_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.