from Second Sowing: the life of Mary Aloysia Hardey by Margaret Williams.

Can we call this friend an early associate?

Margaret Williams introduces us to Liza, the friend described above, in an early chapter of Second Sowing. Liza was an orphan of color whom Bishop Dubourg had given to Philippine. When she sent Mother Audé and Sister Layton to Grand Coteau, Philippine sent Liza along with them. Very attached to Mother Audé, Liza followed her to St. Michael’s, and there she came to know Mother Hardey, whom she chose as her spiritual guide. It seems Liza did not want to be black; one day Mother Hardey found her weeping in her cabin, a whole pile of wet bandannas beside her. She had been told that she would turn white if she cried a hogshead full of tears. Mother Hardey tried to persuade her that it was not worth the effort.

Superiors came and went at St. Michael’s and Liza loved them all, but Mother Hardey was the favorite. The Annual Letters record Mother Hardey’s visit to St. Michael’s before going to Rome in 1872. It was then that the scene described above took place. Liza insisted that Mother Hardey not go away “until I have opened my soul to her.” After they had had a visit, she declared that she would like to follow her beloved mentor to Rome, but she was willing to stay and take care of Mother Hardey’s daughters

Liza had two unhappy marriages. When the second husband made off with all her possessions, she returned then to the Sacred Heart for good. Under Mother Shannon’s guidance she made a vow of charity, which she renewed every year on Pentecost, wearing a new white dress, the annual gift of Mother Hardey.

She was particularly fond of Mother Mary Elizabeth Moran who was sent to oversee the foundation in Mexico. Liza wrote to her that she was too long in “that Spanish town;” it was time to come home: “You’re needed here, for what’s a home without a Mother?” She was a great dictator of letters to her beloved nuns, and the scribes made the effort to write phonetically so that her voice comes through, not to mention her personality. We have one of these letters in our archives; it is addressed to Mother Louise Bouvier,* mistress of studies in New York at the time; it is written in the careful, even hand of an educated person, but the spelling and grammar are Liza’s own.

She begins by apologizing for the delay in writing because she had to wait for the Lady “what is sitting in my cabin now, writin’ down all that I tells her to say.” She is afraid her correspondent will think she has no manners, but she wants her to know that “Madame Duchesne and Madame Hardey was mighty particlar when … raisin’ me to show Liza what was right and what was left.” She goes on to describe her physical troubles; she is sure that when the Lord sees that she has suffered enough, he will make the way smooth, but in the meantime, “It’s all hills and hollows and the pebbles and the sharp bits of rock sticks in mighty smart.”

She then gives a report of the health of Mother Moran who has just returned to St. Michael’s, but she complains that Mother Moran can’t be persuaded to settle down and live quietly at home. She blames Madame Aloysia Hardey for giving these superiors in Louisiana ideas about “flittin’ from house to house.” She has given them a taste for cars and boats, and ever since, they are like the moon: “always achangin’ and achangin.’ ”
Reverting to her own health, she comments that Liza won’t be much longer in this world: “it seems like her web is most spun, there ain’t much yarn left on the spool…” Elaborate compliments and greetings follow to all the Ladies of the Sacred Heart who, she says, are all locked up in her heart.

She signed it forthrightly: Liza Nebbitt, Coloured child of the Sacred Heart, first slave what was brought in this convent by Mother Duchesne.