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.
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