In the little Maryland village of Glen Echo, a frail, gentle old lady was taking leave of this world one April day, in the year 1912. She was greatly beloved and many friends from every state in the Union sent her words of comfort and cheer. They praised her noble work and called her “The Guardian Angel” of the suffering, but the little old lady looked into the faces of those about her and said, “I know of nothing remarkable that I have done.”

She was Clara Barton, the woman who brought the Red Cross to our country; but, being accustomed to working always for others, her labors did not seem great or unusual to her. Today we know she is one of the heroines of the world, for she believed in the brotherhood of man, and her aim was to relieve suffering humanity, irrespective of nationality or creed.

Her childhood was a happy, joyous one spent in the little village of North Oxford, Massachusetts. She was the youngest child of a large family, and her brothers and sisters were very proud of her because she learned so rapidly and because she was never afraid of anything. She would follow her oldest brother about the house with a slate, begging him to give her hard sums to do. Out of doors she was eager for adventure; her brother David often said, “Clara is never afraid, she can ride any colt on the farm,” and often he would throw her on the bare back of a young horse and cry, “Hold fast to the mane,” and away she would gallop over the fields.

Winter evenings the family would gather about the great fireplace in the living room and listen to the father tell of his experiences on the battle fields of the Revolutionary War. He had been a soldier under the dashing General Anthony Wayne, called “Mad Anthony” Wayne, because of his reckless daring. Clara was thrilled by these stories of army life, and never tired of hearing her father recount them.

When Clara was eleven years of age, her brother David had a terrible fall, and for more than two years he was a helpless invalid. At once she became his nurse and he relied upon her for all manner of service, preferring her to his older sister or even his mother. “Clara is a born nurse,” said the family, as they saw the care she was giving the boy, and indeed she was. It was a joy to her to wait upon the sick, and she considered it no hardship to sacrifice herself.

When David was well, Clara went to school and prepared herself to teach. Her scholars found her an able teacher and liked her ways of instructing them. We know this to be true, because when she opened her first school she had only six pupils, but her fame spread so rapidly that when June came six hundred children had entered her classes and were much disappointed when they found she could not teach them all but had to have assistant teachers.

The strain of planning for so many pupils was too heavy for her, so she gave up teaching and took a position in the pension office at Washington. She was there at the beginning of the great war between the North and South, and at once felt it to be her duty to leave her work and minister to the wounded soldiers.

At first she busied herself in the hospitals at Washington, but she longed to go to the front and help on the battle fields. She told her father of her strong desire, and he said to her, “Go, if you feel it your duty to go! I know what soldiers are, and I know that every true soldier will respect you and your errand.”

At last our government gave her permission, and she went to the front as fearless as any officer in the army. Amid the rain of shot and shell she went about on errands of mercy. Then there was no organized relief for the soldiers, no Red Cross, no Y. M. C. A., no help of any kind except what kind persons here and there over the country tried to give. This was very little, when compared to the vast amount of suffering, but Clara Barton managed to gather supplies and money so that she was able to give assistance to both the boys in blue and the boys in gray. She saved many lives, she wrote countless letters home for wounded soldiers, and she stood alone by the death-bed of many a brave fellow, speaking words of comfort and cheer. Whenever anyone suggested that she was working beyond her strength, she would say, “It is my duty,” and go on regardless of her personal 69 welfare. One of her best friends, Miss Lucy Larcom, wrote of her as follows:

“We may catch a glimpse of her at Chantilly in the darkness of the rainy midnight, bending over a dying boy who took her supporting arm and soothing voice for his sister’s––or falling into a brief sleep on the wet ground in her tent, almost under the feet of flying cavalry; or riding in one of her trains of army-wagons towards another field, subduing by the way a band of mutinous teamsters into her firm friends and allies; or at the terrible battle at Antietam, where the regular army supplies did not arrive till three days afterward, furnishing from her wagons cordials and bandages for the wounded, making gruel for the fainting men from the meal in which her medicines had been packed, extracting with her own hand a bullet from the cheek of a wounded soldier, tending the fallen all day, with her throat parched and her face blackened by sulphurous smoke, and at night, when the surgeons were dismayed at finding themselves left with only one half-burnt candle, amid thousands of bleeding, dying men, illuming the field with candles and lanterns her forethought had supplied. No wonder they called her ‘The Angel of the Battle Field’.”

After the war, President Lincoln asked her to search for the thousands of men who were missing. She at once visited the prisons, helped the prisoners to regain their health, and get in touch with their families. Besides this, she searched the National Cemeteries and had grave 70 stones put over many of the graves telling who were buried there. This work took four years, and at the end of it she was so broken in health that she went abroad for a long rest.

While she was in Switzerland she heard first of the Red Cross Society and attended a meeting called to establish an International Society. Twenty-four nations were represented at the meeting, but the United States was not among that number. For some years it refused to join. Miss Barton devoted herself to showing our government that in joining the International Red Cross we would not be entangling ourselves in European affairs but would be working for the good of all men. At last, in 1887, she won her victory, and the United States signed the agreement of the Red Cross Society. This is called the Treaty of Geneva.

When the first meeting was held in Geneva, Switzerland, there were persons present who found fault with the plan. They said the world should do away with warfare instead of caring for those it injured. But the Swiss President said it would take a long time for the world to learn to do without warfare. He believed the Red Cross would help to bring about the era of peace by caring for the afflicted and relieving the horror of war. The terrible struggle in Europe is showing us the truth of his words, for, when we hear about the frightful happenings, all the glory and grandeur of warfare fade away.

A man who sees far into the future, has written, “Some day the Red Cross will triumph over the cannon. The future belongs to all helpful powers, however humble, for two allies are theirs, suffering humanity and merciful God.”

Clara Barton, who also could look beyond her day, saw another use for the Red Cross besides war service. She said: “It need not apply to the battle field alone, but we should help all those who need our help.” So the American Red Cross passed an amendment to the effect that its work should apply to all suffering from fires, floods, famine, earthquake, and other forms of disaster. This amendment was finally adopted by all nations.

At the time of the Spanish War, Miss Barton was seventy years old, but she went to Cuba and did heroic work. When the Galveston flood occurred she was eighty, but she went to the stricken community and helped in every way. After giving up her active work, she retired to Glen Echo and spent the remainder of her days quietly, always interested in the great cause to which she had given her life.

We know what the American Red Cross does for our soldiers, and whenever we see its emblem we should think of Clara Barton, as a “Noble type of good, heroic womanhood; one who was kind, humane, and helpful to all peoples, one who longed for the time when suffering and horror should pass away.”