SATTERLEE HOSPITAL.
A sketch of the remarkable labors of Sister Mary Gonzaga and her
work as the executive head of a hospital where 50,000 sick and
wounded soldiers were cared for. The chaplain kept busy preparing
men for death. Bishop Wood visits the hospital and administers the
sacrament of confirmation. A soldier who was saved from the
stocks. A veteran’s tribute.[12]
[Illustration: SISTER GONZAGA.]
As stated in the previous chapter many car-loads of wounded soldiers
were conveyed from Gettysburg to the Satterlee Hospital in Philadelphia.
Sister Mary Gonzaga, who was in charge of this institution, deserves
special mention in connection with her work during the war. If nobility
of character, earnestness and purity of purpose, great natural executive
ability, together with unaffected piety and humility tell for anything,
this Sister will rank high in the bright galaxy of self-sacrificing
women whose lives have illumined the history of Catholic Sistershoods in
the United States. Celebrating her golden jubilee, April 12, 1877, she
could even then look back over a series of years in the course of which
she has been school teacher, nurse, Mother Superior, head of a large
orphan asylum and the executive of a great military hospital, where
nearly 50,000 sick and wounded soldiers received the self-sacrificing
attention of a staff of sixty or seventy Sisters of Charity. Sister
Gonzaga, just before her death, was credited with being the oldest
living Sister of Charity in the United States. She spent the tranquil
evening of a busy and eventful life as the Mother Emeritus of St.
Joseph’s Orphan Asylum, one of the magnificent charities of the City of
Brotherly Love.
This venerable woman’s name in the world was Mary Agnes Grace. She came
from a respected Baltimore family, being born in that city in 1812. She
was baptized in St. Patrick’s Church, and there and in a Christian home
received her preliminary religious training. In December, 1823, she was
sent to St. Joseph’s Academy, Emmitsburg, Md., where she proved to be a
most diligent pupil. The four years she spent in this institution helped
to make that certain foundation upon which her subsequent successful
career was built. She had early conceived the idea of retiring from the
world and devoting her life entirely to the service of God. Accordingly,
on March 11, 1827, she was received into the community of the Sisters of
Charity of St. Vincent de Paul. In April, 1828, in company with two
other Sisters, she opened a school in Harrisburg. On the 25th of March,
1830 she made her holy vows.
In May, 1830, Sister Gonzaga was sent to Philadelphia to St. Joseph’s
Orphan Asylum, with which her future was to be so intimately connected.
The Asylum at that time was situated on Sixth street, near Spruce,
adjoining Holy Trinity Church. On October 24, 1836, the institution was
removed to the site of the present asylum at the southwest corner of
Seventh and Spruce streets. Four Sisters and fifty-one children
comprised the population then. The Sisters were Sister Petronilla,
Sister Theodosia, Sister Mary John and Sister Mary Gonzaga. Sister
Petronilla died on August 3, 1843, sincerely mourned, and was succeeded
by Sister Gonzaga, who remained in charge until October, 1844. Here she
went on with her good work, placid and calm in the midst of the worrying
turbulence of anti-Catholic bitterness and persecution, which at times
threatened the lives of innocent women and children. In the latter part
of 1844 she was sent to Donaldsonville, La., as assistant in the
Novitiate, which at that time was for the purpose of graduating Southern
postulants.
In the following year Sister Gonzaga was transferred to New Orleans. On
March 19, 1851, she returned to St. Joseph’s Asylum in Philadelphia to
re-assume her former charge. In 1855 she was sent in an administrative
capacity to the mother house of the Order in France, where she remained
for a year, obtaining and imparting much valuable information regarding
the work and duties of Sisters. In May, 1856, she returned to the United
States, going to St. Joseph’s, Emmittsburg where she filled the office
of Procuratrix. In January, 1857, she returned to Philadelphia, taking
charge of her old love, St. Joseph’s Asylum, for the third time.
The beginning of the Civil War a few years later was to mark one of the
most eventful epochs in the career of Sister Gonzaga, and to develop
extraordinary gifts and qualities of administration. The Satterlee
Military Hospital was established in Philadelphia. Dr. Walter F. Atlee,
an honored physician of the Quaker City, felt that the interests of the
Government and of the soldiers would be benefited if the Sisters of
Charity were installed as nurses in the army hospital. He had several
interviews with Surgeon-General Hammond and with the Secretary of War,
Edwin M. Stanton. As a result of this the Sisters of Charity were
invited to assume charge. On June 9, 1862, Sister Gonzaga, accompanied
by 40 Sisters, assembled from all parts of the United States, entered
upon the duties in the hospital. It is difficult to estimate the good
work done by the Sisters during the period they spent in this place,
which has been aptly styled the “shadow of the valley of death.” In
those three momentous years the Sisters nursed and cared for upwards of
50,000 soldiers. Only those who have had the care of the sick can begin
to estimate the amount of ceaseless labor and patience involved in such
a vast undertaking. The sick and wounded comprised both Union and
Confederate soldiers. The gentleness of the Sisters soon endeared them
to all under their charge.
In securing the necessary number of Sisters a requisition was made by
Surgeon-General Hammond for twenty-five from the mother house at
Emmittsburg. They were sent to Philadelphia at once to take their places
in the new hospital. To quote one of the Sisters, the place was so large
that “they could scarcely find the entrance.” The workmen about the
grounds looked at the Sisters in amazement, thinking perhaps that they
belonged to some flying artillery. At 12 o’clock they repaired to the
kitchen for dinner, and by the time this meal was finished they found
plenty of work had been planned for them. One hundred and fifty men who
had been brought in were in the wards. All of the Sisters went to work
and prepared nourishment for the men, most of whom looked at them in
astonishment, not knowing what kind of persons they might be, but among
the number was a French soldier named Pierre, who immediately recognized
the garb of the “Daughters of Charity.” In a short time the number of
patients was increased to nine hundred.
On the 16th of August over fifteen hundred of the sick and wounded were
brought to the hospital, most of them from the Battle of Bull Run or
Manassas. Many had died on the way from sheer exhaustion, others were in
a dying state, so that the chaplain was kept busy in preparing the men
for death. The wards being now crowded, tents were erected in the yard
to accommodate over one thousand patients, for the Sisters at that time
had not less than forty-five hundred in the hospital. When they first
went to Satterlee their quarters were very limited, consisting of one
small room, about seven feet square, which served as a chapel. Another,
somewhat larger, answered the purpose of a dormitory by night and
community room by day. Dr. Hayes soon supplied four more rooms, one of
which was for a chapel. The soldiers, who were very much interested,
took up a collection among themselves and gave the money to the Sisters,
requesting them to purchase ornaments or whatever was needed for the
chapel. They did so at different times until they finally had a good
supply of everything that was necessary. They even secured new seats and
sanctuary carpet. The men stipulated that when the hospital was closed
the Sisters should take everything for the orphans.
In April, 1863, Rt. Rev. Bishop Wood administered the sacrament of
Confirmation in the little chapel to thirty-one soldiers, most of whom
were converts and two of whom were over 40 years of age. In February,
1864, forty-four others received the sacrament of Confirmation. One man
was unable to leave his bed, and the Bishop was kind enough to go to the
ward in his robes to confirm the man. After the ceremony the prelate
distributed little souvenirs of his visit and then asked the Catholics
who were present to approach the railing of the altar. To his great
astonishment as well as satisfaction all in the chapel came forward. He
gave a little exhortation and then dismissed them. Mass was said at 6
o’clock in the morning, and many of the patients were in the chapel at
half-past four, in order to secure seats. This was generally the case on
great festivals, although some of the crippled men had to be carried in
the arms of their comrades. At 3 o’clock on Sundays and festivals
Vespers were sung in the chapel, in which the patients felt quite
privileged to join. In Lent they had the Way of the Cross, and in May
the devotions of the month of Mary. The chapel was always crowded at
these times. The soldiers took great delight in decorating the chapel at
Christmas with green boughs, festooned with roses; indeed, it always
gave them great pleasure to help the Sisters in any kind of work, and
they often interfered when they found their kind nurses engaged in
laborious duties. In May, 1864, a Jubilee was celebrated at the hospital
with great success.
Cases of smallpox had occurred in the hospital from time to time, but
the patients were removed as soon as possible to the smallpox hospital,
which was some miles from the city. The poor men were very much
distressed because they were compelled to leave the Sisters. It was
heartrending when the ambulances came to hear the men begging to be left
at Satterlee, even if they were entirely alone, provided the Sisters
were near them. The Sisters offered their services several times to
attend these poor men, but were told that the Government had ordered
them away to prevent the contagion from spreading. At last the surgeon
in charge obtained permission to keep the smallpox patients in a camp
some distance from the hospital. The tents were made very comfortable,
with good large stoves to heat them. The next thing was to have the
Sisters in readiness in case their services should be required. Every
Sister was courageous and generous enough to offer her services, but it
was thought prudent to accept one who had had the disease. From
November, 1864, until May, 1865, there were upwards of ninety cases.
About nine or ten of these died. Two of the men had the black smallpox,
and were baptized before they expired. The Sisters had entire charge of
the poor sufferers, as the physicians seldom paid them a visit,
permitting the Sisters to do anything they thought proper for them. They
were much benefited and avoided being marked by drinking freely of tea
made of “pitcher plant.” The patients seemed to think the Sisters were
not like other human beings, or they would not attend to such loathsome
and contagious diseases.
One day a Sister was advising an application for a man who had been
poisoned in the face. He would not see the doctor because, he said, he
did not do him any good. The Sister told him that the remedy she advised
had cured a Sister who was poisoned. The man looked astonished and said:
“A Sister?” She answered, “Yes.” “Why,” he said, “I did not know that
Sisters ever got anything like that.” She told him that they were human
beings and liable to take diseases as well as anyone else. “But I
believe they are not,” he said, “for the boys often say they must be
different from anyone else, or from other people, for they never get
sick and they do for us what no other person would do. They are not
afraid of the fever, smallpox or anything else.” The men had more
confidence in the Sisters’ treatment than in that of the physicians’.
The doctors themselves acknowledged that they would have lost more of
their patients had it not been for the Sisters’ watchful care and
knowledge of medicine.
One occurrence will show the good feeling of the men towards the
Sisters. One of the convalescent patients had been in town on a
furlough, and while there had indulged too freely in liquor. On his
return he went quietly to bed. A sister, not knowing this, went with his
medicine as usual and touched his bedclothes to arouse him. The poor
man, being stupid and sleepy, thought his comrades were teasing him, and
lifting up his arm gave a terrific blow, sending the Sister and medicine
across the room. Several of the convalescent patients seized their
comrade by the collar, and would surely have choked him to death if the
Sister had not compelled them to desist. However, he was soon reported
by the men and sent under an escort to the guard house, where stocks
were prepared for him.
Nothing could be done for his release, as the surgeon in charge was
absent. As soon as that official returned the Sister begged that the
poor man might return to his ward and be also free from all other
punishment, as well as from imprisonment in the guard house. The surgeon
complied with the Sister’s request, but in order to make a strong
impression on the soldier he dispatched an order to all the wards, which
was read at roll call, as follows: “This man was released only by the
earnest entreaty of the Sisters; otherwise he would have been punished
with the utmost severity.” When the poor man came to himself and learned
what he had done he begged a thousand pardons and promised never to take
liquor again.
The following notes from the diaries of the Sisters are of interest:
“From our taking charge of the hospital, June the 9th, 1862, until we
left it, on August 3, 1865, ninety-one Sisters had been on duty there.
The war being over in April, 1865, the Government only desired our
services after that until the convalescents could obtain their
discharge. The physicians, however, requested us to remain until all the
sick were removed to the Soldiers’ Home, or returned to their own homes.
I am happy to be able to state that during our whole sojourn at
Satterlee Hospital there never was an unpleasant word between the
physicians or officers and the Sisters. The eve of our departure the
executive officer said to me: “Sister, allow me to ask you a question.
Has there ever been any misunderstanding or dissatisfaction between the
officers and the Sisters since you came to this hospital?” I answered:
‘Not at all.’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I will tell you why I asked. The other
evening we were at a party. The conversation turned on the Sisters in
the hospitals, and I said there had never been a falling out between us
at Satterlee--that we were all on the same good terms as on the first
day we met. Some of the city hospital doctors said they did not believe
that forty women could live together without disputing, much less that
they could be among such a number of men without it.’
“Among the soldiers, who were of many nations, there was a large number
of Indians. In Ward 20 there was a young Indian names James Wise, who
was far gone in consumption. The doctors thought he could not live very
many days. A Sister sent for Charles Corbin, another Indian, who was in
Ward U, to speak to him of his condition. Charley was a well-instructed
Catholic, and understood the French language, through which he
communicated to Sister the dispositions of the poor sufferer, who did
not know that he had a soul, or that there was a God. In fact, to use
Charley’s own words, ‘he was a perfect savage.’ He would not listen to
anything Charley had to say, either in regard to the existence of a God
or the immortality of the soul. On leaving him for the night Charley
told Sister what little hope there was of his conversion. But how
mysterious are the ways of God! On his return next morning he found him
with very different dispositions. The poor, sick one had had a dream,
which he relates as follows: He had thought he saw our Lord coming
toward him with a priest ready to baptize him, thinking he was an infant
and heaven was open to receive him. This he described to Charley as
minutely as if he had seen the priest in reality, at the same time
requesting him to bring him to the chapel to be baptized. The next time
Father McGrane came to say Mass Charley brought his ‘poor little
savage,’ as he still called him, although he was almost too weak to
walk, to the chapel. Here there followed a scene which I must describe.
Three interpretations were needed in order to perform the ceremonies of
administering the Sacrament of Baptism. First Charley, who understood
the Indian language, interpreted it to Sister in French; then Sister
translated the French into English for Father McGrane, who thus learned
the desire of the ‘little savage,’ the third in the circle. He lingered
for two weeks after his baptism and was interred in Cathedral Cemetery.
Since his death Charley has often expressed the wish to be one day as
happy as he believes him to be. May he rest in peace.
“September 27.--Quite an excitement was created about 2 o’clock on the
27th of September, caused by the visit of Generals Sigel and Hammond.
The former lost a leg in one of the late battles of Gettysburg and has
been since that time under the care of the Sisters in Washington. He is
now able to go about on crutches. Dr. Hayes, with the principal
surgeons, accompanied them in walking the circuit of the hospital. The
patients, who were all eager to see once more their good old generals,
who had stood by them so valiantly in the terrible engagement, came out
of the wards as best they could, many of them also on crutches, and
crowded in the corridors to cheer and welcome them as they passed along.
One poor young lad, Who was very sick, who Sister thought would feel the
privation of not being able to see them, replied to her words of
consolation: ‘Do not feel sorry on my account. I would any time rather
see a Sister than a general, for it was a Sister who came to see me when
I was unable to help myself, in an old barn near Gettysburg. She dressed
my wounds and gave me drink, and took care of me until I came here.’ The
poor boy is a Protestant, and never saw a Sister before that time.
“Thanksgiving Day.--Quite an interesting little party assembled in the
laundry yesterday evening. The poor laundresses have been so very
generous for some time past that Sister N. consented to let them have a
little party as soon as Sister Gonzaga would return from St. Joseph’s,
where she had been for the last two weeks. They came quite early
yesterday morning and hastened to finish all their work by noon; then
washed and dressed in all their finery, which they had brought with them
for the occasion. Sister N. arranged the tables, which were covered with
snow white cloths, upon which were placed cakes, preserves, apples,
candies, etc. In the centre and at each end of the tables were placed
handsome bunches of flowers. The pitchers looked like silver and the
knives and forks looked as if they had never been used. The tea set was
white--in fine, everything looked nice, and our poor washwomen were
delighted. At 4 o’clock Sister N. informed them that everything was in
readiness, and sent for Sister Gonzaga, who opened the afternoon with a
few remarks. The doctor, whose duty it is to prescribe for them, was
present. Two of the patients who have violins had been previously
requested to come and play for them, and they, with the exception of two
or three small boys, were the only men present. They danced until nearly
7 o’clock. The old women gave us Irish jigs and reels to perfection,
while the younger ones danced cotillions. There was not a loud or
unbecoming word spoken during the whole evening, and they acted as
nicely as might be expected from a better class. They all seemed well
pleased, and expressed their thanks to the Sisters for honoring them
with their presence. Sister Gonzaga said grace for them before taking
their places at supper, and afterward make a few pleasant remarks, to
which they listened with the greatest respect. The doctors then took
their leave, after having expressed their thanks to the Sisters for
having allowed them the favor of being present, which they considered a
great compliment. After supper one of the girls, in the name of all,
presented Sister Gonzaga with a large cake, nicely frosted. She was
obliged to accept it, else she would have wounded their feelings. They
then bade us good night at a quarter to 8, and returned to their humble
homes, well pleased with their evening’s entertainment. I must not omit
to tell you that they defrayed the expense of all the refreshments
themselves. Each one contributed a little beforehand, for, of course,
they knew they could not have had it in any other way.”
The hospital was one of the largest in the country, and everything was
arranged on a generous scale. It was not the cause of any wonder,
therefore, when the wounded were brought in by the car-loads. Sister
Gonzaga always recalled two events in the history of the institution
with particular distinctness; the first was after the battle of Bull Run
and the second the day following the battle of Gettysburg. After the
battle of Bull Run the soldiers were brought to the hospitals by the
hundreds. The time of the battle of Gettysburg there was a terrible
period of suspense for the people of Philadelphia. They only knew in a
general sort of way that a battle was taking place perhaps somewhere in
the neighborhood of the State Capital, but they had no information
regarding the result, or who was the victor or vanquished. The earliest
information came with the first consignment of wounded soldiers to the
Satterlee Hospital. The sick and wounded from the blood-stained field of
Gettysburg did not come by the dozen or by the car-load or by the
hundred, but by the thousands. One careful estimate puts the number at
four thousand. Such an emergency as this naturally tested the capacity
of the women in charge, but Sister Gonzaga came through the ordeal with
flying colors. The surgeon in chief of the hospital was Dr. Isaac Hayes,
who achieved much fame by his connection with the celebrated Kane Arctic
exploring expedition, and who afterwards headed an expedition of his
own. The wards of the hospital were very commodious and comfortable,
each one accommodating at least seventy-five beds.
Dr. Hayes was as a kind father to the Sisters, consulting them upon
everything that would contribute to their comfort and happiness. Through
the kind offices of Dr. Hayes and Dr. Atlee they secured a chaplain,
Father Crane, who said Mass for them once a week. In the early part of
the war many of the wounded soldiers were taken to St. Joseph’s
Hospital, where Sister Hillary was in charge. The hospital was then
located in a dwelling house on Girard avenue, between Sixteenth and
Seventeenth street. After the battle of Bull Run about sixty soldiers
were cared for at St. Joseph’s Hospital. At the same time St. Teresa’s
Church, of which the venerable Hugh Lane is pastor, was temporarily used
as a hospital for wounded soldiers. The Sisters from Emmittsburg, as
detailed in the previous chapter, did much good service after the fight
at Gettysburg, going directly from their mother house in Maryland to the
scene of the battle.
There is an old and very rare print of the Satterlee Hospital still in
existence. From this valuable documentary evidence it is clear that the
hospital occupied many acres of ground. In order to reach the building
it was necessary to cross a bridge in the vicinity of South street. In
crossing this at the time the hospital was opened the carriage
containing a number of Sisters broke down and they were compelled to
walk the remainder of the distance.
During all the time of the war Sister Gonzaga remained in charge of St.
Joseph’s Asylum, which she visited at regular intervals. At the close of
the war she returned to give her whole time to the Asylum; the other
Sisters returning to their various missions.
Sister Gonzaga has had frequent visits from grateful soldiers who were
nursed back to life through her Christian devotion. One who heard of her
serious illness a few years ago called, and then, as the outpouring of a
grateful heart, sent the following letter to the Philadelphia Evening
Star as “A soldier’s tribute to the noble work of Mother Gonzaga during
the war:”
“In your valuable paper dated yesterday the announcement was made
that Mother Gonzaga, in charge of St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum,
southwest corner of Seventh and Spruce streets, was lying
dangerously ill. In reciting her many acts of charity for the
young orphans under her care and protection, victims of epidemics,
etc., during the many years of her life, you were not aware that
the short notice touched a tender chord of affection in the breast
of many a veteran of the late war.
“Mother Gonzaga was a mother of sixty thousand soldiers, as
patients under treatment in Satterlee United States Army Hospital,
Forty-fourth and Pine streets, from 1862 until 1865. Those who
were under her care, no matter of what religion or creed, when
they received the midnight visits of Mother Gonzaga, her silent
steps after ‘taps’ and by the dim gaslight, will recognize her
familiar countenance surrounded by that white-winged hood or cowl,
just bending her form to hear the faint breath or whisper of
some fever patient or some restless one throwing off the bed
clothes; she kindly tucking them in around his body as a mother
would a child; then a visit to the dying to give them expressions
of comfort. Those who recall these scenes I say think of her truly
as an angel of peace and sweetness.
[Illustration: SISTER MARY GONZAGA.]
“Administering medicine when required, loosening a bandage or
replacing the same, watching a case of a sufferer in delirium--at
all times annoying to those near him--was her daily duty. To see
her always calm, always ready, with modesty and fidelity,
faithfully performing a Christian duty as an administering angel
when physicians, surgeons, friends and all human aid had failed,
was a beautiful sight. No poet could describe, no artist could
faithfully portray on canvas the scenes at the deathbed of a
soldier, that would convey to those not having witnessed them the
solemnity of the quiet kneeling, the silent prayer, a murmur
faintly heard as a whisper, a Sister of Charity paying her
devotion to Him on high, and consigning the spirit of the dying
soldier to His care.
“As one of many thousands under her care I shall always think of
Mother Gonzaga as one of a constellation of stars of the greatest
magnitude--surrounded by many others that were devoted servants,
among whom I would mention Dorothea Dix, Annie M. Ross, Hettie A.
Jones and Mary Brady. We soldiers cannot forget the service they
rendered.
“J. E. MacLane.”
On the 12th of, April, 1877, Sister Gonzaga celebrated the occasion of
her golden jubilee in the Sisterhood. On the previous 19th of March she
had attained her 50th year in the community. On that day she received
the blessing of the Holy Father (Pope Pius IX), a gracious act obtained
for her at the suggestion of Rev. Father Alizeri, C. M., a saintly man
and a faithful missionary, who has since gone to his reward. Bishops,
priests, Sisters and laymen vied with one another on this jubilee
occasion in showing the reverence and esteem in which they held the
simple religious woman who had gone about doing good for so many years.
Ten years later she was recalled to the mother house at Emmittsburg by
her superiors, who desired to relieve her of her responsibility as the
head of such a large institution. Born to obedience she promptly
responded to the order, and left the house which had become as a home;
left friends who had become endeared to her, and left orphans who truly
regarded her as a mother. There was not a murmur from this woman who was
being taken away from associations with which she had been lovingly and
intimately connected for nearly half a century.
Her Philadelphia friends, without solicitation and spontaneously and
simultaneously, addressed petitions to her superiors requesting her
return to the scenes of her life’s labors. In the words of one who loved
Sister Gonzaga, “Heaven was stormed by fervent prayers for the return of
the Mother of the Poor.” She remained at Emmittsburg for sixteen months,
and at the end of that time returned to Philadelphia. Her home-coming on
the 20th of December, 1888, was made the occasion of a great
demonstration. The Sisters, the orphans, the managers of the asylum and
a host of friends participated.
The actual extent of the good done by Sister Gonzaga is scarcely
realized by those who were about her. Many of her charitable acts have
been done quietly, even secretly. There was one story with almost the
pathos of a tragedy in which she was concerned. The daughter of an
estimable family went astray, and the parents in the first violence of
their anger and grief turned her out of the house. A few months passed,
and then their sober better judgment coming to the surface they
attempted to find and forgive the child they had disowned. But they
searched in vain, and finally almost in despair turned to Sister
Gonzaga. She had not the slightest clue to the missing girl, but she
pledged herself to bring her back. In a short time she located the
erring one in the insane ward of the Philadelphia Hospital. She was a
raving maniac. The girl was restored to her remorseful parents, and by
careful nursing was gradually brought back to reason.
On another occasion when the Sister was missing for an hour or so every
day it was discovered that she was in daily attendance on a poor woman
who lay ill in a small house in a street near by. Although this was
entirely foreign to her duties she regularly called and washed and
dressed the woman.
Sister Gonzaga departed this life on the morning of October 8, 1897, in
her room in St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum in Philadelphia. A piece of
crape, on top of which was fastened a bit of immaculate white ribbon,
fluttered from the bell on the door of the asylum on that day to inform
the passer-by that this marvelous woman had gone to receive her reward.
The obsequies of Sister Gonzaga took place on the morning of Tuesday,
October 12th. On the evening before this event countless numbers took a
last farewell of the devoted Sister. Hundreds of women and men kissed
her dead face as she lay in her coffin. They kissed her hands, which
held the Rosary, and about which was twined the broad, purple ribbon of
her office as Superioress. Some of the women shed tears, but the men
seemed even more deeply affected.
On the morning of the funeral the body lay in state. It was attired in
the habit of the order, with a black gown and the white headdress.
Clasped in her hand was a crucifix and rosary and a small roll of paper,
on which was written the vows that the deceased took when entering upon
her work.
The casket was heavily trimmed in silver, and upon the lid was a plate
containing this inscription: “Sister Mary Gonzaga, died October 8, 1897,
aged 85 years.” Near the top of the lid was a large silver cross, with a
figure of the crucifixion. Upon the head of Sister Gonzaga there reposed
a golden-leaved crown, that was presented to her when she had been 50
years a Sister of Charity.
There was a profusion of floral offerings tastefully arranged about the
head of the casket. In a prominent place was a cross and crown from the
“Children of Mary,” a society composed of former inmates of St. Joseph’s
Orphan Asylum.
The body lay in the community room, beneath the altar. Half a hundred
Sisters of Charity were seated along the side of the room. The entire
apartment was draped in black. By 10 o’clock, when the doors were
closed, several thousand persons had passed around the casket. At length
the hearse drew up before the asylum, and eight students from St.
Vincent’s Seminary carried the coffin out to the street. A long
procession quickly formed and slowly the march to St. Mary’s Church was
begun, the route being down Spruce to Fourth and up Fourth. Arriving at
the church the eight theologians again acted as pall-bearers, and the
casket was carried up the aisle and placed in front of the altar.
Among the mourners were the Board of Managers of the institution,
Sisters of Charity from various houses of the order in Philadelphia and
other cities, Sisters of other orders, the Children of Mary, composed of
those who were formerly inmates of St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum, numbers
of them now mothers of families, and the orphans at present at the home.
In addition to these a large congregation was present, which crowded the
church.
Solemn Requiem Mass celebrated by Very Rev. J. A. Hartnett, C. M., of
St. Vincent’s Seminary, Germantown, who celebrated his first Mass at St.
Joseph’s Asylum chapel. Rev. E. O. Hiltermann, rector of Holy Trinity,
was deacon; Rev. Edward Quinn, C. M., of Baltimore, sub-deacon, and Rev.
John J. Duffy, master of ceremonies. Mr. John F. Walsh, a seminarian,
was thurifer. Bishop Prendergast, who occupied a seat on the Gospel side
of the altar, was attended by Rev. James O’Reilly, of Downingtown, and
Rev. T. B. McCormick, C. M., of St. Vincent de Paul’s.
The sermon was delivered by Rev. John Scully, S. J., rector of St.
Joseph’s, who spoke in substance as follows:
“St. Paul tells us in his first letter to the Corinthians that the
wisdom of this world is foolishness with God, and in order that God may
show to us that this is so the same Apostle tells us that the base, the
lowly of this world and the contemptible hath God chosen and the things
that are not in order to confound the things that are. How true in all
ages have been these inspired words of the Apostle! How true to-day.
This foolishness, this wisdom of the world, so foolish in the eyes of
God, differs in degree and kind in different ages. In our age it shows
itself in the attempt to divide human philanthropy and brotherly love
from religion. Take the intellect and culture of this great city in
which we live, and what does it lay down as law, except it be that
mankind must practice altruism, as they call it, brotherly love, the
civic virtue by which alone society among men can be made possible, yet
not one word about the essential basis which even the modern pagan sees
is necessary. When talking about our rights they say nothing of the
rights of God, and when talking of our obligations to one another they
say nothing of our obligations to God, without which nothing can rest on
a solid basis.
“The wisdom of the world is foolishness. The lowly are chosen by God to
confound the worldly wise. In the days of old God raised David from the
shepherd of a flock to be the ruler of His people. Christ chose the poor
fishermen to be His Apostles. He called St. Vincent de Paul from the
lowly occupation of a shepherd to be a wonder-worker, a marvel, a
propagator of charity, not only in his own days, but up to the present
time. How many millions of dollars are spent in the spirit of modern
philanthropy? For education, in order to raise men up as they think, to
give men a chance in life. Because it is divided from religion it falls.
The late Mr. Vaux said on what was perhaps his last official visit to
the penitentiary: ‘When I first came here I found the children of the
poor and the ignorant. Now I find my own schoolmates.’ Thus are spent
millions in charity, or rather in almsgiving, for it is not worthy to be
called charity. What is the result? It puffs up one with pride and
another with envy.
“The reason why the thing is done differently is the motive under the
acts of thousands and tens of thousands who have given up their lives to
works of charity. Have you ever heard of a soldier wishing to become a
member of a church to which a trained nurse belonged? How different when
the motive is that of Jesus Christ. It is the experience of thousands
who beg to be allowed to die in that religion of the devoted Sisters
who attended them, and it was this that caused a bishop to receive a
petition from a remote part of the diocese for a priest to be sent there
and a church built. He replied that not only was he ignorant that so
many Catholics were there, but that there was even one Catholic. The
answer was, ‘There are no Catholics here yet, but we are men who were
attended by the Sisters and we want to be of the religion of the
Sisters.’ The base, ignoble and contemptible things of this world has
God chosen for His work.
“What is more foolish in the eyes of the world; what is more despised
and held in contempt by the intellectual and the cultured than poverty?
Yet the Sisters are bound by vows of poverty to be as poor as Christ, to
live a life of dependence, depending on one another for their very food
and raiment. What more foolish in the eyes of the world than that! As
the wise man has said, they are a parable of reproach, looked on with
derision. What is more foolish, more base, more spiritless, more
contemptible than to find women, ladies, willingly binding themselves,
not by impulse, but by vocation, not as a mere whim, but perpetually to
live by rule, doing that to which no man ever yet got accustomed, to
purify their acts to make them meritorious in the sight of God? And
obedience! The world hates and loathes obedience, yet our Divine Lord
was obedient even unto death, the death of the cross.
“What is the result of all the so-called charity and philanthropy?
Nothing lasting. Search the hearts of thousands of men, women and
children who have been benefited by the Sisters and you will find there
the love of God.
“Such was the life of the devoted woman who spent 70 years doing good.
Many philanthropists have monuments raised to them and are looked upon
as public benefactors and honored as such. Take him or her who was
greatest among them, or all of them together, what are all compared with
a life such as hers, spent in the care of the poor, sick and needy? One
long life doing good. A life not only an imitation of Jesus Christ in
its acts, but what is more necessary and more difficult, a life in
imitation of His motives. The world looks in reproach upon such a life.
How many times has she been sneered at on the street in her poor dress
and strange bonnet! How often has the world looked with contempt on her
that served the Lord so faithfully. How He loved that soul that did as
He did and for the same reason. All I have said could be said of almost
any other Sister of Charity, but of her, who lived for 70 years in
religion, how much could be said those only can know who lived with her
and knew her and loved her the more they knew her. Of how few can this
be said--to have combined in one and the same person the power of
execution, the power of government, and at the same time the spirit of
kindness and of great-heartedness which does not make commands ever
necessary. Without emotion, without anger. No one ever saw that kindly
face ruffled. This is rare in the world--yes, even rare in the religious
life. To speak of her life and to realize that thousands and tens of
thousands of orphans have had her care, many becoming mothers of
families and bringing up their children influenced by her example. To
realize her hard work in the military hospital, to think of the
thousands and tens of thousands dealt with directly by her or indirectly
through her as superioress. What a world of well doing! Seventy years
in religion; 85 years spent in the serving of Christ. What a wonderful
crown is won by her whose dead body is lying here! Seventy years a
member of the community whose very name is held even by the enemies of
her faith as a synonym of all that is good in humanity--something which
raises humanity and brings it close to God.
“Now the reign of sorrow and desolation has passed away. She has gone
forth from the scene of her labor to her rest. She has gone into the
sight of Jesus Christ, whom in life she made her Friend. Not to meet the
severe face of a Judge, but the smiling countenance of a dear friend.
Who would recall her? Not those who loved her most, who lived with her
in community; not those who were the recipients of her bounty. What so
glorious as a death such as hers after 70 years in God’s service. Says
St. Hilary, ‘Shall I fear to die after I have served my Lord for 70
years?’ So died she, because she knew the good Master she served.
“As theologians tell us, God makes known to his saints the needs of
those whom they have left behind. ’Thou who knowest the needs of thy
children be their advocate and pattern now as ever in life. Be unto us a
mother and pray for us that we may go forth as thou hast from this
valley of affliction and tears to the sunshine of God the Father, to
live forever with His Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
The absolution of the body was performed by Bishop Prendergast, assisted
by the officers of the Mass. The music was the Gregorian chant, with the
introit, offertory, communion and “Benedictus” in harmony. This was
rendered by the students of St. Vincent’s Seminary, Germantown. From
among them were chosen the pall-bearers also. The prominent part taken
in the services by the Congregation of the Mission was due to the fact
that St. Vincent de Paul, its founder, was also founder of the Sisters
of Charity.
Eleanor C. Donnelly, the gifted Philadelphia poetess, has written the
following verses in memory of Sister Gonzaga and inscribed them to
Sister Mary Joseph and her community, with affectionate sympathy:
Thrice in the rounding of one little year,
Saint Mary’s hallowed temple hath revealed
An honored priest reposing on his bier,
His pallid lips in icy silence sealed.
Thrice, have regretful tears bedewed the urn
Where sacerdotal ashes were enshrined;
Youth, age and ripen’d manhood, each in turn,
Unto Saint Mary’s funeral vaults consigned.[13]
And now, before the fading flow’rs have strown
Their last, sweet, withered petals round the place;
Or early snows lie white upon the stone
That shuts from sight each well-remembered face--
Before the shades of the anointed Dead
Have melted from Saint Mary’s aisles away,
We hear once more the mourner’s solemn tread--
Another saint is here in death, to-day!
Dear Sister Gonzaga! good mother, friend
Of Christ’s own little ones--His precious poor!
From Life’s beginning to its blessed end
Thy Words were Wisdom’s, and thy works were pure.
In tender youth, betrothed to thy Lord;
For three-score years and ten His faithful spouse,
He was thine aim--thy solace--thy reward--
Bound to His Sacred Heart by deathless vows!
Toiler of yore with Kenrick, Neuman, Wood,
One of our Faith’s first local pioneers!
So long hath been thy service, and so good,
Thou needest not our prayers or pitying tears!
For death is gain to thee, tho’ loss to all
Thou leavest here. Thy prayers must plead for them.
The orphans’ tears that sparkle on thy pall
Shall prove on high thy brightest diadem.
The dear old heart that loved them now is stilled,
The dear old voice they loved is heard no more;
She waits afar with ardent yearning filled
To bid them welcome to the eternal shore!
Prate not of sculptur’d immortality--
Her children’s virtues shall her heart content
If all who look upon their lives shall see
In each their Mother’s lasting monument.
The old-time friends may leave us, one by one,
The ancient landmarks swiftly fade away--
The good that Sister Gonzaga hath done
Shall live when brass and marble both decay!
Then lay her gently down, in peace and trust,
Where angel-memories shall guard her bed;
Her soul is with her God; her virgin dust
Sleeps sweetly with Saint Mary’s sainted dead!
October 12, 1897. ELEANOR C. DONNELLY.
Sister Gonzaga had a countenance of great benignity and firmness. A high
forehead, a kindly mouth and eyes which even age was not able to dim.
She was ever a model of graciousness and good breeding. The effects of a
good education were visible, and the results of a well-balanced and
well-trained mind seen in a remarkably accurate and strong memory. The
story of her life is well worth the telling, serving as it does as a
model and incentive for those who would be successful in their chosen
vocation.
This chapter upon Sister Gonzaga cannot be concluded better than by the
presentation of the roster of Sisters of the Satterlee Hospital[14]. On
the 9th of June, 1862, it was as follows:
1. Sister Mary Gonzaga Grace, Superioress.
2. Sister Mary Louis.
3. Sister Louise Collins.
4. Sister Ann Joseph Dougherty.
5. Sister Josephine Keleher.
6. Sister Ann Marie Boniface.
7. Sister Clare McGerald.
8. Sister Mary Cremen.
9. Sister Augustine Valentine.
10. Sister Dolores Smith.
11. Sister Mary Xavier Lucet.
12. Sister Angela Mahony.
13. Sister Maria Noonan.
14. Sister Catharine Harty.
15. Sister Edna Heney.
16. Sister Margaret Hepp.
17. Sister Phillippa Connelly.
18. Sister Delphine Wivelle.
19. Sister Neri Matthews.
20. Sister Onesime.
21. Sister Teresa McKenna.
22. Sister Aloysia Daley.
23. Sister Stella Moran.
24. Sister Elizabeth Freze.
25. Sister Adeline Byrnes.
26. Sister Eleanora Tyler.
27. Sister Vincent Saunders.
28. Sister Mary Joseph Sinnott.
29. Sister Magdalen Groell.
30. Sister Cletilda Welty.
31. Sister Pacifica Ulrich.
32. Sister Alphonsa McNichols.
33. Sister Annie O’Leary.
34. Sister Mary Laurence Kane.
35. Sister Felix McQuaid.
36. Sister Mary Bernard Moore.
37. Sister Henrietta.
38. Sister Alix Merceret.
39. Sister Martha Moran.
40. Sister Mary Jane Douglass.
41. Sister Mary Alice Delahunty.
42. Sister Vincentia Waltzing.
43. Sister Martina Tragesser.
44. Sister Marie Mulkern.
45. Sister Julia Fitzgerald.
46. Sister Loretta McGee.
47. Sister Angeline Reilly.
48. Sister Gabriella McCarthy.
49. Sister Petronilla Breen.
50. Sister Amie Dougherty.
51. Sister Marcella Finnigan.
52 Sister Frances Griffin.
53. Sister Mary Josephine Gamel.
54. Sister De Chantal Costello.
55. Sister Mary Eliza Dougherty.
56. Sister Dionysia O’Keefe.
57. Sister Cecelia Groell.
1863.
58. Sister Euphrasia Mattingly.
59. Sister Mary Martha Lynch.
60. Sister Mary Harmer.
61. Sister Mary Bernard Farrell.
62. Sister Ann Teresa Roche.
63. Sister Amelia Davis.
64. Sister Severina Relihan.
65. Sister Rosalie Benligny.
66. Sister Irene McCourt.
67. Sister Clementine McCaffery.
68. Sister Felicita Puls.
69. Sister Cornelia McDonnell.
70. Sister Agnes Weaver.
71. Sister Euphrasia Wittenanes.
72. Sister Ann Maria Shaughonessy.
73. Sister Generosa Foley.
74. Sister Julia Sheehan.
1864.
75. Sister Genevieve Kavenaugh.
76. Sister Celestine Adelsberger.
77. Sister Bernardine Farrell.
78. Sister Josephine Edelen.
79. Sister Antonia Asmuth.
80. Sister Alphonsa McBride.
81. Sister Catharine McQuaid.
82. Sister Clara Doyle.
83. Sister Eloise Lacroix.
84. Sister Ann Joseph Cummin.
85. Sister Francis McDonald.
86. Sister Mary Xavier Vendrome.
1865.
87. Sister Genevieve Garvey.
88. Sister Agnes McDermott.
89. Sister Sylveria O’Neill.