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out that； according to the regulations； all soldiers should bring
with them into hospital an adequate supply of clothing； and he
declared that it was no business of his to make good their
deficiencies。 Apparently； it was the business of Miss
Nightingale。 She procured socks； boots； and shirts in enormous
quantities； she had trousers made； she rigged up dressing…gowns。
'The fact is；' she told Sidney Herbert； I am now clothing the
British Army。'
All at once； word came from the Crimea that a great new
contingent of sick and wounded might shortly be expected。 Where
were they to go？ Every available inch in the wards was occupied；
the affair was serious and pressing； and the authorities stood
aghast。 There were some dilapidated rooms in the Barrack
Hospital； unfit for human habitation； but Miss Nightingale
believed that if measures were promptly taken they might be made
capable of accommodating several hundred beds。 One of the doctors
agreed with her； the rest of the officials were irresolute it
would be a very expensive job； they said； it would involve
building； and who could take the responsibility？ The proper
course was that a representation should be made to the Director…
General of the Army Medical Department in London； then the
Director…General would apply to the Horse Guards； the Horse
Guards would move the Ordnance； the Ordnance would lay the matter
before the Treasury； and； if the Treasury gave its consent； the
work might be correctly carried through； several months after the
necessity for it had disappeared。 Miss Nightingale； however； had
made up her mind； and she persuaded Lord Stratford or thought
she had persuaded him to give his sanction to the required
expenditure。 One hundred and twenty…five workmen were immediately
engaged； and the work was begun。 The workmen struck； whereupon
Lord Stratford washed his hands of the whole business。 Miss
Nightingale engaged 200 other workmen on her own authority； and
paid the bill out of her own resources。 The wards were ready by
the required date； 500 sick men were received in them； and all
the utensils； including knives； forks； spoons； cans and towels；
were supplied by Miss Nightingale。
This remarkable woman was in truth performing the function of an
administrative chief。 How had this come about？ Was she not in
reality merely a nurse？ Was it not her duty simply to tend the
sick？ And indeed； was it not as a ministering angel； a gentle
'lady with a lamp'； that she actually impressed the minds of her
contemporaries？ No doubt that was so； and yet it is no less
certain that； as she herself said； the specific business of
nursing was 'the least important of the functions into which she
had been forced'。 It was clear that in the state of
disorganisation into which the hospitals at Scutari had fallen；
the most pressing； the really vital； need was for something more
than nursing； it was for the necessary elements of civilised
life the commonest material objects； the most ordinary
cleanliness； the rudimentary habits of order and authority。 'Oh；
dear Miss Nightingale；' said one of her party as they were
approaching Constantinople； 'when we land； let there be no
delays； let us get straight to nursing the poor fellows！' 'The
strongest will be wanted at the wash…tub；' was Miss Nightingale's
answer。 And it was upon the wash…tub； and all that the wash…tub
stood for； that she expended her greatest energies。 Yet to say
that； is perhaps to say too much。 For to those who watched her at
work among the sick； moving day and night from bed to bed； with
that unflinching courage； with that indefatigable vigilance； it
seemed as if the concentrated force of an undivided and
unparalleled devotion could hardly suffice for that portion of
her task alone。
Wherever； in those vast wards； suffering was at its worst and the
need for help was greatest； there； as if by magic； was Miss
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