CHAPTER XIV

SEVASTOPOL AND BALAKLAVA

When the Crimea was annexed to Russia in 1783, Prince Potemkin recognized the natural strength and military advantages of a village called Ak-yar and the marine advantages of its harbour, which is a narrow, deep fiord, extending inward several miles between low hills. A few weeks after the treaty was signed which gave Russia sovereignty over the peninsula, Catherine the Great, upon his recommendation, issued an edict directing the creation of a military and naval station and a fortress at that point.

She passed two days here in 1787 and rechristened the place with a combination of two Greek words: Sevastos-polis, which means, in English, “honoured” or “august city.” From that time Sevastopol (it is pronounced Sevas-tow-pol--with the accent on the “tow”--) next to Cronstadt, the Gibraltar of the north, has been the most strongly fortified place in Russia, the military and naval headquarters of the Black Sea, with a shipyard for the construction of vessels, shops for the manufacture of guns, engines, and other machinery and equipment, both military and naval; and the natural advantages have been improved with such skill and expense as to make the finest and best equipped military harbour in Europe. Sevastopol is purely a military town. Every resident is either connected with the army or navy, or is dependent upon one or the other branches of that service.

The city was almost entirely destroyed during the Crimean war, but was immediately rebuilt and made stronger than ever. The Crimean war was the result of the intervention of Great Britain, France, and Sardinia for the protection of Turkey against the aggressive movements of Russia, which insisted upon a treaty with the sultan giving the czar the protectorate over all members of the Greek Church in his dominion, who comprise about three fourths of the population of Turkey in Europe. This claim could not be conceded by Turkey without ceasing to remain an independent state, and war was declared against Russia in March, 1854. England and France sent fleets and armies to support Turkey and a campaign was fought on the Danube to resist the Russian invasion. Fleets of transports, loaded with Sardinians, French, and British troops were sent to the Black Sea, through the Bosphorus, and landed at Varna, which is now the port of Bulgaria, in April and May, 1854, but cholera broke out there, and in September following, an army of 25,000 British, 25,000 French, and 8,000 Turks was transferred to the Crimea, and disembarked thirty miles north of Sevastopol, where they fought the battle of Alam and commenced the siege of Sevastopol.

The Battle of Balaklava followed on the 25th of October and that of Inkerman on the 5th of November. Inkerman was known as the soldiers’ battle, because of the absence of officers of high rank. The British camp was surprised by the Russians on a dark and drizzly morning when most of the officers were absent, and the soldiers sustained a hand to hand fight against five times their number of Russians until 6,000 French came to their aid and completed the rout of the enemy.

Balaklava was one of the fiercest battles ever fought and will be ever remembered for the charge of the Light Brigade. No more spectacular exhibition of nerve and courage was ever witnessed, and the act was performed before an audience of 50,000 men. The charge of Pickett’s division of the confederate army at the battle of Gettysburg was made by several times the number of men and was repeated again and again each time they were driven back. For desperate tenacity of purpose and heroic determination, the charge of the First Minnesota infantry at Gettysburg is more notable, but for dramatic effect nothing could exceed the charge of the 600--or in reality 723--English cavalrymen, who in obedience to a mistaken order, rode a mile and a half between two Russian lines, under a murderous fire of musketry to silence a battery that had been seriously harassing the British position.

The British forces suffered severely in the campaign, more than the French or the Sardinians, and almost as much as the Russians. The Turks suffered least of all, notwithstanding the fact that the war was fought in their behalf. They were an insignificant factor in the struggle.

The war was famous for two of the most notable events in military history--the siege of Sevastopol and the charge of the Light Brigade. The siege lasted thirteen months, until the Russians were absolutely starved out. They have always asserted that with food they might have resisted forever. The city was assaulted four times “with infernal fire,” and an appalling sacrifice of life, without making much impression. It was not the assaults that brought Sevastopol down, but the persistence of the siege. Military critics have often said that it was a war of spades and not of guns. The entrenchments of the allies were gradually advanced until the city was like a body of men wrapped in the coils of an anaconda. The situation being no longer tenable, as soldiers say, the Russians spiked their guns, blew up their magazines and fortifications, burned their storehouses, sunk every floating thing in the harbour, and evacuated, Sept. 10, 1855, having lost in the siege, according to their own accounts, 2,684 killed, 7,342 wounded, and 1,763 missing. The Russian losses in the several battles which preceded the siege were more than 30,000 killed and wounded. The French cemetery contains 28,000 graves, most of them marked.

After the Russians retired, the allies took possession of the ruins of the city and remained until peace was declared.

The English losses were placed at 30,000. The unusual severity of the winter, the lack of food, clothing, blankets, medicines, and other necessaries caused terrible hardship and suffering, and more than 18,000 British soldiers died of disease, which is ten times as many as were killed in battle during the entire campaign.

The trouble with the British army in the Crimea was the same that appeared in the South African war fifty years later; the same that prevailed on the part of the United States during our recent war with Spain, a condition that military students are always warning each other against, but seldom providing for. Although England went into the war voluntarily, intervening for the protection of Turkey in an affair which was of no direct interest to the government or the people of Great Britain, both the army and the navy, in every department, were totally unprepared. Upon the arrival of the troops at the Crimea, they were absolutely without necessary supplies of food, clothing, ammunition, and indeed practically everything else. The medical department was without drugs, instruments, litters, and all other requirements.

General Sir Evelyn Wood, in his history of the Crimean War, says:

“The neglect of all preparation for war during the forty years of peace foredoomed the gallant army which left England in 1854, and general mismanagement led it to the verge of annihilation. England’s futility cost her dear in treasure, reputation, in blood; but the victims of her short-sighted parsimony sustained the honour of Englishmen, and with ragged clothes, muddy tents, and empty stomachs enriched the best traditions of the service, past and to come.”

To make bad matters worse, a gale of unprecedented fury struck the British fleet lying outside the little harbour of Balaklava and wrecked twenty-one vessels, including the _Resolute_, a frigate, several loaded transports, and a magazine ship laden with 10,000,000 rounds of rifle and gun ammunition. General Wood says:

“She had been sent outside the harbour after the battle of Balaklava, when we were apprehensive for the safety of the place. The _Prince_, one of our largest transports, went down laden with warm clothing and stores of all descriptions. It was, however, as unreasonable as it was unjust to attempt to fasten the blame for the helpless muddle which ensued on those in the Crimea. It was caused mainly by the neglect to maintain the departments of the army during forty years of peace. It was easy to criticise the conduct of our generals, but it should be remembered that the government by very decided instructions had urged them on to the undertaking of a great task with inadequate means.”

During the winter following the evacuation, Nicholas, the iron czar, whose ambition to emulate Peter the Great and Catherine II, the most famous of his ancestors, was the cause of the war, died. His brother, Alexander II, a man of less determination and greater humanity, sought the intervention of Austria, and peace was arranged Feb. 26, 1856. A treaty was signed at Paris a few weeks later by all the powers of Europe, in which the integrity and territory of the Ottoman Empire were guaranteed. Russia was compelled to agree to abandon Sevastopol as a military and naval station, not to fortify her coast, nor keep more than six gunboats of a maximum of 800 tons each on the Black Sea. These pledges, made under pressure, were repudiated by Russia as soon as she was strong enough to do so. Sevastopol was not only strengthened in its fortifications, but reinforced by a large fleet of battleships and cruisers, and finally in 1876–77 the efforts of Alexander II to drive the Turk out of Europe and emancipate Bulgaria, Rumelia, Bosnia, Servia, Hertzegovia and Montenegro caused another war which was more successful than that of the Crimea, and added much territory to the Russian Empire and won much prestige for the Russian armies.

Sevastopol is to-day stronger than ever, the headquarters of a large army and a large fleet of battle ships, cruisers, torpedo boats, submarines and destroyers. New barracks are being erected, the machine-shops and arsenals have been refitted with modern machinery, and Russia is preparing for any opportunity that may offer to recover the prestige she lost in the late war with Japan. The little city of Sevastopol, which has about forty thousand inhabitants, occupies a very picturesque situation upon a low promontory or hog’s back, as such formations are usually called, about one hundred and fifty feet high in the centre, and sloping gradually to the water on both sides. Viewed from the sea the city looks much larger than it is, and the white walls of the buildings glisten in the sun. On one shore is an estuary given up to commerce. On the other side of the ridge is the naval harbour, or inner bay, with a narrow entrance, defended by two old-fashioned forts with square portholes, like those in the harbour of New York. The outer bay is also strongly fortified, but the batteries are modern and are masked, and it is difficult for a stranger to identify them.

At the beginning of the War of 1855 the entrance to the harbour was blockaded in the same way that Hobson tried to bottle up Santiago de Cuba. The Russians had a large fleet of rotten old wooden ships. They were quite as good as any the Turks had, and Russia did not anticipate the intervention of England and France, whose men-of-war were very powerful in comparison. The Russian Admiral Kazarsky, in command of the Russian ships, proposed to attack the British ships whether or no, grapple them, blow them up and go down with them, but the Russian authorities would not permit such a sacrifice of human life as the scheme involved. So it was decided to use the hulls for defensive rather than offensive purposes, and the entire fleet of the czar was scuttled and sunk at the entrance of the harbor of Sevastopol. Providence took care of the British fleet and sent a storm which wrecked twenty-one of the vessels off the entrance to the little harbour of Balaklava.

On the opposite side of the harbour from the town is the naval station, reached by ferry boats which cross every few minutes. Immense buildings--barracks for sailors and marines, hospitals, machine-shops, arsenals, warehouses, sail lofts, and other structures--cover an area of several hundred acres and extend up the side of the harbour into the hills which surround the city on the north. There are tall smokestacks rising in the air, and long docks and piers running into the water. The officers’ houses are quite attractive in their situation and appearance, and form a city of themselves. The commandant is also the governor-general of the district, which seems a good idea, because in that way rivalry, controversy, and conflict of authority, such as constantly occurs in India and other places that might be mentioned, is avoided. The present governor-general has a charming wife and family, who speak English perfectly, having lived for several years in London, where he was naval attaché of the Russian embassy. His official residence is on the point of the promontory, in the centre of the town, where he can overlook everything and everybody.

On both shores of the harbour are dry docks, yards for the building of ships, and long rows of obsolete gunboats and transports of ancient design. Near where the passenger steamers land is a yard for building smaller craft and at present large gangs of men are at work upon long, narrow torpedo boats, a dozen or more keels having been laid in a row.

At the passenger dock is a custom-house, fronting a large square, with a park and a promenade, bathing-houses, an outdoor theatre, restaurants, cafés, a skating rink, and a concert stand, where the band plays every afternoon and evening. The social life of the citizens centres there during the summer months. Everybody comes out in the evening. Many families take their dinner there and entertain their friends, and the scene is animated and enlivened by a large number of army and navy officers in resplendent uniforms.

There is another park at the opposite end of the town, and a much larger one, which was the site of the strongest fortifications during the siege. Some of the old earthworks remain as relics, piles of sandbags, basket-work, and trenches. The rest have been levelled, the ground has been planted with trees and laid off into walks, drives, and gardens. In the centre is a permanent building for the exhibition of a panorama of the siege, but the original picture has been removed to St. Petersburg and replaced with one representing the battle with Circassian cavalry during the invasion of Daghestan.

There are several imposing monuments also, the most notable being in honour of General Todleben, the engineer who designed and constructed the defenses of the city at the time of the siege. He is regarded as the greatest hero of the war, and shortly after the recovery of Sevastopol by Russians he was presented with a handsome residence on the main street. It is now occupied for official purposes.

In the public square in front of the custom-house is a striking bronze figure of Admiral Nazanikin, who captured two Turkish frigates with one small brig in the war of 1829.

A little way up the street is a memorial church, erected to the memory of four admirals, Nakhimoff, Lazareff, Korniloff, and Istomin, all of whom were conspicuous in the siege. Lazareff and Korniloff were both killed at the battle of Malikoff Hill, near which the British cemetery is located. This hill is called after a warrant officer in the Russian navy, who lived on the site of the cemetery and was the grandfather of the famous French marshal of that name.

Admiral Lazareff was educated in England, held a commission as midshipman in the British navy for several years, and served under Lord Nelson at the battle of Trafalgar.

There are imposing statues located in various parts of the city to Admirals Kornkioff and Nashkioff and several other heroes of the siege.

There is a memorial chapel for Prince Gorchakoff, commander-in-chief of the Russian forces during the siege. He died in 1861 and was brought there for burial at his own request.

There is a charming little museum of pure classic architecture, containing relics of the siege and of the men who were engaged upon the Russian side.

Each nation has its own cemetery, in which the dead of the Crimean War are buried. The Russian cemetery is the largest and occupies the slopes of a hill across the outer bay from the city. In the centre is a pyramid of stone 105 feet high, erected by the government in honour of the officers and soldiers who fell in the siege, and surrounding it are the graves of 38,000 soldiers.

The French cemetery contains 28,000 graves, and the British cemetery only about 1,800, nearly all of the bodies of the dead having been taken back to England. Several famous men are resting there, including Major-general Sir John Campbell, who, the inscription upon his monument tells us, was killed in action, June 18, 1855. His brother, Major-general Colin Campbell, was also conspicuous on the British side and afterward distinguished himself in the Indian Mutiny of 1857.

Sir George Cathcart, lieutenant-general, commanding the fourth division of the British army, was also killed in action. By a strange coincidence, he had served in the Russian army against Napoleon in 1813 and 1814, just as Admiral Lazareff had served with Nelson. Sir George Cathcart was killed at the battle of Inkerman, wearing upon his breast three decorations which had been bestowed upon him for bravery by the Russian czar when he was a young man.

A cottage in which Lord Raglan, commander of the British forces, died, overlooks the battlefield of Balaklava. It was the headquarters of the British army and was known as Vracker’s farmhouse, but it is now occupied and owned by a Russian named Maximovitch, who has a large vineyard. A sign on his gate reads: “Alpha Vineyard.”

A stone slab under a tree in the garden marks the place where Lord Raglan used to sit in his last illness, brooding over the unjust criticisms that were directed at his conduct of the campaign. In one of the rooms is a tablet inscribed: “In this room died Field Marshal Lord Raglan, G. C. B., Commander in Chief of the British army of the Crimea, 28th June, 1855.”

On the door of the house are the names of Raglan, Simpson, and Cedrington, the three officers who commanded the British army during the campaign.

The British have been more careful and more thoughtful in preserving the remembrances of their share in the campaign than either of the other nations, and the cemetery and other spots identified with their men are preserved in perfect order under the direction of Douglas Young, the British consul, who also looks after American interests at Sevastopol.

A trolley line encircles the city of Sevastopol, and extends into the suburbs, with open cars which are more comfortable than carriages, because of the rough stone pavements in the streets. There is a military and naval club, many attractive shops, and several churches, including a replica of the Temple of Thesus at Athens.

There are several good hotels, the chief one being close to the passenger landing. It is neat and well kept, and has an excellent cook, but the charges are as high as those of the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, or the Savoy in London, with petty extortions that exasperate travellers, particularly Americans, to the limit of patience. No one objects to a straight bill at so much per day, even if the total is excessive, but when you are charged for candles and soap that you don’t use, for the use of towels and the bed linen, for the ordinary stationery that is always supplied free elsewhere, and for the use of the newspapers in the public reading-room, a righteous indignation is excited.

These impositions, which are common all over Russia, are merely a gamble. If a guest objects to them they are stricken off the bill; but if he pays them without protest rather than make a row, as most Americans do, the landlord is so much ahead. And what makes it more aggravating than all is to realize that you are being purposely imposed upon simply to test your forbearance.

The battlefield of Balaklava is carpeted with flowers, and the poppies are so thick upon the meadow where the charge of the Light Brigade was made that it looks like a field of blood. There are patches of purple flowers whose name I do not know, and the road which winds around the battlefield has a hedge of sweetbriar roses, which are covered with pink blossoms. You cannot imagine a more peaceful landscape than the gentle slope of that beautiful valley, lying between two low ridges, which on the morning of Oct. 25, 1855, was covered with 40,000 spectators--Englishmen, Frenchmen, Russians, Sardinians, and Turks, involuntary and astonished witnesses of one of the most reckless exhibitions of human courage ever seen, and one of the most useless sacrifices of human life. No arena could have been arranged for a better view of the spectacle. And to-day the landscape is precisely as it was then, except that the valley is now dotted with several farmhouses surrounded by groves of locust and shrubbery and a Chicago windmill stands in the centre.

The spot where the dragoons started, where Earl Cardigan, the impetuous young Irishman, who commanded the Light Brigade, gave his one and only word of command during the charge, is marked by a marble shaft and the pedestal is inscribed:

“Erected by the British army to the memory of their comrades who fell at Balaklava.”

That word of command was: “Left wheel into line! Forward, march!” Not a word was spoken after that.

Where stood the battery which was the object of assault is now a cherry orchard.

Water is very scarce upon the battlefield of Balaklava; all the farmers have is pumped up by the Chicago windmill, and hauled in casks to the neighbouring houses. Every drop used to water the English cemetery is hauled half a mile.

There were two splendid cavalry charges at the battle of Balaklava, one by 300 heavy dragoons under command of Major-general Scarlett and the other by the light cavalry under command of the Earl of Cardigan. The former, from a military standpoint, was remarkably successful, because three squadrons of Englishmen surprised, demoralized, and practically put to rout two brigades of Russian cavalry, numbering nearly three thousand men. The latter, although one of the most spectacular displays of human daring in all history, was of comparatively no effect and was the result of a misunderstanding of orders.

The scene of those two cavalry charges is a wide and beautiful valley between two low ridges about two miles south of the picturesque little port of Balaklava. The British troops had taken possession of the ridge north of this valley, were throwing up earthworks, and completing their camp, when, on the evening of Oct. 24, 1855, Rustem Pasha, in command of the Turkish contingent, sent word to Lord Raglan, in command of the British troops, that the Russians were preparing for a surprise attack the next morning. As there had been already more than one false alarm, Lord Raglan contented himself with asking for an immediate report of any further news and no extra precautions were taken.

Shortly after daylight the next morning General Scarlett, with eight squadrons of heavy dragoons, started out on a reconnoissance, and as he passed over the ridge came plump upon the flank of a brigade of Russian cavalry, about three thousand strong, which was advancing quietly upon the British position. Both forces were moving without scouts or flankers, and thus neither of the cavalry generals, whose men were soon to be in close personal conflict, was aware of the movements of his adversary. When General Scarlett realized the situation he immediately gave the command to charge and plunged directly into the centre of the Russian line, which was only about two hundred yards distant. But the order was heard by only three of the eight squadrons, the other five having passed on the other side of a narrow vineyard. Scarlett’s movement, however, was distinctly seen by the rest of the army and the witnesses say that when the three troops of dragoons dashed into the Russian ranks they were entirely engulfed, but, with their sabers they hacked their way through with such impetuosity that in eight minutes they were entirely clear. The shock and the surprise threw the Russian troops into such confusion that they practically fled from the field, pursued on both flanks by the other British troops.

Scarlett lost seventy-eight men in the charge. The Russians lost about six hundred.

During this extraordinary episode the Light Brigade, under the command of Earl Cardigan, remained motionless because the commander believed that Lord Lucan, in command of the cavalry, had given him orders to defend the position on which he stood against any attack, and on no account to leave it.

The Earl of Cardigan was an Irish peer, fifty-seven years old, rich, reckless and popular, notorious for his love affairs, famous as a sportsman and as a rider to hounds, resolute in purpose, a dare-devil with a terrible temper, and entirely without military experience. He owed his rank and prominence in the army to the purchase system and to the favour of the Duke of York, and although he had a passionate love for military affairs, unfaltering courage and a strong sense of duty, his inexperience alone would have unfitted him for any responsibility. He had fought two duels. One of the quarrels was over the colour of a bottle; the other was over the size of a teacup. At the time of the famous charge, although a brigade commander of troops in the field, he was living on board a yacht in the harbour of Balaklava by permission of Lord Lucan, his brother-in-law, commander of the cavalry, while the officers and men under him as well as his superiors, were cheerfully bearing the hardships and privations of camp life.

Thus the Earl of Cardigan had nothing to recommend him for his command but his courage and horsemanship.

The Light Brigade had seen their comrades of the Heavy Dragoons achieve one of the most brilliant cavalry victories ever recorded, and were naturally impatient to emulate their example, when an order was brought to Lord Lucan by a young lieutenant, named Nolan, which read as follows:

“Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front and try to prevent the enemy carrying away the guns. Troop of horse artillery may accompany. The French cavalry is on your left. Immediate.”

From the spot where Lord Lucan received this order no Russians were visible, and he asked sharply:

“Attack, sir! Attack what guns?”

Nolan replied with an insulting tone, pointing in an easterly direction:

“There, My Lord, is your enemy, and there are your guns.”

Lord Lucan rode across to where the Light Brigade was impatiently waiting, and communicated the order to Lord Cardigan, who gave the command and led his troops down the valley at a slow trot. Shortly after the advance began, Nolan, the aide who had brought the order, galloped across their front, shouting and pointing with his sword toward a Russian battery in a hollow a mile and a half distant. Lord Cardigan understood that Nolan was indicating the object of the charge, but the latter was unable to give any further information, for he was instantly struck by a shell which tore away his chest. His horse continued on a gallop and his body remained for some seconds erect in the saddle.

The floor of the valley is as smooth as a race course; there is a gentle slope the entire distance, which is about a mile and a quarter, but on the west and south sides were masses of Russian troops and in front a battery of twelve guns, so that the brigade was subjected to a cross fire of musketry and a direct fire of artillery the entire distance.

It is estimated that the entire movement lasted but twenty minutes, and that Cardigan rode at the rate of seventeen miles an hour. His troops were composed of the flower of the army, life guards, lancers, hussars, and light dragoons. Most of them were English and Irishmen, and several noblemen were among the officers. The command kept its formation with remarkable skill, considering that so many of their comrades fell from their saddles, but nearly all the riderless horses maintained their positions until the battery was reached. The gunners were sabered, the guns were turned upon their owners and the greater part of the survivors of the Light Brigade threw themselves furiously upon a line of Russian cavalry which was supporting the battery in the rear.

The French Chasseurs d’Afrique, which had observed the movement with astonishment, came to the rescue of the Englishmen, and the latter made their way back singly and in squads to headquarters.

Out of 723 officers and men who followed the Earl of Cardigan down that valley only 195 came back.

General Sir Evelyn Wood says: “It was a glorious failure, as the charge of the Heavy Dragoons was an astounding success, but Lord Tennyson’s enthusiastic pen blinded the public to the military value of the two exploits, and thus the determined gallantry shown in the attack of the three squadrons of the heavy brigade has remained comparatively unappreciated.”

Of course a controversy followed and it lasted for many years in the war office, in the newspapers, in the clubs, in parliament, and wherever men and women talked of the war. Cardigan showed a manly spirit in the controversy as he had shown unparalleled bravery in leading the charge. He had never been under fire before. He had never had the responsibility of actual command under serious conditions of any kind; he did not have the slightest knowledge of military tactics, and he admitted frankly that it did not occur to him that an unsupported movement of cavalry across an open field, a mile and a quarter, exposed from two lines of the enemy, and in the face of a battery of twelve guns, was a feat absolutely impossible of performance. He said he understood that his orders were to take that battery and he took it. His reckless Irish courage saw no reason why he should not do so.

Lord Lucan, in command of the cavalry, and who, as I have said, was Cardigan’s brother-in-law, was utterly astounded when he saw how his orders had been interpreted, and Lord Raglan, the commander-in-chief, was paralyzed. The movement could be seen from start to finish by the entire army and the scarlet uniforms of the Light Brigade made it possible to watch man by man, as they plunged into the ranks of the Russians whose uniforms were gray.

Sifting the single grain of truth from the volume of argument and opinion, the charge of the Light Brigade was a blunder committed by an impetuous Irishman who misunderstood his orders and whose inexperience did not permit him to suspect a mistake.

General Bosquet, commander of the French contingent, who witnessed the charge from the beginning to the end, turned to Colonel Layard of the British army and remarked:

“_C’est magnifique; mais ce n’est pas la guerre._” (It is magnificent; but it is not war.)

Lord Tennyson and time have sanctified the blunder and, notwithstanding the folly of the act and the awful wastage of heroic blood, the charge of the Light Brigade stands unparalleled as an exhibition of soldierly discipline and daring. Not a man faltered in the ranks, not a man hesitated to enter “the jaws of death” and “the mouth of hell,” as ordered, although every experienced private in the ranks must have realized that “some one had blundered.” But it was a case of “Theirs not to reason why; theirs but to do and die,” and they rode down the long valley with the same coolness and alignment that they would have kept on the parade ground.

“When can their glory fade? Oh the wild charge they made! All the world wonder’d. Honour the charge made, Honour the Light Brigade Noble six hundred!”

Florence Nightingale is the immortal, as she was the most interesting figure of the Crimean war, and every school child knows her name. Millions of people throughout the world recognized her as “the Angel of the Crimea,” although they have never heard the name of the commander of the Light Brigade or the names of the generals-in-chief of either army. And I do not believe that one man or woman out of a thousand to-day can tell who commanded the British troops or the French allies; I doubt if one in ten thousand could give the name of the Russian general commander-in-chief; but the fame of Florence Nightingale is universal. She was the first woman to take up professional nursing; the first to follow an army into action, to nurse the sick and to bind up the wounds of the fallen. She was the only woman who ever received the Order of Merit of Great Britain, the most exclusive and highly prized decoration, with the exception of the Victoria Cross, that can be bestowed by the king of England. The membership of the order is limited to twenty-four and includes such men as Earl Roberts, Lord Kitchener, John Morley, James Bryce, Lord Kelvin, George Meredith, and Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

Florence Nightingale died Aug. 14, 1910, at the advanced age of ninety years three months and two days. She lived at Chelsea, one of the outlying parishes of London, and although her body showed the infirmities of age, her mind was as bright and her sympathies as active as they were when she won the title of “Angel of the Crimea” in 1855–56.