Nightingale, after the first shock of
terror, was able to settle down again more or less comfortably to
her embroidery. But Florence, who was now twenty-five and felt
that the dream of her life had been shattered, came near to
desperation.
And, indeed, the difficulties in her path were great. For not
only was it an almost unimaginable thing in those days for a
woman of means to make her own way in the world and to live in
independence, but the particular profession for which Florence
was clearly marked out both by her instincts and her capacities
was at that time a peculiarly disreputable one. A 'nurse' meant
then a coarse old woman, always ignorant, usually dirty, often
brutal, a Mrs. Gamp, in bunched-up sordid garments, tippling at
the brandy bottle or indulging in worse irregularities. The
nurses in the hospitals were especially notorious for immoral
conduct; sobriety was almost unknown among them; and they could
hardly be trusted to carry out the simplest medical duties.
Certainly, things HAVE changed since those days; and that they
have changed is due, far more than to any other human being, to
Miss Nightingale herself. It is not to be wondered at that her
parents should have shuddered at the notion of their daughter
devoting her life to such an occupation. 'It was as if,' she
herself said afterwards, 'I had wanted to be a kitchen-maid.
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