The rise of Theodore Roosevelt - Edmund Morris [63]
Unfortunately she did not, although she continued, rather heartlessly, to flirt and tease. He returned to Harvard in a melancholy mood. Four days later Alice “came out” in the traditional shower of rosebuds, and Boston’s eligible youth began to circle ominously around her. Theodore was a guest at the party, and in the days following could no longer conceal his violent frustration. “See that girl?” he exclaimed at a Hasty Pudding function, pointing across the room at Alice: “I am going to marry her. She won’t have me, but I am going to have her!”77
As winter settled in, and the long evenings dragged out, Theodore felt the loneliness of unrequited love weigh heavily upon him. Unable to find solace in reading books, he began to write one, entitled The Naval War of 1812.78 His insomnia worsened to the point that for night after night he did not even go to bed. He wandered endlessly through the frozen woods around Cambridge, declaiming Swinburne.79 After one such excursion he refused to return to his rooms. Seriously alarmed, a classmate telegraphed Theodore’s family for assistance. Fortunately James West Roosevelt was staying nearby, and rushed to the aid of his stricken cousin. Somehow, the distraught lover was soothed.80
He did not see Alice at all during the two weeks prior to his Christmas vacation. Returning to New York on 22 December he threw himself determinedly into the usual family festivities. On Christmas Eve he called on at least ten “very pretty girls,” as if to erase from his mind the picture of his beloved. Edith Carow was among them. “She is the most cultivated, best-read girl I know.”81
All at once, on the day after Christmas, the word “Alice” joyously reappears in his diary. That young coquette had decided to visit New York for a week, accompanied by a retinue of “Chestnut Hillers.” Graciously accepting Theodore’s invitation to stay, she permitted him to squire her around town, and his delight knew no bounds. They had “an uproariously jolly time,” he told his diary, adding in a more reflective moment that her presence at 6 West Fifty-seventh Street seemed “so natural.”82
New Year’s Day, 1880, dawned calm and sunny, matching Theodore’s mood. He drove his guests out to Jerome Park for lunch and an afternoon of dancing.83 Alice bobbed and swayed enchantingly in his arms, and he sensed that his long agony would soon be over.
Sun., Jan. 25 At last everything is settled; but it seems impossible to realize it. I am so happy that I dare not trust in my own happiness. I drove over to the Lees determined to make an end of things at last; it was nearly eight months since I had first proposed to her, and I had been nearly crazy during the past year; and after much pleading my own sweet, pretty darling consented to be my wife. Oh, how bewitchingly pretty she looked! If loving her with my whole heart and soul can make her happy, she shall be happy; a year ago last Thanksgiving I made a vow that win her I would if it were possible; and now that I have done so, the aim of my whole life shall be to make her happy, and to shield her and guard her from every trial; and, oh, how I shall cherish my sweet queen! How she, so pure and sweet and beautiful can think of marrying me I can not understand, but I praise and thank God it is so.84
The engagement was kept secret pending family approval. For several days Theodore could not believe his luck. “I still feel as if it would turn out, as it so often has before, and that Alice will repent.” But she did not. Now that her defenses were down, he could kiss and cuddle her as often as he wished.85 In a daze of delight, he rushed to New York to break the news to his family. Mittie Roosevelt was stunned, but, thanks to her prior exposure to Alice, wholly satisfied. The girl had beauty, grace, and humor—qualities for which she herself had been famed in her time. As for Theodore, Mittie had long since recognized that he, not Elliott, was his father’s son: decisive and masterful,