Part 28

The signatures included many of the most distinguished citizens of the various States of America. My brother accepted this call to duty, although he had hoped to speak but little after his exhausting campaign in the West. I regret to say that I was not present at that meeting, at which, from what I have heard, he spoke with a conviction and a spiritual intensity rare even in him. The speech was called “The Soul of the Nation.”

With burning words Theodore Roosevelt tried to arouse the nation’s soul; with phrases hot from a heart on fire he portrayed the place we should take by the side of the countries who were fighting for the hope of the world, but the ears of the people were closed to all but the words that we had been kept “out of war.” The day of the Lord was not yet at hand.

XVII.

WAR

Thou gavest to party strife the epic note, And to debate the thunder of the Lord; To meanest issues fire of the Most High. Hence eyes that ne’er beheld thee now are dim, And alien men on alien shores lament.

--Stephen Phillips on Gladstone.

Election Day, 1916, dawned with the apparent success of the Republican party at the polls, but it eventually proved that the slogan, “He kept us out of war,” had had its way, and that the Democrats were returned to power.

Needless to say, the disappointment both to the followers of Charles E. Hughes and of Theodore Roosevelt was keen beyond words. My brother, however, following his usual philosophy, set himself to work harder than ever to arouse his countrymen to the true appreciation of the fact that, with Europe aflame, America could hardly long remain out of the conflagration.

During the following winter, however, in spite of the great cloud that hung over the whole world, in spite of the intimate knowledge that we all shared that neither would we nor could we avoid the horror that was to come, occasionally there would be brief moments of old-time gaiety in our family life, little intervals of happy companionship, oases in the desert of an apprehension that was in itself prophetic. I remember saying to my brother one day: “Theodore, you know that I belong to the Poetry Society of America, and a great many of its members wish to meet you. I have really been very considerate of you, and although this wish has been frequently expressed for some years in the society, I have spared you heretofore, but the moment has come!” “Must I meet the poets, Pussie?” he said laughingly and rather deprecatingly. “Yes,” I replied firmly. “The poets have their rights quite as much as the politicians, and the time for the poets is at hand.” “All right--name your day,” he answered, and so a day was named, and I invited a number of my friends amongst the poets to take tea with me on a certain afternoon to meet Colonel Roosevelt. I remember I asked him to try to come from his office early enough for me to jog his memory about some of the work of my various poet friends, but a large number of verse writers had already gathered in my sitting-room before he arrived. I placed him by my side and asked a friend to bring up my various guests so that I might introduce them to him. I remember the care with which I tried to connect the name of the person whom I introduced with some one of his or her writings, and I also remember the surprise with which I realized how unnecessary was all such effort on my part, for, as I would say, “Theodore, this is Mr. So-and-So, who wrote such and such,” he would rapidly respond, “But you need not tell me that. I remember that poem very well, indeed,” and turning with that delightful smile of his to the flattered author, he would say, “I like the fifth line of the third verse of that poem of yours. It goes this way,” and with that, in a strong, ringing voice, he would repeat the line referred to. As each person turned away from the word or two with him, which evidently gave him almost as much pleasure as it gave them, I could hear them say to each other, “How did he know that poem of mine?” When I myself questioned him about his knowledge of modern American poetry, he answered quite simply: “But you know I like poetry and I try to keep up on that line of literature too.” He was very fond of some of Arthur Guiterman’s clever verse, and quoted with special pleasure a sarcastic squib which the latter had just published on the navy, apropos of Mr. Daniels’s attitude: “We are sitting with our knitting on the twelve-inch guns!”

Robert Frost, who was with us that afternoon, had shortly before published a remarkable poem called “Servant to Servants,” which had attracted my brother’s attention, and of which he spoke with keen interest to the author. Nothing distressed him more than the realization of the hard work performed by the farmer’s wife almost everywhere in our country, and in this poem of Mr. Frost’s that situation was painted with his forceful pen.

This remarkable memory of my brother’s was shown not only that afternoon amongst the poets, but shortly afterward by an incident in connection with an afternoon at the Three Arts Club, where he also generously consented to spend an hour amongst the young girls who had come from various places in our broad country to study one of the three arts--drama, music, or painting--in our great metropolis. My friend Mrs. John Henry Hammond, the able president of the Three Arts Club, was anxious that he should meet her protégées and mine, for I was a manager of the club. I remember we lined the girls up in a row and had them pass in front of him in single file--several hundred young girls. Each was to have a shake of the hand and a special word from the ex-President, but none was supposed to pause more than a moment, as his time was limited. About fifty or sixty girls had already passed in front of him and received a cordial greeting, when a very pretty student, having received her greeting, paused a little longer and, looking straight at him, said: “Colonel Roosevelt, don’t you remember me?” This half-laughingly--evidently having been dared to ask the question. Holding her hand and gazing earnestly at her, he paused a moment or two and then, with a brilliant flashing smile, said: “Of course I do. You were the little girl, seven years ago, on a white bucking pony at El Paso, Texas, where I went down to a reunion of my Rough Riders. I remember your little pony almost fell backward into the carriage when it reared at the noise of the band.” There never was a more surprised girl than the one in question, for seven years had made a big difference in the child of twelve, the rider of the bucking white pony, and it had really not occurred to her that he could possibly remember the incident, but remember it he did, and one very happy heart was carried away that day from the Three Arts Club.

As the winter of 1917 slipped by, there was evidence on all sides that the slogan on which the Democratic party had based its campaign efforts must soon be falsified; nothing could keep the American people longer from their paramount duty, and on April 2, 1917, President Wilson appeared before the united bodies of the House and the Senate in Washington, and asked that Congress should declare a state of war between Germany and ourselves. Colonel Roosevelt, always anxious to back up the President in any action in which he thought he was right, went to Washington, or rather stopped in Washington, for he was in the South at the time, to congratulate him on his decision and to offer his services to assist the President in any way that might be possible.

Within a few weeks of the actual declaration of war, Mr. Roosevelt was already begging that he might be allowed to raise a volunteer division, and urging that the administration Army Bill should be supplemented with legislation authorizing the raising of from one hundred to five hundred thousand volunteers to be sent to the firing-line in Europe at the earliest possible moment. In a letter to Senator George E. Chamberlain, of Oregon, Colonel Roosevelt writes as follows:

“I most earnestly and heartily support the administration bill for providing an army raised on the principle of universal obligatory military training and service, but meanwhile, let us use volunteer forces in connection with a portion of the Regular army, in order, at the earliest possible moment,--within a few months,--to put our flag on the firing line. We owe this to humanity; we owe it to the small nations who have suffered such dreadful wrong from Germany. Most of all, we owe it to ourselves; to our national honor and self-respect. For the sake of our own souls, for the sake of the memories of the great Americans of the past, we must show that we do not intend to make this merely a dollar war. Let us pay with our bodies for our souls’ desire. Let us, without one hour’s unnecessary delay, put the American flag at the battle-front in this great world war for Democracy and civilization, and for the reign of Justice and fair-dealing among the nations of mankind.

“My proposal is to use the volunteer system not in the smallest degree as a substitute for, but as the, at present, necessary supplement to the obligatory system. Certain of the volunteer organizations could be used very soon; they could be put into the fighting in four months.... I therefore propose that there should be added to the proposed law, a section based on Section 12 of the Army Act of March 2nd, 1899....”

At the same time Representative Caldwell made an open statement as follows: “The Army Bill suggested by Secretary Baker will, in all probability, be introduced in the House on Wednesday. There have been suggestions made that a clause be placed in the proposed bill which would give Colonel Roosevelt the power to take an army division to Europe. Colonel Roosevelt outlined his plans to me.... I am a Democrat and intend to abide by the wishes of President Wilson and told Colonel Roosevelt so. We agreed that there was no politics in this matter, and from my talk with Mr. Roosevelt, I believe him to be sincere in his purpose. He gave me the names of men throughout the country who signified their intention of joining his division. They include a number of men who served as officers with him in the Spanish War, many college students, former officers and members of the National Guard, all of whom are in the best of physical condition and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Colonel Roosevelt said that a large majority of the men whom he hoped to take with him are from the south and west.”

Already, at the first intimation that Colonel Roosevelt might lead a division into France, there had flocked to his standard thousands of men, just as had been the case in the old days of the Rough Riders. As immediate as was the rallying to his standard were also the attacks made upon him for having wished to dedicate himself to this patriotic enterprise, and one of the most acrimonious debates that ever occurred in the Senate of the United States was on the subject of the amendment to that Army Bill. The Democrats, led by Senator Stone, had much to say about the unfitness of the Colonel. They did not seem to realize how strong was the desire of France to have America’s best-known citizen go to her shores at the moment when her morale was at the ebb; nor did they realize, apparently, the promise for the future that there would be in the rapid arrival of a large body of ardent American soldiers, well equipped to tide over the period of waiting before a still larger force could come to the assistance of the Allies.

Senator Hiram Johnson, orator and patriot, made a glowing defense of Colonel Roosevelt in answering Senator Stone. It is interesting to realize at this moment, when former Senator Harding is the President of the United States, that it was he who offered the amendment to the Army Bill, making it possible for Colonel Roosevelt to lead that division into France. Senator Johnson said:

“... I listened with surprise--indeed, as a senator of the United States, with humiliation--to the remarks of the senior senator from Missouri as he excoriated Theodore Roosevelt and as he held up to scorn and contumely what he termed contemptuously ‘The Roosevelt Division.’ What is it that is asked for The Roosevelt Division? It is asked only by a man who is now really in the twilight of life that he may finally lay down his life for the country that is his. It is only that he asks that he may serve that country, may go forth to battle for his country’s rights, and may do all that may be done by a human being on behalf of his nation. My God! When was it that a nation denied to its sons the right to fight in its behalf? We have stood shoulder to shoulder both sides of this Chamber in this war. To say that Roosevelt desires, for personal ambition and political favor hereafter, to go to war is to deny the entire life of this patriot.... Our distinguished senator has said that Roosevelt has toured the land in the endeavor to do that which he desires. Aye, he has toured the land; he toured the land for preparedness two and a half years ago, and he was laughed at as hysterical. He toured the land two and a half years ago and continuously since for undiluted Americanism, and you said he was filled with jingoism. To-day _you_ have adopted _his_ preparedness plan; to-day _his_ undiluted Americanism that he preached to many, to which but few listened, has become the slogan of the whole nation. He toured the land for patriotism!... After all, my friends, Roosevelt fought in the past and he fought for the United States of America; after all, he asks only that he be permitted to fight to-day for the United States of America. He is accused of a lack of experience.... There is one thing this man has--one thing that he has proven in the life he has lived in the open in this nation--he has red blood in his veins and he has the ability to fight and he has the tenacity to win when he fights, and that is the sort of an American that is needed and required in this war. I say to you, gentlemen of this particular assemblage, that if a man can raise a division, if he wishes to fight, die, if need be, for his country, it is a sad and an awful thing that his motive shall be questioned and his opinions assailed in the very act that is indeed the closing act of his career.

“Oh! for more Roosevelts in this nation; oh! for more men who will stand upon the hustings and go about the country preaching the undiluted Americanism that all of us claim to have! Oh! for more Roosevelts and more divisions of men who will follow Roosevelt! With more Roosevelts and more Roosevelt divisions, the flag of the United States will go forth in this great world conflict to the victory that every real American should desire and demand.”

Part of the afternoon just before the final vote on the above amendment to that Army Bill was spent by Theodore Roosevelt in my library in New York. Those were the days when Mr. Balfour, M. Viviani, and General Joffre were receiving the acclamation and the plaudits of the American people. At several of the great ovations given to them, Theodore Roosevelt was also on the platform, and it was frequently brought to my notice by others that the tribute to him when he entered or left the assemblage was equal in its enthusiasm to that for the distinguished guests. On the afternoon to which I have referred, the French ambassador came for a quiet cup of tea with me and my brother, and to his old friend and his sister the Colonel was willing to unbosom his heart. He spoke poignantly of his desire to lead his division into France. Over and over again he repeated: “The President need not fear me politically. No one need fear me politically. If I am allowed to go, I could not last; I am too old to last long under such circumstances. I should _crack_ [he repeated frequently: “I should _crack_”] but [with a vivid gleam of his white teeth] I _could_ arouse the belief that America was coming. I could show the Allies what was on the way, and then if I did crack, the President could use me to come back and arouse more enthusiasm here and take some more men over. That is what I am good for now, and what difference would it make if I cracked or not!”

The amendment _was_ passed that made it possible for volunteers to go to France, but the beloved wish of his heart was denied by those in authority to that most eager of volunteers, Colonel Theodore Roosevelt.

In July my brother wrote an open letter of farewell, disbanding the division for which there had been tentatively so many volunteers. After a correspondence with the secretary of war, a correspondence which Theodore Roosevelt himself has given to the world, the definite decision was made that he would not be allowed to “give his body for his soul’s desire,” and shortly after that decision I sent him the following poem, which had been shown to me by one of his devoted admirers, the poet Marion Couthouy Smith. It ran as follows:

FAREWELLS

“In old Fraunces Tavern, Once I was told Of Washington’s farewell to his generals, Generals crowned with victory, And tears filled my eyes.--

“But when I read Roosevelt’s letter disbanding his volunteers,-- Volunteers despised and rejected,-- Tears filled my heart!”

In acknowledging the poem on July 3, 1917, from Sagamore Hill, my brother writes:

“I loved your letter; and as for the little poem, I prize it more than anything that has been written about me; I shall keep it as the epitaph of the division and of me. We have just heard that Ted and Archie have landed in France. Lord Northcliffe wired me this morning that Lord Derby offered Kermit a position on the staff of the British army in Mesopotamia. [After hard fighting in Mesopotamia, Kermit was later transferred to the American forces in France.] I do not know when he will sail. Quentin has passed his examinations for the flying corps. He hopes to sail this month. Dick [Richard Derby, his son-in-law] is so anxious to go down to Camp Oglethorpe that Ethel is almost as anxious to have him go. Eleanor [young Theodore’s wife] sails for France on Saturday to do Y. M. C. A. work. _I_ remain, as a slacker ‘malgré lui!’ Give my love to Corinne and Joe and Helen and Teddy. I am immensely pleased about Dorothy’s baby. [Dorothy, my son Monroe’s wife.] Edith asked Fanny to come out on Friday with our delightful friend, Beebe the naturalist. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Beebe is a great friend of mine.”

The “slacker malgré lui” accepted the gravest disappointment of his life as he did any other disappointment--eyes forward, shoulders squared, and head thrown back. It was hard for him, however, to busy himself, as he said, with what he considered “utterly pointless and fussy activities,” when his whole soul was in the great conflict on the far side of the water, from which one of his boys was not to return, and where two of the others were to be seriously wounded.

Writing on October 5, 1917, he says: “Of course I stood by Mitchel.” This refers to a hot campaign which was waging around the figure of the young mayor of New York City, John Purroy Mitchel, who had given New York City the best administration for many a long year and was up for re-election but, unfortunately, due to many surprising circumstances, was later defeated. My brother had the greatest admiration for the fearlessness and ability of the young mayor, and later, when that same gallant American entered the flying service and was killed in a trial flight, no one mourned him more sincerely than did the man who always recognized courage and determination and patriotism in Democrat or Republican alike.

About the same time, in speaking of General Franklin Bell, who was in charge of Camp Upton, he says: “The latter is keenly eager to go abroad. He says that if he is not sent, he will retire and go abroad as a volunteer.” By a strange chance, a snapshot was taken of the first division of drafted men sent to Camp Upton just as they were passing the reviewing-stand, on which stood together Franklin Bell, John Purroy Mitchel, and Theodore Roosevelt. The expression on my brother’s face was one so spiritual, so exalted in aspect, that I am reproducing the picture.

All through that autumn he gave himself unstintedly to war work of all kinds, and amongst other things came, at my request, to a “Fatherless Children of France” booth at the great Allied Bazaar. The excitement in front of the booth as he stood there was intense, and as usual the admirers who struggled to shake his hand were of the most varied character. We decided to charge fifty cents for a hand-shake, and we laughed immoderately at the numbers of repeaters. One man, however, having apparently approached the booth from curiosity, said “it wasn’t worth it.” The indignation of the crowd was so great that immediately there were volunteers to pay for three and four extra hand-shakes to shame the delinquent!

Shortly before that, a friend of Colonel John W. Vrooman’s wrote to him about a certain meeting at the Union League Club called to witness a send-off to some of the soldiers. The writer says:

“The moment Colonel Roosevelt appeared on the reviewing stand he was recognized and the vicinity of the Club was in an uproar. Later on when visiting a party in the private dining room, he had only been in the room about three minutes when he was recognized by the girls and boys who were looking at the review from a building on the opposite side of the street. Just to show you how he reaches the heart of the people, they cheered and waved at him until his attention was attracted and he had to go to the window and salute them. Although he was an hour and a half in conversation in the club, he did not forget his little friends across the way but on leaving, went to the window and waved goodbye to them. Every youngster present will relate this incident, I am sure, for a long time to come. In leaving the Club house, he was set upon, it seemed to me, by the youngsters of the East Side so that he had to beg his way through the crowd that had been waiting in the rain three hours just to see him, and in getting into the automobile, they appeared to an on-looker to be clambering all over him, and I would not be surprised if he carried a few of them away in his pockets as he carried most of their little hearts with him.”

In the midst of all the excitement, we occasionally snatched a moment for a quiet luncheon. “Fine!” he writes me on November 5. “Yes,--Thursday,--the Langdon at 1:30. It will be fine to see Patty Selmes.” How he did enjoy seeing our mutual friend Patty Selmes that day! As “Patty Flandrau” of Kentucky she had married Tilden Selmes just about the time that Theodore Roosevelt had taken up his residence in the Bad Lands of Dakota, where the young married couple had also migrated. Nothing was ever more entertaining than to start the “don’t you remember” conversations between my brother and his old friend Mrs. Selmes. Each would cap some wild Western story of the other with one equally wild and amusing, and the tales of their adventures with the Marquis de Morés would have shamed Dumas himself!