CLARA BARTON DIARIES AND JOURNALS Jan.-Feb. 1870 (Includes letter copies, Jan.-Apr. 1870; Mar. and Dec., 1972) Journal and Letterbook A 1870-72 Corsica-Germany No. 9479 Ajaccio Corsica January 1st 1870. About the middle of August 1869 I left New York in company with Sister Sally on the Steamship Caledonia bound to Glasgow. After a couple of days in Glasgow, we found ourselves on the 1st day of September in Edinburg. On the 3rd we visited Stirling and at night returned to Glasgow, and on the 4th I saw Sally again on board the Caledonia bound to New York and bade her adieu with a heavier heart than I was willing to portray and not without many doubts if it were not the last earthly parting with my only living sister. This still remains to be seen. On the evening of the 4th I returned to Edinburgh to meet Sterling Yard who had been a fellow passenger from N.Y. and with whom I had arranged to travel to London. My pocket diary notes that on the 6th we left Edinburg, traveled all day and night and next morning rode about London in a cab with a stupid driver who could only point out the hotels, club houses and churches that on the 8th we found a [scoth?] guide, Robert Semour, whom we clothed and accompanied about town to visit places of interest he was so competent to explain to us. On the 11th changed from my hotel. the Waverly, to lodgings 8 Maddox St. Regent St. near Kensington. Presented letters and made the acquaintance of Miss Fannie Kortright of Kensington, and on the 15th left London at night for Paris and Geneva. 2. I have also noted what I believe every other traveler does, the awful sea, and awful boats, between Dover and Callais, rode all night and at 6 oclock of the 16th found myself in Paris. Mr. Yard was here before me, and I found him at the Santé Thérésa Hotel. After calling on Monroe &c, American Banker, and Hon Mr. Washburn, American Minister, I left Paris at 3 P.M. for Geneva, which point I made at 12 noon of the 17th of Sept 1869. Isaac Golay, the father of Jules lives at 16 Rue de Cendrier and hither I proceeded at once and was made at home with the welcome a daughter might like to receive. It is unnecessary to re-chronicle all the little events of the days as they parred here in my new strange home: the acquaintance that I formed, and strengthened, and prised most outside of the family, were those of the Consul and wife, C. H Upton, with whom I spent 3 weeks. The family of the newly arrived American Minister, Mr. Rublee, and Mrs. Heitz wife of the Swiss Consul General to America, whom I had known at home. The winter climate of Geneva proving too severe, and likely to be detrimental I decided to leave for some warmer and brighter home. At first I decided upon Algiers, but that was far, and later upon the suggestion of Mrs. Upton I concluded to try the island of Corsica, and just three months to a day from the date of my leaving Paris for Geneva, I left Geneva for Corsica via Marseilles, which city I reached at 4 oclock next morning 17th Dec. At 7 oclock of this morning, (17) I was with my trunk moved out to the Steamer "Insulaire" belonging to Valereo &c line, and for the first time found myself afloat on the waters of the Medeteranem, but so far as their kindness to me was concerned, they might as well have been the waters of "Hatteras" or the "Malestroom" The moment the Anchor was drawn, I was compelled to my berth, and compelled there to remain, till the entire voyage of Twenty two hours was completed, and not until the steamer had been fast to the pier a full half hour could I raise my head so much as to catch a glimpse of the light gray stoned buildings, broad streets, and withal pretty town of Ajaccio. In the absence of a stewardess on board the "Insulaire" a little French lad of perhaps fourteen had attended upon wants of the ladies saloon which had not been numerous myself having been the sole occupant, and too sick to make my wants known if indeed I had realized any. I was curious of the fact, that my little masculine femme- de-chambre came repeatedly with great exhultation of tone, to announce to me the progress of the ship as she neared the island - first the mountains, then the snow on their tops which had at first been lost among the clouds, then the green hill-sides and fields and lastly- "Ajaccio"-"Ajaccio." and he fairly jumped with delight. A half hour later, and before I could raise up from my berth, he came to tell me that a gentleman on deck, desired to see me. I bade him tell the gentleman that "he was mistaken in the person. I had no acquaintance in Ajaccio." Pretty soon he returned to say that the gentleman on deck desired "to see the lady from America". "I replied that "I didn't know the gentleman on deck, and didn't want to, and he might tell him so." By this time between alternately raising up and lying down, I was attempting my toilette, which in fact I had not found time the day previous to unmake very thoroughly, and while pursuing this rather uncomfortable occupation, a rap came at my door, accompanied by a slightly accented English, "May I come in?" This might not have proved an "open sesame" to the dressing room door of a more prudish, or perhaps proper lady than myself, but under the circumstances it did to mine, and I replied not "oui," "entre" but a genuine English, "Yes" Come in. - when there entered a bright-active looking young man who presented me his business card "G. Dallman, proprietor of the Hotel et pension Swiss, Ajaccio Corse" which establishment he had opened for the "benefit" of English and Americans visiting the Island, and of course desired me to go and be benefitted. I replied that it was not my intention to remain in hotel, but to secure appartments, however I would go home with him for the present, as I had previously read in "Bradshaw" that the town boasted but a single old carriage, and it - having been suggested by my friends at Geneva that this was probably the one used to fetch the doctor at the birth of Napoleon. My veneration for things both ancient and military forbade my calling it upon so trivial an occasion, and grasping my few effects with one hand, and the hand rail, and anything else I could reach for support I staggered and steadied myself up and off the boat and took in as best I might with "eyes weary and dim" the outting - certain - and my general impressions of the quaint but historic little town of Ajaccio. I saw at a glance that I had no need to provide myself with boot lacings before leaving Switzerland and that in some one of all these five to seven storied well-built gray stone warehouses, and magazines, I might possibly have provided myself with ink and paper, and gloves, and stockings if my present stock should unfortunately have proved insufficient. The streets were broad and clean, sidewalks well laid generally of much better width and character than Geneva and to add to their cheerful comfortable appearance were lined from end to end of the town with thrifty orange and lemon trees in full fruit - bright yellow, and within a month of the time of gathering. The day was sunny and warm, and the streets well filled with men, women, children, little horses, mules, and donkeys. All but the men appeared to do, or carry something, as they walked or ran. A portion of the children tossed gay and party colored India rubber balls of sizes varying from that of an orange, to their own heads. Others, and apparently just as happy a portion carried little bundles of dry brush to sell for kindlings - the majority of the women appeared to be followers of Rebecca, and went to the well for water bearing on their heads I think the identical manner of urn or [clay] pitcher which we find her always represented with - I found myself instinctively scanning over their polished sides of green brown, yellow and red for the initial R - but a moments reflection convinced me of the extreem probability that in the changes of countries, and the crash of worlds, that this identical urn of Rebecca's was no longer in condition for service if not entirely broken, and indeed if neither of mischances had overtaken it - it would most probably at that moment in service at the Economical Council at Rome. With this conclusion I gave up this speculative search and turned my attention to the animals quadruped - all of which appeared similarly caparisoned and serving the same purposes - all wore a huge saddle of wood slats extending two thirds around the entire body - strongly [ ] to the tail, and on this was mounted and fastened and transported every conceivable article of merchandise of family convenience that ever entered into the heart of civilized or savage man to desire. Wood, meat, alive and slaughtered, dressed and undressed, fish fowls and creeping things - vegetables for market, clothing old and new, clothes to and from the wash, wet and dry, green boughs, barrels, casks for wine, jugs of groceries, children too small to walk, men too old, women who had dispersed of their merchandise and were returning home, contented sweet and brave, always astride - and a thousand panniers, of sheep and goat hide with the hair tanned on, as large as a half barrel balanced on either side stuffed and crammed with the Lord Knows what, and most of these animals driven by women, dressed in dark stuff, generally without stockings, but always with a large handkerchief tied covering over the head. Few of the animals had bridles - the donkeys not even a halter, the tail always supplying that necessity to the driver, - and all as innocent from their birth of the ravages of curry comb and brush as they were of the use of the King's English - All this and much more my eyes made note of as I passed up the town through the Cours Napoleon to the "Hotel Suisse" - a lone building standing upon an eminence just above the town fronting the east, and the bay, a long steep walk led up to it - often interrupted with stone stairs and at last you ascended one or the other of two short steep flights dividing and leading to right and left up to the broad terrace in front of the entrance, large pots of orange trees in full fruit stood beside the door, while similar pots of cactus ranged symetricly along the granite wall which fronted the walk - before entering my escort showed me about his grounds, consisting of aereal views of well braced steep hillside abundantly watered, little brooks pouring from the wall of each terrace into cisterns arranged for its reception, abundance of grape vines - garden vegetables, some just set, others, apparently of a months growth - while the tomato plants of last season had never ceased their production. At the foot of the terraces and in range with the house, was a large grove of oranges, the trees bending beneath their burden - a gardener was at work among them, apparently planting early vegetables. This was all very pleasant to the eye, and senses, after the cold the [ ] - and the desolation of Geneva - and albeit too weak to walk with any degree of steadiness I enjoyed it - and thanked the good natured proprietor audably I trust for his kind invitation to walk there and gather fruit as often as I chose. On entering the house I was shown up one flight of steps into a small lightly furnished - but carpeted chamber all of which seemed perfectly new and clean, indeed everything in and about the house had an air of extreem neatness which was most refreshing and gratifying. I had a single bed, a bureau, some pins on a door to supply the place of wardrobe, and a little 7 x 9 hole in the wall for a fireplace, with a fire board neatly set as if it were never intended to be used - How does my room front" I asked of the landlord as I walked to, and looked out of my one window - "East" - s- o-u-th east ma'm - he replied with a slight hesitation in the pronunciation of that auxilliary point of compass - "When do I get the sun?" "All the morning" madam " - "till twelve oclock at least I suppose." "I would have preferred a room due south" I said - "but as I am not to remain long this will do-" "Would I have a cup of tea" "Yes and a bit of bread & butter" - they came neatly and directly, and although I could not boast much of an appetite, since I had eaten only a bit of bread and some grapes after leaving Geneva I did my best - to eat - against time, and succeeded tolerably well. It was probably well that I did - as that proved to be the last possible moment on which I could have done so for the three succeeding days - during all this time there came not only an entire suspension of all desire for food, but all ability to accomplish any thing except - with mighty will to stand on my feet and walk about. - I had few thoughts and no desires - and realized little excepting that I was cold and tired - My seasickness had been all I could endure I went to table d'hote at five but ate nothing and very soon retired. but the moment I came in contact with my sheets I experienced the same sensation as if suddenly dipped into the bay, or one of those stone cisterns of running water in the garden The sheets were linen, not ironed after washing, and if even thoroughly dried had gathered dampness again till they were little better than those I had seen coming out of the creek that afternoon. Sudden pain shot along every nerve & continued in every joint, my teeth clenched, and I had just presence of mind enough to realize that I was about going into a chill. My blood seemed perfectly still - with a desperate effort I sprang from my icy envelope, and seizing the white soft wool blanket which had been lain as extra on the top of the bed, I commenced as rigorous a friction as my poor strength and great exhaustion would permit, and here I continued to rub and exercise until my strength was too far exhausted, when I wrapped myself in the blanket - put all the woolen around me I could get, my own cloaks and shawl and retired a second time. Of course I could not get warm, but I had escaped the cramps - and perhaps a congestive chill, and could wait for daylight and my morning sunshine with comparative patience. - the morning came, and so did the sunshine but not to me. For the first time in my life I had to learn that the sun did not rise in the East. Away in one corner beyond a mountain it struggled up and for the space of two minutes - not longer a faint little ray struck across the panes of glass & the sash and rested on perhaps a half inch of the deep frame of the window, not a ray into the chamber - and while I watched it, this suddenly disappeared to return no more that day - henceforth my "southeast" window was dull leaden and cold. Faintly as the sun, I struggled up - dressed - I really at this moment cannot conceive how I did it, but I did. As there was no place of heat about the house I started for a walk in the sunshine. It was Sunday - down the long lane leading to the "[Circus?] Napoleon" and out to the North, if my window was East, but my confidence in the reliability of points of compass was terribly shaken; along the shore of the sea, which was certainly on my right hand; on that point I could not be mistaken. I still know my right hand from my left. [hand]. and I still carried each on its natural and legitimate side. That, I could demonstrate to my entire satisfaction because, my right hand has a scar on the back, and my left sleeve had a hole in the elbow - and the two were on different sides as they always had been. The road which was good, as all the roads I had seen about the towm, led along the shore of the bay, frequently protected from the wash of the breakers by piles of rock and wound around a fortification, which mountings swept across the entire curve of the bay as it enters the town to a similar fort in earthwork at the opposite end. here was a good house with fine yard and flowers, to which a placarded board forbade your entrance without permission from the Commandat. My tour of inspection being merely personal, by no means official in its character, I did not attempt an "entre", but followed on and on around the shore until at length I saw that by crossing a neck of wild land, covered with the native "machie" or hardy thick set brush I should strike a broad white road on the left, which I at once concluded must be the public or National road leading over the mountains to Bastia, and so on around the island. I still believe I was correct in my conjecture although I have never made any inquiry, and never travelled it - but I did follow my suggestion, and crossed the neck of wild land and wild it was. and the bush was hardy - it was about as high as my head, very thick set and fine, but not briery - and often the ground beneath my feet - I felt - to be quite wet. I could not often see it. It occurred to me while crossing that this island like Ireland was Catholic and I hoped St. Patrick had been as beneficient here as there, and abolished the snakes and toads - if any there were. they kept out of my way, and if I did not trouble them. then "nobody was troubled". One thing about the bushes, as well as the bushes themselves struck me forcibly, their peculiar sweetness of aroma it was a kind of mixture of honeysuckle - southernwood and spruce but sweeter than either - it occurred to me then that I had somewhere read long ago that Napoleon in alluding to Corsica while homesick and heartsick wasting on St. Helena - said - that he "should know Corsica by the smell with his eyes shut" At Poor Bona poor Bona it was the sweetest of all your little islands and it had no fetters - here your boyish feet ran free and here on these very hilltops the shouts rang out that afterward tottered thrones and shook the civilized earth to its center. I passed the tangled "machie", climbed a wall, and gained the high road which I followed back to town, but on my way I encountered my first herd of goats, how many hundred I dont know - but the brush was filled with them, of all sizes from a wee little puppy to a yearling stately and grave - with majestic beards. They paid very little attention to me as I stopped to admire and wonder except to look up with very fine eyes and keep on browsing as if they both understood and liked it -- Of course on my long walk I had often sat down to rest and when I got back to my hotel it was past 4 oclock in the afternoon. I was tired but not worn, though I had walked so much, and while tolerably comfortable out of doors, the moment I entered the house an intolerable degree of chill penetrated me. I had on my cloak and [capaucin] but could spare neither after entering my chamber, and as I could eat nothing. There was no recourse but to go to bed, and indeed it was all I was fit to do. So I again crept into my blankets and this time succeeded in sleeping some, not well by any means - and after midnight waited for morning but had learned better than to wait for sunshine to greet me - I began well to conclude that Europe had no sunshine for me - Next morning I rose as before but with less of strength, but there was no sunshine for any one. A thick leaden sky, a heavy mist, and so dark I could scarce see to dress. I rang for a fire, very doubtful however of my chimney after the estimation I had formed of ability of European masons to construct a chimney which was not as much inclined to draw one way as the other - still the trial must be made and it was, with a champyn basket of old loose water soaked plank about three feet in length - my fireplace being less than two feet - it is needless to say that there was plenty of smoke, or to add that most of it came into the room - if any succeeded in getting up chimney it was by accident - or rather by and through the perversity of inanimate things - as the natural current was entirely downward - the idea of a fire, and the fire itself must be abandoned. And after some little difficulty I succeeded in extinguishing it My room cleared of smoke I sat down to enjoy the prospect. It had been Sunday so I could not inquire in reference to rooms out of the hotel - but about noon I received a call from Mrs. Cleeve, the wife of the English Minister a pleasant-faced lady who seemed very sympathetic upon inquiring of her in reference to rooms or lodgings she gave it as her opinion that no such thing could be found in the town, that the hotels were designed for the accommodation of strangers, and that the inhabitants did not take lodgers. This was a damper. What was I to do: I could not remain as I was. I did not wish to live as expensively as I must in a hotel even if I could be comfortable, and I did not desire a hotel life. I asked if there were no rooms in the hotel that could be had without board, as I had learned that many of the guests took only table d'hote. She replied yes, a south room adjoining her could be had, indeed it was hers, and I could provide myself entirely if I chose. I asked what terms she thought - she replied probably the same as if I took full board also, 8 francs per day, did not think any difference would be made. I made no response to this but asked when the next boat would leave for Nice? One of the guests had sent me Miss Campbells Book upon Corsica, which represented a great deal of beauty and accommodation that I had not commenced to find Miss Campbell is a Scotch lady. probably of the Archibald Campbells of Scotland. who has chosen to adopt the interests of Corsica. and holds them very closely. It is doubtless mainly through her recommendations during the last three or four years that the island has gained a notoriety for healthfulness- and has attracted so many English travellers (sic) to its borders- I found that most of the finest residences in the village were rented to English families for the winter- In my [?eschemity] I at first thought I would go and introduce myself to Miss Campbell. and ask her if it were not possible to find an appartment (sic) inside a hotel-but my heart failed me when I thought how probable it was that it would be the next thing point of stateliness to calling on Queen Victoria. and with four or five days of failing I didnt feel equal to the attempt- This was Monday. and again I went to walk on the other side of town Cours du Grandvall- Here were some fine villas. and pretty cottages. all rented by the season-I learned from a Corsican who spoke to me as I stood looking at them- he was very kind. insisted on walking with and inquiring for me. and actually walk home with me but I dismissed him at the gate- It was getting still damper and colder all the time. Another attempt at a fire-no use. And again between my blankets to get warm if I could. I thought I ought to be strong. The next morning, Tuesday 21st Dec-the "maurais temps" had settled down into a decided rain storm, and pelted all day. About 10 o'clock I found courage to get up and dress. and for the first time went down to the dining room, and took a lunch of bread and butter. and at evening went to dinner. of the guests were Mr. & Mrs. Cleeve. Mayer and Mrs. Ramrey of the Royal Horse guards, England. Mr. Arnold of the London Telegraph whose wife is a grand niece of Old Dr. Channing- and daughter of Rev. Mr. Channing of the Unitarian Society in Washington during. his family had resided in England some ten years. so I could not regard Mrs Arnold as a real American, especially as she called herself an English woman- but she was truly Northern and loyal and outspoken- was rather young and dressy wore quite an abundance of jewellry (sic)-but that is a matter of taste. Sketches from nature-se- Rev. Mr. Mood and wife of England. very quiet and pleasant and a Miss Blamer. also English, with two [parrquets] and a [renant] completed the guests at table. Oh; no I forgot. the [parrots] and [renant] didnt come to table d'hote. I also forgot to mention two Germans who did come. and sat directly opposite me at the foot of the table and jabbered German so [incerrenly] that I could catch only now and then a word of the general communication which was in English- It being the lunch custom for the person who arrives last to make the first call, and the English here having adopted it. I saw that in order to keep from making myself singular I must call on the guests of the house and Wednesday morning, still raining as hard as it could pour I devoted to this purpose and commenced with Mrs. Cleeve, who was bustling about her room, done up in shawls - with a cold, the parson writing his sermon - I still spoke of appartments but Mrs. Cleeve my attempt at looking for any as it was not likely that one could be found. I next called upon the Woods and after a long and pleasant conversation they learned that I wanted to find rooms outside the hotel and informed me that there were plenty to be had and very reasonable - and volunteered to go with me as soon as it slackened raining a little and look for some. About this time it grew more clear and we ventured out, running the showers, and found any number of chambers from 20 to 40 francs a month - with privilege of kitchen and service included. This was a new era, a first bright feature in my life in Corsica - I should have wondered very much at the representation which had been given me, and came so near driving me back on to the continent only that I had seen all along that Mrs. C. was greatly in the interest of the Hotel and its proprietor taking fully a mother's solicitude in the welfare of the establishment. - This was certainly very kind, and I subsequently learned that the good minister and his wife had lent considerable sums of money in advance to the proprietor, and would feel badly if the establishment came to an end - Ah me! - Well I decided upon nothing that day excepting to look again next - day. The rain drove us home, and I spent the evening in the public sitting room which now had a good coal fire - it was my first comfortable moment. The guests were all present. Mrs. Arnold rather led the conversation, and often it turned upon America, she asked me if I "was in the hospitals any during the war." I replied "not much in hospitals" - she "said "a great many women were and did a great deal of good "for the soldiers, that her father was a member of the Sanitary "Commission and accomplished a wonderful amount - "of good, that his labors were most incessant, that he used to - "write home such long, detailed and interesting accounts of what - "he was able to do, that his rooms were directly opposite the Sanitary "Commission rooms and he used to go there every day and "write letters for the Commission, and the soldiers - he did a "world of good." I was interested. - Next day, Mrs. Wood not being able to go out, I went with Mr. Wood alone, to search for rooms - found one on the Cours du Grandval, due South, which I liked, but the people were Italiens, could not speak a word of French and I was not certain how I could get on with them - and in the course of the conversation, a French woman who interpreted for them raised the price from 30 to 40 francs a month. This showed the necessity of making a firm bargain and we left it unsettled and returned to Cours Napoleon to find Monsieur Petroke who acted as house broker. - and who took us to the "second story of a house on Cours Napoleon occupied Mr. & Mrs. Paradis. Corsicans - the house had a western exposure and fronted an enormous ledge of rock which was being blasted out. I found two rooms one very large, one smaller, and a very small active woman who spoke french. and was exceedingly anxious that I should become the occupant of her rooms at 35 francs a month - I did not like the front. It was not light enough with only one window in a room, and had no view, but they assured me that the sun shown directly into the room at one oclock, that all the afternoon they were warm and sunny. As it rained then, I could not - see for myself - I thought I did not want them but liked the face of the lady who would be my landlady, and after refusing two or three times, and my refusal being refused, I gave way and decided to take them for a month, and remove that (Saturday) evening. returned to the hotel, took my last [bath] d'hote bade good bye to the guests and after dark left - with two porters who had my trunk between them. With some difficulty found my room and entered, Mr. & Madame P. were waiting to receive me. My large room looked larger and more dismal than ever. Reckoning by its size it would require a long description but when it is remembered that it was mostly empty space, the labor will be materially shortened. It would be a greater labor to recount what it had not, than what it had, I found by actual measurement that it was twenty four feet in length - and seventeen in width, door at one end, window at the other. midway on the right - upon entering was a little square hole in the wall two feet each way, called a fireplace - it had no andirons, and no tongs, but a shovel & pair of bellows - a small table on either side and a round stand in front - marble gray and no cover - in an opposite corner a kind of two story long stand which seems an indispensible article of parlor furniture in Corsica, and is only used to contain the decorations of artificial flowers which all genteel families must have, generally under vases. I have often seen large, costly and cumbersome vases of artificial flowers in a room which had not a comfortable chair or footstool or a vestage of carpet or hearth rug - a very good crimson cushioned lounge faced the fireplace on the opposite side - two green covered arm chairs, and for [flag] rest straight-back common chairs completed the furniture, unless I might mention two huge pots of green bushes representing rose trees filled with pink paper roses, which filled two corners of the room nearest the door, a rug in front of the lounge & a straight-narrow strip of cotton carpet ran partly across the center of the room. The floor was dark red tile, waxed till it was nearly black at night, the walls painted imitation of frescoe, quite dark. There was no wood about the room excepting the doors, and windows, which latter in fact are in this country mainly wood, each window consisting of six, not large panes of glass, and an immense sash which opens in the center, and swings like a double door, with inside shutters of solid board, always painted some heavy color. My curtains were dark heavy damask There was not a white, nor light article in the room and one little window - a little obscure fireplace, and one tallow candle. The walls are never lathed but are plastered directly upon the masonry, with everything stone: above, below and around, one can imagine the temperatures of a room which has had no fire in all winter: There was the chill of a tomb as I entered on that rainy night; as my host and hostess left me I sat down to take a quiet survey of things about me, but very soon the chill of the half frozen bricks beneath me was creeping into my body. my feet and limbs were like ice The little fire which had been of brush wood was fast dying out, and the grim shadows each moment growing deeper and darker. There was only left me to get my trunk open, and find my bed. I rose to go to my trunk the other side of the room, with that immense space of brick pavement between us, with a kind of indefinable feeling that it was out of the house, over on the other side of the street, and in spite of all the reason I could muster I felt that I ought to put on our shoes, and take an umbrella to reach it but getting the better of these impressions I set out on my pilgrimage but the first fatal to a successful journey for no sooner had my boot-heel come in contact with the slippery waxed & polished tile, than it shot from under me like a skate from the luckless novice who makes his first attempt on the glare of the mill pond. and like him I measured my length not upon the ice, but something quite as cold, and far more solid and unyielding. Almost any other person would have found themselves with at least one broken bone, but my marvelously good joints which have served and saved me so often through such perils, were once more true to me, and as my custom is, I was no sooner down than up and standing upon my feet again, I scarce knew how, & after balancing a moment to get "the hang of the floor" I set out again, this time with greater caution than before, and succeeded in reaching my point of destination in safety. My toilet was quickly made or, rather unmade, and I entered my second chamber with the same cautious tread I had found so necessary to my personal safety. - it contained a bed bureau and washstand but when the feet left the stockings there were the bare bricks to meet them, and the bed which was clean, was thinly clad, and dressed in the same everlasting heavy linen sheets. The pure flax, glossy and glassy as the floor. There was no alternative and I was compelled to enter them. If I had a chill that night I cannot tell. I was weak and cold and sleepless, but not life enough to get up a fever after it, and I rose as I retired, cold, stiff and strengthless, reaching from my bed for my stockings and boots as I used to from my cot on the old army days, when my floor was good mother earth, and the winter rains were soaking through her sods to lighten the deep stains of blood the warring summer had brought them, indeed they could only lighten they can never be effaced. But then I was strong, strong of body and soul, and it mattered not how cold or hot the place I set my foot. I never knew if it were either. But these, are other days, and the strength has gone out, and I have little with which to meet the ills that come, and the hope has gone with it, and purpose has departed, and there is only to wait, wait, the end -- But, to return - My stiffened limbs were clothed, my little landlady came and made me a smoke, I could not call it a fire, for it was "mauvais temps" and then no Continental or departmental chimney is supposed, if indeed [alle?] to do duty. It will be a great day for Old Europe when some wise man is born unto it, who can construct a chimney. - The great drops of rain, and before night big balls of hail came tumbling down into my fireplace, although there were four stories length of chimney above me. Thus commenced my life among the people of Corsica. It would be useless to chronicle all the doings day by day, one so like another, with so many shadows and few lights. Suffice it to say that I provided myself as well as I could with the few conveniences necessary. Madame Paradis was assiduously kind, honest, and exact, quick of perception, and possessed a large share of intelligence, and a better education than was common among the Corsicans. By degrees I learned tht she had six children, all in school excepting the "petite" of eighteen months who was not long in making himself known & not likely to let you forget him. His mother said he was "mechant" and I could not dispute her, his continual scolding cries, and tearing and fretting ring in my ears yet. many days I was driven out of the house by them, utterly unable to endure them longer without a rest. As the Corsicans have no idea of ventilation - and never a door or window was opened for that purpose, the entire house was ventilated through my rooms: Little by little I learned to walk on my slippery floor, although I sometimes caught a fall. I did my best to make my rooms habitable and when it did not rain remained out of doors as much as possible often passing entire days out on the rocks by the shore of the sea, taking my writing materials with me and occupying the day as best I could. And thus and these commenced the year 1870. - Here again I was at fault with my points of compass. The sun when it shone at all, stole a little side long glance in to one corner of my chamber, at three o clock, and at 3 1/2 three went behind a tall house on the opposite side of the street to return no more that day. - it was seldom light enough for me to see to write in front of my fire, and always to cold to sit near my window. My best time was at might, with the help of my petroleum lamp which I had provided myself with, but this though heavily shaded told fearfully upon my eyes. I attempted to study French - and believed I could master the grammar I had in hand in a month, & full of hope, I commenced a systematic course of study. And under all my difficulties I was so happy with the belief that I could at length accomplish something for myself & so absorbed that for a few days I almost forgot my discomforts, five days of this I had, when my poor eyes refused another hours duty, grew red & inflamed and for weeks I could not read a page, and often a letter was nearly a week in getting completely read. I could only write with my eyes closed, which I often did. Sometimes the light of the sun affected them, and I shaded them, and remained in my rooms and shivered, and thought this was all I could do. My greatest relief was sleep, and I only regretted that I could not get twelve hours in the place of the six which was my maximum number for any night. Naturally I informed Madame that I must look for some warmer appartment at the end of the month. She had learned to like me, and was grieved and hurt at my determnatn and for all her goodness of heart I regretted to leave her. But at my request she found another occupant for her rooms, who would take possession at the commencement of February, while I would look for something better if possible. I had become better acquainted with the proprietor of the Hotel Suisse and engaged a room, South there; but waiting to complete my month at Madame Paradis - it became occupied and could not well be vacated, and when the final days arrived for me to change, I was reminded of the Prisoner of Chillon - I would fain have remained - and after all looked for other rooms with regret -- so much for habit. There seemed to be nothing at the Hotel for me, but North east rooms with smoky chimneys, in the meantime the Woods had left and gone to housekeeping on the "Cours Granville" - it seemed to me that they might have found some chamber near their appartment if they had been disposed, but I had come to the place alone, unintroduced, an American, and not a Rebel, and how were these English people to run the risk of me? - They had frequent excursions, but I was never invited to join - Miss Blamer with the servant & panquetts had taken a cottage by the sea - at 200 francs per month rent - these were far beyond me - And I could only keep my quiet path alone and think. But my rooms were to be changed, and Madame Paradis recommended a chamber, of one of her friends, near by Madam Alexander, Confection. A widow of a Polish exile. I was disheartened, thought it did not matter much, and at Madam's recommendation enjoyed a single chamber at 25 francs a month. All this time I had never met Miss Campbell, and I was frequently asked by the English if I had left my card with the "Prefect" - who were always astonished that I had not done so. The impression was, that the Prefect would give an entertainment for the English, and it was evident that I was supposed to be in iminent danger of being found not having on the wedding garment. I thought perhaps it might be well to have myself made known to some person in authority on the island, being so entirely alone, and rather at a discount - as I perceived myself to be - and accordingly wrote to Hon. Mr. Washburn at Paris Mr Rublee at Berne & Mr Upton at Geneva for letters of introduction to Monsieur Gerry the Prefect of the Dept of Corsica. Their replies all reached me at once, the last day of January copies of which I have placed with other copies of letters at the end of this volume. I had also received letters from Mrs. Hitz informing me that Mr Hitz had arrived in Switzerland and that it was their intention to visit me at Corsica. On the 28th of January, I once more packed my trunk and saw it raised upon the shoulders of a square built peasant woman who marched down the stairs with it and deposited the same in my new appartments in the fourth story of Madame Alexander 27. Cours Napoleon - for which service it was prefered that I pay six francs. considering that forty cents would take a trunk twice its size all over any city in America, and leave it where you pleased with no inspection of your own, beside hunting it up among tons of other luggage at railway stations in the night. I thought rather steep and compromised at four francs - which I could not consider less than a dollar I followed my trunk and found a chamber less imposing but to all appearance more cozy than that I had left. a large fireplace a monstrous bed, writing table, wardrobe comode, two rugs - the inevitable two storied stand for the vases of artificial flowers, and literally covered with paltry ornaments all of which I would have exchanged for an easy chair, a sofa or lounge of which I had neither, but I had, ornamenting the preserved walls any number of bleeding hearts and flaming bosoms, and other figures all typical of pain, sorrow & death. some long pendant wax candles, supposed to be in readiness for lighting at my funeral. completed the decorations. - I was welcomed to my appartment by Madame, and a numerous host of curious attendants, who after various professions & gesticulations left me to my fate. - As usual the stone walls and floor were far too chill for my poor feeble body to withstand, and I could only escape by mounting that ponderous double bed, as high as it was wide, and as hard as both. Weary and heart-sick I slept, and dreamed away the night & next day at noon, on descending to Madam's store I was informed that I had been searched for having friends arrived by the boat. - I guessed at once that it must be Mr & Mrs Hitz and made my way to the Hotel Suiss. I was correct, but they had gone in search of me, retracing my steps I proceeded to the Cours Granville, and after long tracing & retracing of steps, we met face to face in front of the Napoleon statue "Place Napoleon". I need not say that I was glad to see them. Mr. Hitz brought me a host of letters & papers both from America & Geneva - and that day there was very much talking to be done - and at evening I dined with them at Hotel Suiss. The succeeding day was fine and again we walked. I could not inhabit my own appartment much having no fire, my highly recommended landlady promising each day to send me up a "charge" of wood, and in her carelessness always neglecting it. I had not learned then how criminally inattentive and careless she would prove - Having walked the town and its environs nearly over, I became anxious that we make our respects to the "Prefect." Accordingly my letters & card & Mr. & Mrs. Hitz cards were all made in a package and sent by the Proprietor of the Hotel Suiss with the request that the Prefect indicate some hour which would be convenient for him to receive a call from us -. The message returned was, anytime after 2 P.M. accordingly about 2 1/2 we set out from my room, and passing up through the orange shaded walk which lead to the really beautiful mansion, we were ushered into the Parlor of the Prefect of Corsica, a word of their filling up may not be uninteresting in the future. According to the Corsican, and it may be the French style, the foot of the main stairway was secured by a strong iron gilded gate which being swung for us, we ascended a very broad staircase ornamented on either side by beautiful pots of flowers, not artificial, and magnificently carpeted with rich Turkish carpetting. We proceeded through several galleries and halls all covered with the same rich carpets, and by way of an open piazza across the side of a splendid court - filled with lovely flowers, and a pretty fountain in full play, and from this entered one of a series of drawing rooms, in one of which we were seated. In the room neither wall or wood work was exposed to view - all being covered with richly figured chintz, every article of furniture was entirely covered with the same, in the place of doors hung heavy folds of double chintz from the ceiling to the floor: the curtains were the same, in the whole room, only this one material met the eye, excepting always the Carpet. - We had sat but a moment on one of the most luxurious of sofas, when a small sprightly gentleman, astonishingly resembling Judge Lawrence M.C. of Ohio entered followed by a pretty young lady who he introduced as his daughter Mary. The Prefect addressed himself to Mr. & Mrs. Hitz - while the daughter came over and sat by me - She was about the size of Mamie Barton, and not altogether unlike her. Although by no means as pretty - and to my great joy, she addressed me in good, well accented English. The Prefect spoke only French, but had an English Governess for his children, who had been with them Nine years, he had no wife, had one daughter in France, and a son here younger than Mary - After making our call of the proper length we rose to go supposing that was the end, but we were led through the remaining drawing rooms, the magnificent dining room, and saloons, where hung splendid life size portraits of the Emperor & Empress of The French, that of Eugenia being the same I had seen in the public galleries and one of the handsomest pictures I have ever beheld, and from this out into the garden - which I can not justly describe - to say that it was beautiful is nothing. Magnificent Magnolias shaded the [heat] of the walks. While every variety of tropical tree shrub & flower I remember to have met in elegant green houses here grew in native beauty - the orange lemon, and most abundant of all, the cunning little mandarin filled every spare nook & corner, from this we were conducted to a yard to see a Moufflon, a wild sheep, which greeted us with its pretty agate eyes, and nimble foot, and from here we were passed on and up a ladder, to the top of the out buildings on to a kind of terrasse for a lovely view of the city, and the sea - on descending we discerned that the Moufflon taking advantage of a some "loup" - left unfastened had opened his gate and made his way into the garden, where in the exuberance of his delight he was leaping from bank to bank and often six feet in the air, raising on his hind feet occasionally to [?se] off the [to?ese?y] tender top of some geraneum or other exotic in full bud or bloom, waiting till the gardener & a half dozen servants in pursuit of him had almost laid a hand on his neck to spring from under and bound to a corner so distant he was scarcely discernable among the rich green and golden of the orange & lemon. He treated the Prefect with the same levity as the gardener, and would no more be captured by a dignitary than a peasant and reveling in his freedom and gloring in his democracies, we left him playing havoc among the tropicals. Still attended by the Prefect and his daughter we were again passed on through the pretty court: down the broad stair way, and out upon the steps where - a splendid carriage and span of blocks with a driver in livery awaited us, and in spite of our remonstrances we were placed in the carriage and the servant ordered to take us to ride on the Cours Granville to the Greek Chapel, &c, where we pleased, leaving us at home, which was all accomplished, and in addition to this we were invited to dinner on Wednesday - It was near night when we reached our hotel and all Corsica had taken its hats off to us - it was no longer a matter of inquiry if I had "left my card with the Prefect. But to show how news travels ahead as well as at home, I might mention that from the moment I set on the island I had never mentioned the least connection I ever had with the war. Neither had my friends, no word of it had ever been breathed only such as was contained in the letters delivered to the Prefect that day at 11 o clock, and at dinner at 6 PM I was escorted with all flattering epithets and treated with all "the honors of War." Colonel Ramsey showing me up to his friends, and [exp??ating] upon my extreme modesty which had kept them in ignorance of me until that day. - The succeeding days were spent in looking up reminiscences of the Bonaparts, we visited the old family mansion (which stands in the most thickly inhabited part of the "Ville", has been purchased by Emperor Napoleon III and by him put into excellent repair and kept for the inspection of visitors by an old Italian woman who I believe has been in some way connected with the service of the family for years. The house is large and it would not be correct to say originally fine, for it is fine now, and perhaps was never in more perfect repair than at the present moment. The first story would be called a half basement - and contains the kitchens & cellars. The next ) if my memory serves me ( for I have yet another inspection to make of it if my strength admits) was the living appartment of the family - here was the spacious parlor with its small tile floor waxed like a mirror, its curiously inlaid furniture tables sofas & chairs all splendid in their time and curiously pretty now, hood mirrors, here was the room (a bed on) in which Napoleon was born, the curious little work table of "Madame Mere" at its head pictures of herself and family old time & small - farther on the dancing hall with a wooden spring floor hung out candle holders, each with a small twelve inch mirror behind as a reflection entirely surrounding the hall. The chamber of Napoleon which was meant to be decorated to suit his childish taste with all manner of warlike implements, until at last his final craving was gratified with the presence of an actual cannon, from there out onto a little stone court where the sun really seemed to have his natural abiding place, so direct were his scalding rays sent down upon it and the fruit & flowers were ripening and blooming like September & June. - & The next stage was the sleeping appartments of the young ladies - less elaborate but still fine - here the three queens frolicked away their girlhood days, little dreaming of the strange & brilliant future awaiting them each & all - Above this the appartments for the domestiques, and over all this a garret liberally crammed with old military accoutrements, swords, buckles & helmets, and from this out upon a terrace which over looks the entire city. No person resides in the mansion, a house has been removed from the opposite side of the street to give room for a view of the front of the mansion, and and a small house fronting into this opening is occupied by the woman who keeps the key and shows up the Bonapart mansion to strangers. I had away with me a couple of the original tile from the floors removed in the repairs. They are small, light-colored, & six sided - From this we found our way to the large building near the sea which is the Tomb of the "Madame Mere," Lucian, and Cardinal Fesch the uncle of Napoleon. This building I cannot correctly describe here as I was too worn, tired, and sick at the time to "take it in" properly. I remember that we descended a after passing an iron gateway a long fight of white marble stairs into a small appartment under ground with a marble tablet a column in the center over which hung a lamp which looms without ceasing, throwing its yellow light upon a jet black marble tablet set horizontally in the wall at a few feet distance on which is cut in letters of gold "Letitia Ramoline Mother of Kings" - to the right of this - filling another corner, for the chamber is sextagonal is a similar letter for Cardinal Fesch - and still, to the right - as you face them - another of Lucian -. But where we all cried is the father? - - thus far no picture, no relic no tomb had we seen - and in fault of good historical knowledge we wondered what had mattered him? On ascending, we passed through the long and many picture galleries, wonderfully full and fine for a place like Corsica, but here also no father of Napoleon - "Madame Mere" at every turn upon expressions of our surprise, and inquiry if his portrait were no where to be found, we were directed to the Municipal Chambers, upon reaching them we were shown by the Mayor in person into some fine business appartments the walls of which were magnificently adorned with excellent portraits of the Bonapart family. The same beautiful Eugenia the Emperor, Madame Mere again & again - but who is this splendid looking man in military costume, or rather civil-military, red breeches & tights, with that beautiful cast of features, that expressive brow and above all the lively eye Could this be he? This nature's prince! - true - this was Charles de Bonapart, the young warrior friend of Paoli and the father of Napoleon - Back in the library we found a history which told us what we had probably read before and forgotten, that he left Corsica at the age of 39 only to seek medical aid at Montpelier France, where his malady overpowered him and he died suddenly, and Napoleon refused to have his body taken out of French soil to be returned to Corsica and he rests there apart from all his family. Of Charles-de-Bonipart I must some day say much more. Visiting the library, Mrs. Heitz found history of the Bonaparts and took them out - and read to us much that was instructive, here we learned how Charles Bonapart struggled his life time to gain possession of two estates which were his by heirship, and which having fallen into the hands of the Jesuits he could not receive, one was on the sea shore near Cour Granville, and the other was Milleli a mile or two to the S.E. of the town. He contstantly petitioned the French Government to restore his property to him, and it was as often promised, but always failed through the interposition of the interested parties in Corsica He started to Paris to present his claims After reaching Montpelier he addressed a final appeal to the French, and this time it was really and permanently granted, and made over to him but it had been his last earthly effort, he sank rapidly after it and when the news of his success, and the granting of his life long prayer arrived, Charles de Bonapart had past his trials, and anxieties and slept calmly under the green [reds] of Montpelier - his last illness was painful and he called often in his delirium for Napoleon to come with his long sword and vanquish the enemy. Napoleon was then only a lad of sixteen years at a Military school in France - had not seen his father for some time, and did not reach him in his illness - Joseph - I think was the only one of his family with him at his death & it was later when Napoleon was Emperor of France that he refused the request to have his fathers remains removed to Corsica - Our next desire was to see "Milleli" and as it is a long walk Mr. Hitz took a carriage and we drove by a beautiful wood leading past the new Penetentiary "[Castel??]" to the right of which is Milleli. The house is a ruin and never could have been pretty but the grounds are large and fine, it is a vast grove of olives & standing upon a side hill nestled down among the craigs the "look down" upon its dusty olive green as you approach it is very bewitching. After the death of Charles Cardinal Fesch became the financial advisor of Madame Bonapart and holding the purse strings with a very strong hand he opposed the improvement of the two estates which had reverted to the family, believing them to be only an additional expense and no profit, but Napoleon then a young man, loved Milleli and interceded with his Uncle to whom he always paid the greatest defference to improve the estate, his persuasion prevailed, although the Cardinal always declared every cent expended upon it thrown away, and always enlarged upon the debts of Charles at the time of his death, speaking of them as never paid although it was well known to all the family that through the excellent management of the Cardinal and the economy of Madame Bonapart the debts were all paid in the course of the first year, but the family never disputed the good Cardinal and Napoleon listened patiently while pleading for Milleli to what he humorously termed his Uncles refrain. Milleli became the favorite resort of Napoleon whenever he visited Corsica, and the shade of a monster live oak still standing in its decaying majesty was his favorite seat reading or meditating for hours under its low spreading branches. How much, I wondered as I stood under its glossy evergreen foliage, what he thought as he sat there, eighty years ago, he might have dreamed of the crown of France, for his ambition stopped at nothing, but did he dream of Waterloo & St Helena? Glimpses of the Old Guard might have passed his vision even then, but did he hear the little children chanting "Sound the trumpet, roll the drum For Napoleons ashes come" - God only knows what a mind like Napoleon's could think out under the old trees of Milleli It would seem that for many years this beautiful estate has lain in ruins, but this very winter it has been purchased by a Frenchman who is about putting it in a state of repair, workmen were busy clearing the brush from among the trees, and opening drains for the springs in the side hill, and all about the house and garden little flowers had been freshly planted even around the base of the large trees near the house little curlings of tile had been made, and violets and geraneums set. I was glad to see this and with a look through the basement of the old house the only portion which was open to us and which contains heavy presses for olive oil, and a prayer that time would long deal kindly with the dear old oak, we betook ourselves to our carriage and were soon crossing the bridges and winding down the circuitous roads of [Casteloachy?] past the acres of prisoners at their field labor with their armed [] at their backs - and on our way to the town, finishing our drive by a long ride on the Cours Granville almost to the isle 'Sanguenaire - The wind blew fresh and cold. I was chilled through and know now that I must have taken cold. at night I went to Hotel Swiss to hear Mrs. Hitz read [] and was almost in a state of exhaustion, went home at 9 1/2 as I did every night - as long as I had strength to walk - I have ommitted I fear to speak of the Wednesday which was set for us to dine the Prefect", it came duly and so did the hour 6 P.M. which was after dark. The Hotel Swiss was all in consternation at the announcement of the event. Mr. & Mrs. Hitz drove to my door. Mr. Dallman accompanied the carriage and came rushing up to my room to announce their presence, assuring me that it was a great honor the Prefect was doing us, that the like had not been done for any persons this winter: - Mrs. Hitz followerd him, and with a few extra touches for each other we pronounced each other "ready". I in my inevitable black silk, Mrs. Hitz in a purple - we were soon ensconsed in the broad drawing rooms of the Prefecture, with their chintz tapestry, and flowing curtained doors, and dinner soon followed - at the table were His Honor Monsieur Le Prefect" - Miss Mary, and the younger son. Mr. & Mrs. Hitz - Miss Palmer the English Governess and a Miss Stephenopoli wife of one of the Greek Calvinists, or rather a descendant - and her father a Corsican. this completed the company. Miss Campbell & Miss Grant were invited, but as one had not met, or for some other cause they declined, much to my regret, as I had hoped to meet them there. I could not describe the dinner, but it was excellent, and the company social to agreeable - after an hour or two at table we returned to the drawing rooms, and passed the evening till eleven in conversation, examining pictures, books, and listening to music, which finally provoked a waltz and the drawing rooms grew very gay. We had learned with regret that Monsieur Gerry had been appointed to another position in Paris, and would leave Ajaccio in the course of a week or two. All France is divided into Departments, presided over by a "Prefect" and sub Prefects, of 1st 2nd & 3rd classes. Corsica is a 1st class Dept. and accordingly commands a 1st class Prefecture. The salary of the Prefect of Paris, which is the highest is 100,000 francs. Corsica 50,000 - and all but the materials for living are found. Furnished Mansion, servants, carriages repairs &c &c. On our way home, the driver failed to stop at my house, but drove quickly past, and I was prevailed upon in view of my dark stair way to remain the night at "Hotel Suisse" but remembering that I had taken my little pet petroleum down stairs to light Mrs. Hitz and left it hidden in a corner of the lower hall I rose with the day and harkened home to save its life. I was too late, although it was only in the gray of the morning - some honest Corsican was before me, and my pet was henceforth no more mine. I was vexed. This was Wednesday, the 2nd of Feb. it was not until the following Saturday that we visited Milleli and I took cold, on Sunday I attended English Church with Mrs. Hitz - sat in a draft, my feet on the cold bricks, coughed all day, went home in a chill, and next day could not leave my bed. By this time I had been sensible that my room was terribly infested with fleas. At first I thought I got them in the streets as we walked so much but later I became convinced that I manufactured them at home - And to my extreem annoyance, whoever visited me was devoured by them as badly as myself, it became impossible to sleep [or?] live, and I too weak to leave the appartment, in addition to this my Landlady was exceedingly careless of my wants, her servant equally so, leaving me sometimes two days & nights without even water, never entering my chamber, and I up 4 stories with no family on the same floor, and ill I thought this rough - After a few days I could leave my bed, in the mean time Mr. and Mrs. Hitz departed for Nice, and I sent for M. Dallman to come and take my trunk to his hotel, and on Monday 14 February in the rain I set out on foot for my new residence, having first paid my miserable landlady her 25 francs for the entire month. Twenty times that amound would be no temptation for me to endure what I had during the fifteen days I had been in her rooms, and added to this, mutilated with insects till I could scarce bear the weight of my cloths on my body, and every article I had infested with them, and must take more or less of them for seed with me to my next residence. I could see no way of ever getting rid of the effects of her filth and miserableness, - I dont want to hate anyone, but really I have very little love for this Mechant Corsican femme, - I dont care anything about her giving up the ghost now, because I am well away from her, but it would have been money in my pocket, and flesh on my bones, if those long wax tapers had been lighted for her, before I ever saw either of them I shall not soon forget the vast undertaking it seems to me, when on that cold rainy Monday morning I knew that I was to get down off from that two story bed & pack all I had into a trunk, putting everything into shape to be removed, and make my way down my [] stairs and through the street to Hotel Swiss - I [] glad to go, but Oh: what an undertaking for the little strength I had to bring to the work, how my back twinged at the thought, and how I labored to accomplish it by Eleven oclock the time for Dallman to come with the Porters - but I did accomplish it, there was no sweat on my brow, for I was chilled with the cold & damp, but I will not say that there were not some tears on my face before it was ended, - and how long and steep did look that old narrow stone stepped lane leading up into the old "Capucins." I made it out alone however, but I was fain to ask for help to reach my room, and then I was to try my best to get rid of my infected clothing. I could have done better with more strength, as it was I did my best, but up to the present writing I am not free from their ravages, nor do I expect to be while I remain on Corsica - Mr Dallman had been kind as a brother, and gave me a room facing the South, this time at 30 francs a Month, and let me do as I pleased for my meals, it would be some time before I could have strength to go regularly down to them, and I had milk bread butter &c brought to me each morning and did my best at making myself [livable?] if not comfortable. I have neglected to mention that Mrs. Hitz and I called at Hotel France to see Miss Campbell, who was at breakfast, and we left our cards - this call was returned next day but I was in bed & besides my Merchant Landlady did not think it worth her while to send them up to me till 10 oclock at night. I addressed a note to Miss C. which resulted in a call from her and Miss Grant. She is a large, middle aged lady, with intelligent face and reminded me of Mr. Brown former Sergt at Arms of the U.S. Senate. Miss C. is brilliant & "clearer" - Miss Grant is a Scotch young lady, and is to me, a very acceptable and lovely person - After coming to the Hotel, Miss C invited a few friends, myself among the number to spend an evening with her. I thought I should not go, as there is no way of approaching the hotel by carriage, but I yielded to importunity, and my own desires to meet Miss C again, and walked in the evening to her hotel it was cold and altogether too much for me and again I was thrown back into bed from which at this writing I am just arisen I ought to note here the annoyance I receive from the expiration of the Postal Treaty between France & America. The latter I believe being desirous of bringing France to some cheaper rate of postage, refuses to form another on the old basis and the consequence is that there is no arrangement between the two nations and all letters must go & come via England or Germany. The French steamers I believe I convey no American mail, and postage can only be paid to Liverpool or Hamburg either way, and as all postage which is not prepaid must be increased if not doubled, all letters which I receive from America come with from one to two francs extra postage to be paid on them, it frequently happens that a letter is double weight, or over 1/4 ounces - and the arrival of a boat often costs me five francs or over for postage on the letters it brings me - while I prepay all mine to England which is nearly 1/2 a franc - my postage is one of my heaviest items - I have just received a letter from Sally which I had waited long for it having been sent to San Francisco Cal. but by it I learn that [Lester] has purchased a new stove for Rosa, and that they are likely to hold together for a time now. When I returned to the hotel, it was almost empty, there were only Mr. & Mrs. Cleeve, and Mr. & Mrs. Nigall, a young married couple from London, he is an artist, Mrs. W. was from Edinburgh, bright & cheerful as a kitten, they occupy a suite of rooms on the same floor with me, and we are the only occupants of the entire etage. They are abounding in good sense and are a world of company for me. I could not have more acceptable neighbors, so far as I yet know them. The Nice Boat of of Friday 25th brought a number of passengers both English and German, and five of them fell to our share, a German his wife and invalid daughter of 16 who resembles Mamie Barton much more than does Miss Gervy, but still she is not as pretty they are of Berlin, the name, Wassman, and two Englishmen, one very delicate, weak lungs, very pale, and very gentlemanly, his name I think is "Woodruff." but I can speak more definitely if it proves worth the while at some later day. I did not meet them the first dy and not until Saturday evening when I went down to table d hote and passed the evening in the saloon with all the guests except the Cleeves. - And this morning for I am now up to date which is Sunday February 27, 1870 * - I was able to go below with my cheery friend Mrs. Wigall and sit in front of the hotel with the German till dinner, or rather - "dejeuner" of which I partook, with a good relish [* [* - NOTE date] *] The English portions of the household attended church - and later went for a walk for which I was not able, but while I sat at the door, Mrs. Wassmann brought me a letter from Mrs. Sarah B. Earle of Worcester, sweet and gentle and loving as the carol of a bird, it contained one little stanza which I presume must be original & is so sweet I choose to transcribe it here - In all this worlds close busy crowd, I stand apart Aside, alone - And wrap my spirit in the shroud of cherished hope forever flown. I have my three, for daily care, they bless my life At every hour. For whom my life is one great prayer, my love, a strong sustaining power. Yet never can a single kiss stamp on their lips its loving glow Than does not sanctify its bliss, by cold pale lips beneath the snow. ------ The person who could write that, could write other poems, and we must have them. Ajaccio, Island of Corsica January 3rd, 1876 Gen’l Whitaker My Esteemed friend, perhaps the date which commences this letter, and the name which will finish it will both be a suprise to you, but may I dare hope not an unwelcome one? It has been in my thoughts to send my soldierly greeting to you from this distant land, and tell you how it fares with your worn comrade who grew weak and fell by the wayside. Eight years was a long march, and still I never wearied till the good strength went out from muscle and nerve; and then, believing it only for an hour, I crept away for rest into the shade, out a little from the crash of wheel and hoof and listened, and watched with beating heart and straining tearful eye, the ever fainter roll of the drums, and the careless tossing of the banners in the sunlight, and the dazzling gleam of the Four hundred thousand bayonets, as the glorious “Grand Armies” of my country swept past, and on, ever on to power and victory. But while I trusted and hoped, hour by hour, in brave confidence that I could not fail, the more practiced eye of the surgeon saw, and ordered one to the rear: and here, on this little wave-washed island of mountains and flowers, rocks and sunshine, I still wait, and watch and listen for the roll of the drums, the tossing of the banners, and the marching steps of my comrades beyond the sea. And I pray. Oh: how earnestly day by day for the slowly returning strength which shall bring me my discharge from rest and foreign lands, and permit me, once more, "fit for duty" to take my place in the ranks of the working armies of my country and march with them to the end. Once more to battle with error. to help to sever the shackles of the oppressed of every name and kind, to hold firm the right-, and set right the wrong, to raise up the weak against the power of the mighty, to make our country what it should and must be, true and just, as well as brave and strong. Once more to comfort the afflicted, to give rest and shelter to the weary, water to the thirsty, bread to the hungry, to stay the tide, and bind the wounds that bleed, or take the farewell message and point the glazing eye to hope and Heaven. That my prayer is one day to be granted I firmly trust, and the happiest hour of all my life will be that on which my foot once more presses the soil so endeared to us all, saved by the suffering, hallowed by the death, baptized in the blood, and protected still by the manly principles and patriotism of the American soldier. With kind remembrances to all and the highest esteem for you and yours. I am always truly your friend Clara Barton Ajaccio. Island of Corsica Mediterranean Sea Jan 7, 18[?]0 My dear Sam and Amelia It has reached me here, the mournful intelligence that your little earth Angel is no longer with you, And I see you sad of heart, tearful of eye, weary of head, languid of step, wounded in spirit, clothed in [sable?], full of tender memories longing for the peace, and waiting for the healing that only time can bring. You have a right to mourn, for your little darling was of the pure, and sweet and bright of earth. She had grown dear to you by her very helplessness, doubly dear by her sufferings, and the tenderest chord in your memories today is the pleading look she turned upon you for help when you had none to give. I know well how sorrow clings to itself, and how loath it is to part even with its sting. But can you for a moment dear children follow that pleading glance beyond yourselves, and remember that when it turned from you, it turned upon Him whose eye neither wearies nor slumbers, whose love was stronger and tenderer than yours, and whose arm was mighty to save; appeal was not in vain. You think your tiny one was weak and and little to go that great journey alone, and you wish you could have kept her a few years, till she was stronger or you perhaps could have gone to prepare the way and receive her when she came. - Do you know that my confidence in the love of God is so great that I believe he permitted the Spirit hands of the one we so loved and venerated to reach out and take his baby grandchild in and fold it to his breast. That while the sorrow lay so deep upon your hearts, there was joy for him in Heaven. - Ay: more, I believe it will be given him to keep, and instruct, and fit this infant mind for the progress and duties of the higher worlds to come, and that when at length you are permitted to join the group, you will find, not the little helpless baby you resigned with such tears and prayers, but a beautiful Spirit grown to loveliness and intelligence waiting to welcome you. - That under God, the loving intelligent spirits of the dear ones gone before, shall cherish and instruct your child. Could you have done better here? - Heaven has need of children, and you had one that the Angels wanted and they came and bore her away to be one of them: they will cherish and keep her for you. - Be comforted. - let your hearts heal, and your smiles once more shine out on the faces of your friends. Still love the little cradle, and tiny shoes, and playthings, but always remember that if your darling has need of them, she has far better than there Lovingly your Clara - Ajaccio, Island of Corsica January 10, 1870 My dear Mrs. Earle Something has gone wrong with our letters and whatever it is I am “bound” this day to attempt to set it right. The last that came to me from any loved one on the other side, was your dear “good bye”, the first to greet me here was your sweet letter like a dear thought that had followed me all the way, how I loved it. For the little parting note in New York I had only a kiss, but for the dear one which met me in my new home, I penned immediately a hasty line, that it was over, and all was well with me, and that I loved you and would wait to hear again. And now, the days have rolled on, and the weeks, and even months, and another year has given its title to our calendar of time - and no word, either my little note went astray and never reached you, or yours has not come to me, it matters not which, our hearts are right and true, and we will defy accident and delay. If this brings me no response, in due time I shall write again. Now, fearing that it was my letter that went wrong - I will not trust to a word it contained, and indeed it could only have carried me over a little space at best, as it was written the 20th of September. I must go far back and tell you That my voyage had all that a sea voyage ever has, that is so unfortunate as to escape adventure, and can boast of neither a gale, nor an ice-berg, nor a leak, nor a fire- With a steady head wind in our teeth every day of the voyage we ploughed, and pitched through, and at the end of two weeks found ourselves at Glasgow. You perhaps have known that my only sister Mrs Vassall of Washington, accompanied me across. And after a weeks visit in Scotland returned by the same steamer. I count that as the happiest portion of my entire tour thus far, for it was so comfortable and home like to have her with me. Scotland was lovely, we crossed it to Edinburg, a beautiful city, and visited Old Stirling that Walter Scot has made us love so much: Entered the castle where the “trembling draw-bridge rocked and rung. Saw the Douglas' room, and the cell of "Rhoderick Dhu," and I should have told you that at Edenberg as well, everything was “Mary Queen of Scots.” But I cannot tell you how dear and historic it all was. You will one day go and see it for yourself. The week passed all too soon, and its close took away my companion and sister, and from that hour I have looked on strange things alone. I have enjoyed them, and everywhere have found such warm loving hearts, still I spoke under a little restraint, and looked on alone. I spent some two weeks in London, it was time well spent, and I saw much although all London was supposed to be out of [rain?]. I found a guide who knew every thing, and chartered him for the entire time. If you ever cross the British Channel from Dover to Calais I hope you will have strength to do the subject better justice than I was able to do. I "did what I could” in venting my indignation at the short sloppy waters, the miserable boats, and still more miserable boats companies - I remember that I went on the first boat that crossed Aquia Creek on the way to Burnside’s Fredericksburg, and landed (if it could be termed so) - on the separate heads of the newly driven piles, without boarding, far out in the current of the river, in the middle of the night, the only woman - in mid winter - and it was luxury as compared with crossing on the regular boats from England to France. I remained at Paris only long enough to call on my old friend Minister Washburn, and proceeded still alone to Geneva - arriving at noon the 17th of September. Here I was not alone - if tender loving hearts, and grateful memories, and kind words of generous welcome, and willing hands, and ready feet are company, then was I not alone. Here was a sister, loving and intelligent, and a brother bright and strong, to take me by the hand, and tell me I was one with them, and how long they had waited for me, and the good old white-haired father grown tender by the long memory of his darling boy in a strange land in a voice trembling and choking with tears and emotion, to call me "daughter," and bid me a thousand times welcome to his house forever.- And from that moment to this every action has made their words good, - gold will never redeem our currency as richly as this grateful family have redeemed their pledges of friendshipo and affection to me. I remained with them three months, with the exception of about as many weeks which I passed with our excellent [Con???] and his wife, the Uptons,- but Geneva is cold in Winter, and its winds rushing from the mountain ranges of the Alps, and the Oberland down the Valley of Lake Leman and the Rhine, call for a trifle more of animal life and rigor than I have succeeded in acquiring in my short stay, and there was no way but to permit the North winds to blow me down to the sea in their rushing headlong course, and on the 16th of December having exhausted my injenuity in seeing how small a package I could describe (as Europe looks with a very malignant eye on Saratoga trunks) I once more set out before the breeze, a day and night of constant travel brought me to Marseille, which, though somewhat warmer, was still cold and windy, and I feared its effects I had read that the little sea-girt island of Corsica, was soft and mild in winter, and at all events it would be a canny little spot to go to, so in the mellow, yellow light of an Eight o clock Spring morning, with a light mist falling, and a splendid rainbow arching the Heavens, four sturdy French sailors rowed me out into the bay to the steamer bound for Ajaccio - and after twenty two hours of utter helplessness from sea-sickness I found myself just where I am this moment writing you, But I was neither as strong nor comfortable as I am today, for I am fain to believe I have found some healing in the air, and strength in the sunshine of my quaint little home. I wish I could tell you all about it, but I must see more of it first. Oh how much I wish you were here to see it with me, there are noble roads for such noble fellows as dear old Frank - . Louis Napoleon has a liking for Corsica - And has done many good things for it. Among these are the royal roads. - And nature had a liking for it also, and gave it Soft Air, rich sunshine, lucious fruits, Snow capt mountains, and little green valleys, clear brooks, magnificent forrests, myriads of birds and lapped it around with the clear blue waters of her gentlest sea. I have as yet seen only Ajaccio which is a pleasant village - in our new Western States it would long ago have passed for a city - The residence of the Prefect of the Iland who represents the Emperor of France is here, and some wealthy and influential Corsicans. It is only some three or four years since it commenced to have a reputation as a "health station," and the English have patronized it since, there are a number of families of Scotch and English making quite a little society, but I am the only American in Ajaccio, and for aught I know, on the island. I have seen no Americans since my departure form Geneva - The english who are here, are generally wealthy and aristocratic, rather stately, - still I find them agreeable company when I need it. The language of the Corsicans is a mixture of French and Italian, speaking neither very well. I should not think them a people remarkable for industry. A great many soldiers and shepherds among them which, as they are quite at peace with all the world cannot be laborious occupations. The women work much more than the men. No snow falls here in Ajaccio, and the oranges are ripe for gathering, next month the almonds bloom the olives are about the size of the wild black cherry and much resembles it. The mountains abound in goats, and the sheep are mostly black, and have as nearly hair as wool for covering, the horses are small, but strong, and hardy - The childhood home of Napoleon is still here, the house has been purchased by Louis Napoleon, and is unoccupied but well-preserved, it is needless to say that everything here is "Napoleon." The very children seem on his account to have a kind of pride of birth. And the Corsican Soldier looks Napoleon at you as you pass him on his beat: this is not strange, he has a right to be proud of the great production of his little island. My last intelligence of you placed you among the hills, and trees, and little running brooks, all that has long come to and end, even the running of the brooks, and I think of you now in your warm comfortable home with the happy children about you wondering if they can think of it at their little years, why you should not be as happy and light hearted as they. My darling friend, I dare not attempt to speak to you even words of comfort or consolation, you have thought so much more deeply - so much farther on all these points than I have, that my little ideas would be only weak & childish prattle to you, but this I think that "God has yet something more for you to do." I hope, not much "move to suffer" and more I know, that whatever he gives you to do in the future, you will, as you have in the past, do it well. For me I feel the full force of your supposition that possibly I have finished my work - but listen- I still wear the same name, and honestly have neither Reichenbach or "Liechtenstein" in mental reservation, and I promise faithfully to tell you when I have. How much I wish I could be living in in the joyful expectation, that when the next summer approaches it would bring you across to this dead old country just to spend the Summer and Autumn among the grandeur of its eternal rocks and mountains, - not the winter. Oh no, no. I cannot think of a winter in Europe for an American - mists, chill, fogs, darkness- rain. - Oh the daylight, and the moonlight; the sunshine, and the sunlight of my own loved land!! Please be the bearer of my congratulations to your palatial neighbors and kinfolk, and say to them that it was only Meet, when they had made a Paradise that God should send them an Angel to dwell in it. It is just as hard to say good bye here as it would have been in the middle of the first page - and just as easy as it would be at the end of the twentieth, but somewhere, and sometime and it may as well be here and now I must say. Always your loving friend Clara Barton Ajaccio, January 19th 1870 To Hon Mr. Washburn American Minister to France Dear Sir You will perceive by the above date that I have left Switzerland and entered your domain. The breezes and "Bises" of the Alps and Oberland blew me away, and I sought this little island for warmth and sunshine both of which I find. The town of Ajaccio where I have located is a pleasant winter residence, and is becoming quite a resort for the English and Scotch who flee from the dark sad winters of their own. But singularly, if I may accept a Dutchman who claims to have been an Officer in the Rebel Army, I find myself the Only American in the town, or so far as I have yet heard, on the island. I had not supposed there was a place on the face of the earth where the Yankee nation was so slightly represented - she generally does much better. It is customary, and I believe a point of etiquette for all strangers to pay their respects to the "Prefect" who represents the Emperor. There is a British Consul here who introduces and vouches for the good faith and standing of Her Majesty's loyal subjects, but as I suspect he would hardly vouch for me, whatever he might feel inclined to do for my Rebel colleague. I am fain to ask the favor of a line from you, to assure the "Prefect" that I am good enough to call and make my bow to him. If you think so. I am sorry to trouble you, Mr. Washburn with your many duties, but you know how zealous I have always been for the honor of the great American name, and nation, and nothing less than the fear that in my weak single hand it might come to disrespect: impels me to make the request. However ready I am to help uphold with might and main I must confess a shrinking from the position of grasping the American Colors alone, or with the very small force I find here; and rushing on to a given point of attack, and more especially as I am unable to learn that the Rebel Dutchman has ever been reconstructed. Hoping that this finds you well and happy I am with the highest Esteem Very truly yours Clara Barton This letter was not sent to Mr. Washburn in this form, but divided and a part sent to Mr. Ruble, and a part to Mr. Washburn. Paris 25 Jan 7, 1870 Ligation des Etats Unis Monsieur Le Prefect Je prends la liberte de vous presenter Mademoiselle Clara Barton un de mes compatrites d'une famille tres honorable. Mademoiselle Barton s'est beaucoup distintinguee pendant notre dernier guerre par un devouement a notre government, et pas les [ ] qu'elle a porties aux blesses de vos amies Je m'impresse de vous la recommender comme [designe] de tout consideration Je vous serai tres reconaissant si vous reconaissant voulez bien lui faire un accord bienveillant A greet monsieur le Prefect - l'assurance de mes sentiments les plus distinguee E B Washburn Minister Plenipotentiary Etats Unis d'American Monsieur Gerry nn Legation des Etats Unis d'Amerique pres la Confederation Suisse Berne le 25 Janvier 1870 Monsieur le Prefect J'ai l'honeur de vous adresser ces lignes pour introduire aupres de vous Mademoiselle Clara Barton de Washington DC, Estats-Unis d'Amerique qui aura l'avantage de vous remettre la pres sente et que je prends la liberte de vous recommander de la manier la plus pressante ne doutant point que vous serez charme de faire sa connaissance. Mademoiselle Barton s'est faire une renommee pareille a celle de Miss Florence Nightingale par sen devouement a la cause des soldats malades et blerres dan les hospitaux durant et a la suite de la terrible guerre civile, qui combatant de larmes et de aies a notre pays dendant le quatre annees qu'elle dura, et sen nom est cheri par des coeurs recemaissants au Amerique. Ces nobles sacrifices et constants services et fatigues ayant naturellement altere la sante de Mademoiselle Barton elle a du aller chercher au climate plus deux que le notre perer obtener sinon l'entrer retablissement de sa sante du moins quelque soulagement et du repos sous le beau ciel de votre ile Tout ce que vous daignerer faire en faveur de Mademoiselle Barton sera sincerement apprecie et je vous prie d'eu agreer d'avance mes s'avercements tres empresses et de bien vouloir disposer de moi en tonte ou pareille occasion. J'ai l'honneur d'etre Monsieur le Prefect Aue respect Votre [?] devoue Horace Rublee Ministre Resident des Etats Unis A l'Honorable Monsieur Gerry Prefet du Department de la corse a Agacein [Letter in French addressed to Monsieur le Prefet, dated 25 January 1870, signed Chas H Upton US Consul] Seed Time and Harvest - bu Ada Cambridge Fret not thyself so sorely, heart of mine For that the pain hath roughly broke thy rest, That thy wild flowers lie dead upon thy breast, Wherein the cloud veiled sun hath ceased to shine. Fret not that thou art seamed and scarred and lone, That clods are filled where tinted vetches were; That long worms crawl to light, and brown rifts, bare of green and tender grasses, widely ------- yawn. God's hand is on the plow. So be there still. Thous canst not see Him, for thine eyes are dim, But wait in patience, put thy trust in Him.- Give thanks for love, and leave thee to His will. All in due time the lowering clouds shall rain Soft drops on thy parched furrows: I shall sow In tears and prayers, and green corn blades will grow. I shall not with the wild flowers back again. I shall be glad that I did work and weep - Be glad, Oh God, my slumbering soul did wake Be glad my stubborn heart did heave and break Beneath the plow - When angels come to reap Be glad O. Father, that my land was tilled, And sown, and watered, in the harvest day - When Thou will cast the weeds and tares away, And when with ripened fruit thy barns are filled. Keep me my faith I pray: I cannot see And fear to intermeddle with Thy work. Oh: though I wince and fret, I would not shirk The discipline that is so good for me. I know that Thou will make my grief to cease - Will send the cool, soft drops of healing rain, And make my searred heart green with springing grain That after patient waiting cometh peace. That after faithful labor I shall rest, And after weeping have my fill of joy, Thou breakest down, to build up, not destroy; Thou doest right O Lord!-Thou knowest best. United States Consulate Geneva Switzerland April 17/70 General Butler My esteemed friend When I remember that, of the many requests I have made of you, you not only never denied me one, but never listened indifferently. I can scarcely justify myself for all the hesitancy I have felt in preferring this one more. You have noticed perhaps, that Mr. Chandler's new Consular Bill (if passed) abolishes Dorence Atwater's Consulat. (Seychelles). Only He who knoweth all things, knows how hard I strove, with my little power, and fast failing strength under an opposing Administration to secure it, and "fit him out" as I should have done for a young sick brother, and he has traveled half round the world to reach it, and held it a trifle over a year. If really he must be set afloat again so summarily, I shall still be glad that he has had it. For he has done well- gained in strength and health paid the last debt hanging over him through his court-martial and imprisonment had one year of peace and serenity, performed his duties well, And established himself as a competent, honest, and prompt Government Officer, capable of holding a position of much greater importance and trust. The first day that I saw the Bill, I addressed a note to Governor Buckingham, Also Mr. Summer, asking if Mr. Atwater must lose his present Consulate [position], that another be given him: And I hoped, that with these two applications, I could feel secure, and satisfied without troubling you: but it is impossible. Others mean well, always speak me kindly, but it is only you, who ever help me to accomplish, and I pray you pardon me General, for the trespass which asks you to give this little matter one moments thought, and, (if you think proper) see that Mr. Atwater be left undisturbed, or point out to Gov. Buckingham a suitable Consulate some where else, and have him demand it in the name of his State.. Please do not let them make him some Consul's clerk, for he is more capable of standing at the head, than most men whom he would be sent to serve. There will be Consul Generals appointed under that Bill, if it pass, of far less capability than Dorence Atwater. He can have no idea of his danger yet, as I sent him a newspaper notice of the Bill only yesterday by "Messageries Imperials" I approve of "retrenchment" - but for my life, I cannot make it seem to me that Atwater is one of the men to commence it upon. Perhaps I am unduly sensitive, but I dread to think of those sleek, comfortably situated tormentors of his at the War Department exulting over his discomfit. With all he has had to pay out of his little salary in this first year and a half of beginnings I cannot imagine how he can have saved enough by this time to take him home again - true, it is very possible he might never want to go, but it is always cheerful to feel that one can. When anything is decided in the matter, either for or against, it would be a great favor if I could be informed at an early moment. I am happy in being able to report myself in better health than when I left America, and to add the pleasant fact of having found a home still under the "Old Flag" and friends as kind and good as home in the persons of our excellent Consul and wife, Mr & Mrs Upton. I watch, with longing, eager eyes all that is doing on the other side, and am prouder than ever of my country, and if Such as I, who have done nothing can find cause for pride and joy, what must be your satisfaction, General who view in these great triumphs of human liberty only the results of your own noble thought and action. I am neither a prophet, nor the daughter of a prophet, nevertheless, more than five years ago I made a prophecy, but no one would listen to me: And through all the intervening time, I have openly proclaimed it, and no one would believe me, until now, within a few months, one here and there commences to discern for himself, and nods sagaciously, and believes himself the most far-seeing of politicians, and wisest of men. They have all only to wait a little to be wiser yet. - I will not name my prophecy to you my good friend for you may not be ready to admit it yet, but in the day of its fulfilment you will be there to see. Hoping that my too long letter may somehow find a pardon, I beg to be permitted to remain as ever. With the highest respect Very gratefully yours Clara Barton. Geneva Switzerland April 11th 1870 Capt. E. B. Ward My esteemed and kind friend I recollect upon an occasion of mentioning in your presence the circumstances of having once failed to accomplish something I had undertaken in good faith, for the lack of a competent friend at hand, at the moment when needed, and you good naturedly asked me, "why I did not tell you what was required". I could only thank you and remember it. I wish to accomplish something now, or, to prevent others from accomplishing something, which amounts to the same thing, and at this great distance, and from this strange land with no friend at hand, I decided to "tell you" - You will please understand at once that it is not for myself I have no necessities, but like dear 'Aunt Emily", you know my family is large. Perhaps you recollect that Dorence Atwater was appointed U.S. Consul at the islands of Seychells, in the Indian Ocean, which position he has held some fifteen months only, and although with a little salary, and a hermit's life, apart from all the world, he has, for once, been out of the reach of enemies, free from persecution, safe from danger of prison bolts and cells, and happy, and in that genial tropical climate, his lungs strengthening, and health returning. But I observe a Bill before the present Congress introduced by your esteemed Senator, Mr. Chandler, which proposes to re-organize the Diplomatic and Consular Department, and which among many others, prepares to abolish the Consulate at Seychells. I am naturally sorry for this, but do not for a moment pretend to criticise the Bill or question its wisdom. The State Dept. and the Chairman of the Committee of Commerce understand the necessities of the Consular Dept. of the United States, and its claims upon the Treasury far better than I do, or ever can, - this is their business. But on the other hand, it is possible that I understand the necessities of a broken down soldier, who has served his voluntarily through all her years of direct peril who has risked his life, and given his strength for her and in her sacred name has served humanity and suffered injustice, and in my judgement that soldier has claims upon his country which cannot be ignored I had hoped for Mr. Atwater, that at least he might be permitted to remain undisturbed under the patronage of his country as many months as he lay in prison for her, that she would feed him as long as she starved him, and it would so, if the Powers that be could only comprehend the facts: they are good, and generous and patriotic, and try to be just, and I respect all this - but I don't want them to sacrifice my boy If that Bill pass, and they decide to close up those little Consulates, I could wish that they would give Atwater another, and a better one: He should have had a better one at first, he is fully Competent to fill it, he is a firm, honest, straight forward business man, and commands the respect and admiration of all gentlemen with whom he has official transaction. He has commenced life rightly. Although in a place noted for intemperance both in high and low life, he has never tasted even wine since he left America, and in a private letter written to myself last July, I find the following paragraph. I have just made out my second quarterly return and sold my draft for salary. I have privately written you that the custom of foreign Consuls was, to sell their drafts Inscribed in a letter of Dr Louis Appia's to the Grand Duchess of Baden in congratulation of her Birthday Dec. 3. 1870- To all the homage, hopes, and thanks So warmly traced above. My heart pleads still, to add one word. Your pardon, 'tis - my love. Clara Barton Like a vision of the early days when life was strong & well And its joys & hopes were many, and its cares & sorrows few Before the salty noon tide suns have chased the dews away The soul had learned its fever thirst the heart - its slow decay. While all was fresh and fair dear girl as is thy cheek today - Late a vision of that strong young life there hast risen on my way - I reached my hand in greetings and found a golden link That drew me back along the track of [girlhoods] memories grasy [brink?] I sat an hour and lived [it] then oer these memories like a pall - The work, the play - the true the false - the living dead an all - And as I dreamed my heart grew light - with freshened fancies frought - And I blessed the lovely vision and the golden link she brought - Her own path lies before her, as she walks it side by side, With him her heart has chosen its companion and its guide To the Our Blessed [Soverein? Savior?] let this my prayer ascend. Be Thou their stay their brother their counsellor and friend Make smooth their rugged paths O Lord, and swift their feet to run And be Thyself the golden link that binds their hearts on one - When one has passed through a really great moment of life, when the light of an important day has sunk into the deep, dark waters of the past, no more to reappear but in the shape of a new day, with new lights and shadows, two feelings prevail, or struggle in the mind. First, the intense desire to live through once more, if but in a lively remembrance, the rich hours too quickly flown. But if not this, then, to wrap them carefully, Ay!, sacredly up, and lay them down in the depths of the heart to rest and wait, if perchance some future occasion call them out like gala-day garments to be worn yet one time more, if not, to wait still, tenderly guarded, and well kept, forever. Six months ago, when I had locked the doors of Miss Barton's "Work rooms for the poor women of Strasburg, and placed the keys in the hands of the owner, and tried to realize her, with only her waiting maid, threading her way doubtfully and dangerously across the war-heaving lands of France where men trod cautiously, or not at all, to the smoking ruins, and bloody streets of Paris, I thought that part of my life's story done, and turning painfully back to my own quiet home, - and God knows how quiet the home of a German clergyman's daughter can be, tried to realize there, and think out some of the great lessons of practical humanity, which had been taught: so modestly and yet so powerfully, not only to me, but to all, to every person who had been permitted to watch the organization and growth of that work during the months of its existence. To create something out of nothing, - to bring life, and light, and order to a state of things entirely chaotic, to raise a perfect organization with the inward power of constant enlargement, and of putting to use all the creatures that may chance to swarm within its circle, each according to its nature and adaptation, the circle never too small, still room for all, and all to move in perfect harmony had been the character of this work. It had never been brought to a close by its originator, but Simply left, at its greatest magnitude and prosperity. But from that moment, it was only a body without a soul. There was no force there great enough to send the life current through those veins again: not another throb of the pulse, all was cold and dead, and in due time was buried. But the originator lived, and toiled on, From Paris, on the grand Fourth of July, came back such tidings as these from its grateful people + + + + + + "But when at last we saw Our sin and folly end in crime and shame, The brother slaughtered by the brothers hand Sheets red with blood, and [] wrapped in flame, The city full of anguish and dismay, Of widows and orphans, the she came." "Now as before, true to the self same taste Where suffering is the greatest, she is there, With loving heart, and helping hand to save Body from pain, and spirit from despair." When the Autumn leaves fell, we heard of her among the war-crushed thousands of Belfort and Montbeliard, and finally, it was whispered to us that when this should be finished in France she would come once more to Strasburg, and pass her hands once more across the anxious brows of her weary old children there, and that out of the ground so well ploughed and watered in the spring time, should grow for them a beautiful Christmas Tree, bearing gold and silver fruits. One day, the rustle of the travelers garments was heard in my waiting home, and the heavy "thud" of the solid American trunk, announced that some one had come. A few hours of old time conference, a night or two of planning and arranging, and I was gathered in the mantle, and set down once more at ten o clock on a December night in the old Cathedral city. How familiar all seemed. How "Richard was himself again" Then I went down into the hidden recesses and brought out the treasured garments, and for a few days I wore them right royally and well. All was arranged with the most perfect order and simplicity: let me attempt to apply the lesson and describe it the same. About three hundred letters of invitation had gone to the addresses of our former working women: and it was only by these addressed they could have been reached, for theirs were not names which appeared often in the lists of the letter-carriers A large hall, beautifully lighted and warmed, with fine reception and refreshment rooms was prepared to receive our guests. Two magnificent pines sent over from the Black Forest, brilliant with lights, and ornaments, and gifts, stood on an elevated platform. It was seven oclock, the hour fixed for the opening of the Festival. Through the dark cold night, appeared one by one those well known faces, presenting at the door, their letters of invitation as a ticket of admission. They were escorted to the large reception room, where they were politely recevied and seated until it should be time to enter the Hall. Called out to this room by the desire to welcome the arrival of a little band of wounded children who had been invited, Miss Barton appeared unexpectedly among them, when like one man, the whole mass rose, and stood, waiting in respectful silence for her to speak first, but stretching out hundreds of hands to reach hers, who could only raise her eyes filled with tears, and express in looks, what went so deeply to her heart. The Trees were lighted, - the doors opened, and one after another they stepped in, in perfect order, silently to the prepared seats These rough faced women, working day and night, out in the streets, down on the river, in the washing houses, up in the attics near the sky where misery and hunger reign, these women, who, on receiving the first help after the bombardment, from the Relief Committees, required the presence of four strong men to hold them back from breaking in doors: quarelling and mob-fighting, these women, our friends, walked in quietly, decently, happily, no worse, nor different in any manner than the best educated of our ladies would do at a reception at court. How our hearts swelled with gratitude as we saw them come in, how the very wells of our souls came up to our eyes, and the the thankfulness of all broke out in the oft repeated words, "My God, I thank Thee for such a day." Out from under the drooping pines swell the notes of an organ, and a rich manly voice raises a Christmas Hymn, - These hearts are too full and happy not to sing. The strain is caught up, and in an instant the hall is as filled with music and song, as with light and goodness. And these voices, that one little year ago, cursed and waled for bread, tonight sent up their spontaneous hymns of grateful praise to the Author and Giver of all good things. It ceased, and the sonorous voice of the Clergyman reached my ear, "Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth, and good will to men." He paused, "And there shall be no more war -" spake a soft clear voice at my side. A prayer was given: a welcome in Miss Barton's name, who now takes her place upon the right, in the rich mosaic of the shadowy pines, with the mosses, and crystals, and scarlet winter berries at her feet. On the left stands Mr. Theo d Krieger, late American Vice Consul at Strasburg. The signal is given, and up they come to the platform, as name by name makes its way from the gentlemans lips, to the ears of the owner: And in each hand of the old workers, that other hand that had upheld them so firmly, when the fires of war, and the waters of misery swept over them, placed a handsome purse filled with the brightest, newest silver pieces, and bearing the card of the owners name. From here, each woman was conducted by one of the Matrons in waiting, to the refreshment room where elegant young ladies of the town stood by the large tables, to serve them with chocolate, coffee, bread and cake. Oh the cheery faces one met there then, and the hearty shaking of hands, and the tales or fortune or misfortune one heard from their lips. The gifts distributed, Miss Barton joined them at the tables, and sat, and ate, and drank with them, and never was she too tired, to hear their stories, never did her kindness fail a moment, never was any one, be it the poorest, or most miserable, treated with less politeness than the other. But wherefore the little table covered with neat, white packages, and tied with the traditional red string, still standing under the tree? A movement in this direction calls the curious crowd back to the grand saloon. At a word, ten young girls, the cutters of the former work rooms come forward to receive their gifts: beautiful, and adapted to their condition, Splended work boxes, nice blotting cases, and to crown all, a wrought-glass pitcher and Beer glass for the head tailor, carried to him by Miss Barton herself, "brought down the house" All the world knows that Strasburg, could not be Strasburg without its Beer. It is ten oclock, still all quiet happiness, and full order. A movement towards the platform becomes visible. A curtain which had been cautiously arranged during the distribution of the gifts, is thrown aside, and a bust of Miss Barton appears tendered her by an artist friend, "Member of the "Comite' de Secours Strasbourgeois". A graceful young girl steps forward to the bust bearing lightly on her hands a rich crown of oak leaves of the deepest green, studded with golden acorns, and with an air of mingled reverence, love and pride, drops it upon the head. This is the chief cutter who for nine months had prepared the work for these women. The original, suspecting nothing, and more astonished than anyone else by this sudden appearance of herself was drawing always farther and farther away under the shadow of the trees. The crowd still pressed forward to wonder and admire. The artist rose to address them in their own Alsacian dialect. At the utterance of his first quaint sentence, - "Our good Miss Barton has come back to Strasburg like a real Christmas child as she is." One notices the tremor that runs over that sea of dark upturned faces. Still the silence of death reigned in the hall. He went back, and lived through with them the old days of their suffering and danger, and recited how at the moment of their deepest peril, one came, uncalled, and unknown, as to the rescue of the drowning, and held them in an iron grasp till the floods of grief rolled by: How they toiled for her, earning honest bread, and were no longer beggars. How, under her guidance, they not only fed and reclad themselves, but their suffering Sisters in many a besieged city of France. Ever the dark faces pressed nearer, looking up more earnestly into the face of the speaker, drinking in every word, and ever the retreating figure under the trees glided farther along, looking always deeper and deeper down among the mosses, and the crystals. At length the speaker ventured a proposition as a request from Miss Barton to them. Viz: that they keep this last gift as a souvenir of her and make it the foundation of a Savings Bank deposit. "My good women I think we ought to make her this promise, eh": "Yes," "Yes," "we will," "we will", rang out from three hundred voices, and rose to heaven like the incense of grateful hearts. Then, up they walked, each with outstretched arms, to touch her lips, to press her hand, to breath once more the blessing with the last Adieu. How the hard hands brushed away the tears, and how each one tried to be brave and womanly, as she sobbed her way out of the hall. There was no need of policemen at the door that night to keep those women in order, and see that they went quietly to their homes. - And so it ended; the ever to be remembered evening of December 30, 1871. And at a quarter to twelve I found myself standing alone, at the foot of our stripped but still beautiful trees, thanking God over and over, in the humble fullness of my heart; for the great lesson he had permitted me to read. And praying - Oh My Father in Heaven, may the spirit of perfect charity and love, that casteth out all fear, the justice that elevates the poorest and the lowliest to the same level of true humanity as the rich, the power of a noble mind so far above all common order of things, teach this great lesson not to me alone, but to all who in weakness and futility labor to be charitable without kindness, lawful without justice, and religious, without love. And when my thoughts came back again to the practical matters of life, and I could draw a reasonable conclusion, it was this - That if all we have here witnessed be but a fair type of American work by American women, then, America should know neither poverty nor wretchedness through all her broad borders. - Anna Zimmerman Carlsruhe December 23, 1872 A poem sent to little Lizzie Zimmerman of Carlsruhe March 2, 1872. - I know a little German girl Who sometimes comes to see me Her hair is brown, her teeth like pearl, Her eyes are dark and dreamy. Her cheeks are like the downy peach Her lips are like the cherry. And just to listen to her speech Would make a sad heart merry. She dances all the walks along Like a little moonlight fairy, Her blithe lines recalling the song Of the opene'd-door Canary. Where she may pass, the feathery grass, Lifts up its head in gladness. The street chief is Blumenstrasse As if to banish sadness. But though so gay, she questions well Her elder sister Anna And begs she will wise stories tell And matter learns, and manner, ---- From ten to twelve, she goes to school And learns full many a lesson And when she's followed every rule She waits for [Mitttag?]-essen. ---- She's very useful to Mamma Is helpful , wise, and able, She brings his slippers to Papa, And says grace at the table. ---- Her feet at quick to come and go Her hands are light and busy And if you seek her name to know 'Tis darling little Lizzie - ---- And if one day upon the street (A comer or a goer) My little friend you chance to meet I'll tell you how youll know her. ---- She'll wear a Christmas garnet hood, Or a hat of feathery sheen The peachy cheeks on either side With the sparkling smile between And a dainty little "rain-cloak Of the choicest blue and green, ---- And should you bid "Good-morning" Mark the modest graceful air And listen well the bird-like note That warbles, "danke schr" - ---- And when it all is at an end Just come and tell me true That you've seen and love my little friend If you wish me to love you. ---- And while you'r telling this to me, She's tripping up and down Bright and joyous, blest and free The merriest heart in town. ---- God guard our little Lizzie sweet In every care and strife And guide those little dancing feet Through the labyrinths of life. --- Carlsruhe March. 2, 1872 Dear Miss There are now 18. months since we know each other. And never in all the difficulties we had to pass through was there any opportunity to mistrust each other. It is on this basis of our friendship that I venture today a quite extraordinary demand, and I am sure you will take it as it is, and ask no further explanations of me. It is not to see you any more in any private way, and to let all communica- tions between us bear an official character. You may be sure that I do such a thing. but because I think it necessary for both of us, and certain that my respect, my love, and gratefulness will never change towards you, whatever changes life shall impart to us. Believe me Always Yours very truly, Carlsruhe March 2, 1872 Dear Miss I have this moment your letter of today and although I cannot understand, I trust it. The relations between us have been of a nature so true, open, and solid that there is no room left for doubt. Your course in the past has been one which has chal- lenged my highest confidence of both purpose, and judgement, and like yourself, upon this basis. I can rest the action of the present, and the future perfectly confident, that whatever demand you make has its reasons, honorable, and sufficient, and in this trustful spirit I accept it, sorrowfully, it may be but without hesitation or question. The conditions of your letter shall be thoroughly respected, and I leave to you the breaking of the silence if ever it is broken - but if never this is done be always certain that the same love, confidence and respect which I have ever borne you, I bear you still to the latest day in every land, and wait humbly and hopefully to meet you in the brighter life which shall clear the mysteries of this. Very truly yours, Josephine Griffins died at Wash Sunday morning February 18,1872 I read the news at [Carlsruhe?] March 10 also Sunday morning - & wrote - My poor sorrowing children What this day brings to me: I, who suspected nothing, and waited every day with the glad hope of reunion in my heart: - I pray you will not misunderstand, do not think I write to offer you consolation in your bereavement - I have none to offer - I too am bereaved, and need consolation, -- nor to give you strength to bear it, - I have none to give you, - I too want strength - - nor sympathy poor sympathy - I too, need sympathy. I have no words, up to this moment I have not a tear I can only stand by you, your dear hands in mine, silent, - [st?med], - waiting - waiting to learn how in the Providence of God this noonday sacrifice was needed - waiting in sorrow and love, with you, for you by you - always Clara Barton [Carlsruhe?], Germany March 10,1872 - Transcribed and reviewed by volunteers participating in the By The People project at crowd.loc.gov.