CHAPTER V
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.
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.