THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

ADDRESS AT THE MEETING OF THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, AT GRACE REFORMED

CHURCH, WASHINGTON, D. C., MARCH 12, 1905

_Mr. Justice, Dr. Schick, and you, my Fellow-Members of this

Congregation, and our Guests who are with us to-day_:

I am glad, on behalf of this church, to say amen to the appeal that has

been made by Dr. Swift on behalf of the great society to the account of

whose work you have been listening. Mr. Justice, you quoted the advice

of a poet “to be doers rather than dreamers.” In the Book of all books

there is a sentence to the same effect, “Be ye doers of the word and

not hearers only.” Let us show ourselves to-day doers of the word,

upholders in fact of what has been preached to us by Dr. Swift.

He has set forth the needs of the society, and he has set forth the

great field over which it works. I wish to touch only on a small

portion of that field, but, after all, the portion that most concerns

us—the need here at home, here in this country, of furthering in every

way the work of the society, the work of all kindred societies, both

among the native-born and among the thousands who come to these shores

from abroad. And there is a peculiar propriety in such an appeal being

made to this church, for, as I have said here before, this church more

than most others should ever keep before it as part of its duty, as

one of the chief parts of its duty, that of caring in all ways, but

especially in spiritual ways, for the people who come to us from abroad.

The United States Government does endeavor to do its duty by the

immigrants who come to these shores; and I was glad, Dr. Swift, to

listen to what you said as to the work that is being done on Ellis

Island, for it is a just tribute to that work. But unless people have

had some experience with the dangers and difficulties surrounding the

newly arrived immigrant they can hardly realize how great they are.

The immigrant comes here almost unprotected; he does not, as a rule,

know our language; he is wholly unfamiliar with our institutions, our

customs, our habits of life and ways of thought; and there are, I am

sorry to say, great numbers of evil and wicked people who hope to

make their livelihood by preying on him. He is exposed to innumerable

temptations, innumerable petty oppressions, on almost every hand; and

unless some one is on hand to help him he literally has no idea where

to turn. No greater work can be done by a philanthropic or religious

society than to stretch out the helping hand to the man and the woman

who come here to this country to become citizens and the parents of

citizens, and therefore to do their part in making up for weal or for

woe the future of our land. If we do not take care of them, if we do

not try to uplift them, then as sure as fate our own children will pay

the penalty. If we do not see that the immigrant and the children of

the immigrant are raised up, most assuredly the result will be that

our own children and children’s children are pulled down. Either they

will rise or we shall sink. The level of well-being in this country

will be a level for all of us. We can not keep that level down for

a part and not have it sink more or less for the whole. If we raise

it for a part we shall raise it to a certain extent for the whole.

Therefore, it means much, not merely to the immigrants, but to every

good American, that there should be at Ellis Island the colporteurs

of this society, and the representatives of other religious and

philanthropic societies to try to care for the immigrant’s body, and

above all to try to care for the immigrant’s soul.

It is, of course, unnecessary to say that the things of the body must

be cared for; that the first duty of any man, especially of the man who

has others dependent upon him, is to take care of them, and to take

care of himself. Nobody can help others if he begins by being a burden

upon others. Each man must be able to pull his own weight, to carry his

own weight; and, therefore, each man must show the capacity to earn for

himself and his family enough to secure a certain amount of material

well-being. That must be the foundation. But on that foundation he must

build as a superstructure the spiritual life.

One of the best things done by this society, and by kindred religious

and benevolent societies, is supplying in our American life of to-day

the proper ideals. It is a good thing to have had the extraordinary

material prosperity which has followed so largely on the extraordinary

scientific discoveries alluded to by Justice Brewer, if we use this

material prosperity aright. It is not a good thing, it is a bad thing,

if we treat it as the be-all and end-all of our life. If we make it the

only ideal before this Nation, if we permit the people of this Republic

to get before their minds the view that material well-being carried

to an ever higher degree is the one and only thing to be striven

for, we are laying up for ourselves not merely trouble but ruin. I,

too, feel the faith and hope that have been expressed here to-day by

the vice-president and the secretary of the society; but I so feel

because I believe that we shall not permit mere material well-being

to become the only ideal in this Nation, because I believe that more

and more we shall accustom ourselves to looking at the great fortunes

accumulated by certain men as being nothing in themselves, either to

admire, to envy or to deplore, save as they are used well or ill. If

the great fortune is used well, if the man who has accumulated it has

the strength necessary to resist the temptations either to use it

wrongfully, or what is nearly as bad, not to use it aright—for negation

may be almost as harmful as positive wrongdoing—then he is entitled to

the praise due to whoever employs great powers for the common good. If

the man who accumulates that great fortune uses it ill or does not use

it well, then so far from being an object of envy, still less an object

of admiration, he should take his place among those whom we condemn

and pity—for usually, if we have the root of the matter in us, we will

pity those we condemn.

Wonderful changes have come in the last half century. It may well

be as Mr. Justice Brewer has said, that we tremble on the verge of

still greater changes in the future. The railway, the telegraph, the

telephone, steam, electricity, all the marvelous mechanical inventions

of these last five decades, have changed much in the superficial aspect

of the world, and have, therefore, produced certain great changes in

the world itself. But after all, in glorying over and wondering at

this extraordinary development, I think that we sometimes forget that

compared to the deeper things it is indeed only superficial in its

effect. The qualities that count most in man and woman now are the

qualities that counted most two thousand years ago; and as a Nation

we shall achieve success or merit failure accordingly as we do or do

not display those qualities. Among the members of this congregation

is a man who, in his prime, served as the fleet engineer of Farragut

when Farragut went into Mobile Bay. That was forty-one years ago. The

ships and the guns with which Farragut did that mighty feat are now

almost as obsolete as the galleys that fought for the mastery of the

Ægean Sea when Athens waged war on Sparta. They could no more stand

against a modern ship than could the ships that fought against the

Invincible Armada in 1588. But if the need ever comes for this Nation

to call on its sons to face a foreign foe, the call will or will not be

made in vain just exactly according to whether we do or do not still

retain the spirit which drove Farragut and the men under him onward to

victory. The gun changes, the ship changes; but the qualities needed in

the man behind the gun, in the man who handles the ship, are just the

same as they ever were. So it is in our whole material civilization of

to-day. The railroad, the telegraph, all these wonderful inventions,

produce new problems, confer new benefits, and bring about new

dangers. Cities are built up to enormous size, and, of course, with

the upbuilding of the cities comes the growth of the terrible problems

which confront all of us who have to do with city life. Outward

circumstances change. New dangers spring up and old dangers vanish. But

the spirit necessary to meet the new dangers, the spirit necessary to

ensure the triumph that we must and shall win, is the same now that it

has always been. This is the spirit which lies behind this society, and

all kindred societies; and we owe to this society all the help we can

afford to give; for it is itself giving to our people a service beyond

price, a service of love, a service which no money could buy.

ADDRESS BEFORE THE NATIONAL CONGRESS OF MOTHERS, WASHINGTON, D. C.,

MARCH 13, 1905

_Mrs. President_:

In our modern industrial civilization there are many and grave dangers

to counterbalance the splendors and the triumphs. It is not a good

thing to see cities grow at disproportionate speed relatively to the

country; for the small landowners, the men who own their little homes,

and therefore to a very large extent the men who till farms, the men of

the soil, have hitherto made the foundation of lasting national life

in every State; and, if the foundation becomes either too weak or too

narrow, the superstructure, no matter how attractive, is in imminent

danger of falling.

But far more important than the question of the occupation of our

citizens is the question of how their family life is conducted. No

matter what that occupation may be, as long as there is a real home and

as long as those who make up that home do their duty to one another, to

their neighbors and to the state, it is of minor consequence whether

the man’s trade is plied in the country or the city, whether it calls

for the work of the hands or for the work of the head.

But the Nation is in a bad way if there is no real home, if the family

is not of the right kind; if the man is not a good husband and father,

if he is brutal or cowardly or selfish, if the woman has lost her

sense of duty, if she is sunk in vapid self-indulgence or has let her

nature be twisted so that she prefers a sterile pseudo-intellectuality

to that great and beautiful development of character which comes only

to those whose lives know the fulness of duty done, of effort made and

self-sacrifice undergone.

In the last analysis the welfare of the state depends absolutely upon

whether or not the average family, the average man and woman and their

children, represent the kind of citizenship fit for the foundation of a

great nation; and if we fail to appreciate this we fail to appreciate

the root morality upon which all healthy civilization is based.

No piled-up wealth, no splendor of material growth, no brilliance of

artistic development, will permanently avail any people unless its home

life is healthy, unless the average man possesses honesty, courage,

common-sense, and decency, unless he works hard and is willing at need

to fight hard; and unless the average woman is a good wife, a good

mother, able and willing to perform the first and greatest duty of

womanhood, able and willing to bear, and to bring up as they should be

brought up, healthy children, sound in body, mind, and character, and

numerous enough so that the race shall increase and not decrease.

There are certain old truths which will be true as long as this world

endures, and which no amount of progress can alter. One of these is the

truth that the primary duty of the husband is to be the homemaker,

the breadwinner for his wife and children, and that the primary duty

of the woman is to be the helpmeet, the housewife, and mother. The

woman should have ample educational advantages; but save in exceptional

cases the man must be, and she need not be, and generally ought not

to be, trained for a lifelong career as the family breadwinner; and,

therefore, after a certain point the training of the two must normally

be different because the duties of the two are normally different. This

does not mean inequality of function, but it does mean that normally

there must be dissimilarity of function. On the whole, I think the

duty of the woman the more important, the more difficult, and the more

honorable of the two; on the whole I respect the woman who does her

duty even more than I respect the man who does his.

No ordinary work done by a man is either as hard or as responsible as

the work of a woman who is bringing up a family of small children; for

upon her time and strength demands are made not only every hour of the

day but often every hour of the night. She may have to get up night

after night to take care of a sick child, and yet must by day continue

to do all her household duties as well; and if the family means are

scant she must usually enjoy even her rare holidays taking her whole

brood of children with her. The birth pangs make all men the debtors of

all women. Above all, our sympathy and regard are due to the struggling

wives among those whom Abraham Lincoln called the plain people, and

whom he so loved and trusted; for the lives of these women are often

led on the lonely heights of quiet, self-sacrificing heroism.

Just as the happiest and most honorable and most useful task that

can be set any man is to earn enough for the support of his wife and

family, for the bringing up and starting in life of his children, so

the most important, the most honorable and desirable task which can

be set any woman is to be a good and wise mother in a home marked by

self-respect and mutual forbearance, by willingness to perform duty,

and by refusal to sink into self-indulgence or avoid that which entails

effort and self-sacrifice. Of course, there are exceptional men and

exceptional women who can do and ought to do much more than this,

who can lead and ought to lead great careers of outside usefulness

in addition to—not as substitute for—their home work; but I am not

speaking of exceptions; I am speaking of the primary duties, I am

speaking of the average citizens, the average men and women who make up

the Nation.

Inasmuch as I am speaking to an assemblage of mothers I shall have

nothing whatever to say in praise of an easy life. Yours is the work

which is never ended. No mother has an easy time, and most mothers have

very hard times; and yet what true mother would barter her experience

of joy and sorrow in exchange for a life of cold selfishness, which

insists upon perpetual amusement and the avoidance of care, and which

often finds its fit dwelling-place in some flat designed to furnish

with the least possible expenditure of effort the maximum of comfort

and of luxury, but in which there is literally no place for children?

The woman who is a good wife, a good mother, is entitled to our respect

as is no one else; but she is entitled to it only because, and so long

as, she is worthy of it. Effort and self-sacrifice are the law of

worthy life for the man as for the woman; though neither the effort

nor the self-sacrifice may be the same for the one as for the other. I

do not in the least believe in the patient Griselda type of woman, in

the woman who submits to gross and long-continued ill-treatment, any

more than I believe in a man who tamely submits to wrongful aggression.

No wrongdoing is so abhorrent as wrongdoing by a man toward the wife

and the children who should arouse every tender feeling in his nature.

Selfishness toward them, lack of tenderness toward them, lack of

consideration for them, above all, brutality in any form toward them,

should arouse the heartiest scorn and indignation in every upright soul.

I believe in the woman’s keeping her self-respect just as I believe in

the man’s doing so. I believe in her rights just as much as I believe

in the man’s, and indeed a little more; and I regard marriage as a

partnership in which each partner is in honor bound to think of the

rights of the other as well as of his or her own. But I think that the

duties are even more important than the rights; and in the long run I

think that the reward is ampler and greater for duty well done than for

the insistence upon individual rights, necessary though this, too, must

often be. Your duty is hard, your responsibility great; but greatest of

all is your reward. I do not pity you in the least. On the contrary, I

feel respect and admiration for you.

Into the woman’s keeping is committed the destiny of the generations to

come after us. In bringing up your children you mothers must remember

that while it is essential to be loving and tender it is no less

essential to be wise and firm. Foolishness and affection must not be

treated as interchangeable terms; and besides training your sons and

daughters in the softer and milder virtues you must seek to give them

those stern and hardy qualities which in after life they will surely

need. Some children will go wrong in spite of the best training; and

some will go right even when their surroundings are most unfortunate;

nevertheless an immense amount depends upon the family training. If

you mothers through weakness bring up your sons to be selfish and to

think only of themselves, you will be responsible for much sadness

among the women who are to be their wives in the future. If you let

your daughters grow up idle, perhaps under the mistaken impression

that as you yourselves have had to work hard they shall know only

enjoyment, you are preparing them to be useless to others and burdens

to themselves. Teach boys and girls alike that they are not to look

forward to lives spent in avoiding difficulties but to lives spent in

overcoming difficulties. Teach them that work, for themselves and also

for others, is not a curse but a blessing; seek to make them happy, to

make them enjoy life, but seek also to make them face life with the

steadfast resolution to wrest success from labor and adversity, and

to do their whole duty before God and to man. Surely she who can thus

train her sons and her daughters is thrice fortunate among women.

There are many good people who are denied the supreme blessing of

children, and for these we have the respect and sympathy always

due to those who, from no fault of their own, are denied any

of the other great blessings of life. But the man or woman who

deliberately foregoes these blessings, whether from viciousness,

coldness, shallow-heartedness, self-indulgence, or mere failure to

appreciate aright the difference between the all-important and the

unimportant—why, such a creature merits contempt as hearty as any

visited upon the soldier who runs away in battle, or upon the man who

refuses to work for the support of those dependent upon him, and who

though able-bodied is yet content to eat in idleness the bread which

others provide.

The existence of women of this type forms one of the most unpleasant

and unwholesome features of modern life. If any one is so dim of

vision as to fail to see what a thoroughly unlovely creature such a

woman is I wish they would read Judge Robert Grant’s novel “Unleavened

Bread,” ponder seriously the character of Selma, and think of the fate

that would surely overcome any nation which developed its average

and typical woman along such lines. Unfortunately it would be untrue

to say that this type exists only in American novels. That it also

exists in American life is made unpleasantly evident by the statistics

as to the dwindling families in some localities. It is made evident

in equally sinister fashion by the census statistics as to divorce,

which are fairly appalling; for easy divorce is now, as it ever has

been, a bane to any nation, a curse to society, a menace to the home,

an incitement to married unhappiness and to immorality, an evil thing

for men and a still more hideous evil for women. These unpleasant

tendencies in our American life are made evident by articles such as

those which I actually read not long ago in the “Independent,” where

a clergyman was quoted, seemingly with approval, as expressing the

general American attitude when he said that the ambition of any save a

very rich man should be to rear two children only, so as to give his

children an opportunity “to taste a few of the good things of life.”

This man, whose profession and calling should have made him a moral

teacher, writing in what is professedly a religious paper, actually set

before others the ideal, not of training children to do their duty,

not of sending them forth with stout hearts and ready minds to win

triumphs for themselves and their country, not of allowing them the

opportunity and giving them the privilege of making their own place in

the world, but, forsooth, of keeping the number of children so limited

that they might “taste a few good things!” The way to give a child a

fair chance in life is not to bring it up in luxury, but to see that

it has the kind of training that will give it strength of character.

Even apart from the vital question of national life, and regarding

only the individual interest of the children themselves, happiness in

the true sense is a hundredfold more apt to come to any given member

of a healthy family of healthy-minded children, well brought up, well

educated, but taught that they must shift for themselves, must win

their own way, and by their own exertions make their own positions of

usefulness, than it is apt to come to those whose parents themselves

have acted on and have trained their children to act on, the selfish

and sordid theory that the whole end of life is “to taste a few good

things.”

The intelligence of the remark is on a par with its morality, for the

most rudimentary mental process would have shown the speaker that

if the average family in which there are children contained but two

children the Nation as a whole would decrease in population so rapidly

that in two or three generations it would very deservedly be on the

point of extinction, so that the people who had acted on this base and

selfish doctrine would be giving place to others with braver and more

robust ideals. Nor would such a result be in any way regrettable; for a

race that practiced such doctrine—that is, a race that practiced race

suicide—would thereby conclusively show that it was unfit to exist,

and that it had better give place to people who had not forgotten the

primary laws of their being.

To sum up, then, the whole matter is simple enough. If either a race

or an individual prefers the pleasures of mere effortless ease, of

self-indulgence, to the infinitely deeper, the infinitely higher

pleasures that come to those who know the toil and the weariness, but

also the joy, of hard duty well done, why, that race or that individual

must inevitably in the end pay the penalty of leading a life both vapid

and ignoble. No man and no woman really worthy of the name can care for

the life spent solely or chiefly in the avoidance of risk and trouble

and labor. Save in exceptional cases the prizes worth having in life

must be paid for, and the life worth living must be a life of work for

a worthy end, and ordinarily of work more for others than for one’s

self.

The man is but a poor creature whose effort is not rather for the

betterment of his wife and children than for himself; and as for

the mother, her very name stands for loving unselfishness and

self-abnegation, and, in any society fit to exist, is fraught with

associations which render it holy.

The woman’s task is not easy—no task worth doing is easy—but in doing

it, and when she has done it, there shall come to her the highest and

holiest joy known to mankind; and having done it, she shall have the

reward prophesied in Scripture; for her husband and her children, yes,

and all people who realize that her work lies at the foundation of all

national happiness and greatness, shall rise up and call her blessed.

ADDRESS AT THE DINNER OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDLY SONS OF ST. PATRICK,

DELMONICO’S, NEW YORK CITY, MARCH 17, 1905

It is, of course, a matter of peculiar pleasure to me to come to my

own city and to meet so many men with whom I have been associated for

the last quarter of a century—for it was nearly that time ago, Judge,

that you and I first met when we were both in the New York Legislature

together—and to be greeted by you as you have greeted me to-night. I

wish to express at the outset my special sense of obligation—and I

know that the rest of you will not grudge my expressing it—my special

sense of obligation to Colonel Duffy and the officers and men of the

Sixty-ninth, who were my escort to-day. I shall write to Colonel Duffy

later, to give him formal notice, and to ask him to give the regiment

formal notice, of my appreciation, but I wish to express it thus

publicly to-night.

And now, before I begin my speech proper, I wish to read a telegram

which has been handed to me as a sop to certain of my well-known

prejudices. It has been sent up to me by one of the members here

to-night, who when we came into the dining-room was only a father, but

who at this moment is a grandfather. This telegram runs as follows:

“Peter McDonnell, Friendly Sons’ Dinner, Delmonico’s. Patrick just

arrived. Tired after parade. Sends his regards to the President. He is

the first on record since the President attended the Friendly Sons’

dinner. He is a fine singer. No race suicide in this family. Weighs

eight pounds, looks like the whole family. The mother is doing well.

Robert McDonnell.”

And, gentlemen, I want you to join with me in drinking the health of

Patrick, Peter, Robert, and above all, of the best of the whole outfit,

Mrs. McDonnell, the mother.

Now we will pass from the present to the past. The Judge has spoken to

you of the formation of the Society of the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick

in Philadelphia, in colonial days. It was natural that it should have

started in Philadelphia and at the time of which the Judge spoke. For

we must not forget, in dealing with our history as a Nation, that long

before the outbreak of the Revolution there had begun on the soil of

the colonies, which afterward became the United States, that mixture of

races which has been and still is one of the most important features in

our history as a people. At the time, early in the eighteenth century,

when the immigrants from Ireland first began to come in numbers to this

country, the race elements were still imperfectly fused, and for some

time the then new Irish strain was clearly distinguishable from the

others. And there was one peculiarity about these immigrants who came

from Ireland to the colonies in the eighteenth century which has never

been paralleled in the case of any other immigrants whatsoever. In all

other cases since the very first settlements, the pushing westward of

the frontier, the conquest of the Continent has been due primarily

to the men of native birth. But the immigrants from Ireland in the

eighteenth century, and those alone, pushed boldly through the settled

districts and planted themselves as the advance guard of the conquering

civilization on the borders of the Indian-haunted wilderness.

This was true in Northern Maine and New Hampshire, in Western

Pennsylvania, Virginia, and the Carolinas alike. And, inasmuch as

Philadelphia was the largest city which was in touch with that extreme

Western frontier, it was most natural that the Society of the Friendly

Sons of St. Patrick should first be formed in that city. We had, I

wish to say, in New York, frequently during colonial days, dinners

of societies of the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick, but apparently the

society in New York did not take a permanent form; but we frequently

had dinners on March 17 of the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick here in New

York City even in colonial days.

By the time the Revolution had broken out, the men of different race

strains had begun to fuse together, and the Irish among those strains

furnished their full share of leadership in the struggle. Among their

number was Commodore John Barry, one of the two or three officers to

whom our infant Navy owed most. I had the honor in the last session of

Congress to recommend that a monument to Barry should be erected in

Washington. I heartily believe in economy, but I think we can afford to

let up enough to let that monument through.

On land, the men of this strain furnished generals like Montgomery, who

fell so gloriously at Quebec, and like Sullivan, the conqueror of the

Iroquois, who came of a New Hampshire family, which furnished governors

to three New England States. In her old age, the mother, Mrs. Sullivan,

used to say that she had known what it was to work hard in the fields

carrying in her arms the Governor of Massachusetts, with the Governors

of New Hampshire and Vermont tagging on at her skirts.

I have spoken of the generals. Now for the rank and file. The

Continental troops of the hardest fighter among Washington’s generals,

Mad Anthony Wayne, were recruited so largely from this stock that

Lighthorse Harry Lee of Virginia, the father of the great general,

Robert Lee, always referred to them as “The Line of Ireland.” Nor must

we forget that of this same stock there was a boy during the days of

the Revolution who afterward became the chief American general of his

time, and, as President, one of the public men who left his impress

most deeply upon our Nation, Andrew Jackson, the victor of New Orleans.

The Revolution was the first great crisis of our history. The Civil War

was the second. And in this second great crisis the part played by the

men of Irish birth or parentage was no less striking than it had been

in the Revolution. Among the three or four great generals who led the

Northern Army in the war, stood Phil Sheridan. Some of those whom I am

now addressing served in that immortal brigade which on the fatal day

of Fredericksburg left its dead closest to the stonewall which marked

the limit that could not be overpassed even by the highest valor.

And, gentlemen, it was my good fortune when it befell me to serve

as a regimental commander in a very small war—but all the war there

was—to have under me more than one of the sons of those who served in

Meagher’s brigade. Among them was one of my two best captains, both

of whom were killed, Allen Capron, and this man Bucky O’Neill. Bucky

O’Neill was killed at Santiago, showing the same absolute indifference

to life, the same courage, the same gallant readiness to sacrifice

everything on the altar of an ideal, that his father had shown when he

died in Meagher’s brigade in the Civil War.

The people who have come to this country from Ireland have contributed

to the stock of our common citizenship qualities which are essential

to the welfare of every great nation. They are a masterful race of

rugged character, a race the qualities of whose womanhood have become

proverbial, while its men have the elemental, the indispensable virtues

of working hard in time of peace and fighting hard in time of war.

And I want to say here, as I have said and shall say again elsewhere,

as I shall say again and again, that we must never forget that no

amount of material wealth, no amount of intellect, no artistic or

scientific growth can avail anything to the nation which loses the

elemental virtues. If the average man can not work and fight, the race

is in a poor way; and it will not have, because it will not deserve,

the respect of any one.

Let us avoid always, either as individuals or as a Nation, brawling,

speaking discourteously or acting offensively toward others, but let

us make it evident that we wish peace, not because we are weak, but

because we think it right; and that while we do not intend to wrong any

one, we are perfectly competent to hold our own if any one wrongs us.

There has never been a time in this country when it has not been true

of the average American of Irish birth or parentage, that he came up to

this standard, able to work and able to fight at need.

But the men of Irish birth or of Irish descent have been far more than

soldiers—I will not say more than, but much in addition to, soldiers.

In every walk in life in this country men of this blood have stood and

now stand pre-eminent, not only as soldiers but as statesmen, on the

bench, at the bar, and in business. They are doing their full share

toward the artistic and literary development of the country.

And right here let me make a special plea to you, to this society and

kindred societies: We Americans take a just pride in the development

of our great universities, and more and more we are seeking to provide

for creative and original work in these universities. I hope that an

earnest effort will be made to endow chairs in American universities

for the study of Celtic literature and for research in Celtic

antiquities. It is only of recent years that the extraordinary wealth

and beauty of the old Celtic Sagas have been fully appreciated, and we

of America, who have so large a Celtic strain in our blood, can not

afford to be behindhand in the work of adding to modern scholarship by

bringing within its ken the great Celtic literature of the past.

My fellow-countrymen, I have spoken to-night especially of what has

been done for this Nation of ours by men of Irish blood. But, after

all, in speaking to you, or, to any other body of my fellow-citizens,

no matter from what Old World country they themselves or their

forefathers may have come, the great thing is to remember that we are

all of us Americans. Let us keep our pride in the stocks from which

we have sprung, but let us show that pride, not by holding aloof from

one another, least of all by preserving the Old World jealousies and

bitternesses, but by joining in a spirit of generous rivalry to see

which can do most for our great common country.

Americanism is not a matter of creed or birthplace or descent. That man

is the best American who has in him the American spirit, the American

soul. Such a man fears not the strong and harms not the weak. He scorns

what is base or cruel or dishonest. He looks beyond the accidents of

occupation or social condition and hails each of his fellow-citizens

as his brother, asking nothing save that each shall treat the other on

his worth as a man, and that they shall all join together to do what in

them lies for the uplifting of this mighty and vigorous people. In our

veins runs the blood of many an Old World nation. We are kin to each of

these nations and yet identical with none.

Our policy should be one of cordial friendship for them all, and yet

we should keep ever before our eyes the fact that we are ourselves

a separate people with our own ideals and standards, and destined,

whether for better or for worse, to work out a wholly new national

type. The fate of the twentieth century will in no small degree—I ask

you to think of this from the standpoint of the world—the fate of the

twentieth century as it bears on the world will in no small degree

depend upon the type of citizenship developed on this Continent. Surely

such a thought must thrill us with the resolute purpose so to bear

ourselves that the name American shall stand as the symbol of just,

generous, and fearless treatment of all men and all nations. Let us be

true to ourselves, for we can not then be false to any man.

ADDRESS AT THE DINNER OF THE SONS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, HOTEL

ASTOR, NEW YORK CITY, MARCH 17, 1905

_Ladies and Gentlemen_:

I am glad to greet not merely the Sons but the Daughters of the

American Revolution, and it is indeed a pleasure to be with you and say

a few words, partly of greeting to you and partly in reference to what

I feel should be the work, the special work, of a society like this,

the Society of the Sons of the American Revolution. It ought to fulfil

more than one function. In the first place, it should, of course, keep

up our sense of historic continuity with the past. It is a good thing,

pre-eminently a good thing, for this Nation never to lose sight of what

has been done in the past by those who founded and those who preserved

the Republic. It is eminently fit that there should be associations

banded together for the special purpose of keeping fresh in the minds

of all of us the great memories of the men of the past and of what

these men did. But if we treat that merely as a relaxation, merely as a

pleasant mental exercise, I think we come lamentably short of what we

ought to do.

The way to pay effective homage to the men of the mighty past is to

live decently and efficiently in the present. We have a right to expect

that every society like this shall be a nucleus for patriotic endeavor

in the affairs of the day. Now, in studying the past I wish that

societies like this would pay heed not only to what is pleasant for us

to read about, but also to what is unpleasant. I do not think that a

diet of all praise is good for any one, and it is no better for us as a

body politic than for any one of us individually. Admiral Coghlan will

tell you that the first step necessary in bringing the Navy up to its

present standard of marksmanship was having the Navy understand that

its marksmanship was not what it ought to be. I think the facts will

bear me out.

The thing to do is to remember what Emerson says, that in the long

run an unpleasant truth is a very much safer companion than even the

pleasantest falsehood. Our pride in what was done in the past should

not permit us to be led away into blindness by failure to appreciate

whatever was wrong in the past. Read what Washington said about the

average militia regiment of the Revolutionary War, and you will not

find he used complimentary language. It was because our people declined

to accept Washington’s judgment on the militia, and persisted in

trying the experiment of fighting the War of 1812 with militia, that

the first two years of that war resulted not merely disastrously, but

shamefully, and among other things resulted in the burning of the city

of Washington. We did not begin to win on land until we had evolved

through mighty hard knocks a small army under Brown and Scott on the

northern frontier, which, when evolved, proved able to do what no

Continental army at that time could do, that is, meet to advantage

the best troops of Britain. We won at sea because we had a number of

frigates and sloops which had been built more than fifteen years before

and whose officers had been trained in the school of their profession

at sea and in action. We won these victories because we had the fleet;

and if the fleet had been bigger we would not have had to fight the war

at all.

Now, I ask that societies like this teach the truth; teach the truth

that helps, even if it hurts a little in the helping. Take our struggle

in building up our Navy to its present strength. We were hampered in

that struggle by the ignorant and unspeakably foolish belief that

somehow or other America was so big and smart a Nation that we did not

need a Navy, and could improvise one out of hand if the need ever arose.

Admiral Coghlan lived through the period which saw the United States

at the close of the Civil War, with Farragut and his fellows as our

admirals, loom up as one of the great naval Powers of the earth, which

then saw us about the year 1882 reduced to a condition of effective

sea-strength when it would have been flattery to call us a fifth-rate

Power, and which then saw the building up of our Navy until at present,

taking into account the ships built and authorized, and, above all,

taking into account the way those ships are handled, singly and in

squadrons—taking into the account the ships, the armor, the guns, and,

above all, the men in the conning towers, in the engine rooms and

behind the guns—we rank as one of the big naval Powers of the earth.

We rank as such, we occupy our present position and we are a power

potent for peace because we deliberately faced the fact that we did not

have a Navy worth anything in 1882.

I take immense interest in the Navy, because the Navy is the arm upon

which this country must most depend for holding its own and upholding

its honor so far as our international relations are concerned. We

had to educate our people slowly up to the need of a Navy. We began

by building some cruisers. We then built two or three fast vessels

called commerce destroyers. We had quite a time for several years in

persuading excellent people of good intentions, but not entirely clear

minds, that it was rather less immoral to destroy commerce than to take

life in battleships. Then we had to go through the stage of meeting and

by degrees overcoming the arguments of those other excellent people who

said we must have fighting ships, but only for defence; that we must

only have coast defence ships; that is, we must win the fight not by

hitting, but by parrying. If we had carried out that theory, Admiral

Coghlan and his fellow-captains under Dewey would have been cooped up

in coast defence vessels in San Francisco, while the hostile ships

rested unharmed in Manila. That is the theory of coast defence; and

in that case the war would never have had any end. We won because by

that time our people had at last awakened to the fact that in a navy

you want the very best type of ship; and that of all foolish things,

the most foolish is to hit soft. Do not hit at all if you can help it.

Avoid trouble of every kind. Do not hit at all if you can help it,

but never hit soft. When Dewey and the captains under him went into

Manila Bay they went in in ships that had been built, not that year nor

the year before. Some of them had been built as much as fifteen years

before, twelve years, eight years; and the legislators who authorized

the building of those ships, the men who built them, the captains who

first took them out, the captains who trained the men aboard them,

every man who did his part in bringing up the Navy to the standard of

efficiency which it had reached in 1898 is justly entitled to his share

of the credit in the victory won on that first day of May.

When you cheer for Dewey, when you think of Farragut, when you speak of

the founders of the American Navy in the days of the Revolution, do not

confine yourselves to cheers, do not confine yourselves to saying what

a great man Washington was and how he was backed up by generals and

statesmen of that day; but take example from what those men did, take

warning from what their less wise fellows did, and prepare for victory

in the only way in which victory can be prepared for, by preparing for

it in advance.

I spoke to you of the difficulties to be met with in getting the Navy

built up. Among these difficulties is the fact that there are some

very good people who, whenever you say that you want a good Navy, say

that “this is a lamentable illustration of the jingo spirit, and that

there is no reason why this country should ever have a war.” I know

one excellent gentleman in Congress who said he preferred arbitration

to battleships. So do I. But suppose the other man does not. I want to

have the battleships as a provocative for arbitration so far as the

other man is concerned.

We have now got our Navy up to a good point. We have built and are

building forty armored ships. For a year or two, or two or three

years, to come, what we need to do is to provide for the personnel of

those ships, and to secure the very highest standard of efficiency in

handling them, singly and in squadrons; above all, for handling the

great guns. So much for the Navy.

Now a word for the Army. I was very sorry that this year Congress did

not provide the means for having field manœuvres such as those General

Grant and General Bell took part in last year. Those manœuvres are

very useful. It is impossible to take National Guard regiments and put

them into such manœuvres without causing them great discomfort, and it

may be better to keep such manœuvres as were carried on last year for

the Regular Army. But it is a great mistake not to continue them for

the Regular Army. We have a small Regular Army. It is not advisable

or necessary that we should have a large one. It is advisable, it is

necessary, that the Army we have should be efficient as a whole as

well as efficient in its individual parts. I firmly believe that given

an equal chance, the officers and enlisted men of the American Army

offer material quite as good as any to be found in any army of the

world. Because I believe that I think it not merely an iniquity but a

crime not to give the officers and the enlisted men that equal chance.

We have an Army now short of seventy thousand men. Deducting the men

necessary for the manning of the coast defences, it would give us at

the very outside figure a possible Army of fifty thousand men—that is,

an Army about one-fourteenth the size of the forces that have been

contending in the mighty death wrestle around Mukden. Surely we owe

it to this Nation that we should have that Army of fifty thousand men

able to manœuvre as an Army of fifty thousand men and able to render as

good service as such as any army can render. We can never achieve that

ideal unless we are willing as a Nation to spend the money so that the

Army shall have the chance of being handled in time of peace in great

masses by the men who will handle it in masses in time of war. If when

war comes you set thirty thousand men, of whom no more than five or

six hundred have ever served together, under officers who have never

handled, any of them, more than five or six hundred men, you can not

expect anything but disaster; unless perchance you go against a foe

even more foolish than you are.

So I ask you of this society, the Sons of the American Revolution, to

study the war of the Revolution, to study the War of 1812, to study

the war with Mexico, and the Civil War, not only from the standpoint

of the victories, but from the standpoint of the defeats, and to try

to see to it that in our policy at the present time we carry out the

old policies that won the victories, and avoid the old policies that

brought about the defeats.

I speak in the interest of peace when I ask for an efficient Army

and Navy. This is a high-spirited people. This is a people that will

not abandon the Monroe Doctrine, will not stop building the Isthmian

Canal, will not surrender its hold upon the islands of the sea. Very

good; then take such steps as are necessary to make your hold on those

possessions, your backing of this doctrine, effective, and not empty

bluster.

So it is in civic affairs. Study not only what Washington and

Washington’s supporters did, but study what was done by those who

brought the Continental Congress to absolute impotence. Study what was

done by those who nearly undid the good work of Washington. Study what

has been done in the past by the men who have made errors no less than

by the men who have won triumphs, and profit alike by the study of the

triumphs and by the study of the errors.

Talking among ourselves, man to man, each of us will admit to the other

that there are things in our life that he does not like; but when one

of us gets on his feet to address the rest he often seems to feel as

if somehow he ought never to speak save in indiscriminate praise of

all. The same man who will take an unwarrantably pessimistic view of

all our governmental matters in private will feel obliged to speak

in unwarrantable praise of all these matters in public. We ought to

avoid ignorant praise as much as ignorant blame. It is only by making a

correct diagnosis that we can find out how to treat any given disease.

A good physician in making a diagnosis is not either an optimist or

a pessimist. He wants to find out the facts; for to take either too

dark or too rosy a view may be fatal to the patient. Just so in our

body politic. Try to find out what the facts really are, try to find

out what the good qualities, what the defects; what the good side is

in any portion of our Government, what the defect is in any portion of

our Government. State the truth; do not hysterically exaggerate what is

good; do not hysterically exaggerate what is evil. Find out the facts;

and then with your whole heart set to work to preserve and make better

the good and to cut out and do away with the evil.

ADDRESS TO THE GRADUATES OF THE UNITED STATES NAVAL MEDICAL SCHOOL,

WASHINGTON, D. C., MARCH 25, 1905

_Ladies and Gentlemen; and especially the Members of the Graduating

Class_:

I am glad to have the chance of saying a word of greeting to you this

morning. You represent two professions, for you are members of the

great medical body and you are also officers of the Navy of the United

States, and therefore you have a double standard of honor up to which

to live. I think that all of us laymen, men and women, have a peculiar

appreciation of what a doctor means; for I do not suppose there is one

of us who does not feel that the family doctor stands in a position

of close intimacy with each of us, in a position of obligation to him

under which one is happy to rest to an extent hardly possible with

any one else; and those of us, I think most of us, who are fortunate

enough to have a family doctor who is a beloved and intimate friend,

realize that there can be few closer ties of intimacy and affection in

the world. And while, of course, even the greatest and best doctors can

not assume that very intimate relation with more than a certain number

of people (though it is to be said that more than any other man, the

doctor does commonly assume such a relation to many people)—while it

is impossible this relation in its closest form shall obtain between

a doctor and more than a certain number of people, still with every

patient with whom the doctor is thrown at all intimately he has this

peculiar relation to a greater or less extent. The effect that the

doctor has upon the body of the patient is in very many cases no

greater than the effect that he has upon the patient’s mind. Each one

of you here has resting upon him not only a great responsibility for

the care of the body of the officer or enlisted man who will be under

his supervision, but a care—which ought not to be too consciously

shown, but which should be unconsciously felt—for the man’s spirit. The

morale of the entire ship’s company, of the entire body of men with

which you are to be thrown, will be sensibly affected by the way in

which each of you does his duty.

Just as the great doctor, the man who stands high in his profession

in any city, counts as one of the most valuable assets in that city’s

civic work, so in the Navy or the Army the effect of having thoroughly

well-trained men with a high and sensitive standard of professional

honor and professional duty is wellnigh incalculable upon the service

itself. I want you now, as you graduate, to feel that on your shoulders

rests a great weight of responsibility; that your position is one of

high honor, and that it is impossible to hold a position of high honor

and not hold it under penalty of incurring the severest reprobation if

you fail to live up to its requirements.

I am not competent to speak save in the most general terms of your

professional duties. I do want, however, to call your attention to one

or two features connected with them. In the first place: In connection

with the work you do for the service you have certain peculiar

advantages in doing work that will be felt for the whole profession.

For instance, it will fall to your lot to deal with certain types of

tropical diseases. You will have to deal with them as no ordinary

American doctor, no matter how great his experience, will have to deal

with them, and you should fit yourselves by most careful study and

preparation, so that you shall not only be able to grapple with the

cases as they come up, but in grappling with them to make and record

observations upon them that will be of permanent value to your fellows

in civil life. You can there do what no civilian doctor can possibly

do. There probably is not a branch of the profession into which, during

your career, you will not have to go; no type of disease that you will

not have to treat. But there are certain diseases you will have to

treat that the ordinary man who stays at home, of course, does not; and

it is of consequence to the entire medical profession that you should

so fit yourself by study, by preparation, that you shall not only be

able to deal with those cases, but to deal with them in a way that will

be of advantage to your stay-at-home brethren.

There is one other point. Every effort should, of course, be made

to provide you with ample means to do your work. Every effort ought

to be made to persuade the National Legislature to take that view

of the situation; to remember that in case of war it is out of the

question to improvise a great medical service for the Army and the

Navy. The need of the increase would be more keenly felt in the Army

than in the Navy, because it is always the Army that undergoes the

greatest expansion in time of war. But it is felt in both services.

And when, as is perfectly certain to be the case if ever a war comes,

and if we have made no greater preparation than at present, there is

fever in the camps, there is sickness among the volunteer forces, it

will be mere dishonest folly for the public men, and especially for

the public press, to shriek against the people who happen to be in

power at that time. Let them, if ever such occasion arises, solemnly

think over and repent of the fact that they have not made their

representatives provide adequately in advance for the medical system

in its personnel and its material, for the organization, and for the

physical instruments necessary to make that organization effective.

Only adequate preparation in advance will obviate the trouble which

otherwise is certain to come if we have a war. Let critics remember not

to blame the people in power when such a breakdown comes, but to blame

themselves, the people of the United States, because they have not had

the forethought to take the steps in advance which would prevent such

breakdown from occurring.

Means ought to be provided in advance. That is part of our duty. If we

fail in it then it is our responsibility, not yours. But now for your

duty. I want to impress, with all the strength that in me lies, upon

every medical man in either the Army or the Navy, to remember always

that in any time of crisis the chances are that you will have to work

with imperfect implements. And your conduct will then afford a pretty

good test of your worth. If you sit down and do nothing but say you

could have done excellently if only you had had the right implements

to work with, you will show your unfitness for your position. Your

business will be to do the very best you can do, if you have nothing in

the world but a jack-knife to do it with. Keep before your minds all

the time that when the crisis occurs it is almost sure to be the case

that you will have to do no small part of your work with make-shifts;

to do it, as I myself saw at Santiago the Army physicians do their

work, roughly and hastily, when worn out with fatigue and having but

one-fourth or one-fifth of the appliances that they would expect

normally to have. Make up your mind that while you will do all you can

to get the best material together in advance, you will not put forward

the lack of that material as an excuse for not doing the best work

possible with imperfect tools. Make it a matter of pride to do your

utmost, without regard to the inadequacy of your instruments.

I am sure that all of us outsiders here realize the weight of

responsibility resting upon those who now join the great and honorable

body of men who in the Navy and in the Army have by their actions

upheld not only the standard of honor of the medical profession, but

the standard of honor of the officers of the Army and the Navy of the

United States.

I greet you on your entrance into the service. I welcome you as

servants of the Nation, and I wish you every success in the great and

honorable calling which you have chosen as yours.

Presidential addresses and state papers, Volume 3 (of 7) · 第 42 / 48 题