funeral car, and conveyed to Albany, where it lay in state at the
Capitol. At midnight dirges were sung, while eager multitudes passed by
looking upon the face of the dead. Arriving in New York, the casket was
laid in the midst of exquisite flowers in the City Hall. On this very
day memorial services were held in Westminster Abbey, Canon Farrar
delivering an eloquent address.
During the first night at the City Hall, about fifteen thousand persons
passed the coffin, and the next day ninety thousand; rich and poor,
black and white; men, women, and little children. A man on crutches
hobbled past the casket, bowed with grief. "Move on," said one of the
guards of honor. "Yes," replied the old man, "as well as I can I will. I
left this leg in the Wilderness." An aged woman wept as she said, "Oh!
general, I gave you my husband, my sons, and my son's beautiful boys."
On August 8, General Grant was laid in his tomb at Riverside Park, on
the Hudson River, a million people joining in the sad funeral
ceremonies. The catafalque, with its black horses led by colored grooms,
moved up the street, followed by a procession four miles long. When the
tomb was reached, the casket, placed in a cedar covering, leaden lined,
was again enclosed in a great steel casket, round like an immense
boiler, weighing thirty-eight hundred pounds. The only touching memento
left upon the coffin was a wreath of oak-leaves wrought together by his
grandchild Julia, on his dying day, with the words, "To Grandpa." Guns
were fired, and cannon reverberated through the valley, as the
pall-bearers, Confederate and Union generals, turned their footsteps
away from the resting-place of their great leader. It was fitting that
North and South should unite in his burial. Here, too, will sometime be
laid his wife, for before his death he exacted a promise from his oldest
son: "Wherever I am buried, promise me that your mother shall be buried
by my side." Already she has received over three hundred thousand
dollars in royalty on the memoirs which he wrote in those last months of
agony. Beautifully wrote Richard Watson Gilder:--
"All's over now; here let our captain rest,--
The conflict ended, past men's praise and blame;
Here let him rest, alone with his great fame,--
Here in the city's heart he loved the best,
And where our sons his tomb may see
To make them brave as he:--
"As brave as he,--he on whose iron arm
Our Greatest leaned, our gentlest and most wise,--
Leaned when all other help seemed mocking lies,
While this one soldier checked the tide of harm,
And they together saved the State,
And made it free and great."
[Illustration: Signature J. A. Garfield]
JAMES A. GARFIELD.
Not far from where I write is a tall gray stone monument, in the form of
a circular tower, lined with various polished marbles, and exquisite
stained-glass windows. It stands on a hill-top in the centre of three
acres of green lawn, looking out upon blue Lake Erie and the busy city
of Cleveland, Ohio.
Within this tower rests the body of one whom the nation honors, and will
honor in all time to come; one who was nurtured in the wilderness that
he might have a sweet, natural boyhood; who studied in the school of
poverty that he might sympathize with the sons of toil; who grew to an
ideal manhood, that other American boys might learn the lessons of a
grand life, and profit by them.
In the little town of Orange, Ohio, James Abram Garfield was born,
November 19, 1831. The home into which he came was a log cabin, twenty
by thirty feet, made of unhewn logs, laid one upon another, to the
height of twelve feet or more, the space between the logs being filled
with clay or mud. Three other children were in this home in the forest
already; Mehetabel, Thomas, and Mary.
Abram, the father, descended from Revolutionary ancestors, was a
strong-bodied, strong-brained man, who moved from Worcester, Otsego
County, New York, to test his fortune in the wilderness. In his boyhood,
he had played with Eliza Ballou, descended from Maturin Ballou, a
Huguenot, from France. She also at fourteen moved with her family from
New Hampshire, into the Ohio wilderness. Abram was more attracted to
Ohio for that reason. They renewed the affection of their childhood, and
were married February 3, 1821, settling first in Newburg, near
Cleveland, and later buying eighty acres in Orange, at two dollars an
acre. Here their four children were born, seven miles from any other
cabin.
When the boy James was eighteen months old, a shadow settled over the
home in the woods. A fire broke out in the forest, threatening to sweep
away the Garfield cabin. For two hours one hot July day the father
fought the flames, took a severe cold, and died suddenly, saying to his
wife, "I have planted four saplings in these woods; I must now leave
them to your care." He had kept his precious ones from being homeless,
only to leave them fatherless. Who would have thought then that one of
these saplings would grow into a mighty tree, admired by all the world?
In a corner of the wheat-field, in a plain box, the young husband was
buried. What should the mother do with her helpless flock? "Give them
away," said some of the relatives, or "bind them out in far-away homes."
"No," said the brave mother, and put her woman's hands to heavy work.
She helped her boy Thomas, then nine years old, to split rails and fence
in the wheat-field. She corded the wool of her sheep, wove the cloth,
and made garments for her children. She sold enough land to pay off the
mortgage, because she could not bear to be in debt, and then she and
Mehetabel and Thomas ploughed and planted, and waited in faith and hope
till the harvest came. When the food grew meagre she sang to her helpful
children, and looked ever toward brighter days. And such days usually
come to those who look for them.
It was not enough to widow Garfield that her children were decently
clothed and fed in this isolated home. They must be educated; but how? A
log school-house was finally erected, she wisely giving a corner of her
farm for the site. The scholars sat on split logs for benches, and
learned to read and write and spell as best they could from their
ordinary teaching. James was now nearly three, and went and sat all day
on the hard benches with the rest.
But a school-house was not sufficient for these New England pioneers;
they must have a church building where they could worship. Mrs. Garfield
loved her Bible, and had taught her children daily, so that James even
knew its stories by heart, and many of its chapters. A church was
therefore organized in the log school-house, and now they could work
happily, year after year, wondering perchance what the future would
bring.
James began to show great fondness for reading. As he lay on the cabin
floor, by the big fireplace, he read by its light his "English Reader,"
"Robinson Crusoe" again and again, and, later, when he was twelve,
"Josephus," and "Goodrich's History of the United States." He had worked
on the farm for years; now he must earn some money for his mother by
work for the neighbors. He had helped his brother Thomas in enlarging
the house, and was sure that he could be a carpenter.
Going to a Mr. Trent, he asked for work.
"There is a pile of boards that I want planed," said the man, "and I
will pay you one cent a board for planing."
James began at once, and at the end of a long day, to the amazement of
Mr. Trent, he had planed one hundred boards, each over twelve feet long,
and proudly carried home one dollar to his mother. After this he helped
to build a barn and a shed for a potashery establishment for leeching
ashes. The manufacturer of the "black-salts" seemed to take a fancy to
the lad, and offered him work at nine dollars a month and his board,
which James accepted. In the evenings he studied arithmetic and read
books about the sea. This arrangement might have continued for some time
had not the daughter of the salt-maker remarked one evening to her
beau, as they sat in the room where James was reading, "I should think
it was time for _hired servants_ to be abed."
James had not realized how the presence of a third party is apt to
restrain the confidential conversation of lovers. He was hurt and
angered by the words, and the next day gave up his work, and went home
to his mother, to receive her sympathy and find employment elsewhere.
Doubtless he was more careful, all his life, from this circumstance,
lest he wound the feelings of others.
Soon after this he heard that his uncle in Newburg was hiring
wood-choppers. He immediately went to see him, and agreed to cut one
hundred cords of wood, at twenty-five cents a cord. It was a man's work,
but the boy of sixteen determined to do as much as a man. Each day he
cut two cords, and at last carried twenty-five dollars to his mother; a
small fortune, it seemed to the earnest boy.
While he chopped wood he looked out wistfully upon Lake Erie, recalled
the sea stories which he had read, and longed more than ever to become a
sailor. The Orange woods were growing too cramped for him. He was
restless and eager for a broader life. It was the unrest of ambition,
which voiced itself twenty years later in an address at Washington, D.
C., to young men. "Occasion cannot make spurs, young men. If you expect
to wear spurs, you must win them. If you wish to use them, you must
buckle them to your own heels before you go into the fight. Any success
you may achieve is not worth the having unless you fight for it.
Whatever you win in life you must conquer by your own efforts; and then
it is yours--a part of yourself.... Let not poverty stand as an obstacle
in your way. Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can testify; but nine times
out of ten the best thing that can happen to a young man is to be tossed
overboard, and compelled to sink or swim for himself. In all my
acquaintance I have never known one to be drowned who was worth
saving.... To a young man who has in himself the magnificent
possibilities of life, it is not fitting that he should be permanently
commanded; he should be a commander. You must not continue to be
employed; you must be an _employer_. You must be promoted from the ranks
to a command. There is something, young men, that you can command; go
and find it, and command it. You can at least command a horse and dray,
can be generalissimo of them and may carve out a fortune with them."
Mrs. Garfield, with her mother's heart, deprecated a life at sea for her
boy, and tried to dissuade him. Through the summer he worked in the
hay-field, and then, the sea-fever returning, his mother wisely
suggested that he seek employment on Lake Erie and see if he liked the
life.
With his clothing wrapped in a bundle, he walked seventeen miles to
Cleveland, with glowing visions of being a sailor. Reaching the wharf,
he went on board a schooner, and asked for work. A drunken captain met
him with oaths, and ordered him off the boat. The first phase of sea
life had been different from what he had read in the books, and he
turned away somewhat disheartened.
However, he soon met a cousin, who gave him the opportunity of driving
mules for a canal boat. To walk beside slow mules was somewhat prosaic,
as compared with climbing masts in a storm, but he accepted the
position, receiving ten dollars a month and his board. Says William M.
Thayer, in his "From Log-Cabin to the White House": "James appeared to
possess a singular affinity for the water. He fell into the water
fourteen times during the two or three months he served on the canal
boat. It was not because he was so clumsy that he could not keep right
side up, nor because he did not understand the business; rather, we
think, it arose from his thorough devotion to his work. He gave more
attention to the labor in hand than he did to his own safety. He was one
who never thought of himself when he was serving another. He thought
only of what he had in hand to do. His application was intense, and his
perseverance royal."
After a few weeks he contracted fever and ague, and went home to be
cared for by his mother, through nearly five months of illness. The
sea-fever had somewhat abated. Could he not go to school again? urged
the mother. Thomas and she could give him seventeen dollars; not much,
to be sure, for some people, but much for the widow and her son.
At last he decided to go to Geauga Seminary, at Chester; a decision
which took him to the presidential chair. March 5, 1849, when he was
eighteen, James and his cousins started on foot for Chester, carrying
their housekeeping utensils, plates, knives and forks, kettle, and the
like; for they must board themselves. A small room was hired for a
pittance, four boys rooming together.
The seventeen dollars soon melted away, and James found work in a
carpenter's shop, where he labored nights and mornings, and every
Saturday. Though especially fond of athletic games, he had no time for
these. The school library contained one hundred and fifty volumes; a
perfect mine of knowledge it seemed to the youth from Orange. He read
eagerly biography and history; joined the debating society, where,
despite his awkward manners and poor clothes, his eloquence soon
attracted attention; went home to see his mother at the end of the first
term, happy and courageous, and returned with ninepence in his pocket,
to renew the struggle for an education. The first Sunday, at church, he
put this ninepence into the contribution box, probably feeling no poorer
than before.
While at Chester, the early teaching of his mother bore fruit, in his
becoming a Christian, and joining the sect called "Disciples." "Of
course," said Garfield, years later, "that settled canal, and lake, and
sea, and everything." A new life had begun--a life devoted to the
highest endeavor.
Each winter, while at Chester, he taught a district school, winning the
love of the pupils by his enthusiasm and warm heart, and inciting them
to study from his love of books. He played with them as though a boy
like themselves, as he was, in reality, and yet demanded and received
perfect obedience. He "boarded around," as was the custom, and thus
learned more concerning both parents and pupils than was always
desirable, probably; but in every house he tried to stimulate all to
increased intelligence.
During his last term at the seminary, he met a graduate of a New England
college, who urged that he also attend college; told how often men had
worked their way through successfully, and had come to prominence. Young
Garfield at once began to study Latin and Greek, and at twenty years of
age presented himself at Hiram College, Ohio, a small institution at
that time, which had been started by the "Disciples." He sought the
principal, and asked to ring the bell and sweep the floors to help pay
his expenses. He took a room with four other students, not a wise plan,
except for one who has will enough to study whether his companions work
or play, and rose at five in the morning, to ring his bell.
A lady who attended the college thus writes of him: "I can see him even
now, standing in the morning with his hand on the bell-rope, ready to
give the signal calling teachers and scholars to engage in the duties of
the day. As we passed by, entering the school-room, he had a cheerful
word for every one. He was probably the most popular person in the
institution. He was always good-natured, fond of conversation, and very
entertaining. He was witty and quick at repartee, but his jokes, though
brilliant and sparkling, were always harmless, and he never would
willingly hurt another's feelings.
"Afterward, he became an assistant teacher, and while pursuing his
classical studies, preparatory to his college course, he taught the
English branches. He was a most entertaining teacher,--ready with
illustrations, and possessing in a marked degree the power of exciting
the interest of the scholars, and afterward making clear to them the
lessons. In the arithmetic class there were ninety pupils, and I cannot
remember a time when there was any flagging in the interest. There were
never any cases of unruly conduct, or a disposition to shirk. With
scholars who were slow of comprehension, or to whom recitations were a
burden on account of their modest or retiring dispositions, he was
specially attentive, and by encouraging words and gentle assistance
would manage to put all at their ease, and awaken in them a confidence
in themselves.... He was a constant attendant at the regular meetings
for prayer, and his vigorous exhortations and apt remarks upon the
Bible-lessons were impressive and interesting. There was a cordiality in
his disposition which won quickly the favor and esteem of others. He had
a happy habit of shaking hands, and would give a hearty grip which
betokened a kind-hearted feeling for all....
"One of his gifts was that of mezzotint drawing, and he gave instruction
in this branch. I was one of his pupils in this, and have now the
picture of a cross upon which he did some shading and put on the
finishing touches. Upon the margin is written, in the hand of the noted
teacher, his own name and his pupil's. There are also two other
drawings, one of a large European bird on the bough of a tree, and the
other a church-yard scene in winter, done by him at that time. In those
days the faculty and pupils were wont to call him 'the second Webster,'
and the remark was common, 'He will fill the White House yet.' In the
Lyceum, he early took rank far above the others as a speaker and
debater.
"During the month of June the entire school went in carriages to their
annual grove meeting at Randolph, some twenty-five miles away. On this
trip he was the life of the party, occasionally bursting out in an
eloquent strain at the sight of a bird or a trailing vine, or a
venerable giant of the forest. He would repeat poetry by the hour,
having a very retentive memory."
The college library contained about two thousand volumes, and here
Garfield read systematically and topically, a habit which continued
through life, and made him master of every subject which he touched.
Tennyson's poetry became, like the Bible, his daily study.
Mr. J. M. Bundy, in his Life of Garfield, said, years later, "His house
at Washington is a workshop, in which the tools are always kept within
immediate reach. Although books overrun his house from top to bottom,
his library contains the working material on which he mainly depends.
And the amount of material is enormous. Large numbers of scrap-books
that have been accumulating for over twenty years in number and
value--made up with an eye to what either is or may become useful, which
would render the collection of priceless value to the library of any
first-class newspaper establishment--are so perfectly arranged and
indexed that their owner, with his all-retentive memory, can turn in a
moment to the facts that may be needed for almost any conceivable
emergency in debate. These are supplemented by diaries that preserve
Garfield's multifarious, political, scientific, literary, and religious
inquiries, studies, and readings. And, to make the machinery of rapid
work complete, he has a large box, containing sixty-three different
drawers, each properly labelled, in which he places newspaper cuttings,
documents, and slips of paper, and from which he can pull out what he
wants as easily as an organist can play on the stops of his instrument."
In Hiram College he formed an intellectual friendship with a
fellow-student to whose inspiring help he testified gratefully to the
end of his life; Miss Almeda A. Booth, eight years his senior, a
brilliant and noble woman, pledged to "virgin widowhood" by the death of
the young man to whom she was promised in marriage. Twenty years later,
Garfield said, in a memorial address at Hiram College, "On my own behalf
I take this occasion to say that for her generous and powerful aid, so
often and so efficiently rendered, for her quick and never failing
sympathy, and for her intelligent, unselfish, and unswerving friendship,
I owe her a debt of gratitude and affection for the payment of which the
longest term of life would have been too short.... I remember that she
and I were members of the class that began Xenophon's 'Anabasis' in the
fall of 1852. Near the close of that term I also began to teach in the
Eclectic [College], and, thereafter, like her, could keep up my studies
only outside of my own class hours. In mathematics and the physical
sciences I was far behind her; but we were nearly at the same place in
Greek and Latin, each having studied them about three terms. She had
made her home at President Hayden's almost from the first; and I became
a member of his family at the beginning of the winter term of 1852-53.
Thereafter, for nearly two years, she and I studied together, and
recited in the same classes (frequently without other associates) till
we had nearly completed the classical course....
"During the fall of 1853 she read one hundred pages of Herodotus, and
about the same of Livy. During that term, also, Professors Dunshee and
Hull, Miss Booth, and I met at her room two evenings of each week to
make a joint translation of the Book of Romans. Professor Dunshee
contributed his studies of the German commentators De Wette and Tholuck;
and each of the translators made some special study for each meeting.
How nearly we completed the translation I do not remember; but I do
remember that the contributions and criticisms of Miss Booth were
remarkable for suggestiveness and sound judgment. Our work was more
thorough than rapid, for I find this entry in my diary for December 15,
1853: 'Translation Society sat three hours at Miss Booth's room, and
agreed upon the translation of nine verses.'
"During the winter term of 1853-54 she continued to read Livy, and also
the whole of Demosthenes 'On the Crown.' During the spring term of 1854
she read the 'Germania' and 'Agricola' of Tacitus and a portion of
Hesiod."
To Garfield she was another Margaret Fuller. "I venture to assert that
in native powers of mind, in thoroughness and breadth of scholarship, in
womanly sweetness of spirit, and in the quantity and quality of
effective, unselfish work done, she has not been excelled by any
American woman.... I can name twenty or thirty books which will forever
be doubly precious to me because they were read and discussed in company
with her.... She was always ready to aid any friend with her best
efforts. When I was in the hurry of preparing for a debate with Mr.
Denton, in 1858, she read not less than eight or ten volumes, and made
admirable notes for me on those points which related to the topics of
discussion. In the autumn of 1859 she read a large portion of
Blackstone's 'Commentaries,' and enjoyed with keenest relish the
strength of the author's thought and the beauty of his style. From the
rich stores of her knowledge she gave with unselfish generosity. The
foremost students had no mannish pride that made them hesitate to ask
her assistance and counsel. In preparing their orations and debates they
eagerly sought her suggestions and criticisms....
"It is quite probable that John Stuart Mill has exaggerated the extent
to which his own mind and works were influenced by Harriet Mill. I
should reject his opinion on that subject, as a delusion, did I not know
from my own experience, as well as that of hundreds of Hiram students,
how great a power Miss Booth exercised over the culture and opinions of
her friends."
The influence of such a woman upon an intellectual young man can
scarcely be estimated, or over-estimated. The world is richer and nobler
for such women. Garfield never forgot her influence. The year he died,
he said at a Williams College banquet held in Cleveland, January 10,
1881: "I am glad to say, reverently, in the presence of the many ladies
here to-night, that I owe to a woman, who has long since been asleep,
perhaps a higher debt intellectually than I owe to any one else. After
that comes my debt to Williams College."
He used to say, "Give me a log hut with only a simple bench, Mark
Hopkins on one end and I on the other, and you may have all the
buildings, apparatus, and libraries without him."