Clara Barton, Professional Angel

Chapter Ten

The customsofficers who scanned the lines of people trooping off of the Caledonia at Glasgow probably failed to notice a woman of forty-eight, plainly attired in black silk and accompanied by her sister. Her passport, too, gave little reason to pay her special attention. It described her without flattery as five feet five inches tall, with brown hair, brown eyes, a prominent nose, large mouth, broad chin, sallow complexion and oval face. Barton was tired and sick after the two-week ocean voyage and in no mood for a grand tour. The doctors had ordered her away from the scenes that fretted her; at best she would refer to the trip as "my sentence."1 To her surprise Clara liked Scotland and England. To be with Sally and wander "among its bloom and heather, its lakes and mountains, its classic old cities, its towns and castles," was to relive the pleasures of her childhood, when together they had cherished Sir Walter Scott's romantic tales. Unfortunately—for this would be the most pleasant phase of her European trip—it was a whirlwind tour of only two weeks. Sally left her at London, and Clara stopped briefly in Paris, then traveled on to Geneva.2 She had plans for a lengthy stay in the Swiss city, where she could find friends, and hopefully health, in the bracing mountain air. Charles Upton and his wife, whom she had known in both Washington and Massachusetts, were now serving as American diplomats in Geneva. Jules Golay had written to his family in Switzerland, and they welcomed the opportunity to repay the hospitality Barton had shown to their son. Thus, by late September she was settled in with Papa Golay, his wife, and daughter Eliza. Amidst the genial company and Geneva's early autumn beauty, Barton believed she might find rest and strength. "Contrasting my physical condition with that of last winter I am well," she told a friend in Washington, "but comparing it with the years ago there is yet room for improvement—but I believe myself to be gaining."3 155 ten The hospitality was warm at the Golays', but the winds that whipped across the lake grew ever colder as the months wore on. Like Mark Twain and other American travelers, Barton thought European homes strong on outwarddisplays of luxury but lacking in practical comfort. Her dark and chilly room faced north, and she found herself commiserating with Byron's "Prisoner of Chillon" as she tried to stay warm and cheerful. "I was so nervous & discouraged that I could scarce get through the day," she wrote one November morning when she had to huddle in bed to ward off the chill. "I cried half the time and could not help it."4 "It will be a great day for Old Europe," Barton would write a little later when her spirits were restored, "when some wise man is born into it, who can construct a chimney."5 Shortly before Christmas—a day she chose to spend sweeping her room in self-pity—she left Geneva for the small Mediterranean island of Corsica , hoping for sunshine and diversion.6 There had been one occurrence during the cool months Clara Barton spent in Geneva that would have a lasting effect upon her and upon American philanthropy , though she did not recognize it at the time. It was a formal visit from a party of soberly dressed businessmen, a courtesy call, the implications of which were not apparent until later; at the time it did not rate even a notation in her journal. The delegation was headed by Dr. Louis Appia, a man of fine classical features and great presence. He and his associates were representatives of the International Convention of Geneva, more commonly called the Red Cross. They were familiar with her charitable activities during the Civil War and, assuming her interest in philanthropic matters to reach beyond her own work, had come to ask why the United States had never acceded to the articles of the Geneva Convention. Astonished, Barton told the men that she had never heard of the organization or the treaty and asked them to give her more information.7 She wasfascinated by the story the gentlemen told her. In 1859 a young Swiss man named Jean Henri Dunant was caught on a business trip near the scene of a terrific battle between French forces under Napoleon III and Austrian troops. Forty thousand men were killed or wounded on this...