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Title: 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.
Author: Ridpath, John Clark
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "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." ***
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[Illustration: _J. A. Garfield_]
[Illustration:
MRS. JAMES A. GARFIELD.
_Eng^d by H B Hall & Sons New York._
]
_MEMORIAL EDITION._
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, LL. D.,
AUTHOR OF A POPULAR HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES; A GRAMMAR-SCHOOL
HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES; AN INDUCTIVE GRAMMAR OF THE ENGLISH
LANGUAGE, ETC.
COPIOUSLY ILLUSTRATED.
P. W. ZIEGLER & CO.,
PHILADELPHIA AND CHICAGO.
1881.
COPYRIGHTED, 1881, BY J. T. JONES.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE.
Dean Swift describes the tomb as a place where savage enmity can rend
the heart no more. Here, in the ominous shadow of the cypress, the
faults and foibles of life are forgotten, and the imagination builds a
shining pathway to the stars. Ascending this with rapid flight, the
great dead is transfigured as he rises; the clouds close around him,
and, in the twinkling of an eye, he is set afar on the heights with
Miltiades and Alexander.
The tendency to the deification of men is strongest when a sudden
eclipse falls athwart the disk of a great life at noontide. The pall of
gloom sweeps swiftly across the landscape, and the beholder, feeling the
chill of the darkness, mistakes it for the death of nature. So it was
three hundred years ago when the silent Prince of Orange, the founder of
Dutch independence, was smitten down in Delft. So it was when the
peerless Lincoln fell. So it is when Garfield dies by the bullet of an
assassin.
No doubt this man is glorified by his shameful and causeless death. The
contrast between his life and his death is indeed the very irony of
fate. On the popular imagination he is borne away to Washington and
Lincoln. He is canonized—the American people will have it so.
In due season fervor will subside. The keen indignation and poignant
sorrow of this great and sensitive citizenship will at length give place
to other emotions. The murdered Garfield will then pass through an
ordeal more trying than any of his life. He will be coolly measured and
his stature ascertained by those inexorable laws which determine the
rank and place of both living and dead. No doubt he will suffer loss;
but there is of James A. Garfield a residuum of greatness—
Which shall tire
Torture and Time, and breathe though he expire;
Something unearthly which we deem not of,
Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre,—
And this residuum of greatness, whatever it shall be, will constitute
the Garfield of the future—the Garfield of history.
For the present there will be—there can but be—a blending of the real
and the ideal. The glamour of the apotheosis will dazzle the vision of
those who witnessed it. It is enough, therefore, that the narrative of
to-day shall be such as befits the universal sentiment. The biographer
of the future may weigh with more critical exactitude the weakness
against the greatness, and poise in a more delicate balance the evil
against the good.
The following pages embody an effort to present, in fair proportion, THE
LIFE AND WORK OF JAMES A. GARFIELD. Such sources of information as are
at present accessible have been faithfully consulted; and it is
sincerely hoped that the outline here given of the personal and public
career of the illustrious dead, will be found true to the life. As far
as practicable in the following pages, the purposes and character of
President Garfield will be determined from his own words. His apothegms
and sayings, not a few, and his public papers and speeches have alike
contributed their wealth to the better parts of the volume. The story of
the President’s wounding and death has been gathered from the abundant
sources—official and semi-official—of the journals and magazines of the
day. It is hoped that the narrative, as a whole, will not be found
deficient in interest, or unworthy of the subject.
This preface would be incomplete if failure should be made to mention
the invaluable and extensive service rendered the author in the
preparation of the work, by Messrs. AUGUSTUS L. MASON, NATHANIEL P.
CONREY, and LEONARD BARNEY, to whose industry and discriminating taste
much of whatever merit the book contains, must be accredited. And with
this acknowledgment should be coupled a like recognition of the spirit
of THE PUBLISHERS, who, with their accustomed liberality, have spared no
pains to illustrate the work in a manner befitting the subject. May all
who read these pages find in them as full a measure of profit as the
author has found of pleasure in their preparation.
J. C. R.
INDIANA ASBURY UNIVERSITY,
_November, 1881_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND ANCESTRY.
PAGES
“Unto us a child is born.”—A lowly home in the wilderness.—Law
of heredity.—The New England stock.—The Garfields.—The
Ballous.—Trend of the boy mind.—The father’s death.—Story of
the cause.—The widow’s struggle.—Life in the Garfield
cabin.—Earliest labor.—First lessons.—The Garfield
family.—Boyhood traits.—The growing stalk. 11–27
CHAPTER II.
THE STRUGGLE OF BOYHOOD.
A Western boy of twelve.—Workland and dreamland.—A carpenter in
embryo.—Summer day and winter day.—The door of bookland
opens.—What he saw.—A doubtful farmer.—Possibly something
else.—A giant of sixteen.—The stage of brigandage.—Pirate or
President?—Meanwhile a wood-chopper.—The sea-vision
again.—The great deep takes the form of a canal.—Venus:
otherwise, the _Evening Star_.—The glory of the
tow-path.—Navigation and pugilism.—Diving for pearls.—Leaves
the sea.—The goblin that shakes us all.—Politics, religion,
and grammar.—Off to school.—A place called Chester.—Builds a
barn.—And then teaches a school.—More school.—Joins
church.—Credo.—Possible sweetheart.—Learns elocution.—Hiram
rises to view.—An academic course of study.—What about
college?—Bethany, maybe.—Decides against it.—Why.—Knocks at
the door of Williams. 28–58
CHAPTER III.
THE MORNING OF POWER.
College life.—A Junior at Williams.—Favorite books.—College
traditions.—A brain of many powers.—“Mountain Day.”—Essays in
literature.—The Williams _Quarterly_.—Poems: _Memory_,
_Autumn_, _Charge of the Tight Brigade_.—A writing-master at
intervals.—Free Kansas.—A metaphysician.—Steps out with
honor.—Mark Hopkins.—Becomes a professor at Hiram.—And then a
college president.—His methods and manners.—Success as an
educator.—Lectures and preaches.—A union for life.—The chosen
mate.—Incipient politics.—First nomination for office.—State
senator from Portage and Summit.—Hints at leadership.—Rises
in influence.—The approaching conflict.—Ohio makes ready for
battle.—Independence Day at Ravenna.—Sound of the
tocsin.—Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold! 59–87
CHAPTER IV.
A SOLDIER OF THE UNION.
A West Point soldier.—George H. Thomas.—The Union
volunteer.—Garfield appointed Lieutenant-Colonel.—And then
Colonel.—The Forty-second Ohio.—Studies war.—Ordered to the
front.—Kentucky, who shall have her?—Marshall says,
_I_.—Garfield objects.—Don Carlos Buell.—Expedition to
Catlettsburg.—Pluck to the backbone, Sir.—Will attack
Paintville.—A man called Jordan.—The region and the
people.—Harry Brown, Esq.—Capture of Paintville.—Battle of
Middle Creek.—A big victory on a small scale.—Address to the
soldiers.—Big Sandy on the rampage.—Garfield takes a turn at
the wheel.—Proclamation to the people of the
Valley.—Concerning Pound Gap.—A proposed muster rudely broken
up.—Exit Humphrey Marshall.—General Orders No. 40.—Comments
on the campaign. 88–114
CHAPTER V.
HERO AND GENERAL.
Brigadier-General Garfield.—Reports to Buell.—A new field of
activity.—At Pittsburg Landing.—Stands up for Africa.—Sits on
court-martial.—Again the goblin shakes us.—But we report at
Washington.—Tries Fitz-John Porter.—Assigned to Hunter’s
command.—Appointed chief of staff to Rosecrans.—The
commanding general.—Duties of chief of staff.—Personal sketch
of Garfield.—Rosecrans dislikes him.—And then likes
him.—Sheridan’s ten-pins.—Garfield issues circular on prison
pens.—Helps Vallandigham across the border.—Opposes negro
insurrection.—Stands by Lincoln.—Organizes army
police.—Favors in advance.—The Tullahoma
campaign.—Rosecrans’s advance on Chattanooga.—The
capture.—Position of Bragg.—The big game begun.—Situation and
preliminaries.—The battle of Chickamauga.—Garfield’s
part.—Praise and promotion.—We are elected to Congress.—And
accept. 115–166
CHAPTER VI.
IN THE ASCENDANT.
The constituency of Garfield.—The old Western Reserve.—Joshua
R. Giddings.—Character of Congress.—Garfield enters the Cave
of the Winds.—On Military Committee.—Opposes the bounty
system.—Favors the draft.—Advocates confiscation.—Demolishes
A. Long, Esq.—The Wade-Davis Manifesto.—A strange
renomination.—Advocates the Thirteenth Amendment.—Beards
Stanton.—The assassination of Lincoln.—Scene in New
York.—Speech on the Lincoln anniversary.—The temperance
question.—Defends Milligan and Company.—Advocates a Bureau of
Education.—Chairman of Committee on Military Affairs.—The
visit to Europe.—Oration on Decoration Day. 167–210
CHAPTER VII.
LEADER AND STATESMAN.
Opposes his constituents on the money question.—Garfield on the
Ninth Census.—Speaks on Statistics.—Reports on Black
Friday.—Speaks on Civil Service.—Defends the prerogatives of
the House.—An authority on Revenue and Expenditure.—Speaks
against the McGarraghan Claim.—Advocates an Educational
Fund.—Opposes inflation of currency.—Discusses the railway
problem.—An oration on the Elements of Success.—Literary
views and habits.—Oration on the Life and Character of
Thomas.—Speech on the Future of the Republic. 211–253
CHAPTER VIII.
THE NOONTIDE.
The era of slander.—The Credit Mobilier of America.—Reviewed
and answered by Garfield.—The so-called Salary Grab.—Trouble
in the Western Reserve.—Garfield’s defense and
vindication.—The DeGollyer pavement matter.—Triumphant answer
to charges.—Democratic ascendancy of 1874.—The “Confederate
Congress.”—Garfield speaks on the Pension Bill.—Demolishes
Lamar.—Speech on the acceptance of the Winthrop and Adams
statues.—Opposes the Electoral Commission.—Favors Specie
Payments.—Proposed for Speaker.—Opposes the Bland Silver
Bill.—Speech on the Judicial Appropriation Bill.—The payment
of United States marshals.—Appropriation Bill again.—Elected
to the Senate. 254–307
CHAPTER IX.
GREAT QUESTIONS AND GREAT ANSWERS.
Questions of American statesmanship.—Garfield tested.—Speeches
on STATES RIGHTS AND NATIONAL SOVEREIGNTY: No Nullification;
Force Bill; Equipoise of Government; Fourteenth
Amendment.—Speeches on FINANCE AND MONEY: The Industrial
Revolution; Gold and Silver; Currency; Banks; Paper Money;
Resumption Act.—Speeches on REVENUE AND EXPENDITURES: Free
Trade and Tariff; Public Expenditures; War Expenses.—Speeches
on CHARACTER AND TENDENCY OF AMERICAN INSTITUTIONS: Future of
the Republic; Government and Science; Revolution in Congress;
Voluntary powers of government; Free consent the basis of our
laws.—A general estimate of Garfield’s genius. 308–402
CHAPTER X.
THE CLIMAX OF 1880.
American political parties.—The Third Term question.—The Grant
movement.—Leaders of the Stalwarts.—The political
“Machine.”—Contrast of Garfield and Conkling.—Gathering of
the clans.—Grant and Anti-Grant.—The Unit Rule.—A truce.—Hoar
for Chairman.—Skirmishes.—Blaine’s
forces.—Adjournments.—Gloomy Friday.—Rule VIII.—Putting in
nomination.—Speeches of Frye, Conkling, and Garfield.—The
balloting.—Garfield and Arthur nominated. 403–442
CHAPTER XI.
CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENCY.
Delicate position of a presidential candidate.—The policy of
mum.—Garfield’s theory of running for office.—He is notified
of his nomination.—Hoar’s speech.—The reply.—The journey to
Cleveland.—Reception and speech at Hiram.—Address at
Painesville.—The shrine of Mentor.—Garfield visits
Washington.—Speaks to the people.—At Painesville.—Speech at
the Dedication of the Soldiers’ Monument.—Letter of
Acceptance.—The issues of the campaign.—Speaks at the
Dedication of the Geneva Monument.—Visits New York.—At
Chatauqua.—Attends reunion at Ashland.—Addresses the soldiers
at Mentor.—The October election.—The saintly pilgrims on
their way.—A candidate who dares to talk.—Speeches to the
pilgrims.—The mud-mill.—Morey _et al._—The machine bursts and
the millers get the mud.—Judgment Day.—Garfield is
elected.—Speaks to the Electors of Ohio.—Address to the
Carolina Delegation.—Conkling visits Mentor.—The departure
for Washington.—Last speech at Mentor.—En route for the
inauguration. 443–485
CHAPTER XII.
IN THE HIGH SEAT.
Morning of the Fourth of March.—Conspiracy of the
elements.—Preparations.—The procession.—Clears up.—The Grand
Ceremony.—Inaugural address.—Setting up in business.—The new
Cabinet.—The temperance question.—The Administration on its
feet.—The pro and con of a Called Session of
Congress.—Nomination of Robertson.—The Refunding
Question.—Dearth of politics.—Symptoms of a family
quarrel.—The issues involved in it.—The Robertson
appointment.—_Exeunt_ Conkling and Platt.—A President who has
his own way.—Smoother sailing after the storm.—Adjournment of
Congress.—Sickness in the White House.—Sympathy of the people
for Mrs. Garfield.—The Summer, what shall we do with it? 486–516
CHAPTER XIII.
SHOT DOWN.
Recovery of Mrs. Garfield.—A great tragedy.—First alarms.—The
physicians of the President.—The assassin.—The world’s
sympathy.—A dolorous Fourth.—Diagnosis.—Motives of the
assassin.—General Arthur.—Favorable progress of the
President.—Conkling’s letter on murder.—The President’s
mental condition.—Sunday.—Heated weather.—The
refrigerators.—Mistaken diagnosis.—Foreign sympathies.—The
Induction Balance.—The Mrs. Garfield Fund.—Supposed
convalescence.—President worse.—Surgical
operations.—Sensational dispatches.—Possible
malaria.—Induction Balance again.—Surgeons hopeful.—A second
operation.—Last letter.—Project of removal.—Dangerous
symptoms.—Mrs. Garfield.—A good queen.—Cheerful and
brave.—The inflamed parotid.—Pyæmia feared.—Gradual
decline.—Death imminent.—Removal determined
on.—Preparations.—Night scene at Elberon. 517–615
CHAPTER XIV.
GAZING ON THE SEA.
The President is removed to Long Branch.—Scenes and incidents
of the journey.—Francklyn Cottage.—Revival of hope.—Great
solicitude of the people.—Foolish confidence of the
surgeons.—The President somewhat revived.—Great anxiety
follows.—The last day.—Fatal chill.—Mrs. Garfield’s
heroism.—The gathering shadows.—Death. 616–643
CHAPTER XV.
THE SOLEMN PAGEANT.
Preparations for the funeral of the
President.—Embalmment.—Accession of Gen. Arthur.—The
post-mortem.—Astonishing revelations.—Announcement of the
President’s death.—The funeral train.—En route for
Washington.—Lying in state.—Victoria’s tribute.—Address of
Elder Powers.—Viewing the body.—The train for
Cleveland.—Reception and preparations.—Imposing
ceremonies.—The last day.—Closing scenes and addresses.—The
sepulchre.—Reflections. 646–672
DEATHLESS.
_This man hath reared a monument more grand
Than sculptured bronze, and loftier than the height
Of regal pyramids in Memphian sand,
Which not the raging tempest nor the might
Of the loud North-wind shall assailing blight,
Nor years unnumbered nor the lapse of time!
Not all of him shall perish! for the bright
And deathless part shall spurn with foot sublime
The darkness of the grave—the dread and sunless clime!_
_He shall be sung to all posterity
With freshening praise, where in the morning’s glow
The farm-boy with his harnessed team shall be,
And where New England’s swifter rivers flow
And orange groves of Alabama blow—
Strong in humility, and great to lead
A mighty people where the ages go!
Take then thy station, O illustrious dead!
And place, Immortal Fame, the garland on his head!_
—HORACE: B. III., ODE XXX.
LIFE AND WORK
OF
JAMES A. GARFIELD.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND ANCESTRY.
Genius delights in hatching her offspring in out-of-the-way
places.—_Irving._
When some great work is waiting to be done,
And Destiny ransacks the city for a man
To do it; finding none therein, she turns
To the fecundity of Nature’s woods,
And there, beside some Western hill or stream,
She enters a rude cabin unannounced,
And ere the rough frontiersman from his toil,
Where all day long he hews the thickets down,
Returns at evening, she salutes his wife,
His fair young wife, and says, Behold! thou art
The Mother of the Future!
Men, like books, have their beginnings. James Abram Garfield was born on
the 19th day of November, 1831. His first outlook upon things was from a
cabin door in Cuyahoga County, Ohio. The building was of rough logs,
with mud between the cracks, to keep out the winter cold. The single
room had a puncheon floor, and on one side a large fire-place, with a
blackened crane for cooking purposes. In winter evenings, a vast pile of
blazing logs in this fire-place filled the cabin with a cheerful warmth
and ruddy glow. Overhead, from the rude rafters, hung rows of well-cured
hams, and around the mud chimney were long strings of red-pepper pods
and dried pumpkins. The furniture was as primitive as the apartment. A
puncheon table, a clumsy cupboard, a couple of large bedsteads, made by
driving stakes in the floor, some blocks for seats, and a well-kept gun,
almost complete the catalogue. The windows had greased paper instead of
glass; and, in rough weather, were kept constantly closed with heavy
shutters.
[Illustration: THE GARFIELD CABIN.]
Stepping out of doors, one would see that the cabin stood on the edge of
a small clearing of some twenty acres. On the south, at a little
distance, stood a solid log barn, differing from the house only in
having open cracks. The barn-yard had a worm fence around it, and
contained a heavy ox-wagon and a feeding-trough for hogs. Skirting the
clearing on all sides was the forest primeval, which, on the 19th of
November, the frost had already transfigured with gold and scarlet
splendors. Cold winds whistled through the branches, and thick showers
of dry leaves fell rustling to the ground.
Already the cabin shutters were closed for the winter; already the
cattle munched straw and fodder at the barn, instead of roaming through
the forest for tender grass and juicy leaves; already a huge wood-pile
appeared by the cabin door. The whole place had that sealed-up look
which betokens the approach of winter at the farm-house. The sun rose
late, hung low in the sky at high noon; and, after feeble effort, sunk
early behind the western forest. Well for the brave pioneers is it, if
they are ready for a long and bitter struggle with the winter.
So much for the home. But what of the family? Who and what are they? As
the babe sleeps in its mother’s arms, what prophecy of its destiny is
there written in the red pages of the blood ancestral?
In America, the Southern States have been the land of splendid
hospitality, chivalric manners, and aristocratic lineage; the West the
land of courage, enterprise, and practical executive ability; but the
New England States have been preëminently the home of intellectual
genius and moral heroism. From New England came both the father and
mother of James A. Garfield, and it means much. But there are reasons
for looking at his ancestry more closely.
The law of heredity has long been suspected, and, in late years, has
been, to a considerable extent, regarded as the demonstrated and
universal order of nature. It is the law by which the offspring inherits
the qualities and characteristics of its ancestors. It makes the oak the
same sort of a tree as the parent, from which the seed acorn fell. It
makes a tree, which sprang from the seed of a large peach, yield downy
fruit as large and luscious as the juicy ancestor. It says that every
thing shall produce after its kind; that small radishes shall come from
the seed of small radishes, and a richly perfumed geranium from the slip
cut from one of that kind. It says that, other things being equal, the
descendants of a fast horse shall be fast, and the posterity of a plug
shall be plugs. It says that a Jersey cow, with thin ears, straight
back, and copious yield of rich milk, shall have children like unto
herself. But a man has many more qualities and possibilities than a
vegetable or a brute. He has an infinitely wider range, through which
his characteristics may run. The color of his hair, his size, his
strength, are but the smallest part of his inheritance. He inherits also
the size and texture of his brain, the shape of his skull, and the skill
of his hands. It is among his ancestry that must be sought the reason
and source of his powers. It is there that is largely determined the
question of his capacity for ideas, and it is from his ancestry that a
man should form his ideas of his capacity. It is there that are largely
settled the matters of his tastes and temper, of his ambitions and his
powers. The question of whether he shall be a mechanic, a tradesman, or
a lawyer, is already settled before he gets a chance at the problem.
The old myth about the gods holding a council at the birth of every
mortal, and determining his destiny, has some truth in it. In one
respect it is wrong. The council of the gods is held years before his
birth; it has been in session all the time. If a man has musical skill,
he gets it from his ancestry. It is the same with an inventor, or an
artist, or a scholar, or a preacher. This looks like the law of fate. It
is not. It is the fate of law.
But this is not all of the law of inheritance. Men have an inherited
moral nature, as well as an intellectual one. Drunkenness, sensuality,
laziness, extravagance, and pauperism, are handed down from father to
son. Appetites are inherited, and so are habits. On the other hand,
courage, energy, self-denial, the power of work, are also transmitted
and inherited. If a man’s ancestry were thieves, it will not do to trust
him. If they were bold, true, honest men and women, it will do to rely
upon him.
In late years, this law of inheritance has been much studied by
scientists. The general law is about as has been stated; but it has
innumerable offsets and qualifications which are not understood.
Sometimes a child is a compound of the qualities of both parents. More
frequently the son resembles the mother, and the daughter the father.
Sometimes the child resembles neither parent, but seems to inherit every
thing from an uncle or aunt. Often the resemblance to the grand-parent
is the most marked. That these complications are governed by fixed,
though, at present, unknown laws, can not be doubted; but for the
purposes of biography the question is unessential.
Scientists say that nine-tenths of a man’s genius is hereditary, and
one-tenth accidental. The inherited portion may appear large, but it is
to be remembered that only _possibilities_ are inherited, and that _not
one man in a million reaches the limit of his possibilities_. If the
lives of the ancestors of James A. Garfield were studied, we could tell
what his possibilities were; while, by studying the life of Garfield
himself, we see how nearly he realized those possibilities. This is the
reason why biography interests itself in a man’s ancestors. They furnish
the key to the situation.
Of the many classes of colonists who settled this continent, by far the
most illustrious were the Puritans and the Huguenots. Their names, alike
invented as epithets of contempt and derision, have become the brightest
on the historic page. Their fame rests upon their sacrifices. Not for
gold, nor adventure, nor discovery, did they seek the forest-wrapped
continent of North America, but for the sake of worshiping God according
to the dictates of their own consciences. Different in nationality,
language, and temperament—the one from the foggy isle of England, the
other from the sunny skies of France—they alike fled from religious
persecution; the Puritan from that intolerance and bigotry which cost
Charles I. his head and revolutionized the English monarchy; the
Huguenot from the withdrawal of the last vestige of religious liberty by
Louis XIV. The proudest lineage which an American can trace is to one or
the other of these communities of exiles.—In James A. Garfield these two
currents of noble and heroic blood met and mingled.
The first ancestor, by the name of Garfield, of whom the family have any
record, is Edward Garfield, a Puritan, who, for the sake of conscience,
in 1636, left his home near the boundary line of England and Wales, and
joined the colony of the distinguished John Winthrop, at Watertown,
Massachusetts. He appears to have been a plain farmer, of deep,
religious convictions, and much respected by the community in which he
lived. Of his ancestry, only two facts are known. One is that no book of
the peerage or list of English nobility ever contained the name of
Garfield. The other is that, at some time in the past, possibly during
the Crusades, the family had received, or adopted, a coat of arms. The
device was a golden shield crossed by three crimson bars; in one corner
a cross; in another a heart; above the shield an arm and hand grasping a
sword. A Latin motto, “_In cruce vinco_,”—“In the cross I
conquer,”—completed the emblem. It is probable that the family had been
soldiers, not unlikely in a religious war. The wife of Edward Garfield
was a fair-haired girl from Germany.—To the brave heart and earnest
temper of the Welshman, was added the persistence and reflectiveness of
the German mind. Of their immediate descendants, but little can be told.
Like the ancestor they were
“To fortune and to fame unknown.”
But they were honest and respected citizens—tillers of the soil—not
infrequently holding some local position as selectman or captain of
militia. Five of the lineal descendants are said to sleep in the
beautiful cemetery in Watertown, “careless alike of sunshine and of
storm.”
Tracing the family history down to the stirring and memorable period of
the American Revolution, the name which has now become historic emerges
from obscurity. The spirit of Puritanism, which had braved the rigors of
life in the colonies rather than abate one jot of its intellectual
liberty, nourished by hardship and strengthened by misfortune, had been
handed down by the law of inheritance through eight peaceful
generations. It was the spirit which resented oppression, demanded
liberty, and fought for principle till the last dollar was spent, and
the last drop of blood was shed in her cause.
We might have calculated on the descendants of the Puritan colonist
being in the front of battle from the very outbreak of the War for
Independence. It was so. They were there. They were the kind of men to
be there. Abraham Garfield, great-uncle of the President, took part in
the first real battle of the Revolution, the fight at Concord Bridge,
which fixed the status of the Colonies as that of rebellion. On the
fourth day after the bloodletting the following affidavit was drawn up
and sworn to before a magistrate:
LEXINGTON, April 23, 1775.
“We, John Hoar, John Whithead, Abraham Garfield, Benjamin Munroe,
Isaac Parker, William Hosmer, John Adams, Gregory Stone, all of
Lincoln, in the County of Middlesex, Massachusetts Bay, all of
lawful age, do testify and say, that on Wednesday last, we were
assembled at Concord, in the morning of said day, in consequence of
information received that a brigade of regular troops were on their
march to the said town of Concord, who had killed six men at the
town of Lexington. About an hour afterwards we saw them approaching,
to the number, as we apprehended, of about 1,200, on which we
retreated to a hill about eighty rods back, and the said troops then
took possession of the hill where we were first posted. Presently
after this we saw the troops moving toward the North Bridge, about
one mile from the said Concord meeting-house; we then immediately
went before them and passed the bridge, just before a party of them,
to the number of about two hundred, arrived; they there left about
one-half of their two hundred at the bridge, and proceeded with the
rest toward Col. Barrett’s, about two miles from the said bridge;
and the troops that were stationed there, observing our approach,
marched back over the bridge and then took up some of the planks; we
then hastened our march toward the bridge, and when we had got near
the bridge they fired on our men, first three guns, one after the
other, and then a considerable number more; and then, and not before
(having orders from our commanding officers not to fire till we were
fired upon), we fired upon the regulars and they retreated. On their
retreat through the town of Lexington to Charlestown, they ravaged
and destroyed private property, and burnt three houses, one barn,
and one shop.”
[Illustration: MOTHER OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD.]
[Illustration: GEN. GARFIELD ADDRESSING THE PEOPLE AT CLEVELAND.]
[Illustration: RECEPTION TO GEN. GARFIELD AFTER THE NOMINATION.]
The act of signature to that paper was one of the sublimest courage. It
identified the leaders of the fight; it admitted and justified the act
of firing on the troops of the government! It seemed almost equal to
putting the executioner’s noose around their necks. But to such men,
life was a feather-weight compared to principle. If the Colonies were to
be roused to rebellion and revolution, the truth of that fight at
Concord bridge had to be laid before the people, accompanied by proofs
that could not be questioned. The patriots not only did the deed but
shouldered the responsibility. Of the signers with Abraham Garfield,
John Hoar was the great-grandfather of Senator George F. Hoar, presiding
officer of the convention which nominated James A. Garfield for the
Presidency.
Solomon Garfield, brother of Abraham, and great-grandfather of the
subject of this history, had married Sarah Stimpson in 1766, and was
living at Weston, Massachusetts, when the war broke out. Little is known
of him except that he was a soldier of the Revolution, and came out of
the war alive, but impoverished by the loss of his property. He soon
moved to Otsego County, New York, where one of his sons, Thomas
Garfield, married. It was on the latter’s farm, in December, 1799, that
was born Abram Garfield, the ninth lineal descendant of the Puritan, and
father of the man whose name and fame are henceforth the heritage of all
mankind. Two years after the birth of Abram, his father died suddenly
and tragically, leaving his young widow and several children in most
adverse circumstances. When about twelve years old, Abram, a stout
sun-burnt little fellow, fell in with a playmate two years younger than
himself, named Eliza Ballou, also a widow’s child whose mother had
recently moved to Worcester, Otsego County, New York, where the
Garfields were living. In that childhood friendship lay the germ of a
romantic love, of which the fruit was to be more important to men and to
history than that of the most splendid nuptials ever negotiated in the
courts of kings.
James Ballou, Eliza’s older brother, impatient of the wretched poverty
in which they dwelt, persuaded his mother to emigrate to Ohio. The
emigrant wagon, with its jaded horses, its muddy white cover, its much
jostled load of household articles, and its sad-eyed and forlorn
occupants! How the picture rises before the eyes! What a history it
tells of poverty and misfortune; of disappointment and hardship; of a
wretched home left behind, yet dear to memory because left behind; of a
still harder life ahead in the western wilderness toward which it wends
its weary way! More showy equipages there have been. The Roman chariot,
the English stage-coach, and the palace railway train, have each been
taken up and embalmed in literature. But the emigrant wagon, richer in
association, closer to the heart-throb, more familiar with tears than
smiles, has found no poet who would stoop to the lowly theme. In a few
years the emigrant wagon will be a thing of the past, and forgotten; but
though we bid it farewell forever, let it have a high place in the
American heart and history, as the precursor of our cities and our
civilization.
Thus the boy and girl were separated. Abram Garfield was brought up as a
“bound boy” by a farmer named Stone. While he was filling the place of
chore boy on the New York farm, Eliza Ballou, having something more than
an ordinary education, taught a summer school in the Ohio wilderness. It
is said that one day, in a terrific storm, a red bolt of lightning shot
through the cabin roof, smiting teacher and scholars to the floor, thus
breaking up the school. The spirit of tragedy seems to have hovered over
her entire life.
Love laughs at difficulties and delays, and in a few years after the
Ballou emigration, Abram Garfield, a “stalwart” of the earlier and
better kind, tramped his muddy way along the same roads, across the same
rivers, and—strange, was it not?—to the very cabin where the emigrant
wagon had stopped. Swift flew the shining days of courtship; and Eliza
Ballou became Eliza Ballou Garfield, the mother of the President.
Eliza Ballou was a lineal descendant of Maturin Ballou, a French
Huguenot, who, about the year 1685, upon the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes, fled from the smiling vineyards of France to the rugged but
liberty-giving land of America. Joining the colony of Roger Williams, at
Cumberland, Rhode Island, which had adopted for its principle “In civil
matters, law; in religious matters, liberty,” he built a queer old
church, from the pulpit of which he thundered forth his philippics
against religious intolerance. The building still stands, and is a
curiosity of architecture. Not a nail was used in its construction. For
generation after generation the descendants of this man were eloquent
preachers, occupying the very pulpit of their ancestor. Their names are
famous. They were men of powerful intellects, thorough culture, and
splendid characters. Their posterity has enriched this country with many
distinguished lawyers, soldiers, and politicians. They were a superior
family from the first, uniting to brilliant minds a spotless integrity,
an indomitable energy, and the burning and eloquent gifts of the orator.
The best known member of the family is Rev. Hosea Ballou, the founder of
the Universalist Church in America, of whom Eliza Ballou was a
grand-niece. He was a man of wide intellectual activity, a prolific and
powerful writer, and made a marked impress on the thought of his
generation.
From this brief view of the ancestry of James A. Garfield, it is easy to
see that there was the hereditary preparation for a great man. From the
father’s side came great physical power, large bones, big muscles, and
an immense brain. From the father’s line also came the heritage of
profound conviction, of a lofty and resistless courage, which was ready
anywhere to do and die for the truth, and of the exhaustless patience
which was the product of ten generations of tilling the soil. On the
other hand, the Ballous were small of stature, of brilliant and
imaginative minds, of impetuous and energetic temperament, of the finest
grain, physically and mentally. They were scholars; people of books and
culture, and, above all, they were orators. From them, albeit, came the
intellectual equipment of their illustrious descendant. From the mother,
Garfield inherited the love of books, the capacity for ideas, the
eloquent tongue, and the tireless energy. To the earnest solidity and
love of liberty of the Welshman, Edward Garfield, mixed with the
reflective thought of the fair-haired German wife, was added the
characteristic clearness and vivacity of the French mind.
The trend of Garfield’s mind could not have been other than deeply
religious. The Ballous, for ten generations, had been preachers. No man
could combine in himself the Puritan and Huguenot without being a true
worshiper of God. On the other hand, while Puritans and Huguenots were
at first religious sects, their struggles were with the civil power; so
that each of them in time became the representative of the deepest
political life of their respective nationalities. Through both father
and mother, therefore, came a genius for politics and affairs of state;
the conservatism of the sturdy Briton being quickened by the radicalism,
the genius for reform which belongs to the mercurial Frenchman. From
both parents would also come a liberality and breadth of mind, which
distinguishes only a few great historic characters. The large, slow
moving, good natured Garfields were by temperament far removed from
bigotry; while the near ancestor of the mother had been excommunicated
from the Baptist Church, because he thought God was merciful enough to
save all mankind from the flames of ultimate perdition.
In Garfield’s ancestry there was also a vein of military genius. The
coat of arms, the militia captaincy of Benjamin Garfield, the affidavit
of Abraham at Concord bridge, are the outcroppings on the father’s side.
The mother was a near relative of General Rufus Ingalls; and her
brother, for whom the President was named, was a brave soldier in the
war of 1812.
These, then, are some of the prophecies which had been spoken of the
child that was born in the Garfield cabin in the fall of 1831. Future
biographers will, perhaps, make more extended investigations, but we
have seen something, in the language of the dead hero himself, “of those
latent forces infolded in the spirit of the new-born child; forces that
may date back centuries and find their origin in the life and thoughts
and deeds of remote ancestors; forces, the germs of which, enveloped in
the awful mystery of life, have been transmitted silently from
generation to generation, and never perish.” As we pursue his history we
will see these various forces cropping out in his career; at one time
the scholar, at another, the preacher; at others, the soldier, the
orator, or the statesman, but always, always the man.
For two years after the birth of their youngest child James, the lives
of Abram and Eliza Garfield flowed on peacefully and hopefully enough.
The children were growing; the little farm improving; new settlers were
coming in daily; and there began to be much expected from the new system
of internal improvements. With happy and not unhopeful hearts they
looked forward to a future of comfortable prosperity. But close by the
cradle gapes the grave. Every fireside has its tragedy. In one short
hour this happy, peaceful life had fled. The fire fiend thrust his torch
into the dry forests of north-western Ohio, in the region of the
Garfield home. In an instant, the evening sky was red with flame. It was
a moment of horror. Sweeping on through the blazing tree-tops with the
speed of the wind came the tornado of fire. Destruction seemed at hand,
not only of crops and fences, but of barns, houses, stock, and of the
people themselves. In this emergency, the neighbors for miles around
gathered under the lead of Abram Garfield to battle for all that was
near and dear. A plan of work was swiftly formed. Hour after hour they
toiled with superhuman effort. Choked and blinded by volumes of smoke,
with scorched hands and singed brows, they fought the flames hand to
hand till, at last, the current of death was turned aside. The little
neighborhood of settlers was saved. But the terrific exertions put forth
by Abram Garfield had exhausted him beyond the reach of recuperation.
Returning home, from the night of toil, and incautiously exposing
himself, he was attacked with congestion of the lungs. Every effort to
relieve the sufferer was made by the devoted wife. Every means known to
her was used to rally the exhausted vitality, but in vain. Chill
followed chill. The vital powers were exhausted, and the life-tide ebbed
fast away. In a few hours the rustle of black wings was heard in that
lowly home in the wilderness. Calling his young wife to him he
whispered, “Eliza, you will soon be alone. We have planted four saplings
here in these woods; I leave them to your care.” One last embrace from
the grief-stricken wife and children; one more look through the open
door at the little clearing and the circling forest, over which the
setting sun was throwing its latest rays, and the heroic spirit had
departed. Little by little the darkness of the night without came in and
mingled with the darkness of the night within.
Though stunned by this appalling calamity, Eliza Ballou Garfield, true
to the heroic ancestry from which she sprung, took up the burden of life
with invincible courage. The prospect was a hard one. Of the four
children, the oldest, Thomas, was ten years of age; the two little girls
ranged at seven and four, and the blue-eyed baby, James, had seen only
twenty months. On the other hand, the widow’s resources were scanty
indeed. The little farm was only begun. To make a farm in a timber
country is a life task for the stoutest man. Years and years of arduous
toil would be required to fell the timber, burn the stumps, grub out the
roots, and fence the fields before it could really be a farm. Worse than
this, the place was mortgaged. The little clearing of twenty acres, with
the imperfect cultivation which one weak woman, unaided, could give it,
had to be depended on, not only to furnish food for herself and the four
children, but to pay taxes and interest on the mortgage, and gradually
to lessen the principal of the debt itself. The pioneer population of
the country was as poor as herself, hardly able to raise sufficient
grain for bread, and reduced almost to starvation by the failure of a
single crop.
So fearful were the odds against the plucky little widow that her
friends pointed out the overwhelming difficulties of the situation, and
earnestly advised her to let her children be distributed among the
neighbors for bringing up. Firmly but kindly she put aside their
well-meant efforts. With invincible courage and an iron will, she said:
“My family must not be separated. It is my wish and duty to raise these
children myself. No one can care for them like a mother.” It is from
such a mother that great men are born. She lost no time in irresolution,
but plunged at once into the roughest sort of men’s labor. The
wheat-field was only half fenced; the precious harvest which was to be
their sustenance through the winter was still ungathered, and would be
destroyed by roving cattle, which had been turned loose during the
forest fires. The emergency had to be met, and she met it. Finding in
the woods some trees, fresh fallen beneath her husband’s glittering ax,
she commenced the hard work of splitting rails. At first she succeeded
poorly; her hands became blistered, her arms sore, and her heart sick.
But with practice she improved. Her small arms learned to swing the maul
with a steady stroke. Day by day the worm fence crawled around the wheat
field, until the ends met.
The highest heroism is not that which manifests itself in some single
great and splendid crisis. It is not found on the battle-field where
regiments dash forward upon blazing batteries, and in ten minutes are
either conquerors or corpses. It is not seen at the stake of martyrdom,
where, for the sake of opinion, men for a few moments endure the
unimaginable tortures of the flames. It is not found in the courtly
tournaments of the past, where knights, in glittering armor, flung the
furious lance of defiance into the face of their foe. Splendid, heroic,
are these all. But there is a heroism grander still; it is the heroism
which endures, not merely for a moment, but through the hard and bitter
toils of a life-time; which, when the inspiration of the crisis has
passed away, and weary years of hardship stretch their stony path before
tired feet, cheerfully takes up the burden of life, undaunted and
undismayed. In all the annals of the brave, who, in all times, have
suffered and endured, there is no scene more touching than the picture
of this widow toiling for her children.
The annals of this period of life in the Garfield cabin are simple. But
biography, when it has for its theme one of the loftiest men that ever
lived, loves to busy itself with the details of his childhood and to try
to trace in them the indications of future greatness. The picture of
that life has been given by the dauntless woman herself. In the spring
of the year, the little corn patch was broken up with an old-fashioned
wooden plow with an iron share. At first the ox-team was mostly driven
by the widow herself, but Tom, the oldest boy, soon learned to divide
the labor. The baby was left with his older sister, while the mother and
older son worked at the plow, or dragged a heavy tree branch—a primitive
harrow—over the clods. When the seed was to be put in, it was by the
same hands. The garden, with its precious store of potatoes, beans, and
cabbages, came in for no small share of attention, for these were the
luxuries of the frugal table. From the first Tom was able largely to
attend to the few head of stock on the little place. When a hog was to
be killed for curing, some neighbor was given a share to perform the act
of slaughter. The mysteries of smoking and curing the various parts were
well understood by Mrs. Garfield. At harvest, also, the neighbors would
lend a hand, the men helping in the field, and the women at the cabin
preparing dinner. Of butter, milk, and eggs, the children always had a
good supply, even if the table was in other respects meager. There was a
little orchard, planted by the father, which thrived immensely. In a
year or two the trees were laden with rosy fruit. Cherries, plums, and
apples peeped out from their leafy homes. The gathering was the
children’s job, and they made it a merry one.
From the first the Garfield children performed tasks beyond their years.
Corn-planting, weed-pulling, potato-digging, and the countless jobs
which have to be performed on every farm, were shared by them. The first
winter was one of the bitterest privation. The supplies were so scanty
that the mother, unobserved by the four hungry little folks, would often
give her share of the meal to them. But after the first winter, the
bitter edge of poverty wore off. The executive ability of the little
widow began to tell on the family affairs. In the following spring, the
mortgage on the place was canceled by selling off fifty of the eighty
acres. In the absence of money, the mother made exchanges of work—sewing
for groceries, spinning for cotton, and washing for shoes. In time, too,
the children came to be a valuable help.
But though this life was busy and a hard one, it was not _all_ that
occupied the attention of the family. The Garfield cabin had an inner
life; a life of thought and love as well as of economy and work. Mrs.
Garfield had a head for books as well as business. Her husband and
herself had been members of the Church of the Disciples, followers of
Alexander Campbell. In her widowhood, for years she and her children
never missed a sabbath in attending the church three miles away. If ever
there was an earnest, honest Christian, Eliza Garfield was one. A short,
cheerful prayer each morning, no matter how early she and the children
rose, a word of thankfulness at the beginning of every meal, no matter
how meager, and a thoughtful, quiet Bible-reading and prayer at night,
formed part of that cabin life. Feeling keenly the poor advantages of
the children in the way of education, she told them much of history and
the world, and thus around her knee they learned from the loving teacher
lessons not taught in any college. When James was five years old, his
older sister for awhile carried him on her back to the log school-house,
a mile and a half distant, at a place dignified with the name of a
village, though it contained only a store, blacksmith shop, and the
school. But the school was too far away. The enterprise of Mrs. Garfield
was nowhere better shown than in her offering the land, and securing a
school-house on her own farm. She was determined on her children having
the best education the wilderness afforded, and they had it.
But the four children were strangely different. They had the same
ancestry, and the same surroundings. Who could have foretold the wide
difference of their destinies? The girls were cheerful, industrious, and
loving. They were fair scholars at the country school, and were much
thought of in the neighborhood. At a very early age they took from the
tired mother’s shoulders a large share of the work of the little
household. They carded, spun, wove, and mended the boys’ clothes when
they were but children themselves. They beautified the rough little
home, and added a cheery joy to its plain surroundings. They were
superior to the little society in which they mingled, but not above it.
There were apple-parings, corn-huskings, quilting-bees, apple-butter and
maple-sugar boilings, in which they were the ringleaders of
mischief—romping, cheerful, healthy girls, happy in spite of adversity,
ambitious only to make good wives and mothers.
Thomas, the elder brother, was a Garfield out and out. He was a
plodding, self-denying, quiet boy, with the tenderest love for his
mother, and without an ambition beyond a farmer’s life. When the other
children went to school, he staid at home “to work,” he said, “so that
the girls and James might get an education.” For himself he “would do
without it.” Wise, thoughtful, and patient, he was the fit successor of
the generations of Garfields who had held the plow-handle before he was
born. Without a complaint, of his own will he worked year after year,
denying himself every thing that could help his brother James to
education and an ambitious manhood. For from the first, mother and
children felt that in the youngest son lay the hope of the family.
James took precociously to books, learning to read early, and knowing
the English reader almost by heart _at eight years of age_. His first
experience at the school built on the home farm is worth noting. The
seats were hard, the scene new and exciting, and his stout little frame
tingled with restrained energy. He squirmed, twisted, writhed, peeped
under the seats and over his shoulder; tied his legs in a knot, then
untied them; hung his head backwards till the blood almost burst forth,
and in a thousand ways manifested his restlessness. Reproofs did no
good. At last the well-meaning teacher told James’s mother that nothing
could be made of the boy. With tears in her eyes the fond, ambitious
mother talked to the little fellow that night in the fire-light. The
victory was a triumph of love. The boy returned to school, still
restless, but studious as well. At the end of the term he received a
copy of the New Testament as a prize for being the best reader in the
school. The restlessness, above mentioned, seems to have followed him
through life. Sleeping with his brother he would kick the cover off at
night, and then say, “Thomas, cover me up.” A military friend relates
that, during the civil war, after a day of terrible bloodshed, lying
with a distinguished officer, the cover came off in the old way, and he
murmured in his sleep, “Thomas, cover me up.” Wakened by the sound of
his own voice, he became aware of what he had said; and then, thinking
of the old cabin life, and the obscure but tender-hearted brother,
General Garfield burst into tears, and wept himself to sleep.
The influences surrounding the first ten or twelve years of life are apt
to be underestimated. But it can not be doubted that the lessons of
child-life learned in the cabin and on the little farm had more to do
with Garfield’s future greatness than all his subsequent education. Like
each of his parents, he was left without a father at the age of two
years. If any one class of men have more universally risen to prominence
than another it has been widow’s sons. The high sense of responsibility,
the habits of economy and toil, are a priceless experience. None is to
be pitied more than the child of luxury and fortune, and no one suspects
his disadvantages less. Hated poverty is, after all, the nursery of
greatness. The discipline which would have crushed a weak soul only
served to strengthen the rugged and vigorous nature of this boy.
The stories which come down to us of Garfield’s childhood, though not
remarkable, show that he was different from the boys around him. He had
a restless, aspiring mind, fond of strong food. Every hint of the
outside world fascinated him, and roused the most pertinacious
curiosity. Yet to this wide-eyed interest in what lay outside of his
life this shock-haired, bare-legged boy added an indomitable zeal for
work. From dawn to dark he toiled; but whether chopping wood, working in
the field or at the barn, it was always with the idea and inspiration
that he was “helping mother.” Glorious loyalty of boyhood!
CHAPTER II.
THE STRUGGLE OF BOYHOOD.
_Socrates._—Alcibiades, what sayest thou that is, passing between us
and yon wall?
_Alcibiades._—I should call it a thing; some call it a boy.
_Soc._—Nay, I call it neither a thing nor a boy, but rather a young
man. By Hercules, if I should go further, I should say that that
being is a god in embryo!
_Alc._—You are my master, Socrates, or I should say that nature
would have hard work to hatch a god out of such an object.
_Soc._—Most men are fools, Alcibiades, because they are unable to
discover in the germ, or even in the growing stalk, the vast
possibilities of development. They forget the beauty of growth; and,
therefore, they reckon not that nature and discipline are able to
make yon boy as one of the immortals.
So the child James Garfield advanced into the golden age of boyhood.
This period we will now briefly live over after him. Spring time deepens
into early summer; the branches and the leaves are swollen with life’s
young sap; what manner of fruit will this growing tree offer the
creative sun to work upon?
The young lad, in whom our interest centers, was now, in the autumn of
1843, twelve years old, when something new came into his life, and gave
to him his first definite and well-fixed purpose. He had always, and by
nature, been industrious. In that little farm home, where poverty strove
continually to carry the day against the combined forces of industry and
economy, no service was without its value. And, therefore, it had
doubtless been a delight to all in that narrow circle to observe in
James the qualities of a good worker. He seemed a true child of that
wonderful western country which is yet so young, and so able to turn its
energies to advantage in every available way. So, while still too young
to “make a hand” at anything, James had found his place wherever there
was demand for such light duties as he was able to perform. At field,
barn or cabin, in garden or in kitchen, place there was none where the
little fellow’s powers were not exercised. Instinct with forces larger
than his frame, development of them was inevitable.
[Illustration: GARFIELD AT SIXTEEN.]
But now a great event in the family took place. Thomas, who had just
attained his majority, had returned from a trip to Michigan with a sum
of ready money, and wanted to build his mother a new house. Life in the
cabin had, in his estimation, been endured long enough. Some of the
materials for a frame building were already accumulated, and under the
directions of a carpenter the work was begun and rapidly pushed to
completion. In all these proceedings James took an intense interest, and
developed such a liking for tools and timber as could but signify a
member of the Builders’ Guild. He resolved to be a carpenter; and from
this day on was never for a moment without an object in life.
The ambition to “be something” took many different turns, but was a
force which, once created, could never be put down. The care and skill
requisite to putting a house together, fitting the rafters into place,
and joining part to part with mathematical precision, gave him an idea
that these things were of a higher order than farm labor. Plain digging
would no longer do; there must be a better chance to contrive something,
to conjure up plans and ways and means in the brain, and show forth
ideas by the skill of the hand. Consequently a variety of tools began to
accumulate about James Garfield. There was a corner somewhere which, in
imitation of the great carpenter who built their house, he called his
“shop;” a rough bench, perhaps, with a few planes, and mallets, and
chisels, and saws, and the like, to help in mending the gates and doors
about the place. No independent farm can get along without such help,
and of course these services were in constant demand.
The dexterity thus acquired soon led to earnings abroad. The first money
Garfield ever received in this way was one dollar, which the village
carpenter paid him for planing a hundred boards at a cent apiece. His
active and earnest performance of every duty brought him plenty of
offers, and between the ages of twelve and fifteen years he helped to
put up a number of buildings in that district of country, some of which
are standing to this day.
Thus this young life passed away the precious time of the early teens.
Work and study; study and work. Hands and feet, marrow and muscle, all
steadily engaged in the rugged discipline of labor, battling with nature
for subsistence. But time rolls on; childhood fast recedes from that
glory from the other side which fringes the dawn; and, as we move on,
every rising sun wakes up a new idea. While our young friend gave his
attention and strength to industry, his imagination began to live in a
new world. He had been to school, and still went a few months each year;
and the following incident will indicate what a good-hearted, bright
school-boy he was. There was a spelling-match in the little log
school-house, in which James, who was thirteen years old, took part. The
teacher told the scholars that if they whispered she would send them
home. The lad standing next to James got confused, and to help him James
told him how to spell the word. The teacher saw this, and said: “James,
you know the rule; you must go home.” James picked up his cap and left.
In a very few seconds he returned and took his place in the class. “Why,
how is this, James? I told you to go home,” said his teacher. “I know
it, and I went home,” said James.
But the log school-house, with its mystery of the three R’s, was not
sufficient. James was one of the boys who are born to the love of books.
Whatever had an intelligent aspect, whatever thing had the color and
glow of an idea, was by nature attractive to his mind, and this he
sought with eagerness and zeal. Therefore, even before the boy could
read, his mother had read to him; and afterwards winter evening and
leisure summer hour alike went swiftly by. The scholar in him hungered
for the scholar’s meat and drink; which means books, and books, and
never enough of them.
These people did not have many volumes, but they used them only the
more, and knew them the better. Among them all, first in their
affections, was the Bible. The woman, whose staff at eighty, when bowed
down under the great sorrow, was the Everlasting Word, loved the Bible
in her youth, and led her children to it as to a fountain of pure water.
Thus James early acquired some knowledge of the old Bible stories, and
it is said was somewhat fond of showing his superior learning. This he
did by asking his little friends profound questions, such as: “Who slew
Absalom?” “What cities were destroyed with fire and brimstone from the
sky?” And when all had professed ignorance, he would invite their
admiration by a revelation of the facts.
At this period of time, however, it is likely that his lively
imagination was more vividly impressed with two or three other books
which had found their places on the book-shelf of the house—books of
adventure, with their thrilling scenes, their deeds of danger, dashing
and gallant. And accordingly it is related that about this time James
Garfield became deeply interested in the life of Napoleon, as told by
Grimshaw. How eagerly he must have followed out the magical story of
that wonderful career of glory and blood through all its varied
windings; seeing first a young Corsican lieutenant on the road to Paris,
by sudden and brilliant successes rising quickly, step by step, but ever
on the run, to be First Consul of the new French Republic, and then
Emperor. Austerlitz, its carnage, its awful crisis, and its splendid
victory; the terrible Russian campaign, with the untold horrors of that
memorable retreat before the fierce troops of Cossack riders; on, and
ever on through the changing fields of bright transfigurations and the
Cimmerian darkness of defeat, down to the fell catastrophe at
Waterloo,—and young Garfield lived and moved in it all, like an old
soldier of the Imperial Legion. Another brave old book he knew was a
“Life of Marion,” which had the added interest of telling the story of
our own first great struggle for liberty. No wonder then, that, with
such food for wild fancies as these at hand, James felt in his veins the
hot blood of a martial hero, and resolved aloud, before his laughing
relatives, that he meant to “be a soldier, and win great battles, as
Napoleon did.”
But the smoke of battle was yet afar off. So on flew the winter days and
nights at more than lightning speed, in hours of work and school, books
and dreams, and all the myriad modes and moods of human life. So, too,
passed the summer time, whose busy labors preserved the family from
want. Our young farmer and carpenter kept ever at the post of duty.
Pressed by necessity from without, moved from within by the growing
restlessness of a spirit which fed on stories of adventure, a nervous
and ceaseless activity pushed him steadily forward to the new
experiences which only waited for his coming. Another motive, more to
the credit of his goodness of heart, which kept James busy, was that
deathless love for his mother which, from the beginning, was the chief
fountain of all good in his life. He knew how the faithful widow had
lived and worked only for her children; that her hopes were bound up in
their fortunes; and he determined that, as for him, she should not be
disappointed. With this high purpose in mind, he worked on,—worked on
the farm, labored on the neighboring farms, exercised his carpentering
skill in country and in village, till his friends proudly said: “James
Garfield is the most industrious boy in his neighborhood; there is not a
lazy hair on his head.”
When about fifteen years old, in the course of his trade, he was called
on to assist in the building of an addition to a house, for a man who
lived several miles away from the home farm. This man, whose business
was that of a “black-salter,” noticed the peculiar activity and
ingenuity displayed by James in his work, and took a liking to him.
Being in need of such a person, he offered him his board and fourteen
dollars a month to stay with him, help in the saltery, and superintend
the financial part of the concern. After some meditation, and a
consultation on the subject at home, James accepted the offer. This was
against the judgment of Mrs. Garfield, whose advice was, at least,
always respectfully heard, though not always followed. In this business
he succeeded well, and was expected, by his employer, to make a
first-class salter. But the spirit of adventure again revived in him.
There came a new book, and a new epoch, and the old wish to become an
American Napoleon took a fresh turn. He saw no way to be a soldier. The
peaceful progress of the Ohio country, fast developing in agriculture
and its attendant industries, did not offer very good opportunity for a
great campaign, and military leadership was, therefore, not in demand.
In this unfortunate conjuncture of civil surroundings with uncivil
ambitions, James began to read books about the sea. “Jack Halyard” took
the place of General Marion; white sails began to spread themselves in
his brain; the story of Nelson and Trafalgar, and the like men and
things began to take shape in his thought as the central facts of
history; and a life on the ocean wave hung aloft before him as the
summit of every aspiration worth a moment’s entertainment. Through all
these notions we can see only a reflection of the books he read. Give a
child its first look at the world through blue spectacles, and the world
will be blue to the child; give a boy his first ideas of the world
beyond his neighborhood by means of soldiers and navies, and he will be
soldier and sailor at once. James was now approaching the age of sixteen
years. New force was added to the sea-fever by a work named “The
Pirate’s Own Book.” New tales of adventure stirred his blood; he could
even sympathize with the triumphs of a bold buccaneer, and with the
Corsair sing:
“Oh! who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o’er the waters wide,
The exulting sense, the pulse’s maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?”
While in this brittle state of mind no great provocation would he need
to produce a break with the black-salter. Accordingly, an insult, which
soon offered, led to a scene and a departure. Some member of the family
alluded to James as a “servant.” In an instant his warm blood rose to
fever heat; he refused to stay another hour where such things could be
said of him. The employer’s stock of eloquence was too small to change
the fiery youth’s mind; and that night he slept again beneath his
mother’s roof.
Hitherto the forces and facts which rested in and about James A.
Garfield had kept him near home; the outward tending movement now became
powerful, and struggled for control. With the passion for the sea at its
height, he began to consider the situation. At home was the dear mother
with her great longing that he should love books, go to school, and
become a man among men, educated, a leader, and peer of the best in
character and intellect. And how could he leave her? The struggle for
life had not yet become easy on the farm, and his absence would be felt.
“Leave us not,” pleads the home. “The sea, land-lubber, the wide, free
ocean,” says the buccaneer within. At this point, while he reflected at
home on these things, being out of employment, a new incident occurred.
Our young friend had now acquired something more than the average
strength of a full-grown man. Born of a hardy race, constant exercise of
so many kinds was giving him extraordinary physical power. So he felt
equal to the opportunity which offered itself, and became a
wood-chopper. Twenty-five cords of wood were rapidly cut for a reward of
seven dollars. The place where this was done was near Newburg, a small
town close to Cleveland. During this time his mother hoped and prayed
that the previous intention of her son, to go to the lake and become a
sailor, would weaken, and that he would be led to remain at home; but
fate decreed otherwise. The scene of his wood-cutting exploit was close
to the lake shore, where the vessels passed at every hour. The
excitement within him, as each sail went out beyond the horizon, never
ceased. The story never grew old. The pirate had not died, but still
plotted for plunder, and hungered for black flags, cutlasses and blood.
No doubt Garfield would have been a good-hearted corsair—one of the
generous fellows who plundered Spanish galleons just because their gain
had been ill-gotten; who spared the lives and restored the money of the
innocent, gave no quarter to the real villains, and never let a fair
woman go unrescued.
Returning home from Newburg to see his mother, she persuaded him to
remain a while longer. Harvest-time would soon approach, and his
services were needed on the farm. Of course, he stayed; helped them
through the season, and even spent some extra time working for a
neighbor. But the facts of a boy’s future sometimes can not be changed
by circumstances. A firm-set resolve may be hindered long, but not
forever. James Garfield had set his head to be a sailor, and a sailor he
would be. Farming was a very good business, no doubt, and just the thing
for the brother Thomas, but by no means suited to a young salt like
himself.
Now, bright blue waves of Erie, dash against your shores with glee, and
rise to meet your coming conqueror! The last family prayer was uttered,
the good-bye kiss was given; and mother Garfield stood in the low
doorway, peering out through the mists of morning, to catch a last
glimpse of the boy who has just received her parting blessing. The story
of that memorable time is already well known. With a bundle of clothes
on a stick, thrown across his sturdy shoulder, he trudged along,
sometimes wearily, but always cheerily, bound for the harbor of
Cleveland. The way was probably void of noteworthy incidents; and, with
his thoughts all absorbed on what he believed to be his coming
experiences on deck, he arrived at Cleveland. It was an evening in July
of 1848. The next morning, after due refreshment and a walk about the
city, being determined on an immediate employment, he lost no more time
in hastening toward the rolling deep. Boarding the only vessel in port
at the time, he strolled about and waited for the appearance of his
intended captain. The experience of that hour was never forgotten.
Garfield’s ideas of a sailor had thus far chiefly come out of books, and
Jack, as a swearing tar, he was not prepared to meet. Presently a
confused sound came up from the hold, first faintly muttering, then
swelling in volume as it came nearer and nearer. Uncertainty about the
matter soon ceased, however, as the “noble captain’s” head appeared,
from which were issuing rapid volleys of oaths, fired into space,
probably, as a salute to the glorious god of day. Rough in looks, rude
in manners, a coarse and petty tyrant on the water, and a drunkard both
there and on land, this bloated individual was not the one to greet a
green and awkward boy with soft words. Glad to see a new object for his
hitherto objectless oaths, he inquired Garfield’s business there, in
language not well shaped to courtesy nor kindness. The offer of his
services was made, however, as James was not disposed to back out of any
thing; but he was informed that they had no use for him, and obliged to
retire in confusion, amid the continued curses of a magnanimous
commander, and the profane laughter of an uncouth group of the
commanded.
At this moment of time the reader will pause to reflect and consider on
what a delicate balance hangs the history of the world, and the men who
make the world. “Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!” The
results of that day’s experience at Cleveland are written in every
public event that ever felt the force of Garfield’s molding influence.
Senates owed a name which raised their reputation, armies owed their
victories to the drunken vulgarity of an Erie captain! That was
Garfield’s _first_ day in Cleveland. You who know the future, which has
now become the past, think, and compare it with his _last_ day there!
Having beat an inglorious retreat from the lake, James was now forced to
confront a new and unexpected difficulty. First, he became sensible that
his treatment there had probably arisen principally from his rustic
appearance; and the notion came close behind that the same scene was
liable to be enacted if he should try again. He had plenty of pluck, but
also a good stock of prudence. Go home he would not, at least till he
had by some means conquered defeat. “What shall I do next?” he muttered
as he sauntered along. He had already learned, by inquiries in town
during the day, that work there would be difficult to get. In this
perplexity, as in every doubtful situation in the world, when
difficulties are met by determination, a clear way out came to him. The
problem was solved thus: “I’m going to be a sailor. But the ocean is too
far away, and I must make my way there by lake, meanwhile learning what
I can about the business. But I can’t go on the lake now,—and there’s
nothing left me but the muddy canal. I will go first by way of the
canal, meanwhile learning what I can about the business.” To the canal
he turned his tired steps.
It was the old Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal; and he found, by rare good
fortune, a boat ready to start, and in need of a driver. The captain of
this less ambitious navigating affair proved to be not quite so rich in
profanity, but more wealthy in good-natured sympathy; his name was Amos
Letcher, and he was Garfield’s cousin. To this man James told the story
of his experience thus far, and asked employment on the boat. The result
was a contract to drive mules. Letcher became much interested in his
young friend, and is authority for some good stories about this
“voyage.”
When the time came to start, the _Evening Star_ was brought up to the
first lock, and after some delay got through. On the other side waited
the mule-team and its impatient driver, who was eager for the trip to
begin. In a few hours he would be farther from home than ever in his
life before, traveling a path which led he knew not whither.
Practically, they were bound for Pittsburgh. To his imagination, it was
a trip around the world. So the whip was flourished triumphantly, and
this circumnavigation committee of one was on his way.
Directly a boat approached from the opposite direction. Jim bungled, in
his excitement, and got his lines tangled. While he stopped to get
things straight, the boat came up even with him, leaving the tow-line
slack for several yards. Eased of their load, the mules trotted on
quickly to the extent of the line, when, with a sudden jerk, the boat
caught on a bridge they were passing, and team, driver, and all were in
the canal.
The boy, however, was not disconcerted, but climbed out, and, amid loud
laughter from those on board, proceeded coolly along as if it had been a
regular morning bath.
The rough men of the canal were fond of a fight, and always ready at
fisticuffs. One of the most frequent occasions of these difficulties was
at the locks, where but one boat could pass at a time. When two boats
were approaching from opposite directions each always tried to get there
first, so as to have the right to go through before the other. This was
a prolific source of trouble.
As the _Evening Star_ approached lock twenty-one at Akron, one of these
scenes was threatened. An opposite boat came up just as Letcher was
about to turn the lock for his own. The other got in first. Letcher’s
men all sprang out for a fight. Just then Jim walked up to the captain
and said, “Does the right belong to us?” “No, I guess not; but we’ve
started in for it, and we are going to have it anyhow.” “No, sir,” said
Garfield. “I say we will _not_ have it. I will not fight to keep them
out of their rights.” This brought the captain to his senses, and he
ordered his men to give room for the enemy to pass.
There was half-mutiny on board that night, and many uncomplimentary
remarks about the young driver. He was a coward, they said. Was he a
coward? Or simply a just, fair-minded youth, and as brave as any of
them? He made up his mind to show them which he was, when a good time
came.
The captain had defended Jim from these accusations of the men, for a
reason unknown to them. The boy had _whipped him_ before they came to
Akron. It was after a change of teams, and Jim was on the boat. Letcher
was a self-confident young man, who had recently been a school teacher
in Steuben County, Indiana, and felt as if all knowledge was his
province. He had made all his men revere him for his learning, and now
was the time to overwhelm the new driver.
So, sitting down near where the lad was resting, he said: “Jim, I
believe you have been to school some, and as I have not heard a class
lately, I will ask you some questions to see where you are, if you don’t
care.”
[Illustration: GARFIELD ON THE TOW-PATH.]
James assented. Pedagogue Letcher thought his time had come; he searched
out witty inventions; he asked deep questions; he would open this
youngling’s eyes. The examination did not last long, for all questions
were quickly answered, and the quizzer ran out of materials; his stock
of puzzlers was exhausted.
Then the tables turned. The tailor was out-tailored in three minutes,
for in that time James had asked him seven questions which he could not
answer. Hence the captain’s allowance for the boy’s refusal to fight.
Letcher knew enough to appreciate the reason.
The _Evening Star_ had a long trip before her, as the present load
consisted of copper ore consigned to Pittsburgh. This ore came down to
Cleveland first in schooners from Lake Superior, where those great
treasuries of ore, which still seem inexhaustible, were at that time
just beginning to become important interests. The habit of the
canal-boatmen was to take up the copper at Cleveland, carry it to
Pittsburgh, and bring back loads of coal. Garfield’s first experience
here must have given him new ideas of the growing industries of his
country. This constant and immense carrying trade between distant places
indicated the play of grand forces; these great iron foundries and
factories at Pittsburgh betokened millions of active capital, thousands
of skilled workmen, and fast-increasing cities abounding in wonders and
in wealth. Whatever the immediate result of Garfield’s canal life might
have been, whether the boatmen had voted him coward or general, one fact
must have remained—the mental stimulus imparted from these things which
he had seen. Then must have dawned upon him for the first time a sense
of the unmeasured possibilities which lay before his own country. Tramp,
tramp the mules; lock after lock has been left behind, each turn
bringing a new landscape, and the young driver pushed bravely on,
self-reliant, patient, and popular with all the men. For these rough
comrades liked him from the first as a pleasant fellow, and soon admired
him as well. Opportunity came to him on the way to prove himself their
equal in fighting qualities, and more than their equal in generosity.
The occasion was one the like of which he often knew, where he came off
victor with the odds favoring his enemies. At Beaver, from a point where
the boats were towed up to Pittsburgh by steamboat, the _Evening Star_
was about to be taken in. As Garfield stood in the bow of the boat, a
burly Irishman, named Dave Murphy, who stood a few feet behind, was
accidentally struck by a flying piece of rope from the steamer, which
had evaded Garfield and gone over his head. No harm was done, but Murphy
was a bully who saw here a good chance for a fight. He was thirty-five
years old, Garfield sixteen. Turning on the boy in a towering rage, he
aimed a blow with all his strength. But as sometimes occurs to men with
more brawn than brains, he soon discovered that in this case Providence
was _not_ “on the side of the heavy battalions.” By a dexterous motion
James eluded his antagonist, at the same instant planting a blow behind
the fellow’s ear which sent him spinning into the bottom of the boat.
Before the man could recover, his young antagonist held him down by the
throat. The boatmen cheered the boy on; according to their rules of
pugilism, satisfaction was not complete till a man’s features were
pounded to a jelly. “Give him a full dose, Jim;” “Rah fer Garfield!” The
two men arise; what does this mean? The Murphy face has not been
disfigured; the Murphy nose bleeds not! Slowly the astonished men take
in a new fact. Generosity has won the day, and brutality itself has been
vanquished before their eyes. From that hour James became one of the
heroes of the tow-path; and the day he left it was a day of regret to
all his new acquaintances there.
On the way back from Pittsburgh a vacancy occurred on deck; Garfield was
promoted to the more responsible position of bowman, and the mules found
a new master. So the ocean drew one step nearer; this was not exactly
the sea, of course, but after all it was a little more like sailing. Up
and down the narrow course, following all its windings, the _Evening
Star_ pursued its way without serious accident, and James Garfield stood
at the bow till November of 1848. Then came a change. New things were
preparing for him, and all unknown to him old things were passing away.
The mother at home still watched for her boy; the mother at home still
prayed for her son, and yearned for a fulfillment of her steadfast
desire that he should be such a man as she had begun to dream of him
when he was a little child. An accident now brought him home to her. The
position of bowman on the _Evening Star_ was rather an unsafe one. The
place where James stood was narrow and often slippery, and, in a brief
period of time, he had fallen into the water fourteen times. The last
immersion chanced in the following manner: One night as the boat
approached a lock the bowman was hastily awakened, and tumbled out half
asleep to attend to his duty. Uncoiling a rope which was to assist in
steadying the boat through, he lost his balance, and in a second found
himself in a now familiar place at the bottom of the canal. The night
was dark, and no help near. Struggling about, his hand accidentally
clutched a section of the rope which had gone over with him. Now, James,
pull for your life, hand over hand; fight for yourself, fight for
another visit to home and mother. Strength began to fail. The rope slid
off; swim he could not. Jerk, jerk; the rope has caught. Pulling away
with a will, he climbed back to his place, and found that he had been
saved by a splinter in a plank in which the rope had caught by a knot.
Such a narrow escape might well stir up the most lethargic brain to new
and strange reflections; but to the active intellect and bright
imagination of James A. Garfield it brought a profound impression, a
fresh resolution and a new sphere of action. He saw himself rescued by a
chance which might have failed him a thousand times. Might not this be
in answer to a mother’s prayer? Was it possible that he had been saved
for some better fortune than his present life promised? He recalled the
vague ambitions which had at times stirred him for a career of
usefulness, such as he knew his mother had in mind for him.
When the boat neared home again, James bade good-bye to the _Evening
Star_. Now, farewell visions of the Atlantic; farewell swearing captain
of the lake; farewell raging canal, for this sailor lad is lost to you
forever. The romantic element of his character indeed was not destroyed,
as it never could be; nor was the glamour of the sea quite gone. It
would take the winter of sickness which was before him to remove all
nautical aspirations. Arriving before the old gate one night while the
stars were out in all their glory, he softly raised the latch, and
walked up to the house. Never was happier mother than greeted him at
that door. Mrs. Garfield felt that her triumph was now at hand; and set
herself to secure it at once.
Four hard months of life on and in the canal had told heavily on the
young man’s constitution. Four months more ague and fever held him fast;
four months more he longed in vain for the vigor of health. During this
dreary time one voice above all others comforted, cheered, and swayed
his drooping spirits, and helped him back to a contented mood. In
conversation and in song, the mother was his chief entertainer. Indeed,
Mrs. Garfield had not only a singing voice of splendid quality, but also
knew a marvelous number of songs; and James said, later in life, that he
believed she could have sung many more songs consecutively, from memory,
than her physical powers would have permitted. Songs in every kind of
humor,—ballads, war songs (especially of 1812) and hymns with their
sacred melody—these she had at command in exhaustless stores. And we may
be sure that such sweet skill was not without its power on her children.
That voice had been the dearest music James ever heard in childhood, and
his ear was well fitted to its every tone; escape from its power was
hopeless now if he had even wished it so.
Meanwhile the past receded, and new plans for the future were unfolding.
It is interesting to notice how smoothly, and all unknown to ourselves,
we sometimes pass over the lines which mark the periods of our lives.
The manner of Garfield’s present experience was no exception to the
rule.
Samuel D. Bates was a young man, not many years older than James A.
Garfield. He was a good scholar, and had been attending a place called
“Geauga Seminary,” which had grown up in the adjoining county. This
winter he had taken the school on the Garfield farm, expecting to save
some money and return to Geauga. With his head full of these ideas, he
met Garfield, and soon had the latter interested in his plans. When the
time came for the next term to begin, James was well again, and his
mother and Bates proposed that he should go also. He thought the subject
over carefully, but was still uncertain what to do. He was not sure of
his capacity to turn an education to account, and did not wish to spoil
a good carpenter for the sake of a bad professor or preacher. Before
making a final decision, he therefore did a characteristically sensible
thing. Dr. J. P. Robison was a physician of Bedford, a man well known
for good judgment and skill in his profession. One day he was visited by
an awkward country lad, who asked a private conversation with him, and,
that favor being granted, said to him: “My name is James Garfield. My
home is at Orange. Hitherto I have acquired only the rudiments of an
education, and but a scanty knowledge of books. But, at this time, I
have taken up the notion of getting an education, and, before beginning,
I want to know what I have to count on. You are a physician, and know
men well. Examine me, and say plainly whether you think I will be able
to succeed.”
This frank speech was rewarded by as fair an answer. The physician
sounded him well, as to both body and mind, and ended with an opinion
which summed up in about this fashion: “You are well fitted to follow
your ambition as far as you are pleased to go. Your brain is large and
good; your physique is adapted to hard work. Go ahead, and you are sure
to succeed.”
This settled the question at once and forever. Garfield the student, the
thinker, the teacher, the preacher, and the statesman, are all included
in this new direction, and time alone is wanting to reveal them to
himself and to the world.
Geauga Seminary was situated at a place called Chester, in Geauga
County. The faculty consisted of three men and as many women. They were:
Daniel Branch and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Coffin, Mr. Bigelow, and Miss
Abigail Curtis. In the second year of Garfield’s attendance, Mr. and
Mrs. Branch retired, and were succeeded by Mr. Fowler and Mr. Beach. The
students were about one hundred in number, and of both sexes. There was
a library of one hundred and fifty volumes, and a literary society,
which offered a chance for practice in writing and speaking. Knowing
these facts, and that the seminary offered the advantages common to many
such institutions, we know the circumstances under which Garfield began
that course of studies which, in seven years, graduated him with honor
from an Eastern college.
There went with him to Chester two other friends besides Bates—one his
cousin, William Boynton, the other a lad named Orrin H. Judd. These
three being all poor boys, they arranged to live cheaply. Garfield
himself had only seventeen dollars, which Thomas and his mother had
saved for him to begin on; and he expected to make that go a long way by
working at his old carpenter trade at odd hours, as well as by economy
in spending money. So the trio kept “bachelors’ hall” in a rough shanty,
which they fitted up with some articles brought from home; and a poor
woman near by cooked their meals for some paltry sum.
There came a time when even this kind of life was thought extravagant.
Garfield had read an autobiography of Henry C. Wright, who related a
tale about supporting life on bread and crackers. So they dismissed
their French cook, and did the work themselves. This did not last long,
but it showed them what they could do.
“What tho’ on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin gray, and a’ that;
Gie fools their silks and knaves their wine,
A man’s a man for a’ that!”
Life at college on such a scale as this lacks polish, but may contain
power. The labors which James A. Garfield performed at this academy, in
the one term, from his arrival on March 6, 1849, to the end, were
probably more than equal to the four years’ studies of many a college
graduate. He never forgot a moment the purpose for which he was there.
Every recitation found his work well done; every meeting of the literary
society knew his presence and heard his voice. The library was his
favorite corner of the building. A new world was to be conquered in
every science, a new country in every language. Thus a year passed, and
Garfield’s first term at Geauga was ended. During the summer vacation he
was constantly busy; first he helped his brother to build a barn at
home, then turned back for a season to his old business as a
wood-cutter, and then worked in the harvest-field. About the latter a
good story remains to us. With two well-grown, but young,
school-fellows, James applied to a farmer who needed more hands, asking
employment. The farmer thought them rather too young for the business;
but, as they offered to work for “whatever he thought right,” he agreed,
thinking it would not be much. But they had swung the scythe before, and
soon made it a warm task for the other men to keep even with them. The
old man looked on in mute admiration for a while, and finally said to
the beaten men: “You fellows had better look to your laurels; them boys
are a beatin’ ye all holler.” The men, thus incited to do their best,
worked hard; but they had begun a losing battle, and the Garfield crowd
kept its advantage. When settling time came round, these “boys” were
paid men’s full wages.
Having, in these ways, saved enough money to begin on, James began the
fall term at Geauga. Here he still pursued the same plan of alternate
work and study, inching along the best he could. His boarding
accommodations were furnished by a family named Stiles, for one dollar
and six cents a week. The landlady, Mrs. Stiles, is made responsible for
a story which illustrates how nearly penniless James was all this time.
He had only one suit of clothes, and no underclothing. But toward the
end of the term, his well-worn pantaloons split at the knee, as he bent
over one day, and the result was a rent of appalling proportions, which
the pin, with which he tried to mend matters, failed to conceal. Mrs.
Stiles kindly undertook to assist him out of his trouble while he was
asleep that night. But the time soon came when, though still poor,
Garfield was beyond danger of being put in such straights again. For,
even before the time came to go home again, he had paid his expenses and
purchased a few books. One piece of work which he did at this time was
to plane all the boards for the siding of a house, being paid two cents
a board.
About the first of November James applied for an examination, and
received a certificate of fitness to teach school. One whole year was
gone since the sea-vision vanished, and his means for support in the new
life had been made chiefly by the unaided force of his own tough
muscles. Enough capital of a new kind had now accumulated to become
productive, and he determined, for the future, to make money out of the
knowledge in his head, as well as out of the strength and skill of his
arm. The time for opening the country schools was come, and the young
man made several applications to school trustees near his home, but
found no place where he was wanted. Returning home discouraged, he found
that an offer was waiting for him. He took the contract to teach the
Ledge school, near by, for twelve dollars a month and board.
This school was one of those unfortunate seats of learning so often
found in rural districts, where teachers are habitually ousted each term
by the big boy terrible. For James Garfield, not yet quite eighteen
years old, this would be a trying situation, but we already know enough
about him to feel confident that he can not easily be put down. His
difficulties were, however, peculiarly great; for, though a prophet, he
was in his own country, and the scholars were not likely to be forward
in showing respect to “Jim Gaffil.” It was the old story, which many a
man who has taught country school can parallel in his own experience.
First came insubordination, then correction, then more fight, followed
by a signal victory, and at last Master Garfield was master of the
situation. Then came success, his reward for hard study and hard blows.
The Ledge prospered, its teacher became popular; and, when the time came
to close, he did so, satisfied with himself, and possessor of a neat
little sum of money.
Garfield went back to Geauga that year as planned. Early in 1851 he had
his first ride on a railroad train. Taking passage on a train of the
Cleveland and Columbus road, then new, he went, with his mother, to
Columbus. There the representative to the legislature from Geauga
County, Gamaliel Kent, kindly showed him the sights of the capital; from
there they went to Zanesville, and then down the Muskingum, eighteen
miles, to visit some relatives. There James is said to have taught a
short term of school before he returned home again; after this came the
renewal of school-days at Chester; and so progressing, we may end by
saying that James managed to support himself at Chester for somewhat
over two years, and to save a little money to begin on when he moved a
step higher. We have been thus minute in relating these incidents only
because they best show the stuff that was in this heroic young fellow,
and he can have no better eulogy.
Now, what were some of the elements of Garfield’s mental development at
this period? During the first term he had revived the rusty
recollections of his early acquirements, and pursued arithmetic,
algebra, grammar, and natural philosophy; afterwards came more of the
regular academic studies, including the rudiments of Latin and Greek; he
also studied botany, and collected a good herbarium. Every step had been
carefully taken, and his mind was becoming accustomed to close thinking.
Probably his first political impressions of importance were at this time
being made, but we have no record of any opinions formed by him at that
time on the subjects which then made political affairs interesting.
At the end of the first term in Chester, the literary society gave a
public entertainment; on that occasion James made a speech, which is
referred to in the diary he kept at that time, with this comment: “I was
very much scared, and very glad of a short curtain across the platform
that hid my shaking legs from the audience.” Soon afterwards, he took
some elocution lessons, which is evidence of the fact that he began to
think of making some figure as a public speaker.
While Garfield taught the Ledge school another change had come to him.
The old log school-house on his mother’s farm was used regularly as a
church, where a good old man, eloquent and earnest in his devotion to
religion, ministered to the little congregation of “Disciples” who
assembled to hear him. Recent events, and serious thinking, had
predisposed James to listen with a willing ear, and he began to feel
drawn back again to the simple faith of childhood which had been taught
him by his mother. The sect, of which his family were all members, were
followers of a new religious leader. Alexander Campbell is a name
familiar to all the present generation of older men. At a time of
furious disputation on religious subjects, Campbell was one of the
ablest of controversialists. First, a Presbyterian preacher, he had
rejected the Confession of Faith, and founded a new church, called the
“Disciples of Christ,” whose only written creed was the Bible. Gifted
with a proselyting spirit, he soon saw his one society spread and grow
into a multitude, so that soon not Virginia alone, but many surrounding
States were included in the religious territory of the “Disciples,”
called sometimes the “Campbellites.” It was one of this man’s followers
and preachers who now attracted Garfield. Their fundamentals of belief
have been summed up thus:
1. We call ourselves Christians or Disciples.
2. We believe in God the Father.
3. We believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God,
and our only Savior. We regard the divinity of Christ as the
fundamental truth in the Christian system.
4. We believe in the Holy Spirit, both as to its agency in
conversion and as an indweller in the heart of the Christian.
5. We accept both the Old and New Testament Scriptures as the
inspired Word of God.
6. We believe in the future punishment of the wicked and the future
reward of the righteous.
7. We believe that Deity is a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering
God.
8. We observe the institution of the Lord’s Supper on every Lord’s
Day. To this table it is our practice neither to invite nor debar.
We say it is the Lord’s Supper for all the Lord’s children.
9. We plead for the union of all God’s people on the Bible, and the
Bible alone.
10. The Bible is our only creed.
11. We maintain that all the ordinances of the Gospel should be
observed as they were in the days of the Apostles.
Aside from its adherence to the Bible, this organization did not have or
profess to have any thing in the way of creed to attract a fervid young
man to its acceptance.
Garfield was a man of susceptibility to influences; and peculiarly to
those of religion. Nature prepared him for it, and his early influences
led to it. The “wild-oats” had been sown, and the prodigal was ready to
return. In March, 1850, he joined the Church, and at once became an
enthusiastic worker for its interests. How this new connection came to
have a potent influence in the shaping and development of his progress,
will constantly appear as we observe the next few years of his life.
Garfield was always interested in any cause which still had its place to
make in the world; for in that particular it would be like himself. He
joined a young church; the first school he went to was a new one, as was
also the second. He joined the Republican party before that party had
ever won a national victory.
In 1851, Garfield thought he had about exhausted the advantages of
Geauga, and he began to seek “fresh scenes and pastures new.” We
ourselves can not do better than to take leave of that secluded spot,
summing up our hero’s life there in these his own words: “I remember
with great satisfaction the work which was done for me at Chester. It
marked the most decisive change in my life. While there I formed a
definite purpose and plan to complete a college course. It is a great
point gained, when a young man makes up his mind to devote several years
to the accomplishment of a definite work. With the educational
facilities now afforded in our country, no young man, who has good
health and is master of his own actions, can be excused for not
obtaining a good education. Poverty is very inconvenient, but it is a
fine spur to activity, and may be made a rich blessing.”
Alexander Campbell was not merely a zealous propagandist of religious
opinions; he was an organizer of religious forces. Among these forces,
education stands in the first rank. Understanding this fact, Campbell
himself founded a college at Bethany, West Virginia,—then Virginia,—of
which he was President until he died. Following their leader in this
liberal spirit, the Disciples had established schools and colleges
wherever they were able. Hiram, Portage County, Ohio, was a settlement
where the new sect was numerous, and here, in 1850, was erected the
first building of what is now widely known as Hiram College, but was
then called the Eclectic Institute. It was toward this place that in the
fall of that year James A. Garfield turned. A somewhat advanced course
of study was promised, and he resolved to go there and prepare for
college. Arriving there in time to begin with the first classes, he
looked about as usual for something to do. One evening the trustees were
in executive session, when a knock was heard at their door. The intruder
was admitted. He was a tall, muscular young man, scarcely twenty years
old, unpolished in appearance, and carrying himself awkwardly, but
withal in a strikingly straightforward manner.
“Well, sir, what is your business with us?”
In firm, clear tones the answer came: “Gentlemen, I have come here from
my home in Orange. I have been two years at Geauga Seminary, and am here
to continue my work. Being the son of a widow, who is poor, I must work
my way along; and I ask to be made your janitor.” Some hesitation was
visible in the faces of the trustees, and he added: “Try me two weeks,
and if you are not satisfied I will quit.”
The offer was accepted, and James A. Garfield again found himself a rich
man; rich in opportunities, rich in health, rich in having _some_ way,
though a humble one, to support himself through another period of
magnificent mental growth. His inflexible rule was to do every thing
which fell in his way to do, and do all things well. Before the term was
far gone, the entire school had become interested in him. With a
pleasant word for every one, always more than willing to do a favor,
earnest, frank, and a ready laugher, nobody could be more popular than
Garfield. In a short time one of the teachers of Science and English,
became ill, and Garfield was chosen to fill the temporary vacancy. This
duty was so faithfully performed that some of the classes were continued
to him, and so he was never without from three to six classes till he
went away to college. As a teacher he was singularly successful; the
classes never flagged in interest, for the teacher was always either
drawing forth ideas on the subject in hand from some one else, or he was
giving his own views in a manner which invariably held attention. By
these helps, by still working as a carpenter in the village, and in
various other ways, making as much and spending as little as he could,
Garfield finally left Hiram, free from debt, and possessor of three
hundred and fifty dollars on which to start into college.
From the time when he became a member of the church at Geauga, Garfield
had continually increased in devotion to religious affairs, and at Hiram
quickly became a power. He was constantly present at the social
prayer-meetings, where his remarks were frequent, and attracted notice.
In a short time he was called on to address the people, and this
becoming a habit, rapidly improved, and came to be called “the most
eloquent young man in the county.” For a number of years Garfield was
known as a first-rate preacher; in regularity of speaking, however, he
was very much like that order known among Methodists as “local
preachers.”
That Garfield was at this time beginning to have political connections,
appears from a story told by Father Bentley, then pastor of the church
at Hiram. On one occasion an evening service was about to be held, and
the pastor had invited our friend to sit with him on the platform; also
expecting him to address the people. Unnoticed by Father Bentley, a
young man called Garfield away, and was hastening him off to talk at a
political meeting. Discovering his departure, Bentley was about to call
him back; when, suddenly, he stopped, and said: “Well, I suppose we must
let him go. Very likely he will be President of the United States, some
day!”
Garfield’s general progress at Hiram was intimately connected with that
of the people about him; and the best possible view of him must come
from a knowledge of his friends, and the work they did together. In a
late address to the Alumni of Hiram, Garfield has furnished a good
sketch of the kind of human material that made up the “Eclectic
Institute.”
“In 1850 it was a green field, with a solid, plain brick building in
the center of it, and almost all the rest has been done by the
institution itself. Without a dollar of endowment, without a
powerful friend anywhere, a corps of teachers were told to go on the
ground and see what they could make of it, and to find their pay out
of the tuitions that should be received; who invited students of
their own spirit to come here on the ground and find out by trial
what they could make of it. The chief response has been their work,
and the chief part of the response I see in the faces gathered
before me to-day. It was a simple question of sinking or swimming,
and I do not know of any institution that has accomplished more,
with little means, than this school on Hiram hill. I know of no
place where the doctrine of self-help has had a fuller development.
As I said a great many years ago, the theory of Hiram was to throw
its young men and women overboard, and let them try for themselves.
All that were fit to get ashore got there, and we had few cases of
drowning. Now, when I look over these faces, and mark the several
geologic ages, I find the geologic analogy does not hold—there are
no fossils. Some are dead and glorified in our memories, but those
who are alive are ALIVE. I believe there was a stronger pressure of
work to the square inch in the boilers that ran this establishment
than any other I know of. Young men and women—rough, crude and
untutored farmer boys and girls—came here to try themselves, and
find out what manner of people they were. They came here to go on a
voyage of discovery, to discover themselves, and in many cases I
hope the discovery was fortunate.”
Among these brave toilers were two or three of Garfield’s more intimate
friends, with whom we must become acquainted before we can come at a
thorough knowledge of Garfield himself. Of his introduction to them he
has said:
“A few days after the beginning of the term, I saw a class of three
reciting in mathematics—geometry, I think. I had never seen a
geometry, and, regarding both teacher and class with a feeling of
reverential awe for the intellectual height to which they had
climbed, I studied their faces so closely that I seem to see them
now as distinctly as I saw them then. And it has been my good
fortune since that time to claim them all as intimate friends. The
teacher was Thomas Munnell, and the members of his class were
William B. Hazen, George A. Baker and Almeda A. Booth.”
Afterwards he met here, for the second time, one who had been, known to
him in Chester. Lucretia Rudolph was a farmer’s daughter, whose humble
home was then not far from Chester. Her father was from Maryland; his
uncle had been a brave soldier of the Revolution, and, as the story
goes, he afterward went to France, enlisted under the banner of
Napoleon, and was soon known to the world as Marshal Ney. Lucretia’s
mother came from Vermont, and her name had been Arabella Mason. The
Rudolph family was poor, but industrious and ambitious. Their daughter
had, therefore, been sent to Geauga. She was a “quiet, thoughtful girl,
of singularly sweet and refined disposition,” and a great reader.
“Her heart was gentle as her face was fair,
With grace and love and pity dwelling there.”
In the fall of 1849 this young lady was earnestly pursuing her studies
at Geauga Seminary, and, during the hours of recitation, there often sat
near her the awkward and bashful youth, Garfield. There these two became
acquainted; and, although the boy made but few advances at first, they
soon became good friends. Her sweet, attractive ways and sensible
demeanor drew his heart out toward her; and, as for James, though he may
have been very rough in appearance, yet his countenance was always a
good one, and his regularly brilliant leadership of the class in all
discussions was well adapted to challenge such a maiden’s admiration. A
backwoods idyl, ending in an early marriage, would not be a surprising
result in such a case as this. But these two souls were too earnestly
bent on high aims in life to trouble their hearts, or bother their
heads, with making love. They were merely acquaintances, although
tradition hath it, that from the day when, leaving Chester, their paths
diverged awhile, a correspondence was regularly kept up. However that
may be, the fact we know is, that at this time and place, James A.
Garfield first met Lucretia Rudolph, the woman who was one day to become
his wife. In 1852 the Rudolphs moved to Hiram, where the young lady
studied at the “Eclectic,” and recited to Garfield in some of her
classes. The old friendship here ripened into affection; they pursued
many studies together, and, about the time he left Hiram for college,
they were engaged to marry. Long after they were married, a poet of
Hiram referred to her thus:
“_Again_ a Mary? Nay, _Lucretia_,
The noble, classic name
That well befits our fair ladie,
Our sweet and gentle dame,
With heart as leal and loving
As e’er was sung in lays
Of high-born Roman matron,
In old, heroic days;
Worthy her lord illustrious, whom
Honor and fame attend;
Worthy her soldier’s name to wear,
Worthy the civic wreath to share
That binds her Viking’s tawny hair;
Right proud are we the world should know
As hers, him we long ago
Found truest helper, friend.”
Another woman, however, one of the members of the awe-inspiring geometry
class named above, had, in the Hiram days, more influence on Garfield’s
intellectual life than any other person. Miss Almeda A. Booth was a
woman of wonderful force of mind and character. She was the daughter of
New England parents, who had come to Ohio, where her father traveled
over an immense circuit of country as an itinerant Methodist preacher.
Almeda very early discovered intellectual tastes, and, at twelve, read
such works as Rollin’s _Ancient History_ and Gibbon’s _Decline and Fall
of the Roman Empire_. She taught her first school at seventeen. An
engagement of marriage was broken by the death of her intended husband,
and her life was ever afterward devoted to the business of teaching.
Thus the quiet current of life was not wrecked, but went smoothly on,
clear and beautiful. She was poor in what people call riches; the office
of teacher gave support. She was sad because death had darkened her
life; study was a never-failing solace. Her mind gloried in strength,
and the opportunity for a career of useful exercise of its powers helped
to make her happy. Henceforth she loved knowledge more than ever; and
could freely say:
“My mind to me a kingdom is.
Such perfect joy therein I find,
As far exceeds all earthly bliss
That God or Nature hath assigned.”
About the same time with Garfield, Miss Booth came to Hiram, and soon
found her time, like his, divided between teaching in some classes and
reciting in others. Each at once recognized in the other an intellectual
peer, and they soon were pursuing many studies together. Our best idea
of her comes from an address made by Garfield, on a memorial occasion,
in 1876, the year after Miss Booth died. He compared her to Margaret
Fuller, the only American woman whom he thought her equal in ability, in
variety of accomplishments, or in influence over other minds. “It is
quite possible,” says Garfield, “that John Stuart Mill has exaggerated
the extent to which his own mind and works were influenced by Harriet
Mills. I should reject his opinion on that subject as a delusion, did I
not know from my own experience, as well as that of hundreds of Hiram
students, how great a power Miss Booth exercised over the culture and
opinions of her friends.”
Again: “In mathematics and the physical sciences I was far behind her;
but we were nearly at the same place in Greek and Latin. She had made
her home at President Hayden’s almost from the first, and I became a
member of his family at the beginning of the Winter Term of 1852–’3.
Thereafter, for nearly two years, she and I studied together in the same
classes (frequently without other associates) till we had nearly
completed the classical course.” In the summer vacation of 1853, with
several others, they hired a professor and studied the classics.
“Miss Booth read thoroughly, and for the first time, the _Pastorals_
of Virgil—that is, the Georgics and Bucolics entire—and the first
six books of Homer’s _Iliad_, accompanied by a thorough drill in the
Latin or Greek Grammar at each recitation. I am sure that none of
those who recited with her would say she was behind the foremost in
the thoroughness of her work, or the elegance of her translation.
“During the Fall Term of 1853, she read one hundred pages of
Herodotus, and about the same amount of Livy. During that term also,
Profs. Dunshee and Hull and Miss Booth and I met, at her room, two
evenings of each week, to make a joint translation of the Book of
Romans. Prof. Dunshee contributed his studies of the German
commentators, De Wette and Tholuck; and each of the translators made
some special study for each meeting. How nearly we completed the
translation, I do not remember; but I do remember that the
contributions and criticisms of Miss Booth were remarkable for
suggestiveness and sound judgment. Our work was more thorough than
rapid, for I find this entry in my diary for December 15, 1853:
‘Translation Society sat three hours at Miss Booth’s room, and
agreed upon the translation of nine verses.’
“During the Winter Term of 1853–’4, she continued to read Livy, and
also read the whole of _Demosthenes on the Crown_. The members of
the class in Demosthenes were Miss Booth, A. Hull, C. C. Foot and
myself.
“During the Spring Term of 1854, she read the _Germania and
Agricola_ of Tacitus, and a portion of Hesiod.”
These were the occupations, these the friends of James A. Garfield at
Hiram, when, in the fall of 1854, he found himself ready for college. He
was so far advanced that he would easily be able to graduate in two
years. The best institution of advanced learning, in the “Disciples’”
church, was that of which Alexander Campbell was president, at Bethany,
Virginia. But Garfield, much to the surprise of his Hiram friends, made
up his mind that he would not go there. The reasons he gave are summed
up in a letter written by him at that time, and quoted by Whitelaw Reid
in his _Ohio in the War_. This letter shows not only why he did not go
to Bethany, but why he did go to Williams. He wrote:
“There are three reasons why I have decided not to go to Bethany:
1st. The course of study is not so extensive or thorough as in
Eastern colleges. 2d. Bethany leans too heavily toward slavery. 3d.
I am the son of Disciple parents, am one myself, and have had but
little acquaintance with people of other views; and, having always
lived in the West, I think it will make me more liberal, both in my
religious and general views and sentiments, to go into a new circle,
where I shall be under new influences. These considerations led me
to conclude to go to some New England college. I therefore wrote to
the presidents of Brown University, Yale and Williams, setting forth
the amount of study I had done, and asking how long it would take me
to finish their course.
“Their answers are now before me. All tell me I can graduate in two
years. They are all brief, business notes, but President Hopkins
concludes with this sentence: ‘If you come here, we shall be glad to
do what we can for you.’ Other things being so near equal, this
sentence, which seems to be a kind of friendly grasp of the hand,
has settled the question for me. I shall start for Williams next
week.”.
The next week he did go to Williams. Boyhood, with its struggles, had
vanished. Garfield was now a man of twenty-three years, with much
development yet before him, for his possibilities of growth were very
large, and the process never stopped while he lived. What he did at
Williams let the following pages reveal.
CHAPTER III.
THE MORNING OF POWER.
Measure the girth of this aspiring tree!
Glance upward where the green boughs, spreading wide,
Fling out their foliage, and thou shalt see
The promise of a Nation’s health and pride.
College life, as we have it in this country, is a romance. In the midst
of an age in whose thought poetry has found little lodgment; in which
love has become a matter of business, and literature a trade, the
American college is the home of sentiment, of ideas, and of letters. The
old institutions of romance have crumbled into ruins. The armed knight,
the amorous lady, the wandering minstrel, the mysterious monastery, the
mediæval castle with its ghosts and legends exist only in history. But
behind the academic walls there are passages-at-arms as fierce, loves as
sweet, songs as stirring, legends as wonderful, secrets as well
transmitted to posterity as ever existed in the brain of Walter Scott.
It was to such an enchanted life at Williams College, that Garfield
betook himself in the month of June, 1854. To go through college is like
passing before a great number of photographic cameras. A man leaves an
indelible picture of himself printed on the mind of each student with
whom he comes in contact.
When Garfield entered Williams, he was over six feet high, as awkward as
he was muscular, and looking every inch a backwoodsman. He had made
great progress, however, in his previous studies, and successfully
passed his examination for the junior class. A young fellow, named
Wilbur, a cripple, came with him from Ohio, and the couple from the
first attracted much attention. A classmate writes: “Garfield’s kindness
to his lame chum was remarked by every body.”
But many of the college boys were the sons of rich men. The strapping
young fellow from Ohio was, in his own language, a “greeny” of the most
verdant type. His clothes were homespun, and the idea of fitting him
seemed never to have entered their maker’s head. His language was marred
by uncouth provincialisms. His face had a kindly and thoughtful
expression, on which the struggle of boyhood had left little trace, but
this could not save him from many a cut. To a coarser-grained man, the
petty indignities, the sly sarcasms, the cool treatment of the Eastern
collegians would not have been annoying, but there are traces of a
bitter inward anguish in Garfield’s heart at this time. To make it
worse, he had not entered a lower class, where he perhaps might have had
companions as green as himself, or, at least, comparative obscurity;
but, entering an upper class, from whose members rusticity had long
since disappeared, he was considered a legitimate target for the entire
body of students.
But he had brains, and nowhere in the world, does ability rise to the
top, and mediocrity sink to the bottom, so surely and swiftly, as at
college. In a short time, his commanding abilities began to assert
themselves. In the class-room, he was not only a profound and accurate
scholar, but his large brain seemed packed with information of every
sort, and all ready for use at a moment’s notice. His first summer
before the regular fall term he spent in the college library. Up to that
time he had never seen a copy of Shakespeare; he had never read a novel
of Walter Scott, of Dickens, or of Thackeray.
The opportunity was a golden one. On the shelves of the Williams’
library were to be found the best books of all the ages. Plunging in at
once, he read poetry, history, metaphysics, science, with hardly a pause
for meals. He felt that his poverty had made him lose time, and that the
loss must be made good. His powerful frame seemed to know no fatigue,
and his voracious and devouring mind no satiety. Weaker minds would have
been foundered. Not so with this western giant. Note-book in hand, he
jotted down memoranda of references, mythologic, historical or literary,
which he did not fully understand, for separate investigation. The
ground was carefully gleaned, notwithstanding the terrific speed. This
outside reading was kept up all through his stay at Williams.
Hon. Clement H. Hill, of Boston, a classmate of Garfield, writing of his
studies and reading, says: “I think at that time he was paying great
attention to German, and devoted all his leisure time to that language.
In his studies, his taste was rather for metaphysical and philosophical
studies than for history and biography, which were the studies most to
my liking; but he read besides a good deal of poetry and general
literature. Tennyson was then, and has ever been since, one of his
favorite authors, and I remember, too, when _Hiawatha_ was published,
how greatly he admired it, and how he would quote almost pages of it in
our walks together. He was also greatly interested in Charles Kingsley’s
writings, particularly in _Alton Locke_ and _Yeast_. I first, I think,
introduced him to Dickens, and gave him _Oliver Twist_ to read, and he
roared with laughter over Mr. Bumble.”
There are but few stories told of Garfield’s life at Williams, and there
is a reason behind the fact. The college “yarn” is generally a tradition
of some shrewd trick, some insubordination to discipline, or some famous
practical joke. Every college has a constantly growing treasury of such
legend lore. There are stories of robbed hen-roosts, pilfered orchards,
and plundered watermelon patches; of ice-cream stolen from the back
porch just after the guests had assembled in the parlor; of mock
processions, of bogus newspapers, of wedding invitations gotten out by
some rascally sophomore, for the marriage of some young couple, who were
barely whispering the thought in their own imaginations. There are
stories of front doors painted red; of masked mobs ranging through town
on Halloween, and demanding refreshment; of the wonderful theft of the
college bell, right when a watchman with loaded revolver was in the
building, of hairbreadth escapes down lightning rods, and of the burning
in effigy of unpopular professors. There is a story told in nearly every
college in the country, of how a smart fellow, to revenge himself,
sprinkled several barrels of salt on the street and sidewalk in front of
a professor’s house; how he drove all the wandering cattle in the
village to that part of the street, and how no digging, nor sweeping,
nor scalding water, nor flourished broom handles did any good toward
driving away the meek but persistent kine, who, with monotonous bell and
monotonous bellow, for months afterward, day and night, chose that spot
for their parlor.
But no such legends hung round the name of Garfield at Williams College.
He was there under great pecuniary pressure, and for a high and solemn
purpose. He was there for work, not play. Every thing which looked like
a turning aside from the straight and narrow way, was indignantly
spurned. At one time he caught the fever for playing chess. He was a
superior player, and enjoyed the game immensely. But when he found it
carried him to late hours, he denied himself the pleasure entirely.
But he stepped at once to the front rank as a debater in his literary
society. His power of statement, his grasp of facts, his quick repartee,
combined to make him the leading orator of the college. His method of
preparation showed the mind of a master. The subject of debate he would
divide into branches, and assign a separate topic to each of his allies
for investigation, distributing each topic according to their respective
qualities of mind. Each man overhauled the college library, gathering
and annotating all the facts and authorities upon his particular branch
of study, and submitted his notes to Garfield, who would then analyze
the mass of facts, draw up the propositions, which were to bear down
like Macedonian phalanxes upon the enemy, and redistribute the branches
of the question to his debaters for presentation on the rostrum.
His mind never seemed foggy. Odd scraps of information, which ordinary
men would have been unable or afraid to use, he wielded like a club
about his adversaries’ heads. In a public debate in his junior year, the
preceding speaker had used a lengthy and somewhat irrelevant
illustration from _Don Quixote_. When Garfield’s turn for reply came, he
brought down the house by saying: “The gentleman is correct in drawing
analogies between his side of this question and certain passages in the
life of Don Quixote. There is a marked resemblance, which I perceive
myself, between his argument and the scene of the knight attacking the
windmill; or, rather, it would be more appropriate to say that he
resembles the _windmill attacking the knight_.” At the college supper,
which followed the public entertainment, Garfield’s extensive
acquaintance with standard literature was being talked about, when he
laughingly told his admiring friends that he had never read _Don
Quixote_, and had only heard a mention of the tournament between the
crazy knight and the windmill.
His classmates, in writing of the impressions made on them by their
college chum, speak much of his warm, social disposition, and his
fondness for jokes. He had a sweet, large, wholesome nature, a hearty
and cheerful manner, which endeared him most closely to the men among
whom he spent the two years of college life. By the poorer and younger
students he was almost worshiped for his kindliness and encouragement.
He was a warm friend of every boy in the college; but for the weak, or
sick, or poverty stricken, his heart overflowed with generous sympathy.
His morals were as spotless as the stars. A classmate, who knew him
well, writes: “I never heard an angry word, or a hasty expression, or a
sentence which needed to be recalled. He possessed equanimity of temper,
self-possession, and self-control in the highest degree. What is more, I
never heard a profane or improper word, or an indelicate allusion from
his lips. He was in habits, speech, and example, a pure man.”
Williamstown, Massachusetts, where the college is located, is one of the
most beautiful spots on the continent, and its magnificent mountain
scenery made a deep impression on the mind of the tall Ohioan, who had
been reared in a level country. It is only to people who live among them
that mountains are unimpressive, and, perhaps, even then they make their
impress on the character, giving it a religious loftiness and beauty.
An old institution of Williams College was “Mountain Day”—an annual
holiday given for expeditions to some picturesque point in the vicinity.
On one of these occasions, an incident revealed the courage and piety of
“Old Gar,” as the boys lovingly called their leader. They were on the
summit of “Old Greylock,” seven miles from the college. Although it was
midsummer, the mountain top was cool; and, as the great glowing sun sank
behind the western range, the air became chilly. The group of collegians
were gathered about a camp-fire that blazed up briskly in the darkening
air. Some were sitting, some standing, but all were silent. The splendor
and solemnity of the scene; the dark winding valley; the circling range
of mountains; the over-bending sky; the distant villages, with the
picturesque old college towers; the faint tinkle of the cowbell; the
unspeakable glories of the sunset,—
“As through the West, where sank the crimson day,
Meek twilight slowly sailed, and waved her banners gray,”—
filled every thoughtful heart with religious awe. Just as the silence
became oppressive, it was broken by the voice of Garfield: “Boys, it is
my habit to read a chapter in the Bible every evening with my absent
mother. Shall I read aloud?” The little company assented; and, drawing
from his pocket a well-worn Testament, he read, in soft, rich tones, the
chapter which the mother in Ohio was reading at the same time, and then
called on a classmate to kneel on that mountain top and pray.
The two months’ vacation of Garfield’s first winter at college was spent
at North Pownal, Vermont, teaching a writing-school, in a school-house
where, the winter before, Chester A. Arthur had been the regular
teacher. But, at that time, Garfield only knew his predecessor by name,
and the men whose destinies were in the future to become so closely
intertwined did not become acquainted.
At the end of his junior year Garfield’s funds were exhausted; but,
after a consultation with his mother, he resolved to borrow the money to
complete his course, rather than lose more time. His first arrangement
for the money failed; but Dr. J. P. Robison, of Bedford, who, five years
before, had prophesied so much of the widow’s son, readily assumed the
burden, asking no security but his debtor’s word, but receiving a life
insurance policy which Garfield, who seemed to inherit an apprehension
of sudden calamity, insisted on procuring.
At the beginning of his senior year, he was elected one of the editors
of the Williams _Quarterly_, the college paper. His associates in the
work were W. R. Baxter, Henry E. Knox, E. Clarence Smith, and John
Tatlock. The pages of this magazine were enriched by a great number of
the products of his pen. His originality of thought and pleasant style
is nowhere better shown than in the following extract from a brilliant
article upon Karl Theodore Korner:
“The greater part of our modern literature bears evident marks of
the haste which characterizes all the movements of this age; but, in
reading these older authors, we are impressed with the idea that
they enjoyed the most comfortable leisure. Many books we can read in
a railroad car, and feel a harmony between the rushing of the train
and the haste of the author; but to enjoy the older authors, we need
the quiet of a winter evening—an easy chair before a cheerful fire,
and all the equanimity of spirits we can command. Then the genial
good nature, the rich fullness, the persuasive eloquence of those
old masters will fall upon us like the warm, glad sunshine, and
afford those hours of calm contemplation in which the spirit may
expand with generous growth, and gain deep and comprehensive views.
The pages of friendly old Goldsmith come to us like a golden autumn
day, when every object which meets the eye bears all the impress of
the completed year, and the beauties of an autumnal forest.”
Another article, which attracted great attention at the college, was
entitled “The Province of History.” The argument was that history has
two duties, the one to narrate facts with their relations and
significance, the other to show the tendency of the whole to some great
end. His idea was that history is to show the unfolding of a great
providential plan in the affairs of men and nations. In the course of
the article he said:
“For every village, State, and nation there is an aggregate of
native talent which God has given, and by which, together with His
Providence, He leads that nation on, and thus leads the world. In
the light of these truths, we affirm that no man can understand the
history of any nation, or of the world, who does not recognize in it
the power of God, and behold His stately goings forth as He walks
among the nations. It is His hand that is moving the vast
superstructure of human history, and, though but one of the windows
were unfurnished, like that of the Arabian palace, yet all the
powers of earth could never complete it without the aid of the
Divine Architect.
“To employ another figure—the world’s history is a divine poem, of
which the history of every nation is a canto, and of every man a
word. Its strains have been pealing along down the centuries, and,
though there have been mingled the discord of roaring cannon and
dying men, yet to the Christian philosopher and historian—the humble
listener—there has been a divine melody running through the song,
which speaks of hope and halcyon days to come. The record of every
orphan’s sigh, of every widow’s prayer, of every noble deed, of
every honest heart-throb for the right, is swelling that gentle
strain; and when, at last, the great end is attained—when the lost
image of God is restored to the human soul; when the church anthem
can be pealed forth without a discordant note, then will angels join
in the chorus, and all the sons of God again ‘shout for joy.’”
This is really an oration. It is not the style of the essayist. It is
the style of the orator before his audience. The boldness of the figure
which would captivate an audience, is a little palling to the quiet and
receptive state of the reader. The mental attitude of Garfield when he
wrote that passage was not that of the writer in his study, but of the
orator on the platform with a hushed assemblage before him. It will be
noticed that this characteristic of style only became more marked with
Garfield after he had left the mimic arena of the college.
But the idea embodied in this article is as significant and
characteristic as its expression. In some form or other most of the
world’s great leaders have believed in some outside and controlling
influence, which really shaped and directed events. To this they
attributed their own fortune. Napoleon called and believed himself to be
“The Child of Destiny.” Mohammed was a fatalist:
“On two days it stood not to run from thy fate—
The appointed and the unappointed day;
On the first, neither balm nor physician can save,
Nor thee, on the second, the universe slay.”
Buddha believed in fatalism. So did Calvin. Julius Cæsar ascribed his
own career to an overweening and superimposed destiny. William III. of
England, thought men were in the grasp of an iron fate.
The idea expressed in this article of a providential plan in human
things, according to which history unfolds itself, and events and men
are controlled, is not seen here for the last time. It will reappear at
intervals throughout the life of the man, always maintaining a large
ascendancy in his mind. It is not a belief in fate, destiny, or
predestination, but it is a kindred and corresponding one. Whether such
beliefs are false or true, whether superstitious or religious, does not
concern the biographer. It is sufficient that Garfield had such a
belief, and that it was a controlling influence in his life.
But Garfield’s literary efforts in college also took the form of poetry.
The affectionate nature, and lofty imagination, made his heart the home
of sentiment, and poetry its proper expression. We reproduce entire a
poem entitled “Memory,” written during his senior year. At that time,
his intended profession was teaching, and it is possible that the
presidency of a Christian college was “the summit where the sunbeams
fell,” but in the light of events the last lines seem almost prophetic.
MEMORY.
’Tis beauteous night; the stars look brightly down
Upon the earth, decked in her robe of snow,
No light gleams at the window save my own,
Which gives its cheer to midnight and to me.
And, now, with noiseless step, sweet Memory comes
And leads me gently through her twilight realms.
What poet’s tuneful lyre has ever sung,
Or delicatest pencil e’er portrayed,
The enchanted, shadowy land where Memory dwells?
It has its valleys, cheerless, lone, and drear,
Dark shaded by the mournful cypress tree,
And yet its sunlit mountain-tops are bathed
In heaven’s own blue. Upon its craggy cliffs,
Robed in the dreamy light of distant years,
Are clustered joys serene of other days;
Upon its gentle, sloping hillside bend
The weeping willow o’er the sacred dust
Of dear departed ones: and yet in that land,
Where’er our footsteps fall upon the shore,
They that were sleeping rise from out the dust
Of death’s long, silent years, and ’round us stand,
As erst they did before the prison tomb
Received their clay within its voiceless halls.
The heavens that bend above that land are hung
With clouds of various hues; some dark and chill,
Surcharged with sorrow, cast their somber shade
Upon the sunny, joyous land below:
Others are floating through the dreamy air,
White as falling snow, their margins tinged:
With gold and crimsoned hues; their shadows fall
Upon the flowery meads and sunny slopes,
Soft as the shadow of an angel’s wing.
When the rough battle of the day is done,
And evening’s peace falls gently on the heart,
I bound away across the noisy years,
Unto the utmost verge of Memory’s land,
Where earth and sky in dreamy distance meet:
And memory dim, with dark oblivion joins;
Where woke the first remembered sounds that fell
Upon the ear in childhood’s early morn;
And wandering thence, along the rolling years,
I see the shadow of my former self
Gliding from childhood up to man’s estate.
The path of youth winds down through many a vale
And on the brink of many a dread abyss,
From out whose darkness comes no ray of light,
Save that a phantom dances o’er the gulf
And beckons toward the verge. Again the path
Leads o’er a summit where the sunbeams fall;
And thus in light and shade, sunshine and gloom,
Sorrow and joy, this life-path leads along.
It is said that every one has in some degree a prophetic instinct; that
the spirit of man reaching out into the future apprehends more of its
destiny than it admits even to itself. If ever this premonition finds
expression, it is in poetry. On the following page will be found a gem,
torn from the setting of Garfield’s college life, which was published
during his senior year, and is equally suggestive:
AUTUMN.
Old Autumn, thou art here! Upon the earth
And in the heavens the signs of death are hung;
For o’er the earth’s brown breast stalks pale decay,
And ’mong the lowering clouds the wild winds wail,
And sighing sadly, shout the solemn dirge,
O’er Summer’s fairest flowers, all faded now.
The winter god, descending from the skies,
Has reached the mountain tops, and decked their brows
With glittering frosty crowns, and breathed his breath
Among the trumpet pines, that herald forth
His coming.
Before the driving blast
The mountain oak bows down his hoary head,
And flings his withered locks to the rough gales
That fiercely roar among his branches bare,
Uplifted to the dark, unpitying heavens.
The skies have put their mourning garments on,
And hung their funeral drapery on the clouds.
Dead Nature soon will wear her shroud of snow
And lie entombed in Winter’s icy grave.
Thus passes life. As heavy age comes on,
The joys of youth—bright beauties of the Spring—
Grow dim and faded, and the long dark night
Of death’s chill winter comes. But as the Spring
Rebuilds the ruined wrecks of Winter’s waste,
And cheers the gloomy earth with joyous light,
So o’er the tomb the star of hope shall rise
And usher in an ever-during day.
There is considerable poetic power here. The picture of the mountain
oak, with its dead leaves shattered by the November blasts, and its bare
branches uplifted to the dark unpitying heavens, is equal to Thomson.
This poem, like the one on Memory, is full of sympathy with nature, and
a somber sense of the sorrowful side of human nature.
But a college boy’s feelings have a long range upward and downward.
Nobody can have the “blues” more intensely, and nobody can have more
fun. We find several comic poems by Garfield in his paper. One of them
is a parody on Tennyson’s “Light Brigade,” and served to embalm forever
in the traditions of Williams a rascally student prank which the
Freshmen played upon their Sophomore enemies. One stanza must suffice
for these pages. It was called “The Charge of the Tight Brigade”:
_Bottles to right of them,
Bottles to left of them,
Bottles in front of them,
Fizzled and sundered_,
Ent’ring with shout and yell,
Boldly they drank and well,
_They caught the Tartar then;
Oh, what a perfect sell!
Sold—the half hundred._
Grinned all the dentals bare,
Swung all their caps in air,
Uncorking bottles there,
Watching the Freshmen while
Every one wondered;
Plunged in tobacco-smoke,
With many a desperate stroke,
Dozens of bottles broke.
_Then they came back, but not,
Not the half hundred._
The winter vacation of his senior year Garfield spent at Poestenkill, a
little place a few miles from Troy, New York. While teaching his writing
school there, he became acquainted with some members of the Christian
Church and through them with the officers of the city schools in Troy.
Struck by his abilities, they resolved to offer him a position in the
schools at a salary of $1,500 a year. The proposition was exciting to
his imagination. It meant much more money than he could hope for back in
Ohio; it meant the swift discharge of his debt, a life in a busy city,
where the roar of the great world was never hushed. But on the other
hand, his mother and the friends among whom he had struggled through
boyhood, were back in Ohio.
The conflict was severe. At last his decision was made. He and a
gentleman representing the Troy schools were walking on a hill called
Mount Olympus, when Garfield settled the matter in the following words:
“You are not Satan, and I am not Jesus, but we are upon the mountain,
and you have tempted me powerfully. I think I must say, ‘Get thee behind
me.’ I am poor, and the salary would soon pay my debts and place me in a
position of independence; but there are two objections. I could not
accomplish my resolution to complete a college course, and should be
crippled intellectually for life. Then my roots are all fixed in Ohio,
where people know me and I know them, and this transplanting might not
succeed as well in the long run as to go back home and work for smaller
pay.”
During his two years at Williams, a most important phase of Garfield’s
intellectual development was his opinion upon questions of politics. It
will be remembered that in 1855, the volcanic flames from the black and
horrible crater of slavery began to burst through the crust of
compromise, which for thirty years had hidden the smoldering fires. In
Kansas, civil war was raging. Determined men from all parts of the
country had gone there to help capture the State for their side, and in
the struggle between the two legislatures, the slavery men resolved to
drive the Free-soilers from the State. The sky was red with burning farm
houses. The woods were full of corpses of antislavery men with knives
sticking in their hearts. Yet the brave Free-soilers held their ground.
One man who had gone there from Ohio, had two sons literally chopped to
pieces. His name was John Brown. He also remained, living six weeks in a
swamp, in order to live at all.
The entire country was becoming aroused. Old political parties were
breaking up, and the lines reformed upon the slavery question. Garfield,
though twenty-three years old, had never voted. Nominally he was an
antislavery Whig. But he took little interest in any party. So far, the
struggle of his own life and the study of literature had monopolized his
mind.
In the fall of 1855, John Z. Goodrich, a member of Congress from the
western district of Massachusetts, delivered a political address in
Williamstown. Garfield and a classmate attended the speaking. The
subject was the Kansas-Nebraska struggle, and the efforts of the
antislavery minority in Congress to save Kansas for freedom. Says the
classmate, Mr. Lavallette Wilson, of New York: “As Mr. Goodrich spoke, I
sat at Garfield’s side, and saw him drink in every word. He said, as we
passed out, ‘This subject is entirely new to me. I am going to know all
about it.’”
The following day he sent for documents on the subject. He made a
profound and careful study of the history of slavery, and of the heroic
resistance to its encroachments. At the end of that investigation, his
mind was made up. Other questions of the day, the dangers from foreign
immigration, and from the Roman Catholic Church, the Crimean war, the
advantage of an elective judiciary, were all eagerly debated by him in
his society, but the central feature of his political creed was
opposition to slavery. His views were moderate and practical. The type
of his mind gave his opinions a broad conservatism, rather than a
theoretical radicalism. Accordingly, when on June 17, 1856, the new-born
Republican party unfurled its young banner of opposition to slavery and
protection for Kansas, Garfield was ready for the party as the party was
ready for him.
It was shortly before his graduation, when news of Fremont’s nomination
came, the light-hearted and enthusiastic collegians held a ratification
meeting. There were several speakers, but Garfield, with his matured
convictions, his natural aptitude for political debate, and his
enthusiastic eloquence, far outshone his friends. The speech was
received with tremendous applause, and it is most unfortunate that no
report of it was made. It was natural that much should have been
expected of this man by the boys of Williams. He seemed to be cast in a
larger mold than the ordinary. The prophecy of the class was a seat in
Congress within ten years. He reached it in seven.
At graduation he received the honor of the metaphysical oration, one of
the highest distinctions awarded to graduates. The subject of his
address was: “Matter and Spirit; or, The Seen and Unseen.” One who was
present says:
“The audience were wonderfully impressed with his oratory, and at the
close there was a wild tumult of applause, and a showering down upon him
of beautiful bouquets of flowers by the ladies;” a fitting close to the
two years of privation, mortification and toil.
Speaking of his mental characteristics, as developed at Williams,
Ex-President Hopkins, one of the greatest metaphysicians of the age,
writes:
“One point in General Garfield’s course of study, worthy of remark, was
its evenness. There was nothing startling at any one time, and no
special preference for any one study. There was a large general capacity
applicable to any subject, and sound sense. As he was more mature than
most, he naturally had a readier and firmer grasp of the higher studies.
Hence his appointment to the metaphysical oration, then one of the high
honors of the class. What he did was done with facility, but by honest
and avowed work. There was no pretense of genius, or alternation of
spasmodic effort and of rest, but a satisfactory accomplishment in all
directions of what was undertaken. Hence there was a steady, healthful,
onward and upward progress.”
To pass over Garfield’s college life without mention of the influence of
President Hopkins upon his intellectual growth, would be to omit its
most important feature. No man liveth to himself alone. The intellectual
life of great men is largely determined and directed by the few superior
minds with which they come in contact during formative periods. The
biography of almost any thinker will show that his intellectual growth
was by epochs, and that each epoch was marked out and created by the
influence of some maturer mind. The first person to exercise this power
is, in most cases, the mother. This was the case with Garfield. The
second person who left an indelible impression on his mental life, and
supplied it with new nourishment and stimulant, was Miss Almeda Booth.
The third person who exercised an overpowering personal influence upon
him was Mark Hopkins. When Garfield came to Williams, his thought was
strong, but uncultured. The crudities and irregularities of his
unpolished manners were also present in his mind.
He had his mental eye-sight, but he saw men as trees walking. But under
the influence of Hopkins, the scales fell from his eyes. The vast and
powerful intellect of the man who was stepping to the front rank of the
world’s thinkers, imparted its wealth of ideas to the big Ohioan.
Through President Hopkins, Garfield’s thought rose into the upper sky.
Under the inspiration of the teacher’s lectures and private
conversation, the pupil’s mind unfolded its immense calyx toward the sun
of speculative thought. From this teacher Garfield derived the great
ideas of law, of the regularity and system of the Universe, of the
analogy between man and nature, of God as the First Cause, of the
foundation of right conduct, of the correlation of forces, of the
philosophy of history. In after years, Garfield always said that
whatever perception he had of general ideas came from this great man.
One winter in Washington the National Teacher’s Association was in
session, and Garfield frequently dropped in to take a share in the
discussion. One day he said: “You are making a grand mistake in
education in this country. You put too much money into brick and mortar,
and not enough into brains. You build palatial school-houses with domes
and towers; supply them with every thing beautiful and luxuriant, and
then put puny men inside. The important thing is not what is taught, but
the teacher. It is the teacher’s personality which is the educator. I
had rather dwell six months in a tent, with Mark Hopkins, and live on
bread and water, than to take a six years’ course in the grandest brick
and mortar university on the continent.”
With graduation came separation. The favorite walks around Williamstown
were taken for the last time. The last farewells were said, the last
grasp of the hand given, and Garfield turned his face toward his Ohio
home. He was at once elected instructor in the ancient languages at the
Western Eclectic Institute, later known as Hiram College. Two years
later he became president of this institution, overrun with its four
hundred pupils. The activities of the man during this period were
immense. Following his own ideas of teaching, he surcharged the
institution with his personality. The younger student, on entering,
_felt_ the busy life which animated the place. With his teaching,
Garfield kept up an enormous amount of outside reading; he delivered
lectures on scientific and miscellaneous subjects, making some money by
it; he engaged in public debates on theologic and scientific questions;
he took the stump for the Republican party; on Sundays he preached in
the Disciples Church; in 1857 he took up the study of the law, mastered
its fundamental principles, and was admitted to practice at the
Cleveland bar on a certificate of two years’ study. Yet with all this
load on him, he impressed himself on each pupil in Hiram College as a
personal friend. One of these, Rev. J. L. Darsie, gives a vivid picture
of Garfield at this time:
“I recall vividly his method of teaching. He took very kindly to me,
and assisted me in various ways, because I was poor and was janitor
of the buildings, and swept them out in the morning and built the
fires, as he had done only six years before, when he was a pupil at
the same school. He was full of animal spirits, and he used to run
out on the green almost every day and play cricket with us. He was a
tall, strong man, but dreadfully awkward. Every now and then he
would get a hit on the nose, and he muffed his ball and lost his hat
as a regular thing. He was left-handed, too, and that made him seem
all the clumsier. But he was most powerful and very quick, and it
was easy for us to understand how it was that he had acquired the
reputation of whipping all the other mule-drivers on the canal, and
of making himself the hero of that thoroughfare when he followed its
tow-path ten years earlier.
“No matter how old the pupils were, Garfield always called us by our
first names, and kept himself on the most familiar terms with all.
He played with us freely, scuffled with us sometimes, walked with us
in walking to and fro, and we treated him out of the class-room just
about as we did one another. Yet he was a most strict
disciplinarian, and enforced the rules like a martinet. He combined
an affectionate and confiding manner with respect for order in a
most successful manner. If he wanted to speak to a pupil, either for
reproof or approbation, he would generally manage to get one arm
around him and draw him close up to him. He had a peculiar way of
shaking hands, too, giving a twist to your arm and drawing you right
up to him. This sympathetic manner has helped him to advancement.
When I was janitor he used sometimes to stop me and ask my opinion
about this and that, as if seriously advising with me. I can see now
that my opinion could not have been of any value, and that he
probably asked me partly to increase my self-respect, and partly to
show me that he felt an interest in me. I certainly was his friend
all the firmer for it.
“I remember once asking him what was the best way to pursue a
certain study, and he said: ‘Use several text-books. Get the views
of different authors as you advance. In that way you can plow a
broader furrow. I always study in that way.’ He tried hard to teach
us to observe carefully and accurately. He was the keenest observer
I ever saw. I think he noticed and numbered every button on our
coats.
“Mr. Garfield was very fond of lecturing to the school. He spoke two
or three times a week, on all manner of topics, generally
scientific, though sometimes literary or historical. He spoke with
great freedom, never writing out what he had to say, and I now think
that his lectures were a rapid compilation of his current reading,
and that he threw it into this form partly for the purpose of
impressing it on his own mind.
“At the time I was at school at Hiram, Principal Garfield was a
great reader, not omnivorous, but methodical, and in certain lines.
He was the most industrious man I ever knew or heard of. At one time
he delivered lectures on geology, held public debates on
spiritualism, preached on Sunday, conducted the recitations of five
or six classes every day, attended to all the financial affairs of
the school, was an active member of the legislature, and studied law
to be admitted to the bar. He has often said that he never could
have performed this labor if it had not been for the assistance of
two gifted and earnest women,—Mrs. Garfield herself, his early
schoolmate, who had followed her husband in his studies; and Miss
Almeda A. Booth, a member of the faculty. The latter was a graduate
of Oberlin, and had been a teacher of young Garfield when he was a
pupil; and now that he had returned as head of the faculty, she
continued to serve him in a sort of motherly way as tutor and guide.
When Garfield had speeches to make in the legislature or on the
stump, or lectures to deliver, these two ladies ransacked the
library by day, and collected facts and marked books for his
digestion and use in the preparation of the discourses at night.”
In the canvass of 1877, after one of his powerful stump speeches,
Garfield was lying on the grass, talking to an old friend of these Hiram
days. Said he:
“I have taken more solid comfort in the thing itself, and received
more moral recompense and stimulus in after-life from capturing
young men for an education than from any thing else in the world.”
“As I look back over my life thus far,” he continued, “I think of
nothing that so fills me with pleasure as the planning of these
sieges, the revolving in my mind of plans for scaling the walls of
the fortress; of gaining access to the inner soul-life, and at last
seeing the besieged party won to a fuller appreciation of himself,
to a higher conception of life, and to the part he is to bear in it.
The principal guards which I have found it necessary to overcome in
gaining these victories are the parents or guardians of the young
men themselves. I particularly remember two such instances of
capturing young men from their parents. Both of those boys are
to-day educators of wide reputation—one president of a college, the
other high in the ranks of graded school managers. Neither, in my
opinion, would to-day have been above the commonest walks of life
unless I or some one else had captured him. There is a period in
every young man’s life when a very small thing will turn him one way
or the other. He is distrustful of himself, and uncertain as to what
he should do. His parents are poor, perhaps, and argue that he has
more education than they ever obtained, and that it is enough. These
parents are sometimes a little too anxious in regard to what their
boys are going to do when they get through with their college
course. They talk to the young men too much, and I have noticed that
the boy who will make the best man is sometimes most ready to doubt
himself. I always remember the turning period in my own life, and
pity a young man at this stage from the bottom of my heart. One of
the young men I refer to came to me on the closing day of the spring
term and bade me good-bye at my study. I noticed that he awkwardly
lingered after I expected him to go, and had turned to my writing
again. ‘I suppose you will be back again in the fall, Henry,’ I
said, to fill in the vacuum. He did not answer, and, turning toward
him, I noticed that his eyes were filled with tears, and that his
countenance was undergoing contortions of pain.
“He at length managed to stammer out: ‘No, I am not coming back to
Hiram any more. Father says I have got education enough, and that he
needs me to work on the farm; that education don’t help along a
farmer any.’
“‘Is your father here?’ I asked, almost as much affected by the
statement as the boy himself. He was a peculiarly bright boy—one of
those strong, awkward, bashful, blonde, large-headed fellows, such
as make men. He was not a prodigy by any means. But he knew what
work meant, and when he had won a thing by the true endeavor, he
knew its value.
“‘Yes, father is here, and is taking my things home for good,’ said
the boy, more affected than ever.
“‘Well, don’t feel badly,’ I said. ‘Please tell him that Mr.
Garfield would like to see him at his study before he leaves the
village. Don’t tell him that it is about you, but simply that I want
to see him.’ In the course of half an hour the old gentleman, a
robust specimen of a Western Reserve Yankee, came into the room, and
awkwardly sat down. I knew something of the man before, and I
thought I knew how to begin. I shot right at the bull’s-eye
immediately.
“‘So you have come up to take Henry home with you, have you?’ The
old gentleman answered: ‘Yes.’ ‘I sent for you because I wanted to
have a little talk with you about Henry’s future. He is coming back
again in the fall, I hope?’
“‘Wal, I think not. I don’t reckon I can afford to send him any
more. He’s got eddication enough for a farmer already, and I notice
that when they git too much they sorter git lazy. Yer eddicated
farmers are humbugs. Henry’s got so far ’long now that he’d rother
hev his head in a book than be workin’. He don’t take no interest in
the stock, nor in the farm improvements. Every body else is
dependent in this world on the farmer, and I think that we’ve got
too many eddicated fellows settin’ round now for the farmers to
support.’
“‘I am sorry to hear you talk so,’ I said; ‘for really I consider
Henry one of the brightest and most faithful students I ever had. I
have taken a very deep interest in him. What I wanted to say to you
was, that the matter of educating him has largely been a constant
out-go thus far; but, if he is permitted to come next fall term, he
will be far enough advanced so that he can teach school in the
winter, and begin to help himself and you along. He can earn very
little on the farm in winter, and he can get very good wages
teaching. How does that strike you?’
“The idea was a new and a good one to him. He simply remarked: ‘Do
you really think he can teach next winter?’
“‘I should think so, certainly,’ I replied. ‘But if he can not do so
then, he can in a short time, anyhow.’
“‘Wal, I will think on it. He wants to come back bad enough, and I
guess I’ll have to let him. I never thought of it that way afore.’
“I knew I was safe. It was the financial question that troubled the
old gentleman, and I knew that would be overcome when Henry got to
teaching, and could earn his money himself. He would then be so far
along, too, that he could fight his own battles. He came all right
the next fall; and, after finishing at Hiram, graduated at an
Eastern college.”
“The other man I spoke of was a different case. I knew that this
youth was going to leave mainly for financial reasons also, but I
understood his father well enough to know that the matter must be
managed with exceeding delicacy. He was a man of very strong
religious convictions, and I thought he might be approached from
that side of his character; so when I got the letter of the son
telling me, in the saddest language that he could muster, that he
could not come back to school any more, but must be content to be
simply a farmer, much as it was against his inclination, I revolved
the matter in my mind, and decided to send an appointment to preach
in the little country church where the old gentleman attended. I
took for a subject the parable of the talents, and, in the course of
my discourse, dwelt specially upon the fact that children were the
talents which had been intrusted to parents, and, if these talents
were not increased and developed, there was a fearful trust
neglected. After church, I called upon the parents of the boy I was
besieging, and I saw that something was weighing upon their minds.
At length the subject of the discourse was taken up and gone over
again, and, in due course, the young man himself was discussed, and
I gave my opinion that he should, by all means, be encouraged and
assisted in taking a thorough course of study. I gave my opinion
that there was nothing more important to the parent than to do all
in his power for the child. The next term the young man again
appeared upon Hiram Hill, and remained pretty continuously till
graduation.”
One relic of his famous debates at this time, on the subject of
Christianity, still exists in a letter written to President Hinsdale,
which we give:
“HIRAM, January 10, 1859.
“The Sunday after the debate I spoke in Solon on ‘Geology and
Religion,’ and had an immense audience. Many Spiritualists were
out.... The reports I hear from the debate are much more decisive
than I expected to hear. I received a letter from Bro. Collins, of
Chagrin, in which he says: ‘Since the smoke of the battle has
partially cleared away, we begin to see more clearly the victory we
have gained.’ I have yet to see the first man who claims that Denton
explains his position; but they are all jubilant over his attack on
the Bible. What you suggest ought to be done I am about to
undertake. I go there next Friday or Saturday evening, and remain
over Sunday. I am bound to carry the war into Carthage, and pursue
that miserable atheism to its hole.
“Bro. Collins says that a few Christians are quite unsettled because
Denton said, and I admit, that the world has existed for millions of
years. I am astonished at the ignorance of the masses on these
subjects. Hugh Miller has it right when he says that ‘the battle of
the evidences must now be fought on the field of the natural
sciences.’”
In the year preceding the date which this letter bears, the sweet
romance of his youth reached its fruition, in the marriage of Garfield
to Lucretia Rudolph. During the years which of necessity elapsed since
the first-whispered vows, on the eve of his departure to Williams, the
loving, girlish heart had been true. They began life, “for better for
worse,” in an humble cottage fronting on the waving green of the college
campus. In their happy hearts rose no picture of another cottage,
fronting on the ocean, where, in the distant years, what God had joined
man was to put asunder. Well for them was it that God veiled the future
from them.
But the enormous activities already enumerated of this man did not
satisfy his unexhausted powers. The political opinions formed at college
began to bear fruit. In those memorable years just preceding the
outbreak of the Rebellion—the years “when the grasping power of slavery
was seizing the virgin territories of the West, and dragging them into
the den of eternal bondage;” the years of the underground railroad and
of the fugitive slave law; of the overseer and the blood-hound; the
years of John Brown’s heroic attempt to incite an insurrection of the
slaves themselves, such as had swept every shackle from San Domingo; of
his mockery trial, paralleled only by those of Socrates and Jesus, and
of his awful martyrdom,—the genius of the man, whose history this is,
was not asleep. The instincts of resistance to oppression, and of
sympathy for the oppressed, which he inherited from his dauntless
ancestry, began to stir within him. As the times became more and more
stormy, his spirit rose with the emergency, and he threw his strength
into political speeches. Already looked upon as the rising man of his
portion of the State, it was natural that the people should turn to him
for leadership. In 1859, he was nominated and elected to the State
Senate, as member from Portage and Summit counties.
The circumstances attending Garfield’s first nomination for office are
worthy to be recounted. It was in 1859, an off year in politics. Portage
County was a doubtful battle-field; generally it had gone Democratic,
but the Republicans had hopes when the ticket was fortified with strong
names. The convention was held in August, in the town of Ravenna. There
was a good deal of beating about to find a suitable candidate for State
Senator. At length a member of the convention arose and said:
“Gentlemen, I can name a man whose standing, character, ability and
industry will carry the county. It is President Garfield, of the Hiram
school.” The proposition took with the convention, and Garfield was
thereupon nominated by acclamation.
It was doubtful whether he would accept. The leaders of the church
stoutly opposed his entering into politics. It would ruin his character,
they said. At Chagrin Falls, at Solon, at Hiram and other places where
he had occasionally preached in the Disciples’ meeting-houses, there was
alarm at the prospect of the popular young professor going off into the
vain struggle of worldly ambition. In this juncture of affairs, the
yearly meeting of the Disciples took place in Cuyahoga County, and among
other topics of discussion, the Garfield matter was much debated. Some
regretted it; others denounced it; a few could not see why he should not
accept the nomination. “Can not a man,” said they, “be a gentleman and a
politician too?” In the afternoon Garfield himself came into the
meeting. Many besought him not to accept the nomination. He heard what
they had to say. He took counsel with a few trusted friends, and then
made up his mind. “I believe,” said he, “that I can enter political life
and retain my integrity, manhood and religion. I believe that there is
vastly more need of manly men in politics than of preachers. You know I
never deliberately decided to follow preaching as a life work any more
than teaching. Circumstances have led me into both callings. The desire
of brethren to have me preach and teach for them, a desire to do good in
all ways that I could, and to earn, in noble callings, something to pay
my way through a course of study, and to discharge debts, and the
discipline and cultivation of mind in preaching and teaching, and the
exalted topics for investigation in teaching and preaching, have led me
into both callings. I have never intended to devote my life to either,
or both; although lately Providence seemed to be hedging my way and
crowding me into the ministry. I have always intended to be a lawyer,
and perhaps to enter political life. Such has been my secret ambition
ever since I thought of such things. I have been reading law for some
time. This nomination opens the way, I believe, for me to enter into the
life work I have always preferred. I have made up my mind. Mother is at
Jason Robbins’. I will go there and talk with her. She has had a hope
and desire that I would devote my life to preaching ever since I joined
the church. My success as a preacher has been a great satisfaction to
her. She regarded it as the fulfillment of her wishes, and has, of late,
regarded the matter as settled. If she will give her consent, I will
accept the nomination.”
He accordingly went to his mother, and received this reply: “James, I
have had a hope and a desire, ever since you joined the church, that you
would preach. I have been happy in your success as a preacher, and
regarded it as an answer to my prayers. Of late, I had regarded the
matter as settled. But I do not want my wishes to lead you into a life
work that you do not prefer to all others—much less into the ministry,
unless your heart is in it. If you can retain your manhood and religion
in political life, and believe you can do the most good there, you have
my full consent and prayers for your success. A mother’s prayers and
blessing will be yours.” With this answer as his assurance, he accepted
the nomination, and placed his foot on the first round in the aspiring
ladder.
From this time on, Garfield ceased forever to be a private citizen, and
must thereafter be looked on as a public man. Twenty-eight year of age,
a giant in body and mind, of spotless honor and tireless industry, it
was inevitable that Garfield should become a leader of the Ohio Senate.
During his first winter in the legislature, his powers of debate and his
varied knowledge gave him conspicuous rank. A committee report, drawn by
his hand, upon the Geological Survey of Ohio, is a State document of
high order, revealing a scientific knowledge and a power to group
statistics and render them effective, which would be looked at with
wide-eyed wonder by the modern State legislator. Another report on the
care of pauper children; and a third, on the legal regulation of weights
and measures, presenting a succinct sketch of the attempts at the thing,
both in Europe and America, are equally notable as completely out of the
ordinary rut of such papers. During this and the following more exciting
winter at Columbus, he, somehow, found time to gratify his passion for
literature, spending many evenings in the State library, and carrying
out an elaborate system of annotation. But Garfield’s chief activities
in the Ohio legislature did not lie in the direction of peace. The times
became electric. Men felt that a terrible crisis upon the slavery and
States-rights questions was approaching. The campaign of 1860, in which
Abraham Lincoln, the Great Unknown, was put forward as the
representative of the antislavery party, was in progress. In the midst
of the popular alarm, which was spreading like sheet lightning over the
Republic, Garfield’s faith in the perpetuity of the nation was unshaken.
His oration at Ravenna, Ohio, on July 4, 1860, contains the following
passage:
“Our nation’s future—shall it be perpetual? Shall the expanding
circle of its beneficent influence extend, widening onward to the
farthest shore of time? Shall its sun rise higher and yet higher,
and shine with ever-brightening luster? Or, has it passed the zenith
of its glory, and left us to sit in the lengthening shadows of its
coming night? Shall power from beyond the sea snatch the proud
banner from us? _Shall civil dissension or intestine strife rend the
fair fabric of the Union?_ The rulers of the Old World have long and
impatiently looked to see fulfilled the prophecy of its downfall.
Such philosophers as Coleridge, Alison and Macaulay have, severally,
set forth the reasons for this prophecy—the chief of which is, that
the element of stability in our Government will sooner or later
bring upon it certain destruction. This is truly a grave charge. But
whether instability is an element of destruction or of safety,
depends wholly upon the sources whence that instability springs.
“The granite hills are not so changeless and abiding as the restless
sea. Quiet is no certain pledge of permanence and safety. Trees may
flourish and flowers may bloom upon the quiet mountain side, while
silently the trickling rain-drops are filling the deep cavern behind
its rocky barriers, which, by and by, in a single moment, shall hurl
to wild ruin its treacherous peace. It is true, that in our land
there is no such outer quiet, no such deceitful repose. Here society
is a restless and surging sea. The roar of the billows, the dash of
the wave, is forever in our ears. Even the angry hoarseness of
breakers is not unheard. But there is an understratum of deep, calm
sea, which the breath of the wildest tempest can never reach. There
is, deep down in the hearts of the American people, a strong and
abiding love of our country and its liberty, which no surface-storms
of passion can ever shake. That kind of instability which arises
from a free movement and interchange of position among the members
of society, which brings one drop to glisten for a time in the crest
of the highest wave, and then gives place to another, while it goes
down to mingle again with the millions below; such instability is
the surest pledge of permanence. On such instability the eternal
fixedness of the universe is based. Each planet, in its circling
orbit, returns to the goal of its departure, and on the balance of
these wildly-rolling spheres God has planted the broad base of His
mighty works. So the hope of our national perpetuity rests upon that
perfect individual freedom, which shall forever keep up the circuit
of perpetual change. God forbid that the waters of our national life
should ever settle to the dead level of a waveless calm. It would be
the stagnation of death—the ocean grave of individual liberty.”
Meanwhile blacker and blacker grew the horizon. Abraham Lincoln was
elected President, but it brought no comfort to the anxious North. Yet,
even then, but few men thought of war. The winter of 1860–’61 came on,
and with it the reassembling of the State legislatures. Rising with the
emergency Garfield’s statesmanship foresaw the black and horrible fate
of civil war. The following letter by him to his friend, President
Hinsdale, was prophetic of the war, and of the rise of an Unknown to
“ride upon the storm and direct it”:
COLUMBUS, January 15, 1861.
“My heart and thoughts are full almost every moment with the
terrible reality of our country’s condition. We have learned so long
to look upon the convulsions of European states as things wholly
impossible here, that the people are slow in coming to the belief
that there may be any breaking up of our institutions, but stern,
awful certainty is fastening upon the hearts of men. _I do not see
any way, outside a miracle of God, which can avoid civil war, with
all its attendant horrors._ Peaceable dissolution is utterly
impossible. Indeed, I can not say that I would wish it possible. To
make the concessions demanded by the South would be hypocritical and
sinful; they would neither be obeyed nor respected. I am inclined to
believe that the sin of slavery is one of which it may be said that
without the shedding of blood there is no remission. All that is
left us as a State, or say as a company of Northern States, is to
arm and prepare to defend ourselves and the Federal Government. I
believe the doom of slavery is drawing near. Let war come, and the
slaves will get the vague notion that it is waged for them, and a
magazine will be lighted whose explosion will shake the whole fabric
of slavery. Even if all this happen, I can not yet abandon the
belief that one government will rule this continent, and its people
be one people.
“Meantime, what will be the influence of the times on individuals?
Your question is very interesting and suggestive. The doubt that
hangs over the whole issue bears touching also. It may be the duty
of our young men to join the army, or they may be drafted without
their own consent. If neither of these things happen, there will be
a period when old men and young will be electrified by the spirit of
the times, and one result will be to make every individuality more
marked, and their opinions more decisive. I believe the times will
be even more favorable than calm ones for the formation of strong
will and forcible characters.
* * * * *
“Just at this time (have you observed the fact?) we have no man who
has power to ride upon the storm and direct it. The hour has come,
but not the man. The crisis will make many such. But I do not love
to speculate on so painful a theme. I am chosen to respond to a
toast on the Union at the State Printers’ Festival here next
Thursday evening. It is a sad and difficult theme at this time.”
This letter is the key to Garfield’s record in the Ohio Senate. On the
24th of January he championed a bill to raise and equip 6,000 State
militia. The timid, conservative and politically blind members of the
legislature he worked with both day and night, both on and off the floor
of the Senate, to prepare them for the crisis which his genius foresaw.
But as his prophetic vision leaped from peak to peak of the mountain
difficulties of the future, he saw not only armies in front, but
traitors in the rear. He drew up and put through to its passage a bill
defining treason—“providing that when Ohio’s soldiers go forth to
maintain the Union, there shall be no treacherous fire in the rear.”
In the hour of darkness his trumpet gave no uncertain sound. He was for
coercion, without delay or doubt.
He was the leader of what was known as the “Radical Triumvirate,”
composed of J. D. Cox, James Monroe, and himself—the three men who, by
their exhaustless efforts, wheeled Ohio into line for the war. The Ohio
legislature was as blind as a bat. _Two days after Sumter had been fired
on, the Ohio Senate, over the desperate protests of the man who had for
months foreseen the war, passed the Corwin Constitutional Amendment,
providing that Congress should have no power ever to legislate on the
question of slavery!_ Notwithstanding this blindness, through the
indomitable zeal of Garfield and his colleagues, Ohio was the first
State in the North to reach a war footing. When Lincoln’s call for
75,000 men reached the legislature, Senator Garfield was on his feet
instantly, moving, amid tumultuous cheers, that 20,000 men and
$3,000,000 be voted as Ohio’s quota. In this ordeal, the militia
formerly organized proved a valuable help.
The inner history of this time will probably never be fully written.
Almost every Northern legislative hall, particularly in border States,
was the scene of a _coup d’état_. Without law or precedent, a few
determined men broke down the obstacles with which treason hedged the
path of patriotism. As we have said, the inner history of those high and
gallant services, of the midnight counsels, the forced loans, the
unauthorized proclamations, will never be written. All that will be
known to history will be that, when the storm of treason broke, every
Northern State wheeled into line of battle; and it is enough.
Of Garfield it is known that he became at once Governor Dennison’s
valued adviser and aid. The story of one of his services to the Union
has leaked out. After the attack on Sumter, the State capital was
thronged with men ready to go to war, but there were no guns. Soldiers
without guns were a mockery. In this extremity it was found out that at
the Illinois arsenal was a large quantity of muskets. Instantly,
Garfield started to Illinois with a requisition. By swift diplomacy he
secured and shipped to Columbus five thousand stand of arms, a prize
valued at the time more than so many recruits. But while the interior
history of the times will never be fully known, the exterior scenes are
still fresh in memory. The opening of the muster-rolls, the incessant
music of martial bands, the waving of banners, the shouts of the
drill-sergeant, the departure of crowded trains carrying the brave and
true to awful fields of blood and glory,—all this we know and remember.
The Civil War was upon us, and James A. Garfield, in the morning of his
power, was to become a soldier of the Union.
CHAPTER IV.
A SOLDIER OF THE UNION.
And there was mounting in hot haste—the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war!—_Byron._
Honor to the West Point soldier! War is his business, and, wicked though
wars be, the warrior shall still receive his honor due. By his devotion
to rugged discipline, the professional soldier preserves war as a
science, so that armies may not be rabbles, but organizations. He
divests himself of the full freedom of a citizen, and puts himself under
orders for all time.
One of our ablest leaders in the Civil War was General George H. Thomas.
Of Thomas we learn, from an address of Garfield, that “in the army he
never leaped a grade, either in rank or command. He did not command a
company until after long service as a lieutenant. He commanded a
regiment only at the end of many years of company and garrison duty. He
did not command a brigade until after he had commanded his regiment
three years on the Indian frontier. He did not command a division until
after he had mustered in, organized, disciplined, and commanded a
brigade. He did not command a corps until he had led his division in
battle, and through many hundred miles of hostile country. He did not
command the army until, in battle, at the head of his corps, he had
saved it from ruin.” This is apprenticeship with all its hardships, but
with all its benefits.
In our popular praises of the wonders performed by the great armies of
citizens which sprang up in a few days, let it never be forgotten that
the regular army, with its discipline, was the “little leaven” which
spread its martial virtues through the entire forces; that the West
Point soldier was the man whose skill organized these grand armies, and
made it possible for them to gain their victories.
[Illustration: GENERAL GEORGE H. THOMAS.]
Honor to the volunteer soldier! He is history’s greatest hero. What kind
of apprenticeship for war has _he_ served? To learn this, let us go back
to the peaceful time of 1860, when the grim-visaged monster’s “wrinkled
front” was yet smooth. Now, look through the great ironworking district
of Pennsylvania, with its miles of red-mouthed furnaces, its thousand
kinds of manufactures, and its ten thousands of skilled workmen. Number
the civil engineers; count the miners; go into the various places where
crude metals and other materials are worked up into every shape known,
to meet the necessities of the modern arts. These are the sources of
military power. Here are the men who will build bridges, and equip
railroads for army transportation, almost in the twinkling of an eye.
Cast your mind’s eye back into all the corners of the land, obscure or
conspicuous, and in every place you shall see soldiers being trained.
They are not yet in line, and it does not look like a military array;
the farmer at his plow, the scholar and the professional man at the
desk, are all getting ready to be soldiers. No nation is better prepared
for war than one which has been at peace; for war is a consumer of arts,
of life, of physical resources. And we had a reserve of those very
things accumulating, as we still have all the time.
Europe, with its standing armies, stores gunpowder in guarded magazines.
America has the secret of gunpowder, and uses the saltpeter and other
elements for civil purposes; believing that there is more explosive
power in knowing how to make an ounce of powder than there is in the
actual ownership of a thousand tons of the very stuff itself. The
Federal army had not gone through years of discipline in camp, but it
was no motley crowd. Its units were not machines; they were better than
machines; they were men.
James A. Garfield became a volunteer, a citizen soldier. The manner of
his going into the army was as strikingly characteristic of him as any
act of his life. In a letter written from Cleveland, on June 14, 1861,
to his life-long friend, B. A. Hinsdale, he said:
“The Lieutenant-Colonelcy of the Twenty-fourth Regiment has been
tendered to me, and the Governor urges me to accept. I am greatly
perplexed on the question of duty. I shall decide by Monday next.”
But he did not then go. For such a man, capable of so many things, duty
had many calls, in so many different directions, that he could not
easily decide. How Garfield was affected by the temptation to go at once
may be seen in a letter of July 12, 1861, written from Hiram, to
Hinsdale, wherein he says: “I hardly knew myself, till the trial came,
how much of a struggle it would cost me to give up going into the army.
I found I had so fully interested myself in the war that I hardly felt
it possible for me not to be a part of the movement. But there were so
many who could fill the office tendered to me, and would covet the
place, more than could do my work here, perhaps, that I could not but
feel it would be to some extent a reckless disregard of the good of
others to accept. If there had been a scarcity of volunteers I should
have accepted. The time may yet come when I shall feel it right and
necessary to go; but I thought, on the whole, that time had not yet
come.”
But the time was at hand. Garfield had become known and appreciated, and
he was wanted. On July 27, Governor Dennison wrote to him: “I am
organizing some new regiments. Can you take a lieutenant-colonelcy? I am
anxious you should do so. Reply by telegraph.” Garfield was not at home
when this letter was sent, but found it waiting for him on his return,
August 7. That night was passed in solemn thought and prayer; face to
face with his country’s call, this man began to realize as he had not
before done, what “going to war” meant. He began to consider the
sacrifice which must be made, and found that in his case there was more
to give up than with most men. How many thousands of volunteers have
thought the same! Garfield’s prospects in life were very fine in the
line of work for which he had prepared himself. He was a fine scholar,
and on the road to distinguished success. Moreover, he had a dearly
loved wife and a little child, his soul’s idol. Who would provide for
them after the war if he should fall victim to a Southern bullet? He had
only three thousand dollars to leave them. After all, willing as he was,
it was no easy thing to do. So it took a night of hard study; a night of
prayer, a night of Bible reading, a night of struggle with the awful
call to arms; but when the morning dawned, a great crisis had passed,
and a final decision had been made. The letter of Governor Dennison was
answered that he would accept a lieutenant-colonelcy, provided the
colonel of the regiment was a Wrest Point graduate. The condition was
complied with already. On the 16th of August, Garfield reported for
duty, and received his commission. His first order was to “report in
person to Brigadier-General Hill, for such duty as he may assign to you
in connection with a temporary command for purposes of instruction in
camp-duty and discipline.” In pursuance of these instructions he went
immediately to Hill’s head-quarters at Camp Chase, near Columbus. Here
he staid during the next four months, studying the art of war; being
absent only at short periods when in the recruiting service. In the
business of raising troops he was very successful. The Forty-second O.
V. I. was about to be organized, and Garfield raised the first company.
It was in this wise: Late in August he returned to Hiram and announced
that at a certain time he would speak on the subject of the war and its
needs, especially of men. A full house greeted him at the appointed
hour. He made an eloquent appeal, at the close of which a large
enrollment took place, including sixty Hiram students. In a few days the
company was full, and he took them to Camp Chase, where they were named
Company A, and assigned to the right of the still unformed regiment. On
September 5th, Garfield was made Colonel, and pushed forward the work,
so that in November the requisite number was secured.
Meanwhile the work of study and discipline was carried on at Camp Chase
with even more than Garfield’s customary zeal. The new Colonel was not
an unwilling citizen in a soldier’s uniform. He had been transformed
through and through into a military man. He himself shall tell the
story:
“I have had a curious interest in watching the process in my own
mind, by which the fabric of my life is being demolished and
reconstructed, to meet the new condition of affairs. One by one my
old plans and aims, modes of thought and feeling, are found to be
inconsistent with present duty, and are set aside to give place to
the new structure of military life. It is not without a regret,
almost tearful at times, that I look upon the ruins. But if, as the
result of the broken plans and shattered individual lives of
thousands of American citizens, we can see on the ruins of our old
national errors a new and enduring fabric arise, based on larger
freedom and higher justice, it will be a small sacrifice indeed. For
myself I am contented with such a prospect, and, regarding my life
as given to the country, am only anxious to make as much of it as
possible before the mortgage upon it is foreclosed.”
During the fall of 1861, Colonel Garfield had to perform three duties.
First, to learn the tactics and study the books on military affairs;
second, to initiate his officers into the like mysteries, and see that
they became well informed; and, finally, to so discipline and drill the
whole regiment that they would be ready at an early day to go to the
front. In pursuance of these objects he devoted to their accomplishment
his entire time. At night, when alone, he studied, probably even harder
than he had ever done as a boy at Hiram. For there he had studied with a
purpose in view, but remote; here the end was near, and knowledge was
power in deed as well as word. Every-day recitations were held of the
officers, and this college President in a few weeks graduated a
well-trained military class. The Forty-second Regiment itself, thus
well-officered, and composed of young men of intelligence, the very
flower of the Western Reserve, was drilled several hours every day with
the most careful attention. Every thing was done promptly, all things
were in order, for the Colonel had his eye on each man, and the Colonel
knew the equipments and condition of his regiment better than any other
man. After all, great events generally have visibly adequate causes; and
when we see Garfield’s men win a victory the first time they see the
enemy, we shall not be surprised, for we can not think how it could be
otherwise.
On December 15th an order came which indicated that the Forty-second was
wanted in Kentucky. General Buell was Commander of the Department of the
Ohio. His head-quarters were at Louisville. At nine o’clock on the
evening of the 16th they reached Cincinnati. From this point, in
compliance with new orders received, the regiment was sent on down the
Ohio to Catlettsburg, where a few hundred Union troops were gathered
already; and Garfield himself went to Louisville to learn the nature of
the work he had before him. Arriving on the evening of the 16th, he
reported to his superior at once.
Don Carlos Buell was at this time forty-three years of age; a man
accomplished in military science and experienced in war. He had first
learned the theory of his business at West Point, where he had graduated
in 1842; and besides other service to his country he had distinguished
himself in the war with Mexico. What a contrast to Garfield! The latter
was only thirty years of age, and just five years out of college. The
only knowledge he possessed to prepare him for carrying out the still
unknown duty, had been gathered out of books; which, by the way, are not
equal to West Point nor to a war for learning how to fight. Now what
could be the enterprise in which the untried Forty-second should bear a
part? And who is the old head, the battle-scarred hero, to lead the
expedition? We shall see.
Taking a map of Kentucky, Buell briefly showed Garfield a problem, and
told him to solve it. In a word, the question was, how shall the
Confederate forces be chased out of Kentucky? The rebels badly needed
Kentucky; so did the Union. Having shown Garfield what the business was,
Buell told him to go to his quarters for the night, and at nine o’clock
next morning be ready to submit his plan for a campaign. Garfield
immediately shut himself up in a room, with no company but a map of
Kentucky. The situation was as follows: Humphrey Marshall, with several
thousand Confederate troops, was rapidly taking possession of eastern
Kentucky. Entering from Virginia, through Pound Gap, he had quickly
crossed Pike County into Floyd, where he had fortified himself,
somewhere not far from Prestonburg, and was preparing to increase his
force and advance farther. His present situation was at the head of the
Big Sandy River. Catlettsburg, where the Forty-second had gone, is at
the mouth of this river.
Also, on the southern border, an invasion from Tennessee was being made
by a body of the Confederates, under Zollicoffer. These were advancing
toward Mill Spring, and the intention was that Zollicoffer and Marshall
should join their forces, and so increase the rebel influence in the
State that secession would immediately follow. For Kentucky had refused
to secede, and this invasion of her soil was a violation of that very
cause of State’s Rights for which they were fighting.
Garfield studied this subject with tireless attention, and when day
dawned he was also beginning to see daylight. At nine o’clock he
reported. The plan he recommended was, in substance, that a regiment be
left, first, some distance in the interior, say at Paris or Lexington,
this mainly for effect on the people of that section. The next thing was
to proceed up the Big Sandy River against Marshall, and run him back
into Virginia; after which it would be in order to move westward, and,
in conjunction with other forces, keep the State from falling into
hostile hands. Meanwhile, Zollicoffer would have to be taken off by a
separate expedition.
Buell stood beside his young Colonel and listened. He glanced at the
outline of the proposed campaign and saw that it was wisely planned. As
a result—for Buell did nothing hastily—Colonel Garfield was told that
his instructions would be prepared soon, and he might call at six that
evening. That evening he came, and learned the contents of Order No. 35,
Army of the Ohio, which organized the Eighteenth Brigade, under the
command of James A. Garfield, Colonel of the Forty-second O. V. I. The
brigade itself was made up of the last-named regiment, the Fortieth O.
V. I., Colonel J. Cranor; Fourteenth K. V. I., Colonel L. D. F. Moore;
Twenty-second K. V. I., Colonel D. W. Landsay, and eight companies of
cavalry.
Buell’s instructions were contained in the following letter:
“HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE OHIO, Louisville, Ky., Dec. 17, 1861.
“_Sir_: The brigade organized under your command is intended to
operate against the rebel force threatening, and, indeed, actually
committing depredations in Kentucky, through the valley of the Big
Sandy. The actual force of the enemy, from the best information I
can gather, does not probably exceed two thousand, or twenty-five
hundred, though rumors place it as high as seven thousand. I can
better ascertain the true state of the case when you get on the
ground.
“You are apprised of the condition of the troops under your command.
Go first to Lexington and Paris, and place the Fortieth Ohio
Regiment in such a position as will best give a moral support to the
people in the counties on the route to Prestonburg and Piketon, and
oppose any further advance of the enemy on the route. Then proceed
with the least possible delay to the mouth of the Sandy, and move
with the force in that vicinity up that river and drive the enemy
back or cut him off. Having done that, Piketon will probably be in
the best position for you to occupy to guard against future
incursions. Artillery will be of little, if any, service to you in
that country. If the enemy have any it will incumber and weaken
rather than strengthen them.
“Your supplies must mainly be taken up the river, and it ought to be
done as soon as possible, while navigation is open. Purchase what
you can in the country through which you operate. Send your
requisitions to these head-quarters for funds and ordnance stores,
and to the quartermasters and commissary at Cincinnati for other
supplies.
“The conversation I have had with you will suggest more details than
can be given here. Report frequently on all matters concerning your
command. Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
“D. C. BUELL,
“Brigadier-General commanding.”
On receipt of these instructions, Garfield began instantly to carry them
out. He telegraphed his forces at Catlettsburg to advance up the Big
Sandy towards Paintville, Marshall’s advance post. This he did that no
delay should be occasioned by his absence. He then visited Colonel
Cranor’s regiment, and saw it well established at Paris. Returning
thence, he proceeded to hasten after his own regiment, and reached
Catlettsburg on the 20th of December. Here he stopped to forward
supplies up the river to Louisa, an old half-decayed village of the
Southern kind, where he learned that his men were waiting for him.
It was on this march from Catlettsburg to Louisa that the Forty-second
Ohio began, for the first time, that process of seasoning which soon
made veterans out of raw civilians. The hardships of that march were not
such as an old soldier would think terrible; but for men who but five
days before had left Columbus without any experience whatever, it was
very rough. On the morning of the eighteenth the first division started,
twenty-five mounted on horses, and one hundred going by boat. The
cavalry got on very well; but the river was quite low, and after a few
miles of bumping along, the old boat finally stuck fast. Leaving this
wrecked concern, the men started to tramp it overland. The country was
exceedingly wild; the paths narrow, leading up hill and down hill with
monotonous regularity. That night when the tired fellows stopped to
rest, they had advanced only eight miles. The next day, however, they
reached Louisa, where the mounted company had taken possession and
prepared to stay; meanwhile the remaining companies were on the road.
Rain set in; the north wind blew, and soon it was very cold. The steep,
rocky paths scarcely afforded room for the wagon-train, whose
conveyances were lightened of their loads by throwing off many articles
of comfort which these soldiers, with their unwarlike notions of life,
hated to lose. But advance they must, if only with knapsacks and
muskets; and on the twenty-first all were together again. About this
time Garfield arrived.
Paintville, where it was intended to attack Marshall, is on Painter
Creek, near the west fork of the Big Sandy, about thirty miles above
Louisa. The first thing to be done, therefore, was to cross that
intervening space, very quickly, and attack the enemy without delay. A
slow campaign would result in disaster. While this advance was being
made, it would also be necessary to see to the matter of reinforcements;
for Marshall had thirty-five hundred, Garfield not half as many. The
only possible chance would be to communicate an order to the Fortieth
Ohio, under Colonel Cranor, at Paris, one hundred miles away; that
hundred miles was accessible to Marshall, and full of rebel
sympathizers. The man who carried a dispatch to Cranor from Garfield,
would carry his life in his hand, with a liberal chance of losing it. To
find such an one, both able and willing for the task, would be like
stumbling over a diamond in an Illinois corn-field. In his perplexity,
Garfield went to Colonel Moore, of the Fourteenth Kentucky, and said to
him: “I must communicate with Cranor; some of your men know this section
of country well; have you a man we can fully trust for such a duty?” The
Colonel knew such a man, and promised to send him to head-quarters.
Directly the man appeared. He was a native of that district, coming from
the head of the Baine, a creek near Louisa, and his name was John
Jordan. What kind of a man he was has been well told by a writer in the
_Atlantic Monthly_ for October, 1865:
“He was a tall, gaunt, sallow man of about thirty, with small gray
eyes, a fine falsetto voice, pitched in the minor key, and his
speech was the rude dialect of the mountains. His face had as many
expressions as could be found in a regiment, and he seemed a strange
combination of cunning, simplicity, undaunted courage, and
undoubting faith; yet, though he might pass for a simpleton, he had
a rude sort of wisdom, which, cultivated, might have given his name
to history.
“The young Colonel sounded him thoroughly, for the fate of the
little army might depend on his fidelity. The man’s soul was as
clear as crystal, and in ten minutes Garfield saw through it. His
history is stereotyped in that region. Born among the hills, where
the crops are stones, and sheep’s noses are sharpened before they
can nibble the thin grass between them, his life had been one of the
hardest toil and privation. He knew nothing but what Nature, the
Bible, the Course of Time, and two or three of Shakespeare’s plays
had taught him; but, somehow, in the mountain air he had grown up to
be a man—a man, as civilized nations account manhood.
“‘Why did you come into the war?’ at last asked the Colonel.
“‘To do my sheer fur the kentry, Gin’ral,’ answered the man. ‘And I
didn’t druv no barg’in wi’ th’ Lord. I guv him my life squar’ out;
and ef he’s a mind ter tack it on this tramp, why, it’s a his’n;
I’ve nothin’ ter say agin it.’
“‘You mean that you’ve come into the war not expecting to get out of
it?’
“‘That’s so, Gin’ral.’
“‘Will you die rather than let the dispatch be taken?’
“‘I will.’
“The Colonel recalled what had passed in his own mind when poring
over his mother’s Bible that night at his home in Ohio, and it
decided him. ‘Very well,’ he said; ‘I will trust you.’”
Armed with a carbine and a brace of revolvers, Jordan mounted the
swiftest horse in the regiment, and was off at midnight. The dispatch
was written on tissue paper, then folded closely into a round shape, and
coated with lead to resemble a bullet. The carrier rode till daylight,
then hitched his horse in the timber, and went to a house where he knew
he would be well received. The lord of that house was a soldier in
Marshall’s little army, who served the Union there better than he could
have done with a blue coat on. The lady of the house was loyal in a more
open manner. Of course, the rebels knew of this mission, as they had
spies in Garfield’s camp, and a squad of cavalry were on Jordan’s trail.
They came up with him at this house; hastily giving the precious bullet
to the woman, he made her swear to see that it reached its destination,
and then broke out toward the woods. Two horsemen were guarding the
door. To get the start of them, as the door opened, he brandished a red
garment before the horses, which scared them so that they were, for a
moment, unmanageable. In an instant he was over the fence. But the
riders were gaining. Flash, went the scout’s revolver, and the one man
was in eternity! Flash, again, and the other man’s horse fell! Before
the rest of the squad could reach the spot, Jordan was safely out of
their power. That night the woman who had sheltered him carried the
dispatch, and a good meal, to a thicket near by, whither she was guided
by the frequent hooting of an owl! And, after a ride of forty miles
more, with several narrow escapes, the Colonel of the Forty-second at
last read his orders from a crumpled piece of tissue paper. As for
Jordan, he was back in Garfield’s tent again two weeks later; but the
faithful animal that carried him had fallen, pierced by a rebel ball.
What, meanwhile, had been the progress of Garfield’s forces in their
attempt to reach Paintville? On the morning of December 23d, the first
day’s march began. The rains of the preceding days had been stopped by
extreme cold, and the hills were icy and slippery. The night before this
march very few of the men had slept; but, instead of that, had crouched
around camp-fires to keep from freezing. During the day they only
advanced ten miles. In half that distance, one crooked little creek,
which wound around in a labyrinth of coils, was crossed no less than
twenty-six times. This was slow progress, but the following days were
slower still. Provisions were scarce. Most of the wagon-train and
equipments had been loaded on boats to be taken up the river, and the
supplies that had started with them were far in the rear. To meet their
necessities, the men captured a farmer’s pigs and poultry without leave.
But Garfield was no plunderer; he was a true soldier; and, after
reprimanding the offenders, he repaid the farmer.
On the 27th, a squad of Marshall’s men were encountered, and two men
captured. The next day the compliment was returned, and three Union
soldiers became unwilling guests of the too hospitable South. Thus
slowly advancing, in spite of bad weather and bad roads, skirmishing
daily with the enemy, as the opposing forces neared each other, on the
6th day of January, 1862, the Eighteenth Brigade, except that portion
which was coming from Paris, was encamped within seven miles of
Paintville; and at last it had become possible to bring things to a
crisis, and determine, by the solemn wager of battle, who was entitled
to this portion of Kentucky.
Up to this time, Garfield had been moving almost in the dark. He did not
know what had become of his message to Cranor; he did not know the exact
position of his enemy; he did not know the number of the enemy. Now we
shall see good fortune and good management remedy each of these
weaknesses in a single day.
Harry Brown had been a canal hand with Garfield in 1847, and the latter,
with his genial ways, had made Brown his friend. At this time, Brown was
a kind of camp-follower, and not very well trusted by the officers. But
he knew the region well where these operations were going on, and
hearing that his old comrade was commander, he hastened to offer his
services as a scout. Garfield accepted, told him what he wanted, and
through him learned very accurately the situation of the Confederate
forces. On the night of the sixth, Jordan also appeared on the scene,
with the information that Cranor was only two days’ march behind. To
crown all, a dispatch came from Buell, on the morning of the seventh,
with a letter which had been intercepted. This letter was from Humphrey
Marshall to his wife, and revealed the fact that his force was less than
the country people, with their rebel sympathies, had represented. It was
determined to advance that day and attack the enemy at Paintville, where
about one-third of them were posted.
[Illustration: OPERATIONS IN WEST VIRGINIA.]
This attack on Paintville was a hazardous enterprise. In main strength,
Marshall was so superior that Garfield’s only hope was in devising some
plan to outwit him. From the point of starting, there were three
accessible paths; one on the west, striking Painter Creek opposite the
mouth of Jenny Creek, three miles to the right, from the place to be
attacked; one on the east, approaching that point from the left; and a
third road, the most difficult of the three, straight across. Rebel
pickets were thrown out on each road. Marshall was prepared to be
attacked on one road, but never dreamed of a simultaneous approach of
the enemy on all at once; and it was this misapprehension which defeated
him. First, a small detachment of infantry, supported by cavalry,
attacked on the west, whereupon almost the entire rebel force was sent
out to meet them. Shortly, a similar advance was made on the east, and
the enemy retraced their steps for a defense in that direction. While
they were thus held, the remaining Union force drove in the pickets of
the central path, who, finding the village empty, rushed on three miles
further, to a partially fortified place where Marshall himself was
waiting. Thinking that Paintville was lost, he hastily ordered all his
forces to retreat, which they did, as far as this fortified camp.
Garfield entered Paintville at the same time, having with him the
Forty-second Ohio, Fourteenth Kentucky, and four hundred Virginia
cavalry.
A portion of the cavalry were chasing the rebel horse, whom they
followed five miles, killing three and wounding several. The Union force
lost two killed and one wounded. The next day, the eighth of January, a
few hours rest was taken, while preparations were being made for another
fight. But towards evening it was determined to advance. Painter Creek
was too high to ford. But there was a saw-mill near by, and in an hour a
raft was made upon which to cross. Marshall, being posted concerning
this movement, was deliberating what to do, when a spy came in with the
information that Colonel Cranor was approaching, with 3,300 men. Alarmed
at such an overpowering enemy, he burnt his stores and fled
precipitately toward Petersburg. At nine o’clock that night, the
Eighteenth Brigade was snugly settled in the late Confederate camp. Here
it appeared that every thing had been left suddenly, and in confusion;
meat was left cooking before the fire, and all preparations for the
evening meal abandoned. This place was at the top of a hill, three
hundred feet high, covering about two acres, and would soon have been a
strong fortification.
On the ninth, Colonel Cranor did at last arrive, with his regiment,
eight hundred strong, completely worn out with the long march. But
Colonel Garfield felt that the present advantage must be pursued, or no
permanent gain could result. So he raised 1,100 men, who stepped from
the ranks as volunteers, and immediately started on the trail of the
enemy.
The action which followed is known as the battle of Middle Creek.
Eighteen miles further up the West Fork, along which they marched, two
parallel creeks flow in between the hills; the northernmost one is
Abbott’s Creek, the next Middle Creek. It was evident that Marshall
would place himself behind this double barrier and make a stand there,
if he should endeavor to turn the tide of defeat at all. Toward this
point the weary troops, therefore, turned their steps. The way was so
rough and the rains so heavy that they did not near the place until late
in the day. But about nine o’clock in the evening they climbed to the
top of a hill, whose further slope led down into the valley of Abbott’s
Creek. On this height the enemy’s pickets were encountered and driven
in. Further investigation led to the conclusion that the enemy was near,
in full force. That night the men slept on their arms in this exposed
position; the rain had turned to sleet, and any degree of comfort was a
thing they ceased to look for. Perceiving the necessity for
reinforcements, Colonel Garfield sent word to Colonel Cranor to send
forward all available men. Meanwhile, efforts were made to learn
Marshall’s position, and arrange for battle. Our old friend John Jordan
visited the hostile camp in the mealy clothes of a rebel miller, who had
been captured, and returned with some very valuable information. Morning
dawned, and the little Federal army proceeded cautiously down into the
valley, then over the hills again, until, a mile beyond, they were ready
to descend into the valley of Middle Creek, and charge against the enemy
on the opposite heights. Garfield’s plan was to avoid a general
engagement, until about the time for his reinforcements to appear,
because otherwise it was plainly suicidal to attack such a large force.
On this plan skirmishing continued from eight till one o’clock, the only
result being a better knowledge of the situation. Now it was high time
to begin in earnest. In the center of the strip of meadow-land, which
stretched between Middle Creek and the opposite hills, was a high point
of ground, crowned by a little log church and a small graveyard. The
first movement would be to occupy that place, in order to have a base of
operations on that side. The rebel cavalry and artillery were each in
position to control the church. But the guns were badly trained, and
missed their mark; the cavalry made some show, but, for some reason,
retired without much fighting.
Keeping a reserve here, a portion of the brave eleven hundred were now
to strike a decisive blow; but the enemy’s infantry was hidden, and they
did not know just how to proceed. On the south side of Middle Creek, to
the right of the place where the artillery was stationed, rose a high
hill. Around it wound the creek, and following the creek ran a narrow,
rocky road. The entire force of Marshall, except his reserve, was in
fact hidden in the fastnesses of that irregular, forest-covered hill,
and so placed as to command this road, by which it was expected that the
Federal troops would approach. But “the best laid plans” sometimes go
wrong. The Yankee was not to be entrapped. Suspecting some such
situation, Garfield sent his escort of twelve men down the road; around
the hill they clattered at a gallop, in full view of the enemy. The ruse
worked well, and the sudden fire of several thousand muskets revealed
the coveted secret. The riders returned safely, and then the battle
began. Four hundred men of the Fortieth and Forty-second Ohio, under
Major Pardee, quickly advanced up the hill in front, while two hundred
of the Fourteenth Kentucky, under Lieutenant-Colonel Monroe, went down
the road some distance and endeavored, by a flank movement, to so engage
a portion of the rebels that not all of them could be turned against
Pardee. The latter now charged up the hill under a heavy fire. They were
inferior in numbers, but determined to reach the summit some way. So
they broke ranks at the cry of “Every man to a tree,” and fought after
the Indian fashion. After all, the Union boys were not altogether at a
disadvantage. Their opponents were raw troops, and after the manner of
inexperienced men they aimed too high, while the Federals did much
better execution. But Marshall meant business at this important hour,
and sent his reserve to swell the number. A charge was made down the
hill. Now the boys in blue retreat; but not far. Garfield goes in with
_his_ reserves. Captain Williams calls, “To the trees again, my boys;”
they rally; the fight grows hotter and whistling death is in the air.
The critical moment is here, and those poor fellows down below are about
to be crushed. The exultant Confederates rush down in swelling volume,
the wolf is about to seize his prey.
But now a faint, though cheerful shout rings across the narrow valley;
then louder it grows while the echoes clatter back from hillside to
hillside like the tumult of ten thousand voices. The Confederates above
peer out through the branches and view the opposite road. Every face,
just flushed with hopes of victory, now turns pale at the sight. The
force from Paintville has come at last. The hard-pressed men of Pardee
can see nothing, but they catch new inspiration from the sound. They
answer back; while to the thousand voices and the ten thousand echoes on
the Union side, one word of reply is given from the rebel commander’s
mouth. And the word he utters is—RETREAT.
This ended the struggle. Lieutenant-Colonel Sheldon, with his seven
hundred men, after a hard day’s march of twenty miles, came down on the
scene of action at a run, and found that their approach had saved the
day. Garfield and his men were already occupying the hill-top, and a
detachment was following the fleeing troops of the enemy. The policy
adopted, however, was to not follow the enemy very far, as it was not
known in how bad a condition they were. The Union loss in this battle
was two killed and twenty-five wounded. The rebels left twenty-seven
dead on the field, and had carried off about thirty-five more.
The captures were, twenty-five men, ten horses, and a quantity of army
supplies. Toward midnight a bright light appeared in the sky in the
direction Marshall had taken. It was the light of his blazing wagons and
camp equipments, burned by his men to keep them from doing any body else
any good, while they made their enforced visit to Virginia by way of
Pound Gap. The field was won; and Buell’s commission to Garfield had
been faithfully performed.
[Illustration: GARFIELD DRIVES HUMPHREY MARSHALL OUT OF KENTUCKY.]
On the following day Colonel Garfield addressed his victorious men as
follows:
“_Soldiers of the Eighteenth Brigade_: I am proud of you all! In
four weeks you have marched, some eighty and some a hundred miles,
over almost impassable roads. One night in four you have slept,
often in the storm, with only a wintry sky above your heads. You
have marched in the face of a foe of more than double your
number—led on by chiefs who have won a national renown under the Old
Flag—intrenched in hills of his own choosing, and strengthened by
all the appliances of military art. With no experience but the
consciousness of your own manhood, you have driven him from his
strongholds, pursued his inglorious flight, and compelled him to
meet you in battle. When forced to fight, he sought the shelter of
rocks and hills. You drove him from his position, leaving scores of
his bloody dead unburied. His artillery thundered against you, but
you compelled him to flee by the light of his burning stores, and to
leave even the banner of his rebellion behind him. I greet you as
brave men. Our common country will not forget you. She will not
forget the sacred dead who fell beside you, nor those of your
comrades who won scars of honor on the field.
“I have recalled you from the pursuit that you may regain vigor for
still greater exertions. Let no one tarnish his well-earned honor by
any act unworthy an American soldier. Remember your duties as
American citizens, and sacredly respect the rights and property of
those with whom you may come in contact. Let it not be said that
good men dread the approach of an American army.
“Officers and soldiers, your duty has been nobly done. For this I
thank you.”
On this day, January 11th, the troops took possession of Prestonburg,
and the remaining duties of the campaign were only the working out in
detail of results already secured. As to the merits of the decisive
little fight at Middle Creek, Garfield said at a later time: “It was a
very rash and imprudent affair on my part. If I had been an officer of
more experience, I probably should not have made the attack. As it was,
having gone into the army with the notion that fighting was our
business, I didn’t know any better.” And Judge Clark, of the
Forty-second Ohio, adds: “And during it all, Garfield was the soldiers’
friend. Such was his affection for the men that he would divide his last
rations with them, and nobody ever found any thing better at
head-quarters than the rest got.”
Indeed, there was one occasion, I believe just after this engagement,
when the Eighteenth Brigade owed to its brave commander its possession
of any thing at all to eat. The roads had become impassable, rations
were growing scarce, and the Big Sandy, on which they relied, was so
high that nothing could be brought up to them; at least the boatmen
thought so. But our old acquaintance, the canal boy, still survived, in
the shape of a gallant colonel, and with his admirer and former canal
companion, Brown, Garfield boldly started down the raging stream in a
skiff. Arriving at Catlettsburg, he found a small steamer, the _Sandy
Valley_, which he loaded with provisions, and ordered captain and crew
to get up steam and take him back. They all refused, on the ground that
such an attempt would end in failure, and probably in loss of life. But
they did not know their man. His orders were repeated, and he went to
the wheel himself. It was a wild torrent to run against. The river was
far out of its natural limits, rushing around the foot of a chain of
hills at sharp curves. In some places it was over fifty feet deep, and
where the opposite banks rose close together the half-undermined trees
would lean inward, their interlocking branches making the passage
beneath both difficult and dangerous. But the undaunted leader pressed
on, himself at the wheel forty hours out of the forty-eight. Brown stood
steadfastly at the bow, carrying a forked pole, with which to ward off
the big logs and trees which constantly threatened to strike the boat
and stave in the bottom. The most exciting incident of all occurred the
second night. At a sharp turn the narrow and impetuous flood whirled
round and round, a boiling whirlpool; and in spite of great care the
boat turned sidewise, and stuck fast in the muddy bank. Repeated efforts
to pry the boat off were unavailing, and at last a new plan was
suggested. Colonel Garfield ordered the men to lower a small boat, carry
a line across, and pull the little steamer out of difficulty. They said
no living mortal could attempt that feat and not die. This was just what
they had said about starting the steamer from Catlettsburg, and the
answer was similar. Our hero leaped into the skiff himself, the faithful
Brown following.
[Illustration: GARFIELD’S EXPLOIT ON THE BIG SANDY.]
Sturdily and steadily they pulled away, and in half an hour were on
_terra firma_ once more. Line in hand, they walked up to a place
opposite the _Sandy Valley_, fixed the rope to a rail, and standing at
the other end with an intervening tree to give leverage, soon had the
satisfaction of seeing, or rather in the darkness feeling, the steamer
swing out again into the current. After this impossibility had been
turned into history, there was no more doubting from the incredulous
crew. They concluded that this man could do any thing, and henceforth
helped him willingly. At the end of three days, amid prolonged and
enthusiastic cheering from the half-starved waiting brigade, the _Sandy
Valley_ arrived at her destination, and James A. Garfield had finished
one more of his great life’s thousand deeds of heroism.
Immediately after the battle of Middle Creek great consternation filled
the minds of that ignorant population which filled the valley of the Big
Sandy. The flying rebels, the dead and the debris of a fugitive army,
and wild stories of savage barbarities practiced by an inhuman Yankee
soldiery, had been more than enough for their fortitude. They fled like
frightened deer at the blast of a hunter’s horn, and sought safety in
mountain fastnesses. It was therefore necessary by some means to gain
their confidence, and for this purpose the following proclamation was
issued from the Federal head-quarters:
“HEAD-QUARTERS EIGHTEENTH BRIGADE, }
“PAINTVILLE, KY., January 16, 1862. }
“_Citizens of the Sandy Valley_: I have come among you to restore
the honor of the Union, and to bring back the Old Banner which you
all once loved, but which, by the machinations of evil men, and by
mutual misunderstandings, has been dishonored among you. To those
who are in arms against the Federal Government I offer only the
alternative of battle or unconditional surrender; but to those who
have taken no part in this war, who are in no way aiding or abetting
the enemies of the Union, even to those who hold sentiments adverse
to the Union, but yet give no aid and comfort to its enemies, I
offer the full protection of the Government, both in their persons
and property.
“Let those who have been seduced away from the love of their
country, to follow after and aid the destroyers of our peace, lay
down their arms, return to their homes, bear true allegiance to the
Federal Government, and they also shall enjoy like protection. The
army of the Union wages no war of plunder, but comes to bring back
the prosperity of peace. Let all peace-loving citizens who have fled
from their homes return, and resume again the pursuits of peace and
industry. If citizens have suffered from any outrages by the
soldiers under my command, I invite them to make known their
complaints to me, and their wrongs shall be redressed, and the
offenders punished. I expect the friends of the Union in this valley
to banish from among them all private feuds, and to let a
liberal-minded love of country direct their conduct toward those who
have been so sadly estranged and misguided. I hope that these days
of turbulence may soon end, and the better days of the Republic may
soon return.
“[Signed],
“JAMES A. GARFIELD,
“Colonel Commanding Brigade.”
After the true character of the invaders became known, the natives were
as familiar as they had been shy, and multitudes of them came into camp.
From their reports, and from the industry of the small parties of
cavalry which scoured the country in all directions, it was established
beyond doubt that the rebel army had no more foot-hold in the State;
although sundry small parties still remained, endeavoring to secure
recruits for the forces in Virginia, and destroying many things which
could be of use to the Union soldiers. In order to be nearer the scene
of these petty operations, Colonel Garfield moved his head-quarters to
Piketon, thirty miles further up the river. From this point he
effectually stopped all further depredations, except in one locality.
And it was in removing this exception to their general supremacy that
the Eighteenth Brigade performed its last notable exploit in Eastern
Kentucky.
The principal pathway between Virginia and South-Eastern Kentucky is by
means of Pound Gap. This is a rugged pass in the Cumberland Mountains,
through which Marshall had in the fall of 1861 made his loudly-heralded
advance, and, later, his inglorious retreat. Here one Major Thomas had
made a stand, with about six hundred men. Log huts were built by them
for shelter, the narrow entrance to their camp was well fortified, and
for snug winter-quarters they could want nothing better. When in need of
provisions a small party would sally forth, dash down into the valleys,
and return well laden with plunder. Garfield soon determined to break up
this mountain nest; and early in March was incited to immediate action
by a report that Humphrey Marshall was making that place the starting
point for a new expedition. He had issued orders for all available
forces to be gathered there on the 15th of March, preparatory to the
intended re-invasion of Kentucky. To frustrate this scheme, Garfield
started for Pound Gap with six hundred infantry and a hundred cavalry.
It was a march of forty-five miles from Piketon in a south-westerly
direction. Deep snows covered the ground, icy hillsides were hard to
climb, and progress was difficult. On the evening of the second day,
however, they reached the foot of the ascent which led up to the object
for which they had come. Here they stopped until morning, meanwhile
endeavoring to discover the number and condition of the mountain paths.
The information obtained was meager, but sufficient to help form a plan
of attack. One main path led directly up to the Gap. When morning came,
Garfield sent his cavalry straight up in this direction, to occupy the
enemy’s attention, while with the infantry he was climbing the mountains
and endeavoring to surprise them in the rear. After a long and perilous
scramble, they reached a point within a quarter of a mile of the rebel
camp. They were first apprised of their nearness to it by the sight of a
picket, who fired on them and hastened to give the alarm. But the eager
troops were close after him, and the panic-stricken marauders vanished
hastily without a struggle, and were chased by the Union cavalry far
into Virginia.
After resting a day and night in these luxurious quarters, the huts were
burned, the fortifications destroyed, and in less than five days from
the start, the successful Colonel was back again in Piketon.
This was the end of Garfield’s campaign in East Kentucky. There was no
more fighting to be done; and after a few days he was called into
another field of action.
When Colonel Garfield’s official report of the battle of Middle Creek
reached Louisville, General Buell replied by the following, which tells
the story of his delight at the result:
“HEAD-QUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE OHIO,
LOUISVILLE, KY., January 20th, 1862.
“_General Orders, No. 40._
“The General Commanding takes occasion to thank Colonel Garfield and
his troops for their successful campaign against the rebel force
under General Marshall, on the Big Sandy, and their gallant conduct
in battle. They have overcome formidable difficulties in the
character of the country, the condition of the roads, and the
inclemency of the season; and, without artillery, have in several
engagements, terminating with the battle on Middle Creek on the 10th
inst., driven the enemy from his intrenched positions, and forced
him back into the mountains with the loss of a large amount of
baggage and stores, and many of his men killed or captured.
“These services have called into action the highest qualities of a
soldier—fortitude, perseverance, courage.
“By command of General Buell.
“JAMES B. FRY,
“A. A. G., Chief of Staff.”
But this was not the only reward. The news went on to Washington, and in
a few days Garfield received his commission as a Brigadier-General,
dated back to January 10th.
The defeat of Marshall was conspicuous on account of its place and time.
Since the defeat of the Union army at Bull Bun, in July of the preceding
year, no important victory had been gained. The confidence of the North
in its military leaders had began to waver. General McClellan had turned
himself and his army into a gigantic stumbling block, and patriots were
getting discouraged. No wonder that Lincoln and Buell were grateful for
a man who was willing to wade through difficulties, and disturb the
stagnant pool of listless war!
On the night of January 10, an interview occurred between the President
and several persons, one of whom, General McDowell, has preserved the
knowledge of what occurred in a memorandum made at the time. He says:
“The President was greatly disturbed at the state of affairs. Spoke
of the exhausted condition of the treasury; of the loss of public
credit; of the Jacobinism of Congress; of the delicate condition of
our foreign relations; of the bad news he had received from the
West, particularly as contained in a letter from General Halleck on
the state of affairs in Missouri; of the want of coöperation between
Generals Halleck and Buell; but, more than all, the sickness of
General McClellan. The President said he was in great distress; and,
as he had been to General McClellan’s house, and the General did not
ask to see him, and as he must talk to somebody, he had sent for
General Franklin and myself to obtain our opinion as to the
possibility of soon commencing active operations with the Army of
the Potomac. To use his own expression, if something was not soon
done, the bottom would be out of the whole affair; and if General
McClellan did not want to use the army, he would like to _borrow
it_, provided he could see how it could be made to do something.”
This shows how necessary some decisive action now was to the safety of
the Union. And to Garfield belonged the honor of ushering in an era of
glorious successes.
On the 19th of January, General Thomas defeated Zollicoffer’s army,
killed its general, and chased the remnants into Tennessee. This gave us
Kentucky, and completed the break in the extreme right wing of
Johnston’s Confederate army. Just after this came Grant’s successful
move on the left wing of that army. Proceeding rapidly up the Tennessee,
he took Fort Henry, then crossed over to the Cumberland, and, on
February 16th, captured Fort Donelson. Other actions followed in quick
succession. The South, fallen into false security during our long
inactivity, was completely astonished. The North, thoroughly aroused,
believed in itself again; and, with exultant tread, our armies began to
march rapidly into the enemy’s country.
Colonel Garfield’s career in the Sandy Valley was not the cause of all
these good things. The first faint light which warns a watcher of the
dawn of day, is not the cause of day. But that early light is looked for
none the less eagerly. Middle Creek was greeted by a Nation with just
such sentiments.
Historians of the Civil War will not waste much time in considering this
Kentucky campaign. Its range was too small; the student’s attention is
naturally drawn to the more striking fortunes of the greater armies of
the Republic. But, as we have seen, the intrinsic merits of Colonel
Garfield’s work here were such as forced it upon the attention of his
official superiors. As we have also seen, this campaign occurred at a
time when small advantages could be appreciated, because no great ones
were being secured. And the hand of Time, which obliterates campaigns,
and effaces kingdoms, and sinks continents out of sight, will never
quite neglect to keep a torch lighted here, until the starry light of
all our triumphs shall go out in the darkness together.
CHAPTER V.
HERO AND GENERAL.
Hark to that roar whose swift and deafening peals
In countless echoes through the mountains ring,
Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne!
Now swells the intermingling din—the jar,
Frequent and frightful, of the bursting bomb,
The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the shout,
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men!—_Shelley._
On the 23d of March, 1862, orders reached General Garfield, in Eastern
Kentucky, to report at once, with his command, to General Buell at
Louisville. It had been determined to concentrate the Army of the Ohio
under Buell, move southward to Savannah, Tennessee, there effect a
junction with the Army of the Tennessee, which, under General Grant, was
on its way up the Tennessee River, after the victories at Forts Donelson
and Henry, and, with the united force, move forward to Corinth,
Mississippi. Garfield ceased, from that time, to be a commander of an
independent force, and became merged, with others of his rank, in the
great Army of the Ohio. He proceeded to Louisville with all possible
dispatch. But Buell was already far on the road to Savannah. Finding
orders, he at once hurried southward, and overtook Buell at Columbia,
where the army had to construct a bridge over Duck River. The rebels had
burned the old bridge; and, at that stage of the war, pontoon bridges
were not to be had. Garfield was at once assigned to the command of the
Twentieth Brigade, of General Thomas J. Wood’s division. During this
delay at Duck River, General Nelson, hearing that Grant had already
reached Savannah, asked permission of Buell to let his division ford or
swim the river and hurry on to Grant. As there was no known reason for
hurrying to Grant, who sent word that he was in no danger of attack, the
permission was coldly given. But it was this impatience of Nelson which
saved Grant’s army at Shiloh. With Nelson’s division a day in advance,
the remainder of the army followed at intervals—with Crittenden’s
division second, McCook’s third, then Wood’s—to which Garfield
belonged—and last Thomas’s. It had been intended to halt at Waynesboro
for a day’s rest, but the impetuous Nelson was beyond the town before he
had heard of it, and his speed had communicated itself to the succeeding
divisions. In this way Nelson reached Savannah on the 5th of April.
Grant’s army was at Pittsburg Landing, ten miles up the river. The world
knows of the unexpected and terrific battle, beginning on the 6th and
lasting two days. Nelson reached Grant at 5 P. M. of the first day’s
fight, Crittenden during the night, and McCook about 9 A. M. of the next
day. These reinforcements alone saved Grant’s army from destruction.
Wood, impeded by the baggage trains abandoned in the road by the
preceding divisions, who were straining every nerve to reach Grant in
time, only reached the battle-field as the fighting closed. Garfield’s
brigade and some other troops were sent in pursuit of the flying enemy;
but their great fatigue from continuous marching, and the darkness of
the night, soon recalled the pursuit. On the following morning,
Garfield’s brigade took part in a severe fight with the enemy’s cavalry,
but it was only a demonstration to cover retreat.
Halleck, Commander-in-Chief, reached Pittsburg Landing April 11th, and
began a remarkably slow advance upon Corinth, the objective point of the
campaign. The army was required to construct parallels of fortification
to cover each day’s advance; and, in this way, it took six weeks to
march the thirty miles which lay between the army and Corinth. While
lying before Corinth, as throughout his career in the army, Garfield
gratified, as much as possible, his love of literature. He had with him
several small volumes of the classics, which he read every day. He
rather preferred Horace, as being “the most philosophic of the pagans.”
During this time an incident occurred which showed well the character of
Garfield. One day a Southern ruffian, a human blood-hound, came riding
into camp, demanding that the soldiers hunt and deliver to him a
wretched fugitive slave who had preceded him. The poor negro, who was
badly wounded from the blows of the bully’s whip, had sought the
blue-coats for protection, and had succeeded in concealing himself from
his relentless pursuer among Garfield’s command. The swearing braggart,
being misled and foiled by the soldiers, who not only sympathized with
the slave, but enjoyed the swaggerer’s wrath, at length demanded to be
shown to the head-quarters of the division commander. The latter, after
hearing the complaint, wrote an order to Garfield to require his men to
hunt out and surrender the trembling vagabond. Garfield took the order
from the aid, read it, quietly refolded it, and indorsed on it the
following reply:
“I respectfully, but positively, decline to allow my command to
search for, or deliver up, any fugitive slaves. I conceive that they
are here for quite another purpose. The command is open, and no
obstacle will be placed in the way of the search.”
It was a courageous act, but he had never known fear. A court-martial,
with a swift sentence of death, was the remedy for refusals to obey
orders. When told of his danger, he said:
“The matter may as well be tested first as last. Right is right, and
I do not propose to mince matters at all. My soldiers are here for
far other purposes than hunting and returning fugitive slaves. My
people on the Western Reserve of Ohio did not send my boys and
myself down here to do that kind of business, and they will back me
up in my action.”
But no court-martial was held. A short time afterwards the War
Department issued a general order embodying the principle of Garfield’s
refusal; and from that time it was the rule in all the armies of the
Republic that no soldier should hound a human being back to fetters.
After the six weeks’ preparation for the siege of Corinth, Halleck found
that only the hull of the nut was left for him. The wily enemy had
evacuated the place without a struggle. The vast Union army, which had
been massed for this campaign, having no foe to oppose it, was resolved
into its original elements. The Army of the Ohio, under Buell, was
ordered to East Tennessee, preparatory to an attack on Chattanooga. The
advance to the east, was along the line of the Memphis and Chattanooga
Railroad. This road had to be almost entirely rebuilt, as the supplies
for the army were to come along its line. This work of rebuilding was
assigned to Wood’s division, and Garfield’s brigade laid down the musket
to handle the spade and hammer. Here, Garfield’s boyhood experience with
tools, was of incalculable value. If a culvert was to be built, his head
planned a swift, but substantial way, to build it. If a bridge had been
burned, his eye saw quickly how to shape the spans, and secure the
braces. His mind was of the rare sort which combines speculative with
practical powers. His spirit electrified his men, as it had the school
at Hiram; and, in the drudgery of the work, from which the inspiration
of battle was wholly wanting, it was he who cheered and encouraged their
unwonted toil. The work, for the time being, having been finished,
Garfield’s head-quarters were established at Huntsville, Alabama, the
most beautiful town in America. But the exposures of army life, the
tremendous exertions put forth in rebuilding the railroad, and the
fierce rays of the summer sun, in the unaccustomed climate, laid hold on
his constitution, in which the old boyhood tendency to ague was all the
time dormant; and in the latter part of July, 1862, he was attacked by
malarial fever. In the rough surroundings of the camp, as he tossed on
his feverish couch, his thoughts turned longingly to the young wife and
child in that humble northern home. Procuring sick-leave, he started
north about the first of August.
The War Department had an eye upon Garfield, and determined to give his
abilities free scope. Five divisions of Buell’s army we have followed to
Corinth, and thence, along the tedious march to Chattanooga. A sixth
division had been sent on a separate expedition to Northern Mississippi,
and a seventh, under General Geo. W. Morgan, to occupy East Tennessee,
and, in particular, Cumberland Gap. In the early part of August, orders
reached Garfield to proceed to Cumberland Gap and take command of the
seventh division of the Army of the Ohio, relieving General Morgan. But
when the order reached Garfield, he was already on his way north, fast
held by the malignant clutch of low fever.
While Garfield had been with the army before Corinth, and on the line of
march toward Chattanooga, the general discipline was very loose. The
army camp is the most demoralizing place in the world. The men lose all
self-restraint, and lapse into ferocious and barbarous manners. The
check for this is discipline; but the volunteer troops, in the early
stages of the war, utterly scouted the idea of discipline. To render it
effective, the Army of the Ohio had to be reduced to a basis of strict
military order. Courts-martial were frequent. Garfield’s judicial mind
and sound judgment, combined with the knowledge of discipline which his
experience as a teacher had given him, caused him to be sought for
eagerly, to conduct these courts-martial. He was idolized by his own
men, but his ability in the drum-head courts spread his fame throughout
the division. The trial of Colonel Turchin, for conduct unbecoming an
officer, was the one which attracted most attention.
The report of the trial to the War Department, prepared by Garfield, had
served to still further heighten the opinion of his abilities
entertained there. Garfield had been at home, on his sick leave, about a
month, and had begun to rally from the fever, when he received orders to
report at Washington City as soon as his health would permit. Shortly
after this he again bade farewell to his girlish wife, and started to
the Capital. The service for which he was required there, was none other
than to sit on the memorable court-martial of Fitz-John Porter, the most
important military trial of the war. The charges against Porter are well
known. He was accused of having disobeyed five distinct orders to bring
his command to the front in time to take part in the second battle of
Bull Run. The trial lasted nearly two months. Garfield was required to
pass upon complicated questions, involving the rules of war, the
situation and surroundings of Porter’s command previous to the battle,
the duties of subordinate commanders, and the military possibilities of
the situation. In such a trial, the common sense of a strong, but
unprofessional mind, was more valuable than the technical training of a
soldier. The question at issue was, whether Porter had kept his own
opinions to himself and cheerfully obeyed his superior’s orders, even if
he did not approve them, or whether, through anger or jealousy, he had
sulked in the rear, so as to insure the defeat which he prophesied.
Garfield threw all his powers into the investigation, and at last was
convinced that Porter was guilty. Such was the verdict of the Court;
such, the opinion of Presidents Lincoln and Grant, and such will be the
opinion of posterity.
During this trial, Garfield became a warm friend of Major-General
Hunter, the presiding officer of the court, and in command of our forces
in South Carolina. After the adjournment, Hunter made an application to
Secretary Stanton to have Garfield assigned to the Army of South
Carolina. The appointment was made. It was gratifying to Garfield,
because Hunter was one of the strong antislavery generals, whom, at that
time, were few enough. Garfield felt that the war, though being fought
on the technical question of a State’s right to secede, was really a war
to destroy the hideous and bloody institution of slavery, and he wished
to see it carried on with that avowed purpose. As he afterwards
expressed it: “In the very crisis of our fate, God brought us face to
face with the alarming truth, that we must lose our own freedom or grant
it to the slave.”
In the same address from which the above is taken, which was delivered
before the war had actually closed, he declared that slavery was dead,
and the war had killed it:
“We shall never know why slavery dies so hard in this Republic and
in this hall till we know why sin has such longevity and Satan is
immortal. With marvelous tenacity of existence, it has outlived the
expectations of its friends and the hopes of its enemies. It has
been declared here and elsewhere to be in all the several stages of
mortality, wounded, moribund, dead. The question has been raised,
whether it was indeed dead, or only in a troubled sleep. I know of
no better illustration of its condition than is found in Sallust’s
admirable history of the great conspirator Catiline, who, when his
final battle was fought and lost, his army broken and scattered, was
found far in advance of his own troops, lying among the dead enemies
of Rome, yet breathing a little, but exhibiting in his countenance
all that ferocity of spirit which had characterized his life. So,
sir, this body of slavery lies before us among the dead enemies of
the Republic, mortally wounded, impotent in its fiendish wickedness,
but with its old ferocity of look, bearing the unmistakable marks of
its infernal origin.”—_House of Representatives, January 13, 1865._
But in war it is always the unexpected which happens. Pending Garfield’s
departure to Hunter’s command, his old army, then merged with the Army
of the Cumberland, under the command of General Rosecrans, who relieved
Buell, had, on the last day of the year of 1862, plunged into the battle
of Stone River. During the day a cannon-ball took off the head of the
beloved Garesché, chief of General Rosecrans’s staff. The place was
important, and hard to fill. It required a man of high military ability
to act as chief confidential adviser of the commanding general, both as
to the general plan of a campaign, and the imperious exigencies of
battle. Rosecrans had relied much on Garesché, and, just when so much
was expected of the Army of the Cumberland, the War Department feared
the testy General might become unmanageable, and, though well versed in
the practice of warfare, give way just at the crisis. The chief of staff
also had to be a man of pleasant social qualities to fit him for the
intimate relation.
Much as the War Department at Washington thought of Rosecrans at this
time, his violent temper and invincible obstinacy rendered it imperative
that some one should be with him who would prevent an absolute rupture
upon trifling grounds. But in addition to these things, the chief of
staff had to be a man of faultless generosity and unselfishness; he had
to be a man who would exert his own genius for another’s glory; he had
to be willing to see the plans of brilliant campaigns, which were the
product of his own mind, taken up and used by another; he had to be
willing to see reports of victories, which were the results of his own
military skill, sent to Washington over the name of the commanding
general, in which his own name was never mentioned. He was to do the
work and get no glory for it. All this he had to do cheerfully, and with
a heart loyal to his superior. There must be no division of counsel, no
lukewarm support, no heart-burnings at head-quarters. To the army and
the world there was but one man—the general. In reality there were two
men—the general and his chief of staff.
A prime minister sometimes succeeds in erecting for himself a fame
separate, and not merged in the splendor of his sovereign. Wolsey and
Richelieu and Talleyrand all did so. But the chief of staff was to know
no fame, no name for himself. His light was merged and lost in the
corruscations of the man above him. To find a man who united the highest
military ability with a genial nature, and who was willing to go utterly
without glory himself, was a difficult task. In a moment Stanton fixed
his eye on Garfield. Without warning, the commission to South Carolina
was revoked. Garfield was ordered to report at once to General
Rosecrans, whose head-quarters were at Murfreesboro, Tennessee, as a
result of the victory at Stone River.
Rosecrans has said that he was prejudiced against Garfield before his
arrival. He had heard that he was a Campbellite preacher, and fond of
theological debate, and a school teacher. These three things were enough
to spoil any man for Rosecrans. So he gave Garfield a cool enough
reception on the January morning when the latter presented himself at
head-quarters. Rosecrans, of course, had the option of taking the man
whom the Department had sent him, to be his confidential adviser or not.
Garfield’s appearance, to be sure, was not that of the pious fraud, or
the religious wrangler, or the precise pedagogue. In the book, _Down in
Tennessee_, we find the following superb description of his appearance
at this time, by one who saw him:
“In a corner by the window, seated at a small pine desk—a sort of
packing-box, perched on a long-legged stool, and divided into
pigeonholes, with a turn-down lid—was a tall, deep-chested,
sinewy-built man, with regular, massive features, a full, clear blue
eye, slightly tinged with gray, and a high, broad forehead, rising
into a ridge over the eyes, as if it had been thrown up by a plow.
There was something singularly engaging in his open, expressive
face, and his whole appearance indicated, as the phrase goes, ‘great
reserve power.’ His uniform, though cleanly brushed and sitting
easily upon him, had a sort of democratic air, and every thing about
him seemed to denote that he was ‘a man of the people,’ A rusty
slouched hat, large enough to have fitted Daniel Webster, lay on the
desk before him; but a glance at that was not needed to convince me
that his head held more than the common share of brains. Though he
is yet young—not thirty-three—the reader has heard of him, and if he
lives he will make his name long remembered in our history.”
After some conversation, Rosecrans concluded to go a little slow before
he rejected his services. He kept Garfield around head-quarters for a
day or two, quizzing him occasionally, and trying to make up his
estimate of the man. This sort of dancing attendance for a position he
did not want, would have galled a man of less ability and cheaper pride
than Garfield; but he had the patience of a planet. “Rosey,” as his
soldiers called him, soon found himself liking this great whole-souled
Ohioan, and, what was still more significant, he began to reverence the
genius of the man. He was unable to sink a plumb-line to the bottom of
Garfield’s mind. After each conversation, the depths of reserve power
seemed deeper than before. Rosecrans decided within himself to take him,
if possible. Only one thing stood in the way. If Garfield preferred to
go to the field, as he had himself prophesied from his name
(Guard-of-the-field) just before leaving college in 1856, Rosecrans was
not the man to chain him up at head-quarters. The choice was open to
Garfield to take a division or accept the position of chief of staff.
The latter had fifty times the responsibility, and no opportunity
whatever for fame. But without a moment’s struggle, Garfield quietly
said: “If you want my services as chief of staff, you can have them.”
The opinion in the army of the selection of General Garfield to succeed
the lamented Garesché, may be gathered from a volume called: “_Annals of
the Army of the Cumberland_,” published shortly after Garfield’s
appointment, and written by an officer in the army. “With the selection
of General Garfield, universal satisfaction is everywhere expressed.
Possessed of sound natural sense, an excellent judgment, a highly
cultivated intellect, and the deserved reputation of a successful
military leader, he is not only the Mentor of the staff, but his
opinions are sought and his counsels heeded by many who are older, and
not less distinguished than himself.”
An incident which occurred soon after his appointment, illustrates well
the aspect of his many-sided character, as presented to the common
soldier. Civilians have little idea of the gulf which military
discipline and etiquette places between the regular army officer and the
private soldier. Never was a Russian czar more of a despot and autocrat
than a West Point graduate. It seems to be an unavoidable outgrowth of
the profession of arms and military discipline that the officer should
be a sultan and the private a slave. One night, at Rosecrans’s
head-quarters in Murfreesboro, the officers’ council lasted till the
small hours of the morning. The outer hall, into which the room used by
the council opened, was occupied by a dozen orderly sergeants, who were
required to be there, ready for instant service all the time. As the
hours advanced, and there was no indication of an adjournment within,
this outer council got sleepy, and selecting one of its number to keep
watch, rolled itself up in various ragged army blankets and tumbled on
the floor. It was not long till the air trembled with heavy blasts from
the leaden trumpet of sleep. The unlucky fellow, who was left to guard,
was envious enough of his sleeping comrades. Tilting his seat back
against the wall, he sank into deep meditation upon the pleasures of
sleep. A few minutes later, sundry sudden jerks of his head, from side
to side, told that he, too, had found surcease from sorrow in sonorous
slumber. Just at this unlucky moment the door opened, and General
Garfield stepped out into the dimly-lighted passage, on his way to his
quarters. The sleeper’s legs were stretched out far in front of him with
lofty negligence; his arms hung by his side; his head, from which the
cap was gone, hung down in an alarming manner, as if he were making a
profound and attentive investigation of his boots. At this unlucky
moment, Garfield stumbled over the sergeant, and fell with his full
weight upon the frightened orderly. Military discipline required that
Garfield should fire a volley of oaths at the poor fellow, supplemented
by a heavy cannonade of kicks in the enemy’s rear, and the cutting down
of his supplies to bread and water for a week. Orderlies at
head-quarters knew this to be the plan of battle. General Garfield rose
to his feet as quickly as possible, gave the unfortunate and trembling
sergeant his assistance to rise, and after a kindly “excuse me,
Sergeant, I did not see you. I’m afraid you did not find me very light,”
passed on his way. It is easy to see why the common soldiers loved a
chief of staff in whom the gentleman was stronger than the officer.
During the tedious delay at Murfreesboro, the officers and men exercised
their ingenuity in inventing games to pass away the time. Phil.
Sheridan, out at his quarters in the forest surrounding the town, had
invented a game which he called Dutch ten-pins. Out in front of his
cabin, from the limb of a lofty tree, was suspended a rope. At the end
was attached a cannon-ball, small enough to be easily grasped by the
hand. Underneath the rope were set the ten-pins, with sufficient spaces
between them for the ball to pass without hitting. At first the
fun-loving little General only tried to throw the ball between the pins
without knocking any. But as his skill increased, he enlarged the
opportunity for it by making the game to consist not only in avoiding
the pins on the throw, but in making the ball hit them on the return.
Sheridan became very fond of the exercise, and in the three throws
allowed each player for a game, he could bring down twenty pins out of
the thirty possible. The reputation of the novel game and Sheridan’s
skill reached the commanding General’s head-quarters. One day Rosecrans,
Garfield, and a few brother officers, rode out to see “little Phil,” as
Sheridan was called, and take a hand in the game which had made for
itself such a name. The guests were cordially received, and after a good
many jokes and much bantering, Sheridan began the game. At the first
throw the returning ball brought down six pins; at the second, seven;
and the third the same number, making a score of twenty. Several tried
with more or less success, but not approaching the host’s score. When
Rosecrans took the ball, the merry company laughed at his nervous way of
handling it. After a lengthy aim, he threw and knocked down every pin by
the throw. Again he tried it, and again the ball failed even to get
through the wooden line. Sheridan nearly exploded with laughter. A third
time he met with the same ill-luck, failing to make a single tally. Then
General Garfield stepped forward, saying: “It’s nothing but mathematics.
All you need is an eye and a hand.” So saying, he carelessly threw the
ball, safely clearing the pins on the forward swing, and bringing down
seven on the return. Every body shouted “Luck! luck! Try that again.”
The chief of staff laughed heartily, and with still greater
indifference, tossed the ball, making eight; the third throw had a like
result, scoring Garfield twenty-three, and giving him the game. It was
no wonder that an officer said of him, “That man Garfield beats every
thing. No matter what he does, he is the superior of his competitors,
without half trying.”
On the 25th of April, 1863, Garfield issued a circular to the Army of
the Cumberland, upon the barbarities and unspeakable outrages of the
Southern prison-pens. The circular contained a verbatim statement by an
escaped prisoner of his treatment by the rebels. After a few burning
words, General Garfield concluded: “We can not believe that the justice
of God will allow such a people to prosper. Let every soldier know that
death on the battle-field is preferable to a surrender followed by such
outrages as their comrades have undergone.”
Every word of the circular was true. The time may come, when the South
will be forgiven for fighting for principles which it believed to be
right. The time may come when the sorrows of the North and South will
become alike the sorrows of each other, over the ruin wrought by human
folly. The right hand of fellowship will be extended. The Southern
people, as a people, may be relieved of the fearful charge of the
assassination of Abraham Lincoln, and posterity may come to look at it
as the infernal offspring of a few hell-born hearts. The day is upon us
when much of this is already true. But the men who directly or
indirectly caused or countenanced the starvation, the torture, the
poisoned and rotten food, the abandonment to loathsome disease, the
crowding of thousands of Union prisoners into stockades, opening only
heavenward, and all the other unparalleled atrocities of the Southern
prisons, atrocities that violated every rule of warfare; atrocities, to
find the equals of which the history of barbarous and savage nations,
without the light of religion, or the smile of civilization, will be
ransacked in vain, shall be handed down to an eternity of infamy. They
shall take rank with the Caligulas, the Neros, the inquisitors, all the
historic monsters in human form, whose names and natures are the common
dishonor and disgrace of mankind.
About this time there appeared in Rosecrans’s camp, with drooping
feathers, but brazen face, the thing which patriotism denominated “a
copperhead.” He was a northern citizen by the name of Vallandigham, from
Garfield’s own State, who had been ostracised by his neighbors for his
treason, and compelled to leave the community of patriots to seek
congenial company within the rebel lines. He was to have an escort to
the enemy’s camp. A squad waited outside to perform this touching task,
under the cover of a flag of truce. Vallandigham, who had the mind, if
not the heart, of a man, in forced jocularity dramatically spoke the
lines from _Romeo and Juliet_—
“Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.”
Quick as thought Garfield completed the quotation—
“I must begone and live, or stay and die.”
The joke was funny to every one but Vallandigham, but he was the only
man in the room who laughed aloud.
A little later President Hinsdale wrote to General Garfield about the
treasonable views of some copperhead students at Hiram. Above all things
Garfield detested a foe in the rear. He respected a man who avouched his
principles on the crimsoned field, but a traitor, a coward, was to his
candid nature despicable beyond language. His letter in reply is
characteristic:
“HEAD-QUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE CUMBERLAND, }
MURFREESBORO, May 26, 1863. }
“Tell all those copperhead students for me that, were I there in
charge of the school, I would not only dishonorably dismiss them
from the school, but, if they remained in the place and persisted in
their cowardly treason, I would apply to General Burnside to enforce
General Order No. 38 in their cases....
“If these young traitors are in earnest they should go to the
Southern Confederacy, where they can receive full sympathy. Tell
them all that I will furnish them passes through our lines, where
they can join Vallandigham and their other friends till such time as
they can destroy us, and come back home as conquerors of their own
people, or can learn wisdom and obedience.
“I know this apparently is a small matter, but it is only apparently
small. We do not know what the developments of a month may bring
forth, and, if such things be permitted at Hiram, they may anywhere.
The rebels catch up all such facts as sweet morsels of comfort, and
every such influence lengthens the war and adds to the bloodshed.”
It was about the same time the above letter was written that a letter
was brought to Rosecrans’s head-quarters, detailing an extensive plan
for a universal insurrection of the slaves throughout the South. The
rising was to take place August 1st. The slaves were to arm themselves
with whatever they could get, and their especial work was to cut off the
supplies of the rebel forces. “An army is dependent on its belly,” said
Napoleon. To destroy the bridges and railroads within the Confederacy
would swiftly undermine the rebel armies, whose rations and ammunition
came along those routes. With the universal coöperation of the Union
forces, it was thought the Rebellion might be crushed. To secure the
coöperation of Rosecrans was the apparent object of the letter. General
Garfield talked it over with his chief, and denounced the plan in the
most unmeasured terms. He said that if the slaves wanted to revolt that
was one thing. But for the Union army to violate the rules of warfare by
encouraging and combining with a war upon non-combatants was not to be
thought of. The colored people would have committed every excess upon
the innocent women and children of the South. The unfortunate country
would not only be overrun with war, but with riot. Rosecrans resolved to
have nothing to do with it. But Garfield still was not satisfied. The
letter said that several commanders had already given their assent. He
sent the letter to President Lincoln with a statement of the results
which would follow such irregular warfare. A letter of Garfield, written
on the subject, says:
“I am clearly of opinion that the negro project is in every way bad,
and should be repudiated, and, if possible, thwarted. If the slaves
should, of their own accord, rise and assert their original right to
themselves, and cut their way through rebeldom, that is their own
affair; but the Government could have no complicity with it without
outraging the sense of justice of the civilized world. We would
create great sympathy for the rebels abroad, and God knows they have
too much already.”
Lincoln gave the matter his attention, and the slave revolt never took
place in any magnitude. It was an ambitious scheme on paper, and yet was
not utterly impracticable. It was a thing to be crushed in its infancy,
and Garfield’s action was the proper way to do it.
While Garfield was with Rosecrans, he was addressed by some prominent
Northerners upon the subject of running Rosecrans for the Presidency.
Greeley and many leading Republicans were dissatisfied with Lincoln in
1862–’63, and wanted to work up another candidate for the campaign of
’64. Attracted by Rosecrans’s successes, they put the plan on foot by
opening communication with Garfield, in whom they had great confidence,
upon the feasibility of defeating Mr. Lincoln in the convention, with
Rosecrans. Garfield, however, put his foot on the whole ambitious
scheme. He said that no man on earth could equal Lincoln in that trying
hour. To take Rosecrans was to destroy both a wonderful President and an
excellent soldier. So effectually did he smother the plan, that it is
said Rosecrans never heard a whisper of it.
A most important work of General Garfield, as chief of staff, was his
attack upon the corrupting vice of smuggling, and his defense of the
army police. When an army is in an active campaign, marching, fighting,
and fortifying, there is but little corruption developed. But in a large
volunteer army, with its necessarily lax discipline when lying idle for
a long time, its quarters become infested with all the smaller vices.
The men are of every sort; and, as soon as they are idle, their heads
get full of mischief. The Army of the Cumberland, during its long
inactivity at Murfreesboro, soon began to suffer. The citizens were
hostile, and had but two objects—one to serve the Confederacy, the other
to make money for themselves. They thus all became spies and smugglers.
Smuggling was the great army vice. The profits of cotton, smuggled
contraband through the Union lines to the North, and of medicines, arms,
leather, whisky, and a thousand Northern manufactures, through to the
South, were simply incalculable. Bribery was the most effective, but not
the only way of smuggling articles through the lines. The Southern
women, famous the world over for their beauty and their captivating and
passionate manners, would entangle the officers in their meshes in order
to extort favors. To break up this smuggling, and get fresh information
of any plots or pitfalls for the Union army, a system of army police had
been organized at Nashville and Murfreesboro. This was in a fair state
of efficiency when Garfield was appointed chief of staff. To improve it
and make its work more available, General Garfield founded a bureau of
military information, with General D. G. Swaim for its head. For
efficiency, it was never again equaled or approached during the war.
Shortly after the establishment of this bureau of information, a
determined attack was made on the whole institution. “It marshaled its
friends and enemies in almost regimental numbers. Even in the army it
has been violently assailed, not only by the vicious in the ranks, but
by officers whose evil deeds were _not_ past finding out.” The
accusations which were laid before Garfield were always investigated
immediately, and always to the vindication of the police department. A
special officer was at last detailed to investigate the entire
department. His report of the wonderful achievements of the army police
is monumental. Garfield was inexorable. Every officer guilty of
smuggling had to come down, no matter how prominent he was. The chief of
staff set his face like brass against the corruptions. The opportunities
open to him for wealth were immense. All that was necessary for him to
do was to wink at the smuggling. He had absolute power in the matter.
But he fought the evil to its grave. He broke up stealing among the men.
He established a system of regular reports from spies on the enemy. His
police furnished him with the political status of every family in that
section of the State. He knew just the temper of Bragg’s troops, and had
a fair idea of their number. He knew just what corn was selling at in
the enemy’s lines. Located in a hostile country, honeycombed with a
system of rebel spies, he out-spied the enemy, putting spies to watch
its spies. In every public capacity, civil or military, virtue is more
rare and more necessary than genius. General Garfield’s incorruptible
character alone saved the army police from destruction, and restored the
Army of the Cumberland to order and honesty. He had, long before
entering the army, shown wonderful ability for using assistants to
accumulate facts for him. The police institution was an outcropping of
the same thing. No commander during the war had more exact and detailed
information of the enemy than Garfield had at this time.
When General Garfield reached the Army of the Cumberland, it was in a
shattered and exhausted condition. It had no cavalry, the arms were
inferior, and the terrible pounding at Stone River had greatly weakened
it. General Rosecrans insisted on its recuperation and reinforcement
before making another advance. The Department at Washington and Halleck,
Commander-in-chief of the Union forces, were of the opinion that an
advance should be made. Rosecrans, though possessing some high military
skill, was sensitive, headstrong, absorbed in details, and violent of
speech. He demanded cavalry, horses, arms, equipments. Dispatch after
dispatch came insisting on an advance. Sharper and sharper became the
replies. Garfield undertook to soften the venomous correspondence. Angry
messages were sometimes suppressed altogether. But he could not control
the wrathy commander. Rosecrans held a different, and, as it turned out,
an erroneous theory of the best military policy. At first, Garfield’s
views harmonized with those of his superior; but, as the month of April
passed without movement, as his secret service informed him of the
condition and situation of the enemy, he joined his own urgent advice to
that of the Department for an advance. Rosecrans was immovable. The army
of 60,000 men had been in quarters at Murfreesboro since January 6th
without striking a blow at the rebellion. The month of May, with its
opening flowers, its fragrant breezes and blue skies, came and went
without a move. General Garfield was sick at heart, but he could do
nothing. The more Rosecrans was talked to, the more obstinate he became.
Garfield had certain information that Bragg’s army had been divided by
sending reinforcements to Richmond, but nobody believed it. Besides,
Rosecrans was supported in his position by all the generals of his army.
Two of these were incompetent—Crittenden and McCook. They had behaved
shamefully at Stone River. General Garfield urged their removal, and the
substitution of McDowell and Buell. Rosecrans admitted their
inefficiency, but said he hated to injure “two such good fellows.” He
kept them till the “good fellows” injured him.
At last, on the 8th of June, 1863, Rosecrans, yielding somewhat to the
pressure without, and still more to the persuasion of his chief of
staff, laid the situation before the seventeen corps, division and
cavalry generals of his army, and requested a written opinion from each
one upon the advisability of an advance. It is to be remembered that
among the seventeen generals were _Thomas_, _Sheridan_, _Negley_, _Jeff.
C. Davis_, _Hazen_ and _Granger_. Each of these studied the situation,
and presented a written individual opinion. _With astonishing unanimity,
every one of the seventeen opposed an advance._ Rosecrans read the
opinions. They coincided with his own. But there was a man of genius at
his side. Garfield, his confidential adviser, looked at the opinions of
the generals in utter dismay. He saw that a crisis had arrived. The
Department of War peremptorily demanded an advance; and to let the vast
army, with its then excellent equipment, lie idle longer, meant not only
the speedy removal of Rosecrans from command, but the greatest danger to
the Union cause. He asked Rosecrans time to prepare a written reply to
the opinions opposing an advance. Permission was given, though Rosecrans
told him it would be wasted work. Collecting all his powers, he began
his task. Four days and nights it occupied him. At the end of that time,
on June 12th, he presented to Rosecrans the ablest opinion known to have
been given to a commanding officer by his chief of staff during the
entire war. The paper began with a statement of the questions to be
discussed. Next it contained, in tabulated form, the opinions of the
generals upon each question. Then followed a swift summary of the
reasons presented in the seventeen opinions against the advance. Then
began the answer. He presented an elaborate estimate of the strength of
Bragg’s army, probably far more accurate and complete than the rebel
general had himself. It was made up from the official report of Bragg
after the battle of Stone River, from facts obtained from prisoners,
deserters, refugees, rebel newspapers, and, above all, from the reports
of his army police. The argument showed a perfect knowledge of the rules
of organization of the Confederate army. The mass of proofs accompanying
the opinion was overwhelming. Then followed a summary and analysis of
the Army of the Cumberland. Summing up the relative strength of the two
armies, he says, after leaving a strong garrison force at Murfreesboro,
“there will be left sixty-five thousand one hundred and thirty-seven
bayonets and sabers to throw against Bragg’s forty-one thousand six
hundred and eighty.”
He concludes with the following general observations:
“1. Bragg’s army is now weaker than it has been since the battle of
Stone River, or is likely to be again for the present, while our
army has reached its maximum strength, and we have no right to
expect reinforcements for several months, if at all.
“2. Whatever be the result at Vicksburg, the determination of its
fate will give large reinforcements to Bragg. If Grant is
successful, his army will require many weeks to recover from the
shock and strain of his late campaign, while Johnston will send back
to Bragg a force sufficient to insure the safety of Tennessee. If
Grant fails, the same result will inevitably follow, so far as
Bragg’s army is concerned.
“3. No man can predict with certainty the result of any battle,
however great the disparity in numbers. Such results are in the
hands of God. But, viewing the question in the light of human
calculation, I refuse to entertain a doubt that this army, which in
January last defeated Bragg’s superior numbers, can overwhelm his
present greatly inferior forces.
“4. The most unfavorable course for us that Bragg could take would
be to fall back without giving us battle; but this would be very
disastrous to him. Besides, the loss of _matériel_ of war and the
abandonment of the rich and abundant harvest now nearly ripe in
Middle Tennessee, he would lose heavily by desertion. It is well
known that a widespread dissatisfaction exists among his Kentucky
and Tennessee troops. They are already deserting in large numbers. A
retreat would greatly increase both the desire and the opportunity
for desertion, and would very materially reduce his physical and
moral strength. While it would lengthen our communications, it would
give us possession of McMinnville, and enable us to threaten
Chattanooga and East Tennessee; and it would not be unreasonable to
expect an early occupation of the former place.
“5. But the chances are more than even that a sudden and rapid
movement would compel a general engagement, and the defeat of Bragg
would be in the highest degree disastrous to the rebellion.
“6. The turbulent aspect of politics in the loyal States renders a
decisive blow against the enemy at this time of the highest
importance to the success of the Government at the polls, and in the
enforcement of the conscription act.
“7. The Government and the War Department believe that this army
ought to move upon the enemy. The army desires it, and the country
is anxiously hoping for it.
“8. Our true objective point is the rebel army, whose last reserves
are substantially in the field; and an effective blow will crush the
shell, and soon be followed by the collapse of the rebel government.
“9. You have, in my judgment, wisely delayed a general movement
hitherto, till your army could be massed and your cavalry could be
mounted. Your mobile force can now be concentrated in twenty-four
hours; and your cavalry, if not equal in numerical strength to that
of the enemy, is greatly superior in efficiency. For these reasons I
believe an immediate advance of all our available forces is
advisable, and, under the providence of God, will be successful.”
Rosecrans read the opinion, examined the proofs, and was convinced.
“Garfield,” said he, “you have captured me, but how shall the advance be
made?”
The situation was about as follows: Imagine an isosceles triangle, with
its apex to the north at Murfreesboro. Here the Army of the Cumberland
was situated. The base of the triangle was about fifty miles long, and
constituted the enemy’s front, with its right terminating at
McMinnville, the south-east corner of the triangle, and its left at
Columbia, the south-west corner of the figure. At the middle of the base
was the village of Wartrace; and almost due west of Wartrace, but a
little below the base of the triangle, was Shelbyville, where the
enemy’s center was situated, behind massive fortifications. Between
Shelbyville and Wartrace was massed the enemy’s infantry, the extreme
wings being composed of cavalry. At a little distance north of the
enemy’s front, and forming the base of the triangle, was a “range of
hills, rough and rocky, through whose depressions, called gaps, the main
roads to the South passed. These gaps were held by strong detachments
with heavy columns within supporting distance.” Any one can see the
enormous strength of the enemy’s position for defense. But it had still
other sources of strength. Behind the enemy’s left and center was Duck
River, a deep torrent, with tremendous banks. If they were pressed in
front, the rebel army could fall back south of the river, burn the
bridges, and gain ample time for retreat to the lofty range of the
Cumberland Mountains, which were only a day’s march to the rear. On a
direct line with Murfreesboro and Wartrace, and at the same distance
south of Wartrace, as Murfreesboro was north of it, was Tullahoma, the
dépôt of the enemy’s supplies, and hence the key to the situation.
Posted in this almost impregnable situation, Bragg’s army was the master
of Central Tennessee. It is evident that the campaign, which Garfield so
powerfully urged, was a great undertaking. The narrow mountain gaps
heavily fortified; behind the range of hills the great body of the rebel
army intrenched in heavy fortifications; behind them the natural defense
of Duck River, and still to the south, the Cumberland Mountains, formed
an aggregation of obstacles almost insuperable. The plan of the campaign
which followed must, in military history, be accredited to Rosecrans,
because he was the General in command; but biography cares not for
military custom, and names its author and originator the chief of staff.
The reason Garfield urged the advance, was that he had a plan, the
merits of which we will examine hereafter, by which he was convinced it
might be successfully made.
There were substantially three ways by which the Union army might
advance: one lay along the west side of the triangle to Columbia, there
attacking the enemy’s left wing; another to march directly south to
Shelbyville, and fall upon the enemy’s center; a third, to advance by
two roads, cutting the base of the triangle about midway between the
enemy’s center and extreme right. A fourth route was possible, along the
eastern side of the triangle to McMinnville; but if the enemy’s right
was to be attacked, the Manchester roads were every way preferable, as
being more direct. General Garfield’s selection was the third route. His
plan was to throw a heavy force forward on the road to Shelbyville, as
if intending to attack the rebel center. Then, under cover of this
feint, swiftly throw the bulk of the army upon the enemy’s right, turn
the flank, cross Duck River, and march swiftly to the enemy’s rear,
threatening his supplies, thus compelling Bragg to fall back from his
tremendous stronghold at Shelbyville, and either give battle in the open
country or abandon the entire region.
On the 23d of June the movement was begun by the advance of General
Granger’s division toward Shelbyville. At the same time a demonstration
was made toward the enemy’s left, to create the belief that feints were
being made to distract the enemy’s attention from what would be supposed
the main attack on Shelbyville. Meanwhile the bulk of the army was
advanced along the two roads leading to the middle of the enemy’s
right—the east road leading through Liberty Gap, and the west through
Hoover’s Gap, a defile three miles long. On the twenty-fourth a terrible
rain began, continuing day and night, for over a week. It rendered the
wretched roads almost impassable, and terribly increased the
difficulties of the army. The artillery sunk hub-deep in the almost
bottomless mire. Great teams of twelve and fourteen powerful horses
“stalled” with small field-pieces. Never a minute did the rain let up.
The men’s clothing was so drenched that it was not dry for two weeks.
The army wagons, hundreds in number, carrying the precious bacon and
hard-tack, stuck fast on the roads. So fearful was the mire that on one
day the army only advanced a mile and a-half.
But the advance was pushed as rapidly as possible. Liberty Gap and
Hoover’s were both captured. The demonstrations on the enemy’s left and
center were kept up with great vigor. Bragg was wholly deceived by the
numerous points of attack. On the twenty-seventh the entire army was
concentrated, and passed rapidly through Hoover’s Gap, and on to
Manchester. While the army was concentrating at Manchester, General
Thomas, on the twenty-eighth, began the final move in the game—the
advance upon Tullahoma. Bragg had retreated from Shelbyville, owing to
the danger which threatened his supplies. On the twenty-ninth he
evacuated Tullahoma for the same reason. An attempt was made to
intercept his retreat and force him to battle. But the terrible
condition of the roads and rivers rendered the effort futile. Bragg
crossed the Cumberland Mountains, and Central Tennessee was once more in
the hands of the Union army. Had the Tullahoma campaign been begun a
week earlier, before the rains set in, Bragg’s army would inevitably
have been destroyed. The rebel army, of 50,000 veterans, had been driven
from a natural stronghold of the most formidable character; and had lost
all the fruits of a year’s victories by a single campaign of nine days,
conducted in one of the most extraordinary rains ever known in
Tennessee. There were 1,700 rebel prisoners taken, several parks of
artillery, and an enormous amount of Confederate army stores at
Tullahoma. This campaign and its victory was not the result of battle,
but of pure strategy, confessedly the highest art in war.
As to whom the credit of the plan of the campaign belonged, there could
be no question. As we have shown, it is impossible to separate the
double star of Garfield and Rosecrans by military etiquette. But aside
from the facts that the campaign was begun as a result of Garfield’s
argument, in the face of unanimous opposition, the following fact is
conclusive as to whom belongs the glory. On the morning of the
twenty-third, when the movement was begun, General Thomas L. Crittenden,
one of the corps commanders, went to head-quarters and said to General
Garfield: “_It is understood, sir, by the general officers of the army
that this movement is your work. I wish you to understand that it is a
rash and fatal move, for which you will be held responsible._”
The lips of an enemy are now made to bear unwilling testimony to the
glory and the credit of the chief of staff. In his report to the War
Department, just as this campaign was getting started, General Rosecrans
says: “I hope it will not be considered invidious if I specially mention
Brigadier-General James A. Garfield, an able soldier, zealous, devoted
to duty, prudent and sagacious. I feel much indebted to him both for his
counsel and assistance in the administration of this army. He possesses
the instincts and energy of a great commander.”
Historians are unanimous in their opinion that the Tullahoma campaign
was one of the most masterly exhibitions of strategic genius possible to
the commander of a great army. Mahan, author of the _Critical History of
the Civil War_, who is ever ready to attack and expose the blunders of
the Union generals, declares that this Tullahoma campaign shows “_as
skillful combinations as the history of war presents_.”
But the Tullahoma campaign was not the conclusion of the advance which
General Garfield had so persistently urged, and the success of which had
been so triumphantly demonstrated. An important line of defense had been
broken through; an enormous piece of territory had been captured. But
Bragg still held Chattanooga, which was the objective point of the Army
of the Cumberland. In his argument of June 12, to induce an advance,
Garfield had said: “While it would lengthen our communications, it would
give us possession of McMinnville, and _enable us to threaten
Chattanooga_ and East Tennessee; _and it would not be unreasonable to
expect an early occupation of the former place_.” It is yet to be seen
what fulfillment there was of this prophecy.
After the Tullahoma victory, and Bragg’s retreat behind the Tennessee
River, Rosecrans stopped. Again, the War Department ordered an advance.
Again, the commander-in-chief refused. Again, Garfield urged that no
delay take place. Rosecrans was immovable. The Department waited; the
army waited; the country waited. At last the following dispatch was
received:
“WASHINGTON, August 5, 1863.
“The orders for the advance of your army, and that its progress be
reported daily, are peremptory.
H. W. HALLECK.”
The thing required was stupendous, but the results show it was not
impossible. Sixty miles from the Union army was the Tennessee River and
Cumberland Mountains. Both run from north-east to south-west. There are
in these lofty mountain ranges occasional gaps, through which the great
east and west traffic of the country takes place. Chattanooga, in 1863 a
town of fifteen hundred inhabitants, is in the most important of these
gaps—the one through which passes the Tennessee River and an important
net-work of railroads. The town is right in the mountains, twenty-five
hundred feet above the sea-level, and was strongly fortified, and
practically impregnable to assault. Along the north-west front of the
town runs the river, which would have to be crossed by the Union forces.
On the southern side of the river, below Chattanooga, are three parallel
ranges: Sand Mountain, Lookout Mountain, and Pigeon Ridge,—the valleys
between the ridges running up to the gap at Chattanooga. North-east of
the town the ridges begin again, and the general configuration of the
country is similar. Chattanooga was south-east from where the Union army
was situated. The town was the lock, and Bragg’s army the key, to the
door to Georgia, Virginia, and the Carolinas. To unlock this door was
the task before the Army of the Cumberland.
But the problem of Rosecrans’s advance contained other complications
beside the deep river, the lofty mountains, and the heavy
fortifications. His army had to depend for its supplies upon Louisville,
Kentucky, and the slender line of railway from that place. Every advance
necessitated the weakening of his army by leaving strong detachments to
preserve this communication; while, on the other hand, Bragg, already
reinforced, would grow stronger all the time as he fell back on his
reserves.
It is reasonable to suppose that the reason Garfield had urged the
advance toward Chattanooga was that he saw a way in which it could be
made. When the peremptory order came, a plan for the advance was
projected, which, though vaster and more complicated than that of the
Tullahoma campaign, contains the same elements, and shows itself to have
been the work of the same mind. It was, indeed, a continuation of the
same campaign. The plan was Rosecrans’s, because he adopted it. It was
Garfield’s, because he originated it. The theory of the advance was to
pass the enemy’s flank, march to his rear, threaten his line of supplies
and compel him, by military strategy, to evacuate Chattanooga, as he had
Shelbyville and Tullahoma. The door would thus be unlocked, and Bragg’s
army driven from its last fortification to the open country. The details
of the plan, as prepared by Garfield, will appear as the advance is
explained. On August 16th began the movement of the army across the
mountains toward the Tennessee River. The paramount effort in the manner
of the advance was to deceive the enemy as to the real intention.
The army made the movement along three separate routes. Crittenden’s
corps, forming the left, was to advance by a circuitous route, to a
point about fifteen miles south-west of Chattanooga, and make his
crossing of the Tennessee River there. Thomas, as our center, was to
cross a little farther down stream, and McCook, thirty miles farther to
the right. These real movements were to be made under the cover of an
apparent one. About seven thousand men marched directly to the river
shore, opposite Chattanooga, as if a direct attack were to be made on
the place. “The extent of front presented, the show of strength, the
vigorous shelling of the city by Wilder’s artillery, the bold expression
of the whole movement, constituted a brilliant feint.” Bragg was
deceived again. Absorbed in the operations in front of the place, he
offered no resistance to the crossing of the Tennessee River by the main
army.
By September 3d, the Union forces were all on the southern side of the
Tennessee. Sand Mountain, the first of the ridges on that side of the
river, rises abruptly from the bank. The repair and construction of
roads occupied a little time; but Thomas and McCook pushed forward
vigorously, and by the evening of the 6th of September had crossed Sand
Mountain, and occupied the valley between it and the Lookout Range. Each
of these corps had crossed the range at points opposite their crossings
of the river, and, though in the same valley, were thirty-five miles
apart. Crittenden, instead of crossing, turned to his left, and marched
up the river bank toward Chattanooga, and crossed into the Lookout
Valley by a pass near the town. On the 7th the next stage of the
movement began, viz: the crossing of Lookout Range, in order to pass to
the enemy’s rear, and, by endangering his supplies, compel him to
abandon Chattanooga.
As soon as Bragg’s spy-glasses on Lookout Mountain, at Chattanooga,
disclosed this movement, the order to evacuate the place was given.
Shelbyville and Tullahoma were repeated, and on the morning of September
9th Crittenden marched in and took the place without the discharge of a
gun. Strategy had again triumphed. The door was unlocked. The fall of
Chattanooga was accomplished. The plan of the campaign had been carried
out successfully. The North was electrified. The South utterly
discomfited. Of the fall of Chattanooga, which, as we have shown, was
but the continuation of the plan of the Tullahoma campaign, and was
predicted by Garfield, even to the manner of its accomplishment, in his
argument to Rosecrans in favor of an advance, Pollard, the Confederate
historian, writes:
“Thus we were maneuvered out of this strategic stronghold. Two-thirds of
our niter beds were in this region, and a large proportion of the coal
which supplied our foundries. It abounded in the necessaries of life. It
was one of the strongest mountain countries in the world; so full of
lofty mountains that it has been not inaptly called the Switzerland of
America. As the possession of Switzerland opened the door to the
invasion of Italy, Germany, and France, so the possession of East
Tennessee gave easy access to Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, and
Alabama.”
It is easy to see that behind this masterly strategy there was a
masterly strategist. That man was Rosecrans’s chief of staff.
What had become of Bragg’s army of fifty thousand men? Rosecrans thought
it was in full retreat. Halleck, Commander-in-chief, telegraphed from
Washington, on the 11th, that information had been received that
_Bragg’s army was being used to reinforce Lee_, a certain indication of
retreat. The fact was that Lee was reinforcing Bragg. Halleck also
telegraphed on the same day that reinforcements were coming to
Rosecrans, and that it would be decided whether he should _move further_
into Georgia and Alabama. This telegram completed the delusion of
Rosecrans. He believed Bragg was many miles to the south. The campaign
planned by Garfield had been completed. But Rosecrans made a fatal
blunder. Instead of marching the corps of Thomas and McCook up the
Lookout Valley to Chattanooga, and uniting them with Crittenden’s, he
ordered the crossing of the range as a flank movement to be continued in
order to intercept Bragg’s supposed retreat. Accordingly, on the 11th
and 12th, Thomas recommenced to push over Lookout Mountain through a
pass, twenty-five miles south-east of Chattanooga; and thirty-five miles
beyond Thomas, McCook was doing the same thing.
With the Union army thus divided, Bragg was waiting his terrible
opportunity. Instead of being in full retreat, many miles away, his
entire army occupied Pigeon Ridge along the valley on the southern side
of Lookout Range, into which Thomas and McCook must descend from the
Mountain passes. Down the center of this valley runs a little river, the
CHICKAMAUGA. On the southern side of this stream, just opposite the pass
from which Thomas’s corps of eighteen thousand devoted men would emerge,
was concentrated the entire rebel army, waiting to destroy the isolated
parts of the Army of the Cumberland in detail. The region occupied by
Bragg was covered with dense forests, and he was further concealed by
the low heights of Pigeon Ridge. When Thomas’s corps should have
debouched from the pass through Lookout Range, and crossed the
Chickamauga to ascend Pigeon Ridge, it was to be overwhelmed. Then
McCook and Crittenden, sixty-five miles apart, would be separately
destroyed. It fortunately happened that General Negley’s division
descended from the gap on the 12th, and crossed the Chickamauga several
miles in advance of the main body of Thomas’s corps. Unexpectedly,
finding the enemy in great force on the opposite ridge, he swiftly
withdrew, checked Thomas from further advance, and enabled the corps to
take up an impregnable position in the gap through Lookout Range.
Thus foiled, Bragg then resolved to strike Crittenden, but eventually
failed in this also. These failures gave the alarm. Bragg’s army was not
ready for flight but for fight. It was now a matter of life and death
for Rosecrans to concentrate his army before battle. Couriers were
dispatched at break-neck speed to McCook, sixty-five miles away, and to
Crittenden who had pushed on twenty miles beyond Chattanooga, in
imaginary pursuit of Bragg. In some absolutely inexplicable way, Bragg
failed for four days to make the attack. In those precious days, from
September 13th to 17th, Garfield worked night and day, as chief of
staff, to reach the scattered divisions, explore the shortest roads
through those lofty mountains, and hasten that combination which alone
could save the army from destruction. The suspense was terrible. But
Bragg lost his opportunity by delaying too long. Heavy reinforcements
for him were arriving, and he thought he was growing stronger. On the
17th and 18th Bragg was found to be moving his army up the valley toward
Chattanooga, thus extending his right far beyond Rosecrans’s left, with
the evident object of throwing his army upon the roads between the Union
army and Chattanooga. To meet this, the Union army was moved in the same
direction.
These movements of both armies up the valley, Bragg being south of the
Chickamauga and Rosecrans north, were continued until the position was
almost south of Chattanooga, instead of south-west. Parallel with our
army, and immediately in its rear, were two roads leading to
Chattanooga,—the one immediately in the rear known as the Lafayette or
Rossville road; the other a little further back, as the Dry Valley road.
At the junction of these roads, half way to Chattanooga, itself eight
miles distant, was the town of Rossville. These roads were the prizes
for which was to be fought one of the most bloody and awful battles of
the war. The loss of either was equally fatal, but the main Rossville
road, being the most exposed, was the principal object of the enemy’s
attacks. The efforts of the enemy at first were to overlap or turn the
left flank. This would have given them the Rossville road. Failing in
this they drove the center back, the center and left turning like a door
upon the hinge at the extreme left, until the line of battle was formed
directly across the roads instead of parallel with them. This was
accomplished during the second day’s fight.
General Thomas commanded the left wing, Crittenden the center, and
McCook the right. The front of the army, facing almost east, was ranged
up and down the valley from north to south, with the river in front and
the roads in their rear. The whole valley was covered with dense
forests, except where a farm had been made, and was full of rocky hills
and ridges. So much concealed was one part of the valley from another,
that the rebel army of fifty thousand men was formed in line of battle
within a mile of the union lines on the same side of the river, without
either army suspecting the other’s presence.
Such was the situation on the morning of September 19th, 1863. The world
knows of the awful conflict which followed. General Garfield was located
at Widow Glenn’s house, in the rear of the right wing. This was
Rosecrans’s head-quarters. General Thomas located himself at Kelley’s
farm-house in the rear of the left wing. For three nights General
Garfield had not slept as many hours. Every anxious order, for the
concentration of the army, had come from him; every courier and aid
during those days and nights of suspense reported to him in person;
before him lay his maps; each moment since the thirteenth he had known
the exact position of the different corps and divisions of our vast
army. Looking for the attack at any moment, it was necessary to
constantly know the situation of the enemy among those gloomy mountains
and sunless forests. When the red tide of battle rolled through the
valley, each part of the line was ignorant of all the rest of the line.
The right wing could not even guess the direction of the left wing. The
surrounding forests and the hills shut in the center so completely that
it did not know where either of the wings were. Every division commander
simply obeyed the orders from head-quarters, took his position, and
fought. The line of battle was formed in the night. To misunderstand
orders and take the wrong position was easy. But so lucid were the
commands, so particular the explanations which came from the man at
head-quarters, that the line of battle was perfect. Many battles of the
war were fought with but few orders from head-quarters; some without any
concerted plan at all. Pittsburgh Landing, of the latter sort;
Gettysburg, of the former sort. At Gettysburg, the commander-in-chief,
General Meade, had little to do with the battle. The country was open,
the enemy’s whereabouts was visible, and each division commander placed
his troops just where they could do the most good. Not so at
Chickamauga. No battle of the war required so many and such incessant
orders from head-quarters. The only man in the Union army who knew the
whole situation of our troops was General Garfield. Amid the forests,
ravines and hills along the five miles of battle front, the only
possible way to maintain a unity of plan and a concert of action was for
the man at head-quarters to know it all. General Garfield knew the
entire situation as if it had been a chess-board, and each division of
the army a man. At a touch, by the player, the various brigades and
divisions assumed their positions.
Every thing thus far said has been of the combatants. But there were
others on the battle-field. There were the inhabitants of this valley,
non-combatants, inviolate by the rules of civilized warfare. Of this
sort were the rustic people at Widow Glenn’s, where General Garfield
passed the most memorable days of his life. The house was a Tennessee
cabin. Around it lay a little farm with small clearings. Here the widow
lived with her three children, one a young man, the others a girl and
boy of tender age. As General Garfield took up his head-quarters there
it is said to have reminded him powerfully of his own childhood home
with his toiling mother. All the life of these children had been passed
in this quiet valley. Of the outside world they knew little, and cared
less. They did not know the meaning of the word war. They were ignorant
and poverty-stricken, but peaceful. Shut in by the mountains of
ignorance, as well as the lofty ranges along the valley, they had known
no event more startling than the flight of birds through the air or the
rustle of the wind through the forest. The soil was rocky and barren
like their minds; yet, unvisited by calamity, they were happy.
But suddenly this quiet life was broken into. The forests were filled
with armed men. The cabin was taken possession of by the officers. A
sentinel stood at the door. Outside stood dozens of horses, saddled and
bridled. Every moment some one mounted and dashed away; every moment
some other dismounted from his breathless and foam-flecked steed and
rushed into the cabin. The widow, stunned and frightened, sat in the
corner with an arm around each of her children. The little girl cried,
but the boy’s curiosity got somewhat the better of his fear. A time or
two General Garfield took the little fellow on his knee, and quieted his
alarm. The fences were torn down and used for camp fires. Great trees
were hastily felled for barricades. In front of the house passed and
repassed bodies of troops in uniform, and with deadly rifles. Now and
then a body of cavalry dashed by in a whirlwind of dust. Great cannon,
black and hideous, thundered down the rocky road, shaking the solid
earth in their terrible race. The cabin-yard was filled with soldiers.
The well was drained dry by them to fill their canteens. It was like a
nightmare to the trembling inhabitants of the cabin. Their little crops
were tramped into dust by the iron tread of war. On a hill in front of
the cabin, where nothing more dangerous than a plow had ever been, a
battery frowned. The valley which had never been disturbed by any thing
more startling than the screech of an owl, or the cackle of the
barn-yard, was filled with a muffled roar from the falling trees and the
shouts of men.
When morning broke on the 19th of September, 1863, on this secluded
spot, the clarion of the strutting cock was supplanted by the
bugle-call. The moaning of the wind through the forest was drowned in
the incessant roll of the drums. The movement of troops before the cabin
from right to left became more rapid. The consultations within became
more eager and hurried. Mysterious notes, on slips of white paper, were
incessantly written by General Garfield and handed to orderlies, who
galloped away into the forest. Spread out before him, on an improvised
table, lay his maps, which he constantly consulted. At one time, after a
long study of the map, he said to General Rosecrans: “Thomas will have
the brunt of the battle. The Rossville road must be held at all
hazards.” Rosecrans replied: “It is true. Thomas must hold it, if he has
to be reinforced by the entire army.” At another time, a messenger
dashed into the room, and handed the chief of staff an envelope. Quietly
opening it, he calmly read aloud: “Longstreet has reinforced Bragg with
seventeen thousand troops from Lee’s Virginia army.”
Toward nine o’clock in the morning, the movement of troops along the
road ceased. The roar in the forest subsided. No more orders were sent
by General Garfield. There was suspense. It was as if every one were
waiting for something. The drums no longer throbbed; the bugle-call
ceased from echoing among the mountains. A half hour passed. The silence
was death-like. As the sun mounted upward it seemed to cast darker
shadows than usual. The house-dog gave utterance to the most plaintive
howls. The chickens were gathered anxiously together under a shed, as if
it were about to rain. It was. But the rain was to be red. Passing over
through the forest, one saw that the troops were drawn up in lines, all
with their backs toward the road and the cabin, and facing the direction
of the river. That was half a mile away, but its gurgle and plashing
could be easily heard in the silence. It sent a shudder through one’s
frame, as if it were the gurgle and plashing of blood. The only other
sound that broke the quiet was the whinnying of cavalry horses far off
to the right. The dumb brutes seemed anxious, and nervously answered
each other’s eager calls.
Just as the hand of the clock reached ten there was a report from a gun.
It came from the extreme left, miles away. General Garfield stepped
quickly to the door, and listened. There was another gun, and another,
and fifty more, swelling to a roar. Turning to Rosecrans, Garfield said:
“It has begun.” To which the commander replied: “Then, God help us.”
Heavier and heavier became the roar. The engagement on the left was
evidently becoming heavier. A quarter of an hour later messengers began
to arrive. The enemy was endeavoring to turn the left-flank, but was
being repulsed with heavy loss. A few moments later came the word that
the enemy had captured ten pieces of artillery. The order had been given
for one division of the troops to fall back. It was obeyed. But the
artillerymen had been unable to move the guns back in time. The heavy
undergrowth in the forest, the fallen and rotting logs, had made it slow
work to drag back the ponderous cannon. The red-shirted cannoneers were
still bravely working to move their battery to the rear after the line
had fallen back from them a long distance. Suddenly, with a fierce yell,
the rebel column poured in upon them. Guns and gunners were captured.
At 11:30 came a call from General Thomas for reinforcements. General
Garfield swiftly wrote an order for divisions in the center to march to
the left and reinforce General Thomas. Another courier was dispatched to
the right, ordering troops to take the place of those removed from the
center. At half-past twelve these movements were completed. So far, the
only attack had been on the left, though the tide of battle was rolling
slowly down the line. General Rosecrans and General Garfield held an
earnest consultation. It was decided to order an advance on the right
center, in order to prevent the enemy from concentrating his whole army
against our left wing.
Before long the din of conflict could be heard opposite the cabin. The
advance was being fiercely contested. Messengers one after another came
asking for reinforcements. General Garfield received their messages,
asked each one a question or two, turned for a few moments to his map,
and then issued orders for support to the right center. As the battle
raged fiercer in front of the cabin, the sounds from the extreme left
grew lighter. At two o’clock they ceased altogether. The battery had
been recaptured, and the enemy silenced for the time being. Meanwhile,
the battle at the center became more terrible. Ambulances hurried along.
Poor fellows, pale and bleeding, staggered back to the road.
Occasionally a shell dropped near the cabin, exploding with frightful
force. The roar was deafening. General Garfield had to shout to General
Rosecrans in order to be understood. The domestic animals around the
cabin were paralyzed with fright. No thunder-storm, rattling among the
mountain peaks, had ever shaken the earth like the terrific roar of the
shotted guns. A half mile in front of the cabin, a dense smoke rose over
the tops of the trees. All day long it poured upward in black volumes.
The air became stifling with a sulphurous smell of gunpowder. The
messengers hurrying to and from the cabin had changed in appearance. The
bright, clean uniforms of the morning were torn and muddy. Their faces
were black with smoke; their eyes bloodshot with fever. Some of them
came up with bleeding wounds. When General Garfield called attention to
the injury, they would say: “It is only a scratch.” In the excitement of
battle men receive death wounds without being conscious that they are
struck. Some of the messengers sent out came back no more forever. Their
horses would gallop up the road riderless. The riders had found the
serenity of death. “They were asleep in the windowless palace of rest.”
It was impossible to predict the issue of the conflict in the center. At
one minute, a dispatch was handed Garfield, saying that the line was
broken, and the enemy pouring through. Before he had finished the
reading, another message said that our troops had rallied, and were
driving the enemy. This was repeated several times.
The scene of this conflict was Vineyard’s farm. It was a clearing,
surrounded on all sides by the thickest woods. The troops of each army,
in the alternations of advance and retreat, found friendly cover in the
woods, or fatal exposure in the clearing. It was this configuration of
the battle-field which caused the fluctuations of the issue. Time after
time a column of blue charged across the clearing, and was driven back
to rally in the sheltering forest. Time after time did the line of gray
advance from the shade into the sunlight only to retire, leaving half
their number stretched lifeless on the field. It was a battle within a
battle. The rest of the army could hear the terrific roar, but were
ignorant of the whereabouts of the conflict. The farm and the
surrounding woods was a distinct battle-field. The struggle upon it,
though an important element in a great battle on a vast field, was,
during the later hours of its continuance, a separate battle, mapped
upon the open field and forest in glaring insulation by the bodies of
the slain.
Meanwhile, in hurrying reinforcements to this portion of the line of
battle, a chasm was opened between the center and left. Troops were
thrown forward to occupy it, but the enemy had discovered the weakness,
and hurled forward heavy columns against the devoted Union lines. The
struggle here was the counterpart of the one at the Vineyard farm. At
the latter place the line was, at one time in the afternoon, driven back
to the Lafayette road; but, towards evening, the divisions which had
repulsed the attack on General Thomas’s extreme left were shifted down
to the scene of these other conflicts, and the enemy was finally driven
back with heavy loss.
When this was accomplished, the sun had already sunk behind the western
range. Night swiftly drew her mantle over the angry field, and spread
above the combatants her canopy of stars. The firing became weaker; only
now and then a sullen shot was fired into the night. The first day of
Chickamauga was done. In a little while ten thousand camp-fires blazed
up in the forest, throwing somber shadows back of every object. At every
fire could be seen the frying bacon and the steaming coffee-pot, singing
as merrily as if war and battle were a thousand miles away. The men had
eaten nothing since five o’clock in the morning. They had the appetites
of hungry giants. Many a messmate’s place was empty. Many a corpse lay
in the thicket, with a ball through the heart. But in the midst of
horror the men were happy. The coffee and bacon and hard-tack tasted to
the heroes like a banquet of the gods. With many a song and many a jest
they finished the meal, rolled up in their blankets, and, lying down on
the ground, with knapsacks for pillows, were fast asleep in the
darkness. The red embers of the camp-fires gradually went out. The
darkness and the silence were unbroken, save by the gleam of a star
through the overarching branches, or the tramp of the watchful sentinels
among the rustling leaves.
But at Widow Glenn’s cabin there was no sleep. General Garfield
dispatched messengers to the different generals of the army to assemble
for a council of war. It was eleven o’clock before all were present.
Long and anxious was the session. The chief of staff marked out the
situation of each division of the army upon his map. The losses were
estimated, and the entire ground gone over. On the whole, the issue of
the day had been favorable. The army having been on the defensive, might
be considered so far victorious in that it had held its own. The line of
battle was now continuous, and much shorter than in the morning. The
general movement of troops during the day had been from right to left.
The battle front was still parallel with the Chattanooga roads. General
Thomas still held his own. The losses had been heavy, but not so severe
as the enemy’s. But it was evident that the battle would be renewed on
the morrow. The troops, already exhausted by forced marches in the
effort to concentrate before attack, had all been engaged during the
day. It was tolerably certain, General Garfield thought, from the
reports of his scouts, that the enemy would have fresh troops to oppose
to the wearied men. This would necessitate all the army being brought
into action again on the next day. In case the enemy should succeed in
getting the roads to Chattanooga, there was no alternative but the
entire destruction of the splendid Army of the Cumberland. Still further
concentration of the forces on the left, to reinforce General Thomas,
was decided on. Many of the tired troops had to be roused from their
sleep for this movement. There was no rest at head-quarters. When
morning dawned the light still shone from the cabin window.
On the morning of September 20, 1863, a dense fog rose from the
Chickamauga River, and, mixing with the smoke from the battle of the day
before, filled the valley. This fact delayed the enemy’s attack. The sun
rose, looking through the fog like a vast disk of blood. General
Garfield noticed it, and, pointing to the phenomenon, said: “It is
ominous. It will indeed be a day of blood.” By nine o’clock the fog
lifted sufficiently for the attack. As on the day before, it began on
the left, rolling down the line. From early morning General Thomas
withstood the furious assaults of the constantly reinforced enemy. The
change of the line in the night had been such that it was the right wing
instead of the center which was now in front of the Widow Glenn’s. The
battle was fierce and more general than the day before. The demands for
reinforcements on the left came faster and faster. Division after
division was moved to the left. In the midst of a battle these movements
are dangerous. A single order, given from head-quarters without a
perfect comprehension of the situation of the troops, a single ambiguous
phrase, a single erroneous punctuation mark in the hastily-written
dispatch, may cost thousands of lives in a few minutes. In a battle like
Chickamauga, where the only unity possible is by perfect and swift
obedience to the commands from head-quarters, a single misunderstood
sentence may change the destiny of empires.
The information received at Widow Glenn’s up to ten o’clock of the 20th
showed that the troops, though wearied, were holding their own. Up to
this time General Garfield, appreciating each emergency as it occurred,
had directed every movement, and written every order during the battle.
Not a blunder had occurred. His clear, unmistakable English, had not a
doubtful phrase or a misplaced comma. Every officer had understood and
executed just what was expected of him. The fury of the storm had so far
spent itself in vain.
At half-past ten, an aid galloped up to the cabin and informed General
Rosecrans that there was a chasm in the center, between the divisions of
General Reynolds on the left and General Wood on the right. Unfortunate
moment! Cruel fate! In a moment a blunder was committed which was almost
to destroy our heroic army. In the excitement of the crisis, Rosecrans
varied from his custom of consulting the chief of staff. General
Garfield was deeply engaged at another matter. Rosecrans called another
aid to write an order instantly directing Wood to close the gap by
moving to his left. Here is the document as it was dashed down at that
memorable and awful moment:
“HEAD-QUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF CUMBERLAND, }
“September 20th—10.45 A. M. }
“_Brigadier-General Wood, Commanding Division:_
“The general commanding directs that you close up on Reynolds as
fast as possible, and support him. Respectfully, etc.,
“FRANK S. BOND, Major and Aid-de-camp.”
Had General Garfield been consulted that order would never have been
written. _Wood was not next to Reynolds. General Brannan’s division was
in the line between them._ Brannan’s force stood back from the line
somewhat. The aid, galloping rapidly over the field, did not know that a
little farther back in the forest stood Brannan’s division. It looked to
him like a break in the line. General Rosecrans was either ignorant, or
forgot that Brannan was there. General Garfield alone knew the situation
of every division on the battle-field. _This fatal order was the only
one of the entire battle which he did not write himself._ On receipt of
the order, General Wood was confused. He could not close up on Reynolds
because Brannan was in the way. Supposing, however, from the words of
the order, that Reynolds was heavily pressed, and that the intention was
to reinforce him, and knowing the extreme importance of obeying orders
from head-quarters, in order to prevent the army from getting
inextricably tangled in the forest, he promptly marched his division
backward, passed to the rear of Brannan, and thus to the rear of and
support of Reynolds.
The fatal withdrawal of Wood from the line of battle was simultaneous
with a Confederate advance. Failing in his desperate and bloody attacks
upon the left, Bragg ordered an advance all along the line. Right
opposite the chasm left by Wood was Longstreet, the most desperate
fighter of the Confederacy, with seventeen thousand veteran troops from
Lee’s army. Formed in solid column, three-quarters of a mile long, on
they came right at the gap. Two brigades of Federal troops, under
General Lytle, reached the space first, but were instantly ground to
powder beneath this tremendous ram. Right through the gap came the
wedge, splitting the Union army in two. In fifteen minutes the entire
right wing was a rout. One-half the army was in a dead run toward
Rossville. Guns, knapsacks, blankets, whatever could impede them, was
hastily thrown away.
So sudden was the rout that the stream of fugitives, swarming back from
the woods, was the first information received at Widow Glenn’s that the
line had been pierced. There was no time to be lost. Behind the fleeing
troops came the iron columns of the enemy. In five minutes more the
cabin would be in their hands. Hastily gathering his precious maps,
Garfield followed Rosecrans on horseback, over to the Dry Valley road.
Here General Garfield dismounted, and exerted all his powers to stem the
tide of retreat. Snatching a flag from a flying color-bearer, he shouted
at the deaf ears of the mob. Seizing men by their shoulders he would
turn them around, and then grasp others to try and form a nucleus to
resist the flood. It was useless. The moment he took his hands off of a
man he would run.
Rejoining Rosecrans, who believed that the entire army was routed, the
commander said: “Garfield, what can be done?” Undismayed by the
panic-stricken army crowding past him, which is said to be the most
demoralizing and unnerving sight on earth, Garfield calmly said, “One of
us should go to Chattanooga, secure the bridges in case of total defeat,
and collect the fragments of the army on a new line. The other should
make his way, if possible, to Thomas, explain the situation, and tell
him to hold his ground at any cost, until the army can be rallied at
Chattanooga.” “Which will you do?” asked Rosecrans. “Let me go to the
front,” was General Garfield’s instant reply. “It is dangerous,” said
he, “but the army and country can better afford for me to be killed than
for you.” They dismounted for a hurried consultation. With ear on the
ground, they anxiously listened to the sound of Thomas’s guns. “It is no
use,” said Rosecrans. “The fire is broken and irregular. Thomas is
driven. Let us both hurry to Chattanooga, to save what can be saved.”
But General Garfield had a better ear. “You are mistaken. The fire is
still in regular volleys. Thomas holds his own, and must be informed of
the situation. Send orders to Sheridan, and the other commanders of the
right wing, to collect the fragments of their commands and move them
through Rossville, and back on the Lafayette road, to Thomas’s support.”
There were a few more hurried words; then a grasp of the hand and the
commander and his chief of staff separated, the one to go to the rear,
the other to the front. Rosecrans has said that he felt Garfield would
never come back again.
[Illustration: GARFIELD AT THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.]
Then began that world-famous ride. No one knew the situation of the
troops, the cause of the disaster, and the way to retrieve it like the
chief of staff. To convey that priceless information to Thomas, Garfield
determined to do or to die. He was accompanied by Captain Gano, who had
come from General Thomas before the disaster, and knew how to reach him;
besides these two, each officer had an orderly. On they galloped up the
Dry Valley road, parallel with, but two miles back of, the morning’s
line of battle. After reaching a point opposite the left wing, they
expected to cross to General Thomas. But Longstreet’s column, after
passing the Union center, had turned to its right at Widow Glenn’s, to
march to the rear of General Thomas, and thus destroy that part of the
army which still stood fighting the foe in its face. The course of
Longstreet was thus parallel with the road along which Garfield
galloped. At every effort to cross to the front he found the enemy
between him and General Thomas.
It was a race between the rebel column and the noble steed on which
Garfield rode. Up and down along the stony valley road, sparks flying
from the horse’s heels, two of the party hatless, and all breathless,
without delay or doubt on dashed the heroes. Still the enemy was between
them and Thomas. They were compelled to go almost to Rossville. At last
General Garfield said: “We must try to cross now or never. In a half
hour it will be too late for us to do any good.” Turning sharply to
their right, they found themselves in a dark-tangled forest. They were
scratched and bleeding from the brier thickets and the overhanging
branches. But not a rider checked his horse. General Garfield’s horse
seemed to catch the spirit of the race. Over ravines and fences, through
an almost impenetrable undergrowth, sometimes through a marsh, and then
over broken rocks, the smoking steed plunged without a quiver.
Suddenly they came upon a cabin, a Confederate pest-house. A crowd of
unfortunates, in various stages of the small-pox, were sitting and lying
about the lonely and avoided place. The other riders spurred on their
way, but General Garfield reined in sharply, and, calling in a kind tone
to the strongest of the wrecks, asked, “Can I do any thing for you, my
poor fellow?” In an instant the man gasped out, “Do not come near. It is
small-pox. But for God’s sake give us money to buy food.” Quick as
thought the great-hearted chief of staff drew out his purse and tossed
it to the man, and with a rapid but cheerful “good-bye” spurred after
his companions. Crashing, tearing, plunging, rearing through the forest
dashed the steed. Poet’s song could not be long to celebrate that daring
deed.
Twice they stopped. They were on dangerous ground. At any moment they
might come upon the enemy. They were right on the ground for which
Longstreet’s column was headed. Which would get there first? A third
time they stopped. The roar of battle was very near. They were in the
greatest peril. Utterly ignorant of the course of events, since he had
been driven from Widow Glenn’s, General Garfield did not know but what
the rebel column had passed completely to Thomas’s rear and lay directly
in front of them. They changed their course slightly to the left. Of his
own danger Garfield never thought. The great fear in his mind was that
he would fail to reach Thomas, with the order to take command of all the
forces, and with the previous information of the necessity of a change
of front. At last they reached a cotton field. If the enemy was near, it
was almost certain death. Suddenly a rifle-ball whizzed past Garfield’s
face. Turning in his saddle he saw the fence on the right glittering
with murderous rifles. A second later a shower of balls rattled around
the little party. Garfield shouted, “Scatter, gentlemen, scatter,” and
wheeled abruptly to the left. Along that side of the field was a ridge.
If it could be reached, they were safe. The two orderlies never reached
it. Captain Gano’s horse was shot through the lungs, and his own leg
broken by the fall. Garfield was now the single target for the enemy.
His own horse received two balls, but the noble animal kept straight on
at its terrific speed. General Garfield speaking of it afterwards said
that his thought was divided between poor Thomas and his young wife and
child in the little home at Hiram. With a few more leaps he gained the
ridge, unhurt. Captain Gano painfully crawling on the ground finally
gained the ridge himself.
General Thomas was still a mile away. In ten minutes Garfield was at his
side, hurriedly explaining the catastrophe at noon. They stood on a
knoll overlooking the field of battle. The horse which had borne
Garfield on his memorable ride, dropped dead at his feet while the chief
of staff told Thomas the situation. There was no time to be lost.
Hurrying down to his right, General Thomas found that a considerable
portion of the center had swung around like a door to oppose
Longstreet’s advance. For an hour or more his columns had flung
themselves with desperate fury on this line so unexpectedly opposed to
them. Hour after hour these lines had held him at bay. The slaughter was
terrible. But this could not last. There was no uniform plan in this
accidental battle front. There were great chasms in it. The Confederate
forces were diverging to their left toward the Dry Valley road, and
would soon flank this line. But Thomas was a great commander. Without a
moment’s delay his line of battle was withdrawn to a ridge in the form
of a horse-shoe. The main front was now at right angles with that of the
morning; that is, it lay across the Rossville road instead of parallel
with it. Thomas’s troops were now arranged in a three-quarter circle.
They scarcely numbered twenty-five thousand. Around this circle, as
around a little island, like an ocean of fire, raged a Confederate army
of sixty thousand troops. Overwhelmed by numbers, General Thomas still
held the horse-shoe ridge, through which lay the Rossville road. The
storm of battle raged with fearful power. The line of heroes seemed
again and again about to be swallowed up in the encircling fire. Again
and again Longstreet’s troops charged with unexampled impetuosity, and
as many times were beaten back bruised and bleeding. The crisis of the
battle at half past four in the afternoon, when Longstreet hurled
forward his magnificent reserve corps, is said to have rivaled, in
tragic importance and far-reaching consequences, the supreme moment in
the battle of Gettysburg, when Pickett’s ten thousand Virginians, in
solid column, charged upon Cemetery Ridge.
But all the valor and all the fury was in vain. “George A. Thomas,” in
the words of Garfield, “was indeed the ‘rock of Chickamauga,’ against
which the wild waves of battle dashed in vain.”
General Garfield, from the moment of his arrival, had plunged into the
thickest of the fray. When at last the thinned and shattered lines of
gray withdrew, leaving thousands of their dead upon the bloody field,
smoked and powder-grimed, he was personally managing a battery of which
the chief gunners had been killed at their post. Towards the close of
the fight Thomas’s ammunition ran very low. His ammunition trains had
become involved with the rout of the right, and were miles in the rear
at Rossville. This want of ammunition created more fear than the
assaults of the enemy. The last charge was repelled at portions of the
line with the bayonet alone.
But the hard-earned victory was won. The Rossville road was still held.
The masterly skill and coolness of Thomas, when General Garfield reached
him with information as to the rest of the army, which, it must be
remembered, was never visible through the dense forests and jagged
ridges of the valley, had saved the Army of the Cumberland from
destruction. After night the exhausted men withdrew to Rossville and
subsequently to Chattanooga.
A great battle is a memorable experience to one who takes part. There is
nothing like it on earth. Henceforth the participant is different from
other men. All his preceding life becomes small and forgotten after such
days as those of Chickamauga. From that day he feels that he began to
live. When the flames of frenzy with which he was possessed subside,
they have left their mark on his being. Ordinarily the flames of battle
have burnt out many sympathies. His nature stands like a forest of
charred and blackened trunks, once green and beautiful, waving in their
leafy splendor, but through which the destroying tempest of fire has
passed in its mad career of vengeance. He can neither forget nor forgive
the murderous foe. Before the battle he might have exchanged tobacco
plugs with the man with whom he would have, with equal readiness,
exchanged shots. But after the carnage of the battle, after the day of
blood and fury, all this is passed. The last gun is fired on the field
of battle. The last shattered line of heroes withdraws into the night.
The earth has received its last baptism of blood for the time-being.
Only burial parties, with white flags, may be seen picking their way
among the fallen brave. The actual battle is over forever. Not so is it
with the combatant. In his mind the battle goes on and on. He is
perpetually training masked batteries on the foe. The roar of conflict
never ceases to reverberate in his brain. Throughout his life, whenever
recalled to the subject of the war, his mental attitude is that of the
battle-field. In his thought the columns are still charging up the hill.
The earth still shakes with an artillery that is never silenced. The air
is still sulphurous with gunpowder smoke. The ranks of the brave and
true still fall around him. Forever is he mentally loading and firing;
forever charging bayonets across the bloody field; forever burying the
fallen heroes under the protection of the flag of truce.
This is the law of ordinary minds. The red panorama of the Gettysburg
and the Chickamauga is forever moving before his eyes. The wrench or
strain given to his mental being by those days is too terrific, too
awful, for any reaction in the average mind. This fact has been
abundantly proven in the history of the last twenty years. Chickamauga
thus became a new birth to many a soldier. His life, henceforward,
seemed to date from the 19th of September, 1863. His life was ever
afterward marked off by anniversaries of that day. It is found that many
soldiers die on the anniversary of some great battle in which they were
participants. Such is the influence mental states bear upon the physical
organism.
Chickamauga was all this to General Garfield. It was more than this to
him. He was not merely a participant in the battle of bullets. He was
also in the battle of brains. The field soldier certainly feels enough
anxiety. His mental experience has enough of torture to gratify the
monarch of hell himself. But the anxieties of the man at head-quarters
are unspeakable. He sees not merely the actual horrors and the
individual danger. He carries on his heart the responsibility for an
army. He is responsible for the thousands of lives. A single mistake, a
single blunder, a single defective plan, will forever desolate
unnumbered firesides. More than this he feels. Not only the fate of the
army, but the fate of the country rests in his hand. The burden is
crushing. It may be said this is only upon the Commander-in-chief. But
General Garfield, as chief of staff, we have seen, was no figure-head,
no amanuensis. He took the responsibilities of that campaign and battle
to his own heart. At every step his genius grappled with the situation.
Rosecrans was a good soldier; but in nothing was his ability so
exhibited as in selecting Garfield for his confidential adviser and
trusting so fully to his genius.
[Illustration: DIAGRAM OF THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.]
Thus the battle of Chickamauga entered into Garfield’s mental experience
in its greatest aspects. His profoundly sympathetic nature was subjected
to an incalculable strain. The struggle of the first day, the beginning
of the second, the fatal order, the appalling catastrophe, the fearful
ride, the invincible courage of Thomas, the costly victory, all these
things were incorporated into his life. He lived years in a single hour.
He was only _thirty-one years old_. It was only nine years since the
boys at Williams College had laughed at him as a green-horn; only seven
years since he had graduated. But the education of Chickamauga gave him
age. The maturity of the mind is not measured by time, but by
experience. Previous to the Chattanooga campaign, General Garfield was a
clever man. After the battle of Chickamauga he was a great man.
Of the general results of the battle, we quote from Van Horn’s
magnificent but critical _History of the Army of the Cumberland_:
“Whatever were the immediate and more local consequences of the battle,
in its remote relations and significance, it has claims to historic
grandeur. The Army of the Cumberland, without support on either flank,
had leaped across the Tennessee River and the contiguous mountains, and
yet escaped destruction, though the armies of the enemy, east and west,
were made tributary to a combination of forces to accomplish this end.
Paroled prisoners from Vicksburg, regular troops from Mississippi and
Georgia, a veteran corps from Lee’s army in Virginia, and Buckner’s
corps from East Tennessee, joined Bragg on the banks of the Chickamauga,
not simply to retake Chattanooga, but to annihilate the Army of the
Cumberland. Nearly half of Bragg’s army consisted of recent
reinforcements, sent to Northern Georgia _while the authorities at
Washington, perplexed with the military situation, were resting under
the delusion that General Bragg was reinforcing Lee_. But this heavy
draft upon the resources of the Confederacy was burdened with the
fatality which clung to all the grander efforts of the insurgents in the
west. And General Bragg’s broken and exhausted army was a symbol of the
fast-coming exhaustion of the Confederacy itself. The issue of the
battle was not thus defined to the consciousness of the Southern people,
but was, doubtless, one of the most emphatic disappointments of the
struggle, and intensified the gloom produced by previous defeats.”
In his report of the battle to the Department of War, General Rosecrans
said:
“To Brigadier-General James A. Garfield, chief of staff, I am
especially indebted for the clear and ready manner in which he
seized the points of action and movement, and expressed in orders
the ideas of the general commanding.”
In relating the history of General Garfield’s military career, no
mention has been made of a fact which was destined to affect his future.
In the fall of 1862, he had been nominated and elected to Congress from
his own district. The thing had been accomplished in his absence, and
almost without his knowledge. His term did not begin till December,
1863, and his constituents supposed the war would be over before that
time. Garfield himself looked at the thing with indifference. It did not
interfere with his service in the army, could not do so for a long time,
and there was nothing to hurry his decision in the matter. After the
Tullahoma campaign, in the summer of 1863, when he had had a taste of
successful military strategy, the Congressional question began to force
itself to the surface of his thought. There was no prospect of peace.
All his inclinations persuaded him to remain in the army. But Congress
met in December, and he would have to decide.
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.”
This, for the time being, settled the matter. With the understanding
that his rank would be restored if he desired to return to the army,
General Garfield reluctantly resigned his new major-generalship, a
position whose salary was double that of a Congressman, in order to
enter on the following day the House of Representatives.
The greatest men seem often to have been those who were suddenly lifted
out of the career of life which they had chosen, and to which they
seemed to be preëminently adapted, and forced, as it were, by the
exigencies of the times, into a new channel. Julius Cæsar, whose lofty
character, unapproachable genius, and sorrowful death, are hardly
equalled in the annals of any age or country, had chosen for himself the
career of a civil and religious officer of state. His chosen field was
in the stately sessions of the Roman Senate, or before the turbulent
multitudes of the forum. It was said of him by his enemies, that in
speaking he excelled those who practiced no other art. It was said that,
had he continued in his chosen career, he would have outshone, in his
eloquence, every orator whose name and fame has been transmitted by Rome
to later generations. But from this career he was unexpectedly taken.
The dangers to the state from the Gallic tribes, and the restless Roman
appetite for conquest, required a military leader. Almost by accident
Cæsar was drawn away from the senate and the forum to take up the
profession of arms.
Unlike the great Roman, Garfield, under the stress of public necessity,
was almost by accident withdrawn from the career of arms, in which it
may be truly said of him that he, too, excelled those who practiced no
other art, to enter upon the career of a legislator. Cæsar exchanged the
assembly for the camp, while the great American left the camp for the
assembly. Each did so at the call of the state, and each was to become,
in his new field, the master spirit of his generation.
CHAPTER VI.
IN THE ASCENDANT.
In the New World man climbs the rugged steep
And takes the forefront by the force of will
And daring purpose in him.
On the 5th of December, 1863, General Garfield took his seat in the
Thirty-Eighth Congress. The reader who has gone over the preceding
chapter will know in part what brought him there, and will be prepared
to judge what was expected of him. But in order clearly to understand
what actually was to be looked for from this Congressional neophyte, it
will be of advantage to consider _who_ sent Garfield to the House.
Congressmen generally represent their districts; and a people may not
unfairly be judged by their average representation in Congress.
What kind of a constituency, then, was that which, for nine times the
space that measures the term of a Congressman, and an equal number of
times the space that measures the political life of many a Congressman,
kept James A. Garfield in that place without a moment’s intermission? We
would probably make no mistake if we should describe them from our
knowledge of him. But let us take the mathematician’s method and verify
our conclusion by a reverse process.
Twelve counties in the north-eastern corner of the State of Ohio are
popularly grouped together and called the Western Reserve. They are the
very Canaan of that great commonwealth; or, at least, come so near it
that they can be described as a land flowing with wine and milk,—for
grape culture is one of their important industries, and their dairies
are famous. Of the nearly twenty-five million pounds of cheese annually
produced in Ohio, ninety-five per cent. is made in the Western Reserve.
The Greeks had a story that their god Jupiter, when an infant, was
tumbled down from the heavens to a secluded place on earth, where he was
carefully watched while he grew. It shall be our easy task to show that
the Western Reserve is a good place for a public man to grow in and make
preparation to rule in a higher sphere.
The Reserve is a place of great natural resources, and, under almost any
conditions, would have a well-to-do population. But it is not advantages
of this kind which make it an unusually good place for the growth of a
great man. If we should presume to say so, all the facts of history
would rise to protest its falsity. The arts and literature and eloquence
and political glory of Athens and her sister states clung close to
barren hillsides. Switzerland rose to be the first free state of Europe
among the wild fastnesses of her unfertile mountains. The American
Revolution was fought out and the Union established by the finest
generation of statesmen and warriors ever produced on the continent,
before the extent or the wealth of our broad, level empire was dreamed
of. New England and Virginia were not rich; but they were great, and
they were free, and so were their statesmen in those days.
The Western Reserve was largely settled by people of New England. And,
since it is not the character of the soil, but the composition of the
people, which chiefly influences the man who grows there, it will be
profitable to see of what sort these settlers and their descendants
were.
One of the first things the first settlers of the Western Reserve did
was to build a church. They brought the plan of their altars with them.
Religion was the corner-stone of their new civilization. Religion was
the solid rock on which they built a high morality and an earnest
intelligence. Somehow or other they rested calmly on a God who made the
forest his temple, and walked through it with them to the very end of
the earth. They have their religion with them to this day, and it seems
to round out their lives to a fuller completeness, and gives them
solidity of character, and with its divinely sanctioned maxims creates
such a standard of morality as a good man would aspire to to make his
rule of life. This kind of community is a good place in which to grow a
public man, if you want him to hold fast to principle unchangeably at
all times.
The very next thing after a church, when this district was settled, came
the common school. The race of which the settlers came was brainy. Their
families always had more than a thimbleful of sense apiece. Hence the
demand for education, and, therefore, a school-house and a
school-teacher. These schools have grown and multiplied. The Reserve has
not only common-schools, but colleges, which are already first-class,
and are destined to become famous seats of learning. The nation itself
has come to recognize in the people of the Reserve a higher average of
intelligence than exists anywhere in the Union, except in a very few
sections. Here is a very good place to seek for a public man who shall
have the kind of intellect to grapple with great questions of
statesmanship, and master them.
The Reserve was first peopled by a set of men who were not only
religious, moral, and intelligent; but who possessed in themselves two
requisites of a great people—courage and strength. Their own ancestors
had braved untold dangers in coming to the American shores, and had
endured hardships and privations innumerable to gain a footing on the
rocky coast. Upborne by the tradition of these experiences, the
pilgrimage and the work of founding a new State had been gone over by
them again. They were a race who sailed unknown seas, climbed unexplored
mountains to get into a new country, and cut down a primeval forest.
Their descendants would be neither pigmies nor poltroons. This would
certainly be a fine place for the production of a statesman who would
have the courage to stand by his convictions and the power to
successfully push his measures through.
The political institutions and political habits of this people deserve
consideration. They brought their ideas of how to construct and conduct
a State from New England, where the town is a political unit, and the
town-meeting a great event. So, from the very earliest time, the Reserve
has been a region where every body was personally interested in public
affairs. They put a man in office because they thought, on actual
investigation, that he was equal to its duties. And, more than that,
they held their appointees to strict account. The unfortunate man who
proved incapable or dishonest never got their support again, and never
heard the last of their censures. These causes have made their political
history good reading. Its chapters are pure and strong and healthy.
The Nineteenth Congressional District of Ohio, at the time of Garfield’s
election, included six counties—Portage, Ashtabula, Lake, Geauga,
Trumbull, and Mahoning. They are the eastern half of the Western
Reserve. Before Garfield’s first election this district had been
represented for many years by Joshua R. Giddings, one of the ablest
antislavery leaders of the period just before the war.
In 1858, Giddings was displaced. Overconfidence in his hold on the
people had made him a little reckless, and an ambitious politician took
advantage of the opportunity. A flaw, very slight indeed, was searched
out in Giddings’s record. It was proved that his mileage fees were in
excess of what the shortest route to Washington required. He had made
the people pay his expenses to New York. The convention having been
skillfully worked up on this peccadillo of its old favorite, a Mr.
Hutchins was sent to Congress in his stead.
A little time only was required to display the difference between Mr.
Hutchins and his predecessor. Mr. Giddings was requested at the next
election to return. But that old patriot had been rewarded by the
Government with a consulate at Montreal, and preferred to remain there;
which he did until his death in 1864. In this situation the people of
the Nineteenth District began to search for a man who could represent
them according to their desire. They felt that it was due to themselves
and to the Nation that they send to Congress a leader; some man with
ability and force sufficient to deal with the great questions of the
day, and solve the problems of the war.
At such a time as this, all eyes turned to the brilliant young General,
James A. Garfield. His legislative abilities had been tested in the Ohio
legislature just before the war, and his record there was an assurance
of his fitness. He was a scholarly man; a forcible speaker; and one
whose experience in the field was not only honorable to himself, but
gave him a knowledge of military affairs which would be exceedingly
useful in the condition of national affairs at that time. The election
occurred in 1862, more than a year before the man elected could take his
place. The war, they supposed, would be over by that time, so that
Garfield’s service in the field would not be left incomplete. He was
himself a perfect illustration of his own saying, “Be fit for more than
the thing you are now doing.” And thus it happened that, without the
least expression of such a desire, General Garfield was sent to Congress
by the general and hearty wishes of his constituents.
Now into what kind of an arena was it that these people sent their
champion to stand for them? What was its composition, and what had been
its character in past times? In answering these questions, we are helped
by an article written by Garfield for the _Atlantic Monthly_ of July,
1877, wherein he says:
“The limits of this article will not allow me to notice the changes
in manners and methods in Congress since the administration of the
elder Adams. Such a review would bring before us many striking
characters and many stirring scenes.
“In the long line of those who have occupied seats in Congress, we
should see, here and there, rising above the undistinguished mass,
the figures of those great men whose lives and labors have made
their country illustrious, and whose influence upon its destiny will
be felt for ages to come. We should see that group of great
statesmen whom the last war with England brought to public notice,
among whom were Ames and Randolph, Clay and Webster, Calhoun and
Benton, Wright and Prentiss, making their era famous by their
statesmanship, and creating and destroying political parties by
their fierce antagonisms. We should see the folly and barbarism of
the so-called code of honor, destroying noblemen in the fatal meadow
of Bladensburgh. We should see the spirit of liberty awaking the
conscience of the nation to the sin and danger of slavery, whose
advocates had inherited and kept alive the old anarchic spirit of
disunion. We should trace the progress of that great struggle from
the days when John Quincy Adams stood in the House of
Representatives, like a lion at bay, defending the sacred right of
petition; when, after his death, Joshua R. Giddings continued the
good fight, standing at this post for twenty years, his white locks,
like the plume of Henry of Navarre, always showing where the battle
for freedom raged most fiercely; when his small band in Congress,
reinforced by Hale and Sumner, Wade and Chase, Lovejoy and Stevens,
continued the struggle amid the most turbulent scenes; when daggers
were brandished and pistols were drawn in the halls of Congress;
and, later, when, one by one, the senators and representatives of
eleven States, breathing defiance and uttering maledictions upon the
Union, resigned their seats and left the Capitol to take up arms
against their country. We should see the Congress of a people long
unused to war, when confronted by a supreme danger, raising,
equipping, and supporting an army greater than all the armies of
Napoleon and Wellington combined: meeting the most difficult
questions of international and constitutional law; and, by new forms
of taxation, raising a revenue which, in one year of the war,
amounted to more than all the national taxes collected during the
first half century of the Government.”
All this we should see, and more. And it was to help complete the
gigantic tasks of Congress during this momentous time that Garfield was
sent there. The House of Representatives contained many able men, but
most of these belonged to a closing period. They had grown up in
opposition, not in administration. A new group of men was now about to
take the lead, and reconstruct the Union on a foundation whose
corner-stone should be Union and Liberty, instead of Slavery and State
Rights. The old generation of leaders were still there with their wisdom
and valuable experience; but the spirit of a new era now came in, which
should outlive Thaddeus Stevens and his compeers. About this time there
came into Congress, Blaine and Boutwell and Conkling and—Garfield,
destined to do more than any of them in restoring prosperity, peace,
public justice, and, above all, a harmonious Union, which this age shall
not again see broken.
The usefulness of a legislator has in all times been popularly ascribed
to his work in the open assembly. But this was never wholly true, and in
no existing legislature in the world is it even half true at this day.
Public business of this sort is so vast and so complicated that no
assembly can give it all a fair consideration. To remedy this trouble we
have the committee system, whereby special study by a few informs the
many who rely upon their reports and merely pass upon their
recommendations.
A member of Congress can not be judged by the figure he presents on the
floor of the House. He may say nothing there, and yet be author of
important measures the mere public advocacy of which is making some
other man a national reputation. James A. Garfield was, from the first
of his Congressional career, a leader in debate; but the story would be
only half told if mention were omitted of the wonderful industry
displayed by him on the various great committees where his abilities
gave him place.
When the Thirty-Eighth Congress opened, the war was not yet ended—a fact
which many an utterer of unfulfilled prophecy and many a broken heart
deplored. The most important committee of all was still the Military
Committee. It was composed as follows: Robert C. Schenck, of Ohio; John
F. Farnsworth, of Illinois; George H. Yeaman, of Kentucky; James A.
Garfield, of Ohio; Benjamin Loan, of Missouri; Moses F. Odell, of New
York; Henry C. Deming, of Connecticut; F. W. Kellogg, of Michigan;
Archibald McAllister, of Pennsylvania.
Although Garfield’s name comes fourth here, he really was intended as
second by the Chairman. Mr. Schenck had requested Speaker Colfax to put
him on, under a belief that he would be an invaluable help to himself.
We have been several times required to notice a happy faculty which
Garfield had of inspiring the faith in himself of those with whom he
came in contact, by some striking act which showed them that he was not
an ordinary man. This was not intentional, but simply the spontaneous
shining forth of light which was in the man. Almost the first session of
the Committee on Military Affairs brought out just such an incident:
It had then been only a short time since the science of anæsthetics had
grown into some importance by the use of chloroform and ether. In the
hospitals of the army it was very common. As is usual with inventions
and discoveries, there was a struggle going on for the profit and honor
of the discovery. Dr. Morton, a dentist, and others, were petitioning
Congress, each as the discoverer of chloroform, for some kind of
appropriation or arrangement by which they might be rewarded for the
services they had done for our soldiers in thus alleviating their
sufferings. The petitions were referred to this committee. The members
all, except Garfield, declined to investigate it, on the ground that
they knew nothing about such an obscure topic. Garfield only observed
that he thought the claim remarkable. Not knowing what else to do, the
Chairman referred it to him, expecting not to hear of it again.
At the next meeting he had a scientific and thoroughly written report
ready, exhausting the whole subject. On request, the matter was
explained. Garfield had a way of supplementing his regular line of
studies by having always some unusual and out-of-the-way topic on hand
to amuse his leisure hours. Not long before this he had accidentally
come across a book on anæsthesia, and his investigations had made him
ready for the unforeseen report in committee. All knowledge is useful.
After this the committee was not afraid of strange topics. They were
given over to the man who knew anæsthesia, and then they considered the
subject settled. As one man said,—“Good Lord! what would he not know?”
General Garfield’s time was now devoted to public business. Every
subject likely to come before his committee was investigated through all
the avenues of information. He set himself a wide course of reading on
finance, on constitutional law, and a great group of kindred subjects.
These were studied in the Garfield way, which was to read all the
literature he could find on a topic, or that could in any way affect the
discussion thereof. It was this prodigious labor, matching his capacity
for keeping the run of what would have overwhelmed most men with
confusion, that made him at the same time a remarkably ready and a
wonderfully reliable man, either in committee or as a speaker on the
floor of the House.
General Garfield had not been in Congress two weeks before his
occasional brief statements began to attract attention. Of course it was
not till after a considerable period that he became a recognized leader;
but his force began to be felt very soon, and grew every day until, by
steady development of his abilities and his influence, he finally
reached the summit of power, as leader of his party in the Lower House
of Congress.
We have seen that he was not a politician in the popular meaning of the
word. He had been sent to Congress rather against than with his
inclinations, and was above posturing and plotting for reëlection. Even
after he had reluctantly given up his commission as Major-General in the
army, he was ready to return on call. In fact, he did once almost
determine on going back. General Thomas, having succeeded Rosecrans in
his command, wrote a private letter asking Garfield to accept the
command of a corps in his army. The offer was tempting, and duty seemed
to point the way. Mr. Lincoln, however, was having trouble to get his
measures through Congress, and needed support. On his statement that
Garfield would confer a personal favor by remaining where he was, the
change was not made.
This was not the kind of man to stultify himself for the sake of public
favor; and therefore it is not surprising to find his first speech on
record opposed to the whole House. It was on the “Bounty Question.” At
this time in the war, volunteering had become so rare a thing that new
measures had to be devised to keep up the ever-dwindling ranks of the
army. Two methods were advocated. One was to draft men forcibly, and put
them into the service; the other was to induce men to volunteer by
payment of a bonus for enlistment. Out of these two principles a hybrid
policy had been formed, resulting in the Conscription Act, of March 3,
1863. This act provided for a draft, but allowed a commutation in money,
which was fixed at three hundred dollars. In addition, thirteen
exceptions were allowed by which the draft could be escaped. To
compensate for these losses, three hundred dollars bounty money was
given to every raw recruit, and four hundred dollars to every reënlisted
veteran. The result of all which was a rapidly decreasing army. The
Government urged stronger measures; and it was before these measures had
been perfected that an incident occurred in which General Garfield first
indicated his opinions on the subject.
According to a law passed, the bounties above mentioned could be paid
only up to January 5, 1864. On January 6th, the Military Committee
reported a joint resolution to continue this limit over till March 1st.
Mr. Garfield did not approve of the resolution, although every man in
the House seemed against him. His reasons are given in the
_Congressional Globe_, wherein the following is reported:
MR. GARFIELD.—“Mr. Speaker, I regret that I was not able to meet
with the Military Committee when this resolution was under
consideration. I did not reach the city until a few hours before the
House met this morning; but if I understand the matter correctly
from the public journals, the request of the President and the War
Department was to continue the payment of bounties until the 1st of
February next; but the resolution before the House proposes to
extend the payment until the 1st of March. And while the President
asks us to continue the payment of bounties to veteran volunteers
only, the resolution extends it to all volunteers, whether veterans
or raw recruits. If the resolution prevails, it seems to me we shall
swamp the finances of the Government before the 1st of March
arrives. I can not consent to a measure which authorizes the
expenditure of so vast a sum as will be expended under this
resolution, unless it be shown absolutely indispensable to the work
of filling up the army. I am anxious that veterans should volunteer,
and that liberal bounties should be paid to them. But if we extend
the payment to all classes of volunteers for two months to come, I
fear we shall swamp the Government.
“Before I vote for this resolution, I desire to know whether the
Government is determined to abandon the draft. If it be its policy
to raise an army solely by volunteering and paying bounties, we have
one line of policy to pursue. If the conscription law is to be any
thing but a dead letter on the statute book, our line of policy is a
very different one. I ask the gentleman from Illinois to inform me
what course is to be adopted. I am sorry to see in this resolution
the indication of a timid and vacillating course. It is unworthy the
dignity of our Government and our army to use the conscription act
as a scarecrow, and the bounty system as a bait, to alternately
scare and coax men into the army.
“Let us give liberal bounties to veteran soldiers who may reënlist,
and for raw recruits use the draft.”
After some further discussion the vote was taken, resulting in yeas 112,
nays 2. Mr. Grinnell, of Iowa, made the second negative, changing his
vote after Garfield had voted.
Soon afterwards a letter came to General Garfield, signed by twenty of
his constituents, censuring his action, and demanding his resignation.
They were only answered that he held their letter, and that within a
year they would all agree with what he had done. Before the year closed,
there was a cross opposite each man’s name, denoting the fulfillment of
the General’s prophecy.
This action also attracted the admiring attention of Salmon P. Chase,
who soon afterward congratulated him, but at the same time coupled his
praises with a good piece of advice. Mr. Chase liked to see a man
exhibit great firmness, but warned his young friend that such antagonism
to his party would better be indulged sparingly. It would seem that the
advice was unnecessary to Garfield, however, as he was not a factious
man. He simply had the courage of his convictions. On this point we find
that Garfield never fails to meet our expectations, no matter what the
opposition:
“But, like a rock unmoved, a rock that braves
The raging tempest and the rising waves,
Propp’d on himself, he stands.”
Legislation on the enrollment of soldiers was yet to come, which should
be more severe than any we had known. The system of bounties proved a
failure. We had attempted coercion on the States, and the only way to
succeed was by further coercion of our own citizens. It was a hard thing
to come to, and the people were unwilling. Congressmen were afraid of
the coming fall election of 1864. Finally, early in June, Mr. Lincoln
sought an interview with the Military Committee. He told them that the
army had in it only three-quarters of a million men; three hundred and
eighty thousand were within a few months of the end of their term of
service. These places _must_ be filled, and a law framed for the purpose
at once. The committee expressed its opinion of the political danger:
“Mr. Lincoln, such a law will defeat you for President.” Then a light
shone out from that great homely countenance, the tall form was drawn
grandly to its full height, as the answer was given. Mr. Lincoln said
that his business was to put down the Rebellion, no matter what the
danger. Grant and Sherman were on the verge of victory; their strength
must be kept up, and the struggle ended quickly.
Accordingly, a bill was prepared after the President’s own plan. Many of
the draft exemptions of the existing law were taken away by it;
commutation-money was no longer to be received, and every possible
facility was to be afforded for compelling men to enlist. But peace
Democrats, united with cowardly Congressmen of the Republican party,
together voted out the most effective clauses of the new bill.
This would never do. The friends of the bill reconstructed it, and
determined to put it through. On the 21st of June, the effort was made.
General Garfield was, perhaps, more intensely wrought up on the subject,
than any man except Lincoln; and he made a great speech, a speech
replete with learning, logic, and eloquence. This bill was the result of
conditions in national affairs which he had long foreseen; he had
prophesied, at the time of his vote against extending bounties, that the
end of such extension would be ruin to the Union cause. That ruin was
now impending, and all his energies were bent toward averting the evil.
Hear this closing appeal:
“I ask gentlemen who oppose this repeal, why they desire to make it
easy for citizens to escape from military duty? Is it a great
hardship to serve one’s country? Is it a disgraceful service? Will
you, by your action here, say to the soldiers in the field, ‘This is
a disreputable business; you have been deceived; you have been
caught in a trap, and we will make no law to put any body else in
it’? Do you thus treat your soldiers in the field? They are proud of
their voluntary service, and if there be one wish of the army
paramount to all others, one message more earnest than all the
others which they send back to you, it is that you will aid in
filling up their battle-thinned ranks by a draft which will compel
lukewarm citizens who prate against the war to go into the field.
They ask that you will not expend large bounties in paying men of
third-rate patriotism, while they went with no other bounty than
their love of country, to which they gave their young lives a free
offering, but that you will compel these eleventh-hour men to take
their chances in the field beside them. Let us grant their request,
and, by a steady and persistent effort, we shall, in the end, be it
near or remote, be it in one year or ten, crown the nation with
victory and enduring peace.”
In the sequel, this bill passed; a grand reinforcement of five hundred
thousand men soon secured the supremacy of the Union, and Father Abraham
was thus enabled to finish his immortal work.
Early in the first session of the Thirty-Eighth Congress, the subject of
confiscation was pretty thoroughly discussed. House Resolution No. 18
was offered, so amending a resolution of the preceding Congress that no
punishment or proceeding under it should be so construed as to make a
forfeiture of the estate of the offender, except during his life. Out of
this little motion there grew a great crop of controversy, and among
others, General Garfield took part. His main speech, the first lengthy
address he ever made in Congress, was delivered on January 28, 1864. Mr.
Finck, of Ohio, had just sat down at the close of a long set speech,
when Garfield arose and began in these words:
“Mr. Speaker, I had not intended to ask the attention of the House
or to occupy its time on this question of confiscation at all, but
some things have been said, touching its military aspects, which
make it proper for me to trespass upon the patience of the House.
Feeling that, in some small degree, I represent on this floor the
Army of the Republic, I am the more emboldened to speak to this
subject before us.
“I have been surprised that in so lengthy and able a discussion, so
little reference has been made to the merits of the resolution
itself. In the wide range of discussion, the various theories of the
legal and political status of the rebellious States have been
examined. It is, perhaps, necessary that we take ground upon that
question, as preliminary to the discussion of the resolution itself.
Two theories, widely differing from each other, have been proposed;
but I can not consider either of them as wholly correct. I can not
agree with the distinguished gentleman from Pennsylvania (Mr.
Stevens,) who acknowledges that these States are out of the Union,
and now constitute a foreign people; nor can I, on the other hand,
agree with those who believe that the insurgent States are not only
in the Union, but have lost none of their rights under the
Constitution and laws of the Union.
“When the Government of the United States declared that we were in a
state of war, the rebel States came under the laws of war. By their
acts of rebellion and war, they had swept away every vestige of
their civil and political rights under the Constitution of the
United States. Their obligations still remained; but the reciprocal
rights, which usually accompany obligations, they had forfeited.
“The question then lies open before us: In a state of war, under the
laws of war, is this resolution legal and politic? I insist, Mr.
Speaker, that the question involved in the resolution before this
House, is whether this Government, in its exercise of its rights of
a belligerent under the laws of war, can not punish these rebels and
confiscate their estates, both personal and real, for life and
forever. That is the only question before us.
“I conclude by returning once more to the resolution before us. Let
no weak sentiments of misplaced sympathy deter us from inaugurating
a measure, which will cleanse our nation and make it the fit home of
freedom and glorious manhood. Let us not despise the severe wisdom
of our revolutionary fathers when they served their generation in a
similar way. Let the Republic drive from its soil the traitors that
have conspired against its life, as God and His angels drove Satan
and his host from heaven. He was not too merciful to be just, and to
hurl down in chains and everlasting darkness the ‘traitor angel’ who
rebelled against Him.”
In these clear words we may find already a development of that
independent, yet always moderate way of regarding things which no reader
of Garfield’s great speeches of later date can fail to notice. While
other men wasted time in reasoning on the words of the Constitution, and
their effect on the status of the Southern States, this incisive
intellect cut right through all extremes, and from a plain view of the
facts, he said that the South was not out of the Union; and although it
was in the Union, it _did not_ have “the reciprocal rights which usually
accompany obligations.” And this was statesmanship.
In March, 1864, the Committee on Military Affairs reported a bill “to
declare certain roads military roads, and post roads, and to regulate
commerce.” Its principal object, as far as the Government was concerned,
was to enlarge its facilities of communication between Washington,
Philadelphia, and New York. The only existing postal route between the
commercial Capital and the political Capital, was by the Camden and
Amboy Railroad. This bill was presented on petition of the Raritan and
Delaware Bay Railroad Company, asking that it be given similar rights to
those held by the Camden and Amboy; which latter road of course used all
its influence to defeat the measure. Both the power and the duty of
Congress to pass the bill were violently assailed and denied.
Mr. Garfield favored its passage, and made a speech on the subject which
ran through parts of two days, March 24 and 31. This address was very
powerful, and was called by some members “the speech of the session.”
The main question, as raised by the friends of that road themselves, was
whether Congress could rightfully interfere with a State railroad
monopoly which did not confine its operations within the limits of that
State. The Governor of New Jersey had issued a proclamation referring to
this matter, and speaking of his State as “sovereign.” These were but
the first mutterings of a great storm which was to follow. Their
significance was recognized.
It was to these points that Mr. Garfield addressed himself. The Camden
and Amboy Company he named as a sweeping and complete monopoly, made so
by the State of New Jersey. The State’s right to create corporations was
undoubted. But it could have no sovereignty sufficient to destroy the
power of the United States, and especially so outside of the State
limits. Equal rights with this monopoly should be given to the Raritan
and Delaware Bay Company at any time on petition, and certainly now when
the facilities for transportation were not equal to the needs of the
Government.
Surely the Government, at such a time as this, had paramount authority
to provide for its own necessities.
On the 8th of April, 1864, the House of Representatives resolved itself
into the Committee of the Whole upon the State of the Union, whereupon
Mr. Alexander Long, of Cincinnati, Ohio, took the floor, and, in a
speech of much bitterness, arraigned the administration, not for its
conduct of the war, but for carrying on the war at all. “_An
unconstitutional war can only be carried on in an unconstitutional
manner_,” said Mr. Long. His demand now was for peace. This was the
first sound of Democratic preparation for the Presidential election, the
key-note of their campaign.
Mr. Long said:
“Mr. Chairman, I speak to-day for the preservation of the
Government. In the independence of a representative of the people I
intend to proclaim the deliberate convictions of my judgment in this
fearful hour of the country’s peril.
“The brief period of three short years has produced a fearful change
in this free, happy, and prosperous government,—so pure in its
restrainments upon personal liberty, and so gentle in its demands
upon the resources of the people, that the celebrated Humboldt,
after traveling through the country, on his return to Europe said,
‘The American people have a government which you neither see nor
feel.’ So different is it now, and so great the change, that the
inquiry might well be made to-day, ‘Are we not in Constantinople, in
St. Petersburg, in Vienna, in Rome, or in Paris?’ Military governors
and their provost marshals override the laws, and the echo of the
armed heel rings forth as clearly now in America as in France or
Austria; and the President sits to-day guarded by armed soldiers at
every approach leading to the Executive Mansion. So far from
crushing the rebellion, three years have passed away, and from the
day on which the conflict began, up to the present hour, the
Confederate army has not been forced beyond the sound of their guns
from the dome of the Capitol in which we are assembled.”
The remainder of the speech continued in the same spirit. The war could
not be put down. Moreover, it was wrong and ought not to be put down:
“Can the Union he restored by war? I answer most unhesitatingly and
deliberately: No, never. _War is final and eternal separation._ My
first and highest ground against its further prosecution is, _that
it is wrong_. It is a violation of the Constitution and of the
fundamental principles on which this Union was founded. My second
objection is, that as a policy, it is not _reconstructive_, but
_destructive_, and will, if continued, result speedily in the
destruction of the Government and the loss of civil liberty, to both
the North and the South, and it ought therefore to immediately
cease....”
These were the sentiments of a Democratic politician in Congress; they
would be scattered broadcast over the whole land. Some of the arguments
were specious; they would be echoed from a thousand platforms during the
summer. It was incumbent on the opposition to furnish a speedy and
strong reply. When Mr. Long took his seat, Mr. Garfield arose and said:
“Mr. Chairman: I should be obliged to you if you would direct the
sergeant-at-arms to bring a white flag and plant it in the aisle
between myself and my colleague who has just addressed you.
“I recollect on one occasion when two great armies stood face to
face, that under a white flag just planted, I approached a company
of men dressed in the uniform of the rebel Confederacy, and reached
out my hand to one of the number, and told him I respected him as a
brave man. Though he wore the emblems of disloyalty and treason,
still, underneath his vestments I beheld a brave and honest soul.
“I would produce that scene here this afternoon. I say, _were_ there
such a flag of truce—but God forbid me if I should do it under any
other circumstances—I would reach out this right hand and ask that
gentleman to take it; because I honor his bravery and his honesty. I
believe what has just fallen from his lips are the honest sentiments
of his heart, and in uttering it he has made a new epoch in the
history of this war; he has done a new thing under the sun; he has
done a brave thing. It is braver than to face cannon and musketry,
and I honor him for his candor and frankness.
“But now, I ask you to take away the flag of truce; and I will go
back inside the Union lines and speak of what he has done. I am
reminded by it of a distinguished character in _Paradise Lost_. When
he had rebelled against the glory of God, and ‘led away a third part
of heaven’s sons, conjured against the Highest;’ when, after
terrible battles in which mountains and hills were hurled down ‘nine
times the space that measures day and night,’ and after the terrible
fall lay stretched prone on the burning lake,—Satan lifted up his
shattered bulk, crossed the abyss, looked down into Paradise, and,
soliloquizing, said:
‘Which way I fly is hell, myself am hell;’
it seems to me in that utterance he expressed the very sentiments to
which you have just listened; uttered by one not less brave, malign,
and fallen. This man gathers up the meaning of this great contest,
the philosophy of the moment, the prophecies of the hour, and, in
sight of the paradise of victory and peace, utters them all in this
wail of terrible despair, ‘Which way I fly is hell.’ He ought to
add, ‘Myself am hell.’
“For the first time in the history of this contest, it is proposed
in this hall to give up the struggle, to abandon the war, and let
treason run riot through the land! I will, if I can, dismiss feeling
from my heart and try to consider only what bears upon the logic of
the speech to which we have just listened.
“First of all, the gentleman tells us that the right of secession is
a constitutional right. I do not propose to enter into the argument.
I have hitherto expressed myself on State sovereignty and State
rights, of which this proposition of his is the legitimate child.
“But the gentleman takes higher ground—and in that I agree with him,
namely, that five million or eight million people possess the right
of revolution. Grant it; we agree there. If fifty-nine men can make
a revolution successful, they have the right of revolution. If one
State wishes to break its connection with the Federal Government,
and does it by force, maintaining itself, it is an independent
State. If the eleven Southern States are resolved and determined to
leave the Union, to secede, to revolutionize, and can maintain that
revolution by force, they have revolutionary right to do so. I stand
on that platform with the gentleman.
“And now the question comes, is it our constitutional duty to let
them do it? That is the question. And, in order to reach it, I beg
to call your attention, not to argument, but to the condition of
affairs that would result from such action—the mere statement of
which becomes the strongest possible argument. What does this
gentleman propose? Where will he draw the line of division? If the
rebels carry into secession what they desire to carry; if their
revolution envelops as many States as they intend it shall envelop;
if they draw the line where Isham G. Harris, the rebel governor of
Tennessee, in the rebel camp near our lines, told Mr. Vallandigham
they would draw it,—along the line of the Ohio and Potomac,—if they
make good their statement to him, that they will never consent to
any other line, then I ask, what is the thing the gentleman proposes
to do?
“He proposes to leave to the United States a territory reaching from
the Atlantic to the Pacific, and one hundred miles wide in the
center! From Wellsville on the Ohio to Cleveland on the lakes, is
one hundred miles. I ask you, Mr. Chairman, if there be a man here
so insane as to suppose that the American people will allow their
magnificent national proportions to be shorn to so deformed a shape
as this?
“Suppose the policy of the gentleman were adopted to-day. Let the
order go forth; sound the ‘recall’ on your bugles, and let it ring
from Texas to the far Atlantic, and tell the armies to come back.
Call the victorious legions back over the battle-field of blood
forever now disgraced. Call them back over the territory which they
have conquered. Call them back, and let the minions of secession
chase them with derision and jeers as they come. And then tell them
that the man across the aisle, from the free State of Ohio, gave
birth to the monstrous proposition.
“Mr. Chairman, if such a word should be sent forth through the
armies of the Union, the wave of terrible vengeance that would sweep
back over this land could never find a parallel in the records of
history. Almost in the moment of final victory, the ‘recall’ is
sounded by a craven people not desiring freedom. We ought, every
man, to be made a slave should we sanction such a sentiment.
“The gentleman has told us there is no such thing as coercion
justifiable under the Constitution. I ask him for one moment to
reflect, that no statute ever was enforced without coercion. It is
the basis of every law in the universe,—God’s law as well as man’s.
A law is no law without coercion behind it. When a man has murdered
his brother, coercion takes the murderer, tries him, and hangs him.
When you levy your taxes, coercion secures their collection; it
follows the shadow of the thief and brings him to justice; it
accompanies your diplomacy to foreign courts, and backs a
declaration of the nation’s right by a pledge of the nation’s power.
Again, he tells us that oaths taken under the amnesty proclamation
are good for nothing. The oath of Galileo was not binding upon him.
I am reminded of another oath that was taken; but perhaps it was an
oath on the lips alone to which the heart made no response.
“I remember to have stood in a line of nineteen men on that carpet
yonder on the first day of the session, and I remember that another
oath was passed round and each member signed it as provided by law,
utterly repudiating the rebellion and its pretenses. Does that
gentleman not blush to speak of Galileo’s oath? Was not his own its
counterpart?
“He says that the Union can never be restored because of the
terrible hatred engendered by the war. To prove it, he quotes what
some Southern man said a few years ago, that he knew no hatred
between people in the world like that between the North and the
South. And yet that North and South have been one nation for
eighty-eight years!
“Have we seen in this contest any thing more bitter than the wars of
the Scottish border? Have we seen any thing more bitter than those
terrible feuds in the days of Edward, when England and Scotland were
the deadliest foes on earth? And yet for centuries those countries
have been cemented in an indissoluble union that has made the
British nation one of the proudest of the earth!
“I said a little while ago that I accepted the proposition of the
gentleman that rebels had a right of revolution; and the decisive
issue between us and the rebellion is, whether they shall
revolutionize and destroy, or we shall subdue and preserve. We take
the latter ground. We take the common weapons of war to meet them;
and if these be not sufficient, I would take any element which will
overwhelm and destroy; I would sacrifice the dearest and best
beloved; I would take all the old sanctions of law and the
Constitution and fling them to the winds, if necessary, rather than
let the nation be broken in pieces and its people destroyed with
endless ruin.
“What is the Constitution that these gentlemen are perpetually
flinging in our faces whenever we desire to strike hard blows
against the rebellion? It is the production of the American people.
They made it; and the creator is mightier than the creature. The
power which made the Constitution can also make other instruments to
do its great work in the day of dire necessity.”
The Presidential campaign of 1864 involved, in its tremendous issues,
the fate of a Republic. All the forces which had ever antagonized the
war for the Union were arrayed on the one side; those which demanded
that the war be vigorously pursued until rebellion was forever put down,
withstood them on the other side. It was a hand-to-hand struggle.
Garfield took the stump and ably advocated the Republican cause. He
traveled nearly eight thousand miles, and made sixty-five speeches. Late
in the season his constituents met to nominate a Congressman. Garfield
was very popular in the district, which had been pleased with his
ability and the patriotic spirit of his conduct.
But, after the adjournment of Congress, an incident occurred which
caused trouble in the Republican ranks, and seemed likely to drive him
out of the field. The subject of the readmission of conquered Southern
States to the full enjoyment of their political rights, had occupied the
attention of the Thirty-Eighth Congress; and that body, on the day of
its adjournment, had passed and sent for the President’s approval, a
bill providing for the government of such States. Mr. Lincoln had let
the bill go over unsigned till after adjournment; and soon issued a
proclamation referring to the subject, which offended many of the
friends of the bill. Among these were Ben. Wade and Winter Davis, who
issued to the public a reply to Mr. Lincoln, censuring him in very
severe language. The President was therein charged with favoring a
policy subversive of human liberty, unjust to the friends of the
administration, and dangerous to the Republic. This Wade-Davis manifesto
caused a great furore of excitement. Wade and Davis were denounced; the
people would hear nothing against Mr. Lincoln.
When the convention met at Warren, Mr. Garfield was sent for. He had
been charged by some with the authorship of the Wade-Davis paper, and by
many with holding to its views. When he appeared before them, the
chairman stated to him the charge, with a strong intimation that if he
cared for a renomination he must declare war against all disagreement
with the President’s policy.
Then the young general and statesman arose, and stepped forward to face
the assembly. They listened to hear their former hero explain away the
terrible opinion attributed to him, and, like the fawning politician he
was not, trim his sails according to the popular pleasure.
Mr. Garfield said that he was not the author of the manifesto which the
chairman had mentioned. Only of late had he read that great protest.
But, having read, he approved; and only regretted that there had been
any necessity for such a thing. The facts alleged were truly asserted.
This was his belief. If they preferred a representative not of the same
mind as himself, they should by all means hasten to nominate their man.
Having somewhat haughtily spoken these brave words, Garfield took his
hat and strode out, with the intention of returning to his hotel. As he
reached the street, a great shout was heard. “That sound, no doubt,
means my defeat and another’s nomination,” he muttered. But, with
nothing to regret, he went his way.
Meanwhile, what did the convention actually do? They were dumb with
astonishment for a moment; a heroic deed had been done before them, and
admiration for the chief actor was the uppermost sentiment in every
heart. Then a young man from Ashtabula called out: “Mr. Chairman, I say
that the man who has courage enough to oppose a convention like that
ought not to be discarded. I move that James A. Garfield be nominated by
acclamation.” Without a dissenting voice it was done. When election day
came, his majority was nearly twelve thousand.
The session of Congress which met in December of 1864 was marked by the
great debates on the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution, which was
presented to the States for ratification on the first of February, 1865.
Perhaps the strongest opposition to that amendment was from George H.
Pendleton, of Ohio. He spoke against it on the 13th of January. The
chief argument was that purely State institutions could not properly be
interfered with by the Nation, without the consent of the State or
States concerned. That this right of a State was reserved in the spirit
of the Constitution, just as equal representation in the Senate was
secured, beyond recall, by the letter of that instrument.
To this speech Mr. Garfield made a reply. So much of this reply as
touched upon the constitutional power of making such an amendment may be
given further on; the remainder is such a denunciation of slavery, as an
institution, as has rarely been equaled by any of those eloquent men who
devoted their lives to its extermination.
On taking the floor, Mr. Garfield began:
“_Mr. Speaker_: We shall never know why slavery dies so hard in this
Republic and in this hall till we know why sin is long-lived and
Satan is immortal. With marvelous tenacity of existence, it has
outlived the expectations of its friends and the hopes of its
enemies. It has been declared here and elsewhere to be in the
several stages of mortality—wounded, moribund, dead. The question
was raised by my colleague [Mr. Cox] yesterday whether it was indeed
dead, or only in a troubled sleep. I know of no better illustration
of its condition than is found in Sallust’s admirable history of the
great conspirator, Catiline, who, when his final battle was fought
and lost, his army broken and scattered, was found, far in advance
of his own troops, lying among the dead enemies of Rome, yet
breathing a little, but exhibiting in his countenance all the
ferocity of spirit which had characterized his life. So, sir, this
body of slavery lies before us among the dead enemies of the
Republic, mortally wounded, impotent in its fiendish wickedness, but
with its old ferocity of look, bearing the unmistakable marks of its
infernal origin.
“Who does not remember that thirty years ago—a short period in the
life of a nation—but little could be said with impunity in these
halls on the subject of slavery? We can hardly realize that this is
the same people and these the same halls, where now scarcely a man
can be found who will venture to do more than falter out an apology
for slavery, protesting in the same breath that he has no love for
the dying tyrant. None, I believe, but that man of more than
supernal boldness, from the city of New York [Mr. Fernando Wood],
has ventured, this session, to raise his voice in favor of slavery
for its own sake. He still sees in its features the reflection of
beauty and divinity, and only he. ‘How art thou fallen from heaven,
O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground,
which didst weaken the nations!’ Many mighty men have been slain by
thee; many proud ones have humbled themselves at thy feet! All along
the coast of our political sea these victims of slavery lie like
stranded wrecks, broken on the headlands of freedom. How lately did
its advocates, with impious boldness, maintain it as God’s own, to
be venerated and cherished as divine? It was another and higher form
of civilization. It was the holy evangel of America, dispensing its
mercies to a benighted race, and destined to bear countless
blessings to the wilderness of the West. In its mad arrogance it
lifted its hand to strike down the fabric of the Union, and since
that fatal day it has been a ‘fugitive and a vagabond upon the
earth.’ Like the spirit that Jesus cast out, it has, since then,
‘been seeking rest and finding none.’
“It has sought in all the corners of the Republic to find some
hiding-place in which to shelter itself from the death it so richly
deserves.
“It sought an asylum in the untrodden territories of the west, but,
with a whip of scorpions, indignant freemen drove it thence. I do
not believe that a loyal man can now be found who would consent that
it should again enter them. It has no hope of harbor there. It found
no protection or favor in the hearts or consciences of the freemen
of the Republic, and has fled for its last hope of safety behind the
shield of the Constitution. We propose to follow it there, and drive
it thence, as Satan was exiled from heaven. But now, in the hour of
its mortal agony, in this hall, it has found a defender.
“My gallant colleague [Mr. Pendleton], for I recognize him as a
gallant and able man, plants himself at the door of his darling, and
bids defiance to all assailants. He has followed slavery in its
flight, until at last it has reached the great temple where liberty
is enshrined—the Constitution of the United States—and there, in
that last retreat, declares that no hand shall strike it. It reminds
me of that celebrated passage in the great Latin poet, in which the
serpents of the Ionian sea, when they had destroyed Laocoon and his
sons, fled to the heights of the Trojan citadel and coiled their
slimy lengths around the feet of the tutelar goddess, and were
covered by the orb of her shield. So, under the guidance of my
colleague [Mr. Pendleton], slavery, gorged with the blood of ten
thousand freemen, has climbed to the high citadel of American
nationality, and coiled itself securely, as he believes, around the
feet of the statue of Justice and under the shield of the
Constitution of the United States. We desire to follow it even
there, and kill it beside the very altar of liberty. Its blood can
never make atonement for the least of its crimes.
“But the gentleman has gone further. He is not content that the
snaky sorceress shall be merely under the protection of the
Constitution. In his view, by a strange metamorphosis, slavery
becomes an invisible essence, and takes up its abode in the very
grain and fiber of the Constitution, and when we would strike it he
says, ‘I can not point out any express clause that prohibits you
from destroying slavery; but I find a prohibition in the intent and
meaning of the Constitution. I go under the surface, out of sight,
into the very genius of it, and in that invisible domain slavery is
enshrined, and there is no power in the Republic to drive it
thence.’
“But he has gone even deeper than the spirit and intent of the
Constitution. He has announced a discovery, to which I am sure no
other statesman will lay claim. He has found a domain where slavery
can no more be reached by human law than the life of Satan by the
sword of Michael. He has marked the hither boundary of this newly
discovered continent, in his response to the question of the
gentleman from Iowa.
“Not finding any thing in the words and phrases of the Constitution
that forbids an amendment abolishing slavery, he goes behind all
human enactments, and far away among the eternal equities, he finds
a primal law which overshadows States, nations, and constitutions,
as space envelops the universe, and by its solemn sanctions one
human being can hold another in perpetual slavery. Surely, human
ingenuity has never gone farther to protect a malefactor, or defend
a crime. I shall make no argument with my colleague on this point,
for in that high court to which he appeals, eternal justice dwells
with freedom, and slavery has never entered.
“On the justice of the amendment itself no arguments are necessary.
The reasons crowd in on every side. To enumerate them would be a
work of superfluity. To me it is a matter of great surprise that
gentlemen on the other side should wish to delay the death of
slavery. I can only account for it on the ground of long continued
familiarity and friendship. I should be glad to hear them say of
slavery, their beloved, as did the jealous Moor:
“Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men.”
“Has she not betrayed and slain men enough? Are they not strewn over
a thousand battle-fields? Is not this Moloch already gorged with the
bloody feast? Its best friends know that its final hour is fast
approaching. The avenging gods are on its track. Their feet are not
now, as of old, shod with wool, for slow and stately stepping, but
winged, like Mercury’s, to bear the swift message of vengeance. No
human power can avert the final catastrophe.”
Five days after this address, Mr. Garfield, together with Henry Winter
Davis, made a lively attack on the War Department. At this time the writ
of _habeas corpus_ was suspended, and the art of imprisoning men without
warrant or accusation was reaching a high state of perfection. The
Carroll and Old Capital prisons were full of victims who could not find
out why they were thus arbitrarily confined.
This tyrannical practice having been brought before the committee on
military affairs, some of them investigated the subject. As a result, a
resolution was offered calling for a public inquiry, which resolution
passed. The next day Thaddeus Stevens attempted to get it rescinded,
whereupon he was met by a fiery speech from Mr. Garfield, which saved
the resolution; and in a few days there was a general freeing of all
prisoners against whom no sufficient charges could be made.
In his speech, Mr. Garfield graphically told of the great injustice
which was being done, especially to men who had served the country in
the field. One of these was a colonel in the Union army, who had been
wounded and discharged from the service, but now, for some unknown
reason, perhaps maliciously, had been deprived of his liberty. Mr.
Garfield had been an admirer of Stanton, and recognized the great
Secretary’s ability and patriotism; but this could not save either him
or his subordinates from just censures.
This action was the occasion of much admiring notice from the public,
and even from Stanton himself. For such was the reputed roughness of
Stanton’s temper that few men ever had enough temerity to criticise him.
On the night of April 14, 1865, the war-heated blood of this nation was
frozen with sudden horror at a deed which then had no parallel in
American history—the murder of Abraham Lincoln.
That night General Garfield was in New York City.
In the early morning hours a colored servant came to the door of his
room at the hotel, and in a heart-broken voice announced that Mr.
Lincoln, the emancipator of his race from bondage, had been shot down by
a traitor to the country.
Morning came; but dark were the hours whose broken wings labored to
bring the light of day. Soon the streets were filled with people. Every
body seemed to have come out and left the houses empty. It was not a
holiday, and yet all seemed to be doing nothing. No business was
transacted, yet mirth and laughter were unheard. Such silence and such
multitudes never before were met together.
Garfield wandered out into the streets, and noted these ominous
appearances. The city was like Paris, just before its pavements are to
be torn up for a barricade battle in some revolutionary outbreak.
Great posters, fixed in prominent places, called for a nine o’clock
meeting of citizens at Wall Street Exchange Building. The newspaper
bulletins, black, brief recorders of fate as they are, were surrounded
with crushing crowds waiting for the latest word from Washington.
Arriving in the region of Wall Street, General Garfield made his way
through the mass of men who surrounded the Exchange Building, until he
reached the balcony. Here Benjamin F. Butler was making an address.
Fifty thousand people were crowding toward that central figure, from
whose left arm waved a yard of crape which told the terrible story to
multitudes who could not hear his words.
General Butler ceased speaking. What should be done with this great
crowd of desperate men? What would they do with themselves?
Lincoln was dead; word came that Seward, with his throat cut, was dying.
Men feared some dread conspiracy which would redden the North with
innocent blood, and hand over the Government to treason and traitors.
Two men in this crowd said that “Lincoln ought to have been shot long
ago.” A minute later one of them was dead; the other lay in the ditch,
bleeding and dying. Thousands of men clutched, in their pockets,
revolvers and knives, to be used on whoever said a word against the
martyred President.
Suddenly from the extreme right wing of the crowd rose a cry: “The
World!” “The office of the World!” “The World!”—and the mass began to
move as one man toward that office. Where would this end? Destruction of
property, loss of life, violence and anarchy, were in that movement, and
apparently no human power could now check its progress.
Then a man stepped to the front of the balcony and held his arm aloft.
His commanding attitude arrested universal attention. Perhaps he was
going to give them the latest news. They waited. But while they
listened, the voice—it was the voice of General Garfield—only said:
“Fellow-citizens: Clouds and darkness are around about Him! His
pavilion is dark waters and thick clouds of the skies! Justice and
judgment are the establishment of His throne! Mercy and truth shall
go before His face! Fellow-citizens: God reigns, and the Government
at Washington still lives!”
The tide of popular fury was stayed. The impossible had been
accomplished. “The World” was saved; but that was not much. The safety
of a great city was secured; and that was much.
Other meetings were held in New York City on that memorable day, and the
magnetic speaker of the morning was called out again. In the course of
an address that afternoon he uttered these words:
“By this last act of madness, it seems as though the Rebellion had
determined that the President of the soldiers should go with the
soldiers who have laid down their lives on the battle-field. They
slew the noblest and gentlest heart that ever put down a rebellion
upon this earth. In taking that life they have left the iron hand of
the people to fall upon them. Love is on the front of the throne of
God, but justice and judgment, with inexorable dread, follow behind;
and when law is slighted and mercy despised, when they have rejected
those who would be their best friends, then comes justice with her
hoodwinked eyes, and with the sword and scales. From every gaping
wound of your dead chief, let the voice go up from the people to see
to it that our house is swept and garnished. I hasten to say one
thing more, fellow-citizens. For mere vengeance I would do nothing.
This nation is too great to look for mere revenge. But _for security
of the future_ I would do every thing.”
It is a remarkable fact that when the nation gave expression to its
sorrow over Lincoln’s death, Garfield should have been so notably _the
voice_ which spoke that sorrow.
A year passed on. In April of 1866, Congress, busy with the important
legislation of that period, neglected to remember the approaching
anniversary. On the morning of April 14, the newspapers announced that,
according to President Johnson’s order, the Government offices would be
closed that day out of respect to murdered Lincoln.
Congressmen at the breakfast table read this announcement, and hurried
to the Capitol, inquiring what corresponding action should be taken by
the two Houses of Congress.
General Garfield was in the committee room, hard at work on the
preparation of a bill, when, shortly before time for the House to come
to order, Speaker Colfax came hurriedly in, saying that Mr. Garfield
must be in the House directly and move an adjournment. At the same time
Garfield should make an address appropriate to such an anniversary. That
gentleman protested that the time was too short, but Colfax insisted,
and left the room.
Remaining there alone for a quarter of an hour, the General thought of
the tragic event, and what he should say. Is there not something weirdly
prophetic, to us who live under the reign of Arthur, in the picture of
that silent man of serious mien and thoughtful brow, sitting alone, and
thinking of our _first_ assassinated President?
Just as the clerk finished reading the previous day’s Journal of the
House, Mr. Garfield arose and said:
“_Mr. Speaker_: I desire to move that this House do now adjourn; and
before the vote upon that motion is taken, I desire to say a few
words.
“This day, Mr. Speaker, will be sadly memorable so long as this
nation shall endure, which, God grant, maybe ‘till the last syllable
of recorded time,’ when the volume of human history shall be sealed
up and delivered to the Omnipotent Judge.
“In all future time, on the recurrence of this day, I doubt not that
the citizens of this Republic will meet in solemn assembly to
reflect on the life and character of Abraham Lincoln, and the awful
tragic event of April 14, 1865,—an event unparalleled in the history
of nations, certainly unparalleled in our own. It is eminently
proper that this House should this day place upon its records a
memorial of that event.
“The last five years have been marked by wonderful developments of
human character. Thousands of our people before unknown to fame,
have taken their places in history, crowned with immortal honors. In
thousands of humble homes are dwelling heroes and patriots whose
names shall never die. But greatest among all these developments
were the character and fame of Abraham Lincoln, whose loss the
nation still deplores. His character is aptly described in the words
of England’s great laureate—written thirty years ago—in which he
traces the upward steps of some
“‘Divinely gifted man,
Whose life in low estate began,
And on a simple village green:
Who breaks his birth’s invidious bar,
And grasps the skirts of happy chance,
And breasts the blows of circumstance,
And grapples with his evil star:
Who makes by force his merit known,
And lives to clutch the golden keys
To mold a mighty State’s decrees,
And shape the whisper of the throne:
And moving up from high to higher,
Becomes on Fortune’s crowning slope,
The pillar of a people’s hope,
The center of a world’s desire.’
“Such a life and character will be treasured forever as the sacred
possession of the American people and of mankind. In the great drama
of the rebellion, there were two acts. The first was the war, with
its battles and sieges, victories and defeats, its sufferings and
tears. That act was closing one year ago to-night, and just as the
curtain was lifting on the second and final act, the restoration of
peace and liberty,—just as the curtain was rising upon new events
and new characters,—the evil spirit of the rebellion, in the fury of
despair, nerved and directed the hand of the assassin to strike down
the chief character in both.
“It was no one man who killed Abraham Lincoln; it was the embodied
spirit of treason and slavery, inspired with fearful and despairing
hate, that struck him down in the moment of the nation’s supremest
joy.
“Ah, sirs, there are times in the history of men and nations when
they stand so near the veil that separates mortals from immortals,
time from eternity, and men from their God, that they can almost
hear the beatings and feel the pulsations of the heart of the
Infinite! Through such a time has this nation passed. When two
hundred and fifty thousand brave spirits passed from the field of
honor through that thin veil to the presence of God, and when at
last its parting folds admitted the martyr President to the company
of the dead heroes of the Republic, the nation stood so near the
veil that the whispers of God were heard by the children of men.
“Awe-stricken by His voice, the American people knelt in tearful
reverence and made a solemn covenant with Him and with each other
that this nation should be saved from its enemies, that all its
glories should be restored, and on the ruins of treason and slavery
the temples of freedom and justice should be built, and should
survive forever. It remains for us, consecrated by that great event,
and under a covenant with God, to keep that faith, to go forward in
the great work until it shall be completed.
“Following the lead of that great man, and obeying the high behests
of God, let us remember that—
“‘He has sounded forth a trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat.
Be swift, my soul, to answer him, be jubilant at my feet;
For God is marching on.’
“I move, sir, that this House do now adjourn.”
The motion being agreed to, the House was declared adjourned.
It is now necessary to hasten on to the Thirty-Ninth Congress, wherein
General Garfield, no longer under the disadvantages of a new member,
continued to develop rapidly as an able worker.
General Garfield was a thorough-going temperance man. On returning to
his house in Painesville, Ohio, in the summer of 1865, he found the good
people of that place in trouble on account of a brewery which had been
established in their midst. All efforts to have it removed had been
unavailing. Public meetings were held. Garfield attended one of these,
and while there announced that he would that day remove the brewery.
He just went over to the brewer and bought him out for $10,000. The
liquor on hand, and such brewing machinery as could not be used for any
thing else, he destroyed. When autumn came he used his new establishment
as a cider-mill. The cider was kept till it became good vinegar, and
then sold. The General thus did a good thing for the public, and, it is
said, made money out of the investment, until, after several years, he
sold the building.
When Congress met in December, 1865, it had to face a great task. The
rebellion had been put down, but at great cost; and they had an enormous
debt to provide for. Four years of war had disorganized every thing, and
great questions of finance, involving tariffs, and taxation, and a
thousand vexed themes of public policy, hung with leaden weight over the
heads of our national legislators.
Garfield was one of the few men who were both able and willing to face
the music and bury themselves in the bewildering world of figures which
loomed in the dusky foreground of coming events. The interest alone on
our liabilities amounted to $150,000,000.
When Speaker Colfax made up his committees, he asked Garfield what he
would like. Garfield replied that he would like to have a place which
called for the study of finance. Justin S. Morrill, Chairman of the
Committee on Ways and Means, also asked for him.
He was, accordingly, put upon that committee, and immediately began to
study the subjects which were connected with its prospective work.
Conceiving that our financial condition was in some respects parallel to
that of England at the close of the Napoleonic wars, he carefully
investigated the conditions, policy, and progress of that Government
from the time of Waterloo until the resumption of specie payments. The
most remarkable periods of our own financial history were also studied,
especially that wherein the great Alexander Hamilton appears the master
mind.
These pursuits, and a wide-reaching knowledge of the existing conditions
in our own country, were the foundations on which Garfield built the
structure of a set of opinions which were then received as good, and
which still withstand the test of time.
Garfield was a splendid lawyer. It is only because his course was pushed
aside into the great lines of war and of politics that his history is
not largely the story of great triumphs at the bar. When he was examined
for admission to the bar of Ohio, the lawyers who examined him
pronounced his legal knowledge phenomenal for a man to have acquired in
the short time he had been reading.
But he never practiced in any court until 1866. In this place there can
be mentioned only his first case, in which he argued before the United
States Supreme Court. Afterwards he had about thirty cases in that
court, and often appeared in State courts. At one time Judge Jeremiah S.
Black, a lawyer of National reputation, offered him a partnership.
Financially it would have been a good thing for Garfield, but
fortunately for his constituents and for the country, he refused. Yet,
in the language of Stanley Matthews, now of the U. S. Supreme Court, Mr.
Garfield actually ranked “as one of the very best lawyers at the bar of
the whole country.”
In 1864, L. P. Milligan, W. A. Bowles, and Stephen Horsey, three
citizens of Indiana, were arrested in that State on charges of treason.
There was no doubt that they were guilty of the crime. But,
unfortunately, they were not tried according to law. No government can
long hold such absolute powers as were given to our government during
the rebellion, without developing in some degree a carelessness of the
forms of law which is fatal to liberty. Indiana was not the scene of
war. Her courts, and the United States courts there were open for the
prosecution of criminals. Yet these men were arrested by the military
department, tried by a military commission, and condemned to be hanged.
Lincoln commuted their sentence to imprisonment for life, and they were
sent to the State penitentiary. At this juncture a petition was
presented to the U. S. Circuit Court for a writ of _habeas corpus_, to
test the legality of these arbitrary proceedings. The judges of that
court not agreeing, the points on which they disagreed were certified up
to the Supreme Court. These points were:
“1. On the facts stated in said petition and exhibits, ought a writ
of _habeas corpus_ to be issued according to the prayer of said
petition? 2. On the facts stated in said petition and exhibits,
ought the petitioners to be discharged from custody, as in said
petition prayed? 3. On the facts stated in said petition and
exhibits, had the military commission mentioned therein jurisdiction
legally to try and sentence said petitioners in manner and form as
in said petition and exhibits is stated?”
This was the case. On March 6, 1866, it was to be argued. The eminent
counsel engaged therein were: Hons. Joseph E. McDonald, Jere. S. Black,
James A. Garfield, and David D. Field, for petitioners; Hons. Benjamin
F. Butler, James Speed, and Henry Stanbery, for the Government.
Garfield had been invited to appear in this case by Mr. Black, who had
observed that, although a patriotic friend of the Administration,
Garfield had often sternly opposed its tendency to break all restraints
of law in the exercise of its powers. So he expected,—and found it
true,—that Garfield’s judgment would be with his side of the Milligan
case. Of course that was the unpopular side. For Mr. Garfield to defend
Milligan and his fellow-traitors would perhaps again endanger his
reëlection; but he was not the man to hesitate when he saw himself in
the right.
One of Garfield’s Democratic co-counsel in this case has called this act
the greatest and bravest of Garfield’s life. Like old John Adams,
defending British soldiers for the Boston massacre, storms of obloquy
and the sunshine of favor he alike disregarded for the sake of
principle.
After two days and nights of preparation, Mr. Garfield had decided upon
the points of his argument. Needless to say, it was a complete and
unanswerable presentation of those great English and American
constitutional principles which secure the free people of those
countries from star chambers and military despotisms. It showed forth
clearly the limits of military power, and demonstrated the utter want of
jurisdiction of a military court over civilian citizens.
When Garfield finished, he had established every essential point of his
case beyond a peradventure. His speech closed with these eloquent words,
in appeal to the court:
“Your decision will mark an era in American history. The just and
final settlement of this great question will take a high place among
the great achievements which have immortalized this decade. It will
establish forever this truth, of inestimable value to us and to
mankind, that a Republic can wield the vast enginery of war without
breaking down the safeguards of liberty; can suppress insurrection
and put down rebellion, however formidable, without destroying the
bulwarks of law; can, by the might of its armed millions, preserve
and defend both nationality and liberty. Victories on the field were
of priceless value, for they plucked the life of the Republic out of
the hands of its enemies; but
‘Peace hath her victories
No less renowned than war;’
and if the protection of law shall, by your decision, be extended
over every acre of our peaceful territory, you will have rendered
the great decision of the century.
“When Pericles had made Greece immortal in arts and arms, in liberty
and law, he invoked the genius of Phidias to devise a monument which
should symbolize the beauty and glory of Athens. That artist
selected for his theme the tutelar divinity of Athens, the Jove-born
Goddess, protectress of arts and arms, of industry and law, who
typified the Greek conception of composed, majestic, unrelenting
force. He erected on the heights of the Acropolis a colossal statue
of Minerva, armed with spear and helmet, which towered in awful
majesty above the surrounding temples of the gods. Sailors on
far-off ships beheld the crest and spear of the Goddess, and bowed
with reverent awe. To every Greek she was the symbol of power and
glory. But the Acropolis, with its temples and statues, is now a
heap of ruins. The visible gods have vanished in the clearer light
of modern civilization. We can not restore the decayed emblems of
ancient Greece, but it is in your power, O Judge, to erect in this
citadel of our liberties a monument more lasting than brass;
invisible, indeed, to the eye of flesh, but visible to the eye of
the spirit as the awful form and figure of Justice crowning and
adorning the Republic; rising above the storms of political strife,
above the din of battle, above the earthquake shock of rebellion;
seen from afar and hailed as protector by the oppressed of all
nations; dispensing equal blessings, and covering with the
protecting shield of law the weakest, the humblest, the meanest,
and, until declared by solemn law unworthy of protection, the
guiltiest of its citizens.”
Other and very able arguments were made on both sides of the case; but
the law was sustained and the prisoners set free.
For this act Garfield was denounced by many newspapers and many
individuals in his own State and elsewhere. But, as usual, he weathered
it all, and was reëlected to Congress in the fall; for the Reserve
people had come to the point of believing in Garfield, though he did not
follow their opinions. In from one to three years afterwards they
generally discovered that he had been right from the start.
On February 1, 1866, Garfield made that masterly address on the
Freedmen’s Bureau, in which he so clearly set forth his views on the
nature of the Union, and the States of which it is composed. This speech
will be more fully mentioned in another place. On March 16, 1866, he
made a remarkably able speech on “The Currency and Specie Payments,”
farther reference to which must, for the present, be deferred.
A man of Mr. Garfield’s intellect and scholarly acquirements, could not
fail to be interested in the cause of education, always and every-where.
He was himself a splendid result of the free-school system of Ohio, and
had been an enthusiastic teacher. What, then, more natural than that as
a public man he should try to interest Congress in the condition of
American schools?
At the request of the American Association of School Superintendents,
Mr. Garfield, in February, 1866, prepared a bill for the establishment
of a National Bureau of Education. The principal object of this bureau
was to collect statistics and other facts, and so to arrange and to
publish them as to enlighten the people as to our progress in the means
of education. The bill was opposed on account of the expense, as it
called for an appropriation of fifteen thousand dollars!
Speaking on this bill, June 8, 1866, Mr. Garfield called attention to
the subject of national expenditures for extra governmental purposes. We
had expended millions on a Coast Survey Bureau, on an Astronomical
Observatory, on a Light-House Board, on Exploring Expeditions, on the
Pacific Railroad Survey, on Agriculture, on the Patent Office,—why not a
few dollars on Education? “As man is greater than the soil, as the
immortal spirit is nobler than the clod it animates, so is the object of
this bill of more importance than any mere pecuniary interest.”
The National Bureau of Education was established, and the results of its
work have fully vindicated the opinions of its founders.
Garfield’s idea of what should be taught in our schools and colleges was
as broad and deep as the domain of knowledge; but, withal, very
practical. That he loved the classics, his own study of them
demonstrates; but he saw that something better adapted to the scientific
and practical character of our country was needed. In an address at
Hiram, on June 14, 1867, he gave emphatic expression to this idea.
“A finished education is supposed to consist mainly of literary
culture. The story of the forges of the Cyclops, where the
thunderbolts of Jove were fashioned, is supposed to adorn elegant
scholarship more gracefully that those sturdy truths which are
preaching to this generation in the wonders of the mine, in the fire
of the furnace, in the clang of the iron-mills, and the other
innumerable industries, which, more than all other human agencies,
have made our civilization what it is, and are destined to achieve
wonders yet undreamed of. This generation is beginning to understand
that education should not be forever divorced from industry; that
the highest results can be reached only when science guides the hand
of labor. With what eagerness and alacrity is industry seizing every
truth of science and putting it in harness!”
Moreover, Mr. Garfield believed strongly in a liberal political
education for the youth of the land. On this point, in the address above
mentioned, he said:
“It is well to know the history of these magnificent nations, whose
origin is lost in fable, and whose epitaphs were written a thousand
years ago; but, if we can not know both, it is far better to study
the history of our own nation, whose origin we can trace to the
freest and noblest aspirations of the human heart—a nation that was
formed from the hardiest, purest, and most enduring elements of
European civilization; a nation that by its faith and courage has
dared and accomplished more for the human race in a single century
than Europe accomplished in the first thousand years of the
Christian era. The New England township was the type after which our
Federal Government was modeled; yet it would be rare to find a
college student who can make a comprehensive and intelligible
statement of the municipal organization of the township in which he
was born, and tell you by what officers its legislative, judicial,
and executive functions are administered. One half of the time which
is now almost wholly wasted in district schools on English grammar,
attempted at too early an age, would be sufficient to teach our
children to love the Republic, and to become its loyal and life-long
supporters. After the bloody baptism from which the Nation has risen
to a higher and nobler life, if this shameful defect in our system
of education be not speedily remedied, we shall deserve the infinite
contempt of future generations. I insist that it should be made an
indispensable condition of graduation in every American college,
that the student must understand the history of this continent since
its discovery by Europeans, the origin and history of the United
States, its constitution of government, the struggles through which
it has passed, and the rights and duties of citizens who are to
determine its destiny and share its glory.
“Having thus gained the knowledge which is necessary to life,
health, industry, and citizenship, the student is prepared to enter
a wider and grander field of thought. If he desires that large and
liberal culture which will call into activity all his powers, and
make the most of the material God has given him, he must study
deeply and earnestly the intellectual, the moral, the religious, and
the æsthetic nature of man; his relations to nature, to civilization
past and present; and, above all, his relations to God. These should
occupy, nearly, if not fully, half the time of his college course.
In connection with the philosophy of the mind, he should study
logic, the pure mathematics, and the general laws of thought. In
connection with moral philosophy, he should study political and
social ethics—a science so little known either in colleges or
Congresses. Prominent among all the rest, should be his study of the
wonderful history of the human race, in its slow and toilsome march
across the centuries—now buried in ignorance, superstition, and
crime; now rising to the sublimity of heroism and catching a glimpse
of a better destiny; now turning remorselessly away from, and
leaving to perish, empires and civilizations in which it had
invested its faith and courage and boundless energy for a thousand
years, and, plunging into the forests of Germany, Gaul, and Britain,
to build for itself new empires better fitted for its new
aspirations; and, at last, crossing three thousand miles of unknown
sea, and building in the wilderness of a new hemisphere its latest
and proudest monuments.”
When the Fortieth Congress met, in December of 1867, Mr. Garfield was,
contrary to his wishes, taken off the Committee on Ways and Means and
made Chairman of the Committee on Military Affairs. In the line of this
work he pursued some very important investigations of both military and
political character.
Among his most important speeches, in this connection, were that on the
“Military Control of the Rebel States” made in February, 1867 (during
the Thirty-Ninth Congress), and that delivered January 17, 1868, on the
then all-absorbing theme, “Reconstruction.”
In the conflict between President Johnson and the majority in Congress,
about the government of the late rebel States, Mr. Garfield was, of
course, sternly opposed to that outrageous policy of the President,
whose main object seemed to be the undoing of all the beneficial results
of the war.
When the articles of impeachment against Johnson were passed, Garfield
was not in Washington; but on his return, February 29, 1868, he took
occasion to say that if he had been present he should have voted for
them. He had formerly opposed such action because he thought it would be
unsuccessful. Johnson’s later actions, however, especially his arbitrary
dismissal of Secretary Stanton, were such clear violations of the
Constitution that he supposed the President’s guilt could be judicially
established, and therefore he favored the attempt.
On the 15th of May of this same year, Mr. Garfield delivered another
address on the currency. His financial views were still in advance of
his party, and the unsound views advanced by various politicians gave
opportunity for many a well-directed shot from his well-stored armory of
facts, figures, and principles. His speeches on this topic alone would
fill a large volume.
In 1868 occurred one of the many attempts made by politicians to reduce
the public debt by extorting money from the Nation’s creditors. On July
15, 1868, Mr. Garfield discussed, at considerable length and with all
his usual clearness and ability, one of these measures, which, in this
case, was a bill for the taxation of bonds. He was too honest a man,
and, at the same time, too sound a financier, to be blind to the wrong
as well as the impolitic character of such a law. Two paragraphs will
suffice to exhibit these two points:
“Nobody expects that we can pay as fast as the debt matures, but we
shall be compelled to go into the market and negotiate new loans.
Let this system of taxation be pursued; let another Congress put the
tax at twenty per cent., another at forty per cent., and another at
fifty per cent., or one hundred per cent.; let the principle once be
adopted—the rate is only a question of discretion—and where will you
be able to negotiate a loan except at the most ruinous sacrifice?
Let such legislation prevail as the gentleman urges, and can we look
any man in the face and ask him to loan us money? If we do not keep
faith to-day, how can we expect to be trusted hereafter?
“There was a declaration made by an old English gentleman in the
days of Charles II. which does honor to human nature. He said he was
willing at any time to give his life for the good of his country;
but he would not do a mean thing to save his country from ruin. So,
sir, ought a citizen to feel in regard to our financial affairs. The
people of the United States can afford to make any sacrifice for
their country, and the history of the last war has proved their
willingness; but the humblest citizen can not afford to do a mean or
dishonorable thing to save even this glorious Republic.”
It was in 1867 that Garfield made his only trip to Europe. When the
summer of that year came, the hard year’s work, just finished, had made
considerable inroad on his health, and he thought a sea voyage would
bring back his strength. On July 13, Mr. and Mrs. Garfield sailed from
New York in the “City of London,” which carried them across the Atlantic
in thirteen days.
Remembering the ambitions of his boyhood to become a sailor, Garfield
enjoyed his voyage as few men do who cross the sea. They reached
Liverpool on the 26th, and as they steamed up the Mersey, General
Garfield significantly remarked, looking down into its muddy waters,
“The quality of Mersey is not strained.”
From Liverpool they went to London, stopping at two or three interesting
places by the way. At London he visited both Houses of Parliament, heard
debates on the great reform bill which passed at that time; saw
Gladstone, Disraeli, Bright, and other great Englishmen, and after a
week of sight-seeing and studying here, visited other parts of England,
and then went to Scotland. Mr. Blaine and Mr. Morrill, were with them in
Scotland. There the General visited the home of Burns and re-read “Tam
O’Shanter.”
Leaving Scotland at Leith, they crossed the North Sea to Rotterdam, went
to Brussels and Cologne, and thence up the Rhine to Mayence.
Thence by various stages, reveling in old world glories, he reached
Italy—Florence and Rome. Here a year of life was crowded into a week,
while Garfield lived amid the wrecks of antiquity and the decayed
remnants of that dead empire whose splendid history can not be forgotten
till “the last syllable of recorded time.”
On October first they proceeded, by a circuitous route, to make their
way to Paris, where they met several American friends, among them the
artist, Miss Ransom. After a short stay there, and a few excursions to
other places, they finally started for home, and by November 6th they
were once more standing on American soil.
General Garfield’s health was by this means thoroughly restored, and he
had realized in some degree one of the sincerest wishes of his life,—a
more familiar acquaintance with some places across the sea than books
could give.
On May 30, 1868, occurred the first general observance of that beautiful
national custom, the annual decoration of the soldiers’ graves. On that
day, the President and his Cabinet, with a large number of Congressmen
and other distinguished persons, and about fifteen thousand people, met
on Arlington Heights to pay their respects to the Nation’s dead, and
listen to an address. The orator of the day was Garfield.
No more touching and sincere expression of patriotic sentiments was ever
uttered than he spoke there that day. Indeed, his reverence for the time
and place was deeper than his words could tell. To this he referred in
the beginning, saying:
“If silence is ever golden, it must be here, beside the graves of
fifteen thousand men, whose lives were more significant than speech,
and whose death was a poem the music of which can never be sung.
With words we make promises, plight faith, praise virtue. Promises
may not be kept; plighted faith may be broken; and vaunted virtue
may be only the cunning mask of vice. We do not know one promise
these men made, one pledge they gave, one word they spoke; but we do
know they summed up and perfected, by one supreme act, the highest
virtues of men and citizens. For love of country they accepted
death; and thus resolved all doubts, and made immortal their
patriotism and their virtue.
“For the noblest man that lives there still remains a conflict. He
must still withstand the assaults of time and fortune; must still be
assailed with temptations before which lofty natures have fallen.
But with _these_, the conflict ended, the victory was won, when
death stamped on them the great seal of heroic character, and closed
a record which years can never blot.”
This memorable address closed thus:
“And now, consider this silent assembly of the dead. What does it
represent? Nay, rather, what does it not represent? It is an epitome
of the war. Here are sheaves reaped, in the harvest of death, from
every battle-field of Virginia. If each grave had a voice to tell us
what its silent tenant last saw and heard on earth, we might stand,
with uncovered heads, and hear the whole story of the war. We should
hear that one perished when the first great drops of the crimson
shower began to fall, when the darkness of that first disaster at
Manassas fell like an eclipse on the Nation; that another died of
disease while wearily waiting for winter to end; that this one fell
on the field, in sight of the spires of Richmond, little dreaming
that the flag must be carried through three more years of blood
before it should be planted in that citadel of treason; and that one
fell when the tide of war had swept us back, till the roar of rebel
guns shook the dome of yonder Capitol, and re-echoed in the chambers
of the Executive Mansion. We should hear mingled voices from the
Rappahannock, the Rapidan, the Chickahominy, and the James; solemn
voices from the Wilderness, and triumphant shouts from the
Shenandoah, from Petersburg, and the Five Forks, mingled with the
wild acclaim of victory and the sweet chorus of returning peace. The
voices of these dead will forever fill the land, like holy
benedictions.
“What other spot so fitting for their last resting-place as this,
under the shadow of the capitol saved by their valor? Here, where
the grim edge of battle joined; here, where all the hope and fear
and agony of their country centered; here let them rest, asleep on
the Nation’s heart, entombed in the Nation’s love!
“The view from this spot bears some resemblance to that which greets
the eye at Rome. In sight of the Capitoline Hill, up and across the
Tiber, and overlooking the city, is a hill, not rugged or lofty, but
known as the Vatican Mount. At the beginning of the Christian Era,
an imperial circus stood on its summit. There, gladiator slaves died
for the sport of Rome, and wild beasts fought with wilder men. In
that arena, a Galilean fisherman gave up his life, a sacrifice for
his faith. No human life was ever so nobly avenged. On that spot was
reared the proudest Christian temple ever built by human hands. For
its adornment, the rich offerings of every clime and kingdom had
been contributed. And now, after eighteen centuries, the hearts of
two hundred million people turn toward it with reverence when they
worship God. As the traveler descends the Apennines, he sees the
dome of St. Peter rising above the desolate Campagna and the dead
city, long before the Seven Hills and ruined palaces appear to his
view. The fame of the dead fisherman has outlived the glory of the
Eternal City. A noble life, crowned with heroic death, rises above
and outlives the pride and pomp and glory of the mightiest empire of
the earth.
“Seen from the western slope of our Capitol, in direction, distance,
and appearance, this spot is not unlike the Vatican Mount, though
the river that flows at our feet is larger than a hundred Tibers.
Seven years ago this was the home of one who lifted his sword
against the life of his country, and who became the great imperator
of the rebellion. The soil beneath our feet was watered by the tears
of slaves, in whose hearts the sight of yonder proud Capitol
awakened no pride, and inspired no hope. The face of the goddess
that crowns it was turned toward the sea, and not toward them. But,
thanks be to God, this arena of rebellion and slavery is a scene of
violence and crime no longer! This will be forever the sacred
mountain of our capital. Here is our temple; its pavement is the
sepulcher of heroic hearts; its dome, the bending heaven; its altar
candles, the watching stars.
“Hither our children’s children shall come to pay their tribute of
grateful homage. For this are we met to-day. By the happy suggestion
of a great society, assemblies like this are gathering at this hour
in every State in the Union. Thousands of soldiers are to-day
turning aside in the march of life to visit the silent encampments
of dead comrades who once fought by their sides.
“From many thousand homes, whose light was put out when a soldier
fell, there go forth to-day, to join these solemn processions,
loving kindred and friends, from whose hearts the shadow of grief
will never be lifted till the light of the eternal world dawns upon
them.
“And here are children, little children, to whom the war left no
father but the Father above. By the most sacred right, theirs is the
chief place to-day. They come with garlands to crown their victor
fathers. I will delay the celebration no longer.”
CHAPTER VII.
LEADER AND STATESMAN.
As a politician, General Garfield was peculiar. In fact, he was scarcely
a politician at all. The title of this chapter tells what he was. While
he was in Europe the inflation cry was raised. Greenbacks were good. The
Government printing-presses were idle. Why not put the presses at work
making more greenbacks? There were plenty of worthy, industrious men,
who were poor. Why not have money enough to place every one in
comfortable circumstances? What a capital idea! Why had no one thought
of it before? The West, and particularly Ohio, laughed aloud with
pleasure at the new fountain of wealth which had been right under the
people’s noses all the time, and no one ever suspected it. In order to
make things even all around, it was the thing to do to make the
bondholders take greenbacks instead of gold for their bonds. If they
objected, no matter; they could stand it. Ohio Republicans took up this
battle cry. General Garfield’s constituents were for inflation with all
their hearts. As for himself he had, in March, 1866, declared for hard
money, and for the payment of the bonds in gold. Congressmen have to go
to the country every two years, so that the popular sentiment may be
constantly represented in the Lower House of Congress. Garfield had been
reëlected three times. To secure another election, most men would have
found their political opinions, about election time, gradually coming
around to those of the people. Read the following extract from a letter
by General Garfield to his confidential friend, Hinsdale, written March
8, 1868:
“_The State convention at Columbus has committed itself to some
financial doctrines that, if I understand them, I can not and will
not indorse. If my constituents approve them, they can not approve
me._ Before many weeks my immediate political future will be
decided. I care less about the result than I have ever cared
before.”
How is that for independence?
But the private letter was only the preface to an expression of the same
thing in public. When General Garfield came home his friends found that
he was immovable on the financial question. A short time before the
nominating convention he was about to return to Washington. Some friends
at Jefferson arranged to give him a reception on the eve of his
departure. There was to be some speech-making. His friends had urged him
to let the financial question alone. The welcoming address contained
some broad hints. The speaker hinted at the greenback platform, and
delicately intimated that General Garfield’s return was conditioned upon
his indorsement of the platform. Then the thunderer let fly. Garfield
took up the question of finance, and, in the boldest terms, denounced
the party platform as dishonest and despicable. He declared that if a
life-time of office were offered him, with the understanding that he was
to support the platform, he would refuse it at once. Then he took
himself off to Washington. When the time for the convention came he was
renominated, and a short time later elected.
It is impossible to even sketch the varied activities of the man from
this time on, in Congress. His voluminous reports, his comprehensive
debates on every leading subject, his immense and varied committee work,
comprise a vast field, the very outline of which would surpass the
limits of this work. No subject of national importance escaped his
attention. Reconstruction, pensions, navigation, tariff, internal
improvements, the census, education, the Indian question, corporations,
the currency, national banks, public expenditures, civil service reform,
railways, civil rights, polygamy, the Chinese—these are only a few of
the great subjects which he mastered. His speeches are incomparable for
their profound learning, their exhaustive research, their glowing
rhetoric. They might serve as text-books upon the great governmental
problems of the age. In looking over the record of the proceedings in
Congress at this period, one can but be impressed with the marked
superiority of his efforts over those of the large majority of his
compeers. However worthy the utterances of these latter may be viewed
alone, they are dwarfed by the forced comparison with the productions of
his majestic mind. These speeches mark the man as a carefully trained
intellectual giant, perfectly at home and a terror in the field of
debate. They are of inestimable value now, as giving his intellectual
biography.
On December 14, 1868, he introduced a bill “To strengthen the public
credit.” This subsequently became a part of the great bill making our
bonds payable in gold. Around this fortification of the public credit,
for ten years, political warfare raged the fiercest, but the rampart was
never taken; and, in 1879, when resumption was accomplished, the law
still remained on the statute book. Every attempt to repeal it was
fought by Garfield on the principles of political science, and his name
must be placed with those of Grant and Sherman on this question.
February 26, 1869, General Garfield, as Chairman of the Military
Committee, made the monster report upon the reorganization of the army.
It contains one hundred and thirty-seven printed pages. The stupendous
problem of readjusting the armies of the republic to a peace footing,
had occupied Garfield for years. His report was the result of
examinations of all the leading army officers. It contained the history
of each department of the army. It illuminated all the dark corners, the
secret channels, the hidden chambers of corruption which had been
constructed in the military policy of the country, and was the product
of enormous labor.
In the spring of 1869 General Garfield introduced a resolution for the
appointment of a committee to examine into the necessities for
legislation upon the subject of the ninth census, to be taken the
following year. He was appointed chairman. His speeches on the great
subject of statistics are most characteristic. They are wholly out of
the rut of Congressional speeches. They show Garfield in the light of a
political scientist. Nothing could more strikingly prove the enormous
reach of his mind. He showed himself abreast of the scientific thought
of the age. Volume after volume of the _Congressional Globe_ will be
searched in vain to find speeches from any other man which even
approximate these studies in the region of social science. Nowhere in or
out of Congress can be found so succinct and admirable a statement of
the importance of statistics. Here is an extract from his first speech,
made April 6, 1869:
“This is the age of statistics, Mr. Speaker. The word ‘statistics’
itself did not exist until 1749, whence we date the beginning of a
new science on which modern legislation must be based, in order to
be permanent. The treatise of Achenwall, the German philosopher who
originated the word, laid the foundation of many of the greatest
reforms in modern legislation. Statistics are state facts, facts for
the consideration of statesmen, such as they may not neglect with
safety. It has been truly said that ‘statistics are history in
repose; history is statistics in motion.’ If we neglect the one, we
shall deserve to be neglected by the other. The legislator without
statistics is like the mariner at sea without the compass. Nothing
can safely be committed to his guidance. A question of fearful
importance, the well-being of this Republic, has agitated this House
for many weeks. It is this: Are our rich men growing richer, and our
poor growing poorer? And how can this most vital question be
settled, except by the most careful and honest examination of the
facts? Who can doubt that the next census will reveal to us more
important truths concerning the situation of our people than any
census ever taken by any nation? By what standard could we measure
the value of a complete, perfect record of the condition of the
people of this country, and such facts as should exhibit their
burdens and their strength? Who doubts that it would be a document
of inestimable value to the legislator and the nation? How to
achieve it, how to accomplish it, is the great question.
“We are near the end of a decade that has been full of earthquakes,
and amid the tumult we have lost our reckoning. We do not yet
comprehend the stupendous changes through which we have passed, nor
can we until the whole field is resurveyed. If a thousand volcanoes
had been bursting beneath the ocean, the mariner would need new
charts before he could safely sail the seas again. We are soon to
set out on our next decade with a thousand new elements thrown in
upon us by the war. The way is trackless. Who shall pilot us? The
war repealed a part of our venerable census law. One schedule was
devoted to slaves. Thank God! it is useless now. Old things have
passed away, and a multitude of new things are to be here recorded;
and not only the things to be taken, but the manner of taking them,
requires a thorough remodeling at our hands. If this Congress does
not worthily meet the demands of this great occasion, every member
must bear no small share of the odium that justly attaches to men
who fail to discharge duties of momentous importance, which once
neglected can never be performed.”
On December 16, 1867, General Garfield made a second speech on the
subject, so elaborate and remarkable, so unlike any thing to be found
elsewhere in all the annals of the American Congress, that we yield
large space to it. The latter part of the speech relates to the defects
of the old law, and the advantages of the proposed new one:
“The modern census is so closely related to the science of
statistics that no general discussion of it is possible without
considering the principles on which statistical science rests and
the objects which it proposes to reach.
“The science of statistics is of recent date, and, like many of its
sister sciences, owes its origin to the best and freest impulses of
modern civilization. The enumerations of inhabitants and the
appraisements of property made by some of the nations of antiquity
were practical means employed sometimes to distribute political
power, but more frequently to adjust the burdens of war, but no
attempt was made among them to classify the facts obtained so as to
make them the basis of scientific induction. The thought of studying
these facts to ascertain the wants of society had not then dawned
upon the human mind, and, of course, there was not a science of
statistics in this modern sense.
“It is never easy to fix the precise date of the birth of any
science, but we may safely say that statistics did not enter its
scientific phase before 1749, when it received from Professor
Achenwall, of Göttingen, not only its name, but the first
comprehensive statement of its principles. Without pausing to trace
the stages of its growth, some of the results of the cultivation of
statistics in the spirit and methods of science may be stated as
germane to this discussion:
“1. It has developed the truth that society is an organism, whose
elements and forces conform to laws as constant and pervasive as
those which govern the material universe; and that the study of
these laws will enable man to ameliorate his condition, to
emancipate himself from the cruel dominion of superstition, and from
countless evils which were once thought beyond his control, and will
make him the master rather than the slave of nature. Mankind have
been slow to believe that order reigns in the universe—that the
world is a cosmos and not a chaos.
“The assertion of the reign of law has been stubbornly resisted at
every step. The divinities of heathen superstition still linger in
one form or another in the faith of the ignorant, and even
intelligent men shrink from the contemplation of one supreme will
acting regularly, not fortuitously, through laws beautiful and
simple rather than through a fitful and capricious system of
intervention.
“Lecky tells us that in the early ages it was believed that the
motion of the heavenly bodies, as well as atmospheric changes, was
affected by angels. In the Talmud, a special angel was assigned to
every star and every element, and similar notions were general
throughout the Middle Ages.
“The scientific spirit has cast out the demons, and presented us
with nature clothed and in her right mind and living under the reign
of law. It has given us, for the sorceries of the alchemist, the
beautiful laws of chemistry; for the dreams of the astrologer, the
sublime truths of astronomy; for the wild visions of cosmogony, the
monumental records of geology; for the anarchy of diabolism, the
laws of God. But more stubborn still has been the resistance against
every attempt to assert the reign of law in the realm of society. In
that struggle, statistics has been the handmaid of science, and has
poured a flood of light upon the dark questions of famine and
pestilence, ignorance and crime, disease and death.
“We no longer hope to predict the career and destiny of a human
being by studying the conjunction of planets that presided at his
birth. We study rather the laws of life within him, and the elements
and forces of nature and society around him. We no longer attribute
the untimely death of infants wholly to the sin of Adam, for we know
it is the result of bad nursing and ignorance. We are beginning to
acknowledge that—
“‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.’
Governments are only beginning to recognize these truths.
“In 1853 the Presbytery of Edinburgh petitioned the British ministry
to appoint a day of national fasting and prayer, in order to stay
the ravages of cholera in Scotland. Lord Palmerston, the Home
Secretary, replied in a letter which a century before no British
statesman would have dared to write. He told the clergy of Scotland
that: ‘The plague being already upon them, activity was preferable
to humiliation; that the causes of disease should be removed by
improving the abodes of the poor, and cleansing them from those
sources of contagion which would infallibly breed pestilence and be
fruitful in death in spite of all the prayers and fastings of a
united but inactive nation.’ Henry Thomas Buckle expressed the
belief that this letter will be quoted in future ages as a striking
illustration of the progress of enlightened public opinion. But that
further progress is possible is seen in the fact that within the
last three years an English bishop has attributed the rinderpest to
the Oxford essays and the writings of Colenso.
“In these remarks I disclaim any reference to the dominion of the
Creator over his spiritual universe, and the high and sacred duty of
all his intelligent creatures to reverence and worship him. I speak
solely of those laws that relate to the physical, intellectual, and
social life of man.
“2. The development of statistics is causing history to be
rewritten. Till recently the historian studied nations in the
aggregate, and gave us only the story of princes, dynasties, sieges,
and battles. Of the people themselves—the great social body with
life, growth, sources, elements, and laws of its own—he told us
nothing. Now statistical inquiry leads him into the hovels, homes,
workshops, mines, fields, prisons, hospitals, and all places where
human nature displays its weakness and its strength. In these
explorations he discovers the seeds of national growth and decay,
and thus becomes the prophet of his generation.
“Without the aid of statistics, that most masterly chapter of human
history, the third of Macaulay’s first volume, could never have been
written.
“3. Statistical science is indispensable to modern statesmanship. In
legislation as in physical science it is beginning to be understood
that we can control terrestrial forces only by obeying their laws.
The legislator must formulate in his statues not only the national
will, but also those great laws of social life revealed by
statistics. He must study society rather than black-letter learning.
He must learn the truth ‘that society usually prepares the crime,
and the criminal is only the instrument that accomplishes it;’ that
statesmanship consists rather in removing causes than in punishing
or evading results.
“Light is itself a great corrective. A thousand wrongs and abuses
that grow in the darkness disappear like owls and bats before the
light of day. For example, who can doubt that before many months the
press of this country will burn down the whipping-posts of Delaware
as effectually as the mirrors of Archimedes burned the Roman ships
in the harbor of Syracuse?
“I know of no writer who has exhibited the importance of this
science to statesmanship so fully and so ably as Sir George Cornwall
Lewis, in his treatise _On the Methods of Observation and Reasoning
on Politics_.
“After showing that politics is now taking its place among the
sciences, and as a science its superstructure rests on observed and
classified facts, he says of the registration of political facts,
which consists of history and statistics, that ‘it may be considered
as the entrance and propylæa to politics. It furnishes the materials
upon which the artificer operates, which he hews into shape and
builds up into a symmetrical structure.’
“In a subsequent chapter, he portrays the importance of statistics
to the practical statesman in this strong and lucid language:
“‘He can hardly take a single safe step without consulting them.
Whether he be framing a plan of finance, or considering the
operation of an existing tax, or following the variations of trade,
or studying the public health, or examining the effects of a
criminal law, his conclusions ought to be guided by statistical
data.’—Vol. i, p. 134.
“Napoleon, with that wonderful vision vouchsafed to genius, saw the
importance of this science when he said:
“‘Statistics is the budget of things; and without a budget there is
no public safety.’
“We may not, perhaps, go as far as Goethe did, and declare that
‘figures govern the world;’ but we can fully agree with him that
‘they show how it is governed.’
“Baron Quetelet, of Belgium, one of the ripest scholars and
profoundest students of statistical science, concludes his latest
chapter of scientific results in these words:
“‘One of the principal results of civilization is to reduce more and
more the limits within which the different elements of society
fluctuate. The more intelligence increases the more these limits are
reduced, and the nearer we approach the beautiful and the good. The
perfectibility of the human species results as a necessary
consequence of all our researches. Physical defects and
monstrosities are gradually disappearing; the frequency and severity
of diseases are resisted more successfully by the progress of
medical science; the moral qualities of man are proving themselves
not less capable of improvement; and the more we advance, the less
we shall have need to fear those great political convulsions and
wars and their attendant results, which are the scourges of
mankind.’
“It should be added that the growing importance of political
science, as well as its recent origin, is exhibited in the fact that
nearly every modern nation has established within the last half
century a bureau of general statistics for the uses of statesmanship
and science. In the thirty states of Europe they are now assiduously
cultivating the science. Not one of their central bureaus was fully
organized before the year 1800.
“The chief instrument of American statistics is the census, which
should accomplish a two-fold object. It should serve the country by
making a full and accurate exhibit of the elements of national life
and strength, and it should serve the science of statistics by so
exhibiting general results that they may be compared with similar
data obtained by other nations.
“In the light of its national uses and its relations to social
science, let us consider the origin and development of the American
census.
“During the colonial period, several enumerations of the inhabitants
of the Colonies were made by the order of the British Board of
Trade; but no general concerted attempt was made to take a census
until after the opening of the Revolutionary War. As illustrating
the practical difficulty of census-taking at that time, a passage in
a letter, written in 1715 to the Lords of Trade, by Hunter, the
colonial governor of New York, may be interesting:
“‘The superstition of this people is so unsurmountable that I
believe I shall never be able to obtain a complete list of the
number of inhabitants of this province.’—_New York Colonial MSS._,
vol. v, p. 459.
“He then suggests a computation, based upon returns of militia and
of freemen, afterward the women and children, and then the servants
and slaves.
“William Burnet, colonial governor of New Jersey, to the Lords of
Trade, June 26, 1726, after mentioning returns made in 1723, says:
“‘I would have then ordered the like accounts to be taken in New
Jersey, but I was advised it might make the people uneasy, they
being generally of a New England extraction, and thereby
enthusiasts; and that they would take it for a repetition of the
same sin that David committed in numbering the people, and might
bring on the like judgments. This notion put me off from it at the
time, but since your lordships desire it, I will give the orders to
the sheriffs, that it may be done as soon as may be.’
“That this sentiment has not wholly disappeared, may be seen from
the following: At a public meeting held on the evening of November
12, 1867, in this city, pending the taking of the census of the
District of Columbia by the Department of Education and the
municipal authorities, a speaker, whose name is given in the
reported proceedings, said:
“‘I regard the whole matter as illegal. Taking the census is an
important matter. In the Bible we are told David ordered Joab to
take the census when he had no authority to do so, and Joab was
punished for it.’ He thought these parties, the Metropolitan police,
should be enjoined from asking questions, and he advised those who
had not returned the blank, not to fill it up or answer a single
question.
“As early as 1775 the Continental Congress resolved that certain of
the burdens of the war should be distributed among the Colonies,
‘according to the number of inhabitants of all ages, including
negroes and mulattoes, in each colony;’ and also recommended to the
several colonial conventions, councils, or committees of safety, to
ascertain the number of inhabitants in each colony, and to make
returns to Congress as soon as possible. Such responses as were made
to this recommendation, were probably of no great value, and are
almost wholly lost.
“The Articles of Confederation, as reported by John Dickinson, in
July, 1776, provided for a triennial enumeration of the inhabitants
of the States, such enumeration to be the basis of adjusting the
‘charges of war and all other expenses that should be incurred for
the common defense or general welfare.’ The eighth of the articles,
as they were finally adopted, provided that these charges and
expenses should be defrayed out of a common treasury, to be supplied
by the several States in ‘proportion to the value of land within
each State granted to or surveyed for any person; and such land and
the buildings and improvements thereon shall be estimated according
to such mode as the United States, in Congress assembled, shall from
time to time direct and appoint.’
“The ninth article gave Congress the authority ‘to agree upon the
numbers of land forces, and to make requisitions from each of its
quota in proportion to the number of white inhabitants in such
State.’ These articles, unquestionably contemplated a national
census, to include a valuation of land and an enumeration of
population, but they led to no substantial results. When the blanks
in the revenue report of 1783 were filled, the committee reported
that they had been compelled to estimate the population of all the
States except New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and
Maryland.
“The next step is to the Constitutional Convention of 1787. The
charter of Government, framed by that body, provided for a national
census to be taken decennially. Moreau de Jonnés, a distinguished
French writer on statistics, in his ‘Elements de Statistique,’
refers to the constitutional provision in the following elevated
language:
“‘The United States presents in its history a phenomenon which has
no parallel. It is that of a people who instituted the statistics of
their country on the very day when they formed their Government, and
who regulated in the same instrument the census of their citizens,
their civil and political rights, and the destinies of the country.’
“De Jonnés considers the American census the more remarkable because
it was instituted at so early a date by a people very jealous of
their liberties; and he gives emphasis to his statement by referring
to the heavy penalties imposed by the first law of Congress to carry
these provisions into effect.
“It must be confessed, however, that the American founders looked
only to practical ends. A careful search through the ‘Madison
Papers’ has failed to show that any member of the Convention
considered the census in its scientific bearings. But they gave us
an instrument by which those ends can be reached. ‘They builded
wiser than they knew.’
“In pursuance of the requirements of the Constitution, an act
providing for an enumeration of the inhabitants of the United States
was passed March 1, 1790.
“As illustrating the growth of the American census, it is worth
observing that the report of the first census was an octavo pamphlet
of fifty-two pages, and that of 1800, a folio of seventy-eight
pages.
“On the 23d of January, 1800, a memorial of the American
Philosophical Society, signed by Thomas Jefferson as its President,
was laid before the Senate. In this remarkable paper, written in the
spirit and interest of science, the memorialists prayed that the
sphere of the census might be greatly extended; but it does not
appear to have made any impression on the Senate, for no trace of it
is found in the annals of Congress.
[Illustration: THE CAPITOL AT WASHINGTON.—THE SCENE OF GARFIELD’S
LABORS FOR SIXTEEN YEARS.]
“The results attained by the first six censuses were meager for the
purposes of science. That of 1790 embraced population only, its
single schedule containing six inquiries. That of 1800 had only a
population schedule with fourteen inquiries. In 1810, an attempt was
made to superadd statistics of manufactures, but the results were of
no value. In 1820 the statistics of manufactures were again
worthless. In 1830 the attempt to take them was abandoned. In 1840
there were schedules of population and manufactures, and some
inquiries relating to education and employment.
“The law of May 23, 1850, under which the seventh and eighth
censuses were taken, marks an important era in the history of
American statistics. This law owes many of its wisest provisions and
much of the success of its execution to Mr. Joseph C. G. Kennedy,
under whose intelligent superintendence the chief work of the last
census was accomplished. This law marks the transition of the
American census from the merely practical to the scientific phase.
The system thus originated needs correction to make it conform to
the later results of statistical science and to the wants of the
American people. Nevertheless, it deserves the high commendations
passed upon it by some of the most eminent statisticians and
publicists of the Old World.”
In continuing his speech, General Garfield considered the defects in the
method of taking the census. Among the many improvements suggested are
the following:
“The war has left us so many mutilated men, that a record should be
made of those who have lost a limb or have been otherwise disabled,
and the committee have added an inquiry to show the state of public
health and the prevalence of some of the principal diseases. Dr.
Jarvis, of Massachusetts, one of the highest living authorities on
vital statistics, in a masterly paper presented to the committee,
urged the importance of measuring as accurately as possible the
effective physical strength of the people.
“It is not generally known how large a proportion of each nation is
wholly or partially unfitted by physical disability for
self-support. The statistics of France show that, in 1851, in a
population of less than thirty-six millions, the deaf, dumb, blind,
deformed, idiotic, and those otherwise mutilated or disabled,
amounted to almost two millions. We thus see that in a country of
the highest civilization the effective strength of its population is
reduced one-eighteenth by physical defects. What general would
venture to conduct a campaign without ascertaining the physical
qualities of his soldiers as well as the number on his rolls? In
this great industrial battle, which this nation is now fighting, we
ought to take every available means to ascertain the effective
strength of the country.”
Farther on he says:
“An inquiry was also added in regard to dwellings, so as to exhibit
the several principal materials for construction, as wood, brick,
stone, etc., and the value of each. Few things indicate more fully
the condition of the people than the houses they occupy. The average
home is not an imperfect picture of the wealth, comfort, refinement,
and civilization of the average citizen.”
The next paragraph is devoted to the question of determining the number
of voters. The Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution reduced a
State’s representation in Congress to the measure of its votes. This was
thought at the time to refer merely to the States where negroes were not
allowed to vote, but Garfield found that in all the States, there were
_eighty restrictions in the right to vote, besides color_ and crime,
ranging all the way from residence to education and character.
Under the topic of agricultural products, he said:
“It is believed that the schedule thus amended will enable us to
ascertain the elements of those wonderful forces which have made our
country the granary of the civilized world; will exhibit also the
defects of our agricultural methods, and stimulate our farmers to
adopt those means which have doubled the agricultural products of
England since the days of the Stuarts, and have more than doubled
the comforts of her people. The extent of that great progress can be
seen in such facts as these: that ‘in the reign of Henry VII. fresh
meat was never eaten even by the gentleman attendant on a great
earl, except during the short interval between midsummer and
Michaelmas,’ because no adequate means were known of fattening
cattle in the winter, or even of preventing the death of one-fifth
of their whole number each year; that Catharine, queen of Charles
II. sent to Flanders for her salad, which the wretched gardening of
England did not sufficiently provide.”
Under the head of corporation statistics, he makes the following
significant statement:
“Now that the great question of human slavery is removed from the
arena of American politics, I am persuaded that the next great
question to be confronted, _will be that of corporations, and their
relation to the interests of the people and to the national life.
The fear is now entertained by many of our best men, that the
National and State legislatures of the Union, in creating these vast
corporations, have evoked a spirit which may escape and defy their
control and which may wield a power greater than legislatures
themselves._ The rapidity with which railroad corporations have been
consolidated and placed within the power of a few men, during the
past year, is not the least alarming manifestation of this power.
Without here discussing the right of Congress to legislate on all
the matters suggested in this direction, the committee have provided
in this bill to arm the census office with the power to demand from
these corporations a statement of the elements of which they are
composed and an exhibit of their transactions.”
The learning, the philosophic and advanced views, the masterly grouping
of social phenomena throughout this speech are absolutely novel and
unique in the wilderness of Congressional oratory. After all the wealth
of industry and thought expended on the subject, the bill failed to pass
the Senate, so that the ninth census had to be taken under the old law.
The body of the bill, however, eventually became the law under which the
unequaled census of 1880 was taken.
As we advance through the multitude of General Garfield’s congressional
speeches, selecting here and there some typical extract, his report on
“Black Friday” attracts attention. Every one remembers the gold panic of
September 24, 1869. It was the greatest financial conspiracy known to
history. Wall Street, the scene of innumerable frauds, snares,
conspiracies, and panics, never saw any thing to compare with the
historic “Black Friday.” The House of Representatives appointed the
Committee of Banking and Currency of which General Garfield had been
made chairman at the opening of the Forty-First Congress, to investigate
the causes of that financial convulsion. He went to New York, _incog._,
managed to get into the private room of the Gold Board, where the matter
was undergoing a secret investigation. Here General Garfield made notes,
and got his clue. When he could stay no longer, he left a clever
substitute. Each witness was attached as he left the building and
hurried down to Washington before he could be primed. General Garfield’s
examination of the witnesses was adroit and successful. The taciturn and
self-poised Gould, the wily and exuberant Jim Fisk, alike were compelled
to lay open the full details of the scheme. General Garfield’s report,
made March 1,1870, goes to the bottom of this the darkest conspiracy
ever planned. It reads like a novel, and contains the material for a
whole library of fiction. Some idea of the foul plot may be had from the
following summary and extracts:
BLACK FRIDAY.
“On the first of September, 1868, the price of gold was one hundred
and forty-five. During the autumn and winter it continued to
decline, interrupted only by occasional fluctuations, till in March,
1869, it touched one hundred and thirty and one-fourth (its lowest
point for three years), and continued near that rate until the
middle of April, the earliest period to which the evidence taken by
the committee refers. At that time, Mr. Jay Gould, president of the
Erie Railroad Company, bought seven millions of gold, and put up the
price from one hundred and thirty-two to one hundred and forty.
Other brokers followed his example, and by the twentieth of May had
put up the price to one hundred and forty-four and seven-eighths,
from which point, in spite of speculation, it continued to decline,
and on the last day of July stood at one hundred and thirty-six.
“The first indication of a concerted movement on the part of those
who were prominent in the panic of September was an effort to secure
the appointment of some person who should be subservient to their
schemes, as Assistant Treasurer at New York, in place of Mr. H. H.
Van Dyck, who resigned in the month of June. In this effort Mr.
Gould and Mr. A. R. Corbin, a brother-in-law of President Grant,
appear to have been closely and intimately connected. If the
testimony of the witnesses is to be believed, Mr. Corbin suggested
the name of his stepson-in-law, Robert B. Catherwood, and Mr. Gould
joined in the suggestion.
“On what grounds Mr. Catherwood declined to be a candidate does not
appear. The parties next turned their attention to General
Butterfield, and, both before and after his appointment, claimed to
be his supporters. Gould and Catherwood testify that Corbin claimed
to have secured the appointment, though Corbin swears that he made
no recommendation in the case. General Butterfield was appointed
Assistant Treasurer, and entered upon the duties of that office on
the first of July. It is, however, proper to state that the
committee has no evidence that General Butterfield was in any way
cognizant of the corrupt schemes which led the conspirators to
desire his appointment, nor that their recommendations had any
weight in securing it. In addition to these efforts, the
conspirators resolved to discover, if possible, the purposes of the
President and the Secretary of the Treasury in regard to the sales
of gold. The first attempt in this direction, as exhibited in the
evidence, was made on the 15th of June, when the President was on
board one of Messrs. Fisk and Gould’s Fall River steamers, on his
way to Boston. At nine o’clock in the evening, supper was served on
board, and the presence at the table of such men as Cyrus W. Field,
with several leading citizens of New York and Boston, was sufficient
to prevent any suspicion that this occasion was to be used for the
benefit of private speculation; but the testimony of Fisk and Gould
indicates clearly the purpose they had in view. Fisk says:
“‘On our passage over to Boston with General Grant, we endeavored to
ascertain what his position in regard to finances was. We went down
to supper about nine o’clock, intending, while we were there, to
have this thing pretty thoroughly talked up, and, if possible, to
relieve him from any idea of putting the price of gold down.’”
“Mr. Gould’s account is as follows:
“‘At this supper the question came up about the state of the
country, the crops, prospects ahead, etc. The President was a
listener; the other gentlemen were discussing; some were in favor of
Boutwell’s selling gold, and some opposed to it. After they had all
interchanged views, some one asked the President what his view was.
He remarked that he thought there was a certain amount of
fictitiousness about the prosperity of the country, and that the
bubble might as well be tapped in one way as another. We supposed,
from that conversation, that the President was a contractionist. His
remark struck across us like a wet blanket.’
“It appears that these skillfully-contrived efforts elicited from
the President but one remark, and this opened a gloomy prospect for
the speculators. Upon their return to New York, Fisk and Gould
determined to bring a great pressure upon the administration, to
prevent, if possible, a further decline in gold, which would
certainly interfere with their purposes of speculation. This was to
be effected by facts and arguments presented in the name of the
country and its business interests; and a financial theory was
agreed upon, which, on its face, would appeal to the business
interests of the country, and enlist in its support many patriotic
citizens, but would, if adopted, incidentally enable the
conspirators to make their speculations eminently successful. That
theory was, that the business interests of the country required an
advance in the price of gold; that, in order to move the fall crops
and secure the foreign market for our grain, it was necessary that
gold should be put up to 145. According to Mr. Jay Gould, this
theory, for the benefit of American trade and commerce, was
suggested by Mr. James McHenry, a prominent English financier, who
furnished Mr. Gould the data with which to advocate it.”
This plan was tried vigorously. Hired newspapers filled their editorial
pages with arguments. Every mail brought pamphlets, papers, memorials,
arguments, etc., to the silent President. Wherever he turned, some one
was at hand to pour into his ear a plea for the poor country. If the
Government would sell no gold, the conspirators would have the market in
their own hands. Men having contracts to furnish gold would have to buy
of them at any price. There was no word from Grant, but the conspirators
continued to buy up gold. Gould took in a partner:
“Fisk was told that Corbin had enlisted the interests of persons
high in authority, that the President, Mrs. Grant, General Porter,
and General Butterfield were corruptly interested in the movement,
and that the Secretary of the Treasury had been forbidden to sell
gold. Though these declarations were wickedly false, as the evidence
abundantly shows, yet the compounded villainy presented by Gould and
Corbin was too tempting a bait for Fisk to resist. He joined the
movement at once, and brought to its aid all the force of his
magnetic and infectious enthusiasm. The malign influence which
Catiline wielded over the reckless and abandoned youth of Rome,
finds a fitting parallel in the power which Fisk carried into Wall
Street, when, followed by the thugs of Erie and the debauchees of
the Opera House, he swept into the gold-room and defied both the
Street and the Treasury. Indeed, the whole gold movement is not an
unworthy copy of that great conspiracy to lay Rome in ashes and
deluge its streets in blood, for the purpose of enriching those who
were to apply the torch and wield the dagger.
“With the great revenue of the Erie Railway Company at their
command, and having converted the Tenth National Bank into a
manufactory of certified checks to be used as cash at their
pleasure, they terrified all opponents by the gigantic power of
their combination, and amazed and dazzled the dissolute gamblers of
Wall Street by declaring that they had in league with them the chief
officers of the National Government.
“They gradually pushed the price of gold from one hundred and
thirty-five and one-half, where it stood on the morning of the
thirteenth of September, until, on the evening of Wednesday, the
twenty-second, they held it firm at one hundred and forty and
one-half.
“The conspirators had bought sixty millions of gold up to that date.
Every thing depended on Grant’s preventing the sale of gold by the
Treasury. Brother-in-law Corbin was to manage that. Every cent
advance in gold added $15,000 to Corbin’s profit. On the 17th, it
was determined to have Corbin write a long letter to the President.
“The letter contained no reference to the private speculation of
Corbin, but urged the President not to interfere in the fight then
going on between the bulls and bears, nor to allow the Secretary of
the Treasury to do so by any sales of gold. The letter also repeated
the old arguments in regard to transportation of the crops.
“While Corbin was writing it, Gould called upon Fisk to furnish his
most faithful servant to carry the letter. W. O. Chapin was
designated as the messenger, and early on the following morning went
to Mr. Corbin’s house and received it, together with a note to
General Porter. He was instructed to proceed with all possible
haste, and telegraph Fisk as soon as the letter was delivered. He
reached Pittsburgh a little after midnight, and, proceeding at once
by carriage to Washington, Pennsylvania, thirty miles distant,
delivered the letter to the President, and, after waiting some time,
asked if there was any answer. The President told him there was no
answer, and he hurried away to the nearest telegraph office and sent
to Mr. Fisk this dispatch: ‘Letters delivered all right,’ and then
returned to New York. Mr. Fisk appears to have interpreted the ‘all
right’ of the dispatch as an answer to the doctrine of the Corbin
letter, and says he proceeded in his enormous purchases upon that
supposition. This letter, which Corbin had led his co-conspirators
to trust as their safeguard against interference from Mr. Boutwell,
finally proved their ruin. Its effect was the very reverse of what
they anticipated. The letter would have been like hundreds of other
letters received by the President, if it had not been for the fact
that it was sent by a special messenger from New York to Washington,
Pennsylvania, the messenger having to take a carriage and ride some
twenty-eight miles from Pittsburgh. This letter, sent in that way,
urging a certain policy on the administration, taken in connection
with some rumors that had got into the newspapers at that time as to
Mr. Corbin’s having become a great bull in gold, excited the
President’s suspicions, and he believed that Mr. Corbin must have a
pecuniary interest in those speculations; that he was not actuated
simply by a desire to see a certain policy carried out for the
benefit of the administration. Feeling in that way, he suggested to
Mrs. Grant to say, in a letter she was writing to Mrs. Corbin, that
rumors had reached her that Mr. Corbin was connected with
speculators in New York, and that she hoped that if this was so he
would disengage himself from them at once; that he (the President)
was very much distressed at such rumors. She wrote a letter that
evening. It was received in New York on the evening of Wednesday,
the twenty-second. Late that night Mr. Gould called at Corbin’s
house. Corbin disclosed the contents of the letter, and they sat
down to consider its significance. This letter created the utmost
alarm in the minds of both of these conspirators. The picture of
these two men that night, as presented in the evidence, is a
remarkable one. Shut up in the library, near midnight, Corbin was
bending over the table and straining with dim eyes to decipher and
read the contents of a letter, written in pencil, to his wife, while
the great gold gambler, looking over his shoulder, caught with his
sharper vision every word.”
Corbin tried to get Gould to buy him out, so as to tell the President he
had no interest in the market. Gould, too, plotted to save himself by
ruining his co-conspirators. They held a meeting. Gould secretly sold to
Fisk and his associates. The latter, of course, had no idea that it was
Gould they were buying out. The meeting resolved to force gold up to 160
on the next day (“Black Friday”), publish a list of all firms who had
contracts to furnish gold, offer to settle with them at the price named
before three o’clock, but threatening higher prices to all who delayed:
“While this desperate work was going on in New York, its alarming
and ruinous effects were reaching and paralyzing the business of the
whole country, and carrying terror and ruin to thousands. Business
men everywhere, from Boston to San Francisco, read disaster in every
new bulletin. The price of gold fluctuated so rapidly that the
telegraphic indicators could not keep pace with its movement. The
complicated mechanism of these indicators is moved by the electric
current carried over telegraphic wires directly from the gold-room,
and it is in evidence that in many instances these wires were melted
or burned off in the efforts of the operators to keep up with the
news.
“The President returned from Pennsylvania to Washington on Thursday,
the twenty-third, and that evening had a consultation with the
Secretary of the Treasury concerning the condition of the gold
market. The testimony of Mr. Boutwell shows that both the President
and himself concurred in the opinion that they should, if possible,
avoid any interference on the part of the Government in a contest
where both parties were struggling for private gain; but both agreed
that if the price of gold should be forced still higher, so as to
threaten a general financial panic, it would be their duty to
interfere and protect the business interests of the country. The
next morning the price advanced rapidly, and telegrams poured into
Washington from all parts of the country, exhibiting the general
alarm, and urging the Government to interfere, and, if possible,
prevent a financial crisis.”
At 11:42 A. M. came the crack of doom.
TREASURY DEPARTMENT, September 24, 1869.
“_Daniel Butterfield, Assistant Treasurer, United States, New York_:
“Sell four millions (4,000,000) gold to-morrow, and buy four
millions (4,000,000) bonds.
GEORGE S. BOUTWELL, Sec’y Treasury.
“Charge to Department. Sent 11:42 A. M.”
“Within the space of fifteen minutes the price fell from one hundred
and sixty to one hundred and thirty-three, and in the language of
one of the witnesses, half of Wall Street was involved in ruin.
“It was not without difficulty that the conspirators escaped from
the fury of their victims and took refuge in their up-town
stronghold—the office of the Erie Railroad Company.
“During the day and morning previous, the conspirators had succeeded
in forcing many settlements at rates ruinous to their victims.”
On March 14, 1870, General Garfield spoke on the subject of the civil
service. The speech abounded in details, and was pointed with references
to classes of salaries which were too high. On April 1st of the same
session, he delivered a great speech on the tariff question. It was
characterized by its conservative avoidance of extremes, and will stand
as the best expression of modern scholarship, practical statesmanship on
this most important public question. It is probable that there can
nowhere be found an argument on the subject of the tariff which more
nearly approaches perfect legislative wisdom.
In 1870, the total amount of national bank circulation being limited by
law to $300,000,000 and largely absorbed in the East, a cry arose in the
South and West against this injustice. General Garfield drew up and
presented a bill which became a law, increasing the limit $54,000,000,
and providing for the cancellation of the surplus of notes in States
having more than their quota, as fast as the Southern and Western
States, having less than their quota, organized national banks and
commenced to issue currency. It was a just measure, and was exactly in
the line of future legislation, but the Western and Southern States had
no capital to invest for banking purposes, and consequently availed
themselves but slightly of the opportunity. The measure, however, was of
a character to allay public clamor, demonstrate the folly of the outcry
against the existing law, and facilitate the progress toward resumption.
It was the forerunner of the law, removing all limit to national bank
circulation, and making the volume of the currency adjustable to the
demand. General Garfield’s great speech on the bill, delivered June 7,
1870, has been the inexhaustible quiver from which most of the arrows of
financial discussion have since been drawn by all smaller marksmen. A
second speech on the same subject on June 15th, was but little its
inferior.
The last day of the Forty-First Congress witnessed a remarkable attempt
of the Senate to encroach upon the constitutional prerogative of the
House to originate all bills for raising revenues, the claim being that
the measure was one to _reduce_ revenue instead of _raising_ it. It was
a bill to abolish the income tax. Garfield favored the reduction, but an
encroachment which might become a dangerous precedent had to be
resisted. His argument covered the vast field of the history of the
House of Commons, the debates of the Constitutional Convention, and the
precedents of Congress. His conclusions were:
_First._—That the exclusive right of the House of Commons of Great
Britain to originate money bills, is so old that the date of its
origin is unknown; it has always been regarded as one of the
strongest bulwarks of British freedom against usurpation of the King
and of the House of Lords, and has been guarded with the most
jealous care; that in the many contests which have arisen on this
subject between the Lords and Commons, during the last three hundred
years, the Commons have never given way, but have rather enlarged
than diminished their jurisdiction of this subject; and that since
the year 1678, the Lords have conceded, with scarcely a struggle,
that the Commons had the exclusive right to originate, not only
bills for raising revenue, but for decreasing it; not only for
imposing, but also for repealing taxes; and that the same exclusive
right extended also to all general appropriations of money.
_Second._—The clause of our Constitution, now under debate, was
borrowed from this feature of the British Constitution, and was
intended to have the same force and effect in all respects as the
corresponding clause of the British Constitution, with this single
exception, that our Senate is permitted to offer amendments, as the
House of Lords is not.
_Third._—In addition to the influence of the British example, was
the further fact, that this clause was placed in our Constitution to
counterbalance some special privileges granted to the Senate. It was
the compensating weight thrown into the scale to make the two
branches of Congress equal in authority and power. It was first put
into the Constitution to compensate the large States for the
advantages given to the small States in allowing them an equal
representation in the Senate; and, when subsequently it was thrown
out of the original draft, it came near unhinging the whole plan.
“It was reinserted in the last great compromise of the Constitution,
to offset the exclusive right of the Senate to ratify treaties,
confirm appointments, and try impeachments. The construction given
to it by the members of the Constitutional Convention, is the same
which this House now contends for. The same construction was
asserted broadly and fully, by the First Congress, many of the
members of which were framers of the Constitution. It has been
asserted again and again, in the various Congresses, from the First
till now; and, though the Senate has often attempted to invade this
privilege of the House, yet in no instance has the House surrendered
its right whenever that right has been openly challenged; and,
finally, whenever a contest has arisen, many leading Senators have
sustained the right of the House as now contended for.
* * * * *
“Again, if the Senate may throw their whole weight, political and
moral, into the scale in favor of the repeal or reduction of one
class of taxes, they may thereby compel the House to originate
bills, to impose new taxes, or increase old ones to make up the
deficiency caused by the repeal begun in the Senate, and thus
accomplish by indirection, what the Constitution plainly prohibits.
What Mr. Seward said in 1856, of the encroachment of the Senate, is
still more strikingly true to-day.
“The tendency of the Senate is constantly to encroach,—not only upon
the jurisdiction of the House, but upon the rights of the Chief
Executive of the nation. The power of confirming appointments is
rapidly becoming a means by which the Senate dictates appointments.
The Constitution gives to the President the initiative in
appointments, as it gives to the House the initiative in revenue
legislation. Evidences are not wanting that both these rights are
every year subjected to new invasions. If, in the past, the
Executive has been compelled to give way to the pressure, and has,
in some degree yielded his constitutional rights, it is all the more
necessary that this House stand firm, and yield no jot or tittle of
that great right intrusted to us for the protection of the people.”
This speech was absolutely conclusive on the question, and must take its
place with all the immortal arguments and efforts put forth in the past
to preserve the rights of the popular branch of national legislature.
February 20, 1871, General Garfield delivered a powerful speech against
the McGarraghan claim, one of the many jobs of which Congress was the
victim.
General Garfield was by this time recognized as the highest authority on
the intricate subjects of finance, revenue, and expenditure, in the
House. It will be seen that these topics fall within the general head of
political economy, “the dismal science.” Of these he was the
acknowledged master. Accordingly, at the beginning of the Forty-Second
Congress, in 1871, Garfield was made chairman of the Committee of
Appropriations. It is probable that in this capacity he never had an
equal. Something must be said of his work.
In order to master the great subject of public expenditures, he studied
the history of those of European nations. He read the “budget speeches”
of the English chancellors of the exchequer for a long period. He
refreshed his German, and studied French, in order to read the best
works in the world on the subjects, the highest authorities being in
those languages. He examined the British and French appropriations for a
long period. After an exhaustive study of the history of foreign
nations, he commenced with our own country at the time of the
Revolution. Charles Sumner was the greatest reader, and had the longest
book list at the Congressional Library of any man in Washington. The
library records show that General Garfield’s list was next to Sumner’s,
being but slightly below it. After Sumner’s death, the man who was
second became first. This gathering of facts was followed by wide
inductions. National expenditures were found by him to be subject to a
law as fixed as that of gravitation. There was a proportion between
population, area of country, and the necessary outlay for public
expenses, which was fixed. Any thing beyond this was waste. No covering
could hide official robbery from the reach of such a detective as the
establishment of this law. Every miscreant left a tell-tale track.
The results of his studies were embodied in an elaborate speech on
January 22, 1872, in the introduction of his appropriation bill. The
close study of political economy, however, did not divert him from other
questions. He kept himself thoroughly versed on every question of public
importance and was always equal to every demand.
On April 4, 1871, he delivered a speech in opposition to a Republican
bill for the enforcement of the Fourteenth Amendment. At the time it
brought down upon him the censure of his party. But he was firm. There
could be no doubt of his loyalty to the nation, and his distrust of the
malignant South. But he was too conservative for the war leaders and
politicians. A compromise was effected, with which, however, his
opponents were much dissatisfied.
Another notable speech was made on the bill to establish an educational
fund from the proceeds of the sale of public lands. The speech abounded
in citations from English, French, and German authorities on the subject
of education. One doctrine enunciated was that matters of education
belong to the State governments, not to the nation; that Congress made
no claim to interfere in the method, but only to assist in the work.
In the summer of 1872, General Garfield undertook a delicate mission to
the Flat-Head Indians. Their removal was required by the Government. But
the noble red man refused to stir an inch from his ancestral
hunting-grounds. Garfield’s mission was to be the last pacific effort.
He was successful when the department had given up hope in any resource
but war.
On his return from the West, General Garfield found the Credit Mobilier
scandal looming up like a cyclone in the Congressional sky. Living a
life of study, research, and thought, of spotless character and the
purest intention, he was inexpressibly pained. A private letter of
December 31, 1872, to his bosom friend Hinsdale, is indicative of his
feelings:
“The Credit Mobilier scandal has given me much pain. As I told you
last fall, I feared it would turn and that the company itself was a
bad thing. So I think it will, and perhaps some members of Congress
were conscientiously parties to its plans. It has been a new form of
trial for me to see my name flying the rounds of the press in
connection with the basest of crimes. It is not enough for one to
know that his heart and motives have been pure and true, if he is
not sure but that good men here and there, who do not know him, will
set him down among the lowest men of doubtful morality. There is
nothing in my relation to the case for which the tenderest
conscience of the most scrupulous honor can blame me. It is
fortunate that I never fully concluded to accept the offer made me;
but it grieves me greatly to have been negotiating with a man who
had so little sense of truth and honor as to use his proposals for a
purpose in a way now apparent to me. I shall go before the
committee, and in due time before the House, with a full statement
of all that is essential to the case, so far as I am concerned. You
and I are now nearly in middle life, and have not yet become soured
and shriveled with the wear and tear of life. Let us pray to be
delivered from that condition where life and nature have no fresh,
sweet sensations for us.”
His correspondence at this time with President Hinsdale, in which he
uncovers his secret heart, is full of expressions of disgust with
politics, “where ten years of honest toil goes for naught in the face of
one vote,” as he says. Once he declares: “Were it not for the Credit
Mobilier, I believe I would resign.” How plainly his character appears
in the following little extract:
“You know that I have always said that my whole public life was an
experiment to determine whether an intelligent people would sustain
a man in acting sensibly on each proposition that arose, and in
doing nothing for mere show or for demagogical effect. I do not now
remember that I ever cast a vote of that latter sort. Perhaps it is
true that the demagogue will succeed when honorable statesmanship
will fail. If so, public life is the hollowest of all shams.”
In another letter to Colonel Rockwell, he speaks from his heart:
“I think of you as away, and in an elysium of quiet and peace, where
I should love to be, out of the storm and in the sunshine of love
and books. Do not think from the above that I am despondent. There
is life and hope and fight in your old friend yet.”
It is hardly possible to understand the tortures which his sensitive
nature underwent at this time. To an honest man the worst pain comes
from the poisoned dagger of mistrust. At a later day, General Garfield
was to make his defense to his constituents.
During this plague of heart and brain, there was no remission of the
enormous activity in the chosen field of finance, revenue, and
expenditure. But we can only plant foot upon the mountain peaks as we
pass over the Alps of General Garfield’s Congressional labors. March 5,
1874, he delivered another great speech on “Revenues and Public
Expenditures.”
On April 8, 1874, the first great “inflation” bill, by which the effects
of the terrible panic of 1873 were to be relieved or cured, came up for
discussion. General Garfield exhausted history in his opposition to the
bill. It must be remembered that his constituents were clamoring for the
passage of this bill which was to make money plenty. Taking his
political life in his hand, he fought it with all his power. As in 1866,
1868, 1869, 1870, and 1871, so, in 1874, he said that “next to the great
achievements of the nation in putting down the rebellion, destroying its
cause, and reuniting the Republic on the principle of liberty and equal
rights to all, is the task of paying the fabulous expenses of the war,
the funding of the debt, the maintenance of public credit, and the
launching of the nation on its career of prosperity.” The speech
contains citations of authority against inflation and irredeemable paper
currency from John Stuart Mill, Benjamin Franklin, R. H. Lee,
Washington, Adams, Peletiah Webster, Alexander Hamilton, Jefferson,
Madison, Webster, Gonge, Calhoun, and Chase. The reader will remember
that the measure passed the House and the Senate by overwhelming
majorities, but was struck dead by the veto of President Grant.
On June 23, 1874, General Garfield spoke at length on the subject of
appropriations for the year. In this address, as in all others upon this
topic, he handled figures and statistics with the greatest skill and
familiarity. The House had come to rely upon his annual speech on this
subject for its information on the expenses of the Government.
Almost at the same time he delivered a speech on the Railway Problem.
The pending question was upon making certain appropriations for River,
Harbor, and Canal Surveys, as a preliminary to cheaper transportation.
General Garfield endeavored to have a similar commission organized on
the Railway question. He felt that any investigation of cheap
transportation was lame which did not include “the greatest of our
modern means of transportation, the Railway.” We quote a part of his
discussion, which must be of interest to every reader:
THE RAILWAY PROBLEM.
“We are so involved in the events and movements of society that we
do not stop to realize—what is undeniably true—that during the last
forty years all modern societies have entered upon a period of
change, more marked, more pervading, more radical than any that has
occurred during the last three hundred years. In saying this, I do
not forget our own political and military history, nor the French
Revolution of 1793. The changes now taking place have been wrought,
and are being wrought, mainly, almost wholly, by a single mechanical
contrivance, the steam locomotive. There are many persons now living
who well remember the day when Andrew Jackson, after four weeks of
toilsome travel from his home in Tennessee, reached Washington and
took his first oath of office as President of the United States. On
that day, the railway locomotive did not exist. During that year,
Henry Clay was struggling to make his name immortal by linking it
with the then vast project of building a national road—a
turnpike—from the national capital to the banks of the Mississippi.
“In the autumn of that very year George Stephenson ran his first
experimental locomotive, the ‘Rocket,’ from Manchester to Liverpool
and back. The rumble of its wheels, redoubled a million times, is
echoing to-day on every continent.
“In 1870, there were about 125,000 miles of railroad on the two
hemispheres, constructed at a cost of little less than $100,000 per
mile, and representing nearly $12,000,000,000 of invested capital.
“A parliamentary commission found that during the year 1866 the
railway cars of Great Britain carried an average of 850,000
passengers per day; and during that year the work done by their
8,125 locomotives would have required for its performance three and
a half million horses and nearly two million men.
“What have our people done for the locomotive, and what has it done
for us? To the United States, with its vast territorial area, the
railroad was a vital necessity.
“Talleyrand once said to the first Napoleon that ‘the United States
was a giant without bones.’ Since that time our gristle has been
rapidly hardening. Sixty-seven thousand miles of iron track is a
tolerable skeleton, even for a giant. When this new power appeared,
our people everywhere felt the necessity of setting it to work; and
individuals, cities, States, and the nation lavished their resources
without stint to make a pathway for it. Fortunes were sunk under
almost every mile of our earlier roads in the effort to capture and
utilize this new power. If the State did not head the subscription
for a new road, it usually came to the rescue before the work was
completed.
“The lands given by the States and by the national Government to aid
in the construction of railroads, reach an aggregate of nearly two
hundred and fifty million acres—a territory equal to nine times the
area of Ohio. With these vast resources we have made paths for the
steam giant; and to-day nearly a quarter of a million of our
business and working men are in his immediate service. Such a power
naturally attracts to its enterprise the brightest and strongest
intellects. It would be difficult to find in any other profession so
large a proportion of men possessed of a high order of business
ability as those who construct, manage, and operate our railroads.
“The American people have done much for the locomotive; and it has
done much for them. We have already seen that it has greatly
reduced, if not wholly destroyed, the danger that the Government
will fall to pieces by its own weight. The railroad has not only
brought our people and their industries together, but it has carried
civilization into the wilderness, has built up States and
Territories, which but for its power would have remained deserts for
a century to come. ‘Abroad and at home,’ as Mr. Adams tersely
declares, ‘it has equally nationalized people and cosmopolized
nations.’ It has played a most important part in the recent movement
for the unification and preservation of nations.
“It enabled us to do what the old military science had pronounced
impossible—to conquer a revolted population of eleven millions,
occupying a territory one-fifth as large as the continent of Europe.
In an able essay on the railway system, Mr. Charles F. Adams, Jr.,
has pointed out some of the remarkable achievements of the railroad
in our recent history. For example, a single railroad track enabled
Sherman to maintain eighty thousand fighting men three hundred miles
beyond his base of supplies. Another line, in a space of seven days,
brought a reinforcement of two fully-equipped army corps around a
circuit of thirteen hundred miles, to strengthen an army at a
threatened point. He calls attention to the still more striking fact
that for ten years past, with fifteen hundred millions of our
indebtedness abroad, an enormous debt at home, unparalleled public
expenditures, and a depreciated paper currency, in defiance of all
past experience, we have been steadily conquering our difficulties,
have escaped the predicted collapse, and are promptly meeting our
engagements; because, through energetic railroad development, the
country has been producing real wealth, as no country has produced
it before. Finally, he sums up the case by declaring that the
locomotive has ‘dragged the country through its difficulties in
spite of itself.’
“In discussing this theme, we must not make an indiscriminate attack
upon corporations. The corporation limited to its proper uses is one
of the most valuable of the many useful creations of law. One class
of corporations has played a most important and conspicuous part in
securing the liberties of mankind. It was the municipal
corporations—the free cities and chartered towns—that preserved and
developed the spirit of freedom during the darkness of the Middle
Ages, and powerfully aided in the overthrow of the feudal system.
The charters of London and of the lesser cities and towns of England
made the most effective resistance to the tyranny of Charles II. and
the judicial savagery of Jeffries. The spirit of the free town and
the chartered colony taught our own fathers how to win their
independence. The New England township was the political unit which
formed the basis of most of our states.
“This class of corporations have been most useful, and almost always
safe, because they have been kept constantly within the control of
the community for whose benefit they were created. The State has
never surrendered the power of amending their charters.
“Under the name of private corporations organizations have grown up,
not for the perpetuation of a great charity, like a college or
hospital, not to enable a company of citizens more conveniently to
carry on a private industry, but a class of corporations unknown to
the early law writers has arisen, and to them have been committed
the vast powers of the railroad and the telegraph, the great
instruments by which modern communities live, move, and have their
being.
“Since the dawn of history, the great thoroughfares have belonged to
the people, have been known as the king’s highways or the public
highways, and have been open to the free use of all, on payment of a
small uniform tax or toll to keep them in repair. But now the most
perfect and by far the most important roads known to mankind are
owned and managed as private property by a comparatively small
number of private citizens.
“In all its uses the railroad is the most public of all our roads;
and in all the objects to which its work relates, the railway
corporation is as public as any organization can be. But in the
start it was labeled a private corporation; and, so far as its legal
status is concerned, it is now grouped with eleemosynary
institutions and private charities, and enjoys similar immunities
and exemptions. It remains to be seen how long the community will
suffer itself to be the victim of an abstract definition.
“It will be readily conceded that a corporation is strictly and
really private when it is authorized to carry on such a business as
a private citizen may carry on. But when the State has delegated to
a corporation the sovereign right of eminent domain, the right to
take from the private citizen, without his consent, a portion of his
real estate, to build its structure across farm, garden, and lawn,
into and through, over or under, the blocks, squares, streets,
churches, and dwellings of incorporated cities and towns, across
navigable rivers, and over and along public highways, it requires a
stretch of the common imagination and much refinement and subtlety
of the law to maintain the old fiction that such an organization is
not a public corporation.
“In view of the facts already set forth, the question returns, what
is likely to be the effect of railway and other similar combinations
upon our community and our political institutions? Is it true, as
asserted by the British writer quoted above, that the state must
soon recapture and control the railroads, or be captured and
subjugated by them? Or do the phenomena we are witnessing indicate
that general breaking-up of the social and political order of modern
nations so confidently predicted by a class of philosophers whose
opinions have hitherto made but little impression on the public
mind?
“The analogy between the industrial condition of society at the
present time and the feudalism of the Middle Ages is both striking
and instructive.
“In the darkness and chaos of that period the feudal system was the
first important step toward the organization of modern nations.
Powerful chiefs and barons intrenched themselves in castles, and in
return for submission and service gave to their vassals rude
protection and ruder laws. But as the feudal chiefs grew in power
and wealth they became the oppressors of their people, taxed and
robbed them at will, and finally in their arrogance, defied the
kings and emperors of the mediæval states. From their castles,
planted on the great thoroughfares, they practiced the most
capricious extortions on commerce and travel, and thus gave to
modern language the phrase, ‘levy black-mail.’
“The consolidation of our great industrial and commercial companies,
the power they wield and the relations they sustain to the state and
to the industry of the people, do not fall far short of Fourier’s
definition of commercial or industrial feudalism. The modern barons,
more powerful than their military prototypes, own our greatest
highways and levy tribute at will upon all our vast industries. And
as the old feudalism was finally controlled and subordinated only by
the combined efforts of the kings and the people of the free cities
and towns, so our modern feudalism can be subordinated to the public
good only by the great body of the people, acting through the
government by wise and just laws.
“I shall not now enter upon the discussion of methods by which this
grand work of adjustment may be accomplished. But I refuse to
believe that the genius and energy which have developed these
tremendous forces will fail to make them, not the masters, but the
faithful servants of society.”
This chapter has so far been devoted to General Garfield’s public life
during this period. One would think that what has been recounted
occupied all his time and powers. Not so. With his political and
financial studies he kept up his literary life. On June 29, 1869, he
delivered an oration, before the Commercial College in Washington City,
on the “Elements of Success.” We select a few thought-flowers from the
blooming garden of the address. At the outset he said:
“I feel a profounder reverence for a boy than a man. I never meet a
ragged boy on the street without feeling that I owe him a salute,
for I know not what possibilities may be buttoned up under his
shabby coat. When I meet you in the full flush of mature life, I see
nearly all there is of you; but among these boys are the great men
of the future—the heroes of the next generation, the philosophers,
the statesmen, the philanthropists, the great reformers and molders
of the next age. Therefore, I say, there is a peculiar charm to me
in the exhibitions of young people engaged in the business of
education.”...
Speaking of the modern college curriculum, he said:
“The prevailing system was established at a time when the learning
of the world was in Latin and Greek; when, if a man would learn
arithmetic, he must first learn Latin; and if he would learn the
history and geography of his own country, he could acquire that
knowledge only through the Latin language. Of course, in those days
it was necessary to lay the foundation of learning in a knowledge of
the learned languages. The universities of Europe, from which our
colleges were copied, were founded before the modern languages were
born. The leading languages of Europe are scarcely six hundred years
old. The reasons for a course of study then are not good now. The
old necessities have passed away. We now have strong and noble
living languages, rich in literature, replete with high and earnest
thought,—the language of science, religion, and liberty,—and yet we
bid our children feed their spirits on the life of dead ages,
instead of the inspiring life and vigor of our own times.
“The present Chancellor of the British Exchequer, the Right
Honorable Robert Lowe, one of the brightest minds in that kingdom,
said, in a recent address before the venerable University of
Edinburgh: ‘I was a few months ago in Paris, and two graduates of
Oxford went with me to get our dinner at a restaurant, and if the
white-aproned waiter had not been better educated than all three of
us, we might have starved to death. We could not ask for our dinner
in his language, but fortunately he could ask us in our own language
what we wanted.’ There was one test of the insufficiency of modern
education....
“Let me beg you, in the outset of your career, to dismiss from your
minds all idea of succeeding by luck. There is no more common
thought among young people than that foolish one that by-and-by
something will turn up by which they will suddenly achieve fame or
fortune. No, young gentlemen; things don’t turn up in this world
unless somebody turns them up. Inertia is one of the indispensable
laws of matter, and things lie flat where they are until by some
intelligent spirit (for nothing but spirit makes motion in this
world) they are endowed with activity and life. Luck is an _ignis
fatuus_. You may follow it to ruin, but not to success. The great
Napoleon, who believed in his destiny, followed it until he saw his
star go down in blackest night, when the Old Guard perished round
him, and Waterloo was lost. A pound of pluck is worth a ton of
luck....
“Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can testify; but nine times out of
ten the best thing that can happen to a young man is to be tossed
overboard, and compelled to sink or swim for himself. In all my
acquaintance I have never known one to be drowned who was worth
saving. This would not be wholly true in any country but one of
political equality like ours. The editor of one of the leading
magazines of England told me, not many months ago, a fact startling
enough in itself, but of great significance to a poor man. He told
me that he had never yet known, in all his experience, a single boy
of the class of farm-laborers (not those who own farms, but mere
farm-laborers) who had ever risen above his class. Boys from the
manufacturing and commercial classes had risen frequently, but from
the farm-labor class he had never known one.
“The reason is this: in the aristocracies of the Old World, wealth
and society are built up like the strata of rock which compose the
crust of the earth. If a boy be born in the lowest stratum of life,
it is almost impossible for him to rise through this hard crust into
the higher ranks; but in this country it is not so. The strata of
our society resembles rather the ocean, where every drop, even the
lowest, is free to mingle with all others, and may shine at last on
the crest of the highest wave.”
His correspondence is full of glimpses of literary life. At one time he
breaks into glee over a new book. At another he solemnly urges the
necessity of his friend Hinsdale and himself mastering French and
German. Again he sighs for more time to read, and, with the reader’s
inconsistency, gives an elaborate criticism of some book he had just
finished. Once he says:
“I can’t see that John Stuart Mill ever came to comprehend human
life as a reality from the actual course of human affairs beginning
with Greek life down to our own. Men and women were always, with
him, more or less of the nature of abstractions; while, with his
enormous mass of books, he learned a wonderful power of analysis,
for which he was by nature surprisingly fitted. But his education
was narrow just where his own mind was originally deficient. He was
educated solely through books; for his father was never a companion.
His brothers and sisters bored him. He had no playfellows, _and of
his mother not a word is said in his autobiography_.”
The last fact mentioned must have seemed remarkable to Garfield. In
another letter, he says:
“Permit me to transcribe a metrical version which I made the other
day of the third ode of Horace’s first book. It is still in the
rough.”
And then he actually gives a full translation of the poem: “To the Ship
which carried Virgil to Athens.” At the close, he naively says: “I can
better most of the verses.” Every peep of his private life has an
exquisite charm. It perpetually surprises one with its frankness, its
simplicity, and artless affection. In Homer’s _Iliad_, the great Hector,
clad in dazzling armor and helmet, stoops to kiss his child before going
forth to mortal combat. But the child drew back, afraid of his strange
and terrible aspect. Swiftly the father removed the panoply of war, and
then stooped to the child to be received with outstretched arms. In the
fierce arena of debate we see Garfield clad with the stern helmet and
buckler of battle. But in his private life he laid aside the armor, and
stood forth in all the beauty of a grand, simple, and affectionate
nature.
During the period covered by this chapter his home remained at Hiram,
Ohio, where he spent his vacations from Congress. Here he lived in a
very modest manner, keeping neither carriage nor horse, and borrowing or
hiring when he desired to be conveyed to the railroad station, four
miles off.
Mr. Frederick E. Warren, an attorney of Cincinnati, Ohio, was a student
at Hiram College from 1869 to 1875. During this time he became
acquainted with General Garfield. Of his impressions and acquaintance he
furnishes a vivacious narrative. He says:
“General Garfield’s return home was always an event with the college
boys, by whom he was greatly admired and beloved. My earliest
impressions of him, as he came one morning striding up the old plank
walk that stretched across the college campus, realized all that I
had heard spoken of him as to his appearance and bearing. Even God
had seemed to set his seal upon him, ‘to give the world assurance of
a _man_.’ Subsequent acquaintance merely ripened this impression.
None of us required a formal introduction to him. The boys and he
instinctively knew each other. He took the stranger cordially by the
hand, gave him a kindly and encouraging word, and made him feel at
once that he was his _friend_, and you may rest assured that the boy
was forever _his_.
“We learned much from the General’s ‘talks,’ as he styled them.
Whenever at home, he regularly attended the chapel exercises each
morning. As soon as the religious services were concluded, he
invariably was called upon to say something; to give us a ‘talk.’ He
never failed to respond. His remarks were usually brief, but
delightfully instructive, and there was a freshness and novelty
which characterized them that I have never met with in any other
public speaker or teacher.
“On one occasion, when going to chapel, he saw a horse-shoe lying at
the side of the path, which he picked up, and carried along with
him. After prayer, when asked, as usual, to say something to us (I
must sorrowfully confess that a majority of the boys were impatient
of prayers when the General was about), he produced the horse-shoe,
and proceeded to explain its history and use from the remotest
period, in so entertaining a manner that I am sure that no one who
was present has ever forgotten it. At another time he delivered a
similar off-hand lecture upon the hammer, suggested by one he had
found somewhere about the college premises. In all he said to the
students he was eminently practical, and it seemed to us that he
could convey more information in fifteen minutes’ talk than the
combined faculty could have done in an hour.
“The general effect of these frequent brief discourses can readily
be imagined. The more thoughtful vacated the playground, and
gathered in groups about the boarding places, to discuss some
question of interest suggested by the General, or retired to their
rooms for reading and reflection upon the subject, inspired with a
renewed love of knowledge, and desire for improvement.
“His application to business and study was extraordinary. It
appeared to make no difference at what hour of the day or night one
called upon him, he would be found in his library at work. If there
was a ‘night owl’ _par excellence_ in Hiram College from the winter
of 1869 until the winter of 1875, it was myself, yet however late
the hour I retired might be, I had but to look three doors westward
to see the light still burning in General Garfield’s window, and he
was nearly always up with the sun. It was often asked if he ever
slept.
“_Apropos_ of this, I am able to recall a very agreeable incident,
and one highly characteristic of the man. I was reading late one
night Momssen’s ‘History of Rome,’ and several times came across the
word ‘symmachy,’ which I failed to find in the English dictionary.
Somewhat puzzled with its frequent recurrence, and seeing that the
General was still up, I decided, although it was two o’clock in the
morning, to call upon him for the meaning of the word. I found him
hard at work, and after excusing myself for the interruption,
explained the object of my unseasonable visit. He immediately
replied: ‘It is coined from the Greek, a frequent practice with
Momssen;’ and taking from a book-case a Greek lexicon, he quickly
furnished me with the information I was in quest of. He then
insisted upon my sitting down, and for a couple of hours entertained
me with an account of a recent trip to Europe.
“Leaving this topic, he returned to Momssen, whom he pronounced
eccentric and tedious, and indulged in a lengthy and learned
comparison between him and Niebuhr.
“I noticed upon his shelves a copy of Bryant’s translation of Homer.
He complained that the book-seller had sent him an imperfect copy,
there being one hundred and ninety lines at the beginning of the
first volume omitted through the carelessness of the binder. He
repeated some of the omitted lines, and spoke of them in terms of
high critical eulogy. It was quite daylight before he allowed me to
depart.
“The General was very peculiar in the discipline of his children.
One evening an agent for a Babcock Fire Extinguisher was exhibiting
the machine on a pile of lighted tarred boxes, on the public square,
in the presence of a large crowd, among them General Garfield and
his little son Jim, who is a chip off the old block, as the saying
is. A gentleman accidentally stepped on the boy’s foot. He did not
yell, as most boys might have done under such a pressure, but
savagely sprang at the gentleman and dealt him a blow with his fist
somewhere in the region of the abdomen, about as high as he could
reach. The father observed it, and immediately had the crowd open
and ordered the fireman to turn the hose upon Jim, which was done,
and the boy was extinguished in less than a minute.
“When he was in Washington, and we wanted—as frequently happened—any
public documents or any facts to aid us in our society debates,
which were not accessible from any other source, all we had to do
was to write to the General for them, and it was flattering to us
how promptly he complied with these requests.
“While apparently of the most amiable temper, he taught us the duty
of self-defense, and the right to resist aggression. He was not by
any means a non-combatant, and when aroused must have borne some
resemblance to an enraged lion. I understand he entered the war as a
soldier with extraordinary zeal, and the country knows with what
gallantry he fought its battles. He was naturally a belligerent, but
discipline, the habitual practice of self-command, and a strong
religious sense, enabled him to keep this warlike disposition under
perfect control. He was an excellent boxer and fencer, a good shot
with both rifle and pistol, and took a lively interest in all manly
exercises. He was a skillful croquet player, and enlivened the game
with constant conversation, which made it a most agreeable pastime
to the other players and lookers on.”
Can biography anywhere present a more simple, manly nature? Is there a
better sign of it than to be beloved by college boys?
In Washington, up to 1869, he boarded a part of the time, and lived in a
rented house for the remainder. In that year he built the comfortable
residence on the corner of Thirteenth and I Streets, opposite Franklin
Square, which he continued to occupy till his election to the
Presidency. The whole house overflowed with books, but the library was
the most characteristic room. General Garfield’s reading was in special
fields of investigation. At one time he explored and studied the entire
subject of Goethe and his contemporaries and critics. Horace was also
the subject of enormous study. Of all that he read he made elaborate
notes. He made a whole library of scrap books, all perfectly indexed.
The habit was begun on his first entrance into public life. These were
supplemented by prodigious diaries. Probably no man ever left such a
complete record of his intellectual life upon paper. In addition to all
this, he kept a series of labeled drawers, in which were filed away
newspaper cuttings, items, pamphlets, and documents. This collection was
most carefully classified and indexed by subjects. It is easy to see why
Garfield was known as the best posted and readiest man in Congress. His
marvelous memory and splendid system enabled him, on short notice, to
open the drawer containing all the material on almost any subject, and
equip himself in an hour for battle. No encyclopedia could compare in
value with this collection to its owner. It made Garfield absolutely
terrible in debate. A charge would be made, a historical reference
indicated by some poorly-posted antagonist; at the next session Garfield
was on hand with the documents to overwhelm his opponent.
Among the many literary and other miscellaneous addresses delivered
during this period, was one of November 25, 1870, before the Army of the
Cumberland, on the “Life and Character of George H. Thomas,” and one on
“The Future of the Republic,” delivered July 2d, 1873, before the
students of Hudson College. From the former we give extracts, although
to give any thing less than the entire address is spoliation. As an
argument defending Thomas from Robert E. Lee’s charge of disloyalty, it
is overwhelming. Garfield loved Thomas as a brother; and with the dead
hero for a theme, the orator rose to the loftiest heights. Among his
opening remarks were the following:
“There are now living not less than two hundred thousand men who
served under the eye of General Thomas; who saw him in sunshine and
storm—on the march, in the fight, and on the field when the victory
had been won. Enshrined in the hearts of all these, are enduring
images and most precious memories of their commander and friend. Who
shall collect and unite into one worthy picture, the bold outlines,
the innumerable lights and shadows which make up the life and
character of our great leader? Who shall condense into a single hour
the record of a life which forms so large a chapter of the Nation’s
history, and whose fame fills and overfills a hemisphere? No line
can be omitted, no false stroke made, no imperfect sketching done,
which you, his soldiers, will not instantly detect and deplore. I
know that each of you here present sees him in memory at this
moment, as we often saw him in life; erect and strong, like a tower
of solid masonry; his broad, square shoulders and massive head; his
abundant hair and full beard of light brown, sprinkled with silver;
his broad forehead, full face, and features that would appear
colossal, but for their perfect harmony of proportion; his clear
complexion, with just enough color to assure you of robust health
and a well-regulated life; his face lighted up by an eye which was
cold gray to his enemies, but warm, deep blue to his friends; not a
man of iron, but of live oak. His attitude, form, and features, all
assured you of inflexible firmness, of inexpugnable strength; while
his welcoming smile set every feature aglow with a kindness that won
your manliest affection. If thus in memory you see his form and
features, even more vividly do you remember the qualities of his
mind and heart. His body was the fitting type of his intellect and
character; and you saw both his intellect and character tried, again
and again, in the fiery furnace of war, and by other tests not less
searching. Thus, comrades, you see him; and your memories supply a
thousand details which complete and adorn the picture.”
In closing what might be called more particularly the biographical
portion of the address he said:
“Thomas’s life is a notable illustration of the virtue and power of
hard work; and in the last analysis the power to do hard work is
only another name for talent. Professor Church, one of his
instructors at West Point, says of his student life, that ‘he never
allowed any thing to escape a thorough examination, and left nothing
behind that he did not fully comprehend.’ And so it was in the army.
To him a battle was neither an earthquake nor a volcano, nor a chaos
of brave men and frantic horses, involved in vast explosions of
gunpowder. It was rather a calm, rational concentration of force
against force. It was a question of lines and positions; of weight
of metal and strength of battalions. He knew that the elements and
forces which bring victory are not created on the battle-field, but
must be patiently elaborated in the quiet of the camp, by the
perfect organization and outfit of his army. His remark to a captain
of artillery, while inspecting a battery, is worth remembering, for
it exhibits his theory of success: ‘Keep every thing in order, for
the fate of a battle may turn on a buckle or a linch-pin.’ He
understood so thoroughly the condition of his army, and its
equipment, that when the hour of trial came, he knew how great a
pressure it could stand, and how hard a blow it could strike.
“His character was as grand and as simple as a colossal pillar of
chiseled granite. Every step of his career as a soldier was marked
by the most loyal and unhesitating obedience to law—to the laws of
his government and to the commands of his superiors. The obedience
which he rendered to those above him he rigidly required of those
under his command.
“His influence over his troops grew steadily and constantly. He won
his ascendancy over them, neither by artifice nor by any one act of
special daring, but he gradually filled them with his own spirit,
until their confidence in him knew no bounds. His power as a
commander was developed slowly and silently; not like volcanic land
lifted from the sea by sudden and violent upheaval, but rather like
a coral island, where each increment is a growth—an act of life and
work.
“Power exhibits itself under two distinct forms—strength and
force—each possessing peculiar qualities, and each perfect in its
own sphere. Strength is typified by the oak, the rock, the mountain.
Force embodies itself in the cataract, the tempest, the thunderbolt.
The great tragic poet of Greece, in describing the punishment of
Prometheus for rebellion against Jupiter, represented Vulcan
descending from heaven, attended by two mighty spirits, Strength and
Force, by whose aid he held and bound Prometheus to the rock.
“In subduing our great rebellion, the Republic called to its aid men
who represented many forms of great excellence and power. A very few
of our commanders possessed more force than Thomas—more genius for
planning and executing bold and daring enterprises; but, in my
judgment, no other was so complete in embodiment and incarnation of
strength—the strength that resists, maintains, and endures. His
power was not that of the cataract which leaps in fury down the
chasm, but rather that of the river, broad and deep, whose current
is steady, silent, and irresistible.”
From the peroration the following is taken:
“The language applied to the Iron Duke, by the historian of the
Peninsular War, might also be mistaken for a description of Thomas.
Napier says:
“‘He held his army in hand, keeping it, with unmitigated labor,
always in a fit state to march or to fight.... Sometimes he was
indebted to fortune, sometimes to his natural genius, always to his
untiring industry; for he was emphatically a painstaking man.’
“The language of Lord Brougham, addressed to Wellington, is a
fitting description of Thomas:
“‘Mighty captain! who never advanced except to cover his arms with
glory; mightier captain! who never retreated except to eclipse the
glory of his advance.’
“If I remember correctly, no enemy was ever able to fight Thomas out
of any position he undertook to hold.
“On the whole, I can not doubt that the most fitting parallel to
General Thomas is found in our greatest American, the man who was
‘first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
countrymen.’ The personal resemblance of General Thomas to
Washington was often the subject of remark. Even at West Point,
Rosecrans was accustomed to call him General Washington. He
resembled Washington in the gravity and dignity of his character; in
the solidity of his judgment; in the careful accuracy of all his
transactions; in his incorruptible integrity, and in his extreme,
but unaffected, modesty....
“But his career is ended. Struck dead at his post of duty, a
bereaved nation bore his honored dust across the continent and laid
it to rest on the banks of the Hudson, amidst the tears and grief of
millions. The nation stood at his grave as a mourner. No one knew
until he was dead how strong was his hold on the hearts of the
American people. Every citizen felt that a pillar of state had
fallen; that a great and true and pure man had passed from earth.
“There are no fitting words in which I may speak of the loss which
every member of this society has sustained in his death.
“The general of the army has beautifully said, in his order
announcing the death of Thomas:
“‘Though he leaves no child to bear his name, the _Old Army of the
Cumberland_, numbered by tens of thousands, called him father, and
will weep for him in tears of manly grief.’
“To us, his comrades, he has left the rich legacy of his friendship.
To his country and to mankind, he has left his character and his
fame as a priceless and everlasting possession.
“‘O iron nerve to true occasion true!
O fallen at length that tower of strength
Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew!’
... ‘His work is done;
But while the races of mankind endure,
Let his great example stand
Colossal seen of every land,
And keep the soldier firm, the statesman pure,
Till in all lands and through all human story,
The path of Duty be the way to Glory.’”
CHAPTER VIII.
THE NOONTIDE.
In troublous times when tides and winds blew high,
And one stood peerless in the public gaze,
A sentinel upon the battlements
Of state, the babbling miscreants said, Go to!
Let us assail him!
James Abram Garfield was an honest man. You could not have known him and
thought otherwise; you can not know the story of his life, and think him
ever dishonored. His character was as clear as crystal; truth illumined
his soul alway, and there the shadows of insincerity never fell.
Nevertheless, General Garfield could not escape the slime of the
mud-slingers. Charges were made against him which, if true, would have
made our Hyperion a degraded and filthy Satyr.
The time has come when Garfield’s character needs no defense. To-day the
whole world believes in him. When the hurricane came he boldly and
successfully vindicated himself. Then the people ratified his
declarations by their suffrages. Finally, History has set her great seal
upon the judgment in his favor.
The three principal accusations made against Mr. Garfield were in their
day known respectively as the _Credit Mobilier Steal_, the _Salary
Grab_, and the _De Gollyer Bribery_. A formidable array!
There was a time when the biographer of Garfield would have been forced
to devote a volume to these charges in order to refute them. Now a few
pages will suffice; and their chief purpose, indeed, must only be to
show how Garfield himself treated them.
The charges all came upon him at once. When elected to Congress in 1872,
for the sixth time, Garfield seemed to have a life estate in his office.
Before the next election came, it looked as if he never could be elected
again.
In the winter of 1872–3, came the Credit Mobilier exposure; early in
’73, followed the Salary Grab; and finally, in 1874, the De Gollyer
scandal appeared.
These troubles were met in the only way that could have succeeded, and
also in the only way possible to Garfield’s nature—openly and manfully.
Writing to his friend Hinsdale, he said: “The district is lost, and as
soon as I can close up affairs here I am coming home to capture it.”
While at Washington, in 1873, he prepared two exhaustive pamphlets—one
entitled “Review of the Transactions of the Credit Mobilier Company,”
and the other “The Increase of Salaries.” These papers, and the general
discussions which were going on at the same time, threw much light on
the subjects. But the opportunity was too good for politicians to lose,
and it was only after a desperate struggle that Mr. Garfield was
renominated and reëlected in 1874.
But the victory was gained, and from that time on the Reserve never
ceased to grow stronger, year by year, in faith in General Garfield.
Instead of a reproduction of the extensive literature on these subjects,
which political necessities alone occasioned, it will suffice here to
quote from a speech which in brief covered the whole field. This address
was made to his constituents, at Warren, O., on September 19, 1874.
September 19—anniversary of Chickamauga, and of the day of his death!
* * * * *
The reply proper began thus:
“There are three things which I propose to discuss; two of them may
hardly be said to refer to my public career, one of them directly to
my official work. The first one I refer to is my alleged connection
with
THE CREDIT MOBILIER.
“There is a large number of people in the United States who use
these words without any adequate idea of what they mean. I have no
doubt that a great many people feel about it very much as the
fishwoman at Billingsgate market felt when Sidney Smith, the great
humorist of England, came along and began to talk with her. She
answered back in a very saucy way, and he finally commenced to call
her mathematical names; he called her a parallelogram, a
hypothenuse, a parallelopipedon, and other such terms, and she stood
back aghast and said she never heard such a nasty talking man in her
life—never was abused so before. Now people think they have said an
enormous thing when they say that somebody had something to do with
the Credit Mobilier. I ask your attention just for a few moments to
what that thing is, and in the next place to understand precisely
what it is that I am supposed to have had to do with it.
“The Credit Mobilier was a corporation chartered in 1859 by the
State of Pennsylvania, and authorized to build houses, buy lands,
loan money, etc. Nothing of consequence was done with that company
until the year 1867, when a number of men bought up whatever stock
there was in it, and commenced to do a very large business. In the
winter of 1867, Mr. Train came to me and showed me a list of names
and subscribers to the stock of the Credit Mobilier Company, and
asked me to subscribe $1,000. I should say there were fifteen or
twenty members of Congress on the list, and many more prominent
business men. He said that the company was going to buy lands along
the lines of the Pacific Railroad at places where they thought
cities and villages would grow up, and to develop them, and he had
no doubt that the growth of the country would make that investment
double itself in a very short time.
“That was the alleged scheme that the Credit Mobilier Company had
undertaken—a thing that if there is any gentleman in Warren who
would feel any hesitancy in buying, it would be because he didn’t
believe in the growth of the country where the business was to be
done. That stock was offered to me as a plain business proposition,
with no intimation whatever that it was offered because the
subscribers were members of Congress, for it was offered to many
other people, and no better men lived than at least a large number
of the gentlemen to whom it was offered. Some of them took it at
once. Some men are cautious about making an investment; others are
quick to determine. To none of those men was any explanation made
that this Credit Mobilier Company was in any way connected with a
ring of seven men who owned the principal portion of the stock and
who had contracted with the directors of the Union Pacific road for
building six or seven hundred miles at an extravagant price, largely
above what the work was worth. That was a secret held only by those
seven men who owned the principal portion of the stock. It is now
understood that Mr. Oakes Ames, who was the center of the company of
seven men, sought to gain the friendship of fifteen or twenty
prominent Congressmen with the view of protecting himself and the
Pacific Railroad against any investigations which might be made; but
it was a necessary part of his plan not to divulge that purpose or
in any way to intimate to them that he might draw upon them for
favors.
“Long before any such purpose was realized, long before any
pressure came upon Mr. Ames, most of the men who had been invited
to purchase that stock had either declined to purchase or had
purchased and realized, or had purchased and sold out. But in
1872, in the midst of the Presidential campaign, an article was
published in the public journals charging that sixteen prominent
members of Congress—Senators and Representatives—had sold their
votes for money or stock; that they had accepted bribes. You
remember that I was running for Congress in this district at that
time. When that news came I was away in the Rocky Mountains. I
came home, and the first day after my arrival at Washington I
authorized to be published a statement concerning what I knew
about the Oakes Ames business. A great many people suppose now and
say—and it has been repeated a hundred times in this district, and
especially in this town during the last two weeks—that Mr.
Garfield hedged and denied any knowledge of the Credit Mobilier
business, until finally the investigation brought it out. I repeat
that immediately on my arrival in Washington I made a statement to
the correspondent of the Cincinnati _Gazette_, of which the
following is a copy:
“‘WASHINGTON, September 15, 1872.
“‘General Garfield, who has just arrived here from the Indian
country, has to-day the first opportunity of seeing the charges
connecting his name with receiving shares of the Credit Mobilier
from Oakes Ames. He authorizes the statement that he never
subscribed for a single share of the stock, and that he never
received or saw a share of it. When the company was first formed,
George Francis Train, then active in it, came to Washington and
exhibited a list of subscribers, of leading capitalists and some
members of Congress, to the stock of the company. The subscription
was described as a popular one of $1,000 cash. Train urged General
Garfield to subscribe on two occasions, and each time he declined.
Subsequently he was again informed that the list was nearly
completed, but that a chance remained for him to subscribe, when he
again declined, and to this day he has not subscribed for or
received any share of stock or bond of the company.’
“Now I want my audience to understand that in the midst of that
storm and tempest of accusation, and only a little while before the
election, I started it and let it go broadcast to the daily press,
that I did know something about the Credit Mobilier; that I had on
two occasions discussed the matter; that I had taken it into
consideration, and that finally I had declined to subscribe; that I
never had owned or held a share; had never seen a certificate of the
stock. Now, I am not asking you at this moment, to discuss the truth
of that statement, but only to say that I stated it long before
there was any investigation talked of; that I never dodged or evaded
or denied having knowledge on the subject, but at the first declared
plainly and finally what I did know about it.
“When Congress met, Speaker Blaine and the rest of us whose names
were concerned in it, at once, on the first morning of the session,
demanded a committee of investigation to go through with the whole
subject from beginning to end. I want those gentlemen who talk about
Mr. Garfield being got after by committees of investigation to know
that no investigation into any public affair has been held in the
last three years in Washington that I have not helped to organize
and bring about. [Applause.]
THE COMMITTEE OF INVESTIGATION.
“Now what was the investigation? You will remember that before the
investigation had gone far a feeling of alarm and excitement swept
over the whole country that has hardly been paralleled in American
history. Some men whose names were connected with the charges of the
Credit Mobilier matter, shocked at the terrible charge of bribery
thrown at them, in the hurry of the moment so far forgot themselves
as to give equivocal answers as to whether they knew any thing about
the matter or not, and the impression was made throughout the
country that most of them had denied that they knew any thing about
it. The fact was that the country was settling down to the belief
that the whole thing was a mere campaign slander, and had no
foundation in fact. Looking at the subject from this distance, I am
inclined to believe that the impression left upon the American mind
is that the faults of those who were charged with buying stock was
not that they did any thing wrong in reference to the stock, but
that afterwards they prevaricated, or lied about it. Now, without
discussing any body else, I call you to witness that I stated at
once what I knew about it the first time that I knew the thing was
going the rounds of the newspapers. When the committee of
investigation came to make up
THEIR REPORT
there was one thing in that report to which I personally took
exception, and only one. I understand that a gentleman occupied this
room a few nights ago who undertook to make the impression upon his
audience that Mr. Garfield was found guilty of some improper
relation with the Credit Mobilier. Let me read you a sentence or two
from that report. The committee say:
“Concerning the members to whom he had sold or offered to sell the
stock, the committee say that they ‘do not find that Mr. Ames, in
his negotiations with the persons above named, entered into any
detail of the relations between the Credit Mobilier Company and the
Union Pacific Company, or gave them any specific information as to
the amount of dividends they would be likely to receive further than
has been already stated, viz., that in some cases he had guaranteed
a profit of ten per cent.... They do not find as to the members of
the present House above named, that they were aware of the object of
Mr. Ames, or that they had any other purpose in taking this stock
than to make a profitable investment.... They have not been able to
find that any of these members of Congress have been affected in
their official action in consequence of interest in the Credit
Mobilier stock.... They do not find that either of the above-named
gentlemen, in contracting with Mr. Ames, had any corrupt motive or
purpose himself, or was aware that Mr. Ames had any. Nor did either
of them suppose he was guilty of any impropriety or even indelicacy
in becoming a purchaser of this stock.’ And, finally, ‘that the
committee find nothing in the conduct or motives of either of these
members in taking this stock, that calls for any recommendation by
the committee of the House.’ (See pp. viii, ix, x.)
“In Mr. Ames’s first testimony he names sixteen members of Congress
to whom he offered the stock, and says that eleven of them bought
it, but he sets Mr. Garfield down among the five who did not buy it.
“He says: ‘He (Garfield) did not pay for it or receive it.... He
never paid any money on that stock or received money on account of
it.’ Let me add that the last grant to the Union Pacific Railroad
was by the act of July, 1864, and that Oakes Ames had nothing to do
with the Credit Mobilier till more than two years after that date.
“The point to which I took exception to the report of the committee
was this: the report held that Mr. Ames and Mr. Garfield did agree
upon the purchase of the stock, and that Mr. Garfield received three
hundred and twenty-nine dollars on account of it. I insisted that
the evidence did not warrant that conclusion, and rose in my place
in the House, and announced that I should make that statement good
before the American public; that I held myself responsible to
demonstrate that the committee was wrong; that although they charged
me with no wrong, they still had made a mistake of fact, which was
against the evidence and an injustice to me. Soon after, I published
a pamphlet of twenty-eight pages, in which I carefully and
thoroughly reviewed all the testimony relating to me. I have now
stood before the American people, since the eighth day of May, 1873,
announcing that the following propositions were proven concerning
myself: that I had never agreed even to take the stock of Mr. Ames;
that I never subscribed for it, never did take it, never received
any dividends from it, and was never in any way made a beneficiary
by it. Seven thousand copies of that pamphlet have been distributed
through the United States. Almost every newspaper in the United
States has had a copy mailed to it. Every member of the Forty-Second
Congress—Democrat and Republican—had a copy, and there is not known
to me a man who, having read my review, has denied its
conclusiveness of those propositions after having read them. I have
seen no newspaper review of it that denies the conclusiveness of the
propositions. It is for these reasons that a great public journal,
the New York _Evening Post_, said a few days ago that on this point
‘General Garfield’s answer had been received by the American people
as satisfactory.’ [Applause.] If there is any gentleman in this
audience, who desires to ask any question concerning the Credit
Mobilier, I shall be glad to hear it. [No response.] If not, would
it not be about as well to modify the talk on that subject
hereafter? [Applause.]
“Now the next thing I shall mention is a question purely of official
conduct—and that is a subject which has grown threadbare in this
community, and yet I desire your attention to it for a few moments.
I refer to
THE INCREASE OF OFFICIAL SALARIES,
one year and a half ago. First, what are the accusations concerning
me?
“There are several citizens in this town who have signed their names
to statements in the newspapers during that discussion, declaring
that Mr. Garfield had committed a theft, a robbery; that, to use the
plain Saxon word, he was a thief,—that any man who took, or voted
for a retroactive increase of salary, was a thief. In one of these
articles it was argued in this wise: ‘If I hire a clerk in my bank
on a certain salary, and he, having the key to my safe, takes out
five hundred or five thousand dollars more than we agreed for, and
puts it in his pocket, it is simply theft or robbery. He happened to
have access to the funds, and he got hold of them; so did Congress.
You can’t gloss it over,’ says the writer, ‘it is robbery.’
“Now, fellow-citizens, I presume you will agree that you can wrong
even the devil himself, and that it is not right or manly to lie,
even about Satan. I take it for granted that we are far enough past
the passion of that period to talk plainly and coolly about the
increase of salaries.
“Now, in the first place, I say to-night, what I have said through
all this tempest that for a Congress to increase its own pay and
make it retroactive, is not theft, is not robbery, and you do
injustice to the truth when you call it so. There is ground enough
in which to denounce it without straining the truth. Now if Congress
can not fix its own salary, who can? The Constitution of your
country says, in unmistakable words, that ‘Senators and
Representatives shall receive a compensation, to be ascertained by
law, and paid out of the National Treasury.’ Nobody makes the law
but Congress. It was a very delicate business in the beginning, for
our fathers to make a law paying themselves money. They understood
it so, and when they sent the Constitution out to the several
States, the question was raised, whether it would not be better to
put a curb upon Congress in reference to their own pay; and in
several of the States suggestions were sent in. When the First
Congress met, James Madison offered seventeen amendments to the
Constitution; and, finally, Congress voted to send twelve of the
proposed amendments to the country: one of them was this: ‘No law
varying the compensation of the Senators or Representatives in
Congress shall take effect until an election has intervened.’ In
other words, the First Congress proposed that an amendment should be
made to the new Constitution, that no Congress could raise its own
pay, and make it retroactive. That was sent to the States for their
ratification. The States adopted ten of those amendments. Two, they
rejected; and this was one of the two. They said it should not be in
the Constitution. The reason given for its rejection, by one of the
wisest men of that time, was this. He said: ‘If we adopt it, this
may happen; one party will go into power in a new Congress, but,
just before the old Congress expires, the defeated party may pass a
law reducing the pay of Congressmen to ten cents a day.’
“It will never do thus to put one Congress into the power of
another, it would be an engine of wrong and injustice. For this
reason, our fathers refused to put into the Constitution a clause
that would prevent back pay. Now it will not do to say that a
provision that has been deliberately rejected from the Constitution,
is virtually there, and it will not do to say that it is just to
call it theft and robbery for Congress to do what it has plainly the
constitutional right to do. I use the word right in its legal sense.
“Now, take another step. I hold in my hand here, a record of all the
changes of pay that have been made since this Government was
founded, and in every case,—I am not arguing now that it is right at
all, I am only giving you a history of it—in every single instance
when Congress has raised its pay, it has raised it to take effect
from the first day of the session of the Congress. Six times
Congress has increased its own pay, and every time it made the pay
retroactive. I say again, I am not arguing that this was right and
proper; I am only arguing that it was lawful and constitutional to
do it. In 1856, the pay was raised, and was made retroactive, for a
year and four months, and the member of Congress from this district
threw the casting vote that made it a law. That act raised the pay
by a larger per cent. than the act of last Congress. Joshua R.
Giddings was the one-hundredth man that voted aye. Ninety-nine voted
no. Joshua R. Giddings’s vote the other way would have turned the
score against it. That vote gave back pay for a year and four
months. That vote gave Congress nine months’ back pay for a time
when members would not have been entitled to any thing whatever,
because, under the old law, they were paid only during the session.
What did this district do? Did it call him a thief and a robber? A
few weeks after that vote this district elected him to Congress for
the tenth time. Have the ethics of the world changed since 1856?
Would I be a thief and robber in 1873, if I had done what my
predecessor did in 1856? In 1866, the pay was raised; that time it
was put in the appropriation bill (a very important appropriation
bill), a bill giving bounties to soldiers. It passed through the
Senate and came to the House; there was a disagreement about it.
Senator Sherman, of Ohio, had charge of the bill in the Senate, and
voted against the increase of pay every time when it came up on its
own merits, but he was out-voted. Finally it went to a committee of
conference, and he was made chairman of the committee of conference.
The conference report between the two houses was made in favor of
the bill. Mr. Sherman brought in the report, saying when he brought
it in, that, he had been opposed to the increase of pay, but the
Senate had overruled him. He voted for the conference report, voted
for the final passage of the bill. That bill gave back pay for a
year and five months. Was John Sherman denounced as a thief and
robber for that? Was Benjamin F. Wade called a thief and robber?
“At that time I was not chairman of the committee, and had no other
responsibility than that of an individual representative. I voted
against the increase of salary then; at all stages I voted against
the conference report, but it passed through the House on final vote
by just one majority. I don’t remember that any body ever praised
me, particularly, for voting against that report, and I never heard
any body blaming John Sherman for voting for it.
“Now, in 1873, the conditions were exactly the reverse. I was
chairman of the committee that had charge of the great appropriation
bill. There was put upon that bill, against my earnest protest, a
proposition to increase salaries. I take it there is no one here who
will deny that I worked as earnestly as I could to prevent the
putting of that increase upon the bill. I did not work against it
because it was a theft or robbery to put it on there; I worked
against it because I thought it was indecent, unbecoming, and in the
highest degree unwise and injudicious to increase the salaries at
that time. First, because they had been increased in 1866, and in
proportion to other salaries, Congressmen were paid enough—paid more
in proportion than most other officials were paid. Second, the glory
of the Congress had been that it was bringing down the expenditures
of the Government, from the highest level of war to the lowest level
of peace; and that if we raised our own salaries, unless the rise
had been made before, it would be the key-note on which the whole
tune of extravagance would be sung. I believed, too, that it would
seriously injure the Republican party, and on that score I thought
we ought to resist it. I did all in my power to prevent that
provision being added to the bill. I voted against it eighteen
times. I spoke against it, but by a very large vote in the House,
and a still larger vote in the Senate, the salary clause was put
upon the bill. I was captain of the ship, and this objectionable
freight had been put upon my deck. I had tried to keep it off. What
should I do? Burn the ship? Sink her? Or, having washed my hands of
the responsibility for that part of her cargo I had tried to keep
off, navigate her into port, and let those who had put this freight
on be responsible for it? Using that figure, that was the course I
thought it my duty to adopt. Now on that matter I might have made an
error of judgment. I believed then and now that if it had been in my
power to kill this bill, and had thus brought on an extra session, I
believe to-day, I say, had I been able to do that, I should have
been the worst blamed man in the United States. Why? During the long
months of the extra session that would have followed, with the evils
which the country would have felt by having its business disturbed
by Congress, and the uncertainties of the result, men would have
said all this has come about because we did not have a man at the
head of the Committee on Appropriations with nerve enough and force
enough to carry his bill through by the end of the session. The next
time we have a Congress, we had better see if we can not get a man
who will get his bills through. Suppose I had answered there was
that salary increase—‘That won’t do. You had shown your hand on the
salary question; you had protested against it and you had done your
duty.’ Then they would have said, there were six or seven sections
in that bill empowering the United States to bring the railroads
before the courts, and make them account for their extravagance.
They would have said we have lost all that by the loss of this bill,
and I would have been charged with acting in the interest of
railroad corporations, and fighting to kill the bill for that
reason. But be that as it may, fellow-citizens, I considered the two
alternatives as well as I could. I believed it would rouse a storm
of indignation and ill feeling throughout the country if that
increase of salary passed. I believed it would result in greater
evils if the whole failed, and an extra session came on. For a
little while I was tempted to do what would rather be pleasing than
what would be best in the long run. I believe it required more
courage to vote as I voted, than it would to have voted the other
way, but I resolved to do what seemed to me right in the case, let
the consequences be what they would. [Applause.] I may have made a
mistake in judgment; I blame no one for thinking so, but I followed
what I thought was the less bad of two courses. My subsequent
conduct was consistent with my action on the bill.
“I did not myself parade the fact, but more than a year ago the New
York _World_ published a list, stating in chronological order the
Senators and Representatives who covered their back pay into the
Treasury. My name was first on the list. [Applause.]
“I appeal to the sense of justice of this people, whether they will
tolerate this sort of political warfare. It has been proven again
and again that I never drew the back pay, never saw a dollar of it,
and took no action in reference to it except to sign an order on the
sergeant-at-arms to cover it into the general Treasury, and this was
done before the convention at Warren. I say more. Some of these men
who have been so long pursuing me, have known these facts for many
months. During the stormy times of the salary excitement, a citizen
of this county wrote a letter to a prominent official in the
Treasury of the United States, wanting to know whether Mr. Garfield
drew his pay or not, and received a very full and circumstantial
reply stating the facts. That letter is in this town, I suppose,
to-day, but those who have had possession of it have been careful
never to show it. I have a copy of it here, and if these men
continue lying about it, I will print it one of these days.
[Sensation and great applause. Cries of ‘Let us have that letter
read now, General Garfield.’] I will not give the name of the party.
The name I have not to whom it is addressed.
[The audience here absolutely insisted on having the letter read,
some demanding the name, and all positively refusing to allow the
speaker to proceed without reading the letter in justice to himself
and for the information of the audience.]
“‘TREASURY DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, June 9, 1873.
“‘_Dear Sir_: Your letter written early in May was forwarded to me
at Youngstown, where it could not be answered for want of accurate
data. When about to return to Washington, I searched for the letter
but could not find it. My recollection of its contents is that you
inquired as to the repayment into the Treasury by General Garfield
of the additional compensation due him as a member of the
Forty-Second Congress, under the provisions of the general
appropriation act of March 3, 1873.
“‘The additional compensation due General Garfield was drawn by Mr.
Ordway, sergeant-at-arms of the House of Representatives, and by him
paid into the Treasury as a miscellaneous revenue receipt. The money
was drawn by Mr. Ordway on the order of General Garfield. The
practice of the sergeant-at-arms is to take receipts from members in
blank in anticipation of the dates at which they are to become due,
and to pay their check on him by drawing the money from the Treasury
on those receipts. In this way he is, in a measure, the banker of
the members. General Garfield has signed such receipts month after
month at the beginning of the month, one of which was filled up by
Mr. Ordway and presented to the Treasury. At that time, I believe,
General Garfield was out of the city, but I happen to know that as
early as the 22d day of March this written order was delivered to
Mr. Ordway, viz: if he had not drawn any money from the Treasury on
his account to close the account without drawing it, and if he had
drawn it to return it. Mr. Ordway then informed him that it was
necessary for him to sign a special order on the Treasury if he
wished it drawn out and covered in, otherwise Mr. Garfield could
draw it at any time within two years; whereupon Mr. Garfield drew an
order for $4,548, payable to the order of Mr. Ordway, to be by him
covered into the Treasury. This was presented to the Treasurer and
the money turned over from the appropriation account to the general
account, so that no portion of it ever left the Treasury at all. It
was simply a transfer from the appropriation account to the general
funds of the Treasury.
“‘Very respectfully,
“‘ROBERT W. TAYLER.’”
“[Applause.]
“Question.—What was the date of the adjournment of Congress?
“General Garfield.—Congress adjourned on the 3d of March.
“Question.—What was the date of your letter?
“General Garfield.—The 22d day of March was the date of my letter.
“A voice.—Give us some of the De Gollyer matter.
“General Garfield.—We will take each particular thing at the proper
time and place. A note is handed me of which I will speak in this
connection. It is that during the debate Mr. Garfield answered a
question of Mr. Hibbard, of New Hampshire, who said, ‘How about this
plunder? How much plunder will it take out of the Treasury?’ And
that Mr. Garfield’s answer seemed to imply that he did not regard it
as plunder. I believe there has been as much said on that particular
reply of mine in connection with this salary business as any thing
else that has been said. Now I have already answered that in the
general remarks I have made this evening, namely, when a Democrat
from New Hampshire rose in his place and put a question to me,
inquiring how much money it would take out of the Treasury if this
salary act passed, and put it in the form of saying how much
‘plunder’ it would take, I did not at first notice that he used the
word ‘plunder,’ and I answered it would take a million and a half
dollars out of the Treasury. Then Mr. Dawes rose and said, ‘Did my
friend from Ohio notice the word ‘plunder?’’ Does he acknowledge
this to be ‘plunder?’ I then said, ‘No, I don’t acknowledge that
this is plunder. If any gentleman thinks that he is taking more than
is justly due him in his conscience, let him call it plunder if he
pleases.’
“Now, an attempt has been made to make it appear that Mr. Garfield
approved the salary act because he answered this man that he didn’t
regard it as robbery. I answer now, I do not regard it as robbery,
and never have.
“Now, one word more before I leave this question. I am glad the
American people rose up in indignation against that salary increase.
There were some unkind and unjust things said by the people in their
uprising, but they rose against it and rebuked it with a power and
might that has been of very great service to the country during the
last winter. It could not have been repealed but for the rebuke of
the people, and I could not have led as I did lead in more than
$20,000,000 reduction of public expenses, if I had not felt behind
me the weight, and help, and reinforcement of the indignation of the
people in regard to that salary increase. I say it was an indecent
thing to do, to increase the salary thus, and it was a great
conservative thing for the people to do to demand its repeal; and it
was repealed. But let us, in discussing it, deal with the subject
according to the truth. I now pause to inquire if any gentleman in
the audience has any questions to ask touching this salary, or any
thing concerning it? If he has, I shall be very glad to hear it.
[The speaker here paused, but no questions being asked, he proceeded
as follows:] If not, I pass to the subject my friend over yonder
seemed to be so anxious I should get to before I finished the last;
and here I approach a question that in one sense is not a question
at all, and in another sense it may be. I understand that several
persons in the district are saying that Mr. Garfield has taken a fee
for a so-called law opinion, but which, in fact, was something he
ought not to have done—which was in reality a kind of fee for his
official influence as a member of the Committee on Appropriations;
or, to speak more plainly, that I accepted pay for a service as a
kind of bribe, and that too, in
THE SO-CALLED DE GOLLYER PAVEMENT.
“Now, I have tried to state that in the broadest way, with the
broadest point forward. I ask the attention of this audience for a
few moments to the testimony. In the first place, I want the
audience to understand that the city of Washington is governed, and
has always been governed so far as its own improvements are
concerned, by its own laws and its own people, just as much as
Warren has been governed by its own corporate laws and authority. I
remember perfectly well what has been paraded in the papers so much
of late that Congress has full power to legislate over the District
of Columbia. Well, Congress has full jurisdiction over what is now
called the District of Columbia, and Congress could, I suppose, make
all the police regulations for the city of Washington; but Congress
always has allowed the city of Washington to have its city council,
or a legislature, until the present time. We have abolished it,
because we had a cumbrous machine. In the year 1871 a law was passed
by Congress creating the board of public works, appointing a
governor, and creating a legislature for the District of Columbia.
That act stated what the board of public works could do and what the
other branches of the District government could do; and among other
things, it empowered the legislature to levy taxes to make
improvements on the streets. The legislature met. The board of
public works laid before them an elaborate plan for improving the
streets of Washington, a plan amounting to six million dollars in
the first place, and the legislature adopted the plan and provided
that one-third of the entire cost of carrying out that plan should
be raised by assessing the front foot on the property holders, and
the other two-thirds should be paid by money to be borrowed by the
city government; in other words, by the issuing of their bonds. The
city government of Washington borrowed money and raised by special
taxation enough to carry on a vast system of improvement. When they
got ready to execute their plan one of the questions that came
before them was, What kind of pavement shall we put in? and in what
way shall we go about the business of letting our paving contracts?
In order to settle that question they wrote to all the principal
cities and found out all the methods pursued by them, and finally
appointed from leading officers of the army—General Humphreys, chief
engineer; General Meigs, quartermaster-general; the Surgeon-General,
and General Babcock of the engineer corps; and those four men sat as
an advising board, having no power but merely to advise. They took
up all kinds of pavement ever made; specimens were sent in; they
looked over the whole, and as a result recommended this: ‘We
recommend you, instead of letting this work be done by the lowest
bidder, with all the scheming “straw-bids” that may come in, to fix
a tariff of prices you will pay for different kinds of pavement, and
we recommend as follows: If you put down concrete pavement you had
better say you will pay so much per square yard for putting it down.
We have looked the cities all over and find that it is the proper
amount to pay; but for stone so much; for gravel so much; for
asphaltum so much; and for wood so much.’ Now, that board of public
works adopted the plan and that schedule of prices, and having
elected if they put those various kinds of pavements down, they
would put them down at those rates, they then said to all comers
‘bring in your various kinds of pavements and show us their merits,
and when we have examined them we will act.’
“Then the various paving companies and patentees all over the
country who had what they called good pavements, presented
themselves; but in almost all cases by their attorneys. They sent
men there to represent the relative merits of the pavements. A
pavement company in Chicago employed Mr. Parsons, of Cleveland, as
early as the month of April, 1872, to go before the board of public
works and present the merits of their pavements. Mr. Parsons had
nothing whatever to do with the question of prices; they had already
been settled in advance by the board. Mr. Parsons was marshal of the
Supreme Court at that time, and was just about running for Congress.
He asked the Chief Justice of the United States whether there was
any impropriety in his taking that case up and arguing it, merely
because he was an appointee and under his direction, and the Chief
Justice responded: ‘There was none in the world.’ He proceeded with
the case until the 8th day of June, when, for the first time, I
heard any thing about it. This was two days before the adjournment
of Congress. On that day Mr. Parsons came to me and said to me he
had an important case; he had worked a good while on it but was
called away. He must leave. He did not want to lose his fee in
it—was likely to lose it unless the work was completed; he must go
at any rate. He asked me if I would argue the case for him; if I
would examine into the merits of this pavement and make a statement
of it before the board. I said, ‘I will do it if I, on examination,
find the patent what it purports to be—the best wood pavement patent
there is, but I can’t do it until after Congress adjourns.’ Congress
adjourned two days later; the papers of patents were sent to me,
modeled specimens, and documents showing where pavement had been
used were forwarded to me. The investigation of the patents and the
chemical analysis representing all the elements of the pavement was
a laborious task and I worked at it as faithfully as any thing I
ever worked at. I did it in open daylight. I have never been able to
understand how any body has seen any thing in that on which to base
an attack on me. I say I am to-day intellectually incapable of
understanding the track of a man’s mind who sees in this any ground
for attacking me. I made the argument; there were two patents
contained in that pavement itself; there were some forty different
wood pavements proposed, and to carefully and analytically examine
all the relative merits of those was no small work. Mr. Parsons was
to get a fee providing he was successful, and not any if he was not
successful, and hence the sum offered was large—a contingent fee, as
every lawyer knows.”
This is enough to show Mr. Garfield’s relation to the De Gollyer affair.
After some further discussion of it this Warren speech closed as
follows:
“If no further questions are to be asked I will conclude with a few
general reflections on the whole subject.
“Nothing is more distasteful to me than to speak of my own work—but
this discussion has been made necessary by the persistent
misrepresentations of those who assail me.
“During my long public service the relation between the people of
this district and myself has been one of mutual confidence and
independence. I have tried to follow my own convictions of duty with
little regard to personal consequences, relying upon the
intelligence and justice of the people for approval and support. I
have sought to promote, not merely local and class interests, but
the general good of the whole country, believing that thereby I
could honor the position I hold and the district I represent. On the
other hand my constituents have given me the great support of their
strong and intelligent approval. They have not always approved my
judgment, nor the wisdom of my public acts. But they have sustained
me because they knew I was earnestly following my convictions of
duty, and because they did not want a representative to be the mere
echo of the public voice, but an intelligent and independent judge
of public questions.
“In conclusion, I appeal to the best men of the district—to men who
are every way worthy and every way capable to judge my conduct—nor
do I hesitate to refer all inquiries to those noble men with whom I
have acted during my public life. They have worked with me as
representatives during all these years, and know the character and
quality of my work. I have sought to make myself worthy of an
honorable fame among them, and have not sought in vain. They have
placed me in many positions of large trust and responsibility, and
in the present Congress I again hold the chairmanship of the
committee of the second if not the first importance in the House of
Representatives. I fearlessly appeal to the honorable members of the
present Congress, and of all the Congresses in which I have served,
to say if my conduct has not been high and worthy—the very reverse
of what these home enemies represent it to be. [Applause.] All this
time it has been a source of great strength and confidence to know
that here in this district there has been a strong, manly,
intelligent constituency willing to hold up my hands and enable me
more effectually to serve the country and honor them by my service.
While this has been true, a bitter few have long been doing all in
their power to depreciate my work and weaken my support.
“Mr. Wilkins.—You are rising too fast; they are afraid of being
eclipsed.
“Mr. Garfield.—In all this I have relied upon the good sense and
justice of the people to understand both my motives and the motives
and efforts of my enemies. On some questions of public policy there
have been differences between some of my constituents and myself.
For instance, on the currency question, I have followed what seemed
to me to be the line of truth and duty, and in that course I believe
that the majority of the people of this district now concur. Whether
right or wrong in opinions of this sort, I have believed it to be my
duty to act independently, and in accordance with the best light I
could find.
“Fellow-citizens, I believe I have done my country and you some
service, and the only way I can still continue thus to serve you is
by enjoying, in a reasonable degree, your confidence and support. I
am very grateful for the expression of confidence which you have
again given me by choosing me a seventh time as your candidate. It
was an expression which I have reason to believe was the result of
your deliberate judgment, based on a full knowledge of my record;
and it is all the more precious to me because it came after one of
those storms of public feeling which sometimes sweeps away the work
of a life-time.”
Aside from what has been here recounted, Garfield did not speak much on
these unpleasant topics. Having put himself on record, he did not
convict himself by protesting overmuch.
That he felt these things deeply one can not doubt. In a letter of
January 4, 1875, written to B. A. Hinsdale, he said:
“With me the year 1874 has been a continuation, and in some respects
an exaggeration, of 1873. That year brought me unusual trials, and
brought me face to face with personal assaults and the trial that
comes from calumny and public displeasure. This year has perhaps
seen the culmination, if not the end, of that kind of experience. I
have had much discipline of mind and heart in living the life which
these trials brought me. Lately I have been studying myself with
some anxiety to see how deeply the shadows have settled around my
spirit. I find I have lost much of that exuberance of feeling, that
cheerful spirit which I think abounded in me before. I am a little
graver and less genial than I was before the storm struck me. The
consciousness of this came to me slowly, but I have at last given in
to it, and am trying to counteract the tendency.”
These efforts were successful; for prosperity and popularity returned to
him; and even if they had not, General Garfield was not the man to
acquire bitterness of spirit.
In fact, if there was one thing wherein Garfield was greater than any
man in the illustrious group, whose names form a matchless diadem for
the epoch in which he lived, it was in a sweetness of temper, a
loftiness of spirit, the equal of which can hardly be found in secular
history. His spirit knew no malice; his heart no revenge. A
distinguished man who served with him in Congress, but who was not a
great friend, told the writer that in this regard Garfield inspired him
with awe. His conservative views made him many party enemies. Time after
time these brilliant debaters—Farnsworth and the rest—would attack
Garfield. No sarcasm was too cutting, no irony too cold. At times the
speaker seemed to leave the quiver of ridicule without an arrow. When
Garfield rose to reply, it was in a tone of calm discussion. He would
proceed to the subject in hand in the friendliest and most earnest
manner. No attack could provoke him to reply to personalities or
invective. Never did he lose self-poise for a moment. It was said that a
stranger entering the House after Garfield had begun his speech in
answer to some most galling attack would never suspect that the speech
was a reply to hostile and malignant assault.
The elections of 1874 having resulted favorably to the Democratic party,
the Republicans found themselves with only a minority in the House in
the Forty-Fourth Congress. Blaine lost his position as Speaker, and
Michael C. Kerr, of Indiana, presided. Committees were all reorganized
with Democratic chairmen and majorities.
Garfield, after having been four years Chairman of the Committee on
Appropriations, now found himself near the foot of the Committee of Ways
and Means, with a weighty group of Democrats above him on the list.
During his last four terms, Garfield was a member of the House Committee
on Rules. His knowledge of Parliamentary Law amounted to a mastery of
the subject.
In consequence of this change, General Garfield, suddenly relieved of
his usual large responsibility in the work of legislation, was turned
into a comparatively new field of public life. Relieved of the real work
of legislation, for the first time he had a good opportunity to observe
how others would do that work.
A very brief season of such observation on the part of Garfield and his
fellow-partisans was enough to make them dissatisfied with Democratic
statesmanship. The new majority began to destroy what Republicans had
spent so many years in building up. Then came organized opposition.
The first great collision occurred in January, 1876. This first
Democratic House since the war was, very naturally, led by Southern
members. Many late rebel generals had been sent to it. It was popularly
named the Confederate Congress—the rule of rebel brigadiers. Of course,
it was not long till they began to propose measures peculiarly favorable
to themselves.
When, at the close of the civil war, the Southern States were restored
to their right places in the Union, many of their citizens, guilty of
treason, had lost their political privileges. By acts of legislation and
presidential proclamations, most of these disabilities had been removed.
Early in the Forty-Fourth Congress the Amnesty Bill was proposed,
extending pardon to all ex-Confederates unconditionally.
It had been the policy of the Government to restore the South completely
in this respect, as fast as it was expedient to do so; but this was, as
yet, too sweeping a measure. The Republican leaders were opposed to it;
and Mr. Blaine proposed an amendment, excepting Jefferson Davis
absolutely and by name, and excepting seven hundred and fifty others
until they should renounce their treason by taking the oath of
allegiance to the United States. The friends of the bill would not
except even Davis, and on this point there arose one of the most
exciting debates ever held in Congress.
The attack was first made by Mr. Blaine, in the course of a series of
sharp thrusts between himself and Samuel J. Randall, of Pennsylvania,
who had charge of the bill. Finally the “plumed knight” rushed to the
front and dealt his heavy blows. It was a terrible arraignment of the
Confederate President, making him responsible for the savage cruelties
practiced on Union prisoners. All the horrors of Andersonville and Libby
prisons were described. He read the celebrated order “Number Thirteen,”
directing rebel guns to be turned on the suffering thousands at
Andersonville, on the approach of Sherman. Davis, he said, was a party
to these proceedings, and the American people would not, should not
sanction any act which made it possible for this man ever again to hold
any honorable public position within the gift of his Southern friends.
After Blaine’s speech, the debate was continued by Mr. Cox. Then came
Benjamin Hill, of Georgia, and James A. Garfield, of Ohio. Hill took up
the charges of Blaine, parried them skillfully without answering them,
made counter-charges against the Government in its treatment of rebel
prisoners, and, in fine, _succeeded_ in his attempt to overcome the
impression made by the Blaine attack. In this emergency, while the whole
Democracy was exulting, and Hill was the hero of the hour, all eyes
turned towards Garfield, for he promised a reply, and was known to be
better able for that task than any other man.
On the next day, January 12, Mr. Garfield was given the floor, and
began. After stating his regret that such an unpleasant discussion had
arisen, he made a brief review of the situation, and proceeded thus:
“Let me say in the outset that, so far as I am personally concerned,
I have never voted against any proposition to grant amnesty to any
human being who has asked for it at the bar of the House.
Furthermore, I appeal to gentlemen on the other side who have been
with me in this hall many years, whether at any time they have found
me truculent in spirit, unkind in tone or feeling toward those who
fought against us in the late war. Twelve years ago this very month,
standing in this place, I said this: ‘I believe a truce could be
struck to-day between the rank and file of the hostile armies now in
the field. I believe they could meet and shake hands together,
joyful over returning peace, each respecting the courage and manhood
of the other, and each better able to live in amity than before the
war.’
“I am glad to repeat word for word what I said that day. For the
purposes of this speech I will not even claim the whole ground which
the Government assumed toward the late rebellion. For the sake of
the present argument, I will view the position of those who took up
arms against the Government in the light least offensive to them.
“Leaving out of sight for the moment the question of slavery, which
evoked so much passion, and which was the producing cause of the
late war, there were still two opposing political theories which met
in conflict. Most of the Southern statesmen believed that their
first obedience was due to their State. We believed that the
allegiance of an American citizen was due to the National
government, not by the way of a State capital, but in a direct line
from his own heart to the government of the Union. Now, that
question was submitted to the dreadful arbitrament of war, to the
court of last resort—a court from which there is no appeal, and to
which all other powers must bow. To that dread court the great
question was carried, and there the right of a State to secede was
put to rest forever. For the sake of peace and union, I am willing
to treat our late antagonists as I would treat litigants in other
courts, who, when they have made their appeal and final judgment is
rendered, pay the reasonable costs and bow to its mandates. Our
question to-day is not that, but is closely connected with it. When
we have made our argument and the court has rendered its judgment,
it may be that in the course of its proceedings the court has used
its discretion to disbar some of its counselors for malpractice, for
unprofessional conduct. In such a case a motion may be made to
restore the disbarred members. Applying this illustration to the
present case, there are seven hundred and fifty people who are yet
disbarred before the highest authority of the Republic—the
Constitution itself. The proposition is to offer again the
privileges of official station to these people; and we are all
agreed as to every human being of them save one.
“I do not object to Jefferson Davis because he was a conspicuous
leader. Whatever we may believe theologically, I do not believe in
the doctrine of vicarious atonement in politics. Jefferson Davis was
no more guilty for taking up arms than any other man who went into
the rebellion with equal intelligence. But this is the question: In
the high court of war did he practice according to its well-known
laws—the laws of nations? Did he, in appealing to war, obey the laws
of war; or did he so violate those laws, that justice to those who
suffered at his hands demands that he be not permitted to come back
to his old privileges in the Union? That is the whole question; and
it is as plain and fair a question for deliberation as was ever
debated in this House.”
From this point Mr. Garfield proceeded by a long argument, well
supported by authorities, to show forth the real history of the
atrocities mentioned, and to demonstrate the responsibility of Jefferson
Davis for them. He ended this portion of the discussion in these words:
“It seems to me incontrovertible that the records I have adduced lay
at his door the charge of being himself the author, the conscious
author, through his own appointed instrument, of the terrible work
at Andersonville, for which the American people still hold him unfit
to be admitted among the legislators of this Nation.
* * * * *
“And now, Mr. Speaker, I close as I began. Toward those men who
gallantly fought us on the field I cherish the kindest feeling. I
feel a sincere reverence for the soldierly qualities they displayed
on many a well-fought battle-field. I hope the day will come when
their swords and ours will be crossed over many a doorway of our
children, who will remember the glory of their ancestors with pride.
The high qualities displayed in that conflict now belong to the
whole Nation. Let them be consecrated to the Union, and its future
peace and glory. I shall hail that consecration as a pledge and
symbol of our perpetuity.
“But there was a class of men referred to in the speech of the
gentleman yesterday for whom I have never yet gained the Christian
grace necessary to say the same thing. The gentleman said that, amid
the thunder of battle, through its dim smoke, and above its roar,
they heard a voice from this side saying, ‘Brothers, come!’ I do not
know whether he meant the same thing, but I heard that voice behind
us. I heard that voice, and I recollect that I sent one of those who
uttered it through our lines—a voice owned by Vallandigham. General
Scott said, in the early days of the war, ‘When this war is over, it
will require all the physical and moral power of the Government to
restrain the rage and fury of the non-combatants.’ It was that
non-combatant voice behind us that cried ‘Halloo!’ to the other
side; that always gave cheer and encouragement to the enemy in our
hour of darkness. I have never forgotten, and have not yet forgiven,
those Democrats of the North whose hearts were not warmed by the
grand inspirations of the Union, but who stood back, finding fault,
always crying disaster, rejoicing at our defeat, never glorying in
our victory. If these are the voices the gentleman heard, I am sorry
he is now united with those who uttered them.
“But to those most noble men, Democrats and Republicans, who
together fought for the Union, I commend all the lessons of charity
that the wisest and most beneficent men have taught.
“I join you all in every aspiration that you may express to stay in
this Union, to heal its wounds, to increase its glory, and to forget
the evils and bitterness of the past; but do not, for the sake of
the three hundred thousand heroic men who, maimed and bruised, drag
out their weary lives, many of them carrying in their hearts
horrible memories of what they suffered in the prison-pen—do not ask
us to vote to put back into power that man who was the cause of
their suffering—that man still unaneled, unshriven, unforgiven,
undefended.”
As the autumn of 1876 approached, it became evident that the Democratic
party, already dominant in the House; would make a desperate struggle at
the November elections to get complete control of the Government.
Before the long session of that hot summer ended, Mr. Lamar, of
Mississippi, took occasion to deliver in the House a powerful campaign
speech, attempting to prove that the Republican party did not deserve
further support from the people, and that the Democracy was eminently
worthy to rule in their stead. The next day, August 4, Mr. Garfield
replied. A part of this reply is here given:
“_Mr. Chairman_: I regret that the speech of the gentleman from
Mississippi [Mr. Lamar] has not yet appeared in the _Record_, so
that I might have had its full and authentic text before offering my
own remarks in reply. But his propositions were so clearly and so
very ably stated, the doctrines that run through it were so
logically connected, it will be my own fault if I fail to understand
and appreciate the general scope and purpose of his speech.
“In the outset, I desire for myself and for a majority at least, of
those for whom I speak, to express my gratitude to the gentleman for
all that portion of his speech which had for its object the removal
of the prejudices and unkindly feelings that have arisen among
citizens of the Republic in consequence of the late war. Whatever
faults the speech may have, its author expresses an earnest desire
to make progress in the direction of a better understanding between
the North and the South; and in that it meets my most hearty
concurrence and approval.
“I will attempt to state briefly what I understand to be the logic
of the gentleman’s speech.
* * * * *
“Now I have stated—of course very briefly, but I hope with entire
fairness—the scope of the very able speech to which we listened. In
a word, it is this: The Republican party is oppressing the South;
negro suffrage is a grievous evil; there are serious corruptions in
public affairs in the national legislation and administration; the
civil service of the country especially needs great and radical
reform; and, therefore, the Democratic party ought to be placed in
control of the Government at this time.
“It has not been my habit, and it is not my desire, to discuss mere
party politics in this great legislative forum. And I shall do so
now only in so far as a fair review of the gentleman’s speech
requires. My remarks shall be responsive to his; and I shall discuss
party history and party policy only as the logic of his speech leads
into that domain.
“From most of the premises of the gentleman, as matters of fact and
history, I dissent; some of them are undoubtedly correct. But, for
the sake of argument only, admitting that all his premises are
correct, I deny that his conclusion is warranted by his premises;
and, before I close, I shall attempt to show that the good he seeks
can not be secured by the ascendency of the Democratic party at this
time.
“Before entering upon that field, however, I must notice this
remarkable omission in the logic of his speech. Although he did
state that the country might consider itself free from some of the
dangers which are apprehended as the result of Democratic
ascendency, he did not, as I remember, by any word attempt to prove
the fitness of the Democracy as a political organization to
accomplish the reforms which he so much desires; and without that
affirmative proof of fitness his argument is necessarily an absolute
failure.
“It is precisely that fear which has not only made the ascendency of
the Democratic party so long impossible, but has made it incompetent
to render that service so necessary to good government—the service
of maintaining the position of a wise and honorable opposition to
the dominant party. Often the blunders and faults of the Republican
party have been condoned by the people because of the violent,
reactionary, and disloyal spirit of the Democracy.
“He tells us that it is one of the well-known lessons of political
history and philosophy, that the opposition party comes in to
preserve and crystallize the measures which their antagonists
inaugurated; and that a conservative opposition party is better
fitted to accomplish such a work than an aggressive radical party,
who roughly pioneered the way and brought in the changes. And to
apply this maxim to our own situation, he tells us that the
differences between the Republican and the Democratic parties upon
the issues which led to the war, and those which grew out of it,
were rather differences of time than of substance; that the
Democracy followed more slowly in the Republican path, but have at
last arrived, by prudent and constitutional methods, at the same
results; and hence they will be sure to guard securely and cherish
faithfully what the Republicans gained by reckless and turbulent
methods. There is some truth in these ‘glittering generalities,’
but, as applied to our present situation, they are entitled only to
the consideration which we give to the bright but fantastic pictures
of a Utopian dream.
“I share all that gentleman’s aspirations for peace, for good
government at the South; and I believe I can safely assure him that
the great majority of the nation shares the same aspirations. But he
will allow me to say that he has not fully stated the elements of
the great problem to be solved by the statesmanship of to-day. The
actual field is much broader than the view he has taken. And before
we can agree that the remedy he proposes is an adequate one, we must
take in the whole field, comprehend all the conditions of the
problem, and then see if his remedy is sufficient. The change he
proposes is not like the ordinary change of a ministry in England
when the government is defeated on a tax-bill or some routine
measure of legislation. He proposes to turn over the custody and
management of the Government to a party which has persistently, and
with the greatest bitterness, resisted all the great changes of the
last fifteen years; changes which were the necessary results of a
vast revolution—a revolution in national policy, in social and
political ideas—a revolution whose causes were not the work of a day
nor a year, but of generations and centuries. The scope and
character of that mighty revolution must form the basis of our
judgment when we inquire whether such a change as he proposes is
safe and wise.
“In discussing his proposition we must not forget that, as the
result of this revolution, the South, after the great devastations
of war, the great loss of life and treasure, the overthrow of its
social and industrial system, was called upon to confront the new
and difficult problem of two races—one just relieved from centuries
of slavery, and the other a cultivated, brave, proud, imperious
race—to be brought together on terms of equality before the law.
New, difficult, delicate, and dangerous questions bristle out from
every point of that problem.
“But that is not all of the situation. On the other hand, we see the
North, after leaving its 350,000 dead upon the field of battle and
bringing home its 500,000 maimed and wounded to be cared for,
crippled in its industries, staggering under the tremendous burden
of public and private debt, and both North and South weighted with
unparalleled burdens and losses—the whole nation suffering from that
loosening of the bonds of social order which always follows a great
war, and from the resulting corruption both in the public and the
private life of the people. These, Mr. Chairman, constitute the vast
field which we must survey in order to find the path which will
soonest lead our beloved country to the highway of peace, of liberty
and prosperity. Peace from the shock of battle; the higher peace of
our streets, of our homes, of our equal rights, we must make secure
by making the conquering ideas of the war every-where dominant and
permanent.
“With all my heart I join with the gentleman in rejoicing that—
“‘The war-drums throb no longer, and the battle-flags are furled’—
and I look forward with joy and hope to the day when our brave
people, one in heart, one in their aspirations for freedom and
peace, shall see that the darkness through which we have traveled
was a part of that stern but beneficent discipline by which the
Great Disposer of events has been leading us on to a higher and
nobler national life.
“But such a result can be reached only by comprehending the whole
meaning of the revolution through which we have passed and are still
passing. I say still passing; for I remember that after the battle
of arms comes the battle of history. The cause that triumphs in the
field does not always triumph in history. And those who carried the
war for union and equal and universal freedom to a victorious issue
can never safely relax their vigilance until the ideas for which
they fought have become embodied in the enduring forms of individual
and national life.
“Has this been done? Not yet.
“I ask the gentleman in all plainness of speech, and yet in all
kindness, is he correct in his statement that the conquered party
accept the results of the war? Even if they do, I remind the
gentleman that _accept_ is not a very strong word. I go further. I
ask him if the Democratic party have _adopted_ the results of the
war? Is it not asking too much of human nature to expect such
unparalleled changes to be not only accepted, but, in so short a
time, adopted by men of strong and independent opinions?
“The antagonisms which gave rise to the war and grew out of it were
not born in a day, nor can they vanish in a night.
“Mr. Chairman, great ideas travel slowly, and for a time
noiselessly, as the gods, whose feet were shod with wool. Our war of
independence was a war of ideas, of ideas evolved out of two hundred
years of slow and silent growth. When, one hundred years ago, our
fathers announced as self-evident truths the declaration that all
men are created equal, and the only just power of governments is
derived from the consent of the governed, they uttered a doctrine
that no nation had ever adopted, that not one kingdom on the earth
then believed. Yet to our fathers it was so plain that they would
not debate it. They announced it as a truth ‘self-evident.’
“Whence came the immortal truths of the Declaration? To me this was
for years the riddle of our history. I have searched long and
patiently through the books of the _doctrinaires_ to find the germs
from which the Declaration of Independence sprang. I found hints in
Locke, in Hobbes, in Rousseau, and Fénelon; but they were only the
hints of dreamers and philosophers. The great doctrines of the
Declaration germinated in the hearts of our fathers, and were
developed under the new influences of this wilderness world, by the
same subtle mystery which brings forth the rose from the germ of the
rose-tree. Unconsciously to themselves, the great truths were
growing under the new conditions until, like the century-plant, they
blossomed into the matchless beauty of the Declaration of
Independence, whose fruitage, increased and increasing, we enjoy
to-day.
“It will not do, Mr. Chairman, to speak of the gigantic revolution
through which we have lately passed as a thing to be adjusted and
settled by a change of administration. It was cyclical, epochal,
century-wide, and to be studied in its broad and grand perspective—a
revolution of even wider scope, so far as time is concerned, than
the Revolution of 1776. We have been dealing with elements and
forces which have been at work on this continent more than two
hundred and fifty years. I trust I shall be excused if I take a few
moments to trace some of the leading phases of the great struggle.
And, in doing so, I beg gentlemen to see that the subject itself
lifts us into a region where the individual sinks out of sight and
is absorbed in the mighty current of great events. It is not the
occasion to award praise or pronounce condemnation. In such a
revolution men are like insects that fret and toss in the storm, but
are swept onward by the resistless movements of elements beyond
their control. I speak of this revolution not to praise the men who
aided it, or to censure the men who resisted it, but as a force to
be studied, as a mandate to be obeyed.
“In the year 1620 there were planted upon this continent two ideas
irreconcilably hostile to each other. Ideas are the great warriors
of the world; and a war that has no ideas behind it is simply
brutality. The two ideas were landed, one at Plymouth Rock from the
_Mayflower_, and the other from a Dutch brig at Jamestown, Virginia.
One was the old doctrine of Luther, that private judgment in
politics as well as religion, is the right and duty of every man;
and the other that capital should own labor, that the negro had no
rights of manhood, and the white man might justly buy, own, and sell
him and his offspring forever. Thus freedom and equality on the one
hand, and on the other the slavery of one race and the domination of
another, were the two germs planted on this continent. In our vast
expanse of wilderness, for a long time, there was room for both; and
their advocates began the race across the continent, each developing
the social and political institutions of their choice. Both had vast
interests in common; and for a long time neither was conscious of
the fatal antagonisms that were developing.
“For nearly two centuries there was no serious collision; but when
the continent began to fill up, and the people began to jostle
against each other; when the Roundhead and the Cavalier came near
enough to measure opinions, the irreconcilable character of the two
doctrines began to appear. Many conscientious men studied the
subject, and came to the belief that slavery was a crime, a sin, or
as Wesley said, ‘the sum of all villainies.’ This belief dwelt in
small minorities for a long time. It lived in the churches and
vestries, but later found its way into the civil and political
organizations of the country, and finally found its way into this
chamber. A few brave, clear-sighted, far-seeing men announced it
here, a little more than a generation ago. A predecessor of mine,
Joshua R. Giddings, following the lead of John Quincy Adams, of
Massachusetts, almost alone held up the banner on this floor, and
from year to year comrades came to his side. Through evil and
through good report he pressed the question upon the conscience of
the nation.
“And so the contest continued; the supporters of slavery believing
honestly and sincerely that slavery was a divine institution; that
it found its high sanctions in the living oracles of God and in a
wise political philosophy; that it was justified by the necessities
of their situation; and that slave-holders were missionaries to the
dark sons of Africa, to elevate and bless them. We are so far past
the passions of that early time that we can now study the progress
of the struggle as a great and inevitable development, without
sharing in the crimination and recrimination that attended it. If
both sides could have seen that it was a contest beyond their
control; if both parties could have realized the truth that
‘unsettled questions have no pity for the repose of nations,’ much
less for the fate of political parties, the bitterness, the sorrow,
the tears, and the blood might have been avoided. But we walked in
the darkness, our paths obscured by the smoke of the conflict, each
following his own convictions through ever-increasing fierceness,
until the debate culminated in ‘the last argument to which kings
resort.’
“This conflict of opinion was not merely one of sentimental feeling;
it involved our whole political system; it gave rise to two
radically different theories of the nature of our Government: the
North believing and holding that we were a Nation, the South
insisting that we were only a confederation of sovereign States, and
insisting that each State had the right, at its own discretion, to
break the Union, and constantly threatening secession where the full
rights of slavery were not acknowledged.
“Thus the defense and aggrandizement of slavery, and the hatred of
Abolitionism, became not only the central idea of the Democratic
party, but its master-passion—a passion intensified and inflamed by
twenty-five years of fierce political contest, which had not only
driven from its ranks all those who preferred freedom to slavery,
but had absorbed all the extreme pro-slavery elements of the fallen
Whig party. Over against this was arrayed the Republican party,
asserting the broad doctrines of nationality and loyalty, insisting
that no State had a right to secede, that secession was treason, and
demanding that the institution of slavery should be restricted to
the limits of the States where it already existed. But here and
there, many bolder and more radical thinkers declared, with Wendell
Phillips, that there never could be union and peace, freedom and
prosperity, until we were willing to see John Hancock under a black
skin.
* * * * *
“Mr. Chairman, after the facts I have cited, am I not warranted in
raising a grave doubt whether the transformation occurred at all
except in a few patriotic and philosophic minds? The light gleams
first on the mountain peaks; but shadows and darkness linger in the
valley. It is in the valley masses of those lately in rebellion that
the light of this beautiful philosophy, which I honor, has not
penetrated. It is safer to withhold from them the custody and
supreme control of the precious treasures of the Republic until the
midday sun of liberty, justice, and equal laws shall shine upon them
with unclouded ray.
“In view of all the facts, considering the centuries of influence
that brought on the great struggle, is it not reasonable to suppose
that it will require yet more time to effect the great
transformation? Did not the distinguished gentleman from
Massachusetts [Mr. George F. Hoar] sum up the case fairly and
truthfully when he said of the South, in his Louisiana report of
1874: ‘They submitted to the national authority, not because they
would, but because they must. They abandoned the doctrine of State
sovereignty, which they had claimed made their duty to the States
paramount to that due to the nation in case of conflict, not because
they would, but because they must. They submitted to the
constitutional amendments which rendered their former slaves their
equals in all political rights, not because they would, but because
they must. The passions which led to the war, the passions which the
war excited, were left untamed and unchecked, except so far as their
exhibition was restrained by the arm of power.’
“Mr. Chairman, it is now time to inquire as to the fitness of this
Democratic party to take control of our great nation and its vast
and important interests for the next four years. I put the question
to the gentleman from Mississippi [Mr. Lamar], what has the
Democratic party done to merit that great trust? He tried to show in
what respects it would not be dangerous. I ask him to show in what
it would be safe. I affirm, and I believe I do not misrepresent the
great Democratic party, that in the last sixteen years they have not
advanced one great national idea that is not to-day exploded and as
dead as Julius Cæsar. And if any Democrat here will rise and name a
great national doctrine his party has advanced, within that time,
that is now alive and believed in, I will yield to hear him. [A
pause.] In default of an answer, I will attempt to prove my
negative.
“What were the great central doctrines of the Democratic party in
the presidential struggle of 1860? The followers of Breckinridge
said slavery had a right to go wherever the Constitution goes. Do
you believe that to-day? Is there a man on this continent that holds
that doctrine to-day? Not one. That doctrine is dead and buried. The
other wing of the Democracy held that slavery might be established
in the territories if the people wanted it. Does any body hold that
doctrine to-day? Dead, absolutely dead!
“Come down to 1864. Your party, under the lead of Tilden and
Vallandigham, declared the experiment of war to save the Union was a
failure. Do you believe that doctrine to-day? That doctrine was shot
to death by the guns of Farragut at Mobile, and driven, in a tempest
of fire, from the valley of the Shenandoah by Sheridan less than a
month after its birth at Chicago.
“Come down to 1868. You declared the Constitutional Amendments
revolutionary and void. Does any man on this floor say so to-day? If
so, let him rise and declare it.
“Do you believe in the doctrine of the Broadhead letter of 1868,
that the so-called Constitutional Amendments should be disregarded?
No; the gentleman from Mississippi accepts the results of the war!
The Democratic doctrine of 1868 is dead!
“I walk across that Democratic camping-ground as in a graveyard.
Under my feet resound the hollow echoes of the dead. There lies
slavery, a black marble column at the head of its grave, on which
I read: Died in the flames of the Civil War; loved in its life;
lamented in its death; followed to its bier by its only mourner,
the Democratic party, but dead! And here is a double grave: Sacred
to the memory of Squatter Sovereignty. Died in the campaign of
1860. On the reverse side: Sacred to the memory of the Dred
Scott-Breckinridge doctrine. Both died at the hands of Abraham
Lincoln! And here a monument of brimstone: Sacred to the memory of
the Rebellion; the war against it is a failure; _Tilden et
Vallandigham fecerunt_, A. D. 1864. Dead on the field of battle;
shot to death by the million guns of the Republic. The doctrine of
Secession; of State Sovereignty. Dead. Expired in the flames of
civil war, amidst the blazing rafters of the Confederacy, except
that the modern Æneas, fleeing out of the flames of that ruin,
bears on his back another Anchises of State Sovereignty, and
brings it here in the person of the honorable gentleman from the
Appomattox district of Virginia [Mr. Tucker]. [Laughter.] All else
is dead.
“Now, gentlemen, are you sad, are you sorry for these deaths? Are
you not glad that Secession is dead? that slavery is dead? that
Squatter Sovereignty is dead? that the doctrine of the failure of
the war is dead? Then you are glad that you were out-voted in 1860,
in 1864, in 1868, and in 1872. If you have tears to shed over these
losses, shed them in the graveyard, but not in this House of living
men. I know that many a Southern man rejoices that these issues are
dead. The gentleman from Mississippi has clothed his joy with
eloquence.
“Now, gentlemen, if you yourselves are glad that you have suffered
defeat during the last sixteen years, will you not be equally glad
when you suffer defeat next November? [Laughter.] But pardon that
remark; I regret it; I would use no bravado.
“Now, gentlemen, come with me for a moment into the camp of the
Republican party and review its career. Our central doctrine in 1860
was that slavery should never extend itself over another foot of
American soil. Is that doctrine dead? It is folded away like a
victorious banner; its truth is alive for evermore on this
continent. In 1864 we declared that we would put down the Rebellion
and Secession. And that doctrine lives, and will live when the
second Centennial has arrived! Freedom, national, universal, and
perpetual—our great Constitutional Amendments, are they alive or
dead? Alive, thank the God that shields both liberty and Union. And
our national credit, saved from the assaults of Pendleton; saved
from the assaults of those who struck it later, rising higher and
higher at home and abroad; and only now in doubt lest its chief, its
only enemy, the Democracy, should triumph in November.
“Mr. Chairman, ought the Republican party to surrender its truncheon
of command to the Democracy? The gentleman from Mississippi says, if
this were England, the ministry would go out in twenty-four hours
with such a state of things as we have here. Ah, yes! that is an
ordinary case of change of administration. But if this were England,
what would she have done at the end of the war? England made one
such mistake as the gentleman asks this country to make, when she
threw away the achievements of the grandest man that ever trod her
highway of power. Oliver Cromwell had overturned the throne of
despotic power, and had lifted his country to a place of masterful
greatness among the nations of the earth; and when, after his death,
his great scepter was transferred to a weak though not unlineal
hand, his country, in a moment of reactionary blindness, brought
back the Stuarts. England did not recover from that folly until, in
1689, the Prince of Orange drove from her island the last of that
weak and wicked line. Did she afterward repeat the blunder?
“For more than fifty years pretenders were seeking the throne; and
the wars on her coast, in Scotland and in Ireland, threatened the
overthrow of the new dynasty and the disruption of the empire. But
the solid phlegm, the magnificent pluck, the roundabout common-sense
of Englishmen steadied the throne till the cause of the Stuarts was
dead. They did not change as soon as the battle was over and let the
Stuarts come back to power.
“And how was it in our own country, when our fathers had triumphed
in the war of the Revolution? When the victory was won, did they
open their arms to the Loyalists, as they called themselves, or
Tories, as our fathers called them? Did they invite them back? Not
one. They confiscated their lands. The States passed decrees that no
Tory should live on our soil. And when they were too poor to take
themselves away, our fathers, burdened as the young nation was with
debt, raised the money to transport the Tories beyond seas or across
the Canada border. They went to England, to France, to Nova Scotia,
to New Brunswick, and especially to Halifax; and that town was such
a resort for them, that it became the swear-word of our boyhood. ‘Go
to Halifax!’ was a substitute for a more impious, but not more
opprobrious expression. The presence of Tories made it opprobrious.
“Now, I do not refer to this as an example which we ought to follow.
Oh, no. We live in a milder era, in an age softened by the more
genial influence of Christian civilization. Witness the sixty-one
men who fought against us in the late war, and who are now sitting
in this and the other chamber of Congress. Every one of them is here
because a magnanimous nation freely voted that they might come; and
they are welcome. Only please do not say that you are just now
especially fitted to rule the Republic, and to be the apostles of
liberty and of blessings to the colored race.
“Gentlemen, the North has been asked these many years to regard the
sensibilities of the South. We have been told that you were brave
and sensitive men, and that we ought not to throw firebrands among
you. Most of our people have treated you with justice and
magnanimity. In some things we have given you just cause for
complaint; but I want to remind you that the North also has
sensibilities to be regarded. The ideas which they cherished, and
for which they fought, triumphed in the highest court, the court of
last resort, the field of battle. Our people intend to abide by that
verdict and to enforce the mandate. They rejoice at every evidence
of acquiescence. They look forward to the day when the distinctions
of North and South shall have melted away in the grander sentiment
of nationality. But they do not think it is yet safe to place the
control of this great work in your hands. In the hands of some of
you they would be safe, perfectly safe; but into the hands of the
united South, joined with the most reactionary elements of the
Northern Democracy, our people will not yet surrender the
government.
“I am aware that there is a general disposition ‘to let by-gones be
by-gones,’ and to judge of parties and of men, not by what they have
been, but by what they are and what they propose.
“That view is partly just and partly erroneous. It is just and wise
to bury resentments and animosities. It is erroneous in this, that
parties have an organic life and spirit of their own—an
individuality and character which outlive the men who compose them;
and the spirit and traditions of a party should be considered in
determining their fitness for managing the affairs of a nation. For
this purpose I have reviewed the history of the Democratic party.”
Long ago an arrangement was perfected by which each State of the Union
should be allowed to place in the halls of Congress two statues of
distinguished citizens. On December 19, 1876, the State of Massachusetts
announced its readiness to comply with this arrangement, by presenting
two statues, one of John Winthrop and one of Samuel Adams.
Speaking on the resolution of that day, accepting this gift, Mr.
Garfield made one of the most felicitous of the many speeches of this
kind that he has left on record. One paragraph from this address can not
be omitted here:
“As, from time to time, our venerable and beautiful Hall has been
peopled with statues of the elect of the States, it has seemed to me
that a Third House was being organized within the walls of the
Capitol—a house whose members have received their high credentials
at the hands of history, and whose term of office will outlast the
ages. Year by year we see the circle of its immortal membership
enlarging; year by year we see the elect of their country, in
eloquent silence, taking their places in this American Pantheon,
bringing within its sacred circle the wealth of those immortal
memories which made their lives illustrious; and year by year that
august assembly is teaching a deeper and grander lesson to all who
serve their brief hour in these more ephemeral Houses of Congress.
And now two places of great honor have just been most nobly filled.”
Of a truth, General Garfield understood and appreciated the greatness of
the Republic, and the grandeur of the character which belonged to its
founders!
The election for President, in 1876, and the difficulty which arose in
deciding its results, will not be forgotten by this generation, or left
out of the studies of American statesmen in the future. We still vividly
recollect how narrow the majority, and how uncertain; how all depended
on three doubtful Southern States; how the “visiting statesmen” went to
New Orleans to watch the count before the Returning Board; how the
nation waited breathless while these momentous calculations were being
made. And finally, we long shall remember that famous Electoral
Commission which by an eight to seven vote made R. B. Hayes President of
the United States.
Arriving at Washington early in November, General Garfield was requested
by President Grant to go to New Orleans with the little company of
Democratic and Republican leaders who were there. General Garfield
arrived in New Orleans on November fourteenth. In common with other
members of the Republican Committee, he refused to unite in any movement
to in any way influence the Returning Board in its canvass of the vote.
He was there simply to witness what was done; not to take part in the
proceedings.
These visitors of both parties were given opportunities to witness the
count, five of each party being there all the time. They were furnished
with copies of all testimony taken; and to simplify the work, the study
of this testimony was distributed out among individuals. General
Garfield was given all the papers regarding East Feliciana parish, which
he thoroughly examined, and even recalled and re-examined some of the
witnesses.
In the work before the Returning Board, that Board allowed these
witnesses to ask questions, and to take copies of all the papers. Each
party was also represented by counsel, who argued the disputed points.
This was the work of the “visiting statesmen.” When the canvassing of
votes was completed, without waiting for or trying to influence the
result, General Garfield returned to Washington, as did nearly all the
others.
It has been a question whether outsiders ought to have been at New
Orleans at all in this emergency. Certainly a public man ran great risk
of doing himself harm by going, and it required the utmost
circumspection to get out of it, clear from suspicion of evil. A year
afterward this affair was examined by the Potter Committee, and of
Garfield, the worst they could say was this: “We found no fault in him.”
But the struggle at New Orleans did not decide it all. When January came
it was seen that there would still be trouble in deciding who were
elected. It was feared by all that an attempt to decide by the existing
laws, without the help of further provisions, might lead to serious
difficulties.
Accordingly, on January 29, 1877, there was passed in the House a law
providing for the Electoral Commission, a body to be composed of five
Associate Justices of the Supreme Court, five Senators and five
Representatives, to whom should be committed the duty of deciding, by
their recommendation, the votes of any disputed States.
General Garfield was opposed to this commission, which he thought an
unhappy way of ending the trouble. His views are given in a speech made
to the House, on January 25, wherein he said:
“What, then, are the grounds on which we should consider a bill like
this? It would be unbecoming in me or in any member of this Congress
to oppose this bill on mere technical or trifling grounds. It should
be opposed, if at all, for reasons so broad, so weighty, as to
overcome all that has been said in its favor, and all the advantages
which I have here admitted may follow from its passage. I do not
wish to diminish the stature of my antagonist; I do not wish to
undervalue the points of strength in a measure before I question its
propriety. It is not enough that this bill will tide us over a
present danger, however great. Let us for a moment forget Hayes and
Tilden, Republicans and Democrats; let us forget our own epoch and
our own generation; and, entering a broader field, inquire how this
thing which we are about to do will effect the great feature of our
republic, and in what condition, if we pass this bill, we shall
transmit our institutions to those who shall come after us. The
present good which we shall achieve by it may be very great; yet if
the evils that will flow from it in the future must be greater, it
would be base in us to flinch from trouble by entailing remediless
evils upon our children.
“In my view, then, the foremost question is this: What will be the
effect of this measure upon our institutions? I can not make that
inquiry intelligibly without a brief reference to the history of the
Constitution, and to some of the formidable questions which
presented themselves to our fathers nearly a hundred years ago, when
they set up this goodly frame of Government.
“Among the foremost difficulties, both in point of time and
magnitude, was how to create an executive head of the Nation. Our
fathers encountered that difficulty the first morning after they
organized and elected the officers of the Constitutional Convention.
The first resolution introduced by Randolph, of Virginia, on the
29th day of May, recognized that great question, and invited the
Convention to its examination. The men who made the Constitution
were deeply read in the profoundest political philosophy of their
day. They had learned from Montesquieu, from Locke, from Fénelon,
and other good teachers of the human race, that liberty is
impossible without a clear and distinct separation of the three
great powers of government. A generation before their epoch,
Montesquieu had said:
“‘When the legislative and executive powers are united in the same
person or in the same body of magistrates, there can be no liberty,
because apprehensions may arise lest the same monarch or senate
should enact tyrannical laws and execute them in a tyrannical
manner.
* * * * *
“‘There would be an end of every thing were the same man or the same
body, whether of the nobles or of the people, to exercise these
three powers, that of enacting the laws, that of executing the
public resolutions, and of trying the causes of individuals.’
“This was a fundamental truth in the American mind, as it had long
been cherished and practiced in the British empire.
“There, as in all monarchies, the creation of a chief executive was
easily regulated by adopting a dynasty, and following the law of
primogeniture.
“But our fathers had drawn the deeper lesson of liberty from the
inspirations of this free New World, that their Chief Executive
should be born, not of a dynasty, but of the will of a free people
regulated by law.
“In the course of their deliberations upon this subject, there were
suggested seven different plans, which may be grouped under two
principal heads or classes. One group comprised all the plans for
creating the Chief Executive by means of some one of the preëxisting
political organizations of the country. First and foremost was the
proposition to authorize one or both Houses of the National
Legislature to elect the Chief Executive. Another was to confer that
power upon the governors of the States, or upon the legislatures of
the States. Another, that he should be chosen directly by the people
themselves under the laws of the States. The second group comprised
all the various plans for creating a new and separate
instrumentality for making the choice.
“At first the proposition that the Executive should be elected by
the National Legislature was received by the Convention with almost
unanimous approval; and for the reason that up to that time Congress
had done all that was done in the way of national government. It had
created the nation and led its fortunes through a thousand perils,
had declared and achieved independence, and had preserved the
liberty of the people in the midst of a great war. Though Congress
had failed to secure a firm and stable Government after the war, yet
its glory was not forgotten. As Congress had created the Union, it
was most natural that our fathers should say Congress should also
create the Chief Executive of the nation. And within two weeks after
the Convention assembled, they voted for that plan with absolute
unanimity.
“But with equal unanimity they agreed that this plan would be fatal
to the stability of the Government they were about to establish, if
they did not couple with it some provision that should make the
President’s functions independent of the power that created him. To
effect this, they provided that the President should be ineligible
for reëlection. They said it would never do to create a Chief
Executive by the voice of the National Legislature, and then allow
him to be reëlected by that same voice; for he would thus become
their creature.
“And so, from the first day of their session in May, to within five
days of its close in September, they grappled with the mighty
question. I have many times, and recently very carefully, gone
through all the records that are left to us of that great
transaction. I find that more than one-seventh of all the pages of
the Madison papers are devoted to this Samson of questions, how the
Executive should be chosen and made independent of the organization
that made the choice. This topic alone occupied more than
one-seventh of all the time of the Convention.
“After a long and earnest debate, after numerous votes and
reconsiderations, they were obliged utterly to abandon the plan of
creating the Chief Executive by means of the National Legislature. I
will not stop now to prove the statement by a dozen or more pungent
quotations from the masters of political science in that great
assembly, in which they declared that it would be ruinous to the
liberty of the people and to the permanence of the Republic if they
did not absolutely exclude the National Legislature from any share
in the election of the President.
“They pointed with glowing eloquence to the sad but instructive fate
of those brilliant Italian republics that were destroyed because
there was no adequate separation of powers, and because their
senates overwhelmed and swallowed up the executive power, and, as
secret and despotic conclaves, became the destroyers of Italian
liberty.
“At the close of the great discussion, when the last vote on this
subject was taken by our fathers, they were almost unanimous in
excluding the National Legislature from any share whatever in the
choice of the Chief Executive of the nation. They rejected all the
plans of the first group, and created a new instrumentality. They
adopted the system of electors. When that plan was under discussion,
they used the utmost precaution to hedge it about by every
conceivable protection against the interference or control of
Congress.
“In the first place, they said the States shall create the electoral
colleges. They allowed Congress to have nothing whatever to do with
the creation of the colleges, except merely to fix the time when the
States should appoint them. And, in order to exclude Congress by
positive prohibition, in the last days of the Convention they
provided that no member of either House of Congress should be
appointed an elector; so that not even by the personal influence of
any one of its members could the Congress interfere with the
election of a President.
“The creation of a President under our Constitution consists of
three distinct steps: First, the creation of the electoral colleges;
second, the vote of colleges; and third, the opening and counting of
their votes. This is the simple plan of the Constitution.
“The creation of the colleges is left absolutely to the States,
within the five limitations I had the honor to mention to the House
a few days ago. First, it must be a _State_ that appoints electors;
second, the State is limited as to the number of electors it may
appoint; third, electors shall not be members of Congress or
officers of the United States; fourth, the time for appointing
electors may be fixed by Congress; and, fifth, the time when their
appointment is announced, which must be before the date for giving
their votes, may also be fixed by Congress.
“These five simple limitations, and these alone, were laid upon the
States. Every other act, fact, and thing possible to be done in
creating the electoral colleges was absolutely and uncontrollably in
the power of the States themselves. Within these limitations,
Congress has no more power to touch them in this work than England
or France. That is the first step.
“The second is still plainer and simpler, namely, the work of the
colleges. They were created as an independent and separate power, or
set of powers, for the sole purpose of electing a President. They
were created by the States. Congress has just one thing to do with
them, and only one: it may fix the day when they shall meet. By the
act of 1792 Congress fixed the day as it still stands in the law;
and there the authority of the Congress over the colleges ended.
“There was a later act—of 1845—which gave to the States the
authority to provide by law for filling vacancies of electors in
these colleges; and Congress has passed no other law on the subject.
“The States having created them, the time of their assemblage having
been fixed by Congress, and their power to fill vacancies having
been regulated by State laws, the colleges are as independent in the
exercise of their functions as is any department of the Government
within its sphere. Being thus equipped, their powers are restrained
by a few simple limitations laid upon them by the Constitution
itself: first, they must vote for a native-born citizen; second, for
a man who has been fourteen years a resident of the United States;
third, at least one of the persons for whom they vote must not be a
citizen of their own State; fourth, the mode of voting and
certifying their returns is prescribed by the Constitution itself.
Within these simple and plain limitations the electoral colleges are
absolutely independent of the States and of Congress.
“One fact in the history of the Constitutional Convention, which I
have not seen noticed in any of the recent debates, illustrates very
clearly how careful our fathers were to preserve these colleges from
the interference of Congress, and to protect their independence by
the bulwarks of the Constitution itself. In the draught of the
electoral system reported September 4, 1787, it was provided that
Congress ‘may determine the time of choosing and assembling of the
electors _and the manner of certifying and transmitting their
votes_.’
“That was the language of the original draught; but our fathers had
determined that the National Legislature should have nothing to do
with the action of the colleges; and the words that gave Congress
the power to prescribe the manner of certifying and transmitting
their votes were stricken out. The instrument itself prescribed the
mode. Thus Congress was wholly expelled from the colleges. The
Constitution swept the ground clear of all intruders, and placed its
own imperial guardianship around the independence of the electoral
colleges by forbidding even Congress to enter the sacred circle. No
Congressman could enter; and, except to fix the day of their
meeting, Congress could not speak to the electors.
“These colleges are none the less sovereign and independent because
they exist only for a day. They meet on the same day in all the
States; they do their work summarily in one day, and dissolve for
ever. There is no power to interfere, no power to recall them, no
power to revise their action. Their work is done; the record is made
up, signed, sealed, and transmitted; and thus the second great act
in the Presidential election is completed. I ought to correct
myself; the second act _is_ the Presidential election. The election
is finished the hour when the electoral colleges have cast their
votes and sealed up the record.
“Still, there is a third step in the process; and it is shorter,
plainer, simpler than the other two. These sealed certificates of
the electoral colleges are forwarded to the President of the Senate,
where they rest under the silence of the seals for more than two
months. The Constitution assumes that the result of the election is
still unknown. But on a day fixed by law, and the only day of all
the days of February on which the law commands Congress to be in
session, the last act in the plan of electing a President is to be
performed.
“How plain and simple are the words that describe this third and
last step. Here they are:
“‘The President of the Senate shall, in the presence of the
Senate and House of Representatives, open all the certificates,
and the votes shall then be counted.’
“Here is no ambiguity. Two words dominate and inspire the clause.
They are the words _open_ and _count_. These words are not shrouded
in the black-letter mysteries of the law. They are plain words,
understood by every man who speaks our mother-tongue, and need no
lexicon or commentary.
“Consider the grand and simple ceremonial by which the third act is
to be completed. On the day fixed by law the two Houses of Congress
are assembled. The President of the Senate, who, by the
Constitution, has been made the custodian of the sealed certificates
from all the electoral colleges, takes his place. The Constitution
requires a ‘person’ and a ‘presence.’ That ‘person’ is the President
of the Senate; and that ‘presence’ is the ‘presence’ of the two
Houses. Then two things are to be _done_. The certificates are to be
opened, and the votes are to be counted. These are not legislative
acts, but clearly and plainly executive acts. I challenge any man to
find anywhere an accepted definition of an executive act that does
not include both these. They can not be tortured into a meaning that
will carry them beyond the boundaries of executive action. And one
of these acts the President of the Senate is peremptorily ordered to
perform. The Constitution commands him to ‘open all the
certificates.’ Certificates of what? Certificates of the votes of
the electoral colleges. Not any certificates that any body may
choose to send, but certificates of electors appointed by the
States. The President of the Senate is presumed to know what are the
States in the Union, who are their officers, and, when he opens the
certificates, he learns from the official record who have been
appointed electors, and he finds their votes.
“The Constitution contemplated the President of the Senate as the
Vice-President of the United States, the elect of all the people.
And to him is confided the great trust, the custodianship of the
only official record of the election of President. What is it to
‘open the certificates’? It would be a narrow and inadequate view of
that word to say that it means only the breaking of the seals. To
open an envelope is not to ‘open the certificates.’ The certificate
is not the paper on which the record is made; it is the record
itself. To open the certificates is not a physical but an
intellectual act. It is to make patent the record; to publish it.
When that is done the election of President and Vice-President is
published. But one thing remains to be done; and here the language
of the Constitution changes from the active to the passive voice,
from the personal to the impersonal. To the trusted custodian of the
votes succeeds the impersonality of arithmetic; the votes have been
made known; there remains only the command of the Constitution:
‘They shall be counted’—that is, the numbers shall be added up.
“No further act is required. The Constitution itself declares the
result:
“‘The person having the greatest number of votes for President
shall be President, if such number be a majority of the whole
number of electors appointed.’
“If no person has such majority, the House of Representatives shall
_immediately_ choose a President; not the House as organized for
legislation, but a new electoral college is created out of the
members of the House, by means of which each State has one vote for
President, and only one.
“To review the ground over which I have traveled: The several acts
that constitute the election of a President may be symbolized by a
pyramid consisting of three massive, separate blocks. The first, the
creation of the electoral college by the States, is the broad base.
It embraces the legislative, the judicial, and the executive powers
of the States. All the departments of the State government and all
the voters of the State coöperate in shaping and perfecting it.
“The action of the electoral colleges forms the second block,
perfect in itself, and independent of the others, superimposed with
exactness upon the first.
“The opening and counting of the votes of the colleges is the little
block that crowns and completes the pyramid.
“Such, Mr. Speaker, was the grand and simple plan by which the
framers of the Constitution empowered all the people, acting under
the laws of the several States, to create special and select
colleges of independent electors to choose a President, who should
be, not the creature of Congress, nor of the States, but the Chief
Magistrate of the whole Nation—the elect of all the people.”
But the Electoral Commission was constituted by law, and Garfield
himself chosen unanimously by his party as a member thereof. He
accepted, saying: “Since you have appointed me, I will serve. I can act
on a committee when I do not believe in its validity.” That fact could
not affect the justice of his decisions.
It is impossible to even hint at more than a small portion of the vast
field of work which occupied General Garfield during this and the
succeeding Congress.
On November 16, 1877, he made a very able speech on the subject of
Resumption of Payments; an address which would serve to perpetuate his
fame, if he had no other monument.
In the _Atlantic Monthly_ of February, 1876, appeared an article from
his pen, entitled “The Currency Conflict.” On June 4, of the same year,
he opposed, in an elaborate address, a tariff bill brought in by Mr.
Morrison, of Illinois.
June 22, 1876, was to him the “sad occasion dear” of a revival of
precious memories. In the preceding December his old friend and
fellow-student of Hiram, Miss Booth, had died, and this day in June was
appointed there for a memorial address by General Garfield. As at all
such times when he spoke, we are struck with a sense of the wonderful
delicacy of this man’s nature, which responded so perfectly to every
delicate and holy sentiment known to the human heart. His very first
words were:
“_Mr. President_: You have called me to a duty at once most sad and
most sacred. At every step of my preparation for its performance, I
have encountered troops of thronging memories that swept across the
field of the last twenty-five years of my life, and so filled my
heart with the lights and shadows of their joy and sorrow that I
have hardly been able to marshal them into order or give them
coherent voice. I have lived over again the life of this place. I
have seen again the groups of young and joyous students, ascending
these green slopes, dwelling for a time on this peaceful height in
happy and workful companionship, and then, with firmer step, and
with more serious and thoughtful faces, marching away to their posts
in the battle of life.
“And still nearer and clearer have come back the memories of that
smaller band of friends, the leaders and guides of those who
encamped on this training-ground. On my journey to this assembly, it
has seemed that they, too, were coming, and that I should once more
meet and greet them. And I have not yet been able to realize that
Almeda Booth will not be with us. After our great loss, how shall we
gather up the fragments of the life we lived in this place? We are
mariners, treading the lonely shore in search of our surviving
comrades and the fragments of our good ship, wrecked by the tempest.
To her, indeed, it is no wreck. She has landed in safety, and
ascended the immortal heights beyond our vision.”
The death of Michael C. Kerr having made necessary the selection of a
new Speaker, the Democratic majority in the House elected Samuel J.
Randall, and the complimentary vote of the Republicans went to General
Garfield. He was also their candidate in the two succeeding Congresses.
He had divided the honor of leadership pretty evenly with Mr. Blaine,
until, in 1877, the latter gentleman went to the Senate, and left
Garfield without a rival. Fourteen years of able and faithful service
had done their work grandly for his power and his fame.
On February 12, 1878, Mrs. Elizabeth Thompson, of New York City,
presented to Congress that great painting of Carpenter, “Lincoln and
Emancipation.” At her request the presentation address was made by
General Garfield.
His important speeches during this Congress were even more numerous than
usual; especially in the special session held in the spring and summer
of 1879. One of the best was that of February 19, 1878, on the “Policy
of Pacification, and the Prosecutions in Louisiana.” At this time there
were two serious political storms brewing in the air. First, there were
divisions in the Republican party, and an alienation of some of its
leaders from President Hayes; second, the Democratic party, with its
cries of “fraud,” concerning the last election, and its Potter
Committee, and its prosecutions against the members of the Louisiana
Returning Board, was trying to destroy the people’s confidence in the
Government as then constituted. The latter quarrel no doubt was the
salvation of the party concerned in the former. Its members rallied and
united. Garfield was leader and chief promoter of Republican harmony, as
well as the strongest bulwark against the enemy.
This speech of February 19 contains the following pithy paragraph,
descriptive of the way in which the nation had passed through the
transformations of war:
“There was, first, the military stage—the period of force, of open
and bloody war—in which gentlemen of high character and honor met on
the field, and decided by the power of the strongest the questions
involved in the high court of war. That period passed, but did not
leave us on the calm level of peace. It brought us to the period of
transition, in which the elements of war and peace were mingled
together in strange and anarchic confusion. It was a period of civil
and military elements combined. All through that semi-military
period the administration of General Grant had, of necessity, to
conduct the country. His administration was not all civil, it was
not all military; it was necessarily a combination of both; and out
of that combination came many of the strange and anomalous
situations which always follow such a war.”
Again:
“Our great military chieftain, who brought the war to a successful
conclusion, had command as chief executive during eight years of
turbulent, difficult, and eventful administration. He saw his
administration drawing to a close, and his successor elected—who,
studying the question, came to the conclusion that the epoch had
arrived, the hour had struck, when it was possible to declare that
the semi-military period was ended, and the era of peace methods, of
civil processes, should be fully inaugurated. With that spirit, and
at the beginning of this third era, Rutherford B. Hayes came into
the Presidency. I ought to say that, in my judgment, more than any
other public man we have known, the present head of the
administration is an optimist. He looks on the best side of things.
He is hopeful for the future, and prefers to look upon the bright
side rather than upon the dark and sinister side of human nature.
His faith is larger than the faith of most of us; and with his faith
and hope he has gone to the very verge of the Constitution in
offering both hands of fellowship and all the olive-branches of
peace to bring back good feeling, and achieve the real pacification
to this country.”
After this came a brief protest against the Bland Silver Bill, February
28, 1878. On March 6, 1878, he delivered his “New Scheme of American
Finance,” being in answer to a personal attack of William D. Kelley, the
great protective tariff advocate, of Pennsylvania. Other addresses were,
“The Army and the Public Peace,” May 21, 1878; reply to Mr. Tucker on
the “Tariff,” June 4, 1878; “Honest Money,” a speech delivered at
Boston, in Faneuil Hall, September 10, 1878; “Suspension and Resumption
of Specie Payments,” at Chicago, January 2, 1879, before the Honest
Money League of the North-west; in memory of Joseph Henry, January
16,1879; “Relation of Government to Science,” February 11, 1879; in
memory of the late Hon. Gustave Schleicher, February 17, 1879; and a
very interesting speech of February 26, 1879, about the “Sugar Tariff.”
When March 3,1879, came, the Forty-Fifth Congress went out with much of
its important business undone; two of the great appropriation bills had
not passed on account of political difficulties. The Democrats attempted
to force assent to some of their schemes by tacking their propositions
to the Appropriation bill. But this measure the Republicans resisted to
the last. And so it happened that in March, 1879, President Hayes was
obliged to call an extra session. But here the old fight was renewed,
and a long “dead lock” followed.
Throughout this struggle, Garfield was the central figure in the front
rank of his party in the House. Scarcely had Congress assembled when the
old Army Bill was reported. Then, in Committee of the Whole, the old
“rider” was moved as an amendment. The Chair decided this amendment in
order, whereupon there was great indignation on the Republican side, and
a remarkable debate ensued. Garfield made his principal protest while
things were in this situation, on March 29, 1879, in a speech entitled
“Revolution in Congress.”
Throughout this special session the fierce heat of political conflict
grew more intense every day, like the sun whose burning rays beat down
upon the Capitol. On April 4, Garfield spoke again on the subject which
had occupied his attention six days before. April 26, he spoke on the
passage of the Legislative Appropriation Bill; May 17, against unlimited
coinage of silver; June 19, on the Judicial Appropriation Bill; June 21,
concerning a proposed survey of the Mississippi River, in the course of
which he said:
“But for myself, I believe that one of the grandest of our material
national interests—one that is national in the largest material
sense of that word—is the Mississippi River and its navigable
tributaries. It is the most gigantic single natural feature of our
continent, far transcending the glory of the ancient Nile or of any
other river on the earth. The statesmanship of America must grapple
the problem of this mighty stream. It is too vast for any State to
handle; too much for any authority less than that of the nation
itself to manage. And I believe the time will come when the
liberal-minded statesmanship of this country will devise a wise and
comprehensive system, that will harness the powers of this great
river to the material interests of America, so that not only all the
people who live on its banks and the banks of its confluents, but
all the citizens of the Republic, whether dwellers in the central
valley or on the slope of either ocean, will recognize the
importance of preserving and perfecting this great natural and
material bond of national union between the North and the South—a
bond to be so strengthened by commerce and intercourse that it can
never be severed.”
Thus refreshed by something more liberal than the recent discussions in
which he had been engaged, Garfield soon resumed the struggle, and on
June 27, 1879, gave the Democratic party and the South a regular
broadside on “State Sovereignty.”
The Special Session of 1879 came to an end on July 1st. At its beginning
the dominant power in the House loudly proclaimed its intention to push
its measures through at all hazards. The appropriation bills, with their
obnoxious “riders,” were passed; the President vetoed them. It then
became a question of revolution or yielding. There was no revolution!
Every dollar called for by the Government was voted, except the pay of
the United States marshals, who overcame the difficulty by paying their
own expenses, trusting a future session of Congress to repay them.
According to his custom, General Garfield spoke often during the Ohio
campaign of 1879; a good specimen of his stump speeches is the one at
Cleveland, on October 11th, of this year. At the Andersonville Reunion,
held in Toledo, Ohio, on October 3d, he had been present and addressed
the throng of Union soldiers and ex-prisoners who met there.
During the regular sessions of the Forty-Sixth Congress his activity was
undiminished. In his speech of March 17, during the discussion of a bill
to pay the United States marshals for the year ending June 30, 1880, we
find such sterling utterances as these:
“Mr. Chairman: When I took my seat as a member of this House, I took
it with all the responsibilities which the place brought upon me;
and among others was my duty to keep the obligations of the law.
Where the law speaks in mandatory terms to every body else and then
to me, I should deem it cowardly and dishonorable if I should skulk
behind my legislative privilege for the purpose of disobeying and
breaking the supreme law of the land.
“The issue now made is somewhat different from that of the last
session, but, in my judgment, it is not less significant and
dangerous. I would gladly waive any party advantage which this
controversy might give for the sake of that calm and settled peace
which would reign in this Hall if we all obeyed the law. But if the
leaders on the other side are still determined to rush upon their
fate by forcing upon the country this last issue—that because the
Democratic party happen not to like a law they will not obey
it—because they happen not to approve of the spirit and character of
a law they will not let it be executed—I say to gentlemen on the
other side, if you are determined to make such an issue, it is high
time that the American people should know it.
“Here is the volume of our laws. More sacred than the twelve tables
of Rome, this rock of the law rises in monumental grandeur alike
above the people and the President, above the courts, above
Congress, commanding everywhere reverence and obedience to its
supreme authority. Yet the dominant party in this House virtually
declares that ‘any part of this volume that we do not like and can
not repeal we will disobey. We have tried to repeal these election
laws; we have failed because we had not the constitutional power to
destroy them; the Constitution says they shall stand in their
authority and power; but we, the Democratic party, in defiance of
the Constitution, declare that if we can not destroy them outright
by the repeal, they shall be left to crumble into ruin by wanton and
lawless neglect.’
“Mr. Chairman, by far the most formidable danger that threatens the
Republic to-day is the spirit of law-breaking which shows itself in
many turbulent and alarming manifestations. The people of the
Pacific Coast, after two years of wrestling with the spirit of
communism in the city of San Francisco, have finally grappled with
this lawless spirit, and the leader of it was yesterday sentenced to
penal servitude as a violator of the law. But what can we say to
Denis Kearney and his associates if to-day we announce ourselves the
foremost law-breakers of the country and set an example to all the
turbulent and vicious elements of disorder to follow us?
“I ask, gentlemen, whether this is a time when it is safe to
disregard and weaken the authority of law. In all quarters the civil
society of this country is becoming honeycombed through and through
by disintegrating forces—in some States by the violation of
contracts and the repudiation of debts; in others by open resistance
and defiance; in still others by the reckless overturning of
constitutions and letting the ‘red fool fury of the Seine’ run riot
among our people and build its blazing altars to the strange gods of
ruin and misrule. All these things are shaking the good order of
society and threatening the foundations of our Government and our
peace. In a time like this, more than ever before, this country
needs a body of lawgivers clothed and in their right minds, who have
laid their hands upon the altar of the law as its defenders, not its
destroyers.”
April 5, 1880, General Garfield made a trenchant argument against a pet
measure of the greenback apostle, Mr. Weaver. Five days afterward
occurred a debate between Garfield and McMahon, also of Ohio, on the
pending Appropriation bill.
On May first he made a personal explanation, defending his committee
action in regard to the so-called wood-pulp monopoly. This pulp is
obtained from soft wood and used in the manufacture of paper. The
newspapers everywhere were calling for a removal of the duty on this
their great necessity. Garfield stood out for a ten per cent. tariff, as
a protection to our manufacturers from the Canadian manufacturers, who
had no royalties to pay, and therefore could have undersold us. In this
speech Garfield met the charge of being a monopoly supporter, and
vindicated his policy on the disputed question.
Turning aside from this well-fought field where Garfield had so long
stood, as a great representative of all that is good in the recent
legislative history of our country, it is time to view the new honors
which were now preparing for him.
On the fourteenth of January, 1880, the Ohio Legislature elected James
A. Garfield to the United States Senate, to succeed Mr. Thurman, whose
term was to expire in the following March. So thoroughly had Garfield
recovered from the wave of scandal which a few years earlier had swept
over but could not overwhelm him, that he was the unanimous choice of
his party; and the Democratic minority itself cordially united to make
his election unanimous. All this came entirely without solicitation from
him for such an honor.
At an informal reception held in the Capitol at Columbus, the evening
after his election, General Garfield was called upon for a speech. In
response, he made a brief and appropriate address. The following is an
extract therefrom:
“FELLOW-CITIZENS:—I should be a great deal more than a man, or a
great deal less than a man, if I were not extremely gratified by
this mark of your kindness you have shown me in recent days. I did
not expect any such meeting as this. I knew there was a greeting
awaiting me, but I did not expect so cordial, generous, and general
a greeting, without distinction of party, without distinction of
interests, as I have received here to-night. And you will allow me
in a moment or two to speak of the memories this chamber awakens.
“I recognize the importance of the place to which you have elected
me, and I should be base if I did not also recognize the great man
whom you have elected me to succeed. I say for him, Ohio has had few
larger-minded, broader-minded men in the records of our history than
that of Allen G. Thurman. Differing widely from him as I have done
in politics, and do, I recognize him as a man high in character and
great in intellect; and I take this occasion to refer to what I have
never before referred to in public—that many years ago, in the storm
of party fighting, when the air was filled with all sorts of
missiles aimed at the character and reputation of public men, when
it was even for his party interest to join the general clamor
against me and my associates, Senator Thurman said in public, in the
campaign, on the stump,—where men are as likely to say unkind things
as at any place in the world,—a most generous and earnest word of
defense and kindness for me, which I shall never forget as long as I
live. I say, moreover, that the flowers that bloom over the garden
wall of party politics are the sweetest and most fragrant that bloom
in the gardens of this world; and where we can early pluck them and
enjoy their fragrance, it is manly and delightful to do so.
“And now, gentlemen of the General Assembly, without distinction of
party, I recognize this tribute and compliment made to me to-night.
Whatever my own course may be in the future, a large share of the
inspiration of my future public life will be drawn from this
occasion and these surroundings, and I shall feel anew the sense of
obligation that I owe to the State of Ohio. Let me venture to point
a single sentence in regard to that work. During the twenty years
that I have been in public life, almost eighteen of it in the
Congress of the United States, I have tried to do one thing. Whether
I was mistaken or otherwise, it has been the plan of my life to
follow my convictions at whatever personal cost to myself. I have
represented for many years a district in Congress whose approbation
I greatly desired; but though it may seem, perhaps, a little
egotistical to say it, I yet desired still more the approbation of
one person, and his name is Garfield. He is the only man that I am
compelled to sleep with, and eat with, and live with, and die with;
and if I could not have his approbation, I should have bad
companionship. And in this larger constituency which has called me
to represent them now, I can only do what is true to my best self,
applying the same rules. And if I should be so unfortunate as to
lose the confidence of this larger constituency, I must do what
every other fair-minded man has to do—carry his political life in
his hand and take the consequences. But I must follow what seems to
me to be the only safe rule of my life; and with that view of the
case, and with that much personal reference, I leave the subject.
“Thanking you again, fellow-citizens, members of the General
Assembly, Republicans and Democrats—all, party man as I am,—thanking
you both for what you have done and for this cordial and manly
greeting, I bid you good-night.”
CHAPTER IX.
GREAT QUESTIONS AND GREAT ANSWERS.
“Who shall make answer on such themes as these?”
It is now appropriate to consider somewhat _in extenso_ the claims of
James A. Garfield to be regarded as a statesman. It must needs be in the
life of every public man, more particularly in the life of a
Congressman, and more particularly still in the life of him who has
risen to the rank of leader of the House, that he speak much on
questions of passing interest. Many of the topics which engage his
attention flit away with the occasion which gave them birth. They are
the issues of the day, creatures of prejudice and partisanship. Hence in
the history of the life of a public man, many paragraphs will be found
which merely recount the battles fought and victories won in the
ordinary contests of the arena.
In the most marked contrast with this, however, is another class of
questions which rise to the level of perpetual interest, affecting not
only the destinies of the hour, but pregnant with the fate of the
future. Not questions of the day are these, passing like a shadow over
the landscape of current events; but shining rather like those orbs from
whose disks the effulgence is shed which makes shadows possible. Albeit,
there are themes of statesmanship vitally affecting the life of the
nation; and only he, who in the heated arena of public life shows
himself able to grapple with such problems, is worthy of the name of
statesman.
Was James A. Garfield a statesman? In considering this question, and
finding therefor a fitting answer, it is necessary clearly to understand
what _are_ the leading themes of American statesmanship. Perhaps a fair
analysis of this great question will show that those topics of public
discussion which rise to the dignity of questions of statesmanship will
present about four leading heads:
I. Questions affecting THE NATIONALITY OF THE UNITED STATES.
II. Questions affecting THE FINANCIAL AND MONETARY SYSTEMS OF THE UNITED
STATES.
III. Questions affecting THE REVENUE AND EXPENDITURES OF THE UNITED
STATES.
IV. Questions concerning THE GENERAL CHARACTER AND TENDENCY OF AMERICAN
INSTITUTIONS.
If it be shown that James A. Garfield proved himself able to grasp and
discuss any or all of the great questions falling under this
comprehensive classification, in such a manner as to throw new light
upon them, to fix the status of public opinion regarding them, and to
that extent to build more securely than hitherto the substructure of
American greatness, then indeed is he worthy of the name of statesman.
Let us then, without fear or partiality, apply the crucial test to
Garfield’s public life, and see whether indeed he is the peer and fit
companion for the great names of our history—for Hamilton, and Adams,
and Webster, and Sumner, and Chase.
Before beginning this discussion, however, it will be necessary to
remind the reader, that in considering the claims of Garfield to the
rank of statesman under the outline presented above, the chronological
order of the narrative will be broken up, and such a grouping made of
his public speeches and papers as will best illustrate his views and
establish his rank among the great men of our country.
First, then, as to questions affecting THE NATIONALITY OF THE UNITED
STATES. What is the record of him whose life is here recounted
concerning those great and vital themes upon which rests our perpetuity
as a nation? Three utterances, his earliest, his latest, and his most
characteristic, must be taken as representatives of the entire class.
On February 1, 1866, being thirty-five years of age, he presented his
views on the general question of the restoration of the States lately in
rebellion:
THIS IS A NATION.
“The word ‘State’, as it has been used by gentlemen in this
discussion, has two meanings, as perfectly distinct as though
different words had been used to express them. The confusion arising
from applying the same word to two different and dissimilar objects,
has had very much to do with the diverse conclusions which gentlemen
have reached. They have given us the definition of a ‘state’ in the
contemplation of public or international law, and have at once
applied that definition and the conclusions based upon it, to the
States of the American Union and the effects of war upon them. Let
us examine the two meanings of the word, and endeavor to keep them
distinct in their application to the questions before us.
“Phillimore, the great English publicist, says: ‘For all the
purposes of international law, a state (_demos_, _civitas_, _volk_)
may be defined to be a people permanently occupying a fixed
territory, bound together by common laws, habits, and customs, into
one body-politic, exercising through the medium of an organized
government, independent sovereignty and control over all persons and
things within its boundaries, capable of making war and peace, and
of entering into all international relations with the other
communities of the globe.’—_Phillimore’s International Law_, vol. i,
sec. 65.
“Substantially the same definition maybe found in Grotius, book one,
chapter one, section fourteen; in Burlamaqui, volume two, part one,
chapter four, section nine; and in Vattel, book one, chapter one.
The primary point of agreement in all these authorities is, that in
contemplation of international law a state is absolutely sovereign,
acknowledging no superior on earth. In that sense the United States
is a state, a sovereign state, just as Great Britain, France, and
Russia are states.
“But what is the meaning of the word State as applied to Ohio or
Alabama? Is either of them a state in the sense of international
law? They lack all the leading requisites of such a state. They are
only the geographical subdivisions of a state; and though endowed by
the people of the United States with the rights of local
self-government, yet in all their external relations their
sovereignty is completely destroyed, being merged in the supreme
Federal Government.—_Halleck’s International Law_, sec. 16, page 71.
“Ohio can not make war; can not conclude peace; can not make a
treaty with any foreign government, can not even make a compact with
her sister States; can not regulate commerce; can not coin money;
and has no flag. These indispensable attributes of sovereignty, the
State of Ohio does not possess, nor does any other State of the
Union. We call them States for want of a better name. We call them
States, because the original Thirteen had been so designated before
the Constitution was formed, but that Constitution destroyed all the
sovereignty which those States were ever supposed to possess in
reference to external affairs.
“I submit, Mr. Speaker, that the five great publicists—Grotius,
Puffendorf, Bynkershoek, Burlamaqui, and Vattel, who have been so
often quoted in this debate, and all of whom wrote more than a
quarter of a century, and some nearly two centuries before our
Constitution was formed, can hardly be quoted as good authorities in
regard to the nature and legal relationships of the component States
of the American Union.
“Even my colleague from the Columbus District [Mr. Shellabarger], in
his very able discussion of this question, spoke as though a State
of this Union was the same as a state in the sense of international
law, with certain qualities added. I think he must admit that nearly
all the leading attributes of such a state are taken from it when it
becomes a State of the Union.
“Several gentlemen, during this debate, have quoted the well known
doctrine of international law, ‘that war annuls all existing
compacts and treaties between belligerents;’ and they have
concluded, therefore, that our war has broken the Federal bond and
dissolved the Union. This would be true, if the rebel States were
_states_ in the sense of international law—if our Government were
not a sovereign nation, but only a league between sovereign states.
I oppose to this conclusion the unanswerable proposition that this
_is_ a nation; that the rebel States are _not_ sovereign states, and
therefore their failure to achieve independence was a failure to
break the Federal bond—to dissolve the Union....
“In view of the peculiar character of our Government, in what
condition did the war leave the rebel States?”
He argued that by the admission of a State to the Union, the laws of the
United States were extended to it. _A State might violate one of these
laws, but could not annul it._ Each rebel State exerted every power to
break away from these laws, but was unable to destroy or invalidate one
of them. Each rebel State let go of the Union, but the Union did not let
go of it:
“Let the stars of heaven illustrate our constellation of States.
When God launched the planets upon their celestial pathway, He bound
them all by the resistless power of attraction to the central sun,
around which they revolved in their appointed orbits. Each may be
swept by storms, may be riven by lightnings, may be rocked by
earthquakes, may be devastated by all the terrestrial forces and
overwhelmed in ruin, but far away in the everlasting depths the
sovereign sun holds the turbulent planet in its place. This earth
may be overwhelmed until the high hills are covered by the sea; it
may tremble with earthquakes miles below the soil, but it must still
revolve in its appointed orbit. So Alabama may overwhelm all her
municipal institutions in ruin, but she can not annul the omnipotent
decrees of the sovereign people of the Union. She must be held
forever in her orbit of obedience and duty.
* * * * *
“Now, let us inquire how the surrender of the military power of the
rebellion affected the legal condition of those States. When the
rebellion collapsed, and the last armed man of the Confederacy
surrendered to our forces, I affirm that there was not in one of
those States a single government that we did or could recognize.
There was not in one of those States, from governor down to
constable, a single man whom we could recognize as authorized to
exercise any official function whatever. They had formed governments
alien and hostile to the Union. Not only had their officers taken no
oaths to support the Constitution of the United States, but they had
heaped oath upon oath to destroy it.
“I go further. I hold that there were in those States no
constitutions of any binding force and effect; none that we could
recognize. A constitution, in this case, can mean nothing less than
a constitution of government. A constitution must constitute
something, or it is no constitution. When we speak of the
constitution of Alabama, we mean the constitution of the government
of Alabama. When the rebels surrendered, there remained no
constitution in Alabama, because there remained no government. Those
States reverted into our hands by victorious war, with every
municipal right and every municipal authority utterly and completely
swept away.”
After citing from the highest authorities on the laws of war, he sums up
the legal status of the rebellious states as follows:
“1. That, by conquest, the United States obtained complete control
of the rebel territory.
“2. That every vestige of municipal authority in those States was,
by secession, rebellion, and the conquest of the rebellion, utterly
destroyed.
“3. That the state of war did not terminate with the actual
cessation of hostilities, but that, under the laws of war, it was
the duty of the President, as commander-in-chief, to establish
governments over the conquered people of the insurgent States, which
governments, no matter what may be their form, are really military
governments, deriving their sole power from the President.
“4. That the governments thus established, are valid while the state
of war continues and until Congress acts in the case.
“5. That it belongs exclusively to the legislative authority of the
Government to determine the political status of the insurgent
States, either by adopting the governments the President has
established, or by permitting the people to form others, subject to
the approval of Congress.
“It was time for Congress to act. That action should recognize,
first, the stupendous facts of the war. By the Emancipation
Proclamation we not only declared the slaves free, but pledged the
faith of the nation _to ‘maintain their freedom.’_ What is freedom?
It is no mere negative; no mere privilege of not being chained,
bought and sold, branded or scourged. It is a tangible realization
of the truths that ‘all men are created free and equal,’ and that
the sanction of just government is the ‘consent of the governed.’
“These truths can never be realized until each man has a right to be
heard in all matters concerning himself....
“I remember an incident in the history of the eastern church, as
recorded by Gibbon, volume two, chapter twenty-eight, which
illustrates the power that slavery has exercised among us. The
Christians of that day, under the lead of Theophilus, undertook to
destroy the heathen temples. Gibbon says:
“‘Theophilus proceeded to demolish the temple of Serapis without any
other difficulties than those which he found in the weight and
solidity of the materials, but these obstacles proved so insuperable
that he was obliged to leave the foundations and to content himself
with reducing the edifice itself to a heap of rubbish, a part of
which was soon afterward cleared away to make room for a church,
erected in honor of the Christian martyrs.
“‘The colossal statue of Serapis was involved in the ruin of his
temple and religion. A great number of plates of different metals,
artificially joined together, composed the majestic figure of the
deity, who touched on either side the walls of the sanctuary. The
aspect of Serapis, his sitting posture, and the scepter, which he
bore in his left hand, were extremely similar to the ordinary
representations of Jupiter. He was distinguished from Jupiter by the
basket, or bushel, which was placed on his head, and by the
emblematic monster which he held in his right hand, the head and
body of a serpent branching into three tails, which were again
terminated by the triple heads of a dog, a lion, and a wolf. It was
confidently affirmed that if any impious hand should dare to violate
the majesty of the god, the heavens and earth would instantly return
to the original chaos. An intrepid soldier, animated by zeal, and
armed with a weighty battle-ax, ascended the ladder, and even the
Christian multitude expected with some anxiety the event of the
combat. He aimed a vigorous stroke against the cheek of Serapis; the
cheek fell to the ground; the thunder was still silent, and both the
heavens and the earth continued to preserve their accustomed order
and tranquillity. The victorious soldier repeated his blows, the
huge idol was overthrown and broken in pieces, and the limbs of
Serapis were ignominiously dragged through the streets of
Alexandria. His mangled carcass was burnt in the amphitheater amid
the shouts of the populace, and many persons attributed their
conversion to this discovery of the impotence of their tutelary
deity.’
“So slavery sat in our national Capitol. Its huge bulk filled the
temple of our liberty, touching it from side to side. Mr. Lincoln,
on the 1st of January, 1863, struck it on the cheek, and the
faithless and unbelieving among us expected to see the fabric of our
institutions dissolve into chaos because their idol had fallen. He
struck it again; Congress and the States repeated the blow, and its
unsightly carcass lies rotting in our streets. The sun shines in the
heavens brighter than before. Let us remove the carcass and leave
not a vestige of the monster. We shall never have done that until we
have dared to come up to the spirit of the Pilgrim covenant of 1620,
and declare that all men shall be consulted in regard to the
disposition of their lives, liberty, and property. The Pilgrim
fathers proceeded on the doctrine that every man was supposed to
know best what he wanted, and had the right to a voice in the
disposition of himself.”
A second fact to be recognized was that 7,000,000 white men were waiting
to have their case adjudged and their political status fixed.
“As to _persons_ we must see to it that hereafter personal liberty
and personal rights are placed in the keeping of the nation; that
the right to life, liberty, and property are to be guaranteed to
citizens in reality, and not left to the caprice of mobs and
contingencies of local legislation.... As to _States_, the burden of
proof rests on each one of them, to show whether it is fit to enter
the Federal circle in full communion of privileges. Men can not
change their hearts—love what they hated, and hate what they
loved—upon the issue of a battle; but our duty is to demand that
before we admit them they shall give sufficient assurance that,
whatever they believe or wish, their action in the future shall be
such as loyal men can approve.”
How far does that speech differ from the reconstruction policy actually
adopted?
Thirteen years later, on June 27, 1879, the pending bill being one for
the appropriations for United States marshals, General Garfield said:
“Mr. Chairman: ‘To this favor’ it has come at last. The great fleet
that set out on the 18th of March, with all its freightage and
armament, is so shattered that now all the valuables it carried are
embarked in this little craft, to meet whatever fate the sea and the
storm may offer. This little bill contains the residuum of almost
every thing that has been the subject of controversy at the present
session. I will not discuss it in detail, but will speak only of its
central feature, and especially of the opinions which the discussion
of that feature has brought to the surface during the present
session. The majority in this Congress have adopted what I consider
very extreme and dangerous opinions on certain important
constitutional questions. They have not only drifted back to their
old attitude on the subject of State Sovereignty, but they have
pushed that doctrine much further than most of their predecessors
ever went before, except during the period immediately preceding the
late war.
“Let me summarize them: First, there are no national elections;
second, the United States has no voters; third, the States have the
exclusive right to control all elections of members of Congress;
fourth, the senators and representatives in Congress are State
officers, or, as they have been called during the present session,
‘embassadors’ or ‘agents’ of the State; fifth, the United States has
no authority to keep the peace anywhere within a State, and, in
fact, has no peace to keep; sixth, the United States is not a Nation
endowed with sovereign power, but is a confederacy of States;
seventh, the States are sovereignties possessing inherent supreme
powers; they are older than the Union, and as independent
sovereignties the state governments created the Union and determined
and limited the powers of the General Government.
“These declarations embody the sum total of the constitutional
doctrines which the Democracy has avowed during this extra session
of Congress. They form a body of doctrines which I do not hesitate
to say are more extreme than was ever before held on this subject,
except, perhaps, at the very crisis of secession and rebellion.
“Firmly believing that these doctrines and attempted practice of the
present Congress are erroneous and pernicious, I will state briefly
the counter-propositions:
“I affirm: first, that the Constitution of the United States was not
created by the governments of the States, but was ordained and
established by the only sovereign in this country—the common
superior of both the States and the Nation—the people themselves;
second, that the United States is a Nation, having a government
whose powers, as defined and limited by the Constitution, operate
upon all the States in their corporate capacity and upon all the
people; third, that by its legislative, executive, and judicial
authority the Nation is armed with adequate power to enforce all the
provisions of the Constitution against all opposition of individuals
or of States, at all times and all places within the Union.
“These are broad propositions; and I take the few minutes remaining
to defend them. The constitutional history of this country, or,
rather, the history of sovereignty and government in this country,
is comprised in four sharply defined epochs:
“First. Prior to the 4th day of July, 1776, sovereignty, so far as
it can be affirmed of this country, was lodged in the crown of Great
Britain. Every member of every colony (the colonists were not
citizens, but subjects) drew his legal rights from the crown of
Great Britain. ‘Every acre of land in this country was then held
mediately or immediately by grants from that crown,’ and ‘all the
civil authority then existing or exercised here flowed from the head
of the British empire.’
“Second. On the 4th day of July, 1776, the people of these colonies,
asserting their natural inherent right as sovereigns, withdrew the
sovereignty from the crown of Great Britain, and reserved it to
themselves. In so far as they delegated this national authority at
all, they delegated it to the Continental Congress assembled at
Philadelphia. That Congress, by general consent, became the supreme
government of this country—executive, judicial, and legislative in
one. During the whole of its existence it wielded the supreme power
of the new Nation.
“Third. On the 1st day of March, 1781, the same sovereign power, the
people, withdrew the authority from the Continental Congress, and
lodged it, so far as they lodged it at all, with the Confederation,
which, though a league of States, was declared to be a perpetual
union.
“Fourth. When at last our fathers found the Confederation too weak
and inefficient for the purposes of a great nation, they abolished
it, and lodged the national authority, enlarged and strengthened by
new powers, in the Constitution of the United States, where, in
spite of all assaults, it still remains. All these great acts were
done by the only sovereign in this Republic, the people themselves.
“That no one may charge that I pervert history to sustain my own
theories, I call attention to the fact that not one of the colonies
declared itself free and independent. Neither Virginia nor
Massachusetts threw off its allegiance to the British crown as a
colony. The great declaration was made not even by all the colonies
as colonies, but it was made in the name and by authority of ‘all
the good people of the colonies’ as one people.
“Mr. Chairman, the dogma of State Sovereignty, which has re-awakened
to such vigorous life in this chamber, has borne such bitter fruits
and entailed such suffering upon our people that it deserves more
particular notice. It should be noticed that the word ‘sovereignty’
can not be fitly applied to any government in this country. It is
not found in our constitution. It is a feudal word, born of the
despotism of the Middle Ages, and was unknown even in imperial Rome.
A ‘sovereign’ is a person, a prince, who has subjects that owe him
allegiance. There is no one paramount sovereign in the United
States. There is no person here who holds any title or authority
whatever, except the official authority given him by law. Americans
are not subjects, but citizens. Our only sovereign is the whole
people. To talk about the ‘inherent sovereignty’ of a corporation—an
artificial person—is to talk nonsense; and we ought to reform our
habit of speech on that subject.
“But what do gentlemen mean when they tell us that a State is
sovereign? What does sovereignty mean in its accepted use, but a
political corporation having no superior? Is a State of this Union
such a corporation? Let us test it by a few examples drawn from the
Constitution. No State of this Union can make war or conclude a
peace. Without the consent of Congress it can not raise or support
an army or a navy. It can not make a treaty with a foreign power,
nor enter into any agreement or compact with another State. It can
not levy imposts or duties on imports nor exports. It can not coin
money. It can not regulate commerce. It can not authorize a single
ship to go into commission anywhere on the high seas; if it should,
that ship would be seized as a pirate or confiscated by the laws of
the United States. A State can not emit bills of credit. It can
enact no law which makes any thing but gold and silver a legal
tender. It has no flag except the flag of the Union. And there are
many other subjects on which the States are forbidden by the
Constitution to legislative.
“How much inherent sovereignty is left in a corporation which is
thus shorn of all these great attributes of sovereignty?
“But this is not all. The Supreme Court of the United States may
declare null and void any law or any clause of the constitution of a
State which happens to be in conflict with the Constitution and laws
of the United States. Again, the States appear as plaintiffs and
defendants before the Supreme Court of the United States. They may
sue each other; and, until the Eleventh Amendment was adopted, a
citizen might sue a State. These ‘sovereigns’ may all be summoned
before their common superior to be judged. And yet they are endowed
with supreme inherent sovereignty!
“Again, the government of a State may be absolutely abolished by
Congress, in case it is not republican in form. And, finally, to cap
the climax of this absurd pretension, every right possessed by one
of these ‘sovereign’ States, every inherent sovereign right, except
the single right to equal representation in the Senate, may be taken
away, without its consent, by the vote of two-thirds of Congress and
three-fourths of the States. But, in spite of all these
disabilities, we hear them paraded as independent, sovereign States,
the creators of the Union and the dictators of its powers. How
inherently ‘sovereign’ must be that State west of the Mississippi
which the Nation bought and paid for with the public money, and
permitted to come into the Union a half century after the
Constitution was adopted! And yet we are told that the States are
inherently sovereign and created the National Government.
“The dogma of State Sovereignty in alliance with chattel slavery
made its appeal to that court of last resort where the laws are
silent, and where kings and nations appear in arms for judgment. In
that awful court of war two questions were tried: Shall slavery
live? And is a State so sovereign that it may nullify the laws and
destroy the Union? These two questions were tried on the thousand
battle-fields of the war; and if war ever ‘legislates,’ as a leading
Democrat of Ohio once wisely affirmed, then our war legislated
finally upon those subjects, and determined, beyond all controversy,
that slavery should never again live in this Republic, and that
there is not sovereignty enough in any State to authorize its people
either to destroy the Union or nullify its laws.”
Ten years ago a biographer who loved Garfield and cared for his fame
would have omitted the speech from which we are about to give extracts.
It is, however, no secret that, in 1871, General Garfield split with his
party upon what was known in contemporary politics as “The Force Bill.”
This bill was drawn, under the provisions of the Fourteenth Amendment,
to protect the Republicans of the Southern States from outrage and
murder. The President had laid before Congress a most terrible state of
affairs. The Ku-Klux Klan, that bloody and mysterious organization,
which was the terror of loyal men, and the guilty perpetrator of
unnumbered crimes, thrust its hideous head into the face of the men who
had fought for the Union. Murder, ostracism, incendiarism, bull-dozing,
intimidation, ballot-box stuffing, and a thousand other outrages were
committed. The best picture of the time is in “The Fool’s Errand.” These
things, perhaps, (we do not say so) magnified by fear, hate, and
political rancor, were too much for the Republican Congress and the men
who had worn the blue under Southern skies. There was terrible
bitterness. Revenge darkened the Northern heart. The majority in
Congress resolved to clutch the demon’s throat with the iron grip of
law. In a former chapter we spoke of the battle as an experience, and
how it perpetually reproduced itself in the mind of its participants.
The illustration of that is found in the attitude of President Grant and
the soldier majority in Congress at the time of which we are writing.
The “Force Bill” was really a tremendous battery. It was surrounded with
sulphurous smoke, and was as grim as death.
But to the rule General Garfield was an exception. At the close of the
war, he said, we passed into another political epoch. He believed in the
Nation, but the calm balance of his mind refused assent to any extreme
measure. There was no wavering on the supremacy of the Nation. But after
all this was a Republic, and despotism, the one extreme, was as fatal as
disunion, the other. General Garfield opposed the extreme parts of the
“Force Bill.” He looked to the future of our country as well as the
past. We summarize his elaborate speech:
THE FORCE BILL.
“Mr. Speaker: I am not able to understand the mental organization of
the man who can consider this bill, and the subject of which it
treats, as free from very great difficulties. He must be a man of
very moderate abilities, whose ignorance is bliss, or a man of
transcendant genius whom no difficulties can daunt and whose clear
vision no cloud obscures.
“The distinguished gentleman [Mr. Shellabarger] who introduced the
bill from the committee, very appropriately said that it requires us
to enter upon unexplored territory. That territory, Mr. Speaker, is
the neutral ground of all political philosophy; the neutral ground
for which rival theories have been struggling in all ages. There are
two ideas so utterly antagonistic that, when in any nation, either
has gained absolute and complete possession of that neutral ground,
the ruin of that nation has invariably followed. The one is that
despotism which swallows and absorbs all power in a single-central
government; the other is that extreme doctrine of local sovereignty
which makes nationality impossible, and resolves a general
government into anarchy and chaos. It makes but little difference,
as to the final result, which of these ideas drives the other from
the field; in either case ruin follows.
“The result exhibited by the one was seen in the Amphictyonic and
Achæan leagues of ancient Greece, of which Madison, in the twentieth
number of the _Federalist_, says:
“‘The inevitable result of all was imbecility in the government,
discord among the provinces, foreign influences and indignities, a
precarious existence in peace, and peculiar calamities in war.’
“This is a fitting description of all nations which have carried the
doctrine of local self-government so far as to exclude the doctrine
of nationality. They were not nations, but mere leagues, bound
together by common consent, ready to fall to pieces at the demand of
any refractory member. The opposing idea was never better
illustrated than when Louis XIV. entered the French Assembly, booted
and spurred, and girded with the sword of ancestral kings, and said
to the Deputies of France: ‘The State! I am the State!’
“Between these opposite and extreme theories of government, the
people have been tossed from century to century; and it has been
only when these ideas have been in reasonable equipoise, when this
neutral ground has been held in joint occupancy, and usurped by
neither, that popular liberty and national life have been possible.
How many striking illustrations of this do we see in the history of
France! The deposition of Louis XIV., followed by the Reign of
Terror, when liberty had run mad and France was a vast scene of
blood and ruin! We see it again in our day. Only a few years ago,
the theory of personal government had placed in the hands of
Napoleon III., absolute and irresponsible power. The communes of
France were crushed, and local liberty existed no longer. Then
followed Sedan and the rest. On the first day of last month, when
France was trying to rebuild her ruined Government, when the
Prussian cannon had scarcely ceased thundering against the walls of
Paris, a deputy of France rose in the National Assembly and moved,
as the first step toward the safety of his country, that a committee
of thirty should be chosen, to be called the Committee of
Decentralization. But it was too late to save France from the
fearful reaction from despotism. The news comes to us, under the
sea, that on Saturday last, the cry was ringing through France:
‘Death to the Priests!’ and ‘Death to the Rich!’ and the swords of
the citizens of that new republic are now wet with each other’s
blood.
EQUIPOISE OF OUR GOVERNMENT.
“The records of time show no nobler or wiser work done by human
hands than that of our fathers when they framed this Republic.
Beginning in a wilderness world, they wrought unfettered by
precedent, untrammeled by custom, unawed by kings or dynasties. With
the history of other nations before them, they surveyed the new
field. In the progress of their work they encountered these
antagonistic ideas to which I have referred. They attempted to trace
through that neutral ground the boundary line across which neither
force should pass. The result of their labors is our Constitution
and frame of government. I never contemplate the result without
feeling that there was more than mortal wisdom in the men who
produced it. It has seemed to me that they borrowed their thought
from Him who constructed the universe and put it in motion. For
nothing more aptly describes the character of our Republic than the
solar system, launched into space by the hand of the Creator, where
the central sun is the great power around which revolve all the
planets in their appointed orbits. But while the sun holds in the
grasp of its attractive power the whole system, and imparts its
light and heat to all, yet each individual planet is under the sway
of laws peculiar to itself.
“Under the sway of terrestrial laws, winds blow, waters flow, and
all the tenantries of the planet live and move. So, sir, the States
move on in their orbits of duty and obedience, bound to the central
Government by this Constitution, which is their supreme law, while
each State is making laws and regulations of its own, developing its
own energies, maintaining its own industries, managing its local
affairs in its own way, subject only to the supreme but beneficent
control of the Union. When States Rights ran mad, put on the form of
secession, and attempted to drag the States out of Union, we saw the
grand lessons taught, in all the battles of the late war, that a
State could no more be hurled from the Union, without ruin to the
Nation, than could a planet be thrown from its orbit without
dragging after it, to chaos and ruin, the whole solar universe.
“Sir, the great war for the Union has vindicated the centripetal
power of the Nation, and has exploded, forever I trust, the
disorganizing theory of State Sovereignty, which slavery attempted
to impose upon this country. But we should never forget that there
is danger in the opposite direction. The destruction, or serious
crippling of the principle of local government, would be as fatal to
liberty as secession would have been fatal to the Union.
“The first experiment which our fathers tried in government-making
after the War of Independence was a failure, because the central
power conferred in the Articles of Confederation was not strong
enough. The second, though nobly conceived, became almost a failure,
because slavery attempted so to interpret the Constitution as to
reduce the nation again to a confederacy, a mere league between
sovereign States. But we have now vindicated and secured the
centripetal power; let us see that the centrifugal force is not
destroyed, but that the grand and beautiful equipoise may be
maintained.
“It will not be denied that before the adoption of the last three
amendments, it was the settled interpretation of the Constitution
that the protection of the life and property of private citizens
belonged to the State governments entirely.... Now three amendments
have been added to the Constitution, and it will not be denied that
each of these amendments has changed the relation of Congress to the
citizens of the States.”
Garfield spoke with his eye on the future: “This debate will become
historic as the earliest legislative interpretation of the Fourteenth
Amendment,” he said. He reviewed the debates accompanying the adoption
of the Fourteenth Amendment. Two propositions had been before Congress.
The essential parts of the one adopted were—
“The Congress shall have power to enforce by appropriate
legislation, the following provisions, to wit:
“No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the
privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall
any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property without
due process of law, nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction
the equal protection of the laws.
“And this is the rejected clause:
“The Congress shall have power to make all laws which may be
necessary and proper to secure to the citizens in these several
States equal protection in the rights of life, liberty, and
property.
“The one exerts its force directly upon the States, laying
restriction and limitations upon their power, and enabling Congress
to enforce these limitations. The other, the rejected proposition,
would have brought the power of Congress to bear directly upon the
citizens, and contained a clear grant of power to Congress to
legislate directly for the protection of life, liberty, and property
within the States. The first limited, but did not oust the
jurisdiction of the State over these subjects. The second gave
Congress plenary power to cover the whole subject with its
jurisdiction, and, as it seems to me, to the exclusion of the State
authorities.
“Mr. Speaker, unless we ignore both the history and the language of
these clauses we can not, by any reasonable interpretation, give to
the section as it stands in the Constitution, the force and effect
of the rejected clause.”
Then followed an exhaustive discussion of the different clauses of the
Fourteenth Amendment, after which he passed to the provisions of the
pending bill. Southern outrages had been stated by the President to
exist. The trouble was not unequal laws, but their maladministration and
denial of protection under them. This demanded legislation. But Congress
had no power to assume original jurisdiction of the matter. It could
only define and declare the offense, and should employ no terms which
asserted the power of Congress to take jurisdiction, _until such denial
of rights was clearly made_. Passing then to the extreme and most
objectionable parts of the bill he said:
“But, Mr. Speaker, there is one provision in the fourth section
which appears to me both unwise and unnecessary. It is proposed not
only to authorize the suspension of the privileges of the writ of
_habeas corpus_, but to authorize the declaration of martial law in
the disturbed districts.
“I do not deny, but I affirm, the right of Congress to authorize the
suspension of the privileges of the writ of _habeas corpus_
whenever, in cases of rebellion or invasion, the public safety may
require it. Such action has been, and may again be, necessary to the
safety of the Republic; but I call the attention of the House to the
fact that never but once in the history of this Government has
Congress suspended the great privileges of this writ, and then it
was not done until after two years of war had closed all the
ordinary tribunals of justice in the rebellious districts, and the
great armies of the Union, extending from Maryland to the Mexican
line, were engaged in a death-struggle with the armies of the
rebellion. It was not until the third day of March, 1863, that the
Congress of the United States found the situation so full of peril
as to make it their duty to suspend this greatest privilege enjoyed
by Anglo-Saxon people. Are we ready to say that an equal peril
confronts us to-day?
“My objections to authorizing this suspension implies no distrust of
the wisdom or patriotism of the President. I do not believe he would
employ this power were we to confer it upon him; and if he did
employ it, I do not doubt he would use it with justice and wisdom.
But what we do on this occasion will be quoted as a precedent
hereafter, when other men with other purposes may desire to confer
this power on another President for purposes that may not aid in
securing public liberty and public peace.
“But this section provides no safeguard for citizens who may be
arrested during the suspension of the writ. There is no limit to the
time during which men may be held as prisoners. Nothing in the
section requires them to be delivered over to the courts. Nothing in
it gives them any other protection than the will of the commander
who orders their arrest.”
* * * * *
“But, sir, this fourth section goes a hundred bow-shots farther than
any similar legislation of Congress during the wildest day of the
rebellion. It authorizes the declaration of martial law. We are
called upon to provide by law for the suspension of all law! Do
gentlemen remember what martial law is? Refer to the digest of
opinions of the Judge Advocate-General of the United States, and you
will find a terse definition which gleams like a flash of a
sword-blade. The Judge Advocate says: ‘Martial law is the will of
the general who commands the army.’ And Congress is here asked to
declare martial law. Why, sir, it is the pride and boast of England
that martial law has not existed in that country since the Petition
of Right in the thirty-first year of Charles II. Three years ago the
Lord Chief-Justice of England came down from the high court over
which he was presiding to review the charge of another judge to the
grand jury, and he there announced that the power to declare martial
law no longer existed in England. In 1867, the same judge, in the
case of the Queen _vs_ Nelson, uttered this sentence:
“‘There is no such law in existence as martial law, and no power in
the Crown to proclaim it.’
“In a recent treatise, entitled _The Nation_, a work of great power
and research, the author, Mr. Mulford, says: ‘The declaration of
martial law, or the suspension of _habeas corpus_, is the
intermission of the ordinary course of law, and of the tribunals to
which an appeal may be made. It places the locality included in its
operations no longer under the government of law. It interrupts the
process of rights and the procedure of courts and restricts the
independence of civil administration. There is substituted for these
the intention of the individual. To this there is in the civil order
no formal limitation. In its immediate action it allows beyond
itself no obligation and acknowledges no responsibility. Its command
or its decree is the only law; its movement may be secret, and its
decisions are opened to the inquiry of no judge and the
investigation of no tribunal. There is no positive power which may
act, or be called upon to act, to stay its caprice or to check its
arbitrary career since judgment and execution are in its own
command, and the normal action and administration is suspended and
the organized force of the whole is subordinate to it.’
“Sir, this provision means war, or it means nothing; and I ask this
House whether we are now ready to take this step? Shall we ‘cry
havoc and let slip the dogs of war?’
“I have taken a humble part in one war, and I hope I shall always be
ready to do any duty that the necessities of the country may require
of me; but I am not willing to talk war or to declare war in advance
of the terrible necessity. Are there no measures within our reach
which may aid in preventing war? When a savage war lately threatened
our Western frontiers we sent our Commissioners of Peace in the hope
of avoiding war. Have we done all in our power to avoid that which
this section contemplates? I hope the committee will bring a
companion measure that looks toward peace and enable us to send the
olive branch with the sword.”
This speech marked the separation of General Garfield from the Stalwart
wing of the Republican party. It was never forgiven nor forgotten. It
showed his balance of mind, his avoidance of extremes. The time when he
delivered it was one of extremes. It was an epoch of reaction. It was
verging toward the period when Sumner and Adams and Greeley were to
forsake the party they had helped to create. It was a time when the
fierce passions of war were beginning to find an opponent in the
struggling instinct of reunion and peace. It was a time when the great
radicals, who had fought slavery to its death, were to swing to the
other extreme of loving gush and apologetic forgiveness toward a South
which sat crouching in the Temple of Liberty, still maddened with the
wild insanity of war. It was a time, on the other hand, when the great
war leaders, gorged with the bloody spoils of victory, were to know no
forgiveness, no forgetfulness, but to plant the iron heel of despotism
upon the prostrate and bleeding foe. In this time of extremes General
Garfield took the middle course. He remained a true Republican, but he
recoiled from brutalism toward the South. Now that the passions of the
hour have passed away, we believe that his speech on the enforcement of
the Fourteenth Amendment will stand as the wisest utterance of the
times. It rises above the level of partisanship to that of
statesmanship. In the midst of the tempest of popular excitement over
Southern outrages he was calm. As he afterwards said in his nominating
speech at Chicago:
“It is not the billows, but the calm level of the sea from which all
heights and depths are measured. When the storm has passed and the
hour of calm settles on the ocean, when sunlight bathes its smooth
surface, then the astronomer and surveyor takes the level from which
he measures all terrestrial heights and depths.”
This was the secret of all of Garfield’s views. In spite of political
fears and dogmas, in spite of partisan doubts and dismay, he was right.
Therefore, in his answers to the great questions affecting the
nationality of the United States, James A. Garfield is entitled to the
historic rank of statesman.
We will next inquire to what rank Garfield’s utterances on questions
affecting THE FINANCIAL AND MONETARY SYSTEMS OF THE UNITED STATES
BELONG. It has been noticed that this and the succeeding topic formed
General Garfield’s specialty. In the epoch in which he lived they were
the paramount themes of politics. He himself called the financial
question the modern political Sphinx. For the last eight years,
inflation, hard money, greenbacks, etc., had been discussed from every
point of the compass, in every key and to every tune. Men thought it was
a new thing. Years before the public clamor, General Garfield took his
position on the financial question. He foresaw and foretold the
experience of the country before the public mind had rolled its heavy
eyes toward the subject. It has been claimed that on the financial
question Garfield was ten years ahead of his generation; that he was a
pioneer and leader in every sense in the advance toward the resumption
of specie payments and a stable currency. Not in 1874, when the first
great inflation bill ran its rapid career, nor in 1876, nor 1878, when
the advocates of paper money had organized themselves into a political
party, did he come forward with arguments on the currency for the first
time. It was in 1866 that he turned the first furrow in Congress. On
March 16th of that year, he enunciated, in a short but vigorous speech,
the basal principles of finance, which in later efforts he was to
elaborate and fortify with every argument or authority which could
appeal to the human understanding. From that first position Garfield
never receded. Not for a moment did he cease to regard irredeemable and
inflated paper currency an unmixed evil, and resumption as the main end
of the legislation of the epoch. His speeches on finance cover the
entire field, and are very numerous. From two or three we present
copious extracts. On May 15, 1868, he delivered a speech which was, and
is, a complete manual of the principles of sound financial policy:
“I am aware that financial subjects are dull and uninviting in
comparison with those heroic themes which have absorbed the
attention of Congress for the last five years. To turn from the
consideration of armies and navies, victories and defeats, to the
array of figures which exhibits the debt, expenditure, taxation, and
industry of the nation, requires no little courage and self-denial;
but to these questions we must come, and to their solution Congress,
political parties, and all thoughtful citizens must give their best
efforts for many years to come.
“In April, 1861, there began in this country an industrial
revolution, not yet completed, as gigantic in its proportions, and
as far-reaching in its consequences, as the political and military
revolution through which we have passed. As the first step to any
intelligent discussion of the currency, it is necessary to examine
the character and progress of that industrial revolution.
“The year 1860 was one of remarkable prosperity in all branches of
business. For seventy years no Federal tax-gatherer had ever been
seen among the laboring population of the United States. Our public
debt was less than sixty-five million dollars. The annual
expenditures of the Government, including interest on the public
debt, were less than sixty-four million dollars. The revenues from
customs alone amounted to six-sevenths of the expenditures. The
value of our agricultural products for that year amounted to
$1,625,000,000. Our cotton crop alone was two billion one hundred
and fifty-five million pounds, and we supplied to the markets of the
world seven-eighths of all the cotton consumed. Our merchant marine
engaged in foreign trade amounted to two million five hundred and
forty-six thousand two hundred and thirty-seven tons, and promised
soon to rival the immense carrying trade of England.
“Let us now observe the effect of the war on the various departments
of business. From the moment the first hostile gun was fired, the
Federal and State governments became gigantic consumers. As far as
production was concerned, eleven States were completely separated
from the Union. Two million laborers, more than one-third of the
adult population of the Northern States, were withdrawn from the
ranks of producers, and became only consumers of wealth. The Federal
Government became an insatiable devourer. Leaving out of account the
vast sums expended by States, counties, cities, towns, and
individuals, for the payment of bounties, for the relief of sick and
wounded soldiers and their families, and omitting the losses, which
can never be estimated, of property destroyed by hostile armies, I
shall speak only of expenditures which appear on the books of the
Federal Treasury. From the 30th of June, 1861, to the 30th of June,
1865, there were paid out of the Federal Treasury $3,340,996,211,
making an aggregate during these four years of more than
$836,000,000 per annum.
“From the official records of the Treasury Department it appears
that, from the beginning of the American Revolution in 1775 to the
beginning of the late rebellion, the total expenditures of the
Government for all purposes, including the assumed war debts of the
States, amounted to $2,250,000,000. The expenditure of four years of
the rebellion were nearly $1,100,000,000 more than all the other
Federal expenses since the Declaration of Independence. The debt of
England, which had its origin in the revolution of 1688, and was
increased by more than one hundred years of war and other political
disasters, had reached in 1793 the sum of $1,268,000,000. During the
twenty-two years that followed, while England was engaged in a life
and death struggle with Napoleon (the greatest war in history save
our own), $3,056,000,000 were added to her debt. In our four years
of war we spent $300,000,000 more than the amount by which England
increased her debt in twenty-two years of war; almost as much as she
had increased it in one hundred and twenty-five years of war. Now,
the enormous demand which this expenditure created for all the
products of industry stimulated to an unparalleled degree every
department of business. The plow, furnace, mill, loom, railroad,
steamboat, telegraph—all were driven to their utmost capacity.
Warehouses were emptied; and the great reserves of supply, which all
nations in a normal state keep on hand, were exhausted to meet the
demands of the great consumer. For many months the Government
swallowed three millions per day of the products of industry. Under
the pressure of this demand, prices rose rapidly in every department
of business. Labor every-where found quick and abundant returns. Old
debts were canceled, and great fortunes were made.
“For the transaction of this enormous business an increased amount
of currency was needed; but I doubt if any member of this House can
be found bold enough to deny that the deluge of Treasury notes
poured upon the country during the war was far greater even than the
great demands of business. Let it not be forgotten, however, that
the chief object of these issues was not to increase the currency of
the country. They were authorized with great reluctance, and under
the pressure of overwhelming necessity, as a temporary expedient to
meet the demands of the Treasury. They were really forced loans in
the form of Treasury notes. By the act of July 17, 1861, an issue of
demand notes was authorized to the amount of $50,000,000. By the act
of August 5, 1861, this amount was increased $50,000,000 more. By
the act of February 25, 1862, an additional issue of $150,000,000
was authorized. On the 17th of the same month, an unlimited issue of
fractional currency was authorized. On the 17th of January, 1873, an
issue of $150,000,000 more was authorized, which was increased
$50,000,000 by the act of March 3d of the same year. This act also
authorized the issue of one and two years’ Treasury notes, bearing
interest at five per cent., to be a legal tender for their face, to
the amount of $400,000,000. By the act of June 30, 1864, an issue of
six per cent. compound-interest notes, to be a legal tender for
their face, was authorized, to the amount of $200,000,000. In
addition to this, many other forms of paper obligation were
authorized, which, though not a legal tender, performed many of the
functions of currency. By the act of March 1, 1862, the issue of an
unlimited amount of certificates of indebtedness was authorized, and
within ninety days after the passage of the act there had been
issued and were outstanding of these certificates more than
$156,000,000. Of course these issues were not all outstanding at the
same time, but the acts show how great was the necessity for loans
during the war.
“The law which made the vast volume of United States notes a legal
tender operated as an act of general bankruptcy. The man who loaned
$1,000 in July, 1861, payable in three years, was compelled by this
law to accept at maturity, as a full discharge of the debt, an
amount of currency equal in value to $350 of the money he loaned.
Private indebtedness was every-where canceled. Rising prices
increased the profits of business, but this prosperity was caused by
the great demand for products, and not by the abundance of paper
money. As a means of transacting the vast business of the country, a
great volume of currency was indispensable, and its importance can
not well be overestimated. But let us not be led into the fatal
error of supposing that paper money created the business or produced
the wealth. As well might it be alleged that our rivers and canals
produce the grain which they float to market. Like currency, the
channels of commerce stimulate production, but can not nullify the
inexorable law of demand and supply.
“Mr. Chairman, I have endeavored to trace the progress of our
industrial revolution in passing from peace to war. In returning
from war to peace all the conditions were reversed. At once the
Government ceased to be an all-devouring consumer. Nearly two
million able-bodied men were discharged from the army and navy and
enrolled in the ranks of the producers. The expenditures of the
Government, which, for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1865,
amounted to $1,290,000,000, were reduced to $520,000,000 in 1866; to
$346,000,000 in 1867; and, if the retrenchment measures recommended
by the Special Commissioner of the Revenue be adopted, another year
will bring them below $300,000,000.
“Thus during the first year after the war the demands of the Federal
Government as a consumer decreased sixty per cent.; and in the
second year the decrease had reached seventy-four per cent., with a
fair prospect of a still further reduction.
“The recoil of this sudden change would have produced great
financial disaster in 1866, but for the fact that there was still
open to industry the work of replacing the wasted reserves of
supply, which, in all countries in a healthy state of business, are
estimated to be sufficient for two years. During 1866, the fall in
price of all articles of industry amounted to an average of ten per
cent. One year ago a table was prepared, at my request, by Mr.
Edward Young, in the office of the Special Commissioner of the
Revenue, exhibiting a comparison of wholesale prices at New York in
December, 1865, and December, 1866. It shows that in ten leading
articles of provisions there was an average decline of twenty-two
per cent., though beef, flour, and other breadstuffs remained nearly
stationary. On cotton and woolen goods, boots, shoes, and clothing,
the decline was thirty per cent. On the products of manufacture and
mining, including coal, cordage, iron, lumber, naval stores, oils,
tallow, tin, and wool, the decline was twenty-five per cent. The
average decline on all commodities was at least ten per cent.
According to the estimates of the Special Commissioner of the
Revenue in his last report, the average decline during 1867 has
amounted at least to ten per cent. more. During the past two years
Congress has provided by law for reducing internal taxation
$100,000,000; and the act passed a few weeks ago has reduced the tax
on manufactures to the amount of $64,000,000 per annum. The repeal
of the cotton tax will make a further reduction of $20,000,000.
State and municipal taxation and expenditures have also been greatly
reduced. The work of replacing these reserves delayed the shock and
distributed its effects, but could not avert the inevitable result.
During the past two years, one by one, the various departments of
industry produced a supply equal to the demand. Then followed a
glutted market, a fall in prices, and a stagnation of business, by
which thousands of laborers were thrown out of employment.
“If to this it be added that the famine in Europe and the drought in
many of the agricultural States of the Union have kept the price of
provisions from falling as other commodities have fallen, we shall
have a sufficient explanation of the stagnation of business, and the
unusual distress among our people.
“This industrial revolution has been governed by laws beyond the
reach of Congress. No legislation could have arrested it at any
stage of its progress. The most that could possibly be done by
Congress was, to take advantage of the prosperity it occasioned to
raise a revenue for the support of the Government, and to mitigate
the severity of its subsequent pressure, by reducing the vast
machinery of war to the lowest scale possible. Manifestly nothing
can be more absurd than to suppose that the abundance of currency
produced by the prosperity of 1863, 1864, and 1865, or that the want
of it is the cause of our present stagnation.
“In order to reach a satisfactory understanding of the currency
question, it is necessary to consider somewhat fully the nature and
functions of money or any substitute for it.
“The theory of money which formed the basis of the ‘mercantile
system’ of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries has been
rejected by all leading financiers and political economists for the
last seventy-five years. That theory asserted that money is wealth;
that the great object of every nation should be to increase its
amount of gold and silver; that this was a direct increase of
national wealth.
“It is now held as an indisputable truth that money is an instrument
of trade, and performs but two functions. It is a measure of value
and a medium of exchange.
“In cases of simple barter, where no money is used, we estimate the
relative values of the commodities to be exchanged in dollars and
cents, it being our only universal measure of value.
“As a medium of exchange, money is to all business transactions what
ships are to the transportation of merchandise. If a hundred vessels
of a given tonnage are just sufficient to carry all the commodities
between two ports, any increase of the number of vessels will
correspondingly decrease the value of each as an instrument of
commerce; any decrease below one hundred will correspondingly
increase the value of each.
“The functions of money as a medium of exchange, though more
complicated in their application, are precisely the same in
principle as the functions of the vessels in the case I have
supposed.
“If we could ascertain the total value of all the exchanges effected
in this country by means of money in any year, and could ascertain
how many dollars’ worth of such exchanges can be effected in a year
by one dollar in money, we should know how much money the country
needed for the business transactions of that year. Any decrease
below that amount will correspondingly increase the value of each
dollar as an instrument of exchange. Any increase above that amount
will correspondingly decrease the value of each dollar. If that
amount be doubled, each dollar of the whole mass will perform but
half the amount of business it did before; will be worth but half
its former value as a medium of exchange.
“Recurring to our illustration: if, instead of sailing vessels,
steam vessels were substituted, a much smaller tonnage would be
required; so, if it were found that $500,000,000 of paper, each
worth seventy cents in gold, were sufficient for the business of the
country, it is equally evident that $350,000,000 of gold substituted
for the paper would perform precisely the same amount of business.
“It should be remembered, also, that any improvement in the mode of
transacting business, by which the actual use of money is in part
dispensed with, reduces the total amount needed by the country. How
much has been accomplished in this direction by recent improvements
in banking may be seen in the operations of the clearing-houses in
our great cities.
“The records of the New York Clearing House show that from October
11, 1853, the date of its establishment, to October 11, 1867, the
exchanges amounted to nearly $180,000,000,000; to effect which, less
than $8,000,000,000 of money were used, an average of about four per
cent.; that is, exchanges were made to the amount of $100,000,000 by
the payment of $4,000,000 of money.
“It is also a settled principle that all deposits in banks, drawn
upon by checks and drafts, really serve the purpose of money.
“The amount of currency needed in the country depends, as we have
seen, upon the amount of business transacted by means of money. The
amount of business, however, is varied by many causes which are
irregular and uncertain in their operation. An Indian war, deficient
or abundant harvests, an overflow of the cotton lands of the South,
a bread famine or war in Europe, and a score of such causes entirely
beyond the reach of legislation, may make money deficient this year
and abundant next. The needed amount varies also from month to month
in the same year. More money is required in the autumn, when the
vast products of agriculture are being moved to market, than when
the great army of laborers are in winter-quarters, awaiting the
seed-time.
“When the money of the country is gold and silver, it adapts itself
to the fluctuations of business without the aid of legislation. If,
at any time, we have more than is needed, the surplus flows off to
other countries through the channels of international commerce. If
less, the deficiency is supplied through the same channels. Thus the
monetary equilibrium is maintained. So immense is the trade of the
world that the golden streams pouring from California and Australia
in the specie circulation, are soon absorbed in the great mass and
equalized throughout the world, as the waters of all the rivers are
spread upon the surface of all the seas.
“Not so, however, with an inconvertible paper currency. Excepting
the specie used in the payment of customs and the interest on our
public debt, we are cut off from the money currents of the world.
Our currency resembles rather the waters of an artificial lake,
which lie in stagnation or rise to full banks at the caprice of the
gate-keeper.
“Gold and silver abhor depreciated paper money, and will not keep
company with it. If our currency be more abundant than business
demands, not a dollar of it can go abroad; if deficient, not a
dollar of gold will come in to supply the lack. There is no
legislature on earth wise enough to adjust such a currency to the
wants of the country.
“Let us examine more minutely the effect of such a currency upon
prices. Suppose that the business transactions of the country at the
present time require $350,000,000 in gold. It is manifest that if
there are just $350,000,000 of legal-tender notes, and no other
money in the country, each dollar will perform the full functions of
a gold dollar, so far as the work of exchange is concerned. Now,
business remaining the same, let $350,000,000 more of the same kind
of notes be pressed into circulation. The whole volume, as thus
increased, can do no more than all the business. Each dollar will
accomplish just half the work that a dollar did before the increase;
but as the nominal dollar is fixed by law, the effect is shown in
prices being doubled. It requires two of these dollars to make the
same purchase that one dollar made before the increase. It would
require some time for the business of the country to adjust itself
to the new conditions, and great derangement of values would ensue;
but the result would at last be reached in all transactions which
are controlled by the law of demand and supply.
“No such change of values can occur without cost. Somebody must pay
for it. Who pays in this case? We have seen that doubling the
currency finally results in reducing the purchasing power of each
dollar one-half; hence every man who held a legal-tender note at the
time of the increase, and continued to hold it till the full effect
of the increase was produced, suffered a loss of fifty per cent. of
its value; in other words, he paid a tax to the amount of half of
all the currency in his possession. This new issue, therefore, by
depreciating the value of all the currency, cost the holders of the
old issue $175,000,000; and if the new notes were received at their
nominal value at the date of issue, their holders paid a tax of
$175,000,000 more. No more unequal or unjust mode of taxation could
possibly be devised. It would be tolerated only by being so involved
in the transactions of business as to be concealed from observation;
but it would be no less real because hidden.
“But some one may say: ‘This depreciation would fall upon
capitalists and rich men, who are able to bear it.’
“If this were true, it would be no less unjust. But, unfortunately,
the capitalists would suffer less than any other class. The new
issue would be paid in the first place in large amounts to the
creditors of the Government; it would pass from their hands before
the depreciation had taken full effect, and, passing down step by
step through the ranks of middle-men, the dead weight would fall at
last upon the laboring classes in the increased price of all the
necessaries of life. It is well known that in a general rise of
prices, wages are among the last to rise. This principle was
illustrated in the report of the Special Commissioner of the Revenue
for the year 1866. It is there shown that from the beginning of the
war to the end of 1866, the average price of all commodities had
risen ninety per cent. Wages, however, had risen but sixty per cent.
A day’s labor would purchase but two-thirds as many of the
necessaries of life as it would before. The wrong is, therefore,
inflicted on the laborer long before his income can be adjusted to
his increased expenses. It was, in view of this truth, that Daniel
Webster said, in one of his ablest speeches:
“‘Of all the contrivances for cheating the laboring classes of
mankind, none has been more effectual than that which deludes them
with paper money. This is the most effectual of inventions to
fertilize the rich man’s field by the sweat of the poor man’s brow.
Ordinary tyranny, oppression, excessive taxation, these bear lightly
on the happiness of the mass of the community, compared with a
fraudulent currency and the robberies committed by depreciated
paper.’
“The fraud committed and the burdens imposed upon the people, in the
case we have supposed, would be less intolerable if all business
transactions could be really adjusted to the new conditions; but
even this is impossible. All debts would be canceled, all contracts
fulfilled by payment in these notes—not at their real value, but for
their face. All salaries fixed by law, the pay of every soldier in
the army, of every sailor in the navy, and all pensions and
bounties, would be reduced to half their former value. In these
cases the effect is only injurious. Let it never be forgotten that
every depreciation of our currency results in robbing the one
hundred and eighty thousand pensioners, maimed heroes, crushed and
bereaved widows, and homeless orphans, who sit helpless at our feet.
And who would be benefited by this policy? A pretense of apology
might be offered for it, if the Government could save what the
people lose. But the system lacks the support of even that selfish
and immoral consideration. The depreciation caused by the over-issue
in the case we have supposed, compels the Government to pay just
that per cent. more on all the contracts it makes, on all the loans
it negotiates, on all the supplies it purchases; and to crown all,
it must at last redeem all its legal-tender notes in gold coin,
dollar for dollar. The advocates of repudiation have not yet been
bold enough to deny this.
“I have thus far considered the influence of a redundant paper
currency on the country when its trade and industry are in a healthy
and normal state. I now call attention to its effect in producing an
unhealthy expansion of business, in stimulating speculation and
extravagance, and in laying the sure foundation of commercial
revulsion and widespread ruin. This principle is too well understood
to require any elaboration here. The history of all modern nations
is full of examples. One of the ablest American writers on banks and
banking, Mr. Gouge, thus sums up the result of his researches:
“‘The history of all our bank pressures and panics has been the same
in 1825, in 1837, and in 1843; and the cause is given in these two
simple words—universal expansion.’
“There still remains to be considered the effect of depreciated
currency on our trade with other nations. By raising prices at home
higher than they are abroad, imports are largely increased beyond
the exports; our coin must go abroad; or, what is far worse for us,
our bonds, which have also suffered depreciation, and are purchased
by foreigners at seventy cents on the dollar. During the whole
period of high prices occasioned by the war, gold and bonds have
been steadily going abroad, notwithstanding our tariff duties, which
average nearly fifty per cent. _ad valorem_. More than five hundred
million dollars of our bonds are now held in Europe, ready to be
thrown back upon us when any war or other sufficient disturbance
shall occur. No tariff rates short of actual prohibition can prevent
this outflow of gold while our currency is thus depreciated. During
these years, also, our merchant marine steadily decreased, and our
ship-building interests were nearly ruined.
“Our tonnage engaged in foreign trade, which amounted in 1859–’60 to
more than two and a-half million tons, had fallen in 1865–’66 to
less than one and a-half millions—a decrease of more than fifty per
cent.; and prices of labor and material are still too high to enable
our shipwrights to compete with foreign builders.
“From the facts already exhibited in reference to our industrial
revolution, and from the foregoing analysis of the nature and
functions of currency, it is manifest:
“1. That the remarkable prosperity of all industrial enterprises
during the war was not caused by the abundance of currency, but by
the unparalleled demand for every product of labor.
“2. That the great depression of business, the stagnation of trade,
the ‘hard times’ which have prevailed during the past year, and
which still prevail, have not been caused by an insufficient amount
of currency, but mainly by the great falling off of the demand for
all the products of labor, compared with the increased supply since
the return from war to peace.
“I subjoin a table, carefully made up from the official records,
showing the amount of paper money in the United States at the
beginning of each year from 1834 to 1868 inclusive. The fractions of
millions are omitted:
1834 $ 95,000,000
1835 104,000,000
1836 140,000,000
1837 149,000,000
1838 116,000,000
1839 135,000,000
1840 107,000,000
1841 107,000,000
1842 84,000,000
1843 59,000,000
1844 75,000,000
1845 90,000,000
1846 105,000,000
1847 106,000,000
1848 129,000,000
1849 115,000,000
1850 131,000,000
1851 155,000,000
1852 150,000,000
1853 146,000,000
1854 205,000,000
1855 187,000,000
1856 196,000,000
1857 215,000,000
1858 135,000,000
1859 193,000,000
1860 207,000,000
1861 202,000,000
1862 218,000,000
1863 529,000,000
1864 636,000,000
1865 948,000,000
1866 919,000,000
1867 852,000,000
1868 767,000,000
“The table I have submitted shows how perfect an index the currency
is of the healthy or unhealthy condition of business, and that every
great financial crisis, during the period covered by the table, has
been preceded by a great increase, and followed by a great and
sudden decrease, in the volume of paper money. _The rise and fall of
mercury in the barometer is not more surely indicative of an
atmospheric storm, than is a sudden increase or decrease of currency
indicative of financial disaster._ Within the period covered by the
table, there were four great financial and commercial crises in this
country. They occurred in 1837, 1841, 1854, and 1857. Observe the
volume of paper currency for those years: On the first day of
January, 1837, the amount had risen to $149,000,000, an increase of
nearly fifty per cent. in three years. Before the end of that year,
the reckless expansion, speculation, and over-trading which caused
the increase, had resulted in terrible collapse; and on the first of
January, 1838, the volume was reduced to $116,000,000. Wild lands,
which speculation had raised to fifteen and twenty dollars per acre,
fell to one dollar and a-half and two dollars, accompanied by a
corresponding depression in all branches of business. Immediately
after the crisis of 1841, the bank circulation decreased twenty-five
per cent., and by the end of 1842 was reduced to $58,500,000, a
decrease of nearly fifty per cent.
“At the beginning of 1853 the amount was $146,000,000. Speculation
and expansion had swelled it to $205,000,000 by the end of that
year, and thus introduced the crash of 1854. At the beginning of
1857 the paper money of the country reached its highest point of
inflation up to that time. There were nearly $215,000,000, but at
the end of that disastrous year the volume had fallen to
$135,000,000, a decrease of nearly forty per cent. in less than
twelve months. In the great crashes preceding 1837 the same
conditions are invariably seen—great expansion, followed by a
violent collapse, not only in paper money, but in loans and
discounts; and those manifestations have always been accompanied by
a corresponding fluctuation in prices.
“In the great crash of 1819, one of the severest this country ever
suffered, there was a complete prostration of business. It is
recorded in Niles’s _Register_ for 1820 that, in that year, an Ohio
miller sold four barrels of flour to raise five dollars, the amount
of his subscription to that paper. Wheat was twenty cents per
bushel, and corn ten cents. About the same time Mr. Jefferson wrote
to Nathaniel Macon:
“‘We have now no standard of value. I am asked eighteen dollars
for a yard of broadcloth which, when we had dollars, I used to
get for eighteen shillings.’
“But there is one quality of such a currency more remarkable than
all others—its strange power to delude men. The spells and
enchantments of legendary witchcraft were hardly so wonderful. Most
delusions can not be repeated; they lose their power after a full
exposure. Not so with irredeemable paper money. From the days of
John Law its history has been a repetition of the same story, with
only this difference: No nation now resorts to its use except from
overwhelming necessity; but whenever any nation is fairly embarked,
it floats on the delusive waves, and, like the lotus-eating
companions of Ulysses, wishes to return no more.
“Into this very delusion many of our fellow-citizens and many
members of this House have fallen.
“The chief cause of this new-born zeal for paper money is the same
as that which led a member of the Continental Congress to exclaim:
“‘Do you think, gentlemen, that I will consent to load my
constituents with taxes, when we can send to the printer and get
a wagon-load of money, one quire of which will pay for the
whole?’
“It is my clear conviction that the most formidable danger with
which the country is now threatened is a large increase in the
volume of paper money.
“Shall we learn nothing from experience? Shall the warnings of the
past be unheeded?”
Here followed a brilliant historical review of the experience of the
Colonies, of the Continental Congress, and of England, with paper money.
“From these considerations it appears to me that the first step
toward a settlement of our financial and industrial affairs should
be to adopt and declare to the country a fixed and definite policy,
so that industry and enterprise may be based upon confidence; so
that men may know what to expect from the Government; and, above
all, that the course of business may be so adjusted that it shall be
governed by the laws of trade, and not by the caprice of any man or
of any political party in or out of Congress....
“On the 10th of February, I introduced a bill which, if it should
become a law, will, I believe, go far toward restoring confidence
and giving stability to business, and will lay the foundation on
which a general financial policy may be based, whenever opinions are
so harmonized as to make a general policy possible.
“As the bill is short, I will quote it entire, and call attention
for a few moments to its provisions:
“‘A BILL TO PROVIDE FOR A GRADUAL RETURN TO SPECIE PAYMENTS.
“‘_Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of
the United States of America in Congress assembled_: That on and
after the first day of December, 1868, the Secretary of the
Treasury be, and he is hereby, authorized and directed to pay
gold coin of the United States for any legal-tender notes of the
United States, which may be presented at the office of the
Assistant Treasurer, at New York, at the rate of one dollar in
gold for one dollar and thirty cents in legal-tender notes. On
and after the first day of January, 1869, the rate shall be one
dollar in gold for one dollar and twenty-nine cents in
legal-tender notes; and at the beginning of and during each
succeeding month, the amount of legal-tender notes required in
exchange for one dollar in gold shall be one cent less than the
amount required during the preceding month, until the exchange
becomes one dollar in gold for one dollar in legal-tender notes;
and on and after the first day of June, 1871, the Secretary of
the Treasury shall exchange gold for legal-tender notes, dollar
for dollar. _Provided_: That nothing in this act shall be so
construed as to authorize the retirement or cancellation of any
legal-tender notes of the United States.’
* * * * *
“I do not doubt that, in anticipation of the operation of this
measure, should it become a law, gold would be at 130, or lower, by
the 1st of December, and that very little would be asked for from
the Treasury, in exchange for currency. At the beginning of each
succeeding month the exchange between gold and greenbacks would be
reduced one cent, and specie payments would be fully resumed in
June, 1871. That the country is fully able to resume by that time
will hardly be denied.
“With the $100,000,000 of gold now in the Treasury, and the amount
received from customs, which averages nearly half a million per day,
it is not at all probable that we should need to borrow a dollar in
order to carry out the provisions of the law.
“But taking the most unfavorable aspect of the case, and supposing
that the Government should find it necessary to authorize a gold
loan, the expense would be trifling compared with the resulting
benefits to the country. The proposed measure would incidentally
bring all the national banks to the aid of the Government in the
work of resumption. The banks are required by law to redeem their
own notes in greenbacks. They now hold in their vaults, as a reserve
required by law, $162,000,000, of which sum $114,000,000 are
greenbacks. Being compelled to pay the same price for their own
notes as for greenbacks, they would gradually accumulate a specie
reserve, and would be compelled to keep abreast with the Government
in every step of the progress toward resumption. The necessity of
redeeming their own notes would keep their circulation nearer home,
and would more equally distribute the currency of the country which
now concentrates at the great money centers, and produces scarcity
in the rural districts.
“This measure would not at once restore the old national standard of
value, but it would give stability to business and confidence to
business men every-where. Every man who contracts a debt would know
what the value of a dollar would be when the debt became due. The
opportunity now afforded to Wall Street gamblers to run up and run
down the relative price of gold and greenbacks would be removed. The
element of chance, which now vitiates our whole industrial system,
would, in great part, be eliminated.
“If this measure be adopted it will incidentally settle several of
our most troublesome questions. It will end the war between the
contractionists and the inflationists—a war which, like that of
Marius and Sylla, may almost prove fatal to the interests of the
country, whichever side may prevail. The amount of paper money will
regulate itself, and may be unlimited, so long as every dollar is
convertible into specie at the will of the holder.
“The still more difficult question of paying our five-twenty bonds
would be avoided—completely flanked by this measure. The money paid
to the wounded soldier, and to the soldier’s widow, would soon be
made equal in value to the money paid to all other creditors of the
Government.
“It will be observed that the bill does not authorize the
cancellation or retirement of any United States notes. It is
believed that, for a time at least, the volume of the currency may
safely remain as it now is. When the measure has been in force for
some time, it will be seen whether the increased use of specie for
purposes of circulation will not allow a gradual reduction of the
legal-tender notes. This can be safely left to subsequent
legislation. It will facilitate the success of this plan if Congress
will pass a bill to legalize contracts hereafter made for the
payment of coin. If this be done, many business men will conduct
their affairs on a specie basis, and thus retain at home much of our
gold that now goes abroad.
ENGLISH PRECEDENT.
“I have not been ambitious to add another to the many financial
plans proposed to this Congress, much less have I sought to
introduce a new and untried scheme. On the contrary, I regard it a
strong commendation of this measure, that it is substantially the
same as that by which Great Britain resumed specie payments, after a
suspension of nearly a quarter of a century.
“The situation of England at that time was strikingly similar to our
present situation. She had just emerged from a great war in which
her resources had been taxed to the utmost. Business had been
expanded, and high prices prevailed. Paper money had been issued in
unusual volume, was virtually a legal-tender, and had depreciated to
the extent of twenty-five per cent. Every financial evil from which
we now suffer prevailed there, and was aggravated by having been
longer in operation. Plans and theories without end were proposed to
meet the many difficulties of the case. For ten years the Bank of
England and the majority in Parliament vehemently denied that paper
money had depreciated, notwithstanding the unanswerable report of
the Bullion Committee of 1810, and the undeniable fact that it took
twenty-five per cent. more of notes than of coin to buy an ounce of
gold.
“Many insisted that paper was a better standard of value than coin.
Some denounced the attempt to return to specie as unwise, others as
impossible. William Cobbett, the famous pamphleteer, announced that
he would give himself up to be broiled on a gridiron whenever the
bank should resume cash payments; and for many years kept the
picture of a gridiron at the head of his _Political Register_, to
remind his readers of his prophecy. Every phase of the question was
discussed by the best minds of the kingdom, in and out of
Parliament, for more than ten years; and in May, 1819, under the
lead of Robert Peel, a law was passed fixing the time and mode of
resumption.
“It provided that on the 1st of February, 1820, the bank should
give, in exchange for its notes, gold bullion in quantities not less
than sixty ounces, at the rate of 81s. per ounce; that, from the 1st
of October, 1820, the rates should be 79s. 6d.; from the 1st of May,
1822, 79s. 10½d.; and on the 1st of May, 1823, the bank should
redeem all its notes in coin, whatever the amount presented. The
passage of the act gave once more a fixed and certain value to
money; and business so soon adjusted itself to the measure in
anticipation, that specie payments were fully resumed on the 1st of
May, 1821, two years before the time fixed by the law. Forty-seven
years have elapsed since then, and the verdict of history has
approved the wisdom of the act, notwithstanding the clamor and
outcry which at first assailed it. So plainly does this lesson apply
to us, that in the preface to one of the best histories of England,
recently published, the author, who is an earnest friend of the
United States, says:
“‘It seems to me that no thoughtful citizen of any nation can read
the story of the years before and after Peel’s bill of 1819,
extending over the crash of 1825–’26, without the strongest desire
that such risks and calamities may be avoided in his own country at
any sacrifice. There are several countries under the doom of
retribution for the license of an inconvertible paper currency, and
of these the United States are unhappily one. This passage of
English history may possibly help to check the levity with which the
inevitable ‘crash’ is spoken of by some, who little dream what the
horrors and griefs of such a convulsion are. It may do more if it
should show any considerable number of observers that the affairs of
the economic world are as truly and certainly under the control of
natural laws as the world of matter without and that of mind
within.’”
* * * * *
This speech is remarkable. It is wonderful. Had that resumption bill
become a law, it is possible and probable that the panic of 1873, and
the long years of distress might have been, if not avoided, at least
greatly shortened and alleviated. The argument never was and never could
be improved upon by any one. In the light of history that speech was a
prophecy. Congress procrastinated a return to specie payment. Finally
the crash came, as he had foretold. Garfield once said, “After the
battle of arms comes the battle of history.” In writing a historical
estimate of the leaders of the epoch which closed with the consummation
of specie payments, the critical historian would rightly claim that this
speech of General Garfield, in the spring of 1868, _five and a-half
years before the panic_, must take rank as a triumph of statesmanship
above every argument, no matter how able or eloquent, _made after the
panic_. In this speech Garfield showed his conservatism again in
favoring the continuation of greenbacks in circulation, the very thing
which was done over the bitter opposition of resumptionists seven years
before.
In the earlier part of the speech he showed the necessity of an
adjustable volume of currency. With specie this was easy. With paper
currency the volume could be made adjustable through banks. They were
the institutions to ease us through the straits to resumption. Their
mission was more fully elaborated in a speech of June 7, 1870. The West
and South having an insufficient number of banks, and, consequently,
lacking the currency of checks, drafts, etc., were suffering. To meet
this, he presented a bill redistributing the banks. His views are what
most concern us.
CURRENCY AND THE BANKS.
“I wish first to state a few general propositions touching the
subjects of trade and its instruments. A few simple principles form
the foundation on which rests the whole superstructure of money,
currency, and trade. They may be thus briefly stated:
“_First._ Money, which is a universal measure of value and a medium
of exchange, must not be confounded with credit currency in any of
its forms. Nothing is really money which does not of itself possess
the full amount of the value which it professes on its face to
possess. Length can only be measured by a standard which in itself
possesses length. Weight can only be measured by a standard, defined
and recognized, which in itself possesses weight. So, also, value
can only be measured by that which in itself possesses a definite
and known value. The precious metals, coined and stamped, form the
money of the world, because when thrown into the melting-pot and
cast into bars they will sell in the market as metal for the same
amount that they will pass for in the market as coined money. The
coining and stamping are but a certification by the government of
the quantity and fineness of the metal stamped. The coining
certifies to the value, but neither creates it nor adds to it.
“_Second._ Paper currency, when convertible at the will of the
holder into coin, though not in itself money, is a title to the
amount of money promised on its face; and so long as there is
perfect confidence that it is a good title for its whole amount, it
can be used as money in the payment of debts. Being lighter and more
easily carried, it is for many purposes more convenient than money,
and has become an indispensable substitute for money throughout all
civilized countries. One quality which it must possess, and without
which it loses its title to be called money, is that the promise
written on its face must be good and be kept good. The declaration
on its face must be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth. If the promise has no value, the note itself is worthless. If
the promise affords any opportunity for doubt, uncertainty, or
delay, the note represents a vague uncertainty, and is measured only
by remaining faith in the final redemption of the promise.
“_Third._ Certificates of credit under whatever form, are among the
most efficient instruments of trade. The most common form of these
certificates is that of a check or draft. The bank is the
institution through which the check becomes so powerful an
instrument of exchange. The check is comparatively a modern
invention, whose functions and importance are not yet fully
recognized. It may represent a deposit of coin or of paper currency,
convertible or inconvertible; or may, as is more frequently the
case, represent merely a credit, secured by property in some form,
but not by money. The check is not money; yet, for the time being,
it performs all the functions of money in the payment of debts. No
greater mistake can be made than to suppose that the effective value
of currency is not directly increased by the whole amount of checks
in circulation.
“I would not for a moment lose sight of the great first necessity of
all exchanges, that they be measured by real money, the recognized
money of the world; nor of that other necessity next in importance,
that bank notes or treasury notes should represent real money;
should be of uniform value throughout the country, and should be
sufficient in amount to effect all those exchanges in which paper
money is actually used. I would keep constantly in view both these
important factors. But that is a superficial and incomplete plan of
legislation which does not include, in its provisions for the safe
and prompt transaction of business, those facilities which modern
civilization has devised, and which have so largely superseded the
use of both coin and paper money.
“The bank has become the indispensable agent and instrument of trade
throughout the civilized world, and not less in specie paying
countries than in countries cursed by an inconvertible paper
currency. Besides its function of issuing circulating notes, it
serves as a clearing-house for the transactions of its customers. It
brings the buyer and seller together, and enables them to complete
their exchanges. It brings debtors and creditors together, and
enables them to adjust their accounts. It collects the thousand
little hoards of unemployed money, and through loans and discounts
converts them into active capital. It is a reservoir which collects
in amounts available for use, the rain-drops which would otherwise
be lost by dispersion.
“I find there are still those who deny the doctrine that bank
deposits form an effective addition to the circulation. But let us
see. A bank is established at a point thirty or forty miles distant
from any other bank. Every man within that circle has been
accustomed is keep in his pocket or safe a considerable sum of money
during the year. That average amount is virtually withdrawn from
circulation, and for the time being is canceled, is dead. After a
new bank is established, a large portion of that average amount is
deposited with the bank, and a smaller amount is carried in their
safes and pockets. These accumulated deposits placed in the bank, at
once constitute a fund which can be loaned to those who need credit.
At least four-fifths of the average amount of deposits can be loaned
out, thus converting dead capital into active circulation.
“But the word deposits covers far more than the sums of actual money
placed in the bank by depositors. McLeod, in his great work on
banking, says: ‘Credits standing in bankers’ books, from whatever
source, are called deposits. Hence a deposit in banking language
always means a credit in a banker’s books in exchange for money or
securities for money,’—Vol. ii, p. 267.
“Much the largest proportion of all bank deposits are of this
class—mere credits on the books of the bank. Outside the bank, these
deposits are represented by checks and drafts. Inside the bank, they
effect settlements, and make thousands of payments by mere transfer
from one man’s account to that of another. This checking and
counter-checking and transferring of credit, amounts to a sum vastly
greater than all the deposits. No stronger illustration of the
practical use of deposits can be found than in the curious fact,
that all the heavy payments made by the merchants and dealers in the
city of Amsterdam for half a century, were made through a supposed
deposit which had entirely disappeared some fifty years before its
removal was detected. Who does not know that the six hundred
millions of dollars of deposits reported every quarter as a part of
the liabilities of the national banks, are mainly credits which the
banks have given to business men?
“No currency can meet the wants of this country unless it is founded
directly upon the demands of business, and not upon the caprice, the
ignorance, the political selfishness, of any party in power.
“What regulates now the loans and discounts and credits of our
National banks? The business of the country. The amount increases or
decreases, or remains stationary, as business is fluctuating or
steady. This is a natural form of exchange, based upon the business
of the country and regarded by its changes. And when that happy day
arrives, when the whole volume of our currency is redeemable in gold
at the will of the holder, and recognized by all nations as equal to
money, then the whole business of banking, the whole volume of
currency, the whole amount of credits, whether in the form of
checks, drafts, or bills, will be regulated by the same general
law—the business of the country.”
At last, Congress came up to the position taken by Garfield in 1868. In
1875, the Resumption Act was passed, providing that, after January 1,
1879, the United States Treasury would offer one dollar in gold for
every dollar in greenbacks presented for redemption. That this law was
ten years too late can not be doubted. The delay prolonged the agony.
But it was all that popular opinion would allow. In the interim between
1875 and 1879, every effort was made by the paper-money men to repeal
the act. Of General Garfield’s speeches in its defense, we select that
of November 16, 1877, as the type. The reader shall see whether he had
changed his views, whether the panic and hard times had disconcerted his
calculations? Let James A. Garfield speak for himself:
THE REPEAL OF THE RESUMPTION ACT.
“We are engaged in a debate which has lasted in the Anglo-Saxon
world for more than two centuries, and hardly any phase of it to
which we have listened in the course of the last week is new. Hardly
a proposition has been heard on either side which was not made one
hundred and eighty years ago in England, and almost a hundred years
ago in the United States. So singularly does history repeat itself.
“That man makes a vital mistake who judges of truth in relation to
financial affairs from the changing phases of public opinion. He
might as well stand on the shores of the Bay of Fundy, and, from the
ebb and flow of a single tide, attempt to determine the general
level of the sea, as to stand on this floor and from the current of
public opinion in any one debate, judge of the general level of the
public mind. It is only when long spaces along the shore of the sea
are taken into account, that the grand level is found, from which
all heights and depths are measured. And it is only when long spaces
of time are considered that we find at last the level of public
opinion which we call the general judgment of mankind. From the
turbulent ebb and flow of the public opinion of to-day I appeal to
that settled judgment of mankind on the subject-matter of this
debate.
“In the short time which is allotted to me I invite the attention of
gentlemen, who do me the honor to listen, to a very remarkable fact.
I suppose it will be admitted on all hands, that 1860 was a year of
unusual business prosperity in the United States. It was at a time
when the bounties of Providence were scattered with a liberal hand
over the face of our Republic. It was a time when all classes of our
community were well and profitably employed. It was a time of peace;
the apprehension of our great civil war had not yet seized the minds
of our people. Great crops North and South, great general prosperity
marked the era.
“If one thing was settled above all other questions of financial
policy in the American mind at that time, it was this, that the only
sound, safe, trustworthy standard of value is coin of a standard
weight and fineness, or a paper currency convertible into coin at
the will of the holder. That was and had been for several
generations the almost unanimous opinion of the American people. It
is true there was here and there a theorist dreaming of the
philosopher’s stone, dreaming of a time when paper money, which he
worshiped as a kind of fetish, would be crowned as a god; but those
dreamers were so few in number that they made no ripple on the
current of public thought, and their theories formed no part of
public opinion, and the opinion of 1860–’61 was the aggregated
result of the opinions of all the foremost Americans who have left
their record upon this subject.
“I make this statement without fear of contradiction, because I have
carefully examined the list of illustrious names and the records
they have left behind them. No man ever sat in the chair of
Washington as President of the United States who has left on record
any word that favors inconvertible paper money as a safe standard of
value. Every President who has left a record on the subject has
spoken without qualification in favor of the doctrine I have
announced. No man ever sat in the chair of the Secretary of the
Treasury of the United States who, if he has spoken at all on the
subject, has not left on record an opinion equally strong, from
Hamilton down to the days of the distinguished father of my
colleague [Mr. Ewing], and to the present moment.
“The general judgment of all men who deserve to be called the
leaders of American thought ought to be considered worth something
in an American House of Representatives on the discussion of a great
topic like this. What happened to cause a departure from this
general level of public opinion? Every man knows the history. War,
the imperious necessities of war, led the men of 1861–’62 to depart
from the doctrine of the fathers; but they did not depart from it as
a matter of choice, but compelled by overmastering necessity. Every
man in the Senate and House of 1862 who voted for the greenback law,
announced that he did it with the greatest possible reluctance and
with the gravest apprehension for the result. Every man who spoke on
the subject, from Thaddeus Stevens to the humblest member in this
House, and from Fessenden to the humblest Senator, warned his
country against the danger that might follow, and pledged his honor
that at the earliest possible moment the country should be brought
back to the old, safe-established doctrine of the fathers.
“When they made the law creating the greenbacks they incorporated
into its essential provisions the most solemn pledge men could
devise, that they would come back to the doctrines of the fathers.
The very law that created the greenback provided for its redemption
and retirement; and every time the necessities of war required an
additional issue, new guarantees and new limitations were put upon
the new issues to insure their ultimate redemption. They were issued
upon the fundamental condition that the number should be so limited
forever that under the law of contracts the courts might enforce
their sanctions. The men of 1862 knew the dangers from sad
experience in our history; and, like Ulysses, lashed themselves to
the mast of public credit when they embarked upon the stormy and
boisterous sea of inflated paper money, that they might not be
beguiled by the siren song which would be sung to them when they
were afloat on the wild waves.
“But the times have changed; new men are on deck; men who have
forgotten the old pledges; and now only twelve years have passed
(for as late as 1865 this House, with but six dissenting votes,
resolved again to stand by the old ways and bring the country back
to sound money)—only twelve years have passed, and what do we find?
We find a group of theorists and doctrinaires who look upon the
wisdom of the fathers as foolishness. We find some who advocate what
they call “absolute money;” who declare that a piece of paper
stamped a “dollar” is a dollar; that gold and silver are a part of
the barbarism of the past, which ought to be forever abandoned. We
hear them declaring that resumption is a delusion and a snare. We
here them declaring that the eras of prosperity are the eras of
paper money; and they point us to all times of inflation as a period
of blessing to the people, prosperity to business; and they ask us
no more to vex their ears with any allusion to the old standard, the
money of the Constitution. Let the wild crop of financial literature
that has sprung into life within the last twelve years witness how
widely and how far we have drifted. We have lost our old moorings,
have thrown overboard our old compass; we sail by alien stars,
looking not for the haven, but are afloat on an unknown sea....
“No theory of currency that existed in 1860 can justify the volume
now outstanding. Either our laws of trade, our laws of value, our
laws of exchange, have been utterly reversed or the currency of
to-day is in excess of the legitimate wants of trade. But I admit
freely that no Congress is wise enough to determine how much
currency the country needs. There never was a body of men wise
enough to do that. The volume of currency needed, depends upon laws
that are higher than Congress and higher than governments. One thing
only legislation can do. It can determine the quality of the money
of the country. The laws of trade alone can determine its quantity.
“In connection with this view we are met by the distinguished
gentleman from Pennsylvania [Mr. Kelley] with two historical
references on which he greatly relies in opposing resumption. The
first is his reference to France. Follow France, says the honorable
gentleman from Pennsylvania, follow France, and see how she poured
out her volumes of paper money, and by it survived a great crisis
and maintained her business prosperity. Oh, that the gentleman and
those who vote with him would follow France! I gladly follow up his
allusion to France. As a proof that we have not enough money, he
notices the fact that France has always used more money than either
the United States or England. I admit it. But does the gentleman not
know that the traditions and habits of France are as unlike those of
England and the United States as those of any two nations of the
world can be in regard to the use of money? I say to the gentleman
that in France, banking, as an instrument of trade, is almost
unknown. There are no banks in France except the Bank of France
itself. The government has been trying for twenty years to establish
branches in all the eighty-nine departments, and thus far only
fifty-six branches have been organized. Our national, State, and
private banks number nearly ten thousand. The habits of the French
people are not adapted to the use of banks as instruments of
exchange. All the deposits in all the saving-banks of France are not
equal to the deposits in the saving-banks of New York City alone. It
is the frequent complaint of Americans who make purchases in Paris
that the merchants will not accept drafts, even on the Bank of
France.
“Victor Bonnet, a recent French writer, says: ‘The use of deposits,
bank accounts, and checks, is still in its infancy in this country.
They are very little used even in great cities, while in the rest of
France they are completely unknown. It is, however, to be hoped that
there will be more employed hereafter, and that here, as in England
and the United States, payments will be more generally made through
the medium of bankers and by transfers in account-current. If this
should be the case, we shall economize both in the use of specie and
of bank-notes; for it is to be observed that the use of bank-notes
does not reach its fullest development except in countries where the
keeping of bank accounts is universal, as is evident by comparing
France in this respect with England.’
“M. Pinard, manager of the Comptoir d’Escompte, testified before the
commission of inquiry, that the greatest efforts had been made by
that institution to induce French merchants and shopkeepers to adopt
English habits in respect to the use of checks and the keeping of
bank accounts, but in vain; their prejudices were invincible. ‘It
was no use reasoning with them; they would not do it, because they
would not.’
“So long as the business of their country is thus done hand to hand
by the use of cash, they need a much greater volume of money in
proportion to their business than England or the United States.
“How is it in England? Statistics, which no man will gainsay, will
show that ninety-five per cent. of all the great mercantile
transactions of England is done by drafts, checks, and commercial
bills and only five per cent. by the actual use of cash. The great
business of commerce and trade is done by drafts and bills. Money is
now only the small change of commerce. And how is it in this
country? We have adopted the habits of England, and not of France,
in this regard. In 1871, when I was Chairman of the Committee on
Banking and Currency, I asked the Comptroller of the Currency to
issue an order naming fifty-two banks which were to make an analysis
of their receipts. I selected three groups: The first group were the
city banks; not, however, the clearing-house banks, but the great
city banks not in the clearing-house association. The second group
consisted of banks in cities of the size of Toledo and Dayton, in
the State of Ohio. In the third group, if I may coin a word, I
selected the ‘countriest’ banks—the smallest that could be found at
points away from railroads and telegraphs.
“The order was that all those banks should analyze all their
receipts for six consecutive days, putting into one list all that
can be called cash, either in coin, greenbacks, bank-notes, or
coupons; and into the other list all drafts, checks, or commercial
bills. What was the result? During those six days $157,000,000 were
received over the counters of those fifty-two banks; and, of that
amount, $19,370,000 was in cash—twelve per cent. only in cash; and
eighty-eight per cent. of that vast amount, representing every grade
of business, was in checks, drafts, and commercial bills. Does a
country that transacts its business in that way need as much
currency afloat among the people as a country like France, without
banks, without savings institutions, and whose people keep their
money in hoards.
“I remember in reading one of the novels of Dumas, when an officer
of the French army sent home his agent to run his farm, he loaded
him down with silver enough to conduct the business for a year;
there was no thought of giving him credit in a bank; but of locking
in the till, at the beginning of the year, enough coin to do the
business of the year. So much for the difference between the habits
of France and those of Anglo-Saxon countries. Let us now consider
the conduct of France during and since the German war. In July,
1870, the year before the war began, the Bank of France had
outstanding $251,000,000 of paper circulation, and held in its
vaults $229,000,000 of coin. When the war broke out, they were
compelled immediately to issue more paper, and to make it a legal
tender. They took pattern by us in their necessity, and issued paper
until, on the 19th of November, 1873, four years ago next Monday,
they had $602,000,000 of paper issued by the Bank of France, while
the coin in the bank was reduced to $146,000,000.
“But the moment their great war was over, they did what I
recommended to the gentleman from Pennsylvania [Mr. Kelley], they
commenced to reduce their paper circulation, and in one year reduced
it almost $100,000,000, and increased the coin circulation
$120,000,000. In the year 1876 they had pushed into circulation
$200,000,000 of coin, and retired nearly all their small notes. They
are at this moment within fifty days of resumption of specie
payments. Under their law, fifty days from to-day, France will again
come into the illustrious line of nations who believe in a sound
currency. I commend to the eloquent gentleman from Pennsylvania [Mr.
Kelley] the example of France....
“The overwhelming and fixed opinion of England is that the
cash-resumption act of 1819 was a blessing and not a curse, and that
the evils which England suffered from 1821 to 1826 did not arise
from the resumption of cash payments. I appeal to every great writer
of acknowledged character in England for the truth of this position.
I ask the gentleman to read the eighth chapter of the second book of
Miss Martineau’s _History of the Peace_, where the case is admirably
stated. I appeal also to the opinion of Parliament itself,
especially to the House of Commons, which is as sensitive an index
of public opinion as England knows. When they were within about
eighteen months of resumption of specie payment, a motion was made,
like the motion of my colleague from Ohio [Mr. Ewing], that the
resumption-act bill be repealed or modified, because it was
producing distress. And a number of gentlemen in the House of
Commons made speeches of the same spirit as those which we have
heard here within the past week. The distress among the people, the
crippling of business, the alarm of the mercantile classes, all were
paraded in the House of Commons, and were answered by those knights
of finance whose names have become illustrious in English history.
And at the end of a long debate on that proposition, on the 11th of
April, 1821, a vote was taken, and the proposition was rejected by a
vote of 141 to 27. In other words, by a vote of 141 to 27 the House
of Commons resolved that their act for the resumption of specie
payments was not causing distress, and ought not to be repealed, and
ought not to be modified, except to make it more effective. As a
matter of fact, it was so modified as to allow resumption to take
place much sooner than was provided in the act of 1819....
“I now proceed to notice the second point that has been made in
favor of this bill. It is assumed that specie payment will injure
the debtor class of this country, and thereby oppress the poor; in
other words, that the enforcement of the resumption law will oppress
the poor and increase the riches of the rich. It is assumed that the
laboring-men are in debt, and that the rich men constitute the
creditor class. I deny this proposition _in toto_. I affirm that the
vast majority of the creditors of this country are the poor people;
that the vast majority of the debtors of this country are the
well-to-do people—in fact, people who are moderately rich.
“As a matter of fact, the poor man, the laboring-man, can not get
heavily in debt. He has not the security to offer. Men lend their
money on security, and in the very nature of the case poor men can
borrow but little. What then do poor men do with their small
earnings? When a man has earned, out of his hard work, a hundred
dollars more than he needs for current expenses, he reasons thus: ‘I
can not go into business with a hundred dollars; I can not embark in
trade; but, as I work, I want my money to work.’ And so he puts his
small gains where they will earn something. He lends his money to a
wealthier neighbor, or puts it in the savings-bank. There were, in
the United States, on the first of November, 1876, forty-four
hundred and seventy-five savings-banks and private banks of deposit,
and their deposits amounted to $1,377,000,000, almost three-fourths
of the amount of our national debt. Over two and a half millions of
the citizens of the United States were depositors. In some States
the deposits did not average more than $250 each. The great mass of
the depositors are men and women of small means—laborers, widows,
and orphans. They are the lenders of this enormous aggregate. The
savings-banks, as their agents, lend it to whom? Not to the laboring
poor, but to the business men who wish to enlarge their business
beyond their capital. Speculators sometimes borrow it. But in the
main, well-to-do business men borrow these hoardings. Thus the poor
lend to the rich....
“There is another way in which poor men dispose of their money. A
man says: ‘I can keep my wife and babies from starving while I live
and have my health, but if I die they may be compelled to go over
the hills to the poor-house’; and, agonized by that thought, he
saves out of his hard earnings enough to take out and keep alive a
small life-insurance policy, so that, if he dies, there may be
something left, provided the insurance company to which he intrusts
his money is honest enough to keep its pledges. And how many men do
you think have done that in the United States? I do not know the
number for the whole country, but I do know this, that from a late
report to the insurance commissioner of the State of New York, it
appears that the companies doing business in that State had 774,625
policies in force, and the face value of these policies was
$1,922,000,000. I find, by looking over the returns, that in my
State there are 55,000 policies outstanding; in Pennsylvania,
74,000; in Maine, 17,000; in Maryland, 25,000; and, in the State of
New York, 160,090. There are, of course, some rich men insured in
these companies, but the majority are poor people, for the policies
do not average more than $2,200 each. What is done with the assets
of these companies, which amount to $445,000,000? They are loaned
out. Here again the creditor class is the poor, and the insurance
companies are the agents of the poor to lend their money for them.
It would be dishonorable for Congress to legislate either for the
debtor class or for the creditor class alone. We ought to legislate
for the whole country. But when gentlemen attempt to manufacture
sentiment against the resumption act, by saying it will help the
rich and hurt the poor, they are overwhelmingly answered by the
facts.
“Suppose you undo the work that Congress has attempted—to resume
specie payment—what will result? You will depreciate the value of
the greenback. Suppose it falls ten cents on the dollar, you will
have destroyed ten per cent. of the value of every deposit in the
savings-banks, ten per cent. of every life-insurance policy and
fire-insurance policy, of every pension to the soldier, and of every
day’s wages of every laborer in the nation.
“In the census of 1870, it was estimated that on any given day there
were $120,000,000 due to laborers for their unpaid wages. That is a
small estimate. Let the greenback dollar come down ten per cent. and
you take $12,000,000 from the men who have already earned it. In the
name of every interest connected with the poor man I denounce this
effort to prevent resumption. Daniel Webster never uttered a greater
truth in finance than when he said that of all contrivances to cheat
the laboring-classes of mankind, none was so effective as that which
deluded them with an irredeemable paper money. The rich can take
care of themselves, but the dead-weight of all the fluctuations and
losses falls ultimately on the poor man who has only his day’s work
to sell.
“I admit that in the passage from peace to war there was a great
loss to one class of the community, to the creditors; and in the
return to the basis of peace some loss to debtors was inevitable.
This injustice was unavoidable. The loss and gain did not fall upon
the same. The evil could not be balanced nor adjusted. The debtors
of 1862–’65 are not the debtors of 1877. The most competent judges
declare that the average life of the private debts in the United
States is not more than two years. Of course, obligations may be
renewed, but the average length of private debts in this country is
not more than two years. Now, we have already gone two years on the
road to resumption, and the country has been adjusting itself to the
new condition of things. The people have expected resumption, and
have already discounted most of the hardships and sufferings
incident to the change. The agony is almost over; and if we now
embark again upon the open sea we lose all that has been gained, and
plunge the country into the necessity of venturing once more over
the same boisterous ocean, with all its perils and uncertainties. I
speak the deepest convictions of my mind and heart when I say that,
should this resumption act be repealed and no effectual substitute
be put in its place, the day is not far distant when all of us,
looking back on this time from the depths of the evils which will
result, will regret, with all our power to regret, the day when we
again let loose the dangers of inflation upon the country.
* * * * *
“Although I do not believe in keeping greenbacks as a permanent
currency in the United States, although I do not myself believe in
the Government becoming a permanent banker, yet I am willing for one
that, in order to prevent the shock to business which gentlemen
fear, the $300,000,000 of greenbacks shall be allowed to remain in
circulation as long as the wants of trade show manifestly that they
are needed. Now, is that a great contraction? Is it contraction at
all?
“Why, gentlemen, when you have brought your greenback up two and
one-half cents higher in value, you will have added to your volume
of money $200,000,000 of gold coin which can not circulate until
greenbacks are brought to par.
“Let those who are afraid of contraction consider that and answer
it.
“Summing it all up in a word: the struggle now pending in the House
is on the one hand to make the greenback better, and on the other to
make it worse. The resumption act is making it better every day.
Repeal that act and you make it infinitely worse. In the name of
every man who wants his own when he has earned it, I demand that we
do not make the wages of the poor man to shrivel in his hands after
he has earned it; but that his money shall be made better and
better, until the plow-holder’s money shall be as good as the
bond-holder’s money; until our standard is one, and there is no
longer one money for the rich and another for the poor.”
With these bits of marble chipped from the temple of his arguments on
the currency question, we must content ourselves. Upon this question
Garfield was undoubtedly ahead of his generation. The resumption bill
which he introduced in 1868 was better than the one adopted in 1875. He
presented the fundamental principles as he understood them in 1868. From
them he never changed. All subsequent efforts were but their
elaboration, and, at this writing, history itself is their fulfillment
and demonstration.
It is easy to see that his style of speaking changed somewhat. He became
more terse and epigrammatic. He condensed the philosophical parts of his
speeches, and enlarged the practical parts. He became more direct in
address, more sparing of ornament, and simpler in language. But this was
all. He was never known to be on but one side of a question. He took his
position only after the most laborious investigations and careful
thought. Once taken, nothing could drive him from it. In his answers to
the riddles propounded by the Sphinx of American currency and finance,
James A. Garfield is entitled to a place in the gallery of fame, beside
the greatest financiers known to our national history. In the future, no
authority will be, or can be, higher than Garfield.
Our next inquiry relates to Garfield’s record upon questions affecting
THE REVENUE AND EXPENDITURES OF THE UNITED STATES. Owing to his long
service on the Committees of Ways and Means and on Appropriations, these
twin topics of surpassing importance continually lay like couchant lions
right in his political pathway.
Of the question of revenue, the tariff is the most vital branch. On the
subjects of free-trade and protection, Garfield had made up his mind
while at Williams College. Professor Perry, the instructor in political
economy, was an unqualified free-trader. After his usual careful
investigation, Garfield took the opposite view. He formulated the
following proposition: “As an abstract theory, the doctrine of
Free-Trade seems to be universally true, but as a question of
practicability, under a government like ours, the protective system
seems to be indispensable.”
Into the defense of that proposition he threw all his energies. In his
speeches on the tariff we will find but one continual elaboration of
this view. The speeches are moderate and conservative, avoiding either
extreme. His object was to legislate for the whole country and not for
any locality or class alone. On April 1, 1870, he delivered a speech on
the tariff, which is of the first rank among his earlier efforts.
It presents an interesting history of England’s tariff policy toward the
colonies, a brilliant discussion of the trend of prices since the war,
and closes with a review of the eventful history of tariff legislation
in this country, not omitting the South Carolina nullification. The high
tariffs required by the high prices prevailing during the war, he
thought, should be gradually reduced. Every one knows that the advantage
of a high tariff on imports is the protection it gives to American
industry by keeping up the prices here, and preventing competition with
the cheap labor of Europe. But it is equally true that, while keeping
prices up is good for the seller, and indirectly for the laborer whom he
employs, it is bad for the buyer. Free-trade makes low prices. Avoiding
alike the Scylla on the one hand and the Charybdis on the other,
Garfield chose a medium. He closed his speech of April 1, 1870, by an
appeal against either extreme:
“I stand now where I have always stood since I have been a member of
this House. I take the liberty of quoting, from the _Congressional
Globe_ of 1866, the following remarks which I then made on the
subject of the tariff:
“‘We have seen that one extreme school of economists would place the
price of all manufactured articles in the hands of foreign producers
by rendering it impossible for our manufacturers to compete with
them; while the other extreme school, by making it impossible for
the foreigner to sell his competing wares in our market, would give
the people no immediate check upon the prices which our
manufacturers might fix for their products. I disagree with both
these extremes. I hold that a properly adjusted competition between
home and foreign products is the best gauge by which to regulate
international trade. Duties should be so high that our manufacturers
can fairly compete with the foreign product, but not so high as to
enable them to drive out the foreign article, enjoy a monopoly of
the trade, and regulate the price as they please. This is my
doctrine of protection. If Congress pursue this line of policy
steadily, we shall, year by year, approach more nearly to the basis
of free-trade, because we shall be more nearly able to compete with
other nations on equal terms. _I am for that protection which leads
to ultimate free-trade. I am for that free-trade which can only be
achieved through a reasonable protection._’”
As the representative of General Garfield’s tariff speeches in these
pages, we select the one of February 4, 1878. Of this speech a gentleman
of high abilities and information, says: “Having read and re-read it
carefully, and having read all the great speeches made in Congress for
forty years before the war on this difficult question, it is my
deliberate conviction that the sound American doctrine of protection has
never been stated with equal clearness, breadth, and practicality.”
THE TARIFF.
“A few days ago, the distinguished gentleman from Virginia, who now
occupies the chair [Mr. Tucker], made a speech of rare ability and
power, in which he placed at the front of his line of discussion a
question that was never raised in American legislation until our
present form of Government was forty years old; the question of the
constitutionality of a tariff for the encouragement and protection
of manufacturers. The first page of the printed speech of the
gentleman, as it appears in the _Congressional Record_, is devoted
to an elaborate and very able discussion of that question.
“He insists that the two powers conferred upon Congress, to levy
duties and to regulate commerce, are entirely distinct from each
other; that the one can not by any fair construction be applied to
the other; that the methods of the one are not the methods of the
other, and that the capital mistake which he conceives has been made
in the legislation of the country for many years is that the power
to tax has been applied to the regulation of commerce, and through
that to the protection of manufactures. He holds that if we were to
adopt a proper construction of the Constitution we should find that
the regulation of commerce does not permit the protection of
manufactures, nor can the power to tax be applied, directly or
indirectly, to that object.
“I will not enter into any elaborate discussion of that question,
but I can not refrain from expressing my admiration of the courage
of the gentleman from Virginia, who in that part of his speech
brought himself into point-blank range of the terrible artillery of
James Madison, one of the fathers of the Constitution, and
Virginia’s great expounder of its provisions.
“In a letter addressed to Joseph C. Cabell, on the 18th of March,
1827, will be found one of those discussions in which Mr. Madison
gives categorically thirteen reasons against the very constitutional
theory advanced now by the gentleman from Virginia [Mr. Tucker]. It
would almost seem that the distinguished author of the book which I
hold in my hand had prophetically in his mind the very speech
delivered in this House by the later Virginian, for he refutes its
arguments, point by point, thoroughly and completely.
“I say that more than a hundred pages of Madison’s works are devoted
to discussing and exploding what was, in 1828, this new notion of
constitutional construction. In one of these papers he calls to mind
the fact that sixteen of the men who framed the Constitution sat in
the first Congress and helped to frame a tariff expressly for the
protection of domestic industries; and it is fair to presume that
these men understood the meaning of the Constitution.
“I will close this phase of the discussion by calling the attention
of the committee to the language of the Constitution itself:
“‘The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes, duties,
imposts, and excises, to pay the debts and provide for the common
defense and general welfare of the United States.’
“Language could hardly be plainer to declare the great general
objects to which the taxing power is to be applied.
“It should be borne in mind that revenue is the life-blood of a
government, circulating through every part of its organization and
giving force and vitality to every function. The power to tax is
therefore the great motive power, and its regulation impels,
retards, restrains, or limits all the functions of the Government.
“What are these functions? The Constitution authorizes Congress to
regulate and control this great motive power, the power to levy and
collect duties; and the objects for which duties are to be levied
and collected are summarized in three great groups: First, ‘to pay
debts.’ By this, the arm of the Government sweeps over all its past
history and protects its honor by discharging all obligations that
have come down from former years. Second, is ‘to provide for the
common defense.’ By this, the mailed arm of the Government sweeps
the great circle of the Union to defend it against foes from without
and insurrection within. And, third, is to ‘promote the general
welfare.’ These are the three great objects to which the
Constitution applies the power of taxation. They are all great,
beneficent, national objects, and can not be argued out of
existence.
“The fifteen specifications following in the eighth section of the
same article—such as the power to raise armies, to maintain a navy,
to establish courts, to coin money, to regulate commerce with
foreign nations and among the several States, to promote science and
the useful arts by granting patents and copyrights—are all
specifications and limitations of the methods by which this great
central power of taxation is to be applied to the common defense and
the general welfare. And it is left to the discretion of Congress to
determine how these objects shall be secured by the use of the
powers thus conferred upon it.
“The men who created this Constitution also set it in operation, and
developed their own idea of its character. That idea was unlike any
other that then prevailed upon the earth. They made the general
welfare of the people the great source and foundation of the common
defense. In all the nations of the Old World the public defense was
provided for by great standing armies, navies, and fortified posts,
so that the nation might every moment be fully armed against danger
from without or turbulence within. Our fathers said: ‘Though we will
use the taxing power to maintain a small army and navy sufficient to
keep alive the knowledge of war, yet the main reliance for our
defense shall be the intelligence, culture, and skill of our people;
a development of our own intellectual and material resources, which
will enable us to do every thing that may be necessary to equip,
clothe, and feed ourselves in time of war, and make ourselves
intelligent, happy, and prosperous in peace.’
“To lay the foundation for the realization of these objects was a
leading motive which led to the formation of the Constitution, and
was the earliest and greatest object of solicitude in the First
Congress.
“Two days after the votes for president were counted, and long
before Washington was inaugurated, James Madison rose in the first
House of Representatives, and for the first time moved to go into
the Committee of the Whole on the state of the Union, for the
express purpose of carrying out the theory of the Constitution to
provide for the common defense and the general welfare, both by
regulating commerce and protecting American manufactures. Thus, on
the 8th of April, 1789, he opened a debate which lasted several
weeks, in which was substantially developed every idea that has
since appeared save one, the notion that it was unconstitutional to
protect American industry. All other phases of the subject were
fully and thoroughly handled in that great debate.
“Our fathers had been disciplined in the severe school of experience
during the long period of colonial dependence. The heavy hand of
British repression was laid upon all their attempts to become a
self-supporting people. The navigation laws and commercial
regulations of the mother country were based upon the theory that
the colonies were founded for the sole purpose of raising up
customers for her trade. They were allowed to purchase in British
markets alone any manufactured article which England had to sell. In
short, they were compelled to trade with England on her own terms;
and whether buying or selling, the product must be carried in
British bottoms at the carrier’s own price. In addition to this, a
revenue tax of 5 per cent. was imposed on all colonial exports and
imports.
“The colonists were doomed to the servitude of furnishing, by the
simplest forms of labor, raw materials for the mother country, who
arrogated to herself the sole right to supply her colonies with the
finished product. To our fathers, independence was emancipation from
this servitude. They knew that civilization advanced from the
hunting to the pastoral state, from the pastoral to the
agricultural, which has such charms for the distinguished gentleman
from Virginia. But they also knew that no merely agricultural people
had ever been able to rise to a high civilization and to
self-supporting independence. They determined, therefore, to make
their emancipation complete by adding to agriculture the mechanic
arts, which in their turn would carry agriculture and all other
industries to a still higher development, and place our people in
the front rank of civilized and self-supporting nations. This idea
inspired the legislation of all the earlier Congresses. It found
expression in the first tariff act of 1789; in the higher rates of
the act of 1790; and in the still larger schedule and increased
rates of the acts of 1797 and 1800.
“In 1806 the non-importation act forbade the importation of British
manufactures of silk, cloth, nails, spikes, brass, tin, and many
other articles; and the eight years of embargo witnessed a great
growth in American manufactures. When the non-importation act was
repealed in 1814, John C. Calhoun assured the country that Congress
would not fail to provide other adequate means for promoting the
development of our industries; and, under his lead, the protective
tariff of 1816 was enacted.
“I have given this brief historical sketch for the purpose of
exhibiting the ideas out of which the tariff legislation of this
country has sprung. It has received the support of the most renowned
names in our early history; and, though the principle of protection
has sometimes been carried to an unreasonable extreme, thus bringing
reproach upon the system, it has nevertheless borne many of the
fruits which were anticipated by those who planted the germ.
“Gentlemen who oppose this view of public policy tell us that they
favor a tariff for revenue alone. I therefore invite their attention
to the revenue phase of the question. The estimated expenditures for
the next fiscal year are two hundred and eighty and one-half million
dollars, including interest on the public debt and the
appropriations required by law for the sinking fund. The Secretary
of the Treasury estimates the revenues which our present laws will
furnish at $269,000,000; from customs, one hundred and thirty-three
millions; from internal revenue, one hundred and twenty millions;
and from miscellaneous sources, sixteen millions. He tells us that
it will be necessary to cut down the expenditures eleven millions
below the estimates in order to prevent a deficit of that amount.
The revenues of the last fiscal year failed by three and a quarter
millions to meet the expenditures required by law.
“In the face of these facts can we safely diminish our revenues? If
we mean to preserve the public faith and meet all the necessities of
the Government we can not reduce the present revenues a single
dollar. Yet the majority of this House not only propose to reduce
the internal tax on spirits and tobacco but they propose in this
bill to reduce the revenues on customs by at least $6,000,000. To
avoid the disgrace of a deficit they propose to suspend the
operations of the sinking fund and thereby shake the foundation of
the public credit. But they tell us that some of the reductions made
in this bill will increase rather than diminish the revenue. Perhaps
on a few articles this will be true; but as a whole it is undeniable
that this bill will effect a considerable reduction in the revenues
from customs.
“Gentlemen on the other side have been in the habit of denouncing
our present tariff laws as destructive to, rather than productive
of, revenue. Let me invite their attention to a few plain facts:
“During the fifteen years that preceded our late war—a period of
so-called revenue tariffs—we raised from customs an average annual
revenue of forty-seven and a half million dollars, never in any year
receiving more than sixty-four millions. That system brought us a
heavy deficit in 1860, so that Congress was compelled to borrow
money to meet the ordinary expenses of the Government.
“Do they tell us that our present law fails to produce an adequate
revenue? They denounce it as not a revenue tariff. Let them wrestle
with the following fact: During the eleven years that have passed
since the close of the war we have averaged one hundred and seventy
and one-half million dollars of revenue per annum from customs
alone. Can they say that this is not a revenue tariff which produces
more than three times as much revenue per annum as that law did
which they delight to call ‘the revenue tariff?’ In one year, 1872,
the revenues from the customs amounted to two hundred and twelve
millions. Can they say that the present law does not produce
revenue? It produces from textile fabrics alone more revenue than we
ever raised from all sources under any tariff before the war. From
this it follows that the assault upon the present law fails if made
on the score of revenue alone.
“I freely admit that revenue is the primary object of taxation. That
object is attained by existing law. But it is an incidental and
vitally important object of the law to keep in healthy growth those
industries which are necessary to the well-being of the whole
country.
“Let us glance at the leading industries which, under the provisions
of the existing law, are enabled to maintain themselves in the sharp
struggle of competition with other countries. I will name them in
five groups. In the first I place the textile fabrics, manufactures
of cotton, wool, flax, hemp, jute, and silk. From these we received
during the last fiscal year $50,000,000, which is more than
one-third of all our customs revenue.
“It is said that a tax should not be levied upon the clothing of the
people. This would be a valid objection were it not for the fact
that objects of the highest national importance are secured by its
imposition. That forty-five millions of people should be able to
clothe themselves without helpless dependence upon other nations is
a matter of transcendent importance to every citizen. What American
can be indifferent to the fact that in the year 1875 the State of
Massachusetts alone produced 992,000,000 yards of textile fabrics,
and in doing so consumed seventy-five million dollars’ worth of the
products of the fields and flocks, and gave employment to 120,000
artisans? There is a touch of pathos in the apologetic reply of
Governor Spottswood, an early colonial Governor of Virginia, when he
wrote to his British superiors:
“‘The people of Virginia, more of necessity than inclination,
attempt to clothe themselves with their own manufactures.... It is
certainly necessary to divert their application to some commodity
less prejudicial to the trade of England.’—Bancroft’s _History of
the United States_, vol. iv, page 104.
“Thanks to our independence, such apologies are no longer needed.
Some of the rates on the textiles are exorbitant and ought to be
reduced; but the general principle which pervades the group is wise
and beneficent, not only as a means of raising revenue, but as a
measure of national economy.
“In the second group I have placed the metals, including glass and
chemicals. Though the tariff upon this group has been severely
denounced in this debate, the rate does not average more than
thirty-six per cent. _ad valorem_, and the group produced about
$14,000,000 of revenue last year. Besides serving as a source of
public revenue, what intelligent man fails to see that the metals
are the basis of all the machinery, tools, and implements of every
industry? More than any other in the world’s history, this is the
age when inventive genius is bending all its energies to devise
means to increase the effectiveness of human labor. The mechanical
wonders displayed at our Centennial Exposition are a sufficient
illustration.
“The people that can not make their own implements of industry must
be content to take a very humble and subordinate place in the family
of nations. The people that can not, at any time, by their own
previous training, arm and equip themselves for war, must be content
to exist by the sufferance of others.
“I do not say that no rates in this group are too high. Some of them
can safely be reduced. But I do say these industries could not have
attained their present success without the national care; and to
abandon them now will prevent their continued prosperity.
“In the third group I place wines, spirits, and tobacco in its
various forms which come from abroad. On these, rates of duty range
from eighty-five to ninety-five per cent. _ad valorem_; and from
them we collected last year $10,000,000 of revenue. The wisdom of
this tax will hardly be disputed by any one.
“In the fourth group I have placed imported provisions which come in
competition with the products of our own fields and herds, including
breadstuffs, salt, rice, sugar, molasses, and spices. On these
provisions imported into this country we collected last year a
revenue of $42,000,000, $37,000,000 of which was collected on sugar.
Of the duty on the principal article of this group I shall speak
further on in the discussion.
“On the fifth group, comprising leather and manufactures of leather,
we received about $3,000,000 of revenue.
“On the imports included in the five groups I have mentioned, which
comprise the great manufacturing industries of the country, we
collect $119,000,000—more than ninety per cent. of all our customs
revenue. I ask if it be not an object of the highest national
importance to keep alive and in vigorous health and growth the
industries included in these groups? What sort of people should we
be if we did not keep them alive? Suppose we were to follow the
advice of the distinguished gentleman from Virginia [Mr. Tucker]
when he said:
“‘Why should me make pig-iron when with Berkshire pigs raised upon
our farms we can buy more iron pigs from England than we can get by
trying to make them ourselves? We can get more iron pigs from
England for Berkshire pigs than we can from the Pennsylvania
manufacturers. Why, then, should I not be permitted to send there
for them?...
“‘What a market for our raw material, for our products, if we only
would take the hand which Great Britain extends to us for free-trade
between us!’
“For a single season, perhaps, his plan might be profitable to the
consumers of iron; but if his policy were adopted as a permanent
one, it would reduce us to a merely agricultural people, whose chief
business would be to produce the simplest raw materials by the least
skill and culture, and let the men of brains of other countries do
our thinking for us, and provide for us all products requiring the
cunning hand of the artisan, while we would be compelled to do the
drudgery for ourselves and for them.
“The gentleman from Virginia [Mr. Tucker] is too good a logician not
to see that the theory he advocates can only be realized in a state
of universal peace and brotherhood among the nations; and, in
developing his plan, he says:
“‘Commerce, Mr. Chairman, links all mankind in one common
brotherhood of mutual dependence and interests, and thus creates
that unity of our race which makes the resources of all the property
of each and every member. We can not if we would, and should not if
we could, remain isolated and alone. Men under the benign influence
of Christianity yearn for intercourse, for the interchange of
thought and the products of thought as a means of a common progress
toward a nobler civilization....
“‘Mr. Chairman, I can not believe this is according to the Divine
plan. Christianity bids us seek, in communion with our brethren of
every race and clime, the blessings they can afford us, and to
bestow in return upon them those with which our new continent is
destined to fill the world.’
“This, I admit, is a grand conception, a beautiful vision of the
time when all the nations shall dwell in peace; when all will be, as
it were, one nation, each furnishing to the others what they can not
profitably produce, and all working harmoniously together in the
millennium of peace. If all the kingdoms of the world should become
the kingdom of the Prince of Peace, then I admit that universal
free-trade ought to prevail. But that blessed era is yet too remote
to be made the basis of the practical legislation of to-day. We are
not yet members of the ‘parliament of man, the federation of the
world.’ For the present, the world is divided into separate
nationalities; and that other divine command still applies to our
situation: ‘He that provideth not for his own household has denied
the faith, and is worse than an infidel;’ and, until that better era
arrives, patriotism must supply the place of universal brotherhood.
“For the present Gortschakoff can do more good to the world by
taking care of Russia. The great Bismarck can accomplish more for
his era by being, as he is, a German to the core, and promoting the
welfare of the German Empire. Let Beaconsfield take care of England,
and McMahon of France, and let Americans devote themselves to the
welfare of America. When each does his best for his own nation to
promote prosperity, justice, and peace, all will have done more for
the world than if all had attempted to be cosmopolitans rather than
patriots. [Applause.]
“But I wish to say, Mr. Chairman, that I have no sympathy with those
who approach this question only from the stand-point of their own
local, selfish interest. When a man comes to me and says, ‘Put a
prohibitory duty on the foreign article which competes with my
product, that I may get rich more rapidly,’ he does not excite my
sympathy; he repels me; and when another says, ‘Give no protection
to the manufacturing industries, for I am not a manufacturer and do
not care to have them sustained,’ I say that he, too, is equally
mercenary and unpatriotic. If we were to legislate in that spirit, I
might turn to the gentleman from Chicago and say, ‘Do not ask me to
vote for an appropriation to build a court-house or a post-office in
your city; I never expect to get any letters from that office, and
the people of my district never expect to be in your courts.’ If we
were to act in this spirit of narrow isolation we should be unfit
for the national positions we occupy.
“Too much of our tariff discussions have been warped by narrow and
sectional considerations. But when we base our action upon the
conceded national importance of the great industries I have referred
to, when we recognize the fact that artisans and their products are
essential to the well-being of our country, it follows that there is
no dweller in the humblest cottage on our remotest frontier who has
not a deep personal interest in the legislation that shall promote
these great national industries. Those arts that enable our nation
to rise in the scale of civilization bring their blessings to all,
and patriotic citizens will cheerfully bear a fair share of the
burden necessary to make their country great and self-sustaining. I
will defend a tariff that is national in its aims, that protects and
sustains those interests without which the nation can not become
great and self-sustaining.
“So important, in my view, is the ability of the nation to
manufacture all these articles necessary to arm, equip, and clothe
our people, that if it could not be secured in any other way I would
vote to pay money out of the Federal Treasury to maintain government
iron and steel, woolen and cotton mills, at whatever cost. Were we
to neglect these great interests and depend upon other nations, in
what a condition of helplessness would we find ourselves when we
should be again involved in war with the very nations on whom we
were depending to furnish us these supplies? The system adopted by
our fathers is wiser, for it so encourages the great national
industries as to make it possible at all times for our people to
equip themselves for war, and at the same time increase their
intelligence and skill so as to make them better fitted for all the
duties of citizenship both in war and in peace. We provide for the
common defense by a system which promotes the general welfare.
“I have tried thus summarily to state the grounds on which a tariff
which produces the necessary revenue and at the same time promotes
American manufactures, can be sustained by large-minded men, for
national reasons. How high the rates of such a tariff ought to be is
a question on which there may fairly be differences of opinion.
“Fortunately or unfortunately, on this question I have long occupied
a position between two extremes of opinion. I have long believed,
and I still believe, that the worst evil which has afflicted the
interests of the American artisans and manufacturers has been the
tendency to extremes in our tariff legislation. Our history for the
last fifty years has been a repetition of the same mistake. One
party comes into power, and believing that a protective tariff is a
good thing establishes a fair rate of duty. Not content with that,
they say: ‘This works well, let us have more of it,’ and they raise
the rates still higher, and perhaps go beyond the limits of national
interest.
“Every additional step in that direction increases the opposition
and threatens the stability of the whole system. When the policy of
increase is pushed beyond a certain point, the popular reaction sets
in; the opposite party gets into power and cuts down the high rates.
Not content with reducing the rates that are unreasonable, they
attack and destroy the whole protective system. Then follows a
deficit in the Treasury, the destruction of manufacturing interests,
until the reaction again sets in, the free-traders are overthrown,
and a protective system is again established. In not less than four
distinct periods during the last fifty years has this sort of
revolution taken place in our industrial system. Our great national
industries have thus been tossed up and down between two extremes of
opinion.
“During my term of service in this House I have resisted the effort
to increase the rates of duty whenever I thought an increase would
be dangerous to the stability of our manufacturing interests; and by
doing so, I have sometimes been thought unfriendly to the policy of
protecting American industry. When the necessity of the revenues and
the safety of our manufactures warranted, I have favored a reduction
of rates; and these reductions have aided to preserve the stability
of the system. In one year, soon after the close of the war, we
raised $212,000,000 of revenue from customs.
“In 1870 we reduced the custom duties by the sum of twenty-nine and
one-half millions of dollars. In 1872 they were again reduced by the
sum of forty-four and one half millions. Those reductions were in
the main wise and judicious; and although I did not vote for them
all, yet they have put the fair-minded men of this country in a
position where they can justly resist any considerable reduction
below the present rates.
“My view of the danger of extreme positions on the questions of
tariff rates may be illustrated by a remark made by Horace Greeley
in the last conversation I ever had with that distinguished man.
Said he:
“‘My criticism of you is that you are not sufficiently high
protective in your views.’
“I replied:
“‘What would you advise?’
“He said:
“‘If I had my way—if I were king of this country—I would put a duty
of $100 a ton on pig-iron and a proportionate duty on every thing
else that can be produced in America. The result would be that our
people would be obliged to supply their own wants; manufactures
would spring up; competition would finally reduce prices; and we
should live wholly within ourselves.’
“I replied that the fatal objection to his theory was that no man is
king of this country, with power to make his policy permanent. But
as all our policies depend upon popular support, the extreme measure
proposed would beget an opposite extreme, and our industries would
suffer from violent reactions. For this reason I believe that we
ought to seek that point of stable equilibrium somewhere between a
prohibitory tariff on the one hand, and a tariff that gives no
protection on the other. What is that point of stable equilibrium?
In my judgment it is this: a rate so high that foreign producers can
not flood our markets and break down our home manufacturers, but not
so high as to keep them altogether out, enabling our manufacturers
to combine and raise the prices, nor so high as to stimulate an
unnatural and unhealthy growth of manufactures.
“In other words, I would have the duty so adjusted that every great
American industry can fairly live and make fair profits; and yet so
low that if our manufacturers attempted to put up prices
unreasonably, the competition from abroad would come in and bring
down prices to a fair rate. Such a tariff I believe will be
supported by the great majority of Americans. We are not far from
having such a tariff in our present law. In some respects we have
departed from that standard. Wherever it does, we should amend it,
and by so doing we shall secure stability and prosperity.
“This brings me to the consideration of the pending bill. It was my
hope, at the beginning of the present session, that the Committee of
Ways and Means would enter upon a revision of the tariff in the
spirit I have indicated. The Secretary of the Treasury suggested in
his annual report that a considerable number of articles which
produced but a small amount of revenue, and were not essential to
the prosperity of our manufacturers, could be placed upon the free
list, thus simplifying the law and making it more consistent in its
details. I was ready to assist in such a work of revision; but the
committee had not gone far before it was evident that they intended
to attack the whole system, and, as far as possible, destroy it. The
results of their long and arduous labors are embodied in the pending
bill.
“Some of the rates can be slightly reduced without serious harm; but
many of the reductions proposed in this bill will be fatal. It is
related that when a surgeon was probing an emperor’s wound to find
the ball, he said:
“‘Can your Majesty allow me to go deeper?’
“His Majesty replied:
“‘Probe a little deeper and you will find the Emperor.’
“It is that little deeper probing by this bill that will touch the
vital interests of this country and destroy them.
“The chief charge I make against this bill is that it seeks to
cripple the protective features of the law. It increases rates where
an increase is not necessary, and it cuts them down where cutting
will kill. One of the wisest provisions of our present law is the
establishment of a definite free list. From year to year when it has
been found that any article could safely be liberated from duty it
has been put upon the free list. A large number of raw materials
have thus been made free of duty. This has lightened the burdens of
taxation, and at the same time aided the industries of the country.
“To show the progress that has been made in this direction, it
should be remembered that in 1867 the value of all articles imported
free of duty was but $39,000,000, while in 1877 the free imports
amounted to $181,000,000.
“As I have already said, the Secretary of the Treasury recommends a
still further increase of the free list. But this bill abolishes the
free list altogether and imposes duties upon a large share of
articles now free. And this is done in order to make still greater
reduction upon articles that must be protected if their manufacture
is maintained in this country.
“Let me notice a few of the great industries at which this bill
strikes. In the group of textile fabrics, of which I have spoken,
reductions are made upon the manufactures of cotton which will stop
three-quarters of the cotton mills of the country, and hopelessly
prostrate the business. Still greater violence is done to the wool
and woolen interests. The attempt has been made to show that the
business of wool-growing has declined in consequence of our present
law, and the fact has been pointed out that the number of sheep has
been steadily falling off in the Eastern States. The truth is that
sheep-culture in the United States was never in so healthy a
condition as it is to-day. In 1860 our total wool product was sixty
millions of pounds. In 1877 we produced two hundred and eight
millions of pounds.
“It is true that there is not now so large a number of sheep in the
Eastern States as there were a few years since; but the center of
that industry has been shifted. Of the thirty-five and a half
millions of sheep now in the United States, fourteen and a half
millions are in Texas and the States and Territories west of the
Rocky Mountains. California alone has six and a half millions of
sheep. Not the least important feature of this interest is the
facility it offers for cheap animal food. A great French statesman
has said: ‘It is more important to provide food than clothing,’ and
the growth of sheep accomplishes both objects. Ninety-five per cent.
of all the woolen fabrics manufactured in this country are now made
of native wool.
“The tariff on wools and woolens was adopted in 1867, after a most
careful and thorough examination of both the producing and
manufacturing interests. It was the result of an adjustment between
the farmers and manufacturers, and has been advantageous to both. A
small reduction of the rates could be made without injury.
“Both of these interests consented to a reduction, and submitted
their plan to the Committee of Ways and Means. But instead of
adopting it, the committee have struck those interests down, and put
a dead level ad valorem duty upon all wools. The chairman tells us
that the committee had sought to do away with the _ad valorem_
system, because it gave rise to fraudulent invoices and
undervaluation. Yet on the interest that yields twenty millions of
revenue, he proposes to strike down the specific duties and put the
interest upon one dead level of _ad valorem_ duty without regard to
quality.
“I would not introduce sectional topics in this discussion, but I
must notice one curious feature of this bill. In the great group of
provisions, on which nearly fifty millions of revenue are paid into
the Treasury, I find that thirty-seven millions of that amount come
from imported sugar. No one would defend the levying of so heavy a
tax upon a necessary article of food were it not that a great
agricultural interest is thereby protected, and that interest is
mainly confined to the State of Louisiana. I am glad that the
Government has given its aid to the State, for not a pound of sugar
could be manufactured there if the tariff law did not protect it.
“As the law now stands, the average _ad valorem_ duty on sugar is
sixty-two and one-half per cent. But what has this bill done? The
complaint is made by its advocates that the rates are now too high.
The rates on all dutiable articles average about forty-two per
cent.; yet on sugar the average is sixty-two and one-half per cent.,
greatly above the average. This bill puts up the average duty on
sugar to about seventy per cent. This one interest, which is already
protected by a duty much higher than the average, is granted a still
higher rate, while other interests, now far below the average rate,
are put still lower. Metals, that now average but thirty-six per
cent. _ad valorem_, far less than the general average—but little
more than half of the rate on sugar—are cut down still more, while
the protection of the sugar interest is made still higher.
“If the planters of Louisiana were to get the benefit there would be
some excuse for the increase; but what is the fact? One thousand
four hundred and fifteen million pounds of sugar were imported into
this country last year, but not one pound of refined sugar; every
pound was imported in the crude form, going into the hands of about
twenty-five gentlemen, mostly in the city of New York, who refine
every pound of this enormous quantity of imported sugar. This bill
increases the rates on the high grades of sugar far more than on the
lower grades, and makes the importation of any finished sugar
impossible. It strengthens and makes absolute the monopoly already
given to the refining interest; yet we are told that this is a
revenue-reform tariff.
“Before closing I wish to notice one thing which I believe has not
been mentioned in this debate. A few years ago we had a considerable
premium on gold, and as our tariff duties were paid in coin, there
was thus created an increase in the tariff rates. In 1875, for
instance, the average currency value of coin was one hundred and
fourteen cents; in 1876, one hundred and eleven cents; in 1877, one
hundred and four cents. Now, thanks to the resumption law and the
rate of our exchanges and credit, the premium on gold is almost down
to zero. But this fall in the premium has operated as a steady
reduction of the tariff rates, because the duties were paid in gold
and the goods were sold in currency.
“Now, when gentlemen say that the rates were high a few years ago,
it should be remembered that they have been falling year by year, as
the price of gold has been coming down. When, therefore, gentlemen
criticise the rates as fixed in the law of 1872, they should
remember that the fall in the premium on gold has wrought a virtual
reduction of fourteen per cent. in the tariff rates.
“Mr. Chairman, the Committee of Ways and Means has done a large
amount of work on this bill. But the views which have found
expression in his bill must be criticised without regard to personal
consideration. A bill so radical in its character, so dangerous to
our business prosperity, would work infinite mischief at this time,
when the country is just recovering itself from a long period of
depression and getting again upon solid ground, just coming up out
of the wild sea of panic and distress which has tossed us so long.
“Let it be remembered that twenty-two per cent. of all the laboring
people of this country are artisans engaged in manufactures. Their
culture has been fostered by our tariff laws. It is their pursuits
and the skill which they have developed that produced the glory of
our centennial exhibition. To them the country owes the splendor of
the position it holds before the world more than to any other equal
number of our citizens. If this bill becomes a law, it strikes down
their occupation and throws into the keenest distress the brightest
and best elements of our population.
“It is not simply a stalking-horse upon which gentlemen can leap to
show their horsemanship in debate; it is not an innocent lay-figure
upon which gentlemen may spread the gaudy wares of their rhetoric
without harm; but it is a great, dangerous monster, a very
Polyphemus which stalks through the land. _Monstrum horrendum,
informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum._ If its eye be not out, let us
take it out and end the agony.” [Applause on the Republican side.]
But the correlative of revenue is expenditure. Only one other man of
this age ever attempted a philosophy of national expenditure besides
Garfield—that was Gladstone. No other American ever attempted to
regulate appropriations by a philosophical principle. No other man ever
attempted to reduce the fabulous and irregular outlay of the Government
to a science. Of Garfield’s studies in this direction we have spoken
elsewhere. On January 23, 1872, upon the introduction of his first bill
as Chairman of the Committee on Appropriations he delivered an elaborate
speech on the subject of
PUBLIC EXPENDITURES
“It is difficult to discuss expenditures comprehensively without
discussing also the revenues; but I shall on this occasion allude to
the revenues only on a single point. Revenue and the expenditure of
revenue form by far the most important element in the government of
modern nations. Revenue is not, as some one has said, the friction
of a government, but rather its motive power. Without it the
machinery of a government can not move; and by it all the movements
of a government are regulated. The expenditure of revenue forms the
grand level from which all heights and depths of legislative action
are measured. The increase and the diminution of the burdens of
taxation depend alike upon their relation to this level of
expenditures. That level once given, all other policies must conform
to it and be determined by it. The expenditure of revenue and its
distribution, therefore, form the best test of the health, the
wisdom, and the virtue of a government. Is a government corrupt?
that corruption will inevitably, sooner or later, show itself at the
door of the treasury in demands for money. There is scarcely a
conceivable form of corruption or public wrong that does not at last
present itself at the cashier’s desk and demand money. The
legislature, therefore, that stands at the cashier’s desk and
watches with its Argus eyes the demands for payment over the
counter, is most certain to see all the forms of public rascality.
At that place, too, we may feel the Nation’s pulse; we may determine
whether it is in the delirium of fever or whether the currents of
its life are flowing with the steady throbbings of health. What
could have torn down the gaudy fabric of the late government of
France so effectually as the simple expedient of compiling and
publishing a balance sheet of the expenditures of Napoleon’s
government, as compared with the expenditures of the fifteen years
which preceded his reign? A quiet student of finance exhibited the
fact that during fifteen years of Napoleon’s reign the expenditures
of his government had been increased by the enormous total of three
hundred and fifty million dollars in gold per annum.
HOW SHALL EXPENDITURES BE GAUGED?
“Such, in my view, are the relations which the expenditures of the
revenue sustain to the honor and safety of the nation. How, then,
shall they be regulated? By what gauge shall we determine the amount
of revenue that ought to be expended by a nation? This question is
full of difficulty, and I can hope to do little more than offer a
few suggestions in the direction of its solution.
“And, first, I remark that the mere amount of the appropriations is
in itself no test. To say that this government is expending two
hundred and ninety-two million dollars a year, may be to say that we
are penurious and niggardly in our expenditures, and may be to say
that we are lavish and prodigal. There must be some ground of
relative judgment, some test by which we can determine whether
expenditures are reasonable or exorbitant. It has occurred to me
that two tests can be applied.
TEST OF POPULATION.
“The first and most important is the relation of expenditure to the
population. In some ratio corresponding to the increase of
population it may be reasonable to increase the expenditures of a
government. This is the test usually applied in Europe. In an
official table I have before me the expenditures of the British
government for the last fifteen years, I find the statement made
over against the annual average of each year of the expenditure _per
capita_ of the population. The average expenditure _per capita_ for
that period, was two pounds, seven shillings and seven pence, or
about twelve dollars in gold, with a slight tendency to decrease
each year. In our own country, commencing with 1830 and taking the
years when the census was taken, I find that the expenditures, _per
capita_, exclusive of payments on the principal and interest of the
public debt were as follows:
In 1830 $1 03
In 1840 1 41
In 1850 1 60
In 1860 1 94
In 1870 4 26
or, excluding pensions, three dollars and fifty-two cents. No doubt
this test is valuable. But how shall it be applied? Shall the
increase of expenditures keep pace with the population? We know that
population tends to increase in a geometrical ratio, that is, at a
per cent. compounded annually. If the normal increase of
expenditures follow the same law, we might look forward to the
future with alarm. It is manifest, however, that the necessity of
expenditures does not keep pace with the mere increase of numbers;
and while the total sum of money expended must necessarily be
greater from year to year, the amount _per capita_ ought in all
well-regulated governments in time of peace to grow gradually less.
TEST OF TERRITORIAL SETTLEMENT AND EXPANSION.
“But in a country like ours there is another element besides
population that helps to determine the movement of expenditures.
That element can hardly be found in any other country. It is the
increase and settlement of our territory, the organic increase of
the nation by the addition of new States. To begin with the original
thirteen States, and gauge expenditure till now by the increase of
population alone, would be manifestly incorrect. But the fact that
there have been added twenty-four States, and that we now have nine
territories, not including Alaska, brings a new and important
element into the calculation. It is impossible to estimate the
effect of this element upon expenditures. But if we examine our own
records from the beginning of the Government, it will appear that
every great increase of settled territory has very considerably
added to the expenditures.
“If these reflections be just, it will follow that the ordinary
movement of our expenditures depends upon the action of two forces:
first, the natural growth of population, and second, the extension
of our territory and the increase in the number of our States. Some
day, no doubt—and I hope at no distant day—we shall have reached the
limit of territorial expansion. I hope we have reached it now,
except to enlarge the number of States within our borders; and when
we have settled our unoccupied lands, when we have laid down the
fixed and certain boundaries of our country, then the movement of
our expenditure in time of peace will be remitted to the operation
of the one law, the increase of population. That law, as I have
already intimated, is not an increase by a per cent. compounded
annually, but by a per cent. that decreases annually. No doubt the
expenditures will always increase from year to year; but they ought
not to increase by the same per cent. from year to year; the rate of
increase ought gradually to grow less.
EXPENDITURES OF ENGLAND.
“In England, for example, where the territory is fixed, and they are
remitted to the single law of increase of population, the increase
of expenditure during the last fifteen years of peace has been only
about one and three-quarter per cent. compounded annually. I believe
nobody has made a very careful estimate of the rate in our country;
our growth has been too irregular to afford data for an accurate
estimate. But a gentleman who has given much attention to the
subject expressed to me the belief that our expenditures in time of
peace have increased about eight per cent. compounded annually. I
can hardly believe it; yet I am sure that somewhere between that and
the English rate will be found our rate of increase in times of
peace. I am aware that such estimates as these are unsatisfactory,
and that nothing short of the actual test of experience can
determine the movements of our expenditures; but these suggestions
which have resulted from some study of the subject, I offer for the
reflection of those who care to follow them out.
EFFECTS OF WAR ON EXPENDITURES.
“Thus far I have considered the expenditures that arise in times of
peace. Any view of this subject would be incomplete that did not
include a consideration of the effect of war upon national
expenditures. I have spoken of what the rate ought to be in time of
peace, for carrying on a government. I will next consider the effect
of war on the rate of increase. And here we are confronted with that
anarchic element, the plague of nations, which Jeremy Bentham called
‘mischief on the largest scale.’ After the fire and blood of the
battle-fields have disappeared, nowhere does war show its destroying
power so certainly and so relentlessly as in the columns which
represent the taxes and expenditures of the nation. Let me
illustrate this by two examples.
“In 1792, the year preceding the commencement of the great war
against Napoleon, the expenditures of Great Britain were less than
twenty million pounds sterling.
“During the twenty-four years that elapsed, from the commencement of
that wonderful struggle until its close at Waterloo, in 1815, the
expenditures rose by successive bounds, until, in one year near the
close of the war, it reached the enormous sum of one hundred and six
million seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
“The unusual increase of the public debt, added to the natural
growth of expenditures from causes already discussed, made it
impossible for England ever to reach her old level of expenditure.
It took twenty years after Waterloo to reduce expenditures from
seventy-seven million seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds, the
annual average of the second decade of the century, to forty-five
million seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds, the expenditure for
1835.
“This last figure was the lowest England has known during the
present century. Then followed nearly forty years of peace, from
Waterloo to the Crimean war in 1854. The figures for that period may
be taken to represent the natural growth of expenditures in England.
During that period the expenditures increased, in a tolerably
uniform ratio, from forty-five million seven hundred and fifty
thousand pounds, the amount for 1835, to about fifty-one million
seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds, the average for the five
years ending 1853–’54. This increase was about four million dollars
of our money per annum. Then came the Crimean war of 1854–1856,
during one year of which the expenditures rose to eighty-four
million five hundred thousand pounds.
“Again, as after the Napoleonic war, it required several years for
the expenditures of the kingdom to get down to the new level of
peace, which level was much higher than that of the former peace.
“During the last ten years the expenditures of Great Britain have
again been gradually increasing; the average for the six years
ending with March 31, 1871, being sixty-eight million seven hundred
and fifty thousand pounds.
WAR EXPENDITURES OF THE UNITED STATES.
“As the second example of the effect of war on the movement of
national expenditures, I call attention to our own history.
“Considering the ordinary expenses of the Government, exclusive of
payments on the principal and interest of the public debt, the
annual average may be stated thus:
“Beginning with 1791, the last decade of the eighteenth century
showed an annual average of three million seven hundred and fifty
thousand dollars. During the first decade of the present century,
the average was nearly five million five hundred thousand dollars.
Or, commencing with 1791, there followed twenty years of peace,
during which the annual average of ordinary expenditures was more
than doubled. Then followed four years, from 1812 to 1815,
inclusive, in which the war with England swelled the average to
twenty-five million five hundred thousand dollars. During the five
years succeeding that war, the average was sixteen million five
hundred thousand dollars, and it was not until 1821 that the new
level of peace was reached. During the five years, from 1820 to
1825, inclusive, the annual average was eleven million five hundred
thousand dollars. From 1825 to 1830, it was thirteen million
dollars. From 1830 to 1835, it was seventeen million dollars. From
1835 to 1840, in which period occurred the Seminole war, it was
thirty million five hundred thousand dollars. From 1840 to 1845, it
was twenty-seven million dollars. From 1845 to 1850, during which
occurred the Mexican war, it was forty million five hundred thousand
dollars. From 1850 to 1855, it was forty-seven million five hundred
thousand dollars. From 1855 to June 30, 1861, it was sixty-seven
million dollars. From June 30, 1861, to June 30, 1866, seven hundred
and thirteen million seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and
from June 30, 1866, to June 30, 1871, the annual average was one
hundred and eighty-nine million dollars.
“It is interesting to inquire how far we may reasonably expect to go
in the descending scale before we reach the new level of peace. We
have already seen that it took England twenty years after Waterloo
before she reached such a level. Our own experience has been
peculiar in this, that our people have been impatient of debt, and
have always determinedly set about the work of reducing it.
DURATION OF WAR EXPENDITURES.
“Throughout our history there may be seen a curious uniformity in
the movement of the annual expenditures for the years immediately
following a war. We have not the data to determine how long it was,
after the war of independence, before the expenditures ceased to
decrease; that is, before they reached the point where their natural
growth more than balanced the tendency to reduction of war
expenditure; but in the years immediately following all our
subsequent wars, the decrease has continued for a period almost
exactly twice the length of the war itself.
“After the war of 1812–’15, the expenditures continued to decline
for eight years, reaching the lowest point in 1823.
“After the Seminole war, which ran through three years, 1836, 1837,
and 1838, the new level was not reached until 1844, six years after
its close.
“After the Mexican war, which lasted two years, it took four years,
until 1852, to reach the new level of peace.”
Probably the most remarkable portion of this speech is the following
prophecy:
WHEN SHALL WE REACH OUR NEW LEVEL OF EXPENDITURES?
“It is, perhaps, unsafe to base our calculations for the future on
these analogies; but the wars already referred to have been of such
varied character, and their financial effects have been so uniform,
as to make it not unreasonable to expect that a similar result will
follow our late war. If so, the decrease of our ordinary
expenditures, exclusive of the principal and interest of the public
debt, will continue until 1875 or 1876.
“It will be seen by an analysis of our expenditures, that, exclusive
of charges on the public debt, nearly fifty million dollars are
expenditures directly for the late war. Many of these expenditures
will not again appear, such as the bounty and back pay of volunteer
soldiers, and payment of illegal captures of British vessels and
cargoes. We may reasonably expect that the expenditures for pensions
will hereafter steadily decrease, unless our legislation should be
unwarrantably extravagant. We may also expect a large decrease in
expenditures for the internal revenue department. Possibly, we may
ultimately be able to abolish the department altogether. In the
accounting and disbursing bureaus of the treasury department, we may
also expect a further reduction of the force now employed in
settling war claims.
“We can not expect so rapid a reduction of the public debt and its
burden of interest as we have witnessed for the last three years;
but the reduction will doubtless continue, and the burden of
interest will constantly decrease. I know it is not safe to attempt
to forecast the future; but I venture to express the belief that if
peace continues, the year 1876 will witness our ordinary
expenditures reduced to one hundred and twenty-five million dollars,
and the interest on our public debt to ninety-five million dollars;
making our total expenditures, exclusive of payment on the principal
of the public debt, two hundred and thirty million dollars. Judging
from our own experience and from that of other nations, we may not
hope thereafter to reach a lower figure. In making this estimate, I
have assumed that there will be a considerable reduction of the
burdens of taxation; and a revenue not nearly so great in excess of
the expenditures as we now collect.”
Seven years afterwards, in the June number (1879) of the _North American
Review_, General Garfield quoted the above paragraphs from the speech of
January, 1872, and called attention to the fulfillment of his prediction
in the following words:
“Reviewing the subject in the light of subsequent experience, it
will be seen that the progress of reduction of expenditures from the
war level has been very nearly in accordance with these expectations
of seven years ago.
“The actual expenditures since the war, including interest on the
public debt, as shown by the official record, were as follows:
1865 $1,297,555,224 41
1866 520,899,416 99
1867 357,542,675 16
1868 377,340,284 86
1869 322,865,277 80
1870 399,653,560 75
1871 292,177,188 25
1872 277,517,962 67
1873 290,345,245 33
1874 287,133,873 17
1875 274,623,392 84
1876 258,459,797 33
1877 238,660,008 93
1878 236,964,326 80
“Omitting the first of these years, in which the enormous payments
to the army swelled the aggregate of expenses to $1,297,000,000, and
beginning with the first full year after the termination of the war,
it will be seen that the expenditures have been reduced, at first
very rapidly, and then more slowly, from $520,000,000 in 1866 to
about $237,000,000 in 1878.
“The estimate quoted above was that in 1876 expenditures would be
reduced to $230,000,000, including $95,000,000 for interest on the
public debt. In 1877, one year later than the estimated date, the
actual reduction had reached $238,000,000, including $97,000,000 for
interest on the public debt. [He means the expenditures _had been
reduced to_ $238,000,000.]
“It is evident that in 1877 we had very nearly reached the limit of
possible reduction, for the aggregate expenditures of 1878 show a
reduction below that of the preceding year of less than $2,000,000;
and the expenditures, actual and estimated, for the current year
ending June 30, 1879, are $240,000,000. It thus appears that 1878
was the turning-point from which, under the influence of the
elements of normal growth, we may expect a constant, though it ought
to be a small, annual increase of expenditures.”
If anywhere there is to be found a more scientific statesmanship than
this, the average man knows not the place to seek it out. Garfield had
discovered the law of the increase and decrease of national
expenditures. It was as fixed as the laws which lengthen and shorten the
day. Scientists agree that the laws of society are far more difficult of
discovery and of demonstration than the laws of nature. Only one man in
a generation makes any real advance in the study of those laws which
pervade the affairs of men. In his philosophy of public expenditures,
James A. Garfield was that man of his political generation. On March 5,
1874, in another speech on the same topic, he unfolded the philosophy
and laws of growth of the public debt. As usual, it is an illumination
of a vast and foggy subject. It is impossible to give, in our already
crowded pages, even a synopsis of this address.
There can be no question that Garfield was the most perfect master of
the themes of revenue and expenditure in his generation. With the
exception of the tariff, they were not questions which could be brought
into politics. In their nature, they were so dry and complicated that
the House itself, much less the people, knew but little of the enormous
labor performed by General Garfield on the subject. He applied his
immense energies to the task as cheerfully as if the questions were
those of the next campaign, instead of being known only in the
committee-room. His research would gain him no contemporary laurels, his
toil bring him no applause. But he grappled with the monster of public
debt, which had its clutch on England’s throat, and was reaching toward
the New Republic. He who knew so well how to thrill the audience and
shake the building with plausive thunders, embodied the results of his
work in speeches, which his friends possibly thought impractical and
certainly tiresome. They lie embalmed in the mighty mausoleum of the
_Congressional Record_, hidden away from the prying eyes of mankind.
Some future statesman, with more industry or genius than his
contemporaries, will, perchance, come with pick and shovel to excavate
and disinter the buried children of the brain. If so, like the
recently-discovered remains at Mycenæ and Thebes, they will be
pronounced of royal blood.
We now pass to the last branch of the subject discussed in this chapter.
This relates to the record of Garfield in relation to questions
concerning the general character and tendency of American institutions.
This question opens the door to what would make a volume of General
Garfield’s speeches. Under a rigid necessity of condensation, we can
only give broken extracts from three addresses.
On July 2, 1873, before the students of the Western Reserve College, at
Hudson, Ohio, he spoke on—
THE FUTURE OF THE REPUBLIC.
“What do men mean when they predict the immortality of any thing
earthly?
“The first Napoleon was one day walking through the galleries of the
Louvre, filled with the wonders of art which he had stolen from the
conquered capitals of Europe. As he passed the marvelous picture of
Peter Martyr, one of the seven masterpieces of the world, he
overheard an enthusiastic artist exclaim: ‘Immortal work!’ Turning
quickly upon his heel, the Emperor asked: ‘What is the average life
of an oil-painting?’ ‘Five hundred years,’ answered the artist.
‘Immortal!’ the Corsican scornfully repeated as he passed on,
thinking doubtless of Austerlitz and Marengo. Six years ago the
wonderful picture of Peter Martyr was dissolved in the flames of a
burning church at Venice, and, like Austerlitz, is now only a memory
and a dream.
“When the great lyric poet of Rome ventured to predict immortality
for his works, he could think of no higher human symbol of
immortality than the Eternal City and her institutions, crowded with
seven centuries of glorious growth; and so Horace declared that his
verses would be remembered as long as the high-priest of Apollo and
the silent vestal virgin should climb the steps of the Capitol.
Fifteen centuries ago the sacred fires of Vesta went out, never to
be rekindled. For a thousand years Apollo has had no shrine, no
priest, no worshiper on the earth. The steps of the Capitol, and the
temples that crowned it, live only in dreams, and to-day the
antiquary digs and disputes among the ruins, and is unable to tell
us where on the Capitoline hill the great citadel of Rome stood.
“There is much in the history of dead empires to sadden and
discourage our hope for the permanence of any human institution. But
a deeper study reveals the fact that nations have perished only when
their institutions have ceased to be serviceable to the human race;
when their faith has become an empty form, and the destruction of
the old is indispensable to the growth of the new. Growth is better
than permanence; and permanent growth is better than all. Our faith
is large in time; and we—
“‘Doubt not through the ages, an increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widened by the process of the suns.’
“It matters little what may be the forms of national institutions,
if the life, freedom, and growth of society are secured. To save the
life of a nation, it is sometimes necessary to discard the old form
and make room for the new growth; for—
“‘Old decays but foster new creations;
Bones and ashes feed the golden corn;
Fresh elixirs wander every moment
Down the veins through which the live part feeds its child, the life
unborn.’
“There are two classes of forces whose action and reaction determine
the condition of a nation—the forces of repression and expression.
The one acts from without—limits, curbs, restrains. The other acts
from within—expands, enlarges, propels. Constitutional forms,
statutory limitations, conservative customs belong to the first. The
free play of individual life, the opinion and action belong to the
second. If these forces be happily balanced, if there be a wise
conservation and correlation of both, a nation may enjoy the double
blessing of progress and permanence.
“How are these forces acting upon our nation at the present time?
“Our success has been so great hitherto, we have passed safely
through so many perils which at the time seemed almost fatal, that
we may assume that the Republic will continue to live and prosper,
unless it shall be assailed by dangers which outnumber and outweigh
the elements of its strength. It is idle to boast of what we are,
and what we are to be, unless at the same time we compare our
strength with the magnitude of our dangers.
“What, then, are our dangers: and how can they be conquered?...
“In the first place, our great dangers are not from without. We do
not live by the consent of any other nation. We must look within to
find the elements of danger. The first and most obvious of these is
territorial expansion—overgrowth; the danger that we shall break in
pieces by our own weight. This has been the commonplace of
historians and publicists for many centuries; and its truth has
found many striking illustrations in the experience of mankind. But
we have fair ground for believing that new conditions and new forces
have nearly, if not wholly, removed the ground of this danger.
Distance, estrangement, isolation have been overcome by the recent
amazing growth in the means of intercommunion. For political and
industrial purposes, California and Massachusetts are nearer
neighbors to-day than were Philadelphia and Boston in the days of
the Revolution. The people of all our thirty-seven States know more
of each other’s affairs than the Vermonter knew of his Virginia
neighbor’s fifty years ago. It was distance, isolation, ignorance of
separate parts that broke the cohesive force of the great empires of
antiquity. Public affairs are now more public, and private less
private, than in former ages. The Railroad, the Telegraph, and the
Press, have virtually brought our citizens, with their opinions and
industries, face to face; and they live almost in each other’s
sight. The leading political, social, and industrial events of this
day will be reported and discussed at more than two millions of
American breakfast-tables to-morrow morning. Public opinion is kept
in constant exercise and training. It keeps itself constantly in
hand—ready to approve, condemn, and command. It may be wrong, it may
be tyrannical; but it is all-pervading, and constitutes, more than
ever before, a strong band of nationality.
“After all, territory is but the body of a nation. The people who
inhabit its hills and its valleys are its soul, its spirit, its
life. In them dwells its hope of immortality. Among them, if
anywhere, are to be found its chief elements of destruction.”
In the latter part of the address, he discussed Lord Macaulay’s famous
letter, in which he predicted that, with universal suffrage, our
Republic was all sail and no ballast; that when the country was
populated like Europe, the Government would fall in the inevitable
conflict between labor and capital.
“With all my heart I repel that letter as false. My first answer is
this: No man who has not lived among us can understand one thing
about our institutions; no man who has been born and reared under
monarchical governments can understand the vast difference between
theirs and ours. How is it in monarchical governments? Their society
is one series of caste upon caste. Down at the bottom, like the
granite rocks in the crust of the earth, lie the great body of
laboring men. An Englishman told me not long ago that in twenty-five
years of careful study of the agricultural class of England, he had
never known one who was born and reared in the ranks of farm
laborers that rose above his class and became a well-to-do citizen.
That is a most terrible sentence, that three millions of people
should lie at the bottom of society, with no power to rise. Above
them the gentry, the hereditary capitalist; above them, the
nobility; above them, the royalty; and, crowning all, the
sovereign—all impassable barriers of caste.
“No man born under such institutions can understand the mighty
difference between them and us in this country. Thank God, and thank
the fathers of the Republic who made, and the men who carried out
the promises of the Declaration, that in this country there are no
classes, fixed and impassable. Here society is not fixed in
horizontal layers, like the crust of the earth, but as a great New
England man said, years ago, it is rather like the ocean, broad,
deep, grand, open, and so free in all its parts that every drop that
mingles with the yellow sand at the bottom may rise through all the
waters, till it gleams in the sunshine on the crest of the highest
waves. So it is here in our free society, permeated with the light
of American freedom. There is no American boy, however poor, however
humble, orphan though he may be, that, if he have a clear head, a
true heart, a strong arm, he may not rise through all the grades of
society, and become the crown, the glory, the pillar of the State.
“Again, in depicting the dangers of universal suffrage, Macaulay
leaves wholly out of the account the great counterbalancing force of
universal education. He contemplates the government delivered over
to a vast multitude of ignorant, vicious men, who have learned no
self-control, who have never comprehended the national life, and who
will wield the ballot solely for personal and selfish ends. If this
were indeed the necessary condition of Democratic communities, it
would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to escape the logic of
Macaulay’s letter. And here is a real peril—the danger that we shall
rely upon the mere extent of the suffrage as a national safeguard.
We can not safely, even for a moment, lose sight of the _quality_ of
the suffrage, which is more important than its quantity.
* * * * *
“Our faith in the Democratic principle rests upon the belief that
intelligent men will see that their highest political good is in
liberty, regulated by just and equal laws; and that in the
distribution of political power it is safe to follow the maxim,
‘Each for all, and all for each.’ We confront the dangers of the
suffrage by the blessings of universal education.”
We present next a brief extract from an address delivered February 11,
1879,
ON THE RELATION OF THE GOVERNMENT TO SCIENCE.
“What ought to be the relation of the National Government to
science? What, if any thing, ought we to do in the way of promoting
science? For example, if we have the power, would it be wise for
Congress to appropriate money out of the Treasury to employ
naturalists to find out all that is to be known of our American
birds. Ornithology is a delightful and useful study; but would it be
wise for Congress to make an appropriation for the advancement of
that science? In my judgment manifestly not. We would thereby make
one favored class of men the rivals of all the ornithologists who in
their private way, following the bent of their genius, may be
working out the results of science in that field. I have no doubt
that an appropriation out of our Treasury for that purpose would be
a positive injury to the advancement of science, just as an
appropriation to establish a church would work injury to religion.
“Generally the desire of our scientific men is to be let alone to
work in free competition with all the scientific men of the world;
to develop their own results, and get the credit of them, each for
himself; not to have the Government enter the lists as a rival of
private enterprise.
“As a general principle, therefore, the United States ought not to
interfere in matters of science, but should leave its development to
the free, voluntary action of our great third estate, the people
themselves.
“In this non-interference theory of the Government I do not go to
the extent of saying that we should do nothing for education—for
primary education. That comes under another consideration—the
necessity of the nation to protect itself, and the consideration
that it is cheaper and wiser to give education than to build jails.
But I am speaking now of the higher sciences.
“To the general principle I have stated, there are a few obvious
exceptions which should be clearly understood when we legislate on
the subject. In the first place the Government should aid all sorts
of scientific inquiry that are necessary to the intelligent exercise
of its own functions.
“For example, as we are authorized by the Constitution, and
compelled by necessity, to build and maintain light-houses on our
coast and establish fog-signals, we are bound to make all necessary
scientific inquiries in reference to light and its laws, sound and
its laws—to do whatever in the way of science is necessary to
achieve the best results in lighting our coasts and warning our
mariners of danger. So, when we are building iron-clads for our
navy, or casting guns for our army, we ought to know all that is
scientifically possible to be known about the strength of materials
and the laws of mechanics which apply to such structures. In short,
wherever in exercising any of the necessary functions of the
Government, scientific inquiry is needed; let us make it to the
fullest extent, and at the public expense.
“There is another exception to the general rule of leaving science
to the voluntary action of the people. Wherever any great popular
interest, affecting whole classes, possibly all classes of the
community, imperatively need scientific investigation, and private
enterprise can not accomplish it, we may wisely intervene and help,
where the Constitution gives us authority. For example, in
discovering the origin of yellow fever, and the methods of
preventing its ravages, the nation should do, for the good of all,
what neither the States nor individuals can accomplish. I might
perhaps include, in a third exception, those inquiries which, in
consequence of their great magnitude and cost, can not be
successfully made by private individuals. Outside these three
classes of inquiries, the Government ought to keep its hands off,
and leave scientific experiment and inquiry to the free competition
of those bright, intelligent men whose genius leads them into the
fields of research.”
Passing abruptly from valley to mountain-peak, we present the substance
of one of the most characteristic and original speeches mentioned in
this book. It was delivered March 29, 1879. Though political in its
immediate object, it will probably be remembered and quoted from as long
as the name of Garfield lingers on the lips of men. The speaker states
the question before the House better than any one else could do.
REVOLUTION IN CONGRESS.
“Let me, in the outset, state as carefully as I may, the precise
situation. At the last session, all our ordinary legislative work
was done, in accordance with the usages of the House and the Senate,
except as to two bills. Two of the twelve great appropriation bills
for the support of the Government were agreed to in both Houses as
to every matter of detail concerning the appropriation proper. We
were assured by the committees of conference in both bodies that
there would be no difficulty in adjusting all differences in
reference to the amount of money to be appropriated and the objects
of its appropriation. But the House of Representatives proposed
three measures of distinctly independent legislation; one upon the
Army Appropriation Bill, and two upon the Legislative Appropriation
Bill. The three grouped together are briefly these: first, the
substantial modification of certain sections of the law relating to
the use of the army; second, the repeal of the jurors’ test oath;
and third, the repeal of the laws regulating elections of members of
Congress.
“These three propositions of legislation were insisted upon by the
House, but the Senate refused to adopt them. So far it was an
ordinary proceeding, one which occurs frequently in all legislative
bodies. The Senate said to us, through their conferees: ‘We are
ready to pass the appropriation bills, but are unwilling to pass, as
riders, the three legislative measures you ask us to pass.’
Thereupon the House, through its conference committee, made the
following declaration. And, in order that I may do exact justice, I
read from the speech of the distinguished Senator from Kentucky [Mr.
Beck]:
“‘The Democratic conferees on the part of the House seem determined
that unless those rights were secured to the people—’
“Alluding to the three points I have named—‘in the bill sent to the
Senate they would refuse, under their constitutional right, to make
appropriations to carry on the Government, if the dominant majority
in the Senate insisted upon the maintenance of these laws and
_refused to consent_ to their appeal.’
“Then, after stating that if the position they had taken compelled
an extra session, and that the new Congress would offer the
repealing bills separately, and forecasting what would happen when
the new House should be under no necessity of coercing the Senate,
he declared that—
“‘If, however, the President of the United States, in the exercise
of the power vested in him, should see fit to veto the bills thus
presented to him, ... then I have no doubt those same amendments
will be again made part of the appropriation bills, and it will be
for the President to determine whether he will block the wheels of
Government and refuse to accept necessary appropriations rather than
allow the representatives of the people to repeal odious laws which
they regard as subversive of their rights and privileges.... Whether
that course is right or wrong, it will be adopted, and I have no
doubt adhered to, no matter what happens with the appropriation
bills.’
“That was the proposition made by the Democracy in Congress at the
close of the Congress now dead.
“Another distinguished Senator [Mr. Thurman]—and I may properly
refer to Senators of a Congress not now in existence—reviewing the
situation, declared, in still more succinct terms:
“‘We claim the right, which the House of Commons in England
established after two centuries of contest, to say we will not grant
the money of the people unless there is a redress of grievances.’
“These propositions were repeated with various degrees of vehemence
by the majority in the House.
“The majority in the Senate and the minority on this floor expressed
the deepest anxiety to avoid an extra session and to avert the
catastrophe thus threatened—the stoppage of the Government. They
pointed out the danger to the country and its business interests of
an extra session of Congress, and expressed their willingness to
consent to any compromise consistent with their views of duty which
should be offered—not in the way of coercion but in the way of fair
adjustment—and asked to be met in a spirit of just accommodation on
the other side. Unfortunately no spirit of adjustment was manifested
in reply to their advances. And now the new Congress is assembled:
and after ten days of caucus deliberation, the House of
Representatives has resolved, substantially, to reaffirm the
positions of its predecessors.
THE VOLUNTARY POWERS OF THE GOVERNMENT.
“I had occasion, at a late hour of the last Congress, to say
something on what may be called the voluntary element in our
institutions. I spoke of the distribution of the powers of
Government. First, to the nation; second, to the States; and third,
the reservation of power to the people themselves.
“I called attention to the fact that under our form of government
the most precious rights that men can possess on this earth are not
delegated to the nation, nor to the States, but are reserved to the
third estate—the people themselves. I called attention to the
interesting fact that lately the chancellor of the German Empire
made the declaration that it was the chief object of the existence
of the German government to defend and maintain the religion of
Jesus Christ—an object in reference to which our Congress is
absolutely forbidden by the Constitution to legislate at all.
Congress can establish no religion; indeed, can make no law
respecting it, because in the view of our fathers—the founders of
our government—religion was too precious a right to intrust its
interests by delegation to any body. Its maintenance was left to the
voluntary action of the people themselves.
“In continuation of that thought, I wish now to speak of the
voluntary element inside our Government—a topic that I have not
often heard discussed, but one which appears to me of vital
importance in any comprehensive view of our institutions.
“Mr. Chairman, viewed from the stand-point of a foreigner, our
Government may be said to be the feeblest on the earth. From our
stand-point, and with our experience, it is the mightiest. But why
would a foreigner call it the feeblest? He can point out a
half-dozen ways in which it can be destroyed without violence. Of
course, all governments may be overturned by the sword; but there
are several ways in which our Government may be annihilated without
the firing of a gun.
“For example, if the people of the United States should say we will
elect no Representatives to the House of Representatives. Of course,
this is a violent supposition; but suppose they do not, is there any
remedy? Does our Constitution provide any remedy whatever? In two
years there would be no House of Representatives; of course no
support of the Government, and no Government. Suppose, again, the
States should say, through their Legislatures, we will elect no
Senators. Such abstention alone would absolutely destroy this
Government; and our system provides no process of compulsion to
prevent it.
“Again, suppose the two Houses were assembled in their usual order,
and a majority of one, in this body or in the Senate should firmly
band themselves together and say, we will vote to adjourn the moment
the hour of meeting arrives, and continue so to vote at every
session during our two years of existence; the Government would
perish, and there is no provision of the Constitution to prevent it.
Or again, if a majority of one of either body should declare that
they would vote down, and did vote down, every bill to support the
Government by appropriations, can you find in the whole range of our
judicial or our executive authority any remedy whatever? A Senator,
or a member of this House is free, and may vote ‘no,’ on every
proposition. Nothing but his oath and his honor restrains him. Not
so with the executive and judicial officers. They have no power to
destroy this Government. Let them travel an inch beyond the line of
the law, and they fall within the power of impeachment. But, against
the people who create Representatives; against the Legislatures who
create Senators; against Senators and Representatives in these
Halls, there is no power of impeachment; there is no remedy, if, by
abstention or by adverse votes, they refuse to support the
Government.
“At a first view, it would seem strange that a body of men so wise
as our fathers were, should have left a whole side of their fabric
open to these deadly assaults; but on a closer view of the case
their wisdom will appear. What was their reliance? This: The
sovereign of this nation, the God-crowned and Heaven-anointed
sovereign, in whom resides ‘the State’s collected will,’ and to whom
we all owe allegiance, is the people themselves. Inspired by love of
country and by a deep sense of obligation to perform every public
duty; being themselves the creators of all the agencies and forces
to execute their own will, and choosing from themselves their
representatives to express that will in the forms of law, it would
have been like a suggestion of suicide to assume that any of these
voluntary powers would be turned against the life of the Government.
Public opinion—that great ocean of thought from whose level all
heights and depths are measured—was trusted as a power amply able,
and always willing, to guard all the approaches on that side of the
Constitution from any assault on the life of the nation.
“Up to this hour our sovereign has never failed us. There has never
been such a refusal to exercise those primary functions of
sovereignty as either to endanger or cripple the Government; nor
have the majority of the representatives of that sovereign in either
House of Congress ever before announced their purpose to use their
voluntary powers for its destruction. And now, for the first time in
our history, and I will add for the first time for at least two
centuries in the history of any English speaking nation, it is
proposed and insisted upon that these voluntary powers shall be used
for the destruction of the Government. I want it distinctly
understood that the proposition which I read at the beginning of my
remarks, and which is the programme announced to the American people
to-day, is this: that if the House can not have its own way in
certain matters, not connected with appropriations, it will so use,
or refrain from using, its voluntary powers as to destroy the
Government.
“Now, Mr. Chairman, it has been said on the other side that when a
demand for the redress of grievances is made, the authority that
runs the risk of stopping and destroying the Government, is the one
that resists the redress. Not so. If gentlemen will do me the honor
to follow my thought for a moment more, I trust I will make this
denial good.
FREE CONSENT THE BASIS OF OUR LAWS.
“Our theory of law is free consent. That is the granite foundation
of our whole superstructure. Nothing in this Republic can be law
without consent—the free consent of the House; the free consent of
the Senate; the free consent of the Executive, or, if he refuse it,
the free consent of two-thirds of these bodies. Will any man deny
that? Will any man challenge a line of the statement that free
consent is the foundation rock of all our institutions? And yet the
programme announced two weeks ago was that if the Senate refused to
consent to the demand of the House, the Government should stop. And
the proposition was then, and the programme is now, that, although
there is not a Senate to be coerced, there is still a third
independent branch in the legislative power of the Government whose
consent is to be coerced at the peril of the destruction of this
Government; that is, if the President, in the discharge of his duty,
shall exercise his plain constitutional right to refuse his consent
to this proposed legislation, the Congress will so use its voluntary
powers as to destroy the Government. This is the proposition which
we confront; and we denounce it as revolution.
“It makes no difference, Mr. Chairman, what the issue is. If it were
the simplest and most inoffensive proposition in the world, yet if
you demand, as a matter of coercion, that it shall be adopted
against the free consent prescribed in the Constitution, every
fair-minded man in America is bound to resist you as much as though
his own life depended upon his resistance.
“Let it be understood that I am not arguing the merits of any one of
the three amendments. I am discussing the proposed method of
legislation; and I declare that it is against the Constitution of
our country. It is revolutionary to the core, and is destructive of
the fundamental element of American liberty, the free consent of all
the powers that unite to make laws.
“In opening this debate, I challenge all comers to show a single
instance in our history where this consent has been coerced. This is
the great, the paramount issue, which dwarfs all others into
insignificance. Victor Hugo said, in his description of the battle
of Waterloo, that the struggle of the two armies was like the
wrestling of two giants, when a chip under the heel of one might
determine the victory. It may be that this amendment is the chip
under your heel, or it may be that it is the chip on our shoulder.
As a chip it is of small account to you or to us; but when it
represents the integrity of the Constitution and is assailed by
revolution, we fight for it as if it were a Koh-i-noor of purest
water. [Applause.]
“The proposition now is, that after fourteen years have passed, and
not one petition from one American citizen has come to us asking
that this law be repealed; while not one memorial has found its way
to our desks complaining of the law, so far as I have heard, the
Democratic House of Representatives now hold if they are not
permitted to force upon another House and upon the Executive against
their consent the repeal of a law that Democrats made, this refusal
shall be considered a sufficient ground for starving this Government
to death. That is the proposition which we denounce as revolution.
[Applause on the Republican side.]
“And here I ask the forbearance of gentlemen on the other side while
I offer a suggestion which I make with reluctance. They will bear me
witness that I have in many ways shown my desire that the wounds of
the war should be healed; that the grass that has grown green over
the graves of both armies might symbolize the returning spring of
friendship and peace between citizens who were lately in arms
against each other.
“But I am compelled by the necessities of the case to refer to a
chapter of our recent history. The last act of Democratic domination
in this Capitol, eighteen years ago, was striking and dramatic,
perhaps heroic. Then the Democratic party said to the Republicans,
‘If you elect the man of your choice as President of the United
States we will shoot your Government to death;’ and the people of
this country, refusing to be coerced by threats or violence, voted
as they pleased, and lawfully elected Abraham Lincoln President of
the United States.
“Then your leaders, though holding a majority in the other branch of
Congress, were heroic enough to withdraw from their seats and fling
down the gage of mortal battle. We called it rebellion; but we
recognized it as courageous and manly to avow your purpose, take all
the risks, and fight it out on the open field. Notwithstanding your
utmost efforts to destroy it, the Government was saved.
“To-day, after eighteen years’ defeat, the book of your domination
is again opened, and your first act awakens every bitter memory, and
threatens to destroy the confidence which your professions of
patriotism inspired. You turned down a leaf of the history that
recorded your last act of power in 1861, and you have now signalized
your return to power by beginning a second chapter at the same page;
not this time by a heroic act that declares war on the battle-field,
but you say if all the legislative powers of the Government do not
consent to let you tear certain laws out of the statute-book, you
will not shoot our Government to death as you tried to do in the
first chapter; but you declare that if we do not consent against our
will, if you can not coerce an independent branch of this Government
against its will, to allow you to tear from the statute-books some
laws put there by the will of the people, you will starve the
Government to death. [Great applause on the Republican side.]
“Between death on the field and death by starvation, I do not know
that the American people will see any great difference. The end, if
successfully reached, would be death in either case. Gentlemen, you
have it in your power to kill this Government; you have it in your
power by withholding these two bills, to smite the nerve-centers of
our Constitution with the paralysis of death; and you have declared
your purpose to do this, if you can not break down that fundamental
element of free consent which, up to this hour, has always ruled in
the legislation of this Government.”
The question stated at the beginning of this chapter is: Was Garfield a
Statesman? In view of what the reader has perused since that question
was put, it must at this point be restated—Was Garfield _not_ a
Statesman? The burden of proof has shifted. It is, of course, too soon
to form a complete estimate of Garfield’s stature. We are too near to
the man we loved. It will be for some future generation, farther removed
from the spell of his name, and more able calmly to contemplate his life
apart from the bloody death. This is the task for the historian of the
future.
But what we say enters into the contemporary estimate of the dead
President’s life and work. While the relative height of the mountain
peak can only be told by viewing it from a long distance, where the
entire range pictures its upper outline on the eye, the people who dwell
at the foot of the mountain know it as the highest of their
neighborhood. Moreover, some of the strongest objections to the
contemporary estimates of a public man are entirely wanting in the
present case. One of these is the popularity of his opinions or
achievements. Men are apt to overestimate the abilities of a man who
agrees with them. But time and again, on different questions, as in the
currency and the enforcement act, the Wade-Davis manifesto, and the
defense of Bowles and Milligan, we have seen General Garfield, not
merely opposing, but openly defying the opinions of the people who
elected him. When he thought a thing was true, no personal consideration
could affect his public utterance. Such a spectacle is rare indeed in
American politics.
Another reason why the present contemporary estimate of Garfield is more
likely than usual to pass into history is that, in a sense, the
vindication of his policy is already accomplished. When Cromwell died
his work was incomplete. It was only one act in the great drama of the
struggle against kings. The result was unknown at the time. Other fields
were to run red with patriot blood, other monarchs to expire on the
scaffold, before the solution of the deadly struggle should appear. It
was uncertain whether any other government than monarchy was possible.
No man was wise enough to tell, at Cromwell’s death, whether he had
advanced or retarded civilization and progress. But this is a more rapid
age. Events hurry on quickly. The questions growing out of the Civil War
are very largely settled already. The historic genius which sits in
judgment upon men and institutions is no longer in doubt as to those
questions. Similarly, too, the stupendous problem of national finance,
to which Garfield devoted such herculean labor, has reached its
solution. It may be that all men are not willing to surrender yet, but
beyond a doubt the return to a specie basis, and the wonderful
improvement of the times following it, are a vindication of General
Garfield’s statesmanship. It is the same with his position on the Force
Bill and the Tariff. Some things, however, are still incomplete. The
railway problem and the perpetuity of American institutions the future
alone can pass upon; but these are the exceptions. The completeness of
Mr. Lincoln’s work at the time of his assassination was not generally
recognized, but we see it now. So with Garfield’s labors. They were in a
sense complete. We may pass judgment upon them. The vindication of
history is already at hand.
There is still another reason why the contemporary estimate of James A.
Garfield is likely to become permanent. It is because the field of his
principal achievements was not one of popular interest. It was not one
which takes hold of the people’s hearts, and sweeps the popular judgment
from its moorings. It lacked the glamour of military fame. The present
age will hand down to posterity the fame of mighty soldiers, but their
glory must be viewed with some reserve, some mistrust for the present.
Julius Cæsar, who was assassinated as a tyrant, now takes his place at
the head of all secular history. Napoleon Bonaparte, the mention of
whose name has, for three quarters of a century, been enough to convulse
Paris and fill every wall with placards and every street with
barricades, is likely to become the most odious figure of modern times.
Garfield’s chosen field of work, that where his fame must rest, was to
the careless masses dull. Men grow excited over battles, but not a pulse
beats higher over a computation of interest on the public debt. The
stories of marches and sieges thrill the reader a thousand years after
every combatant has been vanquished by the black battalions of Death.
But the most eloquent orator in America finds it difficult to hold an
audience with the discussion of the tariff list or of public
expenditures or of the currency, even when every man in the audience
knows that his pocket is touched. If such discussions are thrown into
newspaper editorials they are but little read. No argument, however
powerful, on the fallacy of fiat money ever drew a tear or roused a
cheer. No table of the reduction of public expenditure is ever greeted
with huzzas. When the news of a victory comes, every corner has a
bonfire and every window an illumination. But the change of the balance
of trade in our favor only awakens a quiet satisfaction in the
merchant’s heart as he glances through the morning papers. A new kind of
gun attracts world-wide attention; it is talked over at every
breakfast-table and described in every paper, but a new theory of
surplus and deficits in the public treasury is utterly unnoticed. We see
no flushed assemblies straining to catch every word that falls from the
orator’s lips as he discusses the tariff on sugar or quinine. But when
Kearney shouts his hoarse note of defiance to capital, the street is
packed with listening thousands.
Hence it is that the man who significantly whispers “Garfield is
overestimated” is more likely to be wrong than right. There is no tide
of popular excitement over his work. The calm conviction of his
abilities is a different thing from the feverish hurrahs of a campaign.
In 1859 his old neighbors in his county had this conviction when they
sent him to the State Senate. From the county, this spread to his
Congressional district; from the district to the State of Ohio; from
Ohio to the Union. It was gradual, and sure.
Garfield’s speeches must be the foundation for his fame. To these
history will turn as a basis for its estimate. The first thing which is
to be said of them, is that they dealt _with the real problems of the
epoch_. That he was a great orator is true; that he was much more than
this is equally true. While other men busied themselves with political
topics Garfield took hold of the great non-political problems of the
time. He refused to view them from a partisan or a personal stand-point.
He grappled with the leviathans of reconstruction, tariff, and currency
in the spirit of the statesman. That he was always right, we are not
prepared to say; that he was right in his views on the great questions
above mentioned, that with regard to them he was a leader of leaders,
seems hardly to admit of a doubt. He was so radical in opinion that on
almost every question he was ahead of his party and the country. This
was the case in his arguments on the status of the rebel States, and
what ought to be done with them; in his arguments in favor of a
reduction of the tariff as prices declined after the war, and in his
discussion of the currency and banking problems. Yet so nearly right was
he that in every one of these instances Congress and the country
gradually moved up to and occupied the position which he had taken in
advance of them.
On the other hand, he was so conservative in practice that on no
question was he ever an extremist. While he was a strong believer in the
nationality of the Republic, and its powers of self-preservation, he
faced the entire North in his opposition to the provisions of the “Force
Bill,” for the suspension of the writ of _habeas corpus_ and the
declaration of martial law in a country bleeding at every wound from
war, but in a state of peace. Let no reader omit his speech of April 4,
1871. We say it the more willingly because at the time we thought
Garfield was wrong. While he was a protectionist, he believed in a
tariff which avoided both extremes. While he was an original and
unintermittent hard-money man, he believed in the necessity of an
elastic volume of currency. As the end of resumption forbade inflation,
he demanded that every part of the country should have its share of
banks, and the drafts and checks which they threw into the circulation.
Of the variety as well as the quantity of his work, men will not soon
cease to wonder. There were few who could equal him in the discussion of
any one of the great topics of the day, much less all of them. His name
and fame can never be identified with any single question or measure,
for he displayed the same ability on every subject alike.
In other respects he also differed from the men around him. He was a
scholar in the broadest sense. His speeches are absolutely unequaled
anywhere for their scientific method. In their philosophical discussions
they were the product of the ripest scholarship; in their practical
suggestions and arguments, they were, they are the product of the
highest statesmanship.
Finally, a man of more spotless honor and loftier integrity never trod
the earth than James A. Garfield. He lived in an atmosphere of purity
and unselfishness, which, to the average man, is an unknown realm. After
all, there are men enough with intellect in politics, but too few with
character. An estimate of Garfield would be incomplete which failed to
include the inflexible honesty of the great orator and legislator,
whether in affairs public or private. History shows that while no
institutions ever decayed because of the intellectual weakness of the
people among which they flourished, empire after empire has perished
from the face of the earth through the decay of morals in its people and
its public men. History repeats itself. What has been, will be. Name
after name of the great men of the new Republic is stained with private
immorality and public crime. The noblest part of Garfield, with all his
genius, was his spotless character. There was, there is, no greater,
purer, manlier man.
“His tongue was framed to music,
His hand was armed with skill,
His face was the mold of beauty,
And his heart the throne of will.”
CHAPTER X.
THE CLIMAX OF 1880.
The Clans are met in the prairied West,
And the battle is on, is on again,
The struggle of great and little men,
To make one victor above the rest.
The fathers of the Republic had no suspicion of the form which American
politics has assumed. The thing which we know as a political party is
new under the sun. No other country or age ever had any thing like what
America understands by the word party. When we speak of a party, we do
not have in mind a mere sect, or class, distinguished by peculiar
opinions, and composed of individuals whose only bond of union is their
harmony of opinion, passion, or prejudice. We do not mean a caste, nor a
peculiar section of American society, nor a portion of the masses, whose
birth, condition, and surroundings predestine them to take a traditional
sort of a view of political affairs, which they hold in common with
their parents and their fellows. This was what Rome, in the days of her
Republic, understood by the name of party. Patrician and plebeian stood
not merely for opinion, but for more—for birth, heritage, and station.
When there was an election, it was a rout, a rabble, without
organization, work, or object. Rich and poor were arrayed against each
other; the public offices were the glittering prize. But they were
captured more by seditions, revolts, _coups d’état_, than by the
insinuating arts of the wire-puller. The same thing is largely true of
England and France, although less so lately than formerly.
But in America by a political party, we mean an organism, of which the
life is, in the beginning at least, an opinion or set of opinions. We
mean an institution as perfectly organized as the government itself; and
taking hold of the people much more intimately. We mean an organization
so powerful that the government is in its hands but a toy; so despotic
that it has but one penalty for treason—political death; so much
beloved, that while a few men in a few widely separated generations make
glorious and awful sacrifices for their country, nearly all the men of
every generation lend themselves, heart and soul, to the cause of party.
A political party raises, once in four years, drilled armies, more
numerous than any war ever called forth. If the battalions wear no
uniform but red shirt and cap, and carry no more deadly weapon than the
flaming torch, they are, nevertheless, as numerous, as well drilled, and
as powerful as the glistening ranks of Gettysburg or Chickamauga. They,
too, fight for the government—or against it. A political party has its
official chief, its national legislature or “committee,” its state,
county, township, ward, and precinct organizations. It is stupendous.
The local organization has in its secret rooms lists containing the name
of every voter, with an analysis of his political views; if they are
wavering, a few significant remarks on how he can be “reached.” The
county and state organizations have their treasuries, their system of
taxation and revenue, their fields of expenditure, and their cries of
robbery, reform, and retrenchment. In the secret committee rooms are
laid deep and sagacious plans for carrying the election. In some States,
the old, crude ways of sedition, driving away of voters, and stuffing
the poll are still followed; but in most of the States prevail arts and
methods so mysterious, so secret, that none but the expert politician
knows what they are.
A political party has other than financial resources. It owns
newspapers—manufacturers of public sentiment. It makes the men that make
it. It controls offices, and places of trust and profit. It has all the
powers of centralization. One man in a State is at the head of the
organism. He is an autocrat, a czar, a sultan. At the crack of his
finger the political head of his grand vizier falls under the headsman’s
ax. The party has in its service the most plausible writers, the most
eloquent orators, the most ingenious statisticians, and the most graphic
artists. In its service are all the brilliant and historic names and
reputations. Military glory, statesmanship, diplomacy, are alike
appropriated to itself. Wealth, genius, love, and beauty, alike lay
their treasures at its feet.
A party as well as the nation has its laws. Its delegates and
committeemen are as certain to be elected, and those elections are
required to occur at times and places as definitely settled by party
rule as those for Congressmen or President.
The thing which we have been describing did not begin with the Republic.
It is substantially a growth of the last fifty years. Its beginning was
marked by the rise of the _convention_, its most public and prominent
feature. Formerly, congressional and legislative caucuses nominated the
candidates for office. But about 1831 a change began to come about. When
the first severe cold of winter begins, every floating straw or particle
of dust on the surface of a pond becomes the center of a crystallization
around itself. The distances between the nearer and smaller, then the
more isolated and larger, centers, are gradually bridged until the icy
floor is built. So in the rise of party organism in the Republic. The
local organizations, the town clubs, the township conventions for the
nomination of trustee and road master, became the initial centers of a
process of crystallization which was to go on until the icy floor of
party organization and platforms covered the thousand little waves and
ripples of individual opinions from shore to shore.
The delegate and the convention, the permanent committee and the caucus,
became the methods by which the organization grew. Stronger and stronger
have they grown, twining themselves like monster vines around the
central trunk of the Republic. Every Presidential election has doubled
the power, unity, centralization and resources of the monsters. The
surplus genius and energy of the American people for organizing, being
unexhausted and unsatisfied by the simple forms of the Republic, has
spent itself in the political party.
With the rise of the party as an independent, self-sustaining organism,
which, like the government, derives its powers from the consent of the
people, two facts have become more and more prominent: first, the
struggle for the delegateships to the conventions; second, the struggle
to control delegates by instructions after they were elected. While
these are both called struggles, the word has a widely different meaning
in the two places. In the first it stands for the contest between
candidates. Not only did the party become a nationalized organism for a
campaign against the enemy, but the candidacies within the party for its
nomination for a national office also became nationalized. But, in the
second place, the word struggle stands for a contest, not between men,
but between principles. In every phase of this long conflict the
underlying struggle was between two opposite tendencies. The one was
toward stronger and stronger party organization, greater centralization,
increased powers of the caucus, the absolute tyranny of the majority, in
short, the subordination of the _individual_ to the _machine_, in the
name of party discipline. The other tendency was toward less
organization, less centralization, less binding powers for the caucus on
its members, the representation of minorities, the subordination of the
_machine_ to the _individual_.
The struggle between these tendencies, of which the unit rule or the
control of the vote of solid delegations, by instructions or by the
voice of the majority of the delegation, was but a single aspect,
reached its highest point so far, in the Republican National Convention
which assembled in Chicago, June 2d, 1880. As will be seen, the contests
of that convention must make it absolutely unique. The tremendous tide
toward organization received a strong check. The events of that
convention are far more significant of the political life-tendencies of
the American people than the election of the following November.
All other ages and countries have distrusted the people, have
concentrated power in the hands of the few, and perpetuated it by the
rigid forms of despotic government. In America that tendency was
defeated. But the same instincts are still present in the hearts of men.
It is not impossible that in the struggles toward organization,
discipline, party centralization and the machine aspect of politics, we
see the same devilish forces of the past at work in a new field. It is
not impossible that in party “bosses,” and the tyranny of the machine,
we are really looking in the face of the ancient foe of mankind, whose
sole aim was to concentrate and perpetuate power in the hands of the
few.
When, after General Grant returned from his trip around the world, he
consented to become a candidate for the Presidency, he had a perfect
right to do so. It was the privilege of his countrymen to bring forward
and support for that position the great Captain of the nineteenth
century. The three men who were instrumental in bringing about his
candidacy, and who managed the campaign for him, were Roscoe Conkling,
of New York; Don Cameron, of Pennsylvania, Chairman of the Republican
National Committee; and John A. Logan, of Illinois. The history of the
canvass for the nomination of General Grant shows an ability so
remarkable that his defeat must still be a matter of wonder. The New
York member of the triumvirate caused a resolution to be passed in his
State convention instructing the delegates to vote solidly for Grant.
Cameron achieved the same thing in Pennsylvania. In Illinois, Logan,
fearing or foreseeing that instructions were a feeble reliance,
attempted the more heroic method of electing a solid Grant delegation by
a majority of votes in the State convention. The minority, to protect
itself, held meetings by congressional districts and selected contesting
delegates. Over the right to instruct and the right to elect solid
delegations the battle was fought. It was unquestioned that with three
solid delegations from the three most populous States in the Union, and
his other strong support, Grant’s nomination was overwhelmingly assured.
The country, in the few days preceding the convention was wrought up to
a pitch of feverish excitement.
The three principal candidates for the Presidency, whose names were
openly before the convention, were: Ulysses S. Grant, of Illinois; James
G. Blaine, of Maine; and John Sherman, of Ohio.
General Grant is the best known living American. His wonderful career is
familiar throughout the civilized world. Rising from the trade of a
tanner in an Illinois village, he became the commander of the armies of
the Republic, the greatest soldier of the age, President of the United
States for two terms, and the most distinguished citizen of the Union.
The foundation of his fame is his military achievements. Taciturn,
self-poised, alike unmoved by victory or defeat, grim, immovable, bent
only on achieving the thing which lay before him, of deadly earnestness,
equal to every emergency, Grant must be admitted to be a man of solitary
and sublime genius. For practical resources, the age has not produced
his equal.
Grant’s candidacy at Chicago, which seemed so singular to many, was
really the result of underlying forces, greater than any of the men who
were borne onward by the tide. First, was the fact of his personal
candidacy.
On one side was the Republican party closing its quarter of a century—a
Long Parliament of counsels, deeds, and changes; and, on the other, the
tried Cromwell of the Commonwealth, backed by his victories, and asking
the party to recognize him again. The party seemed almost destined to
make the choice. In asking again for the Presidency, it was natural that
he should look toward organization, discipline, and studied strategy as
the instrumentalities of his canvass. His career as a soldier, his
mental constitution, and his political training and experience during
the arbitrary and tempestuous times of the civil war and the epoch of
reconstruction, his military habit of relying on his subordinate
generals, all were antecedents of the memorable struggle at Chicago, and
helped to give it its character.
But if Grant, in his personal canvass, naturally reached for the party
organization to make up his line of battle, the underlying tendency
toward organization in politics, of which we have spoken heretofore,
seeking for its strongest personal representative, inevitably selected
Grant. On the one side was his individual will turning toward the
Machine. On the other was the far more powerful but impersonal force, in
its struggle to grasp and subordinate American politics, embodying
itself in its chosen representative. It will be remembered that in
popular opinion Grant became a candidate as much at the request of his
friends as from any personal wish. The distinguished gentlemen who thus
urged him were animated not merely by personal affection and preference,
but by the invincible tendency toward organization, structure, and
machinery in politics. In the organism the man found his support; in the
man, the organic force found its strongest representative.
But what of the opposite tendency, the counter-current, which set
against organization, party discipline, unit rules, the tyranny of
majorities, and toward the freedom of individual action? Who was its
representative? Was it ready to do battle with its gigantic foe? The
Chicago Convention must be viewed not as a personal struggle between
rival candidates, but as the meeting of two mighty waves in the ocean of
American politics, the shock of whose collision was to be felt on the
farthest shores. Amid the foam which rose along the line of breaking
crests, mere men were for the moment almost lost from view.
In the nature of the case the counter tendency could not embody itself
beforehand in a representative. To be sure there was Blaine, the dashing
parliamentary leader, the magnetic politician, the brilliant debater.
Generous and brave of heart, superb in his attitude before the maligners
of his spotless fame, personally beloved by his supporters beyond any
man of his political generation, he was too independent to represent the
organism, and too much of a candidate, and had too much machinery, too
many of the politician’s arts, to fully meet the requirements of the
counter tendency in the great crisis. Although Blaine was beyond
question running on his personal merits, yet the fact that he was a
leading candidate, but without a majority, destined him to fall a prey
to his competitors. In the great political arena, when one gladiator is
about to triumph over his divided rivals, the latter unite against him,
that all may die together, and by giving to an unknown the palm of
victory save themselves from the humiliation of a rival’s triumph.
John Sherman, the very opposite of Blaine, cold, cautious, solid,
hostile to display, was also a candidate upon personal merits, and was
also to fail from the same cause.
It can not be said that there was any other candidate before the
convention. Windom, Edmunds, and Washburne, had each a small personal
following, but neither sought the nomination, and all were only possible
“dark horses.”
On the floor of the convention, Grant was to be represented by the
triumvirate of United States Senators, Conkling, Cameron, and Logan. Of
these, Cameron, though a superb manipulator, a splendid manager, and a
man full of adroitness and resources, was a silent man. His voice was
not lifted in debate. His work was in the secret room, planning, and not
amid the clash of arms in the open field. Logan, tall and powerful, of
coppery complexion, and long, straight, black hair, which told plainly
of the Indian blood, was a somewhat miscellaneous but rather powerful
debater. His tremendous voice was well fitted for large audiences. That
he was a man of great force is shown by his career. While his two
colleagues were descended from high-born ancestry,—Cameron’s father
having been the son’s predecessor in the United States Senate,—Logan
sprang from below.
The leader of the trio, and with one exception the most distinguished
person in the convention, was Roscoe Conkling. Tall, perfectly formed,
graceful in every movement, with the figure of an athlete, and the head
of a statesman, surmounted with a crown of snow-white hair, he was a
conspicuous figure in the most brilliant assemblage of the great which
could convene on any continent. In speaking, his flute-like tones,
modulated by the highest elocutionary art, his intensely dramatic
manner, his graceful but studied gesticulation, united to call attention
to the speaker as much as to the speech. He was dressed in faultless
style, from the tightly-buttoned blue frock coat—the very _ne plus
ultra_ of the tailor’s art,—to the exquisite fancy necktie. If it were
not for his intellect he would have been called a dandy. In his walk
there was a perceptible strut. But the matter of Conkling’s speeches is
the best revelation of his character. Every sentence was barbed with
irony; every expression touched with scorn. He was the very incarnation
of pride. Haughty, reserved, imperious in manner, at every thrust he cut
to the quick. His mastery of the subject in hand was always apparently
perfect, and not less perfectly apparent. He was called “Lord Roscoe,”
“The Superb,” “The Duke,” and other names indicative of his aristocratic
bearing. Never for a moment did he cease to carry himself as if he were
on the stage. It is said that great actors become so identified with the
characters they impersonate, that even in private life they retain the
character which they have assumed on the stage. Thus Booth is said to
order his fried eggs with the air of a Hamlet. So Conkling never for a
moment laid aside the air of high tragedy.
Nevertheless the commanding genius of the man was unquestioned. He was
the chief representative in the Chicago Convention of the tendency to
more organism, stronger party discipline, a more perfect machine. The
problem to which he applied all his abilities, was to strengthen the
party structure; and to that end, practically place the power of both
his party and his country in the hands of a few. A national party, with
the consciences of its individual members in the hands of a few astute
politicians, could control the Government forever. But the end is
vicious, and the means an abomination to governments of the people, for
the people, and by the people.
The companion figure to that of Roscoe Conkling, of New York, was James
A. Garfield, of Ohio. He was there as the chief supporter of John
Sherman. The contrast between Conkling and Garfield was of the strongest
possible kind. In person, Garfield was a taller man than Conkling, but
his size and solidity of build made him look shorter. His figure, though
less trim, had an air of comfortable friendliness and cheer about it.
He, too, had a massive head, but it rested more easily above the broad
shoulders. His face lacked the lines of scorn traced on the other, and
made a true picture of a benevolent good nature, a generous, kindly
heart, and a great and wise intellect. He wore a plain sack coat, and
his attire generally though neat, was of an unstudied sort. He had a
habit of sitting with his leg swinging over the arm of the chair, and
his manners were those of a big, jolly, overgrown boy. In speaking he
had a deep, rich voice, with a kindly accent, in marked contrast with
the biting tones of the great New York Senator. He was never sarcastic,
though often grave. His speeches were conservative but earnest.
Socially, his manners were utterly devoid of restraint; he was
accessible to every body, and appeared to be on good terms with himself.
The dramatic element was completely absent. He believed in Sherman
heartily, though he was evidently a stranger to the mysterious arts of
the wire-puller and politician. For himself, he was well satisfied
looking forward to the seat in the United States Senate, which he was to
enter the next December, with joy and gratification.
These were the two chief figures of the Chicago Convention. Each was
there as the chief supporter of another. The one was the conscious
personification and representative of a tendency which, for fifty years,
had been setting more and more strongly toward party organism and
permanent structure, having for its aim a perfect power-getting and
power-keeping machine. The other was the unconscious personification and
representative of the opposite tendency, the current which set toward a
flexible rather than rigid party organization, toward new political
ideas, and the independence of individual thought. The one was a
patrician, the other the child of the people.
When the Chicago Convention met, it was the nature of the organic
tendency to have its candidate selected. On the other hand, it was
equally the nature of the opposite tendency to have no candidate. But
each force was present in the convention working in the hearts and minds
of its members. Day after day, the angry white caps rose along the line
where the two waves met. As the crisis approached the movement of
resistance to the strengthening and increase of party organism, with
that instinct which belongs to every subtle underlying tendency in human
society, began to look and to feel its way toward a personal
representative. Having found the man, the spirit would enter into him
and possess him.
Thus it was that when the supreme moment came, personal candidates and
preferences, pledges and plans, leaders and followers were suddenly lost
from view. The force, which was greater than individuals, rose up,
embodied itself in the person of a protesting and awe-stricken man
within whose heart may have been some presentiment of the tragic future,
and, subordinating all to itself, relentlessly demanding and receiving
the sacrifice alike of candidates and of the supporter, defeating for
the time being, not so much the silent soldier from Galena, as the
political tendency which made him its representative.
Notwithstanding the nomination of Garfield, as the remaining chapters of
this story will show, the spirit of party organism was not killed but
stunned. Cast out from the most famous citizen of the Republic, it was
to enter into a swine. History will say of Guiteau, that he embodied and
represented a force stronger than himself.
Let us turn now from the internal philosophy to the external facts of
the Chicago Convention.
Chicago is a roomy place and well-suited for the meeting of a large
assembly, but its resources were taxed by the Convention of 1880. By
Monday preceding the Convention, its hotels were crowded, and thousands
upon thousands were pouring in every hour. It was a great gathering of
rival clans, which did not wait the order of their generals to advance,
but charged upon each other the moment they came upon the field.
There were two battles in progress—the one of the masses, the other of
the leaders.
On Monday evening two public meetings of the “Grant” and “anti-Grant”
elements, respectively, were held in Dearborn Park and in the Base Ball
Park.
The speakers announced for the Grant meeting were Senators Conkling,
Logan, Carpenter, Stewart L. Woodford of New York, Leonard Swett, Emory
Storrs, Robert T. Lincoln, and Stephen A. Douglas. But the advertised
speakers did not all appear; neither Conkling nor Carpenter spoke. They
were too busy plotting elsewhere. In fact, this Grant meeting was, so
far as any demonstration in favor of the third term was concerned, an
acknowledged failure. The speakers, however, managed to throw some
spirit into the affair, and aroused some enthusiasm.
But the anti-Grant meeting, as was quite evident, felt and fared better.
Though it had been but meagerly advertised, and but few speakers of
prominence had been announced, the grounds were densely crowded. At
least ten thousand persons were in attendance.
The tone of the meeting was unmistakable. The most radical utterances
were the most loudly cheered. The people declared that “they would not
submit to boss rule; that they would not have a third term; that they
would defeat the villainous attempt to deprive them of their liberties.”
People came there determined to be pleased—with every thing or any thing
but Grant. But they hissed the third term. They shouted themselves
hoarse for Blaine, Washburne, and Edmunds.
Speakers from New York, Pennsylvania, Indiana, and New Hampshire,
declared that those States would be lost to the Republican party by a
third-term campaign. Meanwhile, notwithstanding the vast crowds
attending the two meetings, the corridors of the hotels and streets were
thronged. The utmost interest was manifested, and every report of the
work of the managers of the candidates, whether reasonable or
unreasonable, was seized and discussed in its bearing upon the
candidates. The greatest interest centered about the Palmer House, where
a secret meeting of the National Committee was being held.
And what of this secret meeting? The National Committee contained a
majority of anti-Grant men. At its very beginning, William E. Chandler,
of New Hampshire, took the floor and offered the following resolutions:
“_Resolved_, That the committee approves and ratifies the call for
the approaching Republican National Convention, which was issued by
its chairman and secretary, and which invites ‘two delegates from
each Congressional district, four delegates at large from each
State, two from each Territory, and two from the District of
Columbia,’ to compose the convention.
“_Resolved_, That this committee recognizes the right of each
delegate in a Republican National Convention freely to cast and have
counted his individual vote therein, according to his own
sentiments, if he so decides, against any ‘unit rule’ or other
instructions passed by a State convention, which right was conceded
without dissent, and was exercised in the conventions of 1860 and
1868, and was, after a full debate, affirmed by the convention of
1876, and has thus become a part of the law of Republican
conventions; and until reversed by a convention itself must remain a
governing principle.”
The first of these passed unanimously. But not so the second. The “unit
rule” was not to die without a struggle. Chairman Cameron promptly
declared this resolution out of order.
Then Mr. Chaffee, of Colorado, offered a resolution approving of the
decision of the Cincinnati Convention, declaring that each delegate
should be allowed to vote on all subjects before the convention. Mr.
Gorham, of California, inquired of Mr. Cameron if he intended to
entertain these resolutions. Mr. Cameron announced that he would not.
This caused great excitement, and Mr. Chaffee appealed from this
decision. The next decision of Mr. Cameron caused still greater
commotion, this being to the effect that there could be no appeal, as
there was no question before the committee. At this Mr. Chaffee renewed
his appeal, saying that if the committee submitted to such tyranny it
might as well have a king. This was roundly applauded. Mr. Cameron again
repeated that there could be no appeal, and he would put none.
Mr. Chandler thereupon, in a vigorous speech, demurred to such ruling,
and wound up by also appealing from the decision of the chair. To
further aggravate matters, Cameron again refused to entertain the
appeal. This brought Frye, of Maine, to his feet, and in a caustic
speech he told the chairman that the committee had rights which he (the
chairman) was bound to respect.
Mr. Chandler significantly remarked that if the chairman would not pay
any respect to the committee, the same power that made him chairman
would remove him.
Mr. Forbes, of Massachusetts, then offered a resolution appointing a
committee of six to select and present to the committee a candidate to
preside at the temporary organization. This was adopted. A recess was
then taken till half-past ten o’clock.
It now became certain that the anti-Grant men were ready to depose
Cameron at once if they could not control him in any other way.
The committee to select the name of a temporary chairman returned after
a recess of fifteen minutes, and reported in favor of Senator George F.
Hoar, of Massachusetts. Senator Jones announced that the minority
reserved the right to name a candidate in the convention. After some
minor matters, Mr. Frye offered one of the resolutions of the caucus,
providing, in the case of the absence of the chairman of the committee
from sickness or from any cause, that the chairman of the committee of
six (Mr. Chandler) should be authorized to call the convention to order,
and perform all the duties pertaining to the temporary organization.
Mr. McCormick followed with a second resolution of the caucus, directing
that in all questions pertaining to the temporary organization the
chairman shall rule that every delegate was at liberty to vote as he
chooses, regardless of instructions. Messrs. Gorham, Filley, and others,
made great opposition, and Mr. Cameron ruled that this resolution would
not be entertained, since it was not in the power of the committee to
instruct the chairman as to his rulings.
A warm debate followed as to the rights and powers of the committee.
Finally, the meeting attended to some routine business, and adjourned
till next day noon.
The battle now grew hotter every hour. Mr. Conkling’s delegation broke
in two, and issued the following protest:
“CHICAGO, May 31, 1880.
“The undersigned, delegates to the Republican National Convention,
representing our several Congressional districts in the State of New
York, desiring _above all_ the success of the Republican party at
the approaching election, and realizing the hazard attending an
injudicious nomination, _declare our purpose to resist the
nomination of General U. S. Grant by all honorable means_. We are
sincere in the conviction that in New York, at least, his nomination
would _insure defeat_. We have a great battle to fight, and victory
is within our reach, but we earnestly protest against entering the
contest with a nomination which we regard as unwise and perilous.
“William H. Robertson, 12th Dist.; William B. Woodin, 26th Dist.;
Norman M. Allen and Loren B. Sessions, 33d Dist.; Moses D. Stivers
and Blake G. Wales, 14th Dist.; Webster Wagner and George West, 20th
Dist.; Albert Daggett, 3d Dist.; Simeon S. Hawkins and John
Birdsall, 1st Dist.; John P. Douglass and Sidney Sylvester, 22d
Dist.; John B. Dutcher, 13th Dist.; Henry R. James and Wells S.
Dickinson, 19th Dist.; James W. Husted, 12th Dist.; Ferris Jacobs,
Jr., 21st Dist.; Oliver Abell, Jr., 18th Dist.”
A similar protest was published by twenty-two Pennsylvania delegates,
headed by Mr. James McManes.
At nine o’clock on the morning of June 1st, an anti-Grant caucus was
held, which determined to defeat the “unit rule” at all hazards, even if
Mr. Cameron must first be deposed from the chairmanship.
The news of the firm attitude of the caucus had reached Cameron, Gorham,
Filley, Arthur, and their associates, and before any movement could be
made, the Grant men announced that they had a proposition to make,
looking to harmonizing all differences. A recess was taken to allow a
committee on the part of Cameron, Conkling, Arthur, and Logan, to state
the agreement which they were willing to make. It proved to be as
follows:
“That Senator Hoar should be accepted as temporary chairman of the
convention, and that no attempt should be made to enforce the unit
rule, or have a test vote in the convention, until the committee on
credentials had reported, when the unit-rule question should be
decided by the convention in its own way.”
This proposition was finally, in the interest of harmony, agreed to by
all parties.
On Wednesday, June 2d, after days and nights of caucusing, serenading,
speech-making, and cheering by every body, and for nearly every body,
the great convention held its first session. As a clever correspondent
wrote at the time:
“A more beautiful day in June probably never rose upon a
Presidential Convention. The sun, the shade, the trees, the lake,
the high façades of business buildings and palace hotels; the air
cool, yet temperate; the well-dressed, energetic people, and the
signs of prosperous business, uninfluenced even by such a
convention, sent a hopeful, cheery feeling to the heart. The rageful
features of the past day or two went into their tents at such
sunshine and calm godliness of sky.”
The place of meeting was in the Exposition Building, in the south half
of which vast structure there is a hall 400 feet long by 150 feet wide,
with galleries all round, and so arranged that room for about ten
thousand people could be provided.
[Illustration: THE EXPOSITION BUILDING, WHERE GARFIELD WAS NOMINATED.]
At eleven o’clock the band stationed on the north gallery began playing
national airs, but nearly an hour passed before the delegates took their
seats. The Chairman called on the Secretary to read the call, and
Secretary Keogh proceeded, in a clear voice, to read the document.
Mr. Cameron then arose, and, in a short address, nominated, as temporary
chairman, the Hon. George F. Hoar, of Massachusetts, who was elected by
a unanimous vote. Mr. Hoar was then conducted to the chair; and the
preliminary organization was thus peacefully resigned by the
disappointed Grant faction, which had expected to control all.
On motion of Eugene Hale, of Maine, the roll of States and Territories
was called, and the committees made up. There were four: (1) Permanent
Organization; (2) Rules; (3) Credentials; and (4) Resolutions.
After a slight stir over Utah, and a sharp encounter between Conkling
and Frye, the opening business was completed, and the convention
adjourned for that day.
A newspaper dispatch sent out of the room during this session said:
“There is a good deal of talk about Garfield. Some significance is
attached to the fact that when the name was mentioned in the
convention to-day as a member of the Committee on Rules it was
loudly applauded.”
And another added:
“A prolonged contest is now certain on the floor of the convention
to-day over the reports from the committees on Credentials, Rules,
and Resolutions. Senator Conkling is recognized as the leader of
debate on the Grant side. Frye and Hale will be the principal
speakers, with Garfield and Conger on the part of the majority. The
debates preceding the balloting promise to be the most heated and
the ablest ever heard in a Republican Convention.”
That night the popular battle in the streets and lobbies continued,
attended with ever-growing excitement. Grant men and Blaine men loudly
proclaimed their confidence in a victory for their respective favorites,
on the first or second ballot. Each of these two leaders claimed about
three hundred reliable votes; but, in fact, they had not six hundred
between them.
Sherman, Edmunds, Washburne, and Windom men felt sure that neither
Blaine nor Grant could be nominated on account of the violent opposition
of their factions. This gave hope to each of these smaller sections, and
made “dark-horse” talk plausible.
At eleven o’clock of June 3d, the second day’s fight of the convention
began. As the delegations took their places, the great crowd of
spectators occupied themselves in getting acquainted with the men who
were to give and receive the hard blows to be dealt by both sides when
the contest opened. All these men—Conkling, Garfield, Frye, Hale, and
Logan—were cordially received, though there were degrees in the favor.
The most spontaneous of the greetings given any one of the leaders was
to Garfield. One of the ovations to him gave rise to a ludicrous affair
for Conkling. The latter had made his usual late and pompous entrance,
had been received with much noise, and walked slowly up to his seat near
the front. Just as he rose to show himself further and address the
chair, General Garfield came in at the rear. A tremendous and rapidly
spreading cheer broke out, which the New York “Duke” mistook for his own
property.
The second day was now passing, and the preliminaries were not yet
complete. It was the policy of the Grant men to make delay, and wear out
the strength of all opponents. They had come, as Cameron said, “to stick
until we win.” The Blaine leaders, on the other hand, had no such
reliable, lasting force. They must dash in boldly and carry off their
prize at once, or be forever defeated.
To-day the Blaine men came in jubilant, for they had beaten the Grant
faction in the committees. Conkling opened the proceedings from the
floor at the earliest moment. He moved to adjourn until evening to await
the report of the Committee on Credentials. Hale opposed this. Conkling,
in his haste, forgetting his parliamentary knowledge, claimed that his
motion to take a recess was not debatable. The Chairman overruled this,
much to the annoyance of Conkling. He soon poured out a little vial of
wrath on Hale, and sneered at him as his “amiable friend.” To this Hale
retorted that he had not spent his time in cultivating sarcastic and
sneering methods in argument; and if the Senator from New York was less
amiable than others this morning the convention understood the reason
well. At this reference to the general defeat of the Grant forces in the
committees during the last evening the people laughed loudly at
Conkling, and that august gentleman himself deigned to smile.
Soon the Committee on Permanent Organization reported, the temporary
chairman and other officers were continued, and Mr. Hoar took permanent
possession of his Chairmanship. Thereupon Mr. Frye moved that the
Committee on Rules and Order of Business report at once. Mr. Sharpe, of
New York, now arose and said that he had been instructed by the
delegates of nine States to prepare a minority report of the Committee
on Rules; that he had not had time to do so, and this ought not to be
taken advantage of, because, by agreement in the committee, he should
have had a longer time to prepare.
Mr. Frye then said that if the chairman of that committee—Mr.
Garfield—was present, he would request that gentleman to state what
agreement had been made.
As General Garfield arose in his seat he was greeted with loud and
prolonged cheers and applause, and cries of “Platform,” “Step up on the
seat.” He said:
“Mr. President, the Committee on Rules finished its business at
about eleven o’clock by adopting a body of rules and an order of
business. A resolution was then offered by one member of the
committee that it was the judgment of the committee that the report
ought to be made after the report of the Committee on Credentials,
and that was adopted, whether unanimously or not I am unable to say,
for the committee was about breaking up. General Sharpe requested
that a minority of that committee might have leave to offer their
views as a minority, and no objection was made. No vote was taken on
that latter topic. I did not, therefore, and shall not tender a
report of the Committee on Rules. I am, however, like every other
delegate, subject to the orders of this convention, and when they
desire the report and order it, I suppose the committee are ready to
make it, but good faith requires this certainly, that if the
minority is not ready with its report it ought to have the time.”
Mr. Frye then withdrew his motion, and the convention adjourned until
evening.
At half-past five they had reassembled and the battle proceeded at the
point where it had been dropped before adjournment.
The Committee on Credentials were not ready to report, and it was so
announced. The Blaine men forced the fighting, entering a motion by Mr.
Henderson, of Iowa, that the convention proceed to consider the report
of the Committee on Rules and Organization. This the Grant men resisted,
and for this reason: The rules which had been agreed to by the committee
only allowed five minutes debate on the matter of each individual
contested seat. The Grant men did not want the report adopted before the
Committee on Credentials reported, because they wanted to ascertain just
what the latter report would be. Logan led the fight for Grant,
supported by Boutwell and others. Henderson held his own very well.
Finally, after an hour of this running fire of debate, Mr. Sharpe moved
to amend the pending motion by substituting an order that the Committee
on Credentials report at once.
On this amendment a vote was soon reached which proved to be the most
significant event of the day; for it was the first vote taken by States;
it was a test vote between the Grant men on the one side and the allied
anti-Grant factions on the other, and it settled the fate of the “unit
rule.”
Upon Alabama being called, the Chairman of the delegation, Mr. Dunn,
announced 20 ayes.
Mr. Allen Alexander, of Alabama, a colored delegate—I desire to vote
“No.”
The Chairman—Does the gentleman from Alabama desire that his vote should
be received in the negative?
Mr. Alexander—Yes, sir.
The Chairman—It will be so recorded.
Several other States offered divided votes.
The result was against Sharpe’s substitute, by a vote of 318 to 406.
About forty delegates were absent or did not vote. There was great
rejoicing among the anti-Grant factions when it became certain that Hoar
would allow no “unit rule” until forced to do so by an order of the
convention.
On motion of Mr. Brandagee, of Connecticut, Henderson’s motion was laid
on the table, and adjournment till the next day followed immediately.
Friday of convention week dawned less delightfully than did the first
two days. There was a cloudy sky, an east wind, a rheumatic, chilly
atmosphere penetrating every nook and corner of the great Convention
Hall, and a crowd of shivering mortals pushed and elbowed each other up
and down the passages, delegates looking angular, stiff, and cold, and
angry,—every body denouncing the weather. The dull light made the
pictures on the walls look sour and stern and cross. The frown on the
wretched oil-painted face of old Ben Wade was deepened; Zach Chandler’s
hard mouth appeared more firmly set, and Sumner’s jaw was more rigid and
uncompromising than ever in life. The flags drooped under the depressing
atmospheric influences, blue turned black, the red was dull, and the
white looked dirty, and the stars were dim. The opening scenes of each
day had now assumed a stereotyped form. Conkling made his arrival in
state as usual, and the usual cheer went up. General Phil Sheridan was
greeted with hearty applause, and Garfield’s entrance was the signal for
a great ovation.
Hardly had the opening prayer of the good man of God come to its amen
when Mr. Conkling offered the following:
_Resolved_, As the sense of this Convention, that every member of it
is bound in honor to support its nominee, whoever that nominee may
be; and that no man should hold a seat here who is not ready to so
agree.
Mr. Hale said he thought that a Republican Convention did not need to be
instructed, that its first and underlying duty, after nominating its
candidate, was to elect him over the Democratic candidate.
A call of the States being requested, the convention voted unanimously
in favor of Mr. Conkling’s resolution, with the exception of three
hostile votes from West Virginia.
Mr. Conkling then offered the following:
“_Resolved_, That the delegates who have voted that they will not
abide the action of the convention do not deserve and have forfeited
their vote in this convention.”
Mr. Campbell, of West Virginia—“Mr. Chairman: There are three
gentlemen from West Virginia, good and true Republicans, who have
voted in the negative in the last vote. Gentlemen, as a delegate in
a Republican Convention, I am willing to withdraw. If it has come to
this that in the city of Chicago, where I came as a young man from
the State of Virginia, after having submitted twenty years to
contumely and to violence in the State of Virginia for my Republican
principles—if it has come to this, that in the city of Chicago a
delegate from that State can not have a free expression of opinion,
I for one am willing to withdraw from this convention. Mr. Chairman,
I have been a Republican in the State of Virginia from my youth. For
twenty-five years I have published a Republican newspaper in that
State. I have supported every Republican Presidential nominee in
that time. I expect to support the nominee of this convention. But,
sir, I shall do so as a Republican, having imbibed my principles
from the great statesman from New York, William H. Seward, with whom
I had an early acquaintance by virtue of my having gone to school
with him nine years from the city of Utica, from which the Senator
from New York now hails. I was a Republican then, and I made the
acquaintance of that distinguished gentleman. I came home, and in my
youth I became a newspaper editor. From that day to this—from the
John Brown raid on Harper’s Ferry all through the troubles of the
last twenty-five years—I have consistently and always supported our
State and National Republican nominee. But, Mr. Chairman, I feel as
a Republican that there is a principle in this question, and I will
never go into any convention and agree beforehand that whatever may
be done by that convention shall have my indorsement. Sir, as a free
man, whom God made free, I always intend to carry my sovereignty
under my own hat. I never intend that any body of men shall take it
from me. I do not, Mr. Chairman, make my living by politics; I make
it by my labor as a newspaper editor; and I am not afraid to go home
and say that I stood up here in this convention, as I was not afraid
to stand up in the State of West Virginia, when but 2,900 men were
found to vote for Abraham Lincoln, and where that party has risen
to-day to 45,000 votes under the training that we received from our
early inspiration of principle. I am not afraid to go home and face
these men as I have faced them always.”
The two other dissenters also stated their position as defiantly if not
as ably. After some further debate, Mr. Garfield spoke, taking ground
against Conkling’s pending resolution. While speaking to this, he said:
“There never can be a convention, of which I am one delegate, equal
in rights to every other delegate, that shall bind my vote against
my will on any question whatever on which my vote is to be given.
“I regret that these gentlemen thought it best to break the harmony
of this convention by their dissent; but, when they tell the
convention that their dissent was not, and did not mean, that they
would not vote for the nominee of this convention, but only that
they did not think the resolution at this time wise, they acted in
their right, and not by my vote. I do not know the gentlemen, nor
their affiliations, nor their relations to candidates, except one of
them. One of them I knew in the dark days of slavery, and for twenty
long years, in the midst of slave-pens and slave-drivers, has stood
up for liberty with a clear-sighted courage and a brave heart equal
to the best Republicans that live on this globe. And if this
convention expel him, then we must purge ourselves at the end of
every vote by requiring that so many as shall vote against us shall
go out.”
A few minutes later Mr. Conkling withdrew the obnoxious resolution.
The first important business of the day was now transacted. Mr.
Garfield, as Chairman of the Committee on Rules and Order of Business,
read the report of that committee. Its most important provision was:
“Rule VIII. In the record of the votes by States, the vote of each
State, Territory, and the District of Columbia, shall be announced
by the chairman; and in case the votes of any State, Territory, or
the District of Columbia shall be divided, the chairman shall
announce the number of votes cast for any candidate or for or
against any proposition; but, if exception is taken by any delegate
to the correctness of such announcement by the chairman of his
delegation, the president of the convention shall direct the roll of
members of such delegation to be called and the result recorded in
accordance with the votes individually given.”
From this resolution a minority of the committee dissented, and, through
General Sharpe, presented, as Rule VIII, the following:
“In the record of the votes by States, the vote of each State,
Territory, and the District of Columbia shall be announced by the
chairman; and in case the votes of any State, Territory, or the
District of Columbia shall be divided, the chairman shall announce
the number of votes cast for any candidate or for or against any
proposition.”
When the final action was taken, the majority report prevailed.
At last there came the long-delayed report of the Committee on
Credentials, the one great matter preliminary to the real work of this
great gathering of the people’s representatives. This committee’s
principal duty was to decide upon the conflicting claims of “regular”
and “bolting” delegations from several States.
The reading of this report was painfully tedious, taking over three
hours; and the debates which followed as the separate State contests
were being settled, kept any other business from being done that day.
From the State of Louisiana, the committee recommended the admission of
the delegation with their alternates headed by Henry C. Warmouth, and
the exclusion of the delegation with their alternates headed by Taylor
Beattie. This contest arose out of two rival conventions.
The committee recommended James T. Rapier for admission as a delegate
from the Fourth Congressional District of Alabama. The facts found were
that Rapier had been requested to pledge support for Grant, and upon his
refusal to do so the president of the convention had been requested to
withhold the credentials unless he would, within twenty-four hours, give
such pledge. This, Rapier had refused to do.
The committee recommended that William H. Smith and Willett Warner be
admitted in the place of Arthur Bingham and R. A. Mosely from the
Seventh Congressional District of Alabama. The facts in the case of
Messrs. Smith and Warner were substantially the same as those in the
case of James T. Rapier.
The committee recommended the admission of eight delegations from the
State of Illinois, in the place of sitting members. The Committee found
that a State Convention had been held at Springfield, on the 19th day of
May, to elect delegates to the National Convention. During the
convention, the delegates from eight Congressional Districts had
assembled and organized District Conventions, each of which had elected
two delegates and two alternates to the Chicago Convention by clear
majorities of all the delegates elected to the State Convention in each
of said districts, as was shown by the credentials accompanying the
report. The State Convention, by means of a committee of one from each
Congressional District, selected, and afterward assumed to elect, two
delegates to the National Convention, including the sitting members from
the foregoing districts, the delegates from each of which filed in the
State Convention protests against said election by the State Convention.
The committee reported against the validity of the contests in the
Second District of Illinois of the seats of sitting members, A. M.
Wright and R. S. Tuthill.
Contests were also settled by this report in cases coming from several
other States.
In each case of favorable consideration, the committee ascertained that
those delegates who were recommended were actually chosen by a proper
convention, representing the Congressional District from which they were
accredited.
The committee then proceeded to the justice and equity of recognizing,
securing, and protecting Congressional District representation, as is
also demonstrated by the actual precedents of the Republican party since
its organization.
With the exception of a couple of hours for supper, this extraordinary
session kept to the subjects of this report steadily from one o’clock in
the afternoon till after two in the morning. This chapter can not find
room for these debates, though surpassing in interest, as they do, many
a volume of the _Congressional Record_. The Illinois questions caused
the most intense feeling of all. At ten o’clock they were taken up;
after a short time, on motion, the further debate was limited to one
hour on each side.
The whole subject of this report was not fully disposed of until early
in the Saturday session. The result was that the majority report was
adopted, and the “machine” thus received another solid shot, which
penetrated its iron sides below waterline; but the leaders fired no guns
to signal their distress.
Saturday, June 5th, was, like Friday, dark and gloomy. The vast crowd,
after the preceding night of excitement, was, of course, dull and
sleepy. It was noted, however, that when Garfield came into the hall the
audience waked up and gave a hearty cheer.
The roll was called at about twelve o’clock. After finishing the matters
connected with the credentials, the Convention, on motion of General
Garfield, adopted the report of the Committee on Rules. The Committee on
Resolutions next reported, and the Platform was adopted; after which the
Convention adjourned till evening.
Skirmishing ended, now would come serious work. The triumvirate and its
legions had exhausted every parliamentary resource for delay, and at
last had to face “the inevitable hour” which must lead, for them, to
glory, or the common grave of all their plans.
It was a magnificent audience which poured into the great hall that
evening to witness the beginning of the end of this tremendous political
conflict.
After some preliminaries, Mr. Hale, of Maine, moved that the roll of
States be called alphabetically and that nominations for candidates for
President be made.
General Logan inquired whether the rules permitted the seconding of
nominations for candidates for President. The Chairman said no, that the
rules did not provide for it. Garfield thought there would be no
objection to the seconding of nominations. Unanimous consent was
accorded for five-minute speeches in seconding nominations. Hale’s
motion was then adopted without opposition.
The roll was then called down to Michigan, with no responses. When that
State was named, James F. Joy arose and nominated, for President of the
United States, James G. Blaine. Mr. Joy was not the kind of a man to
arouse the enthusiasm of an audience, and when he had closed, Mr.
Pixley, of California, seconded the nomination. These speeches were a
great disappointment to the Blaine men. They still remembered
Ingersoll’s famous “plumed knight” speech for Blaine at Cincinnati, in
1876. To remedy matters, Mr. William P. Frye, of Maine, obtained the
floor by consent, and delivered the following brief, but brilliant
little speech, which, in a measure, retrieved the mistake already made.
He said:
“I saw once a storm at sea in the night-time, and our staunch old
ship battling for its life with the fury of the tempest; darkness
every-where; the wind shrieking and howling through the rigging; the
huge waves beating upon the sides of that ship and making her shiver
from stem to stern. The lightnings were flashing, the thunders were
rolling. There was danger every-where. I saw at the helm a calm,
bold, courageous, immovable, commanding man. In the tempest, calm;
in the commotion, quiet; in the dismay, hopeful. I saw him take that
old ship and bring her into the harbor, into still waters, into
safety. That man was a hero. I saw the good old ship, the State of
Maine, within the last year, fighting her way through the same
darkness, through the same perils, against the same waves, against
the same dangers. She was freighted with all that is precious in the
principles of our Republic—with the rights of American citizenship,
with all that is guaranteed to the American citizen by our
Constitution. The eyes of the whole Nation were upon her; an intense
anxiety filled every American heart, lest the grand old ship, the
State of Maine, might go down beneath the waves forever, carrying
her precious freight with her. But, sir, there was a man at the
helm. Calm, deliberate, commanding, sagacious, he made even the
foolish men wise. Courageous, he inspired the timid with courage;
hopeful, he gave heart to the dismayed, and he brought that good old
ship proudly into the harbor, into safety, and there she floats
to-day, brighter, purer, stronger from her baptism of danger. That
man, too, was a hero, and his name was James G. Blaine. Maine sends
greetings to this magnificent Convention. With the memory of her own
salvation from impending peril fresh upon her, she says to you,
representatives of 50,000,000 of American people, who have met here
to counsel how the Republic shall be saved, she says to you,
representatives of the people, take a man, a true man, a staunch man
for your leader, who has just saved her, and who will bear you to
safety and certain victory.”
Minnesota was next called; whereupon E. F. Drake placed in nomination
William Windom, of Winona, a very able and distinguished Senator from
that State.
Now was heard the call for New York; a call which meant Roscoe Conkling
and the nomination of the great General and ex-President, Ulysses S.
Grant.
As Mr. Conkling advanced to the front, he was greeted with tremendous
cheers. Taking a commanding position on one of the reporter’s tables, he
stood a few moments and regarded the audience while they grew silent at
an imperious wave of his hand. Then he said:
“When asked whence comes our candidate, our sole reply shall be, he
hails from Appomattox with its famous apple-tree. In obedience to
instructions I should never dare to disregard, expressing also my
own firm conviction, I rise to propose a nomination with which the
country and the Republican party can grandly win. The election
before us is to be the Austerlitz of American politics. It will
decide for many years whether the country shall be Republican or
Cossack. The supreme need of the hour is not a candidate who can
carry Michigan. All Republican candidates can do that. The need is
not of a candidate popular in the territories, because they have no
vote. The need is of a candidate who can carry doubtful States. Not
the doubtful States of the North, but doubtful States of the South,
which we have heard, if I understand it aright, ought to take little
or no part here, because the South has nothing to give, but every
thing to receive. No, gentlemen, the need that presses upon the
conscience of this convention is of a candidate who can carry
doubtful States both North and South. And believing that he, more
surely than any other man, can carry New York against any opponent,
and can carry not only the North but several States of the South,
New York is for Ulysses S. Grant. Never defeated in peace or in war,
his name is the most illustrious borne by living man.
“His services attest his greatness, and the country—nay, the
world—knows them by heart. His fame was earned not alone in things
written and said, but by the arduous greatness of things done. And
perils and emergencies will search in vain in the future, as they
have searched in vain in the past, for any other on whom the nation
leans with such confidence and trust. Never having had a policy to
enforce against the will of the people, he never betrayed a cause or
a friend, and the people will never desert nor betray him. Standing
on the highest eminence of human distinction, modest, firm, simple,
and self-poised, having filled all lands with his renown, he has
seen not only the high-born and the titled, but the poor and the
lowly in the uttermost ends of the earth, rise and uncover before
him. He has studied the needs and the defects of many systems of
government; and he has returned a better American than ever, with a
wealth of knowledge and experience added to the hard common sense
which shone so conspicuously in all the fierce light that beat upon
him during sixteen years, the most trying, the most portentous, the
most perilous.
“Vilified and reviled, truthlessly aspersed by unnumbered presses,
not in other lands, but in his own, assaults upon him have seasoned
and strengthened his hold on the public heart. Calumny’s ammunition
has all been exploded; the powder has all been burned once; its
force is spent: and the name of Grant will glitter a bright and
imperishable star in the diadem of the Republic when those who have
tried to tarnish that name have moldered in forgotten graves, and
when their memories and their epitaphs have vanished utterly.
“Never elated by success, never depressed by adversity, he has ever,
in peace as in war, shown the very genius of common sense. The terms
he prescribed for Lee’s surrender foreshadowed the wisest prophecies
and principles of true reconstruction. Victor in the greatest war of
modern times, he quickly signalized his aversion to war, and his
love of peace by an arbitration of international disputes, which
stands the wisest, the most majestic example of its kind in the
world’s diplomacy. When inflation, at the height of its popularity
and frenzy, had swept both Houses of Congress, it was the veto of
Grant which, single and alone, overthrew expansion, and cleared the
way for specie resumption. To him, _to him_ immeasurably more than
to any other man, is due the fact that every paper dollar is as good
as gold.
“With him as our leader we shall have no defensive campaign. No! We
shall have nothing to explain away. We shall have no apologies to
make. The shafts and the arrows have all been aimed at him, and they
lie broken and harmless at his feet.
“Life, liberty, and property will find a safeguard in him. When he
said of the colored men in Florida, ‘Wherever I am they may come
also;’ when he so said, he meant that had he the power, the poor
dwellers in the cabins of the South should no longer be driven in
terror from the homes of their childhood and the graves of their
murdered dead. When he refused to receive Denis Kearney in
California, he meant that Communism, lawlessness, and disorder,
although it might stalk high-headed and dictate law to a whole city,
would find a foe in him. He meant that popular or unpopular, he
would hew to the line of right, let the chips fly where they may.
“His integrity, his common sense, his courage, his unequaled
experience, are the qualities offered to his country. The only
argument, the only one that the wit of man or the stress of politics
has devised is one which would dumbfounder Solomon, because he
thought there was nothing new under the sun. Having tried Grant
twice and found him faithful, we are told that we must not, even
after an interval of years, trust him again. My countrymen! my
countrymen what stultification does not such a fallacy involve. The
American people exclude Jefferson Davis from public trust. Why? Why?
Because he was the arch-traitor and would-be destroyer; and now the
same people is asked to ostracise Grant, and not to trust him. Why?
Why, I repeat? Because he was the arch-preserver of his country, and
because not only in war, but twice as Civil Magistrate, he gave his
highest, noblest efforts to the Republic. Is this an electioneering
juggle, or is it hypocrisy’s masquerade? There is no field of human
activity, responsibility, or reason, in which rational beings object
to an agent because he has been weighed in the balance and not found
wanting; no department of human reason in which sane men reject an
agent because he has had experience, making him exceptionally
competent and fit. From the man who shoes your horse to the lawyer
who tries your cause, the officer who manages your railway or your
mill, the doctor into whose hands you give your life, or the
minister who seeks to save your soul, what man do you reject
because, by his works, you have known him, and found him faithful
and fit? What makes the Presidential office an exception to all
things else in the common sense to be applied to selecting its
incumbent? Who dares—who dares to put fetters on that free choice
and judgment which is the birthright of the American people? Can it
be said that Grant has used official power and place to perpetuate
his term? He has no place, and official power has not been used for
him. Without patronage and without emissaries, without committees,
without bureaus, without telegraph wires running from his house to
this Convention, or running from his house anywhere else, this man
is the candidate whose friends have never threatened to bolt unless
this Convention did as they said. He is a Republican who never
wavers. He and his friends stand by the creed and the candidates of
the Republican party. They hold the rightful rule of the majority as
the very essence of their faith, and they mean to uphold that faith
against not only the common enemy, but against the charlatans,
jayhawkers, tramps, and guerrillas—the men who deploy between the
lines, and forage now on one side and then on the other. This
Convention is master of a supreme opportunity. It can name the next
President. It can make sure of his election. It can make sure not
only of his election, but of his certain and peaceful inauguration.
It can break that power which dominates and mildews the South. It
can overthrow an organization whose very existence is a standing
protest against progress.
“The purpose of the Democratic party is spoils. Its very hope of
existence is a solid South. Its success is a menace to order and
progress. I say this Convention can overthrow that power. It can
dissolve and emancipate a solid South. It can speed the Nation in a
career of grandeur eclipsing all past achievements. Gentlemen, we
have only to listen above the din and look beyond the dust of an
hour to behold the Republican party advancing with its ensigns
resplendent with illustrious achievements, marching to certain
victory with its greatest Marshal at its head.”
After Mr. Bradley, of Kentucky, had seconded Grant’s nomination, the
call proceeded, and Ohio being reached, General Garfield arose. Amid
great applause he advanced to Mr. Conkling’s late high station on a
table, and, as soon as order was restored, said:
“Mr. President: I have witnessed the extraordinary scenes of this
Convention with deep solicitude. No emotion touches my heart more
quickly than a sentiment in honor of a great and noble character.
But as I sat on these seats and witnessed these demonstrations, it
seemed to me you were a human ocean in a tempest. I have seen the
sea lashed into fury and tossed into spray, and its grandeur moves
the soul of the dullest man. But I remember that it is not the
billows, but the calm level of the sea from which all heights and
depths are measured. When the storm has passed and the hour of calm
settles on the ocean, when sunshine bathes its smooth surface, then
the astronomer and surveyor takes the level from which he measures
all terrestrial heights and depths. Gentlemen of the convention,
your present temper may not mark the healthful pulse of the people.
“When our enthusiasm has passed, when the emotions of this hour have
subsided, we shall find the calm level of public opinion, below the
storm, from which the thoughts of a mighty people are to be
measured, and by which their final action will be determined. Not
here, in this brilliant circle, where 15,000 men and women are
assembled, is the destiny of the Republic to be decreed; not here,
where I see the enthusiastic faces of 756 delegates waiting to cast
their votes into the urn and determine the choice of their party;
but by 5,000,000 Republican firesides, where the thoughtful fathers,
with wives and children about them, with calm thoughts inspired by
love of home and love of country, with the history of the past, the
hopes of the future, and the knowledge of the great men who have
adorned and blessed our nation in days gone by,—there God prepares
the verdict that shall determine the wisdom of our work to-night.
Not in Chicago, in the heat of June, but in the sober quiet that
comes between now and November, in the silence of deliberate
judgment, will this great question be settled. Let us aid them
to-night.
“But now, gentlemen of the Convention, what do we want? Bear with me
a moment. Hear me for this cause, and for a moment, be silent that
you may hear. Twenty-five years ago this Republic was wearing a
triple chain of bondage. Long familiarity with the traffic in the
body and souls of men had paralyzed the consciences of a majority of
our people. The baleful doctrine of State sovereignty had shocked
and weakened the noblest and most beneficent powers of the National
Government, and the grasping power of slavery was seizing the virgin
Territories of the West and dragging them into the den of eternal
bondage. At that crisis the Republican party was born. It drew its
first inspiration from the fire of liberty which God has lighted in
every man’s heart, and which all the powers of ignorance and tyranny
can never wholly extinguish. The Republican party came to deliver
and save the Republic. It entered the arena when beleaguered and
assailed Territories were struggling for freedom, and drew around
them the sacred circle of liberty, which the demon of slavery has
never dared to cross. It made them free forever.
“Strengthened by its victory on the frontier, the young party, under
the leadership of that great man, who on this spot, twenty years
ago, was made its leader, entered the national capital and assumed
the high duties of the Government. The light which shone from its
banner dispelled the darkness in which slavery had enshrouded the
Capitol and melted the shackles of every slave, and consumed, in the
fire of liberty, every slave-pen within the shadow of the Capitol.
Our national industries, by an impoverishing policy, were themselves
prostrated, and the streams of revenue flowed in such feeble
currents that the treasury itself was well nigh empty. The money of
the people was the wretched notes of 2,000 uncontrolled and
irresponsible state bank corporations, which were filling the
country with a circulation that poisoned rather than sustained the
life of business.
“The Republican party changed all this. It abolished the babel of
confusion and gave the country a currency as national as its flag,
based upon the sacred faith of the people. It threw its protecting
arm around our great industries, and they stood erect as with new
life. It filled with the spirit of true nationality all the great
functions of the Government. It confronted a rebellion of unexampled
magnitude, with a slavery behind it, and, under God, fought the
final battle of liberty until victory was won. Then, after the
storms of battle, were heard the sweet, calm words of peace uttered
by the conquering nation, and saying to the conquered foe that lay
prostrate at its feet, ‘This is our only revenge, that you join us
in lifting to the serene firmament of the Constitution, to shine
like stars forever and forever, the immortal principles of truth and
justice, that all men, white or black, shall be free and stand equal
before the law.’ Then came the questions of reconstruction, the
public debt, and the public faith.
“In the settlement of these questions the Republican party has
completed its twenty-five years of glorious existence, and it has
sent us here to prepare it for another lustrum of duty and of
victory. How shall we do this great work? We can not do it, my
friends, by assailing our Republican brethren. God forbid that I
should say one word to cast a shadow upon any name on the roll of
our heroes. This coming fight is our Thermopylæ. We are standing
upon a narrow isthmus. If our Spartan hosts are united we can
withstand all the Persians that the Xerxes of Democracy can bring
against us.
“Let us hold our ground this one year, for the stars in their
courses fight for us in the future. The census to be taken this year
will bring reinforcements and continued power. But, in order to win
this victory now, we want the vote of every Republican, of every
Grant Republican in America, of every Blaine man and every
anti-Blaine man. The vote of every follower of every candidate is
needed to make our success certain; therefore I say, gentlemen and
brethren, we are here to calmly counsel together, and inquire what
we shall do. [A voice: ‘Nominate Garfield.’—Great applause.]
“We want a man whose life and opinions embody all the achievements
of which I have spoken. We want a man who, standing on a mountain
height, sees all the achievements of our past history, and carries
in his heart the memory of all its glorious deeds, and who, looking
forward, prepares to meet the labor and the dangers to come. We want
one who will act in no spirit of unkindness toward those we lately
met in battle. The Republican party offers to our brethren of the
South the olive branch of peace, and wishes them to return to
brotherhood, on this supreme condition, that it shall be admitted,
forever and for evermore, that, in the war for the Union, we were
right and they were wrong. On that supreme condition we meet them as
brethren, and no other. We ask them to share with us the blessings
and honors of this great Republic.
“Now, gentlemen, not to weary you, I am about to present a name for
your consideration—the name of a man who was the comrade, and
associate, and friend of nearly all those noble dead whose faces
look down upon us from these walls to-night; a man who began his
career of public service twenty-five years ago, whose first duty was
courageously done in the days of peril on the plains of Kansas, when
the first red drops of that bloody shower began to fall which
finally swelled into the deluge of war. He bravely stood by young
Kansas then, and, returning to his duty in the national legislature,
through all subsequent time his pathway has been marked by labors
performed in every department of legislation.
“You ask for his monuments. I point you to twenty-five years of the
national statutes. Not one great beneficent statute has been placed
on our statute books without his intelligent and powerful aid. He
aided these men to formulate the laws that raised our great armies
and carried us through the war. His hand was seen in the workmanship
of those statutes that restored and brought back the unity and
married calm of the States. His hand was in all that great
legislation that created the war currency, and in a greater work
that redeemed the promises of the Government, and made the currency
equal to gold. And when, at last, called from the halls of
legislation into a high executive office, he displayed that
experience, intelligence, firmness, and poise of character which has
carried us through a stormy period of three years. With one-half the
public press crying ‘Crucify him!’ and a hostile Congress seeking to
prevent success—in all this he remained unmoved until victory
crowned him.
“The great fiscal affairs of the nation and the great business
interests of the country he has guarded and preserved, while
executing the law of resumption and effecting its object without a
jar, and against the false prophecies of one-half of the press and
all the Democracy of this continent. He has shown himself able to
meet with calmness the great emergencies of the Government for
twenty-five years. He has trodden the perilous heights of public
duty, and against all the shafts of malice has borne his breast
unharmed. He has stood in the blaze of ‘that fierce light that beats
against the throne,’ but its fiercest ray has found no flaw in his
armor, no stain on his shield.
“I do not present him as a better Republican, or as a better man
than thousands of others we honor, but I present him for your
deliberate consideration. I nominate John Sherman, of Ohio.”
The addresses of Conkling and Garfield are given here, that the reader
may contrast these two great leaders at their best. Garfield’s speech
made a profound impression, not only on the Convention, but on the
country,—and strengthened the already powerful sentiment in favor of
making himself the nominee.
Edmunds and Washburne were the only other nominations proposed. They,
with Sherman, were minor candidates, whose only hope lay in the enmity
of the Grant and Blaine factions, whose evenly-balanced powers would
prevent the success of either.
At twelve o’clock the Convention adjourned over till Monday,—but not for
a Sabbath of repose! On Sunday very few of the delegates found time for
church, but devoted the day to mustering forces, polishing arms, and a
general preparation for the battle of the ballots on Monday. Of the
group of great men who led these hosts of enthusiasts, Garfield was one
of the very, very few, who attended religious worship. Bound by the good
habit of Sabbath observance, he went his solitary way to a little
congregation of Disciples, where the tumult and turmoil of the time was
smoothed away in peaceful contemplation of the eternal.
A bright, cool, and delightful morning made the Convention open
pleasantly on Monday, and at half-past ten the Hall was filled with an
immense crowd, made up largely of ladies, come to see the climax of this
great battle, and to be in at the finish. The Blaine men were confident.
Grant’s followers were not so confident, but still determined. All were
hopeful, as the uncertain always may possibly favor us, and most men
believe in the luck of their own stars.
On motion, when called to order, the roll of States was called for the
first ballot, which appears in full on the opposite page.
After this vote it became evident that there would be no immediate
choice, and with a long breath of resignation to its fate, the multitude
settled down to a prospectively long siege. There were twenty-eight
successive ballots taken, when the day’s work ended, and still no
choice.
On Tuesday, June 8, the sixth and last day of the Convention, the great
work of nomination was completed. “It was done, and well done.” We give
the work of the day somewhat in detail:
On the twenty-ninth ballot Sherman’s vote suddenly went up from 91 on
the previous ballot to 116. This resulted from a change in
Massachusetts, which broke for him to the extent of twenty-one votes. On
the thirtieth he reached his best vote, 120, and then steadily sank to
99 on the thirty-fifth ballot.
Finally that wonderful Grant column of three hundred and five, which had
stood so nobly by their great candidate for many hours, began to gain.
Pennsylvania gave him an increase, and on the thirty-fourth ballot he
had 312 votes. It then became evident that the anti-Grant factions must
combine at once, or be beaten.
FIRST VOTE.
─────────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────
STATES. │ Grant │ Blaine │ Sherman │Washburne│ Edmunds │ Windom
─────────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────
Alabama │ 16│ 1│ 3│ │ │
Arkansas │ 12│ │ │ │ │
California │ │ 12│ │ │ │
Colorado │ 6│ │ │ │ │
Connecticut │ │ 3│ │ 7│ 2│
Delaware │ │ 6│ │ │ │
Florida │ 8│ │ │ │ │
Georgia │ 6│ 8│ 8│ │ │
Illinois │ 24│ 10│ │ 8│ │
Indiana │ 1│ 26│ 2│ 1│ │
Iowa │ │ 22│ │ │ │
Kansas │ 4│ 6│ │ │ │
Kentucky │ 20│ 1│ 3│ │ │
Louisiana │ 8│ 2│ 6│ │ │
Maine │ │ 14│ │ │ │
Maryland │ 7│ 7│ 2│ │ │
Massachusetts│ 3│ │ 2│ 1│ 20│
Michigan │ 1│ 21│ │ │ │
Minnesota │ │ │ │ │ │ 10
Mississippi │ 6│ 4│ 6│ │ │
Missouri │ 29│ │ │ 1│ │
Nebraska │ │ 6│ │ │ │
Nevada │ │ 6│ │ │ │
New Hampshire│ │ 10│ │ │ │
New Jersey │ │ 16│ │ 2│ │
New York │ 51│ 17│ 2│ │ │
North │ 6│ │ 14│ │ │
Carolina │ │ │ │ │ │
Ohio │ │ 9│ 34│ │ 1│
Oregon │ │ 6│ │ │ │
Pennsylvania │ 32│ 23│ 3│ │ │
Rhode Island │ │ 8│ │ │ │
South │ 13│ │ 1│ │ │
Carolina │ │ │ │ │ │
Tennessee │ 16│ 6│ 1│ │ 1│
Texas │ 11│ 2│ 2│ 1│ │
Vermont │ │ │ │ │ 10│
Virginia │ 18│ 3│ 1│ │ │
West Virginia│ 1│ 8│ │ │ │
Wisconsin │ 1│ 7│ 3│ 9│ │
Arizona │ │ 2│ │ │ │
District of │ 1│ 1│ │ │ │
Columbia │ │ │ │ │ │
Montana │ │ 2│ │ │ │
New Mexico │ │ 2│ │ │ │
Utah │ 1│ 1│ │ │ │
Washington │ │ 2│ │ │ │
Dakota │ 1│ 1│ │ │ │
Idaho │ │ 2│ │ │ │
Wyoming │ 1│ 1│ │ │ │
─────────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────
TOTAL │ 304│ 284│ 93│ 30│ 34│ 10
It was at this point that Wisconsin pointed them the way to victory.
Garfield’s manly course in the Convention had created a favorable
impression on all sides, the result of which in the Wisconsin delegation
was that he was freely talked of for second choice. They held no caucus,
and during the night of Monday were anxiously waiting to see some other
State make the break for Garfield. After the adjournment on Monday night
the matter was talked up in the delegation, and it was agreed that, if
no other solution offered itself within three or four ballots, the
delegation would throw its solid strength to Garfield. No consultation
was had on the subject with the other leaders, as it was intended to
operate as a feeler, Wisconsin being among the last States called on the
roll. The result of this feeler is now a matter of history. The
thirty-fifth ballot developed a Garfield strength of 50 votes.
Amid the most intense excitement another call was ordered. It was GRANT
or GARFIELD—which?
Here General Garfield rose to a question of order. He challenged the
vote on the ground that votes had been given for him without his
consent, which consent he absolutely refused to give. The point was
overruled. The roll call proceeded. When Connecticut was reached, eleven
of the twelve votes were given for Garfield. This was the beginning of
the excitement. Then Illinois gave seven votes for Garfield, followed by
Indiana with twenty-nine votes. Next came Iowa, which had voted for
Blaine on every ballot, with its full twenty-two votes for Garfield.
When Maine was reached it voted for Garfield. This settled the question.
Blaine was out of the field, and Garfield was speedily nominated.
Vermont, Edmunds’ State, gave a solid vote for Garfield.
At this point the people could no longer be controlled. The breeze had
grown into a storm of enthusiasm. Delegates crowded around Garfield; the
people in the galleries, ignoring the lines that had divided them,
cheered and waved their hats and handkerchiefs. In this 10,000 people
were engaged. It was taken up by almost as many people on the outside,
where cannon were also discharged. The scene was one that will not soon
be forgotten by those who were present. Republicans, without regard to
previous differences, felt and acted as if a great and crushing weight
had been removed, and as if they had safely emerged from an impending
danger—a danger that threatened the very existence of the party.
The result was read out as follows: Whole number of votes, 755;
necessary to a choice, 378; Grant, 306; Blaine, 42; Sherman, 3;
Washburne, 5; Garfield, 399.
There was immense cheering, and the Chairman found it difficult to
restore order. But order being secured, he said: “_James A. Garfield is
nominated for President of the United States_.”
In the midst of all this, Garfield sat deeply moved. He was overwhelmed.
Loud calls of “Platform” and “Speech” were unheard by him, and he sat
silently in the heart of the hurricane which had caught him up.
As soon as a hearing could be obtained, Mr. Conkling arose, and, after a
few remarks on the subject of unity and harmony, and in praise of the
nominee, moved that the nomination be made unanimous. This motion was
seconded, with warm pledges of support, by several distinguished
gentlemen, previous leaders of factions, now leaders of a united and
satisfied political party.
At half-past two o’clock the Convention adjourned to meet again at seven
in the evening. In view of the fact that the man nominated for the
second place on the National ticket was, in fact, a future president, it
may be well to give this closing session a passing notice.
When the time of reassembling came, business was begun at once. The
principal names presented for Vice-President were: Elihu B. Washburne,
of Illinois; Marshall Jewell, of Connecticut; and Chester A. Arthur, of
New York. On the first and only ballot the New York gentleman received
468 votes to 288 for all others. A vote to make the nomination unanimous
carried with a good will, and Garfield and Arthur were at last before
the country on their records and their characters, both to be approved
and both to be elected.
The following table gives the results of each ballot in the
well-contested struggle, of which this brief chronicle has been trying
to tell the story:
KEY:
A—Grant
B—Blaine
C—Sherman
D—Washburne
E—Edmunds
F—Windom
G—Garfield
H—Hayes
I—Harrison
J—McCrary
K—Davis, of Texas
L—Hartranft, of Pa.
───────────────────────┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───┬───
BALLOTS. │ A │ B │ C │ D │ E │ F │ G │ H │ I │ J │ K │ L
───────────────────────┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───┼───
First │304│284│ 93│ 30│ 34│ 10│ │ │ │ │ │
Second │305│282│ 94│ 31│ 32│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │
Third │305│282│ 93│ 31│ 32│ 10│ 1│ │ 1│ │ │
Fourth │305│281│ 95│ 31│ 32│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │
Fifth │305│281│ 95│ 31│ 32│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │
Sixth │305│280│ 95│ 31│ 32│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Seventh │305│281│ 94│ 31│ 32│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Eighth │306│284│ 91│ 32│ 31│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │
Ninth │308│282│ 90│ 32│ 31│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Tenth │305│282│ 92│ 32│ 31│ 10│ 2│ 1│ │ │ │
Eleventh │305│281│ 93│ 32│ 31│ 10│ 2│ 1│ │ │ │
Twelfth │304│283│ 92│ 33│ 31│ 10│ 1│ 1│ │ │ │
Thirteenth │305│285│ 89│ 33│ 31│ 10│ 1│ │ │ 1│ │
Fourteenth │305│285│ 89│ 35│ 31│ 10│ │ │ │ │ │
Fifteenth │309│281│ 88│ 36│ 31│ 10│ │ │ │ │ │
Sixteenth │306│283│ 88│ 36│ 31│ 10│ │ │ │ │ │
Seventeenth │303│284│ 90│ 36│ 31│ 10│ │ │ │ │ 1│
Eighteenth │305│283│ 91│ 35│ 31│ 10│ │ │ │ │ │
Nineteenth │305│279│ 96│ 32│ 31│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │ 1
Twentieth │308│276│ 93│ 35│ 31│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │ 1
Twenty-first │305│276│ 96│ 35│ 31│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │ 1
Twenty-second │305│275│ 97│ 35│ 31│ 10│ 1│ │ │ │ │ 1
Twenty-third │304│275│ 97│ 36│ 31│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Twenty-fourth │305│279│ 93│ 35│ 31│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Twenty-fifth │302│281│ 91│ 35│ 31│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Twenty-sixth │303│280│ 93│ 36│ 31│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Twenty-seventh │306│277│ 93│ 36│ 31│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Twenty-eighth │307│279│ 91│ 35│ 31│ 10│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Twenty-ninth │305│278│116│ 35│ 12│ 7│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Thirtieth │306│279│120│ 33│ 11│ 4│ 2│ │ │ │ │
Thirty-first │308│276│118│ 37│ 11│ 3│ 1│ │ │ │ │
Thirty-second │309│270│117│ 44│ 11│ 3│ 1│ │ │ │ │
Thirty-third │309│276│110│ 44│ 11│ 4│ 1│ │ │ │ │
Thirty-fourth │312│275│107│ 30│ 11│ 4│ 17│ │ │ │ │
Thirty-fifth │313│257│ 99│ 23│ 11│ 3│ 50│ │ │ │ │
Thirty-sixth │306│ 42│ 3│ 5│ │ │399│ │ │ │ │
───────────────────────┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───┴───
CHAPTER XI.
CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENCY.
To be thus made a mark conspicuous
For Envy’s shaft and brutal prejudice—
To hear above the loud huzzas the voice
Of some Satanic fool’s malignity
Roaring along the wind, like a wild ass
Braying th’ Assyrian desert, and to doubt
The applauding throng that gathers eagerly
To share the sunshine or perchance to weave
Some subtle scheme of selfishness,—all this
Is what the orators and poets call
The crowning honor!
A candidate for public office has a difficult part to play. There is
constant and imminent danger that he will commit some blunder, and
thereby put himself on the defensive. The fear of doing or saying
something which shall put a club into the hands of the enemy haunts both
himself and his friends. He is obliged to stand for some months on a
high platform in the market-place, saying to the whole world: “Now get
out your microscopes and your telescopes; with the one examine me, and
with the other examine the heavens of my past, and see if you can’t find
something that shall make me wince—some tender spot which you may prod
and make me cry out with pain.”
Notably does a candidate for the presidency suffer from exposure to this
fierce light and heat. All summer long he must be scrutinized and
assailed. All kinds of attack he must meet with equanimity. Every sort
of missile he must face, from the keenest-barbed arrows of analysis and
satire to the vulgarest discharges of mud. To be angered is a sign that
he is hurt; to bear it without flinching is a sign of indifferent
reprobacy; to do nothing at all is a sign of cowardice! Of a certainty
the American people will see their man. They will hear him, if he can be
tortured into opening his mouth. To all this we must add the diabolical
ingenuity of that inquisitor-general of the ages, the “interviewer” of
the public press—that wizen-faced mixture of gimlet, corkscrew, and
blood-sucker, who squeezes in, and bores, and pumps, and then goes away
with a bucket filled with the ichor of his own imagination. This he
retails to the public as the very wine of truth!
All the dangers of the case considered, the candidate generally adopts
the policy of mum. He becomes _pro tempore_ a universal know-nothing. He
has no ideas, no thoughts, no opinions. He has no political preferences.
He has not heard the news from Europe. He does not know whether the
Danubian provinces can compete with the American wheat-fields or not. He
has never heard that there is an English market for American beef. He
has never read a book. His family receive the newspapers; he does not
read them. The grave problem as to whether the Mississippi runs by St.
Louis he has not fully considered. The time of the year and the day of
the week are open questions which he has not investigated. Such matters
should be referred to the managers of the observatory and the bureau of
statistics. Only on two things does he plant himself firmly; to wit, the
Nicene Creed and the platform of his party!
How would General Garfield, now that he was nominated, bear himself
before the country? Could one who had so long been accustomed to
speaking out in meeting hold his peace, and assume the role of the
typical know-nothing? The General seems not to have taken counsel with
any body on this question, but simply to have made up his mind that the
mum policy was pusillanimous, and that for himself he would continue to
talk to his neighbors and friends and the general public just as usual.
This was, according to the judgment of the trimmers, an alarming
decision. Even thoughtful politicians were doubtful whether the
outspoken, talking policy could be trusted. But General Garfield soon
taught them and the country at large the useful lesson that a man can
talk without being a fool. He began at once to converse freely on all
proper occasions, to make little speeches to delegations of friends who
came from all directions to pay their respects, and to abandon, both
theoretically and practically, the monastic method of running for
office.
But let us resume the narrative. In the evening after his nomination the
General was called upon at the parlors of the Grand Pacific Hotel, and
in the presence of a great company of ladies and gentlemen was formally
notified of his nomination. Senator Hoar headed the committee appointed
to carry the news to the nominee, and to receive, in due season, his
response. The committee confronted General Garfield, and the
distinguished chairman said:
“_General Garfield_: The gentlemen present are appointed by the
National Republican Convention, representatives of every State in
the Union, and have been directed to convey to you the formal
ceremonial notice of your nomination as the Republican candidate for
the office of President of the United States. It is known to you
that the convention which has made this nomination assembled divided
in opinion and in council in regard to the candidate. It may not be
known to you with what unanimity of pleasure and of hopes the
convention has received the result which it has reached. You
represent not only the distinctive principles and opinion of the
Republican party, but you represent also its unity; and in the name
of every State in the Union represented on the committee, I convey
to you the assurance of the cordial support of the Republican party
of these States at the coming election.”
At the conclusion of Senator Hoar’s speech, General Garfield replied
with great gravity and composure:
“_Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen_: I assure you that the information you
have officially given to me brings the sense of very grave
responsibility, and especially so in view of the fact that I was a
member of your body, a fact that could not have existed with
propriety had I had the slightest expectation that my name would be
connected with the nomination for the office. I have felt, with you,
great solicitude concerning the situation of our party during the
struggle; but, believing that you are correct in assuring me that
substantial unity has been reached in the conclusion, it gives me a
gratification far greater than any personal pleasure your
announcement can bring.
“I accept the trust committed to my hands. As to the work of our
party, and as to the character of the campaign to be entered upon, I
will take an early occasion to reply more fully than I can properly
do to-night.
“I thank you for the assurances of confidence and esteem you have
presented to me, and hope we shall see our future as promising as
are indications to-night.”
As soon as the morning broke, General Garfield made preparations for
starting home. It seldom falls to the lot of man to return home under
such circumstances. He was followed by the eyes of millions. A special
car whirled him away in triumph. By his side were a multitude of
distinguished friends. A candidate for the presidency of the United
States is not likely to want for friends. Those who accompanied General
Garfield, however, were, for the most part, the genuine article. Many of
them were his old comrades in arms; others were prominent politicians,
some of them, no doubt, busy in constructing the fabric of a new
administration with themselves for possible corner-stones.
At La Porte, Indiana, the train made a halt. That great organ of
American noise, the brass band, came down the street with a
multitudinous citizenship at its heels. The huzzas called out the
General. He was introduced by Governor Foster, of Ohio. Then there were
more huzzas, and the train rolled away. The same happened at South Bend,
at Elkhart, at Goshen, and at all the other points, great and small,
between Chicago and Cleveland. At the latter city there was an immense
demonstration. The spacious depot was crowded with an enthusiastic
throng, that burst out with far-resounding cheers as the General’s train
came in. The city was all in a flutter, and it became evident that _the
people_ were up and stirring. The great Ohioan was driven to the hotel,
and, in response to a speech of welcome, said:
“_Fellow-citizens of my native county and of my State_: I thank you
for this remarkable demonstration of your good-will and enthusiasm
on this occasion. I can not at this time proceed upon any speech.
All that I have to say is, that I know that all this demonstration
means your gladness at the unity and harmony and good feeling of a
great political party, and in part your good feeling toward a
neighbor, an old friend. For all of these reasons I thank you, and
bid you good night.”
The following day, the 10th of June, was passed at Cleveland, and on the
morrow General Garfield visited his old school at Hiram. The
commencement exercises were set for that day, and the distinguished
nominee was under promise to speak. Here were gathered his old friends
and neighbors. Here he had first met his wife. She, with the boys, was
now a part of her husband’s audience. Here was the scene of his early
struggles for discipline and distinction. Here he had been a
bell-ringer, a student, a college professor, a president. Here he had
seen the horizon of his orphanage and boyhood sink behind him, and the
horizon of an auspicious future rise upon his vision. Before the vast
throng of visitors and students, at the appointed hour, he rose and
delivered his address as follows:
“_Fellow-citizens, old neighbors and friends of many years_: It has
always given me pleasure to come back here and look upon these
faces. It has always given me new courage and new friends, for it
has brought back a large share of that richness which belongs to
those things out of which come the joys of life.
“While sitting here this afternoon, watching your faces and
listening to the very interesting address which has just been
delivered, it has occurred to me that the least thing you have, that
all men have enough of, is perhaps the thing that you care for the
least, and that is your leisure—the leisure you have to think; the
leisure you have to be let alone; the leisure you have to throw the
plummet into your mind, and sound the depth and dive for things
below; the leisure you have to walk about the towers yourself, and
find how strong they are or how weak they are, to determine what
needs building up; how to work, and how to know all that shall make
you the final beings you are to be. Oh, these hours of building!
“If the Superior Being of the universe would look down upon the
world to find the most interesting object, it would be the
unfinished, unformed character of the young man or young woman.
Those behind me have probably in the main settled this question.
Those who have passed into middle manhood and middle womanhood are
about what they shall always be, and there is but little left of
interest, as their characters are all developed.
“But to your young and your yet unformed natures, no man knows the
possibilities that lie before you in your hearts and intellects;
and, while you are working out the possibilities with that splendid
leisure that you need, you are to be most envied. I congratulate you
on your leisure. I commend you to treat it as your gold, as your
wealth, as your treasure, out of which you can draw all possible
treasures that can be laid down when you have your natures unfolded
and developed in the possibilities of the future.
“This place is too full of memories for me to trust myself to speak
upon, and I will not. But I draw again to-day, as I have for a
quarter of a century, life, evidence of strength, confidence and
affection from the people who gather in this place. I thank you for
the permission to see you and meet you and greet you as I have done
to-day.”
After this reunion with his old friends at Hiram, General Garfield was,
on the morning of the 12th of June, driven to Mentor and Painesville. At
both places he was received with great enthusiasm, and at the latter
place, in response to the speech of welcome, made the following
characteristic address:
“_Fellow-citizens and neighbors of Lake County_: I am exceedingly
glad to know that you care enough to come out on a hot day like
this, in the midst of your busy work, to congratulate me. I know it
comes from the hearts of as noble a people as lives on the earth.
[Cheers.] In my somewhat long public services there never has been a
time, in however great difficulties I may have been placed, that I
could not feel the strength that came from resting back upon the
people of the Nineteenth District. To know that they were behind me
with their intelligence, their critical judgment, their confidence
and their support was to make me strong in every thing I undertook
that was right. I have always felt your sharp, severe, and just
criticism, and my worthy, noble, supporting friends always did what
they believed was right. I know you have come here to-day not
altogether, indeed not nearly, for my sake, but for the sake of the
relations I am placed in to the larger constituency of the people of
the United States. It is not becoming in me to speak, nor shall I
speak, one word touching politics. I know you are here to-day
without regard to politics. I know you are all here as my neighbors
and my friends, and, as such, I greet you and thank you for this
candid and gracious welcome. [Cheers.] Thus far in my life I have
sought to do what I could according to my light. More than that I
could never hope to do. All of that I shall try to do, and if I can
continue to have the good opinion of my neighbors of this district,
it will be one of my greatest satisfactions. I thank you again,
fellow-citizens, for this cordial and generous welcome.” [Applause
and cheers.]
After some days of rest at his home, General Garfield repaired to
Washington City, where he arrived on the 15th day of June. Everywhere
along the route the railway stations and towns were crowded with people,
anxious to catch a glimpse and hear a word from the probable President.
Arriving at the Capital, he was, on the evening of the 16th, serenaded
at his hotel, and, responding to the cheers of the crowd, appeared on
the balcony and made the following happy speech:
“_Fellow-citizens_: While I have looked upon this great array, I
believe I have gotten a new idea of the majesty of the American
people. When I reflect that wherever you find sovereign power, every
reverent heart on this earth bows before it, and when I remember
that here for a hundred years we have denied the sovereignty of any
man, and in place of it we have asserted the sovereignty of all in
place of one, I see before me so vast a concourse that it is easy
for me to imagine that the rest of the American people are, gathered
here to-night, and if they were all here, every man would stand
uncovered, all in unsandaled feet in presence of the majesty of the
only sovereign power in this Government under Almighty God.
[Cheers.] And, therefore, to this great audience I pay the
respectful homage that in part belongs to the sovereignty of the
people. I thank you for this great and glorious demonstration. I am
not, for one moment, misled into believing that it refers to so poor
a thing as any one of our number. I know it means your reverence for
your Government, your reverence for its laws, your reverence for its
institutions, and your compliment to one who is placed for a moment
in relations to you of peculiar importance. For all these reasons I
thank you.
“I can not at this time utter a word on the subject of general
politics. I would not mar the cordiality of this welcome, to which
to some extent all are gathered, by any reference except to the
present moment and its significance; but I wish to say that a large
portion of this assemblage to-night are my comrades, late of the war
for the Union. For them I can speak with entire propriety, and can
say that these very streets heard the measured tread of your
disciplined feet, years ago, when the imperiled Republic needed your
hands and your hearts to save it, and you came back with your
numbers decimated; but those you left behind were immortal and
glorified heroes forever; and those you brought back came, carrying
under tattered banners and in bronze hands the ark of the covenant
of your Republic in safety out of the bloody baptism of the war
[cheers], and you brought it in safety to be saved forever by your
valor and the wisdom of your brethren who were at home; and by this
you were again added to the great civil army of the Republic. I
greet you, comrades and fellow-soldiers, and the great body of
distinguished citizens who are gathered here to-night, who are the
strong stay and support of the business, of the prosperity, of the
peace, of the civic ardor and glory of the Republic, and I thank you
for your welcome to-night. It was said in a welcome to one who came
to England to be a part of her glory—and all the nation spoke when
it was said:
“‘Normans and Saxons and Danes are we,
But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee.’
“And we say to-night, of all nations, of all the people, soldiers
and civilians, there is one name that welds us all into one. It is
the name of American citizen, under the union and under the glory of
the flag that led us to victory and to peace. [Applause.] For this
magnificent welcome I thank you with all there is in my heart.”
[Illustration: VIEW OF MENTOR.]
On the next evening after this address, General Garfield was given a
reception and banquet, at which were present many of the most
distinguished men of the nation. Then, after a brief stay at Washington,
he returned to Mentor, hoping to enjoy a respite from the excitements of
the hour. But there was little hope of rest for one who by the will of
the millions had thus been whirled into the blazing focus of
expectation.
On the 3d of July the Soldiers’ Monument at Painesville, Ohio, was
formally dedicated. General Garfield was present on the occasion, and
after the principal oration, was called upon to speak. His address
created great enthusiasm, especially among the veterans, who were
gathered in great numbers to hear their old leader. General Garfield
said:
“_Fellow-citizens_: I can not fail to respond on such an occasion,
in sight of such a monument to such a cause, sustained by such men.
[Applause and cheers.] While I have listened to what my friend has
said, two questions have been sweeping through my heart. One was,
‘What does the monument mean?’ and the other, ‘What will the
monument teach?’ Let me try and ask you for a moment, to help me
answer what does the monument mean. Oh! the monument means a world
of memories, a world of deeds, and a world of tears, and a world of
glories. You know, thousands know, what it is to offer up your life
to the country, and that is no small thing, as every soldier knows.
Let me put the question to you: For a moment suppose your country in
the awfully embodied form of majestic law, should stand above you
and say: ‘I want your life. Come up here on the platform and offer
it.’ How many would walk up before that majestic presence and say,
‘Here I am, take this life and use it for your great needs.’
[Applause.] And yet almost two millions of men made that answer
[applause], and a monument stands yonder to commemorate their
answer. That is one of its meanings. But, my friends, let me try you
a little further. To give up life is much, for it is to give up
wife, and home, and child, and ambition. But let me test you this
way further. Suppose this awfully majestic form should call out to
you, and say, ‘I ask you to give up health and drag yourself, not
dead, but half alive, through a miserable existence for long years,
until you perish and die in your crippled and hopeless condition. I
ask you to volunteer to do that,’ and it calls for a higher reach of
patriotism and self-sacrifice; but hundreds of thousands of you
soldiers did that. That is what the monument means also. But let me
ask you to go one step further. Suppose your country should say,
‘Come here, on this platform, and in my name, and for my sake,
consent to be idiots. [Voice—Hear, hear.] Consent that your very
brain and intellect shall be broken down into hopeless idiocy for my
sake.’ How many could be found to make that venture? And yet there
are thousands, and that with their eyes wide open to the horrible
consequences, obeyed that call.
“And let me tell how one hundred thousand of our soldiers were
prisoners of war, and to many of them when death was stalking near,
when famine was climbing up into their hearts, and idiocy was
threatening all that was left of their intellects, the gates of
their prison stood open every day, if they would quit, desert their
flag and enlist under the flag of the enemy; and out of one hundred
and eighty thousand not two per cent. ever received the liberation
from death, starvation and all that might come to them; but they
took all these horrors and all these sufferings in preference to
going back upon the flag of their country and the glory of its
truth. [Applause.] Great God! was ever such measure of patriotism
reached by any men on this earth before? [Applause.] That is what
your monument means. By the subtle chemistry that no man knows, all
the blood that was shed by our brethren, all the lives that were
devoted, all the grief that was felt, at last crystallized itself
into granite rendered immortal, the great truth for which they died
[applause], and it stands there to-day, and that is what your
monument means.
“Now, what does it teach? What will it teach? Why, I remember the
story of one of the old conquerors of Greece, who, when he had
traveled in his boyhood over the battle-fields where Miltiades had
won victories and set up trophies, returning said: ‘These trophies
of Miltiades will never let me sleep.’ Why? Something had taught him
from the chiseled stone a lesson that he could never forget; and,
fellow-citizens, that silent sentinel, that crowned granite column,
will look down upon the boys that will walk these streets for
generations to come, and will not let them sleep when their country
calls them. [Applause.] More than from the bugler on the field, from
his dead lips will go out a call that the children of Lake County
will hear after the grave has covered us and our immediate children.
That is the teaching of your monument. That is its lesson, and it is
the lesson of endurance for what we believe, and it is the lesson of
sacrifices for what we think—the lesson of heroism for what we mean
to sustain—and that lesson can not be lost to a people like this. It
is not a lesson of revenge; it is not a lesson of wrath; it is the
grand, sweet, broad lesson of the immortality of the truth that we
hope will soon cover, as the grand Shekinah of light and glory, all
parts of this Republic, from the lakes to the gulf. [Applause.] I
once entered a house in old Massachusetts, where, over its doors,
were two crossed swords. One was the sword carried by the
grandfather of its owner on the field of Bunker Hill, and the other
was the sword carried by the English grandsire of the wife, on the
same field, and on the other side of the conflict. Under those
crossed swords, in the restored harmony of domestic peace, lived a
happy, and contented, and free family, under the light of our
republican liberties. [Applause.] I trust the time is not far
distant when, under the crossed swords and the locked shields of
Americans North and South, our people shall sleep in peace, and rise
in liberty, love, and harmony under the union of our flag of the
Stars and Stripes.”
The next public utterance of General Garfield had been anxiously
awaited. Until now he had not found time to return a formal answer to
the committee, whose chairman had, on the evening of the 8th of June,
informed him of his nomination for the Presidency. On the 12th of July,
the General, from his home at Mentor, issued his letter of acceptance.
It was a document of considerable length, touching upon most of the
political questions of the day, and gave great satisfaction to his party
throughout the Union. The letter was as follows:
“MENTOR, OHIO, July 10th, 1880.
“_Dear Sir_: On the evening of the 8th of June last I had the honor
to receive from you, in the presence of the committee of which you
were chairman, the official announcement that the Republican
National Convention at Chicago had that day nominated me for their
candidate for President of the United States. I accept the
nomination with gratitude for the confidence it implies and with a
deep sense of the responsibilities it imposes. I cordially indorse
the principles set forth in the platform adopted by the convention.
On nearly all the subjects of which it treats my opinions are on
record among the published proceedings of Congress. I venture,
however, to make special mention of some of the principal topics
which are likely to become subjects of discussion, without reviewing
the controversies which have been settled during the last twenty
years, and with no purpose or wish to revive the passions of the
late war.
“It should be said that while Republicans fully recognize and will
strenuously defend all the rights retained by the people and all the
rights reserved to the States, they reject the pernicious doctrine
of State supremacy, which so long crippled the functions of the
National Government and at one time brought the Union very near to
destruction. They insist that the United States is a nation, with
ample power of self-preservation; that its Constitution and the laws
made in pursuance thereof are the supreme law of the land; that the
right of the nation to determine the method by which its own
legislature shall be created can not be surrendered without
abdicating one of the fundamental powers of the Government; that the
national laws relating to the election of representatives in
Congress shall neither be violated nor evaded; that every elector
shall be permitted freely and without intimidation to cast his
lawful ballot at such election and have it honestly counted, and
that the potency of his vote shall not be destroyed by the
fraudulent vote of any other person. The best thoughts and energies
of our people should be directed to those great questions of
national well-being in which we all have a common interest. Such
efforts will soonest restore perfect peace to those who were lately
in arms against each other, for justice and good-will will outlast
passion; but it is certain that the wounds can not be completely
healed and the spirit of brotherhood can not fully pervade the whole
country until every one of our citizens, rich or poor, white or
black, is secure in the free and equal enjoyment of every civil and
political right guaranteed by the Constitution and the laws.
Wherever the enjoyment of this right is not assured, discontent will
prevail, immigration will cease, and the social and industrial
forces will continue to be disturbed by the migration of laborers
and the consequent diminution of prosperity. The National Government
should exercise all its constitutional authority to put an end to
these evils, for all the people and all the States are members of
one body; and no member can suffer without injury to all.
“The most serious evils which now afflict the South arise from the
fact that there is not such freedom and toleration of political
opinion and action that the minority party can exercise an effective
and wholesome restraint upon the party in power. Without such
restraint party rule becomes tyrannical and corrupt. The prosperity
which is made possible in the South, by its great advantages of soil
and climate, will never be realized until every voter can freely and
safely support any party he pleases. Next in importance to freedom
and justice is popular education, without which neither justice nor
freedom can be permanently maintained. Its interests are intrusted
to the States and the voluntary action of the people. Whatever help
the nation can justly afford should be generously given to aid the
States in supporting common schools; but it would be unjust to our
people and dangerous to our institutions to apply any portion of the
revenues of the nation or of the States to the support of sectarian
schools. The separation of the Church and the State in every thing
relating to taxation should be absolute.
“On the subject of national finances my views have been so
frequently and fully expressed that little is needed in the way of
additional statement. The public debt is now so well secured, and
the rate of annual interest has been so reduced by refunding, that
rigid economy in expenditures and the faithful application of our
surplus revenues to the payment of the principal of the debt, will
gradually but certainly free the people from its burdens, and close
with honor the financial chapter of the war. At the same time the
Government can provide for all its ordinary expenditures, and
discharge its sacred obligations to the soldiers of the Union and to
the widows and orphans of those who fell in its defense. The
resumption of specie payments, which the Republican party so
courageously and successfully accomplished, has removed from the
field of controversy many questions that long and seriously
disturbed the credit of the Government and the business of the
country. Our paper currency is now as national as the flag, and
resumption has not only made it everywhere equal to coin, but has
brought into use our store of gold and silver. The circulating
medium is more abundant than ever before, and we need only to
maintain the equality of all our dollars to insure to labor and
capital a measure of value from the use of which no one can suffer
loss. The great prosperity which the country is now enjoying should
not be endangered by any violent change or doubtful financial
experiments.
“In reference to our custom laws, a policy should be pursued which
will bring revenues to the Treasury, and will enable the labor and
capital employed in our great industries to compete fairly in our
own markets with the labor and capital of foreign producers. We
legislate for the people of the United States, not for the whole
world; and it is our glory that the American laborer is more
intelligent and better paid than his foreign competitor. Our country
can not be independent unless its people, with their abundant
natural resources, possess the requisite skill at any time to
clothe, arm, and equip themselves for war, and in time of peace to
produce all the necessary implements of labor. It was the manifest
intention of the founders of the Government to provide for the
common defense, not by standing armies alone, but by raising among
the people a greater army of artisans, whose intelligence and skill
should powerfully contribute to the safety and glory of the nation.
“Fortunately for the interests of commerce there is no longer any
formidable opposition to appropriations for the improvement of our
harbors and great navigable rivers, provided that the expenditures
for that purpose are strictly limited to works of national
importance. The Mississippi River, with its great tributaries, is of
such vital importance to so many millions of people that the safety
of its navigation requires exceptional consideration. In order to
secure to the nation the control of all its waters, President
Jefferson negotiated the purchase of a vast territory, extending
from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean. The wisdom of Congress
should be invoked to devise some plan by which that great river
shall cease to be a terror to those who dwell upon its banks, and by
which its shipping may safely carry the industrial products of
twenty-five millions of people.
“The interests of agriculture, which is the basis of all our
material prosperity, and in which seven-twelfths of our population
are engaged, as well as the interests of manufactures and commerce,
demand that the facilities for cheap transportation shall be
increased by the use of all our great water courses. The material
interests of this country, the traditions of its settlement and the
sentiment of our people, have led the Government to offer the widest
hospitality to immigrants who seek our shores for new and happier
homes, willing to share the burdens as well as the benefits of our
society, and intending that their posterity shall become an
undistinguishable part of our population. The recent movement of the
Chinese to our Pacific coast partakes but little of the qualities of
such an immigration, either in its purposes or its result. It is too
much like an importation to be welcomed without restriction; too
much like an invasion to be looked upon without solicitude. We can
not consent to allow any form of servile labor to be introduced
among us under the guise of immigration. Recognizing the gravity of
this subject, the present administration, supported by Congress, has
sent to China a commission of distinguished citizens for the purpose
of securing such a modification of the existing treaty as will
prevent the evils likely to arise from the present situation. It is
confidently believed that these diplomatic negotiations will be
successful without the loss of that commercial intercourse between
the two great powers which promises a great increase of reciprocal
trade and the enlargement of our markets. Should these efforts fail,
it will be the duty of Congress to mitigate the evils already felt,
and prevent their increase by such restrictions as, without violence
or injustice, will place upon a sure foundation the peace of our
communities and the freedom and dignity of labor.
“The appointment of citizens to the various executive and judicial
offices of the Government is, perhaps, the most difficult of all
duties which the Constitution has imposed upon the Executive. The
convention wisely demands that Congress shall coöperate with the
Executive Department in placing the civil service on a better basis.
Experience has proved that, with our frequent changes of
administration, no system of reform can be made effective and
permanent without the aid of legislation. Appointments to the
military and naval service are so regulated by law and custom, as to
leave but little ground of complaint. It may not be wise to make
similar regulations by law for the civil service, but, without
invading the authority or necessary discretion of the Executive,
Congress should devise a method that will determine the tenure of
office, and greatly reduce the uncertainty which makes that service
so uncertain and unsatisfactory. Without depriving any officer of
his rights as a citizen, the Government should require him to
discharge all his official duties with intelligence, efficiency, and
faithfulness. To select wisely from our vast population those who
are best fitted for the many offices to be filled, requires an
acquaintance far beyond the range of any one man. The Executive
should, therefore, seek and receive the information and assistance
of those whose knowledge of the communities in which the duties are
to be performed, best qualifies them to aid in making the wisest
choice. The doctrines announced by the Chicago Convention are not
the temporary devices of a party to attract votes and carry an
election. They are deliberate convictions, resulting from a careful
study of the spirit of our institutions, the events of our history,
and the best impulses of our people. In my judgment, these
principles should control the legislation and administration of the
Government. In any event, they will guide my conduct until
experience points out a better way. If elected, it will be my
purpose to enforce strict obedience to the Constitution and the
laws, and to promote as best I may the interest and honor of the
whole country, relying for support upon the wisdom of Congress, the
intelligence and patriotism of the people, and the favor of God.
“With great respect, I am very truly yours,
“J. A. GARFIELD.
“To Hon. GEO. F. HOAR, Chairman of the Committee.”
The battle was now fairly on. The Democracy had, on the 23d day of June,
in convention at Cincinnati, nominated as their standard-bearer the
distinguished and popular soldier, Major-General Winfield S. Hancock.
This nomination was received by the General’s party with as much
satisfaction and enthusiasm as that of General Garfield had been by the
Republicans. Meanwhile, General James B. Weaver, of Iowa, had been
chosen to make the race by the National party, in a convention held in
Chicago, on the 9th of June. So that there were presented for the
suffrages of the people three eminent soldiers—all men of large
abilities, undoubted patriotism, and thorough soundness of character. It
was evident, however, from the opening of the campaign, that the contest
was narrowed to Generals Garfield and Hancock, with the chances in favor
of the former; and as the public mind became warmed up to the pitch of
battle, the chances of Garfield were augmented by almost every incident
of the fight. The platforms of the two parties had both been made with a
view to political advantage rather than to uphold any distinctive
principles. So the fight raged backwards along the line of the history
and traditions of the two parties rather than forward along the line of
the living political issues of the present and the future. In a modified
form the old questions of the war were revived and paraded. A delegate
in the Cincinnati Convention, allowing his zeal to run away with his
sense, had pledged a “Solid South” to the support of General Hancock.
This sectional utterance was a spark dropped among the old war memories
of the Union soldiers; and the politicians were quick to fan the flame
by suggesting that “a Solid South” ought to be confronted by “a Solid
North.” This line of argument, of course, meant ruin to the Democracy.
The Republican leaders virtually abandoned the Southern States, and
concentrated all their efforts upon the doubtful States of the Northern
border. Indiana became a critical battle-field; and here the political
fight was waged with the greatest spirit. Having a gubernatorial
election in October, it was foreseen that to carry this doubtful State
would be well nigh decisive of the contest, and to this end the best
talent of both parties was hurried into her borders. While these great
movements were taking place, General Garfield remained, for the most
part, at his quiet home at Mentor. On the 3d of August he attended the
dedication ceremonies of a soldiers’ monument at Geneva, Ohio. More than
ten thousand people were in attendance. After the principal address of
the day had been delivered, General Garfield was introduced, and spoke
as follows:
[Illustration: LAWNFIELD.—THE HOME OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD AT MENTOR.]
“_Fellow-citizens, Ladies and Gentlemen_: These gentlemen had no
right to print on a paper here that I was to make a speech, for the
types should always tell the truth. [A voice—They did it this time.]
They have not done it in this case; but I can not look out upon an
audience in Ashtabula County, recognizing so many old faces and old
friends, without at least making my bow to them, and saying
‘good-bye’ before I go. I can not either hear such a speech as that
to which I have just listened without thanking the man who made it
[applause] and the people who enabled him to make it [applause], for
after all no man can make a speech alone. It is the great human
power that strikes up from a thousand hearts that acts upon him and
makes the speech. [Applause.] It originates with those outside of
him, if he makes one at all, and every man that has stood on this
platform to-day has had a speech made out of him by you and by what
is yonder on your square. That’s the way speeches are made, and if I
had time to stay long enough, these forces with you might make one
out of me. [Applause.] Ideas are the only things in the universe
really immortal. Some people think that soldiers are chiefly
renowned for courage. That is one of the cheapest and commonest
qualities; we share it with the brutes. I can find you dogs and
bears and lions that will fight, and fight to the death, and will
tear each other. Do you call that warfare? Let me tell you the
difference. They are as courageous as any of these soldiers, if mere
brute courage is what you are after. The difference between them and
us is this: Tigers never hold reunions [laughter] to celebrate their
victories. When they have eaten the creature they have killed, that
is the only reunion they have ever held. [Laughter.] Wild beasts
never build monuments over their slain comrades. Why? Because there
are no ideas behind their warfares. Our race has ideas, and because
ideas are immortal, if they be true, we build monuments to them. We
hold reunions not for the dead, for there is nothing on all the
earth that you and I can do for the dead. They are past our help and
past our praise. We can not add more glory, and we can give them no
immortality. They do not need us, but forever and forever more we
need them. [Applause.] The glory that trails in the clouds behind
them after their sun has set, falls with its benediction upon us who
are left [applause], and it is to commemorate the immortality of the
ideas for which they fought, that you assemble to-day and dedicate
your monument, that points up toward God who leads them in the glory
of the great world beyond. Around these ideas, under the leadership
of these ideas, we assemble to-day, reverently to follow, reverently
to acknowledge the glory they achieved and the benediction they left
behind them. That is the meaning of an assembly like this, and to
join in it, to meet you, my old neighbors and constituents, to share
with you the memories that we have heard rehearsed and the
inspiration that this day points to, that this monument celebrates,
is to me a joy, and for it I am grateful to you.”
Immediately after this address at Geneva, General Garfield took his
departure for New York, where it had been determined to hold a
conference of the principal Republican leaders, relative to the conduct
of the pending campaign. The standard-bearer participated in the council
of his friends, adding not a little by his presence and unflagging
spirits to the zeal and enthusiasm of those upon whose efforts so much
depended. On the 7th he left the city for Lake Chautauqua, where he had
decided to spend a day at the great Sunday-school encampment and other
lakeside resorts. He was received with the greatest good-will by the
thousands assembled at Jamestown and Chautauqua; and on the eve of his
departure was induced, in response to salutations and cheers, to make
the following brief address:
“_Fellow-citizens_: You have done so much to me since I arrived on
this shore, that I am quite unable to tell what sort of man I am
this morning. [Laughter.] I had never been here, and really did not
know what you were doing. Last evening I asked Mr. Vincent, rather
brusquely, to tell me what Chautauqua means—what your work here
means—and he filled me so full of your ideas that I have not yet
assimilated it so as to be quite sure what manner of man I am since
I got hold of it. But this I see, you are struggling with one of the
two great problems of civilization. The first one is a very old
question—‘How shall we get leisure?’ That is the object of every
hammer stroke, of every blow that labor has struck since the
foundation of the world. [Applause.] The fight for bread is a great
primal fight, and it is so absorbing a struggle that until one
conquers to some extent he can have no leisure. We may divide the
struggles of the human race into two chapters: First, the fight to
get leisure, and, second, what to do with our leisure when we have
won it. It looks to me that Chautauqua has solved the second
problem. [Applause.] Like all blessings, leisure is a very bad thing
unless it is well used. The man with a fortune ready made, and with
leisure on his hands, is likely to get sick of the world, sick of
himself, tired of life, and to become a useless, wasted man. What
shall you do with your leisure? I understand Chautauqua is trying to
develop new energies, largeness of mind and culture in a better
sense, ‘with the varnish scratched off,’ as our friend, Dr.
Kirkwood, says. [Applause.] We are getting over the fashion of
painting and varnishing our native woods. We are getting down to the
real grain, and finding whatever is best and most beautiful in it,
and if Chautauqua is helping to develop in our people the native
stuff that is in them rather than to give them varnish and gewgaws
of culture, it is doing well. Chautauqua, therefore, has filled me
with thought, and, in addition to that, you have filled me with
gratitude for your kindness and for this great spontaneous greeting
in early morning, earlier than men of leisure get up. [Laughter.]
Some of these gentlemen of the press around me looked distressed at
the early rising by which you have compelled our whole party to look
at the early sun. [Laughter.] This greeting on the lake slope toward
the sun is very precious to me, and I thank you all. This is a mixed
audience of citizens, and I will not offend the proprieties of the
occasion by discussing controverted questions or entering upon any
political discussion. I look in the faces of men of all shades of
opinion, but whatever our party affiliation, I trust there is in all
this audience that love of our beneficent institutions which makes
it possible for free labor to earn leisure, and for our institutions
to make that leisure worth something [applause]—our Union and our
institutions, under the blessing of equal laws, equal to all colors
and all conditions, an open career for every man, however humble, to
rise to whatever place the power of a strong arm, the strength of a
clear head, and the aspirations of a pure heart can do to lift him.
That prospect ought to inspire every young man in this vast
audience. [Applause.] I heard yesterday and last night the songs of
those who were lately redeemed from slavery, and I felt that there,
too, was one of the great triumphs of the Republic. [Applause.] I
believe in the efficiency of the forces that come down from the ages
behind us, and I wondered if the tropical sun had not distilled its
sweetness, and if the sorrow of centuries of slavery had not
distilled its sadness into verses, which were touching, sweet
verses, to sing the songs of liberty as they sing them wherever they
go. [Applause.]
“I thank that choir for the lesson they have taught me here, and
now, fellow-citizens, thanking you all, good-bye.” [Applause.]
On the 9th of the month General Garfield returned to his home, where he
again sought a respite from the uproar and tumult of publicity which
followed him everywhere. On the 25th of August, a reunion of his old
regiment, the Forty-second Ohio, was held at Ashland, and the General
could but accept an invitation to share the occasion with his former
comrades in arms. The old soldiers passed a resolution, declaring it an
honor that their former Colonel had become the conspicuous man of the
nation, and commending him to the world as a model of all soldierly
virtues. He was elected President of the Regimental Association for the
ensuing year, and was thereupon called out for an address. The General
spoke as follows:
“_Fellow-citizens_: This is a family gathering, a military family,
for in war a regiment is to the army what a family is to the whole
civilized community. [Here a portion of the platform fell.] A
military reunion without some excitement and some accident would be
altogether too monotonous and tame to be interesting, and in this
good-natured audience we can have a good many accidents like that
and still keep quiet and be happy.
“I said this is a family reunion, an assembly of the Forty-second
military family, and it is well for us to meet here. Nineteen years
ago I met a crowd of earnest citizens in that court-room above
stairs. Your bell was rung, your people came out. The teacher of
your schools was among them. The boys of the school were there, and
after we had talked together a little while, about our country and
its imperiled flag, the teacher of the schools offered himself to
his country, and twenty of his boys with him. They never went back
into the school-house again; but in the dark days of November, 1861,
they and enough Ashland County boys to make one hundred went down
with me to Columbus to join another one hundred that had gone before
them from Ashland County, and these two hundred of your children
stood in the center of our military family and bore these old
banners that you see tattered before you to-day. One of them was
given to our family by the ladies of Ashland, and Company C, from
Ashland, carried it well. It was riddled by bullets and torn by
underbrush. Flapped by the winds of rebellion, it came back
tattered, as you see, but with never a stain upon its folds, and
never a touch of dishonor upon it anywhere; and the other of these
banners was given us by the special friends of Company A, in my old
town of Hiram, the student company from the heart of the Western
Reserve, and it also shared like its fellows, the fate, and came
home covered with the glory of the conflict.
“We were a family, I say again, and we did not let partisan politics
disturb us then, and we do not let partisanship enter our circle
here to-day.
“We did not quarrel about controversies outside of our great work.
We agreed to be brethren for the Union, under the flag, against all
its enemies everywhere, and brothers to all men who stood with us
under the flag to fight for the Union, whatever their color of skin,
whatever their previous politics, whatever their religion. In that
spirit we went out; in that spirit we returned; and we are glad to
be in Ashland to-day, for it is one of the homes of our regiment,
where we were welcomed in the beginning and have always been welcome
since. We are grateful for the welcome tendered us to-day by this
great assembly of our old neighbors and friends of Ashland County.
“Now, fellow-citizens, a regiment like a family has the right to be
a little clannish and exclusive. It does not deny the right of any
other family to the same privileges, but it holds the members of its
own family a little nearer and a little dearer than any other family
in the world. And so the Forty-second Regiment has always been a
band of brothers. I do not this day know a Forty-second man in the
world who hates another Forty-second man. There never was a serious
quarrel inside the regiment. There was never a serious disagreement
between its officers. The worst thing I have ever heard said against
it is that all its three field officers came home alive. And they
are all here on this stand to-day. It was, perhaps, a little against
us that no one of us had the honor to get killed or seriously
crippled; but we hold that it was not altogether our fault, and we
trust that some day or other you will have forgiven us, if you have
not to-day, for being alive and all here together.
“I want to say another thing about the soldiers’ work. I know of
nothing in all the circle of human duty that so unites men as the
common suffering and danger and struggle that war brings upon a
regiment. You can not know a man so thoroughly and so soon as by the
tremendous tests to which war subjects him. These men knew each
other by sight long before they knew each other by heart; but before
they got back home they knew each other, as you sometimes say you
know a son, ‘by heart;’ for they had been tested by fire; they had
been tested by starvation; they had been tested by the grim presence
of death, and each knew that those who remained were union men; men
that in all the hard, close chances of life, had the stuff in them
that enabled them to stand up in the very extremes they did; and
stand up ready to die. And such men, so tried and so acquainted,
never got over it; and the rest of the world must permit them to be
just a little clannish towards each other; the rest of the world
will not think we are narrow when they consider this particular
fault of ours; a little closer to us than any of the rest of the
world in a military way.
“Now, fellow-citizens, we are here to look into your faces, to enjoy
your hospitality, to revive our old memories of the place, but, for
more than any thing else, to look into each other’s faces, and
revive old memories of a great many places less pleasing and
home-like than Ashland. We have been meeting together in this way
for nearly fifteen years, and we have made a pledge to each other
that as long as there are two of us left to shake hands, we will
meet and greet the survivor. Some of us felt a little hurt about ten
years ago when the papers spoke of us as the survivors of the
Forty-second Regiment. We were survivors it was true, but we thought
we were so surviving that it need not be put at us, as though we
were about to die. Now, I don’t know how it is with the rest of you.
Most of mankind grow old, and you can see it in their faces. I see
here and there a bald head, like my own, or a white one, like
Captain Gardner’s, but to me these men will be boys till they die.
We call them boys; we meet and greet them as boys, even though they
become very old boys, and in that spirit of young, hopeful, daring
manhood we expect to meet them so long as we live. Nothing can get
us a great way from each other while we live. I am glad to meet
these men here to-day. [Here another portion of the platform broke
down, precipitating General Garfield and two or three of the
reporters to the ground.] Continuing, he said: I was glad also that
there was not any body hurt when that broke, and nobody made
unhappy, and I will conclude all I wanted to say, more than I
intended to say, by adding this: These men went out without one
single touch of revenge in their hearts. They went out to maintain
this Union and make it immortal; to put their own immortal lives
into it, and to make it possible that the people of Ashland should
make the monogram of the United States, as you see it up there
(pointing to the monogram on the building), a wreath of Union inside
of a very large N, a capital N, that stands for Nation, a Nation so
large that it includes the ‘U. S. A.’ all the people of the
Republic, and will include it for evermore; that is what we meant
then and is what we mean now.
“And now, fellow-citizens and soldiers of the Forty-second
Regiment—for I have been talking mainly to you, and if any of this
crowd have overheard I am not particularly to blame for it—I say,
fellow-citizens and comrades, I greet you to-day with great
satisfaction and bid you a cordial good-bye.”
Two days later General Garfield was present at a reunion of an artillery
company, held at Mentor, and since they had composed a part of the force
with which Thomas stayed at last the furious onset at Chickamauga, their
old chief of staff was all the more willing to say a few words for their
edification. This he did as follows:—
“_Comrades_: This is really the first time I have met this battery
as an organization since the Sunday evening of the terrible battle
of Chickamauga, nearly seventeen years ago. I last saw you there in
the most exposed angle of that unfortunate line, broken by the
combined forces of Bragg and Longstreet. I then saw you gallantly
fighting under the immediate direction of General Thomas, to reform
that broken line, and hold the exultant rebel host in check until
the gallant Steedman with reinforcements swept them back into the
dark valley of the Chickamauga. I am now able to distinguish among
your numbers faces which I saw there in that terrible hour. But how
changed! I now see you here with your wives, children, and friends,
peaceably enjoying this grand reception of your friends and
neighbors here assembled to honor and entertain you.
“But nothing so attracts my attention as your young and active
appearance. It is more than eighteen years since you left for the
war, and yet you are not old. Indeed, many of you appear almost like
boys. This I am pleased to observe; for if there be any men upon the
face of the earth who deserve an extension of time, it is you who,
in early manhood, so freely gave your services to your country, that
it might live. Nothing can be more proper than these annual
reunions. I am aware of the reputation which this organization, as
well as my own regiment, always enjoyed of unity and good fellowship
among its officers and men. May you, therefore, continue to enjoy
and perpetuate that friendship to the very latest hour of your
lives.”
General Garfield had now to learn that the people in their eagerness,
and especially the politicians in their unselfish devotion, had decreed
him no further rest, even at Lawnfield. Pilgrimages to Mentor became the
order of the day. For meanwhile the October elections had been held, and
all had gone triumphantly for the Republicans. Indiana, chief of the
so-called “doubtful States,” had whirled into line with an unequivocal
majority. Ohio had put a quietus on all hopes of the Democracy to carry
her electoral votes for Hancock. The high-blown anticipations of the
friends of “the superb soldier” were shockingly shattered. And so all
the paths of political preferment led to Mentor; and all the paths were
trodden by way-worn pilgrims, who, with sandal-shoon and scallop-shell
urged their course thither to see him who was now their hope. On the
19th of October a train of these pilgrims, rather more notable than the
rest, came in from Indiana. It was the Lincoln Club of Indianapolis,
four hundred strong. They were uniformed, and wore grotesque cockades
extemporized out of straw hats into a sort of three-cornered
conspicuity. The General was, none the less, greatly pleased with his
visitors, and spared no pains to make their brief stay at Mentor a
pleasure, if not a profit. The club was formally introduced by Captain
M. G. McLean, and in response General Garfield said:—
“_Gentlemen_: You come as bearers of dispatches, so your chairman
tells me. I am glad to hear the news you bring, and exceedingly glad
to see the bringers of the news. Your uniform, the name of your
club, the place from which you come, are all full of suggestions.
You recollect the verses that were often quoted about the old
Continental soldiers: “The old three-cornered hat and breeches, and
all that were so queer.” Your costume brings back to our memory the
days of the Continentals of 1776, whose principles I hope you
represent. You are called the Lincoln Club, and Lincoln was himself
a revival, a restoration of the days of ’76 and their doctrines. The
great Proclamation of Emancipation, which he penned, was a second
Declaration of Independence—broader, fuller, the New Testament of
human liberty; and then you come from Indiana, supposed to be a
Western State, but yet in its traditions older than Ohio. More than
one hundred years ago a gallant Virginian went far up into your
wilderness, captured two or three forts, took down the British flag,
and reared the Stars and Stripes. Vincennes and Cahokia, and a post
in Illinois, were a part of the capture. Your native State was one
of the first fruits of that splendid fighting power which gave the
whole West to the United States, and now these representatives of
Indiana come representing the Revolution in your hats, representing
Abraham Lincoln in your badges, and representing the victory both of
the Revolution and of Lincoln in the news you bring. I could not be
an American and fail to welcome your costumes, your badges, your
news and yourselves. Many Indiana men were my comrades in the days
of the war. I remember a regiment of them that was under my command
near Corinth, when it seemed necessary for the defense of our forces
to cut down a little piece of timber—seventy-five acres. We unboxed
for my brigade about four thousand new axes, and the Fifty-first
Regiment of Indiana Volunteers chopped down more trees in half a day
than I supposed it was possible could fall in any forest in a week.
It appears that in the great political forest from which you have
just come, your axes have been busy again. I especially welcome the
axmen of the Fifty-first Regiment, who may happen to be here, and
thank you all, gentlemen, for the compliment of your visit, and for
the good news you bring. I do not prize that news half so much for
its personal relations to you and to me, as I do because it is a
revival of the spirit of 1776, the spirit of Abraham Lincoln, the
spirit of universal liberty, and the spirit of just and equal law
all over this land. That gives your news its greatest significance.
Gentlemen, I thank you again, and shall be glad to take you by the
hand.”
After the speeches, the members of the Lincoln Club all had the pleasure
of shaking the hand of General Garfield, and of hearing an individual
welcome from his lips.
Two days afterwards, the Cuyahoga Veteran Corps came on a similar
pilgrimage to Lawnfield, and were similarly well received. General M. D.
Leggett, commander of the corps, made the introductory address; and, in
answer, General Garfield said:
“_Comrades_: Any man that can see twelve hundred comrades in his
front-door yard has as much reason to be proud as for any thing that
can well happen to him in this world. After that has happened, he
need not much care what else happens, or what else don’t happen. To
see twelve hundred men, from almost every regiment of the State, and
from regiments and brigades and divisions of almost every other
State—to see the consolidated field report of the survivors of the
war, sixteen years after it is over—is a great sight for any man to
look on. I greet you all with gratitude for this visit. Its personal
compliment is great.
“But there is another thought in it far greater than that to me and
greater to you. Just over yonder about ten miles, when I was a mere
lad, I heard the first political speech of my life. It was a speech
that Joshua R. Giddings was making. He had come home to appeal to
his constituents. A Southern man drew a pistol on him while he was
speaking in favor of human liberty, and marched over toward him to
shoot him down, to stop his speech and quench the voice of liberty.
I remember but one thing that the old hero said in the course of
that speech so long ago, and it was this: ‘I knew I was speaking for
liberty, and I felt that if the assassin had shot me down, my speech
would still go on and triumph.’ Well, now, gentlemen, there are
twelve hundred, and the hundred times twelve hundred—the million of
men that went out into the field of battle to fight for our
Union—felt just as that speaker felt—that if they should all be shot
down the cause of liberty would still go on. You and all the Union
felt that around you, and above you, and behind you, were a force
and a cause and an immortal truth that would outlive your bodies and
mine, and survive all our brigades and all our armies and all our
battles. Here you are to-day in the same belief. We shall all die,
and yet we believe that after us the immortal truths for which we
fought will live in a united Nation, a united people against all
factions, against all section, against all division, so long as
there shall be a continent of rivers and mountains and lakes. It was
that great belief that lifted you all up into the heroic height of
great soldiers in the war, and it is that belief that you cherish
to-day, and carry with you in all your pilgrimages and in all your
reunions. In that great belief, and in that inspiring faith, I meet
you and greet you to-day, and with it we will go on to whatever fate
has in store for us all.
“I thank you, comrades, for this demonstration of your faith and
confidence and regard for me. Why, gentlemen, this home of mine will
never be the same place again. I am disposed to think that a man
does not take every thing away from a place when he takes his body
away. It was said that long after the death of the first Napoleon,
his soldiers believed that on certain anniversary days he came out
and reviewed all his dead troops, he himself being dead; that he had
a midnight review of those that had fought and fallen under his
leadership. That, doubtless, was a fiction of the imagination; but I
shall have to believe in all time hereafter the character and spirit
and impressions of my comrades live on this turf, and under these
trees, and in this portal; and it will be a part of my comradeship
in all days to come.”
On the 28th of the month a delegation of Portage County citizens, two
hundred strong, headed by Judge Luther Day, of Ravenna, visited Mentor,
and paid the customary respects to him who was now regarded as well nigh
certain to carry away the greatest honor known to the American people.
After the company was formally introduced by Judge Day, the General, in
response, said:
“_Judge Day, Ladies and Gentlemen_: I once read of a man who tried
to wear the armor and wield the sword of some ancient ancestor, but
found them too large for his stature and strength. If I should try
at this moment to wear and sway the memories which your presence
awakens, I should be overwhelmed, and wholly unable to marshal and
master the quick-coming throng of memories which this semicircle of
old friends and neighbors has brought to me. Here are school-fellows
of twenty-eight years ago. Here are men and women who were my pupils
a quarter of a century ago. Here are venerable men who, twenty one
years ago, in the town of Kent, launched me upon the stormy sea of
political life. I see others who were soldiers in the old regiment
which I had the honor to command, and could I listen to the teaching
and thoughtful words of my friend, the venerable late Chief Justice
of Ohio, who has just spoken, without remembering that evening in
1861, of which he spoke too modestly, when he and I stood together
in the old church at Hiram, and called upon the young men to go
forth to battle for the Union, and be enlisted before they slept,
and thus laid the foundation of the Forty-second Regiment? How can I
forget all these things, and all that has followed? How can I forget
that twenty-five years of my life were so braided and intertwined
with the lives of the people of Portage County, when I see men and
women from all its townships standing at my door? I can not forget
these things while life and consciousness remain. No other period of
my life can be like this. The freshness of youth, the very
springtide of life, the brightening on toward noonday—all were with
you and of you, my neighbors, my friends, my cherished comrades, in
all the relations of social, student, military and political life
and friendship. You are here, so close to my heart that I can not
trust myself to an attempt to marshal these memories with any thing
like coherence. To know that my neighbors and friends in Portage
County, since the first day of my Congressional life, have never
sent to any convention a delegate who was hostile to me; that
through all the storm of detraction that roared around me, the
members of the old guard of Portage County have never wavered in
their faith and friendship, but have stood an unbroken phalanx with
their locked shields above my head, and have given me their hearts
in every contest. If a man can carry in his memory a jewel more
precious than this, I am sure Judge Day has never heard what it is.
“Well, gentlemen, on the eve of great events, closing a great
campaign, I look into your faces and draw from you such consolation
as even you can not understand. Whatever the event may be, our post
is secure, and whatever may befall me hereafter, if I can succeed in
keeping the hearts of Portage County near to me I shall know that I
do not go far wrong in any thing, for they are men who love the
truth for truth’s sake, far more than they love any man.
“Ladies and gentlemen, all the doors of my house are open to you.
The hand of every member of my family is outstretched to you. Our
hearts greet you, and we ask you to come in.”
In the meantime there had occurred the most remarkable episode of the
campaign. On the 21st of October appeared in the columns of a New York
newspaper called _Truth_, a letter purporting to have been written on
the 23d of January, 1880, to one H. L. Morey, of Lynn, Massachusetts.
The communication was ostensibly a reply to a letter written to General
Garfield with the purpose of obtaining his views on the great question
of the Chinese in the United States, and more particularly to extract
his ideas on the subject of Chinese cheap labor. This previous
supposititious letter of Morey was never produced, but only the alleged
answer of General Garfield, which was as follows:
“HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, }
WASHINGTON, D. C., January 23, 1880. }
“_Dear Sir_: Yours in relation to the Chinese problem came duly to
hand. I take it that the question of employes is only a question of
private and corporate economy. Individuals or companies have the
right to buy labor where they can get it the cheapest. We have a
treaty with the Chinese Government, which should be religiously kept
until its provisions are abrogated by the action of the General
Government, and I am not prepared to say that it should be abrogated
until our great manufacturing interests are conserved in the matter
of labor.
Very truly yours,
“J. A. GARFIELD.
“To H. L. MOREY, Employers’ Union, Lynn, Mass.”
[Illustration: FAC-SIMILE OF THE MOREY LETTER.]
[Illustration: FAC-SIMILE OF GARFIELD’S LETTER OF DENIAL.]
It was instantly manifested, on the appearance of this letter, that its
almost certain effect would be to lose General Garfield the electoral
votes of the Pacific States; for the settled sentiment of those States
against Chinese immigration and the consequent competition of that
people with American free labor, was known to be so pronounced as to
make it sure that no party discipline could hold them in allegiance to a
candidate who squinted at favoring the Celestials. There was instant
alarm among the General’s friends, but their fears were quickly quieted
by the prompt action of Garfield himself, who immediately sent to Hon.
Marshall Jewell, Chairman of the Republican National Committee, the
following dispatch:
“MENTOR, O., October 22, 1880.
“_To Hon. M. Jewell and Hon. S. W. Dorsey_:
“I will not break the rule I have adopted by making a public reply
to campaign lies, but I authorize you to denounce the so-called
Morey letter as a bold forgery, both in its language and sentiment.
Until its publication I never heard of the existence of the
Employers’ Union of Lynn, Massachusetts, nor of such a person as H.
L. Morey.
“J. A. GARFIELD.”
The mails of the same day brought to General Garfield a copy of the
_Truth_ newspaper, containing a lithographic fac-simile of his alleged
letter, and to this he made immediate answer as follows:
MENTOR, O., October 23, 1880.
“_To Hon. Marshall Jewell_:
“Your telegram of this afternoon is received. Publish my dispatch of
last evening, if you think best. Within the last hour the mail has
brought me a lithographic copy of the forged letter. It is the work
of some clumsy villain who can not spell nor write English, nor
imitate my handwriting. Every honest and manly Democrat in America,
who is familiar with my handwriting, will denounce the forgery at
sight. Put the case in the hands of the ablest detectives at once,
and hunt the rascal down.
“J. A. GARFIELD.”
The question of veracity was thus broadly opened between General
Garfield and the mythical Morey and his backers. It did not take the
American people long to decide between them. Except in the columns of
extreme and reckless partisan newspapers and in the months of
irresponsible demagogues, the matter was laid forever to rest. To
convince the people that James A. Garfield was a liar was an up-hill
work. The Republicans simply said that the Morey letter was an
outrageous fraud, a forged expedient, a last resort to stay a lost
cause.
In the investigation the following facts clearly appeared:
1. That no such person as H. L. Morey lived at or near Lynn,
Massachusetts, at the time when the alleged Garfield letter was written.
2. That no such association as the supposed Morey pretended to
represent, ever existed in Lynn.
3. The fac-simile of the letter printed in the columns of _Truth_
showed, on close examination, all the internal evidences of forgery. It
was a coarse and easily detected counterfeit of the General’s
handwriting and signature, and contained, among other palpable
absurdities, the word “companies,” spelled _companys_—a blunder utterly
at variance with General Garfield’s scholarship and careful literary
habit.
4. The fact that the sentiments of the letter were in broad and palpable
contradiction of Garfield’s letter of acceptance and other public
utterances on the Chinese question.
5. General Garfield’s positive and unreserved denial of authorship.
This put the abettors of the Morey business on the defensive, and they
squirmed not a little. They said that Morey was dead; which was a
necessary thing to say. They declared themselves innocent of all
complicity. The letter had come into their hands in the regular way.
They _believed_ it to be true, etc. But all these allegations combined
would not suffice to stay the inevitable reaction; for say what you
will, do not the American people believe in fair play?
According to General Garfield’s expressed desire, the Morey case was
carried to the courts. A certain Kenward Philp, a contributor to
_Truth_, was charged with the forgery and arrested.
The grand jury in General Sessions presented an indictment against
Joseph Hart, Louis A. Post, Kenward Philp and Charles A. Bryne for
publishing in the newspaper _Truth_ a criminal libel on General
Garfield.
A long trial followed in the court of Oyer and Terminer, of New York.
The suit was at first directed against the editors of _Truth_, and Philp
was thus unearthed. As the trial progressed, although the evidence was
inconclusive as to Philp’s authorship of the letter, yet every
circumstance tended to show unmistakably that the whole affair had been
a cunning conspiracy of some prodigious scoundrel to injure General
Garfield’s chances for the Presidency.
The production of the letter and its envelope in Court betrayed at once
the tampering to which the latter had been subjected, and settled the
character of the disgraceful political maneuver which had given it
birth. The alleged forger proved to be an English Bohemian, who
contributed to the “story papers,” and who confessedly wrote the
editorial articles defending the genuineness of the letter in the
underground journal which first published it. The register of the
Kirtland House, at Lynn, Massachusetts, was produced by the defense, and
the name “H. L. Morey” was shown there in October, 1879, and again in
February of 1880. But there was the most circumstantial evidence that
the name had been recently written on each page of the register. The
name had, undoubtedly, been added to the hotel register in each instance
by some one who was anxious to bolster up the fraud.
The discovery was made that the envelope containing the forged letter
had originally been addressed to some one else than H. L. Morey; and an
enlarged photographic copy of the envelope revealed the fact that the
original name was Edward or Edwin Fox or Cox, in care of some company in
the city of New York. And in the next place it was shown that Edward Fox
was employed upon the _Truth_!
The prosecution failed to convict the publishers of the _Truth_ of
criminal libel; but the country rendered again the old Scotch verdict of
“Guilty—but not proven.” The Presidential election, however, was
imminent, and it is not improbable that General Garfield’s vote on the
Pacific Slope was injured by the base machinations of the Morey
conspirators.
On the 2d of November was held the Presidential election. The result had
been foreseen. The Democracy could not stem the tide. The “Solid South,”
the unfortunate plank in their platform declaring in favor of “a tariff
for revenue only,” and the Morey forgery which had been charged up to
their account, wrought their ruin. Garfield was overwhelmingly elected.
The morning of the 3d revealed the general outline of the result. For a
few days it was claimed by the Republicans that they had carried two or
three of the Southern States, but this idea was soon dispelled. In a
like unprofitable way the Democrats set up certain and sundry claims for
some of the Northern States. One day they had carried New York; another
day they had authentic information that California and Oregon were safe
for Hancock. It was all in vain. The South all went Democratic, and all
of the Northern States, except Nevada and one electoral vote from
California, had been secured by the Republicans. The victory was
unequivocal. The humble boy of Mother Garfield was elected President of
the United States by 214 electoral votes against 155 for his antagonist,
General Hancock. Thus, under the benign institutions of our country, was
conferred upon one who began his life in a log cabin the highest civic
honor known among the nations of the earth.
General Garfield spent election day at home without manifest excitement.
In the evening, and later in the night, news began to arrive indicative
of the result. Still no agitation. To some friends he said: “I have been
busying myself with a calculation to determine the rate of voting
to-day. During the hours in which the election has been in progress
about 2000 ballots have dropped for every tick of the pendulum.” With
the morning light there was no longer doubt. The title of General, won
on the bloody field of Chickamauga, had given place to that of
President-elect, won before the grandest bar of public opinion under the
circle of the sun.
On the day succeeding the election, the first delegation bearing
congratulations visited Mentor. It was composed of the Oberlin College
faculty and students, headed by President Fairchild, and the occasion
was one of more than usual interest. In reply to the speech of
introduction, General Garfield said:
“_Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen_: This spontaneous visit is so
much more agreeable than a prepared one. It comes more directly from
the heart of the people who participate, and I receive it as a
greater compliment for that reason. I do not wish to be unduly
impressible or superstitious, but, though we have outlived the days
of the augurs, I think we have a right to think of some events as
omens; and I greet this as a happy and auspicious omen, that the
first general greeting since the event of yesterday is tendered to
me by a venerable institution of learning. The thought has been
abroad in the world a good deal, and with reason, that there is a
divorce between scholarship and politics. Oberlin, I believe, has
never advocated that divorce. But there has been a sort of
cloistered scholarship in the United States that has stood aloof
from active participation in public affairs, and I am glad to be
greeted here to-day by the active, live scholarship of Ohio; and I
know of no place where scholarship has touched upon the nerve center
of the public so effectually as Oberlin. For this reason I am
specially grateful for this greeting from the Faculty and students
of Oberlin College and its venerable and venerated President. I
thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for this visit. Whatever the
significance of yesterday’s event may be, it will be all the more
significant for being immediately indorsed by the scholarship and
culture of my State. I thank you, ladies and gentlemen, and thank
your President for coming with you. You are cordially welcome.”
On the 6th of November the Republican Central Committee of Indiana
repaired to Mentor and paid their respects to the coming Chief
Magistrate; and on the 12th of the month the President, soon-to-be, was
visited by the Republican Central Committee of Cuyahoga County. In
answer to their salutation he said:
“_Gentlemen_: I have been saying a good many things during the past
few weeks, and think I should be nearly through talking by this
time. I should be the listener. But I can not refrain from saying
that I am exceedingly glad to meet with you, a company of
Republicans from my native county, and congratulate you upon what
you have done. You have shown your strength and character in your
work. You have shown that you are men of high convictions and
observe them in all that you do. I have always taken pride in this
county and in the city of Cleveland. The Forest City is well worthy
to be the capital of the Western Reserve. It has the credit of our
country at heart, never losing sight of it in the heat of political
warfare. In no city in the country can be found more active and
earnest men—solid business men. It is an honor to any one to have
the confidence of such a people. I am glad to be here this evening
to greet you and thank you for your kind invitation.” [Applause.]
Garfield had now more offices in prospect or actual possession than
usually fall to the lot of one man. He was still a member of the House
of Representatives in the Forty-sixth Congress; he was also United
States Senator-elect for the State of Ohio; and, thirdly, he was
President-elect of the United States. On the 10th of November, being
perhaps content with the Presidency, he resigned his seats in the House
and Senate, and thus for about four months became Citizen Garfield, of
Ohio.
The 2d of December was rather a Red-letter day at Mentor. The
Presidential electors for the State of Ohio, on that day called on the
President-elect and tendered their best regards. In answer to their
congratulations he spoke with much animation and feeling as follows:
“_Gentlemen_: I am deeply grateful to you for this call, and for
these personal and public congratulations. If I were to look upon
the late campaign and its result merely in the light of a personal
struggle and a personal success, it would probably be as gratifying
as any thing could be in the history of politics. If my own conduct
during the campaign has been in any way a help and a strength to our
cause, I am glad. It is not always an easy thing to behave well. If,
under trying circumstances, my behavior as a candidate has met your
approval, I am greatly gratified. But the larger subject—your
congratulations to the country on the triumph of the Republican
party—opens a theme too vast for me to enter upon now.
“I venture, however, to mention a reflection which has occurred to
me in reference to the election of yesterday. I suppose that no
political event has happened in all the course of the contest since
the early spring, which caused so little excitement, and, indeed, so
little public observation, as the Presidential election which was
held yesterday at midday. The American people paid but little
attention to the details of the real Presidential election, and for
a very significant reason: although you and all the members of the
Electoral Colleges had absolute constitutional and technical right
to vote for any body you chose, and although no written law directed
or suggested your choice, yet every American knew that the august
sovereign of this Republic—the 9,000,000 of voters—on an early day
in November had pronounced the omnipotent fiat of choice; and that
sovereign, assuming as done that which he had ordered to be done,
entertained no doubt but that his will would be implicitly obeyed by
all the Colleges in all the States. That is the reason why the
people were so serenely quiet yesterday. They had never yet found an
American who failed to keep his trust as a Presidential Elector.
“From this thought I draw this lesson: that when that omnipotent
sovereign, the American people, speaks to any one man and orders him
to do a duty, that man is under the most solemn obligations of
obedience which can be conceived, except what the God of the
universe might impose upon him. Yesterday, through your votes, and
the votes of others in the various States of the Union, it is
probable (the returns will show) that our great political sovereign
has laid his commands upon me. If he has done so, I am as bound by
his will and his great inspiration and purpose as I could be bound
by any consideration that this earth can impose upon any human
being. In that presence, therefore, I stand and am awed by the
majesty and authority of such a command.
“In so far as I can interpret the best aspirations and purposes of
our august sovereign, I shall seek to realize them. You and I, and
those who have acted with us in the years past, believe that our
sovereign loves liberty, and desires for all inhabitants of the
Republic peace and prosperity under the sway of just and equal laws.
Gentlemen, I thank you for this visit; for this welcome; for the
suggestions that your presence and your words bring, and for the
hope that you have expressed, that in the arduous and great work
before us we may maintain the standard of Nationality and promote
all that is good and worthy in this country, and during the coming
four years we may raise just as large a crop of peace, prosperity,
justice, liberty, and culture as it is possible for forty-nine
millions of people to raise.”
At the close of the address there was a general hand-shaking _à la
Américaine_; and then to add to the interest of the occasion the
President’s aged mother, to whom more than ever of late his heart had
turned with loyal devotion, was led into the apartment and presented to
the distinguished guests by her more distinguished son.
Two days afterwards there was another assembly of visitors at Mentor.
This time it was a delegation of colored Republicans—Black Republicans
in both senses of the word—from South Carolina, headed by the negro
orator, R. B. Elliott, who delivered the congratulatory address. In
answer, the President-elect said:
“_General Elliott and Gentlemen_: I thank you for your
congratulations on the successful termination of the great campaign
that recently closed, and especially for your kind allusion to me
personally for the part I bore in that campaign.
“What I have done, what I have said concerning your race and the
great problem that your presence on this continent has raised, I
have said as a matter of profound conviction, and hold to with all
the meaning of the words employed in expressing it. What you have
said in regard to the situation of your people, the troubles that
they encountered, the evils from which they have suffered and still
suffer, I listened to with deep attention, and shall give it full
measure of reflection.
“This is not the time nor the place for me to indicate any thing as
to what I shall have to say and do, by and by, in an official way.
But this I may say: I noted as peculiarly significant one sentence
in the remarks of General Elliott, to the effect that the majority
of citizens, as he alleges, in some portions of the South, are
oppressed by the minority. If this be so, why is it so? Because a
trained man is two or three men in one, in comparison with an
untrained man; and outside of politics and outside of parties, that
suggestion is full, brim-full, of significance, that the way to make
the majority always powerful over the minority, is to make its
members as trained and intelligent as the minority itself. That
brings the equality of citizenship; and no law can confer and
maintain in the long run a thing that is not upheld with a
reasonable degree of culture and intelligence. Legislation ought to
do all it can. I have made these suggestions simply to indicate that
the education of your race, in my judgment, lies at the base of the
final solution of your great question; and that can not be
altogether in the hands of the State or National Government. The
Government ought to do all it properly can, but the native hungering
and thirsting for knowledge that the Creator planted in every child,
must be cultivated by the parents of those children to the last
possible degree of their ability, so that the hands of the people
shall reach out and grasp in the darkness the hand of the Government
extended to help, and by that union of effort bring what mere
legislation alone can not immediately bring.
“I rejoice that you have expressed so strongly and earnestly your
views in regard to the necessity of your education. I have felt for
years that that was the final solution.
“Those efforts that are humble and comparatively out of sight are,
in the long run, the efforts that tell. I have sometimes thought
that the men that sink a coffer-dam into the river, and work for
months in anchoring great stones to build the solid abutments and
piers, whose work is by and by hidden by the water and out of sight,
do not get their share of the credit. The gaudy structure of the
bridge that rests on these piers, and across which the trains
thunder, is the thing that strikes the eye of the general public a
great deal more than the sunken piers and hard work. The educational
growth and the building up of industry, the economy and all that can
help the foundations of real prosperity is the work that, in the
long run, tells. Some Scotch poet said, or put it in the mouth of
some prophet to say, that the time would come ‘when Bertram’s right
and Bertram’s might shall meet on Ellengowan’s height,’ and it is
when the might and the right of a people meet that majorities are
never oppressed by minorities. Trusting, gentlemen, that you may
take part in this earnest work of building up your race from the
foundation into the solidity of intelligence and industry, and upon
those bases at last see all your rights recognized, is my personal
wish and hope for your people.”
About this time in November, the weather closed in stormy and cold, and,
fortunately for Garfield, the tide of visitors ebbed, and he found a
little rest. Late in the month, he made a brief visit to Washington,
where he spent a few days among his friends and political advisers.
After that, he returned to Mentor, and during December his life was
passed in comparative quiet at his home.
No doubt in these December days the vision of his boyhood rose many
times to view. No doubt, in the silence of the winter evening, by his
glowing hearth at Lawnfield, with the wife of his youth by his side and
the children of their love around them, and the certain Presidency of
the Republic just beyond, he realized in as full measure as falls to the
lot of man that strange thing which is called success.
The New Year came in. The bleak January—bitter cold—went by. On the 16th
of February, the distinguished Senator Conkling, of New York, made a
visit to the President-elect. In the imagination of the political
busybodies the event was fraught with great consequences. It was said
that the haughty stalwart leader was on a mission looking to the
construction of the new administration, to seek favor for his friends,
and to pledge therefor the support—hitherto somewhat doubted—of himself
and his partisans. The interview was named the “Treaty of Mentor;” but
the likelihood is that the _treaty_ consisted of no more than
distinguished civilities and informal discussion of the _personnel_ of
the new Cabinet, etc. A few days later the President-elect made his
departure for Washington to be inaugurated. The special train which was
to bear himself and family away, left Mentor on the 28th of February.
Fully three thousand people were gathered at the dépôt. Cheer after
cheer was given in honor of him who had made the name of Mentor for ever
famous. A farewell speech was delivered by Hon. A. L. Tinker, of
Painesville, and to this the Chief Magistrate responded thus:
“_Fellow-citizens and neighbors of Lake County_: I thank you for the
cordial and kindly greeting and farewell. You have come from your
homes than which no happier are known in this country, from this
beautiful lakeside full of that which makes country life happy, to
give me your blessing and farewell. You do not know how much I leave
behind me of friendship, and confidence, and home-like happiness;
but I know I am indebted to this whole people for acts of kindness,
of neighborly friendship, of political confidence, of public
support, that few men have ever enjoyed at the hands of any people.
You are a part of this great community of Northern Ohio, which, for
so many years, have had no political desire but the good of your
country; and now wishing but the promotion of liberty and justice,
have had no scheme but the building up of all that was worthy and
true in our Republic. If I were to search over all the world I could
not find a better model of political spirit, of aspirations for the
truth and the right, than I have found in this community during the
eighteen years its people have honored me with their confidence. I
thank the citizens of this county for their kindness, and especially
my neighbors of Mentor, who have demanded so little of me, and have
done so much to make my home a refuge and a joy. What awaits me I
can not now speak of, but I shall carry to the discharge of the
duties that lie before me, to the problems and dangers I may meet, a
sense of your confidence and your love, which will always be
answered by my gratitude. Neighbors, friends, and constituents,
farewell.” [Great applause.]
Promptly at 1 P. M. the train moved off, and the crowd dispersed. At
Ashtabula, that famous old seat of abolitionism, the President-elect was
called out by the chorus of cheers, and, in answer, said:
“_Citizens of Ashtabula_: I greatly thank you for this greeting. I
can not forget the tree that was planted so many years ago, and its
planting so far watched and assisted by the people of Ashtabula
County. It has grown to be a great tree. Its branches cover the
whole Republic, and its leaves and fruit are liberty to all men.
That is a work for the citizens of Ashtabula County to be proud of
to the latest generation. If I, as your representative, have helped
on the cause you so much have at heart, I am glad; and if in the
future I can help to confirm and strengthen what you have done so
much to build; if I can help to garner the harvest that you have
helped to plant, I shall feel that I have done something toward
discharging the debt of gratitude which I owe for your confidence
and love. I thank you, fellow-citizens, for this farewell greeting,
and I bid you good-bye.” [Great cheering.]
All along the route, as far as Altoona, Pennsylvania, where night
overtook the train, the scene at Ashtabula was renewed, the
President-elect responding pleasantly to the many greetings of the
people.
We are now come to the last scene in the progress of James A. Garfield
from the obscurity of a backwoods home to the high seat of the
Presidency. Wonderful career! Magnificent development of American
manhood and citizenship! The train carrying the President-elect reached
Washington on the evening of the 29th of February. By the courtesy of
Mrs. President Hayes the Garfield family was taken at once to the White
House. A press note, speaking of the arrival, said:
“The General looks travel-tired and weary, although the excitement
keeps him well stimulated, having something of the effect of
rich-living. He says that when once his Cabinet is settled, and he
begins home-life at the White House, he will have a comparative
freedom from worry. He does not sleep excellently well. Probably no
man ever did while engaged in making up a Cabinet.”
Here, then, we say, Good-night; but think of TO-MORROW!
CHAPTER XII.
IN THE HIGH SEAT.
Not titled rank nor storied pride of birth,
But free voice of the Nation
Hath raised him to the highest place of earth,
So fit to grace the station.
The morning of March 4, 1881, dawned—if such days may be said to dawn at
all—dark and gloomy. The snow, which had been falling and melting into a
very uncomfortable slush for days before, still continued. The “weather
clerk” prophesied more snow and rain; and altogether the promise of this
day was not good to the unnumbered thousands of Americans who had come
to Washington to see Garfield inaugurated. The weather was such as to
give a fresh impulse to the talk which is sometimes indulged about
changing the date of Inauguration Day to May 4th.
Nevertheless, fair weather or foul, blue sky or gray, the new
administration must begin. Shortly before eleven o’clock the military
escort of the President and President-elect moved up Pennsylvania Avenue
from the White House to the Capitol. It was one of the finest military
displays ever seen in Washington. Pennsylvania Avenue was lined with a
vast multitude, whose continual cheers made a sound which could be heard
afar, like the undying voices of the ocean waves.
President Hayes and President-elect Garfield rode in an open barouche,
drawn by four horses. The First Cleveland Troop, splendidly equipped and
drilled, marched before, as a guard of honor. Garfield looked weary. He
remarked during the morning that the preceding week had been the most
trying of his life. The effect of sleepless nights and deep anxiety was
plainly visible on his countenance. Thus, with one of the four grand
divisions of the immense procession as his immediate escort, heartily
cheered all along the line, at half-past eleven the new President
reached the Capitol.
Meanwhile the Senate Chamber and galleries had been rapidly filling with
a distinguished throng. The center of attraction was in the front seat
in the gallery, opposite the Vice-President’s desk, where sat the
President-elect’s mother and wife and Mrs. Hayes. The venerable woman
who sat at the head of the seat was regarded with interest by the whole
audience, as she looked down upon the scene in which her son was the
most conspicuous figure, with a quiet expression of joy that was very
delightful to behold. Next to her sat Mrs. Hayes. Mrs. Garfield sat at
her right, and was dressed very quietly. The three ladies chatted
together constantly, and the eldest set the other two laughing more than
once by her quaint remarks on the proceedings in the chamber below them.
The Senators and Senators-elect were all seated on the left side of the
chamber, and the prominent members of the body were eagerly watched by
the spectators. Among them were David Davis and Roscoe Conkling engaged
in earnest conversation. Near these two sat Thurman and Hamlin, two able
Senators whose last day in the Senate had come. The venerable Hamlin was
evidently in a meditative mood as the last minutes of his long official
life passed by, and was not inclined to be talkative. Thurman brought
out the familiar snuff-box, took his last pinch of Senatorial snuff, and
flung the traditional bandana handkerchief once more to the breeze.
Soon General Winfield S. Hancock, late Democratic candidate for the
Presidency, came in, accompanied by Senator Blaine. Hancock was dressed
in Major-General’s full uniform, looking in splendid condition, and
conducted himself in a manly, modest fashion, which called forth warm
applause, and commanded the respect of all spectators. Phil Sheridan was
heartily welcomed when he came in soon after and took his seat by
Hancock’s side.
After these, the Diplomatic Corps entered, presenting a brilliant
appearance; and following them soon came the Judges of the Supreme
Court. Then the Cabinet appeared, and immediately the President and
President-elect. Vice-President-elect Arthur came last, and was
presented to the Senate by Vice-President Wheeler. He spoke a few quiet,
appreciative words in that elegant way he has of doing things, and then
took the oath of office, after which, exactly at twelve—the Senate clock
having been turned back five minutes—the Forty-Sixth Congress was
adjourned without day.
The center of interest was now transferred to the east front of the
Capitol, whither, as soon as the new Senators had been sworn in, the
procession of distinguished people in the Chamber took up the line of
march.
A great platform had been erected in front of the building, and the
sight presented from it was a most striking one, for rods and rods in
front and to either side were massed thousands upon thousands of
spectators wedged in one solid mass, so that nothing but their heads
could be seen. It was indeed
ONE GREAT SEA OF FACES,
all uplifted in eager expectancy. In the center of the platform, at the
front, was a little space raised a few inches above the level of the
rest, upon which stood several chairs, the most noticeable being a
homely and antique one, which tradition, if not history, says was
occupied by Washington at his first inauguration, and which has
certainly been used for many years on such occasions.
In this chair Mr. Garfield took his seat for a few minutes when he
arrived, the others being occupied by President Hayes, Vice-President
Arthur, Mr. Wheeler, Chief-Justice Waite, and Senators Pendleton,
Bayard, and Anthony. The elder and younger Mrs. Garfield, Mrs. Hayes,
and one or two other ladies, were also given seats here. At about a
quarter of one o’clock General Garfield arose from the historic chair,
and took from his pocket a roll of manuscript, tied at the corner with
blue ribbon. Being introduced by Senator Pendleton, he proceeded to
deliver THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
“FELLOW-CITIZENS—We stand to-day upon an eminence which overlooks a
hundred years of national life, a century crowded with perils, but
crowned with triumphs of liberty and love. Before continuing the
onward march let us pause on this height for a moment to strengthen
our faith and renew our hope by a glance at the pathway along which
our people have traveled.
“It is now three days more than a hundred years since the adoption
of the first written Constitution of the United States, the Articles
of Confederation and Perpetual Union. The new Republic was then
beset with danger on every hand. It had not conquered a place in the
family of Nations. The decisive battle of the war for independence,
whose centennial anniversary will soon be gratefully celebrated at
Yorktown, had not yet been fought. The colonists were struggling,
not only against the armies of Great Britain, but against the
settled opinions of mankind, for the world did not believe that the
supreme authority of government could be safely intrusted to the
guardianship of the people themselves. We can not overestimate the
fervent love, the intelligent courage, the saving common sense with
which our fathers made the great experiment of self-government.
“When they found, after a short time, that the Confederacy of States
was too weak to meet the necessities of a glorious and expanding
Republic, they boldly set it aside, and in its stead established a
National Union, founded directly upon the will of the people,
endowed with powers of self-preservation, and with ample authority
for the accomplishment of its great objects.
“Under this Constitution the boundaries of freedom are enlarged, the
foundations of order and peace have been strengthened, and the
growth in all the better elements of National life have vindicated
the wisdom of the founders and given new hope to their descendants.
“Under this Constitution our people long ago made themselves safe
against danger from without, and secured for their mariners and flag
equality of rights on all the seas. Under this Constitution
twenty-five States have been added to the Union, with constitutions
and laws framed and enforced by their own citizens to secure the
manifold blessings of local and self-government.
“The jurisdiction of this Constitution now covers an area fifty
times greater than that of the original thirteen states, and a
population twenty times greater than that of 1780. The trial of the
Constitution came at last under the tremendous pressure of civil
war.
“We ourselves are witnesses that the Union emerged from the blood
and fire of that conflict, purified and made stronger for all the
beneficent purposes of good government, and now at the close of
this, the first century of growth, with the inspirations of its
history in their hearts, our people have lately reviewed the
condition of the Nation, passed judgment upon the conduct and
opinions of the political parties, and have registered their will
concerning the future administration of the Government. To interpret
and to execute that will in accordance with the Constitution is the
paramount duty of the Executive. Even from this brief review it is
manifest that the Nation is resolutely facing to the front, a
resolution to employ its best energies in developing the great
possibilities of the future. Sacredly preserving whatever has been
gained to liberty and good government during the century, our people
are determined to leave behind them all those bitter controversies
concerning things which have been irrevocably settled, further
discussion of which can only stir up strife and delay the onward
march. The supremacy of the Nation and its laws should be no longer
the subject of debate. That discussion, which for half a century
threatened the existence of the Union, was closed at last in the
high court of war by a decree from which there is no appeal: that
the Constitution and the laws made in pursuance thereof shall
continue to be the supreme law of the land, binding alike on the
States and the people. This decree does not disturb the autonomy of
the States, nor interfere with any of their necessary rules of local
self-government, but it does fix and establish the permanent
supremacy of the Union.
“The will of the Nation, speaking with the voice of battle and
through the amended Constitution, has fulfilled the great promise of
1776 by proclaiming ‘Liberty throughout the land to all the
inhabitants thereof.’
“The elevation of the negro race from slavery to full rights of
citizenship, is the most important political change we have known
since the adoption of the Constitution of 1776.
“No thoughtful man can fail to appreciate its beneficent effect upon
our people. It has freed us from the perpetual danger of war and
dissolution; it has added immensely to the moral and industrial
forces of our people; it has liberated the master as well as the
slave from a relation which wronged and enfeebled both.
“It has surrendered to their own guardianship the manhood of more
than five millions of people, and has opened to each of them a
career of freedom and usefulness. It has given new inspiration to
the power of self-help in both races by making labor more honorable
to one and more necessary to the other.
“The influence of this force will grow greater and bear richer fruit
with coming years. No doubt the great change has caused serious
disturbance to the Southern community—this is to be deplored, though
it was unavoidable; but those who resisted the change should
remember that in our institutions there was no middle ground for the
negro race between slavery and equal citizenship. There can be no
permanent disfranchised peasantry in the United States. Freedom can
never yield its fullness of blessing as long as law or its
administration places the smallest obstacle in the pathway of any
virtuous citizenship.
“The emancipated race has already made remarkable progress. With
unquestionable devotion to the Union, with a patience and gentleness
not born of fear, ‘they have followed the light as God gave them to
see the light.’
“They are rapidly laying the material foundation for self-support,
widening their circle of intelligence, and beginning to enjoy the
blessings that gather around the homes of the industrious poor. They
deserve the generous encouragement of all good men.
“So far as my authority can lawfully extend, they shall enjoy full
and equal protection of the Constitution and laws. The free
enjoyment of equal suffrage is still in question, and a frank
statement of the issue may aid its solution.
“It is alleged that in many communities negro citizens are
practically denied freedom of the ballot. In so far as the truth of
this allegation is admitted, it is answered that in many places
honest local government is impossible if the mass of uneducated
negroes are allowed to vote. These are grave allegations.
“So far as the latter is true, it is no palliation that can be
offered for opposing the freedom of the ballot. Bad local government
is certainly a great evil which ought to be prevented, but to
violate the freedom and sanctity of suffrage is more than an evil,
it is a crime, which, if persisted in, will destroy the Government
itself. Suicide is not a remedy.
“If in other lands it be high treason to compass the death of a
king, it should be counted no less a crime here to strangle our
sovereign power and stifle its voice. It has been said that
unsettled questions have no pity for the repose of nations. It
should be said, with the utmost emphasis, that this question of
suffrage will never give repose or safety to the States or to the
Nation, until each, within its own jurisdiction, makes and keeps the
ballot free and pure by strong sanctions of law.
“But the danger which arises from ignorance in voters can not be
denied. It covers a field far wider than that of negro suffrage and
the present condition of that race. It is a danger that lurks and
hides in the sources and fountains of power in every State. We have
no standard by which to measure the disaster that may be brought
upon us by ignorance and vice in citizens when joined to corruption
and fraud in suffrage. The voters of the Union, who make and unmake
constitutions, and upon whose will hangs the destiny of our
government, can transmit their supreme authority to no successor
save the coming generation of voters, who are the sole heirs of
sovereign power. If that generation comes to its inheritance blinded
by ignorance and corrupted by vice, the fall of the Republic will be
certain and remediless. The census has already sounded the alarm in
appalling figures, which mark how dangerously high the tide of
illiteracy has arisen among our voters and their children. To the
South the question is of supreme importance, but the responsibility
for its existence and for slavery does not rest upon the South
alone.
“The Nation itself is responsible for the extension of suffrage, and
is under special obligations to aid in removing the illiteracy which
it has added to the voting population. For North and South alike
there is but one remedy: All the Constitutional power of the Nation
and of the States, and all the volunteer forces of the people,
should be summoned to meet this danger by the saving influence of
universal education. It is the high privilege and sacred duty of
those now living to educate their successors, and fit them, by
intelligence and virtue, for the inheritance which awaits them. In
this beneficent work section and race should be forgotten, and
partisanship should be unknown. Let our people find a new meaning in
the divine oracle which declares that ‘a little child shall lead
them,’ for our little children will soon control the destinies of
the Republic.
“My countrymen, we do not now differ in our judgment concerning the
controversies of the past generations, and fifty years hence our
children will not be divided in their opinions concerning our
controversies; they will surely bless their fathers—and their
fathers’ God—that the Union was preserved; that slavery was
overthrown, and that both races were made equal before the law. We
may hasten on, we may retard, but we can not prevent the final
reconciliation.
“Is it not possible for us now to make a truce with time by
anticipating and accepting its inevitable verdict? Enterprises of
the highest importance to our moral and material well-being invite
us, and offer ample scope for the enjoyment of our best powers.
“Let all our people, leaving behind them the battle-fields of dead
issues, move forward, and in the strength of liberty and restored
union win the grandest victories of peace. The prosperity which now
prevails is without parallel in our history. Fruitful seasons have
done much to secure it, but they have not done all.
“The preservation of public credit and the resumption of specie
payments, so successfully obtained by the administration of my
predecessors, have enabled our people to secure the blessings which
the seasons brought.
“By the experience of commercial relations in all ages it has been
found that gold and silver afforded the only safe foundation for a
monetary system. Confusion has recently been created by variations
in the relative value of the two metals; but I confidently believe
that arrangements can be made between the leading commercial nations
which will secure the general use of both metals. Congress should
provide that the compulsory coinage of silver, now required by law,
may not disturb our monetary system by driving either metal out of
circulation.
“If possible, such adjustment should be made that the purchasing
power of every coined dollar will be exactly equal to its
debt-paying power in all the markets of the world. The chief duty of
a National Government, in connection with the currency of the
country, is to coin and declare its value. Grave doubts have been
entertained whether Congress is authorized by the Constitution to
make any form of paper money legal-tender.
“The present issue of United States notes has been sustained by the
necessities of war; but such paper should depend for its value and
currency upon its convenience in use and its prompt redemption in
coin at the will of the holder, and not upon its compulsory
circulation. These notes are not money, but promises to pay money.
If the holders demand it, the promises should be kept. The refunding
of the National debt at a low rate of interest should be
accomplished without compelling the withdrawal of National bank
notes, and thus disturbing the business of the country.
“I venture to refer to the position I have occupied on the financial
question during a long service in Congress, and to say that time and
experience have strengthened the opinions I have so often expressed
on these subjects. The finances of the Government shall suffer no
detriment which it may be possible for my administration to prevent.
“The interests of agriculture deserve more attention from the
Government than they have yet received. The farms of the United
States afford homes and employment for more than one-half of our
people, and furnish much the largest part of all our exports. As the
Government lights our coasts for the protection of the mariners and
the benefit of our commerce, so it should give to the tillers of the
soil the lights of practical science and experience.
“Our manufacturers are rapidly making us industrially independent,
and are opening to capital and labor new and profitable fields of
employment. This steady and healthy growth should still be
maintained. Our facilities for transportation should be promoted by
the continued improvement of our harbors and the great interior
water-ways and by the increase of our tonnage on the ocean.
“The development of the world’s commerce has led to an urgent demand
for a shortening of the great sea voyage around Cape Horn by
constructing ship-canals or railways across the Isthmus which unites
the two continents. Various plans to this end have been suggested
and will need consideration, but none of them have been sufficiently
matured to warrant the United States in extending pecuniary aid.
“The subject is one which will immediately engage the attention of
the Government with a view to a thorough protection of American
interests. We will argue no narrow policy, nor seek peculiar or
exclusive privileges in any commercial route; but, in the language
of my predecessors, I believe it to be ‘the right and duty of the
United States to assert and maintain such supervision and authority
over any inter-oceanic canal across the Isthmus that connects North
and South America as will protect our National interests.’
“The Constitution guarantees absolute religious freedom. Congress is
prohibited from making any laws respecting the establishment of
religion or prohibiting free exercise thereof.
“The Territories of the United States are subject to the direct
legislative authority of Congress, and hence the General Government
is responsible for any violation of the Constitution in any of them.
It is, therefore, a reproach to the Government that in the most
populous of the Territories this constitutional guarantee is not
enjoyed by the people, and the authority of Congress is set at
naught. The Mormon Church not only offends the moral sense of
mankind by sanctioning polygamy, but prevents the administration of
justice through the ordinary instrumentalities of the law.
“In my judgment it is the duty of Congress, while respecting to the
utmost the conscientious convictions and religious scruples of every
citizen, to prohibit within its jurisdiction all criminal practices,
especially of that class which destroy family relations and endanger
social order. Nor can any ecclesiastical organization be safely
permitted to usurp in the smallest degree the functions and powers
of the National Government.
“The Civil Service can never be placed on a satisfactory basis until
it is regulated by law, for the good of the service itself. For the
protection of those who are intrusted with the appointing power
against a waste of time and obstruction of public business, caused
by the inordinate pressure for place, and for the protection of
incumbents against intrigue and wrong, I shall, at the proper time,
ask Congress to fix the tenure of minor offices of the several
Executive Departments, and prescribe the grounds upon which removals
shall be made during the terms for which the incumbents have been
appointed.
“Finally, acting always within the authority and limitations of the
Constitution, invading neither the rights of States nor the reserved
rights of the people, it will be the purpose of my administration to
maintain the authority, and in all places within its jurisdiction,
to enforce obedience to all laws of the Union; in the interests of
the people, to demand rigid economy in all the expenditures of the
Government, and to require honest and faithful service of all
executive officers, remembering that offices were created not for
the benefit of the incumbents or their supporters, but for the
service of the Government.
“And now, fellow-citizens, I am about to assume the great trust
which you have committed to my hands. I appeal to you for that
earnest and thoughtful support which makes this Government in fact,
as it is in law, a government of the people. I shall greatly rely
upon the wisdom and patriotism of Congress and of those who may
share with me the responsibilities and duties of the administration,
and upon our efforts to promote the welfare of this great people and
their Government I reverently invoke the support and blessing of
Almighty God.”
[Illustration: JAMES G. BLAINE.]
The address was delivered in a deliberate, forcible manner. The
President’s appearance was dignified, and even imposing. That splendid
voice, with its magnetic power and fine tone, captivated his admiring
audience, who listened patiently throughout the entire thirty-five
minutes. At its close Garfield turned toward the Chief Justice who
advanced and administered the oath of office, the Clerk of the Supreme
Court holding a beautifully-bound Bible, upon which the oath was taken.
Then occurred as impressive an episode as was ever seen in official
life. After the new President had been congratulated by ex-President
Hayes and Chief Justice Waite, who stood next to him, he turned around,
took his aged mother by the hand and kissed her. The old lady’s cup of
happiness at this moment seemed full and running over. It is quite safe
to say that nobody, not even Garfield himself, felt more enjoyment at
the spectacle of his elevation than this woman whose mind ranged from
the days of his obscure and poverty-stricken boyhood to his present
elevation, and nobody witnessed the sight but rejoiced at her happiness.
Mrs. Eliza Garfield is the first example of a President’s mother having
a home in the White House. And it was a pleasure to the people to know
that special arrangements had been made there for her accommodation.
Garfield next kissed his wife, then shook hands with Mrs. Hayes, and
speedily found the grasp of his hand sought by every body within reach,
from Vice-President down through Congressmen to the unknown strangers
who could manage to push within reaching distance.
[Illustration: WILLIAM WINDOM.]
Meanwhile the elements had begun to modify their rigors. The bright
sunlight breaking through the clouds, was reflected from the snow, and
nature seemed less cheerless. At last, the Presidential party, jostled a
good deal on the way, returned through the rotunda to the Senate wing of
the Capitol, and prepared for the ride to the White House. Taking their
place near the head of the procession, they passed up to the other end
of the Avenue, receiving on the way the applause of the multitude.
President Garfield and party then took position on a stand erected for
the purpose in front of a building near the Avenue, and from this point
reviewed the procession, which filed past for two full hours. There were
over 15,000 men in line, and the whole number of spectators was
doubtless over 100,000.
Immediately after review of the procession, President Garfield received
the Williams College Association, of Washington, with visiting Alumni to
the number of fifty, in the East Room of the Executive Mansion. Rev.
Mark Hopkins, ex-president of the college, eloquently presented the
congratulations of the Alumni. President Garfield made an appropriate
response, in which he exhibited considerable emotion. Afterward the
Alumni were presented to the mother and wife of the President. Twenty
members of President Garfield’s class were among the Alumni present.
[Illustration: ROBERT T. LINCOLN.]
The festivities of March fourth ended at night with a magnificent
display of fireworks, a great inaugural ball in the Museum building, and
numerous receptions at the houses of the most distinguished residents at
the Capital.
On the fifth of March, President Garfield sent to the Senate, then in
extra session, a list of nominations for his Cabinet. These were
unanimously confirmed. They were: Secretary of State, James G. Blaine,
of Maine; Secretary of the Treasury, William Windom, of Minnesota;
Secretary of War, Robert T. Lincoln, of Illinois; Secretary of the Navy,
Wm. H. Hunt, of Louisiana; Secretary of the Interior, S. J. Kirkwood, of
Iowa; Attorney-General, Wayne MacVeagh, of Pennsylvania;
Postmaster-General, Thomas L. James, of New York.
This proved an admirable selection. Its components are men who stand
well with the country, and whose services in other positions had given
sufficient evidence of honesty and capacity to recommend them to the
American people. And it involved no antagonistic elements.
[Illustration: WILLIAM H. HUNT.]
Again, this new Cabinet did not take its bias from any strong political
element. It was not a Grant-Conkling selection; nor even a Blaine
Cabinet. It was a Garfield Cabinet, in which the President was
unmistakably the central figure and the center of power.
James G. Blaine, Secretary of State, was leader of the group. His
prominent position in his party and before the country made his
nomination generally acceptable, and his long and intimate acquaintance
with affairs of state gave him the requisite experience. Undoubtedly,
Blaine is one of the most magnificently endowed men, in intellectual
power, now in public life.
Secretary Windom had a difficult place to fill in following John Sherman
as Secretary of the Treasury. Sherman had heartily recommended Windom
for the place, and he was probably the best choice that could have been
made. He had been an anti-third term man, of course, but was very
friendly with such Stalwarts as Conkling and Arthur, and was thus a good
factor in an administration which did not want to antagonize these men,
although not yielding to them.
The nomination of Robert T. Lincoln was very largely the result of
sentiment—but a very good sentiment. He had been a respectable lawyer,
who attended carefully to his business, and, under trying circumstances,
had conducted himself with discretion. It happened that he was a
favorite of Senator Logan, and that President Garfield desired to make
his Cabinet agreeable to the Senator; also, that young Lincoln had been,
according to his opportunities, a Third-termer, and it was the desire of
the President to conciliate the Third-termers, so far as it could be
done without giving his policy an unwarranted slant; and it happened
also that General Garfield, as we have seen from his addresses years
previous to this time, held the memory of Abraham Lincoln in the deepest
reverence, and felt a solicitude to make his own elevation to the
Presidency honor that memory. Under these circumstances, and from these
considerations, the appointment of Mr. Robert T. Lincoln to be Secretary
of War came naturally about.
[Illustration: DR. D. HAYES AGNEW.]
Hunt was appointed to represent the South.
Kirkwood was a man whom Garfield had long held in high esteem, and was
familiar with public business.
Wayne MacVeagh, though brother-in-law to Don Cameron, did not belong to
the Cameron political clan. He was chosen as a Republican of independent
proclivities, and a lawyer of whose ability there could be no question.
[Illustration: WAYNE MACVEAGH.]
Mr. James, Postmaster of New York City, was appointed Postmaster-General
for purely business reasons, and because he was not only believed to be
the best man for the place, but was one of the few first-class public
men in New York not fully committed to one or the other of the personal
or political factions of Republicans in that State.
Thus Garfield tried, and with a degree of success, to appoint a Cabinet
which should not give any one cause for organizing an opposition to the
Administration. He certainly had the good will of all Republicans, and
even his political enemies conceded that he started out under bright
auspices. The country itself was prosperous, and the most far-sighted
men joined the unreflecting multitude in predictions of a happy,
uneventful administration of four years, under the peaceful rule of a
popular President.
[Illustration: THOMAS L. JAMES.]
Four days after his inauguration, a company of fifty ladies, members of
the National Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, called at the White
House to present a portrait of Mrs. Lucy Webb Hayes, just completed by
Mr. Huntington. It will be remembered that Mrs. Hayes had won the
approval of many good people by declining to put wine on the table at
the White House. These ladies now desired to impress on the new
incumbents the desirability of continuing that policy. In responding to
the presentation speech, President Garfield received the portrait, and
referred to the temperance question thus:
“Nothing I can say will be equal to my high appreciation of the
character of the lady whose picture is now added to the treasures of
this place. She is noble, the friend of all good people. Her
portrait will take, and I hope will always hold in this house, an
honored place. I have observed the significance which you have given
to this portrait from the stand-point you occupy, and in connection
with the work in which you are engaged. First, I approve most
heartily what you have said in reference to the freedom of
individual judgment and action, symbolized in this portrait. There
are several sovereignties in this country. First, the sovereignty of
the American people, then the sovereignty nearest to us all—the
sovereignty of the family—the absolute right of each family to
control its affairs in accordance with the conscience and
convictions of duty of the heads of the family. In the picture
before us that is bravely symbolized. I have no doubt the American
people will always tenderly regard their household sovereignty, and
however households may differ in their views and convictions, I
believe that those differences will be respected. Each household, by
following its own convictions, and holding itself responsible to
God, will, I think, be respected by the American people. What you
have said concerning the evils of intemperance, meets my most hearty
concurrence. I have been, in my way, and in accordance with my own
convictions, an earnest advocate of temperance, not in so narrow a
sense as some, but in a very definite and practical sense. These
convictions are deep, and will be maintained. Whether I shall be
able to meet the views of all people in regard to all the phases of
that question remains to be seen, but I shall do what I can to abate
the great evils of intemperance. I shall be glad to have the picture
upon these walls; I shall be glad to remember your kind expressions
to me and my family; and in your efforts to better mankind by your
work, I hope you will be guided by wisdom and that you will achieve
a worthy success.”
President Hayes had left the new administration a heritage of hatred
from the stalwart element of the Republican party. It was President
Garfield’s chief wish, politically, to heal up the chasm which the past
had opened, and not to recognize one faction more than another.
Notwithstanding these purposes, the deadly breach which had yawned apart
during the Hayes administration, was an ominous thing. The defeat of the
Stalwarts at Chicago, by Garfield, naturally tended to transfer their
hostility from the outgoing to the incoming President. For months before
the inauguration, the embarrassment which threatened Garfield was
foreseen by the country. On the one hand were the men who had nominated
him in the Chicago Convention,—men who, risking every political
prospect, rebelled from the command of their leaders, such as Conkling,
Cameron, and Logan, and defeated Grant. To such, Garfield owed his
nomination. On the other hand was the stalwart element, still bruised
and sore from the defeat at Chicago. Yet they had entered heartily into
the campaign. They had swallowed their chagrin, and outwardly, if not
inwardly, submitted with good grace to their defeat, and wheeled into
line of battle for the fall election. To these men, Garfield was largely
indebted for his election. In his administration, how could he recognize
either one of these elements without arousing the antagonism of the
other? This was the riddle which he must solve.
The breach between the two was as deadly as ever. The Cabinet was a
compromise, but the Grant men were afraid of it, with Blaine so near the
throne.
For a few days after the inauguration, the surface of the sea was
tolerably smooth; but acute political mariners prophesied rough weather.
The two wings of the party in New York were waiting to fly at each
other’s throats at the first opportunity. The balance of power between
the two elements was the official patronage of the President. Into whose
lap the plum was thrown, to that wing belonged the ascendancy.
Senator Conkling’s chief political purpose was to chastise the men who
had deserted his standard at Chicago. This he could best accomplish by
controlling the Federal patronage himself; but failing in that, his next
object was to cause the patronage to be distributed to neutrals, thereby
preventing it from becoming an element at all in the fight.
Senators Conkling, Logan, and Cameron, as well as Sherman and Blaine,
were visitors at the White House, and left in pleasant humor. In the
eyes of the country it seemed plain that Conkling had made the
disposition of the New York patronage the price of his friendship to the
new administration. Every body was on tiptoe to see what the President
would do. On March 22d, he sent to the Senate, for confirmation, the
names of Stewart L. Woodford, to be United States Attorney for the
Southern District of New York, and Asa W. Tenney, for the Eastern
District; Lewis F. Payne, to be United States Marshal, for the Southern,
and Clinton D. McDougall, for the Northern District of New York, and
John Tyler, to be Collector of Customs at Buffalo.
This move was interpreted by the country to mean a great victory for
Conkling, and that the New York patronage was controlled by him. Other
nominations, in Conkling’s supposed interest, were those of James in the
Cabinet, and Morton, Minister to France.
But on the following day, President Garfield nominated, for Collector of
the port of New York, William H. Robertson. In New York, and more or
less throughout the country, this was a great surprise. But it was not
an objectionable nomination. Then it was Robertson who headed the break
in the New York delegation at Chicago. He had risked much; he had been
very largely instrumental in nominating Garfield. Gratitude is a noble
quality of human nature, and the President was a man of generous motives
and impulses. The general expression from the country upon the Robertson
nomination was one of approval. To disinterested people, far away from
the heat and dust of the battle, it was, coupled with the nominations of
the preceding day, plainly a declaration of an intention to recognize
each branch of the party in New York. Weaker men would have recognized
neither, giving the offices to neutrals, and pleasing nobody. Mere
partisan men would have recognized one faction only. Garfield tried to
recognize both. A deeper significance also lay in the Robertson
nomination. Whether Garfield meant it or not, it was, in a sense, a
declaration of independence. Garfield, with his lion-like courage, his
intellectual powers, his moral greatness, could not, in fact or in
appearance, allow his administration to be manipulated by outside
influence. It was said that Mr. Blaine was the author of the Robertson
nomination; that it was his revenge on Conkling. Garfield said
repeatedly, even on the bed of pain, that it was his own in every sense,
and that Blaine had not known that it was intended to be made.
Whatever President Garfield intended by the nomination of Robertson,
Senator Conkling treated it as a declaration of war. In their views of
what followed, men will differ. It is not for these pages, penned so
soon in the darkness of an awful assassination, to do more than relate
the facts, though it is impossible for a biographer of the dead to do
other than sympathize with him. Senator Conkling said that Hayes had
never done a thing so terrible. He said that the nomination of
Robertson, the most objectionable man possible—without consultation with
the Senators from New York, or without their being informed of the
intention to make a change in the most important office in the State,
was a grievous personal and political wrong. He said that the long
dispute as to whether a small faction of New York Republicans, or
four-fifths of the party in the State, as represented by him, were to be
treated by the Administration as the Republican party of New York, had
at last to be settled finally and forever.
The situation was one of intense interest. Popular opinion supported the
President, though not a few took the side of Conkling. The latter,
together with Platt, the junior Yew York Senator, resolved to fight the
confirmation of Robertson. They believed that, with the Senate evenly
balanced, they could, with the help of the Democrats, prevent
Robertson’s confirmation. It was a battle of giants. Men wondered
whether, when war was declared, Garfield would strike back or not. The
Stalwarts offered only one way of compromise—the withdrawal of
Robertson’s nomination. But the President was firm. Efforts were made to
induce Robertson to ask the President to withdraw his name in the
interest of harmony. But he scouted the idea. The State Senate of New
York, of which Robertson was the presiding officer, passed a resolution
in support of the Administration. On behalf of the President’s action it
was claimed, that it was his constitutional right to nominate; that the
New York Senators overstepped their prerogative in attacking his action;
that the office of Collector of the Port was a national office, and not
rightfully a part of the local patronage; that the Executive should
select the man through whose hands passed nine-tenths of the tariff
revenues of the country.
There had been a dead-lock of the Senate over the nomination of its
officers, and this still continued, and the President was, in
consequence, embarrassed by the failure to act on any of his
nominations. It began to be thought that this delay, covered by the
pretense of securing Mahone, of Virginia, to the Republicans, was really
a scheme to prevent any action on the President’s nominations.
Meanwhile, the administration had to deal with problems more important
to the country than the Robertson nomination. Two hundred millions of
six per cent. bonds were shortly to become redeemable. It was every way
desirable that the bonds should be redeemed and the rate of interest on
the public debt reduced. To issue bonds under the existing laws, in
order to raise money to redeem the six per cents., would require the new
bonds to be issued at four per cent. for thirty years, or four and a
half per cent. for twenty years. These rates of interest were too high,
and the time for the bonds to run too long. In case the Government
acquired the means to pay them off before they were due, still the
interest would keep running. There were grave objections to calling an
extra session of Congress. Garfield and the country were afraid of the
unsettling influence of our national legislature. Early in his
Congressional career, Garfield had said, “if the laws of God were as
vacillating as the laws of this country, the universe would be reduced
to chaos in a single day.” Above all things, the business of the country
demanded a rest from congressional tinkering.
When powerful, and it was thought overwhelming influences pressed upon
President Garfield the policy of an extra session of Congress, he sent
to the Secretary of the Treasury a call for full information as to the
powers he had under existing laws. It was a wise conclusion that it
might be easier to hunt up old laws than to have new ones made. Whatever
the old laws permitted was certain, but a fresh Congress is uncertain,
especially on finance.
The Secretary found that there was no law to prevent the Government from
using its credit and business foresight in handling and refunding its
indebtedness. The plan which President Garfield and Secretary Windom
evolved was absolutely original and proved to be the highest
statesmanship. Garfield was at home on questions of finance.
A circular was issued to the holders of the six per cents., saying that
after the following July 1st, interest would cease, and the bonds be
redeemed as fast as presented. If, however, the holders preferred to
retain the bonds, and receive three and a half per cent., at the
pleasure of the Government, they could do so.
As the event showed, hardly any bonds were presented for redemption. And
without any legislation the interest on that portion of the public debt
was reduced from six to three and a half per cent., and all that without
the expense of a new issue of bonds, or the disadvantage of a debt not
maturing till long after the Government would probably be ready to pay
it. This financial feat attracted the attention of European States, and
was pronounced one of the most masterly financial schemes of history.
While the Senate was still at a dead-lock over the offices of Secretary
and Sergeant-at-Arms, and the Robertson quarrel grew blacker and
blacker, President Garfield and his cabinet found time to commence an
investigation of the alleged gigantic frauds in the post-office
department. It promised to engulf and destroy some of the best workers
of the Republican party, but the President, in spite of terrific
pressure, and in spite of the battle raging over the Robertson matter,
set his face like brass against all corruption. The Star Route
contracts, though they may not fall within reach of the law, were of the
following character: In lonely mountain districts of the West, where a
mail for miners’ camps would be needed about once in two weeks, a
contract would be let for carrying the mail at say $500 a trip, making
the cost for the line for the year about $13,000. Then, under pretense
of the need of more mails on account of the development of the West,
Congress would be induced to order a daily instead of a biweekly mail.
By this “expediting,” the contractor was enabled, under the old rate of
$500 per trip, to make $150,000 a year out of the line. Many times the
mail bags in these “expedited” routes are said to have been empty as
they were carried through the mountains. Postmaster-General James and
Attorney-General MacVeagh were the principal prosecutors of the
investigation.
Meanwhile, the storm raged with ever-growing fierceness around the
President. The Republican Senatorial caucus sent committee after
committee to him to induce the withdrawal of Robertson’s name. He was
subjected to every possible pressure and influence, but Grant himself
never held a position with greater firmness. Conkling, however, proposed
and carried through the Republican caucus the following plan, by which
the dead-lock was to be broken temporarily, allowing the Senate to go
into executive session: _All nominations that were not opposed by one
Senator from the nominee’s State were first to be acted upon._ The rest
could take care of themselves. This admitted about every one except
Robertson to the consideration of the Senate. The plan was popularly
supposed to mean the confirmation of all unopposed nominations,
including those of Senator Conkling’s friends, and then either an
adjournment _sine die_, or a breaking of the quorum, by absentees, so as
to prevent any action on Robertson’s name till December. This would be a
victory for the New York Senator.
But the President, though possessing too much self-respect to make this
a personal controversy, was yet brave and strategic. Shortly after the
Senate went into executive session, the President’s private secretary
arrived with a message which fell like a thunderbolt on that body. The
message withdrew the nominations of Senator Conkling’s friends. It was a
checkmate. The plan of the caucus was foiled. President Garfield
assigned as his reason simply that the discrimination which was
attempted, in acting on all the nominations from the Stalwart element
and refusing to act on the solitary representative of the opposite
element, was wrong and unfair. He said that the President’s duty was to
nominate, and that the Senate’s sworn duty was to _confirm_ or _reject_.
To refuse to do either was surpassing their prerogative. To show how
consistent the President was in this struggle, with views held long
years before he ever thought of the Presidency, we insert an extract
from an article by him on “A Century of Congress,” in the _Atlantic
Monthly_, for July, 1877:
CONGRESS AND THE EXECUTIVE.
“In the main, the balance of powers so admirably adjusted and
distributed among the three great departments of the Government have
been safely preserved. It was the purpose of our fathers to lodge
absolute power nowhere; to leave each department independent within
its own sphere, yet, in every case, responsible for the exercise of
its discretion. But some dangerous innovations have been made.
“And first, the appointing power of the President has been seriously
encroached upon by Congress, or rather by the members of Congress.
Curiously enough, this encroachment originated in the act of the
Chief Executive himself. The fierce popular hatred of the Federal
party, which resulted in the elevation of Jefferson to the
Presidency, led that officer to set the first example of removing
men from office on account of political opinions. For political
causes alone he removed a considerable number of officers who had
recently been appointed by President Adams, and thus set the
pernicious example. His immediate successors made only a few
removals for political reasons. But Jackson made his political
opponents who were in office feel the full weight of his executive
hand. From that time forward the civil offices of the Government
became the prizes for which political parties strove; and,
twenty-five years ago, the corrupting doctrine that ‘to the victors
belong the spoils’ was shamelessly announced as an article of
political faith and practice. It is hardly possible to state with
adequate force the noxious influence of this doctrine. It was bad
enough when the Federal officers numbered no more than eight or ten
thousand; but now, when the growth of the country and the great
increase in the number of public offices occasioned by the late war,
have swelled the civil list to more than eighty thousand, and to the
ordinary motives for political strife this vast patronage is offered
as a reward to the victorious party, the magnitude of the evil can
hardly be measured. The public mind has, by degrees, drifted into an
acceptance of this doctrine; and thus an election has become a
fierce, selfish struggle between the ‘ins’ and the ‘outs,’ the one
striving to keep and the other to gain the prize of office. It is
not possible for any President to select, with any degree of
intelligence, so vast an army of office-holders without the aid of
men who are acquainted with the people of the various sections of
the country. And thus it has become the habit of Presidents to make
most of their appointments on the recommendation of members of
Congress. During the last twenty-five years, it has been understood,
by the Congress and the people, that offices are to be obtained by
the aid of Senators and Representatives, who thus become the
dispensers, sometimes the brokers, of patronage. The members of
State legislatures who choose a senator, and the district electors
who choose a representative, look to the man of their choice for
appointments to office. Thus, from the President downward, through
all the grades of official authority, to the electors themselves,
civil office becomes a vast corrupting power, to be used in running
the machine of party politics.
“This evil has been greatly aggravated by the passage of the Tenure
of Office Act, of 1867, whose object was to restrain President
Johnson from making removals for political cause. But it has
virtually resulted in the usurpation, by the Senate, of a large
share of the appointing power. The President can remove no officer
without the consent of the Senate; and such consent is not often
given, unless the appointment of the successor nominated to fill the
proposed vacancy is agreeable to the Senator in whose State the
appointee resides. Thus it has happened that a policy inaugurated by
an early President has resulted in seriously crippling the just
powers of the Executive, and has placed in the hands of Senators and
Representatives a power most corrupting and dangerous.
“Not the least serious evil resulting from this invasion of the
Executive functions by members of Congress is the fact that it
greatly impairs their own usefulness as legislators. One-third of
the working hours of Senators and Representatives is hardly
sufficient to meet the demands made upon them in reference to
appointments to office. To sum up in a word: the present system
invades the independence of the Executive, and makes him less
responsible for the character of his appointments; it impairs the
efficiency of the legislator by diverting him from his proper sphere
of duty and involving him in the intrigues of aspirants for office;
it degrades the civil service itself by destroying the personal
independence of those who are appointed; it repels from the service
those high and manly qualities which are so necessary to a pure and
efficient administration; and, finally, it debauches the public mind
by holding up public office as the reward of mere party zeal.
“To reform this service is one of the highest and most imperative
duties of statesmanship. This reform can not be accomplished without
a complete divorce between Congress and the Executive in the matter
of appointments. It will be a proud day when an Administration
Senator or Representative, who is in good standing in his party, can
say, as Thomas Hughes said, during his recent visit to this country,
that though he was on the most intimate terms with the members of
his own administration, yet it was not in his power to secure the
removal of the humblest clerk in the civil service of his
government.”
It is easy to see the principle which lay behind the nomination of
Robertson independently of the New York Senators, and the demand that it
should be acted upon by the Senate. It is idle to say that Mr. Blaine or
any other man made the President his tool. President Garfield’s policy
was the logical outgrowth of his opinions, and it was he who, opinions
and all, was elected by the people.
The withdrawal of the other nominations, it was conceded, defeated the
New York Senators. The country watched the situation with interest, if
not anxiety. The next move of Conkling was anxiously expected. It came.
On May 16, 1881, Vice-President Arthur handed the Reading Clerk a little
sheet of note-paper containing these words:
WASHINGTON, May 16, 1881.
_Sir_: Will you please announce to the Senate that my resignation as
Senator of the United States from the State of New York has been
forwarded to the Governor of the State.
I have the honor to be, with great respect, your obedient servant,
ROSCOE CONKLING.
To Hon. C. A. ARTHUR.
He read it in the monotonous sing-song, uninflected way of which he is
master, but before he had finished all eyes were upon him, and all ears
were opened to receive the announcement. Astonishment sat on every face.
Each man looked to his neighbor in questioning wonder. A murmur of
surprised comment crept around the chamber. Then some incredulous
Senators demanded a second reading of the momentous missive. Once more
the clerk chanted its contents, while the incredulous ones, convinced
against their will, drank in the simple statement of the startling fact.
Then the Vice-President handed the clerk another note of like tenor,
running thus:
SENATE CHAMBER, May 16, 1881.
_Sir_: I have forwarded to the Governor of the State of New York my
resignation as Senator of the United States for the State of New
York. Will you please announce the fact to the Senate?
With great respect, your obedient servant,
T. C. PLATT.
To Hon. C. A. ARTHUR.
This was read amid the increasing hum of astonishment in the galleries
and on the floor. Mr. Hill, of Georgia, had the cruelty to suggest that
the officers ought now to be elected. Then Mr. Burnside, endeavoring
very hard to look as though nothing unusual had occurred, rose nervously
and presented the report of the Foreign Affairs Committee, recommending
the adoption of the Morgan-Monroe Doctrine resolution, which he gave
notice he would call up to-morrow. His carefully prepared report was
read, but nobody paid the slightest attention to it. All were absorbed
in the consideration of the step taken by Conkling, its meaning, and its
probable effect.
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.
[Illustration: THE GARFIELD FAMILY.]
CHAPTER XIII.
SHOT DOWN.
A wasp flew out upon our fairest son,
And stung him to the quick with poisoned shaft,
The while he chatted carelessly and laughed,
And knew not of the fateful mischief done.
And so this life, amid our love begun,
Envenomed by the insect’s hellish craft,
Was drunk by Death in one long feverish draught,
And he was lost—our precious, priceless one!
Oh, mystery of blind, remorseless fate!
Oh, cruel end of a most causeless hate!
That life so mean should murder life so great!
What is there left to us who think and feel,
Who have no remedy, and no appeal,
But damn the wasp and crush him under heel?—_Holland._
The Senate had adjourned. The bitterness of the political contest at
Albany had subsided. Washington was deserted for the summer. Mrs.
Garfield, slowly recovering from her long illness, was regaining health
and courage at Long Branch. It was the purpose of the President, as soon
as the pressing cares and anxieties of his great office could be put
aside, to join his wife by the sea-side, and to enjoy with her a brief
respite from the burdens and distractions which weighed him down. His
brief life at the White House had been any thing but happy. Sickness had
entered almost from the date of his occupancy. The political imbroglio
in the Senate, and afterwards in New York, had greatly annoyed him. He
had had the mortification of seeing, in the very first months of his
administration, his party torn with feuds, and brought to the verge of
disruption. The clamor for office was deafening, and he had been obliged
to meet and pacify the hungry horde that swarmed like locusts around the
capital. All this he had, during the spring and early summer, met with
the equanimity and dignity becoming his high station. So with the coming
of July he purposed to rest with his family for a brief season by the
sea. Afterwards he would visit Williams College and make arrangements
for the admission of his two sons to those same classic halls where his
own youthful thirst for knowledge had been quenched.
On the morning of the 2d of July—fatal day in the calendar of American
history—the President made ready to put his purpose into execution.
Several members of the Cabinet, headed by Secretary Blaine, were to
accompany him to Long Branch. A few ladies, personal friends of the
President’s family and one of his sons, were of the company; and as the
hour for departure drew near, they gathered at the dépôt of the
Baltimore and Potomac Railway to await the train. The President and
Secretary Blaine were somewhat later than the rest. On the way to the
dépôt the Chief Magistrate, always buoyant and hopeful, was more than
usually joyous, expressing his keen gratification that the relations
between himself and the members of his Cabinet were so harmonious, and
that the Administration was a unit.
When the carriage arrived at the station at half past nine o’clock, the
President and Mr. Blaine left it and entered the ladies’ waiting-room,
which they passed through arm in arm. A moment afterwards, as they were
passing through the door into the main room two pistol shots suddenly
rang out upon the air. Mr. Blaine saw a man running, and started toward
him, but turned almost immediately and saw that THE PRESIDENT HAD
FALLEN! It was instantly realized that the shots had been directed with
fatal accuracy at the beloved President. Mr. Blaine sprang toward him,
as did several others, and raised his head from the floor.
Postmaster-General James, Secretary Windom, and Secretary Lincoln, who
had arrived earlier at the train, were promenading on the platform
outside. They, together with the policemen who were on duty in the
neighborhood, immediately rushed to the spot where their fallen chief
lay weltering in blood. A moment afterwards the assassin was discovered,
and before he could lose himself in the crowd the miserable miscreant
was confronted by the rigid, passionate faces and strong uplifted arms
of those to whom their own lives were but a bauble if they might save
the President. The dastardly wretch cowered before them, and in the
middle of B Street, just outside of the dépôt, was seized by the
policemen and disarmed. A pistol of very heavy caliber was wrenched out
of his hand, and it became clear that a large ball had entered the
President’s body. The assassin gave his name as Charles Jules Guiteau,
and begged to be taken safely to jail. He was instantly hurried to
police head-quarters and confined; and it was well for him that he was
thus out of the way of the angry populace, who would not have hesitated
to put an instant and tragic end to his despicable career.
The poor President was borne on a couch to a room in the second story,
and a preliminary examination of his wounds was made; but the ball,
which had entered the right side of his back, near the spinal column and
immediately over the hip bone, could not be found. The sufferer moaned
at intervals, but otherwise uttered no complaint; was conscious at all
times except when under the influence of opiates, and was cheerful.
When, in answer to his eager question, the physicians informed him that
he had “one chance in a hundred” of living, he said calmly and bravely:
“Then, doctor, we will take that chance!” Before he was removed from the
dépôt his heart turned anxiously to his wife, and to her he dictated, by
Colonel Rockwell, the following touching and loyal dispatch:
“_Mrs. Lucretia R. Garfield_:
“The President wishes me to say to you from him that he has been
seriously hurt. How seriously he can not yet say. He is himself, and
hopes you will come to him soon. He sends his love to you.
“A. F. ROCKWELL.”
Colonel H. C. Corbin, Assistant Adjutant-General, immediately
telegraphed for a special train to convey Mrs. Garfield to Washington,
and frequent dispatches, giving the latest intelligence of the
President’s condition, were sent to meet her at different stations. In a
few minutes after the shooting several physicians were beside the
wounded President. First of those who were summoned was Dr. D. W. Bliss,
who from first to last remained in charge as chief attending surgeon.
Associated with him were Surgeon-General J. K. Barnes and Drs. J. J.
Woodward and Robert Reyburn. It was at once determined to remove the
President to the White House at the earliest practicable moment. Within
a half hour preparations to that end had been made. At ten o’clock every
thing was in readiness. The main room of the dépôt building was cleared,
and in a few moments the wounded President was borne through the
building and placed in an ambulance which was in waiting on the outside.
He bore the removal with great fortitude, not uttering a complaint or
groan. The ambulance was surrounded by a cordon of police, and the
horses were whipped into a gallop all the way to the White House. An
excited crowd followed at a run, but were stopped at the White House,
and none but a select few admitted.
Meanwhile the excitement was at fever heat throughout the panic-struck
city. Even before leaving the dépôt the pressure for admittance to the
room where the President was lying was so great that the police could
not keep back the crowd. Men persisted that they must see the President,
despite the surgeons’ orders that the room and hallways must not be
filled up. Upon the arrival of the ambulance at the White House the
gates of the Executive grounds were immediately closed and guarded by
soldiers and policemen, and nobody was admitted without authority from
the President’s private secretary. Those members of the Cabinet who were
not at the dépôt when the shooting took place were immediately summoned,
and all of them remained in attendance at the Executive Mansion during
the day.
After the President’s removal, he began to react from the first shock of
the wound. Several encouraging dispatches were sent out. At 11:30 A. M.
the first official bulletin was issued by the physicians in attendance.
It was as follows:
“The President has returned to his normal condition. Will make
another examination soon. His pulse is now 63.”
An hour later a second bulletin was issued:
“The reaction from the shot injury has been very gradual. The
patient is suffering some pain, but it is thought best not to
disturb him by making an exploration for the ball until after the
consultation at 3 P. M.”
From that hour, however, the symptoms became unfavorable; and at 2:45 P.
M. the following unofficial dispatch was issued:
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 2:45 P. M.
“No official bulletin has been furnished by Dr. Bliss since 1
o’clock. The condition of the President has been growing more
unfavorable since that time. Internal hemorrhage is taking place,
and the gravest fears are felt as to the result.”
As yet no critical knowledge of the President’s injury had been reached.
There was nothing on which the people could base a judgment of the
relative probabilities of recovery and death. The shadows of evening
gathered, and the darkness of night settled over fifty millions of
sorrowing people.
The minds of all naturally reverted to the assassin. The hope was
cherished that he would prove to be a lunatic or madman, and that the
American people would thus be spared the horrid contemplation of a
cold-blooded attempt against the life of the noble statesman who had
been called by the voice of his countrymen to the highest place of
honor. This hope, however, was soon dispelled. The assassin was found to
be a mixture of fool and fanatic, who, in his previous career, had
managed to build up, on a basis of total depravity, a considerable
degree of scholarship. He was a lawyer by profession, and had made a
pretense of practicing in several places—more particularly in Chicago.
In that city and elsewhere he had made a reputation both malodorous and
detestable. In the previous spring, about the time of the inauguration,
he had gone to Washington to advance a claim to be Consul-General at
Paris. He had sought and obtained interviews with both the President and
Mr. Blaine, and pretended to believe that the former was on the point of
dismissing the present consul at Paris to make a place for himself!
Hanging about the Executive Mansion and the Department of State for
several weeks, he seems to have conceived an intense hatred of the
President, and to have determined on the commission of the crime. Unless
his motive can be found in this, it would seem impossible to discover
for what reason his foul and atrocious deed was committed. In the whole
history of crime, it would, perhaps, be impossible to find a single
example of a criminal with a moral nature so depraved and loathsome as
that displayed by Guiteau in the cell to which he was consigned.
_The second day._—The morning was anxiously awaited. The first news from
Washington gave grounds of hope. The President’s mind had remained
clear, and his admirable courage had had a marked effect in staying his
bodily powers against the fearful effects of the wound. Mrs. Garfield
had, meanwhile, reached Washington, and was at her husband’s bedside.
Both were hopeful against the dreadful odds, and both resolved to face
the issue with unfaltering trust. In the course of the early morning the
President was able to take nourishment, thus gaining a small measure of
that strength so needful in the coming struggle. The morning bulletins
from the attending surgeons were as follows:
“WASHINGTON, July 3, 2:45 A. M.
“The President has been quietly sleeping much of the time since 9 P.
M., awakening for a few moments every half hour. He has not vomited
since 1 A. M., and is now taking some nourishment for the first time
since his injury. Pulse, 124; temperature, normal; respiration, 18.
“D. W. BLISS, M. D.
“4 A. M.—The President has just awakened, greatly refreshed, and has
not vomited since 1 A. M., having taken milk and lime-water on each
occasion, frequently asking for it. Pulse, 120—fuller and of
decidedly more character; temperature, 98 2–10; respiration, 18. The
patient is decidedly more cheerful, and has amused himself and
watchers by telling a laughable incident of his early career.
“D. W. BLISS, M. D.
“6 A. M.—The President’s rest has been refreshing during the night,
and only broken at intervals of about half hours by occasional pain
in the feet, and to take his nourishment of milk and lime-water and
bits of cracked ice, to relieve the thirst, which has been constant.
He is cheerful and hopeful, and has from the first manifested the
most remarkable courage and fortitude.
“7:50 A. M.—This morning the physicians decide that no effort will
be made at present to extract the ball, as its presence in the
location determined does not necessarily interfere with the ultimate
recovery of the President.
“7:57 A. M.—Most of the members of the Cabinet who watched at the
Executive Mansion last night remained until a late hour this
morning.
“11 A. M.—The President’s condition is greatly improved. He secures
sufficient refreshing sleep; and, during his waking hours, is
cheerful, and is inclined to discuss pleasant topics. Pulse,
106—with more full and safe expression; temperature and respiration,
normal.
“D. W. BLISS, M. D.”
In the afternoon of the second memorable day, however, the President’s
symptoms grew worse, and news well calculated to alarm was telegraphed
to all parts of the country. Of one thing there could be no doubt, and
that was that the heart of the Nation was stirred to its profoundest
depths, and that the whole civilized world was in sympathy with the
American people and their stricken head. In London the news created the
profoundest sensation. The Queen, from Windsor Palace, at once
telegraphed to learn the facts, and then ordered her Minister of Foreign
Affairs to send the following dispatch:
“_To Sir Edward Thornton, British Embassy, Washington_: The Queen
desires that you will at once express the horror with which she has
learned of the attempt upon the President’s life, and her earnest
hope for his recovery. Her Majesty wishes for full and immediate
reports as to his condition.
LORD GRANVILLE.”
From almost every civilized nation came similar messages of sympathy.
Hardly a distinguished man in America failed to go on record in some way
to express his horror and detestation of the crime that had been
committed. The spirit of party was utterly forgotten. The South and the
North were at last as one. The old Southern soldiers who had fought many
a fierce battle under Lee and Johnston, as well as the legionaries who
sprang up at the call of Lincoln, burst into tears at the thought of
Garfield bleeding!
The afternoon bulletins of this first sad Sunday of July were well
calculated to excite apprehension. The physicians said:
“2 P. M.—The President has slept a good deal since last bulletin,
though occasionally suffering from pain in both feet and ankles.
Pulse, 104; respiration, 18; temperature, nearly normal. While the
President is by no means out of danger, yet his symptoms continue
favorable.
“D. W. BLISS, M. D.
“6 P. M.—There is no appreciable danger since last bulletin. The
President sleeps well at intervals. Pulse, 108; temperature and
respiration normal.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD.
“10:30 P. M.—The condition of the President is less favorable.
Pulse, 120; temperature, 100; respiration, 20. He is more restless,
and again complains of the pain in his feet.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
_The third day._—For the American people the morning sun of the Glorious
Fourth shed only a disastrous twilight. Never before did this vast and
sensitive citizenship waken to the realization of such a Fourth. In
almost all parts of the country preparations had been made to observe
the day with more than the usual outburst of patriotism. All this was
turned to doubt and sorrow. The orator could speak of nothing but the
wounded President and his probable fate. The people would hear nothing
but dispatches that told of either reviving hope or coming despair. In
many cities and country places the celebration was wholly abandoned; in
others the ceremonies were changed so as to be in keeping with the great
national calamity. The people sat down in the shadow of their grief and
waited for the worst.
On the morning of the Fourth the distinguished Dr. D. Hayes Agnew, of
Philadelphia, and Dr. Frank H. Hamilton, of New York City, arrived at
Washington, having been called thither as consulting surgeons. On their
arrival they made a critical examination of the President’s condition
and the method of treatment adopted by the physicians in charge, and
thereupon issued the following bulletin:
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 8:15 A. M.
“We held a consultation with the physicians in charge of the
President’s case at 7 o’clock this morning, and approve in every
particular of the management and of the course of treatment that has
been pursued.
“FRANK H. HAMILTON, of New York.
“D. H. AGNEW, of Philadelphia.”
The regular announcement appeared at the same time and carried to the
people, far as the lightning’s wings could bear it, the following
message:
“8:15 A. M.—The condition of the President is not materially
different from that reported in the last bulletin (12:30 A. M.). He
has dozed at intervals during the night, and at times has complained
of the pain in his feet. The tympanitis has not sensibly increased.
Pulse, 108; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 19.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN,
“FRANK H. HAMILTON,
“D. HAYES AGNEW.”
To this bulletin was added the report of a free conversation with Dr.
Bliss, in which he said of the President’s condition and prospects:
“I admit that his state is very precarious, and the balance of
probabilities is not in his favor, and yet there is reasonable
ground for hope. We can not say that he is better or worse than he
was last night, except that he has gained eight hours of time, and
his strength appears not to have declined. The symptoms of
peritoneal inflammation are not more grave now than they were eight
hours ago.”
The morning wore away in suspense, and the noonday report of the
physicians was anxiously awaited. It was felt, however, that every hour
now added to the President’s life was a fair indication that he would
have some chance in the final struggle for recovery. Just after noon the
following report was issued by the surgeons:
“12:30 P. M.—There has been but little change in the President’s
condition since the last bulletin. Complains much less of the pain
in his feet. Light vomiting occasionally. Pulse, 110; temperature,
100; respiration, 24.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Meanwhile a diagnosis of the President’s condition had been made, and
though there was not entire unanimity as to the course of the ball and
the consequent character of the wound, yet the physicians gave it as
their opinion—some of them positively so declaring—that the ball, after
striking the President’s back above the twelfth rib and about two and a
half inches to the right of the spine, had plunged forward and downward,
fracturing the rib, penetrating the peritoneal cavity, piercing the
lower lobe of the liver, and lodging perhaps in the front wall of the
abdomen. The treatment during the first week after the President was
wounded was based upon this diagnosis, but gradually thereafter the idea
that the ball had traversed the body in the manner indicated was
abandoned and a modified theory adopted in its stead.[1]
Footnote 1:
The great error, as subsequently developed in the diagnosis of the
President’s case, seems clearly to have arisen from the fact, that
although the relative position of the assassin and his victim were
definitely ascertained and could be precisely marked on the floor of
the dépôt, yet _the axial position of the President’s body seems never
to have been considered_! It seems to have been taken for granted that
because the wound was in the back, therefore the assassin must have
stood _behind_ the President when he fired. So, in one sense, he
undoubtedly did, but in another he did not. The murderer’s position
was five feet away and _rather to the right side of the Chief
Magistrate_, and Guiteau should therefore be said to have stood at _an
acute side-angle_ and a little in the rear of his victim. This being
the real position of the President and his assailant, it will readily
be seen that the ball, instead of being “deflected,” as has been so
many times reiterated, really was very little turned from its course,
but plunged straight across the President’s back, going deeper and
deeper as it proceeded, until, having fractured the spine in front, it
was lodged in the thick tissues to the left of the vertebral column.
If the assassin had fired square at the President’s back, and the ball
had struck where it did strike, the President would have been a dead
man from the start. The axial position of the body was manifestly
overlooked in making the diagnosis.
As the Fourth wore away the fear of immediate death somewhat subsided.
At half-past seven in the evening the surgeons’ bulletin carried the
following message to the public:
“7:35 P. M.—The President this evening is not so comfortable. He
does not suffer so much from pain in the feet. The tympanitis is
again more noticeable. Pulse, 126; temperature, 101.9; respiration,
24. Another bulletin will be issued at 10 P. M., after which, in
order not to disturb the President unnecessarily, no further
bulletins will be issued until to-morrow morning.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Taken all in all the advices during the day respecting the President’s
condition had been more encouraging than those of the day before, when
despondency seemed to be making itself generally felt in Washington and
throughout the country.
An unofficial bulletin at midnight—the last issued for the day—announced
a further improvement, the pulse and temperature having again changed
slightly for the better. At that hour the President was sleeping
quietly. The peritoneal inflammation had decreased somewhat during the
evening, and there was, generally speaking, a larger ground for hope.
During the day from the extremes of the earth had come the profoundest
expressions of sorrow for the great calamity to the Republic. From
Prince Charles, of Bucharest, was received the following touching
dispatch:
“BUCHAREST, CATROCINI, July 4, 1881.
“_To President Garfield, Washington_:
“I have learned with the greatest indignation, and deplore most
deeply, the horrible attempt against your precious life, and beg you
to accept my warmest wishes for your quick recovery.
CHARLES.”
On the same day from far-off Japan this message of sympathy was sent to
the Minister resident of the Royal Government at Washington:
“TOKIO, July 4, 1881.
“_To Yoshida, Japanese Minister, Washington_:
“The dispatch announcing an attempt upon the life of the President
has caused here profound sorrow, and you are hereby instructed to
convey, in the name of His Majesty, to the Government of the United
States, the deepest sympathy and hope that his recovery will be
speedy. Make immediate and full report regarding the sad event.
“WOOYERO,
“Acting Minister for Foreign Affairs.”
So the sun went down upon the national anniversary, and the stars of the
summer night looked upon an anxious and stricken people.
_The fourth day._—The morning of the 5th of July broke with a more
cheerful message. The President was decidedly better. The improvement in
his condition was noticed shortly before midnight of Monday, and had
become marked. The first bulletin of the morning was so reassuring that
the feeling of relief became general, and a cheerful hopefulness
succeeded the dread of the previous day. The crowds of anxious people in
all parts of the country returned slowly to their vocations—not, indeed,
with a feeling of security, but with a good degree of hope for the
President’s ultimate recovery. The members of the Cabinet experienced
such a sense of relief that they were enabled to give consideration to
their official duties. The President’s physicians, while not taking a
sanguine view of his case, did not discourage the hope of final
recovery. The President—so said the bulletins—took nourishment and
retained it. His pulse was lower throughout the day, and altogether his
symptoms were such as to afford no little encouragement. The first
official bulletin was issued at half-past eight in the morning. It was
as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a comfortable night, and his
condition this morning is decidedly more favorable. There has been
no vomiting since last evening at 8 o’clock, and he has been able to
retain the liquid nourishment administered. There is less tympanitis
and no abdominal tenderness except in the wounded region. Pulse,
114; temperature, 100.5; respiration, 24.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Drs. Agnew and Hamilton had both, in the meantime, been called to their
homes. To them the attending surgeons communicated their views of the
President’s condition more fully in a message during the forenoon, as
follows:
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 9:30 A. M.
“After you left the urgent symptom continued. There was much
restlessness, constant slight vomiting, and by 8 o’clock P. M. the
President’s condition seemed even more serious than when you saw
him. Since then the symptoms have gradually become more favorable.
There has been no vomiting nor regurgitation of fluid from the
stomach since 8 o’clock last evening.
“The President has slept a good deal during the night, and this
morning expresses himself as comparatively comfortable. The
spasmodic pains in the lower extremities have entirely disappeared,
leaving behind, however, much muscular soreness and tenderness to
the touch. There is less tympanitis, and no abdominal tenderness
whatever, except in the hepatic region. Since 8 P. M. he has taken
an ounce and a-half of chicken broth every two hours, and has
retained all. The wound was again dressed antiseptically this
morning. Altogether but one-half a grain of morphia has been
administered hypodermically during the last twenty-four hours, and
it has been found quite sufficient. His pulse, however, still keeps
up. At 8:30 A. M. it was 114; temperature, 100.5; respiration, 24.
Seventy-two hours have now elapsed since the wound was received. We
can not but feel encouraged this morning, although, of course, we do
not overlook any of the perils that still beset the path toward
recovery. The course of treatment agreed upon will be steadily
pursued.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
In the course of the day the feeling of confidence grew apace. There
were not wanting many grave apprehensions, the most serious of all being
the fear that the dreaded peritonitis would set in and destroy the
President’s life. But the hours crept by, and no symptoms of such
inflammation appeared. The President, though restless and somewhat
weakened, kept in good courage; and during the forenoon, awaking from
sleep, denounced with not a little spirit the “wishy-washy” food which
the doctors prescribed for him. During the day it was quite clearly
determined from the natural indications of the case, that, contrary to
the previously expressed views of the attending physicians, the
President’s internal organs had not been perforated by the ball. This
discovery gave additional grounds of hope. The noonday bulletin
strengthened rather than discouraged the idea of ultimate recovery:
“12:30 P. M.—The favorable condition of the symptoms reported in the
last bulletin continues. There has been no recurrence of the
vomiting. Pulse, 110; temperature, 101; respiration, 24. The
President lies at present in a natural sleep. No further bulletins
will be issued till 8:30 P. M., unless in case of an unfavorable
change.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Under the assurances given by the surgeons the people began to find time
to discuss the collateral circumstances of the crime, the character of
the criminal, what should be his punishment, the course of events in
case of President Garfield’s death, and the danger in general to be
apprehended from political assassins. At first it was believed that the
criminal had committed the deed on account of rebuffs received in
seeking an appointment. This, Guiteau himself stoutly denied, declaring
that he had tried to destroy the President wholly and solely _for the
good of the country, and at the command of God_! He had been influenced
only by high and patriotic motives! When the people came to understand
the reasons why he had shot the President, against whom he had not the
slightest enmity, they would change their mind as to him and his deed!
Every utterance of the monstrous villain was of the self-same character,
and to all his loathsome speeches was added the disgusting cowardice
which he constantly exhibited in his cell.
Many incidents in the previous life of Guiteau came to the surface and
were published. It was found that he had come to Washington shortly
after March 4. On April 8 he made his appearance at the Navy Department
library and registered his name on the visitors’ book. He returned on
April 14, and from that time up to the time of the adjournment of the
Senate he was a daily visitor. On one occasion he had told the
librarian, Captain J. Ross Browne, that he was going to be appointed
Consul to France. He had been on hand every day, sometimes before the
library was opened, and remained all day. He had never shown himself
very communicative, and when spoken to he responded in monosyllables. He
seemed to be of a morose disposition, but was quiet and orderly in his
manner. While in the library he sat in a corner reading a book. He had
thus read Lang’s _American Battles_, and frequently called for the
manual of the Consular Service, over which he would sit pouring for
hours. The last book he had read was John Russell Young’s _Tour of
General Grant_. Mr. Browne one day said to him: “I should think if you
wanted a place you ought to be up at the Senate or at the State
Department. Some one will get ahead of you.”
“I can attend to my own affairs,” was the rather sullen retort, and then
glancing up suspiciously, he asked: “Have you told any one about my
place?” Further efforts at conversation he repulsed.
The possible event of the President’s death was a subject of the gravest
anxiety. It was well known that Vice-President Arthur had not, in the
recent imbroglio between the friends of the administration and Senator
Conkling, been in sympathy with the President. It was to the Senator
indeed that General Arthur owed his nomination. And so among the
immediate supporters of the President and a large part of the people
generally, there were, in prospect of the Chief Magistrate’s death, deep
forebodings of a disastrous reversal of the policy of the government and
a universal uproar in the circles of office-holding. General Arthur
became the central figure among the possibilities of the future. To the
Vice-President the situation was exceedingly trying; but fortunately for
the good name of the Republic he so demeaned himself as to win universal
respect. His whole bearing from the day of the crime to the close of the
scene was such as to indicate the profoundest sorrow and anxiety. His
forbearance from comment, beyond giving expression to his grief, was
noticed as the result of the exercise of sound common sense under trying
circumstances, and the hasty opinions which had been pressed in many
quarters when the worst was feared were quickly revised and recalled.[2]
General Arthur visited the Executive Mansion on the afternoon of the
5th, and remained for an hour in conversation with members of the
Cabinet. He did not see the President, the physicians deeming it unwise
to admit him. The members of the Cabinet, however, spoke of him in terms
of warm friendliness, feeling that he fully shared with them the
sympathy and sorrow which they entertained in common with the Nation at
large.
Footnote 2:
The only farcical thing which has happened in connection with the dark
tragedy has been the miserable and ludicrous shuffling of the base
crowd of office-holders and office-seekers which clung to General
Garfield’s skirts, denouncing and abusing General Arthur and his
friends until the possibility of his accession to power dawned on the
minds of the patriots. The quickness which they displayed in
discovering the latent virtues of the Vice-President and advancing
themselves to the rank of his most ardent supporters, even before the
illustrious dead was consigned to his grave, was a picture full of the
most disgusting subserviency of the place-hunter.
The evening bulletin, issued at half-past eight o’clock, was briefly as
follows:
“8:30 P. M.—The condition of the President continues as favorable as
at the last bulletin. Pulse, 106; temperature, 100.9; respiration,
24. No further bulletin will be issued till to-morrow morning,
unless in case of an unfavorable change.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
At eleven o’clock of this (Tuesday) evening, Secretary Blaine sent out a
dispatch announcing, as the result of the day, “a substantial gain.”
_The fifth day._—It was now the crisis of summer. The intense heat was
an unfavorable circumstance with which the physicians in charge of the
wounded President had to contend. Wednesday was ushered in with a
fearfully high temperature. In order to relieve the President as far as
possible from the oppression caused by the intense heat, the attending
physicians put into operation a simple refrigerating apparatus, which it
was thought would render the atmosphere of his room much more
comfortable than it had been hitherto. It consisted of a number of
troughs of galvanized iron, about ten inches in width and fourteen feet
in length, placed on the floor along the walls, and filled with water
and broken ice. Over these troughs, and corresponding with them in
length, were suspended sheets of flannel, the lower edges of which were
immersed in the ice-water which filled the troughs. The water was thus
absorbed and carried upward by capillary attraction in the flannel, as
oil is in the wick of a lamp, until the sheets were saturated. This cold
water, both by direct contact with the air, and by the rapid evaporation
which took place over the extended surface of the saturated flannel,
lowered the temperature of the room. Very soon after this apparatus was
put into operation, it made a perceptible change in the temperature, and
the President was greatly refreshed. The morning bulletin was given to
the public at half-past eight. It said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a most comfortable night, and
has slept well. His condition has remained throughout as favorable
as when the last bulletin was issued. The pulse is becoming less
frequent, and is now 98; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 23.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
This was decidedly the best report which the physicians had yet been
able to make. The effect was immediate and wide-spread. What might
almost be called a feeling of confidence supervened; the channels of
trade flowed on, and the people were elated at the prospect of a
complete restoration to life and the duties of his high office of him
whom their votes had raised to that high eminence. In all parts of the
world expressions of sympathy continued to be given and transmitted to
our Government.
His Majesty, the Emperor of Germany, inquired with great anxiety about
the condition of President Garfield, and directed his Charge d’Affaires,
Count Beust, to inform him thereof by cable. In consequence of Count
Beust’s report, His Majesty ordered him to express to Secretary Blaine
his satisfaction on account of the favorable information, and his best
wishes for the speedy recovery of the President. Count Beust, in
obedience to the wishes of his Government, and in manifestation of his
personal sympathy, called three times during the day at the Executive
Mansion.
The noonday bulletin was brief, but satisfactory:
“12:30 P. M.—The President remains quite as comfortable as at the
date of the last bulletin. He takes his nourishment well. Pulse,
100; temperature, 99.7; respiration, 23.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Presently, after this report was made, the attending physicians sent to
the consulting surgeons a somewhat lengthy dispatch, stating in detail
the progress of the President’s case. The general effect of this, as
well as of the previous bulletin, was further to allay public anxiety
and to strengthen the belief that the President would triumph in the
fearful struggle which he was making against the effects of his wound.
And to this end, whatever the faith and hope of a great and sincere
people could do to alleviate and save was gladly and earnestly given in
sympathy and words of cheer. The bulletin of the evening was in the same
general tone as the two preceding. It said:
“8:30 P. M.—The President’s condition continues as favorable as at
last report. He has passed a very comfortable day, taking more
nourishment than yesterday. Pulse, 104; temperature, 100.6;
respiration, 23. Unless unfavorable symptoms develop, no further
bulletins will be issued until to-morrow morning.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Altogether, the day was the least eventful—certainly the least
exciting—of any since the great crime was committed. Discussions as to
the character of the President’s injury, and of the probable disposition
of Guiteau, took the place of those eager inquiries and indignant
comments of the first few days after the deed was done.
_The sixth day._—The morning brought nothing in the nature of the
unexpected, in relation to the President’s condition or his
surroundings. If his chances for recovery had not advanced, they had at
least not become less than on the previous day. Callers at the White
House came and departed in considerable numbers, and the natural
tendency of the human mind to build high hopes upon narrow foundations,
served to keep the general public, as well as those having more intimate
relations with the President, in excellent spirits. While a hundred
dangers yet surrounded the path toward restored health, confidence that
the courageous Chief Magistrate would travel that path in safety,
prevailed more and more. During the day, Dr. Boynton, of Cleveland, for
a long time the friend of the President’s family, and recently the
attending physician in the case of Mrs. Garfield’s protracted illness,
reached Washington, and although not invited to become one of the
consulting surgeons, he took his place as an attendant upon the
President, and remained near him to the end. The morning bulletin was
almost sanguine in its tone:
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 9:15 A. M.
“The President has passed a most comfortable night, and continues
steadily to improve. He is cheerful, and asks for additional food.
Pulse, 94; temperature, 99.1; respiration, 23. There will be no
further bulletins issued until 1 o’clock.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
This report incited additional hope, and the belief prevailed more and
more, both in medical circles and among the people at large, that the
President would win the battle. One of the episodes of the day was the
publication of a letter from Senator Conkling, which, though really an
earnest expression of sympathy for the President and his family, was
largely devoted to the question as to whether a discrimination should
not be made in the punishment of _attempted_ murder, based on the rank
of the person assailed. The distinction was drawn between murder, which
seems to require the same punishment whoever may be the victim, and the
_attempt_ to murder. The Senator’s letter was addressed to
Attorney-General MacVeagh, and was as follows:
“FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL, NEW YORK, July 5, 1881.
“_My Dear Sir_: In the abhorrence with which all decent men alike
shudder at the attempt to murder the President, I have given thought
to a matter to which your attention may or may not have turned. Our
criminal code treats premeditated homicide in all cases alike,
irrespective of the victim. Murder being visited by the greatest
penalty, perhaps no distinction between one case and another could
be founded on the public relations held by the person slain. But in
case of attempt to murder broad distinctions can be made between
assailing the life of an individual, and an attempt to take a life
of special value to the whole people. The shocking occurrence of
Saturday I think demands that the definition and punishment of
assaults aimed at high executive officers, whether successful or
not, should be made thoroughly rigorous. The man who attempts the
life of the President, if morally responsible, commits an offense
which the Nation ought to guard against, and punish by the exertion
of all the power civilized nations may employ. I suggest this as
deserving consideration.
“My profound sympathies are with the President, and with all of you
every hour. The conflict of reports keeps hope and fear striving
with each other, with nothing stable except faith and trust, that
the worst is overpassed. I wish you would express to the President
my deepest sympathy in this hour, which should hush all discords and
enlist all prayers for his safe deliverance. Please also give to
Mrs. Garfield my most respectful condolence. Trusting that all will
be well, cordially yours,
“ROSCOE CONKLING.”
In the early afternoon another bulletin was issued by the surgeons. The
report said
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 1 P. M.
“The condition of the President continues quite as favorable as this
morning. Pulse, 100; temperature, 100.8; respiration, 23. Unless
some unfavorable change should occur no further bulletin will be
issued until 8:30 P. M.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
It was noticed during the day that the preparations made by the surgeons
in attendance on the President indicated their belief in a long illness,
and the public came to understand that an indefinite period of suspense
might be anticipated. As it related to the criminal, it was clear that
he would simply be held in custody until such time as might, by the
recovery or death of his victim, indicate the technical character of the
crime committed, and the punishment consequent thereon. The bulletins
sent abroad by Secretary Blaine during the day, especially the one
directed to Minister White at Berlin, stated that for the preceding
thirty-six hours the improvement in the President’s condition had been
steady and constant, and the evening report of the attending surgeons
was essentially a repetition of that issued in the afternoon.
_The seventh day._—With the morning of Friday there was practically no
change to record in the President’s condition. He had passed the night
as usual, sleeping and waking at intervals. The weather was excessively
hot. Many contrivances and machines were invented and offered to the
authorities, the purpose of which was to reduce, by mechanical means,
the temperature of the President’s apartment. Several of these
instruments were tried, and one, invented by Mr. Dorsey, a skillful
mining engineer, was selected and set up in the Executive Mansion. The
temperature of the room where the patient lay was thus brought under
control and reduced to the desired degree. The morning bulletin of the
surgeons was considered especially favorable:
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, July 8, 8:15 A. M.
“The condition of the President continues favorable. He is more
comfortable than on any previous morning. Pulse, 96; temperature,
92; respiration, 23. The wound is beginning to discharge laudable
pus.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Soon after this report was issued, however, there was an unfavorable
turn in the case, and one of those flurries of excitement, so common in
the subsequent history of the President’s progress, occurred. The
President grew restless, and complained of weariness. The temperature
and pulse and respiration ran up, indicating the presence of
considerable fever. This change, however, was explained by the
physicians as the necessary concomitant of suppuration then beginning in
the wound. The noonday bulletin was brief:
“12:30 P. M.—The progress of the President’s case continues to be
favorable. Pulse, 108; temperature, 101.4; respiration, 24.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
One of the marked circumstances attending the tragic event, the course
of which is outlined in these pages, was the universal desire of the
American people to do something to contribute towards the President’s
recovery. It would be vain to attempt to enumerate the thousand and one
expedients and suggestions which, out of the goodness of the popular
heart, came from every direction. Each out of his own nature added his
own gift. The poet contributed his verse; the physician, his cure; the
inventor, his contrivance; the gardener, his choicest cluster; and even
the crazy beldam her modicum of witchcraft. From the center of the
crowded city to the remotest corners of the prairie the slightest
syllable of indifference to the President’s condition would have been
instantly resented—first with a look of contempt and then with a blow.
The evening bulletin, though pitched in a tone of encouragement, still
indicated fever:
“8 P. M.—The President’s condition continues favorable. He has
passed a very comfortable afternoon, and has taken more nutriment
than on previous days. Pulse, 108; temperature, 101.3; respiration,
24. The conditions continue so favorable that there will be no
further bulletin until to-morrow morning.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
During the day a brief but touching dispatch was received from the
surviving members of the family of the Marquis de LaFayette. Another
message came from St. Petersburg expressing, as well it might, the
horror of the Czar and his government for the crime of assassination.[3]
A third was received from the minister for foreign affairs of the
Argentine Republic, expressing the sorrow of that government for the
great crime which had darkened the annals of American history.
Footnote 3:
One of the follies which prevailed to a greater or less degree in
connection with the shooting of the President, was the attempt to draw
a parallel between that event and the recent killing of the Czar
Alexander. There was no parallel at all. The Czar died in the cause of
despotism; Garfield, in the cause of liberty. The one was killed by
his own people, whose rights he and his House had trampled in the
dust; the other was shot down by a villainous fool who sprang out like
a coiled rattlesnake upon the innocent and beloved ruler of a free
people, who would have died by thousands to save his life. Let us hear
no more of the likeness between the deaths of Garfield and Alexander
II.
_The eighth day._—A week had now elapsed since the President was
wounded. His condition was not materially changed. His will and courage
were unimpaired, and the reports of the surgeons and attendants
indicated—indeed positively declared—a continual improvement. During the
day, for the first time since the President was wounded, the three
younger members of his family were permitted to visit their father, one
at a time. The President had repeatedly asked for them, but it had not
been thought advisable to gratify his wish before. Vice-President Arthur
also called during the morning.
The morning bulletin appeared as usual, and was as follows:
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, July 9, 8:30 A. M.
“The President has passed a tranquil night, and this morning
expresses himself as feeling quite comfortable. We regard the
general progress of the case as very satisfactory. Pulse, this
morning, 100; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 24.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
Whatever might be the progress of the President’s wound towards
recovery, there could be no doubt that the vigor of his mental faculties
was nearly up to the standard of health. At times, indeed, there seemed
to be an unusual, and, perhaps, unnatural, exhilaration of his
faculties. He heard every thing, and was eager to talk and to read the
papers. Of course, all exciting causes were excluded by the physicians,
but the President was restless under the restraint. Sometimes he wished
to debate questions with his attendants, and, anon, when that was
forbidden, he would indulge in some pleasantry, as was his custom in
health. The surgeons noticed that he managed to convey a great deal in a
few words. Sometimes he comprised sentences into a single expression.
When some one told him that the heart of the people was in bed with him,
he replied: “Sore heart.” He did not complain, however; not a querulous
word escaped his lips. When he was inclined to debate propositions, and
reasons were given him why a thing should be thus, he was very ready to
point out any weakness in the reasoning. In a word, the President was
himself, and retained possession of all his mental faculties.
The afternoon and evening bulletins were issued at the usual hours. They
said:
“1 P. M.—The condition of the President continues to be favorable.
Pulse, 104; temperature, 101.2; respiration, 22. The next bulletin
will be issued at 8 P. M.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
“8:15 P. M.—The President’s condition has continued favorable during
the day. The febrile reaction does not differ materially from that
of yesterday. Pulse, 108; temperature, 101.9; respiration, 24.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
So, after a week of intense anxiety, the twilight of Saturday evening
closed around the world, hiding in its folds alike the hopes and the
fears of the people.
_The ninth day._—It was Sunday again. The Christian public had, from the
first, taken up the President’s cause with heartfelt anxiety. Scarcely a
pulpit or pew in the land had failed to respond in yearning and prayer
for his recovery. This anxiety had been confined to no sect or creed or
party. From Romanist to Free-Churchman it was all one voice of sympathy
and entreaty to heaven for the President’s life. In greater or less
degree, millions of men found in themselves a change of feeling, and a
growth of appreciation, of thorough trust and of high regard, as they
looked anxiously to the bedside of the President. His calm resignation
and readiness to meet death, with his cool courage and unwavering
resolution to do his best to preserve a life useful and precious to
millions; his patient endurance of pain, and of all the restraints
deemed essential to his recovery; his tenderness of feeling and his
royal strength of will, made him loved with an unspeakable love by
millions of true-hearted men and women throughout the land. It was not
too much to say that the week which had elapsed had lifted the National
standard of true Christian manhood for all time to come. The whole
nation was educated by the affliction of one. The people will, perhaps,
never realize how much they learned by the bedside of the wounded
President. In knowledge of merely material things the whole Nation grew
wiser. It had been studying physical injuries, their nature and
treatment, with such intense interest, that there were thousands of
school-boys who knew more of such subjects than their fathers did when
the crime was committed. This, however, was an insignificant part of the
knowledge gained. Moral culture was advanced; how much, the people could
but surmise. There were millions of men and women who realized, as they
had never done before, the value of calm fortitude, resolute will, and
strict obedience in time of trial.
The first bulletin of Sunday morning was specially encouraging. It said:
WASHINGTON, July 10, 8 A. M.
“The President has passed the most comfortable night he has
experienced since he was wounded, sleeping tranquilly, and with few
breaks. The general progress of his symptoms continues to be
favorable. Pulse, 106; temperature, 100; respiration, 23.
“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”
The church services of the day were almost exclusively devoted to
sermons on the lessons derived and derivable from the Nation’s sorrow,
and to prayers for the restoration of the beloved Chief Magistrate.
Lessons not a few were drawn from the great national catastrophe, and
more particularly from the example which the afflicted chieftain had set
to all the people—an example so full of patience and courage as to be
cited in praise and panegyric for all time to come. For more than a week
it had been as if the Nation were sitting at the bedside of a man in
sore distress, counting his pulses, noting his temperature and
breathing, and listening for every whispered word. But neither the
imminent presence of death nor the agony of long-continued suffering had
drawn from the President a single word of anger or vindictiveness toward
any one. Such a lesson was not to be lost on the American people, and it
was clearly foreseen that if his life should be spared, he would rise to
an influence over the public mind and destiny not equaled in the case of
any man since the days of Lincoln. In the early afternoon, and again in
the evening, the usual bulletins came with brief but encouraging words
from the surgeons:
“1 P. M.—The President’s symptoms continue to be favorable. Pulse,
102; temperature, 100.5; respiration, 22. 7 P. M.—The President’s
symptoms continue to make favorable progress. Pulse, 108;
temperature, 101.9; respiration, 24.”
Unofficial information from the President’s bedside was, however, less
favorable than the official reports. Many candid and cautious observers
about the sick-room were more apprehensive than the physicians seemed to
be, that the President was not so clearly on the road to recovery as
could have been hoped. Among the latter was Professor B. A. Hinsdale, of
Hiram College, who sent to Cleveland during the day a dispatch for
publication among the old friends of the Garfield family, in which he
said:
“The President is by no means out of danger, and I do not think it
wise for people to settle down in a belief that he is. Of course we
have a strong reason to hope that he will recover, but people ought
to remember that the road to recovery will be a long one, beset with
many dangers.”
One of the peculiarities of the President’s case was the invariable
cheerfulness of the patient. He seemed to regard it as a part of his
duty to keep those about him in good spirits, and to aid the physicians
in the work of bringing him through. He frequently asked to see the
bulletins, and sometimes made humorous remarks about their contents. His
food was many times a subject of some jest, and when it did not suit
him, he had his revenge by perpetrating some pleasant satire about the
offending article, or the cooks who had prepared it. On one occasion,
the President asked for a drink, whereupon Major Swaim handed him some
milk, to which the physicians had added a small quantity of old rum. The
President, after drinking it, looked at Major Swaim with a dissatisfied
expression, and said: “Swaim, that’s a rum dose, isn’t it?” On other
occasions the sufferer spoke gravely, but always hopefully, of his
conditions and prospects, expressing the most earnest hopes for speedy
and perfect recovery.
_The tenth day._—The weather was still oppressive, and the President was
distressed with the heat. The artificial contrivances hitherto employed
to reduce the temperature of his room, and to maintain the same at a
given degree, had been but partly successful. An effort was now made on
a more elaborate scale to overcome the heat by artificial means, and
thus to furnish the President as much comfort as a moderate and equable
temperature could afford. Monday, the eleventh of July, was mostly
devoted to this work. Several fire-engines and large cast-iron boilers
were put in position near the east basement door of the White House, and
carpenters and machinists were set to work putting up apparatus of
enormous proportions, connected with the ventilating machinery.
Locomotive head-lights to illuminate the scene were supplied, so that
there should be no interruption until the work was done. The basis of
the refrigerating apparatus was the Jennings machine, heretofore
referred to; but Professor Newcomb and Major Powell jointly assisted in
perfecting some additional appliances for drying and purifying the air
to be admitted to the sick chamber. Several other devices of an entirely
different character were brought to the attention of the physicians in
attendance, and experimental machinery was set up to exhibit some of
them, but they were mostly unsuccessful. The President was not aware of
the efforts of their inventors to benefit him.
[Illustration: DR. D. W. BLISS.]
But by means of the Jennings machine an even temperature of 77°
Fahrenheit was preserved in the sick room, and the capacity of the
machinery was found to be sufficient to reduce the temperature several
degrees lower, if it should be thought necessary to do so. The windows
of the President’s room remained open, so that the air which was forced
into his chamber found ready exit, thus insuring perfect ventilation.
The bulletin issued by the surgeons on Monday morning was more
encouraging. The report said:
“July 11—8 A. M.—The President passed a comfortable night, and his
condition shows an improvement over that of yesterday. Pulse, 98;
temperature, 99.2; respiration, 22.”
The President continued talkative. Only the positive injunction of the
physicians could keep him from speaking out on all subjects that came
into his mind. During the day he indulged in his accustomed pun. To one
of his attendants he said, jocosely: “I wish I could get up on my feet;
I would like to see whether I have any backbone left or not!” The sly
backward look at the recent political struggle in which his
administration had been engaged, involving the question of the
presidential backbone, was not bad for a sick man battling for his life.
Justly or unjustly, the regular bulletins came to be somewhat distrusted
by the people. The feeling began to spread that, although the naked
facts of temperature, pulse, and respiration reported in the bulletins
were not to be questioned as to their accuracy, yet the comments and
construction put by the attending surgeons upon the facts, were too
rose-colored to meet the conditions of exact truth. At the same time
this opinion gained ground with the public, a feeling of quite implicit
confidence sprang up respecting the official reports of the President’s
condition sent abroad, more especially in reference to those sent to
Lowell, Minister at St. James, by Secretary Blaine. These messages from
the principal member of the President’s cabinet came, by and by, to be
looked for with fully as much confidence as to their accuracy as did the
surgeons’ official bulletins. On the 11th of July, Secretary Blaine sent
out one of these messages which gave great comfort, as follows:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“At the beginning of the tenth day since he was wounded, the
symptoms of the President are all hopeful and favorable. Suppuration
goes on with no higher pulse or temperature than should be expected.
His milk diet, of a pint and a half per day, is relished and
digested. His physical strength keeps up wonderfully, and his mind
is entirely clear and active, without showing excitement. His
physicians do not count him beyond danger, but the general
confidence in his recovery is strengthened every hour.
“BLAINE, Secretary.”
Later in the day, however, the condition of the President was less
favorable than that presented in Mr. Blaine’s dispatch, and the evening
bulletin was constrained to admit a higher fever than at any time
previously. The afternoon and evening official reports were as follows:
“1 P. M.—The favorable progress of the President continues. Pulse,
106; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 24. 7 P. M.—The President has
had rather more fever this afternoon. In other respects, his
condition is unchanged. Pulse, 108; temperature, 102.8; respiration,
24.”
_The eleventh day._—As the President’s case progressed, the public
became divided in their views of the prospect of recovery. Physicians
themselves disagreed as to both the diagnosis and the treatment of the
President’s injury. The distinguished Dr. Hammond, of New York, did not
hesitate openly to condemn the course pursued by the attending surgeons.
Other noted physicians, not a few, held similar opinions; and a series
of able and exhaustive articles appeared in the New York _Herald_,
criticising with severity the methods and views of those who were
immediately responsible for the management of the case. The attending
surgeons were considerably annoyed by these strictures, and many sharp
replies were returned to those physicians who, without having personally
examined the President’s wound, ventured to express definite opinions on
questions which those for more than a week in immediate attendance upon
the patient, had been unable to decide. The newspapers also divided, one
part of them publishing all the favorable, and the other all the
unfavorable news from the sick chamber of the White House. The former
felt called upon to explain away every unfavorable symptom which
appeared; and the latter, to becloud all the favorable news with doubt.
This diversion in public opinion continued manifest during the remainder
of the President’s illness.
The first news for Tuesday, the 12th of July, came in the bulletins of
the surgeons, and was as follows:
“8 A. M.—The President is comfortable this morning. Pulse, 96;
temperature, 99.6; respiration, 22.”
[Illustration: SURGEON-GENERAL J. K. BARNES.]
In addition to these regular reports of the attending physicians, much
unofficial information of the President’s condition was constantly given
to the public through the daily press. Nearly all of the leading
newspapers had regular correspondents at the Capital, and the reports
which they sent each day were quite extended and generally full of
interest. These unofficial communications were, in large part, made up
of conversations which the reporters held from time to time with the
surgeons and nurses of the President; and, although in many cases the
news sent out from these sources was conflicting and contradictory, yet
the public was greatly indebted to the industry and skill with which
each morning’s accounts were prepared. During the 12th of July, Dr. F.
H. Hamilton, one of the consulting surgeons, was asked by a reporter of
the New York _Tribune_ to give his opinion of the President’s condition.
He replied that nothing had occurred within the preceding twenty-four
hours to cause the alarm that some professed to feel. The rise in
temperature and increase in pulse had occurred for several evenings, and
both were natural at that time of day, even in a well person. He added,
however, that the President’s condition would be more favorable, if
these symptoms were absent altogether. There was nothing discouraging in
the official bulletins, which he thought were scrupulously correct, as
in the private intelligence sent him by the attending surgeons. He
repeated the assertion that he had made from the beginning, that every
hour that elapsed without more dangerous symptoms, increased the
patient’s chances of recovery.
The bulletins of the afternoon and evening were couched in the usual
language; but it was evident, on critical examination of the figures,
that the construction put by the surgeons upon them, was hardly
justified by the facts. The reports said:
“1 P. M.—The President is passing a comfortable day. Pulse, 100;
temperature, 100.8; respiration, 24. 7 P. M.—Pulse, 104;
temperature, 102.4; respiration, 24.”
_The twelfth day._—During the second week of the President’s prostration
the public mind settled down to the expectation of a long, tedious
illness. The suspense of the first few days had passed—as such things
always pass—and people came to understand that they must wait until the
silent forces of nature should restore, if they ever could restore, the
wounded Chief Magistrate to health. The Wednesday morning bulletin was
of the most cheering kind—more so, for once, than was expressed in the
words of the surgeons:
“8:30 A. M.—The President is doing well this morning. Pulse, 90;
temperature, 98.5; respiration, 20. His gradual progress toward
recovery is manifest, and thus far without serious complication.”
[Illustration: DR. J. J. WOODWARD.]
The temperature of the President’s room had now been completely mastered
by artificial means. The degree finally decided on as most favorable to
the patient was 81° Fahrenheit. About 10,000 cubic feet of fresh air was
forced into the room each hour, and this great volume making its escape
through the open windows carried away all odors and impurities. The
President’s wound was now in full process of suppuration. This became a
heavy drain upon his constitutional and reserved forces, and his
strength was rapidly depleted. He grew worse—unable to move his body or
even his limbs without great exertion. At intervals, moreover, the
stomach refused to perform its functions, and there was, in consequence,
instant anxiety on the question of keeping life in the President until
he _could_ get well. The fluid food, upon which only he was nourished,
neither satisfied the longings of nature nor furnished sufficient
aliment to sustain the flagging powers of life. Moreover, at this epoch
began the great blunder in the President’s treatment. Owing to the
mistaken diagnosis of the surgeons the course of the ball had been
altogether misjudged. According to the theory of the physicians the ball
had gone forward and downward. As soon as the wound began to suppurate
it was found desirable to insert therein a drainage tube to the end that
the discharge might be perfectly free. This tube—though pliable—was, in
the process of insertion, constantly so manipulated by the surgeons as
to carry it forward and downward in the _supposed_ track of the ball,
rather than horizontally to the left, in the _real_ course of the ball.
It thus came to pass that the natural tendency of the pus, making its
way to the external opening of the wound to sink into the tissues before
_reaching_ the wound, was augmented by the erroneous theory and
manipulation of the surgeons. Having once started an opening downward
through the tissues, this was immediately filled with pus, and into this
pseudo wound, at each insertion in the path of the burrowing pus, the
physician’s tube was thrust further and further. This mistake—albeit
unforeseen and possibly undiscoverable—was the rock on which all hope of
recovery was ultimately shivered. The noonday and evening bulletins came
at the appointed hours and were as follows:
“1 P. M.—The President’s condition continues favorable. Pulse, 94;
temperature, 100.6; respiration, 22. 7 P. M.—The President has had
less fever this afternoon than either yesterday or the day before.
He continues slowly to improve. Pulse, 100; temperature, 101.6;
respiration, 24.”
The large and not very reputable army of busybodies now made a great
discovery. It was the great question of the President’s “disability” to
be President any longer. Certainly he was wounded, stricken down, lying
at death’s door. He was disabled; there was no doubt of that. The
Constitution indicates disability of the President as one of the
contingencies under which the Vice-President shall discharge the duties
of the presidency. But was President Garfield disabled in the sense
contemplated by the framers of the Constitution? Does that kind of
prostration of the bodily powers, in which there is still a prospect of
recovery, which leaves the will free to act, and the mental powers
unimpaired, really involve disability? These were the questions which
now came up for public discussion. However they might or should be
decided as abstract questions of constitutional construction, certain it
is that, as a practical issue, there was quite a universal judgment
that, _as yet_, President Garfield was not “disabled” in the sense of
the Constitution. Such was the temper of the people, moreover, that they
would not have patiently brooked any real effort to make the
Vice-President acting Chief Magistrate of the Nation.
_The thirteenth day._—Thursday, July 14th, was a quiet day at the White
House, and a like quiet was gradually diffused through the country. The
President was reported as having gained a little strength—a very
desirable thing. The unofficial accounts from the sick chamber were more
than usually encouraging. The reports of the President’s condition
occupied a less conspicuous place in the papers of the day, and there
was less popular discussion. The morning bulletin said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a comfortable night and
continues to do well. Pulse, 90; temperature, 99.8; respiration,
22.”
Hardly second in interest to the regular bulletins were the dispatches
constantly arriving from foreign powers, expressing either some hope of
recovery or asking for the latest news. On this day, the Secretary of
State received the following telegram from Mr. Lowell:
“BLAINE, _Secretary, Washington_:
“I have received the following from the Queen: ‘I wish to express my
great satisfaction at the very favorable accounts of the President,
and hope that he will soon be considered out of danger.’
“LOWELL, Minister, London.”
The Japanese Minister also handed to the Secretary of State a
telegraphic communication which he received from his Government, of
which the following is a copy:
“YOSHIDA, _Japanese Minister, Washington_:
“His Majesty was greatly rejoiced to receive your dispatch
announcing the steady recovery of the President, and commands you to
present his hearty congratulations.
“MOOYENO, Acting Minister Foreign Affairs, Tokio.”
[Illustration: DR. ROBERT REYBURN.]
During the day Senator Conkling, of whose attitude towards the
Administration so much had been recently said, again visited Washington.
In the evening he called at the Executive Mansion and handed the usher
his card for Mrs. Garfield. He said he did not wish to disturb her, but
desired that his sympathies might be made known to her, as well as his
gratification that the President was recovering from his wounds.
The afternoon and evening bulletins were duly issued, and gave the
following account of the President’s progress:
“1 P. M.—The progress of the President’s condition continues to be
satisfactory this morning. Pulse, 94; temperature, 98.5;
respiration, 22. 7. P. M.—The febrile rise this afternoon has been
less pronounced, and has not caused the President so much
discomfort. His general condition is good. Pulse, 98; temperature,
101; respiration, 23.”
The interpretation put by the surgeons upon these reports, and
generally—though not universally—accepted by medical men, was that the
so-called “surgical fever,” that is, a certain exacerbation of bodily
temperature always noticeable in persons recovering from physical
injury, had passed its crisis and would soon disappear. This belief was
strengthened during the day by the presence of perspiration and other
concomitants of a waning fever.
For the first time in five days the patient’s temperature fell to the
normal degree (98.6°). A new drainage pipe of rubber was inserted into
the wound to a greater depth than the original pipe had reached.[4] The
President was able to move his limbs more easily than heretofore, and in
other ways manifested his improvement. He asked more frequently about
public affairs, and his curiosity was gratified in matters which would
not produce excitement.
Footnote 4:
Here again was the fatal mistake. Day after day the burrowing pus was
aided on its way downward among the tissues by the disturbing drainage
tubes of the surgeons.
Thus day by day the battle went on between the recuperative forces of
nature and the destructive agency of a dreadful wound.
_The fourteenth day._—The improvement in the President’s condition,
first distinctly manifested about the beginning of this week, was now
more marked than hitherto. The patient took food with relish. The wound
showed signs of healing. The febrile symptoms during most of the day
were wholly wanting. Taken all in all there was a distinct progress
toward recovery. The morning bulletin said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has rested well during the night, is doing
admirably this morning, and takes his food with relish. Pulse, 90;
temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18.”
The physicians, on the strength of these indications, declared in
unofficial conversation that the progress of their distinguished patient
toward recovery could not be more satisfactory. So both surgeons and
people fell to the discussion of minor topics instead of the great
question of life or death. One question about which all were specially
curious was the location of the ball in the President’s body. Several
electricians thought to determine this matter by a new application of
scientific principles. It was suggested that the deflection of an
electric needle, when brought near to the ball, could be used as an
index of the exact spot where the missile was hidden. Professor Bell, of
New York, was specially confident of success by this method. He was firm
in the belief that, by the application of Hughes’s induction balance to
the surface of the President’s body, he would be able to mark definitely
the spot where the ball lay imbedded. The attending surgeons gave their
consent that the attempt might be made, and it was agreed that as soon
as Professor Bell had completed some modifications in the instrument,
and some experimental tests for the discovery of leaden balls under
similar conditions, the trial should be made.
The afternoon and evening bulletins of the fourteenth day were of the
most encouraging purport:
“1 P. M.—The President continues to do very well this morning.
Pulse, 94; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President
has continued to do well during the day. The afternoon fever has
been slighter than on any day since the 3d. Pulse, 98; temperature,
100.4; respiration. 20.”
There was, at this epoch in the history of President Garfield’s case, a
good deal of monotony. The regular reports were in a measure duplicates
of each other, and the unofficial accounts which were sent out by the
newspaper correspondents were not characterized by the sensational
quality which marked the early reports of the tragedy. The people,
moreover—and with good reason—grew somewhat suspicious of startling
dispatches, for it was found that the stock jobbers of New York City
were not unwilling to use the President’s condition as a basis of
speculation. With sorrow and mortification it was discovered that there
were men so lost to the sense of shame as to wager fictitious shares
against the hopes of the Nation and to speculate on a manufactured
death-rattle in the throat of the Republic!
_The fifteenth day._—From the beginning of the healing of the
President’s wound, the surgeons had been more or less apprehensive that
the blood of their patient would be poisoned by the absorption of
purulent matter, and his life be thereby imperiled. There are two
secondary diseases thus likely to arise from the presence of a wound in
the body—pyæmia and septicæmia. The first of these is by far the most to
be dreaded. The malady results from the absorption of the poisonous pus
corpuscles into the circulation with the consequent horrors of rigors
and burning fever. The latter disease, septicæmia, is a less fearful
complication, resulting from the absorption of the fluid ichor peculiar
to healing wounds and the infection of the blood thereby. Both of these
ills were to be feared in the case of the President. Day by day went by,
however, and the dreaded symptoms did not appear. The bulletins of the
16th of July were of a sort to indicate that blood poisoning was hardly
to be apprehended. The reports said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed another good night, and is
steadily progressing toward convalescence. Pulse, 90; temperature,
98.5; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President has passed a better day
than any since he was hurt. The afternoon fever is still less than
yesterday. His pulse is now 98; temperature, 100.2; respiration,
19.”
In view of the favorable progress of the President’s case the surgeons
decided, for the time, to issue bulletins only in the morning and
evening, thus dispensing with the noonday report.
One of the most interesting episodes in connection with the
assassination of the President was the raising of a fund for the support
of his family. The enterprise was proposed by Cyrus W. Field of New
York, who headed the subscription with $25,000. The fund was for Mrs.
Garfield, and was to be hers absolutely independent of any
contingencies. It was proposed that any and all who felt disposed should
add to the sum until the amount contemplated was secured. Then it was
designed to invest the whole in Mrs. Garfield’s name, the interest to go
to her and her family in perpetuity. Notwithstanding the strong hopes
which were entertained of the President’s recovery, the subscription was
rapidly augmented until, before the President’s death, the sum had
reached more than $300,000. After the tragedy was ended the trustees
having the fund in charge invested $275,000 of the amount in four per
cent. Government bonds, placing the whole to Mrs. Garfield’s credit. It
was thus that the American people, of their own accord, made provision
for the wife and children of the great citizen who had never found time
to get riches.
_The sixteenth day._—The news on this day opened with the cheering
information that the President was now permitted to order his own meals,
and that he was making good use of the privilege. The day at Washington
was one of the least exciting in the whole course of the President’s
illness. The future was freely discussed—how soon the wounded Chief
Magistrate might go abroad and what measures should be adopted for his
more rapid restoration to health. The morning and evening bulletins were
almost a mere matter of form:
“8:30 A. M.—The President continues to improve. He passed an
excellent night and has a good appetite. This morning, pulse, 90;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—Our expectations of
favorable progress have been fully realized by the manner in which
the President has passed the day. He has taken more solid food and
with greater relish than hitherto, and his afternoon fever, which is
as slight as that of yesterday, came on later. His pulse is 98;
temperature, 100.2; respiration, 20.”
The informal reports of the day showed, from the conversations of the
surgeons, that they were still in some measure under the delusion that
the ball had passed through the President’s body and was imbedded in the
anterior wall, in a position of easy removal in the future.
_The seventeenth day._—This was similar to the day before.
Notwithstanding the febrile rise of the preceding evening, the President
was reported as having passed a restful night. In the morning he had a
friendly altercation with the doctors, he contending that he might smoke
a cigar and they refusing. He was cheerful, confident, and strong in the
faith that he was on the way leading to recovery. The symptoms had a
reassuring complexion in the general view and to the immediate
attendants. The President felt that he was better, and he said so. There
was no question about his fever; that showed for itself; but it did not
lead to serious apprehension. Improvement in his condition was what the
people wanted to hear about, and they did not expect any thing else. The
great majority had determined upon not hearing any thing contrary to
their hopes, and this feeling was participated in by the public press.
Under these conditions it is not surprising that the physicians, who
knew just how the popular heart was throbbing, made extraordinary effort
to respond to its requirements. No one accuses them of deception. No one
believes they were actuated by any but the best motives in their
examinations and reports. Admitting that a portion of their theory was
wrong, who will contend that a better theory could have resulted from
the examination of any equivalent number of physicians and surgeons?
This question has been widely discussed, without finding a conclusion in
anywise discreditable to the corps of eminent scientists who ministered
to the sufferings of President Garfield.
The physicians explained to the public that the present feverishness of
the patient had arisen from his recent over-eating of solid food. The
more thoughtful, however, who had carefully scanned the reports for the
last few days, were not satisfied, and awaited the morning bulletin with
a little fear. The report ran thus:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed another comfortable night and
is doing well this morning; pulse, 88; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18.”
This was reassuring; so the people took up the subject of the
thanksgiving which had been proposed by Governor Charles Foster, of
Ohio. During the day a letter was published from Hon. O. M. Roberts,
Governor of Texas, giving his hearty approval of what Governor Foster
had proposed. An interesting conversation with Dr. Bliss was also
reported for the Eastern press, in the course of which he declared that
the President’s wound was in the healing stage, and that the track of
the ball was slowly but surely clearing by the processes of nature. The
evening bulletin, however, was not as fair as had been hoped. It said:
“7 P. M.—The President has had a little more fever this afternoon,
which is regarded as merely a temporary fluctuation. At 1 P. M. his
pulse was 98; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. At present his
pulse is 102; temperature, 100.7; respiration, 21.”
_The eighteenth day._—Something has already been said of the Hughes
Induction balance with which Professor Bell was to discover the position
of the ball in the President’s body. The preliminary experiments had
been continued, and the electricians had strong hopes of success, but
the test had not yet been made. The press reports of the day were
largely devoted to descriptions of the delicate apparatus which was to
enable the scientists to determine the exact location of the ball. The
great difficulty in the way was the non-susceptibility of lead to the
inductive effect of electricity. Professor Bell and his co-electricians
were, however, quite confident that this obstacle could be overcome and
the position of the ball determined. The two bulletins of July 19th were
as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a very good night, and this
morning he is free from fever, and expresses himself as feeling
quite comfortable. Pulse, 90; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. 7
P. M.—The President has passed an excellent day, and the afternoon
fever has been less than on any day since he was wounded. At 1 P. M.
his pulse was 92; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 19. At present his
pulse is 96; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 19.”
_The nineteenth day._—The reports, both official and unofficial, were of
a sort to justify a belief in the early convalescence of the
President—if indeed convalescence had not already supervened. The fever
was so slight as to be scarcely any longer noticeable. The President’s
appetite and spirits were of a sort to suggest immediate recovery. It
was said by the attending surgeons on the 20th of July, that the wounded
man had passed his best day since his injury was received. He was still
represented as weak and weary from lying so long in bed. He was looking
forward eagerly to the time when he could take the trip upon the
Potomac, and possibly a sea voyage, which had been promised him by the
middle of August, if he should continue to improve. Arrangements were
already made so that the trip might be as safe and comfortable as
possible.
The Tallapoosa, a United States steamer, underwent repairs and was made
ready for service. The Secretary of the Navy issued orders to put
additional men at work upon her, so that she might be ready to sail at
any time after the 15th of August.
The bulletins of the surgeons were issued as usual, morning and evening.
They said:
“8:30 A. M.—The progress of the President toward recovery continues
uninterruptedly. He has passed another quiet night. Pulse this
morning 86; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The
President has passed an excellent day. At 1 P. M. his pulse was 88;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. At the present time his pulse is
98; temperature, 99.6; respiration, 19.”
_The twentieth day._—The physicians were unwilling to say that their
patient was out of danger, but they permitted the attendants to think
so, and the people accepted it as true. At the morning dressing of the
wound a discovery was made. It was found that some of the clothing had
entered the wound with the bullet. There came away, spontaneously with
the pus, from the deeper part of the wound, what the surgeons called a
“morsel of clothing,” about one-quarter of an inch square. Upon being
examined under the microscope by Dr. Woodward, it was found to consist
chiefly of cotton fibers, with a few woolen fibers adhering. It was a
portion of the President’s shirt, with a few fibers of wool from the
coat.
The two bulletins of the day were brief but satisfactory:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has had a good night and is doing
excellently. This morning, pulse, 88; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President has had another good day. At
1 P. M. his pulse was 92; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. At 7
P. M., pulse, 96; temperature, 99.9; respiration, 19.”
For some time past the consulting surgeons had not been called to the
President’s bedside, but daily reports were made to them by the
physicians in charge. These reports, however, were but a more extended
statement of the facts contained in the official bulletins, and
generally added nothing in the way of information.
_The twenty-first day._—The recovery of the President was now generally
believed to be assured. The surgeons gave it as their opinion that about
the only danger to be apprehended was the prolonged suppuration of the
wound. Under the influence of this drain the President was wasting from
day to day, and the amount of food which he was able to take was hardly
sufficient to supply the waste. Nevertheless he held up well under this
exhaustive process, and although greatly reduced in flesh and strength,
his vital energies did not as yet seem to be seriously impaired. Almost
the only item of news which came from the White House was the somewhat
monotonous bulletins, which said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President rested well during the night and is quite
easy this morning. Pulse, 88; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 17.
7:30 P. M.—The progress of the President’s case continues without
material change. At 1 P. M. his pulse was 98; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18. At 7 P. M., pulse, 98; temperature, 100.2;
respiration, 19.”
_The twenty-second day._—Bad news! The President was worse. The morning
bulletin did not appear. At first this fact created no anxiety, but soon
there was alarm. At ten o’clock a bulletin was posted by the surgeons,
which said:
“10 A. M.—The President was more restless last night; but this
morning at 7 A. M., while preparations were made to dress his wound,
his temperature was found to be normal; pulse, 92; temperature,
98.4; respiration, 19. At 7:30 he had a slight rigor, in consequence
of which the dressing of his wound was postponed. Reaction followed
promptly, and the dressing has just now been completed. At present
his pulse is 110; temperature, 101; respiration, 24.”
“Rigor” was a bad word. Physicians understood it to portend blood
poisoning. It was remembered, moreover, by the attendants that for the
last two days the President had complained of a sense of great fatigue.
The symptoms were well calculated to inspire a fear that the dread
pyæmia had made its appearance. The consulting surgeons were immediately
sent for. At half-past eleven the President had _another_ chill, and the
news given to the people in the afternoon papers was of a kind to create
the most serious apprehensions. The evening bulletin was awaited with
the utmost anxiety. In the towns and cities crowds filled the streets as
had happened three weeks before when the news came of the assassination.
At seven o’clock the bulletin came as follows:
“7 P. M.—After the bulletin of 10 A. M. the President’s fever
continued. At 11:30 A. M. he again had a slight rigor, and his
temperature subsequently rose, until, at 12:30 P. M. it was 104,
with pulse 125, respiration, 26. Between this time and 1 P. M.
perspiration made its appearance, and the temperature began to fall
gradually. It is now 101.7; pulse, 118; respiration, 25.”
Soon after this bulletin was made public, Drs. Agnew and Hamilton
reached Washington, but it was thought not best to disturb the President
further, and so no consultation was held until the morrow.
_The twenty-third day._—This was an anxious day in Washington and
throughout the country. With the coming of morning it was learned that
during the night the President had had another chill. It also transpired
that at the evening dressing of the wound, the physicians discovered in
the region below where the ball had entered, a pus sac, that is, an
accumulation of purulent matter in a cavity inclosed in the tissues of
the back. At nine o’clock there was an examination by the attending and
consulting surgeons, and an operation was determined upon. An incision
was accordingly made about two inches in length, an inch and a half in
depth, reaching down to the bottom of the cavity or sac. It was about
three inches below the wound and farther back toward the spine. A large
drainage tube was inserted, and in the afternoon, when the wound was
again dressed, it was found that the pus was escaping from the tube and
not from the old wound at all.
[Illustration: SCENE IN THE SICK CHAMBER.]
In making this artificial opening some farther discoveries were made
regarding the character of the wound. It was found that the eleventh rib
had suffered a compound fracture, being broken in two places. The piece
of bone thus displaced was driven inwards from its natural position.
This the surgeons restored to its place, and it was decided that in a
few days the old opening, where the ball had entered, should be allowed
to heal, leaving only the orifice made by the surgeons. During the
operation the President displayed his usual courage. He neither flinched
nor moved, though nothing was given him in the nature of an anæsthetic.
Probes were thrust down through the old wound to the bottom of the
pocket, and against these probes the surgeons cut their way to the lower
end of the sac. The operation thus performed was in every way
successful. The beneficial effects were immediately apparent in an
improved condition of the sufferer. The bulletin issued by the surgeons
in the evening was as follows:
“7 P. M.—The President has been much relieved by the operation of
this morning, and the pus has been discharging satisfactorily
through the new opening. At noon to-day his pulse was 118;
temperature, 99.8; respiration, 24. At present his pulse is 104;
temperature, 99.2; respiration, 23.”
The unofficial conversations of the surgeons with reporters and others
was to the effect that, taken all in all, the prospects for the
President’s ultimate recovery were not lessened by the events of the
last two days.
_The twenty-fourth day._—The news was somewhat reassuring. There had
been no very marked change in the President’s condition, either for
better or worse. But he had passed a comparatively comfortable night,
sleeping at intervals, and suffering no recurrence of the chill. The
operation performed had entailed no serious consequence, and the outlook
again began to be hopeful. The surgeon’s bulletins were of a sort to
cheer rather than discourage. They said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a more comfortable night, and
has had no rigor since that reported in the bulletin of yesterday
morning. He is doing well this morning. Pulse, 96; temperature,
98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President has done well during
the day. His afternoon fever did not come on until after three
o’clock. It is somewhat higher than yesterday, but there has been no
chill. At noon his pulse was 104; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
20. At 7 P. M. his pulse was 110; temperature, 101; respiration,
24.”
The attendants upon the President who were often at the bedside, and had
every opportunity of judging of the general course of the case, and also
the members of the Cabinet, reiterated in many informal conversations
the views expressed officially by the surgeons in charge. None the less,
to one who could read between the lines and could not be blown hot or
cold with every rumor, it was clear, even from the surgeons’ bulletins,
that the recovery of the President was still problematical.
_The twenty-fifth day._—The reports for Tuesday, July 26th, showed that
the President was gaining ground, and that he had in a good measure
realized the relief hoped for from the operation of the previous Sunday.
This belief was plainly present in the dispatch of the cool-headed Mr.
Blaine. He said:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“At 11 o’clock P. M. the President’s physicians report temperature
and respiration normal, and pulse, 96—best report at same hour for
five nights. The entire day has been most encouraging, and a feeling
of confidence is rapidly returning.
“BLAINE, Secretary.”
This dispatch of the Secretary of State was, of course, based upon the
official bulletins of the surgeons, who said in their reports for the
day:
“8:30 A. M.—The President was somewhat restless during the night,
and the fever which had subsided after the last bulletin rose again
about midnight, and continued till three o’clock, after which it
again subsided. He is now about as well as yesterday at the same
hour. Pulse, 102; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The
President has done well during the day. At noon his pulse was 106;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. At 7 P. M. pulse, 104;
temperature, 100.7; respiration, 22.”
One of the distressing features of the times was the presence in
Washington of great numbers of irresponsible newspaper correspondents
who shamed their profession by the publication of whatever came
uppermost. The Capital appeared to be at the mercy of sensational
rumor-mongers, and they made the most of their opportunity. According to
them, the doctors had said that the President would not live an hour;
mortification had set in; an important surgical operation had been
necessary, and the result had been unsatisfactory; the surgeons refused
to give any information concerning it or the President’s condition; it
had been decided by the surgeons that an attempt must at once be made to
find and extract the bullet as a last desperate effort to save the
President’s life; the flag on the building occupied by the Department of
Justice was at half-mast, as a sign of the President’s death, etc.
_The twenty-sixth day._—There could be no doubt that the reports of the
27th indicated a marked improvement in the President’s condition. He
continued all day without fever. The bulletins were unequivocal:
“8 A. M.—The President slept sweetly last night from about 8 P. M.
to 5 A. M., with but a slight break of short duration at 11 P. M.
There have been no rigors. He takes his nourishment well, and his
general condition is improving. He expresses himself as feeling
better and more rested. Pulse, 94; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
18. 12:30. P. M.—The President’s wound was dressed just after the
morning bulletin was issued. Since then he has rested quietly, and
takes his nourishment readily and without gastric disturbance. At
present his pulse is 90; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P.
M.—The President is still resting quietly. He has been able to take
more nourishment to-day than for several days past, and, up to the
present hour, has had no febrile rise of temperature. His wound has
just been dressed. It looks well, and has continued to discharge
healthy pus in sufficient quantity during the day. His pulse is now
95; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 20.”
The news sent abroad by Secretary Blaine to Minister Lowell was of the
same tenor. The dispatch said:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_.
“At 11 o’clock P. M. the President’s physicians gave a most
favorable account of his condition. There is a conspicuous
improvement in his digestion and in the restfulness of his sleep. We
are by no means relieved from anxiety, but are growing more hopeful.
“BLAINE, _Secretary_.”
In a conversation during the day, Dr. Bliss, referring to the outlook,
said: “There is only one more danger to be apprehended in the
President’s case. That danger is pyæmia, and it is not likely to occur
for a long time; and we are extremely confident, almost certain, that it
will not occur at all. The President is doing very, very well. We could
not hope to have him do better. His sleep last night was the best that
he has had since he was wounded.”
_The twenty-seventh day._—The incident of the day was the removal of the
President from his room, in order that the apartment might be thoroughly
cleaned and aired. The removal was effected without difficulty, and the
President remained in the adjacent room until five o’clock in the
afternoon, when he was quietly returned to his own chamber. He greatly
enjoyed the slight change of scene thus afforded, and was much pleased
with the maneuver by which his room had been brought to order. His
spirits were revived not a little, and an improvement in his appetite
was again thankfully noted. The official bulletins of the day were as
follows:
“8 A. M.—The President rested well during the night, and no rigor or
febrile disturbance has occurred since the bulletin of yesterday
evening. This morning the improvement of his general condition is
distinctly perceptible. He appears refreshed by his night’s rest,
and expresses himself cheerfully as to his condition. Pulse, 92;
temperature, 98.4: respiration, 18. 12:20 P. M.—The President bore
the dressing of his wound this morning with less fatigue than
hitherto. It appears well and is discharging sufficiently. His pulse
is now 94; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President
has passed a pleasant day, and has taken his nourishment with
apparent relish. His temperature continued normal until about 5
o’clock, when a moderate afternoon rise occurred, which, however,
gives the patient but slight discomfort, and causes no anxiety. At
present his pulse is 104; temperature, 100.5; respiration, 20.”
During the day a sensational report was started to the effect that Dr.
Agnew—in whose skill as a surgeon the people had come to have the
greatest confidence—had said that the President’s life could not be
saved unless the ball was excised at an early day. This rumor, however,
was promptly denied, as were also some alleged unfavorable remarks of
Dr. Hamilton. About this time, however, some eminent surgeons—notably
Dr. Hammond, of New York City—began to express, and even to publish,
very serious strictures upon the views and treatment adopted by the
attending and consulting physicians of the President; and, in some
instances, the reasoning of the critics seemed to be so well borne out
by the facts as to put the medical and surgical skill of those who
managed the President’s case to a very hard strain.
_The twenty-eighth day._—On the 29th of July a Cabinet meeting, at which
all the members except Attorney-General MacVeagh were present, was held
at the White House. Public matters were discussed, and certain routine
official business disposed of in the usual way. All this indicated a
belief, on the part of the members, that the President was on the road
to recovery. There was, however, no marked change in his condition or
prospects. He had passed a comfortable night—so said the attendants—and
the afternoon fever was less pronounced than on the previous day. The
three bulletins of the surgeons contained about the only information
which could be obtained of the progress of the distinguished patient.
They were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—Immediately after the evening dressing yesterday the
President’s afternoon fever began gradually to subside. He slept
well during the night, and this morning is free from fever, looks
well, and expresses himself cheerfully. A moderate rise of
temperature in the afternoon is to be anticipated for some days to
come. At present his pulse is 92; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
18. 2:30 P. M.—The President bore the dressing of his wound well
this morning, and exhibited very little fatigue after its
completion. He rests well, and takes an adequate quantity of
nourishment. At present his pulse is 98; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 19. 7 P. M.—The President has been comfortable and
cheerful during the day, and has had quite a nap since the noon
bulletin was issued. At present his pulse is 98; temperature, 100;
respiration, 20.”
To these reports very little can be added for the day, except the
confirmation of their substance in the evening dispatch of Secretary
Blaine, which was as follows:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President’s afternoon fever was less to-day than yesterday, and
at this hour—half-past 11 P. M.—has almost disappeared. Temperature
very nearly normal. His wound is in a healthy condition, and he is
doing well in all respects. His physicians are greatly encouraged.
“BLAINE, _Secretary_.”
_The twenty-ninth day._—With the morning of the 30th of July came the
report of a farther—though slight—improvement in the President’s
condition. He was said to have waked early in the morning after a
refreshing sleep. He showed no fatigue from the dressing of the wound in
the course of the forenoon, and ate with relish a moderate quantity of
solid food. He was able, with the aid of a contrivance placed under the
mattress, partly to sit up in bed. The afternoon rise in temperature was
moderate. Several times during the President’s illness the question of
malarious influences about the White House, as affecting his prospects
of recovery, was discussed by the physicians and the general public. It
was noticed that several of the employes had been taken sick in a way to
indicate malaria in the surroundings. The condition of the Executive
Mansion itself was reported as being unfavorable to health. So the
question of removing the President to a more healthful place was again
raised and seriously debated by the surgeons. Dr. Bliss, who was a
member of the Washington Board of Health, which several years before,
after a long struggle, had succeeded in having a large number of
disease-breeding tenement-houses removed, was very emphatic in his
condemnation of the “conveniences” of the White House, and said the
family of the President should be removed while engineers should
overhaul and renovate the entire plumbing arrangements of the premises.
Of course all possible means are taken to keep the unhealthy influence
arising from this condition of affairs from the sick-room of the
President; and the closed doors, together with the elaborate new
ventilating apparatus, were believed to furnish ample protection.
Mr. Blaine, in his night dispatch to Minister Lowell, spoke
encouragingly of the situation, and the official bulletins were pitched
in the usual hopeful key:
“8:30 A. M.—The President enjoyed a refreshing sleep during the
greater part of the night. A gradual improvement of his general
condition in all particulars is observable, and is recognized by
himself. His pulse is now 92; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18.
12:30 P. M.—The President showed no fatigue from the dressing of his
wound this morning. His general condition continues gradually to
improve. A moderate quantity of solid food has been added to his
nourishment, and was eaten with relish. At present his pulse is 98;
temperature, 98.5; respiration, 20. 7 P. M.—The President has passed
the day comfortably and without drawback or unpleasant symptoms. The
afternoon rise of temperature is moderate, and did not commence
until about 5 o’clock. At present his pulse is 104; temperature,
100.2; respiration, 20.”
_The thirtieth day._—The physicians again found time to discuss the
location of the ball in the President’s body. The majority had still
held the opinion that the missile had passed through the peritoneal
cavity, and was lodged in the front wall of the abdomen. In a dispatch
of the day, it was even alleged that the surgeons were now agreed in
this opinion.
It was believed that the black-and-blue spot, which had been visible on
the right side of the abdomen for several days after the President
received his injury, marked the bullet’s location, and this theory was
apparently confirmed by such results as had thus far been obtained with
the induction balance. However this might be, it was said by the
physicians, with much confidence, that the ball was, by this stage of
progress, encysted, and that not much further trouble would or could
arise from its presence in the body. The bulletins of the thirtieth day
were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept well during the night, and awoke
refreshed this morning. His appearance and expression this morning
indicate continued improvement. At present his pulse is 94;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—The President bore
the morning dressing of the wound without fatigue. It continues to
look well and discharge adequately. The quantity of nourishment now
taken daily is regarded as quite sufficient to support his system
and favor the gradual increase in strength, which is plainly
observable. At present his pulse is 100; temperature, 98.5;
respiration, 19. 7 P. M.—The President has passed an excellent day.
The afternoon rise of temperature has been quite insignificant. At
present his pulse is 104; temperature, 99; respiration, 20.”
On this day it was announced that Professor Bell had completed his
instrument for determining the location of the ball. A description of
the apparatus was given to the public, which, though couched in
scientific language, may prove of interest to the general reader. The
induced electrical current, and the interference therewith by the
presence of a metallic body, were the fundamental facts of the
invention. The instrument consisted of two circular primary coils of
insulated copper three inches in diameter and half an inch in thickness,
the one being constructed of No. 19 wire, and containing between seven
and eight ohms of resistance, forming the primary coil, and the other of
No. 28 or 30 wire, giving more than eighty ohms of resistance, forming
the secondary coil, the two being connected in separate metallic
circuits. In the circuit with the former there was placed an electrical
battery and a spring vibrator, the latter so adjusted as to make a very
rapid series of “breaks” of the circuit, sending a hundred or more
electrical pulsations over the circuit and around the primary coil of
wire per second. A hand telephone only was placed in the circuit with
the secondary coil. The batteries being connected, and the vibrator set
in motion, the secondary coil was placed so as to cover the primary, and
the operator having the telephone at his ear, hears the pulsations of
the primary current sent through the vibrator with each motion of its
spring, an induced current being produced in the secondary coil by its
contiguity with the primary.
Up to this point the ground traversed had been familiar to all
electricians for many years. Professor Bell’s discovery, which made the
subject of special interest, consisted in the fact that if the secondary
coil be gradually turned to one side, so as to uncover a portion of its
primary, the inductive effects and the resultant tone from the vibrator
diminish until a point is reached, where only about one-third of the
surface of the secondary coil remaining upon the primary coil, the
sound-producing effect of the induction ceased altogether. If the
secondary coil be moved beyond the point of silence the sonorous results
become immediately apparent.
At the point of silence it was discovered that that portion of the
secondary, which still covered an equal portion of its primary, was very
sensitive to the presence of metallic substances not connected in any
way with the circuits of which the two coils formed a portion,
disclosing their proximity by making again audible the sounds from the
vibrator. The results obtained from this instrument were equal to those
given by the Hughes balance, but the latter furnishing a more convenient
form for general use, it was first adopted as the basis of experiments.
Such was the instrument which the electricians completed, but would it
work in practically discovering the place of the ball? It was determined
that on the morrow the apparatus should be tested.
_The thirty-first day._—Two things on this day occupied the public
attention: First, the regular reports; and second, the experiments of
Professor Bell. The bulletins were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept well during the night, and this
morning is cheerful, and expresses himself as feeling better than at
any time since he was hurt. He appears stronger, and has evidently
made progress toward recovery during the last few days. His pulse is
now 94; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—The
President’s wound continues to do well. At the morning dressing it
was found to be in all respects in a satisfactory condition. At
present his pulse is 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. 7 P.
M.—The President has taken nourishment well and in sufficient
quantity, and in all respects continues to do well. The rise of
temperature this afternoon is slight. At present his pulse is 104;
temperature, 99.5; respiration, 20.”
After the morning dressing of the President’s wound, it was decided to
make a formal trial of the induction apparatus for determining, if
possible, the location of the fatal bullet. Professor Bell was
accordingly brought, with his instrument, to the President’s bedside,
and there conducted his experiments. Later in the day he wrote out and
presented to the surgeons an official report of the results, as follows:
“VOLTA LABORATORY, 1,221, CONNECTICUT AVENUE,}
“WASHINGTON, August 1, 1881.}
“_To the Surgeons in attendance upon President Garfield_:
“GENTLEMEN—I beg to submit for your information a brief statement of
the results obtained with the new form of induction balance in the
experiments made this morning for the purpose of locating the bullet
in the person of the President. The instrument was tested for
sensitiveness several times during the course of the experiments,
and it was found to respond well to the presentation of a flattened
bullet at a distance of about four inches from the coils. When the
exploring coils were passed over that part of the abdomen where a
sonorous spot was observed in the experiments made on July 26, a
feeble tone was perceived, but the effect was audible a considerable
distance around this spot. The sounds were too feeble to be entirely
satisfactory, as I had reason to expect, from the extreme
sensitiveness of the instrument, a much more marked effect. In order
to ascertain whether similar sounds might not be obtained in other
localities, I explored the whole right side and back below the point
of entrance of the bullet, but no part gave indications of the
presence of metal, except an area of about two inches in diameter,
containing within it the spot previously found to be sonorous. The
experiments were repeated by Mr. Taintor, who obtained exactly
corresponding results. We are therefore justified in concluding that
the ball is located within the above-named area. In our preliminary
experiments we found that a bullet like the one in question, when in
its normal shape, produced no audible effect beyond a distance of
two and a-half inches; while the same bullet, flattened and
presented with its face parallel to the plane of the coils, gave
indications up to a distance of five inches. The same flattened
bullet, held with its face perpendicular to the plane of the coils,
produced no sound beyond a distance of one inch. The facts show that
in ignorance of the actual shape and mode of presentation of the
bullet to the exploring instrument, the depth at which the bullet
lies beneath the surface can not be determined from our experiments.
I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
“ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL.”[5]
Footnote 5:
In the light of the discoveries made at the examination of the
President’s body, after death, it would not appear that the Induction
Balance, viewed as an agent to determine the position of concealed
balls of metal—especially lead—is an instrument calculated to improve
the reputation of science or scientific men.
_The thirty-second day._—Less space was given to-day in the public press
to reports of the President’s progress than on any previous day since
the assassination. An incident of the hour was the reception by Mrs.
Garfield of a draft for a hundred pounds sterling, sent by the
Disciples, of England, to aid in the reconstruction of the church in
Washington where the President was in the habit of attending worship.
The reports for the day were of the same general tenor which they had
borne since the surgical operation of the 25th July. The bulletins were
as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President passed a very pleasant night, and slept
sweetly the greater part of the time. This morning he awoke
refreshed, and appears comfortable and cheerful. Pulse, 94;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—The President is
passing the day comfortably. At the morning dressing his wound was
found to be doing admirably. His pulse is now 99; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 19. 7 P. M.—The President has continued to progress
favorably during the day, and appears perceptibly better in his
general condition than yesterday, a more natural tone of voice being
especially perceptible. At present his pulse is 104; temperature,
100; respiration, 20.”
_The thirty-third day._—“President Garfield continues,” says the New
York _Tribune_, “to gain steadily. In a fortnight more, if all goes well
with him, he will probably be able to sit up and give some attention to
the business which awaits his action. He is still very weak, but when
the healing process in his wound is well begun, he will, no doubt, gain
strength rapidly.” Such was the opinion of the country. The physicians
in charge, and the attendants upon the President, all seemed to believe
confidently in his early convalescence. The most noticeable change in
his condition was the return of his voice to its wonted fullness and
resonance. His attendants said that the change in this respect had been
very marked as compared with three or four days previous. The quantity
of morphine given by the physicians, in order to produce sound sleep,
had now been reduced to one-eighth of a grain daily, and the President
was able to take more than the usual amount of nourishment, including
beefsteak, milk, meat extract, toast saturated with beef juice, and a
little coffee. His strength had increased, and he was able already to do
more in the way of turning himself in bed, and helping others to raise
his body, than the surgeons thought it prudent to allow.
The bulletins of the day were in every way satisfactory and encouraging:
8:30 A. M.—The President slept tranquilly the greater part of the
night. This morning his temperature is normal, and his general
condition is satisfactory. Another day of favorable progress is
anticipated. At present his pulse is 90; temperature, 96.4;
respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—The President continues to progress
steadily toward convalescence. He has taken to-day an increased
proportion of solid food. His wound is doing well, and his general
condition is better than yesterday. At present his pulse is 100;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. 7 P. M.—The President has passed
a very satisfactory day. The rise of temperature this afternoon is
slight. At present his pulse is 102; temperature, 99.4; respiration,
19.
The proposed removal of the President from the White House was again
under discussion. It was decided, however, to do nothing definite in
regard to such removal until he could himself be taken into the counsel
of the physicians, and indicate his preference. Two plans had thus far
been discussed: one to take him upon a naval vessel, and depart for any
point upon the coast where the surroundings seemed to promise most for
his physical improvement; the other, to take him to the Soldiers’ Home,
three miles from the White House, and keep him there until he should be
able to make the journey by rail to Mentor, his Ohio home.
_The thirty-fourth day._—No news of interest to-day. The space allotted
in the newspapers to accounts of the progress and condition of the
President was still further reduced. In conversation about the
President’s condition, Dr. Hamilton was reported to have discussed the
situation quite freely, and expressed the opinion that President
Garfield was advancing toward recovery in a very satisfactory manner. In
reply to the direct question: “Do you think the President will recover?”
the Doctor said: “I have no doubt whatever of his ultimate recovery.”
Dr. Hamilton also expressed the opinion that there was no malaria in the
patient’s system. In response to interrogatories relative to moving the
patient from the Executive Mansion, the doctor said that nothing could
yet be determined, as the President was in no condition to be moved. He
thought, however, when the proper time arrived, that a trip down the
Potomac would be decidedly beneficial, and would hasten his recovery.
In accordance with the custom which the physicians had now adopted, only
two bulletins were issued during the day, and they were of a sort to
create no excitement.
“8:30 A. M.—The President continues to improve. He slept well during
the night, and this morning looks and expresses himself cheerfully.
Another satisfactory day is anticipated. At present his pulse is 90;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—As the morning bulletin
indicated would probably be the case, the President has passed
another good day without drawback or unpleasant symptoms of any
kind. At 10:30 P. M. his pulse was 96; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18. The afternoon rise of temperature came on late and
was moderate in degree. Now his pulse is 102; temperature, 100.2;
respiration, 19.”
Thus from day to day, and from week to week, the time wore on, the
people regarding it merely as a matter of time when their beloved
President would be restored to life and health. At this date they did
not anticipate an alternative issue.
_The thirty-fifth day._—In the leading papers of August 5th, no more
than a quarter of a column was devoted to President Garfield. The
citizens of Newport, Rhode Island, sent, through the mayor of the city,
an invitation to the President to come to their famous resort as soon as
his wound would permit, and to remain as their guest until complete
recovery. The bulletins of the day contained the only information. They
said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept naturally the greater part of the
night, although he has taken no morphia during the last twenty-four
hours. His improved condition warranted, several days ago, a
diminution in the quantity of morphia administered hypodermically at
bedtime, and it was reduced at first to one-twelfth and afterward to
one-sixteenth of a grain in the twenty-four hours, without any
consequent unpleasant result, and finally has been altogether
dispensed with. His condition this morning exhibits continued
improvement, and another good day is anticipated. At present his
pulse is 88; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The
President has passed another good day. He has taken an adequate
quantity of nourishment, and has had several pleasant naps during
the day. At 12:30 P. M. his pulse was 98; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18. After 4 P. M. his temperature began to rise as
usual, but to a moderate degree and without perceptible dryness of
skin. His pulse is 102; temperature, 100.4; respiration, 19.”
_The thirty-sixth day._—The public had now accepted, with abiding trust,
the oft-repeated assurances of the surgeons that the President was on
the road to health. The White House, from being the center of interest
for the people of the whole country, as it had been two weeks before,
had become the dullest place in Washington. Doctors came in and went
out, and casual inquirers continued their visits. The military guards
patrolled the space in front of the one gate through which access was
had to the grounds, but beyond this nothing in the appearance or
surroundings of the place indicated that public attention was, in any
marked degree, turned in that direction. Great interest in the progress
of the case continued, but it was not so intense and all-absorbing as
hitherto. The bulletins were again the only news:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed an excellent night, sleeping
sweetly the greater part of the time. This morning he is cheerful,
and all the indications promise another favorable day. Pulse, 92;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President passed a
comfortable morning, his symptoms and general condition being quite
satisfactory. At 12:30 P. M. his pulse was 100; temperature, 98.5;
respiration, 19. The afternoon rise of temperature began as late as
yesterday, but has been higher, though unaccompanied by dryness of
skin. At 7 P. M. his pulse was 102; temperature, 101.8; respiration,
19. The appearance of the wound at the evening dressing was,
however, good, and there has been no interruption to the flow of
pus.”
_The thirty-seventh day._—The 7th of August was probably the most quiet
day since the President was wounded. There was some comment about the
city regarding the information contained in the morning bulletin, the
language of which was, that the President “this morning is in good
condition, although the effects of the febrile disturbance of yesterday
are still slightly perceptible in pulse and temperature.” Many persons
construed this sentence as indicative of unfavorable symptoms; but the
general public accepted it as reassuring, and consequently there were
but few inquiries at the Mansion in the course of the day.
Within a narrower and better informed circle it was suspected that
another pus sac was forming in the President’s body, but the opinion did
not, for the time, obtain publicity. The two official bulletins of the
day were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—Shortly after the bulletin of last evening was issued
the President fell into a pleasant sleep, during which the febrile
rise subsided and was no longer perceptible when he awoke at 10 P.
M. Subsequently he slept well, though with occasional breaks during
the rest of the night. No morphia or other anodyne was administered.
This morning he is in good condition, although the effects of the
febrile disturbance of yesterday are still slightly perceptible in
pulse and temperature. At present his pulse is 96; temperature,
98.7; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President has been comfortable
during the day, although his temperature began to rise earlier than
yesterday, and rose almost as high. At 12:30 P. M. his pulse was
104; temperature, 100; respiration, 20. At this hour his pulse is
104; temperature, 101.2; respiration, 20. He has taken nourishment
as usual, and has had several refreshing naps during the day.”
One of the unofficial reports of the day was to the effect that an
effort was making to trace out exactly the course of the wound, and that
to this end an instrument, called the electric probe, was to be inserted
in the track of the ball. Professor Taintor was called to the Executive
Mansion late in the afternoon to consult with the attending surgeons
regarding the use of the electric probe. After the consultation, he was
requested to return in the morning and to bring with him a battery of
two cells. The purpose was, should it be determined to experiment with
the instrument, to endeavor to ascertain the exact course of the wound
from the surface of the body to the spot where the ball was lodged, and
if possible to discover whether there was a pus cavity, and, if so, its
exact location.
_The thirty-eighth day._—On this morning the physicians held a
consultation. The question of the President’s afternoon fever was
discussed, and Dr. Agnew was reported as having urged upon the surgeons
the fact that the febrile rise was greater and more persistent than it
should be if occasioned by the natural and inevitable processes of
healing. The opinion was freely expressed that the channel of the wound
was in some measure obstructed, and the propriety of a second operation
to relieve the difficulty was suggested as the proper remedy.
Accordingly, after the morning dressing of the wound, a second operation
was performed, of which Dr. Bliss has given the following official
account in the _Medical Record_ for October 8, 1881:
“The necessity of the operation was plainly developed by passing a
flexible catheter through the opening previously made, which readily
coursed toward the crest of the ilium, a distance of about seven
inches. This cavity was evacuated twice daily, by passing through
the catheter, previously inserted in the track, an aqueous solution
of permanganate of potash from a small hand-fountain, slightly
elevated, the water and pus returning and escaping at the opening
externally.
“The indications for making a point of exit in the dependent portion
of this pus sac were urgent, and on August 8th the operation was
performed by extending the incision previously made, downward and
forward through the skin, subcutaneous fascia, external and internal
oblique muscles, to a sinus or pus channel. The exposed muscle
contained a considerable number of minute spiculæ of bone. Upon
carrying a long, curved director through the opening between the
fractured rib downward to the point of incision, there was a deeper
channel which had not been exposed by the operation thus far, and
the incision was carried through the transversalis muscle and
transversalis fascia, opening into the deeper track and exposing the
end of the director. A catheter was then passed into the portion of
the track below the incision, a distance of three and one-half
inches, and in a direction near the anterior superior spinous
process of the ilium. The President was etherized during this
operation.”
This description of the operation, as narrated by Dr. Bliss, may
doubtless be accepted, though involving many technical expressions
which, under the circumstances, are unavoidable, as in every way correct
and adequate. The regular bulletins were issued as usual and presented
the following summary of symptoms:
“8:30 A. M.—The President passed a comfortable night and slept well
without an anodyne. The rise of temperature of yesterday afternoon
subsided during the evening, and did not recur at any time through
the night. At present he appears better than yesterday morning.
Pulse, 94; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18.
“10:30.—It having become necessary to make another opening to
facilitate the escape of pus, we took advantage of the improved
condition of the President this morning. Shortly after the morning
bulletin was issued he was etherized. The incision tended downward
and forward, and a counter-opening was made into the track of the
ball below the margin of the twelfth rib, which it is believed will
effect the desired object. He bore the operation well, and has now
recovered from the effects of the etherization and is in excellent
condition.
“7 P. M.—After the last bulletin was issued the President suffered
somewhat for a time from nausea due to the ether, but this has now
subsided. He has had several refreshing naps, and his general
condition is even better than might have been expected after the
etherization and operation. At noon his pulse was 104; temperature,
100.2; respiration, 20. At present his pulse is 108; temperature,
101.9; respiration, 19.”
_The thirty-ninth day._—The effect of the surgical operation was
salutary in so far as to make it practicable to dispense with the
drainage-tube, to the great relief of the patient. The effects of the
etherization, however, were somewhat distressing, and the shock of the
operation no doubt told unfavorably on the President’s small reserve of
vitality. None the less, his condition was so far from unfavorable that
Dr. Agnew returned to Philadelphia and Secretary Blaine made
preparations to take a brief respite from care by a visit to his own
State. The ripple of anxiety, excited by the recent operation, passed
away, and matters went on as before. The official reports of the day
were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—Notwithstanding the effects of yesterday’s operation,
the President slept the greater part of the night without the use of
morphia. This morning his pulse is 98; temperature, 99.8;
respiration, 19. Since yesterday afternoon small quantities of
liquid nourishment, given at short intervals, have been retained,
and this morning larger quantities are being administered without
gastric disturbance.
“12:30 P. M.—At the dressing of the President’s wound this morning,
it was found that pus had been discharged spontaneously and freely
through the counter-opening made yesterday. He has been quite
comfortable this morning, and taken a liberal supply of liquid
nourishment. His pulse is now 104; temperature, 99.7; respiration,
19. 7 P. M.—The President has been very easy during the day, and has
continued to take the nourishment allowed without gastric
disturbance. The degree of fever this P. M. differs little from that
of yesterday. Pulse, 106; temperature, 101.9; respiration, 19.”
It was one of the incidents of the day, that the President wrote his
name, with the date, August 9, 1881, in a comparatively steady hand and
without a serious effort.
_The fortieth day._—The morning news recited that the President’s
appetite had somewhat improved, but this cheering information was
coupled with the announcement that the sufferer had not recovered
sufficiently to be raised, as hitherto, into the semi-recumbent
position. It transpired that the writing of the President’s name on the
previous day had been an official act, namely, the attestation of a
paper of extradition in the case of an escaped Canadian forger, who had
several years yet to serve in prison. The general indications were
thought so favorable that Secretary Blaine did not longer delay his
departure, but left on his contemplated visit for home. In the afternoon
Mrs. Garfield sat for a long time beside her husband, talking with him,
in a quiet way, of things most dear to each. The physicians’ official
report closed the history of the day, as follows:
“8 A. M.—The President slept soundly during the night, and this
morning his temperature is again normal, although his pulse is still
frequent. At present it is 104; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 19.
12:30 P. M.—The President is getting through the day in a very
satisfactory manner. He has asked for, and taken a small quantity of
solid food in addition to the liquid nourishment allowed. His
temperature and respiration continue within the normal range, though
the debility following the operation is still shown by the frequency
of pulse. At present his pulse is 110; temperature, 98.6;
respiration, 19. 7 P. M.—The President has passed an excellent day.
The drainage of the wound is now efficient, and the pus secreted by
the deeper portions has been coming away spontaneously. The
afternoon rise of temperature is almost a degree less than yesterday
and the day before. Pulse at present 108; temperature, 101;
respiration, 19.”
_The forty-first day._—The passing epoch was again marked by a division
of opinion among the newspapers. A series of leading articles in the New
York _Herald_, understood to be from the pen of Dr. Hammond, were not
only despondent in tone and severe upon the attending surgeons, but
positively prophetic of a fatal termination of the President’s case.
This view of the matter was, however, ably controverted in other leading
papers, and the people were thus both led and misled. Looking to the
sick room itself, there seemed to be not much cause for alarm. The
President had improved somewhat in strength and appetite. He conversed
freely. Especially did he surprise and gratify his attendants by calling
for a writing tablet and penning a short but affectionate letter to his
mother,—the last he ever wrote.
Turning to the official reports of the day, the following summary of the
President’s progress was presented:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed an exceedingly good night;
sleeping sweetly with but few short breaks, and awaking refreshed
this morning at a later hour than usual. At the morning dressing,
just completed, it was found that the deeper parts of the wound had
been emptied spontaneously. His temperature shows an entire absence
of fever this morning, and his pulse, which is less frequent than
yesterday, is improving in quality. At present it is 100;
temperature, 98.6; respiration, 19.
“12:30 P. M.—The President is doing well to-day. Besides a liberal
supply of liquid nourishment at regular intervals, he has taken for
breakfast, with evident relish, an increased quantity of solid food.
He continues free from fever, his skin is moist, but without undue
perspiration. Pulse, 102; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 19.
“7 P. M.—After the noon bulletin was issued, the President’s
condition continued as then reported until about 4 P. M., when the
commencement of the afternoon febrile rise was noted. In its degree
it did not differ materially from that of yesterday. His pulse is
now 108; temperature, 101.2; respiration, 19.”
[Illustration: FAC-SIMILE OF THE LAST LETTER WRITTEN BY GARFIELD.]
_The forty-second day._—Not much change. The President was weary and
longed for a change of scene. The day when he could be safely removed
from the White House was anxiously anticipated both by himself and the
physicians. The United States steamer Tallapoosa, which had been
undergoing repairs and fitting out for sea during the past month, was
finally in complete readiness, and would be manned on the morrow.
Assistant Paymaster Henry D. Smith, formerly of the Dispatch, had been
transferred to the Tallapoosa. In a conversation of the morning, Mr.
Smith gave a description of the manner in which the vessel had been
fitted out. A suite of rooms had been prepared expressly for the use of
President Garfield in the event of its being found practicable to take
him out on the water, and at this time the suggestion of such a cruise
seemed to please him greatly. The suite consisted of four comparatively
large rooms, including a bed-chamber, reception and ante-room, and a
bath-room. Paymaster Smith said further, that if it should be determined
to take the President on the vessel, a swinging bed would be hung in his
chamber so that the patient should not be annoyed by the motion of the
vessel. Such were the plans and hopes which were never, alas, to be
realized.
The surgeons’ reports for August 12th contained about all that could be
said concerning the President’s condition for the day:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept well during the greater part of the
night. The fever of yesterday afternoon subsided during the evening,
and has not been perceptible since 10 P. M. His general condition
this morning is good. Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.6; respiration,
19.
“12:30 P. M.—The President has passed a comfortable morning. He
continues to take, with repugnance, the liquid nourishment allowed,
and ate with relish for breakfast, a larger quantity of solid food
than he took yesterday. At present his pulse is 100; temperature,
99.3; respiration, 19.
“7 P. M.—The President has passed a comfortable day. At the evening
dressing the wound was found to be doing well. The quantity of pus
secreted is gradually diminishing. Its character is healthy. The
rise of temperature this afternoon reached the same point as
yesterday. At present the pulse is 108; temperature, 101.2;
respiration, 19.”
Thus from hour to hour, from day to day, from week to week, did the
President tread the long and weary way onward and—downward.
_The forty-third day._—It was about this time that the attending
surgeons finally abandoned their original diagnosis of the wound; that
is, in so far as it concerned the direction of the ball. For some time
Dr. Hamilton had given it as his view that the bullet, instead of
entering the peritoneal cavity, and perforating the liver, had been
turned downward at nearly a right angle to its course, and was lodged in
the region behind the ilium. This view of the case was now accepted by
the physicians in charge. In a conversation of the day, Dr. Bliss said
that the latest examinations of the wound had clearly shown that the
ball did not go through the liver. The liver was certainly injured by
the shot, either by concussion or inflammation. At the present time,
however, every indication corroborated the idea that the ball was in the
region of the iliac fossa, and also that it was doing no harm.
Things had not gone well during the night. The President had been
restless; and, contrary to the usual history of the case, fever was
reported in the morning bulletin. The foreign dispatch of Hon. R. R.
Hitt, Acting Secretary of State, referred to the President’s excited
condition, and could only reiterate the somewhat uncertain echo of the
bulletins, that the surgeons thought him “doing well.” The official
reports themselves were couched in the following language;
“8:30 A. M.—The President did not sleep as well as usual during the
early part of the night. After midnight, however, his sleep was
refreshing, and broken only at long intervals. This morning he has a
little fever, nevertheless he expresses himself as feeling better
than for several days past. Pulse, 104; temperature, 100.8;
respiration, 19. 12:30 P. M.—The President has been cheerful and
easy during the morning, and his temperature has fallen a little
more than a degree and a half since the morning bulletin was issued.
His pulse is now 102; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 18. 6:30 P.
M.—Since the last bulletin the President has continued to do well.
The afternoon fever has been half a degree less than yesterday. At
present his pulse is 104; temperature, 100.7; respiration, 19.”
_The forty-fourth day._—One of the difficulties with which President
Garfield had to contend was a certain weakness of digestion.
Notwithstanding his great bodily strength and general robustness, it
appears that never after the war were his assimilative powers equal to
superficial indications. He had been, both by preference and necessity,
a plain liver. The “eating” of the White House had not suited him. The
French cookery of the establishment had proved at once distasteful and
injurious to his health and spirits. After he was wounded, this weakness
in his bodily functions became at once more pronounced. Great difficulty
was experienced in securing an alimentation sufficient to sustain life
and repair the fearful waste to which he was subjected. The
sensitiveness of the digestive organs at times became critical. It was
so on the 14th of August, when the physicians were almost baffled in the
attempt to maintain nutrition. For the first time there was talk of the
stronger stimulants. Whisky and brandy were both used, though not in
large quantities. It could be plainly seen that under the outwardly
confident tone of the official reports there lurked the shadow of fear.
The regular bulletins of the day came out as usual, with the following
account of the sufferer’s condition:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept well during the night, and this
morning expresses himself as feeling comfortable. His temperature is
one degree less than at the same hour yesterday. His general
condition is good. Pulse, 100; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 18.
12:30 P. M.—The President has done well this morning. His
temperature has fallen one-half a degree since the last bulletin was
issued. At the morning dressing the condition of the wound was found
to be excellent, and the discharge of pus adequate and healthy.
Pulse, 96; temperature, 99.3; respiration, 18. 6:30 P. M.—The
condition of the President has not materially changed since noon.
The afternoon febrile rise is about the same as yesterday. Pulse,
108; temperature, 100.8; respiration, 19.”
_The forty-fifth day._—A day of great alarm; and the alarm was fully
justified. There was evidence of weakening all around. The respiration
had gone up. The temperature had gone up. So had the pulse to a fearful
rate. The enfeebled stomach had broken down. That was the secret of the
difficulty. Without food a well man can not live. How much less a man
wounded to death and wasted by forty-five days of suffering! With every
attempt to feed the President, his stomach rejected the food. If this
state of things should continue, life would go out like a taper. It was
to the credit of the surgeons in charge that they took the situation
coolly and set about devising the best possible means of triumphing over
the fearful obstacle which lay squarely across the possibility of
recovery. The plan suggested and resorted to was artificial alimentation
by the administration of enemata. In the after part of the day,
Washington, and indeed the whole country, was filled with wild rumors
which conveyed very little information and could be traced to no
authentic source. The only trustworthy information was to be obtained
from the official bulletins of the surgeons, which were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President did not rest as well as usual last night.
Until toward three o’clock his sleep was not sound, and he awoke at
short intervals. His stomach was irritable and he vomited several
times. About three o’clock he became composed, and slept well until
after seven this morning. His stomach is still irritable, and his
temperature rather higher than yesterday. At present his pulse is
108; temperature, 100.2; respiration, 20. 12:30 P. M.—Since the last
bulletin, the President has not again vomited, and has been able to
retain the nourishment administered. At the morning dressing, the
discharge of pus was free and of good character. Since then his
pulse has been more frequent; but the temperature has fallen to a
little below what it was at this time yesterday. At present his
pulse is 118; temperature, 99; respiration, 19. 6:30 P. M.—The
irritability of the President’s stomach returned during the
afternoon and he has vomited three times since one o’clock. Although
the afternoon rise of temperature is less than it has been for
several days, the pulse and respiration are more frequent, so that
his condition is, on the whole, less satisfactory. His pulse is now
130; temperature, 99.6; respiration, 22.”
These reports clearly indicated the most serious crisis which had yet
occurred since the President was shot. Unless the functions of the
stomach could be restored by rest, there could be but one issue, and
that was near at hand.
_The forty-sixth day._—All that could be said was that there had been
slight improvement in some particulars. In the main matter—that of
nourishment—the case was as bad as ever. Neither the city nor the
country would have been surprised to hear that the President was dying
or dead. The whole question, as matters now stood, was this: How long
can he live? He himself was conscious, in good measure, of the appalling
odds against him, but his calm heroism never wavered for a moment. From
the first he only once—and that but for an instant—gave way to
despondency, when he said to his wife that, considering the fact that he
was already fifty years old, and that the brief remainder of his life
would, perhaps, be weakened—possibly helpless—from his injury, it hardly
appeared to be worth the struggle which his friends and himself were
making to save it. This thought, however, found but a moment’s lodgment;
and even now, when his vital forces seemed to be flowing out to the last
ebb of despair, he stood up manfully and faced the enemy. His will
remained vigorous, and he was cheerful in spirit—this, too, when the
very water which was tendered him to refresh his exhausted powers was
instantly rejected by the stomach. It was clear that no human vigor
could long withstand so dreadful an ordeal; and the physicians
recognized and acknowledged the fact that their unnatural system of
alimentation was but a makeshift which would presently end in failure.
Then death. The bulletins said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President was somewhat restless during the early
part of the night. Since three o’clock he has slept tranquilly most
of the time. Nutritious enemata are successfully employed to sustain
him. Altogether the symptoms are less urgent than yesterday
afternoon. At present his pulse is 110; temperature, 98.6;
respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—The President has been tranquil since
the morning bulletin, but has not yet rallied from the prostration
of yesterday as much as was hoped. The enemata administered are
still retained. At present his pulse is 114; temperature, 98.3;
respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President’s symptoms are still grave,
yet he seems to have lost no ground during the day, and his
condition on the whole is rather better than yesterday. The enemata
are retained. At present his pulse is 120; temperature, 98.9;
respiration, 19.”
_The forty-seventh day._—Notwithstanding the desperate extreme to which
the poor President was reduced, the dispatches came, on the morning of
August 17th, with the news that he was better. The dreadful nausea had
passed, and two or three times some nutritive food had been swallowed
and retained. Moreover, he had slept as much as an hour at a time. The
examination of the wound, too, showed some little ground for
encouragement, for the process of healing had gone on, notwithstanding
the terrible exhaustion of the last three days. In the inner circle
about the President’s bed there was a more hopeful feeling. “Little
Crete,” the darling wife of the suffering Chief Magistrate, ventured
out, with her three boys, to take a drive in the open air. Mr. Smalley,
of the _Tribune_, thus spoke of her, as her carriage passed through the
gateway:
“Her face, as she gave a nod and a smile of recognition, looked
bright and hopeful. I knew that the agony of apprehension must be
over and the President must be on the upward road again. The brave
little woman! What a terrible strain she has endured and with what
wonderful courage and patience she has met every fresh draft upon
her strength and resolution, keeping always out of her face the pain
and dread tugging at her heart, lest the slightest glimpse of it
should discourage her husband in his long battle with death! I
remember that at Elberon, just before the fatal journey to
Washington, General Garfield spoke of her with tenderness and pride,
as a steel-spring sort of a woman—supple, bright, enduring, and
rebounding after the severest strains. If he wins his way back to
health again he will owe his recovery, I firmly believe, as much to
the loving and cheerful ministrations of his wife, as to the six
doctors who wait upon him, skillful and devoted as they are.”
Later in the day, Mrs. Garfield received a dispatch from the Queen—there
has been only one Queen since the President was shot—which was answered
by the wife in her own way. The dispatches were as follows:
“_To Mrs. Garfield, Washington, D. C._:
“I am most anxious to know how the President is to-day, and to
express my deep sympathy with you both.
“THE QUEEN, Osborne.”
“_Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Osborne, England_:
“Your Majesty’s kind inquiry finds the President’s condition changed
for the better. In the judgment of his medical advisers there is
strong hope of his recovery. His mind is entirely clear, and your
Majesty’s kind expressions of sympathy are most grateful to him, as
they are gratefully acknowledged by me.
LUCRETIA R. GARFIELD.”
The regular bulletins gave the usual epitome of symptoms, as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a tranquil night, sleeping most
of the time. He continues to retain the nutritive enemata, and has
not vomited since the last bulletin. His general condition appears
more hopeful than at this time yesterday. Pulse, 110; temperature,
98.3; respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—The President’s condition has not
materially changed since the last bulletin. He has been tranquil and
has slept some, has not vomited, and the nutritive enemata are still
retained. Pulse, 112; temperature, 98.7; respiration, 18. 6:30 P.
M.—The President’s condition is even better than it was this
morning. The wound continues to do well. At present his pulse is
112; temperature, 98.8; respiration, 18.”
Meanwhile the trusted Secretary Blaine had reached Washington and was
again at the bedside of his chief. In the evening he sent abroad two
dispatches containing a brief summary of the President’s condition as
determined by the official reports and by his own observation. And so
the day closed in hope rather than despair.
_The forty-eighth day._—The President was still further improved—so
thought and said his physicians. The mutinous stomach, which had
threatened to end his life by refusing to perform its work at a time
when it was not possible for his weakened system to bear for any
lengthened period the strain of the wound and the fever without
sustenance, had renewed its functions, and the experiments made during
the day gave reasons to hope that nourishing food might now be
administered with safety. It was good news indeed, and it would have
been better if it had not been coupled with the statement that the
President was reduced almost to a skeleton. From 210 pounds—his weight
when shot—he had wasted away till his weight was hardly 135 pounds. Yet
with only this pitiful bony structure of himself left he was reported as
_cheerful and brave_! He was able to take more nourishment than on the
previous day, and it appeared that his alimentation was now likely to be
sufficient; but just as this beneficial reaction became noticeable,
another complication arose which threatened to overbalance all the
expected good. On the 17th of August a slight inflammation was noticed
in the right parotid gland. By the following morning the swelling was
more pronounced, and immediately became a source of annoyance and alarm.
The tumefaction assumed the appearance of a carbuncle and there were
indications of approaching suppuration of the gland. The face,
especially on the right side, became distorted, and the President
suffered great pain from the inflamed part. It was clear that in some
measure the blood of the sufferer had been poisoned by the discharges of
the wound, and that nature was attempting to relieve her distress by the
destruction of a gland. The official bulletins of the day, though
pervaded with the same spirit of optimism which characterized them all,
were not of a sort to inspire confidence. They said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a very comfortable night,
sleeping well the greater part of the time. This morning his pulse
is slower and his general condition better than yesterday at the
same hour. Pulse, 104, temperature, 98.8; respiration, 17. 12:30 P.
M.—The President is suffering some discomfort this morning from
commencing inflammation of the right parotid gland. He has asked for
and retained several portions of liquid nourishment, much more than
he could swallow yesterday. The nutritive enemata continue to be
used with success. At present his pulse is 108; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18. 6:30 P. M.—The President has done well during the
day. He has taken additional nourishment by the mouth this afternoon
with evident relish and without subsequent nausea. His general
condition is rather better than at this time yesterday. Pulse, 108;
temperature, 100; respiration, 18.”
_The forty-ninth day._—With the 19th of August a more hopeful feeling
again predominated. It was alleged by the surgeons that the President
had made some improvement. Some was better than none. His nutriment for
the day amounted to nine ounces of liquid food. The physicians gave
assurance to the public that the inflamed gland did not necessarily
imply blood poisoning. The President slept at intervals. In his waking
moments he was still cheerful, but expressed a great yearning to get
away from Washington and return to his home at Lawnfield.
In these days of alternate hope and anxious alarm the question naturally
arose as to what had become of the Executive Department of the
Government. The President was still himself in a certain sense, but he
was without doubt utterly incapacitated to perform any executive duty.
There was no acting President, and to tell the truth the people did not
desire one. Some leading papers advocated the assumption of certain of
the duties of the President by members of the Cabinet; but this untried
and—it may be added—unconstitutional measure was not attempted; and so
all executive functions remained in abeyance. The acts usually performed
by the President were simply omitted until he should recover.
Fortunately in a time of peace and during a recess of Congress, these
acts could be postponed without any great detriment to public interests.
The appointing power, except in so far as it is delegated by law to the
heads of Departments, was in a state of complete suspension, but this
fact occasioned no trouble, except to applicants for office. Under our
system, where vacancies in Presidential appointments occur, by death or
resignation, there is usually a deputy or some other officer who is
authorized by law to perform temporarily the duties of the office. In
the cases of post-offices where there are no deputy postmasters, the
Post-Office Department is authorized to send special agents to take
charge until the vacant postmastership can be filled. If the President’s
prostration should continue—so reasoned the people—until the meeting of
Congress—a contingency wholly improbable—there would be no stoppage of
any part of the machinery of Government. In short, the American people
were taught by a practical, though painful, example the great lesson,
how little need there is for a nation of freemen to be governed—how
amply able such a people are to adapt themselves to any emergency. The
official reports of the day gave as usual the facts on which various
opinions of the President’s prospects were based:
“8 A. M.—The President slept much of the night, and this morning is
more comfortable than yesterday. The swelling of the right parotid
gland has not increased since yesterday. Nutritive enemata are still
given with success, and liquid food has been swallowed and relished.
Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 17.
“12:30 P. M.—The President’s condition has perceptibly improved
during the last twenty-four hours. He is taking to-day an increased
quantity of liquid food by the mouth. His pulse is now 106;
temperature, 98.8; respiration, 17.
“6:30 P. M.—The President has been very easy during the afternoon
and the favorable conditions reported in the last bulletin continue.
Pulse, 106; temperature, 100; respiration, 18.”
_The fiftieth day._—There could be no denial of another rally—though
slight—on the part of the President. During the day a surgical
experience occurred. Dr. Bliss, in treating the wound, succeeded in
passing with a flexible tube what he _supposed_ to be an obstruction in
the path of the ball. When this was done, the tube suddenly dropped,
almost of its own weight, down the channel[6] to the depth of _twelve
and a half inches_! The end of the probe was thus brought, as was
confidently believed, into immediate proximity with the ball. The
parotitis, from which the President was now suffering so severely, was
reported as “about the same.” As a consequence of this inflammation,
though no acknowledgment of the fact was made at the time, the patient’s
face suffered a partial paralysis, which continued seriously to afflict
him to the last. The summary of symptoms was published at the usual
hours by the surgeons and presented the following statement of the
President’s condition.
Footnote 6:
This channel was, of course, not the track of the ball, but the
insidious burrow of the pus, unfortunately assisted in its downward
progress by the mistaken manipulations of the surgeons.
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a quiet night, and this morning
his condition does not differ materially from what it was yesterday.
The swelling of the parotid gland is unchanged and is free from
pain. This morning his pulse is 98; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
18.
“12:30 P. M.—The President continues to do well. He is taking liquid
food by the mouth in increased quantity and with relish. The
nutritive enemata are still successfully given, but at longer
intervals. His pulse is now 107; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18.
“6:30 P. M.—The President has passed the day quietly. He has been
able to take more liquid food by the mouth than yesterday, and the
quantity given by enema has been proportionately diminished. The
parotid swelling remains about the same. Pulse, 110; temperature,
100.4; respiration, 19.”
_The fifty-first day._—It was a long and sorrowful journey. There were
pitfalls in the way. That inflamed gland now became a source of profound
anxiety. The salivary secretions were so augmented and at the same time
vitiated as constantly to fill the patient’s throat, threatening
strangulation. The tendency to nausea was thus excited, and the
President’s stomach again rejected food. This fact told immediately on
the modicum of strength still remaining, and as the day progressed it
appeared that medical skill was about exhausted in a hopeless struggle
against the inevitable. The surgeons, however, as is the wont with the
profession, still renewed the battle, now with this expedient and now
with that, but always with the purpose of keeping the President alive
until some kind of favorable reaction could supervene. The feature of
the day’s history was that the most serious alarm was spread abroad
after the issuance of the evening bulletin. The three official reports
were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President awoke more frequently than usual, yet
slept sufficiently during the night, and appears comfortable this
morning. The parotid swelling is about the same, but is not painful.
He took liquid nourishment by the mouth several times during the
night as well as this morning. Pulse, 106; temperature, 98.8;
respiration, 18.
“12:30 P. M.—The President’s condition continues about as at the
morning bulletin, except that there is a slight rise of temperature.
Pulse, 108; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 18.
“6:30 P. M.—The President has vomited three times during the
afternoon; the administration of food by the mouth has, therefore,
again been temporarily suspended and the nutritive enemata will be
given more frequently. Pulse, 108; temperature, 99.2; respiration,
18.”
To these regular bulletins may well be added the foreign dispatch of
Secretary Blaine, who, at a late hour, sent to Minister Lowell the
following message:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President’s sleep last night was broken and restless. His
symptoms throughout the day have been less favorable, and his
general condition is not encouraging. He is unable to retain food on
his stomach, having vomited twice during the afternoon, the last
time at 5 o’clock. This evening he has been able to drink water and
retain it. The swelling of the parotid gland has not increased.
Pulse and temperature about the same as yesterday. His sleep up to
this hour (11 P. M.) has been somewhat disturbed. We are all deeply
anxious.
“BLAINE, Secretary.”
_The fifty-second day._—The question was, how much longer the wheels of
vexed and exhausted Nature could continue to revolve. Every power of
life within the uncomplaining man was prostrated or dead. The
inflammation in the gland had now progressed to a terrible extent, and
an operation for its relief was already contemplated. That blood
poisoning to some extent now existed, could hardly be controverted. Even
the oversanguine Dr. Bliss was forced to admit it. In a conversation of
the day, and in reply to questions with regard to the inflamed gland, he
said: “The glandular swelling is still hard, and shows no signs of
subsiding. The swelling of the surrounding parts has pretty much
disappeared. Whether suppuration will take place or not we can not yet
tell. I am inclined to think it will. I do not, however, apprehend any
serious consequences even in that case, provided we can maintain the
patient’s strength. The pus which forms is likely to be of a healthy
character, and we shall liberate it promptly by an incision. There has
been no pain in the gland this afternoon, and it has caused the patient
little annoyance.”
With regard to the septic tint in the blood, which was the predisposing
cause of the glandular inflammation, Dr. Bliss said: “In cases of this
kind, where the patient becomes enfeebled by long-continued fever and
suppuration, there is always a low and impoverished state of the blood.
It is, indeed, a sort of mild blood poisoning, but it is very different
from pyæmia. Pyæmia is caused by absorption into the blood of the
disunited elements of broken down pus. Small fragments of fibrine are
carried into the circulation, and wherever such a fragment lodges in one
of the minute blood-vessels it becomes a center of suppuration. The
symptoms of pyæmia, such as the disorganization and peculiar odor of the
pus, the yellowish tint of the skin, the odor of the breath and the
increased temperature of the body, are all marked and unmistakable, and
none of them has at any time appeared in the President’s case.”
Thus with vain conjectures and provisos did the distinguished surgeon
attempt to keep up his own courage and that of the public. But it was
now well known that, bulletins or no bulletins, the President, unless
promptly relieved either by medical skill or some unexpected revival of
nature, was down to the very door of death. The official reports of the
day were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has not vomited since yesterday afternoon,
and this morning he has twice asked for and received a small
quantity of fluid nourishment by the mouth. He slept more quietly
during the night, and this morning his general condition is more
encouraging than when the last bulletin was issued. Pulse, 104;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18.
“12:30 P. M.—The President has continued this morning to retain
liquid nourishment taken by the mouth as well as by enema. There has
been no recurrence of the vomiting and no nausea. Pulse, 104;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18.
“6:30 P. M.—The President has continued to take nourishment in small
quantities at stated intervals during the entire day, and has had no
return of nausea or vomiting. The nutrient enemata are also
retained. Pulse, 110; temperature, 100.1; respiration, 19.”
_The fifty-third day._—How is the President this morning? The President
had made a gain. Of a certainty, he was not any further in the shadow of
the valley than on yesterday. He had taken in all, since the morning
before, about thirty ounces of liquid food without disturbing his
stomach. Several times he called for food himself. One of the physicians
said during the day that the President had taken more than sufficient
food to repair the day’s waste. At one time his pulse was down to
ninety-six—the lowest point it had reached for more than a fortnight.
Secretary Blaine—in whose dispatches the people had learned to place the
highest reliance—expressed himself somewhat more hopefully to Minister
Lowell, in the night message, which read as follows:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President’s condition is more encouraging than it was at this
time last night. During the last twenty-four hours he has swallowed
ten ounces of extract of beef and eighteen ounces of milk, retaining
and digesting both. He has twice asked for food, which he has not
done before for several days. Pulse and temperature are both
somewhat lower. The swelling of the parotid gland has not specially
changed. Its long continuance at the present stage increases the
fear of suppuration. At this hour—11 o’clock—the physicians report
that the President has rested quietly the entire evening.
BLAINE, _Secretary_.”
Anxious concern about the President’s condition on the part of the
public was tempered with so much hopefulness that the evidences of
excitement somewhat abated. The street gatherings about the
bulletin-boards in the principal cities were not so large as they had
been, although the three official bulletins from the physicians and
Secretary Blaine’s message to Minister Lowell were eagerly waited for
and much talked of in public places. These bulletins were, in the usual
form, as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept the greater part of the night, but
awoke at frequent intervals. He has taken since last evening a
larger quantity of liquid food by the mouth than in the
corresponding hours of any day during the past week. The use of
nutrient enemata is continued at longer intervals. Pulse, 100;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18.
“12:30 P. M.—The President continues to take by the mouth and retain
an increased quantity of liquid food. At the morning dressing the
wound looked well and the pus was of a healthy character. The mucus
accumulations in the back of the mouth are less viscid. At present
his pulse is 104; temperature, 98.9; respiration, 18.
“6:30 P. M.—The President has continued to take liquid food by the
mouth at regular intervals during the day, and has had no recurrence
of gastric disorder. Pulse, 104; temperature, 99.2; respiration,
19.”
_The fifty-fourth day._—The events of the day were two: First, the
lancing of the inflamed gland—an operation but partially successful in
its results; secondly, a consultation of the surgeons in regard to
removing the President from the White House. Dr. Agnew was summoned to
the city by telegram. He was driven at once to the Executive Mansion,
where the cabinet and medical council were in consultation, and remained
closeted with them until nearly midnight. The consultation lasted rather
more than an hour; and, so far as could be ascertained, it resulted in a
disagreement. All of the participating surgeons who could be seen
refused to talk upon the subject, as did also the members of the
Cabinet, most of whom were at the White House until after eleven
o’clock.
A third circumstance of the day’s history was the reported delirium of
the President. This was for awhile concealed, and then palliated by
those nearest the bedside. Colonel Rockwell, one of the attendants, in
conversation with a reporter, described the mental disturbance thus:
“The President is sometimes a little incoherent for a moment after he
awakes and before he fully gets control of his senses, just as any body
would be in his weak and debilitated condition and after seven weeks of
fever; but at all other times his mind is as clear as ever.”
The dispatch of Secretary Blaine was very much less hopeful than the one
of the night before. It read as follows:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President has not gained to-day. He has had a higher fever,
which began earlier than is usual with his febrile rise. In the
afternoon an incision was made in the swollen parotid gland by Dr.
Hamilton. The flow of pus therefrom was small. The one favorable
symptom of his swallowing liquid food with apparent relish and
digestion has continued, but the general feeling up to midnight is
one of increased anxiety.
“BLAINE, _Secretary_.”
To this might well be added the additional hopeful circumstance that
during the day the President’s assimilative powers appeared to be again
in such condition as to warrant the physicians in dispensing with the
system of artificial alimentation. The regular bulletins for the day
were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a very good night, awaking at
longer intervals than during several nights past. He continues to
take liquid food by the mouth with more relish, and in such quantity
that the enemata will be suspended for the present. No change has
yet been observed in the parotid swelling. The other symptoms are
quite as favorable as yesterday. Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.5;
respiration, 17.
“12:30 P. M.—The President continues to take liquid food by the
mouth as reported in the last bulletin. His temperature has risen
slightly since that time. In other respects his condition is about
the same. Pulse, 104; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 17.
“6:30 P. M.—Shortly after the noon bulletin was issued an incision
was made into the swelling on the right side of the President’s face
for the purpose of relieving the tension of the swollen parotid
gland, and of giving vent to pus, a small quantity of which was
evacuated. He has taken a larger quantity of liquid food by the
mouth to-day than yesterday, and has been entirely free from nausea.
Pulse, 108; temperature, 100.7; respiration, 19.”
_The fifty-fifth day._—The first report of the morning indicated that
there was no more than a bare possibility of President Garfield’s
recovery. His condition was such as to cause the gravest apprehensions
as to the immediate result. He continued to take food, but there was no
perceptible increase in strength. His condition—with his wasted form,
distorted and half-paralyzed face, dreadful wound, and suppurating
gland—was pitiable in the last degree. Hallucinations came on, and he
talked incoherently—now of his immediate surroundings, and now of his
old home at Mentor. There was little remaining for the surgeons to do.
Their effort for the time was directed chiefly to the alleviation of the
inflamed gland, which was now playing havoc with the few springs of
vitality yet remaining as a source of hope. The whole gland was found to
be infiltrated with pus, and the outlook, even for the night, was grave
in the extreme. The physicians’ bulletins, four in number to-day, were
published, as usual, and presented to the anxious country several points
of interest:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept most of the night. He has taken
liquid food by the mouth at stated intervals and in sufficient
quantity, so that the enemata have not been renewed. No modification
of the parotid swelling has yet been observed. Pulse, 106;
temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18.
“9:15 A. M.—The subject of the removal of the President from
Washington at the present time was earnestly considered by us last
night and again this morning. After mature deliberation the
conclusion was arrived at by the majority that it would not be
prudent, although all agree that it will be very desirable at the
earliest time at which his condition may warrant it.
“12:30 P. M.—Since the issue of this morning’s bulletin a rise in
the President’s temperature similar to that which occurred yesterday
morning has been observed. Pulse, 112; temperature, 99.2;
respiration, 19.
“6:30 P. M.—There has been little change in the President’s
condition since the noon bulletin was issued. The frequency of his
pulse is now the same as then. His temperature has risen somewhat,
but it is not so high as yesterday evening. No unfavorable change
has been observed in the condition of the wound. He has taken by the
mouth a sufficient supply of liquid food. Pulse, 112; temperature,
99.8; respiration, 19.”
_The fifty-sixth day._—The morning papers were almost exclusively
devoted to the President and the prospect of death. The great New York
dailies presented page after page of dispatches, interviews, and
discussions. The sum of it all was this: The President was alive, but,
in all probability, on the verge of death. His pulse rose to a mere
flutter. The abscess in the gland burst into the cavity of the ear. His
mind still wandered, but there was slightly less aberration than
yesterday. Washington was a strange scene. There was suppressed
excitement, but no noise. Little knots of people gathered in groups here
and there before the bulletin-boards, where the latest intelligence was
posted, while negro newsboys in their picturesque costumes cried their
extras in the mellow Southern accent peculiar to their race. The intense
August sun poured down his rays on the broad streets and asphaltum
boulevards. The trees were browned with the dust and heat, and the
patches of grass here and there in the yards and parks were withered
into hay. Above it all, gleaming white and silent, rose the great dome
of the Capitol. Alas, what was it all to _him_?
There was in the midst of infinite rumors and conjectures only a modicum
of news. It was this: the President could still take food. His mind had
cleared a little since yesterday. As for the rest, he lay helpless,
ready to die. The bulletins said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept most of the night, awaking at
intervals of half an hour to an hour. On first awaking there was, as
there has been for several nights past, some mental confusion, which
disappeared when he was fully roused, and occasionally he muttered
in his sleep. These symptoms have abated this morning, as on
previous days. His temperature is slightly above the normal and his
pulse a little more frequent than yesterday morning. Pulse, 108;
temperature, 99.1; respiration, 17.
“12:30 P. M.—His pulse and temperature are at present higher than at
the corresponding hour for some days. He continues to take by the
mouth the liquid food prescribed; nevertheless, we regard his
condition as critical. Pulse, 118; temperature, 100; respiration,
18.”
“6:30 P. M.—The President’s condition has not changed materially
since the last bulletin was issued. He continues to take, by the
mouth, the liquid food prescribed, and occasionally asks for it.
Since yesterday forenoon, commencing at 11:30 A. M., the enemata
have again been given at regular intervals, as a means of
administering stimulants, as well as nutrition. They are retained
without trouble. Pulse, 116; temperature, 99.9; respiration, 18.”
_The fifty-seventh day._—Another long day of suspense. It was the
peculiarity of President Garfield’s illness that just as some great
crisis came and his constitutional forces seemed to break hopelessly, at
some other point there would be a rally. In this last case, when the
distressing abscess in the parotid gland had added its aggravating
horrors to horrors already accumulated, and just as tired nature seemed
sinking to everlasting rest, there was a rally in the assimilative
powers. Unexpectedly, the stomach began to perform its work; and thus
the tree of life, shaken back and forth by conflicting forces, still
rose feebly and stood. It was a melancholy sight to see this enfeebled
and wasted life, so dear to the Nation, still standing, with its
glorious foliage torn away—withered, blighted, dying.
The Queen on this day again expressed her great anxiety about the
President. Her dispatch, and Mr. Blaine’s answer, were as follows:
“LONDON, Aug. 27.
“BLAINE, _Secretary, Washington_:
“I have just received from Her Majesty the Queen, at Balmoral, a
telegram in these words: ‘I am most deeply grieved at the sad news
of the last few days, and would wish my deep sympathy to be conveyed
to Mrs. Garfield.’
LOWELL, Minister.”
“WASHINGTON, Aug. 27.
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“I have submitted to Mrs. Garfield your telegram conveying the
kindly message from Her Majesty the Queen. Mrs. Garfield is
constantly by her husband’s bedside and does not give up all hope of
his recovery. Her request is that you will return to the Queen her
most sincere thanks, and express her heartfelt appreciation of the
constant interest and tender sympathy shown by Her Majesty toward
the President and his family in their deep grief and most painful
suspense.
BLAINE, Secretary.”
[Illustration: BLAINE READING LETTERS OF SYMPATHY TO MRS. GARFIELD.]
The Americans, in a political point of view, do not like kings and
queens; but it will be many a long year before the womanly greatness and
tenderness of Victoria, manifested in our hour of sorrow, will be
obliterated from the American heart. _Vivat semper Regina!_
The daily bulletins of the surgeons told all that could be known of the
beloved President:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept from half an hour to an hour or more
at a time throughout the night. He continues to retain the liquid
food administered by the mouth and the stimulating enemata.
Nevertheless, his pulse has been more frequent since midnight and he
is evidently feebler this morning than yesterday. Pulse, 120;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 22.
“12:30 P. M.—There has been no improvement in the President’s
condition since the last bulletin was issued. He continues to retain
the liquid food administered by the mouth as well as the enemata. At
present the pulse is 120; temperature, 99.6; respiration, 22.
“6:30 P. M.—The President’s symptoms show slight amelioration this
afternoon. His pulse is somewhat less frequent and his temperature
lower. The liquid food given by the mouth and the enemata continues
to be retained. Pulse, 114; temperature, 98.9; respiration, 22.”
_The fifty-eighth day._—The reports of the morning were briefer. They
were also more encouraging. It was clear that the President,
notwithstanding his desperate condition, had held his own for
thirty-eight hours, and that there were some unmistakable signs of
improvement. It could not be said with truth that the change was great
or marked, but there had been some amelioration. The shadow of death was
lifted, at least for a day. The people, quick to run to extremes, gave a
sigh of relief at the more cheering reports of the morning, and went
whither they listed. It was said that the President had had another
relapse and was now better again. Even the cautious Secretary of State
was impressed with the belief that the President’s improvement was more
than a temporary rally. In his foreign dispatch he summed up the case
thus:
“_To_ LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The condition of the President at 10 o’clock continues as favorable
as could be expected. Within the past thirty hours his improvement
has given great encouragement to the attending surgeons. He swallows
an adequate supply of liquid food; the parotid swelling discharges
freely, and gives promise of marked improvement. His mind is
perfectly clear. He has, perhaps, a little more fever than was
anticipated, and his respiration is somewhat above normal. The
general feeling is one of hopefulness. Two or three days more of
improvement will be needed to inspire confidence.
BLAINE, Secretary.”
The monotonous official reports were telegraphed as usual, in the
following messages:
“8:30 A. M.—The amelioration of the President’s symptoms announced
in last evening’s bulletin continued during the night. Since
midnight some further improvement has been observed, the pulse
diminishing in frequency. The stomach has continued to retain liquid
nourishment administered, and last evening he asked for and ate a
small quantity of milk toast. Stimulating and nutrient enemata
continue to be retained. Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
17.
“12:30 P. M.—At the morning dressing of the President several
yellowish points were observed just below the ear over the swollen
parotid, and an incision being made, about a teaspoonful of
healthy-looking pus escaped. Pulse, 104; temperature, 99.5;
respiration, 18.
“7:30 P. M.—The improvement in the President’s condition, declared
yesterday afternoon, is still maintained. He continues to take
willingly the liquid food given by the mouth, and is apparently
digesting it. The stimulants and nutrients given by enema are also
retained. At the evening dressing an increased quantity of
healthy-looking pus was discharged from the suppurating parotid. But
little rise in temperature or pulse has taken place since noon.
Pulse, 110; temperature, 99.7; respiration, 20.”
_The fifty-ninth day._—More than eight weeks had now elapsed since the
President was shot. The country had become used to alarms. It had also
learned to make allowance for the shortcomings of newspaper reports,
born of the heat of an oversanguine imagination. It had learned, too,
the more valuable lesson that the Government of the United States is not
to be shaken from its pedestal by the bullet of an assassin. Guiteau was
a fool. Perhaps the despicable wretch thought the course of events,
sweeping on like the planets, could be changed by the crack of a pistol.
He might as well have fired into the air. The glorious institutions of
the Republic will perish when Americans are no longer fit to be free;
but until then the assassin’s rage and frenzy is the most futile folly
of the world. All the officers of the United States may be murdered in a
day, but the Nation will stand immovable as adamant. Let the assassin
foam and gnash upon the iron bars of the cage of fate! It is only a
mad-dog gnawing his chain.
The President, they said, was better. Thoughtful men doubted it. As a
matter of fact, the judgment of the country had given him up to die.
Sentiment still kept him alive; reason said that the time of the fatal
foreclosure was near at hand. It could be said, truthfully, that the
local symptoms traceable to the abscess in the President’s face had
measurably abated. It could also be said that he was still able to
receive food enough to sustain life—nothing more. Mr. Blaine’s dispatch
for the evening was, however, rather hopeful than desponding. It said:
“DEPARTMENT OF STATE, August 29, 10:30 P. M.
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“At half-past ten to-night the general condition of the President is
favorable. Late in the afternoon his pulse rose to 112 and his
temperature to 100, both a little higher than the surgeons expected.
Pulse has now fallen to 108, and fever is subsiding. The parotid
swelling is steadily improving, and is at last diminishing in size.
Apprehensions of serious blood poisoning grow less every hour.
BLAINE, Secretary.”
These dispatches of the Secretary were generally but the pith of what
the surgeons said in their official reports. These, for August 29th,
were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President’s symptoms this morning are as favorable
as yesterday at the same hour. He slept, awakening at intervals, the
greater part of the night. At these intervals he took and retained
the liquid nourishment administered. His mind continues perfectly
clear. Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 17. 12:30 P.
M.—Nothing new has been observed in the condition of the wound. The
usual daily rise of temperature has not yet occurred, and the
general condition has not materially changed since morning. Pulse,
106; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 18. 6:30 P. M.—The daily rise
of the President’s temperature began later this afternoon than
yesterday, but rose eight-tenths of a degree higher. The frequency
of his pulse is now the same as at this hour yesterday. He has taken
willingly the liquid food prescribed during the day, and had,
besides, during the morning, a small piece of milk toast. At the
evening dressing a pretty free discharge of healthy pus took place
from the parotid swelling, which is perceptibly diminishing in size.
The wound manifests no material change. Pulse, 110; temperature,
100.5; respiration, 18.”
[Illustration: MORNING GREETING BY MRS. GARFIELD AND MOLLIE.]
_The sixtieth day._—The President still held out. All the world knows
the story, how, day after day, owing to the native robustness and
essential soundness of his constitution, he stood out against the death
that awaited. As usual there were some who said he was better. Others
said he was not. Once for all it may be said that such contradictions
regarding the President’s condition can easily be accounted for when the
surroundings of the White House are considered. Only a few persons knew
of their own observation how he appeared from day to day. Visitors were
strictly, and necessarily, excluded from the sick-room. From the Tuesday
after General Garfield was shot, not more than ten persons in all,
excluding the physicians, had seen him, and, of these ten, some only
once or twice. Mrs. Garfield and her children, Mr. Blaine, General D. G.
Swaim, Colonel A. F. Rockwell, Dr. Boynton, Dr. Susan Edson,—one of the
nurses,—the President’s private secretary, Mr. J. S. Brown, and Mr.
Pruden, completed the list. Mr. Blaine had seen him once, Mr. Pruden
once, and Mr. Brown had been in five times, being usually called because
the force of persons necessary to lift the President was a little short.
Indeed, of all the strange impressions to be got from this novel event,
there was none more peculiar than to stand in the private secretary’s
room in the second story of the White House, and feel that only a few
yards away was the sick-room on which the eyes of the world were
centered, and yet that not more than three persons besides the
physicians, nurses, and family, have passed the door in two months! It
can thus be easily seen how correspondents and reporters were generally
at sea, particularly when the physicians were reticent or out of sight.
Mr. Blaine continued to express all that could be reasonably said of
better prospects. His dispatch was as follows:
“_To_ LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President, if not rapidly advancing, is at least holding his
own. His fever is less than last night, and his swollen gland
steadily improves. His pulse continues rather high, running this
evening from 110 to 114. Perhaps the best indication in the case is,
that the President himself feels better, and his mind, being now
perfectly clear, he readily compares one day’s progress with
another.
BLAINE, Secretary.”
The regular bulletins of the day were fuller if not more explicit:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept the greater part of the night,
awakening at intervals, and retaining the liquid nourishment
administered. His general condition this morning is about the same
as at the same hour yesterday. Pulse, 102; temperature, 98.5;
respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—At the morning dressing another small
incision was made in the lower part of the swelling on the right
side of the President’s face, which was followed by a free discharge
of healthy-looking pus. A similar discharge took place through the
openings. The swelling is perceptibly smaller, and looks better. The
wound remains in an unchanged condition. Pulse, 116; temperature,
98.9; respiration, 18. 6:30 P. M.—The President has passed
comfortably through the day. He has taken the usual amount of
nourishment by the mouth, with stimulating enemata at stated
periods. Pulse, 109; temperature, 99.5; respiration, 18.”
_The sixty-first day._—In these stages of the President’s illness
neither the optimist nor the pessimist newspapers were to be trusted in
their accounts of the sick man and his surroundings. Even the dry
records of the surgeons’ reports were so many bones of contention among
the wranglers, some of whom would have the President well while others
would have him dead. The optimists on this last day of August head-lined
their reports: “On the high road to recovery;” “Still better;” “Almost
out of the woods,” etc.; while the pessimist said: “The valley and the
shadow;” “The end at hand,” etc. Unfortunately the pessimist—not from
any virtue in himself—was the truer prophet. It could not be denied,
however, that in some material points the President had improved with
some steadiness for several days. These favorable points, rather than
the dark ones, were dwelt on in the official reports, which presented
the summary of symptoms for the day:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a tranquil night, and this
morning his condition is quite as favorable as yesterday at the same
hour. Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—At
the dressing of the President this morning the parotid swelling was
found to be discharging freely. It looked well and has materially
diminished in size. The wound remains in about the same state. His
general condition is evidently more favorable than at this hour
yesterday. Pulse, 95; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 17. 6:30 P.
M.—The President has passed a better day than for some time past. He
has taken his food with increased relish, and the usual afternoon
rise of temperature did not occur. Pulse, 109; temperature, 98.6;
respiration, 18.”
_The sixty-second day._—The fall month dawned with little additional
news. The little that was presented was not good. The luxuriance of the
scribes who had written up and written down almost every circumstance
and symptom were about this time clipt of some of their superfluity. The
public had grown stern and angered at being trifled with on so grave a
matter as the condition of a dying President. A few manufactured
conversations were still published, but the amount of space so devoted
in the journals of the day showed a pronounced shrinkage. Mr. Blaine’s
dispatches, always honest and sincere, were more than hitherto sought
after as giving the hungry and heart-sore people the most authentic
information concerning their stricken Chief Magistrate. The Secretary’s
telegram for the evening was as follows:
“_To_ LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President continues to do well in his eating and digestion, and
the swollen gland steadily improves, but in the past twenty-four
hours he has made no substantial progress in his general condition.
In the judgment of his physicians, however, he still holds the
ground gained on Sunday and Monday last. His pulse and temperature
to-day have shown marked increase over the record of yesterday. The
weather has been exceedingly warm and sultry, and this may account
in part for the adverse changes noted. Even in the September climate
of Washington such an oppressive day as this has been is rare.
“BLAINE, Secretary.”
The views of the surgeons were presented as usual in their official
bulletins:
“8:30 A. M.—Toward nine o’clock last evening the President had some
feverishness, and his pulse ranged from 108 to 116. He had on the
whole a good night, and his condition is fully as favorable as
yesterday at the same hour. Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 17. 12:30 P. M.—At the morning dressing of the
President the abscess of the parotid was found to be discharging
freely. It looks well and continues to diminish in size. The state
of the wound remains the same. His general condition is not
materially different from what it was at this hour yesterday. Pulse,
108; temperature, 98; respiration, 18. 6:30 P. M.—The condition of
the President has not materially changed since the last bulletin,
except that there has been a moderate rise of temperature this
afternoon. The President has had no rigors for several weeks. Pulse,
108; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 18.”
_The sixty-third day._—It was said, in the dispatches of the morning,
that the President had still further improved, and that he was now
better than at any time since the setting in of the parotid
inflammation. Perhaps he was. There was no doubt that for some days he
had held his own. The question of the day, however, was the revival of
the project to remove the sufferer from Washington. This proposition had
been previously voted down in a consultation of the physicians and the
members of the cabinet. But since then things were changed. Doubtless
the surgeons were now convinced that, remaining where he was, the
President must inevitably die in a very short time. To this should also
be added the persistent entreaties of General Garfield himself, who
never forbore, on proper occasions, to urge upon those who were in
responsible charge of his case, his earnest wish to be taken away from
the scenes of his glory and grief. By the 2d of September it was
understood that the minds of the physicians were about made up to
attempt the hazardous enterprise. It was known also that the
Pennsylvania Railway had already prepared a special train with a view to
readiness in case the removal should be finally decided on. The train
even now stood in readiness.
A publication in the London _Lancet_, for the current week, was perused
with great interest by thousands of professional and unprofessional
readers. Some encouragement was gleaned from the excerpt, which was as
follows:
“We do not think the healing of President Garfield’s wound will be
promoted by probing to learn how far granulation has proceeded. The
most favorable signs are the fall of temperature to the normal, and
the frequency of the pulse. This is a thoroughly safe criterion of
increased strength and the subsidence of blood poisoning; and,
together with the improved power of digestion, ability to sleep
soundly, mental clearness and cheerfulness, affords solid grounds
for the hope of recovery.
“The case is a striking illustration of the power of a good
constitution to hold up against illness that would certainly have
killed a feebler person; but another failure in the President’s
digestive powers, or symptoms of blood poisoning, might at any time
turn the balance against him; and what we have hitherto insisted
upon so often we are bound to repeat, that President Garfield will
not be out of danger until the wound is healed.”
The usual bulletins, from the surgeons in charge, were published thus:
“8:30 A. M.—The President slept well during the night, and this
morning his condition is in all respects as favorable as yesterday
at the same hour. Pulse, 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 17.
12:30 P. M.—The President’s condition has not materially changed
since the morning bulletin was issued. Pulse, 108; temperature,
98.4; respiration, 18. 6:30 P. M.—The President has passed a
comfortable day, and this evening appears better than for some days
past. This evening his pulse is 104; temperature, 99.2; respiration,
18.”
_The sixty-fourth day._—The removal of the President was fully
determined on. The surgeons were unanimous that it should be undertaken.
Long Branch was settled upon as the resort to which the wounded man
should be removed. The physicians were unanimous in their selection of
this place, and all necessary precautions were taken to insure the
President’s comfort during his removal. It was a perilous business, and
for the remaining days of the sojourn at the White House the energies of
those who were responsible for the President’s well-being were
constantly engaged in making suitable arrangements for the removal. The
account of the President’s progress for the day, notwithstanding his
critical condition, was almost overlooked in the keen interest
immediately excited by the project now imminent. The surgeons themselves
were unusually brief in their official reports, which ran thus:
“8:30 A. M.—The President was somewhat more restless than usual
during the early part of the night, but slept better after one A. M.
There is a slight increase in the frequency of the pulse. Pulse,
104; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—The Presidents
condition has not materially changed since the morning bulletin was
issued. Pulse, 104; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 6:30 P.
M.—The President has done well during the day, and has taken with
some relish a sufficient quantity of nutriment. Altogether, his
general condition exhibits some improvement over yesterday. Pulse,
102; temperature, 99.6; respiration, 18.”
_The sixty-fifth day._—The President himself was somewhat excited about
his removal. In some respects this excitement was beneficial and in
others hurtful to him. His spirits and hopes were in some measure
aroused, and a stimulus thus afforded to his exhausted powers. But the
energy thus awakened was withdrawn from the long enfeebled stomach, and
twice during the day his food was rejected. Otherwise, there were no
alarming symptoms for the passing hour, and so public attention was
wholly turned to the preparation. President Roberts, of the Pennsylvania
Railroad, commissioned George C. Wilkins, general superintendent of the
Baltimore and Potomac Railroad, to take direction of the train which was
to carry the President away. Mr. Wilkins was also directed to issue
orders to his men, which would enable him to stop every freight and
passenger train that might be on the road between Baltimore and
Washington on half an hour’s notice, and to give the special train the
right of way at any hour of the day or night. On the 4th of September,
Mr. Wilkins accordingly issued orders to carry out the following
arrangement: When the day and hour of departure of the train is known,
he should be informed, and a message would be sent along the entire
road, stopping all freight trains that might be on the road. Passenger
conductors would at each station receive an order either to stop or
proceed to the next station, where the subsequent movements of their
trains must be governed by the orders there awaiting them. In this way,
which is, in fact, the “blocking” system in force on many roads, the
movements of all trains would be controlled from the Union Depot, and
they would be so handled as to give the special train the right of way
and at the same time prevent the “regulars” while in motion from passing
the special. This was done to prevent the President being disturbed by
any jarring or disagreeable noise.
No stops were to be made at any of the stations between Baltimore and
Washington; but should it be necessary to rest the nerves of the
patient, the special train was to be halted in the open country, where
fresh air and the absence of noise and crowds would be insured.
Immediately on hearing of the appointed hour, Mr. Wilkins was to leave
Baltimore for Washington in a special car, and come over to Baltimore
with the President’s train. This train was to be run around the city to
Bayview, where William Crawford was to take charge of it and convey it
to Philadelphia. His arrangements were like those of Mr. Wilkins. An
engine of the New York division of the Pennsylvania road, and two
Pullman palace cars, which were in part to compose the train, arrived at
Baltimore on the 4th, and became subject to the orders of Colonel
Wilkins whenever needed.
The reports of the surgeons contained about the only authentic account
of the President’s condition during the day. These were as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President vomited once last evening and once about
an hour after midnight. Notwithstanding this disturbance, he slept
well most of the night, and this morning has taken food by the mouth
without nausea, and has retained it. His pulse is somewhat more
frequent, but in other respects his condition is about the same as
at this hour yesterday. Pulse, 108; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
18. 12:30 P. M.—The President’s condition has not changed materially
since the last bulletin was issued, and there has been no further
gastric disturbance. Pulse, 106; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18.
6:30 P. M.—The President has passed a comfortable day. He has taken
his food with some relish, and had no return of the irritability of
stomach reported in the morning’s bulletin. The parotid swelling
continues to improve. The wound shows no material change. The rise
of temperature this afternoon has been very slight, but his pulse
was more frequent, and he showed more fatigue after the dressings.
Pulse, 110; temperature, 99; respiration, 18.”
_The sixty-sixth day._—It is the last day in Washington! Again the
President is almost forgotten in the hustle of preparation. Mr.
Francklyn, owner of one of the finest cottages at Elberon, Long Branch,
has tendered it as a home for the wounded Chief Magistrate, and Colonel
Rockwell has accepted the offer with thanks. So it is thither we are
going on the last of our earthly pilgrimages. Every thing is ready for
the departure, and it is set for to-morrow morning at six. A retinue of
strong men has been appointed to carry the President down stairs to a
wagon specially arranged to convey him to the depot. The day is hot; the
air like a furnace. Down at Elberon there is a weird scene to-night.
Three hundred skilled engineers and workmen—a loyal company of sturdy
patriots—are laying a temporary track to connect the main line with the
cottages on the beach. To perform this work laborers have been gathered
together; a supply of ties and rails lie waiting the strong hands that
are to fling them into place. The length of the new track is 3,200 feet.
It is to be laid directly to the hotel grounds, describing a curve to
the very door of Francklyn cottage, from whose windows we shall once
more look upon the sea. Crowds of men and women, gathered from the
various hotels, stand witnessing the scene. Anon the clouds gather.
Headlights are put in place to furnish illumination. At intervals the
workmen are served with refreshments from the Elberon. All night long
the work goes bravely on, and ere the dawn of morning the track is
completed over which the suffering President is to take his last journey
in the land of the living. And now, while the shadows steal across the
landscape in this sultry September evening, let us once more stand
before these now familiar bulletin boards and read:
[Illustration: LAYING A SPECIAL RAILROAD TRACK TO FRANCKLYN COTTAGE.]
“8:30 A. M.—The President was somewhat restless during the early
part of the night, but slept well after midnight. He has taken by
the mouth and retained the nutriment prescribed. This morning his
pulse is less frequent than yesterday. Pulse, 102; temperature,
99.5; respiration, 18. 12:30 P. M.—Pulse, 114; temperature, 99.5;
respiration, 18. 6:30 P. M.—No material change has taken place in
the condition of the President since morning. The parotid abscess
continues to improve, and the wound remains about the same. Pulse,
108; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 18. Should no untoward symptoms
prevent, it is hoped to move the President to Long Branch
to-morrow.”
And here is the faithful Mr. Blaine’s dispatch to Minister Lowell, in
London:
“_To_ LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“This has been the hottest day of the season, and the heat has told
upon the President. His pulse and temperature have been higher than
for several days past. In other respects there has been no special
change, either favorable or adverse. It is expected that he will be
removed to Long Branch to-morrow. It is hoped that the sea air will
strengthen him.
BLAINE, Secretary.”
Can the journey be made with safety? The morrow will tell the tale. Here
in the twilight of that last day in Washington, as the hum of
preparation settles to a calm, and as our eyes turn toward him whom we
have followed so long in his heroic struggle, doubting yet hoping, we
may well say with the London _Punch_:
So fit to die! With courage calm
Armed to confront the threatening dart.
Better than skill is such high heart
And helpfuller than healing balm.
So fit to live! With power cool
Equipped to fill his function great,
To crush the knaves who shame the State,
Place-seeking pests of honest rule.
Equal to either fate he’ll prove.
May Heaven’s high will incline the scale.
The way our prayers would fain avail
To weight it—to long life and love!
CHAPTER XIV.
GAZING ON THE SEA.
Despite the prayers and tears and earnest pleading,
And piteous protest o’er a hero’s fall,
Despite the hopeful signs our hearts misleading,
Death cometh after all!
Over the brightest scenes are clouds descending;
The flame soars highest ere its deepest fall;
The glorious day has all too swift an ending:
Night cometh after all!
O’er bloom or beauty now in our possession
Is seen the shadow of the funeral pall;
Though Love and Life make tearful intercession,
Death cometh after all!—_Harper’s Weekly._
The finger of hope pointed unmistakably in the direction of Long Branch,
and as the morning of September 6th dawned upon the White House, all
conditions appeared favorable for the removal of the beloved President
beyond the malarial influences of the Capital. Preparations for this
event were complete. The anxiety of the President to leave Washington
had been imparted to all his friends and attendants. Even the physicians
were convinced that nothing would bring relief to the sufferer so
effectively as the pure, bracing salt breezes of the Atlantic, and their
opinion increased the confidence and animated the hope of the country.
The condition of the President seemed peculiarly favorable for the
journey. He had eaten well on the previous day, and retained his food.
He had slept peacefully, and his wound was doing well. The parotid
swelling had almost disappeared, and the general conditions were thought
to be remarkably good. It was even said that a considerable increase of
strength was manifest in his movements, but this was evidently a
mistake. The excitement of the occasion for the time overcame his
weakness.
All necessary arrangements for the journey were completed on the 5th.
They were elaborate and well-developed. For the special railroad train
the plan detailed in the previous chapter was adopted and successfully
carried out. During the entire evening of the 5th, trunks, boxes, and a
great variety of packages, were sent from the White House to the depot
for shipment. Messengers were constantly arriving and departing, workmen
were busy in special labor connected with various devices for the
comfort of the President, and every thing indicated the eve of a great
event. The crowd around the bulletin-board, at the front gate, was
largely increased, and many held their positions there during the weary
watches of the whole night. Every passer-in or out, who was supposed to
have information regarding the wounded man, was eagerly besought to
impart it. In reply to a question, Colonel Corbin said to a reporter
that the trip could not hurt the President, “because,” he added, “he has
been traveling all day.” By this, Colonel Corbin meant that the
President had been talking and thinking all day about the trip. This
anxiety had characterized the President’s moods for some weeks, and it
was therefore believed that the realization of his long-cherished desire
would have a salutary effect upon his weakened system.
At a few minutes past five, on the morning of the 6th, several carriages
were grouped on the drive in front of the White House, and near the main
entrance stood an Adams Express wagon, of the largest size, covered, and
furnished with side and end curtains. It was near 6 o’clock when quite a
commotion became apparent in the Executive Mansion, and a moment later
the President, lying upon a stretcher, was borne carefully and slowly to
the express wagon, which had previously been connected with the stone
steps of the White House by a wooden platform. It was arranged to permit
the men to walk directly into the wagon, where they let the bed down
slowly until it rested firmly upon its supports. Then the immediate
attendants of the President ranged themselves around him, three on each
side. At the head of the bed, on the right, sat Dr. Boynton, next was
General Swaim, and at the foot was O. E. Rockwell. On the left were
Colonel Rockwell, Dr. Bliss, and Dr. Reyburn, the other physicians
having gone on before. The horses were attached, and at once the little
procession was in motion, led by Private Secretary Brown, in his buggy.
As the President’s van passed out through the gate, the eyes of the
invalid were closed, and that part of his face which could be seen
looked pinched and pallid with suffering. In his general contour, there
was something to suggest the face of Garfield to those who had known him
long and intimately; but the change was astounding to every one
unaccustomed to the daily observation of its progress. Perhaps it was
not the face of a dying man, but many observers thought it was. There
was something intensely pitiful and tear-compelling in the wasted
features, and quiet, passive manner of the Nation’s chief executive, and
he was thus driven away from his official home, with all the apparent
chances largely against his return.
The van was but fairly outside the gate when the horses were urged to a
lively walk, which occasionally increased to a slow trot, the
pedestrians meantime keeping well up on the pavements. Three policemen
walked on either side the wagon to keep the street clear; but there was
no attempt at crowding. There was no boisterousness; no unseemly haste
to be first; no loud talking. All passion was hushed. The agony of the
great soul now going forth to find health for its encasement, subdued
and quieted every thing within range of its influence. At one point the
President recognized an acquaintance on the street, and slowly lifting
his hand, waved a feeble salutation and farewell. At precisely six
o’clock this sad procession drove alongside the car, specially fitted up
for the martyred Chief Magistrate, the horses were detached, and twenty
strong and willing hands backed the wagon to the opening in the car.
Then the attendants lifted the stretcher and entered the car with its
precious burden. The President was carefully adjusted upon his new bed,
the foundation of which was a mattress of extraordinary thickness, and
so constructed that the motion of the train could not be felt, a few
farewells were said, and then the train moved slowly and smoothly away.
Away, with fond hearts full of hope, but soon to be surcharged with
dismay and grief!
This seven hours’ journey of 233 miles is now historical, and its
principal features are full of interest. The train came to a stop in a
few minutes after leaving the Washington dépôt, to permit an approaching
train to move out of the way on a siding. “What does this mean?”
inquired the President. “Only a momentary detention,” replied Colonel
Rockwell. “But important events are ofttimes the issue of a moment,”
rejoined the sufferer. This is the only conversation he joined in during
the trip. The train soon proceeded, gradually increasing its speed where
the track was straight enough to permit, to fifty-five miles an hour,
and for a few miles after leaving Philadelphia, it actually attained a
speed of sixty miles an hour. The President was watched very closely
during the first hour of the journey, in order to detect any symptom of
danger from the excitement of the occasion. To the relief and great
satisfaction of the physicians, he seemed actually to enjoy the ride and
to be improving. His pulse, which reached 118 early in the morning, fell
to 110 and then to 108. He did not talk. His voice was too feeble to
make his words distinguishable amid the noise of the running train,
without too much effort. He occasionally inquired the hour, and once or
twice desired to know the names of stopping places. Beef-tea was the
sole nutriment given him during the journey, and on two occasions he
relished it like a hungry man.
At every one of the forty-six cities and towns and villages, through
which the train passed, great crowds thronged the streets. They stood
silently, with uncovered heads and eyes wet with tears. The grief of the
people was too deep for other demonstration. Words could not express it,
and weeping came unbidden. Strong men, rough men, weak men and
cultivated men; women of all grades and classes, and even little
children, joined in their silent anguish with each other and the world,
and poured their lamentation from streaming eyes. In many places, crowds
of workingmen left their mills and forges as the train approached, and,
ranging themselves alongside the track in an orderly line, stood with
hats in hands and heads bowed till it passed beyond range of their
vision. Then they solemnly returned to their vocations. There was a
feeling of awe beyond expression in the mind of every spectator, and to
some extent it entered every thinking mind in the land. Life and death
were in fierce conflict upon that lightning train, and the madness of
its speed looked like an effort to distance the subtle foe of mortality;
but it was only in appearance. Death had long before marked our noble
President for his own, with the bullet of the assassin. More than sixty
days before the date which identifies this chapter with current history,
he was as surely slain at Washington as was Richard III. at Bosworth, in
1485. Such was, in large measure, the feeling of the people. The dark
foreboding of calamity began to overshadow them when the foul work of
Guiteau’s pistol was flashed over the land on that fatal second of July,
and now their hearts were sick with the President’s wounds. They felt
with him the pain, and, without his hopefulness, saw the beloved head of
the Nation approaching the last dread extremity, with faith undimmed and
bravery undaunted.
It was a time for weeping and anguish and silence. And a time for
thought. For severe self-examination. For national inquiry. A time to
find out for what new crime atonement is required, in such measure as
impoverishes all that is noble, and all that is above reproach in our
poor world! Do we ever explore the logic of crime until forced to the
task? And the lesson of Lincoln’s martyrdom—how was that learned? Had it
been remembered, would there have been occasion for this later sacrifice
upon the altar of political acrimony?
The lightning train sped onward. A pilot engine preceded it, and its
passage was a signal to all approaching trains to get out of the way and
remain silent until the convoy had passed. Trains upon side-tracks,
wherever they were encountered, were crowded with people, all desirous
of obtaining a glimpse of the President, but not obtrusive nor
demonstrative beyond the overwhelming influence of great sorrow. Their
silence was more expressive than language. It indicated the deepest
sympathy, the profoundest respect, the heartiest love. On three or four
occasions the poor sufferer waved his hand feebly to the people, but the
effort was painful. The journey was devoid of incident beyond what has
been related. The train arrived at Elberon at three minutes past 1
o’clock, and the transfer of the President from the car to his quarters
at Francklyn Cottage was promptly made, without trouble or disturbance.
His room had been elegantly prepared for his occupancy, and it was made
pleasant with many beautiful bouquets and rare plants sent by personal
friends. The physicians pronounced the arrangements perfect, and could
suggest no improvement. They stated that the journey had done the
patient no harm, although in the official bulletin, issued at 6:30 P. M.
on the day of arrival at Long Branch, they announced his pulse at 124;
temperature, 101.6; respiration, 18,—a condition not calculated to
reassure the country.
Prayers had been offered during the day in thousands of churches, and by
millions of people in their homes and places of business, for the
restoration of the President. Faith in the efficacy of prayer seemed to
be almost universal, and it is thought that thousands upon thousands of
people who had never prayed before, made Garfield the object of their
supplications at the throne of God. At a concert of prayer held at the
Thirteenth Street Presbyterian Church in New York City, which was
largely attended by Christians of all denominations, the following
extract from a letter written by the President’s pastor in Washington,
Rev. Frederick D. Power, was read:
“His life is before the world, a living epistle, to be known and
read of all men. To you I may say he has had the ever-present
Comforter, the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, during all
these weary days and nights of suffering. He remembers the Lord’s
day when it comes; on Sunday morning last, as he opened his eyes to
its holy light, he said: ‘This is the Lord’s day; I have great
reverence for it.’ He takes great comfort in prayer. Knowing that my
little church was continuing daily in prayer to God for him, he
said: ‘The dear little church on Vermont Avenue! They have been
carrying me as a great burden so long, but when I get up they shall
have no cause to regret it.’
“Of his own peril of death he has been mindful, and over and over
again has said: ‘I must be prepared for either.’ This has been the
principle of his life, ruling in all his experience, as he explained
it to me: ‘When I meet the duties of each day as best I can, I
cheerfully await whatever result may come.’ When he was first
stricken he declared: ‘I believe in God, and trust myself in his
hands,’ and there he is, my brethren, and God will keep him, and God
will glorify His own great name, whether it be in his life or his
death. I could say many things, but my heart and hands are both too
full. He is better to-day, but still on the borderland. We are all
still besieging the mercy-seat, and we expect God’s answer with
great anxiety, but not, I trust, without great faith and submission.
“In conclusion, I may say in the words of President Garfield to me,
in a season of like distress—the death of his little son: ‘In the
hope of the Gospel, which is so precious in this affliction,’ I am
affectionately your brother in Christ.”
The subjoined copies of dispatches are selected from several hundred of
a similar tenor, as indicative of the general solicitude:
EXECUTIVE CHAMBER, ALBANY, Sept. 6, 1881.
For the purpose of enabling the people to unite with those of other
States in petitioning the Ruler of the Universe for the restoration
to health of the President of the United States, the 8th day of
September, instant, I hereby set apart and designate as a day of
fasting and prayer. It is recommended that all ordinary avocations
be suspended, and the people, in their usual places of worship,
humbly acknowledge their faults and reverently supplicate the mercy
of the Heavenly Father that the national peril, which now appears so
imminent, may be averted. Let the prayers of all be united for the
early and complete recovery of the President’s health and strength.
May the blessing of Almighty God rest upon the stricken sufferer and
the afflicted family.
Given under my hand and seal at the Capitol in the City of Albany,
this 6th day of September, in the year of our Lord one thousand
eight hundred and eighty-one.
ALONZO B. CORNELL.
By the Governor—HENRY E. ABELL.
The meeting for prayer in behalf of the President was largely
attended. From twenty to twenty-five prayers were offered by
clergymen and laymen, which were remarkable for their earnestness
and importunity. The bulletins announcing the departure of the
President from the White House and the progress of the train were
read at the opening and close of the meeting.
PHILADELPHIA, Sept. 6.—In accordance with the proclamation of the
Governor, the churches of the city were generally thrown open,
between the hours of 10 and 12 this morning, for worship for the
recovery of President Garfield. At Harrisburg business was entirely
suspended from 10 o’clock until noon. Services were held in the
churches and in various industrial establishments. The dispatches
relative to the President’s journey were read from a number of
pulpits. In most other places in the State services were held and
business was suspended during the hours named.
CINCINNATI, Sept. 6.—The proclamation of Governor Foster was
observed by meetings for prayer in the Christian churches, and a
union meeting was also held in the First Presbyterian Church from 10
to 12 o’clock. The public schools were dismissed. The Mayor’s office
and all the Government offices were closed, and deep interest was
felt in regard to the result of the President’s journey from
Washington to Long Branch. At the Republican County Convention
prayer was offered by Dr. Kumler, who made a most fervent petition
for the recovery of the President. After the prayer, on motion, the
convention gave three cheers for the President. The convention also
adopted a resolution condemning the attempted assassination, and
extending sympathy to Mrs. Garfield.
COLUMBUS, OHIO, Sept. 6.—Religious services were held in several of
the churches here from 10 to 12 o’clock to-day, and many prayers
were offered for the recovery of the President. The bulletin-boards
were eagerly watched by anxious crowds, and each dispatch telling of
the favorable progress in the Presidential journey from Washington
to Long Branch was joyfully discussed. The feeling that the
President will recover seems to permeate all classes, and nothing
but hopeful expressions were heard to-day.
CHICAGO, Sept. 6.—The church services and union meetings to-day for
the purpose of invoking Divine aid for the President’s restoration
to health, were well attended and fervently participated in.
Business was generally suspended in the public offices, business
boards, etc. The announcement of the easy trip of the President to
Long Branch and his improved condition, is the subject of great
rejoicing to thousands who eagerly inquire for accounts of his
progress.
ATLANTA, GA., Sept. 6.—In response to the Governor’s proclamation,
the Hall of Representatives here was filled to-day with the members
of the General Assembly and citizens, to offer up prayers for the
recovery of President Garfield. Religious services were held, and
addresses and prayers were made by leading ministers of the city.
WILMINGTON, N. C., Sept. 6.—To-day was very generally observed here
as one of prayer for the recovery of the President. Services were
held in all the churches in accordance with the proclamation of the
Governor, and between 10 and 12 o’clock, the hours devoted to
religious services, business was almost entirely suspended. A
feature of the day which attracted some attention was the fact that
nearly all the bar-rooms were closed.
RALEIGH, N. C., Sept. 6.—In accordance with the Governor’s
proclamation, to-day was generally observed here as a day of prayer
for the President. Federal and State buildings and offices of
manufacturers, etc., were closed. Impressive services were held at
the churches.
AUGUSTA, GA., Sept. 6.—The day of prayer was very generally observed
here. The Mayor issued a proclamation, and all the public offices,
banks and many stores were closed. Services were held in the
churches, and prayers offered for the restoration of the President
to health. Some pastors mentioned that the wounding of the President
had the effect of cementing the sections together as one people.
SAN FRANCISCO, Sept. 6.—A special service of prayer for the recovery
of the President was held this morning in the hall of the Young
Men’s Christian Association. The Ministerial Union was present in a
body. Every seat in the hall was occupied, and crowds were forced to
stand.
INDIANAPOLIS, Sept. 6.—Religious services were held, in obedience to
the Governor’s proclamation, in a number of the leading churches
to-day, and prayers were offered in behalf of the President. Many of
the business houses were closed from 10 to 12 o’clock.
CLEVELAND, O., Sept. 6.—Business was generally suspended throughout
Northern Ohio between 10 o’clock and noon to-day, while people of
all denominations gathered in their houses of worship, in town and
country, and joined in prayer for the restoration of President
Garfield to health.
_The sixty-eighth day._—On the following day, the 7th of September,
there was still no positive change in the President’s condition. The
early morning dispatches announced: “He is no worse than when he left
Washington, neither is he any better.”
Such a statement was, of course, quite unsatisfactory to the country,
because, the people argued, “no better” always means “worse.” There is
no neutral ground in a case of this kind. The morning bulletin found the
pulse at 106; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. In the evening the
pulse was 108; temperature, 101; respiration, 18. The day was very warm,
the thermometer ranging from 90° to 100°, and the people were remarkably
anxious over the reports of the physicians. When it was learned that
after the issue of the evening bulletin, the pulse ran up to 114, there
was wide-spread apprehension. The gentle sea-breezes, from which so much
was expected, were not doing their appointed work. For most of the day
there was a dead calm of the atmosphere at Long Branch, and the
temperature was described as almost unbearable by people in health. To
the sufferer it was wonderfully oppressive, and there were apprehensions
that, unless change of temperature in an abatement of the furnace-like
heat soon came, there would be reason to conclude that the journey of
Tuesday was in vain. Every body complained but the President. He proved
himself the most patient of invalids, and but once during the entire day
made a remark which indicated any thing like discontent with the
situation. Opening his eyes from a short nap, he turned them toward the
windows and said to an attendant, who was fanning him: “Oh, those
windows are so small.” For a few moments he breathed laboriously, and
his pulse increased to a high rate, and the reaction caused unusual
weakness.
Throughout the day the bulletin-boards at the various newspaper offices,
and places of public resort in every part of the country, were besieged
by large crowds of anxious men and women of every grade in the social
scale, eager for the smallest scrap of information to sustain the
earnest prayer of their hearts—that the revered President was now upon
the sure course of recovery; but all the facts reported by the
physicians pointed to a calamitous result. Only their comments were
encouraging, and whatever of encouragement they conveyed was not
accepted by the mind of science. It was seen that the President’s
bravery had imparted a strange degree of assurance to his immediate
attendants, whose reports were unconsciously colored by the mental force
rather than the physical condition of the sufferer; and thus at least
nine-tenths of his fellow-countrymen were buoyed up with hopes which had
no foundation beyond the tenacity of a gigantic will.
_The sixty-ninth day._—So wonderful was the exercise of the President’s
mental force that on Thursday two of his medical attendants announced
his convalescence! Surgeon-General Barnes, Surgeon J. J. Woodward and
Dr. Robert Reyburn had been relieved from duty at Garfield’s bedside on
the previous day, at the wish of the President, as he expressed it, “to
relieve them of labor and responsibility which, in his improved
condition, he could no longer properly impose upon them.” Drs. Bliss and
Hamilton remained in their professional capacity, and Dr. Boynton, Mrs.
Garfield’s physician, in the capacity of nurse. Between nine and ten
o’clock, on the morning of the eighth, a newspaper correspondent said to
Dr. Bliss:
“Doctor, you seem to be feeling pretty well this morning.”
“I should think I was; why, the man is convalescent; his pulse is
now down to ninety-six.”
This announcement was astounding, but as the correspondent was
endeavoring to settle in his own mind whether the doctor was not a
little delirious himself, as a result of long watching and continued
nervous tension, he turned to some persons who approached, and was
soon asserting to them with emphasis, “This is convalescence.” The
good news traveled with marvelous speed. “Dr. Bliss says the
President is convalescent,” was soon on every lip, but was received
with incredulity.
“We had better wait awhile before we toss up our hats,” was the
comment of a member of the Cabinet.
As the day wore on, confirmation from every trustworthy source was
obtained of the good tidings from the sick-room. Before noon Dr.
Bliss and Dr. Hamilton appeared together on the veranda, and Dr.
Bliss repeated his belief that the President was convalescent. “That
is good news,” said a gentleman to Dr. Hamilton. “Yes,” was the
reply, “and it is true.” Dr. Boynton came out of the President’s
cottage about noon and strolled toward the edge of the bluff, with
his hands behind him and with a far-away look in his eyes, which
were turned to the east, whence the rising breeze was coming and the
increasing weaves were rolling up on the beach at his feet.
“Doctor, this is a fortunate change.”
“Yes; the President is better.”
“You are, of course, hopeful, as all the rest are?”
“Yes, the change is not enough to base any medical statement of
improvement upon, but what there is is in the right direction.”
Colonel Rockwell was more emphatic. “Dr. Bliss says the President is
convalescent. What do you think?” asked a correspondent.
“Yes,” said the Colonel, “Dr. Bliss thinks so. The doctor said to
the President this morning, in my presence: ‘Mr. President, you are
convalescent; you are getting out of the woods.’ He is certainly
doing very well and we shall have him propped up before many days.
We have sent to-day for his reclining chair. It is one of those
chairs which you can make any thing of, from an upright chair to a
bed, and is softly cushioned. With a few days more of improvement,
we will have him up where we can roll him to the windows.”
“And out upon the lawn, too, I presume, after a time?”
“Well, perhaps.”
“And you will, doubtless, take him to Mentor before many weeks?”
“Yes, probably he wants to get home, but he enjoys this place very
well. We turned him on his side this morning, so that he could look
out over the ocean, and he was very much pleased. He longed to get
here. Two or three days before we started, I remember a queer remark
he made. I said to him, ‘Mr. President, how would you like to have
us put you on the Tallapoosa and get you down to the salt water?’
‘That would be temporary, tentative and unsettled,’ he said; ‘put me
on the cars and take me to Long Branch.’”
“Does he read the papers?”
“No; but he could. Yesterday I read to him a number of dispatches we
had just received. Here is one of them now.” The Colonel drew from
his pocket a telegram, which he read as follows:
“PITTSFIELD, MASS., September 7.
“_To President_ GARFIELD, _Long Branch_:
“The Garfield and Arthur Club, of Pittsfield, and people of the
town, without regard to party lines, in Berkshire County, to
whose hospitalities you were coming when so brutally assailed,
and where thousands of Berkshire hearts were waiting to welcome
you, all unite in congratulations on your safe arrival at the
sea-shore. All hope for your speedy recovery, and to-day the
shire town suspends business to meet and ask the Great Healer to
be with you and make efficacious the efforts of your earthly
physicians.
OFFICERS AND MEMBERS
of the Garfield and Arthur Club, and many others.”
“The President,” continued Colonel Rockwell, “was greatly pleased by
the kind expressions in the telegram, and bade me telegraph his
thanks.”
Dr. Hamilton, in conversation with Dr. Pancoast, spoke very
encouragingly of the prospects, saying, in effect, that he had the
strongest hopes of recovery. Celebrations and thanksgivings to signalize
the joy of the people, were freely discussed. The apparent change for
the better caused a rebound in popular sentiment, which was quite
disproportioned to its cause. Alas! it had no foundation whatever.
At 8:30 in the morning the President’s pulse indicated 104; temperature,
98.7; respiration, 18. At 6:30, evening, pulse 100; temperature, 99.1;
respiration, 18. Dr. Bliss declared most emphatically that the favorable
symptoms would continue. At 10:30 P. M. Secretary Blaine cabled this
hopeful message:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President’s rest was much broken during the first half of last
night, but to-day his condition has been more favorable. He had less
fever this afternoon than for several days past; has better pulse
and improved appetite. His surgeons are much encouraged. His comfort
has been promoted by a decided change in the weather. Thermometer at
this hour (10:30) 75° Fahrenheit; yesterday it was 95°.”
In many of the States, in response to the proclamations of their
Governors, the people gathered at their places of worship and offered
prayer for the recovery of the Chief Magistrate. In many cities business
was almost wholly suspended for this service, and there was hearty
supplication every-where for the Divine blessing upon the languishing
President. Faith in prayer seemed to have become universal, and
certainly the sentiments which accompanied this faith are an honor to
humanity and a solace to the world.
_The seventieth day._—September 9th was regarded as “a favorable day,”
and the rapid convalescence of the President was confidently announced.
The cool atmosphere seemed to invigorate him, and his appetite was fair.
The physicians announced a decided improvement, but the morning bulletin
did not create a sanguine feeling in non-professional minds, and the
more cautious were scarcely satisfied with the symptoms, but preferred
to await further developments before resting in the belief that the
favorable change would not be interrupted by some unforeseen
complication. Naturally, the immediate attendants upon the President
exhibited a more decided opinion that the improvement was likely to be
permanent, than did persons not so intimately connected with the case.
Assurance from those having access to the patient’s room, that he was
much better than before leaving Washington, was very generally and
gratefully accepted.
At 8:30 A. M. his pulse was 100; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 17. At
noon there was scarcely a notable change. At 6 P. M., pulse, 100;
temperature, 98.8; respiration, 18. At 10 P. M. Secretary Blaine cabled
the subjoined dispatch:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The medical reports are all favorable to-day—morning, noon, and
night. The President has not for many weeks done so well for so many
consecutive hours. He has had very little fever; his respiration has
been normal, and his pulse has not exceeded 100. He slept without
opiates, and gained strength without stimulants. His nights are not
so restful as could be desired; but in the twenty-four hours he gets
sufficient sleep. The weather, though not excessively warm,
continues sultry and oppressive. Much is hoped from the clear,
bracing air which may be expected here at this season.”
On the same evening, Attorney-General MacVeagh expressed his views in
these words: “At present everything looks favorable, and of course we
hope that what has been gained will be maintained and added to, but the
difficulty is, the President’s blood is in an unhealthy condition, and
until he recuperates sufficiently to overcome any bad effects of
blood-poisoning, it is not safe to be sanguine.” He thought,
furthermore, that the President would convalesce in ten days. This was
the 9th of September. Of course he could not foresee the 19th, and we
must not anticipate that memorable date.
_The seventy-first day._—Saturday, September 10th, was ushered in with
favorable omens. It was pronounced “a satisfactory day” by Dr. Bliss. He
expressed the opinion that the wound was healing from the bottom. The
temperature was one degree higher than on the previous day, and this was
the only change noted in the bulletins. But there was an undercurrent of
apprehension more significant than any thing which appeared in print.
The people had learned from an unofficial and unauthoritative source
that the President was worse, and that blood-poisoning had shown itself
in very alarming symptoms. Unfortunately, this information was true. At
8:30 A. M. the pulse was 104; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 18. At
noon, pulse, 100; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. At 5:30 P. M.,
pulse, 100; temperature, 98.7; respiration, 18. Secretary Blaine cabled
as follows, at 10 P. M.:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“After dispatch of last night the President had considerable
increase of fever. Indeed, a rise of pulse and temperature every
night has become a significant feature in his case. Through the day,
and especially this afternoon, he has grown more comfortable. A cold
easterly storm has prevailed since early morning without evil effect
thus far on his condition. Secretary Windom had a brief interview
with the President at noon. He found him much reduced in strength,
but clear in his mind. He asked the Secretary about the success of
the refunding of the public debt.”
_The seventy-second day._—A day of anxiety. The President was
unmistakably worse. It was ascertained that a portion of the matter
discharged from the mouth was not pus from the parotid gland, as had
been supposed, but pus from a badly diseased lung. The situation was
regarded as critical, and especially so when the patient’s cough
returned with considerable violence. At 8:30 P. M. his pulse was 104;
temperature, 98.8; respiration, 19. At noon, pulse, 110; temperature,
100; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P. M., pulse, 110; temperature, 100.6;
respiration, 20. The increase in respiration was attributed to the
affection of the lungs. At 10:30 P. M. Secretary Blaine cabled the
following report:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President had an increase of fever last night and was very
restless until 5 o’clock A. M. During the day he has been somewhat
better, but his pulse, temperature, and respiration have been higher
for the entire twenty-four hours than on any preceding day since he
reached Long Branch. His other symptoms are not reassuring, and his
general condition gives rise to anxiety.”
_The seventy-third day._—Monday was pronounced “favorable.” A decided
improvement in the President’s symptoms was reported by the attending
physicians, who pronounced the anxiety of the previous day “a senseless
panic.” The lung difficulty was spoken of as of little importance now
that it was understood, except by Dr. Boynton, who contended very
strongly that it was an effect of blood-poisoning. Yet he thought the
President’s vitality sufficient to overcome any serious results from it,
provided no further complication of a similar nature occurred. At 8:30
A. M. his pulse was 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. At noon,
pulse, 106; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P. M., pulse,
100; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 18. At 2:30 P. M. the following
message was cabled by Secretary Blaine:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President slept well last night, and his condition to-day is
more comfortable and more favorable. During my absence for a short
time Dr. Agnew or Dr. Hamilton will send you a daily report.”
At 10 P. M. Attorney-General MacVeagh sent, by cable, the following
dispatch:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“In the absence of Mr. Blaine, the attending physicians have
requested me to inform you of the President’s condition. He has
during the day eaten sufficient food with relish, and has enjoyed at
intervals refreshing sleep. His wound and the incisions made by the
surgeons all look better. The parotid gland has ceased suppuration,
and may be considered as substantially well. He has exhibited more
than his usual cheerfulness of spirits. His temperature and
respiration are now normal, and his pulse is less frequent and
firmer than at the same hour last evening. Notwithstanding these
favorable symptoms, the condition of the lower part of the right
lung will continue to be a source of anxiety for some days to come.”
_The seventy-fourth day._—Tuesday, September 13th, was for the most part
uneventful, except that at 11 A. M. he was placed in a semi-recumbent
position upon an easy chair, in which position he remained half an hour
without fatigue or discomfort. In reply to a question by Dr. Bliss,
President Garfield said he experienced no pain and did not even feel
tired. At 8:30 A. M. the pulse was 100; temperature, 99.4; respiration,
20. At noon, pulse, 100; temperature, 98.8; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P.
M. pulse, 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 20. A favorable report
was cabled by Attorney-General MacVeagh to Minister Lowell.
_The seventy-fifth day._—“Still gaining slowly,” was the morning report.
It was announced that the patient suffered from a septic infection of
the blood, but this was not believed to be very serious. Dr. Boynton was
the only physician who expressed much anxiety about it, and his views
were invariably soothed by the belief that the President’s robust
constitution would eventually conquer all his physical complications. At
8:30 A. M. the pulse was 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. At
noon, pulse 104; temperature, 98.8; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P. M.,
pulse 112; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 21. The bulletins looked
sufficiently unfavorable, but the physicians viewed them with
complaisance. Dr. Boynton, however, informed a reporter that the pulse
frequently reached 120, but this fact was kept from the family and the
public. At 10 o’clock Attorney-General MacVeagh reported as follows:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“There is an increase this evening in the President’s temperature,
pulse, and respiration; but it is so slight as not necessarily to
indicate that the condition of the blood is producing any new
complications. The trouble in the right lung is not increasing, and
is causing him less annoyance. He has taken adequate nourishment,
and his sleep has been natural and refreshing; so that, if he has
gained nothing, he has probably lost nothing during the day.”
_The seventy-sixth day._—“Slight progress toward recovery” was reported.
The surgeons concluded not to admit that the septic condition of the
patient’s blood amounted to pyæmia, and they expressed confidence that
the difficulty would be overcome. The President took food in variety,
but not with a strong appetite. In the early morning hours he was quite
wakeful, and gave way to fits of despondency. In one of these he called
aloud to an attendant: “Save me; don’t let me sink.” Words of
encouragement were uttered, but for a time he could not bring himself to
believe that he yet had hope of recovery. “I fear bringing me here will
prove but a roaring farce after all,” said he. He was not readily
reassured, and the incident was not regarded as favorable. Still the
physicians and newspaper correspondents sent out fair reports to the
country, and the people were therefore quite unprepared for the events
so near at hand. At 8:30 A. M. the pulse was 100; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 20. At noon, pulse 102; temperature, 98.9; respiration, 21.
At 5:30 P. M., pulse 104; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 21.
Attorney-General MacVeagh reported to Minister Lowell that all the
symptoms were substantially the same as on the previous day, except that
the expectoration from the right lung was rather less difficult and less
profuse.
_The seventy-seventh day._—A day of “unfavorable symptoms.” Great
anxiety was experienced by the immediate friends of the honored
sufferer, and the physicians acknowledged the gravity of the occasion.
His physical weakness had never before been so apparent, and his utter
exhaustion seemed ominous of the end. Those who had never before
questioned his ability to rally, now began to doubt it; and, when it was
found that the pulse frequently reached 130 beats, intelligent men and
women were struck with wonder at the persistent vitality of the man. At
8:30 A. M. the pulse was 104; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 21. At
noon, pulse 116; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 21. At 5:30 P. M.,
pulse 104; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 22. Attorney-General MacVeagh
cabled as follows:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“There has been no very marked change in the President’s condition,
but it is not at this hour reassuring. The different symptoms are
almost all slightly aggravated. The temperature and the pulse have
fluctuated more than usual, and the respiration is rather more
frequent, while the character of the discharges continues to be
unsatisfactory. There is, therefore, a sensible increase of
anxiety.”
_The seventy-eighth day._—“A day of deep anxiety.” The President was
worse. He was sinking beyond reach of the strong arm of science and the
willing hands of love, never to be reclaimed by earthly agencies. A
chill, continuing half an hour, was followed by perspiration and a rapid
rise of temperature. The situation was alarming, although the immediate
effects of the chill did not appear as serious as might have been
expected,—for the pulse fell, in a few hours, from 120 to 102, the
temperature from 102 to 98, and the respiration from 24 to 18. These
were phenomenal changes. Yet the word “rigor,” as translated in the
medical vocabulary, is invested with nameless terrors, and the condition
of the patient was assumed, on all sides, to be precarious in the
extreme. The attending physicians were startled, but they did not fail
to predict another rally, and a decided improvement in a few days. They
did not seem to realize that the crisis was upon them, and the country
certainly did not. The Attorney-General cabled to Minister Lowell that
“the situation is now probably more grave and critical than at any time
heretofore.”
_The seventy-ninth day._—Sunday was marked by an increase of fear and
anxiety. Another chill, but of shorter duration, was one of the untoward
incidents of the day. Dr. Bliss declared that the frequent recurrence of
chills would soon wear out the President’s life, but he hoped to devise
some means to prevent them. During this last attack the President’s
pulse reached 134, possibly 140. Dr. Boynton had some clear ideas
regarding the case. On Sunday night he said:
“The President’s condition to-day, compared with yesterday, shows a
slight improvement.”
“Do you not think the low pulse and temperature of last night and
this morning were favorable indications?”
“I do not. The low pulse and temperature, the sound sleep, and the
freedom from cough and expectoration were indications of a very low
state of vitality, and can not be considered as favorable symptoms.
If he grows stronger, there will be a rise in the pulse and
temperature, and his cough and expectoration will return.”
“Is it true that you stated last night that the President’s
condition was hopeless?”
“No, sir. I said his case was extremely critical, but not hopeless.”
“What is your opinion to-night?”
“The same as last night. For several weeks he has at times made
satisfactory progress, but, in each instance, the improvement has
been followed by a relapse, which left him on a lower plane of
vitality than before. This feature of his case is peculiar to most
cases of chronic pyæmia. The President has a wonderful constitution,
but it is doubtful if it is sufficient to carry him on to recovery.”
This conversation is interesting from the fact that it shows the very
correct logic of one of the President’s most intimate attendants only
twenty-four hours preceding the final catastrophe. Dr. Bliss was
slightly more confident than Dr. Boynton. No points are given from the
physicians’ bulletins, for the reason that it was thought best on Sunday
to suppress some of the more unfavorable indications, and the bulletins
are therefore not history. At 10 P. M., Attorney-General MacVeagh cabled
the following:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“The President passed a comparatively quiet and comfortable day, but
this evening he had another chill of less duration than that of
yesterday, but sufficient to increase the very great anxiety already
existing. He has also been slowly growing weaker, and his present
condition excites the gravest apprehensions.”
_The last day._—Monday, September 19, brought the final eclipse of hope.
It is not easy to describe it in these pages in such way as will do full
justice to the subject for the American people; because, _first_, its
facts are so incredible as to appear quite outside the range of history;
and, _second_, the people, the great masses, can not yet understand how
their beloved President could be so foully murdered without the swift
annihilation of the murderer. The human mind does not always remember
that the methods of justice must be quite distinct and wholly dissimilar
from those of crime, and that the cause of law and order is promoted by
this distinction. And possibly it will never be taught to remember this
lesson invariably.
Upon this fateful Monday morning, the President was prostrated by a
severe chill, called “rigor” by the physicians. It proved to be
weakening beyond precedent. During its continuance, the pulse ran up to
143, and for a long time remained above 140. It decreased gradually in
the afternoon, and when it was found that there was no recurrence of the
chill in the evening, the promise of a restful night was thought to be
good. The physicians were not agreed as to the responsible cause of the
patient’s crisis. Dr. Boynton lost his hopeful tone early in the day,
but Dr. Bliss remained comparatively sanguine till the last moment. No
one immediately connected with the case anticipated the death of the
sufferer, however, for several days yet, and it was remarked that even
Mrs. Garfield, although greatly fatigued, was by no means despondent.
She could not realize that death was even then robbing her of her
heart’s dearest treasure.
[Illustration: CHART SHOWING THE PULSE, TEMPERATURE, AND RESPIRATION OF
PRESIDENT GARFIELD, THROUGHOUT HIS ILLNESS.]
[Illustration: GENERAL D. G. SWAIM.]
The President rested quietly during the afternoon, and it was found that
he had rallied from the effect of the chill in a manner to surprise the
physicians. His mind was bright, the dressing of the wound did not
fatigue him, and after it was over he asked for a hand-glass, taking
which he examined his face and said he could not understand how he
should be so weak when he looked so bright. This was at 6 P. M. Dr.
Bliss remarked, that after such a rallying there was hope, but the
trouble was want of strength. After the closest examination, the
surgeons said it was possible for the patient to live a week, even
granting that present conditions were to carry him off. Drs. Bliss,
Agnew, and Hamilton, all concurred in this view, and it was sent out to
the country in the dispatches of the associated press. Although such a
message was designed to be pacifying, people every-where were startled.
It was a virtual concession that all hope of recovery had been
abandoned, and that the clouds of death were already lowering. But there
was something infinitely more startling to come shortly.
At 10 P. M., while the President was asleep, General Swaim noticed that
his limbs were cold. To warm them, he procured a flannel cloth, heated
it at the fire and laid it over the knees. He heated another cloth and
laid it over the President’s right hand, and then sat down beside the
bed. The sad occurrences of the night are thus related in General
Swaim’s words:
“I was hardly seated when Dr. Boynton came in and felt the
President’s pulse. I asked him how it seemed to him. He replied: ‘It
is not as strong as it was this afternoon, but very good.’ I said:
‘He seems to be doing well.’ ‘Yes,’ he answered, and passed out. He
was not in the room more than two minutes.
“Shortly after this the President awoke. As he turned his head on
awakening, I arose and took hold of his hand. I was on the left hand
side of the bed as he lay. I remarked: ‘You have had a nice
comfortable sleep.’
“He then said, ‘O Swaim, this terrible pain,’ placing his right hand
on his breast about over the region of the heart. I asked him if I
could do any thing for him. He said, ‘Some water.’ I went to the
other side of the room and poured about an ounce and a half of
Poland water into a glass and gave it to him to drink. He took the
glass in his hand, I raising his head as usual, and drank the water
very naturally. I then handed the glass to the colored man, Daniel,
who came in during the time I was getting the water. Afterward I
took a napkin and wiped his forehead, as he usually perspired on
awaking. He then said, ‘O Swaim, this terrible pain—press your hand
on it.’ I laid my hand on his chest. He then threw both hands up to
the sides and about on a line with his head, and exclaimed: ‘O
Swaim, can’t you stop this?’ And again, ‘O Swaim!’
“I then saw him looking at me with a staring expression. I asked him
if he was suffering much pain. Receiving no answer, I repeated the
question, with like result. I then concluded that he was either
dying or was having a severe spasm, and called to Daniel, who was at
the door, to tell Dr. Bliss and Mrs. Garfield to come immediately,
and glanced at the small clock hanging on the chandelier nearly over
the foot of his bed and saw that it was ten minutes past 10 o’clock.
Dr. Bliss came in within two or three minutes. I told Daniel to
bring the light. A lighted candle habitually sat behind a screen
near the door. When the light shone full on the President’s face I
saw that he was dying. When Dr. Bliss came in a moment after, I
said: ‘Doctor, have you any stimulants? he seems to be dying.’ He
took hold of the President’s wrist, as if feeling for his pulse, and
said: ‘Yes, he is dying.’ I then said to Daniel: ‘Run and arouse the
house.’ At that moment Colonel Rockwell came in, when Dr. Bliss
said: ‘Let us rub his limbs,’ which we did. In a very few moments
Mrs. Garfield came in, and said: ‘What does this mean?’ and a moment
after exclaimed: ‘Oh, why am I made to suffer this cruel wrong?’ At
10:30 P. M. the sacrifice was complete. He breathed his last calmly
and peaceably.”
The great President was dead! It could not be realized at the moment,
and yet within the ten minutes succeeding his demise the bells in a
hundred cities were tolling his solemn knell. Long before the morning
light of the 20th illumined the earth, the hearts of millions throughout
the world were heavy with the tidings.
Dead! whispered the wires with lightning haste. Dead! clanged the bells,
with their brazen tongues. Dead! was echoed around the world, from lip
to lip, until the mournful chorus resounded in a wail of heart-piercing
agony. Dead! dead! dead! exclaimed all the people. But not so. Garfield
will live forever in the better thoughts of those who loved him, and who
are made better for having loved him. The brave heart, the open hand,
the great soul, generous and true—these will bless the world for
evermore! Garfield is deathless.
“No man was better prepared for death,” remarked a prominent member of
his Cabinet. “No, sir, nor for life, which requires infinitely superior
preparation,” may be safely responded. The life which he lived required
the practice of all the virtues; the crucifixion of all the vices;
bravery of the severest type; gentleness, trust, and clear-cut
integrity. Practice had perfected in him these rules of life, and for
many years he had furnished an example of purity and probity for his
fellow-men. This is not taken away with the removal of the body. It can
not be taken away. The pages of history will be brightened with it as
long as eminent worth remains the goal of human ambition.
His removal has chastened and sweetened the national life. The hearts of
all men, from every party, have been drawn together in a common
brotherhood, and the country to a man denounces and resents “the deep
damnation of his taking off.” Every difference is annihilated in the
presence of the universal bereavement. His death forced a cry of grief
from the pained heart of every man and woman in christendom who loves
good deeds, and reveres the example of an honest life: who admires the
power to withstand trial, to bear suffering, and to confront danger; who
reveres those that possess the courage of their convictions, however
resisted by menace and scorn. No mourning was ever before so universal,
so heartfelt, so spontaneous, so lasting. Every consideration of
business, of pleasure, of political preferment, of social enjoyment, of
speculation, of whatsoever men and women were engaged in, gave way at
once to the general lamentation. These things were most observable in
our own land, but in some measure they prevailed in every civilized
country, and extended even to the isles of the sea. His had been a
precious life to his own people for many years. It has become precious
to all the world’s millions now, and will remain so through all the
ages.
He proved himself a hero many times and on many trying occasions before
his eighty days of heroic endurance of the assassin’s stroke; but never
was there a brighter example of Christian fortitude and uncompromising
submission than that furnished by him during those eighty days. And
never was there any thing more heroic and queenly than the devotion of
his noble wife from the beginning to the close of this eventful period.
Where is there a grander picture of womanhood than Mrs. Garfield? The
history of neither ancient nor modern times furnishes its superior. What
was position to her, with its pride and circumstance, when placed in the
balance with love and duty? Elevation to the place of the most envied
woman in the land—the leader of society at the National Capital—she
practiced that grand simplicity which made her the fit companion for the
eminently practical and busy President while in health, and, when
overtaken by his great calamity, nursed him day and night with unceasing
devotion. What example could be more admirable than this for the women
of the present age? Well may great queens acknowledge this true woman
their peer, and treat her as a sister.
For the two weeks at Long Branch, and probably for other weeks at
Washington, he was kept alive by the indomitable power of his own will
and the gentle care of those who loved him better than life. The “little
woman” to whom he sent his love before the first shock of his wound had
subsided, was the prominent object in his heart of hearts, and well has
she proved her title to the place she occupied there. Well did she
remember her vow to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health,
till death. With what faithfulness, with what untiring devotion and
pathetic zeal was that vow kept; and how holy must be the associations
which now cluster around every act and every aspiration of the womanly
faith and love which animated the noble wife in her hour of trial.
History furnishes no more prominent example of devoted affection,
forgetfulness of self, sacrifice of all comfort, carelessness of every
thing except the poor sufferer upon the bed of pain. He was her only
object in life. And to him, she was the bright star of destiny, the
ever-present angel of hope, the trusty sentinel upon the ramparts of
eternity, who menaced and kept at bay the arch-enemy, death. Her faith
and hope and love were the medicaments which sustained him through all
those weary days, when the services of physicians became as naught in
the process of healing. No one could perform for him the tender offices
of nursing so well as she; no voice so sweet as hers; no hand so gentle
nor so ready to anticipate his wants. In those other years, when they
toiled together for the mental, moral, and material advancement of
themselves and their children, and knew little of the gay world, he
learned this; and now, when they had reached the summit of the loftiest
earthly ambition, and she, by right as well as courtesy, was
acknowledged the first lady in the land, he still found her the same
faithful nurse, with the old devotion to her wifely duty which makes the
true woman an angel of mercy, and of more worth in the chamber of
sickness than any physician. She never left him in all those weary days
of pain, and she it was who, on many occasions, brought him back to
consciousness and life by tender care, when it seemed to others that the
slender thread which bound him to earth was too weak longer to hold.
[Illustration: THE LAST LOOK AT THE SEA.]
Her loving devotion under these conditions was the subject of daily
encomiums; and even the medical attendants were unanimous in according
her the first praise for attentions which were more important to the
patient than any they could render. Without her soothing ministrations,
it is thought the life of the President would have been much abridged;
and when it is remembered that this toil was constant, day by day,
without intermission, except a few hours for sleep, wholly
self-abnegating, and to the exclusion of all thoughts for her own health
or comfort, she may well be cited as one of the noblest examples of true
wifehood in any age or country. The ancients were filled with admiration
at the devotion of Penelope to Ulysses. How weak and tame is the example
when compared with that which now causes American womanhood to be so
lovingly reverenced!
That is indeed a sorrowful picture where the President, from his room at
Elberon, takes his last view of the sea. Those calm eyes surveyed the
mighty waters, whose lashings are regular as the movement of the
pendulum, with sensations which will never be known, for he was wholly
absorbed in meditation. Once or twice he turned to the faithful wife
with a smile upon his attenuated features, but nothing referring to the
scene or the situation was said by either. With his hand locked in hers,
they communed in spirit, conscious of the presence of God in His works
and in His mercy. The anxiety of the people for the great President was
not shared by himself, except as his sympathies were now, as always,
with the people; but who shall describe the agony of the poor wife as
she noted the weakness, daily increasing, of the noble form upon which,
for so many joyous years, she had leaned for support? Who shall depict
her anguish as she now realized that the sea breezes, which had brought
so much health for others, could bring none to her languishing husband?
Whatever may have been the hopes of the country, there were no hopes of
recovery in this sick chamber now,—only prayers, and possibly something
like a dream of a miracle—yearned for, but impossible. What picture can
be more saddening, or convey a deeper meaning in its illustration of a
holy presence in the chamber of pain, than that individualized by the
wife of the President!
The name of Lucretia Garfield will remain linked indissolubly with that
of the great soul whose love she honored, so long as wifely heroism is
honored of man. In his youth, in the days of his poverty, she made him
rich with the countless wealth of her woman’s love. She pointed the way
to a great future. To her careful management and sound advice is much of
his early success to be attributed. Standing beside him at the
coronation of his ambition, in the hour of his glory, she looked upon
him with a pride beyond language, as, under such conditions, what wife
would not; but in the dark days, which measured the period from July 2d
to September 20th, and ended so deplorably to her and the country, it
was a wifely love, destitute of all vainglory, with which, in full view
of Christendom, she ministered, as only angels do, to the wounded form
of her dying husband. No picture could be more pathetic, more
instructive, more valuable as an example to all women of this day and
coming ages; and it will be so remembered. Garfield’s struggle for a
life that had become historic for its manly courage, was brave indeed;
but with the history of that struggle there must forever be associated
the imperishable name of a wife as great as he in all that makes
greatness worth living or dying for in the eyes of men. “Man is the
image and glory of God, but the woman is the glory of the man.”
Now the land was covered with a pall. The insignia of mourning greeted
the eye everywhere. It was the spontaneous expression of the people,
without premeditation or system. Concert of action in a matter where
every one moved upon the instant was not feasible; but it was as if the
President were lying dead in every habitation. Prompted by a sentiment
which defies analysis, but which sprang from that wearisome vigil at his
bedside; from those long weeks of testing his pulse, listening to his
breathings, and wondering at his courage; from hope deferred, gloom,
despair, death—it agitated the depths of universal humanity, and
impelled a response to the holiest dictates of every heart.
Notwithstanding the all-pervading grief, the demonstration was wonderful
and without a parallel. Quite as wonderful for its universality as for
any of its physical conformations. A poor widow, in a Western city,
draped her doorway with her one black dress. She had no other means of
joining in the general expression of grief. Doubtless many other widows
did the same thing for exactly the same reason. Others, who had not even
a decent dress, hung out a single yard of black muslin, or a less
quantity of crape. The poor made as emphatic expression of their grief
as the wealthy, and the humblest offering of honest poverty invariably
carried to the heart of the observer a deeper pathos than the ornate
decorations with which the rich man symboled his lamentation. This is
not said in a spirit of criticism, but to record a fact which is a part
of this history, and which teaches a lesson germane to its object.
Not in this country alone were these things prominent, but they were
part of the mourning of every land that regards the usages of
civilization; and wherever there is recognition of mental and moral
worth, there was heartfelt grief at the death of Garfield. The world
missed him. He occupied a place of great responsibility, which no one
could be better fitted for. His administration gave promise of good
results. He was anxious to do good for the sake of good, rather than for
popularity. He was resolved to do right regardless of those who might
stand in his path. He did every thing in his power that he believed to
be right. He opposed, with all his might, every thing he believed to be
wrong. He was a just man and forgiving, with no hooks upon which to hang
grudges. He was a Christian statesman—the highest type of a chief
executive. How much the country lost in his death will never be
computed. It is beyond estimate. It is more than any one has yet
attempted to figure out. The sum of such a man’s value is quite beyond
the reach of mathematics. It can not be measured; therefore grief for
his loss is illimitable.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SOLEMN PAGEANT.
There he lies dead beside the moaning sea!
The days of watching and the nights of pain,
The burning flush, the keen anxiety,
The ebb and flow of hope, the blinding rain
Of bitter tears that came and came again,—
All, all are ended! O’er the sighing deep
Floats on the solemn air a sad, low strain,
A mournful dirge that seems to sob and weep!
O Nation, take your dead and lay him down to sleep!
The President was dead. The curtain had fallen at last between an
anxious people and the first citizen of the Republic. It only remained
for fifty millions of freemen to take him up with tender hands and bear
him away to the narrow house prepared for all living. It was a sad duty
which the Nation was not likely to neglect or leave to others to
perform.
In the preparations made for the President’s funeral there was neither
passion nor excitement. When Cæsar fell there was an uproar. The benches
of the Senate House were torn up by the maddened populace to make a pyre
for the burning of the dead Imperator’s body. We have improved upon all
that. The temperate spirit and self-restraint of the American people
promise well for the perpetuity of the Republic. However much cause
there may be for anger and alarm, it is not likely that our institutions
will ever be endangered by an outburst of popular fury.
The shutters of Francklyn cottage were closed. The sun’s face wore a
coppery tint as he came up from the sea to look on the scene of death.
The wind, which had blown stormily for a week, fell to a calm. A
September haze filled the air and sky, and an indescribable quiet
settled over the long, low shores of Jersey. With the rising of the sun
a single craft far out at sea, floating, as it seemed, on nothing, broke
the line of the horizon.
At the cottage the silence of death prevailed. At a little distance, on
all sides, armed sentinels, with fixed bayonets, paced their beats,
guardians of the border line between now and hereafter, beyond which the
living might not pass. The flag, which, since the arrival of the
President at Elberon, had been floating from a pole thrust out of an
upper window of the cottage, was draped with black; but beyond this
somber signal no outward sign of mourning was apparent. The first comers
were the journalists; but in their demeanor the customary eagerness of
competition was no longer apparent. Fifty millions of people would,
before night, read the truths which these reporters had come to gather,
but their subject of inquiry was now death rather than life; and their
demeanor was calm and respectful in that shadowy presence.
At half-past 10, Secretaries Windom, Kirkwood, and Hunt and
Postmaster-General James arrived at Elberon, and were invited at once to
the Attorney-General’s cottage, situated about as far to the north-east
of the hotel as the Francklyn cottage, in which the body of the
President lay, is to the south-east. There they remained during the
forenoon discussing the details of the events which had just transpired,
in which they were all so deeply interested. A half hour later General
Grant, with his son and a friend, drove up and spent an hour in
gathering information of the last hours of President Garfield.
Meanwhile, the undertaker and his assistants had arrived and were
preparing the body of the President for embalming and burial. The body
showed the loss of flesh to a degree painful to look upon. Only the face
preserved any thing like the appearance of the living Garfield. The
beard, in a measure, contributed to this, serving to conceal the
hollowness of the wasted cheeks. The body was laid upon rubber cloths
placed upon the floor to await the autopsy, which was to take place in
the afternoon.
[Illustration: CHESTER A. ARTHUR.]
In the afternoon President Arthur arrived at Elberon. He had already
taken the oath of office in New York City, and had then come immediately
to Long Branch to tender condolence to the friends of the dead and to
confer with the Cabinet. The question under consideration was the
arrangement of a programme for the funeral of the President. After the
conference, the following plan for the funeral services was ordered by
the Cabinet, and was given for the information of the public by
Secretary Blaine:
“ELBERON, N. J., September 20, 1881.
“The remains of the late President of the United States will be
removed to Washington by special train on Wednesday, September 21,
leaving Elberon at 10 a. m., and reaching Washington at 4 P. M.
Detachments from the United States Army and from the marines of the
Navy will be in attendance on arrival at Washington to perform
escort duty. The remains will lie in state in the rotunda of the
Capitol on Thursday and Friday, and will be guarded by deputations
from the Executive Departments and by officers of the Senate and
House of Representatives.
“Religious ceremonies will be observed in the rotunda at 3 o’clock
on Friday afternoon. At 5 o’clock the remains will be transferred to
the funeral car and be removed to Cleveland, Ohio, via the
Pennsylvania Railroad, arriving there Saturday at 2 P. M. In
Cleveland the remains will lie in state until Monday at 2 P. M., and
be then interred in Lakeview Cemetery. No ceremonies are expected in
the cities and towns along the route of the funeral train beyond the
tolling of bells. Detailed arrangements for final sepulture are
committed to the municipal authorities of Cleveland, under the
direction of the Executive of the State of Ohio.
“JAMES G. BLAINE, Secretary of State.”
Meanwhile, on the afternoon of the 20th, a post-mortem examination of
the President’s body was made with a view of clearing up the many
uncertainties which existed concerning the nature of the wound and the
secondary causes of death. The autopsy lasted for about three and a half
hours, and was conducted by the attending and consulting surgeons,
assisted by Dr. D. S. Lamb, Assistant Surgeon of the Medical Museum at
Washington, and Dr. A. H. Smith, of New York. The revelations made by
the examination were of an astonishing sort, chiefly so as it respected
the diagnosis of the President’s injury, which was found to have been
utterly at variance with the facts. At 11 o’clock P. M. an official
bulletin—last of many—was prepared by the surgeons, setting forth the
results of the autopsy, as follows:
“ELBERON, NEW JERSEY, September 20, 1881.
“By previous arrangement, a post-mortem examination of the body of
President Garfield was made this afternoon in the presence and with
the assistance of Drs. Hamilton, Agnew, Bliss, Barnes, Woodward,
Reyburn, Andrew H. Smith, of Elberon, and Acting Assistant Surgeon
D. S. Lamb, of the Army Medical Museum of Washington. The operation
was performed by Dr. Lamb. It was found that the ball, after
fracturing the right eleventh rib, had passed through the spinal
column in front of the spinal cord, fracturing the body of the first
lumbar vertebra, driven a number of small fragments of bone into the
adjacent soft parts, and lodging below the pancreas, about two
inches and a half to the left of the spine, and behind the
peritoneum, where it had become completely encysted.
“The immediate cause of death was secondary hemorrhage from one of
the mesenteric arteries adjoining the track of the ball, the blood
rupturing the peritoneum, and nearly a pint escaping into the
abdominal cavity. This hemorrhage is believed to have been the cause
of the severe pain in the lower part of the chest complained of just
before death. An abscess cavity, six inches by four in dimensions,
was found in the vicinity of the gall bladder, between the liver and
the transverse colon, which were strongly adherent. It did not
involve the substance of the liver, and no communication was found
between it and the wound.
“A long suppurating channel extended from the external wound,
between the loin muscles and the right kidney, almost to the right
groin. This channel, now known to be due to the burrowing of pus
from the wound, was supposed during life to have been the track of
the ball.
“On an examination of the organs of the chest, evidences of severe
bronchitis were found on both sides, with broncho-pneumonia of the
lower portion of the right lung, and, though to a much less extent,
of the left. The lungs contained no abscesses, and the heart no
clots. The liver was enlarged and fatty, but not from abscesses. Nor
were any found in any other organ except the left kidney, which
contained near its surface a small abscess about one-third of an
inch in diameter.
“In reviewing the history of the case in connection with the
autopsy, it is quite evident that the different suppurating
surfaces, and especially the fractured, spongy tissue of the
vertebra, furnish a sufficient explanation of the septic condition
which existed.”
During the first day after the President’s death several incidents
occurred worthy of note. Among others, came two dispatches from
Cleveland, whose people were profoundly touched by the death of their
friend. The first was from a committee of the city council, and said:
CLEVELAND, OHIO, September 20, 1881.
_Mrs._ J. A. GARFIELD, _Elberon, New Jersey_:
In behalf of the trustees, we tender you ground in Lakeview Cemetery
for the burial of our lamented President, such as you or your
friends may select.
(Signed by Executive Committee.)
This was supplemented by the following dispatch sent by the Mayor of
Cleveland:
_Mrs._ JAMES A. GARFIELD, _Long Branch, N. J._:
The people of this city, who have borne such love and honor to your
husband, most earnestly and sincerely desire that his grave may be
made here among us. Allow me, dear madam, to add to this publicly
expressed desire of our citizens my own personal and official
concurrence.
R. R. HERRICK, Mayor.
These cordial offers, concurring with Mrs. Garfield’s own wishes and the
express desire of her dead husband, determined the choice of the spot
where his body was to be laid to rest.
Another incident was the breaking of the news to the aged mother at
home. Early in the morning a message came to Mrs. Larabee, sister of the
President, who lives at Solon, Ohio, and with whom the poor old mother
was for the time residing. The dispatch said:
_To Mrs._ ELIZA GARFIELD:
James died this evening at 10:35. He calmly breathed his life away.
D. G. SWAIM.
For awhile the dreadful intelligence was held back from the faithful
heart that had sheltered James A. Garfield in his childhood. At length,
after breakfast, she sought, as usual, the daily telegram from her son.
Finding the dispatch, she was about to read, when her granddaughter took
the message from her trembling hands.
“Grandma,” she said, “would you be surprised to hear bad news this
morning?”
“Why, I don’t know,” said the old lady.
“Well, I should not,” said Mrs. Larabee, “I have been fearing and
expecting it all the morning.”
“Grandma,” said Ellen Larabee, “there is sad news.”
“Is he dead?” asked the old lady, tremulously.
“He is.”
The quick tears started in the sensitive eyes. There was no violent
paroxysm of grief. No expression of frenzy told of the anguish within.
“Is it true?” she asked, with quivering lips. “Then the Lord help me,
for if he is dead what shall I do?”
It was the bitterest of all the outcries of sorrowing human nature—the
anguish of a mother’s breaking heart. The morning of the 21st of
September broke calmly from the sea. Every thing was in readiness for
the departure. For a brief period in the morning the people of Elberon
were permitted to view the face of the dead. The coffin rested upon
supports draped in black. There were few decorations. Upon the top were
two black palm leaves. Some white flowers and a hanging basket of ferns
with some branches of cycas leaves, emblematic of heroism, completed the
decorations.
At half-past nine a brief funeral service was pronounced over the dead
by Rev. Charles J. Young, of Long Branch, and then preparations were
made for the immediate departure of the sad cortege on its sorrowful
journey.
The train which was to bear away the President’s remains was backed up
to the cottage on the track that had been so magically laid over the
lawns on the night before he was brought to Long Branch. It consisted of
an engine and four cars, which were all heavily and tastefully draped in
mourning. Almost all the woodwork on the sides of the cars was covered
with crape, only the number of the car being left exposed. The front car
was for the baggage. The next was specially arranged for the coffin. In
the center of this was a large catafalque for the casket to rest upon.
It was covered with crape arranged in graceful folds. It rested upon a
raised platform also draped in mourning and surrounded at the bottom by
flags. The sides and top of the car were entirely covered with black
cloth. Cane chairs were provided for the military guard of honor which
occupied the car with the coffin. The third car was a combination one
for members of the Cabinet. It was also draped in mourning inside and
out. The last car was the private car of President Roberts, of the
Pennsylvania Railroad. It was reserved for Mrs. Garfield and family, and
was the same car in which she came to Long Branch on the 6th of
September. This car was also tastefully draped in black.
Promptly at 10 o’clock the train moved slowly away toward the Elberon
station. At this time there were two or three thousand persons lining
the track, and the roadway was crowded with carriages for half a mile.
Men stood with uncovered heads watching the train as it disappeared from
view.
[Illustration: MISS MOLLIE GARFIELD.]
It was expected that President Arthur would arrive at Attorney-General
MacVeagh’s house in the morning, and with the Cabinet visit the house
where President Garfield lay dead. The mixed crowd of city and country
people who had gathered from many miles thought they would witness the
closing scenes of the dead President’s career and at the same time catch
a glimpse of his successor. The arrangements were subsequently changed,
however. President Arthur decided to take a special train from Jersey
City and meet the funeral procession at the Elberon station.
Without further delay the funeral train moved slowly along the track
which had been laid across the fields specially to convey President
Garfield to his new home by the sea. Nearly every hat was removed from
the heads of the observers when the train approached. It moved along the
left-hand track until the last car was parallel with the rear car of the
special train from Jersey City, which stood on the right-hand track.
President Arthur and the rest of the party then stepped into the car
where the Cabinet were seated. After greeting the persons in the car,
the President seated himself behind Secretary Blaine, and the two
engaged in conversation. General Grant took a seat immediately behind
President Arthur, when he was soon joined by Chief-Justice Waite. The
engine which drew the train from the Francklyn cottage drew the train
only to the main road. Engineer Paige and Fireman Gwinnell, who had
charge of the engine when President Garfield was removed from
Washington, were waiting with the same engine on a side track. Deep
folds of mourning hung from the engineer’s box and pieces of crape
covered the brass and other portions of the engine. Paige, who has
always felt great pride in the successful removal from Washington,
backed his engine on the main track and coupled it to the car which
contained the coffin. At twelve minutes past 10 o’clock, the conductor
told Paige that all was ready. A few puffs was the only noise made, and
the funeral train moved quietly away.
At the various points en route there were tokens of the deepest popular
sorrow. At Ocean Grove, the railroad for half a mile on both sides was
lined with people. On the platform of the dépôt were from 4,000 to 5,000
men and women. As the train passed the men stood with uncovered heads,
absolutely silent. The bells tolled, and then the crowd dispersed. Flags
were at half-mast, and the buildings were draped in black.
There was a brief stop at Monmouth Junction, and at Princeton, where the
students from the College of New Jersey were gathered to catch a glimpse
of the passing train. They stood five hundred strong along the track,
which had been strewed with flowers by the people. At Trenton, which was
passed just before noon, an immense crowd of people had assembled. Every
man took off his hat, and the women bowed their heads as the train went
by. Many persons were affected to tears.
At 12:50 P. M. the cortege reached Grand Ferry Junction, opposite
Philadelphia, where a great crowd, standing in silence, caught a glimpse
of the casket containing the remains of the dead President. At
Wilmington, fully ten thousand people were assembled. The bells of the
city hall, court-house, and fire-engine houses were tolled while the
train was passing through the city. At Baltimore there was no stop.
Several thousand persons were gathered about the dépôt, who uncovered as
the train passed, preserving the most respectful silence. Only three or
four persons on the train were visible and recognized, the curtains of
the cars being closed.
[Illustration: 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:
“QUEEN VICTORIA, TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE PRESIDENT GARFIELD. AN
EXPRESSION OF HER SORROW AND SYMPATHY WITH MRS. GARFIELD AND THE
AMERICAN NATION.”
“SEPTEMBER 22, 1881.”
The interior of the rotunda was hung in black, though not so heavily as
to produce a marked effect. In all other respects this portion of the
Capitol was of the usual appearance.
After passing the catafalque, most of the visitors left the building by
the west staircase and departed; but many mounted to the dome and viewed
the crowds assembled at the east front from that point of vantage. All
day the streets were thronged with people. The street-cars, which had
been appropriately draped, were filled to overflowing both to and from
the Capitol, and all the conveyances in the city were brought into
requisition. The trains brought many visitors from all parts of the
nation to the city; and many country people from Maryland and Virginia
took advantage of the pageant to visit the city.
During the afternoon there were some indications that the decomposition
of the body had set in; and, it being understood that in such event it
was the wish of Mrs. Garfield that the features of her husband should be
shut out from the public gaze, the lid of the casket was closed, by
order of Secretary Blaine, at about 6:30 in the evening.
[Illustration: JAMES A. GARFIELD.]
Thus, with the evening twilight, the face of James A. Garfield, which,
for so many years, had shone with a great radiance among the people, was
shut forever from the sight of men.
The morning of the 23d of September witnessed a renewal of the scene of
the day before. At half-past eleven all the doors and avenues of
approach were closed in order that Mrs. Garfield might go in and remain
for a few minutes alone with her dead. What passed behind those silent
curtains belongs not to curious history, peering ever with sleepless
eyes into the secrets of life and death, but only to the stricken woman
who went in alone to her honored dead.
After this affecting episode the procession was renewed for a season,
and then preparations were made for the observance of the formal
ceremonies of the day. At two o’clock the services began. Appropriate
passages of Scripture were read by Rev. Dr. Rankin, and this was
followed with a touching prayer by Elder Isaac Errett, of Cincinnati. As
the closing words of the invocation died away, the Rev. F. D. Powers, of
the Vermont Avenue Christian Church, of which President Garfield was a
member, delivered a feeling address. He spoke in a clear voice, and was
distinctly heard in every portion of the hall:
“The cloud so long pending over the Nation has at last burst upon
our heads. We sit half-crushed amid the ruin it has brought. A
million million prayers and hopes and tears, as far as human wisdom
sees, were vain. Our loved one has passed from us. But there is
relief. We look away from the body. We forget, for a time, the
things that are seen. We remember with joy his faith in the Son of
God, whose gospel he sometimes himself preached, and which he always
truly loved. And we see light and blue sky through the cloud
structure, and beauty instead of ruin,—glory, honor, immortality,
spiritual and eternal life in the place of decay and death. The
chief glory of this man, as we think of him now, was his
discipleship in the school of Christ. His attainments as scholar and
statesman will be the theme of our orators and historians; and they
must be worthy men to speak his praise worthily. But it is as a
Christian that we love to think of him now. It was this which made
his life to man an invaluable boon, his death to us an unspeakable
loss, his eternity to himself an inheritance incorruptible,
undefiled, and that fadeth not away.
“He was no sectarian. His religion was as broad as the religion of
Christ. He was a simple Christian, bound by no sectarian ties, and
wholly in fellowship with all pure spirits. He was a Christologist
rather than a theologist. He had great reverence for the family
relations. His example as son, husband, and father, is a glory to
this Nation. He had a most kindly nature. His power over human
hearts was deep and strong. He won men to him. He had no enemies.
The hand that struck him was not the hand of his enemy, but the
enemy of the position, the enemy of the country, the enemy of God.
He sought to do right, manward and Godward.
“He was a grander man than we know. He wrought, even in his pain, a
better work for the Nation than we can now estimate. He fell at the
height of his achievements, not from any fault of his; but we may,
in some sense, reverently apply to him the words spoken of his dear
Lord: ‘He was wounded for our transgressions; he was bruised for our
iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him.’ As the
nations remember the Macedonian as Alexander the Great and the
Grecian as Aristides the Just, may not the son of America be known
as Garfield the Good?
“Our President rests; he had joy in the glory of work, and he loved
to talk of the leisure that did not come to him. Now he has it. This
is the day, precious because of the service it rendered. He is a
freed spirit; absent from the body, he is present with the Lord. On
the heights whence came his help he finds repose. What rest has been
his for these four days! The brave spirit which cried in his body:
‘I am tired,’ is where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary
are at rest. The patient soul which groaned under the burden of the
suffering flesh: ‘O, this pain,’ is now in a world without pain.
Spring comes, the flowers bloom, the buds put forth, the birds sing.
Autumn rolls round, the birds have long since hushed their voices,
the flowers have faded and fallen away; the forest foliage assumes a
sickly, dying hue:—so earthly things pass away, and what is true
remains with God.
“The pageant moves; the splendor of arms and the banners glitter in
the sunlight; the music of instruments and of oratory swells upon
the air; the cheers and praises of men resound. But the spring and
summer pass by, and the autumn sees a Nation of sad eyes and heavy
hearts, and what is true remains of God. ‘The Eternal God is our
refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.’”
At the close of the address another prayer was offered by Rev. J. G.
Butler. As the last words of the service died away a beautiful rainbow
appeared upon a bank of clouds in the east, and while this arch of
promise rested calmly against the background of black, the casket was
taken up by the pall-bearers and borne away to the hearse. The funeral
train was already in waiting at the dépôt of the Pennsylvania Railway,
and every thing was in readiness for the departure. The streets were
lined with people, and no visible sign of grief was lacking to testify
the sorrow of the people for the dead, and their sympathy for the
living. The Marine Band played a solemn dirge, and at sixteen minutes
past five o’clock the train started for Cleveland.
The journey from Washington to the west was made without remarkable
incident. Crowds, large beyond all precedent, awaited the passage of the
train at every point. In Baltimore, which was reached before dark, the
whole city had apparently turned out to see the draped coaches go by. As
the train reached the outer edge of the waiting throng, Mrs. Garfield
was seated in her car looking out of the window. Knowing her disposition
to shrink from publicity, one of her companions arose to put down the
shade. But she asked that it be allowed to remain open, saying that she
was glad to see the crowds which had assembled to do honor to her
husband.
All on the funeral train retired early and remained in bed until they
arrived in Pittsburgh. In the night, however, those awake saw everywhere
the crowds which were in waiting. At Altoona a weird scene impressed
itself upon the minds of those who saw it. The place was passed in the
middle hours of the night. The darkness was made visible by large
numbers of pine torches held by workingmen stationed at intervals along
the streets. At East Liverpool the members of a Post of the Grand Army
of the Republic awaited the passage of the train. At another place the
track was strewn with flowers. At Pittsburgh, which was reached a little
after six o’clock, the whole town was astir, and the train made its way
between dense and silent masses of humanity. In the morning all on the
train called on Mrs. Garfield to pay their respects. She had borne the
fatigue of the night and the long journey quite well.
At nearly every station along the route, bells were heard tolling as the
train passed, and at one or two places dirges were played by brass
bands. It was noticed by the passengers that the women in the crowds
through which the train passed were weeping. Very good time was made as
far as Pittsburgh, but at that point a dispatch was received from
Cleveland asking the railroad authorities to delay the train an hour or
two, as the citizens had not yet completed their arrangements for the
reception. On this account the speed was decreased, and the train did
not arrive at Cleveland until 1:15 in the afternoon.
The ceremony of reception at the latter city was simple, and every thing
was decorously done. Long before the train was expected the people of
the town, in carriages, street cars, and on foot, made their way toward
the station. Military and civic organizations were already on the spot,
and although there was some inevitable bustle, every thing was in place
when the train arrived. As the draped engine drew near, every head was
uncovered. When the train stopped, the citizens’ committee of reception,
which had met the cortege as it passed into Ohio, stepped off the train,
and formed into double line. The Judges of the Supreme Court, Senators
and Officers of the Army and Navy followed, and took their positions in
the line without delay.
The coffin containing the body was then lifted from the car by the
regular soldiers who accompanied it on the train, and carried to the
hearse. The personal friends and attendants of Mrs. Garfield, including
the members of the Cabinet and their wives, then passed between the two
lines. Last came Mrs. Garfield leaning upon the arm of her son Harry,
and escorted upon the other side by Secretary Blaine. Mrs. Garfield and
her family were taken to a carriage and driven directly to the house of
James Mason, which became her temporary home.
[Illustration: JAMES AND HARRY GARFIELD.]
It had been determined that the remains of the President should be
conveyed to Monument Square, and there be laid in state until the day of
interment. To this end a pavilion, perhaps the finest structure of the
kind ever erected, had been built in the middle of the square at the
intersection of Superior and Ontario Streets; and here the body of the
President was to lie until the 26th of September, which had been fixed
upon as the day of sepulture. The pavilion, tasteful in design and rich
in decoration, was a fit exponent of the gorgeous solemnity of sorrow.
The structure was forty feet square at the base. The four fronts were
spanned by arches thirty-six feet high and twenty-four feet in width.
The catafalque upon which the casket rested was five and a half feet
high, covered with black velvet, and handsomely festooned. Long carpeted
walks ascended to the floor from the east and west fronts. The pavilion
was seventy-two feet high to the apex of the roof. From the center of
the roof rose a beautiful gilt sphere, supporting the figure of an angel
twenty-four feet high. The columns at each side of the arches were
ornamented by shields of a beautiful design and exquisitely draped. Over
these were suspended unfurled flags. The centers of the arches bore
similar shields. On the angles of the roof were groups of furled flags.
Projecting from the angles of the base were elevated platforms, occupied
by fully-uniformed guards. Each platform was provided with a suitable
piece of field artillery. The structure was appropriately decorated,
from base to dome, with black and white crape. Flowers and flags were
displayed in various portions of the pavilion.
The interior was beautified with rare plants, choice flowers, and
exquisite floral designs, two carloads of which had been brought from
Cincinnati. The whole was a magnificent piece of work, both in design
and execution.
At the east and west entrances to Monumental Park were heavy Gothic
arches with drive-ways and openings for foot passengers on each side.
They were situated at a sufficient distance from the catafalque to
appear to be a part of it. The eastern one was covered with crape, with
white and black trimmings running down each column, and the top bordered
with blue and white stars. Added to these were several golden shields.
The western gateway was similar in construction, and seemed fairly to
close up Superior Street to the view. On the extreme outside pillars
were the names of the States in black letters.
Into this solemn and beautiful structure, at the head of an almost
endless procession, and drawn in a beautiful hearse, surrounded with
guards of honor, was borne the body of the dead Garfield. Here the
casket was laid upon the catafalque prepared for its reception. The day
was already worn to evening, but it was decided not to admit the throng
of people until the morrow.
Meanwhile, a last resting-place had been chosen where the great Ohioan
should be at peace. The place selected for the tomb was at the top of
the most commanding knoll in Lakeview Cemetery. Below it lie two
ornamental lakes of considerable size, and on all sides, except the
south, stand the marble and granite monuments of the dead. Northward, in
the distance stretching along the horizon on either hand for twenty
miles, can be seen the blue waters of Erie. The selection of this site
was made by the trustees of the cemetery, subject to Mrs. Garfield’s
approval, which was promptly and thankfully given.
So one more day closed in the shadows of the autumnal twilight, and Ohio
sat still beside her dead.
It was the morning of Sunday. A strange vision rose with the sun.
Cleveland was thronged with illimitable crowds of people. The murmur of
the multitudes, though subdued, grew, and became continuous. At nine
o’clock the guards about the public square made an opening in their line
upon the west side through which the multitude began to pour. They were
kept in line four and five and six abreast, marching in families,
squares, groups, and indiscriminately, but still keeping their ranks,
and sweeping steadily and rapidly onward at the east and west sides of
the catafalque. Inclined planes had been erected and carpeted so that
the throngs marched easily up on the one side and down on the other. The
pace was too rapid to make the visit a satisfactory one—for the
exquisite floral adornments were tempting enough to furnish pleasure for
a visit of an hour—but all had an opportunity to get one glance at the
coffin which contained the remains of him they had met to honor.
As the morning wore on the procession grew in length and volume. In an
hour after the movement began the line stretched away to the distance of
a square; then two squares; then a half mile. The people passed at the
rate of one hundred and forty to the minute. Still there was no
abatement of the tide which poured past the catafalque. In the afternoon
the immense volume of humanity was swollen to a river whose surging,
silent waters seemed filled from fountains exhaustless as the ocean.
Later in the day came a storm of thunder and wind; only a few were
driven from the column; others filled the vacant places, and still the
tide surged on. As the crowds, never ending, swept by the catafalque,
every hat was raised, and with uncovered heads, often with tears in
their eyes and half-suppressed sobs, the people moved on. Late into the
night they continued to come in unbroken ranks, the old and young, the
pure and vile, the lame upon their crutches, the infirm leaning upon
their companions, and babes in the arms of their mothers. It was the day
of the people. It was estimated that during the day 150,000 human beings
passed silently by the casket whose mute tenant recked no longer of
earthly pomp and pageant.
On the evening of the 25th, Monument Square was set aglow with electric
lights, which, from high places here and there, threw over the strange
scene their brilliant, almost unearthly, splendor. On the outskirts of
the guard-lines great masses of men and women still lingered, gazing
silently towards the catafalque surrounded by sentinels. At midnight
only a few guards and workmen remained inside the line, though many
persons were yet on the streets outside. The scene was singularly
impressive at this hour. The almost perfect silence, the bright glare of
the lights, the ceaseless movements of the sentinels, the sighing of the
wind through the trees, combined to create a feeling of awe in the
breasts of all beholders. The massive structure, reared so quickly in
the large square, seemed the work of magic. The fact that the noble,
patriotic Garfield lay calmly sleeping the final sleep amid the scenes
of his early manhood, carried its sad lesson to every heart, and then
came, quick as thought, the reflection that the morrow would hear the
_mournful monologue of “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes_.”
It was the morning of the last day on earth. Well-nigh all the
formalities, many and sometimes tedious, peculiar to the burial of one
falling in high office and high honor, had been observed, and to these
had been added a thousand tokens, extemporized out of the nation’s
grief, befitting the funeral of a beloved Chief Magistrate. It only
remained for the people once more to lift the casket containing the body
of their friend, and to bear it to the home prepared for all living.
At 9 o’clock on the morning of the 26th the line of people leading
toward the pavilion found itself suddenly confronted by a line of
muskets. The order had been given to clear the gates. Men and women who
had been in line for hours were unable to proceed further, and many with
ill-disguised resentment turned aside to seek a favorable point to view
the exercises. The troops now formed along each side of the Park, in a
hollow square six hundred feet in length. The beautiful canopy stood in
the center, at the intersection of the two streets, and under it lay the
casket. An opening was made at the western end leading up to Superior
Street, and this was maintained with some difficulty by a regiment of
State troops. From this point to the canopy itself was stationed a line
of marines from the Washington Navy-yard—a broad avenue, a half a mile
in length, being thus kept open, so that the carriages of those entitled
to admission could enter without difficulty. It was a beautiful sight
from the canopy to look down this long double file of soldiers and
knights, and the photographers were busy in their efforts to preserve
the picture.
At 9:30 A. M. the funeral car, which was to convey the body to the
cemetery, was drawn into the square by twelve black horses with black
draperies fringed with silver lace. The horses were arranged four
abreast. At the head of each of the six outside horses was a negro groom
in long black coat, high silk hat, and white gloves.
The car was elaborately decorated and surmounted by large
black-and-white plumes, with folded battle flags at each corner. Next
came a procession of carriages bearing the family and intimate friends
of the dead President. Draped chairs were arranged about the catafalque,
and here were seated not only those who were bound to the Garfield
family by the ties of nature and intimate affection, but also a great
number of the most distinguished statesmen, jurists, and soldiers of the
nation. The sound of a minute-gun broke the silence, and the services
were opened with the reading of the Scriptures by Bishop Bedell and an
invocation by the Rev. Ross C. Houghton. At eleven o’clock the Rev.
Isaac Errett, of Cincinnati, pronounced the funeral oration, which was a
chaste and touching tribute to the memory of the great dead.
At the close of this eloquent address, Rev. Jabez Hall announced General
Garfield’s favorite hymn, “Ho! reapers of life’s harvest,” which was
sung by the choirs gathered about the catafalque. Then followed a
closing prayer and benediction by Rev. Charles S. Pomeroy, and then the
removal of the casket to the cemetery. It was now noonday, and the heat
was very oppressive. The funeral car had been drawn up to within fifty
feet of the foot of the incline leading from the canopy, and a roll of
carpeting covered the ground. The trained soldiers from Washington stood
in line at the foot of the canopy, ready to carry out the body whenever
the word was given.
The members of the Cleveland Greys, with their high bearskin hats, stood
like statues at the four corners of the canopy. The long line of
soldiers stood, all attention, and the signal that all was ready was
given. At the word of command the soldiers, with their white helmets,
stepped briskly up the incline, and turning “about face,” readily lifted
the casket to their shoulders. Then, grasping each other by the
shoulder, thus giving the casket all the support necessary, they marched
with slow and steady step down toward the funeral car. Not a word was
spoken. The men were too well drilled to need more than a nod of
command, and they carried the body to the car and laid it on the bier in
silence. Then they marched back, and, turning again, took up their
position on either side of the coffin.
A line was now formed outside of the square in order that the cortege
might pass on its way to the mansion of the dead. The wife and mother
and children of the President, accompanied by a great throng of intimate
friends, arose to follow, and then the procession began to move towards
the cemetery, three miles away.
The funeral car proceeded beyond the city hall, and stopped until the
first carriage started out. As the carriages containing the friends of
the family and eminent men were filled, the car continued its journey
until the massive archway at Erie Street was reached. Another jam of
people were waiting here. And as the procession slowly passed onward
these joined the ranks. Turning into the broad and beautiful Euclid
Avenue, the mournful cortege wended its way toward the cemetery in the
distance. The great difficulty with the moving pageant was its immense
volume. If all applicants had been given a place it would have been
twice the length of the entire route. The weather had been very warm
during the morning, but about two o’clock a refreshing breeze cooled the
atmosphere, and an hour later a heavy storm of rain came down, rendering
the march very disagreeable. Then there was a stampede of the crowd for
shelter. The rain lasted for about fifteen minutes, and the bright
uniforms of the soldiers, and the feathery plumes of the Knights
Templar, and other societies, were drenched and soiled.
The procession continued its weary march without further event until the
head of the column arrived at a point about half a mile distant from the
cemetery gate, when a halt was ordered. The societies then opened their
ranks, and the funeral car, with escort and following carriages, passed
through and onward to the vault which was to receive the President’s
remains.
Here was the last scene of the solemn pageant, begun afar by the sea.
The surroundings were grand and beautiful. Art had led Nature by the
hand to this last shrine of the earthly pilgrimage. On every side lay
the soft carpet of green. Over the space from the roadway to the
entrance of the vault was a magnificent canopy, draped in the gorgeous
trappings of woe. The air was burdened with the perfume of a thousand
flowers. Leading into the vault was a dark carpet strewn with roses so
thick that the carpet could not be at first recognized. On entering
there was presented a somber darkness and sacred shade, equal to the
catacombs of antiquity. There was a vault within a vault. The interior
was hung all about with dense mourning, having large flags as a
background. The choicest floral designs occupied every space on the
walls, and the floor was deeply bedded with choice flowers. A large
cross and crown, from the Belgian Legation, was in the center of the
south side, and an elegant lyre, sent from Washington, was on the
opposite side, while numerous designs from the people of the city were
placed here and there. It was impossible to use all the floral offerings
sent to this place of rest, and many of them were kept in the boxes at
the vault. The walls of the chamber were trimmed with smilax, and the
doors with crape festooned with trailing vines. On the first step of the
entrance, at the right door, was a group of three elegant crosses of
roses, jasmine, carnations, with the words,
“DEAD, BUT NOT FORGOTTEN,”
the gift of the Bolivian Legation at Washington. The steps were covered
with evergreens and strewn with a thick carpet of rosebuds, tuberoses,
and carnation. A large wreath, presented by the ladies of Dubuque, Iowa,
was fastened near the ceiling, so that it could be seen at some
distance. Looking through the open door at the head of the bier was a
lyre of roses, carnations, and tuberoses, bearing in immortelles the
words:
“IN MEMORY OF JAMES A. GARFIELD.”
At the foot of the bier stood a heavy cross, the gift of Mrs. Garfield
herself to the Decorative Committee, for that place. The sides of the
vault were draped with rich black. The canopy of the interior consisted
of many flags so arranged as to give the impression of an interior roof.
The inner west wall was beautifully draped with flags festooned with
black, and ornamented with a wreath of white roses. The floor was
covered with a carpet of arbor vitæ and roses. The heavy doors were
removed, and the gates were draped with bunting and festoons of smilax.
In the center of the vault stood the bier, a beveled parallelogram, with
a base of black velvet and draped entire with heavy black broadcloth,
rich fringe, and a liberal trimming of evergreen.
The procession halted. It was the last stage in the journey. The chief
mourners, except Harry and James Garfield, did not alight. The clouds
still wept at intervals. The band removed to a distance, sounding the
notes of a solemn requiem. The Forest City Guards formed on the right
and the Knights on the left. The funeral car was then drawn up over the
heavy carpeting of evergreens and flowers. The long lines of Guards
presented arms. There was a moment of death-like silence—a most
impressive pause—when the inclined plane was adjusted to the car. The
Marines marched up into the car and carefully bore the casket down and
directly into the vault. It was set gently on the bier. The Guards stood
silent. A brief historical sketch of the dead President was read by the
Rev. J. H. Jones, former chaplain of the old Garfield regiment. The
Vocal Society of Cleveland then chanted in beautiful measure the
Twenty-second Ode of Horace. The friends and attendants were thanked for
their presence and sympathy, and the benediction was pronounced by
President B. A. Hinsdale, of Hiram College. The door was closed. A guard
was placed about the sepulcher, and all that the earth could claim of
James A. Garfield was left to sleep the sleep that knows no waking.
To moralize on the Life and Work of Garfield would be superfluous. He
has furnished to the people of the United States one of the brightest
and noblest examples of American citizenship. Both in public life and
private life he has contributed to the annals of our times a record
unsullied as the azure sky. His steps were the steps of a pure man
climbing up to greatness. His ambitions were chastened—his aspirations
the aspirations of a patriot. Over his great talents was shed the luster
of noble activities, and his path was illumined with something of the
effulgence of genius. His integrity was spotless, his virtue white as
the snow. Of all our public men of recent times, Garfield was in a
certain sense the most American. He had suffered all the hardships of
the common lot. He had known poverty and orphanage and toil. To himself
he owed in a preëminent degree his victory over adversity and his rise
to distinction. He carried into public life, even to the highest seat of
honor, the plainness and simplicity of a man of the people. Ostentation
was no part of his nature, and subtlety found no place in his practices.
In an age of venality and corruption—the very draff and ebb of the Civil
War—he stood unscathed. He went up to his high seat and down to the
doorway of the grave without the scent of fire on his garments. His name
smells sweet in all lands under the circle of the sun, and his fame is a
priceless legacy which posterity will not willingly let die.
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
2. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as
printed.
3. Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers.
4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
5. Superscripts are denoted by a caret before a single superscript
character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in
curly braces, e.g. M^r. or M^{ister}.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "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." ***
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