Dear Frances Willard:
Yes, I did get your letter telling me about the state of things in Mississippi and that all was lost there. I have no doubt but that it is the same the country through. It is hard and heavy and bitter; the shots of malice and detraction fall thick, but I must stand at the helm and steer my ship safely into port. The Treaty of Geneva must first be secured. I have but one passage to take it through and that is lined thick on every side with guns manned by the Society ladies of the Capital of the Nation. The Red Cross, a little stranger craft from a foreign land, bearing only the banner of peace and love, and her messages of world-wide mercy begging shelter and acceptance in our capacious harbor, has chosen me for her pilot to bring her in. Besides these guns that open upon her on all sides she runs against the chains which have so long held her out—fancied Government defenses of “Non-intervention,” “Self-isolation,” beware of “Entangling alliances,” “Washington’s Farewell Address,” “Monroe Doctrine,” apathy, inertia, general ignorance, national conceit, national distrust, a desire to retain the old-time barbarous privileges of privateering and piracy which we have hugged as a precious boon against every humane treaty since we began. All these my little ship has had to meet and breast and bear down, before this new and personal attack was opened upon her, so you see I cannot turn aside from my duties of a true pilot to contest a new foe. I must bring my ship through the natural dangers and anchor it safely in port, though it and I be riddled with shot. I have thrown over all extra weight, put on all sail, muzzled my guns, put my poor tired wounded crew to the pumps, nailed the little flag to the mast; and so you see us without other word or sign, plunging through the surf, breaking down chain after chain, through the fire and smoke, making for the shore. Never a messenger of mercy met a more inhospitable welcome, but the poor battered pilot has faith in the craft, and faith in God, and at no distant day, in spite of all, we shall throw out a sturdy old iron anchor to grapple with the reefs of the coast, and run up a little pennant beside the cross, “Treaty Ratified.” After this we shall be freed from our national disgrace, relieved from the charge and duties of safe conduct for our course, and then if there is call for arbitration we will be ready.
The success of her work along the Mississippi made it evident that she must continue the direction of the Red Cross. But that did not by any means convince her that she was to give up everything else and stay in Washington. She began to look for something else to do, and something that would take her far away from the seat of government.
She rather coveted than otherwise the opportunity to show without advertising the fact that she had other and visible means of support, and that her work for the Red Cross was not undertaken for lack of other employment. Moreover, it was expected that its organization would be kept simple, and its work done promptly in times of emergency. That was why almost immediately after the Red Cross had become an actual organization, and she had been constituted its official head by Presidential nomination and international appointment, and all the opposing organizations had withered and died, she was willing to accept a salaried position in work of another kind.
About this time she had a letter from Governor Butler of Massachusetts. He knew her well and had seen much of her work during the Civil War. Out of a clear sky came his invitation to her.
Commonwealth of Massachusetts
Executive Department
Boston, January 8, 1883
My dear Miss Barton:
There is a vacancy in the office of Superintendent of the Woman’s Reformatory Prison of Massachusetts. It wants a woman at once of executive ability and kind-heartedness, with an honest love of the work of reformation and care of her living fellow creatures. How would that suit you? The salary is not very large. It is $1500.00 a year and house and expenses of living. Please let me hear from you at your earliest convenience. I am,
Very truly yours