Complete Life of William McKinley and Story of His Assassination. Everett Marshall

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ there was little in the President’s stomach at the time of the operation. Moreover, subsequent developments tended to show that this feature of the operation was successful and that none of the contents of the stomach entered the abdominal cavity. If any of the contents had entered the cavity the probability is that peritonitis would have set in.

      The weapon used by the assassin proved to be a five-barreled double-action revolver of 32 caliber. Every chamber contained a bullet, and three remained in the weapon after the shooting.

      It was at first reported that the weapon was a derringer, but this proved to be incorrect.

      Many of the accounts of the assassination vary in detail, which is quite natural under the excitement of the moment, and the fact that no two persons see and hear alike. One account, given by an eye-witness, which differs in some respects from the one with which this chapter begins, is as follows:

      “It was about four o’clock, near the close of the reception in the Temple of Music, and the President, in his customary cordial manner, was reaching forward, with a pleasant smile, to take the hands of the good-natured crowd that was pushing forward. A six-foot colored man, who proved to be a waiter in the Plaza, named James F. Parker, had just shaken hands with the President and was smiling all over with enjoyment, when suddenly, behind him, pressed forward the slight figure of a smooth-faced but muscular young man, whose eyes were wild and glaring, whose head was drooping, and who seemed to me to have sprung up from the floor, as I had not observed him before. The President took no special notice of him, but simply stooped over to shake his hand, without looking, apparently, at the individual.

      “Their palms had hardly touched before I heard two shots in quick succession. A hush and quiet instantly followed. The President straightened up for a moment and stepped back five or six feet. Secretary Cortelyou, who had been standing at his side, burst into tears, and exclaimed, ‘You’re shot!’ The President murmured, ‘Oh, no, it cannot be!’ But Secretary Cortelyou and Mr. Milburn had torn open the President’s vest, and the telltale blood, flowing from the wound in the abdomen, revealed the fearful truth. The President had dropped into a chair and now turned deathly pale. Meanwhile, the other wound in the breast had been uncovered and both Mr. Milburn and Secretary Cortelyou were in tears. The President, seeing their emotion, put up his hand and gently murmured that he was all right, or some reassuring words, and appeared to faint away.

      “The Secret Service men, Foster and Ireland, at one bound seized the assassin, before the smoke had cleared away, and, in fact, before the sound of the second shot was heard. The negro, Parker, also turned instantly and confronted Czolgosz, whose right hand was being tightly held behind him by the detectives and whose face was thrust forward. Parker, with his clenched fist, smashed the assassin three times squarely in the face, and was apparently wild to kill the creature, while all the crowd of artillerymen, policemen, and others, also set upon the object of their wrath.

      “The women in the vast audience were hysterical, and the men were little less than crazy. The transformation from the scene of smiles and gladness of a moment before, to the wild, rushing, mighty roar of an infuriated crowd, was simply awful. The police and military at once set about the task of clearing the building, which they accomplished with amazing celerity and good judgment, considering the fact that a crowd of 50,000 at the outside was pressing into the entrance.”

      A third narrative is still somewhat different. The narrator recites that the President, after he had been shot, was calm, seemed to grow taller, and had a look of half reproach and half indignation in his eyes as he turned and started toward a chair unassisted. Then Secretary Cortelyou and Mr. Milburn went to his help. Secret Service Agent S. R. Ireland and George F. Foster had grappled with the assassin, but, quicker than both, was a gigantic negro, James F. Parker, a waiter in a restaurant in the Plaza, who had been standing behind Czolgosz, awaiting an opportunity, in joyous expectation, to shake the President’s hand. He stood there, six feet four inches tall, with two hundred and fifty pounds of muscular enthusiasm, grinning happily, until he heard the pistol shots. With one quick shift of his clenched fist he knocked the pistol from the assassin’s hand. With another he spun the man around like a top, and, with a third, he broke Czolgosz’s nose. A fourth split the assassin’s lip and knocked out several teeth, and when the officers tore him away from Parker the latter, crying like a baby, exclaimed, “Oh, for only ten seconds more!”

CHAPTER II.

       McKINLEY’S FIGHT FOR LIFE.

       Table of Contents

      The courage exhibited on the battlefield, when the whole being is aroused and the nerves are tingling with a thrill of excitement, is worthy of the highest praise, but to show fortitude and resigned courage in a battle for life, when the approach of death is heralded by unfailing signs, requires a hero. Such was the lamented Chief Executive in the trying hours following the attack of the assassin. Few of those about President McKinley on that memorable day expected to see him survive the night.

      Prompt work on the part of the surgeons and a rugged constitution prevailed over wounds considered mortal. The President was under the care of the most skillful practitioners, who were encouraged by the favorable turn, and they, by their bulletins, which were full of hopefulness and buoyancy, led the nation and the entire world to believe that their distinguished patient would soon be back at his desk. All realized the gravity of the situation; nevertheless few anticipated any but a favorable outcome.

      Beginning on the eventful Friday night, the official statements sent out were encouraging. While the normal pulse is about 80, the fact that McKinley’s was from 120 to 128 was not considered cause for alarm. In all cases where an operation is undergone, a high pulse follows for some days. During the week the President lay wounded his averaged 120, high under normal conditions, but not alarming in the case of a wounded man.

      Dr. P. M. Rixey, the family physician, was the most constant watcher at the bedside of the wounded man. After McKinley had recovered sufficiently to talk, which was on the third day, he would ask regarding the condition of Mrs. McKinley. The assurance that she was bearing up bravely seemed to act beneficially on the President.

      Mrs. McKinley was permitted to see her husband daily, but only for a few minutes at a time. As was his wont in former days to cheer his invalid wife, so it was a pleasure for her to show a reciprocal spirit, which she did. The daily meetings were those of true lovers, and every eye in the sick room would be wet ere the parting kiss of the day would be given.

      These visits, at all times brief, were still a source of deep satisfaction to the stricken President. The outcome of the struggle vitally interested McKinley, more because of the effect his death would have on his wife and on the nation than for personal reasons.

      A man of sterling Christian character, pious and devout, he did not fear death. The end had no terrors for him, but he felt it would leave a void, a vacancy, which none other could fill. The invalid who for 30 years had relied on him alone as her support and protector, her aid and comfort, still needed him. It was parting from her that made him feel reluctant to lay down his life’s work.

      Cares of state engrossed little of his attention during that week spent in the Milburn residence. He had builded well, and the dedication, as it were, of his noble edifice of national policy, in which all culminated, was in the memorable speech of the day preceding the fateful Friday. Several times during his last days he smiled upon being complimented for that truly great oration, but he did not live to learn how thoroughly it was appreciated throughout the length and breadth of the land.

      Dr. Charles McBurney, the eminent New York specialist, was summoned to Buffalo the evening of the shooting. He did not arrive until Sunday morning, however.

      The СКАЧАТЬ