THE MAGDALEN ASYLUM
The Home of the Unfortunate—How the Institution Stands—Sisters of Charity—The City of the Dead.
San Francisco Chronicle, Dec. 10, 1871
The descent of avernis is easy, but the climbing of the upward path is an undertaking that few attempt and fewer still succeed in. Hard as it is to the man who in any way has fallen from his manhood—through downright dishonor or sheer weakness—how infinitely more difficult is it for the woman who has lost "her all, her heaven, her God," to regain the purity of soul and gentle bearing which were her heritage, Easy to lose, God knows, in this California world, with its feverish haste and strange doctrines and
LAX CHRISTIANITY;
But when once the bolts and bars of the social plan declare the erring woman an outcast and a polluted thing, what strong hand or cheering voice shall remove
THESE TERRIBLE OBSTACLES
And point out the uphill road, with its yawning precipices on either side?
Woman of fashion, you whose pleasures have not only obscured but destroyed the wonderful God-given instincts, the love of children, the love of husband, the love of home, are you so far removed from your giddy sister, who has made her choice of shame and grasped the substance for the shadow? Cold woman, whose very piety is in itself a formula, is not your safety in many cases owing rather to the chill heart and the
SLUGGISH CURRENTS
Of the blood then the character and true love of purity that defies temptation? Woman of wealth and friends, who grew and matured surrounded by a strong fortress of love and care, do not draw your skirts disdainfully aside when you pass by the lost life that, perchance, never knew the protection of friends, never listened to the parents teaching, and who ventured among the great world's snares without the guardian arm of a brother or the counseling voice of a mother or sister,
Among our charitable Institutions none rank higher in pure kindliness of purpose than the Magdalen Asylum. The title of this
HOUSE OF REFUGE
Is in itself a poem. For on the dark side of life lies the poetry of life, which, fulfilling its true end, finds a way to the human heart through the icy barrier of selfishness and worldly ambition. Yesterday a member of the CHRONICLE staff, in the language of Mr. James, the lamented novelist, might have been seen seated in a top buggy, behind a bay horse, navigating the Nicolson billows of Market street. Now, billows is not in the least hyperbolical, for through some cause unknown to us that pavement displays a most extraordinary formation. Safe past the Scyllas of corner arcceries [sic], he drew up before the Asylum, which is situated on Brannan street, near Twenty-fourth.
A SISTER OF CHARITY
Answered the bell, and we were seated, a minute afterward, tete-a-tete with the Mother Superior. Gerald Griffin, an Irish poet, has paid, perhaps, the highest tribute of writer or poet to this noble Order of devoted women. He describes a lady of honor and wealth,
“Whose vesture was blended of silk and of gold, And whose motion shook perfume from every fold,"
Putting aside the trappings of fashion and laboring for the redemption of her sex.
"And the hair that once glistened with diamond and pearl Is wet with the tears of the penitent girl,"
Nobly indeed these good ladies have taken up the cause of the Magdalens, and untiringly do they endeavor to lead them by counsel and example to the better life.
The Asylum now contains 111 inmates. Of these, some 45 have been sent by the authorities to the institution, and the rest are women who
SOUGHT THE REFUGE
Themselves, through a sincere desire to reform. They get a great deal of needlework to do, and the stocking and blanket factories also send them hose to be sewn and blankets to be marked. They are careful and attentive to these duties, full of affection and gratitude for the Sisters, and laboring humbly to wipe out the stains of their great mistake. But the managers labor under many disadvantages. The place is really too limited to accommodate the number that seek its protection. They are too packed and crowded, and indeed it is strange that the health of the establishment has been so good. About last Christmas an addition was erected to the main building 40 by 38 feet, containing a large dining-room, work-room and dormitory. But this was not sufficient, and the Sisters declare yet that their accommodations are too limited.
THE GROUNDS.
Three or four acres on the southern side of the building are devoted to a vegetable and flower garden. The walks are nicely graveled, making a pleasant promenade for the inmates when the day's task is ended. In the rear of the building are the poultry yard, the recreation ground, and the cemetery. The former is well stocked with fowls. Looking at the rocky hillside that rises up behind the Asylum, it does not seem possible that the recreation grounds could have been converted into such a tastefully planted garden. The trees grow well, and in a few years will be tall enough to make the recreation ground a shady retreat.
THE CITY OF THE DEAD.
"This," said the Sister, opening a little gate and admitting us into a high-fenced and wooded in-closure, is our cemetery. But we only bury those of the penitents who had resolved never to leave the institution." Reverently we followed her up the graveled path by the graves of her fellow workers, who, after years of devotion to their kind, here slept calmly in the Lord. Here were no broken columns, nor urns of bronze, nor marble slabs, inscribed with the virtues of the deceased—nothing but simple mounds, and at their head a wooden cross bearing the name in religion of the dead. The humility that marked their lives was retained beyond the threshold of the grave, and their epitaphs are written in the hearts of those they have watched over and befriended. On the other side of a little wooden chapel, where the funeral services are read, are the graves of the penitent women who died in the asylum. Their resting places are marked in the same manner.