In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

•——— Recto Runninhead ———• 121 ———— Chapter Ten ———— Vassar Girl on a String p Arrived at Vassar at 8:30 P.M. Ate supper and went to my parlor. In a short time, Laura Harris entered and we decided to be roommates. This was gladly seconded and we resolved to move out of our separate rooms, P.6L and P.22½ and share the room P. 12½ F. W. Laura Harris was one of “the college quartette” who had been stranded with Cora at Vassar over the Christmas holidays. Like Cora, Laura was a Midwesterner (from Chicago) and in her first year at Vassar. Wednesday, January 7, 1885 Being much fatigued with my journey to New York, including all the dissipation I endured, I thought I would not take breakfast but remain quiet, so I did. At 9 a.m. I arose and went to Gibsons for milk, and having purchased a box of cake at the St. Dennies in New York, I breakfasted on the named delicacies . . . Had my regular recitations, and after lunch I went to bed and wept for a change. This is probably because I had such a giddy time in the City. I unpacked and looked forward to the time I could move and get out of the horrid North corridor, out of Miss Davis’s way so she would not reprimand me so often. It’s tough to return to dull routines after a fantastic vacation ends. While thinking about her own future, Cora seems to have become overwhelmed by Kitty’s fast and glamorous New York society lifestyle, and she dissolved into tears in the privacy of her bedroom. She could not seem to explain this outburst to herself. She had visited a social milieu [ 121 ] 122 •——— verso runninghead ———• •——— chapter ten ———• that was her heart’s desire, but could she ever make that kind of life happen for herself? At the end of her life, Cora suffered from severe depression, and this is one of several hints I picked up from her diary that alerted me to what might be in store for her—the subtle indication of a flaw buried deeply beneath her jaunty public persona. “Laura Harris brought me 8 letters from the morning mail which revived my failing spirits more.” “Three little maids from College.” Cora (at left) pretending to sneak out of Vassar with a friend named Sue and Mame Rogers (right). •——— Recto Runninhead ———• 123 •——— Vassar Girl on a String ———• It helped reanimate Cora’s spirits to aim a jab at a convenient, annoying authority figure. In this case it was her nemesis, the “horrid” corridor teacher Miss Davis (Vassar College class of ’78, majored in math and physics), who was a Southerner from Hampton, Virginia. Corridor teachers lived unenviable lives; they were often overqualified, underemployed recent college graduates without the credentials to become full professors, and they patrolled the college community’s front lines daily, trying to keep some level of order among the hundreds of high-spirited young ladies whose welfare they were responsible for. Every Monday evening, Miss Davis met with her charges. Each student was expected to report honestly about her behavior during the previous week and confess if she had breached any college rules. The meetings were supposed to be compulsory, but you could cut: “Was absent from corridor meeting but was excused,” Cora wrote later that spring. If Miss Davis showed a sour face to her charges, I will forgive her for it in retrospect. She was educated for a career in math and physics but was unable to break free from Vassar ’s gilded confines into a real job on the outside world. Today, a Vassar graduate with that kind of training would be headed for engineering school or a Wall Street career. Instead, Miss Davis found herself marooned on a college hallway in a low-paying job involving no more intellectual stimulus than being a camp counselor would. There were in fact many gilded cages filled with frustrated, intelligent, ambitious women in 1885, and Vassar was one of them. Worse, Miss Davis was no doubt well aware that many of the young girls whose lives she controlled would soon be sailing out of college to marry wealthy men, at which point they would instantly far surpass her limited station in life. It’s no wonder she was touchy. Drawing by Mary Donohue of their corridor teacher, Miss Davis, as the devil. “Young ladies, I’m surprised—What’s the meaning of this?” Courtesy of...

Share