IF LIFE HAD USED HER hardly, she was compensated now. Few human beings have enjoyed a fuller, happier old age. She was treated with an almost religious deference---ministers, kings, princesses, statesmen waited at her door, and her utterances were paid the respect due to an oracle. To millions of women all over the world she was the symbol of a new hope, the sign of a new age. Nor was she separated from the common joys of life. Though she had never married, she enjoyed the pleasures of matriarchy. In the lives of a large circle of young people, Shore's two daughters and his sons, Clough's sons and daughters, and Parthe's stepchildren, she held the place of a powerful, generous, and respected grandmother.

In old age an extraordinary atmosphere of peace flowed from her. She was formidable still; she preserved her rule of seeing only one person at a time and bent her whole attention on her visitor, making you feel, it was said, like a sucked orange, but she was animated now by the purest benevolence. To confide in her was irresistible. She delighted to concern herself with the small crises of daily life. Clough's sons brought her their love affairs, Shore's daughters their examination papers. No detail was too small to command her interest---the character of a servant, the quality of a joint of meat, the treatment of a cold. She delighted to write birthday letters, to send gifts of jellies, fruit, creams, special soups to invalids, to make presents. Sir Harry Verney, suffering from eye trouble, was sent a special lamp-shade; a girl cousin working too hard received concert tickets; Margaret Verney, going on a night journey by train, was sent sandwiches, coffee, and a special cushion for her head.

Her sympathy extended itself beyond her family. Her butcher, the policemen on duty at the Park gates near her house, everyone who served her, came within the circle of her benevolence. Their family affairs received her earnest consideration; their health was the object of her solicitude.

To enter her house was to receive an instant impression of whiteness, order and light. "You have such a beautifully tidy house," wrote a schoolgirl cousin. Her bedroom at the back of the house had French windows opening on to a balcony; there were no curtains only blinds, the walls were painted white, and the room was bathed in light.

A stand of flowering plants stood in the window, kept filled throughout the year by William Rathbone, and more flower-boxes stood on the balcony. The house backed on to the gardens of Dorchester House, and outside the windows were trees, flowers, and lawns. Birds twittered, and in summer the sunlight filtered through green leaves. Miss Nightingale's bed stood with the windows on her right; behind it was a shelf of books. She had a table beside her bed on which stood a reading-lamp with a green silk shade and a vase of fresh flowers---a large box of cut flowers was sent weekly by Lady Ashburton from Melchett Court. The furniture was unpretentious. There were an armchair, a bureau, a bookcase, another larger table. On the walls were a photograph of John Lawrence's portrait, a lithograph of the ground about Sebastopol, and a few watercolors. The room conveyed an exquisite and fastidious freshness. Flowers were never faded; vases sparkled like crystal; the pillows and sheets of Miss Nightingale's bed were spotless and without a crease.

On her good days she got up after luncheon and received visitors in the drawing-room below, lying on a couch wearing a black silk dress with a shawl over her feet, and a scarf either of delicate white net or fine quality lace round her head. "No gentlewoman ever wears anything but real lace," she told one of Shore's daughters; she was fond of the Buckinghamshire lace which Sir Harry Verney had made for her. The decoration of the drawing-room was severe, relieved by a profusion of flowers. The windows were curtained in plain blue serge; the walls, were white. Round the room were hung the engravings of Michelangelo's ceiling in the Sistine chapel which she had bought in Rome, and there were several bookcases full of books. When young relatives waited in the drawing-room before going up to see Aunt Florence, they found the books consisted solely of Blue Books, with one exception, a copy of The Ring and the Book.

Visitors, even when staying in the house, never saw Miss Nightingale except by appointment. She never took a meal with anyone, but she did her own housekeeping and took immense pains over her household. "Florence's maids and little dinners perfect," W. E. N. had written in 1867. Her staff consisted of five maids, her own personal maid, and a man known as "Miss Nightingale's messenger," who was an old soldier and a member of the Corps of Commissionaires.

The household was highly organized. The proper duties to be performed in the house and in the kitchen at every hour through the day were marked on a chart. The food was ordered by Miss Nightingale, and she was particular as to quality. In March, 1889 she wrote to a new butcher for "a fore quarter of your best small mutton. I prefer four year old mutton." The following week she wrote, "the neck 'ate' better than the shoulder tho' off the same piece," and ordered "a neck of mutton well hung and a leg well hung. Please tell your man to wait, as I always pay weekly." The neck proved "very good but the leg not so good," and she ordered "13 to 14 pounds of good sirloin of beef to try." Meanwhile the butcher's wife had fallen ill. Miss Nightingale was all sympathy, gave advice, sent lemon jelly and when, unhappily, the woman died, wrote: "God be with you and with your children is the earnest prayer of Florence Nightingale."

Her taste in food was fastidious. Each day's menu was submitted to her, and she made suggestions and criticized the previous day's dishes. "Remember I am a small but delicate eater," she wrote. "Sauces and gravies are not to be thickened with flour. The bones of the meat are simmered down with vegetables to make the stock, which is then reduced to make the sauces. Use plenty of herbs for flavouring." Turnips were to be served by "squeezing out all water, putting through a hair sieve and adding a gill of cream." "Brisket of beef must be cooked with herbs, onions, carrots, celery in a light broth on the hot plates from 10 A.M. to 9 P.M. Never too fast." "Roast pheasant must be hung not too near a good fire and basted every minute or two with good butter for an hour. Roast chicken must be larded all over." "Tell Miss Nightingale the luncheon was a work of art," said the Crown Princess of Prussia.

Miss Nightingale's account of an interview in 1886 demonstrates how little she now inspired awe, how readily she felt sympathy. The interview was with a girl who wished to be a nurse. "She showed," wrote Miss Nightingale, "a natural, unconscious, unrestrained interest in interesting things which I liked very much." Three remarks struck her favorably. "Oh I do so want to go inside the House of Commons some day just to hear Mr. Gladstone speak once." "May I just look round the books to see if there is a Tennyson." "Oh, I'm not a bit tired now." It was even possible to disagree with her without disturbing her good humor. In 1895 she received a letter upbraiding her for opposing the registration of nurses. She scribbled a note on the margin for Henry Bonham Carter: "Shall I royally disregard it---or shall I give them a BUSTER."

As her character blossomed into benevolence, her physical appearance changed. The slight, tall, willowy girl whose elegance had struck everyone who saw her, whose small head had been set on her neck with the grace of a stag, who had loved to dance and been light as thistledown on her feet, the thin, emaciated, mature woman with lines of suffering deeply engraved on her face, underwent a surprising metamorphosis. She became a dignified stout old lady with rather a large good-humored face. The shape of her head seemed to change; the face became wider, the neck shorter, the brow much more prominent. Surgeon-Major Evart, who knew her in her old age, said she resembled Mr. Gladstone, and a relative, introduced to her as a boy, retained as his recollection that she looked "so jolly."

Much of her life centered upon Shore and his wife and daughters and the children of Blanche and Clough; she followed them through their various stages of development, sent eggs and Egyptian lentils when one became a vegetarian, read pamphlets when another became an ardent advocate of cooperation, helped on several occasions with checks for foreign tours. But her closest association was with the Verney family ---to the Verneys she was indispensable.

Each year Parthe became more crippled with arthritis, and in 1883 she had a serious illness. She suffered a great deal, and no nurse could control her. Her household fell into confusion, and Sir Harry, now eighty-two, was distracted; so Miss Nightingale went down to Claydon and took command. After 1883 Parthe was completely crippled, and Miss Nightingale became an essential part of the Verney family life. In addition to her old and deep affection for Sir Harry she was greatly attached to Sir Harry's son, Frederick Verney, who had been ordained a deacon and did social work in London. She corresponded with him, and on several occasions he read her papers to scientific and political meetings.

She also became intimate with the wife of Sir Harry Verney's eldest son---Margaret Verney. In 1869, after their first meeting, Miss Nightingale described her as "a sort of heavenly young woman. I do not know that I ever saw anyone exactly like her. Only that she is witty and makes jokes she would be exactly like the Virgins and Saints of Fra Angelico." Margaret Verney---Miss Nightingale's name for her was "Blessed Margaret"---in addition to saintliness and beauty had capability. She had, wrote Miss Nightingale to Frederick Verney in 1896, "administrative power, that power of detail which makes works succeed and is called capacity for business."

The burden of Parthe's illness had fallen on Margaret Verney, and Miss Nightingale alone could help her. When Parthe wrote Margaret a letter "so outrageously discourteous" that she "destroyed it as if it were a viper ... I have no wish in the world but to be a daughter but there are some things Mama must not say to me," Miss Nightingale persuaded Parthe to apologize; when she had been at Claydon, Parthe was much easier to manage. "I write with a very thankful heart to-night for Mama has been so kind and gentle," wrote Margaret on September 8, 1887, "and I feel as if the echoes of your loving words and thoughts and prayers still linger here and have an influence for peace."

The intimacy grew swiftly. "Dearest Miss Nightingale" became "Dearest Aunt Florence," and innumerable letters passed between them breathing affection and solicitude. In 1888 she called Miss Nightingale, "the presence which to all of us brings such balm of sympathy and peace." In 1889 she wrote, "I long so much to see you. Thank you so much for all you have been to us." In 1894: "Have you been able to sleep? You cannot think how I long to be able to do something for you. . . . If you could invent some wood to hew or water to carry, you would make me so very happy." In 1892, when Miss Nightingale wrote to ask if a certain date would be convenient for her to come to Claydon, Margaret replied "there never could be found in any almanac any day when it was not convenient and delightful that you should come here."

In May 1890 Parthe died. Their reconciliation had been complete. For seven years Parthe had been a difficult invalid, but Miss Nightingale's patience had never failed. "You contributed more than anyone to what enjoyment of life was hers," wrote Sir Harry on May 15, 1890. "It was delightful to me to hear her speak of you and to see her face, perhaps distorted with pain, look happy when she thought of you."

Parthe's death brought Miss Nightingale even closer to the Verney family. She went down to Claydon at once and stayed with Sir Harry until the autumn. He became the principal object of her life. He visited her every day, and if she went to London she wrote to him daily; when they were both in London, he called on her every morning. He was now nearly ninety, still mentally alert and still magnificently handsome, and she was seventy. One of the few photographs she ever allowed to be taken shows them sitting together on a garden seat at Claydon, smiling at each other. Her health had so far improved that occasionally she was able to take a short stroll leaning on his arm.

It was inevitable that she should interest herself in the management of the estate and inevitable that, having investigated accounts, condition of cottages, health of neighboring villages, water supply and sanitation, she should find much that needed improvement. It was uphill work. Sir Harry was old; Parthe had been extravagant and careless. Even the treasures in the house itself had been neglected---Margaret found one of the historic family portraits used as a partition to separate stored apples. An immense amount of work was done by Miss Nightingale and Margaret to straighten out the confusion. In the house a degree of order was established, and the drains attended to. "You know," wrote Margaret in January, 1892, "how one goes through phases of discouragement at Claydon. You have established two definite steps forward which we never could have done without you."

In the villages Miss Nightingale embarked on a new scheme. She wished to support the work of the District Nurse with Lady Health Missioners, women who were to be trained to teach village mothers the elementary principles of health in the home. Miss Nightingale was convinced that the best way to develop sanitary education, in England as in India, was to use the village as a unit. And, she insisted, "the work must be personal"; the Health Missioners were not to lecture the village women but to work with them.

It was a curious reproduction of the work she had done in her best days in India, a reproduction in miniature with Buckinghamshire in place of India, the Aylesbury district in place of Bengal. Even the conclusion repeated itself. Progress was impossible without water. Village sanitation in England, as in India, turned on water supply. "Prizes to cottagers for cleanliness are not desirable," she wrote to the Medical Officer of Health in November, 1891. "The prizes ought to be for handy water supply---to the authorities.... It is very pretty in a picture the group at the well of mother and children. It is not pretty in practice. The first possibility of rural cleanliness lies in water supply."

Year succeeded year, and it seemed that Time had decided to pass Miss Nightingale by, that her Indian summer would last for ever while round her familiar faces were disappearing. In 1889 Aunt Mai died at the age of ninety-one. In July, 1891 Dr. Sutherland died. His last articulate words were for her---"give her my love and blessing," he told his wife.

In 1893 a great grief awaited her: she lost Jowett. During the past few years they had drawn even closer. "The truer, the safer, the better years of life are the later ones," he had written to her in 1887. "We must find new ways of using them, doing not so much but in a better way." In October, 1890 he had a heart attack and was expected to die. "I am always thankful for having known you," he wrote in a farewell letter on October 16, He recovered, and in November, 1890 she went over to Balliol from Claydon to see him, and stayed the night. In May, 1892 he had another attack which greatly weakened him, but he still managed to visit her. "I want to hold fast to you dear friend as I go down the hill," he wrote. In August, 1893 he was seen to be sinking---he became too weak to hold a pen; and on September 18 he dictated his last letter to her: "Fare you well . . . How large a part has your life been of my life." On October 1890 he died.

Four months later she had to bear another great grief: in February, 1894 Sir Harry Verney died at the age of ninety-three. Six months later, in August 1894, Mr. Shore Nightingale "My boy Shore," died, whose kindness, she was never tired of saying, had been one of the great recompenses of her life. "I have lost the three nearest to me in twelve months," she wrote. But there was no bitterness, none of the resentful anguish which had torn her apart thirty years ago. She was seventy-four, and as she drew nearer to the dividing line between life and death the bodily veil grew thin. It was not loss she faced now, but a temporary separation. And as she looked back over the long years she felt, as she had never felt in the days of her youth, that the sum total of life was good. "There is so much to live for," she wrote on May 12, 1895. "I have lost much in failures and disappointments, as well as in grief but, do you know, life is more precious to me now in my old age."

Claydon continued to be her second home, but after Sir Harry's death her visits became less frequent. The affection, the welcome was there. "We are crazy with joy that you give us so blessed a hope of seeing you in November," wrote Margaret Verney in October. But the renewal of physical vigor which had been so extraordinary a part of her Indian summer was beginning to fail. Gradually her life closed in; after 1896 she never left South Street, and she spent thereafter the whole of her life in her bedroom.

But it was only her body which had failed, for her mind and spirit remained as vigorous as ever. Indeed, she seemed to gain, as if in compensation, added confidence and hope. "Yes, one does feel the passing away of so many who seemed essential to the world. I have no one now to whom I could speak of those who are gone. But all the more I am eager to see successors," she wrote in a private note dated "All Saints. All Souls. November 2nd, 1896." She was still actively occupied. "I am soaked in work," she wrote to Douglas Galton in January, 1897. The War Office consulted her, and she had influence there. Lord Lansdowne, her friend and Jowett's, was Secretary of State for War.

She maintained connections with India, corresponding with the Viceroy, Lord Elgin, continuing to receive from the India Office all papers on Indian sanitary matters, and entertaining a large number of Indian gentlemen, educationalists, doctors, and administrators. In 1898 she received the Aga Khan. "He was," she wrote in a private note, "a most interesting man, but you could never teach him sanitation. . . . I told him as well as I could all the differences, both in town and country, during my life. 'Do you think you are improving?' he asked. By improving he meant believing more in God."

Year by year her legend steadily grew. The world had taken her figure to its heart, but in an extraordinary, an unprecedented, way. No crowd of admirers waited outside her house in South Street; indeed, the greater part of the world supposed she was dead, had supposed she was dead for the past forty years. Even the survivors of the men she had nursed did not know what had become of her. "I should have communicated with you sooner," wrote the organizer of an annual banquet of Inkerman survivors in 1895, "but I did not know your address." But whether she was dead or alive was unimportant: the image of her lived with vivid life. Not only in England but in the United States of America, in Turkey, Japan, in Brazil, her name had a magic possessed by no other.

The year of Queen Victoria's Diamond jubilee, 1897, added enormously to her legend. The Victorian Era Exhibition included a section representing the progress of trained nursing, and it was planned round Miss Nightingale; she was asked for Crimean relics, for pictures of Scutari, for her portrait, for the loan of her bust by Steell. She refused. "Oh the absurdity of people and their vulgarity!" she wrote. "The relics, the representations of the Crimean War! What are they? They are first the tremendous lessons we have had to learn from its tremendous blunders and ignorances. And next they are Trained Nurses and the progress of Hygiene. These are the 'representations' of the Crimean War. And I will not give my foolish portrait (which I have not got) or anything else as 'relics' of the Crimea. It is too ridiculous. . . ."

However, one of the organizers of the exhibition was Lady Wantage, and Lady Wangate was exceptionally pretty and charming. She called, and Miss Nightingale, always susceptible to charm, gave way. She wished to substitute a few hard facts about the work of the Royal Sanitary Commissions for Crimean relics, but Lady Wantage, wrote Miss Nightingale, "would not take [them] . . . she stuck to her point and she is so charming." Miss Nightingale lent the bust by Steell and tracked down her Crimean carriage. "O my dear Harry," she wrote to Henry Bonham Carter in March, 1897, "that wretched Russian car with wretched but active boy and pony, all dismantled, hangs round my neck. . . . it was discovered all to pieces in an Embley farmhouse when Embley was sold. I never cared what became of it."

The exhibition was the scene of extraordinary demonstrations. Her relics were treated by the crowds as holy. Flowers were laid daily before the bust by an unknown hand; old soldiers, it was said, had been seen to come forward and kiss the carriage. It was canonization, but of an unwilling saint. She was disgusted. In October, 1897, when the exhibition was closing, she wrote to Louis Shore Nightingale, Shore's son: "Now I must ask you about my bust. (Here I stop to utter a great many bad words not fit to put on paper. I also utter a pious wish that the bust may be smashed.) I should not have remembered it but that I am told somebody came every day to bedeck it with fresh flowers. I utter a pious wish that that person may be saved. . . . What is to be done about the bust?"

Her life had turned to a golden evening, and it seemed the golden evening might last for ever. Year after year slid by, and still she faced life with relish; still the vigor of her mind was unimpaired. Then the darkest of shadows fell across the tranquil radiance as she began slowly to go blind.

Since 1867 she had had occasional pain in her eyes especially after working at night. After 1884 her sight began to trouble her seriously. In February, 1889 she had become "too blind to read newspapers." Three months later she asked Douglas Galton to take over the writing of an article she had been invited to contribute to Chambers's Encyclopaedia "because I have no longer eyes to write."

Her spirit remained undimmed. "No, no a thousand times no. I am not growing apathetic," she wrote to Sir Robert Rawlinson in 1889. As late as 1898 she reread Shakespeare and made copious notes. In her letters her phrases were vigorous as ever. "Do you know the taste of your heart in your mouth?" she asked Margaret Verney in 1891. She received a present, in 1893, "with a loud purr of gratitude such as the best fish elicits from the cat." She said of Lord Shaftesbury, "He would have been in a lunatic asylum if he had not devoted himself to reforming lunatic asylums."

She was fully conscious, however, of disquieting symptoms. As her sight grew worse, she wrote fewer private notes, but in 1895 she wrote "Want of memory," and in 1896 "How to preserve my sight!" It was the only mention of her growing blindness she ever made. If fear clutched at her, she concealed it. In earlier life she had talked a great deal about her health, in her old age she never mentioned it, but she must have remembered that Fanny had become childish and blind.

Slowly, inexorably, the curtain descended. She had always written with astonishing legibility and firmness (every line of her enormous letters is as easy to read as if it were print), but now the indelible pencil she took to using began to waver, the lines ran across the page, the letters were formed with difficulty. Still her vitality, her gaiety were unquenched. Margaret Verney's daughter, Ellin, married and in 1899 had her first child, a girl. In a spirited correspondence Miss Nightingale did her utmost to have the child named Balaclava, one of the most beautiful names, she declared, in the world. As late as 1900 she wrote to one of Margaret Verney's younger daughters: "I am sorry to see the tide leaving Italian for German. There are as many divine things in one page of Dante as in the whole of Goethe. Still it is no use, as Canute said, to kick against the tide. . . . As for riding, no 'hockey,' no games will equal it for improving the circulation all over and exercising the muscles and animal courage. A live horse and the sympathy of 'the horse and its rider' is worth all the bats and (deaf and dumb) balls put together. So 'drat' hockey and long live the horse! Them's my sentiments."

Year by year in a steady procession her old friends left the mortal stage. In 1898 Sir Robert Rawlinson died---he had been a Sanitary Commissioner in the Crimean War and had remained her close friend ever since. In 1899 she lost Sir Douglas Galton. In 1902 William Rathbone; "one of God's best and greatest sons," she wrote on his funeral wreath. Still her optimism remained undiminished; still she looked forward with an undaunted spirit. Lady Stephen, one of Shore's two daughters, was sitting, when a girl, with Miss Nightingale, who was lying back on her pillows, and they were speaking of one of the friends she had lost. Lady Stephen said that after a busy life he was at rest. Miss Nightingale at once sat bolt upright. "Oh no," she said with conviction, "I am sure it is an immense activity."

In 1901 darkness closed in on her. Her sight failed completely, and, except with the greatest difficulty, she could no longer read or write. At the same time her mind began to fail; she was not always aware of her surroundings and lay for hours in a state of coma. She fought to keep her grip on life. Every day she had The Times read to her. She also enjoyed biographies and articles from reviews which recorded action. One of her favorite books was Theodore Roosevelt's Strenuous Life. No longer able to act herself, she enjoyed hearing of action by others. Sometimes instead of being read to, she would recite poetry to herself, passages from Shakespeare, Milton, Shelley, and the Italian poets; sometimes she would sing airs from the operas she had loved in her youth in a voice still surprisingly full and sweet.

A time came when there was no more reading, no more reciting or singing. In 1906 it was necessary to tell the India Office that it was useless to send papers on sanitary matters any longer to Miss Nightingale; the power of apprehension had almost left her; she was quite blind, and her memory had failed. She saw very few people and she no longer recognized visitors: she took them for friends of her youth and asked for Sir Harry Verney, who had been dead for twelve years. Hour after hour she lay inert, unconscious, her hands, still pretty in old age, folded peacefully outside the bedclothes. Words no longer reached her, although when her young relatives sang hymns she seemed to recognize familiar tunes and be pleased.

And now when she had passed beyond the power of the world to please or pain, a shower of honors fell on her. In November, 1907 the Order of Merit was bestowed on her by King Edward VII, the first time it had ever been given to a woman. Since no ceremony was possible, the Order was left at South Street by the King's representative. It was not even certain that she understood the honor she had received. An explanation was attempted, but she hardly seemed to grasp it. "Too kind, too kind," she murmured. In the following year she received the Freedom of the City of London. The Roll of Honour was brought to her bedside, and her hand was guided to sign two wavering initials 'T. N.," but it was evident that she did not understand what she was signing.

The legend surrounding her silent inert figure burst into new life. Many people reading the news of these signal honors were taken aback to find that Florence Nightingale was still alive. A flood of congratulations poured in; there were poems, songs, illuminated addresses, flowers. The Mayor of Florence sent official congratulations, the Florence Nightingale Society of America, the Ladies of the Red Cross Society of Tokio, sent tributes to "the great and incomparable name of Florence Nightingale"; thousands of women who had been christened Florence in her honor banded together to send a joint message. Crimean veterans assured her that she had never been forgotten.

In June, 1907 the International Conference of Red Cross Societies had held a conference in London and sent a message to "Miss Florence Nightingale, the pioneer of the first Red Cross movement, whose heroic efforts on behalf of suffering humanity will be recognised and admired by all ages as long as the world shall last." Now local branches sent messages; regiments remembered her, the Commander-in-Chief, Lord Roberts, wrote a warm personal message in his own hand; Queen Alexandra wrote, and the Kaiser sent a bouquet of flowers: "very beautiful and very large," wrote Miss Nightingale's companion to Henry Bonham Carter in December, 1907, "lily of the valley and splendid pink carnations with yards of pink ribbon to match. Do you think the Emperor will wish the Press Association informed?" This was the Emperor's wish.

May, 19, 1910 was the jubilee of the founding of the Nightingale Training School, and to mark the occasion a meeting was held in New York in the Carnegie Hall at which the Public Orator, Mr. Choate, delivered an eulogium on the great record and noble life of Miss Florence Nightingale. There were now over one thousand training schools for nurses in the United States alone.

She knew nothing. Slowly, with heartbreaking slowness, death approached. Intervals of consciousness became less and less frequent. After February, 1910 she no longer spoke. The iron frame which had endured the cold and fevers of the Crimea, which had been taxed and driven and misused in forty years of gigantic labors, still lived on, deprived of memory, of sensation, of sight, but still alive.

The end came on August 13, 1910. She fell asleep about noon and did not wake again.

In an immensely long will, which finds a place in collections of legal curiosities, she divided her possessions with meticulous detail, distributing prints, books, furniture, and mementoes in hundreds of personal bequests. She expressed a wish "that no memorial whatever should mark the place where lies my Mortal Coil"; if this proved impossible she wished her body "to be carried to the nearest convenient burial ground accompanied by not more than two persons without trappings." A simple cross without her name, only with initials, and date of birth and death was to mark the spot. She also directed that her body should be given "for dissection or post-mortem examination for the purposes of Medical Science."

This was not done. But in deference to her wishes the offer of a national funeral and burial in Westminster Abbey was declined. She was buried in the family grave at East Wellow, and her coffin was carried by six sergeants of the British Army. Her only memorial is a line on the family tombstone "F. N. Born 1820. Died 1910." She had lived for ninety years and three months.

THE NIGHTINGALE PAPERS

THE VERNEY NIGHTINGALE PAPERS

THE HERBERT PAPERS

THE MOHL NIGHTINGALE CORRESPONDENCE

THE CORRESPONDENCE OF MISS HILARY BONHAM CARTER

THE CORRESPONDENCE OF MR. FREDERICK VERNEY

THE LEIGH SMITH PAPERS

REPORT UPON THE STATE OF THE HOSPITALS OF THE BRITISH ARMY IN THE

CRIMEA AND SCUTARI, TOGETHER WITH AN APPENDIX. Presented to both Houses of Parliament by command of Her Majesty, 1855. (The Hospitals Commission.)

REPORT TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD PANMUR.E, G.C.B., ETC., MINISTER AT WAR, OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE SANITARY COMMISSION DISPATCHED TO THE SEAT OF WAR IN THE EAST, 1855-56. Presented to both Houses of Parliament by command of Her Majesty, March 1857. (The Sanitary Commission.)

FIRST, SECOND AND THIRD REPORT FROM THE SELECT COMMITTEE ON THE ARMY BEFORE SEBASTOPOL; WITH THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE COMMITTEE. Ordered by the House of Commons to be printed, 1 March 1855. (The Roebuck Committee.)

REPORT OF THE COMMISSION OF INQUIRY INTO THE SUPPLIES OF THE BRITISH ARMY IN THE CRIMEA, WITH THE EVIDENCE ANNEXED. Presented to both Houses of Parliament by Command of Her Majesty, 1856. (The McNeill and Tulloch Commission.)

REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONERS APPOINTED TO INQUIRE INTO THE REGULATIONS AFFECTING THE SANITARY CONDITION OF THE ARMY, THE ORGANISATION OF MILITARY HOSPITALS, AND THE TREATMENT OF THE SICK AND WOUNDED; WITH EVIDENCE AND APPENDIX. Presented to both Houses of Parliament by Command of Her Majesty, 1858. (The Royal Sanitary Commission.)

ROYAL COMMISSION ON THE SANITARY STATE OF THE ARMY IN INDIA. REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONERS. PRÉCIS OF EVIDENCE. MINUTES OF EVIDENCE. ADDENDA, 1863. (The Indian Sanitary Commission.)

SUGGESTIONS IN REGARD TO SANITARY WORKS REQUIRED FOR IMPROVING INDIAN STATIONS. Prepared by the Barrack and Hospital Improvement Commission, 1864

MEMORANDUM OF MEASURES ADOPTED FOR SANITARY IMPROVEMENTS IN INDIA UP TO THE END OF 1867; TOGETHER WITH ABSTRACTS OF THE SANITARY REPORTS HITHERTO FORWARDED FROM BENGAL, MADRAS AND BOMBAY. Printed by order of the Secretary of State for India in Council, 1868. Ditto to the end of June 1869. Ditto to the end of June 1870. Ditto to the end of June 1872.

THE INSTITUTION OF KAISERSWERTH ON THE RHINE FOR THE PRACTICAL TRAINING OF DEACONESSES under the direction of the Rev. Pastor Fliedner, embracing the support and care of a Hospital, Infant and Industrial Schools, and a Female Penitentiary. Printed by the Inmates of the London Ragged Colonial Training School, 1851 .

LETTERS FROM EGYPT. Privately printed, 1854

STATEMENTS EXHIBITING THE VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTIONS RECEIVED BY MISS NIGHTINGALE FOR THE USE OF THE BRITISH HOSPITALS IN THE EAST, WITH THE MODE OF THEIR DISTRIBUTION, IN 1854, 1855, 1856. Harrison and Sons, 1857

NOTES ON MATTERS AFFECTING THE HEALTH, EFFICIENCY, AND HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATION OF THE BRITISH ARMY. FOUNDED CHIEFLY ON THE EXPERIENCE OF THE LATE WAR. PRESENTED By REQUEST TO THE SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR. Privately printed for Miss Nightingale. Harrison and Sons, 1858.

SUBSIDIARY NOTES AS TO THE INTRODUCTION OF FEMALE NURSING INTO MILITARY HOSPITALS IN PEACE AND IN WAR. PRESENTED BY REQUEST TO THE SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR. Privately printed for Miss Nightingale. Harrison and Sons, 1858.

A CONTRIBUTION TO THE SANITARY HISTORY OF THE BRITISH ARMY DURING THE LATE WAR WITH RUSSIA. Harrison and Sons, 1859.

NOTES ON HOSPITALS. John W. Parker and Sons, 1859. 3rd edition, almost completely rewritten, 1863. Longmans, Green and Co.

SUGGESTIONS FOR THOUGHT TO THE SEARCHERS AFTER TRUTH AMONG THE ARTIZANS OF ENGLAND. Privately printed for Miss Nightingale. 3 vols. Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1860.

NOTES ON NURSING: WHAT IT IS, AND WHAT IT IS NOT. By Florence Nightingale. 2 d ed. Harrison and Sons, 1860.

ARMY SANITARY ADMINISTRATION AND ITS REFORM UNDER THE LATE LORD HERBERT. M'Corquodale and Co., 1862.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE EVIDENCE CONTAINED IN THE STATIONAL REPORTS SUBMITTED TO THE ROYAL COMMISSION ON THE SANITARY STATE OF THE ARMY IN INDIA. By Florence Nightingale. (Reprinted from the Report of the Royal Commission), Edward Stanford, 1863. (The "Observations.")

INTRODUCTORY NOTES ON LYING-IN INSTITUTIONS. TOGETHER WITH A PROPOSAL FOR ORGANISING AN INSTITUTION FOR TRAINING MIDWIVES AND MIDWIFERY NURSES. By Florence Nightingale. Longmans, Green and Co., 1871.

LIFE OR DEATH IN INDIA. A paper read at the meeting of the National Association for the promotion of Social Science, Norwich, 1873. With an Appendix on life or death by irrigation, 1874.

THE ZEMINDAR, THE SUN, AND THE WATERING POT AS AFFECTING LIFE OR DEATH IN INDIA. Unpublished, proof copies among the Nightingale Papers, 1873-76.

ON TRAINED NURSING FOR THE SICK POOR. By Florence Nightingale. The Metropolitan and National Nursing Association, 1876.

MISS FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE'S ADDRESSES TO PROBATIONER-NURSES IN THE "NIGHTINGALE FUND" SCHOOL AT ST. THOMAS'S HOSPITAL AND NURSES WHO WERE FORMERLY TRAINED THERE, 1872-1900. Printed for private circulation.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE'S INDIAN LETTERS. A glimpse into the agitation for tenancy reform. Bengal, 1878-82. Edited by Priyaranjan Sen. Calcutta, 1937.

THE BRITISH EXPEDITION TO THE CRIMEA, by W. H. Russell, LL.D., The Times special correspondent. G. Routledge and Co., 1858.

A MEMOIR OF BARON BUNSEN. Drawn chiefly from family papers by his widow, Frances, Baroness Bunsen. 2 vols. Longmans, Green and Co., 1868.

CONSIDERATIONS ON THE MILITARY ORGANISATION OF THE BRITISH ARMY: Respectfully addressed to General His Royal Highness The Duke of Cambridge, K.G., G.C.B., G.C.M.G., Commander-in-Chief, etc. etc. etc. By General Sir Robert Gardiner, K.C.B., Royal Artillery. Byfield, Hawksworth, and Co., 1858.

CONSTANTINOPLE DURING THE CRIMEAN WAR. By Lady Hornby. Richard Bentley, 1863

CONVERSATIONS WITH M. THIERS, M. GUIZOT, and other distinguished persons during the SECOND EMPIRE. By the late William Nassau Senior, edited by his daughter, A C. M. Simpson. 2 vols. Hurst and Blackett, 1878.

THE CRIMEAN COMMISSION AND THE CHELSEA BOARD: being a Review of the Proceedings and Report of the Board, by Colonel Tulloch, late Commissioner in the Crimea. Harrison and Sons, 1857,

EMMA DARWIN. A CENTURY OF FAMILY LETTERS, 1792-1896. Edited by her daughter, Henrietta Litchfield. 2 vols. John Murray, 1915.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ELIZABETH DAVIS, a Balaclava Nurse. Edited by Jane Williams. 2 vols. Hurst and Blackett, 1857.

DELANE OF "THE TIMES." By Sir Edward Cook. Constable and Co., Ltd., 1915

DIARY OF THE CRIMEAN WAR. By Frederick Robinson, M.D., Assistant Surgeon, Scots Fusilier Guards. Richard Bentley, 1856.

EASTERN HOSPITALS AND ENGLISH NURSES: the Narrative of Twelve Months Experience in the Hospitals of Koulali and Scutari. By a Lady Volunteer. Hurst and Blackett, 1856.

ENGLAND AND HER SOLDIERS. By Harriet Martineau. Smith, Elder and Co., 1859.

ENGLISH NOTE-BOOKS. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. Kegan Paul, Trench and Company, 1883.

EXPERIENCES OF A CIVILIAN IN EASTERN MILITARY HOSPITALS. By Peter Pincoffs, M.D., late Civil Physician to the Scutari Hospitals. Williams and Norgate, 1857

EXPERIENCES OF AN ENGLISH SISTER OF MERCY. By Margaret Goodman. Smith, Elder and Co., 1862.

THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF SIR BARTLE FRERE. By John Martineau. 7. vols. John Murray, 1895

MRS. GASKELL AND HER FRIENDS. By Elizabeth Sanderson Haldane. Hodder and Stoughton, 1930

THE LIFE OF WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE. By John Morley- 3 vols. Macmillan and Co., 1903.

THOMAS GRANT, FIRST BISHOP OF SOUTHWARK. By Grace Ramsay (K. O'Meara). Smith, Elder and Co., 1874

THE GREVILLE MEMOIRS, 1814-1910. Edited by Lytton Strachey and Roger Fulford. 8 vols. Macmillan and Co., 1938.

MEMOIR OF SIDNEY HERBERT. Sidney Herbert, Lord Herbert 'of Lea. A Memoir by Lord Stanmore. John Murray, 1906.

HOSPITALS AND SISTERHOODS. John Murray, 1854,

INDIA CALLED THEM. By William Henry Beveridge. George Allen and Unwin, 1947.

THE INVASION OF THE CRIMEA: Its origin, and an account of its progress down to the death of Lord Raglan. By A. W. Kinglake, in 9 vols. 6th edition. William Blackwood and Sons, 1887.

THE LETTERS OF QUEEN VICTORIA. A selection of Her Majesty's correspondence between the years 1837 and 1861. Published by authority of His Majesty the King. Edited by Arthur Christopher Benson, M.A., and Viscount Esher- 3 vols. John Murray, 1907. Second Series, edited by George Earle Buckle, 1861-85- 3 vols. John Murray, 1926. Third series, edited by George Earle Buckle, 1866--1901. 3 vols. John Murray, 1930.

LIFE AND DEATH OF ATHENA, AN OWLET FROM THE PARTHENON. Privately printed, 1855

THE LIFE OF His ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE CONSORT. By Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B. 5 vols. Smith, Elder and Co., 1875-80

THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF SIR JOHN HALL, M.D., K.C.B., F.R.C.S. By S. M. Mitra. Longmans, Green and Co., 19 11.

LIFE AND LETTERS OF BENJAMIN JOWETT. By Evelyn Abbott and Lewis Campbell. 2 vols. John Murray, 1897.

THE LIFE OF LORD LAWRENCE. By Reginald Bosworth Smith. Nelson and Sons, 19a.

LORD LAWRENCE. By Sir Richard Temple. Macmillan and Co., 18go.

THE LIGHT CAVALRY BRIGADE IN THE CRIMEA. Extracts from the Letters and Journal of the late General Lord George Paget, K.C.B., during the Crimean War. John Murray, 188 1.

THE LIFE AND STRUGGLES OF WILLIAM LOVETT in his pursuit of Bread, Knowledge, and Freedom. With some short account of the different associations he belonged to, and of the opinions he entertained. Trübner and Co., 1876.

MEMOIR OF THE RT. HON. SIR JOHN McNEILL, G.C.B., and of his second wife, Elizabeth Wilson. By their Granddaughter. John Murray, 1910.

MEMORIES OF THE CRIMEA. By Sister Mary Aloysius. Bums and Oates, Limited, 1897.

THE LETTERS OF JOHN STUART MILL. Edited by Hugh S. R. Elliot. 2 vols. Longmans, Green and Co., 1910.

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES. The Life, Letters and Friendships of Richard Monckton Milnes, First Lord Houghton. By T. Wemyss Reid. Cassell and Co. Ltd., 1890.

MADAME MOHL. Her Salon and her Friends. A study of social life in Paris. By K. O'Meara. R. Bentley and Son, 1885

LETTERS AND RECOLLECTIONS OF JULIUS AND MARY MOHL. By M. C. M. Simpson. Kegan, Paul and Co., 1887.

THE CORRESPONDENCE OF JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, D.C.L. Edited by George William Curtis. John Murray, 1889.

A NARRATIVE of Personal Experiences and Impressions during Residence on the BOSPHORUS throughout the CRIMEAN WAR. By Lady Alicia Blackwood. Hatchard, 1881.

THE LIFE OF FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. By Sir Edward Cook. 2 vols. Macmillan and Co., 1913.

THE LIFE OF FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. By Sarah A. Tooley. Cassell and Co. Ltd., 1910.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE, 1820-1856. J. B. O'Malley. Thornton Butterworth, 1931.

A HISTORY OF NURSING. The Evolution of Nursing Systems from the Earliest Times to the Foundation of the First English and American Training Schools for Nurses. By M. Adelaide Nutting, R.N., and Lavinia L. Dock, R.N. G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1907.

PALMERSTON. By Philip Guedalla. Ernest Berm, 1926.

THE PANMURE PAPERS, being a selection from the correspondence of Fox Maule, second Baron Panmure, afterwards eleventh Earl of Dalhousie, K.T., G.C.B. Edited by Sir George Douglas, Bart., M.A., and Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay, C.B., late of the War Office, with a supplementary chapter by the late Rev. Principal Rainy, D.D. Hodder and Stoughton, 1908.

PIONEER WORK IN OPENING THE MEDICAL PROFESSION TO WOMEN, and AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. Elizabeth Blackwell, M.D. Longmans, Green and Co., 1895

HENRY PONSONBY. His Life from his letters, by Arthur Ponsonby. Macmillan and Co., 1943.

REMINISCENCES, Julia Ward Howe, 1899. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1900.

SCUTARI AND ITS HOSPITALS. By the Hon. and Rev. Sydney Godolphin Oshome. Dickinson Brothers, 1855

SEVASTOPOL. OUR TENT IN THE CRIMEA; AND WANDERINGS IN SEVASTOPOL. By Two Brothers. Richard Bentley, 1856.

SEVENTY-ONE YEARS OF A GUARDSMAN'S LIFE. By General Sir George Higginson, G.C.B., etc. John Murray, 1916.

THE EARL OF SHAFTESBURY, K.G. In Memoriam. October 1-9, 1885. Ragged School Union.

THE FIRST WOMAN DOCTOR. The Story of Elizabeth Blackwell M.D. By Rachel Baker. Julian Messner Inc. New York, 1944.

THE LIFE AND WORK OF THE SEVENTH EARL OF SHAFTESBURY, K.G. By Edwin Hodder. Cassell and Co., Ltd., 887

THE HISTORY OF ST. THOMAS' HOSPITAL. By F. G. Parsons, D.Sc., F.R.C.S., F.S.A- 3 vols. Methuen and Co. Ltd., 1932.

SKETCH OF THE HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF DISTRICT NURSING. By William Rathbone. Macmillan and Co., 1890.

SOYER'S CULINARY CAMPAIGN. Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War, with The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil Institutions, the Army, Navy, Public, etc. etc., by ALEXIS SOYER, author of "The Modern Housewife," "Shilling Cookery for the People," etc. G. Routledge and Co., 1857

THE STORY OF THE HIGHLAND BRIGADE IN THE CRIMEA. Founded on letters written during the years 1854, 1855, and 1856, by Lieutenant-Colonel Anthony Sterling. Remington on and Co., Ltd., 1895

WITH LORD STRATFORD IN THE CRIMEAN WAR. By James Henry Skene. Richard Bentley and Son, 1883

LIFE OF STRATFORD DE REDCLIFFE (VISCOUNT CANNING): from his Memoranda and Private and Official Papers, by S. Lane Poole. 2 vols. Longmans, Green and Co., 1888.

A HISTORY OF THE BRITISH ARMY. By the Hon. J. W. Fortescue. Vol. xiii. Macmillan and Co., 1930.