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.