_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.