Florence Nightingale, under a carefully preserved incognito, arrived quietly at Whatstandwell, the nearest station to her Derbyshire home, on August 8th, 1856, and succeeded in making her way unrecognised to Lea Hurst. According to local tradition she entered by the back door, and the identity of the closely veiled lady in black was first discovered by the old family butler. The word quickly circulated round Lea and the adjacent villages that “Miss Florence had come back from the wars,” and dearly would the good people have liked to light a bonfire on Crich Stand or some other available height to testify their joy, but all demonstration was checked by the knowledge that Miss Florence wanted to remain quiet.

During the ensuing weeks hundreds of people from the surrounding towns of Derby, Nottingham, and Manchester, and from more distant parts, crowded the roads to Lea Hurst and stood in groups about the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of the heroine. “I remember the crowds as if it was yesterday,” said an old lady living by the park gate, “it took me all my time to answer them. Folks came in carriages and on foot, and there was titled people among them, and a lot of soldiers, some of them without arms and legs, who had been nursed by Miss Florence in the hospital, and I remember one man who had been shot through both eyes coming and asking to see Miss Florence. But not ten out of the hundreds who came got a glimpse of her. If they wanted help about their pensions, they were told to put it down in writing and Miss Florence’s maid came with an answer. Of course she was willing to help everybody, but it stood to reason she could not receive them all; why, the park wouldn’t have held the folks that came, and besides, the old squire wouldn’t have his daughter made a staring stock of.”

London shared the disappointment of Derbyshire in not being permitted to give Florence Nightingale a public welcome, but the situation was realised by the genial Mr. Punch in the sympathetic lines quoted at the heading of this chapter.

Punch had had his joke when the “dear Nightingales” first went to the succour of the soldiers, but the day for raillery was past; a great humanitarian work had been accomplished, which the genial humorist was quick to acknowledge on the return of the heroine in a cartoon showing “Mr. Punch’s design for a statue to Miss Nightingale.” It represented her in nurse’s dress, wearing the badge “Scutari” across her breast, and holding a wounded soldier by the hand. Below was a scene portraying the good Samaritan.

The public interest in Miss Nightingale was testified in many ways. Not only did platforms all over the land resound with her praises, but her portrait became a popular advertisement for tradesmen. I have seen preserved in the Derby Town Library paper bags used in the shops of Henry Calvert, grocer, Hulme, the tobacconist, and Bryer, provision merchant, Derby, decorated with portraits of Florence Nightingale. Playbills displayed the heroine’s name, beside Romeo and Juliet, songs and musical compositions were dedicated to the “good angel of Derbyshire.” There was the “Nightingale Varsoviana” and “The Song of the Nightingale,” published with a full-page picture of the heroine on the cover. Almanacks displayed her portrait and ballads innumerable told of her gentle deeds. Street minstrels found a Nightingale song the most remunerative piece in their repertoire, and people who had hitherto been guiltless of versifying were compelled to satisfy an importunate muse by writing verses on Florence Nightingale. Broadsheet ballads were sung and sold in the streets, and the following extract is from one emanating from Seven Dials:—

Before her return home Miss Nightingale’s services had been recognised by an influential meeting at St. George’s Hospital, presided over by the late Duke of Cambridge. It was moved by Viscount Chelsea that “Miss Nightingale should be elected an honorary Governor of St. George’s Hospital in testimony of the respectful admiration felt by the supporters of this charity for her self-denial and disinterestedness and her devoted heroism.” The Duke of Cambridge spoke of what he had himself seen of Miss Nightingale’s work amongst the sick and wounded soldiers during his stay at Scutari, and said that her name was revered alike by English, French, Turks, and Russians.

Letters of congratulation and expressions of esteem from all sorts and conditions of people poured in upon Miss Nightingale after it was known that she was settled in her Derbyshire home, and public associations and societies sent deputations. If Florence Nightingale could have been persuaded to hold a reception, it would have been attended by delegates from every representative body in the kingdom; but while such a national appreciation of her labours was very gratifying to our heroine, her chief desire now was to escape publicity, and her enfeebled health made quietude a necessity.

She was specially pleased by an address sent by the workmen of Newcastle-on-Tyne, and replied in the following beautiful letter:—

The working men of Sheffield subscribed a testimonial to Miss Nightingale and presented her with a case of cutlery. Each blade, instead of bearing the maker’s name in the customary way, was stamped with the words “Presented to Florence Nightingale, 1857.” The oak case containing the cutlery was bound in silver, and the top inlaid with a device representing the “Good Samaritan,” and inscribed with the words “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.”

Another very interesting and tenderly prized gift was a writing-desk, inlaid with pearl, presented to Miss Nightingale by her friends in the neighbourhood of her Derbyshire home. On the front of the desk was a silver plate inscribed with the words “Presented to Florence Nightingale on her safe arrival at Lea Hurst from the Crimea, August 8th, 1856, as a token of esteem from the inhabitants of Lea, Holloway, and Crich.” Miss Nightingale, on being told that her friends and neighbours wished to celebrate her home-coming by a presentation, requested that it might be done as privately as possible; accordingly a small deputation waited on her at Lea Hurst a few weeks after her arrival and presented the desk.

Amongst other old friends whom Miss Nightingale received on her return home was the late Duke of Devonshire, who drove over from Chatsworth to Lea Hurst and presented his distinguished neighbour with a silver owl and some other tokens of his esteem. The duke caused a collection of press notices—there were no press cutting agencies in those days—to be made with regard to Miss Nightingale and her work and made into a scrap-book, which His Grace eventually presented to the Derby Town Library.

During these weeks, in which Miss Nightingale was recruiting her health at Lea Hurst, she entertained from time to time little parties of her humble friends and neighbours, who enjoyed the privilege of seeing the mementoes which she had brought from the Crimea.

There are still living a few old people in the neighbourhood of Lea Hurst who recall the awe and wonder with which they regarded cannon balls from Sebastopol, bullets taken from Balaclava heroes, and other martial objects in Miss Florence’s collection, and the emotion they felt at sight of the flowers and grasses which she had gathered from the graves of the soldiers in the cemeteries of Scutari and Balaclava. Then there was “Miss Florence’s Crimean dog,” a large Russian hound which was the wonder of the countryside, second only in interest to the drummer boy Thomas, who attended his lady home from the war and was a very big person indeed as “Miss Nightingale’s own man.” For graphic and thrilling narrative of the fall of Sebastopol, Thomas could outvie the special correspondent of The Times, and if he was unavoidably absent from the Balaclava charge, he had the details of the engagement by heart.

Queen Victoria had taken from the first a deep interest in Miss Nightingale’s work, and was wishful to receive and thank her in person, while the young Princesses were with natural girlish enthusiasm eager to see the heroine of the war. Accordingly, it was arranged that Miss Nightingale should proceed to Balmoral, where the Queen and Prince Consort were spending the autumn. She arrived in the middle of September, a month after her return from the Crimea, and was privately received by the Queen. The favourable impression made by Miss Nightingale on the royal circle is recorded in the Life of the Prince Consort. One can imagine, too, the emotions of the Crown Princess and Princess Alice, whose desire to help the suffering soldiers had been fired by the visitor’s noble work. Both these young Princesses were destined to experience the anxiety of the soldier’s wife whose husband is at the front, and both followed in the footsteps of Florence Nightingale in organising hospital work in the Prussian War of 1866 and in the Franco-German War of 1870, while tiny Princess Helena was to become in after years an accomplished nurse, and an active leader in the nursing movement of this country; and, alas! to yield her soldier son on the fatal field of South Africa.

Miss Nightingale spent several weeks in the Highlands as a guest at Birkhall, near Balmoral. She was present at a dance at the Castle, and sat with the Royal Family at one end of the hall, and is described as looking very graceful and pleasing. She wore a pretty lace cap to conceal her short hair, her abundant tresses having been cut off during her attack of Crimean fever. On Sundays Miss Nightingale worshipped at the old church of Crathie, and her sweet, pale face was affectionately regarded by the village congregation, for there were many brave sons of Scotland whose pains she had soothed and whose dying lips had blessed her.

After leaving the Highlands, Miss Nightingale joined her family for the customary stay at Embley Park, her Hampshire home, where she was received by the people with many expressions of congratulation. At Embley she was in the near vicinity of Wilton House, the home of her friends, the Hon. Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Herbert, with whom there was much to discuss regarding the founding of the training home for nurses to which the Nightingale Fund was to be devoted. The fund was the people’s gift to Florence Nightingale, and continued to be enthusiastically supported by private contributions, from the pennies of the poor to the cheques of the rich, and by means of public entertainments throughout the winter which succeeded the return of the heroine from the Crimea.

During the months which succeeded her return, Miss Nightingale, with characteristic business promptitude, prepared a clear and comprehensive statement regarding the “free gifts” which had been sent to her for the sick and wounded, and in the latter months of the war for the convalescent soldiers. One can read between the lines of this report the general muddle which characterised the transit of goods from London to the seat of war, in consequence of which bales of things sent by benevolent people made wandering excursions everywhere but to the Scutari hospitals where they were so urgently wanted, and in some instances were actually brought back to their donors unopened. This was owing to the fact that from May, 1854, when our army first encamped at Scutari, until March, 1855, no office for the reception and delivery of goods had been established either at Scutari or Constantinople. In consequence packages arriving by merchant vessels not chartered by Government passed into the Turkish Custom House, from which they were never extracted without delay and confusion, and many were destroyed or lost. In cases of ships chartered by Government, masses of goods were delayed, as Miss Nightingale wittily remarks, by “an unnecessary trip to Balaclava and back” before they reached her at Scutari.

In face of such confusion the task of giving a detailed account of the “free gifts” would have hopelessly baffled a less clear head than Miss Nightingale’s. “The Statement of the Voluntary Contributions” which she had received for the hospitals in the East was published in 1857, and in it Miss Nightingale took occasion to pay a tribute to the devotion and zeal of the medical officers in the hospitals, who had been so handicapped by the lack of proper medical supplies and comforts in the early part of the campaign. She also refers to the liberality of the British Government and the support which she had received from the War Office, and acknowledges the sympathy and help received from various general and commanding officers, both British and French, and pays the following tribute to her old friend Lord Raglan, the Commander-in-Chief: “Miss Nightingale cannot but here recall, with deep gratitude and respect, the letters of support and encouragement which she received from the late Lord Raglan, who invariably acknowledged all that was attempted for the good of his men with the deepest feeling, as well as with the high courtesy and true manliness of his character. No tinge of petty jealousy against those entrusted with any commission, public or private, connected with the army under his command, ever alloyed his generous benevolence.”

At this period, though in weakened health, Miss Nightingale was under the impression that she was still “good for active service.” When the Indian Mutiny broke out, she wrote to her friend Lady Canning, the wife of the Governor-General, offering to go out to organise a nursing staff for the troops in India. Lady Canning writes, November 14th, 1857: “Miss Nightingale has written to me. She is out of health and at Malvern, but says she would come at twenty-four hours’ notice if I think there is anything for her to do in her ‘line of business.’” Lady Canning did not, however, encourage Miss Nightingale to undertake a task for which she had not the strength, neither did she at that time see the practicability of forming nursing establishments in the up-country stations of India. That Miss Nightingale made the offer is characteristic of her indomitable spirit.