“Whereas, The venerable Sister Anthony departed this life on Wednesday afternoon, after a life of usefulness in taking care of the sick and doing boundless charity, and
“Whereas, She was one of the most active nurses during the war, doing many kind, silent acts, and
“Whereas, She will be buried from St. Peter’s Cathedral, Saturday, at 9 o’clock, be it
“Resolved, That, in order to show our gratitude and affection for her and appreciation of her services as an army nurse, we attend her funeral and invite all other posts to participate with us.”
It is the usual custom for the Sisters of Charity to be buried from the mother house, but in recognition of the great services of Sister Anthony the Archbishop ordered that the funeral be from the Cathedral. The body remained at the Foundling Asylum, where she died, until Friday, when the remains were brought to Cincinnati and laid in state at the Good Samaritan Hospital. The following morning the last services were held in the Cathedral. The scene was a memorable one. A vast multitude gathered near the church; only a very small proportion was able to gain admittance to the sacred edifice. As the cortege approached heads were bowed in grief and silent reverence. Not a wreath or flower relieved the simple severity of the pall, but a dozen men stood about the casket, its guard of honor. These were the men who on the field of battle, in the rain of bullet and shell, had watched the coming of that form, that now lay cold within the narrow house, with anxiety born of despair. The battle flags now furled and draped in their hands had been the beacon that had led her where pain and fever raged, and it was meet that the Stars and Stripes should follow to her tomb.
In the casket’s wake came the guard of honor and one hundred Sisters of Charity in their sombre habits. The forward pews had been reserved for the Sisters and orphans of the asylum, which the dead Sister had founded. The white head-dresses of the little girls and white collars of the boys were in marked contrast to the black garb of the Sisters, silhouetted against the brilliant background. Archbishop Elder, Bishop Byrne, of Nashville, a large number of priests and fifty seminarians were present.
Archbishop Elder celebrated the mass, assisted by the Rev. J. C. Albrinck. Rev. John H. Schoenelt was the deacon of the mass, and Rev. Father Van Briss sub-deacon. The deacons of honor were the Very Rev. John Murray and the Very Rev. John M. Mackay. Rev. Henry Moeller was master of ceremonies.
Bishop Byrne, of Nashville, who preached the sermon, said among other things: “We are come together to pay the last tribute to one who is worthy of such a tribute—to one whose figure was a familiar one on the streets of Cincinnati, and whom you all knew and loved. Her fame extended beyond the limits of the State and was not circumscribed by the limits of a continent, and the Church, always in sympathy with such nobility of character, has draped her altars in black. Though she is dead she lives. Every prophecy of the word conspires to express this, that she has gone to live forever. That prophecy bids us to exult for a soul gone to Christ. These are the words of the epistles, these are the sentiments expressed by the Church. * * * Christ was her inspiration, and for this reason she trod the battlefield and entered hospitals pregnant with pestilence. Her presence was more to those brave sons of America than that of an angel. Yet she was only a type of many. For the same reason she loved the waifs and castaways, the destitute, afflicted and lowly. I repeat that she was but the type of many, and every Sister of Charity does these acts. One thing more precious than all she has left us and that is her glorious example. To her own Sisters, to her own community, not to Catholics alone, her example is precious. Her fidelity and devotion should be an inspiration.”
The words of the prelate impressed his listeners, as was evidenced by their tears, and when his Grace, the Archbishop, arose there was emotion in his voice as he said:
“You have heard it said what lessons may be drawn from this sad occasion. The pleasures and pains of this world pass away, and only the things done for God last always. Only what is done for the world to come lays by as an eternal treasure. We owe a debt of gratitude to her whose life was so quiet and yet so glorious. We owe her a debt of gratitude for the example she has set us for our encouragement.”