Alice Roosevelt’s marriage, like that of Nellie Grant, was an event of national and international importance. The tenth White House bride, with her youth and unusual popularity, and the enormous prestige of her parents, drew the attention of the reading world. Gifts poured in hourly, and congratulations and expressions of good wishes came from thousands of her own countrymen, and from all over the world, from crowned heads, rulers of nations, and celebrities of every description.
Preparations for the wedding were most elaborate, every detail of which was planned by the young lady, the least perturbed of anyone concerned. Indeed, her serenity and casual acceptance of all of the excitement as part of the day’s work was a source of amazement to her girl friends. Easter lilies, pink and white rhododendrons, American Beauties, and bride roses in large vases, massed in great bowls, with palms, ferns, and festoons and garlands of smilax, transformed the lower floors of the White House into a beautiful bridal setting. A broad raised dais, with an improvised altar, was placed in front of the windows looking toward the Treasury Department.
Preceded by the ushers and the group of military aides in uniform at high noon, she entered on the arm of her father to the strains of “Lohengrin” played by the Marine Band. At the end of the ribboned aisle, Mr. Longworth stepped forward and led her to the altar, where Bishop Satterlee united them according to the service of the Episcopal Church in the presence of five hundred guests.
The bride wore a gown of white satin woven especially for the occasion, and trimmed with rare ancestral lace, with a train five yards long. The veil of silk tulle, which enveloped her slight figure in a misty cloud of white, that reached to the edge of the gown and was held in place by a wreath of orange blossoms. She wore a diamond brooch, which was a gift from her father, and a diamond necklace, the gift of the groom.
The wedding breakfast was served in both private and state dining rooms, the bridal party being served in the former, where, with characteristic family impetuosity, the new Mrs. Longworth borrowed Major McCawley’s sword to cut her cake, finding the knife provided inadequate.
Shortly afterward, the bridal couple left the house by the South Portico in an automobile and proceeded to “Friendship,” the suburban residence of John R. McLean, from where they started on their honeymoon.
Ten thousand people attended the reception. The value of the gifts represented a magnificent fortune. The accumulation filled several rooms of the White House and spilled out into the corridors, and included everything, such as most exquisite jewels, silver, art objects, massive furniture, household linen, kitchen equipment, someone facetiously including a laundry outfit and an assortment of live pets. What in the world the girl bride would do with such an embarrassment of riches was the popular, but unanswered, query.
Ethel’s dêbut on December 28, 1908, when she was seventeen, was an event to be remembered through life by all of the great host of young people who attended. President and Mrs. Roosevelt had kept their younger daughter’s activities confined to simple amusements until her school life was finished. In the coming-out party they made every possible effort for her pleasure. It has been called the grandest Christmas Party since the Civil War. The entire suite of state apartments was thrown open, and the hundreds of guest tripped up the grand stairway into the lobby, where the portraits of Presidents gazed across banks of Christmas greens and rows of huge vases holding whole trees of holly.
Like a fairy princess, the flaxen-haired dêbutante in her first ball gown—a lovely creation of white satin studded with crystals—stood beside her mother in the Blue Parlour, amid wagonloads of flowers sent by friends from far and near. The Marine Band, in scarlet coats, played merrily at the front end of the East Boom, in which great apartment of many memories the dazzling young diplomats in court dress, and young army and navy officers in full uniform, tripped the light fantastic with the débutantes of the season. At midnight, supper was served at little tables scattered through the corridor and dining rooms.
Two nights later, Miss Ethel was the guest of honour at a Christmas ball given by Mrs. Levi Leiter in the white and gold ballroom of her million-dollar palace. Here the two hundred and fifty young guests danced beneath scores of gold baskets filled with begonias and hung from pink satin ribbons, while the great mirrors on the wall reflected their forms as they glided across the floor to the music that sifted through a great screen of smilax and pink blossoms.