* * * * *

We do not call him to come back from that free plane where now he

moves untrammeled--

Un-beset by littleness, by envy of his power to read our hearts,

And blazon forth the message that he found there,

So that those in highest place among us needs must hear

And heed the will of us--the silent ones--

Who work, and think, and feel,

And are America.

--Gene Stanton Baker.

Theodore Roosevelt had been at home but a few short weeks when he

realized fully that the policies so dear to his heart, and which he

had left in what he considered absolutely safe-keeping, had not been

carried out. Already, in Congress, a large number of the younger

Republicans had combined together as what were then called “The

Insurgents.” In other words, the men who had fully believed in the

policies of Theodore Roosevelt, who felt that no proper progress could

be made toward better government of the United States unless those

policies were followed, had met on all sides with great disappointment;

and although the ex-President had hoped to keep as absolutely “out

of politics” as he had done in the African jungle, these disheartened

and disappointed men, representing largely the younger and more

ardent spirits of his country, turned to him for leadership. These

reminiscences of my brother are not a biography, nor are they a

political analysis of his public life, and I must therefore pass over

many occurrences, the most important of which was his effort in the

autumn of 1910 to defeat the Barnes-Tammany combination in New York

State by running Mr. Henry L. Stimson for governor, which finally

resulted in the position he took in January, 1912.

During the eighteen months previous he had been contributing editor

of _The Outlook_, and my letters from him in 1911 were few and far

between, as we were frequently together. They were, as usual, full of

deep interest in and affection for me and mine, and as at that time I

began to publish verse, first anonymously and then under my own name,

he gives me generous praise in a note dated August 21, 1911: “I saw B.

the other day. He told me about the acceptance of your second poem,

and spoke most strongly about it, and he, just like everyone else who

has talked to me about the poem, dwelt upon its power and purpose.

[The poem in question was “The Call of Brotherhood.”] It is not merely

pretty, pleasant, trivial, the kind of thing a boy or girl of twenty

could have written; it is written about and for those who have toiled

and suffered and worked, and who have known defeat and triumph; and it

is written by one of them.” In his busy life, called upon endlessly

in every direction, he never failed to encourage any effort of mine

worthy of encouragement, nor indeed to discourage any effort of mine

of which he did not approve. “If convenient,” he adds, “I will come in

about five next Friday for an hour’s talk with you and to see the other

verses. I am sending you a zebra skin which I hope you will like.”

On October 5, 1911, he writes, referring to a political situation in

Herkimer County, where my son had run for state assemblyman, and where

certain unsavory methods had been used to defeat him (later, through

legal procedure, he was given his seat): “Teddy has been defrauded by

as outrageous a piece of political scoundrelism as I have ever known.

Of course, this scoundrelism could succeed, only because last year,

the big business men, the great ‘Conservatives,’ and professional

‘Intellectuals’ and the like, joined in securing the victory of Tammany

at the polls, and the consequent enthronement of the Barnes-Sherman

crowd in our party. If only we could have elected Harry Stimson for

governor, there would not have been an effort made to handle Teddy as

he has been handled.” Already his indignation was beginning to wax hot

against certain methods much in vogue in the Republican party at that

time.

He had had no intention of running for the presidential nomination in

1912, and, indeed, in the autumn of 1911 told many of his most faithful

supporters that he was very much averse to doing so; but already a

swelling tide of disapproval of the Taft administration had increased

in volume to such an extent that it swept over a large part of the

country. The Insurgents pleaded for a definite leadership, and to them,

and to many who did not call themselves by that name, there was but

one leader whom they were willing to follow, and that was Theodore

Roosevelt.

The force of this great wave culminated in the letter of the seven

governors in January, 1912, a letter in which those same seven

governors begged him to take, openly, the leadership of Progressive

Republicanism, and to allow his name to be used as a presidential

nominee in the June convention of 1912. Just before that letter was

published, he writes in his usual sweet way in connection with a visit

which he and Mrs. Roosevelt had intended to pay me in New York (they

were at Sagamore Hill). After speaking of an illness which prevented

Mrs. Roosevelt from coming to me, he said, knowing that I had made

certain engagements for them: “Do you wish to have me come alone? Do

exactly what you think best. I will be in for Tuesday night in any

case, and will be at your house as agreed. I don’t know when I have

ever enjoyed anything more than my lunch at Fannie’s [our dear friend

Mrs. James Russell Parsons],--it was a real feast of Lucullus,--only

far better.” This letter is very boyish and content with friends

and family, and most unlike a man absorbed in schemes of sinister

usurpation, schemes of which he was so soon to be accused.

In the library at my own house in New York City, a fateful meeting

took place shortly after this last letter came. I confess to having

had serious doubts as to what his answer should be to that request of

the seven governors. Personally, I felt the sacrifice asked of him was

almost too great. I realized perfectly the great struggle before him

and all that it probably would mean, and it seemed to me that he had

already given all that was required of just such service to his beloved

country. But, just as he felt in 1898 that, having preached war upon

Spain, he must take active part in that war, so in 1912 he came to

feel strongly that, having inaugurated certain policies as President

which had not been carried out by his successor--having preached the

necessity for industrial legislation which had not been backed by those

in public authority--it was his duty to bare his breast to the “slings

and arrows of outrageous fortune,” and accept the position of leader of

Progressive Republicanism in order to try to translate into practical

reality the ideals which he had upheld before his countrymen. His

answer to the seven governors pledged himself to such leadership, and

the great upheaval of 1912 took place.

Never before in his varied career had Theodore Roosevelt felt such a

sense of loneliness, for many of his nearest and dearest friends were

not in sympathy with some of his beliefs in 1912. I shall never forget

the great meeting at Carnegie Hall, when he proclaimed “the faith that

was in him.” He was like an inspired crusader that night when he cast

away the notes from which he had occasionally been reading and made

the magnificent peroration in which he proclaimed the fact that his

doctrine was “Spend and Be Spent,” and that no man worthy the name

of man would not be willing to be an instrument for the success of

his ideals--a broken instrument if need be. He returned after that

thrilling speech to my house, and we sat a long while talking over the

serious step he had taken and the possibilities the future held for

him, and I felt that there was a sense of dedication about him such as

I believe the martyrs of old must have felt.

In spite of the storm that broke around him after this declaration,

in spite of the manifold activities into which he immediately cast

himself, he takes the time to write to me, March 5, 1912, when my

infant grandchild, born the month before, had died of whooping-cough:

“My darling Sister: You have indeed been through the waters of

bitterness. The little baby! I love little babies so, and I think of

my own little granddaughter, and I mourn with you and Douglas. Now, I

think only with a pang of our lovely day last Sunday. [We had spent

that Sunday with him at Oyster Bay.] If I could have come up to Albany

I would have done so. Ever your devoted brother.”

The great convention of 1912 took place, and through the ruling of

the chairman certain delegates pledged to Theodore Roosevelt were

deprived of their seats, a ruling which meant his defeat as Republican

candidate. I was ill at the time and could not be present on that

epoch-making occasion. I only know that its result after the above

ruling was considered by my brother absolutely inevitable, and that

he never regarded that result, as did so many people, as the most

unfortunate circumstance of his life. Writing a year and a half later

for the _Century Magazine_, in October, 1913, he says: “Fundamentally

the reason for the existence of the Progressive Party was found in two

facts: first, the absence of real distinctions between the old parties

which correspond _to_ those parties; and, second, the determined

refusal of the men in control of both parties to use the party

organizations and their control of the Government, for the purpose of

dealing with the problems really vital to our people.... A party which

alternately nominated Mr. Bryan and Mr. Parker for President, and a

party wherein Messrs. Penrose, LaFollette, and Smoot, stand as the

three brothers of leadership, can by no possibility supply the need of

this country for efficient and coherent governmental action as regards

the really vital questions of the day.” In the same article he proceeds

to analyze the reasons for the formation of the Progressive Party, and

continues:

“The problems connected with the trusts, the problems connected with

child labor, and all similar matters can be solved only by affirmative

national action. No party is progressive which does not set the

authority of the National Government as supreme in these matters. No

party is progressive which does not give to the people the right to

determine for themselves, after due opportunity for deliberation, but

without endless difficulty and delay, what the standards of social and

industrial justice shall be; and, furthermore, the right to insist upon

the servants of the people, legislative and judicial alike, paying

heed to the wishes of the people as to what the law of the land shall

be. The Progressive party believes with Thomas Jefferson, with Andrew

Jackson, with Abraham Lincoln, that this is a government of the people,

to be used for the people, so as to better the condition of the average

man and average woman of the nation in the intimate and homely concerns

of their daily lives; and thus to use the government means that it must

be used after the manner of Hamilton and Lincoln to serve the purposes

of Jefferson and Lincoln.

“We are for the people’s rights. Where these rights can best be

obtained by exercise of the powers of the State, there we are for

_States’_ rights. Where they can best be obtained by the exercise of

the powers of the _National_ Government, there we are for _National_

rights. We are not interested in this as an abstract doctrine; we are

interested in it concretely.... We believe in the principle of a living

wage. We hold that it is ruinous for _all_ our people, if _some_ of our

people are forced to subsist on a wage such that body and soul alike

are stunted.”

Referring to the Industrial and Social Justice plank of the platform of

the Progressive party, he continues:

“The propositions are definite and concrete. They represent for the

first time in our political history the specific and reasoned purpose

of a great party to use the resources of the government in sane fashion

for industrial betterment....

“To sum up, then, our position is, after all, simple. We believe that

the government should concern itself chiefly with the matters that are

of most importance to the average man and average woman, and that it

should be its special province to aid in making the conditions of life

easier for these ordinary men and ordinary women, who compose the great

bulk of our people. To this end we believe that the people should have

direct control over their own governmental agencies, and that when this

control has been secured, it should be used with resolution, but with

sanity and self-restraint, in the effort to make conditions fairer and

better for the men and women of the nation.”

I have inserted this quotation from his own writings in 1913, for it

gives clearly the objects and aims of that party, born at Chicago amid

scenes of almost religious enthusiasm in June, 1912, nor did that

enthusiasm wane for one single moment during the following months; on

the contrary, it rose to the heights of dedication.

There were some who lost their sense of proportion, but by far the

greater number of those who followed Theodore Roosevelt in that

extraordinary campaign were imbued with a high sense of a “Great

Cause,” a cause which had never before been translated into the

common sense of possible achievement. The New York State Progressive

Convention met at Syracuse, and at that assemblage I was able to be

present, and whatever doubts might have been in my breast before were

swept away by a deep conviction of the fact that the Progressive Party

was the true interpretation of the highest ideal of democracy.

Just about the time of the Progressive Convention at Syracuse, an

article appeared, written by a citizen of Unadilla, N. Y., C. C. Penny

by name, in which the above citizen gives the reasons which induced him

to vote for “Teddy,” as he affectionately calls the colonel.

“_To the Editor of the Utica Daily Press_:--

“Having had the question put up to me as to what Roosevelt has

ever done politically to better conditions, I would submit the

following: First,--What did Mr. Roosevelt do as President that

he should not have done in the public interest, or that was

dangerous or hurtful to business? Mr. Roosevelt’s intervention

in the coal strike benefited all consumers; Mr. Roosevelt is

responsible for the Pure Food and Drugs Act; the open door to

American commerce with China; the settlement of the Russo-Japan

War; Panama Canal project; conservation of natural resources;

reduction of interest-bearing debt by more than ninety million

dollars; settlement of the Alaska boundary dispute; an act calling

for the extension of forest reserves; national irrigation act;

employers’ liability act; safety appliances and regulation of

railroad employees’ hours of labor.--Was Mr. Roosevelt’s work in

bringing about the settlement of the Russo-Japan War dangerous and

hurtful to business? Was Roosevelt’s Panama Canal project dangerous

and hurtful to business? Was his movement for the conservation of

our natural resources dangerous and hurtful to business? These are

a few of the things which he suggested and carried through with the

help of his followers. Besides, he recommended many other reforms

such as Postal Savings Bank, Parcels Post, and Inheritance Tax and

Income Tax which he had not time to carry through during his last

term.

“All these, it seems to me, are reforms to better the conditions of

the great mass of people. The Progressive platform has been growing

for the last sixteen years all through the Northwest, and West and

South, only waiting for a man to come out, bold enough to take the

lead. Mr. Roosevelt, it seems, has dared to take this step, and

whether we win or lose, it is a step forward to the betterment of

the conditions of all who toil and consume. I have always voted the

Republican ticket, but I consider that true Republican principles

at this time rest with the Progressive Party, and I shall vote for

that party this Fall, and for Teddy, win or lose.”

In October that year my volume of poems called by the title of its

first poem, “The Call of Brotherhood,” was published, and my brother

writes me at once, though in the midst of pressing duties: “I love ‘The

Call of Brotherhood’; somehow it seems to express just what we are now

battling for in the political arena. Well, the feeling, the longing,

the desire, the determination you have made throb in these poems, also

make it impossible for us to sit in fat content and not strive for

better things in _actual life_. When we felt rather inarticulately just

what you have written, we simply couldn’t refrain from the effort [he

refers to the Progressive Party] as a practical means to realize high

ideals. That is what we must do with high ideals,--apply them and try

to live up to them, and to make them work.--Joe and Teddy have done

wonderful work; and so has Douglas.... I seem to have cost my friends

much in all kinds of ways in this campaign; that was one of the reasons

why I so hated to go into it.” Many people misjudged his motives and

thought that he went into it for selfish purposes; never was there a

more mistaken conception of the actions of a patriot.

In a letter written September 1, he says: “I am just leaving for the

West. It has been a very interesting fight, and never was there a fight

better worth making, but the exertion is tremendous, and I look forward

to Election Day as the end of a battle.”

During that Western trip, he had one of his greatest personal ovations.

One of the Western newspapers says:

“In Portland, Oregon, the city practically stopped business and turned

out to receive its guest. In each city, the personal element of the

greeting was remarkable. No one was thinking of Colonel Roosevelt in

connection with his past office as President. He was ‘Roosevelt.’ It

was ‘Hello Teddy’ and ‘Hurrah for Teddy’ everywhere along the densely

packed streets where he appeared. His speeches to these multitudes

were neither original nor new, but the people understood them.

The enthusiasm of these western cities for the ex-President seems

almost fabulous. At Portland, hundreds of school children escorted

the automobile. Women brought their children, cripples were wheeled

to horse blocks, men climbed on cornices and pediments, mothers of

twins pressed to the side of the car, people literally blackened

sidewalks, residence verandas, windows of houses, even the trees. At

Tacoma a woman was heard to remark, ‘If this ex-President has lost his

popularity, I would hate to be in a crowd that had gathered to see an

ex-President who had _not_ lost his popularity,’--and everywhere he

preached the common-sense doctrine:--

“Now friends, what I have said to you is pretty elementary,--so

elementary that it comes mighty near being commonplace, but I will tell

you that the truths that really count are the elementary truths. The

individual whom we respect is not merely the brilliant individual. The

man whom we wish our sons to resemble is the man who has the ordinary

virtues developed to more than the ordinary degree.”

He himself believed that he was not a man of genius but only a man with

average talents, talents which by sheer determination and will-power he

had developed to a more than ordinary degree.

Shortly after the ovation in Oregon, he writes on September 15 from San

Francisco: “Of course this trip is inconceivably wearing, but what a

fine fight it is, anyhow!” To him it was a great crusade for the right,

and his soul was at white heat in the cause of righteousness.

Later came the dramatic moment in Milwaukee when he received in his

breast the bullet of a would-be assassin. He protected the man,

believing him to be insane, from the angry crowd who would have gladly

torn him limb from limb; and then proceeded, though bleeding from an

open wound, to make what he fully believed would probably be the last

speech that he would ever make in this world. The doctors could not

influence him to give up the speech, for he said that should it prove

to be his last, it was all the more important that he should make it.

But, thank Heaven, it was not his last!

During his convalescence in the hospital in Chicago, he sent me one

of his sympathetic letters about another recently published poem,

and also replied to a letter from Sir George Trevelyan as follows:

“I must say I have never understood public men who got nervous about

assassination. For the last eleven years I have, of course, thoroughly

understood that I might at any time be shot, and probably _would_ be

shot sometime. I think I have come off uncommonly well. What I cannot

understand is any serious-minded public man not being so absorbed in

the great, vital questions with which he has to deal, as to exclude

thoughts of assassination. I don’t think this is a matter of courage at

all. I think it a question of the major interest driving out the minor

interest. Exactly as with the army,--a private may have qualms,--hot so

a General. He is responsible for more than his personal safety. It is

not a question of courage, it is a question of perspective, of proper

proportion.” Nothing has ever been more in keeping with the actions of

Theodore Roosevelt than the above sentence: “it is a question of the

major interest driving out the minor interest.” With him, all through

his life, the sense of proportion was a prominent part of his make-up.

The “major interest” always drove out the “minor interest,” and so

strong was his sense of responsibility, so absorbed was he in the great

affairs of his country, that the thought of possible assassination

never entered his valiant breast.

The greatest moment of all that inspiring period of his life came late

in October, at the end of the campaign, when Theodore Roosevelt,

the bullet still in his breast, but miraculously restored to health

and strength, came to the city of his birth to make the final speech

of the Progressive campaign at Madison Square Garden. Not only was

the spirit of the Crusade higher than ever, but the danger so lately

experienced by their leader had given to his followers an exaltation

never surpassed at any time in our political history. I have always

been glad that for some unexplained reason the pass which had been

given to me that night for my motor was not accepted by the policeman

in charge, and I, my husband, my son Monroe, and our friend Mrs.

Parsons were obliged to take our places in the cheering, laughing,

singing crowd which formed in line many blocks below the Garden to walk

up to the entrance-door. How it swayed and swung! how it throbbed with

life and elation! how imbued it was with an earnest party ambition, and

yet, with a deep and genuine religious fervor. Had I lived my whole

life only for those fifteen minutes during which I marched toward

the Garden already full to overflowing with my brother’s adoring

followers, I should have been content to do so. We could hardly get

into the building, and indeed had to climb up the fire-escape, which

we were only allowed to do after making it well known that I was the

sister of the “Colonel.” (There never was but one “Colonel” in American

history!) The whole meeting was one of an ineffable and intense

emotional quality. We could hear the singing and the cheers of the

thousands outside on the street, as inside my brother came forward to

the platform, and the vast audience rose to its feet to acclaim its

hero. Such moments do not often occur in a lifetime, and when they do,

they leave in their wake a wonderful sense of what the highest type of

religion should mean--a religion selfless as the Christlike faith upon

which all true religion is founded.

A few days later, Woodrow Wilson, the Democratic though minority

candidate, was elected President of the United States.

XV

WHISPERINGS OF WAR

SAGAMORE HILL

He is a moose,

Scarred, battered from the hunters, thickets, stones:

Some finest tips of antlers broken off,

And eyes where images of ancient things

Flit back and forth across them, keeping still

A certain slumberous indifference,

Or wisdom, it may be.

--Edgar Lee Masters.

Rightly to be great

Is not to stir, without great argument,

But greatly to find quarrel in a straw

When Honour’s at the stake.

--Hamlet.