Destiny of the Republic

Millard picks up Garfield’s story again in this chapter, describing his inauguration and the days leading up to it. Garfield knew the presidency would present a trial that would take uncommon strength to manage. From the moment of his selection to be the nominee, the party’s two factions–the Stalwarts and the Half-Breeds–had been at odds to obtain the upper hand. Providing the greatest trouble for Garfield was Senator Conkling of New York, who had enough power to interfere with new president’s agenda. For example, Garfield had hoped to reach out to both factions in an attempt to unite the party and offered a number of posts in his administration to Stalwarts, only to have them withdraw their names at Conkling’s bidding. Likewise, the Half-Breeds interfered with his efforts at unity out of their hatred for the Stalwarts. People Garfield considered to be allies thwarted his plans: “The Capitol building, where Garfield had spent seventeen years of his life, suddenly seemed a snake pit, a place where vicious, small-minded men lay in wait, ready to attack at the first sign of weakness” (93).

Another problem for Garfield was his vice president, Chester Arthur. Garfield had not had a say selecting his running mate; instead, his supporters had chosen Arthur because he was from New York, a state necessary to win the election, and was a protégé of Conkling’s, whose support was also necessary to win. Conkling had appointed Arthur the collector of the New York Customs House, a powerful position with a high salary that embodied the way the spoils system worked. Garfield and others worried about Arthur’s selection because his Custom House position was the only public office he had ever held. Even Conkling was against it at first, until he realized that having Arthur in the White House meant he could exert greater control over the presidency. 

This chapter deals with Garfield’s early days as president and the spoils systems that consumed so much of his time. He and his family, including his mother, moved into the White House, and he was pleased to be able to work near to them, unlike in the past. He was an attentive father and wanted to spend as much time as possible with his children. His wife, Lucretia, busied herself with planning renovations of the White House, which had become neglected and worn down over time.

A large portion of the president’s time was taken by meeting with office seekers. Three hours out of his daily schedule was used for this purpose. Although he had a private secretary, a young man named Joseph Stanley Brown, to manage the flow, Garfield himself was obliged to meet with those seeking a position in the administration. Millard explains that little protection was offered the president at this time–even after President Lincoln’s assassination. The Secret Service had been created, but its funding fluctuated and the duties of its men had not evolved to the point that they acted as bodyguards to the president. Nor did Garfield feel he needed it, as he regarded the office seekers as harmless. Although the 19th century offered examples of assassinations throughout European nations, the thinking was that because Americans “had the power to choose their own head of state, there was little cause for angry rebellion” (105).

One man who had made his way to Washington looking for a job was Charles Guiteau. Beginning right after the election, he had started sending letters from New York to congratulate Garfield, telling him how much he (Guiteau) had worked on his behalf, and to ask for a position in the new administration. In fact, Guiteau had been allowed to make one short speech in New York during the campaign, and that was the entirety of his involvement in it. The day after the inauguration, Guiteau had traveled to Washington, where he joined many office seekers lining up and waiting to see the president. When he did get an appointment, he gave Garfield a copy of a speech he had written and asked for the position of minister to Paris. Afterward, as he awaited what he thought would surely be a positive answer, Guiteau became a regular visitor to the White House and its environs, so much so that Joseph Stanley Brown later said he must have seen him on fifteen occasions during that time.

Chapter 9 covers three topics: the illness that befell Garfield’s wife in May 1880, Guiteau’s continued efforts to secure a position, and the downfall of Garfield’s political rival, Senator Conkling.

First, Lucretia Garfield came down with a fever on May 3, and within one week was so ill that some feared for her life. Her temperature reached 104 degrees. The author takes this opportunity to present more background about the Garfields’ relationship and marriage. We learn that they had met at school when they were young and grew closer through a long courtship, even as Garfield was uncertain of his love for her–or, for a time, her love for him. They were very different people: where Garfield was outgoing and expressive, Lucretia was reserved and circumspect. He only learned of her true feelings for him when he returned from Williams College and she shared her diary with him. However, he was unsure of the depth of his love for her, even after they married in 1858, at times thinking their relationship was founded more on duty than on romantic love. This continued until 1864, culminating in Garfield’s affair with a newspaper reporter he met in New York. He confessed to Lucretia and asked for her forgiveness. This proved to be a turning point, however: as she dealt with his infidelity, he no longer saw her as reserved and closed but rather “strong, steady, and resilient” (118). His love for her deepened from that time forward.

While Lucretia was recuperating, Guiteau continued pressing for a job at every opportunity. He was able to stay in Washington so long without money or a job by relying on a tactic he had long used in his many travels over the years: skipping out on boarding house bills. He would stay as long as he could at one such place, promising to pay imminently, until it became too risky. Then he would slip away, his bill unpaid. For incidental expenses, he finagled loans from anyone he could, again with no intention of repaying them. Millard explains that he had always lived like this, except during a brief marriage that ended in divorce as a result of his cruel behavior towards his wife. He tried to obtain a letter of recommendation from an Illinois senator, who treated him as most people did: he said polite things, made no promises, and sent Guiteau on his way as soon as he could. One person, however, was direct and firm with Guiteau. In addition to his visits to the White House, Guiteau had been visiting the State Department to inquire about his desired consulship. On one such visit, he met with Secretary of State James Blaine, who candidly told Guiteau not to expect the position and never to speak to him again about it. From then on, Blaine became an enemy who Guiteau thought was blocking him from the president.

Meanwhile, Garfield’s political battles with Conkling came to a head over the spoils system. Garfield nominated a political rival of Conkling’s to the position in control of selecting the head of the New York Customs House (the same position Conkling had earlier held when he selected Chester Arthur). Conkling, who desired control of such a lucrative post at least through an associate, demanded that Garfield withdraw the nomination, but the latter refused. Conkling was then persuaded by his fellow New York senator to protest through a dramatic ploy: resign from the Senate. As they saw it, the New York state legislature would quickly vote to reinstate them, and in the meantime they would call attention to both the issue and themselves. What happened in the end, however, surprised them both. Even the New York legislature had had enough of Conkling’s antics and neither man was voted back into his former office, thus removing Garfield’s main obstacle to enacting his agenda. 

Here, the reader learns that Guiteau had what he thought was a divine inspiration to kill Garfield. This happened in mid-May, and though he was sure it was God’s message, he waited for two weeks, praying for guidance, before he decided he must do it. It was not due to a dislike of Garfield but rather to a sense of duty: “He was certain that God wanted Garfield out of the way because he was a danger to the Republican Party and, ultimately, the American people” (133).

At the beginning of June, Guiteau began to prepare by getting his papers in order, buying a pistol, and visiting the local jail, to check on its conditions (assuming that he would be sent there). He had never used a gun, so he practiced shooting along the Potomac River. Although Garfield was accessible enough at the White House, Guiteau reasoned there were too many people there. Instead, he decided to kill the president at the church he attended. On June 12, both were in attendance, and Guiteau thought about shooting from outside, as the president sat about three feet from an open window. But he let the chance pass and instead sat through the service without making an attempt. He resolved to return the following Sunday before he found out from the newspaper that Garfield and his family would be traveling by train to New Jersey that Saturday. They were headed for the shore, where it was thought the sea air would help with Lucretia’s convalescence. Guiteau was at the station, and the president and his wife walked right past him, but this time the sight of the frail Mrs. Garfield kept Guiteau from acting and he decided to wait until the president was alone.

On June 27, Garfield returned to Washington for meetings with his cabinet, before setting off again on a longer summer trip. At the final meeting on June 30, he turned to his Secretary of War, Robert Todd Lincoln, to ask an unusual question. He wanted to know if it was true that President Lincoln had had a premonition of his death in a dream, as he had heard. Secretary Lincoln confirmed that it was true and described his father’s dream for Garfield. Garfield himself had had a dream just before his inauguration that Vice President Arthur had drowned. But beyond that, Garfield had always thought that he himself would die young, a feeling that often crept upon him in the still of the night. The following night, he would likewise speak with a dinner guest about “the uncertainty of life” (143). Guiteau missed yet another opportunity that very night when Garfield left the White House alone to walk to Blaine’s house, which was several blocks away. Guiteau was sitting on a park bench across from the White House and got up to follow him. When Garfield reached his destination, Blaine came out to walk and talk with him. Guiteau followed but again did nothing. However, he resolved to finally act at the very next opportunity. 

This chapter picks up the narrative on the very next day, July 2. Millard describes the actions of both Garfield and Guiteau, as each prepares to go to the train station. The president gets his two oldest sons ready, says goodbye to Joseph Stanley Brown, his secretary, and sets out for the train station. He’s driven in a carriage by Secretary Blaine, who went to see him off, while an old friend drove his sons in the carriage that followed. When they arrive, Guiteau is there waiting for them. That morning, he had gotten up early, gone for a walk, eaten a hearty breakfast, and retrieved his gun and letters that he wanted to mail regarding what he was about to do. One letter was addressed to the White House and read, in part, “The President’s tragic death was a sad necessity, but it will unite the Republican party and save the Republic” (149). When the president enters the station, Guiteau is right behind him. He shoots once, which hits Garfield in the right arm, causing him to yell out and turn to see what had happened. As he does so, Guiteau fires again, hitting the president in the back and causing him to fall to the floor.