Among the first successful female physicians of Boston, where she was born
in 1805, is Harriot K. Hunt, M. D. Her father was a shipping merchant,
who, by honesty and uprightness died comparatively poor, for riches are
not always to the upright. Her mother is described by Rev. H. B. Elliot,
"as one possessing a mind of remarkable qualities, argumentative,
practical, independent, and, withal, abounding in tenderness and genial
brightness." In 1830 we find Miss Hunt not only thrown upon her resources
for her own livelihood (her father having left but barely the house that
gave them shelter to be called their own), but the support and care of an
only and invalid sister, somewhat her junior, were also entirely dependent
upon her labors. As a school teacher she met the former, as a student and
nurse she finally surmounted the latter. "What! more pedagogues turned
doctors?"
After nearly three years' employment of various physicians on the part of
the elder sister, and the extreme suffering from the "distressing and
complicated disease," and, what was worse, the "severest forms of
prescriptions of the old school of physic" for the same time by the
younger sister, the Misses Hunt were led to investigate for themselves.
They purchased medical works, which they read early and late.
In 1833 Harriot leased her house, and entered the office of a doctress,
Mrs. Mott by name, in the double capacity of secretary and student. The
younger sister became a patient of Mrs. Mott's. The husband of Mrs. Mott
was an English physician, who, with his wife to attend the female portion
of his patients, had established himself in Boston. Mrs. Mott was without
a thorough medical education. "She made extravagant claims to medical
skill in the treatment of cases regarded as hopeless." In 1835 Dr. Mott
died, and Mrs. Mott returned to England. Under the treatment of the latter
the invalid sister had so much improved in health as to be able to "walk
the streets for the first time in three years;" yet where is the "old
school doctor," or the veriest charlatan, that would give her the credit
she so seemingly deserved in this case. Both were her opponents. Even the
students of the neighboring medical school were "pitted against her." The
old adage respecting his Satanic majesty having the credit due him, did
not seem to apply to her case. But Mrs. Mott was more than a match for
their cunning, if not for their scientific theorizings, as the following
anecdote will show.
"Three wise men of Gotham," that amiable lady, Mrs. Goose, tells us,
"went to sea in a bowl; and had the bowl been stronger, my song would have
been longer." This has its parallel in the three wise students of H----,
who laid their wise heads together, and went to _see_--Mrs. Mott, the
doctress, of Hanover Street. One was to pretend that he had some peculiar
disease, for which he, with his anxious friends, wished to consult the
"wise woman." They entered the doctor's office, and demanded to see the
doctress. This was an open insult to the woman, as she only gave her
attention to females and children. Nevertheless, Mrs. Mott, whose
olfactory nerves were not so obtuse as to prevent her from distinguishing
the aroma of that peculiar little animal quadruped of the genus _Mus_,
obeyed the summons, and entered the presence of the three wise
Æsculapians.
Now the fun began. Not the fun that _was to be_ at the expense of the
"ignorant old female quack," however.
One of the gentlemen arose, and after a profound bow, began, with some
embarrassment, to state his case.
"But wait just a moment," the doctress interrupted. "You intimate that it
is a _peculiar_ case. My fee for consultation in such cases is _three
dollars_. Please hand over the money, and proceed."
This was an unexpected demand. They had thought to have a little fun,
expose the woman's ignorance, and have a "huge thing" to tell to their
class-fellows, _and not pay for it_! Mrs. Mott was a woman, but she
possessed powerful magnetic influence, and held fast to the point, viz.,
her fee for consultation; and to the chagrin of the patient (?), and the
astonishment of his chums, the three dollars were paid over to the
doctress.
"Now, sir, you will please state your case," said the lady, pocketing the
fee, adjusting her eye-glasses, and seating herself for a consultation.
"Yes. Well--it is a--a peculiar case," stammered the patient.
"You have informed me of that point before. Please proceed," remarked the
doctress with great complacency to the embarrassed fellow.
"It's a delicate case," he blushingly replied.
"O, indeed; then step into this private consulting room;" and arising, she
led the way to an inner office, where the young man involuntarily
followed, greatly to the amusement of the two remaining students, who
remarked, "It is getting blamed hot for us here."
[Illustration: THREE WISE STUDENTS CONSULTING A DOCTRESS.]
In a moment, the invalid--greatly improved, one might judge, from his
agility,--rushed from the private sanctum with a bound, grasped his hat
from the table, exclaiming, "Come on, for God's sake!" and rushed from the
house, followed by his now thoroughly affrighted companions.
"What's the matter? What did the old tarantula say to you?" demanded the
young man's chums, when well outside of the web into which they had so
impudently intruded themselves.
"Don't you ever ask me," he vociferated. "A ---- pretty mess you got me
into. But if either of you ever again mistake that old woman for a fool, I
hope to God she'll take you into her private consulting room."
But to return to Miss Hunt and her sister. In 1855 or '56 the sisters
opened an office in Boston. As with all young physicians without "dead
men's shoes," professional support, or wealthy and influential friends to
back them, patients gathered slowly at first, but with a steady increase,
the care of whom soon devolved entirely upon Harriot, as her sister
married, and retired from practice.
In 1847 she had an extensive practice among a wealthy and influential
class of people, which many an older physician of the sterner sex might
envy. With a large practical knowledge, acquired in twelve years'
experience, she applied to Harvard College for permission to attend a
course of medical lectures. She was refused admission. In 1850 she again
applied. The officers consented this time, but the students offered such
objections to the admission of females into their presence, that Miss Hunt
generously declined to avail herself of the long-coveted opportunity.
"The Female Medical College," at Philadelphia, in 1853, granted Miss Hunt
an honorary degree.... She is now in the midst of an extensive practice.
Miss Hunt has lived a glorious, self-denying life, upholding her sister
co-laborers, and the "dignity of the profession," never demeaning herself
by stooping to sell her knowledge, by any of those disreputable practices
that mark the avaricious M. D., the charlatan, the parasites, and the
leeches of the profession, both male and female.
Among eighty-five "female physicians" (?) of Boston, eighteen claim to be
graduates of some college. We know of several who deserve a favorable
mention here, but present limits will not admit.