The Life and Work of James A. Garfield, Twentieth President of the United States / Embracing an Account of the Scenes and Incidents of His Boyhood; the Struggles of His Youth; the Might of His Early Manhood; His Valor As a Soldier; His Career As a Statesman; His Election to the Presidency; and the Tragic Story of His Death.

by John Clark Ridpath

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.

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.