A sketch of the remarkable labors of Sister Mary Gonzaga and her work as the executive head of a hospital where 50,000 sick and wounded soldiers were cared for. The chaplain kept busy preparing men for death. Bishop Wood visits the hospital and administers the sacrament of confirmation. A soldier who was saved from the stocks. A veteran’s tribute.12

As stated in the previous chapter many car-loads of wounded soldiers were conveyed from Gettysburg to the Satterlee Hospital in Philadelphia. Sister Mary Gonzaga, who was in charge of this institution, deserves special mention in connection with her work during the war. If nobility of character, earnestness and purity of purpose, great natural executive ability, together with unaffected piety and humility tell for anything, this Sister will rank high in the bright galaxy of self-sacrificing women whose lives have illumined the history of Catholic Sistershoods in the United States. Celebrating her golden jubilee, April 12, 1877, she could even then look back over a series of years in the course of which she has been school teacher, nurse, Mother Superior, *head of a large orphan asylum and the executive of a great military hospital, where nearly 50,000 sick and wounded soldiers received the self-sacrificing attention of a staff of sixty or seventy Sisters of Charity. Sister Gonzaga, just before her death, was credited with being the oldest living Sister of Charity in the United States. She spent the tranquil evening of a busy and eventful life as the Mother Emeritus of St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum, one of the magnificent charities of the City of Brotherly Love.

This venerable woman’s name in the world was Mary Agnes Grace. She came from a respected Baltimore family, being born in that city in 1812. She was baptized in St. Patrick’s Church, and there and in a Christian home received her preliminary religious training. In December, 1823, she was sent to St. Joseph’s Academy, Emmitsburg, Md., where she proved to be a most diligent pupil. The four years she spent in this institution helped to make that certain foundation upon which her subsequent successful career was built. She had early conceived the idea of retiring from the world and devoting her life entirely to the service of God. Accordingly, on March 11, 1827, she was received into the community of the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul. In April, 1828, in company with two other Sisters, she opened a school in Harrisburg. On the 25th of March, 1830 she made her holy vows.

In May, 1830, Sister Gonzaga was sent to Philadelphia to St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum, with which her future was to be so intimately connected. The Asylum at that time was situated on Sixth street, near Spruce, adjoining Holy Trinity Church. On October 24, 1836, the institution was removed to the site of the present asylum at the southwest corner of Seventh and Spruce streets. Four Sisters and fifty-one children comprised the population then. The Sisters were Sister Petronilla, Sister Theodosia, Sister Mary John and Sister Mary Gonzaga. Sister Petronilla died on August 3, 1843, sincerely mourned, and was succeeded by Sister Gonzaga, who remained in charge until October, 1844. Here she went on with her good work, placid and calm in the midst of the worrying turbulence of anti-Catholic bitterness and persecution, which at times threatened the lives of innocent women and children. In the latter part of 1844 she was sent to Donaldsonville, La., as assistant in the Novitiate, which at that time was for the purpose of graduating Southern postulants.

In the following year Sister Gonzaga was transferred to New Orleans. On March 19, 1851, she returned to St. Joseph’s Asylum in Philadelphia to re-assume her former charge. In 1855 she was sent in an administrative capacity to the mother house of the Order in France, where she remained for a year, obtaining and imparting much valuable information regarding the work and duties of Sisters. In May, 1856, she returned to the United States, going to St. Joseph’s, Emmittsburg where she filled the office of Procuratrix. In January, 1857, she returned to Philadelphia, taking charge of her old love, St. Joseph’s Asylum, for the third time.

The beginning of the Civil War a few years later was to mark one of the most eventful epochs in the career of Sister Gonzaga, and to develop extraordinary gifts and qualities of administration. The Satterlee Military Hospital was established in Philadelphia. Dr. Walter F. Atlee, an honored physician of the Quaker City, felt that the interests of the Government and of the soldiers would be benefited if the Sisters of Charity were installed as nurses in the army hospital. He had several interviews with Surgeon-General Hammond and with the Secretary of War, Edwin M. Stanton. As a result of this the Sisters of Charity were invited to assume charge. On June 9, 1862, Sister Gonzaga, accompanied by 40 Sisters, assembled from all parts of the United States, entered upon the duties in the hospital. It is difficult to estimate the good work done by the Sisters during the period they spent in this place, which has been aptly styled the “shadow of the valley of death.” In those three momentous years the Sisters nursed and cared for upwards of 50,000 soldiers. Only those who have had the care of the sick can begin to estimate the amount of ceaseless labor and patience involved in such a vast undertaking. The sick and wounded comprised both Union and Confederate soldiers. The gentleness of the Sisters soon endeared them to all under their charge.

In securing the necessary number of Sisters a requisition was made by Surgeon-General Hammond for twenty-five from the mother house at Emmittsburg. They were sent to Philadelphia at once to take their places in the new hospital. To quote one of the Sisters, the place was so large that “they could scarcely find the entrance.” The workmen about the grounds looked at the Sisters in amazement, thinking perhaps that they belonged to some flying artillery. At 12 o’clock they repaired to the kitchen for dinner, and by the time this meal was finished they found plenty of work had been planned for them. One hundred and fifty men who had been brought in were in the wards. All of the Sisters went to work and prepared nourishment for the men, most of whom looked at them in astonishment, not knowing what kind of persons they might be, but among the number was a French soldier named Pierre, who immediately recognized the garb of the “Daughters of Charity.” In a short time the number of patients was increased to nine hundred.

On the 16th of August over fifteen hundred of the sick and wounded were brought to the hospital, most of them from the Battle of Bull Run or Manassas. Many had died on the way from sheer exhaustion, others were in a dying state, so that the chaplain was kept busy in preparing the men for death. The wards being now crowded, tents were erected in the yard to accommodate over one thousand patients, for the Sisters at that time had not less than forty-five hundred in the hospital. When they first went to Satterlee their quarters were very limited, consisting of one small room, about seven feet square, which served as a chapel. Another, somewhat larger, answered the purpose of a dormitory by night and community room by day. Dr. Hayes soon supplied four more rooms, one of which was for a chapel. The soldiers, who were very much interested, took up a collection among themselves and gave the money to the Sisters, requesting them to purchase ornaments or whatever was needed for the chapel. They did so at different times until they finally had a good supply of everything that was necessary. They even secured new seats and sanctuary carpet. The men stipulated that when the hospital was closed the Sisters should take everything for the orphans.

In April, 1863, Rt. Rev. Bishop Wood administered the sacrament of Confirmation in the little chapel to thirty-one soldiers, most of whom were converts and two of whom were over 40 years of age. In February, 1864, forty-four others received the sacrament of Confirmation. One man was unable to leave his bed, and the Bishop was kind enough to go to the ward in his robes to confirm the man. After the ceremony the prelate distributed little souvenirs of his visit and then asked the Catholics who were present to approach the railing of the altar. To his great astonishment as well as satisfaction all in the chapel came forward. He gave a little exhortation and then dismissed them. Mass was said at 6 o’clock in the morning, and many of the patients were in the chapel at half-past four, in order to secure seats. This was generally the case on great festivals, although some of the crippled men had to be carried in the arms of their comrades. At 3 o’clock on Sundays and festivals Vespers were sung in the chapel, in which the patients felt quite privileged to join. In Lent they had the Way of the Cross, and in May the devotions of the month of Mary. The chapel was always crowded at these times. The soldiers took great delight in decorating the chapel at Christmas with green boughs, festooned with roses; indeed, it always gave them great pleasure to help the Sisters in any kind of work, and they often interfered when they found their kind nurses engaged in laborious duties. In May, 1864, a Jubilee was celebrated at the hospital with great success.

Cases of smallpox had occurred in the hospital from time to time, but the patients were removed as soon as possible to the smallpox hospital, which was some miles from the city. The poor men were very much distressed because they were compelled to leave the Sisters. It was heartrending when the ambulances came to hear the men begging to be left at Satterlee, even if they were entirely alone, provided the Sisters were near them. The Sisters offered their services several times to attend these poor men, but were told that the Government had ordered them away to prevent the contagion from spreading. At last the surgeon in charge obtained permission to keep the smallpox patients in a camp some distance from the hospital. The tents were made very comfortable, with good large stoves to heat them. The next thing was to have the Sisters in readiness in case their services should be required. Every Sister was courageous and generous enough to offer her services, but it was thought prudent to accept one who had had the disease. From November, 1864, until May, 1865, there were upwards of ninety cases. About nine or ten of these died. Two of the men had the black smallpox, and were baptized before they expired. The Sisters had entire charge of the poor sufferers, as the physicians seldom paid them a visit, permitting the Sisters to do anything they thought proper for them. They were much benefited and avoided being marked by drinking freely of tea made of “pitcher plant.” The patients seemed to think the Sisters were not like other human beings, or they would not attend to such loathsome and contagious diseases.

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.

There is an old and very rare print of the Satterlee Hospital still in existence. From this valuable documentary evidence it is clear that the hospital occupied many acres of ground. In order to reach the building it was necessary to cross a bridge in the vicinity of South street. In crossing this at the time the hospital was opened the carriage containing a number of Sisters broke down and they were compelled to walk the remainder of the distance.

During all the time of the war Sister Gonzaga remained in charge of St. Joseph’s Asylum, which she visited at regular intervals. At the close of the war she returned to give her whole time to the Asylum; the other Sisters returning to their various missions.

Sister Gonzaga has had frequent visits from grateful soldiers who were nursed back to life through her Christian devotion. One who heard of her serious illness a few years ago called, and then, as the outpouring of a grateful heart, sent the following letter to the Philadelphia Evening Star as “A soldier’s tribute to the noble work of Mother Gonzaga during the war:”

“In your valuable paper dated yesterday the announcement was made that Mother Gonzaga, in charge of St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum, southwest corner of Seventh and Spruce streets, was lying dangerously ill. In reciting her many acts of charity for the young orphans under her care and protection, victims of epidemics, etc., during the many years of her life, you were not aware that the short notice touched a tender chord of affection in the breast of many a veteran of the late war.

“Mother Gonzaga was a mother of sixty thousand soldiers, as patients under treatment in Satterlee United States Army Hospital, Forty-fourth and Pine streets, from 1862 until 1865. Those who were under her care, no matter of what religion or creed, when they received the midnight visits of Mother Gonzaga, her silent steps after ‘taps’ and by the dim gaslight, will recognize her familiar countenance surrounded by that white-winged hood or cowl, just bending her form to hear the faint breath or whisper of some fever patient or some restless one throwing off the bed clothes; she kindly tucking them in around his body as a mother would a child; then a visit to the dying to give them expressions of comfort. Those who recall these scenes I say think of her truly as an angel of peace and sweetness.

SISTER MARY GONZAGA.

“Administering medicine when required, loosening a bandage or replacing the same, watching a case of a sufferer in delirium—at all times annoying to those near him—was her daily duty. To see her always calm, always ready, with modesty and fidelity, faithfully performing a Christian duty as an administering angel when physicians, surgeons, friends and all human aid had failed, was a beautiful sight. No poet could describe, no artist could faithfully portray on canvas the scenes at the deathbed of a soldier, that would convey to those not having witnessed them the solemnity of the quiet kneeling, the silent prayer, a murmur faintly heard as a whisper, a Sister of Charity paying her devotion to Him on high, and consigning the spirit of the dying soldier to His care.

“As one of many thousands under her care I shall always think of Mother Gonzaga as one of a constellation of stars of the greatest magnitude—surrounded by many others that were devoted servants, among whom I would mention Dorothea Dix, Annie M. Ross, Hettie A. Jones and Mary Brady. We soldiers cannot forget the service they rendered.

“J. E. MacLane.”

On the 12th of, April, 1877, Sister Gonzaga celebrated the occasion of her golden jubilee in the Sisterhood. On the previous 19th of March she had attained her 50th year in the community. On that day she received the blessing of the Holy Father (Pope Pius IX), a gracious act obtained for her at the suggestion of Rev. Father Alizeri, C. M., a saintly man and a faithful missionary, who has since gone to his reward. Bishops, priests, Sisters and laymen vied with one another on this jubilee occasion in showing the reverence and esteem in which they held the simple religious woman who had gone about doing good for so many years.

Ten years later she was recalled to the mother house at Emmittsburg by her superiors, who desired to relieve her of her responsibility as the head of such a large institution. Born to obedience she promptly responded to the order, and left the house which had become as a home; left friends who had become endeared to her, and left orphans who truly regarded her as a mother. There was not a murmur from this woman who was being taken away from associations with which she had been lovingly and intimately connected for nearly half a century.

Her Philadelphia friends, without solicitation and spontaneously and simultaneously, addressed petitions to her superiors requesting her return to the scenes of her life’s labors. In the words of one who loved Sister Gonzaga, “Heaven was stormed by fervent prayers for the return of the Mother of the Poor.” She remained at Emmittsburg for sixteen months, and at the end of that time returned to Philadelphia. Her home-coming on the 20th of December, 1888, was made the occasion of a great demonstration. The Sisters, the orphans, the managers of the asylum and a host of friends participated.

The actual extent of the good done by Sister Gonzaga is scarcely realized by those who were about her. Many of her charitable acts have been done quietly, even secretly. There was one story with almost the pathos of a tragedy in which she was concerned. The daughter of an estimable family went astray, and the parents in the first violence of their anger and grief turned her out of the house. A few months passed, and then their sober better judgment coming to the surface they attempted to find and forgive the child they had disowned. But they searched in vain, and finally almost in despair turned to Sister Gonzaga. She had not the slightest clue to the missing girl, but she pledged herself to bring her back. In a short time she located the erring one in the insane ward of the Philadelphia Hospital. She was a raving maniac. The girl was restored to her remorseful parents, and by careful nursing was gradually brought back to reason.

On another occasion when the Sister was missing for an hour or so every day it was discovered that she was in daily attendance on a poor woman who lay ill in a small house in a street near by. Although this was entirely foreign to her duties she regularly called and washed and dressed the woman.

Sister Gonzaga departed this life on the morning of October 8, 1897, in her room in St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum in Philadelphia. A piece of crape, on top of which was fastened a bit of immaculate white ribbon, fluttered from the bell on the door of the asylum on that day to inform the passer-by that this marvelous woman had gone to receive her reward.

The obsequies of Sister Gonzaga took place on the morning of Tuesday, October 12th. On the evening before this event countless numbers took a last farewell of the devoted Sister. Hundreds of women and men kissed her dead face as she lay in her coffin. They kissed her hands, which held the Rosary, and about which was twined the broad, purple ribbon of her office as Superioress. Some of the women shed tears, but the men seemed even more deeply affected.

On the morning of the funeral the body lay in state. It was attired in the habit of the order, with a black gown and the white headdress. Clasped in her hand was a crucifix and rosary and a small roll of paper, on which was written the vows that the deceased took when entering upon her work.

The casket was heavily trimmed in silver, and upon the lid was a plate containing this inscription: “Sister Mary Gonzaga, died October 8, 1897, aged 85 years.” Near the top of the lid was a large silver cross, with a figure of the crucifixion. Upon the head of Sister Gonzaga there reposed a golden-leaved crown, that was presented to her when she had been 50 years a Sister of Charity.

There was a profusion of floral offerings tastefully arranged about the head of the casket. In a prominent place was a cross and crown from the “Children of Mary,” a society composed of former inmates of St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum.

The body lay in the community room, beneath the altar. Half a hundred Sisters of Charity were seated along the side of the room. The entire apartment was draped in black. By 10 o’clock, when the doors were closed, several thousand persons had passed around the casket. At length the hearse drew up before the asylum, and eight students from St. Vincent’s Seminary carried the coffin out to the street. A long procession quickly formed and slowly the march to St. Mary’s Church was begun, the route being down Spruce to Fourth and up Fourth. Arriving at the church the eight theologians again acted as pall-bearers, and the casket was carried up the aisle and placed in front of the altar.

Among the mourners were the Board of Managers of the institution, Sisters of Charity from various houses of the order in Philadelphia and other cities, Sisters of other orders, the Children of Mary, composed of those who were formerly inmates of St. Joseph’s Orphan Asylum, numbers of them now mothers of families, and the orphans at present at the home. In addition to these a large congregation was present, which crowded the church.

Solemn Requiem Mass celebrated by Very Rev. J. A. Hartnett, C. M., of St. Vincent’s Seminary, Germantown, who celebrated his first Mass at St. Joseph’s Asylum chapel. Rev. E. O. Hiltermann, rector of Holy Trinity, was deacon; Rev. Edward Quinn, C. M., of Baltimore, sub-deacon, and Rev. John J. Duffy, master of ceremonies. Mr. John F. Walsh, a seminarian, was thurifer. Bishop Prendergast, who occupied a seat on the Gospel side of the altar, was attended by Rev. James O’Reilly, of Downingtown, and Rev. T. B. McCormick, C. M., of St. Vincent de Paul’s.

The sermon was delivered by Rev. John Scully, S. J., rector of St. Joseph’s, who spoke in substance as follows:

“St. Paul tells us in his first letter to the Corinthians that the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God, and in order that God may show to us that this is so the same Apostle tells us that the base, the lowly of this world and the contemptible hath God chosen and the things that are not in order to confound the things that are. How true in all ages have been these inspired words of the Apostle! How true to-day. This foolishness, this wisdom of the world, so foolish in the eyes of God, differs in degree and kind in different ages. In our age it shows itself in the attempt to divide human philanthropy and brotherly love from religion. Take the intellect and culture of this great city in which we live, and what does it lay down as law, except it be that mankind must practice altruism, as they call it, brotherly love, the civic virtue by which alone society among men can be made possible, yet not one word about the essential basis which even the modern pagan sees is necessary. When talking about our rights they say nothing of the rights of God, and when talking of our obligations to one another they say nothing of our obligations to God, without which nothing can rest on a solid basis.

“The wisdom of the world is foolishness. The lowly are chosen by God to confound the worldly wise. In the days of old God raised David from the shepherd of a flock to be the ruler of His people. Christ chose the poor fishermen to be His Apostles. He called St. Vincent de Paul from the lowly occupation of a shepherd to be a wonder-worker, a marvel, a propagator of charity, not only in his own days, but up to the present time. How many millions of dollars are spent in the spirit of modern philanthropy? For education, in order to raise men up as they think, to give men a chance in life. Because it is divided from religion it falls. The late Mr. Vaux said on what was perhaps his last official visit to the penitentiary: ‘When I first came here I found the children of the poor and the ignorant. Now I find my own schoolmates.’ Thus are spent millions in charity, or rather in almsgiving, for it is not worthy to be called charity. What is the result? It puffs up one with pride and another with envy.

“The reason why the thing is done differently is the motive under the acts of thousands and tens of thousands who have given up their lives to works of charity. Have you ever heard of a soldier wishing to become a member of a church to which a trained nurse belonged? How different when the motive is that of Jesus Christ. It is the experience of thousands who beg to be allowed to die in that religion of the devoted Sisters who attended them, and it was this that caused a bishop to receive a petition from a remote part of the diocese for a priest to be sent there and a church built. He replied that not only was he ignorant that so many Catholics were there, but that there was even one Catholic. The answer was, ‘There are no Catholics here yet, but we are men who were attended by the Sisters and we want to be of the religion of the Sisters.’ The base, ignoble and contemptible things of this world has God chosen for His work.

“What is more foolish in the eyes of the world; what is more despised and held in contempt by the intellectual and the cultured than poverty? Yet the Sisters are bound by vows of poverty to be as poor as Christ, to live a life of dependence, depending on one another for their very food and raiment. What more foolish in the eyes of the world than that! As the wise man has said, they are a parable of reproach, looked on with derision. What is more foolish, more base, more spiritless, more contemptible than to find women, ladies, willingly binding themselves, not by impulse, but by vocation, not as a mere whim, but perpetually to live by rule, doing that to which no man ever yet got accustomed, to purify their acts to make them meritorious in the sight of God? And obedience! The world hates and loathes obedience, yet our Divine Lord was obedient even unto death, the death of the cross.

“What is the result of all the so-called charity and philanthropy? Nothing lasting. Search the hearts of thousands of men, women and children who have been benefited by the Sisters and you will find there the love of God.

“Such was the life of the devoted woman who spent 70 years doing good. Many philanthropists have monuments raised to them and are looked upon as public benefactors and honored as such. Take him or her who was greatest among them, or all of them together, what are all compared with a life such as hers, spent in the care of the poor, sick and needy? One long life doing good. A life not only an imitation of Jesus Christ in its acts, but what is more necessary and more difficult, a life in imitation of His motives. The world looks in reproach upon such a life. How many times has she been sneered at on the street in her poor dress and strange bonnet! How often has the world looked with contempt on her that served the Lord so faithfully. How He loved that soul that did as He did and for the same reason. All I have said could be said of almost any other Sister of Charity, but of her, who lived for 70 years in religion, how much could be said those only can know who lived with her and knew her and loved her the more they knew her. Of how few can this be said—to have combined in one and the same person the power of execution, the power of government, and at the same time the spirit of kindness and of great-heartedness which does not make commands ever necessary. Without emotion, without anger. No one ever saw that kindly face ruffled. This is rare in the world—yes, even rare in the religious life. To speak of her life and to realize that thousands and tens of thousands of orphans have had her care, many becoming mothers of families and bringing up their children influenced by her example. To realize her hard work in the military hospital, to think of the thousands and tens of thousands dealt with directly by her or indirectly through her as superioress. What a world of well doing! Seventy years in religion; 85 years spent in the serving of Christ. What a wonderful crown is won by her whose dead body is lying here! Seventy years a member of the community whose very name is held even by the enemies of her faith as a synonym of all that is good in humanity—something which raises humanity and brings it close to God.

“Now the reign of sorrow and desolation has passed away. She has gone forth from the scene of her labor to her rest. She has gone into the sight of Jesus Christ, whom in life she made her Friend. Not to meet the severe face of a Judge, but the smiling countenance of a dear friend. Who would recall her? Not those who loved her most, who lived with her in community; not those who were the recipients of her bounty. What so glorious as a death such as hers after 70 years in God’s service. Says St. Hilary, ‘Shall I fear to die after I have served my Lord for 70 years?’ So died she, because she knew the good Master she served.

“As theologians tell us, God makes known to his saints the needs of those whom they have left behind. ’Thou who knowest the needs of thy children be their advocate and pattern now as ever in life. Be unto us a mother and pray for us that we may go forth as thou hast from this valley of affliction and tears to the sunshine of God the Father, to live forever with His Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ.”

The absolution of the body was performed by Bishop Prendergast, assisted by the officers of the Mass. The music was the Gregorian chant, with the introit, offertory, communion and “Benedictus” in harmony. This was rendered by the students of St. Vincent’s Seminary, Germantown. From among them were chosen the pall-bearers also. The prominent part taken in the services by the Congregation of the Mission was due to the fact that St. Vincent de Paul, its founder, was also founder of the Sisters of Charity.

Eleanor C. Donnelly, the gifted Philadelphia poetess, has written the following verses in memory of Sister Gonzaga and inscribed them to Sister Mary Joseph and her community, with affectionate sympathy:

October 12, 1897. ELEANOR C. DONNELLY.

Sister Gonzaga had a countenance of great benignity and firmness. A high forehead, a kindly mouth and eyes which even age was not able to dim. She was ever a model of graciousness and good breeding. The effects of a good education were visible, and the results of a well-balanced and well-trained mind seen in a remarkably accurate and strong memory. The story of her life is well worth the telling, serving as it does as a model and incentive for those who would be successful in their chosen vocation.

This chapter upon Sister Gonzaga cannot be concluded better than by the presentation of the roster of Sisters of the Satterlee Hospital14. On the 9th of June, 1862, it was as follows: