As soon as I was dressed the next morning, I rang the bell furiously, and on the appearance of the waiter, exclaimed, “Beefsteak!” This time he comprehended me, and went laughingly away to bring me a good breakfast. I often saw the same waiter afterwards at the hotel, and he never saw me without laughing and exclaiming, “Beefsteak!”
In the course of the forenoon, I was taken in a carriage to the house of Mrs. Severance, but the family was not at home. I returned to the hotel somewhat disheartened and disappointed. Although I should have supposed that death was not far off if some disappointment had not happened to me when I least expected it, yet this persistent going wrong of everything in Cleveland was really rather dispiriting. But a bright star soon broke through the clouds in the shape of Mr. Severance, who came into the parlor directly after dinner, calling for me in so easy and so cordial a manner that I forgot everything and was perfectly happy.
This feeling, however, lasted only until I reached the house. I found four fine children, all full of childish curiosity to hear me talk, but who, as soon as they found that I could not make myself understood by them, looked on me with that sort of contempt peculiar to children when they discover that a person cannot do as much as they themselves can. Mr. Severance, too, was expecting to find me accomplished in music “like all Germans,” and had to learn that I had neither voice nor ear for the art. Mrs. Severance understood a little German, yet not half enough to gain any idea of how much or how little I was capable of doing, and therefore looked upon me with a sort of uncertainty as to what was my real capacity. This position was more provoking than painful—there was even something ludicrous in it, and when not annoyed, I often went into my room to indulge in a hearty laugh by myself.
[Mrs. Severance tells of this first meeting:
I had gone to take her to our home in response to a letter from Dr. Blackwell commending her to our care. The letter had come late the night before, and I had not realized the forlornness to her of being in a hotel over night in a strange city.
How condemned I felt for this thoughtlessness as I looked into the tearful eyes of the lonely foreigner who did not feel at home in English, and who had found no one to greet her in her own language until I ventured my crude German! Her eyes kindled into smiles at that and our years of close friendship were begun.]
I met with a most cordial reception in the college. The dean (Dr. John J. Delamater) received me like a father, and from the first day I felt perfectly at home. All was going on well. I had a home at Mrs. Severance’s, and despite my mutilated English I found many friends in the college, when suddenly circumstances changed everything.
Some changes occurred in Mr. Severance’s business and he was forced in consequence to give up housekeeping. At that time I did not know that the Physiological Society was ready to lend me money, and I was therefore in great distress.
I never experienced so bitter a day as that on which Mrs. Severance told me that I could stay with her no longer. It was but five weeks after my arrival, and I was not able to make myself understood in the English language, which was like chaos to me. On the same day I well remember that for the first time in my life I made an unsuccessful attempt to borrow money; and because it was the first and the last time, it was the more painful to me to be refused. I envied the dog that lived and was happy without troubling his brain; I envied the kitchen-maid who did her work mechanically and seemed to enjoy life far more than those fitted by nature for something higher.
Mrs. Severance secured a boarding place for me for the rest of the winter and paid my board, amounting to thirty-three dollars, from the funds of the society. I lived quietly by myself; studied six hours daily at home, with four dictionaries by me; attended six lectures a day, and went in the evening for three hours to the dissecting rooms.
[Dr. Blackwell, again writing to her sister Emily on November 13th, says: A pleasant circumstance occurred to my German, Dr. Zakrzewska. I arranged a Cleveland course for her, and she entered two weeks ago. She met a very friendly reception, and found that Dr. Kirtland is in correspondence with Professor Müller of Berlin, and he had mentioned her in some of his letters in such high terms that the faculty told her that if she would qualify herself for examination in surgery and chemistry and write an English thesis, they would graduate her at the end of this term. Of course, she is studying with might and main, and will, I have no doubt, succeed; so we may reckon on a little group of three next year. That will be quite encouraging.]
I never conversed with any one at the boarding house, nor even asked for anything at the table, but was supplied like a mute. This silence was fruitful to me. About New Year, I ventured to make my English audible; when, lo! every one understood me perfectly. From this time forward, I sought to make acquaintances, to the especial delight of good old Dr. Delamater who had firmly believed that I was committing gradual suicide.