Indeed, I have known jumping down two or three stairs to bring about the desired result; but as a rule, the girl does not act energetically this first month, and the difficulty is enormously increased by leaving the matter for two months; but it is still easy to bring it about the second month, and without much danger of inflammation or consequent illness; the third, fourth, and fifth months are excessively dangerous, and abortion then should be carried out by a skilled hand, for as soon as the foetus adheres to the side of the womb, it is not easy to get rid of; even when a miscarriage is brought about, one must take care to remove all the filaments attached to the side of the womb with a silver spoon, of course perfectly disinfected; a skilled hand is needed in this case. In the sixth, seventh, eight, and ninth months, abortion is comparatively easy, but there is life in the child.
We had in Vienna a method of bringing about abortion, especially at the end of the first, or even the second month, which had no ill effects; we made a pointed pencil of certain ingredients which swell with the heat of the body; this pencil would be introduced slowly and carefully into the neck of the womb; as soon as it began to swell, the abortion was begun: nature then made its own effort and got rid of the intruding semen.
Of course, in all cases in which the girl seeks to bring about abortion she ought, if possible, to have the advice and skilled assistance of a good doctor; and in spite of the insane legal prohibitions, it is not difficult to find such help.
I am now going to complete this chapter by giving a personal experience which may have a certain interest as revealing the depths over which ordinary life is built.
When I first went to Berlin as a student, nearly fifty years ago, now, I went out looking for rooms not too far from the university and near the great avenue, Unter den Linden. I soon found two excellent rooms and a bathroom on the third floor, which were let by a nice looking woman of about forty or fortyfive.
"Who will attend to me?" I asked, for the price was rather high. "Either I myself or my daughter," said the woman, and going to the door she called,
"Katchen!" A pretty girl of sixteen or so came running and bowed to me smiling. "All right," I said, "I'll take the rooms and move in this afternoon." In a few hours I came in and the mother and daughter helped me to arrange everything and make myself comfortable.
The woman brought me my coffee in the morning at eight o'clock, got my bath ready and went away. I was perfectly content, and even better satisfied when, after a couple of mornings, Katchen brought me my coffee, arranged the bath, chatting to me the while.
Everything went perfectly for about a month: Katchen and I had become great friends and I had already taught her that kissing sweetened service. To do her justice, she seemed eager to profit by the teaching, but at the same time showed a fear of being caught, I thought by her mother; and that seemed to me extraordinary.
One Sunday morning she hurried away and the mother came in her stead.
"Where's Katchen?" I asked.
"Her father's there," the woman replied, "and he doesn't like her to serve anyone."
"Send your younger daughter, Lisabeth!" I said cheekily, and the woman, as if scared, answered, "Oh, that would be worse!"
"Why worse?" I went on. "I won't eat her, and surely your husband can't want the three girls to attend to him."
"Please, please, Sir," she cried, "don't speak so loud. He might hear and then our good times would be over."
"Over?" I questioned. "Is he such a brute?"
"Oh, Sir," she cried with tears in her voice, "forgive me! I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Now I must go," and away she hurried, evidently in extreme excitement or fear.
The next morning in came the mother again, and she told me the father was very suspicious and had told her that I was too young for Katchen to wait upon me. "Nonsense!" I cried. "I want Katchen to come out with me to the theatre."
"Oh, Sir, please not!" cried the mother passionately. "Then he'd be sure to know and he'd be furious. Be content with me for a week or so and he may forget-and I'll send Katchen to you again."
"All right;" I said, "it's idiotic," but I had a good deal of work to do and wasn't sorry to be forced to get on with it.
Three or four days more elapsed and Katchen brought me my coffee again and sat on my bed talking with me. I had my arm round her pretty, slim waist and was kissing her, when a knock came on the door and a man's voice called her loudly. She sprang from the bed with white face and frightened eyes and vanished.
I got up, bathed and dressed quickly, and then rang to have the breakfast things taken away. The mother came in; evidently she had been crying.
"Please, please Sir, take care," she said. "He's in one of his mad rages: he came back from work on purpose to catch Katchen. Oh, Sir, take care and don't go out till noon."
"I'm going out very soon," I said, carelessly, "and shan't put it off for anyone."
"I pray you go very quietly," she said in a low voice. "We all want you to stay."
"I don't understand," I said, feeling bewildered, for there were not many students who could pay what I was paying.
"Nobody could understand," she cried, "how unhappy I am. Please Sir," she added imploringly.
"All right," I said, laughing to reassure her. "I'll slip out like a mouse and return just as quietly-"
"Please come back before six," she said. I promised and went.
That evening I got back about five and saw the mother. I asked for Katchen.
The mother said, "I'll send her, Sir, but please let her go soon; he comes home from work soon after six."
Katchen came and was more loving than before, though manifestly on the qui vive, listening for every sound. Before six, even, she kissed me and said she'd have to go and I took her to the door; there the kissing began again and lasted, I suppose, longer than we thought, for just as I opened the door that gave on the passage to her room, there was a man at the bottom of the short flight of stairs; he sprang up them as the girl ran into the door to the right leading to her apartment. The man came straight to me. He was about my height and sturdily built, plainly a man of forty-five at least, or fifty.
"You can leave this house tomorrow," he said in a low hoarse voice.
"Who are you to give me orders?" I asked.
"I'm the master here," he replied, "and I tell you, you had better go."
"My month's only beginning," I replied, "and I want the usual notice."
"If you don't go tomorrow," he said, "you'll be carried out-"
"You're a fool to threaten," I said. "To go soon would be to prove that I was afraid of you and I'm not."
"If you had more sense, you would be," he replied.
"Get out of my way," I retorted, "I'm going."
"You go," he said, "and don't come back."
As he didn't move I pushed him slightly. He at once seized my right arm and struck savagely at my face.
As a trained athlete, I had already weighed the possibilities; as he pulled my arm I went with it to destroy his balance. As he struck I threw my head aside and my left foot behind him. The next moment he over-balanced, and slipping back to recover himself, slipped on the stairs and went with a crash to the bottom and lay still.
At once the neighboring door opened and the mother and Katchen rushed out. I had already sprung down and lifted the man; his nose was bleeding, but his head was not seriously hurt. He would be quit for a painful bruise and a headache, and so I informed the woman, who seemed scared to death. With her help, I carried him into his bedroom, and on the way saw the two younger daughters: Lisabeth, whom I knew slightly, an ordinary girl of thirteen or so, and Marie a pretty child of ten, who, to my surprise, stared while Katchen wept.