Mother Katharine Drexel

by Cheryl C. D. Hughes

  Most important for the girls’ religious and spiritual development was the example set by their parents. Emma Drexel had an oratory built in their home, where the entire family said nightly prayers together before the girls went to bed. Francis Drexel spent a half hour in personal prayer immediately after arriving home from the bank every evening. He would then relax by playing the organ for an hour before dinner. As a young man, he had made about $150 a year playing the organ for St. John’s Church in Manayunk, Pennsylvania, so he was an excellent musician. He played a mixture of secular and religious classical compositions, which could be heard all over the house. Johann Sebastian Bach was a favorite composer.

  My father would come home from the office and go right up to his room and kneel down beside a chair — one of those chairs that I think are now in our sacristy, the round ones, you know — and there he would pray — the oratory would have been too public — there he would have been seen — but in his room he would not have been seen by the help. Then he would go to the organ and play — oh, he would play so beautifully. . . .

  Prayer was like breathing . . . there was no compulsion, no obligation . . . it was natural to pray. . . .

  Night prayers were always said together. We were usually in bed by eight o’clock when we were children. Then in our little night dresses we would go to the top of the stairs and call down, “Mama! Papa!”

  Then Papa (we did not call him “Dad”) would leave his organ or his paper and Mama her writing, and both at the call of the children would come up and kneel for night prayers in the little oratory.14

  Francis Drexel sat on a number of charitable boards and gave regularly and generously to a variety of mostly, but not exclusively, Catholic enterprises. His charities would often be the topic of discussion at the family dinner table. When he died, his philanthropy, covered by both the Catholic and secular press, became the topic of conversation for millions of Americans who were amazed at its extent. Emma Drexel approached charity in a far more personal manner — personal to herself and personal to the recipients of her charity. Three days a week she would open her doors to Philadelphia’s poor, who would come to ask her for shoes, clothes, medicine, or rent money. Hundreds of people would gather at her back door and wait for an opportunity to ask Mrs. Drexel for help. “The front door and the back door was [sic] besieged by a crowd of beggars, who at last became so clamorous that Mama had to scare them off with the face of a policeman. The poor man was at wit’s end as to how the crowd was to be diminished.”15 However, Emma Drexel did not simply hand out money arbitrarily. She employed Mary Bilger as her assistant. Miss Bilger would visit the tenements looking for those who truly needed help. She would give the person a card to present to Mrs. Drexel on an appointed day. Mrs. Drexel would listen to the individual’s story and give what she thought appropriate. Katharine wrote, “It is amazing how humble the old people are when arriving in Mama’s presence.” Katharine went on to tell a charming story of one very persistent woman. The woman began, “I have none but auld shoes on me feet.” Emma gave her new shoes. Next she asked for shoes for her five children and got them. Then she asked for coal, and then for flannels, then for the rent money to keep her family from being evicted — then “a bit of food for Jimmy, he’s so sick.” Lastly she begged, “Little Mary needs a dress.” Even though the woman asked for so much, Emma Drexel filled all her requests. But she kept meticulous records and would know if the woman were to return too soon and that her charitable funds and her kindness had been abused.16

  About my mother . . . , she employed someone to go around and visit the poor and she made a report to my mother. If the report were favorable and the woman had given the person a ticket, the ticket could be presented to my mother in person.

  About three times a week, my mother would go to the back room, and people would come to her. They would crowd around the entrance on Moravian St. As soon as my mother opened the door, there would be a grand rush to be the first one in.

  I often think my mother had no human respect. She never seemed to wonder what the neighbors would think or say when they saw the crowd gathered day after day during the winter months. My mother remained in this room, and each one who came and presented a ticket was received and given all the time she wanted to tell her story. My mother knew the details beforehand, from the woman [Miss Bilger] who had reported it. My mother would try to devise means of giving the needed help right then and there — a grocery order or an order for coal or rent, or shoes — poor things, they mostly needed shoes. But all according to their needs. Sometimes when the crowd was large and the weather extremely cold or bad, those who had tickets would be told to wait in the out-building, which was warm, and those who had no ticket would gradually disperse. The great need was for shoes. I remember . . . Mrs. Smith, Elizabeth, often helped them — she graduated before I did, and then she could help Mama.

  Everything given out was noted down in a book, so Mama knew if the same need was brought to her again very soon it was because the right use had not been made of the thing given before, or they might have sold or traded it for drink, or something else, and then Mama would be able to inquire and the records gave her the information she needed. In this way Mama took a personal interest in them. And they knew it and she was able to direct them. She got to know them and know their needs. And her sympathy was unwearying.17

  Katharine Drexel and her sisters learned a great deal from working with their mother in her direct and personal approach to charity. Within the family, Emma Drexel’s personal charity was called the Dorcas, after Dorcas (or Tabitha), the woman in Acts 9 who ministered to the poor. As soon as her daughters were old enough, they helped their mother by meeting with the poor and sorting out the needs that could be helped by the Dorcas. They also helped her keep records. Emma taught the girls not to let themselves be taken advantage of by the unscrupulous, because that would be to the disadvantage of the truly needy. After a gravedigger tried to overcharge her for a five-dollar job, thinking that a rich lady would not know any better, Emma sent him away. Later she reflected on this in her journal.

  Because a man is poor he need not necessarily be mean, nor is it true charity to encourage him in his meanness by indolently or good naturedly permitting him to compromise his manhood. If a man is poor and despite his poverty, is above temptation of littleness, he is nobler than a monarch. . . . Look not then, foolish man, upon the benevolent lady as an imbecile whose soft heart receives every impression, but rather regard her as one who in the exercise of her vocation calls forth all the powers of her mind as well as heart and who possess[es] the “keenness of a knave, the kindness of a fool, and the judgment of a philosopher.”18

  Emma Drexel paid the annual rent for over 150 families and spent up to $30,000 a year through the Dorcas. This is the charitable activity Francis Drexel referred to in his New Year’s letter to Emma in 1863. “God has bestowed on us abundance. Continue your charities in His name. Be the dispenser of His gifts.”19 Katharine absorbed these early lessons in charity and how to manage it.

  No one would ever take Katharine or her sisters for fools or imbeciles. They learned at their mother’s knee to be keen, kind, and clear in judgment, lessons that were amply reinforced by their father. Charity and good business practices went hand in hand. Katharine would put these early lessons to work in even greater magnitude than that envisioned by either of her parents, yet all was not dullness and duty in the Drexel household.

  Perhaps inspired by the travels and adventures of Martin Drexel, Francis Drexel took his family on annual tours of the United States. When the girls were old enough, the family went on a grand tour of Europe. He believed that his daughters should learn their geography firsthand. He took them hiking in the mountains and bathing at the seashore. When a very young Katie was frightened by the waves, her father carried her in his arms into the spray, holding on to her tightly. His laughter and his strength calmed her until she actually enjoyed the experien
ce. The incident had a profound influence on the little girl. “When he brought me back to shore, my fear was gone. Many times in life after, that incident has given me courage, for I felt my Heavenly Father’s Arms were as protectingly around me as had been dear Papa’s.”20 The spiritual presence of God seemed to be a constant reality for Katharine.

  Girlhood

  At a time when most American Catholics took Communion no more than once a month and went to Mass only on Sundays, the senior Drexels took Communion weekly and went to Mass almost daily. While young Katie went to Mass with her parents, the custom of waiting until the age of twelve to receive first Communion galled her. She begged to be admitted to the Communion table: “Dear Mama, I am going to make my first Communion and you will see how I shall try to be good. Let me make it in May, the most beautiful of all months.”21

  Later, when she was nine, she wrote to her mother a Christmas letter in French: “I am going to make the Stations of the Cross for you, my darling Mama, and for Papa and Louise, too. I am trying to study hard so that I may make my first Communion this year. Mama dear, my letter is nearly finished. A thousand thanks, my dear Mama, for all of the Christmas presents you will give me. Nothing in the world could please me more than if you like this letter. I am hoping it will please you as much as your presents will please me.” In true childish fashion, even as Katharine was longing for Communion, she was at the same time longing for sweets. Mrs. Drexel did not allow the children candy except at Christmas, and when they were very young they did not get candy even then. In the same 1867 Christmas letter in which Katharine announced that she was studying to make her first Communion, she pleaded for bonbons for herself and for Louise, whom Mrs. Drexel did not believe had ever tasted sweets. “Oh! What fun I shall have enjoying bonbons and receiving so many lovely things. Mama dear, before going any further with this letter, I must ask you to let Louise have some bonbons, too. I assure you that she knows the taste of them very well. Now that she knows almost the whole alphabet, you will let her have some bonbons? She is just a little girl, so intelligent and sweet, you really cannot refuse her some sweets.”22 Katharine loved all kinds of good food. On July 3, 1870, when she was finally allowed to have her first Communion at the age of eleven, a year younger than either of her sisters, she wrote a letter to her aunt at the Sacred Heart convent, Madame Louise Bouvier, telling her about the big day. After the Communion and Confirmation, the Drexels hosted the entire Communion class and their families to an elegant and sumptuous brunch. Katharine was so carried away with her descriptions of the foods that she hardly mentioned the reason for the party. Her aunt quite took her to task: “I am disappointed. I did not want or care to know about the breakfast, but I did want to know your thoughts and feelings as you received our dear Lord.”23

  It was one of those rebukes that a sensitive person could never forget. “I remember my First Communion and my letter that day. Jesus made me shed tears because of His greatness in stooping to me. Truth made me feel the mite I was. I did not realize nor was I ashamed of my sensuality.”24

  Her sensuality for foods extended to sensuality for pretty things. Mrs. Drexel had her underclothes and those of the girls, along with some of their other clothing and clothing to be distributed by the Dorcas, made by the Magdalens at the Convent of the Good Shepherd. In this way she could benefit the Magdalens and the Dorcas recipients at the same time. Emma Drexel specified that the girls’ dresses be plain and unornamented. Katie contrarily beseeched the sister taking her measurements, “Please do put lots of lace and ruffles on my dress, just like Mama’s.”25 Not satisfied with pretty dresses, young Katharine also craved jewelry.

  Dear Mama,

  I hope this letter will be an improvement on my others, for I am going to take great pains to do it well. Will you have my ears pierced, for I am in such a hurry to have my ears pierced? Everybody loves earrings.

  Love, Katie Drexel26

  Her love of candies, sweets, and pretty things placed young Katharine Drexel in the mainstream of children her age. Even her budding piety was not yet enough to set her apart from other children. Indeed, like other small children, Katharine was not beyond temper tantrums. For some small thwarted desire, she had a temper tantrum on a trolley car with her mother. Once home, Mr. Drexel applied the paternal hand and the young miscreant was denied a place at the dinner table with Mama, Papa, and her sisters. Time, maturity, and greater introspection and discernment would be required for the development of this particular saint.

  Katharine and her sisters spent their growing up time in the arms of their extended family. Elizabeth and Katharine were taken every Saturday morning to visit Grandmother Langstroth and their Langstroth and Lehman cousins. Their grandmother Langstroth maintained a duck pond to amuse the children and set aside a playroom stocked with dolls and toys of all sorts for the children. Katie’s favorite doll was an African American male doll dressed as a footman in velvet livery. The other cousins rejected this particular doll, but, for whatever reason, Katie adored it.27

  Though the girls dearly loved their Langstroth relatives, they were confused and worried about them because they were Protestant. Elizabeth once told her grandmother that it was so sad that she, the grandmother, would not go to heaven. It seems that Johanna Ryan, the well loved and militantly Catholic nursemaid of the Drexels, had told the girls that only Catholics go to heaven. Oddly enough, this very Protestant woman would have one granddaughter and two nieces who became Catholic nuns, two of whom would found their own orders and two of whom would be missionary sisters. Her niece Eugenia “entered the Carmelite order at Pamplona, Spain, as Sister Maria Isabel of Jesus. As a cloistered nun, she prayed for the souls of her aristocratic relatives, and, as if in answer to her prayers, her sister, Louisa, the most worldly member of the family, entered religion and founded the Congregation of the Servants of Our Lady of Fatima.”28 Despite the impressive qualities and credentials of her Catholic relatives and their prayers for her conversion, beloved Grandmother Langstroth remained a firm Protestant.

  After Sunday morning mass, Elizabeth, Katie, and Louise would visit Grandmother Bouvier, “as stately a dame as ever graced the court of Versailles.”29 There were twelve children in the Bouvier family, so there were always an abundance of aunts, uncles, and cousins to entertain the three Drexel girls. Katharine went almost daily to the Convent of the Sacred Heart while her mother visited her sister, Madame Louise Bouvier. The convent was almost a second home to her and no doubt impressed her greatly.

  Sunday afternoons were spent with Grandmother Drexel. There was an implied tension between the senior Mrs. Drexel and Emma Drexel, indicated by the terms of the former’s will, in which bequests were left for each of her daughters and grandchildren, except for Louise and any other children born of the union of Emma and Francis Drexel.30 It seems impossible that Louise had somehow offended her grandmother Drexel, and certainly any children yet unborn could not have, so the most likely explanation is that the rift was between the senior Mrs. Drexel and Emma Drexel. The source of the tension has never been disclosed.

  In the summertime, the Drexel family retreated to the countryside. For several years they rented a three-acre farm in Nicetown, Pennsylvania. The girls christened the farm “the Nest.” Their life there was far more free, casual, and leisurely. Mr. Drexel took the train into the city each day during the week to conduct his business, while the girls romped in the fields or played with the donkey cart. Elizabeth and Katharine were allowed to drive the donkey cart to the store in town to buy kerosene for the lamps. Mr. Drexel and Emma took the girls for long walks in the countryside in the early evenings. Mr. Drexel believed in walking as a form of exercise important to the health and well-being of women. It was a belief that Katharine would carry over into her later life with the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament when she had her postulants and novices walking for an hour a day.

  After spending several enjoyable summers in their “Nest” at Nicetown, the D
rexels purchased a large summer estate near Torresdale, Pennsylvania. The old farmhouse and outbuildings had to be remodeled extensively, but it was ready for the family in June of 1871. The family now had a new nest, which they called St. Michel, or St. Michael, after the patron saint of Emma’s father, pronounced by the family in the French manner. A stone statue of the saint was imported from France and installed over the lintel of the front door. In this home, too, an oratory was built. In many ways, St. Michel was to become the heart of Drexel family life. They came early in the spring and stayed until the leaves were beginning to flame in the fall. They returned for a lengthy stay during the Christmas season. In due time, St. Michel would also become the first novitiate and convent of the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, but for years, it was merely the playground of the Drexels, especially the girls.

  Yet even there Emma Drexel recognized that young girls, who were becoming young women, needed structure and direction in their lives during the summer months. She assessed the personalities and interests of her daughters and assigned them duties accordingly. Elizabeth, who loved horses, supervised the stables and the kitchen. Katharine, who was good with the servants and accounts, had supervision of the general household. Louise, who loved the outdoors, oversaw the barn and grounds. In this way, Emma prepared her daughters to assume their proper roles as ladies of great households. She saw marriage and children in their futures and set about getting them ready for their adult responsibilities.