The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1882-01-23
A Picture Of Guiteau.
Drawn by an Atlanta Constitution Artist.


'There comes Guiteau," ran around the
court room as the door opened and Marshal
Henry's burly form appeared. Behind the
marshal, walking so close to the jury that he
actually brushed its knees, came shambliDg
figure. The shoulders, square and broad, we're
hunched up-the closely-shaved head yell
settled and crouching between them, moved
furtively from one side to the other. This was
Guiteau, the assassin OF Garfield. He was clad
in cheap gray suit that fit loosely. A pair OF
cheap eyeglasses hung from his coat LAP
pei His hair was cut very close, and showed
the bumps of an ugly skull. His mouth vas
large, and of changeable expression, the thick
lips twitching aud curving constantly. He
appeared to recognize no one in the crowds
through which he passed, his eyes shifting un-
easily until he reached the counsePs desk.
There he stopped and whispered few words
to Scoville, who listened with a weary, half
sad air. Scoville made no reply, and the as
sassin, putting his shoulders up again and
dropping his head down between them, hustled
on to the prisoners dock. Reachingt that, he sd-
justed his chair, pulled two newspapers out of
his pocket, and sat down. Suddenly he said,
in loud voice: "Happy New Year to all Of
you. I've had very happy New Year. had
big greception-high-toned, middle-toned, low
toned f0lkS. In1S SHOWS LnaJ Lno PUBIC Is Win
me and wants me acquitted"
1t is impossible to describe the vague, per-
functory way in which this was said. The ut
terance was purely mechanical-the manner
distracted. 1t was addressed to nobody, being
delivered apparently to his newspaper. Tho
tones were dry, hollow, without the slightest
emphasis, pause or infection. They were do
livered precisely as If they were turned out Of
a cast-iron throat by crank. Indeed they re-
minded me of only one deliverance ever
heard. That was when curious Swiss clock
opened its dial and cuckoo hoped out,
crowed three automatic crows, wheeled on its
base, and vanished into the clock again. Hav-
ing made his speech, Guiteau took his eye
glasses, held them to his eyes, and apparently
buried himself in his newspaper. I took ad-
vantage of the lull to study the face Of the
most remarkable assassin Of history. I ap-
preached this study bewildered by two opin-
ions. Stillson Hutchins had said to me with
that fine emphasis for which he is famous:
ellis eye is wonderful one. 1t is not the
eye of wild beast, bat it is the eye Of human
being with savage beast behind it glazing at
you through it,"
was at some pains to justify the picturesque
statement, but confess that was unable to
do so saw no savage beast behind Guiteau's
eye, nor any trace of one; and as L have been
to menagerie or two, fatter myself that l
know wild beast when see 1t. I only saw
a furtive cunning eye, with scared, hunted
look in it that the fearless unconsciousness OF
INSANITY never gives 10 ltb buDiCClS. a ALI
afraid that Mr.. Hutchins let his love Of the
picturesque get away with his judgment. Tho
other opinion with which found myself bur-
dened came from Henry Watterson, who had
written:
'He is weird and wizened apotheosis Of
dead-beatism."
am unable to say whether saw this in
Guiteau or not / don't think would have
known what it was if had seen 1t. So that
Mr.. Watterson may have been right: Ger
wrong. As for me, it struck me that Guiteau
was the brightest man 10 the court room. do
not think so smart prisoner ever before went
on trial for his life. His defence is unique
it is sparkling-and full of an audacity and
cheek that is either sublime or insane. 1t Ia
not insanity 1t is too well ordered for that
He never misses point in the trial. He never
throws in a shot at random. With wonderful
self-control he sits, his eyeglasses resting on
his paper, but his eyes, halfshut, throbbing,
rolling under his glasses, hearing every word
that is said, noting every motion that is made,
conscious that at any moment he may be shot
dead in his seat yet sitting silent with smile
ON his lips, and only his half-sheathed eyes
showing the tormenting fears that devour him
What a miracle he has worked already. he
is the hero of the most causeless, wanton and
atrocious assassination that ever stained hu-
man annals. Only month ago running
amuck through bowling and cursiDg crowds
as he hurried from the court room to his van,
room that laughs good-humoredly at his
speeches and only complains that he does not
talk enough. Only month ago that same
court room sat hushed and horror stricken as
the bones of the murdered President were
placed before his assassin, and now the ghast-
illness of that scene is forgotten, and the trial
of that assassin is esteemed the best farce Of
the day. Will the cunning that has made this
change in the public, that hangs about the
court room, affect the jury?
think not. Guiteau is surrounded by
mesh that he cannot break through. As
shrewd as he is he has not been able to de-
ceive single expert who has examined his
case. The prosecution has summoned the abb
lest experts in the country, and their testimony
has been uniform, positive and intelligent
against the prisoner. His previous life has
been sifted, and nothing found to justify the
belief of insanity. 1t has simply demonstrated
that he was an uncomfortable dead beat, too
lazy to work, but greedy of good things, and
hence petty thief. His whole career has
been one Of makeshifts- swindling a
boarding house keeper, next bleeding politi-
ciap, then beating community. The key
note to his life is his inordinate vanity. Pos
sessed with the idea that he was lecturer. an
author, an orator, preacher, q lawyer,
statesman, and having not the slightest quail
fication of either, he has been sort Of intense
Tittlebat Titmouse, with higher vanity,
deeper wrongs and swifter impulses than his
English prototype.