CHAPTER V
Training in all details of housework—After mastering them, spends most of time reading in father’s library—Gradually begins assisting mother in care of patients—Contact with the heights and depths of human nature, from dens to palaces—Nurses two aunts and keeps house for their family—Dr. Arthur Lutze guides her reading in homeopathy and mesmerism—Attack of “brain fever”—Father burns books from Dr. Lutze—Marie learns French, plain sewing, dressmaking and the management of the household, while continuing to assist in mother’s practice. (Fourteen to eighteen years of age: 1843-1847.)
On the same day that I quitted my school, an aunt with whom I was a favorite was attacked with a violent hemorrhage from the lungs, and wished me to come to stay with her. This suited my taste. I went, and for a fortnight was her sole nurse.
Upon my return home, my father told me that, having quitted school, I must now become a thorough housekeeper of whom he might be proud, as this was the only thing for which girls were intended by nature. I cheerfully entered upon my new apprenticeship, and learned how to sweep, to scrub, to wash and to cook. This work answered very well as long as the novelty lasted, but as soon as this wore off, it became highly burdensome.
Many a forenoon when I was alone, instead of sweeping and dusting, I passed the hours in reading books from my father’s library, until it grew so late that I was afraid that my mother, who had commenced practice, would come home and scold me for not attending to my work, when I would hurry to get through, doing everything so badly that I had to hear daily that I was good for nothing and a nuisance in the world; and that it was not at all surprising that I was not liked in school, for nobody could ever like or be satisfied with me.
Meanwhile, my mother’s practice gradually increased, and her generous and kindly nature won the confidence of hundreds who, wretchedly poor, found in her not only a humane woman but a most skillful practitioner.
The poor are good judges of professional qualifications. Without the aid that money can buy, without the comforts that the wealthy hardly need, and without friends whose advice is prompted by intelligence, they must depend entirely upon the skill and humanity of those to whom they apply. Their life and happiness are placed in the hands of the physician and they jealously regard the one to whom they intrust them.
None but a good practitioner can gain fame and praise in this class, which is thought so easily satisfied. It is often said, “Oh! those people are poor and will be glad of any assistance.” Far from it! There is no class so entirely dependent for their subsistence upon their strength and health. These constitute their sole capital, their stock in trade; and when sick, they anxiously seek out the best physicians, for, if unskillfully attended, they may lose their all, their fortune and their happiness.
My mother went everywhere, both night and day, and it soon came to pass that when she was sent for and was not at home I was deputed to go in search of her. In this way, I gradually became a regular appendage to my mother, going with her in the winter nights from place to place and visiting those whom she could not visit during the day.
I remember that in January, 1845, my mother attended thirty-five women in childbed—the list of names is still in my possession—and visited from sixteen to twenty-five daily, with my assistance. I do not think that, during the month, we were in bed for one whole night. Two thirds of these patients were unable to pay a cent.
During these years, I learned all of life that it was possible for a human being to learn. I saw nobleness in dens, and meanness in palaces; virtue among prostitutes, and vice among so-called respectable women. I learned to judge human nature correctly, to see goodness where the world found nothing but faults, and also to see faults where the world could see nothing but virtue.
The experience thus gained cost me the bloom of youth; yet I would not exchange it for a life of everlasting juvenescence. To keep up appearances is the aim of every one’s life; but to fathom these appearances and to judge correctly of what is beneath them ought to be the aim of those who seek to draw true conclusions from life or to benefit others by real sympathy.
One fact I learned, both at this time and afterwards, namely, that men always sympathize with fallen and wretched women, while women themselves are the first to raise and cast the stone at them.
Why is this? Have not women as much feeling as men? Why, women are said to be made up entirely of feeling. How does it happen then that women condemn where men pity? Do they do this in the consciousness of their own superior virtue? Ah, no! for many of the condemning are no better than the condemned.
The reason is that men know the world, that is, they know the obstacles in the path of life, and they know that they draw lines to exclude women from earning an honest livelihood while they throw opportunities in their way to earn their bread by shame. All men are aware of this; therefore, the good as well as the bad give pity to those who claim it.
It is my honest and earnest conviction that the reason that men are unwilling for women to enter upon public or business life is not so much the fear of competition or the dread lest women should lose their gentleness, and thus deprive society of this peculiar charm, as the fact that they are ashamed of the foulness of life which exists outside of the house and home. The good man knows that it is difficult to purify it; the bad man does not wish to be disturbed in his prey upon society.
If I could but give to all women the tenth part of my experience, they would see that this is true, and would see, besides, that only faith in ourselves and in each other is needed to work out a reformation.
Let woman enter fully into business with its serious responsibilities and duties; let it be made as honorable and as profitable to her as to men; let her have an equal opportunity for earning competence and comfort—and we shall need no other purification of society. Men are no more depraved than women, or rather, the total depravity of mankind is a lie.
From the time of my leaving school until I was fifteen years old, my life was passed as I have described, in doing housework, attending the sick with my mother, and reading a few books of a scientific and literary character. At the end of this time, a letter came from an aunt of my mother’s, who was ill and whose adopted daughter (who was my mother’s sister) was also an invalid, requesting me to visit and nurse them. I went there in the fall.
This was probably the most decisive event of my life. My great-aunt had a cancer that was to be taken out. The other was suffering from a nervous affection which rendered her a confirmed invalid. She was a most peculiar woman, and a clairvoyant and somnambulist of the most decided kind. Though not ill-natured, she was full of caprices that would have exhausted the patience of the most enduring of mortals.
This aunt of mine had been sick in bed for seven years with a nervous derangement which baffled the most skillful physicians who had visited her. Her senses were so acute that one morning she fell into convulsions from the effect of distant music which she heard. None of us could perceive it, and we fully believed that her imagination had produced this result. But she insisted upon it, telling us that the music was like that of the Bohemian miners who played nothing but polkas. I was determined to ascertain the truth, and really found that in a public garden one and a half miles from her house such a troop had played all the afternoon. No public music was permitted in the city because the magistrate had forbidden it on her account.
She never was a Spiritualist, though she frequently went into what is now called a trance. She spoke, wrote, sang and had presentiments of the finest kind while in this condition, far better than I have ever seen here in America in the case of the most celebrated mediums.
She even prescribed for herself with success, yet she was not a Spiritualist. She was a somnambulist, and, though weak enough when awake, threatened several times to pull the house down by her violence while in this condition. She had strength like a lion and no man could manage her. I saw the same thing in the hospital later.
This aunt is now healthy; not cured by her own prescriptions or the magnetic or infinitesimal doses of Dr. Arthur Lutze, but by a strong emotion which took possession of her at the time of my great-aunt’s death. She is not sorry that she has lost all these strange powers, but heartily glad of it.
When she afterwards visited us in Berlin, she could speak calmly and quietly of the perversion to which the nervous system may become subject if managed wrongly; and she could not tell how glad she was to be rid of all the emotions and notions she had been compelled to dream out. Over-care and over-anxiety had brought this about, and the same causes could again bring on a condition which the ancients deemed holy and which the psychologist treats as one bordering on insanity.
The old aunt was extremely suspicious and avaricious. Eight weeks after my arrival, she submitted to an operation. The operating surgeon found me so good an assistant that he intrusted me often with the dressing of the wound.
For six weeks, I was the sole nurse of the two, going from one room to the other both night and day, and attending to the household matters besides, with no other assistant than a woman who came every morning for an hour or two to do the rough work, while an uncle and a boy cousin were continually troubling me with their torn buttons, etc.
I learned in this time to be cheerful and light-hearted under all circumstances, going often into the anteroom to have a healthy, hearty laugh. My surroundings were certainly anything but inspiring. I had the sole responsibility of the two sick women—the one annoying me with her caprices, the other with her avarice. In one room, I heard fanciful forebodings; in the other, reproaches for having used a teaspoonful too much sugar. I always had to carry the key of the storeroom to the old aunt in order that she might be sure that I could not go in and eat bread when I chose. At the end of six weeks she died, and I put on mourning for the only time in my life, certainly not through grief.
In connection with the illness of my aunt I have mentioned Dr. Arthur Lutze. He was a disciple of Hahnemann, and I think a doctor of philosophy—certainly not of medicine. Besides being an infinitesimal homeopathist, this man was a devotee of mesmerism. He became very friendly towards me and supplied me with books, telling me that I would not only make a good homeopathic physician but also an excellent medium for mesmerism, magnetism, etc.
At all events, I was glad to get the books, which I read industriously, and he constantly supplied me with new ones so that I had quite a library when he left the place, which he did before my return. He, too, lived in Berlin, and inquired my residence, promising to visit me there and to teach me the art he practiced.
I remained with my aunt until late in the spring, when my health failed and I returned home. I was very ill for a time with brain fever, but at last recovered and set to work industriously to search for information in respect to the human body.
Dr. Lutze kept his word: he visited me at my home, gave me more books, and directed my course of reading. But my father, who had become reconciled to my inclination to assist my mother, was opposed to homeopathy and especially opposed to Dr. Arthur Lutze. He even threatened to turn him out of the house if I permitted him to visit me again, and burned all my books except one that I snatched from the flames.
From this time, I was resolved to learn all that I could about the human system. I read all the books that I could get on the subject, and tried besides to educate myself in other branches.
My father was satisfied with this disposition, and was glad to hear me propose to have a French teacher in the house, both for my sake and for that of the other children. I studied in good earnest by myself; at the same time, going through the usual discipline of German girls. I learned plain sewing, dressmaking and the management of the household, but was allowed to use my leisure time as I pleased.
When my sisters went skating, I remained at home to study; when they went to balls and theaters, I was thought the proper person to stay to watch the house. Having become so much older, I was now of great assistance to my mother in her business. No one complained any longer of my ugliness or my rudeness. I was always busy, and, when at liberty, always glad to do what I could for others; and though these years were full of hardships, I consider them among the happiest of my life. I was as free as it was possible for any German girl to be.