GREAT RECEPTION TO ADMIRAL DEWEY--GOVERNOR ROOSEVELT'S INCREASED
POPULARITY--LAST ANNUAL MESSAGE AS GOVERNOR--VISIT TO CHICAGO--REMARKABLE
SPEECH ON THE STRENUOUS LIFE
Although the war with Spain was over, the people of the United States
had not forgotten the wonderful work accomplished by Admiral Dewey and
his men at Manila, and when the dauntless naval fighter returned to this
country, people everywhere arose to do him honor.
"He well deserves it," said Governor Roosevelt. And he appointed
September 29 and 30, 1899, as public holidays, to be observed throughout
the entire State as days of general thanksgiving. These days were
commonly called "Dewey Days."
The reception to the Admiral and to the other naval heroes was to take
place in New York and vicinity, and for many days the citizens were busy
decorating their homes and places of business with flags and bunting
and pictures, and immense signs of "Welcome," some in letters several
feet long. At the junction of Broadway, Fifth Avenue, and Twenty-Third
Street, an immense triumphal arch was erected, and reviewing stands
stretched along the line of parade for many miles.
On the day before the grand reception, Governor Roosevelt, with some
members of his staff, called upon Admiral Dewey on board of the
_Olympia_, and offered the State's greeting. A pleasant time was had by
all, and the governor assured the sea hero that the people of New York
and vicinity were more than anxious to do him honor.
It had been arranged that a naval parade should be held on the first day
of the reception, and a land parade on the day following. The course of
the naval parade was up the Hudson River past Grant's Tomb, and the
grand procession on the water included the _Olympia_, the Admiral's
flag-ship, and the _New York_, _Indiana_, _Massachusetts_, _Texas_,
_Brooklyn_, and a large number of other war-ships of lesser importance,
besides an immense number of private steam-yachts and other craft.
The day dawned clear and bright, and the banks of the Hudson were lined
from end to end with people. When the procession of war-ships swept up
the stream, loud was the applause, while flags waved everywhere, and
whistles blew constantly. When passing Grant's Tomb every war-ship fired
a salute, and the mass of sound echoing across the water was positively
deafening.
As the _Olympia_ swept up the river, fired her salute, and then came to
anchor a short distance below the last resting-place of General Grant,
Admiral Dewey stood on the bridge of his flag-ship, a small, trim
figure, with a smile and a wave of the hand for everybody. The surging
people could see him but indistinctly, yet there was much hand clapping,
and throats grew sore with cheering.
But there was another figure in that naval parade, the person of one
also dear to the hearts of the people. It was the figure of Theodore
Roosevelt, dressed, not as a Rough Rider, but as a civilian, standing at
the rail of a steamer used by the New York State officials. When the
people saw and recognized that figure, the cheering was as wild as
ever.
"It is Roosevelt!" ran from mouth to mouth. "The hero of San Juan Hill!"
"Hurrah for the Rough Riders and their gallant leader!" came from
others. And the cheering was renewed.
In the evening there was a grand display of fireworks and illuminated
floats. The immense span of the Brooklyn Bridge was a mass of lights,
and contained the words "Welcome, Dewey" in lettering which covered
several hundred feet. All of the war-ships had their search-lights in
operation, and it can truthfully be said that for once the metropolis
was as light as day.
But all of this was as nothing compared with the land parade which
followed. Never before had the streets of New York been so jammed with
people. At many points it was impossible to move, yet the crowds were
good-natured and patriotic to the core. The parade started at Grant's
Tomb and ended at Washington Square, and was between five and six hours
in passing. Admiral Dewey rode in a carriage with Mayor Van Wyck, and
received another ovation. At the Triumphal Arch the Admiral reviewed
the parade, and here he was accorded additional honors.
In this parade Governor Roosevelt rode on horseback, in civilian dress.
As he came down the street, the immense crowds recognized him from afar,
and the hand clapping and cheering was tremendous, and lasted long after
he was out of sight.
"It's our own Teddy Roosevelt!" cried the more enthusiastic.
"Hurrah for the governor! Hurrah for the colonel of the Rough Riders!"
"Hurrah for the coming President!" said another. And he spoke better
than he knew.
This demonstration came straight from the people's heart, and it could
not help but affect Theodore Roosevelt. Sitting astride of his
dark-colored horse like a veteran, he bowed right and left. Next to
Dewey, he was easily the greatest figure in the parade.
On January 3, 1900, Governor Roosevelt sent his last annual message to
the State legislature. It was an able document, and as it was now
recognized everywhere that he was a truly national figure, it was given
careful attention. It treated of the corruption in canal management, of
the franchise tax, of taxation in general, and a large portion was
devoted to the trusts. At that time the trusts were receiving great
attention everywhere, and it was felt that what the governor had to say
about them, that they were largely over-capitalized, that they
misrepresented the condition of their affairs, that they promoted unfair
competition, and that they wielded increased power over the wage-earner,
was strictly true.
In Chicago there is a wealthy organization known as the Hamilton Club,
and the members were very anxious to have Governor Roosevelt as their
guest on Appomattox Day, April 10, 1899. A delegation went to New York
to invite the governor, and he accepted the invitation with pleasure.
"The middle West is very dear to me," said he. "It will be a pleasure to
meet my many friends there."
Of course he was expected to speak, and said the subject of his address
would be "The Strenuous Life,"--certainly a subject close to his own
heart, considering the life he himself had led.
When Mr. Roosevelt reached the metropolis of the Great Lakes, he found
a large crowd waiting at the railroad station to receive him. The
reception committee was on hand, with the necessary coaches, and people
were crowded everywhere, anxious to catch a sight of the man who had
made himself famous by the advance up San Juan Hill.
But for the moment Governor Roosevelt did not see the reception
committee, nor did he see the great mass of people. In a far corner of
the platform he caught sight of six men, dressed in the faded and
tattered uniform of the Rough Riders. They were not men of wealth or
position, but they were men of his old command, and he had not forgotten
them.
"Glad to see you, boys, glad to see you!" he shouted, as he elbowed his
way toward them. "Come up here and shake hands."
"Glad to see you, Colonel," was the ready answer, and the faces of the
men broke into broad smiles. They shook hands readily, and willingly
answered all of the questions the governor put to them. He asked how
each of them was doing, calling them by their names, and concluded by
requesting them to come up to the Auditorium later, "for an all-round
chat."
"It was a great meeting," said one who was there. "Before the train came
in, those old Rough Riders were nervous and showed it. They knew that
Roosevelt had become a great man, and they were just a little afraid he
would pass them by. When the meeting was over, they went off as happy as
a lot of children, and one of them said, 'Say, fellows, Teddy's just all
right yet, ain't he?' And another answered: 'Told you he would be. He's
a white man through and through, none whiter anywhere.'"
The banquet was held in the Auditorium Theatre building, and was said to
be the largest ever given in Chicago. Many distinguished guests were
present, both from the North and the South, and the place was a mass of
flowers and brilliantly illuminated, while a fine orchestra discoursed
music during the meal. When Theodore Roosevelt arose to speak, there was
cheering that lasted fully a quarter of an hour.
The speech made upon this occasion is one not likely to be forgotten.
Previous to that time the word "strenuous" had been heard but seldom,
but ever since it has stood for something definite, and is much in use.
In part Mr. Roosevelt spoke as follows:--
"I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of
the strenuous life; the life of toil and effort; of labor and strife; to
preach that highest form of success which comes, not to the man who
desires mere easy peace, but to the man who does not shirk from danger,
from hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the
splendid ultimate triumph."
Another paragraph is equally interesting and elevating:--
"We do not admire the man of timid peace. We admire the man who embodies
victorious effort; the man who never wrongs his neighbor, who is prompt
to help a friend; but who has those virile qualities necessary to win in
the stern strife of actual life. It is hard to fail; but it is worse
never to have tried to succeed."
And to this he adds:--
"As it is with the individual so it is with the nation. It is a base
untruth to say that happy is the nation that has no history. Thrice
happy is the nation that has a glorious history. Far better is it to
dare mighty things to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by
failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy
much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows
neither victory nor defeat."[1]
[Footnote 1: For other extracts from this speech, see Appendix A, p.
297.]
[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt]