OF GRAVES, OF WORMS, OF EPITAPHS
After the Civil War Clara Barton engaged in a sad mission. Of the Federal soldiers, there were 80,000 missing. Letters from the sorrowing were coming to the President and the Secretary of War, for information. To obtain the names of the missing, how died, where buried, and other information about loved ones, was a tremendous undertaking,—it was Clara Barton’s mission. Many of her personal friends said it was impossible, but President Lincoln gave her encouragement. She also received her Commission from the President, who had published the following:
TO THE FRIENDS OF THE MISSING PRISONERS:
Miss Clara Barton has kindly offered to search for the missing prisoners of war. Please address her at Annapolis, Maryland, giving the name, regiment, and company, of any missing prisoner.
A. Lincoln.
For four long years she carried in her heart the sorrows of scores of thousands, in unhappy homes. She took the lecture platform and, in public halls, churches and school-houses, she said to the people “let’s talk of graves and worms and epitaphs.”
She had known Sorrow,—he had walked with her,
Oft supped, and broke the bitter ashen crust;
And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir
Of his black mantle trailing in the dust.
Few of the obscure dead had even head-boards at their graves. In the absence of head-boards, the information was obtained through an ex-federal prisoner, who had kept the necessary data. Tens of thousands of letters were exchanged. Through correspondence, private information, personal contact with friends of the missing, and an inspection in the cemetery, the remains of 19,920 of the missing were found, the remains sent home, or the grave marked. The whole expense of this work was about $17,000, the amount advanced by Miss Barton. Later, the Government reimbursed her to the extent of $15,000. So stupendous, so philanthropic, and so successful, was this work that this one mission of love, of itself, would have given Clara Barton eternal fame.
Sad wistful eyes and broken hearts that beat
For the loved sound of unreturning feet
And when the oaks their banners wave,
Dream of the battle and an unmarked grave!
Frank L. Stanton.
If all that has been said by orators and poets since the creation of the world in praise of women were applied to the women of America, it would not do them justice, for their conduct during the war. God bless the women of America. A. Lincoln.
I feel how weak and fruitless would be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming; but I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.
A. Lincoln (in his letter to Mrs. Bixby).
Mothers—wives—and maidens, would there were some testimonials grand enough for you—some tablet that could show to the world the sacrifice of American womanhood and American motherhood in the Civil War! Sacrifices so nobly and so firmly—but so gently and so beautifully,—made. Clara Barton.
In the crowded yards of every prison ground, in the dark ravines of the tangled forests, in the miry, poison swamps, where the slimy serpent crawls by day and the will-o’-the-wisp dances vigil at night, in the beds of the mighty rivers, under the waves of the salt sea, in the drifting sands of the desert islands, on the lonely picket line, and by the roadside, where the weary soldier laid down with his knapsack and his gun, and his march of life was ended; there in their strange beds they sleep till the morning of the great reveille.
Clara Barton.
To show the sentiment then existing among the people, and the appreciation of the services rendered,—of the thousands of letters received by Miss Barton are appended the following: