When the train reached London and passed to Westminster, it was early in the morning. A group of some thirty gentlemen, connected with the ceremonies, was at the station; among them the Duke of Norfolk, About two hundred people looked silently on while the body was removed from the train to the hearse, and the funeral cortege moved on to Westminster Hall at once and entered the Palace Yard just as "Big Ben" tolled the hour of one like a funeral knell.
The coffin was placed in position for lying in state in Westminster Hall, and at about 3 o'clock Canon Wilberforce conducted a special service in the presence of Henry and Herbert Gladstone and several members of the House of Commons.
The scenes that followed were remarkably impressive and unparalleled. The people began to arrive at Westminster at 2 o'clock in the morning. The line formed was continually augmented by all classes of people,—peers, peeresses, cabinet members, members of the House of Commons, military and naval officers, clergymen, costermongers, old and young, until 6 o'clock, when the doors were opened and the procession commenced to stream into the Hall, and passed the catafalque.
This long procession of mourners continued all day Thursday and Friday. Two hundred thousand people, at least, paid homage to the dead statesman. On Friday evening, after the crowd had departed, large delegations, representing Liberal organizations from all parts of the kingdom, visited the Hall, by special arrangement, and fifteen hundred of them paid respect to the memory of their late leader.
Saturday morning, May 28, thousands of people assembled in the square outside to witness the passage of the funeral cortege from Westminster Hall, where it was formed, to the Abbey, to find sepulchre in the tomb of kings. The procession passed through two lines of policemen. It was not a military parade, with all its pomp, but a ceremony made glorious by the homage of the people, among them the greatest of the nation. The funeral was in every respect impressive, dignified and lofty, in every way worthy the great civilian, and the nation that accorded him a public burial with its greatest dead. And the people were there. Every spot on which the eye rested swarmed with human beings. They looked from the windows of the hospital, and from the roofs of houses. Everybody was dressed in black.
The principal officials had assembled in Westminster Hall at 10 o'clock. The Bishop of London, the Right Rev. Mandell Creighton, D.D., read a brief prayer and at 10.30 o'clock the procession had formed and slowly passed through the crowds who with uncovered heads stood on either side of short pathway, a distance 300 yards, to the western entrance of the Abbey, between two ranks of the Eton Volunteers, the boys of the school where Mr. Gladstone received his early education, in their buff uniforms.
The pall-bearers who walked on each side of the coffin were perhaps the personages who attracted the most attention during the day. They were the Prince of Wales, the Duke of York, the Marquis of Salisbury, the Earl of Kimberly, A. J. Balfour, Sir William Vernon-Harcourt, the Duke of Rutland, Lord Rosebery, Baron Rendel and George Armitstead, the two latter being life-long friends of the deceased statesman.
When Mrs. Gladstone entered the Abbey the whole assembly rose and remained standing until she was seated. This honor was accorded only once beside—when the Princess of Wales, the Princess Mary and the Duchess of York appeared.
The Abbey was filled with people. Every gallery, balcony and niche high up among the rafters held a cluster of deeply interested spectators. Temporary galleries had been erected in long tiers around the open grave, which was in the floor of the Abbey. There were 2,500 persons assembled in the Abbey, all—both men and women—clothed in black, except a few officials whose regalia relieved this sombre background by its brilliancy. The two Houses of Parliament sat facing each other, seated on temporary seats on opposite sides of the grave. About them were the mayors of the principal cities, delegates from Liberal organizations, representatives of other civic and political societies, representatives of the Non-Conformists, while the long nave was crowded with thousands of men and women, among them being most of the celebrities in all branches of English life. In each gallery was a presiding officer with his official mace beside him, whose place was in the centre, and who was its most prominent figure. It was a distinguished assembly in a famous place. Beneath were the illustrious dead; around were the illustrious living.
The members of the bereaved family sat in the stall nearest the bier—Mrs. Gladstone, her sons Henry, Herbert and Stephen; with other members of the family, children and grand-children, including little Dorothy Drew, Mr. Gladstone's favorite grand-child, in her new mourning.