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Winnie’s Notebook
- University of Georgia Press
- Chapter
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Winnie’sNotebook may29,1898 Onthisdayin1881—seventeenyearsandhalfmylifeago—Ileft boardingschool.Mymother,whohasneverhesitatedtorequest favorsoffriendsandfriendsoffriends,hadaskedMissEmily Mason,wholivedinParisandwouldbetravelinginGermanyat thattime,tocollectmeinKarlsruheandtakemetotheglorious CityofLight,whereIwouldliveunderherwinguntiltheycame togetme.Icouldhardlysleepthenightbefore;thedeparture IhadlookedforwardtoeversinceIarrivedattheFriedlander Institute was finally about to happen—unless there was some last-minutecomplication,suchastheelderlyspinsterIwasto bereleasedtohavingachangeofplanorheart.Varina’sletter haddescribedthischaperonas“quitesprightlyforhersixty-odd years.”ItookthattomeanMissMasonwasonlyslightlybentover andgotaroundreasonablywellwithacane. I was waiting anxiously on the front gallery with my trunk, portmanteau,andhatboxwhenshearrivedatpreciselythetime hernotehadspecified.Tomysurprise,V.’sdescriptionwasnot euphemistic:MissMasonwasindeedsprightly,andalsocaneless. Shewalkedwithlongstridesandwithpurpose,asthougheach 102 devotion stepshetookwasimportant.Shesmiledatmyself-consciouscurtsy andtoldmetocallherEmily.Herglovedhandtiltedmyface. “Thepictureyourmothersentwasofanadolescentgirl.Butyou, mydear,areonthevergeofbecominganextraordinarilyattractive youngwoman.”Forthefirsttime,Irealizedthetermwoman hasmoredimensionandpossibilitythanthepallidnounlady. WhileEmilysupervisedherdriver’sstashingofmyluggage,I scrutinizedherangularprofileandsmoothlycoiffed,iron-gray hairandnotedthesmartnessofherslim-skirted,pin-stripedsuit andthecrispwhiteblousethatresembledaman’sshirt.The headmistresses loomed like Valkyries in the doorway. I knew theyweregladtobeseeingthelastofme.Theothernewgraduates haddepartedthedaybefore,aftertheawardingofcertificates .(TheoneIreceivedhadmynamewrong—VerrineAnna Davies—buttheerrorwouldnotbediscovereduntilmymother unfurledthescrolleddocumentmonthslater,inMississippi.At firstshewasfurious,thenshelaughedsoheartilyIheardaseam rip.) Asthecabclattereddownthecobbleddrive,Ihadnodesire tolookbackatthedreary,gargoyledstonemansionthatseemed outofplaceinthathospitable,fan-shapedcityofneoclassical architectureandbeautifullylaidoutparks.Emilyhadinstructed thedrivertotakeustotherailwaystation,wherewewouldboard acarriagetrainforParis. Iwasawarethatmycompanionwasahighlyregardedscholar, theformerheadmistressofaneliteschool,andtheauthorof severalbooks.Inourfirstconversation,whichwastimidonmy partandenthusiasticonhers,Ilearnedthatshehadlivedin ParisforyearsbutintendedtomovebacktotheUnitedStates eventually.Andshehasdoneso.Atpresent,Emilydividesher [54.84.65.73] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 08:43 GMT) winnie’snotebook 103 timebetweenhercountryhouseinMarylandandanapartment inGeorgetown. After sharing a compartment in a train that looked like its miniaturecounterpartinBlackForestshops,wearrivedthenext morninginthecitythatfiveyearsbeforemyfatherhaddeemed toomorallydecadenttoentrustwithayounggirlwhoseparents wouldnotbecloseby.Probablybydintofherhavinginvolved Emily,Varinahadgothimtoagreetomyhavingthissojournin Paris. BythetimeweweresettledintoacabwithaFrench-speaking driver,mycompanionhadmadeitclearshewouldnotbean overlyattentivechaperone.ShecasuallyoutlinedhowIwould spendtheweeksbeforemyparentswouldarrivetotakemeoff herhands:“I’vesignedyouupwithAntoineDuval,whodirects anartschool,whichisconvenientlylocatedafewblocksfrom myapartmentbuilding.Isuggestyoutakeastudioclassanda lectureseries.Alsowithinstrollingdistanceisasmallconservatory ,shouldyoudesiretofurtheryourmusicalvocation,asyour mothersuggested;andadear...