"Father" Louis de G. Schram (Johnny Morgan Story)"Father" Louis de G. Schram (Johnny Morgan Story)
"Father" Louis de G. Schram (Johnny Morgan Story)
From the first day we enter, we are not allowed to send or receive mail, without it first being censored. This is another manner Rome has of keeping the girls in the convent after they are once there. The practice of censorship of mail is absolutely against the postal laws of the country, but it is done in the convents every day. Why should the postal authorities permit the continuous disregard for the laws? Are the sisters in the convents American citizens and under the protection of the laws of the country, or are they not American citizens? Ifyouwould open mail belonging to some other person, unless you could give a very good reason for so doing, you would find yourself in the clutches of the law, and would have to account to the Federal government. But you never hear of a superior of a convent being held for opening another sister's mail. Why this discrimination? Is it not breaking the law in one instance the same as the other?
While I was in the novitiate, a letter that I had written to my parents, was returned to me by the mistress of novices, with the instruction that I rewrite it and leave certain parts out, as it would cause my people to think that I was not happy. Yes, dear reader, that is it exactly. It did not make any difference how I felt, whether I was happy or not, the fact was that I was in the convent, seemingly, for better or worse. It was the impression I left on the outer world that Rome was most interested in.
The fact of the matter is, that I was not happy and wished to leave, but did not know what to do or where to go. I knew that I would not be welcomed in my own home or among Roman Catholics, and with the bringing up I had received and under the influence of this religious training, I believed it impossible to be saved among Protestants. Several times I made mention of my unhappiness to the Master of Novices in the confessional. He implored me to be faithful and God would reward me, and if I was not faithful there was small chance of saving my soul.
Nearly always after telling the Master of Novices of the unhappiness in the convent, he would, at the next "spiritual" instruction, give us a long talk about girls who had lost their vocation by leaving the convent, and that they nearly all came to a bad end.
My dear reader, you can readily understand why more of these poor, deluded sisters do not leave these institutions, when, from the very beginning these principles are ground in their very hearts and minds until they become as one bound, tied and gagged.
My First Mission
My novitiate training of two years being finished, I was now ready to be prepared to become a "Virgin Spouse of Christ." My "canonical examination" was conducted by "The Right Reverend" Aegedius Jounger, Bishop of Nesqually. This examination was a very private affair. It consisted of rigid questioning in regard to the vows I was about to take, poverty, chastity and obedience, and especially the vow of chastity. I was asked what I understood by the vow of chastity, and if I thought I could keep it through my life. I was also questioned very closely as to my fitness to take a vow of this nature.
I was informed that my examination had been satisfactory, and on the sixth day of August, 1883, I made my profession as a Sister of Charity of Providence, in the convent of that order, the House of Providence, in Vancouver, Washington. Bishop Jounger officiated at this ceremony, assisted by "Father" Schram and several other priests.
This ceremony included the "nuptial mass" which is the wedding ceremony between the novice, or candidate, as the bride, and Jesus Christ, the absent bridegroom. At thisceremony I received my wedding ring (which I have yet) and took the perpetual vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. These three things—the wedding ceremony, receiving the ring and the taking of the vows—made me a "virgin bride of Jesus Christ." The head-gear of the garb was changed at this ceremony of my "religious profession," which was the only difference between the garb of the novice and the professed sister in the order I had entered. I also received my number, 554, which meant that I was the 554th sister to enter that order, and which I kept throughout my sisterhood life. All clothes and articles assigned to us for our use are marked with the sister's number, just as seculars (people of the world) use their names or initials, or the numbering of convicts in the penitentiary.
The following is, in substance, the form of the final and perpetual vows I took:
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. I, Elizabeth Schoffen, in religion Sister Lucretia, wishing to consecrate myself to God as a daughter of charity, a servant of the poor, do hereby make to the Divine Majesty the perpetual vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, under the authority of the General Superior, and according to the constitution and laws of the institute and organization.
"I humbly beg the Divine mercy through the infinite merits of our Lord Jesus Christ, the intercession of His glorious Mother and the prayers of the Patron Saints of this Institute, to grant me the grace of being faithful to these vows of poverty, chastity and obedience; for the dispensation of which I will humbly submit to my Mother General and the Holy Father, the Pope. Amen."
After the taking of these vows, there is more mass during which the act of "Consecration to the Holy Virgin Mary" takes place. I had just been consecrated to Jesus Christ as His virgin spouse, but now I must be consecrated to His mother. Let me say right here that once each year the sisters are required to renew their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, and the act of consecration to the Holy Virgin Mary.
The act of consecration to the Holy Virgin Mary is as follows:
'O, Holy Virgin, virgin among all virgins, and queen of all religious associations, we humbly prostrate ourselves at your feet in order to acknowledge that after God, it is to you, O good mother of ours, that we owe the grace of our vocation—devoted and consecrated in a special manner to the devotion of your sorrows. Being called to take care of your dear Son in His poverty, His suffering and to assist Him when dying, we desire that you make us share in your feelings as a mother. Therefore, please make us partake of your compassion for all the spiritual and physical miseries of the children that you have begotten on the cross. Be pleased to look at us as the daughters of sorrow. Deign to receive us in your most amiable heart—this heart of yours that was pierced with the seven swords of sorrow We willingly love this heart of yours so good. You know the dangers we go through in the exercise of Charity; take great care of us in the midst of our perils, O you who are the helper of all Christians. In acknowledgment of your kindness, we shall work with all our strength to make all people love, serve and glorify thee. Amen.'
Allow me to explain, in a concise manner, the three vows, poverty, chastity and obedience:
By the vow of poverty, I had to give up all the material goods I possessed and all that I ever hoped to possess either by service or inheritance—being guided according to the Lord's counsel, "If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all thou hast and give it to the poor." Even my material body no longer belonged to myself, I was an inherent part of the order. Nothing belonged to me—the clothes I wore, even to a pin, belonged to the community. I had to always say, "This isours," never say "This ismine." If any presents were given to me in any of the work I was to do, I had to turn them over to the superior. Not a minute of time is mine any longer, the twenty-four hours of the day belongs to the community, and if I wish to do anything other than the daily routine, I must be dispensed by my superior.
By the vow of chastity I was forbidden to think of a man or marriage. I was not allowed to kiss and fondle children, especially male children, or to kiss another sister. After a long absence, sisters may embrace and greet each other by rubbing head-gears against the cheeks. I was not allowed to enter the curtained-off apartment of another sister in the dormitory. I was not allowed any more liberty towards even my mother or any of my relatives than I was towards strangers. I may, as my book of rule reads, see them for one-half an hour, upon permission from my superior, and if the time is extended I must be dispensed by my superior for the non-observance of this point of the "holy" rule. Now, when I had this permission to speak to some of my relatives, or some one else, I must never speak in a language not understood by the sister in near surveillance. If these visits occur more than once or twice a year, it is ample ground for humility, and mean, cutting things said by the superior and sisters. This is also a breach of the vow of poverty, as the time spent talking doesnot belong to the sister but to the community. She is told that it is a bad example to others who may wish the same privilege. It is a continual determined vigilance, keeping the sisters from any communication with the outside world. The rule particularly emphasizes that the sisters shall not keep birds or pet animals, as it would take time, which is not hers, and divert her affection which, as a sister spouse, must be given entirely to her heavenly spouse, Jesus Christ.
Another great teaching of this vow of chastity is modesty. A sister is taught to keep her eyes modestly cast down, fold her hands in the big sleeves of her garb when in the presence of the "opposite sex" (as men are called), and never look them in the face any higher than the chin. I tried this teaching for some time, but somehow Mother Nature was still with me, and every once in a while I would take a quick look at a man full in the face to see if he was good-looking, and if I could not see a good-looking man, I would look at the priest to see if he was handsome.
As an example for this virtue of modesty, we were told of the young Jesuit priest, St. Aloysius, who was so good and pure and holy, that he never looked his own mother full in the face.
By the vow of obedience a sister is to yield entire obedience of thought, word and understanding to her superior. The will of her superior must be her will, believing that black was white if the superior said so. Literally, she was like a corpse in her superior's hands, and still a tool to work for the Roman Catholic system. What is worse than mental slavery, the stultifying of all our intellectual powers and bringing them under the despotic will of another, and this behind the prison walls and barred doors of the Romish religious convent?
Obligations to convent life and practices crush all natural instinct. If the sister desires to aim at the high "ideals" taught in the sisterhood, she must abase and humiliate herself. If she has not the courage to make a fool of herself, by abasing and humiliating herself, she must ask her superior to give her some humiliating penance to suppress her feelings of higher nature as proud and coming from the devil. The more sinful and criminal a sister can believe herself in the eyes of God, and the more deserving of prisonlike treatment, and as a worm under the feet of all her companions, the more perfect and saintly she becomes in her own eyes and in the eyes of her superior, who can then use her as a better tool for the benefit of the system.
Any one who knows anything about nuns knows that they are nearly all like children, for under the ironclad, narrow and restricted rule, the sisters retrograde from the day they enter, and as time goes on they become as the rule itself—bitter and heartless, from a sense of morbidness and from the unnatural conditions, circumstances and environment surrounding them. There are the sisters who are childish and silly; others who are the cunning hypocrite. The latter type become the schemers among the sisters for the system, and believe me, they will leave nothing undone to gain favor with the heads of the order and the priests that they might gain some high office for themselves.
For nearly a year after I took my vows, I remained at the Orphanage in Vancouver.
As you already know, I was raised on a ranch, and was accustomed to being in the open air and having plenty of sunshine. These three years of almost complete confinement in this institution, and the long hours of hard, tedious work had begun to tell on my health. And, now as I could hardlyattend to my duties, I was transferred to an Indian Mission at Tulalip, Washington, about June, 1884.
I was at this Mission five years. The first eight months I worked in the boys' department, assisting in the industrial training of about seventy-five Indian boys. The part I had in training these boys was more manual service than real instruction. But my labors kept me out of doors considerably and at the end of the eight months, my health was practically restored.
I was then given charge of the girls' department of the Mission where the work was again very confining.
Imagine, if you can, the terrible conditions I had to contend with at this school. There were about sixty girls, ranging in age from five to twenty-five years. They all slept in one large dormitory with beds so close together, that there was barely passing space, and I occupied one corner of that room. The accommodations for cleanliness were very poor, and the stench in that sleeping room was simply nauseating, and there was no remedy for it, with the existing conditions. In the morning, I had to dress about twenty-five of these girls, and care for the running, mattering sores of many, who were diseased (scrofulous), with an ointment supplied for that purpose by the government physician.
After this doctor had made a few visits and I had become a little acquainted with him, the superior came to me and asked me about our conversation. When she found out that we had talked about some things that were not strictly business, I was not allowed to be in the room when he came again. She told me that I should be very careful around a man, that I might lose my vocation.
I had to take my turn in the laundry nearly every week, and I remember one instance which occurred which will illustrate how the Roman Catholic system makes a "mountain out of a mole hill" and causes so much sorrow over practically nothing. I had damaged a little red-flannel shirt belonging to one of the children, while washing it, and I never heard the end of this terrible thing until after I wrote to my father and asked him to send me five dollars, that I might replace it. A very trivial thing in itself but the superior kept talking about it, causing me very much sorrow and grief that I shed many tears over it.
While I was at this Mission, I received a letter from my father informing me that my mother was very ill, and that in all probability would soon pass away. This letter had been addressed to Vancouver, and my Mother Superior had opened it and knew the contents. When she forwarded it to me, she inclosed a letter to my superior at Tulalip, telling her to tell me that if I could get some one to take my place and get the money necessary for my fare from my father, she would give me permission to go home to see my mother before she died. She knew very well that it was an impossibility to get any other to take my place, as I did not have the assigning of sisters to work of any nature, and none but sisters were allowed in the Mission. The answer was simply that my mother died and I never saw her after the day I left home to enter the "holy" convent.
Again, after four years of confining work in this department of the mission, my health absolutely failed. I asked to be transferred to some other house where I might have a chance to recuperate. About the first of September, 1889, I was transferred to the Indian Mission at Colville,Washington. At this Mission I had charge of the sewing and assisted in the dining-room. The responsibility was much less than it had been at Tulalip, and, having been relieved of this strain, and depressing conditions, I gradually regained my health.
I had now spent a little over six years in Mission work, and being naturally of an active disposition, both mentally and physically, I knew that I could not endure this banishment much longer. I say "banishment" very thoughtfully, for banishment it was. No companions with whom to converse, as the other sisters in these Missions were generally foreigners who could speak very little English, and as for being companions they were little better than no one. Then, the work was very tiresome and monotonous, with no physical exercise attached to it, nearly all being done in a sitting posture, with nothing to use or enlighten the mentality.
So, realizing these conditions, I asked to be given some work of a more active nature. And, about the first of December, 1890, I was transferred to the Sacred Heart Hospital, Spokane, Washington.
I was at this hospital only a short time, but while there I had charge of the laundry, which meant doing most of the work in that department, and also charge of a ward of fourteen patients, regardless of the fact that I had never had any previous experience of this nature. And, believe me, there were many trying, disagreeable experiences both to myself and the sick, due to my being untrained.
I recall one instance when I nearly injured myself for life lifting a patient when I did not know how to handle a person in a helpless condition. My back was crippled forabout a month, but they say experience is the best teacher, and I had had my first lesson of this nature.
A physician had prescribed a seidlitz powder for a patient I was attending, but I had never given one and did not know how to proceed. I asked the sister superior, and then endeavored to carry out her orders. I took two large tumblers half filled with water and a powder in each. Hurriedly I poured the contents of one tumbler into the other and the effervescing saline ran all over the poor man and bed, while he was making desperate efforts to drink a little. All the men in the ward raised their heads to see the experiment and enjoyed a hearty laugh, while the patient received his prescription and a shower bath, both at the same time.
This was one time in my convent life that I received what I had asked for, in fact, it was just the opposite extreme of what I had been experiencing in my previous Mission. I was on my feet from morning till night, and even for recreation and diversion, I was sent to the kitchen to assist in the work there.
St. Vincent's Hospital—Routine of a Sister.
During the spring of 1891, the Province of the Sisters of Charity of Providence of the Pacific Northwest was divided, and by an order from the head Mother House at Montreal, the sisters were to remain in the provinces where they were when the division went into effect. I was ordered to report to the Mother House at Vancouver, Washington. This was in March, 1891. On my way to Vancouver from Spokane, I had to pass through Portland, Oregon, and while there the order went into effect, and the sister superior of St. Vincent's Hospital claimed me as a subject of the Oregon Province.
I was at St. Vincent's Hospital about a month, when I was transferred to Astoria, Oregon, to St. Mary's Hospital, where I practiced on typhoid patients and became more efficient in laundry work, for a little over a year.
In June, 1892, I was missioned to St. Mary's Hospital, New Westminster, B. C. My duties in this hospital were practically the same as in the other hospitals I had worked in.
It was while I was at this hospital that I was sent onmy principal begging expedition. On July fourth, 1892, Sister Ethelbert and myself were commissioned to go north to the logging camps on the islands in the Gulf of Georgia (near Alaska) to secure contributions in the name of Charity for the Roman Catholic Church and to sell tickets for ten dollars each, which would entitle the holder to care in St. Mary's Hospital, New Westminter, B. C., for a specified time.
The hardship and terrors of this trip are indescribable. Crossing the stormy straights in small canoes, camping out at night in the wildest woods, our lives were endangered many times. Arriving at the camps at all hours of the night, tired, wet, cold and hungry; being lifted into bunks by the men when we were so cold, in fact nearly frozen, that we could hardly move; being carried on the backs of the men across muddy and wet places where the water was too shallow for the canoe, or boat, to land. Oh, yes, in the convent we were taught to be so modest—modesty to the very extreme, but it is all right, in the Roman Catholic Church, to send sisters to such places as this, where, as some of the men told me, they had not seen a woman for from three to eight years. It was all right in the Roman Catholic Church because we were getting the money for the fat living of the priests and to enrich the coffers of the Pope of Rome. Believe me, dear reader, no benefit do the sisters ever get from the hardships and indignities imposed upon them on a trip of this nature.
Sister Ethelbert, my companion on the "begging trip" to the Gulf of Georgia, near Alaska. She told me this was her seventh trip to this part of the country on a mission of this nature. She died at the age of thirty-six years.Sister Ethelbert, my companion on the "begging trip" to the Gulf of Georgia, near Alaska. She told me this was her seventh trip to this part of the country on a mission of this nature. She died at the age of thirty-six years.
Sister Ethelbert, my companion on the "begging trip" to the Gulf of Georgia, near Alaska. She told me this was her seventh trip to this part of the country on a mission of this nature. She died at the age of thirty-six years.
At one camp we visited, the men refused to keep us over night, so the men who had rowed us all day, began to row us to the next camp. About ten o'clock in the night, a storm arose, and we had to land, as it was too rough to go farther. The shore space was very limited, as there were huge mountains on one side and the breakers on the other. Dry wood was very scarce so the fire we had was little better than none at all. There were four of us—two sisters and two men—and all the covering we had was one double blanket, with the rough, rocky shore for a bed. About two o'clock in the morning, the storm subsided and we embarked again and continued our journey, arriving at the next camp about four o'clock. Two of the workmen very kindly gave us their bunk, but because of the cold there was very little sleep. When we arose, the Chinese cook took us to the kitchen and had us warm our feet in the large oven. He was a very good and kind sympathetic friend for he looked so sorry for us and said, "You have hard time."
Since I had to go begging, I was very pleased to have Sister Ethelbert for a companion because I knew that she was not a trouble-maker, but a truly good and sisterly person. I had hungered and longed for many years to be with some sister that I could talk with on some other than the written religious subjects and I was sure that this was the opportunity. I tried to talk to her, and she would smile at me, and she tried to talk to me, and I would smile at her. It was very apparent that our vocabulary was very limited and simple, when it came to talking on outside subjects. It was not till some years later that I realized why this condition existed. It was from the long silence and suppression, of not only speech, but our very thoughts, having been in bondage so long.
We were away from St. Mary's Hospital just three weeks and brought back a little over eleven hundred dollars in checks and cash. Is it any wonder that Rome can build such magnificent institutions?
As a result of the exposure and hardships on this tripI contracted sickness from which I did not completely recover during the remainder of my convent life. And oh, if I could only explain what it means to be a sick sister! I was not receiving the proper care, so I wrote to my Mother House, located in Portland, Oregon, pleading that something might be done for me. I waited for three weeks for an answer, but received none. I wrote to my Superior again, and told her that if the community could not give me the care I needed, I would write to my father and ask him to see that I received medical assistance. This was a very bold thing for a sister to do, but I was certainly very sick and little did I care what the community would do to me.
When the Mother Superior received this letter, I was immediately recalled to the Mother House by telegram. I arrived at the Mother House, St. Vincent's Hospital, Portland, on the seventh day of July, 1893.
I received fairly good care for a short time; then I was handed a picture of our suffering Lord, and told by the Mother Provincial, Sister Mary Theresa, to practice resignation and make novenas to this miraculous picture for help. (Novena means nine days' prayer.)
For years I was not sick enough to be confined to my bed, although I should have been there many times when I was drudging away, working for the Church of Rome. A sick sister need not look for any care until she is about ready to pass to the Great Beyond. The climax of my sickness came many years later when I had to submit to an operation.
During the first eight months I was at St. Vincent's Hospital, I had very little use of my left hand and arm.I thought it was partial paralysis. A very prominent physician of the hospital staff, whose name I purposely withhold, diagnosed my case and gave it a technical name, which my unintelligible mind could not comprehend. But in my presence he told Sister Mary Bonsecours, who was my officer and who had received orders to see what the doctor could do for me, that I would never be any better. Nevertheless, he prescribed for me which improved my condition to a certain extent.
In this condition I assisted in the caring of patients, doing the best I could, experimenting, as it were, and learning a little here and there at the expense of the suffering sick. We had no instructors or books on nursing until after I had been there about three years, when we were furnished one book, a manual of nursing, and whenever a sister was lucky enough to get it she would keep it until some other sister would have a chance to "swipe" it. A sister once "swiped" it from me, and it took me eight months to get a chance to "swipe" it back. Also, about this time we were allowed to attend certain lectures given by the staff doctors. One of the "certain" lectures we werenotallowed to attend were those given on maternity, and yet the sisters were held responsible for any errors in caring for cases of this nature. To sum it all up in short, we were instructed to pray that God would bless us and our work and that nothing wrong would happen to the patients.
During the first six years of my experience at St. Vincent's Hospital and after I had recovered sufficiently from my sickness, I was sent to St. Mary's Hospital, Astoria, Oregon, off and on, for short periods to assist in the work there.
In 1895 the new magnificent, six-story brick St. Vincent'sHospital was finished, and we took charge in September of that year.
Here I had charge of ten rooms, and had the serving of two meals daily to the entire floor, which meant about fifty patients, and the only assistance I had was one girl who was neither sister nor nurse, but very good and kind to me. Besides these duties, I had to take my turn in the laundry, do sewing, and above all else, attend to the numberless religious obligations.
In order that you might realize of what these numberless religious obligations consisted, I will here give a program of the daily routine which I had to follow throughout my Sisterhood career:
Rise at5:00 A.M.Morning prayer, followed by meditation5:30 A.M.Mass6:00 A.M.Breakfast7:00 A.M.Spiritual reading9:00 A.M.Examination of conscience11:25 A.M.Dinner11:30 A.M.Beads11:35 A.M.Recreation for one hour beginning at12:00 noonSpiritual reading1:30 P.M.Prostration3:00 P.M.Meditation4:00 P.M.Examination of conscience5:55 P.M.Supper6:00 P.M.Beads6:25 P.M.Recreation for one hour beginning at7:00 P.M.Evening prayer and examination of conscience8:00 P.M.Followed by a visit to the blessed Sacrament in the Chapel.Retire—lights out and silence9:00 P.M.
Caught in the Act of Kissing the Floor, a Very Common Penance for the Sisters in the Order I Was a Member of.Caught in the Act of Kissing the Floor, a Very Common Penance for the Sisters in the Order I Was a Member of.
Caught in the Act of Kissing the Floor, a Very Common Penance for the Sisters in the Order I Was a Member of.
In addition to these, the following must be observed:
Every hour of the day when the clock strikes, each sister must rise to her feet and say, "Let us remember that we are in the holy presence of God. Blessed be the hours of the birth, death and resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ. O my God, I give thee my heart, grant me the grace to pass this hour, and the rest of this day in thy holy love and without offending thee," and one "Hail, Mary."
An hour each week must be spent in the chapel in honor of the Blessed Sacrament.
From fifteen to thirty minutes every Friday evening after evening prayer for the exercise called the "culp," in some orders called "chapter." This exercise consists of each sister kneeling before the superior, and all the other sisters charges her with every mean, contemptible, petty wrong, usually a breach of some rule of the order, which they have remarked in her during the past week. Then the "culprit" so charged acknowledges some of these faults, adds a few more herself, and, kissing the floor, asks a penance of the superior. The superior has the authority to impose any of the accustomed penances.
One Sunday of each month is called "retreat day," which means additional prayer and devotion, that the sister may be fortified spiritually for the next month. During this day there are three meditations in addition to the regular daily routine. Each sister must present herself to the superior to tell her spiritual advancement and the difficulties she has had in the work. Sometimes all the sisters do not have the time to appear before the superior on this day, but she must do so the first opportunity she has during the week, and then it is generally a reprimand for not being there sooner.This retreat day is ended with a long Te Deum, which means a canticle of thanksgiving.
An explanation of some of the daily exercises will no doubt be of interest to most of my readers.
The morning meal is eaten in silence, except on Feast days or unusual occasions. During the noon and evening meal some sister is appointed to read, generally from the "Lives of the Saints" or "Roman Martyrology," narrations very repulsive and revolting to nature. In this manner we mortify the senses. If we wish something passed while we are eating, we make signs for it. Ten minutes is about the time spent in consuming the gout defying food supplied us. There is a dish-pan with about two quarts of warm water in it on the table, and the first sister finished eating has this pan passed to her and she washes her dishes, dries them and places them in her private drawer in the table at her place. From six to ten sisters wash their own dishes in this same water, and no difference if some of these sisters are diseased, as I have seen them, they would be wasting time to make a change of water, and that would be a breach of the vow of poverty. In all my thirty-one years of convent life, I never had a chair with a back to it more than a dozen times in the refectory (as the dining-room is called). It was either benches or stools.
The following will show the spirit in which a sister should receive her food, given at my spiritual instruction during retreat:
MEALS.
"Attention and devotion in saying the prayers before and after meals, eyes modestly cast down, a deep sense of my own misery, a pure intention in this animal exercise. Never to pick or choose of what comes to table. If anything is disagreeable, to thank God for having given me an opportunity of mortification."
According to rule, we are allowed two hours' recreation each day, which, in reality, are about the busiest two hours of the day. Oh, no, Rome does not give her sisters any two hours' real recreation, or rest, during her long hours of labor. Such work as preparing fruit for canning or vegetables for cooking, folding clothes that are often very damp, picking over unsanitary gauze, tearing rags for carpet, picking over feathers from old pillows, and other undesirable work is done during these two hours; and then they say the sisters have plenty of recreation and rest.
At three o'clock every afternoon the sister must repair to some private place for profound prostration. That is, she must kneel and bend forward and say: "Jesus Christ became obedient unto death, even unto the death of the cross. Son of God, dying upon the cross for the salvation of souls, we adore thee; eternal Father, we offer Thee this, thy divine Son; accept, we beseech thee, His merits in behalf of the suffering souls in purgatory, for the conversion of all poor sinners, and of all in their agony." In addition to this prayer, she must say the "Hail! Mary" and the "Our Father" three times each, or remain kneeling the time it would take to say them and meditate on the prayer said. Then, this exercise is completed by kissing the floor.
Three times each day, five minutes is spent in examining our conscience. We write in a little book provided for that purpose, our faults and imperfections. Before going to confession we are supposed to look over this book and in this manner we forget nothing the priest should know.
A bell called the "regulation bell" calls us to each and every one of these "holy" exercises, and no matter whatthe sister is doing when this bell rings, even if a patient is sorely in need of her care, she must stop and go to her religious duties. If she is late to any of them, it means punishment, either by reprimand or penance, or maybe both. My readers can draw their own conclusions as to the care a patient gets from a sister-nurse, when these religious duties comes before the duties of nursing.
One of the great inconveniences and discomforts of a sister-nurse is the clothes which she is compelled to wear. The garb which I wore for thirty-one years weighed about fifteen pounds, and there is no change of weight in this "holy habit" for cold or warm weather. Our petticoats and stockings are the only garments that are changed in weight for the different temperatures. We are allowed two garbs at a time, but a sister wears one nearly all the time until it is worn out. All the cleaning these garbs get is a little brushing with soap and water, and when it gets discolored, it is dyed to its original color. One of these garbs I had for twelve years, and when I discarded it, there was only a small piece of the original left. Think of the cleanliness and sanitation of these poor girls, wearing such clothes, perspiring over the sick, and from cooking and doing laundry work, and even being under the rule of asking permission to take a bath. Over all this when we cared for the sick, we tied a large white apron, slipped on a pair of white sleeves, and then the patients would say, "How sanitary these sisters were." Poor, deluded public; poor, secluded girls; they are not to blame, they do the very best they can under the gag-rule of Rome. Is it any wonder to you that the average sister dies between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-five years, when they are compelled to live in this manner and endure the terrible practices I have mentioned in this chapter?
I Become Superintendent of the Third Floor at St. Vincent's.
In the order of the Sisters of Charity of Providence, the rules restrict the members to certain reading. The books we were allowed to read were those on the Roman Catholic religious practices, such as "Christian Perfection" by the Jesuit, Alphonsus Rodriguez, a set of books on "Meditation" by St. Ignatius, also a Jesuit, a book on the "Conferences of St. Vincent de Paul," a prayer book, a manual of community prayers, and a book of rule. If a sister should wish to read any other books, outside of a few like these I have named, she must have permission from her superior, even to the reading of "The Lives of the Saints."
The reading of secular, or profane, as it is called, books are never allowed under any conditions. No magazines, newspapers or periodicals are they ever allowed to read. If there happened to be an article in some religious magazine or paper that it was decided to let the sisters read, it was cut out and handed to them, hereby having permission to read it. Think of the terrible darkness the poor girlsare kept in, with nothing to develop their mental faculties, nothing to read except the few chosen books, and when you have read one you have read all, and this over and over again, year in and year out.
When I came to St. Vincent's Hospital, I had been in the order about twelve years. Twelve years of almost silence; twelve years of Latin prayers; twelve years of communion and confession; twelve years of Roman convent-slavery; twelve years of retrogression.
I found myself almost lost as to how to talk intelligibly to the doctors and patients. My vocabulary was certainly very limited. I felt the grave necessity of doing something to aid me in my work. But how? That was the great question in my mind for some time. I had been taught that God would punish me if I dared to read anything except what I was allowed. And, believe me, even twelve years' experience in the convent had changed my views of Romanism but very little, if any.
Finally, one day while on the daily routine, a newspaper came to my notice, and I dared to read just one line. I waited a day or two to see if God would punish me. Then, when nothing extraordinary happened, I dared to read a few lines more, and I waited a few days again to see what God would do.
At last the opportunity came. In one of the rooms I found a book, by the name of "At the Mercy of Tiberius." I dared to read it, and oh, how I enjoyed that novel. It was the first book of that nature, profane reading, that I had ever read. But trouble was brewing. Some sister had seen me reading, and although she did not know exactly what it was, she knew that it was not a religious book, andshe reported me to the superior. When the superior asked me about it, I told her I had been reading a book, where it could be found and offered to go and get it for her. But I had her "bluffed" and she told me to never mind.
It took me about six months to read this first book, as I had to steal away and read for only a few minutes at a time. Where do you suppose I went to do this un-Roman, "un-Christian" act of endeavoring to enlighten my mind? In dark closets, bath-rooms, and in fact any place I could secret myself, so I would not be seen by some of the other sisters. For it would mean a reprimand and very often a penance, and the sister thus charged with having broken this point of the "holy" rules, is held under suspicion.
For some time after this it was a problem to my mind as to how I was to obtain other reading. In time I made friends among those who came to the hospital, and very often these good people, mostly Protestant or non-Catholic, would present me with some little token, showing their appreciation of the kindness shown them, as is done to most sisters. Instead of accepting money or other gifts, which by rule had to be turned over to the superior, I would ask them to give me some book, generally leaving the nature of it to their discretion, if I thought I could trust them. Then I would warn them to be very careful when they gave it to me that no sister saw them do so, as it would mean trouble for me.
In this manner I received much good reading, books that were very instructive. When a book was too large to carry around in my big pockets, I would cut or tear off a piece of it, and throw the remaining portion on some old, dusty cupboard in the attic, until I had read the piece torn off, then get a small ladder or box and tear off another piece,and so on until I had finished reading the entire book. One good friend gave me a small dictionary, which was a great help to me. Another gave me a book of word study, which I covered with a prayer-book cover and studied in chapel. This was a case of "Johnny Morgan wasn't here."
By stealing, thieving and lying, so to speak, in this manner I read and studied for a great many years, and I credit my final escape from darkness and ignorance largely to the fact that I had independence enough to read and friends kind enough to give me these books.
During the summer of 1899, I was appointed to the superintendency of the third floor of St. Vincent's Hospital. In this position, which I held for twelve years, I found a few more minutes occasionally to read, and to exercise the little independence I possessed. The result, the more I read, the more independent I became, and this was one of the grave charges brought against me when I was at last transferred, or, I might say, dragged from Portland.
One of the great responsibilities of the office of superintendent was the caring of the priest's apartment which was on my floor. There was the chaplain of the hospital who resided in this apartment, and he nearly always had from one to four "wafer God manufacturers" visiting him, and you may be sure it was not a small care to see that these "gentlemen" had everything of the best, principally in the dining-room. I always had to take particular care to see that there was plenty of cream for their tables when possibly some of the patients had to do without or take skimmed milk, and many times the over supply would sour before it could be used. I just mention cream, but it was the same about many other things, it was always the very best of everything obtainable—cigars and liquors included.Yes, I have carried many bottles of wine to these priests, as well as carrying baskets of empty bottles down the back stairs, that had been emptied by these "holy celibate men of God." A large refrigerator was kept especially for this apartment with a large padlock on the door. It might have contaminated these "holy men of God" if their food had happened to have been mixed with that of a wicked secular, you know.