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

“Nothing I can say will be equal to my high appreciation of the character of the lady whose picture is now added to the treasures of this place. She is noble, the friend of all good people. Her portrait will take, and I hope will always hold in this house, an honored place. I have observed the significance which you have given to this portrait from the stand-point you occupy, and in connection with the work in which you are engaged. First, I approve most heartily what you have said in reference to the freedom of individual judgment and action, symbolized in this portrait. There are several sovereignties in this country. First, the sovereignty of the American people, then the sovereignty nearest to us all—the sovereignty of the family—the absolute right of each family to control its affairs in accordance with the conscience and convictions of duty of the heads of the family. In the picture before us that is bravely symbolized. I have no doubt the American people will always tenderly regard their household sovereignty, and however households may differ in their views and convictions, I believe that those differences will be respected. Each household, by following its own convictions, and holding itself responsible to God, will, I think, be respected by the American people. What you have said concerning the evils of intemperance, meets my most hearty concurrence. I have been, in my way, and in accordance with my own convictions, an earnest advocate of temperance, not in so narrow a sense as some, but in a very definite and practical sense. These convictions are deep, and will be maintained. Whether I shall be able to meet the views of all people in regard to all the phases of that question remains to be seen, but I shall do what I can to abate the great evils of intemperance. I shall be glad to have the picture upon these walls; I shall be glad to remember your kind expressions to me and my family; and in your efforts to better mankind by your work, I hope you will be guided by wisdom and that you will achieve a worthy success.”

President Hayes had left the new administration a heritage of hatred from the stalwart element of the Republican party. It was President Garfield’s chief wish, politically, to heal up the chasm which the past had opened, and not to recognize one faction more than another. Notwithstanding these purposes, the deadly breach which had yawned apart during the Hayes administration, was an ominous thing. The defeat of the Stalwarts at Chicago, by Garfield, naturally tended to transfer their hostility from the outgoing to the incoming President. For months before the inauguration, the embarrassment which threatened Garfield was foreseen by the country. On the one hand were the men who had nominated him in the Chicago Convention,—men who, risking every political prospect, rebelled from the command of their leaders, such as Conkling, Cameron, and Logan, and defeated Grant. To such, Garfield owed his nomination. On the other hand was the stalwart element, still bruised and sore from the defeat at Chicago. Yet they had entered heartily into the campaign. They had swallowed their chagrin, and outwardly, if not inwardly, submitted with good grace to their defeat, and wheeled into line of battle for the fall election. To these men, Garfield was largely indebted for his election. In his administration, how could he recognize either one of these elements without arousing the antagonism of the other? This was the riddle which he must solve.

The breach between the two was as deadly as ever. The Cabinet was a compromise, but the Grant men were afraid of it, with Blaine so near the throne.

For a few days after the inauguration, the surface of the sea was tolerably smooth; but acute political mariners prophesied rough weather. The two wings of the party in New York were waiting to fly at each other’s throats at the first opportunity. The balance of power between the two elements was the official patronage of the President. Into whose lap the plum was thrown, to that wing belonged the ascendancy.

Senator Conkling’s chief political purpose was to chastise the men who had deserted his standard at Chicago. This he could best accomplish by controlling the Federal patronage himself; but failing in that, his next object was to cause the patronage to be distributed to neutrals, thereby preventing it from becoming an element at all in the fight.

Senators Conkling, Logan, and Cameron, as well as Sherman and Blaine, were visitors at the White House, and left in pleasant humor. In the eyes of the country it seemed plain that Conkling had made the disposition of the New York patronage the price of his friendship to the new administration. Every body was on tiptoe to see what the President would do. On March 22d, he sent to the Senate, for confirmation, the names of Stewart L. Woodford, to be United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York, and Asa W. Tenney, for the Eastern District; Lewis F. Payne, to be United States Marshal, for the Southern, and Clinton D. McDougall, for the Northern District of New York, and John Tyler, to be Collector of Customs at Buffalo.

This move was interpreted by the country to mean a great victory for Conkling, and that the New York patronage was controlled by him. Other nominations, in Conkling’s supposed interest, were those of James in the Cabinet, and Morton, Minister to France.

But on the following day, President Garfield nominated, for Collector of the port of New York, William H. Robertson. In New York, and more or less throughout the country, this was a great surprise. But it was not an objectionable nomination. Then it was Robertson who headed the break in the New York delegation at Chicago. He had risked much; he had been very largely instrumental in nominating Garfield. Gratitude is a noble quality of human nature, and the President was a man of generous motives and impulses. The general expression from the country upon the Robertson nomination was one of approval. To disinterested people, far away from the heat and dust of the battle, it was, coupled with the nominations of the preceding day, plainly a declaration of an intention to recognize each branch of the party in New York. Weaker men would have recognized neither, giving the offices to neutrals, and pleasing nobody. Mere partisan men would have recognized one faction only. Garfield tried to recognize both. A deeper significance also lay in the Robertson nomination. Whether Garfield meant it or not, it was, in a sense, a declaration of independence. Garfield, with his lion-like courage, his intellectual powers, his moral greatness, could not, in fact or in appearance, allow his administration to be manipulated by outside influence. It was said that Mr. Blaine was the author of the Robertson nomination; that it was his revenge on Conkling. Garfield said repeatedly, even on the bed of pain, that it was his own in every sense, and that Blaine had not known that it was intended to be made.

Whatever President Garfield intended by the nomination of Robertson, Senator Conkling treated it as a declaration of war. In their views of what followed, men will differ. It is not for these pages, penned so soon in the darkness of an awful assassination, to do more than relate the facts, though it is impossible for a biographer of the dead to do other than sympathize with him. Senator Conkling said that Hayes had never done a thing so terrible. He said that the nomination of Robertson, the most objectionable man possible—without consultation with the Senators from New York, or without their being informed of the intention to make a change in the most important office in the State, was a grievous personal and political wrong. He said that the long dispute as to whether a small faction of New York Republicans, or four-fifths of the party in the State, as represented by him, were to be treated by the Administration as the Republican party of New York, had at last to be settled finally and forever.

The situation was one of intense interest. Popular opinion supported the President, though not a few took the side of Conkling. The latter, together with Platt, the junior Yew York Senator, resolved to fight the confirmation of Robertson. They believed that, with the Senate evenly balanced, they could, with the help of the Democrats, prevent Robertson’s confirmation. It was a battle of giants. Men wondered whether, when war was declared, Garfield would strike back or not. The Stalwarts offered only one way of compromise—the withdrawal of Robertson’s nomination. But the President was firm. Efforts were made to induce Robertson to ask the President to withdraw his name in the interest of harmony. But he scouted the idea. The State Senate of New York, of which Robertson was the presiding officer, passed a resolution in support of the Administration. On behalf of the President’s action it was claimed, that it was his constitutional right to nominate; that the New York Senators overstepped their prerogative in attacking his action; that the office of Collector of the Port was a national office, and not rightfully a part of the local patronage; that the Executive should select the man through whose hands passed nine-tenths of the tariff revenues of the country.