St. Vincent's Hospital, Portland, Oregon, Where I Served Eighteen Years of My Sisterhood Life.St. Vincent's Hospital, Portland, Oregon, Where I Served Eighteen Years of My Sisterhood Life.
St. Vincent's Hospital, Portland, Oregon, Where I Served Eighteen Years of My Sisterhood Life.
Another very interesting feature of this new office was the care I had to give sick priests. There was nearly always some priest occupying a private room on my floor, sometimes sick, as they are only human and susceptible to the same ills as others, but many times on "sick leave," in other words, just plain drunk. Many times they would stay with us a month at a time, and once I remember, one made a nice long stay of a year, or more, but he was not drunk. I had to help these "gentlemen" many times, when they were much more able to help themselves than I was. But I was a woman, "a spouse of Christ," and these so-called men were the "representatives of Christ," and that made the difference.
Soon after I had received the appointment of officer of the third floor there were many complaints from the patients and physicians about the food and the manner in which it was prepared. So it was decided that some of the sisters should go to a cooking school which was being conducted by a woman by the name of Miss Porter, in the Exposition Building, Nineteenth and Washington Streets. I happened to be one of the chosen number, and we took a series of twelve lessons, principally on preparing dainty dishes such as could be used for the sick.
After I had completed this course, I was appointed toteach cooking to the nurses in the training school and the young sisters in addition to my other duties. I conducted this class from two to three-thirty in the afternoon.
Our rules prescribe that the hour from two to three be observed by profound silence, and also that no sister shall partake of any food outside of the dining-room without special permission from the superior. During the teaching of this class on cooking, I was compelled to talk to the sisters, and it was also quite necessary that they should talk to me, in order that they could get the proper instruction. When they would cook some dish I would request them to taste it, that they might judge for themselves as to the seasoning. These were serious breaks of the rules, and it caused trouble for me after I had been instructing the class about six weeks.
My young sister pupils plotted with the superior to cause my removal, and wrote to the Mother Provincial, Sister Mary Theresa, who was at that time in Oakland, California, instituting a new house of the order. Sister Mary Theresa did not write to me about the matter, but took it up with my superior, who came to me and said that there was so much complaint about me causing the sisters to break the rule that she would have to change me. She was going to take the superintendency of the third floor away from me and send me to the basement to the fruit cannery to teach cooking. I told her that I could not do that. I had learned how to cook because she had wanted me to, and that if I was going to teach it, I was going to teach it right; and if she would delegate some other sister, I would teach her all I knew about cooking and I would be through with it. But she did not want me to do that, she wanted me to keep the class.
I had done the very best I could with the class, and all this trouble was caused, not because I was unsuccessful, but because the sisters broke some of the rules of the order, which could not be avoided if they wished to learn. The action of the superior had caused me much distress, both of heart and mind, and with the assistance of two stewards of my floor, I placed all the cooking utensils and supplies of the school in a large box and sent it to the superior's room. For weeks she tried to prevail upon me to take the school back, but I refused to have anything more to do with it.
This instance may not be very interesting to my readers, but I relate it to show how little petty happenings cause so very much trouble, and very often serious trouble for the poor girls in these institutions. There are many more instances of this nature I could relate, but I do not care to burden you with them. My action in this little matter caused me to be looked upon with great suspicion and a certain amount of contempt from the other sisters. It was this sort of treatment that caused me to write notes of the cruelties I, with other sisters, had to endure. I expected to give these notes to some trust-worthy friend to read after my death, but for some unknown reason I kept them and have them at the present time.
About this time, also, I had a class of about twenty young sisters to whom I taught what nursing I had acquired, principally from experience. This was soon abandoned, for the reason that it interfered with evening prayer and retirement at nine o'clock, the only time that could be found during the day to hold the class.
Of all the superstitious and pagan practices that enforces the vow of obedience, is the traditional exercise of penancesor penalties. The most inhuman, unjust, humiliating and very often torturing punishments are imposed upon the sisters for breaking any of the many childish rules—rules that just as really and truly bind the poor victim as though she was a criminal in the penitentiary.
A sister is only human. The "holy" black garb she wears does not change her. She is subject to the same sorrows, the same joys, the same love, the same hate, the same humility, the same pain as you. But here in these hellish, soul-destroying institutions, walled high "to keep the Protestants out," they say, there is a system in vogue that holds women in servitude—yes, slavery—and for failing to heed the "voice of God," which is the voice of the priest, or superior, or the toll of the religious bell, or the observance of the book of rule, there is a penalty imposed, penalties such as will torture or humiliate the poor subject.
Some of the torturing penances are the wearing of the armlet—a chain with little prongs on it to prick the flesh; the scourging of the bare body with the "discipline" or cat-o'-nine-tails—constructed of heavy, knotted cord; kneeling and praying with arms extended in the shape of a cross; and the wearing of the chastity cord—constructed of heavy, knotted cord. This practice ties up our virtues and keeps us chaste and pure.
Some of the humiliating penances are the kissing of the floor many times a day, kissing the feet of our companions, fasting, silence, eating off the floor, and many other little, petty practices and self-denials too numerous to mention.
Think of it, a system here in free, Protestant America, in this day of advanced civilization, holding women in subjection and demanding practices of this nature!
To illustrate the teaching of this system in regard to penances, I wish to quote from "St. Rita's Prayer Book," compiled by Rev. Chas. Ferina, D.D., and this publication has the imprimatur cross of John M. Farley, then Archbishop elect of New York. On pages 35-36: "She (St. Rita) renounced her property in favor of the poor, renounced every earthly tie to devote herself entirely to austere penance. She professed to have no compassion for her body. She scourged herself thrice every day, the first time being the longest and the instrument composed of little iron chains. Vigils, hair-shirt, the discipline, and rigid fasts were the arms used to afflict her body, knowing that penance is the only means of expiation and salvation for fallen man, although our material age would utterly ignore it. In changing her costume Rita had no need to change her habits, for, as we have seen, as a girl, a wife and widow, she had ever led a stainless life. Her aim now was to attain the height of perfection. But amidst her penances, she had the sweetest consolations; and during her lengthy prayers, her fervent colloquies with God, her daily and nightly meditations on the passions of our Lord Jesus Christ, rapt in her Creator, her soul totally absorbed in Him and almost detached from her body, experienced heavenly delights."
I have previously mentioned that I was compelled by rule to go to confession every eight days. I wish to comment on this Sacrament of Penance, as confession is called, and some of the other practices and ceremonies of the Roman Catholic religion.
Of all the practices that holds adherents to the Roman Catholic system, the telling of the many faults to the so-called mediator between God and man—the priest—stands paramount. Why not? Roman Catholics are raised to think and believe that by confessing their sins to the man representative of Christ in the confessional and receiving absolution, God has also forgiven them. God's Word says in 1st Timothy, second chapter, fifth verse, "For there is one God, and one mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus." Not any representative of Christ, but Christ Himself.
The confessional box is a trap for the convent, and after the poor girls are once there they are shackled more than ever in the faith of the religion by the priest in the confessional. The girls abandon themselves, body, heartand soul, to the instructions and directions of this ungentlemanly man—for no true gentleman would ever ask the dirty, filthy, indecent questions in public or private that these men ask many of the girls and women in this so-called holy private place, the confessional—this man, whom we, as sisters and Roman Catholics look to as the mediator between us and God, often in the form of a drunken man. Yes, I have known not a few, and have waited on them in my work at the hospital for a great many years, and I cannot call to my mind one of these "holy men of God" who did not partake of the best liquors obtainable, and I have had to protect more than one from the people there so there would be no scandal.
Then to these liquor-soaked priests I was forced to turn and kneel to confess my sins, to lay bare the innermost thoughts of my soul and most sensitive feelings of the heart and then submit to the most humiliating, shameful questions—so shameful and degrading that I am not permitted to print them or to repeat them.
The priest is the sister's only confident—she must talk to him on subjects that she would not tell her mother. He is to her what Christ would be if He would come from Heaven and sit there with her. He is her justifier, as she is absolutely in his wily meshes and victimized in his hellish power—for nothing less than hell on earth is the confessional to sisters. It is the destroyer of womanly purity, womanly refinement—destroying the higher instincts and ennobling qualities. A sister does not talk in the confessional of what is best and noblest in her, but is racking her brain all week preparing and gathering everything that is mean, low, degrading, contemptible—digging up secret things to tell and talk about to the priest. The thought ofhaving to stoop and grovel so low and worm-like is sickening, not only soul sickening, but often agonizing physically to the extreme, in the act of ejecting and getting rid of a vast amount of much imaginary wrong and scruples. It keeps the mind poisoned and enslaved in the powers of darkness, busily endeavoring to become sanctified on the mistaken road of pagan degradation, dispair and hell.
A form of beginning and finishing confession. This is precisely the same form I used all my life in the church of Rome, but I will copy from Deharbe's Catechism, translated from the German by a Father of the Society of Jesus, of the Province of Missouri, published by Benziger Brothers, Printers to the Holy Apostolic See, and with the Imprimatur of John Card. McCloskey, then Archbishop of New York. Page 110, question 55:
"How do you begin Confession?
"Having knelt down, I make the sign of the cross and say: 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I confess to Almighty God, and to you, Father, in His stead, that since my last confession, which was ... I have committed the following sins.' (Here I confess my sins.)"
Question 56. "How do you conclude your confession?
"I conclude by saying, 'For these and all my other (P. III) sins which I cannot at present call to mind, and also for the sins of my past life, especially for ... I am heartily sorry. I most humbly ask pardon of God, and penance and absolution of you, my Ghostly Father.'"
Question 57. "What must you do then?
"I must listen with attention to the advice which my Confessor may think proper to give me, and to the Penancehe enjoins; and whilst he gives me absolution I must excite my heart to true sorrow."
Now, if the priest is good and kind enough to say the magic words, "I absolve the, etc." and absolve the penitent, he is just as pure and free from sin, according to the Roman Catholic belief, as if he had submitted to baptism, and he can go and sin again, so long as he will return to the priest for absolution.
Jeremiah J. Crowley, in his book, "Romanism—A Menace to the Nation," tells of the "moral theology" which the priests have to study to become priests, and which I think will interest my readers. Mr. Crowley was a priest in the church of Rome for twenty years.
Page 74. "Moral Theology of the Roman Catholic Church, printed in Latin, a dead language, containing instructions for auricular confession, is so viciously obscene that it could not be transmitted through the mails were it printed in a living language; neither would priests and bishops dare to propound said obscene matter in the form of questions to female penitents if their fathers, husbands and brothers were cognizant of the satanic evils lurking therein; in fact, they would cause the suppression of auricular confession by penal enactment.
* * * Confessors search the secrets of the home, and so are worshiped there, and feared for what they know.
(Page 76.) "If it is the purpose of state or government to prevent crime and eradicate its causes, the whole of this diabolical system called the Confessional, which is known to worm out the secrets of families, the weaknesses of public men, and thereby get them under control—to either silence them or make them active agents in theRoman Catholic cause—above all, the debauching of maids and matrons by means of vile interrogatories prescribed by Liguori, and sanctioned by the Church—should be abrogated by a national law in every civilized country on the globe."
While I was a novice, the Master of Novices in his religious instructions to the novices, told us that the worst Catholic stood a better chance of saving his soul than the best Protestant, because the Catholic, no matter how many or grievous the sins he might commit, could confess them to the priest and be forgiven; while the Protestant, though he might be a very good man, had no priest to confess his sins to, and cannot be forgiven. Therefore, he dies in sin, as every man is sinful, and is lost, for the Scripture says, "Nothing defiled can enter Heaven."
Three things are necessary for absolution—contrition, confession and penance. Of course, the priest pronounces the words of absolution before the penance is performed, but the remission of the sins confessed is not complete until the penance is performed. Every sin must be confessed to the priest, the most secret and grievous, or there can be no remission, according to the Roman Catholic teaching.
With these teachings and this papal practice of confession you can readily understand how this one sacrament of the Roman Catholic Church, more than any other binds the people to it. Let me say as Mr. Crowley said to the American brothers, husbands and fathers who have sisters, wives and daughters being entrapped in this terror of all terrors, the confessional—get educated on this subject. And let me say that when you do, if there is any manhood in you, the confessional in the Roman Catholic Church will cease.
"Mass is the perpetual sacrifice of the New Law, in which Christ offers Himself in an unbloody manner, as He once offered Himself in a bloody manner on the Cross." (Deharbe's Catechism, page 98.)
To hear mass, we are witnessing in a sort of "mummyfied" manner, a show at the altar, which is lighted with candles, decorated with flowers, costly images of the Blessed Virgin Mary and Saints, holy pictures, relics of the saints, gold or silver ciboriums and ostensoriums, and many other articles of altar and sanctuary use too many to enumerate.
During this or other ceremonies, the priest is dressed in a long oriental robe covered with a kimona-style surplice—which is often nearly all costly lace—chasuble, cope, maniple, stole, mitre, and other gaudy-colored, gold-fringed, embroidered pieces of apparel.
The mass must be recited in Latin. The priest at the altar with his back to the congregation, recites Latin prayers for from one-half to three-quarters of an hour. During these prayers the act of "transubstantiation" takes place. That is, the changing of the wine and bread into the actual body, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ. That is the actual belief of the Roman Catholic adherents, as in the creed of Pope Pius V, it says, "I profess, likewise, that in the Mass there is offered to God a true, proper and propitiatary sacrifice for the living and the dead; and that in the most holy sacrament of the Eucharist there is truly, really, and substantially the Body and Blood, together with the soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ; and that there is made a conversion of the whole substance of the bread into the Body, and of the whole substance of the wine into the Blood; which conversion the Catholic Church calleth Transubstantiation. I also confess that under either kindalone Christ is received whole and entire, and a true sacrament." (Chamber's Ency., Collier 1890, under Roman Catholic Church.)
To receive communion, the sisters in the convents where I have been, marched to the altar by twos, knelt and received the "body of Christ," but never the "blood." No one is allowed any of the wine, or "blood," except the priest or "substitute Christ."
If, during this ceremony, a crumb of the "body of Christ" should happen to drop on the communion cloth, that spot must be marked, and after the ceremony is completed, the priest sprinkles some "holy water" on the spot, says a few Latin words, makes a few signs with his "holy hands," then it is purified, and whatever is used in this purification is burned, or sometimes washed. The Corporal, which is a piece of linen used for handling the "body and blood of Christ" in the mass, must always be washed or rinsed by the priest before it goes to the laundry, because the sisters who do the work in the laundries have not "holy hands," and the priest's fingers have been consecrated and are therefore "holy."
In speaking on transubstantiation, William Cathcart, in his book, "The Papal System," says (pages 170-171), "The priests scorn the idea that there could be any figure in the declaration: 'This is my body,' but when Paul says: 'For as often as you shall eat anddrink the chalice,' they must grant that it is not thechalicebut itscontentsthat are to be drunk. If it is not a figurative expression, the priests of Rome should swallow the cup as well as the contents. The words, 'I am the vine, I am the door,' are literal if the expression is not figurative, 'This is my body.' No community would suffer more than the Catholic Churchfrom a non-figurative interpretation of every scripture word. In the Catholic New Testament, Matt. xvi. 22, 23, it is said: 'And Peter taking him began to rebuke him, saying: 'Lord, be it far from thee, this shall not be unto thee'; who turning said to Peter: 'GO BEHIND ME, SATAN, THOU ART A SCANDAL UNTO ME, because thou savourest not the things that are of God, but the things that are of men.' If the words, 'This is my body,' must be taken literally, we would mildly insist that Christ's address to Peter shall be taken literally too when He said to him: 'Go behind me, Satan, thou art a scandal unto me.' According to that interpretation, Peter is the chief of devils, and the Church of Rome, built on Simon, is founded on Beelzebub himself. A literal interpretation of the words, 'This is my body,' leads to sacred cannibalism; and of the saying in Matt. xvi. 22, 23, makes Peter the devil, and Lucifer the foundation of the Papal Church. A figurative view of both passages is the true one."
"Extreme Unction is a Sacrament, in which by the annointing with holy oil and by the prayers of the priest, the sick receive the grace of God, for the good of their souls, and often also of their bodies." (Deharbe's Catechism, Page 114.)
Extreme Unction is commonly known as the Last Sacrament of the Roman Catholic Church. It is administered only when there is danger of death.
I often had to prepare the dying for this sacrament. The articles used were a crucifix, holy water, lighted candles, a piece of bread, and five "wads" of absorbing cotton. The priest would come, unwrap his silk bag containing the holy oil (chrism), dip the cotton in the holy oil and apply tothe parts of the body where the five senses are located—the forehead, to cleanse the mind of the sins of thought; the eyes, for the sins committed by the sight; the mouth, for the sins of speech; the ears, for the sins of hearing; and the hands and feet, for the sins of feeling. The last members of the poor suffering, I often had a difficult time to get handy for the priest to apply his chrism, particularily in paralysis or accident cases. During all the ceremony the priest is reciting Latin prayers.
The piece of bread is for the priest to cleanse his fingers after the ceremony. It must be destroyed, together with the cotton used, by fire so that no particle of the holy oil will be desecrated.
This sacrament is supposed to help the soul of the person receiving it to heaven, but it does not keep him from the torments of purgatory.
Before a person is entitled or can accept this sacrament he must be baptized in the Roman Catholic Church. The sisters in the hospital must do all in their power to convert Protestants to the Roman Catholic faith before death. I was instructed that I was not a secular nurse, but a religious and Sister of Charity, and as such it was my duty to convert all Protestants and non-Catholics possible.
I remember one very interesting case of this kind that happened soon after I went to St. Vincent's Hospital. My officer, Sister Mary Bonsecours, requested me to go with her to a room occupied by a Methodist lady who was dying, and she would show me how to make converts. In addressing the lady, among other things, she said that the Roman Catholic Church was the only true church. All who were not baptized in it would not be saved and would surely never see God. The lady simply remarked that she wassatisfied with her religion. About the third time I accompanied the sister to the lady's room, she was passing into the last agony, and the sister leaned over her and shouted into her ear that her soul was going to hell forever for not being a Roman Catholic. That is the manner in which many of the sisters endeavor to obtain the patient's consent for baptism into the Roman Catholic Church, and if they are yet rational, they are entitled to the last sacrament, Extreme Unction.
A very convenient practice for the Roman Catholic adherents is that of gaining Indulgences.
"An Indulgence is a remission of the temporal punishment due to our sins, which the church grants outside of the Sacrament of Penance." (Deharbe's Catechism, Page 112.)
"Can Indulgences be applied also to the Souls in Purgatory?"
"Yes, all those which the Pope has declared to be applicable to them." (Deharbe's Catechism, Page 113.)
"Temporal punishment due to our sins" is that which we have to suffer here on earth or in purgatory. This includes the penance imposed upon the penitent by the priest after confession. If the penitent is truly contrite for his crime, the priest has the privilege to relax the penance and grant indulgence, that is, he cannot be granted indulgence unless he is in a "state of grace," which is after having confessed and having been absolved, and fulfilled the requirements of the absolution.
One of the means of gaining indulgences for the sisters was the saying of short prayers, for each one said, so many days indulgence being gained. For instance, for saying:
"My Jesus, mercy! Mary, help!" 200 days' indulgence.
"Sweet Heart of Jesus, be my love." 300 days' indulgence.
"Sweet Heart of Mary, be my salvation." 300 days' indulgence.
If we should have some friend or relative dead whom we thought was in purgatory, we could offer these prayers, with many others, for them and in that manner shorten their days of torment in that middle region, as well as shorten our own sufferings there.
Once each year every sister is required to spend eight days in what is called "annual retreat." That is, eight days' religious exercises and spiritual instructions by a priest—generally a Jesuit priest in the order I was a member of—conferences, the performance of penances, etc.
The priest gives five spiritual instructions each day of this retreat, each one lasting about an hour. We must keep absolute silence during these eight days, except to speak to the Mother Provincial on our shortcomings and to the priest in confession. At this confession the poor sister is supposed to tell all the wrongs and sins committed during the past year, and hours are spent in preparing and waiting, kneeling outside the confessional box, crouching in fear and trembling, hoping and praying that she may escape some of the indignities of this terrible exercise.
At these "retreats" the sisters were allowed to take notes of the spiritual instructions, and I will copy from some of the notes I took. These instructions were given by "Father" McGuckin at the Mother House at Vancouver, Washington, on the subject of "Poverty."
"It is not according to the spirit of poverty if we think we must require a remedy for every little ache or suffering or pain. We must bear those things with Christian fortitude without a remedy or alleviation. We must not make a superfluous use of things, even of things we are allowed to have for our use of necessity. If we have things that we are attached to, we should take them to the superior, even if she should make us take them back, then we have made the sacrifice, and God accepts the will for the deed.
"Why deprive ourselves of that merit? There is nothing small in regard to poverty, even to a piece of thread. We cannot be too scrupulous in detaching ourselves from the world and ourselves.
"The things of the community do not belong to us and we have no right to anything at all nor to dispose of anything—everything belongs to God and should be used as such and taken care of just the same as the sacred vestments. We have no right to make any agreements with any person in the world, where we, personally, would have any responsibility, for we have nothing and it would be shifting the responsibility upon the community.
"We cannot accept a present for ourselves without permission, but we can and ought, whenever no condition is expressed, with the intention to give it to the superior to dispose of for the congregation. We must never refuse an offer when it is for the congregation. It is our duty to accept and let that person do his good work. Every congregation is generally or always in need of means to perform good works. Let everybody contribute to good.
"We must do our work with anxiety or solicitude, doing our best. Cast your care on the Lord and He will take care of you."
In this chapter I have endeavored to explain some of the many practices and ceremonies of the Roman Catholic system, as I have found that there are very few Protestants who understand the import of these in the Roman Catholic religion.
The Roman Catholic definition for "ceremonies of the Church," is "Certain significant signs and actions, ordained by the Church for the celebration of the Divine Service." (Deharbe's Catechism, Page 127.) So you see that these various ceremonies must be observed by the Roman Catholics because the church says so, not that Christ instituted any such practices while He was here. And, whenever theChurchwishes, she can add a few more to her already long list of ceremonies, and the Roman Catholic must believe in it and practice it, or he cannot continue to be Roman Catholic.
The sisters of the order to which I belonged were given a visit to the Mother House in Montreal, Canada, once during their sisterhood life, providing they could outlive their turn, as the older sisters came first. This was a great privilege for the sisters, an opportunity to drink deep in their souls the spirit of "holiness" emanating from the saintly sisters who had been spiritually formed and perfected in conventual practices—the Mother Foundresses of the Order.
I will now tell you how I received this privilege.
My father died in 1896, and when his estate was settled I received $500.00 in cash. It was understood long before this between the sisters and myself that when he died, if I would receive anything from him, I would pay my dowry of $300.00 to the community. Out of the $500.00 I received from him, I paid my promised $300.00 to the community, and placed the remaining $200.00 on deposit at St. Vincent's Hospital for safe keeping, as I had promised it to the Abbott of Mt. Angel College for the education of a nephew of mine.
While this money was on deposit at the hospital, the Superior General, Mother Antoinette, tried to induce meto take my trip to the Mother House. There were several sisters who wanted the office I filled at that time, superintendent of the third floor, and they also thought it was a good time for me to go on this trip. I could see that it was the $200.00 and my office they were after, so I refused to take the trip at that time.
A few years later, 1907, Sister Rita and myself decided it was then time for us to go to the Mother House, so we began to plan in order that we would not be refused when we asked permission of the Superior General, Mother Antoinette.
Sister Rita had been at the hospital all the years I had been there, and we had become very friendly and chummy—that is, as friendly and chummy as sisters can be. We had agreed not to make trouble for each other by telling tales to the superior, and this agreement made it possible for us to come together on some common, sisterly interests with just a little less suspicion. So, on account of this friendly feeling, and because we could talk on a few subjects other than theSainte Viergeand miraculous medals, we were determined to take the trip together.
We made our desire known to one of the leading doctors of St. Vincent's Hospital, whose name I purposely withhold, and he promised to see the officials of the transportation companies, and arrange, if possible, for our transportation. He returned with a very favorable report, and then we asked Mother Antoinette for the permission to go to Montreal, which was granted. Our doctor friend told us that we should visit New York while in the East, and asked us if we would go if he would get transportation. We told him we certainly would if we could get the consent of the Superior General. He informed us a little later thatarrangements had been made for the trip to New York. He then suggested that we should return by way of the South, but we feared that we could not get the consent of the officer of the order. Mother Antoinette did not care about giving us the permission to take the trip to New York and through the South, but she knew that the transportation had been arranged, and that Sister Rita and myself were popular with the patients and doctors at the hospital, so she consented, fearing that if she did otherwise it would injure the interests of the institution with the business people and doctors of Portland, who were our friends.
As soon as our many friends learned of our plans to go East, they very readily came to our rescue with money for our berths, meals and other expenses while stopping at the various cities we expected to visit. One very good friend of Sister Rita's gave her a check of $200.00. She also had some money from her relatives and friends. I had received some money from relatives and from my friends, and this, together with some "Johnny Morgan" money made several hundred dollars we had between us. I had heard of sisters taking trips East with the so-called "Johnny Morgan" money, and I had also seen one of the superiors of St. Vincent's, Sister Frederick, send presents which had been given to me and been turned over to her by me as our rule prescribes, to her people in Canada, so I decided to use my "Johnny Morgan" teaching now, and I found it very handy. A nurse friend who had trained at St. Vincent's presented each of us with a very fine Japanese suitcase, so we were well equipped for our journey.
I had been sick for a long time before this, several times sick enough to die, and Sister Rita told me that she was almost afraid to go with me for fear that she would have to bury me on the way. I told her not to worry about me;that if I died to see that I was put under ground, and say, "Good-bye, Lucretia," and go on with the journey.
On the evening of June third, 1907, we were prepared to start and were met by a few friends at the Union Depot, who presented us with dainty lunch baskets with enough good things to eat until we arrived at Chicago, our first stop.
We were met at Chicago by some of my relatives, Mr. and Mrs. Gorman, who entertained us during our stay of ten days. I had a relative in the Notre Dame Convent, whom I visited while there. Her sister, a married woman, asked me if I could do anything for her sister's (the nun) sickness, which I found to be nervousness. I told her the best thing to do for her was to take her out of the convent and let her live like other people live.
The next stop was the Mother House, Montreal, Canada. This building was an immense, dark stone structure, six stories in height, a sure enough penitentiary-looking Roman fortification. The walls of this enormous building encloses a large novitiate, which has about one hundred novices most of the time; large dormitories for the sisters, some of them fitted to accommodate forty, and dark except when lighted by artificial light; a printing plant operated by the sisters, used to print the books and other literature for the many houses of the order; sewing rooms, where clothes are made for the novices in the novitiate and other inmates of the Mother House; a department where the sisters make slippers for the inmates of the house; a chapel, community room, large kitchens, dining-rooms for the chaplain and sisters, bakeries, an infirmary and operating room, and in fact a department for nearly everything used for the sisters in this institution.
Head Mother House of the Sisters of Charity of Providence, Montreal, Canada.Head Mother House of the Sisters of Charity of Providence, Montreal, Canada.
Head Mother House of the Sisters of Charity of Providence, Montreal, Canada.
Most of the professed sisters at this house are those who have passed their years of usefulness in the work done by the order, such as hospital work, teaching, orphanage, etc., or are sickly sisters who cannot do the outside work. There are always several hundred sisters at the Mother House sent from the numerous houses of the order from all over the country, many of which pass their few remaining years in solitude.
There are about six sisters who attend to the business of this house, which is the head of all the different houses of this particular order, and all reports must be made to the head sister, who is called the Mother General.
During our visit there, we were accompanied by two of the holy Maison Mere (Mother House) nuns to an iron vault, to gaze upon and venerate the fleshy heart of the Bishop Founder of the order, Monseigneur Ignase Bourget, which was there preserved in about two quarts of alcohol. We were told by the accompanying sisters that every year on Monseigneur Bourget's feast day, this heart turned to its natural blood-color.
This Bishop was the Christ representative who said to the five foundress sisters who first came to the Northwest to build prison convents here: "Go, my daughters! Fear nothing—I send you in the name of the Sovereign Pontiff. Multiply yourselves to the greater glory of God." (Nov. 1st, 1856.)
We also had the privilege and honor of joining in a novena prayer for the cure of a crippled girl. This novena was offered to Mother Gamelin, a sister foundress of the order, who had been dead since September 23d, 1851, and who was now working miracles which was a final test to prove she was worthy of canonization by the MotherChurch. It being time for our annual retreat, we were obliged to listen to eight days of French preaching, confession, prayer and silence in the Mother House.
A large portion of the city of Montreal is now in the hands of the Roman Catholic system—churches, convents, parochial schools or other Roman institutions facing the streets every few blocks. These portions of the city are inhabited by the French Canadians mostly, and as a general thing they have very large families and are poor, almost to a degree of poverty. The church bleeds them of their scanty earnings, then in the winter open soup houses in the name of Charity. One of the sisters at the Mother House told me that she had seen some of these people walk in their bare feet in the snow to some of these "charitable soup houses" to partake of the little bowl of soup that body and soul might be kept together.
The children in these families are nearly all raised in the parochial schools and churches and know nothing but the Romish teaching and that is the reason there are so many French Canadian priests and sisters. The home and family life of the people are so closely related to monastic life that it cannot be called taking a step in life when the boys and girls enter the convent, it is just continuing from babyhood to the end of life in the drudgery of the nunneries.
While at the Mother House, I was told that the French Canadian people were fast loosing their faith and becoming infidels, leading a life of worldliness and degradation. Who is to blame for this condition? Surely not the poor people who have been priest-ridden all these years. It is just the same story you hear of every country where Rome has had the control for any length of time.
We visited the Hotel Dieu Nunnery where Maria Monk had her terrible experiences as a black nun. The interior of this convent indicated the truth of her description in her book. In the hospital part there were a few rooms for patients, but principally wards—the beds having curtains around them. We witnessed a doctor making his daily sick visit. He was accompanied by sisters all in black, except a bit of the face and hands. These sisters would handle the medicine and dressings which were kept in a cabinetlike table, with nothing to protect them from the dust but a curtain around the table. On top of these tables were oratories, such as we had in the chapels, containing flowers, statues, holy water fountains, etc. I asked what these oratories were for and was told they were for the sick to pray to for their cures.
When we were ready to leave this institution, I asked the sister that accompanied us through, if she would come to the gate with us. She came to the threshold of the door and stopped and said that the sisters were not allowed to pass the door without special dispensation from the Archbishop.
In another Black Nunnery Convent we visited there was a large ward, probably one hundred feet long and sixty feet wide, filled with small, low beds, for the accommodation of babies and children. I saw probably forty or fifty children not older than six years. I asked the sister if the sisters there were allowed to take care of babies of that age, for I knew the sisters in my community werenot, and she told me that they were not; that they had nurse-girls to take care of them and that there was a sister appointed to oversee the work.
We were taken to the basement of this institution andsaw the private burial places of the "holy" Mother Foundress of the order and several other sisters particularly distinguished for great sanctity and "supernaturally gifted" while living, as we were told. These burial places were marked by a small, narrow board at one end, and a small wooden cross, about a foot high at the other. The fourteen stations of the cross were erected along the walls that surrounded this burial ground. Special indulgences and blessings were supposed to come to anyone praying in this "holy" place. We were also told that anything that was placed on the grave of the holy Mother, and remained there for some time, became holy, and that if these articles were kept and venerated, the holy person or saint would be the means of special blessings to us. I was given a small sprig of a flower made "holy" in this manner, and Sister Rita and myself had a laugh over it. When I reached the street, I discarded this holy relic.
We spent four days visiting the Longue Pointe Insane Asylum near Montreal. This asylum included seven magnificent stone buildings, and had four hundred and twenty acres of ground. At the time we were visiting, there were two thousand inmates and two hundred sisters who attended the sick. There were also a large number of uniformed men to guard and attend the male patients. We were told that the institution belonged to the government, but had been turned over to the Sisters of Charity of Providence who had the sole supervision of it. A great many sisters of the order I belonged to, and other orders as well, who became drunkards and with other ailments, as well as being insane, are sent to this institution from all over the United States and Canada.
I will give you an example of how some of the sisters go to this institution. A sister I knew very well at Vancouver, Washington, after an eight-days' retreat, was found in a closet by another sister, "sawing" on her neck with a common, ordinary butcher-knife, and had almost succeeded in putting an end to her troubles. When asked what she was doing she just said, "Hell here or Hell hereafter, what is the difference?" and kept on "sawing." Three older sisters sewed and bandaged the wound and as soon as she had recovered sufficiently to travel, was sent to this asylum at Longue Pointe. And this sister wasnotinsane but was sick and needed a doctor and medicine, but in order to kill the scandal, she was sent away so it would be forgotten.
We availed ourselves of the opportunity and went on a pilgrimage to St. Anne de Beaupre, Quebec, about one hundred and sixty miles from Montreal on the St. Lawrence River. There were about seven hundred people on the steamer chartered for this pilgrimage. The steamer was equipped with counters laden with small statues, pictures, rosaries, images magnified and encased in pen-holders, lockets and other cheap trinkets for the passengers to purchase as souvenirs. After buying them we would take them to the priest and have them blessed. About every two hours during the entire pilgrimage, we were assembled by order of the priest and made to say the rosary and other prayers.
At eleven o'clock at night we arrived at Cape Holy Sacrament. Here we were all requested to go ashore and assemble in the church for a special benediction. Each passenger was required to purchase a candle, just a simple tallow candle, for which was charged fifteen cents. When we were assembled in the church the priest blessed these candles with some Latin prayers, and then turned his back to us for about twenty minutes for some more Latin prayers. After this "holy" benediction, which very few, if any ofus, understood, we returned to the boat and continued our journey.
We arrived at the village of St. Anne de Beaupre about seven o'clock in the morning and went direct to the wonderful basilica of St. Anne de Beaupre, where we heard mass and received the consecrated wafter-god before we could have any breakfast.
This basilica is a magnificent temple, probably six stories in height, with two high spires, and wonderful chiming bells. In the interior there is a large costly decorated altar, and above this on either side are other altars. On either side of the main auditorium are rows of installed chapels, ten on each side, making twenty in all. Each of these chapels has its own altar and is dedicated to some saint and contains a life-size statue of that special saint.
The statue of St. Anne which works the "miraculous cures" is located about the centre of the basilica. It is about twice the size of a man, and standing on an onyx pillar about four feet high. The open hands are extended a little from the body, and from them stream rays of gold, representing the great richness of St. Anne's dispensing power. It is to this statue that hundreds of sufferers from all parts of Canada and this country travel every year in search of a cure for their infirmities. There were on exhibition hundreds and hundreds of crutches, canes, sticks and supports for all kinds of infirmities hung on the walls in the back of the church and on two immense pillars. These were supposed to have been left there by people who had been cured by this wonderful statue of St. Anne. Then upon believing themselves cured of their ailment or infirmity they would pay whatever sum of money theycould afford, and that is the reason for such a magnificent institution in this small village.
On an elevation near the church was a small building called the holy Sanctum. Leading to this building were twelve steps, which, in order to reach the entrance of the building, we had to ascend on our knees. The images and statues in this building were most beautiful to behold—costly shrines, life-sized statues of some of the martyred saints, and our Lord, as represented in the tomb. The fourteen stations of the cross were engraved in fine art on the walls, magnificent paintings on the ceiling, such as the Angelical Salutation of the Virgin Mary, and other views emblematic of religion. These things were all very interesting to look upon, but the more I tried to pray and convince myself in my heart that this show was religion, the more I found myself losing what little belief I then had.
On leaving this holy Sanctum, we passed a spring which had been tapped to make a fountain. This was known as St. Anne's fountain, and the water was supposed to possess great curative qualities. I could not believe in all this sort of "holy rot," it was getting too strong for me, but Sister Rita took a small bottle of the water which she carried throughout the remainder of the trip.
Next we looked in the basement of the church, which was fitted up very much like the basements of our large department stores, where all kinds of "holy" articles were for sale, everything from expensive statues and priest's vestments to hundreds of devotional and superstitious trinkets of the Romish belief.
There were thousands of people from the surroundingcountry at this village that day, as it was one of the periodical pilgrimages to the St. Anne Basilica.
Returning to Montreal we witnessed the grand processional parade of the French Canadian people celebrating their National holiday, the Feast of St. John the Baptist. This celebration, instead of being a civil affair, seemed to be more of an ecclesiastical show, with all the various societies and clubs of the church parading in all the pomp and glittering raiment characteristic of the Church of Rome. It seemed to me that it was more for the aggrandizement of the church than for the kindling of patriotism in the hearts of the citizens.
In Quebec, Joliette, and other cities and towns, we could neither see nor hear anything of interest except the greatness of the rich churches, the halls and pavilions for the celebration of festival and saint's days and nunneries, and to admire the self-sacrificing spirit of the French Canadian people for the Romish superstition. Of course, the beauties of nature were very grand at that time of the year, and we enjoyed it to a certain extent, as much probably, as a sister could.
Thus seven weeks were spent in Canada and we both rejoiced in shaking off the feeling of morbid depression of Romish domination even though the trip was supposed to be one of pleasure.
In returning to the States, at St. Albans, on the state line, the trainman announced "twenty minutes for lunch." Sister Rita and myself hurriedly ordered some clam-chowder. In a few minutes it was served, and we had just begun to eat it, when we heard "all aboard." We had a forty-cent laugh, minus the stew, and a run for the train.
We stopped at Burlington, Vermont, at Niagara Falls, Buffalo, Albany, New York City, Philadelphia, and Atlantic City. At Atlantic City, Sister Rita took sick, so we went to Washington, D. C., to the Providence Hospital which was conducted by the Sisters of Charity whose Mother House was still in France.
In two weeks Sister Rita had sufficiently recovered to continue our trip. We were determined to see what was dearest to our hearts in all this trip—Washington's Tomb. We went as close as we could to the tomb, knelt down and touched the cement floor inside the vault with our hands, in feeling of gratitude for liberty to our country, even though we were bound to the government of the Pope of Rome. For just after our visit to priest-ridden Montreal, we were surely thankful for the liberty enjoyed in this country, and we could see that it was this liberty that saved us from a greater hell on earth than we were living.
We visited Washington's Monument, the Soldiers Home, the White House, the Capitol Building and various other administration and government buildings.
Our respects were paid to St. Peter's Cathedral, which has become famous for the Pan-American Mass held every Thanksgiving Day, and which has been attended by several of our late Presidents.
Near the city, we visited a new monastery which was inhabited by French Monks. The most interesting part of this place was that portion under the main building where the basement ordinarily would have been. There was a long, narrow zig-zag tunnel, or passage, about six feet wide and probably seven or eight feet high. We were escorted through about one hundred feet of this tunnel and then the accompanying Monk told us that the remainder of it had not been finished, so we returned. Along the sides of this tunnel were niches, in which were placed statues, which were visible only by the aid of small burning tapers. In fact, most of the tunnel was so dark that we were unable to find our way without the aid of a light carried by the Monk. It was a crude, "spooky-looking" place, and both Sister Rita and myself gave a sigh of relief when we were once again in the light of day and on top of God's green foot-stool.
We were informed by the priest that these tunnels were to commemorate the Catacombs of Rome at the time of the early Christians.
We went to Baltimore, then crossed the Chesapeake Bay to Norfolk, Virginia, where we visited the Jamestown Exposition. The wonderful exhibits at this exposition, the historic and other interesting places visited while there, were a revelation of the achievements and advancements of this great country, and the acquisition of much historical enlightenment. We knew we were acquiring much knowledge forbidden by the Pope of Rome, but we were greatly pleased to think that we were defeating this self-styled ruler of heaven, earth and hell.
From Norfolk we went to New Orleans. For miles the streets of this large city were lined with little, antiquated, unkept homes, many of which seemed to be falling in ruin. The question came to my mind, "Why do these people not advance?" The answer was very apparent when we saw the strangle-hold the Roman Church had on them, and how they had built immense churches, monasteries and convents for the glorification and fat-living of the ecclesiastical gods. We visited the Jesuit church, which was a structure magnificent and beautiful to behold—withits altars and ornamentations of bronze. At that time this church was considered one of the most costly in America.
During our stay in New Orleans, we stopped at the convent of the Dominican Sisters. In conversing with some of these sisters, we learned how they recruited their ranks. Some of the most trust-worthy sisters would be sent to Ireland to talk the poor Irish girls into coming to this country and living good, pure, holy lives as sisters. We were also told that as a rule, these girls died very young, and generally of consumption. We saw some of them, and they surely looked like caged birds, sorry and discontented, home-sick and care-worn. Previous to this, feelers had been placed before the sisters in my community to see what sisters were willing to go to Europe to get recruits for the Sisters of Charity of Providence, and when I saw these girls, once, no doubt, rosy cheeked and beautiful, but now pale and care-worn from the unnatural, caged life they were living, I made a vow that I would never be the means of enticing any foreigners to leave their homes to become slaves for the Roman Hierarchy.
When we were in Burlington, Vermont, a sister-member of the same order I belonged to, asked me to visit a relative sister of hers in the Ursuline Convent in New Orleans. On the twelfth day of September, 1907, we visited this convent—a monstrous prison-looking institution, about five hundred feet long. Within the entrance there was a hall along the outer wall and on the other side of the hall there were a number of small rooms, or "stalls," about eight by ten feet in size. These stalls were separated from the hall by iron bars, about one-half inch in diameter, running from the floor to the ceiling, about two inches apart. I askedto see the sister by name, and when she came we had to talk to her from the other side of these bars. She extended her hand through the bars to shake hands, and we kissed her the best we could with that barrier between us. This was a cloistered order, and yet there was a parochial school within the enclosure. The children's parents and other visitors were only permitted to see the children or sisters as we had seen this sister. About five feet from the floor, in the center of the grating of each of these stalls, was a little door about fifteen inches square, with a padlock on the inside. We were told these were used for articles brought there that were too large to pass between the bars.
We visited some of the large plantations for which the South is famous, seeing the cotton plants in all their different stages, from the flowering to the picking of the cotton.
Returning to the Pacific Coast we came by the southern route, through Texas, Arizona and California. We stopped a few hours in Los Angeles, and about ten days at San Francisco and Oakland. From Oakland we visited Stanford University, which was still very much demolished from the earthquake nearly eighteen months before.
We arrived home—at St. Vincent's Hospital, Portland—on September thirtieth, after an absence of nearly four months, and I wish to impress upon you that in all our travels we did not receive one cent from our order—and they never once offered us any money to pay any of our expenses or showed us any sisterly solicitude.
Hundreds of people take trips like Sister Rita and I took in 1907 every year and there is nothing said about it, for it is only a common trip for the people of the world. But for two nuns in their garb to travel from one side of the continent to the other, and from the north to the south, on a trip like this, is extraordinary. In all my sisterhood life, I have never known any other two sisters to go on such a trip. I have known them to take longer trips, some of them to Europe, but always on business.
Once more at the hospital where we had spent so many years in drudgery, the smoldering pride and natural ambition which had been suppressed and rudely beaten and forced into oblivion, came from the hiding place with renewed vigor. We realized that a greatsomethinghad taken place within us. We could not see things in the same light as before. The trip had been educational for us, and the knowledge acquired had driven deep into our hearts the conviction of the truth with such power that we found a terrible battle raging within us—Romish convent "rot" on one side and light on the other.
What were we to do? We had no homes, no place to go to live the remainder of our earthly sojourn; we had served the best part of our lives for the Roman institution and were no longer young; our health was not the best; helpless from every point of view, it was a plain case of go to work, "for better or for worse."
It was impossible for us to believe opened-eyed the foolishness of all the silly superstitions we had so long lived, and yet from it there was no escape, as it was by rule and practice and demand, compulsory. We talked it over and realized that we stood in need of a remedy to counteract the wiles of darkness—neither allopathic nor homeopathic prescription could accomplish this for us, and we knew from experience that the Romish priest could do nothing for us as he was the fountain head of the darkness and ignorance, except perhaps administer a spiritual emetic in the confessional. So we just took up our part of the work as tools, grinding for the Roman machine.
Naturally, the conditions at the hospital were the same as they had always been, but the great change that had taken place in my life caused me to be more independent than I had ever been before. I saw that the treatment accorded the sisters, doctors, nurses and patients was not right, as well as they knew it. They soon realized the degree of independence I had delegated to myself, and I was overburdened with complaints of the wrongs that were going on. Not that I could directly correct the irregularities, but that I might have some influence with those in charge of the workings of the institution.
At St. Vincent's there were sixty sisters—simply women—in whose hearts existed the same aspirations, cravings and desires inherent in all human flesh. There were thosesisters with their whole heart and soul perfectly sincere in their religion. Others who were the schemers, intriguing in the most cunningly devised plans imaginable, workers of iniquity and the greatest injustices in the guise of religious show. To your face this class would be so sanctified, always saying prayers and looking to heaven, but when your back was turned, they would step on you, trample you under their feet, or knife you to attain their end, and that they might be glorified and exalted in the eyes of their companions and superiors. The outside world will never know the real meaning of the word "scheme" until they have the opportunity of seeing the hellish plottings of a sister-schemer.
It is only natural that a sister will do her utmost to have work in which she is interested and has some inclination toward, so that she can see and hear those things pleasing to her. Then when she is in her chosen work, she will do all in her power, just the same as other people, to attain the best position possible that life might be brighter and she do the most good, as well as to have a little more authority. In order to gain her aspirations, a sister is compelled by the hell-bound system to live in continual fire—the fire of fear and remorse—the fire of fierce wrangling through pride, jealousy and ambition. Patients and doctors have come to me many, many times, with proof of the awful jealousy and inharmony among sisters. They could not understand that a sister's world was so small and cramped by obedience that they could not get away from their last scene of hell and latest oppression.
It was about this time, soon after my return from the East, that there was a demand from the doctors and patients for more efficient nursing. It had been public talk that thesisters did not train for the care of the sick and consequently did not have diplomas. And yet, these sisters, with only experimental knowledge of nursing, were head-nurses, as superintendents and teachers in the training-school. Superiors were appointed who never had any previous hospital experience, coming directly from orphanages, schools or kitchen work. Others who came direct from Canada, who could not speak a dozen words of English, would be appointed to some high office. From these we would be compelled to take orders which meant blind and military obedience under penalty for the non-observance.
It was decided that some of the sisters should be given diplomas to show their qualifications for nursing. I was one of the chosen few who received a beautiful scroll of paper certifying that I had completed a thorough course of training in medical and surgical nursing and had undergone a satisfactory examination, in the branches taught in the training school, before certain members of the hospital staff who had attached their signatures. It was also signed by the Superior Provincial and the local Superior. This diploma was a triple falsehood on the face of it, as I had not taken a course of training, I had not taken an examination before these doctors, or any other doctors, on the tenth day of June, 1901, or any other time; and, moreover, I did not receive it until after I had returned from my trip East, which was 1907, which shows that it was either back-dated or had been kept in "cold storage" for several years.