Wilson at Home

MY AUNT LOUISA AND WOODROW WILSON-- Margaret Axson Elliot--Chapel Hill ($3).

Georgia-born, orphaned Margaret Axson was raised by two remarkable relatives --in childhood by her Aunt Louisa; in adolescence by her brother-in-law Woodrow Wilson, then President of Princeton. Now, as Margaret Axson Elliott, wife of Princeton's onetime Dean Edward C. Elliott, the sister of the first Mrs. Wilson has recorded her memories of these guardians who taught her the value of principles, courage and tolerance. Readers of My Aunt Louisa and Woodrow Wilson are likely to neglect worthy Aunt Louisa, for the interest and value of Author Elliott's unprofessional book are mainly in its homely details of the home life of a future great U.S. President.

"Submerged in Petticoats." "He would come [down to] breakfast not too annoyingly cheerful, drink his fruit juice, and glance over the morning paper, making running comments. . . . The rest of the family would file down -- sisters, sisters-in-law, female friends -- until 'two rows of smiling women' flanked the table. 'I am submerged in petticoats!' Wilson would say, smiling." Between meals, the women of the house rarely saw him. Either he had gone to classes or faculty meetings on his bicycle ("turning the pedals neither too fast nor too slowly, cleanly and precisely as he did everything"), or was locked in his top room working tirelessly on his books and papers ("A pity he did not enter the ministry.' said Calvinistic Aunt Louisa regretfully). His only household chore was a weekly winding of the tall grandfather clock.

Only later was "the legend of his inaccessibility . . . developed." Out of working hours his household found him full of "gay nonsense" and friendliness. lie enjoyed whittling, because, he said: "Waittiers are thinkers . . . and from groups of whittlers come the trickles of sentiment and conviction which merge at last to form the broad stream of public opinion." In the evening he liked to read poetry aloud to the assembled family, or sing snatches of Gilbert & Sullivan and Scottish ballads. He loved to play the "heavy villain" in family melodramas, "dragging one foot behind him, scowling over his shoulder," and barking his favorite ejaculation: "By the great horn spoon!"

Jealous Father. When his daughters grew older, "Woodrow showed an unsuspected side of himself . . . turned into the conventional father who dislikes his daughters' beaux." He lost all interest in promising undergraduates who hung around his girls, gave the "steadies" sarcastic nicknames: "Old Faithful"; "Chronic." He was also shocked at the idea of a young man "lolling" at one end of the telephone and "summoning" a young lady to the other end. "This is Woodrow Wilson speaking," he would enunciate icily. "Can't you walk over?" Then he would emerge from his study slightly ashamed, muttering: "I fancy I've lost you a beau." Sometimes he added: "I can imagine no worse fate for a girl than to marry a man of coarser fibre than her own."

Death and Politics. After Margaret married her Princeton dean ("I trained him to be your husband," Woodrow told her proudly), she saw her brother-in-law only occasionally. Once was after the Peace Conference, when he told her his favorite story about Premier Clemenceau. Wilson had congratulated the old man on doing a fine job with inferior personnel, and the "Tiger" had replied: "My dear Mr. President, Rome was not saved by eagles." Another time was after the first Mrs. Wilson's death, when Woodrow murmured sadly: "It would never have happened if I hadn't gone into politics. The strain of it killed her."

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