Chapter C: Butler

Sound economy is a sound understanding, brought into action.

HANNAH MORE.

It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us rich.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

Beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a ship.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

The prospect of penury in age is so gloomy and terrifying that every
man who looks before him must resolve to avoid it.

DR. S. JOHNSON.

I was brought up New England, and I have the New England thrift. CLARA
BARTON.

My expenses have been so heavy and my receipts so “nothing” that I
cannot take on more “help.” CLARA BARTON.

There must be no more big hotel bills; the money must be saved for the
sufferers. CLARA BARTON.

Clara Barton has often been known by those near her to rob herself of
all her personal income—to carry on the work of an abiding and
all-absorbing charity. DR. J. GARDNER.

At first I used to be shocked over her penuriousness but when I
discovered the motive, that it was to save for others in need, no
words could describe my conscience-stricken feeling and my admiration
of that self-sacrificing woman.

GENERAL W. H. SEARS, “Secretary.”

THE GENERAL HAS MONEY—I AM HIS RECONCENTRADO

When traveling on the cars, Clara Barton would take her lunches with her. At night she would sit up in the day coach, and not take a sleeper—because of the expense. She made a trip from Washington to Boston. Her secretary was with her. He wanted a sleeper. How could he enjoy the luxury and Miss Barton not know it? Miss Barton had taken her shawl—in a bundle tied together with straps—and laid her head on it for a pillow. “Now is my opportunity,” thought the secretary, but she didn’t close her eyes. Four or five hours any night was enough sleep for Miss Barton, and the secretary knew it. The secretary was becoming ill at ease. He said, “Now, if you will excuse me, Miss Barton, I will go to the smoking car and have a smoke.” He was not there long;—he quietly slipped into the Pullman and went to sleep.

© _Jaro Studio_

WOODROW WILSON
The President, also President of the American Red Cross Society, March
4, 1913–March 4, 1921.

I have learned, from all I have heard of Clara Barton, to admire her
very much.
WOODROW WILSON (in 1918).
]

Early the next morning he passed unseen into the smoker of the day coach, then to where Miss Barton, bright and cheerful, was sitting. As nothing was said about “a good night’s rest,” he assumed that she thought he too had practiced self-denial. Nevertheless, he was ashamed over his “make-believe,” and also that a lady of seventy years the possessor of wealth had beaten him, her able-bodied young secretary, on a small salary, at the “game of economy.”

On arriving at Boston “Sister Harriette,” owner of one of the ancestral homes of Massachusetts, was at the station to meet her. The secretary unsuspecting—still “blooded” and a “real sport”—as they entered the station restaurant said “Now, ladies, you are going to have breakfast with me this morning.”

“Sister Harriette,” having served with the Red Cross in the Spanish-American War and knowing the secretary, fully understood when Miss Barton slyly remarked “oh, yes, the General has money, you know; _he_ travels in a Pullman and I am his reconcentrado.”

LXIII

The greatest generals were proud to know her; eminent statesmen felt
honored by her friendship.

Bridgeport (Conn.) _Post_.

Abraham Lincoln—the simplest, serenest, sublimest character of the
age. U. S. SENATOR JOHN M. THURSTON.

The beauty of Lincoln’s immortal character has thrown in the shade the
splendor of his intellect. BISHOP J. P. NEWMAN.

Presidents Arthur, Cleveland, Harrison and McKinley, with their
cabinets, have been actively interested in, and committed to its (Red
Cross) work. WALTER P. PHILLIPS, Chairman, Red Cross Committee (in
1903).

Character is higher than intellect. EMERSON.

Character is the dearest earthly possession. T. SHARP.

If our character is lovely we are loved. PRESTON.

Character lives in a man; reputation lives outside of him.

J. G. HOLLAND.

Character, like everything else, is affected by all the forces that
work upon it, and produce it. BISHOP W. F. MCDOWELL.

Character is made up of small duties faithfully performed.

_Anon._

The true character of a man displays itself in great events.

NAPOLEON.

Brains and character rule the world. The most distinguished Frenchman
of the last century said: “Men succeed less by their talents than by
their character.” WENDELL PHILLIPS.

Great trials test great characteristics. CLARA BARTON.

Great trials seem to be a necessary preparation for great duties.

EDWARD THOMPSON.

Times of general calamity and confusion have ever been productive of
greatest minds. COLTON-LACON.

It is only by the active development of events that character and
ability can be tested. A. LINCOLN.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN’S SON

Robert T. Lincoln was Secretary of War.

When Clara Barton handed her card to the porter, he asked, “What do you want to see him about?”

“Just because he is Abraham Lincoln’s son. I knew his father and merely want to pay my respects to him.”

Clara Barton was admitted. The War Secretary rose as she entered the office, and Miss Barton opened the conversation by saying: “I knew President Lincoln well. He was good and kind to me in whatever I tried to do for the soldiers. He seemed to appreciate the little things I had succeeded in doing; and when there came a great undertaking (referring to making a record of the missing soldiers), so great as to appal with its seeming impossibility, he encouraged me. Survivors of the missing entreated me to undertake the work and, when other officials said it could not be done, your father, with his big heart, said ‘I will help you.’ He smoothed the way and made it possible, assisting me until the work was done. When I came back to Washington, he was not here to receive my grateful thanks. He had gone beyond all that. It was a sad little burden to carry around with me unshared, but I have carried it. At home and beyond the sea, wherever I have been, it has gone with me, and I have come today to ask you, as his representative, to accept my burden of thanks for him.”

The tears were filling Miss Barton’s eyes before she had finished. She was abashed at her failure to control her emotions but, glancing up at the Secretary, she saw that he too was weeping. Looking at each other a moment in silence, the Secretary reached out his hand to Miss Barton and said “I do accept your tribute of thanks—for my father.”

LXIV

Clara Barton—intelligent and reclaiming, her leading attributes.

Atlanta (Ga.) _Constitution_.

Pity it is to slay the meanest thing. HOOD.

Man is an aristocrat among animals. HEINE.

The merciful man doeth good to his own soul. PROVERBS.

How deeply seated in the human heart is the injunction not to kill
animals. TOLSTOI.

Animals in their generation are wiser than the sons of men.

JOSEPH ADDISON.

Could we understand the language of animals, how instructive a
dialogue of dogs would be. EUDOXES.

Animals, in our degenerate age, are every day perishing under the
hands of barbarity, without notice, without mercy. A. DEAN.

Surely the sensibility of brutes entitles them to a milder treatment
than they usually meet with from hard and unthinking wretches. A.
DEAN.

THE BUTCHER DIDN’T GET IT

“Miss Barton, the butcher has been here today. He wants to buy the little Jersey calf; offered me $5.00 for it,” said the manager of the Red Cross home, “and I told him he could have it.” “But he can’t,—why didn’t you ask me about it?” “Well, I knew we couldn’t keep it; we need the milk—” “But the calf needs the milk too, and I tell you that the calf is not going to be killed.” “But I have sold it.” “That doesn’t make any difference; I haven’t—and it’s my calf.”

“You just ask your neighbors, and they’ll tell you that nobody thinks of raising a calf—in town here.” “But I’m not asking my neighbors.”

“Now, Miss Barton, don’t you know we have no pasturage and we have to buy all our feed, and feed is high now, too.”

“Never mind, we’ll get the feed.”

“But, Miss Barton, the calf is a nuisance around the house, and it will cost more——”

“Now, you’ve said enough; the calf is _not_ a nuisance and _I_ am paying the expenses. If you don’t want to take care of the calf, I’ll take care of it myself. Now go along and don’t talk to me any more about that calf. The butcher will _not_ get it.”

And the butcher didn’t get it.

LXV

Clara Barton, an example of charity to a younger generation.

Boston (Mass.) _Pilot_.

Woman! there is a place for thee; go forth and fill it, that in thee
mankind may be doubly blessed. CLARA BARTON.

Let all things be done in charity. I. CORINTHIANS.

Go and sin no more. ST. JOHN.

The Lord alone can direct me. CLARA BARTON.

Go straight to God’s work, in simplicity and singleness of heart.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

I never in my life performed a day’s work at the field that was not
grounded in that little sentence “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one
of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.”

CLARA BARTON.

With malice towards none; with charity for all. A. LINCOLN.

Alas, for the rarity of Christian charity under the sun. HOOD.

O charity, thou friend to him who knows no other friend besides.

CANON BOWLES.

Charity and personal force are the only investment worth anything.
WALT WHITMAN.

Did universal charity prevail, earth would be a heaven and hell a
fable. COLTON.

Clara Barton—the candles of her charity lighted the gloom of death.
_Grand Rapids Herald._

Clara Barton—her beautiful deeds of charity.

_Roswell Record._

How white are the fair robes of charity, as she walketh amid the lowly
habitations of the poor. HOSEA BALLOU.

THE KIND OF GIRLS THAT NEEDED HELP

In Miss Barton’s relief work in the overflow of the Ohio River at one of the stops, at Shawneetown, among the people who came on board the boat for relief were two girls. They had evidently told Clara Barton their needs in a private conversation and were leaving, when somebody living in the town came to Miss Barton and quietly told her that she had better not have anything to do with these girls; they were not the kind she should be helping.

Without ostentation, or without making any display about it, she called the girls back, had a long private talk with them and furnished them with all of the supplies they needed, in quiet defiance of the advice which had been volunteered about the character of the girls. Of course her advice would be of a kind that they would never forget through their whole lifetime and would be their guide in the future. And as they left she calmly remarked that they were the kind of girls that probably needed her help more than any others in the place.

LXVI

Clara Barton—loved and honored as perhaps no other woman of her day.
Tacoma (Wash.) _Ledger_.

Switzerland is an _armed_ neutrality in which one has faith.

CLARA BARTON.

The Red Cross was chosen out of compliment to the Swiss Republic; the
Swiss colors being a white cross on a red ground. The badge chosen
were those colors reversed. CLARA BARTON.

Romance is the poetry of literature. MADAME NECKER.

Romance is always young. WHITTIER.

Romance—the parent of golden dreams. BYRON.

The Red Cross seems to have become the milder romance of war.

CLARA BARTON.

Love took up the glass of time. TENNYSON.

Love will find out the way. ALFRED NOYES.

Love took up the harp of life. LOCKSLEY HALL.

Love conquers all things. VIRGIL.

All mankind loves a lover. EMERSON.

True love is better than glory. THACKERAY.

Love is the beginning of everything. F. W. BOREHAM.

None but the brave and beautiful can love. BAILEY.

Love rules the camp, the court, the grove.

_Lay of the Last Minstrel._

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable.

SHAKESPEARE.

Hail wedded love,
Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets. MILTON.

Love’s history, as Life’s, is ended not by marriage.

BAYARD TAYLOR.

Love is greater than war, truer than steel, stronger than fear or
danger of death. CLARA BARTON.

A ROMANCE OF TWO CONTINENTS

The battle had been fought, and on the bloody field lay the wounded. Among these was a Swiss boy who had left his native country, coming to America to fight in the cause of the Union. In her ministerings on the field, Clara Barton had heard of this lad, by name Jules Golay, but had not seen him. He was undergoing a surgical operation. As the knife was doing its work, in great pain he cried out, “Mon Dieu!” Clara Barton heard the cry and went to him. He could not speak in English, but in French Clara Barton while dressing his wound gave him words of sympathy. Daily, as tender as a mother, she cared for him until he recovered.

Only the brave know how to be grateful. The soldier’s gratitude knew no bounds. He did not forget, and awaited his opportunity. Years later Miss Barton was taken ill, and went to Switzerland. Jules begged her to come to his home. There, in her shattered physical condition, she was cared for in greater than a royal palace—a cottage where love reigns. Clara Barton returned to America. The elder Golay died; his family then scattered. The eldest son, Mons A. Golay, came to New York. There his wife, of a

The hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rocks the world.
WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.

THE CLARA BARTON BABY CRADLE

I remember my first baby experience, when I was two and one-half years
of age. CLARA BARTON.
]

SENTIMENT IN HISTORY

THE PET JERSEY CALF

The butcher will not get it.
CLARA BARTON.

See page 208.
]

COLONY OF CONSTANTINOPLE DOGS

“Dogs in Constantinople are held sacred.”

See page 345.
]

year, died also. He, ill and penniless, came to Dansville to see Miss Barton, then convalescing.

Mons A. Golay, recovering his health, went to Chicago and became established there in business with his brother Jules. Jules’ old wounds broke out afresh and in consequence he died, leaving a broken hearted wife and several children. “One woe doth tread upon another’s heel so fast they follow.” The widow soon followed him to the Beyond. The orphan children became the care of Mons. A. Golay, who struggled nobly to provide for them. In his distress over the problem of life, he remembered.

She was a form of life and light
That seen becomes a part of sight
And goes wher’er I turn my eye
The moving star of memory.

But the romance does not end here; the romance follows:

A Miss Kupfer while traveling had been stricken with a fever, and was seriously ill at a hotel in Switzerland. There the ever humane Clara Barton took care of her, nursing her back to life. When Miss Kupfer, in her far-away home, heard of Miss Barton’s serious illness she crossed the ocean to be at the bedside of her benefactor, then living at Dansville.

Mons A. Golay revisits Dansville and there, as on former visit, meets the beautiful Miss Kupfer, herself still exemplifying that “the religion of humanity is love.”

“Love is life’s end, an end but never ending.”

The two of foreign birth thus strangely brought together were each of gentle manners, of rare culture,—of like tastes and alike spiritually. As love is the spiritual friendship of two souls, unwittingly through Miss Barton there became inter-clasped two human loves, the crowning event of all human bliss.

It was one of the happiest of occasions in her home at Dansville when Miss Barton gave away the bride,—Miss Kupfer becoming Mrs. Mons A. Golay, and the guardian spirit of the little children needing a mother’s care. The romance of two continents, which reads like a fiction resulted in a happy family, in an ideal American home.

LXVII

Clara Barton’s monument is the gratitude of humanity.

Boston (Mass.) _Record_.

Deeds, not stones, are the true monuments of the great.

MOTLEY.

The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou’rt named; nature,
appalled, shakes off her wonted firmness. ROBERT BLAIR.

An immortal hope was in her gaze and in her soul—in her life she did
everything thoroughly. What more natural than that she should want to
know her last resting place would be in order when the Master called?
REV. PERCY H. EPLER.

The monument means a world of memories, a world of deeds, a world of
tears and a world of glories. JAMES A. GARFIELD.

By desire and nomination of President Garfield, I was made President
of the American Red Cross. CLARA BARTON.

Life’s race well run,
Life’s work well done,
Life’s crown well won
Now comes rest.
PRESIDENT GARFIELD’S _Epitaph_.

THE LITTLE MONUMENT—FOR ALL ETERNITY

She suddenly stopped talking; she faltered; she choked; then trembling, the veteran of many struggles, propped up in bed and suspecting the end near, on Oct. 3, 1911, there occurred the following conversation:

“Now Mr. Young, I want to ask something of you. Would you do me a favor?”

“Why certainly, Miss Barton, what is it?”

“I know it is uncanny. You may not want to do it. I must not ask it, and yet I _must_.”

“My dear Miss Barton, tell me what it is.”

“You know, I have no one to leave my little property to,—well, I have from time to time been spending some money out in the cemetery.” Then she hesitated for fully two minutes, sobbing but trying to control her emotions, when she continued—“where I’ll remain for all eternity. Maybe you would like to see the little monument I have had constructed; to keep it in memory, and to associate me with the place I am to be always. I would so much like to have you see it, and it might be some satisfaction to you. Will you do me this favor? You can get off the electric car on your way to Worcester; it won’t take you long, and I would feel better to have you do so.”

“My dear,” I said, “it is so kind of you to have mentioned this. I appreciate it more than I can tell you. I won’t get off the car, but if Doctor Hubbell will go with me, I’ll get an auto to drive out there. I also want to see where you were born. How far is that?”

“Only two or three miles. If you will do this you will make me very happy.”

I am taught by the Oak to be rugged and strong
In defense of the right, in defiance of wrong.
HELEN O. HOYT.

HISTORIC AND SENTIMENTAL

BABA, CLARA BARTON’S PET HORSE

Baba was presented to Clara Barton at Santiago, Cuba, by a war
correspondent of the New York _World_, 1899.

We both loved him. I am glad my last act was for his welfare.

CLARA BARTON.

See page 219.
]

THE BABA TREE—WILLIAM H. LEWIS

(Tree registered in Hall of Fame for Trees, Washington, D. C.)

The Baba Tree (Quercus Alba), grown on Cedar Green Farm, Battlefield
of Chancellorsville, Virginia. Planted April, 1912, on Woodland
Farm, two and one half miles from Bloody Angle, of said battlefield.
White oak trees nearby, eleven feet in circumference, whose age
(estimated) is between two hundred and three hundred years.—WILLIAM
H. LEWIS, Chancellor Virginia.
]

“Do you know, I can get no help here; I thought when I came here I could get all the help I wanted, but it seems to be something that neither love nor money will buy. Haven’t been able to get a nurse to wait on me. But my tenants on the lower floor are very kind, and bring me my meals. I feel very much alone. I am the lonesomest lone woman in the world. You do not know how much I appreciate your coming such a long distance to see me; it has done me so much good—”

Moved by a sudden impulse I took her right hand in mine, kissed it and said “God bless you!” Faster than the mind thinks, she raised up in bed with a “No, no”—caught my left hand in both of her hands so excitedly that I could not divine her movements, other than to suspect that I had performed a breech of decorum. Holding tight my hand in both of hers she kissed it, and with tears in her eyes said: “I’ll never see you again, this is the last—”

“Oh! yes you will,” I said.

“No, not again. Good-bye!”

“No, Miss Barton, I’ll not say good-bye to you; you cannot die. You will live always. I will only say—God bless you!”

And then, backing out of the room, facing her all the while and watching her changing expressions as the shadows played over her features,—waved a kiss, and said “God bless you!”

LXVIII

I think I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree. JOYCE FILMER.

The trees are monuments with a meaning, for they live gloriously just
as did those for whom they are planted. CHARLES LATHROP PACK,
_President of the American Forestry Association_.

The soil is right and the husbandman will not fail. CLARA BARTON,
_President The National First Aid_.

There never was any heart truly great and generous that was not also
tender and compassionate. SOUTH.

Life is war; eternal war with woes.

YOUNG’S _Night Thoughts_.

Before any great national event I have always had the same dream.

I had it the other night; it is a ship sailing rapidly.

A. LINCOLN.

Whichever way it ends, I have the impression that I shall not last
long after it is over. A. LINCOLN.

O, I have passed a miserable night,
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams.
KING RICHARD III.

Always there have been believers in dreams. From Genesis to Revelation
we read of dreams and visions and their influence for good or evil
upon the acts and lives of numerous characters in Biblical history. In
Genesis, Jacob dreams of a ladder to Heaven; Joseph’s rise to eminence
is based on dreams and his solution of them. The Revelation of St.
John the Divine in its entirety is given to us as a vision seen while
on the Isle of Patmos.

_Queen of the Romanies._

STORY OF BABA—DREAM OF A WHITE HORSE—LIFE’S WOES

While in Santiago Clara Barton was presented with a beautiful white Arabian horse, named Baba. Baba was a pacer and an ideal saddle animal. Miss Barton was fond of Baba, and Baba just as fond of Miss Barton. Having been bred and reared on the Island of Jamaica, Baba was very fond of bananas and, when Miss Barton brought from the store any of this fruit, her first thought on returning home was to share it with Baba. On one occasion, when her little nephew was out riding Baba, Baba spied a banana on the side of the road; he refused to go further, and insisted on turning around and going back. Not knowing why Baba acted in this way, the little boy kicked him, struck him with his stick, but Baba won out, went back and got the banana. After eating it, he went on as if nothing had happened. When Miss Barton found it out she scolded the little boy for mistreating the horse. And when it was explained to the boy he cried piteously because he had been so cruel, for he too was fond of Baba.

Baba was a great traveler. He visited New York, Massachusetts, and Virginia, always living on the best in the land. Baba made friends wherever he went for he was not only kind and beautiful but he was fond of children. Baba was never happier than when the children were on his back, having a good time. Baba passed his last days in a pasture in Virginia and as the favored guest of a good friend of Miss Barton.

In the absence of Baba from Glen Echo, Miss Barton would frequently dream of a white horse. To dream of a white horse, she interpreted, was a bad omen. When she heard of Baba’s death Miss Barton became very despondent, and said to the members of her household “this means that I am not going to stay here a great while.”

Clara Barton, who was at that time preparing for herself a monument, wished also a monument for Baba. She philosophizes and thinks it should be a tree—the longest-lived of all living things. Of a tree’s longevity there is of record in England an oak 800 years, an elm 2,600 years, one yew 3,000 years, and another yew, with a diameter of 27 feet, 3,200 years; in Africa, baobabs 4,000 years; near the Castle of Chapultepec, Mexico, a cypress 26 feet in diameter, and said to be 6,000 years old.

Of the first class at Bowdoin was George Thorndike. He planted the Bowdoin Oak, and is the only one of that class remembered by the students of that American college. The boy died in 1802, at the age of twenty-one years, but the tree is still the pride of that great institution of learning, and sacred to the memory of him who planted it.

In this instance, Miss Barton thought “Woodman, spare that tree” might be a sentiment to be respected for hundreds of years. She, therefore, selected for a monument to Baba a tree,

Jove’s own tree,
That holds the woods in awful sovereignty.

Characteristic of the heart that quickened to sympathy for life’s woes the peoples of the world is the sentimental philosophizing of Clara Barton on the death of Baba in the following remarkable letter:

Glen Echo, Maryland,
November 19, 1911.

My Dear Mr. Lewis:

Your letter telling me of the last of our dear Baba came yesterday;
and I hasten to reply, for I know you need sympathy as well as myself.
We both loved him, and are alike grieved; and yet there is much to be
thankful for. He went quickly and was not left to suffer, nor to give
pain or trouble to others.

His future care and keeping are no longer questions. He no more needs
me. He lived without harm and died well. I do not think he ever
knowingly nor intentionally did a wrong thing in his life. Could a
human being blest with intelligence and language do better? He had a
language of his own which we both understood, and I always felt that
he largely understood ours. Kindly as a brother and obedient as a
child,—I am glad my last act was for his welfare. He lived with you,
and loved you, to the last. He has gone from our hands and our care,
leaving with us a loving memory tinctured with respect for the virtues
he possessed, and knew not of.

Let me thank you, dear Mr. Lewis, for the tender care given his
remains, and for the grave you have given him on your own farm. Some
time when the spring days come, if you see a thrifty oak sapling and
have time, will you kindly transplant it beside the grave? His body
will nourish it, and let it be his monument. The children will love
and protect it as Baba’s tree. His saddle and bridle you ask; you keep
them and his little belongings as no one else could hold them so
tenderly as you.

I will take back the check for his winter feed as useless now; but
wish to enclose in this ten dollars for the last tender care and
burial, with the assurance that you will always hold a high place in
my esteem and affection for the kind and manly part you have taken in
this little episode of life’s woes.

Let me repeat from your letter this sentiment, the hope that we may be
friends while life shall last.

Yours gratefully,
CLARA BARTON.

LXIX

Resolved, in behalf of the State of Texas especially does the
legislature thank Clara Barton, President of the Red Cross Society.

Approved February 1, 1901.

A tribute of honor, of which sovereigns might be proud, clothed in
language the eloquence of which our English tongue does not surpass.
CLARA BARTON.

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for
his friends. ST. JOHN.

Clara Barton is the embodiment of the saving principle of laying down
one’s life for one’s friends. Her achievements are greater than the
conquest of nations or the inventions of genius, and who is justly
crowned in the even-tide of her life with the love and admiration of
all humanity.

Central Relief Committee of Galveston, Texas.

The name of Clara Barton has ever been a cherished one in our
Southland, and the Red Cross the symbol of the most noble charity.
MRS. ROSENE RYAN, Chairman, the Governor’s Relief Committee for
Clothing, March 5, 1901.

It proves to us more strongly than ever, after the experience we have
had since the arrival of Miss Barton, that “woman rules the world, as
she has always done.” MRS. JENS MOLLER, of the Central Relief
Committee, November 13, 1900.

No name in Texas is today dearer to its people than that of Clara
Barton. Red Cross Committee, 1903.

How much of the heroic there is in our people when it is needed.

CLARA BARTON.

The Red Cross has come to be the first thought of any community
suddenly overtaken by disaster. CLARA BARTON.

The Red Cross creates an organized neutral volunteer force, from the
people, supplied by the people. CLARA BARTON.

The Red Cross is the outward and practical expression of that
universal sympathy that goes out from millions of homes and firesides;
from the heart of the nation to humanity in distress.

CLARA BARTON.

Not one dollar, for twenty years or more, on twenty fields of national
disaster, has there been drawn from the Treasury of the United
States,—the beneficence of the people through their awakened
characters were equal to all needs. CLARA BARTON.

High or low, rich or poor, we are the people of this God-given nation;
we are also the arbiters of its fate.

“For sure as sin and suffering’s born
We walk to fate abreast.”
CLARA BARTON.

I am here at Galveston, my fingers are in the wound, and I assure you
that the side was pierced and the nails did go through.

CLARA BARTON.

Despite all its woes and terrors, the memory of Galveston comes ever
back to me with a gleam of pleasure for the hope in humanity, which it
has kindled, and the noble characteristics of our country which it
disclosed. CLARA BARTON.

In every instance the gratitude of the people has been the glad
heritage of the Red Cross and its willing servers.

CLARA BARTON.

PEOPLE, LIKE JACK RABBITS—NO “SHOW-WOMAN”

In 1900 a devastating flood visited Galveston. Thousands of human lives were destroyed. For two miles back from the shore not a house remained standing. Only here and there on the barren sands were seen the wreckage of the storm-swept city. Suffering and death held sway in that city of once happy homes. Clara Barton, with a corps of able assistants, was there having come from Washington at the urgent solicitation of the authorities of the City of Galveston.

From overwork and nervous strain she had been taken ill. She was in bed at the Tremont Hotel. For three weeks her life hung in the balance. The writer, with a party of California tourists, happened to be in the city on his way east. He incidentally “dropped in” the hotel, only to learn of the serious condition of his friend. Fanny Ward was standing guard at the door of the sick room. Undaunted, the writer ventured to suggest: “I’d like to see Miss Barton.” “Well, sir, you can’t see Miss Barton.” “Why not?” “She is ill, and nobody is permitted to see her.” “But she is a friend of mine.” “That makes no difference. I have orders from her physician not to let _anybody_ go to her room. No one but the nurse has been permitted to enter this room for three weeks.” “Well, if that’s so, I don’t expect to see her, but kindly take in my card.” “No, I’ll not do that either.” “Well, it seems strange to me that I cannot at least send a card of sympathy to my friend.” “Oh, well, if you insist, I’ll take in your card, but it won’t do you any good.” “All right, I insist.”

The messenger returned, and reported that Miss Barton wanted to see me and would be ready in about fifteen minutes, but she could see no one else in the party. As I entered the room, she was half sitting and half reclining in her bed, having two large pillows at her back. She had her hair neatly arranged, a pink bow adjusted tastefully at the neck, a little white shawl hanging loosely over her shoulders and otherwise attired as for a state occasion, as similarly was her custom when receiving any friend.

Miss Barton: “Mr. —— I am glad to see you. The Doctor said two weeks ago that I had but one chance to live. I told him that I would take that chance. I did; and I know I am going to get well.”

Mr. ——: “Miss Barton, do you know that on the barren sands between here and the shore they already have two or three ‘shacks’ going up?”

Miss Barton: “That does not surprise me. People are like jack-rabbits. Scared out of their nice warm nests, they soon forget and return from where they started. That whole sand waste will soon be built on again, and the people will forget that there has been a flood.”

M. ——: “Miss Barton, there is a very wealthy young lady in our party who wants to see you.”

Miss Barton: “But I cannot see her.”

Mr. ——: “I know, Miss Barton, but she told me to tell you that, if your assistant would open the door wide enough so that she could just see your face, she would give a hundred dollars to charity, and you could use it among the sufferers.”

Miss Barton: “I have worked very hard here, and am a very sick woman, but I have not yet become a ‘show-woman,’ and I don’t think I will. I do not understand such curiosity, nor why your young lady friend would care to see me,” and she unconcernedly passed on to another subject apparently more agreeable to her modest nature.

LXX

Clara Barton was loved by the people of the whole world.

_The Two Martyrs_—By HON. FRANCIS ATWATER.

Love is the life of the soul. WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING.

The law of Heaven is love. HOSEA BALLOU.

The soul of woman lives in love. MRS. SIGOURNEY.

Love—’tis woman’s whole existence. BYRON.

The religion of humanity is love. MAZZINI.

Love is the Amen of the universe. NOVALIS.

Love is indestructible;
The holy flame forever burneth
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.
SOUTHEY—_Curse of Kehama_.

There is in the heart of woman such a deep well of love that no age
can freeze it. BULWER-LYTTON.

Love is the beginning, the middle, and the end of everything.

LA CORDAIRE.

Love lives on, and hath a power to bless when they who loved are
hidden in their grave. LOWELL.

Julia—His little speaking shows his love but small.

Lucetta—Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.
_The Two Gentlemen of Verona._

CLARA BARTON’S HEART SECRET—$10,000 IN “GOLD DUST”

Clara Barton was very non-communicative as to her personal affairs, confiding in no one her heart’s secrets. But a woman’s curiosity got the best of the closest friend Clara ever had, and on a certain occasion “Sister Harriette” ventured to draw out of her heart what she had long wanted to know:

“Clara, have you never had a sweetheart?”

“Oh yes!” she replied, “just the same as all other girls.”

“But tell me about yours,” Harriette ventured further.

“I will, sometime,” Clara said.

“Oh, no, tell me now,” Harriette continued.

“No, not now—some other time I’ll tell you all about it,” persisted Clara. Then she said: “Oh, well, I’ll tell you I had a dear friend in my younger days, but he went to California in the rush to the gold fields with my brother David, and never came back.”

“Did you really love him?” asked Harriette again, trying to draw her out.

“Now, don’t ask me anything more, for I am not going to tell you,” replied Clara.

“But you said you would and I am really curious,” continued Harriette.

Clara hesitated, then said: “I don’t feel like it now, but sometime I’ll tell you the story.”

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought;
And with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat (like patience on a monument)
Smiling at grief.

On a certain other occasion it became necessary for her attorneys to know in detail of her finances, and their origin, so they plied her with questions:—

THE CLARA BARTON MONUMENT

Built at her expense in the cemetery at North Oxford, Massachusetts.
In her will Clara Barton left sixteen hundred dollars for the
permanent maintenance of the Barton cemetery lot. WILLIAM E. BARTON.

No more fitting tribute could be paid by the American people than the
raising of a monument that will perpetuate the life work of Clara
Barton.
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL NELSON A. MILES.

Monuments and endowments are the physical testimonials, but they do
not express the entire obligation. The life of Clara Barton should
be familiarized to every child. Woonsocket (R. I.) _Call._

Congress should pass a Special Act setting aside a plot and defraying
the expenses of a suitable monument over the last resting place of
the noble woman who has served the nation in peace and in war.
Manchester (N. H.) _Mirror_.

As we passed one particular monument in the cemetery at Buffalo Clara
Barton said: “There is a design which I wish to have copied, and
sometime to have a monument put up in my family yard in Oxford for
my Father and Mother, my brothers and sister and to be ready for me
when I join them.” The design was copied and the monument placed as
Miss Barton desired. FRANCIS ATWATER.
]

Attorney—Now, Miss Barton, tell us where you got all your wealth.

Miss Barton—I haven’t much wealth—what do you mean?—Everything?

Attorney—You inherited some money did you not? Tell us about that.

Miss Barton—I inherited, no—Oh! yes, I got some money once, but why should I tell you?

Attorney—It may be brought up in “the investigation” by the attorney on the other side and we don’t want any surprise sprung on us.

Miss Barton—Well, that seems reasonable—I’ll tell you. My brother and _another_ went to the California gold fields; my brother returned,—the other _never did_ return. But he left me all his savings, $10,000 in gold.

Attorney—What did you do with the $10,000?

Miss Barton—I always regarded this too sacred to use, so I placed it in a New York bank. This was in 1851. I kept it there on interest until President Lincoln commissioned me to look up the names of the missing soldiers. I did not consider it _too sacred_ for this purpose, and so in 1865 I drew it out of the bank, then with the interest about $15,000, and used it to pay the expenses....

The romance includes the trip in a sailing vessel around the “Horn,” the “49ers outfit” in San Francisco, and on the way to the “placer diggins,” the death scene in the pueblo of Los Angeles, the story of the sack of “gold dust” that reached the sweetheart, and its use later in giving cheer to thousands of unhappy homes.

Only on the two occasions were these disclosures of that heart secret, and yet visions of her sweetheart are said to have appeared to Clara in her dying hours. The most sacred of the heart secrets of womankind Clara Barton carried with her to the other world—a secret of her love affair which her closest friends think may have been the inspiration of her self-sacrifice for humanity.

LXXI

Clara Barton represented the spirit that knows not race nor color.

_New York Globe._

Charity and beneficence are degraded by being reduced to a dependence
on a system of beggary. CLARA BARTON.

A grateful mind is a great mind. T. SECKER.

There is not a more pleasing attitude of mind than gratitude.

JOSEPH ADDISON.

A grateful mind is not only the greatest of virtues but the greatest
of all virtues. CICERO.

Don’t kneel to me—that is not right. You must kneel to God only, and
thank Him for the liberty you will now enjoy. I am but God’s humble
instrument. A. LINCOLN.

Grateful to me! It is I who should be grateful, and I am.

CLARA BARTON.

We of South Carolina can never forget her contributions to the
storm-wrecked people on our desolated sea-coast, after the fearful
tempest of 1893. She came as an angel of mercy. With uncovered heads,
and with profound deference, we bow to the blessed name of Clara
Barton. _The Southern Reporter._

FELL ON THEIR KNEES BEFORE “MIS’ RED CROSS”

A terrific hurricane and tidal wave had struck the coasts of North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia. It was estimated that at least thirty thousand people were rendered homeless,—the larger number of these being of the colored population. Governor Tillman and Senator M. C. Butler sent an urgent request to Clara Barton to come to their assistance.

Clothing was so scarce among the poor colored people that only the men could appear on the streets. About four o’clock in the morning, a crowd gathered about the warehouse. Only men were present and these were attired in such garments as could be found, mostly ragged at the best. In some cases only rags were tied about them, just enough to enable them to come for their rations of food, for their starving families. A motley crowd it was, but there was never any jostling or crowding, nor confusion of any sort.

“Many pathetic scenes come to my mind as I remember this work,” says “Sister Harriette.” “When Miss Barton was engaged and could not be seen, it was my place to receive the visitors, ascertain their wishes, and dispose of them as seemed best. They called Miss Barton ‘Mis’ Red Cross,’ came to see her, sometimes in crowds and, when she was not otherwise engaged, they were taken to her office. Many of them were old women, and upon entering the room one and all fell upon their knees and bowed their heads, as if in the presence of a superior being. She approached them graciously; some seized her hands and kissed them; others reached a fold of her skirts and carried it to their lips, never saying a word, asking for nothing, satisfied with just being permitted to look at her. They left as quietly as they had come in and went out to their homes satisfied that they had been permitted to see ‘Mis’ Red Cross.’”

MARIO G. MENOCAL

In commendation of the Founder of the American Red Cross—Clara Barton,
it gives me great pleasure to state that her services rendered to
the cause of humanity in general and the poor starving people of
Cuba in particular, during our last struggle for independence, were
inestimable and her memory is linked to the history of Cuba by ties
of gratitude, love and respect.
MARIO G. MENOCAL,
The President of Cuba, 1912–1920.

See pages 82; 100; 234; 241; 354.
]

LXXII

While the American Navy (in 1899) was sinking the ships of Spain, the
Spanish Cortes, by unanimous vote, granted Clara Barton a “Diploma,” a
“Decoration,” and a “Vote of Thanks”; and following the war, a
“Diploma of Gratitude.” THE AUTHOR.

I am with the wounded. CLARA BARTON.

Cuba was a hard field, full of heart-breaking memories.

CLARA BARTON.

Send food, medicine—anything. CLARA BARTON.

It is to the Rough Riders we go, and the relief may be rough but it
will be ready. CLARA BARTON.

At the time of the Spanish-American War, in Cuba, Colonel Theodore
Roosevelt personally accepted favors at the hands of Clara Barton, as
President of the Red Cross. PERCY H. EPLER.

Keep the pot boiling; let us know what you want.

CLARA BARTON.

The first American War (Spanish-American), since the adoption of the
Treaty of Geneva, has brought the Red Cross home to the people; they
have come to understand its meaning and desire to become a part of it.
CLARA BARTON.

Without the Red Cross, as one of our treaties, we could not in the
Spanish-American War have floated a relief boat without danger of
capture. CLARA BARTON.

The Red Cross of Spain has officially recognized in a most graceful
and welcome manner its high appreciation and gratitude for the good
offices we were able to render in line of our duty to its sick and
wounded countrymen, during the late Spanish-American War.

CLARA BARTON.

CLARA BARTON’S TRIBUTE TO CUBA

After the Spanish-American war nearly 500 of the leading men and women of Cuba joined in inscribing their names together with the most touching tribute, and sentiments of appreciation, in a beautiful album to Clara Barton. In order to get their signatures it required five and one half years of time for the collection of the same throughout the Republic.

Miss Barton’s reply to the testimonial in part follows:

“I have watched the beautiful island since independence came to it as a proud, careful mother watches her child; have seen the steps, at first uncertain, grow to the sturdy strides of manhood, and the gem of the sea become a nation among nations and its destinies held by the same strong patient hands that so struggled for its life.

“It had learned endurance from suffering, drawn strength from adversity, courage from the proud ancestral nations whose blood is its own, and the memory of its untold woes has enveloped it in a veil of tender thoughtful justice to others that will form its brightest gem.

“God bless the new nation the world is glad to welcome. She is still the ‘Gem of the Ocean.’ My soul craves once more to look upon her beautiful face, and its grateful prayer forever goes up to Him who ruleth and guideth all—that He watch over her, keep her pure and true, and safe-guard forever her motto and watchword, ‘Cuba Libre’!”

NOTE.—If Cuba gets free, she must come to the United States, as she is
too small to stand alone against the greed of great nations which will
try to gobble her up for her riches, in soil and products. (Prophecy
in 1874) Clara Barton.

LXXIII

Upon every line of Clara Barton’s life may be hung a thrilling story
of perilous adventure and pathetic moving incidents.

“_Clara Barton and Her Work._”

Like everything in Corsica, my education was pitiful.

NAPOLEON.

Greatness is nothing, if it is not lasting. NAPOLEON.

Impossible! That word is not in the French dictionary.

NAPOLEON.

Drama is the tragedy of women. NAPOLEON.

I have fought like a lion for the Republic and, by way of recompense,
it grants me permission to die of hunger. NAPOLEON.

Fortune is a woman. The more she does for us the more we expect.
NAPOLEON.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. SHAKESPEARE.

The wicked flee when no man pursueth. PSALMS.

The thief doth fear each bush an officer. SHAKESPEARE.

Little sea-girt Corsica is weird, wild, soft and bewitching, strange,
unique, but she had so much that one wearied of.

CLARA BARTON.

AT THE BIRTHPLACE OF NAPOLEON—THE CORSICAN BANDIT

At Ajaccio, on the Island of Corsica, there is still carefully preserved the house where was born Napoleon, in 1769. The island (a French Colony) is 114 miles long and 52 miles wide, and contains about 300,000 inhabitants; Ajaccio, the capital, about 19,000 inhabitants. Many of the street names, and statues of the city likewise, perpetuate the memory of the great military chieftain, as do other spots of similar historic interest in connection with his boyhood.

At Ajaccio, Clara Barton lived for some time. There she not only visited every place of interest but she also studied the character, and military strategy, of that masterful leader of men, as later she studied him in the city made by him “Paris Beautiful.”

For a time, until she regained her health, she lived _incognito_; later, she produced a letter from our U. S. Minister Washburn, then at the Court of Paris. When her identity became known she was overwhelmed with attentions from the natives, as well as from Americans, and attended many receptions given in her honor by that most hospitable people. Her experiences there were so numerous and sensational as worthy to become the basis for a great novel.

From the back door of her hotel a path led out into a forest of wildness and rare beauty. Describing the wood, by way of comparison, Clara Barton said: “The wood of Cuba is beautiful in quality, but hard to burn; in Corsica, one may take the green, wet wood and make a blazing fire.” By the side of the house were terraces on which were orange trees, loaded with the golden fruit. A little strategy secured what oranges Miss Barton wanted. She would take her blue bandana, put a franc in it, tie the ends of the bandana with a stone mason’s cord, then let it down from her room on the fourth story of the hotel to a little girl living in a rude hut. The back of the hut was against a precipitous stone cliff, the living quarters of the girl’s family being partly in the hut and partly in a chamber blasted out of the rock, as frequently occurs on the island. The girl would fill the bandana with fruit then, the signal given, Miss Barton would pull the fruit through the side window to her sick room.

All Americans in Europe are supposed to have money. Clara Barton there alone, unsuspecting and unguarded, was not protected against theft. A native bandit one evening sneaked into her room and demanded her money, or her life. With her usual presence of mind, and fearlessness in imminent danger, Clara Barton at the top of her voice cried out: “Now, boys, come on; I’ve got him!” Quicker than it takes to tell it, the bandit jumped through an open window in one corner of the room, and escaped into the forest.

LXXIV

Clara Barton, beloved by every one who knew her. HON. PETER VOORHEES
DEGRAW, U. S. Fourth Postmaster General.

And memory turns to him fondly
Whom we call by the name of Friend!—
CARL F. ROSECRANS.

The chiefest of human virtues,—loyalty to friends.