“THE ANGEL OF THE CRIMEA.”
By John W. Kirton
BY JOHN W. KIRTON, L.L. D. Few stories are more beautiful and thrilling than that of Florence Nightingale, and none better illustrate the spirit of disinterested and voluntary self-sacrifice than hers, nor the reward which such efforts bring. Alas! that such a life should be so rarely seen; and it is in the hope that a glance at some of its chief incidents may arouse within some others a like spirit, that these are given. She was the child of well-to-do parents, and was born in the Italian city whose name she bears. As a child and maiden she had the good fortune to enjoy the privilege of having her studies directed by her cultured father, who took the greatest delight in aiding her bright and winsome ways. As a child she manifested great sympathy with any who suffered from any physical infirmity, and displayed rare skill in its relief. She could not even see a dumb animal in pain without feeling some desire to care for it. This feeling grew with her growth. As she reached young womanhood she began to visit hospitals, and to study their condition, surroundings, methods, etc. She soon saw the need of refined and sympathetic women to minister to the sick, and asked herself if there were not to be found women enough to undertake such an important work. Gradually and steadily this purpose grew in the young girl's heart, and at length she resolved to go to Kaiserworth, near Dusseldorf, to undergo a course of training in Parson Fliedner's hospital, so that she might secure for herself as complete a knowledge and skill as possible, and while there she worked among the “deaconesses” as earnestly as if her daily bread depended upon her labors. On her return to England she gave herself for several months to the work of building up a hospital for sick governesses. While so engaged, dark rumors reached England from the Crimea, saying how the soldiers were dying of cold, sickness, and neglect; that the hospitals were foul and crowded; that there was a lack of proper food and clothing, and, above all, of tender care. Was there no one prepared to go to the rescue?11 This stirred a soul already prepared for heroic effort, and Florence Nightingale set to work and organized a band of thirty-four trained nurses, then gathered the needful supplies, and went out to be known hereafter as “the angel of the Crimea.” That she richly deserved this name may be gathered from the fact that under her labors the death-rate was reduced from 60 per cent. to a little above 1 per cent. She saw that the food was properly cooked, the clothing and bedding well washed and aired, that the bandages were adjusted and remedies applied. Long after the physician and other attendants had retired for the night, and darkness and sleep reigned through the hospital, this slight, frail woman was to be seen moving, lamp in hand, between the rows of poor couches on which the sick and wounded lay in pain. Nor did her labors end with caring for the body. She also sought to heal the soul. For months before her arrival the soldiers had not seen a woman's face. Their lot had been one of hardship and cruelty. But her presence worked like a charm, and soon brought a great change among them. One said of her, “Before she came there was cursin' and swearin', but after that it was as holy as a church.” Another said,—and no more touching tribute has ever been paid to woman,—“She would speak to me and another, and nod and smile to many more; but she could not do it to all, you know, for we lay there by hundreds; but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on our pillows again content.” Eternity will alone reveal the grand results which thus followed the splendid self-denying efforts she and her companions made on behalf of the wounded and dying during that terrible war. One fact may be helpful to understand that such will be the case. In Scotland the 23rd psalm is taught to children when they are scarcely out of their babyhood, and it is known as the “Nursery Psalm.” The following touching incident is given of one of the ladies who was thus co-operating with Florence Nightingale as nurse in a Scutari hospital. A Highlander near death, and yet hard against God, lay there. She spoke to him but he would make no answer. He even drew the sheet up over his head to keep her from speaking to him again. The next time she went through the ward he saw her coming towards his cot, and he covered his face again. Seating herself beside the bed she began to repeat in a low, kind voice the Nursery Psalm:— “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want,
He maketh me down to lie
In pastures green. He leadeth me
The quiet waters by.”
She noticed before the psalm was finished his hand went up to his eyes under the sheet. The next time she came he was ready to listen to what she had to say of Jesus and His love. He gave his heart to the Lord, and five days later died in great peace. The Nursery Psalm was used to touch a chord that was not quite paralyzed by his bitter enmity against God. It was “mony a weary mile” from his mother's knee in the Highland cottage, where, with her loving hand on his bonny, bright head, she had taught him the dear old psalm, to the Crimean hospital, where, a rough, hardened soldier, he lay dying; yet the mother's love, like Christ's tenderness, reached all the way, and drew him back to God. When the war was over, Florence Nightingale, the heroine of the hospital, was not forgotten by Her Majesty, and ultimately the government placed at her command the means to establish what is now known as St. Thomas's Hospital and the Nightingale Training-school for Nurses. Would that other young ladies, instead of wasting their time in foolish pursuits, would seek some field of labor in which they could do good, and thus prove a blessing to those who need it. Since her return from the Crimea, Miss Nightingale has never been strong, but she has been able to exert a wide influence through her books, which are everywhere accepted as authorities on nursing and hospital work. “Nursing,” she writes, “is an art; and if it is to be made an art, requires as exclusive devotion, as hard a preparation, as any painter's or sculptor's work; for what is the having to do with dead canvas or cold marble compared with having to do with the living body, the temple of God's Spirit!”—Home and Health.