[untitled]
“The King is dead; long live the
King!” Men die, while nations live. Yet men of character and force
in their day and generation do not really die. They live on in the
memories of their countrymen and in the influences which last long
after them. Rich is that nation which has possessed great and good
rulers. They are one of the essentials to good government and they
add wealth to the whole world. America has been rich in splendid
men, who were statesmen, preachers, orators, but especially has
it been blessed in wise and faithful rulers. Washington, Adams,
Jefferson began a line in which McKinley has been the last to fall,
and as each has died the country has put on emblems of woe, with
few exceptions, and thanked God that such rulers lived to bless
their age and people. Of the many great names not born to die, Washington,
Lincoln and McKinley will stand out brightest in the galaxy now
passed into history. Washington, father of his country; Lincoln,
saviour of his country; McKinley, lover of his country. Each builded
better than he knew, and each possessed not only native genius for
government of the highest order, but the loftiest kind of private
character. Character gives strength to genius. It is fortunate for
the rising generation that in McKinley there were all the elements
that make a Man rather than simply those elements which make a Hero.
He was every inch a Man! Wise as a statesman, prudent as an executive,
strong in council and valiant in political conflicts, he was yet
everywhere, and at all times, the gentlemanly gentleman, the manly
man, and it is this which has drawn all the world unto him. Never
before in the history of the nations did all the ends of the earth
put on habiliments of mourning upon the death of a prince or peasant
as it did September 19, the day of the funeral of President McKinley.
From the Siberian ranges to the most southerly regions of the Cape
of Good Hope, and from Alaska to Patagonia, as well as in the islands
of the seas, there was weeping because a great ruler had departed.
The assassin’s dagger had made the poignancy of the grief of his
taking off the more severe, but had he died in sickness the same
whole world would have mourned. It was the spontaneous tribute of
the throbbing heart of all humanity to a ruler who wore no crown
save the plaudits of the wide, wide world. And such a crown has
not been worn since the days of King David, who was known, however,
to but a small proportion of the then peoples of the earth.
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