Chapter 60

“Lowell,Minister,London:

“The President passed a comparatively quiet and comfortable day, but this evening he had another chill of less duration than that of yesterday, but sufficient to increase the very great anxiety already existing. He has also been slowly growing weaker, and his present condition excites the gravest apprehensions.”

The last day.—Monday, September 19, brought the final eclipse of hope. It is not easy to describe it in these pages in such way as will do full justice to the subject for the American people; because,first, its facts are so incredible as to appear quite outside the range of history; and,second, the people, the great masses, can not yet understand how their beloved President could be so foully murdered without the swift annihilation of the murderer. The human mind does not always remember that the methods of justice must be quite distinct and wholly dissimilar from those of crime, and that the cause of law and order is promoted by this distinction. And possibly it will never be taught to remember this lesson invariably.

Upon this fateful Monday morning, the President was prostrated by a severe chill, called “rigor” by the physicians. It proved to be weakening beyond precedent. During its continuance, the pulse ran up to 143, and for a long time remained above 140. It decreased gradually in the afternoon, and when it was found that there was no recurrence of the chill in the evening, the promise of a restful night was thought to be good. The physicians were not agreed as to the responsible cause of the patient’s crisis. Dr. Boynton lost his hopeful tone early in the day, but Dr. Bliss remained comparatively sanguine till the last moment. No one immediately connected with the case anticipated the death of the sufferer, however, for several days yet, and it was remarked that even Mrs. Garfield, although greatly fatigued, was by no means despondent. She could not realize that death was even then robbing her of her heart’s dearest treasure.

CHART SHOWING THE PULSE, TEMPERATURE, AND RESPIRATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD, THROUGHOUT HIS ILLNESS.

GENERAL D. G. SWAIM.

The President rested quietly during the afternoon, and it was found that he had rallied from the effect of the chill in a manner to surprise the physicians. His mind was bright, the dressing of the wound did not fatigue him, and after it was over he asked for a hand-glass, taking which he examined his face and said he could not understand how he should be so weak when he looked so bright. This was at 6P. M.Dr. Bliss remarked, that after such a rallying there was hope, but the trouble was want of strength. After the closest examination, the surgeons said it was possible for the patient to live a week, even granting that present conditions were to carry him off. Drs. Bliss, Agnew, and Hamilton, all concurred in this view, and it was sent out to the country in the dispatches of the associated press. Although such a message was designed to be pacifying, people every-where were startled. It was a virtual concession that all hope of recovery had been abandoned, and that theclouds of death were already lowering. But there was something infinitely more startling to come shortly.

At 10P. M., while the President was asleep, General Swaim noticed that his limbs were cold. To warm them, he procured a flannel cloth, heated it at the fire and laid it over the knees. He heated another cloth and laid it over the President’s right hand, and then sat down beside the bed. The sad occurrences of the night are thus related in General Swaim’s words:

“I was hardly seated when Dr. Boynton came in and felt the President’s pulse. I asked him how it seemed to him. He replied: ‘It is not as strong as it was this afternoon, but very good.’ I said: ‘He seems to be doing well.’ ‘Yes,’ he answered, and passed out. He was not in the room more than two minutes.

“Shortly after this the President awoke. As he turned his head on awakening, I arose and took hold of his hand. I was on the left hand side of the bed as he lay. I remarked: ‘You have had a nice comfortable sleep.’

“He then said, ‘O Swaim, this terrible pain,’ placing his right hand on his breast about over the region of the heart. I asked him if I could do any thing for him. He said, ‘Some water.’ I went to the other side of the room and poured about an ounce and a half of Poland water into a glass and gave it to him to drink. He took the glass in his hand, I raising his head as usual, and drank the water very naturally. I then handed the glass to the colored man, Daniel, who came in during the time I was getting the water. Afterward I took a napkin and wiped his forehead, as he usually perspired on awaking. He then said, ‘O Swaim, this terrible pain—press your hand on it.’ I laid my hand on his chest. He then threw both hands up to the sides and about on a line with his head, and exclaimed: ‘O Swaim, can’t you stop this?’ And again, ‘O Swaim!’

“I then saw him looking at me with a staring expression. I asked him if he was suffering much pain. Receiving no answer, I repeated the question, with like result. I then concluded that he was either dying or was having a severe spasm, and called to Daniel, who was at the door, to tell Dr. Bliss and Mrs. Garfield to come immediately, and glanced at the small clock hanging on the chandelier nearly over the foot of his bed and saw that it was ten minutes past 10 o’clock. Dr. Bliss came in withintwo or three minutes. I told Daniel to bring the light. A lighted candle habitually sat behind a screen near the door. When the light shone full on the President’s face I saw that he was dying. When Dr. Bliss came in a moment after, I said: ‘Doctor, have you any stimulants? he seems to be dying.’ He took hold of the President’s wrist, as if feeling for his pulse, and said: ‘Yes, he is dying.’ I then said to Daniel: ‘Run and arouse the house.’ At that moment Colonel Rockwell came in, when Dr. Bliss said: ‘Let us rub his limbs,’ which we did. In a very few moments Mrs. Garfield came in, and said: ‘What does this mean?’ and a moment after exclaimed: ‘Oh, why am I made to suffer this cruel wrong?’ At 10:30P. M.the sacrifice was complete. He breathed his last calmly and peaceably.”

The great President was dead! It could not be realized at the moment, and yet within the ten minutes succeeding his demise the bells in a hundred cities were tolling his solemn knell. Long before the morning light of the 20th illumined the earth, the hearts of millions throughout the world were heavy with the tidings.

Dead! whispered the wires with lightning haste. Dead! clanged the bells, with their brazen tongues. Dead! was echoed around the world, from lip to lip, until the mournful chorus resounded in a wail of heart-piercing agony. Dead! dead! dead! exclaimed all the people. But not so. Garfield will live forever in the better thoughts of those who loved him, and who are made better for having loved him. The brave heart, the open hand, the great soul, generous and true—these will bless the world for evermore! Garfield is deathless.

“No man was better prepared for death,” remarked a prominent member of his Cabinet. “No, sir, nor for life, which requires infinitely superior preparation,” may be safely responded. The life which he lived required the practice of all the virtues; the crucifixion of all the vices; bravery of the severest type; gentleness, trust, and clear-cut integrity. Practice had perfected in him these rules of life, and for many years he had furnished an example of purity and probity for his fellow-men. This is not taken away with the removal of the body. It can not be taken away. The pages of history will be brightened with it as long as eminent worth remains the goal of human ambition.

His removal has chastened and sweetened the national life. The hearts of all men, from every party, have been drawn together in a common brotherhood, and the country to a man denounces and resents “the deep damnation of his taking off.” Every difference is annihilated in the presence of the universal bereavement. His death forced a cry of grief from the pained heart of every man and woman in christendom who loves good deeds, and reveres the example of an honest life: who admires the power to withstand trial, to bear suffering, and to confront danger; who reveres those that possess the courage of their convictions, however resisted by menace and scorn. No mourning was ever before so universal, so heartfelt, so spontaneous, so lasting. Every consideration of business, of pleasure, of political preferment, of social enjoyment, of speculation, of whatsoever men and women were engaged in, gave way at once to the general lamentation. These things were most observable in our own land, but in some measure they prevailed in every civilized country, and extended even to the isles of the sea. His had been a precious life to his own people for many years. It has become precious to all the world’s millions now, and will remain so through all the ages.

He proved himself a hero many times and on many trying occasions before his eighty days of heroic endurance of the assassin’s stroke; but never was there a brighter example of Christian fortitude and uncompromising submission than that furnished by him during those eighty days. And never was there any thing more heroic and queenly than the devotion of his noble wife from the beginning to the close of this eventful period. Where is there a grander picture of womanhood than Mrs. Garfield? The history of neither ancient nor modern times furnishes its superior. What was position to her, with its pride and circumstance, when placed in the balance with love and duty? Elevation to the place of the most envied woman in the land—the leader of society at the National Capital—she practiced that grand simplicity which made her the fit companion for the eminently practical and busy President while in health, and, when overtaken by his great calamity, nursed him day and night with unceasing devotion. What example couldbe more admirable than this for the women of the present age? Well may great queens acknowledge this true woman their peer, and treat her as a sister.

For the two weeks at Long Branch, and probably for other weeks at Washington, he was kept alive by the indomitable power of his own will and the gentle care of those who loved him better than life. The “little woman” to whom he sent his love before the first shock of his wound had subsided, was the prominent object in his heart of hearts, and well has she proved her title to the place she occupied there. Well did she remember her vow to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, till death. With what faithfulness, with what untiring devotion and pathetic zeal was that vow kept; and how holy must be the associations which now cluster around every act and every aspiration of the womanly faith and love which animated the noble wife in her hour of trial. History furnishes no more prominent example of devoted affection, forgetfulness of self, sacrifice of all comfort, carelessness of every thing except the poor sufferer upon the bed of pain. He was her only object in life. And to him, she was the bright star of destiny, the ever-present angel of hope, the trusty sentinel upon the ramparts of eternity, who menaced and kept at bay the arch-enemy, death. Her faith and hope and love were the medicaments which sustained him through all those weary days, when the services of physicians became as naught in the process of healing. No one could perform for him the tender offices of nursing so well as she; no voice so sweet as hers; no hand so gentle nor so ready to anticipate his wants. In those other years, when they toiled together for the mental, moral, and material advancement of themselves and their children, and knew little of the gay world, he learned this; and now, when they had reached the summit of the loftiest earthly ambition, and she, by right as well as courtesy, was acknowledged the first lady in the land, he still found her the same faithful nurse, with the old devotion to her wifely duty which makes the true woman an angel of mercy, and of more worth in the chamber of sickness than any physician. She never left him in all those weary days of pain, and she it was who, on many occasions,brought him back to consciousness and life by tender care, when it seemed to others that the slender thread which bound him to earth was too weak longer to hold.

THE LAST LOOK AT THE SEA.

Her loving devotion under these conditions was the subject of daily encomiums; and even the medical attendants were unanimous in according her the first praise for attentions which were more important to the patient than any they could render. Without her soothing ministrations, it is thought the life of the President would have been much abridged; and when it is remembered that this toil was constant, day by day, without intermission, except a few hoursfor sleep, wholly self-abnegating, and to the exclusion of all thoughts for her own health or comfort, she may well be cited as one of the noblest examples of true wifehood in any age or country. The ancients were filled with admiration at the devotion of Penelope to Ulysses. How weak and tame is the example when compared with that which now causes American womanhood to be so lovingly reverenced!

That is indeed a sorrowful picture where the President, from his room at Elberon, takes his last view of the sea. Those calm eyes surveyed the mighty waters, whose lashings are regular as the movement of the pendulum, with sensations which will never be known, for he was wholly absorbed in meditation. Once or twice he turned to the faithful wife with a smile upon his attenuated features, but nothing referring to the scene or the situation was said by either. With his hand locked in hers, they communed in spirit, conscious of the presence of God in His works and in His mercy. The anxiety of the people for the great President was not shared by himself, except as his sympathies were now, as always, with the people; but who shall describe the agony of the poor wife as she noted the weakness, daily increasing, of the noble form upon which, for so many joyous years, she had leaned for support? Who shall depict her anguish as she now realized that the sea breezes, which had brought so much health for others, could bring none to her languishing husband? Whatever may have been the hopes of the country, there were no hopes of recovery in this sick chamber now,—only prayers, and possibly something like a dream of a miracle—yearned for, but impossible. What picture can be more saddening, or convey a deeper meaning in its illustration of a holy presence in the chamber of pain, than that individualized by the wife of the President!

The name of Lucretia Garfield will remain linked indissolubly with that of the great soul whose love she honored, so long as wifely heroism is honored of man. In his youth, in the days of his poverty, she made him rich with the countless wealth of her woman’s love. She pointed the way to a great future. To her careful management and sound advice is much of his early successto be attributed. Standing beside him at the coronation of his ambition, in the hour of his glory, she looked upon him with a pride beyond language, as, under such conditions, what wife would not; but in the dark days, which measured the period from July 2d to September 20th, and ended so deplorably to her and the country, it was a wifely love, destitute of all vainglory, with which, in full view of Christendom, she ministered, as only angels do, to the wounded form of her dying husband. No picture could be more pathetic, more instructive, more valuable as an example to all women of this day and coming ages; and it will be so remembered. Garfield’s struggle for a life that had become historic for its manly courage, was brave indeed; but with the history of that struggle there must forever be associated the imperishable name of a wife as great as he in all that makes greatness worth living or dying for in the eyes of men. “Man is the image and glory of God, but the woman is the glory of the man.”

Now the land was covered with a pall. The insignia of mourning greeted the eye everywhere. It was the spontaneous expression of the people, without premeditation or system. Concert of action in a matter where every one moved upon the instant was not feasible; but it was as if the President were lying dead in every habitation. Prompted by a sentiment which defies analysis, but which sprang from that wearisome vigil at his bedside; from those long weeks of testing his pulse, listening to his breathings, and wondering at his courage; from hope deferred, gloom, despair, death—it agitated the depths of universal humanity, and impelled a response to the holiest dictates of every heart. Notwithstanding the all-pervading grief, the demonstration was wonderful and without a parallel. Quite as wonderful for its universality as for any of its physical conformations. A poor widow, in a Western city, draped her doorway with her one black dress. She had no other means of joining in the general expression of grief. Doubtless many other widows did the same thing for exactly the same reason. Others, who had not even a decent dress, hung out a single yard of black muslin, or a less quantity of crape. The poor made as emphatic expression of their grief as the wealthy, and the humblest offeringof honest poverty invariably carried to the heart of the observer a deeper pathos than the ornate decorations with which the rich man symboled his lamentation. This is not said in a spirit of criticism, but to record a fact which is a part of this history, and which teaches a lesson germane to its object.

Not in this country alone were these things prominent, but they were part of the mourning of every land that regards the usages of civilization; and wherever there is recognition of mental and moral worth, there was heartfelt grief at the death of Garfield. The world missed him. He occupied a place of great responsibility, which no one could be better fitted for. His administration gave promise of good results. He was anxious to do good for the sake of good, rather than for popularity. He was resolved to do right regardless of those who might stand in his path. He did every thing in his power that he believed to be right. He opposed, with all his might, every thing he believed to be wrong. He was a just man and forgiving, with no hooks upon which to hang grudges. He was a Christian statesman—the highest type of a chief executive. How much the country lost in his death will never be computed. It is beyond estimate. It is more than any one has yet attempted to figure out. The sum of such a man’s value is quite beyond the reach of mathematics. It can not be measured; therefore grief for his loss is illimitable.

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