STUDY IN AMERICA
1847-1849
In the summer of 1847, with my carefully hoarded earnings, I resolved
to seek an entrance into a medical school. Philadelphia was then
considered the chief seat of medical learning in America, so to
Philadelphia I went; taking passage in a sailing vessel from Charleston
for the sake of economy.
In Philadelphia I boarded in the family of Dr. William Elder. He and
his admirable wife soon became warm and steadfast friends. Dr. Elder
(author of the life of Dr. Kane, the Arctic voyager) was a remarkable
man, of brilliant talent and genial nature. He took a generous interest
in my plans, helping by his advice and encouragement through the
months of effort and refusals which were now encountered.
Applications were cautiously but persistently made to the four
medical colleges of Philadelphia for admission as a regular student.
The interviews with their various professors were by turns hopeful
and disappointing. Whilst pursuing these inquiries I commenced my
anatomical studies in the private school of Dr. Allen. This gentleman
by his thoughtful arrangements enabled me to overcome the natural
repulsion to these studies generally felt at the outset. With a tact
and delicacy for which I have always felt grateful, he gave me as my
first lesson in practical anatomy a demonstration of the human wrist.
The beauty of the tendons and exquisite arrangements of this part
of the body struck my artistic sense, and appealed to the sentiment
of reverence with which this anatomical branch of study was ever
afterwards invested in my mind.
During the following months, whilst making applications to the
different medical colleges of Philadelphia for admission as a regular
student, I enlisted the services of my friends in the search for
an Alma Mater. The interviews with the various professors, though
disappointing, were often amusing.
_Extracts from the Journal of 1847_
_May 27._—Called on Dr. Jackson (one of the oldest professors
in Philadelphia), a small, bright-faced, grey-haired man,
who looked up from his newspaper and saluted me with,
‘Well, what is it? What do you want?’ I told him I wanted to
study medicine. He began to laugh, and asked me why. Then I
detailed my plans. He became interested; said he would not
give me an answer then; that there were great difficulties,
but he did not know that they were insurmountable; he would
let me know on Monday. I came home with a lighter heart,
though I can hardly say I hope. On Monday Dr. Jackson said
he had done his best for me, but the professors were all
opposed to my entrance. Dr. Horner advised me to try the
Filbert Street and Franklin schools. A professor of Jefferson
College thought it would be impossible to study there, and
advised the New England schools.
_June 2._—Felt gloomy as thunder, trudging round to Dr.
Darrach. He is the most non-committal man I ever saw. I
harangued him, and he sat full five minutes without a word.
I asked at last if he could give me any encouragement. ‘The
subject is a novel one, madam, I have nothing to say either
for or against it; you have awakened trains of thought upon
which my mind is taking action, but I cannot express my
opinion to you either one way or another.’ ‘Your opinion,
I fear, is unfavourable.’ ‘I did not say so. I beg you,
madam, distinctly to understand that I express no opinion
one way or another; the way in which my mind acts in this
matter I do not feel at liberty to unfold.’ ‘Shall I call on
the other professors of your college?’ ‘I cannot take the
responsibility of advising you to pursue such a course.’
‘Can you not grant me admittance to your lectures, as you
do not feel unfavourable to my scheme?’ ‘I have said no
such thing; whether favourable or unfavourable, I have not
expressed any opinion; and I beg leave to state clearly that
the operation of my mind in regard to this matter I do not
feel at liberty to unfold.’ I got up in despair, leaving
his mind to take action on the subject at his leisure.
Dr. Warrington told me that he had seen his friend
Dr. Ashmead, who had told him that Paris was such a
horrible place that I must give up my wish for a medical
education—indeed, his communication would be so unfavourable
that he would rather not meet me in person. I told the
Doctor that if the path of duty led me to hell I would
go there; and I did not think that by being with devils I
should become a devil myself—at which the good Doctor stared.
Nevertheless, I shrink extremely from the idea of giving
up the attempt in America and going to France, although
the suggestion is often urged on me.
The fear of successful rivalry which at that time often existed in the
medical mind was expressed by the dean of one of the smaller schools,
who frankly replied to the application, ‘You cannot expect us to
furnish you with a stick to break our heads with;’ so revolutionary
seemed the attempt of a woman to leave a subordinate position and seek
to obtain a complete medical education. A similarly mistaken notion
of the rapid practical success which would attend a lady doctor was
shown later by one of the professors of my medical college, who was
desirous of entering into partnership with me on condition of sharing
profits over 5,000 dollars on my first year’s practice.
During these fruitless efforts my kindly Quaker adviser, whose private
lectures I attended, said to me: ‘Elizabeth, it is of no use trying.
Thee cannot gain admission to these schools. Thee must go to Paris
and don masculine attire to gain the necessary knowledge.’ Curiously
enough, this suggestion of disguise made by good Dr. Warrington was
also given me by Doctor Pankhurst, the Professor of Surgery in the
largest college in Philadelphia. He thoroughly approved of a woman’s
gaining complete medical knowledge; told me that although my public
entrance into the classes was out of the question, yet if I would
assume masculine attire and enter the college he could entirely
rely on two or three of his students to whom he should communicate
my disguise, who would watch the class and give me timely notice to
withdraw should my disguise be suspected.
But neither the advice to go to Paris nor the suggestion of disguise
tempted me for a moment. It was to my mind a moral crusade on which
I had entered, a course of justice and common sense, and it must be
pursued in the light of day, and with public sanction, in order to
accomplish its end.
The following letter to Mrs. Willard of Troy, the well-known
educationalist, describes the difficulties through which the young
student had to walk warily:—
Philadelphia: May 24.
I cannot refrain from expressing my obligations to you
for directing me to the excellent Dr. Warrington. He has
allowed me to visit his patients, attend his lectures, and
make use of his library, and has spoken to more than one
medical friend concerning my wishes; but with deep regret I
am obliged to say that all the information hitherto obtained
serves to show me the impossibility of accomplishing my
purpose in America. I find myself rigidly excluded from the
regular college routine, and there is no thorough course of
lectures that can supply its place. The general sentiment of
the physicians is strongly opposed to a woman’s intruding
herself into the profession; consequently it would be
perhaps impossible to obtain private instruction, but if
that were possible, the enormous expense would render it
impracticable, and where the feelings of the profession
are strongly enlisted against such a scheme, the museums,
libraries, hospitals, and all similar aids would be closed
against me. In view of these and numerous other difficulties
Dr. Warrington is discouraged, and joins with his medical
brethren in advising me to give up the scheme. But a strong
idea, long cherished till it has taken deep root in the
soul and become an all-absorbing duty, cannot thus be laid
aside. I must accomplish my end. I consider it the noblest
and most useful path that I can tread, and if one country
rejects me I will go to another.
Through Dr. Warrington and other sources I am informed
that my plan can be carried out in Paris, though the free
Government lectures, delivered by the faculty, are confined
to men, and a diploma is strictly denied to a woman, even
when (as in one instance, as it is said) she has gone through
the course in male attire; yet every year thorough courses
of lectures are delivered by able physicians on every branch
of medical knowledge, to which I should be admitted without
hesitation and treated with becoming respect. The true place
for study, then, seems open to me; but here, again, some
friendly physicians raise stronger objections than ever.
‘You, a young unmarried lady,’ they say, ‘go to Paris, that
city of fearful immorality, where every feeling will be
outraged and insult attend you at every step; where vice
is the natural atmosphere, and no young man can breathe
it without being contaminated! Impossible, you are lost if
you go!’
Now, dear madam, I appeal to you, who have had the
opportunity of studying the French in their native land,
is not this a false view, a greatly exaggerated fear? Is
it not perfectly true everywhere that a woman who respects
herself will be respected by others; that where the life is
directed by a strong, pure motive to a noble object, in a
quiet, dignified, but determined manner, the better feelings
of mankind are enlisted, and the woman excites esteem and
respectful sympathy? To my mind this is perfectly clear, and
I trust that your more experienced judgment will confirm my
opinion. Probably, then, if all the information which I am
still collecting agree with what I have already received,
I may sail for France in the course of the summer, that I
may familiarise myself with a rapid French delivery before
the commencement of the winter lectures.
I have tried to look every difficulty steadily in the face.
I find none which seem to me unconquerable, and with the
blessing of Providence I trust to accomplish my design.
After a short, refreshing trip with my family to the seaside, the
search was again renewed in Philadelphia. But applications made for
admission to the medical schools both of Philadelphia and of New York
were met with similarly unsuccessful results.
I therefore obtained a complete list of all the smaller schools of the
Northern States, ‘country schools,’ as they were called. I examined
their prospectuses, and quite at a venture sent in applications for
admission to twelve of the most promising institutions, where full
courses of instruction were given under able professors. The result
was awaited with much anxiety, as the time for the commencement of
the winter sessions was rapidly approaching. No answer came for some
time. At last, to my immense relief (though not surprise, for failure
never seemed possible), I received the following letter from the
medical department of a small university town in the western part of
the State of New York:—
Geneva: October 20, 1847.
To Elizabeth Blackwell, Philadelphia.
I am instructed by the faculty of the medical department
of Geneva University to acknowledge receipt of yours of 3rd
inst. A quorum of the faculty assembled last evening for the
first time during the session, and it was thought important
to submit your proposal to the class (of students), who
have had a meeting this day, and acted entirely on their
own behalf, without any interference on the part of the
faculty. I send you the result of their deliberations, and
need only add that there are no fears but that you can,
by judicious management, not only ‘disarm criticism,’ but
elevate yourself without detracting in the least from the
dignity of the profession.
Wishing you success in your undertaking, which some may deem
bold in the present state of society, I subscribe myself,
Yours respectfully,
CHARLES A. LEE,
Dean of the Faculty.
15 Geneva Hotel.
This letter enclosed the following unique and manly letter, which I
had afterwards copied on parchment, and esteem one of my most valued
possessions:—
At a meeting of the entire medical class of Geneva Medical
College, held this day, October 20, 1847, the following
resolutions were unanimously adopted:—
1. _Resolved_—That one of the radical principles
of a Republican Government is the universal
education of both sexes; that to every branch
of scientific education the door should be open
equally to all; that the application of Elizabeth
Blackwell to become a member of our class meets
our entire approbation; and in extending our
unanimous invitation we pledge ourselves that
no conduct of ours shall cause her to regret her
attendance at this institution.
2. _Resolved_—That a copy of these proceedings
be signed by the chairman and transmitted to
Elizabeth Blackwell.
F. J. STRATTON, _Chairman_.
With an immense sigh of relief and aspiration of profound gratitude
to Providence I instantly accepted the invitation, and prepared for
the journey to Western New York State.
Leaving Philadelphia on November 4, I hastened through New York,
travelled all night, and reached the little town of Geneva at 11 P.M.
on November 6.
The next day, after a refreshing sleep, I sallied forth for an
interview with the dean of the college, enjoying the view of the
beautiful lake on which Geneva is situated, notwithstanding the cold,
drizzling, windy day. After an interview with the authorities of the
college I was duly inscribed on the list as student No. 130, in the
medical department of the Geneva University.
I at once established myself in a comfortable boarding-house, in the
same street as my college, and three minutes’ walk from it—a beautiful
walk along the high bank overlooking the lake. I hung my room with
dear mementoes of absent friends, and soon with hope and zeal and
thankful feelings of rest I settled down to study.
Naturally, some little time was required to adjust the relations of
the new student to her unusual surroundings. My first experiences
are thus given in a letter to a sister:—
Geneva: November 9, 1847.
I’ve just finished copying the notes of my last lecture.
Business is over for to-day; I throw a fresh stick into
my ‘air-tight,’ and now for refreshment by a talk with my
own dear sister. Your letter containing E.’s was the first
to welcome me in my new residence; right welcome, I assure
you, it was, for I was gloomy—very. It was on Monday evening
your letter came—my first work-day in Geneva. It had rained
incessantly; I was in an upper room of a large boarding-house
without a soul to speak to. I had attended five lectures,
but nevertheless I did not know whether I could do what I
ought to, for the Professor of Anatomy was absent, and had
been spoken of as a queer man. The demonstrator hesitated
as to my dissecting; I had no books, and didn’t know where
to get any; and my head was bewildered with running about
the great college building—never going out of the same door
I went in at.
This evening, however, I have finished my second day’s
lectures; the weather is still gloomy, but I feel sunshiny
and happy, strongly encouraged, with a grand future before
me, and all owing to a fat little fairy in the shape of the
Professor of Anatomy! This morning, on repairing to the
college, I was introduced to Dr. Webster, the Professor
of Anatomy, a little plump man, blunt in manner and very
voluble. He shook me warmly by the hand, said my plan was
capital; he had some fun too about a lady pupil, for he
never lost a joke; the class had acted manfully; their
resolutions were as good as a political meeting, &c.
He asked me what branches I had studied. I told him all
but surgery. ‘Well,’ said Dr. Lee, ‘do you mean to practise
surgery?’ ‘Why, of course she does,’ broke in Dr. Webster.
‘Think of the cases of femoral hernia; only think what a
well-educated woman would do in a city like New York. Why,
my dear sir, she’d have her hands full in no time; her
success would be immense. Yes, yes, you’ll go through the
course, and get your diploma with great _éclat_ too; we’ll
give you the opportunities. You’ll make a stir, I can tell
you.’
I handed him a note of introduction from Dr. Warrington,
and then he told me to wait in the ante-room while he
read it to the medical class, who were assembled in the
amphitheatre for his lecture, which was to be preparatory
to one of the most delicate operations in surgery, and I
suppose he wanted to remind them of their promise of good
behaviour. I could hear him reading it. When his age and
experience were spoken of there was a shout of laughter, for
he can’t be more than forty-five and not much of dignity
about him; but at the conclusion there was a round of
applause, after which I quietly entered, and certainly have
no reason to complain of medical students, for though they
eye me curiously, it is also in a very friendly manner.
After the lecture was over, the demonstrator, who now shows
the utmost friendliness, explained to me at the Doctor’s
request a very important subject which I had lost. It was
admirably done, illustrated on the subject, and if to-day’s
lessons were a fair specimen, I certainly shall have no
cause to complain of my anatomical instructors. The plan
pursued here is admirable, and New York and Philadelphia
may learn more than one lesson from Geneva. Dr. Webster
came to me laughing after the first lecture, saying: ‘You
attract too much attention, Miss Blackwell; there was a
very large number of strangers present this afternoon—I
shall guard against this in future.’ ‘Yes,’ said Dr. Lee;
‘we were saying to-day that this step might prove quite a
good advertisement for the college; if there were no other
advantage to be gained, it will attract so much notice. I
shall bring the matter into the medical journals; why, I’ll
venture to say in ten years’ time one-third the classes
in our colleges will consist of women. After the precedent
you will have established, people’s eyes will be opened.’
Now, all this kind feeling encourages me greatly, and I need
it; for though my purpose has never wavered, a flat, heavy
feeling was growing upon me from constant disappointment.
I was fast losing that spring of hope that is so pleasant;
consequently praise cannot make me vain, and the notice I
attract is a matter of perfect indifference. I sit quietly
in this large assemblage of young men, and they might be
women or mummies for aught I care. I sometimes think I’m
too much disciplined, but it is certainly necessary for the
position I occupy. I believe the professors don’t exactly
know in what species of the human family to place me, and
the students are a little bewildered. The other people at
first regarded me with suspicion, but I am so quiet and
gentle that suspicion turns to astonishment, and even the
little boys in the street stand still and stare as I pass.
’Tis droll; sometimes I laugh, sometimes I feel a little
sad, but in Geneva the nine days’ wonder soon will cease,
and I cannot but congratulate myself on having found at
last the right place for my beginning.
I had not the slightest idea of the commotion created by my appearance
as a medical student in the little town. Very slowly I perceived that
a doctor’s wife at the table avoided any communication with me, and
that as I walked backwards and forwards to college the ladies stopped
to stare at me, as at a curious animal. I afterwards found that I
had so shocked Geneva propriety that the theory was fully established
either that I was a bad woman, whose designs would gradually become
evident, or that, being insane, an outbreak of insanity would soon
be apparent. Feeling the unfriendliness of the people, though quite
unaware of all this gossip, I never walked abroad, but hastening
daily to my college as to a sure refuge, I knew when I shut the great
doors behind me that I shut out all unkindly criticism, and I soon
felt perfectly at home amongst my fellow-students.
The following extracts from my journal of those days show how any
early difficulties were successfully overcome:—
_November 9._—My first happy day; I feel really encouraged.
The little fat Professor of Anatomy is a capital fellow;
certainly I shall love fat men more than lean ones
henceforth. He gave just the go-ahead directing impulse
needful; he will afford me every advantage, and says I shall
graduate with _éclat_. Then, too, I am glad that they like
the notoriety of the thing, and think it a good ‘spec.’
_November 10._—Attended the demonstrator’s evening
lecture—very clear—how superior to books! Oh, this is the
way to learn! The class behaves very well; and people seem
all to grow kind.
_November 11._—Anatomy very interesting to-day; two admirable
demonstrations. Dr. Webster, full of enthusiasm, told us of
Godman, who was converted to phrenology by reading a work
against it, in order to cut it up.
_November 15._—To-day, a second operation at which I was
not allowed to be present. This annoys me. I was quite
saddened and discouraged by Dr. Webster requesting me to
be absent from some of his demonstrations. I don’t believe
it is his wish. I wrote to him hoping to change things.
_November 17._—Dr. Webster seemed much pleased with my
note, and quite cheered me by his wish to read it to the
class to-morrow, saying if they were all actuated by such
sentiments the medical class at Geneva would be a very
noble one. He could hardly guess how much I needed a little
praise. I have no fear of the kind students.
_November 20._—In the amphitheatre yesterday a little folded
paper dropped on my arms as I was making notes; it looked
very much as if there were writing in it, but I shook it off
and went on quietly with my notes. Some after-demonstration
of a similar kind produced a hiss from the opposite side
of the room. I felt also a very light touch on my head,
but I guess my quiet manner will soon stop any nonsense.
_November 22._—A trying day, and I feel almost worn out,
though it was encouraging too, and in some measure a triumph;
but ’tis a terrible ordeal! That dissection was just as
much as I could bear. Some of the students blushed, some
were hysterical, not one could keep in a smile, and some
who I am sure would not hurt my feelings for the world
if it depended on them, held down their faces and shook.
My delicacy was certainly shocked, and yet the exhibition
was in some sense ludicrous. I had to pinch my hand till
the blood nearly came, and call on Christ to help me from
smiling, for that would have ruined everything; but I sat
in grave indifference, though the effort made my heart
palpitate most painfully. Dr. Webster, who had perhaps the
most trying position, behaved admirably.
_November 24._—To-day the Doctor read my note to the class.
In this note I told him that I was there as a student with
an earnest purpose, and as a student simply I should be
regarded; that the study of anatomy was a most serious one,
exciting profound reverence, and the suggestion to absent
myself from any lectures seemed to me a grave mistake. I did
not wish to do so, but would yield to any wish of the class
without hesitation, if it _was_ their desire. I stayed in
the ante-room whilst the note was being read. I listened
joyfully to the very hearty approbation with which it was
received by the class, and then entered the amphitheatre
and quietly resumed my place. The Doctor told me he felt
quite relieved.
No further difficulty ever afterwards occurred.
_December 4._—Dr. Webster sent for me to examine a case
of a poor woman at his rooms. ’Twas a horrible exposure;
indecent for any poor woman to be subjected to such a
torture; she seemed to feel it, poor and ignorant as she
was. I felt more than ever the necessity of my mission.
But I went home out of spirits, I hardly know why. I felt
alone. I must work by myself all life long.
_Christmas Day._—Bright and gay with sleighs. The lake
looks most beautiful, the mist rising from it in arches,
the sky a brilliant blue, and the ground covered with snow.
I received my Christmas Annual with great joy; and having
purchased 25 cents’ worth of almonds and raisins, I had
quite a cosy time reading it.
_Sunday, January 16._—A most beautiful day; it did me good.
The text impressed itself on me—‘Thou wilt keep him in
perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.’ I felt happy
and blessed. Ah! if the Almighty would always shine on me,
how strong I should be! ‘The Lord God is a sun and shield;
the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will He
withhold from them that walk uprightly.’
The behaviour of the medical class during the two years that I was with
them was admirable. It was that of true Christian gentlemen. I learned
later that some of them had been inclined to think my application for
admission a hoax, perpetrated at their expense by a rival college.
But when the _bona-fide_ student actually appeared they gave her a
manly welcome, and fulfilled to the letter the promise contained in
their invitation.
My place in the various lecture-rooms was always kept for me, and I
was never in any way molested. Walking down the crowded amphitheatre
after the class was seated, no notice was taken of me. Whilst the
class waited in one of the large lecture-rooms for the Professor of
Practice, groups of the wilder students gathered at the windows,
which overlooked the grounds of a large normal school for young
ladies. The pupils of this institution knew the hour of this lecture,
and gathered at their windows for a little fun. Here, peeping from
behind the blinds, they responded to the jests and hurrahs of the
students. ‘See the one in pink!’ ‘No, look at the one with a blue
tie; she has a note,’ &c.—fun suddenly hushed by the entrance of the
Professor. Meanwhile I had quietly looked over my notes in the seat
always reserved for me, entirely undisturbed by the frolic going on
at the windows.
My studies in anatomy were most thoughtfully arranged by Dr. Le Ford,
who selected four of the steadier students to work with me in the
private room of the surgical professor, adjoining the amphitheatre.
There we worked evening after evening in the most friendly way, and
I gained curious glimpses into the escapades of student life. Being
several years older than my companions, they treated me like an elder
sister, and talked freely together, feeling my friendly sympathy.
Under the intelligent instruction of the demonstrator anatomy became a
most fascinating study. The wonderful arrangements of the human body
excited an interest and admiration which simply obliterated the more
superficial feelings of repugnance; and I passed hour after hour at
night alone in the college, tracing out the ramification of parts,
until, suddenly struck by the intense stillness around, I found that
it was nearly midnight, and the rest of the little town asleep.
I was equally amazed and shocked some years later, after dining with
Mr. Walsh, the American Consul in Paris, to learn that he had remarked
that he could not look at my long slender fingers without thinking
of the anatomical work in which they had been engaged.
As the term drew to its end there was regret at parting from friends I
had made, and also anxiety from the uncertainties that still attended
my future course. These feelings are expressed in my journal:—
_January 21._—I felt sad when the lectures actually closed. I
received a curious friendly letter from one of the students,
requesting the honour of an occasional correspondence. It
cheered me, funny as it was. Another student told me he had
a daguerreotype-room, and asked me to sit for my likeness
to-morrow; but I told him it had annoyed me so much to see
my name in the papers that I certainly could not give my
face too.[3] He said he had thought of graduating in August,
but now he was glad he had not, as I intended returning to
Geneva—too funny!
_January 24._—Went to Dr. Hadley for my certificate; and
attended the examinations. I suppose they were as thorough
as most; but they were certainly not much of a test. Most
of the students answered very well, but some very badly.
Miss Waller gave me an oyster supper and we had a very
pleasant time. Mrs. Wilson convulsed us by an account of
how she was actually struck down by the sudden braying of a
jackass, which she heard for the first time during a visit
to the North, she never having heard the bray before.
_January 25._—Attended Commencement (or ceremony of
graduation), which after all was not so very formidable.
When I went to wish Dr. Hadley good-bye I found the whole
faculty assembled, and very merry at breaking up. They
talked over my affairs, but gave me no important advice.
To my great disappointment no letters of introduction were
prepared for me, but only a promise given that they should
be sent on at once. I was very sad at parting from the
Wallers; but had a pleasant chat with the students whom I
found in the railroad cars.
Passing through New York, where I dined with my kind preceptor, Dr.
S. H. Dickson, and his wife, then living in the town, I returned to
Philadelphia to try and arrange for summer study. Whilst seeking
medical opportunities I again stayed in Dr. Elder’s family, and
endeavoured to increase my slender finances by disposing of some
stories I had written, and by obtaining music pupils.
Knowing very little of practical medicine, I finally decided to spend
the summer, if possible, studying in the hospital wards of the great
Blockley Almshouse of Philadelphia. This enormous institution promised
a fine field of observation. I obtained a letter of introduction to
Mr. Gilpin, one of the directors of the almshouse.
He received me most kindly, but informed me that the institution was
so dominated by party feeling that if he, as a Whig, should bring
forward my application for admission, it would be inevitably opposed
by the other two parties—viz. the Democrats and the Native Americans.
He said that my only chance of admission lay in securing the support
of each of those parties, without referring in any way to the other
rival parties. I accordingly undertook my sole act of ‘lobbying.’ I
interviewed each political leader with favourable results, and then
sent in my petition to the first Board meeting—when, lo! a unique
scene took place; all were prepared to fight in my behalf, but there
was no one to fight! I was unanimously admitted to reside in the
hospital. This unanimity, I was afterwards assured, was quite without
precedent in the records of the institution.
On entering the Blockley Almshouse, a large room on the third floor
had been appropriated to my use. It was in the women’s syphilitic
department, the most unruly part of the institution. It was thought
that my residence there might act as a check on the very disorderly
inmates. My presence was a mystery to these poor creatures. I used to
hear stealthy steps approach and pause at my door, evidently curious to
know what I was about. So I placed my table with the books and papers
on which I was engaged directly in a line with the keyhole; and there
I worked in view of any who chose to investigate the proceedings of
the mysterious stranger. The following home letter gives a glimpse
of the Blockley life:—
August.
DEAR MOTHER,—Do not fear for me. I go on smoothly and
healthily at Blockley; there is really nothing pestilential
amongst the diseases, and I live simply, do my duty, trust
in God, and mock at the devil! The matron is the only lady
in the establishment (present company excepted), and I
frequently step in to see her. She wears a nice white cap,
has smooth grey hair, and soft dove’s eyes like yours, and I
sometimes look at her and think of you till her loud voice
breaks forth in fierce scolding, and then I think of Mrs.
Beelzebub. She sits in an immense room, in the centre of
the almshouse proper, and ensconced in her armchair, with
feet propped on a velvet footstool, she dispenses orders
from morning to night, gives out clothing, raves at the
paupers, and dooms the refractory ones to a shower-bath.
She is a Quaker—very pious, I believe—attends yearly meeting
regularly, and has an Episcopal minister for her only son;
she is one of the ‘strong-minded women,’ and manages matters
to the entire satisfaction of the committee. I like to talk
with her occasionally, for she is shrewd and has seen much
of life through dark spectacles.
What a contrast she is to our head physician! When I first
saw Dr. Benedict I thought him the very loveliest man the
Almighty ever created, and I still preserve my opinion;
the tears come into his eyes as he bends down to soothe
some dying woman, and his voice is as gentle, his touch as
kind to each patient as if she were his sister. Then he is
as truthful, energetic, and spirited as he is kind, so, of
course, we are very good friends, though we don’t see much
of each other.
I often send a thought to Cincinnati as I roam through the
wards and imagine our contrasted employments; all letters
unite in calling you the best, the most cheerful, most
indefatigable mother that ever did exist. ‘All her daughters
praise her, and her sons call her blessed.’ How I wish you
could pay me another visit this summer! Well, dear mother,
Heaven bless you—write to me sometime.
Your loving physician, E.
At that time, and for many years after, the subject which those
wards where I lived represented was an unknown problem to me. I was
strangely ignorant of the extent and meaning of that phase of our
human society which represents the selfish relations of men and women.
This semi-blindness, however, proved a real safeguard to me through
the many unusual experiences of my subsequent life. It was not until
1869, when attending the Social Science Congress in Bristol, that my
mind at last fully comprehended the hideousness of modern fornication.
But my residence at Blockley prepared my mind to some extent for
later revelations, as is shown by entries in my journal:—
_June 22._—I had a long talk with Nurse Welch, on the
patients in her departments, which impressed me deeply. Most
of the women are unmarried, a large proportion having lived
at service and been seduced by their masters, though, on
the whole, about as many seducers are unmarried as married;
I found no instance of a married woman living with her
husband entering.
This morning one young woman tried to escape from Blockley
by tying sheets together and fastening them outside the
window bars, but they giving way, she fell down from the
third storey, and was picked up suffering from concussion
of the brain and other injuries. All this is horrible!
Women must really open their eyes to it. I am convinced
that _they_ must regulate this matter. But how?
_August 17._—Drank tea with the matron, and had a very
pleasant time. She excites me, and I influence her. She
actually apologised to me for her rough and tyrannical
treatment of one of the women.
_August 19._—A beautiful thought came to me this lovely
morning. Emerson says, ‘Our faith comes to us in moments,
our vice is habitual.’ I never till now could explain
this to my satisfaction. It is that the atmosphere of our
society, of our daily surroundings, is false; it attracts
the demons, they encompass us continually, for we live in
their home. The angels have to strive to come to us. But
when by a holy inspiration, or an effort of man’s nobler
nature, he rises to a purer sphere, then the angels throng
lovingly round him: he breathes the Divine life. But the
moment this effort is relaxed, he, not living in a heavenly
atmosphere, naturally and inevitably sinks again into hell,
because his present home is there—for he cannot separate
himself from the race. Not till the _race_ is redeemed will
our habitual state be heavenly, and the true spontaneous
Divine life be possible. This is the philosophy of effort.
The solidarity of our race asserts the impossibility of
present permanent Divine life. Bless God for our deep
momentary experiences—our prophetic assurances! This sweet
morning refreshes me inexpressibly. The wind that lifts my
hair seems filled with angel hands that soothe the soul to
peace; that little warbling bird fills me with holy joy;
a glory seems to rest everywhere, a tide from the Divine
Nature.
During my residence at Blockley, the medical head of the hospital, Dr.
Benedict, was most kind, and gave me every facility in his power. I
had free entry to all the women’s wards, and was soon on good terms
with the nurses. But the young resident physicians, unlike their
chief, were not friendly. When I walked into the wards they walked
out. They ceased to write the diagnosis and treatment of patients on
the card at the head of each bed, which had hitherto been the custom,
thus throwing me entirely on my own resources for clinical study.
During the summer of 1848 the famine fever was raging in Ireland.
Multitudes of emigrants were attacked with fever whilst crossing the
ocean, and so many were brought to Blockley that it was difficult to
provide accommodation for them, many being laid on beds on the floor.
But this terrible epidemic furnished an impressive object-lesson,
and I chose this form of typhus as the subject of my graduation
thesis, studying in the midst of the poor dying sufferers who crowded
the hospital wards. I read my thesis to Dr. Elder, and was greatly
encouraged by his hearty approbation.
Trying as my painful residence at Blockley had been both to body
and mind, I was conscious of the great gain in medical knowledge and
worldly experience which it had afforded. The following journal entry
expresses the mixed feelings with which that strange residence was
left:—
_September 22._—My last evening at Blockley. Here I
sit writing by my first fire. How glad I am, to-morrow,
to-morrow, I go home to my friends! And yet as I watched
the beautiful sunset from my great windows, as little Mary
Ann pays her willing attendance, and all seems so friendly;
as I walked to Dr. Benedict’s with my thesis, and felt the
entrancing day and the lovely country, I _almost_ regretted
that I was going to leave. Heaven guide me! May good spirits
ever surround me!
At the end of the summer I gladly returned to the healthy and
hopeful college life at Geneva. Passing through New York, where I
saw Dr. Dickson and his family and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach,
I reached my winter’s home on October 3, reported myself at college,
met everywhere a kind welcome, and settled down for winter work. The
clever demonstrator again afforded me his valuable aid in anatomy, and
the friendliness of the class continued. Sometimes, whilst sitting
by the Doctor during some delicate demonstration of the brain, the
students who were crowding round, standing on chairs, leaning on one
another’s shoulders, kept most respectfully from me, drawing back
instantly when by accident they touched my head or shoulder.[4]
_October 26._—The class held a meeting to-day to request
a holiday on election day; and a political division was
called for by the assembled students. I went over to the
‘Free Soil’ side, and was received with repeated cheering.
I asked Dr. Le Ford, reproachfully, if he was going to
vote for the slave-holder, Taylor; whereupon he gave me
his reasons for political action, and grew quite eloquent
in his self-defence.
_November 12._—Howy made his appearance to-day, just as I
settled down to perpetrate an essay for the family Christmas
Annual. How good it is to see a brother! He looked very
well, and we had a merry time together. I stayed away from
afternoon lectures to be with him. He is a capital companion
and greatly improved. I did more laughing than I’ve done
for months. His visit did me real good, for I have been so
lonely. Heaven bless the dear boy in his future!
_Sunday, 19th._—Alone all day in my room, yet anything but
lonely. Bright visions of usefulness have been floating
round me. I consecrated myself anew to the accomplishment
of a great idea. I tried to lecture for an hour to an
imaginary audience; striving to prepare for work by seeking
expression for my thoughts.
I would I were not so exclusively a doer; speech seems
essential to the reformer, but mine is at present a very
stammering, childish utterance.
_26th._—Went to church. Mr. Hogarth said some true things.
He drew our thoughts to the reformers of old, with their
sublime trust in the Most High. With a strange feeling of
pleasure I claimed kindred with Asa, King of Judah, who
broke the idols of the people and overcame the hosts of
the Ethiopians.
_November 30._—Our evening lecture broke up in a political
Hurrah! for a Whig orator and John Van Buren were both
speaking in the town, and the students rushed to attend
the political meetings. I again discussed the subject with
Dr. Le Ford; he justifying himself enthusiastically for
being a Whig. He talked well, but I grew tired of those
old expediences.
By this time the genuine character of my medical studies was fully
established.
Had I been at leisure to seek social acquaintance, I might have
been cordially welcomed. But my time was anxiously and engrossingly
occupied with studies and the approaching examinations. I lived in
my room and my college, and the outside world made little impression
on me.
_Extracts from the Journal._
_December 22._—The deepest snow I have seen for years. It
was as much as I could do to walk to college; but all was
pleasant, the class seem so very friendly. One set me a
chair, another spoke so pleasantly, and I had several little
friendly chats. How little they know my sensitiveness to
these trifling tokens! The unusual weather, an alarm of fire,
Dr. Webster’s arrival, were so many points for sociability.
_December 31._—The New Year’s Eve. Alone, as usual, I
spent the day; at night, as I watched the last moments of
the year slowly depart, a deep solemnity came over me—a
hopeless sorrow for poor humanity. I seemed to hear the
heavy resounding bell of time, tolling mournfully the dying
year, whilst angels with covered faces, and forms that
bent with sorrow, waited to receive the finishing scroll
of the world’s existence, that the fearful record guarded
in darkness and silence might at last be unrolled in the
terrible light of eternity!
_January 1._—Stayed quietly in my room, whilst the merry
sleigh-bells and gay voices rang without.
_11th._—I called to see the pretty blind girl operated on
this morning; she was all alone in the hotel, her friends
far away. Poor child! she has no protector, within or
without; she asked me who the student was that brought her
home, when college would be out, &c.; her simple heart and
idle fancy are soon caught. Such are the women I long to
surround with my stronger arm. Alas! how almost hopeless
does the task seem! But God is omnipotent.
_January 19._—Dear M.,—I sit down to try and quiet myself by
writing to you for this morning. I, as first on the list of
candidates, passed through the usual examinations, presented
my certificates, received the testimony of satisfaction from
the faculty, whose recommendation will procure me the diploma
next Tuesday. Now, though the examinations were not very
formidable, still the anxiety and effort were as great as
if everything were at stake, and when I came from the room
and joined the other candidates who were anxiously awaiting
their turn, my face burned, my whole being was excited, but
a great load was lifted from my mind. The students received
me with applause—they all seem to like me, and I believe
I shall receive my degree with their united approval; a
generous and chivalric feeling having conquered any little
feelings of jealousy. I often feel when I am with them how
beautiful the relations of man and woman might be under a
truer development of character, in nobler circumstances. I
do not know the moral character of any one of our students,
for I have no genius for hunting up the darker parts of
a person’s soul; but I know that Geneva is a very immoral
place, the lower classes of women being often worthless,
the higher ones fastidious and exclusive, so that there is
no healthy blending of the sexes. But notwithstanding the
bad associations in which they may have been brought up, I
have never had any difficulty in giving the right tone to
our intercourse. I am more convinced than ever that Fourier
is right in placing this matter in the hands of women, and
my hope rises when I find that the inner heart of the human
being may still remain pure, notwithstanding some corruption
of the outer coverings. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you
how deep this matter of licentiousness has gradually sunk
into my soul, and that the determination to wage a war of
extermination with it strengthens continually, and the hope
of gaining power and experience to do it worthily is one
of my strongest supports in action. So help me God, I will
not be blind, indifferent, or stupid in relation to this
matter, as are most women. I feel specially called to act
in this reform when I have gained wisdom for the task; the
world can never be redeemed till this central relation of
life is placed on a truer footing.
But I meant to talk to you about the cholera. Our physicians
confessedly cannot cure it. The Professor who lectured upon
it yesterday commenced: ‘Gentlemen, I wish I could tell you
how to cure the cholera, but under all modes of treatment
the mortality seems to be the same; however, I will tell
you something of the disease, and what I would do if called
to a case.’
The cordial relations with Professor and students continued. Throughout
the examination time the most friendly interest was felt in my success
by my fellow-students. One of my brothers came on to Geneva to attend
my graduation. Being personally a stranger to the students, he was
much amused by the free indications of friendly comradeship which
he overheard. The ceremony of conferring the full and equal diploma
of Doctor of Medicine upon a woman excited much interest in the
neighbourhood. It was held in the large Presbyterian Church, which,
with its ample galleries, was crowded in every part with spectators.
The other students walked in procession from the college to the church,
but I went up with my brother and took my seat in the side aisle.
_Extracts from the Journal of 1849._
_January 22._—Our examinations came off successfully.
Hurrah,’tis almost over!
_Tuesday, January 23, 1849._—The day, the grand day, is
nearly finished; and now whilst visitors are dropping in I
must record my first entrance into public life—’twas bright
and beautiful and very gratifying. Great curiosity was felt.
As I entered and sat in the church I gave one thought to
friends, and then thought only of the Holy One. After the
degree had been conferred on the others, I was called up
alone to the platform. The President, in full academical
costume, rose as I came on the stage, and, going through
the usual formula of a short Latin address, presented me
my diploma. I said: ‘Sir, I thank you; it shall be the
effort of my life, with the help of the Most High, to shed
honour on my diploma.’ The audience applauded, but their
presence was little to me. I was filled with a sense of the
grandeur of a holy life, with high resolves for the future.
As I came down, George Field opened the door of the front
row, and I was much touched by the graduates making room
for me, and insisting that I should sit with them for the
remainder of the exercises. Most gladly I obeyed the friendly
invitation, feeling more thoroughly at home in the midst
of these true-hearted young men than anywhere else in the
town. I heard little of what was said; my whole soul was
absorbed in heavenly communion. I felt the angels around
me. Dr. Lee gave the valedictory address; he surprised me
by the strong and beautiful way in which he alluded to the
event. I felt encouraged, strengthened to be greatly good.
As I stood at the door the faculty all most kindly wished
me good-bye, and Dr. Hale and Bishop De Lancy shook hands
and congratulated me. All the ladies collected in the entry,
and let me pass between their ranks; and several spoke to
me most kindly.
For the next few hours, before I left by train, my room was
thronged by visitors. I was glad of the sudden conversion
thus shown, but my past experience had given me a useful
and permanent lesson at the outset of life as to the very
shallow nature of popularity.
The following letter, written by a younger brother who came to be
with me on this important occasion, gives some interesting as well
as amusing details of the event:—
Geneva: January 23, 1849.
BELOVED RELATIONS.—The important crisis is past, the great
occasion over, the object of so much and so justifiable
anticipation has been attained, and proud as I always
feel of the Blackwells, my familism never seemed to me so
reasonable and so perfectly a matter of course as it did this
morning, when, having escorted E. into the crowded church
and taken my seat beside her, we learned from the music
that the graduating class, headed by the dean, trustees,
faculty, &c., were marching in solemn conclave into the
aisle. I found E. well and in good spirits, as you may
suppose. Monday morning E. and I went to the college, where
she underwent a second examination, as did also the other
members of the graduating class, from the curators of the
university, no others but themselves, the class, and the
faculty being admitted. From this, as from the former one,
our Sis came off with flying colours and the reputation of
being altogether the leader of the class. In the afternoon
they were successively called upon to read from their
theses, and to this I was admitted; but Elizabeth’s being
in Buffalo to be printed, she could not be called upon.
The Professor and students all seem to feel most kindly
and warmly friendly. While I sat by the stove on Monday
morning at the college whilst the graduating class were
undergoing their examination below, the other students,
scarcely any of them being acquainted with my personality,
conversed freely about matters and things, and of course
about Elizabeth. ‘Well, boys,’ one would say, ‘our Elib.
feels first-rate this morning. Do you notice how pleased
she looks?’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ replied another, ‘and I think
she well may after the examination she passed yesterday.’
‘So Lizzie will get her diploma after all,’ said a third.
‘If any member of the class gets one, _she_ is sure of
it,’ said a fourth. Then all agreed that ‘our Elib.’ was ‘a
great girl,’ and in short I found that she was a universal
favourite with both professors and students. Nothing could
be more cordial than the former are, and several are very
gentlemanly and intelligent men indeed, and I formed some
pleasant acquaintances among them.
On the morning of the Commencement little Dr. Webster was _in
his glory_; he is a warm supporter of Elizabeth and likes
a fuss, and nothing could exceed his delight when he found
that the whole country round was sending in large numbers
of people, and that all the ladies of Geneva were turning
out _en masse_ to see a lady receive a medical diploma.
At ten o’clock A.M. the students met at the college and
marched in procession with music to the Literary College,
where they were headed by the Bishop of New York, Dr. Hale,
the dean, and the curators, the faculty, &c. Dr. Webster
was very anxious that E. should march in procession, and
sent down two messages to that effect; but E. very properly
refused. About half-past ten o’clock Elizabeth and I walked
up to the church—she was very nicely dressed in her black
brocaded silk gown, _invisibly green_ gloves, black silk
stockings, &c. As we ascended the college steps, Dr. Webster
met Eliz. and again urged the request, whereupon she told him
peremptorily that ‘it wouldn’t be ladylike.’ ‘Wouldn’t it
indeed? Why, no, I forgot—I suppose it wouldn’t,’ said the
little Doctor, evidently struck for the first time with the
idea. So it was arranged that Eliz. and I should sit down
at the entrance of the left aisle and join the procession
as it came up, and we then walked in and sat down. We found
the church, galleries and all, _crowded with ladies_, they
only having been as yet admitted; and of course when we
came in there was a general stir and murmur, and everybody
turned to look at us. By the time the procession came up,
all the pews, except those reserved for students, were
filled, and the gentlemen had to pour in afterwards and take
the aisles, &c. When the procession entered, Mr. Field,
a very pleasant, gentlemanly fellow-graduate, offered his
arm, and all the class took their seats together in front
of the stage. After a short discourse by Dr. Hale, the
President, the diplomas were conferred—four being called
up at a time—and, ascending the steps to the platform, the
President, addressed them in a Latin formula, taking off
his hat, but remaining seated, and so handed them their
diplomas, which they received with a bow and retired.
Elizabeth was left to the last and called up alone. The
President taking off his hat, rose, and addressing her in the
same formula, substituting _Domina_ for _Domine_, presented
her the diploma, whereupon our Sis, who had walked up and
stood before him with much dignity, bowed and half turned to
retire, but suddenly turning back replied: ‘Sir, I thank you;
by the help of the Most High it shall be the effort of my
life to shed honour upon your diploma;’ whereupon she bowed
and the President bowed, the audience gave manifestations of
applause, little Dr. Webster rubbed his hands, the learned
curators and faculty nodded grave approbation at each other
upon the platform, and our Sis, descending the steps, took
her seat with her fellow-physicians in front. Now walks up
into the pulpit Professor Lee, with a large manuscript and
a solemn air, and commences his address to the graduates.
It was on the whole good; he gave it pretty strong to
Homœopathists, Hydropathists, Mesmerists, Thompsonians,
&c., and gave the ladies of the audience quite a lecture
for their encouragement and circulation of quack medicines,
informing them that they had better study a little the
principles of medicine before attempting to practise what
they were so profoundly ignorant about. At the close he
alluded to the novel proceeding which they had taken, and
the censure or imitation which it would necessarily create.
He justified the proceeding, and passed a most gratifying
and enthusiastic encomium on the result of the experiment
in the case of Eliz. He pronounced her the _leader_ of
her class; stated that she had passed through a thorough
course _in every department_, slighting none; that she had
profited to the very utmost by all the advantages of the
institution, and by her ladylike and dignified deportment
had proved that the strongest intellect and nerve and the
most untiring perseverance were compatible with the softest
attributes of feminine delicacy and grace, &c., to all
which the students manifest by decided attempts at applause
their entire concurrence. As the audience passed out the
Bishop came up with Dr. Hale, requested an introduction, and
spoke very pleasantly, congratulating her on her course, to
the great astonishment of the conservatives. As we walked
out of the church we found that almost all the ladies had
stopped outside, and as we appeared, opened their ranks and
let us pass, regarding E. with very friendly countenances.
Most of E.’s time was taken up till our departure next day
at half-past one o’clock in receiving calls from her few
friends.
The admission of a woman for the first time to a complete medical
education and full equality in the privileges and the responsibilities
of the profession produced a widespread effect in America. The public
press very generally recorded the event, and expressed a favourable
opinion of it.
Even in Europe some notice of it was taken, and ‘Punch’ showed his
cordial appreciation by his amusing but friendly verses.[5]
I knew, however, that a first step only had been taken. Although
popular sanction had been gained for the innovation, and a full
recognised status secured, yet much more medical experience than I
possessed was needed before the serious responsibilities of practice
could be justly met. Returning, therefore, to Philadelphia, I
endeavoured still to continue my studies. I was politely received by
the heads of the profession in Philadelphia as a professional sister,
and made the following notes in a journal of that date:—
_March 6._—A morning of great gratification; welcomed
cordially to the university, and afterwards heard Doctors
Jackson, Hodges, Gibson, Chapman, and Horner lecture. Drs.
Lee and Ford were with me, the former quite in spirits at
my reception.
_March 10._—Heard Dr. Williamson lecture and received
his ticket. Visited the Pennsylvania Hospital, Dr. Levich
showing me over it; admired the gallery with its alcoves
and the excellent ventilation. I heard Professor Agassiz
last night. He has just commenced a course of lectures
on the animal world; his manner was simple and earnest,
and the principle he laid down will render his course of
lectures very interesting if he develop them fully. I am
also rubbing up my French, which may be very important to
me.
The following letter is characteristic of that period of life:—
February 25.
MY DEAR MOTHER.—You sent me a dear, good, welcome letter,
and I kiss you heartily for all its affection and sympathy
in my eccentric course. I did not miss out, either, any
of the pious parts, but I do think, mother mine, that it
is a little hard that you will not believe me when I tell
you so seriously that my soul is doing first-rate. You
urge upon me the importance of religion—why, bless the
dear mother, what am I doing else but living religion all
the time? Isn’t it my meat and my drink to do the good
will of God; didn’t I use to sit in the lecture-room and
send up a whole cannonade of little prayers; and didn’t a
whole flood of answers come straight down from the throne
of grace? And what am I doing now? Do you think I care
about medicine? Nay, verily, it’s just to kill the devil,
whom I hate so heartily—that’s the fact, mother; and if
that isn’t forming Christ in one, the hope of Glory, why,
I don’t know what is. So pray comfort yourself, and have
faith that such a ‘child of many prayers’ will be fixed
up all straight at last.... I live in a good society, the
fellowship of hard-workers, for however little the result
of my actions may be, I have the strengthening conviction
that my aim is right, and that I, too, am working after
my little fashion for the redemption of mankind. I agree
with you fully in distrusting the ‘Harbinger,’ and should
certainly banish it from my centre table if I had risen to
the dignity of possessing one. I dislike their discussions,
and their way of discussing some subjects. I think them
calculated to do a great deal of mischief, and am only
consoled by the reflection that few people read them. I go
in whole-souledly for the Divine marriage institution, and
shall always support it by precept, and as soon as I get
the chance by example too, and all those who would upset it
I consider fools and infidels. I think Associationists too
often a very poor set of people, and if they would commence
by reforming themselves, and let the Almighty take care of
the world, I think they would be much better employed. As
to the infidel French philosophy you talk of, it is just
twaddle, which I should instantly reject if anybody were to
stuff it into me. I am now longing to be at work abroad,
where I might spend my time much more profitably—but I do
want greatly to see you all again. How long it is since I
was at home!—more than five years, I think. I cannot consent
to become a stranger to the _Geschwistern_, and W. and E.
& E. seem almost unknown. Good-bye, dear mother. I shall
see you soon, and then you will be able to read me sermons
to your heart’s content.—Your M. D.
I felt, however, keenly the need of much wider opportunities for study
than were open to women in America. Whilst considering this problem I
received an invitation from one of my cousins, then visiting America,
to return with him to England, and endeavour to spend some time in
European study before engaging in practice in America. This valuable
offer was joyfully accepted, and I prepared for a journey to Europe,
first of all paying a short farewell visit to my family in Cincinnati.
_Extracts from the Journal._
_April 5._—How kind and good and glad to see me they all
were! I walked out with S. and met them all. G. had quite
grown out of my knowledge. I am very glad to have spent
this fortnight at home. We had general and private talks
without end.
_April 7._—They all came down to see me off. They stood on
the adjoining boat as we sailed away up the river, mother
leaning on S., the three sisters on one side, H. and G. on
the other, all hearts in sympathy. I could not keep down
the tears as I caught the last glimpse of those dear, true
ones.
Travelling East, I joined my cousin in Boston, whence we sailed for
Liverpool.
_Extracts from the Journal._
_April 18._—Dear Mr. Channing was with me till I left. His
medical uncle, Dr. Channing, also came to see me. I never
met my old friend more fully; he regretted deeply this
flying visit, which disappointed him in the talks he had
planned. Beautiful Boston Bay vanished in the distance.
America, that land of memories, was left far behind. I took
to my berth and lay there in misery five days and nights.
How I loathe the ship!