The rise of Theodore Roosevelt - Edmund Morris [318]
Remember the MAINE!
To hell with Spain!
ALMOST UNNOTICED, in the general uproar, was a historic memo from Theodore Roosevelt to John D. Long. He wished to draw the Secretary’s attention to the “flying machine” of his friend Professor S. P. Langley, having watched it briefly flutter over the Potomac River.76 “The machine has worked,” Roosevelt wrote. “It seems to me worth while for this Government to try whether it will not work on a large enough scale to be of use in the event of war.” He recommended that a board of four scientifically trained officers be appointed to examine the strategic and economic aspects of producing flying machines “on a large scale.” After some prodding, Secretary Long agreed, and named Charles H. Davis chairman of the board. By the time Davis reported on the “revolutionary” potential of air warfare, the Assistant Secretary had moved on to other things. It would be a long time before Roosevelt was recognized as the earliest official proponent of U.S. Naval Aviation.77
HAGGARD, SMUDGE-EYED, drugged, and occasionally tearful as the inevitability of war forced itself upon him, President McKinley managed to maintain statesmanlike decorum at least through the end of March.78 While Congress debated the Maine report, he sent an ultimatum to Madrid courteously demanding a declaration of armistice in Cuba, effective 1 April. His terms stipulated that he be mediator of any subsequent negotiations for peace between the Spanish Government and the insurrectos. If no agreement was reached by 1 October (i.e., five weeks before the fall elections), McKinley would assume the role of final arbiter. He also insisted that all reconcentrado prisoners be set free, and that Spain cooperate with the United States in relief efforts.79
On Thursday, the last day of the month, Queen María Christina’s ministers agreed to all points of McKinley’s ultimatum except that of armistice. If the insurrectos wished to declare a truce themselves, well and good; Spain would not end four centuries of New World dominion with an ignominious acceptance of defeat.80 McKinley saw no flexibility, only obstructionism, in this reply. After a weekend of sleepless deliberation, he decided, around midnight on 3 April, that he could not afford to gamble with Cuba, or with Congress, or with the Republican party any longer. The will of the American people, reiterated ad nauseam by Assistant Secretary Roosevelt (whom in self-defense, he had finally stopped seeing), must be heeded. McKinley went to bed and next morning began work on a war message to Congress.81
THE IMMINENCE OF WAR, like the imminence of death, is enough to give the most ardent soul a momentary pause, to reaffirm basic truths and articulate thoughts long held in suppression. In such frame of mind did Theodore Roosevelt write one of his best letters, to William Sturgis Bigelow, while Madrid pondered McKinley’s ultimatum. For once he wrote calmly, reasonably, without any attempt at vulgar bravado:
I say quite sincerely that I shall not go for my own pleasure. On the contrary if I should consult purely my own feelings I should earnestly hope that we would have peace. I like life very much. I have always led a joyous life. I like thought, and I like action, and it will be very bitter to me to leave my wife and children; and while I think I could face death with dignity, I have no desire before my time has come to go out into the everlasting darkness.… So I shall not go into a war with any undue exhilaration of spirits or in a frame in any way approaching recklessness or levity; but my best work here is done.
… One of the commonest taunts directed at men like myself is that we are armchair and parlor jingoes