The whole was encircled by the inscription 'Blessed are
the Merciful'.
III
THE name of Florence Nightingale lives in the memory of the world
by virtue of the lurid and heroic adventure of the Crimea. Had
she died--as she nearly did--upon her return to England, her
reputation would hardly have been different; her legend would
have come down to us almost as we know it today--that gentle
vision of female virtue which first took shape before the adoring
eyes of the sick soldiers at Scutari. Yet, as a matter of fact,
she lived for more than half a century after the Crimean War; and
during the greater part of that long period, all the energy and
all the devotion of her extraordinary nature were working at
their highest pitch. What she accomplished in those years of
unknown labour could, indeed, hardly have been more glorious than
her Crimean triumphs, but it was certainly more important. The
true history was far stranger even than the myth. In Miss
Nightingale's own eyes the adventure of the Crimea was a mere
incident-- scarcely more than a useful stepping-stone in her
career. It was the fulcrum with which she hoped to move the
world; but it was only the fulcrum. For more than a generation
she was to sit in secret, working her lever: and her real "life"
began at the very moment when, in the popular imagination, it had
ended.
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