Part 3

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 (preparatory students debarred from the Philalethean and doing very clever work), 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."

One of the instructors had him at work over the window plants in her room one day during the visit of an old friend--a returned missionary--and sought to draw him out a little for her benefit, mentioning what was sure to start him, something about the "Old Country," and that Mrs. ---- had just returned after several years' residence abroad. He snipped away at his plants unconcernedly, and without stopping his work inquired,--"Did you 'appen to go to Hingland?" She answered, "Yes, but I was very unhappy there; I lost my husband in that country." He turned instantly, surveying her comprehensively and compassionately, shaking his head slowly,--"Oh! Oh! and so 'ard to get another."

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.

Acquaintance with the best was the design, and the old composers were gone over till some familiarity with them was common in case of the audience. Pretty dry and dull the pianola and Victor lovers would think those evenings in these days, but all the musical machine devices have "come in" since that time. What if the President did occasionally go to sleep while we were performing, we had no pride in popular music to keep him awake. One evening Professor Robert announced that he would undertake to read at sight a little known sonata of Beethoven--a composition by its length and absence of strong "color" not usually played. It seemed endless to us music people, I remember, monotonous and wearisome. Dr. Raymond peacefully slept through the three quarters of an hour to our envy and approval. By and by Professor Robert finished and came out as the lights were revived to know what the chief thought. "Did you get into it at all, Mr. President?" he enquired eagerly. Dr. Raymond glanced a little ruefully at us, his companions in distress, then answered in his droll way, "Yes, I got into it all right--submerged, in fact." The appreciative laughter that followed, I fear Professor Robert never understood as we did.

In Mr. Vassar's lifetime his birthday was observed on the day of the week it fell, the inaugural celebration being on Monday, April 29, 1866. It was put on the Friday nearest the 29th in 1873. The invitations were sent out in the name of the students and the hour was five o'clock. The Vassariana of June that year, the first number of the first paper issued, gives account of the "celebration," as it was called then. The first eventful "Founder's" has passed into history, but it may not be familiar to you of to-day so the account will bear repeating. A triumphal arch of evergreens spanned the avenue at the lodge, and upon it were the words "Welcome to the Founder." At the left of this was the date of his birth, April 29, 1791; at the right, April 29, 1866. The monogram V. C. was in the center, and over all, bright flags and banners. The entrance to the college was also decorated with flags and garlands of evergreen, and the chapel trimmed with wreaths of evergreen and bright flowers.

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 (shade of Miss Lyman!) 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 Freischütz"--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. (Robert Collyer was the speaker in '72, Phillips Brooks in '73, Edward Everett Hale in '74, Colonel Higginson in '75.) 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.

The home of the Philalethean Society for many years--until the alumnae gymnasium was built--was society hall on the second floor of the museum building. Here were given union meetings to which were invited the whole college family. The weekly chapter meetings of Alpha, Beta and Delta were held in the largest recitation rooms of the college building.

The aim of Philalethea--which no one was allowed to forget--was distinctively literary culture, and it is marvelous what was accomplished, and what was the ambition still further to do. Dr. Raymond assisted in the organization of the society in 1865, and was its president for that year. The first public meeting was on Class Day evening the next June, the quaint form of invitation reading,--"The pleasure of your company is invited to a literary entertainment." The programme was nearly identical with that of Founder's Day, in prayer, music,--vocal and instrumental, and address of welcome followed by original song, poem, essays and drama. In this last figured Alethia, Goddess of Truth, and the Goddess of Discord, with the three Chapter representatives--Alpha, Beta and Delta. A chorus by the vocal club ended the chapel exercises and a collation and promenade concert took up the rest of the evening.

The anniversary meeting in December of that year was also elaborate, and the second part for the principal attraction of the evening presented an original colloquy,--"Representatives of European Nations." This time we had recitations in costume of different European countries by thirteen students, each student writing her own part and setting forth the respective advantages of the country chosen. All came on the stage together, and as each finished her claim to superiority, she stepped back into pre-arranged effective position, making at the end a beautiful tableau when Europa entered, addressing her children, her closing words being, "Forever on towards perfect liberty."

The December meeting gave a scene from Henry the Eighth, the only time anything approaching theatricals was seen on the chapel platform. In June the entertainment consisted of Shakespearean recitations--women of Shakespeare--nine characters being represented. The third anniversary meeting an original drama was given again--"The Undiscovered Sphere," with the Spirit of Aspiration, the Spirit of Love, Vassar students and attendants.

There was uncommon literary talent in the society with ambition for a career in that direction, and some of the successful women authors of to-day tasted the first sweets of fame on the Vassar platform. "The Gospel according to Saint Matthew" appeared in '68, the unauthorized publication of a clever, fun-loving, brilliant student, to be quickly suppressed. It was a harmless enough production, but considered--as were all travesties--in questionable taste. Programmes were submitted to the Faculty the same as for Founder's up to 1874, but prayer was dropped in 1870.

Later the programmes were modified a good deal, but they never fell off in interest. Debates took the place of original dialogue and colloquy. Some of the subjects I recall--"Does the reviewer benefit literature?" "Has history a law of conquest?" "Are science and poetry antagonistic?" Then there were addresses by alumnae students, or else speakers from abroad chosen for some distinction in authorship. The first change from promenade concert after the literary exercises in chapel came at Founder's in 1878 when dancing was allowed,--lanciers, quadrille and Virginia reel. It took till 1896 to establish round dancing and it was opposed even then.

The Founder was the first presiding officer of the branch of the Lyceum Bureau in Poughkeepsie in 1863, and Trustee Cyrus Swan its corresponding secretary. We heard those first years many distinguished Englishmen by this means--Gerald Massey, Wilkie Collins, Richard Proctor, Charles Kingsley,--and a few were afterwards secured by the college for the Friday evening lecture, Charles Kingsley among the number. He was exceedingly reserved, indifferent and hard to entertain. The only interest he showed was towards Miss Mitchell, whom he called upon at the observatory. "My wife would never forgive me if I came home without seeing Maria Mitchell." Later came George Macdonald and his wife for a week with us. He was a charming guest, lecturer and preacher. The historian, Edward Freeman, gave a course of lectures, also Matthew Arnold's coming was an event in our life.

No general reception was held after any lecture, but members of the Faculty with a few especially invited teachers were occasionally asked to the lady principal's parlor where chocolate, coffee, little cakes or sandwiches were generally served. When asked if he would take some refreshment, Mr. Kingsley frankly mentioned that he would like a glass of beer. The situation might have been embarrassing had not Professor Backus come to the rescue and carried the guest off to his study for a pipe and chat and bottle of ale, ministering satisfactorily to Mr. Kingsley's wants.