DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68288#0247
SAINT-GAUDENS AND OTHERS i97
ally, the President, and the man who was in everybody’s
thoughts at the time. Later, when he was introduced to
us by his sister, we all stood in a group and talked — there
were not more than twenty people in the two rooms — and
Margaret has never forgotten the responsive, almost eager,
manner with which he greeted her, and made her feel that
he was so glad that she had come in, and that he had had
this chance to talk to her.
‘Where’s French?’ he asked. I explained that Mr.
French seldom went anywhere after he had finished work
in the late afternoon, and then I said, laughing, ‘Of course
he had no idea, Mr. President, that you would be here.’
After a moment, Mr. Roosevelt referred to it again.
‘French ought to have come,’ he said. ‘You ought to
have brought him.’ And I explained again that Mr.
French’s work, climbing on stepladders and handling clay,
was frequently tiresome. ‘Well,’ he said, laughing, ‘he
has a good defender, anyhow.’ Suddenly he showed his
teeth, and spoke in his usual fierce way: ‘Does he know
that you defend him like that? Does he make you do it?
My wife wouldn’t defend me. How does he do it? Does he
beat you?’ I always remember it. He was half laughing
and yet fierce in his interest.
Also, of course, I lived through the terrible abuse of
Roosevelt. As I look back on my life, I feel as if I had al-
ways been listening to either the abuse or the deification of
some President or another, or some one great man. At
one time it was so prevalent, especially among the people
whom we knew in New York, that it was really trying to
dine at a great many houses.
Sometimes Mr. French would say to me going home in
the carriage: ‘Really, it’s almost embarrassing after dinner
ally, the President, and the man who was in everybody’s
thoughts at the time. Later, when he was introduced to
us by his sister, we all stood in a group and talked — there
were not more than twenty people in the two rooms — and
Margaret has never forgotten the responsive, almost eager,
manner with which he greeted her, and made her feel that
he was so glad that she had come in, and that he had had
this chance to talk to her.
‘Where’s French?’ he asked. I explained that Mr.
French seldom went anywhere after he had finished work
in the late afternoon, and then I said, laughing, ‘Of course
he had no idea, Mr. President, that you would be here.’
After a moment, Mr. Roosevelt referred to it again.
‘French ought to have come,’ he said. ‘You ought to
have brought him.’ And I explained again that Mr.
French’s work, climbing on stepladders and handling clay,
was frequently tiresome. ‘Well,’ he said, laughing, ‘he
has a good defender, anyhow.’ Suddenly he showed his
teeth, and spoke in his usual fierce way: ‘Does he know
that you defend him like that? Does he make you do it?
My wife wouldn’t defend me. How does he do it? Does he
beat you?’ I always remember it. He was half laughing
and yet fierce in his interest.
Also, of course, I lived through the terrible abuse of
Roosevelt. As I look back on my life, I feel as if I had al-
ways been listening to either the abuse or the deification of
some President or another, or some one great man. At
one time it was so prevalent, especially among the people
whom we knew in New York, that it was really trying to
dine at a great many houses.
Sometimes Mr. French would say to me going home in
the carriage: ‘Really, it’s almost embarrassing after dinner