“Sensitive by nature, refined by culture, she has nevertheless taken unaccustomed fields of labor, walked untrodden paths with bleeding feet, and opened pioneer doors with bruised fingers, not for her own aggrandizement but for that of her sex and humanity.” Who wrote those immortal words about Clara Barton? She did.

Was this any way to build a permanent organization to pursue aims as noble as those set forth in the Red Cross treaty? Of course not. But the more she heard that complaint, the harder she dug in her heels. Eventually, the pressure grew so intense that at the age of eighty-three Barton was forced out of the American Red Cross itself, her own labor of love. She lived out her remaining years in bitterness.