American people will recognize the Red Cross as one of the wisest
and best systems of philanthropic work in modern times. Its mission
is not accomplished when it has carried the generous offerings of
the people to their brethren who have met with sudden calamity. It
does not stop with the alleviation of bodily suffering and the
clothing of the destitute--blessed as that work is, when wisely
done, so as not to break down the manly spirit of self-help. The Red
Cross has become a grand educator, embodying the best principles of
social science, and that true spirit of charity which counts it a
sacred privilege to serve one's fellowmen in time of trouble. The
supplying of material wants--of food, raiment and shelter is only a
small part of its ministry. In its work among suffering humanity,
when fire or flood or pestilence has caused widespread desolation,
the Red Cross seeks to carry to people's hearts that message which
speaks of a universal brotherhood. It is all the time and everywhere
sowing the seed of brotherly kindness and goodwill, which is
destined in time to yield the fruits of world-wide peace. Once let
the love of doing good unto others become deeply rooted and
practiced as an international custom, and arsenals and ironclad
navies will give way to the spirit of equity. War will cease as a
relic of barbarism, and peace will shed its benedictions over all
nations.
From the Evansville _Journal_ of April 3, the following:
The president of the Red Cross left for St. Louis last night, where
she will take charge of a steamer which has been chartered under her
direction for relief service in the lower Mississippi.... The
mission of the Red Cross, which has done such wonderful and
effective work in the Ohio valley, is not yet completed. The lower
Mississippi cries for aid. The destruction of property below the
mouth of the Ohio is, if possible, greater than was experienced on
the Ohio. Life has not been in such desperate peril, but property
has been swept away by oceans of water, and the landowner, with corn
and cotton fields, has been reduced to pauperism.... This year the
overflow has been of such a character that neither crop, mortgage,
nor advance are safe, and the renter and half-share farmer must
suffer. The Red Cross comes to the rescue. Miss Barton will be
accompanied by several ladies from this city and will be joined by
many gentlemen and ladies from St. Louis.
From the St. Louis _Democrat_, April 4, the following:
Miss Clara Barton arrived at the "Southern" yesterday morning. Miss
Barton is accompanied by Mrs. De Bruler and Miss Enola Lee, of
Evansville, Ind., Dr. J. B. Hubbell, field agent, and Mr. John Hitz,
of Washington, D.C. The members of the party were busily engaged
yesterday in superintending the loading of the steamer "Mattie
Bell," which leaves for the inundated districts of the lower
Mississippi this morning. Miss Octavia Dix, secretary of the St.
Louis branch of the Red Cross, will accompany the expedition.
The brave men of the Fifth Corps in the Cuban War of 1898, endured
hunger and thirst and other conditions better remembered than described.
Some of them partook of the gracious offerings of hot gruel, malted
milk, boiled rice, apple wine, and prune cordial at the hands of Mrs.
Dr. Gardner. It will perhaps interest them to know that she is the same
who, as Miss Enola Lee, was one of the company of the "Mattie Bell" in
1884.
Some of the men of the War of 1861 may remember the officer who had
charge of the Commissary Department at Washington. I shall never forget
the man who, despite all rank and position, stood many an hour of many a
day beside my army wagons loading at his headquarters, and who wisely
directed the selection of material best suited to and most needed at the
proposed terminus of the dark and weary journey I was about to
undertake--it was then Colonel, now General Beckwith of the regular
army. He was in 1884, holding the position of Commissary at St. Louis.
In the same old time spirit and in the old time way he came upon the
deck of our little steamer, and directed the placing of the supplies of
the "Mattie Bell." One will never forget the terror depicted on his fine
face when he saw the bales of hay taken on board. "Great heavens, you
are not going to risk that! Think of it--you in the middle of that
great, rushing river, no land in sight, and your ship on fire!" Still,
the risk was taken, and both the ship and the stock were saved.
A few hours previous to the sailing of the "Mattie Bell" from St. Louis
a stranger came on board and asked to be permitted to go with us. There
was nothing very remarkable in his appearance, either for or against;
but on general principles we objected to taking on a stranger without
some good reason for it. His quiet persistence, however, won, and
perhaps through lack of active measures on the part of some one he went.
He was a silent man--walked by himself, or stood alone on some
unfrequented corner of the deck. As we got lower down and more
tributaries were pouring their contributions into the mighty volume that
rolled and seethed about and beneath us, the danger became more
imminent. Running after dark was out of the question, and timely orders
were given one afternoon to tie up for the night; but our captain,
anxious to make a headland a few miles further on, begged permission to
run a little later, sure he could reach it before dark.
His request was rather reluctantly granted, and as we steamed on a fog
and mist came up and night set in with us still afloat. In less than a
half hour the stranger rushed to me with: "We are in a crevasse! We must
pull out or we are lost! I have warned the engineer and captain." The
forward rush of the boat ceased; she stood still, pulled first one way
then the other, shivered and struggled amid the shrieks of the reversed
engine, while we waited, thoroughly aware of the situation and the doom
awaiting us all, depending on the power and strength of one mute body of
steel and one firm man at the helm. At length the struggling ceased; the
engines had triumphed over the current. We commenced to move slowly
backward, and with a grateful awe in our hearts that no words could
express we found a place of safety for the night.
Daylight revealed to us a crevasse opened the day before where the river
had broken through to a width of thirty rods, with the water pouring
down a depth of twelve or fifteen feet in a perfect torrent into the
current below, and rolling off in a self-made track to some other stream
or to the Gulf of Mexico.
I have no way of accounting for this incident, but the reader will
perhaps not be "too hard" on me, if I say with the father of "Little
Breeches," "I have believed in God and the angels ever since one night
last spring."
DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI.
Down the Mississippi all was changed. Two worlds could scarcely differ
more. The ofttimes shoreless waste of waters; the roaring crevasse
through the broken levees; the anxious ebony faces and the hungry
animals that "looked up and were not fed," among whom and which we
floated, could not fail to carry our thoughts back at times to the
history of the Deluge and the Ark. The simile, however, had this
important difference; we were by no means so good as to be preserved,
nor they so bad as to be destroyed.
Any bare description of this voyage constitutes only the woody framework
of the structure. You will readily imagine that, when it should be
clothed with its ever recurring incidents it would become a very
different edifice. Never a day that did not bring us incidents to be
remembered, sometimes sad and touching, sometimes laughable or
ridiculous.
The rough, tattered and uncouth garb of the Ohio River farmer and
woodsman was offset by his quick wit and sterling sense, and the rude
dialect of the Southern negro was buried out of sight by his simple
faith. But the most touching of all was the honest gratitude which
poured out on every side.
These people adopted the Red Cross and those who bore it, and we, in
turn, have held to them. We selected helpers from among them, banded
them together, gave them responsibility and thus made them mutual helps
to each other and to us as well, in case of subsequent disaster.
One day as we were near the left bank of the river we saw a small herd
of cattle wading out far into the water for what they could reach. A few
cabins stood back of them. Steaming as near as we could we made fast to
the body of a small fig tree and called the negroes, men and women, to
us in their skiff.
It proved to be a little neighborhood of negroes with no white "boss,"
as they say, but had their own mules and cows and were farming
independently. But the food and feed were gone. The government boats had
passed without seeing them, and no help had come to them. Their mules
and cows were starving; they had no one to apply to. They had their
little church; and their elder, a good, honest-faced man, who led them
onto the boat, told the story of their sufferings and danger. We
selected two men and two women, formed them into a committee of
distribution and wrote out formal directions and authority for them. But
before presenting it to them to sign, I asked them seriously if we left
these supplies with them if they thought they could share them honestly
with each other and not quarrel over them.
They were silent a moment. Then the tallest of the women rose up, and
with commanding gesture said: "Miss, dese tings is from de Lord; dey is
not from you, caze you is from Him. He sent you to bring dem. We would
not dare to quarrel ober dem things; we would not dare not to be honest
wid 'em."
I presented the paper with no further pledge. It was signed with one
name and three marks. The supplies were put off on the only little spot
of land that could be reached. The negroes left the boat and stood
beside the pile, which seemed a little mountain in the level space of
waters. We raised steam and prepared to put off, expecting as we did so
some demonstration, some shout of farewell from our newfound friends on
shore and held our handkerchiefs ready to wave in reply--not a
sound--and as we "rounded to" and looked back, the entire group had
knelt beside the bags of grain and food and not a head or hand was
raised to bid us speed. A Greater than we had possessed them, and in
tearful silence we bowed our heads as well and went our way.
After the first rush of danger was over and repairs commenced among the
business men, it was not always easy to find faithful willing agents to
distribute supplies among those who had nothing left to repair but their
stomachs, and no material for this.
At Point Coupee the Mississippi sends out a false branch of thirty miles
in length, forming an island, and again joining the main river at
Hermitage. These are known as False River and Island. The government
boats had not entered False River, and there was great want among both
people and cattle.
All the way down we were besought to hold something back for this point.
At Hermitage we found the one business man, owner of the boat which
plied the thirty miles of river, its warehouse and all. He, of course,
was the only man who could take charge of and distribute relief around
the island; and Captain Trudeau was sought. He was a young, active man,
full of business, just pulling out of his own disaster, and did not know
how to attend to it. "Guessed the trouble was most over up there; hadn't
heard much about it lately." We knew better and felt discouraged that
persons could not be found of sufficient humanity to distribute relief
when brought to them.
I was sitting heart sore and perplexed in my stateroom trying to think
out a way when two rather young women of prepossessing appearance
entered with a bouquet of early flowers for me, introducing themselves
as Mrs. and Miss Trudeau, wife and sister of the captain. I scarcely
felt gracious, but those fair womanly faces were strong to win, and I
entered into conversation asking Mrs. Trudeau what she thought of the
condition of the people of the island. Her face grew sad as she said in
touching tones, "Indeed, I cannot say, Miss Barton; my husband's boat
runs around twice a week and I tried to go on it for a while, but the
sight of such destitution and those starving cattle, mules, cows, horses
and sheep were beyond my endurance. I had nothing to give them, and I
could not see it, and so left off going."
"Would you ladies take the agency of the Red Cross to deliver supplies
to these people?"
I shall not forget the appropriate and womanly manner in which this
delicate lady received the abrupt proposition--no hesitation, no
surprise, no self-depreciation, no simpering, but the straightforward
reply, "We would, most willingly and gladly, and do our best. Our
warehouse could store them, our boat take and we distribute them." The
customary official document was at once drawn up and signed.
An hour later the busy captain rushed in to see how much was really
expected of him.
"Captain," I said, "I have found agents to distribute our relief, and
very satisfactorily, I think, and shall be able to release you from all
responsibility." His fine face fell; he had not expected this and in
spite of all did not relish being quite relieved from duty. I went on:
"You will have some share in it, captain. For instance, you will supply
storage in your warehouse; your boat will take supplies on any day when
demanded. Your men will handle and load all material. You will, in
short, provide all accommodations, do all the work, meet all the cost,
obey orders implicitly, but have none of the credit! Mrs. and Miss
Trudeau are my agents."
The good fellow fairly threw up his hat. "Good! That's just what I'm
used to. It shall be done." And it was done; but how well it was done I
could not describe to you--not only wisely and well, but elegantly.
The captain's warehouse had little empty space after our cargo of
supplies had gone into it The next day but one would be the day
appointed for Governor McEnnery, of Louisiana, to make at Point Coupee
his re-election speech, which would call all the people of the island
who could reach it to that point to see and hear the popular governor.
The little steamer "Governor Wiltz" was laden with supplies, and under
direction of Madame Trudeau proceeded to Point Coupee in order to meet
the people, learn the needs, and inform everyone that supplies and
relief were at hand. The gallant governor addressed the crowd from the
deck of the "Governor Wiltz" under the Red Cross flag, and took passage
on her down the river.
We resupplied these agents on our return. We did this all the way among
both white and black. And from that time the Red Cross has had faithful,
willing agents along all the uncertain track of the lower Mississippi.
Months later, in January, 1885, when a sea voyage, foreign travel, the
cares of an international conference of military men, the splendor of
foreign courts, much of weariness and illness had passed between, and I
had thought all those little days of river work gone from memory, I
found myself in the upper gallery of the New Orleans Exposition, and
stepping in at a restaurant at the end of the hall was met by Colonel
Lewis, the noted colored caterer of the South. He had been on the relief
committee of New Orleans appointed to meet our steamer at the time of
our visit in May.
He came with cordial recognition, seated me and was telling me of his
success in the restaurant when all his waiters, men and women, seemed to
forget their work and stood gazing at us. The colonel smiled and said,
"They have caught sight of the Red Cross brooch at your neck and
recognize you by it. They will come to themselves in a few minutes."
Next day I went in again for my lunch, when Colonel Lewis brought to me
a little, thin, white-haired mulatto man of seventy-three years, but
still able to take charge of and direct the help at the tables, saying,
"This, Miss Barton, is Uncle Amos, whom I promised yesterday to
introduce to you when you came again. Uncle Amos is my most true and
faithful man." I reached out for the withered, hard, dark bony hand he
gave me as he said: "Yes, Miss Barton, I wants to see and speak to you,
to tell you in de name of our people how grateful dey is for what your
society has done for dem. Dat is never forgot. You come to us when we
had nothing. You saved what was never saved befo' in a flood, our
cattle, so dey could go on and help derselves to raise something to eat.
Dey has all heard of it; all talk about it in de churches and de
meetings. Our people is singular in some tings; dey never forgets a
kindness. Dey hab notions. Dey hab a way of nailing up a hoss-shoe ober
de do' for luck. I want to tell you dat in a thousand little cabins all
up and down dis river dey has put up a little Red Cross ober de do' and
every night before dey goes to bed dey names your name and prays God to
bless you and de Red Cross dat He sent to dem in time of trouble and
distress." Uncle Amos looked straight in my face the while. Colonel
Lewis wiped his eyes, and I got away as fast as I could.
It would scarcely be faithful to the subject of this relief if some
mention were not made of the third trip, namely, that of the voyage up
the Ohio after the fall of the waters and the attempted return of the
people to their former homes.
From an editorial of the Evansville _Journal_, May 28, 1884, headed
"Good By Red Cross," we make an extract or two which has reference to
the voyage and its purposes:
The Red Cross, having concluded its labors on the Ohio River below
this point, will start to-day for the upper Ohio and go as far as
Pittsburg, relieving the meritorious cases on the way.... The "Josh
V. Throop," which has been rechartered for this trip, was loaded
last Saturday. A part of the load was distributed between this point
and Cave-in-Rock, and the room made vacant by the lower river
distribution was filled with additional stores yesterday which will
be distributed up the river. The load consists of what the people in
the overflowed country will want and most need. There is clothing in
immense quantities, over a hundred plows, large quantities of rakes,
hoes, scythes, spades, shovels, groceries, flour, meat, meal, corn,
bedsteads, chairs, buckets, tubs, tables, queensware, tinware, pots,
kettles, skillets, etc.
This trip was arranged in general at Cincinnati, when Miss Barton
first came West. At that time her policy took definite shape and it
has never changed. She saw that the government was providing for all
the immediate necessities of the sufferers and looked forward to the
time when the unfortunate people would come almost hopelessly back
to ruined homes--come back to find houses, furniture, tools, food,
everything gone--and although aid would have been extended during
the calamity by the government and benevolent institutions, the
ruined people would have but a poor chance to proceed in the
business of life. This was the anticipated opportunity of the Red
Cross; this was the time Miss Barton foresaw would be pregnant with
possibilities for doing large good, and the event has fully
justified her prophetic view of the situation. The load now on the
"Throop" will not only provide for the house, it will do much for
the farm.
It would be difficult to imagine a voyage more replete with live
interest than this beautiful May passage from Evansville to Pittsburg.
The banks were dotted with the marks of torn and washed-out homes; and
occasionally one found the family, from father and mother to the wee
little ones, gathered about the bare spot that once was home, trying in
vain to find enough of the buried timbers to recommence a framework for
another house, if ever they could build it, with all the hunger and need
for daily food staring them in the face.
Picture, if possible, this scene: A strange ship, with two flags,
steaming up the river; it halts, turns from its course, and draws up to
the nearest landing. Some persons disembark and speak a few minutes
with the family; then a half dozen strong mechanics man a small boat
laden with all material for constructing a one-room house, take it to
the spot and commence putting it up. Directly here is a structure with
floor, roof, doors, windows and walls; the boat returns for furniture.
Within three hours the strange ship sails away leaving a bewildered
family in a new and clean house, with a bed, bedding, table, chairs,
clothing, dishes, candles, a well-made little cooking stove, with
blazing fire, with all the common quota of cooking utensils, meat, meal,
groceries, a plow, rake, axe, hoe, shovel, spade, hammer, hatchet and
nails, etc. We ask few questions, they none; but often it proves that
the little, bare, boyhood feet of that desolated father had once skipped
through the dewy grass of the green hills of New England, the brave old
parent of States, where great riches are slow to come, and famishing
hunger never enters.
Again, referring to the Evansville _Journal_ of May 28 we find the
following:
A band of little folks in Chicago, called the "Busy Bees," were
organized in a plan to extend succor to the suffering and collected
a large box of goods which they sent to Miss Barton, with the
request that it might be put where it would do the most good. She
was some time in finding a place where she could put it with the
greatest satisfaction to the givers and the donees. She found the
opportunity she had been looking for yesterday. On her last voyage a
gentleman at Cave-in-Rock told her that a poor, but worthy, family
was in that vicinity, and on becoming acquainted with the family
Miss Barton gave them some supplies and left fifteen dollars with
the gentleman aforesaid, to either give to the family or spend for
them as he might think best. He concluded that it would be
judiciously expended by the people for whom it was intended and
accordingly turned it over to them. The woman of the family came
some days afterward to the gentleman, bringing with her another
woman who was very destitute, and said: "This is my neighbor, and I
have come to ask you if you think Miss Barton would care if I
divided my fifteen dollars with her." "Most certainly not," was the
reply; and then, out of her penury did this poor woman give. She
retained ten dollars and gave five. Yesterday Miss Barton divided
the contents of the store the "Busy Bees" had gathered among these
two families, consisting of eight and five persons respectively.
When she was delivering the goods to the poor woman who had
generously shared with her neighbor, Miss Barton gave her back her
five dollars, and said: "You have read where it is said, _He that
giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord_, and He has sent it back
already."
On February 11, 1884, Congress, in response to appeals from Ohio,
Kentucky and West Virginia, appropriated $300,000 for the relief of the
people who had lost their homes and other property by the Ohio River
floods. On February 15, the first appropriation having been considered
hardly sufficient to meet the demands, $200,000 more were appropriated
for the same purpose, making $500,000 in all to be expended under the
direction of the War Department. A boat load of supplies was sent down
the river from Pittsburg; two boats left Cincinnati, one going up the
river and the other down; one boat went down the river from Louisville
and a fifth boat was sent down the river from Evansville. Afterward some
additional boats were sent out from other places. Between February 15
and March 15, 536,000 rations were distributed by the government at a
cost of $350,000. The remaining $150,000 were transferred to the
Mississippi flood relief.
In the official report of the relief furnished to the Ohio River flood
sufferers, written by R.P.M. Ames, Assistant Surgeon U.S. Marine
Hospital Service, Evansville, Ind., he speaks as follows of the part
taken by the Red Cross in this work: