Yes, Mary Seacole was Black. So what?

I confess that until recently I had never heard of Mary Seacole. But, like Boris Johnson, who found himself in this position a few years ago, that reflects poorly on me, not on the redoubtable Seacole.

Brother Liddle says that her inclusion upon new lists of eminent Victorians can only be explained “solely and utterly because she was black”. That she was and doubtless that does indeed have something to do with her renewed prominence. But what of it? (I say renewed prominence, incidentally, because it is quite clear that her contemporaries regarded her as a figure of some stature.)

And if she is only remembered today “because she was black” then, who knows, perhaps her disappearance from history for a century or more also had something to do with the colour of her skin. Perhaps not. I don’t know. Nor do I much care.

Only a fathead could imagine that there’s some kind of competition between Seacole and Florence Nightingale, but only a fathead would assume that it’s only legitimate to learn about one of them.