In the year 1862, a fine-looking young general from the West became a boarder in the house where I lived, and sat opposite me at table. His name was James A. Garfield. I believe he had come to Washington as a member of the court in the case of General Fitz John Porter. He left after a short time and had, I supposed, quite forgotten me. But, after his election to Congress, he one evening visited the observatory, stepped into my room, and recalled our former acquaintance.
I soon found him to be a man of classical culture, refined tastes, and unsurpassed eloquence,—altogether, one of the most attractive of men. On one occasion he told me one of his experiences in the State legislature of Ohio, of which he was a member before the civil war. A bill was before the House enacting certain provisions respecting a depository. He moved, as an amendment, to strike out the word "depository" and insert "depositary." Supposing the amendment to be merely one of spelling, there was a general laugh over the house, with a cry of "Here comes the schoolmaster!" But he insisted on his point, and sent for a copy of Webster's Dictionary in order that the two words might be compared. When the definitions were read, the importance of right spelling became evident, and the laughing stopped.
It has always seemed to me that a rank injustice was done to Garfield on the occasion of the Credit Mobilier scandal of 1873, which came near costing him his position in public life. The evidence was of so indefinite and flimsy a nature that the credence given to the conclusion from it can only illustrate how little a subject or a document is exposed to searching analysis outside the precincts of a law court. When he was nominated for the presidency this scandal was naturally raked up and much made of it. I was so strongly impressed with the injustice as to write for a New York newspaper, anonymously of course, a careful analysis of the evidence, with a demonstration of its total weakness. Whether the article was widely circulated, or whether Garfield ever heard of it, I do not know; but it was amusing, a few days after it appeared, to see a paragraph in an opposition paper claiming that its contemporary had gone to the trouble of hiring a lawyer to defend Garfield.
No man better qualified as a legislator ever occupied a seat in Congress. A man cast in the largest mould, and incapable of a petty sentiment, his grasp of public affairs was rarely equaled, and his insight into the effects of legislation was of the deepest. But on what the author of the Autocrat calls the arithmetical side,—in the power of judging particular men and not general principles; in deciding who were the good men and who were not, he fell short of the ideal suggested by his legislative career. The brief months during which he administered the highest of offices were stormy enough, perhaps stormier than any president before him had ever experienced, and they would probably have been outdone by the years following, had he lived. But I believe that, had he remained in the Senate, his name would have gone into history among those of the greatest of legislators.
Sixteen years after the death of Lincoln public feeling was again moved to its depth by the assassination of Garfield. The cry seemed to pass from mouth to mouth through the streets faster than a messenger could carry the news, "The President has been shot." It chanced to reach me just as I was entering my office. I at once summoned my messenger and directed him to go over to the White House, and see if anything unusual had happened, but gave him no intimation of my fears. He promptly returned with the confirmation of the report. The following are extracts from my journal at the time:—
"July 2, Saturday: At 9.20 this morning President Garfield was shot by a miserable fellow named Guiteau, as he was passing through the Baltimore and Potomac R. R. station to leave Washington. One ball went through the upper arm, making a flesh wound, the other entered the right side on the back and cannot be found; supposed to have lodged in the liver. In the course of the day President rapidly weakened, and supposed to be dying from hemorrhage."
"Sunday morning: President still living and rallied during the day. Small chance of recovery. At night alarming symptoms of inflammation were exhibited, and at midnight his case seemed almost hopeless."
"Monday: President slightly better this morning, improving throughout the day."
"July 6. This P. M. sought an interview with Dr. Woodward at the White House, to talk of an apparatus for locating the ball by its action in retarding a rapidly revolving el. magnet. I hardly think the plan more than theoretically practical, owing to the minuteness of the action."
"The President still improving, but great dangers are yet to come, and nothing has been found of the ball, which is supposed to have stayed in the liver because, were it anywhere else, symptoms of irritation by its presence would have been shown."