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

In this frame of mind, he had a long confidential talk with Rosecrans on the subject. Rosecrans told him he ought to enter Congress.

“I am glad for your sake,” said Rosecrans, “that you have a new distinction, and I certainly think you can accept it with honor; and, what is more, I deem it your duty to do so. The war is not over yet, nor will it be for some time to come. There will be, of necessity, many questions arising in Congress which will require not alone statesman-like treatment, but the advice of men having an acquaintance with military affairs. For this, and other reasons, I believe you will be able to do equally good service to your country in Congress as in the field.”

Still General Garfield was undecided, except on one thing: that was to wait. Meantime the Chattanooga campaign came on, terminating at Chickamauga. Garfield was consumed with military zeal. He could hardly bear to think of chaining himself up to a desk for the monotonous sessions of Congress. All the military spirit which had blazed in his ancestors reasserted itself in him. His mind was absorbed with the stupendous problems of war which the Rebellion presented. Recognizing within himself an ability superior to many around and above him for grappling with questions of strategy, he was loath to abandon its exercise. It was evident, too, that in the presence of the commanding proportions of the military fame of successful Union generals, any merely Congressional reputation would be dwarfed and overshadowed.

On the other hand, his brother officers urged him to go to Congress. There was a painful need of military men there. The enormous necessities of the army seemed too great to be comprehended by civilians. All men of soldierly instincts and abilities were at the front, and there was danger that the fountain of supplies in the Lower House of Congress would dry up.

In the midst of these doubts, two weeks after the battle of Chickamauga, he was summoned to Washington. The War Department demanded a full explanation of the battle which had cost so many thousand lives. Garfield was known at Washington, and they determined to have from him the complete history of the campaign, and an explanation of the necessities of the situation.

On his way to the Capital he, of course, went by the vine-covered cottage at Hiram. After the carnage and havoc of war, the peaceful fireside seemed a thousand times more dear than ever, worth all the blood and all the tears that were being shed for it. During his brief stay at home, his first born, “Little Trot,” only three years of age, was seized with a fatal illness, and carried to the quiet village cemetery. Oppressed with the private as well as the public sorrow, he continued on his journey to Washington. In New York City he staid over night with an old college friend, Henry E. Knox. Again he talked over the Congressional question in all its bearings. The conversation lasted far into the night. The friend knew the feeling of the country; he knew the need for military men in Congress, and he was well acquainted with Garfield’s ability. His advice to General Garfield was to accept the Congressional seat as a public duty.

But never was a man so unwilling to accept a place in Congress. General Garfield felt that he had a career before him if he remained in the army, and he wanted to do so. At last he agreed to submit the question to Mr. Lincoln. “I will lay it before him when I reach Washington, and let his decision settle the matter,” said he. Garfield felt that his mission to the Capital was to save Rosecrans. When he called on Secretary Stanton, he was notified of his promotion to the rank of major-general, “for gallant and meritorious services at Chickamauga.” This added further complexity to the Congressional question. Every detail of the movements of the Army of the Cumberland was gone through with by him before the War Department. With the aid of maps he made an elaborate presentation of the facts, from the long delay at Murfreesboro clear through the Tullahoma and Chattanooga campaigns. His exposé was masterly. Every thing he could do was done to save his chief. Montgomery Blair, one of the ablest men at the Capital, after listening to General Garfield’s presentation of the facts, said to a friend, “Garfield is a great man.” President Lincoln said: “I have never understood so fully and clearly the necessities, situation, and movements of any army in the field.”

But it was in vain. Stanton was firm. Rosecrans had to go. His obstinate refusals to advance from Murfreesboro; his testy and almost insulting letters; his violent temper, and uncontrollable stubbornness had ruined him long before Chickamauga. He had broken with the Commander-in-chief as well as with Secretary Stanton. He had said that he regarded certain suggestions from the Department “as a profound, grievous, cruel, and ungenerous official and personal wrong.” The powerful enemies which he thus made only waited for an opportunity to destroy him. That opportunity came with the fatal order at Chickamauga, the rout of the right wing, the loss of presence of mind, and the ride to the rear. This last stood in painful contrast with General Garfield’s dangerous and heroic ride to the front. It was admitted that the strategy of the campaigns was splendid, Napoleonic. It could not be denied that the mistake as to the enemy’s whereabouts after the evacuation of Chattanooga originated in the dispatches from Washington. No matter. Rosecrans was relieved, and the chief of staff, whom Stanton correctly believed to have been very largely the originator of the strategic advance, was promoted.

His immediate duty at Washington being discharged, General Garfield laid the question of the seat in Congress before the man who, perhaps, felt more sympathy and appreciation for and with him than any other, because, like himself, Garfield sprang from poverty, Abraham Lincoln. The great, grave President thought it over, and finally said:

“The Republican majority in Congress is very small, and it is often doubtful whether we can carry the necessary war measures; and, besides, we are greatly lacking in men of military experience in the House to regulate legislation about the army. It is your duty, therefore, to enter Congress, at any rate for the present.”