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.