Ambushed!: Chapters 12–16

Despite the early hour, hundreds more well-wishers joined the procession behind the president or stood along the sidewalk silently paying tribute to him.

Strong men lifted Garfield and the mattress from the wagon onto the rail car, which had been retrofitted to accommodate him.

In Elberon the night before, under nearly a full moon, hundreds of railroad workers had toiled in the oppressive heat.

While James Garfield struggled to recover in Elberon, Charles Guiteau remained confined to his Washington cell.

Although Guiteau was unharmed, Sergeant Mason was arrested. He would later face an army court-martial.

Bliss continued to release medical bulletins that played down Garfield's failing health, going so far as to say on September 15, “He has certainly not retrograded, but, on the contrary, has made some progress toward convalescence.”

Bliss continued to release medical bulletins that played down Garfield's failing health, going so far as to say on September 15, “He has certainly not retrograded, but, on the contrary, has made some progress toward convalescence.”

The virulent infection inside Garfield's body had spread.

"No," Garfield said in a somber voice, “my work is done.”

While the solemn group waited, the president's gasps of breath continued for several more minutes until...silence.

Overcoming the initial shock of her husband's death, Lucretia summoned the strength she knew was needed to cope with the days ahead. Her composure impressed her children and others around her.

Although Garfield's three older children spent the summer in the White House with their ailing father, they were unprepared for his death.

The headlines of the Daily Record-Union in Sacramento, California, dramatically announced, “DEAD. The Long Struggle at Last Ended. DEATH FINALLY PREVAILS.”

James Garfield served just two hundred days as president. For eighty of them, he suffered in bed as Americans followed daily reports about his health. They felt as if they knew him intimately, like a family member in the upstairs bedroom struggling to recover from an illness.

Harper's Weekly called his death "the bitter disappointment of reasonable hopes founded upon his singular fitness for his great office.”

Some observers considered Garfield’s assassination to be the tragic result of vicious political quarrels. Former President Rutherford Hayes wrote in a letter two weeks after the death, “Perhaps its most important lesson, is the folly, the wickedness, and the danger of the extreme and bitter partisanship which so largely prevails in our country.”

The assassin wasn't told of his victim’s death that Monday night. But
 Charles Guiteau probably guessed when he heard Washington's pealing bells.

Early Wednesday morning, an undertaker arrived at Francklyn Cottage with a casket.

The city constructed a large pavilion in a park, and the casket lay on a platform decorated with flowers.

The doctors wanted to learn exactly what killed him. That information was needed as evidence in Charles Guiteau’s murder trial. They arranged for an autopsy at Francklyn Cottage, sending for an expert in postmortem examinations.

For weeks before Garfield's death, medical journals and general newspapers had accused Bliss of mismanaging his care. A Kentucky newspaper published one such dig at Bliss’s handling of the case: "The people of the United States never fully appreciated the force of the aphorism 'Ignorance is Bliss,’ until President Garfield was shot.”

Some physicians said there was nothing inevitable about Garfield's death from the bullet wound.

Still, many experts have concluded that Garfield's wound was not necessarily fatal, even given the limits of 1881 medical technology and knowledge. He might have survived if the doctors simply allowed his body to heal on its own.

Reporters wrote about the court proceedings and dug up background about Guiteau, the lawyers, and the witnesses who testified.

The district attorney produced notes that Guiteau had sent to Garfield and Secretary of State Blaine. In these, Guiteau revealed his indignation at being refused a job in the new administration.

The attorney offered letters written by Guiteau that demonstrated his erratic and often irrational behavior, starting from childhood. Scoville put acquaintances and relatives on the witness stand to describe the defendant's odd conduct.

The trial's most riveting witness was Charles Guiteau himself.

After less than an hour of deliberations, the twelve men returned to the courtroom.

“Guilty as indicted, sir,” replied the foreman.

The jury's lightning-quick decision showed that the public sentiment to hang Guiteau had sealed his fate even before the trial began.

Near the end of the prayer, which Guiteau had written earlier in the day, he said,
 “Arthur, the President, is a coward and an ingrate...but Thou, Righteous Father, will judge him....Farewell, ye men of earth.”

Except for his enlarged spleen, a sign of a malaria infection, Guiteau's body revealed nothing unusual.

Each member of Garfield's family profoundly missed his presence and influence.

The scathing articles and editorials had diminished their reputations.

Members of the team who weren't government employees submitted bills to Congress for their services. That rankled the critics.

In December 1882, Congress allocated payment, which in most cases was less than a third of what each doctor billed.

Many Americans lauded Mason and donated thousands of dollars to a fund for his legal expenses and for support of his wife and toddler son.

Garfield's death and his assassin's trial stayed in the headlines for many more months. Yet nearly a century and a half after that fateful July day, James Garfield's life and his presidency have been almost forgotten.

Garfield’s assassination by a disgruntled job seeker spurred the public into demanding an end to the spoils system of hiring government employees.

To prevent shock and infection, he would be given fluids and antibiotics intravenously through a sterile tube and needle directly into his bloodstream.