ADMINISTRATION OF JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD
_March 4, 1881, to September 19, 1881_
From a frontier log cabin in the wilderness to the White House was the
alpha and omega of James A. Garfield, whose brief régime lasted just
two hundred days.
The inauguration of James A. Garfield, twentieth President of the
United States, on March 4, 1881, was a great pageant, notwithstanding
the cold, dismal rain that followed the light snow of the night before.
By noon, the sun had come out bright and warm, and before the parade
was over, the streets were dry.
Escorted by twelve companies of regular artillery, six companies
of marines, and a like number of infantry, President Hayes and
President-elect Garfield rode together with the members of the Senate
Committee in a four-horse carriage, with the Columbia Commandery of
Knights Templar, of which General Garfield was a member, as a guard of
honour. An armed guard had been posted about the Capitol, and no one
without the proper credentials was admitted.
Mrs. Hayes escorted Mrs. Garfield and General Garfield’s aged mother, a
venerable white-haired lady, to the gallery seats reserved for them.
Following the installation of Mr. Arthur, the new Vice President, and
the new senators, the Senate was adjourned to witness the ceremony on
the East Portico. At the East Portico, the chair once used by General
Washington had again been placed in the centre of the raised stage.
General Garfield was shown to this as the seat of honour. Chief Justice
Waite administered the oath.
During the inaugural address, “Mother Garfield’s” undisguised pride and
delight in her son awakened the sympathetic appreciation of all who saw
her; she was the first mother ever to have the privilege of witnessing
her son sworn in as President of the United States.
General Garfield took the oath, given him by Chief Justice Waite, after
which, amidst the applause of the people, he kissed his mother and his
wife and was escorted to his carriage to return to the White House.
Mrs. Hayes had exercised the same courteous provisions for her
successor as had been extended to her by Mrs. Grant, and before the new
President reviewed the parade, the two families had lunch together.
Ex-President and Mrs. Hayes then departed for the home of Senator
Sherman, where they visited for a few days.
Since the Grand Review of 1865, Washington had not witnessed so
splendid a parade, one of such length and perfect formation as this at
the inauguration of James Garfield. It reflected great credit upon the
skill of General Sherman, who had arranged it. The ball that night,
too, was a fine affair, held in the new National Museum, fitted up
for the occasion. The new President and Mrs. Garfield arrived about
nine o’clock and were received by the Ball Committee, Judge Bancroft
escorting the President. Mrs. Garfield was gowned tastefully in light
lavender satin elaborately trimmed with point lace. A simple cluster
of purple pansies was worn at her neck. Her costume was remarked for
its simplicity and the absence of jewellery. Mrs. Hayes, who was with
her, was most charmingly gowned in a cream-coloured satin, trimmed with
ermine. The supper was elaborate. The menu for this event included
1,500 pounds of turkey, 100 gallons of oysters, 3,000 biscuits and
rolls, 50 hams, 200 gallons of chicken salad, 50 gallons of jelly, 250
gallons of coffee, 15,000 cakes, 250 gallons of ice cream, and 300
pounds of butter.
Garfield’s régime was so short that naturally interest in him must
centre more in what he was than in what he accomplished as President.
Born in Ohio on November 19, 1831, of pioneer parents, he experienced
through childhood and youth the same kind of struggle and hardship as
fell to the lot of many of our great men. Like many of them, too, he
was self-made.
When he was but eighteen months old, his mother was left, through the
death of his father, with four small children to bring up and a farm
to manage. She had literally to fill a man’s place. Mrs. Garfield
struggled and toiled heroically, and soon Jimmy, the baby, had the
chance to go to school in the summer; the winter term was not possible,
since he had no shoes or suitable clothing. Finally, Thomas, the
eldest, a child of twelve, the man of the family, secured a job with
a farmer to work fourteen hours a day for six dollars a month. Thomas
had one idea--that was that young Jimmy should be given a chance at
schooling, and when he came home with his first pay, his one request
was that his mother purchase shoes for Jimmy, so that the little
brother could attend the school in the little town.
As the lad grew into his teens, the boundaries of the farm grew too
restricted. Tales of travel and adventure had roused a responsive
thrill in his heart. At seventeen, therefore, although his mother
wanted him to continue his education and become a teacher, he set out
to make his fortune, after completing the strenuous job of chopping one
hundred cords of wood for twenty-five dollars for the ready cash. He
tied his belongings in a small bundle, slung them over his shoulder on
a stick, and started his tramp to find the end of the rainbow of his
ambition. By the time he reached Cleveland, tramping had lost some of
its glamour, especially as water and boats were at hand. His appeal for
a place on a lake steamer met with a curt and uncompromising refusal,
in which his inexperience was brought home to him.
Employment of some sort being a necessity, he spent several days
industriously seeking a job, and finally found one with a canal-boat
captain. For several months, for twelve dollars a month and board he
trudged the towpath along the canal his father had helped to build.
Young Garfield was ill with chills and fever for six months, and when
convalescent, realizing that he really desired schooling more than
anything else, to his mother’s delight, he entered the high school
at Chester, which held other attractions than the academic routine.
His childhood playmate, Lucretia Rudolph, daughter of Zeb Rudolph, of
Garretsville, one of the founders of Hiram College, was also a pupil.
By the time these two completed the high-school course, he had acquired
the distinction of height, six feet two inches, which was so much
admired when he entered public life. By this time, also, Lucretia had
assumed a definite place in his scheme of life. Aided and abetted by
his mother, she overcame his rather natural feeling that he could not
afford to give more time to the college course, to which he looked
so longingly. Feminine argument also had the support and backing of
the splendid loyal older brother, and Jimmy and Lucretia entered the
Western Reserve Electic Institute at Hiram, Ohio, later the Hiram
College. In vacations, he taught a district school for twelve dollars
a month and board. Graduation left a desire for further educational
experience, and Williams College, Massachusetts, was the objective.
During vacations, he taught school in Pownal, Vt., the school of which
Chester Alan Arthur had been principal the term previous. It was
there Garfield became a convert to the Campbellites, being baptized
in a tributary of the Chagrin River. His zeal for his new religious
affiliation sent him lecturing, teaching, and preaching wherever and
whenever opportunity offered.
With the completion of the course at Williams College, from which he
was graduated in 1856, where his son, Dr. Harry A. Garfield, is now
dean, he returned to take the Chair of Ancient Languages at Hiram
College.
His marriage to Lucretia Rudolph, his boyhood sweetheart, occurred in
1858, and within a year he was made President of the College, which
position he held until he entered the Civil War in 1861. Their lives
ran along in great happiness, owing to their congenial tastes. They
studied together and kept step in all matters of public and educational
interests. He preached, taught, and studied law, being admitted to the
bar in Cuyahoga County in 1860.
Seven children were born to them.
Upon offering his services at the opening of the Civil War, James
Garfield was commissioned Colonel of the Forty-second Ohio Volunteers.
For gallantry, he was made Brigadier General, the youngest man to
receive that rank. He served with distinction at Shiloh and at Corinth,
and in Alabama became Chief of Staff of the Army of the Cumberland.
At Chickamauga, he was made a Major General of volunteers, owing to
meritorious action. This honour had just been conferred when he learned
of the death of his infant daughter.
He resigned to enter Congress at the age of thirty-two, after a
conference with General Rosecrans, and served continuously until 1880.
When Mr. Blaine went to the Senate in 1876, Garfield became the
recognized leader of the Republican element in the House. In January,
1880, he himself was elected to the Senate.
In June of that year, the Republicans held their national convention,
when Grant’s name was suggested again. With his European popularity,
many admirers believed he would be sent to the White House on the crest
of another boom.
Other friends protested against his name being put up again. They
predicted defeat. At no time would he announce himself as sufficiently
receptive to the idea of a third term to authorize a statement. When
asked whether he would accept a nomination, he replied: “I will neither
accept nor decline an imaginary thing.” Later, however, he wrote:
“I owe so much to the Union men of the country that if they think
my chances are better for election than those of other probable
candidates, I cannot decline if the nomination is tendered without
seeking on my part.”
When the convention met, General Grant’s name was brought forward by
Roscoe Conkling. His chief opponent was Mr. Blaine. Roscoe Conkling was
a clever politician, with a gift of sarcasm which he was continually
abusing. He seldom tried to conciliate his opponent, and he deeply
hated Mr. Blaine. At the convention, Conkling’s words and manner were
arrogant and insolent to a degree. Taunts and insults came to his lips
so readily that he not merely deepened the hostility of the Blaine
men, but estranged the friends of other candidates, whom otherwise
he might, perhaps, have won over. But he was sure of at least three
hundred and six Grant delegates, and he seemed to feel that he could
bully the convention into giving him the seventy additional votes
needed for a clear majority. Nothing like Conkling’s conduct had ever
been seen at any national convention. He did not even confine himself
to verbal taunts, but once, at least, he rushed at an opposing delegate
who was speaking, and, seizing him by the shoulders, thrust him down
into his seat in spite of the jeers and hisses which came from every
quarter of the hall. A newspaper of the day gives the following account:
“Roscoe Conkling, in making the nominating speech for Grant, ranked
for real oratory with Robert Ingersoll, who nominated Blaine in 1876.
Conkling’s speech was spectacular, but, carried away by his strong
partisanship for Grant and intense hatred and bitterness toward
Blaine, he so lashed the Blaine followers as to make it impossible
ever to win a scattering vote for Grant, and his speech left that
chieftain weaker than before it was uttered.
“However, Grant’s memorable ‘306’ stood with him to the ultimate
finish. During thirty-six ballots he started with 304, never dropped
below 302, and never got more than 313, being defeated by the
avalanche to Garfield, with 306 delegates true to the bitter end.
“Garfield went to the convention as head of the Ohio delegation to
urge Senator John Sherman as candidate. Garfield was selected as a
compromise candidate when it became evident that Grant and Blaine were
in a deadlock. Wisconsin started the landslide. Grant’s following
for two months determinedly worked for the defeat of Garfield, until
Conkling had a conference with Grant, and then they swung around with
zealous support that barely carried Garfield into the White House.”
Chester Alan Arthur, a “Stalwart,” was elected as the running mate
of Garfield, a “Half-breed,” to appease the faction he represented.
Mr. Arthur was collector of the Port of New York at the time of his
election, this appointment having been conferred by President Grant.
President Garfield early made known his choice of James G. Blaine as
his Secretary of State. He listened to all suggestions for the other
Cabinet posts, but kept his own counsel concerning his appointments.
He understood that, but for the support given him by General Grant
and Conkling, he might have met defeat. Yet he chose to ignore hints,
requests, appeals, and demands of friends and party leaders, and chose
his Cabinet for some definite reasons which would undoubtedly have been
disclosed had his term not ended so tragically.
William Windom of Minnesota was chosen for Secretary of the Treasury;
Robert Lincoln, of Illinois, Secretary of War; William H. Hunt, of
Louisiana, Secretary of the Navy; Wayne McVeagh, of Pennsylvania,
Attorney General; Samuel J. Kirkwood, of Iowa, Secretary of the
Interior; and Thomas L. James, of New York, Postmaster General.
While some of the appointments he made created resentment from the
“Stalwarts,” particularly that of Blaine, antagonism blazed into open
rebellion when he selected for the important New York office, that
of Collector of the Port of New York, W. H. Robertson, who proved to
be a political enemy of Conkling and also of Thomas C. Platt, junior
senator. Both were so indignant and resentful that, when the man’s
nomination was followed by confirmation, and all the suggestions for
other New York offices were ignored by President Garfield, the two
Senators promptly resigned, with the idea that their reëlection by the
New York Legislature would speedily follow as a measure of approval.
The plan, however, did not work out as scheduled.
Although President Garfield was no stranger to Washington, his first
public appearance created widespread interest. He presided at the
unveiling of the statue of Admiral Farragut, the work of the little
sculptor, Vinnie Ream Hoxie, whose statue of Lincoln in the Capitol had
created such a sensation, being the work of a woman--a mere girl. For
the Farragut statue, Congress paid $25,000.
Vinnie Ream deserves a place in the American Hall of Fame since she
was one of the most talented women of her period. Her unusual life and
marked achievements in spite of limited opportunities should be an
inspiration to ambitious youth.
She was born in Wisconsin, near the site of Madison, in September,
1847, of pioneer parents. From Indian children playmates she learned
the Indian nature so beautifully expressed in her later model of
Sequoya, the last work of her hand, which, left unfinished, now stands
in Statuary Hall at the Capitol, having been completed by Julian Zolnay.
Her childhood in an isolated Kansas settlement was barren of
educational facilities save when a travelling teacher appeared to
establish classes for a few weeks while resting and preparing to
continue his travels. Her introduction to good poetry and music came
through such agencies. A guitar peddler with instruments, instruction
books, and the good will to teach all purchasers to play found a
willing pupil in the eleven-year-old Vinnie, whose father bought his
first instrument. Guitar sales flourished. The supply was exhausted,
but the little girl was the only one who mastered the teacher’s method
and was able to pick out tunes from the little book. This was the
beginning of a musical career in which, as composer and interpreter,
she was considered a genius in the year she was in college.
[Illustration: _Photos. by Brady_
MRS. JAMES A. GARFIELD]
The vicissitudes of fortune brought the Ream family to Washington
at the opening of the Civil War, and the little girl at the age of
thirteen had to become the mainstay for a time, filling a copyist’s
position in the Post Office at fifty dollars a month.
Her first visit to the studio of Clark Mills, the sculptor engaged to
make a bust of her for the Christian College of Missouri, where she had
been for a year a prize pupil, changed the objective of her life from
music to art. As she watched the artist reproducing her own features
in clay, the conviction burst upon her that she too could command her
fingers in such expression, and she exclaimed, “Oh, I know I could do
that!”
Amused at her girlish presumption, the artist handed her a bit of clay,
to try. In a few minutes, he was amazed to see a striking likeness
of himself taking form under her small fingers. Instantly, he and
those with him in the studio realized that this undersized girl of
thirteen was a genius of no mean order. Mills accordingly offered her
instruction, sending her home with some clay and a little statuette to
copy. The duplicate made in a few hours convinced her family that the
little girl had discovered her real life work.
As her work progressed and her skill developed, the Postmaster General
permitted her to complete her daily quota of work in the mornings so
that she might have the necessary afternoon light for her art.
A bust of President Lincoln modelled from memory brought her an
interview with him, and her story of her struggle to help her family
won his consent for her to come to the White House for sittings. For
five months this girl, now seventeen, made her daily trip to the
President’s office to make her sketches. Her last sitting was on the
day preceding his assassination. From her drawings, she made a bust of
such remarkable likeness that she was induced to enter the competition
for the statue of Lincoln for the Capitol for which Congress
appropriated $15,000, and won.
The contract was hers. She had won above the nation’s leading
sculptors. With her advance payment she established herself and her
parents in a studio in Rome to study and supervise the cutting of
the marble for the statue. Three years later, she returned to begin
the work in an empty committee room assigned to her use, under the
inspiration and criticism of Abraham Lincoln’s associates.
The completion and dedication brought her more honours and orders, and
the contract for the statue of Farragut also came to her as the winner
of the competition.
Although the Garfield administration was so brief, it was remembered
for the happy home life and domesticity a large and lively family of
youngsters gave to it, and also for the cultural qualities of the
President and his wife. Mrs. Garfield had devoted much of her time and
energies to the education and care of her four boys and her girl. Her
natural inclination was to prefer the home circle to many of the social
affairs.
“Grandma Garfield,” the President’s mother, made her home with them.
She was the treasured guest of the family and was given every deference
and courtesy that affection could suggest. She sat on the right of
her son and always was served first. His regard for her added to the
picture of happy home life that prevailed.
The formal state social functions were not scheduled until the
following winter season, but immediately after the inauguration Mrs.
Garfield gave four splendid receptions, which were largely attended.
Her husband called her “Crete,” a nickname from their schooldays, which
was an abbreviation of her rather formal name, Lucretia.
The President found the executive treadmill more absorbing and more
engrossing than any other task to which his hand had been set, and he
quickly found a need for relaxation that was not wholly met by his
literary tastes.
Immediately after settling his family, he had the billiard room
refitted and the table restored. Here, with his cigar and a little
coterie of close friends, he found much enjoyment. Frequent horseback
riding gave him the needed exercise.
President Garfield had so closely identified himself with church
and masonic organizations that people of the District of Columbia
regarded him as almost a Washingtonian. He, his wife, and his mother
were regular attendants at the little frame church of the Disciples
of Christ, better known as the Vermont Avenue Christian Church. Here
he frequently filled the pulpit, although he had never been ordained
to the ministry. After his death, when his assassin was on trial,
testimony was produced that indicated that Guiteau had followed the
President to church, as he had been seen looking in the windows. The
attendance of the President of the United States is always a great boon
to the church he selects. The present beautiful church is built on the
site occupied by the little frame building in which Garfield was so
interested, and is regarded as a memorial to him.
As a member of the Masonic fraternity, Garfield had greatly endeared
himself to the craft. At the time of his death he was a member of
Columbia commandery, Knights Templar, in which he was knighted in 1865.
He was undoubtedly the most active Mason locally that has ever filled
the presidential chair.
Though Garfield had chosen his Cabinet himself, without advice,
apparently he had not considered all of the contending influences
represented therein, since four months later, at the time he was
stricken by Guiteau’s bullet, it was on the verge of dissolution.
The President was noticeably buoyant in spirit on the morning of July
2, 1881, in bidding adieu to his office staff as he departed for the
railroad station, for he had planned a little trip that was to take him
to Williams College, his Alma Mater, and then to join his wife at Long
Branch for a longer trip with her and the older children.
Mrs. Garfield had come into the White House with a slight ailment that
clung to her through her anxiety over her husband’s party difficulties,
and as spring opened, this progressed and was increased through an
attack of malaria, the scourge of the White House families for many
years. After much medical consultation, she was sent to Long Branch
for the benefit of the sea air. This had proved beneficial and the
President had anticipated much pleasure from their projected trip.
President Garfield and Secretary Blaine were at the Pennsylvania
railroad depot, about to depart. They were passing through the ladies’
waiting room when two pistol shots rang out. Mr. Blaine immediately
turned and saw the President lurch forward and fall. A moment
afterward, the assassin, Charles J. Guiteau, was discovered and was
rescued with difficulty from the infuriated mob. A pistol of very heavy
calibre was wrenched out of his hand, and it became clear that a large
ball had entered the President’s body.
When in answer to eager questions, the physicians informed Garfield
that he had “one chance in a hundred” of living, he said calmly and
bravely: “Then, Doctor, we will take that chance.”
An ambulance was hastily called. The White House was notified. Harry,
his eldest son, rushed to the station and very gently the wounded man
was placed on a mattress and carefully lifted into the ambulance, his
son beside him. The President whispered: “Rockwell, I want you to
send a message to Crete. Tell her I am seriously hurt, how seriously
I cannot yet say. I am myself, and hope she will come to me soon. I
send my love to her.” Preceded by three mounted policemen and followed
by others to keep the crowd back, the wounded President was borne to
the White House. Such wild confusion as ensued can better be imagined
than described. Like wildfire the news spread over the city, and soon
the wires were flashing their terrible story to every city and town.
Once again the nation was plunged into horror and grief over the fate
that had befallen its head. Then followed days and weeks of prayerful
anxiety among the watchers at the bedside and the people of the nation.
General Corbin, assistant adjutant general, had immediately provided
a special train for Mrs. Garfield and Mollie. They returned to the
White House as fast as the train could bring them, living through such
agony and apprehension as can be appreciated only by those who have
been confronted with a similar experience. To her great relief, Mrs.
Garfield found her husband alive and able to talk with her, though
suffering intensely.
Hopes ran high for his recovery because of his splendid health and
strength, but soon it was apparent to the most optimistic that he would
not recover. Physicians conferred and disagreed over the case and its
diagnosis and treatment. Great authorities were consulted, but none
could make a suggestion that brought relief, and the suffering man
slipped farther down into the valley of the shadow. Into the minds of
all watchers soon came the conviction that life was just a matter of
days.
He expressed a desire to be taken where he could see the ocean, and
elaborate preparations were made to insure a journey to Elberon, N.
J., as comfortable for the sufferer as possible. Accordingly, on
September 6th, a mattress was placed on an express wagon, and the trip
to the station was made between daybreak and sunrise. In order to
avoid driving over the cobblestones, the railroad put a little stretch
of track from the station down to Pennsylvania Avenue and ran a car
throughout its length, so that the invalid might be lifted directly
from his mattress in the express wagon into the car. But even the sight
of the sea did not benefit him, and while every comfort was provided
for him at the cottage of O. G. Francklyn, he steadily failed. He died
on September 19, 1881.
While President Garfield thus lingered between life and death, an
important question arose as to the constitutional provision relating to
the “disability” of the President. On the part of the Vice President,
General Arthur, there was no move toward assuming the responsibilities
of the executive office. To the Vice President, the situation was
exceedingly trying, but he so conducted himself as to win universal
respect. His whole bearing, from the day of the crisis to the close of
the scene, was such as to indicate the profoundest sorrow and anxiety.
But, in other quarters, the President’s “disability” was eagerly
discussed. The question arose: Was President Garfield disabled in the
sense contemplated by the framers of the Constitution? Does that kind
of prostration of the bodily powers in which there is still a prospect
of recovery, which leaves the will free to act and the mental powers
unimpaired, really involve disability? While these questions were
much discussed, it was the universal public judgment that President
Garfield was not in fact “disabled” in the sense of the Constitution.
He continued to be the Chief Executive of the nation in fact as well
as in name; his Cabinet met from time to time; and not until the fatal
turn of affairs on September 19th, when the President breathed his last
at Elberon, was there an actual change in the administration.
A sad little group returned to Washington with the body of James
Abram Garfield. This consisted of Chester A. Arthur, who had become
President; General Grant, to whom the dead man owed deep obligations
for his valiant support in the campaign; also a delegation of the
Freemasons, and many important people. A hearse drawn by six white
horses conveyed the casket to the Capitol, where it lay in state
beneath the great dome, and where for two days a procession of
thousands of citizens filed past to take a last look upon the face of
another martyred President, whom they had come to love and admire.
After the family had taken their farewell, the funeral ceremonies
began. The military, with their flags shrouded, their arms reversed,
and their bands pouring forth a dirge, escorted the body to the same
station where the shooting had occurred, to be conveyed to Cleveland
for interment. The funeral party arrived at Cleveland on September
24th, and on the 26th the body of James A. Garfield was placed in
its final resting place, while the entire nation attended in spirit
and sympathy. During the funeral services, the sympathy of the world
was with the family. Bells tolled in all big cities, mourning was
displayed, and appropriate services were held throughout the country.
Party differences were forgotten or laid aside and criticism stilled in
the presence of death.
Secretary Blaine loved Garfield, and his oration at the funeral was an
evidence of this fact.
Guiteau, the assassin, had a sensational trial in the old City Hall.
This attracted a great deal of attention, particularly on the part of
the morbid curiosity-seekers who assembled daily to see the prisoner
go to and from the jail to the City Hall. He paid for his act with
his life. Although of good family, educated and clever, he had always
been queer--a religious fanatic, who took nothing in halfway fashion.
He was an extremist upon all things that interested him at all, and
after years of travel abroad, imbibing all sorts of radical ideas, he
came back with tendencies that found expression in opposition to all
regularity of action. He had followed President Garfield about, he
said, for weeks. Because of his political activity and his mad act, it
was alleged that the shooting was due to factional resentment over the
total eclipse of Conkling and Platt.
Guiteau’s sister and her husband, the latter reluctantly, at his wife’s
request, serving as the prisoner’s counsel, won the pity and respect of
everyone by their own demeanour.
Mrs. Garfield was just at her best when she came to the White House.
Just beginning her forties, she had a background of culture and
breeding from ancestry and education that made her a welcome addition
to the best circles, brief though her régime proved to be.
Although she was well known in Washington society during her husband’s
long service in Congress, when it became known that she was to be the
successor of Mrs. Hayes, public attention was centred upon her and
created a great demand for information about the incoming mistress of
the White House.
People who claimed intimacy with this family say that she was fully as
conversant with politics as her husband, and that he found in his wife
intelligent and understanding companionship; that it was she who aided
him in working out his political problems, and that is why he consulted
none of his party associates.
The General had this to say of Mrs. Garfield:
“I have been wonderfully blessed in the discretion of my wife. She
is one of the coolest and best-balanced women I ever saw. She is
unstampedable. There has not been one solitary instance of my public
career where I suffered in the smallest degree for any remark she ever
made. It would have been perfectly natural for a woman often to say
something that could be misinterpreted; but without any design, and
with the intelligence and coolness of her character, she has never
made the slightest mistake that I ever heard of. With the competition
that has been against me, many times such discretion has been a real
blessing.”
Mrs. Garfield survived her husband many years, living to see among
other memorials that bear his name a huge hospital in the Capitol City,
which must have held for her a peculiar appeal.