The opening of Introduction
To be called to tell in a few brief weeks the whole story of the Red Cross from its origin to the present time seems a labor scarcely less than to have lived it. It is a task that, however unworthily it may now be performed, is, in itself, not unworthy the genius of George Eliot or Macaulay. It is a story illustrating the rapid rise of the humane sentiment in the latter half of the nineteenth century. On its European side, it tells of the first timid and cautious putting forth of the sentiment of humanity in war, amid the rattling swords and guns of Solferino, its deaths and wounds and its subsequent awful silence.
It tells of its later fertilization on the red fields of Gravelotte and Sedan beneath my own personal observation.