Thrice in the rounding of one little year,Saint Mary’s hallowed temple hath revealedAn honored priest reposing on his bier,His pallid lips in icy silence sealed.Thrice, have regretful tears bedewed the urnWhere sacerdotal ashes were enshrined;Youth, age and ripen’d manhood, each in turn,Unto Saint Mary’s funeral vaults consigned.13And now, before the fading flow’rs have strownTheir last, sweet, withered petals round the place;Or early snows lie white upon the stoneThat shuts from sight each well-remembered face—Before the shades of the anointed DeadHave melted from Saint Mary’s aisles away,We hear once more the mourner’s solemn tread—Another saint is here in death, to-day!Dear Sister Gonzaga! good mother, friendOf Christ’s own little ones—His precious poor!From Life’s beginning to its blessed endThy Words were Wisdom’s, and thy works were pure.In tender youth, betrothed to thy Lord;For three-score years and ten His faithful spouse,He was thine aim—thy solace—thy reward—Bound to His Sacred Heart by deathless vows!Toiler of yore with Kenrick, Neuman, Wood,One of our Faith’s first local pioneers!So long hath been thy service, and so good,Thou needest not our prayers or pitying tears!For death is gain to thee, tho’ loss to allThou leavest here. Thy prayers must plead for them.The orphans’ tears that sparkle on thy pallShall prove on high thy brightest diadem.The dear old heart that loved them now is stilled,The dear old voice they loved is heard no more;She waits afar with ardent yearning filledTo bid them welcome to the eternal shore!Prate not of sculptur’d immortality—Her children’s virtues shall her heart contentIf all who look upon their lives shall seeIn each their Mother’s lasting monument.The old-time friends may leave us, one by one,The ancient landmarks swiftly fade away—The good that Sister Gonzaga hath doneShall live when brass and marble both decay!Then lay her gently down, in peace and trust,Where angel-memories shall guard her bed;Her soul is with her God; her virgin dustSleeps sweetly with Saint Mary’s sainted dead!
Thrice in the rounding of one little year,Saint Mary’s hallowed temple hath revealedAn honored priest reposing on his bier,His pallid lips in icy silence sealed.
Thrice, have regretful tears bedewed the urnWhere sacerdotal ashes were enshrined;Youth, age and ripen’d manhood, each in turn,Unto Saint Mary’s funeral vaults consigned.13
And now, before the fading flow’rs have strownTheir last, sweet, withered petals round the place;Or early snows lie white upon the stoneThat shuts from sight each well-remembered face—
Before the shades of the anointed DeadHave melted from Saint Mary’s aisles away,We hear once more the mourner’s solemn tread—Another saint is here in death, to-day!
Dear Sister Gonzaga! good mother, friendOf Christ’s own little ones—His precious poor!From Life’s beginning to its blessed endThy Words were Wisdom’s, and thy works were pure.
In tender youth, betrothed to thy Lord;For three-score years and ten His faithful spouse,He was thine aim—thy solace—thy reward—Bound to His Sacred Heart by deathless vows!
Toiler of yore with Kenrick, Neuman, Wood,One of our Faith’s first local pioneers!So long hath been thy service, and so good,Thou needest not our prayers or pitying tears!
For death is gain to thee, tho’ loss to allThou leavest here. Thy prayers must plead for them.The orphans’ tears that sparkle on thy pallShall prove on high thy brightest diadem.
The dear old heart that loved them now is stilled,The dear old voice they loved is heard no more;She waits afar with ardent yearning filledTo bid them welcome to the eternal shore!
Prate not of sculptur’d immortality—Her children’s virtues shall her heart contentIf all who look upon their lives shall seeIn each their Mother’s lasting monument.
The old-time friends may leave us, one by one,The ancient landmarks swiftly fade away—The good that Sister Gonzaga hath doneShall live when brass and marble both decay!
Then lay her gently down, in peace and trust,Where angel-memories shall guard her bed;Her soul is with her God; her virgin dustSleeps sweetly with Saint Mary’s sainted dead!
October 12, 1897.ELEANOR C. DONNELLY.
Sister Gonzaga had a countenance of great benignity and firmness. A high forehead, a kindly mouth and eyes which even age was not able to dim. She was ever a model of graciousness and good breeding. The effects of a good education were visible, and the results of a well-balanced and well-trained mind seen in a remarkably accurate and strong memory. The story of her life is well worth the telling, serving as it does as amodel and incentive for those who would be successful in their chosen vocation.
This chapter upon Sister Gonzaga cannot be concluded better than by the presentation of the roster of Sisters of the Satterlee Hospital14. On the 9th of June, 1862, it was as follows:
Preparing for the close of the war. Sisters of Charity in the West enlisted in the military prison at Alton. Smallpox cases removed to an island in the Mississippi. Leaders of the Southern Confederacy realize that their cause is lost. Scenes of wild excitement in Richmond. Blessings for the Sisters.
General Grant, who had been laying siege to Vicksburg, had captured that stronghold on the Fourth of July, 1863. Then came the surrender of Fort Hudson and the battles of Chickamauga, Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge.
Grant in 1864 was made Lieutenant-General and placed in command of all the armies of the United States. Early in May he led the Army of the Potomac across the Rapidan toward Richmond. For six weeks he tried to get between Lee’s army and Richmond without success. In this fruitless effort he fought the battles of the Wilderness, North Anna, Bethesda Church and Gold Harbor, losing 40,000 men. Then he moved his whole army south of the James and laid siege to Petersburg.
The burning of Chambersburg by the Confederatesand the valor of General Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley, with Admiral Farragut’s achievements at sea, completed the notable events of 1864.
In the fall of 1864 Sherman began his march to the sea, which was unique in modern warfare, and was completely successful. The last campaign began in the spring of 1865. On April 1, 1865, Petersburg was evacuated, the Union Army entered Richmond on the 2d. On the 9th of April came the surrender of Lee to Grant at Appomattox, which was the practical end of the war. Long before this the Sisters of Charity felt that their work was drawing to a close. In the meantime, however, their services were being utilized in the West. Colonel Ware, who was then in command of the prisons of that section, applied to the Bishop of Alton, Ill., for the Sisters of Charity to attend the prisoners at Alton. Accordingly, Bishop Yonker applied to the Sister servant of St. Philomena’s School, St. Louis. One of the Sisters was at that time in St. Louis at the Gratiot State Prison Hospital. She received a dispatch from Father Burlando to go to Alton and take with her three Sisters. They started early the next morning, March 15, 1864, and reached Alton in twenty-four hours. There they were met by Father Harty, who conducted them to the residence of a gentleman, a member of the City Council.
Colonel Ware soon called to see them and accompanied them to the prison, which had been formerly called the Illinois State Penitentiary. It had been vacated before the war for a more commodious and healthy locality. Before reaching the main entrance the Sisters had to ascend a very rugged road, well protected by guards. Here a residence would have been provided for them, but theydid not think it safe or prudent to accept it. They passed through the yard, which was crowded with prisoners, numbering four thousand Confederates and one thousand Federals, the latter being confined there for desertion and through follies committed in camp. The two parties were separated, except in the hospital. The poor sick were so delighted to see the Sisters that they could scarcely contain themselves.
It is said that the men died in this hospital at the rate of from six to ten a day. The place was too small for the number of inmates, who were all more or less afflicted with diseases. Some were wounded, other a prey to despondency, typhoid fever and the smallpox; consequently the atmosphere of the prison was very foul. Fortunately the smallpox cases were removed to an island in the Mississippi as soon as discovered. The Sisters made arrangements with Colonel Ware to visit the sick twice a day. As there were no accommodations for the Sisters to remain in the prison they returned to the residence of Councilman Wise, who had so kindly received them in the morning. He could not accommodate them, but procured lodgings for them in the house of his sister, where they remained for nearly six weeks. On their return to the prison the next day the Sisters found written orders from the Government. They also met there the attending physicians, who appeared glad to see them and said that they hoped soon to see an improvement in the condition of the sufferers, who had been heretofore much neglected. The Sisters were informed that four of the patients had died during the previous night. A place was allotted to them to prepare drinks and nourishment for the sick. It was an old workshop, and the floors were in such acondition that the Sisters were continually in danger of falling through. The attendants, who were prisoners, were exceedingly kind and obliging, so much so that they would even anticipate the wishes of the Sisters.
Two weeks had scarcely elapsed before the sick began to improve. The doctors acknowledged a change for the better, saying that there were fewer deaths, and that despondency had nearly disappeared. A look of commiseration or a word of encouragement soon made these poor victims feel that they were cared for at least by the lowly children of St. Vincent. The Sisters visited the Federal Guards Hospital and the smallpox island hospital at the request of Colonel Ware. They visited the Federal Guards Hospital once a day and the smallpox island hospital once a week, but even that consoled the poor patients, as the Sisters provided them with delicacies and nourishment they mostly craved.
On the 1st of May the Sisters took possession of a house belonging to St. Joseph’s, Emmittsburg, that had been previously occupied as a school, but was then vacated. They were now one mile distant from the prison, and an ambulance was sent daily to convey them to and fro.
On July 1 they were notified that their services were no longer required at the prison. They could do nothing until the superiors were acquainted with their situation. Meanwhile the citizens were anxious to have them remain in Alton and convert their house into a hospital. They soon received a letter from the venerated Mother Ann Simeon, giving permission to open a civil hospital for the citizens of Alton. One of the Sisters was sent toSt. Joseph’s Hospital, Alton, to wait on the sick and wounded soldiers from the battle of Winchester. There was one man in the ward who was nicknamed “Blue Beard,” from his ferocious manners and large mustache. He would never ask for anything nor take anything offered to him. One day when he was being urged to take some nourishment he replied:
“Sister, I do not wish for anything that you have. There is only one thing, and that I do not think you can procure for me.”
The Sister inquired what it was and assured him that if it were in her power she would get it for him. He then replied:
“Sister, I should like to have a lily. I think it would do me so much good.”
The wish was a strange one, nevertheless she at once determined to gratify him, which the kindness of a friend enabled her to do. This little act of kindness was not without effect, and from that time the man had a high regard for the Sisters.
At the termination of the war, in 1865, the prisoners received their discharge. It was sad to see the streets of the city lined with the ragged and distressed looking men. The sick were brought to St. Joseph’s Hospital, which was soon filled. The Sisters gave the soldiers the very best attention and consideration, and within a few months the majority of the men were enabled to return to their homes and families.
The little band of Sisters who had been laboring in Frederick City, Md., from 1862 to 1864 certainly did their share in caring for helpless humanity. They were keptactively employed in Frederick City during the summer and autumn of 1862. They found then that their work was not nearly done. The winter set in with heavy rains and deep snow, to which they were constantly exposed. The poor patients had likewise much to suffer from the badly constructed buildings. The wind, rain and snow penetrated through the crevices, leaving the poor men in a most uncomfortable condition. This was called to the attention of the chief surgeon, who immediately gave orders for the dilapidated barracks to be repaired as much as possible.
MULVANEY’S “SHERIDAN’S RIDE.”
MULVANEY’S “SHERIDAN’S RIDE.”
Some of the soldiers were quite amusing with their grateful intentions. A Sister was asked one day whether she ever wore any other color but gray or black, “for,” he continued, “I wish to present Sister Agnes with a new dress; she has been so truly good to me.”
The soldiers seemed to have the greatest confidence in the Sisters, whose advice they preferred before that of the physicians. General Hunter had now received command of the Shenandoah Valley. He visited the hospital and issued an order that all the prisoners should be placed by themselves in separate barracks entirely apart from the Union men. Soon after the United States surgeon in charge of the hospital inspected all the barracks and found one filled with Confederates and with no Sister to take charge of them. The sufferings of these poor men touched him so much that he immediately went to the Sister servant and requested her to send a Sister from a ward of the Union soldiers to take care of the Confederates. The patience of these poor sufferers was the admiration of all. A worthy clergyman once remarkedthat in his visits to the hospital he was always edified by their resignation. He said he had never heard the least murmur escape their lips, and commenting upon this he remarked: “I think the intensity of their pain, both mentally and physically, might, if offered in unison, expiate the sins of their whole life.”
About this time the leaders of the Southern Confederacy began to realize that the clouds were gathering about them and that their cause was hanging in the balance, if indeed it was not already destined to failure. They resolved to concentrate their hospital facilities in and around the city of Richmond, Va. The Sisters who had been doing work upon the various battlefields in the South were summoned to the Southern Capital. The Sisters had served at Harper’s Ferry, Manassas, Antietam, Fredericksburg and White House, Va.
Those who were located in Richmond at this time began to feel “in their bones” that the fall of the city was imminent. They were right. The long expected event occurred in April, 1865. Jefferson Davis, the President of the Southern Confederacy, was at worship in an Episcopal church when he was handed a telegram telling him that Richmond must be evacuated. He presented a calm exterior, but bad news is hard to conceal, and the exact situation was soon noised about the city. The wildest excitement prevailed. Men, women and children rushed hither and thither, knowing not what to do or where to go. Finally their frenzy assumed a decisive shape and a general evacuation of the city began. The Sisters, who constituted the calmest portion of the population, looked on the scene with mild amazement.
The City Councils met and with the general interests of the people in view determined to destroy all the liquor in Richmond. This work was begun at midnight and before the first gray streaks of dawn revealed the terror-stricken city to the public gaze the streets and gutters were running with veritable lakes of whisky, wine and beer. Many of the soldiers and some of the residents balked the good intentions of the Councils by drinking the liquor, and then scenes of drunken revelry were added to the general confusion. Thieves broke loose, houses were robbed, public buildings were fired and bridges leading from the city were destroyed.
Notwithstanding the foresight of the authorities on the coming defeat, its arrival was most appalling. Medical stores, commissary departments and other houses were thrown open. The city was troubled from the blowing up of the gunboats in the river. The Sisters were preparing to go to Mass early in the morning when suddenly a terrific explosion stunned, as it were, the power of thought. The noise of the breaking of windows in the hospitals and neighboring buildings added greatly to the alarm. The Sisters soon learned that the Confederates had blown up their supplies of powder which were very near the hospital buildings; then followed an explosion of all the Government buildings.
After the surrender a Federal officer rode up to the door of the Sisters’ house and told them they were perfectly safe, their property would be respected and that he would send a special guard to protect their house. No resistance was shown to the Union troops. The city was placed under military rule and General G. F. Shepley madeGovernor. One thousand prisoners were found in the city and five thousand sick and wounded were in the hospitals. The prisoners were set free and the Sisters with joy hailed the peace that was once again to dawn on a blood-washed land. They remained in Richmond until the sick and wounded were able to quit the hospitals and then returned home to Emmitsburg, followed by the gratitude and blessings of the men of both armies.
The soldiers who were in the Washington hospitals also returned to their homes impressed with the kindest feelings toward the Sisters. The officers and doctors all concurred in expressing unlimited confidence in them. Printed placards were hung in all the wards, reading: “All articles for the use of the soldiers here are to be placed in the care of the Sisters of Charity, as also papers, books and clothing.”
Early in the summer of 1865 the Sisters took their departure and the hospital was permanently closed. Another hospital in Washington began its operations in March, 1865, and closed in October of the same year. The Sisters were placed in charge, and, since their customs and calling were known, did not experience as much annoyance as in the beginning of the war.
The house was well filled with the sick and wounded. During the month of July the Jesuit Fathers were giving a jubilee at their church in the city of Washington and many of the convalescents attended.
The officers of the hospital expressed much gratitude for all that had been done by the Sisters. The first surgeon was at a loss to know how to put his satisfaction into words, saying that the Sisters of Charity had marvelouslylessened the cares of the physicians and surgeons in all of the hospitals in which they served.
This concludes the story of the work done by the Sisters of Charity of Emmittsburg from the beginning to the close of the war. While they were at work, however, the Sisters belonging to branches of the order and to other orders were not idle, as will be seen by the chapters that follow.
Bishop Spalding sends a letter to General Anderson tendering the services of the Sisters. The offer accepted and the volunteers assigned to work in the hospitals in and around Louisville. “Oh, Sister, put your head down by me and don’t leave me.” The martyrdom of Sister Mary Lucy. Tender-hearted soldiers keep a vigil around the coffin with blazing torches made of pine knots.
The main body of the Sisters of Charity were not alone in their devotion to the sick and wounded soldiers. During the trying days between 1861 and 1865 no body of men or women did more for suffering humanity than the patient, zealous Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, then, as now, of Bardstown, Kentucky. A score of Sisters in that community offered themselves and their services without pay and without hope of earthly reward of any character. It was in the spring of 1861, the opening year of the civil war, that Bishop Martin John Spalding sent a formal communication to General Robert Anderson, of Fort Sumter fame, then in command of the Department of Kentucky, tendering the services of the Sisters of Charityof Nazareth to nurse the sick and wounded soldiers. Their services were willingly accepted, and the understanding was that the Sisters were to work in the hospitals in and around Louisville.
Three large manufacturing establishments in the city of Louisville had been placed at the service of the Government and were being used as hospitals at that time. The rooms were long, and lines of cots extended along each side. The hospitals were divided into sections and each section was placed under the watchful charge of a Sister of Charity. The system that characterized the three establishments was such that no sufferer was neglected or without a nurse. This was in striking contrast with the disorder and lack of system that had prevailed prior to the advent of the Sisters. There were twenty-three Sisters in the three hospitals, in charge of an army surgeon, and they worked faithfully from their entrance into the hospitals until the close of the war, without a cent of compensation.
There had been one battle and several severe skirmishes in Kentucky about that time, and when the Sisters arrived at the hospitals the scene was enough to bring tears into the eyes of the most hardened. A great many Confederates had been captured and were being held as prisoners of war. Within the walls of the hospitals hundreds of Union men and Confederates lay groaning in a common agony. Those that were not mortally wounded and that had not submitted to the amputation of a leg or an arm were raving in the worst forms of fever or had contracted erysipelas, pneumonia and kindred ailments. About it all there was a heroism that was touching, and as the Sisters passed from cot to cot manya soldier suffering with a shattered limb or bullet-pierced body lifted his wan face and gave forth a smile of welcome and of recognition.
The Sisters soothed the restless patients, bathed the fevered brows and moistened the parched lips “with a touch impartially tender.” The attitude of the men themselves was not without interest. Many of them had never seen a Sister before; the majority of them looked upon the Sisters with distrust and suspicion. The change that came in a short while came as actual knowledge comes when it dissipates prejudice and misrepresentation. They could not help but be impressed with the quiet demeanor and the self-sacrifice of the Sisters, and unreasoning dislike and bigotry soon gave way to natural respect and esteem.
But the beauty of the Sisters’ lives, their habit of thinking of all but themselves, had its effect upon many a hardened sinner. Five hundred men died in “hospital number one,” and of that number only one passed away seemingly indifferent to his future.
An incident told by one of the surviving Sisters carries a moral with it. One of the soldiers in the hospital, a Catholic, refused to do anything for the benefit of his soul. His end seemed to be approaching and he was transferred to some other place, where he could be reasoned into submission and repentance. A man who occupied a cot near that of the unrepentant Catholic had heard the Sisters pleading with him. He listened with a thoughtful manner, and when the hard hearted man had been removed, called a Sister to his side. He begged to be further instructed in the Catholic faith. His request was complied with, he was baptized, confessed, received HolyCommunion and finally died a most holy and edifying death.
The parish priests of Louisville and several of the Jesuit Fathers paid regular visits to the hospitals. Each priest came on an average of three times a day, but there was not a moment during the day or night when a priest was not within easy call. The Sisters by their forethought and intelligence made the work of the clergy comparatively easy. A man who desired to be baptized was prepared by the Sisters and ready when the priest arrived. Those to whom it was necessary to administer the last rites of the Church were gradually brought to realize the importance of these rites by these same Sisters. So it was from day to day, from week to week, from month to month. The Sisters were unflagging in their devotion to the men in their charge. They nursed, they prayed, they consoled, in fact, as more than one grateful soldier exclaimed, proved themselves little short of earthly angels.
A pathetic scene took place one day in “hospital number two.” A young soldier, a Catholic and a Scotchman, lay on his death-bed, far from home and family and country, but surrounded by all the loving devotion of the Sisters. He knew that his end was at hand and had been prepared by all of the sacred rites of the Church for his journey into the great unknown. He was slowly expiring from a fatal wound and was unable to move.
In a feeble voice he asked the Sister to hand him a package of letters that he had read over and over again, and which he always kept in view. They were given him and he read them over once again and for the last time. After that he selected several from the package and placing them close to his heart saidslowly, but distinctly: “Sister, leave them here until I am dead. That will not be long. Then send them to my father and mother in Scotland. Tell them that I thought of them until the last. Get the money that is coming to me. Give some of it for Masses for an offering for my soul and forward the remainder to my parents. Now I am ready to die. Good-bye.” With a faint smile he closed his eyes and in a short time the spirit had fled from his youthful body. The instructions were carried out to the letter, as were the last wishes of all the dying soldiers whenever it was possible and practicable. One of the most important tasks of the Sisters was to write to the near relatives of the deceased, giving accounts of their last moments and delivering entrusted messages from the dying.
On more than one occasion the Sisters supplied the place of a mother to the wounded and the dying. Many a pathetic death-bed scene is still fresh in the memory of the now venerable Sisters who have survived those trying times. They were able to repress their emotions in most cases, but there were times when nature asserted itself, and the tears of compassion flowed freely. This was especially the case when drummer boys and buglers—mere children—were brought into the hospitals. In such cases all the tenderness of the Sisters’ gentle natures went out in abundance to the wounded “lambs,” as they delighted to call the young ones. One day three blue-eyed, fair-haired lads in soldier attire were brought into “hospital number one.” They were ill of typhoid pneumonia and they were in an advanced stage, too. They were placed on cots side by side and there they lay for days, uncomplaining and innocent, giving expression to the quaintest thoughtsin the most childish way. They were like brothers, although they were not, and all three were of about the same height and age. The gratitude they expressed to the Sisters was more by their manner than anything they said.
One afternoon one of the three looked up at the Sister who was nursing him, and with a wistful look in his blue eyes exclaimed: “Oh, you are such a good lady; just like my mother to me.” In spite of the care that was lavished on them the three little heroes died, as so many heroes have died—unknown, unhonored and unsung. In the same room another lad of twelve or thirteen, whose life was fast ebbing away, cried out: “Oh, Sister, put your head right down by me and don’t leave me.” The request was complied with, and the little fellow clasped the Sister about the neck and never let go his hold until grim death relaxed it soon afterward. Who could look on such scenes unmoved! Many boys died thus. Death seemed to pluck the choicest and freshest of the earth to make its bouquets during those four fearful years. The Sisters’ care of their “lambs” after their death was as tender and reverential as it had been in life. Their eyes were closed with a prayer, their silken locks parted and their little hands folded as if in supplication to the Divine mercy. Who can doubt but what the blessings of heaven were showered upon these innocent, heroic souls?
The Sisters were “always on duty,” and sometimes the duty was more severe than at others. After great battles, such as Shiloh, the hospitals were hardly able to accommodate the hundreds that were brought there. When the orderlies had performed the first essential service for the newcomer he would be taken in charge by the Sisters.Refreshing draughts and nourishing food were intermingled with the remedies that would be administered from time to time. The ladies of Louisville were frequent visitors at the hospitals, and they brought many delicacies for the sick and the wounded. At length near the close of the war the Sisters were recalled to their home from the Louisville hospitals. The recall came none too soon for the survivors, as they stood much in need of rest and change of air. For nearly three years they had been confined in the close wards of the three hospitals, and this not unnaturally had its effect upon their health. Many of them overestimated their strength and their powers of endurance. Some died in the hospitals, others soon after, at a premature age.
The actual number of Catholic Sisters who laid down their lives during the civil war, that their fellow-creatures might live, will probably never be known, but there is no question that hundreds did so. Their names are not cut upon any earthly monuments, but they are surely emblazoned in letters of gold in the great book of the Recording Angel. The Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, as Mother Carroll could have testified, furnished their full quota of fair martyrs. Many instances have been lost in the long number of years that have elapsed since the closing of the war, but several well-authenticated cases still linger freshly in the minds of those that were witnesses of the great struggle. One of these is particularly pathetic. Sister Mary Lucy, one of the sweetest young members of the Order, richly endowed by nature, was one of the teachers in St. Mary’s Academy, at Paducah. When the exigencies of war compelled the temporary abandonment of this institution, Sister Mary Lucy volunteered as oneof the hospital nurses. She was assigned to some of the severest typhoid cases, and the manner in which she nursed these patients won for her the unqualified praise of the hospital doctors and attendants.
OBSEQUIES OF SISTER MARY LUCY.
OBSEQUIES OF SISTER MARY LUCY.
The post of honor in this instance proved to be the post of danger. Sister Mary Lucy contracted the fever from one of her patients who was convalescent. This was in the latter part of December, during the first year of the war. Despite the best medical attention she rapidly grew worse, until December 29, when she expired as calmly and heroically as she had lived. Her death cast a gloom over the entire hospital, and the soldiers of both armies were filled with admiration and awe at the martyrdom of this gentle soul. They determined that she should be honored in death as she had been in life, and that her final obsequies should be of a character befitting her great merits.
Several files of soldiers marched with muffled drums and noiseless tread from the Central Hospital to the Ohio River, bearing in the midst of them the remains. There the coffin was placed in a gunboat in waiting, which had been especially designated for this service. Then the boat slowly steamed away, bearing its honored burden under a flag of truce to Uniontown, Ky. On landing, the remains were borne to St. Vincent’s Academy, some miles distant, where the Sisters own a considerable tract of land and where they have a last resting place for their dead. Father Powers, at that time pastor of the Catholic Church at Paducah, said the Solemn Mass of Requiem and accompanied the body to the grave and recited over it the last offices of the Church, of which the deceased had been such an exemplary member. A guard of devoted soldiers watched by the coffin day and night from the time it leftthe Central Hospital until the earth covered it from mortal view. At night the tender-hearted warriors kept their vigil around the coffin with blazing torches made of pine knots. Sister Mary Lucy was born in the vicinity of the spot where she was buried. She received her education at St. Vincent’s Academy, became a Daughter of Charity and died in the performance of her duty. This is the short but brilliant life history of one heroic woman.
A letter dated Louisville, February 1, 1862, written by one of the army surgeons to Mother Francis Gardner, contained the following announcement: “I regret very much to have to inform you of the death of Sister Catherine at the General Hospital in this city. She, as well as the other Sisters at the hospital, has been untiring and most efficient in nursing the sick soldiers. The military authorities are under the greatest obligations to the Sisters of your Order.”
Still another conspicuous loss was soon to be felt in the death of Sister Appollonia, the directress of “No. 1 Hospital.” She served long and faithfully in this post and won warm commendation from stern soldiers, who, whatever else their faults, were never guilty of flattery. She was a woman of great executive ability, and was instrumental in causing order to come out of chaos in the hospital over which she presided. Her zeal was great. Not content to direct affairs, she also nursed individual cases. It was while engaged in this work that she contracted typhoid fever, from which she soon after died. She had endeared herself to the soldiers by her kind and motherly treatment of them, and her death caused universal regret.
The manner in which the Sisters were treated by the soldiers had in it a blending of the humorous and the sublime.Those of the Sisters that live to tell the tale say that nothing was wanting in the courtesy with which they were invariably considered by the men of both armies. On Sundays they were given especial consideration. They were escorted to Mass by a military guard of honor, and received the military salute in passing to and fro in the neighborhood of the hospital and the camps. Some of the invalid soldiers imagined that every Sister carried a charm about her, and was thus protected from the contagious diseases that caused such sad havoc among the men. But the supposed charms were not always successful in preventing the Sisters from wearing the martyr’s crown in death. The only charms they carried, as the soldiers soon discovered, were blameless lives, absolute devotion to duty and entire self-forgetfulness.
There was one modest institution near the three large hospitals in Louisville where a great amount of good was done in an unostentatious manner. This was St. Joseph’s Infirmary, conducted by the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth. This was generally filled in war times with wounded officers and other invalids connected with both armies. The good done there, though not quite as conspicuous as elsewhere, was lasting, and bore fruit in after years.
Bardstown occupied successively by the Union and the Confederate troops. Six Sisters start for Lexington under a flag of truce. A courteous letter from Brigadier-General Wood. Ex-Secretary of State Guthrie applies to President Lincoln for protection to the Nazareth Convent. A brief sketch of a famous school and some of its distinguished graduates.
Bardstown, three miles distant from Nazareth Academy, in Nelson County, Ky., was occupied successively by the Union and the Confederate armies. Some hostile engagements had taken place in the vicinity of the town and in the neighboring counties, and as a result the place was kept in a state of feverish anxiety. The victories and the defeats were attended with the usual result, killed and wounded men and sickness and suffering on all sides. Here again the peaceful aid of the Sisters came at an opportune time. Fully aware of the great need there was for experienced nurses, the Mother in charge of Nazareth sent a devoted band of Sisters to the Baptist Female College in Bardstown, which had been temporarily fitted up for hospital uses. On their arrival they found that they had to care for a large numberof disabled Confederate soldiers. They quickly began their humane work and carried it to a successful completion. The Confederates were on the march, and their wounds had to be bound up quickly or not at all. When they had withdrawn from the town, taking with them their convalescents, the Union forces came in. Their sick and wounded were also nursed by another band of the same Sisters at St. Joseph’s College, which was conducted by the Jesuit fathers, but which, of course, at that time was not in educational use. Thus in the midst of civil strife, with the bullets flying thick and fast, did the Sisters work under one flag—a flag that was respected by Northerner and Southerner alike—the flag of humanity.
Some of the episodes connected with the work of the Sisters was of an exciting and dramatic nature. Late one night in September, 1862, twelve Confederate soldiers in their gloomy gray uniforms marched into Nazareth, after a wearisome journey from Lexington, Ky. They were received, as all visitors are, with kindness and hospitality. They came to ask the Sisters to nurse their sick and wounded comrades. The request was granted at once.
“How many Sisters can you spare for the work?”
“Six now and more later, if necessary,” was the prompt reply.
“When will they be ready to return with us?”
“This very night, and at once,” was the incisive reply.
Such promptness was as surprising as it was pleasing to the couriers. That very night six Sisters, without anything beyond the familiar garb which they wore, their usual rosaries and a few books of devotion, started on their mission, ready, if need be, to offer up their lives in what they believed to be the service of God. They proceededon their long journey under the protection of a flag of truce. Resting in a farmhouse one night and in Frankfort, the capital of the State, the next, they finally reached Lexington in safety. In a few hours they were installed in one of the large halls in that city, which had been fitted up for hospital purposes, and without any preliminaries they began at once to minister to the sufferers who were collected there. Later in the same year another band of Sisters of Nazareth nursed the Union soldiers in one of the colleges in another quarter of the city. As far as can be ascertained this was Transylvania University.
Events that took place about that time proved that the Sisters believed no material sacrifices were too great when made in the cause of suffering humanity. In the spring of 1862 General Smith, who was then in command of the Union troops, nearly seven thousand strong, in Paducah, Southern Kentucky, asked the Nazareth Sisters to come to the assistance of the many sick and wounded soldiers scattered about that city. He had been advised to make the request by Dr. Hewit, who had the general superintendence of all the hospitals in that section of the country. Dr. Hewit was a man of great executive ability, who stood in the very forefront of his profession. He had great faith in the ability of the Sisters as nurses. He was a convert to the Catholic Church, and a brother of the saintly superior of the Paulist Fathers of New York city. As no communication could be had with the Mother of the house at Nazareth at this time, owing to the disturbed condition of affairs, the request caused the Sisters some perplexity. Only for a time, though. A conclusion was soon reached. Sister Martha Drury at that time was at the head of St. Mary’s Academy, probably the leading educationalinstitution in Paducah. She resolved to close the schools and go with all of her Sisters to the relief of the soldiers. They went first to the Marine Hospital and then moved to the Court House, which was known as the Central Hospital. Their experiences in this place were similar to those of the Sisters who were engaged in the hospitals at Louisville.
Their greatest difficulty was experienced in caring for those soldiers who were afflicted with contagious diseases. Typhoid and similar fevers held sway in their most virulent form. The havoc that war had made in the human frame was painfully evident in this particular hospital. After the close of the war the Sisters returned to their academy, which exists in the town to-day in a flourishing condition. It will ever remain as a monument to that brave little band of Sisters who gave up their peaceful pursuits to minister to the afflicted, and it will ever be pointed out as the house from which Sister Mary Lucy, the gentle little teacher, went forth to meet her martyrdom a martyrdom as blessed in the sight of heaven as any ever undergone by the saints of old.
The gentleness and devotion with which the Sisters nursed all of the wounded soldiers, no matter what the color of their uniform and regardless of rank, was not unappreciated by either “the boys in blue” or “the boys in gray.” Throughout the whole of the war, with but few exceptions, their institutions, mother houses and places of learning were exempt from the usual ravages of internecine strife. This is especially true of the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth. Being in close proximity to the contending armies and their camps, great apprehensions were felt at one time for the safety of Nazareth. This, too, inspite of the fact that the daughters and other relatives of the general officers of both sides were still pupils in the school. At intervals during the war some of the generals called at Nazareth for the purpose of visiting their children. On these occasions they were always hospitably entertained. Although the Sisters felt comparatively safe, they desired some official assurance of that fact. As is usual in such cases, over-timid persons, generally friends of the pupils, now and then sounded alarms. The following letter, received by the Mother Superior from General Wood, the original of which is still in possession of the Sisters, reassured the community that it need not fear an intrusion of the military into the sacred precincts. General Wood was in command of the Union troops:
“Headquarters U. S. Forces,“Bardstown, Ky., January 20, 1862.“To the Lady Superior and Sisters of the Convent of Nazareth: I have just had the pleasure to receive by the hands of your messenger the very polite and complimentary note of the Right Rev. Bishop Spalding, and I hasten to apprise you that it is my earnest desire and intention to afford you perfect protection and the enjoyment of all your rights both as an institution and as ladies individually. It is my earnest wish and intention to secure you and your ancient institution (which has educated so many of the fair daughters of my own native State, Kentucky), from all molestation and intrusion, and to this end I pray you will not hesitate to make known to me any grievances you may have on account of any misconduct on the part of any officer or soldier under my command. I assure you it will be equally my duty and my pleasure to attend to any request you may have to make. I beg you to dismiss all apprehensions on account of the presence of the soldiery in your sacred neighborhood, and to continue your peacefuland beneficent vocations as if the clangor of arms did not resound in our midst.“I have the honor to be, ladies, your very obedient servant,Th. J. Wood,“Brigadier General Commanding.”
“Headquarters U. S. Forces,“Bardstown, Ky., January 20, 1862.
“To the Lady Superior and Sisters of the Convent of Nazareth: I have just had the pleasure to receive by the hands of your messenger the very polite and complimentary note of the Right Rev. Bishop Spalding, and I hasten to apprise you that it is my earnest desire and intention to afford you perfect protection and the enjoyment of all your rights both as an institution and as ladies individually. It is my earnest wish and intention to secure you and your ancient institution (which has educated so many of the fair daughters of my own native State, Kentucky), from all molestation and intrusion, and to this end I pray you will not hesitate to make known to me any grievances you may have on account of any misconduct on the part of any officer or soldier under my command. I assure you it will be equally my duty and my pleasure to attend to any request you may have to make. I beg you to dismiss all apprehensions on account of the presence of the soldiery in your sacred neighborhood, and to continue your peacefuland beneficent vocations as if the clangor of arms did not resound in our midst.
“I have the honor to be, ladies, your very obedient servant,
Th. J. Wood,“Brigadier General Commanding.”
“Will you do me the favor to send the accompanying note to Bishop Spalding?”
Later on Nazareth must again have been in dread of military trespass, for one of its patrons, Hon. James Guthrie, of Louisville, Secretary of State under a previous administration, applied to President Lincoln for protection for the institution. The President graciously issued the necessary orders, saying that the violation of such orders by any of the commanders would invoke his serious displeasure.
General Smith, Doctors Hewit, Fry, Kay, Austin and the officers of the Union army surrounded the Sisters with every mark of respect and esteem, and they in turn devoted all their energies to ameliorating the condition of the suffering soldiers.
In addition to the labors of the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth already mentioned, they did very effective work in the neighborhood of Owensboro and Calhoun, Ky. At the last-named place the sick and wounded soldiers were quartered in the two Protestant churches of the town. The Sisters entered these places and attended the sufferers there with the same diligence and patience that characterized their work in every other locality. When Sisters had to be removed on account of their own illness, their places were promptly supplied by other Sisters. Reinforcements were on hand to fill every gap in the ranks. As before mentioned, the Sisters of Nazareth neither requirednor received compensation of any sort. The hundreds of brave souls that have passed away since the war have no doubt ere this received their reward in a better world. Dr. Foster, who was engaged in the Louisville hospitals while the Sisters were there, wrote eulogistic articles about them in the Louisville papers at that time, but unfortunately these papers were not preserved.
The famous convent school from which these Sisters came forth to do their great work is worthy of more than passing notice. The organization known as the “Sisters of Charity of Nazareth” was founded by Right Rev. John B. David, D. D., who was consecrated the first Bishop of Bardstown (now the Diocese of Louisville) in 1810. Henry Clay, who knew this good man well, pronounced him “the best representative of royalty off the throne.” The Bishop, with the Right Rev. B. J. Flaget, built the little log cabin near Bardstown which was to be the birthplace of the new order. It was a success from the start. This was largely due to the piety and administrative capacity of the mothers in charge. They were sketched in an article in the “Catholic World” a few years ago. The first of these was Catherine Spalding, a member of the eminent Kentucky family of that name. She held the position of Superior for more than a quarter of a century, and by her great intellect and modesty won the affection and admiration of all with whom she came in contact. On her death, in 1858, she was attended by another distinguished member of her family, Right Rev. Martin J. Spalding. After her came Mother Frances Gardiner, who proved a worthy successor to a worthy Superior.
The last of this notable trio was Mother Columba Carroll, in the world Margaret Carroll. For thirty-five years she was directress of studies and teacher of the first and second classes. In 1862, when the Civil War was beginning to rage fiercely, she was elected Superioress, and for ten years held that position with credit to herself and the convent-school.
While Mother Columba took no active part in caring for wounded soldiers, she was nevertheless the presiding genius of the establishment at that time, and directed the movements of the Sisters with extraordinary tact and good judgment. She held many interviews with persons in power, and thus warded off petty annoyances and troubles. The occasion of Mother Columba’s golden jubilee was celebrated with great fervor by the community on February 22, 1877. A drama, written by Sister Seraphia, entitled “Religion’s Tribute to Our Mother on Her Golden Jubilee,” was performed by the pupils, and was one of the most successful features of an elaborate programme. One of the touching incidents of the celebration was a poem inspired by the venerable Sister Martha, one of the original five that started at “Old Nazareth,” and addressed to Mother Columba. Mother Columba was one of the first pupils under the care of Sister Martha. The following lines from this graceful offering are worthy of a place here: