The voyage of Thekla Nübling, part 4
For members of the Mitchell family
Thekla’s descendants are extremely lucky; a whole set of letters that she wrote to her family in Germany survive to tell her story of coming to America. I have done my best to translate these letters, so here they are (slightly abridged and edited for clarity).
This fourth set of letters describes Thekla’s first week in America.
June 24, 1828
New York City
Last Sunday Mr. T. Mayer came by with his wagon to pick me up for a drive, which I gladly accepted. This street where I’m staying is about two hours long and perfectly straight. Mr. M. drove me to his brother’s place, who has a wife from Bremen; I had such an enjoyable afternoon, finding myself unexpectedly swept away back to Germany.
Ms. Mayer is a gracious woman who has already lived in New York for 20 years. T. Mayer’s wife was her sister, but she died 2 years ago. Here I was once again able to speak my mother tongue. Ms. Mayer gave me much good advice, and I will follow it all. Among other things, she advised me to eat only strawberries, raspberries, and cherries, because the other kinds of fruit here will not do me any good.
A brother of Mr. Smith said he spoke to Max in Philadelphia — but I do not know what to make of this information.
It is oppressively hot here, but unfortunately I have to be in the parlor all day long. For breakfast one must be fully dressed, but for what? We do our hair up like peacocks. Then everyone goes to their rooms for a full hour to freshen up. Why? To sit in the front room and wait for lunch, which starts at 4 o’clock. When I initially joined this group, nothing productive was getting done. But I brought along my knitting, and now everyone does some work, and indeed so eagerly that many of them sew probably 10 stitches in 4 hours.
They can’t knit at all. Yesterday I taught it to one of the ladies, and today she shows it off like a work of art to everyone. Today, to their great astonishment, I began to make a beaded bag, and I heard from every mouth: Oh how very handsome! Oh how very clever! They could all do it too, but they’d rather play with their fans; I am also warm, but I still work.
The food is arguably satisfying, though no soup is ever served. At half-past nine o’clock in the morning, we have coffee, tea, meat, fish, and fruit, whatever one wants to have. Then, because of the heat, there is a long wait until 4 o’clock in the afternoon, but again no soup. Tea is had at 7 o’clock in the evening, then meat and bread with butter at half-past 8 o’clock in the evening.
June 25, 1828
New York City
My aunt in Philadelphia has had a letter from Max to say that he is on his way here. Although the other ladies in the house muster everything to pass the time with me, I long for his speedy arrival.
Yesterday morning I was walking with Ms. Schill and her husband, and they showed me the harbor. You in Ulm can have no idea of this liveliness and bustle; I was distracted by it for an hour.
I imagine all sorts of things in order to pass my time. The oppressive heat makes me despondent, and if I spend too much time in my room, my yearning for you seizes me and I have to force it down. I hope that when my brother arrives the feeling will cease.
Last night I went with the ladies and gentlemen to a garden where there are fireworks and illuminations every evening. The gentlemen in general are not very pleasing to me here in New York, as they have too much phlegm and tend towards laziness. The merchants – yes! – they are more lively and industrious, but they do nothing except for monetary gain.
Mr. Smith and Mr. T. Mayer visit me every day. Tomorrow I will go back to the countryside for a visit.
June 26, 1828
New York City
Next Sunday is the day of my dear parents’ silver wedding anniversary, and it is difficult for me to think of spending this whole day alone. But now everything has changed, and as sad as I was yesterday, I am so happy today. Yesterday I had a stroke of genius, and I managed to pull this off just as well as I have managed everything else on my journey so far.
I asked Mr. Opolo, a gentleman in this house, who (along with his wife) speaks French, if he would take me to Mr. Browster. They did, but the Mr. B. was not at home, which annoyed me, and I was completely out of sorts; I went in dejection down our street, which makes an excellent walk even though it is always crowded with people. Suddenly it occurred to me to go aboard the ship and visit with my brave Captain. Thought, then done! I found my way without asking for directions.
The captain was at home, that is to say, on the ship; there was also a gentleman with him, but I did not think much about it because I thought he was an American. I told the captain that I have attacks of homesickness and poured out my full heart to him, and when I had finished the foreign gentleman said in good German to me, “Oh! You are Miss N. from Ulm.”
I was astonished. It turned out that this handsome young man was a nephew of Mr. T. Mayer; he accompanied me back to the house and provided me with quills and paper, which I lacked. The most agreeable consequence of this accidental meeting is that this young Mayer introduced me today to a young German doctor, named Saynisch, who has a sister the same age as me. I can hardly wait for these two gentlemen to introduce us to each other.
It is customary here to go for a walk in the evening from 9 to 11 o’clock, or even 12 o’clock, along Broadway, the street on which I’m staying. Last night, Mr. T. Mayer picked me up and we walked for an hour and had good conversations. I enjoyed talking with a man who is like my father in so many ways. I am sorry that he leaves for Europe with two of his children next Tuesday. Even so, he wants to introduce me to his associate today, a Mr. Hüppenden from Hannover, who is a relative of the wife of W. I am now getting to know several Germans.
Mr. Pip is waiting in the hall for me, because I asked him to teach me the game of chess.
Two hours later —
I was still sitting at the chessboard when in came Mr. Smith with a letter to Max from Europe; I was beside myself with joy, speechless, as I looked once more on my father’s handwriting. I did not wait long after that to open the letter.
I’m crying with delight, and my hand trembles as I write these lines — my brother Heinrich has become a father, to a boy! A thousand kisses to my dear little nephew. I only wish I could see my mother busying around the nursery, and then my sister-in-law as she lies contented and happy in bed with her baby.
From Ottilie, who was with me on the ship, I have heard nothing. The Jew Levi has gone to his family in Havana.
I do not yet have much to say about New York City, as I have known far too little of it; except for the beautiful surroundings of the seaport and the main street on which I live, I have not seen much. The road does not come up to the garden gates here, but walking along this street is done on wide footpaths of white stone slabs on both sides. Along the whole length of this side of the street are trees and private houses, also inns, and on the other side you can find the most splendid shops that are all going to be lit up at night.
How can the pen of a woman describe such a bustle as one finds in a such a large seaside city? Speaking from the heart, I initially enjoyed this racing and hunting for money and profit, but as my astonishment subsided, so too did the enjoyment, and I never actually wanted to be a part of it. It is especially fortunate for me that I made connections with respectable German families in such good time.
It is quite pleasant for me to see so many visitors throughout the day, especially today, with one thing and another. But this has made me totally happy; for a long time I have not felt so inwardly content, and then came this particular newly arrived letter.
I dance from one room to another and speak English with all of the ladies and gentleman, and I tell it to everyone, “I be Tante, and me brother is father!”
June 27, 1828
New York City
Max is still not here — and yet I live happily because I have met a lovely German girl. The nephew of Mr. Mayer brought me yesterday after dinner to Dr. Saynisch and his sister, a pair of very delightful people. He is a medical doctor and has already acquired a large practice; Minchen, his sister, came here 2 years ago in the same way as I just did, to get to my brother. He has two Swiss youths with him, one from St. Gallen, the other from Arbon, and both are good people.
This morning at 8 o’clock I went to the doctor’s apartment, which, though on the same street, is a full half hour away from here. It was a jolly time and I had to promise Minchen to continue my visits every day. I did not get back to the house until half past ten at night. Tomorrow morning I must stay home, for Miss Lewis hastened to inform me that some gentlemen and five ladies wanted to visit me today while they were out for their walk.
I have also been introduced to an English family, where the two daughters speak French, which has become quite familiar to me since I have daily practice in it. I am also progressing valiantly with English, and I am often praised because I understand it so quickly. When Aunt comes, I’ll be able to chat with her a little.
Although I am quite healthy, Dr. S. has prescribed a diet, which I will faithfully follow. Every morning at 7 o’clock I bathe with his sister, and in the evening I wash my body with a little perfume and another kind of water provided by him for that purpose, which I’m supposed to continue doing for another year. I also have to be careful about my food for another month. He assures me that in this way I shall remain healthy.
Farewell, dear parents! Every morning and evening I include you and my siblings in my prayers.
Stay tuned for the next set of letters, wherein Thekla continues to adjust to American life.