The speakers were all women and in favor of the measure. They were

seven in number and each spoke for about ten minutes. They were

fluent, eloquent, concise and modest. Their dignity was superb. There

was a great deal of applause, and happiness over what had been gained

was expressed in many a face. But the whole affair lacked vitality,

enthusiasm, and breadth of feeling and fellowship. And, compared with

even our smallest meetings, no matter whether held by women alone or

by both men and women, it made me homesick for Boston--for America!

Should you see any of our Doctors (for instance, Dr. Morton), ask

them whether they care to read this epistle. Perhaps Dr. Smith will

decipher it and read it at one of their meetings. But let Miss G. have

it first, and tell me in a few words what you think of it, and how you

are doing and whether your health and that of our friends is good and

strong and ready to carry our work a little farther on.

I am getting rested, and while my two companions are going sightseeing

I am writing this. If you want to recommend our lodgings here, do so.

They are in every respect desirable and recommendable. Be sure to

give my love to all inquiring friends--Miss Farnham, Miss Cary, Mrs.

Boardman, and a number of others whom I have no more paper to mention.

Faithfully yours,

M. E. ZAKRZEWSKA.

In 1880-1881, the New England Hospital took the important step of

requiring all resident students to be the possessors of the degree of

M.D., and of changing their status to that of _internes_.

In 1881, plans were made for having a nurse always on duty at the

Dispensary to respond to calls in the out-practice, but these plans did

not materialize until 1883, the New England Hospital thereby becoming

the leader in establishing the service of District Nursing. This form

of service has since additionally expanded, under other auspices, into

an organization which on a large scale renders valuable assistance to

patients at their homes.

The year 1884 was marked by the setting up of another milestone along

the upward path of the medical woman, this being that the Massachusetts

Legislature not only permitted but directed the appointment of medical

women in the State Hospitals for insane patients.

In February, 1886, Dr. Zakrzewska writes to Dr. Sewall, who was then in

Europe:

... In ten weeks from to-day, I shall start on my Western tour, and I

suppose you will start by that time for the United States.

My health is very good. I am better than I have been for thirty years

and a great deal better than when I went to Europe five years ago.

Nevertheless, I look forward to a five months’ vacation with a great

deal of pleasure and feel sure that it will add years of health to my

life.

The Hospital work goes on well. I suppose Dr. Call informs you of the

different legacies we have received. Even if they are not yet handed

over to the treasurer, we can now be sure of the solidity of the

institution as far as money is concerned.

Now comes the professional standard and the question as to whether in

the course of time women as physicians will prove themselves to be

organizers and creators or simply handmaids. So far we cannot boast of

much originality among our corps of women. However, we can feel sure

that all the women physicians of the Hospital are above the average of

the men physicians. Genius, after all, is rare.

Apropos of sister Rosalie. It occurred to me that you with your usual

generosity might think of her and bring with you some present for her.

Now I honestly beg of you not to do any such thing, because the poor

thing is sick and tired of all the bric-a-brac and vases which she has

received, in spite of our not sending out invitations.

Last Sunday morning when I called, she showed me a whole closet full

of stuff which she had packed away in the attic because it is beyond

human thought and possibility to place these things and take care of

them in her little house. When I told her in consolation that she

might use these things as presents again in the course of time, she

replied in her usual way, “No, I shall never inflict them on people.

If I make presents, I shall give flatirons.”

My nephew Herman is engaged to be married to a young German-American

lady who visited me for a week. She is handsome, an accomplished

singer and pianist, a good housekeeper, and a sensible woman. We are

very happy about his choice and feel grateful to her that she selected

him.

On the 22d at twelve o’clock, I shall give a great lunch party to

the students and doctors. About fifty people will come, I hope. The

snowdrops in Washington Street are in bloom since the 9th.

In line with her questioning in this letter of the achievements of

medical women of the then present date, is her estimate of the quality

of the women students of the later times as compared with those of the

earlier days. She writes:

I am frequently asked whether the quality of medical students among

women is not much better now than formerly. This question is a

very subtle one to reply to justly. There is no doubt but that the

educational standard among all youths, female and male, has been

greatly raised; that accomplishments are not so universally considered

all the education that girls need; that the increase of colleges for

women alone, as well as the coeducational institutions, has promoted

a thoroughness of training which was unknown fifty years ago in the

schooling of young girls; and that all these advantages have promoted

thought and earnestness of purpose in deciding upon a profession.

But that the student of either sex is in consequence of this education

of a better quality and promising more marked ability, especially in

the medical profession, by no means follows.

In the early decade of this movement, the woman who entered upon

professional study had to possess qualities which no school, college

or university can bestow. Originality, perseverance, persistency,

self-abnegation, industry in study, and a certain amount of practical

knowledge, as well as perception of human nature and social

conditions, were absolutely necessary for each and every woman student

in order to succeed even in going through the medical colleges then at

their disposal, to say nothing of later attempts to enter into general

practice.

The help then offered by professional men was not based at all upon

the principle of right nor on the suitability of the woman to become

a physician. No, it was offered only by such men as stood head and

shoulders above their colleagues in the professions. They were men who

could afford to make enemies in and out of professional circles and

who could afford to be pleased with a talented “exceptional woman”;

intellectually to pet her, as it were; to teach her; to indulge her;

yes, to speak in high terms of her and compare her with historic women

of the past, feeling even proud that they had discovered such an

exception to womankind.

They seemed entirely unaware that the woman student perceived their

delusions but nurtured in the depth of her heart the conviction,

“What I am able to do now, hundreds, yes, thousands, will be able

to accomplish after me.” Meanwhile, the women were grateful for all

favors, advantages and teachings, utilizing them but industriously

aiming higher and higher so as to gain all that could be gained

through the qualities enumerated above.

Such a schooling trained the women far better than all the colleges

do now, in spite of their excellence; on the other hand, the

complaints of the women students of to-day as to the disadvantages yet

to be overcome are greater than they were then. Yet at this present

time, almost every chance exists for women if it is in them, to become

original investigators, workers and practitioners.

CHAPTER XXXVI

_Twenty-fifth anniversary of the New England Hospital--Drs.

Zakrzewska, Sewall and Morton resign as attending physicians and

are appointed advisory physicians--Presentation to the Hospital of

portrait of Dr. Zakrzewska painted by Miss Ellen E. Hale--Address by

Dr. Zakrzewska before the Moral Education Association--Her reply to

the question “Should Women Study Medicine?”--Her opinion on “What’s in

a Name?” (1887-1890.)_

In 1887, the Hospital celebrated its twenty-fifth anniversary, a

pleasant feature of the event being the presentation to the Hospital

by the graduates and internes of the portrait of Dr. Zakrzewska. This

was painted by Miss Ellen E. Hale and was placed in the directors’

parlor. The occasion was also marked by the resignation of all three

of the attending physicians, Drs. Zakrzewska, Sewall, and Morton. So

many qualified women were becoming available for hospital service and

were asking for opportunities, that these three women who had borne the

burden and heat of the earlier years felt they could now stand aside

and make room for their younger sisters.

Their resignations were accepted and they were immediately appointed

advisory physicians, thus remaining in a position where their knowledge

and skill continued to be available to the Hospital and to their

successors, those immediately following them being Dr. Emma L.

Call[21] and the Drs. Augusta and Emily Pope.[22]

The additional time thus available to Dr. Zakrzewska gave her greater

opportunity to respond to the many demands upon her for public speaking

and writing.

An address delivered before the “Moral Education Association of

Massachusetts” about this date is so timely, and so pertinent to the

problems which still beset us to-day, that it is here inserted:

The question is often asked me by persons not attending these

meetings, What is this Moral Education Association? and What does it

intend to accomplish?

When I reply, I always construct my explanation as I myself comprehend

the motives of this Association and the purposes toward which we

intend to work.

I am naturally an optimist. I fully believe that the world--by which I

mean the human beings on this mighty planet--is constantly improving;

that we, as a people of to-day, are progressing; and that we have

reached a condition of physical, mental and moral improvement such as

has never before been attained by the inhabitants of this globe. Yet I

feel that we are far from being what we might become if each one of us

would carry out fully, all the time, daily and hourly, the precepts of

the Golden Rule.

In order to attain such a state of perfection, workers are constantly

needed who, with deeper insight or stronger convictions or warmer

hearts, shall lift the banner high over all our heads, and thus summon

followers from all directions.

Now I call this Moral Education Association such a banner.

During the thirteenth century, after the knights of Middle and Western

Europe returned from their crusading expeditions in the Holy Land and

settled again in their homes, they formed an association, the chief

object of which was to raise the “standard of honor.” A spoken word

was an inviolable contract; an ignoble deed, however slight, was

considered so dishonorable as to relegate the perpetrator from the

order of knighthood.

To many, it may seem to have been an unmeaning pastime, this

cultivation by these men of an ideal honor in themselves and in

others. Yet this movement ushered in a grand era of poetry, both lyric

and dramatic, of chivalry, and of learning. It formed the nucleus of

right in many directions and created a new code of morals.

In this same sense, and applying it to the elevation of the honor of

woman, I joined this Association because I know that it is a good

field in which women can work by helping to create a code of morals

befitting our enlightened age, a code which shall govern our relations

to all mankind, to our children, to each other as women, and to the

State.

The increase of wealth and the increase of an intelligent population

producing more and more wealth--this is the bright side of our

progressive age. But there is also the dark side of the picture--the

increase of luxury and its twin brother, sensuality.

In nature, as a rule, it is the female who nurses the young into

maturity; in this case, it is the female who must stifle these twin

brothers while they are yet in their infancy, so that they may never

reach their dangerous maturity.

Luxury carried beyond a reasonable degree of comfort vitiates human

strength and thus enervates both body and mind; then temporary

stimulation and relief are sought in the excitements of sensuality.

By sensuality, I understand all indulgences which carry to excess the

natural physical appetites. Man, with his greater physical force, is

the aggressive element in this strife for gratification, and woman

with her slighter physique, the passive.

If we first make these points clear to ourselves, it will be easy to

make them clear to others and to show to every woman the necessity

of being on the defensive against these twin brothers, Luxury and

Sensuality. All history teaches us that they have been the destroyers

of nations in ancient times. Let us not deem that we are proof against

their omnipotence. The defensive weapon can be none other than a code

of morals as high and as idealistic as our present state of education

and development will produce.

Further, this code ought to be in accordance with the political form

of life in our country. We cannot afford to imitate any other people,

any other nation. The women of this continent, and especially of the

United States, enjoy a place in social life such as no women of any

nation ever held before, or hold now. They can have all the power they

want if they will simply take it, and if they will make themselves

equal to all the responsibilities such a power involves.

Especially do I wish to speak of a danger to be avoided. We need to

create and to foster among women a realizing sense that we _are all

alike_ and that the _worst_ women belong to _us_ as much

as do the best. We cannot feel proud of the virtues and talents of one

woman without feeling an equal degree of shame at the vices and the

degradation of another.

There is no _third sex_; and we must see to it that this

feeling--I cannot call it an opinion--that there exists a class of

_animal women_, shall never take root in this country. In order

to effect this, we must create a code of morals in accordance with our

free institutions. Never should we look across the ocean for a guiding

rod. Nowhere has woman been so poetized and so idealized, nowhere have

music and the plastic arts so celebrated her as on the continent of

Europe--yet everywhere there woman can be bought! She is legalized

merchandise, and is inspected as such for the purpose of purchase,

_which is prostitution_.

Among the nobility and the aristocracy the men hold it below their

dignity and honor to be traders or even merchants because they

consider that all commercial enterprise tends to make men mercenary,

so lowering their character. Yet these same men do not hesitate to

purchase women; while the aristocratic and noble lady thinks it right

and just that there should be a special class of women for this

purpose.

This is no exaggerated statement; it is a fact that women of

education and of high standing speak of a certain class of women as

if there were a third sex--a creature resembling woman in all outward

appearance but sterile in propagation, sterile in morals, and sterile

in intellectual capacity, a slave to men, and a creature of contempt

in the eyes of women.

The word by which these women are designated when spoken of is

“creature.” In Europe, in common conversation and in everyday

literature, this word “creature” has become a legitimatized

designation for prostitutes. It is therefore deplorable to hear women

in their superior position as employers speak thoughtlessly of honest,

virtuous women--their nurses, seamstresses, servants and the like--as

“these creatures.”

I say, therefore, that one of the laws of our moral code should be,

“Respect the _woman_ in every woman.”

This respect for all womankind leads us to consider next the moral

relations to children. The highest ideal code cannot be too high here,

and example should take precedence of teaching.

I would advise a whole code, explanatory of modesty, purity, chastity,

truthfulness, obedience, self-denial, and self-control, clearly to be

comprehended and strictly to be practiced by every woman--married and

unmarried, mothers and grandmothers--so that example shall teach the

virtues to the boy as well as to the girl.

Moral precepts and admonitions, repeated daily in words are listened

to with indifference; but from a living example are drawn good

draughts of healthful moral strength. For instance, speak before a

boy, no matter how small (in fact, the smaller the more dangerous),

with contempt of a woman, and you may be sure the seed of contempt

toward all womanhood is sown and will grow and mature and bear fruit

for another generation. The same is true if, in the hearing of girls,

contempt for men is expressed; yet here the effect is less bad for, as

I said before, the girl is the passive, not the aggressive, element in

nature.

Next, we need a moral code in relation to men. Here, the first

principle should be, what is wrong in woman is wrong in man. There

is no special right for the man. Although we cannot demonstrate an

absolute Right, yet the Golden Rule will always serve as a test where

there is doubt. Men are born as pure and innocent and good as women.

_We develop_ qualities in them from a false conception of the

aggressive impulses inherent in the masculine constitution. This

is the point which we must bear in mind--man is not willfully nor

intentionally vicious; but we allow him to practice a pernicious code

of morals from early childhood, when we begin to say, “Oh, a boy will

be a boy.”

Of course, we want a man to be a man, but we also want a woman to

be a woman. And we cannot make any advance toward the standard of a

true man and a true woman if we give one set of morals to the man and

another to the woman. Our constitution should be alike for both sexes,

although from natural causes some of the by-laws must differ. This is

the only way by which we can establish such relations of men to women

and of women to men as shall be honorable to both and elevating to

mankind in general.

Let us now consider the last but not the least point in our code of

morals, that which concerns our relation to the State. This is, of

course, the broadest and the most comprehensive theme with which moral

education has to deal. Here again we shall see that we have our own

code to make. For by “State” we mean in this country a different thing

from that which Europe so designates. We do not mean a government

given to a people by an aristocracy established centuries ago. We must

learn to understand that when we speak of “the State,” we mean the

voluntary association of a free people which governs itself through

and by the individual exercise of both intellectual and physical

powers. Hence, there arises at once the need of a full comprehension

of our duties as members of such a State.

These duties are of two kinds--the duty of the normally endowed

members (those having moderate or superior physical and mental

qualities) toward each other; and, secondly, the duty of this

fortunate class toward the less favored--the weak, the feeble in mind

or in body and the crippled--those born or later afflicted with less

capacity to take up the struggle for existence. We have all seen

how the man born rich may become poor; and on the other hand, how

the child born a pauper may yet lift himself to the position of the

millionaire or to the highest office.

Here, then, lies our duty. Especially must we women educate ourselves

and the young in regard to our relations to all humanity--particularly

to the suffering, to the frail, and to the poor near our own doors. We

have to create a code of morals strong enough to be just toward all

the unfortunate--men, women and children; yet it must be free from

that sentimentalism which cannot discriminate between an honest poor

person and a criminal. On this point, endless illustrations could be

given to show our lack of moral education. How difficult it is to

preserve the righteous balance without being harsh to the criminal,

the drunkard and the female vagrant! We have this great lesson to

learn--that the poorest, the lowest, even the most degraded, when

honestly striving to keep out of the almshouse or the prison, stands

far higher in the scale of humanity than the reformed or the reforming

prisoner; and that justice ought first to be done toward these poor

degraded ones before sentimental charity is bestowed upon the criminal.

For here comes another part of this code as regards the State. What

is charity? What is benevolence? What is the best way for their

application? What is justice?

I would advise that all the members of this Moral Education

Association, and nonmembers too, form classes where these subjects

may be discussed, not simply where morality is preached to the moral,

but where we enlighten ourselves by an interchange of opinion and by

faithful investigation of moral questions. We need to know what is the

real moral requirement in our peculiar state of American society.

We are a State which has not been produced by propagation of one and

the same race, so we have thus formed a nation with its own peculiar

characteristics. We are an aggregate in a free country of many races

and of many nations, a country where it is possible for the slave to

step at once into self-sovereignty, or for the pauper from any foreign

race to rise in a few years to the position of a well-to-do trader or

merchant or artist, according to the intellectual capacity which he

possesses. On the other hand, even with us these people may go down

and form the center of a proletarianism unless they are prevented by

education both of the intellect and of the morals.

A similar opportuneness characterizes her answer to the question which

continues to be asked to-day as it has been asked down the ages:

SHOULD WOMEN STUDY MEDICINE?

So many women, both young and of mature age, appeal to me for

information concerning the profession of medicine that I have thought

it desirable to express my opinion thus publicly. The principal points

inquired about are How to study medicine? and What are the prospects

in practice?

There are so many medical schools now open to women, both in the

East and in the West, that the selection of one for the purpose of

study need depend only upon individual convenience and the pecuniary

resources of the student. A student needs to have means for her

support during three full years of college life and, if possible, for

an additional year’s residence in some hospital before entering upon

practice.

Next comes the question, What can she expect in practice? Many young

women enter the profession because it seems to them a lucrative

business. Yet for a young person to choose this path in life because

she thinks it leads invariably to success--by which she means a

plentiful purse--is a mistake.

Success in the practice of medicine may coexist with small pecuniary

gains; the money gain should be incidental, not primary, in the

thought of the physician. A well-educated physician, who has passed

through the regular course of study and who conscientiously works

within the legitimate sphere of her knowledge, must allow about ten

years of indefatigable labor before her practice brings a competency

worthy the name of independence, by which I mean a comfortable living

free from the anxieties of petty economies and allowing occasional

relaxations from duty. Many a young woman has gone out of my office

excited and indignant because I have expressed doubt that the medical

profession would be the best career for her to choose, and her final

exclamation as she left me is very significant, “You have been

successful; why should not I be so?”

This “why not” is just the hard point to explain. On April 5, 1888,

it was just thirty-six years since I began to seek practice.

Young (twenty-two and one-half years old), full of enthusiasm and

self-reliance, willing to work, ready for self-abnegation in every

direction, I felt sure that I should succeed in life, but this success

never presented itself before my mind in the shape of a plentiful

purse.

Besides the moral qualities I have mentioned, I started with another

great advantage, namely, a good physical constitution. In no

profession is sound steady health so requisite as in the medical, for

the practitioner must be ready night and day, and at the beck and call

of patients--whether paying or charity. Thus this profession demands

a body free from annoyances of all kinds and a clear, sound head, to

enable one to be decisive in judgment, firm in advice, and kind in

sympathy.

Another step in the ladder of success is a good business training from

early youth. By this I mean correctness in listening to every word

spoken, accuracy of observation, and logical deduction. Every faculty

must be, as it were, on the alert and yet kept under the control of

judgment.

Yet there may be sound health, good education, and carefully trained

faculties, and still a something lacking for success in life as

physician. I call it a power of adaptation to the various temperaments

and conditions of humanity; a moral courage; an ability to step

forward and seek opportunities for practice; a kind of self-confidence

and fearlessness in entering every class of life.

Thus equipped, and backed by friends or pecuniary means to sustain

the respectability of the beginner during the first few years of

her attempts to seek practice, a young woman has still to overcome

prejudices and obstacles which are not easily described, for they are

of an intangible nature, relating sometimes to personal appearance

and oftener to that indefinable quality--tact.

Yet notwithstanding all these difficulties, it is far easier to-day

for a woman to establish herself as physician than it was thirty

years ago. The annoyance and tribulations which we pioneers had to

endure were far greater than the natural ones which have always to

be overcome. For women physicians were then looked upon not only as

intruders upon the field hitherto occupied by men alone, but also as

disreputable persons and they were constantly confounded with the

women who, prefixing “Dr.” to their names, carried on a foul and

illegal practice.

So great was the prejudice against the first women physicians that

friends and acquaintances hesitated to invite them into their social

circles. Yet in spite of this hostility, I was inclined to encourage

other women to study medicine; for, inexperienced like all young

people and more enthusiastic than most, I imagined that every one who

expressed a desire for some active work was as willing and as well

prepared to undergo hardships and privations as I myself was. Years

have made me wiser and, consequently, more cautious in advising these

young seekers.

Every physician, man or woman, who has acquired prominence through

ability, finds himself or herself placed in the position of adviser

to youth. No one claims infallibility in judgment; great talent is

not always recognizable to the wisest counselor; but the duty is the

same for all--a conscientious statement of what the medical profession

demands. Its difficulties and the various obstacles should be stated

clearly to the young man or woman who is so often dazzled by the

brilliant success of the few, forgetting the many who are plodding

along in economical, modest paths or have retired entirely, and who

are therefore unknown.

Yet while I have thus shown the darker side, I can see that the study

of medicine is full of opportunities for women, and that there are so

many ways of becoming useful, if not as practitioners then as teachers

and resident physicians in female schools and colleges, that no

truly talented woman need fear want of success in some branch of the

profession.--_The Woman’s Journal, June 23, 1888._

Less weighty but not less serious, and again as though a response to

another question which is agitating us to-day, is the following article

reprinted from _The Woman’s Journal_ of April 5, 1890:

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

It may be true that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

But even Shakespeare does not convince us that a Montague would

not still be a Montague though called by another name. No, the

name becomes a part of the individuality. A name has two distinct

qualities--the lighter, social and emotional; and the graver, legal

and representative. Pet names denote affection and are usually applied

to infants as expressive of their helplessness or diminutiveness in

contrast to our superiority to their small persons. The continued use

of these pet names when their bearers fill active and responsible

positions in life, indicates thoughtlessness if not real inferiority

of intellect.

To explain my meaning fully, I will illustrate from my own experience

both conditions--the social and the legal value of names. Quite

recently I was asked whether I knew a Dr. Carrie S----, of ----town,

whom the inquirer wished to consult on arriving there. Instinctively

I replied that I should not care to know a “Dr. Carrie” or “Hattie”

or “Maggie,” etc., and I certainly would not ask the advice of any

physician who had not more sense than to advertise herself by sign

or word as a diminutive person. How can a woman think deeply on any

subject who has not brains enough to object to such pet names?

A short time ago, a friend who was visiting me handed me two letters

to be posted. One was addressed “Mr. C. Albert ----” and the other,

“Miss Nellie ----.” Glancing at the addresses, I remarked, “I thought

your son’s name was Bert as I have always heard him called so, and why

has your sister changed her name from Ellen?” This sister was then

forty years old and had been teacher to her sister’s sons who lived in

the country where there was a lack of schools suitable to prepare lads

for the Latin school. Yet my friend said in reply to my remark, “No,

my son’s name is Albert and we called him Bert or Bertie, but since

he entered Harvard College, he has forbidden our using those names,

because,” she added, “boys, you know, have more pride than girls. My

sister likes to be addressed as Nellie.” Thus the teacher, twenty-two

years older than her nephew, was denoted by spoken and written word

“a girl” without “pride.” I wish all girls and women would comprehend

this fact--that as long as they are pleased with a diminutive name, so

long will they be classed in the category of diminutive human beings.

Again, consider the ludicrous side. Here enters a woman twenty years

old, six feet tall, addressed as Maggie. Now, must such a woman

reach a height of eighteen feet before she attains the dignity of

“Margaret”--that is, the name of a full-grown woman?

I once had under my medical care a girl whose face was greatly

disfigured by an eruption. She had a dark complexion and dark hair,

yet her name was Lily. When a little more than fourteen years old,

she came to me, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh,” she said, “I

have found out that my real name is Lucy; I was called so for an aunt

who died last week and who left me one thousand dollars in her will

because I am her namesake. I cried for joy, not about the money,

but because I have got rid of that horrid name of Lily.” Seeing my

astonishment at her excitement, she added, “You do not know how I

have suffered from my schoolmates; they nicknamed me Tiger Lily on

account of my face, and now, see, Lily was only a pet name; it is not

my real name!” Her mind was relieved, she was at ease and happy to

assert her dignity by an appropriate name. She soon recovered from the

torment of the eruption, and I have no doubt that the mental relief

of having a sensible name aided in her recovery. Again, how would a

woman with the dignified name of Margaret feel if she read in the

newspaper the notice of her marriage with “Tommy” Smith? A certain

amount of etiquette is essential in life--it gives weight and dignity

to everyday occurrences, and is, as it were, an expression of a sense

of social responsibilities.

The second question is the legal and representative quality. To

understand the full importance of this, let us recall the fact that

throughout the whole civilized globe, it is customary to give to the

child the father’s name. It is not necessary to discuss here whether

it would be better to change this custom and give to the child the

name of both father and mother. The fact is established that the

child receives a personal name prefixed to that of the family of

which it is the offspring. By this latter name it becomes known, and

in the course of years this name becomes a part of the individual,

belongs to the character itself, and can no more be got rid of than

the blood which flows in the veins and had its origin in the parents.

It is a rare thing for a man to admit even the thought of changing his

name; if it were Smith, he is and remains Smith, simply denoting his

individuality by the prefix _A_, _B_, _C_, or whatever

the initial may be. He cannot be addressed by any other name, and he

can receipt bills and sign legal papers by no other name without being

considered guilty of misrepresentation.

The importance of this individuality of name is nowhere better

recognized than in Germany. A girl named at birth Anna Eleanora Miller

is and remains Anna Eleanora Miller all her lifetime, no matter

whether she marries once or six times in the course of her career. By

no other name can she sign a deed or contract; thus only can she bear

witness; and she is not summoned by the courts as witness under any

other name than that of Anna Eleanora Miller.

If she has a husband, she is addressed in law by her name, Anna

Eleanora (or, if she has ten given names, then by all of them) Miller,

wife of Brown, or wife of Baron Ketzow, or von Alden. If she becomes

a widow and marries again, she is addressed in law (of course not in

social intercourse) as Anna Eleanora Miller, widow of Brown, wife of

Baron von Ketzow.

To make this clearer, let me illustrate still further by giving the

name of a well-known lady who, after she became a widow, studied

medicine and now practices dentistry in Berlin, having been dentist

to all the children of the Empress Friedrich. Her diploma would be

utterly valueless had it been given to her with the name of her

first husband; only by her maiden name could she be authorized as a

practitioner. Her sign at the door reads, “Dr. Henriette Pagelson,

widow of Hirschfeld, wife of Tiburtius,” she having, after a few

years of practice, contracted a marriage with Dr. Tiburtius. Thus she

is, and remains, Henriette Pagelson, and by this name only is she

professionally and legally responsible; this stamps her individuality,

and the other names of Mrs. Hirschfeld and Mrs. Tiburtius become

merely social and conventional designations.

The question of changing names will and ought to become of grave

importance before the law in this country. As we now have women

lawyers, it should be their special charge to bring up at once this

neglected matter--the question of the legality of diplomas as regards

the names thereon--before the legislatures in their respective states.

Let me suppose a case in order to show the gravity of this subject.

A young woman who has studied medicine receives a diploma under the

name of Anna Elizabeth Brown. In a few years she marries, removes the

sign from her door and puts up a new one reading “Dr. A. E. Stone.”

Soon after this she has to sign a death certificate, which she does

by writing “Anna Elizabeth Stone, M.D.” Such a document has no legal

truth in it. Again, suppose the relatives of a patient sue this doctor

for malpractice, cannot the lawyer make a good case from the fact

that her diploma certifies to the ability of “Anna E. Brown,” and

that a “Dr. Stone” does not exist? Does not this create a flaw or an

irregularity in the indictment executed by the complainants? Still

further, the husband “Stone” dies, and in a year the widow marries

McIntosh and again changes sign and signature to “Dr. A. E. McIntosh,”

while no diploma, and therefore no such doctor of that name exists,

but only the original “Anna Elizabeth Brown, M.D.”

What is thus true in the medical profession is true in commercial

pursuits and in all professions. Annoyances also arise in social

relations. A short time ago, I was asked if I knew a Dr. Alice

Smith of a certain city, she having referred to me for professional

recommendation. I at once declared the woman to be a fraud. A few

months later, Dr. Alice Smith, having been informed of my not very

complimentary appellation, sent me a letter expressive of much injured

feeling. In this letter, she gave her maiden name under which she had

served as interne in our New England Hospital where we had valued her

as one of our best assistants.

Now, if men cannot see the importance of this demand for a settlement

of the question of women’s names, I wish that our women lawyers would

bring the subject before the legislatures, requesting some decision on

the legal qualifications as to names for any professional or business

relation of women, whether they are single, married or widowed. If the

woman cannot call her name her own and will not drop the diminutive

pet name, she does not deserve to be considered a full human being.

Let me be understood--I do not mean to say that in social life a

woman should not accept the name of her husband. I do not desire to

overturn existing customs, and I think it is far more sensible to

be “Mrs. Smith” in common social life than to be “Dr. Brown,” which

may be the title on the diploma, but all this could easily be left

to personal decision. Princess Louise of England will not be called

Marchioness of Lorne. Baroness von Essmarsch prefers to be called Frau

Doctor (having married Dr. von Essmarsch), and objects to the title

of Princess Mecklenberg to which she is entitled, and by which she is

addressed, as aunt of the present Empress of Germany. Here love casts

aside all titles; nevertheless, it is only as Princess Mecklenberg

that she can legally be addressed, or legally be empowered to sell or

to give away even a few feet of land. The only signature valid in law

is “Princess Mecklenberg, wife of Dr. von Essmarsch.”

Throughout Europe, the women in all classes cling more closely to

their family names than we do. On visiting cards, one commonly sees

“Mrs. Brown, _née_ Miller.” If one wishes to be specially

respectful, one addresses in the same way, mentioning both names, the

envelope which incloses even a friendly letter to a married woman.

And, finally, on the gravestone placed above a deceased married woman,

the maiden name is always conspicuously inscribed before the married

name.

CHAPTER XXXVII

_Opening of the Medical School of the Johns Hopkins University to

women on equal terms with men--Consultations with Dr. Zakrzewska by

women interested in the event--Her report of the attitude of the

community towards women surgeons--New building for the Maternity

Department of the Hospital (the Sewall Maternity and, later, the Helen

Morton Wing)--Opening of the Goddard Home for Nurses--Because of

misbehavior of men students, Columbia University of Georgetown closes

its doors to women--Dr. Zakrzewska writes on “the Emancipation of

Woman: Will it be a Success?” (1888-1894.)_

These were eventful days (1888-1890) for all friends of the advancement

of the medical education of women, leading up as they did to the

opening to women of the medical school of the Johns Hopkins University

in 1890.

The same fear of beguilement and subsequent disillusionment which Dr.

Zakrzewska had felt regarding the proposed opening to women of the

Medical School of Harvard University, away back at the time when the

future of the New England Female Medical College hung in the balance,

haunted the minds of all workers for the cause of medical women.

So many colleges had been opened to women and had then been closed to

them, in response to the storm raised by one or another protesting

group, that experience had made women feel they must always be on their

guard.

One of the prominent women of Worcester wrote to Dr. Zakrzewska in 1890:

Our Women’s Club has been urged to contribute to assist the Medical

School of the Johns Hopkins University, with the idea that women shall

have there all the advantages which men have, and as I have seen your

name with other well-known names, I desire to ask if you really think

that they will act in good faith if the $100,000 should be given them.

We are told by parties in Baltimore who ought to know that the whole

policy of Johns Hopkins is conservative in spite of its high rank, and

that women would never be admitted on the same terms as men.

As one of an investigating committee, I am to report on October 22d.

Will you be so kind as to tell me what you think of the scheme? If

the money is raised and offered on condition that women shall be so

received, we are told that it will be refused. In that case, it would

not seem worth while to give anything towards it.

This must be a matter which would greatly interest you, and I venture

to hope that you will find a moment to reply.

In the course of her correspondence with Dr. Zakrzewska, a leading

woman of Baltimore who was one of those foremost in the present

movement, writes:

I will bear your cautions in mind and watch very carefully. I myself

have not much confidence in the willingness of many men to give

women a fair chance, but since out of the four women who began this

movement, three of them have fathers on the two boards who are deeply

convinced of the righteousness of the cause, I cannot help feeling

hopeful. Moreover, the physicians at the Hospital have been most

cordial and helpful to every well-qualified woman who has sought its

advantages.

I inclose a copy of the trustees’ resolutions. I do not see how,

although they reserve the right of making “such rules and regulations

as they may deem necessary for the government of its School of

Medicine,” they can possibly ignore the paragraph that “in making

such rules and regulations, the terms of this minute shall always be

respected and observed”--and these terms we insisted should be _the

same_, not equal.

However, I agree with you that we must watch carefully, and if there

should ever be a sign of trying to evade it you may depend on us to

fight it out.

It is interesting to note that half of the $100,000 was given by one

woman, Miss Mary Garrett, daughter of one of the original trustees of

the Johns Hopkins University. Also, that the $10,000 previously offered

by Miss Hovey to Harvard, on condition of its admitting women and which

was declined by its medical faculty, was transferred to the Johns

Hopkins.

When, in 1888, Dr. Zakrzewska and her two earliest co-workers on

the Hospital staff, Drs. Sewall and Morton, resigned as attending

physicians and became advisory physicians, Dr. Sewall had in the state

of her health an additional reason for relinquishing her arduous

duties. And Dr. Zakrzewska suffered keenly during the next few years in

realizing the approaching loss of this particularly dear colleague,

who had always been to her as her own child though her junior by only a

few years. Dr. Sewall died in February, 1890.

At the annual meeting at the close of the Hospital year, 1890, Dr.

Zakrzewska again was called upon to present the report from the

resident physician--this position being temporarily vacant.

Referring especially to the increasing work of the Hospital under women

surgeons, she says:

The results thus far are so satisfactory that no other hospital can

show a greater percentage of recoveries. Our reputation for successful

operations increases; and the request is often made by patients that

no men shall be present.

An old lady of seventy-nine years, the prolongation of whose life

depended upon the immediate removal of a large ovarian tumor--an

accidental fall having caused inflammation--insisted upon having

even no consultation with men, nor any men present at the operation,

saying, “I am old enough anyway to die, only I don’t want to suffer

as I do now; and if the women can save my life for a while longer, I

shall be grateful.” She was saved, and went home well in just four

weeks from the day of operation.

Another change has come with this advance in the medical women’s

world. Women now express the strongest confidence in women’s skill,

entirely refuting the fears and opinions of former years that “women

would never have confidence in their own sex.” The opposite condition

has now become so manifest that when in a first consultation a patient

decides at once and unreservedly to employ a woman surgeon, we are

frequently obliged to remind her that her friends or her family may

prefer to have a man perform the operation.

A patient was brought into my office from the carriage before the

door. She seemed so weak and exhausted that I did not venture to

speak frankly to her but called the friends into an outer room and

informed them of the need of the removal of a large abdominal tumor

without delay. After a short deliberation, they considered it best

for me to inform the patient. I did so. A few moments of silence

ensued, and then came the response, “Where can it be done? Will you do

it?” Answering the latter question in the negative and the former by

proposing our Hospital, she replied, “Well, take me there and I will

have it done to-morrow.”

We did take her there, but the case was too grave for an operation

on the morrow as important preparations were necessary. But in a few

months the patient left the Hospital well, and when a half year later

she came into my office, I did not recognize the changed woman.

Such cases are not infrequent now, and the gratitude of many a mother,

wife, and daughter spreads throughout our land the fame of our

Hospital, the skill of our surgeons, and the kindness of our nurses.

The number of women surgeons is but few as yet, but I do not care to

compete numerically with men. I simply repeat the claim which I made

thirty-five years ago when pleading the cause of women physicians,

namely, give to women whose qualifications and tastes lead them to

study the healing art, the opportunity to develop such talents to the

utmost on an equality with men.

It is due to the perseverance of woman’s nature and to the freedom

of this country that such comparatively great results have been

achieved in so few years. I, who saw at most a possibility in the

dim future, am permitted to behold an idea realized--an idea for the

materialization of which I expected simply to plow the ground before

I passed away from this life, leaving it for others to cultivate. But

see! Already, under the sunshine of free institutions and the favoring

breezes of universal progress, we reap the fruits of our labor.

In June, 1892, a new Maternity Building was completed and dedicated.

It was named the Sewall Maternity, in memory of that early and devoted

friend of Dr. Zakrzewska and the Hospital, Hon. Samuel E. Sewall,

and of his daughter, Dr. Lucy E. Sewall, who was, successively, Dr.

Zakrzewska’s first student, assistant, and staff colleague.

The old Maternity was renovated and transformed into a home for the

nurses, and it served this purpose until replaced by a new building in

1909. It was named the Goddard Home for Nurses in honor of the Goddard

family--Miss Lucy Goddard, one of the incorporators of the Hospital and

first president of the board of directors; George A. Goddard, for many

years the devoted treasurer of the Hospital; and his mother, Mrs. M. Le

B. Goddard, one of the earlier directors.

Some years later (1906), a wing was added to the Sewall Maternity,

the Helen Morton Wing. This was named in honor of Dr. Helen Morton,

classmate of Dr. Sewall and Dr. Zakrzewska’s second student, assistant,

and staff colleague.

In the midst of the congratulations and rejoicings which followed the

opening to women of the Johns Hopkins Medical School, the distrust

which Dr. Zakrzewska had already voiced was, in 1893, given another

justification by the action of the Columbian University of Georgetown,

D. C. (now the George Washington University Medical School), which

decided to close the doors that it had opened to women.

For at least ten years the medical department had been graduating

women on equal terms with men. But there had always been three members

of the faculty who were bitterly opposed to allowing women to study

medicine on any terms. These three professors made the path of the

women students as rough and stony as possible; and the male students,

taking the cue from these professors, added discourtesies and affronts

to hostility.

Finally, in the dissecting room, some of these students so debased

themselves by offering insult, not only to the women medical students

but also to the helpless bodies of their fellow beings who had been

given to them for scientific study, that the faculty and trustees were

obliged to take official notice of the occurrence.

Now, mark the administration of justice. The male students committed

the offense which no one attempted to condone. Were the offenders

punished? No. Neither were the innocent victims of the offense, the

women medical students. But the whole sex of the innocent victims was

selected to make vicarious atonement. The verdict was that the women

then in the Medical School should be permitted to complete their

course, but after that no more women should be admitted to the school.

After this demonstration can any one doubt that the story of Adam and

Eve and the Garden of Eden has biologic foundation and, as the good

old books say, “is in the nature of man.” But we can rejoice that this

is a nature which man is steadily moving upward to modify and correct,

hence the increasing number of men who are willing to do justice to

women.

It remains to add that the trustees were said to have been almost

unanimous in their opposition to the exclusion of women but to have

been overborne by the financial control exerted by the three professors

mentioned.

The indignation of a large portion of the lay community was aroused

by the injustice thus done to women, and an appeal for advice was

made to Dr. Zakrzewska, whose views on such a situation have already

been stated. Fortunately, the Johns Hopkins Medical School is not far

removed from Washington.

The era of the “emancipation” of woman as an all-inclusive phrase had

not yet passed, though it was approaching its eclipse by more specific

terms. Using it as an antithesis of “oppression,” Dr. Zakrzewska writes

in _The Open Court_, June 21, 1894, on “The Emancipation of Woman:

Will it be a Success?”

This article was in reply to one on “The Oppression of Woman,”

evidently written by a man who voiced his protest against the

subjection from which women have suffered for so many centuries, and

who claimed for women freedom to develop along their own lines. His

plea was apparently similar to Tennyson’s when the latter sings:

... “Leave her space to burgeon out of all

Within her--let her make herself her own

To give or keep, to live and learn and be

All that not harms distinctive womanhood.

For woman is not undevelopt man,

But diverse.”

Perhaps, as is so often the case, an undercurrent of masculine

patronage had crept into the plea of the advocate. Or perhaps Dr.

Zakrzewska merely felt the weariness that comes to all normal grown-up

women when their normality and growth are commented upon as phenomena,

instead of being accepted as the thing to be expected. On a very

hot day, the chirr of even a friendly katydid may seem too obvious,

repeating (what should be) “an undisputed thing in such a solemn way.”

At any rate, she responds:

I admit that the writer of this article is right, positively right,

logically right, sentimentally right, to the end of these reasonings

which are lucid and clearly stated.

Then I ask, What is the value of this new point, this proving that the

evolution of woman’s activity cannot be otherwise than feminine? If

twice two make four, no exertion of either man or woman can make it

five. Let us leave it as a positive fact, and not worry when we see

any individual trying to prove that twice two make five.

Why are all these mental somersaults and caprioles in men’s writings

needed? Will their attempts at prophesying or illustrating the future

effects arising from the activity of a yet unknown quantity alter or

check the present phenomenal awakening of woman’s ambition?

Allow me to elucidate my meaning by a true story of what happened in

my native city, Berlin, about fifty years ago.

In a courtyard lived a poor family. The father was a locksmith by

trade. His eldest son, a boy of twelve, bright, industrious and smart,

spent all his time either in the schoolroom or in his father’s shop.

Not even on Sundays could this poor family enjoy rest but worked in

the dreary shop. The boy was very fond of eating string beans which

the mother could seldom afford to buy.

He therefore decided to raise them in a box before his window. He used

some old pieces of boards for the construction of his window-garden,

and all the inmates of the front as well as of the rear houses became

interested in his experiment, everybody feeling it to be his or her

duty to express opinions on the subject.

Thus it came to pass that the boy was told that the beans planted

would rot because the boards were not porous enough to allow air to

pass; that the soil in the box could not be regulated as regarded the

daily moisture needed; that the rain could not be discharged after

flooding the window garden; that the heat of the sun reflected from

the window glass would burn the tender growths; that not more than two

stalks of beans could be raised if the seed turned out to be dwarf

beans, and if pole beans, he could not fasten them high enough; that

no good growth could be expected if there were not a flow of air all

around to favor the plant; that the already dark room (this being

the only window) would be darkened too much by the growing plants

and thus the three children who slept in it would not awaken in time

for school, which commenced at seven o’clock; that the health of the

children would be injured by the exhalation of the plants and the

moisture of the earth in the box; that his mother should be warned not

to allow such an experiment as it would be a moral injury to the boy

when he found himself disappointed in the success of his plan, as the

most valuable of emotions--hope--would thus be destroyed; that the

father ought to realize that he would lose at least half an hour daily

of the boy’s help in the shop; in fact, all the arguments and all the

prophesying were that a complete failure would be the result and that

the boy would be crushed under the weight of it.

However, the boy prepared his box, took note of the many suggestions

and obviated some of them, as by perforating his box with small holes,

by opening the windows when the sun shone from ten in the morning to

three in the afternoon, etc.

The twelve beans which he had planted grew and proved to be pole

beans, so he tied strings for them to climb up on as high as the

tenant above his room allowed him to do. He watered and nursed his

plantation with care and love, and lo and behold, the beans flourished

and blossomed and bore fruit relatively plentifully.

During this time of growth, an old and wise tenant of the front house,

also a professor, joined the group who for eight weeks had watched

and discussed in the yard this willful boy’s experiment. This critic

remarked that he observed a new phase of which nobody had thus far

taken notice and which might have both good and bad effects, namely,

that a hailstorm might yet come and destroy this garden, although

there might also be a good result as the plants would protect the

window panes if the storm should occur when the windows were closed.

All admitted that this was true, and all admired the wisdom of the

Herr Professor, and went to their respective abodes a little mortified

that they had not thought before of this neglected point of the

subject.

The boy had the satisfaction of gathering a mess of well-grown beans,

sufficient for a hearty meal for the whole family. But while eating

his favorite dish, he said, “Well, mother, I did succeed; but to tell

the truth, the beans don’t taste so good as those which grow in the

fields. So next year, I will not try again but I shall sow nasturtium

seeds for you to enjoy.”

He did so, and his window was a perfect delight and source of cheer

to him, to his mother, and to the tenants of the little court. He

continued to do this until he had to enter the army, at eighteen years

of age. His younger brothers (he had no sisters) followed in his

footsteps, and when I left Berlin my last look was at the nasturtium

window.

Let me ask, did it matter much which the boy raised, beans or

nasturtiums? What use was it to him, or to his family, or to the

tenants when the latter all joined in the chorus, “I thought so” or “I

told him he could not raise beans”? Let each one try nature’s forces

and take his chance! And twice two will always remain four.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

_Dr. Zakrzewska’s own description of her attitude as a critic--Her

judgments on various details of Hospital policy: Against the admission

to the Hospital of women students of the Boston University Medical

School (that being then a school of homeopathy); On the reciprocal

relation of the medical staff and the board of directors of the

Hospital; On a question of Hospital discipline; Letter to an ambitious

colleague whose feelings have been hurt._

Matters of Hospital policy were continually being referred to her for

decision. Before noting details, it will be illuminating to read what

she says as to her mental attitude when making criticisms:

If I praise, it is hardly ever the person or the relation in

which this person stands to me of which I think--it is simply the

praiseworthy thing or deed which I eulogize.

These very same persons may do or say something which, according to my

comprehension, is not praiseworthy but the contrary, and I criticize

and blame just as strongly as I praised before when many did not see

the praiseworthiness until I drew attention to it.

For the praise, I receive thanks, for human nature likes far better to

hear agreeable things than disagreeable ones.

For the blame, where I pointed out the fault, I receive double

reproach, for human nature likes to defend, it is vexed because

its attention has been drawn to the fact of imperfection and its

displeasure tends to fall upon the person who points out this

imperfection.

I am fully aware that gratitude and warm friendships are easily

gained by speaking well of everything and everybody. Hence it is that

secondary, yes, even very mediocre, talents receive a certain amount

of fame and appreciation by the multitude.

But to a true nature such kind of appreciation is humbling; and

that, too, in just such a degree as to him or her, praise or blame,

appreciation or censure, are equally sacred. One who is satisfied with

the recognition of the few can calmly wait till the multitude find out

for themselves how much of the seed sown among them will grow.

Therefore, when I mention names to you, pray do not believe I speak

of them because they are either friends or foes to me, or that I wish

either to please or to hurt. Both are far from me--I do not care to

please, nor do I want to hurt, anybody.

In answer to a proposal in earlier years to admit to the New England

Hospital the women students of the Medical Department of the Boston

University (then a school of homeopathy), she decided in the negative.

In this connection, she says:

It is my opinion that if we do not intend to lower our aims or to

descend from the position which we have taken and which we should

uphold, we cannot form any connection, through the admission of its

students to our Hospital, with a school which holds itself strictly

sectarian and which claims a one-sided knowledge--a faith in medicine

which has no warrant, and an advancement in science which neither

here in America nor abroad is approved by natural scientists, by

chemists, or by microscopists. And which in reality possesses no sound

foundation other than that which exists in all new ideas, namely,

that of experiment. But this experiment is just as permissible to the

regular practitioner who is educated on the broadest terms and who has

a perfect right to administer any remedy for the restoration of health.

In stating this opinion, to which I have given thoughtful

consideration, I regret personally that I thus exclude women of a

school with which I agree as to the great principle of equality in

education of the sexes.

At one time, there seemed to be in the minds of some of the later

members a question as to the reciprocal relation of the medical staff

and the board of directors. On this occasion, she writes:

Our Hospital is utterly different from all hospitals carried on by the

City or the State or by private individuals and endowments.

In these latter there exists either a need to provide for the

helpless who are dependent on the Commonwealth, or benevolent persons

wish to provide a charity and so they establish hospitals. In both

conditions, the staff of physicians is employed by those who manage

the institutions and, consequently, either money or thanks are due to

such physicians as serve.

With us, it is entirely different. None of our original directors

wanted a hospital; none of them was inspired by charity or had the

means to provide such charity. I, the representative of an idea in its

earliest evolution--I sought those Directors that they might serve

the purpose of carrying out that idea.

They served then and in the future the women physicians connected with

the Hospital. They never dictated as to the number of physicians or

internes; they never proposed to enlarge the work; this has always

been done by the professional staff. _We_ thank _them_ for

their generous aid, but they cannot thank us for doing much or little.

Of course, the Directors are the corporate body, and they represent

us legally before the public; but they carry out our ideas, not we

theirs. They simply stand ready to support the principle of giving to

women physicians full opportunity to manifest their skill and judgment.

In this connection it is interesting to refer to a letter regarding

another matter, which Mrs. Cheney wrote to Dr. Zakrzewska in 1888. Mrs.

Cheney says:

I hope you will not think me ungrateful for your inestimable frank

criticism, which has been one of the greatest helps in my life even

if I cannot adopt all your suggestions, as I must speak my own

language--but I am most thankful for the matter you have supplied.

I never know what to say about my relation to the Hospital work. It is

not to me what it is to you.... I accepted it as blessed work ... and

have thanked you all my life for bringing it to me, but it has never

been mine as it is yours.

Other aspects of her mind appear in connection with special

experiences, as when she writes to one of the other doctors regarding

a question of hospital discipline:

MY DEAR DOCTOR:

I enclose the letter you handed to me and one from Dr. ----. Allow

me to tell you how I have managed such letters. I have had precisely

three similar experiences. Dr. ----’s patients left in the same way as

Mrs. ----, and to this day their relatives are not satisfied that the

patients were treated rightly. Still, they are good friends with me in

spite of my having acted as I did. This was what I did.

When I received the first letter, I said to myself:

1. There are always two sides to every story.

2. I cannot act at all if I keep this letter secret, as I am requested

to do.

3. If there is an accusation, I must have the excuse unless I want to

ignore the whole concern and burn the letter.

4. I will not talk, so as not to run the risk of losing my temper.

Therefore, I sat down, wrote a note to the doctor and enclosed the

letter of accusation, but requested her not to let either the patient

or the student know about it but to tell me what she thought was best

to be done.

Now this action seemed right to me, because

1. I investigated the other side.

2. I tried to put things to rights.

3. I gave a chance for explanations.

4. I could not become impatient, because both parties are always more

careful when things are put on paper.

After I received the doctor’s reply, I took the letters, the patient

and the doctor into a private room, and informed them why and how

I had acted in the affair. Then I read both letters, and this was

followed by an apology on both sides and the matter was ended.

Then, although the patient left the Hospital, she could not say that

the doctor was not courteously treated by me. Nor could she say that

justice was not done to her.

After this, the doctor and I together had an interview with the

student, and we said as little or as much as was necessary to make her

more careful, and that was ended.

As it happened, Dr. ----’s patient was one of more education and she

saw that she was in the wrong, so she apologized and remained until

the doctor discharged her.

I don’t think that either you or I are the last authority on such

questions. They should be settled with all concerned in harmony and

even with polite treatment of the culprit, should there be one.

If you lose your temper with a coworker, it lowers you in the eyes of

patients or of others a great deal more than it hurts her. Everybody

feels with or for the punished one, and nobody with the one who

punishes or condemns.

I find that in going through the wards now, all the patients feel

attached to the doctor and are full of her praise, and they hope she

will have a good time and come back to her arduous duties with her

usual strength, fine spirits and cheerfulness.

As soon as Dr. ---- comes home, we shall work out rules for the

physicians so that these will be ready for our next meeting. And if

they are then properly discussed, I think it might be a good plan

to have them printed in our report so that patients may learn their

extent and on whom they depend.

Again, one of the doctors was evidently suffering from a wounded

_amour propre_, feeling that she had not been treated with

sufficient consideration. She had apparently expressed her grievance

to Dr. Zakrzewska, and then being dissatisfied with the result of her

interview, had tried to express herself more definitely in a letter.

Dr. Zakrzewska replies:

MY DEAR DR. ----:

I will answer the last paragraph of your letter first, because this

is the straw which shows how the wind blows, and it also confirms my

impression concerning the cause of your manner. I have nothing to

forgive in your manner because, personally, you have never offended

me. I therefore have nothing to forget either.

But forgetting that we are colleagues and professional women

interested in the same work and in the same great cause where harmony

is so desirable, you seem to think, or rather you assert, that I

should remember your years and your condition of health, which is to

account for your speaking without thinking....

Now about your age, I never have thought of you as young even when

you were young. At the time we met, I recognized in the instant the

genuine talent and fervor of purpose of which you were possessed, and

I accepted you not as an inferior but as an equal.

Do you think that I could now make an attempt to throw the mature

woman from a past and from a place in my estimation which I let her

occupy when she was really a young girl of no experience? Would not

this be silly and mean? Do you admit that I am either, or both?

I always saw your weaknesses and faults as clearly as I see them now,

and I often spoke plainly of them to you, but I never, never thought

of putting you lower on account of them, because weaknesses we all

have, and I am glad to bear and forbear with these in people who have

something of worth to counterbalance, or else to place these faults

entirely in the background.

You say you wish to preserve an opinion of your own on all Hospital

matters. Who has ever wished more than I have that you would do this?

How often have I said to you when you wished to make changes and have

told me that you put these on me and my orders, that my shoulders were

broad enough to carry all, but that I thought you should do things

on your own authority as this seemed simply right. How often have I

referred to you as being a more efficient authority on those points

regarding which I thought you were.

And even when you did not agree with my propositions, when did you

ever hear that I complained? On the contrary, have I not the more

readily yielded and tried to investigate honestly which way would be

best? “Do as you please,” “suit yourself,” “work in your own way”--are

not these standing phrases which I have used to every physician?

I am ready to give up the Hospital work at any moment that you all

think you can do without me. I have no ambition to _work_ in

it; I had only the ambition to help women into the position where

_they_ could work. And this I have accomplished.

In New York I did well, and I am remembered in an honorable and

friendly way. And here in Boston I have certainly done my best. And

if there are now a hundred women who differ from me and a thousand

who know better than I do, I have nothing to say against it. On

the contrary, I am glad and happy about it because this is just the

condition which I strove for. My teachings have always been--you must

all do better, far better, than I have done, because you have far

better opportunities than I had. I helped to make those opportunities

and shame upon you if you do not come out better than your present

teacher.

No, no, my dear Doctor, it is not at all anything of this that is in

your manner. In some way you have got it into your head and heart that

you must play the first fiddle, or still better, be the conductor and

show your importance in every way, small and big. You want the incense

of having everybody look up to you as the most important person in the

concern; you like to patronize, and so on.

And I, to tell the truth, am very willing that you should have all

this pleasure because I do not care at all for these things. To me,

the answer to one of the great questions of the time is to assist

women into their right position whether or not they know me or my name

(which, luckily, is so hard that they won’t even take the trouble to

learn it).

Now, this will be the last time that I shall write on this subject.

There is no use in trying to make artificially a harmony which does

not any more come spontaneously. I am very willing, yes, even too

willing, to allow myself to be overruled, because I do not care at all

for the particular minutæ.

You know that I carried on the Hospital quite differently from Dr.

---- or Dr. ----, yes, even from what you did, but I never tried,

nor wanted to try, to interfere, because it is far better that each

individual should do her work in her individual way. Otherwise, it

must fail to be done well. Imitations are always inferior to the

genuine article. But agreeing to a thing is not always liking it.

As for my having wounded your feelings, this is possible--but I

daresay it was only in hospital matters when forced out by your

hostile manner. I hope I never was rude in my social relations, and if

I have been let me assure you that if you will tell me when and where

I was so, I will certainly beg your pardon.

CHAPTER XXXIX

_Dr. Zakrzewska’s private life--Her home--Her friends--Her keeping

in touch with the Hospital doctors, students and internes--Her

“boys”--Her ethics--Her reading--Men physicians who served as

consultants at the New England Hospital._

Concurrently with the public manifestations of Dr. Zakrzewska’s life,

as recorded in the preceding pages, proceeded her more intimate life

of home, family and friends. Allusions to these happy possessions have

been made from time to time, but a particular word should be given to

one feature which she brought with her from the old world to the new--a

feature which enriches life over there, and which would add so much to

our American life could we adopt it as generally and as simply.

Reference is here made to the custom of European people of all grades

of circumstance in incorporating the outdoors into the daily life of

the household, especially for the hour or moment of social relaxation.

Poor indeed the family that has not at least a tiny arbor, or shelter,

or shaded spot, where the glass of sirup or other beverage of the

country, or the cup of coffee or tea, or the incense of the friendly

pipe or the more exclusive cigar, draws the curtain upon the workaday

world and releases the spirit for a few moments’ dream of content.

“Rock Garden” was the name of her most blessed retreat--a large garden

with terraces and with the rocks for which Roxbury is famous. There

were trees and shrubs, fruits and flowers, tables and seats, and the

air was filled with memories of happy hours, hospitable days and

friendly meetings. And many groups of Hospital directors, doctors and

internes, as well as other friends, gathered there at various times,

carefree and festive.

“Rock Garden has always been the Garden of Paradise,” comes a voice

borne upon the breeze, “but wherever you are or wherever you make your

home, that place will soon be ideal to your friends.”

Dr. Buckel writes from the gardens of California, her thoughts turned

back to Rock Garden:

Oh, what has it not been! You know what it has been to you, but you do

not know how dear it is to other hearts. I almost feel as if it ought

to be set apart as a place sacred to friendship and to all the sweet

memories associated with it.

... Christmas at Rock Garden always comes to me as a beautiful memory

of generous hearts and joyous greetings. How plainly I can see

you holding up the packages and reading off the names in your own

inimitable manner, while the big stocking stands yearning to give up

its treasures.

And again:

... I always think of Rock Garden and the Christmas tree there and how

much I enjoyed it, and how dear are the memories. All the Heinzens,

Miss Sprague, Dr. Morton, the Prangs, Dr. Berlin, the Drs. Pope, and

others, are all fresh in my mind, and I send them kind greetings,

with love to Santa and your own dear self.

William Lloyd Garrison at one time described this home which Dr.

Zakrzewska had there created for herself and for the friends and

patients who were her paying guests. He said:

Dr. Zakrzewska was already settled in her attractive home in Cedar

Street, Roxbury, when, in 1864, my father moved to Highland Street

near by, and the two families became intimate. Although unmarried, the

Doctor rarely failed to have a house full of friends and relatives,

making of her home a social center for her German and American

acquaintances.

She was a woman of decided opinions and the frankest speech, a

circumstance which gave zest and animation to any group in which she

mingled. She held firmly to the conviction that personal consciousness

ends with death; that so-called spiritual communications are a

delusion, that prohibition laws infringe upon individual rights; that

homeopathy has no claim to science; and that armed resistance to

tyrants is justifiable.

My father held diametrically opposite views, but as both were

believers in the utmost freedom of speech, the social clash of arms

never engendered a moment’s ill feeling. They were closely united upon

the questions of anti-slavery and woman’s rights, and they were drawn

by a common impulse to progressive and philanthropic movements.

Karl Heinzen, who with his wife and son made a part of the Doctor’s

household, was a striking and remarkable figure. He was a man of

massive intellect, possessing a high reputation in Germany as a writer

of both prose and verse. His intense love of liberty and hatred

of shams had made him an exile in America in the tumultuous years

preceding the Civil War. He was of noble stature and frame, a spacious

temple for a great soul, his rugged face betraying his indomitable and

fearless character. Boston never realized the value or distinction of

this moral hero, for the reason that the English language was more

formidable to him than despots and monarchies. But in Dr. Zakrzewska

he had a friend who appreciated his noble talents and virtues.

... I have dwelt upon this conjunction of the Doctor with Karl Heinzen

because his influence upon her life was deep and abiding. To see him

working about the ample grounds, trimming the grapevines and attending

to the fruit trees--his recreation and pleasure--and, when the weather

permitted, to behold the afternoon table-gathering under the leafy

shade at the back of the grounds which rose above the house, was to

receive the impression of a bit of the Fatherland--a German grafting

on a Yankee hillside. The glimpse was often through or over the board

fence which separated my own house on the hilltop when, in 1868, I

became the Doctor’s closely adjacent neighbor. What animated talk

enlivened the coffee, and how many friends enjoyed first and last the

retirement and refreshment!

In the early days, sweet Mrs. Severance and her interesting family

lived also on Cedar Street; the Prangs were near at hand on Center

Street; the Koehlers and the Elsons were in the vicinity. The

beautiful suburb of Roxbury was then full of natural charm, an object

of interest to strangers visiting Boston and at that date untouched

and unspoiled.

I remember a traveled friend pointing down Cedar Street towards the

Doctor’s house and asking, “Have you ever been to Versailles?” adding,

“The arches of these glorious elms are a reminder of it.”

For many years Dr. Zakrzewska had a summer cottage at York Harbor but

it is of her busy city homes that her friends wrote most often.

One of the former internes writes to her in later days:

The year spent by me in the Hospital will always be remembered with

great pleasure, particularly that part of it when I was quarantined

at the Maternity and you used to ask me down to dinner at your house

nearly every evening.

She kept in touch with all the doctors and students who had been at

any time connected with the Hospital, if writing only at notable times

such as the big anniversaries or when some special report or Fair

souvenir was published. She always inquired how they were getting on,

and whether they received the annual reports of the Hospital which were

always sent to their latest address. And so she was kept informed of

their changing circumstances, their successes or discouragements, their

marriages, their husbands, their children, and their problems of many

kinds.

In beginning practice they had the varied fortunes which might be

expected from differing individualities, equipment, resources and

environment. Some found doors already opened to welcome them; some had

to make places for themselves. One of the latter group writes to her:

I am now doing very satisfactorily but I often think how prophetic

you were when you used to warn us, saying, “Five years of waiting and

starvation are before every one of you.”

Their addresses were scattered all over the world--over the United

States from Maine south to Florida and west to California; on the north

to Canada; and east and west to England, Scotland, France, Germany,

Switzerland, Italy, India,[23] Persia, Japan, China.

In keeping with the breadth of view which characterized her and her

director associates, no discrimination has ever been made at the New

England Hospital regarding sects, races or nationalities in students,

doctors, nurses or patients.

As we have already seen, Dr. Zakrzewska had always a large circle of

friends among the famous and high-minded men of her time, and her

influence with the men in the families of her patients has also been

noted.

It remains to add a word as to the number who were proud to call

themselves her “boys.” A specimen letter from one of these latter,

signed by a name well known in Boston, says:

DEAR DOCTOR:

As no person in the world outside of my own immediate family is dearer

to me than yourself, I want you to be one of the first to know of my

engagement to ---- ----, and I am sure you will approve of my choice.

Trusting that we may meet before long, I am as ever one of your boys.

She had no theologic affiliations. Her clear vision and her keen

reasoning powers were unsatisfied with any form of dogma, creed or

ritual yet elaborated. And she found these latter unnecessary to

the development of a rule of life which reconciled the untrammeled

intellect and the highest ethics yet evolved by an upward-struggling

humanity.

She was able to organize instinct, training, reason, observation,

experience and personal association, and to add to these the communion

with the great minds of the race which is to be derived from

reading--each continually checking up and correcting all the others. So

she developed a mind which she kept in a wholesome state of flux, ready

to modify any conclusion as new light rose above the horizon.

She held her course and steered her life as a skilled navigator holds

his course, who while he steers by compass and chart yet makes myriad

adjustments as required by continually varying conditions of wind and

wave and sky.

And pursuers of high ideals in ethics and philosophy were always on

her list of friends. This list always included clergymen, and in this

connection we may note the observations at a later date of Rev. Charles

G. Ames. He says:

Dr. Zakrzewska in speaking of the class of unfortunate women with

whom she was often brought in contact in her medical work, once said

to me, “I cannot give them money but I always give them my friendship

in order to keep them morally alive.” It made me think of Fichte’s

words, “No honest mind is without communication with God, whether so

called or not.” After hearing that remark of the Doctor’s, I never had

any difficulty in giving her my fellowship on the deepest spiritual

ground.

Reverend James Freeman Clarke[24] was one of her earliest friends in

Boston, their acquaintance beginning back in the days when she came

soliciting help for opening the New York Infirmary.

In her address at the opening of the Sewall Maternity new building, in

1892, Dr. Zakrzewska alludes to this episode, saying:

Let me express the gratitude we owe for our existence to a man whose

influence secured to us the noble friends who in the spirit of justice

to women gave invaluable assistance with their labors and their

financial help--I mean, Reverend James Freeman Clarke.

I feel justified in saying that it was among the members of his church

that the idea was materialized and that funds for the beginning of the

experiment were provided.

We have referred above to Dr. Zakrzewska’s wide reading. One of the

friends of her Cleveland days, Rev. A. D. Mayo, says:

By an intuitive grasp of what was best for herself in books, she

realized the saying of the historian, George Bancroft, “I should as

soon think of eating all the apples on the big tree in my garden as

to read the whole of any good book. I pluck and eat the best apple

and leave the rest.” She always knew the best apple on every tree of

knowledge, and her mind was stored with the condensed wisdom of many

libraries.

And he tells of the renewal in Boston of his friendship with her, some

twenty years after its beginning in Cleveland:

Having made Boston my family headquarters, we were brought together in

her generously appointed home in Union Park, almost under the eaves of

the great church of Dr. Edward Everett Hale. I then verified anew the

old truth that a genuine friendship grows even during absence.

Writing at this same date about Dr. Zakrzewska’s personality, Dr.

Buckel says:

I cannot measure how much I owe to her skillful, energetic, practical

instruction as a physician when I was a student in the New York

Infirmary; neither can I measure the strength, courage and hope which

her bright example has given me throughout my life.

I think, however, that her genuine respect for even the very poorest

of the poor immigrants who crowded the most wretched quarters of

New York made the deepest and most lasting impression. Others

showed sympathy and pity, but she entered into their lives with an

appreciation of their difficulties and a coöperation in their honest

efforts that stimulated their courage and gave them strength to work

on until success finally rewarded them.

She considered the husband, father, son, and brother equally worthy of

regard with the women of the family in all her plans for improvement.

Although devoted to women’s best interests, she never worked for

women alone. Her influence over the men in these poor families was

most remarkable, considering their supposed opinions as to the proper

sphere of woman.

Not a few educated, intelligent men owe their first start in the world

to her suggestive counsel. The spirit of comradeship she felt with

high-minded, intellectual men greatly strengthened my own convictions

as to the true relations of men and women to each other and helped me

to enjoy more freely the friendship of men whom I honored and admired.

In her social life, gentlemen were always most cordially welcomed,

and they seemed sincerely to appreciate her kindness and highly value

her esteem. The picnics and excursions she planned to the suburbs

and parks of New York, which were then easily accessible, are among

the most delightful memories of my life. Grave professors, exiled

philosophers and learned doctors ran with us in our merry games and

forgot for the moment all but the gladsome spirit of the play.

During my long association with Dr. Zakrzewska in hospital life,

both in Boston and in New York, I do not remember a single

misunderstanding. I always had her cordial support in the hospital

and a bright, warm welcome in her home. And I knew that any of our

students whom I might take to her house would also receive a cordial

welcome and realize that she was their friend.

For so many years after its beginning the New England Hospital was so

largely regarded as a personal expression of Dr. Zakrzewska, and its

place in the estimation of the profession was so largely based upon

appreciation of the standards of which she stood as a representative,

that the acceptance by a man physician of a position on the consulting

staff was really a personal tribute to her.

For this reason it seems desirable to publish here the names of all

the men who during her life served the Hospital in a consulting

capacity--whether as physician, surgeon or other specialist--the names

being placed in chronological order.[25]

CHAPTER XL

_Opening of the new Dispensary building (the Pope Dispensary)--Dr.

Zakrzewska speaks of the relation of the Dispensary to confidence

in women surgeons--The new surgical building (the Ednah D. Cheney

Surgical Building)--Dr. Zakrzewska’s remarks on the progress of

the woman physician as demonstrated by these added new buildings

(made more complete later by the Kimball Cottage for the Children’s

Department)--Celebration of her seventieth birthday by a reception

and by the naming of the original main building “The Zakrzewska

Building”--Fatigue of this reception emphasized the failing health

which had already caused her retirement from private practice--Her

characteristic acceptance of the inevitable--Her death--Her funeral

services--Her farewell message. (1896-1902.)_

[Illustration: MARIE E. ZAKRZEWSKA, M.D. (1896)]

In 1896, Dr. Zakrzewska again refers to the confidence of the community

in women surgeons, illustrating it by an experience which she relates

in her address at the opening of the new Dispensary building (Pope

Dispensary--donated by Colonel Albert A. Pope and named for the donor

and his twin sisters, Drs. Augusta and Emily Pope) which was located on

the site of the old one at No. 29 Fayette Street. She says:

Our Dispensary in especial serves another purpose, namely, to

convince rich and poor, educated and uneducated, professionals and

nonprofessionals that women physicians can serve the community at

large as well as can men physicians.

Said an Irishman to me a few weeks ago, when I pronounced it necessary

for a member of his family to undergo a serious operation and advised

further consultation with other physicians, “Can’t we have one of the

women surgeons from your Hospital?”

Seeing my surprise at this proposition, as the man was by no means an

educated person, he said, “Well, Doctor, when I came to this country

with my wife, we were very poor and knew nothing. The good women of

the Pleasant Street Dispensary attended to us and taught us to take

care of ourselves. All our children were born under their care, and

they watched that we did right by them, all without any charge. Now

that we can afford good pay, I am sure we want the same, for I swear

by the women doctors.” This speech, delivered in good broad Irish

brogue, made me laugh most heartily. I soon had the case in the hands

of the proper attendant, and all went well.

So, friends, let us be proud of all we have done, with the promise to

do more and better work as science advances.

In June, 1899, on Mrs. Cheney’s seventy-fifth birthday, the cornerstone

of the new surgical building (the Ednah D. Cheney Surgical Building)

was laid. In an address made at that time, Dr. Zakrzewska says:

After fifty years of experimental agitation and practical work, we

now are completing the third department of the medical art in laying

the cornerstone for this building. The medical pavilion,[26] the

maternity, and now the surgical pavilion are the proofs in brick and

mortar of woman’s independent and faithful performances in the medical

profession.[27]

The confidence of the public which generously provided the means for

this cause, the confidence of the sick who sought relief at the hands

of the women physicians, and the attitude of the profession in general

towards the woman practitioner--all these have been acquired through

skillful and patient labor.

It would be affectation if we women physicians did not feel proud

of the result which we now see materialized, grateful as we are to

all those who in earlier years bore with us not only the doubt and

opposition but also the ridicule of our attempts. While we remember

those who have done their part so valiantly, we do not forget those

who have passed away without having had the satisfaction which we now

enjoy in the success of our early effort.

On September 6, 1899, she celebrated her seventieth birthday, and on

October 24, as stated in the annual report:

The Hospital tried to do honor to the one who, more than all others,

deserves to be honored--its senior physician, Dr. Zakrzewska. In her

thought, the New England Hospital was born. Because of her zeal and

untiring energy and the aid of a few earnest friends, it became a

fact. And from that day to the present one, as wise woman, skillful

physician, and faithful friend, she has been an inspiration to all.

A reception was tendered her by the Hospital at the home of Mrs.

Thomas Mack and there, with Mrs. Cheney to assist, she greeted her

many friends, old and new.

That the Hospital shall always bear an evident sign of its originator,

it has been decided to name the main building which was the first one

built, “The Zakrzewska Building,” and to have it suitably marked by a

tablet.

The exhausting excitement of this celebration aggravated the nerve

fatigue which had been hanging out warning signals for many years,

and to which attention has been called in these pages. At last these

admonitions had become peremptory, and at last the high-spirited

physician was obliged to confess herself subject to the laws regarding

which she had so often cautioned her patients.

A study of her symptoms would in these days lead to a diagnosis of

arteriosclerosis, that sad, sure reaction that waits inevitably upon

the over-strenuous life, whether this follows the spur of the inward

urge or the whip of circumstance. In the earlier days of medical

practice, when symptoms of this condition were most in evidence through

cerebral manifestations, the diagnosis of an obscure and fatal nervous

disease was made, and so it was in this case.

The keen-sighted patient realized that her ailment was progressive,

that it might be palliated though not cured, and that the imperative

treatment lay in a simplified mode of life with avoidance of care,

anxiety and excitement.

So she retired from the last detail of private practice, put her

affairs in order, even arranging her funeral service, and then she

cheerfully turned her mind to bearing her discomforts philosophically

and to making the best of the time which remained.

When the realization of the finality of her situation came to her,

she was undoubtedly shaken (when the final summons comes, every

normal-minded human being quivers, even if it be only for the moment),

but she was not dismayed. Subconsciously her physical condition must

have aroused compensatory instincts, as it does with all of us, for at

one time she wrote:

Death is to me a good friend. Whenever it comes, it is welcome. So

many of my contemporaries have gone and are going into Nirvana, the

world becomes young daily and new to me, into which newness I can

hardly find myself. So that, when I say, “I have enough,” I say the

truth.

But additional acceptance of her position was favored by the serenity

which comes to a mind which had long recognized the inevitable

limitations which time would some time bring, for she writes:

For some years I have been saving money for old age, and in fact, I

have done what I have so often encouraged other women to do--become

independent of friends and charity. I have arranged to be independent

until eighty years--to which age I sincerely hope not to live.

She seldom spoke of herself or of her feelings, but at one time she

wrote:

If it were not for my poor head, I would say I was in better health

than for years. But, alas! the nervous centers refuse to recuperate

and the least excitement renders me sleepless, and a host of regrets,

reproaches and condemnations rise up like demons to torment me.

Then, in one of the characteristic remissions of the condition, she

writes, with one of her customary glints of humor:

I intend to live another seventy years because life seems so well

worth living.

Once she wrote more in detail to Mrs. Cheney, because, as she said:

... It seems to me right that my dearest and oldest friend should

understand me and not misjudge my actions.... Years ago some confusion

of mind warned me of trouble to come, and it finally set in in the

form of noises in my head. I scolded myself for being so nervous in my

behavior while being irritated by these sounds, and I went gladly to

California, hoping to get benefit by diversion.

However, the two distinct noises on the top of my head kept increasing

so that even the noise of the cars did not drown them. Still I forced

myself to act cheerfully and was determined not to be hopeless. Little

by little, however, indifference toward events, then toward people,

and now toward the beauty of nature, has crept upon me.

I have spoken to Dr. Berlin about this noise and described it as a

steady sound of falling rain which prevented my falling asleep, to

which she replied, “Well, we do fall asleep even if it rains hard,

and so will you.” I do not care to talk with other physicians, as I

have made a study of brain trouble more than anything else and can

therefore advise myself. Besides, talking about it increases the

nervous irritation. So please take this as it is written, in cool

reason--it is an inevitable condition which must be braved.

Less than three years were left to test her fortitude. She grew

steadily weaker and on May 12, 1902, her release came. After a night of

restlessness and intense discomfort she fell asleep, never waking again

but passing at sunset into the Silence.

On a beautiful afternoon, the closing scene was laid in the chapel of

the Forest Hills Crematory, and the details were as she had arranged.

She had requested that no flowers should be used--she who so loved

Nature and all the lovely growing things--and in this her friends

respected her wishes. But they could not be denied the tribute of green

palms and wreaths of laurel.

There was no music, no service in the ordinary terms. Her older

friend--William Lloyd Garrison--having gone before, his son of the same

name and her younger friend, made a short introductory address. And

then Mrs. Emma E. Butler, secretary of the board of directors of the

Hospital, read the farewell letter which Dr. Zakrzewska had written for

the occasion:

During my whole lifetime, I have had my own way as much as any

human being can have it without entirely neglecting social rules or

trespassing upon the comfort of others more than is necessary for

self-preservation.

And now, upon this occasion, I wish to have my own way in taking leave

of those who shall come for the last time to pay such respect as

custom, inclination and friendship shall prompt, asking them to accept

the assurance that I am sorry to pass from them, this time never to

return.

While these words are being read to you, I shall be sleeping a

peaceful, well-deserved sleep--a sleep from which I shall never arise.

My body will go back to that earthly rest whence it came. My soul will

live among you, even among those who will come after you.

I am not speaking of fame, nor do I think that my name, difficult

though it be, will be remembered. Yet the idea for which I have

worked, the seeds which I have tried to sow here and there, must live

and spread and bear fruit. And after all, what matters it who prepared

the way wherein we walk? We only know that great and good men and

women have always lived and worked for an idea which favored progress.

And so I have honestly tried to live out my nature--not actuated by an

ambition to be somebody or to be remembered especially, but because I

could not help it.

The pressure which in head and heart compelled me to see and to think

ahead, compelled me to love to work for the benefit of womankind in

general, irrespective of country or of race. By this, I do not wish

to assert that I thought of all women before I thought of myself. Oh,

no! It was just as much in me to provide liberally for my tastes, for

my wishes, for my needs. I had about as many egotistical wants to be

supplied as has the average of womankind.

To look out for self and for those necessary to my happiness, I always

considered not only a pleasure but a duty. I despised the weakness of

characters who could not say “No” at any time, and thus gave away

and sacrificed all their strength of body and mind, as well as their

money, with that soft sentimentality which finds assurance in the

belief that others will take care of them as they have taken care of

others.

But, in taking leave, I cannot pass by those who, in every possible

way in which human beings can assist one another, have assisted me by

giving me their true friendship. Of my earliest career in America, Dr.

Elizabeth Blackwell has been the most powerful agent in strengthening

what was weak in me; while shortly afterward, my acquaintance with

Miss Mary L. Booth fed the enthusiasm kindled by Dr. Blackwell and

strengthened me in my uphill path. The friendship of these two women

formed the corner stone upon which I have built all my life long.

To many valuable friends in New York I owe a deep gratitude, and

especially to Mrs. Robert G. Shaw of Staten Island. In Boston, I

leave a great number of friends, without whom I never could have

accomplished anything and who have developed my character as well as

faculties dormant within me of which I was unaware. It is the contact

with people of worth which develops and polishes us and illuminates

our every thought and action.

To me the most valuable of these early friends were Miss Lucy Goddard,

Mrs. Ednah D. Cheney, Mrs. George W. Bond, Mrs. James Freeman Clarke,

Mrs. George R. Russell, Dr. Lucy E. Sewall and Dr. Helen Morton--not

that I give to them a place higher than to others, but because I am

fully conscious how deeply they affected my innermost life and how

each one made its deep imprint upon my character.

I feel that whatever work may be ascribed to my hand could not have

been done without them. Although I could not number them in the list

of other friends who, in a special sense, formed a greater part of my

life’s affections, still I owe to each and every one a great debt. And

I wish now, whether they be still alive or in simple tribute to their

memory, to tell them of my appreciation of their kindness.

To those who formed the closer family circle in my affections--Mr.

Karl Heinzen, Miss Julia A. Sprague, and my sisters--I have tried to

show my gratitude during the whole of my life, on the principle of

Freiligrath’s beautiful poem:

O Lieb, so lang du lieben kannst;

O Lieb, so lang du lieben magst;

Die Stunde kommt, die Stunde kommt,

Wo du an Grabern stehst und klagst.

And now, in closing, I wish to say farewell to all those who thought

of me as a friend, to all those who were kind to me, assuring them

all that the deep conviction that there can be no further life is an

immense rest and peace to me. I desire no hereafter. I was born; I

lived; I used my life to the best of my ability for the uplifting of

my fellow creatures; and I enjoyed it daily in a thousand ways. I had

many a pang, many a joy, every day of my life; and I am satisfied now

to fall a victim to the laws of nature, never to rise again, never to

see and know again what I have seen and known in my life.

As deeply sorry as I always have been when a friend left me, just so

deeply sorry shall I be to leave those whom I loved. Yet I know that

I must submit to the inevitable, and submit I do--as cheerfully as a

fatal illness will allow. I have already gone in spirit, and now I am

going in body. All that I leave behind is my memory in the hearts of

the few who always remember those whom they have loved. Farewell.

* * * * *

Perhaps she is right. Perhaps in the ordinary egoistic sense in

which the word is used, there is no such thing as Immortality.

Nevertheless--_the spirit of Marie E. Zakrzewska still lives_.