Julia Sand – Letter 1

Context
On July 2, 1881, President James Garfield – only four months into his term – was shot in the back at a train station in Washington, DC. The assassin, Charles Guiteau, was a disgruntled office-seeker who felt entitled to a government job. Because Garfield was of the Republican “Half-Breed” faction that believed government bureaucracy positions should be appointed based on merit, Guiteau came to believe Garfield stood in his way of a job. On the other hand, Vice President Chester Arthur came from the “Stalwart” faction of the Republican Party that believed in handing out government jobs based on connections and favors. These two factions represented the two sides on the issue of Civil Service Reform. Guiteau convinced himself that killing President Garfield would be a good thing for both the Republican Party and the nation as a whole.

The assassination attempt did not prove to be initially successful. Garfield survived the bullets, but was sent to his sick bed. As the summer progressed, his condition worsened, leading the country to realize he likely would not make it. All eyes turned to Vice President Chester Arthur, who had built up a reputation of corruption throughout his career. Many openly questioned if Arthur and his political boss, Roscoe Conkling, had perhaps been involved in the plot to kill Garfield. Though this ultimately proved to not be true, there was little hope among the people that Arthur could be a good or capable president. It was in this time of Garfield’s rapidly declining health, near the end of August, that Julia Sand – a 31-year-old woman in New York City – wrote her first letter to then-Vice President Chester Arthur.

Letter 1

August 27, 1881

To the Hon Chester A. Arthur.

The hours of Garfield’s life are numbered – before this meets your eye, you may be President. The people are bowed in grief; but – do you realize it? – not so much because he is dying, as because you are his successor. What President ever entered office under circumstances so sad! The day he was shot, the thought rose in a thousand minds that you might be the instigator of the foul act. Is not that a humiliation which cuts deeper than any bullet can pierce? Your best friends said: “Arthur must resign – he cannot accept office, with such a suspicion resting upon him.” And now your kindest opponents say: “Arthur will try to do right” – adding gloomily – “He won’t succeed, though – making a man President cannot change him.”

But making a man President can change him! At a time like this, if anything can, that can. Great emergencies awaken generous traits which have lain dormant half a life. If there is a spark of true nobility in you, now is the occasion to let it shine. Faith in your better nature forces me to write to you – but not to beg you to resign. Do what is more difficult & more brave. Reform! It is not the proof of highest goodness never to have done wrong – but it is a proof of it, sometime in one’s career, to pause & ponder, to recognize the evil, to turn resolutely against it & devote the remainder of our life to that only which is pure & exalted. Such resolutions of the soul are not common. No step towards them is easy. In the humdrum drift of daily life, they are impossible. But once in a while there comes a crisis which renders miracles feasible. The great tidal wave of sorrow which has rolled over the country, has swept you loose from your old moorings & set you on a mountain top, alone. As President of the United States – made such by no election, but by a national calamity – you have no old associations, no personal friends, no political ties, you have only your duty to the people at large. You are free – free to be as able & as honorable as any man who ever filled the presidential chair.

Your past – you know best what it has been. You have lived for worldly things.. fairly or unfairly, you have won them. You are rich, powerful – tomorrow, perhaps you will be President. And what is it all worth? Are you peaceful – are you happy? What if a few days hence the hand of the next unsatisfied ruffian should lay you low, & you should drag through months of weary suffering, in the White House, knowing that all over the land not a prater was uttered in your behalf, not a tear shed, that the great American people was glad to be rid of you – would not worldly honors seem rather empty then?

Make such things impossible. Rise to the emergency. Disappoint our fears. Force the nation to have faith in you. Show from the first that you have none but the purest aims. It may be difficult to inspire confidence, but persevere. In time – when you have given reason for it – the country will love & trust you. If any man says: “With Arthur for President, Civil Service Reform is doomed,” prove that Arthur can be its finest champion. Do not thrust on the people politicians who have forfeited their respect – no matter how near they may be to you as personal friends. Do not remove any man from you unnecessarily. Appoint those only of marked ability & of sterling character. Such may not be abundant, but you will find them if you seek them. You are far too clever to be easily deceived. In all your policy, have but the highest motives. With the lamp of patriotism in your hand, your feet will not be likely to stumble.

Do you care for applause? Of course, you have had it – after a fashion. Perhaps from the dregs of the populace, inspired by the lowest of politicians. Possibly it pleased you at the time – it may have served some purpose that you valued then. But now, in the depths of your soul, do you not despise it? Would not one heartfelt “God bless you!” from the honest and true among your countrymen, be worth ten thousand times more? You can win such blessings, if you will.

Your name now is on the annals of history. You cannot slink back into obscurity, if you would. A hundred years hence, school boys will recite your name in the list of presidents & tell of your administration. And what shall posterity say? It is for you to choose whether your record shall be written in black or in gold. For the sake of your country, for your own sake & for the sakes of all who have ever loved you, let it be pure & bright.

As one of the people over whom you are to be President, I make you this appeal. Perhaps you have received many similar. If not, still believe that this expresses the thoughts in many minds, the anxieties in many hearts, today – & do not give those who have had faith in you, cause for regret.

Yours respectfully,

Julia I. Sand