And matters grew worse and worse, as one great battle after another sent its dreadful fruits to the already overflowing hospital at Scutari. On October 25th came Balaklava; on November 5th, Inkerman.
You have all read " The Charge of the Light Brigade "; yet I ask you to read it again here, so that it may fit into its place in the story of this terrible war. Remember, it is only one incident of that great battle of Balaklava, in which both sides claimed the victory, while neither gained any signal advantage.
Half a league, half a league,* Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said;
Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!'* Was there a man dismayed? Not though the solider knew
Someone had blundered; Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered. Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well; Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six hundred.
* " Charge of the Light Brigade," by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air, Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while
All the world wondered; Plunged in the battery-smoke, Right through the hne they broke, Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke,
Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not —
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them
Volleyed and thundered: Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell. They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell — All that was left of them.
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made! Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
I have already spoken of William Howard Russell. He was the war correspondent of the Times, the great English newspaper, and a man of intelligence, heart and feeling. He was on the spot, and saw the horrors of the war at first-hand. His heart was filled with sorrow and pity for the suffering around him, and with indignation that so little was done to relieve it; and he wrote day after day home to England, telling what he saw and what was needed. Soon after Balaklava he wrote:
" Are there no devoted women amongst us, able and willing to go forth to minister to the sick and suffering soldiers of the^East in the hospitals at Scutari? Are there none of the daughters of England, at this extreme hour of need, ready for such a work of mercy? France has sent forth her Sisters of Mercy unsparingly, and they are even now by the bedsides of the wounded and the dying, giving what woman's hand alone can give of comfort and relief. Must we fall so far below the French in self-sacrifice and devotedness, in a work which Christ so signally blesses as done unto Himself? * I was sick and ye visited me.' '*
This was the trumpet call that rang in the ears of the women of England, sounding a clearer note than all the clarions of victory. We shall see how j it was answered. i
CHAPTER VII.
R. SIDNEY HERBERT (afterwards Lord Herbert of Lea) was at this time at the head of the War Department in England. He was a man of noble nature and tender heart, whose whole life was spent in doing good, and in helping those who needed help. He heard with deep distress the dreadful tidings of suffering that came from the Crimea, and his heart responded instantly to the call for help. Yes, the women of England must rise up and go to that far, desolate land to tend and nurse the sick and wounded and dying; but who should lead them? What one woman had the strength, the power, the wisdom, the tenderness, to meet and overcome the terrible conditions? Asking himself this question, Mr. Herbert answered without a moment's hesitation: "Florence Nightingale! "
He knew Miss Nightingale well; she was a dear friend of himself and his beautiful wife, and had again and again given them help and counsel in planning and managing their many charities, hospitals, homes for sick children, and so forth. He knew that she possessed all the qualities needed for this work, and he wrote to her, asking if she would undertake it. Would she, he asked, go out to Scutari, taking with her a band of nurses who would be under her orders, and take charge of the hospital nursing?
He did not make light of the task.