FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE AND HER WORK
In September, 1854, after the battle of Alma, the English newspapers
were filled with complaints and protests concerning the treatment of
the sick and the wounded in the Crimea, and Sir Robert Peel started
a relief fund which amounted to nearly $60,000. Lord Sidney Herbert,
secretary of war, asked Florence Nightingale if she would go to Turkey
with a party of nurses and carry out the scheme of relief proposed by
the contributors to the fund. It is a singular fact that his letter
was crossed in the mails by one from Miss Nightingale volunteering
her services, not as a leader or director of the movement, but as an
ordinary nurse.
Miss Nightingale was then a little more than thirty-four years old. She
was the youngest daughter of William Shore Nightingale, a descendant
of a famous old Derbyshire family of considerable wealth, and her
mother was the daughter of William Smith, a practical philanthropist,
an associate of Wilberforce in the abolition of slavery, in prison
reforms, and similar movements, and for many years a member of the
House of Commons.
Miss Nightingale was born in Florence, Italy, May 12, 1820; hence her
name. From early childhood, she had been associated with philanthropic
movements in which her father and grandfather were engaged, and
natural inclination as well as deep sympathy with distress led her
to give her entire time to benevolent work instead of seeking social
enjoyment and distinction. During her girlhood she had been thoroughly
educated, was familiar with the classics and modern languages, and was
one of the first women anywhere to take up the study of medicine.
She gained practical experience in the hospitals of London, Dublin, and
Edinburgh, spent three years with the Sœurs de Charité at Paris, in
the Institute of Protestant Deaconesses at Kaiserworth on the Rhine,
and in the hospitals at Berlin and Brussels, and in 1850, upon her
return to England, had undertaken the management of a home for sick
governesses in London. She was also engaged with Sir Robert Raikes in
organizing “ragged schools” and in segregating diseased children who
attended them. In the meantime she had established a training school
for nurses--the first in England.
She thus had ten years of preparation for the work she was called
to perform in the Crimea, and within ten days after receiving her
invitation from the secretary of war, was on her way to Constantinople
with a staff of thirty-eight trained nurses, including fourteen
Anglican Sisters and ten Roman Catholic Sisters of Mercy. All of them
were volunteers and among them were three ladies of noble families.
Upon their arrival at Constantinople, Miss Nightingale and her nurses
at once took charge of the hospitals at Scutari, the suburb which
occupies the opposite bank of the Bosphorus, and there they found
3,000 diseased and wounded Englishmen lying on the ground, without
any comforts, and lacking actual necessities. They had no proper
food or medical attendance, and the few surgeons who were trying to
relieve their distress were without instruments or drugs or bandages,
or even the commonest medical supplies. Hundreds died from sheer
exhaustion, from lack of nourishment and ordinary attention, and as
Miss Nightingale herself described the scene: “Neglect, mismanagement
and disease had united to render the situation one of unparalleled
hideousness.”
Within a few days Miss Nightingale had in operation a kitchen capable
of feeding eight hundred men daily, and a laundry which was ample to
wash the linen that had never been changed until she came. With a
daring that few men would have shown, she ordered warehouses broken
open by force and confiscated supplies that were needed by her
patients. Her courage, her zeal, and her determination brought order
out of chaos, and a few weeks after her arrival the hospitals at
Scutari were in excellent condition.
As is usual in such cases, Miss Nightingale was the continual object of
attack from malicious, jealous, and uncharitable people. But this made
no difference in her work or her influence, and when she received an
autograph letter from Queen Victoria conveying her congratulations and
expressions of gratitude and sympathy she felt sure of her position.
More nurses kept coming from England, and several other hospitals
were established on the Bosphorus. Then Miss Nightingale went to the
Crimea and organized at Balaklava and vicinity the work I have already
described. In addition to hospitals, she established a series of
reading tents and recreation huts for the diversion of the soldiers,
and sent to England for books, periodicals, and newspapers. She set
up neat coffee houses as a counter attraction to the liquor saloons;
she started lecture courses, opened school-rooms, and upon her own
responsibility founded a bank where the soldiers could deposit their
pay and secure money orders for transmission home. More than $350,000
passed through her hands in that way before the end of the war.
After the evacuation of the Crimea by the British troops, Florence
Nightingale returned to England. Her last act in the Crimea was the
dedication of a cross, twenty feet high, upon the crest of a crag
overlooking her hospital. The only inscription was these words:
LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US
Upon her return to England, Miss Nightingale received from Queen
Victoria a beautiful jewel designed by Prince Albert, accompanied by
an autograph letter; the sultan of Turkey sent her a diamond bracelet,
valued at $100,000, and she was overwhelmed with gifts, testimonials,
and tributes of every sort from municipalities, corporations,
benevolent societies, religious associations, and individuals. A
fund in cash, amounting to about $240,000, raised as a gift to her,
was at her request devoted to the establishment of a training school
for nurses at St. Thomas’s Hospital. She was a guest of the queen at
Balmoral, she received the “freedom of the city” from nearly every
town of importance in England, and was honoured in every possible way
by every class of people, from royalty to the clubs of workingmen and
women.
She was the only woman who ever received the Order of Merit; she was
the only woman who was ever made a member of the Order of St. John of
Jerusalem; Queen Victoria bestowed upon her the Red Cross; the city of
London conferred upon her “the freedom of the city,” an honour enjoyed
by only one other woman--the late Baroness Burdette-Coutts. For twenty
years or more her birthday has always been recognized by an autograph
letter of congratulations from the queen or the king of England, and by
resolutions of congratulations from numerous organizations throughout
the world.
She celebrated her ninetieth birthday on May 12, 1910, and one of the
first acts of King George V, who came to the throne only a few days
previously, was to send her a telegram of congratulation.
After her return from the Crimea, Miss Nightingale was engaged for
several years, under the direction of the secretary of state for war,
in reorganizing the military hospital service of Great Britain. Her
instructions and rules in regard to army nursing, which fill a large
volume, prepared at the request of the war office, have been the basis
of reforms throughout the world. They were of special importance during
the Civil War in the United States and the war between France and
Germany which followed shortly after, and led to the founding of the
Red Cross Society, now established in every civilized country.
Miss Nightingale did not confine her work to the military service, but
directed and assisted the organization of training schools for nurses
in all the principal cities of Great Britain and the establishment of
district nursing associations for outdoor relief among the poor. Her
theory had always been that hospitals should be reserved for surgical
cases and infectious or contagious diseases and that, so far as
possible, the indigent sick should be treated in their own homes.
She reorganized the infirmaries connected with workhouses and
almshouses throughout Great Britain, and through her influence acts
of Parliament were passed making compulsory the employment of trained
nurses in these institutions instead of women paupers to whose tender
mercies the care of the sick had always been committed.
During all this activity, Miss Nightingale found time to write a series
of books of instruction, and many pamphlets and papers concerning
public health and the efficiency of hospital administration. In 1858,
she published a book on hospital construction. In 1860, her “Notes on
Nursing,” a volume of five hundred pages, ran up to an edition of one
hundred thousand copies. Other publications on similar subjects came
from her pen with extraordinary frequency.
But at last her frail constitution broke down under this labour and
responsibility. She became a helpless invalid, confined to her bed for
more than twenty-five years, yet she continued to devote her entire
time to “doing good work--work after my own heart, and, I trust, God’s
work.” From her pillow she continued to direct several institutions
and movements in which she was particularly interested. The meetings
of boards of directors and trustees of a dozen benevolent institutions
were held regularly in her bedroom, and her judgment was regarded of
the highest value on all subjects relating to hospital management and
benevolent work. Even up to the last month of her life she continued
to receive reports and to give instructions, to write communications to
the government authorities and to give advice upon various subjects,
and it was not until forty-eight hours before her death that she was
considered dangerously ill.
There never was a more useful woman than Florence Nightingale, and
never one more honoured and revered throughout the world. Therefore
there was a universal demand in England that she should be honoured
with a burial and a monument in Westminster Abbey, and when the
executors of her estate who were in charge of the funeral refused an
offer from the dean and chapter, there was great surprise. It afterward
appeared that Miss Nightingale had given the following directions in
her will:
“I give my body for dissection or _post-mortem_ examination for the
purposes of medical science, and I request that the directions about my
funeral given by me to my uncle, the late Samuel Smith, be observed.
My original request was that no memorial whatever should mark the
place where lies my ‘mortal coil.’ I much desire this, but should the
expression of such wish render invalid my other wishes, I limit myself
to the above-mentioned directions, praying that my body may be carried
to the nearest convenient burial ground, accompanied by not more than
two persons without trappings, and that a simple cross with only my
initials, date of birth and of death, mark the spot.”
Balaklava, which was the scene of Miss Nightingale’s usefulness, is
an ancient village of Greek fishermen, whose ancestors settled on the
southern shores of the Crimea at least three thousand years ago, to
catch the unusually large variety of fish in which that section of the
Black Sea abounds. Balaklava is the source of a large portion of the
supply of the eggs of the pilchard, the most popular of caviars among
Russian epicures. The name Balaklava is a composition of “bella” and
“klava,” which means “fine port,” although the bay is no larger than
a Norwegian fiord, and is set like a sapphire between two emerald
mountains. The entrance is as crooked as the letter S and very narrow.
Balaklava is also an unfashionable summer resort, a retreat for tired
people, who wish to escape society and who are not fond of style. There
are three or four unpretentious hotels, two or three beautiful villas,
and every fisher-wife takes boarders. There are bathing houses, a
hydropathic sanitarium, and on the mountain side among the vineyards a
“grape cure” establishment, which at the height of the fad was largely
patronized.
There is only one street in the village and houses on only one side
of that. Every citizen, therefore, has the benefit of an exquisite
view. There are a few small shops and cafés and two pavilions where
visitors can sit and sip their tea and look over the waters. The view
is fascinating and the effect is heightened by the miniature character
of the place--the bay is so tiny, the village so small, and the cliffs
which enclose them are so high and bold and rugged.
A walk over the cliffs leads to the ruins of a castle and fortress
built by the Genoese in the Middle Ages on the summit to command the
harbour. Only a portion of the walls remain. The castle, or citadel,
was the apex of a triangular fortification, the base of which was
parallel to the port, and there was a strong tower at each corner.
The Genoese were in possession of this part of the coast for several
centuries and made Balaklava a stronghold. A graphic description of
the place was written by a Russian merchant named Nikitin, who stopped
here in 1472 on his return from a trip to India, but a thousand years
previous Balaklava was described by Strabo and other Greek writers when
it was known as “the calm port of the signals.”
“Miss Nightingale’s seat,” on the hillside overlooking the village,
is a group of rocks where she used to go for rest and thought, and
beside it are the graves of a few of her brave nurses. Every house in
which she slept, every place in the vicinity that is associated with
her in any way is hallowed. The present owners are as proud of that
distinction as owners of English castles are of the rooms in which
Queen Elizabeth slept. Her principal hospital was at the monastery of
St. George, said to be the oldest and one of the largest in Russia.
Most of the monks fled on the approach of the allies, and the British
seized the buildings for hospital purposes and placed them under Miss
Nightingale’s charge. The room she occupied is sacred and is shown to
all visitors with great satisfaction.
The monastery was built in the latter part of the ninth century,
somewhere about the year 890, by certain Greek merchants who were
miraculously saved during a fearful storm by the intercession of St.
George. It occupies an extraordinary position at the top of a cliff,
several hundred feet above the sea, in the midst of an amphitheatre of
black basaltic rock, which rises to the height of one thousand feet
on both sides and in the rear. The amphitheatre is entered through
a tunnel cut in the rocks, no doubt by the ancient troglodytes,
whose remains are found in the neighbourhood. Tradition says that
this amphitheatre was the site of a temple and altar to the goddess
Iphigenia, daughter of Agamemnon, and here were sacrificed all
strangers and castaways that the Tauri found upon their coast.
The most interesting remains of the troglodytes are found in cliffs
overhanging a little stream at Inkerman, where another fierce battle
was fought during the Crimean war. The Russians have erected a monument
in the field where most of the fighting was done, and a granite shaft
marks the centre of the English camp, which is inscribed:
In memory of the English, French
and Russian soldiers who fell in the
battle of Inkerman, Nov. 5, 1854.
Erected by the British Army, 1856
The battle of Inkerman was a surprise. The Russians crept up a ravine
in the night and before daylight struck the sleeping Englishmen in
their camp. It so happened that many of the officers were absent and in
the beginning every soldier fought independently for his life. After
the dawn, when there was light enough for the Englishmen to see what
was going on, the defence was thoroughly organized and the Russians
were driven back with a heavy loss.
The village of Inkerman occupies the head of the bay which forms the
harbour of Sevastopol and is surrounded by the most noted quarries in
southern Russia. They have been worked for ages, and vast chambers have
been excavated in the soft limestone which underlies the scanty soil of
a high, dry, bare plateau. These chambers are entered through square
doorways cut in the cliffs and wooden tramways and skids are laid along
the floors of the galleries, so that the blocks of stone can be hauled
out. It is as soft as chalk when first cut, but grows hard by exposure.
Odessa, Sevastopol and other cities in southern Russia are built almost
entirely of this material. At present the quarrymen are engaged in
cutting out vast quantities of small blocks of stone for a new palace
which the czar is building on his estate on the Crimean coast, near
Yalta.
Both walls of the gorge in which Inkerman sits are honeycombed
with artificial caves, supposed to have been the dwellings of the
troglodytes of mythology in prehistoric ages, and afterward the
refuge of the early Christians during the persecutions of the emperor
Justinian. Some of the caves were converted into chapels and are used
as such still. There is a monastery of twelve or fifteen monks entirely
underground, occupying the cliff dwellings of the troglodytes, and on
the opposite side of the gorge is a chapel that will accommodate a
hundred and fifty or two hundred people, where service is held every
Sabbath and mass is sung every morning. In the vestibule are niches for
coffins, and only clean skeletons are lying in three open graves which
were chiselled out of the stone. They were uncovered only a few years
ago and are supposed to be the remains of early bishops or priests.
Pope Clement I was sentenced by the emperor Trajan of Rome, to hard
labour in these quarries and was brought here in the year 94 A.D. He
was afterward condemned to death for trying to convert the natives to
Christianity and suffered martyrdom by being thrown from the cliffs
into the sea in the year 100. Until the ninth century, on each
anniversary of his death, the sea receded from the shore for the space
of seven days, leaving his petrified body exposed upon the sands, and
multitudes of pilgrims came here on these occasions to venerate him and
to be relieved of deformities, disease, and distress. Pope Clement was
subsequently canonized.