CHAPTER XV.The busy nursing hive—M. Soyer and his memories—Miss Nightingale’s complete triumph over prejudice—The memories of Sister Aloysius.
The busy nursing hive—M. Soyer and his memories—Miss Nightingale’s complete triumph over prejudice—The memories of Sister Aloysius.
Meanwhile Miss Stanley’s letters give us a very interesting informal glimpse of the work that was going on and of Miss Nightingale herself. Here is one in which she describes her visit to her in the hospital at Scutari:—
“We passed down two or three of these immense corridors, asking our way as we went. At last we came to the guard-room, another corridor, then through a door into a large, busy kitchen, where stood Mrs. Margaret Williams, who seemed much pleased to see me: then a heavy curtain was raised; I went through a door, and there sat dear Flo writing on a small unpainted deal table. I never saw her lookingbetter. She had on her black merino, trimmed with black velvet, clean linen collar and cuffs, apron, white cap with a black handkerchief tied over it; and there was Mrs. Bracebridge, looking so nice, too. I was quite satisfied with my welcome. It was settled at once that I was to sleep here, especially as, being post day, Flo could not attend to me till the afternoon.“The sofa is covered with newspapers just come in by the post. I have been sitting for an hour here, having some coffee, and writing, Mrs. Clarke coming in to see what I have wanted, in spite of what I could say.“The work this morning was the sending off General Adams’s remains, and the arrangements consequent upon it.“A stream of people every minute.“‘Please, ma’am, have you any black-edged paper?’“‘Please, what can I give which would keep on his stomach; is there any arrowroot to-day for him?’“‘No; the tubs of arrowroot must be for the worst cases; we cannot spare him any, noris there any jelly to-day; try him with some eggs, etc.’“‘Please, Mr. Gordon wishes to see Miss Nightingale about the orders she gave him.’“Mr. Sabine comes in for something else.“Mr. Bracebridge in and out about General Adams, and orders of various kinds.”
“We passed down two or three of these immense corridors, asking our way as we went. At last we came to the guard-room, another corridor, then through a door into a large, busy kitchen, where stood Mrs. Margaret Williams, who seemed much pleased to see me: then a heavy curtain was raised; I went through a door, and there sat dear Flo writing on a small unpainted deal table. I never saw her lookingbetter. She had on her black merino, trimmed with black velvet, clean linen collar and cuffs, apron, white cap with a black handkerchief tied over it; and there was Mrs. Bracebridge, looking so nice, too. I was quite satisfied with my welcome. It was settled at once that I was to sleep here, especially as, being post day, Flo could not attend to me till the afternoon.
“The sofa is covered with newspapers just come in by the post. I have been sitting for an hour here, having some coffee, and writing, Mrs. Clarke coming in to see what I have wanted, in spite of what I could say.
“The work this morning was the sending off General Adams’s remains, and the arrangements consequent upon it.
“A stream of people every minute.
“‘Please, ma’am, have you any black-edged paper?’
“‘Please, what can I give which would keep on his stomach; is there any arrowroot to-day for him?’
“‘No; the tubs of arrowroot must be for the worst cases; we cannot spare him any, noris there any jelly to-day; try him with some eggs, etc.’
“‘Please, Mr. Gordon wishes to see Miss Nightingale about the orders she gave him.’
“Mr. Sabine comes in for something else.
“Mr. Bracebridge in and out about General Adams, and orders of various kinds.”
Such was the busy life of which Miss Nightingale was the queen, though, unlike the queen-bee of the ordinary honey-hive, this queen of nurses was the hardest-worked and most severely strained worker in the whole toiling community.
It was early in the spring of 1855 that in the feeding department, which she rightly considered of great importance to her invalids, she received unexpected help.
This came from M. Soyer, who may be remembered by more than one old Londoner as at one timechefof the New Reform Club, where his biography, which contains some interesting illustrations, still adorns the library. M. Soyer begged to be allowed the command ofthe hospital kitchen at Scutari. He was an expert and an enthusiast, and very amusing.
Also what he offered was of no slight importance and unselfishness. In February, 1855, he wrote as follows to theTimes:—
“Sir,—After carefully perusing the letter of your correspondent, dated Scutari, in your impression of Wednesday last, I perceive that, although the kitchen under the superintendence of Miss Nightingale affords so much relief, the system of management at the large one at the Barrack Hospital is far from being perfect. I propose offering my services gratuitously, and proceeding direct to Scutari at my own personal expense, to regulate that important department, if the Government will honour me with their confidence, and grant me the full power of acting according to my knowledge and experience in such matters.—I have the honour to remain, sir, your obedient servant,“A. Soyer.”
“Sir,—After carefully perusing the letter of your correspondent, dated Scutari, in your impression of Wednesday last, I perceive that, although the kitchen under the superintendence of Miss Nightingale affords so much relief, the system of management at the large one at the Barrack Hospital is far from being perfect. I propose offering my services gratuitously, and proceeding direct to Scutari at my own personal expense, to regulate that important department, if the Government will honour me with their confidence, and grant me the full power of acting according to my knowledge and experience in such matters.—I have the honour to remain, sir, your obedient servant,
“A. Soyer.”
His proposal was accepted, and on his arrival at Scutari he was welcomed by Miss Nightingale in what he names, after his rather florid manner, “asanctuary of benevolence.” There he presented his letters and parcels from the Duchess of Sutherland and Mr. Stafford and others, the Duchess especially commending him to the Lady-in-Chief as likely to be of service in the cooking department. He was found to be a most valuable ally, and his letters and writings, since published, are full of interest. He wrote home at once, saying: “I must especially express my gratitude to Miss Nightingale, who from her extraordinary intelligence and the good organization of her kitchen procured me every material for making a commencement, and thus saved me at least one week’s sheer loss of time, as my model kitchen did not arrive till Saturday last.”
This is interesting, because it shows yet once more Miss Nightingale’s thoroughness and foresight and attention to detail—the more valuable in one whose outlook at the same time touched so wide a skyline, and was so large in its noble care for a far-off future and a world of many nations, never bounded by her own small island or her own church pew.
Soyer’s description of her is worth giving in full, and later we shall, through his eyes, have a vision of her as she rode to Balaclava.
“Her visage as regards expression is very remarkable, and one can almost anticipate by her countenance what she is about to say: alternately, with matters of the most grave importance, a gentle smile passes radiantly over her countenance, thus proving her evenness of temper; at other times, when wit or a pleasantry prevails, the heroine is lost in the happy, good-natured smile which pervades her face, and you recognize only the charming woman. Her dress is generally of a greyish or black tint; she wears a simple white cap, and often a rough apron. In a word, her whole appearance is religiously simple and unsophisticated. In conversation no member of the fair sex can be more amiable and gentle than Miss Nightingale. Removed from her arduous and cavalier-like duties, which require the nerve of a Hercules—and she possesses it when required—she is Rachel on the stage in both tragedy and comedy.”
“Her visage as regards expression is very remarkable, and one can almost anticipate by her countenance what she is about to say: alternately, with matters of the most grave importance, a gentle smile passes radiantly over her countenance, thus proving her evenness of temper; at other times, when wit or a pleasantry prevails, the heroine is lost in the happy, good-natured smile which pervades her face, and you recognize only the charming woman. Her dress is generally of a greyish or black tint; she wears a simple white cap, and often a rough apron. In a word, her whole appearance is religiously simple and unsophisticated. In conversation no member of the fair sex can be more amiable and gentle than Miss Nightingale. Removed from her arduous and cavalier-like duties, which require the nerve of a Hercules—and she possesses it when required—she is Rachel on the stage in both tragedy and comedy.”
Soyer’s help and loyalty proved invaluable all through the campaign. His volume of memories adds a vivid bit of colour here and there to these pages. His own life had been romantic, and he saw everything from the romantic point of view.
We read and know that although Sidney Herbert’s letter to Dr. Menzies, the principal medical officer at Scutari, asked that all regard should be paid to every wish of the Lady-in-Chief, and that was in itself a great means of power, the greatest power of all lay in her own personality and its compelling magnetism, which drew others to obedience. The attractive force of a strong, clear, comprehensive mind, and still more of a soul on fire with high purpose and deep compassion, which never wasted themselves in words, became tenfold the more powerful for the restraint and self-discipline which held all boisterous expression of them in check—her word, her very glance,
“Winning its way with extreme gentlenessThrough all the outworks of suspicious pride.”
“Winning its way with extreme gentlenessThrough all the outworks of suspicious pride.”
“Winning its way with extreme gentlenessThrough all the outworks of suspicious pride.”
“Winning its way with extreme gentleness
Through all the outworks of suspicious pride.”
Her strength was to be tried to the uttermost;for scarcely had her work in the hospital begun when cholera came stalking over the threshold. Day and night among the dying and the dead she and her nurses toiled with fearless devotion, each one carrying her life in her hand, but seldom, indeed, even thinking of that in the heroic struggle to save as many other lives as possible.
Miss Nightingale long afterwards, when talking of services of a far easier kind, once said to a professional friend that no one was fit to be a nurse who did not really enjoy precisely those duties of a sick-room which the ordinary uneducated woman counts revolting; and if she was, at this time, now and then impatient with stupidity and incompetence and carelessness, that is not wonderful in one whose effort was always at high level, and for whom every detail was of vivid interest, because she realized that often on exactitude in details hung the balance between life and death.
On their first arrival she and her nurses may, no doubt, have had to bear cold-shouldering and jealousy; but in the long agony of the choleravisitation they were welcomed as veritable angels of light. It would be easy to be sensational in describing the scenes amid which they moved, for before long the hospital was filled, day and night, with two long processions: on one side came in those who carried the sick men in on their stretchers, and on the other side those who carried out the dead. The orderlies could not have been trusted to do the nursing that was required; the “stuping”—a professional method of wholesale hot fomentations and rubbings to release the iron rigidity of the cholera patient’s body—was best done by skilled and gentle hands, and even insuchhands, so bad were the surrounding conditions—the crowding, the bad drainage, the impure water—that, despite the utmost devotion, only a small proportion of lives could be saved.
It was especially at this time that the feeling towards the Lady-in-Chief deepened into a trust that was almost worship. Watchful, resourceful, unconquered, with a mind that, missing no detail, yet took account of the widest issues and the farthest ends, she was yet full of divinetenderness for each sufferer whom with her own hands she tended; and, although she did not nurse the officers—she left that to others—in her devotion to Tommy Atkins she had been known to be on her feet, as already has been said, for twenty hours on end; and, whether she was kneeling or standing, stooping or lifting, always an ideal nurse.
The graves round the hospitals were not dug deep enough, and the air became even fouler than before. To the inroads of cholera the suffering of Sebastopol patients added a new form of death. Sister Aloysius writes of these men who came in by scores and hundreds from the trenches, and whom this Sister, greatly valued by the Lady-in-Chief, helped to nurse both at Scutari and at Balaclava:—
“I must say something of my poor frost-bitten patients. The men who came from the ‘front,’ as they called it, had only thin linen suits, no other clothing to keep out the Crimean frost of 1854-5. When they were carried in on the stretchers which conveyed so many to their lastresting-place, their clothes had to be cut off. In most cases the flesh and clothes were frozen together; and, as for the feet, the boots had to be cut off bit by bit, the flesh coming off with them; many pieces of the flesh I have seen remain in the boot.“We have just received some hundreds of poor creatures, worn out with sufferings beyond any you could imagine, in the Crimea, where the cold is so intense that a soldier described to me the Russians and the Allies in a sudden skirmish, and neither party able to draw a trigger! So fancy what the poor soldiers must endure in the ‘trenches.’“It was a comfort to think that these brave men had some care, all that we could procure for them. For at this time the food was very bad—goat’s flesh, and sometimes what they called mutton, but black, blue, and green. Yet who could complain of anything after the sufferings I have faintly described—borne, too, with such patience: not a murmur!... One day, after a batch had arrived from the Crimea, and I had gone my rounds through them, one of myorderlies told me that a man wanted to speak one word to me.“When I had a moment I went to him. ‘Tell me at once what you want; I have worse cases to see after’—he did not happen to be very bad. ‘All I want to know, ma’am, is, are you one of our own Sisters of Mercy from Ireland?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘your very own.’ ‘God be praised for that!’“Another poor fellow said to me one day, ‘Do they give you anything good out here?’ ‘Oh yes,’ I said; ‘why do you ask me?’ ‘Because, ma’am, you gave me a piece of chicken for my dinner, and I kept some of it for you.’ He pulled it out from under his head and offered it to me. I declined the favour with thanks. I never could say enough of those kind-hearted soldiers and their consideration for us in the midst of their sufferings.”
“I must say something of my poor frost-bitten patients. The men who came from the ‘front,’ as they called it, had only thin linen suits, no other clothing to keep out the Crimean frost of 1854-5. When they were carried in on the stretchers which conveyed so many to their lastresting-place, their clothes had to be cut off. In most cases the flesh and clothes were frozen together; and, as for the feet, the boots had to be cut off bit by bit, the flesh coming off with them; many pieces of the flesh I have seen remain in the boot.
“We have just received some hundreds of poor creatures, worn out with sufferings beyond any you could imagine, in the Crimea, where the cold is so intense that a soldier described to me the Russians and the Allies in a sudden skirmish, and neither party able to draw a trigger! So fancy what the poor soldiers must endure in the ‘trenches.’
“It was a comfort to think that these brave men had some care, all that we could procure for them. For at this time the food was very bad—goat’s flesh, and sometimes what they called mutton, but black, blue, and green. Yet who could complain of anything after the sufferings I have faintly described—borne, too, with such patience: not a murmur!... One day, after a batch had arrived from the Crimea, and I had gone my rounds through them, one of myorderlies told me that a man wanted to speak one word to me.
“When I had a moment I went to him. ‘Tell me at once what you want; I have worse cases to see after’—he did not happen to be very bad. ‘All I want to know, ma’am, is, are you one of our own Sisters of Mercy from Ireland?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘your very own.’ ‘God be praised for that!’
“Another poor fellow said to me one day, ‘Do they give you anything good out here?’ ‘Oh yes,’ I said; ‘why do you ask me?’ ‘Because, ma’am, you gave me a piece of chicken for my dinner, and I kept some of it for you.’ He pulled it out from under his head and offered it to me. I declined the favour with thanks. I never could say enough of those kind-hearted soldiers and their consideration for us in the midst of their sufferings.”