CHAPTER XVIIISTRICKEN BY FEVERContinued Visitation of Hospitals—Sudden Illness—Conveyed to Sanatorium—Visit of Lord Raglan—Convalescence—Accepts Offer of Lord Ward’s Yacht—Returns to Scutari—Memorial to Fallen Heroes.Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.Longfellow.
Continued Visitation of Hospitals—Sudden Illness—Conveyed to Sanatorium—Visit of Lord Raglan—Convalescence—Accepts Offer of Lord Ward’s Yacht—Returns to Scutari—Memorial to Fallen Heroes.Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.Longfellow.
Continued Visitation of Hospitals—Sudden Illness—Conveyed to Sanatorium—Visit of Lord Raglan—Convalescence—Accepts Offer of Lord Ward’s Yacht—Returns to Scutari—Memorial to Fallen Heroes.
Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.Longfellow.
Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.Longfellow.
Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
Longfellow.
Nothingdaunted by the fatiguing journey to the camp hospitals at headquarters related in the last chapter, Miss Nightingale, although she was feeling indisposed, set out the next morning to visit the General Hospital at Balaclava and the Sanatorium. She was accompanied by the ubiquitous M. Soyer, who was carrying out his culinary campaign at the Crimean hospitals, and attended by her faithful boy Thomas.
After spending several hours inspecting the wards of the General Hospital, Miss Nightingale proceeded to the Sanatorium, a collection of huts perched on the Genoese heights nearly eight hundred feetabove the sea. She was escorted by Mr. Bracebridge, Dr. Sutherland, and a sergeant’s guard. The weather was intensely hot, as is usual in the Crimea during the month of May, and the journey, following on the fatigue of the previous day, proved a trying one. Half-way up the heights, Miss Nightingale stopped to visit a sick officer in one of the doctor’s huts, and afterwards proceeded to inspect the Sanatorium.
She returned to Balaclava, and next day went to install three nurses in the Sanatorium; and on her way up again visited the invalid officer in his lonely hut. During the succeeding days she continued her inspection of the hospitals in Balaclava, and also removed her quarters to theLondon, as theRobert Lowe, in which she sailed, was ordered home.
It was when on board theLondon, while she was transacting business with one of her nursing staff, that Miss Nightingale was suddenly seized with alarming illness. The doctors pronounced it to be the worst form of Crimean fever, and ordered that she should be immediately taken up to the Sanatorium. She was laid on a stretcher, and tenderly carried by sad-eyed soldiers through Balaclava and up the mountain side amid general consternation. Her own private nurse, Mrs. Roberts, attended her, a friend held a large white umbrella toprotect her face from the glaring sun, and poor Thomas, the page-boy, who had proudly called himself “Miss Nightingale’s man,” followed his mistress, crying piteously. So great was the lamenting crowd that it took an hour to get the precious burden up to the heights. A hut was selected near a small stream, the banks of which were gay with spring flowers, and there for the next few days Florence Nightingale lay in a most critical condition, assiduously nursed by Mrs. Roberts and attended by Drs. Henderson and Hadley.
It seemed strange to every one that Miss Nightingale, after passing unscathed through her hard labours at Scutari, when she had been in daily contact with cholera and fever, should have succumbed to disease at Balaclava, but the fatigues of the past days, undertaken during excessive heat, accounted largely for the seizure, and some of her friends thought also that she had caught infection when visiting the sick officer on her way up to the Sanatorium.
Alarmist reports quickly spread, and at Balaclava it was currently reported that Florence Nightingale was dying. The sad tidings were told at the Barrack Hospital at Scutari amidst the most pathetic scenes. The sick men turned their faces to the wall and cried like children. The news in due time reached London, and the leading articles inthe papers of the time show that the public regarded the possible death of our heroine as a great national calamity. Happily the suspense was brief, and following quickly on the mournful tidings came the glad news that the worst symptoms were passed, and that in all human probability the precious life would be spared.
Miss Nightingale, in a touching bit of autobiography, attributes her first step towards convalescence to the joy caused on receiving a bunch of wild-flowers.
During the time that Miss Nightingale lay in her hut on the Genoese heights, some very sharp skirmishes were taking place between the allied troops and the enemy, and it was reported that the Russians were likely to attack Balaclava by the Kamara side. Miss Nightingale’s hut being the nearest to that point, would, in the event of such a plan being carried out, have been the first to be attacked. Thomas, the page boy, constituted himself guard of his beloved mistress and was ready to die valiantly in her defence. It would, however, be an injustice to the Russian troops to imply that they would knowingly have harmed even a hair of Florence Nightingale’s head. Her person was sacred to friend and foe alike.
Lord Raglan was deeply concerned at Miss Nightingale’s illness, and as soon as he heard fromthe doctors in attendance that he might visit her, rode over from headquarters for the purpose. Mrs. Roberts, the nurse, thus related to M. Soyer the account of the Commander-in-Chief’s unexpectedcall:—
“It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when he came. Miss Nightingale was dozing, after a very restless night. We had a storm that day, and it was very wet. I was in my room sewing when two men on horseback, wrapped in large gutta-percha cloaks and dripping wet, knocked at the door. I went out, and one inquired in which hut Miss Nightingale resided.
“He spoke so loud that I said, ‘Hist! Hist! don’t make such a horrible noise as that, my man,’ at the same time making a sign with both hands for him to be quiet. He then repeated his question, but not in so loud a tone. I told him this was the hut.
“‘All right,’ said he, jumping from his horse, and he was walking straight in when I pushed him back, asking what he meant and whom he wanted.
“‘Miss Nightingale,’ said he.
“‘And pray who are you?’
“‘Oh, only a soldier,’ was the reply; ‘but I must see her—I have come a long way—my name is Raglan—she knows me very well.’
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE AS A GIRL.(From the drawing by her sister, Lady Verney.)[To face p. 208.
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE AS A GIRL.(From the drawing by her sister, Lady Verney.)[To face p. 208.
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE AS A GIRL.
(From the drawing by her sister, Lady Verney.)
[To face p. 208.
“Miss Nightingale overhearing him, called mein, saying, ‘Oh! Mrs. Roberts, it is Lord Raglan. Pray tell him I have a very bad fever, and it will be dangerous for him to come near me.’
“‘I have no fear of fever or anything else,’ said Lord Raglan.
“And before I had time to turn round, in came his lordship. He took up a stool, sat down at the foot of the bed, and kindly asked Miss Nightingale how she was, expressing his sorrow at her illness, and thanking and praising her for the good she had done for the troops. He wished her a speedy recovery, and hoped that she might be able to continue her charitable and invaluable exertions, so highly appreciated by every one, as well as by himself.
“He then bade Miss Nightingale good-bye, and went away. As he was going out, I said I wished ‘to apologize.’
“‘No! no! not at all, my dear lady,’ said Lord Raglan; ‘you did very right; for I perceive that Miss Nightingale has not yet received my letter, in which I announced my intention of paying her a visit to-day—having previously inquired of the doctor if she could be seen.’”
Miss Nightingale became convalescent about twelve days after her seizure, and the doctors were urgent that she should immediately sail for England. This our heroine steadfastly declined to do, feelingthat her mission was not accomplished, and that she could not desert her post. Although in a state of extreme weakness and exhaustion, she felt that time would accomplish her recovery, and she decided to return in the meantime to Scutari, with the intention of coming back to the Crimea to complete her work.
A berth was arranged for her in theJura, and Miss Nightingale was brought down from the Sanatorium upon a stretcher carried by eight soldiers and accompanied by Dr. Hadley, Mrs. Roberts (the nurse), several Sisters of Charity and other friends. When the procession reached theJura, tackle was attached to the four corners of the stretcher, and the invalid was thus swung on deck by means of pulleys. She was carefully carried to the chief cabin, and it was hoped that she would now accomplish the voyage in comfort. Unfortunately, a disagreeable smell was discovered to pervade theJura, caused by a number of horses which had recently been landed from it, and shortly after being brought aboard Miss Nightingale fainted. The page Thomas was dispatched to recall Dr. Hadley, who, when he arrived, ordered that the illustrious patient should at once be conveyed to another vessel.
Miss Nightingale was temporarily taken to theBaraguay a’Hilliers, until an order could be procured from the admiral for another vessel.
Meantime Lord Ward, afterwards Earl of Dudley and father of the present Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, who had been active in sending help to the sick and wounded, heard with great concern of the inconvenience, and indeed danger to life, which Miss Nightingale was suffering, and at once offered her the use of his yacht, theNew London, to take her to Scutari. Lord Ward further arranged that the yacht should be at her entire disposal, and no one should be on board except his medical man and those whom she chose to take with her. Miss Nightingale was pleased to accept Lord Ward’s offer, and she was accordingly conveyed to the yacht, and established in great ease and comfort. Besides her personal attendants Miss Nightingale was accompanied by Mr. Bracebridge and M. Soyer.
Before her departure Lord Raglan visited Miss Nightingale on board theNew London, but little did she think that in a few short weeks the brave commander would have passed to the great majority. He had shown himself most sympathetic to her mission to the East, and had received her letters in regard to reforms in the hospitals with attention, while in his dispatches to the Government he had paid the highest tribute to the value of her work amongst the sick soldiers. During the period of Miss Nightingale’s convalescence, he sent frequent inquiries after her health.
Meantime, Lord Raglan’s difficulties as Commander-in-Chief of the British forces were daily increasing. On June 18th, 1855, the allied armies were to make the general assault on Sebastopol. Lord Raglan had proposed to preface the assault by a two hours’ cannonade to silence the guns remounted by the enemy during the night, but Pélissier, the French commander, pressed for an immediate attack at daybreak, and Lord Raglan yielded rather than imperil the alliance. The result was disastrous, ending in the terrible assault and repulse of the British troops at the Redan. The Commander-in-Chief felt the failure deeply, and it was to announce this defeat that he wrote his last dispatch to the Government, June 26th. On the 28th he breathed his last, worn out and disheartened by the gigantic task with which he had been called to grapple.
Miss Nightingale, in her own weakened condition, was deeply affected by Lord Raglan’s death. He was a man of charming and benevolent disposition, and thoroughly straightforward in all his dealings. Wellington described him as “a man who wouldn’t tell a lie to save his life.” He had served under that great commander during half his career, and was proud to the last, when he had to contend with much adverse criticism, that he had enjoyed the confidence of Wellington.
Lord Raglan was blamed for not visiting the camps during the earlier stages of the Crimean war and ascertaining the condition of his soldiers, whereby much of the sickness and misery might have been obviated, but his biographers say that this charge, though not groundless, was exaggerated. Lord Raglan was a rough and ready soldier, who disliked ostentation, and in this way many of his visits to the camp passed almost unnoticed. The impromptu call which he made at Miss Nightingale’s hut, already related, was thoroughly characteristic of Lord Raglan’s methods.
Miss Nightingale returned to Scutari a little more than a month after she had left for the Crimea, and was received on landing by Lord William Paulet, Commandant, Dr. Cumming, Inspector-General, and Dr. Macgregor, Deputy-Inspector. Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, the Ambassador, offered her the use of the British Palace at Pera, but Miss Nightingale preferred to use the house of the chaplain, the Rev. Mr. Sabin, and there she made a good recovery under the care of solicitous friends.
Often in these days of returning strength she would stroll beneath the trees of the cemetery of Scutari, where so many of our brave men lay. It is situated on a promontory high above the sea, with a fine outlook over the Bosphorus. Flowers planted by loving hands were deckingthe graves of many of her friends who had passed away during the winter, and the grasses had begun to wave above the deep pits where the soldiers lay in a nameless grave. During these walks Miss Nightingale gathered a few flowers here, a bunch of grasses there, and pressed and dried them, to keep in loving memory of the brave dead. They eventually formed part of a collection of Crimean mementoes which she arranged after her return home to Lea Hurst.
This burying-ground was really a portion of the ancient cemetery of Scutari, the most sacred and celebrated in the Ottoman Empire. Travellers have described the weird effect of the dense masses of cypress-trees, which bend and wave over three miles of unnumbered tombs, increasing each year in extent. The Turks never disturb their dead, and regard a burying-ground with great veneration, hence the ancient and yet modern character of the Scutari cemetery, and the great extent of the graves over the wide solitude. So thick are the cypress-trees that even the Oriental sun does not penetrate their shade. Byron has described the sceneas—
The place of thousand tombsThat shine beneath, while dark aboveThe sad but living cypress gloomsAnd withers not, though branch and leafAre stamped by an eternal grief.
The place of thousand tombsThat shine beneath, while dark aboveThe sad but living cypress gloomsAnd withers not, though branch and leafAre stamped by an eternal grief.
The place of thousand tombsThat shine beneath, while dark aboveThe sad but living cypress gloomsAnd withers not, though branch and leafAre stamped by an eternal grief.
The place of thousand tombs
That shine beneath, while dark above
The sad but living cypress glooms
And withers not, though branch and leaf
Are stamped by an eternal grief.
According to a poetic legend, myriads of strange birds hover over the tombs, or flit noiselessly from the Black Sea to the fairer one of Marmora, when they turn and retrace their flight. These birds have never been known to stop or feed, and never heard to sing. They have a dark plumage, in unison with the sombre cypress-trees over which they incessantly flit. When there is a storm on the Bosphorus, they send up sharp cries of agony. The Turks believe that the weird birds are condemned souls who have lived an evil life in this world, and are not permitted to rest in a tomb, and so in a spirit of unrest they wander over the tombs of others. One of the most beautiful monuments in the vast cemetery is the one which marks the grave of Sultan Mahmoud’s favourite horse.
The Turkish Government gave a piece of ground adjacent to the sacred cemetery to serve as a burying-place for the British soldiers who fell in the Crimea. And it was at the instance of Miss Nightingale that a memorial was erected there to the fallen heroes. She started the scheme during her period of convalescence at Scutari, and it was completed after the conclusion of the war. Some four thousand British soldiers lie in the cemetery, and in the midst of the nameless graves rises a gleaming column of marble. The shaft issupported by four angels with drooping wings. On each side of the base is inscribed in four differentlanguages:—
“THIS MONUMENT WAS ERECTED BYQUEEN VICTORIAAND HER PEOPLE.”