_PREPARATION AND DEPARTURE FOR SCUTARI_
Public Curiosity Aroused--Description of Miss Nightingale in the
Press--Criticism--She Selects Thirty-Eight Nurses--Departure of
the “Angel Band”--Enthusiasm of Boulogne Fisherwomen--Arrival at
Scutari.
Lo, what gentillesse these women have,
If we coude know it for our rudenesse!
How busie they be us to keepe and save,
Both in hele, and also in sickenesse!
And always right sorrie for our distresse,
In every manner; thus shew thy routhe,
That in hem is al goodnesse and trouthe.
CHAUCER.
It is characteristic of Miss Nightingale’s method and dispatch that
only a week elapsed from the day on which she made her great resolve
to go to the help of the wounded soldiers until she had her first
contingent of nurses in marching order. She was a “general” who had no
parleying by the way, but worked straight for her ultimate object, and
she possessed also the rare faculty of inspiring others to follow her
lead. Her attention was now concentrated on procuring the right kind
of nurses to accompany her to the hospital at Scutari.
Her mission was duly proclaimed from the War Office in an official
intimation that “Miss Nightingale, a lady with greater practical
experience of hospital administration and treatment than any other
lady in this country,” had undertaken the noble and arduous work of
organising and taking out nurses for the soldiers. _The Times_ also
notified that “Miss Nightingale had been appointed by Government to the
office of Superintendent of Nurses at Scutari,” and subscriptions for
the relief of the soldiers were solicited.
Lady Canning, writing on October 17th, 1854, immediately after
Miss Nightingale’s appointment was made known, gave the following
interesting description of her quiet demeanour in the midst of the
general excitement: “You will be glad to hear that Government sends out
a band of nurses to Scutari, and Miss Nightingale is to lead them. Her
family have consented, and no one is so well fitted as she is to do
such work--she has such nerve and skill, and is so gentle and wise and
quiet. Even now she is in no bustle or hurry, though so much is on her
hands, and such numbers of people volunteer services.”
The public naturally asked the question, “Who is Miss Nightingale?”
and were answered by a descriptive and biographic account in _The
Examiner_, which was repeated by _The Times_. One feels that the
account must have appeared startling in days before attention had been
given to the Higher Education of women, and when Girton and Newnham
were not even dreams of the future. It ran that Miss Nightingale was
“a young lady of singular endowments both natural and acquired. In
a knowledge of the ancient languages and of the higher branches of
mathematics, in general art, science, and literature, her attainments
are extraordinary. There is scarcely a modern language which she does
not understand, and she speaks French, German, and Italian as fluently
as her native English. She has visited and studied all the various
nations of Europe, and has ascended the Nile to its remotest cataract.
Young (about the age of our Queen), graceful, feminine, rich, popular,
she holds a singularly gentle and persuasive influence over all with
whom she comes in contact. Her friends and acquaintances are of all
classes and persuasions, but her happiest place is at home, in the
centre of a very large band of accomplished relatives, and in simplest
obedience to her admiring parents.”
The last clause would satisfy apprehensive people that a young lady of
such unusual attainments was not a “revolting daughter.”
Another and more intimate description of Miss Nightingale at this
period reveals to us the true and tender womanhood which learning had
left untouched. “Miss Nightingale is one of those whom God forms for
great ends. You cannot hear her say a few sentences--no, not even look
at her, without feeling that she is an extraordinary being. Simple,
intellectual, sweet, full of love and benevolence, she is a fascinating
and perfect woman. She is tall and pale. Her face is exceedingly
lovely; but better than all is the soul’s glory that shines through
every feature so exultingly. Nothing can be sweeter than her smile. It
is like a sunny day in summer.”
[Illustration: MR. _PUNCH’S_ CARTOON OF THE “LADY-BIRDS.”]
The euphonious name of the lady nurse who had thus suddenly risen
into fame was quickly caught by the populace, and the nurses selected
to accompany her were dubbed the “nightingales,” and there was much
pleasantry about their singing. Mr. _Punch_ slyly surmised that some
of the “dear nightingales” going to nurse the sick soldiers would “in
due time become ringdoves.” A cartoon showed a hospital ward with the
male inmates beaming with content as the lady-birds hovered about them.
Another illustration depicted a bird, with the head of a nurse, flying
through the air carrying by one claw a jug labelled “Fomentation,
Embrocation, Gruel.” It was entitled “The Jug of the Nightingale.”
_Punch’s_ poet contributed “The Nightingale’s Song to the Sick
Soldier,” which became a popular refrain, and is worthy of quotation:--
Listen, soldier, to the tale of the tender nightingale,
’Tis a charm that soon will ease your wounds so cruel,
Singing medicine for your pain, in a sympathetic strain,
With a jug, jug, jug of lemonade or gruel.
Singing bandages and lint; salve and cerate without stint,
Singing plenty both of liniment and lotion,
And your mixtures pushed about, and the pills for you served out,
With alacrity and promptitude of motion.
Singing light and gentle hands, and a nurse who understands
How to manage every sort of application,
From a poultice to a leech; whom you haven’t got to teach
The way to make a poppy fomentation.
Singing pillow for you, smoothed; smart and ache and anguish smoothed,
By the readiness of feminine invention;
Singing fever’s thirst allayed, and the bed you’ve tumbled made,
With a cheerful and considerate attention.
Singing succour to the brave, and a rescue from the grave,
Hear the nightingale that’s come to the Crimea,
’Tis a nightingale as strong in her heart as in her song,
To carry out so gallant an idea.
While there was a large majority to wish God-speed to the enterprise,
there were also many people who considered it an improper thing for
women to nurse in a military hospital, while others thought it nonsense
for young ladies to attempt “to nurse soldiers when they did not even
yet know what it was to nurse a baby.” Others predicted that no woman
could stand the strain of work in an Eastern hospital, that the scheme
would prove futile, and all the nurses be invalided home after a
month’s experience.
The undertaking was so new, and so much at variance with English
custom and tradition, that criticism was to be expected. But Florence
Nightingale was one of those lofty souls who listen to the voice
within, and take little heed of the voices without. It was for her to
break down the “Chinese wall” of prejudices, religious, social, and
professional, and establish a precedent for all time.
In the midst of the pleasantries, satire, and condemnation she
placidly pursued the work of organising her band, having indefatigable
assistants in Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Herbert. Applications were made
for volunteer nurses to the few nursing institutions which existed,
and advertisements were put in _The Record_ and _The Guardian_. A
bewildering number of fair applicants besieged the War Office, and
Sidney Herbert was driven to make a little proclamation to the effect
that “many ladies whose generous enthusiasm prompts them to offer
services as nurses are little aware of the hardships they would have
to encounter, and the horrors they would have to witness. Were all
accepted who offer,” he added with a touch of grim humour, “I fear
we should have not only many indifferent nurses, but many hysterical
patients.”
This astute Minister was very cautious about the admission of society
ladies in the guise of amateur nurses into the military hospital. He
managed things with a stricter hand than did the authorities during the
South African War, as illustrated by the story of a soldier in the
Capetown Hospital who, when a visiting lady asked if he would like her
to wash his face, replied, “Excuse me, miss, but I’ve already promised
fourteen ladies as they shall wash my face!”
The first appeal for nurses did not bring satisfactory applicants.
Kind, generous, and sympathetic women volunteered by the score, but
Miss Nightingale and her friends felt that they were dealing with a
crisis of urgency. There was no time to start ambulance classes and
train candidates. It was an imperative necessity that the nurses
should start without delay, and therefore they must have been already
trained for the work. In the emergency Miss Nightingale applied to both
Protestant and Roman Catholic institutions for volunteers. This caused
a good deal of adverse criticism. The “No Popery” cry was raised, and
zealous clerics inveighed against Miss Nightingale as a Puseyite who
was bent on perverting the British soldier to papacy. She certainly was
at the time more engaged with the bodily than with the spiritual needs
of the soldiers. Nurses were required, not religious instructors.
With some of the Protestant institutions a difficulty arose in
respect to the rule of strict obedience to Miss Nightingale as the
Superintendent appointed by the Government. These institutions were
unwilling that their members should be separated from home control.
Miss Nightingale and her advisers remained firm on this point. Strict
obedience was the pivot upon which the organisation would have to work,
if it was to be successful. The military nurse, like the military man,
must render obedience to her superior officer. The St. John’s House,
one of the most important of the Protestant sisterhood, stood out for a
day or two, but finally yielded the point.
The Roman Catholic bishop at once agreed to the regulations laid
down, and signed a paper agreeing that the sisters of mercy joining
the expedition should give entire obedience to Miss Nightingale, and
that they should not enter into religious discussion except with the
soldiers of their own faith. Mutual arrangement was made that the Roman
Catholic sisters should attend on the soldiers of their own faith, and
the Protestant sisters on those of their faith.
The position was later defined by Mr. Sidney Herbert to allay the
agitation which prevailed after the band had set forth. He said: “The
Roman Catholic bishop has voluntarily, and in writing, released the
benevolent persons who were previously under his control from all
subjection to himself. Englishmen may have the pleasure of feeling
that a number of kind-hearted British women, differing in faith, but
wishing to do practical good, are gone in one ship, as one corps, with
one aim, without any compromise of our national Protestantism....
Thirty-eight nurses on their way to Scutari are truer successors of the
Apostles shipwrecked at Melita than an equal number of cardinals. May
the war teach men many such lessons.”
The thirty-eight nurses selected to accompany Miss Nightingale as the
first contingent were made up of fourteen Church of England sisters,
taken from St. John’s House and Miss Sellon’s Home; ten Roman Catholic
sisters of mercy; three nurses selected by Lady Maria Forrester, who
had first formed a plan for sending nurses to Scutari; and eleven
selected from among miscellaneous applicants. Miss Nightingale’s
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge of Atherstone Hall, and a clergyman
and courier accompanied the expedition. It started from London on the
evening of October 21st, 1854.
Our heroine has ever been one of those who shunned the glare of
publicity, and it was characteristic of her that she set forth with her
devoted band under cover of night. Only a few relations and friends
stood on the platform of the terminus on that October evening when
Florence Nightingale bade farewell to home and kindred and started on
her great mission, the magnitude and difficulty of which she had yet
to discover. Quietly dressed in black, plain as a Quakeress, she was
yet a striking figure. As the last hand-shake was given and the last
farewells said her beautiful face retained its calm demeanour and was
illumined by a sweet smile. Ever thoughtful for others, her chief wish
was to spare her nearest and dearest, who had yielded a hesitating
consent to her undertaking, from anxiety. None knew better than herself
the perils which lay in those far-off Eastern hospitals.
Early next morning the “Angel Band,” as Kinglake so beautifully termed
Miss Nightingale and her nurses, landed at Boulogne, where a reception
awaited them which was in marked contrast to the quiet and almost
secret departure from London the night before. France was our ally;
her sons had fallen in the recent battle of the Alma beside our own,
and here was a band of English sisters, Protestant and Roman Catholic,
united in a common errand of mercy passing through her land to the
relief of the sick and wounded. It was a circumstance to arouse French
enthusiasm, and when Miss Nightingale and her nurses stepped ashore
they were met by a stalwart company of Boulogne fishwives, a merry and
picturesque band in snowy caps and gay petticoats, who seized trunks
and bags and almost fought for the privilege of carrying the luggage
of _les sœurs_ to the railway station. They would accept no pay, not
a _sou_, and they bustled along with their brawny arms swinging
to straps and handles, or with boxes hoisted on their broad backs,
chattering of “Pierre” or of “Jacques” out at the war, and praying the
_bon Dieu_ that if he suffered the sisters might tend him. The tears
streamed down many of the old and weather-beaten cheeks when they said
adieu. They claimed but one reward, a shake of the hand, and then as
the train steamed out of the station they waved their hands and cried
_Vive les sœurs_!
They proceeded to Paris and made a passing stay at the mother-house
of the sisters of St. Vincent de Paul, where Miss Nightingale was
no stranger. The good sisters were overwhelmed with joy to receive
her, and delighted to have the opportunity of entertaining the
company. Before leaving Paris Miss Nightingale called on her friend
Lady Canning, who, in a letter, October 24th, 1854, says: “To-day
we are appointed to go to St. Cloud, and I have had to rush about
after bonnets, etc. It is horrid to be given to frivolities just
now, when one is hearing all the horrors from the Crimea, and in the
expectation of more.... Miss Nightingale came to see me--very happy and
stout-hearted, and with an ample stock of nurses.” When, after a short
rest in Paris, Miss Nightingale and her band set out for Marseilles,
the port of embarkation, they met with the utmost attention as they
travelled. Porters declined to be tipped and hotel proprietors would
make no charges. It was an honour to serve _les bonnes sœurs_.
At Marseilles they embarked for Constantinople in the _Vectis_, a
steamer of the Peninsular line. Alas! the elements showed no more
favour to the “Angel Band” than they did to St. Paul in the same seas.
The passage was a terrible one. A hurricane blew straight against the
_Vectis_ in the Mediterranean, and for a time the ship was in danger.
The company reached Malta on October 31st, and after a brief stay
set sail for Scutari. Miss Nightingale arrived at the scene of her
labours on November 4th, the day before the battle of Inkerman. What
that victory meant in the tale of suffering and wounded men even the
hospital authorities then formed no adequate conjecture. Never surely
did a band of women arriving in an unknown land meet such a gigantic
task.
The sufferers already in hospital had heard of the coming of the
sisters, but the news seemed too good to be true, and when Miss
Nightingale went her first round of the wards, accompanied by members
of her devoted band, “Tommy’s” heart was full. One poor fellow burst
into tears as he cried, “I can’t help it, I can’t indeed, when I see
them. Only think of English women coming out here to nurse us! It seems
so homelike and comfortable.”