Some Famous Women

by Louise Creighton

The following October a terrible explosion occurred at the furnace of some ironworks, and eleven men were covered with streams of molten metal. In their agony they jumped into a neighbouring canal, and were with difficulty rescued and taken in cabs to the hospital. Burnt all over and frightfully disfigured, they were carried in and laid on the floor till a ward could be cleared for them. It was a terrible scene, even the doctors could hardly stay in the ward, but Sister Dora never ceased in her devoted care of the men. Cries came from most of them, “Sister, come and dress me.” “Do dress me,” “Oh, you don’t know how bad I am.” She could only answer, “Oh my poor men, I’ll dress you all, if you’ll give me time.” One poor man, seeing how distracted she was by the different cries for help, said, “Sister Dora, I want to be dressed very bad, but if there’s any wants you worse go and do them first.” He was in terrible pain and died during the night. Of the eleven only two recovered. Some lingered for as long as ten days, and during that time Sister Dora never went to bed, and hardly left the ward. One of those who survived described how she went from bed to bed talking, laughing, even joking with the men; telling them stories, doing everything she could to distract them from their pain, and pointing out the way to heaven to those who were to die. He spoke with delight of her visits to his bedside at night when he was recovering, saying, “It did you good only to look at her,” and ending with, “What we felt for her I couldn’t tell you; my tongue won’t say it.”

One result of this terrible accident was that the ward in which the burnt men had lain was so poisoned that it could not be used again, and it was decided to build a new hospital. In the meanwhile, a house was fitted up as a temporary hospital. It was a tiring life for Sister Dora, as the temporary hospital was small and not at all convenient, and many patients had to be nursed in their own homes. It was at this time that she first began to find it difficult to lift her patients, and after a while she was compelled to consult a doctor about her health. He discovered that she had a mortal malady. It was possible that an operation might do her some good, but it was by no means certain. She determined to go on as usual, and made him promise to tell no one of her illness. She worked harder than ever and would not give in. She drove about in her little pony carriage to visit her patients, and no one was allowed to know that anything was wrong with her. Then an outbreak of fever in the temporary hospital made it necessary to close it, and as the new hospital was not yet ready it was possible for Sister Dora to leave Walsall. She visited her relations and went to Paris and London to study improvements in surgical science. All the time her disease was growing worse, and still she told no one. Her wish was to die at Walsall amongst her own people, and as the hospital was not ready, a little house near to it was taken for her. People could not believe that she was dying. She was surrounded with all the care that love could give her, and often her visitors were surprised to see her, in spite of pain and weakness, still her old self, full of fun and jokes. Her interest in the new hospital was very keen, and she rejoiced that it was finished in time for her to know of its opening. She listened eagerly to all that was told her about it, and gave her advice about all the arrangements. Often she suffered terribly, and when at last she died, on Christmas eve, 1878, it was with relief that her friends heard that her pain was over. She was carried to her grave by some of the railway men for whom she had cared with so much devotion. The Bishop was there and great numbers of the clergy, and there came, too, hundreds of her patients and an immense crowd consisting of nearly all the people of the town.

The Statue at Walsall

When, later, it was discussed what memorial of her should be placed in Walsall some suggested a Convalescent Home, as what she herself would most have desired; but the working men of the town were quite clear that what they wanted was a statue of Sister Dora. One of them said that of course they could not forget her, but that they wanted her to be there, so that when strangers came and saw the statue and asked who it was, they might answer, “Who’s that? Why that’s our Sister Dora.” So her statue in her nurse’s dress, as she lived and worked amongst them, stands in the centre of Walsall to remind the people of her life of love. The workmen spoke of her as “the most saintly thing that was ever given us.”

XII
QUEEN VICTORIA

It is impossible in one short chapter to tell about all the things that made Queen Victoria’s reign famous, and I am only going to tell something about her own life and to try to show what kind of a woman she was. Her father was the Duke of Kent, son of King George III., and her mother was a German princess. The Princess Victoria was their only child, and she was born in 1819 in Kensington Palace. It was possible that the little princess might some day be Queen of England, but at her birth she had three uncles living, older than her father, who would all have a right to the throne before her. She was only a few months old when her father and grandfather died and her eldest uncle became king as George IV. Her mother, a German lady, was very lonely in England. Her chief adviser was her brother Leopold, then living in England; he made the Duchess of Kent feel how important her position was as mother of the child who might be queen some day. He said that she must be brought up in England; so the duchess consented to live on at Kensington Palace and devoted herself to the education of her child. In after years the Queen, writing about her childhood, said that her chief pleasure was visiting her uncle Leopold, who lived at Claremont, near Esher. She was brought up very simply and always slept in her mother’s bedroom. When she stayed at Claremont or by the seaside, where they often went, she did her lessons in her governess’s bedroom. She was not fond of learning, and did not know her letters till she was five. George IV. had quarrelled with her father, and did not like her mother, and took very little notice of them; but she went as a child to see him at Windsor, and remembered how he took her by the hand, saying, “Give me your little paw.” Next day he met her driving in the park and stopped his carriage and said, “Pop her in,” and she was very pleased to drive by his side in the carriage with its servants in scarlet liveries.

When she was thirteen her mother gave her a small red morocco book in which to write her diary, and from that day till a few days before her death, she used to write down every night the events of the day. As a little girl she wrote down the hours of her lesson, when she went out riding, or was taken to the theatre or to hear music, and when she washed Dash, her pet dog.

The princess’s governess was a German lady, Fräulein Lehzen, whom she adored, though she was greatly in awe of her; she spoke German before she learned English, but her mother took care that she should learn English well. When she was eight a clergyman, Mr. Davys, was appointed to direct her education. He chose a number of teachers for her, and himself taught her religion and history. Her life was strict and dull, and in after years she did not look back to her childhood as a happy time. George IV. died when she was six and was succeeded by his brother, William IV., who had no children, so that Princess Victoria was now heir to the throne. Her mother did not get on with William IV. and did not like her to go to court, and this made the King very angry, though he was always very kind to the little princess when she visited him privately. She was not allowed to go to his coronation, because the King and her mother could not agree as to the place she should take in the procession. This was a great disappointment and she wept bitterly—nothing could console her, not even her dolls.