Candice Millard. Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine, and the Murder of a President.
New York: Doubleday 2012.
As reviewed by Ted Odenwald
The death of President James Garfield in 1881 was both senseless and tragic. It was senseless because the shooting served no purpose. “It had not been carried out in the name of personal or political freedom, national unity, or even war. It had addressed no wrong, been the consequence of no injustice.” It had been the irrational act of a delusional man. The death was also senseless in that had the President received reasonable medical care, he would probably have survived his wound. Candice Millard asserts that had Garfield received no treatment at all, he would have had a better chance of survival. His death at age 50 was especially tragic because he seemed to be the leader that the country needed to escape the lingering shadows of the Civil War; he was honest, intelligent, impervious to political pressures and corruption, and genuinely concerned about the equality and welfare of all citizens.
Garfield’s rise to the presidency was remarkable and inspirational; born and raised in abject poverty, he worked to support his family while also focusing on his education. A brilliant, hard-working student, he attended Western Reserve and Williams College. A gifted speaker, he was elected to the state senate in 1855. At the onset of the Civil War, he entered as a colonel in the 42nd regiment of Ohio, eventually being promoted to brigadier general. President Lincoln asked him to resign his commission and run for congress; Lincoln needed congressional support, particularly from men who shared his feelings on the abolition of slavery. Having served in congress for 17 years, Garfield rose to prominence at the Republican National convention in 1880. In an eloquent nominating speech for fellow Ohioan, John Freeman, Garfield won the hearts of the delegates as “he called for balanced, reasoning concern for the destiny of the republic.” After a bitter series of ballots and political maneuverings, the exhausted, contentious factions compromised by selecting Garfield, who had no ambition to serve. In fact, “the presidency seemed to him not a great accomplishment but a ‘bleak mountain’ that he had to ascend.” His imposing presence, modesty, and earnestness earned him the strong support of his party.
Garfield’s actions in his short-lived presidency provided much hope for a country needing to escape its painful past of war and corruption. He refused to be influenced by New York’s senior senator, Roscoe Conkling, a powerful, flamboyant power broker. Garfield disregarded the senator’s well established system of patronage by appointing a qualified and honest judge to run the New York Customs House, the country’s main port of entry. The President also was an advocate of equal rights, focusing particularly upon the unresolved issues of the Civil War and Reconstruction. He insisted on cooperation from the southern states, which still “seethed with hatred and resentment and dreamed of secession.” He promised that he would govern compassionately while helping to strengthen them economically—but that they had to grant equal rights to all people, no matter what their race.
Charles Guiteau, the assassin, probably should have been institutionalized long before he shot Garfield in the back. While many of his actions required “method,” there was always madness in them. He was convinced that he was one of God’s chosen—a belief reinforced by his survival of a horrific collision of two steamships in Long Island Sound. He swaggered and swindled his way through a lifetime of hare-brained schemes. He joined the Oneida community, a utopian society, to escape a shallow and ridiculing society, only to find himself chastised for repeated shows of egotism and conceit. His constant mishandling of money revealed that there was something wrong; he frequently borrowed –without repaying—from family, friends, and mere acquaintances; he repeatedly moved from hotel to boarding house to apartment, disappearing as soon as pressure was put upon him for paying the rent—which he seldom paid. Having read some books, he passed an oral “bar exam,” which qualified him to practice law; but his attempts at representing clients were disastrous as he was more concerned with impressing people than he was in presenting evidence. He sought backing to purchase a major Chicago newspaper, believing that he could influence local and national politics. He became a self-anointed itinerant evangelist—until he lost the spirit, i.e., he couldn’t earn enough money. Believing himself a gifted orator who could win the national election for the Republican party, he wrote a speech endorsing U.S. Grant; but when Garfield was nominated, Guiteau changed the speech, inserting the surprise candidate’s name. He pestered high-ranking officials to assist him in obtaining a prestigious political appointment—to no avail. Finally, angered that the President had ignored “God’s Chosen,” Guiteau determined to kill Garfield to save the party and the country.
Perhaps the sanest thing about Guiteau was his defense at his trial: he claimed that he had not killed the President; the doctors had. Millard’s research asserts that the Garfield was doomed as soon as he fell to the floor of the Baltimore and Potomac terminal—doomed not by a fatal wound, but by unsanitary treatment by doctors. On the filthy floor, Dr. Smith Townsend inserted his unsterilized finger into the wound, searching for the bullet, probably introducing infection. A cabinet member summoned Dr. Willard Bliss, who had attempted 16 years earlier to save President Lincoln. Dr. Bliss took full control immediately, setting off a series of decisions and actions that led to septicemia—a massive infection that killed Garfield. Repeatedly inserting unsterilized fingers and probes, Bliss ignored the lessons of British surgeon, Joseph Lister, whose techniques of “antisepsis” had greatly reduced the number of deadly infections introduced through surgery. As Garfield suffered frequent bouts of vomiting, profuse sweating, and rapid weight loss, Dr. Bliss tried to strengthen him by feeing him rich food, despite warnings from the President’s personal physician that Garfield had a history of serious gastric trouble. When other physicians offered their services, Bliss insisted that they perform only nursing duties.
Inventor Alexander Graham Bell worked feverishly to assemble a machine that would locate the bullet. Results were inconclusive because Bliss insisted on manipulating the machine himself—and only in the area where he assumed the bullet to be. The autopsy revealed that the doctor was wrong. In all likelihood, Bell’s invention was too late to save the President for the infection was too widely spread; however, Bliss’s controlling behavior with regard to this assistance was typical of his mindset throughout the two months of physical torture for the President.
James Garfield died in great pain, succumbing to septicemia. He appears to have been a bright, talented, humble, and honest leader who possessing the makings of a great president. He was determined to bring honor and honesty back to the government—and peace and equality to the citizens. Tragically, he was senselessly wounded by a mentally unstable ne’er-do-well. Even more tragically, he was killed as a result of medical ignorance and professional stubbornness.
Ted Odenwald and his wife, Shirley have lived in Oakland for 42 years. He taught HS English at Glen Rock High School for all of those years plus one more. Now he is enjoying time spent with his family, singing in the North Jersey Chorus and quenching his wanderlust. Ted is also the Worship Leader at the Ramapo Valley Baptist Church in Oakland.