_Social success--Growth of private practice--Professional
recognition--Consulting staff of leading medical men for
Infirmary--Occasional opening of some dispensary clinics to women
students who there introduce a needed reform--Incident of Dr. J.
Marion Sims, and why a woman was not appointed assistant surgeon
in the New York Woman’s Hospital of which he was chief--Second
mobbing of the Infirmary following death of a patient--Definite
beginning of training of nurses--Trying experience of two fires in
neighborhood--Dr. Zakrzewska’s health begins to show effects of
overstrain--Inquiring visitors from all parts of the United States and
even from England. (Twenty-nine years of age: 1857-1859.)_
During the winter of 1857-1858, our entrance into the social circles
already mentioned was an immense help to the spreading of the idea of
women physicians through our meeting what was then called the “higher
kind of Bohemians,” among whom were preëminently women artists,
aspiring journalists and dramatic students. Although we medical women
were not cordially accepted, as only a few of them dared to make our
acquaintance, our repeated weekly appearances (as one or more of us
made it a point to attend these receptions, no matter how tired we
were) familiarized these small publics with the thought that women
doctors are as good as anybody.
The fashion then was to attend these “socials” regularly; and
_social_ they became. They were not stiff and meaningless as is
the present fashion, where one goes once or twice during the whole
season, shakes hands with the hosts, says some nothings, meets friends
and foes and says more nothings, shakes many hands without knowing why,
and takes some refreshment in thimble cups, which is no refreshment
so scanty is it in quantity and so poor in quality, mere elegant
nothings only pretty to look upon. No; in those years, receptions meant
intellectual recognition, social grace, conversation, and enjoyment in
whatever suited the different tastes, whether a song, or some music, or
a quiet game of whist in a retired corner; and no “refreshment” to make
a show of pretense, but simply plenty of good ice water.
Among these good people, of whom many have since become of eminence in
literature and in art, we gradually developed professionally a small
clientele who, if not paying in lucre, paid with grateful remembrance
in speaking of us, spreading the idea of us and occasionally writing
little articles concerning the New York Infirmary for the leading
papers and journals.
I much regret not to be in possession of any of these writings for, as
I remember them now, they seem to me so juvenile, so absolutely simple
in their tenor, that it might appeal to our sense of humor to read them
in the present altered position of women physicians.
For instance, the public was assured that none of us wore short
hair like men, but dressed gracefully within the fashion; that we
appeared neat in costume, nothing extraordinary indicating our calling,
etc., etc. The only disagreeable thing which they found in us was
that we objected to being called “Doctress,” but insisted upon the
neutral appellation of “Doctor of Medicine.” This led even to lengthy
discussions as to “whether the English language would conform to such a
title for a woman.”
However, this publicity helped “the Cause” and, strange to say,
men were the first who took to the innovation of employing a woman
physician by advising their daughters and wives to avail themselves of
our services.
Thus, at the end of the year 1857, I had quite a comfortable private
practice established. And I took great pains to assure those to whose
families I ministered that, year by year, an increase of better women
doctors would be the consequence of widening their practical experience
and giving them equality of opportunity with the men physicians.
Here my notes read very sanguine, as some of the men highest in
professional standing were exceedingly friendly, both professionally
and privately; and it is with deep gratitude that I mention the names
of Drs. Kissam, Willard Parker, McCready, Aigner and Buck, who gave us
their most cordial assistance.
Dr. Kissam, a prominent obstetrician, was on our consulting staff and
he became quite friendly to our students, though still believing that
Dr. Blackwell and I were exceptions to all womankind. Dr. McCready,
attending physician at Bellevue Hospital, was another one who had put
aside prejudice. The influence of these men procured for our students
attendance at some of the larger dispensaries. In one, the Eastern
Dispensary, Dr. Aigner, one of the Austrian exiles and a man of high
education, took a sincere interest in the whole movement.
When our students expressed their surprise that no books of patients
were kept in these large and rich institutions, no records of cases
or prescriptions retained, in fact, that no methodical system was
followed, these men inquired into our doings and came and looked
through our system, by means of which every patient could be
traced--the name, residence, diagnosis, treatment and subsequent
course. This was a revelation to them; as it was further when I told
them that I never allowed in out-door practice any student to give
a prescription without signing her name to it. Thus, in case of any
question being raised as to mistake in the prescription or mistake by
the druggist (who was by no means in those years always a professional
person in that line, but often a mere business man who opened an
apothecary store), this signature would always tell where to place the
responsibility for the writing of the prescription.
At that time I did not realize, as I do now, that these men, like all
those whose position is fully established both professionally and
financially, could afford to step outside the pale of professional
custom and take up what was not recognized in the strict sense of
common daily life.
It is the insecure, struggling physician who is hostile to the woman
innovator, actually fearing for his bread and butter much more than
for any alleged inferiority of intellect or of professional skill in
the woman, although these latter have always been used as the war cry
against women doctors.
The Boston _Medical and Surgical Journal_, Feb. 16, 1853,
expresses this point of view in an editorial on female physicians,
apropos of Dr. Hunt’s receiving an honorary degree of M.D. from the
Female Medical College of Pennsylvania. It says:
It is not a matter to be laughed down as readily as was at first
anticipated. The serious inroads made by female physicians in
obstetrical business, one of the essential branches of income to a
majority of well-established practitioners, makes it natural enough to
inquire what course it is best to pursue.
Among the young men at that time, Dr. J. Marion Sims played such a
peculiar rôle and one which is so characteristic that I must relate it
here. Dr. Sims had come from the South to New York in 1853, poor and
unknown. He had perfected an important operation which was based on a
German theory, but for which no material to practice on could be found
either in Europe or America, until he was able to utilize the negro
slave women. Dr. Sims quotes “the great Würtzer, of Germany”; and he
told me by word of mouth that he had operated one hundred and eleven
times before he had the first success. This first success followed the
performance of the thirtieth operation upon one of the six or seven
slave women upon whom he had unlimited freedom for experimentation.
As it happened, Dr. Sims was introduced into the same social circle in
which we were acquainted, and learning from certain members that they
were enthusiastically interested in women physicians, he advanced in
a year’s time in such a friendly manner that he had hard work to live
down his friendly advances when he later learned from his professional
brethren, as well as from a wider public, that women physicians were
by no means popular and could in no way forward his plans. However, he
remained outwardly polite to the Drs. Blackwell and myself, inviting
us to his operations in the then small beginning of the Woman’s
Hospital, but excusing himself from further assistance to medical
women as a hindrance to the philanthropic enterprise of enlarging the
above-mentioned institution.
Dr. Sims stood on common ground with the women physicians in that he
also found the medical profession unfriendly, and realized that his
only hope of establishing himself was to open a hospital for himself.
He says in his autobiography, which was published under the title of
_The Story of My Life_, “I said to myself, ‘I am a lost man unless
I can get somebody to create a place in which I can show the world what
I am capable of doing.’ This was the inception of the idea of a woman’s
hospital.... If the profession had received me kindly in New York and
had acted honorably and gentlemanly and generously towards me, I would
not have thought of building a woman’s hospital.... When I left Alabama
for New York, I had no idea of the sort in the world. I came simply for
a purpose the most unselfish in the world--that of prolonging my life.”
While no more fortunate than the women physicians in enlisting the
coöperation of the medical profession, Dr. Sims had greater success
with some prominent and wealthy women, who eventually established the
hospital for him. The work of Dr. Blackwell and the movement in favor
of women physicians had evidently made an impression upon these women
also, because they adopted a by-law providing that “the assistant
surgeon should be a woman”; and Dr. Blackwell and her sister, Dr.
Emily, both well-qualified by their added clinical training in Europe,
were the logical candidates for this position.
Dr. Sims cynically refers to this by-law as follows: “One clause of
the by-laws provided that the assistant surgeon should be a woman. I
appointed Mrs. Browne, a widowed sister of my friend, Henri L. Stuart,
who had been so efficient in organizing the hospital. She was matron
and general superintendent.”
Six months later, he told the board of lady managers that he must have
an assistant. He then offered this position, successively, to two young
men who had just been graduated and who declined it. His third choice
was made because the man had married a young Southern friend of his
youth!
Returning to the friendly physicians mentioned above, they dared
to introduce our students into their dispensary clinics, and they
gave clinical instruction to us at the Infirmary, thus helping on
gratuitously the few women who were struggling faithfully to fit
themselves for their responsible calling. It was the more estimable
in these men that their audience was a small one whenever they came
to our hospital during the winter evenings, the largest number never
exceeding six. And they were always ready to come in consultation, even
if they were requested to attend the same case repeatedly.
My heart is still full of joy when I think how kind and helpful these
men were in protecting us in this way; and even, also, against brutal
assault, as, for instance, in a case of appendicitis to which Dr.
Kissam had been every other day in consultation and which ended in
death. His advice had been the application of cold water compresses,
which were in vogue at that time.
On the morning following the day on which the patient died, a number
of men appeared before the Infirmary, demanding entrance and creating
within ten minutes a large mob to whom they were talking loudly,
declaring that this was an institution of some cranky women who killed
people with cold water. I had found means for sending a messenger from
the back door to Dr. Kissam, and it was through his presence that no
harm was done to the institution. He addressed the mob and advised the
disturbed people to have a coroner sent for to make an examination
in the presence of twelve of themselves as a jury. It was a sight
to behold--these poor distraught men in overalls, with dirty hands,
disheveled hair and grim faces, standing by during the autopsy, and
at its close, declaring their satisfaction that death had been an
unavoidable consequence of the disease.
New Year’s Day, 1858, was one of the brightest and pleasantest winter
days we ever enjoyed. A friend to women physicians had placed money in
my hands for gifts to our faithful servants; and another friend sold to
me at half price a whole piece of thibet, so that I was able to present
each one of my hardworking women with a dress, as well as with some
sweetmeats, all of which were duly appreciated.
Perhaps nobody, nowadays, can understand the willingness and devotion
of the women who assisted me in carrying on this primitive little
hospital: who were willing to work hard, in and out of hours; who fared
extremely plainly and lodged almost to uncomfortableness; yet who felt
that a good work was being accomplished for all womankind. And this was
true of all--students, nurses and domestic help.
The eight months of experiment had stimulated us all with great hope
for the future, and we now began to make more positive plans for
the education and training of nurses. The first two who presented
themselves for this training were superior women, one a German, the
other an American, but neither was willing to give a longer time than
four months, during which they received no compensation except their
keeping and one weekly lesson from me on the different branches of
nursing.
After these left, it was again a German woman who presented herself,
and who, after four months’ training, remained as head nurse for
several years. The second pupil nurse was sometimes of American,
sometimes of Irish, descent and nothing remarkable.
This whole year had nothing special to note except that the press
began to take a little more favorable notice of our doings and was
ready to speak in favor of a Fair which again was arranged for at
the end of the year; and this publicity spread the idea of women’s
competency to take care of sick people.
We had constant applications from students to share in the experience
of practice which we offered, and who were willing to live outside in
order to attend the dispensary; while the number of patients in daily
attendance at this latter increased so rapidly that we had to establish
the rule of locking the door against admission after a certain hour.
Among the applicants were all sorts of extremists--such as women
in very short Bloomer costume, with hair cut also very short, to
whom the patients objected most strenuously; others were training
as practitioners in a water-cure establishment, and wished to avail
themselves of our out-door practice in order to introduce their
theories and methods of healing. In fact, we were overrun with advisers
and helpers whom we had to refuse. Popular prejudices could be overcome
only in the most careful and conservative manner; and even our most
ardent friends and supporters shared to a certain degree in the feeling
of uncertainty as to the success of our experiment.
Personally, I received during this year great comfort in the
acquaintances and lifelong friendships gained. And the recollection
of these friends calls forth such a deep feeling of gratitude for
their devotion in our work of love, and for their trust in me, and of
admiration for their high purpose to serve humanity, that I consider
it worth while to have lived if for no other reason than to realize
through them the goodness of womankind.
So the year closed upon us as one which had brought great satisfaction
in all we expected to gain, professionally and as bearers of a new
idea. Youth was with us all, and our hopes of success knew no limit. We
were the happiest, even if materially the poorest, of a group of women
which included friends engaged in different lines of work, such as
journalism, art and music. Of these, none identified herself so closely
with us as Mary L. Booth, later editor of _Harper’s Bazar_, who
spent every Sunday with us, and who often shared my room and bed when
she was out at night as reporter of the New York _Times_ too late
to return to her home in Williamsburg.
Oh! happy days! Springtime of life! It was the “May” which never
returns to the human being, and the beauty of which we realize only
long after it has passed. Memories of these glorious days keep with
us and reconcile us to the many sad, dark, anxious and trying hours
through which we all have to pass in one form or another. These latter
make us wiser, perhaps, but certainly not happier, even though we have
struggled successfully through the years and feel that we should be
contented with what we have accomplished.
Still, there was a dark side to my experience during that year. The
sick headaches, to which I had been subject off and on since childhood,
came upon me quite often and very unexpectedly, evidently due to the
overstraining of all my forces, physical and mental, and I was quite
often obliged to relinquish some very important duties.
Before leaving this year’s record, I must add a few remarks concerning
our work, that is, mine and that of the ten or twelve students who had
been connected with the Infirmary now for twenty months.
The prejudice against women physicians was by no means confined to that
stratum of society where education and wealth nurtured the young. We
found it just as strong, through habit and custom, among the working
people and among the very poorest of the poor. Their coming to our
dispensary was not _a priori_ appreciation of the woman physician,
but was the result of faith in the _extraordinary_, just as now
faith-curers with other claims are sought and consulted in illness.
Our work was that of real missionaries. Even among the well-to-do and
intelligent, little or nothing was known of hygiene. If “a goneness in
the stomach” was felt, whisky, brandy or a strong tonic was resorted
to for relief. Diet, rest and the sensible use of water were never
considered.
So among the poor we found everywhere bad air, filth and utter
disregard of food. And sponges, as well as soap, were carried in the
satchels of our young medical women along with the necessary implements
of the physician. And the former were given to the patients’ friends,
after showing them the use of water and soap in fever cases as well as
in ordinary illness. It was an innovation in the minds of the people,
the teaching that sick people must be bathed and kept clean, and that
fresh air was not killing.
The good results obtained by the addition of these sanitary auxiliaries
whose use was permitted only through our persuasion, created almost a
superstitious faith in us and resulted in sending to us patients from
a distance of ten and twelve miles from Bleecker Street. This made
increased demands on our physical and nervous powers, for we made it a
point not to refuse any person if it were at all possible to see her.
Thus we placed foundation stones here and there all over Manhattan
Island upon which to build our superstructure of medical practice by
women. In this respect, as in all solid production in nature and in
civilization, a sound foundation must be created first. No reform,
no culture can be successful if we limit ourselves to the higher
intellects. We must under all conditions be careful not to speak over
the heads of the mentally mediocre crowd.
The soil in which the seed is sown must be examined, then prepared, and
then cultivated in the most prudent and careful manner--only then can
we expect to have the seed take root and grow.
The gaining of confidence is not obtained by showing your own
superiority; nay, it is by hiding this latter and allowing the persons
whom you want to benefit to think well of themselves, yet continuing
to lead them, indirectly, to the idea that there is a possibility of
their bettering themselves. Only by such a proceeding is it possible
to bring about confidence; then an attachment follows and, finally, a
dependence upon your higher wisdom which will always end in admiration
and gratitude. Whenever this is not the case, it shows failure in our
having been wise, or kind, or comprehending of the situation; in
short, it is the fault of the would-be benefactor.
We had two strange accidents in the neighborhood during that year. Our
backyard and outbuildings faced the rear of a livery stable containing
more than forty horses. This stable took fire one afternoon about five
o’clock. I was just coming home, and I felt so sure of the solidity of
our own buildings that I was able to control the excitement of all our
inmates who, in bed and out of bed, were perfectly quiet and remained
in their rooms in spite of the smoke and noise and all the confusion
which a large fire causes.
A few months later at four o’clock in the morning, I was just retiring
to my room after having attended a patient below when I heard the cry
of “Fire!” And looking out of my window, I saw that a man had upset a
fluid lamp, filling the whole room with flames, while he with his night
shirt on fire was seeking to escape through the door which he could
not find, thus burning to death before my eyes. It was an appalling
spectacle, and before I could really comprehend the situation, firemen
appeared and worked hard, for the conflagration soon included several
buildings.
Again, I could control my patients and the other inmates, although our
students and servants dressed hastily and were ready to obey commands
in case of need. Fortunately for us, the wind blew the flames in the
opposite direction from our house, and I trusted in this fact. Had I
had the experience of the Chicago and Boston conflagrations, I would
not have trusted to the wind nor perhaps have been able to control
a family of nearly forty heads. Such is the blessing of youthful
inexperience! But the strain of anxiety on these two occasions was
tremendous, and I was laid up each time for a couple of days with a
severe sick headache.
Visitors interested in women physicians came from all parts of the
United States as well as from England, but especially from Boston. I
was often at the same time amused and pained when disappointment was
expressed over the smallness of our hospital, and we had to take great
pains to explain our out-door department work.
From the very beginning, I had instituted record books in which the
name, age, residence, occupation, diagnosis and treatment of every
individual case were written--of those who were in the hospital, those
who came to the dispensary clinics, and those who were attended at
their homes.
These books revealed to the visitors our activity, and they were
admired also by our professional brethren. No such records then existed
in their dispensaries but were introduced after our example, primitive
as it was in those years. However, having such records saved us a great
deal of annoyance in many ways, as we offered them for inspection to
all whom they concerned; and they protected us against any accusation
of carelessness, ignorance or malpractice of any kind.
It was the same with the prescriptions given when the medicines were
not provided by us. I insisted that every one who wrote a prescription
should sign her name, if not also the name of the patient. As my name
was so long, I have always signed _M. E. Z._