Crowding Memories

Mrs. Aldrich met Aldrich at Booth's rooms in the fall of 1862 (1). After seeing Booth act for the first time in "Hamlet," the future Mrs. Aldrich said to her sister: "The turning point has come to my life. That young actor will control my destiny" (2). Shortly after this declaration, Mrs. Aldrich's family was placed in hotel apartments next door to Edwin Booth and his young bride (2). The Booths were not seen for some time, however, one day when she snuck away from her lessons to eat lunch, she was seated with the couple. Mrs. Aldrich writes: "It is most difficult to give any idea of Mr. Booth's personality at this time. His fine bearing and natural grace, the magic charm of face and figure, the melodious voice and the ever-changing expression of his eyes!" Of his wife, she writes: "The one who was to be loved the most sat by him. Slight in figure, but with lovely lines; honest, straightforward eyes, brown and tender; years that counted nineteen; an ineffable grace that made even strangers love her." The lunch was interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Aldrich's greyhound in the lunchroom - much to her embarassment. Booth, however, remained aloof and unphased by the commotion (3-5). The "accidental meeting" led to an acquaintance among all the parties and Mrs. Aldrich's later introduction to her future husband (5).

The first time the Booths called on the young, future Mrs. Aldrich, she describes the actor as follows: "Mr. Booth, then twenty-seven years old, was in the height of his splendor. The early part of his life had much of harshness and vicissitude, which with an inherited temperment had stamped his pale and mobile face with a deep expression of melancholy. The strange magnetic quality of his nature was almost perceptible to the touch. No one could come into his presence without, consciously or unconsciously, coming under his influence. He inspired an admiration that no word can adequately describe. When he walked the streets people stopped to gaze at him. When he played, the stage door on the street was blocked with both men and women who waited for one more glimpse of him as he stepped to his carriage. Of this luminous atmosphere in which he walked he seemed unconscious; or brushed it aside as something disconnected with himself, belonging solely to the trappings and paraphenalia of the stage...It was not decreed that Mr. Booth in his life of gloom and glory should know much of happiness" (6-7). According to Mrs. Aldrich, the Booths were quite happy to remain isolated from the social world and would often only visit with Mrs. Aldrich and her sister (7). Mrs. Aldrich only recalls the two accepting an invitation from the Century Club, at which event the discussion of Hamlet's sanity was debated (9).

After returning from London and the birth of their daughter, Edwina, the Booths were called upon by the Stoddards. In an unexpected decision, Edwin Booth invited them into his rooms because they shared a mutual friend in Lorimer Graham (12-13). According to Mrs. Aldrich, the presence of the Stoddards brought the "connecting link" to her fate (13). A few days later, the Booths were invited to visit with the Stoddards at their home on Tenth Street and to meet the members of their literary and artistic circle (14). It is through the recounting of this event by the Booths to the young Mrs. Aldrich and her sister that they first hear of Thomas Bailey Aldrich (16-18). Shortly after, the Booths hosted this group at their rooms, where the young Mrs. Aldrich was also invited. She remarks that it was odd to see Booth in the role of the cheerful host, and, although there was much drinking and toasting, Booth's glass remained empty throughout the evening. It was through this event and the Booths that the two young women were introduced to the literary and artistic circles of New York (19-22).

During Booth's New York engagements, Aldrich and Launt Thompson were often in his booth at the theater. After shows there were usually small suppers in his dressing rooms with his friends; Mrs. Aldrich here makes her first allusion to Booth's drinking (25).

For Booth's theatrical engagement beginning February 9, 1863, Mrs. Booth was unable to accompany him to New York and asked his friends to look after her husband. Aldrich and Thompson "were the two nights that threw the glove and entered the field" to look after their friend, who often came up with ways to elude his chaperones. Each man took turns keeping Booth under constant supervision, claiming devotion and the enjoyment of their friend's company. As Mrs. Aldrich puts it, "only once for a moment was the mask lifted," when Booth attempted to get Alrich away from his dressing room, suggesting other things he could do in the theater. During this conversaion, a messenger boy arrived with a "suspicious-looking beverage" on a tray. Booth reached for it, but Aldrich was quicker and poured the contents of the glass out the window. The two men did not speak for the rest of the evening and spent the night walking the city until Booth and Aldrich finally tired and returned to his hotel. Mrs. Aldrich reports that this same tactic was used by the elder Booth on Edwin when he wanted to be left alone. The next day, Booth was back to normal and the men did not speak of the event (29-33). It is during this separation that Mrs. Booth's condition worsened into a serious illness. Despite letters that masked the seriousness of her condition, she remained unwell enough to travel (34). Mrs. Stoddard wrote Mrs. Booth a letter stating: "Sick or well, you must come. Mr. Booth has lost all restraint and hold on himself. Last night there was the grave question of ringing down the curtain before before the performance was half over. Lose no time. Come." Mrs. Booth wrote back: "I cannot come. I cannot stand. I think sometimes that only a great calamity can save my dear husband. I am going to try to write him now, and God give me grace to write as a true wife should." After Mrs. Booth's death, Edwin Booth found Mrs. Stoddard's note and the discovery of its content led to a permanent rift between the two (35). The evening after writing this letter, Mrs. Booth's condition worsened and she passed away. Booth was, "on this sombre night, when happiness died" for him "playing fitfully, and only half himself" (36) later that evening, while being guarded by Stoddard, he recieved a telegram, the fourth notice, that he must attend to his wife immediately. Stoddard and Booth set out the next day for Boston, where Mrs. Booth had already passed away (37-38). Mrs Aldrich writes: "For the weeks following the death of his wife Mr. Booth was on the narrow line between sanity and insanity; a strange delerium held him in its clutch. Much of the time he was as Hamlet -- with the 'antic disposition' of variable moods, black despair, hysterical laughter, and tears" (42).

Booth returned to New York two months after his wife's death with his daughter. For the 1864-1865 season, he was scheduled to perform at the Winter Garden Theatre, of which he had also become a part proprietor (60). Mrs. Aldrich writes that during that season Booth's sorrow over the loss of his wife was so fresh that he did not need any makeup to portray Hamlet (61).

March 20, 1865, Booth finished his hundredth night as Hamlet at the Winter Garden Theatre. March 24, 1865, Booth began an engagement in Boston "beginning with great brilliancy and ending in such grim tragedy." The last week of the engagement the surrender of Lee's army occured (61). Booth was playing in "The Iron Chest" in Boston the night of Lincoln's assassination (65). Booth's performance that evening had been a tremendous success; Booth was awoken by a servant with the news his brother had shot the President the next morning (70-71). Booth traveled to New York the next day to be with his mother (73).

After Lincoln's assassination, Aldrich was one of a group of friends who waited at Booth's New York home for his arrival. "In the sad days following this home-coming, Mr. Aldrich was Mr. Booth's constant companion, a vigil that was not without threatening danger, as daily letters, notes, and messages came to the house addressed to Mr. Booth warning him that the name of Booth should be exterminated. None should bear it and live. 'Bullets were marked for him and his household.' 'His house would be burnt.' Cries for justice and vengeance, and every other indignity that hot indignation and wrathful words could ignite" (73-74).

Booth was sent for by the government for the trial of the conspirators; he was not called upon to testify, although he was present. Years later, after the war, the government sent word as to where his brother had been buried and gave him the right to reinternment (82-83).

In 1885, Booth established a club for actors, which Aldrich named the Players' Club. Booth donated the house he owned, 29 Chestnut Street, Boston, to the Club, and "In giving the Club to the Actors, Mr. Booth had made a home for the homeless and ever-travelling profession" (263-264).

Mrs. Aldrich mentions a portrait of Edwin Booth done by Sargent and reprints a verse written about the work on p. 267.

Mrs. Aldrich also writes that "Mr. Booth's professional life closed as it had begun, by chance," giving his last performance in "Hamlet" in Brooklyn (267). Booth was called to the stage for several encores, but never had an official last performance; "litte by little he had relaxed his grasp upon the stage" (268). Booth died at the age of sixty in his rooms on the third floor of the Players' Club, where he spent the last few years of his life. Booth suffered a small stroke two years before his death, and after this event his health gradually declined. Booth had a second stroke in April 1893, and from that point he rapidly declined, dying shortly after midnight on June 7. Mrs. Aldrich writes: "On the night Edwin Booth was born there was a great shower of meteors. At the hour when he lay dying, all the electric lights in the Players' Club grew dim and went out" (268).

Mrs. Aldrich prints here lines written on Booth's death:

June 7, 1893
In narrow space with Booth, lie housed in death,
Iago, Hamlet, Shylock, Lear, Macbeth.
If still they seem to walk the painted scene
'T is but the ghosts of those that once have been. (269).

Clemens, Aldrich, Curtis, and Howells were among the speakers at the "Authors' Reading" done by the friends of Longfellow for the Longfellow Memorial Fund (256). At this event, Curtis read from the "Potiphar Papers" (258).

Howells established a friendship with Aldrich after Aldrich assumed the editorial position at "Every Saturday." Howells was the assitant editor of the "Atlantic Monthly" at that time (87). Mrs. Aldrich quotes Mr. Howells's account of their first meeting from his "Literary Friends and Acquaintance" p. 87-88. During their early days in Boston, after gaining acceptance into the notoriously selective and exclusive Boston society, the Aldriches and Howellses were often invited to dinners to meet each other; these invitations arrived "until the recipients of these attentions with hysterical laughter and almost tears confessed the relief it would be to go somewhere -- anywhere, where they would never hear of see each other again" (91).

Howells was still the assistant editor of the "Atlantic Monthly" when Bret Harte made his first visit to Boston as Howells's guest. Mrs. Aldrich quotes Howells's account of the visit in "Literary Friends and Acquaintance p.133-135 (133-135).

Howells was also among the company gathered at the Clemens' house during the merry visit Mrs. Aldrich discusses (143). Of the company of Howells, Clemens, Aldrich and Charles Dudley Warner at dinner at the Warner's on the night of their arrival, Mrs. Aldrich claims "never can there be such talk as scintillated about the table that night" and that the men "made a quartette that was incomparable" (145). When the group returned to the Clemens house, the converation continued long into the night. Before it was decided that everyone should go to bed, "Mr. Howells, with eyes suffused with tears, had pleaded with Mrs. Aldrich to use her influence to make Mr. Aldrich abstain from any more provocative speech. Mr. Howells said he could not bear it any longer, he was ill with laughter, and that for friendship's sake Aldrich must be muffled and checked. Let the others talk, but beg him to keep still" (146).

Clemens, Aldrich, Curtis, and Howells were among the speakers at the "Authors' Reading" done by the friends of Longfellow for the Longfellow Memorial Fund (256). At this event, Howells read extracts from "Their Wedding Journey" (262).

Osgood was among the company when the Aldriches and Howells visited the Clemenses in Hartford (143).

Mrs. Aldrich mentions that the first visit of the Stoddards to the Booths brought the "connecting link" to her fate. The Stoddards and the Booths had a mutual friend in Lorimer Graham. The momentary awkwardness of Stoddards arrival was resolved when Edwin Booth and Elizabeth Stoddard introduced themselves. Mrs. Aldrich writes: "Every detail of that hour is distinct. The opening door; on its threshold a woman of angular slimness, perhaps forty-three or forty-four years old. She wore a dull brown dress, with an arabesque of white in a minute pattern woven through the warp. The expression of face and figure was withered like a brown leaf on the tree before the snow comes. No aura of charm whatever. There was a moment of silence; then Mr. Booth with outstretched arms moved quickly toward her, and in his hands her hands were laid. There were but two words spoken, 'Edwin,' 'Elizabeth.' Then Mr. Booth, releasing her hand, slowly untied the strings of the bonnet that shaded her face, took it off, and still holding it in his hand drew her to a chair" (13).

Mrs. Aldrich continues with her description: "I know no prototype of Mrs. Stoddard -- this singular woman, who possessed so strongly the ability to sway all men who came within her influence. Brilliant and fascinating, she needed neither beauty nor youth, her power was so much beyond such aids. On every variety of subject she talked with originality and ready wit; with impassioned speech expressing an individuality and insight most unusual and rare" (14). The first meeting led the Booths to be invited to join the gathering of the artistic and literary circle that congregated at the Stoddards' home on Tenth Street (14). According to Mrs. Aldrich, the Stoddards', Pfaff's, and the Century Club were popular houses for the literary and artistic to meet, but the Stoddards' had an interesting, refined character. "It was rather a solemn thing to belong to it. The new member entered its (to him) inhospitable door with somewhat the same feelings that would have represented his complex mind had it been the portal of a church. The chantelaine of the Tenth Street house was an exceptional and interesting character. Her criticisms and discussion of current matters were admirable. She would rather run the risk of losing a boarder than forego the privilege of speaking her mind freely in regard to every issue of the day. She had also a keen sense of humor, and dearly loved a joke, bringing to it a laugh that was most contagious. Of the heterogeneous company of men and women that assembled daily at her table she numbered authors, actors, artists, musicians, mathematicians, professors, journalists, critics, and essayists. To Mrs. Stoddard alone, however, was the honor given of a salon. An invitation to her rooms on the evening she entertained was to this company what a ribbon is to a soldier, and prized accordingly" (15).

Among the company gathered at the Stoddards' the night of the Booth's first visit, they leave her among their caricatures for Mrs. Aldrich and her sister "too scintillating to be drawn" (17-18).

During Mrs. Booth's illness and Edwin Booth's separation from her while in New York for an acting engagement, Mrs. Stoddard wrote the following letter to Mrs. Booth:

"Sick or well, you must come. Mr. Booth has lost all restraint and hold on himself. Last night there was the grave question of ringing down the curtain before the performance was half over. Lose no time. Come."

Mrs. Booth replied that she was too ill to come and that she felt at times that nothing but a "great calamity" would save her husband. After Mrs. Booth's death, Edwin Booth found Mrs. Stoddard's "cruel letter" and ended their friendship (35).

In the "word pictures" drawn by the Booths for Mrs. Aldrich and her sister of the gathered company at the Stoddards', the description of the Taylors was as follows: "First for guests we had Mr. Bayard Taylor and his young German bride, wearing the simple black dress of the German frau; the lace cap, the insignia of the new dignity of wifehood, covering her sunny hair. Bayard's 'picture in little' was of a big, genial, lovable man, an immense favorite with all, full of good-fellowship, and bubbling over with gaiety and cheer" (17).

Taylor was one of the poets who wrote and read poems for the celebration of Bryant at the Century Club (59).

Mrs. Aldrich reprints the sonnet Taylor wrote to commemorate the Aldrichs' marriage p.86.

Mrs. Aldrich discusses Taylor seeing them off on the Abyssinia when the Aldriches went abroad and how he brought them his own cure for seasickness. Mrs. Aldrich notes that "Mr. Taylor's reputation as a traveler was great" (162-164).

Mrs. Aldrich writes that at the end of 1878, everyone "was much saddened" at the death of Bayard Taylor. She discusses how her husband wrote to Stedman in November 1878, "I have a presentiment he will never return." On December 20, 1878, Aldrich wrote again to Stedman: "I cannot speak or write about it. It gave me such a shock in the solitude here. It was at the supper-table last night. I was laughing as I unfolded the 'Tribune,' and then I read 'Bayard Taylor dead.' I shall be in New York all day on the 7th of January. We sail on the 8th on the Abyssinia, and I want a quiet half-hour's talk with you somewhere, if it can be arranged" (224).

Mrs. Aldrich prints a poem about Taylor, titled "Bayard Taylor" on p. 236.

Clemens and Aldrich began their "episolatory acquaintance" with "a very savage letter which Mark Twain had written to Mr. Aldrich, not as a comrade and fellow worker, but to the unscrupulous and unreliable editor of 'Every Saturday.'" Aldrich had taken some "rhymes" from another periodical (where they were credited to Mark Twain), printed them in "Every Saturday" and criticized them as being poor imitations of Bret Harte's "Heathen Chinee." Twain corrected the error and demanded a printed correction, which Alrich fulfilled (127).

After a year of "belligerent correspondence" between the two men, Aldrich and Clemens first met. Aldrich brought his new friend to his home for dinner. Mrs. Aldrich recounts her displeasure at her husband's dinner invitation to a seemingly intoxicated man; after an icy evening which included several attempts by Mr. Aldrich to warm up his wife's demeanor, the guest excused himself. After a bout of hysterics prompted by her husband's questions as to why she was so rude to their guest, Mrs. Aldrich found out that Mark Twain had been their intended dinner guest and that the behavior she mistook for intoxication was really his mannerisms and speech patterns. Twain did not learn of her mistake for several years (127-132).

Mark Twain worked with Bret Harte on the "Golden Era," where he became famous for his columns. "The 'Golden Era' was said to be the cradle and grave of many a high hope of budding genius" (139).

The Aldriches were invited to visit the Clemenses in Hartford, Conn. Other guests included Mr. Howells and Mr. Osgood (143). Of their first dinner during their visit, Mrs. Aldrich writes: "Never again can there be such talk as scintillated about the table that night," where Alrich, Howells, Clemens, and Charles Dudley Warner were gathered (at the Warner's home)(145). When they returned to the Clemens' house that evening, the group stayed up practically all night talking and laughing (146). The first morning they arrived, Twain reprimanded the Aldriches for walking too heavily and upsetting and worsening his wife's headache. The Aldriches moved around on tiptoe and found out later, at breakfast, that Twain had played a practical joke on them (147-148).

Mrs. Aldrich also writes of Mrs. Clemens' deep religious belief, and how "doctrines and creeds" would later become distant to the pair. She also recounts how the two met, and how Clemens had fallen for his wife after seeing a miniature of her in her brother's (Charles Langdon) room on the steamship Quaker City, in 1867 (149). He would meet her after the cruise, when he was invited to dine with the Langdon family in New York, at the St. Nicholas Hotel (151). After this meeting, he was invited to visit with the family whenever he was in New York; Clemens had many speaking engagements in New York and was able to visit quite often (154-155). When the Aldriches visited the Clemens's in Hartford, they had been married four years (156). Mrs. Aldrich recalls that Mrs. Clemens used to refer to her husband as "Youth! O, Youth!" (160).

According to Mrs. Aldrich, 1867 was also Clemens' first year of literary success and recognition on the East Coast, with "The Jumping Frog" seeing publication in several periodicals. While waiting in the shipping office of the Quaker City, Clemens overheard a clerk list his name with pride when asked what "notables" were on the ship (149-150).

Mrs. Aldrich provides a description of Clemens in these early days: "Mr. Clemens was at this time thirty-one or two years old; a sparely built man of medium height; a finely shaped, classical head, covered with thick, shaggy red-colored hair; a mustache of the same tawny hue; eyes which glimmered, keen and twinkling, under overhanging, bushy eyebrows, each hair of which ruffled itself, taking part with unwarrantable intrusion in Mr. Clemens's moods, were they grave or gay. Once, in my remembrance, so belligerant and fierce was their aspect, that his listener, who had the temerity to differ with the views he was expressing, begged the privilege of brushing the eyebrows down, that she might have courage to continue the argument" (150).

Mrs. Aldrich claims that Clemens's coarseness of manner was developed after his years on the Mississippi and in California: "With that sharp schooling he had become too well acquainted with the coarser types of human nature." She continues: "He was born with a marvellous gift of phrase, and his one-time friends could not resist the temptation of developing his profanity to an incomparable perfection. He said to a friend who remonstrated with him on the habit, 'In certain trying circumstances, desparate circumstances, urgent circumstances, profanity furnished a relief denied even to prayer'" (150-151).

Clemens, Aldrich, Curtis, and Howells were among the speakers at the "Authors' Reading" done by the friends of Longfellow for the Longfellow Memorial Fund (256). Twain spoke first and announced the title of his talk as "English as She is Taught" (257-258).