General Grant, who had been laying siege to Vicksburg, had captured that stronghold on the Fourth of July, 1863. Then came the surrender of Fort Hudson and the battles of Chickamauga, Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge.

Grant in 1864 was made Lieutenant-General and placed in command of all the armies of the United States. Early in May he led the Army of the Potomac across the Rapidan toward Richmond. For six weeks he tried to get between Lee’s army and Richmond without success. In this fruitless effort he fought the battles of the Wilderness, North Anna, Bethesda Church and Gold Harbor, losing 40,000 men. Then he moved his whole army south of the James and laid siege to Petersburg.

The burning of Chambersburg by the Confederates and the valor of General Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley, with Admiral Farragut’s achievements at sea, completed the notable events of 1864.

In the fall of 1864 Sherman began his march to the sea, which was unique in modern warfare, and was completely successful. The last campaign began in the spring of 1865. On April 1, 1865, Petersburg was evacuated, the Union Army entered Richmond on the 2d. On the 9th of April came the surrender of Lee to Grant at Appomattox, which was the practical end of the war. Long before this the Sisters of Charity felt that their work was drawing to a close. In the meantime, however, their services were being utilized in the West. Colonel Ware, who was then in command of the prisons of that section, applied to the Bishop of Alton, Ill., for the Sisters of Charity to attend the prisoners at Alton. Accordingly, Bishop Yonker applied to the Sister servant of St. Philomena’s School, St. Louis. One of the Sisters was at that time in St. Louis at the Gratiot State Prison Hospital. She received a dispatch from Father Burlando to go to Alton and take with her three Sisters. They started early the next morning, March 15, 1864, and reached Alton in twenty-four hours. There they were met by Father Harty, who conducted them to the residence of a gentleman, a member of the City Council.

Colonel Ware soon called to see them and accompanied them to the prison, which had been formerly called the Illinois State Penitentiary. It had been vacated before the war for a more commodious and healthy locality. Before reaching the main entrance the Sisters had to ascend a very rugged road, well protected by guards. Here a residence would have been provided for them, but they did not think it safe or prudent to accept it. They passed through the yard, which was crowded with prisoners, numbering four thousand Confederates and one thousand Federals, the latter being confined there for desertion and through follies committed in camp. The two parties were separated, except in the hospital. The poor sick were so delighted to see the Sisters that they could scarcely contain themselves.

It is said that the men died in this hospital at the rate of from six to ten a day. The place was too small for the number of inmates, who were all more or less afflicted with diseases. Some were wounded, other a prey to despondency, typhoid fever and the smallpox; consequently the atmosphere of the prison was very foul. Fortunately the smallpox cases were removed to an island in the Mississippi as soon as discovered. The Sisters made arrangements with Colonel Ware to visit the sick twice a day. As there were no accommodations for the Sisters to remain in the prison they returned to the residence of Councilman Wise, who had so kindly received them in the morning. He could not accommodate them, but procured lodgings for them in the house of his sister, where they remained for nearly six weeks. On their return to the prison the next day the Sisters found written orders from the Government. They also met there the attending physicians, who appeared glad to see them and said that they hoped soon to see an improvement in the condition of the sufferers, who had been heretofore much neglected. The Sisters were informed that four of the patients had died during the previous night. A place was allotted to them to prepare drinks and nourishment for the sick. It was an old workshop, and the floors were in such a condition that the Sisters were continually in danger of falling through. The attendants, who were prisoners, were exceedingly kind and obliging, so much so that they would even anticipate the wishes of the Sisters.

Two weeks had scarcely elapsed before the sick began to improve. The doctors acknowledged a change for the better, saying that there were fewer deaths, and that despondency had nearly disappeared. A look of commiseration or a word of encouragement soon made these poor victims feel that they were cared for at least by the lowly children of St. Vincent. The Sisters visited the Federal Guards Hospital and the smallpox island hospital at the request of Colonel Ware. They visited the Federal Guards Hospital once a day and the smallpox island hospital once a week, but even that consoled the poor patients, as the Sisters provided them with delicacies and nourishment they mostly craved.

On the 1st of May the Sisters took possession of a house belonging to St. Joseph’s, Emmittsburg, that had been previously occupied as a school, but was then vacated. They were now one mile distant from the prison, and an ambulance was sent daily to convey them to and fro.

On July 1 they were notified that their services were no longer required at the prison. They could do nothing until the superiors were acquainted with their situation. Meanwhile the citizens were anxious to have them remain in Alton and convert their house into a hospital. They soon received a letter from the venerated Mother Ann Simeon, giving permission to open a civil hospital for the citizens of Alton. One of the Sisters was sent to St. Joseph’s Hospital, Alton, to wait on the sick and wounded soldiers from the battle of Winchester. There was one man in the ward who was nicknamed “Blue Beard,” from his ferocious manners and large mustache. He would never ask for anything nor take anything offered to him. One day when he was being urged to take some nourishment he replied:

“Sister, I do not wish for anything that you have. There is only one thing, and that I do not think you can procure for me.”

The Sister inquired what it was and assured him that if it were in her power she would get it for him. He then replied:

“Sister, I should like to have a lily. I think it would do me so much good.”

The wish was a strange one, nevertheless she at once determined to gratify him, which the kindness of a friend enabled her to do. This little act of kindness was not without effect, and from that time the man had a high regard for the Sisters.

At the termination of the war, in 1865, the prisoners received their discharge. It was sad to see the streets of the city lined with the ragged and distressed looking men. The sick were brought to St. Joseph’s Hospital, which was soon filled. The Sisters gave the soldiers the very best attention and consideration, and within a few months the majority of the men were enabled to return to their homes and families.

The little band of Sisters who had been laboring in Frederick City, Md., from 1862 to 1864 certainly did their share in caring for helpless humanity. They were kept actively employed in Frederick City during the summer and autumn of 1862. They found then that their work was not nearly done. The winter set in with heavy rains and deep snow, to which they were constantly exposed. The poor patients had likewise much to suffer from the badly constructed buildings. The wind, rain and snow penetrated through the crevices, leaving the poor men in a most uncomfortable condition. This was called to the attention of the chief surgeon, who immediately gave orders for the dilapidated barracks to be repaired as much as possible.

Some of the soldiers were quite amusing with their grateful intentions. A Sister was asked one day whether she ever wore any other color but gray or black, “for,” he continued, “I wish to present Sister Agnes with a new dress; she has been so truly good to me.”

The soldiers seemed to have the greatest confidence in the Sisters, whose advice they preferred before that of the physicians. General Hunter had now received command of the Shenandoah Valley. He visited the hospital and issued an order that all the prisoners should be placed by themselves in separate barracks entirely apart from the Union men. Soon after the United States surgeon in charge of the hospital inspected all the barracks and found one filled with Confederates and with no Sister to take charge of them. The sufferings of these poor men touched him so much that he immediately went to the Sister servant and requested her to send a Sister from a ward of the Union soldiers to take care of the Confederates. The patience of these poor sufferers was the admiration of all. A worthy clergyman once remarked that in his visits to the hospital he was always edified by their resignation. He said he had never heard the least murmur escape their lips, and commenting upon this he remarked: “I think the intensity of their pain, both mentally and physically, might, if offered in unison, expiate the sins of their whole life.”

About this time the leaders of the Southern Confederacy began to realize that the clouds were gathering about them and that their cause was hanging in the balance, if indeed it was not already destined to failure. They resolved to concentrate their hospital facilities in and around the city of Richmond, Va. The Sisters who had been doing work upon the various battlefields in the South were summoned to the Southern Capital. The Sisters had served at Harper’s Ferry, Manassas, Antietam, Fredericksburg and White House, Va.

Those who were located in Richmond at this time began to feel “in their bones” that the fall of the city was imminent. They were right. The long expected event occurred in April, 1865. Jefferson Davis, the President of the Southern Confederacy, was at worship in an Episcopal church when he was handed a telegram telling him that Richmond must be evacuated. He presented a calm exterior, but bad news is hard to conceal, and the exact situation was soon noised about the city. The wildest excitement prevailed. Men, women and children rushed hither and thither, knowing not what to do or where to go. Finally their frenzy assumed a decisive shape and a general evacuation of the city began. The Sisters, who constituted the calmest portion of the population, looked on the scene with mild amazement.

The City Councils met and with the general interests of the people in view determined to destroy all the liquor in Richmond. This work was begun at midnight and before the first gray streaks of dawn revealed the terror-stricken city to the public gaze the streets and gutters were running with veritable lakes of whisky, wine and beer. Many of the soldiers and some of the residents balked the good intentions of the Councils by drinking the liquor, and then scenes of drunken revelry were added to the general confusion. Thieves broke loose, houses were robbed, public buildings were fired and bridges leading from the city were destroyed.

Notwithstanding the foresight of the authorities on the coming defeat, its arrival was most appalling. Medical stores, commissary departments and other houses were thrown open. The city was troubled from the blowing up of the gunboats in the river. The Sisters were preparing to go to Mass early in the morning when suddenly a terrific explosion stunned, as it were, the power of thought. The noise of the breaking of windows in the hospitals and neighboring buildings added greatly to the alarm. The Sisters soon learned that the Confederates had blown up their supplies of powder which were very near the hospital buildings; then followed an explosion of all the Government buildings.

After the surrender a Federal officer rode up to the door of the Sisters’ house and told them they were perfectly safe, their property would be respected and that he would send a special guard to protect their house. No resistance was shown to the Union troops. The city was placed under military rule and General G. F. Shepley made Governor. One thousand prisoners were found in the city and five thousand sick and wounded were in the hospitals. The prisoners were set free and the Sisters with joy hailed the peace that was once again to dawn on a blood-washed land. They remained in Richmond until the sick and wounded were able to quit the hospitals and then returned home to Emmitsburg, followed by the gratitude and blessings of the men of both armies.

The soldiers who were in the Washington hospitals also returned to their homes impressed with the kindest feelings toward the Sisters. The officers and doctors all concurred in expressing unlimited confidence in them. Printed placards were hung in all the wards, reading: “All articles for the use of the soldiers here are to be placed in the care of the Sisters of Charity, as also papers, books and clothing.”

Early in the summer of 1865 the Sisters took their departure and the hospital was permanently closed. Another hospital in Washington began its operations in March, 1865, and closed in October of the same year. The Sisters were placed in charge, and, since their customs and calling were known, did not experience as much annoyance as in the beginning of the war.

The house was well filled with the sick and wounded. During the month of July the Jesuit Fathers were giving a jubilee at their church in the city of Washington and many of the convalescents attended.

The officers of the hospital expressed much gratitude for all that had been done by the Sisters. The first surgeon was at a loss to know how to put his satisfaction into words, saying that the Sisters of Charity had marvelously lessened the cares of the physicians and surgeons in all of the hospitals in which they served.

This concludes the story of the work done by the Sisters of Charity of Emmittsburg from the beginning to the close of the war. While they were at work, however, the Sisters belonging to branches of the order and to other orders were not idle, as will be seen by the chapters that follow.