PRACTICAL DIFFICULTIES
Perseverance—“wriggling on”—was thus the course recommended to the women
by stranger and friend alike.
The Professor of Botany (Dr. Balfour, formerly Dean of the Faculty of
Medicine) who had wished to admit them to his ordinary class, made
arrangements to teach them separately. Professor Allmann also had
declared his willingness to admit S. J.-B. to his class of Natural
History (see p. 234) but he did not feel able to follow the generous
example of his colleague in devoting special time and energy to the
purpose. Fortunately the women had a second string to their bow in the
person of Dr. Alleyne Nicholson, lecturer in the Extra-Mural School,[64]
and their application to him called forth a letter which shows what the
difficulties were which even a kindly and open-minded man had to face.
Footnote 64:
Appendix D.
“April 26th. 1870.
DEAR MISS BLAKE,
I have not as yet succeeded in obtaining a positive assurance as
to the legality of my admitting you to my ordinary class, though I no
longer entertain any doubt as to my perfect freedom in the matter, so
far as the University is concerned. I have, however, consulted several
of my colleagues, and they are tolerably unanimous in advising me to
submit the question to my class.... They advise me, namely, not to
commence abruptly on Monday without any warning, but to give my
opening lecture separately, to my ordinary class at one o’clock, and
to you at 2 p.m. At the conclusion of the hour I should explain to the
students how matters stand, and should ask their permission to make
over to you a bench in the general class. This is the advice which is
given me, and I have no doubt as to its wisdom.
I am fully aware that this will not be nearly so satisfactory to you
as unconditional permission on my part; and I must beg you to believe
that it is in many respects far from being so satisfactory to my own
feelings in the matter. If I were a thoroughly independent man I can
assure you that I should not be deterred from doing what I thought
right in this question by any fear of the consequences. As things
really stand, however, I do not feel justified in running the risk of
losing my ordinary class in whole or in part, as I am assured I should
do if I were to attempt to introduce this innovation wholly without
warning. If I _knew_ my class, if I had the opportunity of even two or
three days’ acquaintance with them, I think I should have little to
apprehend as to their behaviour on any such question as this. You will
remember, however, that I am dealing with an unknown quantity in
making up my mind as to the course I shall adopt; and that I am wholly
without adequate data to guide me in my determination.... My present
opinion is that whilst I have every wish to admit you to my general
class, it will be safest for me to submit the question to my class and
to abide by a decision of the majority.”
Apparently S. J.-B. obtained a verbal, but satisfactory, modification of
this programme by suggesting that the class should be asked “to unite
with the lecturer in inviting” the women to join them, but that was a
mere matter of detail. Everything depended on the way in which Dr.
Nicholson stated the case, and one is not surprised to hear that the
favourable reply came not from a majority, but from the entire class.
“So,” says S. J.-B., “the first ‘mixed-class’ was inaugurated and
continued throughout the summer without the slightest inconvenience.”
“The course of lectures on Zoology which I am now delivering to a
mixed class,” wrote Dr. Nicholson later in answer to a mistaken
statement in a medical paper, “is identically the same as the course
which I delivered last winter to my ordinary class of male students. I
have not hitherto emasculated my lectures in any way whatever, nor
have I the smallest intention of so doing. In so acting, I am guided
by the firm conviction that little stress is to be laid on the purity
and modesty of those who find themselves able to extract food for
improper feelings from such a purely scientific subject as Zoology,
however freely handled.”
This was all very well, but the classes so far obtained were mere
outposts. The real Giant Difficulty lay with Anatomy and Clinical
teaching, and that session’s work was complicated, for S. J.-B. in
particular, by a constant undercurrent of effort to obtain the necessary
teaching. It was essential that the teacher, if not a Professor, should
at least be recognized by the University, and there were representatives
of the University who were not desirous to make the matter easy. Over
and over again hopes were raised, only to be disappointed: on one
occasion the lecturer, after much parleying, had actually agreed to do
the work and had accepted his fee; but, even at that late stage, he
backed out and returned the fee with an apology. (“_How_ vexed I was!”
says S. J.-B., “thoroughly upset and nervous.”) It happened repeatedly,
too, that the men who would have liked to help had already on some other
question taken up a position unpopular with their more conservative
_confrères_, and simply dared not espouse another fighting cause.
S. J.-B. was urged to go to Zürich and fit herself to teach Anatomy; but
what assurance had she—what encouragement had she even to hope—that the
University would recognize her teaching on her return? And what were the
other students—a growing number—to do in the meantime? Try their fortune
elsewhere?—and brave the inevitable, “Lo, these who have turned the
world upside down are come hither also”?
Once and again some chivalrous man took up their cause, refusing to
believe that the difficulty was real; but little by little he was apt to
find that the intangible mist of opposition was as impervious as an iron
wall.
It was due to Dr. Arthur Gamgee that Dr. Handyside finally agreed to
admit the women to his ordinary Anatomy class and dissecting-room at
Surgeons’ Hall, provided the other lecturers made no objection: and, so
far the arrangements for the following winter session were made.
“Saturday, [June] 25th. Called on Dr. Watson[65] (Surgery). He signed
my petition readily. Thought if _we_ made no difficulty, no one ought
to about mixed classes,—anyone in earnest in his subject should be
able to teach all students. Of course the teacher should put his foot
down,—the students followed a beck,—and, if invited, would of course
make a row, etc....
Saw Keiller too.... Was quite favourable as to Handyside and mixed
classes;—he himself having had students and midwives....”
Footnote 65:
Afterwards Sir Patrick Heron Watson.
The question of these mixed classes in the Extra-Mural School was
technically an infringement of Regulation 2 in the _Calendar_ (see p.
260), and in this connection it was duly brought before the Senatus of
the University, with the proposal to refer the matter to the University
Court; but Professor Bennett moved, seconded by Professor Tait, “that
the Senatus see no reason to interfere.” This amendment appears to have
been carried by the casting vote of the Principal.
“So that’s settled,” says S. J.-B.
“_How_ fast events go! I really hope for mixed classes in the University
before 1871.”
She forgot to allow sufficiently for the fighting force of a large
minority, led by an angry few.
Meanwhile that wonderful Mother was following the struggle, not indeed
with the minute study Miss Du Pre was giving to the question, but with
the old unfailing sympathy. Like Miss Pechey’s father, she had been
rather staggered at first at the thought of mixed classes, but shortly
after this she writes:
“DARLING,
I don’t now at all object to mixed classes. As the teaching must
at present be given _by men_, I don’t see why there should not be
mixed classes to listen: and I feel confident if you continue to have
such a nice set of women, the tone of the young men generally will be
greatly raised. If mixed classes answer so well at Zurich and Paris,
why not here?—but I confess to great ignorance.”
Intellectually, the supply of women showed no sign of falling short.
With the advice and coöperation of Miss Garrett, Lady Amberley had
offered a scholarship for competition at the October Matriculation
Examination, and S. J.-B. proudly jots down the verdict of the examiners
on their work:
“‘Miss Barker’s Logic paper best ever had from medical students.’
‘Miss Bovell’s French best in University except one Frenchman’s.’
‘Miss Walker had the _only_ 100 per cent. in Mathematics.’
Classical examiner wrote,—‘I was very much struck with the accuracy as
well as elegance of some papers.‘”
Of course a woman—or a man for that matter—may pass a brilliant
examination in Mathematics or Chemistry, and yet be unable to keep her
head at a difficult midwifery case; and it was perfectly right and
fitting that men doctors should recognize and even emphasize this fact.
One would not have wished them to do otherwise. It was fortunate for the
women, however, that their opponents were apt to state their case with a
conspicuous want of any sense of humour, as the following letter from
the _Lancet_[66] sufficiently exemplifies:
“SIR,—In all popular movements, however one-sided and irrational they
may seem, there is some foundation of truth, the grain of common sense
in the bushel of chaff. And so it is with the movement that is now
taking place with respect to the admission of women into the rank of
medical practitioners. I believe most conscientiously and thoroughly
that as a body they are sexually, constitutionally, and mentally
unfitted for the hard and incessant toil, and for the heavy
responsibilities of general medical and surgical practice. At the same
time I believe as thoroughly, that there is a branch of our
profession—midwifery—to which they might and ought to be admitted in a
subordinate position as a rule.
In France, and in many other parts of the Continent, this division of
labour in Midwifery is fully carried out, and with great advantage to
both parties—to the regular practitioner, who is relieved of part of
his most arduous, most wearing and most unremunerative duties, and to
the women who have a vocation for medicine, who are able, thus, in
large numbers, to gain a respectable living in the profession they
wish to practise.
I think I may safely say that there are very few medical men who have
been ten years in practice, who would not gladly, thankfully, hand
over to a body of well-educated and friendly midwifes their half-
guinea or guinea midwifery cases. To a young practitioner there is the
charm of novelty, and the desire to improve, which make remuneration
altogether a secondary consideration. But after ten years‘ practice,
often long before, a very decided change comes over the spirit of the
dream.”
Footnote 66:
June 18th, 1870.
The part of the letter that follows is perhaps too technical for
quotation; but the writer continues on the general question:
“I would add in conclusion that, given women of exceptional energy,
capacity, and intelligence, nothing would be easier than for them, if
deserving, to rise out of the midwifery ranks into a wider sphere of
activity and worldly success. Let them show by their energy, by their
writing, by their contributions to the progress of medical science,
that they had exceptional powers of observation and intellect, and
fame would soon reach them. It has reached the very few women, who,
like Mrs. Somerville, have given evidence not only of mere ability and
talent, but higher powers, the power to grasp the more recondite and
abstruse teachings of science. But even this power—the power to master
and understand the existing state of science—does not constitute the
characteristic feature of the male mind in the Caucasian race. The
principal feature which appears to me to characterise the Caucasian
race, to raise it immeasurably above all other races, is the power
that many of its _male_ members have of advancing the horizon of
science, of penetrating beyond the existing limits of knowledge—in a
word, the power of scientific discovery. I am not aware that the
female members of our race participate in this power, in this supreme
development of the human mind; at least I know of no great discovery
changing the surface of science that owes its existence to a woman of
our or of any race. What right then have women to claim mental
_equality_ with men?
That woman may attain an honourable social position and pecuniary
independence in our ranks in the position I point out, is proved by a
case that came under my observation last year. A German lady M.D. in a
German University, called on me on her way home from San Francisco.
She told me that she had been practising there as an accoucheur and a
ladies‘ and child’s doctor for twenty years, had gained a small
fortune, and was returning to Germany to live and die in quiet. Her
history was this: Early in married life her husband lost his fortune
and became a confirmed invalid. She had thus her husband and two
children to support. She studied midwifery and medicine, took a
degree, and then went to America, settling at San Francisco. There she
placed herself in a subordinate position to the medical men, acting
with them, under them, and consequently supported by them. She had
thus lived harmoniously with her professional brethren, and had had a
career of uninterrupted professional success.
I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,
HENRY BENNET, M.D.”[67]
Footnote 67:
Not to be confused with Dr. Hughes Bennett, who had lectured to the
women on Physiology.
One can imagine the somewhat grim smile with which this lucubration was
passed round the little band in Edinburgh: and it is only fair to say
that many of their opponents would have been glad to cry:—“_Non tali
auxilio, nec defensoribus istis!_” The _Lancet_ was not the advocate of
the women students in those days, and one is glad to record that the
Editor allowed S. J.-B. the opportunity to reply. Her letter is a fair
sample of the style of writing that was becoming habitual to her,—
translucently clear, concise and businesslike,—absolutely shorn of the
picturesqueness that had characterized the writing of her youth.
“SIR,—I see in your columns of June 1st, 1870, a letter on ‘Women as
Practitioners of Midwifery,’ and appeal to your sense of fairness to
allow me a fourth part of the space it occupied for a few words in
reply.
It is hardly worth while to discuss the early part of the letter, as
the second paragraph sufficiently disposes of the first. After saying
that women are ‘sexually, constitutionally, and mentally unfitted for
hard and incessant toil,’ Dr. Bennet goes on to propose to make over
to them as their sole share of the medical profession what he himself
well describes as its ‘most arduous, most wearing and most
unremunerative duties.’ In the last adjective seems to lie the whole
suitability of the division of labour according to the writer’s view.
He evidently thinks that women’s capabilities are nicely graduated to
fit _half-guinea_ or _guinea_ midwifery cases,‘ and that all patients
paying a larger sum of necessity need the superior powers of the
‘_male_ mind of the Caucasian race.’ Let whatever is well paid be left
to the man; then chivalrously abandon the ‘badly remunerated’ work to
the women. This is the genuine view of a trades-unionist. It is well
for once to see it candidly stated. As I trust the majority of medical
men would be ashamed of avowing such a principle, and as I am sure it
would be indignantly disallowed by the general public, I do not care
to say more on this point.
But when Dr. Bennet proceeds to dogmatise about what he calls our
claim to ‘mental equality,’ he comes to a different and much more
important question. I for one do not care in the least either to claim
or disown such equality, nor do I see that it is at all essential to
the real question at issue. Allow me to state in a few words the
position that I and, as I believe, most of my fellow-students take. We
say to the authorities of the medical profession,—‘State clearly what
attainments you consider necessary for a medical practitioner; fix
your standard where you please, but define it plainly; put no
obstacles in our way; either afford us access to the ordinary means of
medical education, or do not exact that we shall use your special
methods; in either case subject us ultimately to exactly the ordinary
examinations and tests, and, if we fail to acquit ourselves as well as
your average students, reject us; if, on the contrary, in spite of all
difficulties, we reach your standard, and fulfil all your
requirements, the question of ‘mental equality’ is practically
settled, so far as it concerns our case; give us then the ordinary
medical licence or diploma, and leave the question of our ultimate
success or failure in practice to be decided by ourselves and the
public.’ This is our position, and I appeal, not to the chivalry, but
to the justice of the medical profession, to show us that it is
untenable, or else to concede it at once.
I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
SOPHIA JEX-BLAKE.
Edinburgh, June 21st.”[68]
Footnote 68:
_Lancet_, July 9, 1870.
Nothing conciliatory here: no appeal for help for “the wee bit thing,”—
the appeal that some men in those days used to find so disarming:
nothing even in the spirit of the “Now remember, Daddy dear,” of those
delightful controversial letters of her girlhood. It is a fair field and
no favour with a vengeance now.
Possibly she might have shortened the battle if she had adopted a more
conciliatory attitude. One might say the same of many of the martyrs.
Had she done so, it would have meant a smaller battle,—a victory far
more limited in its results. If a new move is being effectively made, it
is almost always overdone. That is in the scheme of things. If there
were not faults on both sides, there would be no dramatic action,—no
“story”; and the world would go on its sleepy way, and pay no attention.
“Individuals, feeling strongly, while on the one hand they are
incidentally faulty in mode or language, are still peculiarly
_effective_.... The very faults of an individual excite attention; he
loses, but his cause (if good, and he powerful-minded) gains. This is
the way of things; we promote truth by a self-sacrifice.”
* * * * *
Here then were the opposing forces, duly ranged against each other. One
can almost imagine the move and countermove that were bound to ensue.
And we must not forget the element furnished by the great mass of the
students—though there were “individuals” here, too, of course—on the
look out for mischief and fun, rejoicing in a row, ready “to follow a
beck” as that wise Heron Watson had said.