It was the friendship
of a man and a woman intimately bound together by their devotion
to a public cause; mutual affection, of course, played a part in
it, but it was an incidental part; the whole soul of the
relationship was a community of work. Perhaps out of England such
an intimacy could hardly have existed--an intimacy so utterly
untinctured not only by passion itself but by the suspicion of
it. For years Sidney Herbert saw Miss Nightingale almost daily,
for long hours together, corresponding with her incessantly when
they were apart; and the tongue of scandal was silent; and one of
the most devoted of her admirers was his wife. But what made the
connection still more remarkable was the way in which the parts
that were played in it were divided between the two. The man who
acts, decides, and achieves; the woman who encourages, applauds,
and--from a distance--inspires: the combination is common enough;
but Miss Nightingale was neither an Aspasia nor an Egeria. In her
case it is almost true to say that the roles were reversed; the
qualities of pliancy and sympathy fell to the man, those of
command and initiative to the woman.
There was one thing only which Miss Nightingale lacked in her
equipment for public life; she had not-- she never could have--
the public power and authority which belonged to the successful
politician.
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