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men and union leaders or his personal skill as a negotiator, but to his enthusiastic interest in the question and his increasing mastery of it. When he said to his audience at Urbana: "Oh! my friends, you have got to be with these men, among them and a part of them to understand this labor question thoroughly," he was describing his own actual position. He had remained, if not a part of them, at least close to them. They mutually understood and trusted one another. His friends in the unions had that very confidence in his good faith, which in a generalized form he postulates as the essential condition of any permanent improvement in the relations between capital and labor. They recognized his genuine sympathy with the wageearner's ambition for a higher standard of living. He earnestly endeavored to instil the same feeling into his audiences and into his business friends; and whenever it is shared by a larger number of people of all classes, the labor question will lose much of its present critical character.

Many people who did not know him questioned the sincerity of his sympathy with organized labor and the validity of his ultimate purposes. He advocated labor unions, they said and still say, because he found it much more easy and convenient to get what he wanted out of a few labor leaders than out of a mob of unorganized workmen. Be it admitted that some such motive may have partly determined his preference for the unions. But the sincerity of his attitude was not thereby affected. Economic radicals, who believe in the inevitability and righteousness of class warfare, like to read into the mind of every representative of wealth a "class consciousness" similar to their own, and they insist upon interpreting every action of such a man as the result of a more or less conscious purpose of exploitation. But "class consciousness" of any kind was precisely the kind of consciousness which an American like Mark Hanna did not have. There welled up in him a spring of the old instinctive homogeneity of feeling characteristic of the pioneer American. His whole attitude towards labor and his program of conciliation are, indeed, the product of an innocent faith that his country was radically different economically and socially from Europe, and that no fundamental antagonism of economic interest existed among different classes of Americans. All they had to do was to deal fairly and feel kindly one towards another.

He was, of course, too shrewd a political leader not to understand the added strength which advocacy of the labor unions gave to his advocacy of big business. His labor policy was undoubtedly framed partly as a supplement to his corporation policy. "I believe," he said in his speech to the Ohio State Convention in May, 1903, "I believe in organized labor, and I believe in organized capital as an auxiliary." But here again the labor program did not engage his support merely because it might sweeten the corporation pill for the palate of the American people. He was one of the first of our public men to understand that the organization of capital necessarily implied some corresponding kind of labor organization. He saw clearly that the large corporations could not survive in case their behavior towards their employees was oppressive, and that they would in the end strengthen themselves by recognizing union labor. Derived as the two forms of organization were from analogous sources, the future of both depended partly upon their ability to find some basis of mutual accommodation and cooperation, not incompatible with the public interest. In grasping this connection, and in insisting upon it, Mr. Hanna travelled far ahead of prevailing business and political opinion. The large corporations have at best been paternal in their policy towards their employees; and whether paternal or not they have usually been inimical to the unions. If their directors had understood the political and business interests at stake as clearly as Mr. Hanna did and had conciliated union labor, their situation at the present time in the face of American public opinion would have been very much better.

At bottom, however, and most of all, Mr. Hanna's labor policy was the expression of personal kindliness and good-will. As an embodiment and advocate of pioneer economics, he had always been sincere in his belief that business expansion and prosperity would be of as much benefit to the wage-earners as to the capitalist. But he was obliged to recognize that the former were not satisfied with the share of the product which they received under competitive conditions; and he came to realize that they were right in not being satisfied. His evident sincerity in introducing this exception into his general system of a state-aided process of economic production, but a socially irresponsible distribution of its fruits, proves his sincerity in claiming, as he always had, that he wanted to represent not one class but the American people as a whole. By emphasizing this exception, by proclaiming that capitalists had systematically exploited their employees and that in their dealing with labor a humane motive should be substituted for the ordinary economic motive — in assuming such an attitude he was showing once again how clearly he could read and profit by the lessons of his experience. His whole plane of political and economic thought was raised to a higher level. He had liberated and made articulate the underlying humanity of his own personal feeling towards the mass of his fellow-countrymen.

But in this instance, as in the other more important developments of his public personality, the revelation had been in a way imposed upon him. He had simply responded to a stimulus. In 1900 he had not the slightest expectation of attempting to alleviate the conflict between capital and labor. If it had depended on his own conscious will, he might have remained inarticulate until his death, and his friends would have been deprived of the most lucid and unalloyed public expression of his honest interest in the welfare of the laboring class. But the Civic Federation happened to be organized. His practical interest in the labor problem had left a trail behind it. The officials of the Federation found him out and went to him for help, not he to them for an opportunity. He responded to the call, divined the opportunity, seized it, and in seizing it, not only made it bigger, but made himself big enough to put it to good use. For the first time in his public career he became a reformer, dedicated consciously to the task of converting other people to a better way of dealing with a fundamental problem; and the best of it was that his public appearance as a labor reformer was the natural, although fortuitous, expression of his lifelong personal feelings and behavior.



A Contemporary observer of Mr. Hanna's career might well have surmised in the fall of 1901 that the Senator had climbed as high in public estimation as was possible for a man of his economic opinions and political methods. He was the undisputed leader of his party, and he was much more popular throughout the country than ever before; but how could a man as definitely committed as Mr. Hanna was to special business interests and to "machine" politics broaden any farther the basis of his public prestige? We have seen how he succeeded in doing so. The increased scope of his legislative interests, his willingness to consider all legislative projects from a responsible national standpoint, his decisive participation in the action of the Senate respecting an interoceanic canal, and finally his work on behalf of a better understanding between capital and labor, — his actions in all these matters had enhanced his stature still further in the eyes of the American people. There was no anticlimax in Mark Hanna's career. His public personality continued until the day of his death to gather size and distinction.

What he had gained was an increasing amount of confidence in him on the part of the public. He had always possessed the trust of the men, no matter of what class, with whom he came into practical association. After he went upon the stump he won the support of the Republican voters of his own state. But from the beginning his close association with "machine" politics and with merely business interests had made a large element in public opinion question his influence on public affairs. Many men who liked what they knew of his personality did not trust his methods or share his ideas. The tour in the Northwest during the campaign of 1900 had done a good deal to diminish this distrust, yet it continued to prevail, not merely among radicals, but among men of reforming tendencies all over the country. Much of it was bound to remain in any event, because it was partly due to divergent views of public policy. But during 1902 he came to be regarded with increasing respect even by his irreconcilable opponents, while at the same time the number of these opponents was substantially diminished. Many more people than formerly tended to accept his political leadership. Confidence in his personal good faith unquestionably attached thousands of the smaller business men of the country to the support of the existing system — the very class which, during the year or two after his death, went over to the cause of reform. He was a great power not merely in public and party business, but in his influence on public opinion.

A fair indication of the nature and extent of Mr. Hanna's influence is afforded by the merely external aspects of his life in Washington. The employees of the Senate all agree that no other Senator, when he was at the Capitol, had as many callers as did Mark Hanna; and certainly the office of no other Senator was over-run with so many and such different people. In his anteroom would be found politicians of high degree from all over the Union, an equally large assortment of "big" and little business men, state governors, Congressmen, labor leaders, fellow-Senators and even Cabinet officers. Rarely did Mr. Hanna at this time call on either a colleague in the Senate or a member of the Cabinet. He would usually telephone to the latter's office, say that he wanted to see the secretary and inquire when it would be convenient for him to call. Nine times out of ten the secretary would make an appointment to go and see Mr. Hanna. Towards the end the unusual consideration with which he was treated was partly due to his known physical enfeeblement; but his peculiar prestige in the world of affairs and politics was no less responsible. The one man in Washington on whom he invariably called was, of course, the President.

Another superficial fact of some significance is that he never used his committee room as an office. His mail, which at one time amounted to about half as much as all the rest of the Senate, was sent to his private office. When he wanted to receive

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