An Essay on Theodore Roosevelt by Edgar Lee Masters
Edgar Lee Masters
The rise of Mr. Roosevelt to the presidency of the United States
brought into the arena of world interests a third
figure similar in temperament and imagination to two others who had before his time
occupied conspicuous places in
current history. In poetry, in philosophy and in statesmanship movements are distinguished
by schools of men who
are animated by the same inspiration. Germany furnishes the illustration of Goethe and
Schiller; France that of
Voltaire and Rousseau; England that of Fox, Pitt and Burke, and later, in poetry, that of
Shelley, Byron and
Coleridge. In America, Emerson, Alcott, Thoreau and Margaret Fuller developed the
transcendental philosophy;
while in statesmanship we associate upon general principles the names of Jefferson,
Madison and Monroe; or those
of Webster and Clay.
The tide of imperialism did not reach America until the war with Spain was concluded.
Its waters had lapped
the foundations of other governments long before; and even in America discerning
intellects saw the drift of the
current as early as the war between the states. That war elevated a school of political
thinkers who placed
government above men and who were bewitched with those policies of special privilege which
centralized the
government and prepared it for the final step. Mr. McKinley nevertheless may be said to
have ended the line of the
familiar school of American presidents. His physical appearance was of that character for
which the people are
accustomed to look in the selection of their presidents. His manner and his speech were
modeled after the
presidential type. And yet he bore some resemblance to Augustus Caesar. Like the latter,
Mr. McKinley was a
dissembler; he was plausible; he was crafty. He kept the people convinced that no change
was being made in their
government even in the face of apparent facts. But with the rise of Mr. Roosevelt the
transformation was no longer
concealed which had been obscured by the platitudes and the pious fallacies of his
predecessor. Mr. Roosevelt
obtrudes his imperial plans and preferences instead of hiding them. His demagoguery
consists in appeals to the brutal
tendencies in man, through slouch hat and clanking spur and through crude familiarities
with soldiers and policemen.
Yet in this apparel he is as far from the presidential figure as possible. The
cropped-hair, the nose-glasses with the
flying thread attached, the facial mannerisms and eccentricities place him apart from the
dignified and courtly school
of Buchanan, Garfield, Cleveland, Harrison or McKinley. If Mr. Roosevelt's successor shall
wear a monocle and
lead a pug dog, we ought not to marvel.
When Mr. Roosevelt became president both what he was himself and what the times were, made
it entirely
appropriate that he should take his place beside Mr. Kipling and Emperor William. These
three men are the product
of the same mood of nature. They are moved by the same ideals, if those convictions can be
called such which lead
men into the ways of vulgarity and violence. Mr. Kipling was reared in the most extensive,
as well as the most
despotic dependency of Great Britain. He had drunk to the full at the fountain of blood
and gold. The history of
Great Britain's dominion over India is one of chicane and murder, hypocrisy and plunder.
Mr. Kipling's mind became
filled with the images of military bluster and the principles of military honor. Scenes
that would have convulsed the
soul of Milton or Byron afforded him the material for casuistical doggerel. And by the
strength of his imagination and
because of a peculiar genius for popular appeal he filled the world with the echoes of the
music hall, the barracks and
the brothel. His songs brought poetry down to the level of the prize ring, the cock-pit
and the racing stable. He
became the de facto laureate of England. So that butchery, oppression, and what hypocrites
call destiny, acquired a
glamour that thrilled the hearts of those who would have been horrified at these things in
their visible forms. At last, at
an opportune time, he sealed his hold upon the religious world by an anthropomorphic poem
entitled "Recessional,"
in which the Deity is made to do duty as a military overseer for the armies of Great
Britain, wherever they are
engaged in planting the banner of empire. In brief, Mr. Kipling is the laureate of
strenuosity, and has done as much to
corrupt the tastes and the manners of the world as any man who has lived in an hundred
years. Emperor William
approaches Mr. Roosevelt on many more sides than does Mr. Kipling. Emperor William is also
strenuous; but he
pretends to be what Mr. Roosevelt desires to have believed of himself, namely, that he is
many-minded and
triumphant in several fields of endeavor. The emperor aspires to be a writer, an orator,
an artist, a poet, an architect,
a savant, a hunter, a military genius; and he is some of these things to a degree as well
as an emperor. All of these
things may be said of Mr. Roosevelt, besides some others along the same line. For Mr.
Roosevelt can wrestle, box,
fence, ride and shoot as well as write histories and biographies; make speeches and win
battles. He is a mixture of
Caesar and Commodus; and the vaunted resolution with which he took up the Philippine
problem in 1901, and the
stringency with which it was carried out, shows that he is not averse to the effusion of
blood when it is drawn in a
patriotic cause. Neither was Tiberius, whose causes were always patriotic or justifiable.
These three spirits, then,
may be said either together or successively to have controlled the surface of the world's
movement for a time; for
now their power seems to be on the wane. But Mr. Roosevelt is different from his compeers
in the point that he had
a period of idealism in the early part of his career which neither Emperor William nor Mr.
Kipling, so far as known,
ever had.
But first as to his strenuosity it seems to be a reaction from physical feebleness. He has
accentuated the
attributes of courage, endurance and physical power for the reason that they were not
natural to him, but have been
acquired. The man who is born strong is not more self-conscious of his strength than the
man who is born with sound
limbs and faculties is self-conscious of these. But the man who is born weak and who has
acquired strength is proud
of his achievement and is self-conscious of it. Sedulous self-development has caused Mr.
Roosevelt to emphasize the
physical life. Nothing with him counts for so much as power of endurance, the audacity to
encounter danger, physical
contest, the animal in man and their capacity to greatly propagate themselves. Ordinarily
these feelings pass away
with the period of adolescence, when the first rush of blood has subsided from the head.
But Mr. Roosevelt has
carried them over into his mature years and exploits them as peculiar wonders
characteristic of himself. This is the
meaning of the strenuous life. Amidst such tumultuous passions the writing of books is a
pastime. The warfare against
civic wrong and for civic righteousness must be waged with grim determination, with set
teeth and scowling
countenance. But at all events the courage and the strenuosity with which the attack is
made must be emphasized
more than the merit of the onslaught or the righteousness of the cause. Mr. Roosevelt's
advice to speak softly but
carry a big stick, his admonitions to avoid ignoble ease, to stand for civic
righteousness, to back our words with
deeds and to couple Christian principles with resolute courage sound hollow and puerile.
There is too much of
cruelty and tyranny in his self-vaunted courage. His pompous poses, his spectacular
manner, and his exhibitions of
power on all occasions suggest the strong little boy of the school yard, who, by a fair
measure of strength and a large
measure of fortune, is able greatly to his own delight to cow the feelings of his
associates.
But if a man possess courage how shall he use it? If he possess great energy of mind in
what channels shall he
direct it? What are courage and ability of themselves? Of what consequence is the
strenuous life for its own sake?
The world has seen its share of men who had courage on the wrong side and who were
strenuous in behalf of the
strong and wicked. Mr. Roosevelt's civic righteousness consists in straining at gnats. He
is very much concerned
about the vices of people and about crimes as well, if they happen to be committed by
those with whom he is
socially out of sympathy. But with the rarest opportunities for giving his country a new
birth of righteousness and
liberty, that has ever come to any man, he has done nothing. He has not justified the
people of America in conferring
their highest honor upon him. But as Aeschines said, when he debated the question whether
Demosthenes should be
crowned, he has left his country to be judged by its youth because of the man who has
received its greatest honor.
"When a man votes against what is noble and just," said Aeschines, "and
then comes home to teach his son, the boy
will very properly say, 'Your lesson is impertinent and a bore.'" Hence, what is
courage without a cause; what is
strenuosity without an ideal?
The temptation considered symbolically alone is the most searching analysis of every man's
experience in the
realm of literature. The Son of Man was an hungered and the tempter said "If thou be
the son of God command that
these stones be made bread." Again, the Son of Man was tempted to use his power for a
vain and foolish purpose,
and by such use to place himself upon the level of mountebanks and magicians. Finally,
empire over the world was
offered him, if he would worship the principle of evil. In the resistance of these
temptations is symbolized honorable
poverty, dignified purpose and renunciation of political power rather than to sacrifice
those principles without which
political power is a curse.
One of Mr. Roosevelt's apologists has said that he compromised with his ideals in order to
get power to carry
some of them into effect. But this never has and never can be done. The man who thus
sophisticates with his own
mind has surrendered his power. He has fallen at the feet of evil in order to possess a
kingdom; and he leaves behind
him when he enters into possession, the only power by which he could serve the kingdom or
glorify himself. If Mr.
Roosevelt's pretensions to ideals in his earlier years may be considered seriously it only
remains to say that in various
books he stood against the flagrant evil of a protective tariff; that he denounced
imperialism, that is, the acquisition of
distant and heterogeneous territory by force; and that he never lost an opportunity to
inveigh against the spoils system
in the government service. When he capitulated upon these principles to get office, he had
nothing left with which to
seriously employ his courage or his strenuosity. It was a long step from the advocacy of
expansion by the addition of
sovereign and contiguous states to the advocacy of subjugating a whole nation at the
farther side of the globe. Yet
when Mr. Roosevelt parted with his principles he did not abandon his intemperate hatreds.
"Cowardly shrinking from
duty," as applied to the policy expressed in the democratic platform of 1900 contains
a good deal of sound and fury,
but it signified nothing unless it drowned out the small voice in himself that appealed to
his own utterances in favor of
liberty in his biography of Thomas H. Benton. Hence did he compromise with his principles
in order to get into
power to do good? When his country hesitated before taking the plunge into national
animalism he was present to
denounce those as cowards who tried to restrain it. He became the loudest exponent of
swaggering militarism. He
has given repeated expression to that vulgarity which arrayed in garish colors sets up to
despise the day of high
thinking and noble simplicity. The strenuous life consists in hearty feeding, mighty
hunting, desperate climbing, and
daily exercise upon the mat or with the gloves. Yet he is the cynosure of vast numbers of
the wealth and fashion of
the country, who find in him a proud and distinguished interpreter of the cult of
exuberant animalism. The slaughter of
the ostrich, the rhinoceros and the elephant in the Roman amphitheater with the bow and
arrow held by the skillful
hand of the imperial hunter is out-done by the pursuit of bears and mountain lions with
modern weapons before an
audience of millions. The daily press with its pictorial facilities has increased the
spectators and multiplied the
marvels. Scattered through the various strata of society Mr. Roosevelt has found sincere
admirers. A military spirit,
which slumbers in the breast of the man below who loves to fight and the man above who
loves to see a fight, has
leaped forward to claim Mr. Roosevelt as something typically American. Thus he is not
without friends in any of the
classes drawn according to the common standards. His election to the vice-presidency
elated an exponent of the
culture of the land, so that even beneath the shades of classicism he is not wholly
proscribed. Churchmen, who, with
a vague unrest, are ever reaching out for new realms of activity, and keener realizations
of power, take him as the
possible precursor of some destiny toward which they have hitherto drifted unconsciously.
With his friends it is
useless to point out that he has discarded the institutions of his country and broken its
ideals. For principles of peace
and good will toward all nations he has substituted military rivalry. He has transported
hither the spirit of doubt which
obtains among European nations whose proximity to each other and whose traditional
jealousies have kept up a
wearisome watchfulness.
Many things, which by reason of what Washington called our peculiar situation, are alien
to us he has helped
to cultivate among us. One hundred years have not sufficed to make these growths of old
world conditions
indigenous to this soil. We are yet what we were in Washington's day, a nation set apart
from the quarrels of kings;
and it is strange indeed if some dream of destiny which would have discredited Louis
Napoleon, shall carry us far
away from that simple code which is logically evolved from our natural situation.
Mr. Roosevelt well illustrates the principle that the decay of liberty corrupts one of the
noblest arts. What can
account for his speeches in which the American people are advised to carry a big stick, in
which policemen are
praised for their swift running, and in which mighty valor, mighty deeds, great daring and
such subjects are the
changes which are rung? Sober people listen in amazement to these singular strains, well
understanding that they
cannot help but vitiate popular sentiment at home and produce anxiety and hatred abroad. A
man who carries a stick
or a pistol will more likely be attacked than the man who does not go armed. For the
arming of one's self is the result
of a feeling of hate and the very fact that he is armed makes him dangerous to those who
are not. The impulse of
self-preservation prompts the removal of the danger. These things are as true of nations
as of men. To keep the
country upon the edge of war because of some fancied contingency, and to depart into a
path of danger for the sole
purpose of greatly daring and bravely facing whatever peril may come, involve the
overthrow of all this country has
hitherto stood for, and that through a spirit of boyish bravado. Nothing more absurd has
ever occurred in the history
of any nation. To speak of mere form, there is a marked rhetorical difference between Mr.
McKinley's apostrophic
question "who will haul down the flag" and Mr. Roosevelt's crude declaration
that "the flag will stay put." As an
orator Mr. Roosevelt has nothing to say and says it as poorly as possible.
Court etiquette at the White House is only a reflex of more fundamental changes. The
transformation of that
historic building into a palace; the ruthless removal and storage of cherished pictures
and furniture; the galloping of
cavalry through the streets of the capital attending upon officials or embassies; the
designation of Mr. Roosevelt as
"the presence" which is now done in the reports of the social functions of the
White House; a rigid system of caste; a
policy of militarism, inquisition and espionage in the executive department of the
government are also significant things
which cannot be overlooked.
It goes without saying that Mr. Roosevelt has never shown any regard for constitutional
liberty; and that he
seems to have little understanding of the real forces of civilization. Those who will
attend to the lesson may learn that
nothing can ever come of observing the little virtues while the weightier matters of the
law are neglected. The lack of
great principles and those firmly adhered to can never be compensated by intentions,
however good or by private
virtues however admirable. Sanguine spirits comfort themselves with the thought that if
Mr. Roosevelt is given power
on his own account that he will not carry out another's policy but will consider himself
free to pursue one of his own.
If he was looking for an immortality as glorious as any known to history he could achieve
it by giving this country a
new birth of freedom. The republic is groaning under the weight of sin. Its conscience is
tormented with a sense of
awful guilt, with a knowledge of duty forsaken and ideals discarded and shattered.
Millions of men who love the
republic and who took no part in its iniquities look forward with passionate hearts to a
return of liberty. If Mr.
Roosevelt should be able to withdraw our control from the Philippines and assist these
people in establishing a
republic he would justly stand for all times as the most colossal figure of the twentieth
century. Here is a field for his
courage and his strenuosity. Here is an opportunity which a truly wise man would not pass
over. But it is not likely
that he will fulfill any such expectations. He abandoned his ideals to get office. He will
reassure the master forces of
his party in order to be elected president. He will go into office with the chains which
are the price of moral
surrender. He is too vain, too infatuated with the sophistry of privilege and glory to do
differently in the future from
what he has done in the past. He has robed the office of president, and the government
itself, so far as under his
control, in the splendor and pomp of monarchy. This is apparel which speaks the man. As he
called Jefferson a
"shifty doctrinaire," and Polk a man of "monumental littleness" he
cannot complain if history shall write him down as
one whose inordinate egotism and prostituted principles endangered for a time the hopes of
mankind.
From The New Star Chamber and Other Essays. Chicago: Hammersmark, 1904.
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