“White House,March 7, 1881.
“White House,March 7, 1881.
“White House,March 7, 1881.
“White House,March 7, 1881.
“My Dear Cousin:—I received your good letter and your picture also, and would have answered sooner, but waited to get my picture. I have some, and will send you one, though they are not good. I am happy to tell you that we are all pretty well, but a good deal tired out. We have passed through the greatest rush of people for the last six months that I ever saw. Since the Inauguration it is one steady stream of old friends calling. It takes pretty much all of the time to entertain them; they want to see the President’s mother. I am the first mother that has occupied the White House and her son President, but I feel very thankful for sucha son. I don’t like the word proud, but if I must use it I think in this case it is quite appropriate. How many times my mind goes back to our girlhood school days! but changes take place. I have seen sorrowful days and have seen happy days. I was once young and am now old, but I have never seen the righteous forsaken or his seed begging his bread. I have got a very pleasant room, nice furnished, and waited on in the very best manner possible. Now I want you to write to me. Our folks all send love to you; with very much love, I remain your aged cousin,
“Eliza Garfield.â€
“Eliza Garfield.â€
“Eliza Garfield.â€
“Eliza Garfield.â€
Notwithstanding the novelty of her position, the first instance of the kind in the history of the Presidents, although her son was not the first President whose mother was living during his term of office, she was at once established as a great favorite, and her short stay in the White House was as happy as worldly honors and human affection could make it. When the summer came she longed for the country and old friends in Ohio, and accompanied by her two youngest grandsons, she returned to Mentor. She expected her son to visit her during the summer, and to return with her daughter in the fall to the White House.
WELLS-MARKLEY UMPEHENT, PHIL_A.MENTOR—THE HOME OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD.
MENTOR—THE HOME OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD.
MENTOR—THE HOME OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD.
No more imposing ceremonies were ever witnessed in Washington, or in this country, than those which attended the inauguration of President James A. Garfield. Thousands of National Guardsmen and scores of civic associations were in the procession, which, with the exception of the famous review in 1865, was the finest pageant the country has yet seen. Twenty thousand men were in line, and the cortege occupied two hours in passing the review-stand. From the White House to the Capitol there was a mass of people, and the decorations of the historic avenue were profuse and handsome. The snow lay on the parks and terraces about the Capitol, and the day was raw and disagreeable, though the sun shone at noonday and dispelled the sombre clouds that hung heavy over the city after the storm of the preceding night and early morning.
In the front row of the Senate gallery the wife and mother of General Garfield sat beside Mrs. Hayes, and with them were the only daughters of the incoming and outgoing Presidents. The galleries were very soon crowded with a brilliant audience, and on the floor of the Senate were many distinguished men. General Hancock, the Democratic candidate for the Presidency, was among the number, and the ovation tendered him was second only to that bestowed upon the President-elect. The ceremony of introducing his successor was performed by Vice-President Wheeler; and after the oath of office had been administered to Vice-President Arthur, and Mr. Wheeler had said his farewell to the Senate, the assembly adjourned to the eastern portico to witness the taking of the oath of office by President Garfield. The spectacle was a grandone. A vast multitude of people gazed upon the immense platform upon which were seated General Garfield, with Chief-Justice Waite on his right and Sergeant-at-Arms Bright on his left. Immediately back of the three, who were directly in the centre of the platform, sat President Hayes, Mrs. Hayes and Mrs. Garfield and the mother of General Garfield. Still behind them stood Mollie Garfield and Fanny Hayes, and to their right sat the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Mr. Randall. The gentlemen sat with their heads uncovered. The Chief-Justice rose from his seat, and instantly the noise and din died away, and the oath of office was administered. Then followed the inaugural address, after which Mr. Hayes shook hands with the new President, as did the Chief-Justice. Turning from them, President Garfield tenderly kissed his mother and then his wife. This being the first incident of its kind, the people noted it with great gratification, and the throng rent the air with huzzas, while the President received the congratulations of those about him as he slowly made his way back to the head of the procession. The ladies of the party returned first, and were at the White House before the procession got under way from the Capitol. The President’s carriage was drawn by four horses, and the escort were the Cleveland troops, in showy uniforms. General Sherman rode at the head of the procession. The reviewing-stand in front of the White House was occupied by a distinguished company, which awaited the coming of thePresidential party from the White House, whither they had gone to lunch. At half-past two the President and ex-President walked down to the stand, followed by their families and the entire White House party. The President stood with his wife and his mother on his right, and ex-President and Mrs. Hayes on his left, with General Hancock immediately behind and above him, and surrounded by the members of the Cabinet, Senators, Congressmen and a numerous company of ladies.
President Hayes and his family became the guests of Secretary and Mrs. Sherman, and after the procession had passed they returned to the door of the Mansion, took leave of the President and Mrs. Garfield, and with their son, who welcomed Mrs. Garfield as she crossed the threshold, were driven away.
The city was brilliantly illuminated at night, and the inauguration ball in the Museum Building was attended by nearly every person of distinction in Washington. Mrs. Garfield was arrayed in a magnificent dress of lavender satin, with trimmings of point lace and a corsage bouquet of pansies. Mrs. Hayes wore a white satin de Lyons trimmed with pearl passementeries. Both costumes were elegant and were worn without jewels. In a ball-room thronged with ladies whose superb diamonds were resplendent and glittered with reflected light, their simplicity was all the more charming.
The National Museum is a building designed in the form of a Greek cross, the arms diverging from a central octagonal, surmounted by a dome, and the temporarydecorations were magnificent, consisting of statues, tropical plants, flowers and the national colors, draped with evergreen, and coats-of-arms. The President and Mrs. Garfield received on a raised dais. The gallery above them was for the use of Mrs. Garfield and Mrs. Hayes and their invited guests. Another was occupied by General Hancock, who was the guest of the committee, surrounded by a distinguished party of military officers. The scene, viewed from the balcony near the rotunda, had the appearance of a series of halls, separated by arches, and affording an extended and varied vista. The view was enchanting and bewildering. The picture was a never-to-be-forgotten one. With all the adjuncts of famous people, gorgeous in apparel and surrounded by music and flowers, the ball-room is remembered as a fairy place and recalled as a bright dream.
Succeeding the inauguration were days of bustle and excitement for the new inmates of the White House. They had many friends in the city where they had lived so long and entertained so hospitably, and all were anxious to see them. So likewise were the hundreds of strangers who had visited the Capitol to witness the inaugural ceremonies, and the Saturday evening following the event the President and Mrs. Garfield received. In the matter of dress Mrs. Garfield came up to the requirements of her position. At this reception she wore a rich ruby velvet, made in princess style, the facings of the long bow and loops that fastened the fullness at the back being of Sultan red satin. The open neck and thehalf-long sleeves were ornamented with elegant lace. Her hair was simply arranged after the prevailing style, and she wore no jewels.
Several afternoon receptions were held during the spring, and many invited guests were informally entertained, but there was no opportunity for social gayeties, and the anticipations were all the brighter for the coming winter. The ladies of the Cabinet numbered several long accustomed to official life in Washington, and it was anticipated that the receptions and State dinners the coming winter would be rendered brilliant by the circle immediately about the President. Mrs. Blaine, Mrs. MacVeagh, Mrs. James, Mrs. Lincoln, and in fact all, were well known in Washington society, and were united in their desire to make the Administration, socially, as successful as it promised to be officially.
The spring wore away, and the summer came, bringing with it the two elder sons of the President, who had been away at school.
The five children of the President and Mrs. Garfield attracted much attention while in the White House, particularly the two eldest boys, Harry and James, just developing into manhood, and Mollie, the only daughter. Two younger lads, Irwin and Abram, were less before the public than the elder children, and were in Washington but a short time, having returned to Ohio in the early summer. The elder boys were at their studies, and the daughter was too young to participate in the few public receptions given by the President.
The family were all together for a time in the spring, and this description of a dining-room scene is given by a Washington correspondent:
“In the cosy family dining-room the President’s seat is midway the length of the table on its west side, and Mrs. Garfield sits opposite, with Harry, her eldest, a decided ‘mother boy,’ as near her as the presence of almost constant guests will permit, while Jimmie sits correspondingly near his father, where also ‘Grandma’ Garfield has an honored place. She is always waited on first, whoever else may be present. Mollie sits at the north end of the table, and the two younger boys are disposed a little promiscuously, according to the exigencies of the case. Harry is eighteen, tall and graceful, with the regular features of his mother. The down of manhood appears on his cheeks. Jimmie, sixteen years old, is nearly or quite as tall as his brother and broader shouldered, with the Saxon hair and large features of his father, whom he bids fair to resemble strongly in person and intellect. Mollie, aged fourteen, has the dark-brown hair of her mother and the lineaments of her father not unhandsomely reproduced. When womanhood has softened the charm of her face she will be very fine-looking. She is a great pet with her father. Irwin, aged eleven, and Abram, aged nine, you already know through descriptions, especially the former, who is the eccentric one, possibly the genius of them all. He is named for General McDowell, and insists that his name must be always written, not Irwin M., but IrwinMcD. Meal-time is almost the only time the President has lately had with his children, and he devotes himself in great part to them at that time, after asking questions on some interesting point of Harry or James or Mollie to draw them out, and then explaining it at considerable length, instructing by the Socratic method as it were.â€
The eldest and the youngest of the household are dead; the latter, an infant son, having died in Washington four years before the President’s election. It is related of General Garfield that he suffered intense grief at the loss of his children, and his friends frequently during his last months of life recalled the sorrow he manifested at the time of his little child’s death in Washington.
In June the public was startled with the news of Mrs. Garfield’s illness, and it was with great concern that the announcements from the sick-room were learned. The President gave up all public matters, and for days watched over her, giving her the medicines prescribed and remaining at her bedside day and night. Happily, her life was saved, and so soon as she could be conveyed from Washington, she was taken to Long Branch, where it was hoped the sea air would restore her. She was so weak when she got there that she had to be carried to her room, and was but beginning to grow strong when the President left her and returned to Washington, preparatory to making a trip to New England and the White Mountains. He was daily cheered by the news of his wife’s steady improvement, and was anticipating a happy visit to Williams College, hisAlma Mater. The partywere to leave Washington on the third of July, and be joined by Mrs. Garfield and her friends at New York. The trip was all arranged, and the morning of the eventful day came. Mrs. Garfield at Long Branch was anticipating a reunion with her husband, and was making final preparations to start from the hotel to the train when the news that startled the nation reached there and was in part tenderly broken to her. She was taken from Washington, at a leisurely gait, a helpless invalid, but the telegram that shocked her that July morning sent her back at the rate of fifty miles an hour. Even that seemed slow to the anxious wife and the suffering husband. The event was the never-to-be-forgotten, never-to-be-forgiven tragedy of the shooting of President Garfield, the particulars of which are briefly told here.
On the morning of Saturday, July 2d, when it was supposed that the President was on his way from Washington to New York, accompanied by all his Cabinet, their wives and several friends, this news was flashed over the wires: “President Garfield was shot before leaving on the limited express train this morning!â€
The brief announcement, made in two lines, that the President of the United States had been shot by an assassin, excited great incredulity, then amazement, and finally a feeling of horror that rendered suspense almost intolerable. The second despatch followed speedily, and it conveyed the intelligence that Colonel Corbin had returned to the President with a physician. This was meagre enough, and the third was waited with intenseexcitement. It said: “President Garfield was shot this morning at the Baltimore and Potomac depot by an assassin. It is reported that he is mortally wounded. The assassin was caught.â€
The fourth despatch, dated half an hour later, was to the effect that Dr. Bliss had said that the President’s wound was not a mortal one, and that concerning the assassin nothing was known except that he was under arrest. A subsequent message announced that the physicians attending the President were holding a consultation. Soon came the particulars of the shooting:
The President and Mr. Blaine rode from the White House to the depot in the Secretary’s carriage. Reaching the entrance on B street, the President and the Secretary left it and entered the ladies’ waiting-room, walking arm-in-arm. Just at the moment that they were passing through the door into the main room, two shots were fired. Mr. Blaine saw a man run through the room at that instant, and started toward him, but turning to the President and seeing that he had fallen he sprang to his side, as did several others, and raised his head from the floor. One shot passed through the arm, and the other took effect in the lower part of the back. There were few people in the room when the shots were fired. The members of the President’s party were on the platform beyond the waiting-room, or in the car that was ready to start the moment the President was aboard. Secretaries Windom and Hunt were promenading on the platform, Postmaster-GeneralJames stood at the side of the car in which were seated the ladies of the party. They were all chatting as they watched for the coming of the President. Colonel Jamison, of the Post-office Department, ran out of the depot immediately after the shots were fired and exclaimed, “The President is shot!†One of the party made a doubting reply, but when their informant answered “I saw it,†they rushed back and found the President on the floor, his head supported by Mrs. White, the woman in charge of the waiting-room, who had witnessed the shooting. The entire party hastily quitted the car and followed them to the scene, and a large crowd gathered about the prostrate form. Shortly after a mattress was brought in and the President was removed to the upper floor of the depot. Within an hour an ambulance had arrived and the President, who had grown very weak, was removed to it and conveyed to the White House. The news spread like wildfire, and those who at first doubted the report became convinced that something had happened by the rapid driving of a carriage through Pennsylvania avenue, clearing the way for the ambulance which followed driven at a rapid pace, and surrounded by mounted police. An excited throng followed. The President bore the removal with great fortitude, and in fact, after the first paroxysm of pain and faintness had passed, he seemed not again to lose his self-control. His first thought after the shock of the shooting had passed was of his wife, and from speaking reassuringly to his son James,who was beside him, he dictated to Colonel Rockwell this despatch to her:
“The President wishes me to say to you from him that he has been seriously hurt. How seriously he cannot yet say. He is himself, and hopes you will come to him soon. He sends his love to you.â€
The ladies of the party hurried to the White House to make preparations for the reception of the President, and when the sad procession reached the Mansion, everything was in readiness for him. As he was lifted from the ambulance he saw some familiar faces at the windows, and with a smile, which those who saw it will never forget, he raised his right hand and gave the military salute. His face was ghastly white, and it was thought that his moments were numbered. He was carried into the “southwest chamber,†that he had recently occupied as a sleeping room, and was soon surrounded by the physicians. The events that transpired in that room during the day were made known throughout the land, and are familiar to all readers of the newspapers.
It is not needful in a sketch of Mrs. Garfield to recite the painful history of the creature who shot the President, or to give any of the particulars of his case. His name is execrated wherever it is heard, and the world would be glad to bury it in eternal oblivion. The only emotion of a human kind exhibited by him was his hesitation to shoot the President when he went to Long Branch with Mrs. Garfield. In his confession he stated that he was at the depot for that purpose, but noticingthat Mrs. Garfield was pale and ill, and clung tenderly to her husband’s arm, he decided not to take his life then.
It was seven o’clock in the evening when the train dashed at express speed into Washington. Shortly afterward the President heard the wheels of a carriage on the drive, and speaking to Mrs. James, who sat beside him, said, “That is my wife.†Alighting from the carriage she was accompanied up the stairs by her son James and Attorney-General MacVeagh. She hurried to the bedside of the President, and greeted him with a cheerful smile. Her self-control and quiet demeanor were noted by the doctors, who returned to the room and terminated the interview for the time being. She was escorted out of her husband’s presence, and then broke down, weeping piteously. Shortly afterward she returned to the bedside and had a second private interview with him. From that time he manifested favorable symptoms and hope was revived. Later in the evening, as Mrs. James sat beside him watching him as he slept, he suddenly awoke, and said to her: “Do you know where Mrs. Garfield is now?â€
“Oh, yes,†Mrs. James answered; “she is close by, watching and praying for her husband.â€
He looked up to the lady with an anxious face, and said, “I want her to go to bed. Will you tell her that I say if she will undress and go to bed, I will turn right over, and I feel sure that when I know she is in bed, I can go to sleep and sleep all night? Tell her that I will sleep all night if she will only do what I ask.â€
Mrs. James went immediately with the message to Mrs. Garfield, who quickly replied: “Go back and tell him that I am undressing.†She returned with the answer, and the President turned over on his right side and dropped asleep almost instantly.
Throughout the night he was cheerful, and to Dr. Bliss, who, in replying to his question as to his condition, had told him that there was a chance of recovery, said hopefully, “We will take that chance.â€
The people, impressed with this remark and the cheerfulness it indicated, renewed the hope which had well nigh been extinguished by the repeated assurances of the physicians that he could not live through the night. The Fourth of July, the saddest ever known in this country, passed; the news from the bedside of the nation’s patient was less cheering, and the gloomy tide of a great sorrow ran a strong current under the ordinary occupations and duties of every-day life. No gathering of people was possible where it was not the dominant subject, and it took weeks of weary anxiety to quell the spirit of revenge that was universal in the hearts of men against the wasp that had stung the President and had poisoned his life-blood. The sympathy of other countries soothed this feeling in time, and the demeanor of the President was such an example to the country that it was impossible to express hostile feelings with such a pattern of submission before them. Great as had been President Garfield’s services in the past, his heroic bearing in affliction was of more valueto the people, and his influence did more to bring about harmony of feeling, brotherly love and the obliteration of party bitterness than any work he had done in his days of health and activity.
As he lay on his bed of sickness, he thought of his mother, whose absence from him troubled him. He hoped at first to go to her soon and to recuperate his strength at Mentor, but while waiting for the strength that never came he wrote her this letter:
Washington, D. C.,August 11th, 1881.
Washington, D. C.,August 11th, 1881.
Washington, D. C.,August 11th, 1881.
Washington, D. C.,August 11th, 1881.
Dear Mother:—Don’t be disturbed by conflicting reports about my condition. It is true I am still weak and on my back, but I am gaining every day, and need only time and patience to bring me through.
Give my love to all the relatives and friends and especially to sisters Hetty and Mary. Your loving son,
James A. Garfield.
James A. Garfield.
James A. Garfield.
James A. Garfield.
Mrs. Eliza Garfield, Hiram, Ohio.
Mrs. Eliza Garfield, Hiram, Ohio.
Mrs. Eliza Garfield, Hiram, Ohio.
Mrs. Eliza Garfield, Hiram, Ohio.
Telegrams of sympathy reached his bedside from all parts of the earth, and wherever the news had gone in other lands there came back gratifying evidences of world-wide sorrow.
As the days passed the alternations of hope and despair kept the feeling of the people at its highest tension, and during this time of anxious waiting, Mrs. Garfield was the recipient of countless messages, letters and assurances of every kind of the sentiment of her countrymen and women. She appreciated all that was felt and said; and on one occasion, when some unusualincident had received her attention, she said in a voice broken with emotion and with tears in her eyes: “If it were possible for my husband and me to go around and see all those dear people who have been so grateful in their remembrance for us here of late days, I would be so happy; and I know he would, too. I want to thank them—to tell them all how kindly I feel toward them for what they have said to me. I never could understand anything about politics, and if I liked a person it made no difference whether they were Republicans or Democrats; and now I have grown to think that there is not much difference between the two great parties, for one says just as kind words in our present affliction as the other. It makes me feel like forming an opinion as to what I would do were women permitted to vote as well as men. I believe I would get two tickets, fold them together so as to look like one, and drop both in the ballot-box.â€
The love and respect for her womanly attributes and fine self-government increased as time passed; and it was evident that her conduct under the most trying circumstances that could come to a woman had aroused the enthusiasm of the entire country. From the various organizations, without respect to their nature or object, were received at the White House kind wishes for the President and earnest assurances to him that his family was not forgotten in his time of helplessness and suffering. The practical spirit of the people was aroused, and the question was repeatedly asked: “What can wedo to make it easier for the President?†Presents of all descriptions, from the rich and the poor, the great and the humble, patriarchs and little children, were sent to the White House in great numbers. Everybody wanted to do something, and it was painful that so little could be offered that would be of use. Sick-room appliances reached the physicians in such quantities that the basement of the mansion was crowded, and the slightest intimation of a change in the nourishment or treatment of the distinguished sufferer sent numberless articles for trial. That he might have the richest Alderney milk, an eager owner of an imported cow quickly forwarded the animal, and he was repaid many times over with the knowledge that the patient saw from the window the fine creature that had been sent to minister to his comfort, and spoke of it. Little children sent their tributes, and the gift of a pet squirrel from two little people who had learned that the President had expressed a desire for such food, brought tears to the eyes of all who knew of the circumstance. The tender, constant and ever deepening feeling of the people for their sick President must have helped him immeasurably, for he was borne up and cheered daily by the affection that went out from all human hearts toward him. It seemed to the people that he must get well, that the prayers of a nation would be answered; that the assassin’s work would fail; that love would conquer death, and that into the weary pain-worn body of the sufferer would be renewed the strong life-currents. Whocan ever forget, though long years may dim other memories, the daily and nightly watch over that sick-chamber! When the relapse came weeks after the crisis was thought to be passed, the excitement and interest grew terrible in its intensity. Those who had the dissemination of the news aged under it as the bulletins that came from their hands banished hope. The day of saddest gloom, Saturday, August 27, was given up to prayer, and when Sunday came, and word went forth that the President was better, the people called it resurrection, and said in their joy that God had given back to them in answer to their petitions him who was thought to be dead.
Through it all stood Mrs. Garfield, eager and watchful, but steady and strong in heart. When the doctors told her of their fears she did not sink down or show dismay. She bade them do their best, and never to give up, and leaving them she went back with a cheerful face to her husband and resumed her place at his bedside. Too weak and weary to give thought to others, the heroic sufferer watched her face and was understood by her when to others his wishes were unintelligible. If he held on to life with a tenacity that surprised every one, his strength in large measure was drawn from her. She was more to him than all else, and she furnished the strongest motive he felt for his recovery. The thought that was agitating many minds, that he be given assurance that his family would be taken care of in case he died, was voiced by Mr. Cyrus W. Field, of New York, who proposedthat a fund of $250,000 be raised for Mrs. Garfield and her children, and settled upon her. He started the fund with a large subscription, and the amount subscribed before and after the death of the President reached nearly $350,000. Though no public acknowledgment was made of the gift, it is a fact that the President’s mind was greatly relieved by this considerate act, and his last days were not troubled with dread of the future for his wife and children. When the sultry August days had tried his strength beyond endurance, and it was apparent that a removal from the malarial atmosphere of the capital was imperative, the journey to Long Branch was undertaken. Many plans had been suggested and the practicability of all considered; but Mrs. Garfield, who knew of her husband’s love for the sea, and of the benefit that she had derived from her stay there, insisted upon this trip. The journey was undertaken after careful preparation, and the details of the trip from Washington to Elberon were read with thrilling interest at the time. At every station and wayside crossing the people gathered, and stood with uncovered heads as the train with its precious freight passed by. The sympathy with which every heart was overflowing was deep but voiceless; all felt the need the sufferer had of silence and repose. Bulletins were thrown off the cars at different points, and it was with unspeakable relief that the arrival at the Francklyn Cottage was announced. For days before, workmen had been busy preparing a roadbedfor a track from the Elberon station to the cottage, and four hundred men spent the night before his arrival in laying the track. In this work the hundreds of guests at the various hotels and cottages of Long Branch took great interest, an interest touchingly expressed in the request of a little boy, who with his father was watching the progress of the workmen. He desired to do something for the President, and leaving his father’s side he approached a man who was driving a pile and asked to be permitted to help. The man carelessly said to him that he was too small, and could not lift the maul. “Let me try,†he urged; the heavy weight was given him, and with the workman’s assistance the pile was put down in place. The task completed, the child returned with a radiant face, saying, “There, papa, I have done something for the President.†Happy child, to have relieved his feelings by striking a blow in the service of the sufferer! How many thousands upon thousands of people would have accomplished herculean tasks, if by so doing they could have been of service to the President! Mr. Francklyn, whose beautiful summer home was tendered Mrs. Garfield, and accepted, was kindly envied by the public whose houses would gladly have been given up for a like purpose.
The room into which the President was taken was Mrs. Francklyn’s own boudoir, on the southeast corner of the second story, overlooking the sea; and his pleasure in beholding the broad Atlantic from his bed gave hope that he would get well. It was expected thathe would revive rapidly under the combined influences of a cooler atmosphere, the sight of the sea, and the change of scene. That he did not mend rapidly troubled the people, and they murmured. Then remembering Mrs. Garfield’s remark, made in reply to the physician who told her at the time of the relapse in Washington that only a miracle could save her husband—“Then that miracle will be performed: he will liveâ€â€”they redoubled their earnestness in prayer, and believed that the bitter cup would be taken from unwilling lips.
The gloom of the September days deepened and the reluctant warning was sent out—“Hope no more, hope is dead.†Still the people hoped, relying upon the faith of Mrs. Garfield, the wonderful vitality and heroic demeanor of the invalid. They believed in the impossible, and prayed yet more fervently. Never in the world’s history was any one so universally prayed for. It seemed like doubting God’s goodness to despair of the President’s life. Still the same anxious waiting was continued, and with each telegram that was sent came a knell to the hopes of millions. He must die, they said, and that last Monday was like the funeral day of a race. People sought their homes that night oppressed with sad forebodings, and their petitions were for strength to meet the impending calamity.
He died September 19th, 1881, the first news reaching the people in the cities through the tolling of the bells. When the strokes commenced, those who listened thought it was the striking of the hour, but soon they realizedthe meaning of the slow tolling, and as the church bells began to give out their dissonance on the night wind, the hearts of the listeners sank within them. “’Tis he,†they said, and their eyes overflowed with tears as they thought of the stricken mourner who would now watch no more at his bedside. From out their homes the people hurried, and the streets of the cities were crowded with a restless throng surging aimlessly along, seemingly panic-stricken and unnerved.
All that day the watchers at the bedside counted the hours with feverish dread, for the physicians had foretold the end and the brave wife had gathered her strength to meet the inevitable. Much of the time she had watched at his bedside, and at intervals when she could be spared had sat alone at a window overlooking the water, white and still, making no complaint, causing no unnecessary anxiety on her account. At last, utterly weary, and believing that her husband was resting quietly, she retired to her room, leaving him without a thought of immediate death. A summons to come quickly was made shortly after ten o’clock, and when she hurried into the room, seeing the change that had come over the beloved face, she exclaimed, “What does this mean?†and then, realizing the situation, cried, “Oh, why am I made to suffer this cruel wrong!†That was all the outburst made by her then or after. The death-damp was on her husband’s brow, and the end had come. She sat upon the bed beside him, holding his hand in hers and gazing into the eyes no longer able to return her look.
The history of the dying scene can be told in a few words. General Swaim was watching, when the President, who had been sleeping, suddenly awoke and said, “Oh, Swaim! this terrible pain!†indicating its locality by placing his hand on his breast over the region of the heart. “Oh, Swaim!†he exclaimed again later, “this terrible pain! Press your hand on it! Oh, Swaim!†The eyes were set in death a moment later, and no other words were spoken. “Dan,†the colored man, came into the room at that moment and was hurriedly despatched for Dr. Bliss. The latter was sitting at a table over his letters. Colonel Rockwell had just left the room and joined his wife and daughter on the piazza. The moment Dr. Bliss glanced at the face of the President, before he had touched his pulse he said, “Swaim, he is dying. Call Drs. Agnew and Hamilton, and send for his wife.â€
When Mrs. Garfield entered the room, the President was quite unconscious. There was no sound except the occasional heavy breathing of the President, and an occasional whisper between the doctors. The light which had been burning behind the screen was carried nearer the bed, and the group, which comprised Dr. Bliss, who stood at the head of the bed noting the pulse of the patient, Mrs. Garfield, who sat on the bed, Drs. Agnew, Hamilton and Boynton, Col. Rockwell, Gen. Swaim, and Dan, waited in silence. Mollie Garfield, who was by her mother’s side, put her arms about her neck and asked, “Is it death?†The mother clasped her to her heart, sayingconvulsively, “My daughter.†Soon the President’s breathing ceased, his head fell back on the arm of Dr. Bliss, and the latter whispered, “It is all over.†Mrs. Garfield arose and went from the room, the fixed lines about her face showing the effort she was making to control herself. At the door of her room she broke quite down and sobbed aloud. She was alone but a few minutes and then returned to the bed where her dead husband lay. The eyelids had been closed and the seal of death was set upon the rigid limbs. She sat by the bed for three hours, the tears raining down her face and her form shaking violently. The cold hand she held returned no answering pressure, and she stroked the arm mechanically as she looked upon the face of her dead.
When it was necessary for the last service that the living could ever pay to the departed to be performed, she was led to her room, where Dr. Bliss from an adjoining apartment heard her pacing the floor all night long. She did not forget the broken-hearted mother in her distant home, and General Swaim was commissioned to telegraph her.
When the aged woman came from her room early in the morning, she asked for the telegram that was expected every day, but was induced to have her breakfast first and then read the news.
“Grandma,†said her granddaughter, in reply to a request that she be given the telegram that she knew must be there, “would you be surprised to get bad news this morning?â€
“Well, I don’t know,†she answered slowly.
“Grandma,†she said, “there is bad news.â€
“Is he dead?†asked the old lady tremulously.
“He is.â€
The tears started as she asked, “Is it true? Then the Lord help me, for if he is dead what shall I do? I have no further wish to live, and I cannot live if it is so.â€
The tolling of the bells had not wakened her in the night, and every care was taken to keep her from excitement; but she was rendered nervous and weak, and those about greatly feared the result of the shock. Several times she retired to her room, and later in the day it was evident that she had brought herself into a composed state. Alone in her grief she had found strength to meet the blow, and she read the telegram which said, “James died this evening at 10.35. He calmly breathed his life away.†Then after a long silence she slowly said, “I can firmly believe that God knows best, and I must not murmur.â€
At Mentor the two younger sons were staying with Mrs. Garfield’s brother, and in the early morning they were told of their loss. At Williams College were Harry and James, the latter ill of malaria contracted in Washington. The eldest son reached his mother’s side the next day, leaving his brother behind.
At Elberon preparations were making for the removal of the body to Washington, and Mrs. Garfield was surrounded by the ladies of the Cabinet and others. After the autopsy, which revealed the nature of the woundand showed that the President could not have recovered, and that had he lived he would have been a hopeless invalid, the brave, suffering woman grew calmer, and with unfailing courage met the demands made upon her. She saw President Arthur, who called with General Grant, and refused herself to none whose presence was warranted by right of official rank or personal friendship.
It was Mrs. Garfield’s wish that there should be a religious service held at the cottage before the start was made for Washington. At half-past nine on Wednesday morning the doors were closed to the public, and the Rev. Charles J. Young, of Long Branch, stepped to the head of the bier to begin the service. The audience gathered about him comprised the highest officials of the land and their wives, together with all who had been in attendance upon the President. At the moment when all was in readiness, Mrs. Garfield leaned towards Colonel Rockwell, who stood near her, and spoke in a whisper to him. He raised his hand to bid the minister wait, and said in a low tone that Mrs. Garfield wished to look into the coffin before the service. Immediately she arose and taking her daughter by the hand went to the side of it. Both stood hand in hand, the daughter weeping violently, the mother looking down into the coffin, showing no emotion beyond a face like marble. She stood motionless for what seemed a very long time to the anxious friends about her. There was not a dry eye in the room, and strong men wept as they gazed upon the touching scene.
The mournful procession that moved out of the cottage was led by Mrs. Garfield, who leaned upon the arm of her son Harry. She was clad in heavy mourning, her veil almost entirely concealing her face from view. As the train moved slowly away, a passing glimpse of her face was seen as she gazed upon the windows of the room where her husband had died. Loving hearts were all about her, but she was thinking of him: there was no panacea for her pain. Had there been, the touching demonstrations of sorrow at every point along the road to Washington would have brought it. The school-children gathered in groups at the various stations, weeping as they stood with uncovered heads; the country people gathered in groups, with bared heads; the tolling of bells and emblems of mourning everywhere moved the observers to tears. At Princeton Junction the College students scattered flowers along the track. At Washington, where the feeling was intense, and where every possible expression had been given to the grief of the people, the funeral train was received by the army and navy officials and thousands of citizens.
Mrs. Garfield and her children became the guests of Attorney-General MacVeagh, and remained there during her stay in Washington. She went to the White House the day preceding her departure to remove her husband’s papers, her friends having packed her possessions for her the preceding day. Upon entering the room in which her husband so long lay ill she grew deathly pale, but maintained her self-composure, andgratefully noticed the flowers with which some kind soul had decorated the bed in anticipation of her coming.
The body of the President lay in state in the Capitol from Wednesday morning until the following Friday afternoon. Mrs. Garfield visited it there on Thursday, and viewed the face for the last time. When the throngs of people pressing about the entrances from every side understood the reason for which the doors had been closed, they waited in silence and patiently until they were opened again.
Leaning on General Swaim’s arm, and followed by her son and daughter, Mr. MacVeagh and others, Mrs. Garfield entered the building, the guards concealing themselves behind the columns and draperies or standing with their faces to the wall. When the rotunda was reached she entered it alone, those with her waiting outside until she returned. For twenty minutes she remained with her dead, and when she came out she carried in her hand a flower she had taken from the coffin. On the casket rested the magnificent wreath presented by Queen Victoria through the British Legation, and about it on all sides were countless designs. The wreath from the Queen was composed of white and Marshal Niel roses, on a base of smilax, and the inscription was, “Queen Victoria to the memory of the late President Garfield; an expression of her sorrow and sympathy with Mrs. Garfield and the American nation.â€
Tributes were there from old friends, from organizations and municipal authorities, and all were taken atMrs. Garfield’s request to Mentor to be preserved for her children, for whom she desired to keep them. Some of the devices were of great beauty and fine workmanship, but none seemed to touch the emotions of the people so deeply as the offering of England’s Queen to America’s widow.
The start to Cleveland was made Friday afternoon, after the funeral in the Capitol. President Arthur, the two ex-Presidents Grant and Hayes, and the Cabinet of President Garfield, together with former members of Cabinets, General Hancock, who accompanied the remains to Cleveland, as did General Sherman and thousands of the residents of Washington, followed the hearse to the depot. The Capitol gave up all that was mortal of President Garfield with manifestations of sorrow that showed how deeply he had been loved and honored during his life there.
Through every town and hamlet that the mourning train passed, the beautiful affection of the people was shown. Mrs. Garfield, more composed than on the journey from Long Branch, looked out upon the crowds and the sable draperies, and expressed herself as thankful for the sympathy manifested. At one town, where the train stopped, some one offered to pull down the curtain, but she declined the service, saying she loved to look at the dear people.
The scenes at Cleveland on the arrival of the train, during Sunday, and on Monday, the 21st, the day of the funeral, can never be pictured by pen. The motherof the dead President, his sisters and brother, and the relatives and old neighbors, were waiting for the coming of the cortege, and Mrs. Garfield was reunited to her three sons, James having reached Cleveland from Williams College previous to her arrival. The reception procession through the streets to the pavilion catafalque erected upon Monument Square was an imposing one. Thousands of people viewed the coffin as it rested upon the structure appropriately draped from base to dome with black and white crape. The two carloads of flowers that decorated the interior of the pavilion were sent from Cincinnati, and this temple for the dead was an honor to the willing hands and loving hearts that had fashioned it. No more beautiful structure ever held the body of the revered dead.
Mrs. Garfield, who had not attended the funeral at the Capitol in Washington, had expressed her desire to take part in the last honors paid to her husband, and the committee having in charge the arrangements had assigned to her use the interior of the temple beside the coffin, and well screened by the flowers from the public gaze. She rode in the procession to the catafalque and was seated there between the only brother of the President and his aged mother. Her children were about her, and the members of the Cabinet and their wives, General Swaim and wife, Colonel Rockwell and wife, Secretary Brown, ex-President and Mrs. Hayes and others. After all had been given seats, the mother, supported by a lady friend, walked up to thecoffin, and laid her face upon the fastened lid. She stood there for a short time weeping and praying softly, while the people about stood in silence, uncovered, and with sympathy in every heart. After the funeral services, performed by Dr. Errett, Bishop Bedell, and Dr. Houghton, Dr. Errett preaching the funeral oration at the request of Mrs. Garfield, in accordance with an old compact made between himself and General Garfield, the long procession moved to the cemetery. The streets were filled with people; the crossings were decorated with mourning emblems of all descriptions; superb flowers, the offerings of various towns and cities, outlining many beautiful designs. At the cemetery the troops formed in a half diamond in front of the vault, and into the space between them and the vault, the funeral car, drawn by twelve coal-black horses, was driven. The ground was covered with flowers and evergreens. Mrs. Garfield’s carriage was driven into the centre of the court formed by the troops, and in it were seated the widow and mother of the President, Harry, James and little Abe Garfield. The two eldest sons alighted and stood at either end of the vehicle. Miss Mollie Garfield and her brother Irwin were in the next carriage, and Secretary Blaine’s came next and took up a position near Mrs. Garfield’s carriage. A number of prominent gentlemen, Secretary Blaine, ex-President Hayes, ex-Secretary Evarts, General Swaim, Colonel Corbin, and others, and the officiating clergymen, were grouped about the vault door. The marines bore upon their shouldersthe coffin, and as they passed in front of the carriage, a stifled sob broke from Mrs. Garfield. Rev. J. H. Jones made an address; President Garfield’s favorite ode, the 22d ode of Horace, was sung; a prayer was offered, and General Swaim and Colonel Rockwell escorted Harry and James into the vault to look for the last time upon the casket containing all that was earthly of their father. The door was closed and all was over.
The day succeeding the funeral, Mrs. Garfield, accompanied by Mother Garfield, her children, Colonel Rockwell, General Swaim and their wives, and Private Secretary Brown, went to Mentor in the mourning car that conveyed her from Long Branch.
Through all the trying scenes of the drama, now closed forever, Mrs. Garfield had so conducted herself that the nation was proud of her as the wife of its President, and the grief of the people was mitigated by their admiration of her bravery and heroism under circumstances that would have crushed the majority of women. And looking back at the tragedy from the day the President was shot, through the eighty-two days of his sufferings, through the death-scene, and even to the end, the country saw no act, heard no remark of Mrs. Garfield’s that was not ennobling and beautiful. On every occasion, through every crisis, and for a week after the death, while she was constantly passing from one painful interview or scene to another, she was the same quiet, self-controlled woman. Her husband had said of her that he never knew her to be stampeded; thatshe could not be thrown into a panic, and right nobly she vindicated the truth of his saying. Her courage was indomitable, and her composure so great that she was an enigma to many of her own sex. Much of her self-control was due to her unselfishness. She thought of others when she was the greatest sufferer, and met the requirements made upon her with a self-possession that led many to believe she would break down utterly when the excitement was over.
At Long Branch the evening after the President’s death she sent for all the wives of the members of the Cabinet, and in her own room she thanked them for their presence and active sympathy during the trying weeks since her husband was stricken. She told them that their kind words of encouragement had helped to sustain her own fortitude which was so necessary to the sufferer, and spoke of conversations with her husband before the fatal relapse in August, in which he had expressed himself in the tenderest terms regarding the members of his official family and their wives. He loved them as brothers and sisters, and was sure they loved him. Then with a sweet tenderness of manner she assured them that one of the sharp sorrows she was suffering was the knowledge that the ties so pleasant were to be severed, and that she was to see them about her no more.
All the beautiful memories that people treasure of her to-day were created by her in like acts. When she got to Cleveland, where the sight of so many familiarfaces brought anew the realizing sense of her loss, she forgot herself in thinking of others. Her first act was to visit Mother Garfield, and comfort her as only she could, and to offer her sympathy to the sorrowing sisters and brother of her husband. She visited the cemetery and viewed the spot selected for the grave of the President, and made the people of Cleveland proud that they had given it to her, by her satisfaction with it. The spirit of peace and love seemed to be with her and sustain her, even back to the home she had left under such different circumstances. Into it followed the affection of a nation of people, and across the water came tokens of tenderness from many sources.
The Queen, whose womanly sympathy for Mrs. Garfield made her dear to the American people, sent her at her home a message which, with its reply, was as follows. The message was sent to Minister Lowell, who transmitted it to Secretary Blaine.
“I have received the following telegram from the Queen: ‘Would you express my sincere condolence to the late President’s mother, and inquire after her health, as well as after that of Mrs. Garfield.’ Her Majesty adds: ‘I should be thankful if you would procure me a good photograph of General Garfield.’â€
Acting Secretary Hitt returned the following reply, with the request that a fitting communication should be made to Her Majesty:
“Your telegram expressing the compassion of the Queen for the mother of the late President was dulyforwarded to Mrs. Garfield, at Mentor, Ohio. Have just received the following reply: ‘Please request Mr. Lowell to express to Her Majesty, the Queen, the grateful acknowledgments of the mother of General Garfield, and my own for the tender, womanly sympathy she has been pleased to send; also that Her Majesty’s wish will be complied with at an early day.’