Читать книгу The Life of Florence Nightingale - Edward Tyas Cook - Страница 62

“Do not answer this,” wrote a Minister to Miss Nightingale; “for I am sure you must have more on your hands now than a Secretary of State.” But what struck those about her was her perfect calm. “No one is so well fitted as she to do such work,” wrote Lady Canning to Lady Stuart de Rothesay (Oct. 17); “she has such nerve and skill, and is so wise and quiet. Even now she is in no bustle and hurry, though so much is on her hands, and such numbers of people volunteer services.” She had only one worry. Her pet owl had died. When her family were leaving Embley to see her off, the feeding of the owl was forgotten in the hurry and flurry. It was embalmed, and “the only tear its mistress shed through that tremendous week,” says her sister, “was when I put the little body into her hands. ‘Poor little beastie, it was odd how much I loved you.’ ”76 For the rest, she was “as calm and composed in this furious haste,” wrote her sister (Oct. 19), “with the War Office, the Military Medical Board, half the nurses in London to speak to, her own Committee and Institution, as if she were going out for a walk.” She was quiet because, like Wordsworth's Happy Warrior, in the heat of excitement, she “kept the law in calmness made, and saw what she foresaw.” Like the character drawn by another master-hand, “in the tumult she was tranquil,” because she had pondered when at rest.

A small black pocket-book is preserved in which were found, at Miss Nightingale's death, a few of the many letters received just before she left England for the East. Perhaps they were the very last letters received; perhaps they were there for other reasons. One spoke of a mother's love:—

Monday morning. God speed you on your errand of mercy, my own dearest child. I know He will, for He has given you such loving friends, and they will be always at your side to help in all your difficulties. They came just when I felt that you must fail for want of strength, and more mercies will come in your hour of need. They are so wise and good, they will be to you what no one else could. They will write to us, and save you in that and in all ways. They are to us an earnest of blessings to come. I do not ask you to spare yourself for your own sake, but for the sake of the cause.—Ever Thine.

Another letter reminded her of the love of God:—

God will keep you. And my prayer for you will be that your one object of Worship, Pattern of Imitation, and Source of consolation and strength may be the Sacred Heart of our Divine Lord. Always yours for our Lord's sake,

Henry E. Manning.

And a third among them was from the friend whose life she had declined to share, but whose sympathy was still precious to her:—

“My dear Friend,” he wrote (Oct. 18), “I hear you are going to the East. I am happy it is so, for the good you will do there, and the hope that you may find some satisfaction in it yourself. I cannot forget how you went to the East once before, and here am I writing quietly to you about what you are going to do now. You can undertake that, when you could not undertake me. God bless you, dear Friend, wherever you go.”