CHAPTER XIII
Learns that Dr. Blackwell is working for the same purpose that brought her (Marie) to America, that is, to establish a Hospital for Women; and that she (Dr. Blackwell) has already progressed as far as opening a dispensary (the New York Infirmary for Indigent Women and Children)—Dr. Blackwell invites Marie to assist her in the dispensary, gives her lessons in English, and urges her to acquire the degree of M.D.—Elizabeth Blackwell first English-speaking woman to receive such degree—Italian, German and French women her only predecessors in this respect—Since beginning of the race, women have instinctively practiced obstetrics and general medicine but their education has been opposed—Marie’s business goes out of fashion—She substitutes a new one which pays very poorly and is complicated by frequent suggestions for irregular sex life with employers—Refusal leads to loss of work—She is compelled to draw on her savings—In the autumn with a balance of fifty dollars, she sets out for Cleveland to enter the Medical Department of the Western Reserve College. (Twenty-five years of age: 1854.)
On the morning of the 15th of May, 1854—the anniversary of the death of Dr. Schmidt, the day of my greatest joy and my greatest misery—we received a call from Miss Goodrich who told us that she had seen Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, and that she thought she had also procured a suitable place for my sister. She gave us the addresses of Dr. Blackwell and of Miss Catherine Sedgwick.
We called first upon the latter, who was extremely kind, and although she had quite misunderstood our wishes—having exerted herself to procure a place for my sister in a way that manifested the belief that we had neither a home nor the means to live—yet her friendliness and readiness to assist us made us forever grateful to her. At that time we did not know her standing in society and looked upon her merely as a benevolent and wealthy woman. We soon learned more of her, however, for though unsuccessful in her first efforts, she shortly after sent for my sister, having secured for her a place in Mr. Theodore Sedgwick’s family, which was acceptable inasmuch as it placed her above the level of the servants. She remained there for seven weeks and then returned home.
On the same morning, I saw Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell—and from this call of the 15th of May, 1854, I date my new life in America. She spoke a little German and understood me perfectly when I talked. I gave her all my certificates for inspection, but said nothing to her of my plans in coming to America. It would have seemed too ludicrous for me in my position to tell her that I entertained the idea of interesting the people in the establishment of a hospital for women. I hardly know what I told her, indeed, for I had no other plan of which to speak, and therefore talked confusedly like an adventurer. I only know that I said that I would even take the position of nurse if I could enter one of the large hospitals, in order to learn the manner in which they were managed in this country.
I cannot comprehend how Dr. Blackwell could ever have taken so deep an interest in me as she manifested that morning, for I never in my life was so little myself. Yet she did take this interest, for she gave me a sketch of her own experience in acquiring a medical education and explained the requirements for such in this country and the obstacles that are thrown in the way of women who seek to become physicians.
She told me of her plan of founding a hospital—the long-cherished idea of my life—and said that she had opened a little dispensary on the 1st of May, two weeks before (the New York Infirmary for Indigent Women and Children), which was designed to be the nucleus for this hospital, and she invited me to come and assist her.
She insisted that first of all I should learn English, and she offered to give me lessons twice a week and also to make efforts to enable me to enter a college to acquire the title of “M.D.,” which I had not the right to attach to my name. I left her after several hours’ conversation, and we parted friends.
[Dr. Blackwell, in her autobiography, tells of writing to her sister, Dr. Emily, giving her impression of this interview: “I have at last found a student in whom I can take a great deal of interest, Marie Zakrzewska, a German about twenty-six.... There is true stuff in her, and I shall do my best to bring it out.... She must obtain a medical degree.”]
I found Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell a rather short but stately lady, blonde with wavy hair, very dignified, kindly in speech, and very deliberate and wise in her remarks.
The cordiality with which she welcomed me as a co-worker, I can never describe nor forget. It aroused all my sunken hopes and energies and directed them again to the field of work which I had cultivated and which I had almost given up in despair. Now, I was finding the welcome and the beginning of which I had dreamed, and all the many days of disappointment were instantly forgotten.
I met in Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell no eccentric person who wanted to bring about the millennium for women, for I soon learned from her of the great obstacles which were to be overcome in the social stratum. Soon, indeed, I learned that social prejudices, habits and customs can be as strong barriers to intellectual development as those placed in the way of reform by a despotic German government.
However, behind this social barrier, a number of high-minded and intellectually advanced women were ready to enter upon a struggle for greater freedom of action. They were especially inspired by the Anti-Slavery movement, which was then fully established and which appealed so strongly to the emotional nature of women. The paths these women trod were full of thorns and thistles yet they bore everything patiently, for, knowing their country and its people, they foresaw all the possibilities for good which could be achieved.
Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, while not the first woman practitioner of medicine even in America, was yet the pioneer in the movement which insisted that medical women should be educated so as to stand equal with men physicians in medical knowledge and in legalized position. Hence, she began her medical life not by practicing her art but by working for the degree of “M.D.” from one of the regularly constituted medical colleges, this meaning at that time a medical college established exclusively for men.
In this course, she followed the example of at least three Italian women who had, near the end of the eighteenth century and in the beginning of the nineteenth, taken the medical degree at the Universities of Florence and Bologna. But her autobiography is well entitled, Pioneer Work in Opening the Medical Profession to Women, because nothing of this kind had been undertaken by an English-speaking woman. Exceptionally, women have, here and there, received the same training as men, as evidenced by ancient histories. And early in this nineteenth century, two German women had received the medical degree at the University of Giessen. And the French obstetrician, Madame Boivin, had the medical degree conferred on her by the University of Marburg before she died in 1841.
From the earliest history of the human race, women have been the practitioners of obstetrics, and thence, naturally, the practitioners in the diseases of women and children.
But even such women suffered from the subjection which was inflicted upon all their sex. Hence, as the science of medicine became organized, and as systematized instruction in both the science and the art became established, opportunities for study and advanced practice were more and more monopolized by men; and women were more and more hindered from exercising and developing their instinctive tendencies in these directions.
But the monopoly has never been secure. Always, large numbers of people, especially of women, have persisted in the desire to be advised medically by women; and always, a certain number of women have responded to their instincts and have prepared themselves as best they could to give medical advice and help, especially to women and children.
Thus even at this date all over the world large numbers of women continued to practice obstetrics, largely as “midwives.” But a considerable number of women also practiced general medicine, especially where they did not come in conflict with medical or civil laws, which were designed to exclude all except the practitioners of the dominant medical group. The passage of laws regulating the practice of medicine is undoubtedly actuated by a sincere desire to raise the standard of medical practice throughout the community, but only too frequently these laws give power to a group of medical oligarchs, a fact which I was many times to observe later.
The best known of the last class of women just described is Dr. Harriot K. Hunt, who was at this date preparing for publication her autobiography which appeared under the title of Glances and Glimpses.
Dr. Blackwell was graduated from the Geneva (New York) Medical College, in 1849, and she then went to Europe to obtain the clinical experience which was denied to women in America, returning to see her sister Emily also become a regular M.D. (1854).
The two sisters procured a charter from the New York Legislature to establish the New York Infirmary for Indigent Women and Children, both feeling the absolute necessity for continued clinical experience before offering their services to suffering humanity at large. Dr. Emily then went to Europe for special clinical study and she was still there. Dr. Blackwell said to me, “My sister has just gone to Europe to finish what she began here, and you have come here to finish what you began in Europe.”
And here I am obliged to give a short statement of the mode of study in the medical profession at that time.
The young student had to find a “preceptor,” a physician of good standing, with whom he studied the preliminaries necessary for entering a medical college or school. He also visited patients with this preceptor and assisted the latter in every way possible. The student thus became familiar with the details of practice even before matriculating regularly in a medical college. I have met young men who had been for years such assistants to physicians, and who later entered college merely to become legally qualified.
Any student who could bring certificates from an acceptable preceptor could easily procure a diploma by attending the medical school of any college for two short successive winter sessions, often of only sixteen weeks’ duration.
This method of clinical experience in private practice made hospital attendance by the student seem almost unnecessary. Even opportunities for attendance at dispensaries, when such existed in the larger cities, were not much sought after by the young men, they feeling that they could gain all the required knowledge by attaching themselves to preceptors.
Society, and indeed civilization in general, was in a primitive stage of development, in spite of material elegance, yes, even of luxury and refined manners. It would take a long time to describe the great change which has taken place in the educational and intellectual development of the people in the United States and the increased facilities which they have for the higher and deeper studies.
The time which it would take with a monarchically limited people to advance any social improvement or reform would require generations, while under free, unlimited social laws, months instead of years will serve to bring about the desired evolution.
Under these conditions, I became the student of Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, she assuming the rôle of medical preceptor, as well as most patient instructor in the English language.
In consequence of her having obtained a charter for a hospital, a few high-minded and progressive friends had contributed sufficient money to open one room for dispensary purposes in a very poor quarter of the East Side of New York. Here poor women and children came three afternoons a week, from three to five o’clock, for medical advice and such simple medicines as Dr. Blackwell could dispense without assistance, until I became her pupil.
The beneficiaries were by no means always grateful; on the contrary, they often considered themselves as important patrons of the women doctors. An incident will illustrate this.
One day, in the hall of the Dispensary, the few settees were filled with patients waiting for our arrival, and two old and decrepit women had taken seats on the curbstone of the sidewalk, also waiting for us. It unavoidably happened that we were fifteen minutes behind the regular time for opening the Dispensary.
As these two old women saw us turning around the corner of Second Avenue, one of them called to those within hearing in the hall, “There come the Dispensary women now!”
And to us, she said, reproachfully, “Those ladies in the hall have been waiting a whole hour already.”
I continued my work at home, going regularly to Dr. Blackwell to receive lessons in English and to assist her in the Dispensary. As we grew better acquainted, I disclosed more to her of the fact that I had a fixed plan in coming to this country, which increased her interest in me.
She wrote in my behalf to the different colleges, and at length succeeded in obtaining admission for me to the Cleveland Medical College (Western Reserve) on the most favorable terms, credit being given me on the lecture fees for an indefinite time.
Here I must stop to tell you why this credit was necessary. The articles that I had manufactured had gone out of fashion in May, and I could not invent anything new, partly because I no longer felt the same interest as before, knowing that I should soon go to a medical college, and partly because the articles then in fashion were cheaper when imported.
We had to live for a little while on the money that we had laid up, until I procured a commission for embroidering caps. It is perfectly wonderful into what kinds of business I was forced, all foreign to my taste.
And here let me tell you some secrets of this kind of business, in which hundreds of women starve and hundreds more go down to a life of infamy.
Cap-making (the great business of Water Street of New York) gives employment to thousands of unfortunates. For embroidering caps, the wholesale dealer pays seven cents each; and for making up, three cents. To make a dozen a day, one must work for sixteen hours.
The embroidering is done in this wise: I received the cut cloth from the wholesale dealer; drew the pattern upon each cap; gave them with three cents’ worth of silk to the embroiderer, who received three cents for her work; then pressed and returned them; thus making one cent on each for myself.
By working steadily for sixteen hours, a girl could embroider fifteen in a day. I gave out about six dozen daily, earning like the rest fifty cents a day; unless I chose to do the stamping and pressing at night and to embroider a dozen during the day, in which case I earned a dollar. One can live in this way for a little while until health fails or the merchant says that the work has come to an end.
You will think this terrible again. Oh, no! This is not terrible. The good men provide another way.
They tell every woman of a prepossessing appearance that it is wrong in her to work so hard, that many a man would be glad to care for her, and that many women live quite comfortably with the help of a “friend.” They say, further, that it is lonely to live without ever going to church, to the concert and theater, and that if these women would only permit the speakers to visit them and to attend them to any of these places, they would soon find that they would no longer be obliged to work so hard.
This is the polished talk of gentlemen who enjoy the reputation of piety and respectability and who think it a bad speculation to pay women liberally for their work. So it would be, in truth, for these poor creatures would not be so willing to abandon themselves to a disreputable life if they could procure bread in any other way.
During the summer of 1854, I took work on commission from men of this sort. While in Berlin, I had learned from the prostitutes in the hospital in what manner educated women often became what they then were.
The average story was always the same. Love, even the purest, made them weak; their lover deceived and deserted them; their family cast them off by way of punishment. In their disgrace, they went to bury themselves in large cities, where the work that they could find scarcely gave them their daily bread. Their employers, attracted by their personal appearance and the refinements of their speech and manners, offered them assistance in another way, in which they could earn money without work. In despair, they accepted the proposals and sank gradually step by step to the depths of degradation, as depicted by Hogarth in the Harlot’s Progress.
In New York, I was thrown continually among men who were of the stamp that I described before, and I can say, even from my own experience, that no man is ever more polite, more friendly or more kind than one who has impure wishes in his heart. It is really so dangerous for a woman of refined nature to go to such stores that I never suffered my sister to visit them; not because I feared that she would listen to these men, but because I could not endure the thought that so innocent and beautiful a girl should come in contact with them or even breathe the same atmosphere.
When fathers are unwilling that their daughters shall enter life as physicians, lawyers, merchants, or in any other public capacity, it is simply because they belong to the class that so contaminates the air that none can breathe it but themselves; or because, from being thrown constantly in contact with such men, they arrive at the same point at which I then stood, and say to themselves, “I can afford to meet such men. I am steeled by my knowledge of mankind and supported by the philosophy that I have learned during years of trial. It cannot hurt me; but by all means, spare the young and beautiful the same experience!”
I dealt somewhat haughtily with the merchants whom I have described, in a manner that at once convinced them of my position. But the consequence was that the embroidery commission which had commenced so favorably, suddenly ceased, “because the Southern trade had failed”; in truth, because I would not allow any of these men to say any more to me than was absolutely necessary in our business.
My income became less and less, and we were forced to live upon the money that we had laid up during the year. I did not look for any new sources of employment for I was intending to go to Cleveland in October. My next sister had business of her own, and Anna was engaged to be married to our friend Mr. C. My brother was also with them, and my mother’s brother, whom she had adopted as a child, was on his way to America.
After having settled our affairs, fifty dollars remained as my share, and with this sum I set out for Cleveland, on the 16th of October, 1854. Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell had supplied me with the necessary medical textbooks, so that I had no other expenses than those of my journey and the matriculation fees which together amounted to twenty dollars, leaving thirty dollars in my possession.