In Montreal, Canada, the provincial synod of the Anglican Church held a memorial service in Christ Church cathedral in honor of the memory of President McKinley. The Duke of York, who was in the city at the time, attended the service, and gave every evidence of that grief which he had at other times expressed. It had been the intention of the city authorities of Montreal to give a series of fetes in honor of the Duke and the Duchess, as has been the custom in most of the cities which they have visited in the course of their tour about the world, forming the better acquaintance of the subjects of the English King. But these plans were abandoned, although a large sum of money had already been expended. Neither the Duke nor his wife wished to proceed with the festivities.
London was a city of sorrow. The recent death of the Queen had called forth expressions of sorrow from President McKinley and the people of the United States which had touched a very tender chord in the nature of the Englishmen. And they were grieved beyond expression at the disaster that had befallen the Republic. They devoted the day to a special service in Westminster Abbey, a rare performance indeed. Portraits of President McKinley were displayed in all the shop windows, and were freely sold on the streets. All the papers of the British capital printed expressions of sorrow and of appreciation of the good qualities of the man who had passed away, and all expressed the hope that the nation would be comforted in its grief. One of the most touching features of their publications was the tone of sympathy for Mrs. McKinley. There was a pathos about these words which keenly recalled the late bereavement of the nation of Victoria.
PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS CABINET.
Funeral services were held in far-away Manila. All the government offices were closed, and the buildings were draped in black. There was a peculiar sadness in the crowds that passed up and down the streets. Most business houses were closed for half the day, some for the entire day. Among the expressions of sorrow sent from Manila was one from Emilio Aguinaldo. He declared President McKinley a noble enemy, and a valued friend, and for the good of all the people under the flag of the Republic he could not but look on the death of such a man, particularly in such a manner, as an unparalleled calamity. He gave utterance to the most vigorous condemnation of the dastardly act which cost the President his life.
And so, from the rising to the setting of the sun, “there was sorrow in the cities.” It was not in the big cities alone. Wherever communities had been gathered, there was sorrow, and the effort to express the grief that was universal throughout the nation. Churches were filled with communicants and friends. Men and women who had not been in the habit of attending divine services made this the occasion when they paid their tribute of respect to the memory of a great man fallen. Pastors and orators employed their best talents in extolling the virtues of the dead, and holding out hope to the living.
And not even in the cities—large or small—was the grief monopolized. There was not a farm house, perhaps, in the land where grief was absent. In those hours when the service was being conducted over the bier of the martyred President in Canton, there was a bowing of heads throughout every part of the land. The beneficent results of the public labors of this man had reached to the farthest home, and the fame of his loyal manhood had penetrated all hearts. He was loved and honored and mourned. And the nation paused at the brink of his grave, in body or in spirit, whether they stood in the city he had called his home, and whether they held to their places at any other point in the broad land.
The sorrow of the cities bathed all the land in tears.
Of all the tributes paid to the memory of the dead President, none approached in majesty and impressiveness that utter abandonment of all occupation for the moments when the burial was actually taking place. For five minutes, from 2:30 to 2:35, there was absolute rest throughout the nation. That was the time when the body of the murdered President was being lifted to its last final repose.
And from the Atlantic to the Pacific, not a wheel turned for those five minutes.