Part 2
FIVE PHOTOGRAPHS OF CLARA BARTON 300
ATTORNEYS FOR THE AMERICAN RED CROSS SOCIETY UNDER THE PRESIDENCY OF CLARA BARTON 321
Richard Olney
Lewis A. Stebbins
William H. Sears
BADGES, MEDALS, DECORATIONS between pages 326 and 327
DORENCE ATWATER 332
DEDICATION OF MEMORIAL TO CLARA BARTON AT ANDERSONVILLE, GEORGIA 332
CEMETERY AT ANDERSONVILLE, GEORGIA 339
DR. G. PASDERMADJIAN between pages 342 and 343
I. H. R. PRINCE GUY DE LUSIGNAN between pages 342 and 343
ABDUL-HAMID 346
WILLIAM R. DAY 355
HER BUSINESS RECORD between pages 358 and 359
Benjamin F. Butler
Francis Atwater
Leonard F. Ross
REDFIELD PROCTOR between pages 358 and 359
THE AMERICAN RED CROSS BUILDING, WASHINGTON, D. C. 362
HENRY BRECKENRIDGE 369
REPRESENTATIVE OF UNITED STATES CONGRESS 380
Champ Clark
Charles F. Curry
Denver S. Church
REUNION OF 21ST MASSACHUSETTS REGIMEN between pages 390 and 391
THE MEMORIAL TREE PLANTING TO THE MEMORY OF CLARA between pages BARTON, 1922 406 and 407
Lieutenant-General Nelson A. Miles, with the first shovel of dirt
Mrs. John A. Logan, with second shovel of dirt
The Clara Barton Oak
Miss Carrie Harrison, planting the Clara Barton Rose
Charles Sumner Young, while delivering the memorial address
WILLIAM HOWARD TAFT 417
THE INSIDE OF MEMORIAL BUILDING, OXFORD, MASSACHUSETTS between pages 422 and 423
THE OXFORD, MASSACHUSETTS, MEMORIAL BUILDING between pages 422 and 423
REPRESENTATIVE MASSACHUSETTS STATESMEN 428
Henry Wilson
Charles Sumner
George F. Hoar
UNITED STATES SENATORS WHO SAW THE WORK OF CLARA BARTON 430
Charles E. Townsend
Jacob H. Gallinger
H. D. Money
NELSON A. MILES 433
JOHN J. PERSHING 435
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 442
THE RED CROSS MONUMENT 444
The embossed cut on the front cover is a reproduction of a bronze bust by Mrs. Otto Heideman.
CLARA BARTON
There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold.
I
I take my pencil (at 86 years of age) to describe the first moment of my life that I remember. CLARA BARTON—In _The Story of My Childhood._
Do not sin against the child. GENESIS.
The fir trees dark and high, I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky. HOOD—_I remember, I remember_.
The rude wooden cradle in which Clara Barton was rocked is now one of the very interesting curios in possession of the Worcester (Mass.) Historical Society. THE AUTHOR.
The child’s grief throbs against the round of its little heart as heavily as the man’s sorrow. CHAPIN.
Baby lips will laugh me down. TENNYSON.
A child’s sob curseth deeper in the silence Than the strong man in his wrath. E. B. BROWNING.
Dispel not the happy delusions of children. GOETHE.
Happy child! The cradle is to thee a vast space.
SCHILLER.
Who can foretell for what high cause This destiny of the gods was born. ANDREW MARVELL.
BABYHOOD IMPRESSIONS
Babyhood repeats itself. Babyhood is practically the same yesterday, today and forever. And yet who does not try to recall first impressions and first experiences? Clara Barton says her first baby experience that she recalls was when she was two and one half years of age. She thus describes it:—
“Baby los’ ’im—pitty bird—baby los’ ’im—baby mos’ caught ’im.
“At length they succeeded in inducing me to listen to a question, ‘But where did it go, Baby?’
“Among my heart-breaking sobs I pointed to a small round hole under the doorstep. The terrified scream of my mother remained in my memory forevermore. Her baby had ‘mos’ caught’ a snake.”
Her second experience that she recalls was when four years old, at a funeral of a beloved friend of the family. She previously had been terrified by a large old ram on the farm. On this occasion she was left in care of a guardian, in a sitting room. The four windows were open. Suddenly there came up a thunder storm. Sharp flashes of lightning darted through the rising, rolling clouds. She thought the whole heavens were full of angry rams and they were coming down upon her. Her screams alarmed, and her brother rushed into the room only to find her on the floor in hysterics.
Sorrows put permanent wrinkles on the face, in maturity; on the mind, in childhood. Only strangeness may produce fear in babyhood but, with a baby, strangeness is everywhere. Darkness and strange noises frighten. Forms of phantasy float on the imagination; when gradually, it’s comedy; when suddenly, it’s tragedy.
These tragic moments left their impressions on Clara Barton’s plastic mind. Such impressions ever must remain. Miss Barton said she remembered nothing but fear in her earlier years; and terror-stricken she remained to the end, except when she could serve someone in distress, or rescue someone from danger of death. An English philosopher says: “the least and most imperceptible impressions received in our infancy have consequences very important and are of long duration.” The greatest minds of earth, in all ages, have tried to recall baby experiences, and have wondered what they had to do with success or failure.
II
At three years Clara Barton was taken a mile and one-half to school on the shoulders of her brother Stephen; at eleven years she ceased growing, then but five feet three inches. THE AUTHOR.
When I found myself on a strange horse, in a trooper’s saddle, flying for life or liberty in front of pursuit, I blessed the baby lessons of the wild gallops among the beautiful colts.
CLARA BARTON.
Clara Barton—The memories of her childhood belong to our little town, and are our most precious heritage.
MRS. ALLEN L. JOSLYN, Oxford, Mass.
Remember that you were once a child, full of childish thoughts and actions. CLARA BARTON.
Sweetly wild Were the scenes that charmed me when a child. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
The sports of children satisfy the child. GOLDSMITH.
Children’s plays are not sports, and should be regarded as their most serious actions. MONTAGUE.
When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. I CORINTHIANS.
A sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature. C. LAMB.
Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now. S. WORDSWORTH.
The scenes of childhood are memories of future years.
J. O. CHOULES.
I do not like to beat my children—the world will beat them.
ELIHU BURRITT.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood When fond recollections present them to view. S. WORDSWORTH.
Deep meaning often lies in childish plays. SCHILLER.
Backward, turn backward, O time, in your flight! Make me a child again, just for to-night. ELIZABETH A. ALLEN.
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain; Take them, and give me my childhood again! E. A. ALLEN.
The Baker homestead (Bow, N. H.)—Around the memory thereof cluster the golden days of my childhood.
MARY BAKER EDDY.
A long way seems the dear old New England home—its sheltering groves and quiet hills; amid the clustering memories my tears are falling thick and silently like the autumn leaves in forest dells.
CLARA BARTON.
Children have more need of models than of critics.
JOSEPH JOUBERT.
Children think not of what is past nor of what is to come but enjoy the present time, which few of us do.
LA BRUYERE.
Women are only children of a larger growth.
CHESTERFIELD—_Letter to his son_.
The only fun is to do things. CLARA BARTON.
I pledged myself to strive only for the courage of the right and for the blessedness of true womanhood. CLARA BARTON.
SCHOOL—CHILDISH MEMORIES—MILITARY
What woman has not said “I remember when I was a girl....” Clara Barton at eighty-six years said, in the story of her childhood, I remember ..., I remember riding wild colts when I was five years of age. I remember how frightened I was, but acquired assurance when my brother used to tell me to “cling fast to the mane.” To this day (at eighty-six years of age) my seat in the saddle, or on the bare back of a horse, is as secure and tireless as in a rocking chair. I remember I thought the President might be as large as the meeting house and the Vice President perhaps the size of the school house. I remember telling my teacher that I did not spell such little words as “cat” and “dog,” but I spell in artichoke, artichoke being the first word in the column of three syllables.
I remember writing verses, many of which for years were preserved—some of these verses by others recited to amuse people—some verses to tease me. I remember, in school, making a mistake in pronouncing ‘Ptolmy,’ when the children laughed at me, and I burst out crying and left the room.
I remember that my father taught me politics; and that, as an old soldier,[1] he amused the other children and myself by giving us practical lessons in military life. We used improvised material, such as children are accustomed to use in “playing soldier,”—paper caps, plumes, banners, kettle for the kettle drum, tin swords, sticks for guns and bayonets—all of which were perfectly satisfactory to us.
Footnote 1:
A Clara Barton paternal ancestor immigrated to America from Lancashire, England, about twelve years after the landing of _The Mayflower_. Since that date a direct descendant of his has participated in every war, by this country.
Our muskets were of cedar wood With ramrods bright and new;
With bayonets forever set, And painted barrels, too.
We shouldered arms, we carried arms, We charged the bayonet; And woe unto the mullen stalk That in our course we met!
The armies played havoc with each other, had fearful encounters and, what seemed to our young minds then, suffered disastrous results. Camps, regiments, brigades, military terms, she said, thus became familiar to her as the most ordinary matters of home.
Is it warm in that green valley, Vale of childhood, where you dwell? Is it calm in that green valley, Round whose bowers such great hills swell? Are there giants in the valley— Giants leaving footprints yet? Are there angels in the valley? Tell me—I forget.
III
In my home here at Oxford, we would listen with intense interest to the story of her early years, to childhood and girlhood, and to scenes and events in her old home on the hillside. Clara Barton, by her shining example to our children and our children’s children, has left a rare legacy to the town of her birth.
MRS. A. L. JOSLYN—In _Clara Barton In Memoriam_.
Bucephalus was calmed, and subdued, by the presence of Alexander and became his favorite war-horse.
ABBOTT.
My arms, my arms. My horse; come quick, my horse——. JOAN OF ARC.
My brother David was the “Buffalo Bill” of all that surrounding country.
CLARA BARTON.
My father was a lover of horses, one of the first in the vicinity to introduce blooded stock.
CLARA BARTON.
The first horses imported into the United States were brought to New England in 1629. Surviving the ocean voyage were one horse and seven mares. Oxen being used for all farm work, horses did not come into general use until one hundred years afterwards.
THE AUTHOR.
Joan of Arc, Clara Barton and Florence Nightingale was each an expert horsewoman and each made use of her skill in horsemanship, in war.
THE AUTHOR.
ON HER FAVORITE BLACK HORSE
Like many other country girls, Clara Barton was fond of horseback riding. When twelve years of age, on one occasion, she ran away from home to go for a ride. She came down stairs quietly and slipped out for a ride on her favorite black horse.
What a wild triumph, that this “girlish hand” Such a steed in the might of his strength may command!
Falling from the horse, she injured her knee. Determined to keep the injury a secret she joined her brothers in the field as though nothing had happened. But she limped, and her brothers noticed it. She merely told her brothers she had injured her knee, but would say no more. They sent for a doctor. By plying many questions as to how it happened, the doctor drew from her a confession. In later life—in the Civil War, in the Franco-Prussian War, in the Spanish American War, her skill as a horseback rider was of great service to her. On several occasions she had to “ride for her life.” In speaking of this accomplishment, she used to say “When I was a little girl I could ride like a Mexican.”
IV
Clara Barton—the pitying sweetness which fills her eyes and the sympathetic lines which have been drawn about her mouth bear witness to a long intimacy with suffering and death.
Central (Mo.) _Christian Advocate_. (1912)
Physiognomy is the language of the face. JEREMY COLLIER.
Physiognomy is reading the handwriting of nature upon the human countenance. CHATFIELD.
Palmistry is a science as old as the history of the human race. The mind deceives; the hand tells the truth; the thumb in particular, the tell-tale of character.
DOLORES CORTEZ, _Queen of the Spanish Gypsies_.
Show me an outspread hand and I’ll show you whether or not its master is honest, is kind, is affectionate.
ARTHUR DELROY, _Author_.
* * * * *
Human nature, as unfolded by phrenology, is being universally accepted by all classes of people. CRANIUM.
Phrenology can be used in every phase of life. C. S. HARDISON.
Phrenology is very fruitful in its capacity to paint mental images.
MISS JESSIE ALLEN FOWLER.
Phrenology,—a science that has been of great help to us in the progress of life. DOCTOR CHARLES H. SHEPARD.
The shape of the brain may generally be ascertained by the form of the skull. O. S. AND L. N. FOWLER.
Phrenology professes to point out a connection between certain _manifestations of the mental and peculiar conditions and developments of the brain_. O. S. AND L. N. FOWLER.
Of all the people in England, I was most glad to meet Doctor L. N. Fowler, the same gentle, kind man he used to be so many years ago, and who has done so much for the middle classes of England, giving them helpful advice they could not get from other sources. CLARA BARTON.
Remembering that fully one-fifth of my life (1856) has been passed as a teacher in schools, it is not strange that I should feel some interest in the cause of education. CLARA BARTON.
’Tis education forms the common mind; just as the twig is bent the tree is inclined. ALEXANDER POPE.
PHRENOLOGY—READ HER CHARACTERISTICS—BASIS OF FRIENDSHIP
The physiognomist reads character in the face; the palmist in the hand; the phrenologist in the skull. Physiognomy since the origin of man has been nature’s open book. The science of palmistry is at least five thousand years old; but the science of phrenology is of comparatively recent origin. When Clara Barton was a little girl phrenology received its really first great impulse in this country, through the lectures and writings of the Doctors Fowler of England. In England, as in this country, phrenology was then the subject of much ridicule. Of this strange science Thomas Hood sarcastically writes:
’Tis strange how like a very dunce, Man, with his bumps upon his sconce, Had lived so long; and yet no knowledge he Has had, till lately, of phrenology— A science that by simple dint of Head-combining he should find a hint of, When scratching o’er those little pole-hills The faculties threw up like mole hills.
Little Clara was bashful, afraid of strangers, too timid to sit at the family table when guests were present; would not so much as tell her name when asked to do so. When spoken to by a stranger she would burst out crying—sometimes leaving the room. Now and then she would go hungry rather than ask a favor even of a member of the family. Doctor L. N. Fowler visited Oxford. While there he was a guest at the Barton home.
Doctor, what shall we do with this girl, asked the mother; she annoys us almost to death. We can hardly speak to her without her crying, from fear. The doctor examined her head. He replied, she is timid, that’s all. The “bump” of fear is over-developed. Nothing will change a child’s innate fear; that is a characteristic of her nature. She may outgrow it to some extent but her sensitive nature will remain as long as she lives. The doctor advised the parents to give her something to do; to keep her at work, and thus to let her forget herself. Don’t scold her; encourage her. When she does anything well, give her full credit—compliment her. Throw responsibility on her; when she is old enough give her a school to teach.
To be understood is the basis of friendship. The Doctor understood Clara; little Clara understood the Doctor. They became friends. That friendship lasted through life. Many years after the Doctor visited Oxford Clara Barton visited the Doctor, in London. They spent evenings together. The Doctor renewed his interest in the people of those early days in New England. He especially recalled the characteristics of Miss Barton’s father;—they became mutually reminiscent of the days of her childhood. The Doctor had then become old and decrepit but was still giving lectures on phrenology. The happiest hours Clara Barton spent in England were in the home of the Fowlers; with the Doctor, his charming wife and three beautiful daughters.
V
The earth can never have enough women like Clara Barton.
Detroit (Mich.) _Free Press._
Clara Barton belonged not only to the United States but to the entire civilized world. Boston (Mass.) _Globe._
A merry heart doeth good like a medicine. PROVERBS.
Laugh and the world laughs with you. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
SHAKESPEARE.
A little nonsense now and then Is relished by the best of men. ANONYMOUS.
The next best thing to a very good joke is a very bad one.
J. C. HARE.
Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he. GOLDSMITH.
If ever there were lost, or omitted, a well-turned joke or a bit of humor by the various members of the Barton family it was clearly an accident. CLARA BARTON.
Joking decides great things stronger and better of’t than earnest can. MILTON-HORACE.
“SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION” LAID TO CLARA BARTON
A timid child is invariably the butt of jokes. Clara Barton, in her youth, was not an exception. As a little girl she had learned to weave, working in a North Oxford satinet mill. She had not been it work there very long when the mill took fire and burned down. Then, as no satisfactory explanation of the cause could be given by the members of the Barton family, the fire was attributed to spontaneous combustion, brought on because Clara had worked so fast as to set the mill on fire. Clara Barton did not object to, but rather enjoyed, a joke on herself. She used to tell her friends of this joke and said that in her own town and among her playmates that joke was “told on me for many years.”
VI
Forget not Christmas. HENRY _IV._ of England.
At Christmas be merry, and thankful withal, And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small. TUSSER.
Those who at Christmas do repine, And would fain hence despatch him, May they with old Duke Humphry dine, Or else may ‘Squire Ketch catch him.’ POOR ROBIN’S ALMANAC, 1684.
Without the door let sorrow lie, And if, for cold, it hap to die, Wee ’le bury ’t in a Christmas pye, And evermore be merry. WITHER’S JUVENILIA.
Now Christmas is come, Let us beat up the drum, And call all our neighbors together. And when they appear, Let us make them such cheer, As will keep out the wind and the weather. OLD SONG.
A Christmas baby! Now, isn’t that the best kind of a Christmas gift for us all? FATHER STEPHEN BARTON (1821).
Clara Barton was a Christmas present, given to the world.
Bridgeport (Conn.) _Standard_ (—In 1912).
The sweet love-planted Christmas tree. WILL CARLETON.
A good conscience is a continual Christmas.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
This day shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.
SHAKESPEARE.
I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year. CHARLES DICKENS.
On Christmas Day we will shut out from our fireside nothing.
CHARLES DICKENS.
’Tis the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial fire of charity in the heart. WASHINGTON IRVING.
I was born on one bright Christmas day, and I am told that there was a great family jubilation upon the occasion. CLARA BARTON.
For which the shepherds at their festivals Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays. JOHN MILTON.
The winds ever chant on the bright Christmas morn, The sweetest of carols for “Two” that were born. E. MAY GLENN TOON.
CHRISTMAS A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1894)
For my 30,000 Sea Island Friends
A Loving Greeting and Merry Christmas. CLARA BARTON.