In the course of my wanderings I went through a succession of rooms on the second floor of an immense convent---a regular labyrinth turned into a hospital. The ground-floor and first-floor rooms were full of patients. In one of these lofty rooms I found four or five wounded men in high fever, in another ten or fifteen, and in a third as many as twenty, Each man lay on a bed, but they were all without help, and complained bitterly that it was hours since they had seen an orderly. They begged and implored me to get a little soup brought to them, instead of the icy cold water which was the only drink they had had. At the end of an interminable passage, in a room all by himself, a young fellow of the Bersaglieri was slowly dying of tetanus. He lay quite motionless on his palliasse, and though he still seemed to be full of life, and had his eyes wide open, he could neither hear nor understand, so he had simply been left to die.
Many French soldiers begged me to write to their parents, or, in some cases, to their Captain, whom they thought of as taking the place of their far-off families.
In the St. Clement Hospital, a noble Brescian lady, Countess Bronna, devoted herself, with splendid self-denial, to the care of patients with amputated limbs. The French soldiers spoke of her with enthusiasm. The most repulsive details never made her falter. "Sono madre," she said to me with solemn simplicity. "I am a mother!" Those words revealed all the splendour of her sacrifice. A mother indeed!
I was stopped in the street, five times in quick succession, by burghers of Brescia, who begged me to come to their houses to interpret for French officers---Majors, Captains or Lieutenants---whom they had asked to take in, and to whom they gave the most anxious and affectionate care. Often, however, they could not understand a single word of what was said to them by a guest who could speak no Italian; and the wounded officer, almost invariably nervous and anxious, grew angry to find that he was not understood, to the despair of the entire family, whose members were showing him every kindness and saw their efforts received with impatience and ill-humour due to fever and pain. In another case, an Italian doctor wanted to bleed an officer , and the latter imagining that it was intended to cut off his limb, resisted with all his strength, and did himself infinite harm in his excitement. Reassuring explanations given in their native language was the only way to calm these victims of Solferino when such lamentable misunderstandings arose. How gently and patiently the people of Brescia now sacrificed themselves, for those who had made such sacrifices for them and for their country, in order to deliver them from foreign domination! When a patient died, the grief of those about him was obviously sincere. It was infinitely touching to see the families who had adopted these men, religiously following the coffin of a French officer along the great cypress avenue, from St. John's Gate to his last home in the Campo Santo. The officer had been these people's guest for a few days only; yet they wept for him as one weeps for a friend, for a parent, or for a son---for him, whose name even they did not always know.
The soldiers who died in the hospitals were buried at night. Care was taken, in most cases at least, to note their names or numbers, which had been practically impossible at Castiglione.
All the towns in Lombardy made it a point of honour to claim their share of wounded men. At Bergamo and at Cremona the relief services were very well organized. The relief societies were helped by ladies' auxiliary committees, which gave admirable care to the large group of patients assigned to them. In one of the Cremona hospitals, an Italian doctor had said: "We keep the good things for our friends of the Allied Army, and give our enemies the bare necessities. If they die, so much the worse!"---and he added, to excuse these barbarous words, that he had heard from some Italian soldiers who had returned from Verona and Mantua, that the Austrians allowed the wounded of the Franco-Sardinian army to die uncared for. A noble lady of Cremona, Countess. . ., who had heard the doctor's words and had been devoting herself to the hospitals with the utmost zeal, made haste to show her disapproval by declaring that she gave exactly the same attention to the Austrians as to the Allies, and made no difference between friends and enemies. "For," she said, "Our Lord Jesus Christ made no such distinctions between men in well doing." Though it may be that the, men of the Allied Army, taken prisoners by the Austrians, were at the beginning rather roughly treated, the reports referred to were certainly inaccurate and exaggerated, and in no way justified such expressions as those used.
The French doctors not only did everything that was humanly possible without distinction of nationality; they grumbled and complained at their inability to do more. I must quote in this connection the words of Dr. Sonrier: "I cannot think without renewed sadness of the deepest kind," he said, "of a little ward of twenty-five beds at Cremona, which was assigned to the most seriously wounded of the Austrians. I can still see before me the gaunt, clay-like faces of these men, all colour gone from them as the result of exhaustion and pus-poisoning, imploring, with gestures and heart-rending cries, as a last mercy, that they might have a limb cut off which. we had tried to save---with the result that they died in desperate agony while we looked on helplessly. "
The head of the Commissariat at Brescia, and Dr. Gualla, Director General of the Brescia hospitals, with Dr. Commissetti, Chief Surgeon of the Sardinian Army, and Dr. Carlo Cotta, Medical Inspector for Lombardy, were all equally devoted, and their names deserve honourable mention with those of the illustrious Baron Larrey, Chief Surgeon and Inspector of the French Army; Dr. Isnard, Chief Army Surgeon, who showed remarkable capacities, both professional and administrative; and eminent services were rendered at Brescia by Mr. Thierry de Maugras, and a whole cohort of brave and tireless French surgeons, all of whose names I should like to mention. Surely, if those who make the slaughter can claim a place on the roll of honour, those who cure, and cure often at the risk of their lives, are entitled to their due of esteem and gratitude.
An Anglo-American surgeon, Dr. Norman Bettun, Professor of Anatomy at Toronto, in Upper Canada, came down on purpose from Strasburg to help these devoted men, and medical students hastened to the spot from Bologna, Pisa, and other Italian towns. Besides the inhabitants of Brescia, a few French, Swiss and Belgian travellers, with the authorization of the administration, also came of their own accord to offer their services, and went into the hospitals, helping the patients and giving them small comforts, such as oranges, sherbet, coffee, lemonade and tobacco. One of these travellers gave a Croat a Florin for a German note. The Croat had been imploring everyone he saw to perform this transaction for him for a month past, for otherwise he could make no use of the small sum which represented his entire fortune.
At the San Gaetano hospital, a Franciscan monk distinguished himself by his zealous work for the sick; and a young soldier from Piedmont, who was convalescent, and, coming from Nice, spoke both French and Italian, translated complaints or requests for the Lombard doctors. He was kept on as interpreter. At Piacenza, where the three hospitals in the town were directed by gentlemen and ladies acting as orderlies and nurses, one of the latter, a young lady whose family implored her to give up passing her days in hospitals owing to the pernicious and contagious fevers, nevertheless continued her self-imposed task, so zealously, so gently, and with such tender enthusiasm that all the soldiers worshipped her. "She brings joy into the hospital," they said.
Oh, how valuable it would have been in those Lombardy towns to have had a hundred experienced and qualified voluntary orderlies and nurses! Such a group would have formed a nucleus around which could have been rallied the scanty help and dispersed efforts which needed competent guidance. As it was, there was no time for those who knew their business to give the needful advice and guidance, and most of those who brought their own goodwill to the task lacked the necessary knowledge and experience, so that their efforts were inadequate and often ineffective.
In the face of so great an emergency, what could be done by a handful of enthusiasts, all isolated and dispersed? At the end of a week or ten days, the charitable zeal of the people of Brescia, sincere as it was, began to chill off. With a few most honourable exceptions, the people grew tired and weary. Moreover, inexperienced or injudicious townspeople brought into the churches and into the hospitals food which was often unsuitable for wounded men, and it became necessary to forbid them the doors. The consequence was that many, who would have been willing to spend an hour or two with the patients, would not be bothered when it became necessary to have an authorization and go and ask for it. Foreigners, who would have been inclined to help and make themselves useful, encountered unexpected obstacles of one kind and another which were calculated to discourage them. But selected and competent volunteers, sent by societies sanctioned and approved by the authorities, would easily have overcome all these difficulties, and would have done infinitely more good.
For the first week after the battle, wounded men, of whom the doctors said under their breath, shaking their heads as they passed their heels: "There is no more to be done," received hardly any care, and were, simply left to die. And this indeed was quite natural, seeing how few orderlies there were to handle the enormous numbers of wounded. It was, indeed, as logical and inevitable as it was sad and cruel, that these men should be left to die unaided, the precious time of the helpers available having to be kept for soldiers who might still be saved. Those who were thus condemned to death in advance were very many. The poor wretches on whom this inexorable verdict was pronounced were not deaf. They were quick to realize that they were abandoned, and they breathed their last, grieving and broken-hearted, unwept and unheeded. The death of some of them was made yet sadder and more bitter by the misplaced pleasantries of a few young Zouaves, only slightly wounded, whose beds were close by and who left them no peace. In other cases a man might be dying in a bed next to that of a companion in misfortune who had himself just died, and he was obliged, while he felt his own strength ebbing, to watch his dead comrade so obscenely handled that he could readily see the kind of thing which was in store for himself. Such a man was still lucky if his eyes did not light on certain people who, knowing him on the verge of death, took advantage of his weakness to search his haversack and rob it of anything in it that took their fancy.
Another wounded man, left to himself, had letters from his family waiting for him at the Post Office for a week past. In them he would have found a last comfort, if only they had been brought to him. He asked the ward men several times to fetch them for him, so that he could read them before his last hour came; but the men would not be bothered, and answered harshly that they had other things to do and had no time for him. How much better it would have been for thee, poor sufferer, hadst thou met a sudden death from a bullet on the field of carnage, amid the splendid horrors which men call glory! Thy name at least had then been surrounded by a little honour, if thou hadst fallen beside thy Colonel, fighting for thy flag! Better even hadst thou been buried with life still in thee, by the rustics who were entrusted with internments on the battlefield, when they picked thee up lifeless and unconscious on the Cypress hill, or in the plain of Medola. Then at least thy fearful agony had been of no longer duration---whereas now 'tis but a succession of agonies that thou must bear, and there awaits thee, not the field of honour, but inexpressible suffering, and after that a cold and gloomy death with all its horrors. And last of all, it will be little wonder if thy name should figure only with the curt mention "missing" for thine only funeral orison.
What now has become of that deep intoxicating spirit by which the brave combatants were electrified, which stirred them so strongly, so mysteriously, to the very depths of their being, when the campaign began, and on the day of Solferino when they were risking their lives, and when their valour craved for the blood of men like themselves which they went forth raging to shed? Where now is the love of glory, where the martial ardour, which were a thousand times heightened by the proud and melodious accent of the military bands and the warlike tones of the resounding trumpets---which were but sharpened by the whistling of bullets, the thunder of bombs, and the metallic roaring of rockets and shells bursting and exploding, in those hours when enthusiasm, when the attraction of danger and fierce, thoughtless excitement, put out of men's minds all thoughts of their latter end?
In those Lombardy hospitals it could be seen and realized how dearly bought and how abundantly paid for is that commodity which men pompously call Glory! The battle of Solferino is the only one of this Nineteenth Century which can be compared, for the number of casualties it involved, with the battles of Borodino, Leipzig and Waterloo. After the battle of June 24, 1859, the total of killed and wounded Austrians and Franco-Sardinians numbered three Field-Marshals, 9 Generals, 1566 officers of all ranks (630 Austrians and 936 in the Allied Army), and some 40,000 non-commissioned officers and men.(19) Two months later,' these figures (for the three armies together) had to be increased by 40,000, dead or in hospitals from sickness or fever, either as the result of the excessive fatigues undergone on June 24 and the days immediately preceding or following, or else owing to the pernicious effects of the summer climate and the tropical heat in the Lombardy plain---or, in some instances, owing to the accidents due to the soldiers' own carelessness. Leaving all questions of strategy and glory aside, this battle of Solferino was thus, in the view of any neutral and impartial person, really a European catastrophe.(20)
The removal of the wounded from Brescia to Milan, which took place at night owing to the torrid heat of the day, was a dramatic and impressive sight: trains packed with wounded soldiers entered stations which were crowded with silent, sorrowful people in the pale glimmer of pine torches; the whole compact mass, all quivering with emotion and kindliness, seemed almost to stop breathing, in order to listen to the stifled groans and moans which issued from those grim trainloads as they passed.
On the railway between Milan and Venice, the Austrians, in their gradual retreat during June to the Lake of Garda, had cut the line at several points between Milan, Brescia and Peschiera. But the railway had been quickly repaired and reopened to traffic(21) in order to facilitate the movement of stores, ammunitions and supplies for the Allied Army, and to permit of the evacuation of the Brescia hospitals.
At each stopping place, long narrow huts had been erected to receive the wounded who, on leaving the carriages, were placed on beds, or on simple mattresses lined up one beside the other. Under these shelters stood tables heavily loaded with bread, soup, wine and, above all, water, as well as lint and bandages which continued to be constantly needed. The darkness was lighted by a mass of torches which were held up by the youth of the locality where the train had stopped; and the Lombard townspeople, acting as improvised orderlies, made haste to bring their tribute of regard and gratitude to the conquerors of Solferino. Without noise, in religious silence, they dressed the men's wounds, carrying them out of the train with fatherly care and laying them carefully on the couches prepared for them. The local ladies gave them refreshing drinks and eatables of all kinds, distributing them in the railway carriages to those whose convalescence was well advanced and were to go forward or proceed as far as Milan.
At Milan, where the wounded arrived at the Brescia station at the rate of one thousand every night(22) for several nights, the martyrs of Solferino were received with the same enthusiasm and unwearying affection as had been shown to those of Magenta and Marignan.
The gracious and lovely young ladies of the aristocracy, made lovelier still by the exaltation of passionate enthusiasm, were no longer scattering rose-leaves from the beflagged balconies of sumptuous palaces to fall on glittering shoulder-straps, on silk and ribbons, and gold and enamel crosses; from their eyes now fell burning tears, born of painful emotion and of compassion, which quickly turned to Christian devotion, patient and self-sacrificing.
Every family which possessed a carriage came to fetch wounded men from the station. The number of vehicles thus sent by Milanese people on their own initiative was more than 500. Luxurious barouches and modest dogcarts alike were sent every evening to Porta Tosa, which was the entraining place for the Venice railway. Noble Italian ladies made it a point of honour to place the guests assigned to them in their carriages, themselves, after supplying them with mattresses, sheets and pillows. The men were carried from the train to these opulent vehicles by gentlemen of Lombardy, whose servants vied with their masters in zeal and helpfulness. As these privileged sufferers passed, the crowd cheered, and people raised their hats respectfully. Then they escorted the slowly moving carriages, bearing torches which lit up the sad countenances of the wounded men, who did their best to smile. The crowd went with them as far as the doors of the hospitable palaces and private houses, where the most assiduous care awaited the wounded.
Every family in Milan was bent on having French wounded under its roof, and no effort was spared to console the men for finding themselves far from their country, their families and their friends. The best doctors gave them their care, in private houses as well as in hospitals.(23) The ladies of the highest society of Milan showed courageous and lasting kindness to the wounded, watching with unfaltering constancy over the rank and file as well as the officers. Madame Uboldi de Capei, Madame Boselli, Madame Sala, née Comtesse Taverna, and many other noble ladies, forgot their usual habits of elegance and comfort, and spent months at a time beside those beds of pain, becoming the Guardian Angels of the sick. All this kindness was shown without any ostentation. The unremitting care, consolation and attentions given by these ladies entitle them to the gratitude of the families of those to whom they gave such service, and to the respectful admiration of all and sundry. Some of them were mothers, whose mourning garments told of recent losses which they had sustained. One of them said to Dr. Bertherand these sublime words, which are well worth quoting: "War," the Marchesa confided to him, "has bereft me of the eldest of my sons, who died eight months ago from a bullet wound received fighting in your army at Sebastopol. When I heard that French wounded were coming to Milan and that I could help to care for them, I felt that God was sending me his best consolation.
Countess Verri-Borromeo, President of the great Central Relief Committee,(24) took regular charge of the arrangements in the liner, and lint depots, and despite her advanced years she found the time to give up several hours every day to reading to wounded men. All the palaces in Milan were full of patients. The Borromeo Palace contained 300. The Mother Superior of the Ursuline Convent, Sister Marina Videmari, directed in an exemplary spirit of charity a large hospital which was a model of order and cleanliness, and was served entirely by nuns of her convent.
Gradually, we began to see, setting off along the Turin road, small detachments of convalescent French soldiers, their faces bronzed by the Italian sun. Some of them had their arms in slings, others supported themselves on crutches, others bore the traces of serious wounds. Their army uniforms were torn and thread-bare, but under them they wore fine linen, generously provided by wealthy Italians to replace their blood-stained shirts. "Your blood," said these Italians, "has been shed for the defence of our country. We would like to keep your shirts to remind us of it." Only a few weeks before, these had been strong healthy men---and now, one armless, another without a leg, a third with a blood stained bandage round his head, all bearing their suffering with resignation. But they will never be able again to follow the career of arms, or to help their families. Bitterly, sorrowfully, they can already picture themselves becoming objects of commiseration and pity, a burden to others, and a burden to themselves.
I cannot refrain from mentioning my encounter at Milan, when I returned from Solferino, with a venerable old gentleman, the Marquis Ch. de Bryas, former Deputy and former Mayor of Bordeaux. The Marquis, who possessed a very large fortune, had come to Italy on his own initiative for no other purpose than to help the wounded soldiers. It was my good fortune to facilitate the departure of this noble philanthropist for Brescia. During the first fortnight of July the crowding and confusion were such at the Porta Tosa station, whither I accompanied him, that it was a matter of tremendous difficulty to reach the railway carriages. The Marquis, despite his age, his position and his official functions (for I believe that he had been entrusted by the French administration with a purely charitable mission) was quite unable to get a place in the train he was to take. This small incident may give some idea of the tremendous crowds which obstructed the station and its approaches.
How many interesting matters there are which will remain forever unknown! A fine spirit was shown by another Frenchman, almost entirely deaf, who had also come three hundred leagues to look after his compatriots. When he reached Milan, he saw that the Austrian wounded were left practically to themselves, and he devoted himself more especially to them, trying to help them in every possible way---thus returning good for the evil he had suffered forty-five years before at the hands of an Austrian officer. In 1814, when France was invaded by the armies of the Holy Alliance, the officer had been billeted on the parents of this Frenchman, who was a boy at the time and afflicted with an illness which disgusted the foreign officer. The Austrian took the poor boy and threw him roughly out of the house before he could be prevented, and this brutal incident produced a deafness which lasted all his life.
In one of the Milan hospitals, a Sergeant of the Zouaves of the Guard, a proud and powerful-looking fellow who had had a leg amputated, and had undergone the painful operation without a word of complaint, fell, after a little time, into a profound melancholy, though his condition improved and his convalescence progressed satisfactorily. His constantly increasing melancholy was quite inexplicable. One day, a nun found him with tears in those eyes which perhaps had never wept before---and she so plied him with questions, that he ended by confessing to the good Sister that he was the only support of his aged and invalid mother to whom, when he was well, he sent five francs every month which he saved out of his pay. Now he found that he could not help her, and knew that she must be in very great need of money since he had not been able to send his usual little contribution. The nun was moved to pity, and gave him a five-franc piece, the equivalent of which was at once forwarded to France. But when Countess T---- . . ., who had interested herself in this brave and worthy man, was informed of the reason of his strange melancholy, and wished to give him a small sum for his mother and himself, he would not take it. He simply thanked the lady and said: "Please keep this money for others who need it more than I do. As for my mother, I hope to send money to her as usual next month, for I expect to be able to work soon."
One great lady of Milan, the bearer of a historic name, had placed one of her palaces at the disposal of the wounded, with 150 beds in it. Among the soldiers assigned to this magnificent palace was a Grenadier of the Seventieth who had lost a limb and was in danger of death. The lady, in her efforts to comfort the wounded man, spoke to him of his family, and he told her that he was the only son of a peasant couple in the Department of the Gers, and that his only grief was to leave them in extreme distress, since he was the only one who might have provided for them. He said also that it would have been an immense consolation for him to be able to kiss his mother before he died. The lady, without saying anything to the man, suddenly resolved to go on a journey. She left Milan by rail and went to the Gers, to his family, whose address she had obtained. There she left 2,000 francs to the wounded man's invalid father, and carried his poor peasant mother off with her to Milan. Six days after the lady's talk with the Grenadier, mother and son were in each other's arms, weeping and blessing their benefactress.
But why have I told of all these scenes of pain and distress, and perhaps aroused painful emotions in my readers? Why have I lingered with seeming complacency over lamentable pictures, tracing their details with what may appear desperate fidelity?
It is a natural question. Perhaps I might answer it by another:
Would it not be possible, in time of peace and quiet, to form relief societies for the purpose of having care given to the wounded in wartime by zealous, devoted and thoroughly qualified volunteers?
Since the hopes and aspirations of the Society of the Friends of Peace must be abandoned, like the dreams of the Abbé de St.-Pierre and the noble aspirations of such men as the Count de Sellon;
Since we may repeat the words of a great thinker who said: "Men have reached the point of killing without hating each other, and the highest glory, the finest of all the arts, is mutual extermination";
Since it has actually been stated that "war is divine," according to Count Joseph de Maistre;
Since new and terrible methods of destruction are invented daily, with perseverance worthy of a better object, and since the inventors of these instruments of destruction are applauded and encouraged in most of the great European States, which are engaged in an armament race;
And since finally the state of mind in Europe combines with many other symptoms to indicate the prospect of future wars, the avoidance of which, sooner or later, seems hardly possible;
In view of all this, why could not advantage be taken of a time of relative calm and quiet to investigate and try to solve a question of such immense and world-wide importance, both from the humane and Christian standpoint?
I am sure that once people begin to think about a matter of such general interest as this, it will lead to reflections and writings by people abler and more competent than I am. But meantime, is it not clear that in order to try and reach this noble goal, the first necessity is that the idea should be presented to the different branches of the great European family, and that it should secure the attention and the sympathy of all lofty souls, of all hearts which can be stirred by the sufferings of their fellow-men?
Societies of this kind, once formed and their permanent existence assured, would naturally remain inactive in peacetime. But they would be always organized and ready for the possibility of war. They would have not only to secure the goodwill of the authorities of the countries in which they had been formed, but also, in case of war, to solicit from the rulers of the belligerent states authorization and facilities enabling them to do effective work.
The societies, therefore, should include, in each country, as members of their governing board, men enjoying the most honourable reputation and the highest esteem. The committees would appeal to everybody who, for sincerely philanthropic motives, would undertake to devote himself for the time to this charitable work. The work itself would consist in bringing aid and relief (in agreement with the military commissaries, i.e., when necessary with their support and under their instructions) onto the battlefield whenever battle was joined, and subsequently to continue to care for the wounded in the hospitals until their convalescence was complete.
Spontaneous devotion of this kind is more easily to be found than one is inclined to think. There are plenty of people who, once they were sure they could be useful and convinced that they could do real good, with the encouragement and facilities given by the administrative authorities, would certainly be prepared to go, even at their own expense, and undertake for a limited time such an eminently philanthropic task. In this age, which is often called selfish and cold, what an attraction it would be for noble and compassionate hearts and for chivalrous spirits, to confront the same dangers as the warrior, of their own free will, in a spirit of peace, for a purpose of comfort, from a motive of self-sacrifice!
History can show examples to prove that there is nothing chimerical in counting upon such sacrifices. To give but two or three illustrations, is it not true that Saint Charles Borromeo, Archbishop of Milan, came from the other end of his diocese to the city of Milan at the time of the plague, in 1576, facing the contagion in order to bring to all relief and encouragement? This example was imitated in 1627 by Frederico Borromeo. And again, Bishop Belzunce de Castel-Moron distinguished himself by the heroic devotion which he showed when the plague ravaged Marseilles in 1720 and 1721.
Then there was John Howard, who went all over Europe visiting prisons, lazarets and hospitals, and bringing about sanitary reforms in them. Howard died in 1790, having caught a fever from a peasant when staying among the plague-stricken of the Crimea.
Sister Marthe, of Besançon, won renown for what she did between 1813 and 1815 for the wounded of the armies of the Coalition as well as for those of the French Army; and before her, another nun, Sister Barbe Schyner, distinguished herself at Freiburg, in 1790, by her work for the wounded of the army which was invading her country, as well as for her compatriots.
But I would single out for special mention two cases in our own time, connected with the war in the Near East, and yet more closely related to the subject under consideration. In the Crimea, while the good nuns looked after the sick and wounded of the French Army, the Russian and English armies hailed the arrival, the one from the north and the other from the east, of two noble legions of generous nurses led by two Blessed Ladies. Soon after the war broke out, the Grand Duchess Helen Pawlowna of Russia, née Princess Charlotte of Wurtemberg, widow of the Grand Duke Michael, left St. Petersburg with nearly 300 ladies, who went with her to act as nurses in the Crimean hospitals, where they earned the blessings of thousands of Russian soldiers.(25)
On the other side, Miss Florence Nightingale, who was familiar with the hospitals in England and with the principal charitable and philanthropic establishments on the Continent, and who had given up the pleasures of opulence in order to devote herself to doing good, received a pressing appeal from Lord Sidney Herbert, Secretary at War of the British Empire, asking her to go and look after the English soldiers in the Near East. Miss Nightingale, who has attained a great popularity, did not hesitate in undertaking this fine work, with which she knew that her Sovereign sympathised. She left for Constantinople and Scutari in November, 1854, with thirty-seven English ladies, who, as soon as they arrived, set to work caring for the many wounded of the battle of Inkermann. In 1855, Miss Stanley joined her with fifty others, and this enabled Miss Nightingale to go to Balaclava and inspect the hospitals there. All that she accomplished during those long months of sublime self-sacrifice, through her passionate devotion to suffering humanity, is well known.(26)
How many such sacrifices have been made, most of them obscure and forgotten! And how many of them were made in vain, because they were isolated efforts and lacked the support of organized groups of sympathisers!
If an international relief society had existed at the time of Solferino, and if there had been volunteer helpers at Castiglione on June 24, 25 and 26, or at Brescia at about the same time, as well as at Mantua or Verona, what endless good they could have done!
It cannot be thought for a moment that a host of active, zealous and valiant helpers would have been able to achieve nothing on that field of destruction during the dreadful night between the Friday and the Saturday, when groans and heart-rending prayers were rising from the throats of thousands of wounded men, who were enduring the most fearful agonies, and suffering from the unthinkable torments of thirst!
If the Prince of Isenburg, and thousands of other hapless warriors, had been raised sooner by compassionate hands from the wet and bloodstained earth on which they lay senseless, the Prince would not be suffering still today from wounds which became serious and dangerous during the hours when he lay there helpless. If his horse had not led to his being accidentally discovered among the dead, he would certainly have perished for lack of aid, as did many other wounded men, God's creatures like him, men whose deaths might mean just as much to their families as his death would have meant to his.
It must not be thought that the lovely girls and kind women of Castiglione, devoted as they were, saved from death many of the wounded and disfigured, but still curable, soldiers to whom they gave their help. All they could do was to bring a little relief to a few of them. What was needed there was not only weak and ignorant women, but, with them and beside them, kindly and experienced men, capable, firm, already organized, and in sufficient numbers to get to work at once in an orderly fashion. In that case many of the complications and fevers which so terribly aggravated wounds originally slight, but very soon mortal, might have been avoided.
If there had been enough assistance to collect the wounded in the plains of Medola and from the bottom of the ravines of San Martino, on the sharp slopes of Mount Fontana, or on the low hills above Solferino, how different things would have been! There would have been none of those long hours of waiting on June 24, hours of poignant anguish and bitter helplessness, during which those poor men of the Bersagliere, Uhlans and Zouaves struggled to rise, despite their fearful pain, and beckoned vainly for a letter to be brought over to them; and there would never have been the terrible possibility of what only too probably happened the next day---living men being buried among the dead!
If there had been available for the wounded improved means of transportation better than those now existing,(27) there would have been no need for the painful amputation which one Light Infantryman of the Guard had to undergo at Brescia. The need for that operation arose from deplorable lack of attention when he was being carried from the regimental flying ambulance to Castiglione. If this man did not die under the operation, as many soldiers did, he could thank his own strong and healthy constitution for it.
When we see young fellows disabled, with a leg or an arm gone, returning sadly to their homes, must not this give rise to remorse and regret that we have made no attempt to prevent such fatal consequences resulting from wounds which could have been cured, by effective aid sent and given in time? Think of the wounded men who were abandoned in the field hospitals at Castiglione, or in the hospitals. at Brescia, many of whom could not make themselves understood at all in their native languages! Would these men have breathed their last cursing and blaspheming, if there had been somebody with them to understand and listen and console them?(28)
It must not be thought that, in spite of all the zeal shown by the people of Brescia and in the towns of Lombardy, there was not a tremendous lot of work left to do. There was never a war in any century where such goodwill was shown and such a fine charitable spirit displayed. Yet the sacrifices made, generous and remarkable as they were, were altogether inadequate, and bore no proportion to the extent of the needs. All that was done, moreover, was done for the wounded of the Allied Army, and nothing for the poor Austrians. It represented the gratitude of a people rescued from oppression, and this explains the temporary delirium of enthusiasm and kindness. There were in Italy, it is true, plenty of brave women whose patience and perseverance knew no weariness---but, alas! there were few of them left at the end. The public grew tired; contagious fevers frightened away those who had at first been anxious to help; and helpers and orderlies, wearied or discouraged, did not justify expectations for long.
For work of this kind, paid help is not what is wanted. Only too often hospital orderlies working for hire grow harsh, or give up their work in disgust or become tired and lazy. On the other hand, immediate action is essential, for help which will save a wounded man today will not save him tomorrow, and if time is lost gangrene takes hold and carries off the patient.(29) There is need, therefore, for voluntary orderlies and volunteer nurses, zealous, trained and experienced, whose position would be recognized by the commanders or armies in the field, and their mission facilitated and supported. The personnel of military field hospitals is always inadequate, and would still be inadequate if the number of aids were two or three times as many, and this will always be the case. The only possible way is to turn to the public. It is inevitable, it will always be inevitable, for it is through the cooperation of the public that we can expect to attain the desired goal. The imploring appeal must therefore be made to men of all countries and of all classes, to the mighty ones of this world, and to the poorest workman: for all can, in one way or another, each in his own sphere and within his own limitations, do something to help the good work forward. Such an appeal is made to ladies as well as to men---to the mighty princess seated on the steps of the throne---to the poor devoted orphan serving maid---to the poor widow alone in the world and anxious to devote her last strength to the welfare of her neighbour. It is an appeal which is addressed equally to General and Corporal: to the philanthropist and to the writer who, in the quiet of his study, can give his talent to publications relating to a question which concerns all the human race and in a more particular sense, concerns every nation, every district, and every family, since no man can say with certainty that he is forever safe from the possibility of war. If an Austrian and a French General can sit next to each other at the hospitable table of the King of Prussia, and talk like good friends, what could there be to prevent them from investigating and discussing together a question so worthy to arouse their interest and attention?
On certain special occasion, as, for example, when princes of the military art belonging to different nationalities meet at Cologne or Châlons, would it not be desirable that they should take advantage of this sort of congress to formulate some international principle, sanctioned by a Convention inviolate in character, which, once agreed upon and ratified, might constitute the basis for societies for the relief of the wounded in the different European countries? It is the more important to reach an agreement and concert measures in advance, because when hostilities once begin, the belligerents are already ill-disposed to each other, and thenceforth regard all questions from the one limited standpoint of their own subjects.(30)
Humanity and civilization call imperiously for such an organization as is here suggested. It seems as if the matter is one of actual duty, and that in carrying it out the cooperation of every man of influence, and the good wishes at least of every decent person can be relied upon with assurance. Is there in the world a prince or a monarch who would decline to support the proposed societies, happy to be able to give full assurance to his soldiers that they will be at once properly cared for if they should be wounded? Is there any Government that would hesitate to give its patronage to a group endeavoring in this manner to preserve the lives of useful citizens, for assuredly the soldier who receives a bullet in the defense of his country deserves all that country's solicitude? Is there a single officer, a single general, considering his troops as "his boys," who would not be anxious to facilitate the work of volunteer helpers? Is there a military commissary, or a military doctor, who would not be grateful for the assistance of a detachment of intelligent people, wisely and properly commanded and tactful in their work?(31)
Last of all---in an age when we hear so much of progress and civilization, is it not a matter of urgency, since unhappily we cannot always avoid wars, to press forward in a human and truly civilized spirit the attempt to prevent, or at least to alleviate, the horrors of war?
The practical execution of this proposal, on a large scale, would certainly call for somewhat considerable funds, but there would never be difficulty about the necessary money. In wartime, all and sundry would hasten to give their contributions or bring their mite in response to the committee's appeals. There is no coldness or indifference among the public when the country's sons are fighting. After all, the blood that is being spilled in battle is the same that runs in the veins of the whole nation. It must not be thought, therefore, that there is any danger of the enterprise being checked by obstacles of this kind. It is not there that the difficulty lies. The whole problem lies in serious preparation for work of this kind, and in the actual formation of the proposed societies.(32)
If the new and frightful weapons of destruction which are now at the disposal of the nations, seem destined to abridge the duration of future wars, it appears likely, on the other hand, that future battles will only become more and more murderous. Moreover, in this age when surprise plays so important a part, is it not possible that wars may arise, from one quarter or another, in the most sudden and unexpected fashion? And do not these considerations alone constitute more than adequate reason for taking precautions against surprise ?