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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc47f2a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51831 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51831) diff --git a/old/51831-0.txt b/old/51831-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 64f9444..0000000 --- a/old/51831-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12948 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, My Brother Theodore Roosevelt, by Corinne -Roosevelt Robinson - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: My Brother Theodore Roosevelt - - -Author: Corinne Roosevelt Robinson - - - -Release Date: April 22, 2016 [eBook #51831] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BROTHER THEODORE ROOSEVELT*** - - -E-text prepared by WebRover, Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 51831-h.htm or 51831-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51831/51831-h/51831-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51831/51831-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/mybrothertheodor1921robi - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). - - A detailed transcriber's note will be found at the end - of the text. - - - - - -MY BROTHER THEODORE ROOSEVELT - - -[Illustration: - -_From a photograph, copyright by C. Le Gendre._ - -Theodore Roosevelt with his little granddaughter, Edith Roosevelt -Derby, 1918.] - - -MY BROTHER THEODORE ROOSEVELT - -by - -CORINNE ROOSEVELT ROBINSON - -With Illustrations - - - - - - - -New York -Charles Scribner’s Sons -1921 - -Copyright, 1921, by -Charles Scribner’s Sons - -Published September, 1921 - -The Scribner Press - - - - - WITH TENDER AFFECTION I DEDICATE THIS BOOK - TO MY SISTER - - ANNA ROOSEVELT COWLES - - WHOSE UNSELFISH DEVOTION TO HER BROTHER - THEODORE ROOSEVELT - NEVER WAVERED THROUGH HIS WHOLE LIFE, AND FOR WHOM - HE HAD FROM CHILDHOOD - A DEEP AND UNSWERVING LOVE AND ADMIRATION - - - - -PREFACE - - -This Preface I write to my fellow countrymen as I give into their hands -these intimate reminiscences of my brother, Theodore Roosevelt. - -A year and a half ago I was invited by the City History Club of New -York to make an address about my brother on Washington’s Birthday. -Upon being asked what I would call my speech, I replied that as George -Washington was the “Father of his country,” as Abraham Lincoln was the -“Saviour of his country,” so Theodore Roosevelt was the “Brother of his -country,” and that, therefore, the subject of my speech would be “The -Brother of His Country.” - -In the same way, I feel that in giving to the public these almost -confidential personal recollections, I do so because of the attitude of -that very public toward Theodore Roosevelt. There is no sacrilege in -sharing such memories with the people who have loved him, and whom he -loved so well. - -This book is not a biography, it is not a political history of the -times, although I have been most careful in the effort to record -facts accurately, and carefully to search my memory before relating -conversations or experiences; it is, I hope, a clear picture, drawn -at close hand by one who, because of her relationship to him and her -intercourse with him, knew his loyalty and tenderness of heart in a -rare and satisfying way, and had unusual opportunity of comprehending -the point of view, and therefore perhaps of clarifying the point of -view, of one of the great Americans of the day. - -As I have reread his letters to me, as I have dwelt upon our long and -devoted friendship--for we were even more friends than brother and -sister--his character stands out to me more strongly than ever before -as that of “The Great Sharer.” He shared all that he had--his worldly -goods, his strong mentality, his wide sympathy, his joyous fun, and his -tender comprehension--with all those with whom he came in contact, and -especially with those closest and dearest to him--the members of his -own family and his sisters. - -In the spirit of confidence that my frankness will not be -misunderstood, I place a sister’s interpretation of a world-wide -personality in the hands of my fellow Americans. - - CORINNE ROOSEVELT ROBINSON. - - September, 1921. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - I. THE NURSERY AND ITS DEITIES 1 - - II. GREEN FIELDS AND FOREIGN FARING 34 - - III. THE DRESDEN LITERARY AMERICAN CLUB 69 - - IV. COLLEGE CHUMS AND NEW-FOUND LEADERSHIP 94 - - V. THE YOUNG REFORMER 116 - - VI. THE ELKHORN RANCH AND NEAR-ROUGHING IT IN YELLOWSTONE - PARK 135 - - VII. TWO RECREANT NEW YORK POLICEMEN 155 - - VIII. COWBOY AND CLUBMAN 164 - - IX. THE ROUGH RIDER STORMS THE CAPITOL AT ALBANY 181 - - X. HOW THE PATH LED TO THE WHITE HOUSE 194 - - XI. HOME LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE 206 - - XII. HOME LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE (_Continued_) 236 - - XIII. WALL STREET HOPES EVERY LION WILL DO ITS DUTY 254 - - XIV. THE GREAT DENIAL 264 - - XV. WHISPERINGS OF WAR 276 - - XVI. “DO IT NOW” 303 - - XVII. WAR 323 - - XVIII. “THE QUIET QUITTING” 359 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - Theodore Roosevelt with his little granddaughter, Edith - Roosevelt Derby, 1918 _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - - Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., aged thirty, 1862 8 - - Martha Bulloch Roosevelt, twenty-two years old, about 1856 8 - - Theodore Roosevelt, about eighteen months old, 1860 18 - - Theodore Roosevelt, about four years old, 1862 18 - - Elliott Roosevelt, aged five and a half years, about 1865 32 - - Corinne Roosevelt, about four years old, 1865 32 - - Theodore Roosevelt, aged seven, 1865 32 - - Corinne Roosevelt, 1869, at seven and a half years 46 - - Theodore Roosevelt at ten years of age 46 - - Anna Roosevelt at the age of fifteen when she spoke of herself - as one of the “three older ones” 46 - - The Dresden Literary American Club--Motto, “W. A. N. A.” - (“We Are No Asses”) 72 - - Theodore Roosevelt, Oyster Bay, September 21, 1875 92 - - Theodore Roosevelt, December, 1876, aged eighteen 92 - - Portrait taken in Chicago, July, 1880, on the way to the hunting - trip of that season 114 - - We had that lovely dinner on the portico at the back of the - White House looking toward the Washington Monument 230 - - A review of New York’s drafted men before going into training - in September, 1917 332 - - - - -MY BROTHER - -THEODORE ROOSEVELT - - - - -THE STAR - - -EPIPHANY, 1919 - - Great soul, to all brave souls akin, - High bearer of the torch of truth, - Have you not gone to marshal in - Those eager hosts of youth? - - Flung outward on the battle’s tide, - They met in regions dim and far; - And you, in whom youth never died, - Shall lead them, as a star. - - --MARION COUTHOUY SMITH. - - - - -MY BROTHER THEODORE ROOSEVELT - - - - -I - -THE NURSERY AND ITS DEITIES - - -The first recollections of a child are dim and hazy, and so the nursery -at 28 East 20th Street, in New York City, does not stand out as clearly -to me as I wish it did--but the personality of my brother overshadowed -the room, as his personality all through life dominated his environment. - -I suppose I must have been about four, and he about seven, when my -first memory takes definite form. My older sister, Anna, though only -four years older than my brother Theodore, was always mysteriously -classed with the “grown people,” and the “nursery” consisted of my -brother Theodore, my brother Elliott, a year and a half younger than -Theodore, and myself, still a year and a half younger than Elliott. - -In those days we were “Teedie,” “Ellie,” and “Conie,” and we had the -most lovely mother, the most manly, able, and delightful father, and -the most charming aunt, Anna Bulloch, the sister of my Southern mother, -with whom children were ever blessed. - -Theodore Roosevelt, whose name later became the synonym of virile -health and vigor, was a fragile, patient sufferer in those early days -of the nursery in 20th Street. I can see him now struggling with the -effort to breathe--for his enemy was that terrible trouble, asthma--but -always ready to give the turbulent “little ones” the drink of water, -book, or plaything which they vociferously demanded, or equally ready -to weave for us long stories of animal life--stories closely resembling -the jungle stories of Kipling--for Mowgli had his precursor in the -brain of the little boy of seven or eight, whose knowledge of natural -history even at that early age was strangely accurate, and whose -imagination gave to the creatures of forest and field impersonations as -vivid as those which Rudyard Kipling has made immortal for all time. - -We used to sit, Elliott and I, on two little chairs, near the higher -chair which was his, and drink in these tales of endless variety, and -which always were “to be continued in our next”--a serial story which -never flagged in interest for us, though sometimes it continued from -week to week, or even from month to month. - -It was in the nursery that he wrote, at the age of seven, the famous -essay on “The Foregoing Ant.” He had read in Wood’s “Natural History” -many descriptions of various species of ant, and in one instance on -turning the page the author continued: “The foregoing ant has such -and such characteristics.” The young naturalist, thinking that this -particular ant was unique, and being specially interested in its -forthgoing character, decided to write a thesis on “The Foregoing Ant,” -to the reading of which essay he called in conclave “the grown people.” -One can well imagine the tender amusement over the little author, an -amusement, however, which those wise “grown people” of 28 East 20th -Street never let degenerate into ridicule. - -No memories of my brother could be accurate without an analysis of the -personalities who formed so big a part of our environment in childhood, -and I feel that my father, the first Theodore Roosevelt, has never been -adequately described. - -He was the son of Cornelius Van Shaack and Margaret Barnhill Roosevelt, -whose old home on the corner of 14th Street and Broadway was long a -landmark in New York City. Cornelius Van Shaack Roosevelt was a typical -merchant of his day, fine and true and loyal, but ultraconservative -in many ways; and his lovely wife, to whom he addressed, later, such -exquisite poems that I have always felt that they should have been -given more than private circulation, was a Pennsylvanian of Quaker -blood. - -The first Theodore Roosevelt was the youngest of five sons, and I -remember my mother used to tell me how friends of her mother-in-law -once told her that Mrs. Cornelius Van Shaack Roosevelt was always -spoken of as “that lovely Mrs. Roosevelt” with those “_five horrid -boys_.” - -As far as I can see, the unpleasant adjective “horrid” was only -adaptable to the five little boys from the usual standpoint of boyish -mischief, untidiness, and general youthful irrepressibleness. - -The youngest, my father, Theodore Roosevelt, often told us himself -how he deplored the fate of being the “fifth wheel to the coach,” -and of how many a mortification he had to endure by wearing clothes -cut down from the different shapes of his older brothers, and much -depleted shoes about which, once, on overhearing his mother say, “These -were Robert’s, but will be a good change for Theodore,” he protested -vigorously, crying out that he was “tired of changes.” - -As the first Theodore grew older he developed into one of the most -enchanting characters with whom I, personally, have ever come in -contact; sunny, gay, dominant, unselfish, forceful, and versatile, -he yet had the extraordinary power of being a focussed individual, -although an “all-round” man. Nothing is as difficult as to achieve -results in this world if one is filled full of great tolerance and -the milk of human kindness. The person who achieves must generally be -a one-ideaed individual, concentrated entirely on that one idea, and -ruthless in his aspect toward other men and other ideas. - -My father, in his brief life of forty-six years, achieved almost -everything he undertook, and he undertook many things, but, although -able to give the concentration which is necessary to achievement, he -had the power of interesting himself in many things outside of his own -special interests, and by the most delicate and comprehending sympathy -made himself a factor in the lives of any number of other human beings. - -My brother’s great love for his humankind was a direct inheritance -from the man who was one of the founders in his city of nearly every -patriotic, humanitarian, and educational endeavor. I think, perhaps, -the combination of the stern old Dutch blood with the Irish blood, of -which my brother always boasted, made my father what he was--unswerving -in duty, impeccable in honesty and uprightness, and yet responsive to -the joy of life to such an extent that he would dance all night, and -drive his “four-in-hand” coach so fast that the old tradition was “that -his grooms frequently fell out at the corners”! - -I remember that he always gave up one day of every week (and he was a -very busy merchant and then banker) to the personal visiting of the -poor in their homes. He was not satisfied with doing active work on -many organizations, although he did the most extraordinary amount of -active organization work, being one of the founders of the Children’s -Aid Society, of the State Aid Society, of the Sanitary Commission -and Allotment Commission in the time of the Civil War, and of the -Orthopædic Hospital, not to mention the Museum of Natural History and -the Museum of Art--but he felt that even more than this organized -effort must be the effort to get close to the hearts and homes of those -who were less fortunately situated than he. - -My older sister suffered from spinal trouble, and my father was -determined to leave no stone unturned to make her body fit for life’s -joys and life’s labors, and it was because of his efforts to give his -little girl health--successful efforts--that in co-operation with his -friends Howard Potter and James M. Brown and several others he started -the great work of the New York Orthopædic Hospital, having become -imbued with belief in the methods of a young doctor, Charles Fayette -Taylor. Nobody at that time believed in treating such diseases in quite -the way in which modern orthopædy treats them now, but my father, like -his son, had the vision of things to be, and was a leader in his way, -as was my brother in his. - -He could not at first influence sufficient people to start the building -of a hospital, and he decided that if the New York public could only -_see_ what the new instruments would do for the stricken children, that -it could be aroused to assist the enterprise. - -And so, one beautiful spring afternoon, my mother gave what was -supposed to be a purely social reception at our second home, at 6 West -57th Street, and my father saw to it that the little sufferers in whom -he was interested were brought from their poverty-stricken homes to -ours and laid upon our dining-room table, with the steel appliances -which could help them back to normal limbs on their backs and legs, -thus ready to visualize to New York citizens how these stricken little -people might be cured. He placed me by the table where the children -lay, and explained to me how I could show the appliances, and what -they were supposed to achieve; and I can still hear the voice of the -first Mrs. John Jacob Astor, as she leaned over one fragile-looking -child and, turning to my father, said: “Theodore, you are right; these -children must be restored and made into active citizens again, and I -for one will help you in your work.” - -That very day enough money was donated to start the first Orthopædic -Hospital, in East 59th Street. Many business friends of my father used -to tell me that they feared his sudden visits when, with a certain -expression in his eyes, he would approach them, for then before he -could say anything at all they would feel obliged to take out their -pocketbooks and ask: “How much this time, Theodore?” - -One of his most devoted interests was the newsboys’ lodging-house in -West 18th Street, and later in 35th Street, under the auspices of the -Children’s Aid Society. Every Sunday evening of his life he went to -that lodging-house, after our early hospitable Sunday supper, to which -many a forlorn relation or stranded stranger in New York was always -invited, and there he would talk to the boys, giving them just such -ideas of patriotism, good citizenship, and manly morality as were the -themes of his son in later years. - -The foundational scheme of the Children’s Aid Society was, and is, to -place little city waifs in country homes, and thus give them the chance -of health and individual care, and a very dramatic incident occurred -many years after my father’s death, when my brother, as governor of -New York State and candidate for the vice-presidency in 1900, had gone -to the Far West to make the great campaign for the second election of -William McKinley. The governors of many Western States decided to meet -in the city of Portland, Ore., to give a dinner and do honor to the -governor of the Empire State, and as Governor Roosevelt entered the -room they each in turn presented themselves to him. The last one to -come forward was Governor Brady, of Alaska, and as he shook hands with -Governor Roosevelt he said: “Governor Roosevelt, the other governors -have greeted you with interest, simply as a fellow governor and a great -American, but I greet you with infinitely more interest, as the son of -your father, the first Theodore Roosevelt.” - -My brother smiled and shook him warmly by the hand, and asked in what -special way he had been interested in our father, and he replied: “Your -father picked me up from the streets in New York, a waif and an orphan, -and sent me to a Western family, paying for my transportation and early -care. Years passed and I was able to repay the money which had given -me my start in life, but I can never repay what he did for me, for it -was through that early care and by giving me such a foster mother and -father that I gradually rose in the world, until today I can greet his -son as a fellow governor of a part of our great country.” - -I was so thrilled when my brother told me this story on his return -from that campaign, that the very next Sunday evening I begged him to -go with me to the old 35th Street lodging-house to tell the newsboys -that were assembled there the story of another little newsboy, now the -governor of Alaska, to show that there is no bar in this great, free -country of ours to what personal effort may achieve. - -My father was the most intimate friend of each of his children, and in -some unique way seemed to have the power of responding to the need of -each, and we all craved him as our most desired companion. One of his -delightful rules was that on the birthday of each child he should give -himself in some special way to that child, and many were the perfect -excursions which he and I took together on my birthday. - -The day being toward the end of September was always spent in the -country, and lover as he was of fine horses, I was always given the -special treat of an all day’s adventure behind a pair of splendid -trotters. We would take the books of poetry which we both loved and we -would disappear for the whole day, driving many miles through leafy -lanes until we found the ideal spot, where we unharnessed the horses -and gave them their dinner, and having taken our own delicious picnic -lunch, would read aloud to each other by the hour, until the early -September twilight warned us that we must be on our way homeward. - -In those earlier days in New York the amusements were perhaps simpler, -but the hospitality was none the less generous, and our parents were -indeed “given to hospitality.” - -My lovely Southern mother, of whom I will speak more later, had -inherited from her forebears a gift for hospitality, and we young -children, according to Southern customs, were allowed to mingle more -with our elders than was the case with many New York children. I am a -great believer in such mingling, and some of the happiest friendships -of our later lives were formed with the chosen companions of our -parents, but many things were done for us individually as well. When -we were between thirteen and sixteen I remember the delightful little -Friday-evening dances which my mother and father organized for us in -57th Street, and in which they took actual part themselves. - -As I said before, my father could dance all night with the same -delightful vim that he could turn to his business or his philanthropy -in the daytime, and he enjoyed our pleasures as he did his own. It -always seems to me sad that the relationship between father and son, or -father and daughter, should not have the quality of charm, a quality -which it so often lacks, and which I believe is largely lacking because -of the failure of the older generation to enter into the attitude of -the younger generation. - -I was delicate at one period and could not dance as I had always done, -and I remember when I was going to a little entertainment, just as I -was leaving the house I received an exquisite bunch of violets with a -card from my father, asking me to wear the flowers, and think of his -wish that I should not overtire myself, but also of his sympathy that I -could not do quite what I had always done. - -Comparatively few little girls of fourteen have had so lover-like an -attention from a father, and just such thought and tender, loving -comprehension made our relationship to our father one of perfect -comradeship, and yet of respectful adoration. He taught us all, when -very young, to ride and to swim and to climb trees. I remember the -careful way in which he would show us dead limbs and warn us about -watching out for them, and then, having taught us and having warned us, -he gave us full liberty to try our wings and fall by the wayside should -they prove inadequate for our adventures. - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., aged thirty, 1862.] - -[Illustration: Martha Bulloch Roosevelt, twenty-two years old, about -1856.] - -After graduating from our first Shetland pony, he provided us each with -a riding-horse, and always rode with us himself, and a merry cavalcade -went forth from our country home, either early in the morning before -he started for the train or in the soft summer evenings on his return. -When at one time we were living on the Hudson River, we had hoped one -autumn afternoon that he would come home early from the city, and -great was our disappointment when a tremendous storm came up and we -realized that he would take a later train, and that our beloved ride -must be foregone. We were eagerly waiting in the hall for his return -and watching the rain falling in torrents and the wind blowing it in -gusts, when the depot wagon drove up to the door and my father leaped -out, followed by the slight figure of a somewhat younger man. As the -young man tried to put up his umbrella it blew inside out and, like a -dilapidated pinwheel loosened from his hand, ran round and round in a -circle. The unknown guest merrily chased the umbrella pinwheel, and my -mother, who had joined us children at the window, laughingly wondered -who my father’s new friend was. The front door opened and the two -dripping men came in, and we rushed to meet them. - -I can see the laughing face of the young man become suddenly shy and a -little self-conscious as my father said to my mother: “Mittie, I want -to present to you a young man who in the future, I believe, will make -his name well known in the United States. This is Mr. John Hay, and I -wish the children to shake hands with him.” - -Many and many a time, long, long years after, when John Hay was -secretary of state in the cabinet of the second Theodore Roosevelt, -he used to refer to that stormy autumn afternoon when a delicate boy -of eleven, at the instigation of his father, shook hands with him and -looked gravely up into his face, wondering perhaps how John Hay was -going to make his name known throughout the United States. How little -did Mr. Hay think then that one day he would be the secretary of state -when that same little delicate boy was President of the United States. - -My father’s intimacy with John Hay had come about through the fact of -contact in the Civil War, when they both worked so hard in Washington -together. - -My father stands out as the most dominant figure in our early -childhood. Not that my mother was not equally individual, but her -delicate health prevented her from entering into our sports and unruly -doings as our father did; but I have always thought that she, in an -almost equal degree with my father, influenced my brother’s nature, -both by her French Huguenot and Scotch blood and her Southern ancestry. - -The story of her meeting with my father has a romantic flavor to it. -My grandmother, Mrs. Stephens Bulloch, lived in an old plantation above -Atlanta, on the sand-hills of Georgia. There, in the old white-columned -house overlooking a beautiful valley, my grandmother led a patriarchal -life, the head of a large family, for she had been as a young girl the -second wife of Senator John Elliott, and she not only brought up the -children of that marriage but the children and stepchild of her second -marriage as well. My own mother was the second daughter of Mr. and Mrs. -Stephens Bulloch, but she never knew the difference between her Elliott -half brother and sisters, her Bulloch half-brother and her own brother -and sister. - -In the roomy old home with its simple white columns there was led -an ideal life, and the devotion of her children to my beautiful -grandmother, as the many letters in my possession prove, was one of -the inspiring factors in their lives, and became the same to our own -childhood, for many were the loving stories told us by my mother and -aunt of the wonderful character of their mother, who ran her Southern -plantation (Mr. Bulloch died comparatively young) with all the -practical ability and kindly supervision over her slaves characteristic -of the Southern men and women of her time. - -The aforesaid slaves were treated as friends of the family, and they -became to us, her little Northern grandchildren, figures of great -interest. We were never tired of hearing the stories of “Daddy Luke” -and “Mom Charlotte.” - -The first of these two, a magnificent Nubian, with thick black lips -and very curly hair, was the coachman and trusted comrade of my -grandmother’s children, while his wife, “Mom Charlotte,” was a very -fastidious mulatto, slender and handsome, who, for some illogical -reason, considered her mixed blood superior to his pure dark strain. -She loved him, but with a certain amount of disdain, and though on -week-days she treated him more or less as an equal, on Sundays, when -dressed in her very best bandanna and her most elegant prayer-book -in hand, she utterly refused to have him walk beside her on the path -to church, and obliged him ignominiously to bring up the rear with -shamefaced inferiority. Mom Charlotte on Sundays, when in her superior -mood, would look at her spouse with contempt, and say, “B’ Luke, he -nothin’ but a black nigger; he mout’ stan’ out to de spring,” referring -to Daddy Luke’s thick Nubian lips, and pointing at the well about one -hundred yards distant from the porch. - -There was also a certain “little black Sarah,” who was the -foster-sister of my uncle, Irvine Bulloch, my mother’s younger brother. -In the old Southern days on such plantations there was almost always -a colored “pickaninny” to match each white child, and they were -actually considered as foster brother or sister. Little Irvine was -afraid of the darkness _inside_ the house, and little Sarah was afraid -of the darkness _outside_ the house, and so the little white boy and -the little black girl were inseparable companions, each guarding -the other from the imaginary dangers of house or grounds, and each -sympathetically rounding out the care-free life of the other. - -My mother’s brilliant half-brother, Stewart Elliott, whose love of art -and literature and music took him far afield, spent much of his time -abroad, and when he came back to Roswell (the name of the plantation) -he was always much amused at the quaint slave customs. One perfect -moonlight night he took his guitar into the grove near the house to -sing to the group of girls on the porch, but shortly afterward returned -much disgusted and described the conversation which he had overheard -between little white Irvine and little black Sarah on the back porch. -It ran as follows, both children gazing up into the sky: _Sarah_: -“Sonny, do you see de Moon?” “Yes, S_a_rah, it do crawl like a worrum.” -The moon at the moment was performing the feat which Shelley poetically -described as gliding, “glimmering o’er its fleecelike floor.” The young -musician could not stand the proximity of such masters of simile as -were Irvine and Sarah, and demanded that they should be forbidden the -back porch on moonlight nights from that time forth! - -There was also another young slave who went by the name of “Black -Bess,” and was the devoted companion of her two young mistresses, -Martha, my mother, and her sister, Anna Bulloch. She slept on a mat at -the foot of their beds and rendered the devoted services that only the -slave of the old plantation days ever gave to his or her mistress. My -mother used to accompany her mother on her visits to all the outlying -little huts in which the various negroes lived, and she often told us -the story of a visit one day to “Mom Lucy’s” little home, where a baby -had just been born. - -Mom Lucy had had several children, none of whom had lived but a few -hours, and when my grandmother and her little daughter visited the -new baby, now about a week old, the mother, still lying on her couch, -looked up at my grandmother and said: “Ole Miss, I jus’ done name her.” -“And what have you named her, Lucy?” asked my grandmother; “she is a -fine baby and I am so glad you are going to have the comfort of her all -your life.” “Oh!” said the colored woman sadly, “I don’t ’spec’ her to -live, dey ain’t none of ’em done live, and so I jus’ call her Cumsy.” -“Cumsy?” said my grandmother, “and what may that mean, Lucy?” “Why, ole -Miss, don’t you understan’? Dey all done go to deir heavenly home, and -so I jus’ call dis one ‘Come-see-de-world-and-go,’ and my ole man and -me we is goin’ to call her ‘Cumsy’ for short.” - -My grandmother tried to argue Lucy out of this mortuary cognomen, but -with no effect, and years afterward when my mother revisited Roswell -as Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, one of the first negroes to greet her was -“Come-see-the-world-and-go!” - -All these stories of the old plantation were fascinating to the -children of the nursery in 20th Street, and we loved to hear how the -brothers and sisters in that old house played and worked, for they -all did their share in the work of the household. There the beautiful -half-sister of my mother, Susan Elliott, brought her Northern lover, -Hilborne West, of Philadelphia, whose sister, Mary West, had shortly -before married Weir Roosevelt, of New York, the older brother of my -father, Theodore Roosevelt. This same Hilborne West, a young physician -of brilliant promise, adored the informal, fascinating plantation life, -and loved the companionship of the two dainty, pretty girls of fourteen -and sixteen, Martha and Anna Bulloch, his fiancée’s young half-sisters. - -Many were the private theatricals and riding-parties, and during that -first gay visit Doctor West constantly spoke of his young connection by -marriage, Theodore Roosevelt, who he felt would love Roswell as he did. - -A year afterward, inspired by the stories of Doctor West, my father, -a young man of nineteen, asked if he might pay a visit at the old -plantation, and there began the love-affair with a black-haired girl -of fifteen which later was to develop into so deep a devotion that -when the young Roosevelt, two years later, returned from a trip abroad -and found this same young girl visiting her sister in Philadelphia, -he succumbed at once to the fascination from which he had never fully -recovered, and later travelled once more to the old pillared house -on the sand-hills of Georgia, to carry Martha Bulloch away from her -Southern home forever. - -I cannot help quoting from letters from Martha Bulloch written in July, -1853, shortly after her engagement, and again from Martha Roosevelt a -little more than a year later, when she revisits her old home. She had -been hard to win, but when her lover leaves Roswell at the end of his -first visit, immediately following their engagement, she yields herself -fully and writes: - - Roswell, July 26, 1853. - - THEE, DEAREST THEE: - - I promised to tell you if I cried when you left me. I had - determined not to do so if possible, but when the dreadful feeling - came over me that you were, indeed, gone, I could not help my tears - from springing and had to rush away and be alone with myself. - Everything now seems associated with you. Even when I run up the - stairs going to my own room, I feel as if you were near, and turn - involuntarily to kiss my hand to you. I feel, dear Thee,--as though - you were part of my existence, and that I only live in your being, - for now I am confident of my own deep love. When I went in to lunch - today I felt very sad, for there was no one now to whom to make the - request to move “just a quarter of an inch farther away”--but how - foolish I am,--you will be tired of this “rhapsody....” - - Tom King has just been here to persuade us to join the Brush - Mountain picnic tomorrow. We had refused but we are reconsidering. - - - July 27th, ---- - - We have just returned after having had a most delightful time. - It was almost impossible for our horses to keep a foothold, the - Mountain was so steep, but we were fully repaid by the beautiful - extended view from the top, and when we descended, at the bottom, - the gentlemen had had planks spread and carriage cushions arranged - for us to rest, and about four o’clock we had our dinner. Such - appetites! Sandwiches, chicken wings, bread and cheese disappeared - miraculously. - - Tom had a fire built and we had nice hot tea and about six o’clock - we commenced our return. I had promised to ride back with Henry - Stiles, so I did so, and you cannot imagine what a picturesque - effect our riding party had,--not having any Habit, I fixed a - bright red shawl as a skirt and a long red scarf on my head, turban - fashion with long ends streaming. Lizzie Smith and Anna dressed - in the same way, and we were all perfectly wild with spirits and - created quite an excitement in Roswell by our gay cavalcade--But - all the same I was joked all day by everybody, who said that they - could see that my eyes were swollen and that I had been crying. - -All this in a very delicate Italian hand, and leaving her lover, I -imagine, a little jealous of “Henry Stiles,” in spite of the “rhapsody” -at the beginning of the letter! - -My father’s answer to that very letter is so full of deep joy at the -“rhapsody,” in which his beautiful and occasionally capricious Southern -sweetheart indulged, that I do not think he even remembered “Henry -Stiles,” for he replies to her as follows: - - New York, August 3rd. - - How can I express to you the pleasure which I received in reading - your letter! I felt as you recalled so vividly to my mind the last - morning of our parting, the blood rush to my temples; and I had, as - I was in the office, to lay the letter down, for a few minutes to - regain command of myself. I had been hoping against hope to receive - a letter from you, but _such_ a letter! O, Mittie, how deeply, how - devotedly I love you! Do continue to return my love as ardently as - you do now, or if possible love me more. I know my love for you - merits such return, and do, dear little Mittie, continue to write, - (when you feel moved to!) just such “rhapsodies.” - -On December 3, 1853, very shortly before her wedding, Martha Bulloch -writes another letter, and in spite of her original “rhapsody,” and -her true devotion to her lover, one can see that she has many girlish -qualms, for she writes him: “I do dread the time before our wedding, -darling--and I wish that it was all up and that I had died game!” - -A year and a half later, May 2, 1855, Martha Roosevelt is again at the -home of her childhood, this time with her little baby, my older sister, -Anna, and her husband has to leave her, and she writes again: - -“I long to hear you say once again that you love me. I know you do but -still I would like to have a fresh avowal. You have proved that you -love me dear, in a thousand ways and still I long to hear it again and -again. It will be a joyful day when we meet again. I feel as though I -would never wish to leave your side again. You know how much I enjoy -being with mother and Anna, but all the same I am only waiting until -‘Thee’ comes, for you can hardly imagine what a _wanting_ feeling I -have when you are gone. - -“Mother is out in the entry talking to one of the ‘Crackers.’ While I -was dressing mother brought in a sweet rose and I have it in my breast -pin. I have picked one of the leaves off just this moment and send it -to you--for Thee--the roses are out in beautiful profusion and I wish -you could see them....” - -A year and a half in the cold North had not dimmed the ardor of -affection between the young couple. - -We children of the nursery in 28 East 20th Street loved nothing better -than to make my mother and aunt tell us the story of the gay wedding at -the old home near Atlanta. I remember still the thrill of excitement -with which I used to listen to the details of that wonderful week -before the wedding when all the bridesmaids and ushers gathered at the -homestead, and every imaginable festivity took place. - -One of my mother’s half-brothers had just returned from Europe, and -fell in love at first sight with one of her beautiful bridesmaids, -already, alas! engaged to another and much older man, not a member of -the wedding-party. My child’s heart suffered unwarranted pangs at the -story of the intense attraction of these two young people for each -other, and I always felt that I could see the lovely bridesmaid riding -back with the man to whom she had unwittingly given her heart, under -the Southern trees dripping with hanging moss. The romantic story -ended tragically in an unwilling marriage, a duel, and much that was -unfortunate. - -But my mother and my father had no such complications in their own -lives, and the Southern girl who went away with her Northern lover -never regretted that step, although much that was difficult and -troublous came into their early married life because of the years -of war from 1861 to 1865, when Martha Bulloch’s brothers fought for -the South and Theodore Roosevelt did splendid and unselfish work in -upholding the principles for which the North was giving its blood and -brawn. - -The fighting blood of James Dunwoody and Irvine Bulloch was the same -blood infused through their sister into the veins of their young -kinsman, the second Theodore Roosevelt, and showed in him the same -glowing attributes. The gallant attitude of their mother, Mrs. Stephens -Bulloch, also had its share in the making of her famous grandson. - -Her son Irvine was only a lad of sixteen, while her stepson, James, -was much older and was already a famous naval blockade-runner when she -parted from them. Turning to her daughter Anna she prayed that she -might never live to know if Irvine were killed or Richmond taken by the -Northern army. I cannot but rejoice that her life passed away before -such news could come to her. It must have been bitter, indeed, for her -under these circumstances to face the necessity of accepting the bread -of her Northern son-in-law, and it speaks volumes for the characters of -both that during the whole war there was never a moment of estrangement -between them or between my father and his lovely sister-in-law, Anna -Bulloch, who became, because of the fact that she lived with us during -those early years of our lives, one of the most potent influences of -our childhood. - -I, myself, remember nothing of the strain of those troubled days; but -my aunt has often told me of the bedtime hour in the nursery when a -certain fair-haired, delicate little boy, hardly four years old, would -kneel at her side to say his evening prayer, and feeling that she would -not dare interrupt his petition to the Almighty, would call down in -baby tones and with bent head the wrath of the Almighty upon the rebel -troops. She said that she could never forget the fury in the childish -voice when he would plead with Divine Providence to “grind the Southern -troops to powder.” - -This same lovely aunt taught us our letters at her knee, in that same -nursery, having begged, in return for my father’s hospitality, that -she should be accepted as our first instructress, and not only did she -teach us the three R’s, but many and many a delightful hour was passed -in listening to her wonderful renderings of the “Br’er Rabbit” stories. - -Both my aunt and my mother had but little opportunity for consecutive -education, but they were what it seems to me Southern women ever -are--natural women of the world, and yet they combined with a perfect -readiness to meet all situations an exquisite simplicity and sensitive -sympathy, rarely found in the women of the North. This sensitiveness -was not only evidenced in their human relationships but in all -pertaining to art and literature. I have often said that they were -natural connoisseurs. - -I remember that my father would never buy any wine until my mother had -tasted it, and experts of various kinds came to her in the same way for -expressions of her opinion. She was very beautiful, with black, fine -hair--not the dusky brunette’s coarse black hair, but fine of texture -and with a glow that sometimes seemed to have a slightly russet shade, -what her French hair-dresser called “noir doré,” and her skin was the -purest and most delicate white, more moonlight-white than cream-white, -and in the cheeks there was a coral, rather than a rose, tint. She was -considered to be one of the most beautiful women of the New York of -her day, a reputation only shared by Mrs. Gardiner Howland, and to us, -her children, and to her devoted husband she seemed like an exquisite -“objet d’art,” to be carefully and lovingly cherished. Her wit, as -well as that of my aunt, was known by all her friends and yet it was -never used unkindly, for she had the most loving heart imaginable, and -in spite of this rare beauty and her wit and charm, she never seemed -to know that she was unusual in any degree, and cared but little for -anything but her own home and her own children. Owing to delicate -health she was not able to enter into the active life of her husband -and children, and therefore our earliest memories, where our activities -were concerned, turn to my father and my aunt, but always my mother’s -gracious loveliness and deep devotion wrapped us round as with a -mantle. - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt, about eighteen months old, 1860.] - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt, about four years old, 1862.] - -And so these were the three Deities of the Nursery in which Theodore -Roosevelt spent his first years, and even at that early time they -realized that in that simple room in the house which the patriotic -women of America are about to restore as a mecca for the American -people there dwelt a unique little personality whose mentality grasped -things beyond the ken of other boys of his age, and whose gallant -spirit surmounted the physical difficulties engendered by his puny and -fragile body. - - * * * * * - -The nursery at 28 East 20th Street in the early years of the Civil War -missed its chief deity, my father. From the letters exchanged by my -mother and father, preserved by each of them, I have formed a clear -realization of what it meant to that nursery to lose for almost two -years the gay and vigorous personality who always dominated _his_ -environment as did later his son. - -Mr. William E. Dodge, in a very beautiful letter written for the -memorial meeting of the Union League Club in February, 1878, just -after my father’s death, gave the following interesting account of my -father’s special work in the Civil War. This letter was read after an -eloquent speech delivered by Mr. Joseph H. Choate. The part of the -letter to which I especially refer ran as follows: - -“When the shadows of the coming war began to grow into a reality he -(Theodore Roosevelt) threw himself with all his heart and soul into -work for the country. - -“From peculiar circumstances he was unable to volunteer for military -service, as was his wish, but he began at once to develop practical -plans of usefulness to help those who had gone to the front. - -“He became an active worker on the Advisory Board of the Woman’s -Central Association of Relief, that wonderful and far-reaching -organization of patriotic women out of which grew the Sanitary -Commission. - -“He worked with the ‘Loyal Publication Society,’ which, as many of our -members know, was a most active and useful educating power in the days -when there was great ignorance as to the large issues of the conflict. - -“He joined enthusiastically in the organization of the Union League -Club, was for years a most valued member of its executive committees -and aided in the raising and equipment of the first colored troops. - -“His great practical good sense led him to see needs which escaped most -other minds. He felt that the withdrawal from the homes of so many -enlisted men would leave great want in many sections of the country. -He saw the soldiers were more than amply clothed and fed, and their -large pay wasted mostly among the sutlers, and for purposes which -injured their health and efficiency. So with two others he drafted a -bill for the appointment of Allotment Commissioners, who without pay -should act for the War Department and arrange to send home to needy -families, without risk or cost, the money not needed in the camps. For -three months they worked in Washington to secure the passage of this -act--delayed by the utter inability of Congressmen to understand why -anyone should urge a bill from which no one could selfishly secure an -advantage. - -“When this was passed he was appointed by President Lincoln one of the -three Commissioners from this State. For long, weary months, in the -depth of a hard winter, he went from camp to camp, urging the men to -take advantage of this plan. - -“On the saddle often six to eight hours a day, standing in the cold and -mud as long, addressing the men and entering their names. - -“This resulted in sending many millions of dollars to homes where it -was greatly needed, kept the memory of wives and children fresh in the -minds of the soldiers, and greatly improved their morale. Other States -followed, and the economical results were very great. - -“Towards the close of the war, finding the crippled soldiers and the -families of those who had fallen were suffering for back pay due and -for pensions, and that a race of greedy and wicked men were taking -advantage of their needs to plunder them, he joined in organizing the -Protective War-Claim Association, which without charge collected these -dues. This saved to the soldiers’ families more than $1,000,000 of fees. - -“He also devised and worked heartily in the Soldiers’ Employment -Bureau, which found fitting work for the crippled men who by loss of -limb were unfitted for their previous occupations. This did wonders -toward absorbing into the population of the country those who otherwise -would have been dependent, and preserved the self-respect of the men. -I believe it did more and vastly better work than all the ‘Soldiers’ -homes’ combined. For the work in the Allotment Commission he received -the special and formal thanks of the State in a joint resolution of the -Legislature.” - -Nothing was more characteristic of my father’s attitude toward life -than his letters during this period to my mother. He realized fully -that in leaving his young family he was putting upon his youthful and -delicate wife--whose mental suffering during the war must have been -great, owing to the fact of her being a Southerner--her full share -of what was difficult in the situation. He writes with the utmost -frankness of his wish that she might look on the great question of -which the war was a symptom from the same standpoint as his, but the -beautiful love and trust which existed between them was such that in -all these letters which passed so constantly during my father’s labors -as Allotment Commissioner, there was never the slightest evidence of -hurt feelings or friction of any kind. - -In the early fall of 1861 he was struggling to have passed by Congress -the bill to appoint Allotment Commissioners, and spent weary days -in Washington to achieve that purpose. When the bill was passed and -he and Mr. William E. Dodge and Mr. Theodore Bronson were appointed -as the three commissioners, he threw himself with all the ardor and -unselfishness of his magnificent nature into the hard work of visiting -the camps in mid-winter, and persuading the reluctant soldiers to -believe that it was their duty to allot a certain portion of their pay -to their destitute families. - -He writes on January 1, 1862: - - I have stood on the damp ground talking to the troop and taking - their names for six hours at a time. One of the regiments that I - visited last, which is wretchedly officered and composed of the - scum of our city, seemed for the first time even to recall their - families. We had an order from the General of Division, and the - Colonel sent his adjutant to carry out our desires. He came, dirty - and so drunk that he could not speak straight, and of course got - the orders wrong. All the officers seem to be _in_ with the sutler - while the private said he was an unmitigated thief. The delays - were so great that I stood out with one of these companies after - seven o’clock at night, with one soldier holding a candle while - I took down the names of those who desired to send money home. - The men looked as hard as I have often seen such men look in our - Mission neighborhood, but after a little talking and explaining - my object and reminding them of those they had left behind them, - one after another put down his name, and from this company alone, - they allotted, while I was there, $600.00. This would be increased - afterwards by the officers, if they were decent ones, and other - men absent on guard and through other reasons. I could not help - thinking what a subject for a painting it would make as I stood out - there in the dark night, surrounded by the men with one candle just - showing glimpses of their faces,--tents all around us in the woods. - One man, after putting down five dollars a month, said suddenly: - “My old woman has always been good to me, and if you please, change - it to ten.” In a moment, half a dozen others followed his example - and doubled their allotments. - - I enclose a letter for Teedie [Theodore]. Do take care of yourself - and the dear little children while I am away, and remember to enjoy - yourself just as much as you can. [This sentence is so like my - father. Duty was always paramount, but joy walked hand in hand - with duty whenever it legitimately could.] - - I do not want you not to miss me, but remember that I would never - have felt satisfied with myself after this war is over if I had - done nothing, and that I do feel now that I am only doing my duty. - I know you will not regret having me do what is right, and I do not - believe you will love me any the less for it. - - Yours as ever, - THEODORE ROOSEVELT. - -This particular letter is very characteristic of the father of -President Roosevelt--a man of the qualities which his country has grown -to associate with its beloved “Colonel.” In my brother’s case they -were the direct inheritance from the man who stood out knee-deep in -mud using his wonderful personality to make those hard-faced drafted -men remember their own people at home, and at the same time writes to -the lovely mother of his children to try and enjoy herself as much as -possible in his absence. - -My mother’s answers to my father’s letters were very loving. Alone, -and delicate, she never dwells on loneliness or ill health, but tells -him the dear details of the home he loved so well. On January 8, 1862, -she writes: “Teedie came down stairs this morning looking rather sad, -and said ‘I feel badly--I have a tooth ache in my stomach.’--later he -asked if ‘Dod’ (God) was a fox?!--this after being shown a picture of -a very clever looking fox! He is the most affectionate and endearing -little creature in his ways.” One can well imagine how the lonely -father, doing his distant and gruelling duty, treasured the dainty -letters full of quaint stories of childish sayings. In another and -later missive there is a description of a birthday supper-party in -which “Teedie” is host to his cousins; it runs as follows: “Teedie, the -host, was too busy with his chicken and potatoes to converse much, but -as soon as he finished he made the sage remark that he ‘loved chicken, -roast beef and everything that was good better than salt water.’ This -speech occasioned a roar of laughter, and was evidently thought very -witty. Teedie, too, seemed to be under the false impression that it was -clever. He seemed to be inflated with vanity for some time afterwards!” -How gladly the tired man, after long days in the saddle, and evenings -of effort with sullen soldiers, must have turned to just such humorous -accounts of the small boy who always said or did something quaint, -which lost nothing in the picture drawn by the facile pen of his mother. - -Theodore Roosevelt writes his wife again in January, 1862, a letter -interesting because of his attitude toward the German regiments. He -says: - -“We are continually at work now, and to-day saw three regiments, but -even at this rate, it will be long before I see you again. They were -all Germans to-day--a motley crew, having few friends and frequently no -characters. We had been told that we ran the risk of our lives by going -to these regiments, and much more nonsense of the same kind, but the -only risk we ran has been from starvation. We were out talking to the -men until very late, and then found a German dinner which Dodge could -eat nothing of but the brown bread. He wanted to be polite, however, -and I was much amused with his statement that he would ride five miles -to get such bread, which was literally a fact, however, I have no -doubt, in his state of starvation. - -“The men, as Germans always do, took time to consider, and we left -them to describe the allotment idea to other persons. However, after -due consideration, a fair number sent money home. These Germans were -generally of the lowest characters, and with the exception of one -regiment disappointed me, although I have no doubt they will fight -well. There are some 12,000 of them. - -“This morning I saw that our efforts are noticed in _The World_ and -_The Tribune_. You have seen, I suppose, that we have been mentioned -several times in _The Times_. This is particularly satisfying as the -papers threatened once to be down on us, which would lose for us the -confidence of the soldiers.” - -The letters all give vivid accounts of his experiences, differing -in interest. He speaks of General Wadsworth, the grandfather of our -present United States senator, and says that the general “helped to -make my bed when I spent one night with his division.” - -In an interim of work, on February 7, he writes of his invitation to -Mrs. Lincoln’s ball, at which he says he had a delightful time. - -“Mrs. Lincoln in giving the Ball, stated that she gave it as a piece -of economy in war time, and included those diplomats, senators, -congressmen and others, that it had been previously the habit to invite -at a number of formal dinners. No one lower in the army than the -Division General,--not even a Brigadier, had an invitation to the Ball, -and of course there was much grumbling and a proportionate amount of -envy. Some complained of the supper, but I have rarely seen a better, -and often a worse one. Terrapin, birds, ducks, and everything else in -great profusion when I was in the dining room, although some complained -of the delay in getting into the room, as we went in parties. - -“I spent all of yesterday kicking my heels in the ante-room of the -Secretary of War, and in making out an order for him which he promised -to sign and afterwards refused. [How history repeats itself!] I was -with him about two hours, altogether, and received any number of the -highest kind of compliments, but I wanted a more important proof of -his good feeling which I did not get. I still hope that I may get it -through the President.” - -On February 12, 1862, comes this description of the delightful visit to -Newport News and he says: - -“All the officers received us in such a hospitable spirit and the -weather assisted in making our stay agreeable. I passed two of the -pleasantest days that I have enjoyed when away from home. General -Mansfield suggested some practice with the parrot gun, and one of those -sad accidents occurred, for a gun burst and two men were killed. - -“We have been treated like princes here. The steamboat was put at our -disposal and when, through a misunderstanding, it left before we were -on board, another one was immediately sent with us. I enclose several -things to keep for me.” - -Amongst the enclosures was a note which is sufficiently interesting to -give in facsimile. - - EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON - - MR. ROSEVALT. - - _Dear Sir_: - - I very much regretted that a severe headache confined me to my room - on yesterday, this morning I find we are expected to hold a noon - reception which will be over by three and a half o’clock at which - time I will be very happy to have you ride with us. - - Very truly yours - MRS. A. LINCOLN. - -This quaint missive reminds me of the fact of my father’s kindly -tolerance of “Mrs. A. Lincoln’s” little peculiarities. I remember how -he used to tell us, when occasionally he was invited, as this letter -says, to “ride” with her, that he would also be invited to stop at the -shop where she bought her bonnets, and give his advice on which bonnet -was especially becoming! - -In an earlier letter, after referring to an interview with Secretary -Stanton, he speaks of his apparent decision of character. But he was -disappointed when he could not, in the beginning, make the secretary -take his point of view about the Allotment Commission. Later, however, -he received the full support of Secretary Stanton. - -[Illustration: AN INVITATION FROM THE WIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN TO -THEODORE ROOSEVELT, SR.] - -In a letter dated February 5 he speaks of “justified pleasure” as -follows: - -“I find that only about six men under fifty [he himself was only -twenty-nine] are invited to the President’s to-night, and I have -determined to go for a short time, at least. There will be the largest -collection of notables there ever gathered in this country, and it -would probably be a sight worth remembering.” - -Under date of Washington, February 14, he writes again: - -“I have so many acquaintances here now that I could easily find a -temporary companion. Hay [John Hay] is going with me to Seward’s -to-night, and I am hoping to procure the pass for your mother. [My -grandmother was most anxious to get back to her own people in the -South]. In Baltimore I saw, or fancied I saw, on the faces of our -class of the inhabitants, their feelings in consequence of the news -just received of the taking of Roanoke Island. They looked very blue. -The sutlers here are serious obstacles in getting allotments. As -soon as _we_ see a Regiment and persuade the men to make allotments, -_they_ send around an agent to dissuade them from signing their names, -convincing them that it is a swindle because _they_ want the money to -be spent in Camp and go into their pockets instead of being sent home -to the poor families of the men, who are in such want. - -“I enclose you a flower from the bouquet on the table of the Executive -Mansion. Also a piece of silk from an old-fashioned piano cover in -Arlington House.” - -As I opened the letter, the flower fell to dust in my hands, but -the little piece of green silk, faded and worn, had evidently been -treasured by my mother as being a relic of Arlington House. - -On February 27, 1862, his stay in Washington was drawing to a close, -and my father regretted, as so many have done, that he had not kept a -diary of his interesting experiences. He writes on September 27: - -“All those whom I have seen here in Washington in social intercourse -day by day will be characters in history, and it would be pleasant to -look over a diary hereafter of my own impressions of them, and recall -their utterly different views upon the policy which should be pursued -by the Government. I have rarely been able to leave my room in the -evening, for it has been so filled with visitors, but I have not felt -the loss of liberty from the fact that those who were my guests I would -have taken a great deal of trouble to see, and never could have seen so -informally and pleasantly anywhere except in my own room. - -“It has, of course, been more my duty to entertain those whose -hospitality I was daily receiving, in the camps, by invitations to drop -in during the evening; all of these are striving to make their marks as -statesmen, and some, I am sure, we will hear from hereafter.” - -On March 1, 1862, he says: - - We have all been in a state of excitement for some days past, - caused by movements in the Army foreshadowing a general battle. - The snow which is now falling fast, has cast a damper over all our - spirits.... Several of the Generals have stated to me their belief - that the war, as far as there was any necessity for so large an - army, would be closed by some time in May,--probably the first of - May. If so, my work will be all over when I return to New York, and - I can once more feel that I have a wife and children, and enjoy - them. - - It is Sunday afternoon, and I have a peculiar longing to see you - all again, the quiet snow falling outside, my own feelings being - very sad and that of those around being in the same condition makes - me turn to my own quiet fireside for comfort. I wish we sympathized - together on this question of so vital moment to our country, but - I know you cannot understand my feelings, and of course I do not - expect it. - - YOUR LOVING HUSBAND WHO WANTS - VERY MUCH TO SEE YOU. - -One can well imagine the note of sadness in the strong young man who -had relinquished his urgent desire to bear arms because of the peculiar -situation in which he found himself, but who gave all his time and -thought and physical endurance to the work vitally needed, and which -he felt he could have handled better with the sympathy of his young -wife, whose anxiety about her mother and brothers was so poignant and -distressing. Never, however, in the many letters exchanged between the -parents of my brother, Theodore Roosevelt, was there one word which was -calculated to make less possible the close family love and the great -respect for each other’s feelings. - -In the last letter quoted above, one feels again that history does -indeed repeat itself, when one thinks that it was written in March, -1862, and that those “generals” of whom my father speaks were expecting -that no large army would be needed after May 1 of that year, when in -reality the long agony of civil war was to rack our beloved country for -nearly three years more. This was proven shortly after to my father, -and in the following October he is writing again from Baltimore, and -this time in a less wistful mood: - - Since I last wrote you I have enjoyed my pleasantest experiences - as Allotment Commissioner. The weather was lovely our horses good - and Major Dix accompanied us from the Fortress to Yorktown. It was - about twenty-five miles of historic ground passing over the same - country that General McClellan had taken his army along last spring. - - First comes the ruins of the little town of Hampton, then through - Big Bethel where Schanck was whipped, to the approaches to - Yorktown. There ravines have been cut through miles of roads made, - and immense breastworks thrown up by our army. - - Suydam was away but the rest of General Keyes’ staff received us - most hospitably, and after dinner furnished us with fresh horses to - visit the regiments, one of their number accompanying us. - - I had practise for both my French and German in the Enfans Perdus, - Colonel Comfort’s regiment and it was quite late before our - return. As I had broken my eyeglasses I had to trust entirely - to my horse who jumped over the ditches in a most independent - manner. We all sat up together until about twelve except Bronson - who had seemed used up all day, and had not accompanied me to the - regiments. He seemed to feel the shock of the fall when the car ran - off the track, and not to recover from it so easily as myself. - - Next morning we rode another twenty-five miles to Newport News to - see the Irish Brigade. General Corcoran was there, and accompanied - us to the regiments first suggesting Irish whiskey to strengthen - us. At dinner ale was the beverage and after dinner each Colonel - seemed to have his own particular tope. On our return they made - an Irish drink called “scal thun” and about one o’clock gave us - “devilled bones.” The servant was invited in to sing for us and - furnished with drinks at odd times by the General, who never - indulged, however, himself to excess. We then went the grand rounds - with the General at two in the morning, arrested two officers for - not being at their posts and returned at half past three, well - prepared to rest quietly after a very fatiguing day, and one of the - most thoroughly Irish nights that I ever passed. - - Next morning (yesterday) we had a delightful ride over to Fortress - Monroe, and had lunch at General Dix’s before leaving in the boat. - - A dozen of the officers were down at the boat, and we felt as we - bid goodbye to some of them, like leaving old friends.... - - Dearest: a few words more and I must close. Bronson has a very bad - cold and decides that he will leave me to-morrow. If well enough - he will undoubtedly call on you. Of course this makes me doubly - homesick but I must see it through. - - Goodbye. Yours as ever, - THEODORE ROOSEVELT. - -Again on October 18, having apparently been able to return for a brief -visit to his family, he writes from Niagara: - -“I was able to get a top berth and retired for the 31st time in two -months to spend the night on the railroad. My three nights at home have -made it hard, rather than easier, to continue my journeys. - -“All our party started from Albany to Fonda, and I had a hard day’s -work for the men had been deceived by the bounty and were suspicious -about everything regarding the Allotment Commission. The officers’ -dinner was a good deal like pigs eating at a trough. When at night -three companies had not yet been visited, I determined to do it -wholesale. I had two tents pitched and occupied one already prepared, -placing a table, candles and allotment roll in each. I then had the -three companies formed into three sides of a square and used all my -eloquence. When I had finished they cheered me vociferously. I told -them I would be better able to judge who meant the cheers by seeing -which company made most allotments. [This sentence of my father’s makes -me think so much of my brother’s familiar “shoot; don’t shout!” when he -would receive vociferous cheers for any advice given.] I thus raised -the spirit of competition and those really were the best that I had -taken during the day. By eight o’clock we found our work done, dark as -pitch, and rain descending in torrents, but still the work was done.” - -These letters give, I think, a vivid picture of my father’s persistence -and determined character, and the quality of “getting there,” which was -so manifestly the quality of his son as well, and at the same time the -power of enjoyment, the natural affiliation with his humankind, and -always the thoughtfulness and consideration for his young wife left -with her little charges at home. - -[Illustration: Elliott Roosevelt, aged five and a half years, about -1865.] - -[Illustration: Corinne Roosevelt, about four years old, 1865.] - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt, aged seven, 1865.] - -In that same home the spirit of the war permeated through the barriers -of love raised around the little children of the nursery, and my aunt -writes of the attitude of the small, yellow-haired boy into whose -childish years came also the distant din of battle, arousing in him the -military spirit which even at four years of age had to take some -expression. She says: “Yesterday Teedie was really excited when I said -to him that I must fit his zouave suit. His little face flushed up and -he said, ‘Are me a soldier laddie too?’ and when I took his suggestion -and said, ‘Yes and I am the Captain,’ he was willing to stand for a -moment or two to be fitted.” Even then Theodore Roosevelt responded -to his country’s call, and equally to the discipline of the superior -officer! - - - - -II - -GREEN FIELDS AND FOREIGN FARING - - -From the nursery in 20th Street my early memories turn with even -greater happiness to the country place which my parents rented at -Madison, N. J., called Loantaka, where we spent several summers. There -the joy of a sorrel Shetland pony became ours--(Pony Grant was his -name)--a patriotic effort to commemorate the name of the great general, -still on the lips of every one, whose indomitable will and military -acumen had at that very moment been the chief factor in bringing the -Civil War to a close. I, however, labored under the delusion that he, -the general, was named after the pony, which seemed to me at the time -much the more important of the two personalities. The four-legged Grant -was quite as determined and aggressive as his two-legged namesake, and -he never allowed any of us to be his master. When my father first had -him brought to the front door of the country home at Madison, I shall -never forget the thrill of excitement in the breasts of the three -little children of the nursery. “Who will jump on his back?” called out -my father gaily. - -It has always been the pride of my life that, although I was only about -four years old, I begged for the privilege before the “boys” were quite -ready to decide whether to dare the ferocious glance in his dark eyes. -Owing to my temerity he was presented to me, and from that time on was -only a loan to my brothers. Each in turn, however, we would climb on -his back, and each in turn would be repeatedly thrown over his head, -but having shown his ability to eject, he would then, satisfied by -thus proving his superiority, become gentle as a really gentle lamb. -I qualify my reference to lambs, remembering well the singularly -_ungentle_ lamb which later became a pet also in the family. - -In those country days before the advent of the motor, the woods and -lanes of New Jersey were safe haunts for happy childhood, and we were -given much liberty, and, accompanied by our two little cousins from -Savannah, John and Maud Elliott, who spent those two summers with us, -having suffered greatly from the devastating war, we roamed at will, -leading or riding our pony, playing endless games, or making believe -we were Indians--always responsive to some story of Theodore’s which -seemed to cast a glamour around our environment. - -I can still feel the somewhat uncanny thrill with which I received -the suggestion that a large reddish stain on a rock in the woods near -by was the blood of a white girl, lately killed by the chief of the -Indian tribe, to which through many mysterious rites we were supposed -to belong. I remember enticing there in the twilight our very Hibernian -kitchen-maid, and taking delight in her shrieks of terror at the sight -of the so-called blood. - -My brother always felt in later years, and carried the feeling into -practice with his own children, that liberty in the summer-time, for -a certain period at least, stimulated greatly the imagination of a -child. To rove unhampered, to people the surroundings with one’s own -creations, to watch the habits of the feathered or furry creatures, -and insensibly to react to the beauty of wood and wind and water--all -this leaves an indelible impression on the malleable nature of a young -child, and we five happy cousins, in spite of Theodore’s constant -delicacy, were allowed this wonderful freedom to assimilate what nature -had to give. - -I never once remember that we came to the “grown people” with that -often-heard question “What shall we do next?” The days never seemed -long enough, the hours flew on golden wings. Often there would be -days of suffering for my brother, even in the soft summer weather, -but not as acute as in the winter-time, and though my father or my -aunt frequently had to take Theodore for change of air to one place or -another, and rarely, even at his best, could he sleep without being -propped up in bed or in a big chair, still his spirit was so strong -and so recuperative that when I think of my earliest country memories, -he seems always there, leading, suggesting, explaining, as all through -my life when the nursery was a thing of the past and the New Jersey -woodlands a faint though fair green memory, he was always beside me, -leading, suggesting, explaining still. - -It was in those very woodlands that his more accurate interest -in natural history began. We others--normal and not particularly -intelligent little children--joyed in the delights of the country, -in our games and our liberty, but he was not only a leader for us in -everything, but he also led a life apart from us, seriously studying -the birds, their habits and their notes, so that years afterward the -result of those long hours of childish concentration took form in his -expert knowledge of bird life and lore--so expert a knowledge that even -Mr. John Burroughs, the great nature specialist, conceded him equality -of information with himself along those lines. - -It was at Lowantaka, at the breakfast-table one day, after my father -had taken the train to New York--this was the second year of our -domicile there, and the sad war was over--that my mother received a -peculiar-looking letter. I remember her face of puzzled interest as she -opened it and the flush that came to her cheek as she turned to my aunt -and said: “Oh, Anna, this must be from Irvine!” and read aloud what -would now seem like a “personal” on a page of the New York _Herald_. It -was as follows: - -“If Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt and Miss Anna Bulloch will walk in Central -Park up the Mall, at 3 o’clock on Thursday afternoon of this week [it -was then Tuesday] and notice a young man standing under the third tree -on the left with a red handkerchief tied around his throat, it will be -of interest to them.” - -As my mother finished reading the letter she burst into tears, for it -was long since the younger brother had been heard from, as the amnesty -granted to all those taking part in the Rebellion had not been extended -to those who had gone to England, as had my two uncles, to assist in -the building and the sailing of the _Alabama_, and letters from them -were considered too dangerous to be received. - -This “Irvine” had been saved when the _Alabama_ sank, after her brief -career, and the two brothers had settled in Liverpool, and my mother -knowing the great sorrow that his mother’s death had meant to this -younger brother, had always longed during the intervening months to see -him and tell him of that mother’s undying devotion, though she herself -had passed away the year before. - -It seemed now to the active imaginations of the Southern sisters that -somehow or other Irvine had braved the authorities, and would be able -to see them and hear from their lips the story of the past five years. - -One can well imagine the excitement of the children around the -breakfast-table at the romantic meeting suggested by the anonymous -letter. And so, on the following Thursday, the two sisters went -in to New York and walked up the Mall in Central Park, and there, -standing under the third tree to the left, was the young man--a thin, -haggard-looking young man compared to the round-faced boy with whom -they had parted so long ago, but eagerly waiting to get from them the -last news of the mother who had hoped she would die before any harm -could befall him. He had worked his way over in the steerage of a -sailing-vessel under an assumed name, for he was afraid of bringing -some trouble on my father, and had taken the method of the anonymous -letter to bring to him the sisters he had loved and missed so sorely. - -What a meeting it must have been under that “third tree to the left” -of the old Mall of Central Park, and what reminiscences of happier -childhood days those three must have indulged in in the brief hour -which the brother could give his sisters before sailing back across -the broad ocean, for he did not dare meet them again for fear of some -unpleasant results for the Northern brother-in-law, for whom he had -great admiration. - -Later, of course, my uncles were given the right to return to their -own country, but although they often visited us, they never settled in -America again, having rooted their business interests on English soil, -though their hearts always turned loyally to the country of their birth. - -In taking into consideration the immediate forebears of my brother, -Theodore Roosevelt, I would once more repeat that to arrive at a -true comprehension of his many-sided character one must realize the -combination of personalities and the different strains of blood in -those personalities from whom he was descended in summing up the man he -was. - -The stability and wisdom of the old Dutch blood, the gaiety and abandon -of the Irish strain that came through the female side of his father’s -people, and on his mother’s side the great loyalty of the Scotch and -the fiery self-devotion of the French Huguenot martyrs, mixed as it -was with the light touch which shows in French blood of whatever -strain--all this combined to make of the boy born of so varied an -ancestry one who was akin to all human nature. - -In April, 1868, the little boy of nine and a half shows himself, -indeed, as father to the man in several characteristic letters which I -insert here. They were written to his mother and father and the little -sister Conie when the above members of the family were paying a visit -to Savannah, and are as follows: - - New York April 28th, 1868. - - MY DEAR MAMMA - - I have just received your letter! What an excitement! How nice to - read it. What long letters you do write. I don’t see how you can - write them. My mouth opened wide with astonishment when I heard how - many flowers were sent in to you. I could revel in the buggie ones. - I jumped with delight when I found you had heard a mocking-bird. - Get some of its feathers if you can. Thank Johnny for the feathers - of the soldier’s cap, give him my love also. We cried when you - wrote about Grand-Mamma. Give My love to the good natured (to use - your own expresion) handsome lion, Conie, Johnny, Maud, and Aunt - Lucy. I am sorry the trees have been cut down. Aunt Annie, Edith - and Ellie send their love to you and all, I send mine to. I send - this picture to Conie. In the letters you write to me tell me how - many curiosities and living things you have got for me. I miss - Conie very much. I wish I were with you and Johnny for I could hunt - for myself. There is Conie’s letter. - - - MY DEAR CONIE: - - As I wrote so much in Mamma’s letter I cannot write so much in - yours. I have got four mice, two white skined, red eyed velvety - creatures, very tame for I let them run all over me, they trie - to get down the back of my neck and under my vest, and two brown - skined, black eyed, soft as the others but wilder. Lordy and Rosa - are the names of the white mice, which are male and female. I keep - them in different cages - - White mouse cage. brown mouse cage. - -[Illustration] - - MY DEAR PAPA - - You can all read each other’s letters. I hear you were very seasick - on your voyage and that Dora and Conie were seasick before you - passed Sandy-hook. Give my greatest love to Johnny. You must write - too. Wont you drive Mamma to some battle field for she is going to - get me some trophies? I would like to have them so very much. I - will have to stop now because Aunty wants me to learn my lessons. - - The chaffinch is for you. The wren for Mamma. The cat for Conie. - - Yours lovingly, - THEODORE ROOSEVELT. - - P. S. I liked your peas so much that I ate half of them. - - - New York, April 30th, 1868. - - MY DEAR FATHER - - I received your letter yesterday. Your letter was more exciting - than Mother’s. I have a request to ask of you, will you do it? I - hope you will, if you will it will figure greatly in my museum. You - know what supple jacks are, do you not? Please get one for Ellie - and two for me. Ask your friend to let you cut off the tiger-cat’s - tail, and get some long moos and have it mated together. One of the - supple jacks (I am talking of mine now) must be about as thick as - your thumb and finger. The other must be as thick as your thumb. - The one which is as thick as your finger and thumb must be four - feet long and the other must be three feet long. One of my mice - got crushed. It was the mouse I liked best though it was a common - mouse. Its name was Brownie. Nothing particular has happened since - you went away for I cannot go out in the country like you can. The - trees and the vine on our piazza are buding and the grass is green - as can be, and no one would dream that it was winter so short a - time ago. All send love to all of you. - - Yours lovingly, - THEODORE ROOSEVELT. - -The “excitement” referred to in the first letter was the wonderful -reception accorded to my mother on her return to the city of her -girlhood days. Her rooms in the hotel in Savannah were filled by her -friends with flowers--and how she loved flowers--but not the “buggie -ones” in which her young naturalist son says he would “revel!” - -One can see the ardent little bird-lover as he wrote “I jumped with -delight when I found you had heard a mocking-bird,” and again when he -says “Tell me how many curiosities and living things you have got for -me.” Insatiable lover of knowledge as he was, it was difficult indeed -for his parents to keep pace with his thirst for “outward and visible -signs of the things that be.” - -More than fifty years have passed since the painstaking penning of -the childish letters, but the heart of his sister in reading them -thrills hotly at the thought that the little “Conie” of those days was -“very much” missed by her idolized brother, and how she treasured the -letter written all for her, with the pictures of the cages in which he -kept his beloved mice! It was sad that the pictures of the chaffinch, -wren, and cat, evidently enclosed for each of the travellers, should -have been lost. In the two letters to his father he enlists that -comrade-father’s services for his adored “museum” by the plea for -“trophies from some battle field,” and the urgent request for the -“supple jack,” the nature of which exciting article I confess I do not -understand. I do understand, however, his characteristic distress that -“one of my mice got crushed. It was the mouse I liked best though it -was a common mouse.” That last sentence brought the tears to my eyes. -How true to type it was! the “common mouse” was the one he liked best -of all--never the rare, exotic thing, but the every-day, the plain, -the simple, and he probably liked it so much just because that little -“common mouse” had shown courage and vitality and affection! All -through Theodore Roosevelt’s life it was to the plain simple things and -to the plain simple people that he gave his most loyal devotion. - -In May, 1869, because of a great desire on the part of my mother to -visit her brothers in England, as well as to see the Old World of which -she had read and studied so much, she persuaded my father to take the -whole family abroad. - -After those early summers at Madison, which still stand out so clearly -in my memory, there comes a less vivid recollection of months passed -at the beautiful old place at Barrytown, on the Hudson River, which my -parents rented from Mr. John Aspinwall, and where a wonderful rushing -brook played a big part in the joys of our holiday months. - -We “younger ones” longed for another summer at this charming spot and -regretted, with a certain amount of suspicion, the decision of the -“Olympians” to drag us from our leafy haunts to improve our rebellious -young minds, but my parents were firm in their decision, and we started -on the old paddle-wheel steamship _Scotia_, as I have said, in May, -1869. - -In a letter from my mother to my aunt, who had married Mr. James King -Gracie, and was therefore regretfully left behind, she described with -an easy pen some incidents of the voyage across the ocean, as follows: - -“Elliott is the leader of children’s sports and plays with the little -Winthrop children all day. A short while ago Thee made up his mind -suddenly that Teedie must play too, so hunted up the little fellow who -was deeply enjoying a conversation with the only acquaintance he has -made, a little man, whom we call the ‘one too many man,’ for he seems -to go about with no acquaintances. His name is Mr. St. John and he -is a quaint little well of knowledge,--very fond of natural history -and fills Teedie’s heart with delight. Teedie brought him up and -introduced him to me, his eyes dancing with delight and he constantly -asks me, ‘Mamma, have you really conversed with Mr. St. John?’ I feel -so tenderly to Teedie, that I actually stopped reading the ‘Heir of -Redcliffe,’ and talked to the poor little man who has heart complaint -so badly that his voice is even affected by it. - -“The two little boys were pretty seasick on Sunday and I do not know -what I should have done without Robert, the bedroom steward, and an -amiable deck steward, who waits on those who remain on deck at meals. -He seems a wonderfully constructed creature, having amiable knobs all -over his body, upon which he supports more bowls of soup and plates of -eatables than you can imagine, all of which he serves out, panting over -you while you take your plate, with such wide extended nostrils that -they take in the Irish coast, and the draught from them cools the soup! - -“Anna,--the carpet in my stateroom is filled with organic matter which, -if distilled, would make a kind of anchovy paste, only fit to be the -appetizer before the famous ‘witches’ broth,’ the receipt for which -Shakespeare gives in “Macbeth”,--but on the whole the _Scotia_ is well -ordered and cleaner than I had expected. - -“On Sunday morning Thee was sick and while in bed, little Conie came -into the room. He looked down from his upper berth, looking like a -straw-colored Cockatoo, but Conie stopped in the middle of what she -was saying and said, ‘Oh Papa! you have such a lovely little curl on -your forehead’ with a note of great admiration in her voice and meaning -it all, _really_, but her position looking up, and his looking down -reminded me forcibly of the picture of the flattered crow who dropped -his cheese when the fox complimented him!” - -This letter, perhaps, more than almost any other, gives the quaint -humor and also the tenderness of my mother’s attitude toward her -children and husband. - -On our arrival in Liverpool we were greeted by the Bulloch uncles, -and from that time on the whole European trip was one of interest -and delight to the “grown people.” My older sister, though not quite -fifteen, was so unusually mature and intelligent that she shared their -enjoyment, but the journey was of rather mitigated pleasure to the -three “little ones,” who much preferred the nursery at 28th East 20th -Street, or their free summer activities in wood and field, to the -picture-galleries and museums, or even to the wonderful Swiss mountains -where they had to be so carefully guarded. - -In the letters written faithfully to our beloved aunt, the note of -homesickness is always apparent. - -Our principal delight was in what we used to call “exploring” when -we first arrived at a hotel, and in the occasional intercourse with -children of our own age, or, as in Teedie’s case, with some expert -along the line of his own interests, but the writing and receiving of -home letters stand out more strongly than almost any other memory of -this time, and amongst those most treasured by Teedie and myself were -the little missives written by our most intimate friend, Edith Kermit -Carow, a little girl who was to have, in later days, the most potent -influence of all over the life of Theodore Roosevelt. How little she -thought when she wrote to her friend “Conie” from Redbank, November -19, 1869, “I was much pleased at receiving your kind letter telling me -all about Teedie’s birthday,” that one day that very Teedie would be -President Theodore Roosevelt and Edith Kermit Carow the mistress of the -White House. - -The old friendship of our parents for Mr. and Mrs. Carow, who lived -with Mr. Carow’s older sister, Mrs. Robert Kermit, in a large house -backing up against the 14th Street mansion of Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius -Van Schaack Roosevelt, was the natural factor in the relationship of -the younger generation, and little Edith Carow and little Corinne -Roosevelt were pledged friends from the time of their birth. - -The “Teedie” of those days expressed always a homesick feeling when -“Edie’s” letters came. They seemed to fill him with a strong longing -for his native land! - -In the little note written on yellow, very minute writing-paper, headed -by a satisfied-looking cat, “Edie” expresses the wish that “Teedie” -could have been with her on a late picnic, and “Teedie,” I am equally -sure, wished for her presence at his eleventh-birthday festivities, -which were described by my sister Anna in a letter to our aunt, Mrs. -James King Grade. I quote a few lines from that letter, for again -its contents show the beautiful devotion of my father and mother and -sister to the delicate little boy--the devotion which always put their -own wishes or arrangements aside when the terrible attacks of asthma -came, for those attacks seemed to make them feel that no plan was -too definite or important to change at once should “Teedie’s” health -require it. My sister writes, the letter being dated from Brussels, -October 30, 1869: - -“Last Thursday was dear little Teedie’s birthday; he was eleven years -old. We all determined to lay ourselves out on that occasion, for -we all feared that he would be homesick,--for he is a great little -home-boy. It passed off very nicely indeed. We had to leave Berlin -suddenly the night before, for ‘Teedie’ was not very well; so we left -Berlin on Wednesday night at eight o’clock and arrived at Cologne on -Thursday morning about nine. You can imagine it was a very long trip -for the three little children, although they really bore it better -than we three older ones. [She one of the older ones at fourteen and -a half!] It was a bitterly cold night and snowed almost all the time. -Think of a snow storm on the night of the 27th of October! Teedie was -delighted at having had a snow storm on his birthday morning, for he -had never had _that_ before. When we reached Cologne we went to the -same hotel, and had the same nice rooms which we had had on our former -stay there, and that of course made us feel very much more at home. -Teedie ordered the breakfast, and they all had ‘real tea’ as a very -great treat, and then Teedie ordered the dinner, at which we were all -requested to appear in full dress; so Mamma came in her beautiful white -silk dinner dress, and Papa in dress coat and light kid gloves. I was -very cold, so only wore silk. After Teedie’s dinner Papa brought in all -his presents. They, Mamma and Papa, gave each of the three, writing -desks marked with their names and filled with all the conveniences. -Then Teedie received a number of smaller presents as well.” - -What parents, indeed, so fully to understand the romantic feeling of -the little boy about his birthday dinner, that they were more than -willing to don their most beautiful habiliments, and appear as they had -so lately appeared when received at the Vienna Court! Such yielding -to what by many people might have been considered as too childish a -whim to be countenanced shows with special clearness the quality in -my father and mother which inspired in us all such undying adoration. -Another letter--not written by my older sister, but in the painstaking -handwriting of a little girl of seven--describes my own party the -month before. We were evidently staying in Vienna at the time, for I -say: “We went to Schönbrunn, a ‘shatto.’” (More frequently known as a -château, but quite as thrilling to my childish mind spelled in my own -unique manner!) And there in the lovely grounds my mother had arranged -a charming al fresco supper for the little homesick American girl, -and just as the “grown people” were in “full dress” for “Teedie’s” -birthday, so they gave themselves up in the grounds of the great -“shatto” to making merry for the little seven-year-old girl. - -[Illustration: Corinne Roosevelt, 1869, at seven and a half years.] - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt at ten years of age.] - -[Illustration: Anna Roosevelt at the age of fifteen when she spoke of -herself as one of the “three older ones.”] - -After the great excitements of the birthdays came our interesting -sojourn in Rome. In spite of my mother’s efforts to arouse a somewhat -abortive interest in art in the hearts of the three little children, my -principal recollections of the Rome of 1869 are from the standpoint of -the splendid romps on the Pincian Hill. In those contests of running -and racing and leaping my brother Elliott was always the leader, -although “Teedie” did his part whenever his health permitted. One scene -stands out clearly in my mind. It was a beautiful day, one of those -sunny Italian days when ilex and olive shone with a special glistening -quality, and when the “Eternal City” as viewed from the high hill awoke -even in the hearts of the little Philistine foreigners a subconscious -thrill which they themselves did not quite understand. We were playing -with the Lawrence children, playing leap-frog (how inappropriate to the -Pincian Hill!) over the many posts, when suddenly there came a stir--an -unexpected excitement seemed everywhere. Word was passed that the -Pope was coming. “Teedie” whispered to the little group of American -children that he didn’t believe in popes--that no real American would; -and we all felt it was due to the stars and stripes that we should -share his attitude of distant disapproval. But then, as is often the -case, the miracle happened, for the crowd parted, and to our excited, -childish eyes something very much like a scene in a story-book took -place. The Pope, who was in his sedan-chair carried by bearers in -beautiful costumes, his benign face framed in white hair and the close -cap which he wore, caught sight of the group of eager little children -craning their necks to see him pass; and he smiled and put out one -fragile, delicate hand toward us, and, lo! the late scoffer who, in -spite of the ardent Americanism that burned in his eleven-year-old -soul, had as much reverence as militant patriotism in his nature, fell -upon his knees and kissed the delicate hand, which for a brief moment -was laid upon his fair curling hair. Whenever I think of Rome this -memory comes back to me, and in a way it was so true to the character -of my brother. The Pope to him had always meant what later he would -have called “unwarranted superstition,” but that Pope, Pio Nono, the -kindly, benign old man, the moment he appeared in the flesh brought -about in my brother’s heart the reaction which always came when the -pure, the good, or the true crossed his path. - -Amongst my mother’s efforts to interest us in art there was one -morning when she decided positively that her little girl, at least, -should do something more in keeping with the “Eternal City” than -playing leap-frog on the Pincian Hill, and so, a reluctant captive, -I was borne away to the Vatican Galleries, and was there initiated -into the beauties of some of the frescos and sculpture. My mother, -who I have already said was a natural connoisseur in all art, had -especial admiration for that wonderful piece of sculpture from the -hand of Michael Angelo known as “The Torso of the Vatican.” This work -of art stood alone in a small room, so that nothing else should take -away from its effect. As those who know it well need hardly be told, -it lacks both arms and both legs, and to the little girl who was -summarily placed by her mother in the only chair in the small room, -it seemed a very strange creation. But, with the hope of arousing -artistic instinct, my lovely mother said: “Now, darling, this is one -of the greatest works of art in the world, and I am going to leave you -here alone for five minutes, because I want you to sit very quietly -and look at it, and perhaps when I come back in the five minutes -you will be able to realize how beautiful it is.” And then I saw my -mother’s slender figure vanish into another room. Having been always -accustomed to obey my parents, I virtuously and steadily kept my eyes -upon the legless, armless Torso, wondering how any one _could_ think -it a beautiful work of art; and when my mother, true to her words, -returning in five minutes with an expectant look on her face, said, -“Now, darling, what do you think of the great ‘Torso’?” I replied -sadly, “Well, mamma, it seems to me a little ‘chumpy’!” How often later -in life I have heard my mother laugh immoderately as she described her -effort to instil her own love of those wonderful shoulders and that -massive back into her recalcitrant small daughter; and when, years -after, I myself, imbued as she was with a passion for Italy and Italian -art, used to wander through those same galleries, I could never go into -that little room without the memory of the small girl of long ago, and -her effort to think Michael Angelo’s “Torso” anything but “chumpy.” - -Christmas in Rome was made for us as much like our wonderful -Christmases at home as was possible in a foreign hotel. It had always -been our custom to go to our parents’ room at the pleasant hour of 6 -A. M., and generally my mother had induced my long-suffering father -to be dressed in some special and marvellous manner at that early -hour when we “undid” the bulging, mysterious-looking stockings, and -none of these exciting rites were omitted because of our distance -from our native land. I think, for that reason, at the end of the -beautiful Christmas Day, 1869, the special joy in the hearts of the -three little American children was that they had actually forgotten -that they were in Rome at all! On January 2, “Teedie” himself writes -to his beloved Aunt Annie (Mrs. Gracie) on a piece of note-paper which -characteristically has at the top a bird on a bough--that paper being -his choice for the writing-desks which had been given to the three -children on his birthday: “Will you send the enclosed to Edith Carow. -In it I described our ascent of Vesuvius, and so I will describe -Pompeii to you.” In a rather cramped hand he enters then into an -accurate description of everything connected with Pompeii, gloating -with scientific delight over the seventeen skeletons found in the -Street of the Tombs, but falling for one moment into a lighter vein, he -tells of two little Italian boys whom my father had engaged to come and -sing for us the same evening at Sorrento, and whose faces were so dirty -that my father and his friend Mr. Stevens washed them with “Kissengin -Water.” That extravagance seems to have been specially entertaining to -the mind of the young letter-writer. - -During the year abroad there were lovely times when we were not obliged -to think of sculpture or painting--weeks in the great Swiss mountains -when, in spite of frequent attacks of his old enemy, my father writes -that “Teedie” walked many miles and showed the pluck and perseverance -which were so strikingly part of his character. In another letter he is -described, while suffering from a peculiarly severe attack of asthma, -as being propped up all night in a big chair in the sitting-room, while -his devoted mother told him stories of “when she was a little girl” at -the old plantation at Roswell; and yet within two days of that very -time he is following my father and brother on one of the longest walks -they took in the mountains. All through the letters of that period -one realizes the developing character of the suffering little boy. My -mother writes in a letter to her sister: “Teedie and Ellie have walked -to-day thirteen miles, and are very proud of their performance. Indeed -Teedie has been further several times.” - -And so the year of exile had its joyous memories, but in spite of -them never were there happier children than those who arrived home in -America in the spring of 1870. - -Earlier in our lives my father, always thinking of the problem of -the fragile health of his two older children, conceived the idea of -turning the third room of the second story at 28 East 20th Street -into an out-of-doors piazza, a kind of open-air gymnasium, with every -imaginable swing and bar and seesaw, and my mother has often told me -how he called the boy to him one day--Theodore was now about eleven -years of age--and said: “Theodore, you have the mind but you have not -the body, and without the help of the body the mind cannot go as far as -it should. You must _make_ your body. It is hard drudgery to make one’s -body, but I know you will do it.” The little boy looked up, throwing -back his head in a characteristic fashion; then with a flash of those -white teeth which later in life became so well known that when he was -police commissioner the story ran that any recreant policeman would -faint if he suddenly came face to face with a set of _false_ teeth in a -shop-window--he said, “_I’ll make my body_.” - -That was his first important promise to himself and the delicate -little boy began his work; and for many years one of my most vivid -recollections is seeing him between horizontal bars, widening his chest -by regular, monotonous motion--drudgery indeed--but a drudgery which -eventuated in his being not only the apostle but the exponent of the -strenuous life. - -What fun we had on that piazza! The first Theodore Roosevelt, like -his son, was far ahead of his times, and fresh air was his hobby, -and he knew that the children who will cry if they are made to take -dull walks on dreary city streets, will romp with dangerous delight -ungovernessed and unmaided in an outdoor gymnasium. I use the word -“dangerous” advisedly, for one day my lovely and delicate mother had an -unforgetable shock on that same piazza. She happened to look out of the -window opening on to the piazza and saw two boys--one of whom, needless -to say, was Theodore--carefully balancing the seesaw from the high -rail which protected the children from the possibility of falling into -the back yard, two stories below. Having wearied of the usual play, the -aforesaid two boys thought they would add a tinge of excitement to the -merriment by balancing the seesaw in such a manner as to have one boy -always in the thrilling position of hanging on the farther side of the -top rail, with the possibility (unless the equilibrium were kept to -perfection) of seesaw, boys, and all descending unexpectedly into the -back yard. - -One may well imagine the horror of the mother as she saw her -adventurous offspring crawling out beyond the projection of the -railing, and only great self-control enabled her to reach the wooden -board held lightly by the fingers of an equally criminal cousin, and by -an agonized clutch make it impossible for the seesaw to slide down with -its two foolhardy riders. - -Needless to say, no such feat was ever performed again, but the piazza -became the happy meeting-ground of all the boys and girls of the -neighborhood, and there not only Theodore Roosevelt but many of his -friends and family put in a stock of sturdy health which was to do them -good service in later years. At the same time the children of that -house were leading the normal lives of other little children, except -for the individual industry of the more delicate one, who put his hours -of necessary quiet into voracious reading of history, and study of -natural history. - -Again the summers were the special delight of our lives, and the -following several summers we spent on the Hudson River, at or near -Riverdale, where warm friendships were formed with the children of our -parents’ friends, Mr. and Mrs. William E. Dodge, Mr. and Mrs. Percy R. -Pyne, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Harriman, and Mr. Robert Colgate. - -Groups of joyous children invented and carried into effect every -imaginable game, and, as ever, our father was the delightful -collaborator in every scheme of pleasure. There began Theodore’s more -active collection of birds and animals. There he advertised for -families of field-mice, and the influx of the all-too-prolific little -animals was terrifying to the heart of so perfect a housekeeper as -my mother. The horror produced by the discovery of several of the -above-named families in the refrigerator was more than trying to -the nerves of one less devoted to science. My sister Anna, the most -unselfish of older sisters, was the chief sufferer always, as, in -spite of her extreme youth--for she was only four years older than my -brother--her unusual ability and maturity made her seem more like a -second mother than a sister. On one special occasion Theodore, having -advertised and offered the large sum of ten cents for every field-mouse -and thirty-five cents for a family, left for a trip to the Berkshire -hills, and my poor sister was inundated by hundreds of active and -unattractive families of field-mice, while clamoring country people -demanded their ten-cent pieces or the larger sum irrelevantly offered -by the absentee young naturalist. In the same unselfish manner my -sister was the unwilling recipient of families of young squirrels, -guinea-pigs, etc., and I can see her still bringing up one especially -delicate family of squirrels on the bottle, and also begging a -laundress not to forsake the household because turtles were tied to her -tubs! - -Those summers on the Hudson River stand out as peculiarly happy days. -As I have said before, we were allowed great freedom, although never -license, in the summer-time, and situated as we then were, with a group -of little friends about us, the long sweet days passed like a joyous -dream. - -Doctor Hilborne West, the husband of my mother’s half-sister, stands -prominently out as a figure in those childhood times. My mother writes -of him as follows: “Dr. West has made himself greatly beloved by each -child. He has made boats and sailed them with Ellie; has read poetry -and acted plays with Conie; and has talked science and medicine and -natural history with Teedie, who always craves knowledge.” In spite of -his craving for knowledge the boy, now nearly fourteen years old, had -evidently, however, the normal love of noise and racket, as evinced by -the following “spread-eagle” letter to his aunt, who, in her turn, had -gone abroad that summer. - - Dobb’s Ferry, July 9th, 72. - - DEAR AUNTIE - - We had the most splendid fun on the fourth of July. At eight - o’clock we commenced with a discharge of three packs of - firecrackers, which awoke most of the people. But we had only begun - now, and during the remainder of the day six boxes of torpedoes and - thirty-six packs of firecrackers kept the house in an exceedingly - lively condition. That evening it rained which made us postpone - the fireworks until next evening, when they were had with great - success, excepting the balloons, which were an awful swindle. We - boys assisted by firing roman candles, flowerpots and bengolas. We - each got his fair share of burns. - - Conie had a slight attack of asthma last night but I took her - riding this morning and we hope she is well now. - - We are permitted now to stay in the water as long as we please. The - other day I came near being drowned, for I got caught under water - and was almost strangled before I could get out. I study English, - French, German and Latin now. Bamie spent the fourth at Barrytown - where she had Tableaux, Dances, &c. to her heart’s content. Give my - love to Uncles and Cousin Jimmie. Aunt Hattie &c. Tell Aunt Hattie - I will never forget the beautiful jam and the splendid times we had - at her cottage. - - Ever your little - T. D. - -Later in life, in thinking of this same uncle, whose subsequent career -never squared with his natural ability, I have come to feel that -sometimes people whom we call failures should not be so called,--for -it is often their good fortune to leave upon the malleable minds of -the next generation an inspiration of which they themselves fall -sadly short. In the character of this same charming uncle there must -have been some lack of fibre, for, brilliant as he was, he let his -talents lie dormant. Yet, perhaps, of all those who influenced our -early childhood, the effect upon us produced by his cultivation, his -marvellous memory, his literary interests, and his genial good humor -had more to do with the early stirring of intellectual desires in his -little relatives than almost any other influence at that time. The very -fact that he was not achieving a thousand worth-while things, as was my -father, the very fact that he was not busied with the practical care -and thought for us, as were my mother and aunt--brought about between -us that delightful relationship when the older person leads rather -than drives the younger into the paths of literature and learning. To -have “Uncle Hill” read Shakespeare to us under the trees, and then -suggest that we “dress up” and act the parts, to have “Uncle Hill” -teach us parts of the famous plays of all the ages and the equally -famous poems, was a delight rather than a task; and he interspersed -his Shakespeare with the most remarkable, and, to our childish minds, -brilliant doggerel, sometimes of his own making, that could possibly be -imagined--so that Hamlet’s soliloquy one day seemed quite as palatable -as “Villikins and His Dinah,” or “Horum, Chorum, Sumpti Vorum,” the -next. To show the relationship between the charming physician of -Philadelphia (the home of my uncle and aunt was in that city) and the -young philosopher of New York, I am tempted to insert a letter from -the latter to the former written in 1873 from Paris on our second trip -abroad. - -“From Theodore the Philosopher to Hilborne, Elder of the Church of -Philadelphia. Dated from Paris, a city of Gaul, in the 16th day of the -11th month of the 4th year of the reign of Ulysses. [I imagine that -General Grant was then President.] Truly, O Hilborne! this is the first -time in many weeks that I have been able to write you concerning our -affairs. I have just come from the city of Bonn in the land of the -Teuton, where I have been communing with our fellow labourer James -of Roosevelt, surnamed The Doctor [our first cousin, young James -West Roosevelt], whom I left in good health. In crossing the Sea of -Atlantis I suffered much of a malady called sickness of the sea, but am -now in good health, as are also all our family. I would that you should -speak to the sage Leidy concerning the price of his great manuscript, -which I am desirous of getting. Give my regards to Susan of West, whom -I hope this letter will find in health. I have procured many birds of -kinds new to me here, and have preserved them. This is all I have to -say for the time being, so will close this short epistle.”[A] - - [A] This in a boyish hand which is beginning to show the - character of the young author. - - * * * * * - -That summer of 1872 was very enchanting, although overshadowed by the -thought of another “terrible trip to Europe,” for after much thought -my father and mother had decided that the benefits of a winter on the -Nile, and a summer studying German in Dresden, would outweigh the -possible disadvantage of breaking into the regular school studies of -the three children of the 20th Street nursery. Therefore the whole -family set sail again in the autumn of 1872. - -After a delightful time with the uncles and aunts who had settled in -England, and many gay excursions to Hampton Court and Bushey Park, -and other places of interest, we went by way of Paris and Brindisi to -Alexandria, and after some weeks in Cairo set sail on a dahabeah for -three months on the Nile. In a letter from my brother Elliott to my -aunt he speaks of my father’s purchase of a boat. With characteristic -disregard of the historic interest of the Nile he says: “Teedie and -I won’t mind the Nile very much, now that we have a boat to row in, -perhaps it won’t be so bad after all what with rowing, boxing, and -Christmas and playing, in between lessons and the ruins.” Reaching -Egypt, the same young lover of boxing and boats writes of meeting -much-beloved cousins, and again the characters of “Ellie” and “Teedie” -are markedly brought out in the childish letter, for he says, “We had -such a cosey tea. Frank and I poured tea and cut up chicken, while -Teedie and Jimmie [the young cousin referred to in ‘Teedie’s’ letter to -Doctor West] talked about natural history.” - -The experience of a winter on the Nile was a very wonderful one for -the little American children, and “Ellie’s” anticipations were more -than carried out. Before we actually set sail I write in my journal of -our wonderful trip to the pyramids and our impressions, childish ones -of course, of the marvellous bazaars; and then we finally leave Cairo -and start on the journey up the ancient river. I have always been so -glad that our trip was before the days of the railway up to Karnak, for -nothing could have been more Oriental and unlike modern life than the -slow progress of our dahabeah, the _Aboo Erdan_. When there was wind -we tacked and slowly sailed, for the boat was old and bulky, but when -there was no wind the long line of sailors would get out on the bank of -the river and, tying themselves to the rope attached to the bow, would -track slowly along, bending their bronzed backs with the effort, and -singing curious crooning songs. - -In a letter dated December 27 I write to my aunt: “I will tell you -about my presents. Amongst others I got a pair of pretty vases, and -Teedie says the little birds they have on them are an entirely new -species. Teedie and Father go out shooting every day, and so far have -been very lucky. Teedie is always talking about it whenever he comes -in the room,--in fact when he does come in the room you always hear -the words ‘bird’ and ‘skin.’ _It certainly is great fun for him._” In -connection with these same shooting-trips my father writes: “Teedie -took his gun and shot an ibis and one or two other specimens this -morning while the crew were taking breakfast. Imagine seeing not only -flocks of these birds, regarded as so rare by us in days gone by as to -be selected as a subject for our game of ‘twenty questions,’ but also -of storks, hawks, owls, pelicans, and, above all, doves innumerable. -I presented Teedie with a breech-loader at Christmas, and he was -perfectly delighted. It was entirely unexpected to him, although he -had been shooting with it as mine. He is a most enthusiastic sportsman -and has infused some of his spirit into me. Yesterday I walked through -the bogs with him at the risk of sinking hopelessly and helplessly, for -hours, and carried the dragoman’s gun, which is a muzzle-loader, with -which I only shot several birds quietly resting upon distant limbs and -fallen trees; _but I felt I must keep up with Teedie_.” - -The boy of fourteen, with his indomitable energy, was already leading -his equally indomitable father into different fields of action. He -never rested from his studies in natural history. When not walking -through quivering bogs or actually shooting bird and beast, he, -surrounded by the brown-faced and curious sailors, would seat himself -on the deck of the dahabeah and skin and stuff the products of his -sport. I well remember the excitement, and, be it confessed, anxiety -and fear inspired in the hearts of the four young college men who, -on another dahabeah, accompanied us on the Nile, when the ardent -young sportsman, mounted on an uncontrollable donkey, would ride -unexpectedly into their midst, his gun slung across his shoulders in -such a way as to render its proximity distinctly dangerous as he bumped -absent-mindedly against them. When not actually hunting he was willing -to take part in exploration of the marvellous old ruins. - -In a letter to “Edie” I say: “The other day we arrived at Edfoo, and -we all went to see the temple together. While we were there Teedie, -Ellie, Iesi (one of our sailors), and I started to explore. We went -into a little dark room and climbed in a hole which was in the middle -of the wall. The boys had candles. It was dark, crawling along the -passage doubled up. At last we came to a deep hole, into which Teedie -dropped, and we found out it was a mummy pit. It didn’t go very far -in, but it all seemed very exciting to us to be exploring mummy pits. -Sometimes we sail head foremost and sometimes the current turns us all -the way around--and I wish you could hear the cries of the sailors when -anything happens.” - -They were busy days, for our wise parents insisted upon regularity -of a certain kind, and my older sister, only just eighteen, gave us -lessons in both French and English in the early morning before we went -on the wonderful excursions to the great temples, or before “Teedie” -was allowed to escape for his shooting expeditions. I do not think the -three months’ absence from school was any detriment, and I am very -grateful for the stimulating interest which that trip on the Nile gave -to my brothers and me. I can still see in retrospect, as if it were -yesterday, the great temple of Karnak as we visited it by moon-light; -the majestic colossi at Medinet Haboo; and the more beautiful and -delicate ruins of Philæ. Often my father would read Egyptian history to -us or explain the kind of architecture which we were seeing; but always -interspersed with more serious instruction were merry walks and games -and wonderful picnic excursions, so that the winter on the Nile comes -back to me as one of romantic interest mixed with the usual fun and -cheerful intercourse of our ordinary family life. The four young men -who had chartered the dahabeah _Rachel_ were Messrs. Nathaniel Thayer -and Frank Merriam of Boston, Augustus Jay of New York, and Harry Godey -of Philadelphia, and these four friends, with the addition of other -acquaintances whom we frequently met, made for my sister and my parents -a delightful circle, into which we little ones were welcomed in a most -gracious way. - -In spite of the fact of the charms of the Nile and the fun we -frequently had, I write on February 1, from Thebes, to my little -playmate “Edie,” with rather melancholy reminiscence of a more -congenial past: “My own darling Edie,” I say, “don’t you remember what -fun we _used_ to have out in the country, and don’t you remember the -day we got Pony Grant up in the Chauncey’s summer house and couldn’t -get him down again, and how we always were losing Teedie’s india rubber -shoes? I remember it so perfectly, and what fun it was!” I evidently -feel that such adventures were preferable to those in which we were -indulging in far-away Egypt, although I conscientiously describe the -ear on one of the colossi at Medinet Haboo as being four feet high, -and the temple, I state, with great accuracy, has twelve columns at -the north and ten on either side! I seem, however, to be glad to come -back from that expedition to Medinet Haboo, for I state that I wish -she could see our dahabeah, which is a regular little home. I don’t -approve--in this same letter--of the dancing-girls, which my parents -allowed me to see one evening. With early Victorian criticism I state -that “there is not a particle of grace in their motions, for they only -wriggle their bodies like a snake,” and that I really felt they were -“very unattractive”--thus proving that the little girl of eleven in -1873 was more or less prim in her tastes. I delight, however, in a poem -which I copy for “Edie,” the first phrase of which has rung in my ears -for many a long day. - - “Alas! must I say it, fare-farewell to thee, - Mysterious Egypt, great land of the flea, - And thy Thebaic temples, Luxor and Karnac, - Where the natives change slowly from yellow to black. - Shall I ne’er see thy plain, so fraught with renown, - Where the shadoofs go up and the shadoofs go down, - Which two stalwart natives bend over and sing, - While their loins are concealed by a simple shoe string.” - -This verse, in spite of the reference to the lack of clothes of the -stalwart natives, evidently did not shock my sensibilities as much as -the motions of the dancing-girls. Farther on in the letter I describe -the New Year’s Eve party, and how Mr. Merriam sang a song which I -(Conie) liked very much, and which was called “She’s Naughty But So -Nice.” “Teedie,” however, did not care for that song, but preferred one -called “Aunt Dinah,” because one verse ran: “My love she am a giraffe, -a two-humped camamile.” [Music had apparently only charms to soothe him -when suggestive of his beloved animal studies.] From Thebes also my -brother writes to his aunt one of the most interesting letters of his -boyhood: - - Near Kom Obos, Jan. 26th, 1873. - - DEAR AUNT ANNIE: - - My right hand having recovered from the imaginary attack from which - it did _not_ suffer, I proceed to thank you for your kind present, - which very much delighted me. We are now on the Nile and have been - on that great and mysterious river for over a month. I think I have - never enjoyed myself so much as in this month. There has always - been something to do, for we could always fall back upon shooting - when everything else failed us. And then we had those splendid - and grand old ruins to see, and one of them will stock you with - thoughts for a month. The temple that I enjoyed most was Karnak. - We saw it by moonlight. I never was impressed by anything so much. - To wander among those great columns under the same moon that had - looked down on them for thousands of years was awe-inspiring; it - gave rise to thoughts of the ineffable, the unutterable; thoughts - which you cannot express, which cannot be uttered, which cannot be - answered until after The Great Sleep. - - [Here the little philosopher breaks off and continues in less - serious mood on February 9.] - - I have had great enjoyment from the shooting here, as I have - procured between one and two hundred skins. I expect to procure - some more in Syria. Inform Emlen of this. As you are probably - aware, Father presented me on Christmas with a double-barrelled - breech loading shot gun, which I never move on shore without, - excepting on Sundays. The largest bird I have yet killed is a Crane - which I shot as it rose from a lagoon near Thebes. - - The sporting is injurious to my trousers.... - - Now that I am on the subject of dress I may as well mention that - the dress of the inhabitants up to ten years of age is nothing. - After that they put on a shirt descended from some remote ancestor, - and never take it off till the day of their death. - - Mother is recovering from an attack of indigestion, but the rest - are all well and send love to you and our friends, in which I join - sincerely, and remain, - - Your Most Affectionate Nephew, - T. ROOSEVELT, JR. - -The adoration of his little sister for the erudite “Teedie” is shown in -every letter, especially in the letters to their mutual little friend -“Edie.” On January 25 this admiration is summed up in a postscript -which says: “Teedie is out shooting now. He is quite professionist [no -higher praise could apparently be given than this remarkable word] -in shooting, skinning and stuffing, and he is so satisfied.” This -expression seems to sum up the absolute sense of well-being during that -wonderful winter of the delicate boy, who, in spite of his delicacy, -always achieved his heart’s desire. - -In the efforts of his little sister to be a worthy companion, I find in -my diary, written that same winter of the Nile, one abortive struggle -on my own part to become a naturalist. On the page at the end of my -journal I write in large letters: - - NATURAL HISTORY - - “QUAIL - - “Ad. near Alexandria, Egypt, November 27th, 1872. Length 5--Expanse - 13.0 Wings 5 Tail 1.3--Bill 5. Tarsus 1.2 Middle Toe 1.1 Hind Toe - .3.” - -Under these mystic signs is a more elaborate and painstaking -description of the above bird. I can see my brother now giving me a -serious lecture on the subject, and trying to inspire a mind at that -time securely closed to all such interests--to open at least a crack -of its reluctant door, for “Teedie” felt that to walk with blind -eyes in a world of such fluttering excitement as was made for him by -the birds of the air showed an innate depravity which he wished with -all his soul to cure in his beloved little sister. At the end of my -description of the quail I fall by the wayside, and only once again -make an excursion into the natural history of the great land of Egypt; -only once more do I struggle with the description of a bird called -this time by the curious name of “Ziczac.” (Could this be “Zigzag,” or -was it simply my childish mind that zigzagged in its painful efforts -to follow the impossible trail of my elder brother?) In my account of -this, to say the least, unusual bird I remark: “Tarsus not finished.” -Whether _I_ have not finished the tarsus, or whether the bird itself -had an arrested development of some kind, I do not explain; and on -the blank page opposite this final effort in scientific adventure I -finish, as I began, by the words “_Natural History_,” and underneath -them, to explain my own unsuccessful efforts, I write: “My Brother, -Theodore Roosevelt, Esq.” Whether I had decided that all natural -history was summed up in that magic name, or whether from that time on -I was determined to leave all natural history to my brother, Theodore -Roosevelt, Esq., I do not know; but the fact remains that from that day -to this far distant one I have never again dipped into the mystery of -mandibles and tarsi. - - * * * * * - -And so the sunny, happy days on the great river passed away. A merry -eighteenth-birthday party in January for my sister Anna took the form -of a moonlight ride to the great temple of Karnak, and, although we -younger ones, naturally tired frequently of the effort to understand -history and hieroglyphics, and turned with joy even in the shadow of -the grand columns of Abydos to the game of “Buzz,” still I can say with -truth that the easily moulded and receptive minds of the three little -children responded to the atmosphere of the great river with its mighty -past, and all through the after-years the interest aroused in those -early days stimulated their craving for knowledge about the land of the -Pharaohs. - -On our way down the river an incident occurred which, in a sense, -was also memorable. At Rhoda on our return from the tombs of Beni -Hasan we found that a dahabeah had drawn up near ours, on which were -the old sage Ralph Waldo Emerson and his daughter. My father, who -never lost a chance of bringing into the lives of his children some -worth-while memory, took us all to see the old poet, and I often think -with pleasure of the lovely smile, somewhat vacant, it is true, but -very gentle, with which he received the little children of his fellow -countryman. - -It was at this time that the story was told in connection with Mr. -Emerson that some sentimental person said: “How wonderful to think of -Emerson looking at the Sphinx! What a message the Sphinx must have had -for Emerson.” Whereupon an irreverent wit replied: “The only message -the Sphinx could possibly have had for Emerson must have been ‘You’re -another.’” I can quite understand now, remembering the mystic, dreamy -face of the old philosopher, how this witticism came about. - - * * * * * - -And now the Nile trip was over and we were back again in Cairo, and -planning for the further interest of a trip through the Holy Land. Mr. -Thayer and Mr. Jay, two of the young friends who had accompanied us on -the Nile, decided to join our party, and after a short stay in Cairo -we again left for Alexandria and thence sailed for Jaffa. In my diary -I write at the Convent of Ramleh between Jaffa and Jerusalem, where we -spent our first night: “In Jaffa we chose our horses, which was very -exciting, and started on our long ride. After three hours of delightful -riding through a great many green fields, we reached this convent and -found they had no room for ladies, because they were not allowed to go -into one part of the building as it was against the rules, but at last -Father got the old monks to allow us to come into another part of the -convent for just one night.” - -“Father,” like his namesake, almost always got what he wanted. - -From that time on one adventure after another followed. I write of many -nice gallops, and of my horse lying down in the middle of streams; and, -incidentally with less interest, of the Mount of Olives and the Church -of the Holy Sepulchre! Antonio Sapienza proved to be an admirable -dragoman, and always the practical part of the tenting cavalcade -started early in the morning, and therefore as the rest of us rode -over the hills in the later afternoon we would see arranged cosily in -some beautiful valley the white tents, with the curling smoke from the -kitchen-tent already rising with the promise of a delightful dinner. - -Over Jordan we went, and what a very great disappointment Jordan was -to our childish minds, which had always pictured a broad river and -great waves parting for the Ark of the Covenant to pass. This Jordan -was a little stream hardly more impressive than the brook at our old -home at Madison, and we could not quite accustom ourselves to the -disappointment. But Jerusalem with its narrow streets and gates, -its old churches, the high Mount of Olives, and the little town of -Bethlehem not far away, and, even more interesting from the standpoint -of beauty, the vision of the Convent of Mar Saba on the high hill not -far from Hebron, and beyond all else the blue sparkling waters of the -Dead Sea, all remain in my memory as a wonderful panorama of romance -and delight. - -Arab sheiks visited us frequently in the evening and brought their -followers to dance for us, and wherever my father went he accumulated -friends of all kinds and colors, and we, his children, shared in the -marvellous atmosphere he created. I remember, in connection with the -Dead Sea, that “Teedie” and Mr. Jay decided that they could sink in -it, although the guides had warned them that the salt was so buoyant -that it was impossible for any living thing to sink in the waters (the -Dead Sea was about the most alive sea that I personally have ever -seen), and so the two adventurous ones undertook to dive, and tried -to remain under water. “Teedie” fortunately relinquished the effort -almost immediately, but Mr. Jay, who in a spirit of bravado struggled -to remain at the bottom, suffered the ill effects from crusted salt in -eyes and ears for many hours after leaving the water. - -For about three weeks we rode through the Holy Land, and my memory of -many flowers remains as one of the charms of that trip. Later, led in -the paths of botany by a beloved friend, I often longed to go back to -that land of flowers; but then to my childish eyes they meant nothing -but beauty and delight. - -After returning to Jerusalem and Jaffa we took ship again and landed -this time at Beyrout, and started on another camping-trip to Damascus, -through perhaps the most beautiful scenery which we had yet enjoyed. -During that trip also we had various adventures. I describe in my diary -how my father, at one of our stopping-places, brought to our tents some -beautiful young Arab girls, how they gave us oranges and nuts, and how -cordially they begged us, when a great storm came up and our tents were -blown away, to come for shelter to their quaint little houses. - -Even to the minds of the children of eleven and fourteen years of age, -the great Temple of Baalbek proved a lure of beauty, and the diary -sagely remarks that “It is quite as beautiful as Karnak, although in -an entirely different way, as Baalbek has delicate columns, and Karnak -great, massive columns.” The beauty, however, is not a matter of such -interest as the mysterious little subterranean passages, and I tell how -“Teedie” helped me to climb the walls and little tower, and to crawl -through these same unexplored dark places. - -The ride into Damascus itself remains still an expedition of glamour, -for we reached the vicinity of the city by a high cliff, and the -city burst upon us with great suddenness, its minarets stretching -their delicate, arrow-like spires to the sky in so Oriental a fashion -that even the practical hearts of the little American children -responded with a thrill of excitement. Again, after an interesting -stay in Damascus, we made our way back to Beyrout. While waiting for -the steamer there my brother Elliott was taken ill, and writes in a -homesick fashion to the beloved aunt to whom we confided all our joys -and woes. Poor little boy! He says pathetically: “Oh, Auntie, you don’t -know how I long for a finishing-up of this ever-lasting traveling, when -we can once more sit down to breakfast, dinner and lunch in our own -house. Since I have been sick and only allowed rice and chicken,--and -very little of them--I have longed for one of our rice puddings, and -a pot of that strawberry jam, and one of Mary’s sponge cakes, and I -have thought of when I would go to your rooms for dinner and what jolly -chops and potatoes and dessert I would get there, and when I would come -to breakfast we would have _buckwheat cakes_. Perhaps I am a little -homesick.” I am not so sure but what many an intelligent traveller, -could his or her heart be closely examined, would find written upon it -“lovely potatoes, chops and hot buckwheat cakes.” - -But all the same, in spite of “Ellie’s” rhapsody, off we started on -another steamer, and my father writes on March 28, 1873: - - Steamer off Rhodes. - - Teedie is in great spirits, as the sailors have caught for him - numerous specimens, which he stuffs on deck, to the edification of - a large audience. - -I write during the same transit, after stopping at Athens, that “It is -a very lovely town, and that I should have liked to stay there longer, -but that was not to be.” I also decided that although the ruins were -beautiful, I did not like them as much as either Karnak or Baalbek. -Having dutifully made these architectural criticisms, I turn with gusto -to the fact that Tom and Fannie Lawrence, “Teedie,” “Ellie,” and I -have such splendid games of tag on the different steamers, and that I -know my aunt would have enjoyed seeing us. The tag was “con amore,” -while the interest in the temples was, I fear, somewhat induced. Our -comprehending mother and father, however, always allowed us joyous -moments between educational efforts. In a letter from Constantinople -written by “Ellie” on April 7, he says: “We have had Tom and Frank -Lawrence here to dinner, and we had a splendid game of ‘muggins’ and -tried to play eucre (I don’t know that this is rightly spelled) with -five, but did not suceede, Teedie did make such mistakes. [Not such an -expert in cards, you see, as in tarsi and mandibles!] But we were in -such spirits that it made no difference, and we did nothing but shout -at the top of our voices the battle cry of freedom; and the playing of -a game of slapjack helped us get off our steam with hard slaps, but -even then there was enough (steam) left in Teedie and Tom to have a -candle fight and grease their clothes, and poor Frank’s and mine, who -were doing nothing at all!” As one can see by this description, the -learned and rather delicate “Teedie” was only a normal, merry boy after -all. “Ellie” describes also the wonderful rides in Constantinople, and -many other joys planned by our indulgent parents. From that same city, -called because of its many steeples The City of Minarets, “Teedie” -writes to his little friend Edith: - - I think I have enjoyed myself more this winter than I ever did - before. Much to add to my enjoyment Father gave me a gun at - Christmas, which rendered me happy and the rest of the family - miserable. - - I killed several hundred birds with it, and then went and lost it! - I think I enjoyed the time in Egypt most, and after that I had the - most fun while camping out in Syria. - - While camping out we were on horseback for several hours of each - day, and as I like riding ever so much, and as the Syrian horses - are very good, we had a splendid time. While riding I bothered the - family somewhat by carrying the gun over my shoulder, and on the - journey to the Jordan, when I was on the most spirited horse I ever - rode, I bothered the horse too, as was evidenced by his running - away several times when the gun struck him too hard. Our tent life - had a good many adventures in it. Once it rained very hard and the - rain went into our open trunks. Another time our tents were almost - blown away in a rough wind, and once I hunted a couple of jackals - for two or three miles as fast as the horse could go. - - Yours truly, - T. ROOSEVELT, JR. - -This little missive sums up the joy of “Teedie’s” winter in Egypt and -Syria, and so it seems a fitting moment to turn to other interests -and occupations, leaving the mysterious land of the pyramids and that -sacred land of mountains and flowers behind us in a glow of child -memories, which as year followed year became brighter rather than -dimmer. - - - - -III - -THE DRESDEN LITERARY AMERICAN CLUB - -MOTTO “W. A. N. A.” - - -It was a sad change to the three young American children to settle in -Dresden in two German families, after the care-free and stimulating -experiences of Egypt and the Holy Land. Our wise parents, however, -realized that a whole year of irregularity was a serious mistake in -that formative period of our lives, and they also wished to leave no -stone unturned to give us every educational advantage during our twelve -months’ absence from home and country. It was decided, therefore, -that the two boys should be placed in the family of Doctor and Mrs. -Minckwitz, while I, a very lone and homesick small girl, was put with -some kind but far too elderly people, Professor and Mrs. Wackernagel. -This last arrangement was supposed to be advantageous, so that the -brothers and sister should not speak too much English together. The -kind old professor and his wife and the daughters, who seemed to the -little girl of eleven years on the verge of the grave (although only -about forty years of age), did all that was in their power to lighten -the agonized longing in the child’s heart for her mother and sister, -but to no avail, for I write to my mother, who had gone to Carlsbad -for a cure: “I was perfectly miserable and very much unstrung when -Aunt Lucy wrote to you that no one could mention your name or I would -instantly begin to cry. Oh! Mother darling, sometimes I feel that I -cannot stand it any longer but I am going to try to follow a motto -which Father wrote to me, ‘Try to have the best time you can.’ I -should be very sorry to disappoint Father but sometimes I feel as if I -could not stand it any longer. We will talk it over when you come. Your -own little Conie.” - -Poor little girl! I was trying to be noble; for my father, who had -been obliged to return to America for business reasons, had impressed -me with the fact that to spend part of the summer in a German family -and thus learn the language was an unusual opportunity, and one that -must be seized upon. My spirit was willing, but my flesh was very, very -weak, and the age of the kind people with whom I had been placed, the -strange, dreadful, black bread, the meat that was given only as a great -treat after it had been boiled for soup--everything, in fact, conduced -to a feeling of great distance from the lovely land of buckwheat cakes -and rare steak, not to mention the separation from the beloved brothers -whom I was allowed to see only at rare intervals during the week. The -consequence was that very soon my mother came back to Dresden in answer -to the pathos of my letters, for I found it impossible to follow that -motto, so characteristic of my father, “Try to have the best time you -can.” I began to sicken very much as the Swiss mountaineers are said -to lose their spirits and appetites when separated from their beloved -mountains; so my mother persuaded the kind Minckwitz family to take -me under their roof, as well as my brothers, and from that time forth -there was no more melancholy, no bursting into poetic dirges constantly -celebrating the misery of a young American in a German family. - -From the time that I was allowed to be part of the Minckwitz family -everything seemed to be fraught with interest and many pleasures as -well as with systematic good hard work. In these days, when the word -“German” has almost a sinister sound in the ears of an American, I -should like to speak with affectionate respect of _that_ German family -in which the three little American children passed several happy -months. The members of the family were typically Teutonic in many ways: -the Herr Hofsrath was the kindliest of creatures, and his rubicund, -smiling wife paid him the most loving court; the three daughters--gay, -well-educated, and very temperamental young women--threw themselves -into the work of teaching us with a hearty good will, which met with -real response from us, as that kind of effort invariably does. Our -two cousins, the same little cousins who had shared the happy summer -memories of Madison, New Jersey, when we were much younger, were also -in Dresden with their mother, Mrs. Stuart Elliott, the “Aunt Lucy” -referred to frequently in our letters. Aunt Lucy was bravely facing -the results of the sad Civil War, and her only chance of giving her -children a proper education was to take them to a foreign country where -the possibility of good schools, combined with inexpensive living, -suited her depleted income. Her little apartment on Sunday afternoons -was always open to us all, and there we, five little cousins formed the -celebrated “D. L. A. C.” (Dresden Literary American Club!) - -On June 2 I wrote to my friend “Edie”: “We five children have gotten -up a club and meet every Sunday at Aunt Lucy’s, and read the poetry -and stories that we have written during the week. When the book is all -done, we will sell the book either to mother or Aunt Annie and divide -the money; (although on erudition bent, still of commercial mind!) -_I_ am going to write poetry all the time. My first poem was called -‘A Sunny Day in June.’ Next time I am going to give ‘The Lament of -an American in a German Family.’ It is an entirely different style I -assure you.” The “different style” is so very poor that I refrain from -quoting that illustrious poem. - -[Illustration: The Dresden Literary American Club--Motto, “W. A. N. A.” -(“We Are No Asses”). - -From left to right: Theodore Roosevelt, aged 14¾ years; Elliott -Roosevelt, aged 13½ years; Maud Elliott, aged 12¾ years; Corinne -Roosevelt, aged 11¾ years; John Elliott, aged 14½ years. July 1, 1873.] - -The work for the D. L. A. C. proved to be a very entertaining pastime, -and great competition ensued. A motto was chosen by “Johnnie” and -“Ellie,” who were the wits of the society. The motto was spoken of with -bated breath and mysteriously inscribed W. A. N. A. underneath the -mystic signs of D. L. A. C. For many a long year no one but those in -our strictest confidence were allowed to know that “W. A. N. A.” stood -for “We Are No Asses.” This, perhaps somewhat untruthful statement, -was objected to originally by “Teedie,” who firmly maintained that -the mere making of such a motto showed that “Johnnie” and “Ellie” -were certainly exceptions that proved that rule. “Teedie” himself, -struggling as usual with terrible attacks of asthma that perpetually -undermined his health and strength, was all the same, between the -attacks, the ringleader in fun and gaiety and every imaginable humorous -adventure. He was a slender, overgrown boy at the time, and wore his -hair long in true German student fashion, and adopted a would-be -philosopher type of look, effectively enhanced by trousers that were -outgrown, and coat sleeves so short that they gave him a “Smike”-like -appearance. His contributions to the immortal literary club were either -serious and very accurate from a natural-historical standpoint, or else -they showed, as comparatively few of his later writings have shown, -the delightful quality of humor which, through his whole busy life, -lightened for him every load and criticism. I cannot resist giving in -full the fascinating little story called “Mrs. Field Mouse’s Dinner -Party,” in which the personified animals played social parts, in the -portrayal of which my brother divulged (my readers must remember he was -only fourteen) a knowledge of “society” life, its acrid jealousies and -hypocrisies, of which he never again seemed to be conscious. - - MRS. FIELD MOUSE’S DINNER PARTY - - BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT--AGED FOURTEEN - - “My Dear,” said Mrs. M. to Mr. M. one day as they were sitting on - an elegant acorn sofa, just after breakfast, “My Dear, I think that - we really must give a dinner party.” “A What, my love?” exclaimed - Mr. M. in a surprised tone. “A Dinner Party”; returned Mrs. M. - firmly, “you have no objections I suppose?” - - “Of course not, of course not,” said Mr. M. hastily, for there was - an ominous gleam in his wife’s eye. “But--but why have it yet for a - while, my love?” “Why indeed! A pretty question! After that odious - Mrs. Frog’s great tea party the other evening! But that is just - it, you never have any proper regard for your station in life, and - on me involves all the duty of keeping up appearances, and after - all _this_ is the gratitude I get for it!” And Mrs. M. covered her - eyes and fell into hysterics of 50 flea power. Of course, Mr. M. - had to promise to have it whenever she liked. - - “Then the day after tomorrow would not be too early, I suppose?” - “My Dear,” remonstrated the unfortunate Mr. M., but Mrs. M. did not - heed him and continued: “You could get the cheese and bread from - Squeak, Nibble & Co. with great ease, and the firm of Brown House - and Wood Rats, with whom you have business relations, you told me, - could get the other necessaries.” - - “But in such a short time,” commenced Mr. M. but was sharply cut - off by the lady; “Just like you, Mr. M.! Always raising objections! - and when I am doing all I can to help you!” Symptoms of hysterics - and Mr. M. entirely convinced, the lady continues: “Well, then we - will have it the day after tomorrow. By the way, I hear that Mr. - Chipmunck has got in a new supply of nuts, and you might as well - go over after breakfast and get them, before they are bought by - someone else.” - - “I have a business engagement with Sir Butterfly in an hour,” began - Mr. M. but stopped, meekly got his hat and went off at a glance - from Mrs. M.’s eye. - - When he was gone, the lady called down her eldest daughter, the - charming Miss M. and commenced to arrange for the party. - - “We will use the birch bark plates,”--commenced Mrs. M. - - “And the chestnut ‘tea set,’” put in her daughter. - - “With the maple leaf vases, of course,” continued Mrs. M. - - “And the eel bone spoons and forks,” added Miss M. - - “And the dog tooth knives,” said the lady. - - “And the slate table cloth,” replied her daughter. - - “Where shall we have the ball anyhow,” said Mrs. M. - - “Why, Mr. Blind Mole has let his large subterranean apartments and - that would be the best place,” said Miss M. - - “Sir Lizard’s place, ‘Shady Nook,’ which we bought the other day, - is far better _I_ think,” said Mrs. M. “But _I_ don’t,” returned - her daughter. “Miss M. be still,” said her mother sternly, and Miss - M. _was_ still. So it was settled that the ball was to be held at - ‘Shady Nook.’ - - “As for the invitations, Tommy Cricket will carry them around,” - said Mrs. M. “But who shall we have?” asked her daughter. After - some discussion, the guests were determined on. Among them were - all the Family of Mice and Rats, Sir Lizard, Mr. Chipmunck, Sir - Shrew, Mrs. Shrew, Mrs. Bullfrog, Miss Katydid, Sir Grasshopper, - Lord Beetle, Mr. Ant, Sir Butterfly, Miss Dragonfly, Mr. Bee, Mr. - Wasp, Mr. Hornet, Madame Maybug, Miss Lady Bird, and a number of - others. Messrs. Gloworm and Firefly agreed to provide lamps as the - party was to be had at night. Mr. M., by a great deal of exertion, - got the provisions together in time, and Miss M. did the same with - the furniture, while Mrs. M. superintended generally, and was a - great bother. - - Water Bug & Co. conveyed everything to Shady Nook, and so at the - appointed time everything was ready, and the whole family, in their - best ball dresses, waited for the visitors. - - * * * * * - - The fisrt visitor to arrive was Lady Maybug. “Stupid old thing; - always first,” muttered Mrs. M., and then aloud, “How charming it - is to see you so prompt, Mrs. Maybug; I can always rely on _your_ - being here in time.” - - “Yes Ma’am, oh law! but it is so hot--oh law! and the carriage, oh - law! almost broke down; oh law! I did really think I never should - get here--oh law!” and Mrs. Maybug threw herself on the sofa; but - the sofa unfortunately had one weak leg, and as Mrs. Maybug was no - light weight, over she went. While Mrs. M. (inwardly swearing if - ever a mouse swore) hastened to her assistance, and in the midst of - the confusion caused by this accident, Tommy Cricket (who had been - hired for waiter and dressed in red trousers accordingly) threw - open the door and announced in a shrill pipe, “Nibble Squeak & Co., - Mum,” then hastily correcting himself, as he received a dagger - like glance from Mrs. M., “Mr. Nibble and Mr. Squeak, Ma’am,” and - precipitately retreated through the door. Meanwhile the unfortunate - Messrs. Nibble and Squeak, who while trying to look easy in their - new clothes, had luckily not heard the introduction, were doing - their best to bow gracefully to Miss Maybug and Miss Mouse, the - respective mamas of these young ladies having pushed them rapidly - forward as each of the ladies was trying to get up a match between - the rich Mr. Squeak and her daughter, although Miss M. preferred - Mr. Woodmouse and Miss Maybug, Mr. Hornet. In the next few minutes - the company came pouring in (among them Mr. Woodmouse, accompanying - Miss Katydid, at which sight Miss M. turned green with envy), and - after a very short period the party was called in to dinner, for - the cook had boiled the hickory nuts too long and they had to be - sent up immediately or they would be spoiled. Mrs. M. displayed - great generalship in the arrangement of the people, Mr. Squeak - taking in Miss M., Mr. Hornet, Miss Maybug, and Mr. Woodmouse, - Miss Katydid. But now Mr. M. had invited one person too many for - the plates, and so Mr. M. had to do without one. At first this was - not noticed, as each person was seeing who could get the most to - eat, with the exception of those who were love-making, but after - a while, Sir Lizard, (a great swell and a very high liver) turned - round and remarked, “Ee-aw, I say, Mr. M., why don’t you take - something more to eat?” “Mr. M. is not at all hungry tonight, are - you my dear?” put in Mrs. M. smiling at Sir Lizard, and frowning at - Mr. M. “Not at all, not at all,” replied the latter hastily. Sir - Lizard seemed disposed to continue the subject, but Mr. Moth, (a - very scientific gentleman) made a diversion by saying, “Have you - seen my work on ‘Various Antenae’? In it I demonstrated clearly the - superiority of feathered to knobbed Antenae and”--“Excuse me, Sir,” - interrupted Sir Butterfly, “but you surely don’t mean to say--” - - “Excuse _me_, if you please,” replied Mr. Moth sharply, “but I _do_ - mean it, and if you read my work, you will perceive that the rays - of feather-like particles on the trunk of the Antenae deriving from - the center in straight or curved lines generally”--at this moment - Mr. Moth luckily choked himself and seizing the lucky instant, Mrs. - M. rang for the desert. - - There was a sort of struggling noise in the pantry, but that was - the only answer. A second ring, no answer. A third ring; and - Mrs. M. rose in majestic wrath, and in dashed the unlucky Tommy - Cricket with the cheese, but alas, while half way in the room, the - beautiful new red trousers came down, and Tommy and cheese rolled - straight into Miss Dragon Fly who fainted without any unnecessary - delay, while the noise of Tommy’s howls made the room ring. There - was great confusion immediately, and while Tommy was being kicked - out of the room, and while Lord Beetle was emptying a bottle of - rare rosap over Miss Dragon Fly, in mistake for water, Mrs. M. gave - a glance at Mr. M., which made him quake in his shoes, and said - in a low voice, “Provoking thing! _now_ you see the good of no - suspenders”--“But my dear, you told me not to”--began Mr. M., but - was interrupted by Mrs. M. “Don’t speak to me, you--” but here Miss - Katydid’s little sister struck in on a sharp squeak. “Katy kissed - Mr. Woodmouse!” “Katy didn’t,” returned her brother. “Katy did,” - “Katy didn’t,” “Katy did,” “Katy didn’t.” All eyes were now turned - on the crimsoning Miss Katydid, but she was unexpectedly saved by - the lamps suddenly commencing to burn blue! - - “There, Mr. M.! Now you see what you have done!” said the lady of - the house, sternly. - - “My dear, I told you they could not get enough oil if you had the - party so early. It was your own fault,” said Mr. M. worked up to - desperation. - - Mrs. M. gave him a glance that would have annihilated three - millstones of moderate size, from its sharpness, and would have - followed the example of Miss Dragon Fly, but was anticipated by - Madame Maybug, who, as three of the lamps above her went out, - fell into blue convulsions on the sofa. As the whole room was now - subsiding into darkness, the company broke up and went off with - some abruptness and confusion, and when they were gone, Mrs. M. - turned (by the light of one bad lamp) an eagle eye on Mr. M. and - said--, but we will now draw a curtain over the harrowing scene - that ensued and say, - - “Good Bye.” - -“Teedie” not only indulged in the free play of fancy such as the -above, but wrote with extraordinary system and regularity for a boy -of fourteen to his mother and father, and perhaps these letters, -written in the far-away Dresden atmosphere, show more conclusively -than almost any others the character, the awakening mind, the forceful -mentality of the young and delicate boy. On May 29, in a letter to -his mother, a very parental letter about his homesick little sister -who had not yet been taken from the elderly family in which she was -so unhappy, he drops into a lighter vein and says: “I have overheard -a good deal of Minckwitz conversation which they did not think I -understood; Father was considered ‘very pretty’ (_sehr hübsch_) and -his German ‘exceedingly beautiful,’ neither of which statements I -quite agree with.” And a week or two later, writing to his father, -he describes, after referring casually to a bad attack of asthma, an -afternoon of tag and climbing trees, supper out in the open air, and -long walks through the green fields dotted with the blue cornflowers -and brilliant red poppies. True to his individual tastes, he says: -“When I am not studying my lessons or out walking I spend all my time -in translating natural history, wrestling with Richard, a young -cousin of the Minckwitz’ whom I can throw as often as he throws me, -and I also sometimes cook, although my efforts in the culinary art are -really confined to grinding coffee, beating eggs or making hash, and -such light labors.” Later he writes again: “The boxing gloves are a -source of great amusement; you ought to have seen us after our ‘rounds’ -yesterday.” The foregoing “rounds” were described even more graphically -by “Ellie” in a letter to our uncle, Mr. Gracie, as follows: “Father, -you know, sent us a pair of boxing gloves apiece and Teedie, Johnnie, -and I have had jolly fun with them. Last night in a round of one minute -and a half with Teedie, he got a bloody nose and I got a bloody mouth, -and in a round with Johnnie, I got a bloody mouth again and he a pair -of purple eyes. Then Johnnie gave Teedie another bloody nose. [The boys -by this time seemed to have multiplied their features indefinitely with -more purple eyes!] We do enjoy them so! Boxing is one of Teedie’s and -my favorite amusements; it is such a novelty to be made to see stars -when it is not night.” No wonder that later “Ellie” contributed what I -called in one of my later letters a “tragical” article called “Bloody -Hand” for the D. L. A. C., perhaps engendered by the memory of all -those bloody mouths and noses! - -“Teedie” himself, in writing to his Aunt Annie, describes himself as a -“bully boy with a black eye,” and in the same letter, which seems to be -in answer to one in which this devoted aunt had described an unusual -specimen to interest him, he says: - -“Dear darling little Nancy: I have received your letter concerning the -wonderful animal and although the fact of your having described it as -having horns and being carnivorous has occasioned me grave doubts as to -your veracity, yet I think in course of time a meeting may be called by -the Roosevelt Museum and the matter taken into consideration, although -this will not happen until after we have reached America. The Minckwitz -family are all splendid but very superstitious. My scientific pursuits -cause the family a good deal of consternation. - -“My arsenic was confiscated and my mice thrown (with the tongs) out of -the window. In cases like this I would approach a refractory female, -mouse in hand, corner her, and bang the mouse very near her face until -she was thoroughly convinced of the wickedness of her actions. Here is -a view of such a scene. - -[Illustration] - -I am getting along very well with German and studying really hard. Your -loving T. R., Secretary and Librarian of Roosevelt Museum. (Shall I -soon hail you as a brother, I mean sister member of the Museum?)” - -Evidently the carnivorous animal with horns was a stepping-stone to -membership in the exclusive Roosevelt Museum! - -The Dresden memories include many happy excursions, happy in spite of -the fact that they were sometimes taken because of poor “Teedie’s” -severe attacks of asthma. On June 29th he writes his father: “I have -a conglomerate of good news and bad news to report to you; the former -far outweighs the latter, however. I am at present suffering from a -slight attack of asthma. However, it is only a small attack and except -for the fact that I cannot speak without blowing like an abridged -hippopotamus, it does not inconvenience me very much. We are now -studying hard and everything is systematized. Excuse my writing, the -asthma has made my hand tremble awfully.” The asthma of which he makes -so light became unbearable, and the next letter, on June 30 from the -Bastei in Saxon Switzerland, says: “You will doubtless be surprised at -the heading of this letter, but as the asthma did not get any better, -I concluded to come out here. Elliott and Corinne and Fräulein Anna -and Fräulein Emma came with me for the excursion. We started in the -train and then got out at a place some distance below these rocks where -we children took horses and came up here, the two ladies following -on foot. The scenery on the way and all about here was exceedingly -bold and beautiful. All the mountains, if they deserve the name of -mountains, have scarcely any gradual decline. They descend abruptly and -precipitously to the plain. In fact, the sides of the mountains in most -parts are bare while the tops are covered with pine forests with here -and there jagged conical peaks rising from the foliage. There are no -long ranges, simply a number of sharp high hills rising from a green -fertile plain through which the river Elbe wanders. You can judge from -this that the scenery is really magnificent. I have been walking in -the forests collecting butterflies. I could not but be struck with the -difference between the animal life of these forests and the palm groves -of Egypt, (auld lang syne now). Although this is in one of the wildest -parts of Saxony and South Germany, yet I do not think the proportion -is as much as one here for twenty there or around Jericho, and the -difference in proportion of species is even greater,--still the woods -are by no means totally devoid of inhabitants. Most of these I had -become acquainted with in Syria, and a few in Egypt. The only birds I -had not seen before were a jay and a bullfinch.” - -The above letter shows how true the boy was to his marked tastes and -his close observation of nature and natural history! - -After his return from the Bastei my brother’s asthma was somewhat -less troublesome, and, to show the vital quality which could never be -downed, I quote a letter from “Ellie” to his aunt: “Suddenly an idea -has got hold of Teedie that we did not know enough German for the time -that we have been here, so he has asked Miss Anna to give him larger -lessons and of course I could not be left behind so we are working -harder than ever in our lives.” How unusual the evidence of leadership -is in this young boy of not yet fifteen, who already inspires his -pleasure-loving little brother to work “harder than ever before in -our lives.” Many memories crowd back upon me as I think of those days -in the kind German family. The two sons, Herr Oswald and Herr Ulrich, -would occasionally return from Leipsig where they were students, and -always brought with them an aroma of duels and thrilling excitement. -Ulrich, in college, went by the nickname of “Der Rothe Herzog,” The -Red Duke, the appellation being applied to him on account of his -scarlet hair, his equally rubicund face, and a red gash down the left -side of his face from the sword of an antagonist. Oswald had a very -extraordinary expression due to the fact that the tip end of his nose -had been nearly severed from his face in one of these same, apparently, -every-day affairs, and the physician who had restored the injured -feature to its proper environment had made the mistake of sewing it a -little on the bias, which gave this kind and gentle young man a very -sinister expression. In spite of their practice in the art of duelling -and a general ferocity of appearance, they were sentimental to the -last extent, and many a time when I have been asked by Herr Oswald and -Herr Ulrich to read aloud to them from the dear old books “Gold Elsie” -or “Old Mam’selle’s Secret,” they would fall upon the sofa beside me -and dissolve in tears over any melancholy or romantic situation. Their -sensibilities and sentimentalities were perfectly incomprehensible to -the somewhat matter-of-fact and distinctly courageous trio of young -Americans, and while we could not understand the spirit which made them -willing, quite casually, to cut off each other’s noses, we could even -less understand their lachrymose response to sentimental tales and -their genuine terror should a thunder-storm occur. “Ellie” describes in -another letter how all the family, in the middle of the night, because -of a sudden thunder-storm, crawled in between their mattresses and woke -the irrelevant and uninterested small Americans from their slumbers -to incite them to the same attitude of mind and body. His description -of “Teedie” under these circumstances is very amusing, for he says: -“Teedie woke up only for one minute, turned over and said, ‘Oh--it’s -raining and my hedgehog will be all spoiled.’” He was speaking of a -hedgehog that he had skinned the day before and hung out of his window, -but even his hedgehog did not keep him awake and, much to the surprise -of the frightened Minckwitz family, he fell back into a heavy sleep. - -In spite of the sentimentalities, in spite of the racial differences -of attitude about many things, the American children owe much to -the literary atmosphere that surrounded the family life of their -kind German friends. In those days in Dresden the most beautiful -representations of Shakespeare were given in German, and, as the hour -for the theatre to begin was six o’clock in the evening, and the plays -were finished by nine o’clock, many were the evenings when we enjoyed -“Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “Twelfth Night,” “The Taming of the Shrew,” -and many more of Shakespeare’s wonderful fanciful creations, given as -they were with unusual sympathy and ability by the actors of the German -Theatre. - -Perhaps because of our literary studies and our ever-growing interest -in our own efforts in the famous Dresden Literary American Club, we -decided that the volume which became so precious to us should, after -all, have no commercial value, and in July I write to my aunt the news -which I evidently feel will be a serious blow to her--that we have -decided that we cannot sell the poems and stories gathered into that -immortal volume! - -About the middle of the summer there was an epidemic of smallpox in -Dresden and my mother hurriedly took us to the Engadine, and there, at -Samaden, we lived somewhat the life of our beloved Madison and Hudson -River days. Our cousin John Elliott accompanied us, and the three boys -and their ardent little follower, myself, spent endless happy hours in -climbing the surrounding mountains, only occasionally recalled by the -lenient “Fräulein Anna” to what were already almost forgotten Teutonic -studies. Later we returned to Dresden, and in spite of the longing in -our patriotic young hearts to be once more in the land of the Stars and -Stripes, I remember that we all parted with keen regret from the kind -family who had made their little American visitors so much at home. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT’S LETTER OF SEPTEMBER -21, 1873, TO HIS OLDER SISTER] - -A couple of letters from Theodore, dated September 21 and October 5, -bring to a close the experiences in Dresden, and show in a special way -the boy’s humor and the original inclination to the quaint drawings -which have become familiar to the American people through the -book, lately published, called “Theodore Roosevelt’s Letters to His -Children.” On September 21, 1873, he writes to his older sister: “My -dear darling Bamie,--I wrote a letter on the receipt of yours, but -Corinne lost it and so I write this. Health; good. Lessons; good. Play -hours; bad. Appetite; good. Accounts; good. Clothes; greasy. Shoes; -holey. Hair; more ‘a-la-Mop’ than ever. Nails; dirty, in consequence -of having an ink bottle upset over them. Library; beautiful. Museum; -so so. Club; splendid. Our journey home from Samaden was beautiful, -except for the fact that we lost our keys but even this incident was -not without its pleasing side. I reasoned philosophically on the -subject; I said: ‘Well, everything is for the best. For example, if -I cannot use my tooth brush tonight, at least, I cannot forget it -to-morrow morning. Ditto with comb and night shirt.’ In these efforts -of high art, I have taken particular care to imitate truthfully the -Chignons, bustles, grease-spots, bristles, and especially my own mop -of hair. The other day I much horrified the female portion of the -Minckwitz Tribe by bringing home a dead bat. I strongly suspect that -they thought I intended to use it as some sorcerer’s charm to injure a -foe’s constitution, mind and appetite. As I have no more news to write, -I will close with some illustrations on the Darwinian theory. Your -brother--Teedie.” - -The last letter, on October 5, was to his mother, and reads in part as -follows: “Corinne has been sick but is now well, at least, she does not -have the same striking resemblance to a half-starved raccoon as she -did in the severe stages of the disease.” After a humorous description -of a German conversation between several members of his aunt’s family, -he proceeds to “further illustrations of the Darwinian theory” and -closes his letter by signing himself “Your affectionate son, Cranibus -Giraffinus.” - -[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF “SOME ILLUSTRATIONS ON THE DARWINIAN -THEORY,” CONTAINED IN THE LETTER OF SEPTEMBER 21, 1873] - -Shortly before leaving Dresden I had my twelfth birthday and the -Minckwitz clan made every effort to make it a gay festival, but perhaps -the gift which I loved best was a letter received that very morning -from my beloved father; and in closing this brief account of those -days spent in Germany, because of his wise decision to broaden our -young horizons by new thoughts and new studies, I wish once more, as I -have done several times in these pages, to quote from his words to the -little girl in whom he was trying to instil his own beautiful attitude -toward life: “Remember that almost every one will be kind to you and -will love you if you are only willing to receive their love and are -unselfish yourself. Unselfishness, you know, is the virtue that I put -above all others, and while it increases so much the enjoyment of those -about you, it adds infinitely more to your own pleasure. Your future, -in fact, depends very much upon the cultivation of unselfishness, and -I know that my darling little girl wishes to practise this quality, -but I do wish to impress upon you its importance. As each year passes -by, we ought to look back to see what we have accomplished, and also -look forward to the future to make up for any deficiencies showing thus -a determination to do better, not wasting time in vain regrets.” In -many ways these words of my father, written when we were so young and -so malleable, and impressed upon us by his ever-encouraging example, -became one of the great factors in making my brother into the type of -man who will always be remembered for that unselfishness instilled into -him by his father, and for the determination to do better each day of -his life without vain regret for what was already beyond recall. - -[Illustration: FACSIMILE, ON THIS AND OPPOSITE PAGE, OF “FURTHER -ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE DARWINIAN THEORY,” IN HIS LETTER OF OCTOBER 5] - -[Illustration] - - -OYSTER BAY--THE HAPPY LAND OF WOODS AND WATERS - -After our return to America the winter of 1874 was passed at our -new home at 6 West 57th Street. My brother was still considered -too delicate to send to a boarding-school, and various tutors were -engaged for his education, in which my brother Elliott and I shared. -Friendships of various kinds were begun and augmented, especially the -friendship with the little girl Edith Carow, our babyhood friend, and -another little girl, Frances Theodora Smith, now Mrs. James Russell -Parsons, to whose friendship and comprehension my brother always -turned with affectionate appreciation. Inspired by the Dresden Literary -American Club, the female members of our little coterie formed a circle -known by the name of P. O. R. E., to which the “boys” were admitted on -rare occasions. The P. O. R. E. had also literary ambitions, and they -proved a fit sequel to the eruditionary D. L. A. C., which originated -in the German family! Mr. J. Coleman Drayton, Mr. Charles B. Alexander, -and my father were the only honorary members of the P. O. R. E. - -The summer of 1874 proved to be the forerunner of the happiest summers -of our lives, as my father decided to join the colony which had been -started by his family at Oyster Bay, Long Island, and we rented a -country place which, much to the amusement of our friends, we named -“Tranquillity.” Anything less tranquil than that happy home at Oyster -Bay could hardly be imagined. Endless young cousins and friends of -both sexes and of every kind of varied interest always filled the -simple rooms and shared the delightful and unconventional life which -we led in that enchanted spot. Again I cannot say too much of the -way in which our parents allowed us liberty without license. During -those years--when Theodore was fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen--every -special delight seems connected with Oyster Bay. We took long rides on -horseback through the lanes then so seemingly remote, so far from the -thought of the broad highways which now are traversed by thousands of -motors, but were then the scenes of picnics and every imaginable spree. -Our parents encouraged all mental and physical activity and having, -as I say, a large circle of young cousins settled around us, we were -never at a loss for companionship. One of our greatest delights was -to take the small rowboats with which we were provided and row away -for long days of happy leisure to what then seemed a somewhat distant -spot on the other side of the bay, called Yellow Banks, where we -would have our picnic lunch and climb Cooper’s Bluff, and read aloud -or indulge in poetry contests and games which afforded us infinite -amusement. One of our favorite games was called Crambo. We each wrote -a question and each wrote a word, then all the words were put into one -hat and all the questions into another, and after each child had drawn -a question and a word, he or she was obliged to answer the question -and bring in the word in a verse. Amongst my papers I find some of -the old poetic efforts of those happy summer days. One is dated Plum -Point, Oyster Bay, 1875. I remember the day as if it were yesterday; -Theodore, who loved to row in the hottest sun, over the roughest water, -in the smallest boat, had chosen his friend Edith as a companion; my -cousin West Roosevelt, the “Jimmie” of earlier childhood, whose love -of science and natural history was one of the joys that Theodore found -in his companionship, took as his companion my friend Fannie Smith, -now Mrs. Parsons, and my brother Elliott and I made up the happy six. -Lying on the soft sand of the Point after a jolly luncheon, we played -our favorite game, and Theodore drew the question: “Why does West enjoy -such a dirty picnic?” The word which he drew was “golosh,” and written -on the other side of the paper in his own boyish handwriting is his -attempt to assimilate the query and the word! - - “Because it is his nature to, - He finds _his_ idyl in the dirt, - And if you do not sympathize - But find _yours_ in some saucy flirt, - Why that is your affair you know, - It’s like the choosing a (?) golosh, - _You_ doat upon a pretty face, - _He_ takes to carrots and hogwash.” - -Perhaps this sample of early verse may have led him later into _other_ -paths than poetry! - -[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF VERSES BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT FOR A FAVORITE -GAME] - -We did not always indulge in anything as light and humorous as the -above example of poetic fervor. I have in my possession all kinds of -competitive essays--on William Wordsworth, Washington Irving, and -Plutarch’s “Lives,” written by various members of the happy group of -young people at Oyster Bay; but when not indulging in these literary -efforts “Teedie” was always studying his beloved natural history. At -that time in his life he became more and more determined to take up -this study as an actual career. My father had many serious talks with -him on the subject. He impressed the boy with the feeling that, if -he should thus decide upon a career which of necessity could not be -lucrative, it would mean the sacrifice of many of the pleasures of -which our parents’ environment had enabled us to partake. My father, -however, also told the earnest young naturalist that he would provide -a small income for him, enabling him to live simply, should he decide -to give himself up to scientific research work as the object of his -life. During all those summers at Oyster Bay and the winters in New -York City, before going to college, “Teedie” worked along the line -of his chief interest with a very definite determination to devote -himself permanently to that type of study. Our parents realized fully -the unusual quality of their son, they recognized the strength and -power of his character, the focussed and reasoning superiority of his -mentality, but I do not think they fully realized the extraordinary -quality of leadership which, hitherto somewhat hampered by his ill -health, was later to prove so great a factor, not only in the circle of -his immediate family and friends but in the broader field of the whole -country. He was growing stronger day by day; already he had learned -from those fine lumbermen, “Will Dow” and “Bill Sewall,” who were his -guides on long hunting trips in the Maine woods, how to endure hardship -and how to use his rifle as an adept and his paddle as an expert. - -His body, answering to the insistence of his character, was growing -stronger day by day, and was soon to be an instrument of iron to use in -the future years. - -Mr. Arthur Cutler was engaged by my parents to be at Oyster Bay during -these summers to superintend the studies of the two boys, and with his -able assistance my brother was well prepared for Harvard College, which -he entered in September, 1876. It seems almost incredible that the -puny, delicate child, so suffering even three years before, could have -started his college life the peer, from a physical standpoint, of any -of his classmates. A light-weight boxer, a swift runner, and in every -way fitted to take his place, physically as well as mentally, in the -arena of college life, he entered Harvard College. - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt, Oyster Bay, September 21, 1875.] - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt, December, 1876, aged eighteen.] - -In looking back over our early childhood there stands out clearly -before me, as the most important asset of the atmosphere of our home, -the joy of life, combined with an earnest effort for spiritual and -intellectual benefit. As I write I can hear my father’s voice calling -us to early “Morning Prayers” which it was his invariable custom to -read just before breakfast. Even this religious service was entered -into with the same joyous zest which my father had the power of putting -into every act of his life, and he had imbued us with the feeling -that it was a privilege rather than a duty to be present, and that -also the place of honor while we listened to the reading of the Bible -was the seat on the sofa between him and the end of the sofa. When we -were little children in the nursery, as he called to us to come to -prayers, there would be a universal shout of “I speak for you and the -cubby-hole too,” the “cubby-hole” being this much-desired seat; and as -my brother grew to man’s estate these happy and yet serious memories -were so much a part of him that when the boy of eighteen left Oyster -Bay that September afternoon in 1876, to take up the new life which the -entrance into college always means for a young man, he took with him as -the heritage of his boyhood not only keen joy in the panorama of life -which now unrolled before him but the sense of duty to be performed, of -opportunity to be seized, of high resolve to be squared with practical -and effective action, all of which had been part of the teaching of his -father, the first Theodore Roosevelt. - - - - -IV - -COLLEGE CHUMS AND NEW-FOUND LEADERSHIP - - -During the winter and summer of 1876, preceding that September when -Theodore Roosevelt left his home for Harvard College, he had entered -more fully into the social life of the boys and girls of his immediate -acquaintance. As a very young boy, there was something of the recluse -about him, although in his actual family (and that family included a -number of cousins) he was always the ringleader. His delicate health -and his almost abnormal literary and scientific tastes had isolated -him somewhat from the hurly-burly of ordinary school life, and even -ordinary vacation life; but during the winter of 1876 he had enjoyed -to the full a dancing-class which my mother had organized the winter -before, and that dancing-class sowed the seeds of many friendships. -The Livingston, Clarkson, Potter, and Rutherfurd boys, and amongst the -girls my friends Edith Carow, Grace Potter, Fannie Smith, Annie Murray, -and myself, formed the nucleus in this dancing-class, and the informal -“Germans” (as they were called in those days) and all the merriment -connected with happy skating-parties and spring picnics in Central Park -cemented relationships which lasted faithfully through later days. My -brother Elliott, more naturally a _social_ leader, influenced the young -naturalist to greater interest in his _humankind_, and when the spring -merged into happy summer at Oyster Bay, Theodore was already showing a -keener pleasure in intercourse with young people of his own age. - -In a letter to “Edith” early in the summer, I write of an expedition -which he took across the bay to visit another girl friend. He started -at five o’clock in the morning and reached the other shore at eight -o’clock. Thinking it too early to pay a call, he lay down on a large -rock and went to sleep, waking up to find his boat had drifted far -away. When he put on his spectacles he could see the boat at a -distance, but, of course, did not wish to swim with his clothes on, -and decided to remove them temporarily. Having secured the boat, he -forgot that it might be wise to put on his clothes before sleeping -again under the dock. To his perfect horror, waking suddenly about an -hour later, the boat, clothes, and all had vanished. At the same moment -he heard the footsteps of his fair inamorata on the wooden planks of -the dock above his head. She had walked down with a friend to greet -the admirer whom she expected at about nine o’clock. His description -of his feelings as he lay shivering, though not from cold, while above -him they calmly discussed his probable arrival and the fact that they -thought they would wait there to greet him, can probably be imagined. -The girls, after a period of long waiting, walked away into the woods, -and the self-conscious young man proceeded to swim down a hidden creek -where he thought the tide had taken his recalcitrant boat, and where, -sure enough, he found it. The sequel to this little story throws much -light on masculine human nature, for he conceived an aversion to the -lady who so unconsciously had put him in this foolish position, and -rowed defiantly back to Oyster Bay without paying the proposed visit! - -During that summer my father, who always gave his children such -delightful surprises, drilled us himself in a little play called “To -Oblige Benson,” in which Theodore took the part of an irascible and -absent-minded farmer, and our beloved cousin John Elliott the part -of an impassioned lover, while my friend Fannie Smith and I were the -heroines of the adventures. My father’s efforts to make Theodore into -a farmer and John into a lover were commendable though not eminently -successful, but all that he did for us in those ways gave to his -children a certain ease in writing and speaking which were to be of -great value in later years. Fannie Smith, to show how Theodore still -dominated the little circle from the standpoint of intellect, writes -that same July: “I have no power to write sensibly today. If I were -writing to Theodore I would have to say something of this kind, ‘I -have enjoyed Plutarch’s last essay on the philosophy of Diogenes -excessively.’” In his early college days, however, he seems temporarily -to put the “philosophy of Diogenes” aside, and to become a very normal, -simple, pleasure-loving youth, who, however, always retained his -earnest moral purpose and his realization that education was a tool for -future experience, and, therefore, not to be neglected. - -He writes on November 26, 1876: “I now belong to another whist club, -composed of Harry Minot, Dick Saltonstall and a few others. They are -very quiet fellows but also very pleasant. Harry Minot was speaking -to me the other day about our making a collecting trip in the White -Mountains together next summer. I think it would be good fun.” The -result of that collecting trip will be shown a little later in this -chapter. On December 14 he writes again: “Darling Pussie [his pet -name for me]: I ought to have written you long ago but I am now -having examinations all the time, and am so occupied in studying for -them that I have very little time for myself, and you know how long -it takes me to write a letter. My only excitement lately has been -the dancing class which is very pleasant. I may as well describe a -few of my chief friends.” He then gives an account of his specially -intimate companions, and speaks as follows of one whose name has become -prominent in the annals of his country’s history as able financier, -secretary of state, and colonel in the American Expeditionary -Force--Robert Bacon: “Bob Bacon is the handsomest man in the class -and is as pleasant as he is handsome. He is only sixteen, but is very -large.” He continues to say that he would love to bring home a few -of his friends at Christmas time, and concludes: “I should like a -party very much if it is _perfectly_ convenient.” The party proved a -delightful Christmas experience, and the New York girls and Boston boys -fraternized to their hearts’ content. On his return to Cambridge after -these Christmas holidays he writes one of his amusing, characteristic -little notes, interspersed with quaint drawings. “Darling Pussie: I -delivered your two notes safely and had a very pleasant journey on in -the cars. To drown my grief at parting from you all, I took refuge, -not in the flowing bowl, but in the _Atlantic Monthly_ and _Harper’s -Magazine_--not to mention squab sandwiches. A journey in the cars -always renders me sufficiently degraded to enjoy even the love stories -in the latter magazine. I think that if I was forced to travel across -the continent, towards the end of my journey, I should read dime novels -with avidity. Good-bye darling. Your loving Tedo.” - -The signature was followed by accurate representations of _Harper’s -Magazine_, _Atlantic Monthly_, and the squab sandwich, which he labels -“my three consolations”! - -A letter dated February 5, 1877, shows the Boston of those days in -a very pleasant light. He begins: “Little Pussie: I have had a very -pleasant time this week as, in fact, I have every week. It was cram -week for ‘Conic Sections’ but, by using most of my days for study, I -had two evenings, besides Saturday, free. On Wednesday evening, Harry -Jackson gave a large sleighing party; this was great fun for there -were forty girls and fellows and two matrons in two huge sleighs. We -sang songs for a great part of the time for we soon left Boston and -were dragged by our eight horses rapidly through a great many of the -pretty little towns which form the suburbs of Boston. One of the girls -looked quite like Edith only not nearly as pretty as her ladyship. We -came home from our sleigh ride about nine and then danced until after -twelve. I led the German with Harry Jackson’s cousin, Miss Andrews. -After the party, Bob Bacon, Arthur Hooper, myself and some others, -came out in a small sleigh to Cambridge, making night hideous with our -songs. On Saturday I went with Minot Weld to an Assembly (a juvenile -one I mean) at Brookline. This was a very swell affair, there being -about sixty couples in the room. I enjoyed myself very much indeed.... -I came home today in time for my Sunday-school class; I am beginning -to get very much interested in my scholars, especially in one who is a -very orderly and bright little fellow--two qualities which I have not -usually found combined. Thank Father for his dear letter. Your loving -brother, Ted.” - -The above letter shows how normal a life the young man was leading, -how simply and naturally he was responding to the friendly hospitality -of his new Boston friends. Boston had welcomed him originally for the -sake of his older sister, who, during two charming summer visits to Bar -Harbor, Maine, had made many New England friends. The Sunday-school -which he mentions, and to which he gave himself very faithfully, proved -a big test of character, for it was a great temptation to go with the -other fellows on Saturday afternoons to Chestnut Hill or Brookline -or Milton, where open house was kept by the Lees, Saltonstalls, -Whitneys, and other friends, and it was very hard either to refuse -their invitation from the beginning or to leave the merry parties early -Sunday morning and return to Cambridge to be at his post to teach the -unruly little people of the slums of Cambridge. So deeply, however, had -the first Theodore Roosevelt impressed his son with the necessity of -giving himself and the attainments with which his superior advantages -had endowed him to those less fortunate than he, that all through the -first three years of his college life he only failed to appear at his -Sunday-school class twice, and then he arranged to have his class taken -by a friend. Truly, when _he_ put his hand to the plough he never -turned back. - -On March 27 of his first year at college he writes again in his usual -sweet way to his younger sister: “Little Pet Pussie: 95 per cent _will_ -help my average. I want to pet you again awfully! You cunning, pretty, -little, foolish Puss. My easy chair would just hold myself and Pussie.” -Again on April 15: “Little Pussie: Having given Motherling an account -of my doings up to yesterday, I have reserved the more frivolous part -for little pet Pussie. Yesterday, in the afternoon, Minot Weld drove -me over to his house and at six o’clock we sallied forth in festive -attire to a matinée ‘German’ at Dorchester which broke up before -eleven o’clock. This was quite a swell affair, there being about 100 -couples.... I spent last night with the Welds and walked back over here -to Forest Hill with Minot in the afternoon, collecting a dozen snakes -and salamanders on the way.” Still the natural historian, even although -on pleasure bent; so snakes and salamanders hold their own in spite of -“swell matinée Germans.” From Forest Hill that same Sunday he writes -a more serious letter to his father: “Darling Father: I am spending -my Easter vacation with the Minots, who, with their usual kindness, -asked me to do so. I did not go home for I knew I should never be able -to study there. I have been working pretty steadily, having finished -during the last five days, the first book of Horace, the sixth book of -Homer, and the ‘Apology of Socrates.’ In the afternoon, some of the -boys usually come out to see me and we spend that time in the open air, -and on Saturday evening I went to a party, but during the rest of the -time I have been working pretty faithfully. I spent today, Sunday, with -the Welds and went to their church where, although it was a Unitarian -Church, I heard a really remarkably good sermon about ‘The Attributes -of a Christian.’ I have enjoyed all your letters very much and my -conscience reproaches me greatly for not writing you before, but as you -may imagine, I have had to study pretty hard to make up for lost time, -and a letter with me is very serious work. Your loving son, T. R. Jr.” - -On June 3, as his class day approaches, and after a visit to Cambridge -on the part of my father, who had given me and my sister and friends -Edith Carow and Maud Elliott the treat of accompanying him, Theodore -writes: “Sweet Pussie: I enjoyed your visit so much and so did all of -my friends. I am so glad you like my room, and next year I hope to have -it even prettier when you all come on again.” His first class day was -not specially notable, but he finished his freshman year standing high -in his class and having made a number of good friends, although at that -period I do not think that he was in any marked degree a leader amongst -the young men of the class. He was regarded more as an all-round good -sport, a fellow of high ideals from which he never swerved, and one -at whom his companions, who, except Harry Minot, had not very strong -literary affiliations, were always more or less surprised because of -the way in which their otherwise perfectly normal comrade sank into -complete oblivion when the magic pages of a book were unrolled before -him. - -That summer, shortly after class day, he and Harry Minot took their -expedition to the Adirondacks with the following results, namely: -a catalogue written in the mountains of “The Summer Birds of the -Adirondacks in Franklin County, N. Y., by Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., and -H. D. Minot.” This catalogue was sent to me by Mr. John D. Sherman, -Jr., of Mt. Vernon, N. Y. He tells me that it was originally published -in 1877 and favorably mentioned soon after publication in the _Nuttall -Bulletin_. Mr. Sherman thinks that the paper was “privately” published, -and it was printed by Samuel E. Casino, of Salem, who, when a mere -boy, started in the natural-history-book business. The catalogue shows -such careful observation and such perseverance in the accumulation of -data by the two young college boys that I think the first page worthy -of reproduction as one of the early evidences of the careful study -Theodore Roosevelt had given to the subject which always remained -throughout his life one of the nearest to his heart. - -[Facsimile: THE SUMMER BIRDS - -OF THE ADIRONDACKS IN FRANKLIN COUNTY, N. Y. - -BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT, JR., AND H. D. MINOT - -The following catalogue (written in the mountains) is based upon -observations made in August, 1874, August, 1875, and June 22d to July -9th, 1877, especially about the Saint Regis Lakes, Mr. Minot having -been with me, only during the last week of June. Each of us has used -his initials in making a statement which the other has not verified. - - THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Jr. - -The general features of the Adirondacks, in those parts which we have -examined, are the many lakes, the absence of _mountain_-brooks, the -luxuriant forest-growth (the taller deciduous trees often reaching -the height of a hundred feet, and the White Pines even that of a -hundred and thirty), the sandy soil, the cool, invigorating air, and -both a decided wildness and levelness of country as compared with the -diversity of the White Mountain region. - -The _avifauna_ is not so rich as that of the latter country, because -wanting in certain “Alleghanian” birds found there, and also in species -belonging especially to the Eastern or North-eastern Canadian fauna. -Nests, moreover, seem to be more commonly inaccessible, and rarely -built beside roads or wood-paths, as they often are in the White -Mountains. M. - - =1. Robin.= _Turdus migratorius_ (Linnæus). Moderately common. - Sometimes found in the woods. - - =2. Hermit Thrush.= _Turdus Pallasi_ (Cabanis). Common. Sings until - the middle of August (R.). - - =3. Swainson’s Thrush.= _Turdus Swainsoni_ (Cabanis). The commonest - thrush. - - =4. Cat-bird.= _Mimus Carolinensis_ (Linnæus). Observed beyond the - mountains to the northward, near Malone. - - =5. Blue Bird.= _Sialia sialis_ (Linnæus). Common near Malone. - - =6. Golden-crowned “Wren.”= _Regulus satrapa_ (Lichten.). Quite - common; often heard singing in June. - - =7. Chickadee.= _Parus atricapillus_ (Linnæus). Rather scarce in - June. Abundant in August (R.). - - =8. Hudsonian Chickadee.= _Parus Hudsonicus_ (Forster). Found in - small flocks at Bay Pond in the early part of August (R.). - - =9. Red-bellied Nuthatch.= _Sitta Canadensis_ (Linnæus). Common. - The White-bellied Nuthatch has not been observed here by us. - - =10. Brown Creeper.= _Certhia familiaris_ (Linnæus). Common. - - =11. Winter Wren.= _Troglodytes hyemalis_ (Vieillot). Moderately - common. - -FACSIMILE OF THE FIRST PAGE OF THE “CATALOGUE OF SUMMER BIRDS,” MADE IN -1877 BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT, JR., AND H. D. MINOT] - -His love of poetry in those days became a very living thing, and -the summer following his first college year was one in which the -young people of Oyster Bay turned with glad interest to the riches -not only of nature but of literature as well. I find among my -papers, painstakingly copied in red ink in my brother’s handwriting, -Swinburne’s poem “The Forsaken Garden.” He had sent it to me, copying -it from memory when on a trip to the Maine woods. Later, on his -return, we would row by moonlight to “Cooper’s Bluff” (near which spot -he was eventually to build his beloved home, Sagamore Hill), and there, -having climbed the sandy bulwark, we would sit on the top of the ledge -looking out on the shimmering waters of the Sound, and he would recite -with a lilting swing in the tone of his voice which matched the rhythm -of the words: - - “In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, - By the sea down’s edge, twixt windward and lee, - Walled round by rocks like an inland island, - The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. - A girdle of brush-wood and thorn encloses - The steep-scarred slope of the blossomless bed, - Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses-- - Now lie dead.” - -He always loved the rhythm of Swinburne, just as he loved later the -wonderful ringing lines of Kipling, which he taught to his children and -constantly repeated to himself. - -In the summer of 1877 the two brothers, Elliott and Theodore, decided -to row from Oyster Bay in their small boats to Whitestone, near -Flushing, where my aunt Mrs. Gracie was living in an old farmhouse. -Elliott was really the sailor of the family, an expert sailor, too, -and loved to manage his 20-footer, with able hand, in the stormiest -weather, but Theodore craved the actual effort of the arms and back, -the actual sense of meeting the wave close to and not from the more -sheltered angle of a sailboat; and so the two young brothers who were -perfectly devoted to each other started on the more adventurous trip -together. They were caught in one of the sudden storms of the Long -Island Sound, and their frail boats were very nearly swamped, but the -luck which later became with Theodore Roosevelt almost proverbial, -was with them, and the two exhausted and bedraggled, wave-beaten boys -arrived sorely in need of the care of the devoted aunt who, as much -as in the days when she taught their A B C’s to the children of the -nursery of 20th Street, was still their guardian angel. - -In September, 1877, Theodore returns as a sophomore to Cambridge -and writes in October again: “Sweet Pussie: Thank you ever so much, -darling, for the three, cunning, little books which I am going to -call my ‘Pussie Books.’ They were just what I wanted. In answer to -your question, I may say that it does not seem to make the slightest -difference to Brooks and Hooper that they have been dropped, although -Brooks is universally called ‘Freshie.’ My respect for the qualities -of my classmates has much increased lately, by the way, as they now -no longer seem to think it necessary to confine their conversation -exclusively to athletic subjects. I was especially struck by this -the other night, when, after a couple of hours spent in boxing and -wrestling with Arthur Hooper and Ralph Ellis, it was proposed to finish -the evening by reading aloud from Tennyson and we became so interested -in ‘In Memoriam’ that it was past one o’clock when we separated.” -(Evidently the lover of books was beginning to be a leader in making -his associates share his love of the poets.) - -In November he writes again: “I sat up last night until twelve, -reading ‘Poems & Poets’; some of the boys came down to my room and we -had a literary coffee party. They became finally interested in Edgar -Poe--probably because they could not understand him.” My brother always -had a great admiration for Edgar Allan Poe, and would chant “The -Raven” and “Ulalume” in a strange, rather weird, monotonous tone. He -especially delighted in the reference to “the Dank Tarn of Auber” and -the following lines: - - “I knew not the month was October, - I knew not the day of the year,--” - -Poe’s rhythm and curious, suggestive, melancholy quality of perfection -affected strongly his imagination, and he placed him high in rank -amongst the poets of his time. - -One can picture the young men, strong and vigorous, wrestling and -boxing together in Theodore Roosevelt’s room, and then putting aside -their athletic contests, making their coffee with gay nonchalance, and -settling down to a night of poetry, led in the paths of literature by -the blue-eyed young “Berserker,” as my mother used to call Theodore in -those college days. - -During the summer of 1877 my father accompanied my sister Anna to Bar -Harbor on one of her annual excursions to that picturesque part of -the Maine coast, where they visited Mr. George Minot and his sisters. -He writes to my mother in his usual vein of delightful interest in -people, books, and nature, and seems more vigorous than ever, for he -describes wonderful walks over the mountains and speaks of having -achieved a reputation as a mountain-climber. How little any of the -family who adored him realized that from a strain engendered by that -climbing the seed of serious trouble had been sown in that splendid -mechanism, and that in a few short months the vigorous and still young -man of forty-six was to lay down that useful life which had been given -so ardently and unselfishly for the good of his city and the joy and -benefit of his family. - -At this time, however, when Theodore went back to college as a -sophomore, there was no apprehension about my father’s health, and the -first term of the college year was passed in his usual happy activities. - -Shortly after the New Year my father’s condition became serious, due -to intestinal trouble, and the following weeks were passed in anxious -nursing, the distress of which was greatly accentuated by the frightful -suffering of the patient, who, however, in spite of constant agony, -bore the sudden shattering of his wonderful health with magnificent -courage. My brother Theodore could not realize, as did my brother -Elliott, who was at home, the serious condition of our father, for it -was deemed best that he should not return from college, where difficult -examinations required all his application and energy. Elliott gave -unstintedly a devotion which was so tender that it was more like -that of a woman, and his young strength was poured out to help his -father’s condition. The best physicians searched in vain for remedy -for the hidden trouble, but in spite of all their efforts the first -Theodore Roosevelt died, February 9, 1878, and the gay young college -sophomore was recalled to a house of mourning. In spite of the sorrow, -in spite of a sense of irreparable loss, there was something infinitely -inspiring in the days preceding and following my father’s death. -When New York City knew that its benefactor lay in extreme illness, -it seemed as if the whole city came to the door of his home to ask -news of him. How well I remember the day before his death, when the -papers had announced that there was but little hope of his recovery. -The crowd of individuals who filled 57th Street in their effort to -hear the physicians’ bulletin concerning his condition was huge and -varied. Newsboys from the West Side Lodging House, little Italian girls -from his Sunday-school class, sat for hours on the stone steps of 6 -West 57th Street, our second home, waiting with anxious intensity for -news of the man who meant more to them than any other human being had -ever meant before; and those more fortunate ones who had known him -in another way drove unceasingly up in their carriages to the door -and looked with sympathetic interest at the children of the slums who -shared with them such a sense of bitter bereavement and loss in the -premature death of one so closely connected with all sides of his -beloved native city. - -Meanwhile, the family of the first Theodore Roosevelt seemed hardly -able to face the blank that life meant when he left them, but they also -felt that the man who had preached always that “one must live for the -living” would have wished “his own” to follow out his ideal of life, -and so each one of us took up, as bravely as we could, our special -duties and felt that our close family tie must be made stronger rather -than weaker by the loss that we had sustained. - -On March 3, 1878, my brother writes from Cambridge: - - My own darling, sweet, little treasure of a Pussie: Oh! I have - so longed for you at times during the last few days. Darling one, - you can hardly know what an inestimable blessing to a fellow it is - to have such a home as I have. Even now that our dear father has - been taken away, it is such a great pleasure to look forward to a - visit home; and indeed, he has only ‘gone before,’ and oh! what - living and loving memories he has left behind him. I can _feel_ his - presence sometimes when I am sitting alone in the evening; I have - not felt nearly as sad as I expected to feel, although, of course, - there are every now and then very bitter moments. I am going to - bring home some of his sweet letters to show you. I shall always - keep them, if merely as talismans against evil. Kiss little mother - for me, and my love to Aunt Susie and Uncle Hill. [My mother and - I were staying in Philadelphia with my aunt Mrs. West.] Tell the - latter, Uncle Hill, I am looking forward to spending a month of - nude happiness with him next summer among the wilds of Oyster Bay. - - YOUR LOVING TEDDY. - -When my brother speaks of keeping my father’s letters to him as -“talismans against evil,” he not only expressed the feeling of desire -to keep near him always the actual letters written by my father, but -far more the spirit with which these letters are permeated. Years -afterward, when the college boy of 1878 was entering upon his duties -as President of the United States, he told me frequently that he never -took any serious step or made any vital decision for his country -without thinking first what position his father would have taken on the -question. The day that he moved into the White House happened to be -September 22, the day of my father’s birth, and dining with him that -night in the White House for the first time, we all mentioned this -fact and felt that it was a good omen for the future, and my brother -said that every time he dated a letter that day he felt with a glow -of tender memory the realization that it was his father’s birthday, -and that his father’s blessing seemed specially to follow him on that -first day when he made his home in the beautiful old white mansion -which stands in the heart of America for all that America means to her -sons and daughters. - -Several other equally loving letters in that March of 1878 proved how -the constant thoughts of the young sophomore turned to the family at -home, and also his own sense of loss in his father’s death, but I think -the many interests and normal surroundings brought their healing power -to the boy of nineteen, and at the end of that year of his college -life he had become a well-rounded character. His mind, intelligently -focussed upon many intellectual subjects, had broadened in scope, -and physically he was no longer the delicate, dreamy boy of earlier -days. The period of his college life, although not one of as unusual -interest as perhaps other periods in his life, was of inestimable value -in the forming of his character. Had Theodore Roosevelt continued to -be abnormally developed along the scientific and intellectual side of -his nature, he would never have become the “All-American” which he was -destined to be. It was necessary for him to fall into more commonplace -grooves; it was necessary for him to meet the young men of his age on -common ground, to get the “give-and-take” of a life very different from -the more or less individual life which, owing to his ill health and -intellectual aspirations, he had hitherto led, and already, by the end -of the second year of college, he was beginning to take a place in the -circle of his friends which showed in an embryonic way the leadership -which later was to be so strongly evidenced. - -On October 8, 1878, returning to Cambridge as a junior, he writes to -his mother: “Darling, beloved, little motherling: I have just loved -your dear, funny, pathetic, little letter, and I am now going to write -you the longest letter I ever write, and if it is still rather short, -you must recollect that it takes Teddy-boy a long time to write. I have -enjoyed Charlie Dickey’s being here extremely, and I think I have been -of some service to him. We always go to prayers together; for his own -sake, I have not been much with him in the daytime, but every evening, -we spend a good part of the time together in my room or his. He is -just the same, honest, fine fellow as ever, and unless I am very much -mistaken, is going to make a thorough success in every way of college. -My studies do not come very well this year, as I have to work nearly as -hard on Saturday as on any other day--six, seven or eight hours. Some -of the studies are extremely interesting, however, especially Political -Economy and Metaphysics. These are both rather hard, requiring a good -deal of work, but they are even more interesting than my Natural -History courses; and all the more so from the fact that I radically -disagree on many points with the men whose books we are reading, (Mill -and Ferrier). One of my zoological courses is rather dry, but the other -I like very much, though it necessitates ten or twelve hours’ work a -week. My German is not very interesting, but I expect that my Italian -will be when I get further on. For exercise, I have had to rely on -walking, but today I have regularly begun sparring. I practice a good -deal with the rifle, walking to and from the range, which is nearly -three miles off; my scores have been fair, although not very good. -Funnily enough, I have enjoyed quite a burst of popularity since I came -back, having been elected into several different clubs. My own friends -have, as usual, been perfect trumps, and I have been asked to spend -Sundays with at least a half-dozen of them, but I have to come back to -Cambridge Sunday mornings on account of Sunday School, which makes it -more difficult to pay visits. I indulged in a luxury the other day in -buying ‘The Library of British Poets,’ and I delight in my purchase -very much, but I have been so busy that I have hardly had time to read -it yet. I shall really have to have a new bookcase for I have nowhere -to put my books.... Your loving son, T. Jr.” - -The above letter is of distinct interest for several reasons: first of -all, because of the affectionate pains taken by the young man of now -nearly twenty to keep his mother informed about all his activities, -intellectual, physical, and social. So many young men of that age are -careless of the great interest taken by their mothers and do not share -with them the joys and difficulties of college life. All through his -life, from his boyhood to the very last weeks of his busy existence, -my brother Theodore was a great sharer. This is all the more unusual -because, as a rule, the man of intellectual pursuits is apt to deny -himself to the claims of family and friends, but not so with Theodore -Roosevelt, except during the period of some specially hard task, when -he would give himself to it to the exclusion of every other interest. -Unless during such rare periods, no member of his family ever went to -him for guidance or solace or interest without the most generous and -most loving response. In the above letter he shows his response to -the tender inquiries of his mother, so lately widowed, and he wishes -to give her all the information that she desires. One can see that -the young junior, as he now was, was coming into his own in more ways -than one. He is working harder intellectually; already metaphysics -and political economy are catching up with “natural history” in his -affections, and, in fact, outdistancing the latter. His individual -point of view is shown by the fact that he “radically disagrees on -many points with Mill and Ferrier,” and he again shows the persevering -determination, so largely a part of his character, in the way in which -he walks to and fro the three miles to practise with his rifle at the -range. The modest way in which he speaks of his “burst of popularity” -is also very characteristic, for he received the unusual distinction of -being invited to join several of the most popular clubs. Altogether, -this letter in which he tells, although he makes no point of it, of -his still faithful service at Sunday-school, no matter how much it -interferes with the gay week-end visits which he so much enjoys, and -the glimpse which he gives us of his love of poetry as an offset to his -harder studies, seems to me to depict in a lovable and admirable light -the young Harvard student. - -Having written in this accurate way to his mother, within a month he -writes to his younger sister: - - Sweet Pussie: I am spending Sunday with Minot Weld. It is a - beautiful day and this afternoon we are going to drive over to - Dick Saltonstall’s where we shall go out walking with Miss Rose - Saltonstall and Miss Alice Lee, and drive home by moonlight after - tea. I have begun studying fairly hard now, and shall keep it up - until Christmas. I am afraid I shall not be able to come home for - Thanksgiving; I really have my hands full, especially now that my - Political Economy Professor wishes me to start a Finance Club, - which would be very interesting indeed, and would do us all a great - deal of good, but which will also take up a great deal of time. - Of course, I spend a good deal of my spare time in the Porcellian - Club which is great fun. Night before last, Harry Shaw and I gave - a little supper up there, the chief items on the bill of fare were - partridges and Burgundy,--I, confining myself to the partridges. I - am going to cut Sunday school today for the second time this year, - but when the weather is so beautiful as this, I like every now and - then to spend Sunday with a friend. Harry Chapin is going to take - my class for me today. Good-bye sweet one,-- - - YOUR LOVING TEDO. - -Here again we see the growth of the young man, the growth of his -influence in his class, for it is to him that the Political Economy -professor turns to start a finance club, and we see also the -proportionate all-round development, for not only does he read poetry, -start finance clubs, differ with Mill and Ferrier on abstract subjects, -but also joins with Harry Shaw in a little supper of partridges and -Burgundy--he confining himself, I would have my readers know, to the -partridges! Theodore Roosevelt was growing in every way and especially -becoming the more all-round man, and it was well that this growth -should take place, for if the all-round man can still keep focussed -ideals and strong determination to achieve in individual directions, -it is because of the all-round qualities that he becomes the leader of -men. Again the happy Christmas holidays came, but this time shadowed by -the great blank made by my father’s loss, and in February, 1879, he -writes again--now of happy coasting-parties at the Saltonstalls’, where -began his intimate relationship with lovely Alice Lee, who later became -his wife. One can see the merry young people flying, as he says, “like -the wind,” on their long toboggans, and then having a gay dance at the -hospitable house of Mrs. Lee. - -In March he writes: “I only came out second best in the sparring -contest, but I do not care very much for I have had uncommonly good -luck in everything this year from studies to society. I enjoyed my trip -to Maine very much indeed; of course, I fell behind in my studies, but -by working pretty hard last week, I succeeded in nearly catching up -again.” This trip to Maine cemented the great friendship between my -brother and those splendid backwoodsmen, Bill Sewall and Will Dow, who -were later to be partners in his ranching venture in the Far West. Bill -Sewall was a strong influence in my brother’s young manhood, and for -him great admiration was conceived by the young city boy and, later, -by the college student. The splendid, simple, strong man of the woods, -though not having had similar educational advantages, was still so -earnest a reader and so natural a philosopher that his attitude toward -books and life had lasting influence over his young companion. - -About this same time, March, 1879, my brother wrote me one of the -sweetest and most characteristic of his little love-letters. It was -dated from the Porcellian Club on March 28, and enclosed a diminutive -birch-bark book of poetry, and the letter ran as follows: “Wee Pussy, -I came across such a funny, wee book of poetry today, and I send it to -a wee, funny Kitty Coo, with Teddy’s best love.” The page on which the -sweet words are written is yellow, but the little birch-bark book is -still intact, and the great love engendered by the tender thought of, -and expression of that thought to, his sister is even deeper than when -the sweet words were actually written. - -[Illustration: LETTER TO CORINNE ROOSEVELT ACCOMPANYING “BIRCH BARK -POEMS”] - -On May 3 he writes in a humorous vein: “Pet Pussie: At last the deed is -done and I have shaved off my whiskers! The consequence, I am bound -to add, is that I look like a dissolute democrat of the Fourth Ward; I -send you some tintypes I had taken; the front views are pretty good, -although giving me an expression of glum misery that I sincerely hope -is not natural. The side views do not resemble me any more than they -do Michael Angelo or John A. Weeks. The next four months are going to -be one ‘demnition grind’ but by great good luck, I shall be able to -leave here June 5th, I think.” The whiskers were permanently removed -and never again reappeared, except on his hunting trip the following -year, and I think he felt, himself, that the lack of them added a touch -of elegance to his appearance, for he writes again within a day or -two: “I rode over on Saturday morning (very swell with hunting crop -and beaver) to Chestnut Hill where I took lunch with the Lees.” He is -beginning to be quite a gentleman of fashion, and so the care-free days -glide by, another summer comes, with pleasant visits, and another Maine -woods excursion; but even when writing in the midst of house-parties -of bewildering gaiety, he adds at the end of a long letter in August, -1879, “For my birthday, among the books I most want are the complete -editions of Prescott, Motley, and Carlyle,” and signs himself “Your -loving St. Buv.,” a new pet name which he had given himself and which -was a conglomerate of St. Beuve, for whose writings he had great -admiration, and the brother for whom his little sister had such great -admiration. - -His last year at college was one of equal growth, although the -development was not as apparent as in his junior year, and in June, -1880, he graduated with honors, a happy, successful Harvard alumnus. -A number of his New York friends went on for class day, and all made -merry together, and not long afterwards he and his brother Elliott -started on a hunting trip together. Elliott, who as a young child had -been the strong one, when Theodore was a delicate little boy, had, -during the years of adolescence, been somewhat of an invalid and could -not go to college; our father, wise as ever, decided he must have -his education in another way, and he arranged for Elliott to spend -several years largely in the open air. He became a splendid shot, and -my brother Theodore always felt that Elliott was far the better hunter -of the two. The brothers were devoted to each other, and were each the -complement of the other in character. Theodore writes from Wilcox’s -farm, Illinois, August 22, 1880: “Darling Pussie: We have been having -a lovely time so far, have shot fair quantities of game, are in good -health, though our fare and accommodations are of the roughest. The -shooting is great fun; you would laugh to see us start off in a wagon, -in our rough, dirty, hunting-suits, not looking very different from our -driver; a stub-tailed, melancholy looking pointer under the front seat, -and a yellow, fool idea of a setter under the back one, which last is -always getting walked on and howling dismally. We enjoy the long drives -very much: the roads are smooth and lovely, and the country, a vast -undulating prairie, cut up by great fields of corn and wheat with few -trees. The birds are not very plentiful, but of great variety; we get -prairie chickens in the stubble fields, plover in the pastures, snipe -in the ‘slews,’ and ducks in the ponds. We hunt about an hour or two in -a place, then get into our wagon and drive on, so that, though we cover -a very large tract of country, we are not very tired at the end of the -day, only enough to make us sleep well. The climate is simply superb, -and though the scenery is not very varied, yet there is something very -attractive to me in these great treeless, rolling plains, and Nellie -[his pet name for Elliott] and I are great chums, and in the evening, -sit and compare our adventures in ‘other lands’ until bedtime which is -pretty early.” - -[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt in his twenty-second year. - -Elliott Roosevelt in his twenty-first year. - -Portrait taken in Chicago, July, 1880, on the way to the hunting trip -of that season.] - -And again he writes a few weeks later from Chicago, in a very bantering -vein: - - September 12, 1880--Darling Pussie: We have come back here - after a week’s hunting in Iowa. Elliott revels in the change to - civilization--and epicurean pleasures. As soon as we got here - he took some ale to get the dust out of his throat; then a milk - punch because he was thirsty; a mint julep because it was hot; - a brandy mash “to keep the cold out of his stomach”; and then - sherry and bitters to give him an appetite. He took a very simple - dinner--soup, fish, salmi de grouse, sweetbread, mutton, venison, - corn, macaroni, various vegetables and some puddings and pies, - together with beer, later claret and in the evening, shandigaff. I - confined myself to roast beef and potatoes; when I took a second - help he marvelled at my appetite--and at bedtime, wondered why - in thunder _he_ felt “stuffy” and _I_ didn’t. The good living - also reached his brain, and he tried to lure me into a discussion - about the intellectual development of the Hindoos, coupled with - some rather discursive and scarcely logical digressions about the - Infinity of the Infinite, the Sunday school system, and the planet - Mars, together with some irrelevant remarks about Texan “Jack - Rabbits” which are apparently about as large as good-sized cows. - Elliott says that these remarks are incorrect and malevolent; but I - say they pay him off for his last letter about my eating manners! - We have had very good fun so far, in spite of a succession of - untoward accidents and delays. I broke both my guns, Elliott dented - his, and the shooting was not as good as we had expected; I got - bitten by a snake and chucked headforemost out of the wagon. - - YOUR SEEDY BROTHER, THEO. - -Nothing could better exemplify the intimate, comprehending relationship -of the two brothers than the above letter, in which, with exaggerated -fun, Theodore “pays Elliott off” for his criticisms of the future -President’s eating manners! All through their lives--alas! Elliott’s -life was to end prematurely at the age of thirty-three--the same -relationship endured between them. Each was full of rare charm, joy of -life, and unselfish interest in his fellow man, and thus they had much -in common always. - -The hunting trip described so vividly in these two letters was, in a -sense, the climax of this period of my brother’s life. College days -were over, the happy summer following his graduation was also on the -wane, and within a brief six weeks from the time these letters were -written, Theodore Roosevelt, a married man, was to go forth on the -broader avenues of his life’s destiny. - - - - -V - -THE YOUNG REFORMER - - “Lift up thy praise to Life - That set thee in the strenuous ways, - And left thee not to drowse and rot - In some thick perfumed and luxurious plot. - - “Strong, strong is Earth - With vigor for thy feet, - To make thy wayfaring - Tireless and fleet, - - “And good is Earth, - But Earth not all thy good, - O thou with seeds of suns - And star-fire in thy blood.” - - -The early part of the year 1881 was spent by Theodore Roosevelt and -his young wife with my mother at 6 West 57th Street, and was devoted -largely to literary work and efforts to acquaint himself with the -political interests of the district in which we lived. - -During the following summer, they travelled in Europe; he climbed Swiss -mountains and showed his usual capacity for surmounting obstacles. June -16, 1881, he writes from Paris in connection with artistic wanderings -in the Louvre. “I have not admired any of the French painters much -excepting Greuze. Rubens’ ‘Three Wives’ are reproduced in about fifty -different ways, which I think a mistake. No painter can make the same -face serve for Venus, the Virgin, and a Flemish lady.” And again on -August 24 from Brussels: “I know nothing at all, in reality, of art, -I regret to say, but I do know what pictures I like. I am not at all -fond of Rubens; he is mentally a fleshly, sensuous painter, and yet his -most famous pictures are those relating to the Divinity. Above all, -he fails in his female figures. Rubens’ women are handsome animals -except his pictures of rich Flemish house-wives, but they are either -ludicrous or ugly when meant to represent either the Virgin or a Saint. -I think they are not much better as heathen goddesses. I do not like -a chubby Minerva, a corpulent Venus, or a Diana who is so fat that -I know she could never overtake a cow, let alone a deer. Rembrandt -is by all odds my favorite. I am very much attracted by his strongly -contrasting coloring and I could sit for hours examining his heads; -they are so life-like and impressive. Van Helst I like for the sake of -the realism with which he presents to one, the bold, rich, turbulent -Dutchman of his time. Vandyke’s heads are wonderful; they are very -life-like and very powerful--but if the originals were like them, I -should hardly have admired one of them. Perhaps, the pictures I really -get most enjoyment out of are the landscapes, the homely little Dutch -and Flemish interiors, the faithful representations of how the people -of those times lived and made merry and died, which are given us by -Jan Steen, Van Ostade, Teniers, and Ruysdael. They bring out the life -of that period in a way no written history could do, and interest me -far more than pictures of Saints and Madonnas. I suppose this sounds -heretical but it is true. This time I have really _tried_ to like the -holy pictures but I cannot; even the Italian masters seem to me to -represent good men and insipid, good women, but rarely anything saintly -or divine. The only pictures I have seen with these attributes are -Gustav Doree’s! He alone represents the Christ so that your pity for -him is lost in intense admiration and reverence. Your loving brother.” - -The above letter is one unusual in its type, because it was rare for -Theodore Roosevelt to write as much about art. He always loved certain -types of pictures, but his busy, active career had but small time for -the more æsthetic interests! All these criticisms by the young man -not yet twenty-three have their value because they show so distinctly -the character of the young man himself. One sees the interest which -he takes in his humankind as represented by certain types of Dutch -pictures, and also his love for spiritual beauty, when not belittled -by insipidity. Perhaps the last sentence of this letter is most -characteristic of all of his own vital spirit. He does not wish to pity -the Christ; he almost insists that pity must be lost in admiration and -reverence. Pity always seemed to Theodore Roosevelt an undesirable -quality; tenderest sympathy he gave and craved--but never pity. - -After this brief artistic sojourn he plunged with great energy, on his -return, into the drudgery of political life in his own district. Many -were the criticisms of his friends and acquaintances at the thought -of his taking up city or state politics from a serious standpoint. At -that time, even more than now, “politics” was considered as something -far removed from the life of any one brought up to other spheres -than that of mud-slinging and corruption. All “politics” was more or -less regarded as inextricably intertwined with the above. Theodore -Roosevelt, however, realized from the very beginning of his life -that “armchair” criticism was ineffectual, and, because ineffectual, -undesirable. If one were to regard oneself in the light of a capable -critic, the actual criticism immediately obligated the person indulging -in it to _do_ something about the matter. He often used to quote the -old story of “Squeers” in “Nicholas Nickleby,” that admirable old novel -of Charles Dickens, in which “Do the Boys’ Hall” was so amusingly -described. Mr. Squeers, the master of the above school, would call up a -pupil and ask him to spell window. He pronounced it “winder,” and the -pupil in turn would spell it “w-i-n-d-e-r.” The spelling would not be -corrected but the boy would receive the injunction to “go and wash it,” -and my brother always said that while he did not approve of “Squeers’” -spelling--nor indeed of other methods practised by him--that the “go -and wash it” was an admirable method to follow in political life. The -very fact that, although by no means a wealthy man, he had a sufficient -competence to make it unnecessary for him to earn his own living, -made him feel that he must devote his life largely to public affairs. -He realized that unless the men of his type and caliber interested -themselves in American government, the city, state, and country in -which they lived would not have the benefit of educated minds and of -incorruptible characters. He therefore set himself to work to learn the -methods used in ordinary political life, and, by learning the methods, -to fit himself to fight intelligently whatever he found unworthy of -free American citizenship. - -He has described this part of his life in his own autobiography. -He has told of how he met Joseph Murray, a force in the political -district, who became his devoted adherent, and how he decided himself -to become one of the “governing class.” This effort resulted in his -nomination for the New York State Assembly, and on January 1, 1882, -Theodore Roosevelt became outwardly, what inwardly he had always -been, a devoted public servant. That winter remains in my mind as -one of intense interest in all of his activities. We were all living -at my mother’s home in 57th Street, and he spent part of the week in -Albany, returning, as a rule, on Friday for the week-end. Many were -the long talks, many the humorous accounts given us of his adventures -as an assemblyman, and all the time we, his family, realized that an -influence unusual in that New York State Assembly was beginning to -be felt. Already, by the end of a month or so, he was known as “the -Young Reformer,” ardent and earnest, who pleaded for right thinking, -and definite practical interpretation of right thinking. His name was -on the lips of many before he had been three months an assemblyman, -and already his native city was beginning to take a more than amused -interest in his activities. - -A certain highbrow club called “The 19th Century Club,” whose president -was the editor of the _Evening Post_ (a paper neither then nor later -_always_ in accord with the ideals and methods of Theodore Roosevelt!), -invited the young assemblyman to make an address before its members. -He accepted the invitation, feeling, as he always did, that it was -well to give the type of message that _he_ wished to give to the type -of citizens of which that club was composed. Following my invariable -custom whenever it was possible for me to do so, I accompanied him to -the meeting. The method of procedure in “The 19th Century Club” was -as follows: The speaker of the evening was allowed to choose his own -subject, announced, of course, several weeks in advance, and he was -given a half-hour in which to develop his idea. A second speaker was -invited to rebut the first speaker. The speaker of the evening was then -allowed ten minutes to rebut the rebutter. It is, I think, of special -interest to remember that the young assemblyman, twenty-three years of -age, chose for his subject the same theme on which the man of sixty, -who was about to die, wrote his last message to his countrymen. - -Theodore Roosevelt announced that he would speak to “The 19th Century -Club” on “Americanism.” A brilliant editor of an able newspaper was -asked to make the speech in answer to the address of “the Young -Reformer.” As I say, I went with my brother to the meeting and sat -directly under him in a front seat. It was the first time I had ever -heard him speak in public and I confess to having been extremely -nervous. He was never an orator, although later his speeches were -delivered with great charm of manner and diction, but at this -early stage of his career he had not the graces of an older and -more finished speaker. I can see him now as he came forward on the -platform and began with eager ardor his plea for Americanism. Every -fibre of my being responded to him and to his theme, but I seemed to -be alone in my response, for the somewhat chilly audience, full of -that same armchair criticism of which I have spoken, gave but little -response to the desire of the heart of Theodore Roosevelt, and when -he had finished his half-hour’s presentation of his plea, there was -very little applause, and he sat down looking somewhat nervous and -disappointed. Then the brilliant man, twice the age of Theodore -Roosevelt, who had been chosen to reply to him, rose, and with deft -oratorical manipulation rang the changes on every “ism” he could think -of, using as his fundamental argument the fact that all “isms” were -fads. He spoke of the superstition of spiritualism, the extravagance -of fanaticism, the hypocrisy of hypnotism, the plausibility of -socialism--and the highbrow members of “The 19th Century Club” were -with the brilliant orator from start to finish, and as he closed his -subtile argument, which left Americanism high and dry on the shores -of faddism, the audience felt that “the Young Reformer” had had his -lesson, and gave genuine applause to his opponent. - -Half-way through that opponent’s address, I confess, on my own part, -to having experienced a great feeling of discouragement; not because I -agreed with what he said, but because of the effect produced upon the -listeners; but suddenly I saw my brother smile the same smile which -used to cross his face in later years when some heckler would try to -embarrass him from the back of a great hall, and he took a pencil and -wrote something on his cuff. The smile was transitory but it gave -me fresh hope, and I knew quite well that the audience would hear -something worth while, if not to their liking, in the last ten minutes -of the evening, when, as I said before, the speaker of the evening -was allowed to rebut the rebutter. The clever editor sat down amidst -interested applause, and “the Young Reformer” stepped once more forward -to the edge of the platform. He leaned far over from the platform, -so earnest, so eager was he, and this is what he said: “I believe -that I am allowed ten minutes in which to refute the arguments of my -opponent. I do not need ten minutes--I do not need five minutes--I -hardly need one minute--I shall ask you one question, and as you answer -that question, you will decide who has won this argument--myself or -the gentleman on the other side of this platform. My question is as -follows: If it is true that all isms are fads, I would ask you, Fellow -Citizens, what about _Patriotism_?” The audience rose to its feet; -even “The 19th Century Club” could not but acknowledge that patriotism -was a valuable attribute for American citizens to possess. That was -the first time that Theodore Roosevelt, in public, asked of his fellow -countrymen, “What about Patriotism?” but all his life long, from that -time on, it was the question forever on his lips, the question which -his own life most adequately answered. - -In April of that same year, Theodore, an assemblyman not yet -twenty-four, had already made himself so conspicuous a figure that -mention of him and his attitudes was constantly in the New York press. -In an envelope, put away long ago, I find an excerpt from the New York -_Times_, April 5, 1882. It is yellow with age and brittle, but there -was something ineffaceable and prophetic in the faded words; I quote: - -“He called from the table his resolution directing an investigation -by the Standing Judiciary Committee of the acts of Judge Westbrook -and Ex-Attorney General Ward in connection with the gigantic stock -jobbing scheme of the Manhattan Railroad Co. (Elevated). Ex-Governor -Alvord _tried_ to prevent resolution, but it was carried 48-22. As Mr. -Roosevelt rose to speak, the House, for almost the only time during the -Session, grew silent and listened to every word that he uttered.” - -In the midst of a body of men somewhat inclined to a certain kind of -careless irreverence, it is of marked interest that “as Mr. Roosevelt -rose to speak, the House, for almost the only time during the Session, -grew silent and listened to every word that he uttered.” To how few -young men of twenty-three would “the House” accord such respect! As -I say, the attitude was prophetic, for the following forty years, no -matter how fiercely he was criticised, no matter what fury of invective -was launched against him, no matter how jealously and vindictively -he was occasionally opposed, there was never a place where Theodore -Roosevelt rose to speak that he was not listened to with great -attention. - -In the _Sun_ of the same date the account of the incident runs as -follows: “Mr. Roosevelt’s speech was delivered with deliberation -and measured emphasis, and his charges were made with a boldness -that was almost startling.” Those first two years of his career as -an assemblyman showed, indeed, again, that the youth was father to -the man. The characteristics which marked his whole public life -never showed more dominantly than as a young assemblyman in Albany. -Uncompromising courage was combined with common sense, and the power -of practical though never unworthy compromise was as evident then as -later in his life. Those years have been fully dwelt upon in his own -autobiography. - -The great tragedy of his young wife’s death at the birth of her first -child was an even greater tragedy because the death of our lovely -mother occurred twenty-four hours before her son’s wife passed away. -Our mother’s home at 57th Street had been the background of our young -married life, as it had been the foreground of our youth, and the -winter of 1884 had been spent by my husband and myself at 6 West -57th Street, and the consequence was that as Theodore also made his -headquarters there, we had been much together, and that very fact made -it even harder to break up the home which had been so long the centre -of our family life. - -The next two years were almost the saddest of our happy lives. My -brother had, fortunately, already interested himself in a ranching -enterprise in North Dakota, and although he returned to the assembly -in February, 1884, and with his usual courage finished his year of -duty there, he turned gladly to the new life of the West, and became, -through his absolute comprehension of the pioneer type of the cowboy -and the ranchman, not only one of them from a physical standpoint, but -also one of them from the standpoint of understanding their mental -outlook. - -In June, 1884, however, before starting for Dakota, he was to meet one -of the serious political decisions of his life. That spring, when it -came time to elect delegates to the Republican National Convention, he -was, with the hearty approval of the great mass of his party, chosen -as the chief of the four delegates-at-large from New York State. Mr. -Joseph Bucklin Bishop gives in his history of “Theodore Roosevelt and -His Time” a short account of that convention, of which I quote part: - -“He went to the National Convention an avowed advocate of the -nomination of Senator John F. Edmunds of Vermont as Republican -Candidate for the Presidency in preference to James G. Blaine. The New -York _Times_ of June 4th, 1884, refers to him as the leader of the -Younger Republicans, and says, ‘when he spoke, it was not the voice of -a youth but the voice of a man, and a positive practical man.’” - -Mr. Bishop describes Mr. Roosevelt’s efforts and the efforts of -Senator Henry Cabot Lodge to secure the nomination of their choice, -and then continues: “By the nomination of Mr. Blaine which followed -later, Roosevelt was confronted with what, in many respects, was one -of the most serious crises of his career. He had to decide which of -the two courses he should choose; he must separate himself completely -from his party and become an absolute Independent, or stay within his -party and support its regularly appointed candidate. The nomination of -Mr. Blaine had been fairly won. He was unquestionably the choice of -the Convention. There was no claim that the will of the majority had -been subverted either through the action of a committee on contested -seats or in any other way. The problem before him was thus a quite -different one from that presented to him twenty-eight years later in -the National Republican Convention of 1912. In opposing the nomination -of Mr. Blaine, he and his Republican Associates had been acting with a -considerable body of Professional Independents. These men were without -allegiance to either of the great political parties. Though he had -been, during his brief public career, an avowed Republican, seeking -to accomplish all his reforms through Republican aid and inside party -lines, his Independent associates, as soon as the Blaine nomination was -made, assumed that he would leave his party and join them in seeking to -accomplish Mr. Blaine’s defeat by supporting the Democratic candidate. -In fact, they not merely asked but demanded that he abandon the course -which he had followed since his entry into political life and upon -which he had built his public career. They were sincere in their belief -that he should do so. It seemed incredible to them that he could do -anything else. He gave them full credit for sincerity but declared that -the question was one that he must insist upon deciding for himself. - -“He admitted frankly that he had worked hard for the nomination of -Edmunds but he declined to say at once what course he should pursue in -regard to the nomination of Mr. Blaine. Various devices were used to -force him to declare his intentions, some by Republican politicians -and others by leading Independents, but all in vain. He insisted upon -deciding the question for himself and in his own way and time. He went -direct from the Convention in Chicago to his ranch in Dakota, and -several weeks later put forth a formal statement in which he defined -his decision as follows: ‘I intend to vote the Republican Presidential -ticket. While at Chicago, I told Mr. Lodge that such was my intention -but before announcing it, I wished to have time to think the matter -over. A man cannot act both without and within the party; he can do -either, but he cannot possibly do both. Each course has its advantages -and each has its disadvantages, and one cannot take the advantages or -the disadvantages separately. I went in with my eyes open to do what -I could within the party. I did my best and got beaten, and I propose -to stand by the result. It is impossible to combine the functions of a -guerilla chief with those of a colonel in the regular army; one has a -greater independence of action, the other is able to make what action -he does take vastly more effective. In certain contingencies, the one -can do most good; in certain contingencies the other; but there is -no use in accepting a commission and then trying to play the game out -on a lone hand. I am by inheritance and by education a Republican. -Whatever good I have been able to accomplish in public life has been -accomplished through the Republican party. I have acted with it in -the past and wish to act with it in the future. I went as a regular -delegate to the Chicago Convention and intend to abide by the outcome -of that Convention. I am going back in a day or two to my Western ranch -as I do not intend to take any part in a campaign this Fall.’” [This -determination not to take part in the campaign he recalled later, for -reasons which were eminently characteristic.] - -“‘When I started out to my ranch two months ago,’ he said in October, -‘I had no intention of taking any part whatever in the Presidential -canvass, and the decision I have now come to is the result of revolving -the matter in my mind during that time. It is altogether contrary to -my character to keep a neutral position in so important and exciting a -struggle, and besides any natural struggle to keep a position of some -kind, I made up my mind that it was clearly my duty to support the -ticket.’” - -He faced the storm of disapproval and abuse calmly, and in reply to an -open letter of regret and remonstrance from an Independent, he wrote: -“I thank you for your good opinion of my past service. My power, if -I ever had any, may or may not be as utterly gone as you think, but -most certainly, it would deserve to go if I yield any more to the -pressure of the Independents at present, when I consider _them_ to be -wrong, than I yielded in the past to the pressure of the machine when -I thought _it_ wrong.” He declined a renomination for the assembly, -which he could have had without opposition, and two separate offers of -nominations for Congress, on the ground that his private interests, -which he had neglected during his service in the legislature, required -his attention. - -His courageous attitude in connection with the disapproval of the -Independents was indeed characteristic. He was invariably willing to -run the risk of the disapproval of any faction when he had positively -made up his own mind as to the right or wrong of any question, and -he set his mind and heart upon those “private interests” of which he -speaks. - -In a later chapter I give several of his letters of this period in -connection with a trip which he arranged for the members of his family -to the Elkhorn Ranch and the Yellowstone Park in 1890. All his craving -for the out-of-door life, all his sympathy with pioneer enterprise, -such as his heroes Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett had indulged in, were -satisfied by those long days on the open prairies, and by the building -of his ranch-houses with the assistance of his old friends, Bill Sewall -and Will Dow, the two stanch Maine lumbermen, uncle and nephew, with -whom he had made many an excursion in the Maine woods in earlier days. -Theodore Roosevelt, however, was not to be allowed by his country to -remain too long the rider and dreamer under cottonwood-trees, or even -a potent influence for good in Western affairs, as he became. Already -rumors were abroad that he would be the choice of the Republican party -for the nominee for mayor of New York City, and he was recalled from -the wilds of North Dakota to a stirring triangular campaign in which -Henry George, representing “Single Tax” beliefs, Abraham S. Hewitt, -Democratic nominee, and the young ranchman from Dakota battled lustily -against each other, with the result that Mr. Hewitt was elected mayor -of New York. - -In the autumn of 1886 he sailed for Europe to marry his old friend -Edith Carow, and for a brief period led a life of leisure and travel. -Only very rarely in his busy existence had he time for just that life -again, and the consequence is that some of his letters at that period -have an unusual value. He humorously described some of his travels -in Italy in a letter dated December, 1886, as follows: “My lack of -knowledge of the language has given me some soul-harrowing moments,--a -mixture of broken English with German and French proving but an -indifferent substitute for Italian, so I sometimes get what I do not -want, as when yesterday, an effort to state that after dinner we wished -only black coffee, expressed with deprecatory waves of the hand and the -idiomatic phrase, ‘c’est genuch’ produced in addition, cheese, pastry, -and fruit, all brought by the waiter in a wild hope that some one of -those might satisfy what he evidently supposed was my untranslatable -demand.” - -A little later, from Sorrento, he writes in characteristic fashion, -showing that even in so romantic and enthralling a spot as Rome he -was still “on duty bent” from the standpoint of writing articles for -the _Century_. He says: “I finished six articles for the _Century_ -on ranch life while in Rome and sent them off. I do not know whether -the _Century_ will want them or not. I read them all to Edith and her -corrections and help were most valuable to me. Now I am wondering why -my ‘Life of Benton’ has not come out. Here, [at Sorrento] I generally -take a moderate walk with Edith every morning, and then a brisk rush by -myself. I had no idea that it was in me to enjoy the ‘dolce far niente’ -even as long as I have. Luckily, Edith would dislike an extended stay -in Europe as much as I would.” - -In this letter, after speaking of ranch losses which necessitated -selling his beloved hunter, Sagamore, he signs himself, “Your -extravagant and irrelevant but affectionate brother, the White Knight,” -the latter being a reference to the character in “Alice in Wonderland,” -from which enchanting book we invariably quoted in ordinary -conversation or letters. - -From Venice, in February, he writes: “Venice is perfectly lovely. It -is more strange than any other Italian town, and the architecture -has a certain florid barbarism about it,--Byzantine,--dashed with -something stronger--that appeals to some streak in my nature.” They -returned to London later, and were shown many attentions, for even at -that early period in his life, England recognized the statesman in -Theodore Roosevelt. He speaks of Mr. Bryce the historian as a “charming -man”--their friendship was to last all through my brother’s life, and -he mentions many other well-known young Englishmen, who have now grown -old in their country’s service. In a letter dated March 6 he says: -“I have been having great fun in London, and have seen just the very -nicest people, social, political, and literary. We have just come back -from a lunch at the Jeunes’, which was most enjoyable. Edith sat beside -Chamberlain, who impresses me very much with his keen, shrewd intellect -and quiet force. I sat between Trevelyan, who was just charming, and a -Lady Leamington.” - -Unless I am mistaken, that was the first time my brother met Sir -George Trevelyan, with whom he carried on a faithful and interesting -correspondence for many years. “Mrs. Jeune has asked us to dine to -meet Lord Charles Beresford and Lord Hartington, and I have been put -down for the Athenæum Club, and also taken into the Reform Club. Last -night, I dined at a Bohemian Club, the famous Savage Club, with Healy -and one or two Parnellites, (having previously lunched with several -of the Conservatives, Lord Stanhope and Seton-Carr, and others). -The contrast was most amusing, but I like Healy immensely. Later on -I met a brother of Stanhope’s who is a radical, and listened to a -most savage discussion with a young fellow named Foster, a nephew of -the late Secretary of Ireland, who has also been very polite to me. -I have enjoyed going to the House of Commons under the guidance of -Bryce, the historian, and a dear old Conservative member named Hoare, -very greatly. It is amusing to see the Conservatives, fresh-looking, -well-built, thoroughly well-dressed gentlemen, honest and plucky but -absolutely unable to grapple with the eighty odd, erratic Parnellite -Irishmen. The last named, by the way, I know well of old,--I have met -them in the New York Legislature!” - -These comments by the young man of twenty-eight are along the line of -comments made much later when almost all of his reactions to the men -named or suggested had come true. The travellers were more than glad to -get back to their native land, and by the early summer were settled at -Sagamore Hill, to begin there the beautiful family life which grew in -richness up to the moment of my brother’s death. - -June 8, 1887, he writes from Sagamore, describing amusingly his efforts -to become a polo-player. He has often expressed his own feeling about -sports--he loved them, enjoyed his hunting and other athletic exercises -to the full, but they were always a relaxation, never a pursuit with -him. “Frank Underhill and I ride industriously around the field and -brandish our mallets so as to foster the delusion among simple folk -that we likewise are playing polo. Two other would-be players also -come now and then; but as they have not yet even learned to sit on -horseback and strike the ball simultaneously, and, after trial, having -found it impracticable to do so alternately, our games are generally -duels. Yesterday, I beat Frank two out of three--and in addition, stood -on my head on the sward in the enthusiasm of one mêlée where we got -rather mixed. Day before yesterday, I rowed Edith to Lloyd’s Neck, -portaged across--at low tide, the hardest work I ever did almost,--into -Huntington Harbor, then rowed out into the Sound. We took our lunch -and some volumes of Thackeray. It was an ideal day--but wasn’t I stiff -and blistered next morning! Do come soon and stay as long as possible. -Yours as ever, Theodore Roosevelt.” - -During that same summer I took my little niece Alice, with my children, -to our old home on the Mohawk Hills for a change of air, and he writes -me in his usual loving way of his warm appreciation of the pleasure I -was giving the child, and sends his love to the little “yellow-haired -darling,” and incidentally, in the letters, says his book “Morris -[”Gouverneur Morris“] goes drearily on by fits and starts, and in the -intervals, I chop vigorously and have lovely rowing excursions”; and so -the happy summer wore to its close and was crowned in September by the -birth of his first boy, the third Theodore Roosevelt. He describes with -amusement little Alice’s remark--“a truthful remark,” he says--“_My -little brother_ is a howling polly parrot.” All through the letter one -realizes his joy and pride in his firstborn son, and shortly after -that, in December of the same year, he writes me to congratulate me on -the birth of my second son, Monroe, and says: “How glad I am that Ted, -Junior, has a future playmate. Just won’t they quarrel, though!” - -Owing to the fact that in my brother’s own biography he describes -fully his work as civil service commissioner, police commissioner, and -assistant secretary of the navy, I do not purport to give a detailed -account of his labors, especially as during the period that he served -in the first position, I have comparatively few letters from him, and -it was not until he returned to New York in the second capacity that -I saw as much of him as usual. One winter, however, we had a most -characteristic intercourse. I do not remember exactly the date of -that winter. I had married young, my children had been born in rapid -succession, and owing to the delicacy of my health just before I was -grown up, I was conscious of the fact that I was not as grounded in -certain studies, especially American history, as I should have been, -and I found myself with a very slim knowledge of the most important -facts of my nation’s birth and early growth. The consequence was that -when my brother returned for a brief period to New York, I decided to -consult him as to how best to study American History, thinking perhaps -that I might go to Columbia College or something of that kind. - -I began my effort for information by saying: “Theodore, I really know -very little about American history.” I can see the flash in his eyes -as he turned to me. “What do you mean?” he said; “it’s disgraceful for -any woman not to know the history of her own country.” “I know it is,” -I replied, “and that is just why I am consulting you about it. I know -you feel I ought to know all about American history, but I also know -that you preach large families, and you must remember that I have done -my best in that direction in these last five years, and now I am ready -to study American history!” “Do you mean really to study?” he said, -looking at me sternly. “Just as really to study as whooping-cough, -measles, chicken-pox, and other family pleasures will allow,” I said. -“Well,” he replied, still sternly, and not laughing at my sally, “if -you really mean to study, I will teach you myself. I will come at -nine o’clock every week on Tuesday and Friday for one hour, if you -will be ready promptly and give me all your attention.” Needless to -say, I was enchanted at the thought, and, true to his word, the busy -man came at nine o’clock every Tuesday and Friday for several months, -and in my library at 422 Madison Avenue I was ready with note-book -and blackboard, and he lectured to me for that hour twice a week as -if I were a matriculating class at Harvard College. I have now many -of the notes he made for me at that time, and I shall always remember -the painstaking way in which he drew the battle-fields, and explained -how “one commander came up in this position at just the right moment -and saved the day,” or how the lack of preparedness ruined many a -courageous adventure. These quiet hours come back to me with a rush of -recollection as I write, and I am proud to think that he felt it was -worth while to give me such instruction. Once I said to him: “How can -you do this, Theodore; how can you take the time to study for these -lectures?” “Oh!” he said, “I do not have to study; I could not, of -course, give quite as much time as that. You see, I just happen to know -my American history.” He certainly did “happen to know” his American -history, as was proved in many a controversy later in his life. His -American history and, indeed, the history of almost every other country -of the world were all at his finger-tips. - -During his civil service commissionership, a period of a number of -years, the letters were few and far between, but I have one dated -July 28, 1889, in which he writes: “Struggle as I will, my life seems -to grow more and more sedentary, and as for my polo, it is one of -the things that _has_ been; witness the enclosed check which is for -Cranford, and I am trying to sell Diamond too;--how I hate to give it -up! We have had lovely days this summer, however, at Sagamore. I took -all the children down on the pond once, and made them walk out on a -half-sunken log, where they perched like so many sand-snipes. I am -leaving for the West soon to have a whack at the bears in the Rockies; -I am so out of training that I look forward with acute physical -terror to going up the first mountain. [He seems for the moment to -have forgotten that his life was growing very “sedentary.”] I have -mortally hated being so much away from home this summer, but I am very -glad I took the place [civil service commissionership] and I have -really enjoyed my work. I feel it incumbent on me to try to amount to -something, either in politics or literature because I have deliberately -given up the idea of going into a money-making business. Of course, -however, my political life is but an interlude--it is quite impossible -to continue long to do much between two sets of such kittle-kattle as -the spoilsmen and the mugwumps.” - -The seed of the birth of the Progressive party of 1912 was sown by that -feeling of Theodore Roosevelt of the difficulty to do much “between -two sets such as the spoilsmen and the mugwumps.” The honest effort -to play honest politics for honest purposes and practical ideals was -the stimulating idea translated into action in that great attempt for -better government called the Progressive party; but this letter of the -young Civil Service Commissioner was written in 1889, and it was not -until twenty-three years later that the seed fructified into a movement -which, had it succeeded, would, I verily believe, have changed the fate -of the world. - -But to return to the Civil Service Commission. He gave faithful effort -and all his intelligence to the improvement of that important service, -and often had the sensation, which he was doomed to have in so many of -his positions, that he was more or less beating his head against the -wall. He sent me at that time a copy of a letter to the Civil Service -Commissioners from an applicant who had been summoned to an examination -and had not appeared. To show the ignorance of some of the applicants, -I cannot resist quoting from the letter. - - Alabama Mobile October 6, 1890. - - _To the Comishers of Sivel Serves_, - - My dear brothers: I am very sorry that I could not Meet you on the - day you said but gentlemen, i am glad of the cause that kept me - away. Let me tell you Mr. Comisher, i hav bin mard five years antel - the Other Da me and my wife hav bin the onley mbrs en ow Famly. - Well Sir on the Da before youre examnenashun My Wife Had a Kupple - ov tuins, gest think of it, Mr. Comischer--and of course i couddnt - go off and Leave her and them. i just staid home and we had a - sellabration--and i invited all my friends to dinner. i wish you - had been thare. i Hope i can be thare next time Mr. Comischer. - - Very truly yours. - -I remember my brother saying humorously that, after all, that -particular gentleman might just as well have stayed away with his -“tuins” and “sellabration,” as he really doubted whether he could have -passed the “examnenashun” had he appeared! - - - - -VI - -THE ELKHORN RANCH AND NEAR-ROUGHING IT IN YELLOWSTONE PARK - - From the cloistered life of American college boys, sheltered from - the ruder currents of the world by the ramparts of wealth and - gentle nurture, he passed, still very young, to the wild and free - existence of the plains and the hills. In the silence of those - vast solitudes men grow to full stature, when the original stuff - is good. He came back to the East, bringing with him, as Tennyson - sang, “The wrestling thews that throw the world.” --From a - speech by John Hay. - - O lover of the things God made-- - Hill, valley, mountain, plain: - The lightning from the darkened cloud, - The storm-burst with its rain. - - --Roosevelt, “Hymn of Molokai.” - - -My brother has written so much about his own ranch, and has given so -vivid a description in his autobiography of the life led there, of the -wonderful stretches of the Bad Lands, of the swaying cottonwood-trees, -and the big fireplace in the Elkhorn Ranch sitting-room, around -which he and his fellow ranchers gathered, exhausted by a long day’s -cattle-herding or deer-hunting, that it hardly seems possible that I -can add much to the picture already painted by his own facile hand: -ranch life, however, viewed from the standpoint of the outsider or from -that of the insider has a different quality, and thus no reminiscences -of mine would be in any way complete were I not to describe my first -delightful visit paid to Medora, Dakota, and the surrounding country, -in 1890. Our party consisted of my brother and sister-in-law, my -sister Mrs. Cowles, then Anna Roosevelt, our friend Robert Munro -Ferguson, my husband and myself, and young George Cabot Lodge. The -latter was the sixteen-year-old son of our valued friend Senator -Henry Cabot Lodge, and was truly the “gifted son of a gifted father,” -for later he was not only to earn fame as a poet, well known to his -countrymen, but in his brief life--for alas! he died in the summer of -1909--his talents were recognized in other lands as well. - -I had been prepared by many tales for the charm and freedom and -informal ease of life in the Bad Lands, and had often dreamed of going -there; but, unlike most dreams, this one came true in an even more -enchanting fashion than I had dared hope. Many had been the letters -that my brother had written to me from Elkhorn Ranch several years -previous to our journey. In June, 1886, he wrote: “I have never once -had breakfast as late as four o’clock. Have been in the saddle all day, -and have worked like a beaver, and am as rugged and happy as possible. -While I do not see any very great future ahead, yet, if things go on -as they are now going and have gone for the past three years, I think -that each year I will net enough money to pay a good interest on the -capital, and yet be adding slowly to my herd all the time. I think I -have more than my capital on the ground, and this year I ought to be -able to sell between two and three hundred head of steer and dry stock. -I wish I could see all of you, but I certainly do enjoy the life. The -other day while dining at the de Mores I had some cherries, the only -fruit I have had since I left New York. I have lived pretty roughly.” - -I quote the above simply to show, what is not always understood, that -my brother’s ranching venture was, from his standpoint, a perfectly -just business enterprise, and, had not the extraordinarily severe -winters intervened, his capital would not have been impaired. Writing -that same summer, shortly after hearing of the birth of my baby girl, -he says in his loving way: - -“My own darling Pussie, my sweetest little sister: How can I tell you -the joy I felt when I received Douglas’ first telegram; but I had not -the heart to write you until I received the second the good old boy -sent me, and knew you were all right. Just to think of there being a -second wee, new Pussie in this big world! How I shall love to pet and -prize the little thing! It will be very, very dear to Uncle Teddy’s -heart, which is quite large enough, however, not to lose an atom of -affection for Teddy Douglas, the blessed little scamp. I have thought -of you all the time for the last few weeks, and you can hardly imagine -how overjoyed and relieved I felt, my own darling sister. I hope the -little new Pussie will grow up like her dear mother, and that she will -have many many loving ones as fond of her as her irrelevant old cowboy -uncle is of Pussie, Senior. Will you be very much offended if I ask -whether she now looks like a little sparsely-haired, pink polyp? My own -offspring, when in tender youth, closely resembled a trilobite of pulpy -consistency and shadowy outline. You dearest Pussie,--you know I am -just teasing you, and how proud and fond I am of the little thing even -when I have never seen it. I wish I was where I could shake old Douglas -by the hand and kiss you again and again. - -“Today I went down to Dickerman to make the Fourth of July speech to a -great crowd of cowboys and rangers, and after, stayed to see the horse -races between the cowboys and Indians.” - -In another letter about the same time: “If I was not afraid of being -put down as cold-blooded, I should say that I honestly miss greatly and -all the time, and think lovingly of all you dear ones, yet I really -enjoy this life. I have managed to combine an outdoor life possessing -much variety and excitement, and now and then a little adventure, with -a literary life also. Three out of four days I spend the morning and -evening in the Ranch house writing, and working at various pieces of -writing I have now on hand. They may come to nothing, however; but on -the other hand they may succeed; at any rate, I am doing some honest -work whatever the result is and I am really pretty philosophical about -success or failure now. It often amuses me when I indirectly hear that -I am supposed to be harboring secret and bitter regret for my political -career, when, as a matter of fact, I have hardly ever, when alone, -given two thoughts to it since it closed, and have been quite as much -wrapped up in hunting, ranching, and book-making as I ever was in -Politics. Give my best love to wee Teddy and dear old Douglas; do you -know, I have an excessively warm feeling for your respected spouse. I -have always admired Truth, Loyalty, and Courage; and though I am really -having a lovely life, just the life I care for, please be sure that I -am always thinking of my own, darling sister, whom I love so much and -so tenderly. Ever your affectionate brother, Thee.” - -On August 7 of the same year he wrote again after having paid a brief -visit to the East, and returned to Dakota: “Blessed little Pussie; -Mother of an increasing and vocal Israel, I did enjoy my two visits to -my dear sister, and that dear old piece of peripatetic bric-à-brac, her -Caledonian spouse. Everything here is much as usual. The boys were, -as always, genuinely glad to see me. I am greatly attached to the -Ranch and the life out here, and am really fond of the men. It is in -many ways ideal; we are so very rarely able to, actually and in real -life, dwell in our ideal ‘hero land.’ The loneliness and freedom, and -the half-adventurous nature of existence out here, appeals to me very -powerfully.... Merrifield and I are now busily planning our hunt in the -mountains.” - -Such letters as the above filled the members of his family with a -strong desire to participate to some degree, at least, in the life -which he loved so dearly; but the births of various small members of -the family rendered such participation impossible until the late summer -of 1890. - -After a brief visit to St. Paul, Minn., we took train for Medora. -My brother had heralded the fact that I (then a young woman of -twenty-eight) was a mighty rider (I had followed the Essex County -hounds in New Jersey)! And the cowboys were quite sure, I think, that -I would leap from the locomotive to the back of a bucking bronco. Our -train drew up, or I should say, approximately drew up, to the little -station at Medora at four o’clock in the morning, in one of the most -frightful storms that I ever remember. Rain fell in torrents, and we -had to get out on an embankment composed of such slippery mud that -before we actually plodded to the station, our feet and legs were -encased in glutinous slime; but the calls of the cowboys undauntedly -rang out in the darkness, and the neighing of horses and prancing of -hoofs made us realize that civilization as well as convention was a -thing of the past. Will Merrifield, the superintendent of Elkhorn -Ranch, and Sylvane Ferris, his able lieutenant, fully expected me to -mount the extremely dangerous-looking little animal which they held by -a loose rope, and they were inordinately disappointed when I pleaded -the fatigue of two nights on the train, and begged that I might drive -with the other less-adventurous ladies to the ranch-house, forty -miles away. Before starting on this long trip we were entertained by -Joe Ferris, the brother of Sylvane, who having once also been one of -Theodore’s cowboys, had now decided upon a more sober type of life as -storekeeper in the little town of Medora. Joe and his wife were most -hospitable, and above his shop in their own rooms we were given a nice -warm breakfast and an equally warm welcome. After breakfast, we came -down to the shop, where our luggage had already been gathered, and -there we began to sort what we would take to the Ranch and what we -would leave. This required a certain amount of packing and unpacking, -and I was on my knees “madly thrusting,” as “Alice in Wonderland” puts -it, “a right-hand foot into a left-hand shoe” when Joe came up to me -and said: “Mrs. Douglas (they all decided to call me Mrs. Douglas, as -more informal than Mrs. Robinson), it ain’t worth while for you to tire -yourself like that when the best packer in all Dakota is standin’ in -the doorway.” I looked up and sure enough a huge man, who might have -just walked out of one of Bret Harte’s novels, _was_ “standin’ in the -doorway.” “There he is,” continued Joe; “that’s Hell-Roarin’ Bill, the -sheriff of the county; you heard tell of how he caught that lunatic; -well, Bill’s the best ladies’ packer that ever was, and you had better -leave all your bags to him to arrange.” Fearing that “Bill” might be -offended if I did not use him in the capacity of a French maid, and -having frequently been told of the rapid results of hurt feelings on -the part of “Bill,” I suavely called him to my side, and telling him of -the wonderful reputation which I had heard he enjoyed, I immediately -put my wardrobe in his care, and to my infinite surprise the huge -backwoodsman measured up to his reputation. Very soon the cavalcade was -ready, the rain had ceased to fall in such torrents, the half-misty -quality in the air lent a softer beauty to the arid landscape, and -a sense of adventure was the finishing touch to our expectations as -we started for Elkhorn Ranch. My disappointed friends, Merrifield -and Sylvane, said that “they did not believe that Mrs. Douglas would -like drivin’ with a ‘shotgun team’ much better than ridin’ a buckin’ -bronco, but, of course, if she _thought_ she wanted to go that way, -she could.” An hour later “Mrs. Douglas” somewhat regretted her choice -of progression; true enough, it _was_ a shotgun team attached to that -springless wagon in which we sat! The horses had never been hitched up -together before, and their methods of motion were entirely at odds. -The cowboy driver, however, managed eventually to get them started, -and from that moment our progress, though irrelevant, was rapid beyond -words. - -We forded the “Little Missouri” River twenty-three times on the way to -the ranch-house, and as the banks of the river were extremely steep, it -was always a question as to whether we could go fast enough down one -bank to get sufficient impetus to enable us to go through the river -and up the very steep bank on the other side; so that either coming or -going we were in imminent danger of a complete somersault. However, we -did accomplish that long, exhausting, springless drive, and gradually -the buttes rose higher and higher around us, the strange formation -of the Bad Lands, curious in color, became more and more marked, -the cottonwood-trees more plentiful as the river broadened out, and -suddenly we saw buried amidst the trees on the farther side of one of -our fordings the substantially built, cosey-looking house called by my -brother the Elkhorn Ranch. - -In a letter written to my aunt, Mrs. Gracie, from the ranch-house I say: - -“We are having the most delightful time at the Ranch. The little house -is most cosey and comfortable, and Mrs. Merrifield had everything so -neat and sweet for us, and as she has a girl to help her, we really -do not have to rough it at all. We all make our beds and do up our -rooms religiously, but even that they would willingly do for us if we -would let them. We have had three cloudless days, the first of which -was occupied in driving the forty miles down here, and a beautiful -picturesque drive it is, winding in and out through these strange, bold -Buttes, crossing the ‘Little Missouri’ twenty-three times! We ladies -drove, but the men all rode, and very picturesque they looked filing -across the river. We arrived at the Ranch house at twelve o’clock and -ate a splendid dinner of Mrs. Merrifield’s preparing, immediately after -which we climbed up a Butte and walked to Prairie Dog town and saw the -little prairie dogs. We then mounted horses and took a lovely ride, so -you may imagine that we slept well. - -“The next day we were all on horseback soon after breakfast, Ferris -and Merrifield with us, and off we rode; this time with the intention -of seeing Merrifield lasso a steer. When we came to a great bunch -of cattle, the practised eyes of the two men at once discovered an -unbranded heifer, which they immediately decided to lasso and brand. -It was very exciting. Merrifield threw the rope, cleverly catching -its legs, and then threw the heifer, which was almost the size of a -cow, and then Ferris tied another rope around its neck. The ends of -the ropes were slipped over the pommels of two ponies who, in the most -sensible way, held the heifer while the two men built a little fire -and heated the cinch ring with which they branded the creature. It was -all intensely picturesque. In the afternoon, we again rode out to be -with the men while they drove the deer on the bottom, and Merrifield -shot one; so you see, we have had very typical experiences, especially -at the round-up yesterday.” - -Happy days, indeed, they were, full of varied excitements. Merrifield’s -little boy, Frank, only eleven years old, was the chief factor in -finding the herd of ponies in the morning, for it was the custom to -let them loose after twilight. Many and many a time I would hear him -unslip the halter of the one small pony (“Little Moke” by name) which -was still tied to the ranch-house steps and on which he would leap -in the early dawn to go to round up the ponies for the day’s work. I -would jump up and look out of the ranch window, and see the independent -little fellow fording the river, starting on his quest, and an hour or -so later the splashing of many feet in the water heralded the approach -of “Little Moke,” his young rider, and the whole bunch of four-legged -friends. - -The relationship between my brother and his men was one of honest -comradeship but of absolute respect, each for the other, and on the -part of the cowboys there was, as well, toward their “Boss,” a certain -reverential attitude in spite of the “man to man” equality. How I loved -that first night that we sat around the fire, when the men, in their -effort to give my brother all the news of the vicinity during his -absence, told the type of tale which has had its equivalent only in -Owen Wister’s “The Virginian.” “There is a sky-pilot a good many miles -from here, Mr. Roosevelt,” said Sylvane, “who’s bringin’ a suit against -you.” Sylvane announced this unpleasant fact with careless gaiety, -stretching his long legs toward the fire. No one was ever so typically -the ideal cowboy of one’s wildest fancy as was Sylvane Ferris. Tall and -slender, with strong fair hair and blue eyes of an almost unnatural -clearness, and a splendid broad brow and aquiline nose, Sylvane -looked the part. His leather chaps, his broad sombrero hat, his red -handkerchief knotted carelessly around his strong, young, sunburned -throat, all made him such a picture that one’s eye invariably followed -him as he rode a vicious pony, “wrastled” a calf, roped a steer, or -branded a heifer; but now sitting lazily by the fire, such activities -seemed a thing of the past, and Sylvane was ready for an hour’s gossip. - -“A sky-pilot? Why should a sky-pilot bring suit against me?” said my -brother laughingly. [In telling this story he sometimes referred to -this man as a professor.] - -“Well,” said Sylvane, “it was this way, Mr. Roosevelt. You see, we was -all outside the ranch door when up drives the sky-pilot in a buggy. -He was one of them wanderin’ ones that thought he could preach as he -wandered, and just about as he drove up in front of our ranch his horse -went dead lame on him and his old buggy just fell to pieces. He was in -a bad fix, and he said he knew you never would let him be held up like -that, because he had heard you was a good man too, and wouldn’t we lend -him a horse, or send him with the team to the next place he was going -to, some forty miles away. We felt we had to be hospitable-like, with -you so far away and the sky-pilot in such a fix, so we said ‘Yes,’ we -would send him to where he wanted to go, and there he is now, lyin’ in -a hut with one leg broken and one arm nearly wrenched off his body, and -he’s bringin’ suit against you, which ain’t really fair, we think.” - -“What do you mean, Sylvane; what have I got to do with his broken leg -and arm?” said my brother, beginning to feel a trifle nervous. - -“Well, you see, it is this way,” said Sylvane; “he says we sent him to -where he is with a runaway team and he was thrown out and broken up in -pieces-like; but we says how could that team we sent him with _be_ a -runaway team--how _could_ a team be called a runaway team when one of -the horses ain’t never been hitched up before, and the other ain’t run -away not more’n two or three times; but I guess sky-pilots are always -unreasonable!” - -This conclusion seemed to satisfy Sylvane entirely; the unfortunate -condition of the much-battered sky-pilot aroused no sympathy in his -adamantine heart, nor did he feel that the sky-pilot had the slightest -cause for his suit, which later was settled in a satisfactory manner, -but the conversation was typical of that evening’s ranch news by the -big wood-fire. - -Our day at the round-up was one of the most fascinating days of my -life, and I was proud to see that my city-bred brother was as agile and -as active in the duties of rounding up the great steers of the plains -as were the men brought up from their babyhood to such activities. -We lunched at midday with the roundup wagon; rough life, indeed, but -wonderfully invigorating, and as we returned in the evening, galloping -over the grassy plateaus of the high buttes, I realized fully that -the bridle-path would never again have for me the charm it once had -had. Nothing in the way of riding has ever been so enchanting, and -the curious formation of the Bad Lands, picturesque, indeed, almost -grotesque in line, in conjunction with the wonderful climate of that -period of the year and the mingling of tints in the sunset sky, -resulted in a quality of color and atmosphere the like of which I only -remember in Egypt, and made as lasting an impression upon my memory as -did the land of the Nile. - -During our stay, my original failure to leap, on my arrival, “from -the locomotive to the back of a bucking bronco” had more or less been -effaced from the memory of the cowboys by subsequent adventures, and -the last day that we spent under the cottonwood-trees, by the banks of -the Little Missouri, was made significant by the “surprise” gotten up -by Merrifield and Sylvane for the special edification of my brother -and husband. The surprise took the form of the “wrastling” of a calf -by no less a person than myself! Merrifield had taught me to rope an -animal, Sylvane had shown me with praiseworthy regularity the method -of throwing a calf, and the great occasion was heralded amongst the -other members of the party by an invitation to sit on the fence of the -corral at three o’clock, the last afternoon of our visit to Elkhorn, -and thus witness the struggle between a young woman of the East and -a bovine denizen of the Western prairies. The corral, a plot of very -muddy ground (having been watered by a severe rain the night before), -was walled in by a fence, and generally used when we wished to keep -the ponies from straying. On this occasion, however, it was emptied -of all _but_ the calf, which was to be the object of my efforts and -prowess. I was then introduced by Merrifield, very much as the circus -rider used to be introduced in the early Barnum and Bailey days; -then followed a most gruelling pantomime; the calf, which was of an -unusually unpleasant size, galloped around the corral and I, knee-deep -in mud, galloped after it, and finally succeeded in achieving the -first necessity, which was to rope it around the neck. After that, the -method of procedure was as follows: The “wrastler”--on this occasion -my unfortunate self--was supposed to get close enough to the animal in -question to throw himself or herself across the back of the galloping -calf, with the purpose of catching the left leg of the animal, the leg, -in fact, farthest away from one’s right arm. If this deed could be -accomplished and the leg forcibly bent under the calf, both calf and -rider would go down in an inextricable heap, and the “wrastling” of the -calf would be complete. - -I can feel now the mud in my boots as I floundered with agonized effort -after that energetic animal. I can still sense the strain in every -nerve of my body as I finally flung myself across its back, and still, -also, as if it were only yesterday, do I remember the jellied sensation -within me, as for some torturing minutes I lay across the heifer’s -spine, before, by a final Herculean effort, I caught that left leg with -my right arm. The cries of “stay with him!” from the fence, the loud -hand-clapping of the enthusiastic cowboys, the shrieks of laughter of -my brother and my husband, all still ring in my ears, and when the -deed was finally accomplished, when the calf, with one terrible lurch, -actually “wrastled,” so to speak, fell over on its head in the mud, -all sensation left me and I only remember being lifted up, bruised and -encased in an armor of oozing dirt, and being carried triumphantly on -the shoulders of the cowboys into the ranch-house, having redeemed, in -their opinion, at least, the reputation which my brother had given me -before I visited the Bad Lands. - -Years later, when the young owner of Elkhorn Ranch had reached the -higher estate of President of the United States, I, as the sister of -the President, was receiving with my sister-in-law at the breakfast -in the White House, at his Inaugural in 1905, and was attired in my -best black velvet gown and “presidential sister” white plumes; I was -surrounded by senators and ambassadors, when suddenly, coming toward -me, I recognized the lithe figure of my brother’s quondam cowboy, Will -Merrifield. He, too, had climbed the rungs of the ladder of fame, and -now, as marshal of Montana, he had been intrusted by the State of -Montana with the greetings of that state for the newly inaugurated -President. Coming toward me with a gay smile of recognition, he shook -me warmly by the hand and said: “Well, now, Mrs. Douglas, it’s a sight -for sore eyes to see you again; why, almost the last time I laid eyes -on you, you were standing on your head in that muddy corral with your -legs waving in the air.” Senators and ambassadors seemed somewhat -surprised, but Will Merrifield and the President’s sister shook hands -gaily together, and reminisced over one of the latter’s most thrilling -life victories. But to return to our farewell to Elkhorn Ranch in 1890. - - * * * * * - -The three weeks’ visit to the ranch-house had passed on fleet wings, -and it was a very sad little party that turned its face toward Medora -again, in preparation for the specially planned trip to Yellowstone -Park. Theodore Roosevelt, as one may well imagine, was making a very -real concession to family affection by arranging this trip for us and -accompanying us upon it. What he loved was roughing it; near-roughing -it was not his “métier,” nor, frankly, was it his “métier” to arrange -a _comfortable_ trip of any kind. He loved wild places and wild -companions, hard tramps and thrilling adventure, and to be a part -of the type of trip which women who were not accustomed to actual -hunting could take, was really an act of unselfishness on his part. -We paid huge sums for no comforts, and although supposed to go--as we -were riding--where the ordinary travellers in stage-coach could not -go in Yellowstone Park, yet there _were_ times when we seemed to be -constantly camping in the vicinity of tomato cans! - -I write again to my aunt two weeks after we start our Yellowstone -experiences: - -“We have had a most delightful two weeks’ camping and have enjoyed -every moment. The weather has been cloudless, and though the nights -were cold, we were only really uncomfortable one night. We were all in -the best of health and the best of spirits, and ate without a murmur -the strange meals of ham, tomatoes, greasy cakes and coffee prepared -by our irresistible Chinese cook. Breakfast and dinner were always the -same, and lunch was generally bread and cheese carried in our pockets -and eaten by the wayside. We have really had great comfort, however, -and have enjoyed the pretense of roughing it and the delicious, free, -open-air life hugely,--and such scenery! Nothing in my estimation can -equal in unique beauty the Yellowstone canyon, the wonderful shapes -of the rocks, some like peaks and turrets, others broken in strange -fantastic jags, and then the marvellous colors of them all. Pale greens -and yellows, vivid reds and orange, salmon pinks and every shade of -brown are strewn with a lavish hand over the whole Canyon,--and the -beautiful Falls are so foamy and white, and leap with such exultation -from their rocky ledge 360 feet down. - -“We had one really exciting ride. We had undertaken too long an -expedition, namely, the ascent of Mt. Washburn, and then to Towers’ -Falls in one day, during which, to add to the complications, Edith had -been thrown and quite badly bruised. We found ourselves at Towers’ -Falls at six o’clock in the evening instead of at lunch time, and -realized we were still sixteen miles from Camp, and a narrow trail -only to lead us back, a trail of which our guide was not perfectly -sure. We galloped as long as there was light, but the sun soon set over -the wonderful mountains, and although there was a little crescent moon, -still, it soon grew very dark and we had to keep close behind each -other, single file, and go very carefully as the trail lay along the -mountainside. Often we had to traverse dark woods and trust entirely -to the horses, who behaved beautifully and stepped carefully over the -fallen logs. Twice, Dodge, our guide, lost the trail, and it gave one -a very eerie feeling, but he found it again and on we went. Once at -about 11 P. M., Theodore suggested stopping and making a great fire, -and waiting until daylight to go on, for he was afraid that we would -be tired out, but we all preferred to continue, and about 11:30, to -our great joy, we heard the roar of the Falls and suddenly came out -on the deep Canyon, looking very wonderful and mysterious in the dim -starlight. We reached our Camp after twelve o’clock, having been -fifteen hours away from it, thirteen and a half of which we had been in -the saddle. It was really an experience.” - -It was a hazardous ride and I did not terrify my aunt by some of the -incidents such as the severe discomfort suffered by Mrs. Theodore -Roosevelt when she was thrown and narrowly escaped a broken back, and -when a few hours later my own horse sank in a quicksand and barely -recovered himself in time to struggle to terra firma again, not to -mention the dangers of the utter darkness when the small, dim crescent -moon faded from the horizon. My brother was the real leader of the -cavalcade, for the guide, Ira Dodge, proved singularly incompetent. -Theodore kept up our flagging spirits, exhausted as we were by the long -rough day in the saddle, and although furious with Dodge because of his -ignorance of the trail through which he was supposed to guide us, he -still gave us the sense of confidence, which is one’s only hope on such -an adventure. Looking back over that camping trip in the Yellowstone, -the prominent figure of the whole holiday was, of course, my brother. -He was a boy in his tricks and teasing, crawling under the tent flaps -at night, pretending to be the unexpected bear which we always dreaded. -He was a real inspiration in his knowledge of the fauna and birds -of the vicinity and his willingness to give us the benefit of that -knowledge. - -I find in my diary of that excursion a catalogue of the birds and -other animals which he himself had pointed out to me, making me -marvel again at the rapid observation which he had made part of his -physical equipment. I note: “During the first four days we have been -in the Park, we have seen chipmunk, red squirrel, little black bear, -elk watering with the horses, muskrat in the streams, golden eagle, -Peregrine falcon and other varieties, red-tailed hawk and pigeon hawk, -Clark’s crow, Canada jay, raven, bittern, Canada goose, mallard and -teal ducks, chicadee, nuthatch, dwarf-thrush, robin, water oozel, -sunbird, longspur, grass finch, yellow-crowned warbler, Rocky Mountain -white-throated sparrow, song-sparrow, and wren.” - -Each one of the above I saw with the eyes of Theodore Roosevelt, and -can still hear the tones of his voice as he described to me their -habits of life and the differences between them and others of their -kind. To him this trip must, of necessity, have been somewhat dull, -based as it was upon the companionship of three women who were not -hunters; but never once during those weeks did he seem anything but -happy, and as far as we were concerned, to see the beauties of nature -through those ardent eyes, to hear the bird-notes through those ears, -attuned to each song, and to listen constantly to his stories of wood -and plain, his interpretation of the lives of those mighty pioneer men -of the West--all of this comes back to me, as a rare experience which -I have gladly stored away in what Emerson calls “the amber of memory.” -How we laughed over the strange rules and regulations of the park! -Fierce bears were trapped, but could not be killed without the kind -permission of one of the secretaries in Washington, the correspondence -on the subject affording my brother infinite amusement. _His_ methods -under like circumstances would have been so very different! - -The experiences at Elkhorn Ranch and again in the Yellowstone Park -were of special benefit to me from the standpoint of the comprehension -which they gave me of the absolute sympathy which my brother felt both -with the nature and the human nature of the great West. No period of -the life of Theodore Roosevelt seems to me quite as important, in -the influence which it was to bear upon his future usefulness to his -country, as was that period in which, as man to man, he shared the -vigorous work and pastimes of the men of that part of our country. -Had he not actually lived the life not only of the hunter and -cattleman, but had he not taken actual part as sheriff in the methods -of government of that part of our country, he would never have been -able to interpret the spirit of the West as he did. He would never -have been recognized _as_ such an interpreter, and when the time came -that America could no longer look from an uninterested distance at the -Spanish iniquities in Cuba, the fact that Theodore Roosevelt had become -so prominent a figure in the West proved the essential factor in the -flocking to his standard of that mass of virile manhood which, under -his leadership, and that of the then army doctor, Leonard Wood, became -the picturesque, well-known “Rough Rider” Volunteer Cavalry of the -Spanish-American War. - -At Elkhorn Ranch, also, the long silences and stretches of solitude had -much to do with the mental growth of the young man. There he read and -wrote and thought deeply. His old guide Bill Sewall was asked not long -since about his opinion of my brother as a religious man. His answer -was as follows: “I think he read the Bible a great deal. I never saw -him in formal prayer, but as prayer is the desire of the heart, I think -he prayed without ceasing, for the desire of his heart was always to -do right.” Thus, sharing the hardships and the joys of their primitive -life with his comrades of the West, the young rancher became an -integral part of that country, which never failed to rouse in him the -spirit of high adventure and romance. - -Theodore Roosevelt, himself, in a letter to John Hay, written long -after our visit to his ranch and our gay excursion to the Yellowstone, -describes the men of that part of the world. He was taking an extended -trip, as President, in 1903, on the first part of which journey Mr. Hay -had accompanied him, and at Oyster Bay, on his return, he writes to his -secretary of state in order to give him further details of the trip: - -“From Washington, I turned southward, and when I struck northern -Montana, again came to my old stamping grounds and among my old -friends. I met all kinds of queer characters with whom I had hunted and -worked and slept and sometimes fought. From Helena, I went southward to -Butte, reaching that city in the afternoon of May 27th. By this time, -Seth Bullock had joined us, together with an old hunting friend, John -Willis, a Donatello of the Rocky Mountains,--wholly lacking, however, -in that morbid self-consciousness which made Hawthorne’s ‘faun’ go out -of his head because he had killed a man. Willis and I had been in Butte -some seventeen years before, at the end of a hunting trip in which we -got dead broke, so that when we struck Butte, we slept in an outhouse -and breakfasted heartily in a two-bit Chinese restaurant. Since then I -had gone through Butte in the campaign of 1900, the major part of the -inhabitants receiving me with frank hostility, and enthusiastic cheers -for Bryan. - -“However, Butte is mercurial, and its feelings had changed. The wicked, -wealthy, hospitable, full-blooded, little city, welcomed me with wild -enthusiasm of a disorderly kind. The mayor, Pat Mullins, was a huge, -good-humored creature, wearing, for the first time in his life, a top -hat and a frock coat, the better to do honor to the President. - -“National party lines counted very little in Butte where the fight -was Heinze and anti-Heinze, Ex-Senator Carter and Senator Clark being -in the opposition. Neither side was willing to let the other have -anything to do with the celebration, and they drove me wild with their -appeals, until I settled that the afternoon parade and speech was -to be managed by the Heinze group of people, and the evening speech -by the anti-Heinze people; and that the dinner should contain fifty -of each faction and should be presided over in his official capacity -by the mayor. The ordinary procession, in barouches, was rather more -exhilarating than usual, and reduced the faithful secret service men -very nearly to the condition of Bedlamites. The crowd was filled with -whooping enthusiasm and every kind of whiskey, and in their desire to -be sociable, broke the lines and jammed right up to the carriage.... -Seth Bullock, riding close beside the rear wheel of my carriage, for -there were hosts of so-called ‘rednecks’ or ‘dynamiters’ in the crowd, -was such a splendid looking fellow with his size and supple strength, -his strangely marked aquiline face, with its big moustache, and the -broad brim of his soft dark hat drawn down over his dark eyes. However, -no one made a motion to attack me.... - -“My address was felt to be honor enough for one hotel, so the dinner -was given in the other. When the dinner was announced, the Mayor led -me in!--to speak more accurately, tucked me under one arm and lifted -me partially off the ground so that I felt as if I looked like one of -those limp dolls with dangling legs, carried around by small children, -like Mary Jane in the ‘Gollywogs,’ for instance. As soon as we got in -the banquet hall and sat at the end of the table, the Mayor hammered -lustily with the handle of his knife and announced, ‘Waiter, bring on -the feed.’ Then, in a spirit of pure kindliness, ‘Waiter, pull up the -curtains and let the people see the President eat’;--but to this, I -objected. The dinner was soon in full swing, and it was interesting in -many respects. Besides my own party, including Seth Bullock and Willis, -there were fifty men from each of the Butte factions. - -“In Butte, every prominent man is a millionaire, a gambler, or a labor -leader, and generally he has been all three. Of the hundred men who -were my hosts, I suppose at least half had killed their man in private -war or had striven to compass the assassination of an enemy. They had -fought one another with reckless ferocity. They had been allies and -enemies in every kind of business scheme, and companions in brutal -revelry. As they drank great goblets of wine, the sweat glistened on -their hard, strong, crafty faces. They looked as if they had come out -of the pictures in Aubrey Beardsley’s Yellow Book. The millionaires had -been laboring men once, the labor leaders intended to be millionaires -in their turn, or else to pull down all who were. They had made money -in mines, had spent it on the races, in other mines or in gambling and -every form of vicious luxury, but they were strong men for all that. -They had worked, and striven, and pushed, and trampled, and had always -been ready, and were ready now, to fight to the death in many different -kinds of conflicts. They had built up their part of the West, they were -men with whom one had to reckon if thrown in contact with them.... But -though most of them hated each other, they were accustomed to take -their pleasure when they could get it, and they took it fast and hard -with the meats and wines.” - -The above description by the pen of my brother is the most vivid that -could be given of a certain type of man of the West. The types were -many.... The Sylvane Ferrises and the Will Merrifields were as bold and -resourceful as these inhabitants of the city of Butte and its vicinity, -but for the former, life was an adventure in which the spirit of beauty -and kindness had its share in happy contrast to the aims and objects of -the men described by my brother in this extraordinary pen-picture. The -picture is so forcibly painted that it brings before one’s mind, almost -as though it were an actual stage-setting, this type of American, who -would appear to be a belated brother of the men of the barbaric period -of the Middle Ages in the Old World, in their case, however, rendered -even more formidable by a New World enterprise and acumen, strangely -unlike what has ever been produced before. - -It was because of his knowledge of just such men, and of the fact that -they knew, although his aims were so different and his ideals so alien -to theirs, that the courage of his mental and physical equipment could -meet them on their own ground, that Theodore Roosevelt was respected -and admired, although sometimes hated, by this type of humanity so -opposed to the goals, actual and spiritual, for which he worked so -faithfully during his whole valiant existence. They knew him for what -he was, and feared him for the qualities which he possessed in common -with them, and even more for the traits that they did not understand, -and which, to them, made him inevitably and forever “The Mysterious -Stranger.” - - - - -VII - -TWO RECREANT NEW YORK POLICEMEN - - Who serves her truly, sometimes saves the state. - - --Arthur Hugh Clough. - - There is sprung up a light for the righteous; and joyful gladness - for such as are true-hearted.--97th Psalm. - - -The years between 1890 and 1896 were busy years, with devoted service -as Civil Service Commissioner, winters at Washington and happy summers -at Oyster Bay, when Theodore Roosevelt gave himself up to family joy -and the activities of the growing children. In 1893 he writes most -lovingly of my children and his--his never-failing sympathy in all the -minor illnesses of my little family, expressed in the most affectionate -terms, and the common sorrow which we both suffered in the loss of our -devoted aunt, Mrs. James Gracie, fills many pages during those years. -We met frequently during the summer-time, and when we met he shared -with me his many Washington experiences, but the letters are largely to -show me his loving interest in the many details of my family life. - -In August, however, he goes a little more fully into some matters of -public interest, and writes: “For the last fortnight, I have virtually -been living with Cabot, for I take all my meals at his house, though I -sleep at my own. [Mrs. Roosevelt and the children were at Oyster Bay.] -After breakfast, an hour spent by Cabot and myself in gloomy discussion -over the folly of the Mug-wumps and the wickedness of the Democrats, -I go to the office and work until four or five o’clock, most of my -work taking the light but not always agreeable shape of a succession -of interviews of varying asperity with Congressmen; then I go to gruff -old Olney’s and play tennis with him and any other stray statesman, -diplomat or military personage whom he has captured for an hour or two. -Sometimes, Cabot and I dine alone; more often, we have in one or two of -our cronies such as Tom Reed or Senator Davis of Minnesota.... I think -the tariff deadlock will break in a day or two, when I shall be left -alone here with so much work on hand, however, that I fear I shall not -get away until the end of the month, when I shall go back to Sagamore -and Edith and the blessed bunnies.” - -The intimacy with Senator Lodge, the charm of his library, where -tradition and intellect always held sway, were amongst the most -delightful associations that Washington gave to my brother during the -many years spent there, both before the days of the White House and -later under its roof. - -Late in August of that year my brother Elliott died. My brother -Theodore came to me at once and we did together the things always so -hard to do connected with the death of those we love, and he writes -me afterward: “The sadness has been tempered by something very sweet -when I think of the way I was with you, my own darling sister.” The -quality of sharing, which, as I always say, was one of his most marked -attributes, never showed more unselfishly than in times of sorrow. -Almost immediately after the above letter, he encloses to me a clipping -from the newspaper of Abingdon, Va., about my brother Elliott, who -had lived there for some time in connection with the property of my -husband in the Virginia mountains. No one, not even my brother Theodore -himself, was ever more loved by those with whom he came in contact than -was the “Ellie” of the early days in 20th Street, and later wherever he -went he found rare and devoted friendship. _The Virginian_ (the name of -the Abingdon paper) says: - -“The New York papers announce the death of Mr. Elliott Roosevelt. This -gentleman has been a member of this community for the past two years, -and although his stay was so brief, it was long enough for him to make -his impress as a whole-souled, genial gentleman, courteous and kind at -all times, with an ever ready cheer for the enterprising or help to the -weak. His name was a byword among the needy, and his charities were -always as abundant as they were unostentatious. He was public spirited -and generous, this much we can truthfully say. His influence and his -aid will be missed, and more frequently than is generally known among -those to whom it was a boon.” - -After speaking of the enclosure, my brother continues: “My thoughts -keep hovering around you, my darling sister, for I know how you loved -Elliott; what a gallant, generous, manly boy he was. So many memories -come back to me.” - -In 1895 he had been appointed police commissioner, and was already in -the thick of the hard fight to reform the Police Department. He writes -in August of that year: “Governor Hill and I have had two savage tilts. -I have not the slightest idea of the ultimate results of our move on -the excise question, but we have made a good fight against heavy odds.” -Perhaps, of all the pieces of work done by my brother, none stands -out more clearly than the splendid achievement of remaking the Police -Department into a fine working body, for which the whole city of New -York had the utmost respect, and on which it leaned for safety and -protection. I have but few letters from him during that period, for, -much to our delight, he was once more in our midst, and many and many -a time would I go down to the old Vienna bakery on the corner of 10th -Street and Broadway, and he would come from Mulberry Street, where his -office was, and together we would sit over the type of lunch he loved -so well: either bread and milk or a squab and _café au lait_. I can -still see Senator Lodge’s expression when he joined us on one of these -simple occasions, and asked in a somewhat saturnine manner whether any -one _could get_ a respectable lunch at the place we loved so well! -What talks we had there over all the extraordinary situations that -arose in the Police Department. There he described to me the delicious -humor of the parade inaugurated by the German brewer societies as a -protest against his enforcement of the law. They were parading to show -their disapproval of him, but at the last moment, as a wonderful piece -of sarcasm, they decided to invite him to review the parade, hardly -thinking that he would accept the invitation. Needless to say, he _did_ -accept it, and leaning over from the platform where he had been invited -to sit, he saw the mass of marching men carrying banners with “Down -with Teddy,” and various other more unpleasant expletives. One company, -as it passed the reviewing-stand, called out: “Wo ist Teddy?” “Hier bin -ich,” called out the police commissioner, leaning over the railing and -flashing his white teeth good-humoredly at the protesting crowd, who, -unable to resist the sunshine of his personality, suddenly turned and, -putting aside the disapproving banners, cheered him to the echo. - -It was during that same time, the story ran, that two recreant -policemen who left their beats at an inopportune moment were called to -the realization of their misdemeanor by coming face to face, in a glass -window-case, with a set of false teeth which, they explained, grinned -at them with a ferocity so reminiscent of the strong molars of the -police commissioner, that they almost fainted at the sight, and hastily -returned to their forsaken duties. Many and many a settlement-worker -told me in those days that they could go anywhere in the most dangerous -parts of the city, during the administration of Theodore Roosevelt, -and the police were always on hand, always ready to protect those who -needed their care. - -At that time also I was amused one day when he told me the story -about his little Irish stenographer, a young girl whose knowledge of -orthography was less than her sympathetic interest in the affairs of -the police commissioner! He took a warm interest in the nice young -Irish girl, hard worker as she was, an important factor in the support -of a large family of younger children, and could not bear to dismiss -her from his service, in spite of her alarming mistakes in spelling. -He said he always had to look over her manuscript and correct it in -spite of his many other cares, and he laughingly remarked that it was -well he did, as having dictated the following sentence in connection -with a certain policeman, “I was obliged to restrain the virtuous ardor -of Sergeant Murphy, who, in his efforts to bring about a state of quiet -on the streets, would frequently commit some assault himself,” the -young Irish stenographer, listening to the rapid dictation, spelled -“some assault” “somersault,” and, as my brother remarked, one could not -but laugh at the thought of Sergeant Murphy performing somersaults like -a circus clown on Mulberry Street, and, fortunately, the word caught -the ever-watchful eye of the police commissioner before the report was -printed, and, even in spite of the inconvenience, he set himself to -work to improve the young stenographer’s mistaken orthographic efforts. - -In spite of his busy days and busy nights, he had time, as usual, to -write to me when he thought that I needed his care or interest. I was -far from well at the time, but was obstinately determined to go up to -visit my boys at St. Paul’s School, and he writes me: “Won’t you let -Douglas and me go up to St. Paul’s, and you stay at home? If you will -do this, I shall positively go for anniversary on June 2nd. I believe -you should not go on these trips whether for pleasure or duty, and -should take more care of yourself. Your loving and anxious brother.” - -He himself has given in his autobiography many incidents connected with -his police commissionership. - -The force were devoted to him, as were his Rough Riders later, largely -on account of the justice with which he treated them, and the friendly -attitude which he always maintained toward them. Otto Raphael, a young -Jew, and a young Irishman called Burke were two of the men whom he -promoted because of unusual bravery, and their loyalty and admiration -followed him unswervingly. On the sad day when he was carried to the -little cemetery at Oyster Bay, Burke--now Captain Burke--had been put -in charge of the police arrangements for the funeral. As he stood by -the grave, the captain turned to me, the tears streaming down his face -but with a smile in his blue Irish eyes, and said: “Do you remember -the fun of him, Mrs. Robinson? It was not only that he was a great -man, but oh, there was such fun in being led by him. I remember one -day when he was governor, and I was in charge of him, and I was riding -by the side of his carriage down Madison Avenue, and he suddenly stuck -his head out of the window and, ‘Burke’ said he, ‘we are just going to -pass my sister’s house. I want to get out and say “how do you do” to my -sister.’ ‘I don’t think you have time, governor’ I said, ‘I am afraid -you are late now.’ ‘Oh, now, Burke, I want you to meet my sister. Get -somebody to hold your horse,’ he said; ‘it won’t take a minute.’ And -with that he leaped out of his carriage and was ringing the front -door-bell in a flash. I followed him and I heard him call out to you, -Mrs. Robinson, that he had his friend Lieut. Burke with him, and could -he bring him up-stairs to shake hands, and sure enough he did, and when -I went down-stairs again I heard him telling you some story, and the -two of you were laughing fit to kill. When I got back that night to my -wife, I said: ‘Susan, if you are ever downhearted, all you have to do -is to go up to 422 Madison Avenue when the governor stops to see his -sister, and hear them laugh.’” - -The commissionership was a big job well done, and the city of New York -could not but feel a sense of great regret when President McKinley -promoted the active young commissioner to be assistant secretary of the -navy in 1897. It was his pride and one of his greatest satisfactions -in later years to feel that he was instrumental in preparing our navy -for the war with Spain. For many years he had been convinced that the -Spanish rule in Cuba should not continue; and the condition in Cuba, -he felt, was too intertwined with the affairs of the United States to -be differentiated from them. In the days of President Cleveland, my -brother had felt that action should be taken, and in the same way he -was convinced that Mr. McKinley was only putting off the evil day by -not facing the situation earlier in his incumbency. As was the case -in almost every crisis which arose, either national or international, -during my brother’s life, he seemed to have a prescience of the future, -and, therefore, he almost invariably--sometimes before other public men -were awake to the contingency--sensed the need of taking steps to avert -or meet difficulties which he felt sure would soon have to be faced. - -The young assistant secretary of the navy was not very popular with -the administration on account of the views which he felt it his duty -honestly to express. On March 6, 1898, he writes to my husband: -“Neither I nor anyone else, not even the President can do more than -guess. We are certainly drifting towards and not away from war, but the -President will not make war, and will keep out of it if he possibly -can. Nevertheless, with so much loose powder around, a coal may hop -into it at any moment. In a week or two, I believe, we shall get that -report. If it says the explosion was due to outside work, it will be -very hard to hold the country. [He refers to the blowing up of the -battleship _Maine_ in Havana harbor.] But the President undoubtedly -will try peaceful means even then, at least, at first.” - -At the time of the writing of that letter, Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt -had been very ill and was still very delicate, and my brother had not -only the many worries of the department in which he was working, as he -himself puts it, “like a fiend, for we have serious matters ahead,” but -he also had the great anxiety of her condition on his heart. On the -28th of March: “I have been working up to the handle here, and have -about all I can do on hand now. I have very strong convictions on this -crisis, convictions which, I fear, do not commend themselves to my -official superiors.” And again on April 2, 1898, he writes in full to -my husband, who was always one of his most welcome advisers: - - Navy Department, April 2, 1898. - - DEAR OLD MAN: - - In one way I was very much pleased at receiving your letter, for it - shows the thoughtfulness and affection you always feel for me. In - another way your letter makes it very hard for me. All my friends - have written me as you have, and yet I am convinced that you are - all wrong. Do not misunderstand me. It may well be that I can’t - get down with an Expeditionary force even if, as I think unlikely, - an Expeditionary force is started before next fall. Indeed I - think I shall probably have to stay here, and I should certainly - stay here until we got a successor broken in. But if I get a fair - chance to go, or could make a fair chance, I conscientiously - feel that I ought to go. My usefulness in my present position is - mainly a usefulness in time of peace, because in time of peace - the naval officers cannot speak freely to the Secretary and I can - and do, both to the Secretary and President, even at the cost - of jeopardizing my place. But in time of war the naval officers - will take their proper positions as military advisers, and my - usefulness would be at an end. I should simply be one of a number - of unimportant bureau chiefs. If I went I shouldn’t expect to - win any military glory, or at the utmost to do more than feel I - had respectably performed my duty; but I think I would be quite - as useful in the Army as here, and it does not seem to me that - it would be honorable for a man who has consistently advocated - a warlike policy not to be willing himself to bear the brunt of - carrying out that policy. I have a horror of the people who bark - but don’t bite. If I am ever to accomplish anything worth doing in - politics, or ever have accomplished it, it is because I act up to - what I preach, and it does not seem to me that I would have the - right in a big crisis not to act up to what I preach. At least I - want you to believe that I am doing this conscientiously and not - from merely selfish reasons, or from an impulse of levity. - - I shall answer Corinne in a day or two. April 13th I was to have - been in Boston, but if we have trouble, I, of course, can’t get - away. I hope Corinne will stay over the following Sunday, so I may - have a good chance to see her. - - Faithfully yours. - -The above is a most characteristic letter. Those who were nearest to -him, like myself and my husband, and even Senator Lodge, were doubtful -of his wisdom in leaving his important position (I mean important for -the affairs of the country, not for himself) as assistant secretary -of the navy to take active part in the war, should war come, but he -himself knew quite well that being made of the fibre that he was, -he must act up to what he had preached. Nothing is more absolutely -Theodore Roosevelt, was ever more thoroughly Theodore Roosevelt, than -that sentence. “I have a horror of the people who bark but don’t bite. -If I am ever to accomplish anything worth doing in politics, or ever -have accomplished it, it is because I act up to what I preach, and it -does not seem to me that I would have the right in a big crisis not to -act up to what I preach. At least I want you to believe that I am doing -this conscientiously and not from merely selfish reasons or from an -impulse of levity.” No sentence ever written by my brother more fitly -expressed his attitude toward conviction and acting up to conviction. - - - - -VIII - -COWBOY AND CLUBMAN - - A RHYME OF THE ROUGH RIDERS - - The ways of fate they had trod were as wide - As the sea from the shouting sea, - But when they had ranged them side by side, - Strenuous, eager, and ardent-eyed, - They were brothers in pluck, they were brothers in pride, - As the veriest brethren be. - - They heard no bugle-peal to thrill - As they crouched in the tangled grass, - But the sound of bullets whirring shrill - From hidden hollow and shrouded hill; - And they fought as only the valiant will - In the glades of Guasimas. - - Aye, they fought, let their blood attest!-- - The blood of their comrades gone; - Fought their bravest and fought their best, - As when, like a wave, in their zealous zest - They swept and surged o’er the sanguine crest - Of the heights of San Juan. - - So here’s to them all--a toast and a cheer!-- - From the greatest down to the least, - The heroes who fronted the deadliest fear, - Leader and lad, each volunteer, - The men whom the whole broad land holds dear - From the western sea to the east! - - --Clinton Scollard, 1898. - - -Those April days of 1898 in Washington were full of an underlying -current of excitement. Drifting toward war we certainly were, and -within a very short few weeks the drift had become a fixed headway, -and Captain Dewey, on the receipt of a certain telegram from a certain -acting secretary of the navy, was to enter Manila Bay, and by that -entrance, and by the taking of Cavite, to change forever the policy -of the United States. Theodore Roosevelt had been criticised for the -amount of ammunition used in practice by the gunners of the navy during -the past spring. He knew only too well that the real extravagance -in either army or navy comes from lack of foresight, and the fine -marksmanship of the sailors and marines was to prove a feather in the -cap of the young assistant secretary. - -Everything was bustle and hurry toward the end of April. Within a few -days the assistant secretary was to become the lieutenant-colonel of -the Rough Riders, or, as they were at first called, The First U. S. -Volunteer Cavalry. Mr. McKinley offered to Mr. Roosevelt the colonelcy -of the regiment, but he, with modesty and intelligence, refused the -offer, knowing that he was not as well fitted by experience for the -position as was his friend, Mr. McKinley’s physician, that gallant -surgeon in the army, Leonard Wood, who had had as a younger man so much -experience in the campaign against Geronimo. The two young men, within -a year of each other in age, had been friends for some time, having -many tastes in common, and the same stalwart attitude of unswerving -Americanism. Their friendship had been cemented during the spring of -1898 by the fact that they felt that their views in connection with the -mistakes of Spain in Cuba were very sympathetic. On the long tramps -which they took together on those spring afternoons, they discussed -the all-important question over and over again, and also discussed -the possibility of raising a regiment of men from the fearless, hardy -cowboys and backwoodsmen of the West. It was no sooner known that -Leonard Wood and Theodore Roosevelt were about to raise a regiment to -go to Cuba than every sort and kind of individual flocked to their -standard. The mobilization of the regiment took place in San Antonio, -Texas. - -My brother writes to me on May 5, 1898, from Washington: - -“You could not give me a more useful present than the watch. It was -exactly what I wished. Thank old Douglas too, for the watch and for -his many many kindnesses. I hope to leave to-morrow, but Wood, who is -now in San Antonio, may keep me here a day or two longer to hurry up -the shipment of the troops, rifles, etc. I much want to get with the -regiment to help get it into shape, but there will be many tedious -and irritating delays, of course. I have about twenty-five ‘gentlemen -rankers’ going with me from the Knickerbocker Club, and twelve -clean-cut stalwart young fellows from Harvard,--such fine boys. I feel -rather like a fake at going, for we may never get down to Cuba at all, -and if we do, I do not think we shall see very serious campaigning, -while proper care will prevent the serious risk of disease.” - -And again on May 8: - -“Kenneth turned up just in time. [Referring to my husband’s young -Scotch cousin, Kenneth Douglas Robinson, associated with my husband in -business, who was confident that he was doing the right thing to follow -his hero, Theodore Roosevelt, into the Spanish War.] I enlisted him and -sent him off with Bob Ferguson [another Scotch friend] and the rest....” - -And again on May 12, after I had sent him a poem, he writes: - -“My own darling sister:--I loved the poem and I loved your dear letter; -it made me sure that you really knew just how I felt about going. I -_could not_ stay; that was the sum and substance of it;--although I -realize well how hard it is for Edith, and what a change for the worse -it means in my after life. It will be bitter if we do not get to Cuba, -but we shall have to take things as they come. Your own brother.” - -I had doubted whether it was his duty to go to Cuba, feeling it might -be even more his duty to remain in his important and difficult position -of assistant secretary of the navy, but Theodore Roosevelt would not -have been his true self unless he had practised what he had preached so -vigorously. - -Kenneth Robinson writes on May 17 from San Antonio: - -“Theodore has been drilling us the last few days. The men always do -their best when he is out. He would be amused indeed if he heard -some of the adjectives and terms applied to him, meant to be most -complimentary but hardly fit for publication. We certainly are a -curious aggregation,--cavalry men, cowboys, college men, etc.” - -And Bob Ferguson, our very dear friend who had made America his home, -and was like a member of our family, writes early in June: - -“You should see some of the broncho busting that has been going on -daily in camp;--the most surprising horsemanship, and though it cost -about a man a day at first, knocked clean out, the busted-rate is now -diminishing. The men, as you can imagine, are well satisfied with their -commanders; Theodore has a great hold on them, and before long he will -be able to do anything he likes with them. The Army officers said they -had never seen such a body of men. One of the troops from Arizona came -almost entirely from one large ranch; they all know each other and will -fight shoulder to shoulder. Our own troop--‘K’ was rather a gay affair -at first, a little gang of Fifth Avenue ‘Dudes’ having constituted -themselves as leaders before Theodore arrived, but now it has a large -number of first rate cow-punchers and sheriffs drafted into it, and has -been increased one-third beyond its normal strength. We are more or -less intelligent, and are looked to as the possible crack troop.” - -It is interesting to look back and remember that that Company “K” -was indeed a “crack troop,” and the writer of the above lines became -one of its most gallant officers. What a body of men they were! The -romance of mediæval days was reborn in that regiment, and the strange -part of it all was that they had so much of chivalry about them, in -spite of the roughness of the cowboys, in spite of the madness of the -bronco-busters, in spite, perhaps, of another type of madness injected -into the regiment by the Fifth Avenue “Dudes”; still, that body of -men, as a whole, stood out for gallantry and courage, and gentleness -of spirit wherever gentleness of spirit was needed in the hard days to -come. There was a poem written at that time, “The Yankee Dude’ll Do,” -and I remember the little thrill with which I read it, realizing how -the names that up to that time had been connected with rather gay and -useless lives became bywords for hard, persistent work “to make” good -in the various companies. - -Theodore himself writes to me on June 7 in camp near Tampa, Florida: - -“First Regiment, U. S. Volunteer Cavalry. - -“We are on the point of embarking for Cuba. Yesterday I thought I was -going to be left, and would have to stay on this side during the first -expedition for they intended to take but four troops. Now, however, -they intend to take eight, and unless the transports give out, I shall -go. I need not say how rejoiced I am, for I could not help feeling very -bitterly when it seemed that I would be left. This really is a fine -regiment, and Count Von Goetzen and Capt. Lee, the German and English -Military Attachés, watched our gun drill yesterday in camp with General -Sumner, and all three expressed what seemed to be sincere astonishment -and pleasure at the rapidity with which we had got the men into shape. -I wish you could see how melancholy the four troops that remain behind -feel; it is very hard on them. I had the last two squadrons under my -care on the harassing journey on the cars and it was no slight labor. -How I would like to have Douglas as an officer in this regiment with -me. He would take to it just as I do. - -“Well, if our hopes are realized, we sail tomorrow for Cuba, but nobody -can tell how many of us will get back, and I don’t suppose there is -much glory ahead, but I hope and believe we shall do our duty, and the -home-coming will be very very pleasant for those who do come home.” - -How my heart ached as I read those last words and realized that the -chances, in all probability, were strongly against his coming home -again. - -On June 12: - - On board U. S. Transport _Yucatan_. - - DARLING CORINNE: - - I suppose it is simply the ordinary fortune of war for the most - irritating delays to happen, but it seems to me that the people at - Washington are inexcusable for putting us aboard ship and keeping - us crowded to suffocation on these transports for six days in - Tampa Harbor, in a semi-tropical sun. The men take it with great - resolution and good humour, but if we are kept here much longer, - it cannot fail to have a bad effect upon them. We have been - dismounted, but I care nothing for that if only we are sent, and - given a chance to get into the game. I wish you could see or could - have seen us at some of the crises when, for instance, we spent all - night standing up opposite a railway track, waiting for a train to - come, and finally taking coal cars in the morning. - -On the 14th he writes to my husband: - -“We are about to sail and as we are at the mouth of the harbor, it is -hardly likely that we can be recalled.... It has been most interesting -even when the work was irritating and full of worry. The regiment -is a wonderful body of men and they have taken to discipline with -astonishing readiness and are wild with eager enthusiasm. Those of us -who come out of it safe will be bound together all our lives by a very -strong tie. You may rest assured I haven’t the slightest idea of taking -any risk I don’t feel I absolutely must take.” - -There was no doubt of the strong tie that bound the Rough Riders, -as they were later called, together. We always teased my brother -when, as President, he would suddenly announce that “Happy Jack of -Arizonia,” or some such erstwhile comrade, was eminently fitted for -a position for which the aforesaid “Happy Jack” did not seem to have -strong qualifications. How they loved their leader, and how that love -was returned! Whenever my brother spoke of his “regiment” a note of -tenderness came into his voice such as might be heard in the voice of a -woman when speaking of her lover. - -That same day, June 14, Bob Ferguson wrote to me: - -“Theodore is absolutely radiating. He just lent me ‘Vanity Fair’ in -return for a box of peppermints, and it has been queer just at this -moment to read about old Curzon street and the Brussels’ Ball; but -Becky made us laugh more than ever after reading nothing but Tactics or -a local newspaper for several weeks.... This country is becoming the -laughing-stock of the world at present, and the German experts really -do not believe the United States can fight. It will bring on big world -complications unless they show their power soon.” - -The above opinion is interesting in the light of what the German -experts again felt about the United States before we entered the Great -War in 1917! - -On June 15 a letter dated in the Gulf of Mexico runs as follows: - -“We are steaming southward through a sapphire sea, wind-rippled under -an almost cloudless sky. There are some forty-eight craft in all, in -three columns,--the black hulls of the transports setting off the gray -hull of the man-of-war. Last evening, we stood up on the bridge and -watched the red sun sink and lights blaze up on the ships for miles -ahead, while the band played piece after piece from the Star Spangled -Banner (at which we all rose and stood uncovered) to The Girl I Left -Behind Me. It is a great historical expedition and I thrill to feel -that I am part of it. If we fail, of course, we share the fate of all -who do fail, and if we are allowed to succeed, for we certainly shall -succeed if allowed, we have scored the first great triumph of what -will be a world movement. All the young fellows have dimly felt what -this means, though the only articulate soul and imagination among -them belong, rather curiously, to Ex-sheriff Capt. Buckey O’Neil of -Arizona.” - -The above Buckey O’Neil, leaning over the rail at sunset, would often -quote Browning, my brother used to tell me, or Whitman, or even -Shelley. He was a real “Bret Harte” character, and one of my brother’s -greatest griefs in the days to come was that that gallant officer was -amongst the first to fall. He had just exposed himself to Spanish fire -somewhat unnecessarily, and my brother said to him: “Get down, Buckey; -I cannot spare you.” The other laughingly replied, “There isn’t a -bullet made that can kill me, Colonel,” and literally, as he spoke, a -stray shot struck him and he fell dead across my brother’s knees. But -to return: - - June 20, 1898--Troop Ship near Santiago. - - All day we have steamed close to the Cuban coast; high - barren-looking mountains rise abruptly from the shore, and at this - distance look much like those of Montana. We are well within the - tropics and at night, the Southern Cross is low above the horizon. - It seems too strange to see it in the same sky with the friendly - Dipper. - -And then later: - - June 25, 1898--Las Guasimas-- - - Yesterday we struck the Spaniards and had a brisk fight for two - and a half hours before we drove them out of their position. We - lost twelve men, killed or mortally wounded, and sixty, severely - or slightly wounded. Brodie was wounded,--poor Capron and Ham Fish - were killed; one man was killed as he stood beside a tree with me, - another bullet went through a tree behind which I stood and filled - my eyes with bark. The last charge I led on the left using a rifle - I took from a wounded man. Every man behaved well; there was no - flinching. The fire was very hot at one or two points where the men - around me went down like nine-pins. We have been ashore three days - and were moved at once to the front without our baggage. I have - been sleeping on the ground in a mackintosh, and so drenched with - sweat that I have not been dry a minute day and night. The marches - have been very severe. One of my horses was drowned swimming - through the surf. It was a fierce fight; the Spaniards shot well, - but they did not stand when we rushed. - -We received the details of the fight of Las Guasimas on the 4th of -July, I remember, and all night long I sat on my piazza on Orange -Mountain, thinking, with a strange horror, of the danger in which my -brother had been and still was. - -On June 27, 1898, another letter, this time dated Santiago: - -“We have a lovely camp here by a beautiful stream which runs through -jungle-land banks. The morning after the fight, we buried our dead in -a great big trench, reading the solemn burial service over them, and -all the regiment joined in singing ‘Rock of Ages.’ The woods are full -of land crabs, some of which are almost as big as rabbits; when things -grew quiet, they slowly gathered in gruesome rings around the fallen.” - -Bob Ferguson also adds interesting evidence to the courage of the First -Volunteer Cavalry under fire. - - Las Guasimas--June 25, 1898. - - Theodore and Wood are more than delighted with the conduct of the - men. You never heard such a hail of shot. The enemy, of course, - knew when we would be in the jungle, and we could only guess their - whereabouts. Their volleys opened up from all directions. Theodore - did great work skipping from one troop to another, and directed - them as they were deployed, but we can only trust that this kind - of thing won’t happen too often, for fear of results. It was, in - fact, a surprise party, however, an expected one. Our men rushed - into a known ambush with the careless dash of the cow-puncher. - Once in, they literally had to hug the ground while the trees - above and beside them were torn to shreds.... Theodore has marked - the Spaniard all right--and the name of his regiment will never - be spoken of any too lightly. They really did not understand - fear and would willingly repeat the dose tomorrow. Poor Ham - Fish,--he was such a good-hearted, game fellow, and I got to like - him ever so much on the way down;--it is more than much now!--The - Spaniards showed any amount of skill in their tactics, and only the - extraordinary grit of our men undid their calculation, together - with the good work of a parallel column of Regulars, who cleared - the Spaniards off a flanking ridge in the forest in the finest - style--otherwise they could have out-flanked us on either side and - given us Hell in open sight. So far, it seems like fighting an - army of invisible Pigmies.... Kenneth was awfully good yesterday - after the fight. He was the first to volunteer to help the wounded - when the entire troop was too exhausted to move;--he carried them - for hours until his back gave out.... We really did splendidly - yesterday. The Regulars are to have their turn now. We have been - blooded ourselves. We lost too many officers. One little fellow, - shot right through both hips, was the greatest little sport. He - refused to be attended to until others were made comfortable, - and he lay and smoked his pipe patiently. One man walked to the - hospital with five wounds:--in the neck, right shoulder, right - hand, left thigh, and one other. - -It is a matter of interest to print the above extracts, for even when -my brother wrote his book called “The Rough Riders,” he could not -give quite the spirit which the letters, penned at the moment of the -happenings, can so fitly interpret. Bob Ferguson again, on July 5, gave -an important description of my brother: - - Before Santiago, July 5, 1898. - - We have been having the devil of a fine time of it, shooting - Spaniards, and being “stormed at by shot and shell.” When I caught - up with Theodore, the day of his famous charge, (having been held - in the reserve line until tired of being pelted at from a distance) - “T” was revelling in victory. He had just “doubled up” a Spanish - officer like a jack-rabbit, as he retreated from a block house.... - That same evening, having reached the most advanced crest possible, - with about 300 men, and having the whole Spanish Army firing at - us from their entrenchments around the city, the summit of our - ambition was almost reached. - - Theodore moved about in the midst of shrapnel explosions like - Shadrach, Meschach & Sons in the midst of the fiery furnace, - unharmed by the vicious Mauser balls or by the buzzing exploding - bullets of the Irregulars.... Theodore preferred to stand up or - walk about snuffing the fragrant air of combat. I really believe - firmly now, that they cannot kill him. It looks, too, somewhat - as if they would not get a chance for a spell, for our lines are - around the Spanish Dog’s throat, and he will be smothered by our - fire in a moment should the fight open once more. It would seem - a shame now to have to damage them any more, for they say the - streets are full of wounded and spent balls shower among them.... - Theodore has sure made his mark on the Spaniard,--and the Rough - Riders [the regiment had already ceased to be called the First - Volunteer Cavalry, and was never again known as anything but the - Rough Riders] will _remain_--pitching bronchos and all, afoot - or on horseback!... The “bob whites” whistle all around these - plantations, and transport one straight back to Sagamore Hill on a - summer’s day. The mountains here are glorious; the valleys, a dream - of drooping palms, and dark, cool, shaded mangroves clustered; soft - bamboo waves near the creeks and smiling ridges, once all under - cultivation. - -My brother himself, in a letter dated from Santiago, July 19, 1898, -writes: - - “Darling Corinne:--‘Triumph tasted’!--for that, one will readily - pay as heavy a price as we have paid; but it is bitter to think - that part of the price was due to the mismanagement of those in - authority. The misery has been fearful. Today, out of my four - hundred odd men in camp, one hundred and twenty-three are under - the doctor’s care. The rest of the six hundred with whom I landed - are dead or in the rear hospitals. I cannot explain the breakdown - of the transportation service, the commissariat, or the hospital - service.” - -I quote the above letter for the special purpose of recalling to my -readers the fact that Colonel Roosevelt was much criticised later for -instigating the writing of a “round-robin” letter in the summer, urging -the authorities to bring home the regiments after the victory was won. -Due to the “breakdown” which he describes, the men were dying like -flies, and had that “round robin” (severely censured by my brother’s -enemies) not been written, had the authorities at Washington not -decided to follow the suggestions of Theodore Roosevelt and order our -gallant men back from their death-trap, very few of that expedition to -Cuba would have lived to tell the tale. At the end of the above letter, -after describing in full the sufferings of the men because of lack of -care, he says: - -“They have been worn down by the terrific strain of fighting, marching, -digging in the trenches, during the tropical midsummer; they have been -in the fore-front, all through, they never complained though half-fed -and with clothes and shoes in tatters; but it is bitter to think of the -wealth at home, which would be so gladly used in their behalf if only -it could be so used. They are devoted to me, and I cannot get their -condition out of my thoughts. If only you could see them in battle, or -feeding these wretched refugee women and children, whose misery beggars -description. [Did I not say that these wild, strong men of the West -were gentle in heart as well as fierce in courage!] - -“Well, it is a great thing to have led such a regiment on the crowning -day of its life. Young Burke [Eddie Burke] is well and is a first-class -man and soldier. I like and respect him. Bob earned his promotion. -The New York men have stood the strain well. I felt dreadfully about -Kenneth’s wound that day, but I was near the line, with my men, nearest -the Spaniard, and I could not have gone back or held back for my own -son. No man was ahead of me when we charged or rushed to the front to -repel a charge; and indeed, I think my men would follow me literally -anywhere. In the hard days I fared absolutely as they did, in food and -bedding,--or rather, the lack of both. Now, yellow fever has broken out -in the Army and I know not when we shall get away, but whatever comes, -it is all right and I am content. Love to little Teddy and all the -others. Your brother.” - -The same day he wrote my husband: - -“Two of our men have died of yellow fever. We hope to keep it out of -camp, and if we succeed, I trust we shall soon get to Porto Rico. -Whatever comes, I cannot say how glad I am to have been in this. I feel -that I now leave the children a memory that will partly offset the fact -that I did not leave them much money. I have been recommended for the -Colonelcy of this regiment, and for the medal of honor. Of course, I -hope to get both, but I really don’t care very much, for the _thing -itself_ is more important than the reward, and I have led this regiment -during the last three weeks, the crowning weeks of its life. There is -nothing I would have exchanged for having led it on horseback, where, -first of all the army, we broke through the enemy’s entrenchments. By -the way, I then killed a Spaniard myself with the pistol Will Cowles -raked up from the _Maine_. Of the six hundred men with whom I landed, -less than three hundred are left; the others are dead or in the -hospital; the mismanagement has been beyond belief.” - -Alas, how sad it seems that the mismanagement should have been beyond -belief at such a time! - -On July 27 a letter dated “First Regiment, U. S. Volunteer Cavalry, -in camp near Santiago de Cuba,” was received by my husband. A very -characteristic letter it was, full of the joy of a fight well fought, -and full also, of that tremendous human sympathy with his men, -combined with an intelligent practicality which resulted later in the -“round robin,” requesting that the men who had fought so bravely, -should not be allowed to die of disease unnecessarily by being retained -for no good reason in the broiling heat of a Cuban summer. - -“Dear Douglas,” he writes, “we had a bully fight at Santiago, and -though there was an immense amount that I did not exactly enjoy, the -charge itself was great fun. Frankly, it did not enter my head that I -could get through without being hit, but I judged that even if hit, the -chances would be about 3 to 1 against my being killed. - -“As far as the political effect of my actions;--in the first place, I -never _can_ get on in politics, and in the second, I would rather have -led that charge and earned my colonelcy, than serve three terms in the -United States Senate. It makes me feel as though I could now leave -something to my children which will serve as an apology for my having -existed. [How much his existence needed an apology!] In spite of the -strain, and the anything but hygienic conditions under which we have -lived, I am in very good health. If we stay here all summer, we shall -have yellow fever among us, of course, but I rather think I will pull -through that too. I wish they would let us go to Porto Rico, or if not, -then let me get all my regiment together in Maine or somewhere like -that and get them in trim for the great campaign against Havana in the -Fall. I wish you could see these men. I am as proud of them as I can -be, and I verily believe they would go anywhere with me. They are being -knocked down right and left, however, with the fever. I shan’t take any -risks unless I really think I ought to, and now, I begin to believe -that I am going to get home safely.” - -A letter from Bob Ferguson about the same time backs up his future -position in regard to moving the men, and reiterates: - -“It was a glorious spin, over trenches and barbed wires instead -of oaken panels, however. One never expects to see the like -again;--Corinne and Anna must have suffered terribly from Theodore’s -wild, whirlwind career! His courage all through was so simple and so -true to him. The Spaniards laughed at the Cubans, and said they had no -fighting to do until the Americans came;--they ‘kept on coming.’ One -officer told Colonel Wood that the Americans were ‘magnanimous, brave, -and ferocious.’ If Cervera had stayed in harbor with his ships, we -would have been in the devil of a hole between starvation and fever. It -is lucky things went as they did.” - -And again, on August 6, he writes to me: - -“These dreary Cuban days and dark and dismal nights are drawing to a -close for the time,--Thank the Lord and Theodore. [The much-criticised -“round robin” had had its effect.] It is hardly fair to damn this -country that way, however, for in reality, it is most inexplicably -beautiful. In the sunshine of the morning, when once in a while an -almost refreshing breeze comes, then the tropical valleys bask and -smile in the most enticing luxuriance, and entrance one into lazy -dreams of fairy-land. The mass of the scarlet acacia, the trails of -morning-glories, and lilies, and the hot growth of all kinds,--above -all, the graceful and kingly royal palm and his harem, the slender, -tall, clustering bamboos,--are all lovely. These things by moon-light -were simply inexpressible; however, the real side of nature is deadly -sun, over-whelming, drenching rain, dark, drizzly mist and dew, fever, -malaria, filth, disgust with everything. Well, this is at an end now, -and almost time it were, for there would not be many left to tell the -tale if left here all summer as the President and Secretary proposed to -leave us only a couple of days ago, but Theodore ‘sicked one’ as your -Stewart’s whole pack of pup-dogs could not commence to do. If we take -a final fall, it will be at Havana in the autumn and not with yellow -fever, if we can help it, here at Santiago. You all had a dreadful time -of it, probably far worse than we merry men of the Greenwood. Honestly, -while it is all going along and when there is an advance, the spirits -rise amazingly and one trips forward as gaily as in Sir Roger or any -other airy measure. That, however, is the one really satisfactory -sensation. Lying passive in reserve, and being searched and found by -the long-range mausers and shrapnel in the bushes, is not so cheerful -an occupation; in fact, it is a low proceeding altogether. - -“Whooping along from time to time ‘thoro bush--thoro brier,’ with a -wildish throng, firing, cheering, laughing, and running,--that, is a -very different story, and holding the advance point in spite of orders -to retire (!) is another thing to make even novices chuckle inwardly -when they once feel they can do it,--but Theodore was the sparkle to -all that fun. - -“I could make your flesh creep, however, with horror; meanwhile, you -can picture to yourself in pleasant nightmares, flocks of vultures and -buzzards, the dead and wounded lost in the tangled growth,--and swarms -of crabs,--great big land crabs with one, enormous, lobster-like claw, -creeping, rustling, scuffling thro’ the dried aloes and palmettoes.... -War never changes its hideous phantasms. The heroism of even modern men -(and none the less of the women who let them go) is the one thing to -glory and hope in. We pack up tonight. My love to all.” - -And so ended the brief and glorious career of the Rough Riders, a -career which has about it a touch of Roland and Robin Hood. These -letters, written _at the time_, are valuable refutations of some -bruited questions, and the very people who criticised certain actions -of my brother, _at the time_, would be the first, I verily believe, -now, to wish they had withheld their criticism. - -The depleted regiment, emaciated beyond words, returned to Montauk -Point on Long Island, and my husband and I came down from the -Adirondack Mountains to meet them at Camp Wyckoff. What a night we -spent in a Red Cross tent at the camp! How we talked! How good it was -to greet the gallant men again, so many of whom we knew and loved, and -how infinitely interesting to come in contact with the wild Westerners -about whose courage and determination my brother had written such -glowing accounts. - -In the last letter my brother wrote to my husband from Santiago, the -sentence “As for the political effect of my actions, I never can get -on in politics” was soon to be refuted, for hardly had he arrived at -Montauk than the politicians flocked surreptitiously to sound him as -to the possibility of his running for governor of New York State, but -that’s another story! - -The throb of parting from their leader was soon to be experienced by -the gallant men who had followed Theodore Roosevelt so eagerly in -the Cuban jungles. Picturesque to the end, the mustering out of the -Rough Riders, under blue autumnal skies at Montauk Point, was the -culmination of its romantic career, and many a ferocious fighter and -wild bronco-buster turned from the last hand-clasp of his colonel with -tears in the eyes which had not flinched before the fiercest Spanish -onslaught. - - - - -IX - -THE ROUGH RIDER STORMS THE CAPITOL AT ALBANY - - THE MAN WHO CAN - - (Old Saxon for “The King”) - - WRITTEN OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT - - How shall we know “the man who can”? - (That was the Saxon phrase, they say.) - Nay, perchance we shall find the man - Close to our hearts and lives to-day! - - Soldier and patriot, strong of hand, - Keen of vision to know the time, - Quick and true to the hour’s demand, - Poet, too, without rune or rhyme! - - Poet, because through mists of sin - He finds the best as it yet shall be. - Faces evil, yet dares begin - To _live_ the good that his soul can see. - - Speech like an arrow, swift and straight, - Strength that smites to the core of wrong; - Smile that mocks but an adverse fate, - Heart of a boy, that leaps to song. - - Honor scornful of life or place, - Courage brightest in sordid strife; - Such is the man whose first, best grace - Was the simple crown of a stainless life! - - --Marion Couthouy Smith. - - -It could not have been a pleasant thought to Mr. Thomas Platt (the -acknowledged Republican boss of New York State, and a most interesting -and unusual personality) when he realized that the tremendous -popularity of the colonel of the Rough Riders would force him to accept -the suggestion of some of the Republican leaders that this same colonel -should be the Republican nominee for governor that autumn of 1898. -The dash of the Rough Riders up San Juan Hill was not more strenuous -than Theodore Roosevelt’s sudden and unexpected storming of the Albany -Capitol. What an autumn it was! Every imaginable obstacle was put in -the way of his success. He was accused of not having paid his taxes; -he was bitterly impugned by a certain number of his former friends and -adherents--Independents--who did not believe that he should accept the -“regular” nomination, and many and varied were the battles fought about -and around his personality. - -The whole campaign had to be arranged so suddenly and hurriedly that -all kinds of amusing, although sometimes unpleasant, contretemps -occurred. One remains clearly in my mind. There was to be held near -Troy a country fair. Its date had apparently not been determined upon -before my brother had agreed to speak at what promised to be a large -colored meeting the evening of the same day on which the fair was to -be held. My brother had not expected to have to go to the fair, but a -sudden summons came, saying that it was very important that he should -appear and make an out-of-door speech to a large concourse of up-state -farmers. He was torn from Oyster Bay at an abnormally early hour and -dashed up to Troy. Meanwhile, the newspapers of Albany and Troy had -announced that he could not be present owing to his engagement for -the evening in New York. The consequence was that the attendance at -the fair at the time he was supposed to speak was almost nil, and he -returned to New York much depressed at the apparent lack of interest. -I came in from my country home to dine with him and go to the colored -meeting. The colored people were especially enthusiastic about my -brother’s candidacy, because the Tenth Regiment of regulars, a colored -regiment, had stormed San Juan Hill side by side with the Rough Riders. -The meeting scheduled had been widely heralded, and we started for the -hall with the conviction that although the _day_ had been a failure the -_night_ was going to justify our highest expectations. Arriving at the -hall, one old man with a long gray beard, sitting in the front seat, -was apparently the total of the great audience that had been promised. -My brother and I waited in the little room near the platform, anxiously -peering out every now and then, hoping that the hall would soon be -filled to overflowing, but no one came, and after an hour and a half of -disheartening disappointment, we shook hands warmly with the faithful -elderly adherent--who had remained silently in his seat during this -period of waiting--and left the hall. My brother, in spite of distinct -distress of mind, turned laughingly to me as we walked rapidly away and -said, quoting from Maria Edgeworth’s immortal pages: “Little Rosamund’s -day of misfortunes!” The next day the morning newspapers announced -that the evening newspapers had given the misinformation that the -Republican candidate for governor would not be able to return from the -Troy fair in time for the colored meeting, an announcement which had so -discouraged the colored folk that only one old man had been true to his -colors! - -From that day on, through the strenuous campaign, my brother was known -by the family entirely as “Little Rosamund.” - -Another evening comes back to my mind. My husband and my brother -had left me in my country home on the hill at Orange, and they were -supposed to return at eleven o’clock that night. The last train arrived -and my carriage returned from it empty. I was worried, for they were -so thoughtful that I felt they would surely have telephoned to relieve -my possible anxiety, and when at twelve o’clock the telephone-bell -rang, I ran to the instrument expecting to hear a familiar voice, -instead of which “I am a _World_ reporter” was what I heard, “and I -would like to know where Colonel Roosevelt and Mr. Douglas Robinson -are.” “I cannot give you any information,” I replied discreetly, and -more truthfully than usual, I confess. “It is very strange,” said -the voice--a distant unknown voice at twelve o’clock at night, when -you are the sole occupant of a remote country house, always has a -somewhat eerie effect--“for we have traced them up to within the last -hour and we cannot find them anywhere.” A slight wave of apprehension -passed over me, but at the same time I was sufficiently confident of -my two stalwart gentlemen not to have any serious fear concerning -their whereabouts, and suddenly seized with an irresistible desire -to be “funny”--a perfectly inexcusable inclination in a political -campaign--I said to the reporter: “Wait one moment, please. Should you -by any chance discover the whereabouts of Colonel Roosevelt and Mr. -Robinson, would you be kind enough to let _me_ know where they are?” -I have always remembered the sound of the distant laugh of the man -as I hurriedly put down the telephone-receiver, fully realizing my -mistake in becoming jocose, and sure enough the next morning, in large -headlines, appeared on the front page of the _World_: “Mrs. Douglas -Robinson has no knowledge where Colonel Roosevelt and Mr. Douglas -Robinson have spent the night.” - -Another incident that comes back into my memory was an evening in -Chickering Hall, almost immediately before Election day, at which -many well-known speakers were to make their plea for the election of -Theodore Roosevelt, and at which, also, that most brilliant of speakers -and charming of men, Mr. Joseph H. Choate, was to bring the evening to -a climax. As Election day drew near, the great boss of Tammany Hall, -Richard Croker, forsook his usual methods of strict silence, and began -to be loquacious. Croker, when running a candidate, was always very -careful indeed to keep the mystery of the Wigwam (Tammany) wrapped -closely about him, but as the fight waxed hot and heavy, he lost his -control and said many a foolish thing, and the Republican papers -jubilantly announced that when Croker began to talk, it meant that he -knew that his cause was lost. - -At the meeting at Chickering Hall, when Mr. Choate rose to make the -final speech of the evening, he said: - -“Ladies and gentlemen, it is late; you have heard many speakers and -I shall be brief. All that I wish to do is to recall to your minds -a certain Bible story--you may not have the incident clear in your -memory. I refer to the story of Balaam and his ass!” Here the learned -speaker paused and his audience concentrated their attention upon him, -somewhat puzzled as to what he was about to say. He continued: “You may -remember that Balaam was riding upon the ass through a dark forest, -and that suddenly the ass stopped, and even more suddenly, _the ass -spoke_!” Mr. Choate paused again, and the audience suddenly rippled -out their mirth and their realization that the “ass” who spoke had a -distinct reference to the utterances of Croker. As the laughter grew -louder, Mr. Choate suddenly lifted his hand in the most impressive -manner, and continued in a serious tone full of dramatic power: “But, -ladies and gentlemen, you have perhaps forgotten _why_ the ass spoke. -The reason that he did so was because directly in his path, in shining -garments, stood a young man with a flaming sword in his hand!” As one -man the audience rose to its feet! Simultaneously, a great cheer rose -to the lips of every one present, for the figure of speech had done its -work, and each person in the house visualized the figure of Theodore -Roosevelt, ardent and young, courageous and honest, truly “a young man -with a flaming sword in his hand!” - -Election day came and with it an overwhelming victory for the man who -so lately had written to Douglas Robinson: “As for the political effect -of my actions, I never can get on in politics.” - -During his incumbency as governor of New York State he always made -his headquarters either at the house of my sister, Mrs. Cowles, or at -my house, and many were the famous breakfast-parties at 422 Madison -Avenue in those strenuous days. He was criticised for breakfasting with -Mr. Platt and Mr. Odell (Mr. Platt’s associate boss), but almost all -of those much-discussed meals took place at my own house, and many -a time Messrs. Platt and Odell had the unusual experience of finding -that they were apparently expected to sit upon one chair, as my brother -had invited so many more people to breakfast than could possibly be -seated at my comparatively small table. After breakfast was over, Mr. -Platt would say in a rather stern manner, “And now, Governor Roosevelt, -I should like to have a private word with you,” and my brother would -answer, “Why, certainly, Mr. Platt, we will go right up to my sister’s -library--good-by, gentlemen,” turning to his other guests, and then -to Mr. Platt again, “We shall be quite private except for my sister. -I always like to have her present at all my conferences. She takes so -much interest in what I am doing!” This with a humorous side-glance -at me, knowing how irritating my presence was to the gentleman in -question. I can bear witness to the fact that through those many -conferences my brother’s courtesy to the brilliant older man never -failed, nor did he ever lose his independent outlook or action. My -brother’s effort to work with Mr. Platt rather than against him also -never failed, and many a time I have heard him say: “Mr. Platt, I would -rather accept your suggestion of an appointee than that of any one else -_if_ you will suggest as good and honorable a man as any one else. I -_want_ to work with you and I know that your great information about -Republican affairs is of enormous value to me, but I must reserve my -own power of decision in all matters, although I hope always to be in -accord with you.” - -The Rough Riders were always turning up on every occasion, or if they -did not actually turn up in _propria persona_, strange letters on many -and varied subjects came to my house from them. Amongst these letters -one arrived when my brother was breakfasting with me one morning at -my house. The mail that morning was unique in more ways than one, for -another letter arrived with no name and no address on it. Instead of -name and address there was a drawing of a large set of teeth, and on -the reverse side of the envelope was written: “Please let Jack Smith, -211 W. 139th Street, know whether this letter reaches its destination. -It is a bet and a lot of money hangs in the balance”! Those strong -white teeth, which had been the terror of the recreant policemen, were -quite as much a factor at the Capitol on the hill at Albany. - -In the same mail, as I said, came a very characteristic epistle from a -Rough Rider, which ran as follows: - -“Dear Colonol: Please come right out to Dakota. They ain’t treatin me -right out here. The truth is, Colonel, they have put me in jail and I -ain’t ought to be here at all, cause what they say ain’t true, Colonel. -They say that I shot a lady in the eye and it ain’t true, Colonel, for -I was shootin at my wife at the time.--I know you will come and get me -out of jail right off, Colonel,--please hurry. J. D.” - -How my brother laughed as he turned the manuscript over to me, and -said: “They are the most unconscionable children that ever were, but oh -what fighting men they made!” - -Another amusing incident occurred at the house of my sister, where we -were all lunching one day, having one of our merry family reunions -to meet the governor. My sister had just returned from Europe with -a “perfect treasure” of an English butler, who had not yet become -entirely accustomed to the vagaries of the Roosevelt family! We were -in the midst of a specially merry argument when the door-bell rang and -the butler left the dining-room to answer the bell. In a few moments he -returned with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face, and leaning -over my brother’s chair, he said in a stage whisper: “There is a ---- -there is a ---- _gentleman_ in the hall, sir ---- he says, sir, that -his name, sir, is ---- _Mr._ ‘Happy Jack’ of Arizona.” “Why,” said my -brother, leaping to his feet, “I didn’t know that ‘Happy Jack’ was -in New York,” and he hurriedly left the room to welcome his precious -Rough Rider. In a few moments he came back literally doubled up with -laughter, and burst out: “You know, there has been a great deal in the -newspapers about the trouble that I have had with importunate office -seekers, who have forced themselves, in a very disagreeable way, into -the executive mansion at Albany. Dear old ‘Happy Jack’ read, way out -in Arizona, about the annoyance I was having with these people, and -he just packed his kit and came all the way from Arizona to offer to -be ‘bouncer-out’ of the executive mansion! Wasn’t that fine of ‘Happy -Jack’!” - -Several years later, when my brother was President of the United -States, I was in England and I spent a week-end with the St. Loe -Stracheys in Surrey, where Lord and Lady Cromer were also passing -Sunday. Lord Cromer having, as a young man, visited our Western plains -and prairies, adored the stories of the Rough Riders, and especially -the incident of “Happy Jack’s” desire to become “bouncer-out” of the -executive mansion. He loved the story so much that he insisted upon -my telling it to another English peer, in whom the sense of humor was -less striking than in Lord Cromer. I shall never forget the dreary -sensation of struggling to tell Earl S---- that particular story. We -were at a rather dreary garden-party, and Lord Cromer had presented -his friend for the special purpose of having me tell this Rough Rider -story. Much against my will, I acceded to his request, and the story -seemed to get longer and longer and duller and duller in the telling. -Having mentioned the “perfect treasure” of a butler in the beginning -of the tale, that seemed to be the rudder to which Earl S---- clung -through the involutions of Rough Riderism, and as I stumbled on to -the ever-lengthening end of that unfortunate anecdote, the English -peer in question turned to me as I fell into silence and said, coldly -and courteously: “Is that all?” “Yes,” I said hastily, “quite all.” -“Oh!” said my companion, with a sigh of relief, and then feeling that -he had not been quite sufficiently sympathetic, he added courteously: -“And did the butler stay?” When I returned with this sequel to the -story of “Happy Jack” of Arizona and recounted it to my brother, he -laughed immoderately and said: “I know you must have suffered telling -the story, but that postscript to the story is worth all the pain you -suffered.” - -One afternoon in May, I think in the year 1900, my brother telephoned -me that he wanted to bring several men to dinner the following day, -amongst others, Mr. Winston Churchill, of England, now so well known -all over the world, but then still very young, though having had many -experiences as a writer in connection with the Boer War. He was making -a speaking tour in America. As usual, the little party grew, and when -we assembled at dinner the following evening, dear old General Wheeler -(Fighting Joe), Mr. St. Clair McKelway, of the Brooklyn _Eagle_, -and one or two others, I remember being very much interested in Mr. -Churchill’s method of probing Governor Roosevelt’s mind. The young -Englishman, of mixed parentage, had on his American side a certain -quality unusual in the average Englishman, and the rapid fire of his -questioning was very characteristic of the land of his mother’s birth, -while a certain “sureness” of point of view might be attributed to both -countries. At one period during the dinner he referred to a certain -incident that had occurred in Africa, and relegated it to the action -which took place at Bloemfontein. My brother very courteously said: “I -beg your pardon, but that particular incident took place, if I am not -mistaken, at Magersfontein.” The young Englishman flushed and repeated -with determination that it had occurred at Bloemfontein, and added the -fact, which was already known to us, that he had been there. My brother -again, his head a little on one side, and still most courteously, -reiterated: “I think, Mr. Churchill, if you will stop and think for a -moment, you will remember that I am right in this instance, and that -that incident took place at Magersfontein.” Mr. Churchill paused a -moment in the ever-ready flow of his talk and then suddenly, with a -rather self-conscious frown, said: “You are right, governor, and I am -mistaken. It did occur at Magersfontein.” This anecdote I give simply -to show, what is known by all who were intimate with my brother, -namely, the extraordinary accuracy with which he followed the affairs -of the day, and the equally extraordinary memory which retained the -detail of individual occurrences in a most unusual manner. In the soft -spring air we sat later in the evening by the open window while General -Wheeler, son of the South, veteran of the Civil War, and Theodore -Roosevelt, son of the North, who had so lately led his famous regiment -through the Cuban jungles in close proximity to General Wheeler, told -story after story of the way in which, shoulder to shoulder, they had -buried the old differences in the new co-operation. - -In May, 1899, I received one of the comparatively few letters which -came to me while my brother was governor, for we met so frequently that -we rarely wrote. The following letter, coming as it did at the end of -his first year of service as governor of New York State, is of special -interest. - -“Darling Corinne,” he says, “your letter touched me deeply. It was -so good to catch a glimpse of you the other day. I have accomplished -a certain amount for good this year. I want to see you and go over -it all at length with you. In a way, there is a good deal that is -disappointing about it because I had to act, especially towards the -end, _against_ the wishes of the machine people who have really given -me my entire support, and _with_ the reformers, labor and otherwise, -who are truly against me whenever it comes down to anything really -important to me. We have just returned from a really delightful driving -trip to a quaint, clean, little inn at Crooked Lake, some eighteen -miles off. We drove out there Saturday with every child except Quentin, -and back again on Sunday. Everything went off without a hitch and Edith -and I enjoyed it as much as the children.... My love to Douglas and to -blessed little Corinne. Ever yours, T. R.” - -Nothing was more discouraging to my brother during his long and varied -career than the fact that the so-called reformers were frequently so -visionary that they were rarely, if ever, to be counted upon where an -effort to achieve a distinct practical purpose was concerned, but the -disappointments which he perpetually endured from this attribute never -induced him to yield to the machine politicians unless he felt that by -so doing he could achieve the higher end for which he always worked. - -A little later in May of that same year, 1899, he writes me in patient -answer to various questions: “In reference to my attitude on the bills -that have not passed, there are hundreds of people to whom, if I had -time, I should explain my attitude, but I have not the time. I have the -gravest kind of doubts, for instance, as to the advantages to the State -of our High School system, as at present carried out.... I strongly -believe that there has been a tendency amongst some of the best -educators recently to divert from mechanical trades, people who ought, -for their own sake, to keep in at the mechanical trades.” He was always -so willing to answer my questions, even when pressed by many harassing -affairs. - -From Oyster Bay, on July 17, 1899, he writes as one freed temporarily -from the cares of state, and speaking of my eldest boy, who was then -sixteen, he says: “I am afraid it is dull here for Teddy. You see, we -have no one here quite his age and he has passed the time when such a -simple pleasure as a scramble down Cooper’s Bluff appears enthralling, -although I take him down it nevertheless. He is a very fine fellow.... -I have been giving him information about his hunting trip.” Again the -painstaking effort to be helpful to me and mine, and, indeed, all those -who needed his help or advice. - -On December 18, having returned to Albany, he plans a hurried trip -to New York, and writes characteristically: “On Thursday, December -21st, may I have dinner at seven o’clock? If you are going out, do -remember, that seriously, I am quite as happy with bread and milk as -with anything else. Ever yours, Theodore Roosevelt.” What could be -more unusual than the governor of New York State being “quite as happy -with bread and milk as with anything else”! And I really think he was -rather happier with bread and milk than with anything else, much to the -occasional discomfort of the fastidious companions who sometimes ran -across his rather primitive path. - -My last letter of that year, and, indeed, of the period during which -he was governor, was late in December, 1899, and it ran as follows: -“On Saturday I find Senator Platt wants me to breakfast with him -at the Fifth Avenue.” That was one of the rare occasions when the -unfortunate senator induced the governor to part from his sister, -and the inevitable presence of that sister at the conferences which -Senator Platt quite naturally preferred to have alone with the -governor. The letter continues: “On Friday, at half past eight, -General Greene, Mr. F. S. Witherbee, Mr. Fox and Mr. MacFarlane will -give you the unexpected pleasure of breakfasting with you. Is this -all right?” Needless to say, it was all right; only, if I remember -correctly, a large number were added equally unexpectedly to the four -above-mentioned gentlemen. Those breakfasts were the most delightful -of meals. My brother’s friend Professor William M. Sloane in later -days was frequently a member of the breakfast-parties at my house, -and he used, laughingly, to remark that he wondered why we were all -bidden so promptly at half past eight when the gentleman who so sternly -called others from their comfortable beds on cold winter mornings at -that matutinal hour seemed always able to sit over the breakfast-table -until about eleven! That, however, was not the case in those early -gubernatorial days, for the young governor was pressed with too many -affairs to yield to his Southern inclination to “brood” over the -breakfast-table. - -In later days at the rare periods of comparative leisure, between 1910 -and 1912, the “half-hours at the breakfast-table” were prolonged into -several whole hours, and many a time my friend Mrs. Parsons and I have -listened to the most enchanting discussions on the part of Colonel -Roosevelt and Professor Sloane, dealing occasionally with Serb or -Rumanian literature or the intricacies of Napoleonic history. - -One luncheon during the time that my brother was governor stands out -clearly in my mind, owing to an amusing incident connected with it. -My dining-room at 422 Madison Avenue was small, and fourteen people -were the actual limit that it could hold. One day, he having told me -that he was bringing ten people to lunch, and realizing his hospitable -inclinations, I had had the table set for the limit of fourteen. We -were already thirteen in the sitting-room when the door-bell rang and, -looking out of the window, he turned to me with a troubled expression -and said: “I think I see two people coming up the front steps, and that -will make fifteen.” I suddenly decided to be unusually firm and said: -“Theodore, I have not places for fifteen; you said there would only be -ten. I am delighted to have fourteen, but you will have to tell one of -those two people that they will have to go somewhere else for lunch.” -He went out into the hall, and in a moment returned with one of his -beloved Rough Riders and an air of triumph on his face. I whispered, -“Were there really two, and who was the other, and what has happened -to him?” and he whispered back, like a child who has had a successful -result in some game, “Yes, there were two--the other was the president -of the University of ----. I told them they had to toss up, and the -Rough Rider won”--this with a chuckle of delight! - - - - -X - -HOW THE PATH LED TO THE WHITE HOUSE - - Frédéric Mistral, the Provençal poet, said of Theodore Roosevelt: - - C’est lui qui donne une nouvelle espérance à l’humanité. - - -Toward the spring of 1900, while my brother was in his second arduous -year of activity as governor of New York State, he came one afternoon -to my house, as he frequently did, for he made headquarters there -whenever he was in New York. I remember I was confined to my room -with an attack of grippe. The door-bell rang in the rapid, incisive -way which always marked his advent, and in a moment or two I heard -him come bounding up the stairs to my bedroom. He seemed to bring the -whole world of spring sunshine into the room with him, and before I -could say anything to greet him he called out: “Pussie, haven’t _we_ -had fun being governor of New York State?” I remember the grippe seemed -to leave me entirely. My heart was full of that elation which he alone -could give by his power of sharing everything with me. He sat down in a -rocking-chair by me and began to rock violently to and fro, every now -and then receding almost the whole length of the room as he talked, and -then rocking toward me with equal rapidity when he wished to emphasize -some special point in his conversation. When he stopped for breath, I -said laughingly, but with a certain serious undertone in the midst of -my laughter: “Theodore, are you not going to take a complete rest _some -time_ this summer? You certainly need it. It has been year after year, -one thing after another, more and more pressing all the time--civil -service commissioner, police commissioner, assistant secretary of -the navy, lieutenant-colonel, then colonel of the Rough Riders, and -all that that campaign meant, and now nearly two years of hard work -as governor of New York State. Surely, you must take some rest this -summer.” - -He looked back at me rather as one of my little boys would look if I -spoke to them somewhat harshly, and answered in a very childlike way: -“Yes, of course you are right. I do mean to take a rest of _one whole_ -month this summer.” I said: “That isn’t very much--one month, but still -it is better than nothing. Now, do you really mean that you are going -to rest for one whole month?” “Yes,” he answered, as if he were doing -me the greatest possible favor, “I really mean to rest one whole month. -I don’t mean to do one _single_ thing during that month--except write -a life of Oliver Cromwell.” How I laughed! What an idea of complete -rest--to write a life of Oliver Cromwell! And write a life of Oliver -Cromwell he did during that period of complete rest, but before he was -able to do it there came many another stirring event and change in the -outlook of his existence. - -Messrs. Platt and Odell, supposedly the arbiters of the fate of every -New York State governor, agreed that two years of Theodore Roosevelt in -the Executive Mansion at Albany was quite enough, and that come what -might, he should not have another term, and so they bent all their -subtle political acumen toward the achievement of their wish to remove -him. They would, however, have been thwarted in their purpose had not -the Western part of our country decided also that Theodore Roosevelt’s -name was necessary on the presidential ticket, to be headed, for a -second time, by William McKinley. - -The young governor, deeply absorbed in the many reforms which he had -inaugurated in the Empire State, was anything but willing to be, as he -felt he would be, buried in Washington as vice-president, but as the -time drew near for the Republican Convention of June, 1900, more and -more weight was thrown in the balance to persuade him to accept the -nomination. - -I have frequently said in these pages that one of the most endearing -characteristics of my brother was his desire to have my sister -and myself share in all of his interests, in his glory, or in his -disappointments, and so, when the convention at Philadelphia met, and -as the contending forces struggled around him, he telegraphed to my -husband and myself, who were then at our country home in New Jersey, -and begged us to come on to Philadelphia, and be near him during the -fray. Needless to say, we hurried to his side. - -I shall always remember arriving at that hotel in Philadelphia. How -hot those June days were, and how noisy and crowded the corridors of -the hotel were when we arrived! Blaring bands and marching delegations -seemed to render the hot air even more stifling, and I asked at once -to be shown to the room where Governor Roosevelt was. A messenger was -sent with me, and up in the elevator and through circuitous passages -we went, to a corner room overlooking a square. We knocked, but there -was no answer, and I softly opened the door, and there sat my brother -Theodore at a distant window with a huge volume upon his knees. The -soft air was blowing in the window, his back was turned to the door, -and he was as absolutely detached as if vice-presidential nominations, -political warfare, illicit and corrupt methods of all kinds in public -life were things not known to his philosophy. I tiptoed up behind him -and leaned over his shoulder, and saw that the great volume spread -out before him was the “History of Josephus”! I could not but laugh -aloud, for it seemed too quaint to think that he, the centre of all -the political animosity, should be quietly apart, perfectly absorbed -in the history of the Jews of a long-past day. As I laughed, he turned -and jumped to his feet, and in a moment Josephus was as much a thing -of the past as he actually was, and Theodore Roosevelt, the loving -brother, the humorous philosopher, the acute politician, was once more -in the saddle. In a moment, in a masterly manner, he had sketched the -situation for me: ‘Yes, Platt and Odell did want to eject him, that -was true, but it wasn’t only that. The West felt strongly, and the -Middle West as strongly, that his name was needed on the presidential -ticket. No, he didn’t want to give up a second term as governor of New -York State; he hated the thought of a vice-presidential burial-party, -but what was he to do? He didn’t really know himself.’ - -At that moment, without any ceremony, the door was thrown open, and -in marched the delegation from Kansas. Fife and drum and bugle headed -the delegation with more than discordant noises. Round and round the -room they went, monotonously singing to the accompaniment of the above -raucous instruments: “We want Teddy, we want Teddy, we want Teddy.” My -brother held up his hand, but nothing seemed to stop them. Over and -over again they filed solemnly around that sitting-room, and finally, -forming in a straight line, they metaphorically presented arms, and -stood for a moment silently before him. He stepped nearer to them -and, with a somewhat anxious tone in his voice, said: “Gentlemen of -Kansas, I know that you only want what is best for the country, and -incidentally what you think is best for me; but, my friends, I wish -you would withdraw your desire that I should be the candidate for the -vice-presidency. I _want_ another term as governor of New York State. -I have initiated a good many reforms that I think would help my native -state. I have made many appointments, and the people I have appointed -would feel that I have gone back on them if I can’t be there to help -them with their work. I am sure I could be of more use to my country -as governor of New York State than as vice-president. I wish you would -change your minds and help me to do the thing which I think is the best -thing to do.” The delegation from Kansas looked the pleader gently but -firmly in the eye. The fife and drum and bugle struck up its monotonous -sound again. The leader of the Kansas delegation turned, and, with -all his followers, once more they marched slowly and steadfastly -around that room, making no answer to Governor Roosevelt except the -indomitable refrain of “We want Teddy, we want Teddy, we want Teddy,” -which sounded for a long while down the corridor. As we listened to -their retreating footsteps, he turned to me with a look of mingled -amusement and despair in his eyes, and said: “What can I do with such -people? But aren’t they good fellows!” - -And so, as is now well known to history, the Kansas delegation and -other like delegations had their way. Mr. Platt and Mr. Odell thought -_they_ had _their_ way too, and at one of the most exciting conventions -at which I have ever been present--dominated in masterful fashion by -the unique personality of Mark Hanna--Theodore Roosevelt was made the -nominee for the second place on the ticket of the Republican party of -1900. One little incident occurred the next morning which I have always -felt had a certain prophetic quality about it. An article appeared in -one of the Philadelphia papers, signed by that inimitable humorist, the -brilliant philosopher, Peter Dunne, alias “Mr. Dooley.” I wish I could -find the article--I kept it for a long while--but this is about the way -it ran: - -“Tiddy Rosenfeldt came to the Convintion in his Rough Rider suit -and his sombrero hat and his khaki clothes, trying to look as -inconspichuous as possible, and as soon as he got there Platt fill on -his chist and Odell sat on his stummick and they tried to crush him -and squeeze the life out of him. And they _think_ they have done it, -and perhaps they have, but, Hinnessey, they needn’t be quite so sure, -for Tiddy Rosenfeldt will get somewhere no matter what happens, _even -though the path lies through the cimitery!_” - -Whether “Mr. Dooley” simply meant that as vice-presidents had always -been supposed to be dead men as far as future preferment was concerned, -or whether, with prophetic touch, he visualized the horror that was -to come, and the way in which Theodore Roosevelt’s path to a higher -position actually did lie “through the cemetery,” I know not, but those -were approximately the very words which appeared in that Philadelphia -newspaper the morning after Roosevelt was nominated as candidate for -vice-president on the McKinley ticket. - -Later in the autumn he started on one of the most strenuous campaigns -of his life, and swung around the country asking for Republican support -for William McKinley’s second term. Just before Election day he was to -return to New York to make his final address at Madison Square Garden. -As usual, he was to spend the night before and the night of the meeting -at my house. Just before he was to arrive I received a telegram saying -that his voice was entirely gone from the strain of weeks of speaking, -and would I please have a throat doctor at the house on his arrival to -treat his throat. Of course I arranged that this should be done, and he -arrived, bright and gay, although distinctly hoarse. The doctor treated -him, and he was ordered to keep perfectly still during the evening. We -went up to the library after dinner, and I said to him: “Now, Theodore, -we must only have a few minutes’ talk, and then you must go to bed.” -“But,” he said, “I must tell you a few of the very funny incidents -that happened on my trip.” And with that he began--my husband and I -feeling very conscience-stricken, but so fascinated that we had not the -strength of mind to stop him. Suddenly, to our perfect surprise, the -early morning light crept in through the windows, the milk-wagons began -to rattle in the streets, and we realized that the dawn of another day -had come, and that the future vice-president had outraged his doctor’s -orders and had talked all night long! And such stories as they were, -too; I shall never forget them. One after another, he pictured to us -the various audiences, the wonderful receptions, the unique chairmen of -the different meetings. There was always a “bellowing” chairman, as he -expressed it, or else one whose ineffectual voice did not reach even -the first circle of the huge audiences that gathered everywhere to hear -him. Out in the Far West eight-horse vehicles would meet the trains -on which the nominees travelled, and inadvertent bands would blow in -the ears of “shotgun” teams that had never been hitched up before, -with such astounding results as the complete loss of the whole team at -once, which necessitated the dragging of the carriage by ardent cowboy -admirers, or, worse luck, eventuated in terrifying runaways, which, -however, never seemed to produce anything but casual discomfort. - -Mr. Curtis Guild, of Boston, and Judge John Proctor Clarke accompanied -Governor Roosevelt on this trip, and on one occasion the aforesaid -“bellowing” chairman introduced my brother as “one whose name was known -from shore to shore and whose life story was part of every fireside, -and whose deeds were household words from the Atlantic to the Pacific.” -Finding that this introduction was greeted with vociferous applause, he -then made use of the same extravagant exaggeration in introducing Mr. -Guild. The only trouble in the latter case was that, after stertorously -repeating the aforesaid introduction, the chairman suddenly forgot the -name of the second speaker, “so well known from the Atlantic to the -Pacific,” and turned with solemn disapproval to the refined New England -statesman, whispering hoarsely: “What in h---- is your name, anyway?” - -Such were the tales with which he regaled us that too-short night in -November, 1900. Any other man, having so disobeyed the doctor’s stern -commands to refrain from using his voice, would have been punished the -following evening by not having any voice at all; but, on the contrary, -his tones were clear and strong, his personality vital and inspiring, -as he leaned from the platform toward the thousands of cheering human -beings in the great Madison Square Garden, to put the finishing touch -on that stirring campaign for the second nomination of McKinley. - -The inauguration in Washington, in March, 1901, had a peculiar charm -about it. Perhaps one felt this charm especially because of the youth -of the Vice-President and of his wife, and because of the contrast -between those two happy young people and the more serious President, -weighed down as he was with many cares, the greatest of which was his -loving anxiety for his fragile little wife. - -Because we were the sisters of the Vice-President, Mrs. McKinley sent -for my sister, Mrs. Cowles, and me just after the inauguration, and I -remember very well the touching quality of that dainty personality, -in whose faded face was the remains of exquisite beauty. She received -us up-stairs in her bedroom, and by her side was a table on which was -a little Austrian vase in which bloomed one superb red rose. As we -sat down she pointed to the rose with her delicate little hand, and -said softly: “My dearest love brought me that rose. He always brings -me a rose every day, Mrs. Robinson.” And then, a faint smile flitting -over her face, she said: “My dearest love is very good to me. Every -evening he plays eight or ten games of cribbage with me, and I think -he sometimes _lets_ me win.” I remember the feeling in my heart when -she spoke those words, as I thought of the man in the White House, -oppressed with many cares; even, perhaps, at the time when the shadow -of the war with Spain hung over his troubled head, sitting down with -gentle affection and quiet self-control to play “eight or ten games of -cribbage,” “one for his nob, and two for his heels,” with the pathetic -little creature from whom the tender love of his early youth had never -swerved. - -The scenes outside of the White House connected with the young -Vice-President were very different. In the home of my sister, Mrs. -Cowles, where we all stayed for the inauguration, quaint happenings -occurred. A certain Captain ----, a great admirer of my brother, -telegraphed that he was sending from Thorley’s florist shop in New -York a “floral tribute” to be erected wherever the Vice-President was -staying. My sister’s house was moderate in size, but that made no -difference to Captain ----. That “floral tribute” had to be erected. -It cost, if I remember rightly, in the neighborhood of three thousand -dollars. (My brother laughingly but pathetically said it was about -half of his income at the time, and he wished the tribute could have -been added to the income.) It had to be erected, and erected it was. -It arrived in long boxes, painfully suggestive of coffins, much to -the delight of the young members of the family, who were also staying -with my always hospitable sister. There, for a whole day, three men -worked haggardly building the “tribute,” until the whole front room -of my sister’s house (which was much in demand for large numbers of -delegations who wished to pay their respects to my brother) was filled -in every nook and cranny by this enormous and marvellous structure, -which reached from wall to wall and up to the ceiling. The overworked -and tired men who created it were so exhausted by the questions of the -small members of the Roosevelt and Robinson family that toward the -end of the afternoon they sent word to Mrs. Cowles that unless those -children were sent out of the house, that “tribute” would never be -finished. Finished it was, however, and we were almost suffocated by -the sweetness of its scents, and it was all that we could do, in spite -of our spontaneous gaiety, to rise above the semifunereal feeling that -this mass of conventional flowers produced upon the atmosphere of the -whole house. - -The inaugural ball was really a charming sight, but was shadowed for -the presidential party by the fact that Mrs. McKinley was not well a -short while before it took place. She was able to be present, however, -in her box, but the shade of sadness was heavy on the President’s face; -and the people, for that very reason, turned with peculiar pleasure to -the care-free younger couple, who were asked to come down from the box, -and to walk in stately fashion once around the room, to the infinite -admiration of the many interested observers. - -After the inauguration my brother retired quietly to Oyster Bay, and -it was from there on April 15, 1901, that he wrote me one of his most -characteristic notes. At that time, as in the days of his governorship, -he would frequently notify his friends to meet him and lunch with him -at my house, much to my delight. On this particular occasion, he had -invited so incongruous an assortment of people that he decided that -one or two more equally incongruous would be advisable, and writes -as follows: “Darling Corinne: Inasmuch as we are to have Cocky Locky, -Henny Penny and Goosey Poosey at lunch, why omit Foxy Loxy? I am -anxious to see Dr. R---- and I do hope you will ask him to lunch on -Thursday also. Ever yours, T. R.” - -That lunch-party proved to be a great success, as did various others -later; and then came a moment, for me, of serious anxiety when my -eldest boy was stricken with diphtheria in college. At once many loving -letters came from Oyster Bay--and later, when the young freshman had -recovered from his illness, and I was at my home on Orange Mountain, -the newly inaugurated Vice-President acceded to my wish that he should -come to my home, where my husband and I had lived all our young married -life, and be the hero and excitement of the neighborhood at a reception -on my lawn. It proved a hot day in July, but his pleasure in meeting -all my friends was unabated, and he took special interest in my butcher -and grocer and fish man and ice man, and the kindly farming people -who had been devoted to my husband’s mother as well as to me for many -years. At the end of the day he resuscitated with tender care an old -veteran of the Civil War, who had stumbled up the hill in the blinding -heat to pay his respects to the colonel of the Rough Riders, now -Vice-President of the United States. - -That same summer he engineered a sailing trip for his little boys and -mine, and writes me in answer to a request from me to know how much -I owed for the trip: “About $12 would cover completely your boys’ -share of the expenses. It is just like you to want to pay it, but I -would like to feel that for this trivial matter your two boys were my -guests. So if you don’t mind, I am going to ask you to _sacrifice_ your -feelings. As I have told you the extent of the obligation, and it is -surely _not_ heavy, let me continue to stand as the munificent host!” - -Once that summer during his “month’s rest,” of which I have already -spoken at the beginning of this chapter, I spent a night at Sagamore -Hill, and my sister-in-law, Mrs. Roosevelt, said to me that she was -anxious about my brother. The “rest” did not quite agree with him, -and the prospect of a more or less sedentary life in his new position -weighed on the active initiative of his mind. - -A little later they went to a hunting-lodge in the Adirondacks, and all -the world knows what happened on September 6, 1901. Then came the great -anxiety as to whether Mr. McKinley would recover from the assassin’s -onslaught, and on September 14, he succumbed to the weakness engendered -by his wound. While the dramatic drive from the Adirondack Mountains, -where Theodore Roosevelt was found, was in process, I, the only member -of the Roosevelt family near New York, was inundated in my Orange -Mountain home by reporters. That evening after receiving a number of -reporters and giving them what slight information I could give, I said -that I could not stand the strain any longer, that I could not be -interviewed any more, and with the dear cousin, John Elliott, who had -been our early childhood companion, and who happened to be visiting -me, I went into my writing-room, shut the door to the world outside, -and a strange coincidence occurred. My sister-in-law, Mrs. Theodore -Roosevelt, had shortly before returned to me a number of childhood -letters which we had exchanged, first as little children, and then as -growing girls, for we had always been very intimate friends. These -letters were in a box on my writing-table, and I said to my cousin -John: “Let us forget all these terrible things that are happening, and -for a moment, at least, go back into our merry, care-free past. Here -are these letters. I am going to pick one out at random and see how it -will remind us of our childhood days.” - -So speaking, I put my hand into the box and proceeded to draw out a -letter. Curiously enough, as I opened the yellow envelope and the -sheets fell from it, I saw that it was dated from Washington in 1877, -and looking more closely I read aloud the words: - -“Dearest Corinne: Today, for the first time, I went to the White -House. Oh, how much I wished for you. It seemed so wonderful to me to -be in the old mansion which had been the home of President Lincoln, -and which is so connected with all our country’s history. It gave me -a feeling of awe and excitement. I wish you could have been here to -share the feeling with me, for I don’t suppose it is likely that we -shall ever be in the White House together, and it would have been so -interesting to have exchanged our memories of things that had happened -in that wonderful old house. But how unlikely it is that you or I shall -ever come in contact with anything connected with the White House.” - -As I read these words, I exclaimed with astonishment, for it did seem a -curious freak of fate that almost at the very moment that I was reading -the lines penned by the girl of fifteen, an unexpected turn of the -wheel had made that same young girl the lady of the White House. - - - - -XI - -HOME LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE - - Uncrowned the brow, - Where truth and courage meet, - The citizen alone confronts the land. - - * * * * * - - A man whose dreamful, valiant mind conceives - High purpose, consecrated to his race. - - --Margaret Ridgely Partridge. - - -The deed of the cowardly assassin had done its work. William McKinley -was dead; the young Vice-President had made the hazardous trip from -the heart of the Adirondack Mountains, had taken the solemn oath in -Buffalo, had followed the body of his chief to the final resting-place, -and had returned to Washington. From Washington he telegraphed to my -husband and myself, with the thought which he always showed, and told -us that as Mrs. Roosevelt was attending to last important matters -at Sagamore, she could not be with him the day he moved into the -White House, and that he was very anxious that not only my sister, -Mrs. Cowles, and her husband, but that we also should dine with him -the first night that he slept in the old mansion. So we went on to -Washington, and were with him at that first meal in the house for which -he had such romantic attachment because it had sheltered the hero of -his boyhood and manhood, Abraham Lincoln. As we sat around the table -he turned and said: “Do you realize that this is the birthday of our -father, September 22? I have realized it as I signed various papers -all day long, and I feel that it is a good omen that I begin my duties -in this house on this day. I feel as if my father’s hand were on my -shoulder, and as if there were a special blessing over the life I am -to lead here.” Almost as he finished this sentence, the coffee was -passed to us, and at that time it was the habit at the White House to -pass with the coffee a little boutonnière to each gentleman. As the -flowers were passed to the President, the one given to him was a yellow -saffronia rose. His face flushed, and he turned again and said: “Is it -not strange! This is the rose we all connect with my father.” My sister -and I responded eagerly that many a time in the past we had seen our -father pruning the rose-bush of saffronia roses with special care. He -always picked one for his buttonhole from that bush, and whenever we -gave him a rose, we gave him one of those. Again my brother said, with -a very serious look on his face, “I think there is a blessing connected -with this,” and surely it did seem as if there were a blessing -connected with those years of Theodore Roosevelt in the White House; -those merry happy years of family life, those ardent, loving years -of public service, those splendid, peaceful years of international -amity--a blessing there surely was over that house. - -Nothing could have been harder to the temperament of Theodore Roosevelt -than to have come “through the cemetery,” as Peter Dunne said in his -prophetic article, to the high position of President of the United -States. What he had achieved in the past was absolutely through his own -merits. To him to come to any position through “dead men’s shoes” was -peculiarly distasteful; but during the early years of his occupancy -of the White House, feeling it his duty so to do, he strove in every -possible way to fulfil the policies of his predecessor, retaining his -appointees and working with conscientious loyalty as much as possible -along the lines laid down by President McKinley. - -That first winter of his incumbency was one of special interest. Many -were the difficulties in his path. England, and, indeed, all foreign -countries were watching him with deep interest. I realized that fact in -a very special way as that very spring of 1902 I took my young daughter -abroad to place her at a French school directed by Mademoiselle -Souvestre in England. It was the spring when preparations were being -made for the coronation of King Edward VII, and because of the fact -that I was the sister of the President of the United States, I was -received with great courtesy. Our dear friend Mr. Joseph H. Choate was -then ambassador to England. Mrs. Choate presented me at court, and the -King paid me the unusual compliment--out of respect to my brother--of -leaving the dais on which he and the Queen stood, and came forward to -greet me personally in order to ask for news of my brother. Special -consideration was shown to me in so many ways that when Mr. Robinson -and I were visiting Edinburgh, it seemed in no way unusual that we -should be invited to Holyrood Castle to the reception given by the -lord high commissioner, Lord Leven and Melville. It so happened that -we were in Edinburgh during that week of festivity when the lord high -commissioner of Scotland, appointed as special representative of the -King of Great Britain, holds court in the old castle as though he were -actually the King. - -We had dined with friends before the reception, and were therefore late -in reaching the castle, and were literally the last people at the end -of the long queue approaching the dais on which Lord and Lady Leven and -Melville stood. As King Edward had himself stepped forward to meet me -in Buckingham Palace, I was not surprised when Lord Leven and Melville -stepped down from the dais, and I expected him also to ask news of my -brother, the President of the United States, as King Edward had done, -but to my great surprise, and be it confessed intense pleasure, I heard -the lord high commissioner speak as follows: “Mrs. Douglas Robinson, -you have been greeted with special courtesy in our country because of -your distinguished brother, the President of the United States, but -I am greeting you with even greater interest because of your father, -the first Theodore Roosevelt. You probably do not remember, for you -were a little girl at the time, that a raw-boned young Scotchman named -Ronald Leslie Melville came long ago to New York and was much at your -home, having had letters of introduction to your father as one of the -men best fitted to teach him the modern philanthropic methods used in -America. Only to-day,” he continued, “I told the children of Edinburgh, -assembled, as is the custom, to listen to the lord high commissioner, -that the father of the present President of the United States was the -first man who taught me to _love_ my fellow men.” - -My heart was very full as I made my courtesy and answered the lord high -commissioner. Before he let me pass on he said, with a charming smile: -“If you and Mr. Robinson will come tomorrow to lunch with us quietly -I will take you to Lord Darnley’s room, which is my dressing-room -during the week of Holyrood festivities, and on my dressing-table -you will see the photograph of your father, for I never go anywhere -without it.” I accepted the invitation gladly, and the next day we -went to Holyrood Castle, lunched informally with the delightful -chatelain and chatelaine, and I was taken, as the former promised, to -see Lord Damley’s room, where my father’s face smiled at me from the -dressing-table. My brother loved to hear me tell this story, and I feel -that it is not amiss to include it in any recollections concerning my -brother, for he was truly the spirit of my father reincarnate. - -In May, 1902, Mrs. Roosevelt writes that “Theodore” is just about -to leave for a hunting trip, which she hopes will “rest” him. (The -rest the year before, of writing a life of Oliver Cromwell, had not -been made quite strenuous enough for a real rest!) Later he returned -and made a famous speech in Providence, a speech epoch-making, and -recognized as such by an English newspaper, _The Morning Post_ of -August 27, 1902, a clipping from which I have at hand, and which runs -as follows: - -“Our New York correspondent announced yesterday that President -Roosevelt’s great speech at Providence on the subject of ‘Trusts’ is -regarded on all sides and by both parties as an absolutely epoch-making -event. This is not surprising to those who have studied the conditions -of American politics, and the merits of the particular economic -question involved, so far as they are intelligible to us, or last -but by no means least, the character and personality of President -Roosevelt. It would now seem that the people of the United States are -at the parting of the ways between the corrupt, old political system -and a newer, manlier, honester conception of public rights and duties.” - -Perhaps this sentence foreshadows more than any other contemporary -expression the enormous instrument for honesty in high places in the -history of his country which it was Theodore Roosevelt’s destiny to be. - -Mingled with these great cares and far-reaching issues came, later, -brighter moments, and it was about that time that during an interval -of play at Oyster Bay, he started the custom of his famous “obstacle -walks.” He would gather all the little cousins and his own children and -mine, if I could bring them down for a week-end, on Sunday afternoon -at Sagamore Hill (even an occasional “grown person” was considered -sufficiently adventurous to be included in the party), and would start -on one of the strenuous scrambles which he called an “obstacle walk.” -It was more like a game than a walk, for it had rules and regulations -of its own, the principal one being that each participant should follow -the presidential leader “over or through” any obstacle but never -“around.” There were sometimes as many as twenty little children as -we stood on the top of Cooper’s Bluff, a high sand-bank overlooking -the Sound, ready for the word “go,” and all of them children were agog -with excitement at the probable obstacles in their path. As we stood on -the brink of the big sand-bank, my brother would turn with an amused -twinkle in his eye and say: “There is a little path down the side, but -I always jump off the top.” This, needless to say, was in the form of -a challenge, which he always accompanied by a laugh and a leap into -the air, landing on whatever portion of his body happened to be the -one that struck the lower part of the sand-bank first. Then there -would be a shout from the children, and every one would imitate his -method of progress, I myself, generally the only other grown person, -bringing up the rear rather reluctantly but determined not to have to -follow the other important rule of the game, which was that if you -could not succeed in going “over or through” that you should put your -metaphorical tail between your physical legs and return home. You were -not jeered at, no disagreeable remark was directed at you, but your -sense of failure was humiliation enough. - -Having reached the foot of the bank in this promiscuous fashion, -we would all sit on stones and take off our shoes and stockings to -shake the quantities of sand therefrom, and then start on the real -business of the day. With a sense of great excitement we watched our -leader and the devious course he pursued while finding the most trying -obstacles to test our courage. I remember one day seeing in our path -an especially unpleasant-looking little bathing-house with a very -steep roof like a Swiss chalet. I looked at it with sudden dismay, -for I realized that only the very young and slender could chin up its -slippery sides, and I hoped that the leader of the party would deflect -his course. Needless to say, he did not, and I can still see the -somewhat sturdy body of the then President of the United States hurling -itself at the obstruction and with singular agility chinning himself -to the top and sliding down on the other side. The children stormed it -with whoops of delight, but I thought I had come to my Waterloo. Just -as I had decided that the moment had come for that ignominious retreat -of which I have already spoken, I happened to notice a large rusty -nail on one side of the unfinished shanty, and I thought to myself: -“If I _can_ get a footing on that nail, then perhaps I _can_ get my -hands to the top of that sloping roof, and if I _can_ get my hands -there, perhaps by Herculean efforts I too can chin myself over the -other side.” Nothing succeeds like success, for having performed this -almost impossible feat and having violently returned into the midst -of my anxious group of fellow pedestrians, very much as the little boy -does on his sled on the steepest snow-clad hill, I was greeted with -an ovation such as I have never received in later life for the most -difficult achievement, literary or philanthropic! From that moment I -was regarded as one really fit to take part in the beloved “obstacle -walks,” which were, I cannot help but think, strong factors in planting -in the hearts and characters of the children who thus followed their -leader, the indomitable pluck and determination which helped the -gallant sons and nephews of Theodore Roosevelt to go undauntedly “over -the top” on Flanders Field. - -“Over or through, never around”--a good motto, indeed, for Young -America, and one which was always exemplified by that American of -Americans, my brother, Theodore Roosevelt. - -At the end of October that year, his affectionate concern for me (for I -was delicate at the time) takes form in a lovely letter in which, after -giving me the best of advice, and acknowledging humorously that no one -ever really took advice offered, he says: “Heaven bless you always -whether you take my advice or not.” He never failed to show loving and -tender interest in the smallest of my pleasures or anxieties, nor did -he and Mrs. Roosevelt ever fail to invite, at my instigation, elderly -family friends to lunch at the White House, or gladly to send me -autographs for many little boys, or checks to “Dolly,” the nurse of his -childhood, whose advanced years I superintended. - -In April, 1903, he started on a long trip, and at that time felt that, -as the years of his inherited incumbency were drawing to a close, he -could forward his own gospel. A humorous reference comes in a letter -just before he starts, in which he says: “I was immensely amused -with Monroe’s message [my second son, then at St. Paul’s School] -about boxing and confirmation, the one evidently having some occult -connection with the other in his mind. Give him my love when you -write.... Well, I start on a nine-weeks’ trip tomorrow, as hard a trip -as I have ever undertaken, with the sole exception of the canvass in -1900. As a whole, it will be a terrific strain, but there will be an -occasional day which I shall enjoy.” - -Again, as he actually starts on that “hard” trip, he sends me a little -line of never-failing love. “White House, April 1, 1903. [This in his -own writing.] Darling Pussie: Just a last line of Good-bye. I am so -glad your poor hand is better at last. Love to dear old Douglas. The -house seems strange and lonely without the children. Ever yours, T. R.” -Those little notes in his own dear handwriting, showing always the -loving thought, are especially precious and treasured. - -After that exhausting journey, replete with many thrilling experiences, -he returns to Oyster Bay for a little rest, and writes with equal -interest of the beautiful family life which was always led there. -My boy Stewart was with him at the time, and he speaks of him -affectionately in connection with his own “Ted,” who was Stewart’s -intimate friend: - -“Stewart, Ted and I took an hour and a half bareback ride all together. -Ted is always longing that Stewart should go off on a hunting trip -with him. I should be delighted to have them go off now. Although I -think no doubt they would get _into_ scrapes, I have also no doubt that -they would get _out of_ them. We have had a lovely summer, as lovely -a summer as we have ever passed. All the children have enjoyed their -various activities, and we have been a great deal with the children, -and in addition to that, Edith and I have ridden on horseback much -together, and have frequently gone off for a day at a time in a little -row boat, not to speak of the picnics to which everybody went. - -“In the intervals I have chopped industriously. I have seen a great -many people who came to call upon me on political business. I have had -to handle my correspondence of course, and I have had not a few wearing -matters of national policy, ranging from the difficulties in Turkey to -the scandals in the Post Office. But I have had three months of rest, -of holiday, by comparison with what has gone before. Next Monday I go -back to Washington, and for the thirteen months following, there will -be mighty little let-up to the strain. But I enjoy it to the full. - -“What the outcome will be as far as I am personally concerned, I do -not know. It looks as if I would be renominated; whether I shall -be re-elected I haven’t the slightest idea. I know there is bitter -opposition to me from many sources. Whether I shall have enough support -to overcome this opposition, I cannot tell. I suppose few Presidents -can form the slightest idea whether their policies have met with -approval or not. Certainly _I_ cannot. But as far as I can see, these -policies have been right, and I hope that time will justify them. If it -doesn’t why I must abide the fall of the dice, and that is all there is -to it. Ever yours, T. R.” - -That letter is very characteristic of his usual attitude. Strain, yes; -hard work, yes; but equally “I enjoy it to the full”! Equally also was -he willing to abide by the “fall of the dice,” having done what he -fully believed to have been the right thing for the country. - -That December, the day after Christmas, he writes again: - -“Darling Sister: I so enjoyed seeing you here, but I have been so -worried about you. I am now looking forward to Stewart’s coming, and to -seeing Helen and Ted. But I do wish you would take a rest. - -“We had a delightful Christmas yesterday, just such a Christmas as -thirty or forty years ago we used to have under Father’s and Mother’s -supervision in 28 East 20th Street. At seven all the children came -in to open the big, bulging stockings in our bed; Kermit’s terrier, -Allan, a most friendly little dog, adding to the children’s delight -by occupying the middle of the bed. From Alice to Quentin, each child -was absorbed in his or her stocking, and Edith certainly managed to -get the most wonderful stocking toys.... Then after breakfast we all -went into the library, where the bigger toys were on separate tables -for the children. I wonder whether there ever can come in life a -thrill of greater exaltation and rapture than that which comes to one, -say between the ages of six and fourteen, when the library doors are -thrown open and one walks in to see all the gifts, like a materialized -fairyland, arrayed on one’s own special table. - -“We had a most pleasant lunch at Bamie’s [our sister, Mrs. Cowles]. She -had given a delightful Christmas tree to the children the afternoon -before, and then I stopped in to see Cabot and Nannie [Senator and Mrs. -Lodge]. It was raining so hard that we could not walk or ride with any -comfort, so Roly Fortescue, Ted and I played ‘single stick’ in the -study later. All of our connections and all of the Lodge connections -were at dinner with us, twenty-two in all. After the dinner we danced -in the ‘East Room,’ closing with the Virginia Reel,--Edith looking as -young and as pretty, and dancing as well as ever. - -“It is a clear, cold morning, and Edith and I and all the children -(save Quentin) and also Bob Ferguson and Cabot are about to start for a -ride. Your loving brother.” - -Such were all Christmases at the White House; such was the spirit of -the White House in those days. - -During the early years of my brothers presidency, my husband and I -always spent Thanksgiving at the White House, and joined in festivities -very much like the Christmas ones, including the gay Virginia reel, -which was also part, always, of the Thanksgiving ceremony. After they -bought a little place in Virginia, they spent their Thanksgiving -anniversary there. - -During the following winter, I visited the White House more frequently -than usual, and enjoyed the special ceremonies such as the diplomatic -dinner, judicial reception, etc., and I used to station myself near the -President when he was receiving the long line of eager fellow citizens, -and watch his method of welcoming his guests. Almost always he would -have some special word for each, and although the long line would -not be held back, for he was so rapid in speech that the individual -welcome would hardly take a moment, still almost every person who -passed him would have had that extraordinary sense that he or she was -personally recognized. It was either a reference to the splendid old -veteran father of one, or some devoted sacrifice on the part of the -mother of another, or a deed of valor of the person himself, or a merry -reminiscence of hunting or Rough Rider warfare; but with each and every -person who passed in what seemed occasionally an interminable line, -there was immediately established a personal sense of relationship. -Perhaps that was, of all my brother’s attributes, the most endearing, -namely, that power of his of injecting himself into the life of the -other person and of making that other person realize that he was not -just an indifferent lump of humanity, but a living and breathing -individual coming in contact with another individual even more vividly -alive. - -After my own visit of special festivity I apparently suggest certain -people for him to ask to the White House, or at least I ask him to -see them, for in a letter, also in his own handwriting, on February -21, 1904, he says: “Thank you for suggesting F. W. I am glad you told -me; it was thoughtful of you. I will also try to see B----, but I -don’t know whether it will do any good. He is a kind, upright, typical -bourgeois of the purely mercantile type; and however much we respect -each other, we live in widely different and sundered worlds.” So -characteristic, this last sentence. Willing he always was to try to do -what I wished or thought wise, but also he was always frank in giving -me the reason why he felt my wish, in some cases, would bear but little -fruit. The bourgeois, mercantile type did indeed live in a different -and sundered world from that of the practical idealist, Theodore -Roosevelt. - -In the summer of 1904, when again I was far from well, he writes from -the White House, August 14: “Darling Corinne: The news in your letter -greatly worried me. I wish I could call to see you and try to amuse -you. I think of you always. Let me know at once, or have Douglas let me -know, how you are. Edith came back here for a week with me, and we had -a real honeymoon time together. Then she went back to the children.... -Every spare moment has been occupied with preparing my letter of -acceptance. No one can tell how the election will turn out; but I am -more than content, whatever comes, for I have been able to do much that -was worth doing. With love to Douglas and very, very much love to you, -I am, Your devoted Brother.” In the midst of the pressing cares of the -administration and the fatigue of his letter of acceptance he still has -time for the usual unfailing interest in me and mine! - -On October 18, again my brother writes: - -“Of course, I am excited about the election, but there really isn’t -much I can do about it, and I confine myself chiefly to the regular -presidential work. Nobody can tell anything about the outcome. At the -present time, it looks rather favorable to me.” And again to my husband -on October 25: “As for the result, the Lord only knows what it will be. -Appearances look favorable, but I have a mind steeled for any outcome!” - -In spite of his “mind steeled for any outcome,” the one great ambition -of Theodore Roosevelt’s life was to be chosen President on his own -merits by the people of the United States. He longed for the seal of -approval on the devoted service which he had rendered to his country, -and one of my clearest memories is my conversation with him on Election -day, 1904, when on his way back from voting at Oyster Bay, I met him -at Newark, N. J., and went with him as far as Philadelphia. In his -private drawing-room on the car, he opened his heart to me, and told -me that he had never wanted anything in his life quite as much as the -outward and visible sign of his country’s approval of what he had done -during the last three and a half years. I frankly do not feel that this -wish was because of any overweening ambition on his part, but to the -nature of Theodore Roosevelt it had always been especially difficult to -have come into the great position which he held through a calamity to -another rather than as the personal choice of the people of the United -States. His temperament was such that he wished no favor which he had -not himself won. Therefore, it seemed to him a crucial moment in his -life when, on his own merit, he was to be judged as fit or unfit to be -his own successor. Not only for those reasons did he wish to be elected -in his own right, but because, as was the case in former days when -he wished to be renominated governor of New York State, he had again -initiated many reforms, and had made many appointments, and he wished -to carry those reforms into effect and to back up those appointments -with his own helpfulness and prestige. - -When we parted in Philadelphia, I to return to my home in Orange -and he to go on to meet this vital moment of his career, I remember -feeling a poignant anxiety about the result of the election, and it -can well be understood the joy I felt that evening when the returns -proved him overwhelmingly successful at the polls. Late at night, we -received a telegram from the White House directed to Mr. and Mrs. -Douglas Robinson in answer to our wire sent earlier in the evening. It -ran as follows: “Was glad to hear from you. Only wish you were with us -this evening.” The next morning I received a letter, only a few lines -but infinitely characteristic. They were penned by my brother upon -his arrival at the White House after we had parted in Philadelphia, -some hours before he knew anything of the election returns. In this -letter he describes his sudden reaction from the condition of nervous -excitement from which he had suffered during the day. He says: “As I -mounted the White House steps, Edith came to meet me at the door, and -I suddenly realized that, after all, no matter what the outcome of the -election should prove to be; my _happiness_ was assured, even though my -ambition to have the seal of approval put upon my administration might -not be gratified,--for my life with Edith and my children constitutes -my _happiness_.” This little note posted to me on the eve of his great -victory showed clearly his sense of proportion and his conception of -true values. - -On November 11, 1904, he writes again: “Darling Corinne: I received -your letter. I have literally but one moment in which to respond, for I -am swamped with letters and telegrams. We have received between eight -and ten thousand. I look forward with keen eagerness to seeing you and -Douglas.” - -And so the crucial moment was over, and by a greater majority than had -ever before been known in this country, the man of destiny had come -into his own, and Theodore Roosevelt, acclaimed by all the people whom -he had served so faithfully, was, in his own right and through no sad -misfortune, President of the United States of America. - -Almost immediately after the excitement of the election, namely, on -November 12, 1904, my brother writes to my husband: “If you and Corinne -could come on with us to the St. Louis Fair, it would be the greatest -possible delight. Now, for Heaven’s sake, don’t let anything interfere -with both of your coming.” - -Needless to say, we accepted the invitation joyfully, and the trip to -the St. Louis Fair was one of our most unique experiences. Coming as -it did almost immediately after the great victory of his overwhelming -election, wherever the train stopped he received a tremendous ovation, -and my memory of him during the transit is equally one of cheering -groups and swarming delegations. - -In spite of the noise and general excitement, whenever he had a spare -moment of quiet, I noticed that he always returned to his own special -seat in a corner of the car, and became at once completely absorbed in -two large volumes which were always ready on his chair for him. The -rest of us would read irrelevantly, perhaps, talk equally irrelevantly, -and the hours sped past; but my brother, when he was not actually -receiving delegations or making an occasional impromptu speech at the -rear end of the car to the patient, waiting groups who longed to show -him their devotion, would return in the most detached and focussed -manner to the books in which he absorbed himself. - -Our two days at St. Louis were the type of days only led by a -presidential party at a fair. Before experiencing them I had thought -it would be rather “grand” to be a President’s sister, with the -aforesaid President when he opened a great fair. “Grand” it certainly -was, but the exhaustion outbalanced the grandeur. I ran steadily for -forty-eight hours without one moment’s intermission. My brother never -seemed to walk at all, and my whole memory of the St. Louis Fair is -a perpetual jog-trot, only interrupted by interminable receptions, -presentations of gifts, lengthy luncheons and lengthier evening -banquets, and I literally remember _no night_ at all! Whether we never -went to bed during the time we were at the fair, or exactly what -happened to the nights after twelve o’clock, is more than I can say. -At the end of the time allotted for the fair, after the last long -banquet, we returned to our private car, and I can still see the way in -which my sister-in-law (she was not _born_ a Roosevelt!) fell into her -stateroom. I was about to follow her example (it was midnight) when my -brother turned to me in the gayest possible manner and said: “Not going -to bed, are you!” “Well,” I replied, “I _had thought_ of it.” “But no,” -he said; “I told my stenographer this morning to rest all day, for I -knew that I would need her services to-night, and now she is perfectly -rested.” I interrupted him: “But, Theodore, you never told _me_ to rest -all day. I have been following you all day--” He laughed, but firmly -said: “Sit right down here. You will be sorry if you go to bed. I am -going to do something that is very interesting. William Rhodes has -asked me to review his second and third volumes of the ‘History of the -United States.’ You may have noticed I was reading those volumes on the -way from Washington. I feel just like doing it now. The stenographer is -rested, and as for you, it will do you a great deal of good, because -you don’t know as much as you should about American history.” Smilingly -he put me in a chair and began his dictation. Lord Morley is reported -to have said, after his visit to the United States, when asked what he -thought most interesting in our country: “There are two _great_ things -in the United States: one is Niagara, the other is Theodore Roosevelt.” -As I think of my brother that night, Lord Morley’s words come back to -me, for it seemed as if, for once, the two great things were combined -in one. Such a Niagara as flowed from the lips of Theodore Roosevelt -would have surprised even the brilliant English statesman. He never -once referred to the books themselves, but he ran through the whole -gamut of their story, suggesting here, interpolating there, courteously -referring to some slight inaccuracy, taking up occasionally almost -a page of the matter (referring to the individual page without ever -glancing at the book), and finally, at 5 A. M., with a satisfied -aspect, he turned to me and said: “That is all about ‘Rhodes’s -History.’” - -I rose feebly to my feet and said: “Good night, darling.” But not at -all--still gaily, as if he had just begun a day’s work, instead of -having reached the weary, littered end of twenty-four hours, he said -once more: “Don’t go to bed. I must do one other piece of work, and I -think you would be especially interested in it. Peter Dunne--‘Dooley,’ -you know--has sent me an article of his on the Irish Question, and -wants a review on that from me. I am very fond of Dunne, and really -feel I should like to give him my opinions, as they do not entirely -agree with his in this particular article. I feel like doing this now. -Sit down again.” He never asked me to do anything with him that I ever -refused, were it in my power to assent to his suggestion. How I rejoice -to think that this was the case, and there was no exception made to -my usual rule at 5 A. M. that November morning. I sat down again, and -sure enough, in a few moments all fatigue seemed to vanish from me, as -I listened with eager interest to his masterly review of Peter Dunne’s -opinions on the Irish situation at that moment. It was a little late, -or perhaps one might say a little early, to begin so complicated a -subject as the Irish Question, and my final memories of his dictation -are confused with the fact that at about 7 A. M. one of the colored -porters came in with coffee, and shortly after that I was assisted to -my berth in a more or less asphyxiated condition, from which I never -roused again until the train reached the station at Washington. That -was the way in which Theodore Roosevelt did work. I have often thought -that if some of us always had the book at hand that we wanted to read, -instead of wasting time in looking for it, if we always had clearly in -our minds the extra job we wanted to do, and the tools at hand with -which to do it, we might accomplish in some small degree the vast -numbers of things he accomplished because of _preparedness_. - -As early as December 19, 1904, my sister-in-law wrote me: “Theodore -says that he wants you and Douglas under his roof for the -Inauguration.” I always felt a deep appreciation of the fact that -both my brother and his wife made us so welcome at the most thrilling -moments of their life in the White House. - -In January, 1905, he came to stay with me in New York to speak at -several dinners, and a most absurd and yet trying incident occurred, -an incident which he met with his usual sunny and unselfish good -humor. We had had a large luncheon for him at my home, and when the -time came for him to dress in the evening for the dinner at which he -was to speak, I suddenly heard a call from the third story, a pitiful -call: “I don’t think I have my own dress coat.” I ran up-stairs, and -sure enough the coat laid out with his evening clothes, when he tried -to put it on, proved to be so tight across his broad shoulders that -whenever he moved his hands it rose unexpectedly almost to his ears. I -called my butler, who insisted that he had taken the President’s coat -with the rest of his clothes to brush, and had brought it back again -to his room. This, however, was untrue, for the awful fact was soon -divulged that the extra waiter engaged for the luncheon, and who had -already left the house, had apparently confused the President’s coat, -which was in the basement to be pressed, with his own, and had taken -away the President’s coat! No one knew at this man’s house where he had -gone. There seemed no method of tracing the coat. We dressed my brother -in my husband’s coat, but that was even worse, for my husband’s coat -fell about him in folds, and there seemed nothing for it but to send -him to the large public dinner with a coat that, unless most cleverly -manipulated, continued to rise unexpectedly above his head. No one but -my brother would have taken this catastrophe with unruffled gaiety, -but he started off apparently perfectly contented, rather than give -me a more dejected feeling than I already had about the misadventure. -I, myself, was to go later to the dinner to hear his speech from one -of the boxes, and I shall never forget my trepidation when he began -his address, as I saw the coat slowly rising higher and higher. At the -most critical moment, when it seemed about to surmount his head, a -messenger-boy, flurried and flushed with exertion, ran upon the stage -with a package in his hand. The recalcitrant waiter had been found -by my butler, and the President’s coat had been torn from his back. -Excusing himself for a moment, with a laughing gesture which brought -the coat completely over his head he retired into the wings, changed -the article in question, and a few moments later brought down the whole -house by his humorous account of the reason for his retirement. - -On March 3, 1905, as the guests of my cousin Emlen Roosevelt, who took -a special car for the occasion, the members of my family, my husband, -and myself started for the inauguration of Theodore Roosevelt as -President. Memories crowd about me of those two or three days at the -White House. The atmosphere was one of great family gaiety, combined -with an underlying seriousness which showed the full realization felt -by my brother of the great duties which he was again to assume this -time as the choice of the people. - -What a day it was, that inaugural day! As usual, the personal came -so much into it. The night before, Mr. John Hay sent him a ring with -a part of the lock of Abraham Lincoln’s hair which John Hay himself -had cut from the dead President’s forehead almost immediately after -his assassination. I have never known my brother to receive a gift -for which he cared so deeply. To wear that ring on the day of his -own inauguration as President of the United States, elected to the -office by the free will of the great American people, was to him, -perhaps, the highest fulfilment of his desires. The day dawned dark -and threatening and with snow filtering through the clouds, but -occasionally rifts of sunlight broke through the sombre bank of gray. -The ceremonies were fraught, to those of us who loved him so deeply, -with great solemnity. The Vice-President taking his oath in the -senate-chamber, the arrival there of the judges of the Supreme Court, -the glittering uniforms of the foreign ambassadors and their suites, -the appearance of the President-elect, and our withdrawal to the porch -of the Capitol, from which he was to make his inaugural address--all -of this remains indelibly impressed upon my mind. His solemn, ardent -words as he dedicated himself afresh to the service of the country, the -great crowd straining to hear each sentence, the eager attitude of the -guard of honor (his beloved Rough Riders)--all made a vivid picture -never to be forgotten. An eye-witness wrote as follows: “Old Chief -Justice Fuller with his beautiful white hair and his long, judicial -gown administered the oath, and Roosevelt repeated it so loudly that he -could be heard in spite of the wind. In fact the wind rather added to -the impressiveness than otherwise, as it gave the President a chance to -throw back his shoulders to resist it, and that gave you a wonderful -feeling of strength that went splendidly with the speech itself. The -speech was short, and was mainly a plea for the ‘Peace of Justice’ as -compared with the ‘Peace of the Coward.’ It was very stirring. The -applause was tremendous.” - -I would have my readers remember that when Theodore Roosevelt pleaded -for such a peace it was in 1905, nine years before peace was broken -by the armies of the Huns, and during those long years he never once -failed to preach that doctrine, and to the last moment of his life -abhorred and denounced the peace of the coward. - -Following quickly on his inaugural speech came the luncheon at the -White House, at which friends from New York were as cordially welcomed -as were Bill Sewall’s large family from the Maine woods and Will -Merrifield, who, now a marshal, brought the greetings of the State of -Montana. After luncheon we all went out on the reviewing-stand. The -President stood at the front of the box, his hat always off in response -to the salutes. The great procession lasted for hours--West Pointers -and naval cadets followed by endless state organizations, governors on -horseback, cowboys waving their lassos and shouting favorite slogans -(they even lassoed a couple of men, _en passant_), Chief Joseph, the -grand old man of the Nez Percé tribe, gorgeously caparisoned, his -brilliant head-dress waving in the wind, followed by a body of Indians -only a shade less superb in costume, and then a hundred and fifty -Harvard fellows in black gowns and caps--and how they cheered for the -President as they passed the stand! Surely there was never before such -an inauguration of any President in Washington. Never was there such a -feeling of personal devotion in so many hearts. Other Presidents have -had equal admiration, equal loyalty perhaps, but none has had that -loyalty and admiration given by so liberal and varied a number of his -fellow countrymen. - -It was dark before we left the stand, and soon inside of the White -House there followed a reception to the Rough Riders. What a happy -time the President had with them recalling bygone adventures, while -the Roosevelt and Robinson children ran merrily about listening to the -wonderful stories and feeding the voracious Rough Riders. Later the -President went bareheaded to the steps under the porte-cochère and -received the cowboys, who rode past one after another, joyfully shaking -hands with their old chief, ready with some joke for his special -benefit, to which there was always a repartee. It was a unique scene -as they cheered the incoming magnate under the old porte-cochère, and -one never to be repeated. And then the Harvard men filed past to shake -hands. Needless to say, dinner was rather late, though very merry, and -we were all soon off to the inaugural ball. It was a beautiful sight, -the hall enormous, with two rows of arches and pillars, one above the -other, along each side. The floor was absolutely crowded with moving -people, all with their faces straining up at our box. Ten thousand -people bought tickets. Mr. Matthew Hale, then tutor to my nephew -Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., has described the scene as follows: “The whole -room was beautifully decorated with lights and wreaths and flowers. As -I stood looking down on the great pageant I felt as though I were in -some other world,--as though these people below there and moving in and -out were not real people, but were all part of some great mechanism -built for our special benefit. And then my feeling would change to the -other extreme when I thought of each one of those men and women as -individuals, each one thinking, and feeling and acting according to his -own will,--and that all, just for that one night, came together for a -common purpose, to see the President. Soon an open place appeared in -the throng before us, and the President and Mrs. Roosevelt, and behind -them Vice-President and Mrs. Fairbanks, walked to the other end of the -hall and back, while the people cheered and cheered.” And soon it was -time to go back to the White House, and then, best of all, came what -we used to call a “back-hair” talk in Theodore and Edith’s room. What -fun we had as we talked the great day over in comfortable déshabille. A -small round bottle of old wine was found somewhere by Mrs. Roosevelt, -and the family drank the President’s health, and we talked of old times -and childhood days, and of the dear ones whose hearts would have glowed -so warmly had they lived to see that day. We laughed immoderately over -all kinds of humorous happenings, and we could hardly bear to say “good -night,” we still felt so gay, so full of life and fun, so invigorated -and stimulated by the excitement and by the deeper thoughts and -desires, which, however, only took the form that night of increasing -hilarity! - -Shortly after that March inauguration my daughter Corinne, just -eighteen, was asked by her kind aunt to pay a visit at the White House, -and I impressed upon her the wonderful opportunity she would have of -listening to the great men of the world at the informal luncheon -gatherings which were a feature of my brother’s incumbency. “Do not -miss a word,” I said to my daughter. “Uncle Ted brings to luncheon -all the great men in Washington--almost always several members of the -cabinet, and any one of interest who is visiting there. Be sure and -listen to everything. You will never hear such talk again.” When she -returned home from that visit I eagerly asked her about the wonderful -luncheons at the White House, where I had so frequently sat spellbound. -My somewhat irreverent young daughter said: “Mother, I laughed -internally all through the first luncheon at the White House during my -visit. Uncle Ted was perfectly lovely to me, and took me by the hand -and said: ‘Corinny, dear, you are to sit at my right hand to-day, and -you must have the most delightful person in the room on your other -side.’ With that he glanced at the distinguished crowd of gentlemen -who were surrounding him waiting to be assigned to their places, and -picking out a very elderly gentleman with a long white beard, he said -with glowing enthusiasm: ‘You shall have John Burroughs, the great -naturalist.’ I confess I had hoped for some secretary in the cabinet, -but, no, Uncle Ted did not think there was any one in the world that -compared in thrilling excitement to his wonderful old friend and -lover of birds. Even so, I thought, ‘Mother would wish me to learn -all about natural history, and I shall hear marvellous ornithological -tales, even if politics must be put aside.’ But even in that I was -somewhat disappointed, for at the very beginning of luncheon Uncle -Ted leaned across me to Mr. Burroughs and said: ‘John, this morning -I heard a chippy sparrow, and he sang twee, twee, right in my ear.’ -Mr. Burroughs, with a shade of disapproval on his face, said: ‘Mr. -President, you must be mistaken. It was not a _chippy_ sparrow if it -sang twee, twee. The note of the _chippy_ sparrow is twee, twee, twee.’ -From that moment the great affairs of our continent, the international -crises of all kinds were utterly forgotten, while the President of the -United States and his esteemed guest, the great naturalist, discussed -with a good deal of asperity whether that chippy sparrow had said -‘twee, twee,’ or ‘twee, twee, twee.’ We rose from the table with the -question still unsettled.” My brother always loved to hear my daughter -tell this story, although his face would assume a somewhat sheepish -expression as she dilated on the difference between her mother’s -prognostications of what a luncheon at the White House would mean from -an intellectual standpoint, and what the realization actually became! - -In spite of my daughter’s experience, however, I can say with truth -that there never were such luncheons as those luncheons at the White -House during my brother’s life there. The secretary of state, Mr. -Elihu Root, with his unusual knowledge, his pregnant wit, and quiet, -brilliant sarcasm; the secretary of war, Mr. Taft, with his gay smile -and ready response; Mr. Moody, the attorney-general with his charming -culture and universal kindliness, and Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, the -brilliant scholar and statesman, my brother’s most intimate friend and -constant companion, were frequent members of the luncheon-parties, and -always, the most distinguished visitor to Washington, from whatever -country or from whatever State of our own country, would be brought -in with the same informal hospitality and received for the time being -by President and Mrs. Roosevelt into the intimacy of family life. -The whole cabinet would occasionally adjourn from one of their most -important meetings to the lunch-table, and then the President and Mr. -Root would cap each other’s stories of the way in which this or that -question had been discussed during the cabinet meeting. I doubt also if -ever there were quite such cabinet meetings as were held during those -same years! - -That spring Mr. Robinson and I took my daughter to Porto Rico to visit -Governor and Mrs. Beekman Winthrop. My brother believed strongly -in young men, and having admired the intelligence of young Beekman -Winthrop (he came of a fine old New York family) as circuit judge in -the Philippines, he decided to make him governor of Porto Rico. He was -only twenty-nine, and his charming wife still younger, but they made -a most ideal couple as administrators of the beautiful island. After -having been with them in the old palace for about a week, and having -enjoyed beyond measure all that was so graciously arranged for us, I -was approached one day by Governor Winthrop, who told me that he was -much distressed at the behavior of a certain official and that he felt -sure that the President would not wish the man to remain in office, for -he was actually a disgrace to the United States. “Mrs. Robinson,” he -said, “will you not go to the President on your return, and tell him -that I am quite sure he would not wish to retain this man in office? -I know the President likes us to work with the tools which have been -given us, and I dislike beyond measure to seem not to be able to do so, -but I am convinced that this man should not represent the United States -in this island.” “Have you your proofs, Beekman?” I asked. “I should -not be willing to approach my brother with any such criticism without -accurate proofs.” “I most assuredly have them,” he answered, and sure -enough he _did_ have them, and I shortly afterward sailed with them -back to New York. Immediately upon my arrival I telegraphed my brother -as follows: “Would like to see you on Porto Rican business. When shall -I come?” One of Theodore Roosevelt’s most striking characteristics -was the rapidity with which he answered letters or telegrams. One -literally felt that one had not posted a letter or sent the telegram -rushing along the wire before the rapid answer came winging back again, -and _that_ particular telegram was no exception to the rule. I had -rather hoped for a week’s quiet in which to get settled after my trip -to Porto Rico, but that was not to be. The rapid-fire answer read as -follows: “Come tomorrow.” Of course there was nothing for me to do but -go “tomorrow.” It was late in April, and as I drove up to the White -House from the station, I thought how lovely a city was Washington -in the springtime. The yellow forsythias gave a golden glow to the -squares, and the soft hanging petals of the fringe-trees waved in the -scented air. I never drove under the White House porte-cochère without -a romantic feeling of excitement at the realization that it was _my_ -brother, lover of Lincoln, lover of America, who lived under the roof -which symbolized all that America means to her children. As I went up -the White House steps, he blew out of the door, dressed for his ride on -horseback. His horse and that of a companion were waiting for him. He -came smilingly toward me, welcomed me, and said: “Edie has had to go to -Philadelphia for the night to visit Nellie Tyler, so we are all alone, -and I have ordered dinner out on the back porch, for it is so warm and -lovely, and there is a full moon, and I thought we could be so quiet -there. I have so much to tell you. All sorts of political things have -happened during your absence, and besides that I have learned several -new poems of Kipling and Swinburne, and I feel like reciting them to -you in the moonlight!” “How perfectly lovely,” I replied, “and when -shall I see you about Porto Rico?” A slight frown came on his brow, and -he said, “Certainly not to-night,” and then rather sternly: “You have -your appointment at nine o’clock to-morrow morning in the office to -discuss business matters.” Then with a returning smile: “I will be back -pretty soon. Good-by.” And he jumped on his horse and clattered away -toward Rock Creek. - -[Illustration: - - _From the drawing by Jules Guérin._ - -We had that lovely dinner on the portico at the back of the White House -looking toward the Washington Monument.] - -It all came true, although it almost seemed like a fairy-tale. We -_had_ that dinner _à deux_ on the lovely portico at the rear of the -White House looking toward the Washington Monument--that portico was -beautifully reproduced by Sargent’s able brush for Mrs. Roosevelt -later--and under the great, soft moon, with the scent of shrub -and flower in the air, he recited Kipling and Swinburne, and then -falling into more serious vein, gave me a vivid description of some -difficulty he had had with Congress, which had refused to receive a -certain message which he had written and during the interval between -the sending of it and their final decision to receive it, he had shut -himself up in his library, glad to have a moment of unexpected leisure, -and had written an essay, which he had long desired to write, on the -Irish sagas. The moon had waned and the stars were brighter and deeper -before we left the portico. We never could go to bed when we were -together, and I am so glad that we never did! - -The next morning I knocked at his door at eight o’clock, to go down to -the early breakfast with the children, which was one of the features -also, quite as much as were the brilliant lunches, of home life in the -White House. He came out of his dressing-room radiant and smiling, -ready for the day’s work, looking as if he had had eight hours of -sleep instead of five, and rippling all over with the laughter which -he always infused into those family breakfasts. As we passed the -table at the head of the staircase, at which later in the day my -sister’s secretary wrote her letters, the telephone-bell on the table -rang, and with spontaneous simplicity--not even thinking of ringing -a bell for a “menial” to answer the telephone-call--he picked up the -receiver himself as he passed by. His face assumed a listening look, -and then a broad smile broke over his features. “No,” he said. “No, I -am not Archie, I am Archie’s father.” A second passed and he laughed -aloud, and then said: “All right, I will tell him; I won’t forget.” -Hanging up the receiver, he turned to me half-sheepishly but very much -amused. “That’s a good joke on any President,” he said. “You may have -realized that there was a little boy on the other end of that wire, -and he started the conversation by saying, ‘Is that you, Archie?’ and -I replied, ‘No, it is Archie’s father.’ Whereupon he answered, with -evident disgust: ‘Well, you’ll _do_. Be sure and tell Archie to come -to supper. Now, don’t forget.’ ‘How the creatures order you about!’” -he gaily quoted from our favorite book, “Alice in Wonderland,” and -proceeded to run at full speed down to the breakfast-room. There the -children greeted us vociferously, and the usual merry breakfast ensued. -For that half-hour he always belonged to the children. Questions and -answers about their school life, their recreation when out of school, -etc., etc., followed in rapid succession, interspersed with various -fascinating tales told by him for their special edification. - -After they had dispersed there was still a half-hour left before he -went to the office at 9 o’clock, and whenever I visited the White House -(my visits were rather rare, as my husband, being a busy real-estate -broker in New York, could not often break away) that half-hour was -always given to me, and we invariably walked around the great circle -at the back of the White House. It was his most vigorous moment of the -day, that hour from 8.30 to 9. He had not yet met the puzzling defeats -and compromises necessitated by the conflicting interests of the many -appointments in the office, and he was fresh and vivid, interested in -the problems that were to be brought to him for solution that day, -and observant of everything around him. I remember that morning as we -walked around the circle he was discussing a very serious problem that -had to be decided immediately, and he held his forefinger straight up, -and said: “You know my temperament always wants to get there”--putting -his other forefinger on the apex of the first. “I naturally wish to -reach the goal of my desire, but would I not be very blind and stupid -if, because I couldn’t get _there_, I decided to stay here” [changing -his right forefinger to the base of the left] “rather than get -here”--finishing his simile by placing the right finger to the third -notch of the finger on his other hand. - -Just as he was finishing this simile his eye caught sight of a tiny -object on the pathway, so minute a little brown spot that I should -never have noticed it; but he stooped, picked it up, and held it -between his forefinger and thumb, looking at it eagerly, and then -muttering somewhat below his breath: “Very early for a fox-sparrow.” -He threw the tiny piece of fluff again upon the path. “How do you -know that that was a feather from a fox-sparrow, Theodore?” I said, -in my usual astonishment at his observation and information. “I can -understand how you might know it was a sparrow, but how know it -belonged to the fox-sparrow rather than to any of the other innumerable -little creatures of that species?” He was almost deprecatory in his -manner as he said in reply: “Well, you see I have really made a great -study of sparrows.” And then we were back at the entrance to the -White House, and in a moment I leaned out of the dining-room window -and watched him walk across the short space between that window and -the office, his head thrown back, his shoulders squared to meet the -difficulties of the day, and every bit of him alert, alive, and glowing -with health and strength and power and mentality. - -I went up-stairs, put on my “best bib and tucker,” and proceeded to go -around the other way to the front door of the offices. As I rang the -bell the dear old man who always opened the door greeted me warmly, and -said: “Yes, Mrs. Douglas Robinson, your appointment is at 9. It is just -time.” I went into the outer hall, where a number of the appointees of -9.15, 9.30, etc., were already waiting, to be surely on hand for their -appointments, and in a moment or two Mr. Loeb opened the door of the -private office of the President, and came out into the hall and said -in a rather impersonal way, “Mrs. Douglas Robinson’s appointment,” and -I was shown into the room. My brother was seated at a large table, and -on it was every imaginable paper marked “Porto Rico.” As I entered he -was still reading one of these papers. He looked up, and I almost felt -a shock as I met what seemed to be a pair of perfectly opaque blue -eyes. I could hardly believe they were the eyes of the brother with -whom I had so lately parted, the eyes that had glistened as he recited -the poems of Kipling and Swinburne, the eyes that had almost closed to -see better the tiny breast-fluff of the fox-sparrow. These were rather -cold eyes, the eyes of a just judge, eyes that were turned upon his -sister as they would have been turned upon any other individual who -came to him in connection with a question about which he must give his -most careful and deliberate decision. He waved me to a chair, finished -the paper he was reading, and then turning to me, his eyes still stern -and opaque, he said: “I believe you have come to see me on business -connected with Porto Rico. Kindly be as condensed as possible.” I -decided to meet him on his own ground, and made my eyes as much like -his as possible, and was as condensed as possible. Having listened -carefully to my short story, he said: “Have you proof of this?” still -rather sternly. Again I decided to answer as he asked, and I replied: -“I should not be here, wasting your time and mine, did I not have -adequate proof.” With that I handed him the notes made by the governor -of Porto Rico, and proceeded to explain them. He became a little less -severe after reading them, but no less serious, and turning to me more -gently, said: “This is a very serious matter. I have got to be sure of -the correctness of these statements. A man’s whole future hangs upon my -decision.” For a moment I felt like an executioner, but realizing as I -did the shocking and disgraceful behavior of the official in question, -I knew that no sentimentality on my part should interfere with the -important decision to be made, and I briefly backed up all that the -governor had written. I can still hear the sound of the President’s -pen as he took out the paper on which the man’s name was inscribed, -and with one strong stroke effaced that name from official connection -with Porto Rico forever. That was the way that Theodore Roosevelt did -business with his sister. - -During that same year, 1905, the old Provençal poet Frédéric Mistral -sent him his volume called “Mireille,” and the acknowledgment of the -book seems to me to express more than almost any other letter ever -written by my brother the spirit which permeated his whole life. It -shows indisputably that though he had reached the apex of his desires, -that though he was a great President of a great country, perhaps the -most powerful ruler at the moment of any country, that his ideals for -that country, just as his ideals for himself and for his own beloved -home life, were what they had always been before the sceptre of power -had been clasped by his outstretched hand. - - White House, Washington, - December 15, 1905. - - MY DEAR M. MISTRAL: - - Mrs. Roosevelt and I were equally pleased with the book and the - medal, and none the less because for nearly twenty years we - have possessed a copy of Mireille. That copy we shall keep for - old association’s sake, though this new copy with the personal - inscription by you must hereafter occupy the place of honor. - - All success to you and your associates! You are teaching the lesson - that none need more to learn than we of the West, we of the eager, - restless, wealth-seeking nation; the lesson that after a certain - not very high level of material well-being has been reached, then - the things that really count in life are the things of the spirit. - Factories and railways are good up to a certain point, but courage - and endurance, love of wife and child, love of home and country, - love of lover for sweetheart, love of beauty in man’s work and in - nature, love and emulation of daring and of lofty endeavour, the - homely work-a-day virtues and the heroic virtues--these are better - still, and if they are lacking, no piled-up riches, no roaring, - clanging industrialism, no feverish and many-sided activity shall - avail either the individual or the nation. I do not undervalue - these things of a nation’s body; I only desire that they shall not - make us forget that beside the nation’s body there is also the - nation’s soul. - - Again thanking you on behalf of both of us, believe me, - - Faithfully yours, - (Signed) THEODORE ROOSEVELT. - - To M. Frédéric Mistral. - -No wonder that Mistral turned to a friend after reading that letter -and said with emotion: “It is he who is the new hope of humanity.” - - - - -XII - -HOME LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE - -(CONTINUED) - - Men smile through falling tears, - Remembering the courage of his years - That stood each one for God, humanity, - And covenanted world-wide Liberty! - - --Edith Daley. - - -One of the most extraordinary things about my brother was that -in the midst of his full political life, a life “pressed down -and overflowing,” he still had time for the most loving interest -in personal family matters. Just after the great moment of his -inauguration, he sent me a number of photographs of my eldest son and -his young wife, just married, who had gone around the world and were -staying with General Wood in the Philippines, and adds in the letter: -“It was such a pleasure to have Douglas and you down here for the -inauguration, and to see the boys and Corinne.” In June of that same -year, when my two younger boys had each won a boat-race at St. Paul’s -School, he takes a moment from his pressing duties to write another -letter: “Darling Corinne: Good for Monroe and Stewart! Give them my -hearty congratulations; I have only time for this line.” Such unusual -thoughtfulness could not fail to keep burning perpetually the steady -fire of my love for him. - -In July, 1905, he sent me one of the inauguration medals signed by -Saint-Gaudens. In looking at the head upon that medal, one realized -perfectly by the strong lines of temple and forehead that Theodore -Roosevelt had come to the fulness of his intellectual powers. - -About the same time there was a naval review at Oyster Bay, and Mrs. -Roosevelt writes: “The review was a wonderful sight. I wish you could -have been here. The morning was dark and stormy, with showers of -driving rain, until Theodore’s flag broke out from the _Mayflower_, -when the clouds suddenly dispersed and the sun shone brightly.” How -often we used to feel that the sun always broke out when Theodore’s -flag flew! - -One other little line from his pen, December 19, 1905, shows the same -constant thoughtfulness. He says: “Will you send the enclosed note -to Dora? I am not sure of her address. I hate to trouble you, but I -want to have poor ‘Dolly’ get it by Christmas Day.” Dora was his old, -childhood nurse, one to whom we were very much devoted, and whom he -never forgot. - -At the beginning of the new year, 1906, he writes to my husband: “Dear -Douglas,--By George! Stewart is doing well. [I think this referred -to the fact that my youngest boy had been chosen as goal-keeper of -the St. Paul’s School hockey team!] That is awfully nice. I was -mighty glad Wadsworth was elected. I shall have difficulties this -year, and I cannot expect to get along as well as I did last year, -but I shall do the best I can.” Never blinded by past popularity, -always ready for the difficulties to come, and yet never dwelling -so strongly on these difficulties that by the very dwelling on them -even greater difficulties were brought to bear upon him. It was -quite true that it proved in many ways, a more difficult year than -the one preceding, but a happy year all the same, a happiness which -culminated in his satisfaction in the marriage of his daughter Alice -to Nicholas Longworth, of Cincinnati, Ohio, an able member of the -House of Representatives. His announcement to me of the engagement -was made at the dinner-table one evening before it was known to the -world, and not wishing to have it disclosed _to_ the world through the -table-servants, he decided to give me the news in French. His French -was always fluent, but more or less of a literal translation from the -English, which method he exaggerated humorously. “Je vais avoir un fils -en loi,” he said, smiling gaily at me across the table, delighted at my -puzzled expression. With a little more explanation I realized what he -was suggesting to my befuddled brain, and he then proceeded to describe -a conversation he had had with the so-called “fils en loi,” and how he -had talked to him like “un oncle Hollandais,” or “Dutch uncle”! - -There was much excitement at the prospect of a wedding in the White -House, and, needless to say, so many were the requests to be present -that the line had to be drawn very carefully, and, in consequence, the -whole affair assumed an intimate and personal aspect. Alice’s Boston -grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. George C. Lee, were especially welcomed -by Mrs. Roosevelt, and my memory of the great morning of the wedding -has a curiously “homey” quality. I much doubt if there was ever a -function--for a wedding in the White House could hardly be anything but -a function--so simple, so charming, and so informal as that marriage -of the lovely daughter of the White House. Almost all the morning Mrs. -Roosevelt knitted peacefully at the sunny window up-stairs near her -secretary’s desk, chatting quietly with Mrs. Lee. All preparations -seemed to have been made in, the most quiet and efficient manner, for -there was no hurry, no excitement. My husband took Mr. Lee for a walk, -as the dear old gentleman was very much excited at the prospect of his -granddaughter’s nuptials in the “East Room.” Everything seemed to go -on quite as usual until the actual moment came, and Alice Roosevelt, -looking very beautiful in her long court train and graceful veil, -came through the group of interested friends up to the white ribbon -which formed, with flowers, a chancel at the end of the “East Room.” -My brother was at his best--gay, affectionate, full of life and fun, -and later took his son-in-law (no longer “to-be”) and all the ushers, -members of Harvard’s Porcellian Club like himself, into the state -dining-room to drink the health of the bride and groom, and recall -various incidents of his and of their college days. - -In March of that year I wrote him that my youngest boy was to debate -at St. Paul’s School on the Santo Domingo question, and he answered at -once, with that marvellous punctuality of his: “I wrote Stewart at once -and sent him all the information I could on the Santo Domingo business. -I wish you were down here. In great haste. Ever yours, T. R.” - -In great haste, yes, but not too busy to write to a schoolboy-nephew -“at once,” and give him the most accurate information that could be -given on the question upon which he was to take part in school debate. - -Again, when I suggested joining him in his car on his way that fall to -vote at Oyster Bay, he writes: “Three cheers! Now you can join me. We -will have lunch immediately after leaving. I am so anxious to see you. -I shall just love the Longfellow.” [Evidently some special edition that -I am about to bring to him.] - -On November 20, with his usual interest in my boys, he sends me a -delightful letter from his ex-cowboy superintendent, Will Merrifield, -with whom they had been hunting in August and September, 1906; and -I am interested to see after reading his opinion of my boys how Mr. -Merrifield, although many years had passed since the old days of the -Elkhorn Ranch, still turns to him for advice, still, beyond all else, -wishes to justify his various ventures in the eyes of his old “boss.” -Merrifield writes: “I have sold my ranch, and will be able to make good -all my financial obligations, which was my great ambition, besides -having something left, so that _I will not take office for the purpose -of making money_. [That was one of Theodore Roosevelt’s perpetual -preachings, that no one should take office for the purpose of making -money.] I can be independent as far as money goes, and _above all_ -will be able to make good my word to you years ago, as soon as my -business is straightened out.” He sends me the letter not because of -that sentence, but because, as he says, “This letter from Merrifield is -so nice about Monroe and Stewart that I thought I would send it to you. -How well they did.” Always the same generous joy in the achievements of -any of the younger generation. - -Again, on December 26, comes a long letter describing another “White -House Christmas.” He deplores the fact that the children are growing a -little older, and that “Ted” says in a melancholy way that he no longer -feels the wild excitement of former years and the utter inability to -sleep soundly during the night before Christmas. He adds, however: -“Personally I think that ‘Ted’ also was thoroughly in the spirit of the -thing when Christmas actually arrived, because by six o’clock every -child of every size was running violently to and fro along the hall, in -and out of all the other children’s rooms, the theory being that Edith -and I were still steeped in dreamless and undisturbed slumber!” - -It is true that that winter _was_ more difficult than the winter -before, but he met the unusual difficulties with unabated courage, and -writes in October, 1907, after giving me much family news: “Indeed -times have been bad in New York, and as is always the case the -atonement was largely vicarious, and innocent people suffered. I hope -it does not extend through the rest of the country. If we check it, I -think it will mean ultimate good, though it will also mean depression -for a year at least.” - -In March, 1908, in the midst of harassing controversies and -presidential difficulties of all kinds, he takes the time and interest -to write concerning a young friend of mine into whose life had come an -unfortunate trouble. The letter is so full of a certain quality--what -perhaps I might call a righteous ruthlessness specially characteristic -of Theodore Roosevelt--that I quote a few lines from it: - -“I hate to think of her suffering; but the only thing for her to do now -is to treat the past as past, the event as finished and out of her -life; to dwell on it, and above all to keep talking of it with any one, -would be both weak and morbid. She should try not to think of it; this -she cannot wholly avoid, but she _can_ avoid speaking of it. She should -show a brave and cheerful front to the world, whatever she feels; and -henceforth she should never speak one word of the matter to any one. In -the long future, when the memory is too dead to throb, she may, if she -wishes, speak of it once more, but if she is wise and brave, she will -not speak of it now.” - -This note referring to a matter which did not come, except through the -interests of affection, close to his own life shows with startling -clearness the philosophy of his attitude toward sorrows wherein -an original mistake had perhaps been the cause of sorrow. Of all -the qualities in my brother, this one never failed him. It was not -harshness; it was, as I said, a righteous ruthlessness. The thing that -injured one’s possibility for service in any way must be cut out or -burnt out. When that great sorrow of his own life, the death of his -splendid boy, came in July, 1918, although he never put aside the -sympathy of others--indeed, he gladly welcomed it, and gladly even -would talk with those in his innermost circle of the youngest he loved -so well--still, as a rule, his attitude was similar to that taken in -the above letter. Morbid craving could _not_ bring back his child; -morbid craving _could_ hurt his own potential power for good. The grief -must be met with high head and squared shoulders, and the work still to -do _must_ be done. - -All through the spring of 1908 the question as to his successor in the -White House was constantly in his mind. After serious thought he had -come to the conclusion that of the men closest to him, William Howard -Taft, who had done splendid work as governor in the Philippines and had -been an able lieutenant in the work of the Roosevelt administration, -would most conscientiously carry out the policies he thought vital for -the country. This belief did not in any way mean that he wished Mr. -Taft to be an automaton or dummy, possible of manipulation, but he -felt that his then secretary of war was more thoroughly in sympathy -with the policies which he believed to be the right policies for our -country than any other man except the secretary of state, Mr. Elihu -Root, whose possible election to the presidency he felt would be very -doubtful. Many have criticised in later years, especially after the -trouble in 1912, his choice of Mr. Taft to succeed him. There came out -at one time an article in the periodical _Life_ which, to my mind, -explained well the confidence which my brother placed in almost every -man who worked with him. The article said approximately: “The reason -that Theodore Roosevelt occasionally made mistakes in feeling that some -of his associates in the work of the government would continue to be -what he believed them to be, is as follows: _While_ any individual was -working with Mr. Roosevelt, in fact, _under_ Mr. Roosevelt, the latter -had the power of inspiring the said individual with his own acuteness, -his own energy, his own ability. The person, therefore, frequently -shone with a reflex light, a light which seemed to Mr. Roosevelt to -originate in him, but in fact, came from his own unfailing sources. The -consequence is that when some official who had seemed to Mr. Roosevelt -to be almost a _rara avis_, was left to his own devices, and without -the magnetic personality of his chief to inspire in him qualities -not really indigenous in him, the change in what that official could -accomplish was very marked.” Theodore Roosevelt was convinced that Mr. -Taft was entirely in accord with the policies in which he so fully -believed, and he had absolute confidence that in leaving in his hands -the work which he had striven so hard to perfect, he was doing the best -thing possible for the United States. - -At that time the people wanted to renominate my brother as President. -He, however, was convinced that a renomination would have defeated the -spirit of the unwritten law that no man should succeed himself a third -time in succession. - -I was present at the convention in Chicago in 1908, and have -fortunately retained a letter written to my children the very morning -of that convention, which runs as follows: - -“Oh, how I wish you could have been here this morning. Such an ovation -was never known as greeted Mr. Lodge’s mention of your Uncle Ted. Mr. -Lodge’s speech was most scholarly and reserved, and in referring to -the laws, he said, ‘The President has invariably enforced the laws, -and the President is the most abused and the most _popular_ man in -the country.’ Then came a ripple and then a mighty shout of applause, -growing louder and louder, increasing and increasing more and more -every moment. They clapped, they shouted, they cheered. The whole great -Convention sang the Star Spangled Banner, and then they clapped again, -and carried ‘Teddybears’ around the hall. They took off their coats and -swung them around their heads. You have never even imagined anything -like it. Several times, Mr. Lodge raised his gavel, but with no result, -and finally he started his speech again, and persevered until the -deafening noise began to subside fifty minutes after it began. It -really was a wonderful and thrilling scene. It was three o’clock before -we could keep our luncheon engagement at George Porter’s that first -day.” - -The following day it required all Mr. Lodge’s determination, and a -ringing message over the telephone from the White House itself, to -prevent the renomination of my brother. Not only did the people want -him, but, what has been so often _not_ the case, the _delegates_ wanted -him as well. It was one of those rare moments at a great convention -when the people and the delegates were in accord, and yet, it was not -to be. The will of Theodore Roosevelt was carried out, and William -Howard Taft was chosen as the nominee of the Republican party for the -next President of the United States. - -On June 23, 1908, came a letter from the White House to me: “Darling -Corinne--It was very good of you and Douglas to telegraph me. I am -extremely pleased with the result of the Convention. I think Cabot’s -handling of it was masterly.” And then, on June 26, an extremely -interesting letter came, one, I think, which, written as it was four -years before the great controversy of 1912, settles forever that -question which was so much discussed as to what Theodore Roosevelt -meant by his statement that he would not run for the presidency again. -This letter, on White House paper, is dated Oyster Bay, June 26, 1908: - -“Darling Corinne--My letter must have crossed yours. It was just -exactly as you and Alice said. Now there is nothing to explain. I -have been much amused at the fact that my English friends are wholly -incapable of understanding my reasons for the view I take, and think -it due to weakness or some fantastic scruple on my part. My theory -has been that the presidency should be a powerful office, and the -President a powerful man, who will take every advantage of it; but, as -a corollary, a man who can be held accountable to the people, after a -term of four years, and who will not in any event occupy it for more -than a _stretch_ of eight years....” Nothing is more conclusive of my -brother’s attitude than that sentence “who will not in any event occupy -it for more than a _stretch_ of eight years.” He did not believe in -a third term _consecutively_, but in no way did he pledge himself at -that time, or at any other time, not to consider again the possible -gift of the highest place in the nation, should an interval come -between his occupancy of the White House and the renewed desire of the -people that he should fill that place in the nation once more. I have -given some time to his attitude on this question, as it has been much -misunderstood. - -In amusing contrast to the seriousness of his decision not to accept a -renomination comes a characteristic incident in the President’s career. -The account of this I quote from a letter to me of Mr. Gustavus Town -Kirby, a participator himself in the event. The letter runs as follows: - -“In 1908 the Olympic Games had been held at London, England, and when -the athletes returned to this country, most of them went, with some -heads of the American Olympic Committee, including the late James E. -Sullivan and myself, to visit and receive the congratulations of -the then President of the United States at his summer home in Oyster -Bay. [What committee, on no matter _what_ important business, did -not receive the congratulations of that eclectic President at his -summer home at Oyster Bay!] I shall never forget the enthusiasm of -the gathering, nor how, no sooner had either Sullivan or I presented -a member of the team to the President, than he would, by use of his -wonderful memory and in his most inspiring manner, tell the special -athlete all about his own performance,--how far he had put the shot -to win his event, or how gamely he had run; by how much he had beaten -his competitor; his new world-record time, and the like. At the time I -marvelled, and I thought even one as great as he must have ‘brushed up’ -for the occasion, but ‘Billy’ Loeb, his Secretary, told me afterwards -that it was not so, and that all during the Games he was kept -constantly informed of the result of the performances of our boys; and -while he actually knew none of these boys by sight, he not only knew -them by name, but their performances as well. Not only to me, but to -all gathered at this reception was this feat of memory most astounding. -Mr. Roosevelt’s gracious cordiality, his fine speech of congratulation, -and his magnetic personality had such an effect on all that it was with -great difficulty that they could be literally _driven_ from the grounds -and onto the Long Island boat for their return to New York. - -“Michael Murphy, the trainer, many years trainer at Yale, and -thereafter at ‘Pennsylvania,’ and also for the New York Athletic Club, -whose team in 1895 was triumphant over the great team of the London -Athletic Club, was also a member of the party. On the way back in the -boat I happened to pass through the cabin, which was entirely empty -except for Michael Murphy, who, like the all but wizened-up old man he -was, having but about a quarter of a lung, and deaf except to those -things which he could not hear, sat huddled in a corner. I went up to -Mike and said, ‘What are you doing?’ He answered, ‘I am thinking!’ I -replied, ‘Yes, that is evident; but what are you thinking about?’ He -then said: ‘Well, Mr. Kirby, I suppose there is no doubt but that I am -the greatest trainer of men in the world.’ ‘That certainly is true,’ -I said. He went on: ‘Mr. Kirby, you are all wrong; until we went down -to Oyster Bay I thought I might be, but now I know I am not.’ ‘But,’ I -said, ‘Mike, that is nonsense. What do you mean?’ Then Mike answered, -‘Give me sixty men, every one of whom is a champion, and let that man -at Oyster Bay have sixty other men, every one of whom is a dub, and his -team would lick mine every time!’ I said, ‘Mike, this is impossible; -it could not be,’ and then Mike continued,--showing how that magnetic -personality of Mr. Roosevelt’s had taken hold of him, and how truly -he, Mike Murphy, understood the psychology of inspiration,--‘Yes, Mr. -Kirby, you see it’s this way; that man down there would tell a miler -that he could reel off a mile in four minutes, (as you know, no one has -run, or ever will run a mile in four minutes) and not only would that -man _think_ he could run a mile in four minutes, but, by Gad, he’d go -out and _do_ it.’” - -Perhaps no one has ever more cleverly expressed the extraordinary -power of that personality than that wizened old trainer, sunk into -despondency because he realized that where men are concerned skill and -science are as nothing compared to the genius of leadership. - -That summer my brother showed to my husband and myself his -never-failing love and consideration in a very special manner. My -husband’s mother had died a couple of years before, and her son and -daughter and myself had decided that the most fitting memorial to one -who was specially beloved and missed in the immediate vicinity of her -old home would be the erection of a small free library to the memory -of her and her husband. The building was completed, and my husband -wished to have a dedication service, at which time he would hand -over the keys to the library trustees in our village of Jordanville. -My husband’s old home, a grant in the time of Queen Anne to his -great-great-great-grandfather, Doctor James Henderson, of Scotland, -had always been a place for which my brother had a deep affection. -Situated as it was on the high Mohawk hills overlooking the great sweep -of typical American farm-land, we lived a somewhat Scotch life in the -old gray-stone mansion copied from the manor-house of Mr. Robinson’s -Scotch ancestors. My brother delighted in our relationship with the -neighbors in our environment, and accepted gladly my husband’s earnest -desire that he should make the speech of dedication when the library -was given by us to the little village of Jordanville. - -It was a great day for that tiny village when the President of the -United States, his secretary of state, Mr. Elihu Root, and the -Vice-President-elect, James S. Sherman, a native of the next county, -after being our guests at luncheon, proceeded on my husband’s -four-in-hand brake to the steps of the little colonial building three -miles away, designed by our friend Mr. S. Breck P. Trowbridge. - -What a day it was and what fun we had! After the library exercises we -held a reception at our home, Henderson House, and hundreds of every -sort and kind of vehicle were left or tethered along the high ridge -near our house. My brother and I stood at the end of the quaint old -drawing-room, and an endless file of country neighbors passed before -him, and each and all were greeted with his personal enthusiasm and -the marvellous knowledge of their interests with which the slightest -word from me seemed to make him cognizant. The sunset lights faded over -the Mohawk hills and lost their last gleam in the winding river below -before the last “dead-wood coach” or broken-down buggy had disappeared -from the grounds of Henderson House, and then in the old hall my own -family servants--many of them had been twenty or thirty years upon the -place--came in to greet him after supper, and sang the hymn which they -often sang on Sunday evenings: “God be with you till we meet again.” -The stories of that day will be told in time to come by the children’s -children of my kind friends of Warren Township, Herkimer County. -Theodore himself writes of the experience as follows: - -“Oyster Bay, August 27, 1908. Dearest Corinne and Douglas: There is not -a thing I would have missed throughout the whole day. It was a very -touching little ceremony, and most of all it was delightful to see you -two in your lovely home, living just the kind of life that I feel is -typical of what American life should be at its best. I was so glad to -see all your neighbors, and to see the terms they were on with you. -Moreover, the view, the grounds, the house itself, and all there was -therein, were delightful beyond measure; and most delightful of all -was it to see the three generations ranging from you two to the babies -of dear Helen and Teddy. Ever yours, Theodore Roosevelt.” As usual, -he never spared an effort to do the lovely thing, and then say the -satisfying thing to those for whom he had done the service. - -And now the time of Theodore Roosevelts incumbency as President was -drawing to a close. There is always a glamour as well as a shadow over -“last times,” and my last visit to the White House, in February, 1909, -stands out very clearly. My brother, the year before, had sent the -great American fleet around the world, an expedition discountenanced by -many, and yet conceded later to have been one of his most brilliantly -conceived strategic inspirations. “In time of peace, prepare for -war,” said Washington, and Theodore Roosevelt always followed that -maxim. That trip around the world of the American fleet was more -conducive to peace than any other action that could have been taken. -The purpose was “friendly,” of course, but those splendid battle-ships -of ours, engineered by such able commanders, could not fail to be an -object-lesson to any who felt that the United States was too isolated -to care for her own defense. - -But even in such a demonstration as this, he managed to include a touch -of exquisite sentiment. When the great vessels neared the Hawaiian -Islands, he ordered them to deflect their course to pass by and salute -the tragic island of Molokai, home of the afflicted lepers, so that -they too should know of the protection which America affords to its -most unfortunate children. - -During those days in February, 1909, he seemed as gay as a boy let -out of school. He was making all the arrangements for his great -African adventure. In fact, with his usual “preparedness,” he had been -preparing for that event for a whole year. Everything was accurately -arranged, and he and his son Kermit were to start immediately after -he was to leave the White House in March. The lectures which he was -to deliver a year from the following spring were all written and -corrected. One afternoon in the “Blue Bedroom,” which I generally -occupied on my visits, I heard a knock at my door, and he came in with -several rolls of paper under his arm. “It is raining,” he said, “and I -think I won’t take my ride. I want your opinion on the lectures I am -to deliver at Oxford, in Berlin, and at the Sorbonne. I should like to -read them to you,” and we settled down for a long delightful, quiet -time “à deux.” As usual, he was more than willing to listen to any -remark or criticism, and once or twice accepted my slight suggestions -of what I thought could improve his articles. - -Some people felt that my brother was often egotistical, and mistook -his conviction that this or that thing was right for an egotistical -inability to look at it any other way. When he was convinced that his -own attitude was correct, and that for the good of this or that scheme -no other attitude should be taken, then nothing could swerve him; but -when, as was often the case, it was not a question of conviction, -but of advisability, he was the most open-minded of men, and gladly -accepted and pondered the point of view of any one in whom he had -confidence. I was always touched and gratified beyond measure at the -simple and sometimes almost humble way in which he would listen to -a difference of opinion upon my part. Occasionally, after thinking -it seriously over, he would concede that my point of view was right. -In this particular case, however, they were the slightest of slight -suggestions which I made, for each of those articles seemed to me in -its own way a masterpiece. - -During that visit also occurred the last diplomatic dinner, always -followed when he was President by the delightful, informal supper at -tables set in the upper hall of the White House. That night he was -particularly gay, and many witty repartees passed between him and our -beautiful and gifted friend, Mrs. Cabot Lodge, the friend who had for -us all, through her infinite charm and brilliant intellectuality, a -fascination possessed by no other. She almost always sat at his table -at the informal suppers, and, needless to say, those two were the -centre of attraction. The table at which I myself sat that night had -the distinguished presence of General Leonard Wood, General Young, and -the French ambassador, Monsieur Jusserand, one of my brother’s favorite -companions on the famous White House walks, hero of the true story of -the time when on one of those same famous walks they inadvertently came -to the river, into which my brother plunged, followed immediately by -the dauntless French ambassador, who refused to “take off his gloves -for fear of meeting the ladies”! - -I spent one whole morning in the office during that visit, having -asked my brother if I might sit quietly in a corner and listen to his -interviews, to which request he gladly acceded. One after another, -people filed in to see him. I made a few notes of the conversations. -One of his first answers to some importunate person who wished him to -take a stand on some special subject (at that time he was anxious not -to embarrass his successor, Mr. Taft, by taking any special stands) -was: “As Napoleon said to his marshals, ‘I don’t want to make pictures -of myself.’” - -In receiving Mr. Hall, the president of the Gridiron Club, he remarked -that he (Theodore Roosevelt) had been one of the few people who used -these dinners as “a field of missionary endeavor.” Doctor Schick, of -the Dutch Reformed Church, in which he had been a regular attendant, -came to arrange for a good-by meeting at the church. To a man who came -in to see him on the subject of industrial peace, he replied: “The -President believes in conciliation in industrial problems.” Endless -subjects were brought up for his consideration, and many times I heard -him say: “Remember, a new man is in the saddle, and there can’t be -two Presidents after March 4th.” These notes were taken at the time, -February, 1909, and are not the result of memory conveniently adjusted -toward later happenings. - -Every time I talked with my brother on the subject of the future, he -repeated the fact that he was glad to plunge into the wilderness, so -that no one could possibly think that he wanted a “finger in the pie” -of the new administration. Over and over again he would say: “If I -am where they can’t get at me, and where I cannot hear what is going -on, I cannot be supposed to wish to interfere with the methods of my -successor.” - -One quiet evening when we had had a specially lovely family dinner, -I turned to him and said: “Theodore, I want to give you a _real_ -present before you go away. What do you think you would like?” His eyes -sparkled like a child who was about to receive a specially nice toy, -and he said: “Do you really want to make me a _real_ present, Pussie? I -think I should like a pigskin library.” “A pigskin library,” I said, in -great astonishment. “What is a pigskin library?” He laughed, and said: -“Of course, I must take a good many books; I couldn’t go anywhere, not -even into jungles in Africa without a good many books. But also, of -course, they are not very likely to last in ordinary bindings, and so -I want to have them all bound in pigskin, and I would rather have that -present than any other.” The next day he dictated a list of the books -which he wished, and the following evening added in his own handwriting -a few more. The list is as follows: - -BOOKS IN THE PIGSKIN LIBRARY - - Bible. - - Apocrypha. - - Borrow: Bible in Spain. - Zingali. - Lavengro. - Wild Wales. - The Romany Rye. - - Shakespeare. - - Spenser: Faerie Queene. - - Marlowe. - - Mahan: Sea Power. - - Macaulay: History. - Essays. - Poems. - - Homer: Iliad. - Odyssey. - - La Chanson de Roland. - - Nibelungenlied. - - Carlyle: Frederick the Great. - - Shelley: Poems. - - Bacon: Essays. - - Lowell: Literary Essays. - Biglow Papers. - - Emerson: Poems. - - Longfellow. - - Tennyson. - - Poe: Tales. - Poems. - - Keats. - - Milton: Paradise Lost (Books I and II). - - Dante: Inferno (Carlyle’s translation). - - Holmes: Autocrat. - Over the Teacups. - - Bret Harte: Poems. - Tales of the Argonauts. - Luck of Roaring Camp. - - Browning: Selections. - - Crothers: Gentle Reader. - Pardoner’s Wallet. - - Mark Twain: Huckleberry Finn. - Tom Sawyer. - - The Federalist. - - Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. - - Froissart. - - Gregorovius: Rome. - - Percy’s Reliques. - - Euripides (Murray’s translation): - Bacchæ. - Hippolytus. - - Scott: Legend of Montrose. - Antiquary. - Guy Mannering. - Rob Roy. - Waverley. - - Cooper: Two Admirals. - Pilot. - - Dickens: Pickwick. - Mutual Friend. - - Thackeray: Vanity Fair. - Pendennis. - -The famous pigskin library, carried on the back of “burros,” followed -him into the jungles of Africa, and was his constant companion at the -end of long days during which he had slain the mighty beasts of the -tangled forests. - -Immediately after that happy week at the White House, I was stricken by -a great sorrow, the death of my youngest son by an accident. My brother -came to me at once, and sustained me as no one else could have done, -and his one idea during those next weeks was to make me realize his -constant thought and love, even in the midst of those thrilling last -days at the White House, when among other events he welcomed home the -great fleet which had completed its circle of the world. - -A few days before the death of my boy, and immediately after that -enchanting last visit to the house we had learned to regard as -Theodore’s natural home, he wrote me the last letter I received from -him dated from the White House. It was written February 19, 1909: - -“Darling Corinne: Just a line to tell you what I have already told you, -of how we shall always think of you and thank you when we draw on the -‘Pigskin Library’ in Africa. It was too dear of you to give it to me. -That last night was the pleasantest function we had ever held at the -White House, and I am so glad that you and Douglas were there. Tell -Douglas he cannot imagine how I have enjoyed the rides with him.” The -above was typewritten, but inserted in his own handwriting at the end -of the note were the characteristic lines: “You blessèd person. I have -revelled in having you down here. T. R.” - - - - -XIII - -WALL STREET HOPES EVERY LION WILL DO ITS DUTY - - THE LION THAT ROOSEVELT SHOT - - Now in Elysian woods, at last foregathered, - Comrades, we range together, sire and sire, - We who on earth were kings, and nobly fathered, - And, regally, wore each his earth attire. - How proudly at his heel in dawn or gloaming, - With him, the lion-hearted, I am roaming! - - --Isabel Fiske Conant. - - -A great though quiet and personal demonstration came to Theodore -Roosevelt just before he sailed for Africa. The heart of the people -turned to him with overwhelming affection and he received, during the -last week in his own country, between fifteen and twenty thousand -farewell letters. Hundreds of mothers wrote him that they felt as if -their own son were leaving them, and that their prayers would follow -him in his wanderings; hundreds of others wrote that they would not -feel that the country would be safe until he should return--but the -“big business” men (not the “great” business men) of Wall Street, -according to the “bon mot” of some wag, “hoped every lion would do its -duty.” - -As my brother was leaving Oyster Bay to set sail on his great -adventure, he wrote me that he would spend one whole day with me, -except for necessary business engagements, to which engagements I took -him in my motor. And so my last memories of the time before he sailed -are, as usual, of his unfailing devotion. On March 26 he writes again -from the steamer: “Your dear little note was handed me as I sailed, and -I loved it. It was so good to see you as I did the day before. Darling -sister, I think of you all the time. I suppose your children told you -of the wild whirl of confusion in which I said ‘Goodbye.’ I was very -much touched by the number of acquaintances who came down to see me -off. Indeed hundreds of them were not even acquaintances. They came in -the shape of clubs, societies, delegations, and even more, by scores of -what might be called real friends.” - -All through his various sea trips--these sea trips rather bored him--he -writes as follows: “There are plenty of people with whom it is really -pleasant to talk in English or in those variants of volapuk which with -me pass for French and German.” He encloses me a photograph of Kermit -and himself and Selous, the naturalist, which shows a merry moment on -one of those same sea trips. In May of that year he writes from Juja -Farm, Nairobi: - -“Really, I have been so busy that I have had no time to myself, and -even have not been regularly homesick; of course, down at bottom I am -homesick the whole time, but it isn’t able to come to the surface, so -to speak, because when I am not actually hunting, I am lying still -because I am tired out.... This house is as pretty and comfortable as -possible, and my host and hostess are the very kindest of the kind. I -am sitting on a cool verandah with vines growing over the trellises, -having just returned from a morning hunt in which I killed a python -and an impala antelope. Yesterday I killed two antelopes, and the day -before, a rhino and a hippo, and the day before that, Kermit killed a -leopard which charged him viciously after mauling one of the beaters. I -have also killed six lions,--four of them big ones. I am sunburned and -healthy, and look like a burly and rather unkempt ruffian. - -“Kermit has really done very well. He is very handy, both cool and -daring, in fact, rather too daring sometimes. - -“Darling sister, I think of you continually, and would so love to see -you....” - -Later, on his return to the same farm after an extended hunting trip, -he says: - -“I have worked very hard writing the articles about this trip, and have -put my heart into them, for this trip has been to me one of absorbing -interest; but of course, I haven’t any idea whether I have written -anything worth reading. - -“I am happy to say that I know nothing whatever of politics at home, -and I hope to keep in the same blessed state of ignorance until I -return next June. Then I shall take up political work again, but -probably not in any direct partisan sense,--that is, I will go in with -the _Outlook_ people on such matters as the conservation of natural -resources, the control of big corporations, and how to deal with -socialism, and the like.” - -The above shows clearly how strong were his intentions not to interfere -in any way with the administration then in power. - -On June 21, in a letter headed “On Safari,” he writes: - -“I am so busy writing my _Scribner_ articles that I have but little -time to write family letters, except of course, the letters to Edith. I -have had plenty to write about for _Scribner’s_, but it is not always -easy to write in the field, and I do not really know how I have done -it. Sometimes when I come in early from a hunt, I just point blank -refuse to write at all, and spend an hour or two reading a book from -the ‘Pigskin Library,’ which has been the utmost possible comfort and -pleasure. Fond though I am of hunting and of wilderness life, I could -not thoroughly enjoy either if I were not able, from time to time, to -turn to my books. I am anxiously looking for news of your Helen and the -baby that is to be. - -“Kermit is a great pleasure to me. My trouble with him is that he is -altogether too bold,--pushing, daring, almost to recklessness.” - -Writing in October to my husband (there never was a more devoted -friendship than existed between him and my husband), he says: - -“You old trump, Douglas. I really do believe that you are about -the best fellow and the staunchest friend alive. Your letter was -really delightful. I am so glad Bridges told you that they liked the -_Scribner_ articles. I only hope they guess right as far as the public -is concerned. - -“I hope the Robinson Minimus or Minima has arrived. [Referring to the -expected baby in my eldest son’s family.] Of course, to go back to -Henderson was terribly hard for you both at first, but it would have -been the worst possible mistake to have avoided it or left it. The -nettle had to be grasped.” - -What a characteristic sentence! It _had_ been very hard to go back -to our old home, but, as he said, “the nettle had to be grasped.” I -don’t think in his whole life he failed to grasp any nettle that had -to be grasped. In a letter of the same date to me he says, referring -again to our sorrow: “As our lives draw toward the end, we are sure to -meet bitter sorrow, and we must meet it undauntedly. I have just been -writing Cabot and Nannie [they had lost their talented son, the young -poet George Cabot Lodge] and again, there was nothing for me to say.... -It has been a horrible wrench for me to leave Edith during this trip, -but I am sure I have done the wise thing from every standpoint.” - -On January 21, 1910, as he is nearing civilization once more, in a -letter dated on the Upper Nile, he writes: “Certainly our trip has been -a complete success. If we did not shoot another thing, it would still -remain unique, for the great quantity of skins and other scientific -specimens collected for the museum; and personally, I do not care if -I do not fire off my rifle again. I have enjoyed the trip to the full -and feel that it was well worth making. I am naturally overjoyed that -I am to see Edith in less than eight weeks, and I shall never go away -from her again if I can help it. The ‘Pigskin Library’ continues to be -a wellspring of comfort. Darling sister, I love you very much. Your -devoted brother.” - -On March 10, 1910, in another letter dated Upper White Nile, he says: - -“Darling sister mine: At Gondokoro I found your welcome letter; and on -the steamer, descending the 1100 miles to Khartoum, bumping into sand -banks, and doing various odd things, I send you this line of answer. - -“Joe Alsop [my only daughter had just become engaged to Joseph Wright -Alsop, of Connecticut] represents to me what I like to think of as the -ideal American citizen--pretty strong praise, and I mean every word of -it. I should be overjoyed if Ethel married a man like him. He is the -big, brave, strong, _good_ man of sound common sense, who works hard -_in the country_, who does his duty in politics, who would make a fine -type of soldier in civil war. I have always put him in the same class -with Bob Ferguson, and with Pinchot, Garfield, Cooley, and the rest of -the ‘Tennis Cabinet.’” - -His “Tennis Cabinet” shared the same warm corner of his heart in which -his “Rough Riders” were firmly ensconced! - -His last letter from the White Nile, March 14, 1910, has in it the -foreboding of what was to come. “Ugh!” he writes, “tell Douglas that I -hate the prospect of being dragged into politics at home. I don’t like -the political outlook.” Even then, although regretting the probability, -he realized the imminence of being “dragged into politics at home.” - -His wonderful reception in Egypt and the admiring recognition shown -him by kings and potentates when he emerged from his year of seclusion -in the jungle are well known to the world. Emperors and monarchs and -presidents vied with each other to do him honor, and never was there -a more triumphant progress than that of Citizen Theodore Roosevelt -through the great countries that had known him as President of the -United States. His tales later of the various potentates were amusing -to the last degree; everything he recounted was told in the most -good-natured, although humorous, spirit, and in many cases he spoke -with warm regard and even affection for the rulers who welcomed him so -warmly to their homes and lives. He referred to the King of Italy as -“a very intelligent and really good man.” He had never felt that the -Emperor of Germany was a _great_ man, nor did he change his opinion, -in spite of the many courtesies shown him by the Kaiser, although he -enjoyed his experiences in Germany and was much interested when asked -to review the great German army by the Emperor. Of all the reigning -monarchs, he seemed to think with the most affection of the King of -Norway, to whom he paid the characteristic compliment of saying that -he “would enjoy having him settle down quietly near him at Oyster -Bay,” and he also spoke with regard of Alfonso of Spain. He gave an -especially interesting account of the funeral ceremonies of King Edward -VII, to which ceremonies he was appointed special envoy; but most of -all he wrote with keen delight of his “bird walk” through the New -Forest and over the adjacent lowlands and uplands with that fellow -bird-lover, the secretary for foreign affairs, then Sir Edward, now -Earl, Grey. Nothing could have been more characteristic of Theodore -Roosevelt than the way in which that walk had been arranged. - -Before he left America to plunge into the African jungle, he wrote to -Lord Bryce in England to the effect that on his return, practically a -year and a quarter from the date on which he wrote, he would like some -one versed in the bird-songs of England to walk with him for a day at -least to acquaint him with the notes of the British feathered singers. -He knew, he said, the appearance and habits of every English bird, but -had never had the chance to match the bird to the song, and he was -very anxious to do so. Lord Bryce happened to meet Sir Edward Grey, -the secretary for foreign affairs, and laughingly mentioned the desire -on the part of President Roosevelt to make this somewhat premature -engagement, and expressed uncertainty as to whom he could choose for -the President’s companion. Sir Edward immediately offered himself, -saying that the knowledge of bird song and lore happened to be one of -his assets, but even Sir Edward felt that the experiences with the -mighty creatures of the jungle, the excitement of the political furor -aroused by a certain speech of Theodore Roosevelt’s in Cairo, and the -triumphal procession through other parts of Europe might, perhaps, have -effaced from his memory his desire for a walk in English woodlands. -But not at all. Sir Edward Grey himself told me, not long ago, that on -the 1st of May, 1910, several weeks before he was expected in England, -there came a note reminding the British secretary for foreign affairs -that the ex-President of the United States wished to be his companion -for twenty-four hours at least of remote enchantment “far from the -madding crowd,” and so when the time came they started together and -tramped through the New Forest, and later over lush meadows inundated -by spring rains. Earl Grey told me that although he had often taken -this particular walk, he had never encountered the slightest difficulty -during the transit, but to be with Theodore Roosevelt was synonymous -with adventure of some kind. While traversing a usually innocuous -meadow, they suddenly came upon a piece of flooded lowland, in this -particular case so flooded that unless they deflected or retraced their -steps, it would mean walking breast-high in water for some distance. -The secretary for foreign affairs referred the decision about the -situation to the ex-President of the United States, and, needless -to say, the man who was accustomed to swim the Potomac River in his -stride, did _not_ deflect his course because of the flooded English -meadow. Later, as they stood under a tree drying themselves in the -afternoon sunshine, a very sweet, delicate song was heard. My brother’s -keen ears caught the trickling notes, and turning with vivid interest -to his companion, he said: “Of all the songs we have heard to-day, that -is the only one which resembles in any degree an American-bird song,” -and he listened eagerly as the obliging bird repeated its dainty music. -“That,” said Earl Grey, “is the crested wren.” “It is a wren also that -sings like that in America,” said my brother. Earl Grey was very much -interested in this, and a few days afterward, meeting a great bird -expert in the British Museum, he repeated the remark of my brother in -connection with the fact that the crested wren’s song was the only one -of any English bird resembling the song of an American bird, and the -expert confirmed what my brother had said. - -Mr. John Burroughs used to say, although he had given his whole life to -ornithology, that Theodore Roosevelt, to whom in later years it became -only a recreation, was almost as well informed on the subject as he was. - -In June, 1910, he returned from Europe, and never in the annals of -American history has such a reception been accorded to a private -citizen. Frankly, I do not think that Theodore Roosevelt was ever -regarded as a _private_ citizen; he was always a public possession! -What a day it was! We went to meet him in a special launch, and from -the moment of his landing until he finally reached his beloved home -at Oyster Bay there was nothing but one great call of delight from -his fellow citizens to the man who still stood to them for the whole -of America. His triumphs, the adulation which he had received from -foreign countries, epitomized to them the regard and respect poured out -to the United States by those other countries of the world. The great -crowds of his waving, cheering fellow citizens lined the avenue of his -triumphant progress, but when he finally joined us at the house at -which the family were assembled as a vantage-point, he seemed just the -same sweet, simple, joyous, and unostentatious comrade as of yore. - -That very first day he gave us the most amusing accounts of some of -his European experiences, humorously describing informal lunches -in Buckingham Palace, when the children of King George and Queen -Mary behaved very much as “young America” is accustomed to behave. -He also gave us what our family has always been pleased to term a -“personal charade” of certain events, especially one moment when -the Kaiser behaved rather like an arrogant schoolboy to one of the -other royalties. He laughingly referred to a message from the Kaiser -during his stay in London, when the above potentate sent him word -that he, William, would be glad to give him (ex-President Roosevelt) -three-quarters of an hour the next day of his precious time! And -ex-President Roosevelt in return sent him a rapid message saying that -_he_ would be delighted to see William, but he regretted that he could -only give him twenty-five minutes! He regaled us for a long while with -many such amusing stories, and then went home to his beloved Sagamore -Hill. - -The following day an incident occurred which had a certain prophetic -quality about it. A great dinner was to be given to him by Robert -Collier, and as usual with his loving thought of me (I had just -returned from a trip around the world and was in very ill health) he -wished to come to my house to spend the night so as to see me. He -arranged to be with me at five o’clock in the afternoon, thus to have a -long, quiet talk before the dinner. I came in from the country and had -afternoon tea waiting for him in my library. A half-hour passed, and -then another half-hour, and I began to get distinctly nervous, because -he was the most prompt of individuals. At a little after six he arrived -looking jaded and worried, and as he took his cup of tea, he turned to -me and said: “A very unpleasant thing happened which made me late. As -you see, I am dressed perfectly inconspicuously, and I slipped into -Scribners [his publishers] a little before five to say a word or two -about my ‘African Game Trails.’ [Scribners at that time was situated at -22d Street and Fifth Avenue.] When I went in there was no crowd at all, -but somebody must have seen me enter the bookstore, and when I came -out a short while afterward, a huge crowd had assembled, and literally -would not let me pass. They wanted to carry me on their shoulders; -they wanted to do utterly impossible and objectionable things; and I -realized at once that this was not the friendly reception of yesterday, -but that it represented a certain hysterical quality which boded ill -for my future. _That type_ of crowd, feeling _that_ kind of way, means -that within a very short time they will be throwing rotten eggs at me. -I may be on the crest of the wave now, but mark my words, the attitude -of that crowd means that they will soon try to help me into the trough -of the wave.” He was so impressed by this incident that that night at -the Collier dinner he repeated and enlarged upon the theme of the crest -and the trough of the wave. - -Yet, in looking back over my brother’s life, I do not think it can be -said that in the true sense of the word he ever experienced the trough -of the wave. The great movement which resulted in the Progressive -party, instigated by internal dissensions in the Republican party, -brought Democratic rule into our country, but, although he was defeated -for public office, it did not throw him into the trough of the wave, -for in reality he emerged from that great movement the leader of the -majority of the Republican party, as was shown on Election day in -November, 1912, when the vote for Theodore Roosevelt was infinitely -larger than that cast for the “regular” Republican candidate, William -Howard Taft. - - - - -XIV - -THE GREAT DENIAL - - Who would not be - A baffled Moses with the eyes to see - The far fruition of the Promised Land! - - --C. R. R. - - How can we manage with our Brother gone, - We smaller folk who looked to him to voice our voicelessness? - - * * * * * - - We do not call him to come back from that free plane where now he - moves untrammeled-- - Un-beset by littleness, by envy of his power to read our hearts, - And blazon forth the message that he found there, - So that those in highest place among us needs must hear - And heed the will of us--the silent ones-- - Who work, and think, and feel, - And are America. - - --Gene Stanton Baker. - - -Theodore Roosevelt had been at home but a few short weeks when he -realized fully that the policies so dear to his heart, and which he -had left in what he considered absolutely safe-keeping, had not been -carried out. Already, in Congress, a large number of the younger -Republicans had combined together as what were then called “The -Insurgents.” In other words, the men who had fully believed in the -policies of Theodore Roosevelt, who felt that no proper progress could -be made toward better government of the United States unless those -policies were followed, had met on all sides with great disappointment; -and although the ex-President had hoped to keep as absolutely “out -of politics” as he had done in the African jungle, these disheartened -and disappointed men, representing largely the younger and more -ardent spirits of his country, turned to him for leadership. These -reminiscences of my brother are not a biography, nor are they a -political analysis of his public life, and I must therefore pass over -many occurrences, the most important of which was his effort in the -autumn of 1910 to defeat the Barnes-Tammany combination in New York -State by running Mr. Henry L. Stimson for governor, which finally -resulted in the position he took in January, 1912. - -During the eighteen months previous he had been contributing editor -of _The Outlook_, and my letters from him in 1911 were few and far -between, as we were frequently together. They were, as usual, full of -deep interest in and affection for me and mine, and as at that time I -began to publish verse, first anonymously and then under my own name, -he gives me generous praise in a note dated August 21, 1911: “I saw B. -the other day. He told me about the acceptance of your second poem, -and spoke most strongly about it, and he, just like everyone else who -has talked to me about the poem, dwelt upon its power and purpose. -[The poem in question was “The Call of Brotherhood.”] It is not merely -pretty, pleasant, trivial, the kind of thing a boy or girl of twenty -could have written; it is written about and for those who have toiled -and suffered and worked, and who have known defeat and triumph; and it -is written by one of them.” In his busy life, called upon endlessly -in every direction, he never failed to encourage any effort of mine -worthy of encouragement, nor indeed to discourage any effort of mine -of which he did not approve. “If convenient,” he adds, “I will come in -about five next Friday for an hour’s talk with you and to see the other -verses. I am sending you a zebra skin which I hope you will like.” - -On October 5, 1911, he writes, referring to a political situation in -Herkimer County, where my son had run for state assemblyman, and where -certain unsavory methods had been used to defeat him (later, through -legal procedure, he was given his seat): “Teddy has been defrauded by -as outrageous a piece of political scoundrelism as I have ever known. -Of course, this scoundrelism could succeed, only because last year, -the big business men, the great ‘Conservatives,’ and professional -‘Intellectuals’ and the like, joined in securing the victory of Tammany -at the polls, and the consequent enthronement of the Barnes-Sherman -crowd in our party. If only we could have elected Harry Stimson for -governor, there would not have been an effort made to handle Teddy as -he has been handled.” Already his indignation was beginning to wax hot -against certain methods much in vogue in the Republican party at that -time. - -He had had no intention of running for the presidential nomination in -1912, and, indeed, in the autumn of 1911 told many of his most faithful -supporters that he was very much averse to doing so; but already a -swelling tide of disapproval of the Taft administration had increased -in volume to such an extent that it swept over a large part of the -country. The Insurgents pleaded for a definite leadership, and to them, -and to many who did not call themselves by that name, there was but -one leader whom they were willing to follow, and that was Theodore -Roosevelt. - -The force of this great wave culminated in the letter of the seven -governors in January, 1912, a letter in which those same seven -governors begged him to take, openly, the leadership of Progressive -Republicanism, and to allow his name to be used as a presidential -nominee in the June convention of 1912. Just before that letter was -published, he writes in his usual sweet way in connection with a visit -which he and Mrs. Roosevelt had intended to pay me in New York (they -were at Sagamore Hill). After speaking of an illness which prevented -Mrs. Roosevelt from coming to me, he said, knowing that I had made -certain engagements for them: “Do you wish to have me come alone? Do -exactly what you think best. I will be in for Tuesday night in any -case, and will be at your house as agreed. I don’t know when I have -ever enjoyed anything more than my lunch at Fannie’s [our dear friend -Mrs. James Russell Parsons],--it was a real feast of Lucullus,--only -far better.” This letter is very boyish and content with friends -and family, and most unlike a man absorbed in schemes of sinister -usurpation, schemes of which he was so soon to be accused. - -In the library at my own house in New York City, a fateful meeting -took place shortly after this last letter came. I confess to having -had serious doubts as to what his answer should be to that request of -the seven governors. Personally, I felt the sacrifice asked of him was -almost too great. I realized perfectly the great struggle before him -and all that it probably would mean, and it seemed to me that he had -already given all that was required of just such service to his beloved -country. But, just as he felt in 1898 that, having preached war upon -Spain, he must take active part in that war, so in 1912 he came to -feel strongly that, having inaugurated certain policies as President -which had not been carried out by his successor--having preached the -necessity for industrial legislation which had not been backed by those -in public authority--it was his duty to bare his breast to the “slings -and arrows of outrageous fortune,” and accept the position of leader of -Progressive Republicanism in order to try to translate into practical -reality the ideals which he had upheld before his countrymen. His -answer to the seven governors pledged himself to such leadership, and -the great upheaval of 1912 took place. - -Never before in his varied career had Theodore Roosevelt felt such a -sense of loneliness, for many of his nearest and dearest friends were -not in sympathy with some of his beliefs in 1912. I shall never forget -the great meeting at Carnegie Hall, when he proclaimed “the faith that -was in him.” He was like an inspired crusader that night when he cast -away the notes from which he had occasionally been reading and made -the magnificent peroration in which he proclaimed the fact that his -doctrine was “Spend and Be Spent,” and that no man worthy the name -of man would not be willing to be an instrument for the success of -his ideals--a broken instrument if need be. He returned after that -thrilling speech to my house, and we sat a long while talking over the -serious step he had taken and the possibilities the future held for -him, and I felt that there was a sense of dedication about him such as -I believe the martyrs of old must have felt. - -In spite of the storm that broke around him after this declaration, -in spite of the manifold activities into which he immediately cast -himself, he takes the time to write to me, March 5, 1912, when my -infant grandchild, born the month before, had died of whooping-cough: -“My darling Sister: You have indeed been through the waters of -bitterness. The little baby! I love little babies so, and I think of -my own little granddaughter, and I mourn with you and Douglas. Now, I -think only with a pang of our lovely day last Sunday. [We had spent -that Sunday with him at Oyster Bay.] If I could have come up to Albany -I would have done so. Ever your devoted brother.” - -The great convention of 1912 took place, and through the ruling of -the chairman certain delegates pledged to Theodore Roosevelt were -deprived of their seats, a ruling which meant his defeat as Republican -candidate. I was ill at the time and could not be present on that -epoch-making occasion. I only know that its result after the above -ruling was considered by my brother absolutely inevitable, and that -he never regarded that result, as did so many people, as the most -unfortunate circumstance of his life. Writing a year and a half later -for the _Century Magazine_, in October, 1913, he says: “Fundamentally -the reason for the existence of the Progressive Party was found in two -facts: first, the absence of real distinctions between the old parties -which correspond _to_ those parties; and, second, the determined -refusal of the men in control of both parties to use the party -organizations and their control of the Government, for the purpose of -dealing with the problems really vital to our people.... A party which -alternately nominated Mr. Bryan and Mr. Parker for President, and a -party wherein Messrs. Penrose, LaFollette, and Smoot, stand as the -three brothers of leadership, can by no possibility supply the need of -this country for efficient and coherent governmental action as regards -the really vital questions of the day.” In the same article he proceeds -to analyze the reasons for the formation of the Progressive Party, and -continues: - -“The problems connected with the trusts, the problems connected with -child labor, and all similar matters can be solved only by affirmative -national action. No party is progressive which does not set the -authority of the National Government as supreme in these matters. No -party is progressive which does not give to the people the right to -determine for themselves, after due opportunity for deliberation, but -without endless difficulty and delay, what the standards of social and -industrial justice shall be; and, furthermore, the right to insist upon -the servants of the people, legislative and judicial alike, paying -heed to the wishes of the people as to what the law of the land shall -be. The Progressive party believes with Thomas Jefferson, with Andrew -Jackson, with Abraham Lincoln, that this is a government of the people, -to be used for the people, so as to better the condition of the average -man and average woman of the nation in the intimate and homely concerns -of their daily lives; and thus to use the government means that it must -be used after the manner of Hamilton and Lincoln to serve the purposes -of Jefferson and Lincoln. - -“We are for the people’s rights. Where these rights can best be -obtained by exercise of the powers of the State, there we are for -_States’_ rights. Where they can best be obtained by the exercise of -the powers of the _National_ Government, there we are for _National_ -rights. We are not interested in this as an abstract doctrine; we are -interested in it concretely.... We believe in the principle of a living -wage. We hold that it is ruinous for _all_ our people, if _some_ of our -people are forced to subsist on a wage such that body and soul alike -are stunted.” - -Referring to the Industrial and Social Justice plank of the platform of -the Progressive party, he continues: - -“The propositions are definite and concrete. They represent for the -first time in our political history the specific and reasoned purpose -of a great party to use the resources of the government in sane fashion -for industrial betterment.... - -“To sum up, then, our position is, after all, simple. We believe that -the government should concern itself chiefly with the matters that are -of most importance to the average man and average woman, and that it -should be its special province to aid in making the conditions of life -easier for these ordinary men and ordinary women, who compose the great -bulk of our people. To this end we believe that the people should have -direct control over their own governmental agencies, and that when this -control has been secured, it should be used with resolution, but with -sanity and self-restraint, in the effort to make conditions fairer and -better for the men and women of the nation.” - -I have inserted this quotation from his own writings in 1913, for it -gives clearly the objects and aims of that party, born at Chicago amid -scenes of almost religious enthusiasm in June, 1912, nor did that -enthusiasm wane for one single moment during the following months; on -the contrary, it rose to the heights of dedication. - -There were some who lost their sense of proportion, but by far the -greater number of those who followed Theodore Roosevelt in that -extraordinary campaign were imbued with a high sense of a “Great -Cause,” a cause which had never before been translated into the -common sense of possible achievement. The New York State Progressive -Convention met at Syracuse, and at that assemblage I was able to be -present, and whatever doubts might have been in my breast before were -swept away by a deep conviction of the fact that the Progressive Party -was the true interpretation of the highest ideal of democracy. - -Just about the time of the Progressive Convention at Syracuse, an -article appeared, written by a citizen of Unadilla, N. Y., C. C. Penny -by name, in which the above citizen gives the reasons which induced him -to vote for “Teddy,” as he affectionately calls the colonel. - - “_To the Editor of the Utica Daily Press_:-- - - “Having had the question put up to me as to what Roosevelt has - ever done politically to better conditions, I would submit the - following: First,--What did Mr. Roosevelt do as President that - he should not have done in the public interest, or that was - dangerous or hurtful to business? Mr. Roosevelt’s intervention - in the coal strike benefited all consumers; Mr. Roosevelt is - responsible for the Pure Food and Drugs Act; the open door to - American commerce with China; the settlement of the Russo-Japan - War; Panama Canal project; conservation of natural resources; - reduction of interest-bearing debt by more than ninety million - dollars; settlement of the Alaska boundary dispute; an act calling - for the extension of forest reserves; national irrigation act; - employers’ liability act; safety appliances and regulation of - railroad employees’ hours of labor.--Was Mr. Roosevelt’s work in - bringing about the settlement of the Russo-Japan War dangerous and - hurtful to business? Was Roosevelt’s Panama Canal project dangerous - and hurtful to business? Was his movement for the conservation of - our natural resources dangerous and hurtful to business? These are - a few of the things which he suggested and carried through with the - help of his followers. Besides, he recommended many other reforms - such as Postal Savings Bank, Parcels Post, and Inheritance Tax and - Income Tax which he had not time to carry through during his last - term. - - “All these, it seems to me, are reforms to better the conditions of - the great mass of people. The Progressive platform has been growing - for the last sixteen years all through the Northwest, and West and - South, only waiting for a man to come out, bold enough to take the - lead. Mr. Roosevelt, it seems, has dared to take this step, and - whether we win or lose, it is a step forward to the betterment of - the conditions of all who toil and consume. I have always voted the - Republican ticket, but I consider that true Republican principles - at this time rest with the Progressive Party, and I shall vote for - that party this Fall, and for Teddy, win or lose.” - -In October that year my volume of poems called by the title of its -first poem, “The Call of Brotherhood,” was published, and my brother -writes me at once, though in the midst of pressing duties: “I love ‘The -Call of Brotherhood’; somehow it seems to express just what we are now -battling for in the political arena. Well, the feeling, the longing, -the desire, the determination you have made throb in these poems, also -make it impossible for us to sit in fat content and not strive for -better things in _actual life_. When we felt rather inarticulately just -what you have written, we simply couldn’t refrain from the effort [he -refers to the Progressive Party] as a practical means to realize high -ideals. That is what we must do with high ideals,--apply them and try -to live up to them, and to make them work.--Joe and Teddy have done -wonderful work; and so has Douglas.... I seem to have cost my friends -much in all kinds of ways in this campaign; that was one of the reasons -why I so hated to go into it.” Many people misjudged his motives and -thought that he went into it for selfish purposes; never was there a -more mistaken conception of the actions of a patriot. - -In a letter written September 1, he says: “I am just leaving for the -West. It has been a very interesting fight, and never was there a fight -better worth making, but the exertion is tremendous, and I look forward -to Election Day as the end of a battle.” - -During that Western trip, he had one of his greatest personal ovations. -One of the Western newspapers says: - -“In Portland, Oregon, the city practically stopped business and turned -out to receive its guest. In each city, the personal element of the -greeting was remarkable. No one was thinking of Colonel Roosevelt in -connection with his past office as President. He was ‘Roosevelt.’ It -was ‘Hello Teddy’ and ‘Hurrah for Teddy’ everywhere along the densely -packed streets where he appeared. His speeches to these multitudes -were neither original nor new, but the people understood them. -The enthusiasm of these western cities for the ex-President seems -almost fabulous. At Portland, hundreds of school children escorted -the automobile. Women brought their children, cripples were wheeled -to horse blocks, men climbed on cornices and pediments, mothers of -twins pressed to the side of the car, people literally blackened -sidewalks, residence verandas, windows of houses, even the trees. At -Tacoma a woman was heard to remark, ‘If this ex-President has lost his -popularity, I would hate to be in a crowd that had gathered to see an -ex-President who had _not_ lost his popularity,’--and everywhere he -preached the common-sense doctrine:-- - -“Now friends, what I have said to you is pretty elementary,--so -elementary that it comes mighty near being commonplace, but I will tell -you that the truths that really count are the elementary truths. The -individual whom we respect is not merely the brilliant individual. The -man whom we wish our sons to resemble is the man who has the ordinary -virtues developed to more than the ordinary degree.” - -He himself believed that he was not a man of genius but only a man with -average talents, talents which by sheer determination and will-power he -had developed to a more than ordinary degree. - -Shortly after the ovation in Oregon, he writes on September 15 from San -Francisco: “Of course this trip is inconceivably wearing, but what a -fine fight it is, anyhow!” To him it was a great crusade for the right, -and his soul was at white heat in the cause of righteousness. - -Later came the dramatic moment in Milwaukee when he received in his -breast the bullet of a would-be assassin. He protected the man, -believing him to be insane, from the angry crowd who would have gladly -torn him limb from limb; and then proceeded, though bleeding from an -open wound, to make what he fully believed would probably be the last -speech that he would ever make in this world. The doctors could not -influence him to give up the speech, for he said that should it prove -to be his last, it was all the more important that he should make it. -But, thank Heaven, it was not his last! - -During his convalescence in the hospital in Chicago, he sent me one -of his sympathetic letters about another recently published poem, -and also replied to a letter from Sir George Trevelyan as follows: -“I must say I have never understood public men who got nervous about -assassination. For the last eleven years I have, of course, thoroughly -understood that I might at any time be shot, and probably _would_ be -shot sometime. I think I have come off uncommonly well. What I cannot -understand is any serious-minded public man not being so absorbed in -the great, vital questions with which he has to deal, as to exclude -thoughts of assassination. I don’t think this is a matter of courage at -all. I think it a question of the major interest driving out the minor -interest. Exactly as with the army,--a private may have qualms,--hot so -a General. He is responsible for more than his personal safety. It is -not a question of courage, it is a question of perspective, of proper -proportion.” Nothing has ever been more in keeping with the actions of -Theodore Roosevelt than the above sentence: “it is a question of the -major interest driving out the minor interest.” With him, all through -his life, the sense of proportion was a prominent part of his make-up. -The “major interest” always drove out the “minor interest,” and so -strong was his sense of responsibility, so absorbed was he in the great -affairs of his country, that the thought of possible assassination -never entered his valiant breast. - -The greatest moment of all that inspiring period of his life came late -in October, at the end of the campaign, when Theodore Roosevelt, -the bullet still in his breast, but miraculously restored to health -and strength, came to the city of his birth to make the final speech -of the Progressive campaign at Madison Square Garden. Not only was -the spirit of the Crusade higher than ever, but the danger so lately -experienced by their leader had given to his followers an exaltation -never surpassed at any time in our political history. I have always -been glad that for some unexplained reason the pass which had been -given to me that night for my motor was not accepted by the policeman -in charge, and I, my husband, my son Monroe, and our friend Mrs. -Parsons were obliged to take our places in the cheering, laughing, -singing crowd which formed in line many blocks below the Garden to walk -up to the entrance-door. How it swayed and swung! how it throbbed with -life and elation! how imbued it was with an earnest party ambition, and -yet, with a deep and genuine religious fervor. Had I lived my whole -life only for those fifteen minutes during which I marched toward -the Garden already full to overflowing with my brother’s adoring -followers, I should have been content to do so. We could hardly get -into the building, and indeed had to climb up the fire-escape, which -we were only allowed to do after making it well known that I was the -sister of the “Colonel.” (There never was but one “Colonel” in American -history!) The whole meeting was one of an ineffable and intense -emotional quality. We could hear the singing and the cheers of the -thousands outside on the street, as inside my brother came forward to -the platform, and the vast audience rose to its feet to acclaim its -hero. Such moments do not often occur in a lifetime, and when they do, -they leave in their wake a wonderful sense of what the highest type of -religion should mean--a religion selfless as the Christlike faith upon -which all true religion is founded. - -A few days later, Woodrow Wilson, the Democratic though minority -candidate, was elected President of the United States. - - - - -XV - -WHISPERINGS OF WAR - - SAGAMORE HILL - - He is a moose, - Scarred, battered from the hunters, thickets, stones: - Some finest tips of antlers broken off, - And eyes where images of ancient things - Flit back and forth across them, keeping still - A certain slumberous indifference, - Or wisdom, it may be. - - --Edgar Lee Masters. - - Rightly to be great - Is not to stir, without great argument, - But greatly to find quarrel in a straw - When Honour’s at the stake. - - --Hamlet. - - -No man in America ever received the backing of so large a personal -following as did Theodore Roosevelt in the election of 1912, but owing -to the fact that opinion was divided, the Democratic party, although -a minority party, was put in power. It has been the habit of some to -speak of my brother as having split the Republican party. This has -always seemed to me an unfair criticism. It was proved by the actual -vote at the polls that the larger half of what up to that time had -been the Republican party was in favor of Theodore Roosevelt for -President. His majority over Mr. Taft was unquestioned. A minority, not -a majority, disrupts a party. Nothing is truer, however, than that a -really great man cannot be defeated. He can lose official position, he -can see the office which he craved because of its potential power for -right doing pass into the hands of another; but in the higher sense of -the word he cannot be defeated if his object has been righteousness, if -his inner vision has been the true betterment of his country. - -And so during the years that followed 1912, Theodore Roosevelt, -although holding no official position, became more than ever the leader -of a great portion of the people of America. Loyal as he was, he felt -that having (as he phrased it) “led a vast army into the wilderness,” -he must stand by them through thick and thin. - -In 1913, having been asked to make certain addresses in South America, -he decided to accept the invitation. But before sailing he went to -Rochester, N. Y., to make a speech, and arranged that my husband and -I should meet him and have an evening quietly with him. Immediately -after that there was a great farewell dinner to him in New York, at the -Hotel Astor. The crowd was suffocating. It seemed as if the enthusiasm -for him and for Progressive principles was even more poignant than the -year before--perhaps the realization that their leader was to leave -them, even for a comparatively short time, increased the ardor of the -convictions of his followers--and the spirit of that evening was so -vital, so dedicated in quality, that it will never fade from my mind. -The next day he and Mrs. Roosevelt sailed for the Argentine Republic, -and within a few months she returned home, and he again lost himself in -a new adventure. The little boy of six in the nursery at 20th Street -had read with fervent interest of the adventures of the great explorer -Livingston. He had achieved his ambition to follow those adventures -as a mighty hunter in Africa; he had achieved many another ambition, -but none was more intense with him than the desire to put a so-called -“River of Doubt” on the map of the world. - -Again Kermit was his companion, and the latter has given, as no one -else could give, the most vivid description of that trip in his book -called “The Happy Hunting Grounds.” In that book he describes his -father’s desperate illness, and his heroic and unflinching courage -when, with a temperature of one hundred and five, he struggled -on through the mazes of the jungle, weak and weary, unselfishly -begging his companions to leave him to die, for he felt that his -condition endangered the possibility of their escape alive from their -difficulties. As in Africa, so in South America his tireless energy, -even when weakened by illness, never failed to accomplish his purpose, -and not only did he put the “River of Doubt” on the map--a river which -from that time forth was called Rio Teodoro, after Theodore Roosevelt, -the explorer--but during those suffering, exhausting weeks he never -once failed to keep his promise to his publishers, and to write, on -the spot, the incidents of each day’s adventures. Robert Bridges, of -Scribners, has shown me the water-soaked manuscript, written in my -brother’s own handwriting, of that extraordinary expedition. In several -places on the blotched sheets he makes a deprecatory note--“This is not -written very clearly; my temperature is 105.” Such perseverance, such -persistence are really superhuman; but perhaps it is also true that -the _human_ being must eventually pay the price of what the superman -achieves. - -Theodore Roosevelt returned from that Brazilian trip a man in whom a -secret poison still lurked, and although his wonderful vitality, his -magnificent strength of character, mind, and body, seemed at times -to restore him to the perfect health of former days, he was never -wholly free from recurrent attacks of the terrible jungle fever, which -resulted in ill health of various kinds, and finally in his death. - -True to his loyal convictions, he was determined to give all the aid -possible to the candidates on the Progressive ticket for the election -of 1914. His wife writes, August, 1914: “Theodore seems really better, -although I scarcely think he will have voice for the three speeches -he has planned for the last of the month. I asked him if I could say -anything from him about the War, and he simply threw up his hands in -despair.” This letter was written nine days after the cataclysm of -the Great War had broken upon the world. From the beginning he said to -his family what he did not feel he could state publicly, owing to the -fact that he did not wish to embarrass President Wilson. Having been -President himself, he knew it was possible for one in high authority -to have information which he could not immediately share with all the -people, and he hoped this might be the reason of President Wilson’s -failure to make any protest when the enemy troops invaded Belgium. - -To his family, however, he spoke frankly and always with deep regret -that the President enjoined a neutral attitude in the beginning. He -felt, from the very first, that the Allies were fighting our battles; -that the British fleet was the protector of the United States as much -as it was the protector of Great Britain; that a protest should have -immediately been made by the United States when the Germans marched -through Belgium. All these views he stated to his family and to his -friends, but for the first few months after August 1, 1914, he felt -that, as an influential citizen, he might hurt the fulfilment of -whatever plan the President might have in view in connection with the -Allies were he openly to criticise the President’s course of action. -Later in the war he told me how much he regretted that, from a high -sense of duty toward the Executive, he had controlled himself during -those first few months when we were asked by President Wilson to be -neutral even in thought. - -In my sister-in-law’s letter, quoted above, she speaks of her doubt as -to whether my brother would be strong enough to make the speeches which -he had agreed to make. The Philadelphia _North American_ published, -about that time, an editorial called “The Amazing Roosevelt,” a few -paragraphs of which run as follows: - -“On April 30th, there came out of the seething jungles of Brazil to a -river port 1000 miles up the Amazon, a man who was heralded by cable -dispatches as broken in body and permanently impaired in mind.... On -his arrival at home, there were grave dicta from former critics that -never again would this man be a force in public life. The solemnity of -these pronouncements scarcely concealed the gratification which they -gave to some who promulgated them. Unbiassed stories of the hardships -suffered in the tropical forests appeared to be cumulative evidence to -support the belief that Theodore Roosevelt was ‘done for’ as a factor -in public life. - -“A sick man had virtually dragged himself through the most obdurate -jungle still unmapped.... It had looked as if the entire party might -be sacrificed and he had begged his followers to go on and leave him -to take care of himself. On his return, he was warned by an eminent -specialist that he must eschew speech-making if he hoped to avoid -permanent injury to his throat. Another specialist warned him that -impaired vital organs necessitated his withdrawing altogether from -public activities. This was the Roosevelt who went to Pittsburgh to -speak to the Progressives of Pennsylvania this week. What was it the -Progressives gathered there to hear? Was it a swan song,--was it the -plea of a broken man,--what was the character of the gathering? Was -it a congregation of saddened and disheartened people, come to pay -a kindly tribute to a passing leader? It was none of these things. -The demonstration for Roosevelt and Progressive principles surpassed -anything in the 1912 campaign, and the Roosevelt who greeted this great -demonstration was the vigorous, fighting Roosevelt who so long had -led the people’s battles. He was never received with more enthusiasm. -The New York _Times_, not a paper in favor of Colonel Roosevelt, -said: ‘The Pennsylvania Progressives gave Colonel Roosevelt a welcome -tonight which must have reminded him of 1912. The demonstration was -a remarkable one.’ And _The World_ said: ‘The Colonel enjoyed every -minute. Malaria was forgotten and all physical weakness along with it -as he stood at the vortex of the night’s enthusiasm.’ - -“No one can read the speech which Roosevelt made that night without -being convinced that the dismal forebodings that came out of that -Amazon port last April, have already been discredited, and that the -man who in 1912 stood with an assassin’s bullet near his heart, and -insisted upon delivering a message which might be his last, is not to -be broken or even impaired in 1914 by the hardships of a South American -jungle. It is but another example of the amazing Roosevelt.” - -That same autumn of 1914 he came to our old home in Herkimer County -once more, but this time he was the guest of my son Theodore Douglas -Robinson, and stayed at his house, which adjoins the old home. From -there Mrs. Parsons and he and I joined the candidate for governor on -the Progressive ticket, State Senator Frederick A. Davenport, and -former State Senator Newcomb, for a short speaking tour to uphold the -candidacy of Senator Davenport. We knew there was very little hope of -success, but my brother had recuperated apparently from the Brazilian -trip, and we spent two merry days dashing through Herkimer and Otsego -counties. In spite of anxiety and a deep sense of distress about Old -World conditions, for a brief moment we threw off all care, and in the -glorious autumn sunshine, followed by cheering crowds, we enjoyed one -of the triumphal processions which were almost always a _sine qua non_ -wherever he appeared. One specially merry afternoon and evening was -spent at the home of James Fenimore Cooper. My brother was to speak -at Cooperstown in the afternoon, and Mr. Cooper invited us to dinner, -but I told him that the party must reach Oneonta for dinner, so that -we could only take afternoon tea at his house. I had not confided this -refusal to Theodore, simply taking it for granted that it would be -impossible for us to accept the Cooper invitation and reach Oneonta in -time for his evening speech. The Cooper home, full of treasures that -had descended from Mr. Cooper’s grandfather, the author of “The Last -of the Mohicans,” etc., and equally full of charming people, gave us -so warm a welcome, and we had such an agreeable time there, that my -brother was very loath to leave, but at 6.30 I insisted that we must -start for Oneonta. We were already in the motors when Mr. Cooper, -leaning over to say good-by, assured Colonel Roosevelt of his regret -that he could not stay to dinner. “Dinner?” said my brother. “I didn’t -know I was asked to dinner.” “Yes, you were, of course,” said Mr. -Cooper; “but your sister, Mrs. Robinson, refused to let you stay for -dinner, saying that you would have to reach Oneonta at 8 o’clock.” “May -I ask,” said my brother in a high falsetto, “what business my sister, -Mrs. Robinson, had to refuse a dinner invitation for me?” And, with a -bound, he leaped from the automobile, shaking, laughingly, his fist at -me, and said, “Dinner with the Coopers! Well, of course, I am going to -stay to dinner,” and returned rapidly to the house, followed meekly -by his party. The hospitable and resourceful Coopers, who naturally, -after my refusal, had not expected seven extra people to dinner, turned -in, assisted by Theodore himself, and proceeded to scramble eggs and -broil bacon, much to the amusement and delight of the cook, who had -never had an ex-President in her kitchen before, and of all the merry -dinner-parties that I have ever attended, that one, forced upon the -delightful Fenimore Coopers, was about the merriest. - -Senator Davenport had been in poor health at the time, and my brother -called him entirely “Little Eva,” after the angel child of Harriet -Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” both because of his rather -transparent appearance and his high-minded principles (upon which the -Colonel dilated in his speeches). He called himself “Uncle Tom,” and -Senator Newcomb “Simon Legree,” and those cognomens and no others were -used throughout the entire trip, which proved a veritable holiday. - -But neither that trip nor any other trip could have changed the fate -of the Progressive candidates in 1914, and New York State showed at -election time, as did various other states in the country, that America -was not prepared for a third party, even though that party stood, more -than did any other party, for the practical common sense and high -idealism of Theodore Roosevelt. - -Just before Election day I accompanied him to Princeton, where Doctor -John Grier Hibben, president of the university, received him with -distinction, and asked him to speak to the body of students there not -only on political faiths but on “Preparedness.” Unless I am very much -mistaken, the first speech on that subject in the United States during -the Great War was that very address made in the auditorium of Princeton -in November, 1914, by my brother. His young and eager listeners among -the student body applauded him to the echo. The cause of preparedness -and true Americanism had no stancher upholder at that time, nor in the -difficult years to come, than President Hibben of Princeton University. -Theodore Roosevelt, Henry Cabot Lodge, Leonard Wood, John Grier Hibben, -Augustus P. Gardner, and other far-seeing patriots, stood from the -beginning for the Allies against the Huns, and for “Preparedness” of a -thorough kind. Had their advice been followed, Germany would very soon -have sensed how formidable an influence in the war America could be. I -am convinced there would have been no sinking of the _Lusitania_, and -hundreds of thousands of gallant young men would not have lost their -lives on Flanders Fields. - -On November 12, 1914, after Election day, my brother writes me: -“Darling Corinne:--That is a very dear letter of yours! I shall make no -further statement. Did you see my quotation from Timothy II, Chapter -4, verses 3 and 4? It covers the whole situation. Ever yours, Theodore -Roosevelt.” - -The verses referred to are as follows: - -(3) For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; -but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, -having itching ears; - -(4) And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be -turned unto fables. - -He was very apt to sum up a situation in some pregnant verse from the -Bible. - -The winter of 1915 was trying to him in certain ways, especially on -account of the Barnes libel suit. He had made the statement that Mr. -Barnes had, politically, a bipartisan attitude, and indeed more than -attitude, and Mr. Barnes decided to bring a suit for libel against him. -In spite of this annoyance, however, he writes me various letters, some -merry, and all dealing with subjects where he or I could be of help to -others less fortunate. In one case, in connection with a certain French -pastor, to whom I could not be of assistance in the way in which he had -hoped, he writes: “I understand perfectly. I felt like a swine when I -wrote you, but the poor, dear pastor was such a pathetic figure that -from sheer mushy weakness I yielded, and strove to do something for -him.” And later, in connection with a penniless poet: “Can you give me -any advice? I wish I knew some wealthy creature who was interested in -poor struggling poets and could help them, and also help their poor -wives and children after their deaths. Lord! how hard life is!” That -time I was able to help him, and raised quite a sum for the struggling -individual in question, whom I thought truly deserved help. - -Just then Mrs. William Astor Chanler arranged a charming play for the -benefit of a war charity, a play in which there were scenes depicting -Washington at Valley Forge. My little grandson took the part of his -many times great-grandfather, Captain Isaac Roosevelt, and my brother, -with sympathetic pleasure, came as an honored guest to the performance, -and was later photographed with the small actors. He writes from -Syracuse, where he had gone to take the defense for himself in the -libel suit: “Was little Captain Isaac Roosevelt one of the bewildering -number of small Revolutionary leaders who had their photographs taken -with me? I have felt a pang that I did not particularly seek him out, -but the confusion was so great that I could not identify any one of the -constantly revolving small boys and girls behind the scenes; and until -we were actually in place I had supposed that they were all to have -their photographs taken with me.” In this same letter he says, speaking -of the fact that his wife had been ill when he left New York: “I have -been so worried about Edith that this libel suit has bothered me very -little. Of course I was rather tired by my nine days on the witness -stand, but I felt I made my case pretty clear. How the suit will go I -have no idea, but in any event I do not feel that my friends have any -cause to be ashamed of me.” On May 24, at the end of the suit, in which -he scored a great triumph, he writes: “Dearest Corinne and Douglas: It -was fine to get your telegrams and letters. You two were among those -who I knew would stand by me absolutely, win or lose; but I am awfully -glad it is a case of winning and not losing. Just as soon as you get -back from Virginia I must see you both and tell you everything.” He did -tell us everything, and many were the things that he told! - -Twice in his life Theodore Roosevelt took part in libel suits. In the -first case _he_ brought the suit against a newspaper which had openly -accused him of intoxication. In the second place he was the defendant, -as I have already mentioned. Nothing was ever more unfounded than -the strange and persistent rumor that Theodore Roosevelt indulged in -intoxicating liquors. It has been my great good fortune to have been -associated with men of great self-control as regards drink, but of all -my intimate contemporaries, no one ever drank as little as my brother. -I do not think he ever in his life tasted a cocktail, and he hated -whiskey, and it rarely could be found at Sagamore Hill. He occasionally -took a glass of sherry or port or champagne, but those, even, only -occasionally; and how the report started that he overindulged in drink -no one has ever been able to discover; but like many another sinister -thing it swelled with its own volume, and after serious thought he -chose an occasion when he could make a definite charge, and demanded -a trial when the newspaper in question _printed_ the heretofore -only whispered untruth. I do not believe that so many distinguished -men ever before travelled to a remote Western town, as travelled to -give testimony about the sobriety of Theodore Roosevelt. Foreign -ambassadors, famous generals, scientists, literary men, artists, all -journeyed in an endless trail to give, with ardent loyalty, their -personal knowledge of the impeccable habits of my brother. The result -was an award of damages which my brother refused to take and the most -abject apologies on the part of the editor. The other suit, the Barnes -suit, was entirely different, for in that transaction he was the man to -make the accusation, and his opponent was a most brilliant and acute -individual, and even although my brother’s followers were confident -of the accuracy of the statement he had made, for his statements -were consistently accurate, still we felt that some apparent lack of -proof, even though only apparent, might bring about an unfortunate -result. Mr. John Bowers, one of the most able of his profession, was -my brother’s lawyer, and he later gave me many an amusing description -of that extraordinary case. The counsel for the plaintiff were always -averse to allowing my brother to testify, for the effect he produced -upon the jury was immediate and startling. The opposing side would -object to nearly _everything_ he said, simply because _anything_ he -said induced a rapid and favorable response from the jury. In one part -of the testimony Mr. Bowers told me that my brother had repeated a -conversation between Mr. Barnes and himself, and had gone into accurate -detail, which was listened to by the jury with intense and sympathetic -excitement, whereupon the lawyer for the plaintiff objected to Mr. -Roosevelt’s statement as an “irrelevant monologue.” Quick as a flash my -brother turned upon the objector and said that “of course the gentleman -in question might _call_ it a monologue, but as Mr. Barnes had had as -much to do with the conversation as himself, he, personally, would call -it a _dialogue_.” This retort brought down not only the house but the -jury, and the unfortunate opposing lawyer withdrew his objection. That -story and many others my brother recounted to us with humorous and -sarcastic delight, shortly after the end of the trial, around a family -tea-table one Sunday evening at Sagamore Hill. - -In September of that year, 1915, we suffered the loss of our beloved -friend Mrs. Henry Cabot Lodge. Since the early days of 1884, she -had shared the joys and sorrows of our lives. Beautiful, brilliant, -sympathetic, exquisite in her delicate individuality, in her -intellectual inspiration, in her fine humor and sense of values--her -beautiful head like a rare cameo, her wonderful gray-blue eyes looking -out under dark, level brows, she remains one of the pictures most -treasured in the memories of the Roosevelt family. My brother was -always at his best with her, and I have rarely heard him talk in a -broader and more comprehensive way of politics and literature than in -the homelike library at 1765 Massachusetts Avenue, the house where -Senator and Mrs. Lodge were always surrounded by an intimate circle of -friends. By her tea-table, in the rocking-chair bought especially for -him, Theodore Roosevelt would sit and rock when he snatched a happy -half-hour after his ride with the senator in those old days when he -was the President of the United States. Mrs. Lodge had the power of -stimulating the conversation of others, as well as the gift of leading -in conversation herself, and the best “talk” that I have ever heard was -around her tea-table in Washington. Her sudden death was a great blow -to my brother as it was to us all. - -All through that year and through the year to come, although severely -censured for his criticisms of the President’s policies, my brother -worked with arduous determination, shoulder to shoulder with General -Leonard Wood and Augustus P. Gardner, to arouse the American people -to the danger of non-preparedness, and to the shame of allowing the -exhausted Allies to bear without America’s help the brunt of the -battle. Those men of vision realized, fully, that in a world aflame, -no nation could possibly escape the danger of conflagration. Not only -from that standpoint did the apostles of preparedness press forward, -but from the love of democracy also. These courageous patriots wished -to have their country share spontaneously from the beginning the effort -for righteousness for which France, England, and Italy were giving the -lives of the flower of their youth. - -By pen, and even more by word of mouth, always at the expense of his -energy, Theodore Roosevelt went up and down the country, preaching the -doctrine of brotherhood and preparedness for self-defense. As early as -January, 1915, General Wood had asked me to have a meeting to interest -some of the men of New York in his plans for the training-camps, -which later developed into the “Plattsburg idea.” Many of the men -who in later days were patriotically ardent in their support of that -Plattsburg idea spoke to me with amused indifference at the end of -that meeting in January, 1915, and asked me why I had made such a -point of their coming to it! At the same time, Augustus P. Gardner, -in the House of Representatives, struggled to arouse the country -from its lethargy. Gradually, however, the force of the truth of the -doctrine which was being preached by the few percolated through the -minds and hearts of many of the American people, and at the beginning -of the year 1916 one could feel a certain response to a higher ideal. -In May, 1915, after the dastardly sinking of the _Lusitania_, the -country could have been easily led in the path of duty and high ideals. -The psychological moment was at hand when over a hundred women and -children, non-combatants, and over whom flew the British flag, were -hurled into the sea by the dastardly tactics of Germany,--but this is a -digression. In January, 1916, I was chosen a delegate by the National -Security League (an organization started during the first year of the -war to uphold the policy of “Preparedness”) to its first conference at -Washington, and there I was asked to read a letter from my brother, -as he could not be present at the conference. He writes me on January -22, 1916: “I was very much surprised and much pleased when I saw in -the papers that you had read my letter to the Security League.” And -again, two days later, came one of his characteristic little notes -(no one ever took such pains to do and say loving and lovely things): -“Darling Pussie,” he says this time: “Judge Nortoni and Bob Bacon have -been out here to Sagamore Hill separately, and both feel that your -speech was the feature of the Washington meeting. I will tell you all -that they say next Sunday when you come to us. I was really touched by -their enthusiastic admiration of you and the speech. _My_ letter was -apparently regarded only as the peg on which the speech was hung. Ever -yours, T. R.” Needless to say, my speech was only an insignificant -addendum to his letter, but he truly believed that his sister’s speech -was the more important of the two things! - -In February he gladly lent me his name for the New York advisory -committee of “The Fatherless Children of France,” a society started by -two magnificent Englishwomen, Miss Schofield and Miss Fell, for which I -was privileged to form the New York City committee. “Of course use my -name,” he says. I do not remember ever asking him for it that he did -not lend it to me--that name which counted more than almost any other -name of his time. - -In March, 1916, he sailed with Mrs. Roosevelt for Trinidad, and during -his absence there began again the rumblings of desire on the part of -the people of the United States to have him named as presidential -candidate on the Republican ticket in the forthcoming convention. A -certain faction of the Progressive party still clung to the hope that -it could achieve its heart’s desire and name him on their ticket, -but he had come more and more to the conclusion that the Republican -and the Progressive parties must amalgamate in their choice of a -nominee, for he firmly believed that Mr. Wilson’s policies had been of -sinister influence in the country, and he was convinced that nothing -was so important as to remove this, from his standpoint, unfortunate -influence. More and more he believed that our country should bear a -gallant part in the terrible adventure across the sea; more and more -he preached the doctrine that we should go to the aid of the war-worn -countries who sorely needed America’s help. - -I cannot refrain from inserting here a letter written by Colonel -Roosevelt to his dear friend and classmate Charles G. Washburn, who had -just published his able book called “Theodore Roosevelt--The Logic -of His Career.” That book had special interest because, although Mr. -Washburn never wavered in his personal, loyal, and devoted attachment -to Colonel Roosevelt, his political convictions were such that he -had not found it possible to follow the Colonel into the Progressive -party. The book in question, having been written during the period -between 1912 and 1916, the period when many people felt that my brother -was politically dead, was published, strange to say, just as the -pendulum swung back again, when the people realized the need of strong -leadership in the crisis of the Great War, and Theodore Roosevelt -seemed to many to be the man of the hour. - -“Dear Charlie:” writes Colonel Roosevelt, “We leave on the 10th of -this month [for Trinidad]. I am much amused to think that there is a -momentary revival of my popularity or notoriety or whatever you choose -to call it, at the very time your book is to appear, for when you -started to write it, indeed, while you were writing it, I was down at -the very nadir; and only a very devoted friendship--others would call -it a very blind friendship--would have made you write it. I, myself, -thought that it was not wise for you to publish it, that nobody would -take any interest in me, and that they would only laugh at you for your -loyalty and affection.” - -The following day he writes again: “Just after I had written you, -the book came. I am immensely pleased with it, and I am very proud -that my children and grandchildren are to have it.... Of course, old -friend, you have said of me far more than I deserve, but I am glad you -said it.” The book to which he refers shows, perhaps, more than any -other book written about my brother, the accurate realization by the -author that my brother’s attitude in January, 1912, when he took the -step which directly or indirectly brought about the formation of the -Progressive party, was in no sense an erratic swerving from the path -upon which he had always walked, but, on the contrary, a direct and -logical justification of beliefs--and the actions with which he always -squared beliefs--held in his early manhood and retained in his later -years. - -On March 27, after his return from Trinidad, he writes: - -“Well, here we are, back from our little trip along ‘the path to -Nowhere’ [He refers here to some verses I had just published under that -title.] We did not get entirely out of the path to Somewhere--thanks -to the ‘hurrying, struggling, and striving’ of very kind people who -insisted on entertaining us--but we had, at intervals, a number of -hours on the path to Nowhere, although, in that latitude, there were -no adders’ tongues, and the lilies were less in evidence than palms, -bougainvillea, scarlet hibiscus and poinsettia in hedges, and rocks and -flowering trees, and little green cities of St. Mary’s (I wish I had -seen Masefield)--and the trade wind tossing the fronds of the palms on -the white beaches. - -“I loved your letter, and read and re-read every word of it. I think -as highly of ‘Ordeal by Battle’ as you do; did I show you the letter -Oliver sent me with a copy of the first edition? He has just sent me a -copy of the second edition. I am very glad you are taking a rest cure. -You sorely needed it, but when you leave Nonkanawha, can’t you bring -Cortissoz and the Corbins out here for lunch. I am very glad you like -my book. My soul was in it. [He had just published “Fear God, and Take -Your Own Part.”] ... Well, I don’t see much chance of our doing what is -right in politics. The trouble is that we have complacently sagged back -for fifty years while Germany has surged forward and has forced her -nearest competitors to some kind of forward movement in order to avoid -death at her hands.” - -Shortly afterward, when in answer to his suggestion I wrote him that I -would bring some of the friends he mentioned to luncheon, he writes: -“Three cheers--I shall expect you with the Cortissoz, Corbins, and -O’Hara.” - -That letter was written on April 2, 1916, and shortly afterward I -motored those friends to Oyster Bay, and we had a peculiarly delightful -luncheon and afternoon, at which I was, as usual, struck with the -manner in which he adapted himself to the interest of the individual. -Mr. John Myers O’Hara, an American poet of classic and lyric quality, -was shown a special poem in which my brother felt that there was -similarity between his work and that of the author of the lines in -question; Mr. Cortissoz, whose delicious humor was a special delight to -my brother, found the Colonel not only sympathetic in those ways, but -also in the quality of his artistic thought; he adapted himself to each -in turn, and we all motored away from that full and rich environment -each more stimulated than before along the line of the special -achievement to which he aspired. - -On his return from Trinidad, he had been beset by questions as to -whether he would consent again to be the presidential nominee. The -Progressive party, after its severe defeat in various States in -1914, still showed a grim desire to be at least a strong factor in -the nomination for a presidential candidate in the coming election, -and various combinations of individuals were already in process of -coalition in the happy thought that Theodore Roosevelt might be -the combined nominee of both Progressive and Republican forces. A -certain number of such citizens formed what they called The Roosevelt -Non-partisan League, and the secretary of that league, Guy Emerson by -name, wrote, in part, as follows to Colonel Roosevelt: - -“Dear Colonel Roosevelt:--The Roosevelt Non-partisan League is a -movement inaugurated by citizens of all parties who believe that -Americanism is the great issue before the country today, and that you -are the strongest available man as leader under that issue. You stated -the platform in your Chicago speech, which, in our opinion, is vital -for the safety of the country during the four momentous years which lie -ahead.” - -In answer to the above letter, my brother wrote: - -“Because of your attitude, I earnestly approve your work. The safety of -this country depends upon our immediate, serious, and vigorous efforts -to square our words with our deeds, and to secure our own national -rehabilitation. The slumbering patriotism of our people must be waked -and translated into concrete and efficient action. The awakening must -be to a sense of national and international duty and responsibility.” -After going into greater length as to his personal principles and -opinions, Mr. Roosevelt continues: “Our citizens must act as Americans, -not as Americans with a prefix and qualifications.... Cowardice in a -race, as in an individual, is the unpardonable sin. The timid man who -cannot fight, and the selfish, short-sighted or foolish man who will -not take the steps that will enable him to fight, stand on almost the -same plane. Preparedness deters the foe and maintains right by the show -of ready might without the use of violence. Peace, like Freedom, is -not a gift that tarries long in the hands of cowards, or of those too -feeble or too short-sighted to deserve it, and we ask to be given the -means to insure that honorable peace which alone is worth having.” - -In answering from other sources the same suggestion--namely, that he -should take anew the leadership and be himself the nominee against -President Wilson--he boldly replied that he doubted if it would be wise -to name him, for if he should be named, his followers would have to be -in a “heroic mood.” - -On May 31 he announced: “I speak for universal service based on -universal training. Universal training and universal service represent -the only service and training a democracy should accept.... Performance -of international duty to others means that in international affairs, in -the commonwealth of nations, we shall not only refrain from wronging -the weak, but, according to our capacity and as opportunity offers, we -should stand up for the weak when the weak are wronged by the strong.” - -Every speech by Colonel Roosevelt had again become the subject of -national discussion, and as the Democratic policy began to shape -itself, each position taken by the Republican party, as well as by the -Progressive party, followed the lines laid down in some speech made by -Colonel Roosevelt. By this time he had fully come to realize that, if -it were possible to defeat the policies which, from his standpoint, -were lulling the country into ignoble avoidance of its national and -international duty, such defeat could only be brought about by the -amalgamation of the Progressive and Republican parties, a result -extremely difficult to accomplish. - -On April 14 he said: “_The Tribune_ says of the approaching convention, -‘We are choosing which way the country shall go in the era that is -now opening, just as our fathers chose the nation’s path in the days -of 1860.’ This sentence should be in the mind of every man who at -Chicago next June takes part in formulating the platform and naming -the candidate. The men at Chicago should act in the spirit of the men -who stood behind Abraham Lincoln.... There is one great issue on which -the fight is to be made if the highest service is to be rendered the -American people. That issue is that the American people must find its -own soul. National honor is a spiritual thing that cannot be haggled -over in terms of dollars. [He refers to the issue of the tariff -which had been prominently brought forward.] We must stand not only -for America First but for America first, last, and all the time and -without any second.... We can be true to mankind at large only if we -are true to ourselves. If we are false to ourselves, we shall be false -to everything else. We have a lofty ideal to serve and a great mission -to accomplish for the cause of Freedom and genuine democracy, and of -justice and fair dealing throughout the world. If we are weak and -slothful and absorbed in mere money getting or vapid excitement, we can -neither serve these causes nor any others. We must stand for national -issues, for national discipline and for preparedness--military, social -and industrial--in order to keep the soul of this nation. We stand -for Peace, but only for the Peace that comes as a right to the just -man armed, and not for the Peace which the coward purchases by abject -submission to wrong. The Peace of cowardice leads in the end to war -after a record of shame.” - -Even the Democratic newspaper, the New York _Times_, spoke about that -time of Colonel Roosevelt’s capacity to rouse a true patriotism. It -said: “The passion of his Americanism, his unerring instinct for the -jugular vein, make him, in a good cause, an unrivalled compeller -of men. He has had his fill of glories, his name is blown about -the world;--by preparing America against war, to unite America in -patriotism, there are no nobler laurels.” And almost coincident with -this unexpected appreciation of a newspaper frequently the enemy of -Colonel Roosevelt came a letter from his former attorney-general, -William H. Moody, written to their mutual friend Mr. Washburn, the -author of the book which I have already mentioned. In the heat of the -controversy which was once more beginning to rage around the figure -of Theodore Roosevelt, it was interesting to read the calm and quiet -words penned by the able man who had served as attorney-general in my -brother’s cabinet, but, alas, laid low by the painful illness which -later proved the cause of his premature death. “For five years,” writes -Mr. Moody, “I was in almost daily association with him in the details -of work for a common purpose and in his relation to all sorts and -conditions of men. There are some parts of his work as President which -I think no one knew better than I did, and there are results of it -which ought to receive thorough study and be brought clearly to light. -I have here specially in mind, the effect of his acts and preachments -upon economic thought, and the development of the constitutional theory -of our government. If one contrasts the state of opinion as to the -proper relation between capital and labor, and the proper attitude of -government toward both as that opinion existed just before the war -with Spain, and as it exists today, one cannot fail to see that there -has been an extraordinary change. In this change, I believe he was the -one great leader in this country.... What was needed was a man with a -great genius for leadership, great courage, great intelligence, and -the highest purpose. That man came in Theodore Roosevelt. Perhaps, -many would scout the idea that he had been a guide in constitutional -interpretation. I remember the state of legal thought and the attitude -of the Supreme Court in the nineties toward what we called the new -internationalism. I believe no one appreciates more clearly than I -the great change that has come to both since then. By the legislation -which he, Theodore Roosevelt, promoted against great odds, there have -been drawn from the Supreme Court decisions which have declared that -nationalism which is necessary to our future national life.” - -This deliberate decision on the part of a man essentially legal in -mind throws interesting light upon my brother’s actions and attitudes, -assailed as he was at the time for lack of the very devotion to the -Constitution for which Mr. Moody praises him. About the same time, from -Kansas City, on May 30, 1916, my brother writes to me: “I hope you will -like the speech I am about to make here. I have scrupulously employed -the ‘we’ in describing our governmental short-comings!” - -Unless I am mistaken, it was about that time that my brother made a -speech in Arkansas which--while the quotation which I am about to give -has little to do with the issue of the moment--is so characteristic of -his own fearlessness that I cannot pass it over. - -The strongest theory which I have evolved from the study of the ups -and downs of political life consists in the belief that of all factors -in permanent success (and permanent success means a place in history), -there is none so important as that of moral as well as physical -courage. More men have lost their heart’s desire because at the most -crucial moment they lacked the courage to barter that very desire for -an honest conviction than from any other cause. Theodore Roosevelt -believed that he could help not only his country but the countries of -the world were he nominated and elected in 1916, just as he firmly -believed that should Mr. Wilson be renominated and re-elected to that -position, America and the countries of the world would be worse off -rather than better off, and yet, no matter before what audience he -spoke, were it East, West, North, or South, he spoke with the ardor -of conviction, never for one moment withholding one belief, no matter -how unpalatable it might be to the section of the country to which he -was giving his message, did he feel that that belief should be clearly -demonstrated to that portion of the people. - -At Little Rock, Ark., the Governor of the State (I was told of this -incident by a Methodist minister who was present on the occasion), -during a speech in which he introduced Colonel Roosevelt to his -stupendous audience, said: “We have an unwritten law in the Southland -that when a vile black wretch commits the unmentionable crime, we -hang him without judge or jury.” As Theodore Roosevelt rose to make -his address, he turned to the governor and said: “Before I make my -address to the people, Governor, I want to say to you that when any man -or set of men take the law into their own hands, and inflict summary -punishment on the ‘vile black wretch’ of whom you speak they place -themselves upon the same base level as that same ‘vile black wretch.’” -The stunned audience, silent for a moment, burst into vociferous -applause. But the governor made no response to Colonel Roosevelt’s -interpellation. - -It was about this same time that in response to a letter from Mr. Guy -Emerson, Mr. Thomas A. Edison wrote of Colonel Roosevelt as follows: -“My dear Sir:--Answering your question as to my views of Colonel -Roosevelt for our next President, I would say that I believe he is -absolutely the only man that should be considered at this crucial -period. He has more real statesmanship, a better grasp of the most -important needs of this country and greater executive ability to handle -the big, international problems that will arise at the close of the -war than all the other proposed candidates put together. His energy, -capacity, and vast experience in large affairs of state and nation -for many years, together with his great patriotism, and his intense -Americanism, and his great knowledge in all lines of human endeavor, -make him decidedly the most striking figure in American life.” - -Mr. Edison voiced the sentiment of hundreds of thousands of his fellow -citizens, and as the time approached for the Republican Convention -of 1916, feelings of all kinds waxed almost as hot as in those -thrilling days of 1912. In fact, in many ways, there was even a greater -excitement in the hearts of the more valiant Americans, who believed -that the time was already ripe to make the world safe for democracy. -These more valiant Americans also believed that the man most fitted to -aid in making the world thus safe was Theodore Roosevelt. On the other -hand, the stand-pat Republicans were still smarting from what they -considered, I think unjustly, his betrayal of them, and they were not -ready to enroll themselves under his banner. The Progressives, on the -other hand, were equally opposed to any compromise, and when the great -convention met in Chicago, peace between the contending factions seemed -an illusive and unattainable ideal, and so it proved. Those were days -of tragic excitement in the great auditorium, where sat, tied hand and -foot, what seemed to be a mercenary army, so little did true patriotism -appear to actuate the delegates to that important congregation of -individuals. On the other hand, near by, in a smaller hall, the almost -fanatic enthusiasm for the much higher ideal was also to make itself -a party to the defeat of its own object, although at that moment of -honest and high-minded enthusiasm it could hardly be blamed for any -attitude born of that enthusiasm. - -Again the battle raged, and again the personality of Theodore Roosevelt -became the deciding factor. Conferees were chosen by both the -Republican Convention and the Progressive Convention, but they could -not find a common ground upon which to agree, and that fateful week -in early June ended with the nomination of Charles E. Hughes by the -Republican Convention, and, against his wish, with the nomination of -my brother on the Progressive ticket. Perhaps there was never a more -dramatic moment, a moment of more heartfelt disappointment, than when -the convention of the Progressive party received the statement brought -to it by John McGrath, secretary of Colonel Roosevelt, which ran as -follows (I quote from a contemporary newspaper in Chicago): - -“Announcement was made here this afternoon at 4:50 o’clock that -Roosevelt has refused to accept the Progressive nomination for -President. - -“Colonel Roosevelt’s statement was brought to the convention by John -McGrath, his secretary. It follows: - -“‘To the Progressive Convention: I am very grateful for the honor -you confer upon me by nominating me as President. I cannot accept -it at this time. I do not know the attitude of the candidate of the -Republican party toward the vital questions of the day. Therefore, if -you desire an immediate decision, I must decline the nomination. But if -you prefer it, I suggest that my conditional refusal to run be placed -in the hands of the Progressive National Committee. - -“‘If Mr. Hughes’ statements, when he makes them, shall satisfy the -committee that it is for the interest of the country that he be -elected, they can act accordingly and treat my refusal as definitely -accepted. If they are not satisfied they can so notify the Progressive -party, and at the same time, they can confer with me and then determine -on whatever action we may severally deem appropriate to meet the needs -of the country.’ - -“‘I move,’ said James R. Garfield, ‘that the letter of Colonel -Roosevelt be received in the spirit in which it is meant, and that it -be referred to the National Committee, with power to act thereon.’ - -“The motion was carried, and at 5 P. M. the Progressive Convention, the -liveliest in the history of politics, came to an end with the playing -of the national air.” - -The closing scenes of the Republican Convention were as cold and -as unemotional as was the reverse in the body sitting in the other -hall, so close at hand. I, myself, went from one spot to the other, -torn with conflicting emotions. In the Republican Convention there -had been no enthusiasm whatsoever for any candidate up to the moment -when Senator Fall, of New Mexico, put the name of Theodore Roosevelt -in nomination. Then, and then only, did the thousands of people in -that great auditorium rise to their feet with one prolonged shout -of approval. The delegates--and, alas! it is the delegates to a -convention, not the people, who apparently choose the men who are to -govern the people--were cold and unresponsive no matter what name was -put before them, and, were it possible, they were even colder, even -more unresponsive, when Theodore Roosevelt’s name was mentioned than -they were at any other time; but the masses--they were neither cold -nor unresponsive! How they cheered as that beloved name was heard for -the first time in that Republican Convention! Over and over again the -chairman tried to bring the convention to order. No blaring bands, -no stimulated marchings, were the cause of the great ovation. It was -actually and vividly the cry of those who wanted a leader and wanted -_their_ leader that was heard in that great hall, but there was no echo -in the hearts of those who held the balance of power in their hands. -That evening there was printed in one of the Chicago newspapers so -exquisite a rhapsody, so loving a swan song, that I can but reproduce -it. - - AH! TEDDY DEAR - - Ah, Teddy dear, and did ye hear the news that’s goin’ round? - - They say you’re gone from off the stage, that strange cold men, - whom we respect but love not, must be our meat for all the campaign - days to come. - - Gray is the prospect; dull is the outlook. - - We felt all the while that over in the Auditorium and the Coliseum - they were breaking to us the news of a death in the family. They - were merciful; they held it back; they did not let us have the - shock of it all at once. They meant kindly. - - But now that the news has come the kindness of friends can help but - little. Our hearts are broke! We need you and we want you every - minute. - - Ah the fun of you and the glory of you! - - Where lies the American whose passion or whose imagination you have - not set a-tingling? Who else has meant the savor of life for us? - Who but you has taken us and set our feet upon the high places? - - Before you came, all in politics was set and regular. Those who - were ordained to rule over us did so with that gravity with which - stupid grown-ups so oft repress the child. No one ever talked to - us as you did. They called us “voters” or “constituents” or such - big names as these. They never took us by the hand and laughed and - played with us as you did. - - They never understood us. They could preach Sunday school and - arithmetic. But the good Lord never gave it to them to speak to the - heart. - - And then you came! - - Dancing down the road you came with life and love and courage and - fun stickin’ out all over you. How we loved you at the first sight! - And how you loved us! - - Friends we were, tho’ you were in the White House and we were - making mud pies. Friends we were together with nothing to come - between us. - - Your love would let no harm come near us and we knew it. With your - courage you fought for us. With your life and your fun you took us - out of the drab grind. - - You told us of the birds in the air and of the fishes in the - sea. The great tales of the old heroes, the sagas of the - past, you spread before our ’stonished eyes. You gave us new - words--delightful words--to play with; and jokes--delightful - jokes--to make us laugh. - - How we wanted you back when you went away! But they stole our right - from us and they wouldn’t let you come back. So we followed you. - Four million of us, in a fight the like of which we never knew. - Joy and religion were in it in equal measure. Hymns and cleanness - and color and battle all were jumbled in it. The good of it is set - forever into the life of the nation. - - But the schoolmaster beat you, and the Great War came to crowd you - from our thoughts. We thought only of ourselves because you were no - longer there to make us think of our country. At last we turned to - you--when it was too late. - - So now we are not to have you. We must go stumbling on alone, - hoping that the man they’ve given us may show something of that - fire and strength upon which you taught us to rely. - - It’s our fault, not theirs. It’s our fault, not yours. You warned - us that we must be ready to go thru to the end. We weren’t. Fear - had come upon us, fear of ourselves. We were split up. We eyed each - other with distrust. The spirit of your old sagas had gone from us. - - Now we must face it alone, unless you help us. Do not forsake us to - sulk in your tent. Make the sacrifice they demand, not for their - sake but for ours. Help them win with the cold, good man they’ve - chosen. Help that man to hold his courage and fight worthily for - the things which you have taught us--tho the real right to fight - for them was yours, not his. Don’t let our councils be divided. - Don’t let hotheaded friends force their personal claims upon you. - - But whatever you do or whatever you don’t do, be sure of one - thing--we shall never hold it against you. For all that is gone, - you can do no wrong in our sight. The memory of you shall never - fade from our hearts. - - Ah, Teddy dear--we love you now and always.[B] - - [B] From the Chicago _Evening Post_, June, 1916. The - article was written by Julian Mason, the gifted son of one - who had been a hospitable host of Theodore Roosevelt when, - as a young man, he wrote “The Winning of the West.” - - - - -XVI - -“DO IT NOW” - - Sad America - Dreamed in the distance as a charmed thing - Till Roosevelt, like Roland, blew his horn. - - --John Jay Chapman. - - One who rang true when traitor thoughts were rife, - One who led straight through all the years of strife. - - --From _Horace Mann School Record_. - - -I went to Sagamore Hill the very moment that I returned from Chicago -after that exciting convention. In fact, I took the first train -possible to Oyster Bay. My heart was aflame, for it seemed to me then, -as it has seemed to me frequently in such contests (nor does this refer -solely to contests in which my brother took part), that the will of the -people had been frustrated. - -My brother was seated in the library when I arrived at Sagamore Hill, -and when I burst out, “Theodore--the people wanted you. It seems -terrible to me that they could not have you,” he answered, with a smile -that had a subtle meaning in it: “Do not say that; if they had wanted -me _hard_ enough, they could have had me.” By which he meant that after -all, if enough citizens in our great country would take seriously the -duties of citizenship, the delegates to our conventions would have to -do their will. From that moment, putting himself entirely aside, his -whole thought, his whole effort were given to the achievement of what -he considered the vital need for his country; namely, the election -of the Republican candidate. Waiting until Mr. Hughes had definitely -stated his policy, Colonel Roosevelt, upon that statement, immediately -sent to the Progressive Convention, which met within a few weeks, a -letter stating his position as follows: - -“_Gentlemen_: In accordance with the message I sent to the National -Progressive Convention as soon as I had received the notification -that it had nominated me for President, I now communicate to you my -reasons for declining the honor which I so deeply appreciate.... Before -speaking of anything else, I wish to express my heartiest and most -unstinted admiration for the character and services of the men and -women who made up the National Progressive Convention in 1916.... They -represent the spirit which moved Abraham Lincoln and his political -associates during the decade preceding the close of the Civil War. The -platform put forth in 1912 was much the most important public document -promulgated in this country since the death of Abraham Lincoln. It -represented the first effort, on a large scale, to translate abstract -formulas of economic and social justice into concrete American -nationalism.... - -“Events have shown us that the Progressive party in 1912 offered the -only alternative to the triumph of the Democratic party.... The results -of the terrible world war of the past two years have now made it -evident to all who are willing to see, that in this country there must -be spiritual and industrial preparedness, along the lines of efficient -and loyal service to the nation, and of practical application of the -precept that ‘each man must be his brother’s keeper.’ Furthermore, it -is no less evident that this preparedness for the days of peace forms -the only sound basis for that indispensable military preparedness based -on military universal training, and which finds expression in universal -obligatory service in time of war. Such universal obligatory training -and service are necessary complements of universal suffrage and -represent the realization of the true American, the democratic ideal -in both peace and war. - -“Sooner or later, the national principles championed by the -Progressives of 1912 must, in their general effect, be embodied in -the structure of our national existence. With all my heart, I shall -continue to work for these great ideals, shoulder to shoulder with the -men and women, who, in 1912, championed them.... The method however -by which we are to show our loyalty must be determined in each case -by the actual event. Our loyalty is to the fact, to the principle, -to the ideal, and not merely to the name, and least of all, to the -party name. The Progressive movement has been given an incalculable -impetus by what the Progressive party has done. Our strongest party -organizations have accepted and enacted into law, or embodied in their -party platforms many of our most important principles. Yet it has -become entirely evident that the people under existing conditions are -not prepared to accept a new party.... Under such circumstances, our -duty is to do the best we can and not to sulk because our leadership is -rejected.--It is unpatriotic to refuse to do the best possible, merely -because the people have not put us in a position to do what we regard -as the very best.... In my judgment, the nomination of Mr. Hughes meets -the conditions set forth in the statement of the Progressive National -Committee, issued last January and in my own statements. Under existing -conditions, the nomination of a third ticket would, in my judgment, be -merely a move in the interest of the election of Mr. Wilson. I regard -Mr. Hughes as a man whose public record is a guarantee that he will not -merely stand for a program of clean-cut, straight principles before -election but will resolutely and in good faith put them through if -elected. It would be a grave detriment to the country to re-elect Mr. -Wilson. I shall, therefore, strongly support Mr. Hughes. Such being the -case, it is unnecessary to say that I cannot accept the nomination on -a third ticket. I do not believe that there should be a third ticket. -I believe that when my fellow Progressives actually consider the -question, they will, for the most part, take this position. - -“They and I have but one purpose,--the purpose to serve our common -country. It is my deep conviction that at this moment we can serve it -only by supporting Mr. Hughes.” - -From that moment, “squaring,” as he always did, “conviction with -action,” Theodore Roosevelt set his strong shoulder to the political -wheel which he hoped with all his heart would put Charles E. Hughes -into the White House. - -In my brother’s own “Autobiography” he says: “I have always had a -horror of words that are not translated into deeds, of speech that does -not result in action; in other words, I believe in realizable ideals -and in realizing them; in preaching what would be practicable and then -practising it.” - -He put the same idea in somewhat different words in a speech in that -very campaign of 1916: “Of course, the vital thing for the nation to -remember is that while dreaming and talking both have their uses, -these uses must chiefly exist in seeing the dream realized and the -talking turned into action.... Ideals that are so lofty as always to be -unrealizable have a place,--sometimes an exceedingly important place -in the history of mankind--_if_ the attempt, at least partially to -realize them is made; but, in the long run, what most helps forward the -common run of humanity in this work-a-day world, is the possession of -realizable ideals and the sincere attempt to realize them.” - -Never did my brother more earnestly fulfil the convictions expressed in -the above sentence than in his campaign for the election of Mr. Hughes. -Never did he give himself more selflessly, and with more tireless zeal, -than when he tried to put one so lately a rival for the presidential -nomination into the White House, because of his strong belief that to -do so would be for the good of his beloved country. - -On June 23, just before the meeting of the Progressive Convention, he -writes to me: “I should like to show you my letter to the National -Committee which will appear on Monday afternoon. I will then, I trust, -finish my active connections with Politics.” And again, in another -letter on July 21, he says: “For six years I have been, I believe, -emphatically right, emphatically the servant of the best interests of -the American people; but just as emphatically,--the American people -have steadily grown to think less and less of me, and more definitely -determined not to use me in any public position, and it is their -affair after all. Your Teddy [my son at the time was running for the -nomination for New York State Senator] may experience the same fate and -may find that through no fault of his,--in my case the fault may have -been mine,--his talents may be passed by.” - -It is interesting to note that although so frequently a justified -prophet in national affairs, my brother’s prophecies concerning himself -rarely came true. The above prophecy was no exception to this rule, -for during the years to come, the Republican party was to turn once -more to Theodore Roosevelt as its greatest leader, and to pledge its -support to him both inferentially and actually in their great effort to -make him the nominee for governor of New York State. In the campaign of -1918 the leaders of the Republican party turned to him as almost one -man, feeling as they did that his election again to that position would -positively secure him the election to the presidency in 1920. - -Perhaps the hardest thing for him to bear connected with the political -situation in 1916 was the keen disappointment of those Progressives -for whom he had such devoted affection when he refused to run on the -Progressive ticket as the candidate for President. He felt that in the -hearts of many there was, in spite of their personal devotion to him, a -sense of disillusion, and he tried with earnest effort to make them see -the point of view which he was convinced was the right point of view, -which made him support the candidate of the Republican party. - -A Mrs. Nicholson, of Oregon, for whom he had a sincere regard, having -written to him on the subject, he answers on July 18, 1916: - -“My dear Mrs. Nicholson: ... You say you do not understand ‘Why we men -make such a fetich of parties.’ I cannot understand how you include me -with the men who do so. Four years ago I declined to make a fetich of -the Republican party, when to do so meant dishonor to the nation, and -this year I declined to make a fetich of the Progressive party when to -do so meant dishonor to honor. I agree with you that issues and men -are the things that count. A party is good only as a means to an end. -Nevertheless, we have to face the fact that has been made strikingly -evident during the past four years that with ninety per cent of our -country-men the party name of itself has a certain fetichistic power, -and we would be very foolish if we did not take this into account in -endeavoring to work for good results. Moreover, it is unfortunately -true that the dead hand of a party sometimes paralyzes its living -members. The ancestral principles of the Democratic party are so bad -it seems to be entirely impossible for it to be useful to the country -except in spasms. - -“I believe Mr. Hughes to be honest and to have the good of his country -at heart.” - -He was not able to visit us in our country home on the Mohawk Hills, as -we had hoped he might possibly do, during that summer, but on October -5 he writes to me: “I fear I shall be West on the 25th, otherwise I -should jump at the chance to lunch with you and Fanny at the Colony -Club. Can I accept for the first subsequent day when I find that you -and she are available? I am now being worked to the limit by the Hughes -people who are the very people who four months ago were explaining -that I had ‘no strength.’... I most earnestly desire to win; I, above -all things, do not wish to sulk, and therefore, from now on my time is -to be at the disposal of the National Committee. Of course, Teddy’s -nomination meant far more to me personally than anything else in -this campaign. I look forward eagerly to seeing you. Do look at my -_Metropolitan Magazine_ article which is just out. I think you will -like the literary style!” The “literary style” was combined with a -certain amount of plain talk in this particular instance! - -On October 12 Colonel Roosevelt, taking the exploits of the German -submarine U-boat 53 off the shores of America as a text, launched an -urgent protest. Colonel Roosevelt declared that the conduct of the war -had led to a “complete breakdown of the code of international rights.” -The man who as long ago as in his inauguration speech in March, 1905, -inveighed against the “peace of the coward,” was stirred to red-blooded -indignation at the Democratic slogan of that campaign of 1916, which -laid all the stress on “He kept us out of war,” a sentence which -Colonel Roosevelt described as “utterly misleading.” - -He said: - -“Now that the war has been carried to our very shores, there is not an -American who does not realize the awful tragedy of our indifference and -our inaction. Nine-tenths of wisdom is being wise in time. By taking -the right step at the right time, America’s influence and leadership -might have been made a stabilizing force. - -“In actual reality, war has been creeping nearer and nearer until it -stares at us from just beyond our three-mile limit, and we face it -without policy, plan, purpose, or preparation. No sane man can to-day -be so blind as to believe President Wilson’s original statement that -the war was no concern of ours. Every thinking man must realize the -utter futility of a statesmanship without plan or policy until such -facts as these now stare us in the face.” - -Such were the virile statements used many times during the following -campaign. One of the most interesting human documents connected with -Theodore Roosevelt during this period was written by a young reporter, -Edwin N. Lewis, in private letters to his own family, from the special -train upon which Theodore Roosevelt travelled for one of the most -active ten days of his active life, during which he urged the American -people to accept the Republican candidate. With Mr. Lewis’s permission, -I am quoting from these interesting letters, written by the kind of -young American for whom my brother had the warmest and most friendly -feeling, the kind of young American whose family life had been such -that he wished to share with his family whatever was of interest in his -life. - -The first letter, dated October 17, 1916, begins: - -“Just getting into Rochester--7 P. M.--Dear Ma:--The big tour is on. I -was presented to Colonel Roosevelt by his secretary before the train -pulled out. Since there are only three correspondents in the party, he -insists that we eat in his private car with him. The trip is going to -be a little family party with the Colonel a sort of jovial master of -ceremonies. He permits me, a stranger, to take part in the conversation -with the group. In fact, I feel, now, after my experiences at luncheon, -that I have known him a long while. He is just as remarkable, -energetic, mentally alert and forcible as his chroniclers picture -him. I could entertain you and pa for an evening with the stories he -told this noon, and dinner is coming in a half hour! Wonderful meals -too,--with the New York Central chefs straining every effort to give -Theodore Roosevelt something fine to eat. Cronin of _The Sun_ and Yoder -of the United Press are the only other newspaper men along.... Tomorrow -we face a busy day. From Cincinnati, we turn down through a mountain -section of Kentucky which has never seen a President, an ex-President -or a Presidential candidate. Mountaineers will drive from miles around -to see the man they have worshipped for years. The Colonel makes -thirteen stops between Falmouth and Louisville. I realize how you are -thinking of me on this trip. It helps me to make good.” - -Leaving Louisville, Ky., October 18, 11 P. M.: - -“This has been a long day with hundreds of miles travelled by our -special train through the valleys of Kentucky in a steady run. I -wrote about 2000 words but do not imagine that all of it will get -in the first edition which you will see in New England. Tonight, -“T. R.” pulled one of his familiar stunts with his changing the whole -introduction to his speech at one-half hour’s notice. He spoke for half -an hour on the Adamson law and what he would have done to prevent the -threatened railroad strikes. I had to shoot in 500 words additional -just as we pulled out. It was written in long hand while the Colonel -delivered the tail end of his talk. Louisville went wild over him. As -we climbed down in the mud and rain, red fire burned, rockets glared -in the mist, and the factory whistles screeched their welcome. As the -New York correspondents travelling with the Colonel, we are members -of his personal body-guard. You can imagine how seriously we take the -job, when you remember that Mr. Roosevelt was shot and severely wounded -when speaking at Milwaukee a few years ago; a man of such intense -affections and such stirring convictions always has venomous enemies. -For this reason, when we take the Colonel through a crowd as we did -tonight, we completely surround him and use our elbows and fists if -need be to protect him. If any harm should come to him, we would all -be crushed. Tonight, however, he was only liable to be hurt by the -overwhelming love of Louisville citizens.... Our relations with him -could not be more cordial and democratic. This noon Colonel Roosevelt -was terribly excited because Cronin and I did not get luncheon with -him owing to the prevalence of Kentucky politicians who swarmed on the -train like rats caught in a flood. He swore that he would eat nothing -tonight until we had been fed. Tonight at 7 P. M. the porter came into -my compartment and announced that Mr. Roosevelt was waiting dinner for -Mr. Lewis and Mr. Cronin. He still apologized although we protested -that the chef had filled our most prominent cavity successfully with -sandwiches and coffee at 3 P. M. This gives you just one little glimpse -of this remarkable man. I could write all night along this line. Mind -you, he is taking all these precautions not for old friends but for two -newspaper men whom he has never seen before and whose articles he has -never read. - -“Tonight as he left the hall, I jumped around to his right side, -grabbed him by the arm and offered to act as a bumper against his -admirers who fought like bears to shake his hand. He still remains -the great idol of the American people. He smiled at me, drew his arm -through mine and we swayed, pushed, and shoved our way out. - -“The Colonel is a little older than he used to be. I think he will be -fifty-eight the day we return to New York. At times, in the thick of -the excitement, an expression of fatigue flashes across his features. -There is a touch of sadness too, I believe, in his face, as he looks -out over these crowds of people who have come for miles just to see -him. He is not a candidate for President, thanks to the Chicago -Convention,--but in spite of all these things which would discourage -an ordinary man, he is travelling four thousand miles to win the -election.... If the Colonel likes a person, he loves them with gigantic -affection. His favorite character in literature is Great Heart from -‘Pilgrim’s Progress.’ - -“We fought our way into the hall tonight after passing through miles of -streets lined with black and white people, standing patiently in the -rain just to see the Colonel go by. We had a difficult time getting -him out by the rear entrance for the larger crowd which could not get -inside insisted on a brief speech from a bandstand outside. Then, we -hustled back through the rain to the railroad station, climbed on the -train and now we are approaching the Indiana border en route to Arizona -through Missouri and Kansas. We are to take our meals with the Colonel -three times a day. He promises that this rule will be lived up to. He -relies on us to read the daily newspapers, giving him material. He -never reads the papers as near as I can make out. We look forward to -these next days with great pleasure. We are to tour the plains and run -almost to the rim of the Grand Canyon. The Colonel expects to present -us to some of the old horse thieves and other respectable men with whom -he associated in his cow-punching days!” - -October 21, 1916, near Phœnix: - -“The trip has been a wonderful experience for me in every way. Think of -chatting with the Colonel three times a day at meals,--Mr. Roosevelt -personally explaining the significance of every adobe, cactus, pinyon -tree, or prairie dog! When we go by a piece of desert, scorching in -the white heat of sun-baked alcali, T. R. recalls an experience thirty -years ago, when he lost some cattle that had sunk in quicksand in a -dry river channel. He has taken us into his absolute confidence. He -tells us stories and gives us opinions which if put on the telegraph -would convulse the country. We are all convinced that not only is he -the greatest American citizen, but also the greatest American humorist. -His sense of humor is as marvelous as his physical and mental energy. -To show you how thoughtful the Colonel is, ... listen to this:--two of -his friends climbed aboard at Prescott early this morning when I was -shaving. That made two extra for breakfast, so Cronin and I insisted -upon waiting for a second table. As we munched our toast and looked out -at the giant cacti swiftly flowing by our window, who should come back -to the table but T. R. ‘Are you boys getting enough to eat?’ he asked, -sitting down. ‘I am so sorry that this inconvenience occurred. If my -visitors had not been old friends who had not breakfasted, I should -never have permitted it.’ How can a fellow help admiring a fellow like -that, especially when he is an ex-President and one of the most famous -characters in the world today?” - -October 24, near Albuquerque: - -“... It was nearly 100 sitting in the afternoon sun in front of -the speaking stand today. My cloth touring hat was too hot for the -occasion, but without it I imagine I would have keeled over from -prostration or gradually melted away under the press-stand. When the -Colonel got through, his face was dripping. He delivered a corking -talk. There was no heckling because he had been tipped off to answer -at the beginning, the question as to what he would have done in -Mexico had he been President. After he got into his proper speech, and -he read every word of it, there were no interruptions except cheers -of approval. My confidential opinion is, however, that he realizes -that while these western crowds are for him personally, and cheer -whenever he shows his familiar face, they do not understand,--they are -not in down-right serious accord with, the doctrine he preaches. The -Republicans are up against a hopeless situation.... The Roosevelt plan -for compulsory military service, and preparedness are not practical -_this year_ because they have not wide-spread public support. The -crowds come to hear _Roosevelt_.... The crowds in this country are -too busy making money and planning how to make that money make some -more, to realize the deep-rooted appeal of Theodore Roosevelt to their -Americanism. Perhaps, through this hasty review of my impressions in -Arizona, you dear folks at home can enter into this opportunity with -me. I will have an interesting yarn to spin when I return to vote.” - -October 25, leaving Denver for Chicago: - -“We are swinging down from the lofty Denver plateau surrounded with -white-topped mountain peaks, through the sugar-beet and cattle -farms to Nebraska. We shall wake up in Chicago tomorrow morning -on the last leg of our tour. Colonel Roosevelt makes two or three -speeches in Chicago and then pulls out for New York. Everything was -rush-rush-rush in Denver.... We came by Colorado Springs and Pike’s -Peak at night but were all up, dressed and shaved when the enthusiastic -Denverites descended on the Colonel with bands, bombs, bandannas, and -general noise. Here was an old-fashioned, wild demonstration for the -ex-President. He had not been in Denver for nearly six years. At one -big meeting of 8000 women he showed them the fallacy of Mr. Wilson’s -argument, ‘I have kept you out of war.’ He told them why he was for -suffrage. He had them with him from the start. All of this stuff was -extemporaneous and I had to write 1000 words on it. The night meeting -was a near-riot. We had a stiff fight to get the Colonel out of the -auditorium which is one of the largest halls in the country. They have -an excellent arrangement for getting the speakers in--wide doors open -like a circus and the automobile with the Colonel and ourselves was -driven close to the speaker’s platform. Such a bedlam of noise I never -heard. On the platform were the women speakers from the women’s special -train. When they tried to speak, however, the crowd hooted them down -with cries of ‘We want Teddy--Give us Teddy and Sit down,’ etc. Then -as soon as he began to speak, the Wilson hecklers started shouting, -‘Hurrah for Wilson’--it was all very exciting.... ‘Let me shake hands -with the greatest President since Lincoln,’ one old chap bawled, while -I kept my fist under his chin as we formed a ring around the Colonel, -and half-shoved and half-carried him to his automobile. The Colonel -reached his hand around back of his neck and grasped the old man’s -finger-tips, whereupon he subsided and fell back to tell his children -that this had been the greatest moment in his life. - -“There is no antagonism to the Colonel out here. Even the Wilson -supporters love Roosevelt. We have to protect him against his friends, -however.... There is a chap on the train now, an old friend of the -Colonel who has been collecting pictures along the Mexican border. Some -of the atrocities, particularly the burning of bodies and the execution -of soldiers are the most gruesome sights I have ever seen. The Colonel -mentions them when he ridicules the cry that ‘Wilson has kept peace in -Mexico.’ He told me today that some day next week he will entertain -the four of us fellows at Oyster Bay at luncheon in his home. He wants -to show us the trophies room, filled with relics from his African -explorations and his early western life. That will be a compliment to -us as newspaper men on this trip.” - -Friday, October 27, Pullman private car leaving Buffalo. - -“We have just turned our watches ahead an hour, making it 10:15, and -signifying that we are back in the home zone of eastern time. The -trip is almost over. The rush and hustle of the trip, and the speed -with which we have had to write and file our stories, make it seem a -moving picture hodge-podge, now that it is over. Take yesterday, for -instance,--we pulled into Chicago at 2 P. M. and were greeted by one -of the wildest street demonstrations I have ever seen. The Colonel -never sat down in his seat from the time he left the station until we -arrived at the Congress Hotel. He was up waving his wide-brimmed black -hat and bowing to the cheering mob. Every minute there was a flash, -‘some miscreant photographer,’ as T. R. calls them, had taken a bang -at the Colonel. We had less than an hour to check our baggage in our -rooms, wash up, arrange with the Western Union for filing stories, and -get ready to accompany the Colonel to the Auditorium Theatre across the -street. - -“Thanks to the excellent police arrangements, we were able to walk -unmolested through a human line of admirers who had been pushed into -place by the mounted police. At 8 P. M. we called to interview the -Colonel just before he left for the stock-yards. After the Women’s -meeting Cronin and I had to run for the Western Union to get a start on -our story. We taxicabbed back to the Congress Hotel, omitted dinner, -and joined the Roosevelt auto procession to the stock-yards pavilion -which is six miles out of Chicago. How those cars did shoot through the -wide Chicago streets, preceded by a motor squad police patrol with the -mufflers on the machines wide open. It seemed more like going to a fire -than riding to a political meeting. - -“In the mêlée of getting the Colonel into the hall, I got separated -from the party and found myself confronted with six wooden-headed -Chicago cops who refused to recognize the official ticket of admission, -distributed to members of the Roosevelt party. I got by one of them by -telling him that I had been all the way to Arizona with the Colonel. -‘Well, I’ll be damned’ he ejaculated. ‘If you’ve been in Arizona, -there is no reason in h---- why you can’t get in here.’ After I got -inside, however, there were more difficulties. The cops and ushers -refused to let me up on the platform with the Colonel and the other -correspondents. While I was fighting, pushing, and kicking around -in the crowd, I heard someone shout down from above, ‘We want Mr. -Lewis up here right away. Make way for Mr. Lewis.’ I looked up and -saw that James R. Garfield, son of President Garfield, himself former -Secretary of the Interior, had come to my rescue. Mr. Garfield had been -travelling with us for two days, and with his assistance the rest was -easy. I was almost carried reverently to the platform and placed on a -perfectly good chair where I could see everything. - -“By the way,--Mr. Garfield, next to the Colonel, is the most likeable, -lovable man I met on this trip. He has a face that you like to watch -silently, and contemplate, because you know how fine and corking he -must be. I never heard such a long demonstration as the one which -greeted the Colonel as he stepped out before 18,000 men and women, each -of whom seemed to have a small flag. It began at three minutes before -eight and it stopped at thirty-two minutes past eight. In that long -interim you could hear nothing but one continuous roar of cheering -shouts and stamping feet. There was nothing articulate, no special -cries distinguishable from others, just one blast as though some Titan -engineer had tied down the heavy chain which released the whistle of -100,000 voice power. All efforts to stop it were futile. There was -nothing to do but to let it run down. The band played ‘Gary Owen’ and -the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ and other selections,--T. R. beating time -with a large replica of a ‘Big Stick’ which had been handed to him. -Meanwhile, in this bedlam, Cronin and I were writing new ‘leads’ to our -story on pads in our laps. A Western Union man was sneaking up to the -platform every ten minutes to get copy which was placed on wires on the -pavilion. By writing this way, we got the story into New York before -eleven o’clock, that is, when the meeting was over, by ten o’clock in -Chicago; then there was the rapid shooting ride back to the hotel, a -little grub and bath, and to bed. I _was_ tired. - -“We left Chicago at 6.25 A. M., the Colonel’s car being hitched -behind a regular train on the New York Central. The Colonel is -fifty-eight years old today, as you will know, doubtless, before -this letter reaches New Britain. I discovered the fact in reading -his autobiography. He has been so fine to all of us; he has gone -out of his way to make sure that we were treated like members of -his own family; he has entertained us, as correspondents never were -entertained; because what can excel the most interesting American, if -not the greatest, telling anecdotes by the dozen of one of the most -interesting, democratic, dynamic, forcible careers in American History? -A thought that we ought to give him something to remember us by sprang -simultaneously into the minds of Yoder and myself.... Our suggestions -included a fountain-pen, pocket knife, or silver pencil--something -that he could use. We elected Yoder to scout through the Colonel’s -pocket. He went out on the observation platform and casually asked the -Colonel if he could borrow his knife. ‘Yes--Yoder,’ T. R. said, digging -into his pocket, ‘but I am ashamed of it. The blades are rusty, the -handle is cracked. By George, I must get a new one.’ We decided after -hearing Yoder’s report, that a knife was the thing. A handsome, little, -flat, gold knife was picked out and the presentation came at luncheon -today. Odell, in his solemn way, said that I had found out that he -was born on October 27th. ‘Now, Colonel, you have been telling us of -many desperate characters you met in the Southwest.... We decided, -therefore, that you should have a weapon. We have taken counsel and -have determined to give you a little reminder of our pleasure on this -trip....’ The Colonel took the little box, pulled forth the knife, and -smiling a more than Roosevelt smile, ‘By George, isn’t that fine!’ he -exclaimed. ‘I have never had a good pocket knife in all my life, and -I was going to buy one tomorrow. I shall always cherish this gift,--I -shall always carry it with me,’ whereupon he attached it to the chain -with his Phi Beta Kappa key and his little pencil;--‘and I want to say -that I have enjoyed immensely having you with me, and the trip has -been a pleasure to me mainly because you young men have been such good -company. I am too old at the political game to enjoy making speeches. I -do not like it, but we have had a bully good time on this tour, and we -have met a lot of my old friends,--and now, gentlemen, remember this, -if Mr. Hughes is elected on November 7th, I shall never be seen in -politics again. I am through.’ I felt rather sorry to hear the Colonel -say this. He is so energetic and courageous, so full of the fighting -spirit that we need to tone up the national affairs, that it seems a -pity to contemplate his retirement before he attains 60. Of course, -he will write his views for the benefit of the reading public, but -if he follows his inclination, he will become a quiet figure in the -background, leaving younger men to carry through the ideas he created. -We do not believe that the American people, however, will ever permit -him to retire. Just as sure as Wilson is re-elected, there will be a -demand for Theodore Roosevelt in 1920. He knows it and he is trying -to start the talk now through us to show that it is the last thing on -earth he cares to do. He would, I think, have liked to run _this year_; -he would have liked to grapple with the problems which will arise after -the war is over, but he took his licking at the hands of the old-line -Republicans, and he really wants to see their candidate elected.” - -On my brother’s return from this trip, so graphically described by the -young and able correspondent whose prophecy that America would not let -Theodore Roosevelt retire into obscurity was so soon to come true, he -continued, up to the evening of the election, to hammer his opinions in -strong, virile sentences into the minds of the audiences before whom he -spoke. I was present in the Brooklyn Theatre, where the crowd was so -great that one of the newspapers reported the next day: - -“Say what you will,--there is no other one man in this country that -can draw as large a crowd as Theodore Roosevelt. He is always an -interesting talker as well as an interesting personality. He is not -running for _any_ office this Fall, though to hear some of the other -speakers and to read some of the other newspapers, one might be -pardoned for thinking that he was running for _all_ of them.” - -It was at that great meeting in Brooklyn that he referred to a speech -made a few days before by President Wilson in Cincinnati. In the -Cincinnati speech Mr. Wilson had made the remark “that it would never -be right for America to remain out of _another_ war.” - -Colonel Roosevelt, after ringing the changes on the fact that what -would be necessary in the future was in this case just as necessary in -the present, ended with a stirring exhortation and the emphatic words: -“Do it now, Mr. President.” - -In spite of Colonel Roosevelt’s strong plea that we should take our -stand shoulder to shoulder on the side of the Allies in the great cause -for which they were fighting, it must not be thought for one moment -that Theodore Roosevelt put internationalism above nationalism. All -through the exciting campaign of 1916, he laid the greatest emphasis -upon true Americanism. At Lewiston, Maine, in August, 1916, he said: -“I demand as a matter of right that every citizen voting this year -shall consider the question at issue, from the standpoint of America -and not from the standpoint of any other nation.... The policy of -the United States must be shaped to a view of two conditions only. -First--with a view of the honor and interest of the United States, and -second--with a view to the interest of the world as a whole. It is, -therefore, our high and solemn duty, both to prepare our own strength -so as to guarantee our own safety, and also to treat every foreign -nation in every given crisis as its conduct in that crisis demands.... -Americanism is a matter of the spirit, of the soul, of the mind; not -of birthplace or creed. We care nothing as to where any man was born -or as to the land from which his forefathers came, so long as he is -whole-heartedly and in good faith an American and nothing else.... The -policies of Americanism and preparedness taken together mean applied -patriotism. Our first duty as citizens of the nation is owed to the -United States, but if we are true to our principles, we must also think -of serving the interests of mankind at large. In addition to serving -our own country, we must shape the policy of our country so as to -secure the cause of international right, righteousness, fair play and -humanity. Our first duty is to protect our own rights; our second, to -stand up for the rights of others.” - -The above quotation seems to me to answer indisputably the mistaken -affirmation that “America First” could ever be a selfish slogan. - -On October 24, 1916, a letter had been sent, directed to “The Honorable -Theodore Roosevelt, en route, Denver, Colorado.” This missive was -received on the special train from which young Edwin Lewis had just -written to his family the stirring letters which I have quoted above. -It is an interesting fact that the letter which I am about to give was -signed by men the majority of whom had not followed Theodore Roosevelt -on his great crusade for a more progressive spirit in American -politics. Some of them had agreed with him in 1912, but the majority -had felt it their duty to remain inside of the political party to which -they had given their earlier faith. Now, in the moment of the great -crisis of our nation, these very men turned for leadership to the man -whom they realized was in truth the “noblest Roman of them all.” The -communication ran as follows: - -“It is our conviction that no other Presidential campaign in the -history of the nation ever presented graver issues or more far-reaching -problems than does this. Not only is the domestic welfare of the nation -profoundly to be affected by the result, but the honor and the very -safety of the Republic are at stake.... In this momentous hour, the -vital need is for such a presentation of the issues as will arrest the -widest attention and carry the clearest message to the public mind, and -this task we commend to your hands. No living American has a greater -audience. You have done memorable service to your country in awakening -it to a sense of its perils and obligations and you have revealed -an unselfish patriotism that makes your voice singularly potent in -councils and inspiration. Will you not lend it to the cause once more -by addressing the people of the nation from a vantage ground of a great -mass meeting in the metropolis? Under these circumstances, a message -from Theodore Roosevelt on America’s crisis would ring from coast to -coast.... The undersigned suggest Cooper Union as the place....” - -The signatures included many of the most distinguished citizens of -the various States of America. My brother accepted this call to duty, -although he had hoped to speak but little after his exhausting campaign -in the West. I regret to say that I was not present at that meeting, -at which, from what I have heard, he spoke with a conviction and a -spiritual intensity rare even in him. The speech was called “The Soul -of the Nation.” - -With burning words Theodore Roosevelt tried to arouse the nation’s -soul; with phrases hot from a heart on fire he portrayed the place we -should take by the side of the countries who were fighting for the hope -of the world, but the ears of the people were closed to all but the -words that we had been kept “out of war.” The day of the Lord was not -yet at hand. - - - - -XVII. - -WAR - - Thou gavest to party strife the epic note, - And to debate the thunder of the Lord; - To meanest issues fire of the Most High. - Hence eyes that ne’er beheld thee now are dim, - And alien men on alien shores lament. - - --Stephen Phillips on Gladstone. - - -Election Day, 1916, dawned with the apparent success of the Republican -party at the polls, but it eventually proved that the slogan, “He kept -us out of war,” had had its way, and that the Democrats were returned -to power. - -Needless to say, the disappointment both to the followers of Charles -E. Hughes and of Theodore Roosevelt was keen beyond words. My brother, -however, following his usual philosophy, set himself to work harder -than ever to arouse his countrymen to the true appreciation of the fact -that, with Europe aflame, America could hardly long remain out of the -conflagration. - -During the following winter, however, in spite of the great cloud that -hung over the whole world, in spite of the intimate knowledge that we -all shared that neither would we nor could we avoid the horror that was -to come, occasionally there would be brief moments of old-time gaiety -in our family life, little intervals of happy companionship, oases in -the desert of an apprehension that was in itself prophetic. I remember -saying to my brother one day: “Theodore, you know that I belong to -the Poetry Society of America, and a great many of its members wish -to meet you. I have really been very considerate of you, and although -this wish has been frequently expressed for some years in the society, -I have spared you heretofore, but the moment has come!” “Must I meet -the poets, Pussie?” he said laughingly and rather deprecatingly. “Yes,” -I replied firmly. “The poets have their rights quite as much as the -politicians, and the time for the poets is at hand.” “All right--name -your day,” he answered, and so a day was named, and I invited a number -of my friends amongst the poets to take tea with me on a certain -afternoon to meet Colonel Roosevelt. I remember I asked him to try to -come from his office early enough for me to jog his memory about some -of the work of my various poet friends, but a large number of verse -writers had already gathered in my sitting-room before he arrived. I -placed him by my side and asked a friend to bring up my various guests -so that I might introduce them to him. I remember the care with which -I tried to connect the name of the person whom I introduced with some -one of his or her writings, and I also remember the surprise with which -I realized how unnecessary was all such effort on my part, for, as I -would say, “Theodore, this is Mr. So-and-So, who wrote such and such,” -he would rapidly respond, “But you need not tell me that. I remember -that poem very well, indeed,” and turning with that delightful smile -of his to the flattered author, he would say, “I like the fifth line -of the third verse of that poem of yours. It goes this way,” and with -that, in a strong, ringing voice, he would repeat the line referred -to. As each person turned away from the word or two with him, which -evidently gave him almost as much pleasure as it gave them, I could -hear them say to each other, “How did he know that poem of mine?” When -I myself questioned him about his knowledge of modern American poetry, -he answered quite simply: “But you know I like poetry and I try to keep -up on that line of literature too.” He was very fond of some of Arthur -Guiterman’s clever verse, and quoted with special pleasure a sarcastic -squib which the latter had just published on the navy, apropos of -Mr. Daniels’s attitude: “We are sitting with our knitting on the -twelve-inch guns!” - -Robert Frost, who was with us that afternoon, had shortly before -published a remarkable poem called “Servant to Servants,” which -had attracted my brother’s attention, and of which he spoke with -keen interest to the author. Nothing distressed him more than the -realization of the hard work performed by the farmer’s wife almost -everywhere in our country, and in this poem of Mr. Frost’s that -situation was painted with his forceful pen. - -This remarkable memory of my brother’s was shown not only that -afternoon amongst the poets, but shortly afterward by an incident in -connection with an afternoon at the Three Arts Club, where he also -generously consented to spend an hour amongst the young girls who had -come from various places in our broad country to study one of the three -arts--drama, music, or painting--in our great metropolis. My friend -Mrs. John Henry Hammond, the able president of the Three Arts Club, -was anxious that he should meet her protégées and mine, for I was a -manager of the club. I remember we lined the girls up in a row and -had them pass in front of him in single file--several hundred young -girls. Each was to have a shake of the hand and a special word from -the ex-President, but none was supposed to pause more than a moment, -as his time was limited. About fifty or sixty girls had already passed -in front of him and received a cordial greeting, when a very pretty -student, having received her greeting, paused a little longer and, -looking straight at him, said: “Colonel Roosevelt, don’t you remember -me?” This half-laughingly--evidently having been dared to ask the -question. Holding her hand and gazing earnestly at her, he paused a -moment or two and then, with a brilliant flashing smile, said: “Of -course I do. You were the little girl, seven years ago, on a white -bucking pony at El Paso, Texas, where I went down to a reunion of my -Rough Riders. I remember your little pony almost fell backward into the -carriage when it reared at the noise of the band.” There never was a -more surprised girl than the one in question, for seven years had made -a big difference in the child of twelve, the rider of the bucking white -pony, and it had really not occurred to her that he could possibly -remember the incident, but remember it he did, and one very happy heart -was carried away that day from the Three Arts Club. - -As the winter of 1917 slipped by, there was evidence on all sides -that the slogan on which the Democratic party had based its campaign -efforts must soon be falsified; nothing could keep the American people -longer from their paramount duty, and on April 2, 1917, President -Wilson appeared before the united bodies of the House and the Senate -in Washington, and asked that Congress should declare a state of war -between Germany and ourselves. Colonel Roosevelt, always anxious to -back up the President in any action in which he thought he was right, -went to Washington, or rather stopped in Washington, for he was in the -South at the time, to congratulate him on his decision and to offer his -services to assist the President in any way that might be possible. - -Within a few weeks of the actual declaration of war, Mr. Roosevelt was -already begging that he might be allowed to raise a volunteer division, -and urging that the administration Army Bill should be supplemented -with legislation authorizing the raising of from one hundred to five -hundred thousand volunteers to be sent to the firing-line in Europe -at the earliest possible moment. In a letter to Senator George E. -Chamberlain, of Oregon, Colonel Roosevelt writes as follows: - -“I most earnestly and heartily support the administration bill for -providing an army raised on the principle of universal obligatory -military training and service, but meanwhile, let us use volunteer -forces in connection with a portion of the Regular army, in order, at -the earliest possible moment,--within a few months,--to put our flag -on the firing line. We owe this to humanity; we owe it to the small -nations who have suffered such dreadful wrong from Germany. Most of -all, we owe it to ourselves; to our national honor and self-respect. -For the sake of our own souls, for the sake of the memories of the -great Americans of the past, we must show that we do not intend to make -this merely a dollar war. Let us pay with our bodies for our souls’ -desire. Let us, without one hour’s unnecessary delay, put the American -flag at the battle-front in this great world war for Democracy and -civilization, and for the reign of Justice and fair-dealing among the -nations of mankind. - -“My proposal is to use the volunteer system not in the smallest degree -as a substitute for, but as the, at present, necessary supplement to -the obligatory system. Certain of the volunteer organizations could be -used very soon; they could be put into the fighting in four months.... -I therefore propose that there should be added to the proposed law, a -section based on Section 12 of the Army Act of March 2nd, 1899....” - -At the same time Representative Caldwell made an open statement as -follows: “The Army Bill suggested by Secretary Baker will, in all -probability, be introduced in the House on Wednesday. There have been -suggestions made that a clause be placed in the proposed bill which -would give Colonel Roosevelt the power to take an army division to -Europe. Colonel Roosevelt outlined his plans to me.... I am a Democrat -and intend to abide by the wishes of President Wilson and told Colonel -Roosevelt so. We agreed that there was no politics in this matter, -and from my talk with Mr. Roosevelt, I believe him to be sincere in -his purpose. He gave me the names of men throughout the country who -signified their intention of joining his division. They include a -number of men who served as officers with him in the Spanish War, many -college students, former officers and members of the National Guard, -all of whom are in the best of physical condition and ready to go at a -moment’s notice. Colonel Roosevelt said that a large majority of the -men whom he hoped to take with him are from the south and west.” - -Already, at the first intimation that Colonel Roosevelt might lead a -division into France, there had flocked to his standard thousands of -men, just as had been the case in the old days of the Rough Riders. As -immediate as was the rallying to his standard were also the attacks -made upon him for having wished to dedicate himself to this patriotic -enterprise, and one of the most acrimonious debates that ever occurred -in the Senate of the United States was on the subject of the amendment -to that Army Bill. The Democrats, led by Senator Stone, had much to say -about the unfitness of the Colonel. They did not seem to realize how -strong was the desire of France to have America’s best-known citizen -go to her shores at the moment when her morale was at the ebb; nor did -they realize, apparently, the promise for the future that there would -be in the rapid arrival of a large body of ardent American soldiers, -well equipped to tide over the period of waiting before a still larger -force could come to the assistance of the Allies. - -Senator Hiram Johnson, orator and patriot, made a glowing defense of -Colonel Roosevelt in answering Senator Stone. It is interesting to -realize at this moment, when former Senator Harding is the President of -the United States, that it was he who offered the amendment to the Army -Bill, making it possible for Colonel Roosevelt to lead that division -into France. Senator Johnson said: - -“... I listened with surprise--indeed, as a senator of the United -States, with humiliation--to the remarks of the senior senator from -Missouri as he excoriated Theodore Roosevelt and as he held up to scorn -and contumely what he termed contemptuously ‘The Roosevelt Division.’ -What is it that is asked for The Roosevelt Division? It is asked only -by a man who is now really in the twilight of life that he may finally -lay down his life for the country that is his. It is only that he -asks that he may serve that country, may go forth to battle for his -country’s rights, and may do all that may be done by a human being -on behalf of his nation. My God! When was it that a nation denied to -its sons the right to fight in its behalf? We have stood shoulder to -shoulder both sides of this Chamber in this war. To say that Roosevelt -desires, for personal ambition and political favor hereafter, to go to -war is to deny the entire life of this patriot.... Our distinguished -senator has said that Roosevelt has toured the land in the endeavor -to do that which he desires. Aye, he has toured the land; he toured -the land for preparedness two and a half years ago, and he was laughed -at as hysterical. He toured the land two and a half years ago and -continuously since for undiluted Americanism, and you said he was -filled with jingoism. To-day _you_ have adopted _his_ preparedness -plan; to-day _his_ undiluted Americanism that he preached to many, to -which but few listened, has become the slogan of the whole nation. He -toured the land for patriotism!... After all, my friends, Roosevelt -fought in the past and he fought for the United States of America; -after all, he asks only that he be permitted to fight to-day for the -United States of America. He is accused of a lack of experience.... -There is one thing this man has--one thing that he has proven in the -life he has lived in the open in this nation--he has red blood in his -veins and he has the ability to fight and he has the tenacity to win -when he fights, and that is the sort of an American that is needed -and required in this war. I say to you, gentlemen of this particular -assemblage, that if a man can raise a division, if he wishes to fight, -die, if need be, for his country, it is a sad and an awful thing that -his motive shall be questioned and his opinions assailed in the very -act that is indeed the closing act of his career. - -“Oh! for more Roosevelts in this nation; oh! for more men who will -stand upon the hustings and go about the country preaching the -undiluted Americanism that all of us claim to have! Oh! for more -Roosevelts and more divisions of men who will follow Roosevelt! With -more Roosevelts and more Roosevelt divisions, the flag of the United -States will go forth in this great world conflict to the victory that -every real American should desire and demand.” - -Part of the afternoon just before the final vote on the above amendment -to that Army Bill was spent by Theodore Roosevelt in my library in -New York. Those were the days when Mr. Balfour, M. Viviani, and -General Joffre were receiving the acclamation and the plaudits of -the American people. At several of the great ovations given to them, -Theodore Roosevelt was also on the platform, and it was frequently -brought to my notice by others that the tribute to him when he entered -or left the assemblage was equal in its enthusiasm to that for the -distinguished guests. On the afternoon to which I have referred, the -French ambassador came for a quiet cup of tea with me and my brother, -and to his old friend and his sister the Colonel was willing to unbosom -his heart. He spoke poignantly of his desire to lead his division into -France. Over and over again he repeated: “The President need not fear -me politically. No one need fear me politically. If I am allowed to go, -I could not last; I am too old to last long under such circumstances. I -should _crack_ [he repeated frequently: “I should _crack_”] but [with -a vivid gleam of his white teeth] I _could_ arouse the belief that -America was coming. I could show the Allies what was on the way, and -then if I did crack, the President could use me to come back and arouse -more enthusiasm here and take some more men over. That is what I am -good for now, and what difference would it make if I cracked or not!” - -The amendment _was_ passed that made it possible for volunteers to go -to France, but the beloved wish of his heart was denied by those in -authority to that most eager of volunteers, Colonel Theodore Roosevelt. - -In July my brother wrote an open letter of farewell, disbanding the -division for which there had been tentatively so many volunteers. -After a correspondence with the secretary of war, a correspondence -which Theodore Roosevelt himself has given to the world, the definite -decision was made that he would not be allowed to “give his body for -his soul’s desire,” and shortly after that decision I sent him the -following poem, which had been shown to me by one of his devoted -admirers, the poet Marion Couthouy Smith. It ran as follows: - -FAREWELLS - - “In old Fraunces Tavern, - Once I was told - Of Washington’s farewell to his generals, - Generals crowned with victory, - And tears filled my eyes.-- - - “But when I read - Roosevelt’s letter disbanding his volunteers,-- - Volunteers despised and rejected,-- - Tears filled my heart!” - -In acknowledging the poem on July 3, 1917, from Sagamore Hill, my -brother writes: - -“I loved your letter; and as for the little poem, I prize it more than -anything that has been written about me; I shall keep it as the epitaph -of the division and of me. We have just heard that Ted and Archie have -landed in France. Lord Northcliffe wired me this morning that Lord -Derby offered Kermit a position on the staff of the British army in -Mesopotamia. [After hard fighting in Mesopotamia, Kermit was later -transferred to the American forces in France.] I do not know when he -will sail. Quentin has passed his examinations for the flying corps. He -hopes to sail this month. Dick [Richard Derby, his son-in-law] is so -anxious to go down to Camp Oglethorpe that Ethel is almost as anxious -to have him go. Eleanor [young Theodore’s wife] sails for France on -Saturday to do Y. M. C. A. work. _I_ remain, as a slacker ‘malgré lui!’ -Give my love to Corinne and Joe and Helen and Teddy. I am immensely -pleased about Dorothy’s baby. [Dorothy, my son Monroe’s wife.] Edith -asked Fanny to come out on Friday with our delightful friend, Beebe -the naturalist. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Beebe is a great friend of -mine.” - -The “slacker malgré lui” accepted the gravest disappointment of his -life as he did any other disappointment--eyes forward, shoulders -squared, and head thrown back. It was hard for him, however, to busy -himself, as he said, with what he considered “utterly pointless and -fussy activities,” when his whole soul was in the great conflict on the -far side of the water, from which one of his boys was not to return, -and where two of the others were to be seriously wounded. - -Writing on October 5, 1917, he says: “Of course I stood by Mitchel.” -This refers to a hot campaign which was waging around the figure of the -young mayor of New York City, John Purroy Mitchel, who had given New -York City the best administration for many a long year and was up for -re-election but, unfortunately, due to many surprising circumstances, -was later defeated. My brother had the greatest admiration for the -fearlessness and ability of the young mayor, and later, when that same -gallant American entered the flying service and was killed in a trial -flight, no one mourned him more sincerely than did the man who always -recognized courage and determination and patriotism in Democrat or -Republican alike. - -About the same time, in speaking of General Franklin Bell, who was -in charge of Camp Upton, he says: “The latter is keenly eager to go -abroad. He says that if he is not sent, he will retire and go abroad as -a volunteer.” By a strange chance, a snapshot was taken of the first -division of drafted men sent to Camp Upton just as they were passing -the reviewing-stand, on which stood together Franklin Bell, John Purroy -Mitchel, and Theodore Roosevelt. The expression on my brother’s face -was one so spiritual, so exalted in aspect, that I am reproducing the -picture. - -[Illustration: - - _From a photograph, copyright by Underwood and Underwood._ - -A review of New York’s drafted men before going into training in -September, 1917. - -Neither Colonel Roosevelt nor his companions to the left and right, -General Bell and Mayor Mitchel, lived to see the final review.] - -All through that autumn he gave himself unstintedly to war work of -all kinds, and amongst other things came, at my request, to a -“Fatherless Children of France” booth at the great Allied Bazaar. The -excitement in front of the booth as he stood there was intense, and as -usual the admirers who struggled to shake his hand were of the most -varied character. We decided to charge fifty cents for a hand-shake, -and we laughed immoderately at the numbers of repeaters. One man, -however, having apparently approached the booth from curiosity, said -“it wasn’t worth it.” The indignation of the crowd was so great that -immediately there were volunteers to pay for three and four extra -hand-shakes to shame the delinquent! - -Shortly before that, a friend of Colonel John W. Vrooman’s wrote to him -about a certain meeting at the Union League Club called to witness a -send-off to some of the soldiers. The writer says: - -“The moment Colonel Roosevelt appeared on the reviewing stand he was -recognized and the vicinity of the Club was in an uproar. Later on when -visiting a party in the private dining room, he had only been in the -room about three minutes when he was recognized by the girls and boys -who were looking at the review from a building on the opposite side of -the street. Just to show you how he reaches the heart of the people, -they cheered and waved at him until his attention was attracted and he -had to go to the window and salute them. Although he was an hour and a -half in conversation in the club, he did not forget his little friends -across the way but on leaving, went to the window and waved goodbye to -them. Every youngster present will relate this incident, I am sure, for -a long time to come. In leaving the Club house, he was set upon, it -seemed to me, by the youngsters of the East Side so that he had to beg -his way through the crowd that had been waiting in the rain three hours -just to see him, and in getting into the automobile, they appeared -to an on-looker to be clambering all over him, and I would not be -surprised if he carried a few of them away in his pockets as he carried -most of their little hearts with him.” - -In the midst of all the excitement, we occasionally snatched a -moment for a quiet luncheon. “Fine!” he writes me on November 5. -“Yes,--Thursday,--the Langdon at 1:30. It will be fine to see Patty -Selmes.” How he did enjoy seeing our mutual friend Patty Selmes that -day! As “Patty Flandrau” of Kentucky she had married Tilden Selmes -just about the time that Theodore Roosevelt had taken up his residence -in the Bad Lands of Dakota, where the young married couple had also -migrated. Nothing was ever more entertaining than to start the “don’t -you remember” conversations between my brother and his old friend Mrs. -Selmes. Each would cap some wild Western story of the other with one -equally wild and amusing, and the tales of their adventures with the -Marquis de Morés would have shamed Dumas himself! - -Another little note came to me shortly after the above, suggesting -that he should spend the night and have one of the old-time breakfasts -that he loved. “Breakfast is really the meal for long and intimate -conversation.” He writes the postscript which he adds he knew would -please my heart, for one of my sons, owing to a slight defect in one -eye, had had difficulty in being accepted in the army, but through -strong determination had finally achieved a captaincy in the ammunition -train of the 77th Division. My brother says in the postscript: “I -genuinely admire and respect Monroe.” About New Year’s eve a letter -came to my husband from him in answer to a congratulatory letter on the -fine actions of my brother’s boys. “Of course, we are very proud of -Archie, and General Duncan has just written us about Ted in terms that -make our hearts glow. Well, there is no telling what the New Year has -in store. The hand of Fate may be heavy upon us, but we can all be sure -that it will not take away our pride in our boys. [My son Monroe was -expecting to be sent soon to France in the 77th Division, and my eldest -son, who had broken his leg, was hoping to get into a camp when the leg -had recovered its power.] I cannot tell you, my dear Douglas, how much -you and Corinne have done for us and have meant to us during the last -six months. Ever yours, T. R.” - -In the “Life and Letters of George Eliot” she dwells upon the fact -that so many people lose the great opportunity of giving to others the -outward expression of their love and appreciation, and as I re-read -my brother’s treasured letters, I realize fully what the authoress -meant, and how much the giver of such honest and loving expression wins -in return from those to whom the happiness of appreciation has been -rendered. - -The year 1917 was over; the American people once more could look with -level eyes in the faces of their allies in the great world effort for -righteousness. In the midst of thoughts of war, in the midst of clamor -of all sorts, in the midst of grave anxiety for the sons of his heart, -wearing a service pin with five stars upon it--for he regarded his -gallant son-in-law Doctor Richard Derby as one of his own flesh and -blood--Theodore Roosevelt still had time to speak and write on certain -subjects close in another way than war to the hearts and minds of the -people. Writing for the _Ladies’ Home Journal_ an article called “Shall -We Do Away with the Church?” he says certain things of permanent import -to the nation. - -“In the pioneer days of the West, we found it an unfailing rule that -after a community had existed for a certain length of time, either a -church was built or else the community began to go downhill. In these -old communities of the Eastern States which have gone backward, it is -noticeable that the retrogression has been both marked and accentuated -by a rapid decline in church membership and work, the two facts being -so interrelated that each stands to the other partly as a cause and -partly as an effect.” After reviewing the self-indulgent Sunday in -contradistinction to the church-going Sunday, he says: - -“I doubt whether the frank protest of nothing but amusement has -really brought as much happiness as if it had been alloyed with and -supplemented by some minimum meeting of obligation toward others. -Therefore, on Sunday go to church. Yes,--I know all the excuses; I know -that one can worship the Creator and dedicate oneself to good living -in a grove of trees or by a running brook or in one’s own house just -as well as in a church, but I also know that as a matter of cold fact, -the average man _does not_ thus worship or thus dedicate himself. If he -stays away from church he does not spend his time in good works or in -lofty meditation.... He may not hear a good sermon at church but unless -he is very unfortunate he will hear a sermon by a good man who, with -his good wife, is engaged all the week long in a series of wearing and -hum-drum and important tasks for making hard lives a little easier; -and both this man and this wife are, in the vast majority of cases, -showing much self-denial, and doing much for humble folks of whom few -others think, and they are keeping up a brave show on narrow means. -Surely, the average man ought to sympathize with the work done by such -a couple and ought to help them, and he cannot help them unless he is a -reasonably regular church attendant. Besides, even if he does not hear -a good sermon, the probabilities are that he will listen to and take -part in reading some beautiful passages from the Bible, and if he is -not familiar with the Bible, he has suffered a loss which he had better -make all possible haste to correct. He will meet and nod to or speak -to good, quiet neighbors. If he doesn’t think about himself too much, -he will benefit himself very much, especially as he begins to think -chiefly of others.... - -“I advocate a man’s joining in church work for the sake of showing his -faith by his works; I leave to professional theologians the settlement -of the question, whether he is to achieve his salvation by his works or -by faith which is only genuine if it expresses itself in works. Micah’s -insistence upon love and mercy, and doing justice and walking humbly -with the Lord’s will, should suffice if lived up to.... Let the man -not think overmuch of saving his own soul. That will come of itself, -if he tries in good earnest to look after his neighbor both in soul -and in body--remembering always that he had better leave his neighbor -alone rather than show arrogance and lack of tactfulness in the effort -to help him. The church on the other hand must fit itself for the -practical betterment of mankind if it is to attract and retain the -fealty of the men best worth holding and using.” - -Space forbids my quoting further from this, to me, exceptionally -interesting article which closes with this sentence: “The man who -does not in some way, active or not, connect himself with some active -working church, misses many opportunities for helping his neighbors and -therefore, incidentally, for helping himself.” - -And again, in an address at the old historic church of Johnstown -in Pennsylvania, he makes a great plea for the church of the new -democracy, and lays stress upon the fact that unless individuals can -honestly believe in their hearts that their country would be better -off without any churches, these same individuals must acknowledge the -fact that it is their duty to uphold, by their presence in them, the -churches which they know to be indispensable to the vigor and stability -of the nation. - -In the first week of February, 1918, he had arranged to come to me -for a cup of tea to meet one or two literary friends, and the message -came that he was not well and was going to the hospital instead. -The malignant Brazilian fever, always lurking, ready to spring at -his vitality, had shown itself in a peculiarly painful way, and an -operation was considered necessary. As his own sons were far away, -my son Monroe, who was soon to sail for France, was able to assist -in taking him to Roosevelt Hospital, and there the operation was -successfully performed; but within twenty-four hours, an unexpected -danger connected with the ears had arisen, and for one terrible night -the doctors feared for his life, as the trouble threatened the base -of the brain. The rumor spread that he was dying, and on February 8th -the New York _Tribune_ printed at the head of its editorial page this -short and touching sentence: “Theodore Roosevelt--listen! You must be -up and well again; we cannot have it otherwise; we could not run this -world without you.” At the time these words were printed, I was told -by my sister-in-law and by the doctor that he wanted to speak to me -(I had been in the hospital waiting anxiously near his room) and that -they felt that it would trouble him if he did not have his wish; they -cautioned me to put my ear close down to his lips, for even a slight -movement of the head might bring about a fatal result. My readers must -remember what was happening on the other side of the ocean as Theodore -Roosevelt lay sick unto death in the city of his birth. The most -critical period of the Great War was at hand. Very soon the terrible -“March offensive” was to begin. Very soon we were to hear that solemn -call from General Haig that his “back was against the wall.” We were -all keyed up to the highest extent; all of my brother’s sons were at -the front, my own son was about to sail, and at this most critical -moment the man to whom the youth of America looked for leadership was -stricken and laid low. - -As I entered the sick-room, all this was in my mind. Controlling myself -to all outward appearance, I put my ear close to his lips, and these -were the words which Theodore Roosevelt said to his sister, words which -he fully believed would be the last he could ever say to her. Thank -God he did speak to me many times again, and we had eleven months more -of close and intimate communion, but at that moment he was facing the -valley of the shadow. As I leaned over him, in a hoarse whisper he -said: “I am so glad that it is not one of my boys who is dying here, -for _they_ can die for their country.” - -As he gradually convalesced from that serious illness, many were our -intimate hours of conversation. The hospital was besieged by adoring -multitudes of inquirers. I remember taking a taxicab myself one day to -go there, and when I said to the Italian driver, “Go to the Roosevelt -Hospital,” the quick response came: “You go see Roosevelt--they all -go see Roosevelt--they all go ask how Roosevelt is--he my friend, -too--you tell him get well for me.” Every sort of individual, as he -grew stronger, waited in the corridor for a chance to consult him -on this or that subject. Of course few were allowed to do so, but it -was more than ever evident by the throng of men, distinguished in the -public affairs of the country, who begged admittance even for a few -moments that the “Colonel” was still the Mecca toward which the trend -of political hope was turning! - -After a brief rest at Oyster Bay he insisted upon keeping the -appointments to speak in various states, appointments the breaking of -which his illness had necessitated. His great ovation in Maine showed -beyond dispute how the heart of the Republican party was turning to its -old-time leader, and every war work, needless to say, clamored for a -speech from him. One of his most characteristic notes was in connection -with my plea that he should speak at Carnegie Hall for the Red Cross -on a certain May afternoon. Josef Hofmann had promised to come all the -way from Aiken to play for the benefit if Theodore Roosevelt were to be -the speaker of the occasion, and in writing him on the subject, I laid -stress on the sacrifice of time and energy of the great pianist, and -in my zeal apparently gave the impression that my brother was to do a -great favor to Josef Hofmann rather than the Red Cross, and he answers -me humorously: “Darling Corinne:--All right!--A ten-minute speech for -the _pianist_. That goes!” He always considered it a great joke that it -was necessary for Josef Hofmann to have him speak. - -That same May one lovely afternoon stands out most clearly. John -Masefield, the great English poet, had been several times in the -country. My brother knew his work well but had not met him, and I -had had that privilege. I wished to take him to Oyster Bay, and the -invitation was gladly forthcoming. It proved fair and beautiful, and -Mr. Masefield and I motored out to luncheon. On the veranda at Sagamore -Hill were my brother and Mrs. Roosevelt, their daughter Mrs. Derby -and her lovely children, and later John Masefield took little Richard -on his lap and wove for him a tale to which we grown people listened, -my brother resting his eyes gladly on the little boy’s head as he -leaned against the poet. After the story was told, we wandered off to -a distant summer-house overlooking both sides of the bay, and there -Theodore Roosevelt and John Masefield spoke intimately together of many -things. It was a day of sunlight in early spring, and the air was full -“of a summer to be,” but under the outward calm and beauty of the sun -and sea lay a poignant sadness for our sons who were in a distant land, -for the moment had come when the American troops were to show their -valor in a great cause. - -The day after the Carnegie Hall speech for the Red Cross, one of his -most flaming addresses, in which he pictured the young men of America -as Galahads of modern days, I wrote to him of my gratitude and emotion, -and he answers at once (how did he ever find the time to answer so -immediately so many letters which came to him): - -“Darling Corinne:--That is a very dear letter of yours; your sons and -my sons were before my eyes as I spoke. I am leaving tomorrow for the -West until May 31st. I leave again on June 6th, returning on the 13th, -and on Saturday, the 15th, must go to a Trinity College function and -stay with Bye. [Referring to my sister, Mrs. Cowles.] Will you take me -out in your motor to Oyster Bay for dinner when I return?” Already he -had plunged into what he considered his active duty and was overtaxing -his strength--that strength only so lately restored, and not entirely -restored--in the service of his country. - -It was at Indiana University in June of that year that he made one -of his most significant pronouncements, a pronouncement especially -significant in the light of the so-called Sinn Fein activities during -the last two years in this country. He was very fond of the Irish, and -fond of many of the Irish-born citizens of America, and always loved to -refer to his own Irish blood, but he had no sympathy whatsoever with -certain attitudes taken by certain Irish-born or naturalized Americans -under the name, falsely used, of patriotism, and he speaks his mind -courageously and clearly at Indiana University. - -“Friends, it is unpatriotic and un-American to damage America because -you love another country, but there is one thing worse and that is -to damage America because you hate another country. The Sinn Feiner -who acts against America because he hates England is a worse creature -than the member of the German-American Alliance who has acted against -America because he loves Germany. I want to point out this bit of -etymological information: Sinn Fein means ‘Us, Ourselves.’ It means -that those who adopt that name are fighting for themselves, for a -certain division of people across the sea. What right have they to come -to America? Their very name shows that they are not American; that they -are for themselves against America.” - -In July, when I had been threatened with rather serious trouble in my -eyes, he again writes with his usual unfailing sympathy: “I think of -you all the time. I so hate to have you threatened by trouble with -your eyes or any other trouble. Edgar Lee Masters spent a couple of -hours here yesterday. Ethel and her two blessed bunnies have gone. I -miss Pitty Pat and Tippy Toe frightfully.” Little “Edie,” his youngest -granddaughter, was a special pet, and rarely did one visit Sagamore at -that time without finding the lovely rosy baby in his arms. He could -hardly pass her baby-carriage when she slept without stopping to look -at her, for which nefarious action he was sometimes severely chastised -by the stern young mother. But the burning heart of Theodore Roosevelt -could hardly ever be assuaged even by the sweet unconsciousness of the -little children who knew not of the dangers faced so gallantly by their -father and their mother’s brothers. - -America had been over fourteen months in the Great War when an -editorial appeared in one of the important newspapers called “The -Impatience of Theodore Roosevelt.” It ran as follows: - -“There is a certain disposition to criticise Theodore Roosevelt for -what is termed his ultra views regarding the war. It is not all -captious criticism. Some people honestly feel that he has been -impatient and fault-finding. Much of the picture is true. He _has_ been -impatient; he _has_ taken what may be called an ultra position; he -_has_ found fault, but we should like to point out one very distinct -fact. Theodore Roosevelt from the first day we entered the war has -stood unswervingly and whole-heartedly for throwing the complete -strength of the nation into the war. For that matter, he held this -position, preached this doctrine long before we entered the war. He -preached the draft, he preached preparation, he preached the sending -of the largest possible army to France,--_from the beginning_. Now the -fact we wish to point out is that the country is not growing _away_ -from Theodore Roosevelt’s position,--it is growing toward it. It has -been actually moving toward it of late very rapidly. This is true not -merely of the great mass of people, but of their representatives at -Washington, ... and perhaps even some members of the Cabinet and the -President himself. Practically the whole nation _now_ is unreservedly -for throwing the whole strength of the nation to the side of the -allies. This was not true a year ago today, although we had then been -officially at war with Germany for more than two months. Today the -whole nation stands where Theodore Roosevelt stood one year ago, and -two years ago, and three years ago.--In point of fact, ever since the -day when by the sinking of the _Lusitania_, Germany declared itself an -outlaw to the name of civilization. We do not mean to say that Theodore -Roosevelt was the nation’s sole leader, but we do wish to say that -he was very distinctly a leader, and later, in the highest and best -sense,--a man who saw, far ahead of many others, what ought to be and -what must be, and then threw his whole heart and soul into bringing -the nation and many reluctant minds to his point of view. We write: He -may have been impatient; he may have found fault, but we think that -most Americans of whatever party color, if they now have any regrets, -have these regrets because we could not earlier have come nearer to -the ideal set up a year, or two years, or three years ago by Theodore -Roosevelt. If this is not one of the highest standards of leadership, -we do not understand the meaning of the term.” - -Events were moving rapidly. Our American soldiers were already playing -a gallant part in the terrible drama enacted on the fields and forests -of France and in the fastnesses of the Italian hills. News had come of -“Archie’s” wounds and of “Ted’s” wounds, and Quentin had already made -his trial flights, while Kermit had been transferred from the British -army to his own flag. - -Political events in America were also marching rapidly forward. -Already, wherever one lent a listening ear, the growing murmur rose -louder and louder that Theodore Roosevelt was the only candidate to -be nominated by the Republican party in 1920. The men who had parted -from him in 1912, the men who had not rallied around him in 1916, were -all eagerly ranging themselves on the side of this importunate rumor. -A culminating moment was approaching. It was the middle of July, and -the informal convention of the Republican party in New York State was -about to take place at Saratoga. My eldest son, State Senator Theodore -Douglas Robinson, led a number of men in the opposition of the then -incumbent of the gubernatorial chair, Charles S. Whitman. The hearts -of many were strong with desire that my brother himself should be the -Republican nominee for the next governor of New York State. No one knew -his attitude on the subject, but he had promised to make the address of -the occasion, my son having been appointed to make the request that he -should do so. My husband and I had arranged to meet him in Saratoga, my -son having preceded us to Albany to make all the formal arrangements. -The day before the convention was to take place the terrible news came -that Quentin was killed. Of course there was a forlorn hope that this -information might not be true, that the gallant boy might perhaps have -reached the earth alive and might already be a prisoner in a German -camp, but there seemed but little doubt of the truth of the terrible -fact. My son telephoned me the news from Albany before the morning -paper could arrive at my country home, and at the same time said to me -that he did not feel justified in asking his Uncle Theodore whether -he still would come to Saratoga, but that he wanted me to get this -information for him if possible. - -My country home in the Mohawk Hills of New York State is many miles -from Sagamore Hill on Long Island, and it was difficult to get -telephone connection. My heart was unspeakably sore and heavy at the -thought of the terrible sorrow that had come to my sister-in-law and my -brother, and I shrank from asking any question concerning any matter -except the sad news of the death of Quentin, or imminent danger to him. -My brother himself came to the telephone; the sound of his voice was as -if steel had entered into the tone. As years before he had written me -from South Africa in my own great sorrow, he had “grasped the nettle.” -I asked him whether he would like me to come down at once to Oyster -Bay, and his answer was almost harsh in its rapidity: “Of course not--I -will meet you in Saratoga as arranged. It is more than ever my duty -to be there. You can come down to New York after the convention.” The -very tone of his voice made me realize the agony in his heart, but duty -was paramount. The affairs of his State, the affairs of the nation, -needed his counsel, needed his self-control. His boy had paid the final -price of duty; was he, the father who had taught that boy the ideal of -service and sacrifice, to shrink in cowardly fashion at the crucial -moment? - -The next day I met him in Albany and motored him to Saratoga. His face -was set and grave, but he welcomed my sympathy generously. Meanwhile, -the night before there had been great excitement in Saratoga. A number -of delegates were in favor of renominating Governor Charles S. Whitman -on the Republican ticket, but a large and important group of men, in -fact, the largest and most important group in the Republican party of -New York State, were extremely anxious that Colonel Roosevelt should -allow his name to be brought forward as a candidate for governor. -Elihu Root, William Howard Taft, and many of the weighty “bosses” of -the various counties lent all their efforts toward this achievement. -Colonel Roosevelt, on his arrival in Saratoga, took a quiet luncheon -with my family, Mrs. Parsons, and myself, after which we adjourned -to the large hall in which the convention was to be held. I remember -before we left him that Mrs. Parsons suggested the insertion of a -sentence in the speech which he was about to make, and his immediate -and grateful response to the suggestion. No one had a more open mind to -the helpful suggestion of others. - -The great hall was already filled to overflowing when we arrived, and -it was difficult for us to find our seats, even although they had been -carefully reserved for us. The atmosphere of the crowd in the great -building was different from that of any concourse of people who had -hitherto waited the coming of Theodore Roosevelt. At other times, in -other crowds, when their favorite leader was expected, there had always -been a quality of hilarity and gay familiarity showing itself in songs -and demonstrations in which the oft-repeated “We want Teddy--we want -Teddy” almost always was heard, but in this great assemblage there was -a hushed silence and solicitude for their beloved friend, a personal -outflowing of silent sympathy for the man whose youngest, whose -“Benjamin,” had so lately paid the final price, and even a few minutes -later, when to the strains of the “Star-Spangled-Banner,” Colonel -Roosevelt was escorted up the aisle by my son, Senator Robinson, and -Congressman Cox, from his own Nassau County, the many faces turned -eagerly to watch him showed in strained eyes and set though quivering -lips their efforts at self-control. As he began his speech, we realized -fully that he was holding himself firmly together, but as he poured -out his message of Americanism, as he pleaded for the finer and truer -patriotism to be brought more closely and definitely into political -action, he lost the sense of the great bereavement that had come to -him, in his dedication anew to the effort to arouse in his countrymen -the selfless desire for service, with which he had always fronted -the problems of his own life. Toward the end of the speech, though he -never referred to his sorrow, the realization of it again gripped him -with its inevitable torture, and again the people who sat in breathless -silence--listening to one to whom they had always listened--followed in -their hearts the hard path that he was bravely treading. - -The convention adjourned, and he asked the leaders to wait until the -following day, at least, for his answer to the Round-Robin request -which had been sent to him, but he did not give much hope that he would -look favorably upon their desire that he should allow his name to be -put in nomination as candidate for governor. I motored him back to -Albany and took the train with him for New York. In recalling the hours -of intercourse that afternoon and early evening, the great impression -made upon my mind by his attitude was one of ineffable gentleness. -Never was he more loving in his interest about me and mine; never was -he less thoughtful of self. I realized that he needed quiet, and when -I found that my seat was in a different car from his, although several -people offered to change their seats with me, I felt that after our -drive together, it would do him more good to be alone and read than -to try to talk to me. I told him I would order our dinner and would -come back for him when it was time for the meal, and I left him with -his usual book in his hand. When I came back, however, I stood behind -him for a moment or two before making myself known to him again, and -I could see that he was not reading, that his sombre eyes were fixed -on the swiftly passing woodlands and the river, and that the book had -not the power of distracting him from the all-embracing grief which -enveloped him. When I spoke, however, he turned with a responsive -smile, and during our whole meal gave me, as ever, the benefit of his -delightful knowledge of all the affairs of the world. - -Only once during our talk did he speak of the Round-Robin, and -especially of my son’s desire that he should be the nominee for -governor. He used an expression in discussing the matter which gave -me at once a sense of almost physical apprehension. Looking at me -gravely, he said: “Corinne, I have only one fight left in me, and I -think I should reserve my strength in case I am needed in 1920.” The -contraction of my heart was swift and painful, and I said: “Theodore, -you don’t feel really ill, do you?” “No,” he said; “but I am not what -I was and there is only one fight left in me.” I suggested that that -fight would probably be made easier by this premonitory battle, but he -shook his head and I could see that there was but little chance of his -undertaking the factional warfare of a state campaign, nor did he seem -to feel, as did some others, that to win the election for governor of -New York State would be of distinct advantage in connection with the -great fight to come in 1920. The following week Theodore Roosevelt -definitely refused to let his name be put before the people as a -candidate for the governorship of the Empire State. - -That evening on arriving late in New York, he would not let me go to -the Langdon Hotel with him, but insisted on taking me to my own house. -The next morning I went early to the Langdon, hoping for better news, -and saw my sister-in-law, whose wonderful self-control was a lesson -to all those who have had to meet the ultimate pain of life. I could -see that she had but little hope, but for my brother’s sake, until the -actual confirmation of Quentin’s death, she bravely hoped for hope. -Later, Colonel Roosevelt made a statement from Oyster Bay in connection -with the many telegrams and cables of sympathy which they received. He -said: “These messages were not meant for publication but to express -sympathy with Quentin’s father and mother, and sorrow for a gallant -boy who had been doing his duty like hundreds of thousands of young -Americans. Many of them indeed, I think, were really an expression of -sympathy from the mothers and fathers who have gladly and proudly, and -yet with sorrow, seen the sons they love go forth to battle for their -country and the right. These telegrams, cables, and letters show the -spirit of our whole people.” - -The noble attitude of my brother and sister-in-law roused deep -admiration, and I have always felt that their influence was never more -felt than when with aching hearts they continued quietly to go about -their daily duties. - -On August 3d a letter came to me from Dark Harbor, Maine, where -Colonel and Mrs. Roosevelt had gone to visit their daughter Mrs. -Derby. “Darling Corinne:--Indeed it would be the greatest pleasure--I -mean that exactly,--to have you bring little Douglas to Sagamore in -the holidays. [He refers to my grandson, the son of Theodore Douglas -Robinson.] All the people here are most considerate and the children a -comfort. Little Edie is as pretty as a picture and a little darling; -she has been very much of a chimney swallow this morning, clinging to -whoever will take her up and cuddle her.” In the latter part of the -letter he refers to my own great loss nine years before of my youngest -son in his twentieth year, and says: “Your burden was even harder to -bear than ours, for Stewart’s life was even shorter than Quentin’s and -he had less chance to give shape to what there was in him, but, after -all, when the young die at the crest of their life, in their golden -morning, the degrees of difference are merely degrees in bitterness; -and yet, there is nothing more cowardly than to be beaten down by -sorrows which nothing we can do will change. Love to Douglas, Helen -and Teddy, and to Fanny if she is with you.” The sentence of this -brave letter in which my brother speaks of its being “cowardly to be -beaten down by sorrows which nothing we do can change” is typical of -the attitude which he had preserved through his whole life. Theodore -Roosevelt was a great sharer and a great lover, but above all else he -was essentially the courageous man who faced squarely whatever came, -and by so facing conquered. - -A few days later, again a dear letter came from Dark Harbor, and once -more he dwells upon the baby girl who comforted him with her sweet, -unconscious merriment. He says: “She is such a pretty little baby -and with such cunning little ways. I fear I am not an unprejudiced -witness. The little, curly-headed rascal is at this moment, crawling -actively around my feet in her usual, absurd garb of blue overalls, -drawn over her dainty dresses, because otherwise, she would ruin -every garment she has on and skin her little bare knees. I heartily -congratulate Teddy on going to camp. Give Corinne and Helen my dearest -love and to all the others too.” The congratulations sent to my eldest -son were indeed deserved, for the serious break to his leg having at -last fully recovered, and a new camp near Louisville, Ky., having -been started for men above the draft age, my son with real sacrifice -resigned from his position in the Senate (having just been nominated -for a second term), and started for Camp Taylor, where later he -received his commission. My brother was very proud of the fact that, -with hardly an exception, each son, nephew, or cousin of the Roosevelt -and Robinson family was actively enrolled in the country’s service. - -On August 18, having returned to Sagamore Hill, a little line comes -to me of appreciation of a poem that I had written called “Italy.” -“I am particularly glad you wrote it,” he says, and referring to my -son-in-law, he continues: “Joe and Corinne lunched here yesterday; they -were dear,--I admire them both so much.” He never failed, as I have -said before, in giving me the joy of knowing when he admired those -most dear to me. The following day, August 19, Mr. Colgate Hoyt, a -generous neighbor, wrote to Colonel Roosevelt making the suggestion -that a monument should be erected in honor of Quentin in some permanent -place in the village of Oyster Bay, as Mr. Hoyt thought it would have -an educational influence and value, as Quentin was the first resident -of Oyster Bay (and the first officer) to make the supreme sacrifice -in giving his life for his country. Mr. Hoyt wished to start this -movement, but Colonel Roosevelt sent the following reply, a copy of -which Mr. Hoyt gave me: - -“My dear Mr. Hoyt:--That is a very nice letter of yours, but I do not -think it would be advisable to try to put up a monument for Quentin. Of -course, individually, our loss is irreparable but to the country he is -simply one among many gallant boys who gave their lives for the great -Cause. With very hearty thanks, Faithfully yours.” - -The above letter and his statement that he and Quentin’s mother would -prefer that their boy should lie where he fell were but what would have -naturally been expected of Colonel and Mrs. Roosevelt. - -In September, 1918, Theodore Roosevelt made an address on Lafayette -Day, part of which ran as follows: - -“Lafayette Day commemorates the service rendered to America in the -Revolution by France. I wish to insist with all possible emphasis that -in the present war, France, England, and Italy and the other Allies -have rendered us similar services.... They have been fighting for us -when they were fighting for themselves. [My brother was only repeating -in 1918 what he had stanchly declared from the autumn of 1914.] Our -army on the other side is now repaying in part our debt. It is now -time and it is long behind time for America to bear her full share -of the common burden.... It is sometimes announced that part of the -Peace Agreement must be a League of Nations which will avert all war -for the future and put a stop to the need of this nation preparing its -own strength for its own defense. In deciding upon proposals of this -nature, it behooves our people to remember that competitive rhetoric -is a poor substitute for the habit of resolutely looking facts in the -face. Patriotism stands in national matters as love of family does in -private life. Nationalism corresponds to the love a man bears for his -wife and children. Internationalism corresponds to the feeling he has -for his neighbors generally. The sound nationalism is the only type of -really helpful internationalism, precisely as in private relations, -it is the man who is most devoted to his own wife and children who -is apt in the long run to be the most satisfactory neighbor. The -professional pacifist and the professional internationalist are equally -undesirable citizens. The American pacifist has in the actual fact -shown himself to be the ally of the German militarist. We Americans -should abhor all wrong-doing to other nations. We ought always to -act fairly and generously by other nations, but, we must remember -that our first duty is to be loyal and patriotic citizens of our -_own_ nation. Any such League of Nations would have to depend for its -success upon the adhesion of nine other nations which are actually or -potentially the most powerful military nations; and these nine nations -include Germany, Austria, Turkey, and Russia. The first three have -recently and repeatedly violated and are now actively and continuously -violating not only every treaty but every rule of civilized warfare -and of international good faith. During the last year, Russia under -the dominance of the Bolshevist has betrayed her Allies, has become -the tool of the German autocracy and has shown such utter disregard of -her national honor and plighted word and her international duties that -she is now in external affairs the passive tool and ally of her brutal -conqueror, Germany. - -“What earthly use is it to pretend that the safety of the world would -be secured by a League in which these four nations would be among the -nine leading partners? Long years must pass before we can again trust -in promises these four nations make. Therefore, unless our folly is -such that it will not depart from us until we are brayed in a mortar, -let us remember that any such treaty will be worthless unless our own -prepared strength renders it unsafe to break it.... Let us support -any reasonable plan whether in the form of a League of Nations or -in any other shape which bids fair to lessen the probable number of -future wars and to limit their scope, but let us laugh at all or any -assertions that any such plan will guaranty Peace and Safety to the -foolish, weak, or timid characters who have not the will and the power -to prepare for their own defense. Support any such plan which is -honest and reasonable, but support it as a condition to and never as -a substitute for the policy of preparing our own strength for our own -defense. - -“I believe that this preparation should be, by the introduction in -this country of the principle of universal training and universal -service, as practised in Switzerland, and modified, of course, along -the lines enacted in Australia, and in accordance with our needs. There -will be no taint of Prussian militarism in such a system. It will -merely mean to fit ourselves for self-defense and a great democracy in -which order, law, and liberty are to prevail.” - -I have quoted this speech because I am under the impression that it was -his first actual declaration of any attitude toward a proposed League -of Nations. In the early autumn of 1914 Theodore Roosevelt himself -had written an article for the New York _Times_ syndicate in which he -suggested the possibility of a League of Nations, and the fact that he -did make that suggestion was frequently used after his death--and, I -think, in an unjustifiable manner--by the adherents of the Wilsonian -League of Nations, with the desire to make the American public feel -that my brother would have been in favor of Mr. Wilson’s league. In -every pronouncement in connection with a tentative or possible league, -my brother invariably laid stress upon an absolutely Americanized type -of association. I asked him once about his article written in 1914, and -he told me that while still hoping that some good might come from a -league or association of nations, his serious study of world situations -during the Great War had made him less optimistic as to the possibility -of reaching effective results through such a possible league or -association. - -In another speech at about the same time, he said, in characteristic -fashion: “I frequently meet one of those nice gentry in whom softness -of heart has spread to the head, who say: ‘How can we guaranty that -everybody will love one another at the end of the war?’ The first step -in guarantying it is to knock Germany out!” - -On September 12 my husband, Douglas Robinson, the unfailing friend -and devoted brother of Theodore Roosevelt, died very suddenly, and -my brother and sister-in-law hurried to the old home on the Mohawk -Hills which my husband had loved so well. Putting themselves and -their own grief for Mr. Robinson and their own late personal sorrow -entirely aside, they did all that could be done by those we love to -help me in every way. My brother had always cared for Henderson House, -its traditions and its customs, and even in the midst of the sorrow -which now hung over the old place, he constantly spoke to me of his -appreciation of its atmosphere. At the time of my husband’s death my -eldest son came quickly back for two days from the camp where he was -training, to his own home adjoining mine, and his children were with -us constantly during those days, as were the children of my nephew and -niece, Hall and Margaret Roosevelt, who occupied a little cottage on my -place. I remember with what tender thoughtfulness my brother withdrew -himself on the Sunday afternoon after the funeral and wrote a long -letter to my second son, Monroe, a captain in the 77th Division, then -in the Argonne Forest in France. Just as he had found comfort in his -own little grandchildren during those hard days at Dark Harbor, Maine, -so, while facing the great loss of his lifelong and devoted friend -and brother-in-law, he turned to an affectionate intercourse with the -little ones of the youngest generation of the family, and on September -19, when he had left me and gone to Oyster Bay, he writes: “I think of -you with tenderest love and sympathy all the time. I cannot get over my -delight in Helen and Teddy’s darling children; and I loved Margaret’s -brace of little strappers also. Archie and Gracie have hired a little -apartment in town.” His son Captain Archibald Roosevelt had returned -from France sorely wounded in both arm and leg, wounds and disabilities -which he bore with undaunted patience and courage. - -On October 13, in response to a letter of mine in which I told him that -a Monsieur Goblet had wished the honor of dedicating to him a poem, and -at the same time had also asked the privilege of translating my verses -“To France” into the French language, he writes to me: - -“I have written to M. Goblet as you suggested; I feel that you have -every right to be really pleased with what he says about your poem--a -noble little poem. - -“How admirably Monroe has done. It is astonishing how many men I meet -who speak of Douglas [my husband] not only with deep affectionate -regard but with a keen sense of the loss of an exceptionally vigorous -and powerful personality. Tell Helen that I am really counting on that -visit from her delightful children. Their attitude touched me very -much. I am much concerned at what you tell me about gallant Bye’s -health. Give her my dearest love.” - -My sister, Mrs. Cowles, was even more delicate than usual that -autumn, and I was with her at the time he wrote me the above letter. -His admiration for our older sister was unbounded, and her splendid -dauntless attitude toward the physical pain she suffered, and her -unbroken patience through suffering, never failed to awake in him a -responsive appreciation. - -About that time President Wilson entered into a correspondence with -Germany of which my brother disapproved. On October 13 he dictated the -following statement at his home on Sagamore Hill: - -“I regret greatly that President Wilson has entered into these -negotiations, and I trust they will be stopped. We have announced that -we will not submit to a negotiated Peace, and under such conditions, to -begin negotiations is bad faith with ourselves and our Allies.” - -Again on October 25, in an open letter to his intimate friend Senator -Henry Cabot Lodge, “Let us,” he says, “amongst other things, dictate -Peace by the hammering of guns, and not talk about Peace to the -accompaniment of the clicking of typewriters.” - -Although the extracts which follow were written and published several -weeks later than the above quotations, I prefer to give them in -this connection, for Colonel Roosevelt’s attitude toward “Peace -without victory” and a probable League of Nations has been so often -misrepresented. The Kansas City _Star_, the newspaper with which -Colonel Roosevelt had actual connection during the last year of his -life, published an editorial after his death in answer to a remark made -by Senator Hitchcock, chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, in -which he expressed the opinion that if Colonel Roosevelt were alive, -“he would be found supporting the League of Nations as ardently as -President Wilson.” - -_The Star_ denied this assertion, and said: - -“From the beginning of the discussion of the proposed League, _The -Star_ has been anxious to find practical features which it could -support as a real defense toward lasting peace. In the last weeks of -1918, the matter was taken up with Colonel Roosevelt who proved to be -of the same mind. He recognized the war weariness of the world,--a -weariness in which he shared to the full--and was anxious to further -any practical step in international organization. The difficulty was -to find the practical basis. After his first editorial approving -certain principles of a League, a member of _The Star_ staff discussed -the matter with him late in December at the Roosevelt Hospital. The -suggestion was made that in a contribution he might point out certain -things which a loosely organized League might accomplish. He replied -that he could see so little that it might accomplish, in comparison -with the rosy pictures that had been painted of its possibilities, that -he hesitated to write on that line. - -“In the course of correspondence, he wrote under date of December 28th, -1918: ‘In substance, or as our friends the diplomats say, in number, -I am in hearty accord with you.... But remember that you are freer to -write unsigned editorials than I am when I use my signature. If you -propose a little more than can be carried out, no harm comes, but if I -do so, it may hamper me for years. However, I will do my best to write -you such an article as you suggest and then, probably, one on what I -regard as infinitely more important, viz., our business to prepare -for our own self-defense.’ A few days later, almost on the eve of his -death, he wrote the following article printed in _The Star_ on January -13th. It was dictated at his home in Oyster Bay on January 3rd, the -Friday before his death, and his secretary expected to take the typed -copy to him for correction the following Monday, the very Monday of his -death. The following then, his final article, represents his matured -judgment based on protracted discussion and correspondence. It is of -peculiar importance as the last message of a man who, above every other -American of his generation, combined high patriotism, practical sense -and a positive genius for international relations.” - - BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT - - “It is, of course, a serious misfortune that our people are not - getting a clear idea of what is happening on the other side. For - the moment, the point as to which we are foggy is the League of - Nations. We all of us earnestly desire such a league, only we wish - to be sure that it will help and not hinder the cause of world - peace and justice. There is not a young man in this country who has - fought, or an old man who has seen those dear to him fight, who - does not wish to minimize the chance of future war. But there is - not a man of sense who does not know that in any such movement if - too much is attempted the result is either failure or worse than - failure. - - * * * * * - - “Would it not be well to begin with the league which we actually - have in existence, the league of the Allies who have fought - through this great war? Let us at the peace table see that real - justice is done as among these Allies, and that while the sternest - reparation is demanded from our foes for such horrors as those - committed in Belgium, northern France, Armenia, and the sinking - of the _Lusitania_, nothing should be done in the spirit of mere - vengeance. Then let us agree to extend the privileges of the - league as rapidly as their conduct warrants it to other nations, - doubtless discriminating between those who would have a guiding - part in the league and the weak nations who would be entitled to - the privileges of membership, but who would not be entitled to a - guiding voice in the councils. Let each nation reserve to itself - and for its own decision, and let it clearly set forth questions - which are non-justiciable. Let nothing be done that will interfere - with our preparing for our own defense by introducing a system of - universal obligatory military training modelled on the Swiss plan. - - “Finally make it perfectly clear that we do not intend to take a - position of an international Meddlesome Matty. The American people - do not wish to go into an overseas war unless for a very great - cause and where the issue is absolutely plain. Therefore, we do - not wish to undertake the responsibility of sending our gallant - young men to die in obscure fights in the Balkans or in Central - Europe, or in a war we do not approve of. Moreover, the American - people do not intend to give up the Monroe Doctrine. Let civilized - Europe and Asia enforce some kind of police system in the weak and - disorderly countries at their thresholds. But let the United States - treat Mexico as our Balkan peninsula and refuse to allow European - or Asiatic powers to interfere on this continent in any way that - implies permanent or semi-permanent possession. Every one of our - Allies will with delight grant this request if President Wilson - chooses to make it, and it will be a great misfortune if it is not - made. - - “I believe that such an effort made moderately and sanely but - sincerely and with utter scorn for words that are not made good by - deeds, will be productive of real and lasting international good.” - -No one has the right to declare what Theodore Roosevelt would or would -not have done or said in connection with international problems as they -arose, after his death, but every one has the right to quote his own -words, written under his own signature, and no words could be stronger -than those in which he made his plea for America First and for sound -nationalism. But I have voluntarily gone far afield from my actual -narrative. - -Events continued to move with astounding rapidity in that autumn of -1918. My heart, like the heart of many another mother, was wrung by the -news of the terrible fighting in the Argonne Forest, and again wrung -by alternate hopes and fears as the October days drew to a close. On -the 27th day of October my brother celebrated his sixtieth birthday -under the quiet portal of his beloved home. As usual, I had sent to him -my yearly message, in which I always told him what that day meant to -me--the day when into this world, this confused, strange world that we -human beings find so difficult to understand, there came his clarifying -spirit, his magnetic personality, his great heart, ready always to help -the weak and lift the unfortunate who were trying to lift themselves. -I used to tell him that as long as he lived, no matter what my own -personal sorrows were, life would retain not only happiness but also -glamour for me. - -In answer to my birthday letter, an answer written on his very birthday -in his own handwriting, he sends me the following message. Intimate as -it is, I give it in full, for in these few short lines there seems to -breathe the whole spirit of my brother--the unswerving affection, the -immediate response to my affection, and the wish to encourage me to -face sorrows that were hard to bear by reminding me of the rare joys -which I had also tasted. The manner in which he joined his own sorrows -and joys to mine, the sweet compliment of the words which infer that -for him I still had youthfulness, and at the end the type of humor -which brought always a savor into his own life and into the lives of -those whom he closely touched, all were part of that spirit. - - Sagamore Hill, October 27, 1918. - - DARLING PUSSIE:-- - - It was dear of you to remember my birthday. Darling, after all, you - and I have known long years of happiness, and you are as young as I - am old. - - Ever yours, - METHUSALEH’S UNDERSTUDY. - - - - -XVIII - -“THE QUIET QUITTING”[C] - - For those who must journey - Henceforward alone, - Have need of stout convoy - Now Great-Heart is gone. - - --Rudyard Kipling. - - -On November 11, 1918, the armistice with Germany was signed by General -Foch. The war was over! So many years had passed since that fateful -August 1, 1914, that at first the mind of the world was not attuned to -peace. It now seemed as incomprehensible that we should be at peace -as it had seemed impossible that we should be at war. Just before the -armistice was signed the United States had proved by the ballots cast -on Election day that the request of President Wilson that a Democratic -Congress should be returned was not in accord with the wishes of the -American people. - - [C] Title of a poem written on the death of Theodore Roosevelt - by J. Fries, an old veteran of the Civil War. - -Theodore Roosevelt, in a vivid speech at Carnegie Hall just before -Election day, had defined the issues of the future in sharp, terse -sentences, and had pleaded for preparedness for peace (for the signs -of those days showed that peace was not far off), as he had pleaded -so long ago for preparedness for war. He was far from well on the -night when he made that speech, which was to prove the last that -he would ever make in the hall in which he had so often aroused his -fellow citizens to a sense of their civic and national duty. I was -ill and could not be present, but Mrs. Roosevelt told me afterward -that she had been much concerned for him, for a trouble which he -thought was sciatica in his leg was giving him intense pain. No one -would have suspected that fact, however, and many in the audience told -me afterward that that speech in Carnegie Hall was one of the most -convincing and thrilling appeals to patriotism ever made by Theodore -Roosevelt. - -A few days later, always true to his interest in the colored people, -he made an address under the auspices of the Negro Circle, and again I -was to have been present and was prevented by my condition of health. -The following week when I was better I telegraphed to Oyster Bay to -ask him, if possible, to lunch with me in New York, and to my distress -received an answer that he was not well enough to come to New York, -but would I come out and spend the night at Oyster Bay instead? When I -arrived at Sagamore Hill, I could not but feel worried to find him in -bed, and in much pain, which, however, he entirely disregarded, and we -had one of the most delightful evenings that I ever remember spending -with him. I had brought, thinking that it might interest him, Professor -William Lyon Phelps’s book on “Modern Poetry,” and during the time that -I left his room to take dinner with my sister-in-law, he had read so -much and with such avidity that I felt on my return to his bedside that -he had assimilated the whole volume. In spite of pain and politics, he -threw himself into a discussion of modern American poetry, taking up -author after author and giving me rapid criticisms or appreciations. He -took much interest in both Edgar Lee Masters and Vachel Lindsay, struck -with the masterful story-telling quality of the one and the curious -rhythmic metre of the other, and the strong Americanism of both. - -From poetry we wandered across political fields together, and he -discussed the armistice which had just been signed, and which he said -he could not but regret from the standpoint of the future. He felt -that for all the days to come it would have been better had Germany’s -army had to return to the Fatherland an insignificant and defeated -fraction of its original strength, and had the Allies entered Berlin -as victors. This opinion, although very strong, was not in any way -advanced as a criticism of the signing of the armistice, which he -appeared to feel had been inevitable. We talked until twelve o’clock -that night and I have always felt grateful to my sister-in-law for -having arranged for me to have that delightful communion with my -brother. - -There was no serious apprehension about his health when I left the -next morning, and the news that he had been taken to the hospital the -following week came as a shock and surprise to me. All through those -late November and December days, when my brother was an invalid in -Roosevelt Hospital (except for a brief thirty-six hours when he was -threatened with pneumonia, which trouble he threw off with his usual -wonderful vitality), we were not seriously apprehensive of any fatal -outcome to his ill health, and, indeed, at times during that detention -in the hospital, he gave one the impression of a man fully able to -recuperate as he had always done before. Many were the happy hours of -quiet interchange of thought and affection passed by me with my brother -in the hospital. My sister-in-law had given the order to the nurses -that I should always be admitted, and I came and went in the sick-room -daily. Sometimes he was well enough to see visitors, and lines of -people of the most varied kinds were always waiting in the corridors in -the hope of a few words with him. I remember a long talk on American -literature to which I listened between Hamlin Garland and himself, and -in the middle of December he asked me to telegraph our dear friend -Senator Lodge to ask him to come on and discuss certain political -matters with him. The senator spent two days with me, and of those two -days two whole mornings in the Colonel’s room in the hospital. I was -with them during the first morning when they discussed the tentative -League of Nations, parts of which in problematical form were already -known to the public. The different reservations, insisted upon later -by Senator Lodge, when the League in its eventual form was presented -to the Senate of the United States, were tentatively formulated at -the bedside of the Colonel. I do not mean that definite clauses in -the League were definitely discussed, but many contingencies of the -document, contingencies which later took the form of definite clauses, -_were_ discussed, and the future attitude toward such contingencies -more or less mapped out. He took great pleasure in these talks with -Senator Lodge, for, although not always in accord in some of their -political views, I know no one in whose stimulating mentality my -brother took keener pleasure; and on the fundamental issues of “America -First,” and of deep-rooted patriotism and practical service to their -country, they stood invariably as one man. - -One day--in fact, it was the last day that I sat with him in the -hospital--he seemed particularly bright and on the near road to -recovery. His left arm was still in bandages, but with his strong right -hand he gesticulated as of old, and sitting in his armchair, his eyes -clear and shining, his face ruddy and animated, he seemed to me to have -lost nothing of the vigorous and inspiring personality of earlier days. -As usual, he shared my every interest, reiterated his desire to have my -little grandson, Douglas, and his sisters pay a visit in the holidays -to Sagamore Hill, told me delightedly how he would show Douglas every -trophy in the large north room where his trophies were kept, and said -that he wanted to know all the children intimately. From family affairs -we branched off to public affairs, and speaking of the possibilities -of the future, he said he knew much depended upon his health, but that -he recognized that even amongst those who had been opposed to him in -the past, there was now a strong desire for him to be the Republican -candidate for President in 1920. Alluding to his birthday so lately -passed, he said: “Well, anyway, no matter what comes, I have kept the -promise that I made to myself when I was twenty-one.” “What promise, -Theodore?” I asked him. “You made many promises to yourself, and I am -sure have kept them all.” “I promised myself,” he said, bringing his -right fist down with emphasis on the arm of the chair, “that I would -work _up to the hilt_ until I was sixty, and I have done it. I have -kept my promise, and now, even if I should be an invalid--I should not -like to be an invalid--but even if I should be an invalid, or if I -should die [this with a snap of his finger and thumb], what difference -would it make?” “Theodore,” I said, “do you remember what you said -to me nearly a year ago when you thought you were dying in this same -hospital? You said that you were glad it was not one of your boys that -was dying at that time in this place, for _they_ could die for their -country. Do you feel the same way now?” “Yes,” he said, “just the same -way. I wish that I might, like Quentin, have died for my country.” -“I know you wish it,” I answered, “but I want to tell you something. -Every one of us--even those not as courageous, not as patriotic, as you -are--would, I feel sure, if our country were in peril, be willing to -bare our breasts to any bullet, could we, by so doing, protect and save -our country; but the trouble is that the very people who, in peril, -will give themselves, with absolute disregard of the consequences, to -their country’s service, fail, utterly, in times of peace, to sacrifice -anything whatsoever for their country’s good. The difference, Theodore, -between you and the majority of us is that you not only are willing and -anxious to _die_ for your country, but that you _live_ for your country -every day of your life.” - -Within a few days, in fact on Christmas day, he was moved to Oyster -Bay, and at first seemed benefited by the change. On Friday, January 3, -I had arranged to go out and spend the day with him, but a message came -that he was not quite as comfortable and would I wait until Monday, -when he hoped to feel much better and enjoy my visit. - -On the Sunday he seemed better again, my sister-in-law told me later, -and enjoyed the whole day. He loved, passionately, his home at Sagamore -Hill, and the view from it over the Sound on which he had rowed so -often from boyhood up. He loved the beauty of the shrubs and trees and -undulating wooded hills, and he loved best of all the sense of home -there, and the happy family life which, even with a vacant chair, he -knew would continue. He expressed his content that evening to Mrs. -Roosevelt, in whose companionship he took the same delight as when in -their youth he had brought her to be the adored mistress of that home. - -Later in the evening he did not seem quite so well and she sent for -the doctor, who, after testing him in various ways, pronounced his -condition as very satisfactory. Relieved in mind, Mrs. Roosevelt left -him in charge of his faithful attendant, James Amos, and shortly after -she went out he turned to James and said, “Put out the light.” Once -again his devoted wife came to his bedside, thinking she heard him -stir, but found him sleeping peacefully. At four o’clock James detected -a change in the breathing, and realizing that all was not well, called -the trained nurse. In a few moments, as Senator Lodge said later in -his great oration on his friend before the joint houses of Congress -in Washington, “Valiant-for-Truth passed over, and all the trumpets -sounded for him on the other side.” - - * * * * * - -That Sunday evening, just before Theodore Roosevelt told his faithful -servant to “Put out the light,” there was a meeting held in New York -under the auspices of the American Defense Society, at which he had -hoped to be present. Not able to be there in person, he sent them a -letter, and at the moment that he, at his beloved home on the hill, -closed his eyes for the last time, his faithful followers listened -to his ringing exhortation that there should be “no sagging back in -Americanism.” The youth, twenty-three years of age, as an assemblyman -at Albany had come to his native city to make his maiden address on -that theme so near his heart, and the man, whose life-work, replete -with patriotism, was drawing to a close, sent the same fervent message -in his last hours to his fellow countrymen. All his life long he had -been for those fellow countrymen “the patriotic sentinel; pacing the -parapet of the Republic, alert to danger and every menace; in love -with duty and service, and always unafraid.”--From Senator Warren G. -Harding’s address on “Theodore Roosevelt” before the Senate and House -of Ohio, late in January, 1919. - - * * * * * - -At six o’clock on that very Monday morning when I was hoping to go to -him and enjoy his dear companionship, the telephone-bell in my room -rang and my sister-in-law’s voice, gentle and self-controlled, though -vibrant with grief, told me that he was gone, and that she wanted me -to come at once to Sagamore. It was not long before my eldest son and -I were climbing the familiar hill. As we neared the house, I could -not bring myself to believe that the great personality who had always -welcomed me there had passed away. - -That afternoon Mrs. Roosevelt and I walked far and fast along the shore -and through the woodlands he had loved, and on our return in the waning -winter twilight we suddenly became conscious that airplanes were flying -low around the house. In a tone of deep emotion Mrs. Roosevelt said: -“They must be planes from the camp where Quentin trained. They have -been sent as a guard of honor for his father.” - -That night as I stood alone in the room where my brother lay, these -lines came to me--I called them “Sagamore,” that old Indian word for -which my brother cared so much. It means chief or chieftain, and -Sagamore Hill, the chieftain’s hill. - -SAGAMORE - - At Sagamore the Chief lies low-- - Above the hill in circled row - The whirring airplanes dip and fly, - A guard of honor from the sky;-- - Eagles to guard the Eagle.--Woe - Is on the world. The people go - With listless footstep, blind and slow;-- - For one is dead--who shall not die-- - At Sagamore. - - Oh! Land he loved, at last you know - The son who served you well below, - The prophet voice, the visioned eye. - Hold him in ardent memory, - For one is gone--who shall not go-- - From Sagamore! - - - - - * * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a -predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not -changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced -quotation marks retained. Apparent mis-spellings in letters written by -young children have not been changed; some are noted below. - -Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. - -Page 11: The first “a” in “Yes, S_a_rah” was printed in italics. - -Page 39: “your own expresion” was printed with one “s”; “they trie” was -printed that way. - -Page 67: “did not suceede” was printed that way. - -Page 74: “The fisrt” was printed that way. - -Page 100: The block of text labelled “[Facsimile: ]” contains the text -of a facsimile reproduced in the original book. It looks similar to a -long footnote. Within that text, the numbers preceding the species were -printed in boldface. - -Page 149: “chicadee” was printed that way. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BROTHER THEODORE ROOSEVELT*** - - -******* This file should be named 51831-0.txt or 51831-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/8/3/51831 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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- } - - blockquote {margin: 1.5em 3% 1.5em 3%;} - - .poem-container {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%;} - .poem {display: block;} - .poem .tb {text-align: left; padding-left: 2em;} - .poem .attrib {max-width: 25em; margin-right: 0;} - .poem .stanza {page-break-inside: avoid;} - - img {padding-top: 0;} - - .transnote { - page-break-inside: avoid; - margin-left: 2%; - margin-right: 2%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - padding: .5em; - } -} - - h1.pg { margin-top: 0em; } - hr.full { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, My Brother Theodore Roosevelt, by Corinne -Roosevelt Robinson</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: My Brother Theodore Roosevelt</p> -<p>Author: Corinne Roosevelt Robinson</p> -<p>Release Date: April 22, 2016 [eBook #51831]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BROTHER THEODORE ROOSEVELT***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4 class="center">E-text prepared by WebRover, Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/mybrothertheodor1921robi"> - https://archive.org/details/mybrothertheodor1921robi</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<h1 class="vspace">MY BROTHER<br /> -THEODORE ROOSEVELT</h1> - -<div id="i_frontis" class="newpage p4 figcenter" style="width: 453px;"> - <img src="images/i_000.jpg" width="453" height="600" alt="" /> - <div class="captionl"><i>From a photograph, copyright by C. Le Gendre.</i></div> - <div class="caption"> -<p>Theodore Roosevelt with his little granddaughter,<br /> -Edith Roosevelt Derby, 1918.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p class="newpage p4 center vspace wspace xxlarge"> -MY BROTHER<br /> -THEODORE ROOSEVELT</p> - -<p class="p2 center">BY<br /> -<span class="large">CORINNE ROOSEVELT ROBINSON</span></p> - -<p class="p2 center">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<p class="p2 center large vspace wspace">NEW YORK<br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -<span class="smaller">1921</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="newpage p4 center vspace"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1921, by</span><br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -Published September, 1921</p> - -<p class="p2 center small">THE SCRIBNER PRESS</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="newpage p4 center vspace wspace"> -WITH TENDER AFFECTION I DEDICATE THIS BOOK<br /> -TO MY SISTER<br /> - -<span class="larger">ANNA ROOSEVELT COWLES</span><br /> - -WHOSE UNSELFISH DEVOTION TO HER BROTHER<br /> -THEODORE ROOSEVELT<br /> -NEVER WAVERED THROUGH HIS WHOLE LIFE, AND FOR WHOM<br /> -HE HAD FROM CHILDHOOD<br /> -A DEEP AND UNSWERVING LOVE AND ADMIRATION -</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> - -<p>This Preface I write to my fellow countrymen as I give into -their hands these intimate reminiscences of my brother, Theodore -Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>A year and a half ago I was invited by the City History Club -of New York to make an address about my brother on Washington’s -Birthday. Upon being asked what I would call my speech, -I replied that as George Washington was the “Father of his -country,” as Abraham Lincoln was the “Saviour of his country,” -so Theodore Roosevelt was the “Brother of his country,” and -that, therefore, the subject of my speech would be “The Brother -of His Country.”</p> - -<p>In the same way, I feel that in giving to the public these -almost confidential personal recollections, I do so because of -the attitude of that very public toward Theodore Roosevelt. -There is no sacrilege in sharing such memories with the people -who have loved him, and whom he loved so well.</p> - -<p>This book is not a biography, it is not a political history of -the times, although I have been most careful in the effort to -record facts accurately, and carefully to search my memory -before relating conversations or experiences; it is, I hope, a -clear picture, drawn at close hand by one who, because of her -relationship to him and her intercourse with him, knew his -loyalty and tenderness of heart in a rare and satisfying way, -and had unusual opportunity of comprehending the point of -view, and therefore perhaps of clarifying the point of view, of -one of the great Americans of the day.</p> - -<p>As I have reread his letters to me, as I have dwelt upon our -long and devoted friendship—for we were even more friends than -brother and sister—his character stands out to me more strongly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii">viii</a></span> -than ever before as that of “The Great Sharer.” He shared -all that he had—his worldly goods, his strong mentality, his -wide sympathy, his joyous fun, and his tender comprehension—with -all those with whom he came in contact, and especially -with those closest and dearest to him—the members of his own -family and his sisters.</p> - -<p>In the spirit of confidence that my frankness will not be misunderstood, -I place a sister’s interpretation of a world-wide -personality in the hands of my fellow Americans.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="smcap">Corinne Roosevelt Robinson.</span> -</p> - -<p class="smaller">September, 1921.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix">ix</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr class="small"> - <td> </td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdr tight">PAGE</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Nursery and Its Deities</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#I">1</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Green Fields and Foreign Faring</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#II">34</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Dresden Literary American Club</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#III">69</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">College Chums and New-Found Leadership</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#IV">94</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Young Reformer</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#V">116</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Elkhorn Ranch and Near-Roughing It in Yellowstone Park</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#VI">135</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Two Recreant New York Policemen</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#VII">155</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cowboy and Clubman</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#VIII">164</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Rough Rider Storms the Capitol at Albany</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#IX">181</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">X.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">How the Path Led to the White House</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#X">194</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Home Life in the White House</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XI">206</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Home Life in the White House</span> (<i>Continued</i>)</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XII">236</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wall Street Hopes Every Lion Will Do Its Duty</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XIII">254</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Great Denial</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XIV">264</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Whisperings of War</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XV">276</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Do It Now</span>”</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XVI">303</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">War</span></td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XVII">323</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">The Quiet Quitting</span>”</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#XVIII">359</a></td></tr> -</table> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xi">xi</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="Illustrations"> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">Theodore Roosevelt with his little granddaughter, Edith Roosevelt Derby, 1918</td> - <td class="tdr" colspan="2"><a href="#i_frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - <tr class="small"> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdr tight" colspan="2">FACING PAGE</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., aged thirty, 1862</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_008">8</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Martha Bulloch Roosevelt, twenty-two years old, about 1856</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_008a">8</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Theodore Roosevelt, about eighteen months old, 1860</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_018">18</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Theodore Roosevelt, about four years old, 1862</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_018a">18</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Elliott Roosevelt, aged five and a half years, about 1865</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_032">32</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Corinne Roosevelt, about four years old, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_032a">32</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Theodore Roosevelt, aged seven, 1865</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_032b">32</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Corinne Roosevelt, 1869, at seven and a half years</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_046">46</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Theodore Roosevelt at ten years of age</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_046a">46</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Anna Roosevelt at the age of fifteen when she spoke of herself as one of the “three older ones”</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_046b">46</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">The Dresden Literary American Club—Motto, “W. A. N. A.” (“We Are No Asses”)</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_072">72</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Theodore Roosevelt, Oyster Bay, September 21, 1875</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_092">92</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Theodore Roosevelt, December, 1876, aged eighteen</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_092a">92</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">Portrait taken in Chicago, July, 1880, on the way to the hunting trip of that season</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_114">114</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">We had that lovely dinner on the portico at the back of the White House looking toward the Washington Monument</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_230">230</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">A review of New York’s drafted men before going into training in September, 1917</td> - <td class="tdr narrow"><a href="#if_i_332">332</a></td></tr> -</table> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace wspace"><span class="larger">MY BROTHER<br /> -THEODORE ROOSEVELT</span></h2> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="THE_STAR"></a>THE STAR<br /> - -<span class="subhead"><span class="smcap">Epiphany, 1919</span></span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great soul, to all brave souls akin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High bearer of the torch of truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you not gone to marshal in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those eager hosts of youth?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flung outward on the battle’s tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They met in regions dim and far;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you, in whom youth never died,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall lead them, as a star.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—MARION COUTHOUY SMITH. -</div></div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1">1</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><span class="larger wspace">MY BROTHER THEODORE ROOSEVELT</span></h2> - -<h2 class="nobreak p2 vspace"><a id="I"></a>I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE NURSERY AND ITS DEITIES</span></h2> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> first recollections of a child are dim and hazy, and -so the nursery at 28 East 20th Street, in New York City, -does not stand out as clearly to me as I wish it did—but -the personality of my brother overshadowed the room, as his -personality all through life dominated his environment.</p> - -<p>I suppose I must have been about four, and he about seven, -when my first memory takes definite form. My older sister, -Anna, though only four years older than my brother Theodore, -was always mysteriously classed with the “grown people,” and -the “nursery” consisted of my brother Theodore, my brother -Elliott, a year and a half younger than Theodore, and myself, -still a year and a half younger than Elliott.</p> - -<p>In those days we were “Teedie,” “Ellie,” and “Conie,” -and we had the most lovely mother, the most manly, able, and -delightful father, and the most charming aunt, Anna Bulloch, -the sister of my Southern mother, with whom children were -ever blessed.</p> - -<p>Theodore Roosevelt, whose name later became the synonym -of virile health and vigor, was a fragile, patient sufferer in those -early days of the nursery in 20th Street. I can see him now -struggling with the effort to breathe—for his enemy was that -terrible trouble, asthma—but always ready to give the turbulent -“little ones” the drink of water, book, or plaything which they -vociferously demanded, or equally ready to weave for us long -stories of animal life—stories closely resembling the jungle stories -of Kipling—for Mowgli had his precursor in the brain of the -little boy of seven or eight, whose knowledge of natural history<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2">2</a></span> -even at that early age was strangely accurate, and whose imagination -gave to the creatures of forest and field impersonations -as vivid as those which Rudyard Kipling has made immortal -for all time.</p> - -<p>We used to sit, Elliott and I, on two little chairs, near the -higher chair which was his, and drink in these tales of endless -variety, and which always were “to be continued in our next”—a -serial story which never flagged in interest for us, though sometimes -it continued from week to week, or even from month to -month.</p> - -<p>It was in the nursery that he wrote, at the age of seven, the -famous essay on “The Foregoing Ant.” He had read in Wood’s -“Natural History” many descriptions of various species of ant, -and in one instance on turning the page the author continued: -“The foregoing ant has such and such characteristics.” The -young naturalist, thinking that this particular ant was unique, -and being specially interested in its forthgoing character, decided -to write a thesis on “The Foregoing Ant,” to the reading of which -essay he called in conclave “the grown people.” One can well -imagine the tender amusement over the little author, an amusement, -however, which those wise “grown people” of 28 East -20th Street never let degenerate into ridicule.</p> - -<p>No memories of my brother could be accurate without an -analysis of the personalities who formed so big a part of our -environment in childhood, and I feel that my father, the first -Theodore Roosevelt, has never been adequately described.</p> - -<p>He was the son of Cornelius Van Shaack and Margaret -Barnhill Roosevelt, whose old home on the corner of 14th Street -and Broadway was long a landmark in New York City. Cornelius -Van Shaack Roosevelt was a typical merchant of his day, -fine and true and loyal, but ultraconservative in many ways; -and his lovely wife, to whom he addressed, later, such exquisite -poems that I have always felt that they should have been given -more than private circulation, was a Pennsylvanian of Quaker -blood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3">3</a></span> -The first Theodore Roosevelt was the youngest of five sons, -and I remember my mother used to tell me how friends of her -mother-in-law once told her that Mrs. Cornelius Van Shaack -Roosevelt was always spoken of as “that lovely Mrs. Roosevelt” -with those “<em>five horrid boys</em>.”</p> - -<p>As far as I can see, the unpleasant adjective “horrid” was -only adaptable to the five little boys from the usual standpoint -of boyish mischief, untidiness, and general youthful irrepressibleness.</p> - -<p>The youngest, my father, Theodore Roosevelt, often told -us himself how he deplored the fate of being the “fifth wheel -to the coach,” and of how many a mortification he had to endure -by wearing clothes cut down from the different shapes of -his older brothers, and much depleted shoes about which, once, -on overhearing his mother say, “These were Robert’s, but will -be a good change for Theodore,” he protested vigorously, crying -out that he was “tired of changes.”</p> - -<p>As the first Theodore grew older he developed into one of -the most enchanting characters with whom I, personally, have -ever come in contact; sunny, gay, dominant, unselfish, forceful, -and versatile, he yet had the extraordinary power of being a -focussed individual, although an “all-round” man. Nothing -is as difficult as to achieve results in this world if one is filled -full of great tolerance and the milk of human kindness. The -person who achieves must generally be a one-ideaed individual, -concentrated entirely on that one idea, and ruthless in his aspect -toward other men and other ideas.</p> - -<p>My father, in his brief life of forty-six years, achieved almost -everything he undertook, and he undertook many things, but, -although able to give the concentration which is necessary to -achievement, he had the power of interesting himself in many -things outside of his own special interests, and by the most delicate -and comprehending sympathy made himself a factor in -the lives of any number of other human beings.</p> - -<p>My brother’s great love for his humankind was a direct inheritance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4">4</a></span> -from the man who was one of the founders in his city -of nearly every patriotic, humanitarian, and educational endeavor. -I think, perhaps, the combination of the stern old -Dutch blood with the Irish blood, of which my brother always -boasted, made my father what he was—unswerving in duty, impeccable -in honesty and uprightness, and yet responsive to the -joy of life to such an extent that he would dance all night, and -drive his “four-in-hand” coach so fast that the old tradition -was “that his grooms frequently fell out at the corners”!</p> - -<p>I remember that he always gave up one day of every week -(and he was a very busy merchant and then banker) to the personal -visiting of the poor in their homes. He was not satisfied -with doing active work on many organizations, although he -did the most extraordinary amount of active organization work, -being one of the founders of the Children’s Aid Society, of the -State Aid Society, of the Sanitary Commission and Allotment -Commission in the time of the Civil War, and of the Orthopædic -Hospital, not to mention the Museum of Natural History and -the Museum of Art—but he felt that even more than this organized -effort must be the effort to get close to the hearts and -homes of those who were less fortunately situated than he.</p> - -<p>My older sister suffered from spinal trouble, and my father -was determined to leave no stone unturned to make her body -fit for life’s joys and life’s labors, and it was because of his efforts -to give his little girl health—successful efforts—that in -co-operation with his friends Howard Potter and James M. -Brown and several others he started the great work of the New -York Orthopædic Hospital, having become imbued with belief -in the methods of a young doctor, Charles Fayette Taylor. Nobody -at that time believed in treating such diseases in quite -the way in which modern orthopædy treats them now, but my -father, like his son, had the vision of things to be, and was a -leader in his way, as was my brother in his.</p> - -<p>He could not at first influence sufficient people to start the -building of a hospital, and he decided that if the New York<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5">5</a></span> -public could only <em>see</em> what the new instruments would do for the -stricken children, that it could be aroused to assist the enterprise.</p> - -<p>And so, one beautiful spring afternoon, my mother gave -what was supposed to be a purely social reception at our second -home, at 6 West 57th Street, and my father saw to it that the -little sufferers in whom he was interested were brought from -their poverty-stricken homes to ours and laid upon our dining-room -table, with the steel appliances which could help them -back to normal limbs on their backs and legs, thus ready to -visualize to New York citizens how these stricken little people -might be cured. He placed me by the table where the children -lay, and explained to me how I could show the appliances, and -what they were supposed to achieve; and I can still hear the -voice of the first Mrs. John Jacob Astor, as she leaned over one -fragile-looking child and, turning to my father, said: “Theodore, -you are right; these children must be restored and made into -active citizens again, and I for one will help you in your -work.”</p> - -<p>That very day enough money was donated to start the first -Orthopædic Hospital, in East 59th Street. Many business -friends of my father used to tell me that they feared his sudden -visits when, with a certain expression in his eyes, he would approach -them, for then before he could say anything at all they -would feel obliged to take out their pocketbooks and ask: “How -much this time, Theodore?”</p> - -<p>One of his most devoted interests was the newsboys’ lodging-house -in West 18th Street, and later in 35th Street, under the -auspices of the Children’s Aid Society. Every Sunday evening -of his life he went to that lodging-house, after our early hospitable -Sunday supper, to which many a forlorn relation or -stranded stranger in New York was always invited, and there -he would talk to the boys, giving them just such ideas of patriotism, -good citizenship, and manly morality as were the -themes of his son in later years.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6">6</a></span> -The foundational scheme of the Children’s Aid Society was, -and is, to place little city waifs in country homes, and thus give -them the chance of health and individual care, and a very dramatic -incident occurred many years after my father’s death, -when my brother, as governor of New York State and candidate -for the vice-presidency in 1900, had gone to the Far West to make -the great campaign for the second election of William McKinley. -The governors of many Western States decided to meet in the -city of Portland, Ore., to give a dinner and do honor to the -governor of the Empire State, and as Governor Roosevelt entered -the room they each in turn presented themselves to him. -The last one to come forward was Governor Brady, of Alaska, -and as he shook hands with Governor Roosevelt he said: “Governor -Roosevelt, the other governors have greeted you with -interest, simply as a fellow governor and a great American, but -I greet you with infinitely more interest, as the son of your -father, the first Theodore Roosevelt.”</p> - -<p>My brother smiled and shook him warmly by the hand, and -asked in what special way he had been interested in our father, -and he replied: “Your father picked me up from the streets in -New York, a waif and an orphan, and sent me to a Western -family, paying for my transportation and early care. Years -passed and I was able to repay the money which had given me -my start in life, but I can never repay what he did for me, for -it was through that early care and by giving me such a foster -mother and father that I gradually rose in the world, until today -I can greet his son as a fellow governor of a part of our great -country.”</p> - -<p>I was so thrilled when my brother told me this story on his -return from that campaign, that the very next Sunday evening -I begged him to go with me to the old 35th Street lodging-house -to tell the newsboys that were assembled there the story of another -little newsboy, now the governor of Alaska, to show that -there is no bar in this great, free country of ours to what personal -effort may achieve.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7">7</a></span> -My father was the most intimate friend of each of his children, -and in some unique way seemed to have the power of responding -to the need of each, and we all craved him as our most -desired companion. One of his delightful rules was that on -the birthday of each child he should give himself in some special -way to that child, and many were the perfect excursions which -he and I took together on my birthday.</p> - -<p>The day being toward the end of September was always -spent in the country, and lover as he was of fine horses, I was -always given the special treat of an all day’s adventure behind -a pair of splendid trotters. We would take the books of poetry -which we both loved and we would disappear for the whole -day, driving many miles through leafy lanes until we found the -ideal spot, where we unharnessed the horses and gave them their -dinner, and having taken our own delicious picnic lunch, would -read aloud to each other by the hour, until the early September -twilight warned us that we must be on our way homeward.</p> - -<p>In those earlier days in New York the amusements were -perhaps simpler, but the hospitality was none the less generous, -and our parents were indeed “given to hospitality.”</p> - -<p>My lovely Southern mother, of whom I will speak more -later, had inherited from her forebears a gift for hospitality, -and we young children, according to Southern customs, were -allowed to mingle more with our elders than was the case with -many New York children. I am a great believer in such mingling, -and some of the happiest friendships of our later lives were -formed with the chosen companions of our parents, but many -things were done for us individually as well. When we were -between thirteen and sixteen I remember the delightful little -Friday-evening dances which my mother and father organized -for us in 57th Street, and in which they took actual part themselves.</p> - -<p>As I said before, my father could dance all night with the -same delightful vim that he could turn to his business or his -philanthropy in the daytime, and he enjoyed our pleasures as he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8">8</a></span> -did his own. It always seems to me sad that the relationship -between father and son, or father and daughter, should not have -the quality of charm, a quality which it so often lacks, and which -I believe is largely lacking because of the failure of the older -generation to enter into the attitude of the younger generation.</p> - -<p>I was delicate at one period and could not dance as I had -always done, and I remember when I was going to a little entertainment, -just as I was leaving the house I received an exquisite -bunch of violets with a card from my father, asking me -to wear the flowers, and think of his wish that I should not overtire -myself, but also of his sympathy that I could not do quite -what I had always done.</p> - -<p>Comparatively few little girls of fourteen have had so lover-like -an attention from a father, and just such thought and tender, -loving comprehension made our relationship to our father -one of perfect comradeship, and yet of respectful adoration. -He taught us all, when very young, to ride and to swim and to -climb trees. I remember the careful way in which he would -show us dead limbs and warn us about watching out for them, -and then, having taught us and having warned us, he gave us -full liberty to try our wings and fall by the wayside should they -prove inadequate for our adventures.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div id="if_i_008" class="figleft" style="width: 360px;"> - <img src="images/i_008.jpg" width="360" height="500" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., aged thirty, -1862.</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_008a" class="figleft" style="width: 358px;"> - <img src="images/i_008a.jpg" width="358" height="500" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Martha Bulloch Roosevelt, twenty-two years -old, about 1856.</div></div> -</div></div> - -<p>After graduating from our first Shetland pony, he provided -us each with a riding-horse, and always rode with us himself, -and a merry cavalcade went forth from our country home, either -early in the morning before he started for the train or in the -soft summer evenings on his return. When at one time we were -living on the Hudson River, we had hoped one autumn afternoon -that he would come home early from the city, and great -was our disappointment when a tremendous storm came up and -we realized that he would take a later train, and that our beloved -ride must be foregone. We were eagerly waiting in the -hall for his return and watching the rain falling in torrents and -the wind blowing it in gusts, when the depot wagon drove up -to the door and my father leaped out, followed by the slight<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9">9</a></span> -figure of a somewhat younger man. As the young man tried -to put up his umbrella it blew inside out and, like a dilapidated -pinwheel loosened from his hand, ran round and round in a circle. -The unknown guest merrily chased the umbrella pinwheel, -and my mother, who had joined us children at the window, -laughingly wondered who my father’s new friend was. The -front door opened and the two dripping men came in, and we -rushed to meet them.</p> - -<p>I can see the laughing face of the young man become suddenly -shy and a little self-conscious as my father said to my -mother: “Mittie, I want to present to you a young man who -in the future, I believe, will make his name well known in the -United States. This is Mr. John Hay, and I wish the children -to shake hands with him.”</p> - -<p>Many and many a time, long, long years after, when John -Hay was secretary of state in the cabinet of the second Theodore -Roosevelt, he used to refer to that stormy autumn afternoon -when a delicate boy of eleven, at the instigation of -his father, shook hands with him and looked gravely up into -his face, wondering perhaps how John Hay was going to make -his name known throughout the United States. How little did -Mr. Hay think then that one day he would be the secretary of -state when that same little delicate boy was President of the -United States.</p> - -<p>My father’s intimacy with John Hay had come about through -the fact of contact in the Civil War, when they both worked so -hard in Washington together.</p> - -<p>My father stands out as the most dominant figure in our -early childhood. Not that my mother was not equally individual, -but her delicate health prevented her from entering into -our sports and unruly doings as our father did; but I have always -thought that she, in an almost equal degree with my father, -influenced my brother’s nature, both by her French Huguenot -and Scotch blood and her Southern ancestry.</p> - -<p>The story of her meeting with my father has a romantic flavor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10">10</a></span> -to it. My grandmother, Mrs. Stephens Bulloch, lived in an -old plantation above Atlanta, on the sand-hills of Georgia. -There, in the old white-columned house overlooking a beautiful -valley, my grandmother led a patriarchal life, the head of a large -family, for she had been as a young girl the second wife of Senator -John Elliott, and she not only brought up the children of that -marriage but the children and stepchild of her second marriage -as well. My own mother was the second daughter of Mr. and -Mrs. Stephens Bulloch, but she never knew the difference between -her Elliott half brother and sisters, her Bulloch half-brother -and her own brother and sister.</p> - -<p>In the roomy old home with its simple white columns there -was led an ideal life, and the devotion of her children to my beautiful -grandmother, as the many letters in my possession prove, -was one of the inspiring factors in their lives, and became the -same to our own childhood, for many were the loving stories -told us by my mother and aunt of the wonderful character of -their mother, who ran her Southern plantation (Mr. Bulloch -died comparatively young) with all the practical ability and -kindly supervision over her slaves characteristic of the Southern -men and women of her time.</p> - -<p>The aforesaid slaves were treated as friends of the family, -and they became to us, her little Northern grandchildren, figures -of great interest. We were never tired of hearing the stories -of “Daddy Luke” and “Mom Charlotte.”</p> - -<p>The first of these two, a magnificent Nubian, with thick -black lips and very curly hair, was the coachman and trusted -comrade of my grandmother’s children, while his wife, “Mom -Charlotte,” was a very fastidious mulatto, slender and handsome, -who, for some illogical reason, considered her mixed blood -superior to his pure dark strain. She loved him, but with a -certain amount of disdain, and though on week-days she treated -him more or less as an equal, on Sundays, when dressed in her -very best bandanna and her most elegant prayer-book in hand, -she utterly refused to have him walk beside her on the path to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11">11</a></span> -church, and obliged him ignominiously to bring up the rear with -shamefaced inferiority. Mom Charlotte on Sundays, when in -her superior mood, would look at her spouse with contempt, -and say, “B’ Luke, he nothin’ but a black nigger; he mout’ stan’ -out to de spring,” referring to Daddy Luke’s thick Nubian lips, -and pointing at the well about one hundred yards distant from -the porch.</p> - -<p>There was also a certain “little black Sarah,” who was the -foster-sister of my uncle, Irvine Bulloch, my mother’s younger -brother. In the old Southern days on such plantations there -was almost always a colored “pickaninny” to match each white -child, and they were actually considered as foster brother or -sister. Little Irvine was afraid of the darkness <em>inside</em> the house, -and little Sarah was afraid of the darkness <em>outside</em> the house, -and so the little white boy and the little black girl were inseparable -companions, each guarding the other from the imaginary -dangers of house or grounds, and each sympathetically rounding -out the care-free life of the other.</p> - -<p>My mother’s brilliant half-brother, Stewart Elliott, whose -love of art and literature and music took him far afield, spent -much of his time abroad, and when he came back to Roswell -(the name of the plantation) he was always much amused at -the quaint slave customs. One perfect moonlight night he took -his guitar into the grove near the house to sing to the group of -girls on the porch, but shortly afterward returned much disgusted -and described the conversation which he had overheard -between little white Irvine and little black Sarah on the back -porch. It ran as follows, both children gazing up into the sky: -<em>Sarah</em>: “Sonny, do you see de Moon?” “Yes, S<em>a</em>rah, it do -crawl like a worrum.” The moon at the moment was performing -the feat which Shelley poetically described as gliding, “glimmering -o’er its fleecelike floor.” The young musician could -not stand the proximity of such masters of simile as were Irvine -and Sarah, and demanded that they should be forbidden the -back porch on moonlight nights from that time forth!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12">12</a></span> -There was also another young slave who went by the name -of “Black Bess,” and was the devoted companion of her two -young mistresses, Martha, my mother, and her sister, Anna -Bulloch. She slept on a mat at the foot of their beds and rendered -the devoted services that only the slave of the old plantation -days ever gave to his or her mistress. My mother used -to accompany her mother on her visits to all the outlying little -huts in which the various negroes lived, and she often told us -the story of a visit one day to “Mom Lucy’s” little home, where -a baby had just been born.</p> - -<p>Mom Lucy had had several children, none of whom had -lived but a few hours, and when my grandmother and her little -daughter visited the new baby, now about a week old, the mother, -still lying on her couch, looked up at my grandmother and said: -“Ole Miss, I jus’ done name her.” “And what have you named -her, Lucy?” asked my grandmother; “she is a fine baby and -I am so glad you are going to have the comfort of her all your -life.” “Oh!” said the colored woman sadly, “I don’t ’spec’ -her to live, dey ain’t none of ’em done live, and so I jus’ call her -Cumsy.” “Cumsy?” said my grandmother, “and what may -that mean, Lucy?” “Why, ole Miss, don’t you understan’? -Dey all done go to deir heavenly home, and so I jus’ call dis one -‘Come-see-de-world-and-go,’ and my ole man and me we is goin’ -to call her ‘Cumsy’ for short.”</p> - -<p>My grandmother tried to argue Lucy out of this mortuary -cognomen, but with no effect, and years afterward when my -mother revisited Roswell as Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, one of -the first negroes to greet her was “Come-see-the-world-and-go!”</p> - -<p>All these stories of the old plantation were fascinating to -the children of the nursery in 20th Street, and we loved to hear -how the brothers and sisters in that old house played and worked, -for they all did their share in the work of the household. There -the beautiful half-sister of my mother, Susan Elliott, brought -her Northern lover, Hilborne West, of Philadelphia, whose sister, -Mary West, had shortly before married Weir Roosevelt, of New<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13">13</a></span> -York, the older brother of my father, Theodore Roosevelt. This -same Hilborne West, a young physician of brilliant promise, -adored the informal, fascinating plantation life, and loved the -companionship of the two dainty, pretty girls of fourteen and -sixteen, Martha and Anna Bulloch, his fiancée’s young half-sisters.</p> - -<p>Many were the private theatricals and riding-parties, and -during that first gay visit Doctor West constantly spoke of his -young connection by marriage, Theodore Roosevelt, who he -felt would love Roswell as he did.</p> - -<p>A year afterward, inspired by the stories of Doctor West, -my father, a young man of nineteen, asked if he might pay a -visit at the old plantation, and there began the love-affair with -a black-haired girl of fifteen which later was to develop into -so deep a devotion that when the young Roosevelt, two years -later, returned from a trip abroad and found this same young -girl visiting her sister in Philadelphia, he succumbed at once -to the fascination from which he had never fully recovered, and -later travelled once more to the old pillared house on the sand-hills -of Georgia, to carry Martha Bulloch away from her Southern -home forever.</p> - -<p>I cannot help quoting from letters from Martha Bulloch -written in July, 1853, shortly after her engagement, and again -from Martha Roosevelt a little more than a year later, when -she revisits her old home. She had been hard to win, but when -her lover leaves Roswell at the end of his first visit, immediately -following their engagement, she yields herself fully and writes:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright">Roswell, July 26, 1853.</p> - -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">Thee, Dearest Thee</span>:</p> - -<p>I promised to tell you if I cried when you left me. I had -determined not to do so if possible, but when the dreadful feeling -came over me that you were, indeed, gone, I could not help -my tears from springing and had to rush away and be alone with -myself. Everything now seems associated with you. Even<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14">14</a></span> -when I run up the stairs going to my own room, I feel as if you -were near, and turn involuntarily to kiss my hand to you. I -feel, dear Thee,—as though you were part of my existence, and -that I only live in your being, for now I am confident of my own -deep love. When I went in to lunch today I felt very sad, for -there was no one now to whom to make the request to move -“just a quarter of an inch farther away”—but how foolish I -am,—you will be tired of this “rhapsody....”</p> - -<p>Tom King has just been here to persuade us to join the Brush -Mountain picnic tomorrow. We had refused but we are reconsidering.</p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright">July 27th, ——</p> - -<p>We have just returned after having had a most delightful -time. It was almost impossible for our horses to keep a foothold, -the Mountain was so steep, but we were fully repaid by -the beautiful extended view from the top, and when we descended, -at the bottom, the gentlemen had had planks spread -and carriage cushions arranged for us to rest, and about four -o’clock we had our dinner. Such appetites! Sandwiches, -chicken wings, bread and cheese disappeared miraculously.</p> - -<p>Tom had a fire built and we had nice hot tea and about six -o’clock we commenced our return. I had promised to ride back -with Henry Stiles, so I did so, and you cannot imagine what a -picturesque effect our riding party had,—not having any Habit, -I fixed a bright red shawl as a skirt and a long red scarf on my -head, turban fashion with long ends streaming. Lizzie Smith -and Anna dressed in the same way, and we were all perfectly -wild with spirits and created quite an excitement in Roswell by -our gay cavalcade—But all the same I was joked all day by -everybody, who said that they could see that my eyes were -swollen and that I had been crying.</p></blockquote> - -<p>All this in a very delicate Italian hand, and leaving her lover, -I imagine, a little jealous of “Henry Stiles,” in spite of the -“rhapsody” at the beginning of the letter!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15">15</a></span> -My father’s answer to that very letter is so full of deep joy -at the “rhapsody,” in which his beautiful and occasionally capricious -Southern sweetheart indulged, that I do not think he -even remembered “Henry Stiles,” for he replies to her as follows:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright">New York, August 3rd.</p> - -<p>How can I express to you the pleasure which I received -in reading your letter! I felt as you recalled so vividly to my -mind the last morning of our parting, the blood rush to my temples; -and I had, as I was in the office, to lay the letter down, -for a few minutes to regain command of myself. I had been -hoping against hope to receive a letter from you, but <em>such</em> a letter! -O, Mittie, how deeply, how devotedly I love you! Do continue -to return my love as ardently as you do now, or if possible love -me more. I know my love for you merits such return, and do, -dear little Mittie, continue to write, (when you feel moved to!) -just such “rhapsodies.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>On December 3, 1853, very shortly before her wedding, -Martha Bulloch writes another letter, and in spite of her original -“rhapsody,” and her true devotion to her lover, one can -see that she has many girlish qualms, for she writes him: “I -do dread the time before our wedding, darling—and I wish that -it was all up and that I had died game!”</p> - -<p>A year and a half later, May 2, 1855, Martha Roosevelt is -again at the home of her childhood, this time with her little baby, -my older sister, Anna, and her husband has to leave her, and -she writes again:</p> - -<p>“I long to hear you say once again that you love me. I -know you do but still I would like to have a fresh avowal. You -have proved that you love me dear, in a thousand ways and -still I long to hear it again and again. It will be a joyful day -when we meet again. I feel as though I would never wish to -leave your side again. You know how much I enjoy being with -mother and Anna, but all the same I am only waiting until<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16">16</a></span> -‘Thee’ comes, for you can hardly imagine what a <em>wanting</em> feeling -I have when you are gone.</p> - -<p>“Mother is out in the entry talking to one of the ‘Crackers.’ -While I was dressing mother brought in a sweet rose and I have -it in my breast pin. I have picked one of the leaves off just -this moment and send it to you—for Thee—the roses are out -in beautiful profusion and I wish you could see them....”</p> - -<p>A year and a half in the cold North had not dimmed the -ardor of affection between the young couple.</p> - -<p>We children of the nursery in 28 East 20th Street loved -nothing better than to make my mother and aunt tell us the -story of the gay wedding at the old home near Atlanta. I remember -still the thrill of excitement with which I used to listen -to the details of that wonderful week before the wedding when -all the bridesmaids and ushers gathered at the homestead, and -every imaginable festivity took place.</p> - -<p>One of my mother’s half-brothers had just returned from -Europe, and fell in love at first sight with one of her beautiful -bridesmaids, already, alas! engaged to another and much older -man, not a member of the wedding-party. My child’s heart -suffered unwarranted pangs at the story of the intense attraction -of these two young people for each other, and I always felt -that I could see the lovely bridesmaid riding back with the man -to whom she had unwittingly given her heart, under the Southern -trees dripping with hanging moss. The romantic story -ended tragically in an unwilling marriage, a duel, and much -that was unfortunate.</p> - -<p>But my mother and my father had no such complications -in their own lives, and the Southern girl who went away with -her Northern lover never regretted that step, although much -that was difficult and troublous came into their early married -life because of the years of war from 1861 to 1865, when Martha -Bulloch’s brothers fought for the South and Theodore Roosevelt -did splendid and unselfish work in upholding the principles -for which the North was giving its blood and brawn.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17">17</a></span> -The fighting blood of James Dunwoody and Irvine Bulloch -was the same blood infused through their sister into the veins -of their young kinsman, the second Theodore Roosevelt, and -showed in him the same glowing attributes. The gallant attitude -of their mother, Mrs. Stephens Bulloch, also had its share -in the making of her famous grandson.</p> - -<p>Her son Irvine was only a lad of sixteen, while her stepson, -James, was much older and was already a famous naval blockade-runner -when she parted from them. Turning to her daughter -Anna she prayed that she might never live to know if Irvine -were killed or Richmond taken by the Northern army. I cannot -but rejoice that her life passed away before such news could -come to her. It must have been bitter, indeed, for her under -these circumstances to face the necessity of accepting the bread -of her Northern son-in-law, and it speaks volumes for the -characters of both that during the whole war there was never -a moment of estrangement between them or between my -father and his lovely sister-in-law, Anna Bulloch, who became, -because of the fact that she lived with us during those -early years of our lives, one of the most potent influences of our -childhood.</p> - -<p>I, myself, remember nothing of the strain of those troubled -days; but my aunt has often told me of the bedtime hour in -the nursery when a certain fair-haired, delicate little boy, hardly -four years old, would kneel at her side to say his evening prayer, -and feeling that she would not dare interrupt his petition to -the Almighty, would call down in baby tones and with bent -head the wrath of the Almighty upon the rebel troops. She -said that she could never forget the fury in the childish voice -when he would plead with Divine Providence to “grind the -Southern troops to powder.”</p> - -<p>This same lovely aunt taught us our letters at her knee, in -that same nursery, having begged, in return for my father’s hospitality, -that she should be accepted as our first instructress, -and not only did she teach us the three R’s, but many and many<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18">18</a></span> -a delightful hour was passed in listening to her wonderful renderings -of the “Br’er Rabbit” stories.</p> - -<p>Both my aunt and my mother had but little opportunity -for consecutive education, but they were what it seems to me -Southern women ever are—natural women of the world, and -yet they combined with a perfect readiness to meet all situations -an exquisite simplicity and sensitive sympathy, rarely -found in the women of the North. This sensitiveness was not -only evidenced in their human relationships but in all pertaining -to art and literature. I have often said that they were -natural connoisseurs.</p> - -<p>I remember that my father would never buy any wine until -my mother had tasted it, and experts of various kinds came to -her in the same way for expressions of her opinion. She was very -beautiful, with black, fine hair—not the dusky brunette’s coarse -black hair, but fine of texture and with a glow that sometimes -seemed to have a slightly russet shade, what her French hair-dresser -called “noir doré,” and her skin was the purest and most -delicate white, more moonlight-white than cream-white, and -in the cheeks there was a coral, rather than a rose, tint. She -was considered to be one of the most beautiful women of the -New York of her day, a reputation only shared by Mrs. Gardiner -Howland, and to us, her children, and to her devoted husband -she seemed like an exquisite “objet d’art,” to be carefully and -lovingly cherished. Her wit, as well as that of my aunt, was -known by all her friends and yet it was never used unkindly, -for she had the most loving heart imaginable, and in spite of -this rare beauty and her wit and charm, she never seemed to -know that she was unusual in any degree, and cared but little -for anything but her own home and her own children. Owing -to delicate health she was not able to enter into the active life -of her husband and children, and therefore our earliest memories, -where our activities were concerned, turn to my father and -my aunt, but always my mother’s gracious loveliness and deep -devotion wrapped us round as with a mantle.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div id="if_i_018" class="figleft" style="width: 380px;"> - <img src="images/i_018.jpg" width="365" height="500" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Theodore Roosevelt, about eighteen -months old, 1860.</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_018a" class="figleft" style="width: 366px;"> - <img src="images/i_018a.jpg" width="366" height="500" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Theodore Roosevelt, about four years -old, 1862.</div></div> -</div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19">19</a></span> -And so these were the three Deities of the Nursery in which -Theodore Roosevelt spent his first years, and even at that early -time they realized that in that simple room in the house which -the patriotic women of America are about to restore as a mecca -for the American people there dwelt a unique little personality -whose mentality grasped things beyond the ken of other boys -of his age, and whose gallant spirit surmounted the physical -difficulties engendered by his puny and fragile body.</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>The nursery at 28 East 20th Street in the early years of the -Civil War missed its chief deity, my father. From the letters -exchanged by my mother and father, preserved by each of them, -I have formed a clear realization of what it meant to that nursery -to lose for almost two years the gay and vigorous personality -who always dominated <em>his</em> environment as did later his son.</p> - -<p>Mr. William E. Dodge, in a very beautiful letter written -for the memorial meeting of the Union League Club in February, -1878, just after my father’s death, gave the following interesting -account of my father’s special work in the Civil War. This -letter was read after an eloquent speech delivered by Mr. Joseph -H. Choate. The part of the letter to which I especially refer -ran as follows:</p> - -<p>“When the shadows of the coming war began to grow into -a reality he (Theodore Roosevelt) threw himself with all his -heart and soul into work for the country.</p> - -<p>“From peculiar circumstances he was unable to volunteer -for military service, as was his wish, but he began at once to -develop practical plans of usefulness to help those who had gone -to the front.</p> - -<p>“He became an active worker on the Advisory Board of the -Woman’s Central Association of Relief, that wonderful and -far-reaching organization of patriotic women out of which grew -the Sanitary Commission.</p> - -<p>“He worked with the ‘Loyal Publication Society,’ which, -as many of our members know, was a most active and useful<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20">20</a></span> -educating power in the days when there was great ignorance as -to the large issues of the conflict.</p> - -<p>“He joined enthusiastically in the organization of the Union -League Club, was for years a most valued member of its executive -committees and aided in the raising and equipment of the -first colored troops.</p> - -<p>“His great practical good sense led him to see needs which -escaped most other minds. He felt that the withdrawal from -the homes of so many enlisted men would leave great want in -many sections of the country. He saw the soldiers were more -than amply clothed and fed, and their large pay wasted mostly -among the sutlers, and for purposes which injured their health -and efficiency. So with two others he drafted a bill for the appointment -of Allotment Commissioners, who without pay should -act for the War Department and arrange to send home to needy -families, without risk or cost, the money not needed in the camps. -For three months they worked in Washington to secure the passage -of this act—delayed by the utter inability of Congressmen -to understand why anyone should urge a bill from which no one -could selfishly secure an advantage.</p> - -<p>“When this was passed he was appointed by President Lincoln -one of the three Commissioners from this State. For long, -weary months, in the depth of a hard winter, he went from -camp to camp, urging the men to take advantage of this plan.</p> - -<p>“On the saddle often six to eight hours a day, standing in -the cold and mud as long, addressing the men and entering their -names.</p> - -<p>“This resulted in sending many millions of dollars to homes -where it was greatly needed, kept the memory of wives and children -fresh in the minds of the soldiers, and greatly improved -their morale. Other States followed, and the economical results -were very great.</p> - -<p>“Towards the close of the war, finding the crippled soldiers -and the families of those who had fallen were suffering for back -pay due and for pensions, and that a race of greedy and wicked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21">21</a></span> -men were taking advantage of their needs to plunder them, he -joined in organizing the Protective War-Claim Association, -which without charge collected these dues. This saved to the -soldiers’ families more than $1,000,000 of fees.</p> - -<p>“He also devised and worked heartily in the Soldiers’ Employment -Bureau, which found fitting work for the crippled men -who by loss of limb were unfitted for their previous occupations. -This did wonders toward absorbing into the population of the -country those who otherwise would have been dependent, and -preserved the self-respect of the men. I believe it did more -and vastly better work than all the ‘Soldiers’ homes’ combined. -For the work in the Allotment Commission he received the special -and formal thanks of the State in a joint resolution of the -Legislature.”</p> - -<p>Nothing was more characteristic of my father’s attitude -toward life than his letters during this period to my mother. -He realized fully that in leaving his young family he was putting -upon his youthful and delicate wife—whose mental suffering -during the war must have been great, owing to the fact of her -being a Southerner—her full share of what was difficult in the -situation. He writes with the utmost frankness of his wish -that she might look on the great question of which the war was -a symptom from the same standpoint as his, but the beautiful -love and trust which existed between them was such that in -all these letters which passed so constantly during my father’s -labors as Allotment Commissioner, there was never the slightest -evidence of hurt feelings or friction of any kind.</p> - -<p>In the early fall of 1861 he was struggling to have passed -by Congress the bill to appoint Allotment Commissioners, and -spent weary days in Washington to achieve that purpose. When -the bill was passed and he and Mr. William E. Dodge and Mr. -Theodore Bronson were appointed as the three commissioners, -he threw himself with all the ardor and unselfishness of his magnificent -nature into the hard work of visiting the camps in mid-winter, -and persuading the reluctant soldiers to believe that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22">22</a></span> -was their duty to allot a certain portion of their pay to their -destitute families.</p> - -<p>He writes on January 1, 1862:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>I have stood on the damp ground talking to the troop and -taking their names for six hours at a time. One of the regiments -that I visited last, which is wretchedly officered and composed -of the scum of our city, seemed for the first time even to recall -their families. We had an order from the General of Division, -and the Colonel sent his adjutant to carry out our desires. He -came, dirty and so drunk that he could not speak straight, and -of course got the orders wrong. All the officers seem to be <em>in</em> -with the sutler while the private said he was an unmitigated -thief. The delays were so great that I stood out with one of -these companies after seven o’clock at night, with one soldier -holding a candle while I took down the names of those who desired -to send money home. The men looked as hard as I have -often seen such men look in our Mission neighborhood, but after -a little talking and explaining my object and reminding them of -those they had left behind them, one after another put down -his name, and from this company alone, they allotted, while -I was there, $600.00. This would be increased afterwards by -the officers, if they were decent ones, and other men absent on -guard and through other reasons. I could not help thinking -what a subject for a painting it would make as I stood out there -in the dark night, surrounded by the men with one candle just -showing glimpses of their faces,—tents all around us in the woods. -One man, after putting down five dollars a month, said suddenly: -“My old woman has always been good to me, and if you please, -change it to ten.” In a moment, half a dozen others followed -his example and doubled their allotments.</p> - -<p>I enclose a letter for Teedie [Theodore]. Do take care of -yourself and the dear little children while I am away, and remember -to enjoy yourself just as much as you can. [This -sentence is so like my father. Duty was always paramount,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23">23</a></span> -but joy walked hand in hand with duty whenever it legitimately -could.]</p> - -<p>I do not want you not to miss me, but remember that I would -never have felt satisfied with myself after this war is over if I -had done nothing, and that I do feel now that I am only doing -my duty. I know you will not regret having me do what is -right, and I do not believe you will love me any the less for it.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l8">Yours as ever,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Theodore Roosevelt</span>. -</p></blockquote> - -<p>This particular letter is very characteristic of the father of -President Roosevelt—a man of the qualities which his country -has grown to associate with its beloved “Colonel.” In my -brother’s case they were the direct inheritance from the man who -stood out knee-deep in mud using his wonderful personality -to make those hard-faced drafted men remember their own -people at home, and at the same time writes to the lovely mother -of his children to try and enjoy herself as much as possible in -his absence.</p> - -<p>My mother’s answers to my father’s letters were very loving. -Alone, and delicate, she never dwells on loneliness or ill -health, but tells him the dear details of the home he loved so -well. On January 8, 1862, she writes: “Teedie came down stairs -this morning looking rather sad, and said ‘I feel badly—I have -a tooth ache in my stomach.’—later he asked if ‘Dod’ (God) was -a fox?!—this after being shown a picture of a very clever looking -fox! He is the most affectionate and endearing little creature -in his ways.” One can well imagine how the lonely father, doing -his distant and gruelling duty, treasured the dainty letters full -of quaint stories of childish sayings. In another and later missive -there is a description of a birthday supper-party in which -“Teedie” is host to his cousins; it runs as follows: “Teedie, -the host, was too busy with his chicken and potatoes to converse -much, but as soon as he finished he made the sage remark -that he ‘loved chicken, roast beef and everything that was good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24">24</a></span> -better than salt water.’ This speech occasioned a roar of -laughter, and was evidently thought very witty. Teedie, too, -seemed to be under the false impression that it was clever. He -seemed to be inflated with vanity for some time afterwards!” -How gladly the tired man, after long days in the saddle, and -evenings of effort with sullen soldiers, must have turned to just -such humorous accounts of the small boy who always said or -did something quaint, which lost nothing in the picture drawn -by the facile pen of his mother.</p> - -<p>Theodore Roosevelt writes his wife again in January, 1862, -a letter interesting because of his attitude toward the German -regiments. He says:</p> - -<p>“We are continually at work now, and to-day saw three -regiments, but even at this rate, it will be long before I see you -again. They were all Germans to-day—a motley crew, having -few friends and frequently no characters. We had been told -that we ran the risk of our lives by going to these regiments, and -much more nonsense of the same kind, but the only risk we -ran has been from starvation. We were out talking to the men -until very late, and then found a German dinner which Dodge -could eat nothing of but the brown bread. He wanted to be -polite, however, and I was much amused with his statement -that he would ride five miles to get such bread, which was -literally a fact, however, I have no doubt, in his state of starvation.</p> - -<p>“The men, as Germans always do, took time to consider, -and we left them to describe the allotment idea to other persons. -However, after due consideration, a fair number sent -money home. These Germans were generally of the lowest characters, -and with the exception of one regiment disappointed me, -although I have no doubt they will fight well. There are some -12,000 of them.</p> - -<p>“This morning I saw that our efforts are noticed in <cite>The World</cite> -and <cite>The Tribune</cite>. You have seen, I suppose, that we have been -mentioned several times in <cite>The Times</cite>. This is particularly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25">25</a></span> -satisfying as the papers threatened once to be down on us, which -would lose for us the confidence of the soldiers.”</p> - -<p>The letters all give vivid accounts of his experiences, differing -in interest. He speaks of General Wadsworth, the grandfather -of our present United States senator, and says that the -general “helped to make my bed when I spent one night with -his division.”</p> - -<p>In an interim of work, on February 7, he writes of his invitation -to Mrs. Lincoln’s ball, at which he says he had a delightful -time.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Lincoln in giving the Ball, stated that she gave it as -a piece of economy in war time, and included those diplomats, -senators, congressmen and others, that it had been previously -the habit to invite at a number of formal dinners. No -one lower in the army than the Division General,—not even a -Brigadier, had an invitation to the Ball, and of course there -was much grumbling and a proportionate amount of envy. Some -complained of the supper, but I have rarely seen a better, and -often a worse one. Terrapin, birds, ducks, and everything else -in great profusion when I was in the dining room, although some -complained of the delay in getting into the room, as we went -in parties.</p> - -<p>“I spent all of yesterday kicking my heels in the ante-room -of the Secretary of War, and in making out an order for him -which he promised to sign and afterwards refused. [How history -repeats itself!] I was with him about two hours, altogether, -and received any number of the highest kind of compliments, -but I wanted a more important proof of his good -feeling which I did not get. I still hope that I may get it -through the President.”</p> - -<p>On February 12, 1862, comes this description of the delightful -visit to Newport News and he says:</p> - -<p>“All the officers received us in such a hospitable spirit and -the weather assisted in making our stay agreeable. I passed -two of the pleasantest days that I have enjoyed when away from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26">26</a></span> -home. General Mansfield suggested some practice with the -parrot gun, and one of those sad accidents occurred, for a gun -burst and two men were killed.</p> - -<p>“We have been treated like princes here. The steamboat -was put at our disposal and when, through a misunderstanding, -it left before we were on board, another one was immediately -sent with us. I enclose several things to keep for me.”</p> - -<p>Amongst the enclosures was a note which is sufficiently interesting -to give in facsimile.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON</p> - -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">Mr. Rosevalt.</span></p> - -<p><i>Dear Sir</i>:</p> - -<p>I very much regretted that a severe headache confined me -to my room on yesterday, this morning I find we are expected -to hold a noon reception which will be over by three and a half -o’clock at which time I will be very happy to have you -ride with us.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l6">Very truly yours</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Mrs. A. Lincoln</span>. -</p></blockquote> - -<p>This quaint missive reminds me of the fact of my father’s -kindly tolerance of “Mrs. A. Lincoln’s” little peculiarities. I -remember how he used to tell us, when occasionally he was invited, -as this letter says, to “ride” with her, that he would also -be invited to stop at the shop where she bought her bonnets, -and give his advice on which bonnet was especially becoming!</p> - -<p>In an earlier letter, after referring to an interview with Secretary -Stanton, he speaks of his apparent decision of character. -But he was disappointed when he could not, in the beginning, -make the secretary take his point of view about the Allotment -Commission. Later, however, he received the full support of -Secretary Stanton.</p> - -<div id="if_i_027" class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> - <img src="images/i_027.jpg" width="418" height="600" class="bbox tight" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><span class="smcap">AN INVITATION FROM THE WIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN TO -THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Sr.</span></div></div> - -<p>In a letter dated February 5 he speaks of “justified pleasure” -as follows:</p> - -<p>“I find that only about six men under fifty [he himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27">27</a><a class="hidev" id="Page_28">28</a></span> -was only twenty-nine] are invited to the President’s to-night, -and I have determined to go for a short time, at least. There -will be the largest collection of notables there ever gathered in -this country, and it would probably be a sight worth remembering.”</p> - -<p>Under date of Washington, February 14, he writes again:</p> - -<p>“I have so many acquaintances here now that I could easily -find a temporary companion. Hay [John Hay] is going with -me to Seward’s to-night, and I am hoping to procure the pass -for your mother. [My grandmother was most anxious to get -back to her own people in the South]. In Baltimore I saw, -or fancied I saw, on the faces of our class of the inhabitants, -their feelings in consequence of the news just received of the -taking of Roanoke Island. They looked very blue. The sutlers -here are serious obstacles in getting allotments. As soon -as <em>we</em> see a Regiment and persuade the men to make allotments, -<em>they</em> send around an agent to dissuade them from signing their -names, convincing them that it is a swindle because <em>they</em> want -the money to be spent in Camp and go into their pockets instead -of being sent home to the poor families of the men, who -are in such want.</p> - -<p>“I enclose you a flower from the bouquet on the table of -the Executive Mansion. Also a piece of silk from an old-fashioned -piano cover in Arlington House.”</p> - -<p>As I opened the letter, the flower fell to dust in my hands, -but the little piece of green silk, faded and worn, had evidently -been treasured by my mother as being a relic of Arlington House.</p> - -<p>On February 27, 1862, his stay in Washington was drawing -to a close, and my father regretted, as so many have done, that -he had not kept a diary of his interesting experiences. He writes -on September 27:</p> - -<p>“All those whom I have seen here in Washington in social -intercourse day by day will be characters in history, and it would -be pleasant to look over a diary hereafter of my own impressions -of them, and recall their utterly different views upon the policy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29">29</a></span> -which should be pursued by the Government. I have rarely -been able to leave my room in the evening, for it has been so -filled with visitors, but I have not felt the loss of liberty from the -fact that those who were my guests I would have taken a great -deal of trouble to see, and never could have seen so informally -and pleasantly anywhere except in my own room.</p> - -<p>“It has, of course, been more my duty to entertain those -whose hospitality I was daily receiving, in the camps, by invitations -to drop in during the evening; all of these are striving -to make their marks as statesmen, and some, I am sure, we will -hear from hereafter.”</p> - -<p>On March 1, 1862, he says:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>We have all been in a state of excitement for some days -past, caused by movements in the Army foreshadowing a general -battle. The snow which is now falling fast, has cast a -damper over all our spirits.... Several of the Generals have -stated to me their belief that the war, as far as there was any -necessity for so large an army, would be closed by some time in -May,—probably the first of May. If so, my work will be all -over when I return to New York, and I can once more feel that -I have a wife and children, and enjoy them.</p> - -<p>It is Sunday afternoon, and I have a peculiar longing to -see you all again, the quiet snow falling outside, my own feelings -being very sad and that of those around being in the same condition -makes me turn to my own quiet fireside for comfort. I -wish we sympathized together on this question of so vital moment -to our country, but I know you cannot understand my -feelings, and of course I do not expect it.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="smcap"><span class="l4">Your Loving Husband Who Wants</span><br /> -Very Much to See You.</span> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>One can well imagine the note of sadness in the strong young -man who had relinquished his urgent desire to bear arms because -of the peculiar situation in which he found himself, but who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30">30</a></span> -gave all his time and thought and physical endurance to the -work vitally needed, and which he felt he could have handled -better with the sympathy of his young wife, whose anxiety -about her mother and brothers was so poignant and distressing. -Never, however, in the many letters exchanged between -the parents of my brother, Theodore Roosevelt, was there one -word which was calculated to make less possible the close family -love and the great respect for each other’s feelings.</p> - -<p>In the last letter quoted above, one feels again that history -does indeed repeat itself, when one thinks that it was written -in March, 1862, and that those “generals” of whom my father -speaks were expecting that no large army would be needed after -May 1 of that year, when in reality the long agony of civil -war was to rack our beloved country for nearly three years more. -This was proven shortly after to my father, and in the following -October he is writing again from Baltimore, and this time in a -less wistful mood:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Since I last wrote you I have enjoyed my pleasantest experiences -as Allotment Commissioner. The weather was lovely -our horses good and Major Dix accompanied us from the Fortress -to Yorktown. It was about twenty-five miles of historic -ground passing over the same country that General McClellan -had taken his army along last spring.</p> - -<p>First comes the ruins of the little town of Hampton, then -through Big Bethel where Schanck was whipped, to the approaches -to Yorktown. There ravines have been cut through -miles of roads made, and immense breastworks thrown up by -our army.</p> - -<p>Suydam was away but the rest of General Keyes’ staff -received us most hospitably, and after dinner furnished us with -fresh horses to visit the regiments, one of their number accompanying -us.</p> - -<p>I had practise for both my French and German in the Enfans -Perdus, Colonel Comfort’s regiment and it was quite late<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31">31</a></span> -before our return. As I had broken my eyeglasses I had to -trust entirely to my horse who jumped over the ditches in a -most independent manner. We all sat up together until about -twelve except Bronson who had seemed used up all day, and -had not accompanied me to the regiments. He seemed to feel -the shock of the fall when the car ran off the track, and not to -recover from it so easily as myself.</p> - -<p>Next morning we rode another twenty-five miles to Newport -News to see the Irish Brigade. General Corcoran was -there, and accompanied us to the regiments first suggesting -Irish whiskey to strengthen us. At dinner ale was the beverage -and after dinner each Colonel seemed to have his own particular -tope. On our return they made an Irish drink called “scal thun” -and about one o’clock gave us “devilled bones.” The servant -was invited in to sing for us and furnished with drinks at odd -times by the General, who never indulged, however, himself -to excess. We then went the grand rounds with the General -at two in the morning, arrested two officers for not being at their -posts and returned at half past three, well prepared to rest quietly -after a very fatiguing day, and one of the most thoroughly Irish -nights that I ever passed.</p> - -<p>Next morning (yesterday) we had a delightful ride over -to Fortress Monroe, and had lunch at General Dix’s before leaving -in the boat.</p> - -<p>A dozen of the officers were down at the boat, and we felt -as we bid goodbye to some of them, like leaving old friends....</p> - -<p>Dearest: a few words more and I must close. Bronson has -a very bad cold and decides that he will leave me to-morrow. -If well enough he will undoubtedly call on you. Of course this -makes me doubly homesick but I must see it through.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l6">Goodbye. Yours as ever,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Theodore Roosevelt</span>. -</p></blockquote> - -<p>Again on October 18, having apparently been able to return -for a brief visit to his family, he writes from Niagara:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32">32</a></span> -“I was able to get a top berth and retired for the 31st time -in two months to spend the night on the railroad. My three -nights at home have made it hard, rather than easier, to continue -my journeys.</p> - -<p>“All our party started from Albany to Fonda, and I had -a hard day’s work for the men had been deceived by the bounty -and were suspicious about everything regarding the Allotment -Commission. The officers’ dinner was a good deal like pigs -eating at a trough. When at night three companies had not -yet been visited, I determined to do it wholesale. I had two -tents pitched and occupied one already prepared, placing a -table, candles and allotment roll in each. I then had the three -companies formed into three sides of a square and used all my -eloquence. When I had finished they cheered me vociferously. -I told them I would be better able to judge who meant the cheers -by seeing which company made most allotments. [This sentence -of my father’s makes me think so much of my brother’s -familiar “shoot; don’t shout!” when he would receive vociferous -cheers for any advice given.] I thus raised the spirit of competition -and those really were the best that I had taken during -the day. By eight o’clock we found our work done, dark as -pitch, and rain descending in torrents, but still the work was -done.”</p> - -<p>These letters give, I think, a vivid picture of my father’s -persistence and determined character, and the quality of “getting -there,” which was so manifestly the quality of his son as well, -and at the same time the power of enjoyment, the natural affiliation -with his humankind, and always the thoughtfulness -and consideration for his young wife left with her little charges -at home.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div id="if_i_032" class="figleft" style="width: 223px;"> - <img src="images/i_032.jpg" width="223" height="400" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Elliott Roosevelt, aged five and -a half years, about 1865.</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_032a" class="figleft" style="width: 244px;"> - <img src="images/i_032a.jpg" width="244" height="400" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Corinne Roosevelt, about four years -old, 1865.</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_032b" class="figleft" style="width: 226px;"> - <img src="images/i_032b.jpg" width="226" height="400" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Theodore Roosevelt, aged seven, -1865.</div></div> -</div></div> - -<p>In that same home the spirit of the war permeated through -the barriers of love raised around the little children of the nursery, -and my aunt writes of the attitude of the small, yellow-haired -boy into whose childish years came also the distant din -of battle, arousing in him the military spirit which even at four<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33">33</a></span> -years of age had to take some expression. She says: “Yesterday -Teedie was really excited when I said to him that I must -fit his zouave suit. His little face flushed up and he said, ‘Are -me a soldier laddie too?’ and when I took his suggestion and -said, ‘Yes and I am the Captain,’ he was willing to stand for a -moment or two to be fitted.” Even then Theodore Roosevelt -responded to his country’s call, and equally to the discipline of -the superior officer!</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34">34</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="II"></a>II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">GREEN FIELDS AND FOREIGN FARING</span></h2> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">From</span> the nursery in 20th Street my early memories turn -with even greater happiness to the country place which -my parents rented at Madison, N. J., called Loantaka, -where we spent several summers. There the joy of a sorrel -Shetland pony became ours—(Pony Grant was his name)—a -patriotic effort to commemorate the name of the great general, -still on the lips of every one, whose indomitable will and military -acumen had at that very moment been the chief factor in -bringing the Civil War to a close. I, however, labored under -the delusion that he, the general, was named after the pony, -which seemed to me at the time much the more important of -the two personalities. The four-legged Grant was quite as determined -and aggressive as his two-legged namesake, and he -never allowed any of us to be his master. When my father -first had him brought to the front door of the country home at -Madison, I shall never forget the thrill of excitement in the -breasts of the three little children of the nursery. “Who will -jump on his back?” called out my father gaily.</p> - -<p>It has always been the pride of my life that, although I was -only about four years old, I begged for the privilege before the -“boys” were quite ready to decide whether to dare the ferocious -glance in his dark eyes. Owing to my temerity he was presented -to me, and from that time on was only a loan to my brothers. -Each in turn, however, we would climb on his back, and each -in turn would be repeatedly thrown over his head, but having -shown his ability to eject, he would then, satisfied by thus proving -his superiority, become gentle as a really gentle lamb. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35">35</a></span> -qualify my reference to lambs, remembering well the singularly -<em>ungentle</em> lamb which later became a pet also in the family.</p> - -<p>In those country days before the advent of the motor, the -woods and lanes of New Jersey were safe haunts for happy -childhood, and we were given much liberty, and, accompanied -by our two little cousins from Savannah, John and Maud Elliott, -who spent those two summers with us, having suffered greatly -from the devastating war, we roamed at will, leading or riding -our pony, playing endless games, or making believe we were -Indians—always responsive to some story of Theodore’s which -seemed to cast a glamour around our environment.</p> - -<p>I can still feel the somewhat uncanny thrill with which I -received the suggestion that a large reddish stain on a rock in -the woods near by was the blood of a white girl, lately killed -by the chief of the Indian tribe, to which through many mysterious -rites we were supposed to belong. I remember enticing -there in the twilight our very Hibernian kitchen-maid, and -taking delight in her shrieks of terror at the sight of the so-called -blood.</p> - -<p>My brother always felt in later years, and carried the feeling -into practice with his own children, that liberty in the summer-time, -for a certain period at least, stimulated greatly the -imagination of a child. To rove unhampered, to people the -surroundings with one’s own creations, to watch the habits of -the feathered or furry creatures, and insensibly to react to the -beauty of wood and wind and water—all this leaves an indelible -impression on the malleable nature of a young child, and we -five happy cousins, in spite of Theodore’s constant delicacy, were -allowed this wonderful freedom to assimilate what nature had -to give.</p> - -<p>I never once remember that we came to the “grown people” -with that often-heard question “What shall we do next?” The -days never seemed long enough, the hours flew on golden wings. -Often there would be days of suffering for my brother, even in -the soft summer weather, but not as acute as in the winter-time,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36">36</a></span> -and though my father or my aunt frequently had to take Theodore -for change of air to one place or another, and rarely, even -at his best, could he sleep without being propped up in bed or -in a big chair, still his spirit was so strong and so recuperative -that when I think of my earliest country memories, he seems -always there, leading, suggesting, explaining, as all through my -life when the nursery was a thing of the past and the New Jersey -woodlands a faint though fair green memory, he was always -beside me, leading, suggesting, explaining still.</p> - -<p>It was in those very woodlands that his more accurate interest -in natural history began. We others—normal and not -particularly intelligent little children—joyed in the delights of -the country, in our games and our liberty, but he was not only -a leader for us in everything, but he also led a life apart from -us, seriously studying the birds, their habits and their notes, -so that years afterward the result of those long hours of childish -concentration took form in his expert knowledge of bird life -and lore—so expert a knowledge that even Mr. John Burroughs, -the great nature specialist, conceded him equality of information -with himself along those lines.</p> - -<p>It was at Lowantaka, at the breakfast-table one day, after -my father had taken the train to New York—this was the second -year of our domicile there, and the sad war was over—that my -mother received a peculiar-looking letter. I remember her -face of puzzled interest as she opened it and the flush that came -to her cheek as she turned to my aunt and said: “Oh, Anna, -this must be from Irvine!” and read aloud what would now seem -like a “personal” on a page of the New York <cite>Herald</cite>. It was -as follows:</p> - -<p>“If Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt and Miss Anna Bulloch will -walk in Central Park up the Mall, at 3 o’clock on Thursday -afternoon of this week [it was then Tuesday] and notice a young -man standing under the third tree on the left with a red handkerchief -tied around his throat, it will be of interest to them.”</p> - -<p>As my mother finished reading the letter she burst into tears,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37">37</a></span> -for it was long since the younger brother had been heard from, -as the amnesty granted to all those taking part in the Rebellion -had not been extended to those who had gone to England, as -had my two uncles, to assist in the building and the sailing of -the <cite>Alabama</cite>, and letters from them were considered too dangerous -to be received.</p> - -<p>This “Irvine” had been saved when the <i>Alabama</i> sank, after -her brief career, and the two brothers had settled in Liverpool, -and my mother knowing the great sorrow that his mother’s death -had meant to this younger brother, had always longed during -the intervening months to see him and tell him of that mother’s -undying devotion, though she herself had passed away the year -before.</p> - -<p>It seemed now to the active imaginations of the Southern -sisters that somehow or other Irvine had braved the authorities, -and would be able to see them and hear from their lips the -story of the past five years.</p> - -<p>One can well imagine the excitement of the children around -the breakfast-table at the romantic meeting suggested by the -anonymous letter. And so, on the following Thursday, the -two sisters went in to New York and walked up the Mall in Central -Park, and there, standing under the third tree to the left, -was the young man—a thin, haggard-looking young man compared -to the round-faced boy with whom they had parted so -long ago, but eagerly waiting to get from them the last news -of the mother who had hoped she would die before any harm -could befall him. He had worked his way over in the steerage -of a sailing-vessel under an assumed name, for he was afraid -of bringing some trouble on my father, and had taken the -method of the anonymous letter to bring to him the sisters he -had loved and missed so sorely.</p> - -<p>What a meeting it must have been under that “third tree -to the left” of the old Mall of Central Park, and what reminiscences -of happier childhood days those three must have indulged -in in the brief hour which the brother could give his sisters before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38">38</a></span> -sailing back across the broad ocean, for he did not dare meet -them again for fear of some unpleasant results for the Northern -brother-in-law, for whom he had great admiration.</p> - -<p>Later, of course, my uncles were given the right to return -to their own country, but although they often visited us, they -never settled in America again, having rooted their business -interests on English soil, though their hearts always turned -loyally to the country of their birth.</p> - -<p>In taking into consideration the immediate forebears of my -brother, Theodore Roosevelt, I would once more repeat that -to arrive at a true comprehension of his many-sided character -one must realize the combination of personalities and the different -strains of blood in those personalities from whom he was -descended in summing up the man he was.</p> - -<p>The stability and wisdom of the old Dutch blood, the gaiety -and abandon of the Irish strain that came through the female -side of his father’s people, and on his mother’s side the great -loyalty of the Scotch and the fiery self-devotion of the French -Huguenot martyrs, mixed as it was with the light touch which -shows in French blood of whatever strain—all this combined -to make of the boy born of so varied an ancestry one who was -akin to all human nature.</p> - -<p>In April, 1868, the little boy of nine and a half shows himself, -indeed, as father to the man in several characteristic letters -which I insert here. They were written to his mother and -father and the little sister Conie when the above members of the -family were paying a visit to Savannah, and are as follows:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -New York April 28th, 1868.</p> - -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">My Dear Mamma</span></p> - -<p>I have just received your letter! What an excitement! -How nice to read it. What long letters you do write. I don’t -see how you can write them. My mouth opened wide with -astonishment when I heard how many flowers were sent in to -you. I could revel in the buggie ones. I jumped with delight<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39">39</a></span> -when I found you had heard a mocking-bird. Get some of its -feathers if you can. Thank Johnny for the feathers of the soldier’s -cap, give him my love also. We cried when you wrote -about Grand-Mamma. Give My love to the good natured (to -use your own expresion) handsome lion, Conie, Johnny, Maud, -and Aunt Lucy. I am sorry the trees have been cut down. Aunt -Annie, Edith and Ellie send their love to you and all, I send mine -to. I send this picture to Conie. In the letters you write to -me tell me how many curiosities and living things you have got -for me. I miss Conie very much. I wish I were with you and -Johnny for I could hunt for myself. There is Conie’s letter.</p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">My Dear Conie</span>:</p> - -<p>As I wrote so much in Mamma’s letter I cannot write so -much in yours. I have got four mice, two white skined, red -eyed velvety creatures, very tame for I let them run all over -me, they trie to get down the back of my neck and under my -vest, and two brown skined, black eyed, soft as the others but -wilder. Lordy and Rosa are the names of the white mice, which -are male and female. I keep them in different cages</p> - -<p class="center"> -White mouse cage. <span class="in4">brown mouse cage.</span> -</p></blockquote> - -<div id="if_i_039" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> - <img src="images/i_039.jpg" width="600" height="359" class="bbox tight" alt="" /></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40">40</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">My Dear Papa</span></p> - -<p>You can all read each other’s letters. I hear you were very -seasick on your voyage and that Dora and Conie were seasick -before you passed Sandy-hook. Give my greatest love to -Johnny. You must write too. Wont you drive Mamma to -some battle field for she is going to get me some trophies? I -would like to have them so very much. I will have to stop now -because Aunty wants me to learn my lessons.</p> - -<p>The chaffinch is for you. The wren for Mamma. The cat -for Conie.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l8">Yours lovingly,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Theodore Roosevelt</span>. -</p> - -<p>P. S. I liked your peas so much that I ate half of them.</p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright">New York, April 30th, 1868.</p> - -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">My Dear Father</span></p> - -<p>I received your letter yesterday. Your letter was more -exciting than Mother’s. I have a request to ask of you, will -you do it? I hope you will, if you will it will figure greatly in -my museum. You know what supple jacks are, do you not? -Please get one for Ellie and two for me. Ask your friend to let -you cut off the tiger-cat’s tail, and get some long moos and have -it mated together. One of the supple jacks (I am talking of -mine now) must be about as thick as your thumb and finger. -The other must be as thick as your thumb. The one which is -as thick as your finger and thumb must be four feet long and -the other must be three feet long. One of my mice got crushed. -It was the mouse I liked best though it was a common mouse. -Its name was Brownie. Nothing particular has happened since -you went away for I cannot go out in the country like you can. -The trees and the vine on our piazza are buding and the grass -is green as can be, and no one would dream that it was winter -so short a time ago. All send love to all of you.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l8">Yours lovingly,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Theodore Roosevelt</span>. -</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41">41</a></span> -The “excitement” referred to in the first letter was the wonderful -reception accorded to my mother on her return to the -city of her girlhood days. Her rooms in the hotel in Savannah -were filled by her friends with flowers—and how she loved flowers—but -not the “buggie ones” in which her young naturalist son -says he would “revel!”</p> - -<p>One can see the ardent little bird-lover as he wrote “I jumped -with delight when I found you had heard a mocking-bird,” and -again when he says “Tell me how many curiosities and living -things you have got for me.” Insatiable lover of knowledge -as he was, it was difficult indeed for his parents to keep pace -with his thirst for “outward and visible signs of the things that -be.”</p> - -<p>More than fifty years have passed since the painstaking penning -of the childish letters, but the heart of his sister in reading -them thrills hotly at the thought that the little “Conie” of those -days was “very much” missed by her idolized brother, and how -she treasured the letter written all for her, with the pictures -of the cages in which he kept his beloved mice! It was sad -that the pictures of the chaffinch, wren, and cat, evidently enclosed -for each of the travellers, should have been lost. In the -two letters to his father he enlists that comrade-father’s services -for his adored “museum” by the plea for “trophies from some -battle field,” and the urgent request for the “supple jack,” the -nature of which exciting article I confess I do not understand. -I do understand, however, his characteristic distress that “one -of my mice got crushed. It was the mouse I liked best though -it was a common mouse.” That last sentence brought the tears -to my eyes. How true to type it was! the “common mouse” -was the one he liked best of all—never the rare, exotic thing, -but the every-day, the plain, the simple, and he probably liked -it so much just because that little “common mouse” had shown -courage and vitality and affection! All through Theodore Roosevelt’s -life it was to the plain simple things and to the plain simple -people that he gave his most loyal devotion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42">42</a></span> -In May, 1869, because of a great desire on the part of my -mother to visit her brothers in England, as well as to see the -Old World of which she had read and studied so much, she persuaded -my father to take the whole family abroad.</p> - -<p>After those early summers at Madison, which still stand out -so clearly in my memory, there comes a less vivid recollection -of months passed at the beautiful old place at Barrytown, on -the Hudson River, which my parents rented from Mr. John -Aspinwall, and where a wonderful rushing brook played a big -part in the joys of our holiday months.</p> - -<p>We “younger ones” longed for another summer at this -charming spot and regretted, with a certain amount of suspicion, -the decision of the “Olympians” to drag us from our leafy haunts -to improve our rebellious young minds, but my parents were -firm in their decision, and we started on the old paddle-wheel -steamship <i>Scotia</i>, as I have said, in May, 1869.</p> - -<p>In a letter from my mother to my aunt, who had married -Mr. James King Gracie, and was therefore regretfully left behind, -she described with an easy pen some incidents of the voyage -across the ocean, as follows:</p> - -<p>“Elliott is the leader of children’s sports and plays with the -little Winthrop children all day. A short while ago Thee made -up his mind suddenly that Teedie must play too, so hunted -up the little fellow who was deeply enjoying a conversation with -the only acquaintance he has made, a little man, whom we call -the ‘one too many man,’ for he seems to go about with no acquaintances. -His name is Mr. St. John and he is a quaint little -well of knowledge,—very fond of natural history and fills -Teedie’s heart with delight. Teedie brought him up and -introduced him to me, his eyes dancing with delight and he constantly -asks me, ‘Mamma, have you really conversed with Mr. -St. John?’ I feel so tenderly to Teedie, that I actually stopped -reading the ‘Heir of Redcliffe,’ and talked to the poor little man -who has heart complaint so badly that his voice is even affected -by it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43">43</a></span> -“The two little boys were pretty seasick on Sunday and -I do not know what I should have done without Robert, the -bedroom steward, and an amiable deck steward, who waits on -those who remain on deck at meals. He seems a wonderfully -constructed creature, having amiable knobs all over his body, -upon which he supports more bowls of soup and plates of eatables -than you can imagine, all of which he serves out, panting -over you while you take your plate, with such wide extended -nostrils that they take in the Irish coast, and the draught from -them cools the soup!</p> - -<p>“Anna,—the carpet in my stateroom is filled with organic -matter which, if distilled, would make a kind of anchovy paste, -only fit to be the appetizer before the famous ‘witches’ broth,’ -the receipt for which Shakespeare gives in “Macbeth”,—but on -the whole the <i>Scotia</i> is well ordered and cleaner than I had expected.</p> - -<p>“On Sunday morning Thee was sick and while in bed, little -Conie came into the room. He looked down from his upper -berth, looking like a straw-colored Cockatoo, but Conie stopped -in the middle of what she was saying and said, ‘Oh Papa! you -have such a lovely little curl on your forehead’ with a note of -great admiration in her voice and meaning it all, <em>really</em>, but her -position looking up, and his looking down reminded me forcibly -of the picture of the flattered crow who dropped his cheese when -the fox complimented him!”</p> - -<p>This letter, perhaps, more than almost any other, gives the -quaint humor and also the tenderness of my mother’s attitude -toward her children and husband.</p> - -<p>On our arrival in Liverpool we were greeted by the Bulloch -uncles, and from that time on the whole European trip was -one of interest and delight to the “grown people.” My older -sister, though not quite fifteen, was so unusually mature and -intelligent that she shared their enjoyment, but the journey -was of rather mitigated pleasure to the three “little ones,” who -much preferred the nursery at 28th East 20th Street, or their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44">44</a></span> -free summer activities in wood and field, to the picture-galleries -and museums, or even to the wonderful Swiss mountains where -they had to be so carefully guarded.</p> - -<p>In the letters written faithfully to our beloved aunt, the -note of homesickness is always apparent.</p> - -<p>Our principal delight was in what we used to call “exploring” -when we first arrived at a hotel, and in the occasional intercourse -with children of our own age, or, as in Teedie’s case, -with some expert along the line of his own interests, but the -writing and receiving of home letters stand out more strongly -than almost any other memory of this time, and amongst those -most treasured by Teedie and myself were the little missives -written by our most intimate friend, Edith Kermit Carow, a -little girl who was to have, in later days, the most potent influence -of all over the life of Theodore Roosevelt. How little -she thought when she wrote to her friend “Conie” from Redbank, -November 19, 1869, “I was much pleased at receiving -your kind letter telling me all about Teedie’s birthday,” that -one day that very Teedie would be President Theodore Roosevelt -and Edith Kermit Carow the mistress of the White House.</p> - -<p>The old friendship of our parents for Mr. and Mrs. Carow, -who lived with Mr. Carow’s older sister, Mrs. Robert Kermit, -in a large house backing up against the 14th Street mansion of -Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Van Schaack Roosevelt, was the natural -factor in the relationship of the younger generation, and little -Edith Carow and little Corinne Roosevelt were pledged friends -from the time of their birth.</p> - -<p>The “Teedie” of those days expressed always a homesick -feeling when “Edie’s” letters came. They seemed to fill him -with a strong longing for his native land!</p> - -<p>In the little note written on yellow, very minute writing-paper, -headed by a satisfied-looking cat, “Edie” expresses the -wish that “Teedie” could have been with her on a late picnic, -and “Teedie,” I am equally sure, wished for her presence at his -eleventh-birthday festivities, which were described by my sister<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45">45</a></span> -Anna in a letter to our aunt, Mrs. James King Grade. I quote -a few lines from that letter, for again its contents show the beautiful -devotion of my father and mother and sister to the delicate -little boy—the devotion which always put their own wishes or -arrangements aside when the terrible attacks of asthma came, -for those attacks seemed to make them feel that no plan was -too definite or important to change at once should “Teedie’s” -health require it. My sister writes, the letter being dated from -Brussels, October 30, 1869:</p> - -<p>“Last Thursday was dear little Teedie’s birthday; he was -eleven years old. We all determined to lay ourselves out on -that occasion, for we all feared that he would be homesick,—for -he is a great little home-boy. It passed off very nicely indeed. -We had to leave Berlin suddenly the night before, for ‘Teedie’ -was not very well; so we left Berlin on Wednesday night at -eight o’clock and arrived at Cologne on Thursday morning about -nine. You can imagine it was a very long trip for the three -little children, although they really bore it better than we three -older ones. [She one of the older ones at fourteen and a half!] -It was a bitterly cold night and snowed almost all the time. -Think of a snow storm on the night of the 27th of October! Teedie -was delighted at having had a snow storm on his birthday -morning, for he had never had <em>that</em> before. When we reached -Cologne we went to the same hotel, and had the same nice rooms -which we had had on our former stay there, and that of course -made us feel very much more at home. Teedie ordered the -breakfast, and they all had ‘real tea’ as a very great treat, and -then Teedie ordered the dinner, at which we were all requested -to appear in full dress; so Mamma came in her beautiful white -silk dinner dress, and Papa in dress coat and light kid gloves. -I was very cold, so only wore silk. After Teedie’s dinner Papa -brought in all his presents. They, Mamma and Papa, gave -each of the three, writing desks marked with their names and -filled with all the conveniences. Then Teedie received a number -of smaller presents as well.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46">46</a></span> -What parents, indeed, so fully to understand the romantic -feeling of the little boy about his birthday dinner, that they -were more than willing to don their most beautiful habiliments, -and appear as they had so lately appeared when received at -the Vienna Court! Such yielding to what by many people -might have been considered as too childish a whim to be countenanced -shows with special clearness the quality in my father -and mother which inspired in us all such undying adoration. -Another letter—not written by my older sister, but in the painstaking -handwriting of a little girl of seven—describes my own -party the month before. We were evidently staying in Vienna -at the time, for I say: “We went to Schönbrunn, a ‘shatto.’” -(More frequently known as a château, but quite as thrilling to -my childish mind spelled in my own unique manner!) And there -in the lovely grounds my mother had arranged a charming al -fresco supper for the little homesick American girl, and just -as the “grown people” were in “full dress” for “Teedie’s” birthday, -so they gave themselves up in the grounds of the great -“shatto” to making merry for the little seven-year-old girl.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div id="if_i_046" class="figleft" style="width: 242px;"> - <img src="images/i_046.jpg" width="242" height="400" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Corinne Roosevelt, 1869, at seven -and a half years.</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_046a" class="figleft" style="width: 244px;"> - <img src="images/i_046a.jpg" width="244" height="400" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Theodore Roosevelt at ten -years of age.</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_046b" class="figleft" style="width: 246px;"> - <img src="images/i_046b.jpg" width="246" height="400" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Anna Roosevelt at the age of fifteen -when she spoke of herself as one -of the “three older ones.”</div></div> -</div></div> - -<p>After the great excitements of the birthdays came our interesting -sojourn in Rome. In spite of my mother’s efforts to arouse -a somewhat abortive interest in art in the hearts of the three -little children, my principal recollections of the Rome of 1869 -are from the standpoint of the splendid romps on the Pincian -Hill. In those contests of running and racing and leaping my -brother Elliott was always the leader, although “Teedie” did -his part whenever his health permitted. One scene stands out -clearly in my mind. It was a beautiful day, one of those sunny -Italian days when ilex and olive shone with a special glistening -quality, and when the “Eternal City” as viewed from the high -hill awoke even in the hearts of the little Philistine foreigners -a subconscious thrill which they themselves did not quite understand. -We were playing with the Lawrence children, playing -leap-frog (how inappropriate to the Pincian Hill!) over the many -posts, when suddenly there came a stir—an unexpected excitement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47">47</a></span> -seemed everywhere. Word was passed that the Pope -was coming. “Teedie” whispered to the little group of American -children that he didn’t believe in popes—that no real American -would; and we all felt it was due to the stars and stripes -that we should share his attitude of distant disapproval. But -then, as is often the case, the miracle happened, for the crowd -parted, and to our excited, childish eyes something very much -like a scene in a story-book took place. The Pope, who was in -his sedan-chair carried by bearers in beautiful costumes, his benign -face framed in white hair and the close cap which he wore, -caught sight of the group of eager little children craning their -necks to see him pass; and he smiled and put out one fragile, -delicate hand toward us, and, lo! the late scoffer who, in spite of -the ardent Americanism that burned in his eleven-year-old soul, -had as much reverence as militant patriotism in his nature, fell -upon his knees and kissed the delicate hand, which for a brief -moment was laid upon his fair curling hair. Whenever I think -of Rome this memory comes back to me, and in a way it was so -true to the character of my brother. The Pope to him had always -meant what later he would have called “unwarranted -superstition,” but that Pope, Pio Nono, the kindly, benign old -man, the moment he appeared in the flesh brought about in my -brother’s heart the reaction which always came when the pure, -the good, or the true crossed his path.</p> - -<p>Amongst my mother’s efforts to interest us in art there was -one morning when she decided positively that her little girl, -at least, should do something more in keeping with the “Eternal -City” than playing leap-frog on the Pincian Hill, and so, a reluctant -captive, I was borne away to the Vatican Galleries, and -was there initiated into the beauties of some of the frescos and -sculpture. My mother, who I have already said was a natural -connoisseur in all art, had especial admiration for that wonderful -piece of sculpture from the hand of Michael Angelo known -as “The Torso of the Vatican.” This work of art stood alone -in a small room, so that nothing else should take away from its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48">48</a></span> -effect. As those who know it well need hardly be told, it lacks -both arms and both legs, and to the little girl who was summarily -placed by her mother in the only chair in the small room, it -seemed a very strange creation. But, with the hope of arousing -artistic instinct, my lovely mother said: “Now, darling, this -is one of the greatest works of art in the world, and I am going -to leave you here alone for five minutes, because I want you -to sit very quietly and look at it, and perhaps when I come back -in the five minutes you will be able to realize how beautiful it -is.” And then I saw my mother’s slender figure vanish into -another room. Having been always accustomed to obey my -parents, I virtuously and steadily kept my eyes upon the legless, -armless Torso, wondering how any one <em>could</em> think it a beautiful -work of art; and when my mother, true to her words, returning -in five minutes with an expectant look on her face, said, -“Now, darling, what do you think of the great ‘Torso’?” I replied -sadly, “Well, mamma, it seems to me a little ‘chumpy’!” -How often later in life I have heard my mother laugh immoderately -as she described her effort to instil her own love of those -wonderful shoulders and that massive back into her recalcitrant -small daughter; and when, years after, I myself, imbued as she -was with a passion for Italy and Italian art, used to wander -through those same galleries, I could never go into that little -room without the memory of the small girl of long ago, and -her effort to think Michael Angelo’s “Torso” anything but -“chumpy.”</p> - -<p>Christmas in Rome was made for us as much like our wonderful -Christmases at home as was possible in a foreign hotel. -It had always been our custom to go to our parents’ room at -the pleasant hour of 6 <span class="smcap">A. M.</span>, and generally my mother had -induced my long-suffering father to be dressed in some special -and marvellous manner at that early hour when we “undid” -the bulging, mysterious-looking stockings, and none of these -exciting rites were omitted because of our distance from our -native land. I think, for that reason, at the end of the beautiful -Christmas Day, 1869, the special joy in the hearts of the three<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49">49</a></span> -little American children was that they had actually forgotten -that they were in Rome at all! On January 2, “Teedie” himself -writes to his beloved Aunt Annie (Mrs. Gracie) on a piece -of note-paper which characteristically has at the top a bird on -a bough—that paper being his choice for the writing-desks which -had been given to the three children on his birthday: “Will you -send the enclosed to Edith Carow. In it I described our ascent -of Vesuvius, and so I will describe Pompeii to you.” In a rather -cramped hand he enters then into an accurate description of -everything connected with Pompeii, gloating with scientific -delight over the seventeen skeletons found in the Street of the -Tombs, but falling for one moment into a lighter vein, he tells -of two little Italian boys whom my father had engaged to come -and sing for us the same evening at Sorrento, and whose faces -were so dirty that my father and his friend Mr. Stevens washed -them with “Kissengin Water.” That extravagance seems to -have been specially entertaining to the mind of the young letter-writer.</p> - -<p>During the year abroad there were lovely times when we -were not obliged to think of sculpture or painting—weeks in -the great Swiss mountains when, in spite of frequent attacks -of his old enemy, my father writes that “Teedie” walked many -miles and showed the pluck and perseverance which were so -strikingly part of his character. In another letter he is described, -while suffering from a peculiarly severe attack of asthma, as -being propped up all night in a big chair in the sitting-room, -while his devoted mother told him stories of “when she was a -little girl” at the old plantation at Roswell; and yet within two -days of that very time he is following my father and brother on -one of the longest walks they took in the mountains. All through -the letters of that period one realizes the developing character -of the suffering little boy. My mother writes in a letter to her -sister: “Teedie and Ellie have walked to-day thirteen miles, -and are very proud of their performance. Indeed Teedie has -been further several times.”</p> - -<p>And so the year of exile had its joyous memories, but in spite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50">50</a></span> -of them never were there happier children than those who arrived -home in America in the spring of 1870.</p> - -<p>Earlier in our lives my father, always thinking of the problem -of the fragile health of his two older children, conceived the idea -of turning the third room of the second story at 28 East 20th -Street into an out-of-doors piazza, a kind of open-air gymnasium, -with every imaginable swing and bar and seesaw, and my mother -has often told me how he called the boy to him one day—Theodore -was now about eleven years of age—and said: “Theodore, -you have the mind but you have not the body, and without the -help of the body the mind cannot go as far as it should. You -must <em>make</em> your body. It is hard drudgery to make one’s body, -but I know you will do it.” The little boy looked up, throwing -back his head in a characteristic fashion; then with a flash of -those white teeth which later in life became so well known that -when he was police commissioner the story ran that any recreant -policeman would faint if he suddenly came face to face with a -set of <em>false</em> teeth in a shop-window—he said, “<em>I’ll make my -body</em>.”</p> - -<p>That was his first important promise to himself and the delicate -little boy began his work; and for many years one of my -most vivid recollections is seeing him between horizontal bars, -widening his chest by regular, monotonous motion—drudgery -indeed—but a drudgery which eventuated in his being not only -the apostle but the exponent of the strenuous life.</p> - -<p>What fun we had on that piazza! The first Theodore Roosevelt, -like his son, was far ahead of his times, and fresh air was -his hobby, and he knew that the children who will cry if they are -made to take dull walks on dreary city streets, will romp with -dangerous delight ungovernessed and unmaided in an outdoor -gymnasium. I use the word “dangerous” advisedly, for one -day my lovely and delicate mother had an unforgetable shock -on that same piazza. She happened to look out of the window -opening on to the piazza and saw two boys—one of whom, needless -to say, was Theodore—carefully balancing the seesaw from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51">51</a></span> -the high rail which protected the children from the possibility -of falling into the back yard, two stories below. Having wearied -of the usual play, the aforesaid two boys thought they would -add a tinge of excitement to the merriment by balancing the -seesaw in such a manner as to have one boy always in the thrilling -position of hanging on the farther side of the top rail, with -the possibility (unless the equilibrium were kept to perfection) -of seesaw, boys, and all descending unexpectedly into the back -yard.</p> - -<p>One may well imagine the horror of the mother as she saw -her adventurous offspring crawling out beyond the projection -of the railing, and only great self-control enabled her to reach -the wooden board held lightly by the fingers of an equally criminal -cousin, and by an agonized clutch make it impossible for -the seesaw to slide down with its two foolhardy riders.</p> - -<p>Needless to say, no such feat was ever performed again, but -the piazza became the happy meeting-ground of all the boys -and girls of the neighborhood, and there not only Theodore -Roosevelt but many of his friends and family put in a stock -of sturdy health which was to do them good service in later years. -At the same time the children of that house were leading the -normal lives of other little children, except for the individual -industry of the more delicate one, who put his hours of necessary -quiet into voracious reading of history, and study of natural -history.</p> - -<p>Again the summers were the special delight of our lives, and -the following several summers we spent on the Hudson River, -at or near Riverdale, where warm friendships were formed with -the children of our parents’ friends, Mr. and Mrs. William E. -Dodge, Mr. and Mrs. Percy R. Pyne, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Harriman, -and Mr. Robert Colgate.</p> - -<p>Groups of joyous children invented and carried into effect -every imaginable game, and, as ever, our father was the delightful -collaborator in every scheme of pleasure. There began Theodore’s -more active collection of birds and animals. There he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52">52</a></span> -advertised for families of field-mice, and the influx of the all-too-prolific -little animals was terrifying to the heart of so perfect -a housekeeper as my mother. The horror produced by the discovery -of several of the above-named families in the refrigerator -was more than trying to the nerves of one less devoted to science. -My sister Anna, the most unselfish of older sisters, was the chief -sufferer always, as, in spite of her extreme youth—for she was -only four years older than my brother—her unusual ability and -maturity made her seem more like a second mother than a -sister. On one special occasion Theodore, having advertised -and offered the large sum of ten cents for every field-mouse and -thirty-five cents for a family, left for a trip to the Berkshire -hills, and my poor sister was inundated by hundreds of active -and unattractive families of field-mice, while clamoring country -people demanded their ten-cent pieces or the larger sum irrelevantly -offered by the absentee young naturalist. In the same -unselfish manner my sister was the unwilling recipient of families -of young squirrels, guinea-pigs, etc., and I can see her still bringing -up one especially delicate family of squirrels on the bottle, -and also begging a laundress not to forsake the household because -turtles were tied to her tubs!</p> - -<p>Those summers on the Hudson River stand out as peculiarly -happy days. As I have said before, we were allowed great freedom, -although never license, in the summer-time, and situated -as we then were, with a group of little friends about us, the long -sweet days passed like a joyous dream.</p> - -<p>Doctor Hilborne West, the husband of my mother’s half-sister, -stands prominently out as a figure in those childhood -times. My mother writes of him as follows: “Dr. West has -made himself greatly beloved by each child. He has made boats -and sailed them with Ellie; has read poetry and acted plays -with Conie; and has talked science and medicine and natural -history with Teedie, who always craves knowledge.” In spite -of his craving for knowledge the boy, now nearly fourteen years -old, had evidently, however, the normal love of noise and racket,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53">53</a></span> -as evinced by the following “spread-eagle” letter to his aunt, -who, in her turn, had gone abroad that summer.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright">Dobb’s Ferry, July 9th, 72.</p> -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">Dear Auntie</span></p> - -<p>We had the most splendid fun on the fourth of July. At -eight o’clock we commenced with a discharge of three packs -of firecrackers, which awoke most of the people. But we had -only begun now, and during the remainder of the day six boxes -of torpedoes and thirty-six packs of firecrackers kept the house -in an exceedingly lively condition. That evening it rained which -made us postpone the fireworks until next evening, when they -were had with great success, excepting the balloons, which were -an awful swindle. We boys assisted by firing roman candles, -flowerpots and bengolas. We each got his fair share of burns.</p> - -<p>Conie had a slight attack of asthma last night but I took -her riding this morning and we hope she is well now.</p> - -<p>We are permitted now to stay in the water as long as we -please. The other day I came near being drowned, for I got -caught under water and was almost strangled before I could -get out. I study English, French, German and Latin now. -Bamie spent the fourth at Barrytown where she had Tableaux, -Dances, &c. to her heart’s content. Give my love to Uncles -and Cousin Jimmie. Aunt Hattie &c. Tell Aunt Hattie I -will never forget the beautiful jam and the splendid times we -had at her cottage.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l8">Ever your little</span><br /> -T. D. -</p></blockquote> - -<p>Later in life, in thinking of this same uncle, whose subsequent -career never squared with his natural ability, I have come to feel -that sometimes people whom we call failures should not be so -called,—for it is often their good fortune to leave upon the malleable -minds of the next generation an inspiration of which they -themselves fall sadly short. In the character of this same charming -uncle there must have been some lack of fibre, for, brilliant -as he was, he let his talents lie dormant. Yet, perhaps, of all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54">54</a></span> -those who influenced our early childhood, the effect upon us -produced by his cultivation, his marvellous memory, his literary -interests, and his genial good humor had more to do with the -early stirring of intellectual desires in his little relatives than -almost any other influence at that time. The very fact that -he was not achieving a thousand worth-while things, as was -my father, the very fact that he was not busied with the practical -care and thought for us, as were my mother and aunt—brought -about between us that delightful relationship when the -older person leads rather than drives the younger into the paths -of literature and learning. To have “Uncle Hill” read Shakespeare -to us under the trees, and then suggest that we “dress -up” and act the parts, to have “Uncle Hill” teach us parts of -the famous plays of all the ages and the equally famous poems, -was a delight rather than a task; and he interspersed his Shakespeare -with the most remarkable, and, to our childish minds, -brilliant doggerel, sometimes of his own making, that could -possibly be imagined—so that Hamlet’s soliloquy one day -seemed quite as palatable as “Villikins and His Dinah,” or -“Horum, Chorum, Sumpti Vorum,” the next. To show the relationship -between the charming physician of Philadelphia (the -home of my uncle and aunt was in that city) and the young -philosopher of New York, I am tempted to insert a letter from -the latter to the former written in 1873 from Paris on our second -trip abroad.</p> - -<p>“From Theodore the Philosopher to Hilborne, Elder of the -Church of Philadelphia. Dated from Paris, a city of Gaul, -in the 16th day of the 11th month of the 4th year of the reign -of Ulysses. [I imagine that General Grant was then President.] -Truly, O Hilborne! this is the first time in many weeks that I -have been able to write you concerning our affairs. I have just -come from the city of Bonn in the land of the Teuton, where I -have been communing with our fellow labourer James of Roosevelt, -surnamed The Doctor [our first cousin, young James West -Roosevelt], whom I left in good health. In crossing the Sea<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55">55</a></span> -of Atlantis I suffered much of a malady called sickness of the -sea, but am now in good health, as are also all our family. I -would that you should speak to the sage Leidy concerning the -price of his great manuscript, which I am desirous of getting. -Give my regards to Susan of West, whom I hope this letter will -find in health. I have procured many birds of kinds new to -me here, and have preserved them. This is all I have to say -for the time being, so will close this short epistle.”<a id="FNanchor_A" href="#Footnote_A" class="fnanchor">A</a></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_A" href="#FNanchor_A" class="fnanchor">A</a> This in a boyish hand which is beginning to show the character of the -young author.</p></div> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>That summer of 1872 was very enchanting, although overshadowed -by the thought of another “terrible trip to Europe,” -for after much thought my father and mother had decided that -the benefits of a winter on the Nile, and a summer studying -German in Dresden, would outweigh the possible disadvantage -of breaking into the regular school studies of the three children -of the 20th Street nursery. Therefore the whole family set -sail again in the autumn of 1872.</p> - -<p>After a delightful time with the uncles and aunts who had -settled in England, and many gay excursions to Hampton Court -and Bushey Park, and other places of interest, we went by way -of Paris and Brindisi to Alexandria, and after some weeks in -Cairo set sail on a dahabeah for three months on the Nile. In -a letter from my brother Elliott to my aunt he speaks of my -father’s purchase of a boat. With characteristic disregard of -the historic interest of the Nile he says: “Teedie and I won’t -mind the Nile very much, now that we have a boat to row in, -perhaps it won’t be so bad after all what with rowing, boxing, -and Christmas and playing, in between lessons and the ruins.” -Reaching Egypt, the same young lover of boxing and boats -writes of meeting much-beloved cousins, and again the characters -of “Ellie” and “Teedie” are markedly brought out in the -childish letter, for he says, “We had such a cosey tea. Frank -and I poured tea and cut up chicken, while Teedie and Jimmie<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56">56</a></span> -[the young cousin referred to in ‘Teedie’s’ letter to Doctor West] -talked about natural history.”</p> - -<p>The experience of a winter on the Nile was a very wonderful -one for the little American children, and “Ellie’s” anticipations -were more than carried out. Before we actually set sail I write -in my journal of our wonderful trip to the pyramids and our -impressions, childish ones of course, of the marvellous bazaars; -and then we finally leave Cairo and start on the journey up the -ancient river. I have always been so glad that our trip was -before the days of the railway up to Karnak, for nothing could -have been more Oriental and unlike modern life than the slow -progress of our dahabeah, the <i>Aboo Erdan</i>. When there was -wind we tacked and slowly sailed, for the boat was old and bulky, -but when there was no wind the long line of sailors would get -out on the bank of the river and, tying themselves to the rope -attached to the bow, would track slowly along, bending their -bronzed backs with the effort, and singing curious crooning songs.</p> - -<p>In a letter dated December 27 I write to my aunt: “I will -tell you about my presents. Amongst others I got a pair of -pretty vases, and Teedie says the little birds they have on them -are an entirely new species. Teedie and Father go out shooting -every day, and so far have been very lucky. Teedie is always -talking about it whenever he comes in the room,—in fact when -he does come in the room you always hear the words ‘bird’ and -‘skin.’ <em>It certainly is great fun for him.</em>” In connection with -these same shooting-trips my father writes: “Teedie took his -gun and shot an ibis and one or two other specimens this morning -while the crew were taking breakfast. Imagine seeing not -only flocks of these birds, regarded as so rare by us in days gone -by as to be selected as a subject for our game of ‘twenty questions,’ -but also of storks, hawks, owls, pelicans, and, above all, -doves innumerable. I presented Teedie with a breech-loader -at Christmas, and he was perfectly delighted. It was entirely -unexpected to him, although he had been shooting with it as -mine. He is a most enthusiastic sportsman and has infused<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57">57</a></span> -some of his spirit into me. Yesterday I walked through the -bogs with him at the risk of sinking hopelessly and helplessly, -for hours, and carried the dragoman’s gun, which is a muzzle-loader, -with which I only shot several birds quietly resting upon -distant limbs and fallen trees; <em>but I felt I must keep up with Teedie</em>.”</p> - -<p>The boy of fourteen, with his indomitable energy, was already -leading his equally indomitable father into different fields of -action. He never rested from his studies in natural history. -When not walking through quivering bogs or actually shooting -bird and beast, he, surrounded by the brown-faced and curious -sailors, would seat himself on the deck of the dahabeah and skin -and stuff the products of his sport. I well remember the excitement, -and, be it confessed, anxiety and fear inspired in the -hearts of the four young college men who, on another dahabeah, -accompanied us on the Nile, when the ardent young sportsman, -mounted on an uncontrollable donkey, would ride unexpectedly -into their midst, his gun slung across his shoulders in such a -way as to render its proximity distinctly dangerous as he bumped -absent-mindedly against them. When not actually hunting -he was willing to take part in exploration of the marvellous old -ruins.</p> - -<p>In a letter to “Edie” I say: “The other day we arrived at -Edfoo, and we all went to see the temple together. While we -were there Teedie, Ellie, Iesi (one of our sailors), and I started -to explore. We went into a little dark room and climbed in a -hole which was in the middle of the wall. The boys had candles. -It was dark, crawling along the passage doubled up. At last -we came to a deep hole, into which Teedie dropped, and we found -out it was a mummy pit. It didn’t go very far in, but it all -seemed very exciting to us to be exploring mummy pits. Sometimes -we sail head foremost and sometimes the current turns -us all the way around—and I wish you could hear the cries of -the sailors when anything happens.”</p> - -<p>They were busy days, for our wise parents insisted upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58">58</a></span> -regularity of a certain kind, and my older sister, only just -eighteen, gave us lessons in both French and English in the early -morning before we went on the wonderful excursions to the great -temples, or before “Teedie” was allowed to escape for his shooting -expeditions. I do not think the three months’ absence from -school was any detriment, and I am very grateful for the stimulating -interest which that trip on the Nile gave to my brothers -and me. I can still see in retrospect, as if it were yesterday, the -great temple of Karnak as we visited it by moon-light; the -majestic colossi at Medinet Haboo; and the more beautiful -and delicate ruins of Philæ. Often my father would read -Egyptian history to us or explain the kind of architecture which -we were seeing; but always interspersed with more serious instruction -were merry walks and games and wonderful picnic -excursions, so that the winter on the Nile comes back to me as -one of romantic interest mixed with the usual fun and cheerful -intercourse of our ordinary family life. The four young men -who had chartered the dahabeah <i>Rachel</i> were Messrs. Nathaniel -Thayer and Frank Merriam of Boston, Augustus Jay of New -York, and Harry Godey of Philadelphia, and these four friends, -with the addition of other acquaintances whom we frequently -met, made for my sister and my parents a delightful circle, -into which we little ones were welcomed in a most gracious -way.</p> - -<p>In spite of the fact of the charms of the Nile and the fun -we frequently had, I write on February 1, from Thebes, to my -little playmate “Edie,” with rather melancholy reminiscence -of a more congenial past: “My own darling Edie,” I say, “don’t -you remember what fun we <em>used</em> to have out in the country, -and don’t you remember the day we got Pony Grant up in the -Chauncey’s summer house and couldn’t get him down again, -and how we always were losing Teedie’s india rubber shoes? -I remember it so perfectly, and what fun it was!” I evidently -feel that such adventures were preferable to those in which we -were indulging in far-away Egypt, although I conscientiously<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59">59</a></span> -describe the ear on one of the colossi at Medinet Haboo as being -four feet high, and the temple, I state, with great accuracy, has -twelve columns at the north and ten on either side! I seem, -however, to be glad to come back from that expedition to Medinet -Haboo, for I state that I wish she could see our dahabeah, which -is a regular little home. I don’t approve—in this same letter—of -the dancing-girls, which my parents allowed me to see one -evening. With early Victorian criticism I state that “there -is not a particle of grace in their motions, for they only wriggle -their bodies like a snake,” and that I really felt they were “very -unattractive”—thus proving that the little girl of eleven in -1873 was more or less prim in her tastes. I delight, however, -in a poem which I copy for “Edie,” the first phrase of which -has rung in my ears for many a long day.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Alas! must I say it, fare-farewell to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mysterious Egypt, great land of the flea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thy Thebaic temples, Luxor and Karnac,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the natives change slowly from yellow to black.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I ne’er see thy plain, so fraught with renown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the shadoofs go up and the shadoofs go down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which two stalwart natives bend over and sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While their loins are concealed by a simple shoe string.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">This verse, in spite of the reference to the lack of clothes of the -stalwart natives, evidently did not shock my sensibilities as -much as the motions of the dancing-girls. Farther on in the -letter I describe the New Year’s Eve party, and how Mr. Merriam -sang a song which I (Conie) liked very much, and which -was called “She’s Naughty But So Nice.” “Teedie,” however, -did not care for that song, but preferred one called “Aunt -Dinah,” because one verse ran: “My love she am a giraffe, a -two-humped camamile.” [Music had apparently only charms -to soothe him when suggestive of his beloved animal studies.] -From Thebes also my brother writes to his aunt one of the most -interesting letters of his boyhood:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60">60</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright">Near Kom Obos, Jan. 26th, 1873.</p> - -<p class="in0"><span class="smcap">Dear Aunt Annie</span>:</p> - -<p>My right hand having recovered from the imaginary attack -from which it did <em>not</em> suffer, I proceed to thank you for your -kind present, which very much delighted me. We are now on -the Nile and have been on that great and mysterious river for -over a month. I think I have never enjoyed myself so much -as in this month. There has always been something to do, for -we could always fall back upon shooting when everything else -failed us. And then we had those splendid and grand old ruins -to see, and one of them will stock you with thoughts for a month. -The temple that I enjoyed most was Karnak. We saw it by -moonlight. I never was impressed by anything so much. To -wander among those great columns under the same moon that -had looked down on them for thousands of years was awe-inspiring; -it gave rise to thoughts of the ineffable, the unutterable; -thoughts which you cannot express, which cannot be -uttered, which cannot be answered until after The Great -Sleep.</p> - -<p>[Here the little philosopher breaks off and continues in less -serious mood on February 9.]</p> - -<p>I have had great enjoyment from the shooting here, as I -have procured between one and two hundred skins. I expect -to procure some more in Syria. Inform Emlen of this. As -you are probably aware, Father presented me on Christmas -with a double-barrelled breech loading shot gun, which I never -move on shore without, excepting on Sundays. The largest -bird I have yet killed is a Crane which I shot as it rose from a -lagoon near Thebes.</p> - -<p>The sporting is injurious to my trousers....</p> - -<p>Now that I am on the subject of dress I may as well mention -that the dress of the inhabitants up to ten years of age is -nothing. After that they put on a shirt descended from some -remote ancestor, and never take it off till the day of their -death.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61">61</a></span> -Mother is recovering from an attack of indigestion, but the -rest are all well and send love to you and our friends, in which -I join sincerely, and remain,</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l4">Your Most Affectionate Nephew,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">T. Roosevelt, Jr.</span> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>The adoration of his little sister for the erudite “Teedie” is -shown in every letter, especially in the letters to their mutual -little friend “Edie.” On January 25 this admiration is summed -up in a postscript which says: “Teedie is out shooting now. -He is quite professionist [no higher praise could apparently be -given than this remarkable word] in shooting, skinning and -stuffing, and he is so satisfied.” This expression seems to sum -up the absolute sense of well-being during that wonderful winter -of the delicate boy, who, in spite of his delicacy, always achieved -his heart’s desire.</p> - -<p>In the efforts of his little sister to be a worthy companion, -I find in my diary, written that same winter of the Nile, one -abortive struggle on my own part to become a naturalist. On -the page at the end of my journal I write in large letters:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center larger">NATURAL HISTORY</p> - -<p class="center">“QUAIL</p> - -<p>“Ad. near Alexandria, Egypt, November 27th, 1872. Length -5—Expanse 13.0 Wings 5 Tail 1.3—Bill 5. Tarsus 1.2 -Middle Toe 1.1 Hind Toe .3.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Under these mystic signs is a more elaborate and painstaking -description of the above bird. I can see my brother now -giving me a serious lecture on the subject, and trying to inspire -a mind at that time securely closed to all such interests—to -open at least a crack of its reluctant door, for “Teedie” felt -that to walk with blind eyes in a world of such fluttering excitement -as was made for him by the birds of the air showed an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62">62</a></span> -innate depravity which he wished with all his soul to cure in -his beloved little sister. At the end of my description of the -quail I fall by the wayside, and only once again make an excursion -into the natural history of the great land of Egypt; only -once more do I struggle with the description of a bird called -this time by the curious name of “Ziczac.” (Could this be “Zigzag,” -or was it simply my childish mind that zigzagged in its -painful efforts to follow the impossible trail of my elder brother?) -In my account of this, to say the least, unusual bird I remark: -“Tarsus not finished.” Whether <em>I</em> have not finished the tarsus, -or whether the bird itself had an arrested development of some -kind, I do not explain; and on the blank page opposite this final -effort in scientific adventure I finish, as I began, by the words -“<em>Natural History</em>,” and underneath them, to explain my own -unsuccessful efforts, I write: “My Brother, Theodore Roosevelt, -Esq.” Whether I had decided that all natural history -was summed up in that magic name, or whether from that time -on I was determined to leave all natural history to my brother, -Theodore Roosevelt, Esq., I do not know; but the fact remains -that from that day to this far distant one I have never again -dipped into the mystery of mandibles and tarsi.</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>And so the sunny, happy days on the great river passed -away. A merry eighteenth-birthday party in January for my -sister Anna took the form of a moonlight ride to the great temple -of Karnak, and, although we younger ones, naturally tired frequently -of the effort to understand history and hieroglyphics, -and turned with joy even in the shadow of the grand columns -of Abydos to the game of “Buzz,” still I can say with truth -that the easily moulded and receptive minds of the three little -children responded to the atmosphere of the great river with -its mighty past, and all through the after-years the interest -aroused in those early days stimulated their craving for knowledge -about the land of the Pharaohs.</p> - -<p>On our way down the river an incident occurred which, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63">63</a></span> -a sense, was also memorable. At Rhoda on our return from the -tombs of Beni Hasan we found that a dahabeah had drawn up -near ours, on which were the old sage Ralph Waldo Emerson -and his daughter. My father, who never lost a chance of bringing -into the lives of his children some worth-while memory, took -us all to see the old poet, and I often think with pleasure of the -lovely smile, somewhat vacant, it is true, but very gentle, with -which he received the little children of his fellow countryman.</p> - -<p>It was at this time that the story was told in connection with -Mr. Emerson that some sentimental person said: “How wonderful -to think of Emerson looking at the Sphinx! What a -message the Sphinx must have had for Emerson.” Whereupon -an irreverent wit replied: “The only message the Sphinx could -possibly have had for Emerson must have been ‘You’re another.’” -I can quite understand now, remembering the mystic, -dreamy face of the old philosopher, how this witticism came -about.</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>And now the Nile trip was over and we were back again in -Cairo, and planning for the further interest of a trip through the -Holy Land. Mr. Thayer and Mr. Jay, two of the young friends -who had accompanied us on the Nile, decided to join our party, -and after a short stay in Cairo we again left for Alexandria and -thence sailed for Jaffa. In my diary I write at the Convent of -Ramleh between Jaffa and Jerusalem, where we spent our first -night: “In Jaffa we chose our horses, which was very exciting, -and started on our long ride. After three hours of delightful riding -through a great many green fields, we reached this convent -and found they had no room for ladies, because they were not -allowed to go into one part of the building as it was against the -rules, but at last Father got the old monks to allow us to come -into another part of the convent for just one night.”</p> - -<p>“Father,” like his namesake, almost always got what he -wanted.</p> - -<p>From that time on one adventure after another followed.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64">64</a></span> -I write of many nice gallops, and of my horse lying down in the -middle of streams; and, incidentally with less interest, of the -Mount of Olives and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre! Antonio -Sapienza proved to be an admirable dragoman, and always -the practical part of the tenting cavalcade started early in the -morning, and therefore as the rest of us rode over the hills in -the later afternoon we would see arranged cosily in some beautiful -valley the white tents, with the curling smoke from the -kitchen-tent already rising with the promise of a delightful -dinner.</p> - -<p>Over Jordan we went, and what a very great disappointment -Jordan was to our childish minds, which had always pictured -a broad river and great waves parting for the Ark of the -Covenant to pass. This Jordan was a little stream hardly more -impressive than the brook at our old home at Madison, and we -could not quite accustom ourselves to the disappointment. But -Jerusalem with its narrow streets and gates, its old churches, the -high Mount of Olives, and the little town of Bethlehem not far -away, and, even more interesting from the standpoint of beauty, -the vision of the Convent of Mar Saba on the high hill not far -from Hebron, and beyond all else the blue sparkling waters of -the Dead Sea, all remain in my memory as a wonderful panorama -of romance and delight.</p> - -<p>Arab sheiks visited us frequently in the evening and brought -their followers to dance for us, and wherever my father went -he accumulated friends of all kinds and colors, and we, his children, -shared in the marvellous atmosphere he created. I remember, -in connection with the Dead Sea, that “Teedie” and -Mr. Jay decided that they could sink in it, although the guides -had warned them that the salt was so buoyant that it was impossible -for any living thing to sink in the waters (the Dead Sea -was about the most alive sea that I personally have ever seen), -and so the two adventurous ones undertook to dive, and tried -to remain under water. “Teedie” fortunately relinquished -the effort almost immediately, but Mr. Jay, who in a spirit of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65">65</a></span> -bravado struggled to remain at the bottom, suffered the ill effects -from crusted salt in eyes and ears for many hours after -leaving the water.</p> - -<p>For about three weeks we rode through the Holy Land, and -my memory of many flowers remains as one of the charms of -that trip. Later, led in the paths of botany by a beloved -friend, I often longed to go back to that land of flowers; but -then to my childish eyes they meant nothing but beauty and -delight.</p> - -<p>After returning to Jerusalem and Jaffa we took ship again -and landed this time at Beyrout, and started on another camping-trip -to Damascus, through perhaps the most beautiful -scenery which we had yet enjoyed. During that trip also we -had various adventures. I describe in my diary how my father, -at one of our stopping-places, brought to our tents some beautiful -young Arab girls, how they gave us oranges and nuts, and -how cordially they begged us, when a great storm came up and -our tents were blown away, to come for shelter to their quaint -little houses.</p> - -<p>Even to the minds of the children of eleven and fourteen -years of age, the great Temple of Baalbek proved a lure of -beauty, and the diary sagely remarks that “It is quite as beautiful -as Karnak, although in an entirely different way, as Baalbek -has delicate columns, and Karnak great, massive columns.” -The beauty, however, is not a matter of such interest as the -mysterious little subterranean passages, and I tell how “Teedie” -helped me to climb the walls and little tower, and to crawl -through these same unexplored dark places.</p> - -<p>The ride into Damascus itself remains still an expedition of -glamour, for we reached the vicinity of the city by a high cliff, -and the city burst upon us with great suddenness, its minarets -stretching their delicate, arrow-like spires to the sky in so Oriental -a fashion that even the practical hearts of the little American -children responded with a thrill of excitement. Again, after an -interesting stay in Damascus, we made our way back to Beyrout.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66">66</a></span> -While waiting for the steamer there my brother Elliott -was taken ill, and writes in a homesick fashion to the beloved -aunt to whom we confided all our joys and woes. Poor little -boy! He says pathetically: “Oh, Auntie, you don’t know how -I long for a finishing-up of this ever-lasting traveling, when we -can once more sit down to breakfast, dinner and lunch in our own -house. Since I have been sick and only allowed rice and chicken,—and -very little of them—I have longed for one of our rice puddings, -and a pot of that strawberry jam, and one of Mary’s -sponge cakes, and I have thought of when I would go to your -rooms for dinner and what jolly chops and potatoes and dessert -I would get there, and when I would come to breakfast we would -have <em>buckwheat cakes</em>. Perhaps I am a little homesick.” I am -not so sure but what many an intelligent traveller, could his -or her heart be closely examined, would find written upon it -“lovely potatoes, chops and hot buckwheat cakes.”</p> - -<p>But all the same, in spite of “Ellie’s” rhapsody, off we started -on another steamer, and my father writes on March 28, 1873:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright">Steamer off Rhodes.</p> - -<p>Teedie is in great spirits, as the sailors have caught for him -numerous specimens, which he stuffs on deck, to the edification -of a large audience.</p></blockquote> - -<p>I write during the same transit, after stopping at Athens, -that “It is a very lovely town, and that I should have liked to -stay there longer, but that was not to be.” I also decided that -although the ruins were beautiful, I did not like them as much -as either Karnak or Baalbek. Having dutifully made these -architectural criticisms, I turn with gusto to the fact that Tom -and Fannie Lawrence, “Teedie,” “Ellie,” and I have such splendid -games of tag on the different steamers, and that I know my -aunt would have enjoyed seeing us. The tag was “con amore,” -while the interest in the temples was, I fear, somewhat induced. -Our comprehending mother and father, however, always allowed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67">67</a></span> -us joyous moments between educational efforts. In a letter -from Constantinople written by “Ellie” on April 7, he says: -“We have had Tom and Frank Lawrence here to dinner, and -we had a splendid game of ‘muggins’ and tried to play eucre -(I don’t know that this is rightly spelled) with five, but did not -suceede, Teedie did make such mistakes. [Not such an expert -in cards, you see, as in tarsi and mandibles!] But we were in -such spirits that it made no difference, and we did nothing but -shout at the top of our voices the battle cry of freedom; and the -playing of a game of slapjack helped us get off our steam with -hard slaps, but even then there was enough (steam) left in Teedie -and Tom to have a candle fight and grease their clothes, -and poor Frank’s and mine, who were doing nothing at all!” -As one can see by this description, the learned and rather delicate -“Teedie” was only a normal, merry boy after all. “Ellie” -describes also the wonderful rides in Constantinople, and many -other joys planned by our indulgent parents. From that same -city, called because of its many steeples The City of Minarets, -“Teedie” writes to his little friend Edith:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>I think I have enjoyed myself more this winter than I ever -did before. Much to add to my enjoyment Father gave me a -gun at Christmas, which rendered me happy and the rest of -the family miserable.</p> - -<p>I killed several hundred birds with it, and then went and -lost it! I think I enjoyed the time in Egypt most, and after -that I had the most fun while camping out in Syria.</p> - -<p>While camping out we were on horseback for several hours -of each day, and as I like riding ever so much, and as the Syrian -horses are very good, we had a splendid time. While riding I -bothered the family somewhat by carrying the gun over my -shoulder, and on the journey to the Jordan, when I was on the -most spirited horse I ever rode, I bothered the horse too, as was -evidenced by his running away several times when the gun struck -him too hard. Our tent life had a good many adventures in it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68">68</a></span> -Once it rained very hard and the rain went into our open trunks. -Another time our tents were almost blown away in a rough wind, -and once I hunted a couple of jackals for two or three miles as -fast as the horse could go.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l8">Yours truly,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">T. Roosevelt, Jr.</span> -</p></blockquote> - -<p class="in0">This little missive sums up the joy of “Teedie’s” winter in -Egypt and Syria, and so it seems a fitting moment to turn to -other interests and occupations, leaving the mysterious land of -the pyramids and that sacred land of mountains and flowers -behind us in a glow of child memories, which as year followed -year became brighter rather than dimmer.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="III"></a>III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE DRESDEN LITERARY AMERICAN CLUB<br /> - -<span class="subhead">MOTTO “W. A. N. A.”</span></span></h2> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">It</span> was a sad change to the three young American children -to settle in Dresden in two German families, after the care-free -and stimulating experiences of Egypt and the Holy -Land. Our wise parents, however, realized that a whole year -of irregularity was a serious mistake in that formative period -of our lives, and they also wished to leave no stone unturned -to give us every educational advantage during our twelve -months’ absence from home and country. It was decided, -therefore, that the two boys should be placed in the family of -Doctor and Mrs. Minckwitz, while I, a very lone and homesick -small girl, was put with some kind but far too elderly people, -Professor and Mrs. Wackernagel. This last arrangement was -supposed to be advantageous, so that the brothers and sister -should not speak too much English together. The kind old -professor and his wife and the daughters, who seemed to the -little girl of eleven years on the verge of the grave (although -only about forty years of age), did all that was in their power to -lighten the agonized longing in the child’s heart for her mother -and sister, but to no avail, for I write to my mother, who had -gone to Carlsbad for a cure: “I was perfectly miserable and -very much unstrung when Aunt Lucy wrote to you that no one -could mention your name or I would instantly begin to cry. -Oh! Mother darling, sometimes I feel that I cannot stand it any -longer but I am going to try to follow a motto which Father -wrote to me, ‘Try to have the best time you can.’ I should be -very sorry to disappoint Father but sometimes I feel as if I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70">70</a></span> -could not stand it any longer. We will talk it over when you -come. Your own little Conie.”</p> - -<p>Poor little girl! I was trying to be noble; for my father, who -had been obliged to return to America for business reasons, had -impressed me with the fact that to spend part of the summer in -a German family and thus learn the language was an unusual -opportunity, and one that must be seized upon. My spirit -was willing, but my flesh was very, very weak, and the age of -the kind people with whom I had been placed, the strange, dreadful, -black bread, the meat that was given only as a great treat -after it had been boiled for soup—everything, in fact, conduced -to a feeling of great distance from the lovely land of buckwheat -cakes and rare steak, not to mention the separation from the -beloved brothers whom I was allowed to see only at rare intervals -during the week. The consequence was that very soon my -mother came back to Dresden in answer to the pathos of my -letters, for I found it impossible to follow that motto, so characteristic -of my father, “Try to have the best time you can.” -I began to sicken very much as the Swiss mountaineers are said -to lose their spirits and appetites when separated from their -beloved mountains; so my mother persuaded the kind Minckwitz -family to take me under their roof, as well as my brothers, -and from that time forth there was no more melancholy, no -bursting into poetic dirges constantly celebrating the misery of -a young American in a German family.</p> - -<p>From the time that I was allowed to be part of the Minckwitz -family everything seemed to be fraught with interest and -many pleasures as well as with systematic good hard work. In -these days, when the word “German” has almost a sinister sound -in the ears of an American, I should like to speak with affectionate -respect of <em>that</em> German family in which the three little -American children passed several happy months. The members -of the family were typically Teutonic in many ways: the -Herr Hofsrath was the kindliest of creatures, and his rubicund, -smiling wife paid him the most loving court; the three daughters—gay,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71">71</a></span> -well-educated, and very temperamental young women—threw -themselves into the work of teaching us with a hearty -good will, which met with real response from us, as that kind of -effort invariably does. Our two cousins, the same little cousins -who had shared the happy summer memories of Madison, New -Jersey, when we were much younger, were also in Dresden with -their mother, Mrs. Stuart Elliott, the “Aunt Lucy” referred to -frequently in our letters. Aunt Lucy was bravely facing the -results of the sad Civil War, and her only chance of giving her -children a proper education was to take them to a foreign country -where the possibility of good schools, combined with inexpensive -living, suited her depleted income. Her little apartment -on Sunday afternoons was always open to us all, and there we, -five little cousins formed the celebrated “D. L. A. C.” (Dresden -Literary American Club!)</p> - -<p>On June 2 I wrote to my friend “Edie”: “We five children -have gotten up a club and meet every Sunday at Aunt Lucy’s, -and read the poetry and stories that we have written during -the week. When the book is all done, we will sell the book either -to mother or Aunt Annie and divide the money; (although on -erudition bent, still of commercial mind!) <em>I</em> am going to write -poetry all the time. My first poem was called ‘A Sunny Day -in June.’ Next time I am going to give ‘The Lament of an American -in a German Family.’ It is an entirely different style I -assure you.” The “different style” is so very poor that I refrain -from quoting that illustrious poem.</p> - -<div id="if_i_072" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> - <img src="images/i_072.jpg" width="600" height="443" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>The Dresden Literary American Club—Motto, “W. A. N. A.” (“We Are No Asses”).</p> - -<p class="smaller notbold">From left to right: Theodore Roosevelt, aged 14¾ years; Elliott Roosevelt, aged 13½ years; Maud Elliott, -aged 12¾ years; Corinne Roosevelt, aged 11¾ years; John Elliott, aged 14½ years. July 1, 1873.</p></div></div> - -<p>The work for the D. L. A. C. proved to be a very entertaining -pastime, and great competition ensued. A motto was chosen -by “Johnnie” and “Ellie,” who were the wits of the society. -The motto was spoken of with bated breath and mysteriously -inscribed W. A. N. A. underneath the mystic signs of D. L. A. C. -For many a long year no one but those in our strictest confidence -were allowed to know that “W. A. N. A.” stood for “We Are -No Asses.” This, perhaps somewhat untruthful statement, -was objected to originally by “Teedie,” who firmly maintained<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72">72</a></span> -that the mere making of such a motto showed that “Johnnie” -and “Ellie” were certainly exceptions that proved that rule. -“Teedie” himself, struggling as usual with terrible attacks of -asthma that perpetually undermined his health and strength, -was all the same, between the attacks, the ringleader in fun -and gaiety and every imaginable humorous adventure. He was -a slender, overgrown boy at the time, and wore his hair long in -true German student fashion, and adopted a would-be philosopher -type of look, effectively enhanced by trousers that -were outgrown, and coat sleeves so short that they gave him a -“Smike”-like appearance. His contributions to the immortal -literary club were either serious and very accurate from a -natural-historical standpoint, or else they showed, as comparatively -few of his later writings have shown, the delightful quality -of humor which, through his whole busy life, lightened for -him every load and criticism. I cannot resist giving in full the -fascinating little story called “Mrs. Field Mouse’s Dinner -Party,” in which the personified animals played social parts, -in the portrayal of which my brother divulged (my readers must -remember he was only fourteen) a knowledge of “society” life, -its acrid jealousies and hypocrisies, of which he never again -seemed to be conscious.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center larger">MRS. FIELD MOUSE’S DINNER PARTY</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Theodore Roosevelt—Aged Fourteen</span></p> - -<p>“My Dear,” said Mrs. M. to Mr. M. one day as they were sitting -on an elegant acorn sofa, just after breakfast, “My Dear, I think -that we really must give a dinner party.” “A What, my love?” -exclaimed Mr. M. in a surprised tone. “A Dinner Party”; returned -Mrs. M. firmly, “you have no objections I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not, of course not,” said Mr. M. hastily, for there was -an ominous gleam in his wife’s eye. “But—but why have it yet -for a while, my love?” “Why indeed! A pretty question! After -that odious Mrs. Frog’s great tea party the other evening! But -that is just it, you never have any proper regard for your station in -life, and on me involves all the duty of keeping up appearances, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73">73</a></span> -after all <em>this</em> is the gratitude I get for it!” And Mrs. M. covered her -eyes and fell into hysterics of 50 flea power. Of course, Mr. M. had -to promise to have it whenever she liked.</p> - -<p>“Then the day after tomorrow would not be too early, I suppose?” -“My Dear,” remonstrated the unfortunate Mr. M., but Mrs. M. -did not heed him and continued: “You could get the cheese and bread -from Squeak, Nibble & Co. with great ease, and the firm of Brown -House and Wood Rats, with whom you have business relations, you -told me, could get the other necessaries.”</p> - -<p>“But in such a short time,” commenced Mr. M. but was sharply -cut off by the lady; “Just like you, Mr. M.! Always raising objections! -and when I am doing all I can to help you!” Symptoms of -hysterics and Mr. M. entirely convinced, the lady continues: “Well, -then we will have it the day after tomorrow. By the way, I hear -that Mr. Chipmunck has got in a new supply of nuts, and you might -as well go over after breakfast and get them, before they are bought -by someone else.”</p> - -<p>“I have a business engagement with Sir Butterfly in an hour,” -began Mr. M. but stopped, meekly got his hat and went off at a glance -from Mrs. M.’s eye.</p> - -<p>When he was gone, the lady called down her eldest daughter, the -charming Miss M. and commenced to arrange for the party.</p> - -<p>“We will use the birch bark plates,”—commenced Mrs. M.</p> - -<p>“And the chestnut ‘tea set,’” put in her daughter.</p> - -<p>“With the maple leaf vases, of course,” continued Mrs. M.</p> - -<p>“And the eel bone spoons and forks,” added Miss M.</p> - -<p>“And the dog tooth knives,” said the lady.</p> - -<p>“And the slate table cloth,” replied her daughter.</p> - -<p>“Where shall we have the ball anyhow,” said Mrs. M.</p> - -<p>“Why, Mr. Blind Mole has let his large subterranean apartments -and that would be the best place,” said Miss M.</p> - -<p>“Sir Lizard’s place, ‘Shady Nook,’ which we bought the other -day, is far better <em>I</em> think,” said Mrs. M. “But <em>I</em> don’t,” returned -her daughter. “Miss M. be still,” said her mother sternly, and Miss -M. <em>was</em> still. So it was settled that the ball was to be held at ‘Shady -Nook.’</p> - -<p>“As for the invitations, Tommy Cricket will carry them around,” -said Mrs. M. “But who shall we have?” asked her daughter. After -some discussion, the guests were determined on. Among them were -all the Family of Mice and Rats, Sir Lizard, Mr. Chipmunck, Sir -Shrew, Mrs. Shrew, Mrs. Bullfrog, Miss Katydid, Sir Grasshopper,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74">74</a></span> -Lord Beetle, Mr. Ant, Sir Butterfly, Miss Dragonfly, Mr. Bee, Mr. -Wasp, Mr. Hornet, Madame Maybug, Miss Lady Bird, and a number -of others. Messrs. Gloworm and Firefly agreed to provide lamps -as the party was to be had at night. Mr. M., by a great deal of exertion, -got the provisions together in time, and Miss M. did the same -with the furniture, while Mrs. M. superintended generally, and was -a great bother.</p> - -<p>Water Bug & Co. conveyed everything to Shady Nook, and so -at the appointed time everything was ready, and the whole family, -in their best ball dresses, waited for the visitors.</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>The fisrt visitor to arrive was Lady Maybug. “Stupid old thing; -always first,” muttered Mrs. M., and then aloud, “How charming -it is to see you so prompt, Mrs. Maybug; I can always rely on <em>your</em> -being here in time.”</p> - -<p>“Yes Ma’am, oh law! but it is so hot—oh law! and the carriage, -oh law! almost broke down; oh law! I did really think I never should -get here—oh law!” and Mrs. Maybug threw herself on the sofa; but -the sofa unfortunately had one weak leg, and as Mrs. Maybug was -no light weight, over she went. While Mrs. M. (inwardly swearing -if ever a mouse swore) hastened to her assistance, and in the midst -of the confusion caused by this accident, Tommy Cricket (who had -been hired for waiter and dressed in red trousers accordingly) threw -open the door and announced in a shrill pipe, “Nibble Squeak & Co., -Mum,” then hastily correcting himself, as he received a dagger like -glance from Mrs. M., “Mr. Nibble and Mr. Squeak, Ma’am,” and -precipitately retreated through the door. Meanwhile the unfortunate -Messrs. Nibble and Squeak, who while trying to look easy in their -new clothes, had luckily not heard the introduction, were doing their -best to bow gracefully to Miss Maybug and Miss Mouse, the respective -mamas of these young ladies having pushed them rapidly forward -as each of the ladies was trying to get up a match between the rich -Mr. Squeak and her daughter, although Miss M. preferred Mr. Woodmouse -and Miss Maybug, Mr. Hornet. In the next few minutes the -company came pouring in (among them Mr. Woodmouse, accompanying -Miss Katydid, at which sight Miss M. turned green with -envy), and after a very short period the party was called in to dinner, -for the cook had boiled the hickory nuts too long and they had to be -sent up immediately or they would be spoiled. Mrs. M. displayed -great generalship in the arrangement of the people, Mr. Squeak taking -in Miss M., Mr. Hornet, Miss Maybug, and Mr. Woodmouse, Miss<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75">75</a></span> -Katydid. But now Mr. M. had invited one person too many for the -plates, and so Mr. M. had to do without one. At first this was not -noticed, as each person was seeing who could get the most to eat, -with the exception of those who were love-making, but after a while, -Sir Lizard, (a great swell and a very high liver) turned round and -remarked, “Ee-aw, I say, Mr. M., why don’t you take something more -to eat?” “Mr. M. is not at all hungry tonight, are you my dear?” -put in Mrs. M. smiling at Sir Lizard, and frowning at Mr. M. “Not -at all, not at all,” replied the latter hastily. Sir Lizard seemed disposed -to continue the subject, but Mr. Moth, (a very scientific -gentleman) made a diversion by saying, “Have you seen my work -on ‘Various Antenae’? In it I demonstrated clearly the superiority of -feathered to knobbed Antenae and”—“Excuse me, Sir,” interrupted -Sir Butterfly, “but you surely don’t mean to say—”</p> - -<p>“Excuse <em>me</em>, if you please,” replied Mr. Moth sharply, “but I -<em>do</em> mean it, and if you read my work, you will perceive that the rays -of feather-like particles on the trunk of the Antenae deriving from -the center in straight or curved lines generally”—at this moment -Mr. Moth luckily choked himself and seizing the lucky instant, Mrs. -M. rang for the desert.</p> - -<p>There was a sort of struggling noise in the pantry, but that was -the only answer. A second ring, no answer. A third ring; and Mrs. -M. rose in majestic wrath, and in dashed the unlucky Tommy Cricket -with the cheese, but alas, while half way in the room, the beautiful -new red trousers came down, and Tommy and cheese rolled straight -into Miss Dragon Fly who fainted without any unnecessary delay, -while the noise of Tommy’s howls made the room ring. There was -great confusion immediately, and while Tommy was being kicked -out of the room, and while Lord Beetle was emptying a bottle of rare -rosap over Miss Dragon Fly, in mistake for water, Mrs. M. gave a -glance at Mr. M., which made him quake in his shoes, and said in a -low voice, “Provoking thing! <em>now</em> you see the good of no suspenders”—“But -my dear, you told me not to”—began Mr. M., but was interrupted -by Mrs. M. “Don’t speak to me, you—” but here Miss -Katydid’s little sister struck in on a sharp squeak. “Katy kissed -Mr. Woodmouse!” “Katy didn’t,” returned her brother. “Katy -did,” “Katy didn’t,” “Katy did,” “Katy didn’t.” All eyes were -now turned on the crimsoning Miss Katydid, but she was unexpectedly -saved by the lamps suddenly commencing to burn blue!</p> - -<p>“There, Mr. M.! Now you see what you have done!” said the -lady of the house, sternly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76">76</a></span> -“My dear, I told you they could not get enough oil if you had -the party so early. It was your own fault,” said Mr. M. worked up -to desperation.</p> - -<p>Mrs. M. gave him a glance that would have annihilated three -millstones of moderate size, from its sharpness, and would have followed -the example of Miss Dragon Fly, but was anticipated by Madame -Maybug, who, as three of the lamps above her went out, fell -into blue convulsions on the sofa. As the whole room was now subsiding -into darkness, the company broke up and went off with some -abruptness and confusion, and when they were gone, Mrs. M. turned -(by the light of one bad lamp) an eagle eye on Mr. M. and said—, but -we will now draw a curtain over the harrowing scene that ensued and -say,</p> - -<p>“Good Bye.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>“Teedie” not only indulged in the free play of fancy such -as the above, but wrote with extraordinary system and regularity -for a boy of fourteen to his mother and father, and perhaps -these letters, written in the far-away Dresden atmosphere, show -more conclusively than almost any others the character, the -awakening mind, the forceful mentality of the young and delicate -boy. On May 29, in a letter to his mother, a very parental -letter about his homesick little sister who had not yet been taken -from the elderly family in which she was so unhappy, he drops -into a lighter vein and says: “I have overheard a good deal of -Minckwitz conversation which they did not think I understood; -Father was considered ‘very pretty’ (<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">sehr hübsch</i>) and his German -‘exceedingly beautiful,’ neither of which statements I quite -agree with.” And a week or two later, writing to his father, -he describes, after referring casually to a bad attack of asthma, -an afternoon of tag and climbing trees, supper out in the open -air, and long walks through the green fields dotted with the blue -cornflowers and brilliant red poppies. True to his individual -tastes, he says: “When I am not studying my lessons or out -walking I spend all my time in translating natural history, wrestling -with Richard, a young cousin of the Minckwitz’ whom I -can throw as often as he throws me, and I also sometimes cook,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77">77</a></span> -although my efforts in the culinary art are really confined to -grinding coffee, beating eggs or making hash, and such light -labors.” Later he writes again: “The boxing gloves are a source -of great amusement; you ought to have seen us after our ‘rounds’ -yesterday.” The foregoing “rounds” were described even more -graphically by “Ellie” in a letter to our uncle, Mr. Gracie, as -follows: “Father, you know, sent us a pair of boxing gloves -apiece and Teedie, Johnnie, and I have had jolly fun with them. -Last night in a round of one minute and a half with Teedie, he -got a bloody nose and I got a bloody mouth, and in a round with -Johnnie, I got a bloody mouth again and he a pair of purple -eyes. Then Johnnie gave Teedie another bloody nose. [The -boys by this time seemed to have multiplied their features indefinitely -with more purple eyes!] We do enjoy them so! Boxing -is one of Teedie’s and my favorite amusements; it is such -a novelty to be made to see stars when it is not night.” No wonder -that later “Ellie” contributed what I called in one of my -later letters a “tragical” article called “Bloody Hand” for the -D. L. A. C., perhaps engendered by the memory of all those -bloody mouths and noses!</p> - -<p>“Teedie” himself, in writing to his Aunt Annie, describes -himself as a “bully boy with a black eye,” and in the same letter, -which seems to be in answer to one in which this devoted aunt -had described an unusual specimen to interest him, he says:</p> - -<p>“Dear darling little Nancy: I have received your letter concerning -the wonderful animal and although the fact of your -having described it as having horns and being carnivorous has -occasioned me grave doubts as to your veracity, yet I think in -course of time a meeting may be called by the Roosevelt Museum -and the matter taken into consideration, although this -will not happen until after we have reached America. The -Minckwitz family are all splendid but very superstitious. My -scientific pursuits cause the family a good deal of consternation.</p> - -<p>“My arsenic was confiscated and my mice thrown (with the -tongs) out of the window. In cases like this I would approach<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78">78</a></span> -a refractory female, mouse in hand, corner her, and bang the -mouse very near her face until she was thoroughly convinced -of the wickedness of her actions. Here is a view of such a scene.</p> - -<div id="if_i_078" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> - <img src="images/i_078.jpg" width="600" height="405" class="bbox" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="in0">I am getting along very well with German and studying really -hard. Your loving T. R., Secretary and Librarian of Roosevelt -Museum. (Shall I soon hail you as a brother, I mean sister member -of the Museum?)”</p> - -<p>Evidently the carnivorous animal with horns was a stepping-stone -to membership in the exclusive Roosevelt Museum!</p> - -<p>The Dresden memories include many happy excursions, -happy in spite of the fact that they were sometimes taken because -of poor “Teedie’s” severe attacks of asthma. On June -29th he writes his father: “I have a conglomerate of good news -and bad news to report to you; the former far outweighs the -latter, however. I am at present suffering from a slight attack -of asthma. However, it is only a small attack and except for -the fact that I cannot speak without blowing like an abridged<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79">79</a></span> -hippopotamus, it does not inconvenience me very much. We are -now studying hard and everything is systematized. Excuse -my writing, the asthma has made my hand tremble awfully.” -The asthma of which he makes so light became unbearable, and -the next letter, on June 30 from the Bastei in Saxon Switzerland, -says: “You will doubtless be surprised at the heading of -this letter, but as the asthma did not get any better, I concluded -to come out here. Elliott and Corinne and Fräulein Anna and -Fräulein Emma came with me for the excursion. We started -in the train and then got out at a place some distance below -these rocks where we children took horses and came up here, -the two ladies following on foot. The scenery on the way and -all about here was exceedingly bold and beautiful. All the mountains, -if they deserve the name of mountains, have scarcely any -gradual decline. They descend abruptly and precipitously to -the plain. In fact, the sides of the mountains in most parts are -bare while the tops are covered with pine forests with here and -there jagged conical peaks rising from the foliage. There are -no long ranges, simply a number of sharp high hills rising from -a green fertile plain through which the river Elbe wanders. You -can judge from this that the scenery is really magnificent. I -have been walking in the forests collecting butterflies. I could -not but be struck with the difference between the animal life -of these forests and the palm groves of Egypt, (auld lang syne -now). Although this is in one of the wildest parts of Saxony -and South Germany, yet I do not think the proportion is as much -as one here for twenty there or around Jericho, and the difference -in proportion of species is even greater,—still the woods -are by no means totally devoid of inhabitants. Most of these -I had become acquainted with in Syria, and a few in Egypt. -The only birds I had not seen before were a jay and a bullfinch.”</p> - -<p>The above letter shows how true the boy was to his marked -tastes and his close observation of nature and natural history!</p> - -<p>After his return from the Bastei my brother’s asthma was -somewhat less troublesome, and, to show the vital quality which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80">80</a></span> -could never be downed, I quote a letter from “Ellie” to his aunt: -“Suddenly an idea has got hold of Teedie that we did not know -enough German for the time that we have been here, so he has -asked Miss Anna to give him larger lessons and of course I could -not be left behind so we are working harder than ever in our -lives.” How unusual the evidence of leadership is in this -young boy of not yet fifteen, who already inspires his pleasure-loving -little brother to work “harder than ever before in our -lives.” Many memories crowd back upon me as I think of those -days in the kind German family. The two sons, Herr Oswald -and Herr Ulrich, would occasionally return from Leipsig where -they were students, and always brought with them an aroma -of duels and thrilling excitement. Ulrich, in college, went by -the nickname of “Der Rothe Herzog,” The Red Duke, the appellation -being applied to him on account of his scarlet hair, his -equally rubicund face, and a red gash down the left side of his -face from the sword of an antagonist. Oswald had a very extraordinary -expression due to the fact that the tip end of his nose -had been nearly severed from his face in one of these same, apparently, -every-day affairs, and the physician who had restored -the injured feature to its proper environment had made the mistake -of sewing it a little on the bias, which gave this kind and -gentle young man a very sinister expression. In spite of their -practice in the art of duelling and a general ferocity of appearance, -they were sentimental to the last extent, and many -a time when I have been asked by Herr Oswald and Herr Ulrich -to read aloud to them from the dear old books “Gold Elsie” or -“Old Mam’selle’s Secret,” they would fall upon the sofa beside -me and dissolve in tears over any melancholy or romantic situation. -Their sensibilities and sentimentalities were perfectly incomprehensible -to the somewhat matter-of-fact and distinctly -courageous trio of young Americans, and while we could not -understand the spirit which made them willing, quite casually, -to cut off each other’s noses, we could even less understand their -lachrymose response to sentimental tales and their genuine terror<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81">81</a></span> -should a thunder-storm occur. “Ellie” describes in another -letter how all the family, in the middle of the night, because of -a sudden thunder-storm, crawled in between their mattresses -and woke the irrelevant and uninterested small Americans from -their slumbers to incite them to the same attitude of mind and -body. His description of “Teedie” under these circumstances is -very amusing, for he says: “Teedie woke up only for one minute, -turned over and said, ‘Oh—it’s raining and my hedgehog will -be all spoiled.’” He was speaking of a hedgehog that he had -skinned the day before and hung out of his window, but even -his hedgehog did not keep him awake and, much to the surprise -of the frightened Minckwitz family, he fell back into a heavy -sleep.</p> - -<p>In spite of the sentimentalities, in spite of the racial differences -of attitude about many things, the American children -owe much to the literary atmosphere that surrounded the family -life of their kind German friends. In those days in Dresden -the most beautiful representations of Shakespeare were given -in German, and, as the hour for the theatre to begin was six -o’clock in the evening, and the plays were finished by nine -o’clock, many were the evenings when we enjoyed “Midsummer -Night’s Dream,” “Twelfth Night,” “The Taming of the Shrew,” -and many more of Shakespeare’s wonderful fanciful creations, -given as they were with unusual sympathy and ability by the -actors of the German Theatre.</p> - -<p>Perhaps because of our literary studies and our ever-growing -interest in our own efforts in the famous Dresden Literary American -Club, we decided that the volume which became so precious -to us should, after all, have no commercial value, and in July I -write to my aunt the news which I evidently feel will be a serious -blow to her—that we have decided that we cannot sell the poems -and stories gathered into that immortal volume!</p> - -<p>About the middle of the summer there was an epidemic of -smallpox in Dresden and my mother hurriedly took us to the -Engadine, and there, at Samaden, we lived somewhat the life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82">82</a></span> -of our beloved Madison and Hudson River days. Our cousin -John Elliott accompanied us, and the three boys and their ardent -little follower, myself, spent endless happy hours in climbing -the surrounding mountains, only occasionally recalled by the -lenient “Fräulein Anna” to what were already almost forgotten -Teutonic studies. Later we returned to Dresden, and in spite -of the longing in our patriotic young hearts to be once more in -the land of the Stars and Stripes, I remember that we all parted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83">83</a></span> -with keen regret from the kind family who had made their little -American visitors so much at home.</p> - -<div id="if_i_082" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> - <img src="images/i_082.jpg" width="600" height="576" class="bbox tight" alt="" /></div> - -<div id="if_i_083" class="figcenter" style="width: 559px;"> - <img src="images/i_083.jpg" width="559" height="600" class="bbox tight" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">FACSIMILE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT’S LETTER OF SEPTEMBER 21, 1873, TO HIS OLDER SISTER</div></div> - -<p>A couple of letters from Theodore, dated September 21 and -October 5, bring to a close the experiences in Dresden, and show -in a special way the boy’s humor and the original inclination to -the quaint drawings which have become familiar to the American -people through the book, lately published, called “Theodore -Roosevelt’s Letters to His Children.” On September 21,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84">84</a></span> -1873, he writes to his older sister: “My dear darling Bamie,—I -wrote a letter on the receipt of yours, but Corinne lost it and -so I write this. Health; good. Lessons; good. Play hours; -bad. Appetite; good. Accounts; good. Clothes; greasy. -Shoes; holey. Hair; more ‘a-la-Mop’ than ever. Nails; dirty, -in consequence of having an ink bottle upset over them. Library; -beautiful. Museum; so so. Club; splendid. Our -journey home from Samaden was beautiful, except for the fact -that we lost our keys but even this incident was not without -its pleasing side. I reasoned philosophically on the subject; -I said: ‘Well, everything is for the best. For example, if I cannot -use my tooth brush tonight, at least, I cannot forget it to-morrow -morning. Ditto with comb and night shirt.’ In these -efforts of high art, I have taken particular care to imitate truthfully -the Chignons, bustles, grease-spots, bristles, and especially -my own mop of hair. The other day I much horrified the female -portion of the Minckwitz Tribe by bringing home a dead bat. -I strongly suspect that they thought I intended to use it as some -sorcerer’s charm to injure a foe’s constitution, mind and appetite. -As I have no more news to write, I will close with some -illustrations on the Darwinian theory. Your brother—Teedie.”</p> - -<p>The last letter, on October 5, was to his mother, and reads -in part as follows: “Corinne has been sick but is now well, at -least, she does not have the same striking resemblance to a half-starved -raccoon as she did in the severe stages of the disease.” -After a humorous description of a German conversation between -several members of his aunt’s family, he proceeds to “further -illustrations of the Darwinian theory” and closes his letter -by signing himself “Your affectionate son, Cranibus Giraffinus.”</p> - -<div id="if_i_085" class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> - <img src="images/i_085.jpg" width="384" height="600" class="bbox tight" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">FACSIMILE OF “SOME ILLUSTRATIONS ON THE DARWINIAN THEORY,” -CONTAINED IN THE LETTER OF SEPTEMBER 21, 1873</div></div> - -<p>Shortly before leaving Dresden I had my twelfth birthday -and the Minckwitz clan made every effort to make it a gay festival, -but perhaps the gift which I loved best was a letter received -that very morning from my beloved father; and in closing -this brief account of those days spent in Germany, because -of his wise decision to broaden our young horizons by new<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88">88</a></span> -thoughts and new studies, I wish once more, as I have done several -times in these pages, to quote from his words to the little -girl in whom he was trying to instil his own beautiful attitude -toward life: “Remember that almost every one will be kind to -you and will love you if you are only willing to receive their love -and are unselfish yourself. Unselfishness, you know, is the virtue -that I put above all others, and while it increases so much -the enjoyment of those about you, it adds infinitely more to -your own pleasure. Your future, in fact, depends very much -upon the cultivation of unselfishness, and I know that my darling -little girl wishes to practise this quality, but I do wish to -impress upon you its importance. As each year passes by, we -ought to look back to see what we have accomplished, and also -look forward to the future to make up for any deficiencies showing -thus a determination to do better, not wasting time in vain -regrets.” In many ways these words of my father, written when -we were so young and so malleable, and impressed upon us by -his ever-encouraging example, became one of the great factors -in making my brother into the type of man who will always -be remembered for that unselfishness instilled into him by his -father, and for the determination to do better each day of his -life without vain regret for what was already beyond recall.</p> - -<div id="if_i_086" class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;"> - <img src="images/i_086.jpg" width="374" height="600" class="bbox tight" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">FACSIMILE, ON THIS AND OPPOSITE PAGE, OF “FURTHER ILLUSTRATIONS OF -THE DARWINIAN THEORY,” IN HIS LETTER OF OCTOBER 5</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_087" class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;"> - <img src="images/i_087.jpg" width="374" height="600" class="bbox tight" alt="" /></div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Oyster Bay—The Happy Land of Woods and Waters</span></h3> - -<p>After our return to America the winter of 1874 was passed -at our new home at 6 West 57th Street. My brother was still -considered too delicate to send to a boarding-school, and various -tutors were engaged for his education, in which my brother Elliott -and I shared. Friendships of various kinds were begun -and augmented, especially the friendship with the little girl -Edith Carow, our babyhood friend, and another little girl, -Frances Theodora Smith, now Mrs. James Russell Parsons, to -whose friendship and comprehension my brother always turned -with affectionate appreciation. Inspired by the Dresden Literary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89">89</a></span> -American Club, the female members of our little coterie -formed a circle known by the name of P. O. R. E., to which the -“boys” were admitted on rare occasions. The P. O. R. E. had -also literary ambitions, and they proved a fit sequel to the eruditionary -D. L. A. C., which originated in the German family! -Mr. J. Coleman Drayton, Mr. Charles B. Alexander, and my -father were the only honorary members of the P. O. R. E.</p> - -<p>The summer of 1874 proved to be the forerunner of the happiest -summers of our lives, as my father decided to join the -colony which had been started by his family at Oyster Bay, -Long Island, and we rented a country place which, much to -the amusement of our friends, we named “Tranquillity.” Anything -less tranquil than that happy home at Oyster Bay could -hardly be imagined. Endless young cousins and friends of both -sexes and of every kind of varied interest always filled the simple -rooms and shared the delightful and unconventional life which -we led in that enchanted spot. Again I cannot say too much -of the way in which our parents allowed us liberty without -license. During those years—when Theodore was fifteen, sixteen, -and seventeen—every special delight seems connected -with Oyster Bay. We took long rides on horseback through -the lanes then so seemingly remote, so far from the thought of -the broad highways which now are traversed by thousands of -motors, but were then the scenes of picnics and every imaginable -spree. Our parents encouraged all mental and physical activity -and having, as I say, a large circle of young cousins settled around -us, we were never at a loss for companionship. One of our greatest -delights was to take the small rowboats with which we were -provided and row away for long days of happy leisure to what -then seemed a somewhat distant spot on the other side of the -bay, called Yellow Banks, where we would have our picnic lunch -and climb Cooper’s Bluff, and read aloud or indulge in poetry -contests and games which afforded us infinite amusement. One -of our favorite games was called Crambo. We each wrote a -question and each wrote a word, then all the words were put into<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90">90</a></span> -one hat and all the questions into another, and after each child -had drawn a question and a word, he or she was obliged to -answer the question and bring in the word in a verse. Amongst -my papers I find some of the old poetic efforts of those happy -summer days. One is dated Plum Point, Oyster Bay, 1875. I -remember the day as if it were yesterday; Theodore, who loved -to row in the hottest sun, over the roughest water, in the smallest -boat, had chosen his friend Edith as a companion; my cousin -West Roosevelt, the “Jimmie” of earlier childhood, whose love -of science and natural history was one of the joys that Theodore -found in his companionship, took as his companion my -friend Fannie Smith, now Mrs. Parsons, and my brother Elliott -and I made up the happy six. Lying on the soft sand of the -Point after a jolly luncheon, we played our favorite game, and -Theodore drew the question: “Why does West enjoy such a -dirty picnic?” The word which he drew was “golosh,” and -written on the other side of the paper in his own boyish handwriting -is his attempt to assimilate the query and the word!</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Because it is his nature to,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He finds <em>his</em> idyl in the dirt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if you do not sympathize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But find <em>yours</em> in some saucy flirt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why that is your affair you know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s like the choosing a (?) golosh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><em>You</em> doat upon a pretty face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><em>He</em> takes to carrots and hogwash.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Perhaps this sample of early verse may have led him later -into <em>other</em> paths than poetry!</p> - -<div id="if_i_091" class="figcenter" style="width: 503px;"> - <img src="images/i_091.jpg" width="503" height="600" class="bbox tight" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">FACSIMILE OF VERSES BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT FOR A FAVORITE GAME</div></div> - -<p>We did not always indulge in anything as light and humorous -as the above example of poetic fervor. I have in my possession -all kinds of competitive essays—on William Wordsworth, Washington -Irving, and Plutarch’s “Lives,” written by various members -of the happy group of young people at Oyster Bay; but -when not indulging in these literary efforts “Teedie” was always<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91">91</a></span> -studying his beloved natural history. At that time in his -life he became more and more determined to take up this study -as an actual career. My father had many serious talks with -him on the subject. He impressed the boy with the feeling that, -if he should thus decide upon a career which of necessity could -not be lucrative, it would mean the sacrifice of many of the pleasures -of which our parents’ environment had enabled us to partake.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92">92</a></span> -My father, however, also told the earnest young naturalist -that he would provide a small income for him, enabling him -to live simply, should he decide to give himself up to scientific -research work as the object of his life. During all those summers -at Oyster Bay and the winters in New York City, before going -to college, “Teedie” worked along the line of his chief interest -with a very definite determination to devote himself permanently -to that type of study. Our parents realized fully the -unusual quality of their son, they recognized the strength and -power of his character, the focussed and reasoning superiority -of his mentality, but I do not think they fully realized the extraordinary -quality of leadership which, hitherto somewhat -hampered by his ill health, was later to prove so great a factor, -not only in the circle of his immediate family and friends but in -the broader field of the whole country. He was growing stronger -day by day; already he had learned from those fine lumbermen, -“Will Dow” and “Bill Sewall,” who were his guides on -long hunting trips in the Maine woods, how to endure hardship -and how to use his rifle as an adept and his paddle as an expert.</p> - -<p>His body, answering to the insistence of his character, was -growing stronger day by day, and was soon to be an instrument -of iron to use in the future years.</p> - -<p>Mr. Arthur Cutler was engaged by my parents to be at -Oyster Bay during these summers to superintend the studies -of the two boys, and with his able assistance my brother was -well prepared for Harvard College, which he entered in September, -1876. It seems almost incredible that the puny, delicate -child, so suffering even three years before, could have started -his college life the peer, from a physical standpoint, of any of his -classmates. A light-weight boxer, a swift runner, and in every -way fitted to take his place, physically as well as mentally, in -the arena of college life, he entered Harvard College.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div id="if_i_092" class="figleft" style="width: 359px;"> - <img src="images/i_092.jpg" width="359" height="500" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Theodore Roosevelt, Oyster Bay, -September 21, 1875.</div></div> - -<div id="if_i_092a" class="figleft" style="width: 355px;"> - <img src="images/i_092a.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">Theodore Roosevelt, December, 1876, -aged eighteen.</div></div> -</div></div> - -<p>In looking back over our early childhood there stands out -clearly before me, as the most important asset of the atmosphere -of our home, the joy of life, combined with an earnest effort for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93">93</a></span> -spiritual and intellectual benefit. As I write I can hear my -father’s voice calling us to early “Morning Prayers” which it -was his invariable custom to read just before breakfast. Even -this religious service was entered into with the same joyous zest -which my father had the power of putting into every act of his -life, and he had imbued us with the feeling that it was a privilege -rather than a duty to be present, and that also the place of honor -while we listened to the reading of the Bible was the seat on the -sofa between him and the end of the sofa. When we were little -children in the nursery, as he called to us to come to prayers, -there would be a universal shout of “I speak for you and the -cubby-hole too,” the “cubby-hole” being this much-desired -seat; and as my brother grew to man’s estate these happy and -yet serious memories were so much a part of him that when the -boy of eighteen left Oyster Bay that September afternoon in -1876, to take up the new life which the entrance into college -always means for a young man, he took with him as the heritage -of his boyhood not only keen joy in the panorama of life which -now unrolled before him but the sense of duty to be performed, -of opportunity to be seized, of high resolve to be squared with -practical and effective action, all of which had been part of the -teaching of his father, the first Theodore Roosevelt.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94">94</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="IV"></a>IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">COLLEGE CHUMS AND NEW-FOUND LEADERSHIP</span></h2> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">During</span> the winter and summer of 1876, preceding that -September when Theodore Roosevelt left his home for -Harvard College, he had entered more fully into the -social life of the boys and girls of his immediate acquaintance. -As a very young boy, there was something of the recluse about -him, although in his actual family (and that family included a -number of cousins) he was always the ringleader. His delicate -health and his almost abnormal literary and scientific tastes -had isolated him somewhat from the hurly-burly of ordinary -school life, and even ordinary vacation life; but during the winter -of 1876 he had enjoyed to the full a dancing-class which my -mother had organized the winter before, and that dancing-class -sowed the seeds of many friendships. The Livingston, Clarkson, -Potter, and Rutherfurd boys, and amongst the girls my -friends Edith Carow, Grace Potter, Fannie Smith, Annie Murray, -and myself, formed the nucleus in this dancing-class, and -the informal “Germans” (as they were called in those days) -and all the merriment connected with happy skating-parties -and spring picnics in Central Park cemented relationships which -lasted faithfully through later days. My brother Elliott, more -naturally a <em>social</em> leader, influenced the young naturalist to -greater interest in his <em>humankind</em>, and when the spring merged -into happy summer at Oyster Bay, Theodore was already showing -a keener pleasure in intercourse with young people of his -own age.</p> - -<p>In a letter to “Edith” early in the summer, I write of an -expedition which he took across the bay to visit another girl -friend. He started at five o’clock in the morning and reached<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95">95</a></span> -the other shore at eight o’clock. Thinking it too early to pay -a call, he lay down on a large rock and went to sleep, waking up -to find his boat had drifted far away. When he put on his spectacles -he could see the boat at a distance, but, of course, did -not wish to swim with his clothes on, and decided to remove -them temporarily. Having secured the boat, he forgot that -it might be wise to put on his clothes before sleeping again under -the dock. To his perfect horror, waking suddenly about an -hour later, the boat, clothes, and all had vanished. At the same -moment he heard the footsteps of his fair inamorata on the -wooden planks of the dock above his head. She had walked -down with a friend to greet the admirer whom she expected at -about nine o’clock. His description of his feelings as he lay shivering, -though not from cold, while above him they calmly discussed -his probable arrival and the fact that they thought they -would wait there to greet him, can probably be imagined. The -girls, after a period of long waiting, walked away into the woods, -and the self-conscious young man proceeded to swim down a -hidden creek where he thought the tide had taken his recalcitrant -boat, and where, sure enough, he found it. The sequel to this -little story throws much light on masculine human nature, for -he conceived an aversion to the lady who so unconsciously had -put him in this foolish position, and rowed defiantly back to -Oyster Bay without paying the proposed visit!</p> - -<p>During that summer my father, who always gave his children -such delightful surprises, drilled us himself in a little play -called “To Oblige Benson,” in which Theodore took the part -of an irascible and absent-minded farmer, and our beloved cousin -John Elliott the part of an impassioned lover, while my friend -Fannie Smith and I were the heroines of the adventures. My -father’s efforts to make Theodore into a farmer and John into -a lover were commendable though not eminently successful, -but all that he did for us in those ways gave to his children a -certain ease in writing and speaking which were to be of great -value in later years. Fannie Smith, to show how Theodore<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96">96</a></span> -still dominated the little circle from the standpoint of intellect, -writes that same July: “I have no power to write sensibly today. -If I were writing to Theodore I would have to say something -of this kind, ‘I have enjoyed Plutarch’s last essay on the -philosophy of Diogenes excessively.’” In his early college days, -however, he seems temporarily to put the “philosophy of Diogenes” -aside, and to become a very normal, simple, pleasure-loving -youth, who, however, always retained his earnest moral -purpose and his realization that education was a tool for future -experience, and, therefore, not to be neglected.</p> - -<p>He writes on November 26, 1876: “I now belong to another -whist club, composed of Harry Minot, Dick Saltonstall and a -few others. They are very quiet fellows but also very pleasant. -Harry Minot was speaking to me the other day about our making -a collecting trip in the White Mountains together next summer. -I think it would be good fun.” The result of that collecting trip -will be shown a little later in this chapter. On December 14 -he writes again: “Darling Pussie [his pet name for me]: I ought -to have written you long ago but I am now having examinations -all the time, and am so occupied in studying for them that -I have very little time for myself, and you know how long it -takes me to write a letter. My only excitement lately has been -the dancing class which is very pleasant. I may as well describe -a few of my chief friends.” He then gives an account of his -specially intimate companions, and speaks as follows of one -whose name has become prominent in the annals of his country’s -history as able financier, secretary of state, and colonel -in the American Expeditionary Force—Robert Bacon: “Bob -Bacon is the handsomest man in the class and is as pleasant -as he is handsome. He is only sixteen, but is very large.” He -continues to say that he would love to bring home a few of his -friends at Christmas time, and concludes: “I should like a party -very much if it is <em>perfectly</em> convenient.” The party proved a -delightful Christmas experience, and the New York girls and -Boston boys fraternized to their hearts’ content. On his return<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97">97</a></span> -to Cambridge after these Christmas holidays he writes one of -his amusing, characteristic little notes, interspersed with quaint -drawings. “Darling Pussie: I delivered your two notes safely -and had a very pleasant journey on in the cars. To drown my -grief at parting from you all, I took refuge, not in the flowing -bowl, but in the <cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite> and <cite>Harper’s Magazine</cite>—not -to mention squab sandwiches. A journey in the cars always -renders me sufficiently degraded to enjoy even the love stories -in the latter magazine. I think that if I was forced to travel -across the continent, towards the end of my journey, I should -read dime novels with avidity. Good-bye darling. Your loving -Tedo.”</p> - -<p>The signature was followed by accurate representations of -<cite>Harper’s Magazine</cite>, <cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite>, and the squab sandwich, -which he labels “my three consolations”!</p> - -<p>A letter dated February 5, 1877, shows the Boston of those -days in a very pleasant light. He begins: “Little Pussie: I -have had a very pleasant time this week as, in fact, I have every -week. It was cram week for ‘Conic Sections’ but, by using most -of my days for study, I had two evenings, besides Saturday, -free. On Wednesday evening, Harry Jackson gave a large sleighing -party; this was great fun for there were forty girls and fellows -and two matrons in two huge sleighs. We sang songs for -a great part of the time for we soon left Boston and were dragged -by our eight horses rapidly through a great many of the pretty -little towns which form the suburbs of Boston. One of the girls -looked quite like Edith only not nearly as pretty as her ladyship. -We came home from our sleigh ride about nine and then -danced until after twelve. I led the German with Harry Jackson’s -cousin, Miss Andrews. After the party, Bob Bacon, Arthur -Hooper, myself and some others, came out in a small sleigh -to Cambridge, making night hideous with our songs. On Saturday -I went with Minot Weld to an Assembly (a juvenile one I -mean) at Brookline. This was a very swell affair, there being -about sixty couples in the room. I enjoyed myself very much<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98">98</a></span> -indeed.... I came home today in time for my Sunday-school -class; I am beginning to get very much interested in my scholars, -especially in one who is a very orderly and bright little fellow—two -qualities which I have not usually found combined. -Thank Father for his dear letter. Your loving brother, Ted.”</p> - -<p>The above letter shows how normal a life the young man -was leading, how simply and naturally he was responding to -the friendly hospitality of his new Boston friends. Boston had -welcomed him originally for the sake of his older sister, who, -during two charming summer visits to Bar Harbor, Maine, had -made many New England friends. The Sunday-school which -he mentions, and to which he gave himself very faithfully, proved -a big test of character, for it was a great temptation to go with -the other fellows on Saturday afternoons to Chestnut Hill or -Brookline or Milton, where open house was kept by the Lees, -Saltonstalls, Whitneys, and other friends, and it was very hard -either to refuse their invitation from the beginning or to leave -the merry parties early Sunday morning and return to Cambridge -to be at his post to teach the unruly little people of the -slums of Cambridge. So deeply, however, had the first Theodore -Roosevelt impressed his son with the necessity of giving himself -and the attainments with which his superior advantages had -endowed him to those less fortunate than he, that all through -the first three years of his college life he only failed to appear -at his Sunday-school class twice, and then he arranged to have -his class taken by a friend. Truly, when <em>he</em> put his hand to the -plough he never turned back.</p> - -<p>On March 27 of his first year at college he writes again in -his usual sweet way to his younger sister: “Little Pet Pussie: -95 per cent <em>will</em> help my average. I want to pet you again awfully! -You cunning, pretty, little, foolish Puss. My easy chair -would just hold myself and Pussie.” Again on April 15: “Little -Pussie: Having given Motherling an account of my doings up -to yesterday, I have reserved the more frivolous part for little -pet Pussie. Yesterday, in the afternoon, Minot Weld drove<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99">99</a></span> -me over to his house and at six o’clock we sallied forth in festive -attire to a matinée ‘German’ at Dorchester which broke up -before eleven o’clock. This was quite a swell affair, there being -about 100 couples.... I spent last night with the Welds and -walked back over here to Forest Hill with Minot in the afternoon, -collecting a dozen snakes and salamanders on the way.” -Still the natural historian, even although on pleasure bent; so -snakes and salamanders hold their own in spite of “swell matinée -Germans.” From Forest Hill that same Sunday he writes -a more serious letter to his father: “Darling Father: I am spending -my Easter vacation with the Minots, who, with their usual -kindness, asked me to do so. I did not go home for I knew I -should never be able to study there. I have been working pretty -steadily, having finished during the last five days, the first book -of Horace, the sixth book of Homer, and the ‘Apology of Socrates.’ -In the afternoon, some of the boys usually come out -to see me and we spend that time in the open air, and on Saturday -evening I went to a party, but during the rest of the time -I have been working pretty faithfully. I spent today, Sunday, -with the Welds and went to their church where, although it was -a Unitarian Church, I heard a really remarkably good sermon -about ‘The Attributes of a Christian.’ I have enjoyed all your -letters very much and my conscience reproaches me greatly -for not writing you before, but as you may imagine, I have had -to study pretty hard to make up for lost time, and a letter with -me is very serious work. Your loving son, T. R. Jr.”</p> - -<p>On June 3, as his class day approaches, and after a visit to -Cambridge on the part of my father, who had given me and my -sister and friends Edith Carow and Maud Elliott the treat of -accompanying him, Theodore writes: “Sweet Pussie: I enjoyed -your visit so much and so did all of my friends. I am so -glad you like my room, and next year I hope to have it even -prettier when you all come on again.” His first class day was -not specially notable, but he finished his freshman year standing -high in his class and having made a number of good friends,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100">100</a></span> -although at that period I do not think that he was in any marked -degree a leader amongst the young men of the class. He was -regarded more as an all-round good sport, a fellow of high ideals -from which he never swerved, and one at whom his companions, -who, except Harry Minot, had not very strong literary affiliations, -were always more or less surprised because of the way in -which their otherwise perfectly normal comrade sank into complete -oblivion when the magic pages of a book were unrolled -before him.</p> - -<p>That summer, shortly after class day, he and Harry Minot -took their expedition to the Adirondacks with the following results, -namely: a catalogue written in the mountains of “The -Summer Birds of the Adirondacks in Franklin County, N. Y., -by Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., and H. D. Minot.” This catalogue -was sent to me by Mr. John D. Sherman, Jr., of Mt. Vernon, -N. Y. He tells me that it was originally published in 1877 and -favorably mentioned soon after publication in the <cite>Nuttall Bulletin</cite>. -Mr. Sherman thinks that the paper was “privately” -published, and it was printed by Samuel E. Casino, of Salem, -who, when a mere boy, started in the natural-history-book business. -The catalogue shows such careful observation and such -perseverance in the accumulation of data by the two young college -boys that I think the first page worthy of reproduction as -one of the early evidences of the careful study Theodore Roosevelt -had given to the subject which always remained throughout -his life one of the nearest to his heart.</p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="p1 center">[Facsimile:</p> - -<p class="center larger"><span class="bold">THE SUMMER BIRDS</span><br /><br /> - -<span class="wspace">OF THE ADIRONDACKS IN FRANKLIN COUNTY, N. Y.</span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Jr., and H. D. MINOT</span></p> - -<p class="p2">The following catalogue (written in the mountains) is based upon observations -made in August, 1874, August, 1875, and June 22d to July 9th, -1877, especially about the Saint Regis Lakes, Mr. Minot having been with -me, only during the last week of June. Each of us has used his initials -in making a statement which the other has not verified.</p> - -<p class="p0 sigright"><span class="smcap">Theodore Roosevelt</span>, Jr.</p> - -<p class="p1">The general features of the Adirondacks, in those parts which we have -examined, are the many lakes, the absence of <em>mountain</em>-brooks, the luxuriant -forest-growth (the taller deciduous trees often reaching the height -of a hundred feet, and the White Pines even that of a hundred and thirty), -the sandy soil, the cool, invigorating air, and both a decided wildness and -levelness of country as compared with the diversity of the White Mountain -region.</p> - -<p>The <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">avifauna</i> is not so rich as that of the latter country, because wanting -in certain “Alleghanian” birds found there, and also in species -belonging especially to the Eastern or North-eastern Canadian fauna. -Nests, moreover, seem to be more commonly inaccessible, and rarely -built beside roads or wood-paths, as they often are in the White Mountains. M.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="figspace"><b>1. Robin.</b> <i>Turdus migratorius</i> (Linnæus). Moderately common. -Sometimes found in the woods.</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>2. Hermit Thrush.</b> <i>Turdus Pallasi</i> (Cabanis). Common. Sings -until the middle of August (R.).</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>3. Swainson’s Thrush.</b> <i>Turdus Swainsoni</i> (Cabanis). The commonest -thrush.</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>4. Cat-bird.</b> <i>Mimus Carolinensis</i> (Linnæus). Observed beyond the -mountains to the northward, near Malone.</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>5. Blue Bird.</b> <i>Sialia sialis</i> (Linnæus). Common near Malone.</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>6. Golden-crowned “Wren.”</b> <i>Regulus satrapa</i> (Lichten.). Quite -common; often heard singing in June.</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>7. Chickadee.</b> <i>Parus atricapillus</i> (Linnæus). Rather scarce in -June. Abundant in August (R.).</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>8. Hudsonian Chickadee.</b> <i>Parus Hudsonicus</i> (Forster). Found -in small flocks at Bay Pond in the early part of August (R.).</p> - -<p class="figspace"><b>9. Red-bellied Nuthatch.</b> <i>Sitta Canadensis</i> (Linnæus). Common. -The White-bellied Nuthatch has not been observed here by us.</p> - -<p><b>10. Brown Creeper.</b> <i>Certhia familiaris</i> (Linnæus). Common.</p> - -<p><b>11. Winter Wren.</b> <i>Troglodytes hyemalis</i> (Vieillot). Moderately -common.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="center wspace"><span class="smcap">FACSIMILE OF THE FIRST PAGE OF THE “CATALOGUE OF SUMMER BIRDS,” -MADE IN 1877 BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Jr., AND H. D. MINOT</span>]</p> -</div> - -<p>His love of poetry in those days became a very living thing, -and the summer following his first college year was one in which -the young people of Oyster Bay turned with glad interest to the -riches not only of nature but of literature as well. I find among -my papers, painstakingly copied in red ink in my brother’s handwriting, -Swinburne’s poem “The Forsaken Garden.” He had -sent it to me, copying it from memory when on a trip to the -Maine woods. Later, on his return, we would row by moonlight -to “Cooper’s Bluff” (near which spot he was eventually<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101">101</a><a class="hidev" id="Page_102">102</a></span> -to build his beloved home, Sagamore Hill), and there, having -climbed the sandy bulwark, we would sit on the top of the ledge -looking out on the shimmering waters of the Sound, and he would -recite with a lilting swing in the tone of his voice which matched -the rhythm of the words:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the sea down’s edge, twixt windward and lee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walled round by rocks like an inland island,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ghost of a garden fronts the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A girdle of brush-wood and thorn encloses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The steep-scarred slope of the blossomless bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now lie dead.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">He always loved the rhythm of Swinburne, just as he loved later -the wonderful ringing lines of Kipling, which he taught to his -children and constantly repeated to himself.</p> - -<p>In the summer of 1877 the two brothers, Elliott and Theodore, -decided to row from Oyster Bay in their small boats to -Whitestone, near Flushing, where my aunt Mrs. Gracie was -living in an old farmhouse. Elliott was really the sailor of the -family, an expert sailor, too, and loved to manage his 20-footer, -with able hand, in the stormiest weather, but Theodore craved -the actual effort of the arms and back, the actual sense of meeting -the wave close to and not from the more sheltered angle of -a sailboat; and so the two young brothers who were perfectly -devoted to each other started on the more adventurous trip -together. They were caught in one of the sudden storms of the -Long Island Sound, and their frail boats were very nearly -swamped, but the luck which later became with Theodore Roosevelt -almost proverbial, was with them, and the two exhausted -and bedraggled, wave-beaten boys arrived sorely in need of the -care of the devoted aunt who, as much as in the days when she -taught their A B C’s to the children of the nursery of 20th Street, -was still their guardian angel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103">103</a></span> -In September, 1877, Theodore returns as a sophomore to -Cambridge and writes in October again: “Sweet Pussie: Thank -you ever so much, darling, for the three, cunning, little books -which I am going to call my ‘Pussie Books.’ They were just -what I wanted. In answer to your question, I may say that it -does not seem to make the slightest difference to Brooks and -Hooper that they have been dropped, although Brooks is universally -called ‘Freshie.’ My respect for the qualities of my -classmates has much increased lately, by the way, as they now -no longer seem to think it necessary to confine their conversation -exclusively to athletic subjects. I was especially struck by this -the other night, when, after a couple of hours spent in boxing -and wrestling with Arthur Hooper and Ralph Ellis, it was proposed -to finish the evening by reading aloud from Tennyson -and we became so interested in ‘In Memoriam’ that it was past -one o’clock when we separated.” (Evidently the lover of books -was beginning to be a leader in making his associates share his -love of the poets.)</p> - -<p>In November he writes again: “I sat up last night until -twelve, reading ‘Poems & Poets’; some of the boys came down -to my room and we had a literary coffee party. They became -finally interested in Edgar Poe—probably because they could -not understand him.” My brother always had a great admiration -for Edgar Allan Poe, and would chant “The Raven” and -“Ulalume” in a strange, rather weird, monotonous tone. He -especially delighted in the reference to “the Dank Tarn of Auber” -and the following lines:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“I knew not the month was October,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew not the day of the year,—”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Poe’s rhythm and curious, suggestive, melancholy quality -of perfection affected strongly his imagination, and he placed -him high in rank amongst the poets of his time.</p> - -<p>One can picture the young men, strong and vigorous, wrestling -and boxing together in Theodore Roosevelt’s room, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104">104</a></span> -then putting aside their athletic contests, making their coffee -with gay nonchalance, and settling down to a night of poetry, led -in the paths of literature by the blue-eyed young “Berserker,” -as my mother used to call Theodore in those college days.</p> - -<p>During the summer of 1877 my father accompanied my sister -Anna to Bar Harbor on one of her annual excursions to that -picturesque part of the Maine coast, where they visited Mr. -George Minot and his sisters. He writes to my mother in his -usual vein of delightful interest in people, books, and nature, -and seems more vigorous than ever, for he describes wonderful -walks over the mountains and speaks of having achieved a reputation -as a mountain-climber. How little any of the family -who adored him realized that from a strain engendered by that -climbing the seed of serious trouble had been sown in that splendid -mechanism, and that in a few short months the vigorous -and still young man of forty-six was to lay down that useful life -which had been given so ardently and unselfishly for the good -of his city and the joy and benefit of his family.</p> - -<p>At this time, however, when Theodore went back to college -as a sophomore, there was no apprehension about my father’s -health, and the first term of the college year was passed in his -usual happy activities.</p> - -<p>Shortly after the New Year my father’s condition became -serious, due to intestinal trouble, and the following weeks were -passed in anxious nursing, the distress of which was greatly accentuated -by the frightful suffering of the patient, who, however, -in spite of constant agony, bore the sudden shattering of -his wonderful health with magnificent courage. My brother -Theodore could not realize, as did my brother Elliott, who was -at home, the serious condition of our father, for it was deemed -best that he should not return from college, where difficult examinations -required all his application and energy. Elliott -gave unstintedly a devotion which was so tender that it was -more like that of a woman, and his young strength was poured -out to help his father’s condition. The best physicians searched<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105">105</a></span> -in vain for remedy for the hidden trouble, but in spite of all their -efforts the first Theodore Roosevelt died, February 9, 1878, -and the gay young college sophomore was recalled to a house of -mourning. In spite of the sorrow, in spite of a sense of irreparable -loss, there was something infinitely inspiring in the days -preceding and following my father’s death. When New York -City knew that its benefactor lay in extreme illness, it seemed as -if the whole city came to the door of his home to ask news of -him. How well I remember the day before his death, when the -papers had announced that there was but little hope of his -recovery. The crowd of individuals who filled 57th Street in -their effort to hear the physicians’ bulletin concerning his condition -was huge and varied. Newsboys from the West Side Lodging -House, little Italian girls from his Sunday-school class, sat -for hours on the stone steps of 6 West 57th Street, our second -home, waiting with anxious intensity for news of the man who -meant more to them than any other human being had ever -meant before; and those more fortunate ones who had known -him in another way drove unceasingly up in their carriages to -the door and looked with sympathetic interest at the children -of the slums who shared with them such a sense of bitter bereavement -and loss in the premature death of one so closely -connected with all sides of his beloved native city.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the family of the first Theodore Roosevelt seemed -hardly able to face the blank that life meant when he left them, -but they also felt that the man who had preached always that -“one must live for the living” would have wished “his own” -to follow out his ideal of life, and so each one of us took up, as -bravely as we could, our special duties and felt that our close -family tie must be made stronger rather than weaker by the -loss that we had sustained.</p> - -<p>On March 3, 1878, my brother writes from Cambridge:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>My own darling, sweet, little treasure of a Pussie: Oh! I -have so longed for you at times during the last few days. Darling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106">106</a></span> -one, you can hardly know what an inestimable blessing to -a fellow it is to have such a home as I have. Even now that -our dear father has been taken away, it is such a great pleasure -to look forward to a visit home; and indeed, he has only ‘gone -before,’ and oh! what living and loving memories he has left -behind him. I can <em>feel</em> his presence sometimes when I am sitting -alone in the evening; I have not felt nearly as sad as I expected -to feel, although, of course, there are every now and then very -bitter moments. I am going to bring home some of his sweet -letters to show you. I shall always keep them, if merely as talismans -against evil. Kiss little mother for me, and my love to -Aunt Susie and Uncle Hill. [My mother and I were staying in -Philadelphia with my aunt Mrs. West.] Tell the latter, Uncle -Hill, I am looking forward to spending a month of nude happiness -with him next summer among the wilds of Oyster Bay.</p> - -<p class="sigright"><span class="smcap">Your loving Teddy.</span></p> -</blockquote> - -<p>When my brother speaks of keeping my father’s letters to -him as “talismans against evil,” he not only expressed the feeling -of desire to keep near him always the actual letters written -by my father, but far more the spirit with which these letters -are permeated. Years afterward, when the college boy of 1878 -was entering upon his duties as President of the United States, -he told me frequently that he never took any serious step or -made any vital decision for his country without thinking first -what position his father would have taken on the question. The -day that he moved into the White House happened to be September -22, the day of my father’s birth, and dining with him -that night in the White House for the first time, we all mentioned -this fact and felt that it was a good omen for the future, -and my brother said that every time he dated a letter that day -he felt with a glow of tender memory the realization that it was -his father’s birthday, and that his father’s blessing seemed specially -to follow him on that first day when he made his home in -the beautiful old white mansion which stands in the heart of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107">107</a></span> -America for all that America means to her sons and daughters.</p> - -<p>Several other equally loving letters in that March of 1878 -proved how the constant thoughts of the young sophomore -turned to the family at home, and also his own sense of loss -in his father’s death, but I think the many interests and normal -surroundings brought their healing power to the boy of nineteen, -and at the end of that year of his college life he had become a -well-rounded character. His mind, intelligently focussed upon -many intellectual subjects, had broadened in scope, and physically -he was no longer the delicate, dreamy boy of earlier days. -The period of his college life, although not one of as unusual -interest as perhaps other periods in his life, was of inestimable -value in the forming of his character. Had Theodore Roosevelt -continued to be abnormally developed along the scientific -and intellectual side of his nature, he would never have become -the “All-American” which he was destined to be. It was necessary -for him to fall into more commonplace grooves; it was -necessary for him to meet the young men of his age on common -ground, to get the “give-and-take” of a life very different from -the more or less individual life which, owing to his ill health and -intellectual aspirations, he had hitherto led, and already, by the -end of the second year of college, he was beginning to take a -place in the circle of his friends which showed in an embryonic -way the leadership which later was to be so strongly evidenced.</p> - -<p>On October 8, 1878, returning to Cambridge as a junior, he -writes to his mother: “Darling, beloved, little motherling: I -have just loved your dear, funny, pathetic, little letter, and I -am now going to write you the longest letter I ever write, and -if it is still rather short, you must recollect that it takes Teddy-boy -a long time to write. I have enjoyed Charlie Dickey’s being -here extremely, and I think I have been of some service to him. -We always go to prayers together; for his own sake, I have not -been much with him in the daytime, but every evening, we spend -a good part of the time together in my room or his. He is just<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108">108</a></span> -the same, honest, fine fellow as ever, and unless I am very much -mistaken, is going to make a thorough success in every way of -college. My studies do not come very well this year, as I have -to work nearly as hard on Saturday as on any other day—six, -seven or eight hours. Some of the studies are extremely interesting, -however, especially Political Economy and Metaphysics. -These are both rather hard, requiring a good deal of work, but -they are even more interesting than my Natural History courses; -and all the more so from the fact that I radically disagree on -many points with the men whose books we are reading, (Mill -and Ferrier). One of my zoological courses is rather dry, but -the other I like very much, though it necessitates ten or twelve -hours’ work a week. My German is not very interesting, but I -expect that my Italian will be when I get further on. For exercise, -I have had to rely on walking, but today I have regularly -begun sparring. I practice a good deal with the rifle, walking -to and from the range, which is nearly three miles off; my scores -have been fair, although not very good. Funnily enough, I -have enjoyed quite a burst of popularity since I came back, -having been elected into several different clubs. My own friends -have, as usual, been perfect trumps, and I have been asked to -spend Sundays with at least a half-dozen of them, but I have -to come back to Cambridge Sunday mornings on account of -Sunday School, which makes it more difficult to pay visits. I -indulged in a luxury the other day in buying ‘The Library of -British Poets,’ and I delight in my purchase very much, but I -have been so busy that I have hardly had time to read it yet. -I shall really have to have a new bookcase for I have nowhere -to put my books.... Your loving son, T. Jr.”</p> - -<p>The above letter is of distinct interest for several reasons: -first of all, because of the affectionate pains taken by the young -man of now nearly twenty to keep his mother informed about -all his activities, intellectual, physical, and social. So many -young men of that age are careless of the great interest taken -by their mothers and do not share with them the joys and difficulties -of college life. All through his life, from his boyhood<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109">109</a></span> -to the very last weeks of his busy existence, my brother Theodore -was a great sharer. This is all the more unusual because, as a -rule, the man of intellectual pursuits is apt to deny himself to -the claims of family and friends, but not so with Theodore Roosevelt, -except during the period of some specially hard task, when -he would give himself to it to the exclusion of every other interest. -Unless during such rare periods, no member of his family -ever went to him for guidance or solace or interest without the -most generous and most loving response. In the above letter he -shows his response to the tender inquiries of his mother, so lately -widowed, and he wishes to give her all the information that -she desires. One can see that the young junior, as he now was, -was coming into his own in more ways than one. He is working -harder intellectually; already metaphysics and political economy -are catching up with “natural history” in his affections, and, -in fact, outdistancing the latter. His individual point of view -is shown by the fact that he “radically disagrees on many points -with Mill and Ferrier,” and he again shows the persevering determination, -so largely a part of his character, in the way in -which he walks to and fro the three miles to practise with his -rifle at the range. The modest way in which he speaks of his -“burst of popularity” is also very characteristic, for he received -the unusual distinction of being invited to join several of the -most popular clubs. Altogether, this letter in which he tells, -although he makes no point of it, of his still faithful service at -Sunday-school, no matter how much it interferes with the gay -week-end visits which he so much enjoys, and the glimpse which -he gives us of his love of poetry as an offset to his harder -studies, seems to me to depict in a lovable and admirable light -the young Harvard student.</p> - -<p>Having written in this accurate way to his mother, within -a month he writes to his younger sister:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Sweet Pussie: I am spending Sunday with Minot Weld. -It is a beautiful day and this afternoon we are going to drive -over to Dick Saltonstall’s where we shall go out walking with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110">110</a></span> -Miss Rose Saltonstall and Miss Alice Lee, and drive home by -moonlight after tea. I have begun studying fairly hard now, -and shall keep it up until Christmas. I am afraid I shall not -be able to come home for Thanksgiving; I really have my hands -full, especially now that my Political Economy Professor wishes -me to start a Finance Club, which would be very interesting -indeed, and would do us all a great deal of good, but which will -also take up a great deal of time. Of course, I spend a good -deal of my spare time in the Porcellian Club which is great fun. -Night before last, Harry Shaw and I gave a little supper up -there, the chief items on the bill of fare were partridges and -Burgundy,—I, confining myself to the partridges. I am going -to cut Sunday school today for the second time this year, but -when the weather is so beautiful as this, I like every now and -then to spend Sunday with a friend. Harry Chapin is going to -take my class for me today. Good-bye sweet <span class="locked">one,—</span></p> - -<p class="sigright"><span class="smcap">Your Loving Tedo.</span></p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Here again we see the growth of the young man, the growth -of his influence in his class, for it is to him that the Political -Economy professor turns to start a finance club, and we see also -the proportionate all-round development, for not only does he -read poetry, start finance clubs, differ with Mill and Ferrier on -abstract subjects, but also joins with Harry Shaw in a little supper -of partridges and Burgundy—he confining himself, I would -have my readers know, to the partridges! Theodore Roosevelt -was growing in every way and especially becoming the more -all-round man, and it was well that this growth should take -place, for if the all-round man can still keep focussed ideals and -strong determination to achieve in individual directions, it is -because of the all-round qualities that he becomes the leader -of men. Again the happy Christmas holidays came, but this -time shadowed by the great blank made by my father’s loss, -and in February, 1879, he writes again—now of happy coasting-parties -at the Saltonstalls’, where began his intimate relationship<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111">111</a></span> -with lovely Alice Lee, who later became his wife. One can -see the merry young people flying, as he says, “like the wind,” -on their long toboggans, and then having a gay dance at the -hospitable house of Mrs. Lee.</p> - -<p>In March he writes: “I only came out second best in the -sparring contest, but I do not care very much for I have had -uncommonly good luck in everything this year from studies to -society. I enjoyed my trip to Maine very much indeed; of -course, I fell behind in my studies, but by working pretty hard -last week, I succeeded in nearly catching up again.” This trip -to Maine cemented the great friendship between my brother -and those splendid backwoodsmen, Bill Sewall and Will Dow, -who were later to be partners in his ranching venture in the Far -West. Bill Sewall was a strong influence in my brother’s young -manhood, and for him great admiration was conceived by the -young city boy and, later, by the college student. The splendid, -simple, strong man of the woods, though not having had similar -educational advantages, was still so earnest a reader and so -natural a philosopher that his attitude toward books and life -had lasting influence over his young companion.</p> - -<p>About this same time, March, 1879, my brother wrote me -one of the sweetest and most characteristic of his little love-letters. -It was dated from the Porcellian Club on March 28, -and enclosed a diminutive birch-bark book of poetry, and the -letter ran as follows: “Wee Pussy, I came across such a funny, -wee book of poetry today, and I send it to a wee, funny Kitty -Coo, with Teddy’s best love.” The page on which the sweet -words are written is yellow, but the little birch-bark book is -still intact, and the great love engendered by the tender thought -of, and expression of that thought to, his sister is even deeper -than when the sweet words were actually written.</p> - -<div id="if_i_112" class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;"> - <img src="images/i_112.jpg" width="490" height="600" class="bbox tight" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p>LETTER TO CORINNE ROOSEVELT ACCOMPANYING “BIRCH BARK POEMS”</p></div></div> - -<p>On May 3 he writes in a humorous vein: “Pet Pussie: At -last the deed is done and I have shaved off my whiskers! The -consequence, I am bound to add, is that I look like a dissolute -democrat of the Fourth Ward; I send you some tintypes I had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112">112</a></span> -taken; the front views are pretty good, although giving me -an expression of glum misery that I sincerely hope is not natural. -The side views do not resemble me any more than they do -Michael Angelo or John A. Weeks. The next four months are -going to be one ‘demnition grind’ but by great good luck, I shall<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113">113</a></span> -be able to leave here June 5th, I think.” The whiskers were -permanently removed and never again reappeared, except on -his hunting trip the following year, and I think he felt, himself, -that the lack of them added a touch of elegance to his appearance, -for he writes again within a day or two: “I rode over on -Saturday morning (very swell with hunting crop and beaver) -to Chestnut Hill where I took lunch with the Lees.” He is beginning -to be quite a gentleman of fashion, and so the care-free -days glide by, another summer comes, with pleasant visits, and -another Maine woods excursion; but even when writing in the -midst of house-parties of bewildering gaiety, he adds at the -end of a long letter in August, 1879, “For my birthday, among -the books I most want are the complete editions of Prescott, -Motley, and Carlyle,” and signs himself “Your loving St. Buv.,” -a new pet name which he had given himself and which was a -conglomerate of St. Beuve, for whose writings he had great admiration, -and the brother for whom his little sister had such -great admiration.</p> - -<p>His last year at college was one of equal growth, although -the development was not as apparent as in his junior year, and -in June, 1880, he graduated with honors, a happy, successful -Harvard alumnus. A number of his New York friends went -on for class day, and all made merry together, and not long afterwards -he and his brother Elliott started on a hunting trip together. -Elliott, who as a young child had been the strong one, -when Theodore was a delicate little boy, had, during the years of -adolescence, been somewhat of an invalid and could not go to -college; our father, wise as ever, decided he must have his education -in another way, and he arranged for Elliott to spend several -years largely in the open air. He became a splendid shot, -and my brother Theodore always felt that Elliott was far the -better hunter of the two. The brothers were devoted to each -other, and were each the complement of the other in character. -Theodore writes from Wilcox’s farm, Illinois, August 22, 1880: -“Darling Pussie: We have been having a lovely time so far,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114">114</a></span> -have shot fair quantities of game, are in good health, though -our fare and accommodations are of the roughest. The shooting -is great fun; you would laugh to see us start off in a wagon, -in our rough, dirty, hunting-suits, not looking very different -from our driver; a stub-tailed, melancholy looking pointer under -the front seat, and a yellow, fool idea of a setter under the back -one, which last is always getting walked on and howling dismally. -We enjoy the long drives very much: the roads are -smooth and lovely, and the country, a vast undulating prairie, -cut up by great fields of corn and wheat with few trees. The -birds are not very plentiful, but of great variety; we get prairie -chickens in the stubble fields, plover in the pastures, snipe in -the ‘slews,’ and ducks in the ponds. We hunt about an hour -or two in a place, then get into our wagon and drive on, so that, -though we cover a very large tract of country, we are not very -tired at the end of the day, only enough to make us sleep well. -The climate is simply superb, and though the scenery is not -very varied, yet there is something very attractive to me in these -great treeless, rolling plains, and Nellie [his pet name for Elliott] -and I are great chums, and in the evening, sit and compare our -adventures in ‘other lands’ until bedtime which is pretty early.”</p> - -<div id="if_i_114" class="figcenter" style="width: 441px;"> - <img src="images/i_114.jpg" width="441" height="600" alt="" /> - <div class="captionl"><span class="in1">Theodore Roosevelt</span><br /> -in his twenty-second year.<br /> -<div class="up2 right"><span class="l1">Elliott Roosevelt</span><br /> -in his twenty-first year.</div> -</div> - -<div class="caption"> -<p>Portrait taken in Chicago, July, 1880, on the way to the hunting -trip of that season.</p></div></div> - -<p>And again he writes a few weeks later from Chicago, in a -very bantering vein:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>September 12, 1880—Darling Pussie: We have come back -here after a week’s hunting in Iowa. Elliott revels in the change -to civilization—and epicurean pleasures. As soon as we got -here he took some ale to get the dust out of his throat; then a -milk punch because he was thirsty; a mint julep because it was -hot; a brandy mash “to keep the cold out of his stomach”; and -then sherry and bitters to give him an appetite. He took a very -simple dinner—soup, fish, salmi de grouse, sweetbread, mutton, -venison, corn, macaroni, various vegetables and some puddings -and pies, together with beer, later claret and in the evening, -shandigaff. I confined myself to roast beef and potatoes; when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115">115</a></span> -I took a second help he marvelled at my appetite—and at bedtime, -wondered why in thunder <em>he</em> felt “stuffy” and <em>I</em> didn’t. -The good living also reached his brain, and he tried to lure me -into a discussion about the intellectual development of the Hindoos, -coupled with some rather discursive and scarcely logical -digressions about the Infinity of the Infinite, the Sunday school -system, and the planet Mars, together with some irrelevant -remarks about Texan “Jack Rabbits” which are apparently -about as large as good-sized cows. Elliott says that these remarks -are incorrect and malevolent; but I say they pay him -off for his last letter about my eating manners! We have had -very good fun so far, in spite of a succession of untoward accidents -and delays. I broke both my guns, Elliott dented his, -and the shooting was not as good as we had expected; I got -bitten by a snake and chucked headforemost out of the wagon.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="smcap">Your Seedy Brother, Theo.</span> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>Nothing could better exemplify the intimate, comprehending -relationship of the two brothers than the above letter, in which, -with exaggerated fun, Theodore “pays Elliott off” for his criticisms -of the future President’s eating manners! All through -their lives—alas! Elliott’s life was to end prematurely at the -age of thirty-three—the same relationship endured between -them. Each was full of rare charm, joy of life, and unselfish -interest in his fellow man, and thus they had much in common -always.</p> - -<p>The hunting trip described so vividly in these two letters -was, in a sense, the climax of this period of my brother’s life. -College days were over, the happy summer following his graduation -was also on the wane, and within a brief six weeks from the -time these letters were written, Theodore Roosevelt, a married -man, was to go forth on the broader avenues of his life’s destiny.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116">116</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="V"></a>V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE YOUNG REFORMER</span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Lift up thy praise to Life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That set thee in the strenuous ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left thee not to drowse and rot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In some thick perfumed and luxurious plot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Strong, strong is Earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With vigor for thy feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make thy wayfaring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tireless and fleet,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“And good is Earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Earth not all thy good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thou with seeds of suns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And star-fire in thy blood.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> early part of the year 1881 was spent by Theodore -Roosevelt and his young wife with my mother at 6 West -57th Street, and was devoted largely to literary work -and efforts to acquaint himself with the political interests of -the district in which we lived.</p> - -<p>During the following summer, they travelled in Europe; -he climbed Swiss mountains and showed his usual capacity for -surmounting obstacles. June 16, 1881, he writes from Paris -in connection with artistic wanderings in the Louvre. “I have -not admired any of the French painters much excepting Greuze. -Rubens’ ‘Three Wives’ are reproduced in about fifty different -ways, which I think a mistake. No painter can make the same -face serve for Venus, the Virgin, and a Flemish lady.” And -again on August 24 from Brussels: “I know nothing at all, in -reality, of art, I regret to say, but I do know what pictures I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117">117</a></span> -like. I am not at all fond of Rubens; he is mentally a fleshly, -sensuous painter, and yet his most famous pictures are those -relating to the Divinity. Above all, he fails in his female figures. -Rubens’ women are handsome animals except his pictures of -rich Flemish house-wives, but they are either ludicrous or ugly -when meant to represent either the Virgin or a Saint. I think -they are not much better as heathen goddesses. I do not like -a chubby Minerva, a corpulent Venus, or a Diana who is so fat -that I know she could never overtake a cow, let alone a deer. -Rembrandt is by all odds my favorite. I am very much attracted -by his strongly contrasting coloring and I could sit for -hours examining his heads; they are so life-like and impressive. -Van Helst I like for the sake of the realism with which he presents -to one, the bold, rich, turbulent Dutchman of his time. -Vandyke’s heads are wonderful; they are very life-like and very -powerful—but if the originals were like them, I should hardly -have admired one of them. Perhaps, the pictures I really get -most enjoyment out of are the landscapes, the homely little -Dutch and Flemish interiors, the faithful representations of -how the people of those times lived and made merry and died, -which are given us by Jan Steen, Van Ostade, Teniers, and Ruysdael. -They bring out the life of that period in a way no written -history could do, and interest me far more than pictures of Saints -and Madonnas. I suppose this sounds heretical but it is true. -This time I have really <em>tried</em> to like the holy pictures but I cannot; -even the Italian masters seem to me to represent good men -and insipid, good women, but rarely anything saintly or divine. -The only pictures I have seen with these attributes are Gustav -Doree’s! He alone represents the Christ so that your pity for -him is lost in intense admiration and reverence. Your loving -brother.”</p> - -<p>The above letter is one unusual in its type, because it was -rare for Theodore Roosevelt to write as much about art. He -always loved certain types of pictures, but his busy, active career -had but small time for the more æsthetic interests! All these<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118">118</a></span> -criticisms by the young man not yet twenty-three have their -value because they show so distinctly the character of the young -man himself. One sees the interest which he takes in his humankind -as represented by certain types of Dutch pictures, and also -his love for spiritual beauty, when not belittled by insipidity. -Perhaps the last sentence of this letter is most characteristic -of all of his own vital spirit. He does not wish to pity the Christ; -he almost insists that pity must be lost in admiration and reverence. -Pity always seemed to Theodore Roosevelt an undesirable -quality; tenderest sympathy he gave and craved—but -never pity.</p> - -<p>After this brief artistic sojourn he plunged with great energy, -on his return, into the drudgery of political life in his own district. -Many were the criticisms of his friends and acquaintances -at the thought of his taking up city or state politics from -a serious standpoint. At that time, even more than now, -“politics” was considered as something far removed from the -life of any one brought up to other spheres than that of mud-slinging -and corruption. All “politics” was more or less regarded -as inextricably intertwined with the above. Theodore -Roosevelt, however, realized from the very beginning of his -life that “armchair” criticism was ineffectual, and, because ineffectual, -undesirable. If one were to regard oneself in the light -of a capable critic, the actual criticism immediately obligated -the person indulging in it to <em>do</em> something about the matter. -He often used to quote the old story of “Squeers” in “Nicholas -Nickleby,” that admirable old novel of Charles Dickens, in which -“Do the Boys’ Hall” was so amusingly described. Mr. Squeers, -the master of the above school, would call up a pupil and ask -him to spell window. He pronounced it “winder,” and the -pupil in turn would spell it “w-i-n-d-e-r.” The spelling would -not be corrected but the boy would receive the injunction to -“go and wash it,” and my brother always said that while he -did not approve of “Squeers’” spelling—nor indeed of other -methods practised by him—that the “go and wash it” was an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119">119</a></span> -admirable method to follow in political life. The very fact -that, although by no means a wealthy man, he had a sufficient -competence to make it unnecessary for him to earn his own living, -made him feel that he must devote his life largely to public -affairs. He realized that unless the men of his type and caliber -interested themselves in American government, the city, state, -and country in which they lived would not have the benefit -of educated minds and of incorruptible characters. He therefore -set himself to work to learn the methods used in ordinary -political life, and, by learning the methods, to fit himself to -fight intelligently whatever he found unworthy of free American -citizenship.</p> - -<p>He has described this part of his life in his own autobiography. -He has told of how he met Joseph Murray, a force -in the political district, who became his devoted adherent, and -how he decided himself to become one of the “governing class.” -This effort resulted in his nomination for the New York State -Assembly, and on January 1, 1882, Theodore Roosevelt became -outwardly, what inwardly he had always been, a devoted public -servant. That winter remains in my mind as one of intense interest -in all of his activities. We were all living at my mother’s -home in 57th Street, and he spent part of the week in Albany, -returning, as a rule, on Friday for the week-end. Many were -the long talks, many the humorous accounts given us of his adventures -as an assemblyman, and all the time we, his family, -realized that an influence unusual in that New York State Assembly -was beginning to be felt. Already, by the end of a month -or so, he was known as “the Young Reformer,” ardent and -earnest, who pleaded for right thinking, and definite practical -interpretation of right thinking. His name was on the lips of -many before he had been three months an assemblyman, and -already his native city was beginning to take a more than -amused interest in his activities.</p> - -<p>A certain highbrow club called “The 19th Century Club,” -whose president was the editor of the <cite>Evening Post</cite> (a paper<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120">120</a></span> -neither then nor later <em>always</em> in accord with the ideals and methods -of Theodore Roosevelt!), invited the young assemblyman -to make an address before its members. He accepted the invitation, -feeling, as he always did, that it was well to give the type -of message that <em>he</em> wished to give to the type of citizens of which -that club was composed. Following my invariable custom -whenever it was possible for me to do so, I accompanied him to -the meeting. The method of procedure in “The 19th Century -Club” was as follows: The speaker of the evening was allowed -to choose his own subject, announced, of course, several -weeks in advance, and he was given a half-hour in which to develop -his idea. A second speaker was invited to rebut the first -speaker. The speaker of the evening was then allowed ten -minutes to rebut the rebutter. It is, I think, of special interest -to remember that the young assemblyman, twenty-three -years of age, chose for his subject the same theme on which the -man of sixty, who was about to die, wrote his last message to -his countrymen.</p> - -<p>Theodore Roosevelt announced that he would speak to “The -19th Century Club” on “Americanism.” A brilliant editor of -an able newspaper was asked to make the speech in answer to -the address of “the Young Reformer.” As I say, I went with -my brother to the meeting and sat directly under him in a front -seat. It was the first time I had ever heard him speak in public -and I confess to having been extremely nervous. He was never -an orator, although later his speeches were delivered with great -charm of manner and diction, but at this early stage of his career -he had not the graces of an older and more finished speaker. I -can see him now as he came forward on the platform and began -with eager ardor his plea for Americanism. Every fibre of my -being responded to him and to his theme, but I seemed to be -alone in my response, for the somewhat chilly audience, full of -that same armchair criticism of which I have spoken, gave but -little response to the desire of the heart of Theodore Roosevelt, -and when he had finished his half-hour’s presentation of his -plea, there was very little applause, and he sat down looking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121">121</a></span> -somewhat nervous and disappointed. Then the brilliant man, -twice the age of Theodore Roosevelt, who had been chosen to -reply to him, rose, and with deft oratorical manipulation rang -the changes on every “ism” he could think of, using as his fundamental -argument the fact that all “isms” were fads. He -spoke of the superstition of spiritualism, the extravagance of -fanaticism, the hypocrisy of hypnotism, the plausibility of -socialism—and the highbrow members of “The 19th Century -Club” were with the brilliant orator from start to finish, and as -he closed his subtile argument, which left Americanism high -and dry on the shores of faddism, the audience felt that “the -Young Reformer” had had his lesson, and gave genuine applause -to his opponent.</p> - -<p>Half-way through that opponent’s address, I confess, on my -own part, to having experienced a great feeling of discouragement; -not because I agreed with what he said, but because of the -effect produced upon the listeners; but suddenly I saw my -brother smile the same smile which used to cross his face in later -years when some heckler would try to embarrass him from the -back of a great hall, and he took a pencil and wrote something -on his cuff. The smile was transitory but it gave me fresh hope, -and I knew quite well that the audience would hear something -worth while, if not to their liking, in the last ten minutes of the -evening, when, as I said before, the speaker of the evening was -allowed to rebut the rebutter. The clever editor sat down amidst -interested applause, and “the Young Reformer” stepped once -more forward to the edge of the platform. He leaned far over -from the platform, so earnest, so eager was he, and this is what -he said: “I believe that I am allowed ten minutes in which to -refute the arguments of my opponent. I do not need ten minutes—I -do not need five minutes—I hardly need one minute—I -shall ask you one question, and as you answer that question, -you will decide who has won this argument—myself or the gentleman -on the other side of this platform. My question is as follows: -If it is true that all isms are fads, I would ask you, Fellow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122">122</a></span> -Citizens, what about <em>Patriotism</em>?” The audience rose to its -feet; even “The 19th Century Club” could not but acknowledge -that patriotism was a valuable attribute for American citizens -to possess. That was the first time that Theodore Roosevelt, -in public, asked of his fellow countrymen, “What about Patriotism?” -but all his life long, from that time on, it was the question -forever on his lips, the question which his own life most -adequately answered.</p> - -<p>In April of that same year, Theodore, an assemblyman not -yet twenty-four, had already made himself so conspicuous a -figure that mention of him and his attitudes was constantly in -the New York press. In an envelope, put away long ago, I find -an excerpt from the New York <cite>Times</cite>, April 5, 1882. It is yellow -with age and brittle, but there was something ineffaceable and -prophetic in the faded words; I quote:</p> - -<p>“He called from the table his resolution directing an investigation -by the Standing Judiciary Committee of the acts of -Judge Westbrook and Ex-Attorney General Ward in connection -with the gigantic stock jobbing scheme of the Manhattan -Railroad Co. (Elevated). Ex-Governor Alvord <em>tried</em> to prevent -resolution, but it was carried 48–22. As Mr. Roosevelt rose to -speak, the House, for almost the only time during the Session, -grew silent and listened to every word that he uttered.”</p> - -<p>In the midst of a body of men somewhat inclined to a certain -kind of careless irreverence, it is of marked interest that -“as Mr. Roosevelt rose to speak, the House, for almost the only -time during the Session, grew silent and listened to every word -that he uttered.” To how few young men of twenty-three would -“the House” accord such respect! As I say, the attitude was -prophetic, for the following forty years, no matter how fiercely -he was criticised, no matter what fury of invective was launched -against him, no matter how jealously and vindictively he was -occasionally opposed, there was never a place where Theodore -Roosevelt rose to speak that he was not listened to with great -attention.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123">123</a></span> -In the <cite>Sun</cite> of the same date the account of the incident runs -as follows: “Mr. Roosevelt’s speech was delivered with deliberation -and measured emphasis, and his charges were made -with a boldness that was almost startling.” Those first two -years of his career as an assemblyman showed, indeed, again, -that the youth was father to the man. The characteristics which -marked his whole public life never showed more dominantly -than as a young assemblyman in Albany. Uncompromising -courage was combined with common sense, and the power of -practical though never unworthy compromise was as evident -then as later in his life. Those years have been fully dwelt upon -in his own autobiography.</p> - -<p>The great tragedy of his young wife’s death at the birth of -her first child was an even greater tragedy because the death -of our lovely mother occurred twenty-four hours before her son’s -wife passed away. Our mother’s home at 57th Street had been -the background of our young married life, as it had been the -foreground of our youth, and the winter of 1884 had been -spent by my husband and myself at 6 West 57th Street, and the -consequence was that as Theodore also made his headquarters -there, we had been much together, and that very fact made it -even harder to break up the home which had been so long the -centre of our family life.</p> - -<p>The next two years were almost the saddest of our happy -lives. My brother had, fortunately, already interested himself -in a ranching enterprise in North Dakota, and although he returned -to the assembly in February, 1884, and with his usual -courage finished his year of duty there, he turned gladly to the -new life of the West, and became, through his absolute comprehension -of the pioneer type of the cowboy and the ranchman, -not only one of them from a physical standpoint, but also -one of them from the standpoint of understanding their mental -outlook.</p> - -<p>In June, 1884, however, before starting for Dakota, he was -to meet one of the serious political decisions of his life. That<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124">124</a></span> -spring, when it came time to elect delegates to the Republican -National Convention, he was, with the hearty approval of the -great mass of his party, chosen as the chief of the four delegates-at-large -from New York State. Mr. Joseph Bucklin Bishop -gives in his history of “Theodore Roosevelt and His Time” a -short account of that convention, of which I quote part:</p> - -<p>“He went to the National Convention an avowed advocate -of the nomination of Senator John F. Edmunds of Vermont as -Republican Candidate for the Presidency in preference to James -G. Blaine. The New York <cite>Times</cite> of June 4th, 1884, refers to -him as the leader of the Younger Republicans, and says, ‘when -he spoke, it was not the voice of a youth but the voice of a -man, and a positive practical man.’”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bishop describes Mr. Roosevelt’s efforts and the efforts -of Senator Henry Cabot Lodge to secure the nomination of their -choice, and then continues: “By the nomination of Mr. Blaine -which followed later, Roosevelt was confronted with what, in -many respects, was one of the most serious crises of his career. -He had to decide which of the two courses he should choose; -he must separate himself completely from his party and become -an absolute Independent, or stay within his party and support -its regularly appointed candidate. The nomination of Mr. Blaine -had been fairly won. He was unquestionably the choice of the -Convention. There was no claim that the will of the majority -had been subverted either through the action of a committee -on contested seats or in any other way. The problem before -him was thus a quite different one from that presented to him -twenty-eight years later in the National Republican Convention -of 1912. In opposing the nomination of Mr. Blaine, he and -his Republican Associates had been acting with a considerable -body of Professional Independents. These men were without -allegiance to either of the great political parties. Though he -had been, during his brief public career, an avowed Republican, -seeking to accomplish all his reforms through Republican aid -and inside party lines, his Independent associates, as soon as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125">125</a></span> -the Blaine nomination was made, assumed that he would leave -his party and join them in seeking to accomplish Mr. Blaine’s -defeat by supporting the Democratic candidate. In fact, they -not merely asked but demanded that he abandon the course -which he had followed since his entry into political life and upon -which he had built his public career. They were sincere in their -belief that he should do so. It seemed incredible to them that -he could do anything else. He gave them full credit for sincerity -but declared that the question was one that he must insist -upon deciding for himself.</p> - -<p>“He admitted frankly that he had worked hard for the nomination -of Edmunds but he declined to say at once what course -he should pursue in regard to the nomination of Mr. Blaine. -Various devices were used to force him to declare his intentions, -some by Republican politicians and others by leading Independents, -but all in vain. He insisted upon deciding the question -for himself and in his own way and time. He went direct -from the Convention in Chicago to his ranch in Dakota, and -several weeks later put forth a formal statement in which he -defined his decision as follows: ‘I intend to vote the Republican -Presidential ticket. While at Chicago, I told Mr. Lodge that -such was my intention but before announcing it, I wished to -have time to think the matter over. A man cannot act both -without and within the party; he can do either, but he cannot -possibly do both. Each course has its advantages and each -has its disadvantages, and one cannot take the advantages or -the disadvantages separately. I went in with my eyes open -to do what I could within the party. I did my best and -got beaten, and I propose to stand by the result. It is impossible -to combine the functions of a guerilla chief with those of -a colonel in the regular army; one has a greater independence -of action, the other is able to make what action he does take -vastly more effective. In certain contingencies, the one can -do most good; in certain contingencies the other; but there is -no use in accepting a commission and then trying to play the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126">126</a></span> -game out on a lone hand. I am by inheritance and by education -a Republican. Whatever good I have been able to accomplish -in public life has been accomplished through the Republican -party. I have acted with it in the past and wish to act -with it in the future. I went as a regular delegate to the Chicago -Convention and intend to abide by the outcome of that Convention. -I am going back in a day or two to my Western ranch -as I do not intend to take any part in a campaign this Fall.’” -[This determination not to take part in the campaign he recalled -later, for reasons which were eminently characteristic.]</p> - -<p>“‘When I started out to my ranch two months ago,’ he said -in October, ‘I had no intention of taking any part whatever -in the Presidential canvass, and the decision I have now come -to is the result of revolving the matter in my mind during that -time. It is altogether contrary to my character to keep a neutral -position in so important and exciting a struggle, and besides -any natural struggle to keep a position of some kind, I made -up my mind that it was clearly my duty to support the ticket.’”</p> - -<p>He faced the storm of disapproval and abuse calmly, and -in reply to an open letter of regret and remonstrance from an -Independent, he wrote: “I thank you for your good opinion of -my past service. My power, if I ever had any, may or may not -be as utterly gone as you think, but most certainly, it would -deserve to go if I yield any more to the pressure of the Independents -at present, when I consider <em>them</em> to be wrong, than I -yielded in the past to the pressure of the machine when I thought -<em>it</em> wrong.” He declined a renomination for the assembly, which -he could have had without opposition, and two separate offers -of nominations for Congress, on the ground that his private interests, -which he had neglected during his service in the legislature, -required his attention.</p> - -<p>His courageous attitude in connection with the disapproval -of the Independents was indeed characteristic. He was invariably -willing to run the risk of the disapproval of any faction -when he had positively made up his own mind as to the right<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127">127</a></span> -or wrong of any question, and he set his mind and heart upon -those “private interests” of which he speaks.</p> - -<p>In a later chapter I give several of his letters of this period -in connection with a trip which he arranged for the members of -his family to the Elkhorn Ranch and the Yellowstone Park in -1890. All his craving for the out-of-door life, all his sympathy -with pioneer enterprise, such as his heroes Daniel Boone and -Davy Crockett had indulged in, were satisfied by those long -days on the open prairies, and by the building of his ranch-houses -with the assistance of his old friends, Bill Sewall and Will Dow, -the two stanch Maine lumbermen, uncle and nephew, with -whom he had made many an excursion in the Maine woods in -earlier days. Theodore Roosevelt, however, was not to be allowed -by his country to remain too long the rider and dreamer -under cottonwood-trees, or even a potent influence for good in -Western affairs, as he became. Already rumors were abroad -that he would be the choice of the Republican party for the -nominee for mayor of New York City, and he was recalled from -the wilds of North Dakota to a stirring triangular campaign in -which Henry George, representing “Single Tax” beliefs, Abraham -S. Hewitt, Democratic nominee, and the young ranchman -from Dakota battled lustily against each other, with the result -that Mr. Hewitt was elected mayor of New York.</p> - -<p>In the autumn of 1886 he sailed for Europe to marry his -old friend Edith Carow, and for a brief period led a life of leisure -and travel. Only very rarely in his busy existence had he time -for just that life again, and the consequence is that some of his -letters at that period have an unusual value. He humorously -described some of his travels in Italy in a letter dated December, -1886, as follows: “My lack of knowledge of the language -has given me some soul-harrowing moments,—a mixture of -broken English with German and French proving but an indifferent -substitute for Italian, so I sometimes get what I do not -want, as when yesterday, an effort to state that after dinner -we wished only black coffee, expressed with deprecatory waves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128">128</a></span> -of the hand and the idiomatic phrase, ‘c’est genuch’ produced -in addition, cheese, pastry, and fruit, all brought by the waiter -in a wild hope that some one of those might satisfy what he evidently -supposed was my untranslatable demand.”</p> - -<p>A little later, from Sorrento, he writes in characteristic fashion, -showing that even in so romantic and enthralling a spot as -Rome he was still “on duty bent” from the standpoint of writing -articles for the <cite>Century</cite>. He says: “I finished six articles for the -<cite>Century</cite> on ranch life while in Rome and sent them off. I do -not know whether the <cite>Century</cite> will want them or not. I read -them all to Edith and her corrections and help were most valuable -to me. Now I am wondering why my ‘Life of Benton’ -has not come out. Here, [at Sorrento] I generally take a moderate -walk with Edith every morning, and then a brisk rush by -myself. I had no idea that it was in me to enjoy the ‘dolce -far niente’ even as long as I have. Luckily, Edith would dislike -an extended stay in Europe as much as I would.”</p> - -<p>In this letter, after speaking of ranch losses which necessitated -selling his beloved hunter, Sagamore, he signs himself, -“Your extravagant and irrelevant but affectionate brother, the -White Knight,” the latter being a reference to the character in -“Alice in Wonderland,” from which enchanting book we invariably -quoted in ordinary conversation or letters.</p> - -<p>From Venice, in February, he writes: “Venice is perfectly -lovely. It is more strange than any other Italian town, and -the architecture has a certain florid barbarism about it,—Byzantine,—dashed -with something stronger—that appeals to some -streak in my nature.” They returned to London later, and -were shown many attentions, for even at that early period in -his life, England recognized the statesman in Theodore Roosevelt. -He speaks of Mr. Bryce the historian as a “charming -man”—their friendship was to last all through my brother’s -life, and he mentions many other well-known young Englishmen, -who have now grown old in their country’s service. In a -letter dated March 6 he says: “I have been having great fun<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129">129</a></span> -in London, and have seen just the very nicest people, social, -political, and literary. We have just come back from a lunch -at the Jeunes’, which was most enjoyable. Edith sat beside -Chamberlain, who impresses me very much with his keen, shrewd -intellect and quiet force. I sat between Trevelyan, who was -just charming, and a Lady Leamington.”</p> - -<p>Unless I am mistaken, that was the first time my brother -met Sir George Trevelyan, with whom he carried on a faithful -and interesting correspondence for many years. “Mrs. Jeune -has asked us to dine to meet Lord Charles Beresford and Lord -Hartington, and I have been put down for the Athenæum Club, -and also taken into the Reform Club. Last night, I dined at a -Bohemian Club, the famous Savage Club, with Healy and one -or two Parnellites, (having previously lunched with several of -the Conservatives, Lord Stanhope and Seton-Carr, and others). -The contrast was most amusing, but I like Healy immensely. -Later on I met a brother of Stanhope’s who is a radical, and -listened to a most savage discussion with a young fellow named -Foster, a nephew of the late Secretary of Ireland, who has also -been very polite to me. I have enjoyed going to the House of -Commons under the guidance of Bryce, the historian, and a -dear old Conservative member named Hoare, very greatly. It -is amusing to see the Conservatives, fresh-looking, well-built, -thoroughly well-dressed gentlemen, honest and plucky but absolutely -unable to grapple with the eighty odd, erratic Parnellite -Irishmen. The last named, by the way, I know well of old,—I -have met them in the New York Legislature!”</p> - -<p>These comments by the young man of twenty-eight are along -the line of comments made much later when almost all of his reactions -to the men named or suggested had come true. The -travellers were more than glad to get back to their native land, -and by the early summer were settled at Sagamore Hill, to begin -there the beautiful family life which grew in richness up to the -moment of my brother’s death.</p> - -<p>June 8, 1887, he writes from Sagamore, describing amusingly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130">130</a></span> -his efforts to become a polo-player. He has often expressed his -own feeling about sports—he loved them, enjoyed his hunting -and other athletic exercises to the full, but they were always a -relaxation, never a pursuit with him. “Frank Underhill and -I ride industriously around the field and brandish our mallets -so as to foster the delusion among simple folk that we likewise -are playing polo. Two other would-be players also come now -and then; but as they have not yet even learned to sit on horseback -and strike the ball simultaneously, and, after trial, having -found it impracticable to do so alternately, our games are generally -duels. Yesterday, I beat Frank two out of three—and -in addition, stood on my head on the sward in the enthusiasm -of one mêlée where we got rather mixed. Day before yesterday, -I rowed Edith to Lloyd’s Neck, portaged across—at low tide, -the hardest work I ever did almost,—into Huntington Harbor, -then rowed out into the Sound. We took our lunch and some -volumes of Thackeray. It was an ideal day—but wasn’t I stiff -and blistered next morning! Do come soon and stay as long -as possible. Yours as ever, Theodore Roosevelt.”</p> - -<p>During that same summer I took my little niece Alice, with -my children, to our old home on the Mohawk Hills for a change -of air, and he writes me in his usual loving way of his warm appreciation -of the pleasure I was giving the child, and sends his -love to the little “yellow-haired darling,” and incidentally, in -the letters, says his book “Morris [”Gouverneur Morris“] goes -drearily on by fits and starts, and in the intervals, I chop vigorously -and have lovely rowing excursions”; and so the happy -summer wore to its close and was crowned in September by the -birth of his first boy, the third Theodore Roosevelt. He describes -with amusement little Alice’s remark—“a truthful remark,” -he says—“<em>My little brother</em> is a howling polly parrot.” -All through the letter one realizes his joy and pride in his firstborn -son, and shortly after that, in December of the same year, -he writes me to congratulate me on the birth of my second son, -Monroe, and says: “How glad I am that Ted, Junior, has a future -playmate. Just won’t they quarrel, though!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131">131</a></span> -Owing to the fact that in my brother’s own biography he -describes fully his work as civil service commissioner, police -commissioner, and assistant secretary of the navy, I do not -purport to give a detailed account of his labors, especially as -during the period that he served in the first position, I have -comparatively few letters from him, and it was not until he returned -to New York in the second capacity that I saw as much -of him as usual. One winter, however, we had a most characteristic -intercourse. I do not remember exactly the date of -that winter. I had married young, my children had been born -in rapid succession, and owing to the delicacy of my health just -before I was grown up, I was conscious of the fact that I was -not as grounded in certain studies, especially American history, -as I should have been, and I found myself with a very slim -knowledge of the most important facts of my nation’s birth and -early growth. The consequence was that when my brother -returned for a brief period to New York, I decided to consult -him as to how best to study American History, thinking perhaps -that I might go to Columbia College or something of that -kind.</p> - -<p>I began my effort for information by saying: “Theodore, -I really know very little about American history.” I can see -the flash in his eyes as he turned to me. “What do you mean?” -he said; “it’s disgraceful for any woman not to know the history -of her own country.” “I know it is,” I replied, “and that is -just why I am consulting you about it. I know you feel I ought -to know all about American history, but I also know that you -preach large families, and you must remember that I have done -my best in that direction in these last five years, and now I am -ready to study American history!” “Do you mean really to -study?” he said, looking at me sternly. “Just as really to study -as whooping-cough, measles, chicken-pox, and other family -pleasures will allow,” I said. “Well,” he replied, still sternly, -and not laughing at my sally, “if you really mean to study, -I will teach you myself. I will come at nine o’clock every week on -Tuesday and Friday for one hour, if you will be ready promptly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132">132</a></span> -and give me all your attention.” Needless to say, I was enchanted -at the thought, and, true to his word, the busy man -came at nine o’clock every Tuesday and Friday for several -months, and in my library at 422 Madison Avenue I was ready -with note-book and blackboard, and he lectured to me for that -hour twice a week as if I were a matriculating class at Harvard -College. I have now many of the notes he made for me at that -time, and I shall always remember the painstaking way in which -he drew the battle-fields, and explained how “one commander -came up in this position at just the right moment and saved -the day,” or how the lack of preparedness ruined many a courageous -adventure. These quiet hours come back to me with a -rush of recollection as I write, and I am proud to think that -he felt it was worth while to give me such instruction. Once -I said to him: “How can you do this, Theodore; how can you -take the time to study for these lectures?” “Oh!” he said, -“I do not have to study; I could not, of course, give quite as -much time as that. You see, I just happen to know my American -history.” He certainly did “happen to know” his American -history, as was proved in many a controversy later in -his life. His American history and, indeed, the history of almost -every other country of the world were all at his finger-tips.</p> - -<p>During his civil service commissionership, a period of a -number of years, the letters were few and far between, but I -have one dated July 28, 1889, in which he writes: “Struggle -as I will, my life seems to grow more and more sedentary, and -as for my polo, it is one of the things that <em>has</em> been; witness -the enclosed check which is for Cranford, and I am trying to -sell Diamond too;—how I hate to give it up! We have had -lovely days this summer, however, at Sagamore. I took all the -children down on the pond once, and made them walk out on a -half-sunken log, where they perched like so many sand-snipes. I -am leaving for the West soon to have a whack at the bears in -the Rockies; I am so out of training that I look forward with -acute physical terror to going up the first mountain. [He seems<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133">133</a></span> -for the moment to have forgotten that his life was growing very -“sedentary.”] I have mortally hated being so much away -from home this summer, but I am very glad I took the place -[civil service commissionership] and I have really enjoyed my -work. I feel it incumbent on me to try to amount to something, -either in politics or literature because I have deliberately -given up the idea of going into a money-making business. Of -course, however, my political life is but an interlude—it is quite -impossible to continue long to do much between two sets of such -kittle-kattle as the spoilsmen and the mugwumps.”</p> - -<p>The seed of the birth of the Progressive party of 1912 was -sown by that feeling of Theodore Roosevelt of the difficulty to -do much “between two sets such as the spoilsmen and the mugwumps.” -The honest effort to play honest politics for honest -purposes and practical ideals was the stimulating idea translated -into action in that great attempt for better government -called the Progressive party; but this letter of the young Civil -Service Commissioner was written in 1889, and it was not until -twenty-three years later that the seed fructified into a movement -which, had it succeeded, would, I verily believe, have -changed the fate of the world.</p> - -<p>But to return to the Civil Service Commission. He gave -faithful effort and all his intelligence to the improvement of -that important service, and often had the sensation, which he -was doomed to have in so many of his positions, that he was -more or less beating his head against the wall. He sent me at -that time a copy of a letter to the Civil Service Commissioners -from an applicant who had been summoned to an examination -and had not appeared. To show the ignorance of some of the -applicants, I cannot resist quoting from the letter.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -Alabama Mobile October 6, 1890. -</p> - -<p class="in0"> -<i>To the Comishers of Sivel Serves</i>, -</p> - -<p>My dear brothers: I am very sorry that I could not Meet -you on the day you said but gentlemen, i am glad of the cause<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134">134</a></span> -that kept me away. Let me tell you Mr. Comisher, i hav bin -mard five years antel the Other Da me and my wife hav bin -the onley mbrs en ow Famly. Well Sir on the Da before youre -examnenashun My Wife Had a Kupple ov tuins, gest think of -it, Mr. Comischer—and of course i couddnt go off and Leave -her and them. i just staid home and we had a sellabration—and -i invited all my friends to dinner. i wish you had been -thare. i Hope i can be thare next time Mr. Comischer.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -Very truly yours. -</p></blockquote> - -<p>I remember my brother saying humorously that, after all, -that particular gentleman might just as well have stayed away -with his “tuins” and “sellabration,” as he really doubted -whether he could have passed the “examnenashun” had he -appeared!</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135">135</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="VI"></a>VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE ELKHORN RANCH AND NEAR-ROUGHING -IT IN YELLOWSTONE PARK</span></h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p>From the cloistered life of American college boys, sheltered from -the ruder currents of the world by the ramparts of wealth and gentle -nurture, he passed, still very young, to the wild and free existence of -the plains and the hills. In the silence of those vast solitudes men -grow to full stature, when the original stuff is good. He came back -to the East, bringing with him, as Tennyson sang, “The wrestling -thews that throw the world.” —From a speech by John Hay.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O lover of the things God made—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hill, valley, mountain, plain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lightning from the darkened cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The storm-burst with its rain.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Roosevelt, “Hymn of Molokai.” -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">My</span> brother has written so much about his own ranch, -and has given so vivid a description in his autobiography -of the life led there, of the wonderful stretches -of the Bad Lands, of the swaying cottonwood-trees, and the big -fireplace in the Elkhorn Ranch sitting-room, around which he -and his fellow ranchers gathered, exhausted by a long day’s -cattle-herding or deer-hunting, that it hardly seems possible -that I can add much to the picture already painted by his own -facile hand: ranch life, however, viewed from the standpoint -of the outsider or from that of the insider has a different quality, -and thus no reminiscences of mine would be in any way complete -were I not to describe my first delightful visit paid to Medora, -Dakota, and the surrounding country, in 1890. Our party -consisted of my brother and sister-in-law, my sister Mrs. Cowles, -then Anna Roosevelt, our friend Robert Munro Ferguson, my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136">136</a></span> -husband and myself, and young George Cabot Lodge. The -latter was the sixteen-year-old son of our valued friend Senator -Henry Cabot Lodge, and was truly the “gifted son of a gifted -father,” for later he was not only to earn fame as a poet, well -known to his countrymen, but in his brief life—for alas! he died -in the summer of 1909—his talents were recognized in other -lands as well.</p> - -<p>I had been prepared by many tales for the charm and freedom -and informal ease of life in the Bad Lands, and had often -dreamed of going there; but, unlike most dreams, this one came -true in an even more enchanting fashion than I had dared hope. -Many had been the letters that my brother had written to me -from Elkhorn Ranch several years previous to our journey. In -June, 1886, he wrote: “I have never once had breakfast as late -as four o’clock. Have been in the saddle all day, and have -worked like a beaver, and am as rugged and happy as possible. -While I do not see any very great future ahead, yet, if things -go on as they are now going and have gone for the past three -years, I think that each year I will net enough money to pay -a good interest on the capital, and yet be adding slowly to my -herd all the time. I think I have more than my capital on the -ground, and this year I ought to be able to sell between two and -three hundred head of steer and dry stock. I wish I could see -all of you, but I certainly do enjoy the life. The other day while -dining at the de Mores I had some cherries, the only fruit I have -had since I left New York. I have lived pretty roughly.”</p> - -<p>I quote the above simply to show, what is not always understood, -that my brother’s ranching venture was, from his standpoint, -a perfectly just business enterprise, and, had not the extraordinarily -severe winters intervened, his capital would not -have been impaired. Writing that same summer, shortly after -hearing of the birth of my baby girl, he says in his loving way:</p> - -<p>“My own darling Pussie, my sweetest little sister: How can -I tell you the joy I felt when I received Douglas’ first telegram; -but I had not the heart to write you until I received the second<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137">137</a></span> -the good old boy sent me, and knew you were all right. -Just to think of there being a second wee, new Pussie in this -big world! How I shall love to pet and prize the little thing! -It will be very, very dear to Uncle Teddy’s heart, which is -quite large enough, however, not to lose an atom of affection -for Teddy Douglas, the blessed little scamp. I have thought -of you all the time for the last few weeks, and you can hardly -imagine how overjoyed and relieved I felt, my own darling sister. -I hope the little new Pussie will grow up like her dear mother, -and that she will have many many loving ones as fond of her -as her irrelevant old cowboy uncle is of Pussie, Senior. Will -you be very much offended if I ask whether she now looks like -a little sparsely-haired, pink polyp? My own offspring, when -in tender youth, closely resembled a trilobite of pulpy consistency -and shadowy outline. You dearest Pussie,—you know -I am just teasing you, and how proud and fond I am of the little -thing even when I have never seen it. I wish I was where -I could shake old Douglas by the hand and kiss you again -and again.</p> - -<p>“Today I went down to Dickerman to make the Fourth of -July speech to a great crowd of cowboys and rangers, and after, -stayed to see the horse races between the cowboys and Indians.”</p> - -<p>In another letter about the same time: “If I was not afraid -of being put down as cold-blooded, I should say that I honestly -miss greatly and all the time, and think lovingly of all you dear -ones, yet I really enjoy this life. I have managed to combine -an outdoor life possessing much variety and excitement, and -now and then a little adventure, with a literary life also. Three -out of four days I spend the morning and evening in the Ranch -house writing, and working at various pieces of writing I have -now on hand. They may come to nothing, however; but on -the other hand they may succeed; at any rate, I am doing some -honest work whatever the result is and I am really pretty philosophical -about success or failure now. It often amuses me -when I indirectly hear that I am supposed to be harboring secret<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138">138</a></span> -and bitter regret for my political career, when, as a matter of -fact, I have hardly ever, when alone, given two thoughts to it -since it closed, and have been quite as much wrapped up in hunting, -ranching, and book-making as I ever was in Politics. Give -my best love to wee Teddy and dear old Douglas; do you know, -I have an excessively warm feeling for your respected spouse. -I have always admired Truth, Loyalty, and Courage; and -though I am really having a lovely life, just the life I care for, -please be sure that I am always thinking of my own, darling -sister, whom I love so much and so tenderly. Ever your affectionate -brother, Thee.”</p> - -<p>On August 7 of the same year he wrote again after having -paid a brief visit to the East, and returned to Dakota: “Blessed -little Pussie; Mother of an increasing and vocal Israel, I did -enjoy my two visits to my dear sister, and that dear old piece -of peripatetic bric-à-brac, her Caledonian spouse. Everything -here is much as usual. The boys were, as always, genuinely -glad to see me. I am greatly attached to the Ranch and the -life out here, and am really fond of the men. It is in many ways -ideal; we are so very rarely able to, actually and in real life, -dwell in our ideal ‘hero land.’ The loneliness and freedom, and -the half-adventurous nature of existence out here, appeals to -me very powerfully.... Merrifield and I are now busily planning -our hunt in the mountains.”</p> - -<p>Such letters as the above filled the members of his family -with a strong desire to participate to some degree, at least, in -the life which he loved so dearly; but the births of various small -members of the family rendered such participation impossible -until the late summer of 1890.</p> - -<p>After a brief visit to St. Paul, Minn., we took train for Medora. -My brother had heralded the fact that I (then a young -woman of twenty-eight) was a mighty rider (I had followed the -Essex County hounds in New Jersey)! And the cowboys were -quite sure, I think, that I would leap from the locomotive to -the back of a bucking bronco. Our train drew up, or I should<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139">139</a></span> -say, approximately drew up, to the little station at Medora at -four o’clock in the morning, in one of the most frightful storms -that I ever remember. Rain fell in torrents, and we had to -get out on an embankment composed of such slippery mud that -before we actually plodded to the station, our feet and legs were -encased in glutinous slime; but the calls of the cowboys undauntedly -rang out in the darkness, and the neighing of horses -and prancing of hoofs made us realize that civilization as well -as convention was a thing of the past. Will Merrifield, the -superintendent of Elkhorn Ranch, and Sylvane Ferris, his able -lieutenant, fully expected me to mount the extremely dangerous-looking -little animal which they held by a loose rope, and they -were inordinately disappointed when I pleaded the fatigue of -two nights on the train, and begged that I might drive with the -other less-adventurous ladies to the ranch-house, forty miles -away. Before starting on this long trip we were entertained -by Joe Ferris, the brother of Sylvane, who having once also been -one of Theodore’s cowboys, had now decided upon a more sober -type of life as storekeeper in the little town of Medora. Joe -and his wife were most hospitable, and above his shop in their -own rooms we were given a nice warm breakfast and an equally -warm welcome. After breakfast, we came down to the shop, -where our luggage had already been gathered, and there we -began to sort what we would take to the Ranch and what we -would leave. This required a certain amount of packing and -unpacking, and I was on my knees “madly thrusting,” as “Alice -in Wonderland” puts it, “a right-hand foot into a left-hand -shoe” when Joe came up to me and said: “Mrs. Douglas (they -all decided to call me Mrs. Douglas, as more informal than Mrs. -Robinson), it ain’t worth while for you to tire yourself like that -when the best packer in all Dakota is standin’ in the doorway.” -I looked up and sure enough a huge man, who might have just -walked out of one of Bret Harte’s novels, <em>was</em> “standin’ in the -doorway.” “There he is,” continued Joe; “that’s Hell-Roarin’ -Bill, the sheriff of the county; you heard tell of how he caught<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140">140</a></span> -that lunatic; well, Bill’s the best ladies’ packer that ever was, -and you had better leave all your bags to him to arrange.” Fearing -that “Bill” might be offended if I did not use him in the -capacity of a French maid, and having frequently been told -of the rapid results of hurt feelings on the part of “Bill,” -I suavely called him to my side, and telling him of the wonderful -reputation which I had heard he enjoyed, I immediately -put my wardrobe in his care, and to my infinite surprise the huge -backwoodsman measured up to his reputation. Very soon the -cavalcade was ready, the rain had ceased to fall in such torrents, -the half-misty quality in the air lent a softer beauty to the arid -landscape, and a sense of adventure was the finishing touch to -our expectations as we started for Elkhorn Ranch. My disappointed -friends, Merrifield and Sylvane, said that “they did -not believe that Mrs. Douglas would like drivin’ with a ‘shotgun -team’ much better than ridin’ a buckin’ bronco, but, of -course, if she <em>thought</em> she wanted to go that way, she could.” -An hour later “Mrs. Douglas” somewhat regretted her choice -of progression; true enough, it <em>was</em> a shotgun team attached to -that springless wagon in which we sat! The horses had never -been hitched up together before, and their methods of motion -were entirely at odds. The cowboy driver, however, managed -eventually to get them started, and from that moment our progress, -though irrelevant, was rapid beyond words.</p> - -<p>We forded the “Little Missouri” River twenty-three times -on the way to the ranch-house, and as the banks of the river -were extremely steep, it was always a question as to whether -we could go fast enough down one bank to get sufficient impetus -to enable us to go through the river and up the very steep -bank on the other side; so that either coming or going we were -in imminent danger of a complete somersault. However, we did -accomplish that long, exhausting, springless drive, and gradually -the buttes rose higher and higher around us, the strange formation -of the Bad Lands, curious in color, became more and more -marked, the cottonwood-trees more plentiful as the river broadened<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141">141</a></span> -out, and suddenly we saw buried amidst the trees on the -farther side of one of our fordings the substantially built, cosey-looking -house called by my brother the Elkhorn Ranch.</p> - -<p>In a letter written to my aunt, Mrs. Gracie, from the ranch-house -I say:</p> - -<p>“We are having the most delightful time at the Ranch. -The little house is most cosey and comfortable, and Mrs. Merrifield -had everything so neat and sweet for us, and as she has -a girl to help her, we really do not have to rough it at all. -We all make our beds and do up our rooms religiously, but even -that they would willingly do for us if we would let them. We -have had three cloudless days, the first of which was occupied -in driving the forty miles down here, and a beautiful picturesque -drive it is, winding in and out through these strange, -bold Buttes, crossing the ‘Little Missouri’ twenty-three times! -We ladies drove, but the men all rode, and very picturesque -they looked filing across the river. We arrived at the Ranch -house at twelve o’clock and ate a splendid dinner of Mrs. Merrifield’s -preparing, immediately after which we climbed up a Butte -and walked to Prairie Dog town and saw the little prairie dogs. -We then mounted horses and took a lovely ride, so you may -imagine that we slept well.</p> - -<p>“The next day we were all on horseback soon after breakfast, -Ferris and Merrifield with us, and off we rode; this time -with the intention of seeing Merrifield lasso a steer. When we -came to a great bunch of cattle, the practised eyes of the two -men at once discovered an unbranded heifer, which they immediately -decided to lasso and brand. It was very exciting. Merrifield -threw the rope, cleverly catching its legs, and then threw -the heifer, which was almost the size of a cow, and then Ferris -tied another rope around its neck. The ends of the ropes were -slipped over the pommels of two ponies who, in the most sensible -way, held the heifer while the two men built a little fire -and heated the cinch ring with which they branded the creature. -It was all intensely picturesque. In the afternoon, we again<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142">142</a></span> -rode out to be with the men while they drove the deer on the -bottom, and Merrifield shot one; so you see, we have had very -typical experiences, especially at the round-up yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Happy days, indeed, they were, full of varied excitements. -Merrifield’s little boy, Frank, only eleven years old, was the -chief factor in finding the herd of ponies in the morning, for it -was the custom to let them loose after twilight. Many and many -a time I would hear him unslip the halter of the one small pony -(“Little Moke” by name) which was still tied to the ranch-house -steps and on which he would leap in the early dawn to -go to round up the ponies for the day’s work. I would jump -up and look out of the ranch window, and see the independent -little fellow fording the river, starting on his quest, and an hour -or so later the splashing of many feet in the water heralded the -approach of “Little Moke,” his young rider, and the whole bunch -of four-legged friends.</p> - -<p>The relationship between my brother and his men was one -of honest comradeship but of absolute respect, each for the other, -and on the part of the cowboys there was, as well, toward their -“Boss,” a certain reverential attitude in spite of the “man to -man” equality. How I loved that first night that we sat around -the fire, when the men, in their effort to give my brother all the -news of the vicinity during his absence, told the type of tale which -has had its equivalent only in Owen Wister’s “The Virginian.” -“There is a sky-pilot a good many miles from here, Mr. Roosevelt,” -said Sylvane, “who’s bringin’ a suit against you.” Sylvane -announced this unpleasant fact with careless gaiety, stretching -his long legs toward the fire. No one was ever so typically -the ideal cowboy of one’s wildest fancy as was Sylvane Ferris. -Tall and slender, with strong fair hair and blue eyes of an almost -unnatural clearness, and a splendid broad brow and aquiline -nose, Sylvane looked the part. His leather chaps, his broad -sombrero hat, his red handkerchief knotted carelessly around -his strong, young, sunburned throat, all made him such a picture -that one’s eye invariably followed him as he rode a vicious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143">143</a></span> -pony, “wrastled” a calf, roped a steer, or branded a heifer; but -now sitting lazily by the fire, such activities seemed a thing of -the past, and Sylvane was ready for an hour’s gossip.</p> - -<p>“A sky-pilot? Why should a sky-pilot bring suit against -me?” said my brother laughingly. [In telling this story he -sometimes referred to this man as a professor.]</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Sylvane, “it was this way, Mr. Roosevelt. You -see, we was all outside the ranch door when up drives the sky-pilot -in a buggy. He was one of them wanderin’ ones that -thought he could preach as he wandered, and just about as he -drove up in front of our ranch his horse went dead lame on him -and his old buggy just fell to pieces. He was in a bad fix, and -he said he knew you never would let him be held up like that, -because he had heard you was a good man too, and wouldn’t -we lend him a horse, or send him with the team to the next place -he was going to, some forty miles away. We felt we had to -be hospitable-like, with you so far away and the sky-pilot in -such a fix, so we said ‘Yes,’ we would send him to where he -wanted to go, and there he is now, lyin’ in a hut with one leg -broken and one arm nearly wrenched off his body, and he’s -bringin’ suit against you, which ain’t really fair, we think.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, Sylvane; what have I got to do with -his broken leg and arm?” said my brother, beginning to feel -a trifle nervous.</p> - -<p>“Well, you see, it is this way,” said Sylvane; “he says we -sent him to where he is with a runaway team and he was thrown -out and broken up in pieces-like; but we says how could that -team we sent him with <em>be</em> a runaway team—how <em>could</em> a team -be called a runaway team when one of the horses ain’t never -been hitched up before, and the other ain’t run away not more’n -two or three times; but I guess sky-pilots are always unreasonable!”</p> - -<p>This conclusion seemed to satisfy Sylvane entirely; the unfortunate -condition of the much-battered sky-pilot aroused -no sympathy in his adamantine heart, nor did he feel that the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144">144</a></span> -sky-pilot had the slightest cause for his suit, which later was -settled in a satisfactory manner, but the conversation was typical -of that evening’s ranch news by the big wood-fire.</p> - -<p>Our day at the round-up was one of the most fascinating -days of my life, and I was proud to see that my city-bred brother -was as agile and as active in the duties of rounding up the great -steers of the plains as were the men brought up from their babyhood -to such activities. We lunched at midday with the roundup -wagon; rough life, indeed, but wonderfully invigorating, -and as we returned in the evening, galloping over the grassy -plateaus of the high buttes, I realized fully that the bridle-path -would never again have for me the charm it once had had. -Nothing in the way of riding has ever been so enchanting, and -the curious formation of the Bad Lands, picturesque, indeed, -almost grotesque in line, in conjunction with the wonderful -climate of that period of the year and the mingling of tints in -the sunset sky, resulted in a quality of color and atmosphere -the like of which I only remember in Egypt, and made as lasting -an impression upon my memory as did the land of the Nile.</p> - -<p>During our stay, my original failure to leap, on my arrival, -“from the locomotive to the back of a bucking bronco” had -more or less been effaced from the memory of the cowboys by -subsequent adventures, and the last day that we spent under -the cottonwood-trees, by the banks of the Little Missouri, was -made significant by the “surprise” gotten up by Merrifield and -Sylvane for the special edification of my brother and husband. -The surprise took the form of the “wrastling” of a calf by no -less a person than myself! Merrifield had taught me to rope -an animal, Sylvane had shown me with praiseworthy regularity -the method of throwing a calf, and the great occasion was -heralded amongst the other members of the party by an invitation -to sit on the fence of the corral at three o’clock, the last -afternoon of our visit to Elkhorn, and thus witness the struggle -between a young woman of the East and a bovine denizen of -the Western prairies. The corral, a plot of very muddy ground<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145">145</a></span> -(having been watered by a severe rain the night before), was -walled in by a fence, and generally used when we wished to keep -the ponies from straying. On this occasion, however, it was -emptied of all <em>but</em> the calf, which was to be the object of my efforts -and prowess. I was then introduced by Merrifield, very -much as the circus rider used to be introduced in the early Barnum -and Bailey days; then followed a most gruelling pantomime; -the calf, which was of an unusually unpleasant size, galloped -around the corral and I, knee-deep in mud, galloped after it, -and finally succeeded in achieving the first necessity, which was -to rope it around the neck. After that, the method of procedure -was as follows: The “wrastler”—on this occasion my unfortunate -self—was supposed to get close enough to the animal -in question to throw himself or herself across the back of the -galloping calf, with the purpose of catching the left leg of the -animal, the leg, in fact, farthest away from one’s right arm. If -this deed could be accomplished and the leg forcibly bent under -the calf, both calf and rider would go down in an inextricable -heap, and the “wrastling” of the calf would be complete.</p> - -<p>I can feel now the mud in my boots as I floundered with -agonized effort after that energetic animal. I can still sense -the strain in every nerve of my body as I finally flung myself -across its back, and still, also, as if it were only yesterday, do -I remember the jellied sensation within me, as for some torturing -minutes I lay across the heifer’s spine, before, by a final Herculean -effort, I caught that left leg with my right arm. The -cries of “stay with him!” from the fence, the loud hand-clapping -of the enthusiastic cowboys, the shrieks of laughter of my brother -and my husband, all still ring in my ears, and when the deed -was finally accomplished, when the calf, with one terrible lurch, -actually “wrastled,” so to speak, fell over on its head in the -mud, all sensation left me and I only remember being lifted up, -bruised and encased in an armor of oozing dirt, and being carried -triumphantly on the shoulders of the cowboys into the ranch-house, -having redeemed, in their opinion, at least, the reputation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146">146</a></span> -which my brother had given me before I visited the Bad -Lands.</p> - -<p>Years later, when the young owner of Elkhorn Ranch had -reached the higher estate of President of the United States, I, -as the sister of the President, was receiving with my sister-in-law -at the breakfast in the White House, at his Inaugural in 1905, -and was attired in my best black velvet gown and “presidential -sister” white plumes; I was surrounded by senators and ambassadors, -when suddenly, coming toward me, I recognized the -lithe figure of my brother’s quondam cowboy, Will Merrifield. -He, too, had climbed the rungs of the ladder of fame, and now, -as marshal of Montana, he had been intrusted by the State of -Montana with the greetings of that state for the newly inaugurated -President. Coming toward me with a gay smile of recognition, -he shook me warmly by the hand and said: “Well, now, -Mrs. Douglas, it’s a sight for sore eyes to see you again; why, -almost the last time I laid eyes on you, you were standing on -your head in that muddy corral with your legs waving in the -air.” Senators and ambassadors seemed somewhat surprised, -but Will Merrifield and the President’s sister shook hands gaily -together, and reminisced over one of the latter’s most thrilling -life victories. But to return to our farewell to Elkhorn Ranch -in 1890.</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>The three weeks’ visit to the ranch-house had passed on -fleet wings, and it was a very sad little party that turned its -face toward Medora again, in preparation for the specially -planned trip to Yellowstone Park. Theodore Roosevelt, as one -may well imagine, was making a very real concession to family -affection by arranging this trip for us and accompanying us -upon it. What he loved was roughing it; near-roughing it was -not his “métier,” nor, frankly, was it his “métier” to arrange -a <em>comfortable</em> trip of any kind. He loved wild places and wild -companions, hard tramps and thrilling adventure, and to be a -part of the type of trip which women who were not accustomed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147">147</a></span> -to actual hunting could take, was really an act of unselfishness -on his part. We paid huge sums for no comforts, and although -supposed to go—as we were riding—where the ordinary travellers -in stage-coach could not go in Yellowstone Park, yet there -<em>were</em> times when we seemed to be constantly camping in the -vicinity of tomato cans!</p> - -<p>I write again to my aunt two weeks after we start our Yellowstone -experiences:</p> - -<p>“We have had a most delightful two weeks’ camping and -have enjoyed every moment. The weather has been cloudless, -and though the nights were cold, we were only really uncomfortable -one night. We were all in the best of health and the best of -spirits, and ate without a murmur the strange meals of ham, -tomatoes, greasy cakes and coffee prepared by our irresistible -Chinese cook. Breakfast and dinner were always the same, and -lunch was generally bread and cheese carried in our pockets -and eaten by the wayside. We have really had great comfort, -however, and have enjoyed the pretense of roughing it and the -delicious, free, open-air life hugely,—and such scenery! Nothing -in my estimation can equal in unique beauty the Yellowstone -canyon, the wonderful shapes of the rocks, some like -peaks and turrets, others broken in strange fantastic jags, and -then the marvellous colors of them all. Pale greens and yellows, -vivid reds and orange, salmon pinks and every shade of brown -are strewn with a lavish hand over the whole Canyon,—and -the beautiful Falls are so foamy and white, and leap with such -exultation from their rocky ledge 360 feet down.</p> - -<p>“We had one really exciting ride. We had undertaken too -long an expedition, namely, the ascent of Mt. Washburn, and -then to Towers’ Falls in one day, during which, to add to the -complications, Edith had been thrown and quite badly bruised. -We found ourselves at Towers’ Falls at six o’clock in the evening -instead of at lunch time, and realized we were still sixteen -miles from Camp, and a narrow trail only to lead us back, a -trail of which our guide was not perfectly sure. We galloped<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148">148</a></span> -as long as there was light, but the sun soon set over the wonderful -mountains, and although there was a little crescent moon, -still, it soon grew very dark and we had to keep close behind -each other, single file, and go very carefully as the trail lay along -the mountainside. Often we had to traverse dark woods and -trust entirely to the horses, who behaved beautifully and stepped -carefully over the fallen logs. Twice, Dodge, our guide, lost the -trail, and it gave one a very eerie feeling, but he found it again -and on we went. Once at about 11 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span>, Theodore suggested -stopping and making a great fire, and waiting until daylight -to go on, for he was afraid that we would be tired out, but we -all preferred to continue, and about 11:30, to our great joy, we -heard the roar of the Falls and suddenly came out on the deep -Canyon, looking very wonderful and mysterious in the dim starlight. -We reached our Camp after twelve o’clock, having been -fifteen hours away from it, thirteen and a half of which we had -been in the saddle. It was really an experience.”</p> - -<p>It was a hazardous ride and I did not terrify my aunt by -some of the incidents such as the severe discomfort suffered by -Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt when she was thrown and narrowly -escaped a broken back, and when a few hours later my own horse -sank in a quicksand and barely recovered himself in time to -struggle to terra firma again, not to mention the dangers of the -utter darkness when the small, dim crescent moon faded from -the horizon. My brother was the real leader of the cavalcade, -for the guide, Ira Dodge, proved singularly incompetent. Theodore -kept up our flagging spirits, exhausted as we were by the -long rough day in the saddle, and although furious with Dodge -because of his ignorance of the trail through which he was supposed -to guide us, he still gave us the sense of confidence, which -is one’s only hope on such an adventure. Looking back over -that camping trip in the Yellowstone, the prominent figure of -the whole holiday was, of course, my brother. He was a boy -in his tricks and teasing, crawling under the tent flaps at night, -pretending to be the unexpected bear which we always dreaded.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149">149</a></span> -He was a real inspiration in his knowledge of the fauna and birds -of the vicinity and his willingness to give us the benefit of that -knowledge.</p> - -<p>I find in my diary of that excursion a catalogue of the birds -and other animals which he himself had pointed out to me, making -me marvel again at the rapid observation which he had made -part of his physical equipment. I note: “During the first four -days we have been in the Park, we have seen chipmunk, red -squirrel, little black bear, elk watering with the horses, muskrat -in the streams, golden eagle, Peregrine falcon and other varieties, -red-tailed hawk and pigeon hawk, Clark’s crow, Canada -jay, raven, bittern, Canada goose, mallard and teal ducks, chicadee, -nuthatch, dwarf-thrush, robin, water oozel, sunbird, longspur, -grass finch, yellow-crowned warbler, Rocky Mountain -white-throated sparrow, song-sparrow, and wren.”</p> - -<p>Each one of the above I saw with the eyes of Theodore Roosevelt, -and can still hear the tones of his voice as he described to -me their habits of life and the differences between them and -others of their kind. To him this trip must, of necessity, have -been somewhat dull, based as it was upon the companionship -of three women who were not hunters; but never once during -those weeks did he seem anything but happy, and as far as we -were concerned, to see the beauties of nature through those ardent -eyes, to hear the bird-notes through those ears, attuned to -each song, and to listen constantly to his stories of wood and -plain, his interpretation of the lives of those mighty pioneer -men of the West—all of this comes back to me, as a rare experience -which I have gladly stored away in what Emerson calls -“the amber of memory.” How we laughed over the strange -rules and regulations of the park! Fierce bears were trapped, -but could not be killed without the kind permission of one of -the secretaries in Washington, the correspondence on the subject -affording my brother infinite amusement. <em>His</em> methods -under like circumstances would have been so very different!</p> - -<p>The experiences at Elkhorn Ranch and again in the Yellowstone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150">150</a></span> -Park were of special benefit to me from the standpoint -of the comprehension which they gave me of the absolute sympathy -which my brother felt both with the nature and the human -nature of the great West. No period of the life of Theodore -Roosevelt seems to me quite as important, in the influence which -it was to bear upon his future usefulness to his country, as was -that period in which, as man to man, he shared the vigorous -work and pastimes of the men of that part of our country. Had -he not actually lived the life not only of the hunter and cattleman, -but had he not taken actual part as sheriff in the methods -of government of that part of our country, he would never have -been able to interpret the spirit of the West as he did. He would -never have been recognized <em>as</em> such an interpreter, and when -the time came that America could no longer look from an uninterested -distance at the Spanish iniquities in Cuba, the fact that -Theodore Roosevelt had become so prominent a figure in the -West proved the essential factor in the flocking to his standard -of that mass of virile manhood which, under his leadership, and -that of the then army doctor, Leonard Wood, became the picturesque, -well-known “Rough Rider” Volunteer Cavalry of -the Spanish-American War.</p> - -<p>At Elkhorn Ranch, also, the long silences and stretches of -solitude had much to do with the mental growth of the young -man. There he read and wrote and thought deeply. His old -guide Bill Sewall was asked not long since about his opinion of -my brother as a religious man. His answer was as follows: “I -think he read the Bible a great deal. I never saw him in formal -prayer, but as prayer is the desire of the heart, I think he prayed -without ceasing, for the desire of his heart was always to do -right.” Thus, sharing the hardships and the joys of their primitive -life with his comrades of the West, the young rancher became -an integral part of that country, which never failed to -rouse in him the spirit of high adventure and romance.</p> - -<p>Theodore Roosevelt, himself, in a letter to John Hay, written -long after our visit to his ranch and our gay excursion to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151">151</a></span> -Yellowstone, describes the men of that part of the world. He -was taking an extended trip, as President, in 1903, on the first -part of which journey Mr. Hay had accompanied him, and at -Oyster Bay, on his return, he writes to his secretary of state -in order to give him further details of the trip:</p> - -<p>“From Washington, I turned southward, and when I struck -northern Montana, again came to my old stamping grounds -and among my old friends. I met all kinds of queer characters -with whom I had hunted and worked and slept and sometimes -fought. From Helena, I went southward to Butte, reaching -that city in the afternoon of May 27th. By this time, Seth Bullock -had joined us, together with an old hunting friend, John -Willis, a Donatello of the Rocky Mountains,—wholly lacking, -however, in that morbid self-consciousness which made Hawthorne’s -‘faun’ go out of his head because he had killed a man. -Willis and I had been in Butte some seventeen years before, -at the end of a hunting trip in which we got dead broke, so that -when we struck Butte, we slept in an outhouse and breakfasted -heartily in a two-bit Chinese restaurant. Since then I had gone -through Butte in the campaign of 1900, the major part of the -inhabitants receiving me with frank hostility, and enthusiastic -cheers for Bryan.</p> - -<p>“However, Butte is mercurial, and its feelings had changed. -The wicked, wealthy, hospitable, full-blooded, little city, welcomed -me with wild enthusiasm of a disorderly kind. The -mayor, Pat Mullins, was a huge, good-humored creature, wearing, -for the first time in his life, a top hat and a frock coat, the -better to do honor to the President.</p> - -<p>“National party lines counted very little in Butte where -the fight was Heinze and anti-Heinze, Ex-Senator Carter and -Senator Clark being in the opposition. Neither side was willing -to let the other have anything to do with the celebration, and -they drove me wild with their appeals, until I settled that the -afternoon parade and speech was to be managed by the Heinze -group of people, and the evening speech by the anti-Heinze<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152">152</a></span> -people; and that the dinner should contain fifty of each faction -and should be presided over in his official capacity by the mayor. -The ordinary procession, in barouches, was rather more exhilarating -than usual, and reduced the faithful secret service -men very nearly to the condition of Bedlamites. The crowd -was filled with whooping enthusiasm and every kind of whiskey, -and in their desire to be sociable, broke the lines and jammed -right up to the carriage.... Seth Bullock, riding close beside -the rear wheel of my carriage, for there were hosts of so-called -‘rednecks’ or ‘dynamiters’ in the crowd, was such a splendid -looking fellow with his size and supple strength, his strangely -marked aquiline face, with its big moustache, and the broad brim -of his soft dark hat drawn down over his dark eyes. However, -no one made a motion to attack me....</p> - -<p>“My address was felt to be honor enough for one hotel, so -the dinner was given in the other. When the dinner was announced, -the Mayor led me in!—to speak more accurately, -tucked me under one arm and lifted me partially off the ground -so that I felt as if I looked like one of those limp dolls with dangling -legs, carried around by small children, like Mary Jane in -the ‘Gollywogs,’ for instance. As soon as we got in the banquet -hall and sat at the end of the table, the Mayor hammered lustily -with the handle of his knife and announced, ‘Waiter, bring on -the feed.’ Then, in a spirit of pure kindliness, ‘Waiter, pull -up the curtains and let the people see the President eat’;—but -to this, I objected. The dinner was soon in full swing, and it -was interesting in many respects. Besides my own party, including -Seth Bullock and Willis, there were fifty men from each -of the Butte factions.</p> - -<p>“In Butte, every prominent man is a millionaire, a gambler, -or a labor leader, and generally he has been all three. Of the -hundred men who were my hosts, I suppose at least half had -killed their man in private war or had striven to compass the -assassination of an enemy. They had fought one another with -reckless ferocity. They had been allies and enemies in every<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153">153</a></span> -kind of business scheme, and companions in brutal revelry. As -they drank great goblets of wine, the sweat glistened on their -hard, strong, crafty faces. They looked as if they had come out -of the pictures in Aubrey Beardsley’s Yellow Book. The millionaires -had been laboring men once, the labor leaders intended -to be millionaires in their turn, or else to pull down all who were. -They had made money in mines, had spent it on the races, in -other mines or in gambling and every form of vicious luxury, -but they were strong men for all that. They had worked, and -striven, and pushed, and trampled, and had always been ready, -and were ready now, to fight to the death in many different kinds -of conflicts. They had built up their part of the West, they -were men with whom one had to reckon if thrown in contact -with them.... But though most of them hated each other, -they were accustomed to take their pleasure when they could -get it, and they took it fast and hard with the meats and wines.”</p> - -<p>The above description by the pen of my brother is the most -vivid that could be given of a certain type of man of the West. -The types were many.... The Sylvane Ferrises and the Will -Merrifields were as bold and resourceful as these inhabitants of -the city of Butte and its vicinity, but for the former, life was -an adventure in which the spirit of beauty and kindness had its -share in happy contrast to the aims and objects of the men described -by my brother in this extraordinary pen-picture. The -picture is so forcibly painted that it brings before one’s mind, -almost as though it were an actual stage-setting, this type of -American, who would appear to be a belated brother of the men -of the barbaric period of the Middle Ages in the Old World, in -their case, however, rendered even more formidable by a New -World enterprise and acumen, strangely unlike what has ever -been produced before.</p> - -<p>It was because of his knowledge of just such men, and of -the fact that they knew, although his aims were so different and -his ideals so alien to theirs, that the courage of his mental and -physical equipment could meet them on their own ground, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154">154</a></span> -Theodore Roosevelt was respected and admired, although sometimes -hated, by this type of humanity so opposed to the goals, -actual and spiritual, for which he worked so faithfully during -his whole valiant existence. They knew him for what he was, -and feared him for the qualities which he possessed in common -with them, and even more for the traits that they did not understand, -and which, to them, made him inevitably and forever -“The Mysterious Stranger.”</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155">155</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="VII"></a>VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">TWO RECREANT NEW YORK POLICEMEN</span></h2> - -<p class="center"> -Who serves her truly, sometimes saves the state.<br /> -<span class="in16">—Arthur Hugh Clough.</span> -</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>There is sprung up a light for the righteous; and joyful gladness -for such as are true-hearted.—97th Psalm.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> years between 1890 and 1896 were busy years, with -devoted service as Civil Service Commissioner, winters at -Washington and happy summers at Oyster Bay, when -Theodore Roosevelt gave himself up to family joy and the activities -of the growing children. In 1893 he writes most lovingly -of my children and his—his never-failing sympathy in -all the minor illnesses of my little family, expressed in the most -affectionate terms, and the common sorrow which we both suffered -in the loss of our devoted aunt, Mrs. James Gracie, fills -many pages during those years. We met frequently during -the summer-time, and when we met he shared with me his many -Washington experiences, but the letters are largely to show me -his loving interest in the many details of my family life.</p> - -<p>In August, however, he goes a little more fully into some -matters of public interest, and writes: “For the last fortnight, -I have virtually been living with Cabot, for I take all my meals -at his house, though I sleep at my own. [Mrs. Roosevelt and -the children were at Oyster Bay.] After breakfast, an hour -spent by Cabot and myself in gloomy discussion over the folly -of the Mug-wumps and the wickedness of the Democrats, I go -to the office and work until four or five o’clock, most of my work -taking the light but not always agreeable shape of a succession -of interviews of varying asperity with Congressmen; then I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156">156</a></span> -go to gruff old Olney’s and play tennis with him and any other -stray statesman, diplomat or military personage whom he has -captured for an hour or two. Sometimes, Cabot and I dine -alone; more often, we have in one or two of our cronies such -as Tom Reed or Senator Davis of Minnesota.... I think -the tariff deadlock will break in a day or two, when I shall be -left alone here with so much work on hand, however, that I fear -I shall not get away until the end of the month, when I shall -go back to Sagamore and Edith and the blessed bunnies.”</p> - -<p>The intimacy with Senator Lodge, the charm of his library, -where tradition and intellect always held sway, were amongst -the most delightful associations that Washington gave to my -brother during the many years spent there, both before the days -of the White House and later under its roof.</p> - -<p>Late in August of that year my brother Elliott died. My -brother Theodore came to me at once and we did together the -things always so hard to do connected with the death of those -we love, and he writes me afterward: “The sadness has been -tempered by something very sweet when I think of the way I -was with you, my own darling sister.” The quality of sharing, -which, as I always say, was one of his most marked attributes, -never showed more unselfishly than in times of sorrow. Almost -immediately after the above letter, he encloses to me a clipping -from the newspaper of Abingdon, Va., about my brother Elliott, -who had lived there for some time in connection with the property -of my husband in the Virginia mountains. No one, not even my -brother Theodore himself, was ever more loved by those with -whom he came in contact than was the “Ellie” of the early days -in 20th Street, and later wherever he went he found rare and -devoted friendship. <cite>The Virginian</cite> (the name of the Abingdon -paper) says:</p> - -<p>“The New York papers announce the death of Mr. Elliott -Roosevelt. This gentleman has been a member of this community -for the past two years, and although his stay was so -brief, it was long enough for him to make his impress as a whole-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157">157</a></span>souled, -genial gentleman, courteous and kind at all times, with -an ever ready cheer for the enterprising or help to the weak. -His name was a byword among the needy, and his charities were -always as abundant as they were unostentatious. He was public -spirited and generous, this much we can truthfully say. His -influence and his aid will be missed, and more frequently than -is generally known among those to whom it was a boon.”</p> - -<p>After speaking of the enclosure, my brother continues: “My -thoughts keep hovering around you, my darling sister, for I -know how you loved Elliott; what a gallant, generous, manly -boy he was. So many memories come back to me.”</p> - -<p>In 1895 he had been appointed police commissioner, and -was already in the thick of the hard fight to reform the Police -Department. He writes in August of that year: “Governor -Hill and I have had two savage tilts. I have not the slightest -idea of the ultimate results of our move on the excise question, -but we have made a good fight against heavy odds.” Perhaps, -of all the pieces of work done by my brother, none stands out -more clearly than the splendid achievement of remaking the -Police Department into a fine working body, for which the whole -city of New York had the utmost respect, and on which it leaned -for safety and protection. I have but few letters from him during -that period, for, much to our delight, he was once more in -our midst, and many and many a time would I go down to the -old Vienna bakery on the corner of 10th Street and Broadway, -and he would come from Mulberry Street, where his office was, -and together we would sit over the type of lunch he loved so -well: either bread and milk or a squab and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">café au lait</i>. I can -still see Senator Lodge’s expression when he joined us on one -of these simple occasions, and asked in a somewhat saturnine -manner whether any one <em>could get</em> a respectable lunch at the -place we loved so well! What talks we had there over all the -extraordinary situations that arose in the Police Department. -There he described to me the delicious humor of the parade -inaugurated by the German brewer societies as a protest against<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158">158</a></span> -his enforcement of the law. They were parading to show their -disapproval of him, but at the last moment, as a wonderful piece -of sarcasm, they decided to invite him to review the parade, -hardly thinking that he would accept the invitation. Needless -to say, he <em>did</em> accept it, and leaning over from the platform -where he had been invited to sit, he saw the mass of marching -men carrying banners with “Down with Teddy,” and various -other more unpleasant expletives. One company, as it passed -the reviewing-stand, called out: “Wo ist Teddy?” “Hier bin -ich,” called out the police commissioner, leaning over the railing -and flashing his white teeth good-humoredly at the protesting -crowd, who, unable to resist the sunshine of his personality, -suddenly turned and, putting aside the disapproving banners, -cheered him to the echo.</p> - -<p>It was during that same time, the story ran, that two recreant -policemen who left their beats at an inopportune moment were -called to the realization of their misdemeanor by coming face -to face, in a glass window-case, with a set of false teeth which, -they explained, grinned at them with a ferocity so reminiscent -of the strong molars of the police commissioner, that they almost -fainted at the sight, and hastily returned to their forsaken duties. -Many and many a settlement-worker told me in those days that -they could go anywhere in the most dangerous parts of the city, -during the administration of Theodore Roosevelt, and the police -were always on hand, always ready to protect those who needed -their care.</p> - -<p>At that time also I was amused one day when he told me -the story about his little Irish stenographer, a young girl whose -knowledge of orthography was less than her sympathetic interest -in the affairs of the police commissioner! He took a -warm interest in the nice young Irish girl, hard worker as she -was, an important factor in the support of a large family of -younger children, and could not bear to dismiss her from his -service, in spite of her alarming mistakes in spelling. He said -he always had to look over her manuscript and correct it in spite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159">159</a></span> -of his many other cares, and he laughingly remarked that it -was well he did, as having dictated the following sentence in -connection with a certain policeman, “I was obliged to restrain -the virtuous ardor of Sergeant Murphy, who, in his efforts to -bring about a state of quiet on the streets, would frequently -commit some assault himself,” the young Irish stenographer, -listening to the rapid dictation, spelled “some assault” “somersault,” -and, as my brother remarked, one could not but laugh -at the thought of Sergeant Murphy performing somersaults -like a circus clown on Mulberry Street, and, fortunately, the -word caught the ever-watchful eye of the police commissioner -before the report was printed, and, even in spite of the inconvenience, -he set himself to work to improve the young stenographer’s -mistaken orthographic efforts.</p> - -<p>In spite of his busy days and busy nights, he had time, as -usual, to write to me when he thought that I needed his care -or interest. I was far from well at the time, but was obstinately -determined to go up to visit my boys at St. Paul’s School, and -he writes me: “Won’t you let Douglas and me go up to -St. Paul’s, and you stay at home? If you will do this, I shall -positively go for anniversary on June 2nd. I believe you should -not go on these trips whether for pleasure or duty, and should -take more care of yourself. Your loving and anxious brother.”</p> - -<p>He himself has given in his autobiography many incidents -connected with his police commissionership.</p> - -<p>The force were devoted to him, as were his Rough Riders -later, largely on account of the justice with which he treated -them, and the friendly attitude which he always maintained -toward them. Otto Raphael, a young Jew, and a young Irishman -called Burke were two of the men whom he promoted because -of unusual bravery, and their loyalty and admiration followed -him unswervingly. On the sad day when he was carried -to the little cemetery at Oyster Bay, Burke—now Captain Burke—had -been put in charge of the police arrangements for the -funeral. As he stood by the grave, the captain turned to me,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160">160</a></span> -the tears streaming down his face but with a smile in his blue -Irish eyes, and said: “Do you remember the fun of him, Mrs. -Robinson? It was not only that he was a great man, but oh, -there was such fun in being led by him. I remember one day -when he was governor, and I was in charge of him, and I was -riding by the side of his carriage down Madison Avenue, and he -suddenly stuck his head out of the window and, ‘Burke’ said he, -‘we are just going to pass my sister’s house. I want to get out -and say “how do you do” to my sister.’ ‘I don’t think you have -time, governor’ I said, ‘I am afraid you are late now.’ ‘Oh, -now, Burke, I want you to meet my sister. Get somebody to -hold your horse,’ he said; ‘it won’t take a minute.’ And with -that he leaped out of his carriage and was ringing the front door-bell -in a flash. I followed him and I heard him call out to you, -Mrs. Robinson, that he had his friend Lieut. Burke with him, -and could he bring him up-stairs to shake hands, and sure -enough he did, and when I went down-stairs again I heard him -telling you some story, and the two of you were laughing fit to -kill. When I got back that night to my wife, I said: ‘Susan, if -you are ever downhearted, all you have to do is to go up to 422 -Madison Avenue when the governor stops to see his sister, and -hear them laugh.’”</p> - -<p>The commissionership was a big job well done, and the city -of New York could not but feel a sense of great regret when -President McKinley promoted the active young commissioner -to be assistant secretary of the navy in 1897. It was his pride -and one of his greatest satisfactions in later years to feel that he -was instrumental in preparing our navy for the war with Spain. -For many years he had been convinced that the Spanish rule in -Cuba should not continue; and the condition in Cuba, he felt, -was too intertwined with the affairs of the United States to be -differentiated from them. In the days of President Cleveland, -my brother had felt that action should be taken, and in the same -way he was convinced that Mr. McKinley was only putting off -the evil day by not facing the situation earlier in his incumbency.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161">161</a></span> -As was the case in almost every crisis which arose, either national -or international, during my brother’s life, he seemed to -have a prescience of the future, and, therefore, he almost invariably—sometimes -before other public men were awake to the contingency—sensed -the need of taking steps to avert or meet difficulties -which he felt sure would soon have to be faced.</p> - -<p>The young assistant secretary of the navy was not very popular -with the administration on account of the views which he -felt it his duty honestly to express. On March 6, 1898, he writes -to my husband: “Neither I nor anyone else, not even the President -can do more than guess. We are certainly drifting towards -and not away from war, but the President will not make war, -and will keep out of it if he possibly can. Nevertheless, with -so much loose powder around, a coal may hop into it at any -moment. In a week or two, I believe, we shall get that report. -If it says the explosion was due to outside work, it will be very -hard to hold the country. [He refers to the blowing up of the -battleship <i>Maine</i> in Havana harbor.] But the President undoubtedly -will try peaceful means even then, at least, at first.”</p> - -<p>At the time of the writing of that letter, Mrs. Theodore -Roosevelt had been very ill and was still very delicate, and my -brother had not only the many worries of the department in -which he was working, as he himself puts it, “like a fiend, for -we have serious matters ahead,” but he also had the great anxiety -of her condition on his heart. On the 28th of March: “I have -been working up to the handle here, and have about all I can -do on hand now. I have very strong convictions on this crisis, -convictions which, I fear, do not commend themselves to my -official superiors.” And again on April 2, 1898, he writes in -full to my husband, who was always one of his most welcome -advisers:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -Navy Department, April 2, 1898. -</p> - -<p class="in0"> -<span class="smcap">Dear Old Man</span>: -</p> - -<p>In one way I was very much pleased at receiving your letter, -for it shows the thoughtfulness and affection you always feel<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162">162</a></span> -for me. In another way your letter makes it very hard for me. -All my friends have written me as you have, and yet I am convinced -that you are all wrong. Do not misunderstand me. It -may well be that I can’t get down with an Expeditionary force -even if, as I think unlikely, an Expeditionary force is started -before next fall. Indeed I think I shall probably have to stay -here, and I should certainly stay here until we got a successor -broken in. But if I get a fair chance to go, or could make a -fair chance, I conscientiously feel that I ought to go. My usefulness -in my present position is mainly a usefulness in time -of peace, because in time of peace the naval officers cannot speak -freely to the Secretary and I can and do, both to the Secretary -and President, even at the cost of jeopardizing my place. But -in time of war the naval officers will take their proper positions -as military advisers, and my usefulness would be at an end. I -should simply be one of a number of unimportant bureau chiefs. -If I went I shouldn’t expect to win any military glory, or at the -utmost to do more than feel I had respectably performed my -duty; but I think I would be quite as useful in the Army as -here, and it does not seem to me that it would be honorable for -a man who has consistently advocated a warlike policy not to -be willing himself to bear the brunt of carrying out that policy. -I have a horror of the people who bark but don’t bite. If I am -ever to accomplish anything worth doing in politics, or ever -have accomplished it, it is because I act up to what I preach, -and it does not seem to me that I would have the right in a big -crisis not to act up to what I preach. At least I want you to -believe that I am doing this conscientiously and not from merely -selfish reasons, or from an impulse of levity.</p> - -<p>I shall answer Corinne in a day or two. April 13th I was -to have been in Boston, but if we have trouble, I, of course, can’t -get away. I hope Corinne will stay over the following Sunday, -so I may have a good chance to see her.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -Faithfully yours. -</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163">163</a></span> -The above is a most characteristic letter. Those who were -nearest to him, like myself and my husband, and even Senator -Lodge, were doubtful of his wisdom in leaving his important -position (I mean important for the affairs of the country, not -for himself) as assistant secretary of the navy to take active -part in the war, should war come, but he himself knew quite -well that being made of the fibre that he was, he must act up to -what he had preached. Nothing is more absolutely Theodore -Roosevelt, was ever more thoroughly Theodore Roosevelt, than -that sentence. “I have a horror of the people who bark but -don’t bite. If I am ever to accomplish anything worth doing -in politics, or ever have accomplished it, it is because I act up -to what I preach, and it does not seem to me that I would have -the right in a big crisis not to act up to what I preach. At least -I want you to believe that I am doing this conscientiously and -not from merely selfish reasons or from an impulse of levity.” -No sentence ever written by my brother more fitly expressed -his attitude toward conviction and acting up to conviction.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164">164</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="VIII"></a>VIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">COWBOY AND CLUBMAN</span></h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">A RHYME OF THE ROUGH RIDERS</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ways of fate they had trod were as wide<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As the sea from the shouting sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when they had ranged them side by side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strenuous, eager, and ardent-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They were brothers in pluck, they were brothers in pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As the veriest brethren be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They heard no bugle-peal to thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As they crouched in the tangled grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the sound of bullets whirring shrill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From hidden hollow and shrouded hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they fought as only the valiant will<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the glades of Guasimas.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aye, they fought, let their blood attest!—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The blood of their comrades gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fought their bravest and fought their best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As when, like a wave, in their zealous zest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They swept and surged o’er the sanguine crest<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the heights of San Juan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So here’s to them all—a toast and a cheer!—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From the greatest down to the least,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heroes who fronted the deadliest fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leader and lad, each volunteer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The men whom the whole broad land holds dear<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From the western sea to the east!<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Clinton Scollard, 1898. -</div></div> -</div></blockquote> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Those</span> April days of 1898 in Washington were full of an -underlying current of excitement. Drifting toward war -we certainly were, and within a very short few weeks -the drift had become a fixed headway, and Captain Dewey, on -the receipt of a certain telegram from a certain acting secretary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165">165</a></span> -of the navy, was to enter Manila Bay, and by that entrance, -and by the taking of Cavite, to change forever the policy of the -United States. Theodore Roosevelt had been criticised for the -amount of ammunition used in practice by the gunners of the -navy during the past spring. He knew only too well that the -real extravagance in either army or navy comes from lack of -foresight, and the fine marksmanship of the sailors and marines -was to prove a feather in the cap of the young assistant secretary.</p> - -<p>Everything was bustle and hurry toward the end of April. -Within a few days the assistant secretary was to become the -lieutenant-colonel of the Rough Riders, or, as they were at -first called, The First U. S. Volunteer Cavalry. Mr. McKinley -offered to Mr. Roosevelt the colonelcy of the regiment, but he, -with modesty and intelligence, refused the offer, knowing that -he was not as well fitted by experience for the position as was -his friend, Mr. McKinley’s physician, that gallant surgeon in -the army, Leonard Wood, who had had as a younger man so -much experience in the campaign against Geronimo. The two -young men, within a year of each other in age, had been friends -for some time, having many tastes in common, and the same -stalwart attitude of unswerving Americanism. Their friendship -had been cemented during the spring of 1898 by the fact -that they felt that their views in connection with the mistakes -of Spain in Cuba were very sympathetic. On the long tramps -which they took together on those spring afternoons, they discussed -the all-important question over and over again, and also -discussed the possibility of raising a regiment of men from the -fearless, hardy cowboys and backwoodsmen of the West. It -was no sooner known that Leonard Wood and Theodore Roosevelt -were about to raise a regiment to go to Cuba than every -sort and kind of individual flocked to their standard. The -mobilization of the regiment took place in San Antonio, Texas.</p> - -<p>My brother writes to me on May 5, 1898, from Washington:</p> - -<p>“You could not give me a more useful present than the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166">166</a></span> -watch. It was exactly what I wished. Thank old Douglas too, -for the watch and for his many many kindnesses. I hope to -leave to-morrow, but Wood, who is now in San Antonio, may -keep me here a day or two longer to hurry up the shipment of -the troops, rifles, etc. I much want to get with the regiment -to help get it into shape, but there will be many tedious and -irritating delays, of course. I have about twenty-five ‘gentlemen -rankers’ going with me from the Knickerbocker Club, and -twelve clean-cut stalwart young fellows from Harvard,—such -fine boys. I feel rather like a fake at going, for we may never -get down to Cuba at all, and if we do, I do not think we shall -see very serious campaigning, while proper care will prevent the -serious risk of disease.”</p> - -<p>And again on May 8:</p> - -<p>“Kenneth turned up just in time. [Referring to my husband’s -young Scotch cousin, Kenneth Douglas Robinson, associated -with my husband in business, who was confident that he -was doing the right thing to follow his hero, Theodore Roosevelt, -into the Spanish War.] I enlisted him and sent him off with -Bob Ferguson [another Scotch friend] and the rest....”</p> - -<p>And again on May 12, after I had sent him a poem, he -writes:</p> - -<p>“My own darling sister:—I loved the poem and I loved your -dear letter; it made me sure that you really knew just how I -felt about going. I <em>could not</em> stay; that was the sum and substance -of it;—although I realize well how hard it is for Edith, -and what a change for the worse it means in my after life. It -will be bitter if we do not get to Cuba, but we shall have to take -things as they come. Your own brother.”</p> - -<p>I had doubted whether it was his duty to go to Cuba, feeling -it might be even more his duty to remain in his important -and difficult position of assistant secretary of the navy, but Theodore -Roosevelt would not have been his true self unless he had -practised what he had preached so vigorously.</p> - -<p>Kenneth Robinson writes on May 17 from San Antonio:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167">167</a></span> -“Theodore has been drilling us the last few days. The men -always do their best when he is out. He would be amused indeed -if he heard some of the adjectives and terms applied to -him, meant to be most complimentary but hardly fit for publication. -We certainly are a curious aggregation,—cavalry men, -cowboys, college men, etc.”</p> - -<p>And Bob Ferguson, our very dear friend who had made -America his home, and was like a member of our family, writes -early in June:</p> - -<p>“You should see some of the broncho busting that has been -going on daily in camp;—the most surprising horsemanship, -and though it cost about a man a day at first, knocked clean -out, the busted-rate is now diminishing. The men, as you can -imagine, are well satisfied with their commanders; Theodore -has a great hold on them, and before long he will be able to do -anything he likes with them. The Army officers said they had -never seen such a body of men. One of the troops from Arizona -came almost entirely from one large ranch; they all know each -other and will fight shoulder to shoulder. Our own troop—‘K’ -was rather a gay affair at first, a little gang of Fifth Avenue -‘Dudes’ having constituted themselves as leaders before Theodore -arrived, but now it has a large number of first rate cow-punchers -and sheriffs drafted into it, and has been increased -one-third beyond its normal strength. We are more or less intelligent, -and are looked to as the possible crack troop.”</p> - -<p>It is interesting to look back and remember that that Company -“K” was indeed a “crack troop,” and the writer of the -above lines became one of its most gallant officers. What a body -of men they were! The romance of mediæval days was reborn -in that regiment, and the strange part of it all was that they -had so much of chivalry about them, in spite of the roughness -of the cowboys, in spite of the madness of the bronco-busters, -in spite, perhaps, of another type of madness injected into the -regiment by the Fifth Avenue “Dudes”; still, that body of -men, as a whole, stood out for gallantry and courage, and gentleness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168">168</a></span> -of spirit wherever gentleness of spirit was needed in the -hard days to come. There was a poem written at that time, -“The Yankee Dude’ll Do,” and I remember the little thrill with -which I read it, realizing how the names that up to that time -had been connected with rather gay and useless lives became -bywords for hard, persistent work “to make” good in the various -companies.</p> - -<p>Theodore himself writes to me on June 7 in camp near -Tampa, Florida:</p> - -<p>“First Regiment, U. S. Volunteer Cavalry.</p> - -<p>“We are on the point of embarking for Cuba. Yesterday I -thought I was going to be left, and would have to stay on this -side during the first expedition for they intended to take but -four troops. Now, however, they intend to take eight, and -unless the transports give out, I shall go. I need not say how -rejoiced I am, for I could not help feeling very bitterly when it -seemed that I would be left. This really is a fine regiment, and -Count Von Goetzen and Capt. Lee, the German and English -Military Attachés, watched our gun drill yesterday in camp -with General Sumner, and all three expressed what seemed to -be sincere astonishment and pleasure at the rapidity with which -we had got the men into shape. I wish you could see how melancholy -the four troops that remain behind feel; it is very hard -on them. I had the last two squadrons under my care on the -harassing journey on the cars and it was no slight labor. How -I would like to have Douglas as an officer in this regiment with -me. He would take to it just as I do.</p> - -<p>“Well, if our hopes are realized, we sail tomorrow for Cuba, -but nobody can tell how many of us will get back, and I don’t -suppose there is much glory ahead, but I hope and believe we -shall do our duty, and the home-coming will be very very -pleasant for those who do come home.”</p> - -<p>How my heart ached as I read those last words and realized -that the chances, in all probability, were strongly against his -coming home again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169">169</a></span> -On June 12:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -On board U. S. Transport <i>Yucatan</i>. -</p> - -<p class="in0"> -<span class="smcap">Darling Corinne</span>: -</p> - -<p>I suppose it is simply the ordinary fortune of war for the -most irritating delays to happen, but it seems to me that the -people at Washington are inexcusable for putting us aboard -ship and keeping us crowded to suffocation on these transports -for six days in Tampa Harbor, in a semi-tropical sun. The men -take it with great resolution and good humour, but if we are -kept here much longer, it cannot fail to have a bad effect upon -them. We have been dismounted, but I care nothing for that -if only we are sent, and given a chance to get into the game. -I wish you could see or could have seen us at some of the crises -when, for instance, we spent all night standing up opposite a -railway track, waiting for a train to come, and finally taking -coal cars in the morning.</p></blockquote> - -<p>On the 14th he writes to my husband:</p> - -<p>“We are about to sail and as we are at the mouth of the harbor, -it is hardly likely that we can be recalled.... It has -been most interesting even when the work was irritating and -full of worry. The regiment is a wonderful body of men and -they have taken to discipline with astonishing readiness and -are wild with eager enthusiasm. Those of us who come out of -it safe will be bound together all our lives by a very strong tie. -You may rest assured I haven’t the slightest idea of taking any -risk I don’t feel I absolutely must take.”</p> - -<p>There was no doubt of the strong tie that bound the Rough -Riders, as they were later called, together. We always teased -my brother when, as President, he would suddenly announce -that “Happy Jack of Arizonia,” or some such erstwhile comrade, -was eminently fitted for a position for which the aforesaid -“Happy Jack” did not seem to have strong qualifications. How -they loved their leader, and how that love was returned! Whenever -my brother spoke of his “regiment” a note of tenderness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170">170</a></span> -came into his voice such as might be heard in the voice of a -woman when speaking of her lover.</p> - -<p>That same day, June 14, Bob Ferguson wrote to me:</p> - -<p>“Theodore is absolutely radiating. He just lent me ‘Vanity -Fair’ in return for a box of peppermints, and it has been queer -just at this moment to read about old Curzon street and the -Brussels’ Ball; but Becky made us laugh more than ever after -reading nothing but Tactics or a local newspaper for several -weeks.... This country is becoming the laughing-stock of -the world at present, and the German experts really do not believe -the United States can fight. It will bring on big world -complications unless they show their power soon.”</p> - -<p>The above opinion is interesting in the light of what the German -experts again felt about the United States before we entered -the Great War in 1917!</p> - -<p>On June 15 a letter dated in the Gulf of Mexico runs as -follows:</p> - -<p>“We are steaming southward through a sapphire sea, wind-rippled -under an almost cloudless sky. There are some forty-eight -craft in all, in three columns,—the black hulls of the transports -setting off the gray hull of the man-of-war. Last evening, -we stood up on the bridge and watched the red sun sink -and lights blaze up on the ships for miles ahead, while the band -played piece after piece from the Star Spangled Banner (at -which we all rose and stood uncovered) to The Girl I Left Behind -Me. It is a great historical expedition and I thrill to feel -that I am part of it. If we fail, of course, we share the fate of -all who do fail, and if we are allowed to succeed, for we certainly -shall succeed if allowed, we have scored the first great -triumph of what will be a world movement. All the young -fellows have dimly felt what this means, though the only articulate -soul and imagination among them belong, rather curiously, -to Ex-sheriff Capt. Buckey O’Neil of Arizona.”</p> - -<p>The above Buckey O’Neil, leaning over the rail at sunset, -would often quote Browning, my brother used to tell me, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171">171</a></span> -Whitman, or even Shelley. He was a real “Bret Harte” character, -and one of my brother’s greatest griefs in the days to -come was that that gallant officer was amongst the first to fall. -He had just exposed himself to Spanish fire somewhat unnecessarily, -and my brother said to him: “Get down, Buckey; I -cannot spare you.” The other laughingly replied, “There isn’t -a bullet made that can kill me, Colonel,” and literally, as he -spoke, a stray shot struck him and he fell dead across my brother’s -knees. But to return:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -June 20, 1898—Troop Ship near Santiago. -</p> - -<p>All day we have steamed close to the Cuban coast; high -barren-looking mountains rise abruptly from the shore, and -at this distance look much like those of Montana. We are well -within the tropics and at night, the Southern Cross is low above -the horizon. It seems too strange to see it in the same sky with -the friendly Dipper.</p></blockquote> - -<p>And then later:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -June 25, 1898—Las Guasimas— -</p> - -<p>Yesterday we struck the Spaniards and had a brisk fight -for two and a half hours before we drove them out of their position. -We lost twelve men, killed or mortally wounded, and -sixty, severely or slightly wounded. Brodie was wounded,—poor -Capron and Ham Fish were killed; one man was killed as -he stood beside a tree with me, another bullet went through a -tree behind which I stood and filled my eyes with bark. The -last charge I led on the left using a rifle I took from a wounded -man. Every man behaved well; there was no flinching. The -fire was very hot at one or two points where the men around -me went down like nine-pins. We have been ashore three days -and were moved at once to the front without our baggage. I -have been sleeping on the ground in a mackintosh, and so -drenched with sweat that I have not been dry a minute day -and night. The marches have been very severe. One of my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172">172</a></span> -horses was drowned swimming through the surf. It was a fierce -fight; the Spaniards shot well, but they did not stand when we -rushed.</p></blockquote> - -<p>We received the details of the fight of Las Guasimas on the -4th of July, I remember, and all night long I sat on my piazza -on Orange Mountain, thinking, with a strange horror, of the -danger in which my brother had been and still was.</p> - -<p>On June 27, 1898, another letter, this time dated Santiago:</p> - -<p>“We have a lovely camp here by a beautiful stream which -runs through jungle-land banks. The morning after the fight, -we buried our dead in a great big trench, reading the solemn -burial service over them, and all the regiment joined in singing -‘Rock of Ages.’ The woods are full of land crabs, some of -which are almost as big as rabbits; when things grew quiet, -they slowly gathered in gruesome rings around the fallen.”</p> - -<p>Bob Ferguson also adds interesting evidence to the courage -of the First Volunteer Cavalry under fire.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -Las Guasimas—June 25, 1898. -</p> - -<p>Theodore and Wood are more than delighted with the conduct -of the men. You never heard such a hail of shot. The -enemy, of course, knew when we would be in the jungle, and -we could only guess their whereabouts. Their volleys opened -up from all directions. Theodore did great work skipping from -one troop to another, and directed them as they were deployed, -but we can only trust that this kind of thing won’t happen too -often, for fear of results. It was, in fact, a surprise party, however, -an expected one. Our men rushed into a known ambush -with the careless dash of the cow-puncher. Once in, they literally -had to hug the ground while the trees above and beside -them were torn to shreds.... Theodore has marked the Spaniard -all right—and the name of his regiment will never be spoken -of any too lightly. They really did not understand fear and -would willingly repeat the dose tomorrow. Poor Ham Fish,—<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173">173</a></span>he -was such a good-hearted, game fellow, and I got to like him -ever so much on the way down;—it is more than much now!—The -Spaniards showed any amount of skill in their tactics, and -only the extraordinary grit of our men undid their calculation, -together with the good work of a parallel column of Regulars, -who cleared the Spaniards off a flanking ridge in the forest in -the finest style—otherwise they could have out-flanked us on -either side and given us Hell in open sight. So far, it seems like -fighting an army of invisible Pigmies.... Kenneth was awfully -good yesterday after the fight. He was the first to volunteer -to help the wounded when the entire troop was too exhausted -to move;—he carried them for hours until his back gave out.... -We really did splendidly yesterday. The Regulars are -to have their turn now. We have been blooded ourselves. We -lost too many officers. One little fellow, shot right through -both hips, was the greatest little sport. He refused to be attended -to until others were made comfortable, and he lay and -smoked his pipe patiently. One man walked to the hospital -with five wounds:—in the neck, right shoulder, right hand, left -thigh, and one other.</p></blockquote> - -<p>It is a matter of interest to print the above extracts, for even -when my brother wrote his book called “The Rough Riders,” -he could not give quite the spirit which the letters, penned at -the moment of the happenings, can so fitly interpret. Bob Ferguson -again, on July 5, gave an important description of my -brother:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -Before Santiago, July 5, 1898. -</p> - -<p>We have been having the devil of a fine time of it, shooting -Spaniards, and being “stormed at by shot and shell.” When -I caught up with Theodore, the day of his famous charge, (having -been held in the reserve line until tired of being pelted at -from a distance) “T” was revelling in victory. He had just -“doubled up” a Spanish officer like a jack-rabbit, as he retreated -from a block house.... That same evening, having<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174">174</a></span> -reached the most advanced crest possible, with about 300 men, -and having the whole Spanish Army firing at us from their entrenchments -around the city, the summit of our ambition was -almost reached.</p> - -<p>Theodore moved about in the midst of shrapnel explosions -like Shadrach, Meschach & Sons in the midst of the fiery furnace, -unharmed by the vicious Mauser balls or by the buzzing exploding -bullets of the Irregulars.... Theodore preferred to -stand up or walk about snuffing the fragrant air of combat. -I really believe firmly now, that they cannot kill him. It looks, -too, somewhat as if they would not get a chance for a spell, for -our lines are around the Spanish Dog’s throat, and he will be -smothered by our fire in a moment should the fight open once -more. It would seem a shame now to have to damage them any -more, for they say the streets are full of wounded and spent balls -shower among them.... Theodore has sure made his mark -on the Spaniard,—and the Rough Riders [the regiment had already -ceased to be called the First Volunteer Cavalry, and was -never again known as anything but the Rough Riders] will <em>remain</em>—pitching -bronchos and all, afoot or on horseback!... -The “bob whites” whistle all around these plantations, and -transport one straight back to Sagamore Hill on a summer’s -day. The mountains here are glorious; the valleys, a dream -of drooping palms, and dark, cool, shaded mangroves clustered; -soft bamboo waves near the creeks and smiling ridges, once all -under cultivation.</p></blockquote> - -<p>My brother himself, in a letter dated from Santiago, July -19, 1898, writes:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Darling Corinne:—‘Triumph tasted’!—for that, one will -readily pay as heavy a price as we have paid; but it is bitter -to think that part of the price was due to the mismanagement -of those in authority. The misery has been fearful. Today, -out of my four hundred odd men in camp, one hundred and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175">175</a></span> -twenty-three are under the doctor’s care. The rest of the six -hundred with whom I landed are dead or in the rear hospitals. -I cannot explain the breakdown of the transportation service, -the commissariat, or the hospital service.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>I quote the above letter for the special purpose of recalling -to my readers the fact that Colonel Roosevelt was much criticised -later for instigating the writing of a “round-robin” letter -in the summer, urging the authorities to bring home the regiments -after the victory was won. Due to the “breakdown” -which he describes, the men were dying like flies, and had that -“round robin” (severely censured by my brother’s enemies) -not been written, had the authorities at Washington not decided -to follow the suggestions of Theodore Roosevelt and order our -gallant men back from their death-trap, very few of that expedition -to Cuba would have lived to tell the tale. At the end -of the above letter, after describing in full the sufferings of the -men because of lack of care, he says:</p> - -<p>“They have been worn down by the terrific strain of fighting, -marching, digging in the trenches, during the tropical midsummer; -they have been in the fore-front, all through, they -never complained though half-fed and with clothes and shoes -in tatters; but it is bitter to think of the wealth at home, which -would be so gladly used in their behalf if only it could be so -used. They are devoted to me, and I cannot get their condition -out of my thoughts. If only you could see them in battle, -or feeding these wretched refugee women and children, whose -misery beggars description. [Did I not say that these wild, -strong men of the West were gentle in heart as well as fierce in -courage!]</p> - -<p>“Well, it is a great thing to have led such a regiment on the -crowning day of its life. Young Burke [Eddie Burke] is well -and is a first-class man and soldier. I like and respect him. Bob -earned his promotion. The New York men have stood the strain -well. I felt dreadfully about Kenneth’s wound that day, but I -was near the line, with my men, nearest the Spaniard, and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176">176</a></span> -could not have gone back or held back for my own son. No -man was ahead of me when we charged or rushed to the front -to repel a charge; and indeed, I think my men would follow -me literally anywhere. In the hard days I fared absolutely -as they did, in food and bedding,—or rather, the lack of both. -Now, yellow fever has broken out in the Army and I know not -when we shall get away, but whatever comes, it is all right and -I am content. Love to little Teddy and all the others. Your -brother.”</p> - -<p>The same day he wrote my husband:</p> - -<p>“Two of our men have died of yellow fever. We hope to -keep it out of camp, and if we succeed, I trust we shall soon get -to Porto Rico. Whatever comes, I cannot say how glad I am -to have been in this. I feel that I now leave the children a memory -that will partly offset the fact that I did not leave them much -money. I have been recommended for the Colonelcy of this -regiment, and for the medal of honor. Of course, I hope to get -both, but I really don’t care very much, for the <em>thing itself</em> is -more important than the reward, and I have led this regiment -during the last three weeks, the crowning weeks of its life. There -is nothing I would have exchanged for having led it on horseback, -where, first of all the army, we broke through the enemy’s -entrenchments. By the way, I then killed a Spaniard myself -with the pistol Will Cowles raked up from the <i>Maine</i>. Of the -six hundred men with whom I landed, less than three hundred -are left; the others are dead or in the hospital; the mismanagement -has been beyond belief.”</p> - -<p>Alas, how sad it seems that the mismanagement should have -been beyond belief at such a time!</p> - -<p>On July 27 a letter dated “First Regiment, U. S. Volunteer -Cavalry, in camp near Santiago de Cuba,” was received by my -husband. A very characteristic letter it was, full of the joy of -a fight well fought, and full also, of that tremendous human -sympathy with his men, combined with an intelligent practicality -which resulted later in the “round robin,” requesting that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177">177</a></span> -the men who had fought so bravely, should not be allowed to -die of disease unnecessarily by being retained for no good -reason in the broiling heat of a Cuban summer.</p> - -<p>“Dear Douglas,” he writes, “we had a bully fight at Santiago, -and though there was an immense amount that I did not -exactly enjoy, the charge itself was great fun. Frankly, it did -not enter my head that I could get through without being hit, -but I judged that even if hit, the chances would be about 3 to -1 against my being killed.</p> - -<p>“As far as the political effect of my actions;—in the first -place, I never <em>can</em> get on in politics, and in the second, I would -rather have led that charge and earned my colonelcy, than serve -three terms in the United States Senate. It makes me feel as -though I could now leave something to my children which will -serve as an apology for my having existed. [How much his -existence needed an apology!] In spite of the strain, and the -anything but hygienic conditions under which we have lived, -I am in very good health. If we stay here all summer, we shall -have yellow fever among us, of course, but I rather think I will -pull through that too. I wish they would let us go to Porto Rico, -or if not, then let me get all my regiment together in Maine or -somewhere like that and get them in trim for the great campaign -against Havana in the Fall. I wish you could see these -men. I am as proud of them as I can be, and I verily believe -they would go anywhere with me. They are being knocked down -right and left, however, with the fever. I shan’t take any risks -unless I really think I ought to, and now, I begin to believe that -I am going to get home safely.”</p> - -<p>A letter from Bob Ferguson about the same time backs up -his future position in regard to moving the men, and reiterates:</p> - -<p>“It was a glorious spin, over trenches and barbed wires instead -of oaken panels, however. One never expects to see the -like again;—Corinne and Anna must have suffered terribly from -Theodore’s wild, whirlwind career! His courage all through -was so simple and so true to him. The Spaniards laughed at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178">178</a></span> -the Cubans, and said they had no fighting to do until the Americans -came;—they ‘kept on coming.’ One officer told Colonel -Wood that the Americans were ‘magnanimous, brave, and ferocious.’ -If Cervera had stayed in harbor with his ships, we would -have been in the devil of a hole between starvation and fever. -It is lucky things went as they did.”</p> - -<p>And again, on August 6, he writes to me:</p> - -<p>“These dreary Cuban days and dark and dismal nights are -drawing to a close for the time,—Thank the Lord and Theodore. -[The much-criticised “round robin” had had its effect.] It is -hardly fair to damn this country that way, however, for in reality, -it is most inexplicably beautiful. In the sunshine of the -morning, when once in a while an almost refreshing breeze comes, -then the tropical valleys bask and smile in the most enticing -luxuriance, and entrance one into lazy dreams of fairy-land. -The mass of the scarlet acacia, the trails of morning-glories, and -lilies, and the hot growth of all kinds,—above all, the graceful -and kingly royal palm and his harem, the slender, tall, clustering -bamboos,—are all lovely. These things by moon-light -were simply inexpressible; however, the real side of nature is -deadly sun, over-whelming, drenching rain, dark, drizzly mist -and dew, fever, malaria, filth, disgust with everything. Well, -this is at an end now, and almost time it were, for there would -not be many left to tell the tale if left here all summer as the -President and Secretary proposed to leave us only a couple of -days ago, but Theodore ‘sicked one’ as your Stewart’s whole -pack of pup-dogs could not commence to do. If we take a final -fall, it will be at Havana in the autumn and not with yellow fever, -if we can help it, here at Santiago. You all had a dreadful -time of it, probably far worse than we merry men of the Greenwood. -Honestly, while it is all going along and when there is -an advance, the spirits rise amazingly and one trips forward -as gaily as in Sir Roger or any other airy measure. That, however, -is the one really satisfactory sensation. Lying passive in -reserve, and being searched and found by the long-range mausers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179">179</a></span> -and shrapnel in the bushes, is not so cheerful an occupation; -in fact, it is a low proceeding altogether.</p> - -<p>“Whooping along from time to time ‘thoro bush—thoro -brier,’ with a wildish throng, firing, cheering, laughing, and running,—that, -is a very different story, and holding the advance -point in spite of orders to retire (!) is another thing to make -even novices chuckle inwardly when they once feel they can do -it,—but Theodore was the sparkle to all that fun.</p> - -<p>“I could make your flesh creep, however, with horror; meanwhile, -you can picture to yourself in pleasant nightmares, flocks -of vultures and buzzards, the dead and wounded lost in the -tangled growth,—and swarms of crabs,—great big land crabs -with one, enormous, lobster-like claw, creeping, rustling, scuffling -thro’ the dried aloes and palmettoes.... War never -changes its hideous phantasms. The heroism of even modern -men (and none the less of the women who let them go) is the one -thing to glory and hope in. We pack up tonight. My love to -all.”</p> - -<p>And so ended the brief and glorious career of the Rough -Riders, a career which has about it a touch of Roland and Robin -Hood. These letters, written <em>at the time</em>, are valuable refutations -of some bruited questions, and the very people who criticised -certain actions of my brother, <em>at the time</em>, would be the first, -I verily believe, now, to wish they had withheld their criticism.</p> - -<p>The depleted regiment, emaciated beyond words, returned -to Montauk Point on Long Island, and my husband and I came -down from the Adirondack Mountains to meet them at Camp -Wyckoff. What a night we spent in a Red Cross tent at the -camp! How we talked! How good it was to greet the gallant -men again, so many of whom we knew and loved, and how infinitely -interesting to come in contact with the wild Westerners -about whose courage and determination my brother had written -such glowing accounts.</p> - -<p>In the last letter my brother wrote to my husband from Santiago, -the sentence “As for the political effect of my actions,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180">180</a></span> -I never can get on in politics” was soon to be refuted, for hardly -had he arrived at Montauk than the politicians flocked surreptitiously -to sound him as to the possibility of his running -for governor of New York State, but that’s another story!</p> - -<p>The throb of parting from their leader was soon to be experienced -by the gallant men who had followed Theodore Roosevelt -so eagerly in the Cuban jungles. Picturesque to the end, -the mustering out of the Rough Riders, under blue autumnal -skies at Montauk Point, was the culmination of its romantic -career, and many a ferocious fighter and wild bronco-buster -turned from the last hand-clasp of his colonel with tears in the -eyes which had not flinched before the fiercest Spanish onslaught.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181">181</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="IX"></a>IX<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE ROUGH RIDER STORMS THE CAPITOL -AT ALBANY</span></h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center vspace2">THE MAN WHO CAN<br /> - -(Old Saxon for “The King”)<br /> - -<span class="smcap">Written of Theodore Roosevelt</span></p> - -<div class="p1 poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How shall we know “the man who can”?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(That was the Saxon phrase, they say.)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, perchance we shall find the man<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Close to our hearts and lives to-day!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soldier and patriot, strong of hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Keen of vision to know the time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick and true to the hour’s demand,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Poet, too, without rune or rhyme!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Poet, because through mists of sin<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He finds the best as it yet shall be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faces evil, yet dares begin<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To <em>live</em> the good that his soul can see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Speech like an arrow, swift and straight,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Strength that smites to the core of wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smile that mocks but an adverse fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heart of a boy, that leaps to song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Honor scornful of life or place,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Courage brightest in sordid strife;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such is the man whose first, best grace<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Was the simple crown of a stainless life!<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Marion Couthouy Smith. -</div></div> -</div></blockquote> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">It</span> could not have been a pleasant thought to Mr. Thomas -Platt (the acknowledged Republican boss of New York -State, and a most interesting and unusual personality) when -he realized that the tremendous popularity of the colonel of -the Rough Riders would force him to accept the suggestion of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182">182</a></span> -some of the Republican leaders that this same colonel should -be the Republican nominee for governor that autumn of 1898. -The dash of the Rough Riders up San Juan Hill was not more -strenuous than Theodore Roosevelt’s sudden and unexpected -storming of the Albany Capitol. What an autumn it was! -Every imaginable obstacle was put in the way of his success. -He was accused of not having paid his taxes; he was bitterly -impugned by a certain number of his former friends and adherents—Independents—who -did not believe that he should -accept the “regular” nomination, and many and varied were -the battles fought about and around his personality.</p> - -<p>The whole campaign had to be arranged so suddenly and -hurriedly that all kinds of amusing, although sometimes unpleasant, -contretemps occurred. One remains clearly in my -mind. There was to be held near Troy a country fair. Its date -had apparently not been determined upon before my brother -had agreed to speak at what promised to be a large colored -meeting the evening of the same day on which the fair was to -be held. My brother had not expected to have to go to the fair, -but a sudden summons came, saying that it was very important -that he should appear and make an out-of-door speech to a large -concourse of up-state farmers. He was torn from Oyster Bay -at an abnormally early hour and dashed up to Troy. Meanwhile, -the newspapers of Albany and Troy had announced that -he could not be present owing to his engagement for the evening -in New York. The consequence was that the attendance -at the fair at the time he was supposed to speak was almost nil, -and he returned to New York much depressed at the apparent -lack of interest. I came in from my country home to dine with -him and go to the colored meeting. The colored people were -especially enthusiastic about my brother’s candidacy, because -the Tenth Regiment of regulars, a colored regiment, had stormed -San Juan Hill side by side with the Rough Riders. The meeting -scheduled had been widely heralded, and we started for the -hall with the conviction that although the <em>day</em> had been a failure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183">183</a></span> -the <em>night</em> was going to justify our highest expectations. Arriving -at the hall, one old man with a long gray beard, sitting in -the front seat, was apparently the total of the great audience -that had been promised. My brother and I waited in the little -room near the platform, anxiously peering out every now and -then, hoping that the hall would soon be filled to overflowing, -but no one came, and after an hour and a half of disheartening -disappointment, we shook hands warmly with the faithful elderly -adherent—who had remained silently in his seat during this -period of waiting—and left the hall. My brother, in spite of -distinct distress of mind, turned laughingly to me as we walked -rapidly away and said, quoting from Maria Edgeworth’s immortal -pages: “Little Rosamund’s day of misfortunes!” The -next day the morning newspapers announced that the evening -newspapers had given the misinformation that the Republican -candidate for governor would not be able to return from the -Troy fair in time for the colored meeting, an announcement -which had so discouraged the colored folk that only one old man -had been true to his colors!</p> - -<p>From that day on, through the strenuous campaign, my -brother was known by the family entirely as “Little Rosamund.”</p> - -<p>Another evening comes back to my mind. My husband and -my brother had left me in my country home on the hill at Orange, -and they were supposed to return at eleven o’clock that night. -The last train arrived and my carriage returned from it empty. -I was worried, for they were so thoughtful that I felt they would -surely have telephoned to relieve my possible anxiety, and when -at twelve o’clock the telephone-bell rang, I ran to the instrument -expecting to hear a familiar voice, instead of which “I am a -<cite>World</cite> reporter” was what I heard, “and I would like to know -where Colonel Roosevelt and Mr. Douglas Robinson are.” “I -cannot give you any information,” I replied discreetly, and -more truthfully than usual, I confess. “It is very strange,” -said the voice—a distant unknown voice at twelve o’clock -at night, when you are the sole occupant of a remote country<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184">184</a></span> -house, always has a somewhat eerie effect—“for we have traced -them up to within the last hour and we cannot find them anywhere.” -A slight wave of apprehension passed over me, but -at the same time I was sufficiently confident of my two stalwart -gentlemen not to have any serious fear concerning their whereabouts, -and suddenly seized with an irresistible desire to be -“funny”—a perfectly inexcusable inclination in a political campaign—I -said to the reporter: “Wait one moment, please. Should -you by any chance discover the whereabouts of Colonel Roosevelt -and Mr. Robinson, would you be kind enough to let <em>me</em> -know where they are?” I have always remembered the sound -of the distant laugh of the man as I hurriedly put down the telephone-receiver, -fully realizing my mistake in becoming jocose, -and sure enough the next morning, in large headlines, appeared -on the front page of the <cite>World</cite>: “Mrs. Douglas Robinson has -no knowledge where Colonel Roosevelt and Mr. Douglas Robinson -have spent the night.”</p> - -<p>Another incident that comes back into my memory was an -evening in Chickering Hall, almost immediately before Election -day, at which many well-known speakers were to make -their plea for the election of Theodore Roosevelt, and at which, -also, that most brilliant of speakers and charming of men, Mr. -Joseph H. Choate, was to bring the evening to a climax. As -Election day drew near, the great boss of Tammany Hall, -Richard Croker, forsook his usual methods of strict silence, and -began to be loquacious. Croker, when running a candidate, was -always very careful indeed to keep the mystery of the Wigwam -(Tammany) wrapped closely about him, but as the fight waxed -hot and heavy, he lost his control and said many a foolish thing, -and the Republican papers jubilantly announced that when -Croker began to talk, it meant that he knew that his cause was -lost.</p> - -<p>At the meeting at Chickering Hall, when Mr. Choate rose -to make the final speech of the evening, he said:</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen, it is late; you have heard many<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185">185</a></span> -speakers and I shall be brief. All that I wish to do is to recall -to your minds a certain Bible story—you may not have the incident -clear in your memory. I refer to the story of Balaam -and his ass!” Here the learned speaker paused and his audience -concentrated their attention upon him, somewhat puzzled as -to what he was about to say. He continued: “You may remember -that Balaam was riding upon the ass through a dark forest, -and that suddenly the ass stopped, and even more suddenly, -<em>the ass spoke</em>!” Mr. Choate paused again, and the audience -suddenly rippled out their mirth and their realization that the -“ass” who spoke had a distinct reference to the utterances of -Croker. As the laughter grew louder, Mr. Choate suddenly -lifted his hand in the most impressive manner, and continued -in a serious tone full of dramatic power: “But, ladies and gentlemen, -you have perhaps forgotten <em>why</em> the ass spoke. The reason -that he did so was because directly in his path, in shining garments, -stood a young man with a flaming sword in his hand!” -As one man the audience rose to its feet! Simultaneously, a -great cheer rose to the lips of every one present, for the figure -of speech had done its work, and each person in the house visualized -the figure of Theodore Roosevelt, ardent and young, -courageous and honest, truly “a young man with a flaming -sword in his hand!”</p> - -<p>Election day came and with it an overwhelming victory for -the man who so lately had written to Douglas Robinson: “As -for the political effect of my actions, I never can get on in -politics.”</p> - -<p>During his incumbency as governor of New York State he -always made his headquarters either at the house of my sister, -Mrs. Cowles, or at my house, and many were the famous breakfast-parties -at 422 Madison Avenue in those strenuous days. -He was criticised for breakfasting with Mr. Platt and Mr. Odell -(Mr. Platt’s associate boss), but almost all of those much-discussed -meals took place at my own house, and many a time -Messrs. Platt and Odell had the unusual experience of finding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186">186</a></span> -that they were apparently expected to sit upon one chair, as -my brother had invited so many more people to breakfast than -could possibly be seated at my comparatively small table. After -breakfast was over, Mr. Platt would say in a rather stern manner, -“And now, Governor Roosevelt, I should like to have a -private word with you,” and my brother would answer, “Why, -certainly, Mr. Platt, we will go right up to my sister’s library—good-by, -gentlemen,” turning to his other guests, and then to -Mr. Platt again, “We shall be quite private except for my sister. -I always like to have her present at all my conferences. She -takes so much interest in what I am doing!” This with a humorous -side-glance at me, knowing how irritating my presence -was to the gentleman in question. I can bear witness to the -fact that through those many conferences my brother’s courtesy -to the brilliant older man never failed, nor did he ever lose -his independent outlook or action. My brother’s effort to work -with Mr. Platt rather than against him also never failed, and -many a time I have heard him say: “Mr. Platt, I would rather -accept your suggestion of an appointee than that of any one -else <em>if</em> you will suggest as good and honorable a man as any one -else. I <em>want</em> to work with you and I know that your great information -about Republican affairs is of enormous value to me, -but I must reserve my own power of decision in all matters, -although I hope always to be in accord with you.”</p> - -<p>The Rough Riders were always turning up on every occasion, -or if they did not actually turn up in <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">propria persona</i>, strange -letters on many and varied subjects came to my house from -them. Amongst these letters one arrived when my brother was -breakfasting with me one morning at my house. The mail that -morning was unique in more ways than one, for another letter -arrived with no name and no address on it. Instead of name -and address there was a drawing of a large set of teeth, and on -the reverse side of the envelope was written: “Please let Jack -Smith, 211 W. 139th Street, know whether this letter reaches -its destination. It is a bet and a lot of money hangs in the balance”!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187">187</a></span> -Those strong white teeth, which had been the terror -of the recreant policemen, were quite as much a factor at the -Capitol on the hill at Albany.</p> - -<p>In the same mail, as I said, came a very characteristic epistle -from a Rough Rider, which ran as follows:</p> - -<p>“Dear Colonol: Please come right out to Dakota. They -ain’t treatin me right out here. The truth is, Colonel, they -have put me in jail and I ain’t ought to be here at all, cause what -they say ain’t true, Colonel. They say that I shot a lady in -the eye and it ain’t true, Colonel, for I was shootin at my wife -at the time.—I know you will come and get me out of jail right -off, Colonel,—please hurry. J. D.”</p> - -<p>How my brother laughed as he turned the manuscript over -to me, and said: “They are the most unconscionable children -that ever were, but oh what fighting men they made!”</p> - -<p>Another amusing incident occurred at the house of my sister, -where we were all lunching one day, having one of our merry -family reunions to meet the governor. My sister had just returned -from Europe with a “perfect treasure” of an English -butler, who had not yet become entirely accustomed to the -vagaries of the Roosevelt family! We were in the midst of a -specially merry argument when the door-bell rang and the butler -left the dining-room to answer the bell. In a few moments he -returned with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face, and -leaning over my brother’s chair, he said in a stage whisper: -“There is a —— there is a —— <em>gentleman</em> in the hall, sir —— -he says, sir, that his name, sir, is —— <em>Mr.</em> ‘Happy Jack’ of -Arizona.” “Why,” said my brother, leaping to his feet, “I -didn’t know that ‘Happy Jack’ was in New York,” and he hurriedly -left the room to welcome his precious Rough Rider. In -a few moments he came back literally doubled up with laughter, -and burst out: “You know, there has been a great deal in the -newspapers about the trouble that I have had with importunate -office seekers, who have forced themselves, in a very disagreeable -way, into the executive mansion at Albany. Dear old<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188">188</a></span> -‘Happy Jack’ read, way out in Arizona, about the annoyance -I was having with these people, and he just packed his kit and -came all the way from Arizona to offer to be ‘bouncer-out’ of -the executive mansion! Wasn’t that fine of ‘Happy Jack’!”</p> - -<p>Several years later, when my brother was President of the -United States, I was in England and I spent a week-end with -the St. Loe Stracheys in Surrey, where Lord and Lady Cromer -were also passing Sunday. Lord Cromer having, as a young -man, visited our Western plains and prairies, adored the stories -of the Rough Riders, and especially the incident of “Happy -Jack’s” desire to become “bouncer-out” of the executive mansion. -He loved the story so much that he insisted upon my -telling it to another English peer, in whom the sense of humor -was less striking than in Lord Cromer. I shall never forget the -dreary sensation of struggling to tell Earl S—— that particular -story. We were at a rather dreary garden-party, and Lord -Cromer had presented his friend for the special purpose of having -me tell this Rough Rider story. Much against my will, I acceded -to his request, and the story seemed to get longer and longer -and duller and duller in the telling. Having mentioned the -“perfect treasure” of a butler in the beginning of the tale, that -seemed to be the rudder to which Earl S—— clung through the -involutions of Rough Riderism, and as I stumbled on to the ever-lengthening -end of that unfortunate anecdote, the English peer -in question turned to me as I fell into silence and said, coldly and -courteously: “Is that all?” “Yes,” I said hastily, “quite -all.” “Oh!” said my companion, with a sigh of relief, and then -feeling that he had not been quite sufficiently sympathetic, he -added courteously: “And did the butler stay?” When I returned -with this sequel to the story of “Happy Jack” of Arizona -and recounted it to my brother, he laughed immoderately and -said: “I know you must have suffered telling the story, but -that postscript to the story is worth all the pain you suffered.”</p> - -<p>One afternoon in May, I think in the year 1900, my brother -telephoned me that he wanted to bring several men to dinner<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189">189</a></span> -the following day, amongst others, Mr. Winston Churchill, -of England, now so well known all over the world, but then -still very young, though having had many experiences as a writer -in connection with the Boer War. He was making a speaking -tour in America. As usual, the little party grew, and when we -assembled at dinner the following evening, dear old General -Wheeler (Fighting Joe), Mr. St. Clair McKelway, of the Brooklyn -<cite>Eagle</cite>, and one or two others, I remember being very much interested -in Mr. Churchill’s method of probing Governor Roosevelt’s -mind. The young Englishman, of mixed parentage, had -on his American side a certain quality unusual in the average -Englishman, and the rapid fire of his questioning was very characteristic -of the land of his mother’s birth, while a certain “sureness” -of point of view might be attributed to both countries. -At one period during the dinner he referred to a certain incident -that had occurred in Africa, and relegated it to the action which -took place at Bloemfontein. My brother very courteously said: -“I beg your pardon, but that particular incident took place, -if I am not mistaken, at Magersfontein.” The young Englishman -flushed and repeated with determination that it had occurred -at Bloemfontein, and added the fact, which was already -known to us, that he had been there. My brother again, his -head a little on one side, and still most courteously, reiterated: -“I think, Mr. Churchill, if you will stop and think for a moment, -you will remember that I am right in this instance, and that -that incident took place at Magersfontein.” Mr. Churchill -paused a moment in the ever-ready flow of his talk and then -suddenly, with a rather self-conscious frown, said: “You are -right, governor, and I am mistaken. It did occur at Magersfontein.” -This anecdote I give simply to show, what is known -by all who were intimate with my brother, namely, the extraordinary -accuracy with which he followed the affairs of the day, -and the equally extraordinary memory which retained the detail -of individual occurrences in a most unusual manner. In -the soft spring air we sat later in the evening by the open window<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190">190</a></span> -while General Wheeler, son of the South, veteran of the -Civil War, and Theodore Roosevelt, son of the North, who had -so lately led his famous regiment through the Cuban jungles -in close proximity to General Wheeler, told story after story of -the way in which, shoulder to shoulder, they had buried the old -differences in the new co-operation.</p> - -<p>In May, 1899, I received one of the comparatively few letters -which came to me while my brother was governor, for we met -so frequently that we rarely wrote. The following letter, coming -as it did at the end of his first year of service as governor of New -York State, is of special interest.</p> - -<p>“Darling Corinne,” he says, “your letter touched me deeply. -It was so good to catch a glimpse of you the other day. I -have accomplished a certain amount for good this year. I want -to see you and go over it all at length with you. In a way, -there is a good deal that is disappointing about it because I had -to act, especially towards the end, <em>against</em> the wishes of the machine -people who have really given me my entire support, and -<em>with</em> the reformers, labor and otherwise, who are truly against -me whenever it comes down to anything really important to -me. We have just returned from a really delightful driving -trip to a quaint, clean, little inn at Crooked Lake, some eighteen -miles off. We drove out there Saturday with every child except -Quentin, and back again on Sunday. Everything went off without -a hitch and Edith and I enjoyed it as much as the children.... -My love to Douglas and to blessed little Corinne. Ever -yours, T. R.”</p> - -<p>Nothing was more discouraging to my brother during his -long and varied career than the fact that the so-called reformers -were frequently so visionary that they were rarely, if ever, to -be counted upon where an effort to achieve a distinct practical -purpose was concerned, but the disappointments which he perpetually -endured from this attribute never induced him to yield -to the machine politicians unless he felt that by so doing he -could achieve the higher end for which he always worked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191">191</a></span> -A little later in May of that same year, 1899, he writes me -in patient answer to various questions: “In reference to my attitude -on the bills that have not passed, there are hundreds of -people to whom, if I had time, I should explain my attitude, -but I have not the time. I have the gravest kind of doubts, for -instance, as to the advantages to the State of our High School -system, as at present carried out.... I strongly believe that -there has been a tendency amongst some of the best educators -recently to divert from mechanical trades, people who ought, for -their own sake, to keep in at the mechanical trades.” He was -always so willing to answer my questions, even when pressed by -many harassing affairs.</p> - -<p>From Oyster Bay, on July 17, 1899, he writes as one freed -temporarily from the cares of state, and speaking of my eldest -boy, who was then sixteen, he says: “I am afraid it is dull here -for Teddy. You see, we have no one here quite his age and -he has passed the time when such a simple pleasure as a scramble -down Cooper’s Bluff appears enthralling, although I take him -down it nevertheless. He is a very fine fellow.... I have -been giving him information about his hunting trip.” Again -the painstaking effort to be helpful to me and mine, and, indeed, -all those who needed his help or advice.</p> - -<p>On December 18, having returned to Albany, he plans a -hurried trip to New York, and writes characteristically: “On -Thursday, December 21st, may I have dinner at seven o’clock? -If you are going out, do remember, that seriously, I am quite -as happy with bread and milk as with anything else. Ever yours, -Theodore Roosevelt.” What could be more unusual than the -governor of New York State being “quite as happy with bread -and milk as with anything else”! And I really think he was -rather happier with bread and milk than with anything else, -much to the occasional discomfort of the fastidious companions -who sometimes ran across his rather primitive path.</p> - -<p>My last letter of that year, and, indeed, of the period during -which he was governor, was late in December, 1899, and it ran<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192">192</a></span> -as follows: “On Saturday I find Senator Platt wants me to -breakfast with him at the Fifth Avenue.” That was one of -the rare occasions when the unfortunate senator induced the -governor to part from his sister, and the inevitable presence of -that sister at the conferences which Senator Platt quite naturally -preferred to have alone with the governor. The letter continues: -“On Friday, at half past eight, General Greene, Mr. F. S. Witherbee, -Mr. Fox and Mr. MacFarlane will give you the unexpected -pleasure of breakfasting with you. Is this all right?” Needless -to say, it was all right; only, if I remember correctly, a large -number were added equally unexpectedly to the four above-mentioned -gentlemen. Those breakfasts were the most delightful -of meals. My brother’s friend Professor William M. Sloane -in later days was frequently a member of the breakfast-parties -at my house, and he used, laughingly, to remark that he wondered -why we were all bidden so promptly at half past eight -when the gentleman who so sternly called others from their comfortable -beds on cold winter mornings at that matutinal hour -seemed always able to sit over the breakfast-table until about -eleven! That, however, was not the case in those early gubernatorial -days, for the young governor was pressed with too many -affairs to yield to his Southern inclination to “brood” over the -breakfast-table.</p> - -<p>In later days at the rare periods of comparative leisure, between -1910 and 1912, the “half-hours at the breakfast-table” -were prolonged into several whole hours, and many a time my -friend Mrs. Parsons and I have listened to the most enchanting -discussions on the part of Colonel Roosevelt and Professor Sloane, -dealing occasionally with Serb or Rumanian literature or the -intricacies of Napoleonic history.</p> - -<p>One luncheon during the time that my brother was governor -stands out clearly in my mind, owing to an amusing incident -connected with it. My dining-room at 422 Madison -Avenue was small, and fourteen people were the actual limit -that it could hold. One day, he having told me that he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193">193</a></span> -bringing ten people to lunch, and realizing his hospitable inclinations, -I had had the table set for the limit of fourteen. We were -already thirteen in the sitting-room when the door-bell rang and, -looking out of the window, he turned to me with a troubled expression -and said: “I think I see two people coming up the front -steps, and that will make fifteen.” I suddenly decided to be -unusually firm and said: “Theodore, I have not places for fifteen; -you said there would only be ten. I am delighted to have fourteen, -but you will have to tell one of those two people that they -will have to go somewhere else for lunch.” He went out into the -hall, and in a moment returned with one of his beloved Rough -Riders and an air of triumph on his face. I whispered, “Were -there really two, and who was the other, and what has happened -to him?” and he whispered back, like a child who has had a -successful result in some game, “Yes, there were two—the other -was the president of the University of ——. I told them they -had to toss up, and the Rough Rider won”—this with a chuckle -of delight!</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194">194</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="X"></a>X<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HOW THE PATH LED TO THE WHITE HOUSE</span></h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">Frédéric Mistral, the Provençal poet, said of Theodore Roosevelt:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">C’est lui qui donne une nouvelle espérance à l’humanité.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div></blockquote> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Toward</span> the spring of 1900, while my brother was in his -second arduous year of activity as governor of New York -State, he came one afternoon to my house, as he frequently -did, for he made headquarters there whenever he was in New -York. I remember I was confined to my room with an attack -of grippe. The door-bell rang in the rapid, incisive way which -always marked his advent, and in a moment or two I heard him -come bounding up the stairs to my bedroom. He seemed to -bring the whole world of spring sunshine into the room with him, -and before I could say anything to greet him he called out: -“Pussie, haven’t <em>we</em> had fun being governor of New York State?” -I remember the grippe seemed to leave me entirely. My heart -was full of that elation which he alone could give by his power -of sharing everything with me. He sat down in a rocking-chair -by me and began to rock violently to and fro, every now -and then receding almost the whole length of the room as he -talked, and then rocking toward me with equal rapidity when -he wished to emphasize some special point in his conversation. -When he stopped for breath, I said laughingly, but with a certain -serious undertone in the midst of my laughter: “Theodore, -are you not going to take a complete rest <em>some time</em> this summer? -You certainly need it. It has been year after year, one thing -after another, more and more pressing all the time—civil service -commissioner, police commissioner, assistant secretary of the -navy, lieutenant-colonel, then colonel of the Rough Riders,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195">195</a></span> -and all that that campaign meant, and now nearly two years of -hard work as governor of New York State. Surely, you must -take some rest this summer.”</p> - -<p>He looked back at me rather as one of my little boys would -look if I spoke to them somewhat harshly, and answered in a -very childlike way: “Yes, of course you are right. I do mean -to take a rest of <em>one whole</em> month this summer.” I said: “That -isn’t very much—one month, but still it is better than nothing. -Now, do you really mean that you are going to rest for one whole -month?” “Yes,” he answered, as if he were doing me the greatest -possible favor, “I really mean to rest one whole month. I -don’t mean to do one <em>single</em> thing during that month—except -write a life of Oliver Cromwell.” How I laughed! What an -idea of complete rest—to write a life of Oliver Cromwell! And -write a life of Oliver Cromwell he did during that period of -complete rest, but before he was able to do it there came many -another stirring event and change in the outlook of his existence.</p> - -<p>Messrs. Platt and Odell, supposedly the arbiters of the fate -of every New York State governor, agreed that two years of -Theodore Roosevelt in the Executive Mansion at Albany was -quite enough, and that come what might, he should not have -another term, and so they bent all their subtle political acumen -toward the achievement of their wish to remove him. They -would, however, have been thwarted in their purpose had not -the Western part of our country decided also that Theodore -Roosevelt’s name was necessary on the presidential ticket, to -be headed, for a second time, by William McKinley.</p> - -<p>The young governor, deeply absorbed in the many reforms -which he had inaugurated in the Empire State, was anything -but willing to be, as he felt he would be, buried in Washington -as vice-president, but as the time drew near for the Republican -Convention of June, 1900, more and more weight was thrown -in the balance to persuade him to accept the nomination.</p> - -<p>I have frequently said in these pages that one of the most -endearing characteristics of my brother was his desire to have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196">196</a></span> -my sister and myself share in all of his interests, in his glory, -or in his disappointments, and so, when the convention at Philadelphia -met, and as the contending forces struggled around him, -he telegraphed to my husband and myself, who were then at -our country home in New Jersey, and begged us to come on to -Philadelphia, and be near him during the fray. Needless to -say, we hurried to his side.</p> - -<p>I shall always remember arriving at that hotel in Philadelphia. -How hot those June days were, and how noisy and -crowded the corridors of the hotel were when we arrived! Blaring -bands and marching delegations seemed to render the hot -air even more stifling, and I asked at once to be shown to the -room where Governor Roosevelt was. A messenger was sent -with me, and up in the elevator and through circuitous passages -we went, to a corner room overlooking a square. We knocked, -but there was no answer, and I softly opened the door, and there -sat my brother Theodore at a distant window with a huge -volume upon his knees. The soft air was blowing in the window, -his back was turned to the door, and he was as absolutely detached -as if vice-presidential nominations, political warfare, -illicit and corrupt methods of all kinds in public life were things -not known to his philosophy. I tiptoed up behind him and leaned -over his shoulder, and saw that the great volume spread out -before him was the “History of Josephus”! I could not but -laugh aloud, for it seemed too quaint to think that he, the centre -of all the political animosity, should be quietly apart, perfectly -absorbed in the history of the Jews of a long-past day. As I -laughed, he turned and jumped to his feet, and in a moment -Josephus was as much a thing of the past as he actually was, -and Theodore Roosevelt, the loving brother, the humorous -philosopher, the acute politician, was once more in the saddle. -In a moment, in a masterly manner, he had sketched the -situation for me: ‘Yes, Platt and Odell did want to eject him, -that was true, but it wasn’t only that. The West felt strongly, -and the Middle West as strongly, that his name was needed on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197">197</a></span> -the presidential ticket. No, he didn’t want to give up a second -term as governor of New York State; he hated the thought of a -vice-presidential burial-party, but what was he to do? He -didn’t really know himself.’</p> - -<p>At that moment, without any ceremony, the door was thrown -open, and in marched the delegation from Kansas. Fife and -drum and bugle headed the delegation with more than discordant -noises. Round and round the room they went, monotonously -singing to the accompaniment of the above raucous instruments: -“We want Teddy, we want Teddy, we want Teddy.” -My brother held up his hand, but nothing seemed to stop them. -Over and over again they filed solemnly around that sitting-room, -and finally, forming in a straight line, they metaphorically -presented arms, and stood for a moment silently before him. -He stepped nearer to them and, with a somewhat anxious tone -in his voice, said: “Gentlemen of Kansas, I know that you only -want what is best for the country, and incidentally what you -think is best for me; but, my friends, I wish you would withdraw -your desire that I should be the candidate for the vice-presidency. -I <em>want</em> another term as governor of New York -State. I have initiated a good many reforms that I think -would help my native state. I have made many appointments, -and the people I have appointed would feel that I have -gone back on them if I can’t be there to help them with their -work. I am sure I could be of more use to my country as governor -of New York State than as vice-president. I wish you -would change your minds and help me to do the thing which I -think is the best thing to do.” The delegation from Kansas -looked the pleader gently but firmly in the eye. The fife and -drum and bugle struck up its monotonous sound again. The -leader of the Kansas delegation turned, and, with all his followers, -once more they marched slowly and steadfastly around -that room, making no answer to Governor Roosevelt except the -indomitable refrain of “We want Teddy, we want Teddy, we -want Teddy,” which sounded for a long while down the corridor.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198">198</a></span> -As we listened to their retreating footsteps, he turned to me -with a look of mingled amusement and despair in his eyes, and -said: “What can I do with such people? But aren’t they good -fellows!”</p> - -<p>And so, as is now well known to history, the Kansas delegation -and other like delegations had their way. Mr. Platt and -Mr. Odell thought <em>they</em> had <em>their</em> way too, and at one of the most -exciting conventions at which I have ever been present—dominated -in masterful fashion by the unique personality of Mark -Hanna—Theodore Roosevelt was made the nominee for the -second place on the ticket of the Republican party of 1900. -One little incident occurred the next morning which I have -always felt had a certain prophetic quality about it. An article -appeared in one of the Philadelphia papers, signed by that -inimitable humorist, the brilliant philosopher, Peter Dunne, -alias “Mr. Dooley.” I wish I could find the article—I kept it -for a long while—but this is about the way it ran:</p> - -<p>“Tiddy Rosenfeldt came to the Convintion in his Rough Rider -suit and his sombrero hat and his khaki clothes, trying to look -as inconspichuous as possible, and as soon as he got there Platt -fill on his chist and Odell sat on his stummick and they tried -to crush him and squeeze the life out of him. And they <em>think</em> -they have done it, and perhaps they have, but, Hinnessey, they -needn’t be quite so sure, for Tiddy Rosenfeldt will get somewhere -no matter what happens, <em>even though the path lies through -the cimitery!</em>”</p> - -<p>Whether “Mr. Dooley” simply meant that as vice-presidents -had always been supposed to be dead men as far as future -preferment was concerned, or whether, with prophetic touch, he -visualized the horror that was to come, and the way in which -Theodore Roosevelt’s path to a higher position actually did lie -“through the cemetery,” I know not, but those were approximately -the very words which appeared in that Philadelphia -newspaper the morning after Roosevelt was nominated as candidate -for vice-president on the McKinley ticket.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199">199</a></span> -Later in the autumn he started on one of the most strenuous -campaigns of his life, and swung around the country asking -for Republican support for William McKinley’s second term. -Just before Election day he was to return to New York to -make his final address at Madison Square Garden. As usual, -he was to spend the night before and the night of the meeting -at my house. Just before he was to arrive I received a -telegram saying that his voice was entirely gone from the strain -of weeks of speaking, and would I please have a throat doctor -at the house on his arrival to treat his throat. Of course I arranged -that this should be done, and he arrived, bright and gay, -although distinctly hoarse. The doctor treated him, and he -was ordered to keep perfectly still during the evening. We -went up to the library after dinner, and I said to him: “Now, -Theodore, we must only have a few minutes’ talk, and then you -must go to bed.” “But,” he said, “I must tell you a few of -the very funny incidents that happened on my trip.” And with -that he began—my husband and I feeling very conscience-stricken, -but so fascinated that we had not the strength of mind -to stop him. Suddenly, to our perfect surprise, the early morning -light crept in through the windows, the milk-wagons began -to rattle in the streets, and we realized that the dawn of another -day had come, and that the future vice-president had outraged -his doctor’s orders and had talked all night long! And -such stories as they were, too; I shall never forget them. One -after another, he pictured to us the various audiences, the wonderful -receptions, the unique chairmen of the different meetings. -There was always a “bellowing” chairman, as he expressed it, -or else one whose ineffectual voice did not reach even the first -circle of the huge audiences that gathered everywhere to hear -him. Out in the Far West eight-horse vehicles would meet -the trains on which the nominees travelled, and inadvertent -bands would blow in the ears of “shotgun” teams that had never -been hitched up before, with such astounding results as the complete -loss of the whole team at once, which necessitated the dragging<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200">200</a></span> -of the carriage by ardent cowboy admirers, or, worse luck, -eventuated in terrifying runaways, which, however, never seemed -to produce anything but casual discomfort.</p> - -<p>Mr. Curtis Guild, of Boston, and Judge John Proctor Clarke -accompanied Governor Roosevelt on this trip, and on one occasion -the aforesaid “bellowing” chairman introduced my brother -as “one whose name was known from shore to shore and whose -life story was part of every fireside, and whose deeds were household -words from the Atlantic to the Pacific.” Finding that this -introduction was greeted with vociferous applause, he then made -use of the same extravagant exaggeration in introducing Mr. -Guild. The only trouble in the latter case was that, after stertorously -repeating the aforesaid introduction, the chairman -suddenly forgot the name of the second speaker, “so well known -from the Atlantic to the Pacific,” and turned with solemn disapproval -to the refined New England statesman, whispering -hoarsely: “What in h— is your name, anyway?”</p> - -<p>Such were the tales with which he regaled us that too-short -night in November, 1900. Any other man, having so disobeyed -the doctor’s stern commands to refrain from using his voice, -would have been punished the following evening by not having -any voice at all; but, on the contrary, his tones were clear and -strong, his personality vital and inspiring, as he leaned from the -platform toward the thousands of cheering human beings in the -great Madison Square Garden, to put the finishing touch on that -stirring campaign for the second nomination of McKinley.</p> - -<p>The inauguration in Washington, in March, 1901, had a -peculiar charm about it. Perhaps one felt this charm especially -because of the youth of the Vice-President and of his wife, and -because of the contrast between those two happy young people -and the more serious President, weighed down as he was with -many cares, the greatest of which was his loving anxiety for his -fragile little wife.</p> - -<p>Because we were the sisters of the Vice-President, Mrs. McKinley -sent for my sister, Mrs. Cowles, and me just after the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201">201</a></span> -inauguration, and I remember very well the touching quality -of that dainty personality, in whose faded face was the remains -of exquisite beauty. She received us up-stairs in her bedroom, -and by her side was a table on which was a little Austrian vase -in which bloomed one superb red rose. As we sat down she -pointed to the rose with her delicate little hand, and said softly: -“My dearest love brought me that rose. He always brings me -a rose every day, Mrs. Robinson.” And then, a faint smile flitting -over her face, she said: “My dearest love is very good to -me. Every evening he plays eight or ten games of cribbage -with me, and I think he sometimes <em>lets</em> me win.” I remember -the feeling in my heart when she spoke those words, as I thought -of the man in the White House, oppressed with many cares; -even, perhaps, at the time when the shadow of the war with -Spain hung over his troubled head, sitting down with gentle -affection and quiet self-control to play “eight or ten games of -cribbage,” “one for his nob, and two for his heels,” with the -pathetic little creature from whom the tender love of his early -youth had never swerved.</p> - -<p>The scenes outside of the White House connected with the -young Vice-President were very different. In the home of my -sister, Mrs. Cowles, where we all stayed for the inauguration, -quaint happenings occurred. A certain Captain ——, a great -admirer of my brother, telegraphed that he was sending from -Thorley’s florist shop in New York a “floral tribute” to be -erected wherever the Vice-President was staying. My sister’s -house was moderate in size, but that made no difference to Captain -——. That “floral tribute” had to be erected. It cost, -if I remember rightly, in the neighborhood of three thousand -dollars. (My brother laughingly but pathetically said it was -about half of his income at the time, and he wished the tribute -could have been added to the income.) It had to be erected, -and erected it was. It arrived in long boxes, painfully suggestive -of coffins, much to the delight of the young members of the -family, who were also staying with my always hospitable sister.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202">202</a></span> -There, for a whole day, three men worked haggardly -building the “tribute,” until the whole front room of my sister’s -house (which was much in demand for large numbers of -delegations who wished to pay their respects to my brother) -was filled in every nook and cranny by this enormous and marvellous -structure, which reached from wall to wall and up to the -ceiling. The overworked and tired men who created it were so -exhausted by the questions of the small members of the Roosevelt -and Robinson family that toward the end of the afternoon -they sent word to Mrs. Cowles that unless those children were -sent out of the house, that “tribute” would never be finished. -Finished it was, however, and we were almost suffocated by the -sweetness of its scents, and it was all that we could do, in spite -of our spontaneous gaiety, to rise above the semifunereal feeling -that this mass of conventional flowers produced upon the atmosphere -of the whole house.</p> - -<p>The inaugural ball was really a charming sight, but was -shadowed for the presidential party by the fact that Mrs. McKinley -was not well a short while before it took place. She was -able to be present, however, in her box, but the shade of sadness -was heavy on the President’s face; and the people, for that very -reason, turned with peculiar pleasure to the care-free younger -couple, who were asked to come down from the box, and to walk -in stately fashion once around the room, to the infinite admiration -of the many interested observers.</p> - -<p>After the inauguration my brother retired quietly to Oyster -Bay, and it was from there on April 15, 1901, that he wrote me -one of his most characteristic notes. At that time, as in the -days of his governorship, he would frequently notify his friends -to meet him and lunch with him at my house, much to my delight. -On this particular occasion, he had invited so incongruous -an assortment of people that he decided that one or two -more equally incongruous would be advisable, and writes -as follows: “Darling Corinne: Inasmuch as we are to have -Cocky Locky, Henny Penny and Goosey Poosey at lunch,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203">203</a></span> -why omit Foxy Loxy? I am anxious to see Dr. R—— and I -do hope you will ask him to lunch on Thursday also. Ever -yours, T. R.”</p> - -<p>That lunch-party proved to be a great success, as did various -others later; and then came a moment, for me, of serious anxiety -when my eldest boy was stricken with diphtheria in college. At -once many loving letters came from Oyster Bay—and later, when -the young freshman had recovered from his illness, and I was -at my home on Orange Mountain, the newly inaugurated Vice-President -acceded to my wish that he should come to my home, -where my husband and I had lived all our young married life, -and be the hero and excitement of the neighborhood at a reception -on my lawn. It proved a hot day in July, but his pleasure -in meeting all my friends was unabated, and he took special -interest in my butcher and grocer and fish man and ice man, -and the kindly farming people who had been devoted to my -husband’s mother as well as to me for many years. At the end -of the day he resuscitated with tender care an old veteran of -the Civil War, who had stumbled up the hill in the blinding heat -to pay his respects to the colonel of the Rough Riders, now Vice-President -of the United States.</p> - -<p>That same summer he engineered a sailing trip for his little -boys and mine, and writes me in answer to a request from me to -know how much I owed for the trip: “About $12 would cover -completely your boys’ share of the expenses. It is just like you -to want to pay it, but I would like to feel that for this trivial -matter your two boys were my guests. So if you don’t mind, -I am going to ask you to <em>sacrifice</em> your feelings. As I have told -you the extent of the obligation, and it is surely <em>not</em> heavy, let -me continue to stand as the munificent host!”</p> - -<p>Once that summer during his “month’s rest,” of which I -have already spoken at the beginning of this chapter, I spent -a night at Sagamore Hill, and my sister-in-law, Mrs. Roosevelt, -said to me that she was anxious about my brother. The “rest” -did not quite agree with him, and the prospect of a more or less<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204">204</a></span> -sedentary life in his new position weighed on the active initiative -of his mind.</p> - -<p>A little later they went to a hunting-lodge in the Adirondacks, -and all the world knows what happened on September 6, 1901. -Then came the great anxiety as to whether Mr. McKinley would -recover from the assassin’s onslaught, and on September 14, he -succumbed to the weakness engendered by his wound. While -the dramatic drive from the Adirondack Mountains, where Theodore -Roosevelt was found, was in process, I, the only member -of the Roosevelt family near New York, was inundated in my -Orange Mountain home by reporters. That evening after receiving -a number of reporters and giving them what slight information -I could give, I said that I could not stand the strain -any longer, that I could not be interviewed any more, and with -the dear cousin, John Elliott, who had been our early childhood -companion, and who happened to be visiting me, I went into -my writing-room, shut the door to the world outside, and a -strange coincidence occurred. My sister-in-law, Mrs. Theodore -Roosevelt, had shortly before returned to me a number of childhood -letters which we had exchanged, first as little children, -and then as growing girls, for we had always been very intimate -friends. These letters were in a box on my writing-table, and -I said to my cousin John: “Let us forget all these terrible things -that are happening, and for a moment, at least, go back into -our merry, care-free past. Here are these letters. I am going -to pick one out at random and see how it will remind us of our -childhood days.”</p> - -<p>So speaking, I put my hand into the box and proceeded to -draw out a letter. Curiously enough, as I opened the yellow -envelope and the sheets fell from it, I saw that it was dated -from Washington in 1877, and looking more closely I read aloud -the words:</p> - -<p>“Dearest Corinne: Today, for the first time, I went to the -White House. Oh, how much I wished for you. It seemed so -wonderful to me to be in the old mansion which had been the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205">205</a></span> -home of President Lincoln, and which is so connected with all -our country’s history. It gave me a feeling of awe and excitement. -I wish you could have been here to share the feeling with -me, for I don’t suppose it is likely that we shall ever be in the -White House together, and it would have been so interesting -to have exchanged our memories of things that had happened -in that wonderful old house. But how unlikely it is that you -or I shall ever come in contact with anything connected with -the White House.”</p> - -<p>As I read these words, I exclaimed with astonishment, for it -did seem a curious freak of fate that almost at the very moment -that I was reading the lines penned by the girl of fifteen, an unexpected -turn of the wheel had made that same young girl the -lady of the White House.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206">206</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="XI"></a>XI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HOME LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE</span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container b2"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Uncrowned the brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where truth and courage meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The citizen alone confronts the land.<br /></span> -</div> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A man whose dreamful, valiant mind conceives<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High purpose, consecrated to his race.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Margaret Ridgely Partridge. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> deed of the cowardly assassin had done its work. William -McKinley was dead; the young Vice-President had -made the hazardous trip from the heart of the Adirondack -Mountains, had taken the solemn oath in Buffalo, had -followed the body of his chief to the final resting-place, and had -returned to Washington. From Washington he telegraphed -to my husband and myself, with the thought which he always -showed, and told us that as Mrs. Roosevelt was attending to -last important matters at Sagamore, she could not be with him -the day he moved into the White House, and that he was very -anxious that not only my sister, Mrs. Cowles, and her husband, -but that we also should dine with him the first night that he -slept in the old mansion. So we went on to Washington, and -were with him at that first meal in the house for which he had -such romantic attachment because it had sheltered the hero -of his boyhood and manhood, Abraham Lincoln. As we sat -around the table he turned and said: “Do you realize that this -is the birthday of our father, September 22? I have realized it -as I signed various papers all day long, and I feel that it is a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207">207</a></span> -good omen that I begin my duties in this house on this day. I -feel as if my father’s hand were on my shoulder, and as if there -were a special blessing over the life I am to lead here.” Almost -as he finished this sentence, the coffee was passed to us, and at -that time it was the habit at the White House to pass with the -coffee a little boutonnière to each gentleman. As the flowers -were passed to the President, the one given to him was a yellow -saffronia rose. His face flushed, and he turned again and said: -“Is it not strange! This is the rose we all connect with my -father.” My sister and I responded eagerly that many a time -in the past we had seen our father pruning the rose-bush of -saffronia roses with special care. He always picked one for his -buttonhole from that bush, and whenever we gave him a rose, -we gave him one of those. Again my brother said, with a very -serious look on his face, “I think there is a blessing connected -with this,” and surely it did seem as if there were a blessing connected -with those years of Theodore Roosevelt in the White -House; those merry happy years of family life, those ardent, -loving years of public service, those splendid, peaceful years of -international amity—a blessing there surely was over that house.</p> - -<p>Nothing could have been harder to the temperament of Theodore -Roosevelt than to have come “through the cemetery,” as -Peter Dunne said in his prophetic article, to the high position -of President of the United States. What he had achieved in the -past was absolutely through his own merits. To him to come -to any position through “dead men’s shoes” was peculiarly -distasteful; but during the early years of his occupancy of the -White House, feeling it his duty so to do, he strove in every possible -way to fulfil the policies of his predecessor, retaining his -appointees and working with conscientious loyalty as much as -possible along the lines laid down by President McKinley.</p> - -<p>That first winter of his incumbency was one of special interest. -Many were the difficulties in his path. England, and, indeed, -all foreign countries were watching him with deep interest. -I realized that fact in a very special way as that very spring of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208">208</a></span> -1902 I took my young daughter abroad to place her at a French -school directed by Mademoiselle Souvestre in England. It was -the spring when preparations were being made for the coronation -of King Edward VII, and because of the fact that I was -the sister of the President of the United States, I was received -with great courtesy. Our dear friend Mr. Joseph H. Choate -was then ambassador to England. Mrs. Choate presented me -at court, and the King paid me the unusual compliment—out -of respect to my brother—of leaving the dais on which he and -the Queen stood, and came forward to greet me personally in -order to ask for news of my brother. Special consideration -was shown to me in so many ways that when Mr. Robinson and -I were visiting Edinburgh, it seemed in no way unusual that we -should be invited to Holyrood Castle to the reception given by -the lord high commissioner, Lord Leven and Melville. It so -happened that we were in Edinburgh during that week of festivity -when the lord high commissioner of Scotland, appointed -as special representative of the King of Great Britain, holds court -in the old castle as though he were actually the King.</p> - -<p>We had dined with friends before the reception, and were -therefore late in reaching the castle, and were literally the last -people at the end of the long queue approaching the dais on -which Lord and Lady Leven and Melville stood. As King Edward -had himself stepped forward to meet me in Buckingham -Palace, I was not surprised when Lord Leven and Melville -stepped down from the dais, and I expected him also to ask news -of my brother, the President of the United States, as King Edward -had done, but to my great surprise, and be it confessed -intense pleasure, I heard the lord high commissioner speak as -follows: “Mrs. Douglas Robinson, you have been greeted with -special courtesy in our country because of your distinguished -brother, the President of the United States, but I am greeting -you with even greater interest because of your father, the first -Theodore Roosevelt. You probably do not remember, for you -were a little girl at the time, that a raw-boned young Scotchman<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209">209</a></span> -named Ronald Leslie Melville came long ago to New York -and was much at your home, having had letters of introduction -to your father as one of the men best fitted to teach him the -modern philanthropic methods used in America. Only to-day,” -he continued, “I told the children of Edinburgh, assembled, -as is the custom, to listen to the lord high commissioner, that -the father of the present President of the United States was the -first man who taught me to <em>love</em> my fellow men.”</p> - -<p>My heart was very full as I made my courtesy and answered -the lord high commissioner. Before he let me pass on he said, -with a charming smile: “If you and Mr. Robinson will come tomorrow -to lunch with us quietly I will take you to Lord Darnley’s -room, which is my dressing-room during the week of Holyrood -festivities, and on my dressing-table you will see the photograph -of your father, for I never go anywhere without it.” I -accepted the invitation gladly, and the next day we went to -Holyrood Castle, lunched informally with the delightful chatelain -and chatelaine, and I was taken, as the former promised, to see -Lord Damley’s room, where my father’s face smiled at me from -the dressing-table. My brother loved to hear me tell this story, -and I feel that it is not amiss to include it in any recollections -concerning my brother, for he was truly the spirit of my father -reincarnate.</p> - -<p>In May, 1902, Mrs. Roosevelt writes that “Theodore” is -just about to leave for a hunting trip, which she hopes will “rest” -him. (The rest the year before, of writing a life of Oliver Cromwell, -had not been made quite strenuous enough for a real rest!) -Later he returned and made a famous speech in Providence, a -speech epoch-making, and recognized as such by an English -newspaper, <cite>The Morning Post</cite> of August 27, 1902, a clipping -from which I have at hand, and which runs as follows:</p> - -<p>“Our New York correspondent announced yesterday that -President Roosevelt’s great speech at Providence on the subject -of ‘Trusts’ is regarded on all sides and by both parties as -an absolutely epoch-making event. This is not surprising to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210">210</a></span> -those who have studied the conditions of American politics, -and the merits of the particular economic question involved, -so far as they are intelligible to us, or last but by no means least, -the character and personality of President Roosevelt. It would -now seem that the people of the United States are at the parting -of the ways between the corrupt, old political system and a newer, -manlier, honester conception of public rights and duties.”</p> - -<p>Perhaps this sentence foreshadows more than any other -contemporary expression the enormous instrument for honesty -in high places in the history of his country which it was Theodore -Roosevelt’s destiny to be.</p> - -<p>Mingled with these great cares and far-reaching issues came, -later, brighter moments, and it was about that time that during -an interval of play at Oyster Bay, he started the custom of his -famous “obstacle walks.” He would gather all the little cousins -and his own children and mine, if I could bring them down for -a week-end, on Sunday afternoon at Sagamore Hill (even an -occasional “grown person” was considered sufficiently adventurous -to be included in the party), and would start on one of -the strenuous scrambles which he called an “obstacle walk.” -It was more like a game than a walk, for it had rules and regulations -of its own, the principal one being that each participant -should follow the presidential leader “over or through” any -obstacle but never “around.” There were sometimes as many -as twenty little children as we stood on the top of Cooper’s Bluff, -a high sand-bank overlooking the Sound, ready for the word -“go,” and all of them children were agog with excitement at the -probable obstacles in their path. As we stood on the brink of -the big sand-bank, my brother would turn with an amused -twinkle in his eye and say: “There is a little path down the side, -but I always jump off the top.” This, needless to say, was in -the form of a challenge, which he always accompanied by a laugh -and a leap into the air, landing on whatever portion of his body -happened to be the one that struck the lower part of the sand-bank -first. Then there would be a shout from the children, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211">211</a></span> -every one would imitate his method of progress, I myself, generally -the only other grown person, bringing up the rear rather -reluctantly but determined not to have to follow the other important -rule of the game, which was that if you could not succeed -in going “over or through” that you should put your metaphorical -tail between your physical legs and return home. You were -not jeered at, no disagreeable remark was directed at you, but -your sense of failure was humiliation enough.</p> - -<p>Having reached the foot of the bank in this promiscuous -fashion, we would all sit on stones and take off our shoes and -stockings to shake the quantities of sand therefrom, and then -start on the real business of the day. With a sense of great excitement -we watched our leader and the devious course he pursued -while finding the most trying obstacles to test our courage. -I remember one day seeing in our path an especially -unpleasant-looking little bathing-house with a very steep roof -like a Swiss chalet. I looked at it with sudden dismay, for I -realized that only the very young and slender could chin up its -slippery sides, and I hoped that the leader of the party would -deflect his course. Needless to say, he did not, and I can still see -the somewhat sturdy body of the then President of the United -States hurling itself at the obstruction and with singular agility -chinning himself to the top and sliding down on the other side. -The children stormed it with whoops of delight, but I thought -I had come to my Waterloo. Just as I had decided that the moment -had come for that ignominious retreat of which I have -already spoken, I happened to notice a large rusty nail on one -side of the unfinished shanty, and I thought to myself: “If I -<em>can</em> get a footing on that nail, then perhaps I <em>can</em> get my hands -to the top of that sloping roof, and if I <em>can</em> get my hands there, -perhaps by Herculean efforts I too can chin myself over the -other side.” Nothing succeeds like success, for having performed -this almost impossible feat and having violently returned into -the midst of my anxious group of fellow pedestrians, very much -as the little boy does on his sled on the steepest snow-clad hill,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212">212</a></span> -I was greeted with an ovation such as I have never received in -later life for the most difficult achievement, literary or philanthropic! -From that moment I was regarded as one really -fit to take part in the beloved “obstacle walks,” which were, I -cannot help but think, strong factors in planting in the hearts -and characters of the children who thus followed their leader, the -indomitable pluck and determination which helped the gallant -sons and nephews of Theodore Roosevelt to go undauntedly -“over the top” on Flanders Field.</p> - -<p>“Over or through, never around”—a good motto, indeed, -for Young America, and one which was always exemplified by -that American of Americans, my brother, Theodore Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>At the end of October that year, his affectionate concern -for me (for I was delicate at the time) takes form in a lovely letter -in which, after giving me the best of advice, and acknowledging -humorously that no one ever really took advice offered, he -says: “Heaven bless you always whether you take my advice -or not.” He never failed to show loving and tender interest in -the smallest of my pleasures or anxieties, nor did he and Mrs. -Roosevelt ever fail to invite, at my instigation, elderly family -friends to lunch at the White House, or gladly to send me autographs -for many little boys, or checks to “Dolly,” the nurse of -his childhood, whose advanced years I superintended.</p> - -<p>In April, 1903, he started on a long trip, and at that time felt -that, as the years of his inherited incumbency were drawing -to a close, he could forward his own gospel. A humorous reference -comes in a letter just before he starts, in which he says: -“I was immensely amused with Monroe’s message [my second -son, then at St. Paul’s School] about boxing and confirmation, -the one evidently having some occult connection with the other -in his mind. Give him my love when you write.... Well, -I start on a nine-weeks’ trip tomorrow, as hard a trip as I have -ever undertaken, with the sole exception of the canvass in 1900. -As a whole, it will be a terrific strain, but there will be an occasional -day which I shall enjoy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213">213</a></span> -Again, as he actually starts on that “hard” trip, he sends me -a little line of never-failing love. “White House, April 1, 1903. -[This in his own writing.] Darling Pussie: Just a last line of -Good-bye. I am so glad your poor hand is better at last. Love -to dear old Douglas. The house seems strange and lonely without -the children. Ever yours, T. R.” Those little notes in -his own dear handwriting, showing always the loving thought, -are especially precious and treasured.</p> - -<p>After that exhausting journey, replete with many thrilling -experiences, he returns to Oyster Bay for a little rest, and writes -with equal interest of the beautiful family life which was always -led there. My boy Stewart was with him at the time, and he -speaks of him affectionately in connection with his own “Ted,” -who was Stewart’s intimate friend:</p> - -<p>“Stewart, Ted and I took an hour and a half bareback ride -all together. Ted is always longing that Stewart should go off -on a hunting trip with him. I should be delighted to have them -go off now. Although I think no doubt they would get <em>into</em> -scrapes, I have also no doubt that they would get <em>out of</em> them. -We have had a lovely summer, as lovely a summer as we have -ever passed. All the children have enjoyed their various activities, -and we have been a great deal with the children, and in -addition to that, Edith and I have ridden on horseback much -together, and have frequently gone off for a day at a time in a -little row boat, not to speak of the picnics to which everybody -went.</p> - -<p>“In the intervals I have chopped industriously. I have seen -a great many people who came to call upon me on political business. -I have had to handle my correspondence of course, and -I have had not a few wearing matters of national policy, ranging -from the difficulties in Turkey to the scandals in the Post Office. -But I have had three months of rest, of holiday, by comparison -with what has gone before. Next Monday I go back to Washington, -and for the thirteen months following, there will be -mighty little let-up to the strain. But I enjoy it to the full.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214">214</a></span> -“What the outcome will be as far as I am personally concerned, -I do not know. It looks as if I would be renominated; -whether I shall be re-elected I haven’t the slightest idea. I know -there is bitter opposition to me from many sources. Whether -I shall have enough support to overcome this opposition, I cannot -tell. I suppose few Presidents can form the slightest idea whether -their policies have met with approval or not. Certainly <em>I</em> cannot. -But as far as I can see, these policies have been right, and -I hope that time will justify them. If it doesn’t why I must -abide the fall of the dice, and that is all there is to it. Ever yours, -T. R.”</p> - -<p>That letter is very characteristic of his usual attitude. Strain, -yes; hard work, yes; but equally “I enjoy it to the full”! -Equally also was he willing to abide by the “fall of the dice,” -having done what he fully believed to have been the right thing -for the country.</p> - -<p>That December, the day after Christmas, he writes -again:</p> - -<p>“Darling Sister: I so enjoyed seeing you here, but I have -been so worried about you. I am now looking forward to Stewart’s -coming, and to seeing Helen and Ted. But I do wish you -would take a rest.</p> - -<p>“We had a delightful Christmas yesterday, just such a Christmas -as thirty or forty years ago we used to have under Father’s -and Mother’s supervision in 28 East 20th Street. At seven all -the children came in to open the big, bulging stockings in our -bed; Kermit’s terrier, Allan, a most friendly little dog, adding -to the children’s delight by occupying the middle of the bed. -From Alice to Quentin, each child was absorbed in his or her -stocking, and Edith certainly managed to get the most wonderful -stocking toys.... Then after breakfast we all went -into the library, where the bigger toys were on separate tables -for the children. I wonder whether there ever can come in life -a thrill of greater exaltation and rapture than that which comes -to one, say between the ages of six and fourteen, when the library<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215">215</a></span> -doors are thrown open and one walks in to see all the gifts, like -a materialized fairyland, arrayed on one’s own special table.</p> - -<p>“We had a most pleasant lunch at Bamie’s [our sister, Mrs. -Cowles]. She had given a delightful Christmas tree to the children -the afternoon before, and then I stopped in to see Cabot -and Nannie [Senator and Mrs. Lodge]. It was raining so hard -that we could not walk or ride with any comfort, so Roly Fortescue, -Ted and I played ‘single stick’ in the study later. All -of our connections and all of the Lodge connections were at dinner -with us, twenty-two in all. After the dinner we danced in the -‘East Room,’ closing with the Virginia Reel,—Edith looking -as young and as pretty, and dancing as well as ever.</p> - -<p>“It is a clear, cold morning, and Edith and I and all the children -(save Quentin) and also Bob Ferguson and Cabot are about -to start for a ride. Your loving brother.”</p> - -<p>Such were all Christmases at the White House; such was -the spirit of the White House in those days.</p> - -<p>During the early years of my brothers presidency, my husband -and I always spent Thanksgiving at the White House, -and joined in festivities very much like the Christmas ones, -including the gay Virginia reel, which was also part, always, of -the Thanksgiving ceremony. After they bought a little place -in Virginia, they spent their Thanksgiving anniversary there.</p> - -<p>During the following winter, I visited the White House more -frequently than usual, and enjoyed the special ceremonies such -as the diplomatic dinner, judicial reception, etc., and I used -to station myself near the President when he was receiving the -long line of eager fellow citizens, and watch his method of welcoming -his guests. Almost always he would have some special -word for each, and although the long line would not be held -back, for he was so rapid in speech that the individual welcome -would hardly take a moment, still almost every person who -passed him would have had that extraordinary sense that he -or she was personally recognized. It was either a reference to -the splendid old veteran father of one, or some devoted sacrifice<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216">216</a></span> -on the part of the mother of another, or a deed of valor of the -person himself, or a merry reminiscence of hunting or Rough Rider -warfare; but with each and every person who passed -in what seemed occasionally an interminable line, there was -immediately established a personal sense of relationship. Perhaps -that was, of all my brother’s attributes, the most endearing, -namely, that power of his of injecting himself into the life -of the other person and of making that other person realize that -he was not just an indifferent lump of humanity, but a living -and breathing individual coming in contact with another individual -even more vividly alive.</p> - -<p>After my own visit of special festivity I apparently suggest -certain people for him to ask to the White House, or at least I -ask him to see them, for in a letter, also in his own handwriting, -on February 21, 1904, he says: “Thank you for suggesting -F. W. I am glad you told me; it was thoughtful of you. I will -also try to see B——, but I don’t know whether it will do any -good. He is a kind, upright, typical bourgeois of the purely -mercantile type; and however much we respect each other, we -live in widely different and sundered worlds.” So characteristic, -this last sentence. Willing he always was to try to do what I -wished or thought wise, but also he was always frank in giving -me the reason why he felt my wish, in some cases, would bear -but little fruit. The bourgeois, mercantile type did indeed live -in a different and sundered world from that of the practical -idealist, Theodore Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>In the summer of 1904, when again I was far from well, he -writes from the White House, August 14: “Darling Corinne: -The news in your letter greatly worried me. I wish I could call -to see you and try to amuse you. I think of you always. Let -me know at once, or have Douglas let me know, how you are. -Edith came back here for a week with me, and we had a real -honeymoon time together. Then she went back to the children.... -Every spare moment has been occupied with preparing -my letter of acceptance. No one can tell how the election<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217">217</a></span> -will turn out; but I am more than content, whatever comes, -for I have been able to do much that was worth doing. With -love to Douglas and very, very much love to you, I am, Your -devoted Brother.” In the midst of the pressing cares of the -administration and the fatigue of his letter of acceptance he -still has time for the usual unfailing interest in me and mine!</p> - -<p>On October 18, again my brother writes:</p> - -<p>“Of course, I am excited about the election, but there really -isn’t much I can do about it, and I confine myself chiefly to the -regular presidential work. Nobody can tell anything about the -outcome. At the present time, it looks rather favorable to me.” -And again to my husband on October 25: “As for the result, -the Lord only knows what it will be. Appearances look favorable, -but I have a mind steeled for any outcome!”</p> - -<p>In spite of his “mind steeled for any outcome,” the one great -ambition of Theodore Roosevelt’s life was to be chosen President -on his own merits by the people of the United States. He -longed for the seal of approval on the devoted service which he -had rendered to his country, and one of my clearest memories -is my conversation with him on Election day, 1904, when on his -way back from voting at Oyster Bay, I met him at Newark, -N. J., and went with him as far as Philadelphia. In his private -drawing-room on the car, he opened his heart to me, and told -me that he had never wanted anything in his life quite as much -as the outward and visible sign of his country’s approval of what -he had done during the last three and a half years. I frankly -do not feel that this wish was because of any overweening ambition -on his part, but to the nature of Theodore Roosevelt -it had always been especially difficult to have come into the -great position which he held through a calamity to another -rather than as the personal choice of the people of the United -States. His temperament was such that he wished no favor -which he had not himself won. Therefore, it seemed to him a -crucial moment in his life when, on his own merit, he was to be -judged as fit or unfit to be his own successor. Not only for those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218">218</a></span> -reasons did he wish to be elected in his own right, but because, -as was the case in former days when he wished to be renominated -governor of New York State, he had again initiated many reforms, -and had made many appointments, and he wished to -carry those reforms into effect and to back up those appointments -with his own helpfulness and prestige.</p> - -<p>When we parted in Philadelphia, I to return to my home in -Orange and he to go on to meet this vital moment of his career, -I remember feeling a poignant anxiety about the result of the -election, and it can well be understood the joy I felt that evening -when the returns proved him overwhelmingly successful at -the polls. Late at night, we received a telegram from the White -House directed to Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Robinson in answer -to our wire sent earlier in the evening. It ran as follows: “Was -glad to hear from you. Only wish you were with us this evening.” -The next morning I received a letter, only a few lines but infinitely -characteristic. They were penned by my brother upon -his arrival at the White House after we had parted in Philadelphia, -some hours before he knew anything of the election -returns. In this letter he describes his sudden reaction from -the condition of nervous excitement from which he had suffered -during the day. He says: “As I mounted the White House -steps, Edith came to meet me at the door, and I suddenly -realized that, after all, no matter what the outcome of the -election should prove to be; my <em>happiness</em> was assured, even -though my ambition to have the seal of approval put upon my -administration might not be gratified,—for my life with Edith -and my children constitutes my <em>happiness</em>.” This little note -posted to me on the eve of his great victory showed clearly his -sense of proportion and his conception of true values.</p> - -<p>On November 11, 1904, he writes again: “Darling Corinne: -I received your letter. I have literally but one moment in which -to respond, for I am swamped with letters and telegrams. We -have received between eight and ten thousand. I look forward -with keen eagerness to seeing you and Douglas.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219">219</a></span> -And so the crucial moment was over, and by a greater majority -than had ever before been known in this country, the -man of destiny had come into his own, and Theodore Roosevelt, -acclaimed by all the people whom he had served so faithfully, -was, in his own right and through no sad misfortune, President -of the United States of America.</p> - -<p>Almost immediately after the excitement of the election, -namely, on November 12, 1904, my brother writes to my husband: -“If you and Corinne could come on with us to the St. -Louis Fair, it would be the greatest possible delight. Now, for -Heaven’s sake, don’t let anything interfere with both of your -coming.”</p> - -<p>Needless to say, we accepted the invitation joyfully, and -the trip to the St. Louis Fair was one of our most unique experiences. -Coming as it did almost immediately after the great -victory of his overwhelming election, wherever the train stopped -he received a tremendous ovation, and my memory of him during -the transit is equally one of cheering groups and swarming -delegations.</p> - -<p>In spite of the noise and general excitement, whenever he -had a spare moment of quiet, I noticed that he always returned -to his own special seat in a corner of the car, and became -at once completely absorbed in two large volumes which -were always ready on his chair for him. The rest of us would -read irrelevantly, perhaps, talk equally irrelevantly, and the -hours sped past; but my brother, when he was not actually -receiving delegations or making an occasional impromptu speech -at the rear end of the car to the patient, waiting groups who -longed to show him their devotion, would return in the most -detached and focussed manner to the books in which he absorbed -himself.</p> - -<p>Our two days at St. Louis were the type of days only led by -a presidential party at a fair. Before experiencing them I had -thought it would be rather “grand” to be a President’s sister, with -the aforesaid President when he opened a great fair. “Grand”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220">220</a></span> -it certainly was, but the exhaustion outbalanced the grandeur. -I ran steadily for forty-eight hours without one moment’s intermission. -My brother never seemed to walk at all, and my whole -memory of the St. Louis Fair is a perpetual jog-trot, only interrupted -by interminable receptions, presentations of gifts, lengthy -luncheons and lengthier evening banquets, and I literally remember -<em>no night</em> at all! Whether we never went to bed during -the time we were at the fair, or exactly what happened to the -nights after twelve o’clock, is more than I can say. At the end -of the time allotted for the fair, after the last long banquet, we -returned to our private car, and I can still see the way in which -my sister-in-law (she was not <em>born</em> a Roosevelt!) fell into her -stateroom. I was about to follow her example (it was midnight) -when my brother turned to me in the gayest possible manner -and said: “Not going to bed, are you!” “Well,” I replied, “I -<em>had thought</em> of it.” “But no,” he said; “I told my stenographer -this morning to rest all day, for I knew that I would need her -services to-night, and now she is perfectly rested.” I interrupted -him: “But, Theodore, you never told <em>me</em> to rest all day. I have -been following you all day—” He laughed, but firmly said: -“Sit right down here. You will be sorry if you go to bed. I -am going to do something that is very interesting. William -Rhodes has asked me to review his second and third volumes of -the ‘History of the United States.’ You may have noticed I -was reading those volumes on the way from Washington. I feel -just like doing it now. The stenographer is rested, and as for -you, it will do you a great deal of good, because you don’t know -as much as you should about American history.” Smilingly he -put me in a chair and began his dictation. Lord Morley is reported -to have said, after his visit to the United States, when -asked what he thought most interesting in our country: “There -are two <em>great</em> things in the United States: one is Niagara, the -other is Theodore Roosevelt.” As I think of my brother that -night, Lord Morley’s words come back to me, for it seemed as -if, for once, the two great things were combined in one. Such a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221">221</a></span> -Niagara as flowed from the lips of Theodore Roosevelt would -have surprised even the brilliant English statesman. He never -once referred to the books themselves, but he ran through the -whole gamut of their story, suggesting here, interpolating there, -courteously referring to some slight inaccuracy, taking up occasionally -almost a page of the matter (referring to the individual -page without ever glancing at the book), and finally, at -5 <span class="smcap">A. M.</span>, with a satisfied aspect, he turned to me and said: “That -is all about ‘Rhodes’s History.’”</p> - -<p>I rose feebly to my feet and said: “Good night, darling.” -But not at all—still gaily, as if he had just begun a day’s work, -instead of having reached the weary, littered end of twenty-four -hours, he said once more: “Don’t go to bed. I must do -one other piece of work, and I think you would be especially -interested in it. Peter Dunne—‘Dooley,’ you know—has sent -me an article of his on the Irish Question, and wants a review -on that from me. I am very fond of Dunne, and really feel I -should like to give him my opinions, as they do not entirely agree -with his in this particular article. I feel like doing this now. -Sit down again.” He never asked me to do anything with him -that I ever refused, were it in my power to assent to his suggestion. -How I rejoice to think that this was the case, and there -was no exception made to my usual rule at 5 <span class="smcap">A. M.</span> that November -morning. I sat down again, and sure enough, in a few moments -all fatigue seemed to vanish from me, as I listened with -eager interest to his masterly review of Peter Dunne’s opinions -on the Irish situation at that moment. It was a little late, or -perhaps one might say a little early, to begin so complicated a -subject as the Irish Question, and my final memories of his dictation -are confused with the fact that at about 7 <span class="smcap">A. M.</span> one of the -colored porters came in with coffee, and shortly after that I was -assisted to my berth in a more or less asphyxiated condition, -from which I never roused again until the train reached the station -at Washington. That was the way in which Theodore -Roosevelt did work. I have often thought that if some of us<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222">222</a></span> -always had the book at hand that we wanted to read, instead -of wasting time in looking for it, if we always had clearly in our -minds the extra job we wanted to do, and the tools at hand with -which to do it, we might accomplish in some small degree the -vast numbers of things he accomplished because of <em>preparedness</em>.</p> - -<p>As early as December 19, 1904, my sister-in-law wrote me: -“Theodore says that he wants you and Douglas under his roof -for the Inauguration.” I always felt a deep appreciation of the -fact that both my brother and his wife made us so welcome at -the most thrilling moments of their life in the White House.</p> - -<p>In January, 1905, he came to stay with me in New York -to speak at several dinners, and a most absurd and yet trying -incident occurred, an incident which he met with his usual -sunny and unselfish good humor. We had had a large luncheon -for him at my home, and when the time came for him to dress -in the evening for the dinner at which he was to speak, I suddenly -heard a call from the third story, a pitiful call: “I don’t -think I have my own dress coat.” I ran up-stairs, and sure -enough the coat laid out with his evening clothes, when he tried -to put it on, proved to be so tight across his broad shoulders -that whenever he moved his hands it rose unexpectedly almost -to his ears. I called my butler, who insisted that he had taken -the President’s coat with the rest of his clothes to brush, and -had brought it back again to his room. This, however, was untrue, -for the awful fact was soon divulged that the extra waiter -engaged for the luncheon, and who had already left the house, -had apparently confused the President’s coat, which was in the -basement to be pressed, with his own, and had taken away the -President’s coat! No one knew at this man’s house where he -had gone. There seemed no method of tracing the coat. We -dressed my brother in my husband’s coat, but that was even -worse, for my husband’s coat fell about him in folds, and there -seemed nothing for it but to send him to the large public dinner -with a coat that, unless most cleverly manipulated, continued -to rise unexpectedly above his head. No one but my brother<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223">223</a></span> -would have taken this catastrophe with unruffled gaiety, but -he started off apparently perfectly contented, rather than give -me a more dejected feeling than I already had about the misadventure. -I, myself, was to go later to the dinner to hear his -speech from one of the boxes, and I shall never forget my trepidation -when he began his address, as I saw the coat slowly rising -higher and higher. At the most critical moment, when it seemed -about to surmount his head, a messenger-boy, flurried and flushed -with exertion, ran upon the stage with a package in his hand. -The recalcitrant waiter had been found by my butler, and the -President’s coat had been torn from his back. Excusing himself -for a moment, with a laughing gesture which brought the -coat completely over his head he retired into the wings, changed -the article in question, and a few moments later brought down -the whole house by his humorous account of the reason for his -retirement.</p> - -<p>On March 3, 1905, as the guests of my cousin Emlen Roosevelt, -who took a special car for the occasion, the members of -my family, my husband, and myself started for the inauguration -of Theodore Roosevelt as President. Memories crowd -about me of those two or three days at the White House. The -atmosphere was one of great family gaiety, combined with an -underlying seriousness which showed the full realization felt -by my brother of the great duties which he was again to assume -this time as the choice of the people.</p> - -<p>What a day it was, that inaugural day! As usual, the personal -came so much into it. The night before, Mr. John Hay -sent him a ring with a part of the lock of Abraham Lincoln’s -hair which John Hay himself had cut from the dead President’s -forehead almost immediately after his assassination. I have -never known my brother to receive a gift for which he cared so -deeply. To wear that ring on the day of his own inauguration as -President of the United States, elected to the office by the free -will of the great American people, was to him, perhaps, the highest -fulfilment of his desires. The day dawned dark and threatening<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224">224</a></span> -and with snow filtering through the clouds, but occasionally -rifts of sunlight broke through the sombre bank of gray. The -ceremonies were fraught, to those of us who loved him so deeply, -with great solemnity. The Vice-President taking his oath in -the senate-chamber, the arrival there of the judges of the Supreme -Court, the glittering uniforms of the foreign ambassadors -and their suites, the appearance of the President-elect, and our -withdrawal to the porch of the Capitol, from which he was to -make his inaugural address—all of this remains indelibly impressed -upon my mind. His solemn, ardent words as he dedicated -himself afresh to the service of the country, the great -crowd straining to hear each sentence, the eager attitude of the -guard of honor (his beloved Rough Riders)—all made a vivid -picture never to be forgotten. An eye-witness wrote as follows: -“Old Chief Justice Fuller with his beautiful white hair and his -long, judicial gown administered the oath, and Roosevelt repeated -it so loudly that he could be heard in spite of the wind. -In fact the wind rather added to the impressiveness than otherwise, -as it gave the President a chance to throw back his shoulders -to resist it, and that gave you a wonderful feeling of strength -that went splendidly with the speech itself. The speech was -short, and was mainly a plea for the ‘Peace of Justice’ as compared -with the ‘Peace of the Coward.’ It was very stirring. -The applause was tremendous.”</p> - -<p>I would have my readers remember that when Theodore -Roosevelt pleaded for such a peace it was in 1905, nine years before -peace was broken by the armies of the Huns, and during -those long years he never once failed to preach that doctrine, -and to the last moment of his life abhorred and denounced the -peace of the coward.</p> - -<p>Following quickly on his inaugural speech came the luncheon -at the White House, at which friends from New York were as -cordially welcomed as were Bill Sewall’s large family from the -Maine woods and Will Merrifield, who, now a marshal, brought -the greetings of the State of Montana. After luncheon we all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225">225</a></span> -went out on the reviewing-stand. The President stood at the -front of the box, his hat always off in response to the salutes. -The great procession lasted for hours—West Pointers and naval -cadets followed by endless state organizations, governors on -horseback, cowboys waving their lassos and shouting favorite -slogans (they even lassoed a couple of men, <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">en passant</i>), Chief -Joseph, the grand old man of the Nez Percé tribe, gorgeously -caparisoned, his brilliant head-dress waving in the wind, followed -by a body of Indians only a shade less superb in costume, -and then a hundred and fifty Harvard fellows in black gowns -and caps—and how they cheered for the President as they passed -the stand! Surely there was never before such an inauguration -of any President in Washington. Never was there such -a feeling of personal devotion in so many hearts. Other Presidents -have had equal admiration, equal loyalty perhaps, but -none has had that loyalty and admiration given by so liberal -and varied a number of his fellow countrymen.</p> - -<p>It was dark before we left the stand, and soon inside of the -White House there followed a reception to the Rough Riders. -What a happy time the President had with them recalling bygone -adventures, while the Roosevelt and Robinson children ran -merrily about listening to the wonderful stories and feeding -the voracious Rough Riders. Later the President went bareheaded -to the steps under the porte-cochère and received the -cowboys, who rode past one after another, joyfully shaking -hands with their old chief, ready with some joke for his special -benefit, to which there was always a repartee. It was a unique -scene as they cheered the incoming magnate under the old porte-cochère, -and one never to be repeated. And then the Harvard -men filed past to shake hands. Needless to say, dinner was -rather late, though very merry, and we were all soon off to the -inaugural ball. It was a beautiful sight, the hall enormous, -with two rows of arches and pillars, one above the other, along -each side. The floor was absolutely crowded with moving people, -all with their faces straining up at our box. Ten thousand people<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226">226</a></span> -bought tickets. Mr. Matthew Hale, then tutor to my nephew -Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., has described the scene as follows: -“The whole room was beautifully decorated with lights and -wreaths and flowers. As I stood looking down on the great -pageant I felt as though I were in some other world,—as though -these people below there and moving in and out were not real -people, but were all part of some great mechanism built for our -special benefit. And then my feeling would change to the other -extreme when I thought of each one of those men and women -as individuals, each one thinking, and feeling and acting according -to his own will,—and that all, just for that one night, came -together for a common purpose, to see the President. Soon -an open place appeared in the throng before us, and the President -and Mrs. Roosevelt, and behind them Vice-President and -Mrs. Fairbanks, walked to the other end of the hall and back, -while the people cheered and cheered.” And soon it was time -to go back to the White House, and then, best of all, came what -we used to call a “back-hair” talk in Theodore and Edith’s room. -What fun we had as we talked the great day over in comfortable -déshabille. A small round bottle of old wine was found somewhere -by Mrs. Roosevelt, and the family drank the President’s -health, and we talked of old times and childhood days, and of -the dear ones whose hearts would have glowed so warmly had -they lived to see that day. We laughed immoderately over all -kinds of humorous happenings, and we could hardly bear to say -“good night,” we still felt so gay, so full of life and fun, so -invigorated and stimulated by the excitement and by the -deeper thoughts and desires, which, however, only took the form -that night of increasing hilarity!</p> - -<p>Shortly after that March inauguration my daughter Corinne, -just eighteen, was asked by her kind aunt to pay a visit at the -White House, and I impressed upon her the wonderful opportunity -she would have of listening to the great men of the world -at the informal luncheon gatherings which were a feature of -my brother’s incumbency. “Do not miss a word,” I said to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227">227</a></span> -my daughter. “Uncle Ted brings to luncheon all the great men -in Washington—almost always several members of the cabinet, -and any one of interest who is visiting there. Be sure and listen -to everything. You will never hear such talk again.” When -she returned home from that visit I eagerly asked her about -the wonderful luncheons at the White House, where I had so -frequently sat spellbound. My somewhat irreverent young -daughter said: “Mother, I laughed internally all through the -first luncheon at the White House during my visit. Uncle Ted -was perfectly lovely to me, and took me by the hand and -said: ‘Corinny, dear, you are to sit at my right hand to-day, and -you must have the most delightful person in the room on your -other side.’ With that he glanced at the distinguished crowd of -gentlemen who were surrounding him waiting to be assigned to -their places, and picking out a very elderly gentleman with a -long white beard, he said with glowing enthusiasm: ‘You shall -have John Burroughs, the great naturalist.’ I confess I had -hoped for some secretary in the cabinet, but, no, Uncle Ted -did not think there was any one in the world that compared in -thrilling excitement to his wonderful old friend and lover of -birds. Even so, I thought, ‘Mother would wish me to learn -all about natural history, and I shall hear marvellous ornithological -tales, even if politics must be put aside.’ But even in -that I was somewhat disappointed, for at the very beginning -of luncheon Uncle Ted leaned across me to Mr. Burroughs and -said: ‘John, this morning I heard a chippy sparrow, and he sang -twee, twee, right in my ear.’ Mr. Burroughs, with a shade of -disapproval on his face, said: ‘Mr. President, you must be mistaken. -It was not a <em>chippy</em> sparrow if it sang twee, twee. The -note of the <em>chippy</em> sparrow is twee, twee, twee.’ From that moment -the great affairs of our continent, the international crises -of all kinds were utterly forgotten, while the President of the -United States and his esteemed guest, the great naturalist, discussed -with a good deal of asperity whether that chippy sparrow -had said ‘twee, twee,’ or ‘twee, twee, twee.’ We rose from the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228">228</a></span> -table with the question still unsettled.” My brother always -loved to hear my daughter tell this story, although his face would -assume a somewhat sheepish expression as she dilated on the -difference between her mother’s prognostications of what a -luncheon at the White House would mean from an intellectual -standpoint, and what the realization actually became!</p> - -<p>In spite of my daughter’s experience, however, I can say -with truth that there never were such luncheons as those -luncheons at the White House during my brother’s life there. -The secretary of state, Mr. Elihu Root, with his unusual knowledge, -his pregnant wit, and quiet, brilliant sarcasm; the secretary -of war, Mr. Taft, with his gay smile and ready response; Mr. -Moody, the attorney-general with his charming culture and universal -kindliness, and Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, the brilliant -scholar and statesman, my brother’s most intimate friend and -constant companion, were frequent members of the luncheon-parties, -and always, the most distinguished visitor to Washington, -from whatever country or from whatever State of our own -country, would be brought in with the same informal hospitality -and received for the time being by President and Mrs. -Roosevelt into the intimacy of family life. The whole cabinet -would occasionally adjourn from one of their most important -meetings to the lunch-table, and then the President and Mr. -Root would cap each other’s stories of the way in which this or -that question had been discussed during the cabinet meeting. -I doubt also if ever there were quite such cabinet meetings as -were held during those same years!</p> - -<p>That spring Mr. Robinson and I took my daughter to Porto -Rico to visit Governor and Mrs. Beekman Winthrop. My -brother believed strongly in young men, and having admired -the intelligence of young Beekman Winthrop (he came of a fine -old New York family) as circuit judge in the Philippines, he -decided to make him governor of Porto Rico. He was only -twenty-nine, and his charming wife still younger, but they made -a most ideal couple as administrators of the beautiful island.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229">229</a></span> -After having been with them in the old palace for about a week, -and having enjoyed beyond measure all that was so graciously -arranged for us, I was approached one day by Governor Winthrop, -who told me that he was much distressed at the behavior -of a certain official and that he felt sure that the President would -not wish the man to remain in office, for he was actually a disgrace -to the United States. “Mrs. Robinson,” he said, “will -you not go to the President on your return, and tell him that I -am quite sure he would not wish to retain this man in office? -I know the President likes us to work with the tools which have -been given us, and I dislike beyond measure to seem not to be -able to do so, but I am convinced that this man should not represent -the United States in this island.” “Have you your proofs, -Beekman?” I asked. “I should not be willing to approach my -brother with any such criticism without accurate proofs.” “I -most assuredly have them,” he answered, and sure enough he -<em>did</em> have them, and I shortly afterward sailed with them back -to New York. Immediately upon my arrival I telegraphed my -brother as follows: “Would like to see you on Porto Rican business. -When shall I come?” One of Theodore Roosevelt’s most -striking characteristics was the rapidity with which he answered -letters or telegrams. One literally felt that one had not posted -a letter or sent the telegram rushing along the wire before the -rapid answer came winging back again, and <em>that</em> particular telegram -was no exception to the rule. I had rather hoped for a -week’s quiet in which to get settled after my trip to Porto Rico, -but that was not to be. The rapid-fire answer read as follows: -“Come tomorrow.” Of course there was nothing for me to do -but go “tomorrow.” It was late in April, and as I drove up to -the White House from the station, I thought how lovely a city -was Washington in the springtime. The yellow forsythias gave -a golden glow to the squares, and the soft hanging petals of the -fringe-trees waved in the scented air. I never drove under the -White House porte-cochère without a romantic feeling of excitement -at the realization that it was <em>my</em> brother, lover of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230">230</a></span> -Lincoln, lover of America, who lived under the roof which symbolized -all that America means to her children. As I went up -the White House steps, he blew out of the door, dressed for his -ride on horseback. His horse and that of a companion were -waiting for him. He came smilingly toward me, welcomed me, -and said: “Edie has had to go to Philadelphia for the night to -visit Nellie Tyler, so we are all alone, and I have ordered dinner -out on the back porch, for it is so warm and lovely, and there is -a full moon, and I thought we could be so quiet there. I have -so much to tell you. All sorts of political things have happened -during your absence, and besides that I have learned several -new poems of Kipling and Swinburne, and I feel like reciting -them to you in the moonlight!” “How perfectly lovely,” I -replied, “and when shall I see you about Porto Rico?” A slight -frown came on his brow, and he said, “Certainly not to-night,” -and then rather sternly: “You have your appointment at nine -o’clock to-morrow morning in the office to discuss business -matters.” Then with a returning smile: “I will be back pretty -soon. Good-by.” And he jumped on his horse and clattered -away toward Rock Creek.</p> - -<div id="if_i_230" class="figcenter" style="width: 434px;"> - <img src="images/i_230.jpg" width="434" height="600" alt="" /> - <div class="captionl"><cite>From the drawing by Jules Guérin.</cite></div> - <div class="caption"> - -<p>We had that lovely dinner on the portico at the back of the White House looking -toward the Washington Monument.</p></div></div> - -<p>It all came true, although it almost seemed like a fairy-tale. -We <em>had</em> that dinner <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">à deux</i> on the lovely portico at the rear of -the White House looking toward the Washington Monument—that -portico was beautifully reproduced by Sargent’s able brush -for Mrs. Roosevelt later—and under the great, soft moon, with -the scent of shrub and flower in the air, he recited Kipling and -Swinburne, and then falling into more serious vein, gave me -a vivid description of some difficulty he had had with Congress, -which had refused to receive a certain message which he -had written and during the interval between the sending of -it and their final decision to receive it, he had shut himself -up in his library, glad to have a moment of unexpected -leisure, and had written an essay, which he had long desired -to write, on the Irish sagas. The moon had waned and the -stars were brighter and deeper before we left the portico. We<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231">231</a></span> -never could go to bed when we were together, and I am so -glad that we never did!</p> - -<p>The next morning I knocked at his door at eight o’clock, to go -down to the early breakfast with the children, which was one of -the features also, quite as much as were the brilliant lunches, of -home life in the White House. He came out of his dressing-room -radiant and smiling, ready for the day’s work, looking as -if he had had eight hours of sleep instead of five, and rippling -all over with the laughter which he always infused into those -family breakfasts. As we passed the table at the head of the -staircase, at which later in the day my sister’s secretary wrote -her letters, the telephone-bell on the table rang, and with spontaneous -simplicity—not even thinking of ringing a bell for a -“menial” to answer the telephone-call—he picked up the receiver -himself as he passed by. His face assumed a listening -look, and then a broad smile broke over his features. “No,” -he said. “No, I am not Archie, I am Archie’s father.” A second -passed and he laughed aloud, and then said: “All right, I will -tell him; I won’t forget.” Hanging up the receiver, he turned -to me half-sheepishly but very much amused. “That’s a good -joke on any President,” he said. “You may have realized that -there was a little boy on the other end of that wire, and he started -the conversation by saying, ‘Is that you, Archie?’ and I replied, -‘No, it is Archie’s father.’ Whereupon he answered, with -evident disgust: ‘Well, you’ll <em>do</em>. Be sure and tell Archie to -come to supper. Now, don’t forget.’ ‘How the creatures order -you about!’” he gaily quoted from our favorite book, “Alice in -Wonderland,” and proceeded to run at full speed down to the -breakfast-room. There the children greeted us vociferously, -and the usual merry breakfast ensued. For that half-hour he -always belonged to the children. Questions and answers about -their school life, their recreation when out of school, etc., etc., -followed in rapid succession, interspersed with various fascinating -tales told by him for their special edification.</p> - -<p>After they had dispersed there was still a half-hour left before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232">232</a></span> -he went to the office at 9 o’clock, and whenever I visited -the White House (my visits were rather rare, as my husband, -being a busy real-estate broker in New York, could not often -break away) that half-hour was always given to me, and we invariably -walked around the great circle at the back of the White -House. It was his most vigorous moment of the day, that hour -from 8.30 to 9. He had not yet met the puzzling defeats and -compromises necessitated by the conflicting interests of the -many appointments in the office, and he was fresh and vivid, -interested in the problems that were to be brought to him for -solution that day, and observant of everything around him. I -remember that morning as we walked around the circle he was -discussing a very serious problem that had to be decided immediately, -and he held his forefinger straight up, and said: -“You know my temperament always wants to get there”—putting -his other forefinger on the apex of the first. “I naturally -wish to reach the goal of my desire, but would I not be very -blind and stupid if, because I couldn’t get <em>there</em>, I decided to -stay here” [changing his right forefinger to the base of the left] -“rather than get here”—finishing his simile by placing the right -finger to the third notch of the finger on his other hand.</p> - -<p>Just as he was finishing this simile his eye caught sight of a -tiny object on the pathway, so minute a little brown spot that -I should never have noticed it; but he stooped, picked it up, -and held it between his forefinger and thumb, looking at it -eagerly, and then muttering somewhat below his breath: “Very -early for a fox-sparrow.” He threw the tiny piece of fluff again -upon the path. “How do you know that that was a feather -from a fox-sparrow, Theodore?” I said, in my usual astonishment -at his observation and information. “I can understand -how you might know it was a sparrow, but how know it belonged -to the fox-sparrow rather than to any of the other innumerable -little creatures of that species?” He was almost deprecatory in -his manner as he said in reply: “Well, you see I have really -made a great study of sparrows.” And then we were back at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233">233</a></span> -entrance to the White House, and in a moment I leaned out of -the dining-room window and watched him walk across the short -space between that window and the office, his head thrown back, -his shoulders squared to meet the difficulties of the day, and -every bit of him alert, alive, and glowing with health and strength -and power and mentality.</p> - -<p>I went up-stairs, put on my “best bib and tucker,” and proceeded -to go around the other way to the front door of the offices. -As I rang the bell the dear old man who always opened the door -greeted me warmly, and said: “Yes, Mrs. Douglas Robinson, -your appointment is at 9. It is just time.” I went into the -outer hall, where a number of the appointees of 9.15, 9.30, etc., -were already waiting, to be surely on hand for their appointments, -and in a moment or two Mr. Loeb opened the door of -the private office of the President, and came out into the hall -and said in a rather impersonal way, “Mrs. Douglas Robinson’s -appointment,” and I was shown into the room. My brother -was seated at a large table, and on it was every imaginable paper -marked “Porto Rico.” As I entered he was still reading one of -these papers. He looked up, and I almost felt a shock as I met -what seemed to be a pair of perfectly opaque blue eyes. I could -hardly believe they were the eyes of the brother with whom -I had so lately parted, the eyes that had glistened as he recited -the poems of Kipling and Swinburne, the eyes that had -almost closed to see better the tiny breast-fluff of the fox-sparrow. -These were rather cold eyes, the eyes of a just judge, eyes -that were turned upon his sister as they would have been turned -upon any other individual who came to him in connection with -a question about which he must give his most careful and deliberate -decision. He waved me to a chair, finished the paper -he was reading, and then turning to me, his eyes still stern and -opaque, he said: “I believe you have come to see me on business -connected with Porto Rico. Kindly be as condensed as -possible.” I decided to meet him on his own ground, and made -my eyes as much like his as possible, and was as condensed as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234">234</a></span> -possible. Having listened carefully to my short story, he said: -“Have you proof of this?” still rather sternly. Again I decided -to answer as he asked, and I replied: “I should not be here, -wasting your time and mine, did I not have adequate proof.” -With that I handed him the notes made by the governor of Porto -Rico, and proceeded to explain them. He became a little less -severe after reading them, but no less serious, and turning -to me more gently, said: “This is a very serious matter. I -have got to be sure of the correctness of these statements. A -man’s whole future hangs upon my decision.” For a moment -I felt like an executioner, but realizing as I did the shocking -and disgraceful behavior of the official in question, I knew that -no sentimentality on my part should interfere with the important -decision to be made, and I briefly backed up all that the -governor had written. I can still hear the sound of the President’s -pen as he took out the paper on which the man’s name -was inscribed, and with one strong stroke effaced that name -from official connection with Porto Rico forever. That was -the way that Theodore Roosevelt did business with his sister.</p> - -<p>During that same year, 1905, the old Provençal poet Frédéric -Mistral sent him his volume called “Mireille,” and the acknowledgment -of the book seems to me to express more than almost -any other letter ever written by my brother the spirit which -permeated his whole life. It shows indisputably that though -he had reached the apex of his desires, that though he was a -great President of a great country, perhaps the most powerful -ruler at the moment of any country, that his ideals for that country, -just as his ideals for himself and for his own beloved home -life, were what they had always been before the sceptre of power -had been clasped by his outstretched hand.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -White House, Washington,<br /> -<span class="l1">December 15, 1905.</span> -</p> - -<p class="in0"> -<span class="smcap">My dear M. Mistral</span>: -</p> - -<p>Mrs. Roosevelt and I were equally pleased with the book -and the medal, and none the less because for nearly twenty years<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235">235</a></span> -we have possessed a copy of Mireille. That copy we shall keep -for old association’s sake, though this new copy with the personal -inscription by you must hereafter occupy the place of -honor.</p> - -<p>All success to you and your associates! You are teaching -the lesson that none need more to learn than we of the West, -we of the eager, restless, wealth-seeking nation; the lesson that -after a certain not very high level of material well-being has -been reached, then the things that really count in life are the -things of the spirit. Factories and railways are good up to a -certain point, but courage and endurance, love of wife and child, -love of home and country, love of lover for sweetheart, love of -beauty in man’s work and in nature, love and emulation of daring -and of lofty endeavour, the homely work-a-day virtues and -the heroic virtues—these are better still, and if they are lacking, -no piled-up riches, no roaring, clanging industrialism, no feverish -and many-sided activity shall avail either the individual or -the nation. I do not undervalue these things of a nation’s body; -I only desire that they shall not make us forget that beside the -nation’s body there is also the nation’s soul.</p> - -<p>Again thanking you on behalf of both of us, believe me,</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l6">Faithfully yours,</span><br /> -(Signed) <span class="smcap">Theodore Roosevelt</span>. -</p> - -<p class="in0"> -To M. Frédéric Mistral. -</p></blockquote> - -<p>No wonder that Mistral turned to a friend after reading -that letter and said with emotion: “It is he who is the new hope -of humanity.”</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236">236</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="XII"></a>XII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">HOME LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE<br /> - -<span class="subhead">(CONTINUED)</span></span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Men smile through falling tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remembering the courage of his years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stood each one for God, humanity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And covenanted world-wide Liberty!<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Edith Daley. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">One</span> of the most extraordinary things about my brother -was that in the midst of his full political life, a life -“pressed down and overflowing,” he still had time for -the most loving interest in personal family matters. Just after -the great moment of his inauguration, he sent me a number of -photographs of my eldest son and his young wife, just married, -who had gone around the world and were staying with General -Wood in the Philippines, and adds in the letter: “It was such -a pleasure to have Douglas and you down here for the inauguration, -and to see the boys and Corinne.” In June of that same -year, when my two younger boys had each won a boat-race at -St. Paul’s School, he takes a moment from his pressing duties -to write another letter: “Darling Corinne: Good for Monroe -and Stewart! Give them my hearty congratulations; I have -only time for this line.” Such unusual thoughtfulness could -not fail to keep burning perpetually the steady fire of my love -for him.</p> - -<p>In July, 1905, he sent me one of the inauguration medals -signed by Saint-Gaudens. In looking at the head upon that -medal, one realized perfectly by the strong lines of temple and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237">237</a></span> -forehead that Theodore Roosevelt had come to the fulness of -his intellectual powers.</p> - -<p>About the same time there was a naval review at Oyster -Bay, and Mrs. Roosevelt writes: “The review was a wonderful -sight. I wish you could have been here. The morning was dark -and stormy, with showers of driving rain, until Theodore’s flag -broke out from the <i>Mayflower</i>, when the clouds suddenly dispersed -and the sun shone brightly.” How often we used to feel -that the sun always broke out when Theodore’s flag flew!</p> - -<p>One other little line from his pen, December 19, 1905, shows -the same constant thoughtfulness. He says: “Will you send -the enclosed note to Dora? I am not sure of her address. I -hate to trouble you, but I want to have poor ‘Dolly’ get it by -Christmas Day.” Dora was his old, childhood nurse, one to -whom we were very much devoted, and whom he never -forgot.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the new year, 1906, he writes to my husband: -“Dear Douglas,—By George! Stewart is doing well. -[I think this referred to the fact that my youngest boy had been -chosen as goal-keeper of the St. Paul’s School hockey team!] -That is awfully nice. I was mighty glad Wadsworth was elected. -I shall have difficulties this year, and I cannot expect to get -along as well as I did last year, but I shall do the best I can.” -Never blinded by past popularity, always ready for the difficulties -to come, and yet never dwelling so strongly on these difficulties -that by the very dwelling on them even greater difficulties -were brought to bear upon him. It was quite true that it proved -in many ways, a more difficult year than the one preceding, but -a happy year all the same, a happiness which culminated in his -satisfaction in the marriage of his daughter Alice to Nicholas -Longworth, of Cincinnati, Ohio, an able member of the House -of Representatives. His announcement to me of the engagement -was made at the dinner-table one evening before it was -known to the world, and not wishing to have it disclosed <em>to</em> the -world through the table-servants, he decided to give me the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238">238</a></span> -news in French. His French was always fluent, but more or -less of a literal translation from the English, which method he -exaggerated humorously. “Je vais avoir un fils en loi,” he said, -smiling gaily at me across the table, delighted at my puzzled -expression. With a little more explanation I realized what he -was suggesting to my befuddled brain, and he then proceeded -to describe a conversation he had had with the so-called “fils en -loi,” and how he had talked to him like “un oncle Hollandais,” -or “Dutch uncle”!</p> - -<p>There was much excitement at the prospect of a wedding -in the White House, and, needless to say, so many were the requests -to be present that the line had to be drawn very carefully, -and, in consequence, the whole affair assumed an intimate -and personal aspect. Alice’s Boston grandparents, Mr. and -Mrs. George C. Lee, were especially welcomed by Mrs. Roosevelt, -and my memory of the great morning of the wedding has -a curiously “homey” quality. I much doubt if there was ever a -function—for a wedding in the White House could hardly be -anything but a function—so simple, so charming, and so informal -as that marriage of the lovely daughter of the White -House. Almost all the morning Mrs. Roosevelt knitted peacefully -at the sunny window up-stairs near her secretary’s desk, -chatting quietly with Mrs. Lee. All preparations seemed to -have been made in, the most quiet and efficient manner, for there -was no hurry, no excitement. My husband took Mr. Lee for -a walk, as the dear old gentleman was very much excited at the -prospect of his granddaughter’s nuptials in the “East Room.” -Everything seemed to go on quite as usual until the actual -moment came, and Alice Roosevelt, looking very beautiful in -her long court train and graceful veil, came through the group -of interested friends up to the white ribbon which formed, with -flowers, a chancel at the end of the “East Room.” My brother -was at his best—gay, affectionate, full of life and fun, and -later took his son-in-law (no longer “to-be”) and all the ushers, -members of Harvard’s Porcellian Club like himself, into the state<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239">239</a></span> -dining-room to drink the health of the bride and groom, and recall -various incidents of his and of their college days.</p> - -<p>In March of that year I wrote him that my youngest boy -was to debate at St. Paul’s School on the Santo Domingo question, -and he answered at once, with that marvellous punctuality -of his: “I wrote Stewart at once and sent him all the information -I could on the Santo Domingo business. I wish you were -down here. In great haste. Ever yours, T. R.”</p> - -<p>In great haste, yes, but not too busy to write to a schoolboy-nephew -“at once,” and give him the most accurate information -that could be given on the question upon which he was to take -part in school debate.</p> - -<p>Again, when I suggested joining him in his car on his way -that fall to vote at Oyster Bay, he writes: “Three cheers! Now -you can join me. We will have lunch immediately after leaving. -I am so anxious to see you. I shall just love the Longfellow.” -[Evidently some special edition that I am about to bring to -him.]</p> - -<p>On November 20, with his usual interest in my boys, he sends -me a delightful letter from his ex-cowboy superintendent, Will -Merrifield, with whom they had been hunting in August and -September, 1906; and I am interested to see after reading his -opinion of my boys how Mr. Merrifield, although many years -had passed since the old days of the Elkhorn Ranch, still turns -to him for advice, still, beyond all else, wishes to justify his various -ventures in the eyes of his old “boss.” Merrifield writes: “I -have sold my ranch, and will be able to make good all my financial -obligations, which was my great ambition, besides having -something left, so that <em>I will not take office for the purpose of making -money</em>. [That was one of Theodore Roosevelt’s perpetual -preachings, that no one should take office for the purpose of -making money.] I can be independent as far as money goes, -and <em>above all</em> will be able to make good my word to you years -ago, as soon as my business is straightened out.” He sends me -the letter not because of that sentence, but because, as he says,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240">240</a></span> -“This letter from Merrifield is so nice about Monroe and Stewart -that I thought I would send it to you. How well they did.” -Always the same generous joy in the achievements of any of -the younger generation.</p> - -<p>Again, on December 26, comes a long letter describing another -“White House Christmas.” He deplores the fact that -the children are growing a little older, and that “Ted” says in -a melancholy way that he no longer feels the wild excitement -of former years and the utter inability to sleep soundly during -the night before Christmas. He adds, however: “Personally -I think that ‘Ted’ also was thoroughly in the spirit of the thing -when Christmas actually arrived, because by six o’clock every -child of every size was running violently to and fro along the -hall, in and out of all the other children’s rooms, the theory being -that Edith and I were still steeped in dreamless and undisturbed -slumber!”</p> - -<p>It is true that that winter <em>was</em> more difficult than the winter -before, but he met the unusual difficulties with unabated courage, -and writes in October, 1907, after giving me much family -news: “Indeed times have been bad in New York, and as is -always the case the atonement was largely vicarious, and innocent -people suffered. I hope it does not extend through the -rest of the country. If we check it, I think it will mean ultimate -good, though it will also mean depression for a year at least.”</p> - -<p>In March, 1908, in the midst of harassing controversies and -presidential difficulties of all kinds, he takes the time and interest -to write concerning a young friend of mine into whose -life had come an unfortunate trouble. The letter is so full of a -certain quality—what perhaps I might call a righteous ruthlessness -specially characteristic of Theodore Roosevelt—that I -quote a few lines from it:</p> - -<p>“I hate to think of her suffering; but the only thing for her -to do now is to treat the past as past, the event as finished and -out of her life; to dwell on it, and above all to keep talking of -it with any one, would be both weak and morbid. She should<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241">241</a></span> -try not to think of it; this she cannot wholly avoid, but she <em>can</em> -avoid speaking of it. She should show a brave and cheerful -front to the world, whatever she feels; and henceforth she should -never speak one word of the matter to any one. In the long -future, when the memory is too dead to throb, she may, if she -wishes, speak of it once more, but if she is wise and brave, she -will not speak of it now.”</p> - -<p>This note referring to a matter which did not come, except -through the interests of affection, close to his own life shows -with startling clearness the philosophy of his attitude toward -sorrows wherein an original mistake had perhaps been the cause -of sorrow. Of all the qualities in my brother, this one never -failed him. It was not harshness; it was, as I said, a righteous -ruthlessness. The thing that injured one’s possibility for service -in any way must be cut out or burnt out. When that great sorrow -of his own life, the death of his splendid boy, came in July, -1918, although he never put aside the sympathy of others—indeed, -he gladly welcomed it, and gladly even would talk with -those in his innermost circle of the youngest he loved so well—still, -as a rule, his attitude was similar to that taken in the above -letter. Morbid craving could <em>not</em> bring back his child; morbid -craving <em>could</em> hurt his own potential power for good. The grief -must be met with high head and squared shoulders, and the -work still to do <em>must</em> be done.</p> - -<p>All through the spring of 1908 the question as to his successor -in the White House was constantly in his mind. After -serious thought he had come to the conclusion that of the men -closest to him, William Howard Taft, who had done splendid -work as governor in the Philippines and had been an able lieutenant -in the work of the Roosevelt administration, would most -conscientiously carry out the policies he thought vital for the -country. This belief did not in any way mean that he wished -Mr. Taft to be an automaton or dummy, possible of manipulation, -but he felt that his then secretary of war was more thoroughly -in sympathy with the policies which he believed to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242">242</a></span> -the right policies for our country than any other man except -the secretary of state, Mr. Elihu Root, whose possible election -to the presidency he felt would be very doubtful. Many have -criticised in later years, especially after the trouble in 1912, his -choice of Mr. Taft to succeed him. There came out at one time -an article in the periodical <cite>Life</cite> which, to my mind, explained -well the confidence which my brother placed in almost every -man who worked with him. The article said approximately: -“The reason that Theodore Roosevelt occasionally made mistakes -in feeling that some of his associates in the work of the -government would continue to be what he believed them to be, -is as follows: <em>While</em> any individual was working with Mr. Roosevelt, -in fact, <em>under</em> Mr. Roosevelt, the latter had the power of -inspiring the said individual with his own acuteness, his own -energy, his own ability. The person, therefore, frequently shone -with a reflex light, a light which seemed to Mr. Roosevelt to -originate in him, but in fact, came from his own unfailing -sources. The consequence is that when some official who had -seemed to Mr. Roosevelt to be almost a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">rara avis</i>, was left to his -own devices, and without the magnetic personality of his chief to -inspire in him qualities not really indigenous in him, the change -in what that official could accomplish was very marked.” Theodore -Roosevelt was convinced that Mr. Taft was entirely in -accord with the policies in which he so fully believed, and he -had absolute confidence that in leaving in his hands the work -which he had striven so hard to perfect, he was doing the best -thing possible for the United States.</p> - -<p>At that time the people wanted to renominate my brother -as President. He, however, was convinced that a renomination -would have defeated the spirit of the unwritten law that no man -should succeed himself a third time in succession.</p> - -<p>I was present at the convention in Chicago in 1908, and have -fortunately retained a letter written to my children the very -morning of that convention, which runs as follows:</p> - -<p>“Oh, how I wish you could have been here this morning.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243">243</a></span> -Such an ovation was never known as greeted Mr. Lodge’s mention -of your Uncle Ted. Mr. Lodge’s speech was most scholarly -and reserved, and in referring to the laws, he said, ‘The President -has invariably enforced the laws, and the President is the -most abused and the most <em>popular</em> man in the country.’ Then -came a ripple and then a mighty shout of applause, growing -louder and louder, increasing and increasing more and more -every moment. They clapped, they shouted, they cheered. The -whole great Convention sang the Star Spangled Banner, and -then they clapped again, and carried ‘Teddybears’ around the -hall. They took off their coats and swung them around their -heads. You have never even imagined anything like it. Several -times, Mr. Lodge raised his gavel, but with no result, and -finally he started his speech again, and persevered until the deafening -noise began to subside fifty minutes after it began. It -really was a wonderful and thrilling scene. It was three o’clock -before we could keep our luncheon engagement at George Porter’s -that first day.”</p> - -<p>The following day it required all Mr. Lodge’s determination, -and a ringing message over the telephone from the White House -itself, to prevent the renomination of my brother. Not only -did the people want him, but, what has been so often <em>not</em> the -case, the <em>delegates</em> wanted him as well. It was one of those rare -moments at a great convention when the people and the delegates -were in accord, and yet, it was not to be. The will of Theodore -Roosevelt was carried out, and William Howard Taft was -chosen as the nominee of the Republican party for the next President -of the United States.</p> - -<p>On June 23, 1908, came a letter from the White House to -me: “Darling Corinne—It was very good of you and Douglas -to telegraph me. I am extremely pleased with the result of the -Convention. I think Cabot’s handling of it was masterly.” -And then, on June 26, an extremely interesting letter came, -one, I think, which, written as it was four years before the great -controversy of 1912, settles forever that question which was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244">244</a></span> -so much discussed as to what Theodore Roosevelt meant by -his statement that he would not run for the presidency again. -This letter, on White House paper, is dated Oyster Bay, June -26, 1908:</p> - -<p>“Darling Corinne—My letter must have crossed yours. -It was just exactly as you and Alice said. Now there is nothing -to explain. I have been much amused at the fact that my English -friends are wholly incapable of understanding my reasons -for the view I take, and think it due to weakness or some fantastic -scruple on my part. My theory has been that the presidency -should be a powerful office, and the President a powerful man, -who will take every advantage of it; but, as a corollary, a man -who can be held accountable to the people, after a term of four -years, and who will not in any event occupy it for more than a -<em>stretch</em> of eight years....” Nothing is more conclusive of my -brother’s attitude than that sentence “who will not in any event -occupy it for more than a <em>stretch</em> of eight years.” He did not -believe in a third term <em>consecutively</em>, but in no way did he pledge -himself at that time, or at any other time, not to consider again -the possible gift of the highest place in the nation, should an -interval come between his occupancy of the White House and -the renewed desire of the people that he should fill that place -in the nation once more. I have given some time to his attitude -on this question, as it has been much misunderstood.</p> - -<p>In amusing contrast to the seriousness of his decision not to -accept a renomination comes a characteristic incident in the -President’s career. The account of this I quote from a letter to -me of Mr. Gustavus Town Kirby, a participator himself in the -event. The letter runs as follows:</p> - -<p>“In 1908 the Olympic Games had been held at London, -England, and when the athletes returned to this country, most -of them went, with some heads of the American Olympic Committee, -including the late James E. Sullivan and myself, to visit -and receive the congratulations of the then President of the -United States at his summer home in Oyster Bay. [What committee,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245">245</a></span> -on no matter <em>what</em> important business, did not receive -the congratulations of that eclectic President at his summer -home at Oyster Bay!] I shall never forget the enthusiasm of -the gathering, nor how, no sooner had either Sullivan or I presented -a member of the team to the President, than he would, -by use of his wonderful memory and in his most inspiring manner, -tell the special athlete all about his own performance,—how far -he had put the shot to win his event, or how gamely he had run; -by how much he had beaten his competitor; his new world-record -time, and the like. At the time I marvelled, and I thought -even one as great as he must have ‘brushed up’ for the occasion, -but ‘Billy’ Loeb, his Secretary, told me afterwards that it was -not so, and that all during the Games he was kept constantly -informed of the result of the performances of our boys; and -while he actually knew none of these boys by sight, he not only -knew them by name, but their performances as well. Not only -to me, but to all gathered at this reception was this feat of memory -most astounding. Mr. Roosevelt’s gracious cordiality, his -fine speech of congratulation, and his magnetic personality had -such an effect on all that it was with great difficulty that they -could be literally <em>driven</em> from the grounds and onto the Long -Island boat for their return to New York.</p> - -<p>“Michael Murphy, the trainer, many years trainer at Yale, -and thereafter at ‘Pennsylvania,’ and also for the New York -Athletic Club, whose team in 1895 was triumphant over the -great team of the London Athletic Club, was also a member of -the party. On the way back in the boat I happened to pass -through the cabin, which was entirely empty except for Michael -Murphy, who, like the all but wizened-up old man he was, having -but about a quarter of a lung, and deaf except to those things -which he could not hear, sat huddled in a corner. I went up to -Mike and said, ‘What are you doing?’ He answered, ‘I am -thinking!’ I replied, ‘Yes, that is evident; but what are you -thinking about?’ He then said: ‘Well, Mr. Kirby, I suppose -there is no doubt but that I am the greatest trainer of men in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246">246</a></span> -the world.’ ‘That certainly is true,’ I said. He went on: ‘Mr. -Kirby, you are all wrong; until we went down to Oyster Bay -I thought I might be, but now I know I am not.’ ‘But,’ I said, -‘Mike, that is nonsense. What do you mean?’ Then Mike answered, -‘Give me sixty men, every one of whom is a champion, -and let that man at Oyster Bay have sixty other men, every -one of whom is a dub, and his team would lick mine every time!’ -I said, ‘Mike, this is impossible; it could not be,’ and then Mike -continued,—showing how that magnetic personality of Mr. -Roosevelt’s had taken hold of him, and how truly he, Mike -Murphy, understood the psychology of inspiration,—‘Yes, Mr. -Kirby, you see it’s this way; that man down there would tell -a miler that he could reel off a mile in four minutes, (as you -know, no one has run, or ever will run a mile in four minutes) -and not only would that man <em>think</em> he could run a mile in four -minutes, but, by Gad, he’d go out and <em>do</em> it.’”</p> - -<p>Perhaps no one has ever more cleverly expressed the extraordinary -power of that personality than that wizened old trainer, -sunk into despondency because he realized that where men are -concerned skill and science are as nothing compared to the genius -of leadership.</p> - -<p>That summer my brother showed to my husband and myself -his never-failing love and consideration in a very special -manner. My husband’s mother had died a couple of years before, -and her son and daughter and myself had decided that the -most fitting memorial to one who was specially beloved and -missed in the immediate vicinity of her old home would be the -erection of a small free library to the memory of her and her -husband. The building was completed, and my husband wished -to have a dedication service, at which time he would hand over -the keys to the library trustees in our village of Jordanville. -My husband’s old home, a grant in the time of Queen Anne to -his great-great-great-grandfather, Doctor James Henderson, of -Scotland, had always been a place for which my brother had a -deep affection. Situated as it was on the high Mohawk hills<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247">247</a></span> -overlooking the great sweep of typical American farm-land, we -lived a somewhat Scotch life in the old gray-stone mansion copied -from the manor-house of Mr. Robinson’s Scotch ancestors. My -brother delighted in our relationship with the neighbors in our -environment, and accepted gladly my husband’s earnest desire -that he should make the speech of dedication when the library -was given by us to the little village of Jordanville.</p> - -<p>It was a great day for that tiny village when the President -of the United States, his secretary of state, Mr. Elihu Root, -and the Vice-President-elect, James S. Sherman, a native of -the next county, after being our guests at luncheon, proceeded -on my husband’s four-in-hand brake to the steps of the little -colonial building three miles away, designed by our friend Mr. -S. Breck P. Trowbridge.</p> - -<p>What a day it was and what fun we had! After the library -exercises we held a reception at our home, Henderson House, -and hundreds of every sort and kind of vehicle were left or tethered -along the high ridge near our house. My brother and I -stood at the end of the quaint old drawing-room, and an endless -file of country neighbors passed before him, and each and all -were greeted with his personal enthusiasm and the marvellous -knowledge of their interests with which the slightest word from -me seemed to make him cognizant. The sunset lights faded -over the Mohawk hills and lost their last gleam in the winding -river below before the last “dead-wood coach” or broken-down -buggy had disappeared from the grounds of Henderson House, -and then in the old hall my own family servants—many of them -had been twenty or thirty years upon the place—came in to greet -him after supper, and sang the hymn which they often sang -on Sunday evenings: “God be with you till we meet again.” -The stories of that day will be told in time to come by the children’s -children of my kind friends of Warren Township, Herkimer -County. Theodore himself writes of the experience as follows:</p> - -<p>“Oyster Bay, August 27, 1908. Dearest Corinne and Douglas: -There is not a thing I would have missed throughout the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248">248</a></span> -whole day. It was a very touching little ceremony, and most -of all it was delightful to see you two in your lovely home, living -just the kind of life that I feel is typical of what American -life should be at its best. I was so glad to see all your neighbors, -and to see the terms they were on with you. Moreover, the view, -the grounds, the house itself, and all there was therein, were -delightful beyond measure; and most delightful of all was it -to see the three generations ranging from you two to the babies -of dear Helen and Teddy. Ever yours, Theodore Roosevelt.” -As usual, he never spared an effort to do the lovely thing, and -then say the satisfying thing to those for whom he had done -the service.</p> - -<p>And now the time of Theodore Roosevelts incumbency as -President was drawing to a close. There is always a glamour -as well as a shadow over “last times,” and my last visit to the -White House, in February, 1909, stands out very clearly. My -brother, the year before, had sent the great American fleet around -the world, an expedition discountenanced by many, and yet -conceded later to have been one of his most brilliantly conceived -strategic inspirations. “In time of peace, prepare for war,” -said Washington, and Theodore Roosevelt always followed that -maxim. That trip around the world of the American fleet was -more conducive to peace than any other action that could have -been taken. The purpose was “friendly,” of course, but those -splendid battle-ships of ours, engineered by such able commanders, -could not fail to be an object-lesson to any who felt that -the United States was too isolated to care for her own defense.</p> - -<p>But even in such a demonstration as this, he managed to -include a touch of exquisite sentiment. When the great vessels -neared the Hawaiian Islands, he ordered them to deflect their -course to pass by and salute the tragic island of Molokai, home -of the afflicted lepers, so that they too should know of the protection -which America affords to its most unfortunate children.</p> - -<p>During those days in February, 1909, he seemed as gay as -a boy let out of school. He was making all the arrangements<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249">249</a></span> -for his great African adventure. In fact, with his usual “preparedness,” -he had been preparing for that event for a whole -year. Everything was accurately arranged, and he and his son -Kermit were to start immediately after he was to leave the White -House in March. The lectures which he was to deliver a year -from the following spring were all written and corrected. One -afternoon in the “Blue Bedroom,” which I generally occupied -on my visits, I heard a knock at my door, and he came in with -several rolls of paper under his arm. “It is raining,” he said, -“and I think I won’t take my ride. I want your opinion on the -lectures I am to deliver at Oxford, in Berlin, and at the Sorbonne. -I should like to read them to you,” and we settled down -for a long delightful, quiet time “à deux.” As usual, he was -more than willing to listen to any remark or criticism, and once -or twice accepted my slight suggestions of what I thought could -improve his articles.</p> - -<p>Some people felt that my brother was often egotistical, and -mistook his conviction that this or that thing was right for an -egotistical inability to look at it any other way. When he was -convinced that his own attitude was correct, and that for the -good of this or that scheme no other attitude should be taken, -then nothing could swerve him; but when, as was often the -case, it was not a question of conviction, but of advisability, -he was the most open-minded of men, and gladly accepted and -pondered the point of view of any one in whom he had confidence. -I was always touched and gratified beyond measure at -the simple and sometimes almost humble way in which he would -listen to a difference of opinion upon my part. Occasionally, -after thinking it seriously over, he would concede that my point -of view was right. In this particular case, however, they were -the slightest of slight suggestions which I made, for each of -those articles seemed to me in its own way a masterpiece.</p> - -<p>During that visit also occurred the last diplomatic dinner, -always followed when he was President by the delightful, informal -supper at tables set in the upper hall of the White House.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250">250</a></span> -That night he was particularly gay, and many witty repartees -passed between him and our beautiful and gifted friend, Mrs. -Cabot Lodge, the friend who had for us all, through her infinite -charm and brilliant intellectuality, a fascination possessed -by no other. She almost always sat at his table at the -informal suppers, and, needless to say, those two were the centre -of attraction. The table at which I myself sat that night -had the distinguished presence of General Leonard Wood, General -Young, and the French ambassador, Monsieur Jusserand, -one of my brother’s favorite companions on the famous White -House walks, hero of the true story of the time when on one -of those same famous walks they inadvertently came to the river, -into which my brother plunged, followed immediately by the -dauntless French ambassador, who refused to “take off his gloves -for fear of meeting the ladies”!</p> - -<p>I spent one whole morning in the office during that visit, -having asked my brother if I might sit quietly in a corner and -listen to his interviews, to which request he gladly acceded. One -after another, people filed in to see him. I made a few notes -of the conversations. One of his first answers to some importunate -person who wished him to take a stand on some special -subject (at that time he was anxious not to embarrass his successor, -Mr. Taft, by taking any special stands) was: “As Napoleon -said to his marshals, ‘I don’t want to make pictures of myself.’”</p> - -<p>In receiving Mr. Hall, the president of the Gridiron Club, -he remarked that he (Theodore Roosevelt) had been one of the -few people who used these dinners as “a field of missionary endeavor.” -Doctor Schick, of the Dutch Reformed Church, in -which he had been a regular attendant, came to arrange for a -good-by meeting at the church. To a man who came in to see -him on the subject of industrial peace, he replied: “The President -believes in conciliation in industrial problems.” Endless subjects -were brought up for his consideration, and many times I heard -him say: “Remember, a new man is in the saddle, and there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251">251</a></span> -can’t be two Presidents after March 4th.” These notes were -taken at the time, February, 1909, and are not the result of -memory conveniently adjusted toward later happenings.</p> - -<p>Every time I talked with my brother on the subject of the -future, he repeated the fact that he was glad to plunge into the -wilderness, so that no one could possibly think that he wanted -a “finger in the pie” of the new administration. Over and over -again he would say: “If I am where they can’t get at me, and -where I cannot hear what is going on, I cannot be supposed to -wish to interfere with the methods of my successor.”</p> - -<p>One quiet evening when we had had a specially lovely family -dinner, I turned to him and said: “Theodore, I want to give -you a <em>real</em> present before you go away. What do you think you -would like?” His eyes sparkled like a child who was about to -receive a specially nice toy, and he said: “Do you really want -to make me a <em>real</em> present, Pussie? I think I should like a pigskin -library.” “A pigskin library,” I said, in great astonishment. -“What is a pigskin library?” He laughed, and said: “Of course, -I must take a good many books; I couldn’t go anywhere, not -even into jungles in Africa without a good many books. But -also, of course, they are not very likely to last in ordinary bindings, -and so I want to have them all bound in pigskin, and I -would rather have that present than any other.” The next day -he dictated a list of the books which he wished, and the following -evening added in his own handwriting a few more. The list is -as follows:</p> - -<p class="p1 center">BOOKS IN THE PIGSKIN LIBRARY</p> - -<p class="p1 in0 in4 mono nojustify"><br /> -Bible.<br /> -<br /> -Apocrypha.<br /> -<br /> -Borrow: Bible in Spain.<br /> - Zingali.<br /> - Lavengro.<br /> - Wild Wales.<br /> - The Romany Rye.<br /> -<br /> -Shakespeare.<br /> -<br /> -Spenser: Faerie Queene.<br /> -<br /> -Marlowe.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252">252</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Mahan: Sea Power.<br /> -<br /> -Macaulay: History.<br /> - Essays.<br /> - Poems.<br /> -<br /> -Homer: Iliad.<br /> - Odyssey.<br /> -<br /> -La Chanson de Roland.<br /> -<br /> -Nibelungenlied.<br /> -<br /> -Carlyle: Frederick the Great.<br /> -<br /> -Shelley: Poems.<br /> -<br /> -Bacon: Essays.<br /> -<br /> -Lowell: Literary Essays.<br /> - Biglow Papers.<br /> -<br /> -Emerson: Poems.<br /> -<br /> -Longfellow.<br /> -<br /> -Tennyson.<br /> -<br /> -Poe: Tales.<br /> - Poems.<br /> -<br /> -Keats.<br /> -<br /> -Milton: Paradise Lost (Books I and II).<br /> -<br /> -Dante: Inferno (Carlyle’s translation).<br /> -<br /> -Holmes: Autocrat.<br /> - Over the Teacups.<br /> -<br /> -Bret Harte: Poems.<br /> - Tales of the Argonauts.<br /> - Luck of Roaring Camp.<br /> -<br /> -Browning: Selections.<br /> -<br /> -Crothers: Gentle Reader.<br /> - Pardoner’s Wallet.<br /> -<br /> -Mark Twain: Huckleberry Finn.<br /> - Tom Sawyer.<br /> -<br /> -The Federalist.<br /> -<br /> -Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.<br /> -<br /> -Froissart.<br /> -<br /> -Gregorovius: Rome.<br /> -<br /> -Percy’s Reliques.<br /> -<br /> -Euripides (Murray’s translation):<br /> - Bacchæ.<br /> - Hippolytus.<br /> -<br /> -Scott: Legend of Montrose.<br /> - Antiquary.<br /> - Guy Mannering.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253">253</a></span><br /> - Rob Roy.<br /> - Waverley.<br /> -<br /> -Cooper: Two Admirals.<br /> - Pilot.<br /> -<br /> -Dickens: Pickwick.<br /> - Mutual Friend.<br /> -<br /> -Thackeray: Vanity Fair.<br /> - Pendennis. -</p> - -<p class="p1">The famous pigskin library, carried on the back of “burros,” -followed him into the jungles of Africa, and was his constant -companion at the end of long days during which he had slain -the mighty beasts of the tangled forests.</p> - -<p>Immediately after that happy week at the White House, I -was stricken by a great sorrow, the death of my youngest son -by an accident. My brother came to me at once, and sustained -me as no one else could have done, and his one idea during those -next weeks was to make me realize his constant thought and -love, even in the midst of those thrilling last days at the White -House, when among other events he welcomed home the great -fleet which had completed its circle of the world.</p> - -<p>A few days before the death of my boy, and immediately -after that enchanting last visit to the house we had learned to -regard as Theodore’s natural home, he wrote me the last letter -I received from him dated from the White House. It was written -February 19, 1909:</p> - -<p>“Darling Corinne: Just a line to tell you what I have already -told you, of how we shall always think of you and thank you -when we draw on the ‘Pigskin Library’ in Africa. It was too -dear of you to give it to me. That last night was the pleasantest -function we had ever held at the White House, and I am so glad -that you and Douglas were there. Tell Douglas he cannot imagine -how I have enjoyed the rides with him.” The above was -typewritten, but inserted in his own handwriting at the end of -the note were the characteristic lines: “You blessèd person. I -have revelled in having you down here. T. R.”</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254">254</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="XIII"></a>XIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">WALL STREET HOPES EVERY LION WILL -DO ITS DUTY</span></h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center larger">THE LION THAT ROOSEVELT SHOT</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now in Elysian woods, at last foregathered,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comrades, we range together, sire and sire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We who on earth were kings, and nobly fathered,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, regally, wore each his earth attire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How proudly at his heel in dawn or gloaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With him, the lion-hearted, I am roaming!<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Isabel Fiske Conant. -</div></div> -</div></blockquote> - -<p class="drop-cap a"><span class="smcap1">A great</span> though quiet and personal demonstration came -to Theodore Roosevelt just before he sailed for Africa. -The heart of the people turned to him with overwhelming -affection and he received, during the last week in his own -country, between fifteen and twenty thousand farewell letters. -Hundreds of mothers wrote him that they felt as if their own -son were leaving them, and that their prayers would follow him -in his wanderings; hundreds of others wrote that they would -not feel that the country would be safe until he should return—but -the “big business” men (not the “great” business men) -of Wall Street, according to the “bon mot” of some wag, “hoped -every lion would do its duty.”</p> - -<p>As my brother was leaving Oyster Bay to set sail on his great -adventure, he wrote me that he would spend one whole day with -me, except for necessary business engagements, to which engagements -I took him in my motor. And so my last memories of -the time before he sailed are, as usual, of his unfailing devotion. -On March 26 he writes again from the steamer: “Your dear -little note was handed me as I sailed, and I loved it. It was so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255">255</a></span> -good to see you as I did the day before. Darling sister, I think -of you all the time. I suppose your children told you of the -wild whirl of confusion in which I said ‘Goodbye.’ I was very -much touched by the number of acquaintances who came down -to see me off. Indeed hundreds of them were not even acquaintances. -They came in the shape of clubs, societies, delegations, -and even more, by scores of what might be called real -friends.”</p> - -<p>All through his various sea trips—these sea trips rather bored -him—he writes as follows: “There are plenty of people with -whom it is really pleasant to talk in English or in those variants -of volapuk which with me pass for French and German.” He -encloses me a photograph of Kermit and himself and Selous, -the naturalist, which shows a merry moment on one of those -same sea trips. In May of that year he writes from Juja Farm, -Nairobi:</p> - -<p>“Really, I have been so busy that I have had no time to -myself, and even have not been regularly homesick; of course, -down at bottom I am homesick the whole time, but it isn’t able -to come to the surface, so to speak, because when I am not actually -hunting, I am lying still because I am tired out.... -This house is as pretty and comfortable as possible, and my -host and hostess are the very kindest of the kind. I am sitting -on a cool verandah with vines growing over the trellises, having -just returned from a morning hunt in which I killed a python -and an impala antelope. Yesterday I killed two antelopes, and -the day before, a rhino and a hippo, and the day before that, -Kermit killed a leopard which charged him viciously after mauling -one of the beaters. I have also killed six lions,—four of them -big ones. I am sunburned and healthy, and look like a burly -and rather unkempt ruffian.</p> - -<p>“Kermit has really done very well. He is very handy, both -cool and daring, in fact, rather too daring sometimes.</p> - -<p>“Darling sister, I think of you continually, and would so -love to see you....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256">256</a></span> -Later, on his return to the same farm after an extended hunting -trip, he says:</p> - -<p>“I have worked very hard writing the articles about this -trip, and have put my heart into them, for this trip has been to -me one of absorbing interest; but of course, I haven’t any idea -whether I have written anything worth reading.</p> - -<p>“I am happy to say that I know nothing whatever of politics -at home, and I hope to keep in the same blessed state of ignorance -until I return next June. Then I shall take up political -work again, but probably not in any direct partisan sense,—that -is, I will go in with the <cite>Outlook</cite> people on such matters -as the conservation of natural resources, the control of big corporations, -and how to deal with socialism, and the like.”</p> - -<p>The above shows clearly how strong were his intentions not -to interfere in any way with the administration then in power.</p> - -<p>On June 21, in a letter headed “On Safari,” he writes:</p> - -<p>“I am so busy writing my <cite>Scribner</cite> articles that I have but -little time to write family letters, except of course, the letters to -Edith. I have had plenty to write about for <cite>Scribner’s</cite>, but it -is not always easy to write in the field, and I do not really know -how I have done it. Sometimes when I come in early from a -hunt, I just point blank refuse to write at all, and spend an hour -or two reading a book from the ‘Pigskin Library,’ which has -been the utmost possible comfort and pleasure. Fond though I -am of hunting and of wilderness life, I could not thoroughly -enjoy either if I were not able, from time to time, to turn to my -books. I am anxiously looking for news of your Helen and the -baby that is to be.</p> - -<p>“Kermit is a great pleasure to me. My trouble with him is -that he is altogether too bold,—pushing, daring, almost to recklessness.”</p> - -<p>Writing in October to my husband (there never was a more -devoted friendship than existed between him and my husband), -he says:</p> - -<p>“You old trump, Douglas. I really do believe that you are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257">257</a></span> -about the best fellow and the staunchest friend alive. Your -letter was really delightful. I am so glad Bridges told you that -they liked the <cite>Scribner</cite> articles. I only hope they guess right -as far as the public is concerned.</p> - -<p>“I hope the Robinson Minimus or Minima has arrived. [Referring -to the expected baby in my eldest son’s family.] Of course, -to go back to Henderson was terribly hard for you both at first, -but it would have been the worst possible mistake to have avoided -it or left it. The nettle had to be grasped.”</p> - -<p>What a characteristic sentence! It <em>had</em> been very hard to -go back to our old home, but, as he said, “the nettle had to be -grasped.” I don’t think in his whole life he failed to grasp any -nettle that had to be grasped. In a letter of the same date to -me he says, referring again to our sorrow: “As our lives draw -toward the end, we are sure to meet bitter sorrow, and we must -meet it undauntedly. I have just been writing Cabot and -Nannie [they had lost their talented son, the young poet George -Cabot Lodge] and again, there was nothing for me to say.... -It has been a horrible wrench for me to leave Edith during this -trip, but I am sure I have done the wise thing from every standpoint.”</p> - -<p>On January 21, 1910, as he is nearing civilization once more, -in a letter dated on the Upper Nile, he writes: “Certainly our -trip has been a complete success. If we did not shoot another -thing, it would still remain unique, for the great quantity of -skins and other scientific specimens collected for the museum; -and personally, I do not care if I do not fire off my rifle again. -I have enjoyed the trip to the full and feel that it was well -worth making. I am naturally overjoyed that I am to see Edith -in less than eight weeks, and I shall never go away from her -again if I can help it. The ‘Pigskin Library’ continues to be -a wellspring of comfort. Darling sister, I love you very much. -Your devoted brother.”</p> - -<p>On March 10, 1910, in another letter dated Upper White -Nile, he says:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258">258</a></span> -“Darling sister mine: At Gondokoro I found your welcome -letter; and on the steamer, descending the 1100 miles to Khartoum, -bumping into sand banks, and doing various odd things, -I send you this line of answer.</p> - -<p>“Joe Alsop [my only daughter had just become engaged -to Joseph Wright Alsop, of Connecticut] represents to me what -I like to think of as the ideal American citizen—pretty strong -praise, and I mean every word of it. I should be overjoyed if -Ethel married a man like him. He is the big, brave, strong, -<em>good</em> man of sound common sense, who works hard <em>in the country</em>, -who does his duty in politics, who would make a fine type -of soldier in civil war. I have always put him in the same class -with Bob Ferguson, and with Pinchot, Garfield, Cooley, and the -rest of the ‘Tennis Cabinet.’”</p> - -<p>His “Tennis Cabinet” shared the same warm corner of his -heart in which his “Rough Riders” were firmly ensconced!</p> - -<p>His last letter from the White Nile, March 14, 1910, has in -it the foreboding of what was to come. “Ugh!” he writes, “tell -Douglas that I hate the prospect of being dragged into politics -at home. I don’t like the political outlook.” Even then, although -regretting the probability, he realized the imminence of -being “dragged into politics at home.”</p> - -<p>His wonderful reception in Egypt and the admiring recognition -shown him by kings and potentates when he emerged from -his year of seclusion in the jungle are well known to the world. -Emperors and monarchs and presidents vied with each other -to do him honor, and never was there a more triumphant progress -than that of Citizen Theodore Roosevelt through the great -countries that had known him as President of the United States. -His tales later of the various potentates were amusing to the -last degree; everything he recounted was told in the most good-natured, -although humorous, spirit, and in many cases he spoke -with warm regard and even affection for the rulers who welcomed -him so warmly to their homes and lives. He referred to the King -of Italy as “a very intelligent and really good man.” He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259">259</a></span> -never felt that the Emperor of Germany was a <em>great</em> man, nor -did he change his opinion, in spite of the many courtesies shown -him by the Kaiser, although he enjoyed his experiences in Germany -and was much interested when asked to review the great -German army by the Emperor. Of all the reigning monarchs, -he seemed to think with the most affection of the King of Norway, -to whom he paid the characteristic compliment of saying that -he “would enjoy having him settle down quietly near him at -Oyster Bay,” and he also spoke with regard of Alfonso of Spain. -He gave an especially interesting account of the funeral ceremonies -of King Edward VII, to which ceremonies he was appointed -special envoy; but most of all he wrote with keen delight -of his “bird walk” through the New Forest and over the -adjacent lowlands and uplands with that fellow bird-lover, the -secretary for foreign affairs, then Sir Edward, now Earl, Grey. -Nothing could have been more characteristic of Theodore Roosevelt -than the way in which that walk had been arranged.</p> - -<p>Before he left America to plunge into the African jungle, -he wrote to Lord Bryce in England to the effect that on his return, -practically a year and a quarter from the date on which he -wrote, he would like some one versed in the bird-songs of England -to walk with him for a day at least to acquaint him with the notes -of the British feathered singers. He knew, he said, the appearance -and habits of every English bird, but had never had the -chance to match the bird to the song, and he was very anxious -to do so. Lord Bryce happened to meet Sir Edward Grey, the -secretary for foreign affairs, and laughingly mentioned the desire -on the part of President Roosevelt to make this somewhat -premature engagement, and expressed uncertainty as to whom -he could choose for the President’s companion. Sir Edward -immediately offered himself, saying that the knowledge of bird -song and lore happened to be one of his assets, but even Sir Edward -felt that the experiences with the mighty creatures of the -jungle, the excitement of the political furor aroused by a certain -speech of Theodore Roosevelt’s in Cairo, and the triumphal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260">260</a></span> -procession through other parts of Europe might, perhaps, have -effaced from his memory his desire for a walk in English woodlands. -But not at all. Sir Edward Grey himself told me, not -long ago, that on the 1st of May, 1910, several weeks before he -was expected in England, there came a note reminding the British -secretary for foreign affairs that the ex-President of the United -States wished to be his companion for twenty-four hours at least -of remote enchantment “far from the madding crowd,” and so -when the time came they started together and tramped through -the New Forest, and later over lush meadows inundated by -spring rains. Earl Grey told me that although he had often -taken this particular walk, he had never encountered the slightest -difficulty during the transit, but to be with Theodore Roosevelt -was synonymous with adventure of some kind. While -traversing a usually innocuous meadow, they suddenly came -upon a piece of flooded lowland, in this particular case so flooded -that unless they deflected or retraced their steps, it would mean -walking breast-high in water for some distance. The secretary -for foreign affairs referred the decision about the situation to the -ex-President of the United States, and, needless to say, the man -who was accustomed to swim the Potomac River in his stride, did -<em>not</em> deflect his course because of the flooded English meadow. -Later, as they stood under a tree drying themselves in the afternoon -sunshine, a very sweet, delicate song was heard. My -brother’s keen ears caught the trickling notes, and turning with -vivid interest to his companion, he said: “Of all the songs we -have heard to-day, that is the only one which resembles in any degree -an American-bird song,” and he listened eagerly as the obliging -bird repeated its dainty music. “That,” said Earl Grey, -“is the crested wren.” “It is a wren also that sings like that -in America,” said my brother. Earl Grey was very much interested -in this, and a few days afterward, meeting a great bird -expert in the British Museum, he repeated the remark of my -brother in connection with the fact that the crested wren’s song -was the only one of any English bird resembling the song of an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261">261</a></span> -American bird, and the expert confirmed what my brother had -said.</p> - -<p>Mr. John Burroughs used to say, although he had given his -whole life to ornithology, that Theodore Roosevelt, to whom -in later years it became only a recreation, was almost as well -informed on the subject as he was.</p> - -<p>In June, 1910, he returned from Europe, and never in the -annals of American history has such a reception been accorded -to a private citizen. Frankly, I do not think that Theodore -Roosevelt was ever regarded as a <em>private</em> citizen; he was always -a public possession! What a day it was! We went to meet -him in a special launch, and from the moment of his landing -until he finally reached his beloved home at Oyster Bay there -was nothing but one great call of delight from his fellow citizens -to the man who still stood to them for the whole of America. -His triumphs, the adulation which he had received from foreign -countries, epitomized to them the regard and respect poured -out to the United States by those other countries of the world. -The great crowds of his waving, cheering fellow citizens lined -the avenue of his triumphant progress, but when he finally joined -us at the house at which the family were assembled as a vantage-point, -he seemed just the same sweet, simple, joyous, and unostentatious -comrade as of yore.</p> - -<p>That very first day he gave us the most amusing accounts of -some of his European experiences, humorously describing informal -lunches in Buckingham Palace, when the children of King -George and Queen Mary behaved very much as “young America” -is accustomed to behave. He also gave us what our family -has always been pleased to term a “personal charade” of certain -events, especially one moment when the Kaiser behaved rather -like an arrogant schoolboy to one of the other royalties. He -laughingly referred to a message from the Kaiser during his -stay in London, when the above potentate sent him word that -he, William, would be glad to give him (ex-President Roosevelt) -three-quarters of an hour the next day of his precious time!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262">262</a></span> -And ex-President Roosevelt in return sent him a rapid message -saying that <em>he</em> would be delighted to see William, but he regretted -that he could only give him twenty-five minutes! He regaled -us for a long while with many such amusing stories, and then -went home to his beloved Sagamore Hill.</p> - -<p>The following day an incident occurred which had a certain -prophetic quality about it. A great dinner was to be given to -him by Robert Collier, and as usual with his loving thought of -me (I had just returned from a trip around the world and was -in very ill health) he wished to come to my house to spend the -night so as to see me. He arranged to be with me at five o’clock -in the afternoon, thus to have a long, quiet talk before the dinner. -I came in from the country and had afternoon tea waiting for -him in my library. A half-hour passed, and then another half-hour, -and I began to get distinctly nervous, because he was the -most prompt of individuals. At a little after six he arrived looking -jaded and worried, and as he took his cup of tea, he turned to -me and said: “A very unpleasant thing happened which made -me late. As you see, I am dressed perfectly inconspicuously, -and I slipped into Scribners [his publishers] a little before five -to say a word or two about my ‘African Game Trails.’ [Scribners -at that time was situated at 22d Street and Fifth Avenue.] -When I went in there was no crowd at all, but somebody must -have seen me enter the bookstore, and when I came out a short -while afterward, a huge crowd had assembled, and literally would -not let me pass. They wanted to carry me on their shoulders; -they wanted to do utterly impossible and objectionable things; -and I realized at once that this was not the friendly reception -of yesterday, but that it represented a certain hysterical quality -which boded ill for my future. <em>That type</em> of crowd, feeling <em>that</em> -kind of way, means that within a very short time they will be -throwing rotten eggs at me. I may be on the crest of the wave -now, but mark my words, the attitude of that crowd means -that they will soon try to help me into the trough of the wave.” -He was so impressed by this incident that that night at the Collier<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263">263</a></span> -dinner he repeated and enlarged upon the theme of the -crest and the trough of the wave.</p> - -<p>Yet, in looking back over my brother’s life, I do not think -it can be said that in the true sense of the word he ever experienced -the trough of the wave. The great movement which resulted -in the Progressive party, instigated by internal dissensions -in the Republican party, brought Democratic rule into our country, -but, although he was defeated for public office, it did not -throw him into the trough of the wave, for in reality he emerged -from that great movement the leader of the majority of the Republican -party, as was shown on Election day in November, -1912, when the vote for Theodore Roosevelt was infinitely larger -than that cast for the “regular” Republican candidate, William -Howard Taft.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264">264</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="XIV"></a>XIV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE GREAT DENIAL</span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who would not be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A baffled Moses with the eyes to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The far fruition of the Promised Land!<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—C. R. R. -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="p1 b2 poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How can we manage with our Brother gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We smaller folk who looked to him to voice our voicelessness?<br /></span> -</div> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We do not call him to come back from that free plane where now he moves <span class="locked">untrammeled—</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Un-beset by littleness, by envy of his power to read our hearts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blazon forth the message that he found there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that those in highest place among us needs must hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heed the will of us—the silent ones—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who work, and think, and feel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And are America.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Gene Stanton Baker. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Theodore</span> Roosevelt had been at home but a few -short weeks when he realized fully that the policies so -dear to his heart, and which he had left in what he considered -absolutely safe-keeping, had not been carried out. Already, -in Congress, a large number of the younger Republicans -had combined together as what were then called “The Insurgents.” -In other words, the men who had fully believed in the -policies of Theodore Roosevelt, who felt that no proper progress -could be made toward better government of the United States unless -those policies were followed, had met on all sides with great -disappointment; and although the ex-President had hoped to -keep as absolutely “out of politics” as he had done in the African -jungle, these disheartened and disappointed men, representing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265">265</a></span> -largely the younger and more ardent spirits of his country, turned -to him for leadership. These reminiscences of my brother are -not a biography, nor are they a political analysis of his public -life, and I must therefore pass over many occurrences, the most -important of which was his effort in the autumn of 1910 to defeat -the Barnes-Tammany combination in New York State by running -Mr. Henry L. Stimson for governor, which finally resulted -in the position he took in January, 1912.</p> - -<p>During the eighteen months previous he had been contributing -editor of <cite>The Outlook</cite>, and my letters from him in 1911 were -few and far between, as we were frequently together. They -were, as usual, full of deep interest in and affection for me and -mine, and as at that time I began to publish verse, first anonymously -and then under my own name, he gives me generous -praise in a note dated August 21, 1911: “I saw B. the other -day. He told me about the acceptance of your second poem, -and spoke most strongly about it, and he, just like everyone -else who has talked to me about the poem, dwelt upon its power -and purpose. [The poem in question was “The Call of Brotherhood.”] -It is not merely pretty, pleasant, trivial, the kind of -thing a boy or girl of twenty could have written; it is written -about and for those who have toiled and suffered and worked, -and who have known defeat and triumph; and it is written by -one of them.” In his busy life, called upon endlessly in every -direction, he never failed to encourage any effort of mine worthy -of encouragement, nor indeed to discourage any effort of mine -of which he did not approve. “If convenient,” he adds, “I will -come in about five next Friday for an hour’s talk with you and -to see the other verses. I am sending you a zebra skin which I -hope you will like.”</p> - -<p>On October 5, 1911, he writes, referring to a political situation -in Herkimer County, where my son had run for state assemblyman, -and where certain unsavory methods had been -used to defeat him (later, through legal procedure, he was given -his seat): “Teddy has been defrauded by as outrageous a piece<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266">266</a></span> -of political scoundrelism as I have ever known. Of course, this -scoundrelism could succeed, only because last year, the big business -men, the great ‘Conservatives,’ and professional ‘Intellectuals’ -and the like, joined in securing the victory of Tammany -at the polls, and the consequent enthronement of the Barnes-Sherman -crowd in our party. If only we could have elected -Harry Stimson for governor, there would not have been an effort -made to handle Teddy as he has been handled.” Already his -indignation was beginning to wax hot against certain methods -much in vogue in the Republican party at that time.</p> - -<p>He had had no intention of running for the presidential -nomination in 1912, and, indeed, in the autumn of 1911 told -many of his most faithful supporters that he was very much -averse to doing so; but already a swelling tide of disapproval -of the Taft administration had increased in volume to such an -extent that it swept over a large part of the country. The Insurgents -pleaded for a definite leadership, and to them, and to -many who did not call themselves by that name, there was but -one leader whom they were willing to follow, and that was Theodore -Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>The force of this great wave culminated in the letter of the -seven governors in January, 1912, a letter in which those same -seven governors begged him to take, openly, the leadership of -Progressive Republicanism, and to allow his name to be used -as a presidential nominee in the June convention of 1912. Just -before that letter was published, he writes in his usual sweet -way in connection with a visit which he and Mrs. Roosevelt -had intended to pay me in New York (they were at Sagamore -Hill). After speaking of an illness which prevented Mrs. Roosevelt -from coming to me, he said, knowing that I had made certain -engagements for them: “Do you wish to have me come -alone? Do exactly what you think best. I will be in for Tuesday -night in any case, and will be at your house as agreed. I -don’t know when I have ever enjoyed anything more than my -lunch at Fannie’s [our dear friend Mrs. James Russell Parsons],<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267">267</a></span>—it -was a real feast of Lucullus,—only far better.” This letter -is very boyish and content with friends and family, and most -unlike a man absorbed in schemes of sinister usurpation, schemes -of which he was so soon to be accused.</p> - -<p>In the library at my own house in New York City, a fateful -meeting took place shortly after this last letter came. I confess -to having had serious doubts as to what his answer should be -to that request of the seven governors. Personally, I felt the -sacrifice asked of him was almost too great. I realized perfectly -the great struggle before him and all that it probably would -mean, and it seemed to me that he had already given all that was -required of just such service to his beloved country. But, just as -he felt in 1898 that, having preached war upon Spain, he must -take active part in that war, so in 1912 he came to feel strongly -that, having inaugurated certain policies as President which -had not been carried out by his successor—having preached -the necessity for industrial legislation which had not been -backed by those in public authority—it was his duty to bare his -breast to the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” and -accept the position of leader of Progressive Republicanism in -order to try to translate into practical reality the ideals which -he had upheld before his countrymen. His answer to the seven -governors pledged himself to such leadership, and the great -upheaval of 1912 took place.</p> - -<p>Never before in his varied career had Theodore Roosevelt -felt such a sense of loneliness, for many of his nearest and dearest -friends were not in sympathy with some of his beliefs in 1912. -I shall never forget the great meeting at Carnegie Hall, when -he proclaimed “the faith that was in him.” He was like an inspired -crusader that night when he cast away the notes from -which he had occasionally been reading and made the magnificent -peroration in which he proclaimed the fact that his doctrine -was “Spend and Be Spent,” and that no man worthy the -name of man would not be willing to be an instrument for the -success of his ideals—a broken instrument if need be. He returned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268">268</a></span> -after that thrilling speech to my house, and we sat a -long while talking over the serious step he had taken and the -possibilities the future held for him, and I felt that there was -a sense of dedication about him such as I believe the martyrs -of old must have felt.</p> - -<p>In spite of the storm that broke around him after this -declaration, in spite of the manifold activities into which he immediately -cast himself, he takes the time to write to me, March -5, 1912, when my infant grandchild, born the month before, had -died of whooping-cough: “My darling Sister: You have indeed -been through the waters of bitterness. The little baby! -I love little babies so, and I think of my own little granddaughter, -and I mourn with you and Douglas. Now, I think -only with a pang of our lovely day last Sunday. [We had spent -that Sunday with him at Oyster Bay.] If I could have come up -to Albany I would have done so. Ever your devoted brother.”</p> - -<p>The great convention of 1912 took place, and through the -ruling of the chairman certain delegates pledged to Theodore -Roosevelt were deprived of their seats, a ruling which meant -his defeat as Republican candidate. I was ill at the time and -could not be present on that epoch-making occasion. I only -know that its result after the above ruling was considered by -my brother absolutely inevitable, and that he never regarded -that result, as did so many people, as the most unfortunate circumstance -of his life. Writing a year and a half later for the -<cite>Century Magazine</cite>, in October, 1913, he says: “Fundamentally -the reason for the existence of the Progressive Party was found -in two facts: first, the absence of real distinctions between the -old parties which correspond <em>to</em> those parties; and, second, the -determined refusal of the men in control of both parties to use -the party organizations and their control of the Government, -for the purpose of dealing with the problems really vital to our -people.... A party which alternately nominated Mr. Bryan -and Mr. Parker for President, and a party wherein Messrs. Penrose, -LaFollette, and Smoot, stand as the three brothers of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269">269</a></span> -leadership, can by no possibility supply the need of this country -for efficient and coherent governmental action as regards the -really vital questions of the day.” In the same article he proceeds -to analyze the reasons for the formation of the Progressive -Party, and continues:</p> - -<p>“The problems connected with the trusts, the problems connected -with child labor, and all similar matters can be solved -only by affirmative national action. No party is progressive -which does not set the authority of the National Government -as supreme in these matters. No party is progressive which -does not give to the people the right to determine for themselves, -after due opportunity for deliberation, but without endless -difficulty and delay, what the standards of social and industrial -justice shall be; and, furthermore, the right to insist -upon the servants of the people, legislative and judicial alike, -paying heed to the wishes of the people as to what the law -of the land shall be. The Progressive party believes with -Thomas Jefferson, with Andrew Jackson, with Abraham Lincoln, -that this is a government of the people, to be used for the -people, so as to better the condition of the average man and -average woman of the nation in the intimate and homely concerns -of their daily lives; and thus to use the government means -that it must be used after the manner of Hamilton and Lincoln -to serve the purposes of Jefferson and Lincoln.</p> - -<p>“We are for the people’s rights. Where these rights can -best be obtained by exercise of the powers of the State, there -we are for <em>States’</em> rights. Where they can best be obtained by -the exercise of the powers of the <em>National</em> Government, there -we are for <em>National</em> rights. We are not interested in this as an -abstract doctrine; we are interested in it concretely.... We -believe in the principle of a living wage. We hold that it is ruinous -for <em>all</em> our people, if <em>some</em> of our people are forced to subsist -on a wage such that body and soul alike are stunted.”</p> - -<p>Referring to the Industrial and Social Justice plank of the -platform of the Progressive party, he continues:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270">270</a></span> -“The propositions are definite and concrete. They represent -for the first time in our political history the specific and -reasoned purpose of a great party to use the resources of the -government in sane fashion for industrial betterment....</p> - -<p>“To sum up, then, our position is, after all, simple. We -believe that the government should concern itself chiefly with -the matters that are of most importance to the average man -and average woman, and that it should be its special province -to aid in making the conditions of life easier for these ordinary -men and ordinary women, who compose the great bulk of our -people. To this end we believe that the people should have -direct control over their own governmental agencies, and that -when this control has been secured, it should be used with resolution, -but with sanity and self-restraint, in the effort to make -conditions fairer and better for the men and women of the -nation.”</p> - -<p>I have inserted this quotation from his own writings in 1913, -for it gives clearly the objects and aims of that party, born at -Chicago amid scenes of almost religious enthusiasm in June, -1912, nor did that enthusiasm wane for one single moment -during the following months; on the contrary, it rose to the -heights of dedication.</p> - -<p>There were some who lost their sense of proportion, but by -far the greater number of those who followed Theodore Roosevelt -in that extraordinary campaign were imbued with a high -sense of a “Great Cause,” a cause which had never before been -translated into the common sense of possible achievement. The -New York State Progressive Convention met at Syracuse, and -at that assemblage I was able to be present, and whatever doubts -might have been in my breast before were swept away by a -deep conviction of the fact that the Progressive Party was the -true interpretation of the highest ideal of democracy.</p> - -<p>Just about the time of the Progressive Convention at Syracuse, -an article appeared, written by a citizen of Unadilla, -N. Y., C. C. Penny by name, in which the above citizen gives<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271">271</a></span> -the reasons which induced him to vote for “Teddy,” as he -affectionately calls the colonel.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="in0"> -“<i>To the Editor of the Utica Daily Press</i>:— -</p> - -<p>“Having had the question put up to me as to what Roosevelt -has ever done politically to better conditions, I would submit -the following: First,—What did Mr. Roosevelt do as President -that he should not have done in the public interest, or that -was dangerous or hurtful to business? Mr. Roosevelt’s intervention -in the coal strike benefited all consumers; Mr. Roosevelt -is responsible for the Pure Food and Drugs Act; the open -door to American commerce with China; the settlement of the -Russo-Japan War; Panama Canal project; conservation of -natural resources; reduction of interest-bearing debt by more -than ninety million dollars; settlement of the Alaska boundary -dispute; an act calling for the extension of forest reserves; national -irrigation act; employers’ liability act; safety appliances -and regulation of railroad employees’ hours of labor.—Was Mr. -Roosevelt’s work in bringing about the settlement of the Russo-Japan -War dangerous and hurtful to business? Was Roosevelt’s -Panama Canal project dangerous and hurtful to business? -Was his movement for the conservation of our natural -resources dangerous and hurtful to business? These are a few -of the things which he suggested and carried through with the -help of his followers. Besides, he recommended many other reforms -such as Postal Savings Bank, Parcels Post, and Inheritance -Tax and Income Tax which he had not time to carry -through during his last term.</p> - -<p>“All these, it seems to me, are reforms to better the conditions -of the great mass of people. The Progressive platform -has been growing for the last sixteen years all through the Northwest, -and West and South, only waiting for a man to come out, -bold enough to take the lead. Mr. Roosevelt, it seems, has dared -to take this step, and whether we win or lose, it is a step forward -to the betterment of the conditions of all who toil and consume.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272">272</a></span> -I have always voted the Republican ticket, but I consider that -true Republican principles at this time rest with the Progressive -Party, and I shall vote for that party this Fall, and for Teddy, -win or lose.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>In October that year my volume of poems called by the title -of its first poem, “The Call of Brotherhood,” was published, -and my brother writes me at once, though in the midst of pressing -duties: “I love ‘The Call of Brotherhood’; somehow it seems -to express just what we are now battling for in the political arena. -Well, the feeling, the longing, the desire, the determination you -have made throb in these poems, also make it impossible for us -to sit in fat content and not strive for better things in <em>actual -life</em>. When we felt rather inarticulately just what you have -written, we simply couldn’t refrain from the effort [he refers -to the Progressive Party] as a practical means to realize high -ideals. That is what we must do with high ideals,—apply them -and try to live up to them, and to make them work.—Joe and -Teddy have done wonderful work; and so has Douglas.... I -seem to have cost my friends much in all kinds of ways in this -campaign; that was one of the reasons why I so hated to go -into it.” Many people misjudged his motives and thought that -he went into it for selfish purposes; never was there a more mistaken -conception of the actions of a patriot.</p> - -<p>In a letter written September 1, he says: “I am just leaving -for the West. It has been a very interesting fight, and never -was there a fight better worth making, but the exertion is tremendous, -and I look forward to Election Day as the end of a -battle.”</p> - -<p>During that Western trip, he had one of his greatest personal -ovations. One of the Western newspapers says:</p> - -<p>“In Portland, Oregon, the city practically stopped business -and turned out to receive its guest. In each city, the personal -element of the greeting was remarkable. No one was thinking -of Colonel Roosevelt in connection with his past office as President.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273">273</a></span> -He was ‘Roosevelt.’ It was ‘Hello Teddy’ and ‘Hurrah -for Teddy’ everywhere along the densely packed streets where -he appeared. His speeches to these multitudes were neither -original nor new, but the people understood them. The enthusiasm -of these western cities for the ex-President seems almost -fabulous. At Portland, hundreds of school children escorted -the automobile. Women brought their children, cripples were -wheeled to horse blocks, men climbed on cornices and pediments, -mothers of twins pressed to the side of the car, people literally -blackened sidewalks, residence verandas, windows of houses, -even the trees. At Tacoma a woman was heard to remark, ‘If -this ex-President has lost his popularity, I would hate to be in -a crowd that had gathered to see an ex-President who had <em>not</em> -lost his popularity,’—and everywhere he preached the common-sense -<span class="locked">doctrine:—</span></p> - -<p>“Now friends, what I have said to you is pretty elementary,—so -elementary that it comes mighty near being commonplace, -but I will tell you that the truths that really count are -the elementary truths. The individual whom we respect is not -merely the brilliant individual. The man whom we wish our -sons to resemble is the man who has the ordinary virtues developed -to more than the ordinary degree.”</p> - -<p>He himself believed that he was not a man of genius but -only a man with average talents, talents which by sheer determination -and will-power he had developed to a more than ordinary -degree.</p> - -<p>Shortly after the ovation in Oregon, he writes on September -15 from San Francisco: “Of course this trip is inconceivably -wearing, but what a fine fight it is, anyhow!” To him it was a -great crusade for the right, and his soul was at white heat in -the cause of righteousness.</p> - -<p>Later came the dramatic moment in Milwaukee when he -received in his breast the bullet of a would-be assassin. He protected -the man, believing him to be insane, from the angry crowd -who would have gladly torn him limb from limb; and then<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274">274</a></span> -proceeded, though bleeding from an open wound, to make what -he fully believed would probably be the last speech that he would -ever make in this world. The doctors could not influence him -to give up the speech, for he said that should it prove to be his -last, it was all the more important that he should make it. But, -thank Heaven, it was not his last!</p> - -<p>During his convalescence in the hospital in Chicago, he sent -me one of his sympathetic letters about another recently published -poem, and also replied to a letter from Sir George -Trevelyan as follows: “I must say I have never understood -public men who got nervous about assassination. For the last -eleven years I have, of course, thoroughly understood that I -might at any time be shot, and probably <em>would</em> be shot sometime. -I think I have come off uncommonly well. What I cannot -understand is any serious-minded public man not being so -absorbed in the great, vital questions with which he has to deal, -as to exclude thoughts of assassination. I don’t think this is -a matter of courage at all. I think it a question of the major -interest driving out the minor interest. Exactly as with the -army,—a private may have qualms,—hot so a General. He is -responsible for more than his personal safety. It is not a question -of courage, it is a question of perspective, of proper proportion.” -Nothing has ever been more in keeping with the actions -of Theodore Roosevelt than the above sentence: “it is a question -of the major interest driving out the minor interest.” With -him, all through his life, the sense of proportion was a prominent -part of his make-up. The “major interest” always drove out -the “minor interest,” and so strong was his sense of responsibility, -so absorbed was he in the great affairs of his country, that -the thought of possible assassination never entered his valiant -breast.</p> - -<p>The greatest moment of all that inspiring period of his life -came late in October, at the end of the campaign, when Theodore -Roosevelt, the bullet still in his breast, but miraculously -restored to health and strength, came to the city of his birth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275">275</a></span> -to make the final speech of the Progressive campaign at Madison -Square Garden. Not only was the spirit of the Crusade -higher than ever, but the danger so lately experienced by their -leader had given to his followers an exaltation never surpassed -at any time in our political history. I have always been glad -that for some unexplained reason the pass which had been -given to me that night for my motor was not accepted by the -policeman in charge, and I, my husband, my son Monroe, and -our friend Mrs. Parsons were obliged to take our places in the -cheering, laughing, singing crowd which formed in line many -blocks below the Garden to walk up to the entrance-door. -How it swayed and swung! how it throbbed with life and elation! -how imbued it was with an earnest party ambition, and -yet, with a deep and genuine religious fervor. Had I lived my -whole life only for those fifteen minutes during which I marched -toward the Garden already full to overflowing with my brother’s -adoring followers, I should have been content to do so. We -could hardly get into the building, and indeed had to climb -up the fire-escape, which we were only allowed to do after -making it well known that I was the sister of the “Colonel.” -(There never was but one “Colonel” in American history!) -The whole meeting was one of an ineffable and intense emotional -quality. We could hear the singing and the cheers of the -thousands outside on the street, as inside my brother came -forward to the platform, and the vast audience rose to its feet -to acclaim its hero. Such moments do not often occur in a lifetime, -and when they do, they leave in their wake a wonderful -sense of what the highest type of religion should mean—a religion -selfless as the Christlike faith upon which all true religion -is founded.</p> - -<p>A few days later, Woodrow Wilson, the Democratic though -minority candidate, was elected President of the United States.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276">276</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="XV"></a>XV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">WHISPERINGS OF WAR</span></h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center larger">SAGAMORE HILL</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He is a moose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarred, battered from the hunters, thickets, stones:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some finest tips of antlers broken off,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyes where images of ancient things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flit back and forth across them, keeping still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A certain slumberous indifference,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wisdom, it may be.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Edgar Lee Masters. -</div></div> -</div></blockquote> - -<div class="b2 poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rightly to be great<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is not to stir, without great argument,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But greatly to find quarrel in a straw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Honour’s at the stake.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Hamlet. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">No</span> man in America ever received the backing of so large -a personal following as did Theodore Roosevelt in the -election of 1912, but owing to the fact that opinion was -divided, the Democratic party, although a minority party, was -put in power. It has been the habit of some to speak of -my brother as having split the Republican party. This has -always seemed to me an unfair criticism. It was proved by -the actual vote at the polls that the larger half of what up to -that time had been the Republican party was in favor of Theodore -Roosevelt for President. His majority over Mr. Taft was -unquestioned. A minority, not a majority, disrupts a party. -Nothing is truer, however, than that a really great man cannot -be defeated. He can lose official position, he can see the office -which he craved because of its potential power for right doing -pass into the hands of another; but in the higher sense of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277">277</a></span> -word he cannot be defeated if his object has been righteousness, -if his inner vision has been the true betterment of his country.</p> - -<p>And so during the years that followed 1912, Theodore Roosevelt, -although holding no official position, became more than -ever the leader of a great portion of the people of America. Loyal -as he was, he felt that having (as he phrased it) “led a vast -army into the wilderness,” he must stand by them through -thick and thin.</p> - -<p>In 1913, having been asked to make certain addresses in -South America, he decided to accept the invitation. But before -sailing he went to Rochester, N. Y., to make a speech, and -arranged that my husband and I should meet him and have -an evening quietly with him. Immediately after that there -was a great farewell dinner to him in New York, at the Hotel -Astor. The crowd was suffocating. It seemed as if the enthusiasm -for him and for Progressive principles was even more -poignant than the year before—perhaps the realization that their -leader was to leave them, even for a comparatively short time, -increased the ardor of the convictions of his followers—and the -spirit of that evening was so vital, so dedicated in quality, that -it will never fade from my mind. The next day he and Mrs. -Roosevelt sailed for the Argentine Republic, and within a few -months she returned home, and he again lost himself in a new -adventure. The little boy of six in the nursery at 20th Street -had read with fervent interest of the adventures of the great -explorer Livingston. He had achieved his ambition to follow -those adventures as a mighty hunter in Africa; he had achieved -many another ambition, but none was more intense with him -than the desire to put a so-called “River of Doubt” on the map -of the world.</p> - -<p>Again Kermit was his companion, and the latter has given, -as no one else could give, the most vivid description of that trip -in his book called “The Happy Hunting Grounds.” In that -book he describes his father’s desperate illness, and his heroic -and unflinching courage when, with a temperature of one hundred<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278">278</a></span> -and five, he struggled on through the mazes of the jungle, -weak and weary, unselfishly begging his companions to leave -him to die, for he felt that his condition endangered the possibility -of their escape alive from their difficulties. As in Africa, -so in South America his tireless energy, even when weakened by -illness, never failed to accomplish his purpose, and not only did -he put the “River of Doubt” on the map—a river which from -that time forth was called Rio Teodoro, after Theodore Roosevelt, -the explorer—but during those suffering, exhausting weeks -he never once failed to keep his promise to his publishers, and -to write, on the spot, the incidents of each day’s adventures. -Robert Bridges, of Scribners, has shown me the water-soaked -manuscript, written in my brother’s own handwriting, of that -extraordinary expedition. In several places on the blotched -sheets he makes a deprecatory note—“This is not written very -clearly; my temperature is 105.” Such perseverance, such persistence -are really superhuman; but perhaps it is also true that -the <em>human</em> being must eventually pay the price of what the -superman achieves.</p> - -<p>Theodore Roosevelt returned from that Brazilian trip a man -in whom a secret poison still lurked, and although his wonderful -vitality, his magnificent strength of character, mind, and -body, seemed at times to restore him to the perfect health of -former days, he was never wholly free from recurrent attacks -of the terrible jungle fever, which resulted in ill health of various -kinds, and finally in his death.</p> - -<p>True to his loyal convictions, he was determined to give all -the aid possible to the candidates on the Progressive ticket for -the election of 1914. His wife writes, August, 1914: “Theodore -seems really better, although I scarcely think he will have voice -for the three speeches he has planned for the last of the month. -I asked him if I could say anything from him about the War, -and he simply threw up his hands in despair.” This letter was -written nine days after the cataclysm of the Great War had -broken upon the world. From the beginning he said to his family<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279">279</a></span> -what he did not feel he could state publicly, owing to the fact -that he did not wish to embarrass President Wilson. Having -been President himself, he knew it was possible for one in high -authority to have information which he could not immediately -share with all the people, and he hoped this might be the reason -of President Wilson’s failure to make any protest when the -enemy troops invaded Belgium.</p> - -<p>To his family, however, he spoke frankly and always with -deep regret that the President enjoined a neutral attitude in -the beginning. He felt, from the very first, that the Allies were -fighting our battles; that the British fleet was the protector -of the United States as much as it was the protector of Great -Britain; that a protest should have immediately been made -by the United States when the Germans marched through Belgium. -All these views he stated to his family and to his friends, -but for the first few months after August 1, 1914, he felt that, -as an influential citizen, he might hurt the fulfilment of whatever -plan the President might have in view in connection with -the Allies were he openly to criticise the President’s course of -action. Later in the war he told me how much he regretted -that, from a high sense of duty toward the Executive, he had -controlled himself during those first few months when we were -asked by President Wilson to be neutral even in thought.</p> - -<p>In my sister-in-law’s letter, quoted above, she speaks of her -doubt as to whether my brother would be strong enough to make -the speeches which he had agreed to make. The Philadelphia <cite>North -American</cite> published, about that time, an editorial called “The -Amazing Roosevelt,” a few paragraphs of which run as follows:</p> - -<p>“On April 30th, there came out of the seething jungles of -Brazil to a river port 1000 miles up the Amazon, a man who was -heralded by cable dispatches as broken in body and permanently -impaired in mind.... On his arrival at home, there -were grave dicta from former critics that never again would -this man be a force in public life. The solemnity of these pronouncements -scarcely concealed the gratification which they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280">280</a></span> -gave to some who promulgated them. Unbiassed stories of the -hardships suffered in the tropical forests appeared to be cumulative -evidence to support the belief that Theodore Roosevelt -was ‘done for’ as a factor in public life.</p> - -<p>“A sick man had virtually dragged himself through the most -obdurate jungle still unmapped.... It had looked as if the -entire party might be sacrificed and he had begged his followers -to go on and leave him to take care of himself. On his return, -he was warned by an eminent specialist that he must eschew -speech-making if he hoped to avoid permanent injury to his -throat. Another specialist warned him that impaired vital -organs necessitated his withdrawing altogether from public -activities. This was the Roosevelt who went to Pittsburgh to -speak to the Progressives of Pennsylvania this week. What was -it the Progressives gathered there to hear? Was it a swan song,—was -it the plea of a broken man,—what was the character of -the gathering? Was it a congregation of saddened and disheartened -people, come to pay a kindly tribute to a passing leader? -It was none of these things. The demonstration for Roosevelt -and Progressive principles surpassed anything in the 1912 campaign, -and the Roosevelt who greeted this great demonstration -was the vigorous, fighting Roosevelt who so long had led the -people’s battles. He was never received with more enthusiasm. -The New York <cite>Times</cite>, not a paper in favor of Colonel Roosevelt, -said: ‘The Pennsylvania Progressives gave Colonel Roosevelt -a welcome tonight which must have reminded him of 1912. The -demonstration was a remarkable one.’ And <cite>The World</cite> said: -‘The Colonel enjoyed every minute. Malaria was forgotten -and all physical weakness along with it as he stood at the vortex -of the night’s enthusiasm.’</p> - -<p>“No one can read the speech which Roosevelt made that -night without being convinced that the dismal forebodings that -came out of that Amazon port last April, have already been -discredited, and that the man who in 1912 stood with an assassin’s -bullet near his heart, and insisted upon delivering a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281">281</a></span> -message which might be his last, is not to be broken or even -impaired in 1914 by the hardships of a South American jungle. -It is but another example of the amazing Roosevelt.”</p> - -<p>That same autumn of 1914 he came to our old home in Herkimer -County once more, but this time he was the guest of my -son Theodore Douglas Robinson, and stayed at his house, which -adjoins the old home. From there Mrs. Parsons and he and I -joined the candidate for governor on the Progressive ticket, -State Senator Frederick A. Davenport, and former State Senator -Newcomb, for a short speaking tour to uphold the candidacy -of Senator Davenport. We knew there was very little hope of -success, but my brother had recuperated apparently from the -Brazilian trip, and we spent two merry days dashing through -Herkimer and Otsego counties. In spite of anxiety and a deep -sense of distress about Old World conditions, for a brief moment -we threw off all care, and in the glorious autumn sunshine, -followed by cheering crowds, we enjoyed one of the triumphal -processions which were almost always a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">sine qua non</i> wherever -he appeared. One specially merry afternoon and evening was -spent at the home of James Fenimore Cooper. My brother -was to speak at Cooperstown in the afternoon, and Mr. Cooper -invited us to dinner, but I told him that the party must reach -Oneonta for dinner, so that we could only take afternoon tea -at his house. I had not confided this refusal to Theodore, simply -taking it for granted that it would be impossible for us to accept -the Cooper invitation and reach Oneonta in time for his evening -speech. The Cooper home, full of treasures that had descended -from Mr. Cooper’s grandfather, the author of “The Last -of the Mohicans,” etc., and equally full of charming people, gave -us so warm a welcome, and we had such an agreeable time there, -that my brother was very loath to leave, but at 6.30 I insisted -that we must start for Oneonta. We were already in the motors -when Mr. Cooper, leaning over to say good-by, assured Colonel -Roosevelt of his regret that he could not stay to dinner. “Dinner?” -said my brother. “I didn’t know I was asked to dinner.”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282">282</a></span> -“Yes, you were, of course,” said Mr. Cooper; “but your sister, -Mrs. Robinson, refused to let you stay for dinner, saying that -you would have to reach Oneonta at 8 o’clock.” “May I ask,” -said my brother in a high falsetto, “what business my sister, Mrs. -Robinson, had to refuse a dinner invitation for me?” And, with a -bound, he leaped from the automobile, shaking, laughingly, his -fist at me, and said, “Dinner with the Coopers! Well, of course, -I am going to stay to dinner,” and returned rapidly to the -house, followed meekly by his party. The hospitable and resourceful -Coopers, who naturally, after my refusal, had not expected -seven extra people to dinner, turned in, assisted by Theodore -himself, and proceeded to scramble eggs and broil bacon, -much to the amusement and delight of the cook, who had never -had an ex-President in her kitchen before, and of all the merry -dinner-parties that I have ever attended, that one, forced upon -the delightful Fenimore Coopers, was about the merriest.</p> - -<p>Senator Davenport had been in poor health at the time, -and my brother called him entirely “Little Eva,” after the -angel child of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” -both because of his rather transparent appearance and his -high-minded principles (upon which the Colonel dilated in his -speeches). He called himself “Uncle Tom,” and Senator Newcomb -“Simon Legree,” and those cognomens and no others -were used throughout the entire trip, which proved a veritable -holiday.</p> - -<p>But neither that trip nor any other trip could have changed -the fate of the Progressive candidates in 1914, and New York -State showed at election time, as did various other states in -the country, that America was not prepared for a third party, -even though that party stood, more than did any other party, -for the practical common sense and high idealism of Theodore -Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>Just before Election day I accompanied him to Princeton, -where Doctor John Grier Hibben, president of the university, -received him with distinction, and asked him to speak to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283">283</a></span> -body of students there not only on political faiths but on “Preparedness.” -Unless I am very much mistaken, the first speech -on that subject in the United States during the Great War was -that very address made in the auditorium of Princeton in November, -1914, by my brother. His young and eager listeners -among the student body applauded him to the echo. The -cause of preparedness and true Americanism had no stancher -upholder at that time, nor in the difficult years to come, than -President Hibben of Princeton University. Theodore Roosevelt, -Henry Cabot Lodge, Leonard Wood, John Grier Hibben, Augustus -P. Gardner, and other far-seeing patriots, stood from the -beginning for the Allies against the Huns, and for “Preparedness” -of a thorough kind. Had their advice been followed, -Germany would very soon have sensed how formidable an influence -in the war America could be. I am convinced there -would have been no sinking of the <i>Lusitania</i>, and hundreds of -thousands of gallant young men would not have lost their lives -on Flanders Fields.</p> - -<p>On November 12, 1914, after Election day, my brother writes -me: “Darling Corinne:—That is a very dear letter of yours! -I shall make no further statement. Did you see my quotation -from Timothy II, Chapter 4, verses 3 and 4? It covers the -whole situation. Ever yours, Theodore Roosevelt.”</p> - -<p>The verses referred to are as follows:</p> - -<p>(3) For the time will come when they will not endure sound -doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves -teachers, having itching ears;</p> - -<p>(4) And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and -shall be turned unto fables.</p> - -<p>He was very apt to sum up a situation in some pregnant -verse from the Bible.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1915 was trying to him in certain ways, especially -on account of the Barnes libel suit. He had made the -statement that Mr. Barnes had, politically, a bipartisan attitude, -and indeed more than attitude, and Mr. Barnes decided<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284">284</a></span> -to bring a suit for libel against him. In spite of this annoyance, -however, he writes me various letters, some merry, and all dealing -with subjects where he or I could be of help to others less -fortunate. In one case, in connection with a certain French -pastor, to whom I could not be of assistance in the way in -which he had hoped, he writes: “I understand perfectly. I felt -like a swine when I wrote you, but the poor, dear pastor was -such a pathetic figure that from sheer mushy weakness I yielded, -and strove to do something for him.” And later, in connection -with a penniless poet: “Can you give me any advice? I wish -I knew some wealthy creature who was interested in poor struggling -poets and could help them, and also help their poor wives -and children after their deaths. Lord! how hard life is!” That -time I was able to help him, and raised quite a sum for -the struggling individual in question, whom I thought truly -deserved help.</p> - -<p>Just then Mrs. William Astor Chanler arranged a charming -play for the benefit of a war charity, a play in which there were -scenes depicting Washington at Valley Forge. My little grandson -took the part of his many times great-grandfather, Captain -Isaac Roosevelt, and my brother, with sympathetic pleasure, -came as an honored guest to the performance, and was later -photographed with the small actors. He writes from Syracuse, -where he had gone to take the defense for himself in the libel -suit: “Was little Captain Isaac Roosevelt one of the bewildering -number of small Revolutionary leaders who had their photographs -taken with me? I have felt a pang that I did not particularly -seek him out, but the confusion was so great that I -could not identify any one of the constantly revolving small -boys and girls behind the scenes; and until we were actually -in place I had supposed that they were all to have their photographs -taken with me.” In this same letter he says, speaking of -the fact that his wife had been ill when he left New York: “I -have been so worried about Edith that this libel suit has bothered -me very little. Of course I was rather tired by my nine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285">285</a></span> -days on the witness stand, but I felt I made my case pretty clear. -How the suit will go I have no idea, but in any event I do not -feel that my friends have any cause to be ashamed of me.” On -May 24, at the end of the suit, in which he scored a great -triumph, he writes: “Dearest Corinne and Douglas: It was -fine to get your telegrams and letters. You two were among -those who I knew would stand by me absolutely, win or lose; -but I am awfully glad it is a case of winning and not losing. Just -as soon as you get back from Virginia I must see you both and -tell you everything.” He did tell us everything, and many were -the things that he told!</p> - -<p>Twice in his life Theodore Roosevelt took part in libel suits. -In the first case <em>he</em> brought the suit against a newspaper which -had openly accused him of intoxication. In the second place -he was the defendant, as I have already mentioned. Nothing -was ever more unfounded than the strange and persistent rumor -that Theodore Roosevelt indulged in intoxicating liquors. It -has been my great good fortune to have been associated with -men of great self-control as regards drink, but of all my intimate -contemporaries, no one ever drank as little as my brother. I do -not think he ever in his life tasted a cocktail, and he hated whiskey, -and it rarely could be found at Sagamore Hill. He occasionally -took a glass of sherry or port or champagne, but those, -even, only occasionally; and how the report started that he -overindulged in drink no one has ever been able to discover; -but like many another sinister thing it swelled with its own -volume, and after serious thought he chose an occasion when -he could make a definite charge, and demanded a trial when -the newspaper in question <em>printed</em> the heretofore only whispered -untruth. I do not believe that so many distinguished men ever -before travelled to a remote Western town, as travelled to give -testimony about the sobriety of Theodore Roosevelt. Foreign -ambassadors, famous generals, scientists, literary men, artists, all -journeyed in an endless trail to give, with ardent loyalty, their -personal knowledge of the impeccable habits of my brother.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286">286</a></span> -The result was an award of damages which my brother refused -to take and the most abject apologies on the part of the editor. -The other suit, the Barnes suit, was entirely different, for in that -transaction he was the man to make the accusation, and his opponent -was a most brilliant and acute individual, and even -although my brother’s followers were confident of the accuracy -of the statement he had made, for his statements were consistently -accurate, still we felt that some apparent lack of proof, -even though only apparent, might bring about an unfortunate -result. Mr. John Bowers, one of the most able of his profession, -was my brother’s lawyer, and he later gave me many an -amusing description of that extraordinary case. The counsel -for the plaintiff were always averse to allowing my brother to -testify, for the effect he produced upon the jury was immediate -and startling. The opposing side would object to nearly -<em>everything</em> he said, simply because <em>anything</em> he said induced a -rapid and favorable response from the jury. In one part of -the testimony Mr. Bowers told me that my brother had repeated -a conversation between Mr. Barnes and himself, and -had gone into accurate detail, which was listened to by the -jury with intense and sympathetic excitement, whereupon the -lawyer for the plaintiff objected to Mr. Roosevelt’s statement -as an “irrelevant monologue.” Quick as a flash my brother -turned upon the objector and said that “of course the gentleman -in question might <em>call</em> it a monologue, but as Mr. Barnes -had had as much to do with the conversation as himself, he, -personally, would call it a <em>dialogue</em>.” This retort brought down -not only the house but the jury, and the unfortunate opposing -lawyer withdrew his objection. That story and many others -my brother recounted to us with humorous and sarcastic delight, -shortly after the end of the trial, around a family tea-table -one Sunday evening at Sagamore Hill.</p> - -<p>In September of that year, 1915, we suffered the loss of our -beloved friend Mrs. Henry Cabot Lodge. Since the early days -of 1884, she had shared the joys and sorrows of our lives. Beautiful,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287">287</a></span> -brilliant, sympathetic, exquisite in her delicate individuality, -in her intellectual inspiration, in her fine humor and sense -of values—her beautiful head like a rare cameo, her wonderful -gray-blue eyes looking out under dark, level brows, she remains -one of the pictures most treasured in the memories of the Roosevelt -family. My brother was always at his best with her, and -I have rarely heard him talk in a broader and more comprehensive -way of politics and literature than in the homelike library -at 1765 Massachusetts Avenue, the house where Senator -and Mrs. Lodge were always surrounded by an intimate circle -of friends. By her tea-table, in the rocking-chair bought especially -for him, Theodore Roosevelt would sit and rock when he -snatched a happy half-hour after his ride with the senator in -those old days when he was the President of the United States. -Mrs. Lodge had the power of stimulating the conversation of -others, as well as the gift of leading in conversation herself, and -the best “talk” that I have ever heard was around her tea-table -in Washington. Her sudden death was a great blow to my -brother as it was to us all.</p> - -<p>All through that year and through the year to come, although -severely censured for his criticisms of the President’s policies, -my brother worked with arduous determination, shoulder to -shoulder with General Leonard Wood and Augustus P. Gardner, -to arouse the American people to the danger of non-preparedness, -and to the shame of allowing the exhausted Allies to bear -without America’s help the brunt of the battle. Those men of -vision realized, fully, that in a world aflame, no nation could -possibly escape the danger of conflagration. Not only from that -standpoint did the apostles of preparedness press forward, but -from the love of democracy also. These courageous patriots -wished to have their country share spontaneously from the beginning -the effort for righteousness for which France, England, -and Italy were giving the lives of the flower of their youth.</p> - -<p>By pen, and even more by word of mouth, always at the -expense of his energy, Theodore Roosevelt went up and down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288">288</a></span> -the country, preaching the doctrine of brotherhood and preparedness -for self-defense. As early as January, 1915, General Wood -had asked me to have a meeting to interest some of the men of -New York in his plans for the training-camps, which later -developed into the “Plattsburg idea.” Many of the men who -in later days were patriotically ardent in their support of that -Plattsburg idea spoke to me with amused indifference at the -end of that meeting in January, 1915, and asked me why I had -made such a point of their coming to it! At the same time, Augustus -P. Gardner, in the House of Representatives, struggled -to arouse the country from its lethargy. Gradually, however, -the force of the truth of the doctrine which was being preached -by the few percolated through the minds and hearts of many -of the American people, and at the beginning of the year 1916 -one could feel a certain response to a higher ideal. In May, -1915, after the dastardly sinking of the <i>Lusitania</i>, the country -could have been easily led in the path of duty and high ideals. -The psychological moment was at hand when over a hundred -women and children, non-combatants, and over whom flew the -British flag, were hurled into the sea by the dastardly tactics -of Germany,—but this is a digression. In January, 1916, I -was chosen a delegate by the National Security League (an -organization started during the first year of the war to uphold -the policy of “Preparedness”) to its first conference at Washington, -and there I was asked to read a letter from my brother, -as he could not be present at the conference. He writes me -on January 22, 1916: “I was very much surprised and much -pleased when I saw in the papers that you had read my letter -to the Security League.” And again, two days later, came one -of his characteristic little notes (no one ever took such pains -to do and say loving and lovely things): “Darling Pussie,” he -says this time: “Judge Nortoni and Bob Bacon have been out -here to Sagamore Hill separately, and both feel that your speech -was the feature of the Washington meeting. I will tell you all -that they say next Sunday when you come to us. I was really<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289">289</a></span> -touched by their enthusiastic admiration of you and the speech. -<em>My</em> letter was apparently regarded only as the peg on which -the speech was hung. Ever yours, T. R.” Needless to say, -my speech was only an insignificant addendum to his letter, but -he truly believed that his sister’s speech was the more important -of the two things!</p> - -<p>In February he gladly lent me his name for the New York -advisory committee of “The Fatherless Children of France,” -a society started by two magnificent Englishwomen, Miss Schofield -and Miss Fell, for which I was privileged to form the New -York City committee. “Of course use my name,” he says. I -do not remember ever asking him for it that he did not lend -it to me—that name which counted more than almost any other -name of his time.</p> - -<p>In March, 1916, he sailed with Mrs. Roosevelt for Trinidad, -and during his absence there began again the rumblings of desire -on the part of the people of the United States to have him -named as presidential candidate on the Republican ticket in -the forthcoming convention. A certain faction of the Progressive -party still clung to the hope that it could achieve its heart’s -desire and name him on their ticket, but he had come more and -more to the conclusion that the Republican and the Progressive -parties must amalgamate in their choice of a nominee, for he -firmly believed that Mr. Wilson’s policies had been of sinister -influence in the country, and he was convinced that nothing was -so important as to remove this, from his standpoint, unfortunate -influence. More and more he believed that our country should -bear a gallant part in the terrible adventure across the sea; more -and more he preached the doctrine that we should go to the -aid of the war-worn countries who sorely needed America’s help.</p> - -<p>I cannot refrain from inserting here a letter written by -Colonel Roosevelt to his dear friend and classmate Charles G. -Washburn, who had just published his able book called “Theodore -Roosevelt—The Logic of His Career.” That book had -special interest because, although Mr. Washburn never wavered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290">290</a></span> -in his personal, loyal, and devoted attachment to Colonel Roosevelt, -his political convictions were such that he had not found -it possible to follow the Colonel into the Progressive party. -The book in question, having been written during the period -between 1912 and 1916, the period when many people felt that -my brother was politically dead, was published, strange to say, -just as the pendulum swung back again, when the people realized -the need of strong leadership in the crisis of the Great War, -and Theodore Roosevelt seemed to many to be the man of the -hour.</p> - -<p>“Dear Charlie:” writes Colonel Roosevelt, “We leave on -the 10th of this month [for Trinidad]. I am much amused to -think that there is a momentary revival of my popularity or -notoriety or whatever you choose to call it, at the very time your -book is to appear, for when you started to write it, indeed, while -you were writing it, I was down at the very nadir; and only -a very devoted friendship—others would call it a very blind -friendship—would have made you write it. I, myself, thought -that it was not wise for you to publish it, that nobody would -take any interest in me, and that they would only laugh at you -for your loyalty and affection.”</p> - -<p>The following day he writes again: “Just after I had written -you, the book came. I am immensely pleased with it, and I am -very proud that my children and grandchildren are to have it.... -Of course, old friend, you have said of me far more than -I deserve, but I am glad you said it.” The book to which he -refers shows, perhaps, more than any other book written about -my brother, the accurate realization by the author that my -brother’s attitude in January, 1912, when he took the step which -directly or indirectly brought about the formation of the Progressive -party, was in no sense an erratic swerving from the -path upon which he had always walked, but, on the contrary, -a direct and logical justification of beliefs—and the actions with -which he always squared beliefs—held in his early manhood -and retained in his later years.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291">291</a></span> -On March 27, after his return from Trinidad, he writes:</p> - -<p>“Well, here we are, back from our little trip along ‘the path -to Nowhere’ [He refers here to some verses I had just published -under that title.] We did not get entirely out of the path -to Somewhere—thanks to the ‘hurrying, struggling, and striving’ -of very kind people who insisted on entertaining us—but we -had, at intervals, a number of hours on the path to Nowhere, -although, in that latitude, there were no adders’ tongues, and -the lilies were less in evidence than palms, bougainvillea, scarlet -hibiscus and poinsettia in hedges, and rocks and flowering trees, -and little green cities of St. Mary’s (I wish I had seen Masefield)—and -the trade wind tossing the fronds of the palms on -the white beaches.</p> - -<p>“I loved your letter, and read and re-read every word of -it. I think as highly of ‘Ordeal by Battle’ as you do; did I show -you the letter Oliver sent me with a copy of the first edition? -He has just sent me a copy of the second edition. I am very -glad you are taking a rest cure. You sorely needed it, but when -you leave Nonkanawha, can’t you bring Cortissoz and the Corbins -out here for lunch. I am very glad you like my book. My -soul was in it. [He had just published “Fear God, and Take -Your Own Part.”] ... Well, I don’t see much chance of our -doing what is right in politics. The trouble is that we have -complacently sagged back for fifty years while Germany has -surged forward and has forced her nearest competitors to some -kind of forward movement in order to avoid death at her hands.”</p> - -<p>Shortly afterward, when in answer to his suggestion I wrote -him that I would bring some of the friends he mentioned to -luncheon, he writes: “Three cheers—I shall expect you with the -Cortissoz, Corbins, and O’Hara.”</p> - -<p>That letter was written on April 2, 1916, and shortly afterward -I motored those friends to Oyster Bay, and we had a peculiarly -delightful luncheon and afternoon, at which I was, as -usual, struck with the manner in which he adapted himself to the -interest of the individual. Mr. John Myers O’Hara, an American<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292">292</a></span> -poet of classic and lyric quality, was shown a special poem -in which my brother felt that there was similarity between his -work and that of the author of the lines in question; Mr. Cortissoz, -whose delicious humor was a special delight to my brother, -found the Colonel not only sympathetic in those ways, but also -in the quality of his artistic thought; he adapted himself to each -in turn, and we all motored away from that full and rich environment -each more stimulated than before along the line of -the special achievement to which he aspired.</p> - -<p>On his return from Trinidad, he had been beset by questions -as to whether he would consent again to be the presidential -nominee. The Progressive party, after its severe defeat in various -States in 1914, still showed a grim desire to be at least a -strong factor in the nomination for a presidential candidate in -the coming election, and various combinations of individuals -were already in process of coalition in the happy thought that -Theodore Roosevelt might be the combined nominee of both -Progressive and Republican forces. A certain number of such -citizens formed what they called The Roosevelt Non-partisan -League, and the secretary of that league, Guy Emerson by name, -wrote, in part, as follows to Colonel Roosevelt:</p> - -<p>“Dear Colonel Roosevelt:—The Roosevelt Non-partisan -League is a movement inaugurated by citizens of all parties -who believe that Americanism is the great issue before the country -today, and that you are the strongest available man as leader -under that issue. You stated the platform in your Chicago -speech, which, in our opinion, is vital for the safety of the country -during the four momentous years which lie ahead.”</p> - -<p>In answer to the above letter, my brother wrote:</p> - -<p>“Because of your attitude, I earnestly approve your work. -The safety of this country depends upon our immediate, serious, -and vigorous efforts to square our words with our deeds, and -to secure our own national rehabilitation. The slumbering -patriotism of our people must be waked and translated into -concrete and efficient action. The awakening must be to a sense<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293">293</a></span> -of national and international duty and responsibility.” After -going into greater length as to his personal principles and opinions, -Mr. Roosevelt continues: “Our citizens must act as Americans, -not as Americans with a prefix and qualifications.... -Cowardice in a race, as in an individual, is the unpardonable -sin. The timid man who cannot fight, and the selfish, short-sighted -or foolish man who will not take the steps that will enable -him to fight, stand on almost the same plane. Preparedness -deters the foe and maintains right by the show of ready -might without the use of violence. Peace, like Freedom, is not -a gift that tarries long in the hands of cowards, or of those too -feeble or too short-sighted to deserve it, and we ask to be given -the means to insure that honorable peace which alone is worth -having.”</p> - -<p>In answering from other sources the same suggestion—namely, -that he should take anew the leadership and be himself -the nominee against President Wilson—he boldly replied that -he doubted if it would be wise to name him, for if he should be -named, his followers would have to be in a “heroic mood.”</p> - -<p>On May 31 he announced: “I speak for universal service -based on universal training. Universal training and universal -service represent the only service and training a democracy -should accept.... Performance of international duty to -others means that in international affairs, in the commonwealth -of nations, we shall not only refrain from wronging the weak, -but, according to our capacity and as opportunity offers, we -should stand up for the weak when the weak are wronged by -the strong.”</p> - -<p>Every speech by Colonel Roosevelt had again become the -subject of national discussion, and as the Democratic policy -began to shape itself, each position taken by the Republican -party, as well as by the Progressive party, followed the lines laid -down in some speech made by Colonel Roosevelt. By this time -he had fully come to realize that, if it were possible to defeat -the policies which, from his standpoint, were lulling the country<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294">294</a></span> -into ignoble avoidance of its national and international duty, -such defeat could only be brought about by the amalgamation -of the Progressive and Republican parties, a result extremely -difficult to accomplish.</p> - -<p>On April 14 he said: “<cite>The Tribune</cite> says of the approaching -convention, ‘We are choosing which way the country shall -go in the era that is now opening, just as our fathers chose the -nation’s path in the days of 1860.’ This sentence should be in -the mind of every man who at Chicago next June takes part in -formulating the platform and naming the candidate. The men -at Chicago should act in the spirit of the men who stood behind -Abraham Lincoln.... There is one great issue on which the -fight is to be made if the highest service is to be rendered the -American people. That issue is that the American people must -find its own soul. National honor is a spiritual thing that cannot -be haggled over in terms of dollars. [He refers to the issue -of the tariff which had been prominently brought forward.] We -must stand not only for America First but for America first, -last, and all the time and without any second.... We can -be true to mankind at large only if we are true to ourselves. If -we are false to ourselves, we shall be false to everything else. -We have a lofty ideal to serve and a great mission to accomplish -for the cause of Freedom and genuine democracy, and of justice -and fair dealing throughout the world. If we are weak and slothful -and absorbed in mere money getting or vapid excitement, -we can neither serve these causes nor any others. We must -stand for national issues, for national discipline and for preparedness—military, -social and industrial—in order to keep the soul -of this nation. We stand for Peace, but only for the Peace that -comes as a right to the just man armed, and not for the Peace -which the coward purchases by abject submission to wrong. -The Peace of cowardice leads in the end to war after a record -of shame.”</p> - -<p>Even the Democratic newspaper, the New York <cite>Times</cite>, spoke -about that time of Colonel Roosevelt’s capacity to rouse a true<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295">295</a></span> -patriotism. It said: “The passion of his Americanism, his unerring -instinct for the jugular vein, make him, in a good cause, an -unrivalled compeller of men. He has had his fill of glories, his -name is blown about the world;—by preparing America against -war, to unite America in patriotism, there are no nobler laurels.” -And almost coincident with this unexpected appreciation of a -newspaper frequently the enemy of Colonel Roosevelt came -a letter from his former attorney-general, William H. Moody, -written to their mutual friend Mr. Washburn, the author of -the book which I have already mentioned. In the heat of the -controversy which was once more beginning to rage around the -figure of Theodore Roosevelt, it was interesting to read the calm -and quiet words penned by the able man who had served as -attorney-general in my brother’s cabinet, but, alas, laid low by -the painful illness which later proved the cause of his premature -death. “For five years,” writes Mr. Moody, “I was in almost -daily association with him in the details of work for a common -purpose and in his relation to all sorts and conditions of men. -There are some parts of his work as President which I think no -one knew better than I did, and there are results of it which ought -to receive thorough study and be brought clearly to light. I -have here specially in mind, the effect of his acts and preachments -upon economic thought, and the development of the constitutional -theory of our government. If one contrasts the state -of opinion as to the proper relation between capital and labor, -and the proper attitude of government toward both as that -opinion existed just before the war with Spain, and as it exists -today, one cannot fail to see that there has been an extraordinary -change. In this change, I believe he was the one great leader -in this country.... What was needed was a man with a great -genius for leadership, great courage, great intelligence, and the -highest purpose. That man came in Theodore Roosevelt. Perhaps, -many would scout the idea that he had been a guide in -constitutional interpretation. I remember the state of legal -thought and the attitude of the Supreme Court in the nineties<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296">296</a></span> -toward what we called the new internationalism. I believe -no one appreciates more clearly than I the great -change that has come to both since then. By the legislation -which he, Theodore Roosevelt, promoted against great odds, -there have been drawn from the Supreme Court decisions -which have declared that nationalism which is necessary to -our future national life.”</p> - -<p>This deliberate decision on the part of a man essentially -legal in mind throws interesting light upon my brother’s actions -and attitudes, assailed as he was at the time for lack of the very -devotion to the Constitution for which Mr. Moody praises him. -About the same time, from Kansas City, on May 30, 1916, my -brother writes to me: “I hope you will like the speech I am about -to make here. I have scrupulously employed the ‘we’ in describing -our governmental short-comings!”</p> - -<p>Unless I am mistaken, it was about that time that my brother -made a speech in Arkansas which—while the quotation which I -am about to give has little to do with the issue of the moment—is -so characteristic of his own fearlessness that I cannot pass -it over.</p> - -<p>The strongest theory which I have evolved from the study -of the ups and downs of political life consists in the belief that -of all factors in permanent success (and permanent success -means a place in history), there is none so important as that -of moral as well as physical courage. More men have lost -their heart’s desire because at the most crucial moment they -lacked the courage to barter that very desire for an honest -conviction than from any other cause. Theodore Roosevelt -believed that he could help not only his country but the countries -of the world were he nominated and elected in 1916, just -as he firmly believed that should Mr. Wilson be renominated -and re-elected to that position, America and the countries of -the world would be worse off rather than better off, and yet, -no matter before what audience he spoke, were it East, West, -North, or South, he spoke with the ardor of conviction, never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297">297</a></span> -for one moment withholding one belief, no matter how unpalatable -it might be to the section of the country to which he was -giving his message, did he feel that that belief should be clearly -demonstrated to that portion of the people.</p> - -<p>At Little Rock, Ark., the Governor of the State (I was told -of this incident by a Methodist minister who was present on the -occasion), during a speech in which he introduced Colonel Roosevelt -to his stupendous audience, said: “We have an unwritten -law in the Southland that when a vile black wretch commits -the unmentionable crime, we hang him without judge or jury.” -As Theodore Roosevelt rose to make his address, he turned to -the governor and said: “Before I make my address to the people, -Governor, I want to say to you that when any man or set of -men take the law into their own hands, and inflict summary -punishment on the ‘vile black wretch’ of whom you speak they -place themselves upon the same base level as that same ‘vile -black wretch.’” The stunned audience, silent for a moment, -burst into vociferous applause. But the governor made no -response to Colonel Roosevelt’s interpellation.</p> - -<p>It was about this same time that in response to a letter from -Mr. Guy Emerson, Mr. Thomas A. Edison wrote of Colonel -Roosevelt as follows: “My dear Sir:—Answering your question -as to my views of Colonel Roosevelt for our next President, I -would say that I believe he is absolutely the only man that -should be considered at this crucial period. He has more real -statesmanship, a better grasp of the most important needs of -this country and greater executive ability to handle the big, -international problems that will arise at the close of the war -than all the other proposed candidates put together. His energy, -capacity, and vast experience in large affairs of state and nation -for many years, together with his great patriotism, and his intense -Americanism, and his great knowledge in all lines of human -endeavor, make him decidedly the most striking figure in American -life.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Edison voiced the sentiment of hundreds of thousands<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298">298</a></span> -of his fellow citizens, and as the time approached for the Republican -Convention of 1916, feelings of all kinds waxed almost -as hot as in those thrilling days of 1912. In fact, in many -ways, there was even a greater excitement in the hearts of the -more valiant Americans, who believed that the time was already -ripe to make the world safe for democracy. These more valiant -Americans also believed that the man most fitted to aid in making -the world thus safe was Theodore Roosevelt. On the other -hand, the stand-pat Republicans were still smarting from what -they considered, I think unjustly, his betrayal of them, and they -were not ready to enroll themselves under his banner. The -Progressives, on the other hand, were equally opposed to any -compromise, and when the great convention met in Chicago, -peace between the contending factions seemed an illusive and -unattainable ideal, and so it proved. Those were days of tragic -excitement in the great auditorium, where sat, tied hand and -foot, what seemed to be a mercenary army, so little did true patriotism -appear to actuate the delegates to that important congregation -of individuals. On the other hand, near by, in a smaller -hall, the almost fanatic enthusiasm for the much higher ideal -was also to make itself a party to the defeat of its own object, -although at that moment of honest and high-minded enthusiasm -it could hardly be blamed for any attitude born of that enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Again the battle raged, and again the personality of Theodore -Roosevelt became the deciding factor. Conferees were -chosen by both the Republican Convention and the Progressive -Convention, but they could not find a common ground upon -which to agree, and that fateful week in early June ended -with the nomination of Charles E. Hughes by the Republican -Convention, and, against his wish, with the nomination of my -brother on the Progressive ticket. Perhaps there was never a -more dramatic moment, a moment of more heartfelt disappointment, -than when the convention of the Progressive party received -the statement brought to it by John McGrath, secretary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299">299</a></span> -of Colonel Roosevelt, which ran as follows (I quote from a -contemporary newspaper in Chicago):</p> - -<p>“Announcement was made here this afternoon at 4:50 o’clock -that Roosevelt has refused to accept the Progressive nomination -for President.</p> - -<p>“Colonel Roosevelt’s statement was brought to the convention -by John McGrath, his secretary. It follows:</p> - -<p>“‘To the Progressive Convention: I am very grateful for -the honor you confer upon me by nominating me as President. -I cannot accept it at this time. I do not know the attitude of -the candidate of the Republican party toward the vital questions -of the day. Therefore, if you desire an immediate decision, -I must decline the nomination. But if you prefer it, I suggest -that my conditional refusal to run be placed in the hands of the -Progressive National Committee.</p> - -<p>“‘If Mr. Hughes’ statements, when he makes them, shall -satisfy the committee that it is for the interest of the country -that he be elected, they can act accordingly and treat my refusal -as definitely accepted. If they are not satisfied they can -so notify the Progressive party, and at the same time, they can -confer with me and then determine on whatever action we may -severally deem appropriate to meet the needs of the country.’</p> - -<p>“‘I move,’ said James R. Garfield, ‘that the letter of Colonel -Roosevelt be received in the spirit in which it is meant, -and that it be referred to the National Committee, with power -to act thereon.’</p> - -<p>“The motion was carried, and at 5 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span> the Progressive -Convention, the liveliest in the history of politics, came to an -end with the playing of the national air.”</p> - -<p>The closing scenes of the Republican Convention were as -cold and as unemotional as was the reverse in the body sitting -in the other hall, so close at hand. I, myself, went from one -spot to the other, torn with conflicting emotions. In the Republican -Convention there had been no enthusiasm whatsoever -for any candidate up to the moment when Senator Fall, of New<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300">300</a></span> -Mexico, put the name of Theodore Roosevelt in nomination. -Then, and then only, did the thousands of people in that great -auditorium rise to their feet with one prolonged shout of approval. -The delegates—and, alas! it is the delegates to a convention, -not the people, who apparently choose the men who are -to govern the people—were cold and unresponsive no matter -what name was put before them, and, were it possible, they were -even colder, even more unresponsive, when Theodore Roosevelt’s -name was mentioned than they were at any other time; -but the masses—they were neither cold nor unresponsive! How -they cheered as that beloved name was heard for the first time -in that Republican Convention! Over and over again the chairman -tried to bring the convention to order. No blaring bands, -no stimulated marchings, were the cause of the great ovation. -It was actually and vividly the cry of those who wanted a leader -and wanted <em>their</em> leader that was heard in that great hall, but -there was no echo in the hearts of those who held the balance -of power in their hands. That evening there was printed in one -of the Chicago newspapers so exquisite a rhapsody, so loving -a swan song, that I can but reproduce it.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center larger">AH! TEDDY DEAR</p> - -<p>Ah, Teddy dear, and did ye hear the news that’s goin’ round?</p> - -<p>They say you’re gone from off the stage, that strange cold men, -whom we respect but love not, must be our meat for all the campaign -days to come.</p> - -<p>Gray is the prospect; dull is the outlook.</p> - -<p>We felt all the while that over in the Auditorium and the Coliseum -they were breaking to us the news of a death in the family. They -were merciful; they held it back; they did not let us have the shock -of it all at once. They meant kindly.</p> - -<p>But now that the news has come the kindness of friends can help -but little. Our hearts are broke! We need you and we want you -every minute.</p> - -<p>Ah the fun of you and the glory of you!</p> - -<p>Where lies the American whose passion or whose imagination -you have not set a-tingling? Who else has meant the savor of life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301">301</a></span> -for us? Who but you has taken us and set our feet upon the high -places?</p> - -<p>Before you came, all in politics was set and regular. Those who -were ordained to rule over us did so with that gravity with which -stupid grown-ups so oft repress the child. No one ever talked to us -as you did. They called us “voters” or “constituents” or such big -names as these. They never took us by the hand and laughed and -played with us as you did.</p> - -<p>They never understood us. They could preach Sunday school -and arithmetic. But the good Lord never gave it to them to speak -to the heart.</p> - -<p>And then you came!</p> - -<p>Dancing down the road you came with life and love and courage -and fun stickin’ out all over you. How we loved you at the first sight! -And how you loved us!</p> - -<p>Friends we were, tho’ you were in the White House and we were -making mud pies. Friends we were together with nothing to come -between us.</p> - -<p>Your love would let no harm come near us and we knew it. With -your courage you fought for us. With your life and your fun you -took us out of the drab grind.</p> - -<p>You told us of the birds in the air and of the fishes in the sea. The -great tales of the old heroes, the sagas of the past, you spread before -our ’stonished eyes. You gave us new words—delightful words—to -play with; and jokes—delightful jokes—to make us laugh.</p> - -<p>How we wanted you back when you went away! But they stole -our right from us and they wouldn’t let you come back. So we followed -you. Four million of us, in a fight the like of which we never -knew. Joy and religion were in it in equal measure. Hymns and -cleanness and color and battle all were jumbled in it. The good of -it is set forever into the life of the nation.</p> - -<p>But the schoolmaster beat you, and the Great War came to crowd -you from our thoughts. We thought only of ourselves because you -were no longer there to make us think of our country. At last we -turned to you—when it was too late.</p> - -<p>So now we are not to have you. We must go stumbling on alone, -hoping that the man they’ve given us may show something of that -fire and strength upon which you taught us to rely.</p> - -<p>It’s our fault, not theirs. It’s our fault, not yours. You warned -us that we must be ready to go thru to the end. We weren’t. Fear -had come upon us, fear of ourselves. We were split up. We eyed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302">302</a></span> -each other with distrust. The spirit of your old sagas had gone from -us.</p> - -<p>Now we must face it alone, unless you help us. Do not forsake -us to sulk in your tent. Make the sacrifice they demand, not for their -sake but for ours. Help them win with the cold, good man they’ve -chosen. Help that man to hold his courage and fight worthily for -the things which you have taught us—tho the real right to fight for -them was yours, not his. Don’t let our councils be divided. Don’t -let hotheaded friends force their personal claims upon you.</p> - -<p>But whatever you do or whatever you don’t do, be sure of one -thing—we shall never hold it against you. For all that is gone, you -can do no wrong in our sight. The memory of you shall never fade -from our hearts.</p> - -<p>Ah, Teddy dear—we love you now and always.<a id="FNanchor_B" href="#Footnote_B" class="fnanchor">B</a></p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_B" href="#FNanchor_B" class="fnanchor">B</a> From the Chicago <cite>Evening Post</cite>, June, 1916. The article was written by Julian -Mason, the gifted son of one who had been a hospitable host of Theodore Roosevelt -when, as a young man, he wrote “The Winning of the West.”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303">303</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="vspace"><a id="XVI"></a>XVI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">“DO IT NOW”</span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sad America<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreamed in the distance as a charmed thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till Roosevelt, like Roland, blew his horn.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—John Jay Chapman. -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="b2 poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One who rang true when traitor thoughts were rife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One who led straight through all the years of strife.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—From <cite>Horace Mann School Record</cite>. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap i"><span class="smcap1">I went</span> to Sagamore Hill the very moment that I returned -from Chicago after that exciting convention. In fact, I -took the first train possible to Oyster Bay. My heart was -aflame, for it seemed to me then, as it has seemed to me frequently -in such contests (nor does this refer solely to contests -in which my brother took part), that the will of the people had -been frustrated.</p> - -<p>My brother was seated in the library when I arrived at Sagamore -Hill, and when I burst out, “Theodore—the people wanted -you. It seems terrible to me that they could not have you,” -he answered, with a smile that had a subtle meaning in it: “Do -not say that; if they had wanted me <em>hard</em> enough, they could -have had me.” By which he meant that after all, if enough -citizens in our great country would take seriously the duties -of citizenship, the delegates to our conventions would have to -do their will. From that moment, putting himself entirely aside, -his whole thought, his whole effort were given to the achievement -of what he considered the vital need for his country; -namely, the election of the Republican candidate. Waiting -until Mr. Hughes had definitely stated his policy, Colonel Roosevelt, -upon that statement, immediately sent to the Progressive<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304">304</a></span> -Convention, which met within a few weeks, a letter stating his -position as follows:</p> - -<p>“<i>Gentlemen</i>: In accordance with the message I sent to the -National Progressive Convention as soon as I had received the -notification that it had nominated me for President, I now communicate -to you my reasons for declining the honor which I so -deeply appreciate.... Before speaking of anything else, I -wish to express my heartiest and most unstinted admiration -for the character and services of the men and women who made -up the National Progressive Convention in 1916.... They -represent the spirit which moved Abraham Lincoln and his political -associates during the decade preceding the close of the Civil -War. The platform put forth in 1912 was much the most important -public document promulgated in this country since -the death of Abraham Lincoln. It represented the first effort, -on a large scale, to translate abstract formulas of economic and -social justice into concrete American nationalism....</p> - -<p>“Events have shown us that the Progressive party in 1912 -offered the only alternative to the triumph of the Democratic -party.... The results of the terrible world war of the past -two years have now made it evident to all who are willing to -see, that in this country there must be spiritual and industrial -preparedness, along the lines of efficient and loyal service to -the nation, and of practical application of the precept that ‘each -man must be his brother’s keeper.’ Furthermore, it is no less -evident that this preparedness for the days of peace forms the -only sound basis for that indispensable military preparedness -based on military universal training, and which finds expression -in universal obligatory service in time of war. Such universal -obligatory training and service are necessary complements of -universal suffrage and represent the realization of the true American, -the democratic ideal in both peace and war.</p> - -<p>“Sooner or later, the national principles championed by -the Progressives of 1912 must, in their general effect, be embodied -in the structure of our national existence. With all my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305">305</a></span> -heart, I shall continue to work for these great ideals, shoulder -to shoulder with the men and women, who, in 1912, championed -them.... The method however by which we are to show our -loyalty must be determined in each case by the actual event. -Our loyalty is to the fact, to the principle, to the ideal, and not -merely to the name, and least of all, to the party name. The -Progressive movement has been given an incalculable impetus -by what the Progressive party has done. Our strongest party -organizations have accepted and enacted into law, or embodied -in their party platforms many of our most important principles. -Yet it has become entirely evident that the people under existing -conditions are not prepared to accept a new party.... -Under such circumstances, our duty is to do the best we can -and not to sulk because our leadership is rejected.—It is unpatriotic -to refuse to do the best possible, merely because the -people have not put us in a position to do what we regard as -the very best.... In my judgment, the nomination of Mr. -Hughes meets the conditions set forth in the statement of the -Progressive National Committee, issued last January and in -my own statements. Under existing conditions, the nomination -of a third ticket would, in my judgment, be merely a move -in the interest of the election of Mr. Wilson. I regard Mr. -Hughes as a man whose public record is a guarantee that he -will not merely stand for a program of clean-cut, straight principles -before election but will resolutely and in good faith put -them through if elected. It would be a grave detriment to the -country to re-elect Mr. Wilson. I shall, therefore, strongly support -Mr. Hughes. Such being the case, it is unnecessary to say -that I cannot accept the nomination on a third ticket. I do -not believe that there should be a third ticket. I believe that -when my fellow Progressives actually consider the question, -they will, for the most part, take this position.</p> - -<p>“They and I have but one purpose,—the purpose to serve -our common country. It is my deep conviction that at this -moment we can serve it only by supporting Mr. Hughes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306">306</a></span> -From that moment, “squaring,” as he always did, “conviction -with action,” Theodore Roosevelt set his strong shoulder -to the political wheel which he hoped with all his heart would -put Charles E. Hughes into the White House.</p> - -<p>In my brother’s own “Autobiography” he says: “I have always -had a horror of words that are not translated into deeds, -of speech that does not result in action; in other words, I believe -in realizable ideals and in realizing them; in preaching what -would be practicable and then practising it.”</p> - -<p>He put the same idea in somewhat different words in a speech -in that very campaign of 1916: “Of course, the vital thing -for the nation to remember is that while dreaming and talking -both have their uses, these uses must chiefly exist in seeing the -dream realized and the talking turned into action.... Ideals -that are so lofty as always to be unrealizable have a place,—sometimes -an exceedingly important place in the history of mankind—<em>if</em> -the attempt, at least partially to realize them is made; -but, in the long run, what most helps forward the common run -of humanity in this work-a-day world, is the possession of realizable -ideals and the sincere attempt to realize them.”</p> - -<p>Never did my brother more earnestly fulfil the convictions -expressed in the above sentence than in his campaign for the -election of Mr. Hughes. Never did he give himself more selflessly, -and with more tireless zeal, than when he tried to put -one so lately a rival for the presidential nomination into the White -House, because of his strong belief that to do so would be for -the good of his beloved country.</p> - -<p>On June 23, just before the meeting of the Progressive Convention, -he writes to me: “I should like to show you my letter -to the National Committee which will appear on Monday afternoon. -I will then, I trust, finish my active connections with -Politics.” And again, in another letter on July 21, he says: -“For six years I have been, I believe, emphatically right, emphatically -the servant of the best interests of the American -people; but just as emphatically,—the American people have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307">307</a></span> -steadily grown to think less and less of me, and more definitely -determined not to use me in any public position, and it is their -affair after all. Your Teddy [my son at the time was running -for the nomination for New York State Senator] may experience -the same fate and may find that through no fault of his,—in -my case the fault may have been mine,—his talents may be -passed by.”</p> - -<p>It is interesting to note that although so frequently a justified -prophet in national affairs, my brother’s prophecies concerning -himself rarely came true. The above prophecy was -no exception to this rule, for during the years to come, the Republican -party was to turn once more to Theodore Roosevelt -as its greatest leader, and to pledge its support to him both inferentially -and actually in their great effort to make him the -nominee for governor of New York State. In the campaign of -1918 the leaders of the Republican party turned to him as almost -one man, feeling as they did that his election again to that position -would positively secure him the election to the presidency -in 1920.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the hardest thing for him to bear connected with -the political situation in 1916 was the keen disappointment of -those Progressives for whom he had such devoted affection -when he refused to run on the Progressive ticket as the candidate -for President. He felt that in the hearts of many there -was, in spite of their personal devotion to him, a sense of disillusion, -and he tried with earnest effort to make them see the -point of view which he was convinced was the right point of -view, which made him support the candidate of the Republican -party.</p> - -<p>A Mrs. Nicholson, of Oregon, for whom he had a sincere regard, -having written to him on the subject, he answers on July -18, 1916:</p> - -<p>“My dear Mrs. Nicholson: ... You say you do not understand -‘Why we men make such a fetich of parties.’ I cannot -understand how you include me with the men who do so.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308">308</a></span> -Four years ago I declined to make a fetich of the Republican -party, when to do so meant dishonor to the nation, and this -year I declined to make a fetich of the Progressive party when -to do so meant dishonor to honor. I agree with you that issues -and men are the things that count. A party is good only as -a means to an end. Nevertheless, we have to face the fact that -has been made strikingly evident during the past four years that -with ninety per cent of our country-men the party name of itself -has a certain fetichistic power, and we would be very foolish -if we did not take this into account in endeavoring to work for -good results. Moreover, it is unfortunately true that the dead -hand of a party sometimes paralyzes its living members. The -ancestral principles of the Democratic party are so bad it seems -to be entirely impossible for it to be useful to the country except -in spasms.</p> - -<p>“I believe Mr. Hughes to be honest and to have the good -of his country at heart.”</p> - -<p>He was not able to visit us in our country home on the Mohawk -Hills, as we had hoped he might possibly do, during that -summer, but on October 5 he writes to me: “I fear I shall be -West on the 25th, otherwise I should jump at the chance to lunch -with you and Fanny at the Colony Club. Can I accept for the -first subsequent day when I find that you and she are available? -I am now being worked to the limit by the Hughes people who -are the very people who four months ago were explaining that -I had ‘no strength.’... I most earnestly desire to win; I, -above all things, do not wish to sulk, and therefore, from now -on my time is to be at the disposal of the National Committee. -Of course, Teddy’s nomination meant far more to me personally -than anything else in this campaign. I look forward eagerly -to seeing you. Do look at my <cite>Metropolitan Magazine</cite> article -which is just out. I think you will like the literary style!” The -“literary style” was combined with a certain amount of plain -talk in this particular instance!</p> - -<p>On October 12 Colonel Roosevelt, taking the exploits of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309">309</a></span> -the German submarine U-boat 53 off the shores of America -as a text, launched an urgent protest. Colonel Roosevelt declared -that the conduct of the war had led to a “complete breakdown -of the code of international rights.” The man who as -long ago as in his inauguration speech in March, 1905, inveighed -against the “peace of the coward,” was stirred to red-blooded -indignation at the Democratic slogan of that campaign of 1916, -which laid all the stress on “He kept us out of war,” a sentence -which Colonel Roosevelt described as “utterly misleading.”</p> - -<p>He said:</p> - -<p>“Now that the war has been carried to our very shores, there -is not an American who does not realize the awful tragedy of -our indifference and our inaction. Nine-tenths of wisdom is -being wise in time. By taking the right step at the right time, -America’s influence and leadership might have been made a -stabilizing force.</p> - -<p>“In actual reality, war has been creeping nearer and nearer -until it stares at us from just beyond our three-mile limit, and -we face it without policy, plan, purpose, or preparation. No -sane man can to-day be so blind as to believe President Wilson’s -original statement that the war was no concern of ours. Every -thinking man must realize the utter futility of a statesmanship -without plan or policy until such facts as these now stare us in -the face.”</p> - -<p>Such were the virile statements used many times during the -following campaign. One of the most interesting human documents -connected with Theodore Roosevelt during this period was -written by a young reporter, Edwin N. Lewis, in private letters -to his own family, from the special train upon which Theodore -Roosevelt travelled for one of the most active ten days of his -active life, during which he urged the American people to accept -the Republican candidate. With Mr. Lewis’s permission, -I am quoting from these interesting letters, written by the kind -of young American for whom my brother had the warmest and -most friendly feeling, the kind of young American whose family<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310">310</a></span> -life had been such that he wished to share with his family -whatever was of interest in his life.</p> - -<p>The first letter, dated October 17, 1916, begins:</p> - -<p>“Just getting into Rochester—7 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span>—Dear Ma:—The -big tour is on. I was presented to Colonel Roosevelt by his secretary -before the train pulled out. Since there are only three correspondents -in the party, he insists that we eat in his private car -with him. The trip is going to be a little family party with the -Colonel a sort of jovial master of ceremonies. He permits me, -a stranger, to take part in the conversation with the group. In -fact, I feel, now, after my experiences at luncheon, that I have -known him a long while. He is just as remarkable, energetic, -mentally alert and forcible as his chroniclers picture him. I -could entertain you and pa for an evening with the stories he -told this noon, and dinner is coming in a half hour! Wonderful -meals too,—with the New York Central chefs straining every -effort to give Theodore Roosevelt something fine to eat. Cronin -of <cite>The Sun</cite> and Yoder of the United Press are the only other -newspaper men along.... Tomorrow we face a busy day. -From Cincinnati, we turn down through a mountain section -of Kentucky which has never seen a President, an ex-President -or a Presidential candidate. Mountaineers will drive from miles -around to see the man they have worshipped for years. The -Colonel makes thirteen stops between Falmouth and Louisville. -I realize how you are thinking of me on this trip. It helps -me to make good.”</p> - -<p>Leaving Louisville, Ky., October 18, 11 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span>:</p> - -<p>“This has been a long day with hundreds of miles travelled -by our special train through the valleys of Kentucky in a steady -run. I wrote about 2000 words but do not imagine that all of -it will get in the first edition which you will see in New England. -Tonight, “T. R.” pulled one of his familiar stunts with -his changing the whole introduction to his speech at one-half -hour’s notice. He spoke for half an hour on the Adamson -law and what he would have done to prevent the threatened<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311">311</a></span> -railroad strikes. I had to shoot in 500 words additional just -as we pulled out. It was written in long hand while the Colonel -delivered the tail end of his talk. Louisville went wild over him. -As we climbed down in the mud and rain, red fire burned, rockets -glared in the mist, and the factory whistles screeched their welcome. -As the New York correspondents travelling with the -Colonel, we are members of his personal body-guard. You can -imagine how seriously we take the job, when you remember -that Mr. Roosevelt was shot and severely wounded when speaking -at Milwaukee a few years ago; a man of such intense affections -and such stirring convictions always has venomous enemies. -For this reason, when we take the Colonel through a crowd as -we did tonight, we completely surround him and use our elbows -and fists if need be to protect him. If any harm should come -to him, we would all be crushed. Tonight, however, he was -only liable to be hurt by the overwhelming love of Louisville -citizens.... Our relations with him could not be more cordial -and democratic. This noon Colonel Roosevelt was terribly -excited because Cronin and I did not get luncheon with him -owing to the prevalence of Kentucky politicians who swarmed -on the train like rats caught in a flood. He swore that he would -eat nothing tonight until we had been fed. Tonight at 7 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span> -the porter came into my compartment and announced that Mr. -Roosevelt was waiting dinner for Mr. Lewis and Mr. Cronin. -He still apologized although we protested that the chef had filled -our most prominent cavity successfully with sandwiches and -coffee at 3 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span> This gives you just one little glimpse of this -remarkable man. I could write all night along this line. Mind -you, he is taking all these precautions not for old friends but -for two newspaper men whom he has never seen before and whose -articles he has never read.</p> - -<p>“Tonight as he left the hall, I jumped around to his right -side, grabbed him by the arm and offered to act as a bumper -against his admirers who fought like bears to shake his hand. -He still remains the great idol of the American people. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312">312</a></span> -smiled at me, drew his arm through mine and we swayed, pushed, -and shoved our way out.</p> - -<p>“The Colonel is a little older than he used to be. I think -he will be fifty-eight the day we return to New York. At times, -in the thick of the excitement, an expression of fatigue flashes -across his features. There is a touch of sadness too, I believe, -in his face, as he looks out over these crowds of people who have -come for miles just to see him. He is not a candidate for President, -thanks to the Chicago Convention,—but in spite of all -these things which would discourage an ordinary man, he is -travelling four thousand miles to win the election.... If the -Colonel likes a person, he loves them with gigantic affection. -His favorite character in literature is Great Heart from ‘Pilgrim’s -Progress.’</p> - -<p>“We fought our way into the hall tonight after passing -through miles of streets lined with black and white people, standing -patiently in the rain just to see the Colonel go by. We had -a difficult time getting him out by the rear entrance for the larger -crowd which could not get inside insisted on a brief speech from -a bandstand outside. Then, we hustled back through the rain -to the railroad station, climbed on the train and now we are -approaching the Indiana border en route to Arizona through -Missouri and Kansas. We are to take our meals with the Colonel -three times a day. He promises that this rule will be lived up -to. He relies on us to read the daily newspapers, giving him -material. He never reads the papers as near as I can make out. -We look forward to these next days with great pleasure. We -are to tour the plains and run almost to the rim of the Grand -Canyon. The Colonel expects to present us to some of the old -horse thieves and other respectable men with whom he associated -in his cow-punching days!”</p> - -<p>October 21, 1916, near Phœnix:</p> - -<p>“The trip has been a wonderful experience for me in every -way. Think of chatting with the Colonel three times a day at -meals,—Mr. Roosevelt personally explaining the significance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313">313</a></span> -of every adobe, cactus, pinyon tree, or prairie dog! When we -go by a piece of desert, scorching in the white heat of sun-baked -alcali, T. R. recalls an experience thirty years ago, when he lost -some cattle that had sunk in quicksand in a dry river channel. -He has taken us into his absolute confidence. He tells us stories -and gives us opinions which if put on the telegraph would convulse -the country. We are all convinced that not only is he the -greatest American citizen, but also the greatest American humorist. -His sense of humor is as marvelous as his physical and -mental energy. To show you how thoughtful the Colonel is, -... listen to this:—two of his friends climbed aboard at Prescott -early this morning when I was shaving. That made two -extra for breakfast, so Cronin and I insisted upon waiting for -a second table. As we munched our toast and looked out at -the giant cacti swiftly flowing by our window, who should come -back to the table but T. R. ‘Are you boys getting enough to -eat?’ he asked, sitting down. ‘I am so sorry that this inconvenience -occurred. If my visitors had not been old friends who -had not breakfasted, I should never have permitted it.’ How -can a fellow help admiring a fellow like that, especially when he -is an ex-President and one of the most famous characters in the -world today?”</p> - -<p>October 24, near Albuquerque:</p> - -<p>“... It was nearly 100 sitting in the afternoon sun in front -of the speaking stand today. My cloth touring hat was too hot -for the occasion, but without it I imagine I would have keeled -over from prostration or gradually melted away under the press-stand. -When the Colonel got through, his face was dripping. -He delivered a corking talk. There was no heckling because -he had been tipped off to answer at the beginning, the question -as to what he would have done in Mexico had he been President. -After he got into his proper speech, and he read every -word of it, there were no interruptions except cheers of approval. -My confidential opinion is, however, that he realizes that while -these western crowds are for him personally, and cheer whenever<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314">314</a></span> -he shows his familiar face, they do not understand,—they -are not in down-right serious accord with, the doctrine he -preaches. The Republicans are up against a hopeless situation.... -The Roosevelt plan for compulsory military service, -and preparedness are not practical <em>this year</em> because they have -not wide-spread public support. The crowds come to hear -<em>Roosevelt</em>.... The crowds in this country are too busy making -money and planning how to make that money make some more, -to realize the deep-rooted appeal of Theodore Roosevelt to their -Americanism. Perhaps, through this hasty review of my impressions -in Arizona, you dear folks at home can enter into this -opportunity with me. I will have an interesting yarn to spin -when I return to vote.”</p> - -<p>October 25, leaving Denver for Chicago:</p> - -<p>“We are swinging down from the lofty Denver plateau surrounded -with white-topped mountain peaks, through the sugar-beet -and cattle farms to Nebraska. We shall wake up in Chicago -tomorrow morning on the last leg of our tour. Colonel -Roosevelt makes two or three speeches in Chicago and then -pulls out for New York. Everything was rush-rush-rush in -Denver.... We came by Colorado Springs and Pike’s Peak -at night but were all up, dressed and shaved when the enthusiastic -Denverites descended on the Colonel with bands, bombs, -bandannas, and general noise. Here was an old-fashioned, wild -demonstration for the ex-President. He had not been in Denver -for nearly six years. At one big meeting of 8000 women -he showed them the fallacy of Mr. Wilson’s argument, ‘I have -kept you out of war.’ He told them why he was for suffrage. -He had them with him from the start. All of this stuff was extemporaneous -and I had to write 1000 words on it. The night -meeting was a near-riot. We had a stiff fight to get the Colonel -out of the auditorium which is one of the largest halls in the -country. They have an excellent arrangement for getting the -speakers in—wide doors open like a circus and the automobile -with the Colonel and ourselves was driven close to the speaker’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315">315</a></span> -platform. Such a bedlam of noise I never heard. On the platform -were the women speakers from the women’s special train. -When they tried to speak, however, the crowd hooted them down -with cries of ‘We want Teddy—Give us Teddy and Sit down,’ -etc. Then as soon as he began to speak, the Wilson hecklers -started shouting, ‘Hurrah for Wilson’—it was all very exciting.... -‘Let me shake hands with the greatest President since -Lincoln,’ one old chap bawled, while I kept my fist under his -chin as we formed a ring around the Colonel, and half-shoved -and half-carried him to his automobile. The Colonel reached -his hand around back of his neck and grasped the old man’s -finger-tips, whereupon he subsided and fell back to tell his children -that this had been the greatest moment in his life.</p> - -<p>“There is no antagonism to the Colonel out here. Even -the Wilson supporters love Roosevelt. We have to protect him -against his friends, however.... There is a chap on the train -now, an old friend of the Colonel who has been collecting pictures -along the Mexican border. Some of the atrocities, particularly -the burning of bodies and the execution of soldiers are -the most gruesome sights I have ever seen. The Colonel mentions -them when he ridicules the cry that ‘Wilson has kept peace -in Mexico.’ He told me today that some day next week he will -entertain the four of us fellows at Oyster Bay at luncheon in -his home. He wants to show us the trophies room, filled with -relics from his African explorations and his early western life. -That will be a compliment to us as newspaper men on this trip.”</p> - -<p>Friday, October 27, Pullman private car leaving Buffalo.</p> - -<p>“We have just turned our watches ahead an hour, making -it 10:15, and signifying that we are back in the home zone of -eastern time. The trip is almost over. The rush and hustle -of the trip, and the speed with which we have had to write and -file our stories, make it seem a moving picture hodge-podge, -now that it is over. Take yesterday, for instance,—we pulled -into Chicago at 2 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span> and were greeted by one of the wildest -street demonstrations I have ever seen. The Colonel never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316">316</a></span> -sat down in his seat from the time he left the station until we -arrived at the Congress Hotel. He was up waving his wide-brimmed -black hat and bowing to the cheering mob. Every -minute there was a flash, ‘some miscreant photographer,’ as -T. R. calls them, had taken a bang at the Colonel. We had -less than an hour to check our baggage in our rooms, wash up, -arrange with the Western Union for filing stories, and get ready -to accompany the Colonel to the Auditorium Theatre across -the street.</p> - -<p>“Thanks to the excellent police arrangements, we were able -to walk unmolested through a human line of admirers who had -been pushed into place by the mounted police. At 8 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span> we -called to interview the Colonel just before he left for the stock-yards. -After the Women’s meeting Cronin and I had to run -for the Western Union to get a start on our story. We taxicabbed -back to the Congress Hotel, omitted dinner, and joined -the Roosevelt auto procession to the stock-yards pavilion which -is six miles out of Chicago. How those cars did shoot through -the wide Chicago streets, preceded by a motor squad police -patrol with the mufflers on the machines wide open. It seemed -more like going to a fire than riding to a political meeting.</p> - -<p>“In the mêlée of getting the Colonel into the hall, I got separated -from the party and found myself confronted with six -wooden-headed Chicago cops who refused to recognize the official -ticket of admission, distributed to members of the Roosevelt -party. I got by one of them by telling him that I had been -all the way to Arizona with the Colonel. ‘Well, I’ll be damned’ -he ejaculated. ‘If you’ve been in Arizona, there is no reason in -h—— why you can’t get in here.’ After I got inside, however, -there were more difficulties. The cops and ushers refused to -let me up on the platform with the Colonel and the other correspondents. -While I was fighting, pushing, and kicking around -in the crowd, I heard someone shout down from above, ‘We -want Mr. Lewis up here right away. Make way for Mr. Lewis.’ -I looked up and saw that James R. Garfield, son of President<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317">317</a></span> -Garfield, himself former Secretary of the Interior, had come to -my rescue. Mr. Garfield had been travelling with us for two -days, and with his assistance the rest was easy. I was almost -carried reverently to the platform and placed on a perfectly -good chair where I could see everything.</p> - -<p>“By the way,—Mr. Garfield, next to the Colonel, is the most -likeable, lovable man I met on this trip. He has a face that -you like to watch silently, and contemplate, because you know -how fine and corking he must be. I never heard such a long -demonstration as the one which greeted the Colonel as he stepped -out before 18,000 men and women, each of whom seemed to -have a small flag. It began at three minutes before eight and -it stopped at thirty-two minutes past eight. In that long interim -you could hear nothing but one continuous roar of cheering -shouts and stamping feet. There was nothing articulate, -no special cries distinguishable from others, just one blast as -though some Titan engineer had tied down the heavy chain -which released the whistle of 100,000 voice power. All efforts -to stop it were futile. There was nothing to do but to let it run -down. The band played ‘Gary Owen’ and the ‘Star Spangled -Banner’ and other selections,—T. R. beating time with a large -replica of a ‘Big Stick’ which had been handed to him. Meanwhile, -in this bedlam, Cronin and I were writing new ‘leads’ to -our story on pads in our laps. A Western Union man was sneaking -up to the platform every ten minutes to get copy which was -placed on wires on the pavilion. By writing this way, we got -the story into New York before eleven o’clock, that is, when -the meeting was over, by ten o’clock in Chicago; then there -was the rapid shooting ride back to the hotel, a little grub and -bath, and to bed. I <em>was</em> tired.</p> - -<p>“We left Chicago at 6.25 <span class="smcap">A. M.</span>, the Colonel’s car being -hitched behind a regular train on the New York Central. The -Colonel is fifty-eight years old today, as you will know, doubtless, -before this letter reaches New Britain. I discovered the -fact in reading his autobiography. He has been so fine to all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318">318</a></span> -of us; he has gone out of his way to make sure that we were -treated like members of his own family; he has entertained us, -as correspondents never were entertained; because what can -excel the most interesting American, if not the greatest, telling -anecdotes by the dozen of one of the most interesting, democratic, -dynamic, forcible careers in American History? A thought that -we ought to give him something to remember us by sprang -simultaneously into the minds of Yoder and myself.... Our -suggestions included a fountain-pen, pocket knife, or silver pencil—something -that he could use. We elected Yoder to scout -through the Colonel’s pocket. He went out on the observation -platform and casually asked the Colonel if he could borrow -his knife. ‘Yes—Yoder,’ T. R. said, digging into his pocket, ‘but -I am ashamed of it. The blades are rusty, the handle is cracked. -By George, I must get a new one.’ We decided after hearing -Yoder’s report, that a knife was the thing. A handsome, little, -flat, gold knife was picked out and the presentation came at -luncheon today. Odell, in his solemn way, said that I had found -out that he was born on October 27th. ‘Now, Colonel, you have -been telling us of many desperate characters you met in the -Southwest.... We decided, therefore, that you should have -a weapon. We have taken counsel and have determined to give -you a little reminder of our pleasure on this trip....’ The -Colonel took the little box, pulled forth the knife, and smiling -a more than Roosevelt smile, ‘By George, isn’t that fine!’ he -exclaimed. ‘I have never had a good pocket knife in all my life, -and I was going to buy one tomorrow. I shall always cherish -this gift,—I shall always carry it with me,’ whereupon he attached -it to the chain with his Phi Beta Kappa key and his little -pencil;—‘and I want to say that I have enjoyed immensely -having you with me, and the trip has been a pleasure to me -mainly because you young men have been such good company. -I am too old at the political game to enjoy making speeches. -I do not like it, but we have had a bully good time on this tour, -and we have met a lot of my old friends,—and now, gentlemen,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319">319</a></span> -remember this, if Mr. Hughes is elected on November 7th, I -shall never be seen in politics again. I am through.’ I felt -rather sorry to hear the Colonel say this. He is so energetic and -courageous, so full of the fighting spirit that we need to tone up -the national affairs, that it seems a pity to contemplate his retirement -before he attains 60. Of course, he will write his views for -the benefit of the reading public, but if he follows his inclination, -he will become a quiet figure in the background, leaving -younger men to carry through the ideas he created. We do not -believe that the American people, however, will ever permit him -to retire. Just as sure as Wilson is re-elected, there will be a -demand for Theodore Roosevelt in 1920. He knows it and he -is trying to start the talk now through us to show that it is the -last thing on earth he cares to do. He would, I think, have liked -to run <em>this year</em>; he would have liked to grapple with the -problems which will arise after the war is over, but he took his -licking at the hands of the old-line Republicans, and he really -wants to see their candidate elected.”</p> - -<p>On my brother’s return from this trip, so graphically described -by the young and able correspondent whose prophecy -that America would not let Theodore Roosevelt retire into obscurity -was so soon to come true, he continued, up to the evening -of the election, to hammer his opinions in strong, virile sentences -into the minds of the audiences before whom he spoke. -I was present in the Brooklyn Theatre, where the crowd was so -great that one of the newspapers reported the next day:</p> - -<p>“Say what you will,—there is no other one man in this country -that can draw as large a crowd as Theodore Roosevelt. He -is always an interesting talker as well as an interesting personality. -He is not running for <em>any</em> office this Fall, though to hear -some of the other speakers and to read some of the other newspapers, -one might be pardoned for thinking that he was running -for <em>all</em> of them.”</p> - -<p>It was at that great meeting in Brooklyn that he referred -to a speech made a few days before by President Wilson in Cincinnati.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320">320</a></span> -In the Cincinnati speech Mr. Wilson had made the -remark “that it would never be right for America to remain out -of <em>another</em> war.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Roosevelt, after ringing the changes on the fact that -what would be necessary in the future was in this case just as -necessary in the present, ended with a stirring exhortation and -the emphatic words: “Do it now, Mr. President.”</p> - -<p>In spite of Colonel Roosevelt’s strong plea that we should -take our stand shoulder to shoulder on the side of the Allies in -the great cause for which they were fighting, it must not be -thought for one moment that Theodore Roosevelt put internationalism -above nationalism. All through the exciting campaign -of 1916, he laid the greatest emphasis upon true Americanism. -At Lewiston, Maine, in August, 1916, he said: “I -demand as a matter of right that every citizen voting this year -shall consider the question at issue, from the standpoint of America -and not from the standpoint of any other nation.... The -policy of the United States must be shaped to a view of two -conditions only. First—with a view of the honor and interest -of the United States, and second—with a view to the interest -of the world as a whole. It is, therefore, our high and solemn -duty, both to prepare our own strength so as to guarantee our -own safety, and also to treat every foreign nation in every given -crisis as its conduct in that crisis demands.... Americanism -is a matter of the spirit, of the soul, of the mind; not of birthplace -or creed. We care nothing as to where any man was born -or as to the land from which his forefathers came, so long as -he is whole-heartedly and in good faith an American and nothing -else.... The policies of Americanism and preparedness taken -together mean applied patriotism. Our first duty as citizens -of the nation is owed to the United States, but if we are true -to our principles, we must also think of serving the interests of -mankind at large. In addition to serving our own country, we -must shape the policy of our country so as to secure the cause -of international right, righteousness, fair play and humanity.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321">321</a></span> -Our first duty is to protect our own rights; our second, to stand -up for the rights of others.”</p> - -<p>The above quotation seems to me to answer indisputably -the mistaken affirmation that “America First” could ever be -a selfish slogan.</p> - -<p>On October 24, 1916, a letter had been sent, directed to “The -Honorable Theodore Roosevelt, en route, Denver, Colorado.” -This missive was received on the special train from which young -Edwin Lewis had just written to his family the stirring letters -which I have quoted above. It is an interesting fact that the -letter which I am about to give was signed by men the majority -of whom had not followed Theodore Roosevelt on his -great crusade for a more progressive spirit in American politics. -Some of them had agreed with him in 1912, but the majority -had felt it their duty to remain inside of the political party to -which they had given their earlier faith. Now, in the moment -of the great crisis of our nation, these very men turned for leadership -to the man whom they realized was in truth the “noblest -Roman of them all.” The communication ran as follows:</p> - -<p>“It is our conviction that no other Presidential campaign -in the history of the nation ever presented graver issues or more -far-reaching problems than does this. Not only is the domestic -welfare of the nation profoundly to be affected by the result, -but the honor and the very safety of the Republic are at stake.... -In this momentous hour, the vital need is for such a presentation -of the issues as will arrest the widest attention and -carry the clearest message to the public mind, and this task we -commend to your hands. No living American has a greater -audience. You have done memorable service to your country -in awakening it to a sense of its perils and obligations and you -have revealed an unselfish patriotism that makes your voice -singularly potent in councils and inspiration. Will you not lend -it to the cause once more by addressing the people of the nation -from a vantage ground of a great mass meeting in the metropolis? -Under these circumstances, a message from Theodore<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322">322</a></span> -Roosevelt on America’s crisis would ring from coast to coast.... -The undersigned suggest Cooper Union as the place....”</p> - -<p>The signatures included many of the most distinguished -citizens of the various States of America. My brother accepted -this call to duty, although he had hoped to speak but little after -his exhausting campaign in the West. I regret to say that I -was not present at that meeting, at which, from what I have -heard, he spoke with a conviction and a spiritual intensity rare -even in him. The speech was called “The Soul of the Nation.”</p> - -<p>With burning words Theodore Roosevelt tried to arouse -the nation’s soul; with phrases hot from a heart on fire he portrayed -the place we should take by the side of the countries who -were fighting for the hope of the world, but the ears of the people -were closed to all but the words that we had been kept “out -of war.” The day of the Lord was not yet at hand.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323">323</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="XVII"></a>XVII.<br /> - -<span class="subhead">WAR</span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou gavest to party strife the epic note,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to debate the thunder of the Lord;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To meanest issues fire of the Most High.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hence eyes that ne’er beheld thee now are dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And alien men on alien shores lament.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Stephen Phillips on Gladstone. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Election</span> Day, 1916, dawned with the apparent success -of the Republican party at the polls, but it eventually -proved that the slogan, “He kept us out of war,” had -had its way, and that the Democrats were returned to power.</p> - -<p>Needless to say, the disappointment both to the followers -of Charles E. Hughes and of Theodore Roosevelt was keen beyond -words. My brother, however, following his usual philosophy, -set himself to work harder than ever to arouse his countrymen -to the true appreciation of the fact that, with Europe -aflame, America could hardly long remain out of the conflagration.</p> - -<p>During the following winter, however, in spite of the great -cloud that hung over the whole world, in spite of the intimate -knowledge that we all shared that neither would we nor could we -avoid the horror that was to come, occasionally there would be -brief moments of old-time gaiety in our family life, little intervals -of happy companionship, oases in the desert of an apprehension -that was in itself prophetic. I remember saying to my brother -one day: “Theodore, you know that I belong to the Poetry Society -of America, and a great many of its members wish to meet -you. I have really been very considerate of you, and although -this wish has been frequently expressed for some years in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_324">324</a></span> -society, I have spared you heretofore, but the moment has -come!” “Must I meet the poets, Pussie?” he said laughingly -and rather deprecatingly. “Yes,” I replied firmly. “The poets -have their rights quite as much as the politicians, and the time -for the poets is at hand.” “All right—name your day,” he answered, -and so a day was named, and I invited a number of my -friends amongst the poets to take tea with me on a certain afternoon -to meet Colonel Roosevelt. I remember I asked him to -try to come from his office early enough for me to jog his memory -about some of the work of my various poet friends, but a large -number of verse writers had already gathered in my sitting-room -before he arrived. I placed him by my side and asked a -friend to bring up my various guests so that I might introduce -them to him. I remember the care with which I tried to connect -the name of the person whom I introduced with some one of -his or her writings, and I also remember the surprise with which -I realized how unnecessary was all such effort on my part, for, as -I would say, “Theodore, this is Mr. So-and-So, who wrote such -and such,” he would rapidly respond, “But you need not tell me -that. I remember that poem very well, indeed,” and turning -with that delightful smile of his to the flattered author, he would -say, “I like the fifth line of the third verse of that poem of yours. -It goes this way,” and with that, in a strong, ringing voice, he -would repeat the line referred to. As each person turned away -from the word or two with him, which evidently gave him almost -as much pleasure as it gave them, I could hear them say to each -other, “How did he know that poem of mine?” When I myself -questioned him about his knowledge of modern American -poetry, he answered quite simply: “But you know I like poetry -and I try to keep up on that line of literature too.” He was -very fond of some of Arthur Guiterman’s clever verse, and quoted -with special pleasure a sarcastic squib which the latter had just -published on the navy, apropos of Mr. Daniels’s attitude: “We -are sitting with our knitting on the twelve-inch guns!”</p> - -<p>Robert Frost, who was with us that afternoon, had shortly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_325">325</a></span> -before published a remarkable poem called “Servant to Servants,” -which had attracted my brother’s attention, and of -which he spoke with keen interest to the author. Nothing distressed -him more than the realization of the hard work performed -by the farmer’s wife almost everywhere in our country, and in -this poem of Mr. Frost’s that situation was painted with his -forceful pen.</p> - -<p>This remarkable memory of my brother’s was shown not -only that afternoon amongst the poets, but shortly afterward -by an incident in connection with an afternoon at the Three -Arts Club, where he also generously consented to spend an hour -amongst the young girls who had come from various places in -our broad country to study one of the three arts—drama, music, -or painting—in our great metropolis. My friend Mrs. John -Henry Hammond, the able president of the Three Arts Club, -was anxious that he should meet her protégées and mine, for -I was a manager of the club. I remember we lined the girls -up in a row and had them pass in front of him in single file—several -hundred young girls. Each was to have a shake of the -hand and a special word from the ex-President, but none was -supposed to pause more than a moment, as his time was limited. -About fifty or sixty girls had already passed in front of him and -received a cordial greeting, when a very pretty student, having -received her greeting, paused a little longer and, looking straight -at him, said: “Colonel Roosevelt, don’t you remember me?” -This half-laughingly—evidently having been dared to ask the -question. Holding her hand and gazing earnestly at her, he -paused a moment or two and then, with a brilliant flashing smile, -said: “Of course I do. You were the little girl, seven years ago, -on a white bucking pony at El Paso, Texas, where I went down -to a reunion of my Rough Riders. I remember your little pony -almost fell backward into the carriage when it reared at the -noise of the band.” There never was a more surprised girl than -the one in question, for seven years had made a big difference -in the child of twelve, the rider of the bucking white pony, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_326">326</a></span> -it had really not occurred to her that he could possibly remember -the incident, but remember it he did, and one very happy heart -was carried away that day from the Three Arts Club.</p> - -<p>As the winter of 1917 slipped by, there was evidence on all -sides that the slogan on which the Democratic party had based -its campaign efforts must soon be falsified; nothing could keep -the American people longer from their paramount duty, and -on April 2, 1917, President Wilson appeared before the united -bodies of the House and the Senate in Washington, and asked -that Congress should declare a state of war between Germany -and ourselves. Colonel Roosevelt, always anxious to back up -the President in any action in which he thought he was right, -went to Washington, or rather stopped in Washington, for he -was in the South at the time, to congratulate him on his decision -and to offer his services to assist the President in any way that -might be possible.</p> - -<p>Within a few weeks of the actual declaration of war, Mr. -Roosevelt was already begging that he might be allowed to raise -a volunteer division, and urging that the administration Army -Bill should be supplemented with legislation authorizing the -raising of from one hundred to five hundred thousand volunteers -to be sent to the firing-line in Europe at the earliest possible -moment. In a letter to Senator George E. Chamberlain, -of Oregon, Colonel Roosevelt writes as follows:</p> - -<p>“I most earnestly and heartily support the administration -bill for providing an army raised on the principle of universal -obligatory military training and service, but meanwhile, let us -use volunteer forces in connection with a portion of the Regular -army, in order, at the earliest possible moment,—within a few -months,—to put our flag on the firing line. We owe this to humanity; -we owe it to the small nations who have suffered such -dreadful wrong from Germany. Most of all, we owe it to ourselves; -to our national honor and self-respect. For the sake -of our own souls, for the sake of the memories of the great Americans -of the past, we must show that we do not intend to make<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_327">327</a></span> -this merely a dollar war. Let us pay with our bodies for our -souls’ desire. Let us, without one hour’s unnecessary delay, -put the American flag at the battle-front in this great world -war for Democracy and civilization, and for the reign of Justice -and fair-dealing among the nations of mankind.</p> - -<p>“My proposal is to use the volunteer system not in the -smallest degree as a substitute for, but as the, at present, necessary -supplement to the obligatory system. Certain of the volunteer -organizations could be used very soon; they could be put -into the fighting in four months.... I therefore propose that -there should be added to the proposed law, a section based on -Section 12 of the Army Act of March 2nd, 1899....”</p> - -<p>At the same time Representative Caldwell made an open -statement as follows: “The Army Bill suggested by Secretary -Baker will, in all probability, be introduced in the House on -Wednesday. There have been suggestions made that a clause -be placed in the proposed bill which would give Colonel Roosevelt -the power to take an army division to Europe. Colonel -Roosevelt outlined his plans to me.... I am a Democrat -and intend to abide by the wishes of President Wilson and told -Colonel Roosevelt so. We agreed that there was no politics in -this matter, and from my talk with Mr. Roosevelt, I believe -him to be sincere in his purpose. He gave me the names of men -throughout the country who signified their intention of joining -his division. They include a number of men who served as officers -with him in the Spanish War, many college students, -former officers and members of the National Guard, all of whom -are in the best of physical condition and ready to go at a moment’s -notice. Colonel Roosevelt said that a large majority -of the men whom he hoped to take with him are from the south -and west.”</p> - -<p>Already, at the first intimation that Colonel Roosevelt might -lead a division into France, there had flocked to his standard -thousands of men, just as had been the case in the old days of -the Rough Riders. As immediate as was the rallying to his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_328">328</a></span> -standard were also the attacks made upon him for having wished -to dedicate himself to this patriotic enterprise, and one of the -most acrimonious debates that ever occurred in the Senate of -the United States was on the subject of the amendment to that -Army Bill. The Democrats, led by Senator Stone, had much -to say about the unfitness of the Colonel. They did not seem -to realize how strong was the desire of France to have America’s -best-known citizen go to her shores at the moment when her -morale was at the ebb; nor did they realize, apparently, the -promise for the future that there would be in the rapid arrival -of a large body of ardent American soldiers, well equipped to -tide over the period of waiting before a still larger force could -come to the assistance of the Allies.</p> - -<p>Senator Hiram Johnson, orator and patriot, made a glowing -defense of Colonel Roosevelt in answering Senator Stone. It -is interesting to realize at this moment, when former Senator -Harding is the President of the United States, that it was he -who offered the amendment to the Army Bill, making it possible -for Colonel Roosevelt to lead that division into France. -Senator Johnson said:</p> - -<p>“... I listened with surprise—indeed, as a senator of -the United States, with humiliation—to the remarks of the -senior senator from Missouri as he excoriated Theodore -Roosevelt and as he held up to scorn and contumely what -he termed contemptuously ‘The Roosevelt Division.’ What -is it that is asked for The Roosevelt Division? It is asked -only by a man who is now really in the twilight of life that he -may finally lay down his life for the country that is his. It is -only that he asks that he may serve that country, may go forth -to battle for his country’s rights, and may do all that may be -done by a human being on behalf of his nation. My God! When -was it that a nation denied to its sons the right to fight in its -behalf? We have stood shoulder to shoulder both sides of this -Chamber in this war. To say that Roosevelt desires, for personal -ambition and political favor hereafter, to go to war is to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_329">329</a></span> -deny the entire life of this patriot.... Our distinguished senator -has said that Roosevelt has toured the land in the endeavor -to do that which he desires. Aye, he has toured the land; he -toured the land for preparedness two and a half years ago, and -he was laughed at as hysterical. He toured the land two and a -half years ago and continuously since for undiluted Americanism, -and you said he was filled with jingoism. To-day <em>you</em> have -adopted <em>his</em> preparedness plan; to-day <em>his</em> undiluted Americanism -that he preached to many, to which but few listened, has -become the slogan of the whole nation. He toured the land for -patriotism!... After all, my friends, Roosevelt fought in -the past and he fought for the United States of America; after -all, he asks only that he be permitted to fight to-day for the -United States of America. He is accused of a lack of experience.... -There is one thing this man has—one thing that he has -proven in the life he has lived in the open in this nation—he -has red blood in his veins and he has the ability to fight and he -has the tenacity to win when he fights, and that is the sort of -an American that is needed and required in this war. I say to -you, gentlemen of this particular assemblage, that if a man can -raise a division, if he wishes to fight, die, if need be, for his country, -it is a sad and an awful thing that his motive shall be questioned -and his opinions assailed in the very act that is indeed -the closing act of his career.</p> - -<p>“Oh! for more Roosevelts in this nation; oh! for more men -who will stand upon the hustings and go about the country -preaching the undiluted Americanism that all of us claim to -have! Oh! for more Roosevelts and more divisions of men who -will follow Roosevelt! With more Roosevelts and more Roosevelt -divisions, the flag of the United States will go forth in this -great world conflict to the victory that every real American -should desire and demand.”</p> - -<p>Part of the afternoon just before the final vote on the above -amendment to that Army Bill was spent by Theodore Roosevelt -in my library in New York. Those were the days when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_330">330</a></span> -Mr. Balfour, M. Viviani, and General Joffre were receiving the -acclamation and the plaudits of the American people. At several -of the great ovations given to them, Theodore Roosevelt -was also on the platform, and it was frequently brought to my -notice by others that the tribute to him when he entered or left -the assemblage was equal in its enthusiasm to that for the distinguished -guests. On the afternoon to which I have referred, -the French ambassador came for a quiet cup of tea with me and -my brother, and to his old friend and his sister the Colonel was -willing to unbosom his heart. He spoke poignantly of his desire -to lead his division into France. Over and over again he repeated: -“The President need not fear me politically. No one -need fear me politically. If I am allowed to go, I could not last; -I am too old to last long under such circumstances. I should -<em>crack</em> [he repeated frequently: “I should <em>crack</em>”] but [with a -vivid gleam of his white teeth] I <em>could</em> arouse the belief that -America was coming. I could show the Allies what was on the -way, and then if I did crack, the President could use me to come -back and arouse more enthusiasm here and take some more -men over. That is what I am good for now, and what difference -would it make if I cracked or not!”</p> - -<p>The amendment <em>was</em> passed that made it possible for volunteers -to go to France, but the beloved wish of his heart was denied -by those in authority to that most eager of volunteers, -Colonel Theodore Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>In July my brother wrote an open letter of farewell, disbanding -the division for which there had been tentatively so -many volunteers. After a correspondence with the secretary -of war, a correspondence which Theodore Roosevelt himself -has given to the world, the definite decision was made that he -would not be allowed to “give his body for his soul’s desire,” -and shortly after that decision I sent him the following poem, -which had been shown to me by one of his devoted admirers, -the poet Marion Couthouy Smith. It ran as follows:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_331">331</a></span></p> - -<p class="p1 center larger">FAREWELLS</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“In old Fraunces Tavern,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once I was told<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Washington’s farewell to his generals,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Generals crowned with victory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tears filled my eyes.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“But when I read<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roosevelt’s letter disbanding his volunteers,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Volunteers despised and rejected,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tears filled my heart!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">In acknowledging the poem on July 3, 1917, from Sagamore -Hill, my brother writes:</p> - -<p>“I loved your letter; and as for the little poem, I prize it -more than anything that has been written about me; I shall -keep it as the epitaph of the division and of me. We have just -heard that Ted and Archie have landed in France. Lord Northcliffe -wired me this morning that Lord Derby offered Kermit a -position on the staff of the British army in Mesopotamia. [After -hard fighting in Mesopotamia, Kermit was later transferred to -the American forces in France.] I do not know when he will -sail. Quentin has passed his examinations for the flying corps. -He hopes to sail this month. Dick [Richard Derby, his son-in-law] -is so anxious to go down to Camp Oglethorpe that Ethel -is almost as anxious to have him go. Eleanor [young Theodore’s -wife] sails for France on Saturday to do Y. M. C. A. work. <em>I</em> -remain, as a slacker ‘malgré lui!’ Give my love to Corinne and -Joe and Helen and Teddy. I am immensely pleased about Dorothy’s -baby. [Dorothy, my son Monroe’s wife.] Edith asked -Fanny to come out on Friday with our delightful friend, Beebe -the naturalist. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Beebe is a great friend -of mine.”</p> - -<p>The “slacker malgré lui” accepted the gravest disappointment -of his life as he did any other disappointment—eyes forward,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_332">332</a></span> -shoulders squared, and head thrown back. It was hard -for him, however, to busy himself, as he said, with what he considered -“utterly pointless and fussy activities,” when his whole -soul was in the great conflict on the far side of the water, from -which one of his boys was not to return, and where two of the -others were to be seriously wounded.</p> - -<p>Writing on October 5, 1917, he says: “Of course I stood -by Mitchel.” This refers to a hot campaign which was waging -around the figure of the young mayor of New York City, John -Purroy Mitchel, who had given New York City the best administration -for many a long year and was up for re-election -but, unfortunately, due to many surprising circumstances, was -later defeated. My brother had the greatest admiration for the -fearlessness and ability of the young mayor, and later, when -that same gallant American entered the flying service and was -killed in a trial flight, no one mourned him more sincerely than -did the man who always recognized courage and determination -and patriotism in Democrat or Republican alike.</p> - -<p>About the same time, in speaking of General Franklin Bell, -who was in charge of Camp Upton, he says: “The latter is keenly -eager to go abroad. He says that if he is not sent, he will retire -and go abroad as a volunteer.” By a strange chance, a snapshot -was taken of the first division of drafted men sent to Camp -Upton just as they were passing the reviewing-stand, on which -stood together Franklin Bell, John Purroy Mitchel, and Theodore -Roosevelt. The expression on my brother’s face was one -so spiritual, so exalted in aspect, that I am reproducing the -picture.</p> - -<div id="if_i_332" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> - <img src="images/i_332.jpg" width="600" height="447" alt="" /> - <div class="captionl"><cite>From a photograph, copyright by Underwood and Underwood.</cite></div> - <div class="caption"> -<p>A review of New York’s drafted men before going into training in September, 1917.</p> - -<p class="smaller notbold">Neither Colonel Roosevelt nor his companions to the left and right, General Bell and -Mayor Mitchel, lived to see the final review.</p></div></div> - -<p>All through that autumn he gave himself unstintedly to -war work of all kinds, and amongst other things came, at my -request, to a “Fatherless Children of France” booth at the -great Allied Bazaar. The excitement in front of the booth as -he stood there was intense, and as usual the admirers who struggled -to shake his hand were of the most varied character. We -decided to charge fifty cents for a hand-shake, and we laughed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_333">333</a></span> -immoderately at the numbers of repeaters. One man, however, -having apparently approached the booth from curiosity, -said “it wasn’t worth it.” The indignation of the crowd was -so great that immediately there were volunteers to pay for three -and four extra hand-shakes to shame the delinquent!</p> - -<p>Shortly before that, a friend of Colonel John W. Vrooman’s -wrote to him about a certain meeting at the Union League Club -called to witness a send-off to some of the soldiers. The writer -says:</p> - -<p>“The moment Colonel Roosevelt appeared on the reviewing -stand he was recognized and the vicinity of the Club was -in an uproar. Later on when visiting a party in the private -dining room, he had only been in the room about three minutes -when he was recognized by the girls and boys who were looking -at the review from a building on the opposite side of the street. -Just to show you how he reaches the heart of the people, they -cheered and waved at him until his attention was attracted and -he had to go to the window and salute them. Although he was -an hour and a half in conversation in the club, he did not forget -his little friends across the way but on leaving, went to the window -and waved goodbye to them. Every youngster present -will relate this incident, I am sure, for a long time to come. In -leaving the Club house, he was set upon, it seemed to me, by -the youngsters of the East Side so that he had to beg his way -through the crowd that had been waiting in the rain three hours -just to see him, and in getting into the automobile, they appeared -to an on-looker to be clambering all over him, and I would -not be surprised if he carried a few of them away in his pockets -as he carried most of their little hearts with him.”</p> - -<p>In the midst of all the excitement, we occasionally snatched -a moment for a quiet luncheon. “Fine!” he writes me on November -5. “Yes,—Thursday,—the Langdon at 1:30. It will -be fine to see Patty Selmes.” How he did enjoy seeing our mutual -friend Patty Selmes that day! As “Patty Flandrau” of -Kentucky she had married Tilden Selmes just about the time<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_334">334</a></span> -that Theodore Roosevelt had taken up his residence in the Bad -Lands of Dakota, where the young married couple had also -migrated. Nothing was ever more entertaining than to start -the “don’t you remember” conversations between my brother -and his old friend Mrs. Selmes. Each would cap some wild -Western story of the other with one equally wild and amusing, -and the tales of their adventures with the Marquis de Morés -would have shamed Dumas himself!</p> - -<p>Another little note came to me shortly after the above, suggesting -that he should spend the night and have one of the old-time -breakfasts that he loved. “Breakfast is really the meal -for long and intimate conversation.” He writes the postscript -which he adds he knew would please my heart, for one of my -sons, owing to a slight defect in one eye, had had difficulty in -being accepted in the army, but through strong determination -had finally achieved a captaincy in the ammunition train of the -77th Division. My brother says in the postscript: “I genuinely -admire and respect Monroe.” About New Year’s eve a -letter came to my husband from him in answer to a congratulatory -letter on the fine actions of my brother’s boys. “Of course, -we are very proud of Archie, and General Duncan has just -written us about Ted in terms that make our hearts glow. -Well, there is no telling what the New Year has in store. The -hand of Fate may be heavy upon us, but we can all be sure that -it will not take away our pride in our boys. [My son Monroe -was expecting to be sent soon to France in the 77th Division, -and my eldest son, who had broken his leg, was hoping to get -into a camp when the leg had recovered its power.] I cannot -tell you, my dear Douglas, how much you and Corinne have -done for us and have meant to us during the last six months. -Ever yours, T. R.”</p> - -<p>In the “Life and Letters of George Eliot” she dwells upon -the fact that so many people lose the great opportunity of giving -to others the outward expression of their love and appreciation, -and as I re-read my brother’s treasured letters, I realize fully<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_335">335</a></span> -what the authoress meant, and how much the giver of such -honest and loving expression wins in return from those to whom -the happiness of appreciation has been rendered.</p> - -<p>The year 1917 was over; the American people once more -could look with level eyes in the faces of their allies in the great -world effort for righteousness. In the midst of thoughts of war, -in the midst of clamor of all sorts, in the midst of grave anxiety -for the sons of his heart, wearing a service pin with five stars -upon it—for he regarded his gallant son-in-law Doctor Richard -Derby as one of his own flesh and blood—Theodore Roosevelt -still had time to speak and write on certain subjects close in -another way than war to the hearts and minds of the people. -Writing for the <cite>Ladies’ Home Journal</cite> an article called “Shall -We Do Away with the Church?” he says certain things of permanent -import to the nation.</p> - -<p>“In the pioneer days of the West, we found it an unfailing -rule that after a community had existed for a certain length -of time, either a church was built or else the community began -to go downhill. In these old communities of the Eastern States -which have gone backward, it is noticeable that the retrogression -has been both marked and accentuated by a rapid decline in -church membership and work, the two facts being so interrelated -that each stands to the other partly as a cause and -partly as an effect.” After reviewing the self-indulgent Sunday -in contradistinction to the church-going Sunday, he says:</p> - -<p>“I doubt whether the frank protest of nothing but amusement -has really brought as much happiness as if it had been -alloyed with and supplemented by some minimum meeting of -obligation toward others. Therefore, on Sunday go to church. -Yes,—I know all the excuses; I know that one can worship the -Creator and dedicate oneself to good living in a grove of trees or -by a running brook or in one’s own house just as well as in a -church, but I also know that as a matter of cold fact, the average -man <em>does not</em> thus worship or thus dedicate himself. If he stays -away from church he does not spend his time in good works or in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_336">336</a></span> -lofty meditation.... He may not hear a good sermon at church -but unless he is very unfortunate he will hear a sermon by a -good man who, with his good wife, is engaged all the week long -in a series of wearing and hum-drum and important tasks for -making hard lives a little easier; and both this man and this -wife are, in the vast majority of cases, showing much self-denial, -and doing much for humble folks of whom few others think, and -they are keeping up a brave show on narrow means. Surely, -the average man ought to sympathize with the work done by -such a couple and ought to help them, and he cannot help them -unless he is a reasonably regular church attendant. Besides, -even if he does not hear a good sermon, the probabilities are -that he will listen to and take part in reading some beautiful -passages from the Bible, and if he is not familiar with the Bible, -he has suffered a loss which he had better make all possible haste -to correct. He will meet and nod to or speak to good, quiet -neighbors. If he doesn’t think about himself too much, he will -benefit himself very much, especially as he begins to think chiefly -of others....</p> - -<p>“I advocate a man’s joining in church work for the sake of -showing his faith by his works; I leave to professional theologians -the settlement of the question, whether he is to achieve -his salvation by his works or by faith which is only genuine if -it expresses itself in works. Micah’s insistence upon love and -mercy, and doing justice and walking humbly with the Lord’s -will, should suffice if lived up to.... Let the man not think -overmuch of saving his own soul. That will come of itself, if -he tries in good earnest to look after his neighbor both in soul -and in body—remembering always that he had better leave his -neighbor alone rather than show arrogance and lack of tactfulness -in the effort to help him. The church on the other hand -must fit itself for the practical betterment of mankind if it is -to attract and retain the fealty of the men best worth holding -and using.”</p> - -<p>Space forbids my quoting further from this, to me, exceptionally<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_337">337</a></span> -interesting article which closes with this sentence: “The -man who does not in some way, active or not, connect himself -with some active working church, misses many opportunities -for helping his neighbors and therefore, incidentally, for helping -himself.”</p> - -<p>And again, in an address at the old historic church of Johnstown -in Pennsylvania, he makes a great plea for the church of -the new democracy, and lays stress upon the fact that unless -individuals can honestly believe in their hearts that their country -would be better off without any churches, these same individuals -must acknowledge the fact that it is their duty to -uphold, by their presence in them, the churches which they know -to be indispensable to the vigor and stability of the nation.</p> - -<p>In the first week of February, 1918, he had arranged to come -to me for a cup of tea to meet one or two literary friends, and -the message came that he was not well and was going to the -hospital instead. The malignant Brazilian fever, always lurking, -ready to spring at his vitality, had shown itself in a peculiarly -painful way, and an operation was considered necessary. -As his own sons were far away, my son Monroe, who was soon to -sail for France, was able to assist in taking him to Roosevelt -Hospital, and there the operation was successfully performed; -but within twenty-four hours, an unexpected danger connected -with the ears had arisen, and for one terrible night the doctors -feared for his life, as the trouble threatened the base of the brain. -The rumor spread that he was dying, and on February 8th the -New York <cite>Tribune</cite> printed at the head of its editorial page this -short and touching sentence: “Theodore Roosevelt—listen! -You must be up and well again; we cannot have it otherwise; -we could not run this world without you.” At the time these -words were printed, I was told by my sister-in-law and by the -doctor that he wanted to speak to me (I had been in the hospital -waiting anxiously near his room) and that they felt that -it would trouble him if he did not have his wish; they cautioned -me to put my ear close down to his lips, for even a slight movement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_338">338</a></span> -of the head might bring about a fatal result. My readers -must remember what was happening on the other side of the -ocean as Theodore Roosevelt lay sick unto death in the city -of his birth. The most critical period of the Great War was -at hand. Very soon the terrible “March offensive” was to begin. -Very soon we were to hear that solemn call from General -Haig that his “back was against the wall.” We were all keyed -up to the highest extent; all of my brother’s sons were at the -front, my own son was about to sail, and at this most critical -moment the man to whom the youth of America looked for leadership -was stricken and laid low.</p> - -<p>As I entered the sick-room, all this was in my mind. Controlling -myself to all outward appearance, I put my ear close to -his lips, and these were the words which Theodore Roosevelt -said to his sister, words which he fully believed would be the -last he could ever say to her. Thank God he did speak to -me many times again, and we had eleven months more of close -and intimate communion, but at that moment he was facing -the valley of the shadow. As I leaned over him, in a hoarse -whisper he said: “I am so glad that it is not one of my boys -who is dying here, for <em>they</em> can die for their country.”</p> - -<p>As he gradually convalesced from that serious illness, many -were our intimate hours of conversation. The hospital was -besieged by adoring multitudes of inquirers. I remember taking -a taxicab myself one day to go there, and when I said to the -Italian driver, “Go to the Roosevelt Hospital,” the quick response -came: “You go see Roosevelt—they all go see Roosevelt—they -all go ask how Roosevelt is—he my friend, too—you tell -him get well for me.” Every sort of individual, as he grew -stronger, waited in the corridor for a chance to consult him on -this or that subject. Of course few were allowed to do so, but it -was more than ever evident by the throng of men, distinguished -in the public affairs of the country, who begged admittance even -for a few moments that the “Colonel” was still the Mecca -toward which the trend of political hope was turning!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_339">339</a></span> -After a brief rest at Oyster Bay he insisted upon keeping -the appointments to speak in various states, appointments the -breaking of which his illness had necessitated. His great ovation -in Maine showed beyond dispute how the heart of the Republican -party was turning to its old-time leader, and every war work, -needless to say, clamored for a speech from him. One of his -most characteristic notes was in connection with my plea that -he should speak at Carnegie Hall for the Red Cross on a certain -May afternoon. Josef Hofmann had promised to come all the -way from Aiken to play for the benefit if Theodore Roosevelt -were to be the speaker of the occasion, and in writing him on the -subject, I laid stress on the sacrifice of time and energy of the -great pianist, and in my zeal apparently gave the impression -that my brother was to do a great favor to Josef Hofmann rather -than the Red Cross, and he answers me humorously: “Darling -Corinne:—All right!—A ten-minute speech for the <em>pianist</em>. -That goes!” He always considered it a great joke that it was -necessary for Josef Hofmann to have him speak.</p> - -<p>That same May one lovely afternoon stands out most clearly. -John Masefield, the great English poet, had been several times -in the country. My brother knew his work well but had not -met him, and I had had that privilege. I wished to take him -to Oyster Bay, and the invitation was gladly forthcoming. It -proved fair and beautiful, and Mr. Masefield and I motored -out to luncheon. On the veranda at Sagamore Hill were my -brother and Mrs. Roosevelt, their daughter Mrs. Derby and -her lovely children, and later John Masefield took little Richard -on his lap and wove for him a tale to which we grown people -listened, my brother resting his eyes gladly on the little boy’s -head as he leaned against the poet. After the story was told, -we wandered off to a distant summer-house overlooking both -sides of the bay, and there Theodore Roosevelt and John Masefield -spoke intimately together of many things. It was a day -of sunlight in early spring, and the air was full “of a summer -to be,” but under the outward calm and beauty of the sun and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_340">340</a></span> -sea lay a poignant sadness for our sons who were in a distant -land, for the moment had come when the American troops were -to show their valor in a great cause.</p> - -<p>The day after the Carnegie Hall speech for the Red Cross, -one of his most flaming addresses, in which he pictured the young -men of America as Galahads of modern days, I wrote to him -of my gratitude and emotion, and he answers at once (how did -he ever find the time to answer so immediately so many letters -which came to him):</p> - -<p>“Darling Corinne:—That is a very dear letter of yours; your -sons and my sons were before my eyes as I spoke. I am leaving -tomorrow for the West until May 31st. I leave again on June -6th, returning on the 13th, and on Saturday, the 15th, must -go to a Trinity College function and stay with Bye. [Referring -to my sister, Mrs. Cowles.] Will you take me out in your motor -to Oyster Bay for dinner when I return?” Already he had -plunged into what he considered his active duty and was overtaxing -his strength—that strength only so lately restored, and -not entirely restored—in the service of his country.</p> - -<p>It was at Indiana University in June of that year that he -made one of his most significant pronouncements, a pronouncement -especially significant in the light of the so-called Sinn Fein -activities during the last two years in this country. He was -very fond of the Irish, and fond of many of the Irish-born citizens -of America, and always loved to refer to his own Irish blood, -but he had no sympathy whatsoever with certain attitudes taken -by certain Irish-born or naturalized Americans under the name, -falsely used, of patriotism, and he speaks his mind courageously -and clearly at Indiana University.</p> - -<p>“Friends, it is unpatriotic and un-American to damage -America because you love another country, but there is one -thing worse and that is to damage America because you hate -another country. The Sinn Feiner who acts against America -because he hates England is a worse creature than the member -of the German-American Alliance who has acted against<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_341">341</a></span> -America because he loves Germany. I want to point out this -bit of etymological information: Sinn Fein means ‘Us, Ourselves.’ -It means that those who adopt that name are fighting -for themselves, for a certain division of people across the sea. -What right have they to come to America? Their very name -shows that they are not American; that they are for themselves -against America.”</p> - -<p>In July, when I had been threatened with rather serious -trouble in my eyes, he again writes with his usual unfailing sympathy: -“I think of you all the time. I so hate to have you threatened -by trouble with your eyes or any other trouble. Edgar -Lee Masters spent a couple of hours here yesterday. Ethel and -her two blessed bunnies have gone. I miss Pitty Pat and Tippy -Toe frightfully.” Little “Edie,” his youngest granddaughter, -was a special pet, and rarely did one visit Sagamore at that time -without finding the lovely rosy baby in his arms. He could -hardly pass her baby-carriage when she slept without stopping -to look at her, for which nefarious action he was sometimes -severely chastised by the stern young mother. But the burning -heart of Theodore Roosevelt could hardly ever be assuaged -even by the sweet unconsciousness of the little children who -knew not of the dangers faced so gallantly by their father and -their mother’s brothers.</p> - -<p>America had been over fourteen months in the Great War -when an editorial appeared in one of the important newspapers -called “The Impatience of Theodore Roosevelt.” It ran as -follows:</p> - -<p>“There is a certain disposition to criticise Theodore Roosevelt -for what is termed his ultra views regarding the war. It -is not all captious criticism. Some people honestly feel that -he has been impatient and fault-finding. Much of the picture -is true. He <em>has</em> been impatient; he <em>has</em> taken what may be called -an ultra position; he <em>has</em> found fault, but we should like to point -out one very distinct fact. Theodore Roosevelt from the first -day we entered the war has stood unswervingly and whole-heartedly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_342">342</a></span> -for throwing the complete strength of the nation into the -war. For that matter, he held this position, preached this doctrine -long before we entered the war. He preached the draft, -he preached preparation, he preached the sending of the largest -possible army to France,—<em>from the beginning</em>. Now the fact -we wish to point out is that the country is not growing <em>away</em> -from Theodore Roosevelt’s position,—it is growing toward it. -It has been actually moving toward it of late very rapidly. This -is true not merely of the great mass of people, but of their representatives -at Washington, ... and perhaps even some members -of the Cabinet and the President himself. Practically -the whole nation <em>now</em> is unreservedly for throwing the whole -strength of the nation to the side of the allies. This was not -true a year ago today, although we had then been officially at -war with Germany for more than two months. Today the whole -nation stands where Theodore Roosevelt stood one year ago, -and two years ago, and three years ago.—In point of fact, ever -since the day when by the sinking of the <i>Lusitania</i>, Germany -declared itself an outlaw to the name of civilization. We do -not mean to say that Theodore Roosevelt was the nation’s sole -leader, but we do wish to say that he was very distinctly a leader, -and later, in the highest and best sense,—a man who saw, far -ahead of many others, what ought to be and what must be, and -then threw his whole heart and soul into bringing the nation -and many reluctant minds to his point of view. We write: He -may have been impatient; he may have found fault, but we -think that most Americans of whatever party color, if they -now have any regrets, have these regrets because we could not -earlier have come nearer to the ideal set up a year, or two years, -or three years ago by Theodore Roosevelt. If this is not one -of the highest standards of leadership, we do not understand -the meaning of the term.”</p> - -<p>Events were moving rapidly. Our American soldiers were -already playing a gallant part in the terrible drama enacted -on the fields and forests of France and in the fastnesses of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_343">343</a></span> -Italian hills. News had come of “Archie’s” wounds and of -“Ted’s” wounds, and Quentin had already made his trial -flights, while Kermit had been transferred from the British -army to his own flag.</p> - -<p>Political events in America were also marching rapidly forward. -Already, wherever one lent a listening ear, the growing -murmur rose louder and louder that Theodore Roosevelt was -the only candidate to be nominated by the Republican party -in 1920. The men who had parted from him in 1912, the men -who had not rallied around him in 1916, were all eagerly ranging -themselves on the side of this importunate rumor. A culminating -moment was approaching. It was the middle of July, -and the informal convention of the Republican party in New -York State was about to take place at Saratoga. My eldest son, -State Senator Theodore Douglas Robinson, led a number of men -in the opposition of the then incumbent of the gubernatorial -chair, Charles S. Whitman. The hearts of many were strong -with desire that my brother himself should be the Republican -nominee for the next governor of New York State. No one -knew his attitude on the subject, but he had promised to make -the address of the occasion, my son having been appointed to -make the request that he should do so. My husband and I had -arranged to meet him in Saratoga, my son having preceded us -to Albany to make all the formal arrangements. The day before -the convention was to take place the terrible news came -that Quentin was killed. Of course there was a forlorn hope -that this information might not be true, that the gallant boy -might perhaps have reached the earth alive and might already -be a prisoner in a German camp, but there seemed but little -doubt of the truth of the terrible fact. My son telephoned me -the news from Albany before the morning paper could arrive -at my country home, and at the same time said to me that he -did not feel justified in asking his Uncle Theodore whether he -still would come to Saratoga, but that he wanted me to get this -information for him if possible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_344">344</a></span> -My country home in the Mohawk Hills of New York State is -many miles from Sagamore Hill on Long Island, and it was difficult -to get telephone connection. My heart was unspeakably -sore and heavy at the thought of the terrible sorrow that had -come to my sister-in-law and my brother, and I shrank from -asking any question concerning any matter except the sad news -of the death of Quentin, or imminent danger to him. My brother -himself came to the telephone; the sound of his voice was as -if steel had entered into the tone. As years before he had written -me from South Africa in my own great sorrow, he had “grasped -the nettle.” I asked him whether he would like me to come -down at once to Oyster Bay, and his answer was almost harsh -in its rapidity: “Of course not—I will meet you in Saratoga -as arranged. It is more than ever my duty to be there. You -can come down to New York after the convention.” The very -tone of his voice made me realize the agony in his heart, but -duty was paramount. The affairs of his State, the affairs of -the nation, needed his counsel, needed his self-control. His -boy had paid the final price of duty; was he, the father who had -taught that boy the ideal of service and sacrifice, to shrink in -cowardly fashion at the crucial moment?</p> - -<p>The next day I met him in Albany and motored him to Saratoga. -His face was set and grave, but he welcomed my sympathy -generously. Meanwhile, the night before there had been -great excitement in Saratoga. A number of delegates were in -favor of renominating Governor Charles S. Whitman on the -Republican ticket, but a large and important group of men, -in fact, the largest and most important group in the Republican -party of New York State, were extremely anxious that Colonel -Roosevelt should allow his name to be brought forward as a -candidate for governor. Elihu Root, William Howard Taft, and -many of the weighty “bosses” of the various counties lent all -their efforts toward this achievement. Colonel Roosevelt, on his -arrival in Saratoga, took a quiet luncheon with my family, Mrs. -Parsons, and myself, after which we adjourned to the large hall<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_345">345</a></span> -in which the convention was to be held. I remember before -we left him that Mrs. Parsons suggested the insertion of a sentence -in the speech which he was about to make, and his immediate -and grateful response to the suggestion. No one had a -more open mind to the helpful suggestion of others.</p> - -<p>The great hall was already filled to overflowing when we arrived, -and it was difficult for us to find our seats, even although -they had been carefully reserved for us. The atmosphere of -the crowd in the great building was different from that of any -concourse of people who had hitherto waited the coming of -Theodore Roosevelt. At other times, in other crowds, when -their favorite leader was expected, there had always been a quality -of hilarity and gay familiarity showing itself in songs and -demonstrations in which the oft-repeated “We want Teddy—we -want Teddy” almost always was heard, but in this great -assemblage there was a hushed silence and solicitude for their -beloved friend, a personal outflowing of silent sympathy for the -man whose youngest, whose “Benjamin,” had so lately paid -the final price, and even a few minutes later, when to the strains -of the “Star-Spangled-Banner,” Colonel Roosevelt was escorted -up the aisle by my son, Senator Robinson, and Congressman -Cox, from his own Nassau County, the many faces turned eagerly -to watch him showed in strained eyes and set though quivering -lips their efforts at self-control. As he began his speech, we realized -fully that he was holding himself firmly together, but as he -poured out his message of Americanism, as he pleaded for the -finer and truer patriotism to be brought more closely and -definitely into political action, he lost the sense of the great bereavement -that had come to him, in his dedication anew to the -effort to arouse in his countrymen the selfless desire for service, -with which he had always fronted the problems of his own -life. Toward the end of the speech, though he never referred -to his sorrow, the realization of it again gripped him with -its inevitable torture, and again the people who sat in breathless -silence—listening to one to whom they had always listened—followed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_346">346</a></span> -in their hearts the hard path that he was bravely -treading.</p> - -<p>The convention adjourned, and he asked the leaders to wait -until the following day, at least, for his answer to the Round-Robin -request which had been sent to him, but he did not give -much hope that he would look favorably upon their desire that -he should allow his name to be put in nomination as candidate -for governor. I motored him back to Albany and took the train -with him for New York. In recalling the hours of intercourse -that afternoon and early evening, the great impression made -upon my mind by his attitude was one of ineffable gentleness. -Never was he more loving in his interest about me and mine; -never was he less thoughtful of self. I realized that he needed -quiet, and when I found that my seat was in a different car from -his, although several people offered to change their seats with -me, I felt that after our drive together, it would do him more -good to be alone and read than to try to talk to me. I told him -I would order our dinner and would come back for him when -it was time for the meal, and I left him with his usual book in -his hand. When I came back, however, I stood behind him for -a moment or two before making myself known to him again, and -I could see that he was not reading, that his sombre eyes were -fixed on the swiftly passing woodlands and the river, and that -the book had not the power of distracting him from the all-embracing -grief which enveloped him. When I spoke, however, -he turned with a responsive smile, and during our whole meal -gave me, as ever, the benefit of his delightful knowledge of all -the affairs of the world.</p> - -<p>Only once during our talk did he speak of the Round-Robin, -and especially of my son’s desire that he should be the -nominee for governor. He used an expression in discussing the -matter which gave me at once a sense of almost physical apprehension. -Looking at me gravely, he said: “Corinne, I have -only one fight left in me, and I think I should reserve my strength -in case I am needed in 1920.” The contraction of my heart was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_347">347</a></span> -swift and painful, and I said: “Theodore, you don’t feel really ill, -do you?” “No,” he said; “but I am not what I was and there -is only one fight left in me.” I suggested that that fight would -probably be made easier by this premonitory battle, but he shook -his head and I could see that there was but little chance of his -undertaking the factional warfare of a state campaign, nor did -he seem to feel, as did some others, that to win the election for -governor of New York State would be of distinct advantage -in connection with the great fight to come in 1920. The following -week Theodore Roosevelt definitely refused to let his name -be put before the people as a candidate for the governorship -of the Empire State.</p> - -<p>That evening on arriving late in New York, he would not let -me go to the Langdon Hotel with him, but insisted on taking me -to my own house. The next morning I went early to the Langdon, -hoping for better news, and saw my sister-in-law, whose wonderful -self-control was a lesson to all those who have had to meet -the ultimate pain of life. I could see that she had but little hope, -but for my brother’s sake, until the actual confirmation of Quentin’s -death, she bravely hoped for hope. Later, Colonel Roosevelt -made a statement from Oyster Bay in connection with the -many telegrams and cables of sympathy which they received. -He said: “These messages were not meant for publication but -to express sympathy with Quentin’s father and mother, and -sorrow for a gallant boy who had been doing his duty like hundreds -of thousands of young Americans. Many of them indeed, -I think, were really an expression of sympathy from the mothers -and fathers who have gladly and proudly, and yet with sorrow, -seen the sons they love go forth to battle for their country and -the right. These telegrams, cables, and letters show the spirit -of our whole people.”</p> - -<p>The noble attitude of my brother and sister-in-law roused -deep admiration, and I have always felt that their influence -was never more felt than when with aching hearts they continued -quietly to go about their daily duties.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_348">348</a></span> -On August 3d a letter came to me from Dark Harbor, Maine, -where Colonel and Mrs. Roosevelt had gone to visit their daughter -Mrs. Derby. “Darling Corinne:—Indeed it would be the -greatest pleasure—I mean that exactly,—to have you bring little -Douglas to Sagamore in the holidays. [He refers to my grandson, -the son of Theodore Douglas Robinson.] All the people -here are most considerate and the children a comfort. Little -Edie is as pretty as a picture and a little darling; she has been -very much of a chimney swallow this morning, clinging to whoever -will take her up and cuddle her.” In the latter part of the -letter he refers to my own great loss nine years before of my youngest -son in his twentieth year, and says: “Your burden was even -harder to bear than ours, for Stewart’s life was even shorter -than Quentin’s and he had less chance to give shape to what -there was in him, but, after all, when the young die at the crest -of their life, in their golden morning, the degrees of difference are -merely degrees in bitterness; and yet, there is nothing more cowardly -than to be beaten down by sorrows which nothing we can -do will change. Love to Douglas, Helen and Teddy, and to -Fanny if she is with you.” The sentence of this brave letter in -which my brother speaks of its being “cowardly to be beaten -down by sorrows which nothing we do can change” is typical of -the attitude which he had preserved through his whole life. -Theodore Roosevelt was a great sharer and a great lover, but -above all else he was essentially the courageous man who faced -squarely whatever came, and by so facing conquered.</p> - -<p>A few days later, again a dear letter came from Dark Harbor, -and once more he dwells upon the baby girl who comforted him -with her sweet, unconscious merriment. He says: “She is such -a pretty little baby and with such cunning little ways. I fear -I am not an unprejudiced witness. The little, curly-headed -rascal is at this moment, crawling actively around my feet in -her usual, absurd garb of blue overalls, drawn over her dainty -dresses, because otherwise, she would ruin every garment she -has on and skin her little bare knees. I heartily congratulate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_349">349</a></span> -Teddy on going to camp. Give Corinne and Helen my dearest -love and to all the others too.” The congratulations sent to -my eldest son were indeed deserved, for the serious break to his -leg having at last fully recovered, and a new camp near Louisville, -Ky., having been started for men above the draft age, -my son with real sacrifice resigned from his position in the -Senate (having just been nominated for a second term), and -started for Camp Taylor, where later he received his commission. -My brother was very proud of the fact that, with hardly -an exception, each son, nephew, or cousin of the Roosevelt and -Robinson family was actively enrolled in the country’s service.</p> - -<p>On August 18, having returned to Sagamore Hill, a little -line comes to me of appreciation of a poem that I had written -called “Italy.” “I am particularly glad you wrote it,” he says, -and referring to my son-in-law, he continues: “Joe and Corinne -lunched here yesterday; they were dear,—I admire them both -so much.” He never failed, as I have said before, in giving me -the joy of knowing when he admired those most dear to me. -The following day, August 19, Mr. Colgate Hoyt, a generous -neighbor, wrote to Colonel Roosevelt making the suggestion -that a monument should be erected in honor of Quentin in some -permanent place in the village of Oyster Bay, as Mr. Hoyt -thought it would have an educational influence and value, as -Quentin was the first resident of Oyster Bay (and the first officer) -to make the supreme sacrifice in giving his life for his country. -Mr. Hoyt wished to start this movement, but Colonel Roosevelt -sent the following reply, a copy of which Mr. Hoyt gave me:</p> - -<p>“My dear Mr. Hoyt:—That is a very nice letter of yours, -but I do not think it would be advisable to try to put up a monument -for Quentin. Of course, individually, our loss is irreparable -but to the country he is simply one among many gallant boys -who gave their lives for the great Cause. With very hearty -thanks, Faithfully yours.”</p> - -<p>The above letter and his statement that he and Quentin’s -mother would prefer that their boy should lie where he fell were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_350">350</a></span> -but what would have naturally been expected of Colonel and -Mrs. Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>In September, 1918, Theodore Roosevelt made an address -on Lafayette Day, part of which ran as follows:</p> - -<p>“Lafayette Day commemorates the service rendered to -America in the Revolution by France. I wish to insist with all -possible emphasis that in the present war, France, England, -and Italy and the other Allies have rendered us similar services.... -They have been fighting for us when they were fighting -for themselves. [My brother was only repeating in 1918 what -he had stanchly declared from the autumn of 1914.] Our army -on the other side is now repaying in part our debt. It is now -time and it is long behind time for America to bear her full share -of the common burden.... It is sometimes announced that -part of the Peace Agreement must be a League of Nations which -will avert all war for the future and put a stop to the need of -this nation preparing its own strength for its own defense. In -deciding upon proposals of this nature, it behooves our people -to remember that competitive rhetoric is a poor substitute for -the habit of resolutely looking facts in the face. Patriotism -stands in national matters as love of family does in private life. -Nationalism corresponds to the love a man bears for his wife -and children. Internationalism corresponds to the feeling he -has for his neighbors generally. The sound nationalism is the -only type of really helpful internationalism, precisely as in -private relations, it is the man who is most devoted to his own -wife and children who is apt in the long run to be the most satisfactory -neighbor. The professional pacifist and the professional -internationalist are equally undesirable citizens. The American -pacifist has in the actual fact shown himself to be the ally -of the German militarist. We Americans should abhor all wrong-doing -to other nations. We ought always to act fairly and generously -by other nations, but, we must remember that our first -duty is to be loyal and patriotic citizens of our <em>own</em> nation. Any -such League of Nations would have to depend for its success<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_351">351</a></span> -upon the adhesion of nine other nations which are actually or -potentially the most powerful military nations; and these nine -nations include Germany, Austria, Turkey, and Russia. The -first three have recently and repeatedly violated and are now -actively and continuously violating not only every treaty but -every rule of civilized warfare and of international good faith. -During the last year, Russia under the dominance of the Bolshevist -has betrayed her Allies, has become the tool of the German -autocracy and has shown such utter disregard of her national -honor and plighted word and her international duties that she -is now in external affairs the passive tool and ally of her brutal -conqueror, Germany.</p> - -<p>“What earthly use is it to pretend that the safety of the -world would be secured by a League in which these four nations -would be among the nine leading partners? Long years must -pass before we can again trust in promises these four nations -make. Therefore, unless our folly is such that it will not depart -from us until we are brayed in a mortar, let us remember that -any such treaty will be worthless unless our own prepared -strength renders it unsafe to break it.... Let us support any -reasonable plan whether in the form of a League of Nations or -in any other shape which bids fair to lessen the probable number -of future wars and to limit their scope, but let us laugh at all -or any assertions that any such plan will guaranty Peace and -Safety to the foolish, weak, or timid characters who have not -the will and the power to prepare for their own defense. Support -any such plan which is honest and reasonable, but support -it as a condition to and never as a substitute for the policy of -preparing our own strength for our own defense.</p> - -<p>“I believe that this preparation should be, by the introduction -in this country of the principle of universal training and -universal service, as practised in Switzerland, and modified, -of course, along the lines enacted in Australia, and in accordance -with our needs. There will be no taint of Prussian militarism -in such a system. It will merely mean to fit ourselves for self-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_352">352</a></span>defense -and a great democracy in which order, law, and liberty -are to prevail.”</p> - -<p>I have quoted this speech because I am under the impression -that it was his first actual declaration of any attitude toward -a proposed League of Nations. In the early autumn of -1914 Theodore Roosevelt himself had written an article for -the New York <cite>Times</cite> syndicate in which he suggested the possibility -of a League of Nations, and the fact that he did make -that suggestion was frequently used after his death—and, I -think, in an unjustifiable manner—by the adherents of the Wilsonian -League of Nations, with the desire to make the American -public feel that my brother would have been in favor of Mr. -Wilson’s league. In every pronouncement in connection with -a tentative or possible league, my brother invariably laid stress -upon an absolutely Americanized type of association. I asked -him once about his article written in 1914, and he told me that -while still hoping that some good might come from a league or -association of nations, his serious study of world situations -during the Great War had made him less optimistic as to the possibility -of reaching effective results through such a possible league -or association.</p> - -<p>In another speech at about the same time, he said, in characteristic -fashion: “I frequently meet one of those nice gentry -in whom softness of heart has spread to the head, who say: -‘How can we guaranty that everybody will love one another at -the end of the war?’ The first step in guarantying it is to knock -Germany out!”</p> - -<p>On September 12 my husband, Douglas Robinson, the unfailing -friend and devoted brother of Theodore Roosevelt, died -very suddenly, and my brother and sister-in-law hurried to -the old home on the Mohawk Hills which my husband had -loved so well. Putting themselves and their own grief for -Mr. Robinson and their own late personal sorrow entirely aside, -they did all that could be done by those we love to help me in -every way. My brother had always cared for Henderson House,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_353">353</a></span> -its traditions and its customs, and even in the midst of the sorrow -which now hung over the old place, he constantly spoke to me -of his appreciation of its atmosphere. At the time of my husband’s -death my eldest son came quickly back for two days from -the camp where he was training, to his own home adjoining -mine, and his children were with us constantly during those -days, as were the children of my nephew and niece, Hall and -Margaret Roosevelt, who occupied a little cottage on my place. -I remember with what tender thoughtfulness my brother withdrew -himself on the Sunday afternoon after the funeral and -wrote a long letter to my second son, Monroe, a captain in the -77th Division, then in the Argonne Forest in France. Just as -he had found comfort in his own little grandchildren during those -hard days at Dark Harbor, Maine, so, while facing the great -loss of his lifelong and devoted friend and brother-in-law, he -turned to an affectionate intercourse with the little ones of -the youngest generation of the family, and on September 19, -when he had left me and gone to Oyster Bay, he writes: “I -think of you with tenderest love and sympathy all the time. -I cannot get over my delight in Helen and Teddy’s darling -children; and I loved Margaret’s brace of little strappers also. -Archie and Gracie have hired a little apartment in town.” -His son Captain Archibald Roosevelt had returned from France -sorely wounded in both arm and leg, wounds and disabilities -which he bore with undaunted patience and courage.</p> - -<p>On October 13, in response to a letter of mine in which I -told him that a Monsieur Goblet had wished the honor of dedicating -to him a poem, and at the same time had also asked the -privilege of translating my verses “To France” into the French -language, he writes to me:</p> - -<p>“I have written to M. Goblet as you suggested; I feel that -you have every right to be really pleased with what he says -about your poem—a noble little poem.</p> - -<p>“How admirably Monroe has done. It is astonishing how -many men I meet who speak of Douglas [my husband] not only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_354">354</a></span> -with deep affectionate regard but with a keen sense of the loss -of an exceptionally vigorous and powerful personality. Tell -Helen that I am really counting on that visit from her delightful -children. Their attitude touched me very much. I am much -concerned at what you tell me about gallant Bye’s health. Give -her my dearest love.”</p> - -<p>My sister, Mrs. Cowles, was even more delicate than usual -that autumn, and I was with her at the time he wrote me the -above letter. His admiration for our older sister was unbounded, -and her splendid dauntless attitude toward the physical pain -she suffered, and her unbroken patience through suffering, never -failed to awake in him a responsive appreciation.</p> - -<p>About that time President Wilson entered into a correspondence -with Germany of which my brother disapproved. On -October 13 he dictated the following statement at his home on -Sagamore Hill:</p> - -<p>“I regret greatly that President Wilson has entered into -these negotiations, and I trust they will be stopped. We have -announced that we will not submit to a negotiated Peace, and -under such conditions, to begin negotiations is bad faith with -ourselves and our Allies.”</p> - -<p>Again on October 25, in an open letter to his intimate friend -Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, “Let us,” he says, “amongst other -things, dictate Peace by the hammering of guns, and not talk -about Peace to the accompaniment of the clicking of typewriters.”</p> - -<p>Although the extracts which follow were written and published -several weeks later than the above quotations, I prefer -to give them in this connection, for Colonel Roosevelt’s attitude -toward “Peace without victory” and a probable League of -Nations has been so often misrepresented. The Kansas City -<cite>Star</cite>, the newspaper with which Colonel Roosevelt had actual -connection during the last year of his life, published an editorial -after his death in answer to a remark made by Senator Hitchcock, -chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, in which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_355">355</a></span> -he expressed the opinion that if Colonel Roosevelt were alive, -“he would be found supporting the League of Nations as ardently -as President Wilson.”</p> - -<p><cite>The Star</cite> denied this assertion, and said:</p> - -<p>“From the beginning of the discussion of the proposed -League, <cite>The Star</cite> has been anxious to find practical features -which it could support as a real defense toward lasting peace. -In the last weeks of 1918, the matter was taken up with Colonel -Roosevelt who proved to be of the same mind. He recognized -the war weariness of the world,—a weariness in which he shared -to the full—and was anxious to further any practical step in -international organization. The difficulty was to find the practical -basis. After his first editorial approving certain principles -of a League, a member of <cite>The Star</cite> staff discussed the matter -with him late in December at the Roosevelt Hospital. The -suggestion was made that in a contribution he might point out -certain things which a loosely organized League might accomplish. -He replied that he could see so little that it might accomplish, -in comparison with the rosy pictures that had been -painted of its possibilities, that he hesitated to write on that -line.</p> - -<p>“In the course of correspondence, he wrote under date of December -28th, 1918: ‘In substance, or as our friends the diplomats -say, in number, I am in hearty accord with you.... -But remember that you are freer to write unsigned editorials -than I am when I use my signature. If you propose a little -more than can be carried out, no harm comes, but if I do so, it -may hamper me for years. However, I will do my best to write -you such an article as you suggest and then, probably, one on -what I regard as infinitely more important, viz., our business to -prepare for our own self-defense.’ A few days later, almost on the -eve of his death, he wrote the following article printed in <cite>The -Star</cite> on January 13th. It was dictated at his home in Oyster -Bay on January 3rd, the Friday before his death, and his secretary -expected to take the typed copy to him for correction the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_356">356</a></span> -following Monday, the very Monday of his death. The following -then, his final article, represents his matured judgment based -on protracted discussion and correspondence. It is of peculiar -importance as the last message of a man who, above every other -American of his generation, combined high patriotism, practical -sense and a positive genius for international relations.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center larger"><span class="smcap">By Theodore Roosevelt</span></p> - -<p>“It is, of course, a serious misfortune that our people are not -getting a clear idea of what is happening on the other side. For -the moment, the point as to which we are foggy is the League -of Nations. We all of us earnestly desire such a league, only -we wish to be sure that it will help and not hinder the cause of -world peace and justice. There is not a young man in this country -who has fought, or an old man who has seen those dear to -him fight, who does not wish to minimize the chance of future -war. But there is not a man of sense who does not know that -in any such movement if too much is attempted the result is -either failure or worse than failure.</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>“Would it not be well to begin with the league which we actually -have in existence, the league of the Allies who have fought -through this great war? Let us at the peace table see that real -justice is done as among these Allies, and that while the sternest -reparation is demanded from our foes for such horrors as those -committed in Belgium, northern France, Armenia, and the sinking -of the <i>Lusitania</i>, nothing should be done in the spirit of mere -vengeance. Then let us agree to extend the privileges of the -league as rapidly as their conduct warrants it to other nations, -doubtless discriminating between those who would have a guiding -part in the league and the weak nations who would be entitled -to the privileges of membership, but who would not be -entitled to a guiding voice in the councils. Let each nation reserve -to itself and for its own decision, and let it clearly set forth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_357">357</a></span> -questions which are non-justiciable. Let nothing be done that -will interfere with our preparing for our own defense by introducing -a system of universal obligatory military training -modelled on the Swiss plan.</p> - -<p>“Finally make it perfectly clear that we do not intend to take -a position of an international Meddlesome Matty. The American -people do not wish to go into an overseas war unless for a -very great cause and where the issue is absolutely plain. Therefore, -we do not wish to undertake the responsibility of sending -our gallant young men to die in obscure fights in the Balkans -or in Central Europe, or in a war we do not approve of. Moreover, -the American people do not intend to give up the Monroe -Doctrine. Let civilized Europe and Asia enforce some kind of -police system in the weak and disorderly countries at their -thresholds. But let the United States treat Mexico as our Balkan -peninsula and refuse to allow European or Asiatic powers -to interfere on this continent in any way that implies permanent -or semi-permanent possession. Every one of our Allies will with -delight grant this request if President Wilson chooses to make -it, and it will be a great misfortune if it is not made.</p> - -<p>“I believe that such an effort made moderately and sanely -but sincerely and with utter scorn for words that are not made -good by deeds, will be productive of real and lasting international -good.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>No one has the right to declare what Theodore Roosevelt -would or would not have done or said in connection with international -problems as they arose, after his death, but every one -has the right to quote his own words, written under his own signature, -and no words could be stronger than those in which he -made his plea for America First and for sound nationalism. But -I have voluntarily gone far afield from my actual narrative.</p> - -<p>Events continued to move with astounding rapidity in that -autumn of 1918. My heart, like the heart of many another -mother, was wrung by the news of the terrible fighting in the -Argonne Forest, and again wrung by alternate hopes and fears<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_358">358</a></span> -as the October days drew to a close. On the 27th day of October -my brother celebrated his sixtieth birthday under the quiet -portal of his beloved home. As usual, I had sent to him my -yearly message, in which I always told him what that day meant -to me—the day when into this world, this confused, strange -world that we human beings find so difficult to understand, -there came his clarifying spirit, his magnetic personality, his -great heart, ready always to help the weak and lift the unfortunate -who were trying to lift themselves. I used to tell him that -as long as he lived, no matter what my own personal sorrows -were, life would retain not only happiness but also glamour for -me.</p> - -<p>In answer to my birthday letter, an answer written on his -very birthday in his own handwriting, he sends me the following -message. Intimate as it is, I give it in full, for in these -few short lines there seems to breathe the whole spirit of my -brother—the unswerving affection, the immediate response to -my affection, and the wish to encourage me to face sorrows -that were hard to bear by reminding me of the rare joys which -I had also tasted. The manner in which he joined his own -sorrows and joys to mine, the sweet compliment of the words -which infer that for him I still had youthfulness, and at the end -the type of humor which brought always a savor into his own -life and into the lives of those whom he closely touched, all were -part of that spirit.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="sigright"> -Sagamore Hill, October 27, 1918. -</p> - -<p class="in0"> -<span class="smcap">Darling Pussie</span>:— -</p> - -<p>It was dear of you to remember my birthday. Darling, after -all, you and I have known long years of happiness, and you are -as young as I am old.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l8">Ever yours,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Methusaleh’s Understudy</span>. -</p></blockquote> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_359">359</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 title="XVIII “THE QUIET QUITTING”" class="vspace"><a id="XVIII"></a>XVIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">“THE QUIET QUITTING”<a id="FNanchor_C" href="#Footnote_C" class="fnanchor smaller">C</a></span></h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For those who must journey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Henceforward alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have need of stout convoy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now Great-Heart is gone.<br /></span> -</div> -<div class="attrib">—Rudyard Kipling. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">On</span> November 11, 1918, the armistice with Germany was -signed by General Foch. The war was over! So many -years had passed since that fateful August 1, 1914, that -at first the mind of the world was not attuned to peace. It -now seemed as incomprehensible that we should be at peace as -it had seemed impossible that we should be at war. Just before -the armistice was signed the United States had proved by the -ballots cast on Election day that the request of President Wilson -that a Democratic Congress should be returned was not -in accord with the wishes of the American people.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_C" href="#FNanchor_C" class="fnanchor smaller">C</a> Title of a poem written on the death of Theodore Roosevelt by J. Fries, an -old veteran of the Civil War.</p></div> - -<p>Theodore Roosevelt, in a vivid speech at Carnegie Hall -just before Election day, had defined the issues of the future -in sharp, terse sentences, and had pleaded for preparedness for -peace (for the signs of those days showed that peace was not -far off), as he had pleaded so long ago for preparedness for war. -He was far from well on the night when he made that speech, -which was to prove the last that he would ever make in the hall -in which he had so often aroused his fellow citizens to a sense of -their civic and national duty. I was ill and could not be present, -but Mrs. Roosevelt told me afterward that she had been -much concerned for him, for a trouble which he thought was -sciatica in his leg was giving him intense pain. No one would -have suspected that fact, however, and many in the audience<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_360">360</a></span> -told me afterward that that speech in Carnegie Hall was one -of the most convincing and thrilling appeals to patriotism ever -made by Theodore Roosevelt.</p> - -<p>A few days later, always true to his interest in the colored -people, he made an address under the auspices of the Negro -Circle, and again I was to have been present and was prevented -by my condition of health. The following week when I was -better I telegraphed to Oyster Bay to ask him, if possible, to -lunch with me in New York, and to my distress received an -answer that he was not well enough to come to New York, but -would I come out and spend the night at Oyster Bay instead? -When I arrived at Sagamore Hill, I could not but feel worried -to find him in bed, and in much pain, which, however, he entirely -disregarded, and we had one of the most delightful evenings -that I ever remember spending with him. I had brought, thinking -that it might interest him, Professor William Lyon Phelps’s -book on “Modern Poetry,” and during the time that I left his -room to take dinner with my sister-in-law, he had read so much -and with such avidity that I felt on my return to his bedside -that he had assimilated the whole volume. In spite of pain and -politics, he threw himself into a discussion of modern American -poetry, taking up author after author and giving me rapid criticisms -or appreciations. He took much interest in both Edgar -Lee Masters and Vachel Lindsay, struck with the masterful -story-telling quality of the one and the curious rhythmic metre -of the other, and the strong Americanism of both.</p> - -<p>From poetry we wandered across political fields together, -and he discussed the armistice which had just been signed, and -which he said he could not but regret from the standpoint of -the future. He felt that for all the days to come it would have -been better had Germany’s army had to return to the Fatherland -an insignificant and defeated fraction of its original strength, -and had the Allies entered Berlin as victors. This opinion, -although very strong, was not in any way advanced as a criticism -of the signing of the armistice, which he appeared to feel -had been inevitable. We talked until twelve o’clock that night<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_361">361</a></span> -and I have always felt grateful to my sister-in-law for having -arranged for me to have that delightful communion with my -brother.</p> - -<p>There was no serious apprehension about his health when I -left the next morning, and the news that he had been taken to -the hospital the following week came as a shock and surprise -to me. All through those late November and December days, -when my brother was an invalid in Roosevelt Hospital (except -for a brief thirty-six hours when he was threatened with pneumonia, -which trouble he threw off with his usual wonderful -vitality), we were not seriously apprehensive of any fatal outcome -to his ill health, and, indeed, at times during that detention -in the hospital, he gave one the impression of a man fully -able to recuperate as he had always done before. Many were -the happy hours of quiet interchange of thought and affection -passed by me with my brother in the hospital. My sister-in-law -had given the order to the nurses that I should always be -admitted, and I came and went in the sick-room daily. Sometimes -he was well enough to see visitors, and lines of people of -the most varied kinds were always waiting in the corridors in -the hope of a few words with him. I remember a long talk on -American literature to which I listened between Hamlin Garland -and himself, and in the middle of December he asked me to -telegraph our dear friend Senator Lodge to ask him to come on -and discuss certain political matters with him. The senator -spent two days with me, and of those two days two whole mornings -in the Colonel’s room in the hospital. I was with them -during the first morning when they discussed the tentative -League of Nations, parts of which in problematical form were -already known to the public. The different reservations, insisted -upon later by Senator Lodge, when the League in its -eventual form was presented to the Senate of the United States, -were tentatively formulated at the bedside of the Colonel. I -do not mean that definite clauses in the League were definitely -discussed, but many contingencies of the document, contingencies -which later took the form of definite clauses, <em>were</em> discussed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_362">362</a></span> -and the future attitude toward such contingencies more or less -mapped out. He took great pleasure in these talks with -Senator Lodge, for, although not always in accord in some of -their political views, I know no one in whose stimulating -mentality my brother took keener pleasure; and on the fundamental -issues of “America First,” and of deep-rooted -patriotism and practical service to their country, they stood -invariably as one man.</p> - -<p>One day—in fact, it was the last day that I sat with him in -the hospital—he seemed particularly bright and on the near -road to recovery. His left arm was still in bandages, but with -his strong right hand he gesticulated as of old, and sitting in -his armchair, his eyes clear and shining, his face ruddy and animated, -he seemed to me to have lost nothing of the vigorous -and inspiring personality of earlier days. As usual, he shared -my every interest, reiterated his desire to have my little grandson, -Douglas, and his sisters pay a visit in the holidays to Sagamore -Hill, told me delightedly how he would show Douglas -every trophy in the large north room where his trophies were -kept, and said that he wanted to know all the children intimately. -From family affairs we branched off to public affairs, and speaking -of the possibilities of the future, he said he knew much depended -upon his health, but that he recognized that even amongst -those who had been opposed to him in the past, there was now -a strong desire for him to be the Republican candidate for President -in 1920. Alluding to his birthday so lately passed, he said: -“Well, anyway, no matter what comes, I have kept the promise -that I made to myself when I was twenty-one.” “What -promise, Theodore?” I asked him. “You made many promises -to yourself, and I am sure have kept them all.” “I promised -myself,” he said, bringing his right fist down with emphasis -on the arm of the chair, “that I would work <em>up to the hilt</em> until -I was sixty, and I have done it. I have kept my promise, -and now, even if I should be an invalid—I should not like to be -an invalid—but even if I should be an invalid, or if I should -die [this with a snap of his finger and thumb], what difference<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_363">363</a></span> -would it make?” “Theodore,” I said, “do you remember -what you said to me nearly a year ago when you thought you -were dying in this same hospital? You said that you were -glad it was not one of your boys that was dying at that time in -this place, for <em>they</em> could die for their country. Do you feel the -same way now?” “Yes,” he said, “just the same way. I -wish that I might, like Quentin, have died for my country.” -“I know you wish it,” I answered, “but I want to tell you something. -Every one of us—even those not as courageous, not -as patriotic, as you are—would, I feel sure, if our country were -in peril, be willing to bare our breasts to any bullet, could we, -by so doing, protect and save our country; but the trouble -is that the very people who, in peril, will give themselves, with -absolute disregard of the consequences, to their country’s service, -fail, utterly, in times of peace, to sacrifice anything whatsoever -for their country’s good. The difference, Theodore, between -you and the majority of us is that you not only are willing -and anxious to <em>die</em> for your country, but that you <em>live</em> for your -country every day of your life.”</p> - -<p>Within a few days, in fact on Christmas day, he was moved -to Oyster Bay, and at first seemed benefited by the change. On -Friday, January 3, I had arranged to go out and spend the day -with him, but a message came that he was not quite as comfortable -and would I wait until Monday, when he hoped to feel much -better and enjoy my visit.</p> - -<p>On the Sunday he seemed better again, my sister-in-law -told me later, and enjoyed the whole day. He loved, passionately, -his home at Sagamore Hill, and the view from it over the -Sound on which he had rowed so often from boyhood up. He -loved the beauty of the shrubs and trees and undulating wooded -hills, and he loved best of all the sense of home there, and the -happy family life which, even with a vacant chair, he knew would -continue. He expressed his content that evening to Mrs. -Roosevelt, in whose companionship he took the same delight -as when in their youth he had brought her to be the adored mistress -of that home.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_364">364</a></span> -Later in the evening he did not seem quite so well and she -sent for the doctor, who, after testing him in various ways, pronounced -his condition as very satisfactory. Relieved in mind, -Mrs. Roosevelt left him in charge of his faithful attendant, James -Amos, and shortly after she went out he turned to James and -said, “Put out the light.” Once again his devoted wife came -to his bedside, thinking she heard him stir, but found him sleeping -peacefully. At four o’clock James detected a change in the -breathing, and realizing that all was not well, called the trained -nurse. In a few moments, as Senator Lodge said later in his -great oration on his friend before the joint houses of Congress -in Washington, “Valiant-for-Truth passed over, and all the -trumpets sounded for him on the other side.”</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>That Sunday evening, just before Theodore Roosevelt told -his faithful servant to “Put out the light,” there was a meeting -held in New York under the auspices of the American Defense -Society, at which he had hoped to be present. Not able to be -there in person, he sent them a letter, and at the moment that -he, at his beloved home on the hill, closed his eyes for the last -time, his faithful followers listened to his ringing exhortation -that there should be “no sagging back in Americanism.” -The youth, twenty-three years of age, as an assemblyman at -Albany had come to his native city to make his maiden address -on that theme so near his heart, and the man, whose -life-work, replete with patriotism, was drawing to a close, sent -the same fervent message in his last hours to his fellow countrymen. -All his life long he had been for those fellow countrymen -“the patriotic sentinel; pacing the parapet of the Republic, -alert to danger and every menace; in love with duty and service, -and always unafraid.”—From Senator Warren G. Harding’s -address on “Theodore Roosevelt” before the Senate and -House of Ohio, late in January, 1919.</p> - -<div class="tb">* <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span></div> - -<p>At six o’clock on that very Monday morning when I was -hoping to go to him and enjoy his dear companionship, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_365">365</a></span> -telephone-bell in my room rang and my sister-in-law’s voice, -gentle and self-controlled, though vibrant with grief, told me -that he was gone, and that she wanted me to come at once to -Sagamore. It was not long before my eldest son and I were -climbing the familiar hill. As we neared the house, I could -not bring myself to believe that the great personality who had -always welcomed me there had passed away.</p> - -<p>That afternoon Mrs. Roosevelt and I walked far and fast -along the shore and through the woodlands he had loved, and -on our return in the waning winter twilight we suddenly became -conscious that airplanes were flying low around the house. -In a tone of deep emotion Mrs. Roosevelt said: “They must be -planes from the camp where Quentin trained. They have been -sent as a guard of honor for his father.”</p> - -<p>That night as I stood alone in the room where my brother -lay, these lines came to me—I called them “Sagamore,” that -old Indian word for which my brother cared so much. It -means chief or chieftain, and Sagamore Hill, the chieftain’s -hill.</p> - -<p class="p1 center larger">SAGAMORE</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At Sagamore the Chief lies low—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the hill in circled row<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whirring airplanes dip and fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A guard of honor from the sky;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eagles to guard the Eagle.—Woe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is on the world. The people go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With listless footstep, blind and slow;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For one is dead—who shall not die—<br /></span> -<span class="i14">At Sagamore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! Land he loved, at last you know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The son who served you well below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The prophet voice, the visioned eye.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hold him in ardent memory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one is gone—who shall not go—<br /></span> -<span class="i14">From Sagamore!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak p1"><a id="Transcribers_Notes"></a>Transcriber’s Note</h2> - -<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a predominant -preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> - -<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced -quotation marks retained. Apparent mis-spellings in letters written -by young children have not been changed; some are noted below.</p> - -<p>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_11">11</a>: The first “a” in “Yes, S<em>a</em>rah” was printed in italics.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_39">39</a>: “your own expresion” was printed with one “s”; “they trie” -was printed that way.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_67">67</a>: “did not suceede” was printed that way.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_74">74</a>: “The fisrt” was printed that way.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_100">100</a>: The block of text labelled “[Facsimile: ]” contains the text -of a facsimile reproduced in the original book. It looks similar -to a long footnote. 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