but there were still three major challenges to retirement. The first was the Hospital. 514S. J.-B. knew, as she mentioned to Dr. Pechey, that it “would never thrive in her exhausted hands,” but before handing it off to her juniors, she wanted to use her name and influence to help raise funds for a small endowment, and justify building, or at least moving to larger premises.premises. “The one thing that I still really desire,” she wrote, “is to see a truly excellent Women’s Hospital run by women established in Edinburgh.”

On the whole it was hard work. She wrote many letters in vain, but, little by little, she gathered a few thousands: and there were, as usual, some pleasant surprises by the way. Her old friend, Mrs. Arthur, when asked for £100, promptly responded with a cheque for £500, and some of those who gave little gave with a few words of gratitude and appreciation that lifted the gift quite out of the region of shillings and pounds.

Overall, it was hard work. She wrote many letters without success, but gradually, she collected a few thousand. As always, there were some nice surprises along the way. Her old friend, Mrs. Arthur, when asked for £100, quickly sent a check for £500, and some of those who gave small amounts did so with kind words of thanks and appreciation that made the gift feel much more significant than just money.

A greater obstacle, perhaps, than the Hospital was the sheer difficulty of winding up and getting away. S. J.-B. had begun life as an early Victorian girl with an exceptionally strong hereditary tendency to store and treasure all sorts of things great and small. Almost in the twinkling of an eye she became a modern woman with a correspondence that ran to dozens—sometimes hundreds—of letters in a day,—a modern woman with no leisure at all for the always distasteful work of weeding out and destroying. She was always giving, but she never seemed to give away the things of which she would be well rid. Moreover she always did things on a massive, great-spirited scale. If a number of copies of any document were wanted, it was better to get it printed,—and, if you were getting it printed, it was safer and cheaper to get 500 or 1000 copies while the type was up. You never knew how important that particular document might become. If any article was nearly worn out, buy a new one by all means,—but keep the old one too in case the new one should break down.

A bigger challenge, maybe, than the Hospital was the hassle of packing up and leaving. S. J.-B. started life as an early Victorian girl with a strong family trait for hoarding all kinds of things, big and small. In the blink of an eye, she turned into a modern woman dealing with dozens—sometimes hundreds—of letters every day, a modern woman with no time at all for the tedious task of sorting through and tossing stuff out. She was always giving, but she never seemed to part with the things she really should get rid of. Plus, she always went big with her actions. If you needed several copies of a document, it was better to print it, and if you were going to print it, it was safer and cheaper to get 500 or 1000 copies while the type was set. You never knew how important that document might turn out to be. If something was getting worn out, definitely buy a new one, but keep the old one just in case the new one breaks.

And so it came about that in her roomy old house, with its spacious attics and cellars, things were stored and stacked and forgotten until their volume was almost incredible to those who had not seen it.

And so it happened that in her large old house, with its big attics and basements, things were stored, piled up, and forgotten until their quantity was almost unbelievable to those who hadn't seen it.

515And finally there was the great question where to settle. She never lost her love for Edinburgh, and she was often tempted to choose a house on the outskirts. On the other hand, she had always dreamed of growing figs and peaches on a sunny south wall in her beloved native county of Sussex: and how was she to find just the right house in Sussex? So the time slipped away, and she had one illness after another, and it often seemed to those nearest her as if the Sabbatical year would be spent on the other Side of the River.

515And finally there was the big question of where to settle down. She never stopped loving Edinburgh, and she was often tempted to pick a house on the outskirts. On the flip side, she had always dreamed of growing figs and peaches on a sunny south wall in her beloved home county of Sussex: but how was she supposed to find just the right house in Sussex? So time slipped by, and she faced one illness after another, and it often seemed to those closest to her that the Sabbatical year would be spent on the other Side of the River.

She took holidays more and more frequently, however, and rejoiced increasingly in the work of those who took her place. “My daughters,” “my girls,” “my young doctors,”—how proudly she used to say it! Her face the day five of them were “capped” at the University was a thing to be seen. And if she was an absolutely un-self-sparing worker, she knew better than most how to make holiday; indeed her holidays were as characteristic as everything else she did and was. She hated publicity, hated the noise and bustle of trains, so a driving-tour was her ideal of happiness and refreshment. Her chaise had been specially built for the purpose, with space in front of the dash-board to accommodate two small valises, abundant room under the seats, and other incidental conveniences that one only discovered by degrees. Little by little she had made a fine art of her preparations. The list of compact necessaries was always at hand, and the so-called “work-box” alone contained in a condensed form resources for emergencies of all descriptions. The groom had his own kit behind, and woe betide him if his tools were not at hand when a shoe came loose or a nut needed screwing up.

She started taking vacations more often and enjoyed the work of those who filled in for her even more. “My daughters,” “my girls,” “my young doctors”—she used to say it with so much pride! The look on her face the day five of them graduated from the University was unforgettable. And while she was an incredibly dedicated worker, she knew how to enjoy her time off better than most. Her holidays were as unique as everything else about her. She despised crowds and the noise of trains, so a driving tour was her idea of happiness and relaxation. Her car was specially designed for this purpose, with space in front for two small suitcases, plenty of room under the seats, and other little conveniences that you only discovered over time. Little by little, she turned her trip preparations into an art form. She always had her list of essential items handy, and her so-called “work box” was packed with supplies for all kinds of emergencies. The groom had his own kit in the back, and he better have his tools ready when a horseshoe came loose or a nut needed tightening.

The strain of packing was apt to be considerable for everyone concerned, and it lasted for the first mile or two of the journey. Then gradually it melted away. She would draw a deep breath and give herself up to the delightful sense of freedom. “Oh, isn’t it good to be away!” “It seemed yesterday as if we never should get off.”

The stress of packing was likely heavy for everyone involved, and it persisted for the first mile or two of the trip. Then it slowly faded. She would take a deep breath and allow herself to enjoy the wonderful feeling of freedom. “Oh, isn’t it great to be away!” “It felt like just yesterday that we’d never manage to leave.”

She always elected to go for the first night or two, if possible, to an inn she knew. She asked so little, but it had to be just the particular little that she wanted. No “much” could take the place of that.

She always chose to stay at an inn she knew for the first night or two, if she could. She asked for so little, but it had to be exactly what she wanted. Nothing else could replace that.

516“Thank you, that is very nice,” she would say breezily, after surveying the rooms in some unknown inn where she hoped to stay for more than a night. “Now will you open the windows, and give us both some more towels and one or two little tables, and take away the ornaments in the sitting-room. We want room for our books.”

516 “Thanks, that’s really nice,” she would say casually, after looking around the rooms in some unfamiliar inn where she hoped to stay for more than a night. “Could you please open the windows, and bring us some more towels and a couple of small tables, and remove the decorations in the living room? We need space for our books.”

Sometimes the people were aghast, but much, much more often they entered into the spirit of the thing and gave her just what she wanted. She had a great knack of carrying them with her. She was so easy-going in most ways, “because of course,” as she used to explain, “one is not responsible for inn servants as one is for one’s own.” And some few inns became to her a real haven of refuge,—Rumbling Bridge, under old Mrs. Macara; Fortingal, in the old days, under Mr. and Mrs. Menzies; and—above all latterly—(under Mrs. Beattie), her beloved Gordon Arms at Yarrow where she and Miss Du Pre had perforce taken refuge one day in a storm, little thinking what a sanctuary it was often to prove.

Sometimes people were shocked, but much more often they got into the spirit of things and gave her exactly what she wanted. She had a real talent for getting them on her side. She was pretty laid-back in most ways, “because, of course,” as she would explain, “you’re not responsible for inn staff like you are for your own.” A few inns became a true refuge for her—Rumbling Bridge with the old Mrs. Macara; Fortingal back in the day, with Mr. and Mrs. Menzies; and—most importantly lately—(under Mrs. Beattie), her beloved Gordon Arms at Yarrow, where she and Miss Du Pre had to take shelter one day during a storm, not realizing what a sanctuary it would often turn out to be.

“Yarrow, with all its snows and storms, has answered splendidly for both of us,” she writes to Miss Du Pre in April 1896, “and we shall return on Saturday much refreshed and strengthened. I have been walking a good deal as well as driving. There seems something specially restful about this country,—and this inn is as good as old Fortingal, in rather a different way.”

“Yarrow, with all its snow and storms, has been wonderful for both of us,” she writes to Miss Du Pre in April 1896, “and we’ll be returning on Saturday feeling much refreshed and recharged. I’ve been walking a lot as well as driving. There’s something particularly calming about this area—and this inn is just as nice as old Fortingal, though in a different way.”

The showy inn where one got no real comforts and where the cooking was bad, was of course the object of her special detestation.

The flashy inn that offered no real comforts and had terrible food was, of course, the one she despised the most.

Many times she drove all over Perthshire; she went as far north as Loch Maree, and, on one occasion at least, she drove all the way from Brighton to Edinburgh arriving, by the way, to find a patient on the door-step, and that patient a dowager countess! As a rule the horse and chaise were put on the train from Carlisle to Rugby.

Many times she drove all over Perthshire; she went as far north as Loch Maree, and, on at least one occasion, she drove all the way from Brighton to Edinburgh, arriving to find a patient on the doorstep—a dowager countess! Usually, the horse and carriage were put on the train from Carlisle to Rugby.

And the woods and hills seemed the very home of her spirit. More than anything else they brought the poetry to her lips,—Whittier’s My Psalm very frequently in later years,—she did so love those “robes of praise”—and his Autograph too,—

And the woods and hills felt like the true home of her spirit. More than anything else, they inspired poetry in her, often bringing Whittier’s My Psalm to her lips in later years—she loved those “robes of praise”—and his Autograph too,—

“Hater of din and riot,

He lived in days unquiet—”

517But always most frequently of all, perhaps, Mrs. Browning’s couplet,—

517But perhaps most often of all, it's Mrs. Browning’s couplet,—

“The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number,

And silent shadows from the trees refreshed him like a slumber.”

Of course there were hardships to be faced too,—as one reckoned hardships in those days! Often the rain came down in sheets when one was half way across a shelterless mountain pass; or one drove unexpectedly into deeper and deeper snow till it even happened that the groom had to borrow a spade from a neighbouring cottage, and dig a way out of the drift. Not infrequently night came on before a suitable inn had been found,—for it is by no means every country inn that has stabling,—let alone a lock-up coach-house,—and one drove mile after mile with a tired horse and diminishing hopes.

Of course, there were challenges to deal with too—considering what challenges meant back then! Often, the rain would pour down in sheets when you were halfway across a mountain pass without shelter; or you could suddenly find yourself driving into deeper and deeper snow until it even happened that the groom had to borrow a shovel from a nearby cottage and dig a way out of the drift. Many times, night would fall before a decent inn was found—because not every country inn has stables, much less a secure coach house—and you’d be driving mile after mile with a exhausted horse and waning hopes.

In all such minor emergencies the indomitable spirit rose to meet the occasion. One well nigh forgot the ageing woman and saw only the gallant-hearted boy. She loved driving across a ford, though in some of the Highland rivers it is highly desirable, if not necessary, to know the lie of the ground beneath, and to choose just the right détour or zig-zag.

In all those little emergencies, the unstoppable spirit came through. One almost forgot the older woman and only saw the brave-hearted boy. She loved to drive across a ford, although in some of the Highland rivers it’s really important, if not essential, to know the ground beneath and to pick just the right detour or zig-zag.

In the neighbourhood of Woking one day when the floods were out, she stopped to ask the way, and was informed that the route she proposed to take was under water and dangerous. It would have been awkward to change plans at that stage, so S. J.-B. drove on, though the water gradually rose above the axles.

In the Woking area one day when the floods were happening, she stopped to ask for directions and was told that the route she intended to take was underwater and risky. Changing her plans at that point would have been inconvenient, so S. J.-B. continued driving, even as the water slowly rose above the axles.

Presently a meek voice was heard from the groom behind. “He said it was dangerous.” But S. J.-B. did not hear.

Presently, a soft voice came from the groom behind. “He said it was dangerous.” But S. J.-B. didn't hear.

She was never foolhardy, but she did love the off-chance of an adventure, and there would have been danger often if her nerve had given way, or if she had not had a thorough understanding with her horse. In the moment of emergency one saw what excellent comrades they were. She knew how to get the last ounce of pluck and endurance out of him in case of need.

She was never reckless, but she did enjoy the chance of an adventure, and there would often have been danger if she had lost her nerve or if she hadn’t had a solid understanding with her horse. In moments of crisis, it was clear what great teammates they were. She knew how to squeeze out every bit of courage and stamina from him when it was necessary.

It was all made up to him when the strain was over! That hot mash on reaching the inn was the first thing thought of, 518and on a trying day there was always a snack of some sort for the groom before the inn was reached, so that the thought of his own supper might not bulk too largely in his general view of life and duty.

It all seemed worth it to him when the stress was over! That hot meal upon arriving at the inn was the first thing on his mind, 518and on a tough day, there was always some kind of snack for the groom before they got to the inn, so he wouldn't focus too much on his own dinner in the grand scheme of life and responsibilities.

She was the friend of all her horses, and was never happy with one that failed to respond. Blinkers and bearing-reins were an abomination to her. She even objected to brass, and refused to use the smart be-crested harness that came to her from her father’s stable.

She was friends with all her horses and was never happy with one that didn’t respond. Blinkers and bearing-reins were unacceptable to her. She even disliked brass and refused to use the fancy be-crested harness that came from her father’s stable.

Her first favourite was White Angel, a pony. Professor Wilson had helped her to choose him for a driving-tour in her student days. She hired him several times and finally bought him. When she was at Berne for her degree, he lived in her Mother’s stable at Brighton. “Angel and Turk send their duty,” Mrs. Jex-Blake used to write. “Master Turk says, ‘Very dull Christmas without Missis. He don’t think much of Switzerland.’”

Her first favorite was White Angel, a pony. Professor Wilson helped her choose him for a driving tour during her student days. She rented him several times and eventually bought him. When she was in Berne for her degree, he stayed in her mother's stable in Brighton. “Angel and Turk send their regards,” Mrs. Jex-Blake would write. “Master Turk says, ‘Very dull Christmas without Missus. He doesn’t think much of Switzerland.’”

White Angel was badly named,—he was a lovable creature, but far more of a sprite than an angel. There was never any harm in his mischief, and she used to recount his pranks with the greatest delight. Above all things he hated to be beaten. Going up Corstorphine Hill, he would not allow even a pair of horses to pass him. He would allow them to come close up, and then he would throw up his heels and race to the top as if the chaise had been a nut-shell. And she enjoyed his spirit far too much to check him.

White Angel was poorly named—he was a lovable creature, but much more of a sprite than an angel. There was never any harm in his mischief, and she would tell stories of his pranks with great delight. Above all, he hated to be beaten. Climbing Corstorphine Hill, he wouldn’t let even a pair of horses pass him. He would let them get close, and then he’d kick up his heels and race to the top as if the carriage were a toy. And she enjoyed his spirit too much to hold him back.

He continued this practice up to a period of life when most creatures place comfort above such expensive luxuries; but there came a time when he had to give in. Then, as he heard younger hoofs gaining on him, he would turn his head with great dignity and look the other way, refusing to see that he was being outdone.

He kept doing this until a time in life when most animals prioritize comfort over such costly luxuries; but eventually, he had to give in. Then, as he heard younger hooves catching up to him, he would turn his head with great dignity and look the other way, refusing to acknowledge that he was being surpassed.

Very early in the days of practice, Blackbird came to reinforce him, replacing a smarter, more troublesome horse whom S. J.-B. passed on to Dr. Pechey: and on the whole Blackbird was her dearest horse friend. He was such a gentleman, so willing to coöperate with her, and if necessary to exert himself only too much on those occasional long days in the Highlands. She never could see that he was growing 519old and ceasing to be a credit to her,—indeed she seldom could see that of anything she had cared for. No flower that had brightened her writing-table was allowed to spend its last hour on an ash-heap. So Blackbird remained king of the stable, doing an occasional easy job, till the remonstrances of S. J.-B.’s friends prevailed against even that, and he was lent to a farmer friend to fill an easy place in the country.

Very early in her practice, Blackbird came to support her, replacing a smarter, more challenging horse that S. J.-B. passed on to Dr. Pechey. Overall, Blackbird was her favorite horse companion. He was such a gentleman, always willing to cooperate with her, and if needed, he would put in extra effort during those long days in the Highlands. She never noticed that he was getting old and becoming less impressive, just like she rarely recognized it about anything else she cared for. No flower that had brightened her writing desk was allowed to wilt away in the trash. So, Blackbird remained the king of the stable, taking on some easy tasks, until the protests from S. J.-B.’s friends eventually led to him being lent to a farmer friend for an easy role in the countryside.

Everyone meant well and kindly, but the farmer lent him after a time to a less soft-hearted dairyman, and one day when S. J.-B. went out to visit her old friend, she found him rheumatic and broken-kneed and lean. She said scarcely a word, but asked to be left with him in the stable. She had taken out a feed of beans, Blackbird’s special weakness, and she gave him the feeding-bag herself,—then put her arms round his neck and sobbed.

Everyone had good intentions, but eventually the farmer gave him to a less compassionate dairyman, and one day when S. J.-B. went to see her old friend, she found him suffering from rheumatism, with a broken knee and looking thin. She barely said anything, but asked to be alone with him in the stable. She had brought some beans, which were Blackbird’s favorite treat, and she filled the feeding bag herself—then wrapped her arms around his neck and cried.

A day or two later Blackbird went to whatever place is reserved for such good and faithful friends.

A day or two later, Blackbird went to whatever place is set aside for such loyal and faithful friends.

There was Austral, too, the favourite of her later years,—a gentleman in every sense of the word,—his father and mother both in the Australian stud-book. The father was Oxford, the mother Uproarious, and the colt had been cleverly named Undergraduate. It was S. J.-B. who changed his name: she probably thought it inappropriate to a horse of eight or nine years; and indeed it was a word that for her was too full of associations.

There was Austral, too, the favorite of her later years—a gentleman in every sense of the word—his parents both listed in the Australian stud book. His dad was Oxford, his mom was Uproarious, and the colt had been cleverly named Undergraduate. It was S. J.-B. who changed his name; she probably thought it was unsuitable for a horse of eight or nine years old, and indeed it was a word that held too many associations for her.

No other animal came anywhere near horses in her estimation. Cats she disliked. In the old student days she had gone to see Miss Pechey at the home of the lady whose children were fortunate enough to have her for their governess. In the course of dinner, a spoiled and cherished family cat leapt gently on to the table, coming between S. J.-B. and the person to whom she was talking. Without stopping to think, S. J.-B. put out her arm and brushed the cat on to the floor.

No other animal even came close to horses in her opinion. She didn’t like cats. Back in her student days, she had visited Miss Pechey at the home of a woman whose children were lucky enough to have her as their governess. During dinner, a pampered and adored family cat jumped onto the table, placing itself between S. J.-B. and the person she was talking to. Without thinking, S. J.-B. extended her arm and pushed the cat off the table onto the floor.

When, some thirty years later, she was recalling how she had wondered whether so pretty a girl as Miss Pechey could have nerve enough to study medicine, and how she had been informed by one who knew that the pretty girl was “calm as an ox,” Mrs. Pechey Phipson grimly intervened,—“I assure 520you I was anything but calm when you swept that cat on to the floor!”

When, about thirty years later, she was remembering how she had wondered if such a pretty girl as Miss Pechey could have the guts to study medicine, and how she had been told by someone who knew that the pretty girl was “calm as an ox,” Mrs. Pechey Phipson grimly interrupted, “I can assure you I was anything but calm when you knocked that cat onto the floor!”

S. J.-B. laughed. And her laugh was a thing to hear,—especially when the old jokes and the old stories were recalled,—a hearty musical laugh that brought such wholesome tears to her eyes, and that would not allow her face to set into really tragic lines.

S. J.-B. laughed. And her laugh was something to hear—especially when the old jokes and stories came up—a warm, musical laugh that brought genuine tears to her eyes and kept her face from settling into truly tragic lines.

But there is something more to be said about her dislike to cats. After lunch at Bruntsfield Lodge, it was her custom to gather up the bits of bread that were left and take them out to the lawn to feed the birds. She loved to see the creatures flying towards her the moment she appeared, and no cat was ever tolerated in the grounds.

But there's more to her dislike of cats. After lunch at Bruntsfield Lodge, she would collect the leftover bits of bread and take them out to the lawn to feed the birds. She loved watching the creatures flocking towards her as soon as she showed up, and no cat was ever allowed on the property.

One evening in early summer, when she came in from her work to a high-walled garden all shimmering with promise, a half-grown kitten stood in the way. “Shoo!” said S. J.-B. “Go away! Who allowed that cat to be here?”

One evening in early summer, when she walked in from her work to a high-walled garden all shimmering with promise, a half-grown kitten was in the way. “Shoo!” said S. J.-B. “Go away! Who let that cat be here?”

Everyone trembled,—except the little intruder. It looked S. J.-B. full in the face, and held its ground.

Everyone was shaking—except for the little intruder. It stared S. J.-B. right in the face and stood its ground.

Of course it was turned out, but a few days later she saw it in the same place, leaping at a moth in the sunshine. And that time nothing was said.

Of course it was gone, but a few days later she saw it in the same spot, leaping at a moth in the sunlight. And this time, nothing was said.

And a few days later still, when she had passed beyond the garden into the house, the kitten walked forward to meet her. This really was too much; but when she protested, the kitten simply looked in her face and smiled.

And a few days later, when she had moved from the garden into the house, the kitten came over to meet her. This was honestly too much; but when she complained, the kitten just looked up at her and smiled.

So it was allowed to remain under due restrictions, until one night S. J.-B. was awakened by a loud sneeze. She struck a light, and there, on the shoulder of the sofa at the foot of her bed, calmly reposing on a big woollen shawl, with its eyes fixed on her in gentle protest against the open window, was the kitten.

So it was allowed to stay with certain limitations, until one night S. J.-B. was woken up by a loud sneeze. She lit a match, and there, on the arm of the sofa at the foot of her bed, comfortably resting on a large wool blanket, with its eyes on her in a soft protest against the open window, was the kitten.

It was simply uncanny. Of course it was only a kitten, but to S. J.-B. it was always more. “It must have known me in a previous incarnation,” she said. So she called it Karma, and before many days were over it was a favoured and lovable member of the household, taking all sorts of liberties in the most attractive way, and even lying unforbidden on her lap. “Li’l cat!” she used to say affectionately.

It was just strange. Sure, it was only a kitten, but to S. J.-B., it was so much more. “It must have known me in a past life,” she said. So she named it Karma, and before long, it became a beloved and cherished member of the household, taking all kinds of liberties in the most charming way, even lying freely on her lap. “Little cat!” she would say with affection.

521There is one more animal friend worth recalling, though pedigree and admirers he had none,—the Nameless Dog at Bordighera.

521There’s one more animal friend to mention, even though he had no pedigree or admirers—the Nameless Dog at Bordighera.

S. J.-B. had gone to Bordighera in the winter of 1897-98 with a friend who had been ill, and greatly did she enjoy the almost unfailing sunshine. She seldom made acquaintances under such conditions, but two delightful Irish ladies proved irresistible, and a pleasant partie carrée was the result. Every day S. J.-B. used to walk with one or other of her friends through the unlovely main street and sit for hours on the rocks at the Cap, watching the waves tumbling about on that fine bit of coast.

S. J.-B. went to Bordighera in the winter of 1897-98 with a friend who was unwell, and she really enjoyed the almost constant sunshine. She usually didn't make new friends in such situations, but two charming Irish ladies were simply irresistible, resulting in a delightful square party. Every day, S. J.-B. would walk with one of her friends along the unattractive main street and spend hours on the rocks at the Cap, watching the waves crash on that beautiful stretch of coast.

One day, in passing through the somewhat squalid town, she was stopped by a brawl among a few dogs,—a poor half-starved pariah was being set upon and robbed of some morsel it had contrived to pick up. Never was a more unwholesome-looking object than that dog,—with a coat utterly out of condition,—wounds in every stage of refusal to heal,—and an eye so mauled and battered that only a sanguine prognosis could have associated it with the idea of any special function in the future. The poor wretch showed no fight, but slunk away as soon as its tormentors would let it go,—a pitiful craven, utterly beaten in the struggle for life.

One day, while walking through the somewhat rundown town, she was halted by a fight among a few dogs—a poor, half-starved stray was getting attacked and robbed of a scrap it had managed to find. No dog ever looked more unhealthy than that one—with a coat completely out of shape—wounds that refused to heal—and an eye so damaged and bruised that only a very optimistic view could suggest it would have any useful purpose in the future. The poor creature didn’t fight back but slinked away as soon as its tormentors allowed it to go—a pitiful coward, completely defeated in the struggle for survival.

Next day it was seen again, slinking about in some bye-way, afraid of everyone who came near. Of course S. J.-B. had a crust in her pocket, and of course the dog got that crust, in spite of rivals and in spite of its own groundless fears. Next day it was looking out, and from that day the crust never failed. Little by little the natural vitality of the creature began to gain ground; he became something like a dog, and able to hold his own. His wounds healed, and he soon could forage a bit for himself; but he never forgot to look out for S. J.-B., and he never refused her crust. He began to walk with her to the Cap, and to lie at a respectful distance till she was ready to go home.

The next day, it was spotted again, sneaking around in a back alley, scared of anyone who came close. Naturally, S. J.-B. had a piece of bread in her pocket, and of course, the dog got that bread, despite the competition and its own unfounded fears. The following day, it was looking out for her, and from that day on, the bread never ran out. Slowly, the creature's natural energy started to come back; he became more dog-like and could stand up for himself. His wounds healed, and soon he could find some food on his own; but he never forgot to keep an eye out for S. J.-B., and he always accepted her bread. He started to walk with her to the Cap and lay down at a respectful distance until she was ready to head home.

One day when she was confined to the house, he appeared on the steps of the hotel. The waiter of course gave him a greeting that in former times would have driven him well on the road to San Remo; but now he held his ground. “What 522on earth does he want?” said the man. “Oh,” said one of the others, “it’s Miss Blake’s dog.” At that moment S. J.-B. came downstairs to déjeuner. She fetched him half her roll from the dining-room, and the waiters might grumble as they pleased.

One day when she was stuck at home, he showed up on the steps of the hotel. The waiter naturally greeted him with a warmth that would have easily sent him on his way to San Remo in the past; but now he stood his ground. “What on earth does he want?” the man asked. “Oh,” replied one of the others, “it’s Miss Blake’s dog.” At that moment, S. J.-B. came downstairs for brunch. She brought him half of her roll from the dining room, and the waiters could grumble all they wanted.

From that time the dog formally constituted himself her body-guard, and quite a creditable body-guard he was, with two good keen eyes always on the look-out, and a coat worth wearing. He had positively acquired a “presence.” He waited for her every day at the hotel gate, and he walked proudly in front of her to the Cap. No other dog dared to come near. No beggar ventured to molest. The very purveyors of inlaid jewellery had to keep their distance.

From that time on, the dog officially became her bodyguard, and he was quite a respectable one, with two sharp eyes always on the lookout and a coat worth showing off. He had developed a noticeable “presence.” He waited for her every day at the hotel gate and proudly walked in front of her to the Cap. No other dog dared to come close. No beggar dared to bother her. Even the sellers of inlaid jewelry had to keep their distance.

At last—just before she left the Riviera—the Nameless Dog secured a large bit of strongly smelling fish. There would have been a free fight for it in the early days, but no other dog disputed his possession of it now. He can’t have been overfed, poor fellow, even then; but he brought his coveted trophy to S. J.-B. in triumph, and laid it at her feet.

At last—just before she left the Riviera—the Nameless Dog managed to grab a big piece of strongly smelling fish. There would have been a fierce competition for it in the early days, but no other dog challenged his claim on it now. He couldn't have been well-fed, poor guy, even back then; but he proudly brought his prized catch to S. J.-B. and laid it at her feet.

I am afraid he missed her horribly, and of course she could not explain to him and say Goodbye,—as no doubt she did to Blackbird. But she left behind a creature able to stand on his own legs, and show a brave face to the world: I am not sure that she didn’t leave behind the germ of a soul.

I’m afraid he missed her a lot, and of course she couldn’t explain anything to him or say goodbye—like she probably did with Blackbird. But she left behind someone who could stand on his own and face the world bravely: I’m not sure she didn’t leave behind the spark of a soul.

And, while this little story is scrupulously true, it tells in a humble parable many episodes in the life of S. J.-B. that were known to very few.

And, while this short story is completely true, it shares in a simple parable many events in the life of S. J.-B. that were known to very few.

523

CHAPTER VII
THE SABBATICAL YEAR

It was that winter at Bordighera that gave her strength and energy for the final uprooting. The autumn of 1898-99 was spent on a driving tour of 1100 miles through the S.E. counties of England in search of a suitable house. She set about the search in her usual business-like way,—pasting into a book all the likely houses from the agents’ lists, rejecting at a sweep all within ten miles of London, all above or below a certain price and acreage, all that fell short of the desired level above the sea, all that were in a town, or that advertised their proximity to a railway station. The tour was then planned to include as many as possible of those that remained.

It was that winter in Bordighera that gave her the strength and energy for the final move. The autumn of 1898-99 was spent on a road trip of 1,100 miles through the southeast counties of England in search of a suitable house. She approached the search in her typical efficient manner—pasting all the potential houses from the agents’ lists into a book, quickly eliminating all those within ten miles of London, all that were above or below a certain price and size, all that didn’t meet the desired elevation above sea level, all that were in a town, or that advertised their closeness to a train station. The tour was then planned to include as many of the remaining options as possible.

There were a few unusual disqualifications. One house that attracted her belonged to the Rector of the parish, who refused to let to a Roman Catholic or a dissenter, and, although S. J.-B. was neither, she did not wish to be subjected to any test. Another house—more strangely still—was only to be let to someone who would carry on the evangelistic meetings in an out-building. “What if I were to take the house and preach Buddhism?” she said.

There were a few strange disqualifications. One house that caught her interest belonged to the parish rector, who wouldn’t rent to a Roman Catholic or someone who didn’t conform, and even though S. J.-B. was neither, she didn’t want to deal with any kind of test. Another house—more oddly—was only available for someone who would host evangelistic meetings in a separate building. “What if I rented the house and preached Buddhism?” she said.

Finally she decided on the house which she afterwards named Windydene, near the village of Mark Cross, on the Forest Ridge of Sussex, some five or six miles south of Tunbridge Wells. “It is neither a new or an old house,” she wrote to her friend, Miss Keily,—“built probably some 50 years ago,—very comfortable and airy, and with pleasant garden and shrubberies, a good kitchen garden 524(much neglected of late) and about 8 acres for pasture and hay.”

Finally, she chose a house that she later named Windydene, located near the village of Mark Cross, on the Forest Ridge of Sussex, about five or six miles south of Tunbridge Wells. “It’s not a new house or an old one,” she wrote to her friend, Miss Keily, “probably built about 50 years ago—very comfortable and airy, with a nice garden and shrubs, a decent kitchen garden (which has been neglected lately), and around 8 acres for pasture and hay.” 524

Having put various negotiations and alterations in train, she returned to Edinburgh for the final winding-up.

Having initiated various negotiations and changes, she returned to Edinburgh to finalize everything.

And there was much in those last months that lingered pleasantly in her memory. In June 1898 the British Medical Association had met in Edinburgh, and S. J.-B., like most other doctors, had kept open house. Some thirty medical women were present at the meeting, and, before it broke up, Dr. Jane Walker organized a dinner under the presidency of the old Edinburgh pioneer. Mrs. Garrett Anderson and Mrs. Scharlieb were among the guests. As always, S. J.-B. spoke very happily, and a number of those present got for the first time something like a just impression of her personality.

And there was a lot from those last months that stayed nicely in her memory. In June 1898, the British Medical Association met in Edinburgh, and S. J.-B., like many other doctors, hosted a gathering. About thirty female medical professionals attended the meeting, and before it ended, Dr. Jane Walker arranged a dinner with the old Edinburgh pioneer as the guest of honor. Mrs. Garrett Anderson and Mrs. Scharlieb were among the attendees. As always, S. J.-B. spoke very cheerfully, and many of those there got a much clearer sense of her personality for the first time.

Early in 1899 a Farewell Reception was given in her honour by the Committee of her Hospital, and some happy inspiration made the occasion not only a social success, but a gathering of unique interest. The majority of the large company were in evening dress, but the Dispensary patients were encouraged to look upon the Reception as their affair too, and they came in what dress they had. Moreover, it was no mere “meeting,” it was a real “party,” with refreshments galore in a side room, and no compulsion to listen to more speeches than one was in a mood for. The Marchioness of Bute, President of the Hospital, who was ill, was represented by one of the Vice-Presidents, Lady Helen Munro Ferguson. Lady Victoria Campbell made a point of being present, as did the Countess of Moray, and many patients, colleagues and allies of all sorts.

Early in 1899, a Farewell Reception was held in her honor by the Hospital Committee, and a happy idea made the event not only a social success but also a gathering of special significance. Most of the large group were dressed in evening attire, but the Dispensary patients were encouraged to see the Reception as their event too, and they came in whatever clothes they had. Moreover, it wasn’t just a “meeting”; it was truly a “party,” with plenty of refreshments in a side room and no pressure to listen to more speeches than one felt like. The Marchioness of Bute, the President of the Hospital, was unwell and represented by one of the Vice-Presidents, Lady Helen Munro Ferguson. Lady Victoria Campbell made a point to attend, as did the Countess of Moray, along with many patients, colleagues, and supporters of all kinds.

It was Professor Masson who moved the resolution of the evening:

It was Professor Masson who put forward the resolution for the evening:

“That this company, remembering all that has been done by Dr. Jex-Blake so preëminently for the medical education of women, and for the opening up of the medical profession to women, both here and elsewhere, take this opportunity of congratulating her on the present evidence of the success everywhere of the cause which owes so much to her powerful initiation and persevering advocacy; and regrets that the occasion should also be one of farewell.”

“That this company, remembering everything that Dr. Jex-Blake has done so exceptionally for the medical education of women and for opening up the medical profession to women, both here and elsewhere, takes this opportunity to congratulate her on the current evidence of the success of the cause that owes so much to her strong initiation and tireless advocacy; and regrets that this occasion must also be one of farewell.”

525Dr. Balfour felt inclined, he said, to quote the words of the old song:

525Dr. Balfour said he felt like quoting the words of the old song:

“Dost thou remember, comrade old and hoary,
The days we fought and conquered side by side
On fields of battle, famous now in story?”

He indicated apologetically that the words were not wholly appropriate, but S. J.-B. speedily set his mind at rest on that score. She felt old and hoary enough.

He apologized, saying the words weren’t entirely appropriate, but S. J.-B. quickly reassured him on that point. She felt old and worn out enough.

Dr. Peel Ritchie recalled how he had begun to help the women students simply from love of fair play, with no enthusiasm at all for the cause, but how he had been gradually worked up to a warmer feeling and interest; and Dr. (afterwards Sir John) Sibbald confessed that he had taken no part in the old conflict at all; but acknowledged gladly that his original dislike to the whole thing had gradually given way as he had watched the life of the protagonist, with increasing admiration, appreciation and....”

Dr. Peel Ritchie remembered how he started to support the female students just because he believed in fairness, without any real passion for the cause. However, over time, he developed a stronger feeling and interest. Dr. (later Sir John) Sibbald admitted that he hadn’t participated in the past struggle at all, but he happily acknowledged that his initial dislike for the whole situation had slowly changed as he observed the life of the main supporter, with growing admiration, appreciation, and....

At that fine silence he left it.

At that peaceful silence, he left it.

A bouquet of roses was presented by Dr. Jessie Macgregor, one of the most brilliant of S. J.-B.’s students; and a basket of flowers by Winifred Beilby, daughter of a lady who had been a member of Committee for many years, and a patient from the first.

A bouquet of roses was given by Dr. Jessie Macgregor, one of S. J.-B.’s most talented students; and a basket of flowers from Winifred Beilby, daughter of a woman who had been on the Committee for many years and a patient from the beginning.

Yes, it was a great send-off, and S. J.-B. was simple-hearted enough to enjoy it all like a child.

Yes, it was a great farewell, and S. J.-B. was innocent enough to enjoy it all like a kid.

There were other tokens of recognition too,—among them a presentation from a great number of women doctors, and another from the Dispensary patients.

There were other signs of appreciation as well, including a gift from many women doctors and another from the patients of the Dispensary.

There is no doubt that Dr. Sibbald voiced the opinion of many in his tribute to S. J.-B. For years she had lived among the Edinburgh people, driving about in her quiet brougham or unpretentious pony-chaise, and retiring to the high-walled garden. In a way they could not but get to know her. They might like or dislike her, but she went on her way, doing her work absolutely without ostentation, welcoming publicity when it seemed likely to forward her aims or the welfare of the community, shunning it absolutely as a matter of private taste.

There’s no doubt that Dr. Sibbald expressed what many felt in his tribute to S. J.-B. For years, she had lived among the people of Edinburgh, driving around in her simple carriage or modest pony cart, and retreating to her secluded garden. In a way, they couldn’t help but get to know her. They might have liked her or disliked her, but she continued on her path, doing her work completely without showiness, welcoming attention when it could help her goals or benefit the community, but avoiding it entirely as a matter of personal preference.

526With most of these whose opinion was worth having, opposition and dislike were simply worn down. She was impulsive, she made mistakes and would do so to the end of her life: her naturally hasty temper and imperious disposition had been chastened indeed, but the chastening fire had been far too fierce to produce perfection. She held out at times about trifles,—failed to see that they were trifles—and at times she terrified people more than she knew. Above all she cared nothing for the praise and blame of any but those whom she respected or loved. Of her indeed it might be said that she heard the beat of a different drummer. But there was another side to the picture after all. Many of those who regretted and criticised details were yet forced to bow before the big transparent honesty, the fine unflinching consistency, of her life.

526With most people whose opinions really mattered, any opposition and dislike were eventually worn down. She was impulsive, she made mistakes, and she would continue to do so for the rest of her life; her naturally quick temper and commanding nature had been tempered, but the process had been too intense to create perfection. At times, she stubbornly held on to trivial matters—failing to realize they were trivial—and at times, she frightened people more than she was aware of. Above all, she didn’t care about the praise or criticism of anyone except those she respected or loved. It could be said of her that she marched to the beat of her own drum. But there was another aspect to consider. Many who regretted and criticized certain details still had to respect the clear honesty and unwavering consistency of her life.

“Yes, it was simply greatness.
There was nothing else I could say,
I had hedged my path more straitly,
But [hers] was the kinglier way.”

It remains only to give some picture of S. J.-B.’s life in retirement. Dr. Clouston had shaken his head when he heard what she proposed to do. It was a great risk to give up a life packed with work and interest for one of leisure.

It’s time to provide a glimpse into S. J.-B.’s life in retirement. Dr. Clouston had frowned when he heard what she planned to do. It was a huge risk to leave behind a life full of work and excitement for one of relaxation.

“I am not going to be idle,” she had said. “I am going to farm.”

“I’m not going to sit around,” she had said. “I’m going to farm.”

“Then you’ll lose a lot of money.”

“Then you’re going to lose a lot of money.”

“I can’t lose much on ten acres.”

“Ah!” He seemed to indicate that ten acres was not enough; but as a matter of fact S. J.-B. reaped now all the advantage of that love of detail which had so often proved a snare. “Windydene” had been unoccupied and more or less neglected for some time, so there was abundant scope for an enterprising “Squire.” And the situation was as choice as even the county of Sussex can provide. From the terrace one looked right across to the South Downs, and even Fairlight was supposed to be visible on a clear day. The garden had been ideally planned on ground that fell away rather steeply to the south. It had spacious lawns 527cunningly planted, some of the trees being of real value and beauty.

“Ah!” He seemed to suggest that ten acres wasn't enough; but in reality, S. J.-B. was benefiting from that love of detail which had often been a trap. “Windydene” had been empty and somewhat neglected for a while, so there was plenty of opportunity for a driven “Squire.” The location was as prime as anything the county of Sussex could offer. From the terrace, one could gaze all the way across to the South Downs, and on a clear day, even Fairlight was said to be visible. The garden was perfectly designed on land that sloped steeply to the south. It featured spacious lawns cleverly planted, with some of the trees being genuinely valuable and beautiful. 527

Beyond the lawns were shady paths and all sort of unexpected openings and surprises; and beyond these again were the meadows hedged with blackberries, and carpeted in spring with cowslip and ladies’ smock. From the meadows one passed through to the woods, and so to the whole billowy stretch of the Weald, with its varied foliage, its blue lights and chasing shadows, its lakes of white mist in the still summer mornings.

Beyond the lawns were shaded paths and all sorts of unexpected openings and surprises; and beyond those were the meadows surrounded by blackberries, and covered in spring with cowslip and ladies' smock. From the meadows, you could make your way to the woods, and then to the entire rolling expanse of the Weald, with its diverse foliage, its blue lights and shifting shadows, and its lakes of white mist in the calm summer mornings.

S. J.-B. had seen the place first in November. She actually took possession in May, when the red chestnuts were in bloom and the woods full of bluebells.

S. J.-B. first saw the place in November. She officially moved in May, when the red chestnuts were blooming and the woods were filled with bluebells.

“‘The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places’,” she said, “‘I have a goodly heritage’;” and the words were constantly on her lips till the end. Kipling’s “Sussex by the Sea” might have been written for her, so gratefully did she take possession of it.

“‘The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places,’” she said, “‘I have a goodly heritage;’” and those words were always on her lips until the end. Kipling’s “Sussex by the Sea” could have been written just for her, as she embraced it so wholeheartedly.

“Each to his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair ground—in a fair ground—
Yea, Sussex by the sea!”

Her first care was to institute a fruit garden, building a south wall and planting vines, figs, peaches, nectarines and apricots. In the course of a few years her strawberries in particular had acquired quite a reputation.

Her first priority was to create a fruit garden, putting up a south wall and planting vines, figs, peaches, nectarines, and apricots. After a few years, her strawberries, in particular, had gained quite a reputation.

She started a dairy too, and supervised it herself. It was a real joy to her to have cows in the paddock and to produce her own cream and butter. The hay-making and the harvest supper were great events in the year.

She also started a dairy and managed it herself. It brought her real joy to have cows in the pasture and to produce her own cream and butter. The hay-making and the harvest supper were big highlights of the year.

But long before she had got as far as this—before the house was more than tolerably straight after the great flitting—she was inviting guests to share the joys of the spring and summer. All through the later years of her life she had the intimate daily companionship she prized so generously, but her doors stood open always as of old. “Windydene is a Mecca,” one of the younger medical women said, and there were those to whom it was a Mecca and something more. From S. J.-B.’s old fellow-students down to some unknown girl graduate, they came from all parts of the world. We 528have seen what Dr. Lillie Saville thought of life at Windydene, and indeed Lady Jenkinson’s “soul and body, especially soul” often finds an echo. A woman doctor who met S. J.-B. first at that British Medical Association dinner in Edinburgh writes years later:

But long before she got to this point—before the house was more than reasonably tidy after the big move—she was inviting guests to enjoy the pleasures of spring and summer. Throughout the later years of her life, she cherished the close daily companionship she valued so much, yet her doors were always wide open, just like before. “Windydene is a Mecca,” said one of the younger female doctors, and for some, it was a Mecca and something beyond that. From S. J.-B.'s old classmates to some unknown female graduate, people came from all over the globe. We 528 have seen what Dr. Lillie Saville thought about life at Windydene, and indeed Lady Jenkinson’s “soul and body, especially soul” often finds a resonance. A woman doctor who first met S. J.-B. at that British Medical Association dinner in Edinburgh writes years later:

“Thinking it over, I see that the best new influence that came into my life during the last seven years was the Doctor’s young fresh interest, her enthusiasm, her breadth of mind, her spiritual force and faith, and her strong original wisdom.”

“Looking back, I realize that the best new influence that came into my life over the last seven years was the Doctor’s youthful, vibrant interest, her enthusiasm, her open-mindedness, her spiritual strength and faith, and her strong, original wisdom.”

But it was not only women doctors who came. Literary folk were guests too, and, above all, the old friends, whatever they had chanced to become. Miss Du Pre, Lady Jenkinson, Miss Catharine Eliott-Lockhart, Miss E. Cordery, Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. James Cordery, Mr. Phipson and Dr. Pechey Phipson, Mrs. (Dr.) Mears, and many others. The arrival of Dr. Agnes M‘Laren from her season’s practice on the Riviera was one of the events of the early summer; she always came by Newhaven and so to Crowborough, where S. J.-B. faithfully awaited her. A still earlier event in the year was the arrival of Miss Caroline Jex-Blake, “when the primroses were out,” and her joy in the meadows and woods was a thing that only those who knew her could conceive.

But it wasn’t just women doctors who showed up. There were literary folks among the guests as well, especially the old friends, no matter how much they had changed. Miss Du Pre, Lady Jenkinson, Miss Catharine Eliott-Lockhart, Miss E. Cordery, Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. James Cordery, Mr. Phipson and Dr. Pechey Phipson, Mrs. (Dr.) Mears, and many others were there. The arrival of Dr. Agnes M‘Laren from her seasonal practice on the Riviera was one of the highlights of early summer; she always came by Newhaven and then to Crowborough, where S. J.-B. eagerly awaited her. An even earlier event that year was the arrival of Miss Caroline Jex-Blake, “when the primroses were out,” and her delight in the meadows and woods was something only those who really knew her could understand.

Little enough entertainment in the ordinary sense was offered to the guests at any time. Breakfast in bed was an unfailing institution for tired workers, and most of the guests were tired workers. There was fruit and cream to heart’s content and beyond it; there were long leisurely drives uphill and down dale through that beautiful country,^[158]—plenty of chess for those who were worthy of chess,—unforgettable evenings round the study fire; and at all other times—stated meals apart—an almost unlimited choice of books,—and liberty to do as one pleased.

There wasn't much entertainment in the usual sense for the guests at any time. Breakfast in bed was a consistent treat for tired workers, and most of the guests were indeed tired workers. There was an abundance of fruit and cream; long, relaxing drives through the beautiful countryside; plenty of chess for those who were up for it; unforgettable evenings by the study fire; and at all other times—aside from the scheduled meals—an almost endless selection of books, along with the freedom to do as one wished.

S. J.-B. used to say that her one extravagance at Windydene was journals and books. She had always been a book buyer, and books were more essential than ever now. New shelves had to be put up every year or so. Her collection of recent 529novels alone induced a well-known publisher to say that she ought to have a testimonial from authors and publishers. There was a certain amount of practical benevolence in this. In Edinburgh she had often said that an important part of her treatment of patients was the lending of suitable novels, and at Windydene she often had twenty or thirty books out at a time. Her taste was catholic in the extreme, but she specially appreciated among others Peter Ibbetson, San Celestino and Out of Due Time; and—like so many distinguished people—she keenly enjoyed detective stories, especially for reading in the watches of the night.

S. J.-B. used to say that her one indulgence at Windydene was journals and books. She had always been a book buyer, and books were more important than ever now. New shelves had to be added every year or so. Her collection of recent novels alone led a well-known publisher to suggest that she should get a testimonial from authors and publishers. There was a certain amount of practical kindness in this. In Edinburgh, she often mentioned that a key part of her treatment of patients was lending them suitable novels, and at Windydene, she frequently had twenty or thirty books checked out at a time. Her taste was extremely diverse, but she particularly enjoyed titles like Peter Ibbetson, San Celestino, and Out of Due Time; and—like many distinguished people—she really enjoyed detective stories, especially for reading late at night.

She had lost none of her love of poetry. The “poetry book-case” had an honoured place as of old; but, as she sat in her big chair by the fire, she had a revolving stand filled with special favourites within reach of her right hand, and, on her left (in the angle of the chimney-piece) a tiny set of shelves brought from the corresponding nook in her Edinburgh consulting room, contained her Mother’s Bible and a few other chosen friends.

She hadn't lost her love for poetry at all. The "poetry bookcase" still held a special place like before; however, as she sat in her large chair by the fire, she had a revolving stand filled with her favorite poems within easy reach of her right hand. On her left, in the corner of the fireplace, a small set of shelves brought from her Edinburgh consulting room held her mother’s Bible and a few other cherished books.

But the range of her purchases during those later years was very wide: almost at random one recalls Blomefield’s Norfolk, all Father Tyrrell’s works, a whole library of books on social problems,—industry, poverty, labour, etc.—and a fine copy of The Book of the Dead.

But the variety of her purchases during those later years was quite expansive: one can almost randomly recall Blomefield’s Norfolk, all of Father Tyrrell’s works, an entire library of books on social issues—like industry, poverty, labor, etc.—and a beautiful copy of The Book of the Dead.

She retained her old interest in what one may call the polemics of religion, and this was intensified by a delightful and unexpected friendship of those later days.

She kept her old interest in what you could call the debates about religion, and this was made stronger by a wonderful and unexpected friendship during those later days.

She had not been many weeks in Mark Cross before some mutual friend suggested that she might care to know the Roman Catholic priest—a man, as it chanced, of scholarship and culture—following up the suggestion with the loan of a book which the priest had published some years before.^[159] A few days later S. J.-B. wrote the following letter:

She hadn’t been in Mark Cross for long before a mutual friend suggested that she might want to meet the Roman Catholic priest—a man, as it turned out, of scholarship and culture—following up the suggestion by lending her a book that the priest had published a few years earlier.^[159] A few days later, S. J.-B. wrote the following letter:

“June 15th [1899].

Dear Sir,

I have been reading your book on Reunion with very great sympathy and admiration; and, if you care to call on an elderly 530woman who is not of your creed, I should be very glad to have the honour of making your acquaintance.

I have been reading your book on Reunion with a lot of sympathy and admiration; and if you'd like to visit an older woman who isn't part of your faith, I would be very happy to have the honor of meeting you.

I expect to be at home tomorrow afternoon, or could fix any day except Monday, next week, if more convenient to you.

I plan to be home tomorrow afternoon, but I can also do any day next week except Monday, if that works better for you.

Yours truly,

Sophia Jex-Blake, M.D.

Rev. Father Duggan.”

Father Duggan.

It did not strike the looker-on as a specially likely combination, but it was the unlikely thing that happened. The Revd. Father Duggan became one of the most welcome guests at Windydene. He and his dog, Caesar, used to drop in almost every Sunday afternoon for strawberries on the lawn or tea round the study fire. I don’t pretend that Caesar took any interest in the strawberries—possible rabbits were a more absorbing subject—but he did enjoy his bowl of tea, especially when a lump of sugar remained at the bottom as a bonne bouche. He was the centre of interest when his turn came, and, when the anticipated “crunch” was heard, the general laugh of sympathy never failed. They were just happy children together,—the Dog, the Reverend Father and the old Pioneer, and now the world is the poorer for the loss of all three.

It didn’t seem like a very likely match, but it was the unexpected that happened. Father Duggan became one of the most welcome guests at Windydene. He and his dog, Caesar, would come over almost every Sunday afternoon for strawberries on the lawn or tea by the fire in the study. I won’t pretend that Caesar cared much about the strawberries—chasing possible rabbits was a more exciting topic for him—but he loved his bowl of tea, especially when there was a lump of sugar left at the bottom as a tasty bite. He was the center of attention when his turn came, and whenever the expected “crunch” was heard, everyone laughed in sympathy. They were just happy kids together—the Dog, the Reverend Father, and the old Pioneer, and now the world feels the loss of all three.

There were great talks on those Sunday afternoons; it was no uncommon thing to see three versions of the Bible and half a dozen volumes of the Encyclopaedia lying about at the end to witness to the interest of the discussion. There was much borrowing and lending of books,—and no obvious change of view on the part of anyone except in the direction of increased tolerance and brotherly kindness. A very simple anecdote will give as good an idea as any of the nature of the friendship.

There were really engaging conversations on those Sunday afternoons; it was common to see three versions of the Bible and a handful of volumes of the Encyclopaedia scattered around afterward to show how interested everyone was in the discussion. There was a lot of borrowing and lending of books— and no noticeable shift in anyone's perspective except for a growing sense of tolerance and kindness. A simple story will provide a clear idea of the nature of the friendship.

Father Duggan had been the lender of Canon Cheyne’s Commentary on the Psalms, which he had just reviewed for a daily paper.

Father Duggan had lent Canon Cheyne his Commentary on the Psalms, which he had just reviewed for a daily newspaper.

“I won’t pretend that I read the whole of it,” said S. J.-B. in returning the volumes. “In fact”—with a sparkle of mischief,—“I noticed when it came that only about a quarter of the leaves were cut.”

“I won’t pretend that I read all of it,” said S. J.-B. as he returned the volumes. “Actually”—with a glint of mischief—“I noticed when it arrived that only about a quarter of the pages were cut.”

“Yes,” he admitted tranquilly. “I did think of cutting a few more before sending it up to you,—but I didn’t.”

“Yes,” he admitted calmly. “I did consider cutting a few more before sending it up to you—but I didn’t.”

“Ah, no!” she said. “You were an honest man.”

“No way!” she said. “You were a straight-up guy.”

531She was on excellent terms, too, with the local doctors: they looked forward to a chat when they met her in the country lanes, and, if, when she left Edinburgh, there had been any hatchet left to bury, their boyish camaraderie would soon have compelled her to bury it. “I confess I had a prejudice against women doctors,” one of them said after her death, “but she disarmed me completely.”

531She got along really well with the local doctors: they enjoyed chatting with her when they ran into her in the country lanes, and if there were any unresolved issues when she left Edinburgh, their friendly nature would have quickly led her to settle them. “I admit I had a bias against women doctors,” one of them said after she passed away, “but she completely changed my mind.”

The life at Windydene was not unbroken. The clay soil in that wooded garden was not conducive to the health of a rheumatic person like S. J.-B., so several brief winters were spent at various places on the Riviera, and one in Portugal, mainly in the Sacred Forest at Bussaco. At Carqueiranne in Provence one of the editors of the Matin was a fellow guest, and he proved another unexpected comrade. It must have been a matter of some surprise to him to meet in that unlikely place, an elderly English gentlewoman with a grasp of the range of European politics and a facility for discussing it in excellent French.

Life at Windydene wasn't constant. The clay soil in that wooded garden didn't help someone with rheumatism like S. J.-B., so several short winters were spent in different spots on the Riviera, and one in Portugal, mainly in the Sacred Forest at Bussaco. While at Carqueiranne in Provence, one of the editors of the Matin was also staying there, and he turned out to be an unexpected companion. It must have surprised him to encounter an elderly English lady in that unlikely setting, someone who understood the complexities of European politics and could discuss it fluently in excellent French.

It was at Carqueiranne that she and the intimate friend of those days met Mr. Frederic Myers and Professor William James, and here too there was a pleasant partie carrée for some days with Professor and Mrs. Gardiner who were on a cycling tour in the south of France. Professor Gardiner had several times been S. J.-B.’s guest in Edinburgh, when his researches brought him north to inspect some unique document among the archives there, and it was a pleasant change to meet when both were in purely holiday mood.

It was in Carqueiranne that she and her close friend from those days met Mr. Frederic Myers and Professor William James. They also had a great time for several days with Professor and Mrs. Gardiner, who were on a cycling trip in the south of France. Professor Gardiner had stayed with S. J.-B. in Edinburgh several times when his research took him north to check out some unique documents in the archives there, and it was a refreshing change to meet while both were just enjoying their vacation.

In the late Autumn of 1909—in spite of increasing physical disqualifications—she made a last driving tour to her beloved Yarrow.

In the late autumn of 1909, despite her worsening physical limitations, she took one last driving trip to her beloved Yarrow.

It is needless to say that she never lost her interest in the happenings of the world. She had latterly a profound distrust of Germany, and was an eager reader of the articles on this subject in the National Review. The Riddle of the Sands was a novel that she helped to circulate widely. Her name appeared pretty frequently in the correspondence columns of the Times, sometimes in connection with Woman Suffrage, more often in unavailing protest against the endless 532“joy-riding”—degenerating into the sheer lawlessness of the “road-hog”—that was making the loveliest English lanes a nightmare of dust and danger.

It's clear that she never lost interest in what was happening in the world. Recently, she had a deep distrust of Germany and eagerly read articles on this topic in the National Review. She helped to spread the novel The Riddle of the Sands widely. Her name often appeared in the letters section of the Times, sometimes discussing Woman Suffrage, but more often in futile protests against the relentless “joy-riding”—which was turning into outright lawlessness with the “road-hogs”—making the most beautiful English lanes a nightmare of dust and danger.

It was to the Times, too, that she sent her last tribute to the most heroic of her Edinburgh friends in the old days of the “fight.”

It was to the Times that she also sent her final tribute to the bravest of her Edinburgh friends from the old days of the “fight.”

“Sir,—It seems impossible to let the grave close over the mortal remains of Professor Masson without one word of heartfelt gratitude from those whom he befriended so nobly in 1869 and the following years. Our struggle with the University was hard enough as it was, but without his help and that of half a dozen other men it would have been impracticable. I feel that it is really quite impossible to do justice to the chivalry, the unselfishness, the constant readiness to espouse the unpopular cause, and to fight in its foremost ranks, which characterized Professor Masson, and it would take far too much of your space to say even a fraction of what could be said of the aid he gave us in that great battle.

Sir,—It seems impossible to let the earth cover the body of Professor Masson without expressing heartfelt gratitude from those he so nobly helped in 1869 and the years that followed. Our struggle with the University was tough enough, but without his assistance and that of a few other men, it would have been unfeasible. I truly believe it's quite impossible to fully convey the chivalry, selflessness, and constant willingness to support the unpopular cause and to fight at the front lines, which defined Professor Masson. It would take way too much of your space to share even a small portion of what could be said about the support he gave us in that great battle.

But I beg you at least to allow me to say that those so deeply indebted to him will never forget him, but hold his memory in love and reverence as long as they live.

But I ask you to let me say that those who are so deeply indebted to him will never forget him, but will hold his memory in love and respect for as long as they live.

Yours obediently,

Sophia Jex-Blake.

Windydene, Mark Cross, Sussex, Oct. 10 [1907].”

The suffrage movement was always near her heart, though she never grew restless or impatient over the long delay. She never approved of tax-resistance, and militant methods made her uneasy, though she admitted that they had given the cause a prominence that nothing else could have done. Looking back in 1879 on her own fight she had been able to say, “We seemed led all the way; certainly our aim was straight at the end [before us], but ‘highly and holily’ too. I never minded dirt of others’ throwing, but I don’t think I ever smirched my own conscience.” It was in her favour that the Editor of the Spectator broke through his stern rule of excluding all letters advocating the extension of the franchise to women. “Our respect for so eminent a lady makes it a pleasure to publish Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake’s letter.”

The suffrage movement was always close to her heart, but she never became restless or impatient over the long wait. She never supported tax resistance, and militant tactics made her uneasy, although she acknowledged that they had brought more attention to the cause than anything else could have. Looking back in 1879 at her own struggle, she could say, “We seemed guided the whole way; certainly our goal was clear, but also ‘highly and holily.’ I never minded when others threw dirt, but I don’t think I ever dirtied my own conscience.” It was in her favor that the Editor of the Spectator broke his strict rule against publishing letters that supported extending the franchise to women. “Our respect for such an esteemed lady makes it a pleasure to publish Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake’s letter.”

It was this question of the suffrage, too, as we shall see, that brought her for the last time into touch with Octavia Hill.

It was this question of the right to vote, too, as we will see, that brought her into contact with Octavia Hill for the last time.

533S. J.-B.’s outer circle had never suspected her of being “religious,” and even by the fireside she spoke less perhaps, rather than more, on the subject as time went on; but the old quotations kept flashing up to witness to the fire beneath. She was always profoundly interested in any genuine profession of faith, any real conversion or perversion. Several of her friends joined the Church of Rome in those later years, and she was one to whom they always felt the need of justifying themselves. They felt sure of an underlying sympathy, however she might disapprove. Often, of course, she declined to take the matter too seriously. To an old student she wrote:

533S. J.-B.’s close friends never thought of her as “religious,” and even by the fire, she talked less about it as time went on; but the old quotes would often resurface to reveal the passion underneath. She was always deeply interested in any genuine expression of faith, any true conversion or change in belief. Many of her friends converted to the Church of Rome in those later years, and they always felt the need to explain themselves to her. They were confident there was a basic understanding between them, even if she didn’t always agree. Of course, she often chose not to take the topic too seriously. To an old student, she wrote:

“I am not at all shocked at your Sunday programme, but I must say I am amused at your going to a dissenting chapel.”

“I’m not surprised at your Sunday program, but I have to say I’m amused by your choice to go to a dissenting chapel.”

And again:

“I don’t trouble myself much about who goes ‘over to Rome’ and who does not. After all for each one,—‘To his own Master he stands or falls,’ and what we must ask of each is to act to the best of his lights.

“I don’t worry too much about who goes ‘over to Rome’ and who doesn’t. After all, for each person—‘To his own Master he stands or falls,’ and what we should expect from each is to act to the best of their understanding.

But I think ‘subterfuging’ implies dim lights.”

But I think 'subterfuging' suggests low lighting.

Her own attitude grew steadily simpler, enriching the vital elements of her Mother’s creed with the wisdom and experience of her own life. As time went on she disliked increasingly to be classed with those whose attitude towards religion is one of indifference. Even before she left Edinburgh she had written to an old school friend, in acknowledgement of a book by another schoolfellow:

Her attitude became steadily simpler, enhancing the key elements of her mother’s beliefs with the insights and experiences from her own life. As time passed, she increasingly disliked being grouped with those who were indifferent to religion. Even before she left Edinburgh, she had written to an old school friend in response to a book by another former classmate:

“To speak plainly then it strikes me as crude and superficial,—as the work of a person who has caught up passwords rather than of one who has struggled through the conflict of thought personally. It reminds me forcibly of the old proverb, ‘Qui pauca considerat facile pronuntiat.’ The deeper we go into problems, whether social or religious, the less possible it seems to me to pronounce about them offhand.

“To be straightforward, it seems crude and superficial to me—like the work of someone who has merely picked up catchphrases rather than someone who has engaged in personal intellectual struggle. It strongly reminds me of the old saying, "Who thinks little speaks easily." The deeper we delve into issues, whether social or religious, the less possible it seems to make quick judgments about them."

In theology you would, I suppose, rank me among the Agnostics, as I feel very strongly how little we know on such subjects, and that the truly scientific aspect of mind is one of suspension of judgment; but I have no sympathy at all with C.’s attacks on Christianity and the alleged motives of its advocates, and still less with her estimate of the character of Christ.

In theology, you might classify me as an Agnostic, since I really believe we know very little about these topics, and that the truly scientific approach to thought involves withholding judgment. However, I have no sympathy for C.’s criticism of Christianity and the supposed motives of its supporters, and even less for her view of Christ’s character.

534The programme of Socialism strikes me (so far as I understand it) as unworkable, because it ignores a great many of the facts of human nature; and I am sure you are right in thinking that the true path of progress lies in gradual improvement, and gradual removal of unjust restrictions, rather than in sudden violence and revolution.”

534The idea of Socialism seems unworkable to me (as far as I get it) because it overlooks many aspects of human nature. I believe you're correct in thinking that the real way to progress is through gradual improvement and the slow elimination of unfair restrictions, rather than through abrupt violence and revolution.”

To a much more intimate friend she had written about the same time:

To a much closer friend, she had written around the same time:

“Yes, I think —— is what I should call an Agnostic, but perhaps you from lordly heights of orthodoxy don’t appreciate that that differs ‘toto caelo’ from an atheist; and that it is one of the most offensive of errors,—and one frequently made from culpable carelessness,—to substitute the one for the other.”

“Yes, I think —— is what I should call an Agnostic, but maybe you from the lofty heights of orthodoxy don’t realize that it differs completely from an atheist; and that it is one of the most offensive mistakes—and one often made out of serious carelessness—to confuse the two.”

Her appreciation of the Bible increased—and it had always been an exceptional appreciation;—but there are two quotations that stand out in one’s memory as belonging to her in a special sense. She always appropriated to herself with great fervour the prayer of Agur:—“Two things have I required of thee...: Remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me; lest I be full and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.”

Her appreciation of the Bible grew, and it had always been exceptional; however, there are two quotes that stand out in memory as particularly hers. She always claimed the prayer of Agur with great passion: “Two things I ask of you...: Keep falsehood and lies far from me; give me neither poverty nor riches; provide me with only the food I need; otherwise, I might have too much and disown you and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’ or I might become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God.”

And more than once, after quoting the words from Isaiah:—“Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones,” she added almost under her breath,

And more than once, after quoting the words from Isaiah:—“Thus says the high and lofty One who lives in eternity, whose name is Holy; I live in the high and holy place, with those who have a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones,” she added almost quietly,

“I am not sure that that is not the finest thing in the whole Bible.”

“I’m not sure that isn’t the best thing in the whole Bible.”

But while she was one of those to whom the Old Testament makes perhaps a special appeal, it was not by accident that at the time of her death, and for years previously, the words were fixed above the mantelpiece, both in her study and in her bedroom,—“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”

But while she was one of those who felt a strong connection to the Old Testament, it wasn't a coincidence that at the time of her death, and for many years before, the words were displayed above the mantelpiece, both in her study and in her bedroom—“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

Some years before leaving Edinburgh, S. J.-B. had a heart attack which caused Dr. Balfour grave uneasiness, and, 535although she rallied in the course of a week, similar attacks kept recurring at considerable intervals. On one occasion at Windydene she was unconscious for several hours, and finally “came out of blackness” to ask with great calmness, “Well, what do you suppose has happened?”

Some years before leaving Edinburgh, S. J.-B. had a heart attack that made Dr. Balfour very worried, and, 535 although she improved within a week, similar attacks continued to happen at significant intervals. On one occasion at Windydene, she was unconscious for several hours, and when she finally "came out of blackness," she asked with surprising calmness, "Well, what do you think has happened?"

Within a week of this attack she started for the Riviera.

Within a week of this attack, she headed to the Riviera.

It is probable that she never fully realized the seriousness of these cardiac signs and symptoms; but, in one way or another, death knocked at her door pretty frequently during those later years.

It’s likely that she never completely understood how serious these heart signs and symptoms were; however, in one way or another, death came knocking at her door quite often during those later years.

In 1901-2, she suffered from a mysterious and anomalous “growth,” for which a leading London surgeon refused to operate on the ground that she was a bad subject. She was not sorry for the refusal, but the enemy grew with appalling rapidity, and it became increasingly clear that something would have to be done. All through the period of uncertainty she went on with her life absolutely as usual. “I did wake up one night in a horror of great darkness,” she confessed, “wondering what was going to happen; but very soon Whittier’s words came into my mind:

In 1901-2, she dealt with a strange and unusual "growth," which a top surgeon in London refused to operate on, saying she wasn’t a good candidate. She wasn’t upset by the refusal, but the condition deteriorated rapidly, and it became obvious that action needed to be taken. Throughout this uncertain time, she continued her life as normal. “I did wake up one night feeling an overwhelming sense of dread,” she admitted, “wondering what was going to happen; but soon Whittier’s words came to mind:

“I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies....

I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.”

And then I just turned over on the other side and went to sleep again.”

And then I just rolled over to the other side and went back to sleep.

“How thankful we should be,” she said on another occasion, “that we don’t know what is before us. Life is hard enough, it would be much harder if we knew.”

“How thankful we should be,” she said on another occasion, “that we don’t know what’s ahead of us. Life is tough enough; it would be so much harder if we did know.”

When a friend remarked on her courage, she said,—and this was a remark repeated many times before the end of her life,—“No, no. I have been brave sometimes in my life, but not now. There is nothing to be brave about now.”

When a friend commented on her courage, she said—and this was something she repeated many times before her life ended—“No, no. I’ve been brave at times in my life, but not now. There’s nothing to be brave about right now.”

536In response one day to a warmer expression of admiration, she almost cried out in protest,—“Oh! ... God be merciful to me a sinner. That is what one feels more and more.” Then, after a pause:

536One day, in response to a more passionate expression of admiration, she almost shouted in protest, “Oh! ... God, have mercy on me, a sinner. That’s how I feel more and more.” Then, after a pause:

“‘Suffice it if—my good and ill unreckoned,
And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace—
I find myself by hands familiar beckoned
Unto my fitting place.’”

Another day she said, “My life here will not be much longer, but I feel that I have not reached the end. I have learnt a great deal, and I have a great deal still to learn. Unless one has absolutely refused to learn, one must get the chance to learn more.”

Another day she said, “My time here won’t be much longer, but I feel like I haven’t reached the end. I’ve learned a lot, and I still have so much more to learn. Unless someone has completely refused to learn, they should have the opportunity to learn more.”

Her friend quoted Thring. “My creed is life. Blessed is life the King, etc.”

Her friend quoted Thring. “My belief is life. Blessed is life the King, etc.”

“Ah,” she said, “I don’t know that it will be better than this life, but it will give us the chance to learn fresh things.”

“Ah,” she said, “I don’t know if it will be better than this life, but it will give us the chance to learn new things.”

It was on that occasion that she looked death in the face while still in full possession of her powers—“‘I laid me down with a will,’” she said—; but for the moment the sacrifice was not required of her. When the malady reached a point at which surgical interference was at worst a necessary palliative, she proposed to ask two of her own old students to come and undertake an operation. It was represented to her that it was scarcely fair to put so great a responsibility on them,^[160] so she wrote to her friend, Mr. Cathcart of Edinburgh, asking him to come and undertake the case. He came at once, of course, and the operation proved a triumphant success.^[161]

It was during that time that she confronted death directly while still fully capable — “‘I laid myself down with determination,’” she said — but for the moment, she didn’t have to make that sacrifice. When the illness got to a point where surgery was at best a necessary relief, she suggested asking two of her former students to come and perform the operation. It was pointed out to her that it wasn’t really fair to place such a heavy responsibility on them,^[160] so she wrote to her friend, Mr. Cathcart from Edinburgh, asking him to come and handle the case. He came immediately, of course, and the operation turned out to be a complete success.^[161]

So life was given back to her just as she had laid it down, and the remaining years were in some respects the happiest and most peaceful she had known. She renewed her youth, though in truth she had never grown old, and lived more than ever in the life of her “girls.” She had always said, “Not me, but us.” Now more and more the “us” came 537into the centre of her scheme of life. Perhaps her last ambition was that some British University should give her its honorary degree, but her friends only realized this when she had already laid the ambition down. “I shall never have a University hood,” she said once or twice quite simply. All the more she enjoyed the glories of the young women doctors who were coming on. She listened to their accounts of what they had learned and of what they had done with an admiration that was nothing short of poignant in its simplicity. Her own share in the whole thing simply dropped out. At most she would say when some gifted visitor was gone, “Wonderful the work she is doing! Well, I did help a little bit once upon a time, didn’t I?”

So life was given back to her just as she had put it down, and the years that followed were, in some ways, the happiest and most peaceful she had experienced. She renewed her youth, even though she had never really grown old, and became more involved than ever in the lives of her “girls.” She always said, “Not me, but us.” Now, more and more, the “us” became the focus of her life. Perhaps her last ambition was for a British university to award her an honorary degree, but her friends only recognized this when she had already set that ambition aside. “I shall never have a university hood,” she mentioned a couple of times quite simply. All the more, she enjoyed the accomplishments of the young women doctors who were emerging. She listened to their stories about what they had learned and what they had achieved with an admiration that was deeply moving in its sincerity. Her own involvement in it all faded away. At most, she would say after a gifted visitor had left, “The work she is doing is amazing! Well, I did help a little bit once upon a time, didn’t I?” 537

It was when one of her old girls seemed face to face for the first time with that most bitter disappointment in a doctor’s experience,—the loss of a patient for whose life one has fought with repeated recrudescence of hope in the teeth of despair,—that S. J.-B. wrote one of her last letters:

It was when one of her former students confronted, for the first time, that most painful disappointment in a doctor’s experience—the loss of a patient for whom one has battled with renewed hope despite despair—that S. J.-B. wrote one of her last letters:

“Windydene,

7 p.m. March 19th. 1911.

Dear Child,

Dear Kid,

I am so sorry for you, and I think of you so much! It is an experience that has to come to all of us who live in our work,—and we must believe ‘we shall see in heaven why it could not be otherwise.’

I feel so sorry for you, and I think about you a lot! It's an experience that everyone who is dedicated to their work has to go through, and we have to trust that ‘we will understand in heaven why it couldn't be any other way.’

Meanwhile ‘the Healer by Gennesaret shall walk thy rounds with thee.’

Meanwhile, "the Healer by Gennesaret will walk your rounds with you."

When it is all over,—for I suppose that is now the end,—I think you should come down here for a few perfectly quiet days. We shall be so glad to have you.

When it’s all said and done—because I guess this is the end now—I think you should come down here for a few completely peaceful days. We would be so happy to have you.

Yours sincerely,

S. J.-B.”

There was, of course, one visitor whom she would fain have welcomed to her “pleasant places.” She had followed Octavia Hill’s life with unfailing interest, and had subscribed to the Derwentwater scheme, and to other of Miss Hill’s beneficent works. In July or August 1910 a letter opposing the extension of the suffrage to women appeared in the Times above the signature of Octavia Hill. S. J.-B. replied to the 538letter, regretting that Miss Hill should have “given the support of her honoured name” to the negative side of the controversy. The Times did not often refuse a communication from S. J.-B., but on this occasion her letter was not inserted. Perhaps the trifling episode called up memories too insistent to be stilled, for a day or two later she wrote to her old friend:

There was definitely one visitor she would have loved to welcome to her “pleasant places.” She had always followed Octavia Hill’s life with great interest and had supported the Derwentwater scheme and other charitable works by Miss Hill. In July or August 1910, a letter opposing the extension of suffrage to women was published in the Times under Octavia Hill’s name. S. J.-B. responded to the 538 letter, expressing regret that Miss Hill had “given the support of her esteemed name” to the negative side of the debate. The Times didn’t usually reject a communication from S. J.-B., but this time, her letter wasn’t published. Maybe the minor incident brought forth memories that were too strong to ignore, because a few days later she wrote to her old friend:

“August 5th. 1910.

Windydene, Mark Cross, Sussex.

Dear,

Hi,

I wrote enclosed mainly as an answer to yours in the Times, and as it has been sent back to me, crowded out, I send it to you,—to show you another old woman’s point of view.

I wrote the enclosed mainly in response to yours in the Times, and since it's been returned to me and not published, I'm sending it to you—to share another old woman’s perspective.

I am rheumatic and lame now, and cannot go about much, but I wish you would come down and spend two or three days with me here on the Sussex hills, and we would thrash out this Suffrage question—surely one of us ought to be able to convince the other!

I'm dealing with arthritis and I'm not very mobile right now, but I really wish you would come down and spend a couple of days with me here in the Sussex hills. We could work through this Suffrage question—surely one of us should be able to convince the other!

And I should like to see you again!

And I would like to see you again!

Yours sincerely,

S. Jex-Blake.

I grieved greatly with you in your loss in June.”^[162]

I was very sad with you over your loss in June.”^[162]

Miss Octavia Hill had allowed herself no “sabbatical year,” and she was flagging in harness. Her life had been spent in unremitting service of her fellow men. She answered her old friend’s letter, but she could not respond. One has no difficulty in understanding her attitude now. A conventional meeting would have been useless, and anything else would have involved a greater upheaval than most people are willing to face as life goes on.

Miss Octavia Hill had never taken a "sabbatical year," and she was wearing down. Her life had been dedicated to the relentless service of others. She replied to her old friend's letter, but she couldn't engage fully. It's easy to understand her perspective now. A typical meeting would have been pointless, and anything beyond that would have required more disruption than most people are willing to confront as life continues.

And it well may be that she had acted wisely all along. As Mrs. Jex-Blake had said many years before with that strange prevision that is given sometimes to the pure in heart,—“God has two great works,—one for her, one for you.”

And it’s possible that she had been smart about it all along. As Mrs. Jex-Blake said many years ago with that odd sense of foresight that is sometimes given to those with pure hearts, “God has two great works—one for her, one for you.”

Those two great works could never have been combined.

Those two great works could never have been merged.

And, indeed, no one with a disposition like S. J.-B.’s can go through life without losing friends. She might have said with St. Teresa,—“For one thing, the devil sometimes fills 539me with such a harsh and cruel temper; such a spirit of anger and hostility at some people, that I could eat them up and annihilate them.” But, as in the case of St. Teresa, the obverse side of the medal was a capacity for loving that can seldom have been surpassed in our human nature. “Went not my heart with thee...?” she used to say: and it did,—not only with those nearest to her, but with all who appealed to her mother-heart. The comforting letter was written, in spite of all fatigue and inconvenience, at the earliest possible moment: the box of flowers, the grapes, the wine, the cheque, the open hospitable doors,—all seemed messengers waiting for their turn, like the swift-heeled servants of the Fairy Queen.

And really, no one with a personality like S. J.-B.'s can go through life without losing friends. She might have said with St. Teresa, “For one thing, the devil sometimes fills me with such a harsh and cruel temper; such a spirit of anger and hostility towards some people that I could just eat them alive.” But, like St. Teresa, the flip side of the coin was her ability to love, which is rarely matched in human nature. “Didn’t my heart go with you...?” she would say: and it did—not just with those closest to her, but with everyone who touched her motherly heart. The comforting letter was written, despite all the fatigue and inconvenience, at the earliest opportunity: the box of flowers, the grapes, the wine, the check, the open welcoming doors—all seemed like messengers waiting their turn, like the swift-footed servants of the Fairy Queen.

No appeal ever came to her that she ignored. The Charity Organisation Society was familiar with her name; and great sometimes was her disappointment when those she wanted to help were pronounced hopeless or unworthy. Nothing that she loved ever grew old. Her friends, her horses,—even the purely material things to which she was attached—grew more beautiful in her eyes as their market value decreased. She always parted deliberately with the flowers that had stood by her hand. No one was ever allowed to throw them away as a matter of routine, and often she would raise them to her lips before putting them in the fire.

No appeal ever reached her that she ignored. The Charity Organisation Society knew her name well, and she often felt a deep disappointment when those she wanted to help were deemed hopeless or unworthy. Nothing she loved ever became old. Her friends, her horses—even the material things she was attached to—appeared more beautiful to her as their market value went down. She always intentionally separated from the flowers that had been by her side. No one was ever allowed to throw them away as a routine task, and often she would bring them to her lips before placing them in the fire.

St. Teresa’s love no doubt was a more transcendent thing. It was her lot to live in an age of faith. S. J.-B. often quoted Whittier’s Autograph:

St. Teresa's love was definitely something more profound. She lived in a time filled with faith. S. J.-B. often quoted Whittier's Autograph:

“If of the Law’s stone table,
To hold he scarce was able
The first great precept fast,
He kept for man the last.

Through mortal lapse and dulness
What lacks the Eternal Fulness,
If still our weakness can
Love Him in loving man?”

There are those of whom Teresa herself said:

There are people about whom Teresa herself said:

“They may have more merit in His eyes than their more favoured neighbours, because their obedience and their faith and their love 540have cost them more. Their Lord deals with them as with strong and valiant men, appointing them travail and trouble here, that they may fight for Him the good fight of faith, and only come in for the prize at the end.”

“They might be more valued in His eyes than their more favored neighbors because their obedience, faith, and love have required greater sacrifice. Their Lord treats them like strong and courageous individuals, assigning them hardship and challenges here so they can fight the good fight of faith for Him and only receive the reward at the end.”

No portrait gives any adequate idea of Sophia Jex-Blake. Someone who saw her first in 1886 writes:

No portrait really captures what Sophia Jex-Blake was like. Someone who saw her for the first time in 1886 writes:

“Although too stout in figure, she had a fine commanding presence, and one was struck at once by the exceeding comeliness of her face. It was strong, wise and benevolent, capable of an extraordinary range of expression. The brow was ideally shaped, broad and serene in repose, though always liable to the summer lightnings that one half admired, half dreaded. Her hair was growing white, but the eyebrows remained black till the end, and the eyes, both by nature and by the long discipline of life, were extraordinarily fine and expressive.”

“Although a bit heavyset, she had a strong presence, and you were immediately struck by the remarkable beauty of her face. It was strong, wise, and kind, capable of an incredible range of expression. Her brow was perfectly shaped, broad and calm when relaxed, but always ready for sudden flashes of emotion that were equally admirable and a little intimidating. Her hair was turning white, but her eyebrows stayed black until the end, and her eyes, due to both their natural quality and the experiences of her life, were exceptionally beautiful and expressive.”

It was twenty years later than this that a girl friend said,—“She has the look of one ‘following fearlessly’.” Throughout life, the tendency to sadness of expression was wholly contradicted by her smile; her eyes very readily bubbled over with merriment; as some reporter had said in the days of the fight, “With those dimples she must be good-natured.” When an old servant was shown the final portrait in this volume, she said, “But I want her to look up at me and laugh as she used to do!”

It was twenty years later when a friend remarked, “She looks like someone who’s ‘fearlessly following’.” Throughout her life, her naturally sad expression was completely offset by her smile; her eyes easily sparkled with joy. As one reporter noted during the days of the struggle, “With those dimples, she must be really good-natured.” When an old servant saw the final portrait in this volume, she said, “But I want her to look up at me and laugh like she used to!”

One does not wish to dwell on the history of the last few months. From the physical point of view it is a familiar story. One by one every medicament lost its efficacy: the failing heart ceased to invigorate one organ after another. But the strong and disciplined will held the shattered tabernacle together. Sometimes acute symptoms forced her to stay in bed for a day or two, but she always struggled on to her feet again at the earliest possible moment and went for the daily drive through her beloved lanes and woods. True that towards the end she noticed these less and less,—drowsed most of the way; but, if there was occasion to rouse herself and speak to anyone, she did so almost as of old.

One doesn't want to focus on the past few months. From a physical standpoint, it's a well-known story. One by one, every medication lost its effectiveness: her weakening heart stopped supporting one organ after another. But her strong and disciplined will kept her fragile body together. Sometimes, severe symptoms forced her to stay in bed for a day or two, but she always fought to get back on her feet as soon as she could and took her daily drive through the lanes and woods she loved. It's true that by the end, she noticed these places less and less—often dozing off for most of the ride; but when she needed to wake up and talk to someone, she did so almost as she used to.

“The worst of lying awake at night,” she used to say whimsically, “is that one realizes all the mistakes one has 541made in one’s life.” It was not even lying awake sometimes: it was a weary sitting up or lying down as each position in turn became intolerable. And often, after only three minutes’ unconsciousness, she would exclaim in something like the old happy voice, “I have had such a lovely sleep!”

“The worst part of lying awake at night,” she used to say playfully, “is that you start to realize all the mistakes you’ve made in your life.” Sometimes it wasn’t even lying awake: it was a tired sitting up or lying down as each position became unbearable. And often, after only three minutes of dozing off, she would exclaim in a voice similar to her old cheerful self, “I’ve had such a lovely sleep!”

Almost to the last day she repeated bits of her favourite poems and psalms,—and nothing gave her so much pleasure as to plan holidays for those who still had a day’s work before them. She was infinitely mindful of those who tended her. Almost her last words were,—“Now do go and have a good rest.”

Almost up until the end, she recited parts of her favorite poems and psalms—and nothing made her happier than planning holidays for those who still had a day's work ahead of them. She was always considerate of those who cared for her. Her almost last words were, “Now do go and have a good rest.”

And so the end came,—suddenly but not unexpectedly. She sat down one day more tired than usual—it was the 7th January, 1912—stretched herself back, and rendered up her soul to God who gave it.

And so the end came—suddenly but not unexpectedly. She sat down one day, more tired than usual—it was January 7, 1912—leaned back, and gave her soul back to God who had given it.

A great wave of feeling arose in the village and round about when it was known that the familiar figure of the old warrior would no more be seen in her Sussex lanes. Perplexed at first, her neighbours of all classes had come in a measure to understand her, to be proud of her,—some of them to love her. With one or two, indeed, she had formed a warm and intimate friendship. There was every token of respectful sympathy and mourning when the little procession made its way to Rotherfield Church.^[163]

A strong wave of emotions swept through the village and its surroundings when people learned that the familiar figure of the old warrior would no longer be seen in her Sussex lanes. Initially confused, her neighbors from all walks of life gradually came to understand and take pride in her—some even grew to love her. With a couple of them, she had built a close and genuine friendship. There were clear signs of respectful sympathy and mourning as the small procession made its way to Rotherfield Church.^[163]

And that wave of feeling went out over the whole world. Messages and tributes of appreciation and regret poured steadily in. The most beautiful and adequate was the paragraph in the Pall Mall Gazette:

And that wave of emotion spread across the entire world. Messages and tributes of gratitude and sorrow came in continuously. The most beautiful and fitting was the paragraph in the Pall Mall Gazette:

“The woman as Happy Warrior has passed away with the death in her Sussex home of Sophia Jex-Blake. There is scarcely an attribute of the great figure in Wordsworth’s poem which she did not possess, with the crowning added happiness of seeing her fame as a noble and successful pioneer in a great movement finally established. She it was, more than anyone else, who compelled the gates of the medical profession to be opened to women. Through years 542of hostility and obloquy she never lost heart in her Cause; and, meeting violence with reason and coarseness with dignity, she won at last. Her longest and bitterest fight was with the University of Edinburgh; and, later, when Parliament had recognized the right of women to be doctors, it was in that city that she practised for twenty-one years. Since the death of Florence Nightingale no woman has died of whom more truly may it be written, Bene actæ vitæ recordatio jucundissima est.

“The woman as Happy Warrior has passed away with the death in her Sussex home of Sophia Jex-Blake. There’s hardly an attribute of the great figure in Wordsworth’s poem that she didn’t have, with the added happiness of seeing her legacy as a respected and successful pioneer in a significant movement finally recognized. She was the one, more than anyone else, who pushed to open the gates of the medical profession to women. Through years of hostility and criticism, she never lost faith in her Cause; and by responding to violence with reason and rudeness with dignity, she ultimately triumphed. Her longest and toughest battle was with the University of Edinburgh; and later, when Parliament acknowledged women’s right to be doctors, it was in that city where she practiced for twenty-one years. Since the death of Florence Nightingale, no woman has passed away of whom it can be said more truly, The memory of a life well-lived is very pleasant..

But the reader may find a special propriety in a very simple resolution passed a few days later in an Over Seas dominion:

But the reader might notice a particular relevance in a very straightforward decision made a few days later in an overseas territory:

“That the members of the University Women’s Club of Toronto do place on record their deep sense of the great influence and noble life of Dr. Sophia Jex-Blake. Now that her distinguished career has closed, they feel that she was the helper of all University women,—and they love her for many reasons.”

The End

543

APPENDIX A
PEDIGREE OF THE JEX-BLAKE FAMILY

S. J.-B.’s father was one of the Blakes of Bunwell, Scottow, etc., in the county of Norfolk.

S. J.-B.’s father was one of the Blakes from Bunwell, Scottow, and other places in Norfolk County.

A family of Blakes settled at Bunwell in 1620. It is said traditionally that they came from Somersetshire and were descended from the same family as Robert Blake, the great Admiral of the Commonwealth, being probably a branch of the original family of the Blaks, Blaaks or Blakes of Pinnels in the parish of Cawne or Calne, Co. Wilts., there seated as early, at least, as 1400. These families bore the same arms with slight differences, namely, argent a chevron between three garbs sable. Crest, on a chapeau gules turned up ermine, a martlet argent.

A family of Blakes moved to Bunwell in 1620. Traditionally, it's said that they came from Somerset and were related to Robert Blake, the famous Admiral of the Commonwealth, likely being a branch of the original family of the Blaks, Blaaks, or Blakes from Pinnels in the parish of Cawne or Calne, County Wiltshire, where they had been settled since at least 1400. These families used the same coat of arms with minor variations, specifically, a silver shield with a black chevron between three black wheatsheaves. The crest featured, on a red hat lined with ermine, a silver martlet.

In the chancel of Bunwell Church, near the altar rails, is a tombstone with the following inscription:

In the chancel of Bunwell Church, near the altar rails, there’s a tombstone with this inscription:

Under this Stone lyeth the Body of Mr John Blake
He dyed the 21 of August 1686 being sixtie 4
Yeares of age and upwards.

Above this legend are the arms of Blake as above: on the chevron a fleur-de-lis for difference.

Above this legend are Blake's arms as shown above: on the chevron, a fleur-de-lis for distinction.

From this gentleman is descended in direct line all the present family through his fourth son, Robert Blake, who settled at Scottow about 1680, marrying Margaret, eldest daughter of William Durrant of Scottow Hall. Their son, Thomas Blake of Scottow, born November 7th, 1689, married Elizabeth, daughter of John Jex, Esq. of Lowestoft, and the grandson of these last, William Blake of Swanton Abbots, in the Commission of the Peace, and Deputy Lieutenant for Norfolk, having inherited the chief part of the Jex property, obtained on his petition by Royal Licence on August 17th, 1837, that he and his descendants should assume and use the surname Jex in addition to and before that of Blake, and also bear the arms of Jex quarterly, in the second quarter, with those of Blake.^[164]

From this gentleman, all the current family members are descended in a direct line through his fourth son, Robert Blake, who settled in Scottow around 1680, marrying Margaret, the eldest daughter of William Durrant of Scottow Hall. Their son, Thomas Blake of Scottow, born on November 7th, 1689, married Elizabeth, daughter of John Jex, Esq. of Lowestoft. The grandson of these two, William Blake of Swanton Abbots, who was in the Commission of the Peace and a Deputy Lieutenant for Norfolk, inherited the main part of the Jex property. On his petition granted by Royal Licence on August 17th, 1837, he and his descendants were allowed to adopt the surname Jex in addition to and before Blake, and also to bear the arms of Jex quarterly in the second quarter, alongside those of Blake.^[164]

544

APPENDIX B
“WORDS FOR THE WAY.”^[165]—No. 2. REST

“There remaineth a Rest for the people of God.”—Heb. 4:9.

What is the thing that you wish for most in the world?

What is the one thing you wish for the most in the world?

I cannot hear your answers to my question, and I do not suppose that everyone to whom it is addressed would answer it in the same way; but I must try and fancy to myself what you would be most likely to say. And first I suppose that each of you would be likely to wish for that of which he has most felt the need.

I can’t hear your responses to my question, and I don’t think everyone I ask would reply in the same way; but I have to imagine what you would most likely say. First, I assume that each of you would probably want what you feel you need the most.

Some of you, perhaps, who are very poor, would say, “Money.” Well, money is a very good thing, and, if we know how to use it rightly, a great blessing for which to thank God when He gives it to us; but you might have money, and yet be far from happy—yet have a great many of your deepest wants unsatisfied. And very many of those who have most money would be the first to tell you that this is the case; and I am sure that with very little of it, it is possible to be very happy if we have some other things.

Some of you might say, “Money,” especially if you're really struggling. Money is definitely a good thing, and if we know how to use it wisely, it can be a huge blessing to be thankful for when God gives it to us. But you can have money and still not be happy—there could be many deep needs that remain unfulfilled. In fact, many of those who have the most money will tell you this is true; and I'm sure that with very little of it, you can still be very happy if you have some other important things.

I hardly think that money is what we should wish for most.

I really don’t think that money is what we should want the most.

Those of you who are very ill, and who are constantly suffering pain that seems to be always coming freshly upon you, would perhaps say, “Health.” Well, that too is a very good and great gift of God’s, and those of us who have it should thank Him very much for it, and pity heartily and helpfully those who have it not. But I think that with even this blessing, there may be very great wants left; and I believe that it is possible to be very blessed without it. I do not think that Health satisfies the deepest want of our nature.

Those of you who are very sick and always in pain might say, “Health.” That’s a great gift from God, and those of us who have it should be very thankful and genuinely feel for and help those who don’t. However, I think that even with this blessing, there can still be significant needs. I believe it’s possible to feel truly blessed without being healthy. I don’t believe that health fulfills our deepest needs.

And some of you perhaps, who have felt how sad it is to be ignorant of many things that it would be so good to know, and who are longing to learn more about God and His great and wonderful works, might say that “Knowledge” was the gift which of all others you desire.

And some of you, maybe, who have felt how sad it is to not know many things that would be so good to understand, and who are eager to learn more about God and His amazing works, might say that “Knowledge” is the gift you desire most of all.

Some again who have felt how sad it is to stand all alone in this great world, every part of which God has made so dependent on the rest,—who long for some heart to lean upon in all life’s troubles, some hand to help to cut a way through them, will say that “Love” is the greatest blessing that it seems to them possible to receive.

Some people, having experienced the loneliness of standing alone in this vast world—every part of which is connected to the rest by God's design—yearn for a heart to rely on during life's challenges and a hand to help navigate through them. They will say that “Love” is the greatest blessing anyone could hope to receive.

545I have no doubt that if I were really talking to you, or, still better, could see the thoughts of your hearts, I should be told of many wants which you earnestly desire to have satisfied,—wants, some of them belonging to the lower and some of them to the higher part of that wonderful nature which God has given to us all.

545I have no doubt that if I were truly speaking to you, or even better, could see the thoughts in your hearts, I would hear about many needs that you genuinely want to be fulfilled—needs that range from basic to more profound aspects of the amazing nature that God has gifted us all.

And now perhaps you would like to hear my answer to this question I have been asking of you, “What is the thing we most want?” It seems to me that there is one blessing which sums up in itself—which seems to imply or to contain—almost all others, and which, if we go deeply enough into it, does really satisfy all the great wants of our nature. This is Rest.

And now maybe you’d like to hear my answer to the question I’ve been asking you, “What is it that we want the most?” It seems to me that there’s one blessing that encompasses almost all others and, if we dig deep enough into it, truly satisfies all the major needs of our nature. This is Rest.

Now let us think what Rest is: and see whether if you had that, you would have the deepest part of all your wants satisfied.

Now let’s consider what Rest really is and see if having it would fulfill the deepest part of all your needs.

You said you wanted Money? Well, was not the comfort which you thought money could give you, just that freedom from care and anxiety which we call Rest?—was it not really for this, and not for the money itself, you longed?

You said you wanted money? Well, wasn’t the comfort you thought money could bring you really just the freedom from worry and stress that we call rest?—wasn’t it truly for this, and not for the money itself, that you were longing?

And you wanted Health? Is it not just because health would give you rest from pain and from continual weariness that it seems to you the best of all things? Does not Health for you really mean Rest?

And you wanted health? Is it not just because health would give you a break from pain and constant fatigue that it seems to you the greatest of all things? Doesn’t health really mean rest for you?

And is it not because there is something that you are always longing to know and understand that you desire so much to have Knowledge? Is not your wish for it founded on the feeling that God gave you a mind and understanding which can only be satisfied by learning and knowing. Do you not really desire knowledge that your intellect may have some firm standing ground?—that it too may have Rest?

And isn't it true that your deep desire for Knowledge comes from a longing to understand things? Don't you wish for it because you feel that God has given you a mind and the ability to understand, which can only be fulfilled through learning? Don't you really want knowledge so your intellect can have a solid foundation?—so that it can also find some peace?

And most of all do not you who long for Love, long for it because you feel that to have some one beside you to feel for you and help you, to pray with and work with you through all the labours of this life, is the nearest approach to Rest that we can have on earth, except that deepest Rest which comes through feeling the constant nearness of Him who loves most of all, who “will never leave thee nor forsake thee” (Heb. xiii. 5). If then we can but look forward to Rest, are we not sure of having all that we need?

And most of all, don't you who long for love, long for it because you feel that having someone beside you to care for you and support you, to pray with and work alongside you through all the challenges of life, is the closest we can get to peace on earth, except for that profound peace that comes from feeling the continual presence of Him who loves us the most, who “will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. xiii. 5). So, if we can just look forward to peace, aren’t we certain to have everything we need?

And it is just this that is promised to us in the text we read at the beginning, “There remaineth a Rest for the people of God.” God knows so well all our wants, and knows so well what will best supply them, that all through the Bible you will find beautiful promises about Rest. Let us look at a few of them. Job in the midst of his great troubles speaks of the future life as that “where the weary are at Rest” (Job. iii. 17). The prophet Jeremiah promises to those who will hear God’s will and seek to do it, that they “shall find Rest for their souls” (Jer. vi. 16). Our Lord Jesus Christ 546knew well about this deepest want in our nature when He spoke that most beautiful of invitations to all who heard Him on earth, and to all who read His words now, “Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly of heart: and ye shall find Rest unto your souls” (Matt. xi. 28, 29).

And this is exactly what is promised to us in the text we read at the beginning, “There remains a Rest for the people of God.” God understands all our needs and knows exactly what will best meet them, so throughout the Bible, you’ll find beautiful promises about Rest. Let’s look at a few of them. Job, in the midst of his immense troubles, refers to the future life as that “where the weary are at Rest” (Job. iii. 17). The prophet Jeremiah promises that those who will listen to God’s will and strive to follow it “shall find Rest for their souls” (Jer. vi. 16). Our Lord Jesus Christ 546 understood this deep yearning in our nature when He offered that most beautiful invitation to everyone who heard Him on earth and to all who read His words today, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find Rest for your souls” (Matt. xi. 28, 29).

And the whole argument of the chapter from which the text we are talking about is taken, is this, “Let us therefore fear, lest, a promise being left us of entering into His Rest, any of us should seem to come short of it” (Heb. iv. 1).

And the main point of the chapter from which this text is taken is this: “So let’s be careful, because if there’s still a promise for us to enter His Rest, we don’t want any of us to fall short of it” (Heb. iv. 1).

But now let us ask what is implied or meant by those last words about “coming short of it?” What is meant by our Lord’s telling people that they must “take His yoke upon them” and be “meek and lowly of heart” if they would find Rest? What is meant when Rest is promised specially to the “people of God”?God”?

But now let’s consider what those last words about “coming short of it” really mean. What does it mean when our Lord says that people must “take His yoke upon them” and be “meek and lowly of heart” if they want to find Rest? What is the significance of Rest being promised particularly to the “people of "God?"God”?

Now, if we believe that God loves us as He does, quite infinitely—more than we can even understand—we may be quite sure that He will always give us every good thing that He can—that He will never put any limit to His promises if He can help it—that He would like to give Rest and all other good things to everyone if it were possible.

Now, if we believe that God loves us infinitely—more than we can even comprehend—we can be sure that He will always provide us with every good thing possible—that He will never limit His promises if He can avoid it—that He wishes to give peace and all other good things to everyone if it were possible.

We must never doubt for one moment God’s willingness to give us all good things, and to do all for us that it is possible for love to do. Remember what Christ says about that, “If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven know how to give good things to them that ask Him (Matt. vii. 11). And again, “I say not that I will pray the Father for you; for the Father himself loveth you” (John xvi. 26, 27). And St. Paul tells us that “He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him freely give us all things?” (Rom. viii. 32).

We should never doubt for a second that God wants to give us all good things and do everything for us that love allows. Remember what Christ said about that: "If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him" (Matt. vii. 11). And again, "I’m not saying that I will pray the Father for you; for the Father Himself loves you" (John xvi. 26, 27). And St. Paul tells us, "He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how will He not also freely give us all things with Him?" (Rom. viii. 32).

So you see that we may be quite sure that if we do not get this great blessing, Rest, it will not be because God is not willing to give it to us.

So you see, we can be certain that if we don't receive this great blessing, Rest, it won't be because God isn't willing to give it to us.

But there are certain great principles, which we call laws, which govern God’s world, which are of the very nature of God’s own being, and the more we come to know and realize about these laws, the more we shall find them to be the most wonderfully good and beautiful and blessed ones which could be imagined, and see in every one of them some great and glorious provision for the best possible things, which could not come without them.

But there are certain fundamental principles, which we call laws, that govern God's world and are intrinsic to God's very nature. The more we learn about and understand these laws, the more we will recognize them as incredibly good, beautiful, and blessed. We'll see that each one contains a significant and glorious provision for the best possible outcomes, which couldn't exist without them.

Now you know God made man in His own image (Gen. i. 27), and, though man afterwards broke that beautiful image and lost the perfect likeness that God had given him to Himself—(as we are told in Eccles. vii. 29, “God made man upright; but they have 547sought out many inventions”)—still man is so deep a partaker of God’s nature, that the truest and deepest part of him is that which is like God and akin to Him, so that St. Paul tells us, “In God we live, and move, and have our being ... for we are also his offspring” (Acts xvii. 28). Now just because our whole blessedness, and our only hope of returning at last to the perfect image in which God made us, lies in our trying to get nearer and nearer to God, and to become more and more like Him, so that our Lord Jesus bids us “Be perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matt. v. 48)—just because of this, I say, one of the great and merciful laws of God is that none of us shall ever find any true happiness apart from goodness; and no one can hope for Rest who does not seek it in the way of striving to do God’s will. Some one has said that the true Rest of the soul is attained only when God’s will is our will. So we are told by Isaiah, that “There is no peace, saith my God, for the wicked” (Isa. lvii. 21).

Now you know God created man in His own image (Gen. i. 27), and even though man later broke that beautiful image and lost the perfect likeness that God had given him—(as we see in Eccles. vii. 29, “God made man upright; but they have sought out many inventions”)—man is still so deeply connected to God’s nature that the truest and deepest part of him is that which resembles God and is similar to Him. This is why St. Paul tells us, “In God we live, and move, and have our being ... for we are also his offspring” (Acts xvii. 28). Our entire happiness, and our only hope of eventually returning to the perfect image in which God created us, depends on our efforts to get closer and closer to God and to become more like Him. That’s why our Lord Jesus advises us to “Be perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matt. v. 48). Because of this, one of the great and merciful laws of God is that none of us can find true happiness apart from goodness; and no one can hope for Rest who doesn't seek it by striving to do God’s will. Someone has said that the true Rest of the soul is achieved only when God’s will is our will. So we are reminded by Isaiah that “There is no peace, saith my God, for the wicked” (Isa. lvii. 21).

And “the wicked” do not mean those only who do great and shameful sins, which seem very terrible even to us, but all who do not strive in everything to do God’s will. Let us look a little more closely at what this will of God’s is.

And “the wicked” do not refer only to those who commit serious and disgraceful sins that seem horrifying even to us, but to anyone who does not make an effort to fulfill God’s will in everything. Let’s take a closer look at what this will of God really is.

We are told in the Old Testament what it is. Look at Isaiah i. 16, 17, “Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of thy doing from before Mine eyes; cease to do evil; learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow.” And again, look at Micah vi. 8, “He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God.”

We read in the Old Testament what it is. Check out Isaiah 1:16-17, “Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; get rid of the evil in your actions; stop doing wrong; learn to do good; seek justice, help the oppressed, defend the fatherless, and plead for the widow.” And again, look at Micah 6:8, “He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you, but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

And when we come to the New Testament, we find Our Lord Jesus Christ telling men who those are whom God blesses—what it is to do God’s will:

And when we get to the New Testament, we find our Lord Jesus Christ telling people who God blesses and what it means to do God’s will:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit.
Blessed are the meek.
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness.
Blessed are the merciful.
Blessed are the pure in heart.
Blessed are the peacemakers.” (See Matt. v.)

And while He says that that man only “shall enter into the kingdom of heaven,” who “doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven” (Matt. vii. 21), He explains that will to be, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength; and thy neighbour as thyself.... This do and thou shalt live” (Luke x. 27, 28). So that if that Rest seems to us a great and glorious thing to attain, we must seek it in God’s way; we must try to do God’s will here, that we may rest in perfect harmony and agreement with that will hereafter.

And while He says that the only person who “will enter the kingdom of heaven” is the one who “does the will of my Father in heaven” (Matt. vii. 21), He explains that will as, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength; and your neighbor as yourself.... Do this and you will live” (Luke x. 27, 28). So if that Rest seems like a tremendous and glorious thing to reach, we must pursue it in God’s way; we must strive to do God’s will here so that we can rest in perfect harmony and alignment with that will afterward.

548Is it not a wonderful and beautiful thing that God loves us so much that He will not let us be otherwise than good?—that He will not cease to remind us by constant unhappiness and restlessness that we are not fulfilling our highest end, till we strive day by day to come nearer to Him; so that at last, in that great happy day of Rest, there will be no more striving; for “we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.”

548Isn’t it a wonderful and beautiful thing that God loves us so much that He won’t let us be anything less than good?—that He continues to remind us through ongoing unhappiness and restlessness that we aren't reaching our highest purpose, until we make an effort every day to get closer to Him; so that eventually, on that great day of Rest, there will be no more struggle; for “we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.”

Would you like to hear once more those words, which I daresay you know so well, and which tell us better than any others have ever done, what that Rest shall be, and how it shall satisfy all our wants at last, as “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard.”

Would you like to hear those words again, which I bet you know so well, and which explain better than any others what that Rest will be like, and how it will finally meet all our needs, as “eye has not seen, nor ear heard”?

Let us turn to the Revelation of St. John, and hear the description he gives of those who have entered into Rest: “They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” “Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God.... And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” “And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever.” “Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city” (Rev. vii. 16, 17; xxi. 3, 4; xxii. 5, 14).

Let’s look at the Revelation of St. John and listen to his description of those who have found peace: “They will no longer hunger or thirst; the sun will not strike them, and neither will any heat. The Lamb, who is at the center of the throne, will care for them and guide them to the springs of living water, and God will wipe away all their tears.” “Look, the dwelling place of God is with humanity. He will live with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God.... There will be no more death, sorrow, or crying, and there will be no more pain, because the old order of things has passed away.” “And there will be no night there; they won’t need a lamp or the light of the sun, because the Lord God will shine on them: and they will reign forever and ever.” “Blessed are those who follow His commandments, so they may have the right to the tree of life and enter through the gates of the city” (Rev. vii. 16, 17; xxi. 3, 4; xxii. 5, 14).

APPENDIX C
CONCLUSIONS FROM “A VISIT TO AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES”

“The two features of American education which strike an Englishman as characteristic, are, the union of all classes in the same schools and of both sexes in the same colleges; the first being nearly universal throughout the Northern States; the second still exceptional, and as regards public opinion, still on probation.

“The two features of American education that stand out to an Englishman are the mixing of all social classes in the same schools and the inclusion of both genders in the same colleges. The first is almost universal across the Northern States, while the second is still somewhat unusual and, in terms of public perception, still being tested.”

I. That no disadvantages attend the system of mingling all classes in school can hardly, I suppose, be maintained, though it may be thought that the advantages greatly preponderate.... So far as distinctions and consequent separations of rank depend on merely external circumstances, such as wealth and position, I do not believe that we gain much by observing them; but when they rest on real 549differences of culture and refinement, the case becomes different, and it does not seem good policy to risk certain loss to one class, without being sure of securing a more than proportionate gain to another. In short it seems to me that, if we can mingle different classes of children in such proportions and under such conditions as to ensure that the higher standard shall prevail over the lower, and the tone of all be raised to that of the foremost few, the measure must be an altogether good one: and I am sure that to some extent and under some restrictions this may be done: but if once the inferior standard of refinement is allowed to predominate, the lower dragging down the higher rather than being raised by it, I fear that no results gained can pay for the loss accruing.

I. It’s hard to argue that mixing all social classes in schools has no drawbacks, though many might think that the benefits outweigh them. As far as distinctions based on things like wealth and status go, I don’t think we gain much by acknowledging them; however, when these distinctions are based on real differences in culture and refinement, the situation changes. It doesn't seem wise to risk a definite loss for one group without being sure that another group will gain even more. In short, it seems to me that if we can mix children from different classes in a way that ensures the higher standards dominate the lower, raising the overall quality to that of the best few, then it must be a beneficial approach. I believe that to some extent, this can be done under certain conditions and restrictions. But if the lower standard of refinement begins to dominate, pulling down the higher instead of being lifted by it, I worry that any benefits won’t make up for the losses incurred.

II. With regard to the joint education of the sexes, it seems to be pretty clearly established that, in America at least, this system can prosper for years without any markedly evil effects as to the morals and manners of the fellow-students, and the evidence of most professors and teachers goes strongly to show that, on the contrary, the mutual influence exerted is usually very beneficial.

II. When it comes to the co-education of boys and girls, it's pretty well understood that, at least in America, this system can thrive for years without any obvious negative effects on the morals and behavior of the students. In fact, most professors and teachers strongly suggest that the mutual influence is generally very positive.

It seems also to be proved that at least a considerable number of women can undertake and successfully complete the same course of study that is usual for men, and that without more apparent detriment to their health than students of the other sex.

It also seems to be proven that a significant number of women can pursue and successfully finish the same course of study typical for men, and that this does not seem to harm their health any more than it does for male students.

The general issue divides itself into three practical questions: (a) whether men and women shall pursue the same course of study; (b) whether they shall continue it to the same point; and (c) whether their studies, if identical, shall be pursued together....

The main issue breaks down into three practical questions: (a) whether men and women should follow the same course of study; (b) whether they should continue it to the same level; and (c) whether their studies, if they are the same, should be pursued together....

(a) If there is no fundamental education answering to the needs of common humanity, and, therefore, equally necessary both for men and women,—it follows that the difference of sex is more radical and more essential than is the common humanity that underlies it.... Women have, I think, from the earliest times, suffered from the fact of men’s pretensions to ‘evolve out of their moral consciousness the idea of’ a woman,—which idea has not by any means always happened to correspond with the facts that might, perhaps, afford a surer guide.... It might perhaps be shown that those who, starting with their ‘evolved idea’ of a woman, deny that the same education may safely be given to each sex because of the vast essential differences of nature, are in point of fact more incredulous of the reality of that difference than those who hold the opposite views.... The naturalist will not fear to lay meat and hay before horses and lions, cows and tigers, for neither will the lion be seduced by the offer of hay, nor will the horse and cow lose their distinctive characteristics because they both partake of it.....

(a) If there isn't a basic education that meets the needs of all humanity, and is therefore equally necessary for both men and women, it suggests that the differences between the sexes are more fundamental and more significant than the shared humanity that connects us. I believe that women have suffered for a long time due to men’s claims that they can ‘evolve the idea of’ a woman from their moral consciousness—a concept that often hasn’t matched the reality that might provide a more reliable guide. It could be argued that those who start with their ‘evolved idea’ of a woman and claim that the same education cannot be safely given to both sexes due to their supposed vast essential differences are actually more skeptical about the reality of that difference than those who believe otherwise. The naturalist isn’t afraid to offer meat and hay to horses and lions, or cows and tigers, because neither the lion will be tempted by hay, nor will the horse and cow lose their unique characteristics just because they share it.

I do not by any means intend to say that I desire to see the 550education of all women made identical with that at present given to men. It must first be proved that that education is, in truth, the best and most desirable for the human being, before we can wish to make it universal. But I do say that what is ultimately decided by the wisdom of ages to be the best possible form of culture for one human nature, must be so for another, for our common humanity lies deeper in all, and is more essential in each, than any differences.

I definitely don’t mean to suggest that I want all women’s education to be exactly the same as the education men receive today. We first need to prove that men’s education is genuinely the best and most desirable for all humans before we can hope to make it universal. However, I do believe that what is ultimately determined by the wisdom of the ages to be the best kind of education for one human being must also be the best for another, because our shared humanity is deeper in all of us and more essential than any differences.

I do not believe that women are to be ‘educated to be wives and mothers’ in any sense in which it is not equally imperative to educate boys to be husbands and fathers. I believe that each human being, developed to his or her best and utmost, will most perfectly fulfil the duties that God may appoint in each case, and if teachers and parents have ever before their eyes the aim of making good, true, and sensible women, I do not fear but they will also train the best wives and mothers....

I don’t think women should be "educated to be wives and mothers" in a way that doesn’t apply equally to boys becoming husbands and fathers. I believe that if each person is nurtured to reach their full potential, they will be able to fulfill the responsibilities that God assigns to them. If teachers and parents focus on raising good, honest, and sensible women, I’m confident they will also help raise the best wives and mothers.

(b) I confess that I have been surprised in America to find how much study young women do seem able to accomplish without material injury, but I do not know how much allowance to make for possible differences of national constitution.... My own belief, founded mainly on observation of English girls, is, that in quickness of intellect they in no way fall behind their brothers, and that during one or two hours’ study of any subject they would be quite able to keep up with them, but that after a certain time their physical powers flag,—sooner perhaps than those of boys,—and that a long continued strain is apt to be injurious to them. I state this opinion with great diffidence, however, for many of my fellow-teachers and friends assert the contrary....

(b) I admit I've been surprised in America to see how much studying young women seem capable of doing without serious harm, but I'm not sure how much to consider possible differences in national characteristics.... Based mainly on my observations of English girls, I believe that they are just as quick-witted as their brothers and can keep up with them during one or two hours of study on a subject. However, after a certain period, their physical stamina tends to drop—maybe even sooner than boys'—and prolonged stress can be detrimental to them. I share this opinion with some hesitation, though, as many of my fellow teachers and friends argue the opposite....

Above all, be the limits of study what they may, let whatever is done be done thoroughly, so that the only too well deserved reproach of superficiality and incompleteness may at length be removed from our system of female education. Work half done is not merely unsatisfactory, it is absolutely injurious to the moral and mental health of the worker; and I believe it is better to omit any and every study altogether, than to allow a pupil to skim over it so as to gather together a string of words thereto relating, with no solid meaning or knowledge lying beneath.

Above all, no matter how limited the studies may be, everything that is done should be done thoroughly, so that the well-deserved criticism of being superficial and incomplete can finally be eliminated from our female education system. Half-finished work is not just unsatisfying; it can seriously harm the worker's moral and mental well-being. I believe it's better to skip any study entirely than to let a student just gloss over it, collecting a bunch of words without any real understanding or knowledge behind them.

(c) The third question,—whether men and women shall pursue their studies together,—I do not much care to discuss, for I am by no means sure of having sufficient data whereon to rest any opinion, and moreover it seems to me not vital to the general issue. So long as men and women can each obtain an absolutely good education, it does not appear very material whether they get it in company or not,—not material, that is, as regards the education, whatever may be the case as to the social results.

(c) The third question—whether men and women should study together—I don’t really want to discuss, since I’m not sure I have enough information to form a solid opinion, and it doesn’t seem crucial to the overall issue. As long as both men and women can get a truly good education, it doesn’t seem very important whether they do it together or separately—as far as the education itself goes, though the social outcomes might be different.

551But one thing does seem to me important, viz. that not merely a similar but an identical standard should exist for all, whether it be the many or the few who avail themselves of it. This fixed standard does exist for men, being represented by the examinations and degrees of the Universities, and that the same facilities should be thrown open to women does seem to me vitally important. I have already said that I should not care to see all women aim at so high a mark; nor do I believe that, for many years, a large number would present themselves for examination. But that those who do, by earnest study, attain to the prescribed standard, should be excluded from recognition of the fact, seems to be manifestly unjust and wrong. Universities hold, I suppose, in some sense a national trust, and that trust involves all possible aid to the cause of education throughout the land.”

551But one thing seems really important to me: there should be not just a similar but an identical standard for everyone, whether it's the many or the few who use it. This fixed standard already exists for men, represented by university exams and degrees, and I believe it's crucial that the same opportunities are available to women. I've already mentioned that I wouldn't want all women to aim for such a high standard; I also don't think that, for many years, a large number would choose to take the exams. However, it's clearly unjust and wrong that those who do work hard to meet the required standard are denied recognition of their achievements. Universities, I suppose, have a kind of national responsibility, and that responsibility includes providing all possible support for education throughout the country.

APPENDIX D
THE EDINBURGH EXTRA-MURAL SCHOOL

The Edinburgh Extra-Mural classes are medical classes conducted by fully qualified and authorized lecturers other than the University professors. They prepare students primarily for the examinations of the Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, but their certificates are, as a matter of fact, accepted by many examining bodies. The history of the association of these classes with the University is—briefly—as follows:

The Edinburgh Extra-Mural classes are medical programs run by fully qualified and authorized instructors who are not university professors. They primarily prepare students for the exams of the Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, but their certificates are actually accepted by many examining bodies. The history of the connection between these classes and the University is—briefly—as follows:

In 1840 Professor Syme begged the Town Council of Edinburgh, who were then the recognized patrons of the University, to order the recognition of extra-mural classes, an argument for the innovation being “that one of the professors was so comparatively inefficient that many students, after paying his fee and obtaining his certificate of attendance, went to learn his subject elsewhere.” In 1842 the Town Council ordained that four Extra-Mural classes should be allowed to count for graduation,—the classes to be chosen by each student at his discretion. The Medical Faculty of the University refused to consent to this except on the condition that any student taking such classes should have a year added to his curriculum. The Town Council refused this condition, and the Senatus, supporting the Medical Faculty, referred the matter to the Court of Law. In 1850 judgment was given against the Senatus; they appealed to the Inner House, but the judgment was confirmed in 1852. An appeal was taken to the House of Lords, but again in 1854 the Town Council gained the day. In 1855 the regulations came into operation and have ever since remained in force.

In 1840, Professor Syme appealed to the Town Council of Edinburgh, who were the recognized supporters of the University, to approve extra-mural classes. His argument for this change was that “one of the professors was so comparatively ineffective that many students, after paying his fee and getting his attendance certificate, sought to learn his subject elsewhere.” In 1842, the Town Council ruled that four Extra-Mural classes could count toward graduation, with each student allowed to choose the classes at their discretion. The Medical Faculty of the University refused to agree unless any student taking those classes would have to add a year to their curriculum. The Town Council rejected this condition, and the Senatus, backing the Medical Faculty, brought the issue to the Court of Law. In 1850, the court ruled against the Senatus; they appealed to the Inner House, but the ruling was upheld in 1852. An appeal was made to the House of Lords, but once again in 1854, the Town Council emerged victorious. In 1855, the new regulations were implemented and have remained in effect ever since.

552

APPENDIX E
LETTER TO THE TIMES IN REPLY TO MRS. GARRETT ANDERSON

“To the Editor of the Times.

“To the Editor of the Times.”

Sir,—I have only just seen the letter from Dr. Garrett Anderson which you published on the 5th inst., and I venture to beg that you will allow me to point out my reasons for thinking she has selected the very worst of all the alternatives suggested, when she advises Englishwomen to go abroad for medical education.

Mr.,—I just saw the letter from Dr. Garrett Anderson that you published on the 5th, and I would like to share my reasons for believing she has chosen the worst possible option by suggesting that Englishwomen should go abroad for medical education.

In the first place, I think that Dr. Anderson assumes greatly too much in supposing that all the Scotch Universities are permanently closed to women by the recent decision, especially when notice has already been given in Parliament that a Scotch member will, at the beginning of next Session, bring in a Bill to enable those Universities both to teach and examine female students. Even if no such Bill were announced, it would, I suppose, be open to every Scotch University at this moment to obtain the necessary powers merely by application for the sanction of the Queen in Council, as it was repeatedly stated, both by the defenders in the late suit and by those Judges who gave decisions in their favour, that it was merely the absence of Royal authority for recent changes which rendered those changes illegal. I think there is very good ground to hope that this course may be taken by one or more of the other Universities, even if Edinburgh is content to rest quietly under the imputations on her good faith which can hardly be effaced in any other way.

First of all, I think Dr. Anderson is making a huge assumption by claiming that all the Scottish universities are permanently closed to women due to the recent decision, especially since it's already been mentioned in Parliament that a Scottish member will introduce a Bill at the start of the next session to allow those universities to teach and examine female students. Even if no such Bill were announced, I believe every Scottish university could still get the necessary powers simply by applying for the Queen's approval, as it was repeatedly stated by both the defenders in the recent case and the judges who ruled in their favor, that it was only the lack of Royal authority for recent changes that made those changes illegal. I think there’s a strong possibility that this approach may be taken by one or more of the other universities, even if Edinburgh chooses to remain quiet under the doubts cast on her integrity, which can hardly be cleared up in any other way.

Even if the Scotch Universities are left out of the question, those of Cambridge and London may well be expected to move in a matter like the present; or it would hardly seem unreasonable to hope that some of the surplus revenues in Ireland might be applied in one way or other to the solution of the present difficulty.

Even if we don't consider the Scottish universities, the universities of Cambridge and London could take action on this issue; it wouldn't be unreasonable to expect that some of the excess funds in Ireland might be used in one way or another to help solve the current problem.

I think, moreover, that Mrs. Anderson concedes very much more than has yet been proved when she states that the examining bodies, such as the Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, ‘have the power to refuse to admit women to their examinations and qualifications.’ That they have the will to do so may, I fear, only be too probable, but it is at least a very open question whether such power does lie in their hands. I have been assured on very good authority that this is not the case, and at any rate I believe no decision to that effect has ever been given by a Court of Law. Certainly the primâ facie assumption would be the other way. The Medical Act of 1858 in no way excludes women from the profession, and two women are actually registered under its provisions. It is, therefore, hardly credible, that when all candidates are by the Act required to submit 553to certain examinations, the Examining Boards should at their option be able to turn away all applicants who are not of the male sex, no mention of any such power being contained in the Act itself; nor, I think, need we assume even a desire to exclude women on the part of all the Examining Boards until application has been made to each individually; and this has never, so far as I am aware, been done at present.

I also believe that Mrs. Anderson is assuming a lot more than has been proven when she claims that the examining bodies, like the Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, "have the power to refuse to admit women to their examinations and qualifications." While it seems likely they do want to do this, it's still an open question whether they actually have that power. I've been told by reliable sources that this isn't the case, and I don't think any court has ever ruled on it. In fact, the initial assumption would be quite the opposite. The Medical Act of 1858 doesn’t exclude women from the profession, and two women are actually registered under it. So it's hard to believe that when all candidates must go through certain examinations as required by the Act, the Examining Boards could decide to reject all applicants who are not male, especially since the Act doesn't mention any such power. Also, I don't think we should assume that all Examining Boards want to exclude women until each one has been approached individually, which, as far as I know, hasn't happened yet.

I trust, therefore, that I have shown that Mrs. Anderson’s advice that all Englishwomen desiring to study medicine should at once expatriate themselves is premature in the extreme; I hope further to show that it is moreover radically erroneous in principle. Even if it should ultimately be proved (as is at present by no means the case) that women cannot obtain official examination in this country, and therefore cannot enter their names on the Register, it would still, I think, be very far from certain that their best plan was to seek such examination abroad, seeing that after having spent years of labour and much money they would, as regards legal recognition, be exactly as far as ever from gaining their end. Mrs. Anderson says that they would at least obtain ‘what is denied them in their own country, a first-class medical education.’ If it were true that such an education could not be got without going abroad, there would, no doubt, be much force in this argument, but I submit that this is not the case. Without stopping to consider the alternatives brought forward by your correspondent herself—the establishment of a new school for women or the purchase of one of the existing hospital schools—either of which seems to me infinitely preferable, Mrs. Anderson quite overlooks the fact that at this moment medical classes of first-rate quality can be obtained in Edinburgh in the Extra-Mural school (many of whose lecturers stand much higher than the University professors in public estimation),^[166] and that with very little trouble a complete curriculum of medical study could be there arranged, without altering any of the existing conditions of affairs. The doors of the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary have also been thrown open to women, though under some restrictions, and excellent clinical instruction is given to them there by two of the best and most popular teachers in the city. Can any one doubt that when so much has been secured, and when every year promises increased facilities, it is infinitely better that Englishwomen should study medicine under the direction of their own countrymen, in their own language, and amid the social and hygienic conditions which will occur in their own future practice, rather than in a foreign land, from lecturers who teach in a strange language and in hospitals where all the arrangements and theories vary from those of this country, and where even the types of disease may be so far modified 554as greatly to lessen the value of the instruction for those who intend to practise medicine in Great Britain?

I believe I have demonstrated that Mrs. Anderson’s suggestion that all Englishwomen who want to study medicine should immediately move abroad is extremely premature. I also aim to show that it is fundamentally flawed. Even if it were eventually proven (which is certainly not the case right now) that women cannot take official examinations in this country and thus cannot register, it would still not be certain that seeking such examinations abroad is the best option. After spending years and a lot of money, their legal recognition would remain unchanged. Mrs. Anderson argues that they would at least obtain “what is denied them in their own country, a first-class medical education.” If it were true that a quality education could only be obtained abroad, there would be some merit to this argument, but I suggest that this is not actually the case. Without getting into the alternatives proposed by your correspondent—setting up a new school for women or buying one of the current hospital schools—either of which I find far more acceptable—Mrs. Anderson fails to recognize that there are currently first-rate medical classes available in Edinburgh in the Extra-Mural school, where many of the lecturers are more highly regarded than University professors. Additionally, with minimal effort, a full medical curriculum could be organized there without changing any existing conditions. The Edinburgh Royal Infirmary has also opened its doors to women, albeit with some restrictions, and they receive excellent clinical instruction from two of the city’s best and most popular teachers. Can anyone doubt that given these advancements, and the promise of more facilities each year, it is much better for Englishwomen to study medicine under their own countrymen, in their own language, and in conditions similar to what they will encounter in their future practice, rather than in a foreign country with lecturers who speak a different language and in hospitals where everything differs from what they would find here, potentially diminishing the value of their training for those who plan to practice medicine in Great Britain?

In point of fact, the question of medical education in this country may be already considered solved, even if we grant the necessity of attending lectures on every subject in the medical curriculum. It is, however, worth remark that many of the very first men in the profession are becoming more and more strongly in favour of free trade in study—i.e., of allowing every student to obtain his knowledge as he pleases, whether from books or from lectures, requiring only final evidence of satisfactory results. It may be that on investigation the present system will be found to rest rather on the ‘vested interests’ of teachers than on the needs of students, and, if so, the question of medical education for women will be still further simplified. At present, however, it is not needful to argue that question. I have shown that provision for the education of women after the present fashion is to a great extent already made, and that, for purposes of instruction at least, it is quite unnecessary for them to expatriate themselves.

In fact, the issue of medical education in this country might already be considered resolved, even if we acknowledge the need to attend lectures on every topic in the medical curriculum. However, it's important to note that many of the leading figures in the profession are increasingly in favor of open access to learning—meaning that every student should be allowed to gain knowledge in whatever way works for them, whether from books or lectures, as long as they can demonstrate satisfactory results in the end. It’s possible that, upon closer examination, the current system may be more about the 'vested interests' of educators than the actual needs of students, which would further simplify the issue of medical education for women. For now, though, it's unnecessary to debate that question. I've demonstrated that opportunities for women's education, in the current format, are largely already available, and that for instructional purposes, there's no need for them to leave the country.

With regard to examination, the case seems to me equally clear. No foreign diploma or degree is at present acknowledged as qualifying for registration in this country, and though it may be well for those who covet such ornamental honours to go through the examinations requisite to obtain them, I cannot see any ground on which it would be worth the while of most Englishwomen to live for years abroad to arrive at a result so eminently unpractical. We live under English law, and to English law we must conform, so far as lies in our power; if we are arbitrarily precluded from such compliance it is to the English Government that we must look for a remedy. I can imagine few things that would please our opponents better than to see one Englishwoman after another driven out of her own country to obtain medical education abroad, both because they know that, on her return after years of labour, she can claim no legal recognition whatever, and because they are equally certain that, so long as no means of education are provided at home, only a very small number of women will ever seek admission to the profession. I do not say that a woman may not be justified in going abroad for education if her circumstances make it imperative that she should as soon as possible enter upon medical practice; but I do say, and I most firmly believe, that every woman who consents to be thus exiled does more harm than can easily be calculated to the general cause of medical women in this country, and postpones indefinitely, so far as in her lies, the final and satisfactory solution of the whole question.

When it comes to the matter of examination, the situation seems pretty clear to me. Currently, no foreign diploma or degree is recognized as valid for registration in this country. While it might be good for those who want those prestigious titles to go through the necessary exams to obtain them, I don't see any reason for most English women to spend years abroad for such an impractical outcome. We live under English law, and we must abide by it as much as we can; if we are unfairly prevented from doing so, we should look to the English Government for a remedy. I can hardly think of anything that would please our opponents more than seeing one English woman after another pushed out of her own country to get a medical education abroad. They know that upon returning after years of hard work, she will get no legal recognition at all, and they're also sure that as long as there are no education options available at home, only a very small number of women will ever try to join the profession. I'm not saying that a woman can't be justified in going abroad for education if her situation requires her to enter medical practice as soon as possible; but I do firmly believe that every woman who agrees to be exiled causes more harm than we can easily measure to the overall cause of medical women in this country, and she indefinitely delays, as far as she can, the complete and satisfying resolution of the entire issue.

It is not an easy thing to remember at all times that

It’s not easy to remember all the time that

‘They also serve who only stand and wait’;

but I do believe profoundly that at this moment the very best 555service we can do to the cause in which we are all interested is to make use of every opportunity open to us in this country to qualify ourselves as thoroughly as possible for the profession we have chosen, and then (refusing resolutely to be driven into byways or unauthorized measures) to demand, quietly but firmly, that provision for our ultimate recognition as medical practitioners which we have a right to expect at the hands of the Legislature. Mrs. Anderson seems to think it hopeless that the present Parliament should ‘promote the interests of an unrepresented class,’ but it must be remembered that one of the very strongest arguments against granting the franchise to women has always been that their substantial interests are and will be provided for by the existing Government, and a case like the present will certainly afford a crucial test of the truth of these assertions. If they be true, we cannot doubt that Parliament will in its next Session make full provision for a case of such almost unexampled hardship; and if, on the other hand, this be not done, the argument above referred to can hardly be again brought forward when the suffrage for women shall again be claimed.

But I genuinely believe that right now, the best thing we can do for the cause we all care about is to take every opportunity available in this country to fully prepare ourselves for the profession we've chosen. Then, without being pushed into side issues or unauthorized actions, we should quietly but firmly demand the recognition as medical practitioners that we have the right to expect from the Legislature. Mrs. Anderson seems to think it's pointless for the current Parliament to 'promote the interests of an unrepresented class,' but we need to remember that one of the strongest arguments against granting women the vote has always been that their significant interests are being—and will be—addressed by the existing Government. A situation like this one will definitely serve as a critical test of these claims. If they hold true, we can be confident that Parliament will, in its next session, adequately address such an exceptional hardship. Conversely, if this doesn’t happen, the argument mentioned earlier can hardly be used again when the issue of women's suffrage is brought up once more.

Let me, therefore, conclude, as I began, by protesting as strongly as lies in my power against this idea of sending abroad every Englishwoman who wishes to study medicine; let me entreat all such women to join the class already formed in Edinburgh, the great majority of whose members are thoroughly of one mind with me in this matter, and who, having counted the cost, are, like myself, thoroughly resolved to ‘fight it out on this line,’ and neither to be driven out of our own country for education nor to be induced to cease to make every effort in our power to obtain from the Legislature that measure of justice which we imperatively need, and which is, in point of fact, substantially implied in the provisions of the Medical Act of 1858.

Let me wrap this up, as I started, by strongly protesting against the idea of sending every Englishwoman who wants to study medicine abroad; I urge all such women to join the class already formed in Edinburgh, where the vast majority of members share my views. Having weighed the situation, they are, like me, completely committed to ‘fight it out on this line,’ and refuse to leave our own country for education or be persuaded to stop making every effort to get the justice we urgently need from the Legislature, which is in fact largely implied in the provisions of the Medical Act of 1858.

I am, Sir, yours obediently,

Sophia Jex-Blake.

15, Buccleuch-place, Edinburgh. Aug. 8.”

15 Buccleuch Place, Edinburgh. Aug. 8.

APPENDIX F
LETTER FROM THE PRINCIPAL OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY, AND S. J.-B.’S REPLY

LADY STUDENTS AT EDINBURGH

To the Editor of the Times.

Sir,—In your article on the medical education of women, under date the 23rd inst., you give utterance to reproaches against the University of Edinburgh, which appear to me to be undeserved, 556and which I feel sure you would not have admitted had the full circumstances of the case been before you. May I be allowed as briefly as possible to indicate what seems to me to be a correct view of those circumstances? You say:

Sir,—In your article about women's medical education, dated the 23rd, you express criticisms of the University of Edinburgh that I believe are unwarranted, 556 and I'm confident you wouldn't have made those comments if you had known all the facts. May I briefly point out what I think is the accurate perspective on those circumstances? You say:

“It was next thought that an opening for female medical students might be found or made at the University of Edinburgh, and a few were for a time actually received there. The Professors, however, were greatly divided upon the question, and those who were opposed to the necessary concessions threw every possible difficulty in the way of those who wished to make them. After much quarrelling and litigation, and after transactions which reflected very little credit on the University, a legal decision adverse to the ladies was finally given by a bare majority of Scottish Judges, and will remain binding unless carried by appeal to the House of Lords. Under these circumstances the ladies were placed in a position of great hardship and difficulty.”

“It was then considered that there might be an opportunity for female medical students at the University of Edinburgh, and for a time, a few were actually admitted there. However, the professors were greatly divided on the issue, and those who opposed the necessary changes created every possible obstacle for those who wanted to implement them. After much arguing and legal battles, and after events that reflected poorly on the University, a legal ruling against the women was ultimately given by a slim majority of Scottish judges, which will remain in effect unless appealed to the House of Lords. Given these circumstances, the women found themselves in a position of significant hardship and difficulty.”

I acknowledge and regret the hardship and difficulty of the position in which the ladies referred to have been placed; but this is owing to the state of the law of the land as interpreted by the Court of Session, and not to any discreditable transactions on the part of the University. I admit the manifestation, during the history of this question, of a partisan feeling both for and against the medical ladies, to some extent within the University itself, but far more in the outside public of Edinburgh; but I confidently assert that the main body of the Professors were not partisans on either side, and that the general feeling was a desire to give facilities for medical study to women, so far as this could be done consistently with the maintenance of academical good order. Again, it must be remembered that the Professors do not constitute or govern the University. The governing body is the University Court, consisting of eight members (of whom only one is a Professor), headed at present by Sir William Stirling Maxwell, as rector. I utterly deny the appearance of any unworthy feeling in the way in which this Court dealt with the questions relating to female medical education which came before it.

I acknowledge and regret the challenges and difficulties that the women mentioned have faced; however, this is due to the state of the law as interpreted by the Court of Session, not because of any dishonorable actions by the University. I recognize that throughout this issue, there has been some bias both for and against the female medical students, to a degree within the University itself, but much more so among the wider public in Edinburgh. However, I firmly maintain that the majority of the Professors were not biased on either side, and that the overall sentiment was a desire to facilitate medical education for women, as far as this could be done while still maintaining proper academic order. Additionally, it's important to note that the Professors do not make up or govern the University. The governing body is the University Court, which consists of eight members (only one of whom is a Professor), currently chaired by Sir William Stirling Maxwell, the rector. I completely reject the idea that there was any unworthy sentiment in how this Court addressed the issues related to female medical education that were presented to it.

The University was solicited in 1869 to admit ladies, as an experiment, to the lectures of Medical Professors. There was a certain amount of opposition to this request, but the feeling of the majority in each of the constitutive bodies of the University was in favour of conceding under necessary restrictions what was asked. In one of the debates on the subject it was indeed suggested that such a concession should not be made without clearly ascertaining beforehand whether we had the power of ultimately conferring degrees upon women, should it be found on experiment that they succeeded in completing their medical curriculum and in passing the examinations. 557But such a delay was deprecated by the supporters of the application; it was urged that such an inquiry would be premature, as what was asked for the present was only that trial might be made of ladies in the capacity of medical students. I need hardly point out that these representations were dictated by the policy of “getting in the thin end of the wedge.” And far better for all parties, more prudent, and more consistent with the dignity of the University, would it have been, had we resisted this policy, and refused to take any step before endeavouring to ascertain our powers in respect of the graduation of women. But the University Court yielded to an impulse of liberality, and proceeded at once to frame regulations forbidding mixed classes, but permitting any professor of medicine to hold separate classes for the medical instruction of women. The applicants appeared satisfied with what was done for them; and I must say that it would then have been in their power to ascertain beforehand how many of the Professors were prepared to institute classes for them. The ladies must not now throw on the University all the blame of their disappointment, for they were not without sufficient warning that only a limited number of such classes, far short of a full curriculum, would be provided for them. The regulations said not a word of graduation or of a full course of study; they were merely permissive, and, as had been requested, tentative. But the ladies preferred to enter at once upon such lectures as they could get, trusting, apparently, to the chapter of accidents. To several of the Medical Professors it would have been impossible to open full course lectures for ladies, in addition to their ordinary duties. Some had already on hand the teaching of more than 300 students, not only by lectures, but also by daily demonstrations for many hours in the laboratory or dissecting-room. Others had extensive and important medical practice to attend to, being sought out by patients from all parts of the country. Altogether three of the Medical Professors opened classes for ladies, and of these one has had his health seriously broken down by the labour, and the two others have both declared that the burden of such extra duty was more than they could continue to bear.

The University was asked in 1869 to allow women to attend the lectures of Medical Professors as an experiment. There was some opposition to this request, but the majority of the University’s governing bodies supported granting it under necessary restrictions. During one of the discussions, it was suggested that this concession should not be made without first confirming whether we could eventually award degrees to women if they successfully completed their medical curriculum and exams. 557 However, supporters of the application argued against this delay, claiming that such an inquiry would be premature since they only wanted to see women participate as medical students for the time being. It’s worth noting that these arguments were driven by the desire to start breaking down barriers. It would have been better for everyone involved, more sensible, and more in line with the University’s dignity, if we had resisted this approach and refused to take any steps before figuring out our ability to graduate women. But the University Court gave in to a wave of openness and quickly created regulations that prohibited mixed classes but allowed any medical professor to hold separate classes for women. The applicants seemed satisfied with the outcome; however, they could have found out beforehand how many professors were willing to start classes for them. Women shouldn’t blame the University entirely for their disappointment, as they had adequate warning that only a limited number of such classes—far short of a full curriculum—would be offered. The regulations made no mention of graduation or a complete course of study; they were simply permissive and, as requested, tentative. Nevertheless, the women chose to participate in the available lectures immediately, seemingly relying on chance. For several Medical Professors, it would have been impossible to conduct full courses for women alongside their regular responsibilities. Some were already teaching over 300 students, involving both lectures and extensive hands-on demonstrations in labs or dissecting rooms for many hours every day. Others had demanding medical practices, with patients seeking their help from all over the country. Ultimately, three Medical Professors opened classes for women, but one suffered significant health issues from the workload, while the other two stated that the strain of the extra responsibilities was more than they could sustain.

Under these circumstances, the medical ladies applied that substitutes might be appointed to lecture to them in the place of such Professors as might be unable, or unwilling, to give them instruction. Now, for the first time, the University determined to seek legal advice. An impartial statement of the case was drawn up and submitted to the Solicitor-General for Scotland, with the question whether such measures as the ladies now asked were within the competency of the University? The opinion of the Solicitor-General was very strongly given, and went even beyond the exact point inquired on; it was to the effect that any step tending towards the 558graduation of women would be beyond the powers of the University. This opinion paralyzed the action of the University. The University Court informed the ladies, on further application from them, that it was debarred by this opinion from promoting their graduation until the legality of such graduation could be established, but it offered to make, in the meantime, arrangements for their full medical instruction, and it was suggested to the friends of the ladies that an amicable suit should be instituted with a view of ascertaining the law. These offers were rejected, and a suit was brought by the ladies against the Chancellor and Professors of the University, which has terminated, thus far, in a judgment that it is not within the powers of the University to confer a degree upon a woman.

Under these circumstances, the medical women requested that substitutes be appointed to lecture them in place of any professors who were unable or unwilling to provide instruction. For the first time, the University decided to seek legal advice. An impartial overview of the situation was prepared and presented to the Solicitor-General for Scotland, asking whether the measures the women requested were within the University's authority. The Solicitor-General provided a very strong opinion that even went beyond the specific question asked; it stated that any steps toward the graduation of women would be outside the University's powers. This opinion effectively halted the University’s actions. The University Court informed the women, upon their further application, that it was prevented by this opinion from proceeding with their graduation until the legality of such graduation could be confirmed, but it offered to arrange their full medical instruction in the meantime. It was suggested to the women's supporters that an amicable lawsuit be filed to clarify the law. These offers were declined, and a lawsuit was initiated by the women against the Chancellor and Professors of the University, which has so far resulted in a judgment stating that the University does not have the authority to confer a degree upon a woman.

This, Sir, is in brief the history of an unhappy affair, in which the University certainly made the mistake of consenting to an experimental arrangement which was strongly urged upon them, and for this it has been most severely punished. But I doubt if there is anything in what has occurred which can be called a “transaction reflecting little credit on the University,” with one exception—namely, that on one occasion some of the students misbehaved themselves and insulted the medical ladies. But I must say that this lamentable occurrence was occasioned by those ladies having transgressed the regulations of the University Court, and having joined a mixed class in anatomy under an extra academical lecturer. This outraged the feeling or prejudices of the students.

This, Sir, is a brief overview of an unfortunate situation where the University definitely erred by agreeing to an experimental setup that was strongly recommended to them, and because of this, it faced serious consequences. However, I’m not sure there’s anything about what happened that can be called a “transaction reflecting little credit on the University,” except for one instance—specifically, that on one occasion, some students behaved poorly and insulted the female medical students. I must point out that this regrettable incident occurred because those ladies broke the regulations set by the University Court and attended a mixed anatomy class with an external lecturer. This upset the feelings or biases of the students.

In conclusion, Sir, I sincerely sympathize in the earnest appeal made by Miss Jex-Blake, in the very able letter which forms the subject of your article, to the Legislature to take up the consideration of the medical education of women. It is a subject well worthy the attention of the Legislature, and one which can only be properly dealt with, as a general social subject, by the Legislature. Whether or not an University is a suitable institution for the medical instruction and examination of women is a wide question on which I will not venture to enter. But, however this be decided, all other Universities of the United Kingdom must share in the decision of the University of Edinburgh, and this University will loyally bear her part in carrying out whatever Parliament may ordain as expedient. In the meantime, under considerable obloquy, she can at all events claim to have contributed something in the way of experience to the elucidation of the question.

In conclusion, Sir, I genuinely support the heartfelt appeal made by Miss Jex-Blake in the very well-written letter that your article discusses, urging the Legislature to consider the medical education of women. This issue deserves the Legislature's attention and can only be addressed effectively as a broader social matter by them. Whether an university is the right place for the medical training and assessment of women is a complex topic that I won’t discuss here. However, regardless of the outcome, all other universities in the United Kingdom will have to align with the decision made by the University of Edinburgh, which will dutifully do its part in implementing whatever Parliament decides is necessary. In the meantime, despite facing significant criticism, it can at least be said that the university has contributed valuable experience to clarify this issue.

I am, Sir, your most obedient servant,

A. Grant, Principal.

August 27.

August 27.

559To the Editor of the Times.

Sir,—As Sir Alexander Grant, as representative of the University of Edinburgh, has thought fit to lay before your readers a statement respecting that University and its lady students which is, to use the mildest term, imperfect in the extreme, I trust to your justice to allow me to supplement his narrative with such additional facts as he has not thought it desirable to make public.

Dude,—Since Sir Alexander Grant, representing the University of Edinburgh, has chosen to present your readers with a statement about that University and its female students that is, to put it mildly, seriously lacking, I hope for your fairness in allowing me to add to his account with some additional facts that he did not find it necessary to share.

Sir Alexander states that in 1869 the University was “solicited to admit ladies as an experiment to the lectures of the medical professors,” and further on speaks of the regulations as being, “as was requested, tentative.” He implies that all that followed was in compliance with this request, the claim to graduation being altogether an afterthought on the part of the ladies. Now, the real fact is that in March, 1869, I personally did request admission to medical lectures on these terms, but though the application was granted by the Senatus it was refused by the University Court on the express ground of the inexpediency of making any such “temporary arrangement in the interest of one lady.” About three months later four other ladies joined me in making a new and altogether different application—viz., that the University “would sanction the matriculation of women as medical students, and their admission to the usual examinations, on the understanding that separate classes be formed for their instruction.” At the same time (June 21, 1869) I addressed a formal letter to the Lord Rector of the University urging the same proposal, and asking that, if separate classes could be formed, women should be “allowed to matriculate in the usual way, and to undergo the ordinary examinations, with a view to obtain medical degrees in due course.”

Sir Alexander states that in 1869 the University was “asked to allow women to attend the medical professors' lectures as an experiment,” and he further comments that the regulations were “tentative, as requested.” He suggests that everything that happened afterward was a response to this request, implying that the ladies' claim to graduation was merely an afterthought. The truth, however, is that in March 1869, I personally requested admission to medical lectures on these terms. While the Senatus approved my application, it was rejected by the University Court on the specific grounds that making such a “temporary arrangement in the interest of one lady” was not wise. About three months later, four other ladies joined me in submitting a new and completely different application—specifically, asking the University to “approve the matriculation of women as medical students and their admission to the usual examinations, with the understanding that separate classes would be formed for their instruction.” At the same time (June 21, 1869), I sent a formal letter to the Lord Rector of the University supporting the same proposal, requesting that, if separate classes could be established, women should be “permitted to matriculate in the usual way and take the ordinary examinations, in order to obtain medical degrees in due course.”

Our new proposal was successively submitted to all the different authorities of the University, and received the assent of all—viz., of the Medical Faculty, the Senatus Academicus, the University Court, the University Council, and the Chancellor—and, after five months of consultation and consideration, regulations were, in November, 1869, framed and issued “for the education of women in medicine in the University,” these regulations being henceforth incorporated in the official University Calendar. The first of these regulations states that “women shall be admitted to the study of medicine in the University”; in the fourth regulation exceptional provision is made for “women not intending to study medicine professionally”; and the sixth regulation ordains that “all women attending such classes shall be subject to all the regulations now or at any time in force in the University as to the matriculation of students, their attendance on classes, examination, or otherwise.”

Our new proposal was submitted to all the different authorities at the University, and it was approved by all—namely, the Medical Faculty, the Senatus Academicus, the University Court, the University Council, and the Chancellor. After five months of discussions and deliberations, regulations were created and issued in November 1869 “for the education of women in medicine at the University,” and these regulations were incorporated into the official University Calendar. The first regulation states that “women shall be admitted to the study of medicine at the University.” The fourth regulation makes special provisions for “women not intending to study medicine professionally,” and the sixth regulation mandates that “all women attending such classes shall be subject to all the regulations currently or at any time in force at the University regarding the matriculation of students, their attendance in classes, examinations, or otherwise.”

560As the decision by which a bare majority of the Scotch Judges absolved the University of Edinburgh from all responsibility towards its matriculated lady students rests on the assumption that the University Court exceeded its legal powers in passing the above regulations, it may be worth while to state that the University Court comprised at that time the then Lord Advocate of Scotland (who is now Lord Justice Clerk), and also the previous Lord Advocate, Mr. Gordon, and that the regulations in question were confirmed by the Chancellor, who happens to be, as Lord Justice General of Scotland, the highest legal authority in the country. It is certainly a tolerably striking instance of the “glorious uncertainty of the law,” that the two highest Judges in the land should concur in an action which is subsequently declared by a majority of their brethren to be illegal.

560Since the decision by which a slim majority of the Scottish judges cleared the University of Edinburgh of any responsibility toward its enrolled female students is based on the belief that the University Court overstepped its legal authority in implementing the regulations mentioned above, it’s worth noting that the University Court at that time included the then Lord Advocate of Scotland (now the Lord Justice Clerk) and the previous Lord Advocate, Mr. Gordon. Additionally, the regulations in question were approved by the Chancellor, who, as the Lord Justice General of Scotland, is the highest legal authority in the country. It certainly illustrates the “glorious uncertainty of the law” that the two top judges in the nation would agree on an action that later a majority of their colleagues deemed illegal.

Sir Alexander further goes on to suggest that we might have ascertained beforehand how many of the Professors would be willing to hold separate classes for our benefit. The answer to this is twofold. In the first place, no less than four of the medical Professors have been changed since my first application was made, and in every case the change has, as regards our interests, been for the worse. One of those Professors whose loss we have most to deplore is Sir James Simpson, whose generous liberality made him always ready to espouse the weaker cause, and whose strong sense of justice would have made him always our strenuous supporter in the councils of the University. Had he been spared, it is, indeed, more than possible that the whole history of the past four years would have been different. On these losses it was impossible for us to calculate; nor could we (before we learnt the full bitterness of professional rancour) have foreseen that those Professors who were themselves unable or unwilling to teach us would absolutely refuse their assent to every one of the alternative measures by which others might have been enabled to give us the necessary instructions. It is hardly necessary to allude to your correspondent’s rather apocryphal statement that the stupendous labour of giving two lectures a day (which is habitually undergone by Professors in the Arts Faculty) has ruined the health of one medical Professor and seriously endangered that of two more. Suffice it to say that these facts are, to say the least of it, quite new to me, and that, did space permit, I think a very different version of the circumstances might be given.

Sir Alexander suggests that we could have figured out ahead of time how many of the Professors would be willing to hold separate classes for us. The answer to this is twofold. First, four of the medical Professors have been replaced since my initial application, and in every case, this change has negatively impacted our interests. One of the Professors we miss the most is Sir James Simpson, whose generous spirit always led him to support the underdog, and whose strong sense of justice would have made him a dedicated advocate for us within the University’s discussions. If he had been here, it's highly likely that the last four years would have unfolded very differently. We couldn’t have predicted these losses; nor could we have foreseen, before experiencing the full extent of professional hostility, that those Professors who were unable or unwilling to teach us would flatly reject every alternative option for others to provide us with the necessary instruction. It’s hardly necessary to mention your correspondent’s somewhat dubious claim that the overwhelming workload of giving two lectures a day (which is a common expectation for Professors in the Arts Faculty) has ruined one medical Professor's health and seriously threatened the health of two others. It’s worth noting that these facts are, to say the least, completely new to me, and if there were more space, I think a very different perspective on the situation could be presented.

As Sir Alexander has thought fit to refer to the students’ riot in November, 1871 (though to my mind it is very far from the most discreditable episode in this history), I think it right distinctly to deny the interpretation he puts upon the event. It is true that the riot did occur while we were attending an extra-mural class of anatomy (we having utterly failed to obtain a private class, though 561we had offered a fee of a hundred and fifty guineas for one), but the rioters were, with few exceptions, not our fellow-students at all, but a mob of University students who had been summoned together by a missive circulated in the University class-rooms. The real truth was that the riot was deliberately got up simply and solely in the hope of frightening certain friendly infirmary managers from admitting us to their wards, and perhaps also of frightening us by showers of foul words and of street mud from pursuing our studies any further. Fortunately, the chivalrous device was not permanently successful in either direction.

As Sir Alexander has chosen to mention the student riot in November 1871 (even though I believe it’s far from the most shameful incident in our history), I feel it's important to clearly reject his interpretation of the event. It’s true that the riot happened while we were attending an extra-mural anatomy class (having completely failed to secure a private class, even after we offered a fee of a hundred and fifty guineas for one), but the rioters were, for the most part, not our fellow students at all; they were a mob of University students who had been gathered by a message circulated in the University classrooms. The reality is that the riot was purposely instigated simply to intimidate certain supportive infirmary managers into refusing us access to their wards, and perhaps also to scare us off from continuing our studies with a barrage of insults and filth. Fortunately, this chivalrous scheme did not ultimately succeed in either regard.

I pass on, however, to notice the statements made respecting the recent lawsuit and the events immediately preceding it. Sir Alexander says that when the University “for the first time sought legal advice” the authorities obtained an opinion adverse to the ladies’ claims from the Solicitor-General. As that opinion has never been published, there is no opportunity for its discussion; but Sir Alexander appears entirely to forget the fact that an opinion to the exactly contrary effect was delivered by the Lord Advocate of Scotland, who takes official precedence of the Solicitor-General, and that that opinion was not only submitted to the University Court, but published more than once in the newspapers and elsewhere. In that opinion the Lord Advocate stated distinctly that he believed the University to be not only able, but distinctly bound, to complete the education of those ladies whom it had invited to matriculate, and that all necessary arrangements for that purpose could legally be made. It will thus be seen that the above opinions at any rate neutralized each other, and that, had the University willed it otherwise, it certainly need not have been “paralyzed” by one of them.

I’ll move on to discuss the statements about the recent lawsuit and the events just before it. Sir Alexander claims that when the University “for the first time sought legal advice,” the authorities received an opinion against the ladies’ claims from the Solicitor-General. Since that opinion has never been published, we can’t discuss it; however, Sir Alexander seems to completely overlook the fact that the Lord Advocate of Scotland, who has higher authority than the Solicitor-General, provided an opinion that directly contradicted this. That opinion was not only presented to the University Court but also published multiple times in newspapers and other places. In that opinion, the Lord Advocate clearly stated that he believed the University was not only able but also obligated to complete the education of those ladies it invited to matriculate, and that all necessary arrangements for that could legally be made. So, it’s clear that these opinions essentially canceled each other out, and if the University had wanted a different outcome, it certainly didn’t have to feel “paralyzed” by one of them.

It is further stated that the University Court informed the ladies that, by the opinion above referred to, “it was debarred from promoting their graduation until the legality of such graduation could be established, but it offered to make, in the meantime, arrangements for their full medical instruction”; and, further, that such offer was rejected by the ladies. Both these statements, Sir, I distinctly deny. I have at this moment the whole correspondence before me, and I fail utterly to find in it any such offer as that alleged. The only thing that in any degree gives colour to Sir Alexander’s assertion is a passage occurring in a Minute of the University Court of January 8, 1872, which is as follows:

It’s also indicated that the University Court told the women that, according to the opinion mentioned above, “it couldn’t proceed with their graduation until the legality of that graduation was confirmed, but it offered to arrange for their complete medical training in the meantime”; and, additionally, that the women turned down this offer. Both of these claims, Sir, I completely deny. I currently have all the correspondence right in front of me, and I can’t find any such offer as claimed. The only detail that somewhat supports Sir Alexander’s statement is a passage from a Minute of the University Court dated January 8, 1872, which reads as follows:

“The Court are of opinion that the question under reference has been complicated by the introduction of the subject of graduation, which is not essential to the completion of a medical or other education.... If the applicants in the present case would be content to seek the examination of women by the University for certificates 562of proficiency in medicine, instead of University degrees, the Court believe that arrangements for accomplishing this object would fall within the scope of the powers given to them by section 12 of the Universities (Scotland) Act. The Court would be willing to consider any such arrangements which might be submitted to them.”

“The Court believes that the question at hand has been complicated by the introduction of graduation, which is not necessary for completing a medical or any other education.... If the applicants in this case are willing to pursue the examination of women by the University for certificates of proficiency in medicine, instead of University degrees, the Court thinks that arrangements to achieve this goal would be covered by the powers granted to them under section 12 of the Universities (Scotland) Act. The Court is open to considering any such arrangements that may be proposed to them.” 562

On receiving a copy of this Minute I pointed out that certificates of proficiency, not being recognized by the Medical Act of 1858, would be quite useless to us; but added that, “As the main difficulty before your honourable Court seems to be that regarding graduation, with which we are not immediately concerned at this moment, we are quite willing to rest our claims to ultimate graduation on the facts as they stand up to the present date, and in case your honourable Court will now make arrangements whereby we can continue our education, we will undertake not to draw any arguments in favour of our right to graduation from such future arrangements, so that they may at least be made without prejudice to the present legal position of the University.”

Upon receiving a copy of this Minute, I noted that certificates of proficiency, not being recognized by the Medical Act of 1858, would be completely useless to us. However, I added that, “Since the main issue before your honorable Court seems to be regarding graduation, which we are not immediately concerned with at this moment, we are willing to base our claims for future graduation on the facts as they currently stand. If your honorable Court can make arrangements for us to continue our education, we will agree not to use any arguments supporting our right to graduation from these future arrangements, so that they can be made without affecting the current legal status of the University.”

In answer to this letter I was informed that “If the names of extra-academical teachers of the required medical subjects be submitted by yourself or by the Senatus, the Court will be prepared to consider the respective fitness of the persons so named to be authorized to hold medical classes for women who have in this or former sessions been matriculated students of the University, and also the conditions and regulations under which such classes should be held.”

In response to this letter, I was informed that “If you or the Senatus provide the names of the additional instructors for the required medical subjects, the Court will be ready to consider the suitability of those named to be allowed to hold medical classes for women who have been enrolled students of the University in this or previous sessions, as well as the terms and regulations under which these classes should take place.”

I, of course, replied that we would willingly prepare and submit such a list (though your readers will notice that this simply amounted to all the arrangements being thrown upon us students, and not in any degree made by the Court), but requested first to be assured that, “though you at present give us no pledge respecting our ultimate graduation, it is your intention to consider the proposed extra-mural courses as ‘qualifying’ for graduation, if it is subsequently determined that the University has the power of granting degrees to women.” In reply I was informed that the Court would do nothing of the kind; that we might, if we pleased, take all the trouble and expense of finding teachers, and might “submit” their names to the Court, but that in no case would the Court take any measures for making their teaching of any practical use to us from a University point of view. Your readers will therefore judge of what value was the boon that we are alleged to have rejected—I had almost said the trap that we were fortunate enough to have escaped!

I replied that we would gladly prepare and submit such a list (though your readers will see that this just meant all the arrangements were being handled by us students, not by the Court at all), but I first asked to be assured that, “even though you currently don’t give us any guarantee about our eventual graduation, you intend to consider the proposed extra-mural courses as ‘qualifying’ for graduation, if it’s later decided that the University can grant degrees to women.” In response, I was told that the Court would not do anything of the sort; that we could, if we wanted, take on all the trouble and expense of finding teachers, and could “submit” their names to the Court, but in no case would the Court take any steps to make their teaching practically useful to us from a University perspective. Your readers will therefore see what value the supposed offer was that we allegedly rejected—I’d almost say it was a trap we were lucky enough to avoid!

I am sorry to have paused so long over this point, but the assertion of your correspondent was so amazing that it seemed essential that the real facts should be laid before the public. I should be only too glad if your space would allow you to publish the whole correspondence, 563of which I forward a copy for your own perusal. Should any of your readers desire, however, to ascertain more of the facts, they will find the correspondence fully given in the notes to a little book called Medical Women, published last year by Oliphant & Co., of Edinburgh, to which also I may refer for a detailed account of the whole struggle of the first three years at Edinburgh.

I apologize for taking so long to address this issue, but your correspondent's claim was so shocking that it seemed necessary to present the true facts to the public. I would be more than happy if you had the space to publish the entire correspondence, 563 a copy of which I'm sending for your review. However, if any of your readers want to learn more about the facts, they can find the complete correspondence in the notes of a small book titled Medical Women, published last year by Oliphant & Co. in Edinburgh, which also provides a detailed account of the entire struggle during the first three years in Edinburgh.

I notice that Sir Alexander Grant thinks it well to omit the fact that, when we were at last driven to assert our rights in a court of law (and I may remark that no proposal for an “amicable suit” was ever made to me or to any of my fellow-students by the University authorities, and therefore none was ever “rejected” by us), an unhesitating decision in our favour was given by the Lord Ordinary, before whom the case was tried, his Lordship also finding the Senatus liable for three-fourths of our expenses. The University refused, however, to accept this verdict, and appealed the case to the Inner House, where they at length succeeded in obtaining a judgment in their favour from a bare majority of the Lords of Session, the whole costs being in this case thrown upon us. Perhaps you will kindly allow me, however, to quote the following passage from the judgment of the Lord Justice Clerk, who adhered to the decision of the Lord Ordinary, and who had himself been Rector of the University when we were admitted as students.^[167] ... I may mention that an abstract of the whole recent lawsuit has been published as a sixpenny pamphlet, and may be obtained from Mr. Elliott, 67 Princes Street, Edinburgh.

I see that Sir Alexander Grant conveniently leaves out the fact that when we finally had to stand up for our rights in a court of law (and I should note that no proposal for an "amicable settlement" was ever presented to me or any of my fellow students by the University authorities, so none was ever "rejected" by us), we received a clear decision in our favor from the Lord Ordinary overseeing the case, who also found that the Senatus was responsible for three-quarters of our expenses. However, the University refused to accept this ruling and appealed to the Inner House, where they ultimately managed to secure a judgment in their favor by a slim majority from the Lords of Session, with all costs in this instance being imposed on us. I would like to quote a passage from the judgment of the Lord Justice Clerk, who supported the Lord Ordinary's decision and had been Rector of the University when we were admitted as students.^[167] ... I should also mention that a summary of the entire recent lawsuit has been published as a sixpenny pamphlet, which can be obtained from Mr. Elliott, 67 Princes Street, Edinburgh.

Apologizing for so large a trespass on your space,

Apologizing for such a big invasion of your space,

I remain, yours obediently,

Sophia Jex-Blake.

APPENDIX G
PERMANENT MEMORIALS OF SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE

In St. Giles’ Cathedral, Edinburgh,—a brass tablet placed by the Very Rev. T. W. Jex-Blake:

In St. Giles’ Cathedral, Edinburgh—a brass plaque put up by the Very Rev. T. W. Jex-Blake:

“Sacred to the Memory of Sophia Jex-Blake, M.D., by whose energy, courage, self-sacrifice and perseverance the Science of Medicine and the Art of Healing were opened to Women in Scotland.”

“Dedicated to the memory of Sophia Jex-Blake, M.D., whose energy, courage, selflessness, and determination opened the fields of Medicine and Healing to women in Scotland.”

In the Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children, placed by the Committee and friends,—a medallion of cast bronze mounted 564on a slab of verde-antique marble: on the medallion, surrounded by a wreath of laurel, the family crest and motto:

In the Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children, set up by the Committee and supporters, a medallion of cast bronze is mounted on a slab of verde-antique marble: on the medallion, surrounded by a laurel wreath, are the family crest and motto:

Well-prepared heart.

And below this the inscription:

And below this, the inscription:

“In affectionate remembrance of Sophia Jex-Blake, Founder of this Hospital, to whose large courage, insight and constancy the admission of Women to the Profession of Medicine in this Country is mainly due.”

“In loving memory of Sophia Jex-Blake, Founder of this Hospital, whose great courage, insight, and perseverance are primarily responsible for the acceptance of women into the medical profession in this country.”

On the family monument at Ovingdean, near Brighton:

On the family tombstone at Ovingdean, near Brighton:

SOPHIA LOUISA,

YOUNGEST CHILD OF THOMAS JEX-BLAKE,

AND MARIA EMILY, HIS WIFE.

DOCTOR OF MEDICINE,

FOUNDER IN 1874 OF THE LONDON SCHOOL OF MEDICINE FOR WOMEN,

AND IN 1888 OF A SIMILAR SCHOOL IN EDINBURGH,

WHERE SHE ALSO FOUNDED A HOSPITAL FOR

WOMEN AND CHILDREN IN 1886.

“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”

In Rotherfield Churchyard, where her body was laid,—a grey granite cross, bearing the words:

In Rotherfield Churchyard, where her body was laid, — a gray granite cross, bearing the words:

SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE, M.D.

BORN 21ST JANUARY, 1840.

DIED 7TH JANUARY 1912.

“Then are they glad because they are at rest, and so He bringeth them unto the haven where they would be.”

“Then they are happy because they are at peace, and so He brings them to the harbor where they want to be.”

565

INDEX

Aberdare, Lord, 404, 427, 433, 443 (footnote), 466, 507.
Aberdeen University, 226, 413.
Act, Russell Gurney Enabling. See Table of Contents.
Action of Declarator, Part II. Chap. XIII.
Advocate, The Boston, 191.
Aids to Faith, 108, 109.
Aitken, Dr., 500.
“A. K. H. B.” See Rev. A. K. H. Boyd.
“Alice,” 88, 105, 106, 107, 168, 185, 204, 205, 207, 230, 258, 421, 461.
Allman, Professor, 257, 258, 276, 337.
Amberley, Viscountess, 279.
America, Life in. See Table of Contents.
Anderson, M.D., Mrs. Garrett (Miss Elizabeth Garrett), 117, 118, 119, 120, 155, 187, 200, 205, 232, 233, 279, 362, 364, 368, 369, 400, 401, 420, 423, 424, 425, 426, 433, 441, 444 (letter from), 447, 449, 466, 467, 473 (letter from), 524.
Anderson, Miss Mary D. See Mrs. Marshall, M.D.
Andrews, Miss Amelia, 56, 57.
Anstie, Dr. F. E., 402, 421, 425, 427;
- letters from: 374, 419, 420.
Anthony, Miss, 477.
Anstruther, Sir Robert, 360, 403.
- Lady, 360.
Atlantic House, 193, 194.
Antioch (at Yellow Springs in Ohio), 168.
Apothecaries’ Hall of Ireland, 395.
- Society of London, 395.
Ardmillan, Lord, 392.
566Arthur of Barshaw, Mrs., 514.
Athenaeum, The, 188.
Atkins, Dr. Louisa, 431, 439, 447.
Ayrton, M.D., Mrs. Chaplin, 263, 289, 336, 341, 377.
A Visit to some American Schools and Colleges, Part I. Chap. XIII., 188, 228, 479.

B., Miss, 12, 17, 18, 20, 21, 24, 36.
Bain, Miss Isabel (Mrs. James Brander), 159, 160, 172, 478, 506.
Balfour, Dr. G. W., 289, 349, 425, 427, 459, 498, 504, 508, 525.
- Professor J. H., 118, 228-9, 235, 237, 240, 241, 248, 258, 272, 276, 333, 334, 336, 337, 358.
Ballantyne, Mrs. See Lady Jenkinson.
- Miss K., 480.
Barker, Dr. Annie, 279.
Barlow, Sir Thomas, 460, 483.
Baynes, Professor, 394.
Beaconsfield, Lord. See Disraeli.
Beattie, Mrs., 516.
Bedford College, 107.
Begbie, James, 107, 117, 118, 229, 233, 239, 240.
Beilby, Lady, 525.
- Miss Winifred (Mrs. Frederick Soddy), 525.
Bell, Dr., 311.
Bellevue Hospital, 199.
Bennet, Dr. Henry, 280-1 (letter from).
Bennett, Professor Hughes, 236, 237, 241, 258, 273, 279, 289, 361, 425.
Benson, Miss Ada, 62, 63, 84, 362.
- Henry, 62.
567Bernerhof, 436.
Berne University, 436.
Bettws-y-Coed, 45, 60, 86-7, 120, 127, 198, 485.
Biblical Criticism, S. J.-B.’s views on, 142-4.
Billing, Dr. A. (father of the profession), 444, 445.
Birmingham University, 392.
Birrell, Professor, 394.
Black, Miss Janet, 498.
Blackie, Professor J. S., 239, 241, 301, 302, 303.
- Mrs., 239, 510;
  - letters from: 302-3, 346.
Blackwell, Dr. Elizabeth, 199, 200, 204, 205, 207, 264 (letter from), 267, 356-7 (letter from S. J.-B.), 362, 364, 367, 368, 369, 425, 493.
- Dr. Emily, 199, 204, 205, 206, 233.
Blackwood’s Magazine, 435.
Blake-Humfrey, family, 59, 60.
- Mr. Robert, 59.
Blyth, Miss Phoebe, 107, 239, 390, 510.
Bologna University, 221, 239, 240, 241, 358, 370.
Bonney, Dr., 220, 221.
Bordighera, 521-3.
Bosnia, Miss Irby’s work in, 402.
Boston Daily Advertiser, 190.
Boucherett, Miss, 91.
Bovell, Dr. Emily (Mrs. Sturge), 279, 377.
Boyd, Rev. A. K. H., 374.
Brander, Mrs., 479.
- Mrs. James. See Miss Isabel Bain.
British Medical Association, 524, 528.
British Medical Journal, 233, 259, 270, 271.
British Museum, 239, 240, 358.
Brompton Hospital, 438, 439, 456.
Brontë, Charlotte, 133, 139, 237.
Brown, Professor Crum, 268, 269, 270, 273, 335, 382, 418.
- Mrs. Helen, 510.
- Rev. Olympia, 178.
Brown-SéquardSéquard, Professor, 191.
Buchan, Dowager Countess of, 335, 362.
Burke and Hare, 497.
Burn Murdoch, Mr. John, 118, 229.
568Burn Murdoch, Mrs., 106, 110, 112, 118-9, 133, 151, 229, 240, 262.
Burton, Miss Mary, 510.
Buss, Miss, 480.
Bussaco, The Sacred Forest of, 531.
Bute, The Marquis of, 500.
- Marchioness of, 524.
Butler, Rev. Canon, 364, 365.
- Mrs. Josephine, 218, 219, 221, 223, 256, 266;
  - letters from: 226, 253-4, 364-5.

Cabot, Dr., 224, 247.
Caird, Professor Edward, 413.
- Rev. John, Principal, 413.
Calderwood, Rev. Professor, 239, 273, 302, 310, 320, 346, 361, 509.
- Mrs., 510.
Call, Dr. Emma, 199, 379.
Cambridge University, 219, 220, 221, 224-5, 226, 342-3.
Cameron, M.P., Dr., 410, 411, 412-3 (letter from), 467.
Campbell, Professor Lewis, 354, 355, 362, 394, 427.
- Mrs., 354, 355.
- Lady Victoria, 524.
Cancer Hospital, The, 456.
Candlish, Rev. Dr., 109.
Cardwell, Lord, 445.
Care of Infants, The, 491.
Carlingford, Lord, 492.
Carlyle, Thomas, 161.
Cathcart, F.R.C.S., Mr. C. W., 460 (footnote), 536.
Chambers, Dr. King, 255, 256 (letter from), 395, 421, 430, 431, 442, 460, 464, 472, 493.
- William, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, 244.
Chaplain, S. J.-B. as, 173, 174, 175, 176-7.
Chaplin, Miss. See Mrs. Chaplin Ayrton, M.D.
Charteris, Rev. Professor, 273, 300, 321, 361, 493.
Children’s Hospital, 456.
Christian World, The, 363.
Christison, Professor, Sir Robert, 229, 235, 236, 237, 240, 241, 242, 245, 249, 258, 273, 286, 299, 311, 315, 318, 331, 335, 337, 345, 418, 449, 508.
——’s Assistant, 299, 306, 307, 308, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315.
569Church Review, The, 298 (and footnote).
Cives Academiae Edinensis, 264.
Clark, Dr. Ann, 436, 437, 438, 536 (footnote).
Clouston, Dr. (Sir Thomas), 460, 486, 526.
Cobbe, Miss Frances Power, 152 (letter from), 158, 171, 178, 243, 266, 320.
Colenso, Bishop, 141, 142, 145, 146.
Colston, Treasurer, 320.
Commune, The, 326.
Contemporary Review, The, 442.
Cordery, Miss Bertha. See Mrs. S. R. Gardiner.
- Miss Emma, 66, 153, 155, 528.
- Miss Henrietta. See Mrs. T. W. Jex-Blake.
- James, 66, 473, 528.
- Family, 66, 83, 252, 389, 421.
Courant, The Edinburgh, 291.
- Evening, 312, 315.
Cowan, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, 389.
Cowell, Dr., 419.
Cowper Temple, M.P., W. (Lord Mount Temple), 409 (letter and telegram from), 410-411 (letter from), 412, 414, 429, 430, 433, 434, 467.
Coxe, M.D., Sir James, 300.
Craig, Miss Agnes, 510.
Craik, Mrs., 55.
Craufurd, Professor, 241, 258, 273, 360.
Critchett, F.R.C.S., George, 431, 432.
Crocker, Miss, 163.
Cropper, James, 504.
Crudelius, Mrs., 106.
Cubitt, Miss Henrietta (Mrs. Orr), 106.
- Miss Jane, 37, 38, 366.
- Maria Emily. See Mrs. Jex-Blake.
- Mrs. P., 151.
- Thomas of Honing Hall, 2.
- family, 59.

Dahms, Dr. Anna, 335, 377.
Daily News, The, 421-2, 443.
Daily Review, The Edinburgh, 119, 236, 263, 293, 294.
Davies, Miss Emily, 118, 219.
Deas, Lord, 392.
570De Dreux, Miss, 107, 108, 124.
Degrees, American, 189, 190, 322.
Derby, Hasket, 192.
Dimock, Dr. Susan, 190 (and footnote), 191.
Disraeli, Benjamin, 407, 408, 409, 412.
Dispenser, S. J.-B. as, 173.
Dispensary, S. J.-B.’s, 459, 460, 461, 462, 468, 486, 487, 495, 494.
Driving Tours, Part III. Chap. VI.
Dublin University, 226.
Duggan, Rev. Father, 529-30.
Dunham, Great, 59, 63.
Du Pre, Miss Ursula, 221-3, 229, 230 (and footnote), 242, 247, 252, 262, 279, 287, 295 (letter), 328, 329, 351, 362, 386-7 (letter), 433, 437, 463, 464, 467, 468, 471, 472, 476-8 (letters to), 481, 482, 486, 489, 490, 495, 497, 507, 509 (letter to), 516, 528.
Durham University, 392-4.

Edinburgh Extra-Mural School, 276-9, 285, 286, 330, 331, 491, 492, 496. Appendix D.
Edinburgh, First visit to, Part I. Chap. IX.
Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children, 476 (footnote), 487.
Edinburgh Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, 309, 330, 395, 491, 492.
Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. See Table of Contents.
Edinburgh School of Medicine for Women, 496-502, 504, 507, 508.
Edinburgh University. See Table of Contents.
Edington, Mrs., 510.
- Miss, 510.
Eggishorn, The, 375.
Ellaby, Dr. Charlotte, 474.
Eliott-Lockhart, Miss C. H., 508, 528.
Emerson, Edith, 166.
- Edward, 166.
- Ellen, 166.
- R. W., 161, 161-2 (letter from), 166-7.
- Mrs., 166-7.
571Employment of Women, Society for the, 81.
Enabling Bill (Cowper Temple, i.e. Bill “to remove doubts”), 403, 404, 410; (Russell Gurney), 434.
Englishwoman’s Year Book, 494.
“Englishwomen’s Educational Union,” 125, 127.
Essays and Reviews, 109.
Evans, Mrs. De Lacy. See Mrs. Russel.
- Miss M. J. (Mrs. Heath), 60, 70, 73, 82, 151.
- family, 59, 61.

Fawcett, Rt. Hon. Henry, 479.
Findlay, J. R., 233, 262, 320.
Fitch, J., 464.
Foreign Degrees Bill, 429, 433.
Forsyth, —, Q.C., M.P., 433.
Forster, Rt. Hon. W. E., 404.
Fortingal, 516.
Foster, Mrs. A. B., 510.
Fortnightly Review, The, 293, 429.
Fraser, Professor Alexander, 234, 240.
Fraser, Sherriff Patrick, 33, 332, 334, 335, 358.

Galloway, LL.D., Miss Janet, 501.
Gamgee, Dr. Arthur, 278.
Gardiner, Professor S. R., 531.
- Mrs., 66, 431, 490, 503, 528, 531.
Garrett, Miss Elizabeth. See Mrs. Garrett Anderson.
Gaskell, Mrs., 154.
Geddes, Mrs., 510.
George Eliot, 455.
Gifford, Lord Ordinary, Chap. XIV. throughout, 377, 379, 381, 391, 392, 403.
Gilbert, Thomas, 310, 332, 333.
Gladstone, Rt. Hon. W. E., 405, 409, 465.
Glasgow Herald, The, 315.
Glasgow Mail, 412.
Glasgow University, 221, 226, 246, 413.
Glencorse, Lord. See Inglis.
Gordon (Lord Advocate), 249, 287, 412.
Goschen, G. J. (First Viscount), 252.
Göttingen, 124-6, 132.
Gover, Mrs., 27.
572Grand Ducal Institute, 126-8, Chap. XI. passim.
Grant, Sir Alexander, 235, 241, 244, 247, 249, 250, 252, 258, 279, 335, 401, Appendix F.
- Lady, 235, 236.
Granville, Earl, 444.
Greig, David, 320.
Grévy, President, 325.
Grote, George, 47.
Guardian, The, 158, 274.
Gull, Sir William, 444.
Gunton, Rev. Thomas, 323.
- Mrs., 323, 513.
Gurney, Mr. Russell, 405, 406, 407 (letter from), 409, 410, 411, 429, 434.
Guthrie, Rev. Dr., 109, 344, 346.

Handyside, Dr. P. D., 278, 279, 285, 287-9 (letter from), 291, 292, 298.
Harris, Miss Mary, 90, 101.
Hayden, Dr., 439.
Harvard University, 168, 171, 191, 192, 195, 196, 199, 204, 206, 239.
Heath, Mrs. See Miss M. J. Evans.
Heaton, Miss Martha (Mrs. HillhouseHilhouse), 84.
Henderson, Professor, 235, 237.
Heywood, Mr., 444.
Hidber, Professor, 438.
Hill, Miss Miranda, 90, 101, 105, 125, 344, 362.
- Miss Octavia, 84-94, 96, 98, 99, 101, 108, 110, 112, 116, 125, 133, 181, 199, 238, 258, 266, 468, 538.
Hill, Mrs., 87, 89, 92.
Hill, Mrs. A. R., 510.
- Dr., President of Harvard, 168, 171, 190-1.
Hill Burton, Mrs., 320.
Hillsdale College, 168, 171.
Hoare, Miss Elizabeth, 161.
Hodgson, Professor William B., 361, 399 (letter from), 400, 401, 402.
- Mrs., 510.
Hoggan, Dr., 292, 346.
Holmes, Dr. Oliver Wendell, 191.
Honing Hall, 2, 60, 151.
Hope, Dr., 269.
Hope Scholarship, 269, 295, 317, 418.
573Hope of Drylaw, Mrs., 320.
Hopgood, James, 442, 443.
- Mrs., 442.
Houghton, Lord, 402.
Hughes, Miss. See “Alice.”
Hughes, Thomas, 405.
Humphry, M.D., Sir George, 220.
Huxley, T. H., 383, 384, 416, 418.
Hubbard, Miss Louisa, 402, 494.
Hutton, R. H., 444.

Inglis, Chancellor, Lord Glencorse, Lord Justice General of Scotland, 240, 260, 269, 332, 396.
Innes, Professor Cosmo, 239, 240, 361.
Irby, Miss Pauline, 402, 421, 422, 432, 433, 461-2, 465, 495, 498.
“Irish Brigade,” 292, 293, 294.
Irish University, 435.
Irving, Sir Henry, 458.

Jack, Professor, 315.
Jagannadham, Dr. Annie, 504.
James, Professor William, 531.
Jane Eyre, 108, 111, 113.
Jenkin, Professor Fleeming, 239, 241, 271 (letter from), 359, 360, 361.
Jenkinson, Lady (Mrs. Ballantyne), 151, 159, 180, 229, 247, 258, 481, 487, 528.
Jenner, Sir William, 445.
Jenny Geddes, 297 (footnote).
Jerviswoode, Lord, 348, 392.
Jessel, Rt. Hon. Sir G., 444.
Jex-Blake, Thomas, 1-17, 20, 21, 28, 29, 30, 37, 41, 45, 48, 50, 52, 59, 63, 66, 67, 74, 88, 91, 108, 122, 140, 146, 148, 150, 158, 159, 160, 177, 194, 202, 203, 205, 207, 208, 213, 283, 389, 464.
- Letters from: 15, 26, 30, 35-6, 39-41, 67-8, 70-1, 72, 79, 88-9, 112, 185-6, 252-3, 385-6.
- Letters to: 19, 20, 22-3, 36-7, 68-70, 71-2.
Jex-Blake, Mrs., 1, 2, 3, 9, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 19, 21, 28, 29, 31, 32, 37, 39, 42, 50, 51, 52, 54, 56, 58, 59, 65, 66, 70, 74, 81, 82, 85, 88, 91, 93, 96, 108, 110, 111, 113, 120, 124, 135, 137, 139, 140, 147, 148, 158,574 168, 180, 182, 185, 187, 201, 208, 213, 214, 217, 219, 224, 226, 237, 238, 239, 255, 265, 267, 279, 306, 310, 323, 365, 366, 389, 391, 407, 421, 423, 439, 445, 456, 470, 471, 472, 473, 474, 475, 518.
- Letters from: 4-5, 13-4, 15, 16, 25, 30, 35, 41, 43, 44, 45, 73, 89, 111, 112, 113, 121, 134, 137, 138, 139-40, 145-6, 159-60, 185, 279, 309, 310, 342, 363, 375, 384-5, 391, 438, 440, 471.
- Letters to: 5, 6, 19, 24, 47, 48, 81, 86-7, 97-8, 114-5, 121, 121-4, 129-30, 131, 141-5, 163, 164-6, 172-5, 176-7, 184, 193-4, 194-5, 197-8, 200-1, 203, 204-7, 365-6, 380, 459-60, 471.
Jex-Blake, Very Rev. T. W., 1, 4, 14, 16, 28, 45, 66, 69, 71, 185, 202, 208, 219, 229, 240, 316, 320, 405, 417, 438, 457, 513.
- Letters from: 169-70, 266-7, 303-4, 307-8, 353-4, 375, 384.
- Letters to: 4, 170-1.
Jex-Blake, Mrs. T. W. (Miss H. Cordery), 49, 66, 171, 185, 353, 354, 384, 438.
Jex-Blake family, 171, 185.
Jex-Blake, Miss C. A., 1, 3, 4, 9, 13, 14, 15, 28, 29, 38, 39, 43, 56, 60, 85, 87, 106, 119, 158, 177, 194, 198, 207, 214, 438, 528.
- Letters from: 43-4.
- Letters to: 176, 484-5.
Jex-Blake, Elinor (Mrs. Miles), 44, 58, 60, 61, 73, 75, 82-83, 110, 113, 156, 459.
- Ferrier, 58, 59, 73.
- Miss Kate (Mrs. Forde), 44.
- Miss Sarah (Mrs. Brown), 42, 59, 60, 61, 73, 82, 385.
- William, of Swanton Abbots, 2.
Jowett, Professor Benjamin, 235.
‘Juryman, A,’ 316-7 (letter from).

Keiller, Dr., 279, 330.
Keily, Miss S. E., 523.
Kelland, Professor, 239, 258.
Kimberley, Lord, 444.
King’s and Queen’s College of Physicians, Ireland, 435, 436, 438.
575Kingsley, Charles, 63.
- Henry, 294.
- Mrs. Henry, 292, 294, 321, 373, 461.
Kinnear, Lord, 508.
Kirkland, Miss E. S., 510.
Knowles, James, 502.
Knox, Dr. Robert, 497.
Kunz, Madame, 510.

Lancet, The, 280, 282, 283, 319, 336, 337, 362, 383.
Laurence, Samuel, 76, 187, 205.
Law (Lord Provost of Edinburgh), 296, 299, 304, 305, 322.
“Lawyer, A” (letter from), 317.
Laycock, Professor, 236, 237, 241, 248, 259, 273, 286, 313.
Lectureship on Midwifery (S. J.-B.’s), 504.
Lee, Dr., 460.
Leith Hospital, 479.
Lister, Professor (Lord), 273, 389.
Liston, Professor, 258, 335.
Littlejohn, Dr. (Sir Henry), 286, 296, 336, 337, 362, 383.
Liveing, Professor, 220.
Liverpool Mercury, The, 380.
London Hospital, 441.
—— School of Medicine for Women, 421-2, 429, 433, 443, 445, 449, 464, 502.
—— University, The, 117, 219, 441, 444, 445, 448, 456, 479.
Lorimer, Professor, 239, 240, 241, 258, 361.
- Letters from: 249-50, 331-2.
Lorimer, Mrs., 239, 250, 251, 332.
Loring, —, 195.
Lothian, Marquis of, 507.
Lowe, M.P., Rt. Hon. Robert (Viscount Sherbrooke), 507.
Lubbock, Sir John, 404, 444.

Macadam, Dr. Stevenson, 495.
Macara, Mrs., 516.
Macdonald, Dr. Angus, 459.
McDougall, Dr. Mary, 537.
Macgregor, Dr. Jessie, 525.
Mackenzie, Dr. J., letters from: 321, 373-4.
Maclagan, Professor Sir Douglas, 237.
576M‘Laren, Dr. Agnes, 320, 321, 323, 324 (letter from), 325, 341, 362, 375, 385, 386 (letter from), 387, 390, 392, 394, 410, 413, 426, 471, 528.
- Duncan, M.P., 296, 304, 346, 414, 416.
- Mrs. Priscilla Bright, 363, 510.
Macmillan and Co., 168, 187, 188, 253, 491.
Macmillan, Mr. Alexander (letter from), 218.
M‘Pherson, Professor, 239, 258.
Mair, Miss S. E. S., 510.
Manchester, Projected Ladies’ College, 152-6, 200.
Mann, Mrs. Horace, 166.
Mannheim, Part I. Chap. XI., 324, 499.
Marshall, M.D., Mrs. Mary, 289, 319, 340, 351.
Martineau, Harriet, 320, 335 (letter from).
- James, 216, 362.
Massachusetts General Hospital, 191, 192, 196.
- Eye and Ear Infirmary, 191, 192.
Massingberd Mundy, Miss, 292, 335, 377, 378-9 (letter from).
Masson, Professor David, 106, 221, 226, 228, 231, 234, 239, 241, 243, 245, 250, 258, 264, 270, 272, 273, 274, 305, 309, 345, 346, 360, 361, 363, 388, 407, 411, 425, 428, 437, 449, 499, 524.
- Letters from: 228-9, 247-9, 273, 408, 409, 411-12.
Masson, Mrs., 263 (letter from), 428.
Masson family, 306.
Matriculation (First) of women in Edinburgh University, 264.
Maurice, Frederick Denison, 63, 66, 70, 110, 203.
Medical Women, 223, 224, 265, 380, 402, 421, 479, 491, 492, 493.
Medicine as a career, 182, 183, 184, 187.
Menzies, Mr. and Mrs., 516.
Ministry, thoughts of, 177, 182.
Middlesex Hospital, 456.
Mitchell, Miss Maria, 163.
Millar, Mrs., 510.
577Millar, Mrs. Grant, 510.
- White, 310, 325, 334, 357, 382, 392, 410.
Milne Murray, Dr., 504.
Monck Mason, Miss Dora. See Mrs. Burn Murdoch.
Moore, Dr., 52.
Moorfields Hospital, 456.
Moorhead, Dr. Alice (Mrs. Langwill), 508.
Moncrieff, Lord Advocate (Lord Justice Clerk), 244, 250, 252, 332, 396, 413.
Moray, The Countess of, 524.
Morse, Rev. T. C. D., letter from, 132, 153, 156, 158.
Mount Temple, Lord. See Cowper Temple.
Muirhead, Professor, 239, 240, 241, 248, 338.
Munro Ferguson, Lady Helen, 524.
Mure, Lord, 313, 314, 392, 396.
Music, 138.
Myers, Frederick, 474.

“National Association,” 335, 345, 491, 509.
New England Hospital for Women and Children, 162, 165, 172, 188, 189, 197, 206, 285.
New York Infirmary, 204.
Newman, Professor, 223 (letter from), 223.
Niagara, 167, 168.
Nichol, Mrs., 300, 303 (letter from), 320, 354, 464, 510.
Nicholson, Dr. Alleyne, 276-7 (letter from).
Nicolson, Alexander, 249, 273, 336 (letter from), 357-8.
Nineteenth Century, The, 402, 442, 449, 502.
Norton, Arthur, 256, 420, 421, 426, 428, 447, 457.

Oakeley, Professor Sir Herbert, 240.
Oberlin College, 168, 171.
O’Halloran, The, 293, 294.
Ormidale, Lord, 392.
Orr, General (Captain), 106.
Orr, Mrs. (Miss Henrietta Cubitt), 106.
Orr, Miss Margaret, 106, 110, 229, 230.
578Orr Ewing, —, M.P., 410, 411.
Osler, Smith, 444, 479-80.

Padua University, 241.
Paget, Sir James, 431, 444.
Palaus, Fräulein von (Baroness), 127, 130, 133, 134, 136, 137, 144, 147, 148.
Pall Mall, The, 195, 300.
Palmer, Sir Roundell (Lord Selborne), 241.
Paris University, 228, 229, 235, 239, 279, 353, 354, 377, 400.
Paton, Miss M. G., 510.
Peabody, Miss, 161, 166.
Pechey, Dr. Edith (Mrs. Pechey Phipson), 254, 256, 257, 262, 267, 269, 270, 271, 272, 274, 275, 289, 293, 303, 307, 311, 325, 336, 341, 364, 365, 366, 377, 378, 382, 384, 418, 424, 425, 431, 432, 434, 435, 436, 437, 438, 439, 444, 449, 459, 464, 465, 478, 486, 492, 493, 505, 514, 518, 519, 528.
- Letters from: 317-9, 359-60, 362, 383.
Pechey, Rev. William, 275, 279, 493.
Peel Ritchie, Dr., 460, 525.
Phin, Rev. Dr., 249, 260.
Phipson, H. M., 505, 528.
Playfair, Professor (Sir Lyon), 237, 240, 241, 250, 251, 411, 412, 413, 414, 416, 428.
- Letters from: 241-2.
Plumptre, E. H. (Dean of Wells), 63, 64, 69, 113, 150, 152, 155.
Portal, Miss Lucy (letter from), 26-7.
Provosts (Lord) of Edinburgh:
- Chambers, 244.
- Law, 296, 299, 304, 305.
- Cowan, 389.
Professional Examination, 330.
Puerperal Fever, S. J.-B.’s thesis on, 437.
Pulsford, Rev. Dr., 109, 110, 112, 145.
Punch, 44, 275, 356, 414, 487.
Putnam-Jacobi, Dr. M., 224, 424.

Quain, Dr., 445.
Queen Margaret College, 501.
Queen Mary, H.M., 487.
Queen Victoria, H.M., 138, 259, 286.

579Rainy, Rev. Principal, 109.
Raleigh, Rev. Dr., 160.
Ramsay, Admiral, Sir William, 320.
Raymond, Dr., 166.
Reade, Charles, 291, 435, 498.
Recorder of London. See Gurney, Russell.
Reid, W. L., 336.
Rendel, Lady, 402.
Richmond and Gordon, Duke of, 433.
Richter, Dr. Otto, 376.
Riot at Surgeons’ Hall, Part II. Chap. VIII.
Ripon, Marquis of, 389, 466, 479.
Ristori, 458.
Robson, W., 334, 347.
Robertson’s Sermons, 139, 142, 230, 382.
Rogers, Professor, 164, 195.
- Mrs., 162, 178.
Rose, Mrs. Hugh, 510.
Royal Free Hospital, 442, 444, 456.
Royal Infirmary, 286, 287, 288, 296, 298, 299, 300, 308, 340, Chap. XII. various.
Rukhmabai, Dr., letter from, 493, 504.
Rumbling Bridge Hotel, 516.
Russel, Alexander, 233, 294, 305, 332, 340, 349, 380.
- Mrs. (Mrs. de Lacy Evans), 236, 243, 263, 289, 292, 307, 332, 340, 341, 349, 492.
Russell, Lord Arthur, 444.

Sackermena, 6-10, 18, 50, 120, 335, 447.
Sadie’s Poems, 230, 242, 488.
St. Andrews University, 119, 221, 225, 226, 354, 392, 394, 395, 413, 417, 492, 507, 508, 509.
St. Giles’ Cathedral, 296, 297.
St. Louis College, 168, 171.
St. Mary’s Hospital, 255, 256.
Salamanca University, 241.
Salzmann, Dr., 215, 256, 395.
Sanders, Professor, 273.
Sanderson, Dr., 292, 313.
Sandon, Viscount, 429, 433, 434.
Saville, Dr. Lillie, (letter from) 390, 488, 528.
Scharlieb, Mrs., 478, 524.
Schoolfellow’s criticisms of S. J.-B., 33-4.
580School Board (Edinburgh), 389.
Schultz, Fräulein, 437.
Scotsman, The, 119, 233, 234, 249, 253, 262, 275, 298, 305, 306, 310, 312, 313, 316, 322, 337, 342, 348, 401, 412, 450, 465.
Scott, Dr. Sam., 148.
Scott Moncrieff, Sir Colin, 500.
Selborne, Lord (Sir Roundell Palmer), 241, 404, 434.
- Lady, 405.
Serajevo, 432, 435.
Sewall, Dr. Lucy, 161, 162, 163, 165, 172, 173, 174, 176, 177, 181, 182, 183, 187, 193, 197, 198, 201, 202, 205, 206, 215, 229, 230, 237, 238, 302, 327, 328, 329, 377, 378, 379, 448, 459, 462, 468, 476, 506.
- Letters from: 162, 175, 186, 215, 405.
- Letters to: 16 (footnote), 199, 213, 214-5, 216, 219, 221, 224, 232-3, 246, 255, 259, 267, 327, 377-8, 379, 464, 487.
Sewall, Hon. Samuel, 162, 177, 205, 259, 506.
Sewall, The Prophecy of Samuel (1697), 162, 506-7.
Shaftesbury, Earl of, 363, 427, 434.
Shairp, Professor, 226.
Shandwick Place University Classes for Women, 106.
Sherbrooke, Viscount. See Lowe, Rt. Hon. Robert.
Shewen, Dr. Alfred, 404.
Shove, Dr. Edith, 435, 444, 479.
Sibbald, Dr. (Sir John), 525.
Sidgwick, Professor Henry, 226, 245, 342, 343.
- Letters from: 219, 221, 245, 225-6.
Simon, J., 389, 429, 430.
Simpson, Sir James, 221, 233 (footnote), 234, 237.
Skelton, Mrs., 510.
Slaves and Slavery, 168, 171, 182 (footnote).
Sleighing, 197.
Smith, Professor Piazzi, 240.
- Southwood, Dr., 96.
- Dr. William, 444.
Social Science Congress, 402.
Society of Apothecaries, 232, 255.
581Society for Employment of Women, 81.
Soddy, Mrs. Frederick. See Beilby, Miss Winifred.
Somerville, Mr. Robert, 498.
Spence, Professor, 236, 237, 258, 498.
Spectator, The, 270, 274, 295, 399, 401, 504.
Stansfeld, Rt. Hon. Sir James, 274, 309, 381, 388, 389, 402, 404, 406, 410, 414, 429, 432, 433, 444, 445, 446, 449, 491, 502.
- Letters from, 407-8, 409, 441-2, 443, 507.
Stansfeld, Mrs. Caroline, 441.
Stationer, The, 188.
Stevenson, Miss Flora, 320, 325.
- Miss Louisa, 325, 390, 510.
- R. L., 340 (letter from).
- Professor, 240, 258.
Stirling Maxwell, Sir William, 360, 411.
Storar, Dr., 445.
Struthers, Dr., 497.
- Professor, 273.
Stuart, M.P., James, 225, 226, 343.
- Letter from, 342-3.
Suffrage, Woman, 309, 323, 327, 465, 485.
Syme, Professor, 258, 274, 295, 399, 401, 504.
Symes Thompson, Dr., 438.

Tait, Professor, 239, 240, 241, 258, 270, 273, 279, 335, 360, 416.
- Letter from, 338-9.
Tait, Lawson, 432.
Taylor, Mrs., 59.
- Mrs. Peter, 161.
Taylour, Miss, 323.
Teaching, Comparison of English and American, 169, 170.
Teed, Mrs., 13, 17, 18, 35, 46, 48, 53, 55, 69, 71, 133.
- Miss, 13, 16, 46, 175.
Temple, Miss, 185.
Tennyson, Alfred, 63, 345.
Terry, Miss Ellen, 458.
Thackeray, S. J.-B.’s likeness to, 76.
Thomson, Professor A. J., 500.
- Walter, 380.
- Sir Wyville, 416, 418.
582Thorne, Mrs. Isabel, 256, 260, 268, 289, 292, 307, 311, 322, 325, 336. 389, 395, 396, 402, 418, 420, 425, 431, 434, 435, 436, 447, 448, 449, 462, 467, 505.
- Letter from, 253.
Thornton, Mrs., 77.
Times, The, 108, 270, 273, 286, 375, 400, 401, 417, 421, 472, 495.
Trayner, Lord, 308, 494, 495.
- Mrs. (Lady), 494, 495.
Trench, R. C. (Archbishop), 63, 64, 216.
Tulloch, Principal, 119, 355, 413, 427.
Turner, Professor (Sir William), 235, 237, 241, 247, 248, 258, 273, 293, 336, 389.
Tutorship (mathematical), 67-73.
Tweedie, Mrs. Alec., 63 (footnote).
Tyng, Dr., 166.
Tytler, Professor, 239.

Unitarianism, 109, 153, 154, 179, 180 (footnote).
University. See Aberdeen, Bologna, Cambridge, etc.
Universities Commission, 508.
Universities (Scotland) Bill, 507.
Unwin, Miss Hermione, 480-1.
Unwin, Mrs. S. P., 84, 124, 202, 328, 329, 351.
- Letters to, 100, 130-1, 149-50, 156-8, 167-8, 184.
- Letters from, 186.
Unwin, S. P., 158, 481.
- Letter from, 186.

Villette, 126 (and footnote).

Waldegrave, Dowager Countess, 373.
Walker, Miss, 279.
- Miss Lucy. See Mrs. Unwin.
- Dr. Jane, 524.
Watson, Dr. (Sir Patrick Heron), 278, 284, 286, 340, 349, 425, 459, 466, 467, 472, 493, 509.
- Letters from, 287-9, 332.
Wedderburn, Sir David, 360, 403, 404, 405, 406, 407.
Welstood, Mrs., 510.
Weisse, Herr Heinrich, 107.
Westminster Hospital, 419.
Wigham, Miss Eliza, 510.
583Wilberforce, William, 182.
Williams, Mrs., 63.
- Mrs. Agnes. See Miss Woodhouse.
Wilson, Professor John, 239, 240, 258, 272, 273, 292, 293, 310, 332-3, 335, 359.
Wilson, Mr. Robert, 292, 293 (and footnote).
- Letter from, 293-4.
Windydene, 390, Part iii. Chap. vii.
Wolstenholme, Miss. See Mrs. Wolstenholme Elmy.
Woman Hater, The, 291, 435, 498.
Women’s Medical College, New York, 204, 206.
Women, Society for Employment of, 81.
Women’s Work and Women’s Culture, 221, 223, 224, 243, 253, 266.
Wood, Dr. Alexander, 287, 335, 336, 337.
Woodhouse, Miss Agnes (Mrs. Williams), 64, 65, 70, 74, 78, 83, 107.
Words for the Way, 158.
“Working men, A few,” 321.
Wyld, A. G., 510.
Wyld, Mrs. Margaret, 510.
- Letter from, 308.
Wyld, R. S., 320.
Yarrow, 516.
Young, Lord Advocate, 310, 312, 313, 313, 331, 335, 356, 413.

Zurich University, 190, 235, 239, 278, 279, 353, 354.

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References

1. Appendix A.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Appendix __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.

2. The paragraphs and brackets are the writer’s own.

3. Note the similarity of the name to her signature on p. 5. Many a little girl has loved to imagine herself a fairy princess. It would be interesting to know whether any other ever dreamed of being a “Despotic Emperor.”

3. Note the similarity of the name to her signature on p. 5. Many little girls have loved to imagine themselves as fairy princesses. It would be interesting to know if anyone else ever dreamed of being a “Despotic Emperor.”

4. She would probably not have elected to be there on the morning when some imp induced Sophy to tip over a bench on to the row of girls kneeling in front of her.

4. She likely wouldn’t have chosen to be there that morning when some mischievous person convinced Sophy to knock over a bench onto the line of girls kneeling in front of her.

5. She used to say that her intimate familiarity with the details of harnessing and all stable matters was due to the fact that when they were spending a holiday in the country her father allowed them to have a pony and trap on condition that, with the exception of actual grooming, the children managed it entirely themselves.

5. She often said that her close knowledge of how to handle harnessing and everything related to the stable came from the fact that when they were on holiday in the countryside, her father let them have a pony and cart on the condition that, except for grooming, the kids took care of everything by themselves.

6. “I must tell you my experience,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake to Dr. Lucy Sewall a quarter of a century later, “not my own practice, it was not the fashion of my day (and having lost my three eldest I was very anxious and fidgetty):—Where children are trusted and have a good deal of independence, and their tempers not fretted about little things, they grow up more open, confiding and trustworthy.”

6. “I have to share my experience,” Mrs. Jex-Blake writes to Dr. Lucy Sewall twenty-five years later, “not my own practice, as it wasn't the trend of my time (and after losing my three eldest, I was very anxious and restless):—When children are trusted and given a good amount of independence, and their tempers aren't bothered over little things, they become more open, trusting, and reliable.”

7. She had her own little garden at Ramsgate.

7. She had her own small garden at Ramsgate.

8. Her brother had called at the school, immaculately dressed, and had behaved to the schoolmistress so charmingly that poor Sophy felt herself quite left out in the cold, and had doubtless responded with positive rudeness. What sort of visit was this from a beloved brother?

8. Her brother had dropped by the school, looking sharp, and had treated the schoolmistress so nicely that poor Sophy felt completely overlooked, and she probably reacted with some real rudeness. What kind of visit was this from a beloved brother?

9. There is no other reference to the visit to Worthing.

9. There are no other mentions of the trip to Worthing.

10. From their earliest years the children were drilled in the virtue of economy. The references to the altering and letting-down of frocks, the calculation of pence for ribbon or frill, the careful computation of the length of time a pair of boots might be expected to last,—all these form instructive reading when one bears in mind the social position of the family and the large sums of money which the parents habitually gave away.

10. From a young age, the kids were taught the importance of being frugal. The discussions about altering and letting down dresses, figuring out the cost of ribbon or frills, and carefully calculating how long a pair of boots would last—these all provide valuable lessons when you consider the family's social standing and the large amounts of money the parents regularly donated.

11. “Dec. 20th, 1859. Strange truth this: How already that hope has changed!”

11. “Dec. 20th, 1859. What a strange truth: How much that hope has already changed!”

12. This longing for rest was something deeper than the ordinary sentimentality of adolescence. She always said that by nature she was lazy, and the saying was not devoid of truth.

12. This craving for rest was something more profound than the usual feelings of adolescence. She often claimed that she was naturally lazy, and there was some truth to that.

13. It was an interesting and typical stage in the development of women when a girl found it necessary to “go into hysterics” in order to convince her father of her right to an education.

13. It was an interesting and typical stage in the development of women when a girl felt she had to “throw a fit” to convince her father that she deserved an education.

14. See Mrs. Alec Tweedie’s interesting record of “The First College for Women.”

14. Check out Mrs. Alec Tweedie’s fascinating account of “The First College for Women.”

15. The reference is not to S. J.-B.’s own parents.

15. The reference isn't to S. J.-B.’s own parents.

16. Life of Octavia Hill.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. The Life of Octavia Hill.

17. Life of Octavia Hill.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Life of Octavia Hill.

18. Miss Heaton.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ms. Heaton.

19. By the charm of his personality, she means, of course; not by design.

19. By the allure of his personality, she means, of course; not intentionally.

20. Life of Octavia Hill.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Life of Octavia Hill.

21. Until circumstances rendered Miss Hill independent of such aid.

21. Until situations made Miss Hill self-sufficient without such help.

22. Dr. Southwood Smith, Miss Hill’s grandfather.

22. Dr. Southwood Smith, Miss Hill's grandfather.

23. Miss Miranda Hill.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ms. Miranda Hill.

24. Poems by A. A. Procter.

25. The letter has not been preserved.

25. The letter hasn’t been kept.

26. More than a year later Miss Hill wrote: “I wonder if it would be any comfort to you if you could know the infinite love the thought of you, specially of any pain of yours, calls up ... how passionately do I cling to a like trust in you that your pain may not be tenfold increased ... by any sense of desertion in spirit.... And yet, Sophy, this thought of me must fail you as time goes on, for you cannot see why I act as I do.... My love will be ready for you when He who is teaching us both shall bring us together again.”

26. More than a year later, Miss Hill wrote: “I wonder if it would bring you any comfort to know the endless love that the thought of you, especially any pain you’re feeling, brings up in me... how deeply I hold onto the hope that your pain isn’t made worse by any feeling of abandonment... And yet, Sophy, this thought of me will likely fade for you as time goes on, because you won’t understand why I act the way I do... My love will be waiting for you when the one who is guiding us both brings us back together again.”

27. Talking of the difficulties in the way of Practical Anatomy, someone had suggested that Miss Garrett should get ‘nice little subjects.’

27. Speaking of the challenges in Practical Anatomy, someone had suggested that Miss Garrett should get 'nice little subjects.'

28. Englishwoman’s Educational Union,—a society planned by S. J.-B., which should form a meeting ground for really qualified teachers, and also a means of registration.

28. The Englishwoman’s Educational Union—a group organized by S. J.-B. that aims to provide a meeting space for genuinely qualified teachers, as well as a way to register them.

29. Miss Miranda Hill’s loyalty and devotion to S. J.-B. never flagged.

29. Miss Miranda Hill’s loyalty and devotion to S. J.-B. never wavered.

30. Mrs. Jex-Blake writes about this time,—“I feel such a real sympathy for the English teacher—Lucy Snow—it is quite a pity you haven’t it with you—I think your Institut and the Park and Ducal Palace tally very well with Villette. Fortunately you have no male tyrant like Monsieur Paul,—do you remember Miss Lucie being locked into an attic, with beetles, a rat, and possibly a ghost:—to learn in a few hours a part in a play?”

30. Mrs. Jex-Blake reflects on this time, “I feel a real connection to the English teacher—Lucy Snow. It’s such a shame you don’t have it with you. I think your school and the park and Ducal Palace match up really well with Villette. Luckily, you don’t have a male tyrant like Monsieur Paul—remember when Miss Lucie was locked in an attic with beetles, a rat, and maybe even a ghost, just to learn her lines for a play in a few hours?”

31. The account is really written some weeks later, as there was great delay in the arrival of the box in which she had packed her diary.

31. The account was actually written a few weeks later because there was a significant delay in the arrival of the box where she had packed her diary.

32. The building had originally been a monastery.

32. The building was originally a monastery.

33. She did not always find this quite so easy. On October 17th she writes in her diary:diary: “Being all but late this morning, it is decreed that for one week from this time S. J-B. rises every morning while the stroke of the half hour and minute hand are ‘one and the same straight line.’

33. She didn’t always find it this easy. On October 17th, she writes in her journal:diary: “Having almost overslept this morning, it is decided that for one week from now, S. J-B. will get up every morning when the minute and hour hands are in a straight line.”

“Now, Resolution:”

"Now, Resolution:"

It is scarcely necessary to say that Resolution responded to the appeal.

It’s hardly necessary to mention that Resolution answered the call.

34. “I an’t just. There’s a fact. I’m sorry for it, but it’s true. As my sky is bluer or greyer, as I see, or think I see, more or less into a child’s character, the scale varies. Justice is blind no longer, but gives a chuck to one side or the other.”

34. “I can’t just. It’s a fact. I’m sorry about it, but it’s true. As my sky is bluer or grayer, as I perceive, or think I perceive, more or less of a child’s character, the balance shifts. Justice isn’t blind anymore, but leans to one side or the other.”

35. Mr. Morse had unwittingly given her some encouragement previously by telling the story of a candidate for Orders, who when asked “If any man broached before you doubts of the divinity of our Lord (‘and I needn’t tell you,’ said Mr. Morse to S. J.-B., ‘what a difficult subject that is’) what answer would you make?”

35. Mr. Morse had unknowingly encouraged her earlier by sharing a story about a candidate for the clergy who, when asked, “If someone brought up doubts about the divinity of our Lord (‘and I don’t need to explain to you,’ said Mr. Morse to S. J.-B., ‘how tricky that topic is’), how would you respond?”

“My Lord, I beg that you won’t suppose that I keep such company.”company.”

“My Lord, I hope you don’t think that I keep such company.”company.”

“Well, but if——?”

“My Lord, I should take up my hat and walk out.”

“My Lord, I should put on my hat and leave.”

“(Prudent too),” comments S. J.-B.

“(Smart too),” comments S. J.-B.

36. Appendix B.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Appendix __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.

37. See inter alia Whittier’s poem, “The Prophecy of Samuel Sewall, 1697.”

37. See among other things Whittier’s poem, “The Prophecy of Samuel Sewall, 1697.”

38. It was only for a very brief period of her life that S. J.-B. would have called herself by this name.

38. She only identified with this name for a short time in her life.

39. The reference is probably to the reply of Wilberforce when asked whether in his struggle for the emancipation of the slaves, he was not neglecting his own soul,—“I had forgotten that I had a soul.”

39. The reference likely relates to Wilberforce's response when he was asked if, in his fight for the freedom of the slaves, he was neglecting his own soul: “I had forgotten that I had a soul.”

40.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.

“But thou wouldst not alone
Be saved, my father! alone
Conquer and come to thy goal,
Leaving the rest in the wild.
*     *     *     *     *
... to thee it was given
Many to save with thyself;
And, at the end of the day,
O faithful shepherd! to come,
Bringing thy sheep in thy hand.”

41. The Schools Inquiry Commission, presumably.

41. The Schools Inquiry Commission, I guess.

42. Appendix C.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Appendix __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__

43. As early as June, 1866, she had written to Dr. Sewall:—“I am glad you are pleased with prospects as to the College; but, however good you may get it to be, take notice (if I study at all) I don’t mean to graduate at any Woman’s College,—on principle,—or else for vanity and ambition sake,—which is it?” Whichever it was, there can be no doubt as to the soundness of the decision, but she little guessed what that decision was to cost.

43. As early as June 1866, she had written to Dr. Sewall: “I’m glad you’re happy with the outlook for the College; but, no matter how good it gets, just know (if I study at all) I don’t plan to graduate from any Women’s College—on principle—or for vanity and ambition—what do you think?” Whatever her reasons were, there is no doubt about the strength of her decision, but she had no idea what that choice would ultimately cost her.

44. Miss Susan Dimock was a student of great promise who afterwards completed her education at Zurich. She was lost at sea in the wreck of the steamer Schiller in May 1875.

44. Miss Susan Dimock was a talented student who later finished her education in Zurich. She tragically lost her life at sea in the sinking of the steamer Schiller in May 1875.

45. Some few intimate friends will recall the evenings, 30 or 40 years later, round the study fire at Windydene, when the white-haired woman would recite Sir Launfal from beginning to end with a subdued enthusiasm that was more expressive than pages of commentary.

45. A few close friends will remember the evenings, 30 or 40 years later, around the study fire at Windydene, when the white-haired woman would recite Sir Launfal from start to finish with a quiet enthusiasm that was more meaningful than pages of commentary.

46. The dog was named Turk, and became a devoted friend.

46. The dog was called Turk and became a loyal companion.

47. “Slightly” is interpolated in the original letter.

47. “Slightly” is included in the original letter.

48. “By the way your accounts of your dress are just a shade contradictory,” writes Miss Du Pre somewhat later. “One day you tell me you look disreputable and plunge me into depths of anxiety! and the next you say you are ‘very tidy.’ Isn’t this more than average inconsistency?”

48. “By the way, your descriptions of your outfit are a bit inconsistent,” writes Miss Du Pre a little later. “One day you say you look messy and leave me worried, and the next day you say you are ‘very neat.’ Isn’t this more than average inconsistency?”

49. After Miss Garrett had obtained her diploma, the Society of Apothecaries passed a resolution forbidding students henceforth to receive any part of their education privately, thus making it impossible even for a woman of means to follow in her steps.

49. After Miss Garrett got her diploma, the Society of Apothecaries made a rule that students could no longer receive any part of their education privately, making it difficult even for a wealthy woman to follow in her footsteps.

50. To the irreparable loss of the women students, Sir James Simpson died in the spring of the following year.

50. Tragically for the female students, Sir James Simpson passed away in the spring of the next year.

51. As Physiology was Dr. Bennett’s speciality, the admission was worth having.

51. Since Physiology was Dr. Bennett’s specialty, getting in was valuable.

52. It must be borne in mind that at this time the question was before the Professors of the Medical Faculty only.

52. It's important to remember that at this time, the question was only being considered by the Professors of the Medical Faculty.

53. “Walking in Darkness.”

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. “Walking in the Dark.”

54. This suggestion had been made to her by one of the legal professors.

54. One of the law professors had suggested this to her.

55. “Tell me everything that happens,” writes Miss Du Pre about this time, “so that I may not lose the thread of your history. I think I know most of the people’s names now, and should not require much explanation. You need not tell me in every letter that Sir A. Grant is the Principal. I’ll try to remember that fact.”

55. “Tell me everything that happens,” Miss Du Pre writes around this time, “so I won’t lose track of your story. I think I know most of the people’s names now and shouldn’t need much explanation. You don’t have to remind me in every letter that Sir A. Grant is the Principal. I’ll do my best to remember that.”

56. Daily Review, Aug. 5, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Daily Review, Aug. 5, 1870.

57. “Strangely” when compared with the families of her contemporaries. “When I told Mamma I had got my certificate,” said a former fellow-student, “she said ‘Have you?’ When I told Uncle, he said ‘What good is it?’ When I told Emily, she said, ‘I am very glad to hear it, but I am very much surprised.’”

57. “Strangely” when compared to the families of her peers. “When I told Mom I got my certificate,” said a former classmate, “she said, ‘Really?’ When I told Uncle, he said, ‘What good is that?’ When I told Emily, she said, ‘I’m really glad to hear that, but I’m quite surprised.’”

58. Money borrowed from Mrs. Jex-Blake was refunded as strictly as if it had been borrowed from a banker.

58. Money borrowed from Mrs. Jex-Blake was paid back with the same rigor as if it had been taken from a bank.

59. Brit. Med. Journal, April 16th, 1870.

59. British Medical Journal, April 16, 1870.

60. The words in brackets were omitted from the resolution, but introduced in the speech supporting it.

60. The words in brackets were left out of the resolution but were included in the speech that supported it.

61. The Times, April 25th, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. The Times, April 25, 1870.

62. April 27th, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. April 27, 1870.

63. April 23rd, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. April 23, 1870.

64. Appendix D.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Appendix __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.

65. Afterwards Sir Patrick Heron Watson.

65. After that, Sir Patrick Heron Watson.

66. June 18th, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. June 18, 1870.

67. Not to be confused with Dr. Hughes Bennett, who had lectured to the women on Physiology.

67. This is not to be confused with Dr. Hughes Bennett, who had given a lecture to the women on Physiology.

68. Lancet, July 9, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Lancet, July 9, 1870.

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.

69. This is a neutral and harmless rephrasing of the points some of the professors actually made when speaking to the students, but it’s best not to keep alive the memory of the words used during a heated argument.

70. The Courant, Nov. 19, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. The Courant, Nov. 19, 1870.

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.

71. One hopes this fact was reported incorrectly; it has never been disputed. Perhaps the Professor was frustrated at being asked to accomplish something by force that could have been entrusted to the honorable feelings of his students.

72. In January, 1886, Mr. Robert Wilson had an article, “Æsculapia Victrix,” in the Fortnightly Review.

72. In January 1886, Mr. Robert Wilson published an article titled “Æsculapia Victrix” in the Fortnightly Review.

73. Spectator, December 3, 1870.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Spectator, December 3, 1870.

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.

74. Someone noted that she was the first woman to speak in St. Giles’ Church since Jenny Geddes hurled her stool at the minister.

75. At a later date (1872) the Church Review became definitely friendly.

75. Later on (1872), the Church Review became clearly supportive.

76. Scotsman, January 3, 1871.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Scotsman, January 3, 1871.

77. January 5, 1871.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. January 5, 1871.

78. “God bless the Massons,” writes Mrs. Jex-Blake, “for cheering my darling on Christmas Day.”

79. Scotsman, May 31, 1871.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Scotsman, May 31, 1871.

80. The amount claimed—£1000—was only specified when the case came into Court, having been inadvertently omitted from the issue.

80. The amount being claimed—£1000—was only stated when the case went to court, as it had been accidentally left out of the documents.

81. Edinburgh Evening Courant, June 1, 1871.

82. “Of course, as you know, I daresay,” writes Professor Jack to S. J.-B. about this time, “all the articles that appear in the Herald are mine, and especially the good ones.”

82. “As you know, I would say,” writes Professor Jack to S. J.-B. around this time, “all the articles in the Herald are my work, especially the good ones.”

83. Mrs. Hill Burton, Rev. Professor Calderwood, Treasurer Colston, J. R. Findlay, Esq., David Greig, Esq., Mrs. Hope of Drylaw, Miss Agnes M‘Laren, Mrs. Nichol, Admiral Sir W. Ramsay, K.C.B., Miss L. Stevenson, and R. S. Wyld, Esq.

84. “If you, as the honoured and trusted representative of us working women, are insulted for us all, the grosser the insult, the more secure you must be of sympathy and gratitude from increasing multitudes of individuals, and of the adoption of our cause as a practical aim by the best part of society in our day.”

84. “If you, as our respected and trusted representative, are insulted on our behalf, the worse the insult, the more certain you can be of the support and appreciation from a growing number of people, and that our cause will be embraced as a practical goal by the best of society today.”

85. Miss Louisa Stevenson and Mrs. Henry Kingsley had kindly undertaken to be Hon. Treasurers of the fund.

85. Miss Louisa Stevenson and Mrs. Henry Kingsley had generously agreed to be Honorary Treasurers of the fund.

86. It is interesting to note that at this time almost all public-spirited women thought the suffrage would be granted before the right to a medical education. They had so nearly got it more than once! “You will accomplish nothing,” S. J-B. was sometimes told, “until we get the vote.” And one is grimly amused to find her expressing a serious fear that the suffrage may be granted before she has had an opportunity of hearing her friend, Miss M‘Laren, speak in support of it. She need have entertained no undue apprehension on this score.

86. It’s worth noting that at this time, nearly all socially conscious women believed that they would win the right to vote before gaining access to a medical education. They had come so close to achieving it more than once! “You won’t get anywhere,” S. J-B. was often told, “until we get the vote.” It’s somewhat darkly funny to see her genuinely worried that suffrage might be awarded before she had a chance to hear her friend, Miss M‘Laren, speak in support of it. She really didn’t have to worry about that.

87. The name by which Miss Louisa Stevenson was affectionately known in the little circle.

87. The name that everyone in the small group lovingly called Miss Louisa Stevenson.

88. Mr. Charles M‘Laren (now Lord Aberconway) and Mr. Walter M‘Laren were of the party.

88. Mr. Charles M'Laren (now Lord Aberconway) and Mr. Walter M'Laren were part of the group.

89. Clerk of the University.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. University Clerk.

90. The dates of these three letters are correctly given. They were all delivered by hand.

90. The dates on these three letters are accurate. They were all personally delivered.

91. Lancet, November 4, 1871.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Lancet, November 4, 1871.

92. “The Court find it inexpedient at present to rescind the said resolutions and regulations, and therefore decline to give effect to the decision of the Senatus. The Court must not be understood as indicating by this deliverance any opinion as to the claims of women to proceed to graduation, or as to the power of the University to confer on women degrees in the Faculty of Medicine.” Commd. by direction of the University Court. J. Christison, W.S., Sec.

92. “The Court finds it unwise at this time to cancel the mentioned resolutions and regulations, and therefore will not act on the decision of the Senatus. This statement from the Court should not be taken as an indication of any opinion regarding women's right to graduate, or the University’s authority to award degrees to women in the Faculty of Medicine.” Commd. by direction of the University Court. J. Christison, W.S., Sec.

93. The following scrap has been inadvertently preserved. There is not even any certain indication to whom it is addressed:

93. The following fragment has been unintentionally kept. There's no clear indication of who it's meant for:

“When I came into the Anatomical room and saw you sitting there dissecting, I was overpowered,—utterly conquered. When I spoke to you and you looked up at me to answer, the look you gave me was the coup de mort!—I determined then in my own mind to seek you for my wife....

“When I entered the Anatomical room and saw you sitting there dissecting, I was overwhelmed—completely taken aback. When I spoke to you and you looked up at me to respond, the look you gave me was the final blow!—I decided right then that I wanted you to be my wife....

But to see you as you were then with your superlative beauty, working so bravely, so sensibly,—all fashion, frivolity and folly cast aside,—was to me so new, so strange and so admirable a sight, that on considering and re-considering it, I don’t wonder at myself for flinging aside ordinary prudence to make a snatch at a jewel of such unusual brilliancy.”

But seeing you as you were back then, with your incredible beauty, working so courageously and sensibly—putting aside all fashion, frivolity, and nonsense—was such a new, strange, and admirable sight to me that, upon thinking about it repeatedly, I can’t blame myself for throwing aside ordinary caution to go after a gem of such remarkable brilliance.

It is almost disappointing to reflect that the recipient of this tribute was not equally prepared to “fling aside ordinary prudence.”

It’s kind of disappointing to realize that the person receiving this tribute wasn’t ready to “throw aside ordinary caution.”

94. It was at this Christmas season that Miss Miranda Hill sent to her old friend, in the form of a brooch, a “winged Victory,”—meaning, she said, “many things,”—“the victory of a stedfast noble purpose over outward obstacles, of love over time.”

94. During this Christmas season, Miss Miranda Hill sent her old friend a brooch shaped like a “winged Victory.” She explained that it represented “many things,” including “the triumph of a steadfast noble purpose over external challenges and of love over time.”

95. “Ring out the grief that saps the mind,” is Tennyson’s line. S. J.-B.’s version needs no explanation.

95. “Let go of the sorrow that drains the mind,” is Tennyson’s line. S. J.-B.’s version needs no explanation.

96. January 29, 1872.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. January 29, 1872.

97.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.

“Believe and venture! as for pledges,

The gods give none.”

98. Miss Massingberd Mundy was one of the junior students who did not go on to graduation, but her gaiety and humour made her a real acquisition to the little circle in the trying days.

98. Miss Massingberd Mundy was one of the junior students who didn’t graduate, but her cheerfulness and sense of humor made her a valuable addition to the small group during those challenging days.

99. S. J.-B. appealed to Sir Robert Anstruther; and there is a businesslike note from Lady Anstruther, asking for a very brief summary of all the main events,—just the thing that only S. J.-B. could supply.

99. S. J.-B. reached out to Sir Robert Anstruther; and there’s a practical note from Lady Anstruther, requesting a very brief summary of all the main events—exactly the kind of thing that only S. J.-B. could provide.

The matter was brought forward in Aug. 1872, on Sir Robert Anstruther’s behalf, by Sir D. Wedderburn, see below.

The issue was raised in August 1872, on behalf of Sir Robert Anstruther, by Sir D. Wedderburn, see below.

100. In addition to these six, Professor Fleeming Jenkin and Professor Cosmo Innes removed their names from the list of defenders.

100. Besides these six, Professor Fleeming Jenkin and Professor Cosmo Innes took their names off the list of supporters.

101. Professor Hodgson was a recent addition to the professorial staff, and a great asset to the women’s cause.

101. Professor Hodgson had just joined the faculty and was a huge asset to the women's cause.

102. As a matter of fact a number of students came—unasked—to serve as stewards.

102. In fact, several students showed up—without being asked—to help out as stewards.

103. See S. J.-B.’s letter to Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, pp. 356-7.

104. See p. 260.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. See page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.

105. The following is a fair average specimen of the cordiality with which the book was received:—“So convincing is the argument, so obvious the conclusions to which it leads up, that one fairly wonders, after putting down the essay in which they are enforced, how it should have come to pass in this nineteenth century that it should be necessary for any such essay to be written.”—Liverpool Mercury.

105. This is a typical example of how warmly the book was received:—“The argument is so convincing, and the conclusions it leads to are so clear, that you can't help but wonder, after finishing the essay, how it came to be in this nineteenth century that such an essay needed to be written.”—Liverpool Mercury.

106. Mr. Stansfeld was President of the Local Government Board.

106. Mr. Stansfeld was the President of the Local Government Board.

107. To visit the friend who had been ill.

107. To visit the friend who had been sick.

108. See extract from Lancet, p. 319.

109. See Huxley’s Life, i. 387.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. See Huxley’s Life, 1:387.

110. The previous letter has not been found.

110. The last letter has not been located.

111. Lord Provost.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Mayor.

112. “... And now a flood of memories of sweet Windydene brings tears to my eyes. No fear there of rowdy ricsha coolies in a narrow alley quarrelling over the right of way—nor rattle of carriages with their annoying official bell ‘Clear the way’ up to 2 a.m.—but just silent peace. My heaven will certainly have to be silence for a space. But Windydene contains ... and the Doctor, and I remember talks over the drawing-room fire, and those incomparable evenings in the Doctor’s Study, and as these thoughts make one both weepy and sentimental, I had better stop.” Extract from a letter from Dr. Lillie Saville, Tientsin, Jan. 7th, 1911.

112. “... And now a wave of memories of sweet Windydene brings tears to my eyes. There's no fear of loud rickshaw drivers in a narrow alley arguing over the right of way—nor the clatter of carriages with their annoying official bell ‘Clear the way’ until 2 a.m.—just quiet peace. My paradise will definitely have to include silence for a while. But Windydene holds ... and the Doctor, and I remember our conversations by the drawing-room fire, and those unforgettable evenings in the Doctor’s Study, and as these thoughts make me both emotional and nostalgic, I should probably stop.” Extract from a letter from Dr. Lillie Saville, Tientsin, Jan. 7th, 1911.

113. Appendix E.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Appendix __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.

114. “In this case, as in most others, those who say they want a thing must put their own shoulders to the wheel in order to obtain it, and must be prepared to back the soundness of their opinions. If only twenty women annually could be added to the ranks of the medical profession in this country, the expediency of the addition would be speedily removed from the domain of controversy, and the expression, ‘Solvitur ambulando,’ which Mrs, Anderson calls an adage, would be applicable to the case.”

114. “In this situation, like in most others, those who claim they want something must put in the effort to achieve it and be ready to support their beliefs. If only twenty women were added each year to the medical profession in this country, the importance of that addition would quickly become a settled issue, and the saying, 'It's solved by walking,' which Mrs. Anderson refers to as a proverb, would be relevant to the situation.”

Times, August 23rd, 1873.

115. Appendix F.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Appendix __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.

116. Lord Houghton was President of the Congress. In a letter to his wife, dated October 3rd, 1873, he says, “Miss Jex-Blake and Mrs. Grey both spoke capitally.” Lord Houghton’s Life, vol. ii. p. 281.

116. Lord Houghton was the President of the Congress. In a letter to his wife, dated October 3, 1873, he wrote, “Miss Jex-Blake and Mrs. Grey both spoke excellently.” Lord Houghton’s Life, vol. ii. p. 281.

117. “Medical Women,” by the Right Hon. James Stansfeld, M.P., Nineteenth Century, July, 1877.

118. Mr. Lowe’s advocacy was strengthened by a fine memorial presented to him at this time by 471 graduates of the University of London, praying that the benefits of the University should be extended to women. This memorial was secured through the exertions of Dr. Alfred Shewen.

118. Mr. Lowe’s support was bolstered by a great memorial presented to him at this time by 471 graduates of the University of London, requesting that the benefits of the University be made available to women. This memorial was organized through the efforts of Dr. Alfred Shewen.

119. “I was very much troubled by your last letter,” wrote Dr. Sewall a month later, “for the idea of your beginning to practise without a diploma seems to me such a mistake. It appears to me that by practising illegally in that way, you will be giving up all you have been fighting for, and will be opening a way that some women who have not studied thoroughly may use; and there will be no way of your showing the public the difference between your qualifications.”

119. “I was very troubled by your last letter,” Dr. Sewall wrote a month later, “because the idea of you starting to practice without a diploma seems like a big mistake. It looks to me like if you practice illegally like that, you’ll be giving up everything you’ve fought for, and you’ll be creating a path that some women who haven’t studied properly might take; and there will be no way for you to show the public the difference in your qualifications.”

120. To the Headmastership of Rugby.

120. To the Headmaster of Rugby.

121. Sir David Wedderburn did not offer himself for re-election.

121. Sir David Wedderburn did not stand for re-election.

122. We must never forget that a minority of doctors had been helpful all along. Years before this a petition to Parliament in favour of the women had been signed by nearly two hundred.

122. We must never forget that a small group of doctors had been supportive all along. Years before this, nearly two hundred people had signed a petition to Parliament in favor of the women.

123. The Memorial had been originally addressed to Gladstone.

123. The Memorial was originally directed to Gladstone.

124. “A Bill to Remove Doubts as to the Powers of the Universities of Scotland to admit Women as Students, and to grant Degrees to Women.”

124. “A Bill to Clarify the Authority of Scottish Universities to Admit Women as Students and to Grant Degrees to Women.”

125. Mrs. Thorne on her return tried to dissuade S. J.-B. from making the attempt; but, on finding how much had been done, she gladly coöperated in raising funds.

125. Mrs. Thorne, upon her return, tried to talk S. J.-B. out of making the attempt; however, after seeing how much had already been accomplished, she happily joined in raising funds.

126. The name was afterwards changed to Handel Street, and then to Hunter Street.

126. The name was later changed to Handel Street, and then to Hunter Street.

127. The house S. J.-B. had taken as her private residence.

127. The house S. J.-B. had chosen as her home.

128. To the great loss of the medical women—as to many besides—Dr. Anstie died suddenly on September 12th.

128. Sadly for the medical women—and many others—Dr. Anstie passed away unexpectedly on September 12th.

129. Miss Bertha Cordery, now Mrs. S. R. Gardiner.

130. A very true friend was Lord Aberdare. Here is a delightful letter written a few months later:

130. A really good friend was Lord Aberdare. Here’s a lovely letter written a few months later:

“Glen Tulchan, Advie, N.B.

June 23. 1877.

Dear Miss Jex-Blake,—I yield to your request—an annual subscription of £10. 10s. for 5 years, including the present—but with the same Caveat which St. Peter made to Pope Gregory when he prayed that that virtuous heathen Trajan might be admitted into Paradise viz ‘that you make no more such requests.’ For I find extreme difficulty in refusing applications for so good a work, and my ‘engagements’ are heavy. By this post I must send a reluctant refusal to the hardworking promoter of an excellent work.

Dear Ms. Jex-Blake,—I agree to your request—an annual subscription of £10. 10s. for 5 years, starting now—but with the same Caveat that St. Peter gave to Pope Gregory when he asked for the virtuous heathen Trajan to be allowed into Paradise, which is ‘that you make no more such requests.’ Because I struggle to turn down requests for such a deserving cause, and my ‘commitments’ are considerable. In this mail, I have to send an unwilling denial to the dedicated promoter of an excellent project.

Ever sincerely Yours,

Aberdare.”

131. The following interesting letter shows that Sir James Paget’s attitude at this time was not that of a partisan but of a just man:

131. The following interesting letter shows that Sir James Paget’s attitude at this time was not that of a supporter but of a fair man:

“1, Harewood Place,
Hanover Square, W.
Feb 26. 1877.

Dear Mr. Stansfeld,

I intend to go, if possible, to the Meeting of the University Senate on Wednesday that I may vote against hindering the entrance of Women into the Medical Profession. I think them sadly mistaken in wishing for it, but I see no sufficient grounds on which they can justly or usefully be excluded.

I plan to attend the University Senate meeting on Wednesday to vote against blocking women's entry into the medical profession. I believe they are seriously mistaken in wanting to pursue that, but I don’t see any good reasons for them to be justly or usefully excluded.

Believe me most truly yours,

James Paget.

The Rt. Honble. James Stansfeld, M.P.”

The Right Honorable James Stansfeld, Member of Parliament.

132. This letter may probably have been written to Mr. Stansfeld.

132. This letter was most likely written to Mr. Stansfeld.

133. In later years, as Dean, Mrs. Anderson did much for the enlargement and development of the School.

133. In her later years as Dean, Mrs. Anderson contributed significantly to expanding and developing the School.

134. Nineteenth Century, July 1877.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Nineteenth Century, July 1877.

135. We hear of her visiting the Middlesex, Moorfields, the Royal Free, the Cancer, and the Children’s Hospitals.

135. We hear about her visiting the Middlesex, Moorfields, the Royal Free, the Cancer, and the Children’s Hospitals.

136. For the same reason she went but seldom to the theatre, unless an actor whom she greatly admired visited Edinburgh. When Henry Irving was there she would go as often as three times a week, and usually take a little party of friends. Louis XI. was, in her opinion, his masterpiece. For Miss Terry she had, like all the rest of the world, a great admiration. Of Ristori she used to speak almost with bated breath.

136. For the same reason she rarely went to the theater, unless there was an actor she really admired performing in Edinburgh. When Henry Irving was in town, she would go as often as three times a week and usually invite a small group of friends. She believed his performance of Louis XI. was his best work. Like everyone else, she had a huge admiration for Miss Terry. She would speak about Ristori almost in awe.

137. The three mentioned above, together with Dr. Peel Ritchie. In later years, of course, she would have added to the list,—notably the names of Dr. (Sir Thomas) Clouston and Mr. C. W. Cathcart.

137. The three mentioned earlier, along with Dr. Peel Ritchie. In later years, of course, she would have expanded the list—especially including Dr. (Sir Thomas) Clouston and Mr. C. W. Cathcart.

138. The invaluable Alice had retired from service to join a sister in Wales. She and her mistress continued to correspond till the end.

138. The invaluable Alice had retired from her job to join a sister in Wales. She and her mistress kept in touch through letters until the end.

139. In place of the “coachman”; she never had both.

139. Instead of the “driver”; she never had both.

140. This was probably not the occasion of which she writes in her diary,—“S. J.-B. made very nice speech in moving vote of thanks,—only forgot to thank much!”

140. This was probably not the event she mentions in her diary,—“S. J.-B. gave a really nice speech when proposing a vote of thanks,—just forgot to say thank you a lot!”

141. This was the celebrated visit to contest the County of Midlothian,—a “triumphal procession”!

141. This was the famous visit to challenge the County of Midlothian,—a “triumphal procession”!

142. It was not till later—not perhaps till she saw that regrettable number of Fors Clavigera that S. J.-B. had any clear idea what the trouble was.

142. It wasn't until later—not necessarily until she saw that unfortunate issue of Fors Clavigera—that S. J.-B. had any clear understanding of what the problem was.

143. Dr. Agnes M‘Laren had taken the house adjoining S. J.-B.’s.

143. Dr. Agnes M‘Laren had moved into the house next to S. J.-B.’s.

144. She was working at the solubility of fats, and the ether fumes were supposed to have proved insidiously poisonous.

144. She was studying how fats dissolve, and the ether fumes were thought to be secretly toxic.

145. “Poor Child.”

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. "Poor Kid."

146. This house is now the picturesque nucleus of the Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children.

146. This house is now the charming center of the Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children.

147. S. J.-B. made great friends with the birds in her garden, and cats were accordingly taboo.

147. S. J.-B. became best friends with the birds in her garden, so cats were off-limits.

148. S. J.-B. and Miss Du Pre had visited the same hotel that summer.

148. S. J.-B. and Miss Du Pre had stayed at the same hotel that summer.

149. “Ah,” said an old servant in later years. “We did see life in that house!”

149. “Ah,” said an old servant years later. “We really experienced life in that house!”

150. “On est prié de ne rien donner aux domestiqúes.”

150. “Please don't give anything to the staff.”

151. Medical Women, by Sophia Jex-Blake, M.D. Oliphant, Anderson & Ferrier. The book has long been out of print, but, as a storehouse of facts, it is largely drawn upon by all writers on the subject, including the author of the present volume.

151. Medical Women, by Sophia Jex-Blake, M.D. Oliphant, Anderson & Ferrier. The book has been out of print for a long time, but it serves as a valuable resource of information that many writers on the topic rely on, including the author of this volume.

152. S. J.-B. never had a more loyal and devoted helper than the first secretary of the School, Miss Janet Black.

152. S. J.-B. never had a more loyal and dedicated assistant than the first secretary of the School, Miss Janet Black.

153. The adjective is applied to her by Charles Reade in The Woman Hater.

153. Charles Reade uses the adjective to describe her in The Woman Hater.

154. The Marquis of Bute and Sir Colin Scott Moncrieff (Under Secretary for Scotland) are among the best-known names in the company of those who did their best to help her.

154. The Marquis of Bute and Sir Colin Scott Moncrieff (Under Secretary for Scotland) are some of the most recognized names among those who did their utmost to assist her.

155. The “distinguished historian” of course refers to Miss Cordery herself.

155. The "renowned historian" is obviously referring to Miss Cordery herself.

156. Dr. Edith Pechey had married Mr. H. M. Phipson of Bombay.

156. Dr. Edith Pechey married Mr. H. M. Phipson from Bombay.

157. The quotation is from Miss Louisa Stevenson’s speech in presenting the address.

157. The quote is from Miss Louisa Stevenson’s speech when she presented the address.

158. “I took her to see the pixies,” writes S. J.-B. to a friend, in June, “I don’t think she did see any, but she greatly enjoyed the woods, etc.”

158. “I took her to see the fairies,” S. J.-B. writes to a friend in June, “I don’t think she actually saw any, but she really enjoyed the woods and everything.”

159. Steps towards Reunion. The book had been put on the Index Expurgatorius.

159. Steps towards Reunion. The book had been placed on the banned list.

160. At that time very few women had come into the front rank as surgeons.

160. Back then, only a handful of women had stepped into the forefront as surgeons.

161. Her old fellow student, Dr. Annie Clark, who had graduated with her at Berne, came from Birmingham to give the anaesthetic.

161. Her former classmate, Dr. Annie Clark, who graduated with her in Berne, traveled from Birmingham to administer the anesthetic.

162. Miss Miranda Hill died in June 1910.

162. Miss Miranda Hill passed away in June 1910.

163. By a strange coincidence she lies within a few yards of her old friend and champion, Sir James Stansfeld. See Appendix G.

163. It's a strange coincidence that she is only a few yards away from her old friend and supporter, Sir James Stansfeld. See Appendix G.

164. See The London Gazette, Friday, August 25, 1837.

165. The authors have sought to supply a want, more or less widely felt, of simple Tracts, which, while endeavouring to set forth the deepest truths of Christianity, shall avoid the phraseology of certain schools, as jarring on the minds of many.

165. The authors aim to meet a common need for straightforward pamphlets that, while trying to convey the fundamental truths of Christianity, steer clear of the language used by certain groups that can feel off-putting to many.

Those who see any degree of successful effort in the Tracts already published are invited to assist in obtaining for them, and others of the series, such a circulation as may best ensure their usefulness.

Those who recognize any level of success in the already published Tracts are encouraged to help in getting them, along with others in the series, the kind of circulation that will maximize their usefulness.

166. S. J.-B. was thinking mainly of Dr. Heron Watson and Dr. G. W. Balfour.

166. S. J.-B. was primarily focused on Dr. Heron Watson and Dr. G. W. Balfour.

167. The passage has already been quoted, pp. 396-7.

Transcription Note

The author most commonly abbreviates her subject’s name as ‘S. J.-B.’, but frequently neglects to punctuate it consistently. These lapses have been corrected, with no further notice here. Likewise, lapses in punctuation of the Index have been silently rectified.

The author usually shortens her subject's name to 'S. J.-B.', but often forgets to punctuate it correctly. These mistakes have been fixed without further mention here. Similarly, punctuation errors in the Index have been quietly corrected.

Other errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and are noted here.

Other errors thought to be the printer’s have been fixed and are mentioned here.

The many nested quotations result in some inconsistencies in punctuation, resulting in missing or seemingly superfluous quotation marks. Corrections were made if the voice or context seems to warrant them, and otherwise are simply noted below. The quoted passages typically begin and end with double quotation marks, but interior paragraphs do not follow the convention of opening each with a quotation.

The many nested quotes lead to some inconsistencies in punctuation, causing missing or seemingly unnecessary quotation marks. Corrections were made when the voice or context seemed to require them, and otherwise are simply noted below. The quoted passages usually start and end with double quotation marks, but interior paragraphs don’t follow the convention of opening each with a quote.

On p. 255, a misprint seems to have disrupted the word ‘about’ as ‘a bo’. The correction makes sense, but is speculative.

On p. 255, a misprint seems to have turned the word ‘about’ into ‘a bo’. The correction makes sense but is based on speculation.

In the Index, in the first column of p. 583, the entry for Mr. Robert Somerville is missing a page reference. The sole reference to Mr. Somerville occurred on p. 498, and that has been added to the text.

In the Index, in the first column of p. 583, the entry for Mr. Robert Somerville is missing a page reference. The only mention of Mr. Somerville was on p. 498, and that has been added to the text.

The entry for ‘Miss Wolstenholme’ refers the reader to ‘Mrs. Wolstenholme Elmy’; however, the Index contains no such entry. Elizabeth Wolstenholme-Elmy was an English suffragist and writer, who is referred to twice in the text on pp. 284 and 381.

The entry for ‘Miss Wolstenholme’ directs the reader to ‘Mrs. Wolstenholme Elmy’; however, the Index doesn’t have an entry for that. Elizabeth Wolstenholme-Elmy was an English suffragist and writer, mentioned twice in the text on pp. 284 and 381.

The entry for ‘A Visit to Some American Schools and Colleges’ mistakenly refers the reader to Part I. Chapter XXIII. This has been corrected to Chapter XIII.

The references are to the page and line in the original. Those with three numbers refer to the line within the designated note on that page. A prefix of ‘i’ indicates that this is an index page, and that the second number refers to the column on that page.

The references point to the page and line in the original text. Those with three numbers indicate the line within the specific note on that page. A prefix of ‘i’ shows that this is an index page, and the second number refers to the column on that page.

21.7	“Now for a word about the ‘bowing,’[”] he says	Added.
21.8	[‘/“]It is of no importance in itself,	Replaced.
24.26	and may be long i[s/n] showing fruit	Replaced.
57.10	‘Yes, ma’am ma’am[.]’	Added.
58.28	did not much admire me, I guess, that night.[”]	Added.
60.17	unless you want to see it.[’]	Added.
63.7	‘Which faith except..., etc.’[”]	Added.
63.21	[“]M. brought me an invite	Added.
74.32	Feb. 11, 1865![”]	Added.
97.21	makest me to dwell in safety.[’]”	Added.
101.39	and have felt most solemnly[,/.]	Replaced.
107.3	I was so annoyed[./,]—it seemed so silly	Replaced.
111.40	May 9th. [“]We do well to struggle	Added.
115.3	for which I am looking so earnestly....[’]	Removed.
119.20	Yours affectly, S. L. J.-B.[”]	Added.
119.32	It’s so weak, it can’t do harm that way.[’]	Added.
131.33.2	she writes in her diary[!/:]	Replaced.
135.16	and here, perhaps, the answer.[’]”	Added.
138.4	the girls’ progress,[”] ought to comfort me there,	Removed.
145.33	by the doubt and co[m/n]tempt	Replaced.
154.35.6	I keep such company.[’/”]	Replaced.
157.18	when I am next in the North.[”]	Added.
164.26	we got on grandly....[”]	Added.
167.6	all connection of time and place.[”]	Added.
167.18	not a bad church, will it be?[”]	Added.
167.38	so wonderfully, bewitchingly, grandly [beautifully] as this.	sic
174.35	[“]Dec. 15th. I have just begun	Added.
180.17	if not of the conquerors.[”]	Added.
180.32	Well done America and L. E. S.!—bless her.[”]	Added.
181.40	to run close to practical atheism....[”]	Added.
191.41	C. E. Brown-Sequard.	Replaced.
192.10	[“]Dr. A. ‘not afraid of responsibility	Added.
203.43	with the old Mother.[”]	Added.
205.16	Wasn’t I right?...[”]	Added.
205.39	you can read and forward respect[t]ively	Removed.
234.41	if poss[s]ible before Simpson goes.	Removed.
243.15	of what things we have need.’[”]	Removed.
246.37	[“]I am so glad that you are prospering so well	Removed.
255.25	and told him I was studyi[m/n]g Medicine	Replaced.
255.39	spend some money [a bo/about] it	Speculation.
256.6	and to University Court July 5th.[”]	Added.
257.39	let me not prejudge what is best.[’]	Added.
258.17	[“/‘]Unlucky to say so!’	Replaced.
260.30	the resolution of the Un[vei/ive]rsity Court	Transposed.
260.32	by the Chancellor on November 12th[,/.]	Replaced.
289.35	Patrick Heron Watson.	Transposed.
293.20	he’ll be hitting a policeman![’]	Added.
321.27	the noble strug[g]le she is making	Added.
333.41	thrown back in their profess[s]ional studies	Removed.
335.8	time to call a mee[e]ting.	Removed.
341.27	your conscience will prevent your sleeping!’[”]	Added.
374.25	Thanks for your kind letter[.]	Added.
376.9	of your prof[f]ession	Removed.
379.19	[“]It is just a year since we parted	Added.
383.30	although I [I ]expect he thought	Removed.
448.14	[“]So much better than I.”	Removed.
449.7	the personal charm, intelligen[e/c]e and humour	Replaced.
464.2	[‘/“]Why do you recommend Vermouth?”	Replaced.
469.16	to those who suffer young[’]	Added.
509.29	to admit women forthwith to graduation in medicine[.]	Added.
511.29	[“]Dr. —— and Dr. —— [the consultants] have been here	Added.
514.6	a removal to larger premises[,/.]	Replaced.
546.15	specially to the “people of God[.”/”?]	Replaced.
i566.1.51	Brown-S[e/é]quard, Professor, 191.	Replaced.
i568.2.28	(Mrs. Hil[l]house) was giving him	Removed.

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THE LIFE OF SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE

PREFACE

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PART I

CHAPTER I CHILDHOOD

CHAPTER II SCHOOL LIFE

CHAPTER III SCHOOL LIFE—Continued

CHAPTER IV SCHOOL LIFE—Concluded

CHAPTER V LIFE AT HOME

CHAPTER VI LIFE AT QUEEN’S COLLEGE

CHAPTER VII FRIENDSHIP

CHAPTER VIII A STEP BEYOND

CHAPTER IX FIRST EXPERIENCE OF EDINBURGH

CHAPTER X GERMANY

CHAPTER XI LIFE AS A TEACHER AT MANNHEIM

CHAPTER XII VARIOUS PROJECTS AND VENTURES

CHAPTER XIII A VISIT TO SOME AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES

CHAPTER XIV QUESTIONINGS

CHAPTER XV PIONEER WORK IN AMERICA

CHAPTER XVI GOING HOME

PART II

CHAPTER I DRIFTING

CHAPTER II AT THE GATES OF THE CITADEL

CHAPTER III SUCCESS?

CHAPTER IV A CHECK

CHAPTER V OPENING OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY TO WOMEN

CHAPTER VI THE HOPE SCHOLARSHIP

CHAPTER VII PRACTICAL DIFFICULTIES

CHAPTER VIII THE RIOT AT SURGEONS’ HALL

CHAPTER IX THE ACTION FOR LIBEL

CHAPTER X SOME FRIENDSHIPS AND HOLIDAYS

CHAPTER XI THE QUESTION OF PROFESSIONAL EXAMINATION

CHAPTER XII THE ROYAL INFIRMARY

CHAPTER XIII THE ACTION AGAINST THE SENATUS

CHAPTER XIV THE LORD ORDINARY’S JUDGMENT

CHAPTER XV PAYING THE PRICE

CHAPTER XVI END OF THE BATTLE IN EDINBURGH

CHAPTER XVII THE QUESTION IN PARLIAMENT

CHAPTER XVIII THE LONDON SCHOOL OF MEDICINE FOR WOMEN

CHAPTER XIX THE RUSSELL GURNEY ENABLING ACT

CHAPTER XX AT LAST

CHAPTER XXI THE ROYAL FREE HOSPITAL

PART III

CHAPTER I EARLY DAYS IN PRACTICE

CHAPTER II LAST ILLNESS OF MRS. JEX-BLAKE

CHAPTER III PATIENTS AND FRIENDS

CHAPTER IV PUBLIC LIFE

CHAPTER V RE-OPENING OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY TO WOMEN

CHAPTER VI DRIVING TOURS. ANIMAL FRIENDS

CHAPTER VII THE SABBATICAL YEAR

APPENDIX A PEDIGREE OF THE JEX-BLAKE FAMILY

APPENDIX B “WORDS FOR THE WAY.”[165]—No. 2. REST

APPENDIX C CONCLUSIONS FROM “A VISIT TO AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES”

APPENDIX D THE EDINBURGH EXTRA-MURAL SCHOOL

APPENDIX E LETTER TO THE TIMES IN REPLY TO MRS. GARRETT ANDERSON

APPENDIX F LETTER FROM THE PRINCIPAL OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY, AND S. J.-B.’S REPLY

APPENDIX G PERMANENT MEMORIALS OF SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE

INDEX

CHAPTER I
CHILDHOOD

CHAPTER II
SCHOOL LIFE

CHAPTER III
SCHOOL LIFE—Continued

CHAPTER IV
SCHOOL LIFE—Concluded

CHAPTER V
LIFE AT HOME

CHAPTER VI
LIFE AT QUEEN’S COLLEGE

CHAPTER VII
FRIENDSHIP

CHAPTER VIII
A STEP BEYOND

CHAPTER IX
FIRST EXPERIENCE OF EDINBURGH

CHAPTER X
GERMANY

CHAPTER XI
LIFE AS A TEACHER AT MANNHEIM

CHAPTER XII
VARIOUS PROJECTS AND VENTURES

CHAPTER XIII
A VISIT TO SOME AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES

CHAPTER XIV
QUESTIONINGS

CHAPTER XV
PIONEER WORK IN AMERICA

CHAPTER XVI
GOING HOME

CHAPTER I
DRIFTING

CHAPTER II
AT THE GATES OF THE CITADEL

CHAPTER III
SUCCESS?

CHAPTER IV
A CHECK

CHAPTER V
OPENING OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY TO WOMEN

CHAPTER VI
THE HOPE SCHOLARSHIP

CHAPTER VII
PRACTICAL DIFFICULTIES

CHAPTER VIII
THE RIOT AT SURGEONS’ HALL

CHAPTER IX
THE ACTION FOR LIBEL

CHAPTER X
SOME FRIENDSHIPS AND HOLIDAYS

CHAPTER XI
THE QUESTION OF PROFESSIONAL EXAMINATION

CHAPTER XII
THE ROYAL INFIRMARY

CHAPTER XIII
THE ACTION AGAINST THE SENATUS

CHAPTER XIV
THE LORD ORDINARY’S JUDGMENT

CHAPTER XV
PAYING THE PRICE

CHAPTER XVI
END OF THE BATTLE IN EDINBURGH

CHAPTER XVII
THE QUESTION IN PARLIAMENT

CHAPTER XVIII
THE LONDON SCHOOL OF MEDICINE FOR WOMEN

CHAPTER XIX
THE RUSSELL GURNEY ENABLING ACT

CHAPTER XX
AT LAST

CHAPTER XXI
THE ROYAL FREE HOSPITAL

CHAPTER I
EARLY DAYS IN PRACTICE

CHAPTER II
LAST ILLNESS OF MRS. JEX-BLAKE

CHAPTER III
PATIENTS AND FRIENDS

CHAPTER IV
PUBLIC LIFE

CHAPTER V
RE-OPENING OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY TO WOMEN

CHAPTER VI
DRIVING TOURS. ANIMAL FRIENDS

CHAPTER VII
THE SABBATICAL YEAR

APPENDIX A
PEDIGREE OF THE JEX-BLAKE FAMILY

APPENDIX B
“WORDS FOR THE WAY.”^[165]—No. 2. REST

APPENDIX C
CONCLUSIONS FROM “A VISIT TO AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES”

APPENDIX D
THE EDINBURGH EXTRA-MURAL SCHOOL

APPENDIX E
LETTER TO THE TIMES IN REPLY TO MRS. GARRETT ANDERSON

APPENDIX F
LETTER FROM THE PRINCIPAL OF EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY, AND S. J.-B.’S REPLY

APPENDIX G
PERMANENT MEMORIALS OF SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE