eminent victorians-第33章

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Nightingale。　Her　superhuman　equanimity　would；　at　the　moment　of

some　ghastly　operation；　nerve　the　victim　to　endure；　and　almost　to

hope。　Her　sympathy　would　assuage　the　pangs　of　dying　and　bring

back　to　those　still　living　something　of　the　forgotten　charm　of

life。　Over　and　over　again　her　untiring　efforts　rescued　those　whom

the　surgeons　had　abandoned　as　beyond　the　possibility　of　cure。　Her

mere　presence　brought　with　it　a　strange　influence。　A　passionate

idolatry　spread　among　the　men　they　kissed　her　shadow　as　it

passed。　They　did　more。　'Before　she　came；'　said　a　soldier；　'there

was　cussin'　and　swearin'　but　after　that　it　was　as　'oly　as　a

church。'　The　most　cherished　privilege　of　the　fighting　man　was

abandoned　for　the　sake　of　Miss　Nightingale。　In　those　'lowest

sinks　of　human　misery'；　as　she　herself　put　it；　she　never　heard

the　use　of　one　expression　'which　could　distress　a　gentlewoman'。



She　was　heroic；　and　these　were　the　humble　tributes　paid　by　those

of　grosser　mould　to　that　high　quality。　Certainly；　she　was　heroic。

Yet　her　heroism　was　not　of　that　simple　sort　so　dear　to　the

readers　of　novels　and　the　compilers　of　hagiologies　the　romantic

sentimental　heroism　with　which　mankind　loves　to　invest　its　chosen

darlings：　it　was　made　of　sterner　stuff。　To　the　wounded　soldier　on

his　couch　of　agony；　she　might　well　appear　in　the　guise　of　a

gracious　angel　of　mercy；　but　the　military　surgeons；　and　the

orderlies；　and　her　own　nurses；　and　the　'Purveyor'；　and　Dr。　Hall；

and；　even　Lord　Stratford　himself；　could　tell　a　different　story。

It　was　not　by　gentle　sweetness　and　womanly　self…abnegation　that

she　had　brought　order　out　of　chaos　in　the　Scutari　hospitals；

that；　from　her　own　resources；　she　had　clothed　the　British　Army；

that　she　had　spread　her　dominion　over　the　serried　and　reluctant

powers　of　the　official　world；　it　was　by　strict　method；　by　stern

discipline；　by　rigid　attention　to　detail；　by　ceaseless　labour；

and　by　the　fixed　determination　of　an　indomitable　will。



Beneath　her　cool　and　calm　demeanour　lurked　fierce　and　passionate

fires。　As　she　passed　through　the　wards　in　her　plain　dress；　so

quiet；　so　unassuming；　she　struck　the　casual　observer　simply　as

the　pattern　of　a　perfect　lady；　but　the　keener　eye　perceived

something　more　than　that　the　serenity　of　high　deliberation　in

the　scope　of　the　capacious　brow；　the　sign　of　power　in　the

dominating　curve　of　the　thin　nose；　and　the　traces　of　a　harsh　and

dangerous　tempersomething　peevish；　something　mocking；　and　yet

something　precisein　the　small　and　delicate　mouth。　There　was

humour　in　the　face；　but　the　curious　watcher　might　wonder　whether

it　was　humour　of　a　very　pleasant　kind；　might　ask　himself；　even　as

he　heard　the　laughter　and　marked　the　jokes　with　which　she　cheered

the　spirits　of　her　patients；　what　sort　of　sardonic　merriment　this

same　lady　might　not　give　vent　to；　in　the　privacy　of　her　chamber。

As　for　her　voice；　it　was　true　of　it；　even　more　than　of　her

countenance；　that　it　'had　that　in　it　one　must　fain　call　master'。

Those　clear　tones　were　in　no　need　of　emphasis：　'I　never　heard　her

raise　her　voice'；　said　one　of　her　companions。　'Only　when　she　had

spoken；　it　seemed　as　if　nothing　could　follow　but　obedience。'

Once；　when　she　had　given　some　direction；　a　doctor　ventured　to

remark　that　the　thing　could　not　be　done。　'But　it　must　be　done；'

said　Miss　Nightingale。　A　chance　bystander；　who　heard　the　words；

never　forgot　through　all　his　life　the　irresistible　authority　of

them。　And　they　were　spoken　quietly　very　quietly　indeed。



Late　at　night；　when　the　long　miles　of　beds　lay　wrapped　in

darkness；　Miss　Nightingale　would　sit　at　work　in　her　little　room；

over　her　correspondence。　It　was　one　of　the　most　formidable　of　all

her　duties。　There　were　hundreds　of　letters　to　be　written　to　the

friends　and　relations　of　soldiers；　there　was　the　enormous　mass　of

official　documents　to　be　dealt　with；　there　were　her　own　private

letters　to　be　answered；　and；　most　important　of　all；　there　was　the

composition　of　her　long　and　confidential　reports　to　Sidney

Herbert。　These　were　by　no　means　official　communications。　Her

soul；　pent　up　all　day　in　the　restraint　and　reserve　of　a　vast

responsibility；　now　at　last　poured　itself　out　in　these　letters

with　all　its　natural　vehemence；　like　a　swollen　torrent　through　an

open　sluice。　Here；　at　least；　she　did　not　mince　matters。　Here　she

painted　in　her　darkest　colours　the　hideous　scenes　which

surrounded　her；　here　she　tore　away　remorselessly　the　last　veils

still　shrouding　the　abominable　truth。　Then　she　would　fill　pages

with　recommendations　and　suggestions；　with　criticisms　of　the

minutest　details　of　organisation；　with　elaborate　calculations　of

contingencies；　with　exhaustive　analyses　and　statistical

statements　piled　up　in　breathless　eagerness　one　on　the　top　of　the

other。　And　then　her　pen；　in　the　virulence　of　its　volubility；

would　rush　on　to　the　discussion　of　individuals；　to　the

denunciation　of　an　incompetent　surgeon　or　the　ridicule　of　a　self…

sufficient　nurse。　Her　sarcasm　searched　the　ranks　of　the　officials

with　the　deadly　and　unsparing　precision　of　a　machine…gun。　Her

nicknames　were　terrible。　She　respected　no　one：　Lord　Stratford；

Lord　Raglan；　Lady　Stratford；　Dr。　Andrew　Smith；　Dr。　Hall；　the

Commissary…General；　the　Purveyorshe　fulminated　against　them

all。　The　intolerable　futility　of　mankind　obsessed　her　like　a

nightmare；　and　she　gnashed　her　teeth　against　it。　'I　do　well　to　be

angry；'　was　the　burden　of　her　cry。　'How　many　just　men　were　there

at　Scutari？　How　many　who　cared　at　all　for　the　sick；　or　had　done

anything　for　their　relief？　Were　there　ten？　Were　there　five？　Was

there　even　one？'　She　could　not　be　sure。



At　one　time；　during　several　weeks；　her　vituperations　descended

upon　the　head　of　Sidney　Herbert　himself。　He　had　misinterpreted

her　wishes；　he　had　traversed　her　positive　instructions；　and　it

was　not　until　he　had　admitted　his　error　and　apologised　in　abject

terms　that　he　was　allowed　again　into　favour。　While　this

misunderstanding　was　at　its　height；　an　aristocratic　young

gentleman　arrived　at　Scutari　with　a　recommendation　from　the

Minister。　He　had　come　out　from　England　filled　with　a　romantic

desire　to　render　homage　to　the　angelic　heroine　of　his　dreams。　He

had；　he　said；　cast　aside　his　life　of　ease　and　luxury；　he　would

devote　his　days　and　nights　to　the　service　of　that　gentle　lady；　he

would　perform　the　most　menial　offices；　he　would　'fag'　for　her；　he

would　be　her　footman　and　feel　requited　by　a　single　smile。　A

single　smile；　indeed；　he　had；　but　it　was　of　an　unexpected　kind。

Miss　Nightingale　at　first　refused　to　see　him；　and　then；　when　she

consented；　believing　that　he　was　an　emissary　sent　by　Sidney

Herbert　to　put　her　in　the　wrong　over　their　dispute；　she　took

notes　of　her　conversation　with　him；　and　insisted　on　his　signing

them　at　the　end　of　it。　The　young　gentleman　returned　to　England　by

the　next　ship。



This　quarrel　with　Sidney　Herbert　was；　however；　an　exceptional

incident。　Alike　by　him；　and　by　Lord　Panmure；　his　successor　at　the

War　Office；　she　was　firmly　supported；　and　the　fact　that　during

the　whole　of　her　stay　at　Scutari　she　had　the　Home　Government　at

her　back；　was　her　trump　card　in　her　dealings　with　the　hospital

authorities。　Nor　was　it　only　the　Government　that　was　behind　her：

public　opinion　in　England　early　recognised　the　high　importance　of

her　mission；　and　its　enthusiastic　appreciation　of　her　work　soon

reached　an　extraordinary　height。　The　Queen　herself　was　deeply

moved。　She　made　repeated　inquiries　as　to　the　welfare　of　Miss

Nightingale；　she　asked　to　see　her　accounts　of　the　wounded；　and

made　her　the　intermediary　between　the　throne　and　the　troops。　'Let

Mrs。　Herbert　know；'　she　wrote　to　the　War　Minister；　'that　I　wish

Miss　Nightingale　and　the　ladies　would　tell　these　poor　noble；

wounded；　and　sick　men　that　NO　ONE　takes　a　warmer　interest　or

feels　MORE　for　their　sufferings　or　admires　their　courage　and

heroism　MORE　than　their　Queen。　Day　and　night　she　thinks　of　her

beloved　troops。　So　does　the　Prince。　B