CHAPTER VII

VICTORS AND SPOILS

William Sewall was correct in his surmise that his beloved "Boss" was returning to New York to accept a nomination for the mayoralty. That was early in the autumn of 1886. When Roosevelt told Sewall that the job which awaited him would keep him in a row all the time and that he did not like it, I think that he told only half of what he felt. In a sense he may have dreaded the strife and struggle of the impending campaign, but in a larger, more lasting sense he enjoyed the prospect of entering it.

The quality in him which I find most difficult of analysis both by my own study and by consultation with my friends and his friends is his astonishing energy, expressed both physically and mentally. I cannot account for it fully, either by known laws of heredity or by the fact that he persistently and intelligently built up and repaired and rebuilt his physical as well as his intellectual equipment all through his life. The fact that he was a very sound sleeper as he has assured me — will ac

count, at least in part, for his wonderful resources of nervous strength. But these explanations do not fully explain. He was exceptional in his tireless vigor, mental and physical.

eager,

Therefore, when the call to righteous, patriotic combat in the municipal arena of New York came to him, I know that he welcomed it. Here was his opportunity for action, and for action which would be on the side of reform and righteousness. He welcomed it confidently, out of the full stores of his strength, as the thoroughly trained pugilist welcomes his adversary in the ring, or the well-equipped legal advocate welcomes the district attorney. For the pugilist "in the pink of condition" and the court advocate armed at all legal points are more fully themselves than at any other time in their lives. And contest, combat, becomes a joy.

A story told by Mrs. Corinne Roosevelt Robinson regarding her brother illustrates the joy in combat of this "Happy Warrior." She recalls his "first public speech in New York." It was a form of debate at the Union Club. Roosevelt spoke first, and upon Americanism. He was followed by St. Clair McKelway, who sought to play with this new unknown young man, cat-and-mouse fashion. He spoke jeeringly yet skillfully of Roosevelt's "isms." Applause from the audience punctuated

his sentences. Mrs. Robinson - then in her teens - grew anxious, because her brother was expected to reply. For a short time, as she glanced at him, his countenance was grave and even anxious. Then she saw his unique smile come to his face and a gleam to his eyes, and she knew that he was eager to get to his feet. This he did in due time, and began vigorously, confidently, joyously, “I do not need ten minutes for my reply. I need no more than one. I call to the gentleman's attention one 'ism' very dear to me and much overlooked, here and elsewhere, by him. I mean patriot-ism." And he poured out a flood of impassioned and even personal arraignment which brought a storm of applause from the company present and considerably disconcerted the indiscreet journalist who had inadvertently brought this onslaught upon his own head.

In an hour like that, Roosevelt was' most truly himself intellectually, morally; quite as he was most truly himself physically, when he faced and killed that savage grizzly bear, in 1889, on the western side of the Yellowstone Park, Idaho.

So I feel sure that Roosevelt went back to the complexity of New York life and to its relentless rivalries and deadly conflicts with a glad smile and an eager spirit. But, as it happened, the strife upon which he entered was brief, abortive.

The political group which had nominated him was composed of independents and Republicans who sought to defeat the Democratic party, locally known as "Tammany", and portrayed in popular cartoons as a tiger. Tammany, made anxious by the opposition, had nominated an excellent man, Abram Hewitt. And this man's popularity was so great that struggle against him was doomed to failure. Nevertheless Roosevelt went into the contest with zeal and doubtless enjoyed the strenuous days and nights, even though he failed of election.

He was not seriously discouraged, however, and he had recovered, in the main, his full vigor of body and normal poise of mind and spirit, so impaired by his great sorrow. And he now gave his attention to his literary work. Also he went across the ocean to England, where, on December second, at St. George's, London, he was married to Miss Edith Kermit Carow, who had been his playmate in childhood.

The two had been firm friends through the years. She and Theodore and Corinne Roosevelt had joined in games and excursions many times; and when in Europe, at the age of eleven, he had written to her with slightly defective orthography telling her that she was his most faithful correspondent. In his diary of that juvenile period he records, "In the evening Mamma showed me a pic

ture of Edith Carow and it stirred up in me homesickness and longings for the past."

This marriage was a happy union of hearts and harmony of temperaments which bore nobly, richly, through all the years, the tests that come to all married lives. Most happy marriages are based upon a divergence of temperaments and a community of character. Throughout their united life Mrs. Roosevelt was the calming, steadying force and he was the originating, resourceful leader. She gave a ready and sympathetic ear to his numberless plans and helped him to a wise selection among them.

After remaining several months in Europe, the two returned to the United States and settled in the house which he had built at Sagamore Hill, Oyster Bay, Long Island. This was destined to be their home, the scene of their happy family life, throughout their length of united days. It was within an hour's railroad journey of New York City, and it afforded all the opportunities for that outdoor life, on land and water, which Roosevelt and all his family loved so well.

Here he now set about literary work. Through pen and paper he gained that expression of his nature which he craved, in a remarkable degree. It was inevitable that he should put into writing the experiences and reflections which had been his