THE STANTON HOSPITAL.
The authorities in Washington invite the Sisters of Mercy to take
charge of both the institutions at the capital and the Western
Pennsylvania Hospital, in Pittsburg. Death of the Superior of the
Stanton Hospital. Buried with military honors. President Lincoln
commends the Sisters for their self-sacrificing labors. A warm
tribute from Father Canevin how the Civil war helped to wipe out
religious bigotry.
[Illustration]
In the autumn of 1862 application was made by the authorities in
Washington to the Mother Superior of the Sisters of Mercy for nurses to
take charge of the wounded soldiers in the Stanton Hospital in
Washington City. Accordingly, four Sisters from the mother house in
Pittsburg were appointed for the work. They hastily prepared and
departed for the scene of duty, arriving in Washington the day before
Thanksgiving. Finding that the Stanton, a long row of one-story frame
buildings, was not quite ready for occupancy, the Sisters remained for a
few days with the Sisters of Mercy, who were in charge of the Douglas
Hospital then in operation in Washington. These Sisters were members of
the Baltimore Community, founded some years previously from the house
at Pittsburg. In a short time the new hospital was opened, and the
Sisters repaired thither, and began their work by caring for one hundred
and thirty wounded soldiers, who had just been carried in from an
engagement. On December 8 four more Sisters arrived from Pittsburg,
making in all eight, which number constituted the staff of Sisters
engaged in the Stanton Hospital. Some of these did not remain until the
close of the war, but were relieved as circumstances required by Sisters
from home. These changes were not made without necessity, as the health
of several of the original volunteers was hopelessly shattered by the
severe duties entailed upon them. To the bodily fatigue incident to the
care of so many patients was added much mental anxiety, caused by the
responsibility attending the charge of grave cases. The successful issue
in many severe surgical operations depended almost entirely on the
vigilance of the nurse.
Too much praise cannot be given to the officials of the Stanton Hospital
for their careful supervision and attention to the patients, and the
unvarying kindness and confidence reposed in the Sisters. The surgeon in
charge, Dr. John A. Liddell, and his assistant, Dr. Philip Davis,
deserve special mention. Abundant supplies of everything needful for the
sick were most liberally provided. As far as possible no want of the
patients was left ungratified.
This was a source of great satisfaction to the Sisters, and lightened
their cares considerably. What has been said of the work of Sisters in
other hospitals might be repeated here. Their labors were arduous and
unceasing. After every battle numbers of wounded were brought in, and
received unwearied attention day and night. As a rule the soldiers
appreciated the work of the Sisters, and regarded them as their best
friends. Often patients, when convinced that the hope of recovery was
gone, confided their last wishes to the Sisters. They were frequently
called upon to send messages to the loved ones far away, and write
letters to absent friends. These and similar acts of kindness, with
words of comfort and encouragement, made the day more than full “pressed
down and running over” with meritorious acts. The Sisters frequently had
the consolation of witnessing happy deathbed scenes, often of persons
who, under less favorable surroundings might not have enjoyed this great
blessing. Entire freedom of conscience was secured to all, each patient
being at liberty to summon to his side the spiritual adviser of his
choice. The Catholics were attended by the Jesuit Fathers, among whom
Revs. Father Wagit, Brady and Roccofort were untiring in their efforts
to console the sick and fortify the dying with the consolations of
religion. The Sisters remained at the Stanton until the close of the
war, when, their services being no longer required, they returned to
Pittsburg, where they resumed their usual avocations.
The Western Pennsylvania Hospital in Pittsburg was used by the
Government for a military hospital at this time, principally for
Pennsylvania soldiers. Such men as were able to bear the fatigue of
transportation from Washington or other places were sent to this
institution in order to make room at the Stanton for cases direct from
the field of battle. The Sisters of Mercy were invited to give their
services, a request with which they cheerfully complied, early in 1863.
In this institution the Sisters experienced the same courtesy from the
officers as was extended to them elsewhere. Every arrangement
compatible with existing circumstances was made to lighten their duties.
In both these hospitals a chapel was fitted up and Mass was celebrated
daily, which such convalescent patients as desired were at liberty to
attend. The Sisters continued their work in the Pennsylvania Hospital
until May, 1865. In Washington and Pittsburg the members of the Sanitary
Commission gave very efficient aid towards alleviating the conditions of
the patients by providing delicacies and reading matter. After each
visit supplies were left in the hands of the Sisters to be distributed
at their discretion.
The Douglas Hospital in Washington had been erected out of three large
dwellings in the then fashionable part of the Capital City. It was so
named from the fact that the most important of these three houses had
been the residence of the famous Senator of that name.
Sister M. Collette O’Connor was in charge of this institution, and was
revered by all who became acquainted with her. She died at the hospital,
July 16, 1864, and her remains were escorted to Baltimore and buried
with military honors.
One day President Lincoln visited the Stanton Hospital in Washington.
Those who were fortunate to be present on this remarkable occasion
received impressions that should remain ever fresh in their minds. None
of the Sisters had ever met the Chief Executive, but when a tall,
angular man with just the suggestion of a stoop about the shoulders
sauntered up the path leading to the main entrance of the hospital they
intuitively knew that it was President Lincoln. The homely, wrinkled
face, with its careworn appearance, and the patient, almost pathetic
eyes appealed at once to the tender sensibilities of the Sisters. They
knew little, and were without leisure to inquire, about the merits of
either the Northern or Southern side of the bloody controversy then
raging at its height, but they had a keen appreciation of human
suffering and human sympathy, and their hearts went out at once to this
plain man who so uncomplainingly carried the woes of the nation upon his
shoulders.
[Illustration: GRANT, SHERMAN AND SHERIDAN.]
The President went from cot to cot shaking hands with the poor patients
and addressing them in the jocular manner he frequently employed to
conceal the anguish caused by the sight of so much suffering. On
occasions of this character the very simplicity and naturalness of the
President only served to bring his greatness into brighter relief. The
Sisters had a good opportunity of observing the man who had been called
from his modest home in Illinois to become ruler of the Republic at the
most serious crisis in its history. They saw in him a person who with a
single stroke of the pen was destined to liberate nearly four millions
of slaves. They saw a man who was daily performing the most painful
duties under the most trying circumstances, but who did each act “with
malice toward none; with charity for all.” They saw in him the one
distinctively grand figure of the war. They realized with others that
amid the clash and roar and smoke of battle; amid the perplexities and
contentions of legislative halls, and the difficulties and differences
of Cabinets, there arose pre-eminent above all the peaceful, pathetic,
powerful personality of Abraham Lincoln.
Mr. Lincoln remained at the hospital for some time. With the trained eye
of a man of affairs he observed the cleanliness of the place, and did
not fail to notice all that the Sisters were doing for the comfort and
relief of the patients. When he departed he cordially shook hands with
each of the Sisters, and congratulated them on the work they were
performing in the cause of humanity.
Rev. J. F. Regis Canevin, rector of St. Paul’s Cathedral, Pittsburg, has
paid a high tribute to the work of the Sisters of Mercy in the late
war.[20] A passing reference is made to some of the events already
detailed in this chapter, but it is such an able presentation of the
case that it deserves reproduction in these pages. Father Canevin said
in part:
“The Sisters went forth from their peaceful convent homes to serve their
God and country in the Stanton Military Hospital at Washington and in
the Western Pennsylvania Hospital at Pittsburg. The military physicians
regarded them as valuable assistants, and oftentimes the nuns had the
entire charge of the patients, administering of medicines and arranging
bandages with deft and skillful hands.
“The Sisters had four hundred and fifty wounded men under their care in
the Stanton Hospital at one time, and after the second battle of
Fredericksburg, December 13, 1862, a number of Confederate wounded were
laid side by side with those whom they had wounded.
“‘It was a beautiful sight,’ said one of the Sisters, ‘to see how
tenderly the convalescent Union soldiers helped to nurse back the health
of those whom they had so fiercely fought a short time before. Those who
are first in war are also first in peace.’
“‘The bravest are the tenderest,’
“‘The loving are the daring.’”
“Southern sympathizers in Washington sent large supplies of provisions
and delicacies for their Confederate friends. ‘We took all they sent,’
said a veteran Sister, ‘but we saw that the boys in blue fared as well
as their foes.’ This was holy simplicity. At the time the Sisters were
engaged in their work of mercy in the hospitals and on the battlefields
of the North some of their companions who had left their side a few
years before were under the shot and shell which were hurled from land
and water when Grant besieged Vicksburg, and fear and famine stalked the
Confederate camp and city. The Sisters followed the ill-fated army
through all the hard fortunes of the struggle; nursed the sick, stanched
the blood, bound up the wounds of those who fell on the battlefield, and
spoke words of consolation and hope to the dying.
“We can read in military annals how the dying soldier fancied a mother
or a sister to be supporting his head as the black-robed nun bade him
confide in the Saviour of Calvary, and poured refreshing drops on his
lips parched and quivering in the throes of death. It was loyalty to the
Divine Master that caused these women to serve on both sides of the
line.
“After the war the Vicksburg Community returned to their convent and
found their latest golden opportunity in the South in the great yellow
fever scourge of 1878, which spread sorrow and gloom over the land,
until even hope was almost paralyzed. Yes, when fear had dissolved all
the ties which hold society together; when succor could not be bought
with gold; when the strongest natural affections yielded to the love of
life, then a band of Sisters of Mercy, led by the same fearless heroines
from Pittsburg who fifteen years before had seen duty on the
battlefield, were to be found bending over the plague-stricken couch,
praying, ever encouraging and holding up to the last before the expiring
patient the image of the Cross.
“When the brave men of both armies had fought out the nation’s quarrel,
and when the roar of cannon died away and the smoke of battle was lifted
from the land, the bright sun of peace shone upon a people more united
than they had ever been before. Religious bigotry and sectarian hatred
had received a deadly stroke. There was more Christianity amid the rough
scenes of war than there had been in preceding years of peace. The best
blood of the Roman Catholic and of the Protestant co-patriot had
reddened the same stream and mingled on many a well-fought field; side
by side they met the charge; side by side they repelled the shock; side
by side they fell. In the same pit their bodies were deposited. The dew
fell from Heaven upon their union in the grave.
“Misfortune had taught them to know and respect and trust and love each
other. Those who survived learned to despise the cowards and hypocrites
and bigots who at home, in ignorance or malice, had armed man against
his brother, and in the name of religion kept us in perpetual conflict.
The soldier descendant of the New England Puritan, and of the
Papist-hating Orangeman, discovered that his Catholic comrade was a
brave, generous-hearted man, and a consistent Christian; that the Roman
Catholic Church was not the sworn enemy of free institutions; that the
Sisters of that Church were kind, earnest, hard-working, useful and
devoted women in the service of that Christ whose doctrine is that we
should love one another. And thus the Sisters of Mercy returned from
war to find the good they and other religious women had done had won the
grateful recognition of the whole country. Thoughtful men learned from
their deeds that even a Covenanter need not fear to offend the Creator
in acknowledging that there rested a holy influence in hearts
consecrated to God.”
A Sister of Mercy at Charleston, under date of September 23, 1865, thus
writes to a friend concerning the destitution in that city and State:
“Every phase of life has been so upturned here that the once rich, who
were wont to assist the poor, are now wretchedly poor themselves, and
are grateful for a little of the common necessaries of life when given
them. We have called upon the Northern storekeepers here and received
some assistance from them, but we cannot call too often. Few of our own
people are able to go into business; none can afford to give at present,
though the will is good. If, my dear lady, you can do aught in this
emergency, you will perform a great act of charity. Could you see these
people as we do your heart would ache. Sad eyes swimming in tears;
little delicate hands skinned from the wash-tub, and hearts without hope
for the future. I saw last week a lady, one of the wealthiest a short
time ago, lying on a miserable pallet, the room without furniture, where
she once had every comfort. The house had been stripped of everything,
linen, plate and wines of all kinds; her limbs were covered with sores,
occasioned by anxiety of mind and poverty of blood; the result of almost
starvation. Were this an isolated case, it could be relieved, but,
unfortunately, the city abounds in them. The planters for miles around
are homeless, and are compelled to take refuge in the city without any
means of subsistence.”
Sisters DeSales and DeChantel, and some five other Sisters of the
Sisters of Mercy arrived in New York in the latter part of 1865 from
White Sulphur Springs, Montgomery County, Virginia, where they were
engaged attending the sick and wounded soldiers in the hospital for the
last four years. They were accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Croghan, of
Charleston, who was also engaged during the war as chaplain in the same
hospital.
According to the New York News, at the time of Lee’s surrender there
were over three hundred sick and wounded at this particular hospital. It
adds: “Over sixty of these were Federal soldiers, and not more than two
days’ rations to meet their wants. The Sisters were among strangers,
having neither money nor worldly influence, but, compelled by the spirit
of their holy calling, they devised means to procure provisions enough
to suffice for more than six weeks for the patients and remained with
them until all had either convalesced or died.
“About the 22d of May they proceeded to Lynchburg. General Gregg
received them at this port most courteously and offered them every means
in his power to prosecute their journey to Washington, where they again
applied to General Hardie for transportation to Charleston. In this they
were not successful. General Hardie refused to send them, on the ground
that, being non-combatants, no provision had been made by the
authorities in Washington for such persons. Finally, through the
kindness of some private gentleman in Washington, Father Croghan was
enabled to procure transportation to New York, where they found
themselves strangers and penniless, and with hardly sufficient wearing
apparel to enable them to appear in public. On hearing of their
embarrassing circumstances, the Rev. William Quinn, of St. Peter’s,
Barclay street, called a few of his parishioners together on Sunday last
with a view to raising the necessary funds to enable these good Sisters
to return to their homes. The result was that, aided by Judge Andrew
Clarke, Esq., and a few other gentlemen, the sum of eleven hundred and
forty-eight dollars was collected in a few days. On Saturday last this
amount was presented to Sister DeSales, at the Convent of the Sacred
Heart, in Seventeenth street, by a committee consisting of the Rev.
William Quinn, Dennis Quinn and Andrew Clarke. On receiving the amount
Sister DeSales, on behalf of herself and the community she represented,
expressed her earnest thanks to the donors, promising that their
kindness should never be forgotten by their community.”
The Convent at Charleston belonging to these Sisters was burned to the
ground, having caught fire from the shells thrown into the city during
the bombardment of the Federal forces.