[Having died](https://www.reddit.com/r/HistoryMemes/s/6f8Ip9q6rE) of a pulmonary embolism, Theodore Roosevelt was buried on January 8, 1919, in a hillside plot not far from his cherished Sagamore. Old friends, some of them also erstwhile foes, attended the simple service at the church in Oyster Bay and accompanied the oak casket through the snow of that winter morning to the grave site he and Edith had selected several years before. Meanwhile, condolences and appreciations flooded in from across the country and around the world. Crowned heads, elected officials, editorialists, and assorted other admirers lauded a life well spent; even those rivals who weren’t disappointed to see him go recognized that the country wouldn’t witness his like again. Vice President [Thomas R. Marshall](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_R._Marshall), famed and derided for his acerbic whit, had this to say about TR’s passing: “**Death had to take Roosevelt sleeping, for if he had been awake, there would have been a fight.”**
But as always, Roosevelt had the last word. Shortly before his death his publisher, Scribner’s, had collected some two dozen of his recent editorials, essays, and speeches. This collection had appeared in book form at the end of 1918 and got lost amid all the other material relating to the war just over and the peace not yet begun. Roosevelt’s death, however, drew fresh attention to the author, speaking now, as it were, from beyond the realm of partisanship or pedestrian ambition. The book’s most affecting passage was written with Quentin obviously in mind, but it served just as well as an epitaph for that valiant young man’s father-and as a final affirmation of the romantic creed.
“Only those are fit to live who do not fear to die,” Roosevelt declared. “And none are fit to die who have shrunk from the joy of life and the duty of life. Both life and death are parts of the same Great Adventure.” Everyone was called to the Great Adventure, each to serve in his or her own way. In time of war, some fought, while others watched and waited. Glory rewarded the former, often bitter sorrow-though tempered by pride-the latter. Yet each showed the path to a brighter and more glorious future:
“All of us who give service, and stand ready for sacrifice, are the torch-bearers. We run with the torches until we fall, content if we can pass them to the hands of other runners. The torches whose flame is brightest are borne by the gallant men at the front, and by the gallant women whose husbands and lovers, whose sons and brothers are at the front. These men are high of soul, as they face their fate on the shell-shattered earth, or in the skies above or in the waters beneath; and no less high of soul are the women with torn hearts and shining eyes; the girls whose boy-lovers have been struck down in their golden morning, and the mothers and wives to whom word has been brought that henceforth they must walk in the shadow. These are the torch-bearers; these are they who have dared the Great
Adventure.”
Source: T.R., The Last Romantic, pages 815-816
#FIN
AlexanderCrowely on
There is a YouTube video for that
CH-LOL on
I love competition
An8thOfFeanor on
“We have never had a President before who was destitute of self-respect & of respect for his high office; we have had no President before who was not a gentleman; we have had no President before who was intended for a butcher, a dive-keeper or a bully, & missed his mission by compulsion of circumstances over which he had no control
“Mr. Roosevelt is the Tom Sawyer of the political world of the twentieth century; always showing off; always hunting for a chance to show off; in his frenzied imagination the Great Republic is a vast Barnum circus with him for a clown and the whole world for audience; he would go to Halifax for half a chance to show off and he would go to hell for a whole one.
“He is hunting wild animals heroically in Africa, with the safeguard and advertising equipment of a park of artillery and a brass band. Our people have adored this showy charlatan as perhaps no impostor of his brood has been adored since the Golden Calf, so it is to be expected that the Nation will want him back again after he is done hunting other wild animals heroically in Africa, with the safeguard and advertising equipment of a park of artillery and a brass band.”
*-Mark Twain*
TBTabby on
If you’ve read Mort, Reaper Man or Thief of Time, you know it would’ve been a good fight.
Aetius454 on
I’ve loved your recap of teddy roosevelt through this book man. Who will you do next????
TheEagleWithNoName on
Death: Stan Down, Final Wanting.
Teddy: I can Do this All Day.
SuckHerNipples on
Teddy truly was the Chuck Norris of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
8 Comments
[Having died](https://www.reddit.com/r/HistoryMemes/s/6f8Ip9q6rE) of a pulmonary embolism, Theodore Roosevelt was buried on January 8, 1919, in a hillside plot not far from his cherished Sagamore. Old friends, some of them also erstwhile foes, attended the simple service at the church in Oyster Bay and accompanied the oak casket through the snow of that winter morning to the grave site he and Edith had selected several years before. Meanwhile, condolences and appreciations flooded in from across the country and around the world. Crowned heads, elected officials, editorialists, and assorted other admirers lauded a life well spent; even those rivals who weren’t disappointed to see him go recognized that the country wouldn’t witness his like again. Vice President [Thomas R. Marshall](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_R._Marshall), famed and derided for his acerbic whit, had this to say about TR’s passing: “**Death had to take Roosevelt sleeping, for if he had been awake, there would have been a fight.”**
But as always, Roosevelt had the last word. Shortly before his death his publisher, Scribner’s, had collected some two dozen of his recent editorials, essays, and speeches. This collection had appeared in book form at the end of 1918 and got lost amid all the other material relating to the war just over and the peace not yet begun. Roosevelt’s death, however, drew fresh attention to the author, speaking now, as it were, from beyond the realm of partisanship or pedestrian ambition. The book’s most affecting passage was written with Quentin obviously in mind, but it served just as well as an epitaph for that valiant young man’s father-and as a final affirmation of the romantic creed.
“Only those are fit to live who do not fear to die,” Roosevelt declared. “And none are fit to die who have shrunk from the joy of life and the duty of life. Both life and death are parts of the same Great Adventure.” Everyone was called to the Great Adventure, each to serve in his or her own way. In time of war, some fought, while others watched and waited. Glory rewarded the former, often bitter sorrow-though tempered by pride-the latter. Yet each showed the path to a brighter and more glorious future:
“All of us who give service, and stand ready for sacrifice, are the torch-bearers. We run with the torches until we fall, content if we can pass them to the hands of other runners. The torches whose flame is brightest are borne by the gallant men at the front, and by the gallant women whose husbands and lovers, whose sons and brothers are at the front. These men are high of soul, as they face their fate on the shell-shattered earth, or in the skies above or in the waters beneath; and no less high of soul are the women with torn hearts and shining eyes; the girls whose boy-lovers have been struck down in their golden morning, and the mothers and wives to whom word has been brought that henceforth they must walk in the shadow. These are the torch-bearers; these are they who have dared the Great
Adventure.”
Source: T.R., The Last Romantic, pages 815-816
#FIN
There is a YouTube video for that
I love competition
“We have never had a President before who was destitute of self-respect & of respect for his high office; we have had no President before who was not a gentleman; we have had no President before who was intended for a butcher, a dive-keeper or a bully, & missed his mission by compulsion of circumstances over which he had no control
“Mr. Roosevelt is the Tom Sawyer of the political world of the twentieth century; always showing off; always hunting for a chance to show off; in his frenzied imagination the Great Republic is a vast Barnum circus with him for a clown and the whole world for audience; he would go to Halifax for half a chance to show off and he would go to hell for a whole one.
“He is hunting wild animals heroically in Africa, with the safeguard and advertising equipment of a park of artillery and a brass band. Our people have adored this showy charlatan as perhaps no impostor of his brood has been adored since the Golden Calf, so it is to be expected that the Nation will want him back again after he is done hunting other wild animals heroically in Africa, with the safeguard and advertising equipment of a park of artillery and a brass band.”
*-Mark Twain*
If you’ve read Mort, Reaper Man or Thief of Time, you know it would’ve been a good fight.
I’ve loved your recap of teddy roosevelt through this book man. Who will you do next????
Death: Stan Down, Final Wanting.
Teddy: I can Do this All Day.
Teddy truly was the Chuck Norris of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.