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A Labrador Doctor
A Labrador Doctor By Wilfred Thomason Grenfell
160 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1919
About the author
Wilfred Thomason Grenfell
129 books3 followersSir Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, KCMG (28 February 1865 – 9 October 1940) was a medical missionary to Newfoundland and Labrador.
Grenfell moved to London in 1882. He then commenced the study of medicine at the London Hospital Medical College (now part of Barts and The London School of Medicine and Dentistry) under the tutelage of Sir Frederick Treves: he graduated in 1888. His immediate family came from Rugby, Warwickshire.
The Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen sent Grenfell to Newfoundland in 1892 to improve the plight of coastal inhabitants and fishermen.[2] That mission began in earnest in 1893 when he recruited two nurses and two doctors for hospitals at Indian Harbour, Newfoundland and later opened cottage hospitals along the coast of Labrador. The mission expanded greatly from its initial mandate to one of developing schools, an orphanage, cooperatives, industrial work projects, and social work. Although originally founded to serve the local fishermen the mission developed to include the aboriginal peoples and settlers along the coasts of Labrador and the eastern side of the Great Northern Peninsula of northern Newfoundland. For his years of service on behalf of the people of these communities he was later knighted.
Grenfell moved to London in 1882. He then commenced the study of medicine at the London Hospital Medical College (now part of Barts and The London School of Medicine and Dentistry) under the tutelage of Sir Frederick Treves: he graduated in 1888. His immediate family came from Rugby, Warwickshire.
The Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen sent Grenfell to Newfoundland in 1892 to improve the plight of coastal inhabitants and fishermen.[2] That mission began in earnest in 1893 when he recruited two nurses and two doctors for hospitals at Indian Harbour, Newfoundland and later opened cottage hospitals along the coast of Labrador. The mission expanded greatly from its initial mandate to one of developing schools, an orphanage, cooperatives, industrial work projects, and social work. Although originally founded to serve the local fishermen the mission developed to include the aboriginal peoples and settlers along the coasts of Labrador and the eastern side of the Great Northern Peninsula of northern Newfoundland. For his years of service on behalf of the people of these communities he was later knighted.
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April 9, 2018
O I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I -
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made ALL the difference!
- Robert Frost
Wilfred Thomason Grenfell grew up wild and unsupervised in the oppressively stuffy world of Victorian England. And he broke FREE of it...
On the rugged coast of England he knew real freedom, so never forgot the taste of personal liberty. Unlike some of us, he had no talent for literature - but he thrived on the outdoors.
There were no BULLIES in those free spaces.
Sailing came naturally to him, and that ability would later prove invaluable on the far East Coast of Canada.
But he was destined by birth first for the English Public School system, where social ambiguity was common, and there his boxing talent was put to the test: his orientation had its defences.
You know, when I was young, I just ignored the pharisees of this world - the guys who’re itching to pick a fight - or, worse, make you do something that’s against your nature!
I never fought back. But I resisted.
But hell hath no fury like a bully scorned - and for most of my life the raging waters of their frustrated anger, like the ancient singer David said, threatened to submerge me.
But I had faith. And “to your own self be true” - and then a Greater One than you will pull you free!
Like Grenfell, eventually I was able to stand tall.
If you’re able to think clearly, all things become possible. And Grenfell’s mind was honed to acuity through unwearying application to his undergrad studies, and steeled to his Purpose.
Then, later, at a prestigious London medical school, Grenfell’s aversion to fin-de-siecle mores found its resolution in a vibrant Christian faith.
And in my own life, my wonderful mother used to say to me when I was a kid, ‘Let’s not dwell on what the OTHER kids are doing - let’s just concentrate on what YOU’RE doing!’
Grenfell put those words into practice far better than I ever could have done!
He was a Protestant saint.
And he didn’t pay any attention to Christian sectarian discords. He just lived the Gospel.
After receiving his medical degree, he then embarked on mission work, first for impoverished tenement youths, and then, combining his seafaring abilities with his credo, for North Sea fishermen.
And finally, serendipitous fate stepped in - in the form of a transatlantic mission for the poor fishermen of Labrador.
The rest is history.
Working for little or no money for his medical treatments, Grenfell forged a living legend from his modest and selfless work for the working poor of Canada throughout his long career.
And this is the tale of that legend - in his OWN words.
A homespun, rough-hewn and out-of-doors monument to one man’s Unwavering Faith.
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I -
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made ALL the difference!
- Robert Frost
Wilfred Thomason Grenfell grew up wild and unsupervised in the oppressively stuffy world of Victorian England. And he broke FREE of it...
On the rugged coast of England he knew real freedom, so never forgot the taste of personal liberty. Unlike some of us, he had no talent for literature - but he thrived on the outdoors.
There were no BULLIES in those free spaces.
Sailing came naturally to him, and that ability would later prove invaluable on the far East Coast of Canada.
But he was destined by birth first for the English Public School system, where social ambiguity was common, and there his boxing talent was put to the test: his orientation had its defences.
You know, when I was young, I just ignored the pharisees of this world - the guys who’re itching to pick a fight - or, worse, make you do something that’s against your nature!
I never fought back. But I resisted.
But hell hath no fury like a bully scorned - and for most of my life the raging waters of their frustrated anger, like the ancient singer David said, threatened to submerge me.
But I had faith. And “to your own self be true” - and then a Greater One than you will pull you free!
Like Grenfell, eventually I was able to stand tall.
If you’re able to think clearly, all things become possible. And Grenfell’s mind was honed to acuity through unwearying application to his undergrad studies, and steeled to his Purpose.
Then, later, at a prestigious London medical school, Grenfell’s aversion to fin-de-siecle mores found its resolution in a vibrant Christian faith.
And in my own life, my wonderful mother used to say to me when I was a kid, ‘Let’s not dwell on what the OTHER kids are doing - let’s just concentrate on what YOU’RE doing!’
Grenfell put those words into practice far better than I ever could have done!
He was a Protestant saint.
And he didn’t pay any attention to Christian sectarian discords. He just lived the Gospel.
After receiving his medical degree, he then embarked on mission work, first for impoverished tenement youths, and then, combining his seafaring abilities with his credo, for North Sea fishermen.
And finally, serendipitous fate stepped in - in the form of a transatlantic mission for the poor fishermen of Labrador.
The rest is history.
Working for little or no money for his medical treatments, Grenfell forged a living legend from his modest and selfless work for the working poor of Canada throughout his long career.
And this is the tale of that legend - in his OWN words.
A homespun, rough-hewn and out-of-doors monument to one man’s Unwavering Faith.
January 14, 2024
A few years ago I spent an inordinate amount of time visiting a splendid museum called “The Rooms” in St John’s where I got to know everything I could ever wish to know about the history and geography of Newfoundland and Labrador. It was breathtakingly detailed, laid scholarship on with a light brush and told a gripping tale of the hard lives and bitter struggles of their coastal fishing communities through the ages. I was enthralled. So much so that when I found a reference to the much-debated Norse settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows, I had a great hankering to go see and judge for myself.
Now, it’s not just around the corner you understand. Not much is. The archaeological site is about as far north as it’s possible to go on the island of Newfoundland – which, if you believe the story, is how the Vikings bumped into it in the first place.
So, first I flew to its nearest town, St Anthony and there I met the ghost of the remarkable Dr. Grenfell. Someone I never heard of before and clearly someone I should have.
The whole town is a memorial to the man. There’s his house where you can stroll around and see the books he wrote, many more that he read, a few paintings on his walls and out of the window, a garden his wife kept when snow and ice allowed. On the hillside behind the house, a boulder marks where they both are buried and plaques want to make sure we don’t miss out on his achievements.
But the real tribute is across the road, spread out over several acres, neat as a new pin, up-to-date and very busy. It’s a hospital. Not the original hospital Dr. Grenfell set up. Far from it. When he first arrived, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing anywhere. He arrived as a British Medical Missionary from England in 1892 with a deep religious conviction that he was there to save and improve lives. He doctored those near at hand, regularly set out with dogs and a sled for those further away and gradually put together a small hospital. Today it’s the Labrador-Grenfell Regional Health Authority Center, delivering medical services to the whole area.
I couldn’t begin to describe how Wilfred Grenfell's determination brought health and hope to the poor and desperate people of Labrador. Luckily though I don’t have to. For that you can read any one of his many books. But from a standing start, I think this one will give you the best overview and understanding of the man and his times, his work and his legacy.
And as a bonus, you'll find his written style easy on the ear, his descriptions often lyrical and the strength of the man’s character and his humanity jumping out of every page. Try this one and like me, you’ll be looking for his next.
And L’Anse aux Meadows? Well as stories go, let’s just say the good doctor's had the archaeologists' knocked into a cocked hat.
Now, it’s not just around the corner you understand. Not much is. The archaeological site is about as far north as it’s possible to go on the island of Newfoundland – which, if you believe the story, is how the Vikings bumped into it in the first place.
So, first I flew to its nearest town, St Anthony and there I met the ghost of the remarkable Dr. Grenfell. Someone I never heard of before and clearly someone I should have.
The whole town is a memorial to the man. There’s his house where you can stroll around and see the books he wrote, many more that he read, a few paintings on his walls and out of the window, a garden his wife kept when snow and ice allowed. On the hillside behind the house, a boulder marks where they both are buried and plaques want to make sure we don’t miss out on his achievements.
But the real tribute is across the road, spread out over several acres, neat as a new pin, up-to-date and very busy. It’s a hospital. Not the original hospital Dr. Grenfell set up. Far from it. When he first arrived, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing anywhere. He arrived as a British Medical Missionary from England in 1892 with a deep religious conviction that he was there to save and improve lives. He doctored those near at hand, regularly set out with dogs and a sled for those further away and gradually put together a small hospital. Today it’s the Labrador-Grenfell Regional Health Authority Center, delivering medical services to the whole area.
I couldn’t begin to describe how Wilfred Grenfell's determination brought health and hope to the poor and desperate people of Labrador. Luckily though I don’t have to. For that you can read any one of his many books. But from a standing start, I think this one will give you the best overview and understanding of the man and his times, his work and his legacy.
And as a bonus, you'll find his written style easy on the ear, his descriptions often lyrical and the strength of the man’s character and his humanity jumping out of every page. Try this one and like me, you’ll be looking for his next.
And L’Anse aux Meadows? Well as stories go, let’s just say the good doctor's had the archaeologists' knocked into a cocked hat.
November 26, 2012
Much of this book I found a very interesting read, because Sir Wilfred Grenfell describes an era of school education, the practice of medicine, and the pioneering and development of human settlements in a harsh climate; an era which has now completely passed with pharmaceutical discoveries and the technological development of satellite communication over very long distances.
Grenfell’s public school education at Marlborough sounded pretty uncompromising, but on the whole, fair. I particularly liked his recollection of the Chemistry (‘stinks’) master’s manner of summons: “Come and be caned, boy. My study, twelve o’clock.” After the appointment had been kept, and the punishment meted out, the master would remark, “Go away, boy. Cake and wine, my room, five o’clock” Grenfell observes that over the longer term it was the second of those two actions which acted to genuinely improve the miscreant’s diligence for schoolwork.
In 1883/4, after leaving Marlborough, Grenfell trained in medicine at University College, London, and at the London Hospital. He dammingly comments that at the beginning there was no supervision ”Not one soul cared what you did.” The classes/lectures he describes are positively, to the point of disbelief, anarchic. After that experience it somehow doesn’t come as a surprise to read how in his second year he caught the God bug, which suffused his whole being and impelled his ambition for the rest of his life. That vein may irritate the atheist reader; all I can say is don’t allow it to do so.
His third year was spent largely walking the wards of ‘The London’; where he describes sketching live examples of anthrax and leprosy, to fix their appearance in his mind. Like Jennifer Worth’s later experiences recounted in her three books beginning with “Call The Midwife”, Grenfell’s detailed recollections glow with interest to his reader, describing with clarity and self-deprecation as they do a knowledge and practice of medicine which no longer exists.
The bulk of “A Labrador Doctor” recounts and describes just that. To my shame I first had to study the maps to fully understand the geographical position: north-west of Newfoundland, across the Strait of Belle Isle (which meets the Gulf of St Lawrence). In my copy of this book there are two extremely helpful annotated maps of the Labrador and of Newfoundland. Grenfell’s text is a pioneering account of growth of settlement, when life was very hard and often short. Though he writes from the vantage of 1932, his memories, and his analysis of those memories from essentially the 1890’s onwards are pin sharp and extremely vividly described (especially those relating to the technology of seafaring in those far-gone days). Most notable, surely, is Chapter 16, “Adrift on a Pan of Ice”; a fearfully gripping account of Grenfell’s remarkable survival resulting from the quirks of the most hostile of elements.
Much of the interest and strength of Grenfell’s account of building-up sustainable economic communities on the Labrador lies in the length of the period, some forty-odd years, which he describes. He’s not like some modern-day explorer who spends a few months on a polar expedition, returning home to write the book, be interviewed ad nauseam on TV, and negotiate the Hollywood film rights! OK, yes, I must confess to my attention drifting right at the end of the book, which is a something of a lengthy list of commendations and thank-you’s; but this IS written in an utterly genuine spirit of real gratitude and pride in the achievements of all who worked together for the common good. I reached the last page, sighed, and thought to myself that here was a real and inspirational hero that I could believe in, relate to, and hope to emulate at least in spirit. By comparison modern day ‘heroes’ such as extremely well paid footballers, and film ‘stars’ acting fantasy, pale into an insipid irrelevant insignificance.
Grenfell’s public school education at Marlborough sounded pretty uncompromising, but on the whole, fair. I particularly liked his recollection of the Chemistry (‘stinks’) master’s manner of summons: “Come and be caned, boy. My study, twelve o’clock.” After the appointment had been kept, and the punishment meted out, the master would remark, “Go away, boy. Cake and wine, my room, five o’clock” Grenfell observes that over the longer term it was the second of those two actions which acted to genuinely improve the miscreant’s diligence for schoolwork.
In 1883/4, after leaving Marlborough, Grenfell trained in medicine at University College, London, and at the London Hospital. He dammingly comments that at the beginning there was no supervision ”Not one soul cared what you did.” The classes/lectures he describes are positively, to the point of disbelief, anarchic. After that experience it somehow doesn’t come as a surprise to read how in his second year he caught the God bug, which suffused his whole being and impelled his ambition for the rest of his life. That vein may irritate the atheist reader; all I can say is don’t allow it to do so.
His third year was spent largely walking the wards of ‘The London’; where he describes sketching live examples of anthrax and leprosy, to fix their appearance in his mind. Like Jennifer Worth’s later experiences recounted in her three books beginning with “Call The Midwife”, Grenfell’s detailed recollections glow with interest to his reader, describing with clarity and self-deprecation as they do a knowledge and practice of medicine which no longer exists.
The bulk of “A Labrador Doctor” recounts and describes just that. To my shame I first had to study the maps to fully understand the geographical position: north-west of Newfoundland, across the Strait of Belle Isle (which meets the Gulf of St Lawrence). In my copy of this book there are two extremely helpful annotated maps of the Labrador and of Newfoundland. Grenfell’s text is a pioneering account of growth of settlement, when life was very hard and often short. Though he writes from the vantage of 1932, his memories, and his analysis of those memories from essentially the 1890’s onwards are pin sharp and extremely vividly described (especially those relating to the technology of seafaring in those far-gone days). Most notable, surely, is Chapter 16, “Adrift on a Pan of Ice”; a fearfully gripping account of Grenfell’s remarkable survival resulting from the quirks of the most hostile of elements.
Much of the interest and strength of Grenfell’s account of building-up sustainable economic communities on the Labrador lies in the length of the period, some forty-odd years, which he describes. He’s not like some modern-day explorer who spends a few months on a polar expedition, returning home to write the book, be interviewed ad nauseam on TV, and negotiate the Hollywood film rights! OK, yes, I must confess to my attention drifting right at the end of the book, which is a something of a lengthy list of commendations and thank-you’s; but this IS written in an utterly genuine spirit of real gratitude and pride in the achievements of all who worked together for the common good. I reached the last page, sighed, and thought to myself that here was a real and inspirational hero that I could believe in, relate to, and hope to emulate at least in spirit. By comparison modern day ‘heroes’ such as extremely well paid footballers, and film ‘stars’ acting fantasy, pale into an insipid irrelevant insignificance.
October 13, 2019
A wonderful read, thanks to reading review by Goodreads friend Fergus. My interest was piqued by the Newfoundland connection - the Newfoundland regiment camped on the Common near my former home, during WW2, and one young man named on the Southborough War Memorial sadly perished in a fire in St John’s, having served on the Atlantic convoys. I have also blogged about the outstanding courage of George Furey, a Newfoundlander, on another convoy.
I’d never heard of W T Grenfell before, but have been humbled by his account of his extraordinary life - full of thrilling, fascinating detail and story. One of many Victorians who gave of their energies in a life dedicated to the service of mankind. I’ve highlighted way too many passages to share, but among many things was very interested to see that Grenfell actually treated the Elephant Man in his training time at the London Hospital.
I’d never heard of W T Grenfell before, but have been humbled by his account of his extraordinary life - full of thrilling, fascinating detail and story. One of many Victorians who gave of their energies in a life dedicated to the service of mankind. I’ve highlighted way too many passages to share, but among many things was very interested to see that Grenfell actually treated the Elephant Man in his training time at the London Hospital.
April 30, 2012
Good book. I was surprised how hard the churches were working to get the government to take over their work at that time, whereas now they are lamenting the government role and saying it is usurping the church's role!
Read
February 6, 2022I got a bit stuck after beginning this book, but once I re-started and got into the sections about his work in Newfoundland and Labrador, I enjoyed his stories and found a great respect for him as a person.
Warning, though, this edition did not include the photos it makes reference to. Quite a disappointment.
Warning, though, this edition did not include the photos it makes reference to. Quite a disappointment.
January 3, 2026
3 and a half stars. This book, written in 1918, is the autobiography of a doctor/missionary who worked in Labrador from the 1890s. I found it very interesting, but there were too many boating terms which were unfamiliar to me so there was a lot that went over my head. There were also a lot of pictures, but they did not come through to the Kindle, which was a great pity. I didn't know that Labrador was its own country up until 1948 when the people voted to be integrated into Canada. Enjoyable.
November 16, 2014
Couldn't get into this novel. Left it.
August 23, 2021
It’s an interesting book, reads more as a explorer’s biography than a missionary’s.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews