Through all the trying scenes of the drama, now closed forever, Mrs. Garfield had so conducted herself that the nation was proud of her as the wife of its President, and the grief of the people was mitigated by their admiration of her bravery and heroism under circumstances that would have crushed the majority of women. And looking back at the tragedy from the day the President was shot, through the eighty-two days of his sufferings, through the death-scene, and even to the end, the country saw no act, heard no remark of Mrs. Garfield’s that was not ennobling and beautiful. On every occasion, through every crisis, and for a week after the death, while she was constantly passing from one painful interview or scene to another, she was the same quiet, self-controlled woman. Her husband had said of her that he never knew her to be stampeded; that she could not be thrown into a panic, and right nobly she vindicated the truth of his saying. Her courage was indomitable, and her composure so great that she was an enigma to many of her own sex. Much of her self-control was due to her unselfishness. She thought of others when she was the greatest sufferer, and met the requirements made upon her with a self-possession that led many to believe she would break down utterly when the excitement was over.
At Long Branch the evening after the President’s death she sent for all the wives of the members of the Cabinet, and in her own room she thanked them for their presence and active sympathy during the trying weeks since her husband was stricken. She told them that their kind words of encouragement had helped to sustain her own fortitude which was so necessary to the sufferer, and spoke of conversations with her husband before the fatal relapse in August, in which he had expressed himself in the tenderest terms regarding the members of his official family and their wives. He loved them as brothers and sisters, and was sure they loved him. Then with a sweet tenderness of manner she assured them that one of the sharp sorrows she was suffering was the knowledge that the ties so pleasant were to be severed, and that she was to see them about her no more.
All the beautiful memories that people treasure of her to-day were created by her in like acts. When she got to Cleveland, where the sight of so many familiar faces brought anew the realizing sense of her loss, she forgot herself in thinking of others. Her first act was to visit Mother Garfield, and comfort her as only she could, and to offer her sympathy to the sorrowing sisters and brother of her husband. She visited the cemetery and viewed the spot selected for the grave of the President, and made the people of Cleveland proud that they had given it to her, by her satisfaction with it. The spirit of peace and love seemed to be with her and sustain her, even back to the home she had left under such different circumstances. Into it followed the affection of a nation of people, and across the water came tokens of tenderness from many sources.
The Queen, whose womanly sympathy for Mrs. Garfield made her dear to the American people, sent her at her home a message which, with its reply, was as follows. The message was sent to Minister Lowell, who transmitted it to Secretary Blaine.
“I have received the following telegram from the Queen: ‘Would you express my sincere condolence to the late President’s mother, and inquire after her health, as well as after that of Mrs. Garfield.’ Her Majesty adds: ‘I should be thankful if you would procure me a good photograph of General Garfield.’”
Acting Secretary Hitt returned the following reply, with the request that a fitting communication should be made to Her Majesty:
“Your telegram expressing the compassion of the Queen for the mother of the late President was duly forwarded to Mrs. Garfield, at Mentor, Ohio. Have just received the following reply: ‘Please request Mr. Lowell to express to Her Majesty, the Queen, the grateful acknowledgments of the mother of General Garfield, and my own for the tender, womanly sympathy she has been pleased to send; also that Her Majesty’s wish will be complied with at an early day.’
“Lucretia R. Garfield.”
Mrs. Garfield returned to Cleveland to be present at the arrangements made for the final interment, and when the monument, to be erected in Lakeview Cemetery by the people, is completed, she will take part in the ceremonies then.
When she went into the White House she was asked for some particulars of her life for publication. Her reply was, “I have done nothing that can be written about. Wait until I have, and then it will be time enough to write.” The time came sooner than she anticipated, and in a way that not the wildest imagination would have fancied, seeing her in the fulness of life, at the top round of worldly honors, and happy in all relations. It came, and from the fiery furnace of suffering, disappointed hopes and loss, she emerged to shed bright lustre on her sex, and to elevate the world’s judgment of women in all the relations of life. She was given the opportunity to “do something,” and so well was her duty performed, that the world will never cease to do homage, to the character and virtues of the widow of the Twentieth President of the Republic, Lucretia Garfield.