“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 6 P. 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 the clouds of death were already lowering. But there was something infinitely more startling to come shortly.
At 10 P. 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.