HOW I EDUCATED MYSELF.
I BECOME SUPERINTENDENT OF THE THIRD FLOOR AT ST. VINCENT'S.
In the order of the Sisters of Charity of Providence, the rules restrict
the members to certain reading. The books we were allowed to read were
those on the Roman Catholic religious practices, such as "Christian
Perfection" by the Jesuit, Alphonsus Rodriguez, a set of books on
"Meditation" by St. Ignatius, also a Jesuit, a book on the "Conferences
of St. Vincent de Paul," a prayer book, a manual of community prayers,
and a book of rule. If a sister should wish to read any other books,
outside of a few like these I have named, she must have permission from
her superior, even to the reading of "The Lives of the Saints."
The reading of secular, or profane, as it is called, books are never
allowed under any conditions. No magazines, newspapers or periodicals
are they ever allowed to read. If there happened to be an article in
some religious magazine or paper that it was decided to let the sisters
read, it was cut out and handed to them, hereby having permission to
read it. Think of the terrible darkness the poor girls are kept in,
with nothing to develop their mental faculties, nothing to read except
the few chosen books, and when you have read one you have read all, and
this over and over again, year in and year out.
When I came to St. Vincent's Hospital, I had been in the order about
twelve years. Twelve years of almost silence; twelve years of Latin
prayers; twelve years of communion and confession; twelve years of Roman
convent-slavery; twelve years of retrogression.
I found myself almost lost as to how to talk intelligibly to the doctors
and patients. My vocabulary was certainly very limited. I felt the grave
necessity of doing something to aid me in my work. But how? That was the
great question in my mind for some time. I had been taught that God
would punish me if I dared to read anything except what I was allowed.
And, believe me, even twelve years' experience in the convent had
changed my views of Romanism but very little, if any.
Finally, one day while on the daily routine, a newspaper came to my
notice, and I dared to read just one line. I waited a day or two to see
if God would punish me. Then, when nothing extraordinary happened, I
dared to read a few lines more, and I waited a few days again to see
what God would do.
At last the opportunity came. In one of the rooms I found a book, by the
name of "At the Mercy of Tiberius." I dared to read it, and oh, how I
enjoyed that novel. It was the first book of that nature, profane
reading, that I had ever read. But trouble was brewing. Some sister had
seen me reading, and although she did not know exactly what it was, she
knew that it was not a religious book, and she reported me to the
superior. When the superior asked me about it, I told her I had been
reading a book, where it could be found and offered to go and get it for
her. But I had her "bluffed" and she told me to never mind.
It took me about six months to read this first book, as I had to steal
away and read for only a few minutes at a time. Where do you suppose I
went to do this un-Roman, "un-Christian" act of endeavoring to enlighten
my mind? In dark closets, bath-rooms, and in fact any place I could
secret myself, so I would not be seen by some of the other sisters. For
it would mean a reprimand and very often a penance, and the sister thus
charged with having broken this point of the "holy" rules, is held under
suspicion.
For some time after this it was a problem to my mind as to how I was to
obtain other reading. In time I made friends among those who came to the
hospital, and very often these good people, mostly Protestant or
non-Catholic, would present me with some little token, showing their
appreciation of the kindness shown them, as is done to most sisters.
Instead of accepting money or other gifts, which by rule had to be
turned over to the superior, I would ask them to give me some book,
generally leaving the nature of it to their discretion, if I thought I
could trust them. Then I would warn them to be very careful when they
gave it to me that no sister saw them do so, as it would mean trouble
for me.
In this manner I received much good reading, books that were very
instructive. When a book was too large to carry around in my big
pockets, I would cut or tear off a piece of it, and throw the remaining
portion on some old, dusty cupboard in the attic, until I had read the
piece torn off, then get a small ladder or box and tear off another
piece, and so on until I had finished reading the entire book. One good
friend gave me a small dictionary, which was a great help to me. Another
gave me a book of word study, which I covered with a prayer-book cover
and studied in chapel. This was a case of "Johnny Morgan wasn't here."
By stealing, thieving and lying, so to speak, in this manner I read and
studied for a great many years, and I credit my final escape from
darkness and ignorance largely to the fact that I had independence
enough to read and friends kind enough to give me these books.
During the summer of 1899, I was appointed to the superintendency of the
third floor of St. Vincent's Hospital. In this position, which I held
for twelve years, I found a few more minutes occasionally to read, and
to exercise the little independence I possessed. The result, the more I
read, the more independent I became, and this was one of the grave
charges brought against me when I was at last transferred, or, I might
say, dragged from Portland.
One of the great responsibilities of the office of superintendent was the
caring of the priest's apartment which was on my floor. There was the
chaplain of the hospital who resided in this apartment, and he nearly
always had from one to four "wafer God manufacturers" visiting him, and
you may be sure it was not a small care to see that these "gentlemen"
had everything of the best, principally in the dining-room. I always had
to take particular care to see that there was plenty of cream for their
tables when possibly some of the patients had to do without or take
skimmed milk, and many times the over supply would sour before it could
be used. I just mention cream, but it was the same about many other
things, it was always the very best of everything obtainable--cigars and
liquors included. Yes, I have carried many bottles of wine to these
priests, as well as carrying baskets of empty bottles down the back
stairs, that had been emptied by these "holy celibate men of God." A
large refrigerator was kept especially for this apartment with a large
padlock on the door. It might have contaminated these "holy men of God"
if their food had happened to have been mixed with that of a wicked
secular, you know.
[Illustration: _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 to teach 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 penances or 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."