Hanna and their grief at his death. The body was not, however, allowed to lie in state in Washington. On Wednesday, Feb. 17th, a memorial service was held in the Senate Chamber, which was attended by the President, the Cabinet, Congress and the whole official life of Washington, and which consisted chiefly of an eloquent and impressive address of the Chaplain, the Rev. Edward Everett Hale. At six o'clock on the same day the funeral party left for Cleveland. At noon on Thursday the body was carried into the auditorium of the Chamber of Commerce in that city by Governor Herrick, Samuel Mather, W. B. Sanders, J. B. Zerbe, Andrew Squire, C. A. Grasselli, A. B. Hough and W. J. McKinnie, and the same group of friends served as pall-bearers at the funeral on the following day. The body lay in state for twenty-four hours, during which more than 30,000 people visited the bier. Friday was a cold, bleak, windy and snowy day. The funeral services were held at one o'clock, at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, and were attended not merely by his close connections, but by an extraordinary number of distinguished men from all over the East and Middle West. Bishop Leonard delivered the eulogy. Mark Hanna's sepulchre is admirably situated on the brow of a high hill in Lakeview Cemetery in Cleveland, and consists of a severely simple Greek temple, designed by Mr. Henry Bacon, which makes an impression on its visitor both of beauty and solemnity.

There was nothing perfunctory in the grief inspired by Mark Hanna's death. Every one who knew him felt his loss as a deep personal sorrow. No man in the country had so many friends, whom he had attached to himself by services and kindnesses small and great; and even those who felt no grief themselves could not fail to be affected by the sincerity with which his associates mourned his death. "The most sorrowful scene, says Senator Spooner, "which I ever saw was in the Senate when we sat and waited for the news of Mr. Hanna's death. There was a feeling in every heart of personal bereavement, and this feeling was, if possible, more pronounced on the Democratic side than on the Republican. But it was personal everywhere and made the moments we waited for the sad news, which we knew would come, the most impressive

in my life." In his eulogy of Mr. Hanna, delivered in the Senate, Mr. Platt of Connecticut said: "When Marcus A. Hanna died all the people mourned him with a grief that was deep and unfeigned. Something in his life and character endeared him to all classes. To but few men in this world is it given to inspire such respect and affection as did our deceased comrade and brother. His death saddened all. The sun of life was clouded and the whole air chill and dreary. It seemed as if the tie which bound his heart to every heart had been rudely sundered. While all shared the common grief, nowhere outside the circle of his domestic life was the mourning so deep as among his Senatorial associates. We had learned to admire him for his ability, to respect him for his strength, to wonder at his great influence, but more than that, each had come to love him as a friend."

The foregoing tribute to Mr. Hanna was delivered by Mr. Platt in the Senate Chamber on April 7, 1904. Some sixteen Senators spoke on that occasion, including Foraker, Scott, Platt, Dolliver, Beveridge, Blackburn and Daniel. Several of the speakers, particularly the Democrats, frankly admitted that in their attitude towards Mr. Hanna they had passed through much the same different phases of opinion as had the general public. They had begun by suspecting him. Little by little respect took the place of suspicion. Confidence was added to respect, and affection to confidence. The very men who could watch his public behavior most closely were most completely convinced of his good faith and loyalty, and they were most completely captivated by his warmth of feeling and his essential humanity. Thus it came to pass that they watched his growing personal influence with wonder, but without envy and without protest. The Senate is notoriously jealous of its independence, but never was there a suggestion that his power was being dictatorially used or was anything but the natural and desirable fruit of his personal worth and actual services.

In spite of all that Mr. Hanna's friends could say in his praise on that day in April, it remained for a man who was no longer his friend to pronounce the most discriminating appreciation of his career and personality. Beginning in 1884,

the whole of Mr. Hanna's public life had been profoundly influenced, first by his intimacy with Senator Foraker and then by their mutual alienation. In every crisis of Mr. Hanna's career the threatening figure of Mr. Foraker can be distinguished in the foreground or the background, ready, wherever possible, to make trouble. On the other hand, if any single man, Mr. Foraker himself excepted, was responsible for the abortive ending of what promised in the middle eighties to be an exceptionally brilliant political career, that man was Mark Hanna. It is the more to Mr. Foraker's credit when, as senior Senator from Ohio, he was called upon to pronounce in the Senate the first of a series of tributes to Mr. Hanna's memory, that he could without any pretence of kindly feeling, sum up so honestly and fairly certain salient aspects of Mr. Hanna's achievements and disposition. The men who did injustice to Mr. Hanna after his death were not his personal opponents. They were, rather, certain political opponents whose formulas were so narrow and whose prejudices were so dense that their vision of the essential value of the man was obscured by their disapproval of certain aspects of his work and doctrine. His personality inspired sympathy and respect among all who became acquainted with him; and under favorable conditions the sympathy usually became affection and the respect admiration. His devotion to his friends aroused a corresponding warmth of feeling in them. In a very real sense he lived for and among other people.

He was not merely fond of companionship; he was quite dependent on it-particularly the companionship of men. Throughout his life he always liked to live, play and eat in the midst of company. Mrs. Hanna never knew how many guests he would bring home to dinner; but there would almost always be somebody even when he was an obscure Cleveland business man. After his public career began, this tireless sociability increased rather than diminished. Just as during his early life he did his best to bring to his house all the interesting visitors to Cleveland, particularly the actors, so after he went to Washington, he remained as curious about people as ever, and as much interested in them.

During most of his career as Senator he and Mrs. Hanna

lived at the Arlington Hotel; but he occupied a large suite and practically kept house. His cook, Maggie, was provided with a special kitchen, which had formerly been a bathroom, and in which she provided for almost all the meals of the family. He was constantly entertaining. His Sunday morning breakfast parties had a special reputation; but his dinners were scarcely less popular. Whenever prominent men, strangers or not, registered at the hotel, Mr. Hanna always managed to meet them; and they usually received an invitation to dinner. He was not only expansive but inquisitive. He learned, not from the printed, but from the spoken, word. He acquired what Mr. Foraker describes as his "almost unnatural knowledge of human nature" from the zest with which he seized on every opportunity of getting in touch with other men, and from the powerful and candid intelligence which he brought to the digestion of this social experience.

Of course, he did not seek companionship consciously for the purpose of looking into the minds of other men. He sought

it either to transact business, to exchange ideas or merely to have a good time. His insight into human nature was the unconscious by-product of his sociability. But in any event, he craved some external occupation which was shared with other people. If nothing better offered, he would play cards. During the evening, in the absence of male guests, his family would have to play with him, and wherever he lived he collected a group of friends, upon whom he could usually depend for a game of whist, and later of bridge. In Washington, Senators Aldrich, Spooner, Allison and others were frequently found at his card table. In Cleveland there were a coterie of old friends, including W. J. McKinnie, A. B. Hough, J. B. Zerbe, "Jack" Yates, E. P. Williams, Frederick E. Rittman and others with whom he habitually played. During the last years of his life, when'in Cleveland, he spent a great deal of his time in the Union Club at the card table. He would lunch there and play all the afternoon, and on Saturday the whole evening up to midnight. He never seemed to tire of any occupation which he thoroughly enjoyed. A small stake was always waged on these games.

Interested as he was in his game of whist, he never allowed

it to degenerate into an unsocial sport. He was not one of your silent players, who are intent only on winning. He talked constantly and his friends say that he talked more than was good for the quality of his game. A stupid play would be pounced upon immediately and made the subject of emphatic comment. And it was not merely the incidents of the card table which he insisted on discussing. Any matter of local or general interest might come up for comment, and he was continually on the lookout for a chance to joke about the peccadilloes of his friends. There were few of them who escaped some kind of rigging.

Like most gregarious men, he liked to be socially conspicuous. He liked, that is, the idea of being prominent and popular among his own people, and of seeing himself reflected large in the eye of the world. An old friend states that he enjoyed going to the Opera House, sitting in his box, and being pointed out as the owner of the theatre. But this trait, in so far as it existed, was an amiable weakness. He was entirely without mere conceit, and he consistently under- rather than over-valued his own abilities. Flattery had little or no effect upon him. He was as little pleased with complimentary but exaggerated public tributes as he was with his abundant portion of unjust abuse. But his expansive disposition craved approval, and it was partly this desire for approval which always kept him so. closely in touch with public opinion. He knew his own people so well that he divined instinctively what they would approve. Strong as was his individual will, it always sought an expression consistent with what he understood and felt to be the popular will.

Although he had hearty personal dislikes as well as likes, he was far from being vindictive. Just as his anger would quickly cool, so a personal repulsion might easily be worn down. His natural tendency was to like other men, and if hè continued to dislike them, it was usually because he found them by experience personally untrustworthy. He required his associates to be, as he was himself, fair, frank, and honest. He forgave anything in a man quicker than a lie. When he said, "That man is a liar," he was going as far as he could in condemnation. He never deceived anybody himself, and he