“That direction was one of great moment, and well calculated to govern the fate of a newly ventured experiment.
“Thus it was that, under the sanction of a government acceding to the counsels of one of its most alert and sagacious members, there went out angel women from England, resolved to confront that whole world of horror and misery that can be gathered into a military hospital from camp or battlefield; and their plea, when they asked to be trusted with this painful, this heart-rending mission, was simply the natural aptitude of their sex for ministering to those who lie prostrate from sickness and wounds. Using that tender word which likened the helplessness of the down-stricken soldier to the helplessness of infancy, they only said they would ‘nurse’ him; and accordingly, if regarded with literal strictness, their duty would simply be that of attendants in hospital wards—attendants obeying with strictness the orders of the medical officers.
“It was seen that the humble soldiers were likely to be the men most in want of care, and the ladies were instructed to abstain from attending upon any of the officers.”[8]
CHAPTER XII.
The tribute of Kinglake and Macdonald and the Chelsea Pensioners.
But before continuing the story of Miss Nightingale’s expedition, we must turn aside for a moment in Kinglake’s company to realize something of the devotion of another brave and unselfish Englishwoman who, without her “commanding genius,” yet trod the same path of sacrifice and compassion. The words “commanding genius” were spoken by Dean Stanley of Miss Nightingale, and it is of Dean Stanley’s sister Mary that a word must now be spoken. She had been the right hand of her father, the Bishop of Norwich, and, in serving the poor, had disclosed special gifts, made the more winning by her gentle, loving nature. Having had experience of travel, which was much less a thing of course than it is in these days, she was willing to escort a company of nurses chosen for work in the Levant, and at first this was all she expected to do. But there proved to be a difficulty about receiving them at Scutari, and she could not bring herself to leave them without guidance; so she quietly gave up all thought of returning to England while the war continued.
“Could she,” asks Kinglake, “see them in that strait disband, when she knew but too well that their services were bitterly needed for the shiploads and shiploads of stricken soldiery brought down day by day from the seat of war? Under stress of the question thus put by her own exacting conscience, or perhaps by the simpler commandment of her generous heart, she formed the heroic resolve which was destined to govern her life throughout the long, dismal period of which she then knew not the end. Instead of returning to England, and leaving on the shores of the Bosphorus her band of sisters and nurses, she steadfastly remained at their head, and along with them entered at once upon what may be soberly called an appalling task—the task of ‘nursing’ in hospitals not only overcrowded with sufferers, but painfully, grievously wanting in most of the conditions essential to all good hospital management.
“The sisters and salaried nurses,” says Kinglake, “who placed themselves under this guidance were in all forty-six; and Miss Stanley, with great spirit and energy, brought the aid of her whole reinforcement—at first to the naval hospital newly founded at Therapia under the auspices of our Embassy, and afterwards to another establishment—to that fated hospital at Kullali, in which, as we saw, at one time a fearful mortality raged.