Three days after, William H. Robertson was confirmed Collector of the Port of New York, with scarcely a dissenting voice.
No more exciting and stormy experience ever fell to the lot of any Administration than that which marked the first seventy-five days of Garfield’s. The first days in the Presidential chair are full enough of embarrassment without a tremendous struggle with a powerful element of the incumbent’s own party. A new President feels that fifty millions of people are watching him critically. From the privacy of the citizen’s life, the new President passes into the most glaring sunlight. He is surrounded by hundreds of detectives and spies, and subjected to the most impudent scrutiny. Things which all his life have been sacredly private, the sweet affections of the fireside, care for parents, anxious consultations with the wife, training of the children, all suddenly become public property. The number of coats he wears, the size of his hat, the purchase of a new pair of gloves, the dresses of his wife, a walk or drive, attendance at church, all these things are spread before the eyes of the world in the most exaggerated and distorted form.
If a member of the Cabinet calls and remains in private consultation for two hours, the President is said to be the cat’s-paw of secretary so-and-so. If the same secretary calls again and remains but five minutes, it is reported that a disagreement has occurred, and the said secretary’s resignation will be demanded. If the President, worn out and disgusted with the besetments of office-seekers and the malignant attacks on his character, slips away from the cares of State for a day or two, he is said not to be earning his salary. If he does not take up with every whispered scandal, and call upon Congress for a committee of investigation, he is openly charged with corruption and a disposition to cover up frauds. If, on the other hand, he does ask for an investigation, he is said to be using his official power to injure his enemies. The strain, the worry, the insults, the outrages, the scrutiny, the misconstruction, which a new President has to undergo are enough for one human heart to bear. Add to this such an unparalleled battle as that into which Garfield was forced almost from his inauguration day, and one would think the burden hard to increase.
But this was not all he had to endure. In the midst of the storm, his wife, from whom he had so long drawn consolation and support, was stricken down with the most malignant form of typhoid fever. Dr. Boynton, her home physician, was hastily summoned from Ohio. But the sufferer grew worse. This was a calamity which no courage, no calm conservatism, no intellectual resources, no popular support, could remedy. Up to this time the President had kept heart bravely, but the mighty shadow which seemed about to darken his life forever, was too much for his great, loving soul. Hurrying away from the crowded office of State, he sought the sufferer, sat by her side hour after hour, denying himself necessary sleep, and nursed her with the most devoted care. Every day the papers told of the critical condition of the President’s wife, and it seemed that her death was an assured and grievous calamity. The people’s hearts swelled with sympathy for the suffering husband. Day after day the story of his silent watching at the bedside of the wife brought tears unbidden to the eye. But the calamity which seemed impending was turned aside. On the 20th of May, Dr. Boynton announced a slight change for the better, which proved permanent. Days and weeks were required before Mrs. Garfield could leave her bed, but the shadow gradually lifted.
On the same day that her improvement was announced, the Senate of the United States adjourned. The President had sustained himself. No man ever stood higher in the hearts of the people. After his victory, he had returned to the Senate all but one of the nominations of Mr. Conkling’s friends, which had been withdrawn in order to force action one way or the other upon Robertson’s name. As for Senators Conkling and Platt, after their resignations, they presented themselves to the New York Legislature, then in session, as candidates for reëlection. The story of the memorable struggle at Albany is beyond the scope of these pages. Vice-President Arthur, being so closely attached to Conkling, was, of course, completely out of harmony with the administration. He was attached, heartily and honestly, to the other side. At one time he said he would resign the Vice-Presidency if he thought it would benefit Mr. Conkling. But the calm level of popular opinion to which President Garfield was so fond of referring, was overwhelmingly with him. The prospect was, for the first time, comparatively bright. As the weeks passed, Mrs. Garfield grew steadily better. The President was wearied by the arduous duties of the past three months, and needed a vacation. A time or two, in early June, he took his children for an afternoon trip to Mount Vernon. His face grew brighter and his step more elastic. As the struggle at Albany proceeded, the Administration steadily rose in public esteem, until the admiration of the people knew no bounds. The President paid especial attention to his Departments. The Star Route cases were pushed with tremendous vigor. Irregularities in the Treasury and Naval Departments were dealt with most heroically. Altogether the sky was clear, and men looked forward to the future with confidence. Mrs. Garfield’s health being still precarious, the question of where to spend the summer was carefully and thoughtfully discussed.
On the 19th of June, the President and Mrs. Garfield, accompanied by their daughter Mollie, and their two sons, Irvin and Abram, Colonel Rockwell and Dr. Boynton and wife, left Washington for Long Branch.
The President, with a loving husband’s care, secured pleasant rooms in a quiet hotel for his wife, where she would get the full benefit of the sea breezes. On the 27th of June he returned to Washington to hold a cabinet meeting. The session was long, but characterized by great cordiality. The whole situation was gone over, and the President and his Cabinet separated for the summer, as they thought, with kindly hope and a multitude of good wishes for each other. The President was to return to Long Branch, meet his wife and family, and commence a carefully laid out summer trip, including a visit to Williams College. The journey to Long Branch was not taken till two months later, and the remainder of the trip never was and never will be taken.
THE GARFIELD FAMILY.