SHOT DOWN.
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.”
Unofficial information from the President’s bedside was, however, less
favorable than the official reports. Many candid and cautious observers
about the sick-room were more apprehensive than the physicians seemed to
be, that the President was not so clearly on the road to recovery as
could have been hoped. Among the latter was Professor B. A. Hinsdale, of
Hiram College, who sent to Cleveland during the day a dispatch for
publication among the old friends of the Garfield family, in which he
said:
“The President is by no means out of danger, and I do not think it
wise for people to settle down in a belief that he is. Of course we
have a strong reason to hope that he will recover, but people ought
to remember that the road to recovery will be a long one, beset with
many dangers.”
One of the peculiarities of the President’s case was the invariable
cheerfulness of the patient. He seemed to regard it as a part of his
duty to keep those about him in good spirits, and to aid the physicians
in the work of bringing him through. He frequently asked to see the
bulletins, and sometimes made humorous remarks about their contents. His
food was many times a subject of some jest, and when it did not suit
him, he had his revenge by perpetrating some pleasant satire about the
offending article, or the cooks who had prepared it. On one occasion,
the President asked for a drink, whereupon Major Swaim handed him some
milk, to which the physicians had added a small quantity of old rum. The
President, after drinking it, looked at Major Swaim with a dissatisfied
expression, and said: “Swaim, that’s a rum dose, isn’t it?” On other
occasions the sufferer spoke gravely, but always hopefully, of his
conditions and prospects, expressing the most earnest hopes for speedy
and perfect recovery.
_The tenth day._—The weather was still oppressive, and the President was
distressed with the heat. The artificial contrivances hitherto employed
to reduce the temperature of his room, and to maintain the same at a
given degree, had been but partly successful. An effort was now made on
a more elaborate scale to overcome the heat by artificial means, and
thus to furnish the President as much comfort as a moderate and equable
temperature could afford. Monday, the eleventh of July, was mostly
devoted to this work. Several fire-engines and large cast-iron boilers
were put in position near the east basement door of the White House, and
carpenters and machinists were set to work putting up apparatus of
enormous proportions, connected with the ventilating machinery.
Locomotive head-lights to illuminate the scene were supplied, so that
there should be no interruption until the work was done. The basis of
the refrigerating apparatus was the Jennings machine, heretofore
referred to; but Professor Newcomb and Major Powell jointly assisted in
perfecting some additional appliances for drying and purifying the air
to be admitted to the sick chamber. Several other devices of an entirely
different character were brought to the attention of the physicians in
attendance, and experimental machinery was set up to exhibit some of
them, but they were mostly unsuccessful. The President was not aware of
the efforts of their inventors to benefit him.
[Illustration: DR. D. W. BLISS.]
But by means of the Jennings machine an even temperature of 77°
Fahrenheit was preserved in the sick room, and the capacity of the
machinery was found to be sufficient to reduce the temperature several
degrees lower, if it should be thought necessary to do so. The windows
of the President’s room remained open, so that the air which was forced
into his chamber found ready exit, thus insuring perfect ventilation.
The bulletin issued by the surgeons on Monday morning was more
encouraging. The report said:
“July 11—8 A. M.—The President passed a comfortable night, and his
condition shows an improvement over that of yesterday. Pulse, 98;
temperature, 99.2; respiration, 22.”
The President continued talkative. Only the positive injunction of the
physicians could keep him from speaking out on all subjects that came
into his mind. During the day he indulged in his accustomed pun. To one
of his attendants he said, jocosely: “I wish I could get up on my feet;
I would like to see whether I have any backbone left or not!” The sly
backward look at the recent political struggle in which his
administration had been engaged, involving the question of the
presidential backbone, was not bad for a sick man battling for his life.
Justly or unjustly, the regular bulletins came to be somewhat distrusted
by the people. The feeling began to spread that, although the naked
facts of temperature, pulse, and respiration reported in the bulletins
were not to be questioned as to their accuracy, yet the comments and
construction put by the attending surgeons upon the facts, were too
rose-colored to meet the conditions of exact truth. At the same time
this opinion gained ground with the public, a feeling of quite implicit
confidence sprang up respecting the official reports of the President’s
condition sent abroad, more especially in reference to those sent to
Lowell, Minister at St. James, by Secretary Blaine. These messages from
the principal member of the President’s cabinet came, by and by, to be
looked for with fully as much confidence as to their accuracy as did the
surgeons’ official bulletins. On the 11th of July, Secretary Blaine sent
out one of these messages which gave great comfort, as follows:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“At the beginning of the tenth day since he was wounded, the
symptoms of the President are all hopeful and favorable. Suppuration
goes on with no higher pulse or temperature than should be expected.
His milk diet, of a pint and a half per day, is relished and
digested. His physical strength keeps up wonderfully, and his mind
is entirely clear and active, without showing excitement. His
physicians do not count him beyond danger, but the general
confidence in his recovery is strengthened every hour.
“BLAINE, Secretary.”
Later in the day, however, the condition of the President was less
favorable than that presented in Mr. Blaine’s dispatch, and the evening
bulletin was constrained to admit a higher fever than at any time
previously. The afternoon and evening official reports were as follows:
“1 P. M.—The favorable progress of the President continues. Pulse,
106; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 24. 7 P. M.—The President has
had rather more fever this afternoon. In other respects, his
condition is unchanged. Pulse, 108; temperature, 102.8; respiration,
24.”
_The eleventh day._—As the President’s case progressed, the public
became divided in their views of the prospect of recovery. Physicians
themselves disagreed as to both the diagnosis and the treatment of the
President’s injury. The distinguished Dr. Hammond, of New York, did not
hesitate openly to condemn the course pursued by the attending surgeons.
Other noted physicians, not a few, held similar opinions; and a series
of able and exhaustive articles appeared in the New York _Herald_,
criticising with severity the methods and views of those who were
immediately responsible for the management of the case. The attending
surgeons were considerably annoyed by these strictures, and many sharp
replies were returned to those physicians who, without having personally
examined the President’s wound, ventured to express definite opinions on
questions which those for more than a week in immediate attendance upon
the patient, had been unable to decide. The newspapers also divided, one
part of them publishing all the favorable, and the other all the
unfavorable news from the sick chamber of the White House. The former
felt called upon to explain away every unfavorable symptom which
appeared; and the latter, to becloud all the favorable news with doubt.
This diversion in public opinion continued manifest during the remainder
of the President’s illness.
The first news for Tuesday, the 12th of July, came in the bulletins of
the surgeons, and was as follows:
“8 A. M.—The President is comfortable this morning. Pulse, 96;
temperature, 99.6; respiration, 22.”
[Illustration: SURGEON-GENERAL J. K. BARNES.]
In addition to these regular reports of the attending physicians, much
unofficial information of the President’s condition was constantly given
to the public through the daily press. Nearly all of the leading
newspapers had regular correspondents at the Capital, and the reports
which they sent each day were quite extended and generally full of
interest. These unofficial communications were, in large part, made up
of conversations which the reporters held from time to time with the
surgeons and nurses of the President; and, although in many cases the
news sent out from these sources was conflicting and contradictory, yet
the public was greatly indebted to the industry and skill with which
each morning’s accounts were prepared. During the 12th of July, Dr. F.
H. Hamilton, one of the consulting surgeons, was asked by a reporter of
the New York _Tribune_ to give his opinion of the President’s condition.
He replied that nothing had occurred within the preceding twenty-four
hours to cause the alarm that some professed to feel. The rise in
temperature and increase in pulse had occurred for several evenings, and
both were natural at that time of day, even in a well person. He added,
however, that the President’s condition would be more favorable, if
these symptoms were absent altogether. There was nothing discouraging in
the official bulletins, which he thought were scrupulously correct, as
in the private intelligence sent him by the attending surgeons. He
repeated the assertion that he had made from the beginning, that every
hour that elapsed without more dangerous symptoms, increased the
patient’s chances of recovery.
The bulletins of the afternoon and evening were couched in the usual
language; but it was evident, on critical examination of the figures,
that the construction put by the surgeons upon them, was hardly
justified by the facts. The reports said:
“1 P. M.—The President is passing a comfortable day. Pulse, 100;
temperature, 100.8; respiration, 24. 7 P. M.—Pulse, 104;
temperature, 102.4; respiration, 24.”
_The twelfth day._—During the second week of the President’s prostration
the public mind settled down to the expectation of a long, tedious
illness. The suspense of the first few days had passed—as such things
always pass—and people came to understand that they must wait until the
silent forces of nature should restore, if they ever could restore, the
wounded Chief Magistrate to health. The Wednesday morning bulletin was
of the most cheering kind—more so, for once, than was expressed in the
words of the surgeons:
“8:30 A. M.—The President is doing well this morning. Pulse, 90;
temperature, 98.5; respiration, 20. His gradual progress toward
recovery is manifest, and thus far without serious complication.”
[Illustration: DR. J. J. WOODWARD.]
The temperature of the President’s room had now been completely mastered
by artificial means. The degree finally decided on as most favorable to
the patient was 81° Fahrenheit. About 10,000 cubic feet of fresh air was
forced into the room each hour, and this great volume making its escape
through the open windows carried away all odors and impurities. The
President’s wound was now in full process of suppuration. This became a
heavy drain upon his constitutional and reserved forces, and his
strength was rapidly depleted. He grew worse—unable to move his body or
even his limbs without great exertion. At intervals, moreover, the
stomach refused to perform its functions, and there was, in consequence,
instant anxiety on the question of keeping life in the President until
he _could_ get well. The fluid food, upon which only he was nourished,
neither satisfied the longings of nature nor furnished sufficient
aliment to sustain the flagging powers of life. Moreover, at this epoch
began the great blunder in the President’s treatment. Owing to the
mistaken diagnosis of the surgeons the course of the ball had been
altogether misjudged. According to the theory of the physicians the ball
had gone forward and downward. As soon as the wound began to suppurate
it was found desirable to insert therein a drainage tube to the end that
the discharge might be perfectly free. This tube—though pliable—was, in
the process of insertion, constantly so manipulated by the surgeons as
to carry it forward and downward in the _supposed_ track of the ball,
rather than horizontally to the left, in the _real_ course of the ball.
It thus came to pass that the natural tendency of the pus, making its
way to the external opening of the wound to sink into the tissues before
_reaching_ the wound, was augmented by the erroneous theory and
manipulation of the surgeons. Having once started an opening downward
through the tissues, this was immediately filled with pus, and into this
pseudo wound, at each insertion in the path of the burrowing pus, the
physician’s tube was thrust further and further. This mistake—albeit
unforeseen and possibly undiscoverable—was the rock on which all hope of
recovery was ultimately shivered. The noonday and evening bulletins came
at the appointed hours and were as follows:
“1 P. M.—The President’s condition continues favorable. Pulse, 94;
temperature, 100.6; respiration, 22. 7 P. M.—The President has had
less fever this afternoon than either yesterday or the day before.
He continues slowly to improve. Pulse, 100; temperature, 101.6;
respiration, 24.”
The large and not very reputable army of busybodies now made a great
discovery. It was the great question of the President’s “disability” to
be President any longer. Certainly he was wounded, stricken down, lying
at death’s door. He was disabled; there was no doubt of that. The
Constitution indicates disability of the President as one of the
contingencies under which the Vice-President shall discharge the duties
of the presidency. But was President Garfield disabled in the sense
contemplated by the framers of the Constitution? Does that kind of
prostration of the bodily powers, in which there is still a prospect of
recovery, which leaves the will free to act, and the mental powers
unimpaired, really involve disability? These were the questions which
now came up for public discussion. However they might or should be
decided as abstract questions of constitutional construction, certain it
is that, as a practical issue, there was quite a universal judgment
that, _as yet_, President Garfield was not “disabled” in the sense of
the Constitution. Such was the temper of the people, moreover, that they
would not have patiently brooked any real effort to make the
Vice-President acting Chief Magistrate of the Nation.
_The thirteenth day._—Thursday, July 14th, was a quiet day at the White
House, and a like quiet was gradually diffused through the country. The
President was reported as having gained a little strength—a very
desirable thing. The unofficial accounts from the sick chamber were more
than usually encouraging. The reports of the President’s condition
occupied a less conspicuous place in the papers of the day, and there
was less popular discussion. The morning bulletin said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a comfortable night and
continues to do well. Pulse, 90; temperature, 99.8; respiration,
22.”
Hardly second in interest to the regular bulletins were the dispatches
constantly arriving from foreign powers, expressing either some hope of
recovery or asking for the latest news. On this day, the Secretary of
State received the following telegram from Mr. Lowell:
“BLAINE, _Secretary, Washington_:
“I have received the following from the Queen: ‘I wish to express my
great satisfaction at the very favorable accounts of the President,
and hope that he will soon be considered out of danger.’
“LOWELL, Minister, London.”
The Japanese Minister also handed to the Secretary of State a
telegraphic communication which he received from his Government, of
which the following is a copy:
“YOSHIDA, _Japanese Minister, Washington_:
“His Majesty was greatly rejoiced to receive your dispatch
announcing the steady recovery of the President, and commands you to
present his hearty congratulations.
“MOOYENO, Acting Minister Foreign Affairs, Tokio.”
[Illustration: DR. ROBERT REYBURN.]
During the day Senator Conkling, of whose attitude towards the
Administration so much had been recently said, again visited Washington.
In the evening he called at the Executive Mansion and handed the usher
his card for Mrs. Garfield. He said he did not wish to disturb her, but
desired that his sympathies might be made known to her, as well as his
gratification that the President was recovering from his wounds.
The afternoon and evening bulletins were duly issued, and gave the
following account of the President’s progress:
“1 P. M.—The progress of the President’s condition continues to be
satisfactory this morning. Pulse, 94; temperature, 98.5;
respiration, 22. 7. P. M.—The febrile rise this afternoon has been
less pronounced, and has not caused the President so much
discomfort. His general condition is good. Pulse, 98; temperature,
101; respiration, 23.”
The interpretation put by the surgeons upon these reports, and
generally—though not universally—accepted by medical men, was that the
so-called “surgical fever,” that is, a certain exacerbation of bodily
temperature always noticeable in persons recovering from physical
injury, had passed its crisis and would soon disappear. This belief was
strengthened during the day by the presence of perspiration and other
concomitants of a waning fever.
For the first time in five days the patient’s temperature fell to the
normal degree (98.6°). A new drainage pipe of rubber was inserted into
the wound to a greater depth than the original pipe had reached.[4] The
President was able to move his limbs more easily than heretofore, and in
other ways manifested his improvement. He asked more frequently about
public affairs, and his curiosity was gratified in matters which would
not produce excitement.
Footnote 4:
Here again was the fatal mistake. Day after day the burrowing pus was
aided on its way downward among the tissues by the disturbing drainage
tubes of the surgeons.
Thus day by day the battle went on between the recuperative forces of
nature and the destructive agency of a dreadful wound.
_The fourteenth day._—The improvement in the President’s condition,
first distinctly manifested about the beginning of this week, was now
more marked than hitherto. The patient took food with relish. The wound
showed signs of healing. The febrile symptoms during most of the day
were wholly wanting. Taken all in all there was a distinct progress
toward recovery. The morning bulletin said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has rested well during the night, is doing
admirably this morning, and takes his food with relish. Pulse, 90;
temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18.”
The physicians, on the strength of these indications, declared in
unofficial conversation that the progress of their distinguished patient
toward recovery could not be more satisfactory. So both surgeons and
people fell to the discussion of minor topics instead of the great
question of life or death. One question about which all were specially
curious was the location of the ball in the President’s body. Several
electricians thought to determine this matter by a new application of
scientific principles. It was suggested that the deflection of an
electric needle, when brought near to the ball, could be used as an
index of the exact spot where the missile was hidden. Professor Bell, of
New York, was specially confident of success by this method. He was firm
in the belief that, by the application of Hughes’s induction balance to
the surface of the President’s body, he would be able to mark definitely
the spot where the ball lay imbedded. The attending surgeons gave their
consent that the attempt might be made, and it was agreed that as soon
as Professor Bell had completed some modifications in the instrument,
and some experimental tests for the discovery of leaden balls under
similar conditions, the trial should be made.
The afternoon and evening bulletins of the fourteenth day were of the
most encouraging purport:
“1 P. M.—The President continues to do very well this morning.
Pulse, 94; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President
has continued to do well during the day. The afternoon fever has
been slighter than on any day since the 3d. Pulse, 98; temperature,
100.4; respiration. 20.”
There was, at this epoch in the history of President Garfield’s case, a
good deal of monotony. The regular reports were in a measure duplicates
of each other, and the unofficial accounts which were sent out by the
newspaper correspondents were not characterized by the sensational
quality which marked the early reports of the tragedy. The people,
moreover—and with good reason—grew somewhat suspicious of startling
dispatches, for it was found that the stock jobbers of New York City
were not unwilling to use the President’s condition as a basis of
speculation. With sorrow and mortification it was discovered that there
were men so lost to the sense of shame as to wager fictitious shares
against the hopes of the Nation and to speculate on a manufactured
death-rattle in the throat of the Republic!
_The fifteenth day._—From the beginning of the healing of the
President’s wound, the surgeons had been more or less apprehensive that
the blood of their patient would be poisoned by the absorption of
purulent matter, and his life be thereby imperiled. There are two
secondary diseases thus likely to arise from the presence of a wound in
the body—pyæmia and septicæmia. The first of these is by far the most to
be dreaded. The malady results from the absorption of the poisonous pus
corpuscles into the circulation with the consequent horrors of rigors
and burning fever. The latter disease, septicæmia, is a less fearful
complication, resulting from the absorption of the fluid ichor peculiar
to healing wounds and the infection of the blood thereby. Both of these
ills were to be feared in the case of the President. Day by day went by,
however, and the dreaded symptoms did not appear. The bulletins of the
16th of July were of a sort to indicate that blood poisoning was hardly
to be apprehended. The reports said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed another good night, and is
steadily progressing toward convalescence. Pulse, 90; temperature,
98.5; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President has passed a better day
than any since he was hurt. The afternoon fever is still less than
yesterday. His pulse is now 98; temperature, 100.2; respiration,
19.”
In view of the favorable progress of the President’s case the surgeons
decided, for the time, to issue bulletins only in the morning and
evening, thus dispensing with the noonday report.
One of the most interesting episodes in connection with the
assassination of the President was the raising of a fund for the support
of his family. The enterprise was proposed by Cyrus W. Field of New
York, who headed the subscription with $25,000. The fund was for Mrs.
Garfield, and was to be hers absolutely independent of any
contingencies. It was proposed that any and all who felt disposed should
add to the sum until the amount contemplated was secured. Then it was
designed to invest the whole in Mrs. Garfield’s name, the interest to go
to her and her family in perpetuity. Notwithstanding the strong hopes
which were entertained of the President’s recovery, the subscription was
rapidly augmented until, before the President’s death, the sum had
reached more than $300,000. After the tragedy was ended the trustees
having the fund in charge invested $275,000 of the amount in four per
cent. Government bonds, placing the whole to Mrs. Garfield’s credit. It
was thus that the American people, of their own accord, made provision
for the wife and children of the great citizen who had never found time
to get riches.
_The sixteenth day._—The news on this day opened with the cheering
information that the President was now permitted to order his own meals,
and that he was making good use of the privilege. The day at Washington
was one of the least exciting in the whole course of the President’s
illness. The future was freely discussed—how soon the wounded Chief
Magistrate might go abroad and what measures should be adopted for his
more rapid restoration to health. The morning and evening bulletins were
almost a mere matter of form:
“8:30 A. M.—The President continues to improve. He passed an
excellent night and has a good appetite. This morning, pulse, 90;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—Our expectations of
favorable progress have been fully realized by the manner in which
the President has passed the day. He has taken more solid food and
with greater relish than hitherto, and his afternoon fever, which is
as slight as that of yesterday, came on later. His pulse is 98;
temperature, 100.2; respiration, 20.”
The informal reports of the day showed, from the conversations of the
surgeons, that they were still in some measure under the delusion that
the ball had passed through the President’s body and was imbedded in the
anterior wall, in a position of easy removal in the future.
_The seventeenth day._—This was similar to the day before.
Notwithstanding the febrile rise of the preceding evening, the President
was reported as having passed a restful night. In the morning he had a
friendly altercation with the doctors, he contending that he might smoke
a cigar and they refusing. He was cheerful, confident, and strong in the
faith that he was on the way leading to recovery. The symptoms had a
reassuring complexion in the general view and to the immediate
attendants. The President felt that he was better, and he said so. There
was no question about his fever; that showed for itself; but it did not
lead to serious apprehension. Improvement in his condition was what the
people wanted to hear about, and they did not expect any thing else. The
great majority had determined upon not hearing any thing contrary to
their hopes, and this feeling was participated in by the public press.
Under these conditions it is not surprising that the physicians, who
knew just how the popular heart was throbbing, made extraordinary effort
to respond to its requirements. No one accuses them of deception. No one
believes they were actuated by any but the best motives in their
examinations and reports. Admitting that a portion of their theory was
wrong, who will contend that a better theory could have resulted from
the examination of any equivalent number of physicians and surgeons?
This question has been widely discussed, without finding a conclusion in
anywise discreditable to the corps of eminent scientists who ministered
to the sufferings of President Garfield.
The physicians explained to the public that the present feverishness of
the patient had arisen from his recent over-eating of solid food. The
more thoughtful, however, who had carefully scanned the reports for the
last few days, were not satisfied, and awaited the morning bulletin with
a little fear. The report ran thus:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed another comfortable night and
is doing well this morning; pulse, 88; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18.”
This was reassuring; so the people took up the subject of the
thanksgiving which had been proposed by Governor Charles Foster, of
Ohio. During the day a letter was published from Hon. O. M. Roberts,
Governor of Texas, giving his hearty approval of what Governor Foster
had proposed. An interesting conversation with Dr. Bliss was also
reported for the Eastern press, in the course of which he declared that
the President’s wound was in the healing stage, and that the track of
the ball was slowly but surely clearing by the processes of nature. The
evening bulletin, however, was not as fair as had been hoped. It said:
“7 P. M.—The President has had a little more fever this afternoon,
which is regarded as merely a temporary fluctuation. At 1 P. M. his
pulse was 98; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. At present his
pulse is 102; temperature, 100.7; respiration, 21.”
_The eighteenth day._—Something has already been said of the Hughes
Induction balance with which Professor Bell was to discover the position
of the ball in the President’s body. The preliminary experiments had
been continued, and the electricians had strong hopes of success, but
the test had not yet been made. The press reports of the day were
largely devoted to descriptions of the delicate apparatus which was to
enable the scientists to determine the exact location of the ball. The
great difficulty in the way was the non-susceptibility of lead to the
inductive effect of electricity. Professor Bell and his co-electricians
were, however, quite confident that this obstacle could be overcome and
the position of the ball determined. The two bulletins of July 19th were
as follows:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a very good night, and this
morning he is free from fever, and expresses himself as feeling
quite comfortable. Pulse, 90; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. 7
P. M.—The President has passed an excellent day, and the afternoon
fever has been less than on any day since he was wounded. At 1 P. M.
his pulse was 92; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 19. At present his
pulse is 96; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 19.”
_The nineteenth day._—The reports, both official and unofficial, were of
a sort to justify a belief in the early convalescence of the
President—if indeed convalescence had not already supervened. The fever
was so slight as to be scarcely any longer noticeable. The President’s
appetite and spirits were of a sort to suggest immediate recovery. It
was said by the attending surgeons on the 20th of July, that the wounded
man had passed his best day since his injury was received. He was still
represented as weak and weary from lying so long in bed. He was looking
forward eagerly to the time when he could take the trip upon the
Potomac, and possibly a sea voyage, which had been promised him by the
middle of August, if he should continue to improve. Arrangements were
already made so that the trip might be as safe and comfortable as
possible.
The Tallapoosa, a United States steamer, underwent repairs and was made
ready for service. The Secretary of the Navy issued orders to put
additional men at work upon her, so that she might be ready to sail at
any time after the 15th of August.
The bulletins of the surgeons were issued as usual, morning and evening.
They said:
“8:30 A. M.—The progress of the President toward recovery continues
uninterruptedly. He has passed another quiet night. Pulse this
morning 86; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The
President has passed an excellent day. At 1 P. M. his pulse was 88;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. At the present time his pulse is
98; temperature, 99.6; respiration, 19.”
_The twentieth day._—The physicians were unwilling to say that their
patient was out of danger, but they permitted the attendants to think
so, and the people accepted it as true. At the morning dressing of the
wound a discovery was made. It was found that some of the clothing had
entered the wound with the bullet. There came away, spontaneously with
the pus, from the deeper part of the wound, what the surgeons called a
“morsel of clothing,” about one-quarter of an inch square. Upon being
examined under the microscope by Dr. Woodward, it was found to consist
chiefly of cotton fibers, with a few woolen fibers adhering. It was a
portion of the President’s shirt, with a few fibers of wool from the
coat.
The two bulletins of the day were brief but satisfactory:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has had a good night and is doing
excellently. This morning, pulse, 88; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President has had another good day. At
1 P. M. his pulse was 92; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. At 7
P. M., pulse, 96; temperature, 99.9; respiration, 19.”
For some time past the consulting surgeons had not been called to the
President’s bedside, but daily reports were made to them by the
physicians in charge. These reports, however, were but a more extended
statement of the facts contained in the official bulletins, and
generally added nothing in the way of information.
_The twenty-first day._—The recovery of the President was now generally
believed to be assured. The surgeons gave it as their opinion that about
the only danger to be apprehended was the prolonged suppuration of the
wound. Under the influence of this drain the President was wasting from
day to day, and the amount of food which he was able to take was hardly
sufficient to supply the waste. Nevertheless he held up well under this
exhaustive process, and although greatly reduced in flesh and strength,
his vital energies did not as yet seem to be seriously impaired. Almost
the only item of news which came from the White House was the somewhat
monotonous bulletins, which said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President rested well during the night and is quite
easy this morning. Pulse, 88; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 17.
7:30 P. M.—The progress of the President’s case continues without
material change. At 1 P. M. his pulse was 98; temperature, 98.4;
respiration, 18. At 7 P. M., pulse, 98; temperature, 100.2;
respiration, 19.”
_The twenty-second day._—Bad news! The President was worse. The morning
bulletin did not appear. At first this fact created no anxiety, but soon
there was alarm. At ten o’clock a bulletin was posted by the surgeons,
which said:
“10 A. M.—The President was more restless last night; but this
morning at 7 A. M., while preparations were made to dress his wound,
his temperature was found to be normal; pulse, 92; temperature,
98.4; respiration, 19. At 7:30 he had a slight rigor, in consequence
of which the dressing of his wound was postponed. Reaction followed
promptly, and the dressing has just now been completed. At present
his pulse is 110; temperature, 101; respiration, 24.”
“Rigor” was a bad word. Physicians understood it to portend blood
poisoning. It was remembered, moreover, by the attendants that for the
last two days the President had complained of a sense of great fatigue.
The symptoms were well calculated to inspire a fear that the dread
pyæmia had made its appearance. The consulting surgeons were immediately
sent for. At half-past eleven the President had _another_ chill, and the
news given to the people in the afternoon papers was of a kind to create
the most serious apprehensions. The evening bulletin was awaited with
the utmost anxiety. In the towns and cities crowds filled the streets as
had happened three weeks before when the news came of the assassination.
At seven o’clock the bulletin came as follows:
“7 P. M.—After the bulletin of 10 A. M. the President’s fever
continued. At 11:30 A. M. he again had a slight rigor, and his
temperature subsequently rose, until, at 12:30 P. M. it was 104,
with pulse 125, respiration, 26. Between this time and 1 P. M.
perspiration made its appearance, and the temperature began to fall
gradually. It is now 101.7; pulse, 118; respiration, 25.”
Soon after this bulletin was made public, Drs. Agnew and Hamilton
reached Washington, but it was thought not best to disturb the President
further, and so no consultation was held until the morrow.
_The twenty-third day._—This was an anxious day in Washington and
throughout the country. With the coming of morning it was learned that
during the night the President had had another chill. It also transpired
that at the evening dressing of the wound, the physicians discovered in
the region below where the ball had entered, a pus sac, that is, an
accumulation of purulent matter in a cavity inclosed in the tissues of
the back. At nine o’clock there was an examination by the attending and
consulting surgeons, and an operation was determined upon. An incision
was accordingly made about two inches in length, an inch and a half in
depth, reaching down to the bottom of the cavity or sac. It was about
three inches below the wound and farther back toward the spine. A large
drainage tube was inserted, and in the afternoon, when the wound was
again dressed, it was found that the pus was escaping from the tube and
not from the old wound at all.
[Illustration: SCENE IN THE SICK CHAMBER.]
In making this artificial opening some farther discoveries were made
regarding the character of the wound. It was found that the eleventh rib
had suffered a compound fracture, being broken in two places. The piece
of bone thus displaced was driven inwards from its natural position.
This the surgeons restored to its place, and it was decided that in a
few days the old opening, where the ball had entered, should be allowed
to heal, leaving only the orifice made by the surgeons. During the
operation the President displayed his usual courage. He neither flinched
nor moved, though nothing was given him in the nature of an anæsthetic.
Probes were thrust down through the old wound to the bottom of the
pocket, and against these probes the surgeons cut their way to the lower
end of the sac. The operation thus performed was in every way
successful. The beneficial effects were immediately apparent in an
improved condition of the sufferer. The bulletin issued by the surgeons
in the evening was as follows:
“7 P. M.—The President has been much relieved by the operation of
this morning, and the pus has been discharging satisfactorily
through the new opening. At noon to-day his pulse was 118;
temperature, 99.8; respiration, 24. At present his pulse is 104;
temperature, 99.2; respiration, 23.”
The unofficial conversations of the surgeons with reporters and others
was to the effect that, taken all in all, the prospects for the
President’s ultimate recovery were not lessened by the events of the
last two days.
_The twenty-fourth day._—The news was somewhat reassuring. There had
been no very marked change in the President’s condition, either for
better or worse. But he had passed a comparatively comfortable night,
sleeping at intervals, and suffering no recurrence of the chill. The
operation performed had entailed no serious consequence, and the outlook
again began to be hopeful. The surgeon’s bulletins were of a sort to
cheer rather than discourage. They said:
“8:30 A. M.—The President has passed a more comfortable night, and
has had no rigor since that reported in the bulletin of yesterday
morning. He is doing well this morning. Pulse, 96; temperature,
98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The President has done well during
the day. His afternoon fever did not come on until after three
o’clock. It is somewhat higher than yesterday, but there has been no
chill. At noon his pulse was 104; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
20. At 7 P. M. his pulse was 110; temperature, 101; respiration,
24.”
The attendants upon the President who were often at the bedside, and had
every opportunity of judging of the general course of the case, and also
the members of the Cabinet, reiterated in many informal conversations
the views expressed officially by the surgeons in charge. None the less,
to one who could read between the lines and could not be blown hot or
cold with every rumor, it was clear, even from the surgeons’ bulletins,
that the recovery of the President was still problematical.
_The twenty-fifth day._—The reports for Tuesday, July 26th, showed that
the President was gaining ground, and that he had in a good measure
realized the relief hoped for from the operation of the previous Sunday.
This belief was plainly present in the dispatch of the cool-headed Mr.
Blaine. He said:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_:
“At 11 o’clock P. M. the President’s physicians report temperature
and respiration normal, and pulse, 96—best report at same hour for
five nights. The entire day has been most encouraging, and a feeling
of confidence is rapidly returning.
“BLAINE, Secretary.”
This dispatch of the Secretary of State was, of course, based upon the
official bulletins of the surgeons, who said in their reports for the
day:
“8:30 A. M.—The President was somewhat restless during the night,
and the fever which had subsided after the last bulletin rose again
about midnight, and continued till three o’clock, after which it
again subsided. He is now about as well as yesterday at the same
hour. Pulse, 102; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P. M.—The
President has done well during the day. At noon his pulse was 106;
temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. At 7 P. M. pulse, 104;
temperature, 100.7; respiration, 22.”
One of the distressing features of the times was the presence in
Washington of great numbers of irresponsible newspaper correspondents
who shamed their profession by the publication of whatever came
uppermost. The Capital appeared to be at the mercy of sensational
rumor-mongers, and they made the most of their opportunity. According to
them, the doctors had said that the President would not live an hour;
mortification had set in; an important surgical operation had been
necessary, and the result had been unsatisfactory; the surgeons refused
to give any information concerning it or the President’s condition; it
had been decided by the surgeons that an attempt must at once be made to
find and extract the bullet as a last desperate effort to save the
President’s life; the flag on the building occupied by the Department of
Justice was at half-mast, as a sign of the President’s death, etc.
_The twenty-sixth day._—There could be no doubt that the reports of the
27th indicated a marked improvement in the President’s condition. He
continued all day without fever. The bulletins were unequivocal:
“8 A. M.—The President slept sweetly last night from about 8 P. M.
to 5 A. M., with but a slight break of short duration at 11 P. M.
There have been no rigors. He takes his nourishment well, and his
general condition is improving. He expresses himself as feeling
better and more rested. Pulse, 94; temperature, 98.4; respiration,
18. 12:30. P. M.—The President’s wound was dressed just after the
morning bulletin was issued. Since then he has rested quietly, and
takes his nourishment readily and without gastric disturbance. At
present his pulse is 90; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. 7 P.
M.—The President is still resting quietly. He has been able to take
more nourishment to-day than for several days past, and, up to the
present hour, has had no febrile rise of temperature. His wound has
just been dressed. It looks well, and has continued to discharge
healthy pus in sufficient quantity during the day. His pulse is now
95; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 20.”
The news sent abroad by Secretary Blaine to Minister Lowell was of the
same tenor. The dispatch said:
“LOWELL, _Minister_, _London_.
“At 11 o’clock P. M. the President’s physicians gave a most
favorable account of his condition. There is a conspicuous
improvement in his digestion and in the restfulness of his sleep. We
are by no means relieved from anxiety, but are growing more hopeful.
“BLAINE, _Secretary_.”
In a conversation during the day, Dr. Bliss, referring to the outlook,
said: “There is only one more danger to be apprehended in the
President’s case. That danger is pyæmia, and it is not likely to occur
for a long time; and we are extremely confident, almost certain, that it
will not occur at all. The President is doing very, very well. We could
not hope to have him do better. His sleep last night was the best that
he has had since he was wounded.”
_The twenty-seventh day._—The incident of the day was the removal of the
President from his room, in order that the apartment might be thoroughly
cleaned and aired. The removal was effected without difficulty, and the
President remained in the adjacent room until five o’clock in the
afternoon, when he was quietly returned to his own chamber. He greatly
enjoyed the slight change of scene thus afforded, and was much pleased
with the maneuver by which his room had been brought to order. His
spirits were revived not a little, and an improvement in his appetite
was again thankfully noted. The official bulletins of the day were as
follows: