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.
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.