Pioneer Work in Opening the Medical Profession to WomenBlackwell, Elizabeth
History
Pioneer Work in Opening the Medical Profession to Women
Blackwell, Elizabeth
Blackwell, Elizabeth, 1821-1910; Women physicians -- United States -- Biography
At a little after twelve our dinner-bell rings, and right
glad I always am to hear it. The large round tables are
speedily encircled, all stand up, and a grace is said with
such rapidity that to this day I can make out no words but
_saint usage_, and the sign of the cross made with wonderful
dexterity on the forehead and breast. At the conclusion of
the meal another prayer rocket is sent up, amidst laughing
and bustle, and all crowd out of the hall, with their loaves
of bread under their arms and all manner of odd little pots
full of eatables in their hands. From one till two another
lesson in the amphitheatre—which, fortunately, is a pleasant
room—from the second _aide-sage-femme_, a lesson useful on
the whole, but sometimes a little wearisome. From two to
three is the hour for receiving visitors, but if I am not
expecting a visit, and if I have sat up the preceding night,
I take a bath—for there are six baths prepared every day
at that hour for the _élèves_. The same communism exists in
the baths as in everything else. They are side by side, in
a double row, down the middle of the room; and the withered
genius of the bath-room stands, observing every movement,
and talking an incomprehensible _patois_ the whole time.
I try to imagine it is only the bubbling of water that I
hear; I shut my eyes, lie quietly for half an hour, and
fancy that I am deliciously reposing on the heaving waters
of some soft summer lake; then I spring up, take a cold
dash, to the horror of my companions, and hurry off as fast
as possible, really the better for the divine element....
Were I a good Catholic I should find my time filled
with visits to the chapel—morning and evening prayers,
vespers, and the daily baptisms are regular services, with
numerous extras on saints’ days, &c.; but most happily I
am Protestant, and again and again I have blessed Heaven
for the fact. The great fat, red-faced priest occasionally
leaves the retirement of his clerical dwelling and strolls
in the wood, or makes a visit to the infirmary; he always
gives me long stares of excessive curiosity when I pass him,
but I have taken a great dislike to his sensual-looking
worship, and will not give him the slightest opportunity
to make my acquaintance....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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