country.  Have you forgotten the personal history of George Washington?  Do you not know that he struggled as poor boys now struggle for a meager and imperfect education; that he worked at his surveyor’s tasks in the lonely forests; that he knew all the roughness, all the hardships, all the adventure, all the variety of the common life of that day; and that if he stood a little stiffly in this place, if he looked a little aloof, it was because life had dealt hardly with him?  All his sinews had been stiffened by the rough work of making America.  He was a man of the people, whose touch had been with them since the day he saw the light first in the old Dominion of Virginia.  And the men who came after him, men, some of whom had drunk deep at the sources of philosophy and of study, were, nevertheless, also men who on this side of the water knew no complicated life but the simple life of primitive neighborhoods.  Our task is very much more difficult.  That sympathy which alone interprets public duty is more difficult for a public man to acquire now than it was then, because we live in the midst of circumstances and conditions infinitely complex.

No man can boast that he understands America.  No man can boast that he has lived the life of America, as almost every man who sat in this hall in those days could boast.  No man can pretend that except by common counsel he can gather into his consciousness what the varied life of this people is.  The duty that we have to keep open eyes and open hearts and accessible understandings is a very much more difficult duty to perform than it was in their day.  Yet how much more important that it should be performed, for fear we make infinite and irreparable blunders.  The city of Washington is in some respects self-contained, and it is easy there to forget what the rest of the United States is thinking about.  I count it a fortunate circumstance that almost all the windows of the White House and its offices open upon unoccupied spaces that stretch to the banks of the Potomac and then out into Virginia and on to the heavens themselves, and that as I sit there I can constantly forget Washington and remember the United States.  Not that I would intimate that all of the United States lies south of Washington, but there is a serious thing back of my thought.  If you think too much about being reelected, it is very difficult to be worth reelecting.  You are so apt to forget that the comparatively small number of persons, numerous as they seem to be when they swarm, who come to Washington to ask for things, do not constitute an important proportion of the population of the country, that it is constantly necessary to come away from Washington and renew one’s contact with the people who do not swarm there, who do not ask for anything, but who do trust you without their personal counsel to do your duty.  Unless a man gets these contacts he grows weaker and weaker.  He needs them as Hercules needed the touch of mother earth.  If you lift him up too high or he lifts himself too high, he loses the contact and therefore loses the inspiration.