ABSTRACT
On August 1860, at eight o’clock in the morning, Elizabeth Garrett passed for the first time through the gateway of the Middlesex Hospital. The entrance from the street was through wrought-iron railings and a paved forecourt. Before her was a wide façade of red brick with pediment, cupola and gold clock face. On either side were wings, added as the number of beds grew, and lit by tall Palladian windows. In 1860 the Listerian revolution lay five years in the future. The surgeons at the Middlesex, as everywhere, wore their old frock-coats in the dissecting rooms. Eventually the coat, stiffened with blood and pus until it stood upright, found its way to the operating theatre. The most common operation was amputation, for malignant growths, tuberculous joints and almost all compound fractures. On 7 August, when Elizabeth was going about her usual duties, there was a small operation in the ward.
