CHAPTER XIV.
GAZING ON THE SEA.
The finger of hope pointed unmistakably in the direction of Long Branch, and as the morning of September 6th dawned upon the White House, all conditions appeared favorable for the removal of the beloved President beyond the malarial influences of the Capital. Preparations for this event were complete. The anxiety of the President to leave Washington had been imparted to all his friends and attendants. Even the physicians were convinced that nothing would bring relief to the sufferer so effectively as the pure, bracing salt breezes of the Atlantic, and their opinion increased the confidence and animated the hope of the country.
The condition of the President seemed peculiarly favorable for the journey. He had eaten well on the previous day, and retained his food. He had slept peacefully, and his wound was doing well. The parotid swelling had almost disappeared, and the general conditions were thought to be remarkably good. It was even said that a considerable increase of strength was manifest in his movements, but this was evidently a mistake. The excitement of the occasion for the time overcame his weakness.
All necessary arrangements for the journey were completed on the 5th. They were elaborate and well-developed. For the special railroad train the plan detailed in the previous chapter was adopted and successfully carried out. During the entire evening of the 5th, trunks, boxes, and a great variety of packages, were sent from the White House to the depot for shipment. Messengers were constantly arriving and departing, workmen were busy in special labor connected with various devices for the comfort of the President, and every thing indicated the eve of a great event. The crowd around the bulletin-board, at the front gate, was largely increased, and many held their positions there during the weary watches of the whole night. Every passer-in or out, who was supposed to have information regarding the wounded man, was eagerly besought to impart it. In reply to a question, Colonel Corbin said to a reporter that the trip could not hurt the President, “because,” he added, “he has been traveling all day.” By this, Colonel Corbin meant that the President had been talking and thinking all day about the trip. This anxiety had characterized the President’s moods for some weeks, and it was therefore believed that the realization of his long-cherished desire would have a salutary effect upon his weakened system.
At a few minutes past five, on the morning of the 6th, several carriages were grouped on the drive in front of the White House, and near the main entrance stood an Adams Express wagon, of the largest size, covered, and furnished with side and end curtains. It was near 6 o’clock when quite a commotion became apparent in the Executive Mansion, and a moment later the President, lying upon a stretcher, was borne carefully and slowly to the express wagon, which had previously been connected with the stone steps of the White House by a wooden platform. It was arranged to permit the men to walk directly into the wagon, where they let the bed down slowly until it rested firmly upon its supports. Then the immediate attendants of the President ranged themselves around him, three on each side. At the head of the bed, on the right, sat Dr. Boynton, next was General Swaim, and at the foot was O. E. Rockwell. On the left were Colonel Rockwell, Dr. Bliss, and Dr. Reyburn, the other physicians having gone on before. The horses were attached, and at once the little procession was in motion, led by Private Secretary Brown, in his buggy.
As the President’s van passed out through the gate, the eyes of the invalid were closed, and that part of his face which could be seen looked pinched and pallid with suffering. In his general contour, there was something to suggest the face of Garfield to those who had known him long and intimately; but the change was astounding to every one unaccustomed to the daily observation of its progress. Perhaps it was not the face of a dying man, but many observers thought it was. There was something intensely pitiful and tear-compelling in the wasted features, and quiet, passive manner of the Nation’s chief executive, and he was thus driven away from his official home, with all the apparent chances largely against his return.
The van was but fairly outside the gate when the horses were urged to a lively walk, which occasionally increased to a slow trot, the pedestrians meantime keeping well up on the pavements. Three policemen walked on either side the wagon to keep the street clear; but there was no attempt at crowding. There was no boisterousness; no unseemly haste to be first; no loud talking. All passion was hushed. The agony of the great soul now going forth to find health for its encasement, subdued and quieted every thing within range of its influence. At one point the President recognized an acquaintance on the street, and slowly lifting his hand, waved a feeble salutation and farewell. At precisely six o’clock this sad procession drove alongside the car, specially fitted up for the martyred Chief Magistrate, the horses were detached, and twenty strong and willing hands backed the wagon to the opening in the car. Then the attendants lifted the stretcher and entered the car with its precious burden. The President was carefully adjusted upon his new bed, the foundation of which was a mattress of extraordinary thickness, and so constructed that the motion of the train could not be felt, a few farewells were said, and then the train moved slowly and smoothly away. Away, with fond hearts full of hope, but soon to be surcharged with dismay and grief!
This seven hours’ journey of 233 miles is now historical, and its principal features are full of interest. The train came to a stop in a few minutes after leaving the Washington dépôt, to permit an approaching train to move out of the way on a siding. “What does this mean?” inquired the President. “Only a momentary detention,” replied Colonel Rockwell. “But important events are ofttimes the issue of a moment,” rejoined the sufferer. This is the only conversation he joined in during the trip. The train soon proceeded, gradually increasing its speed where the track was straight enough to permit, to fifty-five miles an hour, and for a few miles after leaving Philadelphia, it actually attained a speed of sixty miles an hour. The President was watched very closely during the first hour of the journey, in order to detect any symptom of danger from the excitement of the occasion. To the relief and great satisfaction of the physicians, he seemed actually to enjoy the ride and to be improving. His pulse, which reached 118 early in the morning, fell to 110 and then to 108. He did not talk. His voice was too feeble to make his words distinguishable amid the noise of the running train, without too much effort. He occasionally inquired the hour, and once or twice desired to know the names of stopping places. Beef-tea was the sole nutriment given him during the journey, and on two occasions he relished it like a hungry man.
At every one of the forty-six cities and towns and villages, through which the train passed, great crowds thronged the streets. They stood silently, with uncovered heads and eyes wet with tears. The grief of the people was too deep for other demonstration. Words could not express it, and weeping came unbidden. Strong men, rough men, weak men and cultivated men; women of all grades and classes, and even little children, joined in their silent anguish with each other and the world, and poured their lamentation from streaming eyes. In many places, crowds of workingmen left their mills and forges as the train approached, and, ranging themselves alongside the track in an orderly line, stood with hats in hands and heads bowed till it passed beyond range of their vision. Then they solemnly returned to their vocations. There was a feeling of awe beyond expression in the mind of every spectator, and to some extent it entered every thinking mind in the land. Life and death were in fierce conflict upon that lightning train, and the madness of its speed looked like an effort to distance the subtle foe of mortality; but it was only in appearance. Death had long before marked our noble President for his own, with the bullet of the assassin. More than sixty days before the date which identifies this chapter with current history, he was as surely slain at Washington as was Richard III. at Bosworth, in 1485. Such was, in large measure, the feeling of the people. The dark foreboding of calamity began to overshadow them when the foul work of Guiteau’s pistol was flashed over the land on that fatal second of July, and now their hearts were sick with the President’s wounds. They felt with him the pain, and, without his hopefulness, saw the beloved head of the Nation approaching the last dread extremity, with faith undimmed and bravery undaunted.
It was a time for weeping and anguish and silence. And a time for thought. For severe self-examination. For national inquiry. A time to find out for what new crime atonement is required, in such measure as impoverishes all that is noble, and all that is above reproach in our poor world! Do we ever explore the logic of crime until forced to the task? And the lesson of Lincoln’s martyrdom—how was that learned? Had it been remembered, would there have been occasion for this later sacrifice upon the altar of political acrimony?
The lightning train sped onward. A pilot engine preceded it, and its passage was a signal to all approaching trains to get out of the way and remain silent until the convoy had passed. Trains upon side-tracks, wherever they were encountered, were crowded with people, all desirous of obtaining a glimpse of the President, but not obtrusive nor demonstrative beyond the overwhelming influence of great sorrow. Their silence was more expressive than language. It indicated the deepest sympathy, the profoundest respect, the heartiest love. On three or four occasions the poor sufferer waved his hand feebly to the people, but the effort was painful. The journey was devoid of incident beyond what has been related. The train arrived at Elberon at three minutes past 1 o’clock, and the transfer of the President from the car to his quarters at Francklyn Cottage was promptly made, without trouble or disturbance. His room had been elegantly prepared for his occupancy, and it was made pleasant with many beautiful bouquets and rare plants sent by personal friends. The physicians pronounced the arrangements perfect, and could suggest no improvement. They stated that the journey had done the patient no harm, although in the official bulletin, issued at 6:30 P. M. on the day of arrival at Long Branch, they announced his pulse at 124; temperature, 101.6; respiration, 18,—a condition not calculated to reassure the country.
Prayers had been offered during the day in thousands of churches, and by millions of people in their homes and places of business, for the restoration of the President. Faith in the efficacy of prayer seemed to be almost universal, and it is thought that thousands upon thousands of people who had never prayed before, made Garfield the object of their supplications at the throne of God. At a concert of prayer held at the Thirteenth Street Presbyterian Church in New York City, which was largely attended by Christians of all denominations, the following extract from a letter written by the President’s pastor in Washington, Rev. Frederick D. Power, was read:
“His life is before the world, a living epistle, to be known and read of all men. To you I may say he has had the ever-present Comforter, the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, during all these weary days and nights of suffering. He remembers the Lord’s day when it comes; on Sunday morning last, as he opened his eyes to its holy light, he said: ‘This is the Lord’s day; I have great reverence for it.’ He takes great comfort in prayer. Knowing that my little church was continuing daily in prayer to God for him, he said: ‘The dear little church on Vermont Avenue! They have been carrying me as a great burden so long, but when I get up they shall have no cause to regret it.’
“Of his own peril of death he has been mindful, and over and over again has said: ‘I must be prepared for either.’ This has been the principle of his life, ruling in all his experience, as he explained it to me: ‘When I meet the duties of each day as best I can, I cheerfully await whatever result may come.’ When he was first stricken he declared: ‘I believe in God, and trust myself in his hands,’ and there he is, my brethren, and God will keep him, and God will glorify His own great name, whether it be in his life or his death. I could say many things, but my heart and hands are both too full. He is better to-day, but still on the borderland. We are all still besieging the mercy-seat, and we expect God’s answer with great anxiety, but not, I trust, without great faith and submission.
“In conclusion, I may say in the words of President Garfield to me, in a season of like distress—the death of his little son: ‘In the hope of the Gospel, which is so precious in this affliction,’ I am affectionately your brother in Christ.”
The subjoined copies of dispatches are selected from several hundred of a similar tenor, as indicative of the general solicitude:
For the purpose of enabling the people to unite with those of other States in petitioning the Ruler of the Universe for the restoration to health of the President of the United States, the 8th day of September, instant, I hereby set apart and designate as a day of fasting and prayer. It is recommended that all ordinary avocations be suspended, and the people, in their usual places of worship, humbly acknowledge their faults and reverently supplicate the mercy of the Heavenly Father that the national peril, which now appears so imminent, may be averted. Let the prayers of all be united for the early and complete recovery of the President’s health and strength. May the blessing of Almighty God rest upon the stricken sufferer and the afflicted family.
Given under my hand and seal at the Capitol in the City of Albany, this 6th day of September, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and eighty-one.
By the Governor—Henry E. Abell.
The meeting for prayer in behalf of the President was largely attended. From twenty to twenty-five prayers were offered by clergymen and laymen, which were remarkable for their earnestness and importunity. The bulletins announcing the departure of the President from the White House and the progress of the train were read at the opening and close of the meeting.
Philadelphia, Sept. 6.—In accordance with the proclamation of the Governor, the churches of the city were generally thrown open, between the hours of 10 and 12 this morning, for worship for the recovery of President Garfield. At Harrisburg business was entirely suspended from 10 o’clock until noon. Services were held in the churches and in various industrial establishments. The dispatches relative to the President’s journey were read from a number of pulpits. In most other places in the State services were held and business was suspended during the hours named.
Cincinnati, Sept. 6.—The proclamation of Governor Foster was observed by meetings for prayer in the Christian churches, and a union meeting was also held in the First Presbyterian Church from 10 to 12 o’clock. The public schools were dismissed. The Mayor’s office and all the Government offices were closed, and deep interest was felt in regard to the result of the President’s journey from Washington to Long Branch. At the Republican County Convention prayer was offered by Dr. Kumler, who made a most fervent petition for the recovery of the President. After the prayer, on motion, the convention gave three cheers for the President. The convention also adopted a resolution condemning the attempted assassination, and extending sympathy to Mrs. Garfield.
Columbus, Ohio, Sept. 6.—Religious services were held in several of the churches here from 10 to 12 o’clock to-day, and many prayers were offered for the recovery of the President. The bulletin-boards were eagerly watched by anxious crowds, and each dispatch telling of the favorable progress in the Presidential journey from Washington to Long Branch was joyfully discussed. The feeling that the President will recover seems to permeate all classes, and nothing but hopeful expressions were heard to-day.
Chicago, Sept. 6.—The church services and union meetings to-day for the purpose of invoking Divine aid for the President’s restoration to health, were well attended and fervently participated in. Business was generally suspended in the public offices, business boards, etc. The announcement of the easy trip of the President to Long Branch and his improved condition, is the subject of great rejoicing to thousands who eagerly inquire for accounts of his progress.
Atlanta, Ga., Sept. 6.—In response to the Governor’s proclamation, the Hall of Representatives here was filled to-day with the members of the General Assembly and citizens, to offer up prayers for the recovery of President Garfield. Religious services were held, and addresses and prayers were made by leading ministers of the city.
Wilmington, N. C., Sept. 6.—To-day was very generally observed here as one of prayer for the recovery of the President. Services were held in all the churches in accordance with the proclamation of the Governor, and between 10 and 12 o’clock, the hours devoted to religious services, business was almost entirely suspended. A feature of the day which attracted some attention was the fact that nearly all the bar-rooms were closed.
Raleigh, N. C., Sept. 6.—In accordance with the Governor’s proclamation, to-day was generally observed here as a day of prayer for the President. Federal and State buildings and offices of manufacturers, etc., were closed. Impressive services were held at the churches.
Augusta, Ga., Sept. 6.—The day of prayer was very generally observed here. The Mayor issued a proclamation, and all the public offices, banks and many stores were closed. Services were held in the churches, and prayers offered for the restoration of the President to health. Some pastors mentioned that the wounding of the President had the effect of cementing the sections together as one people.
San Francisco, Sept. 6.—A special service of prayer for the recovery of the President was held this morning in the hall of the Young Men’s Christian Association. The Ministerial Union was present in a body. Every seat in the hall was occupied, and crowds were forced to stand.
Indianapolis, Sept. 6.—Religious services were held, in obedience to the Governor’s proclamation, in a number of the leading churches to-day, and prayers were offered in behalf of the President. Many of the business houses were closed from 10 to 12 o’clock.
Cleveland, O., Sept. 6.—Business was generally suspended throughout Northern Ohio between 10 o’clock and noon to-day, while people of all denominations gathered in their houses of worship, in town and country, and joined in prayer for the restoration of President Garfield to health.
The sixty-eighth day.—On the following day, the 7th of September, there was still no positive change in the President’s condition. The early morning dispatches announced: “He is no worse than when he left Washington, neither is he any better.”
Such a statement was, of course, quite unsatisfactory to the country, because, the people argued, “no better” always means “worse.” There is no neutral ground in a case of this kind. The morning bulletin found the pulse at 106; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. In the evening the pulse was 108; temperature, 101; respiration, 18. The day was very warm, the thermometer ranging from 90° to 100°, and the people were remarkably anxious over the reports of the physicians. When it was learned that after the issue of the evening bulletin, the pulse ran up to 114, there was wide-spread apprehension. The gentle sea-breezes, from which so much was expected, were not doing their appointed work. For most of the day there was a dead calm of the atmosphere at Long Branch, and the temperature was described as almost unbearable by people in health. To the sufferer it was wonderfully oppressive, and there were apprehensions that, unless change of temperature in an abatement of the furnace-like heat soon came, there would be reason to conclude that the journey of Tuesday was in vain. Every body complained but the President. He proved himself the most patient of invalids, and but once during the entire day made a remark which indicated any thing like discontent with the situation. Opening his eyes from a short nap, he turned them toward the windows and said to an attendant, who was fanning him: “Oh, those windows are so small.” For a few moments he breathed laboriously, and his pulse increased to a high rate, and the reaction caused unusual weakness.
Throughout the day the bulletin-boards at the various newspaper offices, and places of public resort in every part of the country, were besieged by large crowds of anxious men and women of every grade in the social scale, eager for the smallest scrap of information to sustain the earnest prayer of their hearts—that the revered President was now upon the sure course of recovery; but all the facts reported by the physicians pointed to a calamitous result. Only their comments were encouraging, and whatever of encouragement they conveyed was not accepted by the mind of science. It was seen that the President’s bravery had imparted a strange degree of assurance to his immediate attendants, whose reports were unconsciously colored by the mental force rather than the physical condition of the sufferer; and thus at least nine-tenths of his fellow-countrymen were buoyed up with hopes which had no foundation beyond the tenacity of a gigantic will.
The sixty-ninth day.—So wonderful was the exercise of the President’s mental force that on Thursday two of his medical attendants announced his convalescence! Surgeon-General Barnes, Surgeon J. J. Woodward and Dr. Robert Reyburn had been relieved from duty at Garfield’s bedside on the previous day, at the wish of the President, as he expressed it, “to relieve them of labor and responsibility which, in his improved condition, he could no longer properly impose upon them.” Drs. Bliss and Hamilton remained in their professional capacity, and Dr. Boynton, Mrs. Garfield’s physician, in the capacity of nurse. Between nine and ten o’clock, on the morning of the eighth, a newspaper correspondent said to Dr. Bliss:
“Doctor, you seem to be feeling pretty well this morning.”
“I should think I was; why, the man is convalescent; his pulse is now down to ninety-six.”
This announcement was astounding, but as the correspondent was endeavoring to settle in his own mind whether the doctor was not a little delirious himself, as a result of long watching and continued nervous tension, he turned to some persons who approached, and was soon asserting to them with emphasis, “This is convalescence.” The good news traveled with marvelous speed. “Dr. Bliss says the President is convalescent,” was soon on every lip, but was received with incredulity.
“We had better wait awhile before we toss up our hats,” was the comment of a member of the Cabinet.
As the day wore on, confirmation from every trustworthy source was obtained of the good tidings from the sick-room. Before noon Dr. Bliss and Dr. Hamilton appeared together on the veranda, and Dr. Bliss repeated his belief that the President was convalescent. “That is good news,” said a gentleman to Dr. Hamilton. “Yes,” was the reply, “and it is true.” Dr. Boynton came out of the President’s cottage about noon and strolled toward the edge of the bluff, with his hands behind him and with a far-away look in his eyes, which were turned to the east, whence the rising breeze was coming and the increasing weaves were rolling up on the beach at his feet.
“Doctor, this is a fortunate change.”
“Yes; the President is better.”
“You are, of course, hopeful, as all the rest are?”
“Yes, the change is not enough to base any medical statement of improvement upon, but what there is is in the right direction.”
Colonel Rockwell was more emphatic. “Dr. Bliss says the President is convalescent. What do you think?” asked a correspondent.
“Yes,” said the Colonel, “Dr. Bliss thinks so. The doctor said to the President this morning, in my presence: ‘Mr. President, you are convalescent; you are getting out of the woods.’ He is certainly doing very well and we shall have him propped up before many days. We have sent to-day for his reclining chair. It is one of those chairs which you can make any thing of, from an upright chair to a bed, and is softly cushioned. With a few days more of improvement, we will have him up where we can roll him to the windows.”
“And out upon the lawn, too, I presume, after a time?”
“Well, perhaps.”
“And you will, doubtless, take him to Mentor before many weeks?”
“Yes, probably he wants to get home, but he enjoys this place very well. We turned him on his side this morning, so that he could look out over the ocean, and he was very much pleased. He longed to get here. Two or three days before we started, I remember a queer remark he made. I said to him, ‘Mr. President, how would you like to have us put you on the Tallapoosa and get you down to the salt water?’ ‘That would be temporary, tentative and unsettled,’ he said; ‘put me on the cars and take me to Long Branch.’”
“Does he read the papers?”
“No; but he could. Yesterday I read to him a number of dispatches we had just received. Here is one of them now.” The Colonel drew from his pocket a telegram, which he read as follows:
“To President Garfield, Long Branch:
“The Garfield and Arthur Club, of Pittsfield, and people of the town, without regard to party lines, in Berkshire County, to whose hospitalities you were coming when so brutally assailed, and where thousands of Berkshire hearts were waiting to welcome you, all unite in congratulations on your safe arrival at the sea-shore. All hope for your speedy recovery, and to-day the shire town suspends business to meet and ask the Great Healer to be with you and make efficacious the efforts of your earthly physicians.
“The President,” continued Colonel Rockwell, “was greatly pleased by the kind expressions in the telegram, and bade me telegraph his thanks.”
Dr. Hamilton, in conversation with Dr. Pancoast, spoke very encouragingly of the prospects, saying, in effect, that he had the strongest hopes of recovery. Celebrations and thanksgivings to signalize the joy of the people, were freely discussed. The apparent change for the better caused a rebound in popular sentiment, which was quite disproportioned to its cause. Alas! it had no foundation whatever.
At 8:30 in the morning the President’s pulse indicated 104; temperature, 98.7; respiration, 18. At 6:30, evening, pulse 100; temperature, 99.1; respiration, 18. Dr. Bliss declared most emphatically that the favorable symptoms would continue. At 10:30 P. M. Secretary Blaine cabled this hopeful message:
“The President’s rest was much broken during the first half of last night, but to-day his condition has been more favorable. He had less fever this afternoon than for several days past; has better pulse and improved appetite. His surgeons are much encouraged. His comfort has been promoted by a decided change in the weather. Thermometer at this hour (10:30) 75° Fahrenheit; yesterday it was 95°.”
In many of the States, in response to the proclamations of their Governors, the people gathered at their places of worship and offered prayer for the recovery of the Chief Magistrate. In many cities business was almost wholly suspended for this service, and there was hearty supplication every-where for the Divine blessing upon the languishing President. Faith in prayer seemed to have become universal, and certainly the sentiments which accompanied this faith are an honor to humanity and a solace to the world.
The seventieth day.—September 9th was regarded as “a favorable day,” and the rapid convalescence of the President was confidently announced. The cool atmosphere seemed to invigorate him, and his appetite was fair. The physicians announced a decided improvement, but the morning bulletin did not create a sanguine feeling in non-professional minds, and the more cautious were scarcely satisfied with the symptoms, but preferred to await further developments before resting in the belief that the favorable change would not be interrupted by some unforeseen complication. Naturally, the immediate attendants upon the President exhibited a more decided opinion that the improvement was likely to be permanent, than did persons not so intimately connected with the case. Assurance from those having access to the patient’s room, that he was much better than before leaving Washington, was very generally and gratefully accepted.
At 8:30 A. M. his pulse was 100; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 17. At noon there was scarcely a notable change. At 6 P. M., pulse, 100; temperature, 98.8; respiration, 18. At 10 P. M. Secretary Blaine cabled the subjoined dispatch:
“The medical reports are all favorable to-day—morning, noon, and night. The President has not for many weeks done so well for so many consecutive hours. He has had very little fever; his respiration has been normal, and his pulse has not exceeded 100. He slept without opiates, and gained strength without stimulants. His nights are not so restful as could be desired; but in the twenty-four hours he gets sufficient sleep. The weather, though not excessively warm, continues sultry and oppressive. Much is hoped from the clear, bracing air which may be expected here at this season.”
On the same evening, Attorney-General MacVeagh expressed his views in these words: “At present everything looks favorable, and of course we hope that what has been gained will be maintained and added to, but the difficulty is, the President’s blood is in an unhealthy condition, and until he recuperates sufficiently to overcome any bad effects of blood-poisoning, it is not safe to be sanguine.” He thought, furthermore, that the President would convalesce in ten days. This was the 9th of September. Of course he could not foresee the 19th, and we must not anticipate that memorable date.
The seventy-first day.—Saturday, September 10th, was ushered in with favorable omens. It was pronounced “a satisfactory day” by Dr. Bliss. He expressed the opinion that the wound was healing from the bottom. The temperature was one degree higher than on the previous day, and this was the only change noted in the bulletins. But there was an undercurrent of apprehension more significant than any thing which appeared in print. The people had learned from an unofficial and unauthoritative source that the President was worse, and that blood-poisoning had shown itself in very alarming symptoms. Unfortunately, this information was true. At 8:30 A. M. the pulse was 104; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 18. At noon, pulse, 100; temperature, 98.5; respiration, 18. At 5:30 P. M., pulse, 100; temperature, 98.7; respiration, 18. Secretary Blaine cabled as follows, at 10 P. M.:
“After dispatch of last night the President had considerable increase of fever. Indeed, a rise of pulse and temperature every night has become a significant feature in his case. Through the day, and especially this afternoon, he has grown more comfortable. A cold easterly storm has prevailed since early morning without evil effect thus far on his condition. Secretary Windom had a brief interview with the President at noon. He found him much reduced in strength, but clear in his mind. He asked the Secretary about the success of the refunding of the public debt.”
The seventy-second day.—A day of anxiety. The President was unmistakably worse. It was ascertained that a portion of the matter discharged from the mouth was not pus from the parotid gland, as had been supposed, but pus from a badly diseased lung. The situation was regarded as critical, and especially so when the patient’s cough returned with considerable violence. At 8:30 P. M. his pulse was 104; temperature, 98.8; respiration, 19. At noon, pulse, 110; temperature, 100; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P. M., pulse, 110; temperature, 100.6; respiration, 20. The increase in respiration was attributed to the affection of the lungs. At 10:30 P. M. Secretary Blaine cabled the following report:
“The President had an increase of fever last night and was very restless until 5 o’clock A. M. During the day he has been somewhat better, but his pulse, temperature, and respiration have been higher for the entire twenty-four hours than on any preceding day since he reached Long Branch. His other symptoms are not reassuring, and his general condition gives rise to anxiety.”
The seventy-third day.—Monday was pronounced “favorable.” A decided improvement in the President’s symptoms was reported by the attending physicians, who pronounced the anxiety of the previous day “a senseless panic.” The lung difficulty was spoken of as of little importance now that it was understood, except by Dr. Boynton, who contended very strongly that it was an effect of blood-poisoning. Yet he thought the President’s vitality sufficient to overcome any serious results from it, provided no further complication of a similar nature occurred. At 8:30 A. M. his pulse was 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 18. At noon, pulse, 106; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P. M., pulse, 100; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 18. At 2:30 P. M. the following message was cabled by Secretary Blaine:
“The President slept well last night, and his condition to-day is more comfortable and more favorable. During my absence for a short time Dr. Agnew or Dr. Hamilton will send you a daily report.”
At 10 P. M. Attorney-General MacVeagh sent, by cable, the following dispatch:
“In the absence of Mr. Blaine, the attending physicians have requested me to inform you of the President’s condition. He has during the day eaten sufficient food with relish, and has enjoyed at intervals refreshing sleep. His wound and the incisions made by the surgeons all look better. The parotid gland has ceased suppuration, and may be considered as substantially well. He has exhibited more than his usual cheerfulness of spirits. His temperature and respiration are now normal, and his pulse is less frequent and firmer than at the same hour last evening. Notwithstanding these favorable symptoms, the condition of the lower part of the right lung will continue to be a source of anxiety for some days to come.”
The seventy-fourth day.—Tuesday, September 13th, was for the most part uneventful, except that at 11 A. M. he was placed in a semi-recumbent position upon an easy chair, in which position he remained half an hour without fatigue or discomfort. In reply to a question by Dr. Bliss, President Garfield said he experienced no pain and did not even feel tired. At 8:30 A. M. the pulse was 100; temperature, 99.4; respiration, 20. At noon, pulse, 100; temperature, 98.8; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P. M. pulse, 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 20. A favorable report was cabled by Attorney-General MacVeagh to Minister Lowell.
The seventy-fifth day.—“Still gaining slowly,” was the morning report. It was announced that the patient suffered from a septic infection of the blood, but this was not believed to be very serious. Dr. Boynton was the only physician who expressed much anxiety about it, and his views were invariably soothed by the belief that the President’s robust constitution would eventually conquer all his physical complications. At 8:30 A. M. the pulse was 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 19. At noon, pulse 104; temperature, 98.8; respiration, 20. At 5:30 P. M., pulse 112; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 21. The bulletins looked sufficiently unfavorable, but the physicians viewed them with complaisance. Dr. Boynton, however, informed a reporter that the pulse frequently reached 120, but this fact was kept from the family and the public. At 10 o’clock Attorney-General MacVeagh reported as follows:
“There is an increase this evening in the President’s temperature, pulse, and respiration; but it is so slight as not necessarily to indicate that the condition of the blood is producing any new complications. The trouble in the right lung is not increasing, and is causing him less annoyance. He has taken adequate nourishment, and his sleep has been natural and refreshing; so that, if he has gained nothing, he has probably lost nothing during the day.”
The seventy-sixth day.—“Slight progress toward recovery” was reported. The surgeons concluded not to admit that the septic condition of the patient’s blood amounted to pyæmia, and they expressed confidence that the difficulty would be overcome. The President took food in variety, but not with a strong appetite. In the early morning hours he was quite wakeful, and gave way to fits of despondency. In one of these he called aloud to an attendant: “Save me; don’t let me sink.” Words of encouragement were uttered, but for a time he could not bring himself to believe that he yet had hope of recovery. “I fear bringing me here will prove but a roaring farce after all,” said he. He was not readily reassured, and the incident was not regarded as favorable. Still the physicians and newspaper correspondents sent out fair reports to the country, and the people were therefore quite unprepared for the events so near at hand. At 8:30 A. M. the pulse was 100; temperature, 98.4; respiration, 20. At noon, pulse 102; temperature, 98.9; respiration, 21. At 5:30 P. M., pulse 104; temperature, 99.2; respiration, 21. Attorney-General MacVeagh reported to Minister Lowell that all the symptoms were substantially the same as on the previous day, except that the expectoration from the right lung was rather less difficult and less profuse.
The seventy-seventh day.—A day of “unfavorable symptoms.” Great anxiety was experienced by the immediate friends of the honored sufferer, and the physicians acknowledged the gravity of the occasion. His physical weakness had never before been so apparent, and his utter exhaustion seemed ominous of the end. Those who had never before questioned his ability to rally, now began to doubt it; and, when it was found that the pulse frequently reached 130 beats, intelligent men and women were struck with wonder at the persistent vitality of the man. At 8:30 A. M. the pulse was 104; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 21. At noon, pulse 116; temperature, 99.8; respiration, 21. At 5:30 P. M., pulse 104; temperature, 98.6; respiration, 22. Attorney-General MacVeagh cabled as follows:
“There has been no very marked change in the President’s condition, but it is not at this hour reassuring. The different symptoms are almost all slightly aggravated. The temperature and the pulse have fluctuated more than usual, and the respiration is rather more frequent, while the character of the discharges continues to be unsatisfactory. There is, therefore, a sensible increase of anxiety.”
The seventy-eighth day.—“A day of deep anxiety.” The President was worse. He was sinking beyond reach of the strong arm of science and the willing hands of love, never to be reclaimed by earthly agencies. A chill, continuing half an hour, was followed by perspiration and a rapid rise of temperature. The situation was alarming, although the immediate effects of the chill did not appear as serious as might have been expected,—for the pulse fell, in a few hours, from 120 to 102, the temperature from 102 to 98, and the respiration from 24 to 18. These were phenomenal changes. Yet the word “rigor,” as translated in the medical vocabulary, is invested with nameless terrors, and the condition of the patient was assumed, on all sides, to be precarious in the extreme. The attending physicians were startled, but they did not fail to predict another rally, and a decided improvement in a few days. They did not seem to realize that the crisis was upon them, and the country certainly did not. The Attorney-General cabled to Minister Lowell that “the situation is now probably more grave and critical than at any time heretofore.”
The seventy-ninth day.—Sunday was marked by an increase of fear and anxiety. Another chill, but of shorter duration, was one of the untoward incidents of the day. Dr. Bliss declared that the frequent recurrence of chills would soon wear out the President’s life, but he hoped to devise some means to prevent them. During this last attack the President’s pulse reached 134, possibly 140. Dr. Boynton had some clear ideas regarding the case. On Sunday night he said:
“The President’s condition to-day, compared with yesterday, shows a slight improvement.”
“Do you not think the low pulse and temperature of last night and this morning were favorable indications?”
“I do not. The low pulse and temperature, the sound sleep, and the freedom from cough and expectoration were indications of a very low state of vitality, and can not be considered as favorable symptoms. If he grows stronger, there will be a rise in the pulse and temperature, and his cough and expectoration will return.”
“Is it true that you stated last night that the President’s condition was hopeless?”
“No, sir. I said his case was extremely critical, but not hopeless.”
“What is your opinion to-night?”
“The same as last night. For several weeks he has at times made satisfactory progress, but, in each instance, the improvement has been followed by a relapse, which left him on a lower plane of vitality than before. This feature of his case is peculiar to most cases of chronic pyæmia. The President has a wonderful constitution, but it is doubtful if it is sufficient to carry him on to recovery.”
This conversation is interesting from the fact that it shows the very correct logic of one of the President’s most intimate attendants only twenty-four hours preceding the final catastrophe. Dr. Bliss was slightly more confident than Dr. Boynton. No points are given from the physicians’ bulletins, for the reason that it was thought best on Sunday to suppress some of the more unfavorable indications, and the bulletins are therefore not history. At 10 P. M., Attorney-General MacVeagh cabled the following: