The Life of Florence Nightingale Volume I Part 10

[61] Letter to Sir John McNeill, May 17, 1860.

Miss Nightingale's object, in her first expeditions to John Street, had been to discover and discuss the kind of literature affected by the more intelligent working-men. The conclusion at which she arrived was that "the most thinking and conscientious of the artizans have no religion at all."[62] She set to work, accordingly, to find a new religion for them.

In this undertaking she took much counsel with one of her aunts. This was "Aunt Mai," her father's sister, Mary Sh.o.r.e, married to Mr. Samuel Smith, her mother's brother. A large number of her letters on religious subjects was preserved by Miss Nightingale. They show spiritual insight, and a considerable talent in speculative thought. The postscript of Miss Nightingale's letter to her father, given above, contains one of the fundamental ideas in her scheme of theology--the idea of Perfect Goodness, willing that mankind shall create mankind by man's own experience. The same idea was suggested by Aunt Mai when she wrote to her niece: "The purpose of G.o.d is to accomplish the welfare of man, not as a gift from Him, but as to be attained for each individual and for the whole race by the right exercise of the capabilities of each."

[62] Letter to Sir John McNeill, May 17, 1860.

During 1851 and 1852 aunt and niece corresponded at great length on these high matters, and by the end of the latter year Miss Nightingale had her new religion ready for the criticism of her friends. "Many thanks," she wrote (Nov. 19) to her cousin Hilary, "for your letter of corrections and annotations, all of which I have adopted. I should much like to have a regular talk with you about the Novel. I have not the least idea whether I shall have to remodel the Novel and 'Religion'

entirely; for I am so sick of it that I lose all discrimination about the ensemble and the form." Her object is explained in a letter of about the same date to another friend:--

(_To R. Monckton Milnes._) I am going abroad soon. Before I go, I am thinking of asking you whether you would look over certain things which I have written for the working-men on the subject of belief in a G.o.d. All the moral and intellectual among them seem going over to atheism, or at least to a vague kind of theism. I have read them to one or two, and they have liked them. I should have liked to have asked you if you think them likely to be read by more; but you are perhaps not interested in the subject, or you have no time, which is fully taken up with other things. If you tell me this, it will be no surprise or disappointment.[63]

[63] _Life of Lord Houghton_, vol. i. p. 475.

Lord Houghton read the ma.n.u.script attentively, and did not forget it.

Several years later, when Miss Nightingale was ill, and thought likely to die, he wrote to her suggesting that if she had made no other arrangements for the preservation and possible publication of her essay, she might think of entrusting it to him. "I have often thought," he said (March 11, '61), "of asking you what you meant to do with the papers you have written on social and speculative subjects. They surely should not be destroyed; and yet I hardly know to whom you will entrust them, who would not misunderstand, misinterpret, and misuse them. If you were to leave them in my hands, they would be, at any rate, safe from irreverent handling or crude exposure, and could be used in any way more or less future that you might think fit." By that time, however, the work had been submitted to the judgment of other men of letters; and to that later period further reference to the subject had better be postponed.

IV

The formulating of a religion, whether for the tailors or others, is no short task, and Miss Nightingale's "Works" must have well filled her mind during otherwise unoccupied hours in 1852. But the "Works" were only bye-work. Her main concern was to continue her apprentices.h.i.+p in nursing. Some vexatious delays and difficulties were still to be encountered, but she faced them with a brighter confidence than before, and the last stage of the struggle wears an aspect more of comedy than of tragedy. She had successfully a.s.serted her independence once in going to Kaiserswerth. In an imaginary dialogue with her mother, she makes herself say, "Why, my dear, you don't suppose that with my 'talents' and my 'European reputation' and my 'beautiful letters,' and all that, I'm going to stay dangling about my mother's drawing-room all my life! I shall go and look out for work, to be sure. You must look upon me as your son. I should have cost you a great deal more if I had married or been a son. You must now consider me married or a son. You were willing to part with me to be married." In presenting the case in this light to her parents, Florence had now a valuable ally in her Aunt Mai. Something of a diplomatist, as well as of a philosopher, was within the powers of that excellent woman. Without any interference which could be resented, by insinuating a word here, suggesting a phrase there, and pouring oil upon troubled waters everywhere, Aunt Mai did a good deal to smooth the last stages in her niece's struggle for independence.

Like all good diplomatists, the aunt sought first for a basis of compromise. She was able to sympathize with both sides. She was wholly favourable to her niece's aspirations and claims. But as a mother herself, she could enter into the case of her brother and his wife. It was not that they were selfishly obstructive; it was that, finding so much interest and enjoyment themselves in their own way of life, they desired in all love that the daughter should not deprive herself of the same privileges. But could not a compromise be arranged? Let it be agreed that Florence should spend part of each year in pursuit of what the mother considered her daughter's fancies, and spend another part at home. This was the arrangement which was in fact now in force.

The compromise served well enough for a while, but Florence wanted something more; and here, again, Aunt Mai's diplomacy prepared the way.

With a good strategic eye, she saw that Mrs. Nightingale held the key of the position. Mr. Nightingale in his heart was at one with Florence. He admired her and believed in her; he was quite willing that she should go her own way, and was not reluctant to make her some independent allowance, such as would enable her to conduct a mission or an inst.i.tution. But, as he said to his sister, whenever he broached anything of the kind to his wife and elder daughter, he found them united against him. Mr. Nightingale was one of those amiable men who are inclined to take the line of least resistance. It was Mrs. Nightingale's opposition, therefore, that had to be overcome. "Your mother," reported the aunt, "would, I believe, be most willing that you undertake a mission like Mrs. Fry or Mrs. Chisholm,[64] but she thinks it necessary for your peace and well-being that there should be a Mr. Fry or Captain Chisholm to protect you, and in conscience she thinks it right to defend you from doing anything which _she thinks_ would be an impediment to the existence of Mr. F. or Captain C." A good many mothers, even in these days, will, I doubt not, be on Mrs. Nightingale's side. But Aunt Mai, having made her sister-in-law define the position, pressed the advantage in an ingenious way. Florence was already thirty-two; and a time comes soon after that age when even the most sanguine mother begins to despair. It was agreed, accordingly, that "at some future specified age"

Florence should be free to do the work of a Mrs. Fry or a Mrs. Chisholm without the protection of a Mr. F. or a Captain C. There was even some talk of obtaining a written agreement to that effect, specifying the age; but Aunt Mai thought better of such a plan, and contented herself with calling in another witness to the verbal understanding. This was the lady--Mrs. Bracebridge--who two years later was to accompany Miss Nightingale on a mission more renowned even than that of Mrs. Fry or Mrs. Chisholm. But from the point gained by Aunt Mai's diplomacy and Florence's own persistence, a logical consequence followed. Presently, at some future unspecified age, Florence was to be free to control some philanthropic inst.i.tution; but what would be the use of being free to do so, unless she were also trained and qualified?

[64] Caroline Jones (1808-77) married Captain Chisholm, 1830; opened orphan schools in Madras, 1832; befriended female emigrants to Australia, 1841-66. Miss Nightingale had correspondence with her in 1862.

V

Having lived and learnt among the Protestant Deaconesses in Germany, Miss Nightingale was next determined to do the like among the Catholic Sisters in France. She sought the good offices of Manning, whose acquaintance she had made in Rome five years before, and who had now lately been received into the Roman Communion. Manning put himself into communication with his friend, the Abbe Des Genettes, in Paris. The Abbe obtained leave from the Council of the Sisters of Charity for the English lady to study their inst.i.tutions. It had been explained to him that Miss Nightingale was also desirous of studying the hospitals in Paris. The Abbe accordingly selected a House belonging to the Sisters which would offer every advantage in this respect. Her cousin, Miss Hilary Bonham Carter, who was intent on the study of art and had been invited to stay with M. and Madame Mohl, was to accompany her to Paris; and Lady Augusta Bruce was also to be of the party. It was in the salon of Madame Mohl that Lady Augusta met her future husband, Dean Stanley.

Thus, then, it had been arranged. The necessary authorization from the Sisters had been obtained in September. The start was to be made in November. But as the time approached, Mrs. Nightingale drew back. She wrote of the plan, not as something agreed upon, but as a new proposition. "I am afraid," she said to Aunt Mai, "that Flo is thinking of some new expedition, perhaps to Paris. I cannot make up my mind to it." Florence was staying at a friend's house in London. Her father came in, and reported that her mother was greatly distressed. There was company coming to Embley, and could Florence have the heart to leave her mother? "Parthe would be in hysterics." Every one would be in despair.

Could she not delay? An aged kinswoman, moreover, was ill, as already related. Florence yielded, perhaps more to this last consideration than to the others, and the start was postponed. There was a lingering hope that the expedition to Paris might be abandoned, and a suggestion was made to that end. Why must Florence go to the Sisters, and Roman Catholic Sisters, too--abroad? Why should she not stay at home, and conduct some small inst.i.tution on her own account? There was a house available for such a purpose at Cromford Bridge, close to their own Lea Hurst, and Mr. Nightingale would provide the necessary funds. In this way the best might be made of both worlds--of theirs, and of hers.

Florence was touched, but remained of her own mind:--

(_To her sister._) _January_ 3. Oh, my dearest Pop, I wish I could tell you how I love you and thank you for your kind thoughts as received in your letter to-day. If you did but know how genial it is to me, when my dear people give me a hope of their blessing and that they would speed me on my way! as the kind thought of Cromford seems to say they are ready to do. I will write to Mama about Paris and Cromford. My Pop, whether at one or the other, my heart will be with thee. Now if these seem mere words, because bodily I shall be leaving you, have patience with me, my dearest. I hope that you and I shall live to prove a true love to each other. I cannot, during the year's round, go the way which (for my sake, I know) you have wished. There have been times when, for your dear sake, I have tried to stifle the thoughts which I feel ingrained in my nature.

But, if that may not be, I hope that something better shall be. If I ask your blessing on a part of my time for my absence, I hope to be all the happier with you for that absence when we are together.

Miss Nightingale refused Cromford Bridge House: it was most unsuitable for the purpose; the only more unsuitable place was the "Forest Lodge"

at Embley, which her sister Parthe had suggested. In the following year, Florence joined the Sisters of Charity in Paris. And thus, after many struggles and delays, was she launched upon her true work in the world.

CHAPTER X

FREEDOM. PARIS AND HARLEY STREET

(1853-October 1854)

Lo, as some venturer from his stars receiving Promise and presage of sublime emprise, Wears evermore the seal of his believing Deep in the dark of solitary eyes.

F. W. H. MYERS.

The inst.i.tution in which Florence Nightingale was to serve her apprentices.h.i.+p in Paris was the Maison de la Providence, belonging to the S[oe]urs de la Charite in the Rue Oudinot (No. 5), Faubourg St.

Germain. The Abbe Des Genettes described in a letter to Manning the attractions which it would offer to his protegee. The princ.i.p.al House, managed by twenty Sisters, received nearly two hundred poor orphans, and also conducted a _creche_. A hospital was attached to it, next door, for aged and sick women. Within ten minutes' walk Miss Nightingale would find two other hospitals, one a general hospital, the other a children's hospital. The English _demoiselle_ would conform, in accordance with her desire, to the rules of the House as a _postulante_, rendering all necessary service to the sick. The only restrictions were that she would not be able to enter the refectory or the dormitory of the Sisters. She would have to sleep and take her meals in her own room. But she would be free to visit the poor in company with the Sisters, to serve the sick under their direction in various hospitals and infirmaries, and to a.s.sist in the care of the orphans alike in cla.s.s and at play.

Such was the life in Paris to which Miss Nightingale was looking forward eagerly. She left London for Paris on February 3, 1853, with her cousin, Miss Bonham Carter, and they stayed with M. and Madame Mohl in the Rue du Bac. Before entering the Maison de la Providence, Miss Nightingale desired to visit and study other inst.i.tutions in Paris. She was armed with a comprehensive permit from the Administration Generale de l'a.s.sistance Publique to study in all the hospitals of the city. She availed herself indefatigably of this permission, spending her days in inspecting hospitals, infirmaries, and religious houses, and having the advantage of seeing the famous Paris surgeons at their work. Now, as at all times, she was a diligent collector and student of reports, returns, statistics, pamphlets. Among her papers of this date are elaborately tabulated a.n.a.lyses of hospital organization and nursing arrangements both in France and in Germany, and a circular of questions bearing on the same subjects which she seems to have addressed to the princ.i.p.al inst.i.tutions in the United Kingdom. Her evenings were spent in company with her host and hostess. There were _soirees dansantes_ in the Rue du Bac. She went once or twice with Madame Mohl to b.a.l.l.s elsewhere, and also to the opera. She met many English visitors and distinguished Parisians. Having completed her general inquiries into the Paris hospitals, she presented herself to the Reverend Mother of the Maison de la Providence, and had arranged a day for her admission, when she was suddenly recalled to England by the illness of her grandmother, who died at the age of ninety-five. "Great has been the occasion for Flo's usefulness," wrote Mr. Nightingale to his wife. And "I shall never be thankful enough," wrote Florence herself to her cousin in Paris, "that I came. I was able to make her be moved and changed, and to do other little things which perhaps smoothed the awful pa.s.sage, and which perhaps would not have been done as well without me." A family event of a different kind interested Miss Nightingale at this time. Her cousin Blanche Sh.o.r.e Smith had become engaged to Arthur Hugh Clough. Miss Nightingale greatly liked him. As a long engagement seemed likely, Miss Nightingale interested herself in the future of the young couple; discussing the proper limits of parental allowances in such matters; drawing up elaborately detailed estimates of household expenditure, not forgetting to include future charges for a young family, as by the statistics of the average birth-rate they might be calculated.

Statistics were already almost a pa.s.sion with her.

II

Negotiations were now on foot for Miss Nightingale to take charge of a benevolent inst.i.tution in London, and Madame Mohl advised her to keep in their places the great ladies who were concerned in it. Neither now, nor at any time, was she much in love with committees, but not every word in the following account of the negotiations need be taken very seriously:--

(_To Madame Mohl._) LEA HURST, _April_ 8. In all that you say I cordially agree, and if you knew what the "fas.h.i.+onable a.s.ses" have been doing, their "offs" and their "ons," poor fools! you would say so ten times more. I shall be truly grateful if you will write to Pop--my people know as much of the affair now as I do--which is not much. You see the F.A.S. (or A.F.S., which will stand for "ancient fathers" and be more respectful, as they are all Puseyites), the F.A.S. want me to come up to London now and look at them, and if we suit to come very soon into the Sanatorium, which, I am afraid, will preclude my coming back to Paris, especially if you are coming away soon, for going there without you would unveil all my iniquities, as the F.A.S. are quite as much afraid of the R.C.'s as my people are. It is no use telling you the history of the negotiations, which are enough to make a comedy in 50 acts. They may be summed up as I once heard an Irish shoeless boy translate Virgil: _Obstupui_, "I was althegither bothered"--_steteruntque comae_, "and my hair stood up like the bristles of a pig"--_vox faucibus haesit_, "and divil a word could I say." Well, divil a bit of a word can I say except that you are very good, dear friend, to take so much interest, and that I shall be truly glad if you will write to Pop, ... _dans le sens du muscle_.

All your advice, which I sent to Mrs. Bracebridge, I give my profoundest adhesion to--I would gladly point the finger of scorn in the liveliest manner at the F.A.S. and ride them roughshod round Grosvenor Sq. I will even do my very best--but I am afraid it is not in me to do it as I should wish. It would be only a poor feint--a mean Caricature. But I will practise and you shall see me.

My people are now at 30 Old Burlington Street, where I shall be in another week. Please write to them there, and if you can do a little quacking for me to them, the same will be thankfully received, in order that I may come in, when I arrive, not with my tail between my legs, but gracefully curved round me, in the old way in which Perugino's Devil wears it, in folds round the waist.

I am afraid I _must_ live at the place. If I don't, it will be a half and half measure which will satisfy no one. However, I shall take care to be perfectly free to clear off, without its being considered a failure, at my own time. I can give you no particulars, dearest friend, because I don't know any. I can only say that, unless I am left a free agent and am to organize the thing myself and not they, I will have nothing to do with it. But as the thing is yet to be organized, I cannot lay a plan either before you or my people. And that rather perplexes them, as they want to make conditions that I shan't do this or that. If you would "well present" my plans, as you say, to them, it would be an inestimable benefit both to them and to me.... Hillie will tell you all I know--that it is a Sanatorium for sick governesses managed by a Committee of fine ladies. But there are no surgeon-students nor improper patients there at all, which is, of course, a great recommendation in the eyes of the Proper. The Patients, or rather the Impatients, for I know what it is to nurse sick ladies, are all pay patients, poor friendless folk in London. I am to have the choosing of the house, the appointment of the Chaplain and the management of the funds, as the F.A.S. are _at present_ minded. But Isaiah himself could not prophesy how they will be minded at 8 o'clock this evening.

What specially annoyed Miss Nightingale was that some of the fas.h.i.+onable ladies in the course of gossip had begun to wonder whether her appointment would have the approval of her family. Some officious friend had suggested that "it would be cruel to take her away from her home."

This difficulty was disposed of by Miss Nightingale's a.s.surance that the appointment would be submitted to the approval of her mother and father.

Her father now agreed to make her an independent allowance, paid quarterly in advance. It was on a scale sufficiently liberal to enable her to offer her services to the Inst.i.tution entirely gratuitously. She also agreed to pay all the charges (board and lodging included) of the matron (Mrs. Clarke), whom she was to bring with her. Another difficulty was then raised. The superintendent of a nursing-home ought to be present when the doctors went their rounds and when operations were performed. But would it be seemly for a gentlewoman to do this? Miss Nightingale insisted, and an agreement was arrived at in April. She was to enter upon her duties as superintendent as soon as new premises had been secured, and meanwhile she was free to resume her studies in Paris.

III

She returned to Paris on May 30, and after a week spent with M. and Madame Mohl, during which she again inspected various hospitals, she entered the Maison de la Providence in the Rue Oudinot on June 8. From Paris she kept up correspondence with regard to the new premises for the inst.i.tution in London. "The indispensable conditions of a suitable house are," she wrote to Lady Canning (June 5), "_first_, that the nurse should never be obliged to quit her floor, except for her own dinner and supper, and her patients' dinner and supper (and even the latter might be avoided by the windla.s.s we have talked about). Without a system of this kind, the nurse is converted into a pair of legs. _Secondly_, That the bells of the patients should all ring in the pa.s.sage outside the nurse's own door _on that story_, and should have a valve which flies open when its bell rings, and _remains_ open in order that the nurse may see who has rung." The letter continues for some pages to describe other requirements--about a hot-water supply and the like; points which are now in the A B C of hospitals or nursing-homes, but which then were novel counsels of perfection. The idea of a lift, in particular, was new; inquiries were made by the ladies in various parts of the country, and there were many hitches before a suitable apparatus was installed.

The correspondence is significant of the attention to practical detail which characterized all Miss Nightingale's work. Meanwhile her work with the Sisters of Charity among the poor came to a tiresome pause. The nurse had herself to be nursed. The nature of the calamity is described in a letter to Madame Mohl, who was paying visits in England at the time:--

BACK DRAWING-ROOM AT MADAME MOHL'S, RUE DU BAC 120, _June_ 28.

MY DEAREST FRIENT--Do you see where I am? Here's a "go"! Has M. Mohl told you? Here am I in bed in your back drawing-room. Poor M. Mohl appears to bear it with wonderful equanimity and recueillement, like his danseuse. Not so I. It is the most impertinent, the most surprising, the most inopportune thing I have ever done--me established in a lady's house in her absence, to be ill. If M. Mohl had any sins, I should think I was the avenging Phooka appointed to castigate him--as he has none, I am obliged to arrest myself at the other supposition that it is for my own. It was not my fault though really. Here is how the things have happened....

I have had the measles at the S[oe]urs. And, of all my adventures, of which I have had many and queer, as will be (never) recorded in the Book of my Wanderings, the dirtiest and the queerest I have ever had has been a measles in the cell of a S[oe]ur de la Charite.

They were very kind to me--and dear M. Mohl wrote to me almost every day, and sent me tea (which, however, they would not let me have), and he lastly, in his paternity, would have me back (where I came yesterday), and established me in the back drawing-room, to my infinite horror, and now I am getting better very fast, and mean to be out again in a day or two. I had got rid of the eruption and all that before I came. M. Mohl is _so_ kind and comes to see me and talk, which I suppose is very improper, but I can't help it, and he has been like a father to me and never was _such_ a father! I really am so ashamed of all his kindness, and the trouble I give them, that my brazen old face blushes crimson, and I a.s.sure you this paper ought to be red. Julie [the servant] is very kind to me. But I hope not to be long on their hands. As to my calamity itself, it is like the Mariage de Mademoiselle: who could have foreseen it? It really was not my fault. There was no measles at any of my posts, and I had had them not eighteen months ago, so that, erect in the consciousness of that dignity, I should not have kept out of their way, if I had seen them.

The Dr. would not believe I could have had them before. Well, I'm so ashamed of myself that I shall lock myself up for the rest of my life, and never go nowhere no more. For you see, it's evident that Providence, who was always in my way, and who, as the Superieure said, is _tres admirable_ (meaning wonderful) in having done this, does not mean me to come to Paris nor to the S[oe]urs, having twice made me ill when I was doing so--and given you all this trouble.

For me to come to Paris to have the measles a second time, is like going to the Grand Desert to die of getting one's feet wet, or anything most unexpected.... Please write to M. Mohl, and comfort him for his disaster. I am so repentant that I can say nothing--which, the Catholics tell me, is the "marque" of a true "humiliation." Thank you a thousand times for all your kindness. I come to England next week. F. N.

M. Mohl required no comfort. Miss Nightingale's father wrote to thank him for his kindness to her. The kindness, he gallantly replied, was on her side in giving him the advantage of her society and conversation.

"Her gentle manner," he wrote (July 25), "covers such a depth and strength of mind and thought, that I am afraid of nothing for her, but that her health should fail her."

IV