Excellent Women

Some months were spent in Italy; but her strength, which had been greatly tried by the work in London, again becoming enervated, and her nursing duties being at an end, she proposed that she should go to Switzerland and visit the deaconesses' institutions there. This plan she carried out, and visited several of the Swiss institutions, which she considered compared unfavourably with Kaiserswerth, both in organisation and spiritual tone. She visited besides some of those in Germany, and at Mannedorf had the joy of spending several days with that wonderful woman of faith, Dorothea Trudel.

All her experience had now gone to prove that her special gift was hospital work, and on rejoining her mother she definitely laid before her her wish to devote herself to the work of nursing, and with her consent entered into a correspondence with Miss Nightingale with the idea of entering St. Thomas's Hospital as a Nightingale probationer.

It is very clear that all through her life she was satisfied to be doing the "next thing," whatever that next thing should be which was pointed out to her by the guiding of God's Holy Spirit. She never ran counter to her mother's wishes, knowing that no blessing could be expected when the command, "Honour thy father and thy mother," was not observed; but when home no longer needed her, she was glad to enter the larger field to which God had opened the way.

CHAPTER V.

HOSPITAL WARDS

It has been said that "every woman is by nature more or less a nurse," but like most sayings it is by no means always true. Many who possess the gentleness and sympathy which are so necessary in nursing the sick, yet lack the ready nerve, deftness, and promptitude. Who has not beheld the sad spectacle of women anxious to help, yet helpless because of their ignorance and want of training? That will be a happy day when a course of training in nursing, though it be but a short one, is considered a necessary part of every woman's education. Miss Nightingale truly says, "There is no such thing as amateur nursing … Three-fourths of the whole mischief in women's lives arises from their excepting themselves from the rule of training considered needful for man."

Agnes Jones was a "born nurse;" but although she had had many opportunities both at Fahan and at Kaiserswerth of developing her talent, she would not attempt to teach others what she had not thoroughly grasped herself. The post in Liverpool, of Superintendent of the Training School of Nurses for the Poor, was still open to her and, in spite of her fear that she lacked the capacity to govern, had many attractions for her, and so she said, "I determined at least to try, to come to St. Thomas's Hospital, and to see whether in so great a work as that of training true-hearted, God-fearing nurses, there were not some niche for me. If every one shrinks back because incompetent, who will ever do anything? 'Lord, here am I, send me.'"

Let no one think that the resolve cost her nothing. As a matter of fact it meant giving up a great deal, but to follow in the steps of Him who freely gave up all for us, she cheerfully surrendered her lovely Irish home for the dreary walls of a London hospital, where her companions were, as a rule, neither Christians in the true sense of the word, nor her equals in society. Yet who that knows the Lord Jesus as "a living bright reality" can talk of sacrifice? To know the need of the Lord's poor was sufficient for her, and she counted nothing too much to give up joyfully for Him and His. Nor was this choice, which she felt to be a life-choice, a thought but of yesterday. Not long after she went to Kaiserswerth she had, as she herself writes, "much watching of a poor dying man; sitting alone by him in that little room, day after day, it went to my heart to hear some of his requests refused, and to see the food given him, so unfitted to his state. And I sat there and thought, 'If these be the trials of the sick in an institution conducted on Christian principles, oh, how must it be in those institutions in our own land, where no true charity is in the hearts of most of the heads or hands that work them!' and I then and there dedicated myself to do what I could for Ireland, in its workhouses, infirmaries, and hospitals." She felt too, that although she could do good service for her Lord in ordinary Christian work, she could do still better if, possessing as she did a God-given talent for nursing, she could, like her Master, both speak a "word in season" and minister to the needs of the body.

So St. Thomas's was entered, entered with the hope and prayer that both amongst nurses and patients God would use her. And use her He did, as He does all who cry, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me do?" and then watch for the opportunity to do it. It was not long before she sought and gained permission to establish a Bible class for the other Nightingale nurses, which proved a great blessing to several of them. In her ward, too, she was often able to speak a word for Christ to the patients.

She was very happy in her busy life, writing, "I am so growingly happy in it, and so fond of nay work." Of its importance she became more and more convinced, and in a letter written from Barnet, where she was spending a few happy days with her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Pennefather, she says:—"My work, I more and more feel it, for the worst things only make me realise how Christian and really good nurses are needed."

But it was to Ireland that her thoughts ever turned, and it was of work in Ireland that she was thinking even while training in London For by this very training she hoped to be the better fitted for work in her own beloved country. "Ireland is ever my bourn," she wrote. And again:—"My heart is ever in Ireland, where I hope ultimately to work."

After a year at St. Thomas's, and a short visit home, she returned to London to take the superintendence of a small hospital in connection with the Deaconesses' Institution in Burton Crescent. Here she had all the nursing to do, as there were but few patients, and she had great joy in ministering to them. "I trust," she writes in a letter to her aunt, "I am gaining a quiet influence with my patients; they are my great pleasure." And again: "I am very happy here among my patients, and often feel God has sent me here; I have two revival patients; one had found peace before she came, the other is seeking it, and to both I can talk. Then I have a poor woman with cancer, who likes me to speak of Jesus, whom I believe she truly loves; so you see I am not without work."

A short time at this hospital, and a few months as superintendent at the Great Northern Hospital, ended her work in London. The work at the latter tried her much both in body and mind, for not only did the whole responsibility of it rest upon her shoulders, but owing to the inexperience of her assistants, most of the nursing devolved on her as well. One patient who was critically ill she was obliged for six weeks to nurse entirely both by night and day. Nervous debility was the natural consequence of such overwork, and a deafness from which she had suffered at Kaiserswerth so much increased that the doctor ordered her to rest. That was not immediately possible, as there was no one to take her place, and when at last a successor had been found, and she was able to return home, she was so weary both in body and mind that she failed to find her usual delight in the loveliness of Fahan. A few weeks' stay, however, in the bracing air near the Giant's Causeway restored her to her wonted health.

The winter was passed at her home, resting quietly in preparation for the work in Liverpool, of which the offer has been already mentioned. In the spring of 1865 she left for ever the old familiar spot with its beautiful hills and glens, and its cottages, to many of whose inmates she had been the means of bringing comfort and peace; Liverpool, with its needy poor and its many difficult problems, claiming her for the last three years of her life.

CHAPTER VI.

AMONGST THE PAUPERS

In the year 1698, William III. stated in a speech that:—"Workhouses, under a prudent and good management, will answer all the ends of charity to the poor, in regard to their souls and bodies; they may be made, properly speaking, nurseries for religion, virtue, and industry." But could the good king who anticipated so many advantages from workhouses have only seen our poor law institutions a hundred and fifty or sixty years later, he would have been pained to learn how far they had fallen short of his sanguine expectations. The sick and helpless were entrusted to the care of women who, being paupers themselves, and of a low class, and being for the most part in the workhouse through loss of character, were found to be almost incapable of training. Rough they were, and in many cases brutal as well, while their roughness and brutality were intensified by the free use of intoxicants. Their language was terrible, and not only did they quarrel constantly amongst themselves, but fights were of frequent occurrence.

To endure such treatment and to witness such scenes was the daily lot of a sick pauper, who knew also that when dead he would have little better than the burial of a dog, since it was the common custom in many workhouses to bury corpses naked, with no covering but a few shavings thrown over the body. Little wonder was it that the poor, when overtaken by age or disease, shrank from the thought of entering a place which to them seemed worse than a prison, choosing rather to die without attention than to be treated in such a barbarous manner.

It seems strange that it was so long after a great reformation had been wrought in the management of our prisons that any one was found to lift up a voice in behalf of the much enduring inmates of our workhouses. There seemed to be no one who could spare a thought for the thousands of sick and poor in these institutions. But it was the old story of "out of sight, out of mind," for if only the evil had been apparent our English nation with its love of justice would have seen it righted long before. Workhouses were to be found all over the land, yet the public seemed not at all curious, much less interested, in the question whether they were properly managed or not. The guardians were often ignorant men, and were very slow to admit visitors, perhaps from a foreshadowing suspicion of the exposure which was in store for them, and the consequent necessity and expense of change, so that we need not wonder that the opposition which was called forth when first the evils of the workhouse system were exposed was tremendous, and that the task of awakening real interest seemed well nigh hopeless.

In the Liverpool Workhouse the state of things was no worse than in many others, and in many respects it was not so bad. There was a good committee, and therefore there was nothing like the wholesale starvation and cruelty which existed in too many other workhouses There was also some measure of thoughtful care for the sick ones, for Agnes Jones in a letter written after her first visit, says:—"There seemed care for the patients too; a few plants and flowers, Illustrated News pictures on the walls, and a 'silent comforter' in each ward, not the utterly desolate look one often meets in such places." Still, there were no trained nurses, and it was impossible for any committee, however zealous, to counteract all the evils of pauper nursing. The need for reform was great, and happily for Liverpool and for the country at large, there were not only eyes to see the need, but a mind which had grasped the only solution of the difficulty, and a large and sympathetic heart which prompted the hand to open wide the purse to accomplish it, for Mr. William Rathbone, ever foremost in all schemes for ameliorating the condition of the poor and needy, had long been alive to the necessity of substituting for pauper nurses trained paid ones. He it was who not only suggested the change, but offered himself to bear the whole expense of the scheme for three years, feeling assured that by that time the guardians would be so convinced of its practical good that they would adopt it permanently.

Having obtained the committee's consent to the trial of his plan, Mr. Rathbone offered the post of lady superintendent to Agnes Jones, then at the Great Northern Hospital in London. After consultation with Miss Nightingale and Mrs. Wardroper, the Lady Superintendent of St. Thomas's Hospital, and receiving their approval and also the promise of twelve Nightingale nurses from St. Thomas's for her staff, she accepted it. Still there was a delay of some months, which was partly due to the nurses' need of further training, and partly to the imperative necessity that she should have entire rest in order to recruit the strength which had been so sorely overtaxed at the Great Northern Hospital. She did not therefore enter on her duties until March 31, 1865. Even then she began her new and untried work in much trembling and with great distrust of herself, though her trust in her Saviour never failed. "It often seems strange," she wrote, "that I, who have so little self-reliance, and would like every step directed, am obliged to take such an independent position; and yet I have been so led that I could not help it, and I only trust I may be more and more led to look to the guidance of the ever-present and all-wise Heavenly Friend."

After her arrival she was still obliged to wait some weeks for the advent of her staff, consisting of twelve Nightingale nurses and four probationers. But although she was not yet in possession of the reins of government, and so was debarred from doing anything in the way of nursing, she was yet allowed free access to the wards, being only prohibited to speak on religion to the Roman Catholic patients. So the intervening time was not lost, for she found many opportunities of bringing cheer and comfort to sad and weary hearts and of pointing lost ones to the sinner's Saviour. Agnes Jones was not one of those who are always

"Seeking for some great thing to do,"

and ignoring the many small opportunities of service which lie ready to hand. She was quite content, since the larger field was not yet open to her, to occupy a smaller one. In a letter to her aunt she wrote very characteristically:—"I am trying and succeeding more and more in fixing my eyes on all the little things we shall be able to do. I believe in this is our safety, doing the daily littles as opportunity is given, and leaving the issue with God. It is the individual influence we shall have, the individual relief and the individual help for mind and body, that will be ours. If it is His will, He can make others see the many littles as one great whole, or they may see nothing done, while we have the comfort of the littles we know have been done."

The nurses and probationers arrived in the middle of May, and then work began in good earnest. The post of lady superintendent was by no means a sinecure. At 5.30 every morning she might have been seen unlocking the doors for the kitchen-women. She was often round the wards at 6.0, and all through the busy day until 11.0 at night she was kept fully employed, giving out stores, superintending her nurses, presiding at meals, and visiting patients, besides all the hundred-and-one duties and calls which fall to one in the like position. Her unselfishness was as conspicuous as ever, and she never thought of sparing herself in any way, her joy being to make the lives of others bright and happy.

The patients were quick to discover the benefits of the new régime. Instead of the old system of roughness and neglect, they found now a very different order of things, as nurses, perfectly trained, with soft voice and gentle footfall, passed from bed to bed, ministering to the sick and dying. Interesting and helpful books for those who were well enough to read found their way into the wards. Flowers—for Agnes Jones, who loved intensely all God's works in Nature, had great faith in the ministry of flowers—were there to give brightness in the midst of depressing surroundings. Visits from friends were rendered more easy. Christmas was made happy with special festivities. Indeed, she seemed always to be planning something to cheer the sick under her care. She very soon began Sunday evening Bible readings in the wards where there were only Protestant patients. Many crowded in, even Romanists, whom she was not allowed to invite, and listened with rapt attention, the late-comers slipping off their shoes, lest they should disturb her. After nearly two years' work, she commenced daily evening Bible readings, having an attendance of from twenty to thirty, while on the Sunday evening there were often more than a hundred.

It was no wonder that such devotion met with a ready response from the sad and friendless, and that her loving sympathy evoked love from the seemingly unloving.

Let us follow her as she passes through the wards. A thorough lady, quiet and self-possessed, she commands respect from even the roughest, and all look up with eager expectancy, hoping for just one word from her. Here is an old man, whose brightening face shows how welcome are her visits. As she stops we hear him murmur, "I never had a friend in all my life till I came here. You are my only friend." Another, who is drawing very near to the gates of death, taking her hand in his, says:—"I want to take leave of you—I never told you before, but do you remember speaking of the 'Gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord?' I got that gift then." And when she has gone, a poor man may be heard saying to the nurse:—"The lady can never know what she has done for me … I think I am in heaven when she comes."

Her nurses were thoroughly one with her. How could they be otherwise when she was so thoughtful and considerate for them? Before introducing them to their wards, she commended them to God in prayer, asking His blessing on them and their work. She had a Bible reading for them, but, not content with speaking to them collectively, she would frequently talk to them individually of the Saviour she so loved. Although she never passed over their faults, they were sure of her ready sympathy in their troubles, and as they poured them into her ear she would say, "Have you told Jesus so?"

The success of the work was an astonishment to all. The patients could at first scarcely understand why the nurses did not swear at them like their former ones. The police wondered as they saw women able to deal with those whom they had found utterly untameable; while the committee were so pleased with the success of the experiment, that, a year before the specified time, they decided permanently to adopt the system of trained nurses.

But such work was not without its trials. During the first year there was great difficulty with the ex-pauper women who were being trained, many who seemed to be doing well returning to their drunken habits. Dirt, disorder, insubordination, and grumbling had to be contended with. The vilest sins were practised even by children, and so shameful was the conduct of many of the inmates that Agnes Jones said, "I can only compare it to Sodom, and wonder how God stays His hand from smiting."

The isolation from home and friends was a trial in itself, while her anxiety about her work was so great that she scarcely allowed herself a holiday. A further trouble was that from morning till night she was never alone. It is small cause for wonder that with such a terrible strain, overtaxed nerves and strength should result in depression, a fact only revealed by her journals, for to others she was ever bright, and it was often said of her, "She is like a sunbeam."

A life lived at high pressure cannot long continue without failing partly or altogether, and the end came at last. In the beginning of 1868 there was much fever and sickness of various kinds, there being three hundred patients above the normal number, while the nursing staff was reduced by illness. A nurse, who had been ill with bronchitis, developed symptoms of typhus, and Agnes Jones, fearing that her life might be sacrified, were she removed to the fever wards, gave up her bedroom to her, sleeping herself on the floor of her sitting-room. She was soon attacked by the same disease. For a week she progressed very favourably. Then dangerous symptoms showed themselves, and finally inflammation of both lungs.

Many were the touching inquiries from the patients of "How is the lady?" Nurses and friends watched anxiously the terrible progress of the disease. Much prayer was made, but the Lord had need of His servant, who had been so faithful to the trust committed to her here, for a more perfect service; and at the age of thirty-five she passed away peacefully into the brightness of His presence in the early morning of February 19, 1868, the beginning to her of a glorious day which should know no twilight gloom.

On the following Friday, when the coffin was carried into the hall, and placed in its case ready for removal across the Irish Channel, the landing and stairs were filled with patients who had crept there from the wards to see the last of one who had brought so much happiness into their wretched lives. And when she was carried to her last resting-place in the picturesque churchyard of Fahan, within sound of the rippling waters of Lough Swilly, she was followed, as was fitting, by nearly the whole population, many of whom could thank God for blessing which she had been the means of bringing to them.

Until the resurrection morning she might be hidden from the eyes of those who loved her; but none who knew her could ever forget her. Hear the testimony of one of the workhouse officials to the writer, more than twenty-five years after, when the question, "Do you remember Miss Jones?" was asked. "Remember her? I should think I do. I could never forget her. She used to have a Bible class on Sunday afternoons and on a week-day evening in that little vestry belonging to the church. She began it for the nurses, but there were only about fifteen of them then, and so she used to let us officers go as well if we liked. I used to love it, for it was beautiful to see her sitting there so homely and nice, and then she used to pray with us and expound the Scriptures. Oh, it was a real help, I can tell you! But it was a wonder to me how she lived those last few weeks of her life. You see the cholera broke out, and there was a lot of fever besides, typhus and different sorts, and she could never rest for looking after and caring for them all. Why, I've seen her in those wards there myself between two and three o'clock in the morning. Ah! she was a Christian, she was. Saint was the word for her, for if ever there was a saint upon this earth, it was Miss Jones. She seemed to me to live in heaven, and heaven was in her and about her and all around her."

"Only a tender love,
Stilling the restless moan,
Soothing the sufferer,
Cheering the lone.

* * * * *

Only a woman's heart;
Yet she forgot her care,
Finding on every side
Burdens to bear.

* * * * *

Humbly she walked with God,
Listening to catch His voice,
And 'twas His work for her,
Not her own choice.

And when that work was done,
Life's quiet evening come,
What then awaited her?
Only a tomb?

Nay, but a mansion fair
Near to the great white throne,
And the dear Master's word
Saying, 'Well done.'"