Mary Seacole – Mother of the Crimea

In 2007, just thirteen years ago, Mary Seacole was introduced to the UK National Curriculum. Her life story has since been taught to many children who previously would only have learnt about Seacole’s fellow nurse, Florence Nightingale. Indeed, interest in Seacole’s life has only very recently begun to resurface, the prejudices that she had to confront in life following her into death. As Salmon Rushdie said in his book, The Satanic Verses, “See, here is Mary Seacole, who did as much in the Crimea as another magic-lamping lady, but, being dark, could scarce be seen for the flame of Florence’s candle.”

Seacole was born in Kingston, Jamaica in 1805 to a free Jamaican mother and a Scottish father. Her mixed-race heritage was a great point of pride for her, as she displays in her autobiography, writing of her respect for them and acknowledging influences from both cultures in her life. It was her mother, in fact, from whom she learnt her medical skills – nicknamed the ‘Doctress’, she was a well-known healer in Jamaica who used traditional herbal medicines, which were often more effective than other remedies of the day. From her, Seacole gained experience treating a wide variety of diseases, among them cholera and dysentery, which would serve her exceptionally well in the Crimea.

She gained further medical knowledge on her travels with her husband, Edwin Horatio Seacole, to Panama, Haiti, Cuba, and the Bahamas. Their marriage only lasted eight years, ending with the death of her husband in 1844, which was quickly followed by her mother’s death. This was a tricky period for Seacole, particularly as the boarding house she and her mother ran had burnt down the year prior. Nevertheless, after a period of intense grief, she began working as a nurse again, aiding in a cholera epidemic in 1850.

Seacole was sorting business affairs in Panama when news of the Crimean War reached her. She immediately travelled to England and offered her services as a nurse, but she was refused.

A sketch of Mary Seacole by Crimean War artist, William Simpson, c. 1955

At nearly 50 and overweight, it’s true that Seacole was not the ideal candidate. However, she had brought with her a full complement of favourable references, and her extensive (and successful) medical career should have guaranteed her passage to the Crimea, where her skills would prove invaluable. Seacole put her rejection down to the subtle brand of racism that was pervasive in British society and, given the similar rejection of two other Black women, she appears to have been correct.

Not to be deterred, Seacole resolved to make her own way to the Crimea. She printed business cards which she sent ahead, announcing her intent to set up a ‘British Hotel’ for ill and wounded soldiers. During the voyage, she reunited with a doctor she had worked with in Jamaica, who wrote her a letter of introduction to Florence Nightingale.

Seacole and Nightingale only met once, when Seacole asked for a bed for the night at the latter’s hospital. The meeting appears to have been perfectly civil, though the pair never crossed paths again, and Nightingale later insinuated that Seacole spread ‘drunkenness and improper conduct’ among those under her care. However, there is no evidence for this.

As well as being a nurse, Seacole was an entrepreneur. Once in the Crimea, she had her British Hotel built, from which she ran a store selling desperately needed necessities such as bedding, linen, and coats, along with food and drink. Furthermore, though she would accept payment for treating those who could afford to, she never turned anyone away who could not.

‘Had I been allowed,’ she once said, she would have cared for patients exclusively. But travelling to the Crimea alone meant that it was on her to earn a living, too.

It seems no-one begrudged Seacole the charges, and she became beloved and respected among soldiers of all nationalities. Affectionately called ‘Mother Seacole’, she was a familiar face to the men. She would regularly visit military hospitals to treat the sick and injured and even went to the front lines. Several times, she would descend into the trenches amid gunfire to treat wounded soldiers, the men yelling ‘Get down, Mother,’ and helping her back to her feet once the danger passed. 

She was a figure of comfort to all and, just as they referred to her as ‘mother’, so she considered the soldiers her children.

…the grateful words and smile which rewarded me for binding up a wound or giving a cooling drink was a pleasure worth risking life for at any time.

Mary Seacole, in ‘The Wonderful Adventures of Mrs Seacole in Many Lands’
Mary Seacole, taken for a carte de viste by Maull & Company in London, 1873

The war ended on 30 March 1856. Seacole was one of the last to leave the Crimea, continuing to treat the wounded, and often visiting gravesites and trenches. Her experience of warfare made a great impact on her, and she writes in her autobiography how it saddened her whenever a soldier she had treated was killed.

Upon her return to England, Seacole was forced to declare bankruptcy, her kindness during the war having severe consequences. Yet, it was thanks to her kindness that she was able to get back on her feet again; the soldiers she had treated rallied to raise money for her, not once, but twice. Figures such as Queen Victoria, the Prince of Wales, and even Florence Nightingale donated to the fund and, alongside the success of her book, Seacole was able to live in comfort.

In 1870, she applied to offer her services in the Franco-Prussian war, but she was again rejected. This time, Seacole was 65 years of age, and her health had begun to fail. Additionally, she could not speak either French or German. 

Seacole lived in London for the rest of her life. In 1881, she suffered a severe stroke and died a month later on 14th May, aged 75. Her name soon faded from public memory, and it would take over a century for her legacy to recover. In 1990, the Jamaican government awarded her the Order of Merit, and in 2004 she was named the ‘Greatest Black Briton’.

Critics of Seacole’s reintroduction into public memory have suggested that her achievements are being promoted to such an extent that they are overwriting Florence Nightingale’s. I would argue not; either way, it must be acknowledged that both women shaped the future of nursing, and that there is no reason why they cannot co-exist in history.

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