ROBERT D. MARCUS
James A. Garfield:
Lifting the Mask
The Garfield Orbit: The Life of
President James A. Garfield. By
Margaret
L.eech and Harry J. Brown. (New York:
Harper & Row, 1978. xi +
369p.: illustrations. notes, index. $15.00.)
Garfield. By Allan Peskin. (Kent: Kent State University Press.
1978. x +
716p.: notes, sources listed.
index. $20.00.)
Had Garfield, Arthur, Harrison and Hayes
been young' Or had they all been born
with flowing whiskers, sideburns, and
wing collars, speaking gravely from the
cradle of their mother's arms the noble
vacant sonorities of far-seeing statesman-
ship? It could not be. Had they not all
been young men in the'Thirties. the'Forties,
and the 'Fifties? Did they not, as we.
cry out at night along deserted roads into
demented winds'? Did they not, as we,
cry out in ecstasy and exultancy, as the full
measure of their hunger, their potent
and inchoate hope, went out into that single
wordless cry'?
Along with other political leaders of
the Gilded Age these "Four Lost
Men" of whom Thomas Wolfe writes
have again become the source of a
flourishing historical industry. The men
that Matthew Josephson collec-
tively and disparagingly referred to in
1938 as "The Politicos" are one by
one having their historical reputations
refurbished -perhaps regilded-in
massive and scholarly biographies. Two
new books on James A. Garfield,
Civil War hero, Republican leader in the
House of Representatives, and
briefly President in 1881, are
distinguished contributions to this effort.
"For who was Garfield, martyred
man, and who had seen him in the streets
of life'? Who could believe his
footfalls ever sounded on a lonely pave-
ment'?" One can assure the Wolfean romantic
that James A. Garfield. he of
the "flowing whiskers" and the
"noble vacant sonorities of far-seeing
statesmanship," had indeed cried
out "in ecstasy and exultancy" as a young
Robert D. Marcus is Associate Professor
of History and Dean for Undergraduate Studies
at State University of New York at Stony
Brook.
1. Thomas Wolfe. "The Four lost
Men." From Death to Morning (New York. 1935), 126
James A. Garfield 79 |
|
man. He was real; he was interesting; and in these books we can hear him cry. Allan Peskin's Garfield and Margaret Leech and Harry J. Brown's curiously titled The Garfield Orbit have quite different virtues. Both are works of splendid scholarship, though Peskin's is the traditional full biography destined to be the standard account of the life and public works of the twentieth President. The Garfield Orbit on the other hand is a fragment of Margaret Leech's projected full-scale biography, briefly and rather dryly completed after her death by Harry J. Brown, co-editor of Garfield's diaries. Focusing on Garfield's personal life, particularly his relationships with women, the first six of Leech's eight chapters are a masterful response to Wolfe's-and the twentieth century reader's- demand for a reality behind the bearded Gilded Age image. In sometimes over-rich almost nineteenth century prose ("She quickly freed herself and ran from the cause of such indecorous excitement."), the author penetrates with twentieth century psychological acuity her hero's development and character. Leech's two chapters on the war are inferior to the more complete and interesting account Peskin offers, and Brown's two chapters on Garfield's political career are far too thin to compete in any way with Peskin's detailed, careful and informed narrative. The picture that emerges here does not substantially alter Garfield's |
80 ()O10
HISTORY
historical reputation as a weak,
indecisive man whose career was marred by
a series of allegations against his
character, few of which stuck fast but none
of which quite came off clean. Did
Garfield betray his friend and command-
er General William S. Rosecrans in 1863?
Was he false to John Sherman in
1880? Did he make deals with Roscoe
Conkling and the "stalwarts" in 1880
and break them in 1881? Did he profit
from the Credit Mohilier? In short,
was this president a crook?
In Peskin's well-balanced view Garfield
was never as guilty as his enemies
alleged nor as innocent as he or his
friends protested. In fact, Peskin
unearths several shady deals and
conflicts of interest in addition to those
which were the subject of contemporary
partisan debate. He also abun-
dantly documents Garfield's
indecisiveness and James G. Blaine's remarka-
ble domination over him. Nonetheless
Peskin correctly argues that Gar-
field's ethical standards were normal
for his age and acceptable in the
political culture of his time. His
"vacillation." Peskin thinks, indicated
open-mindedness and discomfort with the
fierce partisanship of late
nineteenth century political life.
Stressing Garfield's voracious reading and
wide-ranging interest, he suggests that
Garfield was an early version of the
intellectual in politics, precursor of a
characteristic twentieth-century type.
In addition, Peskin identifies
Garfield's years of work on the House
Appropriations Committee with the
modernization of the federal bureau-
cracy that Leonard D. White2 has
suggested began to occur in this period.
Garfield had a passion for statistics,
spending long hours on the details of
appropriations bills and investing a
huge amount of time in modernizing
the United States Census.
Although Peskin quite correctly
reevaluates the Garfield "politico"
stereotype. he fails to place the
twentieth president in the context of other
Gilded Age leaders who, like him, built
their political careers around
complicated issues requiring intense
study and expertise, not merely
partisanship. The two other Ohio
Republicans who distinguished them-
selves in national politics, John
Sherman and William McKinley, shared
Garfield's fascination with numbers and
sought in the intricacies of public
finance and tariff schedules a role
elevated above the worn partisan themes
of civil war and reconstruction. Perhaps
such interests do not quite make
one an intellectual in politics (and
neither McKinley nor Sherman had
Garfield's extra-political intellectual
pursuits), but they do suggest a certain
remove and even discomfort with the
political style of the era. Garfield was
an uncomfortable partisan although he
surely was a partisan. Similarly,
Sherman was a wholly uncomfortable
politician, cold and remote, but
nonetheless a politician through and
through: and McKinley, straightfor-
2. Leonard D. White. The Republican
Era, 1869-1901.: A Studl in Administrative History
(New York, 1958).
James A. Garfield 81
ward party man that he was, managed to
project an aura of morality that
men like Mark Hanna worshiped. These men
marked the hard center of the
Republican party, the pivot turning the
party first to the East and then to
the West, now to its wartime roots, now
to its industrial future. The epithet
"politico" is insufficient to
describe these flexible moralists, these above-
the-battle partisans, who became
cultural idols for the party faithful.
Peskin is right to take seriously both
Garfield's party role and his distaste
for partisanship. Both were necessary to
make him the available man in
1880.
Garfield's availability, the fit between
his career and character and the
political needs of the time, is the most
interesting thing about him, far more
significant than his impact on public
policy. Peskin makes a valiant effort
to establish the importance of
Garfield's administration, claiming that "as a
party leader [Garfield], along with
Blaine forged the Republican Party into
the instrument that would lead the
United States into the 20th Century."
This judgment rests primarily on
Garfield's assertion of the power of the
executive against Roscoe Conkling's
claims of senatorial courtesy. Peskin,
I think, exaggerates Garfield's role.
Hayes had hammered away at the
Conkling organization throughout his
administration while Conklin's New
York rivals had eroded his power in the
Empire State. Of Conkling's three
chief henchmen, Chester Arthur violated
his wishes by becoming the vice-
presidential candidate; Thomas C. Platt
had already made agreements with
Conkling's enemies that would have
forced him to betray Conkling had he
not instead resigned from the Senate in
1881; Alonzo B. Cornell early
infuriated Conkling by demanding an
accommodation with the new
administration. In other words, Garfield
triumphed over an already fading
power, and then only after Blaine had
forced him into it. In the history of
the growth of the American presidency,
Garfield's administration merits
but a sentence, and one laden with
qualifiers.
Garfield's life, however, retains an
intrinsic interest. It provided fertile
material for campaign biographies: his
birth in a log cabin, his boyhood on
the Western Reserve, his work on a canal
towpath, his experience in the
Civil War, his ability to defend his
honor against attacks on his morality.
H is death, after an inconclusive few
months as president, produced genuine
national mourning. Even his demented
assassin felt the tug of Garfield's
appeal: "Garfield was a good man,
but a weak politician," was Charles
Guiteau's appraisal. Why was Garfield,
despite his limited achievements, so
appealing to his generation? U
nfortunately Peskin's massively documented
biography lacks the psychological
penetration to tell us. We see something
of the private Garfield, much of the
public one, but nothing to answer
Wolfe's ironic question, to suggest how
the dreams and passions of the
antebellum era-of which Garfield was so
full-led to such a thin con-
clusion in the postwar years.
82 1110O HISTORY |
|
Garfield himself provided many clues. Few nineteenth century Americans left behind such detailed records. Garfield's diaries and correspondence are those of a would-be writer who treasures every scrap of experience in case it will some day be useful for a novel or an essay. Hidden within the politician was a second Garfield. the shadow of a young man such as Thomas Wolfe had envisoned. Behind the lifelong sense of destiny which led him to high office was a perpetual vulnerability that made Garfield see his own life as merely "a series of accidents, mostly of a favorable nature." This duality must have reflected and interpreted his generation's experience for a large audience. The unusually thorough record of his inner as well as his public life should offer clues to the transition from "the young men in the 'Thirties, the 'Forties, and the 'Fifties" to the "gravely vacant and bewhiskered faces" of the Gilded Age. Margaret Leech's account of Garfield's youth does offer some of the insight lacking in Peskin's work, although The Garfield Orbit's incomplete state again frustrates the attempt to grasp the figure whole. Leech subtly captures the young Garfield's sense of boundless destiny that jarred so often with the sense of embarrassment he felt over the poverty and "chaos" (his own word) of his childhood. The torments of the young provincial have rarely been so well described. (In fact, one is reminded strongly of the novels of Thomas Wolfe!) Garfield sees education as the opportunity to |
James A. Garfield 83
"rise above the groveling
herd": his first letter home is headed "First Epistle
of James." Religion is something
between a shield and a weapon. Among
the Campbellite Baptists-he became a
convert at age nineteen-his
sanctity helps compensate for his
poverty. He attributes the "taunts, jeers,
and cold, averted looks" of others
to sectarian bickering.
Religion and education mediate his
initiation into both sex and poli-
tics. He learns to speak, to persuade,
to draw people to him. Religious
exhortation moves him imperceptibly into
antislavery politics so that
Garfield is left with a sense of
superiority over his brethren, not the guilt of
backsliding. Similarly, holy affections
ascend to carnal ones: Thomas
Wolfe would have sighed with relief had
he known of Garfield's elevated
but erotic affair with fellow
Campbellite Rebecca Jane Selleck. The
portrait of Garfield as a platonizing
Baptist rake is a classic piece of
American social history: no one has ever
captured more successfully the
highly developed nineteenth century
American capacity to violate one's
moral code without violating one's
conscience. Leech's account ends before
the reader can realize fully the effect
on Garfield of his Civil War expe-
rience. Secession relieved him of his
religious pacifism. The war itself
seemed to transform his moralism into a
sword. Like so many of his
generation, intense battle experience in
a just cause sharpened his belief in
the ultimate righteousness of his
emotions and ambitions. One of his first
business ventures, even before the war
ended, involved trading on his
reputation as the "hero of the
Sandy Valley" of Tennessee to sell land in his
field of triumph in a way that Peskin
correctly describes as close to an "out-
and-out swindle." Garfield's career
is perhaps a case study in the capacity of
war to produce moral exhaustion-although
one can clearly see the origin
of the older, morally dubious Garfield
in Leech's picture of the lively young
man.
The large heroisms of war made it hard
to respect the small heroisms that
make up daily life. The romantic tone of
the pre-war years faded behind the
masks that puzzled Wolfe. And this
generation, as Ari Hoogenboom has
noted, made the symbolism exact by
sprouting beards at the outset of the
war, literally downing masks. Of course
beards really have nothing to do
with the matter. One reads the memoirs
of bright and vivid young women
like Julia Bundy Foraker and Mary Logan,
and there too one sees a similar
transformation. Eager, ambitious young
women ready to grasp the world
become dowagers attending balls,
dropping names, and remembering who
wore what. Perhaps to understand this
generation we must forget Oliver
Wendell Holmes' excited phrase(which
Peskin quotes) that in the war "our
hearts were touched with fire," and
look ahead to Ernest Hemingway.
Perhaps the "four lost men"
were another earlier lost generation. These two
fine books, particularly the magnificent
early chapters of The Garfield
Orbit, take us part of the way toward finding these lost
Americans.
ROBERT D. MARCUS
James A. Garfield:
Lifting the Mask
The Garfield Orbit: The Life of
President James A. Garfield. By
Margaret
L.eech and Harry J. Brown. (New York:
Harper & Row, 1978. xi +
369p.: illustrations. notes, index. $15.00.)
Garfield. By Allan Peskin. (Kent: Kent State University Press.
1978. x +
716p.: notes, sources listed.
index. $20.00.)
Had Garfield, Arthur, Harrison and Hayes
been young' Or had they all been born
with flowing whiskers, sideburns, and
wing collars, speaking gravely from the
cradle of their mother's arms the noble
vacant sonorities of far-seeing statesman-
ship? It could not be. Had they not all
been young men in the'Thirties. the'Forties,
and the 'Fifties? Did they not, as we.
cry out at night along deserted roads into
demented winds'? Did they not, as we,
cry out in ecstasy and exultancy, as the full
measure of their hunger, their potent
and inchoate hope, went out into that single
wordless cry'?
Along with other political leaders of
the Gilded Age these "Four Lost
Men" of whom Thomas Wolfe writes
have again become the source of a
flourishing historical industry. The men
that Matthew Josephson collec-
tively and disparagingly referred to in
1938 as "The Politicos" are one by
one having their historical reputations
refurbished -perhaps regilded-in
massive and scholarly biographies. Two
new books on James A. Garfield,
Civil War hero, Republican leader in the
House of Representatives, and
briefly President in 1881, are
distinguished contributions to this effort.
"For who was Garfield, martyred
man, and who had seen him in the streets
of life'? Who could believe his
footfalls ever sounded on a lonely pave-
ment'?" One can assure the Wolfean romantic
that James A. Garfield. he of
the "flowing whiskers" and the
"noble vacant sonorities of far-seeing
statesmanship," had indeed cried
out "in ecstasy and exultancy" as a young
Robert D. Marcus is Associate Professor
of History and Dean for Undergraduate Studies
at State University of New York at Stony
Brook.
1. Thomas Wolfe. "The Four lost
Men." From Death to Morning (New York. 1935), 126