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

JAMES R. GARFIELD.

At 4:35 P. M. the cortege reached Washington City. As the train came into the dépôt, there was a hush among the throng, and then every head was uncovered. The scene that followed was impressive in the extreme. Mrs. Garfield, heavily veiled and dressed in deep mourning, alighted, leaning on the arm of Secretary Blaine on the one side, and supported by her son Harry on the other. Members of the Cabinet followed, and among them towered the form of President Arthur, on whose face was written the various emotions which must have struggled within him as he was welcomed by the sad and silent thousands of the people of Washington. This party was followed by the pall-bearers, consisting of trained artillery sergeants. As the cortege reached Sixth Street, where the military was massed, the Marine Band began slowly to play “Nearer, my God, to Thee.” As the notes of this beautiful melody filled the air all heads were bowed in reverence, and even the rabble in the streets was awed into silence.

The scene at the east front of the Capitol was an imposing one. The wide plateau was filled with the various military organizations in bright uniforms, conspicuous among which were the marines. The General and staff officers of the Army and the officers of the Navy formed in two lines leading to the foot of the broad marble steps on the east front, standing on which President Garfield had delivered his inaugural address. Directly in front was the hearse, drawn by six magnificent gray horses. At the foot of the steps stood the officers of the Senate and of the House, and the Reception Committee. When the band had played a dirge, the pall-bearers advanced, followed by the President, Cabinet, Justices of the Supreme Court, Senators and Representatives, and filed slowly and sadly up a pathway which had been kept open in the middle of the broad flight of stairs, the sides being densely packed with people who had crowded in to see this part of the pageant.

On reaching the center of the vast rotunda, the casket was placed on the catafalque which had been prepared for it, and then the President and the Cabinet, together with General Grant, the Senators and the Representatives, stood for a moment in silence. Then a panel covering the face of the dead President was removed, and they looked for the last time upon the wasted features of him who so lately was chief of the Nation, and then solemnly moved away. The sight of the face of the dead President was indeed terrible, and upon most who saw it an impression was left which time can never efface. It was pinched and haggard to the last extreme; the skin yellow and glistening; the eyes sunken, and the lips tightly drawn. The nose looked unnaturally long, sharp, and hooked; and altogether there was but the slightest resemblance to the heroic form and face of him who had been James A. Garfield.

The arrangement made was that for two days and nights the body of the illustrious dead should lie in state in the rotunda of the Capitol. This plan was carried out. A guard of honor stood right and left, and very soon, in orderly procession past the mortal remains of their dead friend, the people began to pour in a continuous stream. It was now night-fall, and the shadows came down around the magnificent structure which for eighteen years had been the scene of the toils and triumphs of Garfield, now, alas, about to witness the last ovation in his honor.

On the morning of the 22d of September Washington City became, at sunrise, the scene of such a pageant as had never but once been beheld within those spacious avenues. By six o’clock the crowds had assembled, and were filing through the east door of the Capitol. As the day advanced the throng increased; and, as it became absolutely necessary that each person should have his turn in the solemn procession, the latest comers were obliged to take up their stations at the end of a long line to the rear. By ten o’clock this was found to reach to the crossing of Second Street and the avenue south-west—considerably more than a quarter of a mile away. All along this line policemen walked back and forth, to prevent stragglers from the outside from coming into the line out of turn. The people forming this procession were of the highest and lowest; among the number, thousands of women and children.

The time required to pass from this extreme limit of the line to the catafalque was, at the most crowded period, three hours and a half, and this under a broiling sun and upon a broad asphaltum pavement, which scorched the feet that pressed it.

During the day there were no incidents in the rotunda worthy of mention. Beyond the ceaseless tramp of the people, who poured through in a continuous stream, there was no sound—the desire for conversation being swallowed up in the awe which the presence of the dead President inspired. Some of the people passed the coffin without lifting their eyes from the floor, unwilling to trust themselves to gaze upon the awful sight. Others, more curious, looked as long as they could, and then reluctantly moved away. There were a great many colored people in the throng, of both sexes and of all ages and conditions. Common laborers in tattered clothing crowded upon sumptuously-dressed ladies and gentlemen, all inspired by a common motive. At one time during the day it was ascertained by actual count that sixty persons passed the coffin in one minute, or at the rate of 3,600 an hour, or more than 40,000 during the day. This is probably not above the actual number which passed through the rotunda.

At the farther end of the catafalque were some beautiful floral decorations. There was a broken column of white roses of the Marshal Neil variety, about three feet high, surmounted by a white dove with wings outspread, as if in the act of alighting. Next came a lovely design representing “The Gates Ajar.” These columns were also of white roses, and the bars of the gate were of variegated white and green. The gate-posts were surmounted by globes of immortelles. Next to this was a crown of white rosebuds, the points being tipped with fern. Beyond this was a bank of white flowers from which sprang a column on which was perched a white dove. Upon the bank of white was worked in green the words: “Our Martyr President.” At each end of the floral display was a wreath of ivy leaves lying on the floor. In the afternoon there was sent from the British Legation a massive wreath, one of the most beautiful ever seen in Washington. It came in obedience to orders telegraphed from the Queen, and the accompanying card bore the following touching and significant inscription: