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Strachey, Giles Lytton, 1880-1932

"Eminent Victorians"

At last
the journey was accomplished; slowly, one by one, living or
dying, the wounded were carried up into the hospital. And in the
hospital what did they find?
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate: the delusive doors bore
no such inscription; and yet behind them Hell yawned. Want,
neglect, confusion, misery-- in every shape and in every degree
of intensity-- filled the endless corridors and the vast
apartments of the gigantic barrack-house, which, without
forethought or preparation, had been hurriedly set aside as the
chief shelter for the victims of the war. The very building
itself was radically defective. Huge sewers underlay it, and
cesspools loaded with filth wafted their poison into the upper
rooms. The floors were in so rotten a condition that many of them
could not be scrubbed; the walls were thick with dirt; incredible
multitudes of vermin swarmed everywhere. And, enormous as the
building was, it was yet too small. It contained four miles of
beds, crushed together so close that there was but just room to
pass between them. Under such conditions, the most elaborate
system of ventilation might well have been at fault; but here
there was no ventilation. The stench was indescribable. 'I have
been well acquainted,' said Miss Nightingale, 'with the dwellings
of the worst parts of most of the great cities in Europe, but
have never been in any atmosphere which I could compare with that
of the Barrack Hospital at night.


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