In the autumn of 1862 application was made by the authorities in Washington to the Mother Superior of the Sisters of Mercy for nurses to take charge of the wounded soldiers in the Stanton Hospital in Washington City. Accordingly, four Sisters from the mother house in Pittsburg were appointed for the work. They hastily prepared and departed for the scene of duty, arriving in Washington the day before Thanksgiving. Finding that the Stanton, a long row of one-story frame buildings, was not quite ready for occupancy, the Sisters remained for a few days with the Sisters of Mercy, who were in charge of the Douglas Hospital then in operation in Washington. These Sisters were members of the Baltimore Community, founded some years previously from the house at Pittsburg. In a short time the new hospital was opened, and the Sisters repaired thither, and began their work by caring for one hundred and thirty wounded soldiers, who had just been carried in from an engagement. On December 8 four more Sisters arrived from Pittsburg, making in all eight, which number constituted the staff of Sisters engaged in the Stanton Hospital. Some of these did not remain until the close of the war, but were relieved as circumstances required by Sisters from home. These changes were not made without necessity, as the health of several of the original volunteers was hopelessly shattered by the severe duties entailed upon them. To the bodily fatigue incident to the care of so many patients was added much mental anxiety, caused by the responsibility attending the charge of grave cases. The successful issue in many severe surgical operations depended almost entirely on the vigilance of the nurse.

Too much praise cannot be given to the officials of the Stanton Hospital for their careful supervision and attention to the patients, and the unvarying kindness and confidence reposed in the Sisters. The surgeon in charge, Dr. John A. Liddell, and his assistant, Dr. Philip Davis, deserve special mention. Abundant supplies of everything needful for the sick were most liberally provided. As far as possible no want of the patients was left ungratified.

This was a source of great satisfaction to the Sisters, and lightened their cares considerably. What has been said of the work of Sisters in other hospitals might be repeated here. Their labors were arduous and unceasing. After every battle numbers of wounded were brought in, and received unwearied attention day and night. As a rule the soldiers appreciated the work of the Sisters, and regarded them as their best friends. Often patients, when convinced that the hope of recovery was gone, confided their last wishes to the Sisters. They were frequently called upon to send messages to the loved ones far away, and write letters to absent friends. These and similar acts of kindness, with words of comfort and encouragement, made the day more than full “pressed down and running over” with meritorious acts. The Sisters frequently had the consolation of witnessing happy deathbed scenes, often of persons who, under less favorable surroundings might not have enjoyed this great blessing. Entire freedom of conscience was secured to all, each patient being at liberty to summon to his side the spiritual adviser of his choice. The Catholics were attended by the Jesuit Fathers, among whom Revs. Father Wagit, Brady and Roccofort were untiring in their efforts to console the sick and fortify the dying with the consolations of religion. The Sisters remained at the Stanton until the close of the war, when, their services being no longer required, they returned to Pittsburg, where they resumed their usual avocations.

The Western Pennsylvania Hospital in Pittsburg was used by the Government for a military hospital at this time, principally for Pennsylvania soldiers. Such men as were able to bear the fatigue of transportation from Washington or other places were sent to this institution in order to make room at the Stanton for cases direct from the field of battle. The Sisters of Mercy were invited to give their services, a request with which they cheerfully complied, early in 1863. In this institution the Sisters experienced the same courtesy from the officers as was extended to them elsewhere. Every arrangement compatible with existing circumstances was made to lighten their duties. In both these hospitals a chapel was fitted up and Mass was celebrated daily, which such convalescent patients as desired were at liberty to attend. The Sisters continued their work in the Pennsylvania Hospital until May, 1865. In Washington and Pittsburg the members of the Sanitary Commission gave very efficient aid towards alleviating the conditions of the patients by providing delicacies and reading matter. After each visit supplies were left in the hands of the Sisters to be distributed at their discretion.

The Douglas Hospital in Washington had been erected out of three large dwellings in the then fashionable part of the Capital City. It was so named from the fact that the most important of these three houses had been the residence of the famous Senator of that name.

Sister M. Collette O’Connor was in charge of this institution, and was revered by all who became acquainted with her. She died at the hospital, July 16, 1864, and her remains were escorted to Baltimore and buried with military honors.

One day President Lincoln visited the Stanton Hospital in Washington. Those who were fortunate to be present on this remarkable occasion received impressions that should remain ever fresh in their minds. None of the Sisters had ever met the Chief Executive, but when a tall, angular man with just the suggestion of a stoop about the shoulders sauntered up the path leading to the main entrance of the hospital they intuitively knew that it was President Lincoln. The homely, wrinkled face, with its careworn appearance, and the patient, almost pathetic eyes appealed at once to the tender sensibilities of the Sisters. They knew little, and were without leisure to inquire, about the merits of either the Northern or Southern side of the bloody controversy then raging at its height, but they had a keen appreciation of human suffering and human sympathy, and their hearts went out at once to this plain man who so uncomplainingly carried the woes of the nation upon his shoulders.

The President went from cot to cot shaking hands with the poor patients and addressing them in the jocular manner he frequently employed to conceal the anguish caused by the sight of so much suffering. On occasions of this character the very simplicity and naturalness of the President only served to bring his greatness into brighter relief. The Sisters had a good opportunity of observing the man who had been called from his modest home in Illinois to become ruler of the Republic at the most serious crisis in its history. They saw in him a person who with a single stroke of the pen was destined to liberate nearly four millions of slaves. They saw a man who was daily performing the most painful duties under the most trying circumstances, but who did each act “with malice toward none; with charity for all.” They saw in him the one distinctively grand figure of the war. They realized with others that amid the clash and roar and smoke of battle; amid the perplexities and contentions of legislative halls, and the difficulties and differences of Cabinets, there arose pre-eminent above all the peaceful, pathetic, powerful personality of Abraham Lincoln.

Mr. Lincoln remained at the hospital for some time. With the trained eye of a man of affairs he observed the cleanliness of the place, and did not fail to notice all that the Sisters were doing for the comfort and relief of the patients. When he departed he cordially shook hands with each of the Sisters, and congratulated them on the work they were performing in the cause of humanity.

Rev. J. F. Regis Canevin, rector of St. Paul’s Cathedral, Pittsburg, has paid a high tribute to the work of the Sisters of Mercy in the late war.20 A passing reference is made to some of the events already detailed in this chapter, but it is such an able presentation of the case that it deserves reproduction in these pages. Father Canevin said in part:

“The Sisters went forth from their peaceful convent homes to serve their God and country in the Stanton Military Hospital at Washington and in the Western Pennsylvania Hospital at Pittsburg. The military physicians regarded them as valuable assistants, and oftentimes the nuns had the entire charge of the patients, administering of medicines and arranging bandages with deft and skillful hands.

“The Sisters had four hundred and fifty wounded men under their care in the Stanton Hospital at one time, and after the second battle of Fredericksburg, December 13, 1862, a number of Confederate wounded were laid side by side with those whom they had wounded.

“‘It was a beautiful sight,’ said one of the Sisters, ‘to see how tenderly the convalescent Union soldiers helped to nurse back the health of those whom they had so fiercely fought a short time before. Those who are first in war are also first in peace.’

“Southern sympathizers in Washington sent large supplies of provisions and delicacies for their Confederate friends. ‘We took all they sent,’ said a veteran Sister, ‘but we saw that the boys in blue fared as well as their foes.’ This was holy simplicity. At the time the Sisters were engaged in their work of mercy in the hospitals and on the battlefields of the North some of their companions who had left their side a few years before were under the shot and shell which were hurled from land and water when Grant besieged Vicksburg, and fear and famine stalked the Confederate camp and city. The Sisters followed the ill-fated army through all the hard fortunes of the struggle; nursed the sick, stanched the blood, bound up the wounds of those who fell on the battlefield, and spoke words of consolation and hope to the dying.

“We can read in military annals how the dying soldier fancied a mother or a sister to be supporting his head as the black-robed nun bade him confide in the Saviour of Calvary, and poured refreshing drops on his lips parched and quivering in the throes of death. It was loyalty to the Divine Master that caused these women to serve on both sides of the line.

“After the war the Vicksburg Community returned to their convent and found their latest golden opportunity in the South in the great yellow fever scourge of 1878, which spread sorrow and gloom over the land, until even hope was almost paralyzed. Yes, when fear had dissolved all the ties which hold society together; when succor could not be bought with gold; when the strongest natural affections yielded to the love of life, then a band of Sisters of Mercy, led by the same fearless heroines from Pittsburg who fifteen years before had seen duty on the battlefield, were to be found bending over the plague-stricken couch, praying, ever encouraging and holding up to the last before the expiring patient the image of the Cross.

“When the brave men of both armies had fought out the nation’s quarrel, and when the roar of cannon died away and the smoke of battle was lifted from the land, the bright sun of peace shone upon a people more united than they had ever been before. Religious bigotry and sectarian hatred had received a deadly stroke. There was more Christianity amid the rough scenes of war than there had been in preceding years of peace. The best blood of the Roman Catholic and of the Protestant co-patriot had reddened the same stream and mingled on many a well-fought field; side by side they met the charge; side by side they repelled the shock; side by side they fell. In the same pit their bodies were deposited. The dew fell from Heaven upon their union in the grave.

“Misfortune had taught them to know and respect and trust and love each other. Those who survived learned to despise the cowards and hypocrites and bigots who at home, in ignorance or malice, had armed man against his brother, and in the name of religion kept us in perpetual conflict. The soldier descendant of the New England Puritan, and of the Papist-hating Orangeman, discovered that his Catholic comrade was a brave, generous-hearted man, and a consistent Christian; that the Roman Catholic Church was not the sworn enemy of free institutions; that the Sisters of that Church were kind, earnest, hard-working, useful and devoted women in the service of that Christ whose doctrine is that we should love one another. And thus the Sisters of Mercy returned from war to find the good they and other religious women had done had won the grateful recognition of the whole country. Thoughtful men learned from their deeds that even a Covenanter need not fear to offend the Creator in acknowledging that there rested a holy influence in hearts consecrated to God.”

A Sister of Mercy at Charleston, under date of September 23, 1865, thus writes to a friend concerning the destitution in that city and State:

“Every phase of life has been so upturned here that the once rich, who were wont to assist the poor, are now wretchedly poor themselves, and are grateful for a little of the common necessaries of life when given them. We have called upon the Northern storekeepers here and received some assistance from them, but we cannot call too often. Few of our own people are able to go into business; none can afford to give at present, though the will is good. If, my dear lady, you can do aught in this emergency, you will perform a great act of charity. Could you see these people as we do your heart would ache. Sad eyes swimming in tears; little delicate hands skinned from the wash-tub, and hearts without hope for the future. I saw last week a lady, one of the wealthiest a short time ago, lying on a miserable pallet, the room without furniture, where she once had every comfort. The house had been stripped of everything, linen, plate and wines of all kinds; her limbs were covered with sores, occasioned by anxiety of mind and poverty of blood; the result of almost starvation. Were this an isolated case, it could be relieved, but, unfortunately, the city abounds in them. The planters for miles around are homeless, and are compelled to take refuge in the city without any means of subsistence.”

Sisters DeSales and DeChantel, and some five other Sisters of the Sisters of Mercy arrived in New York in the latter part of 1865 from White Sulphur Springs, Montgomery County, Virginia, where they were engaged attending the sick and wounded soldiers in the hospital for the last four years. They were accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Croghan, of Charleston, who was also engaged during the war as chaplain in the same hospital.

According to the New York News, at the time of Lee’s surrender there were over three hundred sick and wounded at this particular hospital. It adds: “Over sixty of these were Federal soldiers, and not more than two days’ rations to meet their wants. The Sisters were among strangers, having neither money nor worldly influence, but, compelled by the spirit of their holy calling, they devised means to procure provisions enough to suffice for more than six weeks for the patients and remained with them until all had either convalesced or died.

“About the 22d of May they proceeded to Lynchburg. General Gregg received them at this port most courteously and offered them every means in his power to prosecute their journey to Washington, where they again applied to General Hardie for transportation to Charleston. In this they were not successful. General Hardie refused to send them, on the ground that, being non-combatants, no provision had been made by the authorities in Washington for such persons. Finally, through the kindness of some private gentleman in Washington, Father Croghan was enabled to procure transportation to New York, where they found themselves strangers and penniless, and with hardly sufficient wearing apparel to enable them to appear in public. On hearing of their embarrassing circumstances, the Rev. William Quinn, of St. Peter’s, Barclay street, called a few of his parishioners together on Sunday last with a view to raising the necessary funds to enable these good Sisters to return to their homes. The result was that, aided by Judge Andrew Clarke, Esq., and a few other gentlemen, the sum of eleven hundred and forty-eight dollars was collected in a few days. On Saturday last this amount was presented to Sister DeSales, at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, in Seventeenth street, by a committee consisting of the Rev. William Quinn, Dennis Quinn and Andrew Clarke. On receiving the amount Sister DeSales, on behalf of herself and the community she represented, expressed her earnest thanks to the donors, promising that their kindness should never be forgotten by their community.”

The Convent at Charleston belonging to these Sisters was burned to the ground, having caught fire from the shells thrown into the city during the bombardment of the Federal forces.