Mother Bridgeman’s Sisters Of Mercy Nursing In The Crimean War
Mthr M Francis Bridgeman Kinsale
Sr M Joseph Lynch Kinsale
Sr M Clare Keane Kinsale
Sr M Agnes Whitty St. Catherine’s Baggot St, Dublin
Sr M Elizabeth Hersey St. Catherine’s Baggot St, Dublin
Sr M Joseph Croke Charleville
Sr M Clare Lalor Charleville
Sr M Aloysius Doyle Carlow
Sr M Stanislaus Heyfron Carlow
Sr M Paula Rice St. Maries of the Isle, Cork
Sr M Aloysius Hurley St. Maries of the Isle, Cork
Sr Winifred Sprey Liverpool
Sr M Elizabeth Butler Liverpool
Sr M Magdalen Alcock Liverpool
Sr M Bernard Dixon Chelsea, Lon
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Mother Jane Francis returned to Kinsale where she remained for the rest of her life. The school continued to flourish with a thousand children receiving free education, and school meals during the winter months. She directed the establishment of daughter houses in Ireland at Clonakilty, Skibbereen, Newry, Doon, and Ballyshannon. She also set up houses in Derby, England and in San Francisco and Cincinnati, USA. She wrote God in His Works, a textbook used widely in Sisters of Mercy primary schools. Mother Jane Francis Bridgeman died on February 11th, 1888 at the convent in Kinsale.
Mother Mary Baptist Russell Sisters of Mercy
San Francisco, California
Mother Frances Bridgeman, superior of the Sisters of Mercy in Kinsale, Ireland, had nursed with Florence Nightingale in the Crimean War. Hers was not a sheltered life. But when a priest asked her for recruits to go to San Francisco, California, in 1854, she hesitated. "She was afraid they'd get scalped," said Sr. Mary Katherine Doyle, who is writing a book on Mother Mary Baptist Russell.
Despite San Francisco's reputation as a lawless city, 29 Irish Sisters of Mercy volunteered to serve there. From that group, Mother Frances chose eight. She selected Sr. Mary Baptist Russell, 26 years old, as the group's leader.
They arrived there on December 8, 1854. What the sisters found was jarring. Following the discovery of gold in 1848, "gold fever" had hit San Francisco. Many men went off to seek their fortunes, leaving their wives and children to fend for themselves. The exploitation and sale of women were common practices when the Sisters of Mercy arrived. The aged and infirm fared little better.
Although primarily a teacher, Mother Baptist Russell responded to the needs of the times. She was determined to help the suffering, and one of her first works was to create a safe haven for women. Under her leadership, the Sisters of Mercy began taking in abandoned wives and mothers, prostitutes, and naive young girls. They also took in the elderly and began visiting the sick in their homes.
Less than a month after their arrival, the sisters were asked to visit a woman who had just died. Recounted Doyle: "While kneeling to pray for the woman, they realized she was not dead. After sending for the priest, they revived the woman and sent her to the county hospital. Mary Baptist deliberately rented a house near the hospital. Daily the sisters visited the sick, bringing what comfort they could to the patients."
At that time, "people who went into the hospital rarely left alive," explained Doyle. They "were left all night in the dark, with no water and no one attending them. They had no linen or pillows—they were expected to bring their own if they had any. The nurses were people who were not employable anywhere else."
In September 1855, cholera struck San Francisco. The Sisters of Mercy went to work as nurses in the county hospital. The Daily News described the sisters' labors during the health crisis: "A more horrible and ghastly sight we have seldom witnessed. In the midst of this scene of sorrow, pain, anguish, and danger were ministering angels who disregarded everything to aid their distressed fellow creatures. The Sisters of Mercy . . . did not stop to inquire whether the poor sufferers were Protestants or Catholics, Americans or foreigners, but with the noblest devotion applied themselves to their relief. . . The idea of danger never seems to have occurred to these noble women; they needed nothing of the kind."
As a result of their nursing during the cholera epidemic, the sisters were asked to take charge of the county hospital. Mother Baptist agreed, but after months or caring for the indigent at the sisters' expense, she told the county it would have to meet its obligation to the sisters. She ended up buying the hospital for $14,000, and when the county built a new hospital, Mother Baptist opened Saint Mary's in 1857, the first Catholic hospital on the West Coast.
Commented Doyle: "Oftentimes today we have so much strategic planning and long range everything, but Baptist Russell didn't plan what she was going to do. She experienced reality and then began to build. So she didn't necessarily plan to build a home for the aged, but when someone came and asked for shelter and there was no place to put her, that began the whole sheltering of the infirm aged. That was her passion, an absolute passion."
Not the least of the sisters' challenges was anti-Catholic bigotry. When an ardent anti-Catholic writer waged a campaign accusing the Sisters of Mercy of mismanaging the hospital and abusing patients, Mother Baptist urged a grand jury investigation of his allegations. The grand jury lauded the hospital as one of three outstanding institutions of San Francisco, along with the schools and the fire department.
"What you see in the early foundresses and certainly in Mother Baptist Russell was a high degree of flexibility, adaptation, creativity, and risk," noted Doyle. "Her reliance upon the providence of God prompted her to respond first and worry about financing the project later, prompting a bishop to comment that her heart was bigger than her purse.'"
In 1868, smallpox hit the city. So contagious was the disease that, according to Doyle, "even ministers would not visit their dying parishioners." City officials opened pesthouses for those inflicted with the disease. Nurses worked only during the day, leaving victims of smallpox unattended in the darkness from dusk until dawn.
Sr. Mary Baptist received permission for the sisters to work in the pest houses, and for 10 months they lived among the smallpox victims. She nursed alongside the sisters until the bishop demanded that she return to the convent. Eventually he gave in, and Mother Baptist went back to the pesthouses. Commented a writer of the period: "Those devoted Sisters of Mercy willingly presented themselves and entered on a mission of charity from which all others shrink in dismay . . . . Their fearless, self-sacrificing love is an honor to their church and to their order."
The sisters' acts of mercy helped assuage the anti-Catholic bigotry. According to Doyle, Mother Baptist set the tone for reaching out to persons of all backgrounds and language groups. "She worked with atheists, agnostics, bigots, criminals, murderers. There was no disease too gruesome and no person beyond the realm of transformation." She loved to help people—especially the poor—and in so doing, she became a legend. She provided wedding dresses for brides too poor to purchase them. She visited men in prisons. She stole from the hospital linen supply to give to the poor. Legend has it that Mother Baptist would pull up her petticoat and wrap the hospital bed linens around her waist and stuff them in her sleeves. When she reached the home of a needy family, she would pull the linen out and make the beds. She did this so often that the sisters put locks on the linen closets. One time, she pulled her own mattress down the stairs to give it to a poor man.
But, according to Doyle, Mother Baptist's world was always bigger than her immediate environment. She sent money to Ireland to help during the potato famine and money to Japan to help a leper settlement there.
"She didn't think in terms of great projects," said Doyle, "she thought in terms of people. She wouldn't accept anyone into the community who didn't have a passion for those who were poor. The only thing she would not give an inch on was love for the poor."
When Mother Baptist Russell died in August 1898, thousands came to her funeral. Fr. R.E. Kenna, a Jesuit priest, summed up her life in a letter to the bereaved sisters:
"Gentle as a little child, she was brave and resolute as a crusader. Prudence itself, yet she was fearless in doing good to the needy. . . . All who met her were forced to admire; and those who knew her best loved her most."