Read Ebook: Earliest Years at Vassar: Personal Recollections by Wood Frances Ann

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It was pre-eminently a family in the old days, not a community as now. The distinction between Faculty and teachers was rather sharply drawn, but this was more than made up by the close personal relations between officers and students. The teachers were made to feel a part of the social life. They had a definite place in receiving and entertaining guests at all public functions, and could not stay away without their absence being noticed and for this called gently to account. It was not considered exactly as "getting permission," but no teacher went out of college for the night without signifying her intention both to Miss Lyman and Dr. Raymond. It would seem as if Miss Lyman alone was the person to receive all such requests, but she always answered cordially,--"Certainly, and will you speak to the President also?"

The general exodus from any college affair promising no personal interest was unheard of. I remember once after an unbroken succession of Friday evening lectures there was an universal feeling of weariness and indifference when it was unexpectedly announced at evening prayers that we were to have a lecture on Shakespeare at the close of the evening study hour. How Dr. Raymond suspected that the audience would fall off--that there might be many absentees--we never guessed, but word went round to each corridor teacher to inform her domain that everybody was expected to attend. That such a proceeding should have been necessary gave rise next evening to a quiet rebuke,--"I have been a student of Shakespeare for more than twenty years, and I have never found any lecturer on this subject yet from whom I could not get profit and instruction."

Those were tremendous occasions when Dr. Raymond felt moved to reprimand. Merciless and all out of proportion to the offence, we sometimes thought the talks then, but who shall say what was not checked of lawlessness in the beginning and disgrace in the end? The old chapel has seen and heard a great variety in its day, and if the walls could speak, what histories might be unfolded! Two weddings have been held there, one in June with daisy decorations, the other in autumn with brilliant hues and warmer coloring. Dr. Raymond had never performed the ceremony till he did so for his daughters. He wrote a special service, and very beautiful and impressive he made it.

A set of rules, drawn up by Miss Lyman and known as the "Students' Manual" was printed in pamphlet form, and a copy placed in each parlor. She also read to each entering class certain other rules concerning deportment. If these rules caused some rather indignant amusement, as being absurd and childish, unfitting college students, now and then a case was apparent where the "cap fitted," and a hint was given without offence.

Students studied in their rooms, and visits to and from rooms at any time during study hours were not allowed except by permission from the lady principal. Special permission also had to be obtained for going out of the building after dark, except when due at the gymnasium or the observatory. Students' visitors were received in the college parlor by Miss Lyman or her assistant, and students were not expected to enter there till summoned. Neither were they allowed to make use of the main entrance hall, but must go out and come in by the rear doors, and through those in the towers in either wing.

It was impressed upon the whole family that the higher education of women was an experiment, and that the world was looking on, watching its success or defeat. The good of the college was the watchword, and not mere gratification of individual preferences. Many a girl has admitted that her first sense of the importance of law and order came from the rules she often rebelled against. If too much paternal government was whispered even thus early, a student with several roommates in a small parlor, and subject to intrusive friends in study hours without protection of rule, had some reason to be thankful for it. There was only one building, and no escape from it to a quiet place to work under better conditions. All had to live up to a tremendously high standard--the ordinary one not enough for those days. It was difficult to keep on this mountain peak continually, but if we fell off now and then it was from no lack of admonition. "The good of the college!" "The good of the college!" was reiterated constantly. Light-hearted law breakers caught visiting in study hours or in silent time, or in some other equally innocent, reprehensible proceeding would gravely parody in excuse, "We did it for the good of the college." But nobody had daring sufficient to let this answer reach the "higher powers."

Frequent absence from college was not thought advisable. Even the student whose home was in town was restricted, once in three weeks when she went home to spend the night, being the rule, but not strictly enforced. Holidays and times when there was any special festivity there was no escape. You were made to feel so essential in the family life as to consider it a little disloyal to evade any function. Rarely did any one other than the student living in town go away for Thanksgiving Day. A great deal was made of this festival, the dinner and the entertainment afterwards.

The Christmas vacation was not the cheerless occasion of wholesale departure, as in this day of large numbers. The students, who from necessity had to stay over, or who preferred to--as many did--could hardly have had more done for their pleasure and entertainment if they had been visiting in a private family. In addition to the various plans among themselves, the college gave them masquerade and dancing parties, musical or theatrical entertainment, candy pulls, and sleigh rides, so no girl had reason to complain of dullness, or envy her fortunate roommate at home. One Christmas, the idea of an original play was started, but would have fallen through if Dr. Raymond had not come to the rescue with advice and ready pen. He entered into the spirit of the thing immensely, taking a part with other officer volunteers, making a brilliant success of what at first promised forlorn failure.

Three minutes were allowed after the last stroke of the gong signal for meals. Those entering the dining-room later had to stop at Miss Lyman's table and give explanation of tardiness before taking their seats. At dinner and supper, all remained at table until the bell was struck as the signal for rising, but at breakfast each withdrew at her own pleasure, excused by the teacher presiding at her table.

The food was abundant and excellent. We had a substantial breakfast, and dinner at one. Supper was a light meal, with an occasional hot dish of some sort. Miss Mitchell coming to the dining-room late one evening inquired as she took her seat,--"What is the meaning of the unusually happy faces I see around?" "Baked potatoes for supper." "How pitiful," was her comment. There was the disgruntled one among us--as there always is--but no one could take exception in earnest to the meals set before us.

We had our little jokes of course. One evening at sunset as two teachers stood at a window gazing at the blaze of color in the western sky, one exclaimed rapturously, "Isn't this glorious!" "Yes," sighed the other, "how I wish I could eat it!" Another time was after the early breakfast as we were assembling for prayers. In Miss Lyman's increasing feebleness the service devolved on Miss Lepha Clarke acting as assistant lady principal. We music teachers sat in the choir and the organist often chose the hymn. One of our number asked the privilege of selection that morning, and gravely presented the book to Miss Clarke, the hymn chosen beginning,--

"Lord, what a wretched land is this That yields us no supplies."

Miss Clarke's composure remained unmoved, and she forgave the audacity of the offence, but laughingly begged the experiment not to be repeated.

The Founder's friend, Mr. William Smith, of Smith Brothers, was connected with the college for two years, one before the opening in equipment of the steward's department, and the next year in superintending its successful operation. There was no separate laundry building, and the basement was fitted up with proper machinery for this under his direction. Every detail of his important department was instituted and established by Mr. Smith. He also arranged for the system of steam heating--a new thing in this city at that time--through the entire building.

The tables in the dining-room were alternately a short one seating ten, and a longer one seating fourteen, with a teacher at the head of each. The small rooms near the entrance were designed by the architect as cloak-rooms, but were utilized at once for practice at table of French and of German conversation. The corresponding rooms above near the chapel door were also diverted from the original plan, and still do primeval duty as linen closet and storage place. Notices given out at morning prayers in Miss Lyman's time, later were read in the dining-room up to 1892, when a bulletin board was placed in the second corridor center, doing away with the custom.

The Students' Manual stated, "Direct traffic with the Steward's Storeroom is forbidden." The student wishing to purchase fruit and crackers--about the only articles obtainable--brought her money for purchase to her corridor teacher at breakfast, with a list of what was wanted. The teacher made the purchase and the articles were delivered by messenger to the student's room.

There were corridor teachers in those days. They had the large rooms facing the corridor at each end of the building and commanding full view of the domain in charge. The duties of this teacher were to see that the rules as laid down in the Manual for lights, exercise, study-hour, silent time, and, yes,--baths, were kept. She also held a short office hour daily for the benefit of those wishing to consult her. She taught a Bible class and had a weekly prayer meeting, besides the special Sunday evening service.

Twenty minutes daily, morning and evening, were devoted to silent time, by which every student was absolutely sure of some part of the day entirely to herself. It was no easy task to provide places for the observance of this custom or to enforce it, and reluctantly, after some years it was dropped.

All meetings opened with prayer, corridor meetings as well. At these meetings--every Monday evening after chapel--the students reported perfect or deficient, as the case might be, and also received such general admonition as the teacher deemed advisable. Later the same evening all the corridor teachers met Miss Lyman in her parlor to give their respective reports and to receive her counsel and direction. This meeting was also opened with prayer.

The lights in the corridors had to be extinguished promptly at the stroke of the ten o'clock bell. The President's office was under the student rooms, and some officer there in business conference one evening saw him lift his hand in salutation to the ceiling, saying as the gas over his study table flared up suddenly at the sound of the gong, "My faithful daughters!"

Others were not quite so prompt. "It seems," said a witty teacher as we walked slowly down her corridor long after the bell had struck one "laundry-bag night," waving her hand to the long row of lights in full force, "it seems it is never too late to mend!"

One joke played on the teachers who had to look after the lights was hugely appreciated by them as well as those who played it. Some trouble with the gas had come up, and candles and candlesticks had been furnished to each room for temporary use, the word going round that lights must be put out at ten as usual. And so they were "put out" and on exact time, but on the floor of the corridor near each door, candles still blazing. The teachers patrolled as usual, making no sign that the proceeding was at all unusual, greatly enjoying the scene, and appreciating the giggles and whispers of watchers from inside bedroom windows. The watchman had double duty, as he went his rounds, but that was all.

The only means of conveyance to town, unless one ordered a special carriage, was by the omnibus--a vehicle something like the old Fifth Avenue stage--which made stated journeys back and forth every forty minutes, the price of the trip, thirty cents each way. The city railroad was built in Poughkeepsie in 1870, but that was not extended to the college till the autumn of 1872. Before this date, however, the fare by omnibus had been reduced to ten cents, and was continued at this rate after the adoption of street cars.

Students under twenty had to have a chaperone, so it was, for some, quite an expensive journey, and most shopping trips were made by "clubbing," one student going for several. Until 1872, before their separation from the college classes, preparatory students went to town with a teacher.

Permission had to be obtained of Miss Lyman at her office hour Saturday morning and the name of the teacher given who had consented to accompany. A list also of purchases had to be submitted and left with her. The chaperone received this list, signed by Miss Lyman, with strict injunction not to permit any extension of the privilege given. "It teaches a girl to be systematic and exact in her accounts, and curtails trivial and foolish expenses. If she misses once to get some coveted article, she will be the quicker next time to remember." All excellent doctrine, but so disagreeable to the teachers to carry out that they combined to have the rule rescinded.

Taken from fifteen years as head of an English boarding school, what wonder that the family and social life at Vassar was formed by Miss Lyman--as we think now--on strict and narrow lines. Hardly a trace of the earliest regulations exists. The chaperone was once much in evidence. A girl was not allowed to go alone even to church without one, if under age. A young student that first year tells her experience the first communion Sunday. Miss Lyman gave her very cordial permission to attend the service, providing, as was customary, a teacher of the same denomination as escort. At the outset the teacher seemed unwilling to go to this particular church , and when they entered made her charge sit far back by the door. Three times she ignored or refused a suggestion about going forward to the altar, and finally the student rose and started off down the aisle by herself. She wore a white sailor hat with long black ribbon streamers, and suddenly felt a quick jerk on these by the irate teacher in pursuit a few steps behind. "We knelt together at the altar," laughed the victim, "but you may fancy how much good the service did me."

"What are your requisitions for a teacher?" Miss Lyman was often asked. Her reply was characteristic:--"First she must be a lady; second, she must be a Christian; third, she must have the faculty of imparting knowledge, and lastly, knowledge." "Why, Miss Lyman, would you consider being a lady the first essential of all?" "Most certainly. I know of good Christian women I should not, on account of their manners, like to place any girl under. Then, too, everybody knows that the finest teacher is not necessarily the best scholar. I have known many who had fine attainments, but were absolutely unfitted to impart knowledge to others."

A credulous young freshman was told by her roommates that Miss Lyman, if asked, would give out at morning prayers any hymn a student wished sung on her birthday, that it was her custom to do so. Not stopping to consider, the girl betakes herself to the lady principal's office and makes known her wish for the day soon approaching. Miss Lyman, perceiving the perfect good faith of the child, did not explain she had been made a victim of a hoax, but left that to the friends who had played the joke. Of course, the student was mortified. However, on the morning of her birthday, the hymn Miss Lyman gave out was the one asked for, and the girl never forgot the kindness that obliterated all chagrin.

Miss Lyman's tact was unfailing in many other ways. A week or so after my arrival, I met her one morning coming out with a bundle of papers in her hand on her way to her regular appointment with Dr. Raymond at his office. She greeted me cordially, asked me how I was getting on in my work, and if I was comfortable in the room assigned me, adding, "I think you have never been in my office to see my window garden?" opening the door and ushering me in as she spoke. The flowers were really lovely, but more to me was the delightful friendly chat for five or ten minutes. Some time later a teacher high in authority asked me if I had ever had my official interview with Miss Lyman. "No, but I am expecting to be called up any day." "Are you sure? Have you never been to her office?" "Oh, yes, but not officially," and I related the window garden episode. Miss Clarke smiled. "How like her! She is apparently satisfied, then, for her only comment about you to me, because I had known you before coming here, was 'Do you think her Unitarian influence is likely in any way to be pernicious?'"

Among the many things outgrown at Vassar is mention of "Unitarian" with bated breath, as of something tabooed. It was a great bond with Miss Mitchell when she discovered religious preferences akin to her own, and she often admonished, "We must stand by our guns--must show our colors." You would not think, dear Vassar girl of to-day who can hear now unchallenged your own beloved minister of that denomination in chapel, that forty years ago he would not have been allowed to preach there?

On Sunday, morning and evening prayers were omitted. Bible classes at nine o'clock were held by professors and teachers in the recitation rooms, each corridor teacher having her own students in her class. The Bible teachers conducted their classes according to personal belief and opinion. Students had no choice whose class they should attend, but were assigned as seemed best to Miss Lyman. She herself taught the freshmen, and was said to be wonderfully interesting. Professor Farrar's class was very popular, and the teachers thronged to hear him. He was fresh from Elmira and Thomas K. Beecher, of whom in boldness and originality he was a worthy disciple. Professor Orton was also an interesting teacher of the Bible, but whatever keenness was employed to draw him out on the debatable questions of evolution, special creation and the like, he knew well how to set aside all discussion, and nobody ever heard his personal opinion. Pinned down for a statement of some kind, his invariable introduction would be, "It is said."

Chapel service was at eleven o'clock, the same as now, with preaching by the President. A voluntary religious service was held by direction of Dr. Raymond in the chapel in the afternoon, and there were voluntary prayer meetings in the evening.

Sermons on those infrequent Sundays when a stranger was invited to preach amused us by the delusion the minister labored under of the obligation to have a discourse suited to the audience on woman's sphere and duties. So many sermons on "Martha and Mary"--seven in one year, I believe--that we disgraced the college by broad smiles whenever the familiar allusion began or names were mentioned. If it was not Mary and Martha, it would be the conflict between science and religion that was next fitting, and science had a hard time of it with the lurid dangers of scepticism set forth in no uncertain terms. Professor Orton was exceedingly noncommittal on this subject, and close was the watch on him by those occupying neighboring chapel seats to see how he "took it." But no one ever did find out what the professor thought. He bore it all immovably without change of expression--not the faintest sign of interest betokened.

We observed in February the "Day of Prayer for Colleges." It was a sort of second Sunday and not to be evaded. The library--then removed to the fourth corridor--was opened awhile before the eleven o'clock service, after which the doors were opened again the half hour before dinner. The librarian once found to her horror that she had locked a student in, and began profound apologies for her careless oversight. "Oh, not at all, thank you very much! You see it was to-day or never with my moral philosophy topic--my last chance to get at the reference books,--so I didn't disclose myself when the door was about to be shut."

Communication with the outside world was--as we should think now, very restricted. There was no regular telegraph station at the college until 1873, but an operator came out for certain hours to send messages, none at all being allowed in the evening unless in great emergency. A special delivery messenger came from town in the evening, if you were so unfortunate as to receive a dispatch, and this, however insignificant, cost from one and a half dollars to three, depending on what was expended for livery hire to bring it out--as I happened to know to my indignant cost, more than once. The telephone had not been invented. The short day of the bicycle had not begun; electric cars and motors were a Mother Shipton prophecy still. All the electric devices so common now were hardly dreamed of.

For amusements there were base ball clubs, croquet clubs and a chess club with "never too late to mate" its motto. A bowling alley was in the basement of the museum; there was horseback riding, driving, with excursions,--river and country, as now. There was no basket ball, tennis or golf. Dancing in the gymnasium was frequent, and some receptions with dancing took place there. There was no prescribed physical culture as now, light calisthenics after Dr. Dio Lewis' methods sufficed. Trips to the Catskills and Lake Mohonk were in order, and in the Easter vacations extensive geological excursions were taken to various places of interest.

A students' paper,--"The Vassariana," was established the first year, having one number only. In '67 the name was changed to the "Vassar Transcript," and was continued as a yearly number in the same form till 1873, when the "Miscellany" began as a quarterly magazine. In 1878 it was altered to a monthly, nine numbers as we see it at present.

Noticed both in the Vassariana and Transcript we find the Floral Society, the Cecilia Society, the Exoteric , and the Society of Religious Enquiry like the Y.W.C.A. of to-day.

Much was made of the Floral Society in the earliest days. It was recreation, exercise and profit combined. Hardly any member of the college family but lent support to it, either by contributions or active work. A capable English gardener was always on duty, and one particularly in the procession of these was a most interesting character. We all delighted to talk to him and to hear him say,--"Ladies likes smilax for their 'air, it is so very light and hairy." A tramp came through the pine-wood path into the garden one day and tried to beg. "'E wanted fifty cents," said our man. "I told 'im I 'adn't any money, and wouldn't be allowed to give 'im any if I 'ad. Besides, says I, there's my boss a-coming," pointing to Miss Braislin approaching from the opposite point of the circle. "That your boss? Wal, before I'd have a woman for my boss," sneered the tramp as he hastily retreated. "Some folks is so 'igh minded," commented H. placidly.

A student once asked him where he lived in England. He answered, "About twenty miles from York, Miss, and I got up early one morning and walked the whole distance to see a man 'anged." "How could you!" exclaimed the girl much shocked. "Oh, I wanted to. 'E was a friend of mine. Yes," reflectively, "I've seen two 'angings and the Centennial."

From the beginning there was musical talent of high order among the students, and their recitals and concerts were far above the common. The women entering those first years had, many of them, received the best the country afforded from childhood, and came far advanced in musical training, a few even with some little experience in playing in public, so that slow, patient growth was largely eliminated, and Professor Wiebe, the head of the department, had effective material at the start to work with. He was ably assisted by the best foreign teachers procurable, as well as by American teachers who had either studied abroad or under good German masters in this country. The concerts exclusively by the teachers or assisted by artist performers from the old Philharmonic Society were, then and for years following, events to be looked forward to. Professor Wiebe's specialty was singing. He had a delightful voice and method, and organized the "vocal club" of that time. Succeeding him in 1867, came Professor Ritter to be connected with the college till his death in 1891. His historical lectures and recitals were famous. He organized the Cecilia Society in 1869, and in his lifetime continued the custom of a commencement week concert given Monday night.

Professor James Robert had succeeded Professor Knapp as the head of the classical department the second year, and lived with his young wife in the college family. Their pleasant rooms were on the fourth floor of the north wing, and were a favorite place of meeting. He was very musical in his tastes, reading at sight piano music and delighting in four-hand playing. A club of the music teachers met often in these rooms, having sometimes an evening of singing as well as of instrumental music. I remember at one of these meetings almost every number undertaken had been transposed into another key. We were groping our way to our respective rooms late after the lights were out. "Don't you live on this floor?" one of the party was asked. "No, an octave lower," she replied unconsciously, and wondered why we laughed.

The music department was very large, "ex-collegiate" being the excuse. The dependence of the family on the department for entertainment, as well as for sound instruction in musical culture, was something tremendous, and the fame of the college concerts and recitals went abroad in the land. It would make a history in itself--the work done in those days--the programmes undertaken and submitted, records of which are carefully preserved in the college archives.

Dr. Raymond was fond of music, though not in an especially cultivated sense, and urged Professor Robert to use the familiar parlors of the President's quarters for some of the impromptu musical evenings. The grand piano stood in the front parlor, where only the performers were allowed. The few admitted besides the President's family and club were in the back parlor; lights were turned down, absolute silence the order, as one would listen to a reading for education and instruction. All was strictly classical music--nothing else was tolerated or permitted.

At six the students under direction of the Marshal and two aids marched on either side of the avenue to the lodge, forming a continuous line to the circle in front of the entrance. When the Founder's carriage appeared with him and President Raymond, it was greeted with wavings of handkerchiefs,--the college yell being still unevolved. The lines turned instantly, marching back by the side of the carriage to the entrance where, in the vestibule, the Faculty and teachers were awaiting the procession. As the Founder went up the steps, the select band of singers stationed on the open porch sang the original song of welcome. Next, the officer of the day, Abby F. Goodsell of '69, was presented and escorted him to the chapel where the audience was waiting. As the Founder and escorts appeared at the chapel door, the organ, played by Professor Wiebe, began a triumphant peal, the audience rising and remaining standing till the party was seated. No one sat on the platform, but went up as occasion required. Prayer was offered by Dr. Raymond, then came piano music--a selection from "Der Freisch?tz"--by one of the solo performers of that time. A salutatory, or address of welcome as we say now, followed, after which came an original essay by one of the seniors which was followed by a song. This was preliminary to the principal part of the programme,--a series of recitations representing woman's social position in all ages, Swedish, Greek, Roman, Mediaeval, written or translated and adapted by those taking part, a modern selection from the "Princess" closing the recital. A brilliant musical duet for piano made way for a long original poem,--"A hilltop idyl," with local hits and description of the Faculty much appreciated. The closing lines were given with great effect,--

"And Vassar College stand through time An honor to the Nation."

You smile? How I wish I could put before you the earnest spirit of that time, each one wide awake to the recognition of a great privilege, and trying with might and main to express it!

However, this was not all in honor of the day. There was a floral tribute,--Flora, her attendants and chief representative student--an original drama--very pretty and pleasing, and, I may add, proper. A hymn for the occasion,--"Our father and our friend," closed the students' programme. Old Hundred and the Doxology sung by every one present ended the chapel ceremonies, a collation in the dining-room followed and a reception in the college parlors finished the day.

The second anniversary in '67 was as elaborate in original material of song, address, poem and essay as the previous one, and was further distinguished by the unveiling of the marble bust of Mr. Vassar--the bust we see to-day in the college parlor. A drama was written by one of '68, with Muse of the Past, Genius of Progress and her attendants, Science, Art, Religion and Music. As the Genius of Progress alluded to Vassar College and spoke of the Founder she exclaimed, "Behold his features!" the signal for the curtain at the rear of the stage to be parted, revealing the bust against a background of evergreens. In '68, the last time Mr. Vassar was present, the chief event was an original cantata with music by Professor Ritter, entitled "The Crown of Life," proving later of especially beautiful significance.

The following year it was purely a memorial service, the invitations given out for this from three till seven. There was no reception, simply tea served in the dining-room after the exercises. It was a most beautiful and appropriate service with Larghetto from Beethoven's Second Symphony, played on the organ by Miss Finch; eulogy by Miss Mary W. Whitney, class of '68; the Second Movement of Schumann's Symphony in B flat arranged for four pianos; a memorial hymn written by one of the seniors, the music by Professor Ritter. So from the first to the last, it was the students' tribute to Mr. Vassar and their loving honors.

In 1870 the exercises were changed to the evening with George William Curtis as speaker, having also an original recitative and chorus with music by Professor Ritter, ending as usual with a collation and promenade concert. The programmes henceforth were far less elaborate, confined chiefly to some speaker of distinction, his theme being eulogistic of the man Vassar and what his gift had done for the education of women. This changed gradually to topics of general educational interest or to some question of public affairs. A debate was sometimes introduced, a Shakespeare reading, or an address by an alumna student. Prayer was dropped from the programme in '74. No dancing appeared on the programme until 1878, and then four numbers only--lanciers alternating with quadrille. In 1895, the change was made to permit two affairs, literary exercises in the afternoon with the distinction they deserve, the evening given up to a reception with dancing.

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