was in fact pleased with her prospects under Lincoln. The new commissioner of patents, D. P. Holloway, seemed to have no objection to women in his office. On the contrary, rumors had it that he enjoyed their presence.16 Wilson, who had once told some prejudiced office seekers that he “supposed that it was the design of the Almighty that women should exist, or he never would have created them, although it is a scanty chance we give them,”17 was inclined to promote her interests simply because she was a woman. Instead of losing her precarious hold on a temporary clerkship, which was netting her only $35 to $61 per month, Barton had hopes that she would be given a permanent position and that her success would open the doors for other talented women. If this should happen, she told Elvira, “I had just as lief they made an experiment of me as not, you know it does not hurt me to pioneer.”18 Though the situation was far from settled, she sensed that she had beat the narrow prejudice of the government officials at last—indeed had beat them at their own game of spoils and patronage. With “all the influence of my State—personal at that” behind her, she wrote giddily that she “should like to see that little click reprove me in this matter—just let them try it will be fun—nuts, for me, I like it.”19
Her own future secured, Barton began concentrating on helping friends who were coping with similar problems with the government or the uncertainties of the times. There were many who were impressed with the tireless energy she had at this time for the problems and sorrows of friends, acquaintances, and relatives. One admirer recalled that he
rarely saw her without some pet scheme of benevolence on her hands which she pursued with an enthusiasm that was quite heroic and sometimes amusing. The roll of those she has helped, or tried to help, with her purse, her personal influence or her counsels, would be a long one; orphan children, deserted wives, destitute women, sick or unsuccessful relatives, men who had failed in business—all who were in want, or in trouble, and could claim the slightest acquaintance came to her for aid and were never repulsed. Strange it was to see this generous girl, whose own hands ministered to all her wants, always giving to those around her, instead of receiving, strengthening the hands and directing the steps of so many who would have seemed better calculated to help her.20
She had not lost sight of her concerns for Mattie Poor and Irving Vassall, but their situations seemed in abeyance for the time being. More pressing now was a crisis for Elvira Stone, which brought to the fore all of Barton's anger at injustices to her sex. Since 1857 Stone had been postmistress of North Oxford, a political appointment that became vulnerable when the new administration took office. More than one gentleman in the town had his eye on Elvira's sinecure, which involved little work but brought in a significant revenue. When Elvira wrote of her worries, Barton acted quickly to inform Senators Wilson and Sumner that the pretext for which Stone might be removed had little to do with politics and everything to do with sex. Tempted to draw up a petition that began “Mankind being naturally prone to selfishness we hereby…,” Clara settled for reporting to Sumner and Wilson that she had been able to find no complaint against Stone's performance “except that she is guilty of being a woman.”21 With the aid of the two senators and some timely petitions from North Oxford's citizens, Stone's appointment was eventually secured. Triumphant against the “forces of blind prejudice and ignorance” that so annoyed her, Barton felt a modicum of satisfaction with her own abilities to overcome society's narrow standards. But the incident reinforced her awareness, too, of the disadvantage that even talented and willing women faced in male-dominated society; it glued one more rung in the ladder that would lead her to an active role as a feminist leader, bent on sweeping reform in government policies.22
Success in these matters, an outlet for her work-hungry mind, and cheerful diversion at plays and levees made her confidence again unshakable. A handsome new companion in the Patent Office, R. O. Sidney, amused her with his stories of the South and an obvious admiration. Once there was an end to the dependence, the boredom, and the uncertainty of the previous six months, the despondency vanished. She felt ready to face anything. In all too short a time she would be surrounded by an emergency that would require all of her powers.23
Fort Sumter was fired upon and captured by Southern rebels on a Friday. It was April 12, a memorable day when vague dreams, which pictured two peaceful nations existing side by side or the ultimate peaceful submission of the South, were shattered. The president was alarmed at the defenselessness of the capital and called for a force of seventy-five thousand volunteers to protect it from the rebels across the Potomac. Militiamen, and companies based on neighborhood groups and local associations, quickly heeded the call. Clara, as quick to rally as any volunteer, felt sure the Union would win. “She was confident, even enthusiastic,” marveled a friend. If Sumter truly meant war, she would embrace the fray with all of her resources. “For herself, she had saved a little in time of peace, and she intended to devote it and herself to the service of her country, and of humanity. If war must be she neither expected nor desired to come out of it with a dollar.”24
Barton was pleased that men from Worcester County mirrored her own enthusiasm. Among the earliest troops to muster in and board a train, amid cheers and tears and fluttering handkerchiefs, was the Sixth Hubbell s Regiment. Many of them were fresh-faced farm boys who had never before left their native New England, and nearly forty had once been Barton's pupils. Only four days after the firing on Fort Sumter, the Sixth Hubbell s left Worcester. On April 19 they arrived in Baltimore.
Baltimore's citizens were overwhelmingly secessionist in spirit. It was they who had threatened the safety of the president-elect, and they saw both insult and opportunity in the parade of Union soldiers about to pass through their city. The trains from the North would not merely stop at the station or chug slowly by the brick row houses with distinctive marble stoops. The configuration of railroad tracks and stations was such that passengers were forced to alight, find transportation to another platform some half mile distant, and wait for the arrival of the cars, which were being drawn by mules along a precarious piece of track. The soldiers would have to leave the protection of the cars and march through the streets of the city in full view of the hostile Baltimoreans.25
On April 19 exaggerated gossip proved true and worst fears were realized. The officers in charge of the Hubbell s men had ordered them to endure whatever the Baltimore mobs hurled at them—insults, profanities, or bricks—unless they were actually fired on. With raw troops and an angry crowd, however, there was little hope for restraint. Three men were killed and thirty wounded from the regiment that day—the war's first casualties. In Baltimore the rebellious mood was heightened, as defiance or determination grew stronger in every breast.26
In Washington, news of the attack flashed across the telegraph wires, and crowds began to form in the street. Barton, hearing the noise, joined the throng and was “thrilled and bewildered” to hear of the atrocities in Baltimore.27 Her sister (who had returned to Washington with Irving) was with her; together they were swept up in the current that flowed toward the depot of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Southern partisans predominated in the tumultuous crowd, jeering and shouting congratulatory slogans. By the time she and Sally reached the station, Clara was so “indignant, excited, alarmed” that she determined to render any aid possible to the weary and wounded men.28
The city was unprepared for the arrival of so many soldiers, let alone wounded and frightened raw recruits. Hasty quarters had been arranged in, among other inappropriate places, the Senate chamber, There were no hospitals or even barracks, and Barton filled this immediate need by bringing the most severely wounded to Sally Vassall's house. From the patients there she learned that the men's luggage had been seized in Baltimore and that many had “nothing but their heavy woolen clothes—not a cotton shirt and many of them not even a pocket handkerchief.”29 Hearing also that no rations had been issued them, Barton hastily set to work to alleviate the problems as best she could. The next morning, ignoring the fact that it was Sunday, she rose early to persuade neighboring grocers to sell her as many provisions as they would, hired a train of Negro servants, and proceeded
