The explosion had occurred in Lingg’s cell. The night before Lingg had appeared in one of his complacent moods, and when the death-watch eyed him closely the next morning nothing unusual was discovered in his demeanor. Lingg seemed to be resting easily on his couch, and there was not the slightest indication that anything tragic was contemplated. While the death-watch, Deputy Sheriff Osborne, was giving his attention to something else for a moment, however, Lingg saw his opportunity, rose stealthily from his bed, seized a candle that flickered dimly in a corner of the cell, and, jumping back to his couch, put the bomb in his mouth and applied the flame. In an instant a loud explosion followed.
Officials were soon in the cell and found Lingg lying on his side on the couch, with one arm thrown over his head and the other resting on a little table. A stream of blood was coursing down the pillow, and pools of it had gathered upon the bedding. The deputies raised him up gently. A ghastly sight met their gaze. The lower jaw had been almost entirely blown away, the upper lip was completely torn to shreds, the greater part of his nose was in tatters, only a fragment of his tongue remained, and every vestige of front teeth had disappeared. What remained of his cheeks looked like flesh torn by vultures, and every jagged part bled profusely. The inside of his upper jaw was horribly lacerated. It looked as though no man could survive such a wound for a moment after its infliction. And yet the bomb-maker was alive and breathing regularly.
Lingg was at once removed from the cell to a large bath-room near the Jailor’s office, and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. Drs. Fenger, Moyer and Bluthardt were at once sent for, and they responded immediately. They applied such restoratives as medical science suggested, but they found no little difficulty in stopping the bleeding and preventing the blood from running down the man’s throat and interfering with his breathing. Now and then he coughed, and with each spell emitted large quantities of blood. The pallet upon which he rested, and the floor underneath, were saturated with blood, and its strong flow attested a superb physical condition—a wonderful vitality.
LINGG’S LAST WORDS.
From a Photograph.
During all the operations of the surgeons Lingg remained perfectly conscious and eyed them as complacently as though they had been at work on some other patient. He showed no concern and never quivered. While calmly stretched on the cot, he closely observed all who entered the room and seemed surprised at their consternation. It was only when some police officers entered to look at him that he showed signs of nervousness, and then, with pantomimic flourishes of his hand, he indicated that he desired them to leave. The signs were correctly interpreted; for the moment the officers left he quieted down easily, and a grateful look from his eyes expressed his satisfaction. John C. Klein, who afterwards became famous for the active part he took in the troubles in the island of Samoa—readers will remember that there was a great deal of diplomatic correspondence on account of them, that there was even talk of war between the United States and Germany—was at that time a reporter for one of the Chicago dailies, and in that capacity was present in the room. While still being operated upon, Lingg beckoned to Klein for pencil and paper, and, these being handed to him, he wrote, in German: “Please support my back. When I lie down I cannot breathe.” That piece of paper, stained with Lingg’s blood, is still in existence, and is shown in the engraving.
JOHN C. KLEIN.
Everything was done to alleviate Lingg’s sufferings, but he died at 2:45 that afternoon.
The bomb-maker’s remains were placed in a neat coffin, and Bailiff Eagan was detailed to critically examine Lingg’s cell. It was discovered that when Lingg had lighted the bomb, which had been placed firmly between the teeth, he was reclining on his cot, with his head near the wall. This was indicated by the fact that Eagan found portions of the man’s mustache, pieces of the tongue and shreds of flesh clinging firmly to the wall nearest where the head had rested. A piece of the tallow candle which had stood before its tragic use in a corner of the cell was found in the bed, and the wall where the head had lain was not only marred by the almost direct force of the explosion, but thickly bespattered with blood. All this indicated unmistakably the means Lingg had used to light the bomb and the position he had assumed when applying the fatal spark.