Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-02-17
MRS. SC0VILLE TO MRS. GARFIELD.
Sisters Plea for Forgiveness for the
Assassin Guiteau.

A Sisters Plea for Forgiveness for the
Assassin Guiteau.
CHICAGO, Feb. 10, 1SS2.-Mrs. Lucretia Gar
field, Cleveland, Ohio-DRAR MADAM: Hum.
bly, address you, trusting you will not turn
a deaf ear even upon despised Guiteau' s sister.
All these weary months have patiently
waited until the time should come for me to
speak, when, after the verdict, which be-
lieved would be, "Not guilty, by reason of in
sanity / could sayswith shanefacedness,
'sMy heart bleeds for you and the sainted
dead" My poor brother was not his own
master when Ne fired that shot. Forgive him
look with compassion upon him and me. l
have counted the hours for the time when I
could say to you, as I have said from the
moment when the terrible news was brought
me on that dark day in July, ''he was brain
sick, deluded, crazy forgive him even as
Christ shall forgive us ALL"
Both our martyred president and his family
having shown such an example of Christian
fortitude and trust in the Most High as the
world may well revere, am led to hope that
the sense of wrong suffered, would, "when
the truth was shown" be tempered with that
merciful forgiveness which is indeed Christian.
All those dreadful weeks of the presidents
suffering prayed that the Father above us
all would spare his life. Day and night my
beseeching cry went up: "God save the presi
dent" thought he could not die when the
people of the whole world called nightly un-
to Him to interpose in his behalf, said:
"surely, He will show forth his glory" But
alas, the tenderest care of the wife and family
and and friends and the prayers
of the people could not move
the ruler of the universe to countermand the
DEGREES of his allwise and mysterious provi-
dence-could not keep in his poor, despoiled
1lxy ,f,,1 70 fho
vigils, the tears and the prayers of his family,
| of the nation and of the world, the midnight
bells were tolled, the midnight cry was heard,
ssThe president is dead"
We gazed upon the lifeless clay-gone,
gone to dwell with the glorified saints OF the
Lord, and we let our tears flow without stunt,
and we said: sis there no God?" Truly it
| alone, can judge where lies the moral response
bility. In July, when it was reported that the
suffering president was likely to recover,
wrote a letter to you, stating the facts
| in my brothers. life. and every theory
of this case, thinking that both your
self and the president would be glad to
| know that poor crazy man had done the
| deed, instead of the hardened wretch he was
painted. At the time it was reported the
president was interested in anything regarding
| the terrible affair-that he even said one day:
sI wonder what that poor fellow would think
| if he knew that I had forgiven him." Oh!
| that might know from his own wife if that
were true, my heart would be still. In heaven
we know as we are known. The saiHted
Garfield knows now that he "had to do it,"
and feel sure that if he could speak he would
say: "Forgive that deluded man, even as
| forgive hi:i; safely keep him from do
| ing any more harm, but forgive"
Il never sent the letter. The
report came almost Immediately that the
president was worse, and knew you would
not wish to be troubled with anything from
Guiteau' sister. hoped by waiting to come
before you with better shOwing-vindicated,
so far as insanity is an excuse for crime, but
my heart burns within me, and notwithstand
| ing that unjust verdict and barbarous sen
| tence, must speak. My poor brother, shut
away from the world for months in a tomb
like cell, not ray of sunshine, not a blade of
grass, not flower, not a bird, not friend to
speak kind worldwide is there to speak 10
l his behalf if not his heartbrokea sister? Did
not speak the very stones would cry out.
| His sainted mother, the purest and noblest
| of women, that mother who gave her life for
| his, who suffered torture for seven long years
| because of his birth, until death made her
| free; that father, tender and kind, but mis-
| taken in his direction of the boy, would, if
possible, make their voices heard from beyond
| the grave, even as / verify believe would the
i
verdict. What of that verdict? Was it &C
cording 10 truth, justice, and mercy. Verify,
no!
I had hoped to be able to cast myself at the
| feet of Judge Cox--to be able, SO long as had
breath, to look up to him as the grand, the
noble, the just judge, who could stand
as firm as the everlasting rocks
the whole world. But, alas! my idol! And
| that jury-God only knows how had trust
| ed in their honesty and steadfastness. l had
watched their faces day by day, had seen their
| eager, absorbed, solemn interest when my
! brother was reading his last address, where he
came to the recitation of those few lines OF
the story, "John Browns body lies moul-
| dering in the grave, but his soul goes march
| ing along Commencing in the low, sad
melody of the song, breaking up and ending
in the wierd hysterical laugh, the awful laugh
of the insane, one could feel the silence.
| l thought ''surely it is enough;
no power on earth can prevail upon
these men to say, that poor lunatic,
| without revenge, without motive, except to
obey what he deemed the will of God, com
| mitted willful murder" But they did. They
must have reasoned, as some do, that sit is a
good thing to hang crazy man; as an ex-
ample to other crazy men,
| know that my brother has been, In essen
tial matters of judgment, deficient since his
| birth. know that he is an exaggerated
counterpart of his father, who was in some
| things insane; that there is strong heredi
| tary faint of insanity in the family, and that
| he is not now himself. This sudden, super
natural development of intellect in some di-
rections is, of itself, symptom of insanity.
Knowing him, understanding him as l
claim better than anyone else, l as
sert and can prove that my
brother has always intended to do right and
| live honestly. His shortcomings have been
those of an unbalanced, distracted BRAIN, rather
| than bad heart. His heart has ever been
kind and tender as woman, but he has been
most unfortunate. He was neither born
right, reared right, nor married right Even
with his defective organization had he, instead
of being forced'into the Oneida community,
been allowed to obtaina good education, enter
ed upon some practical business, so that his
mind would not drift into vagaries, and, most
| important of all, had he, when married, found
in bis wife a helpful, honest woman,
he might have gone through life comforta-
bly,, happily and respected to its close, as
did MS father; but, alas, his father married
woman who disliked his children, and Charles,
the only one needing a home with them, was
almost turned away from his fathers house
tender in years, weak in body and mind, no
one to guide him, no one to care for him, but
myself. did what could It was but little.
The boy drifted out into the cruel world.
Everything went wrong with him, and now.