Flo has been writing incessantly lately about her nurses' families, for whom the best seem getting very anxious, and she scarcely mentions anything else. We have seen and heard much in visiting them which is a great pleasure to us.
Before the Roebuck Committee, Dr. Andrew Smith, the head of the Army Medical Department in London, was asked, “What do you think was the result of Miss Nightingale's mission?” “I daresay,” he answered, apparently with some reluctance, “it was very advantageous”; and then, pulling himself together like a man and seeking to be just, he added: “There is no doubt about it; because females are able to discover many deficiencies that a man would not think of, and they will look at things that a man will have no idea of looking to.” A very true statement; and perhaps as much as could reasonably be expected from an official on the defensive. But I think we shall find in the next chapter that some of the things which Miss Nightingale saw and did were not unworthy of the more comprehensive sweep claimed by Dr. Smith for the male faculty of vision.
CHAPTER V
THE ADMINISTRATOR
I have no hesitation in saying that Miss Nightingale has exhibited greater power of organization, a greater familiarity with details, while at the same time taking a comprehensive view of the general bearing of the subject, than has marked the conduct of any one connected with the hospitals during the present war.—Sidney Herbert (speech at Willis's Rooms, Nov. 29, 1855).
Ostensibly, and by the strict letter of her original instructions, Miss Nightingale was only Superintendent of the Female Nursing establishment. In fact, and by force of circumstances, she became a Purveyor to the Hospitals, a Clothier to the British Army, and in many emergencies a Dea ex machina.
She became, first, Purveyor-Auxiliary to the hospitals at Scutari. My statements under this head might seem to be the inventions of a satirist if I did not disclaim credit for such ingenuity by adding that they are in every case extracted from official sources. Of the ignorance existing in high places of the true state of things at Scutari, the best illustration is the answer which the British Ambassador gave when he was asked by the Commissioner of the Times Fund what things were most needed in the hospitals. “Nothing is needed,” said Lord Stratford, and the only suggestion he could make to the Times was that it should devote its fund to building an English Church at Pera. Miss Nightingale thought that the service of God included the service of man, and Mr. Macdonald, the Times Commissioner, agreed with her. Between them, they established not a church, but a store. The Ambassador of course formed his conclusions from what he was told; and the Principal Medical Officer at Scutari “stated that he wanted nothing in the shape of stores or medical comforts at a time when his patients were destitute of the commonest necessaries. Assistance which had been discouraged as superfluous was eventually found essential for the lives of the patients.”[114]
“I am a kind of General Dealer,” wrote Miss Nightingale to Mr. Herbert (Jan. 4, 1855), “in socks, shirts, knives and forks, wooden spoons, tin baths, tables and forms, cabbage and carrots, operating tables, towels and soap, small tooth combs, precipitate for destroying lice, scissors, bedpans and stump pillows. I will send you a picture of my Caravanserai, into which beasts come in and out. Indeed the vermin might, if they had but 'unity of purpose,' carry off the four miles of beds on their backs, and march with them into the War Office, Horse Guards, S.W.”
The caravanserai was the large kitchen aforesaid (p. [173]). “From this room,” wrote one of the lady volunteers, “were distributed quantities of arrowroot, sago, rice puddings, jelly, beef-tea, and lemonade upon requisitions made by the surgeons. This caused great comings to and fro; numbers of orderlies were waiting at the door with requisitions. One of the nuns or a lady received them, and saw they were signed and countersigned before serving. We used, among ourselves, to call this kitchen the tower of Babel. In the middle of the day everything and everybody seemed to be there: boxes, parcels, bundles of sheets, shirts, and old linen and flannels, tubs of butter, sugar, bread, kettles, saucepans, heaps of books, and of all kinds of rubbish, besides the diets which were being dispensed; then the people, ladies, nuns, nurses, orderlies, Turks, Greeks, French and Italian servants, officers and others waiting to see Miss Nightingale; all passing to and fro, all intent upon their own business, and all speaking their own language.”[115]