HARPER’S FERRY.
The adventures of three Sisters who were detailed from the mother
house at Emmitsburg. Their offer to retire in the interest of the
ladies of Winchester. A night’s “repose” with foreheads resting
upon umbrella handles. A journey homeward by car and stage, and
then across the Potomac River in a flat canoe. A Sister received
at the convent as one from the grave.
[Illustration: GRANT.]
Nearly all the Sisters that could be spared had been sent from the
mother house at Emmittsburg, and were engaged in performing works of
charity on the battlefields and in the various camps and hospitals. On
June 7, 1861, a telegram was received from the authorities asking that a
number of Sisters be detailed to serve the sick and wounded soldiers at
Harper’s Ferry.
In spite of the severe strain that it entailed upon their available
assignments, the Superiors made the sacrifice of sending three Sisters.
These brave women left Emmittsburg on June 9 for Frederick City. Mother
Ann Simeon cautioned them to act with prudence, lest they meet with
trouble, as they had the Northern Army and its sentinels to pass in
order to reach their destination. An orderly had been sent to escort
them, but the Sisters passed their intended guide without knowing it, he
going by them on the road to Emmittsburg.
An expected engagement kept villagers and farmers quietly at home. Men
cautiously whispered their fears or opinions, and the sight of people
bold enough to travel just then was a matter that occasioned mild
surprise. For this reason the Sisters tried to huddle in the rear of the
stage coach, hoping to pass unobserved. During a brief halt for the mail
in one little town the driver opened the stage door and handing in a
letter said in a loud voice:
“Sisters, a gentleman in Emmittsburg desires you to put this letter in a
Southern post office after you have crossed the line.”
The eyes of the curious and astonished people were on them in a moment.
The Sisters were not aware that the driver knew of their destination,
but they remained quiet and made the best of the incident. The heat was
excessive. One of the horses gave out on the way, and another had to be
hastily substituted. After some delay the party arrived in Frederick
City. A few sentinels stood here and there, but no one paid much
attention to the new arrivals. Before they started again, however, a
number of men gathered around their carriages, saying: “Why, ladies,
where are you going?” Several of the men asked questions at the same
time, but the Sisters stared at them blankly, and civilly answered
anything except what the gossips most desired to know.
As hostilities had stopped the railway cars the pilgrims had to continue
their journey in the stage-coach. Almost sick with heat they journeyed
on until another horse succumbed. This meant more trouble and suspense,
but it was borne with heroic patience.
The most exciting adventure was yet to come. The rocks of the Maryland
Heights on one side, and the Potomac River on the left, came in view.
Just as the carriage was, seemingly, proceeding smoothly on its way
there came a sudden grating sound and then an abrupt stop. “We’re
stuck!” ejaculated the driver, with more force than elegance. The
carriage was so tightly fastened that it was feared the vehicle would
have to be abandoned and the remainder of the journey made upon foot.
The driver swore and stormed about, while the Sisters meekly looked on
in silence, fearing to further irritate him with suggestions. Finally
the carriage was extricated and the pilgrims proceeded upon their way.
About twilight the Southern pickets were seen, for the South still held
a portion of Maryland. The first soldier inquired where the Sisters were
going, and with what intent. He then passed them on to the next guard,
and so on until they came to the last, who said: “We have just received
such strict orders regarding persons crossing in or out that it is not
in my power to pass you on.” The captain of the guards was sent for,
however, and the Sisters were transferred over the Potomac Bridge. Great
cargoes of powder had already been placed on this bridge, so that, in
the event of the enemy’s approach it might be destroyed.
Harper’s Ferry is at the junction of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers,
the Potomac separating Maryland and Virginia. A summit above the town,
standing between the two rivers, is called Bolivar Heights. On this
elevation was located the military hospital where the Sisters were to
labor. A neat little Catholic church was located about midway between
the valley and the town.
[Illustration: BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER.]
The hospital was filled with the sick, and around the town lay thousands
of men just arrived from the most remote Southern States. A cold wet
spell had preceded the present heat, and many of the men were ill and
lay in their tents until vacancies opened for them in the badly
sheltered houses in the town. The men in one regiment had contracted
measles on their march; this spreading among others with the exposure
incidental to army life thinned their numbers before the ball and the
sword had begun their quicker work.
On reaching their lodgings the Sisters found supper prepared, and after
disposing of this they soon retired to rest. The stillness and darkness
of the town was frightful. No sound but the Sisters’ voices or footsteps
was to be heard. Not a light gleamed from the fastened windows for fear
of discovery by the hidden enemy. The whole army had been sleeping or
resting on their arms since their arrival, expecting an early attack.
The medical director, who had sent for the Sisters, came early in the
morning and took them to the hospital. With his assistant he escorted
them from room to room, introducing them and saying to the patients:
“Now you will have no cause to complain of not getting nourishment,
medicine and attention at the right time, for the Sisters of Charity
will see to all these things.”
The town had been by turns in the possession of the North and South, and
was therefore completely drained of provisions and necessary
conveniences for the sick. Notwithstanding these difficulties things
were beginning to look more comfortable, when a telegram was received
from Winchester ordering the whole Confederate Army to repair to that
town immediately. The Northern Army, it was announced, would attempt to
cross the Potomac above and below Harper’s Ferry, thus surrounding the
Southern Army and cutting off all supplies.
The soldiers moved at once, with the exception of those who served the
sick, and those who were to collect the tents and finally destroy
bridges and tracks. Provisions were cast into the river by the
wholesale, in order to deprive the enemy of benefit. Then came new
orders to wait a while, but the invalids had already been removed to the
depot, to await the return of the cars from Winchester. Arrangements
were now being made for the destruction of the bridges and tracks, and
the Sisters were sent to remain with a worthy Catholic family far away
from these structures. During the night one explosion after another
shook the grand bridge and seemed to shake the mountains. The little
Catholic church, the only one that had not been applied to military
purposes, was filled and surrounded by the frightened people. The
worn-out pastor was their only consoler.
The Sisters looked at the awful destruction around them, and felt
encompassed with desolation. All the next day they hourly expected to be
called to the cars, but no word came. They now learned that the ladies
of Winchester had written to the medical director requesting him not to
let the Sisters of Charity serve the sick, as they themselves would wait
on them. The Sisters knew that the ladies had been enthusiastic in
caring for the Confederate sick and, thinking the delay was owing to the
embarrassment the doctors might experience in regard to this, one
Sister, acting as spokeswoman, said to them:
“Gentlemen, we are aware of the ardor with which the Winchester ladies
have labored for your poor men, and also know of their desire to serve
the men alone--that is, without any aid of ours; therefore be candid
enough to allow us to return to our home. If you feel any difficulty
respecting the ladies of Winchester tell us. The Sisters consider it
reasonable that they should wish to serve their own people, and will not
be offended, but rather feel grateful for your friendly candor.”
The physicians replied that they did not care for the objections that
had been made to the Sisters; that the ladies of Winchester could never
do for the sick what the Sisters of Charity would do, and therefore
unless the Sisters insisted on returning home the doctors would hold
them to their undertaking.
The physicians begged the Sisters not to leave the town, but to await
the signal for departure. Expecting all day and even until 11 P. M. to
be sent for, and feeling that rest was absolutely necessary, the Sisters
were preparing for bed when the kind lady of the house came into their
room, saying: “My dear, poor Sisters, a wagon and your baggage are at
the door for you.” They soon left their benevolent hostess, who wept to
see them pursuing such hardships. It was a genuine farm wagon, with two
negroes as drivers. The worthy pastor of Harper’s Ferry, who was
determined not to leave the Sisters entirely to strangers, attended to
their trunks and found seats for them. The heavy spray from both rivers
was thick in the air. Here and there a star appeared between broken
clouds, giving barely light enough to see the sentinels at their posts.
One of these, advancing, asked the countersign, which the pastor gave
him. The wagon, running on the high terrace edge of the Potomac River,
made, with the darkness, a gloomy prospect for the Sisters.
On reaching the depot an officer met them and offered to find them a
shelter until the cars would arrive. He took them across two boards that
formed a temporary bridge. By the aid of his lantern they could see
water on either side of them, so that they had to watch carefully and
pick their steps lest they slip off the boards. At last he opened the
door of a little hut, which was almost washed by the river. Here they
entered and sat down, resting their foreheads on their umbrellas until
between 3 and 4 o’clock, when a rumbling outside announced the arrival
of the cars. The train reached Winchester five hours later. Almost the
entire town was occupied by soldiers, so that accommodations at hotels
were not to be had for any consideration. The zealous priest, who was
still with the Sisters, took them to the church, and afterwards went in
search of lodgings for them.
The church, which was of stone, and was one of the poorest old buildings
in the place, was located in the suburbs. A crowd of ignorant and
curious men and children followed the Sisters as they walked to the
edifice. As they entered the church the bystanders crowded in and about
the door. When the Sisters went by turns to the confessional the village
men and boys hurried outside and peeped through the cracks at the
penitents, peering into their very faces. Soon the priest went out and
as he did so he shut and locked the door after him. After some time he
returned, although the Sisters feared that it was just possible he had
lost his mind and would not come back. They knew his hardships had been
excessive, because, besides being sick and without food or sleep, he
had many other inconveniences to contend with. But he returned and took
them to a plain, worthy Catholic family.
The following morning being Sunday they walked to the church, and just
at the gate had to halt to let a company of soldiers, on their way to
Mass, enter the church. About twenty or thirty Catholics constituted the
congregation usually, but on this day the soldiers and Sisters made
quite a crowded assembly. After that the Sisters waited patiently for
the doctors to take them to the scene of their labors. The Reverend Dr.
Costello had called on them from time to time, informing the authorities
that the Sisters were ready to go to work among the sick. The medical
director finally asked them if they must remain in one hospital, or
whether each Sister could take charge of a separate one. He was informed
that their number was too small to divide and they would remain at one
of the hospitals.
The heads of families in the city of Winchester remained in town, while
grown-up daughters and children were sent to country seats, the mothers
of these staying at their houses, receiving and serving as many sick
soldiers as they could. The Sisters received much kindness from these
ladies, for they knew that the common rations of the soldiers were very
rough. Indeed, one of the greatest distresses of the Sisters at this
time was that they had not more for the poor sick.
The Sisters began their labors in one of the largest hospitals in
Winchester. They worked incessantly day and night, frequently not
pausing long enough to take necessary food and nourishment for
themselves. Such labor began to show on them, especially as they were
only three in number. The doctors said that while more nurses were
needed there would be no way of sending for more Sisters except by one
of them going home and returning with the others. Affairs had reached
such a crisis that only the Sisters of Charity could travel now. One of
them finally started off for the mother house, going by car, then by
stage, and then crossing the Potomac in a flat canoe. Then she traveled
by foot as fast as possible, and after running for a mile reached the
railroad car before it left the station.
The evening of next day she reached St. Joseph’s, at Emmitsburg, where
she was received as if from the grave. The anxious Superiors had heard
nothing from or of the Sisters except what meagre news was published of
the movements of the two armies. Sister Euphemia, afterwards Mother
Superior, left St. Joseph’s at once with three companions for
Winchester, to relieve the Sisters there. At the same time a telegram
was sent to Sister Valentine at St. Louis instructing her to go
immediately and replace Sister Euphemia in Winchester, who was to
proceed farther southward, for in Richmond, Va., the Sisters were almost
overcome with continuous duty. The Sisters, now six in number, continued
their labors in Winchester until very few remained in the hospitals. The
convalescent members of the army had been leaving Winchester for some
days, going towards Richmond. The Sisters themselves finally proceeded
towards Richmond.