The winter of 1906–7 was too busy to remember as anything except a sort of hazy nightmare lightened in spots by contemplation of the delightful possibilities contained in a rapidly growing Presidential “boom,” but it came to an end, and early in the summer I gathered up my family and a few necessary belongings and went to Murray Bay. We were to leave some time in August for the Philippines and the trip around the world via the Trans-Siberian Railway, and I wanted very much to have my husband get away for a few weeks of absolute detachment from public affairs, feeling sure that it would be his last opportunity for rest and relaxation for many a day. But no man can be a candidate for President of the United States and indulge at the same time in even a short period of complete tranquillity.
Before Mr. Taft joined me he, in deference to the wishes of the men who were conducting his “boom,” made another speechmaking trip through the West on the method so aptly described as “whirlwind,” and did not arrive in Murray Bay until the first week in July.
It just occurs to me that I have covered all these different periods of our lives without even mentioning Murray Bay, although a large part of the Taft family has been spending the summers there for twenty years or more. We went there before the place became in any sense “fashionable,” when the only kind of hotel accommodation was in quaint old inns of the real French-Canadian type in which no English was spoken, but where service of such delightfully simple and satisfactory quality as can no longer be obtained was smilingly offered at rates which would now be considered absurdly low. After our first year in 1892 we always had a cottage—and on going to Murray Bay we prepared to enjoy ourselves in the luxury of complete simplicity.
The cottage which we have occupied for a number of years is perched on a rocky headland overlooking the sixteen miles wide stretch of the St. Lawrence river and almost entirely hidden in a dense grove of fragrant pine trees. It is roomy and comfortable, but simple as a camp in the woods, being finished in unpainted pine and furnished with only such things as may be locked up and left year in and year out. There is nothing to tempt any possible robber, the only distinctive things in the house being some Philippine curios, wall decorations and floor mats, called “petates,” which we have brought with us at different times from Manila.
Mr. Taft stayed at Murray Bay about five weeks, but during that time our cottage in the woods was the United States War Department and headquarters of a very probable Presidential candidate. Then, too, Mr. Taft was beset with the nagging necessity for preparing speeches which were really to launch his campaign for the nomination before he left for the trip around the world. The campaign in Ohio became centred and active during the summer, with Mr. Taft far in the lead among possible candidates, and all over the country organisations were forming which demanded wholehearted and unremitting attention.
The busy man wrote to Mr. Roosevelt: “I am enjoying my vacation,” but his vacation consisted in a release from constant social formalities and a daily round of golf on the links of the Murray Bay Club which he liked so much and over which he had played for so many years—nothing more.
Early in August he left for Washington with the understanding that I should complete arrangements, and taking Charlie with me, should meet him at the entrance of Yellowstone Park at the end of the month. In the meantime he had one more long speechmaking trip to begin at Columbus on the 19th of August and to take him through Ohio, Kentucky, Missouri, Oklahoma and to Denver.
His mother, to whom the whole family was strongly devoted, was at this time very ill. It did not seem possible that she could be with us for long, and all of her sons wished sincerely to be able to remain near her. One of them, Horace, was able to do so, but when my husband declared to her his desire to give up the trip to the Philippines and stay in the United States until she recovered she said to him:
“No Taft, to my knowledge, has ever yet neglected a public duty for the sake of gratifying a private desire. You promised the Filipinos that you would be present at the opening of their first Assembly, and if you should break that promise and neglect your plain duty on my account, it would give me no pleasure.”
This was the last serious thing she ever said to him, and it gave him great comfort throughout the long trip as the reports of her failing strength came to him. He never saw her again.
With my son Charlie, who was then nearly ten years old, I met my husband and his party at Livingston Junction, on the Northern Pacific Railroad in Montana, and we proceeded together to Gardiner at the entrance to Yellowstone Park. There we were met by General Young, the Superintendent of the Park, and Colonel Henry T. Allen, and by the head of the Park transportation company and began at once a wonderful three days’ trip, which included, among other things, the business of inspecting the Army post with the purpose of making recommendations for changes in the Park patrolling system.
As our time was very short
