The Star denied this assertion, and said:

“From the beginning of the discussion of the proposed League, The Star has been anxious to find practical features which it could support as a real defense toward lasting peace. In the last weeks of 1918, the matter was taken up with Colonel Roosevelt who proved to be of the same mind. He recognized the war weariness of the world,—a weariness in which he shared to the full—and was anxious to further any practical step in international organization. The difficulty was to find the practical basis. After his first editorial approving certain principles of a League, a member of The Star staff discussed the matter with him late in December at the Roosevelt Hospital. The suggestion was made that in a contribution he might point out certain things which a loosely organized League might accomplish. He replied that he could see so little that it might accomplish, in comparison with the rosy pictures that had been painted of its possibilities, that he hesitated to write on that line.

“In the course of correspondence, he wrote under date of December 28th, 1918: ‘In substance, or as our friends the diplomats say, in number, I am in hearty accord with you.... But remember that you are freer to write unsigned editorials than I am when I use my signature. If you propose a little more than can be carried out, no harm comes, but if I do so, it may hamper me for years. However, I will do my best to write you such an article as you suggest and then, probably, one on what I regard as infinitely more important, viz., our business to prepare for our own self-defense.’ A few days later, almost on the eve of his death, he wrote the following article printed in The Star on January 13th. It was dictated at his home in Oyster Bay on January 3rd, the Friday before his death, and his secretary expected to take the typed copy to him for correction the following Monday, the very Monday of his death. The following then, his final article, represents his matured judgment based on protracted discussion and correspondence. It is of peculiar importance as the last message of a man who, above every other American of his generation, combined high patriotism, practical sense and a positive genius for international relations.”

By Theodore Roosevelt

“It is, of course, a serious misfortune that our people are not getting a clear idea of what is happening on the other side. For the moment, the point as to which we are foggy is the League of Nations. We all of us earnestly desire such a league, only we wish to be sure that it will help and not hinder the cause of world peace and justice. There is not a young man in this country who has fought, or an old man who has seen those dear to him fight, who does not wish to minimize the chance of future war. But there is not a man of sense who does not know that in any such movement if too much is attempted the result is either failure or worse than failure.

* * * * *

“Would it not be well to begin with the league which we actually have in existence, the league of the Allies who have fought through this great war? Let us at the peace table see that real justice is done as among these Allies, and that while the sternest reparation is demanded from our foes for such horrors as those committed in Belgium, northern France, Armenia, and the sinking of the Lusitania, nothing should be done in the spirit of mere vengeance. Then let us agree to extend the privileges of the league as rapidly as their conduct warrants it to other nations, doubtless discriminating between those who would have a guiding part in the league and the weak nations who would be entitled to the privileges of membership, but who would not be entitled to a guiding voice in the councils. Let each nation reserve to itself and for its own decision, and let it clearly set forth questions which are non-justiciable. Let nothing be done that will interfere with our preparing for our own defense by introducing a system of universal obligatory military training modelled on the Swiss plan.

“Finally make it perfectly clear that we do not intend to take a position of an international Meddlesome Matty. The American people do not wish to go into an overseas war unless for a very great cause and where the issue is absolutely plain. Therefore, we do not wish to undertake the responsibility of sending our gallant young men to die in obscure fights in the Balkans or in Central Europe, or in a war we do not approve of. Moreover, the American people do not intend to give up the Monroe Doctrine. Let civilized Europe and Asia enforce some kind of police system in the weak and disorderly countries at their thresholds. But let the United States treat Mexico as our Balkan peninsula and refuse to allow European or Asiatic powers to interfere on this continent in any way that implies permanent or semi-permanent possession. Every one of our Allies will with delight grant this request if President Wilson chooses to make it, and it will be a great misfortune if it is not made.

“I believe that such an effort made moderately and sanely but sincerely and with utter scorn for words that are not made good by deeds, will be productive of real and lasting international good.”

No one has the right to declare what Theodore Roosevelt would or would not have done or said in connection with international problems as they arose, after his death, but every one has the right to quote his own words, written under his own signature, and no words could be stronger than those in which he made his plea for America First and for sound nationalism. But I have voluntarily gone far afield from my actual narrative.

Events continued to move with astounding rapidity in that autumn of 1918. My heart, like the heart of many another mother, was wrung by the news of the terrible fighting in the Argonne Forest, and again wrung by alternate hopes and fears as the October days drew to a close. On the 27th day of October my brother celebrated his sixtieth birthday under the quiet portal of his beloved home. As usual, I had sent to him my yearly message, in which I always told him what that day meant to me—the day when into this world, this confused, strange world that we human beings find so difficult to understand, there came his clarifying spirit, his magnetic personality, his great heart, ready always to help the weak and lift the unfortunate who were trying to lift themselves. I used to tell him that as long as he lived, no matter what my own personal sorrows were, life would retain not only happiness but also glamour for me.

In answer to my birthday letter, an answer written on his very birthday in his own handwriting, he sends me the following message. Intimate as it is, I give it in full, for in these few short lines there seems to breathe the whole spirit of my brother—the unswerving affection, the immediate response to my affection, and the wish to encourage me to face sorrows that were hard to bear by reminding me of the rare joys which I had also tasted. The manner in which he joined his own sorrows and joys to mine, the sweet compliment of the words which infer that for him I still had youthfulness, and at the end the type of humor which brought always a savor into his own life and into the lives of those whom he closely touched, all were part of that spirit.

Sagamore Hill, October 27, 1918.

Darling Pussie:—

It was dear of you to remember my birthday. Darling, after all, you and I have known long years of happiness, and you are as young as I am old.

Ever yours,
Methusaleh’s Understudy.