The Life and Work of James A. Garfield, Twentieth President of the United States / Embracing an Account of the Scenes and Incidents of His Boyhood; the Struggles of His Youth; the Might of His Early Manhood; His Valor As a Soldier; His Career As a Statesman; His Election to the Presidency; and the Tragic Story of His Death.

by John Clark Ridpath

Some subtle scheme of selfishness,—all this

Is what the orators and poets call

The crowning honor!

A candidate for public office has a difficult part to play. There is constant and imminent danger that he will commit some blunder, and thereby put himself on the defensive. The fear of doing or saying something which shall put a club into the hands of the enemy haunts both himself and his friends. He is obliged to stand for some months on a high platform in the market-place, saying to the whole world: “Now get out your microscopes and your telescopes; with the one examine me, and with the other examine the heavens of my past, and see if you can’t find something that shall make me wince—some tender spot which you may prod and make me cry out with pain.”

Notably does a candidate for the presidency suffer from exposure to this fierce light and heat. All summer long he must be scrutinized and assailed. All kinds of attack he must meet with equanimity. Every sort of missile he must face, from the keenest-barbed arrows of analysis and satire to the vulgarest discharges of mud. To be angered is a sign that he is hurt; to bear it without flinching is a sign of indifferent reprobacy; to do nothing at all is a sign of cowardice! Of a certainty the American people will see their man. They will hear him, if he can be tortured into opening his mouth. To all this we must add the diabolical ingenuity of that inquisitor-general of the ages, the “interviewer” of the public press—that wizen-faced mixture of gimlet, corkscrew, and blood-sucker, who squeezes in, and bores, and pumps, and then goes away with a bucket filled with the ichor of his own imagination. This he retails to the public as the very wine of truth!

All the dangers of the case considered, the candidate generally adopts the policy of mum. He becomes pro tempore a universal know-nothing. He has no ideas, no thoughts, no opinions. He has no political preferences. He has not heard the news from Europe. He does not know whether the Danubian provinces can compete with the American wheat-fields or not. He has never heard that there is an English market for American beef. He has never read a book. His family receive the newspapers; he does not read them. The grave problem as to whether the Mississippi runs by St. Louis he has not fully considered. The time of the year and the day of the week are open questions which he has not investigated. Such matters should be referred to the managers of the observatory and the bureau of statistics. Only on two things does he plant himself firmly; to wit, the Nicene Creed and the platform of his party!

How would General Garfield, now that he was nominated, bear himself before the country? Could one who had so long been accustomed to speaking out in meeting hold his peace, and assume the role of the typical know-nothing? The General seems not to have taken counsel with any body on this question, but simply to have made up his mind that the mum policy was pusillanimous, and that for himself he would continue to talk to his neighbors and friends and the general public just as usual. This was, according to the judgment of the trimmers, an alarming decision. Even thoughtful politicians were doubtful whether the outspoken, talking policy could be trusted. But General Garfield soon taught them and the country at large the useful lesson that a man can talk without being a fool. He began at once to converse freely on all proper occasions, to make little speeches to delegations of friends who came from all directions to pay their respects, and to abandon, both theoretically and practically, the monastic method of running for office.

But let us resume the narrative. In the evening after his nomination the General was called upon at the parlors of the Grand Pacific Hotel, and in the presence of a great company of ladies and gentlemen was formally notified of his nomination. Senator Hoar headed the committee appointed to carry the news to the nominee, and to receive, in due season, his response. The committee confronted General Garfield, and the distinguished chairman said:

“General Garfield: The gentlemen present are appointed by the National Republican Convention, representatives of every State in the Union, and have been directed to convey to you the formal ceremonial notice of your nomination as the Republican candidate for the office of President of the United States. It is known to you that the convention which has made this nomination assembled divided in opinion and in council in regard to the candidate. It may not be known to you with what unanimity of pleasure and of hopes the convention has received the result which it has reached. You represent not only the distinctive principles and opinion of the Republican party, but you represent also its unity; and in the name of every State in the Union represented on the committee, I convey to you the assurance of the cordial support of the Republican party of these States at the coming election.”

At the conclusion of Senator Hoar’s speech, General Garfield replied with great gravity and composure: