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Edith Kermit Carow grew up in New York City in the same circles

as did Theodore Roosevelt. But only after TR's first wife died at

age twenty-two did the childhood friends f***e one of the most

successful romantic and political partnerships in American history.

Sylvia Jukes Morris's access to previously unpublished letters and

diaries brings to full life her portrait of the Roosevelts and

their times. During her years as First Lady (1901-09), Edith Kermit

Roosevelt dazzled social and political Washington as hostess,

confidante, and mother of six, leading her husband to remark, "Mrs.

Roosevelt comes a good deal nearer my ideal than I do myself."

Introduction

Childhood: 1861-1872

Youth: 1872-1886

Marriage afid Motherhood: 1886-1901

First Lady: 1901-1909

Mistress of Sagamore Hill: 1909-1919

Early Widowhood: 1919-1927

Old Age: 1927-1948

Acknowledgments

Bibliography

Notes

Illustration Credits

Index

Sylvia Jukes Morris is the author of Rage

for Fame: The Ascent of Clare Boothe Luce. She lives with her

husband, Edmund Morris, in New York City and Washington, D.C.

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Chapter Two

Grave Alice, and laughing

Allegra

And Edith with golden hair . . .

-Longfellow

A thick veil descends on Carow family history after the closing of

the Tyler home. Were it not for a few glimpses culled from Edith?s

association with the Roosevelts, and from the nostalgia of her old

age, little could be told. She was to become an avid collector of

information concerning her early ancestors, but throughout her life

she compulsively destroyed data on her more immediate family,

especially Charles Carow. ?Mother . . . never told us stories about

her childhood at all,? complained her future stepdaughter.

The reason why Edith did not reminisce was ***: the subject

pained her. Despite her taciturnity, a few facts are certain.

First, Charles was a failure in business; second, he was an

alcoholic; third, he fell down the hold of one of his ships, hit

his head, and was never quite stable afterward; fourth, Gertrude

became increasingly hypochondriac; and, fifth, the family standard

of living went into decline.

At first, however, this decline was barely perceptible. During the

war years, at least, life for the Carows went normally. On April

18, 1865, Gertrude?s last child, Emily, was born and was placed,

along inside of a wall where the snow ceased and it was quite warm.

We then went on until we came to a small *** through which we saw

a red flame inside the mountain. I put my alpine stock in and it

caught fire right away. The smoke nearly suffacated us. We then

went on and saw a larger *** through which I could fall if I

liked. We put some pebbles down and they came up with pretty good

force. We here sat down to lunch. We ate some of the eggs boiled in

Vesuvius sand. Ellie and I played with some soildiers and then we

began the decent. This was on the opposite side of the mountain. I

was the last, then Mama with Papa on one and a guide on the other

side of her and then the rest. We went down the side in loose dirt

in which I sunk up to my knees.

The decent was verry steep. Mama was so exausted she could hardly

walk. When we got to the bottom we mounted our horses and went

along a miserable road. There were places where the men who were on

foot could hardly walk so it was verry hard for the horses.

We then drove to the ***el. But now goodby

Evere your loving friend,

T. Roosevelt

While Teedie went on to Rome and Florence, Edith began to feel

lonely. She was glad not to be spending the winter in the city, she

told Conie, ?for I shall miss you much and if I stay here I can

play with a beautiful sled that Uncle Guss gave me . . .?

With the Roosevelts away the nursery classes had been abandoned,

and there was some talk of sending Edith to school. But her

enrollment was postponed, purportedly because ?Mammma thinks my

eyes are not very strong.? In a complaint common to bookish

children, Edith added: ?She and Mame whenever they see a book in my

hands give me no peace till I lay it down.?

Every week, however, she attended classes at Mr. Dodsworth?s famous

school for dancing and deportment, at the corner of Twenty-sixth

Street and Fifth Avenue. The strict old dancing master and his wife

taught succeeding generati*** of New Yorkers not only how to waltz

and polka on the wide slippery floor, but also how to conduct

themselves in society. A later pupil remembered them both

vividly.

Mr. Dodsworth was the impersonation of elegance and etiquette,

coupled with a stinging sarcasm and discipline. We left our coats

and little fur-lined shoes in the room downstairs. We then shook

hands and curtsied to Mrs. Dodsworth, whose hair had the stiffest

ondulé, whose voice had the most liquid modulation, and whose

person was sheathed in a dress covered with spangles or embroidered

with pearls, or poured into a creation of cloth of gold. She sat at

a painted Louis XV desk with a register to mark our attendance

which she did with a fine pen and holding her little finger

slightly extended while she wrote. Mr. and Mrs. Dodsworth were the

visible expression of all that it meant to be a lady and a

gentleman in those days.

When the Roosevelts returned in the spring of 1870, they joined

Edith at the dancing school, and quickly became the nucleus of an

exclusive group. Fanny Smith was a member. ?There was no fear of

being a wallflower because we had . . . special badges and pledged

either definitely or otherwise only to dance with one

another.?

Years later, an outsider reminded Edith that ?for every dance there

was a scramble on the part of four Roosevelts, ?Teddy,? Elliott,

Alfred and Emlen to secure you for a partner.? Apparently Theodore

usually triumphed, because Edith saved the dance programs ?on which

his name was written oftener than any other boy?s.?

Gradually, over the next two decades, old established Oelrichs and

Stevenses and newly arrived Fricks and Carnegies began to settle

side by side in Fifth Avenue mansi*** which edged out the scattered

shanties that had long bordered Central Park. Wealth, not breeding,

now determined where people might live. The Roosevelts were able to

follow the prosperous migration north; but othe***ell-bred

Knickerbockers who, like the Carows, had fallen on hard times were

forced to choose less exalted neighborhoods.

In 1870 New York?s population, having almost tripled in thirty

years, approached a million. Yet expansion was still entirely

la***l. Skysc***rs did not exist, and Trinity Church spire

remained the only vertical thrust of any stature. Large tracts

along Fifth Avenue and Broadway c***isted of empty lots, while

Madison Avenue ended abruptly at Forty-second Street. Harlem was a

small country town, and the riverside between West Seventieth and

West 110th Streets was nothing more than a village.

Carriages, stagecoaches and four railroads running at street level

created tremendous noise and smoke in midtown. Ill-paved roads

littered with horse manure, and slimy gutters scavenged by pigs

were breeding grounds for malaria and typhoid. Barefoot street

urchins huddled in doorways and over gratings fo***armth.

Sanitation hardly existed in rat-ridden tenements; an average of

seventy-eight people shared each slum privy. When c***ra struck,

as it frequently did, medical help was scarce. The infant-mortality

rate was thirty percent, and life expectancy averaged only forty

years.

Crime ?was never so bold, so frequent, and so safe,? according to

the diarist Ge***e Templeton Strong. ?We breathe an atmosphere of

highway robbery, burglary and murder. Few criminals are caught and

fewer punished . . . We must soon fall back on the law of

self-preservation.?

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编辑推荐

Marvelously full-blooded, engagingly written.

--Newsweek

"An endlessly engrossing book, at once of historical and human

importance... Morris's indefatigably busy camera catches everything

that is catchable. The result is a narrative that one will want to

return to and mull over, c***cious of the hundred and one details

that might have been missed the first time around, and with a

reader's *** to speculate that Morris admirably denies

herself."

--R.W.B. Lewis, The Washington Post

"Morris excels at putting Edith in her place in charge of the First

Family at a heady time in American history."

--Newsweek

"A splendid biography... One reads on, intrigued by the character

that emerges."

--Chicago Sun-Times

"This biography represents craftsmanship of the highest

order."

--The Christian Science Monitor

"A story as fascinating and well-written as a novel."

--Worcester Telegram

"A superb life story enchantingly told."

--Richmond Times-Dispatch

"A warmly vivid account of a refined, intelligent, and gracious

lady and a contribution to the history of an era."

--David H. Burton, St. Joseph's University -- Review

书籍介绍

Edith Kermit Carow grew up in New York City in the same circles as did Theodore Roosevelt. But only after TR's first wife died at age twenty-two did the childhood friends f***e one of the most successful romantic and political partnerships in American history. Sylvia Jukes Morris's access to previously unpublished letters and diaries brings to full life her portrait of the Roosevelts and their times. During her years as First Lady (1901-09), Edith Kermit Roosevelt dazzled social and political Washington as hostess, confidante, and mother of six, leading her husband to remark, "Mrs. Roosevelt comes a good deal nearer my ideal than I do myself."