"'Resolved, That one of the radical principles of a republican government is the universal education of both sexes; that to every branch of scientific education the door should be equally open to all; that the application of Elizabeth Blackwell to become a member of our class meets our entire approbation, and, in extending our unanimous invitation, we pledge ourselves that no conduct of ours shall cause her to regret her attendance at this institution.'" The students were as good as their word. Their conduct, as Miss Blackwell wrote years afterward, was always admirable and that of "true Christian gentlemen." But the women of Geneva were shocked at the female medical student. They stared at her as a curious animal; and the theory was fully established that she was "either a bad woman, whose designs would gradually become evident, or that, being insane, an outbreak of insanity would soon be apparent."[210] In due time Miss Blackwell finished her course in medicine and surgery, and graduated at the head of her class. The orator of the day, who was a member of the faculty, naturally referred to the new departure that had been made--the admission of a woman for the first time to a complete medical education--and among other things declared that the experiment, of which every member of the faculty was proud, "had proved that the strongest intellect and nerve and the most untiring perseverance were compatible with the softest attributes of feminine delicacy and grace."[211] The awarding of the degree of M.D. for the first time to a woman in America excited general comment and widespread interest, not only in the United States, but in Europe as well. The public press was not unfavorable in its opinion of the new departure, and even _Punch_ could not resist writing some verses, sympathetic, albeit humorous, in honor of the fair M.D.[212] After spending some time abroad studying in the great hospitals of Europe, Miss Blackwell started the practice of medicine in New York City. At first, as she declares in her autobiographical sketches, it was "very difficult, though steady, uphill work. I had," she tells us, "no medical companionship, the profession stood aloof, and society was distrustful of the innovation." The aloofness of the profession arose from a dread of successful rivalry, and the men did not wish to encourage "the invasion by women of their own preserves." "You cannot expect us," one of them frankly admitted to her, "to furnish you with a stick to break our heads with."