[10] The Cambridge Union is the home of the well-known debating

society of the undergraduates of Cambridge University. To the

Vice-President, a member of Emmanuel College, the college of John

Harvard who founded Harvard University, was appropriately assigned

the duty of proposing the resolution admitting Mr. Roosevelt to

honorary membership in the Union Society. In supporting the

resolution the Vice-President referred to the peculiar relation

which unites the English Cambridge and the American Cambridge in a

common bond and touched upon Mr. Roosevelt's African exploits by

jocosely expressing anxiety for the safety of "the crest of my own

college, the Emmanuel Lion, which I see before me well within

range." There had just appeared in _Punch_, at the time of Mr.

Roosevelt's arrival in England, a full-page cartoon showing the

lions of the Nelson Monument in Trafalgar Square guarded by

policemen and protected by a placard announcing that "these lions

are not to be shot." The Secretary, in seconding the resolution,

humorously alluded to the doctor's gown, hood, and cap, in which

Mr. Roosevelt received his degree, as a possible example of what

America sometimes regards as the gilded trappings of a feudal and

reactionary Europe.--L.F.A.

Now I thank you very much for having made me an honorary member.

Harvard men feel peculiarly at home when they come to Cambridge. We

feel we are in the domain of our spiritual forefathers, and I doubt if

you yourselves can appreciate what it is to walk about the courts, to

see your buildings, and your pictures and statues of the innumerable

men whose names we know so well, and who have been brought closer to

us by what we see here. That would apply not alone to men of the past.

The Bishop of Ely to you is the Bishop of to-day; but I felt like

asking him when I met him this morning, "Where is Hereward the Wake?"

It gives an American university man a peculiar feeling to come here

and see so much that tells of the ancient history of the University.

The tie between Harvard and Cambridge has always been kept up. I

remember when you sent over Mr. Lehmann to teach us how to row. He

found us rather refractory pupils, I am afraid. In the course of the

struggle, the captain of the Harvard crew was eliminated. He

afterwards came down to Cuba and was one of the very best captains in

my regiment. At that time, however, he was still too close to his

college days--he was separated from them only by about two weeks when

he joined me--to appreciate what I endeavored to instil into him, that

while winning a boat-race was all very well, to take part in a

victorious fight, in a real battle, was a good deal better. Sport is a

fine thing as a pastime, and indeed it is more than a mere pastime;

but it is a very poor business if it is permitted to become the one

serious occupation of life.

One of the things I wish we could learn from you is how to make the

game of football a rather less homicidal pastime. (Laughter.) I do not

wish to speak as a mere sentimentalist; but I do not think that

killing should be a normal accompaniment of the game, and while we

develop our football from Rugby, I wish we could go back and undevelop

it, and get it nearer your game. I am not qualified to speak as an

expert on the subject, but I wish we could make it more open and

eliminate some features that certainly tend to add to the danger of

the game as it is played in America now. On the Pacific slope we have

been going back to your type of Rugby football. I would not have

football abolished for anything, but I want to have it changed, just

because I want to draw the teeth of the men who always clamor for the

abolition of any manly game. I wish to deprive those whom I put in the

mollycoddle class, of any argument against good sport. I thoroughly

believe in sport, but I think it is a great mistake if it is made

anything like a profession, or carried on in a way that gives just

cause for fault-finding and complaint among people whose objection is

not really to the defects, but to the sport itself.

Now I am going to disregard your poet and preach to you for just one

moment, but I will make it as little obnoxious as possible.

(Laughter.) The Secretary spoke of me as if I were an athlete. I am

not, and never have been one, although I have always been very fond of

outdoor amusement and exercise. There was, however, in my class at

Harvard, one real athlete who is now in public life. I made him

Secretary of State, or what you call Minister of Foreign Affairs, and

he is now Ambassador in Paris. If I catch your terminology straight,

he would correspond to your triple blue. He was captain of the

football eleven, played on the base-ball team, and rowed in the crew,

and in addition to that he was champion heavy-weight boxer and

wrestler, and won the 220-yard dash. His son was captain of the

Harvard University crew that came over here and was beaten by Oxford

two years ago. [Voices: "Cambridge."] Well, I never took a great

interest in defeats. (Loud laughter and applause.) Now, as I said

before, I never was an athlete, although I have always led an outdoor

life, and have accomplished something in it, simply because my theory

is that almost any man can do a great deal, if he will, by getting the

utmost possible service out of the qualities that he actually

possesses.

There are two kinds of success. One is the very rare kind that comes

to the man who has the power to do what no one else has the power to

do. That is genius. I am not discussing what form that genius takes;

whether it is the genius of a man who can write a poem that no one

else can write, _The Ode on a Grecian Urn_, for example, or _Helen,

thy beauty is to me_; or of a man who can do 100 yards in nine and

three-fifths seconds. Such a man does what no one else can do. Only a

very limited amount of the success of life comes to persons possessing

genius. The average man who is successful,--the average statesman, the

average public servant, the average soldier, who wins what we call

great success--is not a genius. He is a man who has merely the

ordinary qualities that he shares with his fellows, but who has

developed those ordinary qualities to a more than ordinary degree.

Take such a thing as hunting or any form of vigorous bodily exercise.

Most men can ride hard if they choose. Almost any man can kill a lion

if he will exercise a little resolution in training the qualities that

will enable him to do it. [Taking a tumbler from the table, Mr.

Roosevelt held it up.] Now it is a pretty easy thing to aim straight

at an object about that size. Almost any one, if he practises with the

rifle at all, can learn to hit that tumbler; and he can hit the lion

all right if he learns to shoot as straight at its brain or heart as

at the tumbler. He does not have to possess any extraordinary

capacity, not a bit,--all he has to do is to develop certain rather

ordinary qualities, but develop them to such a degree that he will

not get flustered, so that he will press the trigger steadily instead

of jerking it--and then he will shoot at the lion as well as he will

at that tumbler. It is a perfectly simple quality to develop. You

don't need any remarkable skill; all you need is to possess ordinary

qualities, but to develop them to a more than ordinary degree.

It is just the same with the soldier. What is needed is that the man

as soldier should develop certain qualities that have been known for

thousands of years, but develop them to such a point that in an

emergency he does, as a matter of course, what a great multitude of

men can do but what a very large proportion of them don't do. And in

making the appeal to the soldier, if you want to get out of him the

stuff that is in him, you will have to use phrases which the

intellectual gentlemen who do not fight will say are platitudes.

(Laughter and applause.)

It is just so in public life. It is not genius, it is not

extraordinary subtlety, or acuteness of intellect, that is important.

The things that are important are the rather commonplace, the rather

humdrum, virtues that in their sum are designated as character. If you

have in public life men of good ability, not geniuses, but men of

good abilities, with character,--and, gentlemen, you must include as

one of the most important elements of character commonsense--if you

possess such men, the Government will go on very well.

I have spoken only of the great successes; but what I have said

applies just as much to the success that is within the reach of almost

every one of us. I think that any man who has had what is regarded in

the world as a great success must realize that the element of chance

has played a great part in it. Of course a man has to take advantage

of his opportunities; but the opportunities have to come. If there is

not the war, you don't get the great general; if there is not a great

occasion you don't get the great statesman; if Lincoln had lived in

times of peace no one would have known his name now. The great crisis

must come, or no man has the chance to develop great qualities.

There are exceptional cases, of course, where there is a man who can

do just one thing, such as a man who can play a dozen games of chess

or juggle with four rows of figures at once--and as a rule he can do

nothing else. A man of this type can do nothing unless in the one

crisis for which his powers fit him. But normally the man who makes

the great success when the emergency arises is the man who would have

made a fair success in any event. I believe that the man who is really

happy in a great position--in what we call a career--is the man who

would also be happy and regard his life as successful if he had never

been thrown into that position. If a man lives a decent life and does

his work fairly and squarely so that those dependent on him and

attached to him are better for his having lived, then he is a success,

and he deserves to feel that he has done his duty and he deserves to

be treated by those who have had greater success as nevertheless

having shown the fundamental qualities that entitle him to respect. We

have in the United States an organization composed of the men who

forty-five years ago fought to a finish the great Civil War. One thing

that has always appealed to me in that organization is that all of the

men admitted are on a perfect equality provided the records show that

their duty was well done. Whether a man served as a lieutenant-general

or an eighteen-year-old recruit, so long as he was able to serve for

six months and did his duty in his appointed place, then he is called

Comrade and stands on an exact equality with the other men. The same

principle should shape our associations in ordinary civil life.

I am not speaking cant to you. I remember once sitting at a table with

six or eight other public officials, and each was explaining* how he

regarded being in public life, how only the sternest sense of duty

prevented him from resigning his office, and how the strain of working

for a thankless constituency was telling upon him, and nothing but the

fact that he felt he ought to sacrifice his comfort to the welfare of

his country kept him in the arduous life of statesmanship. It went

round the table until it came to my turn. This was during my first

term of office as President of the United States. I said: "Now,

gentlemen, I do not wish there to be any misunderstanding. I like my

job, and I want to keep it for four years longer." (Loud laughter and

applause.) I don't think any President ever enjoyed himself more than

I did. Moreover, I don't think any ex-President ever enjoyed himself

more. I have enjoyed my life and my work because I thoroughly believe

that success--the real success--does not depend upon the position you

hold, but upon how you carry yourself in that position. There is no

man here to-day who has not the chance so to shape his life after he

leaves this university that he shall have the right to feel, when his

life ends, that he has made a real success of it; and his making a

real success of it does not in the least depend upon the prominence of

the position he holds. Gentlemen, I thank you, and I am glad I have

violated the poet's hope and have preached to you.

*Transcriber's Note: Original "explaning"

* * * * *

BRITISH RULE IN AFRICA

Address Delivered at the Guildhall, London, May 31, 1910[11]

[11] The occasion of this address was the ceremony in the

Guildhall in which Mr. Roosevelt was presented by the Corporation

of the City of London (the oldest corporation in the world), with

the Freedom of the City. Sir Joseph Dimsdale, on behalf of the

Lord Mayor and the Corporation, made the address of

presentation.--L.F.A.

It is a peculiar pleasure to me to be here. And yet I cannot but

appreciate, as we all do, the sadness of the fact that I come here

just after the death of the Sovereign whom you so mourn, and whose

death caused such an outburst of sympathy for you throughout the

civilized world. One of the things I shall never forget is the

attitude of that great mass of people, assembled on the day of the

funeral, who in silence, in perfect order, and with uncovered heads,

saw the body of the dead King pass to its last resting-place. I had

the high honor of being deputed to come to the funeral as the

representative of America, and by my presence to express the deep and

universal feeling of sympathy which moves the entire American people

for the British people in their hour of sadness and trial.

I need hardly say how profoundly I feel the high honor that you confer

upon me; an honor great in itself, and great because of the ancient

historic associations connected with it, with the ceremonies incident

to conferring it, and with the place in which it is conferred. I am

very deeply appreciative of all that this ceremony means, all that

this gift implies, and all the kind words which Sir Joseph Dimsdale

has used in conferring it. I thank you heartily for myself. I thank

you still more because I know that what you have done is to be taken

primarily as a sign of the respect and friendly good-will which more

and more, as time goes by, tends to knit together the English-speaking

peoples.

I shall not try to make you any extended address of mere thanks, still

less of mere eulogy. I prefer to speak, and I know you would prefer to

have me speak, on matters of real concern to you, as to which I happen

at this moment to possess some first-hand knowledge; for recently I

traversed certain portions of the British Empire under conditions

which made me intimately cognizant of their circumstances and needs. I

have just spent nearly a year in Africa. While there I saw four

British protectorates. I grew heartily to respect the men whom I there

met, settlers and military and civil officials; and it seems to me

that the best service I can render them and you is very briefly to

tell you how I was impressed by some of the things that I saw. Your

men in Africa are doing a great work for your Empire, and they are

also doing a great work for civilization. This fact and my sympathy

for and belief in them are my reasons for speaking. The people at

home, whether in Europe or in America, who live softly, often fail

fully to realize what is being done for them by the men who are

actually engaged in the pioneer work of civilization abroad. Of

course, in any mass of men there are sure to be some who are weak or

unworthy, and even those who are good are sure to make occasional

mistakes--that is as true of pioneers as of other men. Nevertheless,

the great fact in world history during the last century has been the

spread of civilization over the world's waste spaces. The work is

still going on; and the soldiers, the settlers, and the civic

officials who are actually doing it are, as a whole, entitled to the

heartiest respect and the fullest support from their brothers who

remain at home.

At the outset, there is one point upon which I wish to insist with all

possible emphasis. The civilized nations who are conquering for

civilization savage lands should work together in a spirit of hearty

mutual good-will. I listened with special interest to what Sir Joseph

Dimsdale said about the blessing of peace and good-will among nations.

I agree with that in the abstract. Let us show by our actions and our

words in specific cases that we agree with it also in the concrete.

Ill-will between civilized nations is bad enough anywhere, but it is

peculiarly harmful and contemptible when those actuated by it are

engaged in the same task, a task of such far-reaching importance to

the future of humanity, the task of subduing the savagery of wild man

and wild nature, and of bringing abreast of our civilization those

lands where there is an older civilization which has somehow gone

crooked. Mankind as a whole has benefited by the noteworthy success

that has attended the French occupation of Algiers and Tunis, just as

mankind as a whole has benefited by what England has done in India;

and each nation should be glad of the other nation's achievements. In

the same way, it is of interest to all civilized men that a similar

success shall attend alike the Englishman and the German as they work

in East Africa; exactly as it has been a benefit to every one that

America took possession of the Philippines. Those of you who know Lord

Cromer's excellent book in which he compares modern and ancient

imperialism need no words from me to prove that the dominion of modern

civilized nations over the dark places of the earth has been fraught

with widespread good for mankind; and my plea is that the civilized

nations engaged in doing this work shall treat one another with

respect and friendship, and shall hold it as discreditable to permit

envy and jealousy, backbiting and antagonism among themselves. I

visited four different British protectorates or possessions in

Africa--namely, East Africa, Uganda, the Sudan, and Egypt. About the

first three, I have nothing to say to you save what is pleasant, as

well as true. About the last, I wish to say a few words because they

are true, without regard to whether or not they are pleasant.

In the highlands of East Africa you have a land which can be made a

true white man's country. While there I met many settlers on intimate

terms, and I felt for them a peculiar sympathy, because they so

strikingly reminded me of the men of our own western frontier of

America, of the pioneer farmers and ranch-men who built up the States

of the great plains and the Rocky Mountains. It is of high importance

to encourage these settlers in every way, remembering--I say that here

in the City--remembering that the prime need is not for capitalists to

exploit the land, but for settlers who shall make their permanent

homes therein. Capital is a good servant, but a mighty poor master. No

alien race should be permitted to come into competition with the

settlers. Fortunately you have now in the Governor of East Africa, Sir

Percy Girouard, a man admirably fitted to deal wisely and firmly with

the many problems before him. He is on the ground and knows the needs

of the country, and is zealously devoted to its interests. All that is

necessary is to follow his lead, and to give him cordial support and

backing. The principle upon which I think it is wise to act in dealing

with far-away possessions is this--choose your man, change him if you

become discontented with him, but while you keep him back him up.

In Uganda the problem is totally different. Uganda cannot be made a

white man's country, and the prime need is to administer the land in

the interest of the native races, and to help forward their

development. Uganda has been the scene of an extraordinary development

of Christianity. Nowhere else of recent times has missionary effort

met with such success; the inhabitants stand far above most of the

races in the Dark Continent in their capacity for progress towards

civilization. They have made great strides, and the English officials

have shown equal judgment and disinterestedness in the work they have

done; and they have been especially wise in trying to develop the

natives along their own lines, instead of seeking to turn them into

imitation or make-believe Englishmen. In Uganda all that is necessary

is to go forward on the paths you have already marked out.

The Sudan is peculiarly interesting because it affords the best

possible example of the wisdom--and when I say that I speak with

historical accuracy--of disregarding the well-meaning but unwise

sentimentalists who object to the spread of civilization at the

expense of savagery. I remember a quarter of a century ago when you

were engaged in the occupation of the Sudan that many of your people

at home and some of ours in America said that what was demanded in the

Sudan was the application of the principles of independence and

self-government to the Sudanese, coupled with insistence upon complete

religious toleration and the abolition of the slave trade.

Unfortunately, the chief reason why the Mahdists wanted independence

and self-government was that they could put down all religions but

their own and carry on the slave trade. I do not believe that in the

whole world there is to be found any nook of territory which has shown

such astonishing progress from the most hideous misery to well-being

and prosperity as the Sudan has shown during the last twelve years

while it has been under British rule. Up to that time it was

independent, and it governed itself; and independence and

self-government in the hands of the Sudanese proved to be much what

independence and self-government would have been in a wolf pack. Great

crimes were committed there, crimes so dark that their very

hideousness protects them from exposure. During a decade and a half,

while Mahdism controlled the country, there flourished a tyranny which

for cruelty, blood-thirstiness, unintelligence, and wanton

destructiveness surpassed anything which a civilized people can even

imagine. The keystones of the Mahdist party were religious intolerance

and slavery, with murder and the most abominable cruelty as the method

of obtaining each.

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