In continental countries, much of that charitable ministration which
with us is left to rates and institutions, is the work of
individuals acting directly under a religious impulse. The
difference is perhaps not entirely in favour of the countries of the
Romish faith; but there is no denying that it leads to our being
presented with pictures of heroic self-devotion and generous
self-sacrifice, such as it would be gratifying to see in our own
country. Many of the forms of charity met with in Catholic states
had their rise in one enthusiastically benevolent man, the
celebrated Vincent de St Paul. Born in 1576, on the skirts of the
Pyrenees, and brought up as a shepherd-boy--possessed of course of
none of the advantages of fortune, this remarkable man shewed a
singular spirit of charity before he had readied manhood. He became
a priest; he passed through a slavery in one of the African
piratical states, and with difficulty made his escape. At length we
see him in the position of a parish pastor in France, exerting
himself in plans for the improvement of the humbler classes, exactly
like those which have become fashionable among ourselves only during
the last twenty years. His exertions succeeded, and generous persons
of rank enabled him to extend them. In a short time, he saw no fewer
than twenty-five establishments founded in his own country, in
Piedmont, Poland, and other states, for charitable purposes.
Stimulated by this success to increase his exertions, he quickly
formed associations of charitable persons, chiefly females, for the
succour of distressed humanity. It was a most wonderful movement for
the age, and must be held as no little offset against the horrible
barbarities arising from religious troubles in the reign of Louis
XIII. Among Vincent's happiest efforts, was that which established
the _Sisters of Charity_, a sodality of self-devoted women, which
exists in vigour at the present day.
During a lengthened residence in Prague, we have had much
satisfaction in visiting the establishment of the Sisters, and
inquiring into their doings. The house, which was founded in the
seventeenth century, and contains seventy inmates, is situated near
to the palace of Prince Lobkowitz, in the Kleine Seite, or that part
of the city which lies on the right bank of the Moldau. It has much
the character of a suburban villa, being surrounded by a kind of
_plaisance_, enclosed in high walls, and containing shrubberies,
alleys, and large clumps of chestnuts. In this pleasant retreat may
often be found such of the Sisters as are not engaged in the more
pressing kind of duties--never quite idle, however; for, even while
seeking recreation, they will be found busied in preparing clothing
for the poor, or perhaps in making medicines from herbs, if not
imparting instruction to children let loose from the school which
forms a part of their establishment. The place is remarkable for its
perfumes, there being assembled here not merely the usual amount of
roses, lilacs, jasmines, tuberoses, and lilies, but a profusion of
aromatic plants, cultivated either for medicinal purposes, or to
serve in the fabrication of essences and powders, which the Sisters
distribute over the world in tiny bottles and small pillow-cases and
bags, in order to raise funds for the poor.
In the house, which, having been erected for a private family, is
not well suited for its present purpose, everything is an example of
cleanliness and order. The hospital is in the main part of the
building, and is fitted up with every possible convenience. A large
apothecaries' hall is attached to it, furnished with every appliance
that medical art has devised, and under the superintendence of a
highly-educated professional man. It is most affecting to enter the
great sick-room, and see the gentle Sisters in their modest attire
ministering to the patients, bending over them with their sweet and
cheerful countenances, as if they felt that relief from pain and
restoration to life and its enjoyments depended on their smiles. It
is scarcely necessary to say, that the hospital is almost always
full. Sometimes, indeed, the floor is occupied with extra beds; for
the Sisters will never close their doors to any who apply, even
though they should have to abandon their own simple places of repose
to the new-comer, and stretch themselves on the bare floor.
We observed, in one of our visits, an old woman who was lying in one
of the beds of the hospital, in a kind of trance, neither sleeping
nor waking, apparently suffering no pain, but quite insensible to
everything which passed around her. Her complaint was that of
extreme old age, mere physical exhaustion. She had been for many
years a pensioner, fed and clothed by the Sisters: having outlived
all her relations, and having no friends in the world but them, she
had come in, as she said herself, 'to die in peace among them.' Not
far from her lay a girl, about sixteen or seventeen years of age,
whose extreme paleness, or rather marble whiteness, vied with the
snowy sheets which covered all but that lily face; and but for the
quivering of the little frill of her cap, and the slow movement of
her large blue eyes, it would have been difficult to believe that it
was not the alabaster figure of some saint that reposed there. The
superior looked kindly and sadly upon her, bent down, kissed her
pale forehead, and went on; and though the sufferer did not move or
speak, nor the feeble head turn, her large blue eyes followed the
reverend mother with an expression which was all its own--an
expression to be felt, deeply, intensely, but which cannot be
described. And who was she, that pale, silent girl? She was an
orphan, neglected by the world, betrayed and abandoned by one who
appeared the only _friend_ she had. Crushed in spirit, enfeebled by
want and misery, without a roof to shelter her young drooping head,
she had been found by the Sisters of Charity sitting alone, _her
eyes fixed on the river_. They took her in, clothed, fed, and warmed
her. They poured into her heart the blessed words of peace and
comfort, till that poor breaking heart gushed forth in a wild tide
of feeling too strong for the feeble frame; and we now saw her
slowly recovering from a frightful fever, the result of past
sufferings, and of that agitation which even a reaction towards hope
had occasioned.
It would be too much for the present sketch to describe the many
invalids before whom we passed in our visits to the sick-chambers of
the Sisters of Charity, though every single case would be a lesson
to humanity. The homeless, the forsaken, the orphan, each had his or
her own bitter history, previous to reposing within the sanctuary of
that blessed retreat; each was attended by some of those benevolent
beings, whose gentle steps and sweet sunny smiles brought peace to
their hearts. None who are destitute are rejected at that gate of
mercy. Whatever their faults may have been, whatever their
frailties, if overtaken by want or sickness--if, deserted and
trampled upon, they sink without any visible hand being stretched
out to save them from despair and death--then do the Sisters of
Charity interpose to succour and to save. To them it is sufficient
that the sufferer requires their aid. There every medical assistance
is promptly given; every comfort, and even luxury.
Most surprising it is to the common worldling to see these gentle
beings thus living entirely for others, seeking no reward but that
inspired by Christian promises and hopes. Nor is it mere drudgery
and self-denial which constitute their great merit. When humanity
calls from the midst of danger, whether in the shape of pestilence
or of war, they are equally unfailing. It has been our lot to see a
city taken by storm, the streets on fire and half-choked with ruins,
and these ruins thickly strewed with the dead and dying. There,
before the wild scene had been in the least calmed--amid smoke, and
rain, and the frequent rattling fire of musketry--we have seen the
black dresses and long white kerchiefs of the Sisters of Charity
flitting about, emblems of mercy in a world which might otherwise
seem only fit for demons. The place we speak of was Arcis-sur-Aube.
Napoleon, who looked on the system of this sisterhood 'as one of the
most sublime conceptions of the human mind,' was then in the act of
falling back with 30,000 men, after having been attacked the evening
before (March 19, 1814) by 130,000 Austrians. He was within three
weeks of the prostration of his power, and he must have felt
bitterly the crushing reverses he was experiencing. Yet he stopped
on the nearly demolished bridge of the town, and ordered 300
Napoleons to be given out of his then scanty resources to the
Sisters of Charity, of whose devotion he had been an eye-witness
from the commencement of the attack. As he crossed the bridge
immediately afterwards, part of it gave way, and he was precipitated
into the Aube, but, by the help of his horse, soon gained the safe
bank.
The good works of the Sisters do not stop with their exertions for
the sick and miserable. They have also their schools for orphans and
foundlings. Here the tender human plant, perhaps deserted by a
heartless mother, often gains more than it has lost. It is only to
infants in these extraordinary circumstances that they are called
upon to give shelter, for the children of the poor in general are
provided for in public establishments. When we last visited the
convent in Prague, we found about thirty girls entertained as
inmates. As soon as they are capable of learning, they are
instructed in every branch of domestic economy; and as they grow up,
and their several talents develop themselves, they are educated
accordingly: some for instructresses, either in music or any general
branch of education; others, as seamstresses, ladies-maids, cooks,
laundry-maids, house-maids. In short, every branch of useful
domestic science is taught.
When the girls attain sufficient age and experience to occupy the
several situations for which they have been instructed--that is,
from seventeen to eighteen, the superior of the convent procures
them a place in the family of some of her friends or acquaintance,
and always, so far as lies in her power, with a mistress as much as
possible suited to the intelligence and instruction of her
_protégée_. The day of separation, however, is always painful. It
is, in fact, the parting of a mother and her child. We have seen the
orphan cling to her adopted mother, and as she knelt to receive her
blessing, bathe her hands in tears of gratitude and affection; while
the reverend superior would clasp her to her bosom, and recommend to
her adopted child the blessed principles which she had inculcated
from her infancy. Nor do they leave the home of their childhood
empty. Each girl on quitting the convent is provided with a little
_trousseau_ or outfit for her first appearance in the world: this
consists of two complete suits of clothes--an ordinary and a better
one, four petticoats, four chemises, six pair of stockings, the same
number of gloves, and two pair of shoes. We have seen many of these
orphans and foundlings in after-life; some of them occupying the
most respectable situations, as the wives of opulent citizens, and
others filling places of the most important trust in some of the
highest families of the empire; we have also had several in our own
service, and have always had reason to congratulate ourselves on our
good-fortune in engaging them.
One of the first principles of education in the orphan schools of
the Sisters of Charity is economy: while they spare nothing in the
cause of humanity, so far as their means will go, the strictest
frugality reigns throughout, and is always inculcated as the
foundation of the means of doing good. Consequently, all of whom we
have had any experience, who were educated in these charitable
institutions, never failed, however humble their situation, to make
some little savings: one whom we have at this moment in our eye, and
who not many years since served us in the capacity of cook, and
fulfilled her charge with great fidelity and zeal, has, by her
extraordinary industry and economy, collected in the savings' bank
in Prague no less than 700 florins, or L.70 sterling. And yet with
all this economy she was so charitable and liberal in giving of her
own to the poor, that we have often had to caution her against
extravagance in that respect. By this spirit of economy, we have
also known several of the orphans and foundlings arrive at a degree
of independence which enables them in their turn to assist the
deserted generation of to-day, and to do for them as they themselves
had been done by. Many also have been the means of rescuing others
from crime and starvation by conducting them to that blessed
institution, to which, under Heaven, they owe all their prosperity
and happiness in life.
Of these charitable communities there are many orders, which differ
from the above chiefly in name, and in the Sisters never quitting
their sanctuary or the precincts of their gardens. The Sisters of
Charity, properly so called, not being vowed to seclusion, are more
generally known to the world, who see them, and therefore believe
that they exist for charitable purposes, while of those of whom they
see nothing they know nothing; and should the casual observer meet
in the street on a festival, or day of examination, a column of from
300 to 800 children, from six to ten or twelve years of age, neatly
clothed, and whose happy countenances and beautiful behaviour
bespeak the care with which their early education has been
conducted--it never once occurs to him that these are the children
of the poor, the children of the free schools of the 'Sisters' of
the Ursaline Convent, or of the Congregation of Notre Dame, or of
some other religious establishment of the kind. But perhaps we shall
have an opportunity hereafter of introducing these invisible Sisters
of Charity to the notice of our readers.
Suffice it now to say, that the 'Sisters of Mercy,' the 'Ursalines,'
the 'Congregations of Notre Dame,' the 'English Ladies,' and many
others, are all in practice Sisters of Charity.
It is not uncommon to hear their condition deplored, as one from
which all earthly enjoyments are excluded, or as a kind of death in
life. But personal observation has given us different ideas on this
subject. Within those lofty, and sometimes sullen-looking walls
which enclose the convents of the sisterhoods we speak of, we have
spent some of the most agreeable hours of our life, conversing with
refined and enlightened women on the works of beneficence in which
they were engaged; everything bearing an aspect of that cheerfulness
and animation which only can be expected in places where worthy
duties are well performed.