Destiny of the Republic - Candice Millard [66]
The small caravan was in no hurry to reach its destination. Garfield, although looking forward to seeing Lucretia and visiting his alma mater, wanted to discuss with Blaine his plans for the end of the summer. He had scheduled a tour of the South and planned to give an important, and very likely controversial, speech on reconstruction and race while in Atlanta, Georgia. As they talked, Blaine kept his horse clopping along at a leisurely pace, “in conscious enjoyment of the beautiful morning.”
Like Garfield, Guiteau woke early that morning, excited and restless. When he opened his eyes at 5:00 a.m., he saw not the small, shabby interior of Mrs. Grant’s boardinghouse, where he had been staying for the past six weeks, but a much more elegant room. After reading about the president’s trip in the newspaper two days earlier and deciding that this was the opportunity he had been looking for, Guiteau had moved to the Riggs House, the hotel where Garfield had stayed on the night before his inauguration. For months, Guiteau had spent entire afternoons in the Riggs House lobby, reading the newspapers, using the hotel stationery, and keeping an eye out for the many politicians and prominent men who met there. Now he finally had a room of his own at the prestigious hotel, and need not concern himself about the bill.
As Guiteau dressed for the day in his new, well-appointed room, Mrs. Grant, the owner of his previous boardinghouse, was desperately trying to track him down. For weeks, Guiteau had met her requests for payment with excuses and promises. “I can’t do anything for you to-day, but I certainly will in a day or two,” he had written to her two days earlier. “Please do not mention this to any one, as it will do me harm, as I will settle in a day or two. You can depend on this.” The next day, Mrs. Grant had found his room empty and his bag gone. She refused, however, to admit defeat. In fact, she had placed an advertisement in the Daily Post that was to appear that day: “WANTED: Charles Guiteau, of Illinois, who gives the President and Secretary Blaine as reference, to call at 924 14th St., and pay his board bill.”
Unaware and unconcerned about Mrs. Grant’s advertisement, and filled with a satisfying sense of his own importance that day, Guiteau allowed himself a leisurely morning. It was too early for breakfast, so he walked to Lafayette Park as he had done nearly every day for the past four months. He rested, read the paper, and “enjoyed the beautiful morning air.” At eight, he returned to the Riggs House and had a large meal. “I ate well,” he would later say, “and felt well in body and mind.”
After breakfast, Guiteau returned to his room to retrieve a few items. Over the past few weeks, as he prepared to assassinate the president, he had written a series of letters that he took great satisfaction in knowing would be published to wide readership. One of those letters, however, he had addressed to just one man—General William Tecumseh Sherman. Scrawled on the back of a telegraph sheet, it read:
To General Sherman:
I have just shot the President.
I shot him several times, as I wished him to go as easily as possible.
His death was a political necessity.
I am a lawyer, theologian, and politician.
I am a Stalwart of the Stalwarts.
I was with Gen Grant, and the rest of our men in New York during the canvas.
I am going to the jail.
Please order out your troops, and take possession of the jail at once.
Charles Guiteau
Folding the letters into an envelope, Guiteau put them with his edited copy of The Truth. To the cover of his book, he attached a note to the New York Herald. “You can print this entire book, if you wish to,” it read. “I would suggest that it be printed in sections, i.e., one or two sections a day.… I intend to have it handsomely printed by some first-class New York publisher, but the Herald can have the first chance at it.”
There was one last letter, which Guiteau had written just that morning and now tucked safely into his shirt pocket. Addressed to the White