|HENRY DUNANT (1828-1910)|
"I had sought for something that would say in the fewest and most searing words that there was another side to the age of the Edwardians--the age whose downfall we are living through.
For that purpose I went back to the book ost of which I had translated just after my break with the Communist Party--Dunant, The Story of the Red Cross [by Martin Gumpert]. At the height of fame and wealth, [Henry] Dunant had gone bankrupt. He had lost everything. He was attacked and vilified. He disappeared almost from the face of the earth. But, now and again, someone would glimpse him, wandering a voluntary outcast in one of the great European cities, living in the slums, wearing ragged clothes and broken shoes, shunning alike men's kindness and their blindness. At last, even the memory of him all but vanished. Dunant was reported to be dead.
Years later, an enterprising journalist found him still living, a white-bearded recluse, in a hospice in the Swiss mountains. A pang of conscience smote the world (in those days it was still possible to speak of a public conscience). A Dunant fad set in. Admirers sought him out. He fled them. The penniless old man was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace. He gave it away.
One morning, in his whitewashed cell, Dunant was found dead. he had left a testament. It said: 'I wish to be carried to my grave like a dog without a single one of your ceremonies which I do not recognize....I am a disciple of Christ as in the first century, and nothing more.' "
--Whittaker Chambers, Witness
|POLISH SURVIVOR AND GERMAN RED CROSS WORKER. |
HANNOVER-AHLEM CONCENTRATION CAMP,