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scriptural nor truly Catholic. In her Voices from the Cross a short verse is indicative of the tone which worshippers of her school impart to worship.
“Alone, in weariness and pain
For me that bitter cry;
As the long hours rolled by.
Hide me from all my sin ;
O let me enter in. Amen."
A still stronger note of foreign sentimentality, and one that induces sensuous ideas of God, is to be heard in the same writer's monody on the word I thirst. After fixing the image of living waters by describing the rivers of paradise that went through Eden to water the garden and from thence parted into four heads, Mrs. Streatfield ecstasizes :
“O blessed Cross of Jesus! Here alone may we look for the living waters ! Each limb of the Cross is a stream of life for the sinner, for there we behold the Blood of JESUS, and if we dare raise our eyes still farther, those four sacred outlets of a Saviour's love are leading us to the centre of all, even the Sacred Heart which is pierced and bleeding to give us life. Here then is a pure River, clear as crystal, the streams whereof make glad the City of God; and it issues from the Throne, for is not the Heart of JESUS the height, the centre of all our adoration ?"
Is this scriptural ? Is it Catholic ? The altar of the Sacred Heart is not the high altar even in Roman churches. Word-pictures of this kind bear the same relation to true Catholic devotion as do the bedizened statues of the Saviour, the Virgin Mary, the saints and the rest, that point with painted fingers to the hole in their sky-blue vestures, wherein is hung the horrible jewel of a lacerated vermilion heart. There may have been a time when the bloody effect in art, so fascinating to Latins of debased ideals, and to the ignorant and the brutal of all races, was of use in the Church to stir up rough consciences to
a sense of real passion suffered. But it is demoralizing now to invoke such sights in the house of God.
Yet the extreme High Church party has not the monopoly of this tendency. The hymns of revivalists err greatly in this direction. Such effusions as Hold Thou my hand, In the secret of Thy presence, and May I come in? though irreverently intimate, are being constantly used by Churchwomen in Bible-class and other work, and are better discarded than employed. These lucubrations are not the invention of Churchwomen, yet for their tone and tendency Churchwomen have responsibility. Frances Ridley Havergal was not blameless in this respect, though by her personal self-denials and the high intention of her work she proved herself incapable of designing the unworthy. Even as incapable of conscious irreverence is, one feels sure, the authoress of Voices from the Cross. But the virtue of restraint in religion and in art is a great virtue. It is not for the good of the Church that sentimental expressions of religious feeling, which have long been considered peculiar to foreign books of devotion, should be multiplied in manuals and hymn-books. Neither is it advisable for Churchwomen to reproduce the ecstasies of the extreme Evangelicals. It is not every one that can write an epithalamium in which only the utmost severity can detect irreverence and an undue emotionalism, though Frances Ridley Havergal came near accomplishing the task in Thou art coming, O my Saviour, Thou art coming, o my King.
SISTERHOODS, DEACONESSES, NURSES, PAROCHIAL
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE, SISTER DORA,” HARRIET MONSELL,
LYDIA SELLON, CATHERINE STANLEY, MARIA HARE, CATHA-
In the year 1845 a community of women desirous of devoting their lives to good works was founded upon the initiative of Dr. Pusey and Lord John Manners—afterwards Duke of Rutland. This small sisterhood began work in a house in Osnaburgh Street, Regent's Park, London, their chief employment being the nursing of the sick.
This outcome of the Oxford Movement may be considered as the first introduction into the English Church, since the Reformation, of a definite community life. The monastic family life of the Ferrars family in the times of James I. and Charles I. cannot be reckoned a sisterhood in the ordinary sense. Nicholas Ferrar and his mother formulated for the “ Nuns of Gidding,” who were Mrs. Ferrar's granddaughters, a simple and effective plan of communal life which included much service of the sanctuary. But their methods were too idiosyncratic to be regarded as truly conventual. When, late in the seventeenth century, Mary Astell, with the sympathy and help of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings, desired to found a nunnery strictly on Church of England lines, Bishop Burnet opposed her design. He said it would provoke the idea that the Church was turning Romeward, and, although Mrs. Astell contended, as was a fact, that her plan was rather academical than monastic, she abandoned it rather than give occasion for stumbling.
Upon the outbreak of the Crimean War, many of the sisters of Dr. Pusey's house in Regent's Park, went out to nurse the wounded. Their “superior" in that undertaking was a Churchwoman of “Low”—not narrow—views, one Florence Nightingale. The writing woman–Anna Jameson—had proposed the formation in England, upon the model of Pastor Fliedner's institutions in Germany, of Protestant nunneries, i.e. training-schools and communitydwellings for women prepared to devote their lives to God's poor. The doing woman-Florence Nightingale—was not content to put forth propositions. She went to the institutions recommended and studied the methods of nursing there, working shoulder to shoulder with women of a social class inferior to her own, deeming no task menial if performed for the cure and comfort of God's sick and suffering.
The story has been told too often to allow of repetition here, of Florence Nightingale's life of activity; in particular of that part of it that concerns her association with the Crimean War, and her appointment as lady-in-chief of the nursing staff, with the guarantee of the British Government that her position in the military hospital at Scutari should be one of undisputed authority. “A lady with a lamp” she has been and, at eighty-seven years of age, mercifully, is. For many reforms Florence Nightingale has been light-bearer. She is one of but two or three real heroines of the people of England. Her celebrity is unique. We know how her bravery, her sympathy and her indefatigability in hospital wards, her powers of organization and her various books on nursing, have revolutionized her calling. More than any other body—the creator of “Sarah Gamp” himself included—we have to thank Florence Nightingale for exterminating Sarah Gamps.
We have outlived the days when the wonder was that a lady could become a hospital nurse, and the uniforms of nurses have come to be almost commoner objects in the streets of our large towns than those of policemen or soldiers. To Queen Victoria, as well as to our present Majesties, society owes much for the multiplication of nurses and of nursing agencies. The establishment of district nurses was a glory of the Jubilee of Queen Victoria, worthy of her who took such an intensely sympathetic interest in the pioneer labours of Florence Nightingale. The head nurse of a hospital ward is always termed the “sister,” yet Florence Nightingale made no “profession" of devotion, and we have ceased to consider nurses as being necessarily “sisters-of-charity,” or as having a religious vocation for their office. Nursing is now a paid profession, and the religion or irreligion of a nurse is a personal matter concerning which in most hospitals and training institutes, no inquiry is made. By this system something is lost to the modern nurse that was in her forerunner. In many instances the professional feeling has done away with sympathy in nurses to a lamentable extent. The absence of sentimentality in nurses is a good thing; the lack of religion is bad. But it would be purely captious to criticize the great body of nurses, or to say that the professional element of their calling is made too much of. These things ought ye to have done, and not to have left the other undone. On the whole, the gain to society of the general establishment of trained nurses is so enormous, that it could only be calculated if by some extraordinary revolution of the existing state of things, we were deprived of them. And that this class of social helpers and individual consolers exists, is due primarily to the inspiration of that ever honourable Churchwoman, Florence Nightingale, and her immediate and most religious followers.
It has been said that Florence Nightingale, with her "old-fashioned ” Low Church views and her truly humble heart, became the “superior" of the sisters trained in the “Puseyite" community of St. Saviour. Under her direction there came also the “ daughters ” of St. John's House, who have now their headquarters in South Kensington; some nurses from Miss Sellon's Home and ten Roman Catholic sisters-of-mercy, besides some selected individually. Of all these aides-de-camp of Miss Nightingale, only those who came from the Anglican sisterhoods demurred to the rule of strict obedience to the lady-in-chief. The Roman Catholic bishop unhesitatingly signed an agree