THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 DR. AND MRS. ELMER BELT
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 A Drama
 
 jH^^ 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS 
 ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO.. LiMiTEaj 
 
 LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 
 
 TORONTO
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 A Dr am a 
 
 BY 
 
 EDITH GITTINGS REID 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1923 
 
 A\l rights reserved
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF A.MEEICA 
 
 COPTRIGHT, 1922, 
 
 Bt the macmillan company 
 
 Set up and printed. Published September, 1922. 
 
 Press of 
 
 J. J. Little & Ives Company 
 
 New York, U. S. A.
 
 AC. 
 
 
 TO 
 
 SUSAN THAYER 
 
 TODAY IS AS YESTERDAY
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 A distinguished mind, clear, eminently practical and 
 thoroughly trained; a driving will, and a heart to use all 
 her powers for humanitarian purposes — such in part, was 
 Florence Nightingale, for whose achievements the world 
 honored the centenary of her birth on May 12, 1920. 
 
 "Here am I — send me." That was the slogan of her 
 life. Her personality stands out in a bright, shadowless 
 light. Her feet were always on the groimd; she never 
 attempted the impossible, never made a situation, never 
 overstepped a situation. She met existing circumstances 
 with executive genius and energy, quickly seeing the trend 
 of affairs; she used every available instrument and op- 
 portunity to turn the tide her way, to start her ideals on 
 a resistless current. In her composition there was little 
 of the animal nature. Intense and passionate, yes; but 
 intellectually and morally so. For thirty years of her 
 life she entered into a very cloister of work. In early 
 womanhood she hovered about the border of woman's nat- 
 ural destiny, but she only hovered. The straight flight 
 of her life was early taken and never deviated from. 
 
 The temper of the prophets of Israel was hers when she 
 wished to inspire — or denounce. Her religion was mod- 
 
 7
 
 8 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 era; she believed in work and in the Charity that made 
 no discrimination as to creeds. Jew or Gentile, Catholic 
 or Protestant, it was all one to her, provided they were 
 worth while in themselves and met their obligations, for 
 she belonged to the class of the great executives. As she 
 was a leader, she differentiated from the iy^e. Most ex- 
 ecutives are ruthless; she was not. Most executives want 
 personal recognition; she did not. The selflessness to a 
 cause, that usually goes with the mystic and rarely with 
 the practical person of affairs, was amazingly her atti- 
 tude. Never could there possibly have been anyone who 
 cared less for what came to her personally. She cared 
 only that things should be done, and rightly done, and 
 permanently done, and to have a reform thoroughly 
 established. She would have swept the stakes into any 
 hands she thought more efficient than her own. She 
 would have cut off her own if by so doing she would 
 have bettered her cause. Humanity never had more 
 tireless servants than those hands, or hands controlled 
 by an abler mind. Skillfully as she made others work, 
 she always took the main burden upon herself. 
 
 In most sketches made of her we get a very one-sided 
 portrait, because the different sides of her character are 
 so forceful that each in turn rivets the attention to the 
 exclusion of the others, giving a very false impression, 
 for she was an essentially well-balanced organism. It 
 is difficult to reconcile the combination of a passionate 
 desire to break her box of ointment — the Angel of the
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 9 
 
 Crimea — and the firm determination to save it — the Sani- 
 tary Engineer of the British Army. Her ideals, her 
 aspirations were always ballasted by facts: with scien- 
 tific accuracy she experimented on a small scale before 
 venturing into any big scheme. The wild fling of the 
 visionary was never hers; therefore no recommendations 
 from Florence Nightingale were ever turned down as 
 impracticable. The transformation she brought about 
 at Scutari seemed miraculous, but it was so only as any 
 great general's work is miraculous. 
 
 She wasted nothing that was worth while in herself 
 or in others. She was an aristocrat by birth — she 
 squeezed everything out of that for her cause. She had 
 wealth — that went to the cause. There was no silly fuss- 
 ing over her background. In Strachey's virile sketch we 
 catch the tremendous momentum of her character; we 
 catch her humor, which was the least pleasant thing about 
 her, as it was usually aroused by the foibles of her 
 friends and her opponents. Where Strachey failed was 
 in not recognizing her reactions, and they were always 
 sweet and sound ; he also loses the quality of her temper, 
 which was a first-rate one. A splendid temper, ever for 
 reform, never for revenge, red hot to remove evils; flar- 
 ing a little at stupidity, it burnt out quickly and clari- 
 fied the air. A fiery steed it was, that she held master- 
 fully in check when action, or restraint from action, 
 seemed wise. That what she did ISiould go over was 
 paramount with her. She very much hated a fool, and
 
 10 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 nothing could have seemed to her more foolish than to 
 desire something and to act in a way that would defeat 
 your desires. A very, very big house-cleaning it was that 
 she visualized for the world — and put through! How she 
 put it through showed the height that an executive of 
 parts can reach. 
 
 No one knew better than Florence Nightingale that 
 philanthropy not backed by common sense, and military 
 and civil reforms not enforced by laws, were merely 
 passing winds of mercy; but she held for her soldiers a 
 mother's fierce ambition and love, and they knew her 
 tenderness as well as her wisdom. Though there was not 
 a sentimental drop in her body, she so inspired the sol- 
 diers at Scutari that they kissed her shadow as she passed. 
 Read of the first six months she spent there and you will 
 not wonder that they did. She gave her life to them. 
 
 In her selflessness to a cause she stands with the very 
 great; in her mentality she stands with the very great; 
 in her moral and physical courage she stands with the 
 very great; but in the ability to appreciate those who 
 only stand and wait, she remained outside — imcompre- 
 hending. She might, on occasion, have been an angel; 
 she never could have been a saint. She would never 
 have voiced, "What I aspired to be, and was not, com- 
 forts me." Never! She looked at the great mystics with 
 veneration, but she was not one of them. She could not 
 help seeing things as they were here on earth. She fitted
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE xx 
 
 every lock with its proper key. Very clear the light about 
 her, no bewildering atmosphere to transform or confuse. 
 
 Put your ear to the heart of the world and listen. 
 You catch a throb beating far down the ages; you strain 
 heart and mind to hear it; it comes up the years to 
 you; each generation gathers a deeper note; it grows 
 stronger and stronger, more sustained, more imminent — 
 and breaks into the flooding time spirit. To-day Florence 
 Nightingale's spirit dominates the earth. This is her 
 day, her age, as it certainly was not when, to use her 
 own words, she "entered into work" in the mid- Victorian 
 era. Florence Nightingale was a brave and bracing sight; 
 there were none like her, none at all, in the nineteenth 
 century. But now the world is full of her spiritual 
 children; you will meet them in every hospital, in the 
 homes of the poor and wretched, in the homes of the 
 rich — directing, robbing death of some of its terrors, 
 making life possible for the afflicted. Because of Flor- 
 ence Nightingale and her followers, linked with the physi- 
 cians, death and disease to-day find skilled opponents. 
 Shakespeare's old age "Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, 
 sans everything" is an obsolete figure, and those of four 
 score and ten shall pass out with almost the gesture of 
 youth. There is no greater guild on earth than the one 
 of which she was pioneer and head mistress. She was 
 one who, having put on immortality, remains always 
 mortal. 
 
 To make a complete characterization of her I should
 
 12 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 not stop here, for she loved statistics, facts, and in her 
 most exalted moments she paused to verify and to correct. 
 So, with many apologies to her for my very great admira- 
 tion for her, herself, which would have bored her ex- 
 ceedingly; with humility before her for my liking of the 
 laurel and applause, which she so genuinely disliked; I 
 shall attempt to appease her indignant ghost by referring 
 you to the chronological list of her activities given in the 
 index of Sir Edward Cook's "Life of Florence Nightin- 
 gale." 
 
 It is impossible to write an epitaph for her. What she 
 had done ceased to interest her — it was what she was 
 about to do that alone concerned her. Wherever there 
 is work going forward for the afflicted, or for her soldiers, 
 there walks the shade of Florence Nightingale, and it is 
 always advancing from achievement to achievement. 
 "Here am I — send me." 
 
 In the play I have been obliged, for the purposes of 
 the stage, to condense certain events in her life into 
 special periods; for instance, the death of Lord Herbert 
 did not follow directly after the last interview with her, 
 but its effect upon her was as I have written it. The 
 famous controversy between Florence Nightingale and 
 Lord Herbert about sending additional nurses to the 
 Crimea took place in letters; but to bring the facts of 
 the case vividly before the audience I have made it take 
 place verbally. In one part only have I allowed my
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 13 
 
 imagination to invent, namely, in the love scene. The 
 name of the lover is purely fictitious, and the scene only 
 such as might have occurred, given her psychology. 
 That a lover did exist and that such a scene might have 
 occurred is all I may claim. The honors that were 
 showered upon her during the latter portion of her life 
 I have condensed into one ceremonial. I have not given 
 her one honor that she did not receive, and many that 
 she did I have been oblige to omit. 
 
 It is a grief to one making a drama of her life not 
 to be able to put on the stage London with its banners 
 flying, its streets crowded, waiting for the heroine of the 
 Crimea — and her slipping quietly to her home, escaping 
 all publicity; it was most characteristic. I can give only 
 a reflected picture of it in her own small room. Her 
 life was crowded with important events, but it is only 
 possible here to focus a few salient points, showing the 
 spirit and motives that dominated this extraordinary 
 woman throughout a life of ninety years, filled with un- 
 ceasing work. 
 
 Baltimore, 192 1
 
 PERSONS OF THE PLAY 
 
 Miss Florence Nightingale. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale, her father. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale, her mother. 
 
 Lady Verney (Parthe), her sister. 
 
 Mr. Sidney Herbert, later Lord Herbert, Secretary of 
 War. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge, friends of Miss Nightingale. 
 
 Lord Stratford, British Ambassador at Constantinople. 
 
 Major Sillery, Commandant of the Hospital and Chief 
 Pttrveyor at Scutari. 
 
 Duchess of Blankshire. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland, friend and helper of Miss Nightingale. 
 
 Mr. Allen Durham, in love with Miss Nightingale. 
 
 Alicia, the maid. 
 
 HoRTON, the butler. 
 
 Officials, Soldiers, Nurses.
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Time of the Crimean War, 1854. Drawing Room at Lea 
 Hurst. Mrs. Nightingale is at the tea table; Mr. 
 Nightingale is sitting near her; he puts his cup 
 down. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. You have not touched your tea; 
 is it quite wretched? 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. No, no. Foreign and domestic 
 troubles. Russell's letters from the Crimea are most 
 upsetting, and I am always uneasy when I feel another 
 bout pending between you and Parthe and Flo. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Bout! My dear William, what 
 an idea! The Crimean situation — shocking — I grant you 
 that. Englishmen neglecting their wounded! Incred- 
 ible! What must be the condition in other countries? 
 Florence will be on fire. Work for your country, of 
 course — but from your own platform. Parthe and I 
 will never give up trying to bring our exaggerated Flor- 
 ence back to the society to which she belongs. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Good Lord deliver us, thenl 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. The child is, I think, amiably 
 mad. The trials I have had with her are past telling. 
 
 15
 
 i6 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Be good enough to let them re- 
 main at "past telling.'^ I am weary of it all. For 
 twenty years certainly I have been a buffer state be- 
 tween Parthe and Flo and you. Such a clever woman 
 as you are, my dear, should know when you are beaten. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Beaten! I! Not at all. You 
 don't know me. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Alasl I do know you, and I 
 also know Florence. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. And knowing me you say I am 
 beaten? 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. A person may be beaten and yet 
 never give up; a very wearying situation to the man on 
 the fence. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. If you are the man on the fence, 
 William, I wish you would get off and help us. I shall 
 never give up trying to save Florence. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. That is the difficulty. You want 
 to save Florence from herself, and she thinks she has a 
 self that she wants to save from you, and devote to some 
 big cause. Our platform is too small for her. She 
 wants to step into the arena. [He takes up a newspaper 
 from a table near by.] Let me read you Russell's letter. 
 [Reads'] "It is with feelings of surprise and anger that 
 the public will learn that no sufficient preparations have 
 been made for the proper care of the wounded. Not 
 only are there no dressers and nurses — that might be a 
 defect of system for which no one is to blame — ^but what
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 17 
 
 will be said when it is known that there is not even 
 linen to make bandages for the wounded? That even 
 now when the soldiers leave the fetid ship that brings 
 them from the Crimea and are placed in the spacious 
 buildings where we were led to believe that everything 
 was ready which could ease their pain or facilitate their 
 recovery, it is found that the commonest appliances of a 
 workhouse or a sick- ward are wanting.'' . . . That's 
 Russell's account and he was on the spot. Herbert will 
 feel this keenly. He will take himself to task and he 
 will certainly consult Florence. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Sidney Herbert is at the bottom 
 of our trouble. He is always weakly agreeing with her. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. He has to. He, you see, does 
 know when he is beaten. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. It was Sidney who introduced 
 her to Elizabeth Fry; who urged her to study at Kaiser- 
 werth and educate herself to be a nurse. She is as 
 determined to hide from the sun as Parthe is happy to 
 shine in it. If Providence had only brought it about 
 that Sidney Herbert and Florence had married, his name, 
 and her position as his wife, would have covered her 
 eccentricities; as it is, she is just an old maid with a 
 crochet — and a vulgar crochet. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Why have you a grudge against 
 poor Sidney? Florence would have burnt him up. Now, 
 as it is, he has a beautiful, sweet, soft creature of a wife, 
 to whom he may escape when the storm beats high. I
 
 i8 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 have always been proud of Florence's intellect, but, after 
 all, to put brains into a woman's head is like turning a 
 colt loose in a flower garden — merely destructive. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. How absurd! Florence and a 
 flower garden! I have never been able to get her even 
 to arrange flowers for the drawing room. But colts! 
 that's another matter. At least nine colts out of ten bom 
 here and at Embly have been godmothered by Florence. 
 
 HoRTON {the old btitler, who has come in with hot 
 scones and who seems a privileged character, looks up'\. 
 Ah, ma'am, begging your pardon, but t'wan't only the 
 colts Miss Florence mothered. Every sick thing on the 
 place whimpered for her. God bless Miss Florence, 
 ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Quite so, my good Horton, but 
 we want her here with us. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale, warming his hands over the fire, 
 gives a low whistle and smiles cynically. Horton 
 goes out shaking his head. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Florence gets her turn of mind 
 from my father, who, poor dear, was always after some 
 hornet's nest. Nothing pleasant ever interested him in 
 the least. 
 
 Enter Lady Verney, very gay. 
 
 Lady Verney. Some tea, mama, some tea. Not a 
 word about the Crimea. It's too awful for words. Are 
 you two dear people worrying over Florence? Don't, 
 it's not worth while. Just let Florence have to sit and
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 19 
 
 listen meekly to a Board of Managers for a few months 
 and she'll — Shall I tell you what she will do? She will 
 marry Allen. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. She won't, and when she turned 
 him down, as I feel sure she has done, Florence became 
 a nun. Parthe, you are the natural woman, and that 
 gown becomes you. 
 
 Lady Verney. Oh, but life's delightful! Why, when 
 Providence has given you green pastures, should you pine 
 for dung hills? I think it ungrateful. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. It is, my dear, it is! If God 
 gives us a high position we must take the responsibilities 
 of the position. Florence is throwing away great oppor- 
 tunities. We have more ill persons on our own land than 
 one woman can possibly attend to. I miss her help ex- 
 cessively. The poor on our land look up to her, love 
 her. By helping me, she could have all the charitable 
 philanthropic work she could reasonably desire — but 
 will she? 
 
 Lady Verney [interrupting]. No, mama dear, she 
 won't. Florence wishes to be her own Commander. I 
 wouldn't be Florence's husband for any consideration, 
 unless it could be an arrangement of Queen and Prince 
 Consort. Now Florence and Allen could play those parts 
 well. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Florence is a noble creature, say 
 what you will; only I, too, wish with you that she could 
 take pleasure in the pleasant things of life.
 
 20 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. We are ducks who have hatched 
 a wild swan. 
 
 Lady Verney. No, mama, only a big, big goose— and 
 here the dear comes. 
 The door opens and Florence Nightingale comes 
 sweeping into the room; her coat is unbuttoned and 
 falling back from her shoulders; her head is held 
 very high and she is holding a newspaper in her hand, 
 from which she begins to read aloud, with intense 
 emotion. 
 Miss Nightingale [with great emotion']. Shame on 
 England 1 But she shall not turn to her women in vain. 
 The call for nurses has come. Listen: [^Reads aloud 
 from newspaper in her hand.] ''Why have we not Sis- 
 ters of Charity? There are able-bodied and tender- 
 hearted English women who would joyfully and with 
 alacrity go out to devote themselves to nursing the sick 
 and wounded, if they could be associated for that pur- 
 pose, and placed under proper protection.'* 
 Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale and Lady Verney listen 
 with breathless interest. As Florence finishes read- 
 ing, she looks from one to the other. 
 Miss Nightingale. Now you see where my life has 
 been leading. You see why God urged me, even in my 
 childhood, to train myself, to go to Kaiserwerth, to 
 school myself in Paris, to take this place in London. Oh, 
 I thank God that in spite of the driveling idiocy about 
 me I would do as I did. Now I am ready.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 2Z 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Ready for what? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Can you ask? The wounded 
 uncared for — did you read the papers this week? The 
 sick dying from neglect; France sending her women, 
 trained, intelligent women 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale [interrupting]. Florence, we will 
 send our nurses — but not our daughters. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Our nurses are the vilest of low 
 women — drunken, ignorant creatures; our nurses are co- 
 partners with the grave diggers. I bum with the shame 
 of itl Oh, to think that I have a body that takes time 
 to movel My soul, my heart, my mind, every drop that 
 is in me, is at the service of these poor men that are tor- 
 tured in order that we should have all this. [She waves 
 her hand scornfully about the luxurious room.] 
 
 Lady Verney. Wait a moment Florence, until I can 
 steady my poor little lace hat against the storm — such a 
 costly little hat it is, too. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [passionately]. Parthe, I beg of 
 you, do not jest now. Mama, papa, the wounded lie 
 rotting in a conscious death. Some of our badly wounded 
 who were on the ship, a stenching ship, did not see a 
 medical man for a week, though in their torture they 
 caught at the surgeon as he passed — and were shaken off 
 by him. That steadies my heart to act I Mama, it is a 
 hideous tale of mismanagement. Our troops, with the 
 thought of Queen and country, fought like heroes; and 
 when the enemy had done his work they were tossed
 
 22 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 over to a worse enemy — their own countr5mien. The 
 Sisters of Charity from France are the only light in this 
 black tragedy. Englishmen are dying slowly in stench 
 and filth, and the women of England knit socks, and sing 
 hymns, and say prayers — in rooms like this! 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale {coldly']. You are very ungrate- 
 ful to a God who sees fit to give you beautiful things, 
 and sacrilegious to doubt the wisdom of God who sees 
 fit to place one in one position, and one in another. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Sophistry and absurd, mama! 
 The good things that I have I will give with both hands 
 where my heart has gone — to those wounded in battle — 
 wounded for me. I tell you, mama, that though my 
 body has drifted fretfully at its moorings, I am seaworthy. 
 I am straining at anchor to be gone. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. To sail a sea of trouble and dis- 
 aster, Florence? You are very capable; you are very 
 gifted. Why not be a master builder, if you like that 
 simile, and send thousands to the rescue, rather than be 
 one of the thousands that some less masterful mind than 
 yours must direct? 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Well said, William! Florence 
 here at home, united with Parthe and me, and with Sid- 
 ney Herbert^s and Allen's help, could direct, get funds, 
 administer. Do you think, Florence, that I would do 
 better to make up beds for my household, cook, scrub, 
 rather than train others to do the work they were bom 
 to do?
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 23 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Mama, it is futile arguing. You 
 know I do not think anything so silly as that you should 
 cook and scrub; but I do not think God has singled us 
 and our class out because of any inherent worth in our- 
 selves. He who has been so good to us may be merely 
 watching to see how we act when dressed in a little brief 
 authority. If we fail, it may be the cook's turn next. 
 Who knows? Ah me! Mama, where do you find Christ? 
 Do you find Him in the palace of the Caesars, making 
 merry — in a lotus land of luxury — or in the sunny halls 
 of the protected righteous? \_She flings back her head 
 and looks far off, aloof and done.] I know now that the 
 passionate aim of my life is to hear my Master say: "I 
 was sick and ye visited me." [Then turning to them 
 with a sigh she smiles at them.] I am going mama. 
 But, dear ones, let me go with your love. 
 
 Lady Verney has been weeping. Mr. Nightingale 
 taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, looking very 
 unhappy. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale \_stUl coldly]. Your father and 
 Parthe will certainly yield to you; I see that. But I 
 will not, unless I must. Wait till we have talked the 
 matter over with Sidney Herbert — and with Allen. One 
 small matter you ignore, Florence — the Army does not 
 want women nurses — and I must say I think it is very 
 respectable and right-minded of the Army — and that a 
 daughter of mine should thrust herself upon an unwilling 
 Army is incredible, it is simply not done.
 
 24 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Lady Verney [laughing and wiping away her tears]. 
 One woman against the entire British Armyl Why, Flo, 
 you are a veritable little David. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. And you laugh, Parthe? 
 
 Mr. Nightingale [ptUs his arm about Lady Verney 
 and looks whimsically at Florence] . We laugh, mama, 
 as we sneeze — because we must — for relief. Thank you 
 for laughing, Parthe, I was at the weeping point. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Fortunately, the way is singu- 
 larly clear for me. I have been seeking for my work 
 all my life and now with a definite call it comes to me. 
 I am fortunate. 
 
 The butler comes with a letter which he hands to 
 Miss Nightingale. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [opening the letter'], Tis from 
 Sidney; our letters have crossed; I have already written 
 to him. [Opens the letter and reads with growing fw- 
 terest. At the close she draws a deep breath and looks 
 up.] He writes that he will be here in a few moments. 
 He asks me, urges me, to go. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Florence, have pity on us, who 
 love you for yourself. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No, no, mama, you love some- 
 thing not at all myself. Read what Sidney writes. [She 
 hands the letter to her mother.] I am trained, papa; I 
 feel certain of myself. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Florence! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Ah, Sidney thinks you will ob-
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 2$ 
 
 ject, but that the magnitude of the work must weigh 
 with you. But he will speak for himself [looking at the 
 clock]. He should be with us now. 
 
 The butler comes in and announces Mr. Herbert. As 
 Mr. Herbert enters he looks anxiously at the group 
 about the tea table, and as he sees his letter in Mrs. 
 Nightingale's hand, he goes quickly to her. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. My dear, dear lady. Do not be angry 
 with me for urging this upon Florence. Your daughter 
 is worth a hundred sons to the Government. She is the 
 only lady in the land to whom in our extremity we turn. 
 She is the only one who could organize, direct, and con- 
 trol this venture. In all England not one other person 
 is her equal. At the War Office her name brought hope. 
 Her Majesty is awaiting the answer that will refute the 
 shame now humiliating all England — that her troops 
 must look to the women of other nationalities for succor. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Her Majesty? 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Yes, the Queen knows that Florence 
 alone has the genius backed by knowledge for the work. 
 Let her go, not only with your consent, but with your 
 approval. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Under such auspices, she must 
 go with our proud approval. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [hardly hearing them has been in- 
 tent on her own thoughts. She now turns to Sidney 
 Herbert] . You say in your letter that the Bracebridges 
 will go with me?
 
 26 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Mr. Herbert. I feel sure of it. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Then say to them to be ready 
 within a week. We should catch the first outgoing 
 steamer. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. In a week? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Yes. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Do you think that could be done? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. It must be done. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. My wife said: "Florence will be off 
 for Scutari with her nurses by the next steamer sailing." 
 I believe that you will be. You dear wonder of a woman! 
 God bless you. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. So soon? Our Florence! 
 
 Lady Verney. Must we let her go so soon, Sidney? 
 
 Mr. Herbert. When God puts His stamp upon His 
 envoy, we must obey. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Sidney, that is the right word. 
 His stamp, not His yoke. I feel light with power. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. It is a strange world. I am proud 
 of my woman child, but a woman in harness is un- 
 English. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [her face breaking into laughter, 
 puts her hand teasingly under her jathefs chin and looks 
 merrily into his eyes] . Ah, but a lady in harness is most 
 English — and driven with a very tight bit, too. But we 
 must not cross swords now, papa, because I must quickly 
 put each one of you into harness if I am to keep my 
 boast of time enough and to spare in a week's prepara-
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 27 
 
 tion. Sidney, the call for nurses must go into the 
 papers at once. Will you see to it? 
 
 Mr. Herbert, Yes, before I dine to-night it shall have 
 gone to the press. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Florence has a vision of a wo- 
 man^s love flowing over those red fields of the wounded. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [laughing]. Mama, mama I my 
 vision is of soap and splints and food and sheets — clean 
 sheets. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Florence is our hope — standing alone 
 in her full equipment, a lady of lineage who knows how 
 to command, a woman of democratic comprehension who 
 knows how to feel, with mental and physical vigor, and, 
 pardon me, Florence, a driving will. This is my picture 
 of you, pioneer of trained nurses! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Yes, yes, all very pretty, but we 
 cannot waste time or words now. Please, please, be off, 
 Sidney — the notices — the Bracebridges. Oh, who is this? 
 
 Horton announces Mr. Durham. There is a general 
 look of embarrassment. Miss Nightingale moves 
 a little impatiently. Mr. Herbert becomes grave. 
 A tall, distinguished4ooking man comes into the 
 room. 
 
 Lady Verney [going to meet him]. You come at a 
 proud but sad moment for us, Allen. Do you know that 
 our Florence is requested by the Government to take 
 nurses out to Scutari and help relieve the shocking situa- 
 tion there?
 
 28 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Mr. Durham [moving with Lady Verney towards the 
 others, his eyes fixed upon Florence] . Yes, I had heard 
 some such gossip in town, Florence must consider us. 
 The war office should take care of its own soldiers. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. We are doing our best, and that is to 
 send Florence — better than that, no people could do. 
 
 Mr. Durham. Could you not persuade Mrs. Herbert 
 to go? A married woman would be more fitting — if a 
 woman must be used? 
 
 Miss Nightingale [haughtily lifts her hand to pre- 
 vent Mr. Herbert jrom a^tswering]. We have no time 
 for the woman question now. At the present moment, 
 married or single, man or woman, is of no consequence — 
 it's merely the right person for the emergency. I hope 
 that I am the right person — I rejoice that they think me 
 so — I am going. [She moves away jrom them towards 
 the Tnantel.] 
 
 Lady Verney. Come, Allen, we must bear the burden 
 of Flo's greatness. You are hurting Sidney. 
 
 Mr. Durham moves over to the table without speak- 
 ing and takes up a book. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [tttrns towards them]. Why do 
 you wait, Sidney? Every moment is of consequence to 
 us now. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. I go on the instant. Good-by, dear 
 people — and praise God for our Florence. 
 
 Mr. Durham looks up and shrugs his shoulders and 
 resumes his book. Mr. Herbert goes out.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 39 
 
 Mr. Nightingale [rising']. Your opportunity has 
 come, my child, I congratulate you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [putting her arm about his neck]. 
 Love me, papa; and forgive me for being so troublesome. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale [in a pretended whisper]. Don't 
 tell your mother or Parthe, but I'm tremendously proud 
 of you. I feel a little silly and feminine beside you. I 
 shall borrow a lace cap and parasol from Parthe and give 
 you my sword and coat. [They both laugh.} 
 
 Lady Verney. It's all very well for you to joke, papa, 
 but I tremble with fear for Flo — and from the very bot- 
 tom of my heart I wish she would listen to Allen and be 
 comfortable [looking towards Mr. Durham]. Allen, 
 put down your book; be generous, and talk it over with 
 Florence. 
 
 Mr. Durham. I had come to beg Florence to consider 
 how we must all suffer if she goes. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Come, Parthe. Come, William. 
 We will leave Florence to tell Allen herself of the Gov- 
 ernment's request. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale and Lady Verney go out. 
 
 Mr. Durham [leaning on the back of the chair and 
 watching Florence intently for a moment as she stands 
 absorbed by the fireplace]. W^ell, Florence? You have 
 no welcome for me? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I have no room for you, Allen; 
 perhaps that is alas for me, 
 
 Mr. Durham [leaving the chair and going towards
 
 30 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 her]. You are not apt to give up what you want — and, 
 my love, my dear, dear love, say what you will, I think 
 you do, a very little, want me. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Have you read the call for 
 nurses in the paper to-day? Government has asked me 
 to take charge of the situation. I leave in a week. 
 
 Mr. Durham [much moved] . Yes, but surely, surely, 
 Florence, we together, here at home, could do more than 
 either apart. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Allen, what would you say if the 
 generals of our army stayed at home, saying that the 
 burden and the heat of the day, the risk of death and 
 disease, were sacrifices that only the poor and the ig- 
 norant should make? If that were true, then the world 
 is theirs, and we of the aristocracy are merely parasites. 
 
 Mr. Durha^i [begging her question]. Is there any- 
 thing greater or more for the good of the world than love? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No, but love and passion are not 
 synon3mious. Ah, me, if I went to your arms now? 
 
 Mr. Durham {holding out his arms]. Come! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No, and no. I have chosen my 
 path. I have really always known my path, though at 
 times it was so dark I only stumbled blindly on my feet; 
 but in my heart and brain there never was darkness. 
 "Love," you say? My path is aflame with love, but it 
 is love that gives, and gives, and never takes. 
 
 Mr. Durham. We would give with our four hands 
 instead of two.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 31 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I know your idea of womanhood. 
 It has its attractions for me. T shall be lonely for them 
 and for you — perhaps; but I will not have them or you. 
 For a single moment I have stood with you and desire; 
 now I am telling you that the desire is dead. It was 
 only for a second, the heart-beat of the natural womsm, 
 that was all. Take my hand; feel how cool it is; it is 
 steady on the helm of my work. Go, Allen. Marry some 
 lady of leisure. 
 
 Mr. Durham [indignantly]. Florence! 
 
 Miss Nightingale [abstractedly]. Will you do an 
 errand for me? Take some telegrams and see that they 
 are sent on the instant. 
 
 Mr. Durham. Florence! 
 
 Miss Nightingale [wearily]. Have done, Allen. 
 Would a patrol sleep on duty? I will not stop for one 
 second longer to look on life personally from the domestic 
 woman's angle. [She goes to a desk and writes.] 
 
 Mr. Durham [watches her with his head held high 
 and drawn brows] . Say to your father and mother that 
 I send my apologies for my abrupt leave. I thought 
 love left, when it died, a certain sentiment in women — 
 but apparently not. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [turning hastily around]. I am 
 sorry, but will you take my telegrams, Allen? And try 
 to think kindly of me? 
 
 Mr. Durham [holding up his hand]. I am not your 
 lackey, Florence, beloved. When you come to a sense of
 
 32 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 your womanhood, your own and my need, I am your 
 lover. Until then, I bid you good-by; and God's blessing 
 on your undertaking, my dear — my dearest. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Oh Allen! Can't you under- 
 stand that the world's awry, and that we have no time, 
 and should have no inclination, to stop and smell nose- 
 gays? Forgive me — and take my messages, Allen. 
 
 Mr. Durham [smiling cynically]. No, that I will not 
 do. Give them to Herbert. 
 
 He goes out. Miss Nightingale clasps her hands 
 behind her head and watches for a moment the door 
 Allen has closed after him. Enter Lady Verney. 
 
 Lady Verney [going quickly to Miss Nightingale, 
 holds out both hands with a protesting gesture]. Flor- 
 ence, I saw Allen's face as he left. Oh, think twice before 
 you turn him away! Let me call him back. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No, I choose an impersonal life, 
 and a friendship like Sidney's. We work mind and heart 
 for one purpose. Was ever such friendship as Sidney's 
 and mine? Wait and see what it accomplishes. 
 
 Lady Verney. Dear Florence, Sidney has a wife, his 
 life is fully rounded — yours will not be. The great im- 
 personal love is not human. Oh, let me call Allen back — 
 he loves you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [drawing Lady Verney to her]. 
 Do I want him back? No, no. He would have satisfied 
 my intellectual nature, and my passionate nature, but
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 33 
 
 I have a moral and active nature that requires satis- 
 faction, which I would not find in his life. 
 
 Lady Verney. Ah, Florence, you would be happy at 
 home, and Allen loves you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Allen? [She moves a little away 
 from Lady Verney.] What is his ideal of a woman, 
 really? Something that sits in the corner and purrs and 
 breeds, and shows her claws only where her young is at- 
 tacked. No! my talons are for the poor, the ill, who 
 have no champion. Allen — little children of my own — 
 sweet English lanes and stupid autocratic English life — 
 I cannot linger with you. "I was sick and ye visited 
 me." [She bows her head and puts her hand for a 
 moment over her eyes; then with a light movement of 
 the head she looks up.] I am human. This dear house, 
 most surely I love it — and my dear people. But, Parthe, 
 [her face grows terrible in its sternness], the dead, lying 
 about in heaps like scraps of refuse! One moment — our 
 gallant men; the next — tortured for us and shunted off 
 by us to die in torment. Our War Office lolling in blun- 
 dering and inertia — unprepared — unprepared. Dear God, 
 I go to my appointed task; and it is my task; I would 
 have no other — I go, I go. 
 
 [Curtain']
 
 Scene II 
 
 Same. Four days later. Horton, the butler, is seen ar- 
 ranging chairs in rows at one end of the room, at 
 the other end a few comfortable chairs are placed about 
 a table upon which is a vase of flowers, a lamp, etc. 
 
 Horton [speaks in great ill humor] . Why Miss Flor- 
 ence wants a parcel o' jail birds to come 'ere and set in 
 my satin chairs is more'n a Christian can tell. 
 
 Enter Lady Verney humming gaily. She looks crit- 
 ically about her. 
 
 Lady Verney [to Horton] . Miss Florence will speak 
 a few words to a group of nurses whom she is going to 
 take with her. It's a sad time for us, Horton. [She goes 
 to the table and moves the books a little to one side. 
 Horton comes towards her.] 
 
 Horton. A sad day it is, Lady Verney. When does 
 Miss Florence go? 
 
 Lady Verney. In three days. All your fault, Horton. 
 
 Horton. Ye'U always make merry, me Lady; but 
 I'd give me eyes to keep Miss Florence 'ome. 
 
 Lady Verney. So would we all, Horton; but you 
 were always praising her for her nursing when she was 
 a little girl, and now she wants to take the entire world 
 by the ears and turn it into a nurse. 
 
 34
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 35 
 
 HoRTON. A drunken drab of a world it would be, me 
 Lady; for them nurses is a set of 'ussies as only cares for 
 drink and viciousness. I know 'em. When one gets 
 'old of a man he must choose between getting married 
 or buried. They won't let off from one or t'other. 
 
 Lady Verney. Miss Florence will take charge of all 
 that, Horton. 
 
 HoRTON. Very likely she will; there's naught she can't 
 do. Shall I give the women these chairs? 
 
 Lady Verney {who is reading a letter] . Yes, Horton, 
 but speak to them civilly; this lot are gentlewomen; 
 they are to go with Miss Florence into hard, hard work 
 — and danger, too, alasl 
 
 Enter Mr. Herbert; he nods to Horton, who bows 
 respectjtdly to him and goes out. Mr. Herbert 
 goes to meet Lady Verney. 
 
 Mr. Herbert [laughingly] . How is it with you, my 
 fair enemy? 
 
 Lady Verney. Your enemy, indeed I Yours and 
 Florence's toiling slave, you should say. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. We shall both be toiling slaves for 
 Florence after she leaves, if we are to get the money and 
 sympathy that she will need to make our eyperiment a 
 success. 
 
 Lady Verney. You have really against you an im- 
 movable prejudice on the part of many in authority. 
 Women nursing soldiers is rather startling, you know. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Florence will carry it over.
 
 36 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Lady Verney. She will! We are an obstinate fam- 
 ily, but Florence is the grindstone upon which all our 
 wills have been worn out. The grindstone remains in- 
 tact. War Offices may come and War Offices may go, but 
 Florence's little purpose will remain forever — and thrive. 
 I know my sister. 
 
 Florence Nightingale comes into the room. She 
 smiles and nods to them in a castml may, and looks 
 at the clock. Horton comes in and gives her a note, 
 which she opens and reads. She shrugs her shoidders 
 and turns to Lady Verney and Mr. Herbert. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. From Dr. Ordley. He writes 
 that he is sending four women who wish to go with me. 
 He adds that he never asks for characters from these 
 women as no woman with a character would do a nurse's 
 work. Isn't it amazing? [To Horton, who has been 
 waiting.] Well, Horton? 
 
 Horton. A female of sixty brought that note, Miss 
 Florence; she says she's a young haspirant. She's 'ad 
 time to outgrow hanything. Three other females are with 
 her — and I wouldn't trust the plate with hany one of 
 them about the 'ouse. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Bring them here. 
 Horton goes out. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [turning to Mr. Herbert] . I am 
 keeping a record of the women who have applied. I wish 
 to show exactly the types we have had to select from.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 37 
 
 Mr. Herbert. The group you yourself have asked 
 to come to-day are of a good order? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. They are gentlewomen, with a 
 few exceptions. 
 
 HoRTON opens the door and ushers in jour women. 
 Two are in widow's weeds and seem about forty 
 years old; the other two are somewhat younger, 
 much overdressed and painted. They approach Miss 
 Nightingale, who turns to receive them. She has 
 her hands folded before her. Lady Verney and 
 Mr. Herbert take their seats at the table with pen- 
 cils and paper to make any necessary notes for Miss 
 Nightingale. 
 Miss Nightingale [looking gravely from one to an- 
 other of the women'] . Dr. Ordley writes that you wish to 
 go with me to Scutari. [Turns to the one who seems the 
 most aggressive] What are your qualifications as a 
 nurse? 
 Woman [haughtily] . I'm a widow, ma'am. 
 Miss Nightingale {^suppressing a smile]. That's 
 deplorable, but how does that fit you for nursing work? 
 Woman. You'd not ask that if you'd known Jacob 
 Fetig. He were puny for twenty years, and went to his 
 burying with no more fat on 'is bones than a poor man's 
 turkey. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. What other discipline have you 
 had?
 
 38 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Woman. None, ma'am. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. You don't meet the requirements. 
 Horton, show Widow Fetig out. 
 
 Woman [leaves the room, saying indignantly]. And 
 I a widow! I nussed a man twenty years, and I won't 
 do, won't I? We'll see. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [turning to the other woman in 
 black]. What are your qualifications? 
 
 Woman [with her head up]. I'm a widow. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. My good woman, this is not a 
 retiring board for afflicted widows. What do you know 
 about nursing? 
 
 Woman. I have had nine children, ma'am, and never 
 a well one among them. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Where are they now? 
 
 Woman. Dead, ma'am; every last one of them. I'm 
 free to go, ma'am. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I must have some one experi- 
 enced in keeping people alive, my poor woman. I'm 
 afraid you won't fit my work at all. 
 
 Woman [going off in great offense, turns as she reaches 
 the door]. Bad luck to ye! 
 
 Miss Nightingale [turning to one of the overdressed 
 women] . Do you know anything about the care of the 
 sick? 
 
 Woman. Not a whit, ma'am; but I'm willing to make 
 a try at it. I can get on with anything in trousers — 
 unless it's an old fambly cooler on legs like the one as
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 39 
 
 showed me into this 'ere room. [Turns and makes a 
 face at Horton, who looks fixedly at the ceiling.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looking sternly at her] . Horton, 
 show this woman out. 
 
 Woman [looking scornfully about her as she goes to 
 the door gives Horton a midge]. Sly old smoulder can. 
 Did I call it a cooler? Are you winking yer eye at me, 
 ye old sinner? [Horton steps back in horror as she 
 laughs and goes out.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale [to the last of the applicants]. 
 What fits you for nursing? 
 
 Woman. IVe been a ward nurse now these six years. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Can you dress wounds? 
 
 Woman [indignantly]. I can dress a body as any 
 respectable woman should. But 111 'ave nothing to do 
 with their nasty wounds. I leaves them to the saw-bones. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [curtly]. Show the woman out, 
 Horton. 
 
 Woman [goes off in a fu^ry; as she reaches the door, 
 she turns and says]. Ye are keeping the job for the 
 ladies, are ye? Ye think to get a 'usband or two among 
 ye. Shame on ye for getting the better of a poor man on 
 'is back, with 'is legs up. 
 
 Horton opens the door to let her out, his face ex- 
 pressing great indignation. 
 
 Woman [looking at him scornfully], I'd like to 'ave 
 ye to me 'and, ye old reprobate. 
 
 Horton follows her out. As the door closes, Mr.
 
 40 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Herbert and Lady Verney look at each other and 
 
 at Miss Nightingale, and break into laughter. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [merrily]. Do please write to 
 
 Dr. Ordley and thank him prettily for this treat he has 
 
 given us. Now the nurses are coming whom I have 
 
 chosen myself. You will see the difference. 
 
 Horton [^entering]. A woman, Miss Florence, as 
 begs she may see you — I can't turn her off; a poor, haf- 
 fiicted creater. 
 Miss Nightingale. Bring her here. 
 
 Horton goes out. 
 Lady Verney. Ah, Florence, it's some poor mother 
 or sweetheart — if you see one they will come by hundreds. 
 Miss Nightingale {^sadlyl. If I only could see 
 them all — one comfort is that God does. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Let me see the poor woman for you. 
 Florence; it will be part of my work when you are gone. 
 Miss Nightingale. No, this one I will see for my- 
 self. 
 
 Horton ushers in a woman rather poorly dressed. 
 Miss Nightingale goes to meet her; the woman 
 looks helplessly around and then throws herself at 
 Miss Nightingale's feet. 
 Woman. Oh, miss, you'll see my son — he's a foxy- 
 looking boy. You'll maybe not like his face till he smiles 
 — oh, oh, miss, if I could only see him smile — 'tis a 
 kinder innocent smile, miss. Oh, God, if I could only
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 41 
 
 see him smile. Will you tell him his mother is breaking 
 her heart to reach him? [She bows her head sobbing.'] 
 
 Miss Nightingale [leans down and takes the wo- 
 man's face between her hands]. I will be very tender 
 with your boy. Tell me his name. 
 
 Woman. Brian Dare, miss — and he'll make a brave 
 show, but don't mind him, miss; he's timorous-like in 
 his heart. Only his mother knows how he minded a hurt, 
 and I can't get to him, miss. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Stand up, poor mother! [The 
 woman gets up wiping her eyes with her shawl.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale [putting her hand on her shoulder ^ 
 looks into her eyes] . Be brave — have faith, and do your 
 part here — see that Brian has a home to return to. I will 
 search for your dear boy and write you of his smile. 
 The woman begins to weep. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Now stop weeping — you need 
 all your strength to keep a house and a mother for your 
 son. Horton, give Mrs. Dare a cup of tea. Her son is 
 fighting for you. 
 
 The woman seizes one of Miss Nightingale's hands 
 and kisses it. Miss Nightingale withdraws her 
 hand and indicates that she must go. Mr. Herbert 
 comes forward and takes the woman's hand; she 
 looks at him with some fear. 
 
 Mr. Herbert [gently] . I will take you out for your 
 tea and you will give me your name and together we
 
 42 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 will tell the mothers of England of Miss Nightingale. 
 [He leads the wofnan out.] 
 
 Lady Verney [going to Florence]. Oh, my dear, 
 how can you bear it? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. How can I bear to wait until a 
 slow boat reaches the wounded men of England? That's 
 what I don't know. 
 
 Lady Verney. I will work hard for you at home, 
 Florence. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [touches Lady Verney lightly on 
 the forehead with her lips]. I know you will, Parthe. 
 Enter Horton 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Horton, be sure and look after 
 my pets when I am gone. 
 
 Enter Mr. Herbert. 
 
 Horton. It will be a sad day for them and for me 
 when you go, Miss Florence. I remember the time you 
 nursed Cap, the shepherd dog 
 
 Miss Nightingale [holds up her hands in protest]. 
 Please, please, Horton. Didn't I ever do anything but 
 care for that dog? [Turns to Lady Verney and Mr. 
 Herbert who both look amused]. I am as hard beset 
 by that dog as George Washington's memory is by his 
 little hatchet. It's quite too awful. Instead of saying the 
 boy was not untruthful, they tell that tale of the hatchet; 
 and instead of saying that I was not an unkindly little 
 girl, I am made a bore to all other little girls by the tale 
 of Cap.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 43 
 
 HoRTON [proiuUy], I tell everyone about it, Miss 
 Florence. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I am sure you do, Horton. Please 
 don't. 
 
 Horton shakes his head and goes out. 
 
 Miss Nightingale \_gaUy']. €k)me, Parthe. Come, 
 Sidney. We must be doing. Only three days left. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Do you, by the way, ever sleep? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No sleep for us now. Come. 
 
 Lady Verney [sinking into a chak and looking qtdz- 
 zicaUy at Miss Nightingale and Mr. Herbert]. I'm 
 not a widow, ma'am, but I won't do. I'm going to rest. 
 It has not been borne in on me that I am an important 
 factor in the universe. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [reproachftdly], O Parthe 1 
 
 Mr. Herbert [shaking his finger at Lady Verney]. 
 Let us leave her, Florence; she is in a wicked mood. 
 
 Miss Nightingale kneels down beside her sister and 
 puts her arms around her neck. 
 
 Lady Verney [piUs her hand caressingly upon Miss 
 Nightingale's cheek and looks up at Mr. Herbert]. 
 For just one second, Sidney, I will keep her from being 
 an active force ; keep her just my very own little sister — 
 who nursed Cap, the dog. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I'm ashamed of you, Parthe. 
 [She rises, looks at the clock. Herbert goes to her 
 side. Lady Verney watches them lazUy.] 
 
 Herbert. If only our positions were changed and you
 
 44 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 could go to Parliament and I to Scutari! How gladly I 
 would save you the hardships! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. We work as one person, Sidney. 
 I will be with you in Parliament and you with me at Scu- 
 tari. In England a woman can work only through a 
 man — fortunate indeed it is when their ideals are the 
 same. 
 
 Lady Verney. A woman work only through a man^ 
 oh, Florence, Florence! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. It should not be so, but it is so. 
 I can't go to Parliament — I cannot force reforms except 
 through men. 
 
 Lady Verney. I assure you that they will do what 
 you tell them to do. Don't worry! [She rises.] I must 
 see that Horton works through me. I must soothe the 
 poor soul before your next lot of women come. I shall be 
 back presently. [She goes out.'] 
 
 Mr. Herbert [goes near Miss Nightingale and looks 
 wistjully at her]. Florence 
 
 Miss Nightingale [smilingly']. Sidney? 
 
 Mr. Herbert. How can I let you go? You are suffi- 
 cient in yourself, but I need the sharpening of my intel- 
 lect by yours. My ideals were blurred until you brought 
 them to focus. How can I let you go? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Why, Sidney, my master, what 
 does it matter whether the poles of the earth separate us? 
 We are working together for one purpose. Neither could 
 do without the other.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 45 
 Mr. Herbert. And yet Allen Durham thinks 
 
 Miss Nightingale [interrupting indignantly']. Allen 
 thinks! What does he think? He thinks of life only as 
 he has been taught to think. He is Primitive Man sur- 
 rounded by modern conveniences. You and I are not 
 thinking of ourselves. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Allen feels that he is thinking of you 
 — that I am sacrificing you to a Cause. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. But it is my Cause! Allen and 
 his like cannot see how anyone can have a passion for 
 other women's children. They do not see over their own 
 garden walls into the vast world of humanity. I do. 
 You do. There is no greater power on earth than friend- 
 ship such as ours. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. And yet love is greater than friend- 
 ship, dear Florence. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Sidney, what is our friendship 
 but love, the best of all kinds of love? Together we will 
 make it a redeeming, unselfish force. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. I know — I know that is true! But 
 in the changes and chances of this mortal life 
 
 Miss Nightingale [interrupting and putting her 
 hand on his shoulder]. Such beautiful words, Sidney, 
 but I have always thought that they minimized the power 
 of God. For changes put improvements, for chances, 
 opportunities. You have given me my opportunity. 
 
 Mr. Herbert [smiles] . It is like you, dearest friend, 
 to bid the dreamer arise.
 
 46 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Are you the dreamer? Cer- 
 tainly you keep me from forgetting that without vision 
 the people must perish. You have given me my vision. 
 I know only the tools that v/ill make the vision realized. 
 God means us to work together. We shall know the 
 height of friendship, you and I. 
 
 Enter Lady Verney. She looks toward Me. Herbert 
 and Miss Nightingale. 
 
 Lady Verney. What have you two been talking 
 about? Sidney looks a bit discouraged and you, Flor- 
 ence, exalted. 
 
 Mr. Herbert [drawing himself up more erectly y gives 
 a sigh and laughs^. My gay lady, we were talking of 
 love and friendship. You, an adept, might inform us 
 on the subject. 
 
 Lady Verney. You are both dears — also you are the 
 two very silliest and wisest people I know; but as for me, 
 I am a wee bit sorry for a lover when he loses. Poor 
 Allen! 
 
 Mr. Herbert. I understand how he feels. 
 
 Lady Vernby. Oh, do you, Sidney? Why don^t 
 you tell him so? 
 
 Mr. Herbert. I do not believe that he would like 
 me to. 
 
 Lady Verney. No? It^s very deep of you to see 
 that. 
 
 Miss Nightingale moves abstractedly to the window
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 47 
 
 and looks out. Lady Verney watches her for a 
 moment and sees that she is not listening. 
 
 Lady Verney [turning quickly to Mr. Herbert]. 
 You have stepped in, Sidney, between Florence and a 
 natural love. You have your wife as well as the Universe. 
 Florence has only the Universe. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Only the Universe? Well, she is big 
 enough for it. 
 
 Lady Verney. Oh yes, but it seems cold to little me 
 — and fearfully lonely. Allen would have dragged her 
 down from her natural impulses to some personal com- 
 fort by the fire^de. You send her off through her natural 
 impulses to disease, danger, work, with never, never a 
 fireside to idle beside. 
 
 Mr. Herbert [miserably']. She shall have my every 
 thought. I will drive heart and mind and body for her. 
 I'll help her to win a crown. [Dispiritedly.'] I help her 
 win a crown! She would win one without any help. I 
 suppose everyone must be lonely. 
 
 Lady Verney. Not a bit of it! I'm not lonely. 
 [Suddenly.] Forgive me, Sidney. I think you the 
 gentlest, finest man on earth, but I don't think you 
 are Florence's master — and you are making her depen- 
 dent on you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [turning round] . What were you 
 saying? 
 
 Lady Verney. Sidney is a bit down.
 
 48 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Miss Nightingale [coming towards them and speak- 
 ing a little sharply']. You understand, Sidney, and the 
 War Office understands, that I am to have absolute 
 authority over the nurses. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Quite so. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. And that not one woman goes 
 without my consent — not one is to follow me there unless 
 I send for her. We must make this very critical experi- 
 ment of women nurses on a small scale at first. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Certainly. It shall be as you wish. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. And I shall expect a large finan- 
 cial backing. We must hurry up the subscriptions. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. That shall be done. 
 
 Lady Verney. What an awful, awful time women do 
 have getting their way through men. 
 They laugh. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I am going out for a moment — 
 I am expecting my nurses soon, those of my own choosing. 
 
 She goes out, passing Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale as 
 they come in. 
 
 Lady Verney [going to meet her mother']. Isn't it 
 wonderful ! Florence has fired all England with enthusi- 
 asm. Packages have been coming in all day and they 
 say that the wharf is congested with stores to be sent 
 out. I hope you will have a mild season. There will 
 not be a man in England left with a flannel undervest. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. I will fly to my maiden aunt for 
 protection. I have instructed my man to lock up all my
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 49 
 
 valuable stock before it gets tagged to be sent to the 
 Crimea. 
 
 Lady Verney. No hope for you, papa. Flo expects 
 from you a perfectly enormous draft. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. A family camiot indulge in anything 
 
 more expensive than a popular heroine. A beauty like 
 
 yourself, Parthe — or a race horse — comes lighter. 
 
 HoRTON enters. The Duchess of Blankshire, a very 
 
 large lady, comes in; she has a tuft of feathers in 
 
 front of her bonnet. She is wearing a silk mantle 
 
 and is carrying a little dog. She goes rapturously 
 
 to Mrs. Nightingale smiling , and then turns to the 
 
 others. 
 
 Duchess. My sweet dear, what an incredible thing! 
 
 The town is ringing with dear Florence's name. I must 
 
 see her. God is guiding her. She has His blessing. But 
 
 it all depends on one thing: Has she got the money? 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Now, Duchess, I see where you 
 
 stand. 
 
 Duchess. Of course, you do. And Florence must be 
 well chaperoned, too. Tommies! you know how quite 
 shocking they are — she will find that all the women she 
 takes out will want to marry them. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. No! I had never thought of thatl 
 
 And I have always heard that the British soldier marries 
 
 quite casually as often as he is asked to. 
 
 The Duchess looks at him; Mrs. Nightingale looks 
 
 shocked; Lady Verney laughs. Enter Florence
 
 so FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Nightingale. She looks surprised as she sees the 
 Duchess. 
 
 Duchess. My dear child, I have come to give you my 
 blessing, to tell you that you have my prayers. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. But, dear Duchess, I have the 
 prayers of all the poor people in town; from you I want 
 only your pocket book. 
 
 Duchess [horrified]. My purse! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Certainly, ju^t that. Look! 
 [She holds out a memorandum book with pencil.'] Now, 
 who will head this subscription with a truly inspiring 
 sum? Come, Duchess! 
 
 Mr. Herbert [goes quickly to Miss Nightingale 
 and takes the book]. I claim the right to head the list. 
 [He writes in the book and returns it to Miss Nightin- 
 gale.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looks at the book]. Sidney, you 
 really shouldn't. You have a family. 
 
 Mr. Herbert moves away with a little laughing ges- 
 ture. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Give me the list, Florence, but I'll 
 cover Sidney's donation — I won't look at it — I won't be 
 bullied or made ashamed of my mite. [He writes some- 
 thing down and hands Florence back the book.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looks up at him]. Oh, papa, 
 how good you are. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. I will not have it said that I 
 valued my ducats more than my daughter.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 51 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Now, Duchess, show what a 
 woman can do. 
 
 Duchess. Florence Nightingale, you may bully these 
 men but you shan't bully me. I shall subscribe a very 
 tiny sum to this venture of yours. 
 
 Miss Nightingale {looks humorously at her] . I sup>- 
 pose you know I am taking this paper, directly I have 
 your subscription, to Lady Bland? 
 
 Duchess. Florence, you know that woman is my 
 enemy and that I would give a pretty big sum to make 
 her give more — here, hand me the paper. [The Duchess 
 takes the book and hands it back to Florence who looks 
 at it.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale. This is really good of you. I 
 knew you had a kind heart. 
 
 HoRTON [entering]. A number of women as says you 
 are expecting them. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Bring them in and give them 
 those chairs [indicating the chairs at the end of the 
 room] . 
 
 HoRTON goes out. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. These are nurses I was expecting. 
 
 Duchess. I shall stay and see how my money is going 
 to be spent. 
 
 The Duchess, Mrs. Nightingale, Mr. Nightin- 
 gale, Lady Verney and Mr. Herbert all retire a 
 little into the background. Horton opens the door, 
 and a group oj very respectable-looking women come
 
 S2 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 in. Some of them are in the garb of Catholic sis- 
 ters. They bow to Miss Nightingale and take the 
 seats HoRTON indicates. A Catholic sister takes 
 her place first. A few of the other women show 
 dissatisfaction; one seems to hesitate to sit next to 
 the sister. Miss Nightingale notices this attitiide, 
 and with a little half-sad^ half-amused smile moves 
 nearer to the group, giving them an all-including 
 smile of welcome. 
 Miss Nightingale [in a pleasant voice], Won^t you 
 be seated? [To the Catholic sister.] Sister Serena, will 
 you take a place near me? [Lord Herbert quickly 
 places a chair near Miss Nightingale. The sister moves 
 quietly forward, bows to Miss Nightingale, and sits 
 down. The other women, a little shamefacedly, take 
 their places]. I wish to talk to you very informally. 
 Please interrupt me at any moment with any question you 
 wish to ask. 
 
 A Woman [rising]. I beg pardon, Miss Nightingale, 
 but I thought this a Protestant mission. [Sits down.] 
 Miss Nightingale [fiercely]. Protestant mission I 
 Are the men who are fighting for you only Protestants? 
 Let me inform you that until now there have been no 
 reputable nurses except among the Catholic sisters. It 
 makes not the slightest difference whether one is Jew 
 or Gentile, Catholic or Protestant, provided one has good 
 morals and capable hands. "Judgment is mine, saith 
 the Lord.'^ Leave the Almighty his confessional; you
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 53 
 
 have nothing whatever to do with your fellow-workers' 
 passports to God. If a Catholic is dying, I will do my 
 utmost to provide him his priest; if a Jew, his rabbi; 
 if a Protestant, his pastor. \_She pames.] 
 
 Another Woman [rising]. Miss Nightingale, I am 
 willing to do any work that is fit for a lady, but I heard 
 someone say that we have to do washing. [Sits down.'] 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Do washing! Of course you 
 will, and exceedingly nasty washing. Do not idealize 
 what is before you. You will have to scrub floors, wash 
 clothes, and clean beds of vermin, and do whatever you 
 are told to do without complaining. Two things that 
 are imperative for you to have are common sense and 
 unselfishness. An illustrious poet has written: 
 "Men must work and women must weep 
 While the harbor bar is moaning. '* 
 Absurd stuff, to which a number of women have taken 
 very kindly. There can be nothing of that order with 
 us. There is a long, hard road before us, but I see a 
 great healing force passing on into the ages, growing 
 greater and stronger until the time shall come when 
 'There shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor cry- 
 ing. Neither shall there be any more pain, for former 
 things have passed away." When that time comes, we, 
 of our profession, shall sleep well. Until then, it is 
 work. [There is silence for a moment and then Miss 
 Nightingale turns to Lord Herbert.] Lord Herbert, 
 our chief, wishes to say God-speed to you.
 
 54 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Lord Herbert. I look at you women with a full 
 heart. You are pioneers. The experiment of women as 
 army nurses is in your hands. I know that you will 
 succeed for you have in Miss Nightingale a great 
 leader, to whom I ask you to give implicit obedience. 
 Those who follow after you will say, "God bless you!" 
 as I say it now. [^He touches Miss Nightingale 
 lightly on the shoulder.'] Here is your surety that all 
 will end well in the short, hard to-day and the long, 
 unknown to-morrow. \_He looks at them jor a mormnt 
 in silence.] God be with you in Scutari! 
 
 [Curtain.]
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Scutari. Grounds in front of the Barrack Hospital. The 
 hospital is on high ground, overlooking the Sea of 
 Marmora with Constantinople in the distance. Time: 
 afternoon of November 4, 1854. 
 Major Sillery [Commander of the Hospital'], Lord 
 Stratford [British Ambassador], and a number of 
 surgeons, medical men and officers of various ranks, are 
 standing about in front of the hospital entrance. The 
 ground, almost up to the entrance, is covered with 
 wounded men. The stretchers are coming and going. 
 Now and then the stretcher-bearers [themselves 
 wounded men] are too weak to carry their burden and 
 drop exhausted to the ground. A pile of dead sewn 
 up in canvas lies in a heap on the ground, waiting for 
 the orderlies to carry them off. 
 Lord Stratford [laughingly to one of the young sur- 
 geons, and looking at his watch]. Miss Nightingale 
 should be here now, but lady-birds are privileged charac- 
 ters. 
 
 Major Sillery [looking about with a bothered ex- 
 pression]. I wish we might have tidied up a bit for the 
 
 55
 
 56 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 ladies, but there doesn't seem to be anyone to do the 
 work. That pile of dead there — the ground is never clear 
 of them. 
 
 1ST Officer. It's not at all bad. The dead have 
 to wait for the living, you know. That's Scripture. 
 
 Lord Stratford. You young fellows must not wear 
 your hearts on your sleeves; the birds will peck them 
 cruelly. 
 
 Young Surgeon [looking very sidkyl . I am sure, sir, 
 we were doing very well as we were. It seems hard for 
 Government to send out a lot of women for us to look 
 after. 
 
 2D Surgeon. It's a beastly shame! Government 
 hasn't enough to do, that's the matter. We were getting 
 on all right. And now — women! 
 
 Lord Stratford [laughing]. Come, come; but if the 
 birds start demoralizing the fit men, let me know. The 
 battles must be fought. [To Major Sillery]. How 
 many wounded have you? 
 
 Major Sillery. There are seventeen hundred and 
 more cases of sick and wounded in this hospital alone, 
 and about a hundred and twenty are cholera cases. 
 
 Lord Stratford. That should keep the birds busy. 
 Lady Stratford is terribly concerned lest they flirt with 
 the orderlies. 
 
 1ST Officer. It's all that damned sentimental non- 
 sense Russell oozed out in The Times; it started Herbert 
 using his soft brain.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 57 
 
 Major Sillery. Mr. Herbert is a wonderful man, a 
 humanitarian and a man of force. 
 
 Lord Stratford. Quite so, but a sentimentalist. 
 
 1ST Officer. What's the row, anyhow? We are 
 doing as we have always done. I hate these new fads. 
 These ambulances, now — rotten affairs. Just pitch a fel- 
 low into a cart with some hay at the bottom, and he likes 
 it a lot better. I know, for when I got a hole in my leg 
 in the Peninsula war, I was very grateful for a toss-up in 
 a cart. It was good for me, too, made me exercise to 
 keep the wounded side on top. What do people expect 
 when they go to war? 
 
 Lord Stratford. Expect! Why lovely birds, to be 
 sure, to sing for them. 
 
 1ST Officer. The dear ladies, with Herbert as Chair- 
 man, want a nice, wordy war. Myl how your talker 
 hates to do things! 
 
 2D Officer. When Herbert sends out his light infan- 
 try and the Nightingale Guards, we might suggest that a 
 scratch or two is possible. They may really get hurt, 
 you know. I wager they stipulated that they be returned 
 sound and their morals uncontaminated. 
 
 3D Officer. Rotten nonsense, I call it. The War 
 Office sleeps late, and they think that war is merely 
 shaking a finger in sweet remonstrance over the lines. 
 Also, they want to unload all their old socks on us; there 
 are about two thousand pairs dumped out on the wharf
 
 58 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 and for men, too, who have not as much as one foot to 
 the hundred of them. 
 
 2D Officer. It's not their old socks but their old 
 maids they want to shove on us. Do you think they 
 will send out one pretty girl? Not on your life! I wager 
 the dead will turn from the scarecrows they'll ship to us. 
 
 4TH Officer. I hear that Miss Nightingale is very 
 p>ersonable. 
 
 Lord Stratford. I have never met her, but she has 
 birth and wealth; she has power with Government and 
 at Court. I trust she will quickly attach herself to one 
 of you young fellows and that it will end in marriage all 
 around — and a voyage home for the hone3mioon. 
 
 The men laugh. 
 
 1ST Officer [turning to another^. Are we really 
 short of linen, you know? and — ah, soap? We could 
 hardly be short of soap. 
 
 2D Officer. I don't know. It's none of my business. 
 The blooming beggars don't want to bathe, anyhow. 
 
 3D Officer. Whose business is it? 
 
 4TH Officer. The Lord alone knows. What does it 
 matter? Let the men sleep on the ground — it's war. 
 Nothing like offsetting one bad thing by another! You 
 get your balance. Men should be hardened. Ambu- 
 lances, soap, pap, cots — and women! And we call our- 
 selves Englishmen!
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE £9 
 
 Young Surgeon. Still we ought to have cots, you 
 know; and there's a blasted sewer under the hospital, — 
 it stinks warm nights in the wards. I've seen a well man 
 faint from it. And there's a breezy spot there. I'll be 
 hanged if I'll operate in that part. I called out to some 
 chaps the other night that they would just have to take 
 their papers to Kingdom Come without my signature 
 [laughs'] . 
 
 3D Officer. Oh, I say, now. That's not square. 
 Whose business is it? 
 
 1ST Officer. Really, I don't know. You'd have to 
 write to the War Office at home, and that would start a 
 pow-pow from now till doomsday. It's rotten asking 
 questions in England; it leads nowhere. 
 
 Lord Stratford [adjusting his glasses] . Ah, I think 
 I see a flight of birds coming over the hill. 
 
 A group of tired and abashed-looking women are seen 
 coming towards the hospital. There are a few men 
 in attendance. Major Sillery and Lord Strat- 
 ford go forward to meet them and try to single out 
 Miss Nightingale. They see Mr. and Mrs. 
 Bracebridge, who are a little in advance of the 
 others, and decide Mrs. Bracebridge must be 
 Miss Nightingale. 
 Lord Stratford [aside to Major Sillery]. The 
 bird has caught her mate on the voyage over. The de- 
 nouement comes even sooner than I anticipated.
 
 6o FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 They step forward and bow to Mrs. Bracebridge. 
 
 Major Sillery. '] 
 
 Lord Stratford.} ^'^^ Nightingale? 
 
 Mr. Bracebridge [quickly]. No, Sillery; you should 
 know me. I'm only five years older, you know, than 
 when we last met. Perhaps you find Mrs. Bracebridge 
 too young? 
 
 Major Sillery [shaking hands with them delight- 
 edly^. I am glad to see you both. [Turning to Lord 
 Stratford.] These are Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge, old 
 friends of mine. Bracebridge, our Ambassador, Lord 
 Stratford. 
 
 Lord Stratford [bows over Mrs. Bracebridge's hand 
 and to Mr. Bracebridge]. We met at Herbert's two 
 years ago. I recall a delightful week there. [To Mrs. 
 Bracebridge.] Lady Stratford will be charmed when 
 she hears that you have come. She was terribly con- 
 cerned that Miss Nightingale might arrive unchaperoned. 
 But, pardon me, where is your lieutenant. Miss Nightin- 
 gale? [He looks questioningly at the women in the 
 background.'] 
 
 Mrs. Bracebridge [laughing]. Say our General, not 
 our Lieutenant, Lord Stratford. She is coming on the 
 instant. She remained behind at the landing to see about 
 some important luggage. 
 
 Mr. Bracebridge. We are all under Miss Nightin- 
 gale's orders. She comes to try this new venture of
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 6i 
 
 women nurses for the army with absolute authority from 
 Government. 
 
 Lord Stratford [coldly^. And you, Bracebridge? 
 Will you remain with us? 
 
 Mr. Bracebrddge. Yes, I am courtier, secretary, 
 man-of-all-the-work she will permit, to Miss Nightingale. 
 And my wife is quite as willing to slave for her. You will 
 be at once impressed by her. 
 
 Lord Stratford [^smUes cynically']. Ah, I am sure. 
 But is that Miss Nightingale I see approaching? 
 Mr. Bracebridge [turns']. Yes. 
 Florence Nightingale is seen coming slowly up the 
 hill. She looks at the stretcher-bearers and their 
 burdens as they pass, at the wounded men upon the 
 ground, at the general disorder and misery, with 
 keen, attentive eyes. As she approaches the group 
 of nurses and officers, the minor surgeons and of- 
 ficers involuntarily move back to give her audience 
 with Major Sillery and Lord Stratford. Miss 
 Nightingale looks very quietly at the group with, 
 unconsciously, the manner of a courteous general 
 reviewing a new regiment. Lord Stratford recog- 
 nizes the eye of one used to command, and is irrir 
 pressed in spite of his prejudices. Major Sillery 
 is a little awed. They both advance to meet her 
 and bow. She looks gravely from one to the other. 
 Major Sillery. I am glad to welcome you. Miss 
 Nightingale. I am Sillery.
 
 62 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Miss Nightingale [smiles as she gives her hand]. 
 My Chief. You will find that I understand obedience. 
 I am very really yours to command. [Tttrns to Lord 
 Stratford,] I am sure that I am speaking to Lord 
 Stratford, our Ambassador. You will find [she laughs] 
 that I know how to beg. There is no limit to one who 
 has been a successful beggar all her life. 
 
 Lord Stratford. I have come to tell you that I have 
 instructions to give every assistance in my power. Seen 
 for the first time, this must seem a beautiful part of the 
 world to you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [with a look of displeasure]. I 
 think God may well be pleased with His part of the 
 world. But [looking about the ground] , we seem to 
 have made a sorry mess of it. 
 
 Lord Stratford [irritably]. Dear lady, this is war. 
 We are not off shooting in Scotland, you know. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looking about at the wounded]. 
 No. The huntsman is careful of his game. [Turning to 
 Major Sillery.] May I take my nurses and put them 
 where they will cause least inconvenience? In a few 
 hours I hope to show you that every one is more com- 
 fortable and has less care because we are here. 
 
 Major Sillery. Your work is in your own hands. 
 You will have every assistance from me. [He looks a 
 little askance at Lord Stratford, but continues firmly.] 
 If you find your work here too severe, I will endeavor
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 63 
 
 to make it lighter. If you feel that you cannot endure 
 the discomforts I shall let you return to England re- 
 gretfully — but always with gratitude for the noble im- 
 pulse that brought you and your nurses out. 
 
 Lord Stratford looks horribly bored, puts in his eye- 
 glass and watches the distant horizon. 
 
 Young Officer \_aside to another^. We know now 
 who's General of this hospital. Old Sillery has got tight 
 hold of her apron strings. Isn't he a blithering ass? 
 But my word, hasn't she an eye? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. With your cooperation and the 
 cooperation of these gentlemen, {she looks at the group 
 of surgeons and officers with a sweet, serious, searching 
 glance that forces the eyes of each one to look into hers] 
 we shall not fail. It is from lack of cooperation that most 
 plans fall fallow— unless the plans are contrary to the 
 will of God. If necessary, I can draw on private funds. 
 
 Lord Stratford [ignoring her hauteur to himself, and 
 impressed by her personality]. Do not hesitate to call 
 on me; we really have all we need, and there will be no 
 necessity for you to draw upon private funds. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. That is tremendously encourag- 
 ing. Then, of course, [to Major Sillery] there are 
 plenty of sheets and pillow cases and all the bare neces- 
 sities for these poor men. 
 
 Major Sillery. I regret to say we haven't a dozen 
 sheets at our disposal; and there are more than seventeen
 
 64 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 hundred men. I suppose the idea is that when you can't 
 do for all you had better do for none. We are getting on 
 with literally nothing at all. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [to Lord Stratford]. Yet you 
 say you have all we need. 
 
 Lord Stratford. This is the first time I have heard 
 all this, Sillery. 
 
 Major Sillery. It's most regrettable. I don't know 
 whose business it is. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [earnestly'] . May I make it mine 
 from now on? 
 
 Major Sillery. With all my heart, yes. 
 
 Young Officer [aside to another] . Now isn't he an 
 ass? It's a good thing he did not say head, for he 
 hasn't any to give. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. With your permission, we will 
 now go into the hospital, dispose ourselves, and take 
 stock of the needs of the wounded. Must these poor 
 fellows remain on the ground? 
 
 Major Sillery. For the moment, yes. We are 
 packed almost to the inch, but a number will die off in 
 the night. 
 
 A messenger comes and hands a note to Major 
 Sillery. He reads it and looks terribly annoyed. 
 
 Major Sillery. The Andes is here off land with 
 five hundred and forty wounded consigned to this hos- 
 pital. What we are to do with them, I don't know.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 6S 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I will go with you at once into 
 the hospital and we will do our best. Lord Stratford, 
 will you kindly accompany us? 
 
 Lord Stratford. If you will excuse me 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Impossible \^and she includes in 
 a glance all the others standing about] . Lord Stratford, 
 we can not have you reproach us again with the fact that 
 you have not been made aware of this situation. The 
 situation here [she looks about the courtyard] is evi- 
 dent. Major Sillery, will you lead the way? Lord 
 Stratford and I will follow. SeHna [to Mrs. Brace- 
 bridge], will you bring in the nurses? 
 
 Lord Stratford with much ill hunwr goes forward 
 with Miss Nightingale and the others follow. 
 
 Young Surgeon [who has been watching them as 
 they go under the entrance, turning to another surgeon] . 
 She got Stratford very cleverly. How he must hate her! 
 For my part I respect her. And old Sillery's hers, mind 
 and soul. He knows a superior officer when he meets one. 
 
 Another Surgeon. She knows her business. She 
 will keep those women in order. With that wonderful 
 eye and manner she ought to be a general. 
 
 Surgeon. Hasn't she an eyes and a manner? Did you 
 see her smile at one of those poor devils on a stretcher? 
 I'd rather have her smile than her frown. Heavens! [he 
 draws closer his cloak]. It gets damp here as night 
 comes on.
 
 66 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Lord Stratford \^com€s out of the hospital walking 
 very fast; they all salute.'] Ugh! I never smelt such a 
 stench in my life! \_Goes out.] 
 
 1ST Surgeon. Stratford is in a nasty temper. 
 
 2D Surgeon. Miss Nightingale can match it, I'll 
 wager. 
 
 1ST Surgeon. No, I think she has a just temper. 
 That's the kind that brings obedience. I shan't mind 
 calling her my Chief. 
 
 2D Surgeon. Lord Stratford will laugh and say you 
 are in for a flirtation. 
 
 1ST Surgeon. He is not such an ass as that. Miss 
 Nightingale is out of reach in that way. Even Stratford 
 would know that. 
 
 Night becomes darker. One of the nurses comes out, 
 approaches the surgeons, curtsies. 
 
 Nurse. Miss Nightingale begs that you will spare 
 her a few minutes, if convenient; and could you kindly 
 let her have all the orderlies not on important duties. 
 
 1ST Surgeon. Very good. 
 
 2D Surgeon. I will go fetch the orderlies. 
 
 They both follow the nurse into the hospital. 
 
 Wounded Soldier [trying to draw himself into a dif- 
 ferent position, calls out to another, lying at a little dis- 
 tance']. Comrade, you of the 12 th there — before I get 
 out of sound— will you remember my name? 'Tis Jack 
 Stump from Cambridgeshire. There's an old woman and
 
 .FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 67 
 
 a lame lad, and there^s a horse — God! wot a borsel 
 Tell the lad I got six wounds, and tell the old woman 
 I'd give Heaven for a bit of ale and a puddin' on the 
 settle by the fire. That horse were — that horse were 
 mine, I tell ye. Do you hear me, you of the 12 th. I 
 wants to see him [^he begins to sob']. 
 
 2D Soldier {lying near a stretcher] . I hear you, man. 
 It^s queer now. I was thinking of some rabbits, and 
 I've got a wife and IVe got a child, but I'm thinking 0' 
 them rabbits. What do you make out of that now? 
 
 3D Soldier [on the stretcher]. Damned if I know. 
 I'd like to eat one; my stomach's all right if my leg is off. 
 Say, you there, what's that smell from over yonder? 
 
 2D Soldier. 'Tis the dead bodies. They'll have to 
 bury them here, sure enough. 
 
 An Old Man [lying on the ground]. I've been 
 thinking here now these two hours as I'd rather they 
 left me here than put me there [pointing to the bar- 
 racks]. The rats ain't so oncoming here, and it don't 
 stink so heavy. Now the lady's come, we'll get a bit of 
 soup. She's a straightener, she won't stand for no dirt — 
 I knows her sort. 
 
 3D Soldier [on stretcher] . She looked at me. I don't 
 know how she knew I had sent in my papers — but she 
 did. 
 
 4TH Soldier. If she ain't the Blessed Virgin, she's 
 her twin. She looked at me and I felt holy. I could 
 smell the incense in the old church at home.
 
 68 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 5TH Soldier. Holy you! I knew I was going to get 
 my food when she looked at me. I smelt food. 
 
 Young Boy. She's beautiful, and so cold and still. 
 My fever went when she looked at me. 
 
 Stretcher-beaher [who has been killing vernun in 
 Ms hair]. Here in the night I know 'taint natural, the 
 way she saw each one of us. Something tells me 'taint 
 natural. 
 
 3D Soldier [to tiie wounded boy] . 'Tis queer, now. I 
 was sodden cold, and the lady when she looked at me 
 made me feel warm; and you're burning hot and she made 
 you feel cool. As you think of it, 'taint natural. 
 
 Wounded Boy. It's strange how one minds the night 
 more'n the day. 'Taint cause it's cold. Can't be too 
 cold for me, I'm burning up; but 'tis lonely. Them stars 
 now, they are the darndest lonely things going; and the 
 lady is as far off and cold as them; but I'm not all 
 alone since she looked at me. 
 
 Old Soldier. The boy's flighty. He was alius read- 
 ing poems in the papers before the fever got him. The 
 lady will make things right. I know the look o' her 
 sert. She's a straightener, like my missus. 
 
 4TH Soldier. Blow up, you old ass! — like your missus 
 indeed! She's the Blessed Virgin. When a man's sent 
 in his papers, he knows what's natural — and what's not. 
 
 Boy. I feel her coming. 
 
 3D Soldier. God! There she is in the door! Now is 
 that natural?
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 69 
 
 Florence Nightingale and Major Sillery enter 
 and stand in the hospital doorway. She has a lan- 
 tern swung over her arm. Her figure is more than 
 usually erect, her face very pale, her mouth rather 
 sternly set. As she looks down on the dying and 
 dead and wounded, a wonderful tenderness comes 
 over her face, breaking the line of the mouth into a 
 smile of pitiful tenderness. 
 Miss Nightingale. My children, my sons! I am 
 straining them to my heart, but my head shall think 
 clearly for them. So many, so many, already slaughtered, 
 —because we didn't care! In warmth and comfort, we 
 prayed and talked and slept,— while [she points to the 
 courtyard^ these agonized. 
 
 She goes down into the courtyard. The soldiers have 
 
 become as silent as the dead and watch her with 
 
 their souls in their eyes. 
 
 Major Sillery. Miss Nightingale, go rest. You have 
 
 already done the work of a genius, but you are human 
 
 and need rest. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Ah, rest? [Pointing to a pile 
 of corpses.'] When and how did they rest? And look 
 at this courtyard— the men uncomplaining in their cour- 
 age, their agony. Look at that boy— so near his end, 
 I hope. Shall I rest while these patient lips are dry 
 for water? 
 Major Sillery. Dear Miss Nightingale, there are
 
 70 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 hundreds like that. Your cup can reach only a very 
 few. Do you believe in miracles? 
 
 Miss Nightingale \with a little sad scorn]. Not 
 over much, my friend. I believe in common sense, backed 
 by common humanity ; in forethought ; in a sane prepara- 
 tion for what you know is coming. Why should God 
 perform a miracle for those too lazy to use the tools He 
 has given them? I take my heart in my hands and hold 
 it to keep it from breaking all bounds with rage when I 
 think of those men murdered by wilful sloth. Nine 
 deaths out of ten were preventable and you hadn*t the 
 means to prevent them. Why? Because everything is 
 everybody's business and nothing is anybody's business. 
 Our soldiers have enlisted to death in the barracks. 
 
 Major Sillery. You wring my heart, Miss Nightin- 
 gale, but you strengthen my hands. Things will be 
 better now. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Yes, things will be better. We 
 are not powerless. Lord Stratford dare not pretend igno- 
 rance now. I held him steadily to a confession of weak- 
 ness over the most stinking part of the hospital, into 
 which, shame upon him! he had never been before. He 
 tried to escape, but I held him and now he knows how 
 it smells. He said: "Miss Nightingale, this air is un- 
 wholesome." I pointed to the hundreds of wounded and 
 dying and said: "They seem to find it so — they are 
 even dying from it" I He answered: "Well, there is no 
 necessity for us to die." I took my tablet and said:
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 71 
 
 "I will write at once to the War Office that Lord Strat- 
 ford found the stench of the hospital unsupportable.'* 
 At that, he shrugged his shoulders and went, but he 
 knows that he has to reckon with us, for you nobly- 
 backed me, whose only cause in life is the comfort and 
 safety of our troops. You feel with me? We work to- 
 gether? 
 
 Major Sillery. With all my heart I feel with you! 
 But I work under you. You are very wonderful. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Merely an old-fashioned good 
 housekeeper, with the habit of order and system — two 
 very ordinary nags. Anyone can drive them. But our 
 house has been built over a sewer; it is filled with vermin 
 and rats; our sick children are packed in rows on the 
 floor without cots, or clothes, or sheets, or food, for them ; 
 so we shall have to drive our nags with swiftness and 
 precision. We must have first a lot of carpenters to 
 build outhouses — a laundry before all. With your cause 
 and mine the same I do not despair, even in the face of 
 the tragedy at my feet. [^She looks again broodingly 
 over the ground.'] How dark the night! How silent 
 these poor sufferers! 
 
 Major Sillery. Yes, poor devils! But they will 
 have cause to bless you. I wish I could stay and help 
 you, but I should go and look after the wounded from 
 the Andes. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Yes, go. I am glad of your 
 friendship.
 
 72 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Major Sillery goes out. Miss Nightingale goes 
 toward a wounded soldier, puts the lantern down 
 beside him and, leaning over, lifts his head a little 
 and touches his lips with some mixture which she 
 carries. He smiles wistfully at her. 
 Wounded Soldier. Did him of the 12th tell my lame 
 lad how many wounds I had? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. The little lad will know soon. 
 They are playing at soldiers in the j&elds of England, and 
 your little lad will be the proudest of the children. 
 
 His breathing grows deeper, now labored. His eyes 
 lose consciousness. Miss Nightingale places him 
 gently down. She goes to another whose eyes have 
 drawn her to him. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. What is it, my friend? 
 
 Soldier. I have five children, ma'am. I was think- 
 ing of them, but the pain is cruel. 
 
 Miss Nightingale {takes a tablet from a small bottle 
 and puts it into his mouth]. That will ease the pain, 
 dear friend. [She puts her hand under his shirt collar 
 and draws out a crucifix attached to a ribbon and puts 
 it into his hand.] Christ, so lonely and tortured here, so 
 glorious in Heaven to-day. Your children and I will be 
 drawn upward always by your pain and brave patience. 
 Sleep now, in peace! 
 
 She goes to the wounded boy who has been following 
 her every movement with longing.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 73 
 
 Boy. Mother had something that would have helped 
 my side. {He puts his hand to his side.] But I am not 
 a baby. I don't want to trouble you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [with infinite tenderness takes his 
 head in her hands]. You are my baby. IThe boy's 
 face breaks into a smile and his head falls back.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale. It is over with him, poor lad. 
 [She takes a pair of scissors and cuts a little of his hair. 
 She kisses his forehead lightly. Taking his arm to place 
 it over his breast, she looks at it with burning anger.] 
 Starvation! Oh, God! how quickly can I act so as to 
 prevent this from happening to another lad? 
 
 A Soldier [lying nearby, looks up at her]. You will 
 not leave us? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Every night, every night, I will 
 see my sons. That much joy of love I may have. 
 [Reverently she looks over the ground and into the up- 
 lifted faces of the soldiers, who a:re all straining to sed 
 her, to catch a word from her. She says in her clear and 
 beautiful voice, breaking the silence like music] : "He 
 who loseth his life shall find it," but [she draws herself 
 ^^] but— for those who let them die from shiftlessness— 
 what shall be said? 
 
 Slowly she passes from one to another, the men fol- 
 lowing her with their eyes. The darkness deepens, 
 until only the glimmer of her lantern is seen. 
 [Curtain.]
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Grounds about the hospital. Everything is in great 
 confusion, but there are no wounded lying around. 
 On one side a bit of canvas is stretched on poles; 
 under it is a large washtub, and near that a fire over 
 which hangs a pot for boiling water. On the other 
 side of the hospital are planks and workmen. Ma- 
 terials litter the ground. A number of boxes have been 
 put near the hospital door waiting to be opened. A 
 nurse is working at the tub, an Orderly standing near 
 her. A number of orderlies, soldiers, and nurses are 
 passing about. 
 
 Nurse [who is leaning over the washtub, stands up, 
 wrings out some shirts and throws them over to one side, 
 turns to Orderly] . Unless we have a laundry soon we'll 
 all be dead. 
 
 Orderly. Trying to do too much, that's the way with 
 the ladies — exactly six shirts a month we had till you 
 ladies came. Now I'm damned if Miss Nightingale 
 don't want every soldier in the Army to have a clean one 
 once a month. It's not reasonable, — gives them quinsy 
 to change so often. 
 
 74
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 75 
 
 Nurse. Every soldier is to have a clean shirt a day. 
 Oh, Lord, I'm tired. Why can't she let xis rest a bit? 
 Angel! Oh, yes, I know about angels! And look at 
 the mess on these grounds! All the cleaners in London 
 couldn't straighten it. 
 
 Orderly. I was just thinking as I'd never seen the 
 damn place so pretty — but you see I'm looking at you. 
 
 Nurse. Go along with you! What's pretty in a 
 clothes wringer? [She gives a scream and jumps on the 
 bench by the tub.^ Look! [Pointing to a big rat run- 
 ning by.^ 
 
 The Orderly seizes a broom and makes a dash for it. 
 
 A number of other rats go by and orderlies and 
 
 nurses chase them, some laughing, some frightened. 
 
 Enter Dr. Sutherland and officials. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [looking at the boxes^. The cotton 
 
 and flannel are in these boxes, and the men all suffering 
 
 for them, and there seems no way to get them opened. 
 
 Literally, lives will be lost if they are not opened. What 
 
 can be done? Oh! there is Miss Nightingale. 
 
 Miss Nightingale is seen coming from the left wing 
 
 of the hospital; as she walks towards them she is 
 
 evidently taking note of the grounds. 
 Dr. Sutherland and the officials move forward to 
 
 meet her. She stops and looks questioningly at 
 
 them.
 
 76 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. We are discussing these boxes; in 
 them are the stores we need, literally to save life, and 
 they can't be opened for at least two weeks. There is 
 such a lot of invisible red tape around then;. Too bad, 
 too bad. But there's nothing to be done. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looks at him in amazement]. 
 Nothing to be done! The stores here, the wounded there! 
 [pointing to the hospital]. Nothing to be done? Open 
 the boxes! 
 
 Official. Impossible, Madam. Lady Stratford will, 
 I am sure, bring it before Lord Stratford, but it will have 
 to be brought before certainly six others before we have 
 permission to open the boxes. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. You do not dare open those boxes? 
 
 Official. Impossible, Madam. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. And you. Dr. Sutherland, are 
 willing to see your patients die, so shackled are you by 
 the invisible red tape. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. I'm powerless! 'Tis really too bad 
 but law is law. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [stoops and takes up a hatchet 
 lying near her] . Gentlemen, be good enough to put the 
 responsibility on me. [She breaks open first one box, 
 then another. To Dr. Sutherland.] I suppose now 
 that the boxes are opened, you will not be afraid to take 
 the contents to your sick? Speak! Are you?. If so, I 
 will take them myself.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 77 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. I^m grateful, Miss Nightingale — 
 and ashamed. 
 
 Official. Miss Nightingale, I think you have done 
 wrong. Already the authorities feel that you overstepped 
 your right when you engaged two hundred workmen on 
 your own responsibility and paid for them out of your 
 own private purse. Civilians never understand army 
 regulations. We must report these things to headquar- 
 ters. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. We are warned that eight hun- 
 dred additional sick and wounded are coming to Scutari. 
 Which is important, that men should live or red tape 
 be observed? Gentlemen, report it to the people of 
 England, and see what they think. 
 
 A woman approaches them in a state of great excite- 
 ment; she has been crying and is carrying in her 
 hand a nurse's bonnet. They all look at her in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Nurse. I came out, ma'am, prepared to submit to 
 everything, to be put upon in every way. But there 
 are some things, ma'am, one won't submit to. Here's this 
 cap, ma'am! [holding it out as though it might bite her]. 
 If the good Lord had meant me to wear such a thing He 
 would have made me different. Ugh! And if I'd known, 
 ma'am, about the caps, great as was my desire to come 
 out and nurse at Scutari, I wouldn't have come.
 
 78 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Miss Nightingale breaks into a gay laugh, the nurse 
 looks offended. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looks kindly at her]. There, 
 there, Nurse Jones, don't feel hurt. We will talk about 
 the caps; but cap or no cap, we couldn't do without you 
 in the wards. I am writing home that I count you one of 
 my best nurses. [The nurse hangs her head.] Go, 
 Nurse. I can't talk to you now, because a number of 
 amputations are soon to be gone through. I'm afraid 
 the men mind losing their legs as much as you mind your 
 cap. Of course you don't like that cap, but I want you 
 to help me. Nurse. 
 
 Jones. Indeed, ma'am, I'd give my life for you. But 
 I won't wear that cap. [She goes off imping her eyes 
 with the cap. Miss Nightingale, Dr. Sutherland, 
 and the officials laugh.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale. A very capable nurse. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [whimsically] . She indulges in cut- 
 ting red tape. 
 
 Miss NiGHTiNALE laughs and turns and moves off 
 toward another part of the grounds. 
 
 Official. The Nightingale power will come to an 
 end. You know Mr. Herbert is here. He has brought 
 some more women nurses and I think he will remind Miss 
 Nightingale that the War Office exists. He will remind 
 her that she is here to train nurses, not to alter build- 
 ings; in short, not to be the Commandant of the hospital.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 79 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. The War Office had better take 
 heed. The people of England are backing Miss Nightin- 
 gale. What she did the first day she came seemed a 
 miracle, and since then every day she works a greater 
 one. But she will not like the additional nurses. I would 
 not be in Mr. Herbert's boots for a great deal. He should 
 not have brought additional nurses over until she asked 
 for them. 
 
 Official. Does she know that Mr. Herbert is here? 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. No, I must tell her. [To an or- 
 derly.'] Take these boxes to Miss Nightingale's room. 
 She will distribute the contents. [He turns from the 
 official, who walks off, and he approaches Miss Night- 
 ingale who is speaking with a nurse. Miss Night- 
 ingale looks up as he approaches her.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Have you sent the boxes to my 
 room? 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. Yes, I gave word to carry them 
 over. Your nurses are becoming very efficient. You 
 have had a difficult task organizing them. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Yes, but fortunately the number 
 I am beginning with is small. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [looks troubled]. I am afraid you 
 will not be altogether pleased, but the work you did here 
 in a few days has been so great that Mr. Herbert followed 
 almost immediately, bringing with him forty-seven more 
 nurses. He is on his way to speak to you now. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [in amazement]. Mr. Herbert
 
 8o FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 here? Impossible — you are mistaken — and in regard to 
 nurses, I have his promise that no nurses are to be sent 
 until I write for them. Most assuredly, I want no 
 more. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. That seems wise, but I suppose it 
 was just over-zeal on their part. What you accompUshed 
 at once, fired the country. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [white with anger} . You say that 
 nurses have been sent over? Who could dare take such 
 a step? That it should be Mr. Herbert is absurd. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. But Mr. Herbert is here — indeed 
 he is even now coming, as you see for yourself. I hope 
 he will convince you that the nurses will be a benefit. 
 But where to house them, feed them, place them, is a 
 miracle that you only can solve. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland bows and goes qtdckly away as 
 Mr. Herbert comes nearer. Miss Nightingale 
 waits erect, rigid. Mr. Herbert waves his hand 
 gaily — his face is full of joy. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Here I am with forty-seven nurses for 
 you! [He stops and looks blank as he sees her jace.l 
 Why, Florence! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. And your promise, your written 
 word! "No one can be sent out until we hear from 
 Miss Nightingale that they have been required.'' That 
 is what you put in the papers. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. But, Florence, I thought that as more
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 8i 
 
 wounded came you would want more nurses. We heard 
 of Balaclava. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Had I the enormous folly at the 
 end of eleven days' experience to require more women, 
 would it not seem that you, as statesman, should have 
 said, 'Wait until you see your way better" — but I made 
 no such request. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Florence, think a moment! Perhaps 
 you will see it in a different light. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I have toiled my way into the 
 confidence of the medical men by keeping my hand on 
 every nurse; now to have forty-seven untrained women 
 scampering about means disaster. Every nerve has been 
 strained to reform shocking abuses. We are making a 
 delicate experiment. At the point of success, you ruin it. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. The experiment is as dear to my heart 
 as it is to yours; dearer, for you are concerned in it. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. All women are concerned in it. 
 I hand you my resignation. There can be no divided 
 responsibility. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Florence, I cannot take your resigna- 
 tion, but I can take back all the women I have brought 
 over. 
 
 An Official comes towards them. Mr. Herbert 
 looks impatiently at him. Miss Nightingale looks 
 less haughty, more troubled. 
 
 Official [bowing] . Mr. Herbert, I am commissioned 
 by Lord Stratford to say that he is not responsible for
 
 82 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 the innovations Miss Nightingale has made; and he 
 hopes that the War Office will instruct Miss Nightingale 
 as to the limitations of her power. 
 
 Miss Nightingale passes her hand over her forehead 
 a little wearily. 
 
 Mr. Herbert [fiercely]. Say to Lord Stratford that 
 the War Office puts no limit upon Miss Nightingale's 
 powers. God Himself seems to have made them un- 
 limited. 
 
 Miss Nightingale raises a protesting hand and looks 
 at Mr. Herbert, 
 
 Mr. Herbert [continuing]. Say also to Lord Strat- 
 ford that I have apologized to Miss Nightingale for 
 bringing over nurses without her permission. She has 
 convinced me that they will only add to her many diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 The Official bows and goes out. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Oh, Sidney, Sidney, you are 
 generous. Forgive my awful temper. Look at me. Do 
 you want to make me weep? 
 
 Mr. Herbert. No, Florence; only to make you know 
 how England prizes you, to beg you to suffer our over- 
 zeal patiently. We have done wrong, but 
 
 Miss Nightingale [fervently]. Sidney, there must 
 be no buts in this venture. If it were merely a personal 
 matter we might make mistakes. But it isn't a personal
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 83 
 
 matter. Look about you. This wretched courtyard is 
 only the least of the disorders here. . 
 
 Mr. Herbert [looking about] . It is very shocking. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. If the rats and vermin had a 
 united purpose they could carry the entire hospital into 
 the War Office — ^you and I will do it instead. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Shall I take the women back? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No. I will look them over, sift 
 them out, now that they are here. I will do my best at 
 this end ; but you must go home, Sidney, and work there. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. You do not want me to see how you 
 must try to keep my meddling from being disastrous. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I admit as much generosity as 
 that. But you must work in England, and I here; and 
 one day you will bring before Parliament a bill containing 
 the work of our united lives — and the statements we give 
 shall be true, the remedies vital. I live for that day. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. That day seems far off. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Not so very far off, I believe; 
 and, Sidney, if you could see the passing of my poor 
 soldiers — oh, so many, so many of them — silent, heroic, 
 uncomplaining, in the face of incredible wrongs! To 
 serve them is my life. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. And mine to serve them through you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looks searchingly at him]. 
 Through God, you mean. 
 
 Mr. Herbert. Through you. 
 [Ct{rtain]
 
 A period of six months intervenes between the second 
 and third scenes. Miss Nightingale has been to 
 the front where she contracted a severe illness, and 
 is now being brought back to Scutari. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Grounds before the Barracks Hospital. Everything is 
 clean and in order. A large tent on the left side of 
 the hospital has been put up with chairs and tables 
 and books for the soldiers* recreation. To the right 
 of the hospital is seen a laundry, and decent-looking 
 men and women are passing to and fro. A number of 
 soldiers on crutches are wandering about. An excited- 
 looking group of officials is standing at the entrance. 
 Major Sillery has a letter in his hand. The others 
 listen with anxious faces. 
 
 Major Sillery. How can we tell the men? They 
 think her superhuman — and she is. The news is grave. 
 She has so spent her body on us here and in the Crimea 
 that there will be no resistance left against the disease. 
 The boat brmging her back to us is within sight; her 
 coming will rouse the men. But if they bring her in 
 dead — if they bring her in dead — or too ill to know us, 
 
 84
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 8S 
 
 the men will weep like babes over a mother's dried 
 breasts. 
 
 Official. We shall all go back to the devil of a mess 
 she found us in. She has put things on a right founda- 
 tion, but the fools won't keep them there if she goes 
 to earth. 
 
 A Surgeon. You don't take enough into considera- 
 tion, Major Sillery, that the news comes to us very late, 
 and the fact that she is being brought here must mean a 
 convalescence of some order. We catch the word of 
 England's mad grief about her, but at the same time we 
 must realize that she has recovered enough to be moved. 
 She was on the mend unquestionably. What the voyage 
 will do, that of course, is another matter. 
 
 Major Sillery. The men have just heard the news. 
 Ah, see, they, too, have gone mad. What a woman I 
 What a woman I 
 
 An excited crowd collects in the pavilion. Numbers 
 turn their heads away to hide emotion. A Surgeon 
 comes out from the hospital. 
 
 Surgeon. It's hell in the wards. The men have 
 turned their faces to the wall and weep. One man said, 
 "I always kissed her shadow as she passed." The priest 
 said, "Kiss your crucifix," but he only wept. I told them 
 that she was to be brought here, and some of them 
 begged that they might crawl out to the landing and 
 meet her there, and they said if she was dead they would
 
 86 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 open their wounds and die too. I tell you it is the very 
 devil — and these men are Englishmen. 
 
 Major Sillery. If she should be translated to 
 heaven before their eyes^ they would not be surprised; 
 and for myself, I should not either. No one knows so 
 well as I the order she brought out of chaos in six months' 
 time. No mortal could have done it alone. God was 
 mightily with her. 
 
 An Old Surgeon. You understand that side, but I 
 know how the men felt. She is the very tenderest 
 creature God ever made. 
 
 A Young Surgeon. She could be sharp enough! 
 When some one suggested using the carpenters to build a 
 chapel, my word, but she was angry! She said: "When 
 you see men dying for want of a diet kitchen you suggest 
 a chapel? What would you say to God in that chapel 
 when you had left His children to starve? 
 
 Old Surgeon. She is a strange being, gentle and 
 strong, with the clearest mind I ever knew. 
 
 Messenger approaches. The crowd gather about the 
 officials, all imploring with their eyes for news. 
 
 Major Slllery [turns to the soldiers and speaks with 
 emotion']. Patients and servants of Florence Nightin- 
 gale 
 
 A Soldier [jrom the crowd in a broken voice]. She 
 called us her children. 
 
 Major Sillery. Children of Florence Nightingale! 
 The ship bringing our dear lady is now near the dock.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 87 
 
 She is being brought back ill. She, like you, has been 
 to the battlefields; like you she has suffered and will be 
 brought in on a stretcher to this door where she has met 
 so many of you. None of us is worthy to carry that 
 stretcher when she is brought back to this place which 
 she changed from a pit of degrading death to a merciful 
 home — a true hospital. All of us can testify to the 
 miracle she wrought in six months. What this place was 
 when she came to us you know. What it is to-day, you 
 know. To whom shall I give the honor of carrying her 
 stretcher? 
 
 A Soldier [saluting] . Pardon, sir, but the lady always 
 had a fancy for giving the best to the weakest. We 
 who have done our last fighting, might lift her up. It 
 would be a great last glory for us. \_He salutes and 
 retires.'] 
 
 Young Boy \_steps forward and salutes']. Begging 
 your pardon, sir, but I think she likes us young ones to 
 have the most honor, because she said we had the worst 
 of it as we had not learned patience — begging your par- 
 don, it was something like that. [He salutes and re- 
 tires.] 
 
 Another Soldier [steps forward and salutes]. Beg- 
 ging your pardon, sir, but I and five others were tossed 
 off by the surgeons as too far gone to be worried over 
 by them, and she took us and nursed us herself — and 
 here we are, all six of us, ready to carry our lady. 
 
 Major Sillery. The honor of carrying Miss Night-
 
 88 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 ingale's stretcher shall be given first to the youngest. 
 They will carry it for a short distance, and then it will 
 pass to six other soldiers for a few moments, and so on, 
 until as many as possible have carried it a few steps. 
 When it reaches the hospital entrance, then the hopeless 
 cases may take the stretcher. The same order will be 
 carried out with Miss Nightingale's luggage. We must 
 start for the pier; the boat is in sight. Greet her with 
 the hymn she loves so well. 
 
 The party start in the order of precedence. A num- 
 ber of nurses gather and range themselves on either 
 side of the entrance; with them are the orderlies and 
 the soldiers too badly injured or in too early a stage 
 of convalescence to be allowed off the grounds. 
 There is much talking among them and all seem 
 uitder a great strain. 
 1ST Soldier. God! she is coming. 
 2D Soldier. Let us kneel. 
 1ST Soldier. Stand up, man. She's no papist. 
 2D Soldier. Ah, but she never scoffed at the papists, 
 heathen you! She spoke well of all creeds; to do that 
 was simple Christian, she said. 
 
 3D Soldier. When I was all spent with cold and 
 hunger and vermin, and the surgeons said they were going 
 to cut off my legs, I begged to be let die; and then I 
 looked and saw our lady standing there, white and 
 glorious, holding her hands tight, and her mouth set, for 
 my pain. God! I kept my eyes on her and I was
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 89 
 
 happy. She stood there through it all breathing almost 
 for me. 
 
 Micsic is heard, grows louder. 
 A Soldier. Hush, hush, men! she's coming. 
 A crowd slowly approaches. Miss Nightingale on 
 a stretcher is being carried in advance. The sol- 
 diers, nurses, officials, and all stand aside as the 
 hopeless cases lift the stretcher through the hospital 
 entrance. Miss Nightingale opens her eyes, leans 
 forward and looks at the crowd, first with amaze- 
 ment, then as she sees the soldiers weeping in their 
 fear for her and joy in having her, her face lightens 
 with a great gladness. 
 Miss Nightingale [speaking very clearly]. Why, 
 my soldiers, what have I done that you should be so glad 
 to have me? 
 
 1ST Soldier. Only saved us body and soul. They 
 ought to have made you a general. If they had, we 
 would be in Sebastopol now. 
 
 2D Soldier. Nay, man, if her blessed Majesty should 
 die, we'll make her Queen. Sure, but we'd fight for her! 
 Miss Nightingale. It's good to be home! It's good 
 to be home! God bless you, my soldiers. But it's I who 
 will fight for you. Ah, how I will fight! I stand at 
 the altar of the murdered men, and while I live I will 
 fight their cause. 
 
 [Curtain]
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Drawing room in Mr. Nightingale's London house. 
 HoRTON and a maid are busy arranging flowers. 
 There is a large window through which can be seen 
 flags flying; and every now and then the music of a 
 band is heard as it stops and plays before the house, 
 and a sound of voices as if a crowd were assembling. 
 Lady Verney and Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale come 
 in, looking very excited and all talking at once. 
 
 Lady Verney. What can be the matter! Where can 
 Florence be? I am so frightened about her. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. We know she landed and now 
 the whole town has turned out to meet her — and she is 
 not there. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. The whole town! I should say 
 so, with the Lord Mayor at their head, and just about 
 all the British army; and I don't know where she is. 
 \^He waves his hands in despair.'] 
 
 Lady Verney. What shall we do? 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. I must say it is a bit alarming. 
 
 Horton [entering]. Lord Herbert. 
 90
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 91 
 
 Lord Herbert comes in; he is looking very worn and 
 
 m. 
 
 Lady Verney [running to meet him']. Sidney, where 
 is she? 
 Lord Herbert. I don't know. Isn't she here? 
 Lady Verney. No, we've not seen her. — Sidney, 
 where can she be? 
 
 Lord Herbert. What can have happened? The 
 whole city is in an uproar waiting for her. I could 
 hardly make my way here through the crowds. Every 
 soldier's mother, sister, brother, father, are crowding the 
 station just to see her. You can't imagine the excitement 
 and the disappointment. 
 Lady Verney wrings her hands; Mr. Nightingale 
 gets up and walks up and down the room. A band 
 stops before the house and plays the national an- 
 them. All with one accord go to the windows; as 
 they do so, a door at the far end of the room opens 
 and Miss Nightingale comes quietly in. She 
 walks with her usual dignity and erect carriage, but 
 very slowly, and she shows the strain that she has 
 been under. She looks about her with smiling eyes; 
 and when she sees the group at the window she 
 clasps her hand over her heart and steals towards 
 them. 
 Miss Nightingale. My people! My dear people! 
 They turn and rush towards her; Lady Verney 
 reaches her first and throws her arms about her.
 
 92 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale kisses her, Mr. Nightingale 
 pushes them away and, taking her gently hy the 
 shoulders, holds her off from him for a moment 
 while he looks searchingly into her face; then he 
 draws her head to his shoulder and leans his face 
 down upon her; he then turns away wiping his eyes, 
 HoRTON and the maid come in, showing great de- 
 light. Lord Herbert stands apart, looking at 
 Miss Nightingale with wistful, longing devotion. 
 She turns and looks at him and holds out both her 
 hands; he goes to her and takes her hands in his 
 and stoops and kisses them. 
 Lady Verney. Oh, our Florence! Our Florence! 
 But we must wait till to-night to have you. Hurry, dear 
 heart, to the window; the band is playing for you. Oh, 
 where have you been? Quick! Show yourself at the 
 window and let the people know that you are here. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [putting out her hand to stop 
 her]. No, no, Parthe dear. I can't — I really can't. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. My child, I'm sure you don't 
 know that the Lord Mayor and the whole town are out 
 to welcome you home from Scutari. 
 
 Miss Nightingale \_a little shamefacedly']. I am 
 afraid I did know; so I just took an unexpected train 
 and crept quietly back here. [^She pauses and listens to 
 the shouts outside.] Dear me, what a din. London 
 certainly knows how to say "How do you do?"; but it
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 93 
 
 is really their happiness that the whole business is over 
 and not just a welcome to me. That would be too 
 absurd. [She laughs.'] Here, Alice, take my coat." 
 
 The maid runs forward and takes her coat; Miss 
 Nightingale then takes off her bonnet and hands 
 it to the maid, showing her beautiful hair cut close. 
 They all exclaim together. 
 
 Lady Verney. Your hair I Your hair! Oh, my poor 
 love! 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. I had forgotten about your poor 
 hair. You have suffered, my child. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale [trying to look unconcerned]. It 
 looks very jolly, you know, but I must say, my dear, you 
 look as if bed were the place for you. 
 
 Lord Herbert sinks rather weakly down into a chaif 
 near the table. Miss Nightingale goes to Mm. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Why, Sidney, I'm ashamed of 
 you. Do I look so shockingly? 
 
 Lord Herbert. I can't bear to think that I sent you 
 to all this suffering. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Dear Sidney! I believe your 
 task was harder than mine, and certainly you look as if 
 it had overtasked your strength. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Both of you need the same pre- 
 scription, rest. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Rest! Sidney and I rest! And 
 now of all times! We can't, we can't wait a day to turn
 
 94 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 all that enthusiasm outside into money and into new laws 
 that will give hospitals, nursing schools — all that our 
 soldiers hadn't at Scutari. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. The war is over. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No, Sidney and I are going to 
 bring it home and make it visible. 
 
 Lady Verney. Oh, Florence, Florence, to-day — this 
 day of your triumph. Forget all about that — forget 
 ghastly Scutari. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Forget Scutari! Great God! 
 
 Lady Verney. Yes, Florence, Lord Ellesman says that 
 the hospitals are empty and our army is full of sturdy 
 men because of our Angel of Mercy — that's you, dear; 
 that's you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale {interrupting with a gay laugh]. 
 Oh, is it? The old idiot! But go on. What is your 
 Angel of Mercy to do? Die? Or fold her wings and be 
 made a fool of? 
 
 Lady Verney. Never mind. I'm bursting with pride 
 over my angel. Oh, listen to that. \_A band is heard 
 and she runs to the window.'] 
 
 Miss Nightingale \_clasping her hands]. Sidney, 
 Sidney, listen! That means a hospital. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Let Sidney alone, Florence; he 
 should go to bed and stay there a month. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Sidney go to bed! He has to 
 make his speech in four days. You've had all my notes, 
 Sidney? Imagine letting all this enthusiasm go up in
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 95 
 
 smoke! \_Another band is heard. Lady Verney runs 
 again to the window.'] 
 
 Lady Verney. It's the Coldstreams. Oh, Florence, 
 come. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [laughingly]. Not I! But Sid- 
 ney, with such a public our bill must pass and we'll get 
 a hospital for India, too. 
 
 Lord Herbert. I'll do my best. I wish I had your 
 spirit, Florence. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. This will give you spirit. Such 
 an audience as you will have for your speech! [Another 
 band is heard.] 
 
 Lady Verney. Oh Florence! Florence! The Fusi- 
 leers! 
 
 Miss Nightingale [throwing herself back in her 
 chair, clasps her hands behind her head, and looks quiz- 
 zically at Lady Verney]. Oh, Parthe, Parthe, are you 
 ten years old? 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. But, Florence, the people are all 
 crying for you. You ought to be proud, you ought to 
 be grateful. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. I am proud, mama, of my troops. 
 I am grateful to God who has regarded the low estate of 
 His handmaiden. It is handmaidens we want, and more 
 handmaidens. And we'll get them, Sidney. 
 
 Horton [entering] . The Duchess of Blankshire. 
 
 Enter the Duchess in a great state of excitement. 
 
 Duchess. Florence Nightingale, what do you mean
 
 96 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 by hiding yourself in here? The whole country is calling 
 for you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Oh, no, Duchess, not for me; 
 they're rejoicing over the good things that are coming 
 to our brave soldiers. 
 
 Duchess. Don't argue now, Florence; come straight 
 to the window with me. After giving all that money I 
 intend to be seen with you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [sitting down deliberately in a 
 chair] . Not one soul more do I see, nasty as it sounds, 
 until Sidney's speech is delivered in Parliament. We've 
 got only four days before us and we shall have to work 
 day and night. After that, Duchess, we can argue, and I 
 shall want some more use of your purse. But you haven't 
 said, "How do you do?" to me. 
 
 Duchess. I think you are behaving outrageously; 
 you, whom all these poor fellows outside are calling an 
 angel. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [laughing] . Oh, honors are pour- 
 ing in on me. They've named a war horse for me, too. 
 Dear Duchess, don't be cross with me. I simply can't 
 face all those people out there to-day. 
 
 Duchess [impatiently]. William Nightingale, you 
 will just have to put her to bed. We'll say she had a re- 
 lapse; that's the only way out. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. That will do nicely; only don't 
 say that I have lost my mind, for I want to be convincing 
 when I ask for money for reforms.
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 97 
 
 Duchess {haughtily^. It's not at all amusing, Flor- 
 ence. I'm not going to stay and talk to you in your 
 present state of mind. Have them call my carriage. 
 Oh, I forgot I had to leave it because of the crowd — 
 never mind, I'm not going to miss it all even if I have to 
 go on foot. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [with mock repentance]. I am 
 just a shy little body, and not a great duchess. 
 
 Duchess. I have nothing to say to you, Florence. 
 [She goes out with hauteur. All laugh except Mrs. 
 Nightingale, who looks annoyed.'] 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. Do you really mean, Florence, 
 that ill as you are, you are going to continue working 
 with Sidney on this speech? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Mama, I must. Unless this 
 speech is made and our bill passed, all we have done is 
 merely a passing breath. 
 
 Mrs. Nightingale. But the hospitals are empty; the 
 war is over. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. War over! [Her face becomes 
 terribly sad.] Ever since the world began we have said 
 just that. No! In the future, we must be prepared, our 
 hospitals must be ready, our soldiers fit, our nurses 
 trained. Here [she takes a small package from her 
 pocket]. This is a bit of grass I gathered at Inkerman 
 dyed with our soldiers' blood. It is my gift to the 
 War Office. Unless they mend their ways, it will cry 
 out against them at the judgment-seat. Here, Sidney,
 
 98 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 with this bit of grass, and that mad enthusiasm outside, 
 and my notes — facts, facts, facts that I can give you — 
 your speech will carry the House away. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Florence, don't drive Sidney too 
 hard. 
 
 Lord Herbert. No, thank God she is driving me. 
 I might in my weariness forget that our soldiers have 
 been treated like slaves. Florence, you do well to re- 
 proach me. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [^goes to him and puts her hand 
 on his shoulder]. No, Sidney, not reproach for you. 
 You are the very source of all our inspiration. But you 
 feel, as I do, that neither of us may be ill until your 
 speech is made. Then we'll think about it. 
 
 Herbert and Miss Nightingale withdraw somewhat 
 apart. Mrs. Nightingale goes slowly to the win- 
 dow. A band is heard. 
 
 Lady Verney [sits down in a chair and buries her face 
 on her hand]. Oh, Florence, why won't you see them? 
 
 HoRTON [entering, speaks excitedly]. Oh, Miss Flor- 
 ence, the wounded troops from the Crimea are in front 
 of the house and they're begging for a sight of you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [her face full of excited emotion] . 
 My wounded soldiers wanting me and I here whole! Oh, 
 I must see them! 
 
 She rushes to the window and throws it open and 
 looks down upon them; then stands with outstretched 
 arms. A great shouting is heard as she is seen, and
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 99 
 
 in a moment the enormous volume of the military sa- 
 lute is heard. Lady Verney turns and throws her 
 arms about Mrs. Nightingale. Mr. Nightingale 
 stands proudly watching her. Lord Herbert stands 
 erect J then suddenly sits down and leans over, his 
 head bowed as in prayer. 
 
 [Curtaini
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Drawing room in the Nightingale hotise in London. A 
 maid is arranging the room. A Boy comes in with 
 two big bags of mail; they seem very heavy and he 
 drops them to the floor, wiping his forehead with 
 his pocket handkerchief . 
 
 Boy [to the Maid] . Beauty, I wants to ask you if this 
 'ere apartment is the Post Office of the City of London? 
 'Cause if it is, I asks a 'igher wage. 
 
 Maid. Ignorance! I suppose you don't know who 
 Miss Florence Nightingale is? 
 
 Boy. Don't I, though! The whole world knows that. 
 Queens come to see her, and kings. You bet your eye I 
 know that. And it's proper they should pick out the 
 beauty of London to look after her. But don't you let 
 any of them dressed-up servant monkeys they fetch along 
 with the Royalties make eyes at you. I'll punch their 
 'eads off if they do. 
 
 Maid. Listen to the child! Much good my beauty 
 does me. The Royalties have to come here as plain and 
 quiet as tradespeople; not so much as one footman 
 
 100
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE loi 
 
 would she 'low a queen. Put those bags close to that 
 little table there by the couch, and run off like a good boy. 
 The boy puts the bag near the table she indicates, 
 and is about to make some demonstration of dis- 
 tracted affection, when he hears a step; whereupon 
 he kisses his hand to the laughing maid ajid makes a 
 rapid escape. The Maid goes on with her dusting 
 and Lady Verney comes in. 
 Lady Verney. Alicia, stop your dusting and help me 
 arrange the letters. 
 
 The Maid puts down her duster arid begins to help 
 
 Lady Verney to take the mail from the bags. They 
 
 arrange it in piles as neatly as possible on the little 
 
 table. 
 
 Maid. I don't see how Miss Florence stands it, 
 
 ma'am! She so delicate like, too. Each morning I comes 
 
 in and finds her settin' at that table exactly where she 
 
 were settin' when I gives her the pile for the night. And 
 
 she a great lady, too. Where's the use of being a lady, 
 
 ma'am, if you has to work? 
 
 Lady Verney [smiling]. Where's the use indeed! 
 But [listening], I think I hear Dr. Sutherland. Bring 
 him here. 
 
 The Maid goes out. Enter Dr. Sutherland. 
 Lady Verney [looking up at him with a little nod of 
 welcome] . What indefatigable friends Florence possesses. 
 Day in and day out you work for her. [She pauses, looks
 
 102 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 at him quizzically.'] A little like a door-mat, you poor 
 man! Don't be cross; I'm nothing but a proud feather 
 duster. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [seems in great good spirits'] . Lady 
 Vemey, are you as happy as you should be? Miss Night- 
 ingale gives Lord Herbert the last items to-day. He 
 makes his final speech in the House to-morrow and our 
 work is done. 
 
 Lady Verney. And high time it is, too, if he and 
 Florence are going to survive their speech. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. The speech in the House to-morrow 
 contains all Miss Nightingale's ideas for the complete 
 reorganization of the War Office. What a moment it will 
 be for her! 
 
 Lady Verney. My sister will say that it is all Lord 
 Herbert's work, though she has actually written the 
 speech for him, I believe. Ah, well, women have to work 
 through men, and there is no greater or more generous 
 man than Lord Herbert. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. A friendship like the one between 
 Lord Herbert and Miss Nightingale is seldom seen in 
 this world. I would call it a passionate, pla tonic friend- 
 ship and it makes an irresistible power. 
 
 Lady Verney [screws her face up a little dubiously]. 
 Quite so; they work as one person. She calls him her 
 master, but I suspect he is really her tool. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [gravely]. The tool is worn out. 
 Thank God, it is the tool that is worn out, and not the
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 103 
 
 master spirit. We must make Miss Nightingale see ho\v 
 very ill Lord Herbert is. 
 
 Lady Verney [anxiously^ . What would happen if he 
 were unable to make his speech to-morrow? 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. Unless he is able to make it to- 
 morrow or very soon, all our days and nights of labor 
 would come to nothing. This bill — do you know what 
 it means? Nothing short of the entire reform of caring 
 for the British Army in health as well as in sickness. 
 
 Lady Verney [wearily']. Don't I know it! Have I 
 heard of anything else? 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. I thought when I was helping her 
 at Scutari that her work was miraculous, but it was 
 nothing compared to what she has already put through 
 in this room. [He looks around him.] 
 
 The door opens at the jar end of the room and Miss 
 Nightingale comes in; she is exceedingly frail, 
 seeming to carry her erect body entirely by the force 
 of her spirit. Her eyes are steady and somber, the 
 lines of the mouth resolved; she looks at the pile 
 of mail scrutinizingly, almost as though she could 
 see through the wrappers. She glances casually at 
 Lady Verney and Dr. Sutherland. Dr. Suther- 
 land goes forward quickly and helps her to her 
 couch. Dr. Sutherland aiul Lady Verney re- 
 main standing near her waiting for her to speak. 
 Miss Nightingale [with a bright smile 'at Dr. Suth- 
 erland]. Don't let us talk about the speech. I must
 
 104 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 just quiet myself with other things until Lord Herbert 
 comes. \^She begins looking over her mail. She opens 
 a note, glances through it and laughs.] Since that letter 
 of mine to the papers in support of the voluntary move- 
 ment I have received forty-one offers of marriage. I 
 could have as many husbands as Mahomet's mother, but 
 did woman ever want a lover as much as I want that 
 bill to go through? Never! [They laugh. She throws 
 the letter aside and opens another.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale [glancing over another note}. 
 Senseless sentimentalist! Poems! Seventy-nine poems 
 in the last month, and in all I figure as an angel. Now 
 what is there in me like an angel? 
 
 Lady Verney. Nothing at all, my love. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [laughs]. Angels fold their wings 
 sometimes. Do you ever? And they haven't talons. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [laughs]. You think that I do 
 not answer my letters sweetly enough; but what will 
 you? When I write civilly, I have a civil answer — and 
 nothing is done. When I write furiously, I have a rude 
 answer — and something is done. And I do want things 
 done. They must be done. I am not sure of the execu- 
 tive ability of angels, even in Heaven; but on earth they 
 are certainly only fit for memorial windows — and tomb- 
 stones. Really, Parthe, it is very trying to be called an 
 angel when one is absorbed in drains. However, I must 
 flutter my wings for this young poet, as he seems to have
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 105 
 
 more money than rhythm, and is inclined to part with 
 some of it for our medical school. 
 
 Lady Verney. Florence, to-morrow you will have a 
 strain you've not known before, the strain of bearing joy. 
 Won't you to-day send Dr. Sutherland away and rest 
 until Sidney Herbert comes? Remember, you have a 
 perishing body. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Rest! Am I not resting? This 
 is a day of triumph for us. Herbert should be here now. 
 Dr. Sutherland, do you take it in that our work is done? 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [looking very critically at Miss 
 Nightingale speaks in semi-serious voice}. You may 
 live through the day provided you eat one biscuit — or 
 two. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [laughing]. After my return from 
 the Crimea, you said: "Let me write your epitaph and 
 put you quietly to bed for your friends to nurse and feed 
 and hang poems on your bed post." Ever since I have 
 known you you've been saying, "Well done, good and 
 faithful servant," but not yet has my Lord said that, 
 and until He does, I work, and work, and work, for the 
 British Army, than which there is nothing nobler and 
 more abused on earth. They shall have the best medical 
 schools, the best sanitation, the best physical culture, 
 the best hospitals, that the mind of intelligent and grateful 
 men can devise. They shall be sent to the battle-fields 
 by their country as fit as human care can make them;
 
 io6 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 and as long as there is breath in their bodies, they shall 
 know intelligent human gratitude. I am so determined 
 on this that I will give up health and joy in life to its 
 accomplishment. Now, need we talk further about it? 
 Why doesn't Sidney Herbert come? 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [laughing] . I care for the cause, too, 
 but I don't want to see you offered up as a sacrifice, even 
 to the British Army. And you are putting great pres- 
 sure on Lord Herbert, though you must see that he is 
 ill. Miss Nightingale, he is very ill. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. 111! I do see that he is ill; they 
 tell me that he has been so for a long time; yet think 
 of what he has done. No man has ever done so great 
 a piece of work for humanity. To-morrow it will be 
 established. His and my work is on the crest of comple- 
 tion. It will pass on into the great river that flows 
 from the throne of God. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. And yet again I say that he is very 
 ill ; and the Under-Secretary has great power to block his 
 moves. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. He was ill when he entered the 
 House of Lords, but would he ease himself by giving up 
 the Secretaryship of War? No, he kept on in order that 
 he might put his whole force into establishing his work. 
 After his glorious preparatory work, after beating the 
 Minister, do you think he would let himself be beaten by 
 an Under-Secretary? No, no. Lord Herbert is spent — is 
 ill — but he will put this through. I know him. What
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 107 
 
 does building schools and hospitals matter if the old 
 system of holding no one responsible remains? Sidney 
 Herbert beaten? Never! 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. Perhaps you are right. There is 
 nothing more to be done except this speech. You have 
 marshaled your facts until they shine out like lanterns 
 illuminating a black room. Lord Herbert has only to 
 use them to make the situation clear, and that he will do 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Yes, and our army will be saved 
 for all time. I, even I, whom you call dead, feel new 
 life running through me. Was there ever such a loyal, 
 dull, heroic animal as the rank and file of our army? Can 
 you not, Dr. Sutherland, see that graveyard on the 
 Bosphorus? The thousands of graves about the glisten- 
 ing white shaft which the Queen raised to her honored 
 troops? Ah, the irony of it! We know how they died, 
 and why— her neglected, murdered troops. We will 
 make a pilgrimage to those graves, not with flowers or 
 palms, but with documents that will ensure the safety 
 from such a death for all the troops who follow after 
 them. Lord Herbert has now all the cards in his hand. 
 He will soon be here. I think I could almost walk from 
 here to Scutari, treading the ocean for very joy. 
 Dr. Sutherland. It would be like you to try it. 
 Miss Nightingale. Parthe, will you have my dinner 
 sent up, and tell papa and mama I cannot see them to-
 
 io8 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 night? Oh, why is Sidney late? He must know I am 
 on fire with impatience. 
 
 Lady Verney [looking up and listening]. That may 
 be Sidney now. You two tired dears, don't work too 
 hard. [Exit.] 
 
 The maid comes in and announces Lord Herbert. 
 Miss Nightingale draws herself up from her couch, 
 her face lighting with enthusiasm. 
 Dr. Sutherland [smiling] . May I, humbly, as your 
 medical adviser, suggest that you sit down? 
 
 Miss Nightingale [remains standing, smiles at him, 
 and shakes her head] . Please go. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland goes out by one door as Lord Her- 
 bert enters by another. Dr. Sutherland pauses 
 for a moment as he leaves, to look at Lord Herbert 
 with alarmed concern. 
 Miss Nightingale [taking a step forward to meet 
 Lord Herbert, with great joy in her eyes] . Sidney, the 
 cards are ours. We may sing our song of triumph. We 
 will make our pilgrimage to Scutari. Oh, the foul can- 
 cer that broke there shall be for the healing of the na- 
 tions! 
 Lord Herbert has gone slowly towards her and meets 
 the joy in her eyes with unutterable sadness. As 
 she talks he bows his head. As she finishes he 
 looks up. 
 Lord Herbert. Florence, my poor Florence. 
 Miss Nightingale [with deep concern]. You are
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 109 
 
 tired, I know, I know, but you have only to make your 
 speech to-morrow and all is done. Oh, I urge you to only 
 one fight more, the best and last. Just one push more! 
 And lean on me, put every burden on me. You will only 
 have to speak — just one little effort more, my friend. 
 
 Lord Herbert. Florence, I cannot make even a ges- 
 ture. I cannot. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [^erce/>'] . Cannot! You, Sidney 
 Herbert, cannot! Ah [persuasively^, you don't mean 
 it. Sidney, you are tired. See, see, my friend, I am 
 strong. I will do all the labor. Truly, most of it is done. 
 Sit down and rest, and I will tell you what to do. You 
 have found it difficult to speak, I know. 
 
 Lord Herbert. Difficult! It was like addressing 
 sheeted tombstones by torchlight. Florence, look at me. 
 With your frail strength you are beating the dead — I am 
 dead. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [with growing anxiety]. Sidney, 
 just think quietly of the work that is behind you. You 
 will see how very, very Httle remains to be done — only 
 the last act. 
 
 Lord Herbert. The last act is over, Florence. I 
 have sent my resignation to the War Office. 
 
 Miss Nightingale's hands drop helplessly to her 
 side; she looks at Lord Herbert with horror, and 
 her words fall slow and labored and as solemn as the 
 toll of a funeral bell. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Cavour's death was a blow to
 
 no FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 European liberty, but a greater blow has come when Sid- 
 ney Herbert is beaten. No man in my day has thrown 
 away so noble a game with all the winning cards in his 
 hand. 
 
 Lord Herbert. It is true! My poor Florence, my 
 poor Florence, I must leave you. I grow weak. [He 
 holds out his hands jar a moment imth a pathetic ges- 
 ture, turns and goes slowly to the door. On reaching the 
 door, he turns again and looks towards her with great 
 pity in his eyes, but she stands like one turned to stone, 
 erect, with her hands still jailing, palms outward, by her 
 side, her lips parted, her eyes like the dead. The door 
 closes behind Lord Herbert. She continues standing 
 motionless. Dr. Sutherland comes quietly in.] 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [going towards her]. Miss Night- 
 ingale! 
 
 Miss Nightingale [starts, clasps her hands, sighs 
 deeply, then speaks wearily] . Lord Herbert has resigned 
 as Secretary of War. Our work has failed. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. Ah, my friend, be content with the 
 work you have both done, it is enormous — it is in- 
 credible. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [impatiently]. What does it mat- 
 ter what I have done? The thing is, what can I do now? 
 I must make friends with the new Secretary of War. 
 Ah [she puts her hand over her heart as if in pain] , we 
 must induce him to cut out the old red tape. Our work
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE iii 
 
 all to be done over again. Sidney Herbert beaten by an 
 Under-Secretary! Sidney Herbert! 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. Think of all he has done. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. To fail at the critical moment — 
 what does it matter what you have done before that mo- 
 ment? 
 
 The Maid comes in arid lights the lamps. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [^to Dr. Sutherland]. Leave 
 the papers with me. I will go over them to-night. They 
 must be revised. 
 
 Dr. Sutherland. Again let me urge you to rest, or 
 let me stay and work with you. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. No. You are very good, but I 
 shall work better alone. Come to me in the morning. 
 [5/?e draws the lamp nearer to her and begins working.'] 
 
 Dr. Sutherland [looks at her sadly]. You will put 
 yourself in the grave before Lord Herbert. [He goes 
 out.] 
 
 Miss Nightingale goes steadily on reading, revising, 
 making notes. The lamp grows dimmer. She draws 
 her shawl about her and moves nearer to the light. 
 
 [Curtain']
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene III 
 
 The next morning 
 
 Miss Nightingale is still sitting in exactly the same 
 position as at the close of the last scene. The lamp is 
 no longer burning. The Maid comes in; she seems 
 acctistomed to seeing Miss Nightingale working at 
 this hour. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looking up]. Bring me my tea, 
 Alicia, and tell Lady Verney that I will not see her until 
 luncheon time. 
 
 Maid. Begging your pardon, Miss Florence, but Lady 
 Verney said I was to tell you that she must see you after 
 you had your tea and roll. 
 
 Miss Nightingale moves a little impatiently, goes 
 on working. The Maid leaves the room, returning 
 in a jew moments with a cup of tea and a roll. Miss 
 Nightingale drinks her tea, leaning back on the 
 couch, but all the time keeping her eyes on the pa- 
 pers. As she puts her tray aside and again draws 
 her papers to her. Lady Verney comes in. 
 
 112
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 113 
 
 Lady Verney [going to her and kneeling beside her 
 speaks in a voice shaken with emotion^. Florence! 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looking at her sharply^. What 
 is it? 
 
 Lady Verney. My poor Florence! 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Is it Sidney Herbert? Is any- 
 thing wrong with him? 
 
 Lady Verney. Florence, ke is dead. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [remains perfectly still, looking 
 at her sister^. No! my God, no! 
 
 Lady Verney. Oh, my dear, his last words were of 
 you. He said: "Florence, poor Florence! Our joint 
 work unfinished!" 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Are you mad to tell me that? 
 Dead ! Sidney Herbert dead ! The cup of water for the 
 thirsty broken ! The open hands for the starving closed 1 
 There is no wisdom, no gentleness in the world, with his 
 voice hushed. My harsh voice racked him in his dying 
 moments, and he had sweetness and pity for me. See, 
 sister, the most despicable creature on earth sits before 
 you — ^and the noblest is dead. [Her hands drop in her 
 lap and she seems alone, remote.] 
 
 Mr. Nightingale comes slowly into the room. He 
 looks with grave apprehension at Florence and 
 questioningly at Lady Verney. Lady Verney looks 
 at him and shakes her head as if in despair. Miss 
 Nightingale seems unaware of her father's pres- 
 ence. He goes near her.
 
 114 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. Florence, I must speak. One of 
 the greatest men in England has been with me this morn- 
 ing. He came as soon as he' heard of Sidney's death. 
 He bids me say to you: "Will you let all your work fail? 
 It is you we have depended on, not poor Sidney." 
 
 Miss Nightingale [looks at him unseeingly, speaks 
 as if to herself \. How strong I am. How very, very 
 strong this flesh. Others die — I cannot. Sidney, my 
 master — I have your forgiveness, I know. I hear your 
 dear voice say, "Do you not think I know, my Florence?" 
 But I shall never forgive myself. I let my dear master 
 stand dying before me and I would not see. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale. We know your loneliness, Flor- 
 ence. His death leaves you dreadfully alone in the midst 
 of your work. [Miss Nightingale shudders and puts 
 her hand to her heart.] We are poor tools after Herbert, 
 but we are your tools, useless without your brain and 
 hands. Sir John McNeil implored me a few moments 
 back to say to you that your work is your life and that 
 you can do it alone. He begged me to say that to a 
 spirit like yours it is even sustaining to be alone. 
 
 Miss Nightingale [fiercely]. Blind fool to say that! 
 
 Lady Verney. Florence, dearest, Sidney was so ill. 
 A few days more or less — what does it matter? 
 
 Miss Nightingale. Obtuse to grief! A few days 
 more or less? Ah, for one little second more of my be- 
 loved one's life! Do you know of closed lids — your 
 light shut out? of sealed lips — your inspiration hushed?
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 115 
 
 •Just one little moment more out of all time to say *' For- 
 give me," and to see that answering heavenly sweetness 
 of his smile, and to hear my master say "Have peace!" 
 Oh, I am alone with strangers. 
 
 Mr. Nightingale [with dignity]. We are not stran- 
 gers, Florence. And I repeat from my heart the words 
 Sir John McNeil has just said to me, that many more may 
 fall around you, but you are destined to do a great 
 work and you cannot die until it is done. Go on! To 
 you the accidents of mortality ought to be as the falling 
 leaves in autumn. 
 
 Miss Nightingale makes a little beseeching gesture 
 as if she begged them to be silent. Her eyes fall 
 upon a paper on the table; she picks it up, looks at 
 it with horror. 
 
 Miss Nightingale. His speech! My God! His 
 speech! \_She lets it fall to the ground.'] His speech un- 
 said! {Throwing back her head with a light uplifted 
 movement, she stands erect, as if looking into the future.] 
 It shall be said! [Pause.'] Work! work alone, compan- 
 ionless, that is my destiny. The years of joyless work 
 shut me in — I submit. My beloved master, do you hear 
 me? I was wrong, you have not failed. I will live and 
 finish your work. I see you smiling and waiting for me. 
 I will come, bringing your sheaves with me. 
 
 {Curtain]
 
 Scene IV 
 
 Forty years later. Miss Nightingale's sitting room in 
 South Street. Miss Nightingale, a very old woman, 
 is sitting upon her couch propped up by pillows. She 
 is surrounded by a brilliant array of high officials, 
 delegates from almost every nation in the world. Con- 
 spicuous are the representatives of the Navy and Army 
 of Great Britain. Members of the Red Cross are 
 present, and a number of trained nurses from various 
 hospitals wearing their uniforms. 
 
 An Official [bowing before Miss Nightingale 
 speaks in voice full of emotion']. The nations of the 
 earth, here represented [he turns toward the assembly, 
 who have moved a little back of Miss Nightingale], 
 speak to you through my voice. But how can words 
 carry the heart-beats of humanity? They ask me to put, 
 with England's, their highest honors at your feet. The 
 Freedom of the City of London has been given you — but 
 what can that mean to one who has the Freedom of the 
 City of God? The chief honor His Majesty has to give, 
 the Order of Merit, he gives you — but what can that 
 mean to one who hears the ''Well Done" of her God? 
 But all these, our poor human honors, are yours, in 
 
 ii6
 
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 117 
 
 humility and gratitude for the crooked paths you have 
 made straight, and the tears you have wiped away. I 
 place them at your feet, the feet of Florence Nightingale, 
 [as he speaks the name of Florence Nightingale every 
 hand is raised in salute'] who took the soldiers* road, for 
 whom the battle has never ceased, and who, in all the 
 long years, has never had a furlough. 
 
 He places the Order of Merit on her lap, the other 
 
 medals and papers at her feet. While he is speaking 
 
 Miss Nightingale remains leaning on her couch, 
 
 remote, unattending. As he places the medals and 
 
 honors before her she looks at them and about at 
 
 the brilliant company in some bewilderment ; then 
 
 she looks at the spokesman. 
 
 Miss Nightingale {slowly and questioningly']. Too 
 
 kind — too kind. What have I done that they should be 
 
 so kind? 
 
 Music is heard in the distance; men^s voices are sing- 
 ing: "The Son of God goes forth to war." Miss 
 Nightingale leans eagerly forward; her face be- 
 comes radiant, alive. 
 Miss Nightingale [m a clear tone of voice]. My 
 hymn! 
 
 The veterans from the Crimea come marching in, 
 singing: 
 
 "They climbed the steep ascent of heaven 
 Through peril, toil, and pain;
 
 ii8 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 O God, to tis may grace be given 
 To follow in their train." 
 
 Miss Nightingale's face becomes transfigured. She 
 leans further forward, lifting her hand in an attitude 
 of intense expectation; her eyes look off into the 
 far distance. 
 
 [Curtain]