Theodore Roosevelt: An Address Delivered by Henry Cabot Lodge Before the Congress of the United StatesLodge, Henry Cabot
History
Theodore Roosevelt: An Address Delivered by Henry Cabot Lodge Before the Congress of the United States
Lodge, Henry Cabot
Roosevelt, Theodore, 1858-1919
All men admire courage, and that he possessed in the highest degree.
But he had also something larger and rarer than courage, in the
ordinary acceptation of the word. When an assassin shot him at
Milwaukee he was severely wounded; how severely he could not tell,
but it might well have been mortal. He went on to the great meeting
awaiting him and there, bleeding, suffering, ignorant of his fate,
but still unconquered, made his speech and went from the stage to the
hospital. What bore him up was the dauntless spirit which could rise
victorious over pain and darkness and the unknown and meet the duty of
the hour as if all were well. A spirit like this awakens in all men
more than admiration, it kindles affection and appeal to every generous
impulse.
Very different, but equally compelling, was another quality. There is
nothing in human beings at once so sane and so sympathetic as a sense
of humor. This great gift the good fairies conferred upon Theodore
Roosevelt at his birth in unstinted measure. No man ever had a more
abundant sense of humor--joyous, irrepressible humor--and it never
deserted him. Even at the most serious and even perilous moments if
there was a gleam of humor anywhere he saw it and rejoiced and helped
himself with it over the rough places and in the dark hour. He loved
fun, loved to joke and chaff, and, what is more uncommon, greatly
enjoyed being chaffed himself. His ready smile and contagious laugh
made countless friends and saved him from many an enmity. Even more
generally effective than his humor, and yet allied to it, was the
universal knowledge that Roosevelt had no secrets from the American
people.
Yet another quality--perhaps the most engaging of all--was his homely,
generous humanity which enabled him to speak directly to the primitive
instinct of man.
He dwelt with the tribes of the marsh and moor,
He sate at the board of kings;
He tasted the toil of the burdened slave
And the joy that triumph brings.
But whether to jungle or palace hall
Or white-walled tent he came,
He was brother to king and soldier and slave
His welcome was the same.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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