Some one suggested that the Lake Shore Limited, which is the fastest train between Chicago and New York, be flagged near Hanna’s home, and this was at once done. The railway officials gave their consent by telephone, and when the train approached near the house—the railroad is but a few rods from the Hanna residence—it slacked up and the Senator boarded it. Steam was put on and the delay made up in a few hours. The train reached Buffalo on time.
MRS. McKINLEY ALONE WITH HER BELOVED DEAD.
PRESIDENT McKINLEY’S BODY LYING IN STATE AT BUFFALO.
Senator Hanna took a hopeful view of the situation, and assured everyone with whom he conversed of the recovery of the President. He remained at Buffalo until Tuesday, and then returned to Cleveland, where the G. A. R. Encampment was being held. When he parted from the President he stated that in his opinion, for which he relied chiefly on the physicians, McKinley would be well in a month. Hanna spent Wednesday and Thursday in Cleveland, leaving for Buffalo on a special train when notified of the relapse of the patient. The death of McKinley touched Hanna deeply. He had to be led from the bedside on the occasion of the last interview between the two men. He was almost a total collapse, his face was drawn and his entire form trembled.
On Sunday night, September 8th, two days after the President had been shot, and at a time when it was believed he would recover, Senator Hanna had a remarkable dream, prophetic of the fatal end.
On Monday a newspaper correspondent asked him if he had any fears of a relapse, when he replied:
“That reminds me of a dream I had last night. You know dreams go by contraries. Well, sir, in this dream I was up at the Milburn house waiting to hear how the President was getting along, and everybody was feeling very good. We thought the danger was all past. I was sitting there talking with General Brooke and Mr. Cortelyou, and we were felicitating ourselves on how well the physicians had been carrying the case.
“Suddenly, in my dream, Dr. McBurney entered the room through the door leading to the sick room with a look of the utmost horror and distress on his face. I rushed up to him, and putting a hand on either shoulder, said: ‘What is it, Doctor? what is it? let us know the worst.’
“Dr. McBurney replied: ‘My dear Senator, it is absolutely the worst that could happen. The President has had a tremendous change for the worse; his temperature is now 440 degrees.’ I fell back in my chair in utter collapse, and then I awoke. But, do you know, I could not rest easy until I saw the early bulletins this morning?”
Everyone thought of Mrs. McKinley and the hearts of all went out to her in sympathy when it was known that the end was near. They had tried all day to keep the fatal news from her, but it is probable that when she saw the President she divined something of his serious condition. Mrs. McWilliams, Mrs. Barber, Miss Mary McKinley, and Mrs. Duncan were with her and gave her the most tender and loving ministration. The crowds eagerly scanning the bulletin boards feared for her. It was a matter of current belief that the wife never would survive the shock. There were plenty who said and believed that she would not live through the night; that the papers would tell the world that Emma Goldman’s disciple had murdered a woman and a frail invalid as well as the President of the United States.
It was recalled that the President had several times spoken of his assassin and that he had expressed satisfaction when he learned that the man had not been injured by the crowd. All this was gratifying, but it failed to alleviate the sorrow of that Friday night and the few hours of Saturday in which the President continued alive. All Buffalo, all the Nation, watched with deepest anxiety hoping against hope.
The devotion to duty of Private Secretary George B. Cortelyou during the long painful days that came between the shooting and the death of President McKinley offers one of the most striking features of the historic tragedy.
When the chief fell wounded Secretary Cortelyou was practically forced to fill a part of the vacant place and assume all of its responsibilities. He was at the side of the President when Leon Czolgosz fired the murderous shots, and upon him rested the immediate responsibility of issuing the order for the surgical operation that was performed at the emergency hospital.
When Mr. McKinley came from the operating table it fell to Mr. Cortelyou to make the arrangements for his shelter and care, and from that time to the end he was called upon to pass judgment upon every grave question that arose except the technical medical and surgical matters in connection with the care of the wounded chieftain.
He stood between the sick-room and the world as far as information on the progress of the case was concerned, and the place called for the most delicate judgment. In addition to his official connection with the dying President it was his duty to supervise all of the private personal affairs of his superior.
In addition to the work which he could do by verbal direction the executive correspondence by mail and wire trebled and quadrupled. It exceeded that of any other period in the public life of Mr. McKinley, including the days that succeeded both his first and second elections. It seemed that Mr. Cortelyou must fail in the mere physical task of handling it, but no physical exaction seemed too great for him.
His personal affection for his chief was complete, and the President’s death was a grievous shock to him. He has not faltered, however, and still stands in the place that he must occupy until the last offices have been performed at the grave of Mr. McKinley.
CHAPTER VIII.
DAYS OF ANXIETY AND SORROW.
The Nation was thrown into a state of grief and indignation never before approached at the terrible news from Buffalo Friday, September 6th. Methods for transmitting intelligence have been vastly improved since the assassination of Garfield, since which time no such national calamity has befallen the United States. Poignant regret, intense indignation, and a feeling of dismay mingled in the hearts of the eighty million Americans who stood appalled at the news which swept like wild fire and reached every part of the world in an incredibly short time.
It was an appalling thought that this great republic, with all its promises and all its deeds for oppressed humanity, exposed its chief magistrates to more deadly chances than does any empire or kingdom. But seven men regularly elected Presidents in the last thirty-six years, and three of them brought low with the assassin’s bullet!
The news of the attempt on the life of the President was received from one end of the country to the other first with horrified amazement and then with the deepest grief. In every city in the United States men and women gathered and waited for hours to get every scrap of information that came over the wires. In thousands of small towns the whole population stood about the local telegraph offices and watched tearfully and anxiously for bulletins.
Telegraph offices everywhere were swamped with business, messages of sympathy for the President and his wife from almost every man of prominence in the nation, and for hours after the shooting telephone trunk lines were so overburdened that only a small percentage of subscribers were able to secure service.
Dispatches from every State in the Union showed how widespread and intense was the feeling of dismay and the sense of personal affliction with which the news was received. Public men of all shades of political opinion and social status alike shared the anxiety and found themselves grasping hands with one another and praying that Mr. McKinley’s life might be spared. All the details of the tragedy were sought for with trembling eagerness, and in all the large centers of population every effort was made to supply this demand by the newspapers, which issued extras at intervals till far into the night.
Early Saturday morning began arrangements for public prayer in many of the churches on Sunday. Archbishop Ireland of the Catholic