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.
“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.”
“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 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?”
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.
“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!
But 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.
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.
However all that is beside the question.”
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:
“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....”
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.
“Don’t you like me to lecture you?” she concludes finally, and passes on
to another subject.
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:
“DEAR MISS 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.)
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....
What joyful news that lawsuit news has been. I have had letters of
rejoicing from many folks, but I declare I am chiefly glad for 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.
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....
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....”
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.
“DEAREST LUCY,” she writes,
“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?...
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.”
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 and
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.
“I am glad of both your articles,” writes Mr. Russel about this time,
“but the _beginnings_ of both are de trop.
If I see a topic you would care to handle, I shall be prompt to let
you know.”
“I am much obliged by your MS., which will duly appear as a leader
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.
Footnote 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._
“Sept, 11th.
DARLING MOTHER,
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.
Probably now we shall get a lot more.
Yours lovingly,
SOPH.
His name is Walter Thomson, he had just read my book. (Not a bad 2s.
6d. worth, was it?)”
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 was
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.
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.
“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]
Footnote 106:
Mr. Stansfeld was President of the Local Government Board.
There follow a number of suggestions as to the amendment of 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.
It was in the midst of all this that preparation for the professional
examination went on.
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.
The “last straw” for S. J.-B. was the distressing illness of a very dear
friend in the course of those five precious weeks, and finally we come
without surprise to the following entry in the diary:
“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.”
“Oct. 11th. I’ve had such bother about Anatomy rooms, etc., and shall
have to organize about Fund, etc.
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....
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.
My own Botany stuck fast,—I nervous and shaky again,—feeling strength
go out of me drop by drop.
If only the 22nd were _well_ over!
E. P. came back yesterday, dear child,—so loving and good.”
At this point S. J.-B. breaks off to record the—very indifferent—
achievements of the new students in their preliminary examination!
“Oct. 22nd. Professional Exam.... Did good paper in Nat. Hist.,—fair
in Chemistry, 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.”
Footnote 107:
To visit the friend who had been ill.
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.
There is no denying that it was bad to bear, and the tragic part 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]
Footnote 108:
See extract from _Lancet_, p. 319.
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.
Footnote 109:
See _Huxley’s Life_, i. 387.
“_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.
“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’ was giving him a one-
sided statement, I think he considers us the aggrieved 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....
I 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.”
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.
“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.
Poor Nelly O’B. lost her father a few weeks ago.”
Apparently she wrote to report progress to her brother 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.
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.
Your affectionate brother,
T. W. J.-B.”
Footnote 110:
The previous letter has not been found.
“The Elms.
Monday, 4th November.
MY PRECIOUS 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....”
[The dear old 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 to 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.
Ever your loving Mummy,
MARIA EMILY JEX-BLAKE.
It is best for me to write little.”
[Illustration:
_Henry J. Wells 1862_
_Emery Walker ph. sc._
_Maria Emily Jex-Blake_
_from a drawing in chalks by H. T. Wells R.A. 1862_
]
Meanwhile enquiries poured in on every side. The following paragraph
appeared in a well-known 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.”
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.”
* * * * *
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:
“Wimbledon.
Dec. 14th.
DEAR OLD MAN,
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 [!]...
Write to me like a good man.
Ever your affectionate,
S[ARAH] 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 one of her propagandist Suffrage tours, is
evidence that she brought sufficient moral grit to the 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!
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....
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.
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....
No, the attractions to me would be a definite sphere, and an
independent one, and being associated with you in work of any kind.
It would be a great happiness to me to be with you, and to believe
that I was a help to you however 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.”
A delightful correspondence ensued between Miss M‘Laren and Miss Du Pre,
who knew each other but slightly:
“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 she 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.”
“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.
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 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.”
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.