CHAPTER XII
Her former rival (and later her successor), Sister Catherine, comes from Berlin to New York to ask her aid—Marie is joined also by a second sister and a brother—She is robbed of all her savings—The end of her first year in America finds her profoundly depressed because, though successful in business, she has found no opening in her profession—Her hopes are suddenly renewed by hearing of Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell upon whom she calls. (Twenty-four years of age: 1853-1854.)
I must now return to my new enterprise. The business paid well, and, although I was often forced to work with my sister till the dawn of morning, we were happy, for we had all that we needed, and I could write home that the offered assistance was superfluous.
Here I must say that I had resolved, on leaving Berlin, never to ask for aid, in order that I might be able with perfect freedom to carry out my plans independently of my family. How this was ever to be done, I did not yet see, though I had a good opportunity to learn, from life and from the papers, what I had to expect here. But this mode of instruction, though useful to one seeking to become a philosopher, was very unsatisfactory to me.
The chief thing that I learned was that I must acquire English before I could undertake anything. And this was the most difficult point to overcome. I am not a linguist by nature; all that I learn of languages must be obtained by the greatest perseverance and industry, and for this my business would not allow me time.
Shortly after I had fairly established myself in the manufacturing business, I received news from Berlin that Sister Catherine had left the Hospital Charité and was intending to join me in America, in order to aid me in carrying out my plan for the establishment of a hospital for women in the New World. The parties interested in her had finally succeeded in placing her in the wished-for position, thus disconnecting her from the sisterhood. But, after my departure, the position became greatly modified in rank and inferior in character. Private reasons, besides, made it disagreeable for her to remain there any longer, and in this moment she remembered my friendship towards her. And in the unfortunate belief which she shared with many others that all that I designed to do I could do, she at once resolved to come to me and offer her assistance.
She joined us on the 22d of August, and was not a little disappointed to find me in the tassel business instead of in the medical line. The astonishment with which her acquaintances in Berlin heard her announce her intention of going to seek help from a person to whom she had been less than a friend could not be expressed in words. And she told me that the annoyance they manifested was really the chief stimulus that decided her to come at last. She arrived without a cent. Having always found enough friends ready to supply her with money whenever she wished to establish a temporary hospital, it had never occurred to her that she should need any for private use beyond just enough to furnish the simple blue merino dress of the sisterhood, which had often been provided for her by the Kaiserswerth Institute.
But here she was, and she very soon learned to understand the difficulties which must be overcome before I could enter again into my profession. She became satisfied, and lived with us, sharing equally in whatever we had ourselves. There is a peculiar satisfaction in showing kindness to a person who has injured us even though unconsciously, but in her case, she was not entirely unconscious of the harm she had done me. While in America she confessed to me that her acquaintance had been courted by all those who had opposed my appointment and that they sought every opportunity to annoy me.
On the 18th of September, a sister, one year younger than myself, joined us, having been tempted by our favorable accounts to try a life of adventure. We were now four in family.
But Catherine gradually grew discontented. Having been accustomed to the comforts afforded in large institutions and to receiving attentions from the most aristocratic families of Prussia, the monotonous life that we led was endurable to her only so long as the novelty lasted. This soon wore off, and she became anxious for a change.
She had heard her fellow-passengers speak of a Pastor S., who had been sent to America as a missionary, and she begged me to seek him out and take her to him that she might consult him as to what she had best do. I did so, and she soon became acquainted with his family. Mr. S. exerted himself in her behalf and secured her a place as nurse in the Home for the Friendless, where she had charge of some thirty children.
This was a heavy task, for though none was under a year old, she was constantly disturbed through the night and could get but a few consecutive hours of sleep. Besides, she could not become reconciled to washing under the hydrant in the morning and to being forced to mingle with the commonest Irish girls. She was in every respect a lady and had been accustomed to having a servant at her command, even in the midst of the typhus fever epidemic in the desolate districts of Silesia, while here she was not treated even with humanity.
This soon grew unbearable, and she returned to us on the 16th of October, after having been only ten days in the institution. So eager was she to make her escape that she did not even ask for the two dollars that were due her for wages. But we could not receive her, for we had taken another woman in her place who was as friendless and as penniless as she.
Besides, a misfortune had just fallen upon us. During the night before, our doors had been unlocked, our bureau drawers inspected, and all our money, amounting to fifty-two dollars, carried off. And when Catherine arrived, we were so poor that we had to borrow the bread and milk for our breakfast. Fortunately, the day before, I had refused the payment due me for a large bill of goods, and this came now in a very good time.
I did not feel justified, however, in increasing the family to five after our loss, nor did she claim our assistance, but went again to Pastor S. who had invited her to visit his family. With his assistance, she obtained some private nursing, which maintained her until the congregation had collected money enough to enable her to return to Berlin, which she did on the 2d of December. Having many friends in the best circles of that city, she immediately found a good practice again and she is now, as she says, enjoying life in a civilized manner.
We moved at once from the scene of the robbery and took a part of a house in Monroe Street, for which we paid two hundred dollars a year. Our business continued good, and I had some prospect of getting into practice. But with the spring (1854), the demand for worsted goods ceased, and as my practice brought me work but no money, I was forced to look for something else to do.
By accident, I saw in a store a coiffure made of silk in imitation of hair, which I bought. But I found on examination that I could not manufacture it as it was machine work. I went, therefore, to Mr. G. and proposed to him the establishment of a business in which he should manufacture these coiffures, while I would sell them by wholesale to the merchants with whom I was acquainted.
Mr. G. had completely ruined himself during the winter by neglecting his business and meddling with Tammany Hall politics, which had wasted his money and his time. He had not a single workman in his shop when I called, and he was too much discouraged to think of any new enterprise; but on my telling him that I would be responsible for the first outlay, he engaged hands and in less than a month had forty-eight persons busily employed. In this way, I earned money during the spring and freed myself from the obligations which his kindness in receiving us the spring before had laid upon us.
My chief business now was to sell the goods manufactured by Mr. G. Our worsted business was very small, and the prospect was that it would cease entirely, and also that the coiffure that we made would not long continue in fashion. Some other business, therefore, had to be found, especially as it was impossible for us to lay up money.
Our family now consisted of myself and two sisters, the friend that was staying with us, and a brother, nineteen years of age, who had just joined us during the winter and who, though an engineer and in good business, was, like most young men, thoughtless and more likely to increase than to lighten our burdens. Our friend Mr. C., who had become our constant visitor, planned at this time a journey to Europe, so that our social life seemed also about to come to an end.
On the 13th of May, 1854, as I was riding down to the stores on my usual business, reveries of the past took possession of my mind. Almost a year in America, and not one step advanced towards my purpose in coming hither! It was true that I had a comfortable home, with enough to live on, and had repaid to my sister the money that I had borrowed from her on our arrival; yet what kind of life was it that I was leading, in a business foreign both to my nature and to my inclinations, and without even the prospect of enlarging this? These reflections made me so sad that when I reached the store, the bookkeeper, noticing my dejection, told me by way of cheering me that he had another order for a hundred dollars’ worth of goods, etc., but this did not relieve me.
I entered the omnibus again, speculating constantly on what I should do next. Everywhere, my inquiries about women physicians were received with a pitiful shrug of the shoulders, and I could obtain no information concerning the Philadelphia Female Medical College whose report I had read in Berlin. I had finally consulted the newspapers in spite of all the warnings against so doing, and I was almost at the point of calling upon a Mr. and Mrs. B. who advertised their private lying-in hospital (Mrs. B., after becoming a widow, resumed the name of her first husband and became the originator of the homeopathic medical college for women), when a thought suddenly dawned upon me.
Might not the people in the Home for the Friendless be able to give me advice? I had hardly conceived the idea, when I determined to ride directly up there instead of stopping at the street in which I lived. I thought, besides, that some employment might be found for my sister Anna where she could learn the English language for which she had evinced some talent, although I had decided that I could never become master of it.
I had once seen the matron, Miss Goodrich, when I had called there on Catherine S. She had a humane face, and I was persuaded that I should find a friend in her. I was not mistaken. I told her of my plans in coming here and of our present mode of life and prospects, and confided to her my disappointment and dejection as well as my determination to persevere courageously. She seemed to understand and to enter into my feelings and promised to see Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, whom she advised me to call upon at once.
I went home full of the hope and inspiration of a new life—the happiness of that morning can hardly be comprehended. I was not suffering, it is true, for the necessaries of life, but what was far worse, I suffered from the feeling that I lived for no purpose but to eat and to drink. I had no friends who were interested in the pursuits towards which my nature inclined, and I saw crowds of arrogant people about me to whom I could not prove that I was their equal in spite of their money. My sisters had not seen me so cheerful since our arrival in America and they thought that I had surely discovered the philosophers’ stone. I told them of what I had done and received their approbation.