Theodore Rex - Edmund Morris [225]
France, of course, was Germany’s traditional enemy (as Mr. Perdicaris had discovered in his own household), and currently very vulnerable because her ally, Russia, was distracted with war elsewhere. In singling out France’s efforts to obtain a commercial and military monopoly in Morocco, Wilhelm cleverly made her seem no less greedy than Russia in Manchuria. This put Roosevelt in the difficult position of having to agree with him, or seem hypocritical in demanding free trade elsewhere. If the President did so agree—to the detriment of Théophile Delcassé’s most cherished strategic dream, a “Triple Entente” among London, Paris, and St. Petersburg—Germany could not only strengthen its own North African presence, but also woo France away from Russia, and gain immensely in European influence. Great Britain, in turn, might begin to bristle for war, since the English were convinced that the Kaiser had designs on their homeland.
Roosevelt’s first instinct was to stall. He did not want to seem ungrateful for help France had given him in his own little Moroccan adventure, ten months before. More seriously, he felt his peacemaking credentials with the Japanese would be compromised if they saw him being manipulated by the Tsar’s cousin. Then, on 31 March, Wilhelm made a surprise visit to Tangier and aggressively repeated his demand for an international solution to the Moroccan problem.
“The Kaiser has had another fit,” Roosevelt wrote Hay. “What a jumping creature he is, anyhow!”
Von Sternburg was fobbed off with a noncommittal note that was more applicable to the Far Eastern situation. When, inevitably, Wilhelm jumped again, Roosevelt was prepared to say that the United States would not agree to any parley on Morocco without France’s consent.
April came with no sign of willingness by either Russia or Japan to take the first formal step toward peace. Both sides were afraid of “losing face.” However, they kept hinting, mainly through French intermediaries, that they were weary of war. Envoys of the various alliances besieged Roosevelt. In just one week he had to listen to Takahira, Cassini (twice), von Sternburg (three times), Jusserand, and Sir H. Mortimer Durand, a “worthy creature of mutton-suet consistency” who to his annoyance had been appointed Great Britain’s latest ambassador, instead of Cecil Spring Rice. None would commit their own countries to anything, yet they expected him to squeeze commitments out of others. Exasperated—“I wish the Japs and Russians could settle it between themselves”—Roosevelt decided to go ahead with a long-planned hunting trip in search of western wolves and bears. He needed to satisfy his ebbing yet still compulsive blood-lust. Presumably nothing decisive would happen in the Far East until Russia’s Baltic Fleet struck the blow St. Petersburg so counted on. That might not be until May.
Rather than leave the White House in charge of Vice President Fairbanks, who had been relegated to near-total obscurity since the Inauguration, Roosevelt assigned crisis-management powers to William Howard Taft. “I am not entirely satisfied with the foreign situation,” he admitted to Hay, “but there isn’t anything of sufficient importance to warrant my staying.”
Rumors proliferated that Taft was the President’s chosen successor. Edith Roosevelt worried about the growing fondness of each man for the other. When Theodore asked Taft for advice, what he usually got was approval. “They are too much alike.” She felt that her husband had been better served during his first term by the cool counsel of Philander Knox and Elihu Root. His natural ebullience tended toward explosiveness unless periodically checked. He might joke about having Big Bill around to “sit on the lid,” but politically speaking Root had packed more weight. Taft wanted to love and be loved. Consequently, he was easy to push, easy to hurt. Already