Hill Country Living
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By Coulter Fussell
It’s a Wagner Week! Here’s a letter to Jessie from a classmate at Wellesley College outside Boston. I edited it for length but it’s a great description of college life at this all-girls school.
January 23, 1897
My dear friend Jesse,
Brownie and I had a mildly gay time in Boston. We were respectably Bohemian. I wanted to patronize the Castle Square but she could not be induced to anything livelier than the symphony.
Therefore, I took in a good deal of classical music which is probably better for me than the unclassical ballet. Margaret and Edith are going this afternoon to see “Jack and the Beanstalk” and I’m crazy to go.
I had a lovely time at Mary Spinks. All the family are what you would naturally expect Spink’s family to be. It is the free and easiest household I ever saw. We slept as late as we pleased and meals were served anytime we were ready for them. I felt perfectly at home the moment I came in the door and the feeling grew every day. Spink’s father is great.
I have come to the conclusion that I rather approve of the mothers and fathers as a class, my own excepted when they don’t send me any money. Think of missing a ballet where dancers have electric lights in their clothes all for the lack of a few paltry cents.
The new student parlor is so small that it cannot be used as a general assembly place. The girl with a man will, of course, be glad for additional campaign ground but for anything else, it is not good. The furnishings at present consist of dark green wall hangings, red curtains, brass framed mirror, a piano, a few chairs and one palm.
The class social was in some respects a great success. About the largest fizzle it was ever my privilege to have anything to do with. The gym looked beautiful. All the lights were covered with red crêpe paper. The hangings, screens and pillows were as usual, only a little more tastefully arranged.
Ms. Wooley was great as Mother Goose. She wore a short, red petticoat and a tall, red steeple hat and hobbled around on a cane. The goose was killing. It was Mary Haskell, though none of us knew it at the time. Bess and Florence were the Man Who Went to London and his wife.
Occasionally, Bess would get out of the wheelbarrow and let the goose get in. Sometimes it got affectionate and laid its heads on Miss Wooley’s shoulder and sometimes it stood on one leg. But it made its most brilliant success dancing. On account of its tail, it had some difficulties in the crowd and once had to go out for repairs. Emily was a queen and Sadie was her king. They had costumes sent from Boston, beautiful ones. Lucy was Old Mother Hubbard and had her dog with her, a real live one.
Lucille and Elsie have been sending out invitations for initiation into the “Manhattan Cocktail Club.”
After much persuasion they told me that one toast was to be the “subjectivity of the cocktail.” They have invited themselves to have the initiation in Edith’s room. The initiates, of whom I hear Edith is one, are to provide the ingredients for the cocktails and other light refreshments.
I can’t remember all the girls always asking me if I’ve heard from you and sending you love.
Remember me to your family. I feel as if I know them all especially to Gene and Dudley.
As ever, Bernice.
