CLARA BARTON AT HOME AND ABROAD
Strenuous were the years of Miss Barton’s administration of the
American Red Cross. There was upon an average practically one disaster
a year which called her organization into the field. In some instances
the active work of the Red Cross upon the ground lasted only a few
weeks; in other cases, as in the matter of the South Carolina Sea
Islands, it consumed almost a year. The intervals between disasters
were occupied by correspondence, addresses, articles for the press,
and attendance to the many duties brought on by a widened acquaintance
and a constantly growing interest in the work. They were years, too,
in which Miss Barton was sometimes personally short of money. In no
other period, as in this, do her diaries so clearly show the necessity
which she felt for personal economy for the sake of the work. She
declined the four-thousand-dollar salary which was suggested for her;
she vetoed every proposal looking toward a Government appropriation for
her personal benefit or for the work of the Red Cross. If during this
long period she ever thought of the Red Cross in terms of a possible
financial advantage to herself, her diaries betray no hint of it. If
she ever thought of the possibility that Congress might take care of
her, the innumerable letters which passed between her and the members
of the two houses of Congress afford no indication of it.
The adhesion of the United States to the Treaty of Geneva did,
however, take her abroad a number of times, once or more at Government
expense, as one of the three official representatives of the United
States at certain international congresses. The appropriations to
cover the expenses of a delegate were never very large; generally two
thousand dollars for the expense of three delegates. In connection
with one of these journeys an interesting correspondence developed in
which one of the delegates exceeded in expenditure his none too ample
allowance of less than seven hundred dollars. He wrote a long letter
explaining why it had been necessary for him to expend more, and
desired Clara Barton to approve his request for an increase. This she
declined to do either for herself or for either of the others. For her
simple tastes the appropriation was ample; she lived within it and her
associates had to do the same or make up the balance out of their own
pockets.
Miss Barton had just returned from her arduous labor on behalf of the
flood sufferers on the Ohio and Mississippi in the summer of 1884,
when Secretary of State Frelinghuysen appointed her one of the three
delegates to the International Conference at Geneva. Her associates
were her friends Judge Joseph Sheldon, of Connecticut, and Mr. A. S.
Sullivan, vice-president of the American Red Cross.
Miss Barton was so wearied with her labors in connection with the flood
sufferers that she hesitated about accepting her appointment. To her
great joy and to that of Dr. Hubbell, who accompanied her, the voyage
proved an excellent tonic. There was not an unpleasant day, and Miss
Barton was not ill an hour and did not miss a meal. Toward the close
of the voyage she was called upon to address the passengers, who
greeted her with great interest and listened to her with marked and
reverent attention. She reached Liverpool on August 26, 1884, and had a
happy and prosperous journey to Geneva where the Congress convened in
December.
Four hundred distinguished delegates and representatives of the
signatory powers to the treaty assembled at Geneva. There were titled
rulers, distinguished representatives of nobility, eminent surgeons,
noted scientists, and philanthropists whose names were known around the
world.
It is not too much to say that Clara Barton was the most noted delegate
to that convention and the recipient of its highest honors. There was
not one among the four hundred delegates who did not know that it was
she who brought the United States, last of all the great nations, to
occupy a place in that gathering. Popular interest centered about her;
she was pointed out and sought out as the most celebrated delegate to
the congress. Not all of her associates were strangers to her; chief
among the royal persons present to claim the honor of her acquaintance
and introduce her as their friend were the Grand Duke of Baden, the
Grand Duchess, and her imperial father, the Emperor of Germany.
It was the direct influence of Miss Barton which caused the
introduction of what is known as the “America Amendment.” This
amendment was to the effect--
That the Red Cross Society engage in time of peace in humanitarian
work analogous to the duties devolving upon them in periods of war,
such as taking care of the sick and rendering relief in extraordinary
calamities where, as in war, prompt and organized relief is demanded.
The adoption of this resolution was a high compliment to Clara Barton.
She brought to the congress not only the prestige of America’s
accession to the treaty, but a new and notable enlargement of the
sphere of Red Cross activity which she had invented, tested, and found
practicable in America, and worthy of recommendation to all the world.
At Geneva she was joined by Antoinette Margot, whom she sent for as
a companion and interpreter. For, though Clara Barton was fairly at
home in conversation in French, she was glad of assistance at times.
Antoinette had written her in the years of their separation. Her own
life had been none too happy, and she had passed through a religious
crisis that led her, though born a Protestant, into the Roman Catholic
Church, and later into a cloister. Even this change she credited to
Clara Barton! This amused Clara, but Antoinette said that but for Clara
she would have remained “a crushed-down little unhappy baby in my
father’s house”; Clara had given her courage and strength to face great
questions and decide them:
Dear, dear Miss Barton [she wrote]: Never, never I shall forget what
I owe to you. I owe you even my perfect actual happiness of being
a Catholic, for, without your strong teaching, and your nerving of
my heart, I could never have dared to take the step of following my
convictions, when I had convictions to follow.
Clara’s comment was:
Poor, simple child! It is all for the best, I think. Hers is one of
those unsteady, unbalanced minds that must be controlled. She has no
mastery over herself, and nothing but a priest and a confessional can
make her happy.
Antoinette poured out her impulsive love in extravagant protestations
of devotion. She wanted to see Miss Barton, to kiss the feet of the
woman who had done so much for her, and who stood in the mind of
Antoinette as the realization of the noblest ideal of womanhood.
We owe to this impulsive girl, who later entered a convent, a really
fine description of Clara Barton as she stood among the representatives
of all the nations that were joined in the league of the Red Cross at
Geneva:
The Government of the United States has done itself no greater credit
than in selecting Clara Barton to represent it among the nations
abroad. During the last week I have looked on as she has sat day by
day in one of the greatest and grandest assemblies of men that could
be gathered--men representing the highest rank among the civilized
nations of the earth; men of thought, of wisdom, of power, called
together from all over the world to deliberate on great questions, of
nautical import, military power, the neutrality of nations, humanity
in war, wisdom in peace. In the midst of this assembly of gray-haired
men, glittering with military decorations, with national honors, won
and conferred, sat this one woman--calm, thoughtful, self-possessed,
recognized and acknowledged as possessing every right and privilege
belonging to any member of the conference; not merely permitted to be
there, but there by the sovereign right of nations; not merely allowed
to sit there by the courtesy due to a lady, but by the right due to a
nation’s representative; her vote not merely accepted as a matter of
form, but expected and watched for; grave questions referred to her
as the representative of a great nation, and all deference paid to
her judgment: her demeanor so unobtrusive, her actions so wise, that
it could not otherwise than reflect merited credit upon her and her
country.
But the crowning recognition of her philanthropic labors at home and
abroad was given when one of the Italian delegates, springing upon the
platform, proposed to the assemblage to vote, by acclamation, that
“_Mademoiselle Barton bien mérite de l’humanité_”.
Even Miss Barton was moved from her usual composure by the thunders
of applause. I do not know whether you in America are familiar with
the peculiar significance of that phrase. It is an expression of the
highest approbation, honor, and esteem that the French language can
convey. It is probable that Miss Barton is the first woman in the
world who has ever received such a tribute.
After her return from Geneva, Miss Barton made a journey to California,
in 1886, returning by way of Charleston, South Carolina, where she had
a share in the relief of that city after the earthquake.
In September, 1887, occurred another international congress of the Red
Cross. This was held in Germany, at Carlsruhe, the ducal capital of
Alsace and home of the Grand Duchess Louise. Here she met her friends,
the Grand Duke and Duchess of Baden and the Emperor of Germany, and
besides these the Empress Augusta, Bismarck, and von Moltke. Her honors
here were scarcely less brilliant than they had been at Geneva, and her
personal joys were more, for she was near the scenes of her labors in
the Franco-Prussian War. There she was the guest of royalty; crowned
heads bowed respectfully to her. From Baden Baden she wrote a letter
home just after the close of the congress:
BADEN BADEN, GERMANY, Oct. 28, 1887
The International Red Cross Conference has closed. Most of the
delegates have left Carlsruhe, unless, like ourselves, remaining
for after-work. The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess, with their Court,
have retired to Baden Baden for the customary birthday festivities
of Her Majesty the Empress, and the Emperor and his suite would, as
also customary, make his yearly visit in honor of the occasion, thus
making that lovely and historic old town for the moment, the center of
interest for the Empire.
Dr. H. and myself were at breakfast when the hotel porter laid a
telegraphic dispatch on my plate. It will be remembered, at least
by personal friends, that three years ago, while in attendance at a
similar international conference, the honored pleasure of a meeting
with His Majesty the Emperor of Germany had been given me. This
dispatch informed me that a like honor again awaited my presence in
Baden Baden. Trunks were packed, adieus made, and the midday train of
the following day took us in time for the appointed hour. Whoever has
visited the interior of the “New Castle,” the Baden Baden palace of
the Grand Duke, and been shown through its tasteful apartments, rich
in elegance, tradition, and history, will require no further reminder
of the _place_ where the interview would be given.
This was, as well, the birthday of the Crown Prince; and in tender
paternal sympathy, for the painful affliction resting upon a life so
treasured, and for the great anxiety of the German people, His Majesty
the Emperor would pass a portion of the day with the beloved daughter
and sister, the Grand Duchess, at the castle; and in honoring memory
of the occasion, its halls were thronged with visitors who came to
manifest both respect and sympathy.
At half-past one o’clock we were ushered in at the great castle
doors, by their attendants in livery of “scarlet and gold,” the
national colors of Baden; our damp wraps removed--for it was a
pouring rain--and after a half-hour sitting by a cheerful fire, among
pictures which quite called one out of personal consciousness, we were
escorted to the grand reception and drawing room, to the center of a
magnificent apartment with no occupant but ourselves. By another door
one saw the Emperor surrounded by guests, who paid formal respects.
Scores of visitors with coachmen in richest livery had entered while
we waited and registered titled names on the open pages.
At length His Majesty turned from the group about him, and, taking
the arm of the Grand Duchess, entered our apartment. It was difficult
to realize all the ninety years, as he stepped toward us with even,
and steady, if no longer elastic, tread. He approached with cordially
extended hand, and in his excellent French expressed satisfaction for
the meeting. “In the name of humanity, he was glad to meet and welcome
those who labored for it.”
In recalling the earlier days of our acquaintance, Her Royal Highness
the Grand Duchess alluded tenderly to the winter in Strassburg of
’70 and ’71,--which I had passed among its poor and wounded people
after the siege,--and, selecting two from a cluster of decorations
which I had worn in honor of the present occasion, drew the attention
of the Emperor to them. The one he knew; it was his own, presented
upon his seventy-fifth birthday. The other he had never seen. It was
the beautiful decoration of the “German Waffengenossen”--the “Warrior
Brothers in arms” of Milwaukee.
It was puzzlingly familiar, and yet it was not familiar. There was
again the Iron Cross of Germany, but it was on the American shield.
The “American Eagle” surmounting the arms for defense; and the colors
of Germany, the red, white, and black of the Empire uniting the two.
His Majesty gazed upon the expressive emblem, which, with no words,
said so much, and turned inquiringly to the Grand Duchess, as if to
ask, “Does my daughter understand this?”
The explanation was made that it was from His Majesty’s own soldiers,
who, after the “German-Franco War,” had gone to the United States and
become citizens; and this device was designed to express, that, as by
its shield they were American citizens, and true to the land of their
adoption, so by its “Iron Cross,” they were still German; and by the
colors of the native land for which every man had offered his life,
and risked it, they bound the old home to the new; and by the American
Eagle and arms, surmounting all, they were ready to offer their lives
again, if need be, in defense of either land.
The smile of the grand old Emperor, as he listened, had in it the
“Well done” of the benignant father to a dutiful and successful son.
“And they make good citizens?” he would ask. “The best that could be
desired,” I said; “industrious, honest, and prosperous, and, sire,
they are still yours in heart, still true to the Fatherland and its
Emperor.”
“I am glad to hear this; they were good soldiers, and thank God, true
men everywhere,” was the earnest and royal response.
His Majesty continued, speaking of America, its growth, its progress,
its advancement in science and humanity, its adoption and work of the
Red Cross, which meant so much for mankind; and when assured that its
people revered and loved the Emperor of Germany, that his life was
precious to them, and that thousands of prayers went up for him in
that distant land he had never seen, the touching and characteristic
response betrayed the first tremor of the voice the ear had caught in
its kindly tones.
“God be praised for this; for it is all from Him. I am only His. Of
myself I am nothing. He made us what we are. God is over all.”
We stood with bowed heads while those slowly spoken, earnest, holy
words from that most revered of earthly monarchs fell upon us like a
benediction.
At length His Majesty gave a hand to both Dr. H. and myself in a
parting adieu, and walked a few steps away, when turning back, and
again extending a hand, said, in French, “It is probably the last
time,” and in pleasant English, “Good-bye.” And again taking the arm
of the Grand Duchess walked from the room, leaving His Highness the
Grand Duke, one of the kindest and noblest types of manhood, to say
the last words, and close the interview; one of the most impressive
and memorable of a lifetime.
In another letter she told of her parting with the imperial party as
follows:
BADEN BADEN, Oct. 24, 1887
I do not know if I have written since coming here or if my last was
from Carlsruhe. We were here for the “Baden season.” We were invited
by the Duke and Duchess to spend a few weeks at Baden Baden, and of
course all the Court proper would come. The Empress came also; and
the Emperor. They will be here till next Friday, when she goes to
Berlin. The Crown Prince’s health is very poor. The Emperor is better
than ever--bright and cheerful like a young man. We went the other
evening to see him take the train for Berlin. The station reserve
rooms were like a drawing-room and all the Court and royal persons
were in them, to wait the coming of the Emperor, and the town. The
Emperor shook hands with all, saying good-bye, made pretty gifts to
some special persons, then entered the royal train, to ride all night.
The day before yesterday the Empress sent for me to come to her. I
spent a most delightful hour. She had a great deal to say, and made me
a lovely parting gift of a ruby brooch. She insisted that we should
meet again, that I should come to Europe again, and she should see
me. In the P.M. the Grand Duchess sent for us to go to her and we
went and spent two lovely hours. She is charming as ever. Then next
evening (last evening) she sent for us to come to dine. We went and
had a beautiful time. We are to go again to-morrow for a visit. After
the end of this week we go to Strassburg to spend a little time. Shall
most likely go to Berlin and back to Strassburg and down the French
side of the Rhine to Basle, Bern, Geneva, Paris, London, Liverpool,
and then we shall be on our direct way home, but it is some little
time yet before we can go home.
From her journey to attend that international congress at Carlsruhe
she returned in January, 1888, and was quickly called away to Mount
Vernon, Illinois, to care for the sufferers from the tornado. When
she returned from this campaign, she went on a short tour delivering
addresses before influential bodies. She spoke in Montclair, New
Jersey, addressing a State conference of Congregational churches. She
then delivered a lecture in Philadelphia, and was received with every
consideration and honor. Then she went home to Washington and did her
washing. This combination of her work as a world leader and a woman
concerned with domestic affairs is contained in two letters to Mrs.
Stafford, dated May 4 and May 8, 1888:
DEAREST MAMIE:
I had intended to write you just a line on the train to and from
Philadelphia, but one was in the night--the other so full of other
things and the trip so short, I did not get to it.
I can’t think it was a week ago, but so it seems. The first day I
met the Society on its Annual Meeting, and spoke to them a little.
I attended a lunch party before the meeting and a reception after
the opera at the elegant residence of Dr. ----, president of the
Philadelphia Red Cross. That made four things after twelve o’clock.
The next day we had informal meetings with officers of the society
until two o’clock P.M. Then attended a lecture given in the regular
course of the Red Cross Society. Then I gave a lecture. Then home to
dress for the reception to commence at eight.
This was given in Union League Hall, very large, with a band of music.
The dignitaries of the city attended in bodies. The physicians--the
clergymen--the lawyers--the judges--the military army and navy in
uniform. I received and shook hands with all. They left after eleven.
It was a splendid reception. There was still a meeting at the hotel
(The Colonnade) after our return, so we are only in bed by two o’clock
next morning, got a hasty breakfast and hastened to the nine o’clock
train for home; found a large mail, and I was very sleepy. I did sleep
a day or two mainly, and that is what makes the week seem so short, I
think.
Then just think what a washing there was on hand; had never had time
to have a full wash done since our return from Mount Vernon. The
Woman’s Council came directly on that, and an address to write for
it. Then the conference of churches at Montclair, and another address
to write. Then Philadelphia, and another address to write, with all
that came between. The wash went to the wall till this week, when it
was taken up in its turn and put through in one day, and all ironed
yesterday, and clothes put away this very minute, and I haven’t left
the warehouse yet, but am just dropped down at the table in front
of the window, near the store (Gaby will know all about it) while
Alfred brings compost from the stable alongside ready to make up some
flower-beds, etc., and I direct him from the window as I scribble, to
lose no time. It is just as lovely as it can be. Tell Gaby we have
moved the rosebushes all down to the front of the yard, and they
didn’t mind it a bit, and went right on putting out buds, and he will
appreciate how much better chance we had with a washing of twenty
sheets, thirty pillowslips, and other things in proportion, and he
knows how quickly and easily it all went out of the way, and no one
got much tired, and not any sick.
I haven’t time for more than a word. We are making out our foreign
conference accounts for the Government and I have the report to make
out directly and a bill to draw up for Congress this next week and a
host of correspondence, and we are having Alfred make up our garden,
in front of the warehouse, and a pretty little plot it is too. I
found time one night by moonlight to plant lettuce and peppergrass
and radishes, and in two days they come up and are green and pretty.
Yesterday we set out two dozen tomato plants a foot high, and all
of our dozen grapevines are growing; splendid varieties; and when
Alfred makes up the flower-beds to-day, we shall find time to plant
all the seeds I have. I have no bulbs to set, but I have a dozen nice
hollyhocks, fifteen inches high, and all the rosebushes and fleur de
lys in bloom and bud. I can’t get time to hunt over the house for the
little seeds we want to plant. I have nice seeds for kitchen-garden
things from Dansville, but can’t remember where to look for them. I
want a pinch of caraway seed and twelve great sage roots and I want
some catnip seed for Tommy. There is not a stalk of catnip anywhere
about, and I can’t get any seed. Have you some in your catnip herb
bag? I like saffran, and red balm such as Julian raises; I can
get plenty of elegant plants, but the old, old things are hard to
find--and I have not time to look, but should so like to stick a few
out in my nice beds. So here is a place for small contributions. I do
hope Johny is better. Please give him all the love I can send, and
try, all of you, to keep well. We are well, the Saturday work is all
done up, and everything is lovely as spring can make it.
The great “Council of Women” is now over [she writes a little later]:
the meetings are ended, the people are mainly leaving the city, and
this hour my house has had its last visitor. Every day till now my
space, and my table, has been filled to the utmost, and in addition to
my full part in the “Council,” its meeting, committees, and speeches.
The next morning (yesterday) I had to meet a Senate committee at the
Capitol and address them at ten o’clock. Then I go with Mrs. General
Logan and others to the War Department to manage business there. And
now it is eight-thirty the next morning, and at ten I must be at the
War Department with another committee.
Her domestic affairs attended to, she hurried to Boston to deliver
an important address and attend a reception. From there she went to
Wellesley and delivered an address:
My cold entirely left me, and I have had no trouble with it. So much
for right living, and good cool blood. This is the last day of the
convention. I am to speak to-night. I did say a little yesterday,
and they all laughed at me; I wish you could have been here. There
is to be a reception given me next Friday evening. Steve and Lizzie
and Myrtie are invited. I go to the Wellesley College to take tea and
speak to the five hundred girls there on Saturday evening. Some things
I must miss. I get back as soon as I can, so as to go on home. I am so
glad of Sunday; it was a glorious day; so good to see so many together
again. I hope the children are well, that you don’t wrestle too much
with imaginary dirt, and are getting a little real strength.
Besides her tours abroad she had some interesting journeys in her own
country, including a happy camping trip in the Yellowstone Park and the
Cascade Mountains, in the autumn of 1891.
The following winter she spent in the Red Cross Headquarters in what
had been the home of General Grant in Washington. It was a strenuous
winter and an expensive one. She drew upon her personal resources for
fuel for the large building, as well as for rent and the care of the
home. She wrote to Mrs. Bullock:
17 EAST F STREET, WASHINGTON
January 7, 1892
I have wanted to talk with you about coming to see us, but when I
think how cold it is here, and how far from nice and cozy it is, I
feel reluctant to invite you from a small, snug, pretty home, to this
so large and, as it seems to me, less inviting one. If you did not
know it, I should not dare to say you might try it, for we are having
an exceptionally cold, hard winter. The ground is covered with snow,
and the winds have blown an old northeaster these last days, and you
will know this is not an easy house to heat. My expenses have been
so heavy, and receipts so “nothing,” that I cannot afford to take on
more help. I am obliged to have a woman for the work and the house,
a man for the fires and walk,--shoveling snow and all the cold rough
work,--and an amanuensis as my clerk and typewriter. They are drawing
steadily every month; then my rent is high and no one to help share
that, and, besides this, all the world expects me to give it something
if it can get through the door and get a letter to me. I have had to
economize on myself.
In 1893 she was led into an experiment which caused her much anxiety
and proved to have been a mistake. A man and his wife, who had been
associated with her in her work along the Ohio River, expressed a
desire to dedicate, as a thank offering to humanity, a tract of land
more than one square mile in area, or specifically seven hundred
and eighty-two acres, as a home for the American Red Cross. This
offer deeply touched Miss Barton, who accepted it in the following
appreciative letter addressed to the donors:
AMERICAN NATIONAL RED CROSS
WASHINGTON, D.C., March 18, 1893
DEAR SIR: Referring to your letter of February 10th, made public
February 23d, permit me to reply as follows:
In accepting the gift of land, in the State of Indiana, that you so
generously dedicate to the American National Red Cross as “the almoner
of humanity,” and by which you have so touchingly complimented me
personally, allow me to say that the friendship expressed on this
and many other occasions by yourself and wife, and the personal aid
you have both given of time and labor in great calamities, make me
free to accept this gift without reservation, assuring you of my best
endeavors to attain the humane results for which this benefaction is
intended.
This land, as the property of the American National Red Cross, will be
the one piece of neutral ground on the Western Hemisphere protected
by international treaty against the tread of hostile feet. It is a
perpetual sanctuary against invading armies, and will be so respected
and held sacred by the military powers of the world. Forty nations are
pledged to hold all material and stores of the Red Cross, and all its
followers, neutral in war, and free to go and come as their duties
require.
While its business headquarters will remain, as before, at the capital
of the Nation, this gift still forms a realization of the hope so long
cherished--that the National Red Cross may have a place to accumulate
and produce material and stores for sudden emergencies and great
calamities; and if war should come upon our land, which may God avert,
we may be ready to fulfil the mission that our adhesion to the Geneva
Treaty has made binding upon us.
I will direct that monuments be erected defining the boundaries of
this domain, dedicated to eternal peace and humanity, upon which shall
be inscribed the insignia of the Treaty of Geneva, which insignia all
the nations of the earth are bound by solemn covenant to respect.
Not only our own people, but the peoples of all civilized nations will
have published to their knowledge that the American National Red Cross
has a home and a recognized abiding-place through all generations.
For this I have striven for years, mainly misunderstood, often
misinterpreted, and it is through your clear intuition and humane
thought that the clouds have been swept away and my hopes have been
realized.
In accordance with views expressed by you in your letter of gift, I
appoint an adviser, which I insist shall be yourself, leaving you
free to appoint another to work jointly with you, knowing that in the
future, as in the past, your heart will be in the work.
CLARA BARTON
President American National Red Cross
The gift, as it developed, was not without its conditions; the
donors could not quite afford to give it outright, but would sell
it for a sum very much less than its value in consideration of the
philanthropic purposes to which it was to be dedicated. This seemed
not unreasonable, and the deed was accepted subject to the specified
conditions. It seemed to Clara Barton a beautiful achievement; there
was to be one spot on the Western Hemisphere where in case of war the
rights of humanity would be accepted as supreme. Located as it was in
the interior of the country, and removed by rail only a few hours
from the great cities of Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Louisville,
Indianapolis, and Toledo, and surrounded by fertile farms, it could
become in an emergency a vast storehouse of supplies, a great base
hospital for the suffering.
Unfortunately, it did not prove to be all that she had anticipated.
The conditions specified and implied proved to be of such a character
as to render the gift unsuitable for the purposes which she had hoped
to accomplish. The manager into whose hands she committed its care
proved incompetent and, in the end, ungrateful. The gift had to be
relinquished and the money paid toward it was written down as a total
loss.
In 1896 occurred Miss Barton’s experience in Constantinople, where
the Red Cross had its headquarters during her memorable work for the
Armenians. There she visited Scutari, and gave an address on the scene
of Florence Nightingale’s great work. She returned overland through
Vienna, Strassburg, Paris, London, and Liverpool. She left London
October 8, 1896. On her return to Washington she was given a great
banquet attended by some of the most distinguished people in Washington.
The following year, 1897, she was appointed by the President to attend
the International Red Cross Congress in Vienna, Austria.
In 1898 she did her notable work in connection with the
Spanish-American War, and for the next two years was fully occupied
with affairs at home.
In 1902 she went abroad again, this time as a delegate to the
conference held in St. Petersburg, the last of the great conferences
which she attended. This journey has its record in two letters, one
to her niece, Mrs. Ida Barton Riccius, and the other to her nephew,
Stephen E. Barton:
_En route_ FROM ST. PETERSBURG
TO THE GERMAN FRONTIER
June 18, 1902
The conference is ended, Russia has been visited, and we are well, and
well on the way toward home. It has been a most fortunate journey, no
accidents, no illness. Attended a great and harmonious conference,
royally met and cared for, with nothing to be regretted.
We went first to Havre, France, to Paris for a few days, then to
Berlin a few days, then on toward Russia. At the crossing on the
frontier, we were met by a Red Cross escort, and taken on, for
transportation to St. Petersburg, about the 15th of May. Went into
Hôtel de France, where we have remained till yesterday, nearly three
weeks. The conference opened on the 16th with two sittings a day, and
entertainments at evening unless it was necessary to take the day for
some excursion, or visit to some royal entertainment. The conference
lasted about eight days; it was composed of delegates from nearly
fifty nations; subjects of a humanitarian character were discussed
as connected with the work of the Red Cross. In Russia everything is
Red Cross, all hospital work, all emergency work, nearly all relief
work, care of children, orphans, foundlings. The women are educated
to do this work. They enter the schools in the hospitals at eighteen
to twenty, serve one year on probation, two as novices, then they
may receive and wear the Red Cross and be nurses, at a small sum in
money per month, board, clothes, care if sick,--a good home as long
as they live. When too old, or no longer able to work, they have
pensions given them and may remain _in_ the hospital and be cared for
always if they choose, or if they have relatives and _want_ to live
with them they can have their pensions and go to them, and _return_
always if they like. The hospital is _always_ their home, if they want
it, or they may marry if they choose; then they leave. They _seemed_
so happy, looked so healthy; many of them are orphan girls who had
no home; nowhere else _to_ be. They are not Catholic, but of the
Protestant Church of Russia, though _I_ see little difference between
it and the Catholic. The churches are magnificent,--such wealth of
ornamentation. The bishops seem like Catholic priests. The people are
very devout, but still very lively, and _kind_; they seem to me to be
the kindest people I ever saw. All the royal persons look kind; they
have good faces; but the kindest face of all is that of the Czar. He
is young, handsome, looks like a mature college graduate. The Czarina
is also handsome; she was the granddaughter of Queen Victoria; they
have four children, are very fond of them, and of _each other_.
We went on an excursion to Moscow, saw the city Napoleon went to
capture, and which he found trouble in getting out of. We went to the
Kremlin where he stayed; the rooms he lived in the few days while the
city was burning, and the ways by which he retreated. We visited the
Grand Duke, who is the Governor-General of Moscow, and whose wife
is sister of the Empress, another granddaughter of Victoria, the
daughter of Alice of Hesse, who died many years ago of diphtheria
while nursing three children through it. The Grand Duchess is said
to be the handsomest woman in Russia. I think that may be true, and
after I returned to Petersburg she _sent me her picture_--beautiful!!
Everybody was so kind to us all, but I felt they were especially kind
to me. I never saw such treatment of guests; they wouldn’t _let_ you
spend money. Carriages were at the disposal of all the delegates, all
places of amusement free, guides provided; lunches, like dinners,
provided each day at the conference, a hundred persons fed somewhere,
two or three times a day, and _such_ feeding!! Very many of the
delegates were old friends of mine. I had met them in five other
conferences; they were so genial and attentive.
As I am going to ask you to let Ada and Mamie read this, and _Harold_,
too, I must tell you about the horses, the finest I have ever seen.
They have two choice kinds, the “black Orlorf,” and the dapple gray,
good size, carriage horses, and they go like the wind. The Orlorf
was brought into St. Petersburg (perhaps into Russia as well) by
Count Orlorf a good many years ago. The males are not changed, kept
as stallions in full strength and spirit, and, when past active or
first-class service, are kept for breeding purposes. They are not
allowed to be _sold_ out of Russia, it is said. They weigh from one
thousand to fourteen hundred pounds, are jet black, have glossy hair,
high arching necks, step as proud as war-horses, with full even
tails, trimmed at the bottom to keep them from touching the ground.
The Russian harness is not half the weight of ours, and much less of
it; the shafts are kept away from the body, and _all_ horses are round
and fat. I have not seen a poor horse in Russia. The grays are much
like the black, only dappled, as if painted, so dark, and distinct
dapples, with also the heavy beautiful tails. I asked to go through
the Royal stalls--the Czar has eight hundred horses in his stud; a
part are in Peterhof, ten miles away. The horses were in stalls about
two thirds as wide, big stalls as Baba’s, say six to seven feet,
with wooden floors, a narrow crack running the whole length to keep
them dry, half a foot of clean dry straw in each, a little manger
for grain, a little wire rack for hay, a good blanket on each, and
you have the entire outfit of this beautiful “stud of Royal horses.”
They were gentle and didn’t mind a strange hand on them, and the
gentlemanly uniformed groom encouraged it, and smiled at their quiet,
good behaviour. Some of the carriages are for two, some four, and
some eight horses. The gilded and gemmed carriages are especially for
Coronation occasions, some of them one hundred and fifty years old,
bright and beautiful as yesterday. Ordinarily the Royal people ride in
common carriages and drive a great deal, to hospitals, to all houses
of charity, schools, orphanages, and churches. They are the patrons of
all these, and give great sums to them.
The Empress has schools of hundreds of young women and young ladies
in St. Petersburg studying from the lowest to the highest branches,
art and literature, which she visits every week; they are fitting
themselves, not alone for society, but to go all over Russia to teach.
The Russians have all the societies we have, “Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals,” which they don’t seem to need as much as we do. I might
except temperance societies, which they do not have, and probably need
about _as_ much as we, only the Russian doesn’t fight and quarrel when
he gets drunk; he goes to sleep.
Have I told you that there is no real night in northern Russia at this
season of the year? Ask Saidee to trace it on her atlas and she will
find that St. Petersburg is in the _same_ latitude of the southern
ends of Alaska and Greenland, consequently they have long days and
short nights in summer, and long nights and short days in winter; it
being summer now, we have no real night. The twilight lasted till
eleven-thirty sure, and the sun rose at two-thirty. I went to bed by
daylight, either at one end or the other of the day. I wrote without
a lamp at eleven o’clock at night. The people are in the streets all
night, but there is no disturbance, no one is hurt or attacked. The
police are always on duty, not in the saloons, waiting to be called
to some disturbance, but in the middle of the street, to _see that
there is no disturbance_, and there is none; no people are killed in
dark alleys here. The would-be killer would be killed first, unless he
threw a bomb, and then he would be killed after.
This is an unmercifully long letter. I wish you would let it go to Ada
and Mamie. If I had a typewriter I would duplicate it, and send to
each, but I have none, and write all by hand. I will take this on to
Berlin to post, where we shall arrive at ten to-morrow morning, for a
few days’ stay.
With greatest love to all,
Your always loving
CLARA
This is my “howdy” to all the loved ones, from Europe.
HÔTEL SCRIBE, RUE SCRIBE
PARIS, July 26, 1902
MY DEAR STEVE:
This is Saturday, and I sail to-morrow. I did not intend to write you
in time for you to receive it, and perhaps feel that you must fly
around to meet me in New York. I only wanted to tell you _that_--and
_when_ I would sail so you could calculate in what country I should
most likely be. I go to Boulogne to-morrow, Sunday morning, July 27th,
to catch the S.S. _Pennsylvania_ as she steams on for New York. I
expect to find Mr. Tillinghast on board, as he has arranged to finish
his month’s tour of southern Europe in time to take the _Pennsylvania_
at Hamburg. Boulogne is her last point of land, and any one knowing me
would conclude I would stick to the _land_ as long as possible.
We had a glorious conference, and were gloriously received, no
kindness or courtesy, and sometimes it seemed as if no luxury, was
omitted. There were no errors, and perfect harmony prevailed. We went
on an excursion to Moscow for three days, returned to Petersburg,
finished all up, did nothing carelessly, nor in too great haste;
wrote my report of the conference, some twenty pages, sent it to
President Roosevelt; made out all my accounts with the Government
ready to present on my return; and when all was finished, left with
Mr. Tillinghast, who took the place of secretary, for Berlin; remained
a week, when Mr. Tillinghast started on his journey of sight-seeing.
The other delegates had long gone, and I made for Carlsruhe for a
stay of two weeks. My time was divided between the Grand Duchess and
Princess Salm Salm, who, at present, resides there. The Salm Salm
was one of the old high houses of Germany, and greatly venerated for
patriotic and noble qualities. The husband of the Princess you will
remember historically, perhaps. Prince Felix left Germany to fight in
_our_ war; raised a regiment, became its colonel, till the close, then
followed Maximilian to Mexico, stayed by him, with the Princess, till
he was shot, then returned to Germany to his estates at Gravelotte.
Not a bad record!
I remained at Carlsruhe till the “close of the Court Season,” was
present by invitation at the closing of the Parliament, heard the
Grand Duke deliver his splendid address, spent the evening after
socially, and alone, with the Grand Duke and Duchess, till eleven
o’clock. At two they started for the _mountains_, the Princess two
days later; and between them I slipped off to Strassburg, then to
Geneva, then _via_ Strassburg again to Paris, to wait for my steamer.
The _Pennsylvania_ is not a quick but is a steady-going sailer, and
will, D.V., get us over in about eight days, when I will quietly slip
down home, as if I had never been away. No mistakes have been made, no
bad luck, not a day’s illness of any one that I know of. Well enough
managed, it seems to me, and fortunately ended, if it does end well
the rest of the way.
I didn’t intend to write so much. What you haven’t time to read you
can put in your pocket. Love to all.