of men to let them earn money in abundance by shame, while they grind them
down to the merest pittance for honorable work. Shame on society, that
women are forced to surrender themselves to an abandoned life and death,
when so many are enjoying wealth and luxury in extravagance! I do not wish
them to divide their estates with the poor; I am no friend to communism in
any form: I only wish institutions that shall give to women an education
from childhood that will enable them, like young men, to earn their
livelihood. These weak women are the last to come forth to aid in their
emancipation from inefficient education. We cannot calculate upon these:
we must educate the children for better positions and leave the adults to
their destiny.
How many women marry only for a shelter or a home! How often have I been
the confidante of girls, who the day before, arrayed in satin, had given
their hands to rich men before the altar, while their hearts were breaking
with suppressed agony! and this, too, among Americans, this great, free
nation, who, notwithstanding, let their women starve. It is but lately
that a young woman said to me, "I thank Heaven, my dear doctor, that you
are a woman; for now I can tell you the truth about my health. It is not
my body that is sick, but my heart. These flounces and velvets cover a
body that is sold,--sold legally to a man who could pay my father's
debts." Oh! I scorn men, sometimes from the bottom of my heart. Still this
is wrong: for it is the women's, the mothers' fault, in educating their
daughters to be merely beautiful machines, fit to ornament a fine
establishment; while, if they do not succeed in gaining this, there is
nothing left but wretchedness of mind and body. Women, there is a
connection between the Fifth Avenue and the Five Points! Both the rich and
the wretched are types of womanhood; both are linked together, forming one
great body; and both have the same part in good and evil. I can hardly
leave this subject, though it may seem to have little to do with my
American experience; but a word spoken from a full heart not only gives
relief, but may fall on _one_ listening ear, and take root there.
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 any
thing. 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 that
she shared with many others, that all that I designed to do I could do 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 instead of 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 that they
manifested was really the chief stimulus that decided her to come at last.
She arrived without a cent. Having always found friends enough 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, though unconsciously under
different circumstances: and, in her case, she was not entirely
unconscious of the harm she had done me; for she confessed to me while in
America, that her acquaintance was courted by all those who had been
thwarted in their opposition by my appointment, and that she knew well
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 the 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 only endurable to
her 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 the charge of some
thirty children. This was a heavy task; for, though none were under a year
old, she was constantly disturbed through the night, and could get but a
few hours' consecutive 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 have a servant at her command, even in the midst of the
typhus-fever in the desolate districts of Silesia; while here she was not
even treated 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, 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 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 prospects of getting into
practice. But, with spring, the demand for worsted goods ceased; and as my
practice brought me work, but no money, I was forced to look out 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 establish a business with him, 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 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 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 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 upon, and
had repaid my sister the money that I had borrowed from her on our
arrival; yet what kind of a life was it that I was leading, in a business
foreign to my nature and inclinations, and without even the prospect of
enlarging this? These reflections made me so sad, that, when I reached the
store, the book-keeper noticed my dejection, and told me, by way of
cheering me, that he had another order for a hundred dollars' worth of
goods, &c.; but this did not relieve me. I entered the omnibus again,
speculating constantly on what I should do next; 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, in which she could learn the English language, for which she
had evinced some talent, while I had decided that I could never become
master of it. I had seen the matron, Miss Goodrich, once when I 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. Dear Mary, you
can hardly comprehend the happiness of that morning. 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
thought that I had surely discovered the philosopher's stone. I told them
of what I had done, and received their approbation.
On the morning of the 15th of May,--the anniversary of the death of Dr.
Schmidt and 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 thought that 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 for ever 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 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 seven weeks, and then returned home.
On the same morning, I saw Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell; and from this call of
the 15th of May 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 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--the charter for which was procured
during the preceding winter, under the name of "The New-York Infirmary for
Indigent Women and Children"--on the 1st of May, two weeks before, and
which was designed to be the nucleus for this hospital, where she invited
me to come and assist her. She insisted that, first of all, I should learn
English; and 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.
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 any thing 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 in
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 theatre; 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. The purest love 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
refinement 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 sunk 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 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; while 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 text-books;
so that I had no other expenses than my journey and the matriculation
fees, which together amounted to twenty dollars, leaving thirty dollars in
my possession.
I do not believe that many begin the study of medicine with so light a
purse and so heavy a heart as did I. My heart was heavy for the reason
that I did not know a single sentence of English. All of my study with Dr.
Blackwell had been like raindrops falling upon stone: I had profited
nothing. The lectures I did not care for, since there was more need of my
studying English than medicine: but the subjects were well known to me;
and I therefore reasoned, that, by hearing familiar things treated of in
English, I must learn the language; and the logic held good.
I have already told you that the Faculty had agreed to give me credit for
my lecture-fees. Dr. Blackwell had written also to a lady there, who had
called upon her some time before in the capacity of President of a
Physiological Society, which, among other good things, had established a
small fund for the assistance of women desirous of studying medicine. This
lady (Mrs. Caroline M. Severance) replied in the most friendly manner,
saying that I might come directly to her house, and that she would see
that my board for the winter was secured by the Physiological Society over
which she presided.
The journey to Cleveland was a silent but a pleasant one. Through a
mishap, I arrived on Saturday night, instead of in the morning; and, being
unwilling to disturb Mrs. Severance at so late an hour, went first to a
hotel. But what trials I had there! No one could understand me; until at
last I wrote on a slate my own name and Mrs. Severance's, with the words,
"A carriage," and "To-morrow." From this the people inferred that I wished
to stay at the hotel all night, and to have a carriage to take me to Mrs.
Severance's the next day; as was the case. A waiter took my carpet-bag and
conducted me to a room. I could not understand his directions to the
supper-room, neither could I make him understand that I wanted some supper
in my own room; and the consequence was, that I went to bed hungry, having
eaten nothing all day but a little bread, and an apple for luncheon.