Chapter XIII: Shot Down (1)

A wasp flew out upon our fairest son,
And stung him to the quick with poisoned shaft,
The while he chatted carelessly and laughed,
And knew not of the fateful mischief done.
And so this life, amid our love begun,
Envenomed by the insect’s hellish craft,
Was drunk by Death in one long feverish draught,
And he was lost—our precious, priceless one!
Oh, mystery of blind, remorseless fate!
Oh, cruel end of a most causeless hate!
That life so mean should murder life so great!
What is there left to us who think and feel,
Who have no remedy, and no appeal,
But damn the wasp and crush him under heel?—_Holland._

The Senate had adjourned. The bitterness of the political contest at Albany had subsided. Washington was deserted for the summer. Mrs. Garfield, slowly recovering from her long illness, was regaining health and courage at Long Branch. It was the purpose of the President, as soon as the pressing cares and anxieties of his great office could be put aside, to join his wife by the sea-side, and to enjoy with her a brief respite from the burdens and distractions which weighed him down. His brief life at the White House had been any thing but happy. Sickness had entered almost from the date of his occupancy. The political imbroglio in the Senate, and afterwards in New York, had greatly annoyed him. He had had the mortification of seeing, in the very first months of his administration, his party torn with feuds, and brought to the verge of disruption. The clamor for office was deafening, and he had been obliged to meet and pacify the hungry horde that swarmed like locusts around the capital. All this he had, during the spring and early summer, met with the equanimity and dignity becoming his high station. So with the coming of July he purposed to rest with his family for a brief season by the sea. Afterwards he would visit Williams College and make arrangements for the admission of his two sons to those same classic halls where his own youthful thirst for knowledge had been quenched.

On the morning of the 2d of July—fatal day in the calendar of American history—the President made ready to put his purpose into execution. Several members of the Cabinet, headed by Secretary Blaine, were to accompany him to Long Branch. A few ladies, personal friends of the President’s family and one of his sons, were of the company; and as the hour for departure drew near, they gathered at the dépôt of the Baltimore and Potomac Railway to await the train. The President and Secretary Blaine were somewhat later than the rest. On the way to the dépôt the Chief Magistrate, always buoyant and hopeful, was more than usually joyous, expressing his keen gratification that the relations between himself and the members of his Cabinet were so harmonious, and that the Administration was a unit.

When the carriage arrived at the station at half past nine o’clock, the President and Mr. Blaine left it and entered the ladies’ waiting-room, which they passed through arm in arm. A moment afterwards, as they were passing through the door into the main room two pistol shots suddenly rang out upon the air. Mr. Blaine saw a man running, and started toward him, but turned almost immediately and saw that THE PRESIDENT HAD FALLEN! It was instantly realized that the shots had been directed with fatal accuracy at the beloved President. Mr. Blaine sprang toward him, as did several others, and raised his head from the floor. Postmaster-General James, Secretary Windom, and Secretary Lincoln, who had arrived earlier at the train, were promenading on the platform outside. They, together with the policemen who were on duty in the neighborhood, immediately rushed to the spot where their fallen chief lay weltering in blood. A moment afterwards the assassin was discovered, and before he could lose himself in the crowd the miserable miscreant was confronted by the rigid, passionate faces and strong uplifted arms of those to whom their own lives were but a bauble if they might save the President. The dastardly wretch cowered before them, and in the middle of B Street, just outside of the dépôt, was seized by the policemen and disarmed. A pistol of very heavy caliber was wrenched out of his hand, and it became clear that a large ball had entered the President’s body. The assassin gave his name as Charles Jules Guiteau, and begged to be taken safely to jail. He was instantly hurried to police head-quarters and confined; and it was well for him that he was thus out of the way of the angry populace, who would not have hesitated to put an instant and tragic end to his despicable career.

The poor President was borne on a couch to a room in the second story, and a preliminary examination of his wounds was made; but the ball, which had entered the right side of his back, near the spinal column and immediately over the hip bone, could not be found. The sufferer moaned at intervals, but otherwise uttered no complaint; was conscious at all times except when under the influence of opiates, and was cheerful. When, in answer to his eager question, the physicians informed him that he had “one chance in a hundred” of living, he said calmly and bravely: “Then, doctor, we will take that chance!” Before he was removed from the dépôt his heart turned anxiously to his wife, and to her he dictated, by Colonel Rockwell, the following touching and loyal dispatch:

“_Mrs. Lucretia R. Garfield_:

“The President wishes me to say to you from him that he has been
seriously hurt. How seriously he can not yet say. He is himself, and
hopes you will come to him soon. He sends his love to you.

“A. F. ROCKWELL.”

Colonel H. C. Corbin, Assistant Adjutant-General, immediately telegraphed for a special train to convey Mrs. Garfield to Washington, and frequent dispatches, giving the latest intelligence of the President’s condition, were sent to meet her at different stations. In a few minutes after the shooting several physicians were beside the wounded President. First of those who were summoned was Dr. D. W. Bliss, who from first to last remained in charge as chief attending surgeon. Associated with him were Surgeon-General J. K. Barnes and Drs. J. J. Woodward and Robert Reyburn. It was at once determined to remove the President to the White House at the earliest practicable moment. Within a half hour preparations to that end had been made. At ten o’clock every thing was in readiness. The main room of the dépôt building was cleared, and in a few moments the wounded President was borne through the building and placed in an ambulance which was in waiting on the outside. He bore the removal with great fortitude, not uttering a complaint or groan. The ambulance was surrounded by a cordon of police, and the horses were whipped into a gallop all the way to the White House. An excited crowd followed at a run, but were stopped at the White House, and none but a select few admitted.

Meanwhile the excitement was at fever heat throughout the panic-struck city. Even before leaving the dépôt the pressure for admittance to the room where the President was lying was so great that the police could not keep back the crowd. Men persisted that they must see the President, despite the surgeons’ orders that the room and hallways must not be filled up. Upon the arrival of the ambulance at the White House the gates of the Executive grounds were immediately closed and guarded by soldiers and policemen, and nobody was admitted without authority from the President’s private secretary. Those members of the Cabinet who were not at the dépôt when the shooting took place were immediately summoned, and all of them remained in attendance at the Executive Mansion during the day.

After the President’s removal, he began to react from the first shock of the wound. Several encouraging dispatches were sent out. At 11:30 A. M. the first official bulletin was issued by the physicians in attendance. It was as follows:

“The President has returned to his normal condition. Will make
another examination soon. His pulse is now 63.”

An hour later a second bulletin was issued:

“The reaction from the shot injury has been very gradual. The
patient is suffering some pain, but it is thought best not to
disturb him by making an exploration for the ball until after the
consultation at 3 P. M.”

From that hour, however, the symptoms became unfavorable; and at 2:45 P. M. the following unofficial dispatch was issued:

“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 2:45 P. M.

“No official bulletin has been furnished by Dr. Bliss since 1
o’clock. The condition of the President has been growing more
unfavorable since that time. Internal hemorrhage is taking place,
and the gravest fears are felt as to the result.”

As yet no critical knowledge of the President’s injury had been reached. There was nothing on which the people could base a judgment of the relative probabilities of recovery and death. The shadows of evening gathered, and the darkness of night settled over fifty millions of sorrowing people.

The minds of all naturally reverted to the assassin. The hope was cherished that he would prove to be a lunatic or madman, and that the American people would thus be spared the horrid contemplation of a cold-blooded attempt against the life of the noble statesman who had been called by the voice of his countrymen to the highest place of honor. This hope, however, was soon dispelled. The assassin was found to be a mixture of fool and fanatic, who, in his previous career, had managed to build up, on a basis of total depravity, a considerable degree of scholarship. He was a lawyer by profession, and had made a pretense of practicing in several places—more particularly in Chicago. In that city and elsewhere he had made a reputation both malodorous and detestable. In the previous spring, about the time of the inauguration, he had gone to Washington to advance a claim to be Consul-General at Paris. He had sought and obtained interviews with both the President and Mr. Blaine, and pretended to believe that the former was on the point of dismissing the present consul at Paris to make a place for himself! Hanging about the Executive Mansion and the Department of State for several weeks, he seems to have conceived an intense hatred of the President, and to have determined on the commission of the crime. Unless his motive can be found in this, it would seem impossible to discover for what reason his foul and atrocious deed was committed. In the whole history of crime, it would, perhaps, be impossible to find a single example of a criminal with a moral nature so depraved and loathsome as that displayed by Guiteau in the cell to which he was consigned.

_The second day._—The morning was anxiously awaited. The first news from Washington gave grounds of hope. The President’s mind had remained clear, and his admirable courage had had a marked effect in staying his bodily powers against the fearful effects of the wound. Mrs. Garfield had, meanwhile, reached Washington, and was at her husband’s bedside. Both were hopeful against the dreadful odds, and both resolved to face the issue with unfaltering trust. In the course of the early morning the President was able to take nourishment, thus gaining a small measure of that strength so needful in the coming struggle. The morning bulletins from the attending surgeons were as follows:

“WASHINGTON, July 3, 2:45 A. M.

“The President has been quietly sleeping much of the time since 9 P.
M., awakening for a few moments every half hour. He has not vomited
since 1 A. M., and is now taking some nourishment for the first time
since his injury. Pulse, 124; temperature, normal; respiration, 18.

“D. W. BLISS, M. D.

“4 A. M.—The President has just awakened, greatly refreshed, and has
not vomited since 1 A. M., having taken milk and lime-water on each
occasion, frequently asking for it. Pulse, 120—fuller and of
decidedly more character; temperature, 98 2–10; respiration, 18. The
patient is decidedly more cheerful, and has amused himself and
watchers by telling a laughable incident of his early career.

“D. W. BLISS, M. D.

“6 A. M.—The President’s rest has been refreshing during the night,
and only broken at intervals of about half hours by occasional pain
in the feet, and to take his nourishment of milk and lime-water and
bits of cracked ice, to relieve the thirst, which has been constant.
He is cheerful and hopeful, and has from the first manifested the
most remarkable courage and fortitude.

“7:50 A. M.—This morning the physicians decide that no effort will
be made at present to extract the ball, as its presence in the
location determined does not necessarily interfere with the ultimate
recovery of the President.

“7:57 A. M.—Most of the members of the Cabinet who watched at the
Executive Mansion last night remained until a late hour this
morning.

“11 A. M.—The President’s condition is greatly improved. He secures
sufficient refreshing sleep; and, during his waking hours, is
cheerful, and is inclined to discuss pleasant topics. Pulse,
106—with more full and safe expression; temperature and respiration,
normal.

“D. W. BLISS, M. D.”

In the afternoon of the second memorable day, however, the President’s symptoms grew worse, and news well calculated to alarm was telegraphed to all parts of the country. Of one thing there could be no doubt, and that was that the heart of the Nation was stirred to its profoundest depths, and that the whole civilized world was in sympathy with the American people and their stricken head. In London the news created the profoundest sensation. The Queen, from Windsor Palace, at once telegraphed to learn the facts, and then ordered her Minister of Foreign Affairs to send the following dispatch:

“_To Sir Edward Thornton, British Embassy, Washington_: The Queen
desires that you will at once express the horror with which she has
learned of the attempt upon the President’s life, and her earnest
hope for his recovery. Her Majesty wishes for full and immediate
reports as to his condition.

LORD GRANVILLE.”

From almost every civilized nation came similar messages of sympathy. Hardly a distinguished man in America failed to go on record in some way to express his horror and detestation of the crime that had been committed. The spirit of party was utterly forgotten. The South and the North were at last as one. The old Southern soldiers who had fought many a fierce battle under Lee and Johnston, as well as the legionaries who sprang up at the call of Lincoln, burst into tears at the thought of Garfield bleeding!

The afternoon bulletins of this first sad Sunday of July were well calculated to excite apprehension. The physicians said:

“2 P. M.—The President has slept a good deal since last bulletin,
though occasionally suffering from pain in both feet and ankles.
Pulse, 104; respiration, 18; temperature, nearly normal. While the
President is by no means out of danger, yet his symptoms continue
favorable.

“D. W. BLISS, M. D.

“6 P. M.—There is no appreciable danger since last bulletin. The
President sleeps well at intervals. Pulse, 108; temperature and
respiration normal.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD.

“10:30 P. M.—The condition of the President is less favorable.
Pulse, 120; temperature, 100; respiration, 20. He is more restless,
and again complains of the pain in his feet.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

_The third day._—For the American people the morning sun of the Glorious Fourth shed only a disastrous twilight. Never before did this vast and sensitive citizenship waken to the realization of such a Fourth. In almost all parts of the country preparations had been made to observe the day with more than the usual outburst of patriotism. All this was turned to doubt and sorrow. The orator could speak of nothing but the wounded President and his probable fate. The people would hear nothing but dispatches that told of either reviving hope or coming despair. In many cities and country places the celebration was wholly abandoned; in others the ceremonies were changed so as to be in keeping with the great national calamity. The people sat down in the shadow of their grief and waited for the worst.

On the morning of the Fourth the distinguished Dr. D. Hayes Agnew, of Philadelphia, and Dr. Frank H. Hamilton, of New York City, arrived at Washington, having been called thither as consulting surgeons. On their arrival they made a critical examination of the President’s condition and the method of treatment adopted by the physicians in charge, and thereupon issued the following bulletin:

“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 8:15 A. M.

“We held a consultation with the physicians in charge of the
President’s case at 7 o’clock this morning, and approve in every
particular of the management and of the course of treatment that has
been pursued.

“FRANK H. HAMILTON, of New York.
“D. H. AGNEW, of Philadelphia.”

The regular announcement appeared at the same time and carried to the people, far as the lightning’s wings could bear it, the following message:

“8:15 A. M.—The condition of the President is not materially
different from that reported in the last bulletin (12:30 A. M.). He
has dozed at intervals during the night, and at times has complained
of the pain in his feet. The tympanitis has not sensibly increased.
Pulse, 108; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 19.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN,
“FRANK H. HAMILTON,
“D. HAYES AGNEW.”

To this bulletin was added the report of a free conversation with Dr. Bliss, in which he said of the President’s condition and prospects:

“I admit that his state is very precarious, and the balance of
probabilities is not in his favor, and yet there is reasonable
ground for hope. We can not say that he is better or worse than he
was last night, except that he has gained eight hours of time, and
his strength appears not to have declined. The symptoms of
peritoneal inflammation are not more grave now than they were eight
hours ago.”

The morning wore away in suspense, and the noonday report of the physicians was anxiously awaited. It was felt, however, that every hour now added to the President’s life was a fair indication that he would have some chance in the final struggle for recovery. Just after noon the following report was issued by the surgeons:

“12:30 P. M.—There has been but little change in the President’s
condition since the last bulletin. Complains much less of the pain
in his feet. Light vomiting occasionally. Pulse, 110; temperature,
100; respiration, 24.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Meanwhile a diagnosis of the President’s condition had been made, and though there was not entire unanimity as to the course of the ball and the consequent character of the wound, yet the physicians gave it as their opinion—some of them positively so declaring—that the ball, after striking the President’s back above the twelfth rib and about two and a half inches to the right of the spine, had plunged forward and downward, fracturing the rib, penetrating the peritoneal cavity, piercing the lower lobe of the liver, and lodging perhaps in the front wall of the abdomen. The treatment during the first week after the President was wounded was based upon this diagnosis, but gradually thereafter the idea that the ball had traversed the body in the manner indicated was abandoned and a modified theory adopted in its stead.[1]

Footnote 1:

The great error, as subsequently developed in the diagnosis of the
President’s case, seems clearly to have arisen from the fact, that
although the relative position of the assassin and his victim were
definitely ascertained and could be precisely marked on the floor of
the dépôt, yet _the axial position of the President’s body seems never
to have been considered_! It seems to have been taken for granted that
because the wound was in the back, therefore the assassin must have
stood _behind_ the President when he fired. So, in one sense, he
undoubtedly did, but in another he did not. The murderer’s position
was five feet away and _rather to the right side of the Chief
Magistrate_, and Guiteau should therefore be said to have stood at _an
acute side-angle_ and a little in the rear of his victim. This being
the real position of the President and his assailant, it will readily
be seen that the ball, instead of being “deflected,” as has been so
many times reiterated, really was very little turned from its course,
but plunged straight across the President’s back, going deeper and
deeper as it proceeded, until, having fractured the spine in front, it
was lodged in the thick tissues to the left of the vertebral column.
If the assassin had fired square at the President’s back, and the ball
had struck where it did strike, the President would have been a dead
man from the start. The axial position of the body was manifestly
overlooked in making the diagnosis.

As the Fourth wore away the fear of immediate death somewhat subsided. At half-past seven in the evening the surgeons’ bulletin carried the following message to the public:

“7:35 P. M.—The President this evening is not so comfortable. He
does not suffer so much from pain in the feet. The tympanitis is
again more noticeable. Pulse, 126; temperature, 101.9; respiration,
24. Another bulletin will be issued at 10 P. M., after which, in
order not to disturb the President unnecessarily, no further
bulletins will be issued until to-morrow morning.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Taken all in all the advices during the day respecting the President’s condition had been more encouraging than those of the day before, when despondency seemed to be making itself generally felt in Washington and throughout the country.

An unofficial bulletin at midnight—the last issued for the day—announced a further improvement, the pulse and temperature having again changed slightly for the better. At that hour the President was sleeping quietly. The peritoneal inflammation had decreased somewhat during the evening, and there was, generally speaking, a larger ground for hope. During the day from the extremes of the earth had come the profoundest expressions of sorrow for the great calamity to the Republic. From Prince Charles, of Bucharest, was received the following touching dispatch:

“BUCHAREST, CATROCINI, July 4, 1881.

“_To President Garfield, Washington_:

“I have learned with the greatest indignation, and deplore most
deeply, the horrible attempt against your precious life, and beg you
to accept my warmest wishes for your quick recovery.

CHARLES.”

On the same day from far-off Japan this message of sympathy was sent to the Minister resident of the Royal Government at Washington:

“TOKIO, July 4, 1881.

“_To Yoshida, Japanese Minister, Washington_:

“The dispatch announcing an attempt upon the life of the President
has caused here profound sorrow, and you are hereby instructed to
convey, in the name of His Majesty, to the Government of the United
States, the deepest sympathy and hope that his recovery will be
speedy. Make immediate and full report regarding the sad event.

“WOOYERO,
“Acting Minister for Foreign Affairs.”

So the sun went down upon the national anniversary, and the stars of the summer night looked upon an anxious and stricken people.

_The fourth day._—The morning of the 5th of July broke with a more cheerful message. The President was decidedly better. The improvement in his condition was noticed shortly before midnight of Monday, and had become marked. The first bulletin of the morning was so reassuring that the feeling of relief became general, and a cheerful hopefulness succeeded the dread of the previous day. The crowds of anxious people in all parts of the country returned slowly to their vocations—not, indeed, with a feeling of security, but with a good degree of hope for the President’s ultimate recovery. The members of the Cabinet experienced such a sense of relief that they were enabled to give consideration to their official duties. The President’s physicians, while not taking a sanguine view of his case, did not discourage the hope of final recovery. The President—so said the bulletins—took nourishment and retained it. His pulse was lower throughout the day, and altogether his symptoms were such as to afford no little encouragement. The first official bulletin was issued at half-past eight in the morning. It was as follows:

“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a comfortable night, and his
condition this morning is decidedly more favorable. There has been
no vomiting since last evening at 8 o’clock, and he has been able to
retain the liquid nourishment administered. There is less tympanitis
and no abdominal tenderness except in the wounded region. Pulse,
114; temperature, 100.5; respiration, 24.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Drs. Agnew and Hamilton had both, in the meantime, been called to their homes. To them the attending surgeons communicated their views of the President’s condition more fully in a message during the forenoon, as follows:

“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 9:30 A. M.

“After you left the urgent symptom continued. There was much
restlessness, constant slight vomiting, and by 8 o’clock P. M. the
President’s condition seemed even more serious than when you saw
him. Since then the symptoms have gradually become more favorable.
There has been no vomiting nor regurgitation of fluid from the
stomach since 8 o’clock last evening.

“The President has slept a good deal during the night, and this
morning expresses himself as comparatively comfortable. The
spasmodic pains in the lower extremities have entirely disappeared,
leaving behind, however, much muscular soreness and tenderness to
the touch. There is less tympanitis, and no abdominal tenderness
whatever, except in the hepatic region. Since 8 P. M. he has taken
an ounce and a-half of chicken broth every two hours, and has
retained all. The wound was again dressed antiseptically this
morning. Altogether but one-half a grain of morphia has been
administered hypodermically during the last twenty-four hours, and
it has been found quite sufficient. His pulse, however, still keeps
up. At 8:30 A. M. it was 114; temperature, 100.5; respiration, 24.
Seventy-two hours have now elapsed since the wound was received. We
can not but feel encouraged this morning, although, of course, we do
not overlook any of the perils that still beset the path toward
recovery. The course of treatment agreed upon will be steadily
pursued.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

In the course of the day the feeling of confidence grew apace. There were not wanting many grave apprehensions, the most serious of all being the fear that the dreaded peritonitis would set in and destroy the President’s life. But the hours crept by, and no symptoms of such inflammation appeared. The President, though restless and somewhat weakened, kept in good courage; and during the forenoon, awaking from sleep, denounced with not a little spirit the “wishy-washy” food which the doctors prescribed for him. During the day it was quite clearly determined from the natural indications of the case, that, contrary to the previously expressed views of the attending physicians, the President’s internal organs had not been perforated by the ball. This discovery gave additional grounds of hope. The noonday bulletin strengthened rather than discouraged the idea of ultimate recovery:

“12:30 P. M.—The favorable condition of the symptoms reported in the
last bulletin continues. There has been no recurrence of the
vomiting. Pulse, 110; temperature, 101; respiration, 24. The
President lies at present in a natural sleep. No further bulletins
will be issued till 8:30 P. M., unless in case of an unfavorable
change.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Under the assurances given by the surgeons the people began to find time to discuss the collateral circumstances of the crime, the character of the criminal, what should be his punishment, the course of events in case of President Garfield’s death, and the danger in general to be apprehended from political assassins. At first it was believed that the criminal had committed the deed on account of rebuffs received in seeking an appointment. This, Guiteau himself stoutly denied, declaring that he had tried to destroy the President wholly and solely _for the good of the country, and at the command of God_! He had been influenced only by high and patriotic motives! When the people came to understand the reasons why he had shot the President, against whom he had not the slightest enmity, they would change their mind as to him and his deed! Every utterance of the monstrous villain was of the self-same character, and to all his loathsome speeches was added the disgusting cowardice which he constantly exhibited in his cell.

Many incidents in the previous life of Guiteau came to the surface and were published. It was found that he had come to Washington shortly after March 4. On April 8 he made his appearance at the Navy Department library and registered his name on the visitors’ book. He returned on April 14, and from that time up to the time of the adjournment of the Senate he was a daily visitor. On one occasion he had told the librarian, Captain J. Ross Browne, that he was going to be appointed Consul to France. He had been on hand every day, sometimes before the library was opened, and remained all day. He had never shown himself very communicative, and when spoken to he responded in monosyllables. He seemed to be of a morose disposition, but was quiet and orderly in his manner. While in the library he sat in a corner reading a book. He had thus read Lang’s _American Battles_, and frequently called for the manual of the Consular Service, over which he would sit pouring for hours. The last book he had read was John Russell Young’s _Tour of General Grant_. Mr. Browne one day said to him: “I should think if you wanted a place you ought to be up at the Senate or at the State Department. Some one will get ahead of you.”

“I can attend to my own affairs,” was the rather sullen retort, and then glancing up suspiciously, he asked: “Have you told any one about my place?” Further efforts at conversation he repulsed.

The possible event of the President’s death was a subject of the gravest anxiety. It was well known that Vice-President Arthur had not, in the recent imbroglio between the friends of the administration and Senator Conkling, been in sympathy with the President. It was to the Senator indeed that General Arthur owed his nomination. And so among the immediate supporters of the President and a large part of the people generally, there were, in prospect of the Chief Magistrate’s death, deep forebodings of a disastrous reversal of the policy of the government and a universal uproar in the circles of office-holding. General Arthur became the central figure among the possibilities of the future. To the Vice-President the situation was exceedingly trying; but fortunately for the good name of the Republic he so demeaned himself as to win universal respect. His whole bearing from the day of the crime to the close of the scene was such as to indicate the profoundest sorrow and anxiety. His forbearance from comment, beyond giving expression to his grief, was noticed as the result of the exercise of sound common sense under trying circumstances, and the hasty opinions which had been pressed in many quarters when the worst was feared were quickly revised and recalled.[2] General Arthur visited the Executive Mansion on the afternoon of the 5th, and remained for an hour in conversation with members of the Cabinet. He did not see the President, the physicians deeming it unwise to admit him. The members of the Cabinet, however, spoke of him in terms of warm friendliness, feeling that he fully shared with them the sympathy and sorrow which they entertained in common with the Nation at large.

Footnote 2:

The only farcical thing which has happened in connection with the dark
tragedy has been the miserable and ludicrous shuffling of the base
crowd of office-holders and office-seekers which clung to General
Garfield’s skirts, denouncing and abusing General Arthur and his
friends until the possibility of his accession to power dawned on the
minds of the patriots. The quickness which they displayed in
discovering the latent virtues of the Vice-President and advancing
themselves to the rank of his most ardent supporters, even before the
illustrious dead was consigned to his grave, was a picture full of the
most disgusting subserviency of the place-hunter.

The evening bulletin, issued at half-past eight o’clock, was briefly as follows:

“8:30 P. M.—The condition of the President continues as favorable as
at the last bulletin. Pulse, 106; temperature, 100.9; respiration,
24. No further bulletin will be issued till to-morrow morning,
unless in case of an unfavorable change.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

At eleven o’clock of this (Tuesday) evening, Secretary Blaine sent out a dispatch announcing, as the result of the day, “a substantial gain.”

_The fifth day._—It was now the crisis of summer. The intense heat was an unfavorable circumstance with which the physicians in charge of the wounded President had to contend. Wednesday was ushered in with a fearfully high temperature. In order to relieve the President as far as possible from the oppression caused by the intense heat, the attending physicians put into operation a simple refrigerating apparatus, which it was thought would render the atmosphere of his room much more comfortable than it had been hitherto. It consisted of a number of troughs of galvanized iron, about ten inches in width and fourteen feet in length, placed on the floor along the walls, and filled with water and broken ice. Over these troughs, and corresponding with them in length, were suspended sheets of flannel, the lower edges of which were immersed in the ice-water which filled the troughs. The water was thus absorbed and carried upward by capillary attraction in the flannel, as oil is in the wick of a lamp, until the sheets were saturated. This cold water, both by direct contact with the air, and by the rapid evaporation which took place over the extended surface of the saturated flannel, lowered the temperature of the room. Very soon after this apparatus was put into operation, it made a perceptible change in the temperature, and the President was greatly refreshed. The morning bulletin was given to the public at half-past eight. It said:

“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a most comfortable night, and
has slept well. His condition has remained throughout as favorable
as when the last bulletin was issued. The pulse is becoming less
frequent, and is now 98; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 23.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

This was decidedly the best report which the physicians had yet been able to make. The effect was immediate and wide-spread. What might almost be called a feeling of confidence supervened; the channels of trade flowed on, and the people were elated at the prospect of a complete restoration to life and the duties of his high office of him whom their votes had raised to that high eminence. In all parts of the world expressions of sympathy continued to be given and transmitted to our Government.

His Majesty, the Emperor of Germany, inquired with great anxiety about the condition of President Garfield, and directed his Charge d’Affaires, Count Beust, to inform him thereof by cable. In consequence of Count Beust’s report, His Majesty ordered him to express to Secretary Blaine his satisfaction on account of the favorable information, and his best wishes for the speedy recovery of the President. Count Beust, in obedience to the wishes of his Government, and in manifestation of his personal sympathy, called three times during the day at the Executive Mansion.

The noonday bulletin was brief, but satisfactory:

“12:30 P. M.—The President remains quite as comfortable as at the
date of the last bulletin. He takes his nourishment well. Pulse,
100; temperature, 99.7; respiration, 23.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Presently, after this report was made, the attending physicians sent to the consulting surgeons a somewhat lengthy dispatch, stating in detail the progress of the President’s case. The general effect of this, as well as of the previous bulletin, was further to allay public anxiety and to strengthen the belief that the President would triumph in the fearful struggle which he was making against the effects of his wound. And to this end, whatever the faith and hope of a great and sincere people could do to alleviate and save was gladly and earnestly given in sympathy and words of cheer. The bulletin of the evening was in the same general tone as the two preceding. It said:

“8:30 P. M.—The President’s condition continues as favorable as at
last report. He has passed a very comfortable day, taking more
nourishment than yesterday. Pulse, 104; temperature, 100.6;
respiration, 23. Unless unfavorable symptoms develop, no further
bulletins will be issued until to-morrow morning.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Altogether, the day was the least eventful—certainly the least exciting—of any since the great crime was committed. Discussions as to the character of the President’s injury, and of the probable disposition of Guiteau, took the place of those eager inquiries and indignant comments of the first few days after the deed was done.

_The sixth day._—The morning brought nothing in the nature of the unexpected, in relation to the President’s condition or his surroundings. If his chances for recovery had not advanced, they had at least not become less than on the previous day. Callers at the White House came and departed in considerable numbers, and the natural tendency of the human mind to build high hopes upon narrow foundations, served to keep the general public, as well as those having more intimate relations with the President, in excellent spirits. While a hundred dangers yet surrounded the path toward restored health, confidence that the courageous Chief Magistrate would travel that path in safety, prevailed more and more. During the day, Dr. Boynton, of Cleveland, for a long time the friend of the President’s family, and recently the attending physician in the case of Mrs. Garfield’s protracted illness, reached Washington, and although not invited to become one of the consulting surgeons, he took his place as an attendant upon the President, and remained near him to the end. The morning bulletin was almost sanguine in its tone:

“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 9:15 A. M.

“The President has passed a most comfortable night, and continues
steadily to improve. He is cheerful, and asks for additional food.
Pulse, 94; temperature, 99.1; respiration, 23. There will be no
further bulletins issued until 1 o’clock.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

This report incited additional hope, and the belief prevailed more and more, both in medical circles and among the people at large, that the President would win the battle. One of the episodes of the day was the publication of a letter from Senator Conkling, which, though really an earnest expression of sympathy for the President and his family, was largely devoted to the question as to whether a discrimination should not be made in the punishment of _attempted_ murder, based on the rank of the person assailed. The distinction was drawn between murder, which seems to require the same punishment whoever may be the victim, and the _attempt_ to murder. The Senator’s letter was addressed to Attorney-General MacVeagh, and was as follows:

“FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL, NEW YORK, July 5, 1881.

“_My Dear Sir_: In the abhorrence with which all decent men alike
shudder at the attempt to murder the President, I have given thought
to a matter to which your attention may or may not have turned. Our
criminal code treats premeditated homicide in all cases alike,
irrespective of the victim. Murder being visited by the greatest
penalty, perhaps no distinction between one case and another could
be founded on the public relations held by the person slain. But in
case of attempt to murder broad distinctions can be made between
assailing the life of an individual, and an attempt to take a life
of special value to the whole people. The shocking occurrence of
Saturday I think demands that the definition and punishment of
assaults aimed at high executive officers, whether successful or
not, should be made thoroughly rigorous. The man who attempts the
life of the President, if morally responsible, commits an offense
which the Nation ought to guard against, and punish by the exertion
of all the power civilized nations may employ. I suggest this as
deserving consideration.

“My profound sympathies are with the President, and with all of you
every hour. The conflict of reports keeps hope and fear striving
with each other, with nothing stable except faith and trust, that
the worst is overpassed. I wish you would express to the President
my deepest sympathy in this hour, which should hush all discords and
enlist all prayers for his safe deliverance. Please also give to
Mrs. Garfield my most respectful condolence. Trusting that all will
be well, cordially yours,

“ROSCOE CONKLING.”

In the early afternoon another bulletin was issued by the surgeons. The report said

“EXECUTIVE MANSION, 1 P. M.

“The condition of the President continues quite as favorable as this
morning. Pulse, 100; temperature, 100.8; respiration, 23. Unless
some unfavorable change should occur no further bulletin will be
issued until 8:30 P. M.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

It was noticed during the day that the preparations made by the surgeons in attendance on the President indicated their belief in a long illness, and the public came to understand that an indefinite period of suspense might be anticipated. As it related to the criminal, it was clear that he would simply be held in custody until such time as might, by the recovery or death of his victim, indicate the technical character of the crime committed, and the punishment consequent thereon. The bulletins sent abroad by Secretary Blaine during the day, especially the one directed to Minister White at Berlin, stated that for the preceding thirty-six hours the improvement in the President’s condition had been steady and constant, and the evening report of the attending surgeons was essentially a repetition of that issued in the afternoon.

_The seventh day._—With the morning of Friday there was practically no change to record in the President’s condition. He had passed the night as usual, sleeping and waking at intervals. The weather was excessively hot. Many contrivances and machines were invented and offered to the authorities, the purpose of which was to reduce, by mechanical means, the temperature of the President’s apartment. Several of these instruments were tried, and one, invented by Mr. Dorsey, a skillful mining engineer, was selected and set up in the Executive Mansion. The temperature of the room where the patient lay was thus brought under control and reduced to the desired degree. The morning bulletin of the surgeons was considered especially favorable:

“EXECUTIVE MANSION, July 8, 8:15 A. M.

“The condition of the President continues favorable. He is more
comfortable than on any previous morning. Pulse, 96; temperature,
92; respiration, 23. The wound is beginning to discharge laudable
pus.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Soon after this report was issued, however, there was an unfavorable turn in the case, and one of those flurries of excitement, so common in the subsequent history of the President’s progress, occurred. The President grew restless, and complained of weariness. The temperature and pulse and respiration ran up, indicating the presence of considerable fever. This change, however, was explained by the physicians as the necessary concomitant of suppuration then beginning in the wound. The noonday bulletin was brief:

“12:30 P. M.—The progress of the President’s case continues to be
favorable. Pulse, 108; temperature, 101.4; respiration, 24.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

One of the marked circumstances attending the tragic event, the course of which is outlined in these pages, was the universal desire of the American people to do something to contribute towards the President’s recovery. It would be vain to attempt to enumerate the thousand and one expedients and suggestions which, out of the goodness of the popular heart, came from every direction. Each out of his own nature added his own gift. The poet contributed his verse; the physician, his cure; the inventor, his contrivance; the gardener, his choicest cluster; and even the crazy beldam her modicum of witchcraft. From the center of the crowded city to the remotest corners of the prairie the slightest syllable of indifference to the President’s condition would have been instantly resented—first with a look of contempt and then with a blow. The evening bulletin, though pitched in a tone of encouragement, still indicated fever:

“8 P. M.—The President’s condition continues favorable. He has
passed a very comfortable afternoon, and has taken more nutriment
than on previous days. Pulse, 108; temperature, 101.3; respiration,
24. The conditions continue so favorable that there will be no
further bulletin until to-morrow morning.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

During the day a brief but touching dispatch was received from the surviving members of the family of the Marquis de LaFayette. Another message came from St. Petersburg expressing, as well it might, the horror of the Czar and his government for the crime of assassination.[3] A third was received from the minister for foreign affairs of the Argentine Republic, expressing the sorrow of that government for the great crime which had darkened the annals of American history.

Footnote 3:

One of the follies which prevailed to a greater or less degree in
connection with the shooting of the President, was the attempt to draw
a parallel between that event and the recent killing of the Czar
Alexander. There was no parallel at all. The Czar died in the cause of
despotism; Garfield, in the cause of liberty. The one was killed by
his own people, whose rights he and his House had trampled in the
dust; the other was shot down by a villainous fool who sprang out like
a coiled rattlesnake upon the innocent and beloved ruler of a free
people, who would have died by thousands to save his life. Let us hear
no more of the likeness between the deaths of Garfield and Alexander
II.

_The eighth day._—A week had now elapsed since the President was wounded. His condition was not materially changed. His will and courage were unimpaired, and the reports of the surgeons and attendants indicated—indeed positively declared—a continual improvement. During the day, for the first time since the President was wounded, the three younger members of his family were permitted to visit their father, one at a time. The President had repeatedly asked for them, but it had not been thought advisable to gratify his wish before. Vice-President Arthur also called during the morning.

The morning bulletin appeared as usual, and was as follows:

“EXECUTIVE MANSION, July 9, 8:30 A. M.

“The President has passed a tranquil night, and this morning
expresses himself as feeling quite comfortable. We regard the
general progress of the case as very satisfactory. Pulse, this
morning, 100; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 24.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

Whatever might be the progress of the President’s wound towards recovery, there could be no doubt that the vigor of his mental faculties was nearly up to the standard of health. At times, indeed, there seemed to be an unusual, and, perhaps, unnatural, exhilaration of his faculties. He heard every thing, and was eager to talk and to read the papers. Of course, all exciting causes were excluded by the physicians, but the President was restless under the restraint. Sometimes he wished to debate questions with his attendants, and, anon, when that was forbidden, he would indulge in some pleasantry, as was his custom in health. The surgeons noticed that he managed to convey a great deal in a few words. Sometimes he comprised sentences into a single expression. When some one told him that the heart of the people was in bed with him, he replied: “Sore heart.” He did not complain, however; not a querulous word escaped his lips. When he was inclined to debate propositions, and reasons were given him why a thing should be thus, he was very ready to point out any weakness in the reasoning. In a word, the President was himself, and retained possession of all his mental faculties.

The afternoon and evening bulletins were issued at the usual hours. They said:

“1 P. M.—The condition of the President continues to be favorable.
Pulse, 104; temperature, 101.2; respiration, 22. The next bulletin
will be issued at 8 P. M.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

“8:15 P. M.—The President’s condition has continued favorable during
the day. The febrile reaction does not differ materially from that
of yesterday. Pulse, 108; temperature, 101.9; respiration, 24.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

So, after a week of intense anxiety, the twilight of Saturday evening closed around the world, hiding in its folds alike the hopes and the fears of the people.

_The ninth day._—It was Sunday again. The Christian public had, from the first, taken up the President’s cause with heartfelt anxiety. Scarcely a pulpit or pew in the land had failed to respond in yearning and prayer for his recovery. This anxiety had been confined to no sect or creed or party. From Romanist to Free-Churchman it was all one voice of sympathy and entreaty to heaven for the President’s life. In greater or less degree, millions of men found in themselves a change of feeling, and a growth of appreciation, of thorough trust and of high regard, as they looked anxiously to the bedside of the President. His calm resignation and readiness to meet death, with his cool courage and unwavering resolution to do his best to preserve a life useful and precious to millions; his patient endurance of pain, and of all the restraints deemed essential to his recovery; his tenderness of feeling and his royal strength of will, made him loved with an unspeakable love by millions of true-hearted men and women throughout the land. It was not too much to say that the week which had elapsed had lifted the National standard of true Christian manhood for all time to come. The whole nation was educated by the affliction of one. The people will, perhaps, never realize how much they learned by the bedside of the wounded President. In knowledge of merely material things the whole Nation grew wiser. It had been studying physical injuries, their nature and treatment, with such intense interest, that there were thousands of school-boys who knew more of such subjects than their fathers did when the crime was committed. This, however, was an insignificant part of the knowledge gained. Moral culture was advanced; how much, the people could but surmise. There were millions of men and women who realized, as they had never done before, the value of calm fortitude, resolute will, and strict obedience in time of trial.

The first bulletin of Sunday morning was specially encouraging. It said:

WASHINGTON, July 10, 8 A. M.

“The President has passed the most comfortable night he has
experienced since he was wounded, sleeping tranquilly, and with few
breaks. The general progress of his symptoms continues to be
favorable. Pulse, 106; temperature, 100; respiration, 23.

“D. W. BLISS,
“J. K. BARNES,
“J. J. WOODWARD,
“ROBERT REYBURN.”

The church services of the day were almost exclusively devoted to sermons on the lessons derived and derivable from the Nation’s sorrow, and to prayers for the restoration of the beloved Chief Magistrate. Lessons not a few were drawn from the great national catastrophe, and more particularly from the example which the afflicted chieftain had set to all the people—an example so full of patience and courage as to be cited in praise and panegyric for all time to come. For more than a week it had been as if the Nation were sitting at the bedside of a man in sore distress, counting his pulses, noting his temperature and breathing, and listening for every whispered word. But neither the imminent presence of death nor the agony of long-continued suffering had drawn from the President a single word of anger or vindictiveness toward any one. Such a lesson was not to be lost on the American people, and it was clearly foreseen that if his life should be spared, he would rise to an influence over the public mind and destiny not equaled in the case of any man since the days of Lincoln. In the early afternoon, and again in the evening, the usual bulletins came with brief but encouraging words from the surgeons:

“1 P. M.—The President’s symptoms continue to be favorable. Pulse,
102; temperature, 100.5; respiration, 22. 7 P. M.—The President’s
symptoms continue to make favorable progress. Pulse, 108;
temperature, 101.9; respiration, 24.”