CHAPTER XV.

THE TASKS OF PEACE.

Now, the people of England had been on tiptoe for some days with

eagerness, waiting to welcome the heroine of the Crimea back to her

native shores. They would give her such a reception as no one had ever

yet had in that land of hospitality and welcomings. She should have

bells and cannon and bonfires, processions and deputations and

addresses--she should have everything that anybody could think of.

When they found that their heroine had slipped quietly through their

fingers, as it were, and was back in her own peaceful home once more,

people were sadly disappointed. They must give up the cannon and the

bonfires; but at least they might have a glimpse of her! So hundreds of

people crowded the roads and lanes about Lea Hurst, waiting and

watching. An old lady living at the park gate told Mrs. Tooley: "I

remember the crowds as if it was yesterday. It took me all my time to

answer them. Folks came in carriages and on foot, and there was titled

people among them, and a lot of soldiers, some of them without arms and

legs, who had been nursed by Miss Florence in the hospital, and I

remember one man who had been shot through both eyes coming and asking

to see Miss Florence. But not ten out of the hundreds who came got a

glimpse of her. If they wanted help about their pensions, they were told

to put it down in writing, and Miss Florence's maid came with an answer.

Of course she was willing to help everybody, but it stood to reason she

could not receive them all; why, the park wouldn't have held all the

folks that came, and besides, the old Squire wouldn't have his daughter

made a staring stock of."[14]

After the first disappointment--which after all was perfectly

natural--all sensible people realized how weary Miss Nightingale must be

after her tremendous labors, and how much she must need rest. All who

knew her, too, knew that she never could abide public "demonstrations";

so they left her in peace, and began sending her things, to show their

gratitude in a different way. The first gift of this kind she had

received before she left the Crimea, from good Queen Victoria herself.

This was "the Nightingale Jewel," as it is called; "a ruby-red enamel

cross on a white field, encircled by a black band with the words:

'Blessed are the merciful.' The letters V. R.; surmounted by a crown in

diamonds, are impressed upon the centre of the cross. Green enamel

branches of palm, tipped with gold, form the framework of the shield,

while around their stems is a riband of blue enamel, with the single

word 'Crimea.' On the top are three brilliant stars of diamonds. On the

back is an inscription written by the Queen."

Another gift received on the scene of her labors was a magnificent

diamond bracelet sent her by the Sultan of Turkey.

I do not know of any more jewels; but two gifts that Miss Nightingale

prized highly were a fine case of cutlery sent her by the workmen of

Sheffield, each knife blade inscribed with the words "Presented to

Florence Nightingale, 1857," and the silver-bound oak case inlaid with a

representation of the Good Samaritan; and a beautiful pearl-inlaid

writing desk, presented by her friends and neighbors near Lea Hurst.

All these things were very touching; still more touching were the

letters that came from all over the country, thanking and blessing her

for all she had done. Truly it was a happy home coming.

Miss Nightingale knew that she was very, very weary; she realized that

she must have a long rest, but she little thought how long it must be.

She, and all her friends, thought that after a few months she would be

able to take up again the work she so loved, and become the active

leader in introducing the new methods of nursing into England. But the

months passed, and grew from few to many, and still her strength did not

return. The next year, indeed, when the dreadful Indian Mutiny broke

out, she wrote to her friend Lady Canning, wife of the Governor-General

of India, offering to come at twenty-four hours' notice "if there was

anything to do in her line of business"; but Lady Canning knew that she

was not equal to such a task.

Slowly, gradually, the truth came to Florence Nightingale: she was never

going to be strong or well again. Always delicate, the tremendous

labors of the Crimea had been too much for her. While the work went on,

the frail body answered the call of the powerful will, the undaunted

mind, the great heart; now that the task was finished, it sank down

broken and exhausted. Truly, she had given her life, as much as any

soldier who fought and died in the trenches or on the battlefield.

And what did she do when she finally came to realize this? Did she give

up, and say, "My work on earth is done?" Not she! There may have been

some dark hours, but the world has never heard of them. She never for an

instant thought of giving up her work; she simply changed the methods of

it. The poor tired body must stay in bed or on the sofa; very well! But

the mind was not tired at all; the will was not weakened; the heart had

not ceased to throb with love and compassion for the sick, the

sorrowful, the suffering; the question was to find the way in which they

could work with as little trouble as might be to their poor sick friend

the body.

The way was soon found. Whether at Lea Hurst or in London (for she now

spent a good deal of time in the great city, to be near the centre of

things), her sick room became one of the busiest places in all England.

Schemes for army reform, for hospital reform, for reform in everything

connected with the poor and the sick--all these must be brought to Miss

Nightingale. All the soldiers in the country must write to her whenever

they wanted anything, from a pension down to a wooden leg (to their

honor be it said, however, that though she was overwhelmed with begging

letters from all parts of the country, not a soldier ever asked her for

money). The Nightingale fund, now nearly fifty thousand pounds, was

administered under her advice and direction, and the first Training

School for Nurses organized and opened. The old incapable, ignorant

nurse vanished, and the modern nurse, educated, methodical, clear-eyed

and clear-headed, took her place quietly; one of the great changes of

modern times was effected, and the hand that directed it was the same

one that we have seen holding the lamp, or writing down the dying

soldier's last words, in the Barrack Hospital at Scutari.

That slender hand wrote books with all the rest of its work. In the sick

room as in the hospital, Miss Nightingale had no time to waste. Her

"Hospital Notes" may be read to-day with the keenest interest by all who

care to know more of that great story of the Crimean War; her "Notes on

Nursing" became the handbook of the Nursing Reform, and ought to be in

the hands of every nurse to-day as it was in 1860, when it was written.

Nor in the hands of nurses only; I wish every girl and every boy who

reads this story would try to find that slender, dingy volume in some

library, and "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest" its contents. They

would know a good deal more than they do now. Well might Miss

Nightingale write, in 1861: "I have passed the last four years between

four walls, only varied to other four walls once a year; and I believe

there is no prospect but of my health becoming ever worse and worse till

the hour of my release. But I have never ceased, during one waking hour

since my return to England five years ago, laboring for the welfare of

the army at home, as I did abroad, and no hour have I given to

friendship or amusement during that time, but all to work."

Drop a stone in the water and see how the circles spread, growing wider

and wider. After a while you cannot see them, but you know that the

motion you have started must go on and on till it whispers against the

pebbles on the farther shore. So it is with a good deed or an evil one;

we see its beginning; we cannot see what distant shore it may reach. So,

no one will ever know the full amount of good that this noble woman has

done. The Sanitary Commission of our own Civil War, the Red Cross which

to-day counts its workers by thousands in every part of the civilized

world, both owed their first impulse to the pebble dropped by Florence

Nightingale--even her own life, given freely to suffering humanity.

I have never seen, but I like to think of the quiet room in London,

where she lies to-day in the white beauty of her age. Nearly ninety

years have passed since the little girl-baby woke to life among the

blossoms of the City of Flowers; more than half a century has gone by

since the Lady with the Lamp passed like light along the corridors of

the Barrack Hospital; yet still Florence Nightingale lives and loves,

still her thoughts go out in tenderness and compassion toward all who

are "in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity."

Let us think of that quiet room as one of the holy places of the earth;

let us think of her, and take our leave of her, with loving and thankful

hearts.

THE END.

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FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: "By the Alma River," by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.]

[Footnote 2: "Charge of the Light Brigade," by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.]

[Footnote 3: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," p. 137.]

[Footnote 4: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," p. 126.]

[Footnote 5: "Santa Filomena," by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.]

[Footnote 6: Kinglake, "Invasion of the Crimea."]

[Footnote 7: "Hiawatha," by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.]

[Footnote 8: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," p. 154.]

[Footnote 9: Rachel was a famous French actress, but I cannot imagine

any real resemblance between her and Miss Nightingale.]

[Footnote 10: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," p. 220.]

[Footnote 11: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," p. 223.]

[Footnote 12: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," p. 229.]

[Footnote 13: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," pp. 231-32.]

[Footnote 14: Tooley, "Life of Florence Nightingale," p. 240.]

Transcriber's notes:

_Underscores_ show where _italic_ fonts were used in the original printed book.

=Equals signs= show where =bold= fonts were used in the original printed book.

Florence Nightingale, the Angel of the Crimea: A Story for Young People · 第 15 / 15 章