Edie by Jean Stein Read Free Book Online Page B

trip to California wI’ll live in Cambridge, Mass., while he continues his studies at the business school of Harvard.
    . . . As the bride and bridegroom left the chancel Mendelssohn’s wedding march was played on the organ by Ernest Mitchell, organist of Grace Church, and as they left the church the chimes were rung. For the recessional the choir sang “Rejoice the Lord Is King.”
    . . . During the service the choir sang “Oh Perfect Love.”
    My parents had a great deal in common. They both liked being outdoors—riding, swimming, playing tennis. They shared a certain scorn for social phoniness. They adored dogs and horses. They were both talented artistically. And on the other hand they had a shadow side in common—each had lost an idolized elder brother. Both had implacable grieving mothers and must have lived with a terrible sense of jeopardy.
    My mother must have seemed a strong, compassionate figure to my father, and her family offered the sense of security and power he was looking for. He was drawn, to my grandfather de Forest as a father figure—he was always looking for a powerful, rich, well-born person in the mainstream of things rather than a scholarly dreamer like his own father. My mother seemed to have everything—no wonder he fell in love with her. For her part she was painfully shy and must have felt secure marrying someone so dashing who would yet be totally dependent upon her and on her father. When my father proposed, she had no reservations about marrying him. My grandparents insisted on a medical opinion before giving their permission. But my mother’s commitment was—and remained—total.
    MINTCRN SEDGWICK  The de Forests were crazy about Francis. I mean, so it appeared. Francis claimed he overheard Mr. de Forest saying, “I hope young Sedgwick wins the race.” Anyway, they were engaged. Francis came back from England and I met him at the dock. He looked the picture of health, but suddenly he said, “Gubby”—that’s what he called me—”you’ve got to pass my baggage out. I’ll collapse if I stand around here.” He was in trouble. He went around to various doctors who did him no good, and then he asked if I could get him into the Austen Biggs Center in Stockbridge.
    JEAN STEIN  Dr. John Millet was assigned as Francis Sedgwick’s psychiatrist at Biggs. His father was a painter—Mark Twain had been his father’s best man. Mr. Sedgwick spent three months at Biggs under his care. He had a large private room with a chaise longue by the fireplace. The patients were called “guests.” Mr. Sedgwick’s bed was turned down by a maid, who left him a pitcher of milk by his bedside table.
    Alice de Forest visited Francis Sedgwick regularly. It must have been very difficult for her. Dr. Biggs, the head of the Biggs Center, and Dr. Millet told them that Mr. Sedgwick was recovering from aphase of manic-depressive psychosis. Dr. Millet suggested that Mr. Sedgwick rest for a few months and then have a quiet wedding and honeymoon.
    MINTURN SEDGWICK  Mr. de Forest went to see Dr. Biggs and Dr. Millet, and the reports were not very encouraging. He telephoned me and said, “The next time you’re in New York I’d appreciate it if you’d come and call on me.” So I said I’d be delighted, and I saw the great man in his office. The first thing he said was: “We’re advised that Francis and Alice shouldn’t have any children.” Well, to me that meant: Don’t get married. But there was nothing I could do about it. The service was held in Grace Church in New York. Like most Groton boys, Francis was a tremendous admirer of the Rector, Mr. Peabody, and he had him at the wedding to perform the service. But Francis didn’t realize that under church protocol it’s the clergyman of the church who has to declare you man and wife. I was Francis’ best man; we met there early to run over the high points before the service. When he overheard the Rector say that the other fellow would make the