an incident of the war in which a gentle sister of charity and a stern military commander played the leading parts. “what do you do with your beggings?” the red river campaign and its fatal results. the general in the hospital. “did you get the ice and beef?” a grateful patient and his appreciation of the real worth of the sisters.
“during the late war, and when general s. was in command of the department at new orleans, the sisters of charity made frequent applications to him for assistance.26 especially were they desirous to obtain supplies at what was termed ‘commissary prices;’ that is, at a reduction or commutation of one-third the amount which the same provisions would cost at market rates. the principal demand was for ice, flour, beef and coffee, but mainly ice, a luxury which only the union forces could enjoy at anything like a reasonable price. the hospitals were full of the sick and wounded of both the federal and confederate armies, and the benevolent institutions of the city were taxed to the utmost in their endeavors to aid the poor and the suffering, for those were trying 316 times, and war has many victims. foremost among these christian workers stood the various christian sisterhoods. these noble women were busy day and night, never seeming to know fatigue, and overcoming every obstacle that, in so many discouraging forms, obstructed the way of doing good—obstacles which would have completely disheartened less resolute women, or those not trained in the school of patience, faith, hope and charity, and where the first grand lesson learned is self-denial. of money there was little, and food, fuel and medicine were scarce and dear; yet they never faltered, going on in the face of all difficulties, through poverty, war and unfriendly aspersions, never turning aside, never complaining, never despairing. no one will ever know the sublime courage of these good sisters during the dark days of the rebellion. only in that hour when the judge of all mankind shall summon before him the living and the dead will they receive their true reward, the crown everlasting, and the benediction: ‘well done, good and faithful servant.’
“it was just a week previous to the red river campaign, when all was hurry and activity throughout the department of the gulf, that general s., a stern, irascible old officer of the regular army, sat at his desk in his office on julia street, curtly giving orders to subordinates, dispatching messengers hither and thither to every part of the city where troops were stationed, and stiffly receiving such of his command as had important business to transact.
“in the midst of this unusual hurry and preparation the door noiselessly opened, and a humble sister of charity entered the room. a handsome young lieutenant of the staff instantly arose and deferentially handed her a chair, 317 for those sombre gray garments were respected, if not understood, even though he had no reverence for the religious faith which they represented.
“general s. looked up from his writing, angered by the intrusion of one whose ‘fanaticism’ he despised, and a frown of annoyance and displeasure gathered darkly on his brow.
“‘orderly!’
“the soldier on duty without the door, who had admitted the sister, faced about, saluted and stood mute, awaiting the further command of his chief.
“‘did i not give orders that no one was to be admitted?’
“‘yes, sir; but—’
“‘when i say no one, i mean no one,’ thundered the general.
“the orderly bowed and returned to his post. he was too wise a soldier to enter into explanation with so irritable a superior. all this time the patient sister sat calm and still, biding the moment when she might speak and meekly state the object of her mission. the general gave her the opportunity in the briefest manner possible, and sharply enough, too, in all conscience.
“‘well, madam?’
“she raised a pair of sad, dark eyes to his face, and the gaze was so pure, so saintly, so full of silent pleading, that the rough old soldier was touched in spite of himself. around her fell the heavy muffling dress of her order, which, however coarse and ungraceful, had something strangely solemn and mournful about it. her hands, small and fair, were clasped almost suppliantly, and half-hidden in the loose sleeves, as if afraid of their own trembling 318 beauty; hands that had touched tenderly, lovingly, so many death-damp foreheads; that had soothed so much pain; eyes that had met prayerfully so many dying glances; lips that had cheered to the mysterious land so many parting souls, and she was only a sister of charity—only one of that innumerable band whose good deeds shall live after them.
“‘we have a household of sick and wounded whom we must care for in some way, and i came to ask of you the privilege, which i humbly beseech you will not deny us, of obtaining ice and beef at commissary prices.’
“the gentle, earnest pleading fell on deaf ears.
“‘always something,’ snarled the general. ‘last week it was flour and ice; to-day it is ice and beef; to-morrow it will be coffee and ice, i suppose, and all for a lot of rascally rebels, who ought to be shot, instead of being nursed back to life and treason.’
“‘general!’—the sister was majestic now—‘rebel or federal, i do not know; protestant or catholic, i do not ask. they are not soldiers when they come to us; they are simply suffering fellow-creatures. rich or poor, of gentle or lowly blood, it is not our province to inquire. ununiformed, unarmed, sick and helpless, we ask not on which side they fought. our work begins after yours is done. yours the carnage, ours the binding up of wounds. yours the battle, ours the duty of caring for the mangled left behind on the field. ice i want for the sick, the wounded, the dying. i plead for all, i beg for all, i pray for all god’s poor suffering creatures, wherever i may find them.’
“‘yes, you can beg, i’ll admit. what do you do with all your beggings? it is always more, more! never enough!’
“with this, the general resumed his writing, thereby 319 giving the sister to understand that she was dismissed. for a moment her eyes fell, her lips trembled—it was a cruel taunt. then the tremulous hands slowly lifted and folded tightly across her breast, as if to still some sudden heartache the unkind words called up. very low, and sweet, and earnest was her reply:
union leaders of the civil war.
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“what do we do with our beggings? oh, that is a hard question to ask of one whose way of life leads ever among the poor, the sorrowing, the unfortunate, the most wretched of mankind. not on me is it wasted. i stand here in my earthly all. what do we do with it? ah! some day you may know.’
“she turned away and left him, sad of face, heavy of heart, and her dark eyes misty with unshed tears.
“‘stay!’
“the general’s request was like a command. he could be stern; nay, almost rude, but he knew truth and worth when he saw it, and could be just. the sister paused on the threshold, and for a minute nothing was heard but the rapid scratching of the general’s pen.
“‘there, madam, is your order on the commissary for ice and beef at army terms, good for three months. i do it for the sake of the union soldiers who are, or may be, in your care. don’t come bothering me again. good-morning!’
“in less than three weeks from that day the slaughter of the red river campaign had been perfected, and there neared the city of new orleans a steamer flying the ominous yellow flag, which even the rebel sharpshooters respected and allowed to pass down the river unmolested. another, and still another, followed closely in her wake, and all the decks were covered with the wounded and dying whose bloody bandages and, in many instances, undressed 320 wounds gave woeful evidence of the lack of surgeons, as well as the completeness of the rout. among the desperately wounded was general s. he was borne from the steamer to the waiting ambulance, writhing in anguish from the pain of his bleeding and shell-torn limb, and when they asked him where he wished to be taken he feebly moaned:
“‘anywhere, it matters not. where i can die in peace.’
“so they took him to the hotel dieu, a noble and beautiful institution, in charge of the sisters of charity. the limb was amputated and then he was nursed for weeks through the agony of the surgical operation, the fever, the wild delirium; and for many weary days no one could tell whether life or death would be the victor. but who was the quiet, faithful nurse, ever at his bedside, ever ministering to his wants, ever watchful of his smallest needs? why only ‘one of the sisters.’
“at last life triumphed, reason returned, and with it much of the old, abrupt manner. the general awoke to consciousness to see a face not altogether unknown bending over him, and to feel a pair of small, deft hands skillfully arranging a bandage, wet in ice-cold water, around his throbbing temples, where the mad pain and aching had for so long a time held sway. he was better now, though still very weak; but his mind was clear, and he could think calmly and connectedly of all that had taken place since the fatal battle—a battle which had so nearly cost him his life and left him at best but a maimed and mutilated remnant of his former self.
“yet he was thankful it was no worse—that he had not been killed outright. in like degree he was grateful to those who nursed him so tenderly and tirelessly, especially 321 the gray-robed woman, who had become almost angelic in his eyes; and it was like him to express his gratitude in his own peculiar way, without preface or circumlocution. looking intently at the sister, as if to get her features well fixed in his memory, he said:
“‘did you get the ice and beef?’
“the sister started. the question was so direct and unexpected. surely her patient must be getting—really himself!
“‘yes,’ she replied simply, but with a kind glance of the soft, sad eyes, that spoke eloquently her thanks.
“‘and your name is ——”
“‘sister francis.’
“‘well, then, sister francis, i am glad you got the things—glad i gave you the order. i think i know now what you do with your beggings. i comprehend something of your work, your charity, your religion, and i hope to be the better for the knowledge. i owe you a debt i can never repay, but you will endeavor to believe that i am deeply grateful for all your great goodness and ceaseless care.’
“‘nay; you owe me nothing; but to him, whose cross i bear and in whose divine footsteps i try to follow, you owe a debt of gratitude unbounded. to his infinite mercy i commend you. it matters not for the body; it is that divine mystery, the soul, i would save. my work here is done. i leave you to the care of others. adieu.’
“the door softly opened and closed, and he saw sister francis no more.
“two months afterward she received a letter sent to the care of the mother superior, inclosing a check for a thousand dollars. at the same time the general took 322 occasion to remark that he wished he were able to make it twice the amount, since he knew by experience ‘what they did with their beggings.’”
with this portion of the book is concluded the record of the labors of the catholic sisterhoods in the war. the appendix which follows contains a number of interesting facts which it was deemed advisable to separate from the text proper. most of them have reference, either directly or indirectly, to the patience, courage and loyalty of the sisters. those that have not are sufficiently allied to the subject matter to justify their insertion in a volume of this character. before the book went to press the writer went over this additional matter with a view to omitting some portions that did not appear directly related to the main volume. but it was difficult to make a choice. no two persons could agree upon the part to be retained and the portion to be omitted. so all of the matter has remained as it was originally conceived and arranged.
no one can read the story of the labors of the heroic women in the war without a thrill of reverence and admiration for these devoted nurses. they constitute “a grand army of the republic” before which the boys in blue and the boys in gray, and their descendants after them, can bow the head in respectful salutation. they “enlisted in the war” from motives of the highest patriotism—love of humanity and love of god. they had no purpose to accomplish, no axes to grind, no reward to receive, no pay to earn! they did not forsake their peaceful convent homes, share the privations and the rough fare of the soldiers, to gratify any worldly ambition. all that they did was from a pure and elevated sense of duty. the high 323 motives that inspired them in volunteering their services at the crisis in this nation’s history has also prevented them from recording or publishing the amount and character of these services. their light has literally been hid beneath a bushel. this feeble effort to do justice to their labors and their memory has been undertaken, not because they would have it done, but because duty, justice and patriotism alike demanded that it should be done. if the perusal of these pages furnishes the reader one-tenth of the pleasure involved in their making, the writer will be well repaid for his labor.
