Part 10

All organization is difficult; Clara Barton organized. She brought into existence the machinery of the organization and her master mind, unerring, directed the movements of every part of the machinery, “in a way that the people knew what she had done and are more than satisfied.” Without a title she occupied such a position as now must be filled by the male executive of a great nation. In qualities feminine, in sympathy tender, shrinking from publicity as no other woman in history, she filled a public-service position as no man could fill it. To an audience of women in Boston, another self-sacrificing woman who would serve the human race, said: “Clara Barton is an epitome in her life and character of all that is best in woman; she is what we would all like to be.”

XLV

She had all the royal makings of a queen. SHAKESPEARE.

She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen. HOMER—_Iliad_.

Clara Barton, America’s uncrowned queen.

HON. FRANCIS ATWATER.

We crown you in our minds and hearts as a “Queen Among Women.” B. H. WARNER, Chairman, Public Reception, Washington, August 8, 1896, to Clara Barton on her return from Turkey and Armenia.

Clara Barton’s “queenliness as a woman and womanliness as a queen” endear her to our hearts beyond all words.

President Economics Club, Chicago, Ill.

Clara Barton should be exalted above queens.

Central Relief Committee of Galveston, Texas.

KNEELED BEFORE HER AND KISSED HER HAND

In 1902 the International Red Cross Conference was held at St. Petersburg. At this conference the civilized nations of the world were either indirectly or directly represented. The Czar and Czarina gave Clara Barton a special audience. The Dowager Empress also gave her the honor of a state dinner. Of all the delegates present Clara Barton was the most sought after personage. Not only at St. Petersburg but wherever she went throughout Europe, similar queenly honors were accorded Clara Barton by rulers and world-famed military officers.

When they came into her presence and were introduced, as to a queen, the greatest generals kneeled before her, and kissed her hand. They were invariably profuse in compliments and in undisguised praise of her services to humanity. Whenever the little, modest, timid woman attended the sessions of the Conference as she entered the hall the whole audience would rise to their feet and would remain standing while she was walking down the aisle to take her seat, and this was not infrequently accompanied by cheers and the waving of handkerchiefs, as if in the presence of royalty.

Referring to Clara Barton, at a public reception, one of America’s great women said: “No one loves a self-sacrificing woman as well as—as all other good women.” In America, as in Europe, Clara Barton was honored as has been no other American woman,—by the “First Lady of the Land,” by the Julia Ward Howes, by the Frances Willards, by the Susan B. Anthonys, by all great and good women—all recognizing her “queenliness as a woman and womanliness as a queen,” and graciously willing to crown her “Queen Among Women.” Writers also have referred to her as “The Angel of the Battlefield,” “The Angel of the World’s Battlefields,” “The Beautiful Lady of the Potomac,” “The American Lady with the Lamp,” “The Angel of Peace,” “The Angel of Mercy,” “The Angel of Humanity,” “Our Lady of the Red Cross.”

XLVI

Life at best is so exhaustive. FRANK W. GUNSAULIS, D. D.

Clara Barton was a soft-voiced little woman, yet she had a way of approaching her work in the most telling manner.

_Buffalo Express._

The Stars make no noise. IRISH PROVERB.

The secret of my long life, “Hard work and low fare.”

CLARA BARTON.

A surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM.

They are sick that surfeit with too much, As they that starve with nothing. MERCHANT OF VENICE.

This was the afternoon of Monday. Since Saturday noon I had not thought of tasting food.

CLARA BARTON (At Battle of Chantilly).

You have the full record of my sleep—from Friday night till Monday morning—two hours.

CLARA BARTON (Among the wounded at Chantilly).

At Cedar Mountain, among the wounded, Clara Barton had five days and nights with only three hours’ sleep, and a narrow escape from capture. PERCY H. EPLER.

I never think of weariness. CLARA BARTON.

Clara had some source of strength that we knew nothing about.

“SISTER HARRIETTE” L. REED.

Clara Barton’s endurance is unprecedented, and I have never known her equal. SURGEON-IN-CHIEF A. MONAE-LESSER.

Gentleness, sweetness, quiet unobtrusiveness were her armor; from dawn to midnight usually her working day; the frugal meal at Red Cross headquarters was frequently prepared solely by her hand. CHARLES A. BAKER, Treasurer, Red Cross.

Clara Barton: My working hours are fourteen out of the twenty-four.

Port Royal Nurse: You mean eighteen out of the twenty-four, Miss Barton, don’t you?

I NEVER GET TIRED—EATING, THE LEAST OF MY TROUBLES

“Miss Barton, these workers say they are _starving_,” said “Sister Harriette”; “it’s four o’clock, and they have had nothing to eat since early morning.”

“Why, bless their dear hearts; I had forgotten all about them. Take them to the restaurant across the street, and get them something to eat.”

“But, Miss Barton, you need a rest and something to eat as much as we do.” “Oh, no, I never get tired, you know, and eating is the least of my troubles.” Miss Barton kept at her work in the warehouse, unpacking and repacking, preparatory to leaving.

In the dusk of the evening, her assistants returned and Miss Barton was still there, alone, and at work. Turning to the workers Sister Harriette said: “Did you ever see such a tireless worker? Miss Barton must have some source of strength we know nothing about.”

The relief workers had cared for, provisioned and resettled in their homes 30,000 negro refugees, victims of the cyclone and hurricane disaster on the Carolina Islands. The party arrived at Beaufort late that night; the “workers,” worn out; Clara Barton, as vigorous as when the relief-work-campaign opened ten months before.

XLVII

Clara Barton, “Our Lady of the Red Cross”—her real life is measured by deeds, not days—rich in the joy of service.

MARY R. PARKMAN—Author of _Heroines of Service_.

The ladies of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, presented Clara Barton with a gold pin having a large diamond in the center. From it hung two small gold chains to which was attached a superb gold locket with a beautiful sapphire on the face of it. THE AUTHOR.

Clara Barton learned how to care for her many pets which lived in the farm yard and was especially fond of horses. Her turkeys, dogs, geese, and cats were added to Clara’s stock of pets. She also learned to milk the cows. ENGLISH AUTHOR.

I was a very poor boy, hired on a flat-boat at $8.00 a month—if you call this aristocracy, I plead guilty to the charge.

A. LINCOLN.

I have neither clerk nor typewriter; I still _aristocratically_ eat by myself and do my own work. CLARA BARTON.

ROYALTY UNDER A QUAKER BONNET

Clara Barton had at Glen Echo a beautiful pet Jersey cow. This she personally cared for, feeding and milking her morning and evening. While milking the cow she would wear usually a plain black gown, white and blue checked apron, a white shawl over her shoulders, and on her head a brown, old-fashioned Quaker bonnet. As pendants on her breast there would be the elegant Pansy pin, presented to her by the Grand Duchess of Baden, and the Iron Cross of Prussia, presented to her by the Emperor of Germany. These royal jewels she had promised the donors to wear as long as she lived, and the promise she faithfully kept, whether she was in the parlor entertaining guests or in the yard among the animals doing the “chores.”

Miss Barton: What beautiful medals you are wearing.

Diplomat: Oh, yes, Miss Barton, but mine are from my own country, while yours are from the whole world.

XLVIII

Clara Barton, a Christian-like spirit.

Pueblo (Colo.) _Chieftain_.

Clara Barton—no other woman has come so near the Christ Spirit. Worcester (Mass.) _Gazette_.

Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils. JOHN MILTON.

This was the most unkindest cut of all. JULIUS CAESAR.

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile. SHAKESPEARE.

The wicked plotteth against the just. PSALMS.

The black destroyers, the red torturers Shall vanish—they like smoke shall disappear. MOTHER ARMENIA.

Women always find their bitterest foes among their own sex.

J. PETIT-SENN.

’Twill not, false traitor! ’Twill not restore the truth and honesty That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies. JOHN MILTON.

The traitor to humanity is the traitor most accursed. LOWELL.

The utmost ingenuity of metaphysics cannot Excuse the man who wantonly wounds another. BENJAMIN CONSTANT.

A woman’s shape doth shield thee. SHAKESPEARE.

Aunt Clara has only Christian forgiveness for others. STEPHEN E. BARTON (Executor of the Clara Barton estate, 1911).

Clara Barton had no time to hate; only time to serve, to live, to give,—one of the greatest souls that ever came to earth.

ALICE HUBBARD.

STILL STAMPING ON ME—PERSONALLY UNHARMED

In a letter under date of November 20, 1905, Clara Barton said: “I thank you for the clipping concerning Miss ——’s lecture. I have received others not at all complimentary to me personally. I am learning some very bad things of myself.

“I wonder whether it ever occurs to her that taking a reputation and appropriating the work of another might be quite honest. I have, however, nothing to say. I have done with it all and so long as I am left _personally_ unharmed I expect nothing more. They have long ago done everything else, and I have lived through it thus far. If they think their work will progress faster, or show better, by still stamping on me I shall not complain. I never have.”

The fairest action of human life Is scorning to revenge an injury.

XLIX

Clara Barton—Let all flags fly at half-mast, and all the world stand reverently with uncovered head.

_Richmond_ (Va.) _Leader_.

The world stands with uncovered head.

Chicago (Ills.) _Inter-Ocean_.

A grateful world pays tribute to her. Boston (Mass.) _Pilot_.

Her soul goes marching on. Boston (Mass.) _Journal_.

The pomp that is attendant on funerals feeds rather the vanity of the living than does honor to the dead. ROCHEFOUCAULD.

Let me not be made to appear proud and fond of vain show, when I am dead. JOHN BURROUGHS.

When her mother died Clara Barton wore no evidence of mourning. THE AUTHOR.

Clara Barton said that death was only one of the things of life, a part of life. She is not dead; I cannot even say she is away.

ALICE HUBBARD—In _The Fra_.

Clara Barton still lives. FATHER TYLER.

Great sorrows speak not. C. MARAT.

The deeper the sorrow the less the tongue has it. TALMUD.

Suspect that sorrow which is anxious to show itself. RUZZIK.

Some grief shows much love But much of grief shows still some want of wit. ROMEO AND JULIET.

Excess of grief for the deceased is madness; for it is an injury to the living and the dead knows it not. XENOPHON.

Christ never preached any funeral sermons.

REV. D. L. MOODY.

I cannot go to Heaven until my work is done. CLARA BARTON.

How often I have wondered whether or not the souls will know us in the Great Beyond. CLARA BARTON.

The Red Cross is a peculiar institution, without nationality, race, creed or sect, embracing the entire world in its humanizing bond of brotherhood; without arbitrary laws or rules, and yet stronger than armies and higher than thrones. CLARA BARTON.

The world is my country; to do good is my religion.

TOM PAINE.

I know no section. In the labors that have come to me the nations of the world, and their strange tongues, have become my own. CLARA BARTON.

Just to have seen the collection of flags from all over the world, brought together through the mercy and loving kindness of one woman, made us feel that a Peace Proclamation is not an improbable thing. ALICE HUBBARD.

There flowed in upon Clara Barton blessings uttered in all tongues known among men. Portland (Ore.) _Telegram_.

All nations shall call you blessed. MALACHAI.

AT THE MEMORIAL—“THE FLAGS OF ALL NATIONS”—A GOOD TIME

Charon, the ancient guide over the River Styx, was peculiarly equipped to serve departing souls. Following the souls’ escape from earth, mourning customs are as numerous as are tribes and nations, as varied as are nationalities. At funerals, lives have been sacrificed, human forms disfigured, mourners employed, bells rung, lighted candles used—to serve their respective purposes, as have food, jewels, implements and weapons at the “last resting place.”

Go, call for the mourners and raise the lament, Let the tresses be torn and the garments be rent,—

Funerals and memorials sometimes are to honor the dead; sometimes to cater to the vanity of the living; sometimes seemingly to strengthen an organization, social, religious, political, but in every instance following custom’s ways. Were not the public funeral display the custom, it would be sacrilege—custom sanctifies barbarity. Averse to personal display Clara Barton was also averse to the use of any custom of public mourning.

At the memorial held in honor of America’s greatest humanitarian, soon after her passing, the stage and the boxes of the theatre were decorated with flags that had been given to Clara Barton by grateful nations. Some were of silk, rich and magnificent; some, battle-stained and bullet-scarred. Some she had carried on the battlefield along with the Red Cross flag, the emblem to the sick, wounded and dying, that an Angel of Mercy was winging her way to their presence. There were the flags of England, Germany, Austria, Belgium, Italy, Norway, France, Russia, Cuba, Prussia, Holland, Greece, Switzerland, Turkey—and the flag of the United States.

To me remains nor place nor time; My country is in every clime.

Anticipating that there might be a memorial for her by the Philadelphia School of Nurses, Clara Barton thus advised the President: “Do not make it a serious occasion; let the people laugh if they want to, and tell stories and have a good time. There is no reason why it should be serious.”

When I am dead, no pageant train Shall waste their sorrows at my bier.

L

Clara Barton—a biography of absorbing interest.

Duluth (Minn.) _Tribune_.

Clara Barton wrote several golden pages in the history of the brotherhood of man. Houghton (Mich.) _Gazette_.

“Amici! diem perdidimus” (Friends! we have lost a day), said Titus when at the end of a day he had nothing memorable for his diary. THE AUTHOR.

Nothing is of greater value than a single day. GOETHE.

A great library contains the diary of the human race.

GEORGE DAWSON.

The diary is greatly relied on by the writers of history, but—

CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER.

Tolstoi keeps a diary in which he notes down what he has been thinking. Translator for Tolstoi.

Diaries tell their little tales with a directness, a candor conscious or unconscious, a closeness of outlook which gratifies our sense of security. Reading them is like gazing through a small pane of clear glass. _Varia_—By AGNES REPPLIER.

A man’s diary is a record in youth of his sentiments, in middle age of his actions, in old age of his reflections.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

A well kept diary is one of the most interesting productions of human industry—not the least benefit of a diary is that it produces a taste for writing. REVEREND WILLIAM SUTTON, S. J.

We converse with the absent by letters, and with ourselves by diaries—many of our greatest characters in public life have left such monuments of their diurnal labors. ISAAC DISRAELI.

Her unpublished diaries and letters are my chief original sources of information that the book should come forth with the force of an autobiography. _The Life of Clara Barton_, by Epler.

Only two classes of people can keep diaries of unimportant things—those who never have time to do anything else and those who have stopped doing things. I have done neither. CLARA BARTON.

Clara Barton’s war diaries, and diaries of her travels, if published, would be eagerly read by the people and be of great historic interest. THE AUTHOR.

Clara Barton could say with Seneca: “I keep an account of my expenses; I cannot affirm that I lose nothing, but I can tell you what I lose, and why, and in what manner.” THE AUTHOR.

CLARA BARTON KEPT A DIARY

The diary is an important factor in literary culture, and likewise in history. Diaries in some form are probably co-existent with the history of man. Keeping diaries, however, was revived in the seventeenth century. The best known diaries are those by Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn, of England. In this country, among the many well known diarists are John Quincy Adams and Henry David Thoreau. From youth continuous through her long and eventful life, Clara Barton kept a diary. The subject matter therein consists of routine daily work, travels, public functions, personal opinions of people she met, and philosophizing, which would fill volumes with interesting reading.

In her diary also she discussed questions of the day, public men, the problem of life, spiritualism, religion, politics,—everything that passes through the human mind, besides keeping account of every cent expended and for what purpose. By reading her diaries, almost any friend could find Miss Barton’s opinion of himself. Before retiring for the night her custom, amounting almost to a religious one, was to write in her diary the day’s events.

Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to trace The forms our pencil or our pen designed; Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face, Such the soft image of our youthful mind.

Illustrating this remarkable characteristic in her life are appended two excerpts of a domestic nature from her diary in 1907, she then being eighty-seven years of age.

“DOING MY WORK,” AT 87

Friday, October 18, 1907.

This is my first day (since my illness) of doing my work and having a guest, but it has gone superbly. The breakfast table was neatly elegant—all silver and glass except the plates and cups and saucers. We had soft boiled eggs, cooked on the table, corn flakes, and a delightful platter of cream toast, with grapes, apple sauce, Dutch cheese and thick cream, and two kinds of coffee. Mr. Brown went to town returning at 5 P. M., when we had supper (or dinner)—a nicely cooked steak and sausage, fine potatoes, rice pudding, bananas, cake and tea—fruit.

I arranged the milk and cream, put the house in order, took care of lamps and room, and drafted a long letter to the Grand Duchess (from the medium), and Empress.

Doctor got Uncle Silas to come at evening and I engaged one hundred bundles of fodder at .04 cents a bundle, to be bought and put in the stable next week.

Have talked with Mr. Brown concerning Lucy.

“A RATHER HARD DAY”

Saturday, Oct. 26, 1907, Glen Echo.

Another fine day. But an experience this morning was anything but that. As Mrs. Barker did not come I was “doing up” the breakfast dishes at the sink and had put a kettle of beans on the stove to parboil for baking, as Doctor had expressed a desire for them. A rather heavy coal fire was going for this purpose. Suddenly I was startled by a great rush at the stove. Supposing that my kettle of beans had boiled over, I turned to see a flame three feet high from a vehicle larger than my kettle, pouring a liquid out over the hot stove that blazed the moment it touched. The Doctor had wanted to use some tar about the roof, and brought in a two-gallon tin bucket partly full and set it on the stove to warm up, and left it without speaking or in any way calling my attention to it. It had gotten boiling hot, and my first notice of its presence was the burst of blaze. The bucket of boiling black tar running over all on fire, the flame streaming up some two feet high. I called the Doctor at the cellar steps, at the windows—no response. The blaze went higher and wider. The carpenters must be on the roof and to the top I rushed, to find no one there—down again. I saw I was the only person on the premises. The room was dark with smoke. I could see little but the blaze. Four feet to the left stood a five-gallon can of kerosene oil for the lamps. I could not remove it and, if I could, I must carry it directly past the flame—if a spark reached, we would be blown to atoms, house and all. The floor was bare, with one or two small _cotton_ mats. I dared not use even them. There was but one way; I must grapple the boiling, blazing mass, take it across the room and throw it from the window. I had no inflammable material on me, being dressed in entire black silk, waist and skirt. There was no time to lose. I tore away the curtain, raised the window to its fullest height, seized the bucket firmly with both hands and landed it on the ground. I knew the smoke must raise outside help as I did it. The Doctor had been to the post office. He rushed in to find me in the midst of darkness. I had closed the doors at first, still the smoke poured out of the chamber windows we kept closed. My right hand, which had taken the tip of the bucket, was nearly covered in a coat of tar, put on boiling hot, and to stay. I did not try to remove it but put it in hot water and went to work with it. I need not say that the rest of the day was needed, and given to the house, but we were only too thankful that we _had_ a house to clean up. The tar coating and hot water saved the hand, so that a few heavy blisters tell the story of their hardship. It is all over now. I write this the _next_ day; last night I could not have done it.

Doctor went to Mrs. Warneke’s; I remained home. Mrs. Hinton came but I made no mention of the morning adventure. She has commenced her new home. I gave her butter, fruit, jellies, to help her table. A _rather_ hard day.

LI

All the world pays homage to the nurse—poets, warriors, statesmen, kings, and the numberless multitudes of human sufferers.... EUGENE UNDERHILL, M.D., author of “_Nursing—The Heart of the Art_.”

Efficient nurses are the most difficult to obtain of all aid in Red Cross work. CLARA BARTON.

I never claimed to be a nurse. There are hundreds of women who could nurse as well as I, if not better, than I could.

CLARA BARTON.

Time is the great physician. DISRAELI.

Physicians mend or end us. LORD BYRON.

Send for a physician;—but the sick man answered, “It is no matter for, if I die, I’ll die at leisure.” LORD BACON.

For the woman has a friend Who will keep her to the end. IRONQUILL.

NURSING A FINE ART—OVER THE WASHTUB

Was Clara Barton a nurse? Yes, and Florence Nightingale said that nursing is a fine art; and to succeed requires greater devotion than that in the art of painting or sculpture, for nursing has to do with “the living body, the temple of God’s spirit.” It’s probably the finest of the fine arts. Clara Barton did not assume the rôle of an art-nurse; she said others could surpass her in this art.

Miss Barton in her passion for service claimed to be only a “working-woman.” Work did not undignify her; instead, she seemed to dignify work—she surely made nursing popular. Work was a part of the best religion she ever had. With her

Human hopes and human creeds Have their seat in human needs.