THE RED CROSS
IN PEACE AND WAR

Copyright 1898, by Clara Barton

From the President of the United States

In his Message to Congress December 6, 1898.

In recounting the experience of the Red Cross in the Cuban campaign, I have endeavored to tell the story of the events as they succeeded each other, recording simply the facts connected with the work of the War Relief, and refraining from criticism of men and methods. There were unpleasant incidents to relate, and unfortunate conditions to describe, but I have neither said nor written that any particular person, or persons, were to blame. It is not my duty, nor is it within my power, to analyze and criticise all the intricate workings of a government and its armies in the field.

The conditions that existed during the campaign and the suffering that had to be endured, were by no means peculiar to the Spanish-American War. Suffering, sickness, confusion, and death—these are inseparable from every armed conflict. They have always existed under such circumstances; they are a part of war itself, against which no human foresight can wholly provide.

Every civilized government is financially able to provide for its armies, but the great and seemingly insuperable difficulty is, to always have what is wanted at the place where it is most needed. It is a part of the strategy of war, that an enemy seeks battle at a time and place when his opponent is least prepared for it. Occasionally, too, an attacking commander is deceived. Where he expects only slight resistance, he encounters an overwhelming force and a battle of unforeseen proportions, with unexpected casualties, occurs. This is the universal testimony of nations. If it were not so, all needs could be provided for and every move planned at the outset.

It was for these reasons that a body of gentlemen, now known as the International Committee of Geneva, aided by National Associations in each country, planned, urged and finally succeeded in securing the adoption of the Treaty of the Red Cross. For these reasons the Treaty of Geneva and the National Committees of the Red Cross exist to-day. It is through the National Committees of the Red Cross in each treaty nation, that the people seek to assist the government in times of great emergency, in war or other calamity. It is only by favoring the organization of this Auxiliary Relief in times of peace, encouraging its development to the highest state of efficiency, preparing to utilize not only all the ordinary resources, but also the generous support of the people, through the Red Cross, that a government may hope to avoid much of the needless suffering, sickness and death in war.

In carrying out its mission, to assist in the prevention and relief of suffering, the Red Cross has neither the desire nor the intention to be censorious, and is actuated neither by political opinion nor motives of interference. It is but the outward and practical expression of that universal sympathy that goes out from the millions of homes and firesides, from the great heart of the nation, to humanity in distress, to the soldier on the march, in the bivouac and on the field of battle.

Through all the past years, during which the Red Cross has sought recognition, protection and co-operation, it was but for one purpose—to be ready. Our only regret is that, during the late war, we were not able to render greater service. Even the little that was accomplished, could not have been done without the ever ready assistance of the President and the Secretary of War.

Before us now lie the problems of the future, and the question is: How shall we meet them? As friends of humanity, while there is still a possibility of war or calamity, it behooves us to prepare. In America perhaps, we are apt to undervalue careful preparation and depend too much upon our impulses. Certainly in no other country have the people so often risen from a state of unreadiness and accomplished such wonderful results—at such a great sacrifice. The first American war since the adoption of the Treaty of Geneva, has brought the Red Cross home to the people; they have come to understand its meaning and desire to become a permanent part of it. Now that the appropriate time has come, it is the purpose of the Red Cross, relying upon the active sympathy of the government and the generous support of the people, to continue its work of preparation, until in its councils and in its ranks the whole country shall be represented, standing together, ready for any great emergency, inspired by the love of humanity and the world-wide motto of the Red Cross:

“In time of peace and prosperity, prepare for war and calamity.”

To be called to tell in a few brief weeks the whole story of the Red Cross from its origin to the present time seems a labor scarcely less than to have lived it. It is a task that, however unworthily it may now be performed, is, in itself, not unworthy the genius of George Eliot or Macaulay. It is a story illustrating the rapid rise of the humane sentiment in the latter half of the nineteenth century. On its European side, it tells of the first timid and cautious putting forth of the sentiment of humanity in war, amid the rattling swords and guns of Solferino, its deaths and wounds and its subsequent awful silence.

It tells of its later fertilization on the red fields of Gravelotte and Sedan beneath my own personal observation.

It was from such surroundings as these that the Red Cross has become the means by which philanthropy has been grafted onto the wild and savage stem of war.

From the first filaments spun in the heart of a solitary traveler have been drawn onward stronger and larger strands, until now more than forty of the principal nations of the earth are bound together by bonds of the highest international law, that must make war in the future less barbarous than it has been in the past.

It gives hope that “the very torrent, tempest and whirlwind” of war itself may some day at last, far off, perhaps, give way to the sunny and pleasant days of perpetual and universal peace. When a proposition for an absolute and common disarmament of nations, made by the strongest of the rulers of Europe, will not be met by cynical sneers and suggestions of Machiavelian craft.

On its American side it is a story of such immense success on the part of the American National Red Cross in some of its greatest and most difficult fields of labor, that no financial report of them has ever been made, because the story would have been altogether incredible. The universal opinion of ordinary business people would have been that these results could not have been obtained on the means stated, and therefore something must be wrong or hidden, and to save ourselves from painful suspicion, it was decided, rightly or wrongly, that the story must remain substantially untold till its work in other fields had prepared the public mind to accept the literal truth.

But the time has come at last when the facts may properly be set forth without fear that they will be discredited or undervalued.

It will relate some of the experiences, the labors, the successes and triumphs of the American National Red Cross in times of peace, by which it had prepared itself to enter upon the Cuban contest as its first independent work in time of war.

The Red Cross has done its part in that contest in the same spirit in which it has heretofore done all the work which has been committed to its care. It has done it unobtrusively, faithfully and successfully.

It may not altogether have escaped censure in the rather wild cyclone of criticism that has swept over the country, but we remember not so much the faultfinding that may have occasionally been poured out upon the Red Cross, as the blessings and benedictions from all sides for work well and nobly done that have fallen even upon its humblest ministers and assistants.

It has been truthfully said that “so great has been the pressure to share the difficulties and dangers of this service with only transportation and subsistence for pay, that the Red Cross could on these terms have had as many volunteers as there were enlisted men, if their services could have been utilized and made important.”

Indeed, it seems to have become the milder romance of war, and is gradually winning its way into the very heart of the pomp and circumstance of “glorious” war itself.

The Red Cross has therefore come to be so loved and trusted, its principles and insignia have been so deeply set into the substance of international law and the life of many great nations, that people everywhere are beginning to ask with enthusiasm about its origin and history; about the principles on which it acts. They ask for some statement of its experiences, its hardships and its perils, and for some account of those who have been most prominent in its operations.

It is partially to answer these and many similar inquiries that this book has been prepared. It is in part a compilation and revision of various statements necessarily incomplete and unsatisfactory, made from time to time to meet emergencies. In part it has been wholly rewritten.

A great portion of the story of the Red Cross has been told in other languages than English, because it was of work done by other than English people. Much of this literature has never been translated or placed within the reach of the English-speaking public.

Although the gradual growth of the idea of something like humanity in war, stimulated by the ignorant and insane horrors of India and the Crimea, and soothed and instructed by the sensible and practical work of Florence Nightingale, had slowly but surely led up to the conditions which made such a movement possible, it was not until the remarkable campaign of Napoleon III. in Northern Italy again woke the slumbering sympathies of the world that any definite steps revealed themselves.

In compiling this book I have been compelled to make use of much of the material contained in a previous history written by myself in 1883, which in turn was based upon the records and the literature of the International Committee, and the official correspondence connected with the treaty.

On June 24, 1859, occurred the memorable battle of Solferino, in which the French and Sardinians were arrayed against the Austrians. The battle raged over a wide reach of country and continued for sixteen hours; at the end of which sixteen thousand French and Sardinian soldiers and twenty thousand Austrians lay dead or were wounded and disabled on that field. The old and ever-recurring fact reappeared: the medical staff was wholly inadequate to the immense task suddenly cast upon them. For days after the battle the dead in part remained unburied, and the wounded where they fell, or crawled away as they could for shelter and help.

A Swiss gentleman, Henri Dunant by name, was then traveling near that battlefield, and was deeply impressed by the scenes there presented to him. He joined in the work of relief, but the inadequacy of preparation and the consequent suffering of the wounded haunted him afterwards and impelled him to write a book entitled “A Souvenir of Solferino,” in which he strongly advocated more humane and extensive appliances of aid to wounded soldiers. He lectured about them before the “Society of Public Utility” of Geneva. M. Gustav Moynier, a gentleman of independent fortune, was then president of that society. Dr. Louis Appia, a philanthropic physician, and Adolph Ador, a counsellor of repute in Geneva, became interested in his views. They drew the attention of Dufour, the general of the Swiss army, to the subject, and enlisted his hearty co-operation. A meeting of this society was called to consider “a proposition relative to the formation of permanent societies for the relief of wounded soldiers.” This meeting took place on the ninth of February, 1863. The matter was laid fully before the society. It was heartily received and acted upon and a committee was appointed with M. Moynier at its head to examine into methods by which the desired results might be obtained. So fully did this committee realize its responsibility and the magnitude, grandeur and labor of the undertaking, that the first steps were made even with timidity. But overcoming all obstacles, it decided upon a plan which seemed possible, and announced for the twenty-sixth of the following October a reunion to which were invited from many countries men sympathizing with its views or able to assist in its discussions. This international conference was held at the appointed time, and continued its sessions four days. At this meeting it was decided to call an international convention to be held at Geneva during the autumn of the following year (1864). At this convention was brought out the Geneva Treaty, and a permanent international committee with headquarters at Geneva was formed, and the fundamental plan of the national permanent relief societies adopted.

One of the first objects necessary and desired by the International Committee for the successful prosecution of its work was the co-operation by some of the more important states of Europe in a treaty which should recognize the neutrality of the hospitals established, of the sick and wounded, and of all persons and effects connected with the relief service; also the adoption of a uniform protective sign or badge. It inquired with care into the disposition of the several governments, and was met with active sympathy and moral support. It first secured the co-operation of the Swiss Federal Council and the Emperor of France. It shortly after procured the signatures of ten other governments, which were given at its room in the city hall of Geneva, August 22, 1864, and was called the Convention of Geneva.

Its sign or badge was also agreed upon, namely, a red cross on a white ground, which was to be worn on the arm by all persons acting with or in the service of the committees enrolled under the convention.

The treaty provides for the neutrality of all sanitary supplies, ambulances, surgeons, nurses, attendants, and sick or wounded men, and their safe conduct when they bear the sign of the organization, viz: the Red Cross.

Although the convention which originated the organization was necessarily international, the relief societies themselves are entirely national and independent; each one governing itself and making its own laws, according to the genius of its nationality and needs.

It was necessary for recognition and safety, and for carrying out the general provisions of the treaty, that a uniform badge should be agreed upon. The Red Cross was chosen out of compliment to the Swiss republic, where the first convention was held, and in which the central committee has its headquarters. The Swiss colors being a white cross on a red ground, the badge chosen was these colors reversed.

There are no “members of the Red Cross,” but only members of societies whose sign it is. There is no “Order of the Red Cross.” The relief societies use, each according to its convenience, whatever methods seem best suited to prepare in times of peace for the necessities of sanitary service in times of war. They gather and store gifts of money and supplies; arrange hospitals, ambulances, methods of transportation of wounded men, bureaus of information, correspondence, etc. All that the most ingenious philanthropy could devise and execute has been attempted in this direction.

In the Franco-Prussian war this was abundantly tested. That Prussia acknowledged its beneficence is proven by the fact that the emperor affixed the Red Cross to the Iron Cross of Merit. The number of governments adhering to the treaty was shortly after increased to twenty-two and at the present date there are forty-two.

The German-Austria war of 1866, though not fully developing the advantages of this international law, was yet the means of discovering its imperfections. Consequently, in 1867 the relief societies of Paris considered it necessary that the treaty should be revised, modified and completed. Requests were issued for modification. The International Committee transmitted them to the various governments, and in 1868 a second diplomatic conference was convened at Geneva at which were voted additional articles, improving the treaty by completing its design and ext

During the war of 1866 no decisive trial of the new principles involved in the treaty could be made, for Austria at that time had not adopted it. But in 1870-71 it was otherwise. The belligerents, both France and Germany, had accepted the treaty. Thus it became possible to show to the world the immense service and beneficent results which the treaty, through the relief societies, might accomplish.

The dullest apprehension can partially appreciate the responsibility incurred by relief societies in time of war. The thoughtful mind will readily perceive that these responsibilities involve constant vigilance and effort during periods of peace. It is wise statesmanship which suggests that in time of peace we must prepare for war, and it is no less a wise benevolence that makes preparation in the hour of peace for assuaging the ills that are sure to accompany war. We do not wait till battles are upon us to provide efficient soldiery and munitions of war. Everything that foresight and caution can devise to insure success is made ready and kept ready against the time of need. It is equally necessary to hold ourselves in readiness for effective service in the mitigation of evils consequent upon war, if humane work is to be undertaken for that purpose.

Permanent armies are organized, drilled and supported for the actual service in war. It is no less incumbent if we would do efficient work in alleviating the sufferings caused by the barbarisms of war, that we should organize philanthropic efforts and be ready with whatever is necessary, to be on the field at the sound of the first gun. An understanding of this truth led the conference of 1863 to embody in its articles as one of its first cardinal characteristics the following: “In time of peace the committee will occupy itself with means to render genuine assistance in time of war.”

The International Committee assumed that there should be a relief association in every country which endorsed the treaty, and so generally was the idea accepted that at the end of the year 1864, when only ten governments had been added to the convention, twenty-five committees had been formed, under each of which relief societies were organized. It was, however, only after the wars of 1864, 1866 and 1870 that the movement began really to be popular. These conflicts brought not only contestants, but neutral powers so to appreciate the horrors of war, that they were quite ready to acknowledge the beneficence and wisdom of the Geneva Treaty. Many who approved the humane idea and expressed a hearty sympathy for the object to be obtained, had heretofore regarded it as Utopian, a thing desirable but not attainable, an amiable and fanatical illusion which would ever elude the practical grasp. Nevertheless, the work accomplished during the wars referred to won over not only such cavillers, but persons actually hostile to the movement, to regard it as a practical and most beneficent undertaking. The crowned heads of Europe were quick to perceive the benign uses of the associations, and bestowed upon the central committees of their countries money, credit and personal approbation. The families of sovereigns contributed their sympathy and material support. The list of princes and princesses who came forward with personal aid and assumed direction of the work, was by no means small, thus proving correct the augury of the Conference of 1863, that “The governments would accord their high protection to the committees in their organization.”

From one of the bulletins of the International Committee we make the following hopeful extract:

“The whole of Europe is marshaled under the banner of the Red Cross. To its powerful and peaceful sign the committee hopes to bring all the civilized nations of the earth. Wherever men fight and tear each other in pieces, wherever the glare and roar of war are heard, they aim to plant the white banner that bears the blessed sign of relief. Already they have carried it into Asia. Their ensign waves in Siberia, on the Chinese frontier, and in Turkestan, and, through the African committee, in Algeria and Egypt. Oceanica has a committee at Batavia. Japan accepted the Treaty of Geneva in 1886, and on the breaking out of hostilities between Japan and China, the Minister of War issued a notification to the Japanese army, September 22, 1894, calling their attention to the substance of the treaty.”

One of the things considered indispensable, and therefore adopted as a resolution by the Conference of 1863, was the centralization of the work in each country separately by itself.

While the treaty must be universally acknowledged and its badge accepted as a universal sign, it was equally essential that the societies of the different countries should be simply national and in no respect international. It was therefore ordained by the conference that all local committees or organizations desirous of working with the Red Cross, should do so under the auspices of the Central Committee of their own nation, which is recognized by its government and also recognized by the International Committee from which the sign of the Red Cross emanates. Singularly enough, the International Committee has had considerable difficulty in making this fully understood, and frequently has been obliged to suggest to local committees the necessity for their subordination to the Central or National Committee. Once in three months the International Committee publishes an official list of all central committees recognized by it as national. In this way it is able to exercise a certain control, and to repress entanglements and abuses which would become consequent on irresponsible or counterfeit organizations. To recapitulate: the Commission of Geneva, of which M. Moynier is president, is the only International Committee. All other committees are simply national or subordinate to national committees. The Conference of 1863 foresaw that national differences would prevent a universal code of management, and that to make the societies international would destroy them, so far as efficiency was concerned. They therefore adopted a resolution that “Central committees should organize in such a manner as seemed the most useful and convenient to themselves.” Every committee being its own judge, has its own constitution and laws. To be efficient, it must have the recognition of its own government, must bear the stamp of national individuality and be constructed according to the spirit, habits and needs of the country it represents. No hierarchy unites the national societies; they are independent of each other, but they have each an individual responsibility to the treaty, under the ensign of which they work, and they labor in a common cause. It is desirable that they should all be known by one name, namely, the Society of the Red Cross. The functions of the International Committee, whose headquarters are at Geneva, were also determined by the Conference of 1863. It is to serve provisionally as an intermediate agent between national committees, and to facilitate their communications with each other. It occupies itself with the general interests of the Red Cross in correspondence, and the study of theoretical and practical methods of amelioration and relief.

The national committees are charged with the direction and responsibility for the work in their own countries. They must provide resources to be utilized in time of need, take active measures to secure adherents, establish local societies, and have an efficient working force always in readiness for action, and in time of war to dispatch and distribute safely and wisely all accumulations of material and supplies, nurses and assistants, to their proper destination, and, in short, whatever may be gathered from the patriotism and philanthropy of the country. They must always remember that central committees without abundant sectional branches would be of little use.

In most countries the co-operation of women has been eagerly sought. It is needless to say it has been as eagerly given. In some countries the central committees are mixed, both sexes working together; in others, sub-committees are formed by women, and in others, such as the Grand Duchy of Baden, woman leads.

As a last detail of organization, the Conference of 1863 recommended to the central committees to put themselves en rapport with their respective governments, in order that their offers of service should be accepted when required. This makes it incumbent upon national societies to obtain and hold government recognition, by which they are endowed with the immunities and privileges of legally constituted bodies and with recognition from other nations in time of war, not otherwise possible to them.

Organization, recognition and communication are by no means all that is necessary to insure the fulfillment of the objects of these associations. A thing most important to be borne in mind is that if money be necessary for war, it is also an indispensable agent in relief of the miseries occasioned by war. Self-devotion alone will not answer. The relief societies need funds and other resources to carry on their work. They not only require means for current expenses, but, most of all, for possible emergencies. To obtain and prudently conserve these resources is an important work. The Russian Society set a good example of activity in this direction. From the beginning of its organization in 1867 it systematically collected money over the whole empire and neglected nothing that tended to success. It put boxes in churches, convents, armories, railroad depots, steamboats, in every place frequented by the public. Beside the collection of funds, the Conference of 1863 recommended that peace periods should be occupied in gathering necessary material for service. In 1868 there were in Geneva alone five depots where were accumulated one thousand two hundred and twenty-eight shirts, besides hosiery, bandages, lint, etc., for over one thousand wounded. There were also large collections in the provinces, and now, thirty years later, these accumulations have probably greatly increased. In other countries the supplies remaining after wars were gathered in depots and were added to abundantly. Thus, in 1868, the Berlin Committee was in possession of supplies worth over twenty-five thousand dollars. Especial care is taken to acquire familiarity with the use of all sanitary material, to eliminate as far as possible whatever may be prejudicial to sick or wounded men, to improve both sanitary system and all supplies to be used under it, to have everything of the very best, as surgical instruments, medicine chests, bandages, stretchers, wagons, tents and field hospitals.

We would refer to the effort made in the national exhibitions of the various countries, where the societies of the Red Cross have displayed their practical improvements and inventions in competitive fields, taxing to the utmost human ingenuity and skill. Some countries have taken grand prizes. An exposition at The Hague was held in 1867 exclusively for the work of the Red Cross. Permanent museums have been established where all sorts of sanitary material for relief are exhibited, as may be seen in Stockholm, Carlsruhe, St. Petersburg, Moscow and Paris. The museum of Paris is the most important of all, and is international, other countries having participated in its foundation. Another method is the publication of works bearing upon this subject, some of which are scientific and very valuable. Not less important is the sanitary personnel. Of all aid, efficient nurses are the most difficult to obtain. There are numbers of men and women who have the will and devotion necessary to lead them into hospitals or to battlefields, but very few of them are capable of performing well the duties of nurses. Therefore, but a small portion of the volunteers are available. The relief societies soon found that women were by nature much better fitted for this duty than men can be, and to enable them to fulfill to the best advantage the mission for which they are so well adapted, it was decided to afford them the best possible professional instruction. For this purpose, during peace training schools were established from which were graduated great numbers of women who are ready at a moment’s notice to go upon the battlefield or into hospitals. These professional nurses find no difficulty during times of peace in securing remunerative employment. Indeed, they are eagerly sought for by the community to take positions at the bedside of the sick, with the proviso that they are to be allowed to obey the pledge of their society at the first tocsin of war. There are schools for this purpose in England, Germany, Sweden, Holland, Russia and other European countries, and nothing has been neglected to make them thorough and to place them on a strong and solid basis.

Notwithstanding the readiness with which most persons will perceive the beneficent uses of relief societies in war, it may not be amiss to particularize some of the work accomplished by the societies of the Red Cross. Not to mention civil disturbances and lesser conflicts, they participated in not less than five great wars in the first ten years, commencing with Schleswig-Holstein, and ending with the Franco-German. Russia and Turkey have followed, with many others since that time, in all of which these societies have signally proved their power to ameliorate the horrors of war. The earlier of these, while affording great opportunity for the beneficent work of the societies, were also grand fields of instruction and discipline to the committee, enabling them to store up vast funds of practical knowledge which were to be of great service.

The Sanitary Commission of the United States also served as an excellent example in many respects to the relief societies of Europe, and from it they took many valuable lessons. Thus in 1866 Europe was much better prepared than ever before for the care of those who suffered from the barbarisms of war. She was now ready with some degree of ability to oppose the arms of charity to the arms of violence, and make a kind of war on war itself. Still however there was a lack of centralization. The provincial committees worked separately, and consequently lost force. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, large amounts of money were gathered, and munificent supplies of material brought into store. The Austrian Committee alone collected 2,170,000 francs, and a great supply of all things needed in hospital service. The Central Committee was of great use in facilitating correspondence between the different peoples comprising the Austrian Empire, the bureau maintaining correspondence in eleven different languages.

Italy was not backward in the performance of her duty. She used her abundant resources in the most effectual way. Not only were her provincial societies of relief united for common action, but they received external aid from France and Switzerland. Here was exhibited the first beautiful example of neutral powers interfering in the cause of charity in time of war—instead of joining in the work of destruction, lending their aid to repair its damages. The provincial committees banded together under the Central Committee of Milan. Four squads, comprising well-trained nurses and assistants, were organized and furnished with all necessary material to follow the military ambulances or field hospitals, whose wagons were placed at their disposal.

Thus the committee not only reinforced the sanitary personnel of the army, but greatly increased its supplies. It provided entirely the sanitary material for the Tyrolese volunteers, and afforded relief to the navy, and when the war was over it remained among the wounded. In addition to the supplies this committee afforded, it expended in money not less than 199,064 francs.

But after all it was Germany standing between the two armies which distinguished herself. Since the Conference of 1863 she had been acting on the rule of preparation, and now found herself in readiness for all emergencies. The Central Committee of Berlin was flooded with contributions from the provincial committees. In the eight provinces of Prussia 4,000,000 of thalers were collected, and the other states of Germany were not behind. So munificently did the people bestow their aid, that large storehouses were provided in Berlin and in the provinces for its reception, and at the central depot in Berlin two hundred paid persons, besides a large number of volunteers, and nearly three hundred ladies and misses were employed in classifying, parceling, packing up, and dispatching the goods. Special railroad trains carried material to the points of need. In one train were twenty-six cars laden with 1800 to 2000 cwt. of supplies. Never had private charity, however carefully directed, been able to accomplish such prodigies of benevolence. It was now that the beneficence of the Treaty and the excellence of the organization were manifested. But the committee did not confine itself to sending supplies for the wounded to the seat of war. It established and provisioned refreshment stations for the trains, to which those unable to proceed on the trains to the great hospitals without danger to life, were admitted, nursed and cared for with the tenderest solicitude until they were sufficiently recovered to be removed, or death took them. At the station of Pardubitz from six hundred to eight hundred were cared for daily for two months, and lodging provided for three hundred at night. This example suffices to show the extraordinary results of well-organized plans and concerted action. During the war, the relief societies had also to contend with the terrible scourge of cholera. There can be no estimate of the misery assuaged and deaths prevented by the unselfish zeal and devotion of the wearers of the Red Cross.

In the interval between the wars of 1866 and 1867, and that of 1870-71, the time had been improved by the societies existing under the Geneva Treaty, in adding to their resources in every possible manner. Improvements were made in all articles of sanitary service; excellent treatises regarding the hygiene of the camp and hospital were widely circulated; the press had greatly interested itself in the promulgation of information regarding all matters of interest or instruction pertaining to sanitary effort, and almost universally lent its powerful influence to build up the societies. Ten new societies were formed during this time. In Germany the work of the Red Cross was so thoroughly organized, that at the first signal from Berlin, committees arrived as if by magic at all required points, forming a chain which extended over the whole country, and numbered over two thousand persons. This is more remarkable since Germany was a neutral power. Constant communication was kept up between these committees and the central bureau, and the most perfect order and discipline were maintained. Relief was sent from one or another of these stations as was needed. The state afforded free transport, and the voluntary contributions of the people kept up the supplies of sanitary material, so that there was never any lack or danger of failure. With the government transports, whether by land or water, there went always the agents of the Red Cross, protected by their badges and flag, to wait on the invoices, hasten their progress, see to their being kept in good order, and properly delivered at their destination. Depots of supplies were moved from place to place as exigencies demanded. The greatest care was taken to prevent disorder or confusion, and the best military circumspection and regularity prevailed. The great central depot at Berlin comprised seven sections, viz: Camp material; clothing; dressing, for wounds; surgical apparatus; medicines and disinfectants; food and tobacco; and hospital furnishings. Did space allow, it would be desirable to give statistics of the contributions in money and supplies to this service. Suffice it to say, the humanity of peoples is far beyond that of governments. Governments appropriate immense sums to carry on destructive conflicts, but the work of relief societies the world over, and especially during the war of 1870-71, has shown that the philanthropy of the people equals their patriotism. The sums given to assuage the miseries of the Franco-Prussian war were simply fabulous. In 1863, fears were expressed that there would be difficulty in collecting needful funds and supplies to carry out the designs of the treaty. These misgivings proved groundless. After the war of 1870-71, notwithstanding nothing had been withheld in the way of relief, the societies settled their accounts with large balances in their treasuries.

In France not nearly so much had been previously done to provide for the exigencies which fell upon them, but the committee worked with such vigor and so wrought upon the philanthropy of individuals, that active measures of relief were instantly taken. Gold and supplies poured into the hands of the committee at Paris. One month sufficed to organize and provide seventeen campaign ambulances or field hospitals, which immediately joined the army and accompanied it through the first period of the war, or until the battle of Sedan. In Paris ambulances were stationed at the railroad depots to pick up the wounded, and a bureau of information was created for soldiers’ families. When the siege of Paris was about to take place, the committee threw, without delay, a commission into Brussels charged with the direction and help of flying hospitals. Nine committees were established in the provinces, with power to act for the Central Committee and to invite the people to help. Meanwhile the committee in Paris did its utmost to mitigate the distress that reigned there, and to prepare for the result of the siege. History has recorded the sufferings, the horrors of misery that accompanied and followed that siege; but history can never relate what wretchedness was averted, what agonies were alleviated, what multitudes of lives were saved, by the presence and effort of the relief societies! What the state of France must have been without the merciful help of the Red Cross societies the imagination dare not picture. After the armistice was signed there were removed from Paris, under the auspices of the relief societies, ten thousand wounded men, who otherwise must have lingered in agony, or died from want of care; and there were brought back by them to French soil nine thousand men who had been cared for in German hospitals.

Neutral countries also during this war were ready and bountiful with help; and those working under the treaty did most effectual service. England contributed 7,500,000 francs, besides large gifts of sanitary supplies; in one hundred and eighty-eight days’ time she sent to the seat of war twelve thousand boxes of supplies through the agents of the Red Cross.

To give an idea of the readiness and efficacy with which the committees worked even in neutral countries, one instance will suffice. From Pont-a-Mousson a telegram was sent to London for two hundred and fifty iron beds for the wounded, and in forty-eight hours they arrived in answer to the request. England kept also at the seat of war agents to inform the committee at home of whatever was most needed in supplies. The neutral countries sent also surgeons, physicians and nurses, and in many other ways gave practical testimony to the benign efficacy of the Geneva treaty.

As will be seen by the foregoing pages, the objects and provisions of the Geneva convention and the societies acting under it, are designed for, and applicable to, the exigencies of war only. The close contact of the nations hitherto signing this treaty, renders them far more liable to the recurrence of war among them than our own, which by its geographical position and distance from neighboring nations, entertains a feeling of security which justifies the hope that we may seldom, if ever again, have occasion to provide for the exigencies of war in our land.

This leads the American Red Cross to perceive the great wisdom, foresight and breadth of the resolution adopted by the convention of 1863, which provides that “Committees shall organize in the manner which shall seem most useful and convenient to themselves;” also in their article on the organization of societies in these pages occurs the following: “To be efficient, societies must have government recognition, must bear the stamp of their national individuality, and be constructed according to the spirit, habits, and needs of the country they represent. This is essential to success.”

As no work can retain its vitality without constant action, so in a country like ours, with a people of so active a temperament, an essential element in endearing to them a work, is to keep constantly before them its usefulness. With this view the question of meeting the want heretofore felt on all occasions of public calamity, of sufficient extent to be deemed of national importance, has received attention at the hands of this association. For this purpose the necessary steps have been inaugurated to organize auxiliary societies, prepared to co-operate with the central association in all plans for prompt relief; whilst the volunteers who shall render personal aid will be expected to hold themselves in the same readiness as in the case of an international call.

It must, however, be distinctly understood that these additional functions for local purposes shall in no manner impair the international obligation of the association; but on the contrary it is believed will render them more effective in time of need.

It may appear singular that a movement so humane in its purposes, so wise and well considered in its regulations, so universal in its application, and every way so unexceptional, should have been so long in finding its way to the knowledge and consideration of the people of the United States. This fact appears to have been the result of circumstances rather than intention. While eminently a reading people, we are almost exclusively confined to the English language. The literature of the Red Cross is entirely in other languages, largely French, and thus has failed to meet the eye of the reading public.

It will be observed that the first convention was called during our war; no delegates were especially sent by the United States, but our Minister Plenipotentiary to Switzerland, acting as delegate, sent a copy of the doings of the convention to our government for recognition. In the midst of civil war as we were at the time the subject was very naturally and properly declined.

It was again most fittingly presented in 1866 through Rev. Dr. Henry W. Bellows, and by this eminent gentleman and philanthropist a Society of the Red Cross was actually formed; but for some cause it failed, and the convention was not recognized. The International Committee became in a manner discouraged in its efforts with the United States, but finally it was decided to present it again through Miss Clara Barton, and accordingly the following letter was addressed to President Hayes during the first year of his administration:

International Committee for
the Relief of Wounded Soldiers,
Geneva, August 19, 1877.

This letter was sent to Miss Barton, who, having labored with committees of the Red Cross during the Franco-Prussian war, thus becoming familiar with its methods, was very naturally selected as the bearer of the letter, and the exponent of the cause. Moreover, foreign nations had secured her promise to present it to the government on her return to her country and endeavor to make its principles understood among the people.

Accordingly the letter was presented by Miss Barton to President Hayes and by him referred to his Secretary of State, but as no action was taken, and no promise of any action given, it was not deemed advisable to proceed to the organization of societies formed with special reference to acting under the regulations of a governmental treaty having no present existence, and no guaranty of any in the future.

Thus it remained until the incoming of the administration of President Garfield when a copy of the letter of Mr. Moynier was presented by Miss Barton to President Garfield, very cordially received by him, and endorsed to Secretary Blaine; from whom after full consideration of the subject the following letter was received:

On the twenty-fifth of June the following letter from Mr. Moynier, president of the International Committee of Geneva, in reply to the preceding letter of Secretary Blaine, was received by Miss Barton, and duly presented at the State department:

The very cordial and frank expressions of sympathy contained in Secretary Blaine’s letter gave assurance of the acceptance of the terms of the treaty by the government at no distant day, and warranted the formation of societies. Accordingly a meeting was held in Washington, D.C., May 21, 1881, which resulted in the formation of an association to be known as the American [National] Association of the Red Cross. A constitution was adopted, a copy of which follows:

Name, Location.

Article 1. This Association shall be known as the American Association of the Red Cross, with its office located at Washington, D.C., and shall consist of the subscribers hereunto, and such other persons as shall hereafter be elected to membership; and it shall constitute a Central National Association with power to organize state and territorial associations auxiliary to itself.

Objects of Association.

Art. 2. The objects of the National Association are,

First, To secure the adoption by the Government of the United States of the Treaty of August 22, 1864.

Second, To obtain recognition by the Government of the United States, and to hold itself in readiness for communicating therewith at all times, to the end that its purposes may be more widely and effectually carried out.

Third, To organize a system of national relief and apply the same in mitigating the sufferings caused by war, pestilence, famine and other calamities.

Fourth, To collect and diffuse information touching the progress of mercy, the organization of national relief, the advancement of sanitary science and hospital service, and their application.

Fifth, To co-operate with all other national societies, for the furtherance of the articles herein set forth, in such ways as are provided by the regulations governing such co-operation.

Duties.

Art. 3. This association shall hold itself in readiness in the event of war or any calamity great enough to be considered national, to inaugurate such practical measures, in mitigation of the suffering and for the protection and relief of sick and wounded, as may be consistent with the objects of the association as indicated in Article 2.

Officers.

Art. 4. The officers of this association shall consist of a president; first vice-president; other vice-presidents, not to exceed one from each State, Territory, and the District of Columbia; a secretary; treasurer; an executive board; a board for consultation, which shall consist of the following officers of the United States Government, viz: The President and his cabinet: General of the Army; Surgeon General; Adjutant General, and Judge Advocate General, and such other officers as may hereafter be deemed necessary.

The undersigned, all of whom are citizens of the United States of America, and a majority of whom are citizens of the District of Columbia, desirous of forming an association for benevolent and charitable purposes to co-operate with the Comité International de Secours aux Militaires Blessés of Geneva, Switzerland, do, in pursuance of sections 545, 546, 547, 548, 549, 550 and 551 of the Revised Statutes of the United States, relating to the District of Columbia, make, sign and acknowledge these:

1.

The name of this association shall be the American Association of the Red Cross.

2.

The term of its existence shall be for twenty (20) years.

3.

The objects of this association shall be:

1st. To secure by the United States the adoption of the treaty of August 22, 1864, between Italy, Baden, Belgium, Denmark, Holland, Spain, Portugal, France, Prussia, Saxony, Wurtemberg, and the Federal Council of Switzerland.

2d. To obtain recognition by the Government of the United States, and to hold itself in readiness for communicating therewith at all times, to the end that its purposes may be more wisely and effectually carried out.

3d. To organize a system of national relief and apply the same in mitigating the sufferings caused by war, pestilence, famine and other calamities.

4th. To collect and diffuse information touching the progress of mercy, the organization of national relief, the advancement of sanitary science, and their application.

5th. To co-operate with all other similar national societies for the furtherance of the articles herein set forth, in such ways as are provided by the regulations governing such co-operation.

4.

The number of this association, to be styled the “Executive Board,” for the first year of its existence, shall be eleven (11).

In witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands and seals at the city of Washington this first day of July, A.D. 1881.

In the year 1864, Europe was covered, as if by enchantment, with a network of committees for the relief of wounded soldiers; and this phenomenon would have led the least discerning persons to suspect that this special work was entering on a new phase. Several of these committees had already begun to exercise their functions in the Schleswig-Holstein war, yet all unanimously proclaimed that they would constitute themselves as permanent institutions, and, in a great measure, they seemed to obey one watch-word. All, in fact, declared in their charter of establishment, that they would conform to the resolutions of the Geneva Conference.

What, then, was this conference, whose magic wand had, so to speak, electrified all nations? It seems too important an historical fact to be passed over in silence, because we feel certain that an inquiry into its nature, and how it arose, will prove highly interesting.

1. It originated with the Société Genevoise d’utilité publique, which had undertaken to contribute toward the progress of philanthropy. At its sitting of the ninth of February, 1863, it discussed the question, in accordance with the proposition of one of its members, M. Henri Dunant, whether means might not be found to form, during a time of peace and tranquillity, relief societies, whose aim should be to help the wounded in time of war by means of volunteers, zealous, devoted and well qualified for such work.

Although it had no very clear idea of what should be done, in order to obtain the result which seemed desirable, the society took the matter under its patronage, and entrusted the examination of it to a special commission, with full power to act.

The course to be pursued was long debated in this little committee, the members of which finally agreed to submit the question to more competent judges. It was, in fact, necessary, before encouraging the formation of societies of volunteers, to know whether any need for them had been felt, and whether they would not be regarded with a jealous eye by the administrative or military authorities. It was also necessary to determine what should be the nature of their action under various social and political forms of government. In order not to venture recklessly on a road bristling with obstacles, it was therefore evident that they ought to take as guides experienced men, versed in the practice of war, and belonging to different nationalities. An International Conference appeared to be indispensable to the work, as a basis or starting point. If, after this ordeal, the first idea, upon which the most divergent opinions were even then professed, should be recognized as impracticable, its partisans would at least possess the consolation of having done their best. We shall have, said one of them, the approval of our consciences, and the feeling that we have done that which it is right men should do who love their neighbor. If, on the contrary, the thing were pronounced to be good, useful and acceptable, what encouragement such a decision would afford them to launch out upon their course! What moral force they who should first put themselves in the breach would receive! It was not a time to hesitate. The circular convoking the meeting was issued on the first of September, 1863.

Nothing was neglected that could give the greatest publicity to this appeal. It was brought specially to the notice of the International Statistical Congress, sitting at Berlin, in the month of September, 1863, which expressed an opinion entirely favorable to the project.

At length the day fixed for the opening of the Conference arrived. On the morning of the twenty-sixth of October, in the rooms of the Athenæum at Geneva, might be seen an assembly composed of eighteen official delegates, representing fourteen governments, six delegates of different associations, seven unaccredited visitors, with five members of the Geneva Committee. It was sufficient to glance over the list of the thirty-six members of the Conference, to understand that the expectation of its promoters was attained, and even surpassed, and that their initiative had already found its reward in the meeting of such a body. It was impossible that a deliberation among men so eminently qualified should not throw the fullest light on the question submitted to them. The committee tells us that the eagerness with which the invitation was responded to soon justified the propriety of the step it had taken. It became convinced that, in drawing public attention to the insufficiency of the official sanitary service, it had touched a sensitive chord, and had responded to a universal wish. It was also convinced that it was not pursuing a chimerical object. If, for a moment, it had feared that its project would only attract mere dreamers and Utopians, it was reassured on seeing that it had to deal with men in earnest, with medical and military magnates. It also received much encouragement from persons who were prevented from taking part in the debates, but who testified to the lively interest they took in them.

It was then, with the most happy auspices that General Dufour opened the Conference, which lasted four days, under the presidency of M. Moynier, president of the Genevoise Society of Public Utility, and the vice-presidency of His Highness Prince Henry XIII., of Reuss, the delegate of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem. Every one seemed animated by the best motives, and desirous not to lose so good an opportunity to open a new arena for the cause of charity. It was interesting to witness the general unanimity, as new as it was spontaneous, on a question of humanity instantaneously developed into one of philanthropic urgency. Dr. Landa, delegate of the Spanish Government, well expressed the sentiment of the assembly when he exclaimed, “Oh, that we may be so happy as to discover the basis which shall render the the useful institution we aspire to found durable and effectual!” The magnitude of the result which may be obtained, and the tears which may be wiped away, demand that we should devote all our efforts to attain it; and if this work be realized, it will be an event which all friends of humanity will be able to hail with the greatest joy. We feel, said the president of the Conference, that a great duty is imposed upon us, and we shall not rest until we have found means to lessen for our fellow-creatures the privations, the sufferings and the evils of all kinds which are the inevitable consequences of an armed contest.

So much good-will was not superfluous, in order to accomplish the arduous task of the Conference. For what, indeed, was it laboring? For nothing less than to reconcile two opposites—charity and war. The propriety of voluntary aid being admitted, it was necessary to leave it sufficiently free, in order that zeal might not be cooled by unreasonable conditions; yet, at the same time, to subject it to a certain discipline, so that it might have access to the army without being an encumbrance to it. Here was the real problem to be solved. Here was a link to be established between the civil and the military, which, though opposed, are not necessarily incompatible, and should be encouraged to live fraternally side by side. The experience of modern wars seemed to justify this inquiry, for it was averred that here the administration of voluntary offerings had been defective. Besides, the question presented itself in a new character, owing to the fact that a staff of volunteers occupied an important place in it. If this view of the case was to take precedence of all others, nothing less than a complete revolution was intended, and its importance being acknowledged, it would have been wrong to engage in it otherwise than earnestly. It was for discussion to reveal the opinion that was entertained of it.

Independently of all that was difficult in the very nature of the subject with which the conference was to occupy itself, it met with another obstacle, in the consideration which it was obliged to give to the different forms of government under which civilized nations dwell.

It is certain that a relief committee would be bound to modify its conduct, and its hands would be more or less free, according to the political or social circle in which it would have its existence. For example, where individual initiative is highly developed, as in Switzerland and America, there will be found liberty for the efforts of free societies which would not be tolerated to the same degree in France or Austria. The consequence of this situation was, that, called to draw up a code of military philanthropy for the use of all nations, the Conference could only advocate general principles, so that its decisions might be everywhere acceptable.

Here it took its stand, and following the advice of its president, it left to each society the duty of regulating minute details as it might judge expedient. It wisely confined its ambition to the construction of a solid foundation for the monument which it wished to erect, and which was perhaps destined to become one of the glories of our century.

Let us now give heed to the voice of the Conference, and let us cast our eyes over the resolutions, placed side by side with the propositions presented by the Geneva Committee, under the title of Projet de Concordat. It is evident, indeed, from a comparison of these two documents that the first ideas were true, since they have only been slightly modified. The authors of this project, however, offer it as the eminently perfectible fruit of their first meditations, and as a basis which they deemed it right to furnish to the Conference, in order to guide it in its labors.

General Provisions.

The following public address, written in 1881, is inserted because of its historical character, showing as it does, quite as well as anything that could now be written, the general apathy in America concerning the treaty, and the many obstacles that had to be overcome by years of struggle and weary waiting:

To the President, Congress, and People of the United States:

A brief statement of how I became acquainted with the Red Cross may serve to explain at once its principles and methods, as well as the present attitude of our government in regard to it.

The practical beneficence of the sanitary and Christian commissions of the United States attracted the attention of the civilized world. I had borne some part in the operations of field hospitals in actual service in the battles of the Civil War, and some public notice had been taken of that work. But, broken in health, I was directed by my physicians to go to Europe prepared to remain three years.

In September, 1869, I arrived at Geneva, Switzerland. In October I was visited by the president and members of the “International Committee for the relief of the wounded in war.” They wished to learn if possible why the United States had declined to sign the treaty. Our position was incomprehensible to them. If the treaty had originated with a monarchial government they could see some ground for hesitancy. But it originated in a Republic older than our own. To what did America object, and how could these objections be overcome? They had twice formally presented it to the government at Washington, once in 1864, through our Minister Plenipotentiary at Berne, who was present at the convention; again in 1868, through Rev. Dr. Henry W. Bellows, the great head of war relief in America. They had failed in both instances. No satisfactory nor adequate reason had ever been given by the nation for the course pursued. They had thought the people of America, with their grand sanitary record, would be the first to appreciate and accept it. I listened in silent wonder to all this recital, and when I did reply it was to say that I had never in America heard of the Convention of Geneva nor of the treaty, and was sure that as a country America did not know she had declined; that she would be the last to withhold recognition of a humane movement; that it had doubtless been referred to and declined by some one department of the government, or some one official, and had never been submitted to the people; and as its literature was in languages foreign to our English-speaking population, it had no way of reaching us.

You will naturally infer that I examined it. I became all the time more deeply impressed with the wisdom of its principles, the good practical sense of its details, and its extreme usefulness in practice. Humane intelligence had devised its provisions and peculiarly adapted it to win popular favor. The absurdity of our own position in relation to it was simply marvelous. As I counted up its roll of twenty-two nations—not a civilized people in the world but ourselves missing, and saw Greece, Spain, and Turkey there, I began to fear that in the eyes of the “rest of mankind” we could not be far from barbarians. This reflection did not furnish a stimulating food for national pride. I grew more and more ashamed. But the winter wore on as winters do with invalids abroad. The summer found me at Berne in quest of strength among its mountain views and baths.

On the fifteenth of July, 1870, France declared war against Prussia. Within three days a band of agents from the “International Committee of Geneva,” headed by Dr. Louis Appia (one of the prime movers of the convention), equipped for work and en route for the seat of war, stood at the door of my villa inviting me to go with them and take such part as I had taken in our own war. I had not strength to trust for that, and declined with thanks, promising to follow in my own time and way, and I did follow within a week. No shot had then been fired—no man had fallen—yet this organized, powerful commission was on its way, with its skilled agents, ready to receive, direct and dispense the charities and accumulations which the generous sympathies of twenty-two nations, if applied to, might place at its disposal. These men had treaty power to go directly on to any field, and work unmolested in full co-operation with the military and commanders-in-chief; their supplies held sacred and their efforts recognized and seconded in every direction by either belligerent army. Not a man could lie uncared for nor unfed. I thought of the Peninsula in McClellan’s campaign—of Pittsburg Landing, Cedar Mountain and second Bull Run, Antietam, Old Fredericksburg with its acres of snow-covered and gun-covered glacee, and its fourth-day flag of truce; of its dead, and starving wounded, frozen to the ground, and our commissions and their supplies in Washington, with no effective organization to go beyond; of the Petersburg mine, with its four thousand dead and wounded and no flag of truce, the wounded broiling in a July sun—died and rotted where they fell. I remembered our prisons, crowded with starving men whom all the powers and pities of the world could not reach even with a bit of bread. I thought of the widows’ weeds still fresh and dark through all the land, north and south, from the pine to the palm; the shadows on the hearths and hearts over all my country. Sore, broken hearts, ruined, desolate homes! Was this people to decline a humanity in war? Was this a country to reject a treaty for the help of wounded soldiers? Were these the women and men to stand aloof and consider? I believed if these people knew that the last cloud of war had forever passed from their horizon, the tender, painful, deathless memories of what had been would bring them in with a force no power could resist. They needed only to know.

As I journeyed on and saw the work of these Red Cross societies in the field, accomplishing in four months under their systematic organization what we failed to accomplish in four years without it—no mistakes, no needless suffering, no starving, no lack of care, no waste, no confusion, but order, plenty, cleanliness and comfort wherever that little flag made its way—a whole continent marshaled under the banner of the Red Cross—as I saw all this, and joined and worked in it, you will not wonder that I said to myself “If I live to return to my country I will try to make my people understand the Red Cross and that treaty.” But I did more than resolve, I promised other nations I would do it, and other reasons pressed me to remember my promise. The Franco-Prussian war and the war of the commune were both enormous in the extent of their operations and in the suffering of individuals. This great modern international impulse of charity went out everywhere to meet and alleviate its miseries. The small, poor countries gave of their poverty and the rich nations poured out abundantly of their vast resources. The contributions of those under the Red Cross went quietly, promptly through international responsible channels, were thoughtfully and carefully distributed through well-known agents, returns, accurate to a franc, were made and duly published to the credit of the contributing nations, and the object aimed at was accomplished.

America, filled with German and French people, with people humane and universal in their instincts of citizenship and brotherhood, freighted ships with supplies and contributions in money prodigal and vast. They arrived in Europe, but they were not under the treaty regulations. No sign of the Red Cross authorized any one to receive and distribute them. The poor baffled agents, honest, well meaning and indefatigable, did all that individuals without system or organization could do. But for the most part the magnificent charity of America was misapplied and went as unsystematized charity always tends to go, to ruin and to utter waste. The object aimed at was not accomplished. At the end of the report of the international organization of the Red Cross occurs something like this: “It is said that the United States of America also contributed something for the sick and wounded, but what, or how much, or to whom, or when or where, it is impossible to tell.”

In the autumn of 1873, I returned to America more broken in health than when I left in 1869. Then followed years of suffering in which I forgot how to walk, but I remembered my resolve and my promise. After almost five years I was able to go to Washington with a letter from Monsieur Moynier, president of the International Committee of Geneva, to the President of the United States, asking once more that our government accede to the articles of the convention. Having been made the official bearer of this letter, I presented it in 1877 to President Hayes, who received it kindly, referring it to his Secretary of State, Mr. Evarts, who in his turn referred it to his assistant secretary as the person who would know all about it, examine and report for decision. I then saw how it was made to depend not alone upon one department, but one man, who had been the assistant secretary of state in 1864 and also in 1868, when the treaty had been on the two previous occasions presented to our government. It was a settled thing. There was nothing to hope for from that administration. The matter had been officially referred and would be decided accordingly. It would be declined because it had been declined. If I pressed it to a decision, it would only weigh it down with a third refusal. I waited. My next thought was to refer it to Congress. That step would be irregular, and discourteous to the administration. I did not like to take it, still I attempted it, but could not get it considered, for it promised neither political influence, patronage, nor votes.

The next year I returned to Washington to try Congress again. I published a little pamphlet of two leaves addressed to the members and senators, to be laid upon their desks in the hope they would take the trouble to read so little as that, and be by so much the better prepared to consider and act upon a bill if I could get one before them. My strength failed before I could get that bill presented, and I went home again in midwinter. There then remained but a portion of the term of that administration, and I determined, if possible, to outlive it, hoping another would be more responsive. Meanwhile I wrote, talked, and did whatever I could to spread the idea among the people, and March, 1881, when the administration of President Garfield came in, I went again to Washington. The subject was very cordially received by the President and carefully referred by him to Secretary Blaine, who considered it himself, conferred fully with me, and finally laid it before the President and the cabinet. Perhaps the most satisfactory account of that transaction will be found in the letter of Mr. Blaine addressed to me, (see page 41), which gives the assurance that President Garfield would recommend the adoption of the treaty in his message to Congress.

What were the provisions of that treaty which had been so conspicuously and persistently neglected and apparently rejected by this whole government, whose people are as humane as any people in the world, and as ready to adopt plain and common sense provisions against evils sure to come upon themselves and those whom they hold most dear? It was merely the proposed adoption of a treaty by this government with other nations for the purpose of ameliorating the conditions incident to warfare, humanizing its regulations, softening its barbarities, and so far as possible, lessening the sufferings of the wounded and sick who fall by it. This treaty consists of a code of ten articles, formed and adopted by the International Convention of Geneva, Switzerland, held August 22, 1864, which convention was composed of delegates, two or more from each of the civilized nations of the world, and was called at the instance of the members of the Society of Public Utility of Switzerland.

The sittings of the convention occupied four days, and resulted, as before stated, in a code of ten articles, to be taken by the delegates there present, back to the governments of their respective countries for ratification. Four months were allowed for consideration and decision by the governments, and all acceding within that time were held as having signed at the convention. At the close of this period, it was found that twelve nations had endorsed the terms of the treaty and signed its articles. The protocol was left open for such as should follow. The articles of this treaty provide, as its first and most important feature, for the entire and strict neutrality of all material and supplies contributed by any nation for the use of the sick and wounded in war; also that persons engaged in the distribution of them, shall not be subject to capture; that all hospitals, general or field, shall be neutral, respected and protected by all belligerents; that all persons comprising the medical service, surgeons, chaplains, superintendents, shall be neutral, continuing their work after the occupation of a field or post the same as before, and when no longer needed be free to retire; that they may send a representative to their own headquarters if needful; that field hospitals shall retain their own equipments; that inhabitants of a country who entertain and care for the wounded of either side, in their houses, shall be protected; that the generals of an army shall so inform the people; that commanders-in-chief shall have the power to deliver immediately to the outposts of the enemy soldiers who have been wounded in an engagement, both parties consenting to the same; that the wounded, incapable of serving, shall be returned when healed; that all transports of wounded and all evacuations of posts or towns shall be protected by absolute neutrality. That the sick and wounded shall be entertained regardless of nationality; and that commanders-in-chief shall act in accordance with the instructions of their respective governments, and in conformity to the treaty. In order that all may understand, and no mistake be possible, it also provides that one uniform international flag shall mark all hospitals, all posts of sick and wounded, and one uniform badge or sign shall mark all hospital material, and be worn by all persons properly engaged in the hospital service of any nation included within the treaty; that this international flag and sign shall be a red cross on a white ground, and that the nations within the compact shall not cease their endeavors until every other nation capable of making war shall have signed this treaty, and thus acceded to the general principles of humanity in warfare recognized by other peoples.

Thirty-one governments have already signed this treaty, thirty-one nations are in this humane compact. The United States of America is not in it, and the work to which your attention is called, and which has occupied me for the last several years, is to induce her to place herself there.

This is what the Red Cross means, not an order of knighthood, not a commandery, not a secret society, not a society at all by itself, but the powerful, peaceful sign and the reducing to practical usefulness of one of the broadest and most needed humanities the world has ever known.

These articles, it will be observed, constitute at once a treaty governing our relations with foreign nations, and additional articles of war governing the conduct of our military forces in the field. As a treaty under the constitution, the President and Senate are competent to deal with them; as additional articles of war, Congress must sanction and adopt them before they can become effective and binding upon the government and the people. For this reason I have appealed to Congress as well as to the Executive Department.

On the breaking up of the original convention at Geneva, the practical work of organizing its principles into form and making them understood and adopted by the people, devolved upon seven men, mainly those who had been instrumental in calling it. These men were peculiarly fitted for this work by special training, enlarged views, and a comprehensive charity, no less than by practical insight, knowledge of the facts and needs of the situation, and a brave trust in the humane instincts of human nature. They are known to-day the world over as “The International Committee of Geneva for the relief of the sick and wounded in war.” This committee is international, and is the one medium through which all nations within the treaty transact business and carry on correspondence.

The first act of each nation subsequent to the treaty has been to establish a central society of its own, which of course is national, and which has general charge and direction of the work of its own country. Under these comes the establishment of local societies. It will be perceived that their system, aside from its international feature, is very nearly what our own war relief societies would have been had they retained permanent organizations. Indeed, it is believed that we furnished for their admirable system some very valuable ideas. The success of the Red Cross associations consists in their making their societies permanent, holding their organizations firm and intact, guarding their supplies, saving their property from waste, destruction and pillage, and making the persons in charge of the gifts of the people as strictly responsible for straightforward conduct and honest returns, as they would be for the personal property of an individual, a business firm, or a bank.

In attempting to present to the people of this country the plan of the Red Cross societies, it is proper to explain that originally and as operating in other countries they recognize only the miseries arising from war. Their humanities, although immense, are confined to this war centre. The treaty does not cover more than this, but the resolutions for the establishment of societies under the treaty, permit them to organize in accordance with the spirit and needs of their nationalities. By our geographical position and isolation we are far less liable to the disturbances of war than the nations of Europe, which are so frequently called upon that they do well to keep in readiness for the exigencies of war alone. But no country is more liable than our own to great overmastering calamities, various, widespread and terrible. Seldom a year passes that the nation from sea to sea is not, by the shock of some sudden, unforeseen disaster, brought to utter consternation, and stands shivering like a ship in a gale, powerless, horrified, and despairing. Plagues, cholera, fires, flood, famine, all bear upon us with terrible force. Like war these events are entirely out of the common course of woes and necessities. Like death they are sure to come in some form and at some time, and like it no mortal knows where, how or when.

What have we in readiness to meet these emergencies save the good heart of our people and their impulsive, generous gifts? Certainly no organized system for collection, reception nor distribution; no agents, nurses nor material, and, worst of all, no funds; nowhere any resources in reserve for use in such an hour of peril and national woe; every movement crude, confused and unsystematized, every thing as unprepared as if we had never known a calamity before and had no reason to expect one again.

Meanwhile the suffering victims wait! True, in the shock we bestow most generously, lavishly even. Men “on Change” plunge their hands into their pockets and throw their gold to strangers, who may have neither preparation nor fitness for the work they undertake, and often no guaranty for honesty. Women, in the terror and excitement of the moment and in their eagerness to aid, beg in the streets and rush into fairs, working day and night, to the neglect of other duties in the present, and at the peril of all health in the future—often an enormous outlay for very meagre returns. Thus our gifts fall far short of their best, being hastily bestowed, irresponsibly received and wastefully applied. We should not, even if to some degree we might, depend upon our ordinary charitable and church societies to meet these great catastrophes; they are always overtaxed. Our communities abound in charitable societies, but each has its specific object to which its resources are and must be applied; consequently they cannot be relied upon for prompt and abundant aid in a great and sudden emergency. This must necessarily be the case with all societies which organize to work for a specific charity. And this is as it should be; it is enough that they do constantly bestow.

Charity bears an open palm, to give is her mission. But I have never classed these Red Cross societies with charities, I have rather considered them as a wise national provision which seeks to garner and store up something against an hour of sudden need. In all our land we have not one organization of this nature and which acts upon the system of conserved resources. Our people have been more wise and thoughtful in the establishment of means for preventing and arresting the destruction of property than the destruction of human life and the lessening of consequent suffering. They have provided and maintain at an immense cost, in the aggregate, a system of fire departments with their expensive buildings and apparatus, with their fine horses and strong men kept constantly in readiness to dash to the rescue at the first dread clang of the fire bell. Still, while the electric current may flash upon us at any moment its ill tidings of some great human distress, we have no means of relief in readiness such as these Red Cross societies would furnish.

I beg you will not feel that in the presentation of this plan of action I seek to add to the labors of the people. On the contrary, I am striving to lessen them by making previous, calm preparation do away with the strain and confusion of unexpected necessities and haste. I am providing not weariness, but rest.

And, again, I would not be understood as suggesting the raising of more moneys for charitable purposes; rather I am trying to save the people’s means, to economize their charities, to make their gifts do more by the prevention of needless waste and extravagance. If I thought that the formation of these societies would add a burden to our people I would be the last to advocate it. I would not, however, yield the fact of the treaty. For patriotism, for national honor, I would stand by that at all cost. My first and greatest endeavor has been to wipe from the scroll of my country’s fame the stain of imputed lack of common humanity, to take her out of the roll of barbarism. I said that in 1869 there were twenty-two nations in the compact. There are now thirty-one, for since that date have been added Roumania, Persia, San Salvador, Montenegro, Servia, Bolivia, Chili, Argentine Republic and Peru. If the United States of America is fortunate and diligent she may, perhaps, come to stand No. 32 in the roll of civilization and humanity. If not, she will remain where she at present stands, among the barbarians and the heathen.

In considering this condition of things it seemed desirable to so extend the original design of the Red Cross societies operating in other lands as to include not only suffering by war, but by pestilence, famine, fires or floods—in short, any unlooked-for calamity so great as to place it beyond the means of ordinary local charity, and which by public opinion would be pronounced a national calamity; but that this addition should in no way impair the original functions of the society, and that for their own well being they should be held firm by the distinguishing feature of the international constitution, which provides that local societies shall not act except upon orders from the National Association, which is charged with the duty of being so fully informed upon all such subjects, both at home and abroad, as to constitute it the most competent judge of the magnitude and gravity of any catastrophe.

During all these years no societies under the true banner of the Red Cross of Geneva were or could be organized, for the government had not yet ratified the treaty and no department of the government had then intimated that it ever would be ratified. It could not be a responsible or quite an honest movement on my part to proceed to the formation of societies to act under and in conformity to a treaty of special character so long as our government recognized no such treaty and I could get no assurance that it ever would or indeed could recognize it.

But this delay in the formation of societies, however embarrassing, was in no manner able to interfere with the general plan, or the working details for its operations, which had been arranged and decided upon before the presentation of the subject to the government in 1877, and published in pamphlet form in 1878, making it to cover, as it now does, the entire field of national relief for great national woes and calamities in time of peace, no less than in war. The wise provisions, careful preparations and thorough system which had been found so efficient in the permanent societies of the Red Cross in other countries, could not fail, I thought, to constitute both a useful and powerful system of relief in any class of disasters. I therefore ventured so far upon the generous spirit of their original resolutions in the plan of our societies as, mechanically speaking, to attach to this vast motor power the extra and hitherto dead weight of our great national calamities, in order that the same force should apply to all and serve to lighten I hoped, so far as possible, not only the woes of those directly called to suffer, but the burdens on the hearts and hands of those called to sympathize with their sufferings.

The time allowed for the practical test of this experiment has been short. Scarcely three months in which to organize and act, but the brave societies of the Red Cross of western New York, at this moment standing so nobly among their flame-stricken neighbors of Michigan— so generously responding to their calls for help, are quite sufficient I believe to show what the action and results of this combined system will be when recognized and inaugurated.

It may be said that this treaty jeopardizes our traditional policy, which jealously guards against entangling alliances abroad; that as we are exempt by our geographical position from occasions for war this treaty must bring us not benefits but only burdens from other people’s calamities and wars—calamities and wars which we do not create and of which we may properly reap the incidental advantages. But this treaty binds none to bear burdens, but only to refrain from cruelties; it binds not to give but to allow others to give wisely and to work humanely if they will, while all shall guarantee to them undisturbed activity in deeds of charity. There is then in the Red Cross no “entangling alliance” that any but a barbarian at war can feel as a restraint. This inculcated wariness of foreign influences, wonderfully freshened by the conduct of foreign rulers and writers during the rebellion and deepened by the crimes and the craft directed primarily at Mexico and ultimately at us, made the people of America in 1864 and 1868 devoutly thankful for the friendly and stormy sea that rolled between them and the European states. And it is not perhaps altogether strange that American statesmen, inspired by such a public opinion, should then have been but little inclined to look with favor upon any new international obligations however specious in appearance or humane in fact. But the award of Geneva surely opened the way for the Red Cross of Geneva. Time and success have made plain the nation’s path. The postal treaty since made among all nations and entered into heartily by this has proved salutary to all. It has removed every valid state reason for opposition to the harmless, humane and peaceful provisions of the treaty of the Red Cross.

But in the midst of the rugged facts of war come sentimental objections and objectors. For, deplore it as we may, war is the great fact of all history and its most pitiable feature is not after all so much the great numbers slain, wounded and captured in battle, as their cruel after treatment as wounded and prisoners, no adequate provision being made for their necessities, no humane care even permitted, except at the risk of death or imprisonment as spies, of those moved by wise pity or a simple religious zeal.

Among these hard facts appears a conscientious theorist and asks, Is not war a great sin and wrong? Ought we to provide for it, to make it easy, to lessen its horrors, to mitigate its sufferings? Shall we not in this way encourage rulers and peoples to engage in war for slight and fancied grievances?

We provide for the victims of the great wrong and sin of intemperance. These are for the most part voluntary victims, each in a measure the arbiter of his own fate. The soldier has generally no part, no voice, in creating the war in which he fights. He simply obeys as he must his superiors and the laws of his country. Yes, it is a great wrong and sin, and for that reason I would provide not only for, but against it.

But here comes the speculative theorist! Isn’t it encouraging a bad principle; wouldn’t it be better to do away with all war? Wouldn’t peace societies be better? Oh, yes, my friend, as much better as the millennium would be better than this, but it is not here. Hard facts are here; war is here; war is the outgrowth, indicator and relic of barbarism. Civilization alone will do away with it, and scarcely a quarter of the earth is yet civilized, and that quarter not beyond the possibilities of war. It is a long step yet to permanent peace. We cannot cross a stream until we reach it. The sober truth is, we are called to deal with facts, not theories; we must practice if we would teach. And be assured, my friends, there is not a peace society on the face of the earth to-day, nor ever will be, so potent, so effectual against war as the Red Cross of Geneva.

The sooner the world learns that the halo of glory which surrounds a field of battle and its tortured, thirsting, starving, pain-racked, dying victims exists only in imagination; that it is all sentiment, delusion, falsehood, given for effect; that soldiers do not die painless deaths; that the sum of all human agony finds its equivalent on the battlefield, in the hospital, by the weary wayside and in the prison; that, deck it as you will, it is agony; the sooner and more thoroughly the people of the earth are brought to realize and appreciate these facts, the more slow and considerate they will be about rushing into hasty and needless wars, and the less popular war will become.

Death by the bullet painless! What did this nation do during eighty agonizing and memorable days but to watch the effects of one bullet wound? Was it painless? Painless either to the victim or the nation? Though canopied by a fortitude, patience, faith and courage scarce exceeded in the annals of history, still was it agony. And when in his delirious dreams the dying President murmured, “The great heart of the nation will not let the soldier die,” I prayed God to hasten the time when every wounded soldier would be sustained by this sweet assurance; that in the combined sympathies, wisdom, enlightenment and power of the nations, he should indeed feel that the great heart of the people would not let the soldier die.

Friends, was it accident, or was it providence which made it one of the last acts of James A. Garfield in health to pledge himself to urge upon the representatives of his people in Congress assembled, this great national step for the relief and care of wounded men? Living or dying it was his act and his wish, and no member in that honored, considerate and humane body but will feel himself in some manner holden to see it carried out.

The president of the American Red Cross, Clara Barton, in November, 1881, laid before President Arthur the matter of the Treaty of Geneva, and the unfulfilled desire of President Garfield that the United States should give its adhesion to that international compact. To this President Arthur gave a cordial and favorable response, and made good his words by the following paragraph in his first annual message, sent to the forty-seventh Congress:

This part of the message was immediately taken up in the Senate and referred to the Committee on Foreign Relations, consisting of the following named gentlemen, to wit: William Windom, Minnesota; George F. Edmunds, Vermont; John T. Miller, California; Thomas W. Ferry, Michigan; Elbridge G. Lapham, New York; John W. Johnston, Virginia; J.T. Morgan, Alabama; George H. Pendleton, Ohio; Benjamin H. Hill, Georgia.

During the consideration of the subject an invitation was extended to the president of the American Association, its counsel and other associate members to meet the above named Senate Committee at the capitol, for conference, and for an explanation of such points as still remained obscure, to aid their deliberations, and to facilitate investigations.

On the seventeenth of May, 1881, Hon. Omar D. Conger submitted to the United States Senate the following resolution, which was considered by unanimous consent and agreed to:

On the twelfth of December, 1881, in response to the above resolution, President Arthur addressed to the Senate a message transmitting a report of the Secretary of State, with accompanying papers, touching the Geneva convention for the relief of the wounded in war, which message, report and accompanying papers were as follows:

The governments of North Germany, Austria, Baden, Bavaria, Belgium, Denmark, France, Great Britain, Italy, the Netherlands, Sweden and Norway, Switzerland, Turkey and Würtemberg, desiring to extend to armies on the sea the advantages of the convention concluded at Geneva the twenty-second of August, 1864, for the amelioration of the condition of wounded soldiers in armies in the field, and to further particularize some of the stipulations of the said convention, proposed and signed the following additional articles:

Additional Articles to the Convention of Geneva of the twenty-second August, 1864, signed at Geneva the twentieth of October, 1868.

On the first day of March, 1882, the President, by his signature, gave the accession of the United States to the Treaty of Geneva of August 22, 1864, and also to that of October 20, 1868, and transmitted to the Senate the following message, declaration, and proposed adoption of the same:

The same day the president of the American Association sent by cablegram to President Moynier, of the International Committee at Geneva, the glad tidings that the United States had at last joined in the great humane work of the world by ratifying the treaties of the Red Cross; and on the twenty-fourth of the same month, President Moynier replied as follows:

The requirements contained in the foregoing letter, in regard to the recognition of the American Association of the Red Cross, were fully and generously complied with by the various branches of the Government of the United States, and the documents conveying the official recognition were transmitted by the Honorable Secretary of State to the American consul at Geneva, with instructions to deliver them to the International Committee.

The following is the proclamation by President Arthur announcing to the people the adoption by the United States of the Treaty of Geneva, and the Additional Articles concerning the Navy:

By the President of the United States of America:

Thus was the American branch of the Red Cross welcomed into the fellowship of kindred associations in thirty-one other nations, the most prosperous and civilized on the globe, its position assured, and its future course made simple, direct and untroubled.

The official bulletin of the International Committee also hailed the accession of the United States to the treaty, in an article of characteristic caution and of great significance. In that article, which is quoted in full hereafter, the distinction was carefully pointed out between that which had already been fully agreed to, and had become invested with all the force and solemnity of international treaties, and the proposed amendment which had been drawn up and considered with a view to ultimate adoption. This proposed amendment had received the sanction and signatures of the International Committee at Geneva, without ever having been formally adopted by any nation. The United States had, at the same moment adopted both, thus becoming the thirty-second nation to adhere to the treaty of August 22, 1864, and the first to adopt the proposed amendment of October 20, 1868.

The action of the United States, mentioned in this article, was perhaps somewhat characteristic. It seemed to give itself to the movement of the Red Cross with a gracious earnestness seldom seen in the cautious forms of diplomatic action, and it certainty was in very decided contrast with its former hesitancy.

No doubt could now rest in any mind that the adhesion of the United States was, at last, hearty and sincere, and calculated to allay any distrust which its former isolation and declination of the treaty might have anywhere engendered.

This action of the Government of the United States also rendered the position of the National Association exceptionally satisfactory, and introduced it to the International Committee at Geneva and all the affiliated societies under circumstances calculated to promote in the greatest degree its usefulness and harmony, and to add to the gratification of all who personally have any part in the operations of the American Association.

For all this it is indebted to the judicious and thoughtful care and exalted statesmanship of the President of the United States, his cabinet and advisers, and the members of the Forty-seventh Congress, who, without one breath of criticism, or one moment of delay, after they came to fully understand the subject and comprehend its purposes and object, granted all that was then asked of them, in the adhesion to the treaties, in the recognition of the National Association, and the provisions for printing and disseminating a knowledge of its principles and practical work.

Perhaps no act of this age or country has reflected more credit abroad upon those specially active in it, than this simple and beneficent measure. It must, in its great and humane principles, its far-reaching philanthropy, its innovations upon the long established and accepted customs and rules of barbaric cruelty, its wise practical charity, stand forever next to the immortal proclamation of freedom to the slaves that crowns the name of Abraham Lincoln.

Special thanks are peculiarly due to those who have been its active, wise and unwavering friends, who have planned its course so truly, and set forth its purposes so clearly, that it will hereafter be misunderstood only by those who are unwilling to learn, or who are actively hostile to its beneficent aims.

Perhaps at the risk of seeming invidious—for we would by no means ignore, and have no less gratitude for the legion of generous helpers we cannot name—we might state that among those who have been foremost to aid and encourage us have been the Hon. Omar D. Conger, of Michigan, who, first in the House, and afterward in the Senate, has been conspicuous for persistent and courageous work; also, Hon. William Windom, of Minnesota, Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, who was first to investigate and take the matter up as a member of President Garfield’s cabinet; Senator E.P. Lapham, of New York, who has spared neither time nor thought, patience nor labor, in his legal investigations of the whole matter; and probably no person has done more than he to throw light upon obscure parts and point out the true and proper course to be pursued in the accomplishment of the work, and the acceptance of the treaty. Senators Morgan, of Alabama; Edmunds, of Vermont; Hawley, of Connecticut; Anthony, of Rhode Island; Hoar, of Massachusetts, all accorded to it their willing interest and aid. Indeed, all sections and parties have seemed eager to help the Red Cross; a result that might, perhaps, have been anticipated, since it asks only an opportunity to faithfully work according to methods approved by thoughtful experience, and toward ends that all humane persons must approve.

To the American newspaper press, and perhaps to the New York Herald more than to any other newspaper, through its international character, wonderful enterprise, and far-reaching circulation, the Red Cross is indebted for timely aid and noble furtherance of its objects and aims. It has been quick to discern their substantial character, and generous and full in commending them. Still, the same difficulty confronts us in regard to publications as persons—where all have been so willing it is difficult to distinguish. Not less than three hundred periodicals and papers have, within the last two years, laid upon our desk their graceful tribute of encouraging and fitly spoken words, and it has been given as an estimate of an experienced city editor, gathered through his exchanges, that over five hundred editorial notices were given of our little Red Cross book of last year, and these, invariably, so far as met our eyes, kindly approving and encouraging. The capacity of the Red Cross to carry on most wisely and well its beneficent work must in the future, as it has done in the past, depend largely upon the active and cordial co-operation of the newspaper press; and we do not doubt that it will continue to receive the same prompt and efficient assistance so long as it shall continue to deserve it.

By the combined assistance of all these powerful friends of the Red Cross, the country has at last been rescued from the position in which it had been standing for the last seventeen years—a puzzling wonder to its admiring friends, a baffling enigma to all, treating its enemies subdued with romantic generosity, and its enemies taken captive in war with all the tenderness of friends, and yet, clinging, apparently with intense fierceness, to an unsocial isolation, to savage rules and regulations of war that only barbarians would ever wish to practice, pouring out its beneficence in astonishing prodigality, and in untold volume, variety and value upon strangers, and yet seemingly hesitating only when it was proposed by international law and system to use and not waste its magnificent voluntary offerings, but to entrust them all to responsible agents, trained in the very torrent and tempest of battle, to wisely apply this generosity to the great and awful needs of war—agents held to business rules, with calm accountability amid distraction and panic, trained to protect material, to give and take receipts, and at last to account faithfully for everything entrusted to them, like the officers of a well-regulated bank.

The final adhesion of the United States to the treaty of the Red Cross has created a lively sense of satisfaction in all its affiliated societies wherever, throughout the world, its beneficent work is carried on; particularly, by the International Committee of Geneva, has this wise and simple act of beneficence and common sense and common humanity been regarded with sentiments of gratitude and renewed hope. The American National Association has received the following expression of the sentiments of the noble and philanthropic president of the International Committee, written upon the receipt from the United States of the official documents of recognition:

The circular alluded to in this letter of M. Moynier announces the adhesion of the United States to the great international compact of the Red Cross, and authenticates and opens the way for the voluntary action of the people and the government in international humanitarian action, through the medium of the American Association of the Red Cross, and is in the following terms:

The foregoing pages deal only with the official history of the Red Cross and its inauguration in this country, closing with the accession of the United States to the Treaty and its promulgation in 1882. The original formation of the Red Cross was had previous to the adoption of the Treaty by the government, and, indeed, primarily for that very purpose. That was the corner-stone upon which rested the entire structure of the Red Cross in America at that date, and constituted almost entirely the work undertaken by it to perform.

During the first ten years of the existence of the organization it had accomplished all that had been promised, and a great deal more; and had proved the utility of its work on almost continuous fields of national calamity of the character defined in the “American Amendment” to the Treaty. But the American government had not given the Red Cross the official recognition that it desired and was entitled to; and it could not take its appropriate place by the government of which it was so eminently a part. As long as government provides for war, so long must it recognize its adopted twin sister of peace, the Red Cross; as long as it finds it necessary to deliberately mutilate men, so long should it take part in healing them.

In order to strengthen the organization, and make its influence more widely felt, the members decided to adopt a plan that would enable them to work on a somewhat broader basis; accordingly, on April 17, 1893, the Red Cross was reincorporated and has continued its labors up to the present time under the provisions of the instrument a copy of which follows:

Immediately following our accession to the Treaty of Geneva, March 1, 1882, the president of the Red Cross was asked by the Committee on Foreign Relations of the Senate, to prepare a history of the Red Cross for publication by them through the government printing office. This was done, and a book of two hundred and twenty-seven pages was issued, giving an account of the origin of the organization, the steps by which it became a treaty, of our own initiation, and not only the exact text by which our accession was made, but that of every other nation within the treaty up to that time, 1882.

A bill for a reprint by Congress of fifty thousand copies of this book was lost in the session of 1898 through lack of time.

No consecutive book has been published by us since that date, but the history has been perhaps even more fully told, and that scores of times, in public addresses which its president and assistants have been called to make before great assemblies, selections from some of which will appear in this volume, as the fullest information given in the most compact manner that we can render in the short space of time allotted us.

The very title of the organization, viz.: “Relief in War,” has been a misnomer, and through all the early years especially was very generally misunderstood by the public. I have not unfrequently been invited and innocently urged to attend peace meetings and large charity gatherings for the poor and afflicted on the ground of needing instruction myself; inasmuch as I “was engaged in advocating war, wouldn’t it be well to hear something on the other side?” And I have been invited to become party to a discussion in which the merits of peace and war should be compared.

Large organizations of women, the best in the country, and, I believe, the best in the world, have faithfully labored with me to merge the Red Cross into their society as a part of woman’s work; without the smallest conception or realization of its scope, its international character, its treaty obligations, and the official ground it was liable at any time to be called to occupy.

Many charming invitations, from ladies even more charming, to address their convention or meeting, have still contained some well chosen word which might imply a question, if indeed the Red Cross really were the humane and philanthropic institution it claimed to be; naturally the address usually dealt with the question as it was put.

I name these facts as mere relics of the past, amusing now, but instructive to you of the present day (when no child even questions the motives of the Red Cross), as showing what it had to meet and live through in order to live at all.

In order to show the enthusiastic devotees of the present year how questionable the beneficence of the Red Cross appeared to the best people only a few years ago, I introduce the following address, read, by request, before a congress of women, 1895 or 1896, hoping that the charitably disposed reader will understand and appreciate the state of mind engendered by the title of the request made, and forgive any seeming acerbity:

I am asked to say something upon the “Significance of the Red Cross in its Relation to Philanthropy.” I am not sure that I understand precisely what is desired.

If a morning paper should announce that three or four of the greatest political bosses or greatest railroad kings in the country had quietly met somewhere, and sat with closed doors till long after midnight, and then silently departed, people would ask, “What is the significance of that? What mischief have they been devising in secret?” In that sense of the word, significance—which is a very common one—the Red Cross has none that I ever heard of. It has no rich offices to bestow, no favorites to reward, no enemies to punish. It has no secrets to keep, no mystic word or sign. Its proceedings would, and do, make a valuable library, accessible to all men and all women from Norway to New Zealand.

I will not say that it is so simple and common in character that he who runs may read, but surely she who desires information can sit down, read and obtain it. The Red Cross has been quietly doing its work for thirty years and is now established in forty independent nations. No other institution on earth, not even Christianity, has a public recognition so nearly universal. None has ever adhered more closely to its one single purpose of alleviating human suffering. Has that any significance or any connection with philanthropy? Let us see.

An institution or reform movement that is not selfish, must originate in the recognition of some evil that is adding to the sum of human suffering, or diminishing the sum of happiness. I suppose it is a philanthropic movement to try to reverse the process. Christianity, temperance and sanitary regulations in general are examples. Great evils die hard; and all that has yet been done is to keep them within as narrow limits as possible. Of these great evils, war is one. War is in its very nature cruel—the very embodiment of cruelty in its effects—not necessarily in the hearts of the combatants. Baron Macaulay thought it not a mitigation but an aggravation of the evil, that men of tender culture and humane feelings, with no ill will, should stand up and kill each other. But men do not go to war to save life. They might save life by keeping the peace and staying at home. They go solely with intent to inflict so much pain, loss and disaster on the enemy that he will yield to their terms. All their powers to hurt are focused upon him.

In a moving army the elements of destruction, armed men and munitions of war, have the right of way; and the means of preserving and sustaining even their own lives are left to bring up the rear as they best can. Hence, when the shock and crash of battle is over, and troops are advancing or retreating and all roads are blocked, and the medical staff trying to force its way through with supplies, prompt and adequate relief can scarcely ever reach the wounded. The darkness of night comes down upon them like a funeral pall, as they lie in their blood, tortured with thirst and traumatic fever. The memory of such scenes set a kindly Swiss gentleman to thinking of ways and means for alleviating their horrors. In time, and by efforts whose history must be familiar to many of you, there resulted the Geneva Convention for the relief of the sick and wounded of armies. I shall not trace its history, as it seems to be more to the present purpose to explain briefly what it proposed to do, and how it proceeded to do it.

The convention found two prime evils to consider. First, the existence of war itself; second, the vast amount of needless cruelty it inflicted upon its victims. For the first of these, with the world full of standing armies, every boundary line of nations fixed and held by the sword, and the traditions of four thousand years behind its customs, the framers of the convention, however earnest and devoted, could scarcely hope to find an immediate, if indeed, a perceptible mitigation. Only time, prolonged effort, national economics, universal progress and the pressure of public opinion could ever hope to grapple with this monster evil of the ages.

But the second—if it were not possible to dispense with the needless cruelties heretofore inflicted upon the victims of war, thus relieving human misery to that extent, seemed to the framers of the convention a reasonable question to be considered. This is what it proposed to do. A few sentences will explain how it proceeded to do it.

A convention was called at Geneva, Switzerland, for the fourth of August, 1864, to be composed of delegates accredited by the heads of the governments of the world, who should discuss the practices of war and ascertain to what extent the restraints of the established military code in its dealing with the sick and wounded of armies were needful for the benefit of the service; and to what extent they were needless, of benefit to no one, causing only suffering, of no strength to the service, and might be done away with; and to what extent war-making powers could agree to enter into a legal compact to that end. The consideration, discussion and concessions of two weeks produced a proposed agreement which took the form of a compound treaty, viz: A treaty of one government with many governments—the first ever made—a compact known as the Treaty of Geneva, for the relief of the sick and wounded in war.

Its basis was neutrality. It made neutral all sick, wounded, or disabled soldiers at a field; all persons, as surgeons, nurses and attendants, who cared for them; all supplies of medicine or food for their use; all field and military hospitals with their equipments; all gifts from neutral nations for the use of the sick and wounded of any army; all houses near a battlefield that would receive and nurse wounded men: none of these should be subject to capture. It provided for the sending of wounded men to their homes, rather than to prison; that friend and foe should be nursed together and alike in all military hospitals; and, most of all, that the people who had always been forcibly restrained from approaching any field of action for purposes of relief, however needed (with the single exception of our Sanitary Commission, and that under great difficulties and often under protest) should not only be allowed this privilege, but should arm and equip themselves with relief of all kinds, with the right to enter the lines for the helpless; thus relieving not alone the wounded and dying, but the armies of their care.

It provided a universal sign by which all this relief, both of persons and material, should be designated and known. A Greek red cross on a field of white should tell any soldier of any country within the treaty that the wearer was his friend and could be trusted; and to any officer of any army that he was legitimately there and not subject to capture.

Some forty nations are in that treaty, and from every military hospital in every one of these nations floats the same flag; and every active soldier in all their armies knows that he can neither capture nor harm the shelter beneath it, though it be but a little “A” tent in the enemy’s lines, and every disabled man knows it is his rescue and his home.

It may be interesting to know the formula of this compact. It recognizes one head, the International Committee of Geneva, Switzerland, through which all communications are made. One national head in each country which receives such communications, transmitting them to its government. The ratifying power of the treaty is the Congress of Berne. The organization in each nation receives from its government its high moral sanction and recognition, but is in no way supported or materially aided by it. The Red Cross means not national aid for the needs of the people, but the people’s aid for the needs of the nation. The awakening patriotism of the last few years should, I think, make this feature more readily apprehended.

As the foreign nations furnish the only illustrations of the value and material aid of the Red Cross in war, let us glance at what it has accomplished.

The first important war after the birth of the Treaty of Geneva, was between Germany, Italy and Austria. Austria had not, at that time, entered the treaty, and yet its objects were understood and its spirit found a responsive chord in the hearts of the people. Over $400,000, beside a great amount of material, were collected by that country, and made use of for the relief of the combatants. Italy was fairly well organized and rendered excellent service, furnishing much substantial assistance. Germany, which was in the vanguard of the treaty nations, was thoroughly organized and equipped. She was the first to demonstrate the true idea of the Red Cross—people’s aid for national, for military, necessity. Great storehouses had been provided at central points, where vast supplies were collected. In an incredibly short time, between $3,000,000 and $4,000,000 were raised for relief purposes, and large numbers of volunteers came to help the already organized corps of workers. Great trains of supplies were sent to the front. The wounded enemy was tenderly cared for, and everything was accomplished so well and so systematically, that it proved the incalculable value of organized, authorized, civil aid. French and Swiss Red Cross workers also rendered great assistance, this being the first instance of neutrals taking an active part.

In the Franco-Prussian War the German Red Cross performed even better service, it having learned many valuable lessons in the German-Austrian conflict, and through their efforts an infinite amount of good was accomplished and great suffering averted. Not only were the wounded and sick soldiers tenderly cared for, but the unprovided families of soldiers were also supplied. The French Red Cross at the breaking out of the war was poorly organized and penniless. Within one month, however, hospitals had been established, ambulances and a large amount of field supplies were at the front, with a considerable relief force to care for the sick and wounded. The French Association, not including the branches in the provinces, spent over $2,000,000 and assisted 110,000 wounded. Many neutral Red Cross nations assisted in rendering aid and relief in this great war. England alone sent a million and a half dollars, besides twelve hundred cases of stores. Eighty-five thousand sick, wounded and famishing French soldiers entered Switzerland, and were cared for by the Central Committee at Berne. The International Committee at Geneva, in one instance, asked for and obtained 2500 seriously wounded French soldiers, supplied their wants, and sent them to their own country.

In the great Russo-Turkish War, the Red Cross of Russia, splendidly equipped, with ample means and royal patronage, was, at the beginning of hostilities, greatly hampered by the jealousy of the military. The relief organizations were assigned places well in the rear; but ere many months had passed the military surgeons gladly accepted the Red Cross aid, and colossal work did it perform. Over $13,000,000 were raised, and all that was necessary spent in supplying relief. The neutral Red Cross countries furnished valuable assistance in this war also.

In the recent war between Japan and China, you undoubtedly read of the wonderful work performed by the Japanese Red Cross. This society followed the precedent of Germany, in tenderly caring for the wounded enemy, even though fighting against a nation not in the treaty. Japan had a cruel, merciless enemy to fight, and yet her soldiers were instructed to have respect even for a dead enemy.

It is needless to give further illustrations; history records the wonderful achievements of this greatest of relief organizations, though it cannot record the untold suffering which has been averted by it.

Is the Red Cross a humanitarian organization? What is the significance of the Red Cross? I leave these two questions for you to answer.

But war, although the most tragic, is not the only evil that assails humanity. War has occurred in the United States four times in one hundred and twenty years. Four times its men have armed and marched, and its women waited and wept. That is on an average of one war every thirty years. It is now a little over thirty years since the last hostile gun was fired; we fondly hope it may be many years before there is another. A machine, even a human machine, called into active service only once in thirty years is liable to get out of working order; hence to keep it in condition for use, no less than for the possible good it might do, the American Society of the Red Cross asked to have included in its charter the privilege of rendering such aid as it could in great public calamities, as fires, floods, cyclones, famines and pestilence.

In a time of profound peace that has been the only possible field of activity. It is not for me to say whether that field has been successfully cultivated, but a few of the facts will determine whether the innovation upon the treaty will commend itself to your judgment, as it has to those of the older societies of Europe.

Naturally it required not only diplomacy but arguments to obtain a privilege never before officially considered in the unbroken customs of an international treaty. They must be submitted to a foreign congress. The same argument pertained fifteen years ago that pertains to-day, namely, that in all our vast territory, subject to incalculable disasters, with all our charitable, humane and benevolent associations, there was not one which had for its object and duty to hold itself in preparation and training to meet and relieve the woes of these overmastering disasters. All would gladly aid, but there were none to lead. Everybody’s business was nobody’s business, and the stricken victims perished.

We asked that under the Red Cross Constitution of the United States its national organization should be permitted to act in the capacity of Red Cross relief agents, treating a national disaster like a field of battle, proceed to it at once with experienced help, equipped with all the needful supplies and means to commence relief, overlook and learn the needs of the field, make immediate statements of the true condition and wants to the people of the country, who, knowing the presence of the Red Cross there, could, if desirable, make it the medium of their contributions for relief either in money or material. To relieve the necessities in every way possible, keep the people at large in possession of reliable information, hold the field until relief has been given, and retire when all needed aid has been rendered. This privilege was graciously granted by the ratifying Congress at Berne, and is known as the “American amendment” of the Red Cross. Nations since that date, on becoming signatory to the treaty, have included that amendment in their charters.

This is the principle upon which we have acted. The affording of relief to the victims of great disasters anywhere in the United States, is what the National Red Cross has proceeded to do, and it has confined itself strictly to its privileges, acting only in disasters so great as to be national. It never asks aid; never makes an appeal; it simply makes statements of the real condition of the sufferers, leaving the people free to exercise their own humanity through any medium they may prefer.

In the thirteen years of relief work by the Red Cross in the United States, every dollar and every pound that has been received and distributed by it, has been the free-will offering of the people, given for humanity without solicitation, and dispensed without reward. It has received nothing from the government. No fund has been created for it. No contributions have been made except those to be distributed as relief at its fields. Its officers serve without pay. There is not, nor ever was, a salaried officer in it, and even its headquarters meets its own costs. Among the various appropriations made by Congress for relief of calamities in the past years, as in great river floods, not a dollar so appropriated has ever been applied through the Red Cross, although working on the same field. I name these facts, not by way of complaint, or even comment, but to correct popular errors of belief, which I know you would prefer to have corrected. True to its method, this is simply a statement of the real condition of things, and left to the choice of the people—the Red Cross itself is theirs, created for them, and it is peculiarly their privilege to deal with it as they will.

The following list of calamities with the approximate value of material furnished, as well as money, will give you some appreciation of the services rendered in the cause of humanity by the American National Red Cross. Limit of time and space forbids even an attempt at description of its various fields. I can only name the most important, with estimated values distributed on each:

Only about one-eighth of the above estimates represent cash; the balance represents material.

In each of these emergencies something has been added to the sum of human happiness, something subtracted from the sum of human woe; the naked have been clothed, the hungry fed, new homes have sprung up from the desolated ruins, crops revived, and activities and business relations resumed. In a neighboring State and its adjacent islands scarcely two hundred miles distant from this, could to-day be found several thousand human beings, living in their homes, enjoying their family lives, following their ordinary avocations, cultivating the ground, who, if asked, would unhesitatingly tell you that but for the help of the Red Cross, they would two years ago have been under the ground they now cultivate.

If the alleviation of human miseries, the saving of life, and the bringing of helplessness and dependence back to methods of self-sustenance and independence are counted among the philanthropic movements of the day, then to us, who have seen so much and worked so long and so hard among it, it would seem that the Red Cross movement has some “significance” in connection with philanthropy.

There remains but one question more. To whom is this movement due? Who instituted it? In what minds did it originate? I wish I could say it was all woman’s work; but the truth compels the fact that this great, humane idea originated with men; the movement was instituted by them. They thought it out, and they wrought it out, and it was only meet and proper that they should, for the terrible evil that made it necessary was theirs as well. Women as a rule are not war-makers. For centuries the caprices of men have plunged the world in strife, covered the earth’s surface with armies, and enriched its soil with the best blood that ever flowed in human veins. It is only right that at length, in the cycle of ages, something should touch man’s heart and set him humbly down to find out some way of mending as much of his mischief as he could. Perhaps he “builded better than he knew,” for in that one effort he touched the spring that sooner or later will mend it all. No grander or truer prophecy has ever been made than uttered in that first convention: “The Red Cross shall teach war to make war upon itself.” It is the most practical and effective peace-maker and civilizer in the known world. It reaches where nothing else can. If proof of this be wanting, study the action of Japan in its late war.

But is man doing this work alone? No—gladly, no! Scarcely had he made his first move, when the jeweled hands of royal woman glistened beside him, and right royally have they borne their part. Glance at the galaxy—the great leader and exemplar of them all, Empress Augusta of Germany, her illustrious daughter, the Grand Duchess of Baden, Eugenia, Empress Frederick, Victoria and Princess Louise of England, Margherita of Italy, Natalia of Servia and the entire Court of Russia, and to-day the present Empress of Germany, and the hard-working Empress of Japan, with her faithful, weary court, even now busy in the hospitals of convalescing Chinese. The various auxiliary societies of women of all the principal Red Cross nations are a pride and a glory to humanity.

These nations have all two important features in their movement, which, thus far, have not been accorded to us. Their governments have instituted laws protecting the insignia and name of the Red Cross from misuse and abuse as trademarks by unscrupulous venders, and appropriation by false societies for dishonest purposes. This lack, and this alone, has thus far rendered general organization in the United States impracticable and unsafe. For seven years the most strenuous efforts at protection have failed; the loss has been to the people in general.

The second advantage of other nations is that citizens, the men of wealth in those countries, have created a Red Cross fund for its use, varying in amounts from a hundred thousand to several millions of dollars. Russia, I believe, has a fund of some three millions. It seems never to have occurred to our wealth-burdened men that possibly a little satisfaction might be gained, some good accomplished, and some credit done the nation by a step in that direction. It will dawn upon them some day, not, perhaps, in mine, but in some of yours, and then, ladies, you can well join hands with them, and discern more clearly than now the “significance of the Red Cross as related to philanthropy.”

 It may be necessary to recall to the mind of the person reading these pages hastily, the fact that the National Red Cross of America was formed nearly a year before the accession to the treaty. This was done by the advice of President Garfield, in order to aid as far as possible the accession. “Accordingly a meeting was held in Washington, D.C., May 21, 1881, which resulted in the formation of an association to be known as the American National Association of the Red Cross.”

Several years of previous illness on the part of its president had resulted in fixing her country home at Dansville, N.Y., the seat of the great Jackson and Austin Sanitarium and the acknowledged foundation of the hundreds of health institutions of that kind which bless the country to-day. The establishment of the National Red Cross in Washington had attracted the attention of persons outside, who, of course, knew very little of it; but among others, the people of Dansville, the home of the president, felt that if she were engaged in some public movement, they too might at least offer to aid. Accordingly, on her return to them in midsummer, they waited upon her with a request to that effect, which resulted in the formation of a society of the Red Cross, this being the first body in aid of the National Association formed in the United States. It is possible I cannot make that more clear than by giving an extract from their report of that date, which was as follows:

Almost immediately following this occurred the memorable forest fires of Michigan, which raged for days, sweeping everything before them—man, beast, forests, farms—every living thing, until in one report made of it we find this sentence: “So sweeping has been the destruction that there is not food left in its track for a rabbit to eat, and, indeed, no rabbit to eat it, if there were.” Here occurred the first opportunity for work that the young society had found, and again I give without further note their report:

The neighboring city of Rochester, forty miles to the north of Dansville, hearing of the activity of its smaller neighbor in the great disaster that was paralyzing all, desired also to unite in the work and knowing much less even than Dansville of what the Red Cross might mean, still desired to act with it, if possible; and appended herewith will be found their report, which will best tell their story.

Following close on the organization in Rochester, the citizens of the sister city of Syracuse and vicinity, in Onondaga County, N.Y., met at the Board of Trade rooms and perfected their organization under the above name. Rev. Dr. Richmond Fiske, a widely known philanthropist, prominently connected with the principal charities of the city, assisted by Professor G.F. Comfort, of the Syracuse University, led the movement. The constitution, embracing in admirable form the principles of the Geneva Convention, was signed by a large number present and officers were appointed representing the names of the leading people of the city.

These were the first steps of the American National Association of the Red Cross in relief work and in the organization of auxiliary societies. The completion of this work, which may have seemed premature and preliminary, left the association free to continue its efforts with the Government of the United States on behalf of its accession to the treaty.

The spring rise of the waters of the Mississippi brought great devastation and a cry went over the country in regard to the sufferings of the inhabitants of the Mississippi valley. For hundreds of miles the great river was out of its bed and raging madly over the country, sweeping in its course not only the homes but often the people, the animals, and many times the land itself. This constituted a work of the relief clearly within the bounds of the civil part of our treaty, and again we prepared for work. Again our infant organization sent its field agent, Dr. Hubbell, to the scene of disaster, where millions of acres of the richest valley, cotton and sugar lands of America, and thousands upon thousands of homes under the waters of the mightiest of rivers—where the swift rising floods overtook alike man and beast in their flight of terror, sweeping them ruthlessly to the gulf beyond, or leaving them clinging in famishing despair to some trembling roof or swaying tree top till relief could reach and rescue them.

The National Association, with no general fund, sent of its personal resources what it was able to do, and so acceptable did these prove and so convincing were the beneficences of the work that the cities of Memphis, Vicksburg and New Orleans desired to be permitted to form associate societies and work under the National Association. This was permitted, and those societies have remained until the present time, New Orleans organizing for the entire State of Louisiana. The city of Rochester, proud and grateful of its success in the disaster a few months before, again came to the front and again rendered excellent service.

It was a singular fact that on the first day of March, 1882, while the National Association was in session busily engaged in devising ways and means for extending the relief which to them seemed so needed and so slender, a messenger came from the Senate of the United States to announce to them that the vote had been taken and that the United States had acceded to the Treaty of Geneva without a dissenting voice. This closed a meeting joyfully which had opened with many misgivings. Fresh courage and hope were taken and every energy called into action for the furtherance of the work which seemed then fairly commenced.

In the spring of 1883 occurred the first great rise of the Ohio River; 1000 miles in extent. This river, although smaller than the Mississippi, is more rapid in its course, and its valleys hold the richest grain lands, the most cultivated farms and representing, in fact, the best farming interests of America.

The destruction of property was even greater here than in the cotton and cane lands of the Mississippi. Again our field agent was dispatched and did excellent work. The entire country was aroused, and so liberal were the contributions to the various committees of relief that when Dr. Hubbell retired from the field, having completed the work, he had still unexpended funds in hand. But they were soon needed.

In less than a month occurred the fearful cyclone of Louisiana and Mississippi, which cut a swath clear of all standing objects for thirty miles in width and several hundred miles in length, running southeast from the Mississippi River to the Gulf of Mexico.

Our special agent for the South, Colonel F.R. Southmayd, took charge of the Red Cross relief in this disaster, and so efficient was his work that societies struggled for organization under him and the Red Cross was hailed as a benediction wherever he passed. This was in May, 1883.

Our association now enjoyed for eight months a respite from active work. It was surely needed. It was the longest rest we had yet known, and afforded some small opportunity to gather up its records of past labors, organize some societies and compile a history of the Red Cross, so much needed for the information of our people and so earnestly asked for by them as well as by the United States Senate. From this history the preceding pages of this book have been extracted.

But the respite was all too short for our purposes. The rapidly melting snows of February, 1884, brought the one thousand miles of the Ohio River again out of its bed. A wild cry went out all over the country for help. The government, through Congress, took immediate action and appropriated several hundred thousand dollars for relief, to be applied through the War Department. The Red Cross agents must again repair to the field, its societies be again notified.

But its president felt that if she were to be called every year to direct the relief work of the association in these inundations it was incumbent upon her to visit the scene in person, to see for herself what floods were like, to learn the necessities and be able to direct with the wisdom born of actual knowledge of the subject; and accordingly, with ten hours’ preparation, she joined Dr. Hubbell on his way and proceeded to Pittsburg, the head of the Ohio River. There the societies were telegraphed that Cincinnati would be headquarters and that money and supplies should be sent there. This done, we proceeded to Cincinnati by rail.

Any description of this city upon our entrance would fall so far short of the reality as to render it useless.

The surging river had climbed up the bluffs like a devouring monster and possessed the town; large steamers could have plied along its business streets; ordinary avocations were abandoned. Bankers and merchants stood in its relief houses and fed the hungry populace, and men and women were out in boats passing baskets of food to pale, trembling hands stretched out to reach it from third story windows of the stately blocks and warehouses of that beautiful city. Sometimes the water soaked away the foundations and the structure fell with a crash and was lost in the floods below; in one instance seven lives went out with the falling building; and this was one city, and probably the best protected and provided locality in a thousand miles of thickly populated country.

It had not been my intention to remain at the scene of disaster, but rather to see, investigate, establish an agency and return to national headquarters at Washington, which in the haste of departure had been left imperfectly cared for. But I might almost say, in military parlance, that I was “surprised and captured.”

I had made no call beyond the Red Cross societies—expected no supplies from other sources—but scarcely had news of our arrival at Cincinnati found its way to the public press when telegrams of money and checks, from all sides and sources, commenced to come in, with letters announcing the sending of material. The express office and freight depots began filling up until within two weeks we were compelled to open large supply rooms, which were generously tendered to the use of the Red Cross. A description could no more do justice to our flood of supplies than to the flood of waters which had made them necessary—cases, barrels and bales of clothing, food, household supplies, new and old; all that intelligent awakened sympathy could suggest was there in such profusion that, so far from thinking of leaving it one must call all available help for its care and distribution.

The government would supply the destitute people with food, tents and army blankets, and had placed its military boats upon the river to rescue the people and issue rations until the first great need should be supplied.

The work of the Red Cross is supplemental and it sought for the special wants likely to be overlooked in this great general supply and the necessities outside the limits of governmental aid. The search was not difficult. The government provided neither fuel nor clothing. It was but little past midwinter. A cyclone struck the lower half of the river with the water at its greatest height and whole villages were swept away in a night. The inhabitants escaped in boats, naked and homeless. Hail fell to the depth of several inches and the entire country was encased in sleet and ice. The water had filled the coal mines so abundant in that vicinity until no fuel could be obtained. The people were more likely to freeze than starve and against this there was no provision.

We quickly removed our headquarters from Cincinnati to Evansville, three hundred miles below and at the head of the recent scene of disaster. A new staunch steamer of four hundred tons burden was immediately chartered and laden to the water’s edge with clothing and coal; good assistants, both men and women were taken on board; the Red Cross flag was hoisted and as night was setting in, after a day of intense cold—amid surging waters and crashing ice, the floating wrecks of towns and villages, great uprooted giants of the forest plunging madly to the sea, the suddenly unhoused people wandering about the river banks, or huddled in strange houses with fireless hearths—the clear-toned bell and shrill whistle of the “Josh V. Throop” announced to the generous inhabitants of a noble city that from the wharves of Evansville was putting out the first Red Cross relief boat that ever floated on American waters.

The destroyed villages and hamlets lay thick on either bank, and the steamer wove its course diagonally from side to side calling the people to the boat, finding a committee to receive and distribute, and learning as nearly as possible the number of destitute persons, put off the requisite quantity of clothing and coal, and steamed away quickly and quietly leaving sometimes an astonished few, sometimes a multitude to gaze after and wonder who she was, whence she came, what that strange flag meant, and most of all, to thank God with tears and prayers for what she brought.

In this manner the Red Cross proceeded to Cairo, a distance of four hundred miles, where the Ohio joins the Mississippi River, which latter at that time had not risen and was exciting no apprehension. Returning, we revisited and resupplied the destitute points. The government boats running over the same track were genial and friendly with us, and faithful and efficient in their work.

It should be said that, notwithstanding all the material we had shipped and distributed, so abundant had been the liberality of the people that on our return to Evansville we found our supply greater than at any previous time.

At this moment, and most unexpectedly, commenced the great rise of the Mississippi River, and a second cry went out to the government and the people for instant help. The strongest levees were giving way under the sudden pressure, and even the inundation of the city of New Orleans was threatened. Again the government appropriated money, and the War Department sent out its rescue and ration boats, and again the Red Cross prepared for its supplemental work.

In an overflow of the Mississippi, owing to the level face of the country and the immense body of water, the valley is inundated at times thirty miles in width, thus rendering it impossible to get animals to a place of safety. Great numbers drown and the remainder, in a prolonged overflow, have largely starved, the government having never included the domestic animals in its work of relief. This seemed an omission of vital importance, both humanely and economically considered, and the Red Cross prepared to go to the relief of the starving animals of the Mississippi valley. It would also supply clothing to the destitute people whom the government would feed.

The navigation of the Mississippi River calls for its own style of boats and pilotage, the latter being both difficult and dangerous, especially with the changed channels and yawning crevasses of a flood.

The steamer “Throop” was left at Evansville and the “Mattie Bell” chartered at St. Louis and laden with corn, oats, hay, meal and salt for cattle; clothing and cooking utensils for the destitute people; tea, coffee, rice, sugar and medicines for the sick: and as quickly as possible followed the government steamers leaving the same port with rations of meat and meal. These latter boats kindly burdened themselves with large quantities of our forage which our overladen boat could not contain.

We soon found that our judgment in regard to the condition of the animals had been correct. Horses, mules, cows, sheep and pigs had been hastily gotten upon floating rafts and platforms of logs raised above the water, or had taken refuge, as many as could, on the narrow strips of land, known as broken levees, say eight to twelve feet in width, just peering above the water; and here they stood often crowded beyond the possibility of lying down, with no morsel of food save the wee green leaves and tips of the willow branches and gray moss which their pitying owners, largely poor negroes, could gather in skiffs and bring to them. Day by day they stood and wasted, starved, and their bodies floated down the stream, food for the birds of prey hovering above. Week after week hour after hour the mighty river, pouring through its monster crevasses, spread wider and wider every hour. We left our steamer at times and were rowed out in little boats for miles alongside of the levees, and went among the cattle. Some waded out into the water to their backs to reach after the green scum which gathered and swam delusively upon the surface. Some, unable to stand, lay stretched at length with head and horns dabbling in the mud, fearlessly turning great pitiful eyes upon us as we approached. Others, reeling, followed us tamely about, as if beseeching us to feed them. I need not add that they were fed. Committees of both white and colored persons were formed and the requisite quantity of food for the animals and clothing for the people were left with these committees at every needy point. Our steamer was reladen, or our supplies replenished at each available port, and in this manner we passed to New Orleans, and returning, resupplied our committees.

The necessity for a change of boat on the Ohio and Mississippi has been mentioned; that the “Throop” was discharged at Evansville and the Red Cross body passed over to St. Louis. Perhaps some reference to the journals of that date would best illustrate the necessity for these movements, as well as the spirit of the people and of the times.

From an editorial in the Chicago Inter-Ocean of March 31, 1884, the following extract is taken:

From the Evansville Journal of April 3, the following:

From the St. Louis Democrat, April 4, the following:

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 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.

fWe 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:

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:

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:

On May 25th Miss Barton made a second trip down the Ohio with the steamer “Josh V. Throop” under charter with household supplies and farming implements for the recent sufferers. The boat went as far as Elizabethtown, or possibly a few miles below, and then turning back, proceeded up stream to Wheeling or Pittsburgh till the supplies were exhausted.

It is possible that some readers may recall the story of the “Little Six,” which was locally published at the time, but which I venture to reproduce, as an extract from the Erie Dispatch, of Monday March 24, 1884:

In reply the following letters were received:

It could not fail to have been a satisfaction to me to know that I had done my work as they would have “done it themselves.”

As long as we remained on the river this family was occasionally visited by our boat. On one occasion a strong flagstaff twenty feet in length was taken and firmly set upon the bank near where they would place their house. Its well-lettered cross board at the top showed “Little Six Red Cross Landing,” and this point has remained a landing on the Ohio River probably unto this day.

During this trip on the upper Ohio, which was even yet scarcely safe for running at night, we had, after a hard day’s work, found a cove and tied our boat for the night. It was a rather sequestered spot, and the appearance of a full-size river steamer, halting for the night on one of its banks, attracted the attention of the few people residing there, and at dusk a body of five or six men came to the boat to ask if we were in trouble that we stopped there, and if there were anything they could do for us. We quieted their kindly apprehensions and invited them on board. The lights revealed a condition of personal poverty which should have more naturally asked help than offered it. On the entire trip with its thousands of miles, among white and black, we had never seen such evidences of destitution. They scarcely could have decently gone among civilized people, and yet as they spoke, there was no lack of sense. On the contrary, they seemed in many ways to be men of the world. Their language, while provincial, had nothing uncommon in it, and altogether they were a study to us. We gave them some supper, and while eating, learned the facts of their lives.

Either by blood or marriage, they were all relatives, consisting of six families, making in all about thirty people. They all lived together—such living as it was—and there seemed to be among them a perfectly good understanding. They had always lived on the river banks, probably more on the river than off of it. They were not farmers, never planted or raised anything, subsisting mainly upon fish and the floating drift to be picked up. Thus, they clung to the river like the muskrat and beaver, and were washed out with every flood. Sixteen of them at that time were living under some slanting boards.

After supper our men quietly invited them to the clothing department on the stern of the ship, and exchanged their garments.

Thus we got hold of these people, clothed, fed, encouraged and advised them, got them into houses, furnished them, formed them into a little colony, put up a landing named, at their own request, “Red Cross Big Six,” and took care of the women and children. Every man foreswore his drink, his cards and his betting, and went to work for the first time in his life.

We found a faithful merchant to stand by, advise them and report to us. From year to year we have helped to keep them clothed. The children immediately went to school, and the next year for the first time they planted land and raised their own food; and the growing thrift and strange prosperity of this body of heretofore vagrants began after a time to excite the envy of its neighbors, who thought they were getting on better than themselves, and their merchant friend had to repel it.

Only one or two of them could write a little, but they made good use of their accomplishment as far as possessed. One day I received a letter from one of their savants, Charley Hunter, out of which among much that was encouraging, with considerable labor, I deciphered the following: “We are all doing well. We don’t drink or play cards no more. I got the flannel undershirts and drawers and the medicine you sent me. My rhumatis is better. I know now I have got two friends; one is you and the other is God.”

I was sorry he named me first; I do not think he intended it. I might add that two years later these people had united with the church; that the children were all in school, and that one daughter was being educated for a teacher.

On the lower Ohio one of the villages most wrecked by the waters and the cyclone was Smithland, an old aristocratic borough on the Kentucky side. They had no coal, and we supplied them as we went down. On our return we lowered steam and threw out our landing prow opposite the town. The whistle of the “Throop” was as welcome to their ears as the flag to their eyes.

It was a bright, clear, spring morning and Sunday. In an hour the entire little hamlet of people stood on our decks; only four, they said, were left at home, and these sick and infirm. They had selected their lawyer to speak their thanks, and they had chosen well. No words will ever do justice to the volume of native eloquence which seemed to roll unbidden from his lips. We listened in mute surprise until he finished with these sentences:

A few days later we finished the voyage of relief, having covered the Ohio River from Cincinnati to Cairo and back twice, and the Mississippi from St. Louis to New Orleans and return, occupying four months’ time on the rivers, in our own chartered boats, finishing at Pittsburg and taking rail for Washington on the first of July, having traveled over eight thousand miles, and distributed in relief, of money and estimated material, $175,000.

The government had expended an appropriation from the treasury on the same waters of $150,000 in money, and distributed it well. The difference was that ours was not appropriated; we gathered it as we used it.

Occasional rumors reached us in the years 1885 and 1886 about a drouth in Texas and consequent suffering, but they were so contradictory and widely at variance that the public took little or no heed of them. During the year of 1886 the Rev. John Brown, a North Presbyterian minister, located at Albany, Shackelford County, Texas, began making appeals by circular and oral address to the people of the Northern States, in which he asserted that there were a hundred thousand families in northwestern Texas who were utterly destitute and on the verge of starvation. He stated that since the close of the war a large number of poor families had been constantly crowding into Texas from the Southern States principally, induced thither by land agents and others, who gave glowing representations of the character of the soil for farming purposes.

These poor people, by hard labor and industry, had been generally able to make a living and nothing more. The last fall they had planted wheat and other grain quite extensively, but the rains came not and everything perished; and in the following spring and summer, too, everything put into the ground was blasted by the hot winds, so that not a thing was raised for man or beast. For fifteen months no rain had fallen, and the condition of the people was pitiable and called aloud to the charitable throughout the land for relief. They must be carried through to the next summer or they would perish. At a meeting of the citizens of Albany, Texas, they decided that the task of relieving the sufferers was greater than the well-to-do people of the State were able to undertake, and that an appeal should be made to the good-hearted people of the North for immediate aid. The Governor of Texas also published an appeal to the people of the whole land, asking for food for these people. But as there was no concerted action, and so many denials of the stories of suffering, little or nothing in the way of relief work was accomplished for some time. Spasmodic attempts were made, and some food for man and beast was contributed, but not enough to relieve a hundredth part of the needy.

The Rev. Dr. Brown went to the State Capital and endeavored to interest the legislature in the matter, but there were seemingly so much misunderstanding and unbelief, and so many conflicting interests to reconcile, that he failed to receive any substantial assurances and left the place in disgust. When the citizens of Texas could not agree as to the necessities of their own people it was not to be expected that the citizens of the country would take much interest in them, hence the relief movement languished from inanition.

About the middle of January, 1887, Dr. Brown came to Washington and, as solicitor and receiving agent for the committee which had issued an appeal to the country, appealed to me, as president of the American National Red Cross, asking our organization to come to the relief of the people, who were in a deplorable state, greatly needing food and clothing. I immediately shipped to Texas all the stores that were then in our warehouse, but they were no great quantity.

An appeal direct to the Red Cross required immediate attention, and I at once sought a conference with President Cleveland, who was greatly worried over the contradictory stories that were constantly printed, and was anxious to learn the truth about the matter. When I said that I should go to Texas and see for myself, he was greatly pleased, and requested me to report to him the exact situation just as soon as I had satisfied myself by personal investigation.

Dr. Hubbell and I proceeded directly to Albany, Texas, where we arrived near the end of January. We were met by the leading citizens and most heartily welcomed and accorded every privilege and attention. We began our investigations at once in a systematic way, carefully noting everything we heard and saw; and in the course of a two weeks’ trip over the afflicted region, we learned the extent of the need and formulated plans for its relief.

Making Albany our object point, we traveled by private conveyance over such territory as we thought sufficient to give a correct knowledge of the condition of the country and the people. We met large numbers of the residents, both collectively and at their homes, and learned from them personally and by actual observation their condition and what they had to depend upon during the next few months. It will be borne in mind that when we entered upon this investigation little or no relief had come from the State, and none was positively assured.

Almost no rain had fallen during a period of eighteen months; two planted crops had perished in the ground, and the seed wheat sown the previous fall gave no signs of life. The dust was rolling over the great wind-swept fields, where the people had hidden their last little forlorn hope of borrowed seed, and literally a heaven of brass looked down upon an earth of iron.

Here were twenty to forty counties of a size commensurate with Texan dimensions occupied by new settlers, making their first efforts in the pioneer work of developing home life in an untried country, soil and climate. They had put their all into the new home and the little stock they could afford for its use. They had toiled faithfully, planted two and three times, as long as there was anything to plant or sow, and in most instances failed to get back their seed. Many had grown discouraged and left the country. The people were not actually starving, but they were in the direst want for many of the necessities of life, and it was only a matter of days when they would have reached the condition of the reconcentrados as we later found them in Cuba. Hundreds of thousands of cattle had died for the want of food and water, and their drying carcasses and bleaching bones could be seen in every direction as the eye wandered over the parched surface of the plains.

I at once saw that in the vastness of its territory and varying interests the real need of these suffering communities was not understood by the Texas people—it had not come home to them—but that once comprehending, it would be their wish to have it known and cared for by themselves and not by others outside of the State.

Assuring these poor people that their actual condition should be made known to their own people, through the authoritative means of the Red Cross, and that they should be speedily cared for, we bade them farewell and hurried away to Dallas, where we intended to send out a statement to the people of the State.

Arriving there, we sought an interview with Colonel Belo of the Dallas News and laid before him the result of our observations. He placed the columns of his paper at our disposal, and through them we enlightened the people of the true status of affairs in their own State. The response was as quick as it was gratifying, and thence onward there was no further necessity for appealing to anyone outside of the State limits. Indeed, that act in the first place was the greatest mistake, as to the average Texan, feeling a genuine pride in the State’s wealth and resources, it savored of frauds and imposition, and prejudiced him against the brother who would pass him by and appeal to outsiders.

The Texas Legislature appropriated one hundred thousand dollars for food, and in the meantime rain began to fall and the entire aspect of affairs began to change for the better. But there were still many needs unprovided for—clothing, fuel, seeds for gardens and fields, live stock and many other things—and it was necessary to place these needs before the people. This the News took upon itself to do; and upon my suggestion it opened a popular subscription and announced that it would receive contributions of seed or cash and would publish the same from day to day and turn them over to the constituted authorities appointed to disburse them. In order to encourage the movement I inaugurated it with the first subscription, and from that time until now I do not believe any one has heard of any need in Texas that has not been taken care of by her own people.

Congress had appropriated ten thousand dollars for seed to be given the Texas drouth sufferers; but President Cleveland promptly vetoed the act and thereby laid himself open to a great deal of unkind criticism. He was right, however, and by his resolute action saved the nation’s money and the State’s pride. I know that it must have been an unpleasant duty for the President to feel compelled to apply his pruning knife to that tender shoot, for he was one of the first to respond with his own personal check to the call for aid for the drouth sufferers; and the subject had always held his kindly interest.

The services of the Red Cross, beyond those given by its president and field agent in making their investigation, were not required in this emergency; and as we had performed the duty most needed, viz.: to unravel the misunderstanding and rightly inform the people of the true condition of affairs in the stricken district, we concluded that our task was ended and that we could return to our home.

On our return to Washington the following report was made to the President:

The fever spread during the fall to several points in Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, and resulted in the usual panic and flight from many places; but happily the disease got no great headway before the frost put an end to its career.

It was late in November when we closed this work; worn and disheartened as we were by both the needful and the needless hardships of the campaign, we were glad of the two or three months in which no call for action was made upon us.

On the thirty-first of May the knell of disaster rang over the entire world, and we were sharply reminded that the need of the Red Cross is ever present, and that its members must hold themselves in readiness to move at a moment’s notice. The news of the awful calamity of Johnstown, Pa., with all its horrors, appalled us; and so frightful and improbable were the reports, that it required twenty-four hours to satisfy ourselves that it was not a canard.

In order to get an intelligent idea of this disaster and the terrible damage wrought by the irresistible waters, it may be well to give a short sketch of the city of Johnstown and its adjacent surroundings. Before the flood there were thirty thousand people in this busy community, which embraced the city of Johnstown proper and numerous suburbs. The city is situated at the junction of Stony Creek and the Little Conemaugh, forming the Conemaugh River. These streams are liable to sudden overflows, and owing to the contraction of the waterway in the lower part of the city by the dumping of cinders and slag from the large iron works on the banks of the stream, and also encroachments by riparian owners, the upper portion of the city is liable to inundations. About nine miles above the city a dam had been thrown across the Little Conemaugh River many years ago for commercial purposes, but had been abandoned and the site with much surrounding property had been subsequently purchased by a sporting club, whose membership embraced some of the wealthiest citizens of Pennsylvania. These gentlemen were attracted by the picturesque scenery, and the hunting and fishing of the vicinity, and they spent thousands of dollars in improving and beautifying their holdings. The dam was raised to a height of over seventy feet and held an immense body of water covering many acres.

This large mass of water was a constant source of fear to the inhabitants of the lower valleys, who were aware of the danger that threatened them; and many protests were made against the continuance of the danger, but owing to the prominence of the owners of the dam, and the strong social and political influence they exerted, they remained unmolested in the possession of the monster that was to break its bounds and carry death and destruction in its pitiless pathway.

A steady rainfall for several days in the latter part of May caused overflows in all the streams in western Pennsylvania, and much of the city of Johnstown was already under water to a depth of from two to ten feet, when suddenly the dam over the Little Conemaugh gave way, and its flood, resembling a moving mountain of water thirty feet high, was precipitated upon the doomed city. Numbers of the inhabitants, who had carried the fear of this disaster in their minds for years, had become so alarmed by the long continued rains, and the floods that were already upon them, took their families and fled to the high grounds on the hillsides. But the great majority of the people, who, though fully aware of the danger, had lived with it so long that they had become careless and indifferent, took no precautions whatever. These were overwhelmed by the tide almost without warning, and before they could seek safety were swept away.

The number of lives lost will never be accurately known; but in all probability it reached in the entire valley nearly five thousand. It is said that property to the amount of twelve millions of dollars was absolutely lost.

It was at the moment of supreme affliction when we arrived at Johnstown. The waters had subsided, and those of the inhabitants who had escaped the fate of their fellows, were gazing over the scene of destruction and trying to arouse themselves from the lethargy that had taken hold of them when they were stunned by the realization of all the woe that had been visited upon them. How nobly they responded to the call of duty! How much of the heroic there is in our people when it is needed! No idle murmurings of fate, but true to the godlike instincts of manhood and fraternal love, they quickly banded together to do the best that the wisest among them could suggest.

For five weary months it was our portion to live amid these scenes of destruction, desolation, poverty, want and woe; sometimes in tents, sometimes without; in rain and mud, and a lack of the commonest comforts, until we could build houses to shelter ourselves and those around us. Without a safe, and with a dry goods box for a desk, we conducted financial affairs in money and material to the extent of nearly half a million dollars.

I shall never lose the memory of my first walk on the day of our arrival—the wading in mud, the climbing over broken engines, cars, heaps of iron rollers, broken timbers, wrecks of houses; bent railway tracks tangled with piles of iron wire; among bands of workmen, squads of military, and getting around the bodies of dead animals, and often people being borne away;—the smouldering fires and drizzling rain—all for the purpose of officially announcing to the commanding general (for the place was under martial law) that the Red Cross had arrived on the field. I could not have puzzled General Hastings more if I had addressed him in Chinese; and if ours had been truly an Oriental mission, the gallant soldier could not have been more courteous and kind. He immediately set about devising means for making as comfortable as possible a “poor, lone woman,” helpless, of course, upon such a field! It was with considerable difficulty that he could be convinced that the Red Cross had a way of taking care of itself at least, and was not likely to suffer from neglect. I don’t believe he quite got over his mistrust until a week later, when carloads of lumber from Iowa and Illinois began to come in consigned to the president of the Red Cross. As this was the only lumber that had come, the military were constrained to “borrow” from us in order to erect quarters in which to entertain the Governor of the State on the occasion of his first visit.

Our first duty was to study the situation and take up the line of relief as necessities developed and opportunities presented. Western Pennsylvania and Ohio had been “instant in season.” Pittsburg had mainly provided for the survivors who were injured. Ohio had sent its troops under its efficient Adjutant-General Axline; and food, the first necessity, was literally pouring in from every available source.

But the wherewithal to put and keep clothes upon this denuded city full of people, and something to sleep on at night was a problem; and shelter for them, a present impossibility. The possible must be attempted.

The first days brought in dispatches and letters to the amount of about a hundred a day, tendering sympathy, offering help, and giving notice of material and money sent. We were then living in tents and working literally night and day, some of us at work all the time.

From one mammoth tent, which served as a warehouse, food and clothing were given out to the waiting people through the hands of such volunteer agents, both women and men, as I scarcely dare hope ever to see gathered together in one work again. The great cry which had gone out had aroused the entire country, and our old-time helpers, full of rich experience and still richer love for the work, faithful to the cross of humanity as the devotee to the cross of the Master, came up from every point—the floods, the cyclones, the battlefields—and kneeling before the shrine, pledged heart and service anew to the work. Fair hands laying aside their diamonds, and business men their cares, left homes of elegance and luxury to open rough boxes and barrels, handle second-hand clothing, eat coarse food at rough board tables, sleep on boxes under a dripping canvas tent, all for the love of humanity symbolized in the little flag that floated above them.

Clergymen left their pulpits, and laymen their charge to tramp over the hillsides from house to house, find who needed and suffered, and to carry to them from our tents on their shoulders, like beasts of burden, the huge bundles of relief, where no beast of burden could reach.

Let it not be supposed that all this was accomplished without perplexity to someone. Goods came in from many sources of transport, five entries by freight and express requiring to be constantly watched; for, strange to say, there is no work in which people grow more reckless, selfish and jealous, than in the distribution of charities. Persons outside grew anxious that the receipt of goods was not acknowledged before they were received; that checks were not drawn and returned before the bank safes were out of the mud; and that houses were not built and the people living in them before it was possible to find a cleared spot for a little tent in which a workman could sleep at night. We finally found space, however, for the erection of a pine warehouse, fifty by one hundred and fifty feet in dimensions in the centre of the old town. The building was put up in four days, and, still in the rain, our accumulation of supplies was removed to it on the first of July.

We had been early requested by official resolution of the Finance Committee of the city of Johnstown to aid them in the erection of houses. We accepted the invitation, and at the same time proposed to aid in furnishing the nucleus of a household for the homes which should in any way be made up. This aid seemed imperative, as nothing was left for them to commence living with, neither beds, chairs, tables, nor cooking utensils of any kind; and there were few if any stores open, and no furniture in town.

It now became possible to more fully systematize the work; and a committee of Johnstown ladies of every denomination was formed, at our request, to receive the people and ascertain their greatest wants, which were carefully noted on printed blanks to be returned to us. These wants we undertook to fill without further trouble to the people themselves.

The result of this committee’s work was the written requests of three thousand families, aggregating eighteen thousand persons, to be served, in addition to two thousand others whom we had previously promised to help.

The great manufacturers of the country, and the heavy contributing agents, on learning our intentions, sent, without a hint from us, many of their articles, as for instance, New Bedford, Mass., sent mattresses and bedding; Sheboygan, Wis., sent furniture and enameled ironware; Titusville, Pa., with a population of ten thousand, sent ten thousand dollars’ worth of its well-made bedsteads, springs, extension tables, chairs, stands and rockers; and the well-known New York newspaper, The Mail and Express, sent car loads of mattresses, feather pillows, bed-clothing,—sheets, and pillow slips by the thousand, and cooking utensils by the ten thousands. Six large teams were in constant service delivering these goods.

When the contributions slackened or ceased, and more material was needed, we purchased of the same firms which had contributed, keeping our stock good until all applications were filled. The record on our books showed that over twenty-five thousand persons had been directly served by us. They had received our help independently and without begging. No child has learned to beg at the doors of the Red Cross.

Meanwhile our building contracts were not neglected. It is to be borne in mind that the fury of the deluge had swept almost entirely the homes of the wealthy, the elegant, the cultured leaders of society, and the fathers of the town. This class who were spared, were more painfully homeless than the poor, who could still huddle in together. They could not go away, for the suffering and demoralized town needed their care and oversight more than ever before. There was no home for them, nowhere to get a meal of food or to sleep. Still they must work on, and the stranger coming to town on business must go unfed, and return to Cresson at night, if he would sleep, or, indeed, escape being picked up by the military guard.

To meet these necessities, and being apprehensive that some good lives might go out under the existing lack of accommodations, it was decided to erect a building similar to our warehouse. The use of the former site of the Episcopal Church was generously tendered us by the bishop early in June, for any purpose we might desire. This house, which was soon erected, was known as the “Locust Street Red Cross Hotel;” it stood some fifty yards from our warehouse, and was fifty by one hundred and sixteen feet in dimensions, two stories in height, with lantern roof, built of hemlock, single siding, papered inside with heavy building paper, and heated by natural gas, as all our buildings were. It consisted of thirty-four rooms, besides kitchen, laundry, bath rooms with hot and cold water, and one main dining-hall and sitting room through the centre, sixteen feet in width by one hundred in length with second floor gallery.

It was fully furnished with excellent beds, bedding, bureaus, tables, chairs and all needful housekeeping furniture. A competent landlady, who like the rest, had a few weeks before floated down over that same ground on the roof of her house in thirty feet of water five miles below the city, rescued in a tree top, was placed in charge, with instructions to keep a good house, make what she could, rent free, but charging no Johnstown person over twenty-five cents for a meal of food.

This was the first attempt at social life after that terrible separation, and its success was something that I am very glad of. The house was full of townspeople from the first day, and strangers no longer looked in vain for accommodations.

The conception of the need of this house, and the method of selecting its inmates and the manner of inducting them into their new home, were somewhat unique and may be of interest to the reader. We had noticed among the brave and true men, who were working in the mud and rain, many refined looking gentlemen, who were, before this great misfortune carried away most of their worldly belongings, the wealthiest and most influential citizens. Never having had to struggle amid such hardships and deprivations, their sufferings were more acute than those of the poorer and more hardy people; and it did not require any great foresight to know that they were physically incapable of such labor if prolonged, nor to predict their early sickness and death if they were not properly housed and fed. As the salvation of the town depended in a great measure upon the efforts of these men, it was vitally necessary that their lives should be preserved. Realizing all this, it occurred to us that the most important thing to do, next to feeding the hungry, was to provide proper shelter for these men and their families. The idea once conceived was soon put in the way of realization.

It was decided that we should erect the house as quickly as possible, furnish it completely, and when ready, invite the citizens to a reception within its hospitable walls. This arrangement was carried out, and a printed invitation was issued, of which the following is a facsimile:

On the afternoon of July 27, hundreds of citizens called on us and congratulations and good wishes were the order of the day. As the members of each family whom we had selected to occupy apartments in the house arrived, they were quietly taken aside and requested to remain and have dinner with us. After all the guests were departed except those who had been requested to remain, dinner was announced, and the party was seated by the members of the Red Cross. Beside the plate of each head of the family were laid the keys to an apartment, with a card inviting the family to take possession at once, and remain as long as they chose.

I cannot describe the scene that followed; there were tears and broken voices; suffice to say, the members of that household were made happy and comfortable for many long months; and I venture to assert that those now living recall those days with the fondest recollections.

This revealed a want so great, that a second house of the same dimensions and qualities was erected just across the river, known as the “Kernville Red Cross Hotel.” Another competent landlady was installed in charge, who had not only lost her home, but her beautiful daughter of twenty years. This house was also filled; and a fourth house of forty by one hundred feet was next built in the form of a block, the families living separately, for the accommodation of the working people of Woodvale, where no house was left. This was known as the “Red Cross Block,” or “Woodvale House.”

There was no rent to pay for accommodations in this house, the only cost to the tenant being for fire, lights and living.

Johnstown had neither a hospital nor an almshouse—never had, its poor being taken to Ebensville, twenty miles distant. Under ordinary circumstances this might do, but with the scant, poor homes of this winter we felt it to be unsafe, and saw that better provision should be made. Accordingly the use of some half-dozen unset portable houses, known as the “Oklahomas,” was asked of the Flood Commission, and erected adjoining our warehouse, as separate wards connected by a covered way, and provided with an adjoining house of eighteen by thirty feet, two stories high, for kitchen, dining, store, sleeping and living rooms for the use of the wards and attendants. These were all fully equipped and warmed for the accommodation of thirty patients, with the best of new outfit, and the hospital was known as the “Johnstown Infirmary.”

These things accomplished, there remained but one more danger to be guarded against. The citizens still had no organization of their own for the relief of their needy people through the coming winter, and no protection against any alarming report which might be sprung upon them. Any sensational writer could still, if he chose to, report two hundred cases of typhoid fever in Johnstown, alarming the whole country, with not a case of genuine typhoid there, and there were none to say him nay; or that its people were freezing or starving, with nowhere the authority to correct the misstatement. This protection was needed, not alone for Johnstown, but the people at large as well.

A few well-timed suggestions were sufficient. The meetings were held in our house and some of the leading men and women of the city effected a permanent organization to be incorporated under the name of the “Benevolent Union of Conemaugh Valley.”

This completed, we had only to turn over to their hands, as the leaders of the town, our warehouse with its entire remaining stock, amounting to some thousands of dollars; the care of the infirmary; one of our trained clerks, with all papers and accounts of our relief work from the day of its inception; one of our experienced working men to handle transportation—to fit up for them large, warm rooms for winter use; give them our blessing; accept theirs in fullest measure; say good bye to them and to our faithful helpers, with heavy hearts and choking voices, and return to our home, bearing the record of a few months of faithful endeavor among a people as patient and brave as people are made, as noble and grateful as falls to the lot of human nature to be. Enterprising, industrious, and hopeful, the new Johnstown, phoenix-like, rose from its ruins more beautiful than the old, with a ceaseless throb of grateful memory for every kind act rendered, and every thought of sympathy given her in her great hour of desolation and woe. God bless her, and God bless all who helped save her! We had employed during our sojourn in Johnstown a working force of fifty men and women, whom we had housed, fed and paid, with the exception of the volunteers who worked for the good they could do and would accept nothing. The means which we so largely handled came from everywhere; accounts were rendered for everything, and no word of business complication ever came to us. There never has in all our work.

There was much to do in Johnstown after we left; buildings to remove and property to care for when it had served its purpose and the ground became needed. But there is always a right time for any benevolent work to cease; a time when the community is ready to resume its own burdens, and when an offered charity is an insult to the honest and independent, and a degradation to the careless and improvident, tending to pauperize and make them an added burden on their better-minded fellow citizens. And then, the moment the tradesman is able to re-establish himself, he looks with jealous eyes on any agency that diverts possible business from his channels. Thus it is not only wise but just to all concerned to withdraw all gratuities from a people the instant they are able to gain even a meagre self-support.

A rather curious circumstance, somewhat on the line of this reflection, fell to our lot after leaving Johnstown. The houses that we had built and furnished were indispensable to the tenants during the winter, when there were no other houses to be had; but in the spring the city, rejuvenated, began to build up again, and we were notified that the land on which our large houses were standing was needed by the owners, who wished to use it for their own purposes, and they requested the Red Cross to remove its buildings. We promptly sent an agent to attend to the matter, and he began the work of vacating the premises. There was no hardship involved in this, as all the tenants were by this time in condition to pay rent, the relief fund of $1,600,000 having been distributed among them in proportion to their losses, and there were houses that they could get; in a few days our houses were empty. Then a new factor entered into the situation. When it became generally known that the Red Cross must remove these immense houses, and that a large quantity of lumber and house furnishings were to be disposed of, the self-interests of the dealers in those commodities were at once aroused, and they strongly protested against the gratuitous distribution of those articles among the people of Johnstown, asserting that the inhabitants were now prospering and had the means to buy everything they needed, and that a gift from us of any of these things would be an injustice to the honest traders who were trying to re-establish themselves.

We saw the justice of their objection and gave assurances that no injury should be done them, still to have fully conformed to their idea and transported the entire material to some other point, would have put the Red Cross to an amount of trouble and cost unjust to itself.

I am not prepared to say that our quiet field agent in charge of the work did not find resting places for very much of this material in still needy homes, where it did no harm to any one and for which no one but the pitiful recipients were the wiser.

Notwithstanding the fact that we took away from Johnstown as little material and furniture as was possible, after quietly disposing of the greater part of it, and this at an expense and inconvenience to ourselves which we could ill afford, there were those, who could not understand why we should take anything away; and their unkind misconstruction and criticisms have scarcely ceased echoing even to this late day.

The paths of charity are over roadways of ashes; and he who would tread them must be prepared to meet opposition, misconstruction, jealousy and calumny. Let his work be that of angels, still it will not satisfy all.

There is always an aftermath of attempted relief where none is needed; and more or less criticism of any work, for it is always so much easier to say how a thing ought to be done than it is to do it.

These little unpleasantnesses, however, cannot deprive us of the thousand memories of gratitude, appreciation, and kindnesses exchanged, which were mutually needful and helpful; nor of the many lifelong friendships formed that will bless us all our days.

I may perhaps be pardoned for quoting a few lines from the official report of the Johnstown Flood Finance Committee, appointed by Governor Beaver, as showing how these gentlemen, the foremost men in the community, regarded our efforts to give them a helping hand:

The Johnstown Daily Tribune was one of the enterprising and reliable papers of the unfortunate city, which, though drowned out, would not stay dead, and insisted on “pulling itself together,” and cheering the people along in their efforts to re-establish their homes and their fortunes. On the eve of our departure the Tribune published an editorial which we are fain to believe reflected the feelings of the people, and which was as follows:

Some bard, whose name I do not know, but whose sad, lovely words frequently recur to me, has commemorated the disaster of the Conemaugh in the following beautiful poem, which, I think, is worthy of preservation:

The incidents attending a field of relief—some pathetic and sorrowful, others laughable and ludicrous—so loom up in the memory when the subject is opened, as almost to encumber the pen as one writes. Referring to our landlady at Locust Street Hotel, Mrs. Henrie, one recalls her wonderful experience during the night of the flood. By some means, entirely alone, she floated down the stream, not only through Johnstown, but miles below in the darkness of the night, until some time next day perhaps she managed to stay herself in a tree-top, where she clung among the branches, her clothing torn from her in shreds during her struggle for life, until discovered and taken away.

The family of Mr. John Tittle, one of the oldest, most respected and beloved in the town, floated clinging to the top of their house, without knowing that they were moving, but thought others were moving as they passed them; until at length, fearing that Mrs. Tittle’s strength and courage would fail, her husband joined hands with her firmly over the ridge-pole, and thus they hung on opposite sides of the roof through the long night. The courage and strength did often fail, and her pleading went out to her husband: “Oh, let us let go and end it, John! We cannot escape! I cannot endure it longer!” to be answered by his words of hope and cheer and a tightened grasp on the aching wrists. At length, near morning, having reached the vicinity of Kernville, the house struck the bridge and remained stationary. One by one the inmates slid onto the bridge and gained the land on the Kernville side.

They had left within the house, unable to be gotten out, the old, decrepit black mammy of a lifetime, the great silky-haired setter, “Rob,” and the poll-parrot hanging in her cage. All had been transferred, as the water rose, to the topmost peak of the attic, where they were left to their fate. The great bread-wagons of Pittsburg, with their sturdy policemen, were already there; the dead and the living were being picked up together as they floated down. Some consciousness began to return to the dazed survivors, and at length it was thought safe to attempt an entrance to the Tittle mansion, still floating at the bridge.

On gaining the attic, this picture as described at the time, presented itself: the water had never quite reached it; Poor, old mammy sat in the highest corner, with hands clasped, her chin resting on her knees, and her lips muttering her woes and her prayers; long-eared, silky-haired “Rob,” no longer a “setter” at least, bounding and roaring a welcome that required physical strength to resist; and “poll,” her cage topsy-turvy, striding about the floor, with an air of offended dignity, hungry and cross, said “she had had a devil of a time.”

During one of the early days Mr. K., a citizen of the town, came into my tent, bringing with him another man—tall, firmly knit, dark visaged, with hair tangled and matted, and still the bearing of a man if not a gentleman. On introducing his companion, Mr. K. said that he had been exceedingly unfortunate, and he had brought him to me to see if anything could be done for him. “I hoped so,” and turned to inquire what was most needed. “Had he a family; did they want food, or clothing? Had he little children?” His face grew darker still and his frown deeper, as at length, in a tone approaching contempt, he replied: “No; I don’t want anything you can give; you have nothing for me.” I had still the courage to persevere, and added, “What would you have me do, if I could do it?” Again a silence and a mental struggle that shook his whole frame, as he half hissed between clenched teeth, “Let me look on the face of one dead child;” and rushing from the tent, he disappeared from me forever.

He had had five motherless children, for whom he toiled early and late in the great Cambria Iron Mills. The flood swept his little home before he could reach it, and every child was lost. He had wandered about the river banks, watched the receding waters, dug in the sands for the little bodies hidden beneath, until reason had given way—till even God seemed cruel and mankind weak idiots.

To properly understand the Russian Famine of 1891–92, and the relief work of the Red Cross connected therewith, one needs to keep in mind the ordinary moral and economic condition of the Russian peasantry. They were, many of them, not long ago serfs attached to the land in a condition but little better than American slaves. Though the liberation of the serfs made their legal condition better, it left them in condition scarcely less discouraging than before. They were subject to all the disabilities of hard bargains on every side, from the exactions of taxes levied in one way or another, and payable in services or goods, all of which called for an ever increasing sacrifice. They were subject to onerous military service, and penal exactions for violations of the law. These conditions surrounded them with an atmosphere of depressing poverty, fear and hopeless endurance, if not of despair. They have not felt the stimulating habitual influence of hope, of courage, of enterprise. They are not educated to surmount discouragements by overcoming them. Difficulties do not down easily before them; they go down before difficulties and disasters in something like apathetic despondency, or live in an amazing light-hearted, careless recklessness that easily turns to drink, to idleness, weakness, disease and early death. Fear is with them always, as if fate was over and against them.

The climate of Russia is cold in winter, and the means of cooking and artificial warmth are scanty, and not easily procured at any time; thus, when the famine really came upon them, observers were divided in opinion whether the famine, or fear of famine, or of something worse, destroyed or paralyzed these people the more.

The harvest yields of 1889 and 1890 had been much less than an average, and at the beginning of 1891 but little of the old supplies of grain was left over. The harvest of 1891 was nearly a total failure throughout a vast region in central Russia extending from Moscow, roughly speaking, say, three hundred miles in a northeasterly direction over a plain eight hundred to a thousand miles in width, beyond the Ural Mountains, and some distance into Siberia in Asiatic Russia—a district of nearly a million square miles. Ordinarily this is the most productive part of the Empire, upon which the remainder of the country had been accustomed to draw for food supplies in the frequent cases of deficiency elsewhere. The appearance of the country is similar to our prairie States in the early days before the growth of the planted trees; and the soil is a rich, black loam that usually produces good harvests.

It was estimated by those best qualified to judge that from thirty to thirty-five millions of people were sufferers by the famine of 1891.

Count Tolstoi gave up his whole time to mitigating the suffering caused by this great disaster, and to understanding the situation broadly. He went into the homes of the people, and studied their needs sympathetically; he placed himself by their side, and with his dramatic instinct understood them, ascertained where the hurt was felt, and how it could be cured, if it could be cured at all.

At that time the Count wrote of these poor, unfortunates: “I asked them what sort of a harvest they had had, and how they were getting along; and they replied in a blithe, off-hand manner: ‘Oh, right enough, God be praised!’ And yet these people who reside in the most distressed districts of the government of Toula, cannot possibly live through the winter, unless they bestir themselves in time. They are bound to die of hunger, or some disease engendered by hunger, as surely as a hive of bees left to face the rigors of a northern winter, without honey or sweets, must perish miserably before the advent of spring. The all-important question, therefore, is this: Will they exert themselves while yet they possess the strength, if, indeed, it be not already wholly exhausted? Everything that I saw or heard pointed with terrible distinctness to a negative reply. One of these farmers had sold out the meagre possessions which he could call his own, and had left for Moscow to work or beg. The others stayed on and waited with naive curiosity watching for what would happen next, like children, who, having fallen into a hole in the ice, or lost their way in a dense forest and not realizing at first the terrible danger of their situation, heartily laugh at its unwontedness.”

“Unless they bestir themselves in time”—what a text is this! They are all the time overborne by the apathy of fear, of unused powers, of suppression and depression. Courage, hope, enterprise to bestir themselves, where will they come from? Not, surely, from fear, and more discouragement.

The work of the American National Red Cross in the Russian famine of 1891-92 was comparatively less than in some others of the conspicuous fields in which it had done its work. The impulse to help in the work of that relief sprang up simultaneously in many American hearts and homes, in New York, in Philadelphia, in Minnesota and Iowa. In Iowa it took the form of a veritable crusade for a most holy cause; beginning in the fervid and indomitable spirit of Miss Alice French—the “Octave Thanet” of literature—it quickly enlisted Mr. B.F. Tillinghast, editor of the Davenport Democrat, who became its director-in-chief and organizing force, everywhere organizing it, and promoting it in every direction and in every form. The movement was taken up by the women of Iowa, and Governor Boies became a prime mover, till the whole State at last joined in a triumphal march bearing corn, God’s best gift to man, to the Atlantic coast in a procession of two hundred and twenty-five carloads, exceeding five hundred bushels in each car. The corn was consigned to Clara Barton in New York and reached her agents there without accident or delay.

The American National Red Cross had authentic intelligence of the famine in Russia before it had attracted general attention; it had placed itself in communication with the Secretary of State, the Honorable James G. Blaine, and the Russian Charge d’Affairs at Washington, Mr. Alexander Gregor, and had ascertained that Russia would gladly receive any donations of relief that the people of America might send to her famine stricken people. Not only would they receive supplies, but would send their ships for them, and provide inland transportation from Russian ports to the destitute people for whom these benefactions were intended. America declined to allow her suffering sister nation to cross the seas to get this food, and quickly arranged to carry it to her. All the American agencies concerned in this movement met it in the noblest spirit; railroad companies gave free transportation, telegraph companies the free use of wires, brokers and steamship agents declined their usual commissions, and some insurance companies even gave premiums for the safe delivery of the precious cargo into the hands of the starving people.

Congress had been appealed to for ocean transportation, and the Senate had voted a liberal appropriation, but the bill was defeated in the House of Representatives. Then the citizens of Washington took up the matter and were joined by the Society of Elks, one of the noblest of our benevolent orders, ever ready to join in any good cause for humanity; and funds to charter a steamship to carry the cargo to Russia were soon raised and placed in the hands of the Red Cross.

The sentiment that roused and sustained this great movement on the part of the people of America was a mingled one of sympathy for starving Russian peasants, and gratitude for timely moral help of the Russian navy in years gone by.

Was it accident or design that chose the British steamship “Tynehead” to carry this material expression of American sympathy and gratitude and enabled the president of the American National Red Cross, on the deck of a British vessel, in presence of the American people, to say that, “these tributes of America to Russia in her hour of temporary distress were not to be counted as gifts, for they had been richly earned; not even accounted as loans, for they had been anticipated a hundred-fold in an hour of our own peril—far greater, God grant, than Russia may ever know. They were not even the principal of a great national debt; but a tithe of the interest long due, and joyously acknowledged—acknowledged there under the triple shadow of the three great flags floating above, blending now in their mighty folds the finest, purest attributes of God’s holy gifts to man, peace, love and charity.”

Mr. Tillinghast, in describing the scene of the departure of the “Tynehead” from New York, at which the above quoted words were spoken, said: “Captain Carr, a brave man and a Briton, who had been tossed by the waves from the Indian Ocean to the Bay of Fundy, was for a moment speechless. The hardy sailors about him bowed, and their eyes moistened. There was not a man on that ship who had ever before been charged with the delivery of such a cargo.”

A tug hauled the ship out into the river at high tide. She was greeted by saluting whistles of passing ferries, yachts and steamers, by waving flags and cheers from thousands. The “Tynehead” was headed for the long voyage to the Gulf of Riga in the Baltic on the shores of Russia.

Dr. Hubbell, representative of the Red Cross to the international conference of the Red Cross to be held at Rome, and authorized to proceed to Riga and receive and distribute with the Russian Red Cross this gift of Iowa, was already on his ocean voyage and ready to do his part in this beautiful blending of international courtesies and services that it is the mission of the Red Cross to devise and to carry out where-ever it can make or find the fitting opportunity. Dr. Hubbell arrived on time at Riga and will further on state the facts about the distribution of the cargo.

It must not be thought that the Russian government or people were indifferent to the sufferings of their fellow countrymen during this great misfortune, or that they made no sufficient effort to meet their needs or relieve their sufferings. The question has often been asked: “While America was so active in this charity, what was the government of Russia doing for its unfortunates?” Perhaps this query is best answered by quoting from the official report of the American Ambassador at St. Petersburg, the Hon. Charles Emory Smith, to his government, which was written at that time, and says:

Ambassador Smith estimates that the American donations supported more than seven hundred thousand people for a month. This may be accepted as the result of their practical work for humanity.

From the above report it will be seen that the distress was so excessive and widespread that even the available resources of so great an empire as Russia were sorely taxed in the endeavor to succor its famishing people; and that its people of all classes rose nobly to the work of the occasion.

That the substantial sympathy of the American people was fully appreciated by the Russian people may be gathered from what follows. The mayor of St. Petersburg, in an address on behalf of that city to American donors, declared:

A peasant of Samara sent to a Russian editor, together with three colored eggs, a letter which he asked to have forwarded to America. It appeared in the Century Magazine. Here is an extract:

Count Bobrinskoy, writing officially to the secretary of the Iowa Russian Famine Relief Commission, used these words:

On the first anniversary of the arrival of the Iowa ship, “Tynehead,” at Riga, there was a significant event in Philadelphia. The Russian man-of-war, the “Dimitre Donskoi,” the flagship of the North Atlantic Squadron, anchored in the Delaware River. The vessel was decorated with flags and the officer of the day was the Grand Duke Alexander. By special invitation of this representative of the Czar, Dr. Hubbell and the nine other American commissioners, who went to Russia in behalf of the donors were present on board. They were received with the most impressive honors. The Czar had sent gifts by his officer, and the presentations were made in the name of his majesty, under the imperial flags. A large open trunk contained ten boxes of polished wood, and each of these was inscribed: “In remembrance of your visit to Russia.” Accompanying each was a letter expressive of his majesty’s gratitude. The tokens were all magnificent specimens of Russian art work in silver.

The Department of State at Washington, under date of January 11, 1894, issued the following information:

The following is the Text of the Testimonial from the Nobility of Saint Petersburg to the People of the United States:

Previous to receiving this beautiful tribute, on the arrival of the S.S. “Indiana” from Philadelphia while not connected with the Red Cross work, a similar artistic tribute to American donors was presented by the workmen of Libeau to represent the sentiment of the workmen of Russia, we introduce it as an additional illustration of the universal sentiment of tender sympathy and gratitude of the Russian people.

Arrived in St. Petersburg. It would be a week or ten days before we could expect the arrival of the “Tynehead,” with its cargo for the famine sufferers; but we had a copy of her manifest and knew what she would bring.

There was something of anxiety, amounting even to consternation, among those who would have to do with the reception of the ship, for reports from the United States had been circulated that persons were on board the vessel who were objectionable, if not avowed enemies to the Russian government, and such could not be recognized nor received. This concern could not easily be dispelled until it was made clear that no one was aboard the “Tynehead” save its own officers and crew. Elaborate ceremonies had been held on the arrival of the other relief ships and were contemplated for the “Tynehead.” This we did not want, and took occasion to express the feelings of the Red Cross and of American donors in a letter acknowledging courtesies extended from the president of the Russian Red Cross affording opportunities to visit its various institutions, and particularly the regular working departments, in its clinics, dispensaries, hospitals and training for active service in civil as well as military field work.

The following is General Kauffmann’s answer:

Through the help of Mr. Wurts of our legation; our Consul-General, Dr. Crawford; Count Bobrinskoy, representing the Russian Red Cross, and the Government, as well as the Czarowitch Committee; and through the active help of Mr. W.H. Hilton, an Englishman at the head of the large linseed oil works, deacon in the Anglo-American Church, whose thirty years’ business acquaintance over Eastern Russia and his sympathy with a people in distress, particularly fitting him for the work; with these agencies the assignment of the cargo was arranged to be sent to eighty-two famine centres for distribution. It was to be consigned to persons of unquestioned integrity and fitness for the work. These people had been communicated with, and their acceptance of the charge assured, and the number of carloads that each should receive made known to each, that he might make the necessary provision for its reception and distribution. Count Bobrinskoy had ordered 320 freight cars to be in readiness at Riga to receive and transport the cargo free of cost to whatever point might be desired. When these preliminary arrangements had been completed and the “Tynehead” sighted from the signal station, we started in company with Count Bobrinskoy for Riga, the port that had been previously selected by the Russian Ambassador in Washington as being free from ice and most favorable for transporting the cargo to the interior.

The “Tynehead” was a big ship, one of the largest ocean freighters, and came too heavily loaded to enter the harbor until her cargo had been partly discharged by lighters, and she anchored eight miles from the port. The governor’s ship, having on board his excellency, M. Znovief; Count Bobrinskoy, representative of the Czarovitch Committee; N. von Cramer, representing the Red Cross of Russia; R. Kerkovius, president of the Exchange of Riga; von Richer, chief of police; von Keldermann, chief of customs; von Nagel, captain of the port; N.P. Bornholdt, United States consul, and J.B. Hubbell steamed an hour down the river to welcome the “Tynehead,” which had all flags and streamers flying and by the activity of our consul, Mr. Bornholdt, the lighters already lying alongside to take in the grain. After an hour on board the captain was brought back in the governor’s ship on which we lunched, and later dined at the governor’s palace, where the captain was presented with a beautiful tea service of Russian enamel inlaid work as a present from the Czar.

It was arranged that two lines of cars be kept on the dock, into which the grain should be carried direct from the ship, which lay alongside the wharf. As soon as a car was filled it was shifted, weighed and sealed, and when enough were filled they were made into trains and sent to their destinations with right of way over every other traffic on the road, not excepting express and passenger trains; and at their destination no person presumed to break the seal save the one to whom it was consigned.

When we reached Riga, we learned that two hundred and forty peasants had been waiting on the dock two days, waiting and waiting for the ship from America. Not waiting for food, for Riga was not in a famine province, but waiting that they might not miss the opportunity and the honor of unloading the American ship that had brought food to their unfortunate brothers in the interior. As soon as they could get into the hold of the ship, one hundred and forty of them began the unloading. They worked night and day, without rest, determined to unload the entire cargo themselves without help. But on the third night our consul, Mr. Bornholdt, insisted on their having a relief of twelve hours, and when the twelve hours were up they were all in their places again, and remained until the cargo was out, declining to take any pay for their labor. Twelve women worked along with them, in the same spirit, in the ship and on the dock, with needles, sewing up the rents in the bags to prevent waste in handling.

Only a part of the “Tynehead’s” cargo was in bags; hence for convenience and economy in handling and the final distribution, we purchased in St. Petersburg and Riga 43,000 additional bags to sack the rest of the cargo, which in all amounted to nearly 117,000 bushels of shelled corn, 11,033 bags of flour and meal, besides small amounts of wheat, rye, bacon, canned goods, drugs, etc., requiring 307 Russian freight cars for its transportation. Some of this was reshipped on steamboats sent up the headwaters of the Volga, reshipped again on cars nearly to the foot of the Ural Mountains, a distance of 3,000 miles from Riga. Notwithstanding our declaration while in St. Petersburg that neither the Red Cross nor the American people desired any public ceremonies in the way of acknowledgments: dinners, excursions and public demonstrations and illuminations were planned, which we felt ourselves obliged to decline on the ground we had first taken, that any effort and any money proposed to be used in this manner would be most acceptable to all Americans if turned into food for the hungry, whom we had come to help.

At our hotel the Russian and American colors were crossed over the entrance; in the shop windows were the American colors, and in other places, where it seemed that these were not easily procured, title-pages of American sheet-music were displayed—such as “America,” “Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doodle,” “Star-Spangled Banner,” etc, and little boys in the streets carried American flags of their own make. One little fellow had made the Russian flag on one side and the American on the other side of his device. The telephone office was kept open all night, to be ready for any possible want, and the locomotive with steam up for any possible service. The Custom House floated on its main staff only the American flag during the entire time of the unloading of the “Tynehead,” from Saturday morning until Tuesday noon—three days and a-half. When all was finished at Riga, the last train on its way, all had been so well planned, so well done in every particular that we felt there was not the least necessity for any further attention on our part in looking after this charge. But to the donors at home Russia was a long way off; they had no personal knowledge of the people they were trying to help, and some critics had circulated misgivings about the gifts reaching their intended destination. Hence, that we might be prepared to give a report from personal observation for the satisfaction and the gratification of the people at home, who had contributed these stores, it was decided to see how some of the final distributions were made.

Our first objective point in the famine district was the Province of Nijni Novgorod. But we must go by Moscow, where by the courtesy of Count Bobrinskoy a telegram was received, stating that his brother would pass through the city to the famine district, and his company could be made available, if desired. Such an opportunity was not to be lost, and our course is changed to the south, first by rail to Bogorodizk, thence by droschky to Michailovskoi, to the house of Shestoparoff, manager of the beet sugar mills of the Bobrinskoys. Here the home taste and appearance of everything inside make one feel as if he were in his own New England home, although not a word of English is heard. After breakfast the next morning we go to the distributing station, which is supported by the Bobrinskoy family in one of the sugar mill buildings. Here we find the doctor, the baker, the soupmaker, several of the first ladies of the place, great cauldrons of excellent soup, tea, milk, Nestle’s food, rye and corn bread—the tea and milk are for the sick and for the children—and the doctor, who is familiar with every family, directs who shall receive and what. The bread and the soup are served on regular account, the houses and families all having been visited and the condition of each carefully recorded. As soon as one is able in part to care for himself the bread is sold at a moderate price.

A number of villages are supplied from this bakery and kitchen, and this is but one of nine carried on by this family entirely at their own expense. In the afternoon we visit different villages, some twenty houses or more. We find two Red Cross nurses from Moscow, who are at work and have their home with the peasants. In four months one has lost but four cases; the other but two; and the average number of sick in the past four months by the doctor’s report is three hundred. The peasants say they would rather do without the doctor than be without the nurses in the village.

The peasants’ home consists of one or two square rooms, built of logs, stone, or mud bricks, with floor of earth, and furniture of boards. One quarter of the room is given up to the brick oven, which is so constructed that it serves not only for a stove, oven, cupboard, and bed in cold weather, but the chickens and small animals find protection from the cold underneath during the severe cold weather. Usually a large horizontal pipe of terra cotta passes overhead and out through a thatched roof of straw, which is often two feet thick. The fuel may be wood, straw, or dry dung; fuel is scarce. A deep cellar, well covered, outside, may hold potatoes, roots, etc. The cattle and other animals find shelter in a room adjoining the family. At Bogorodizk another royal family, in addition to work similar to the above named, supplied the peasants with raw material for spinning, weaving and making of native goods and garments both for themselves and for the market, which the countess found either at home or by sending them to the larger cities. Through letters of introduction we had the good fortune to find Count Tolstoi on his estate at Yasnia Polonia.

When the count was asked his opinion of the cause of the existing conditions, he said the government might not like to have him say that the peasants should have more land and own it themselves—that now they have only enough in the best seasons to give barely food for their support, and when a year of scarcity comes, they cannot help being destitute. When asked if there had been improvement in their conditions since the emancipation, he said if that meant in the way of property, financially, no, but mentally there had been progress and development.

One of the first questions Count Tolstoi asked was, “What do you think of most? I would excuse him for such a question; but he always liked to get into sympathy with the person he was talking with and to know how to understand him. What subjects occupied my mind most when going to sleep?” etc.

At night I slept in the library surrounded by English and American books and magazines.

When asked about the demoralizing effect of giving free help to the peasants, as said by many, he thought that an excuse of those who did not want to help. The peasant was never so unhappy as when out of work and had nothing to do. Even a day’s idleness was tiresome to him, and he did not think that a people who had been worked to their full endurance for a generation were going to be demoralized by giving them soup when they were hungry.

Peasants were coming at all hours of the day to see the count. At dinner time two had been waiting several hours. The Count let the dinner go on, and stopped to read a long paper they had brought; read it through carefully; had a long talk with them; unfolded the paper again to look over passages more carefully; after further talk he read again, and told me after they were gone, for I remained with him, that they were having a law suit and had come to him for advice, and so far as he could judge, the peasants were in the right.

When I bade him good-bye he said, from what he had heard of Miss Barton, he felt that she must be a very near relation, and wished me to give her his love.

Starting again for Nijni Novgorod we meet at Moscow Mr. Frank G. Carpenter, the writer and lecturer, who accompanied us through the Volga and southern districts. Leaving Moscow in the evening by the fast express, we reached Nijni the next forenoon at ten. Here we were entertained by the governor. The city of Nijni Novgorod has a population of about sixty thousand ten months of the year; during the other two months its population is increased to six hundred thousand. This extra population from the twenty-seventh of July to about the fifteenth of August inhabit the “dead city” in which not a single family lives the rest of the year. Yet it contains one of the largest and finest buildings in Russia, and not a match nor a cigar can be lighted at any time under penalty of twenty-five rubles. The “dead city” is built at the junction of the Oka River with the Volga, so that it is yearly inundated to the ceiling of the first stories, when the spring rise of forty feet or more comes with the melting of the snow. Here, too, is located one of the largest churches of Nijni, and on the Volga side the Siberian wharves.

In the living city is the residence of the governor on a clay bluff four hundred and seventy feet above the river, with the business part at the foot of the bluff adjoining the river. Nijni being in direct line of free river transportation as well as railway connection between St. Petersburg, Siberia, China, and the Caspian districts, the Caucasus, the oil region of southern Russia, with its wine, grain and fruit districts, make this city a great commercial centre. And the pulse of famine or plenty is probably felt here as soon as in any part of the empire.

In the two months named, traders from nearly every European and Asiatic country gather here with every variety of goods and product that can be carried by rail, water, or caravan: grains, hides, leather, teas, metals, precious stones, fish, meats, cloths, silks, peasants’ works and weavings; and the great sandbar in the river Oka of several hundred acres is covered with Siberian iron. Electricity furnishes light where needed, for it will be remembered that it is light enough in this latitude to read at midnight in summer time. Here are also royal quarters for the governor and State officials, whose social and executive residences are in the “dead city” during the entire time of the fair, in which time the governor is an absolute czar in power. To give briefly a Russian view of the famine and how it was felt in a single province and the Russian manner of dealing with it I give the following abridged account:

Nijni claims to have been the first provincial government of Russia to take active measures to relieve the sufferers by famine. The first news came to the governor from reports of dry weather in his province in May, 1891, for the crops of the three preceding years had been short, and at this time the peasants had begun to ask for bread, having already sold a part of their horses and tools; and only two of the eleven districts had sufficient bread for their people.

Without waiting to consult the general government, in order to save time, the governor took the responsibility upon himself of immediately purchasing one hundred and twenty-five thousand poods (a pud is about forty pounds), or twenty-two hundred tons of grain, and sent this in the early part of June to the districts most affected by the drouth. He used his influence to stop speculation in grain, Nijni being a great grain centre, and formed a commission from all the districts to carry out relief measures. It was after this that the Department of the Interior appropriated one million rubles ($550,000) to buy bread.

It has been a custom in Russia that when a loan is made to the poor peasants that the rich peasants of the community are held equally responsible for the payment; hence they have fallen into the habit of claiming an equal apportionment whenever loans have been made for relief measures in times past. Thus the Zemstvo (the elective magistrates of the village) have the power in themselves to say that they had not ordered nor asked for the grain, and refuse to receive it for those really needing it. Hence the governor of Nijni ordered that only those receiving should be charged with the loan.

The whole loan here received was 6,350,000 rubles, all of which except 150,000 rubles had been distributed when we visited the district.

In the nine needy districts of Nijni Novgorod Province there were 587,000 persons needing assistance that were excluded from the government loan as being between the ages of fifteen and fifty-five—“therefore able-bodied and able to work.” The Nijni governor followed his judgment rather than the instructions of the Minister of the Interior, and seeing that this amount was insufficient and that no provision had been made for cattle and horses, he tried to get permission to begin public works in order to furnish labor and pay to those needing it; but this was not secured until December, when 3,000,000 rubles were appropriated for roads, 420,000 rubles for town improvements, 40,000 for schools and churches. From eight to ten thousand men were given work in the woods at fifty kopeks, 27 cents, per day, and one ruble and fifty kopeks, about 77 cents, per team.

To secure a general interest of the people the governor made every public commission (boards of directors, trustees, etc.), take an active part in the relief work. He created commissions among the nobility to superintend relief work, combining the Red Cross, the churches and other individual organizations all into one committee, so that when the Crown Prince’s committee was formed on the twenty-eighth of December 341,550 rubles had been received and distributed besides 52,020 poods, 2,080,800 pounds, of bread which had been given to those who had no right to the governmental loan.

By contributions three hundred and thirty-one kitchens were established in villages, giving meals for one-half to two kopeks per meal. Nijni, with a living population of sixty thousand, contributed one hundred and ninety thousand rubles. Places were established in Nijni where twenty kitchen meal tickets may be purchased for one ruble. The citizens buy these and give to such as they desire to help.

From Nijni we take steamer down the Volga, and through the kindness of Mr. Zeveke, owner of the American Steamboat Line, so called because American names are given to all of his twelve large steamboats, we are allowed time to visit each town on the Volga, as we pass down the river. At each place the grain has been received and being used. At Samara we find Mr. Bezant, one of our consignees, just recovering from the typhus which was contracted in his relief work. And we get direct reports from Count Tolstoi, Junior, whose work is in this province farther to the east, and Prince Dolgoruhow, another consignee in the district of Burulich; these have ten carloads of the “Tynehead’s” corn, and are saving the lives of many. At this time the Province of Samara alone had lost five hundred thousand cattle, as many horses and 1,500,000 sheep from the famine.

At Volsk we saw many people around the church. The bells in a dozen different towers all ringing; from another church a large procession of a thousand people were coming, bearing on high poles crosses and banners and icons. They are joined by the people from the first church, with their crosses and banners which are not raised till the first procession is joined, and all march in their variegated red and yellow and bright colored dresses, with bare feet and uncovered heads in the broiling sun, miles away to the open fields to pray for rain, which has still been withheld from this section of Saratoff Province.

The town of Saratoff has a population of 125,000, contains many Germans, from having been one of the German colonies founded by Queen Catherine during her reign, to encourage agricultural industries. Here as in Volsk we found the people in the fields praying for rain, and in the evening it came. Here we met Mr. Golden, an Englishman, who has been the active agent in the Saratoff district, and Mr. Muhler, a German, who has been the active worker on the east side of the Volga in Samara Province. Both these gentlemen, together with a Catholic Bishop, say that the American help, both in material and money, came so timely that it saved thousands of lives that otherwise must have been lost. It came when they could get nothing from other sources, and their thanks to America are unbounded. The relief was “as if the Lord had ordered it.” Of the “Tynehead’s” cargo, Saratoff received fifty-three carloads and the Province of Samara one hundred and four cars.

There was a small quantity of the corn that got wet when put into the ship during a rain in New York, and had begun to heat when unloaded. This was sent to Saratoff with a suggestion that they use it for their cattle, but when we reached that place the peasants had washed the corn and dried it, and said it made very good bread.

As a typical incident and as an expression of the universal feeling throughout Russia:—when we reached the platform of the station at Saratoff to start westward, a Russian gentleman who could speak a little English, and another one and his wife who could not, came to the train, with an attendant bearing champagne and glasses, and made a speech of thanks, expressing the gratitude of the people of Russia to America for the heartfelt sympathy she had so beautifully expressed. The help she had brought to their people in a time of distress made every Russian feel to want to personally express his thanks. Wishing every success to its representatives, they drank to America and bon voyage.

To see some of the smaller consignments, on our way eastward from Saratoff we stopped at an inland station and went into the country some miles near Tambof, where two carloads of corn had been consigned. Here it was being ground in the wind-mills and made into the old-fashioned New England rye and Indian loaves and baked in great, brick ovens, just as we had found in other places.

Referring back to Riga. After the last car had been sealed and the way-bills sent, we were speaking of the harmony and unity that existed in all the different branches of this relief work, and it incidentally came out that the count and his family were carrying on an extensive system of relief among the peasants in the famine district, supplying some thirty villages with rye and corn bread, obtaining their corn from southern Russia, with soup, broth and tea for the sick and Nestle’s food for the babies—the latter an experiment of his own. It was suggested that in such an extensive work as this he should have had some of the American corn, but he replied they could get on very well without it; that his family had taken that work upon themselves to do at the beginning, and would continue to do it until next August and did not need other help. I expressed a desire to see this work, which I later found was a fair sample of what is being so quietly done all over Russia that its extent is unknown until one comes upon it. And it was at Michailoviski that we had the pleasure of seeing some of this work.

Everywhere we found people of all classes giving their time to the work of relief to supplement the governmental help; and this does not mean simply directing, superintending, or planning work for others to execute, but I found men giving up their own business, the attention of their estates, to see personally to the detail as well as the general work. I found cultivated, intelligent, refined women making their homes in the huts of the peasants, where they could be nearer their work. I found countesses working in the huts of the typhus hospitals, or taking the sick into their own homes, giving up social enjoyments and personal comforts, their own plans, in order to make their work of relief more effective. If the official side of Russia is subject to criticism, as sometimes claimed, surely the quiet, personal work and self-sacrifice of its people in this calamity is an example for any Christian land.

Sitting at the hotel table Count George told how his conscience would protest against a good dinner after he had returned from his investigating tours in the famine district to learn the situation, as a member of the Grand Duke’s Committee, for, “the ruble spent for wine and coffee would keep a peasant child or mother a whole month.” But he says when he got back to St. Petersburg a few days away from the distressing scenes, his mind occupied with other business, it did not trouble him at all to eat a good full meal just as he had done before.

On another hand to show how suffering continues in any place from lack of competent oversight this incident will show.

When going over the ground to see how the relief work had been done for his committee, he came to a village that was in a very bad condition. Many sick and dying for want of food, he asked the Zemstov if a kitchen could not be established. The reply was no; there was no one to manage it. “But,” he said, “you have a school here; the teacher can take charge of the kitchen.” “No; he is not capable; he is too slow and of no account, and we intend to get rid of him as soon as we can get someone to take his place. There is not a person in the village that could conduct a kitchen.” The count in his rounds came to the school house and found, as he had been told, that the school-master did look miserable enough in an old, worn and even ragged coat, and learned that he had not received his wages for some months; there was no money to pay him. His roll showed a list of sixty pupils; there were but fifteen present. When asked where the others were, he replied that it was so near the holiday time—only ten days—that he had let them go home. The count turned to one of the boys and asked if he had had anything to eat to-day, expecting him to say no; but he said yes; “he had a warm soup this morning.” The same question to the second boy, with the same reply; and so on with all the fifteen. When asked where they got their soup, they said the master had given it to them, and had been doing so for some weeks.

The master stood in the corner with his face very red, looking very much ashamed. It was then learned that when the school-master found his pupils coming to school without food, he began to use the savings he had laid by, to feed them, until his purse would not allow him to continue with so large a number; and he had let all but the fifteen go, and he was feeding and teaching them from the savings of other years. The count said he could not pay him his wages due, but he furnished the village with the means for a soup kitchen, and the master was put in charge and conducted it in such a manner that no one thought of his being an incompetent manager.

The shipping of the cargo of corn in the “Tynehead” to the Baltic in a voyage of twenty-eight days and its distribution through Russia answers a number of questions that were raised when the proposition to send corn to Russia was contemplated. These questionings came from business men, shippers, boards of trade, the produce exchange and philanthropists, and by some it was stoutly asserted that corn could not bear ocean transportation that distance without spoiling.

And if it should pass without spoiling, it was affirmed they had no mills to grind it in Russia, that the peasant knew nothing about corn, that they could not change their habit of living, and therefore would be unable to make use of it, if received. One of the leading business men of the country went so far as to write that we might as well ship a cargo of pebbles as a cargo of unground corn. Hence there was a degree of satisfaction to see the entire cargo, with the exception of a small quantity referred to loaded in the rain, come out of the ship in as good condition as when it was put in the hold, and to find in our journey in the interior that the peasants even needed no suggestion about grinding it in their windmills, which were amply sufficient.

But when the little corn that had heated was sent to Samara with the suggestion that it be used to feed the cattle, with four additional days in the hot state in the cars, and this was still used by the peasants and called good, it removed any doubt that might be forced into one’s mind that a starving peasant would die rather than eat a food that he was not accustomed to.

Referring back to St. Petersburg, after our list had been made up for the general distribution of the cargo, Mr. Hilton carefully went over it and said, from his personal knowledge of the people to whom the consignments were to be made, he would be willing to personally guarantee that 80 per cent of everything sent according to the list would be honestly and faithfully distributed, just as the donors wished, and he further believed that the remaining 20 per cent would be as faithfully handled.

My trip to the various places of distribution, widely separated and at unexpected times, confirmed Mr. Hilton’s belief that the entire cargo could not have gone through better hands in any land.

To be able, after such observations and inquiries, to give this report is a satisfaction that repays for all the anxious care and responsibility naturally felt with such a charge.

To add to this, the deep gratitude expressed by nobleman and peasant alike, in capital or in far-away, unfrequented interior village, always the same, even the humblest peasant refusing compensation for any service rendered an American, manifests a genuine gratitude and friendliness to America and Americans which has characterized Russia during many years.

It is probable that there are few instances on record where a movement toward relief of such magnitude, commenced under circumstances so new, so unexpected, so unprepared and so adverse, was ever carried on for such a length of time and closed with results so entirely satisfactory to both those served and those serving, as this disaster, which, if remembered at all at the present day, is designated as the “Hurricane and Tidal Wave of the Sea Islands off the Coast of South Carolina.” The descriptions of this fearful catastrophe I shall leave to the reports of those who saw, shared its dangers and lived within its tide of death. They will tell how from 3,000 to 5,000 human beings (for no one knew the number) went down in a night; how in the blackness of despair they clung to the swaying tree tops till the roots gave way, and together they were covered in the sands or washed out to the reckless billows of the great mad ocean that had sent for them; of the want, woe and nothingness that the ensuing days revealed when the winds were hushed, the waters stilled and the frightened survivors began to look for the lost home and the loved ones, and hunger presaged the gaunt figure of famine that silently drew near and stared them in the face. How, with all vegetable growth destroyed, all animals, even to fowls, swept away, all fresh water turned to salt—not even a sweet well remaining—not one little house in five hundred left upright, if left at all; the victims with the clothing torn and washed off them, till they were more nearly naked than clothed—how these 30,000 people patiently stood and faced this silent second messenger of death threatening them hour by hour. Largely ignorant, knowing nothing of the world, with no real dependencies upon any section of its people, they could only wait its charity, its pity, its rescue and its care—wait and pray—does anyone who knows the negro characteristics and attributes doubt this latter? Surely, if angels do listen, they heard pleading enough in those hours of agony to save even the last man and woman and the helpless babe. Something saved them, for there is no record of one who died of starvation or perished through lack of care.

I have promised to leave these descriptions to those who saw. I will also leave the descriptions of the work of relief done at the field to those who so faithfully performed it, the members of my working staff and the volunteer workers of other fields who came to their assistance on this.

I place here the more important of the reports made to me at the time, but which have until now remained under seal, no general report of that field having been made. The main interest of these reports will consist in showing the methods of work adopted, not only to preserve so many people in life with so small means as we had at hand, but to preserve them as well from habits of begging and conditions of pauperism; to teach them self-dependence, economy, thrift; how to provide for themselves and against future want, and help to fit them for the citizenship which, wisely or unwisely, we had endowed them with. I will then, with the reader’s kind permission, simply show the open doorway through which we were called to enter that field and introduce the nationally renowned advocates and escorts who personally conducted us and placed its work in our hands.

About the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth of August, 1893, the press commenced to give notice, such as it could get over wrecked roads and broken wires, of a fearful storm coming up from the West Indies that had struck our coast in the region of South Carolina, sweeping entirely over its adjacent range of islands, known as the Old Port Royal group, covering them from the sea to a depth of sixteen feet, with the wind at a rate of one hundred and twenty miles an hour—that its destructive power was so great that it had not only swept the islands, but had extended several miles onto the mainland of the State.

I chanced to be familiar with the geography and topography of that group of islands, having lived on them in the capacity of war relief many months during the siege of Charleston in 1863–64. Knowing that they scarcely averaged four feet rise above the sea level, with no mountains, not even hills that could be called such, that the soft, sandy soil could not be trusted to hold its tree roots firm, that the habitations were only huts, to be washed away like little piles of boards—I thought I saw no escape for the inhabitants and that all must have perished; and so replied to all inquiries at first made as to whether this were not a disaster for the Red Cross to relieve, “No, there was nothing left to relieve.” Later and more reliable news brought the astonishing fact that it was estimated that from thirty to forty thousand had survived and were in the direst need. Was not this a call for the Red Cross? Still more emphatically, “No; if that is the case, it is beyond the Red Cross. Only the State of South Carolina or the general government can cope with that;” and again we closed our ears and proceeded with our work.

But the first week of September brought pitiful paragraphs from various Southern sources—one I recall from the governor of the State, in which he proclaimed his perplexity and great distress at the condition of these poor people, needing everything, and who, at that season of the year, with crops all destroyed, would continue to need; and closed by wondering “if the Red Cross could perhaps do anything for them.”

It would not do to close our ears or eyes against this suggestion, and I at once sought our congressional neighbor, General M.C. Butler, of South Carolina, then in the Senate, now on the Cuban Commission, asking his views. The response was such as would not have been looked for in that busy, hard-worked Senator, surrounded by a network of political wires, some of them only too likely to be “live;” he dropped all business, telegraphed at once to Governor Tillman at Columbia to learn the conditions and urgently requested us to go, and he would even leave his seat and go with us as soon as we could be ready. Time is never a question with the Red Cross, and the next night, in a dark cheerless September mist, with only two assistants, I closed a door behind me for ten months, went to the station to meet General Butler, prompt and kind, and proceeded on our way. At Columbia we were joyfully surprised at meeting Governor Tillman, prepared to accompany us, with a member of his staff, and thus powerfully reinforced we made our entrance into Beaufort.

The work of relief had been wisely placed at first in the hands of committees from both Beaufort and Charleston, comprising the best business men of each city—its lawyers, merchants, bankers, all men of prominence and known practical ability. They had done and were doing all possible for them to do, with hearts full of pity, hands full of work, themselves large losers by the storm, business nearly wrecked, and needing every remaining energy for the repairing of their own damages and those of the citizens about them.

The governor, at whose request they had formed, realizing the necessities of the case, sought to release them, calling them together in each city and successively relieving them, placing the Red Cross in full charge of the relief. With the little knowledge we had of the conditions and surroundings, it would have been madness to accept, at least until both more knowledge and more numerical force were gained, and the refusal was as prompt as the proffer had been. We however promised to remain in Beaufort, meet with the committee each day, advise with them, study the situation and report our conclusions when we could safely arrive at them.

Thus we remained until the first day of October, when, realizing that the relief coming in from outside would soon diminish, as the excitement should wear away, that the sum in hand was painfully small, that the number of destitute was steadily increasing, that the winter was approaching and they must be carried through in some manner till the next year’s crops could grow; and that, in order to do this a fixed system of relief must be adopted, a rigid economy enforced and every person who could do so must be made to work for his food and receive food and raiment only in return for labor; that this could only come from persons who had no interests but these to subserve and with the light of all experience that could be called to the task. Even then a successful result was questionable; but there was no question of the fatal result of any other course, and after a thoughtful council of our official board (which had meanwhile become nearly filled) on the night of September thirtieth it was decided that the Red Cross would accept the appointment of the governor and enter upon its duties the following day.

Accordingly, at the meeting of the next day, October 1, 4 p. m., the Beaufort Relief Commission, as appointed by the governor, was formally released as a committee and immediately re-elected by the Red Cross as its “advisory board,” to meet and advise with us as we had done with them.

Through all these years the tenderness springs to my heart and gathers in my eyes as I recall the kindly and affectionate intercourse of months, without one break, that grew up between us. And although some have been called to higher service and greener fields, I am confident that none of us will ever seek on this side a better, more trusted, kindlier association than were found in these.

I desire to supplement the foregoing allusions to the storm by the full and ably rendered account of commodore, now admiral, Beardslee, then in command of the naval forces of that section, with headquarters at Paris Island. The admiral and his charming wife were our neighbors, and most efficient helpers through all our work:

Mrs. Beardslee and I were participators in the events and shared the dangers brought to the inhabitants of the Sea Islands of South Carolina by the terrific West India hurricane, with accompanying tidal wave, which desolated those unfortunate islands in August, 1893.

Since our recent return and while on the journey, and at New York, friends whom we have met, and new acquaintances, have almost universally exhibited much interest in the description of the situation of affairs on those islands, before, during and after the storm, and to many the simple details which were to us but household words, brought the first realizing sense of the magnitude of the calamity.

Miss Clara Barton, the president of the American branch of the International Organization of the Red Cross, who has the management of contributions and of the dispensing of aid among the Sea Islands now, and had occupied a similar position at Johnstown, made us her agents to dispense on one of the islands, where weekly we feed over four hundred persons, and I know we are but doing as she would wish, in continuing so to act, during our brief respite from our work.

Therefore I most cheerfully comply with the request, and trust that my efforts to interest and revive interest will not be in vain.

I will premise with a bit of geography: The coast of South Carolina is bordered for over a hundred and fifty miles by an archipelago consisting of hundreds of islands and islets from a hundred square miles to as many yards in area. These are nearly all well wooded with pine, oak, magnolia and gum trees. Many of them consist largely of arable land, which, before the war of the rebellion, was divided by hedges into great plantations, whereon the rich planters, aided by their hundreds of slaves, cultivated, besides vegetables of all kinds, the famous long staple “Sea Island cotton.” The islands are separated from each other and from the main land by arms of the sea, here called rivers, or creeks, according to their width and depth, some, as Beaufort, Broad and Coosaw rivers, from one to three miles in width and thirty feet in depth, and others, which, at low tide, are but marshes, with a thread of water.

After the war the large plantations were subdivided into five, ten and twenty-acre farms, which were by the government distributed among the “heads of families,” generally of the slaves who were left on them, and these negroes, with their descendants, still occupy these farms, living in comfortable cabins, each plantation having its own hamlet or colony. After the first shock of change was over, these negroes developed into orderly, industrious, thriving Christian communities. Each farm was thoroughly cultivated, and there was produced every year good crops of potatoes, sweet and Irish, peas, corn, melons and one or two bales of cotton, which, mortgaged to the local storekeeper, generally a white man, furnished them with groceries. All raised and owned horses, mules, hogs, cattle, turkeys, domestic fowls and ducks. All were owners of one or more buggies, carts, plows and other agricultural implements, and those who lived near the sea owned one or more boats, with outfit of nets and fishing gear, and from spring until winter the sea yielded abundant harvest of good fish, turtles, crabs, shrimps, prawns, clams and oysters, and the marshes furnished terrapin, which sold at very remunerative figures, as I well know, for the storm took from me nearly three hundred of them. Every cabin was comfortable, from their point of view, furnished, and in many were sewing machines, house organs and melodeons, and for every member of the family, however slightly attired on week days, a fine, often gorgeous, suit of Sunday clothes—and they are all church-goers.

The great barn-like structures that they build for churches are presided over by preachers of their own race—“reverence doctor” is the title—and are crowded. They have also smaller places of worship, called “praise houses,” where they assemble once or twice a week in the evening to indulge in “shouting” a mingled prayer, responding, singing, and when “spirit dun come pow’ful,” a wild, waltzing sort of a dance, such as I have seen in Africa. They have schools which troops of well-dressed children attend daily. There are lots of children, and but a very small portion of those under twenty have not quite a fair common school education. Said an old aunty to a lady friend of mine: “Has yer children, honey?” “Yes, aunty, I have three boys and one girl.” “Is dat all?” “Yes, isn’t it enough?” “Dat’s as the Lord wills, honey; to some He sends little litters and to some big ones. I’se got thirteen head and I’se dun loss four head.”

The climate is perfect, very little labor produces good results, and I think that without going more into detail you will all admit that the Sea Islanders were a happy, contented, very comfortably fixed set of people. So it was at the going down of the sun on the twenty-seventh day of August, 1893. When the sun rose the next morning, hundreds of those cabins had been swept from the earth, with all they contained. Over thirty thousand of those people were homeless, clotheless, foodless, with no resources. Over eight hundred were dead (the figures are from actual census). A hurricane on its way from the Gulf of Mexico to the north had swerved somewhat from the usual course of these storms, its centre, instead of following the Gulf Stream, had come in over the land, and the great uprising of the surface of the sea, which always occurs at the calm centre of these storms, caused by the low atmospheric pressure, as shown by low barometer, had, instead of dissipating itself on the surrounding ocean, inundated our islands to depths varying from one to ten feet according to the height of the land, the average height of the tidal wave, above high water, being about seven feet. Thus the surface of each island was a sea, and driven by the tremendous force of the wind over a hundred miles per hour, as recorded at Charleston, north of us, and at Savannah, south, into death-dealing waves.

The houses, all built on posts two to four feet above ground, came down like card houses. Some collapsed and crushed their inmates on the spot; others went drifting off with men, women and children clinging to them, until falling to pieces they dropped their living freight into eternity. Some escaped by seeking shelter amid the branches of the giant pines and oaks; some were so saved, but others had but found death traps, for yielding to the force of the wind, many were thrashed to death by the whipping branches, or knocked off into the raging sea below. And among the thousands of these trees which were uprooted, or twisted off, were many on whose branches people were clinging. I knew nothing of what was occurring on other islands than the one we were dwelling on, Paris Island, where I am in command of the naval station; for, deprived of every means of communication with the outer world by the destruction of all railroads and steamers that connected with us, telegraph and telephone lines down, and all of my boats either sunk or wrecked, our own affairs had my entire time and attention.

I have been a sailor for forty-five years, and as such have battled with many tempests, but on my own ship, with plenty of sea room, I have known what to do to increase safety and lessen danger. But in this case I was nearly helpless. Fortunately I alone knew this, for I was now surrounded by those who looked to me for help. I was forced to “keep a stiff upper lip,” but the task was not a slight one. My house is a two-story frame, built on brick piers, about sixty rods from the beach. Between it and the water were six negro cabins and two quite large houses. Shortly after sunset the weaker of them succumbed, but the tide was not yet so high but that my men succeeded in saving from the wrecks the women and children, all of whom were carried first to the largest of the two houses. About 11 p.m. the tide was at its height, and there came driving onto my lawn and under my house great timbers, wrecks of houses, wharves, and boats, and fortunately a large flat boat, called a lighter. Some of the braver of my men captured this boat by plunging in up to their necks and pushed and pulled it to the house where the refugees had gathered, at which the screams told us there was trouble. They got there just in time to rescue about fifty and brought them to my house.

During all this time the rain was falling in torrents and every person was soaked through, and as the wind was from the northeast, the rain was cold, and they were chilled through. An attempt to get up a fire in my kitchen stove disclosed the fact that my woodshed was gone and there was no wood. Some empty packing boxes in the garret were utilized; then a big pot was put on to make coffee. We then found that excepting in a few pitchers there was no fresh water. My cistern had been overflowed by the sea. Fifty men were put to bailing and pumping, and weather boards from my shed and servants’ quarters were quickly extemporized into gutters and pipes—then the rain proved a blessing, and we were saved from water famine. But there were chances of a food famine. My storerooms and those of my only white neighbor, the civil engineer of the station, held all of the food on the island, and there were hundreds to feed. Fortunately it was Sunday. Saturday is our marketing day, and we had a week’s supply under ordinary circumstances, but with such a lot of boarders we had to handle it very sparingly.

By daylight the storm had modified and the sea subsided. Then came work. First of all my mules and carts were started with search parties for drowned people. Before night there were nine such laid out in my coal shed. To those we gave Christian burial, but to twelve others found during the next forty-eight hours, guided by the buzzards that had begun their feasts, we for sanitary reasons had to treat them as we did the many carcasses of animals, bury them at once where we found them. On the second day I captured a passing sailboat, one of the very few left, and obtained from Port Royal a big load of provisions, with which I started a store, paying the big gang of laborers that I had employed with checks on the store, where food was furnished at cost.

On the fifth there came to us a great blessing. The Red Cross Association had been appealed to and had responded. Miss Barton, its president with her staff of physicians, nurses and other trained people, came, investigated and took charge of us, and under their systematic, business-like methods, taught them by much experience in many great calamities, are now keeping, and will keep, as long as the good people of the country will furnish the means, starvation away from this miserable mass of humanity.

It may be that in this favored part of the country, where cyclones and earthquakes do not occur, many of your readers know little of this organization. I will tell them a little and close. During our war, in 1863, a congress composed of representatives of the leading nations of Europe met at Geneva, Switzerland, its object being to make such international rules as would tend to lessen the horrors of war and alleviate the suffering. The United States was invited to participate, and Miss Clara Barton, a woman even then well known for her career of charitable deeds, and for her abilities, was afterward selected to bring in the United States to the treaty. Miss Barton secured for the United States the privilege of adding to its war relief that of sufferings from storms, earthquakes, floods and other calamities due to natural causes. This addition is known as the American amendment. An American branch was formed, of which Miss Barton was elected president. She has a large and able corps of experienced assistants scattered throughout the Union, ready to respond at once to her call and hurry to place their services, free of cost, at her disposal. This corps of helpers take nothing for granted; they investigate for themselves and learn accurately just who need help, and how much, and what kind. Books are kept, and every penny or penny’s worth accounted for. The Red Cross does not, as a body, give charity—it dispenses intelligently that of others. The body is your and my agent to see that what we choose to give shall be honestly and intelligently put where it will do the most good. Its members, from principle, do not beg. It is their business to present facts to the public and let every man, woman and child act on his or her unbiased judgment. She has done me the honor to accept my service as an amateur. I am not quite so strictly bound by the rules as are the members, therefore if anyone detects a little tendency to beg in this article it is my fault, not that of the Red Cross.

At this present time Miss Barton has her headquarters in Beaufort, where she has chartered a large warehouse, over which she and her staff camp out, living, although I am told she is well off, in the plainest of styles. Her desk is a dry goods box, with a home-made drawer; her bed, a cot. Her agents are distributed on the various islands, living in negro cabins and tents. The Red Cross flag floats in their midst, and the food, clothing and other articles are served to the crowds of negroes, and trained nurses and physicians are caring for the sick and wounded. Hundreds of men are laboring digging drains to get clear of the brackish swamp water left by the mingling of sea water and rain, building houses and boats for the helpless, and the colored women, made beggars by the storm, have been organized into sewing societies, which repair all ragged garments sent, turn ticking into mattress covers, homespun into garments.

There is now being served out, once a week, the following rations, which is all that her stock of stores allows: To a family of seven persons for one week, one peck of hominy, one pound of pork. To those who work for the community, double the above. To sick people, a small portion of tea or coffee, sugar and bread. She would gladly double or quadruple this allowance, but she has not the material.

Thus it stands. There are 30,000 American citizens who must be almost entirely supported by charity until they get a spring crop in April or May. Unless they are furnished with food they will starve, without bedding they will die from exposure; without medicines, of fever. Everything not perishable is needed, especially money to buy lumber, nails, bricks and hardware to rebuild the houses, cast-off and warm clothing, cooking utensils, pans, pots, spoons, etc. Most of the express companies send free all articles directed to:

Miss Clara Barton,
President Red Cross Association, Beaufort, S.C.
For storm sufferers.

In response to further inquiries Admiral Beardslee furnishes us the following:

There is a very small population of whites living on the Sea Islands, and of them the greater number are storekeepers, supplying the negroes and taking mortgages on their growing crops, principally the cotton. As nearly all of the crops, including the cotton, which was nearly ready for picking, were ruined, these storekeepers, in addition to great direct loss by the flood, which swept away their storehouses, have lost largely by unrecoverable debts, thus they are not able to do much toward the relief of the sufferers. * * * Among the sufferers there are a few white families, generally descendants of the old-time planters, who, having recovered by purchase small portions of their family property, have made their living by hard work as farmers and truck growers. They are, in some cases, reduced to abject poverty.

The merchants of the city of Beaufort lost heavily. Most of the principal stores were on Bay street, their storehouses stretching out on the wharf. All of these with the back buildings on them were swept away, and the merchants are not in position to give much help. Nearly all of the old Southern families were impoverished by the war and can do little, and that little is to a great extent very naturally bestowed upon the negroes and their descendants, who were at one time their slaves.

The State of South Carolina is poor, one of its greatest sources of revenue, the phosphate business, which paid in royalties nearly $600 per day into its treasury, and expended thousands of dollars weekly, in payment of labor, was badly crippled and temporarily, at least, ruined. All of the dredges, lighters and most of the tugs and many of the “mines,” the great establishments where the phosphate rock is dried, crushed and prepared for export, were destroyed. * * * *

While anything or everything eatable, wearable or usable in any shape will do good, I would suggest as most valuable, money with which to buy lumber and hardware to rebuild houses, and food, hard bread, hominy, pork and cheap groceries, warm cast-off clothing, thick underclothing, cooking utensils, such as frying pans, tea kettles, pots, pans, etc., second hand as good as any, and children’s clothing, of which but a limited supply has been received.

There will be no necessity to mend up clothing, the sewing societies will do that and prepare for use bedticking, homespun and cloth of all kinds.

Next to the account of Admiral Beardslee, I desire to place that of Mr. John MacDonald, who, from having faced death in the rigging of the ill-fated “Savannah” for three days, enduring every privation and danger that could be endured, still lived to come to us, and to generously volunteer his services to the Red Cross as one knowing how to feel for those with whom he had suffered in common. After a visit to the northern end of the islands, and a full verbal report to us of their conditions and needs, he went in a like capacity to the southern end, and finding less likelihood of other assistance there, decided to take this as his field and accordingly made headquarters at Hilton Head, where he did most efficient and praiseworthy work, drawing from the supplies at Beaufort such as could be spared from the needs of the other hundreds of distributing points.

The work of Mr. MacDonald and his capable wife (for he married while there Miss Ida Battell, a charming trained nurse from Milwaukee) was intelligent and comprehensive to an uncommon degree, not only relieving the colored population of the entire island, but raising them to a higher degree of industrial intelligence and self-help than they had ever dreamed of. I desire to tender in behalf of friendless humanity my grateful tribute of thanks to Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald for faithful and efficient service.

On the night of August 27, 1893, while en route from Boston to Savannah on the steamer “City of Savannah,” the terrible devastating cyclone, which swept over the Sea Island Coast of South Carolina, was experienced by me in all its awfulness, terminating in the wreck and complete break up of that magnificent ship, and the terrible suffering and endurance of three days lashed to the rigging, without food or water and facing and hourly expecting death. Where could help come from? All the boats and ships in these waters had probably met the same fate as ours. All hope of help from nearby was abandoned, and our eyes were fastened on the North with anxious watchfulness. On the third night, when all hope had died out, in the darkness shot up a bright signal light—the last we had on board—and in a few moments another light shot out into the sky about two miles away; our cry for help was answered! Out of the North came help to us, and after the perilous work of rowing from one ship to the other, trip after trip, through breakers and high-running seas, we were saved and carried into port.

On arriving in Savannah and seeing from the papers, as the reports slowly came in, the awful wreckage which had been wrought on the islands, my sympathies were naturally aroused, for who could better know what these people must have passed through? When, a few days later, the call was issued for the Red Cross to assume control of the relief work, I abandoned the plans which had brought me South and joined Miss Barton’s forces.

A first inspection of the devastated district was appalling, and even as the scenes of distress, sickness and destitution became more familiar, its sadness did not wear away. Here were pretty islands, where, a few days before, cotton had been in its full luxuriance, corn almost ready for harvesting waving in the breeze, a bounteous harvest smiling in the faces of a contented people, their little homes intact and comfortable and each one congratulating himself and each other on a prosperous season as the fruits of their labors. Yes, prosperous, for to these colored people, whose needs are small, whose ambition receives no stimulus, fifty or sixty bushels of corn is a bounteous harvest. But the storm came! In a few hours neat cottages were a heap of ruins, scattered perhaps miles away; giant trees lay across the roads, twisted and knotted into almost impossible shapes; corn and cotton gone, and human beings—missing. Roads flooded with water, almost impassable, but still alive with people—here a mother looking for her children, a husband for his wife, children for their parents. There in the marsh, a dark object is seen lying prostrate. Onward they push, waist deep in water and mud, till they grasp the inanimate object, and after a moment’s silence a piercing wail announces another loved one found, dead. Go with them as they carry their dead home. Home! where is it? Gone! A few boards or branches of trees have been put together, tent fashion, covered with corn stalks and mud, and into this the family crowd, wet (for it rained incessantly nearly two weeks after the storm), hungry, sick, ragged and helpless, unable to think or act for themselves, dazed by the calamity which had befallen them; they looked around for some hand to lead them out of their pitiable condition, but everywhere the same wreckage and destitution faced them. But where should they look?

As we on the wreck amidst the breakers looked northward, so these people cast their eyes thither and sent out a plea for help. Hoping against hope, they lingered on, until, when everything seemed darkest, a gleam of light shot out of the Northern sky and help came quickly; they were saved from starvation. They grasped at the finger of help extended to them, as a drowning man at a straw, and with a supreme effort dragged themselves out of a listless, apathetic condition and endeavored out of chaos to bring order. With such a vast territory, and so many thousands of destitute people to care for, the task of systematizing the work was a heavy one. It was, however, divided into districts, and each willing helper entered on his labor with very little to encourage him, but with obstacles innumerable. How to get from island to island—boats all wrecked; how to get supplies to them; how to pick out the most needy cases to serve first when all were needy and the supplies scanty. The steam launch from the United States navy-yard was placed at my service and provisioned for a week.

I started out to the district assigned me, comprising the following named islands: Hilton Head, Pinkney, Harry Young, Savage, Hunting, Bull’s, Spring, Barataria and Dawfuskie, with Bluffton on the mainland south of Broad River, a treacherous stream, four miles wide, which received the full fury of the Atlantic and renders navigation by small craft hazardous. To prevent as far as possible any imposition on the part of applicants for relief, who were not in absolute necessity, I made my inspection from house to house, going into their corn cribs and estimating from their supply on hand how long they could exist without assistance. The condition of their houses, clothing and sickness in their families was also carefully noted. The stagnant water lying on the land, with no outlet, the hot sun, beating down on decaying animal and vegetable matter, the drinking water all polluted, had caused malaria in its worst form to be general amongst the people. With my medicine case constantly with me, scantily provided with quinine and other simple remedies, I relieved the cases as I met them, sending the worst cases to Beaufort, where they could be attended to by one of the doctors on the staff of the Red Cross located at headquarters.

After examining some three hundred families on Hilton Head Island, after driving from one end of the island to the other—fifteen miles—and being met on every hand with appeals for aid of every description, from young and old, from strong, healthy, able-bodied men to weak, tottering old uncles and aunties, I concluded that issuance of relief, without requiring some work from those able to work, would be demoralizing, and act as an incentive to people outside to flock to the islands, claiming assistance. What work should be organized was the next question. There were no ditches on the islands. Those which had been dug in ante-bellum times had become filled up. Had there been any outlet or drainage of any description, so that the waters could have run off the land, the loss of crops consequent on the heavy rains which followed the storm would not have been so serious. I therefore put those who were able to work digging ditches, those refusing to work I refused assistance. The result of this was that a total length of about thirty-seven miles of ditches, varying from two to four feet wide and from two to six feet deep, were dug. The benefit of this work was apparent during the summer and fall following, which was an unusually wet season, and in the bottom lands, but for these ditches, the crops would have been inundated. As it was, exceptionally good crops were produced, the health of the island was improved and a large area of otherwise waste land was reclaimed and rendered tillable.

After visiting my district I concluded to make Hilton Head my headquarters. There was no building available so tents had to be brought over for our use as storage, hospital, sewing and living accommodations. What willing hands to help make our camp comfortable! Some making cupboards, desks, stools, benches, bedsteads, out of old packing boxes, some gathering moss to lay on the floor as a carpet, and finally unfurling the Red Cross flag to the breeze and we were established. To simplify the work of issuing supplies weekly, I gave each family a card. On this I marked everything to be issued and each issue was crossed off, preventing it being presented twice in one week. It also enabled the old and sick to send by children or any one else, and receive the supplies without coming themselves.

How shall I describe our daily work? No regular hours, no routine, no system apparently, and yet everything went along in the twenty-four hours of duty as smoothly as possible. No regular hours? No; unless from sunrise to sunrise may be counted regular. No routine—no system? No; unless attending to everything as soon as it presented itself may be called system. At daylight the applicants would be around the tents waiting to see “Mr. Red Cross,” and from then on a steady stream of people, some sick, wanting medicine; some hungry, wanting food; some ragged, wanting clothes; some loafers, wanting anything they could get. As soon as this stream could be stemmed, and a little breakfast eaten hastily, came visits to the sick who were unable to come to us; and in all sorts and conditions of vehicles, from a shaky cart with an ox as motive power, to a roadcart behind a mule, we went wherever we were called. On returning to camp, deputations of applicants from other islands would be in waiting, and while eating dinner, these would be attended to. After this the men working on the ditches would be visited. When it became dark and everyone had gone home, we would visit our hospital tents, make patients comfortable for the night, and retire to our own tents, hoping to sleep, hoping against hope, for “the poor ye have always with you:” and this case was no exception, for at all hours of the night we were called out to go anywhere from one to six or seven miles, to attend someone who was sick or dying. In the midst of this work visits had to be paid periodically to the other islands in my district (where I had local committees to look after the distribution of supplies) often taking up two or three days. And what a scene of bustle our camp presented every Friday when the supplies came! Thirty or forty carts in line at the landing—the boat arrives—all hands help unload, and then load the carts, the number of sacks or boxes in each cart being marked down against the driver, and away they go to the camp, three miles away. As soon as they arrive, the crowd of waiting recipients hand in their cards, and as they are called in one by one, their bags ready opened, the “weekly ration” is quickly measured, dropped in, the card returned marked, and away they go. While all this is being done, a flotilla of small boats from the other islands in the district, is at the landing, and as each “captain” presents his order issued by me, my storekeeper gives him the supply for his island, and away he goes home, to enact the same scene with cards and empty bags and hungry people. Nor was this all. Houses must be built, lumber and nails measured and distributed (tents being provided for the houseless temporarily). Those whose houses were not damaged were required to help others rebuild. Their clothing had to be brought over, repaired and distributed. How this was done is shown in Mrs. Macdonald’s report.

This seems very simple to write about now after a year’s lapse of time, but it does not convey to the mind of the reader the constant anxiety resting on the mind of the Red Cross officer, with, as I had, 2,554 people in absolute need of all the necessaries of life; separated from Beaufort, the source from which I had to draw all my supplies, by Broad River, with the majority of the boats in this district rendered helpless by the storm—it was a matter of constant anxiety how I should get my weekly supplies for this large number of people, scattered over so large a territory, with so many rivers to cross. If the supplies were not here on time, think of these people having to tramp home empty-handed to hungry children, who could not understand that “it was too rough to cross Broad River.” With this difficulty constantly before me, it is a satisfaction now to put on record the self-sacrificing zeal of one colored man on Hilton Head Island—Ben Green—who placed his boat and the services of himself and men at my disposal and, without fee or reward of any kind, for several months, during good and bad weather, brought over the large amount of supplies required for this district. Another anxiety was, whether, when the boat went to Beaufort, sufficient supplies would be on hand to satisfy the demands of all the districts, or whether I should be put on “half rations.” Amid all this anxiety, there were occasional gleams of sunshine to cheer us in our arduous work, as, when I received from Miss Sarah S. Monroe, of 13 W. Ninth street, New York, two boxes of delicacies for the sick, and, after Mrs. Macdonald had cooked beef tea, corn starch, etc., and sent it round by little girls to the old and sick, how they would “tank de good Lawd fer sendin’ de buckra to look after us po’ cull’d folks;” how the name of “Miss Cla’ Ba’ton” was on everybody’s tongue, the infant girls named Clara Barton and the boys “Red Cross.” The self-appointed “Red Cross Deacons,” with an enormous Red Cross stitched on a piece of white cotton and worn on the left arm, were conspicuous in showing their gratitude for the bounty received. Then, when planting time came and seeds of every description and in large quantities were distributed to them, how eagerly they worked in their gardens, planting garden “yarbs” (herbs) and then their corn, cotton, etc. Our thanks are due to the J.C. Vaughan Seed Store of New York and Chicago (through Mr. Burt Eddy, their Southern Agent), for a large supply of potatoes and other seeds sent direct to me.

A brief summary of food supplies issued in my district shows:

There were 454 cases of sickness treated at the camp and 75 visits made to the sick at home. In May, with the vegetables and wild fruits in good supply and marketable, their crops all growing well, I asked the people, “Can you manage to get along now without further help?” They answered “Yes; we are thankful for what has been done for us, and will try to pull through till harvest, alone.” On the twentieth of May I issued a month’s supply to each family, took down the Red Cross flag and closed the relief work for this district. A year has passed since then. I am now a permanent resident on Hilton Head Island. I watched the crops grow, saw a good harvest gathered in, the people resumed their old-time cheerful tone, and the storm became a memory. With the exception of a very few old people who are hardly able to totter, and have no one to plant or work for them, the people of this island are again prosperous and happy. Occasionally some kind friend enables me still to make some old uncle or auntie happy with a little help, and so they totter down to “where the storms shall cease to roll.”

Accustomed as I had been, in Chicago and other large cities, to see a miscellaneous assortment of rags worn under the name of clothing, I was little prepared for the sight of the almost nude condition of the great mass of people, which came to my notice on first entering on the relief work of the Sea Island Sufferers. After a couple of days and nights spent in the clothing room in Beaufort, packing barrels and boxes for the Hilton Head District, we proceeded there and amid loud exclamations of “closen” had the freight hauled to our camp. Before an hour had passed we were besieged with applicants, but as our present supply was limited, we could only attend to a few of the worst cases, and these were told to come at ten o’clock the next morning. Having already procured the information regarding the families—ages, sex and number of children—we spent the time in putting into bundles suitable clothing for such as had been told to come. Fearful of being late, they began to assemble by daylight, and as each man or woman was seen emerging, “toting” the bundle, a hum of voices would assail the lucky one with “Bress de Lawd; what ye done get?” The experience with this first installment showed that some work must be expended on the clothing before distribution, to make it more serviceable. As the men were put to work in the ditches, so the women who were able to leave their families were called on for a week’s work each in the sewing tents; a sewing machine was borrowed from one, and Miss Mary Clark (who was put in charge) assorted the garments, giving to some patching to do, to others buttons to sew on, to others apparently useless garments to make into children’s clothing. When all got steadily to work, one would commence a patter song, the rest would quickly join in, and, to the accompanying rattle of the sewing machine, work and music blended. To hear them sing, one would hardly think they had just passed through a great calamity; but it was the calm which follows the storm—they knew their troubles were over, and they were going to get “kiverin” for the “chilluns.” How they worked! Garment after garment was quickly mended, examined by Miss Clark for faults, and then placed in its proper barrel, ready for giving away. When all the clothing had been repaired, the list of needy ones was examined, and, as before, the most needy told to come the next day. But the “most needy” generally included half the island, for telegrams never flew faster than did the news that clothes were going to be issued. Then, when the last garment had been issued, some happy, some dejected, they would go away to await the next issue. So week by week, a constant stream of barrels, boxes and bundles would be received, mended and given away to those who, many of them, hardly knew what a whole garment was. Occasionally one, more crafty than the rest, would try to excite extra sympathy by producing a goodly array of “motherless chilluns,” borrowed for the occasion, in the hope of getting an extra supply, not knowing that we already knew the full number and ages of each family. The system adopted by the Red Cross of first quietly getting its information complete, and then going to work, knowing what to do and how to do it, showed its value in preventing imposition, which must always be met with to some extent, in all charitable work. In this way 3,400 garments were repaired and given away in this district, besides shoes, hats, etc.

While the sewing was in progress in one tent, I helped attend the cases in the hospital tents, and made daily calls when necessary on patients who were unable to come to me. My experience in Hahnemann Hospital, Chicago, fitted me for this part of the work. In all this work the lack of suitable supplies had to be overcome. As soon as our busiest season had passed and the sickness had abated, I opened a free school in one room of our house, expecting to teach reading, writing and arithmetic to ten pupils. The attendance rose almost immediately to forty and we gave up another room to the use of the school, and I had one of the older pupils assist me with the younger ones. To Mr. Proudfit, of Morristown, N.J., are due our thanks for his generous contributions, enabling us to purchase slates, books and other school supplies.

In introducing the dual reports of Dr. E.W. Egan, I imagine that I realize something of the feeling of the Queen of Sheba when she proclaimed that the half had not been told. The practical, unswerving and unique method of procedure pursued by Dr. Egan with these thousands of ignorant, hungry wards and waifs would constitute an interesting study for the most advanced philanthropist. The problem, as he tersely states it, of how to make thirty thousand dollars feed and shelter thirty thousand people a year, was not easily solved; and yet, largely under his original calculation and undeviating faithfulness to his own plans, it was solved, and how successfully, all the years from that time to this have testified. The medical aid which he established among these poor, deluded sufferers was as if an advanced clinic from his Alma Mater, Jefferson College, or the University of Pennsylvania, had been suddenly opened in their midst. The old dislocated joints, broken bones, tumors, internal diseases, carried about and dragged on through years of pain, disappeared; they literally took up their beds and walked. Their faithful hearts, like their eyes, followed him in admiring confidence, as with hurried step and quick glance he passed among the distributers of the warehouse; and if he told them that a pound of meat and a peck of grits was enough for a week—all they could have and must be supplemented either by work, if obtainable, or fish or game, if it could be caught—there was no complaint, no demur: “The doctor said so, and it was all right.”

It is a comfort to me as I write to know that his skillful hand is now on the keys that have for such weary months locked in the untold agonies of the terrible dens in western Cuba, designated, for the lack of some more appropriate term, as “hospitals.”

The first official word of the Port Royal Relief Field, ambiguously called the Sea Island Relief Field, came to Dr. J.B. Hubbell, the general field agent of the American National Red Cross, with whom it was my privilege to be at Indianapolis, attending the annual reunion of the Grand Army, where, for the first time in the history of that organization, the Red Cross of Geneva took its place upon the arms of the surgeons, the ambulances and the tents which were regularly distributed along the line of march. Twenty-four hours found us en route to Beaufort, S.C., which was to be the headquarters of the American National Red Cross, through its year of effort to take care of 30,000 human beings living upon the islands, known as the “Sea Island” or Old Port Royal group, as they were called during the war, lying off the coast of South Carolina, between Charleston and Savannah, and which had been devastated by that memorable cyclone of August 27, 1893.

I reported to the president, at headquarters, for duty the twenty-eighth day of September, 1893. Upon arrival I found the president and field secretary quartered in an unused club house, using parts of billiard tables for dining purposes, desks made of dry goods boxes, crude furniture made in a day and nicely upholstered with manila paper—in short, it was camping out indoors.

The local relief committee was still in charge, Miss Barton and her staff meeting with them by invitation as an advisory board.

The Red Cross headquarters was the scene of busy census takers; men from every part of the field were constantly coming and going, bringing reports of the number of people, their condition, the condition of their homes and their needs.

Their reports were being carefully indexed and entered upon one great book for future reference, a record of the greatest relief field America has ever known.

October 2, came my “marching orders” which were, “Take charge of the warehouse and stores, make an inventory of them, disperse these men and rid this city of the demoralizing influence of idle people.” The doors were closed and preparations for an inventory begun.

The manner of distribution previous to November 2, though performed by willing workers, was not, could not be, that systematic distribution which comes only after years of experience.

The warehouse had to be cleaned, partitioned, shelved and made ready for the repacking, separating heavy from light goods, and getting ready for receiving and shipping. The inventory showed not enough food to keep ten families two weeks.

On November 9, the doors of all the departments at headquarters were opened. The question of remuneration for workmen’s services must be determined upon and a standard adopted. There were at headquarters twenty-five workmen in-doors—white and colored—beside the cartmen and out-door laborers.

A standard of fifty cents in value was adopted for a day’s work and was given in flour, meal, grits, pork, or whatever there was in the storeroom at the end of each day, and the next day an entirely new set of men was employed, and this daily change lasted over a month, thus distributing to over a thousand people something beside the regular weekly distribution.

Women were engaged to sew sacks and other light work (just as necessary as heavier), and they were paid in the same manner and at the same rate as men. Will some of my readers think that these women, some with large families to support, and all having some one depending upon them, should receive less than the men, because they were women?

Shovels, spades and axes came in a few days in response to an order from our president, and men were put upon the public roads to clear and improve their condition and repair the damage which the storm had done.

The tools were all marked before they left headquarters with a Greek cross—on the steel or iron part they were stamped with a steel die and the wood handles were burned with an iron die.

This marking served many purposes. There was an indescribable respect for the Red Cross among the people it served and its insignia was its representative which meant a great deal for them.

It removed a temptation; they were instructed that those implements were only loaned and must not see idle days, and were to be passed on to the next workmen when their labors were finished. The marking made them undesirable property and none were lost, though hundreds were at work all the time. Many were broken, and the pieces were returned to headquarters, mended and put into circulation again.

Other sets of workmen were those who opened old drains and made new ones through the low farming portions of the islands. These men generally worked one week in relays of twelve. (A more detailed account of these drains will be found in the general field agent’s report.) Six months later, when the high water came, a few who had refused to go into these relays of workmen and open the drains, lost much of their crop—could a rebuke have been more eloquent?

All the workmen were paid from headquarters through their overseer, who received the clothing, grits and meat, and proportioned it to each man. In all cases where a man worked, he received the regular weekly allowance of one peck of grits and one pound of meat, in addition to what he received for his work.

The spirit shown by these people, after they had been instructed in the demoralizing effect of free and plenteous distribution, was remarkable: they did not beg for food, they asked for work, and the Red Cross made work for them.

The relief supply was received at three points: the railroad station, about one and a quarter miles from headquarters, the steamer “Pilot Boy,” bringing goods from Charleston, and the “Alpha,” bringing a few goods from Savannah. Freight was brought to headquarters in small carts drawn by horses or cattle of any kind, and it was always an interesting sight to the stranger: the animals were driven with a bit, with ropes for harness, and in most instances the bend of a tree had been sawed out and used as saddles, on which were ropes or wire holding up the shafts, with burlap or crudely made cushions to protect the animal’s back—all indications of the primitive condition of a people who were to be the wards of the Red Cross for a year, but who were also to be given an object lesson in practical life which was more to them, more to the country, than the little allowance of grits and meat to which they must add something more to support their families. “They must not eat the bread of idleness,” said our president. “We must not leave a race of beggars, but teach them the manliness of self-support, and methods of self-dependence.”

The distributing was done through sub-committee men, representing anywhere from five people into the hundreds. They were the appointees of the local relief committee and retained to the end of the field, with but few exceptions. They came weekly, tri-monthly and monthly; those who came thirty and forty miles in crude boats were given supplies enough to last a month, for it was a long and sometimes difficult journey.

Each sub-committee man presented himself at headquarters and was referred, in his turn, to the main office, where an order was issued for whatever the notes of the investigating committee called for—grits, meat, nails, hatchets, saws, lumber and clothing the most frequent.

These orders were brought to the shipping room, where they were filled, marked with name of sub-committee man, his address and a Red Greek Cross, the insignia which would entitle it to protection and many times free transport to its destination. A complete record of this was made in the shipping room.

A most important step was the uniform issue to each person on the Red Cross books. How was it to be done? What could be done? All important questions were as familiar to each officer as his own department questions. The president would call her staff together (and many times it was in the small hours of the morning) and present the question for consideration. It was at one of these meetings the fact had been presented that the prime problem was “How to feed 30,000 people with $30,000 for one year?” It was evident that they must be provided with a way to produce something themselves, and to this end all assistance was given.

One peck of grits and one pound of pork to a family of seven for one week was the regular Red Cross supply, and this was given to all who needed assistance, and the laboring men received one peck and one pound for their work.

The description given us of the negro on our arrival was not flattering. “He cannot be trusted!” “He’ll steal anything he can get!” “You can’t make him work!” and similar expressions came from all sides. But Miss Barton had seen the negro before and knew the best way to lift him up, and her wisdom was manifest all through that field, as the splendid gardens (producing more than the people could eat or sell), the mended condition of the clothing, the division of cottages into rooms, the carefully selected, bottled and labeled seeds for next year’s planting, and the general elevation of their habits proved beyond argument.

They were treated like gentlemen and they felt the responsibility. They were trusted and told so, and they lived up to the trust. They were shown the necessity of work, and they worked like men and women. No race of people could have borne their affliction better, more cheerfully (they are pre-eminently a cheerful, happy people) and with less record of crime than did these 30,000 people, the vast majority of whom were negroes.

One important and erroneous impression among some of the less intelligent was that seeds were of little account which they raised in their own garden, and the proper procedure was to buy each year from the merchants “new and good seeds,” and that practice was common.

One day one of the sub-committee men brought in a very large, magnificent onion, and with some pride presented it as a result of his work, and said, “Miss Barton, if I could git some ob dat y’ar seed, I reckon I could raise onyun ’nough to pay fo a critter nex’ year.”

“Well,” said Miss Barton, “do you think you could not raise seeds enough from those onions?”

“Oh, bress you, no marm. You see dem ain’ good what we raise; we has to buy de seed.”

Then followed a long explanation and agricultural logic such as Jack Owen (for that is his name) had never heard before, and when he left he said: “To tink dat I could’n know befo’ dat a good onyun mus’ bring good seed, and dat good seed mus’ bring good onyun. I sabe my seed now, sho.”

When he returned to his plantation, he called his neighbors together and gave them as many of the instructive points as he could remember, and they now plant seeds of their own raising and have established, in a very crude way, an exchange of seeds from “up country” and neighboring islands.

An early crop was of great importance to the wards of the Red Cross, and our president began to look around for white potatoes, knowing their early productiveness. The merchants said the soil would not raise them; the negro would not take care of them; they did not know what they were, and if they did raise them, they would not eat them.

Inquiry showed them to cost $5.00 per barrel, and was it any wonder they did not eat them?

In the face of all this opposition Miss Barton ordered over one thousand bushels of white potatoes for planting. These were brought to headquarters and cut into small pieces (each having an eye or sprout)—a novel sight, the forty women cutting potatoes for seed. These were distributed from headquarters and from the two Red Cross sub-stations—Wadmalaw Island and Hilton Head Island—representing respectively the northern and southern end of the district. It is almost needless to add that the potatoes were planted, from which a fine crop was raised and eaten, and the people were grateful.

Corn for planting was another important distribution; 2200 bushels of corn were distributed, and a second crop raised by many who had never asked mother earth for more than one crop. There were many doubts among the people as to the possibility of a second crop, so a second planting was urged to get the fodder for their cattle, and the full corn in the ear rewarded their second planting.

The storm had left the sanitary condition of the islands in a very unhealthy state, and it became necessary to establish a medical and surgical department at headquarters.

Dr. Magruder of the United States Marine Hospital Service had done very efficient work in the vicinity of Beaufort, but many of the wells refilled with a brackish red-colored water and there were many cases of illness, two-thirds of which were fever, which, in the healthiest times, exists upon the islands.

It required many emptyings of the wells to get good water and many wells had to be abandoned, as good water could not be brought into them.

A clinic and dispensary was opened from 12 till 2 daily, at headquarters, and patients were required to see a local physician before they applied to the Red Cross, and if they could not get medical aid from any other source they were admitted and treated.

This precaution was taken to protect the local physicians, who were themselves heavy losers by the cyclone and could not afford to do as much as they wished to. There were some noble-hearted men among them who counted no sacrifice too great to relieve their fellow beings.

It is always the policy of the Red Cross to protect the merchants and people who have goods to sell, and giving in the way it does, it not only protects, but improves their business after the first effects of the calamity have passed off—say two or three months (according to the field) and it is conceded at every field where the Red Cross has worked, that it has left the locality more prosperous than even before its calamity.

The average number of patients treated daily between November ninth and April 2d at this clinic was seventy-three. Nights were devoted to seeing those patients who were unable to leave their beds, and this “out-patient” service was only made possible by the tireless, faithful and competent nurses who had volunteered their services to the cause of humanity and had been assigned to the medical department by Miss Barton.

Patients came from all parts of the field, and as there was no hospital, they were placed in families who were on the supply list, and something additional given for the care of the sick.

Sunday was given wholly to surgical cases and the operating room was often opened at daylight and not closed till dark; operations varying from a simple incised wound to a laperotomy were performed and the crude appliances often made the surgeon wish for a moderately well equipped operating room in one of our hospitals.

It would be difficult to write a very clear medical history of the majority of cases from a subjective examination, and I insert one as an example:

“I got a lump in de stomach here, sir” (pointing just above the pubic bone), “and he jump up in de t’roat and den I gits swingness in de head. Dat lump he done gone all over sometime; I fine him here and den he go way down in de leg.”

April 2. A telegram from our president (who was in Washington, D.C.), ordered me to the northern end of the district, with headquarters on James Island, and on April 4 the scarlet banner of humanity waved over a hastily arranged office where for two weeks from forty to fifty patients were seen every day, when it became evident the trouble was in their drinking water. A tour of the island showed wells only twelve inches deep and draining the surface for rods around. These were curbed, cleaned, dug deeper and in many instances filled up and new ones dug. Three barrels were generally sunk for curbing.

This labor was performed without a promise to pay, willingly and well, and it was not long before the daily number of applicants for medical aid on James Island was reduced to ten or twelve.

Medicines and surgical dressings were provided for the work in this district by Mr. E.M. Wister, of Philadelphia, Mr. John Wright, of Greenfield, Mass., and others. These gentlemen not only contributed, but came personally to the field to lend their aid, the former spending a week at a time in the Cumbahee River district, in a small crude boat, among the unhealthiest parts of the islands.

Many rough places were smoothed by Mr. W.G. Hinson, of James Island, who did much to lighten the work of the Red Cross representatives in his locality, and it is always a pleasure to look back upon his efforts to help the people in their affliction.

One of the great evils existing upon the islands is the charlatanism practiced upon the ignorant.

“Traveling doctors,” who never saw a materia medica, infest the country and sell every imaginable cure, as well as cures which are not imaginable.

Removing lizards, toads and various other things from various parts of the body is one form and perhaps the highest type of medical fraud. The “doctor” will declare the patient “conjured,” and at once contract to remove the offending spirit, the usual fee being five dollars; in 90 per cent of such cases, he takes a lien on a cow, horse, or pig, and finally, by foreclosure, gets the animal, for by the present unjust system of trial justices, almost any verdict may be rendered.

I was asked to see a case one evening which was described to be a sore arm. It was four miles distant, but the husband of the patient had driven over for me because “de pain is powerful bad, sir.”

I found the woman sitting in a chair, her right arm resting on a barrel that had been rolled in for the occasion, an immense poultice of bread, meal, feathers and numerous other ingredients wrapped around the arm, the whole weighing about three pounds. As I lifted the cloth I found a mass of the ordinary ground worms dead upon the surface. With a cry of pleasure, the couple said, “Dat ’em! Dat ’em! He tole us dat arm full of worm and sho’ ’nuf he come out.”

Could anything appeal more piteously; could it be more pathetic? Think, at our very doors exists such barbarity, while each year thousands upon thousands of dollars go as many miles to help a people far beyond some of the people of our own country.

I removed the poultice, washed the arm, and found a compound communicated fracture of both bones of the forearm.

Who could stand by such a picture with an unmoved heart or an unmoistened eye! Tell her the error? No; only asked her not to let strangers treat her when she was ill and advised her to go to some doctor she knew in the future.

Dried green peas coated with sugar was one of the staple drugs, and others as useless, but not as harmless.

I found there a grateful people. They would bring eggs, chickens, berries and all kinds of gifts, including money, and when told that the Red Cross never received pay for its work, it was hard for them to understand; but as weeks passed, they learned it and tried to help each other as they had been helped. On the first of June the medical distributing department of the American National Red Cross was closed and all the officers were ordered to headquarters, where the field was closed and the president and staff left for Charleston, to repack and ship to the northern district, June 7, 1894. Then came a few weeks at the Charleston Headquarters. Through the courtesy of Mr. Kaufman, his long warehouse (150 feet by 40 feet) was at the disposal of the Red Cross from the time it received the Charleston Committee to the close of its field, with privilege of occupying it as long as they wished.

Tents were pitched in this room and Miss Barton and her staff lived there until June 30, when the field was officially closed.

Miss Barton and her party went to Washington, leaving Dr. Hubbell, the general field agent and myself.

Crops of vegetables and corn, building and ditching were in progress and instruction was necessary, and this instruction was given as follows:

Each day we would meet from fifty to three or four hundred people and give them a good practical talk, with about these headings for notes:

“Owe no man anything.”

How to keep out of debt.

Don’t sell cotton before it is picked.

Plant more vegetables, and why.

Divide cottages into rooms.

Don’t mortgage, which was a continuation of the instruction given daily from the beginning of the field.

These talks were of much help and the islanders would drive miles to get the advice which they knew was given unselfishly.

However brilliant may be the scintillations lighting up the descriptions of the worker who sees a field for the first or the first few times, it is always to the steady-burning flame of the veteran of all the fields from the earliest to the latest, that we look for the steady light, by which we shall see the calm facts, and so far as possible, the machinery that moves the whole.

It will be remembered that Dr. Hubbell was the agent of the Red Cross in the Michigan fires of the North in 1881. We saw him in the snows of Russia, and now find him at the Islands. The doctor’s reports are always an unknown quantity. They may be but a few sentences; they may be many pages, but never too much. I will ask of him that he give his report independently, and not to me. The various topics which he will touch, render this preferable:

On this field there were many first things to be done. Among these were the feeding of the people, rebuilding the houses, cleaning out the wells, draining the land of salt water, clothing and placing the people in ways to help themselves; half a million feet of lumber to be rafted down to accessible points, from the mills on the rivers which emptied into the waters of these island inlets. While this was being floated down, the well men and women were instructed in different kinds of work: to take care of the helpless, rebuild their homes, and to provide shelter and food for themselves.

While the people of these islands, in great measure, own their little tracts of land, they retain the old plantation name for their home. These plantations usually contain from twenty to forty families. The inhabitants of each plantation were directed to select a representative from their own number who should be the representative and committeeman for that plantation, whose duty it should be to communicate with the Red Cross, receive and distribute supplies for his people, and be the director of the various kinds of work that should be carried on among his people. These committeemen from all over the islands would come to headquarters to receive their instruction—food, seeds, tools, clothing, and learn the methods of work.

These committeemen were received at headquarters by Miss Barton personally as well as by her officers, and careful explanations given to them that the supplies and the help that we were to give were in no way from the government, as many supposed from their memory of the old “Freedmen Bureau” days, but that they were the contributions very largely of poor people from over the country, who themselves had little to give, for the times were hard, but these had heard of the pitiable condition of the storm sufferers, and were willing and glad to divide the little they had to help them into their homes again. The funds we had in hand, they were made to understand, were very small, far less than we could wish, not likely to be much increased, and we should depend upon them to help us to use them to the very best advantage, and we would do our best in the same way to help them.

Among the early contributions were a quantity of garden seeds. More were sent for, particularly of those vegetables that would grow there profitably during the late autumn and winter. It may not be generally known that it was not the custom of these people to plant anything but cotton, corn, sweet potatoes and rice. Hence they knew almost nothing about the raising of other field or garden products.

These committeemen were carefully instructed and directed how to prepare the ground and plant the various kinds of new seeds which were put up in packages for families, which he would take home and in turn instruct his people what to do with them; in this way lettuce, onions, and garden peas were planted, and in a few weeks these plantings began to supply them with a vegetable food to go along with their grits and meat.

From among those who could handle tools, building committees were formed whose duty it was to repair and rebuild the houses, first, of widows and the infirm, and afterward, their own. These committees were furnished with nails, lumber, and the necessary hardware; tools were purchased, marked with the insignia, and loaned until their work should be finished, when they would be returned and another committee would take these same tools and begin work on another plantation.

At the same time a foreman for ditching would be elected from a plantation, who would select his force of men, clean out the wells and ditch the lands of his plantation, working jointly with adjoining plantations, so that the ditching of one piece of land should not flood his neighbor. Spades, shovels, axes, hoes, mattocks, were furnished these men, who, when their work was finished, would return the tools to headquarters for others to take and work with in the same way.

Men acquainted with the building of flood gates, or “trunks,” as they are called, and dams, built and put these in to protect the openings of the ditches from the incoming tides.

Through their committees each man was instructed to split out palings from the fallen timber and fence in a large garden, so that it should be secure from his chickens and pigs. Nails and tools were likewise furnished for this work, frows, crosscut saws, axes, hatchets, hammers, etc.

As the season advanced, in February, the planting time, seedmen of New York and Philadelphia, as well as other cities, hearing of the success of these amateur gardeners through the winter season, sent generously from their stores, and the Congressmen of several districts joined them in directing the seeds in the Agricultural Department apportioned for their distribution to be sent direct to the Red Cross for the Sea Islanders. Again these committeemen, as formerly, were called and instructed in the manner of preparing the ground and planting each kind of seed, with instructions to communicate what he had learned to his neighbors, as before. As these people had never before made gardens, even the leading business men and merchants laughed at the idea of attempting to “make truck gardeners out of these people.” Notwithstanding this, Miss Barton bought nine hundred bushels of Early Rose potatoes. Women were set at work carefully cutting these into one or two eyes each for planting. This provision also removed any possible temptation, with their scant provisions, to use them at once for food.

The seed corn, like everything else in all this vicinity, had been destroyed by the storm. Again Miss Barton sent to the Ohio valley for two carloads of seed corn. This was distributed over the entire storm-swept section, and many of these people at harvest time said that if the storm had brought them nothing but this new variety of seed corn, it would have been a blessing, for their crop was double what it had ever been before.

In order to preserve the quality of the famed “sea island cotton,” which is a special variety, with long, silky fibre, used for making thread, the furnishing of this seed was given to the care of the local cotton merchants, who were directly interested in preserving its high standard and market value.

In the feeding and “rationing” of these people they were as carefully instructed in the principles of economy and care as in other lines of work. Where a fisherman could be found, he was furnished with a boat or net to supply his people with fish to help out with the living, and this was a great aid. The living ration for a family of seven was half a peck of grits a week and a pound of pork, simply as an insurance against starvation for those not having work. Those who were at organized work under a regular foreman received double that amount, i.e., two pecks of grits or meal and two pounds of pork a week for each man.

At all times these people were cautioned about going into debt for any purpose, and so faithfully did they follow these suggestions that when we questioned them in their churches when their corn was ready to use, no more than one in thirty had contracted debts for food or living supplies,—a matter of special interest in view of the fact that it has always been the custom of the country, to go into debt for food supplies until the crop should be ready for market. True, on some of these islands additional help was received from other sources, notably on St. Helena, Ladies and Port Royal, through the influence of some of the resident merchants and other friends—local merchants rebuilding their stores and warehouses gave employment to some, shipping to others, and later, a partial reopening of the phosphate industry brought labor to others.

It will be remembered that these people were constantly receiving lessons in practical economy, and suggestions in improvising and turning to best account what they might have at hand. These instructions, coming from Miss Barton direct made a deep impression on the minds of these people, and they were faithfully followed up by her representatives, who had received their lessons beforehand in practical, common sense economy. I recall an incident. After showing a number of the committeemen through the office and living apartments at headquarters, where they saw desks, working tables, book shelves, washstands, wardrobes, commodes, all neatly covered with manila paper or hung with tasty calico curtains or draperies, with neat and attractive effect—and then when shown the constructions they were amazed to find that nearly every piece of furniture before them was made from various sizes of dry goods boxes (that are usually broken up for kindlings) with shelves inside or on top, as occasion required. One of these committeemen made the practical remark that this half-hour observation and instruction was worth just seventy-five dollars to him, for it showed him how for the present he could save that amount of debt, which he considered necessary to make his house furnishing comfortable for his family.

Careful reports of tools borrowed and returned, of work done each week, as the basis of additional food support, encouraged accuracy, system and responsibility.

I hope it may not prove too tedious if a few average reports of committees are here given from different sections of the field and a sample “labor sheet” to more clearly show some of the kinds of work done, and the character and spirit of the people. The labor sheet is intended to be a record of the tools given out and returned, the number of men at work, the kind of work done—whether ditches, bridges, roads, dams, repairing wrecked houses, or building new ones, digging wells, building chimneys, fencing gardens, splitting boards or shingles, etc., and also the record of the condition as observed by the visitor or inspector of the work.

The following sample is the work of Committeeman Jackson Gillison, of Stuart Point, Port Royal Island, being one of the first who began work:

Labor on Port Royal Island.

BUILDING AND REPAIRING.

DITCHING.