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WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A Century of Women
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A CENTENNIAL PUBLICATION
WELLESLEY
COLLEGE
1875-1975: A Century of Women
JEAN GLASSCOCK, General Editor BARBARA P. McCARTHY
KATHARINE C. BALDERSTON
JOAN FISS BISHOP
MAUD HAZELTINE CHAPLIN
HARRIET B. CREIGHTON
GRACE E. HAWK
ALICE STONE ILCHMAN
HELEN SWORMSTEDT MANSFIELD
VIRGINIA ONDERDONK
JOHN R. QUARLES
MARGARET E. TAYLOR
ELLA KEATS WHITING
HENRY A. WOOD, JR.
Published by Wellesley College
f) n (F^rv^'^™ *T&
WOMEN CAN DO THE WORK. I GIVE THEM THE CHANCE.
Henry Fowle Durant
1X13
■ {Of
Copyright © 1975 by Wellesley College,
Wellesley, Massachusetts 02181.
All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means including
information storage and retrieval systems
without permission in writing from the
publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief paragraphs in a review.
Library of Congress Catalog No. 74-32661
Designed by The Dustins
Printed by the Vermont Printing Company
in the United States of America
IV
Foreword
This centennial history has a special authoritative quality because it
has been written by people who have had personal experience, in most
instances extending over a period of many years, with the subjects
they discuss here. It also has significance for anyone interested in higher
education and in the history of women because Wellesley College has
pioneered and continues to pioneer in providing opportunities for
women. It is appropriate that Wellesley will celebrate the centennial of
its opening in 1975, which has been designated by the United Nations
as the International Women's Year, and that the publication of this
volume in March will coincide with the official opening at Wellesley
of the Center for the Study of Women in Higher Education and the
Professions.
Although Henry Fowle Durant's views about the capabilities of women
were regarded as radical and, indeed, revolutionary a century ago, our
perspective enables us to appreciate even more fully than his contempo-
raries could the full extent of his daring and of the problems which he
confronted in making his vision a reality. He said, "Women can do the
work. I give them the chance." If this statement were made today, it
probably would still be considered newsworthy, but there are enough
well-qualified women scholars and administrators to enable a modern
Mr. Durant to achieve the objective with relative ease. In the 1870s there
was no such reservoir from which to draw. Of the first faculty, only one
member, Latin Professor Frances E. Lord, had had experience in college
teaching — this at Vassar, which had opened in 1865 and was one of the
very few institutions of higher education in which women could teach.
(It should be noted, however, that Miss Lord had not attended college.)
Part of Mr. Durant's genius lay in his ability to find women who could
"do the work.'' Mary E. Horton, the first professor of Greek, a fine
scholar who was self-trained, lived with her family directly across the
street from the college gates. In no other instance was he so fortunate in
having talent so near at hand; sometimes he even provided the necessary
training. On the recommendation of Louis Agassiz and Asa Gray, he
appointed as professor of natural history Susan M. Hallowell, a high
school teacher from Bangor, Maine, whose first year at Wellesley was
spent studying the most up-to-date methods of teaching biology in col-
leges in this country, and who later was the first woman admitted to
botanical lectures and laboratories at the University of Berlin. Another
high school teacher he sent to study instruction in science at men's col-
leges and universities was Sarah Frances Whiting. With Mr. Durant's
encouragement, she established a student laboratory for experimentation
in physics that was preceded in the United States only by that at the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Mrs. Durant's full partnership in all aspects of the planning and open-
ing of the College has never before been wholly recognized. For example,
only very recently have we learned (and, as has so often been true, from
an alumna) that Mrs. Durant brought from Virginia a friend, Jenny
Nelson, whose teaching experience had consisted of tutoring young cous-
ins and nieces and nephews, including Thomas Nelson Page. And the
fact that Jenny Nelson for the first two years after Wellesley opened
taught speech and Latin, and thereafter French and essay writing, was
characteristic of the versatility of the early faculty — including, as is
pointed out in the book, Alice Freeman Palmer.
Changing times and higher standards brought new challenges to the
young college. In 1893 a curriculum was adopted that was in some re-
spects as revolutionary as Mr. Durant's insistence on the use of original
sources and on student laboratories had been. An unprecedented number
of electives was offered, requiring greater specialization and new methods
of teaching. The way in which President Julia J. Irvine, in a period of
grave financial crisis (and, it must be acknowledged, before the exist-
ence of tenure provisions), managed to put the curriculum into effect
has never before been recounted — and it is an episode in Wellesley's
history which, like many others told here, will strike a responsive chord
on many campuses today.
The whole story of Wellesley's first century is remarkably rich both in
details and in broad strokes of development. The Great Fire in 1914
was a watershed; the rebuilding of the College after that disaster is dra-
matic and inspiring. The various pieces of the story of Wellesley meld
here in an authentic, colorful history of a college that has earned its place
among educational institutions. The special character of the College
emerges clearly, stemming as it does from the fact that from the very
beginning women have had unusual opportunities to teach, to learn, to
serve as trustees and as chief administrative officers. It has indeed been
"A Century of Women," as the sub-title indicates and as every chapter
illustrates, almost casually, never militantly.
Mrs. Bishop commented at the conclusion of her chapter on the ac-
tivities of Wellesley alumnae, "Much should be expected from those who
have had the education and incentives which Wellesley, a strong liberal
arts college for women, provides. That expectation has been fulfilled."
Our hope and expectation are that, building on the sturdy and exciting
past which is described in these pages, Wellesley in its second century
will continue to pioneer in the education of women.
Barbara Warne Newell
Office of the President
January 3, 1975
Preface
This preface is primarily to let the readers know why this is a rather
special book, not a conventional, traditional history of an institution on
a significant anniversary, and to acknowledge indebtedness to those who
are most responsible for it.
As even the brief biographies of the authors indicate, the other thirteen
are eminent specialists. (Perhaps I may be considered a generalist in rela-
tion to Wellesley.) Every person who was asked to write a chapter ac-
cepted the invitation (something of a record in itself!) and did so wholly
because of devotion to the College and without receiving any fees or
royalties. One of my greatest pleasures has been working with them —
and, I am delighted to say, observing their enjoyment, often to their sur-
prise, of their tasks, in particular the research in which they found them-
selves involved. (And research they did! I shall always remember the
way in which Mr. Quarles, politely declining assistance, spent days read-
ing Trustee Minutes which, in the early days, were in spidery penman-
ship. The figures which Mr. Wood compiled after delving as no one
ever had before into endowment records are reproduced in his own
handwriting, showing the very personal attention he gave to his assign-
ment.) The book is authoritative because the authors are the authorities
and they have worked with meticulous care; the flow is not interrupted,
however, by footnotes or other displays of scholarship. For ease of read-
ing, when sources were not immediately apparent, references to them
have been incorporated in the text.
Because this is an official history — the first ever published by Wellesley
— Trustee Minutes and other records have been available and have
provided valuable information. Some of it has illuminated areas that
were shadowy heretofore. We are most grateful to the Rev. Eric M.
North, who not long ago gave the College correspondence long treasured
by his grandmother, Anna M. McCoy, Secretary to the President of the
College from 1882 until 1889, and his mother, Louise McCoy North, a
member of the first class, a Greek teacher from 1880 until 1886, presi-
dent of the Alumnae Association from 1884 until 1886, and a trustee
from 1894 until 1927. Mrs. North's vital role in the development of the
College is evident throughout this volume. The cooperation of Andrew
Fiske has been great, and has been appreciated in equal measure. He has
given us access to the papers of his great-grandfather, Eben Norton Hors-
ford, who was a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Durant and ranked next to
them as the greatest early benefactor of the College. Mr. Fiske has also
been helpful in filling in for us lacunae in our knowledge of his great-
aunt, Lilian Horsford Fallow, a trustee from 1886 until 1922, and of his
grandfather, Andrew Fiske, a trustee from 1896 until 1930. The journals
of Horace E. Scudder, a trustee from 1887 until 1902, were also very
WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
helpful; we acknowledge here with gratitude permission from the Har-
vard College Library to quote from them. New insights and additional
facts have been provided by oral history interviews which I tape-re-
corded with present and former presidents, trustees, deans, faculty, ad-
ministrative staff and service employees, and a few alumnae who had
special knowledge of various periods. Excerpts from some of the inter-
views have been quoted; other interviews have been useful as background
information. All of them will doubtless prove enlightening to historians
in the future.
Miss Hawk has asked me to convey her thanks to the alumnae who as
students had been prominent in social service or political organizations
and whose thoughtful responses to her questionnaire are reflected in her
chapter. Other alumnae and their friends and families, too numerous
to mention individually, have presented to the archives letters and
scrapbooks of various college generations. Kathleen Elliott '18 supplied
special information about the College in World Wars I and II. To re-
quests for loans of photographs and for information of all kinds, alumnae
have complied with a kind of gladness to be of help that I have come to
expect from them even as I know how uncommon it is in the world today.
The Wellesley College Archives of course have been our greatest single
resource. On behalf of all of the authors who have made extensive use of
the marvelous material, now well catalogued, I express appreciation of
the superb cooperation of Wilma Slaight, the archivist. And I add my
special thanks for her patience and good humor when time after time I
requested still more pictures or another check of a puzzling point.
I wish to acknowledge my personal indebtedness to Anne C. Edmonds,
the Librarian of Mount Holyoke College, and Elizabeth Green, a long-
time member of its faculty, for searching records and memories for me; to
Alice Hackett Harter '21, who wrote the last history of Wellesley, for her
encouragement and counsel; to Marie L. Edel and Mark Bradford for
their technical assistance and advice and to her for cheerfully performing
many chores which a lesser person might have considered unworthy of a
distinguished editor's effort.
Mary Atkinson Mitchell '33, the author-photographer of several books,
contributed her time and talent in taking a number of the pictures used
in the book. The one of Prime Minister Nehru's visit was taken by Wil-
liam Biggart, now the Manager of the Duplicating Office, who has been
helpful in many ways. Credit for other illustrations goes to Robert
Chalue, Mark Feldberg, Bradford Herzog, Lawrence Lowry, George
Woodruff, and to photographers and cartoonists whose names we do not
know but whose material in the archives and in Legendas I have used
happily, sometimes as copied for us by Max Keller. Another word of
PREFACE
explanation about the illustrations is in order: they have not been listed
separately, but individuals and buildings identified in the captions have
been included in the index.
The last chapter is literally a postscript. It contains some of the bits
and pieces which were not germane to the principal chapters but which I
thought might be of interest if there were space for them. For a variety
of reasons, some pages became available at the last moment, and I glee-
fully used them for as many of my little tales as I could tuck in.
Short of devoting an entire volume, or series of volumes, to the sub-
ject, there could never be adequate space to recount the achievements
of alumnae. Mrs. Bishop's chapter, a section in the Alumnae Magazine's
centennial issue, "A Woman's Place," the Los Angeles Wellesley Club's
Wellesley After-images, and the biographies of alumnae who have par-
ticipated in the two "Many Roads" Conferences may be considered as
a unit in making at least a good beginning to what some day may be a
full-fledged project.
Finally, I should like to thank the Trustees for giving us the oppor-
tunity to produce this book, many members of the college community
for unstinting cooperation, and imagination in realizing when we
needed it — and to Mr. and Mrs. Durant for founding this College whose
first hundred years it has been our privilege to narrate.
Jean Glasscock
Centennial Historian and
General Editor
IX
Table of Contents
FOREWORD v
Barbara Warne Newell
President of Wellesley College
PREFACE vii
Jean Glasscock
Centennial Historian and General Editor
THE AUTHORS xii
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 1
Margaret E. Taylor, Helen J. Sanborn Professor Emeritus of Latin
Jean Glasscock
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 60
Jean Glasscock
THE FACULTY 87
Ella Keats Whiting
Former Dean of the College and Professor Emeritus of English
Literature
A FOOTNOTE TO KEATS WHITING 118
Alice Stone Ilchman
Dean of the College
THE CURRICULUM 122
Virginia Onderdonk
Former Dean of the College and Alice Freeman Palmer Professor
Emeritus of Philosophy
THE STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 164
Maud Hazeltine Chaplin
Associate Dean of the College
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 202
Grace E. Hawk
Katharine Lee Bates Professor Emeritus of English Literature
TRADITIONS 235
Barbara P. McCarthy
Ellen A. Kendall Professor Emeritus of Greek
THE GROUNDS 265
Harriet B. Creighton
Ruby H. R. Farwell Professor Emeritus of Botany
THE BUILDINGS 295
Jean Glasscock
THE GREAT FIRE 339
Katharine C. Balderston
Martha Hale Shackford Professor Emeritus of English Literature
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 35 1
Barbara P. McCarthy
Ellen A. Kendall Professor Emeritus of Greek
THE DEVELOPMENT OF WELLESLEYS
FINANCIAL RESOURCES 37°
Jean Glasscock
THE WELLESLEY COLLEGE ENDOWMENT 387
Henry A. Wood, Jr.
Former Treasurer of the College
THE ROLE OF THE TRUSTEES 392
John R. Quarles
Former Chairman of the Board of Trustees
WELLESLEY ALUMNAE IN THE WORLD 4°6
Joan Fiss Bishop
Director of the Career Services Office
THE ALUMNAE ASSOCIATION 439
Helen Swormstedt Mansfield
Former Executive Secretary of the Association
POSTSCRIPT 45 6
Jean Glasscock
INDEX 481
XI
The Authors
Katharine C. Balderston, Martha Hale Shackford Professor Emeritus
of English Literature, was almost foreordained to write a brilliant chap-
ter on the Great Fire of College Hall. She witnessed the event when she
was a sophomore; in her usually scholarly fashion, she not only carefully
examined all of the records at the College but corresponded with the
alumnae who had played key roles in sounding the alarm; because she
is a superb writer, she produced an unforgettable account of the holo-
caust. She holds the B.A. degree from Wellesley, the M.A. from Radcliffe,
and the Ph.D. from Yale. From the time she returned to Wellesley as a
young instructor in 1920 until she retired in 1960, she was equally re-
nowned as teacher and scholar.
Joan Fiss Bishop, Director of the Career Services Office and of its prede-
cessor, the Placement Office, since 1944, unquestionably has greater knowl-
edge than anyone else in the world about the interests and achievements
of Wellesley alumnae, and only she could have put them into proper
perspective. Widely known in vocational guidance and personnel admin-
istration circles through her leadership in many local, regional, and na-
tional organizations, Mrs. Bishop has received three special awards: from
the U.S. Civil Service Commission a Meritorious Service Award in 1959;
from the Harvard-Radcliffe Program in Business Administration in 1960
the first Roberts Award ever presented; from the Boston Chapter of the
American Society for Public Administration in 1966 the Distinguished
Public Citizen Award.
Maud Hazeltine Chaplin, Associate Dean of the College, was the presi-
dent of College Government in 1956, received the Ph.D. in intellectual
history at Brandeis University, and returned to Wellesley in 1968
as an assistant professor of History and a class dean and then was named
Dean of Studies. As an undergraduate she knew Wellesley in the 1950s, as
a class dean she was centrally involved in students' concerns in the late
1960s and the 1970s, and as an historian she relished researching the early
days of the College and writing about students then and now. While on
leave from Wellesley she held a Radcliffe Institute Fellowship, and on
her return on January 1, 1975, she assumed the new position of Associ-
ate Dean.
Harriet B. Creighton, Ruby F. H. Farwell Professor Emeritus of Botany,
has knowledge of the Wellesley campus that is unsurpassed and dates
from her arrival as a freshman in 1925. She received the Ph.D. in 1933
from Cornell University and taught at Connecticut College before return-
ing to Wellesley as an associate professor in 1940. Except for serving as
an officer in the WAVES, she remained at Wellesley until she retired in
1974 — although while on sabbatical leaves or during summer vacations
xn
THE AUTHORS
she was a Fulbright Lecturer in Genetics at Perth University, Australia,
and at the National University in Cuzco, Peru, and was a National Sci-
ence Foundation Consultant at institutes in Osmania, Hyderabad, and
Allahabad.
Jean Glasscock has enjoyed digging into Wellesley's history since her
days on the College News, of which she was editor in 1933. She was pub-
licity director of a Florida resort hotel for three years, and then was
Wellesley's first Susanna Whitney Hawkes Teaching Fellow in English
Composition and received the M.A. degree in 1938. Teaching English
in New York City, being publicity director of the Kansas State Fair, and
service as a WAVES officer in the Navy's Office of Public Relations in
Washington, D. C. preceded her return to Wellesley in 1946. She was
Director of Publicity and a member of the 75th Anniversary Fund Com-
mittee and of its successor, the National Development Fund Committee,
from 1946 until 1966, taught the journalism course in 1952-53, and was
Coordinator of Special Events from 1962, when the office was established,
until 1970. Since that time she has been the Centennial Historian.
Grace E. Hawk, Katharine Lee Bates Professor Emeritus of English
Literature, has long been interested in social problems and political con-
cerns. She received the B.A. from Pembroke College and the B.Litt. from
Oxford University, and in 1929 she came from Bryn Mawr to begin her
teaching career at Wellesley, which extended until she retired in 1961.
Her committee assignments included Service Fund, Service Organization,
and Christian Association. Also providing valuable background for her
chapter was her chairmanship of the comprehensive Self-Study of Extra-
curricular Activities made in 1953 with the support of the Ford Founda-
tion. After retiring from Wellesley she wrote a history of Pembroke Col-
lege which was published in 1966, its 75th anniversary.
Alice Stone Ilchman, Dean of the College, who also holds a joint ap-
pointment as Professor of Economics and Education, graciously agreed
to give her impression of the faculty which she found awaiting her when
she assumed her duties in 1973. She modestly entitled her chapter "A
Footnote to Keats Whiting." A 1957 graduate of Mount Holyoke College,
she has been a member of its Board of Trustees since 1970 and is now
Vice Chairman. She received the M .P. A. degree from the Maxwell School
of Citizenship and Public Affairs, Syracuse University, in 1958 and the
Ph.D. degree from the London School of Economics in 1965. From 1966
until she came to Wellesley, Mrs. Ilchman was at the University of Cali-
fornia (Berkeley) in teaching and administrative positions.
Barbara P. McCarthy, Ellen A. Kendall Professor Emeritus of Greek,
retired from Wellesley in 1970,- whereupon she was persuaded to be-
WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
come a visiting professor at Holy Cross College in Worcester and also
at Brandeis University in Waltham. She declared firmly in June 1974
that she was really retiring (and promptly in the fall began teaching
beginning Greek, purely for everyone's pleasure, to a few faculty mem-
bers on leave or retired). After graduating from Brown University in
1925, she studied for two years at the American School of Classical Study
in Athens, obtained her Ph.D. from Yale in 1929, and came to Wellesley
that fall. She was one of nineteen graduates of Brown cited in 1959 for
outstanding achievements in their chosen professions. She wrote two
lively chapters on subjects about which she knows a great deal; with equal
ease and competence she could have written many other chapters, and
she has been helpful in many aspects of this book.
Helen Swormstedt Mansfield has had as long-continuing associations
with Wellesley as anyone could possibly have had, and she probably
knows well (and can give maiden and married names and classes for)
more alumnae than anyone else living today. Her great-aunt, Annie God-
frey, was Wellesley's first librarian, her mother, Mabel Godfrey Sworm-
stedt, was graduated in 1890, she herself in 1918, and her daughter-in-law,
Patricia Cox Mansfield, in 1951. When Mrs. Mansfield retired in 1961,
she had been a caring, devoted member of the Alumnae Office staff for
thirty-two years and had been the Alumnae Secretary since 1944.
Virginia Onderdonk, Alice Freeman Palmer Professor Emeritus of Phi-
losophy and a former Dean of the College, was a member of the Cur-
riculum Committee for twelve years, serving two terms as an elected fac-
ulty representative and six years ex officio as Dean and Chairman of
the Committee. In addition, she was Chairman of the Faculty Long-
Term Educational Policy Committee which deliberated from 1943 until
1946 and whose recommendations resulted in a major revision of the
curriculum. Her experience as a faculty member from 1933 until 1973
and her chairmanship of the Philosophy Department also contributed
to her knowledge of curricular emphases and changes. A member of the
Class of 1929, Miss Onderdonk was president of College Government
her senior year. She was Dean of the Class of 1943, Acting Dean of the
Faculty in 1963-64, and Dean of the College from 1964 until 1968.
John R. Quarles wrote on "The Role of the Trustees" from the per-
spective of a lawyer (senior partner in the Boston firm of Ropes and
Gray), a director of many companies (and therefore very knowledge-
able about differences in the functions of directors and trustees), and a
trustee of a number of educational institutions and hospitals. President
of the New England Medical Center Hospital, a member of the Ad-
ministrative Board and Secretary of the Tufts-New England Medical
Center, and a member of the Board of the Boston Hospital for Women,
he has also been President of the Board of the Boston Lying-in Hospital
THE AUTHORS
and a member of the Board of the Harvard Medical Center. He was
formerly Chairman of the Board of Garland Junior College and a mem-
ber of the Boards of Lenox and of Noble and Greenough Schools. Elected
to membership on Wellesley's Board in 1958, he served as Vice Chairman
from 1959 to 1961 and as Chairman from 1961 to 1970, when he retired
and was named trustee emeritus.
Margaret E. Taylor, Helen J. Sanborn Professor Emeritus of Latin,
could view the founding and the early years of the College with an un-
usual degree of objectivity as well as a large fund of knowledge. A Vassar
graduate whose grandfather was president of Vassar and spoke at
Wellesley's Semi-Centennial Celebration, she was familiar with the his-
tory of the sister college ten years older than Wellesley. She also taught
at Mount Holyoke College before coming to Wellesley in 1936. Her M.A.
and Ph.D. degrees are from Yale University. At Wellesley she has been
noted not only for her teaching of Latin but of "The Interpretations of
Man in Western Literature," a course which she originated in 1946 and
continued to teach until she retired in 1967.
Ella Keats Whiting writes from an unparalleled knowledge since 1928
of the faculty as a body and as individuals, and with extraordinary ca-
pacity for dispassionate appraisal. Her own role at Wellesley has been
unique, as is indicated by her receiving on her retirement in 1961 an
honor unprecedented on such an occasion: the award of an LL.D. de-
gree. The citation reads: "Daughter of Vassar, Wellesley would also
claim you as daughter. For thirty-three years a builder at Wellesley as
professor of English and successively as class dean, Dean of Instruction,
and Dean of the College, you have made a deep imprint on the ideals
and standards of this College. Ability, humility, and unswerving devotion
to excellence have marked your path; your selfless counsel has been a
light for your colleagues in the Academic Council; and your guidance of
the curriculum has been masterly. Never have you lost sight of your goal:
to contribute to a world which, in your words, 'will be shaped by people
who in their college years have experienced both discipline and freedom
and who respect and value both.' "
Henry A. Wood, Jr., was Treasurer of the College and ex officio a mem-
ber of the Board of Trustees from 1950 until 1968. When he resigned as
treasurer in 1968, he was elected to membership as a regular trustee and
served until 1974. He was for many years a partner in Welch and Forbes,
believed to be the oldest fiduciary trustee office in the country. He re-
ceived the B.A. from Harvard in 1924 and the M.B.A. from the Harvard
Business School in 1926, and, after beginning his business career with
Lee Higginson and Co., became deputy treasurer of Harvard University
and during World War II followed Harvard's contracts with the Office of
Scientific Research and Development.
xv
College Hall, the original building of Wellesley College, seen across the campus and from Lake Waban
MARGARET E. TAYLOR
JEAN GLASSCOCK
The Founders
and the Early Presidents
Henry Fowle Durant, founder of Wellesley College, declared in a ser-
mon delivered in 1875, the opening year of the College: "The Higher
Education of Women is one of the great world battle cries for freedom,
for right against might. ... I believe that God's hand is in it; that it is
one of the great ocean currents of Christian civilization; that He is calling
to womanhood to come up higher, to prepare herself for great conflicts,
for vast reforms in social life, for noblest usefulness." His words illustrate
both the fervor the cause itself could arouse and something of the spirit
of the speaker.
The cause was vital; it was also controversial at this period, although
it had already won some staunch support and would soon win more. By
the end of the nineteenth century all of the colleges in the Seven College
Conference would be well established: Mount Holyoke opened as a semi-
nary in 1837 and officially became a college in 1893; Vassar opened in
1865; Wellesley, founded in 1870, and Smith, founded in 1871, opened
the same year, 1875; at Radcliffe, instruction by Harvard professors began
in 1879 and the Society for Collegiate Instruction of Women was orga-
nized in 1882; Bryn Mawr opened in 1885 and Barnard in 1889. Their
founders shared commitment to high educational standards combined
with moral and religious idealism. It is doubtful, however, that any of
these colleges except perhaps Mount Holyoke was as long and as deeply
imbued with the ideals and personality of its founder as was Wellesley.
Matthew Vassar was dedicated, but he was unprepared both by tempera-
ment and training to direct the needed planning and organization; the
founders of Smith and Bryn Mawr died before their colleges opened. Ada
Howard, Wellesley's first president, once recalled that, although she had
entered Mount Holyoke Seminary four years after Mary Lyon's death,
she could hardly believe that she had never known her, so vividly had her
presence continued to be felt. Certainly Mr. Durant's continued "pres-
2 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ence" at Wellesley was repeatedly demonstrated in reminiscences and
tributes that were expressed over the decades, notably in the commemo-
rative addresses delivered annually as long as anyone associated with the
College had personal recollections of him.
Henry Fowle Durant was born Henry Welles Smith and was de-
scended on both sides of the family from sturdy New England pioneers.
George Durant, who came from England to Connecticut in 1663, num-
bered among his descendants the wife of Captain John Fowle, officer in
the American Revolution, merchant in Watertown, Massachusetts. Cap-
tain and Mrs. Fowle had eight children, among them five remarkable
daughters whose beauty inspired a famous toast: "To the fair of every
town, and the Fowle of Watertown!" One married Samuel Welles (from
whose family the name "Wellesley" was derived), and they lived in Paris,
where after his death she became the wife of a French marquis and
moved in high diplomatic and social circles. Another daughter married
Benjamin Wiggin, a successful banker in London; later, after their return
to the United States, they provided a Boston home for her nephew Henry
Welles Smith. Harriet, described as the most intellectual of the Fowle
sisters, married a lawyer, William Smith. Some years later Jack Fowle, a
handsome brother of the beautiful sisters, married the glamorous Pauline
Cazenove. To anticipate a little, it should perhaps be mentioned at this
point that Pauline, the daughter of Jack and Pauline Fowle, and Henry,
the son of Harriet and William Smith, became Mr. and Mrs. Henry Fowle
Durant and the founders of the College.
William Smith and his bride lived at first in New Hampshire, where he
had been born of colonial and revolutionary forebears. His parents, pro-
prietors of a tavern in Franklin, were concerned about education, as was
indicated by that received by William and his sister, a pupil and ad-
mirer of Mary Lyon. This sister was the first teacher of her nephew
Henry, who was born in Hanover on February 20, 1822. His mother's
love of reading and learning also was important in his early develop-
ment, and she wrote happily to her sister Charlotte Wiggin about his
delight in books and his wish as a small child to have a library of his own.
The young boy was singularly fortunate in the teaching he received
from women. After his early schooling in Lowell, Massachusetts, to which
the family had moved, he was sent to a private school in Waltham; here
he received much of his preparation for college under the aegis of the ex-
traordinary Mrs. Samuel Ripley, at whose home he lived for three years.
Wife of a clergyman, an accomplished Greek scholar, a friend of Emer-
son, mother of seven, Mrs. Ripley was living proof of the intellectual as
well as what were regarded as the more conventional gifts and potentiali-
ties of women. She made a profound impression on the boy. He said in
later years, "I have seen her holding the baby, shelling peas, and listening
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 3
to a recitation in Greek, all at the same moment, without dropping an ac-
cent, or particle, or boy, or peapod, or the baby." He never lost his ad-
miration of her or his love of Greek.
After Harvard, to whose courses he was markedly indifferent (always ex-
cepting Greek), and to whose library he was forever grateful, he retained
a passionate love of literature and especially poetry, to which he would
have dedicated himself had not more practical considerations prevailed.
With his sensitivity to beauty, delight in nature, and capacity for intense
feeling, he was at first cold indeed to the charms of his chosen profession,
the law. Having been admitted to the bar of Middlesex County, Massa-
chusetts, at the age of twenty-one, eighteen months after leaving Harvard,
he wrote, "I have a right to bestow my tediousness on any court of the
Commonwealth, and they are bound to hear me." And hear him they
did. (It was when, after practicing with his father in Lowell for five years,
he moved to Boston in 1847 and found there eleven other lawyers with
the name of Smith, three of them Henry Smith and one besides himself
Henry W. Smith, that he changed his name, adopting the Fowle and
Durant family names.)
His legal success was nothing short of spectacular. He soon became as-
sociated as junior counsel with the distinguished Boston advocate Rufus
Choate, whose range and cultivation of mind as well as remarkable skills
in the courtroom provided a varied and stimulating education in them-
selves. An indefatigable worker, challenged to utmost efforts by complex
and difficult cases, Henry Durant employed and developed his brilliant
gifts and was a leading figure in the profession. He won his cases so con-
sistently that he was regarded with no little envy as well as admiration.
In 1863 a newspaper noted that if success were the criterion, "Mr. Durant
would rank as the greatest lawyer who ever practiced in this city." One
is tempted to quote further and to note the range of his interests as he
became increasingly free to choose his cases. In one famous instance, the
Eliot School case, he argued for the reading of the Bible in public schools;
in another he persuaded the jury that justice and common sense should
prevail over the technically-correct claims of a fire insurance company.
His skill in handling witnesses and appealing to juries in criminal trials
was famous. Happily for Wellesley College, one of his cases led to the
foundation of his fortune: after handling a claim for a rubber company,
he had the perspicacity to envision the future in vulcanized rubber and
took his legal fee in stock in the company. His business acumen was im-
pressive — another unexpected facet of this many-sided man who had
wanted to be a poet.
By 1850 he already had a practice of $10,000 a year, and his aunt Mrs.
Wiggin is reported to have regretted his "singular indifference to several
charming and eligible young ladies." It seems, however, that he had long
4 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
been attracted by his young cousin, Pauline Adeline Fowle, and she by
him. When at the age of eight she was visiting aunts in Boston, she "came
to know her cousin Henry, ten years her senior, and then a student in
Harvard. The poet-hearted young collegian, handsome, as became his
Fowle descent, won the friendship of the gentle child, whose appearance
at the time he afterwards tenderly pictured in verse." (So wrote in 1894
Katharine Lee Bates '80, Professor of English Literature, who had many
long conversations with Mrs. Durant.) The Fowle family bonds were
close, and the cousins continued to see each other from time to time. The
aunt in Paris wrote her sister in Boston to inquire about the seriousness
of Henry's interest in his young cousin; when Pauline and her mother
returned from Europe, Henry met their boat in New York. The letters
and poems which he wrote to her during the next year or so were de-
stroyed, alas, by Mrs. Durant not long before her death in 1917. We
know, however, that in November 1853 she agreed to marry him and that
the wedding took place on May 23, 1854.
Without question, Henry's bride was an extraordinary young woman
and had an unusual cultural background. Her grandfather, Antoine
Charles Cazenove, was a member of the Huguenot branch of a noble
French family of ancient lineage. After the revocation of the Edict of
Nantes, they moved to Geneva and established themselves as bankers,
"dropping their titles as inconsistent with a business career." Antoine
Cazenove spent three years in the family banking house in London and
returned to Geneva on the eve of the Jacobin Revolution. He, his father,
and his elder brother were among the leading citizens who were seized
by the mob and thrown into prison. The Cazenoves were acquitted and
released, "their reputation for goodness standing them in stead," ac-
cording to the story, but the brothers decided to escape to America. They
married two sisters from Baltimore who were of Scotch-Irish extraction
and were exceptionally well educated for the women of their day. (Mrs.
Durant's grandmother was an excellent Latin scholar, having been taught
by her father, who was considered an eminent teacher, and she was widely
read in literature and history.) The young Swiss refugee Antoine Cazenove
is said to have carried the first millstones across the Alleghenies to estab-
lish flour mills in the backwoods of western Pennsylvania and to have
built the first glassworks in the country in Uniontown. John Jacob Astor
offered him a partnership in a fur venture, but he decided to become a
shipping merchant and to make the family home in Alexandria, Virginia.
After attending schools there, the five Cazenove daughters were sent to
Mme. Greleaud's boarding school in Philadelphia "for the accomplish-
ments" and the five sons to Geneva to complete their education. On a
visit to Boston in the winter of 1830, Pauline Cazenove met Major Fowle,
and they were married in May of 1831.
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 5
Their daughter Pauline was born in Alexandria on June 13, 1832, and
at the age of three months was taken on a very rugged journey to the
frontier wilds of Sault Ste. Marie, where her father was stationed — and
her mother, with characteristic observation and concern, protested the
treatment of the Indians. The family moved further west the following
year to Fort Dearborn, Chicago, a village of only three hundred inhabit-
ants — including soldiers, Indians, fur traders, and trappers. On the first
Sunday Major Fowle had the carpenter's shop swept out and furnished
with seats; it was said that "from this humble yet appropriate origin
sprang the earliest church of Chicago." The major was soon assigned to
duty at West Point, a prestigious and pleasant post, and another daugh-
ter and a son were born during the four years the family happily lived
there. Then he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel and or-
dered to Florida to take command of a regiment in the Seminole Indian
Wars. The steamboat on which he embarked at Cincinnati exploded when
the vessel was pushed beyond its capacity, and Colonel Fowle was one of
the victims of the disaster. Within three years the two younger children
also died. Mrs. Fowle relied more and more on her daughter Pauline, who
accepted the responsibility with unusual competence and maturity. She
also shared her mother's social concerns; her earliest extant letter, written
when she was nine, listed the achievements of a Virginia Institute for the
Blind which she had visited. Her own education was not neglected: she
attended a private school in Alexandria, and at home she learned "music
and drawing, fine sewing, elaborate cooking, and all the domestic arts."
Then she was sent to a French boarding school in New York, where her
training was rigorous and her French became fluent — and also, at the age
of fifteen, wrote an extraordinary document wholeheartedly dedicating
herself to God and the Christian life. When she was eighteen her mother
took the beautiful young girl to Europe for two years. In Southern France
she visited her aunt, now the Marchioness Valette; she also won admira-
tion in social and diplomatic circles in Rome, where she was known as "la
bella Americana," in Geneva, and in Paris. But, despite the distractions
of social life in Paris, she found time to visit prisons there.
Doubtless her early training in sewing for the poor, reading to the
blind, .and visiting prisons, together with the example her mother had
set for her in giving service as well as money, made it natural and almost
inevitable for Mrs. Durant to be deeply involved in social activities after
her marriage. The Dedham Asylum, the Bridgewater Workhouse, and
the Boston jail were among her early "causes," and she later served for
seven years on the advisory board of the Massachusetts Prison Commis-
sion. She took the lead in organizing the Boston YWCA, which had as a
major goal the serving of interests of young women who were alone and
supporting themselves, often far from home, and she was the president of
6 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
its board for many years. "For 39 years she gave of her time and money
. . . a most wonderful executive officer," reads part of an impressive
tribute to her from the YWCA after her death. She also served as a trustee
of various educational institutions, among them the American College for
Girls in Constantinople. But of all her concerns Wellesley College was
paramount from the time she and Mr. Durant began planning for it until
her death some fifty years later.
After Mr. and Mrs. Durant were married in 1854, his legal career and
financial investments continued to flourish and, as is attested by their
friends in Boston who later became friends of the College, they took a
prominent part in civic and social affairs. Their first Boston home was
at the corner of Bowdoin and Allston Streets; then in 1860 they moved to
77 Mount Vernon Street, and in 1868 to 30 Marlborough Street. The
year after their marriage they bought the farm cottage now known as
Homestead and spent their summers in what was known as the "cool
countryside of Wellesley." A son, young Harry, was born in the spring
of 1855, and a daughter, Pauline Cazenove, in the fall of 1857. When
little Pauline died at the age of six weeks, Mrs. Durant found consolation
in her strong Christian faith and was saddened by the fact that Mr. Du-
rant did not find solace in religion. Instead, he rapidly reread Scott's
Waverley novels, saying to his wife, "You must take your medicine in
your way, and I must take mine in mine."
They concentrated their affection and ambition on their son, who was
described as "an exquisite child of rare intellectual promise." His parents
acquired a total of three hundred acres of land bordering on Lake Waban
and planned for him a great country estate. Then the eight-year-old boy
died of diphtheria on July 3, 1863. Although his death occurred in their
Boston home, hastily opened so that they could more easily obtain the
services of the best doctors in the city, the farmhouse where the family
had lived in Wellesley was so filled with memories of Harry that they
could not bear to return to it. Instead, they bought the Webber residence,
which is now the President's House.
The surpassing importance of Harry's death was that it precipitated a
dramatic turning point in the life of Henry Durant. He had a religious
conversion in the evangelical sense. He surely considered himself a Chris-
tian already; certainly he attended church, and in the Eliot School case
he had publicly defended Christian ideals as basic to America's hopes and
social structure. His conversion did not involve new intellectual concepts.
It was rather an intense and emotional dedication of his whole life to
Christ's work as he saw it — a dedication such as Mrs. Durant had made
as a young girl and had longed to have him share. Half-way measures were
unknown to Mr. Durant, and he immediately abandoned his law prac-
tice. "The law and the gospel are irreconcilable," he maintained. With
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 7
characteristic decisiveness, he sold his law library and destroyed valuable
volumes of Restoration drama that had been part of his cherished and
impressive library.
Mr. and Mrs. Durant acquired a home in New York City in 1864. He
cared for his investments and business projects, but he gave much time to
intensive study of the Bible — text, translations, and commentaries. The
pastor of their Presbyterian church, Dr. Howard Crosby, later the Chan-
cellor of the University of the City of New York, became his close and
sympathetic friend, and soon Mr. Durant was speaking at religious meet-
ings. It was not long before he received invitations to preach. He chose
to remain a layman despite some urgings that he take a formal theological
course, and in the ensuing years he was much in demand. The passion
and eloquence which had contributed to his success at the bar were
equally effective in his revivalist sermons. Contemporary accounts noted:
"He treated sinners as criminals to be converted before the bar of their
own consciences, pressed the indictment home with the same vehemence
[as in the courtroom] . . . and always succeeded in getting some sort of
verdict." "He made people believe that he really valued their souls; he
met them on a level of human brotherhood." He succeeded as he had in
the law, winning converts who were distinguished as well as humble,
Henry Wilson, a future Vice President of the United States, among them.
In the following years he was much sought after as a lay preacher in
communities throughout New England. It was probably inevitable that
some of his old associates and rivals should be skeptical. Long afterwards
one of them said, "I perceived that if I depicted Mr. Durant as Wellesley
knew him, Boston would laugh; if as Boston knew him, Wellesley would
weep." And yet as one reads the accumulated evidence in his own writings
and those of others closely associated with him, it becomes impossible to
question the depth and sincerity of his new dedication; it was central in
his plans and hopes for the College which became the focus of his great
gifts of mind and energy.
During the first years after the death of their son, Mr. and Mrs. Durant
were pondering the best use they could make of their lives and their for-
tune. According to Katharine Lee Bates, only a few months after their
painful loss, Mr. Durant had said to his wife, "Wouldn't you like to con-
secrate these Wellesley grounds, this place that was to have been Harry's
home, to some special work for God?" It appears that they gave careful
thought to several possible projects, including a boys' school and an
orphan asylum, and that education was central in all of them. Mr. Du-
rant's conviction of its basic importance in the world, even of America's
special mission to advance it, was nothing sudden. In an address, "The
American Scholar," at Bowdoin College he had said, "It is our faith that
national greatness has its only enduring foundation in the intelligence and
8 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
integrity of the whole people. It is our faith that our institutions approach
perfection only when every child can be educated and elevated to the
station of a free and intelligent citizen." In the end came a momentous
decision, the resolve to found a college for women.
There were factors, both in the private and public spheres, that directed
the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Durant to the education of women. We
have referred to the extraordinarily able women who had contributed so
much to his education. He was also deeply impressed by the ideals and
achievements of Mount Holyoke, where he had visited and preached and
of which in 1867 he had become a trustee. "There cannot be too many
Mount Holyokes," he was quoted as saying. Mrs. Durant, who had wished
to attend the seminary instead of the French finishing school in New
York, contributed $10,000 to its library in 1868. And, as the opening quo-
tation from Mr. Durant's sermon indicates, the cause of higher education
for women was an issue of lively controversy. Some people felt deep ap-
prehension over the perils to woman's body, mind, and soul that lurked
in the new proposals. A distinguished Boston physician warned that
"woman's brain was too delicate and fragile a thing to attempt the mas-
tery of Greek and Latin," and an influential matron stated that "Our doc-
tor says that there will be two insane asylums and three hospitals for
every woman's college." Others were equally deeply committed to the
rights of woman and to faith in her intellectual capabilities. Arguments
waxed loud as well as eloquent. The biting scorn of the liberal writer and
editor Lyman Abbott anticipated a familiar polemic of today: "The
Turkish conception of women's position ... is founded on the notion
that woman was made for man, and is to be educated only that she may
be a more useful servant or prettier plaything. It involves the notion that
the end of woman's education is wifehood; and the ideal of wifehood is
a skillful cook in the kitchen, or a lively ornament in the parlor." The
defense was often imbued with a certain romantic idealization: "I believe
in the uplift of woman because it means the uplift of humanity."
Along with perennial pros and cons that were heard well into our own
century (and echoes of which are still audible), a special development in
the 1860s had an important impact at the time of the Durants' decision.
The Civil War had removed thousands of men teachers from the secondary
schools of the country. The positions were necessarily filled by women,
especially young women often pitifully unprepared for their tasks. How-
ever, an increasing number of them now had time to prepare to teach.
President Seelye pointed out in his inaugural address at Smith in 1875
that as spinning wheel and distaff had been supplanted by factories and
sewing machines, young women had gained more hours for study. But
the opportunities were hard to come by. Mount Holyoke, although still
a seminary, offered work of high standard, some on a college level, and
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 9
was turning away many aspirants each year for lack of room; Vassar and
the few coeducational colleges and universities could not possibly fill the
need. "I am satisfied that there is no way in which direct and continually
productive good can be done in our own day better than in helping to
educate Christian women teachers," Mr. Durant wrote in 1871.
The decision to educate young women was made by Mr. and Mrs. Du-
rant in 1867. The institution was to bear the name "Wellesley," which
their neighbor Horatio Hollis Hunnewell had given to his estate in
honor of his wife, who had been a Welles. (It has already been observed
that there were marriage connections between the Fowle and Welles
families.) Thus the name belonged to the College as well as to the Hun-
newell estate before it did to the town, which, on separating from West
Needham in 1881, took the name as a tribute to Mr. Hunnewell, its great-
est benefactor. The Durants immediately set to work planning every
aspect of the College. First came the landscaping of the grounds which
Miss Creighton describes for us. Before consulting an architect for the
building, they visited other colleges and determined many of the specifi-
cations — even the height of the risers which Mrs. Durant, after walking
up and down hundreds of steps, considered most suitable for young
ladies. And after they selected Hammatt Billings of Boston as the archi-
tect, Mr. Durant informed him that there would be no competitive bid-
ding on contracts and, in fact, no contractors in the usual sense of the
term — it would be built by "day's work." "I shall be there every day and
all day," Mr. Durant assured him. "It will be built right."
Probably no building of the magnitude of College Hall — which is
described on pages 340-342 — has ever been built with the constant, caring
supervision which Mr. and Mrs. Durant gave. He was on the site across
the lake from his own house every morning at seven, overseeing every-
thing; Mrs. Durant too was a daily visitor. Because he hired and paid
the men (and seems to have had no great difficulty in obtaining them),
he could impose what must have been unusual requirements: no pro-
fanity, loud talking, or quarreling. It is clear that the workmen and the
Durants respected each other, and they doubtless learned much from
each other. A letter written a few days after the College opened by Mary
Burnham, a teacher of English, provides a remarkable insight into the
effect the experience may have had upon Mr. Durant. She wrote: "I can
readily see how, at Mount Holyoke and elsewhere, he should be known
only as a sensational preacher, but here, although he has had charge of
chapel exercises nearly every morning, his talks have been brief, pointed,
and practical: I have enjoyed them very much. It may be that his daily
contact with mechanics, plumbers, and all sorts of workmen has been a
spiritual benefit to him. He certainly seems a very genuine and very
practical Christian."
lO WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Only the workmen were present when Mrs. Durant on August 13, 1871,
laid the first foundation stone of College Hall in the northeast corner and
on September 14 the cornerstone in the northwest end of the foundation.
On the second occasion she presented each workman with a Bible, giving
a copy of the King James version to each Protestant and a copy of the
Douay version to each Catholic (an indication, incidentally, that the Du-
rants knew the workmen well enough to be aware of their religious de-
nominations). On the fly-leaves of the brown leather Bible tooled in gold
which Mrs. Durant placed in the cornerstone she first inscribed in purple
ink: "This building is humbly dedicated to our Heavenly Father with
the hope and prayer that He may always be first in everything in this in-
stitution; that His word may be faithfully taught here; and that He will
use it as a means of leading precious souls to the Lord Jesus Christ." Then
followed, also in her handwriting, two passages of Scripture: I Chronicles
29:11-16, and Psalm 127:1, "Except the Lord build the house, they labor
in vain that build it." (Many years later the same verse from Psalms was
carved in Latin in stone on Green Hall, the present administration build-
ing.)
But the grounds and the building were not the only concerns of the
Durants in establishing the College. On March 17, 1870, the Massachu-
setts legislature authorized the incorporation of the Wellesley Female
Seminary and Governor William Claflin signed the charter. (A little less
than three years later, on March 7, 1873, the legislature approved the
change of name to Wellesley College.) The original members of the cor-
poration (who, as Mr. Quarles points out in the chapter on the role of
the trustees, informally became known as trustees) were Mr. and Mrs.
Durant and six of their friends. Two were Boston businessmen: Governor
Claflin and Abner Kingman. The others were clergymen, two of them
also associated with educational institutions. The Rev. Dr. Howard
Crosby, Chancellor of the University of the City of New York, was Mr.
Durant's close friend and adviser in the New York years; the Rev. Dr.
Austin Phelps was a professor at Andover Newton Theological Seminary
as well as minister of the Pine Street Congregational Church in Boston.
The Rev. Dr. Edward N. Kirk was minister of the Mount Vernon Church
in Boston, and the Rev. Dr. N. G. Clark was Secretary of the American
Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. Their "organizational"
meeting was held on April 16, 1870, at the Durants' home in Boston.
By the fall of the year the College opened, thirteen additional trustees
had been elected. Three were women, three were businessmen who lived
in the Boston area. The other seven were clergymen, five of them also
prominently connected with educational institutions: the Presidents of
Boston, Yale, and Wesleyan Universities, the Dean of the Episcopal Theo-
logical Seminary, and a professor at Newton Theological Seminary. (It
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 1 1
should be pointed out that they represented several different denomina-
tions; it was explicitly stated in the Statutes that while the trustees were
to be church members, there should never be a majority in any denomi-
nation.) As Florence Morse Kingsley '80, Mr. Durant's biographer, wrote,
"These names must have furnished the strong endorsement public opin-
ion is prone to demand."
Mr. Quarles gives a lucid, succinct account of the part the early trustees
played (and didn't play) during Mr. Durant's lifetime. Although at the
annual meeting in 1873 a committee composed of Mr. and Mrs. Durant
and the Rev. Dr. Clark was appointed to select the teachers and a second
committee, on which Mr. Durant and the Rev. Dr. Kirk served, to pre-
pare and submit a curriculum, it is obvious that all important decisions
were made by the Durants. (Miss Burnham in the letter mentioned previ-
ously wrote of Mr. Durant: "He says he has no more power than any
other of the trustees, that he is here only to see to the finishing of the
building; but a father could as easily forsake his own child as Mr. D.
this college, and I think it is well for us that it is so.") Certainly his was
the decision that both men and women should serve as trustees but only
women as teachers and administrators. "Women can do the work. I give
them the chance," was his phrase. He believed that only women faculty
members could prove, both to the students and to the outside world, the
much-debated thesis of women's intellectual powers. In this, as in other
matters, he was as independent, indeed, radical, as he was determined.
Obviously he could not expect to find the requisite number of women
with advanced degrees, experience or promise as teachers, and willingness
to serve. In the chapter on the faculty Miss Whiting describes the prob-
lems and solutions concerning them, but here we should consider those
relating to the president — who would be the first woman college president
in the world.
The committee to select teachers reported to the Trustees that Miss
Ada L. Howard had been appointed "President of the Faculty and of the
various Professors and Teachers." She had seemed to Mr. Durant an an-
swer to prayer, a woman of considerable experience and achievement,
who shared his ideals for the College as well as his Christian faith. Like
Mr. Durant, she had been born in New Hampshire. Three of her great-
grandfathers were officers during the Revolution; her father was consid-
ered "a good scholar and an able teacher as well as a scientific agricultur-
ist" and her mother "a gentlewoman of sweetness, strength, and high
womanhood." She was graduated from Mount Holyoke Seminary in 1849
(in her later life Mount Holyoke College awarded her a Litt.D.), taught
at Western College in Oxford, Ohio, and was the principal of the
Woman's Department of Knox College in Rockford, Illinois. She had a
private school of her own, Ivy Hall, in Bridgeton, New Jersey, which she
12 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
gave up in 1875 to become Wellesley's first president, at least in name.
Mr. Durant's intellectual vitality, imagination, and rigorous standards
were perhaps most evident in his paramount concerns: the faculty, the
curriculum, and the equipment of various kinds which would best facili-
tate the teaching and learning. Miss Onderdonk describes the courses
of study, methods of instruction, and equipment in the sciences and
certain other departments which, as she shows, were startlingly far in
advance of the times. Suffice it to give here only a few examples of his
primary emphases. He was determined that science should have a more
significant role than was the case in most colleges; Wellesley was the sec-
ond institution in the United States, the first after the Massachusetts In-
stitute of Technology, to have student laboratory work as a part of the
course in physics. Teachers of English were to have available works in
Old Icelandic and other early languages, to "work at the root of things."
Mr. Durant realized the importance of archeology to students of Classics
and procured for them all of the books that were available. In all areas,
as one of the first students wrote, he was insistent on "thorough, first-
hand, original works." Especially revealing is his correspondence with
Louise Manning Hodgkins, one of the early professors of English Litera-
ture: "the first object is to awaken the love for true books ... to bring
them [the students] much in contact with the great ones of the earth." In
outlining his scheme for four years' study of literature, he suggested that
the junior year be given especially to the "kingly ones," Homer, Dante,
and Shakespeare. In a letter written the summer before he died to a
teacher offering her a position, his fervor showed no diminution: "If you
say yes, the college shall have the best working library on Dante in the
country."
Libraries, and above all those of Wellesley College (he seems to have
regarded them in the plural, with the several areas of study in mind),
were central in Mr. Durant's plans. We have referred to his wish expressed
as a child to have a library of his own, also to his delight in Harvard's.
The nucleus of a substantial collection of his own had come from his
aunt Mrs. Wiggin, who had not only bequeathed books but also $7,000
with which to buy more. He purchased much of the library of Rufus
Choate, the highly cultivated lawyer with whom he had been associated,
and he continued to collect. To the end of his life he kept in touch with
agents in England and the United States, and his discriminating care can
be seen in his notations on printed sale catalogues now kept in the Rare
Book Room of the Margaret Clapp Library. Perhaps the gift to the Col-
lege which he most enjoyed making — and one which is greatly cherished
today — was his collection of more than 10,000 volumes. They included
many valuable and rare editions; early editions of the English poets were
among his favorites. He felt that something precious could be conveyed
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 13
by an old and beautiful book beyond its content, and his ability to evoke
similar appreciation in students is suggested by an extract from a stu-
dent's journal. In an entry made early on November 20, 1875, she wrote
that "our beautiful library was opened last evening," mentioned espe-
cially the "sumptuously bound and very old and rare autographed vol-
umes which Mr. Durant had given," and added that "the girls presented
him with eight hundred dollars which they have collected." The literary
collections were indeed impressive and the Founder's special delight. But
he also placed unusual emphasis on contemporary journals, reviews, lead-
ing newspapers, and magazines in every field of serious concern. There
was a special "reading room" for them, and a magazine article in 1880
referred to them as "superior to any college collection we know of."
Among the preparations for the opening of the College there was, of
course, the necessity to attract students. And of course Mr. Durant himself
wrote the first Circular, which was issued in December 1874 to announce
plans for the new college. Characteristically, he made no reference to
the Founders — and, in fact, refused to permit mention of them in any
publicity. Following the names of the Trustees and general information
about requirements for admission, courses of study, and expenses, the
main text began: "The Board of Trustees propose to open Wellesley Col-
lege for students in September, 1875. Their wish is to offer to young
women opportunities for education equivalent to those usually provided
in colleges for young men. The instruction will be Christian in its in-
fluence, discipline, and course of instruction."
Finally, after eight years of initiating and implementing plans for the
College, the opening day, September 8, 1875, arrived. Despite the fact
that more than four years had been devoted to building and furnishing
College Hall, the work was not completely finished. A dozen faculty mem-
bers and half a dozen students who had arrived a few days earlier were
immediately pressed into service by Mr. Durant; apparently they were
happy to join him in overseeing workmen, checking supplies and furnish-
ings, and doing all of the assorted chores that remained to be done. (It
is worthy of note that Miss Howard, who had been ill for more than a
week and had been staying at the Durants' house, was not well enough to
be of' any assistance until the opening day.) One of the teachers vividly
described the situation on September 8: "You can imagine what a scene
of confusion the building presented when you remember that the work-
men were still here in every part of it, gas men putting up fixtures, plumb-
ers at work in the bath rooms, oilers still finishing up the wood work,
furniture men hanging mirrors in the bureaus, while here and there on
every floor you might see, hurrying, skurrying along, a teacher or a girl
armed with a lamp, a slop pail or a wash bowl which she was rushing
around to get settled in its proper place. ... I think at least a thousand
14 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
people came to the house that day. Nearly 300 girls came, and it seemed
as if the father, mother, and all the uncles, aunts, and cousins of every
girl came with her. Very many people came, supposing there were to be
public services of dedication; others came to see the building, and alto-
gether, there was a perfect rush of people. My duty that day was to sit
beside Miss Howard in the reception room, take the names of the girls as
they presented themselves, and after Miss H. had assigned their rooms, to
make a note of them, and keep a list of names and rooms to be sent to
the baggage room that the girls' trunks might be sent to their proper
places. And such an array of trunks! Almost every girl brought two, and
one poor thing had five! I wish I could give you a picture of that reception
room. Miss H. and I sat by a table in the centre, while the newcomers with
their parents and friends crowded around. Sometimes anxious mothers
wanted a few private words with Miss H., and while she bent her head
to listen, and I stopped writing, some gentleman would thrust his card
into my hand saying, 'Won't you please have my daughter attended to
next; I want to take that train.' — 'And I too.' — 'And I.' were the re-
sponses from various quarters until I had, often at one time, eight or ten
on hand, all courteous and polite but all extremely anxious to have their
turn come. Of course we had no time for dinner but stayed there till
the rush was over."
And so Wellesley College opened on the appointed day. The following
morning Dr. Howard Crosby, whose daughter Agnes was one of the stu-
dents, conducted a very simple dedication service in the chapel, and place-
ment examinations began. Although the first Circular had anticipated the
need for a preparatory department "for the present," the proportion
requiring further study must have been disappointing: of the 314 students
who had been admitted, only thirty were found to be fully qualified for
college work. Wellesley's experience was of course not unique. Vassar
maintained a preparatory department for some years longer than Welles-
ley did, while Smith took the heroic course of no compromise and as a
result opened in 1875 with only fourteen students, the other applicants
having failed to meet its standards.
The personal involvement of the Founders was so great in all areas
of the life of the College that every chapter in this history is concerned
to some degree with the Durants. Here we propose to mention only a few
of the ways in which their tastes and their views shaped the College.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Durant saw beauty of nature and of man's handi-
work as vital aids to the intellectual, moral, and spiritual aspiration they
hoped to foster. They even planted flowers, especially wildflowers, in such
profusion that they hoped there would be enough for everyone to pick.
Their imagination, endless labor, and concern for the smallest details
were revealed everywhere in the physical surroundings: rooms comfort-
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 15
ably equipped with carpets and black walnut furniture, Wedgwood
china in the dining room, paintings and sculpture in the center corridors
and public rooms of College Hall. But they had no intention of designing
a life of sybaritic ease. The example of Mount Holyoke was followed,
and a daily domestic chore, supposedly requiring an hour a day, was
assigned to every student. This was intended to provide domestic training,
to help obliterate indications of differences in affluence (Mr. Durant more
than once refused parents' requests that they be allowed to pay a higher
fee to free their daughters from their tasks), to develop a sense of "mu-
tual interdependence," as he put it, to enhance the appreciation of beau-
tiful objects by caring for them, and, finally, to save money and thereby
reduce the fee. The Founders were deeply concerned that Wellesley should
not be a college for the wealthy and privileged; Mr. Durant frequently
expressed his preference for the "calico" girl over the "velvet" girl. The
fees were deliberately kept low (and Mr. Durant made up the deficit from
his own pocket). To encourage poor and able applicants, Mrs. Durant
in 1878 was instrumental in establishing the Students' Aid Society. (It
should be added that almost to the end of her life she strove valiantly
to keep fees low and to seek gifts for her "worthy" girls, as she called
them.) Mr. Durant, to assist the Teacher Specials and other students in
earning their livelihood, founded in 1878 a Teachers' Registry (the fore-
runner of today's Career Services Office), the first of its kind in the coun-
try.
In an era in which pallor, delicacy, susceptibility to fainting, tight
lacing, and tiny waists were in fashion, Mr. Durant was a crusader. He
put health as the second among "the five great essentials" in higher edu-
cation and called on students to be "reformers and preachers of the new
evangel of health." An hour a day was specified for exercise — although it
might be spent in what were for those days novel as well as conventional
ways. Mr. Durant provided an English tennis court, the first in the area,
but is said to have found many students reluctant to take "such very
violent exercise"; he also took pride in offering opportunities for boating
on the lake in very safe vessels which were, however, unusual and a de-
light to the students. For exercise indoors, there was in College Hall a
gymnasium, with the best equipment he could buy. There was of course
walking, and he did not for a moment confuse it with a quiet stroll to
commune with nature, much as he approved the latter.
Mr. Durant's love of poetry was evidenced in various ways. His taste
extended to the "moderns," and Longfellow's visits to the campus were
memorable. Many other distinguished men of letters were invited to lec-
ture and read, Holmes and Whittier among them. Mr. Durant sometimes
found kindred spirits in the poets' alcove in the library and searched
out some of his favorite poems to read with them. Katharine Lee Bates
l6 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
'80 was one of a small group who banded together to pursue the Muse
with their own creative efforts; their solemn affirmation that they were
prepared meanwhile to allow some time for reading the "other poets" led
to the sobriquet "O.P.s." The fact that they happily read their youthful
effusions to Mr. Durant, that he criticized and encouraged them sympa-
thetically, is further evidence of his personal role in the college life.
"Mr. Durant rules the college, from the amount of Latin we shall read
to the kind of meat we shall have for dinner," Elizabeth Stilwell, the first
president of the first class and the first president of the Missionary So-
ciety, wrote her family. A student's journal of 1875 was even more ex-
plicit: "First of course comes the father of the College, Mr. Durant, the
leading spirit and the motive power; active and vivacious, he seems al-
ways flitting along the corridors, bound on some errand, for he is in
touch with everything in the life of the place, from the dinner menu and
the dish-washing, through examinations, sports and the decoration of
rooms, to the students' spiritual welfare; with his keen questioning eyes,
sweet smile, and pleasant greeting, he seems the parent of us all. . . ."
And yet we must always bear in mind his insistence that Wellesley was
"God's college," not his. Religious dedication was always central in the
ideal of both of the Founders. "Education without religion is a wayless
night without a star, a dead world without a sun," Mr. Durant once said, as
recalled by an early student. In his notable "Defense of the Use of the
Bible in the Public Schools" in 1859, he had argued, long before his own
conversion, that religion is the only solid basis of morality, that morality
must be the concern of schools, that Christianity is basic to our country's
institutions and that therefore knowledge of the Bible is imperative. The
importance of educating Christian women teachers, conviction of the
truths as well as moral inspiration to be found in reading the Scriptures,
the basic thesis that Christian values are essential to the nation and
should be fostered in its educational institutions — those views of Mr.
Durant were in harmony with the thinking of most of the founding
fathers of the period. Matthew Vassar had written to the trustees of his
college in 1861: "most important of all . . . the all-sufficient rule of
Christian faith and practice." Smith's Chairman of the Board of Trustees
stated of that institution, "Without being sectarian, it will be radically,
vitally, thoroughly Christian." The founder of Bryn Mawr required stu-
dents to be taught Christian doctrines very explicitly "as accepted by the
Friends." But in the case of Wellesley, the fervor of evangelical faith
brought its own added emphasis and color. Mr. Durant had experienced
the kind of transformation that brings certainty that here is the truth and
here only. A sermon preached early in the first term of the college year
made this position entirely clear, and also his awareness of and scorn
for the arguments for secularism, tolerance, or skepticism. (He once in
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 17
another context spoke of the danger lying in "an unreflecting and timid
fear of intolerance.") He asked, "What is religious truth?" and replied,
"What answer can there be but in the Great Protestant Faith?"
This fervor led inevitably to religious orientation in the whole college
program, to the daily prayers, two quiet periods of twenty minutes each
for meditation, daily and Sunday study of the Scriptures, and two chapel
services on Sunday. At first all members of the faculty were expected to
belong to an Evangelical church and to share in the teaching of the short
daily Bible classes, which were less rigorous than the ones on Sunday.
"Paramount to every other qualification in a teacher is that of vital
Christianity," Mr. Durant once wrote. He was personally concerned also
about the spiritual state of individual students and, according to legend,
was capable of challenging an unsuspecting freshman with an alarming
inquiry as to whether she had been "saved." Contemporary letters and
later reminiscences of alumnae bear ample testimony to the impact of
the fervent religious faith of the Founders. Thirty years after her gradu-
ation one put it thus: "Christ was to be first in everything at Wellesley,
but it was a Christ strictly interpreted as he saw Him. And why not? All
this was the tonic positiveness of a reformer. It roused instant opposition
in the minds of students of the same temper, but it was a very pillar of
fire to those willing to be led." Katharine Lee Bates '80 recalled some
forty-five years after her graduation how torn she was: "I loved his po-
etic side, but his fanaticism drove me out of church and theology for all
time." In the same interview, after noting changes in the College she
said, "What we have put from us is external; what we keep of our
founder is his zest for true learning, his ardent love of beauty, his devotion
to the service of God through his service of mankind." And her state-
ments properly suggest the complexity of the picture. Had Mr. Durant
been a truly fanatical evangelist, there would have been no room for
the intellectual range and awareness he possessed. While he regarded his
college as "God's" and said many times that he would rather see it in
ashes than untrue to its Christian purpose, he was passionate in his love
of learning and a radical in his faith in women.
Miss Bates's recollection of him as a person as she knew him in her
student days is also memorable: "He was terrible in his anger and his
scorn, imperious in his decisions, irresistible in his enthusiasms, be-
nignant in his kindness, radiant in his mirth. As a playmate he had no
peer. . . ." We are fortunate in having one picture that somehow es-
caped his stern refusal to have his likeness anywhere displayed. It conveys
something of the beauty, sensitivity, intellectual vitality, and spiritual
fervor of which his contemporaries spoke. "If you could have known
him — even once have seen him," Louise McCoy North 79 wrote years
later, "that straight, lithe figure, slender yet commanding, the finely cut
l8 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
features, the beautiful white hair, the eyes dark and piercing, the mouth
firm, yet sensitive, now stern with an earnestness almost ascetic, now il-
luminating his whole countenance with a wonderful smile."
Miss Hodgkins, a professor of English Literature from 1877 until 1891
with whom he corresponded and talked about teaching, told a lovely story
that revealed his dream of a university and his eager and imaginative
spirit: " 'It is not for today,' he was accustomed to say, 'that we are plan-
ning our work.' I recall one sunny morning when, walking with a friend
on the college grounds, he stopped and said as his eye took in the beauti-
ful elevations in the immediate vicinity of the college: 'Do you see what
I see?' Few were capable of seeing all that those prophetic eyes found in
any horizon. 'No,' was the quiet answer. 'Then I will tell you'; and speak-
ing as under a vision he continued: 'On that hill an Art School; and
just beyond that, an Observatory; at the furthest right a Medical College;
and just here in the center a new stone chapel, built as the college out-
grew the old one. Yes, this will all be some time — but I shall not be here.' "
He lived little more than six years after that memorable opening day in
1875. He had continued to work tirelessly and relentlessly, choosing to
ignore for more than a year the illness which the college physician, Dr.
Emily Jones, had correctly diagnosed as Bright's disease. In addition to
his labors for the College, he had another serious problem during that
period. A defalcation had taken place in the rubber company in which
he was involved, and he was determined that no creditor should lose
because of it. Week after week he worked all day in Wellesley or Boston,
took the night train to New York, worked there all day, and returned to
Boston on the night train. Not long before he died on October 3, 1881, in
his house at Wellesley where he could look across the lake at the College,
he gave Mrs. Durant messages for the faculty and students. Then he said,
"Tell Horsford I love him very tenderly."
The words are touching and also very natural when one remembers
that Eben Norton Horsford was Mr. Durant's closest friend. After the
Durants themselves, he was unquestionably the most important figure in
the first formative years of the College, and as such, surely merits an im-
portant place in Wellesley's history. One can readily understand why the
two men so thoroughly enjoyed each other's company and engaged in so
many projects together.
Professor Horsford's father, a missionary to the Indians as a young man
and a Congressman later in life, was one of the first scientific farmers in
upstate New York. Eben Horsford received a degree in civil engineering
at the new Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, a medical degree
from a school at Castleton, Vermont, and studied in Giessen, Germany, in
Liebig's laboratory, said to be the first chemical laboratory for students
ever opened in Germany. (There is some evidence to suggest that this ex-
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS ig
perience led him to interest Mr. Durant in establishing student labora-
tories at Wellesley.) From Liebig he learned about the use of phosphates,
and he subsequently concocted "the acid phosphate" and Horsford Yeast
Powder and founded in Rhode Island the Rumford Chemical Works
which provided the basis for his fortune. The name "Rumford" he chose
to indicate his appreciation of holding for sixteen years the Rumford
Professorship of Applied Science at Harvard — a professorship established
by an American who at the outbreak of the Revolutionary War went to
Europe, where he became a famous British scientist and inventor, a Min-
ister of War in Bavaria, and a count of the Holy Roman Empire. Profes-
sor Horsford's career was not as colorful as Count Rumford's, but cer-
tainly it was impressive and varied and perhaps was most notable because
his inventive genius was equaled by his concern for people.
He prepared the plans for the service pipes of the Boston water works,
"devised a compact and nourishing ration for the Virginia soldier, thus
reducing to a minimum the labor of transportation in Grant's army,"
drew plans for a submarine, devised the perforation of postage stamps,
concocted and manufactured a carbonated drink of pure fruit juice, had
an extensive model farm, served on the committee charged with the de-
fense of Boston Harbor, and was the U. S. Commissioner at the World's
Fair in Vienna and at the Centennial in 1876. The significant aspect of
his business enterprises was that, as Alice Freeman Palmer commented: "A
great manufacturer of chemicals, he was never content with fortune hunt-
ing, but for years carried out an elaborate system of profit-sharing, pen-
sions, and rewards among the employees. Nothing at his funeral was more
impressive than the attendance of several hundred sorrowing fellow-work-
men." In 1886 he published for the Rumford employees what must have
been a pioneering plan of sharing the profits in the company. His hope,
he wrote, was that the money received "will be invested with other savings,
that each of our employees may in time be enabled to possess a home."
Perhaps the aspect of his policies which struck the most responsive chord
with Mr. Durant was that he always immediately established a library
for employees in any commercial enterprise with which he was connected.
When and how Mr. Durant and Professor Horsford became acquainted
cannot be determined. We know that they were good friends as early as
August 9, 1871, when Mr. Durant requested Professor Horsford to obtain
from the Harvard professor teaching the summer course in chemistry
"the names of the ablest of the ladies" enrolled in it so that he might
consider them for teaching positions. We also know something of their
business associations: Mr. Durant was vice president and Professor Hors-
ford president of the Rumford Chemical Works, and Professor Horsford
was vice president and Mr. Durant president of the St. Helena gold mine
near Arizpe, Sonora, Mexico. Their relationship in connection with
20 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Wellesley was equally close and, as Andrew Fiske, Professor Horsford's
great-grandson, commented in an oral history interview, they were more
interested in the things they did together for people than in making
money.
After being consulted on many matters while the College was in the
planning stage, Professor Horsford was Chairman of the Board of Visitors
from Wellesley's early years until his death in 1893. The Board was dis-
solved then, and the "Visiting Committee" which was substituted to
evaluate or advise different departments apparently was never a potent
force, and its disappearance after a decade attracted no attention. The
earlier Board of Visitors, on the contrary, to judge from repeated refer-
ences in the Trustee Minutes, was noted for the distinction of the mem-
bers and their conscientious work. The professors from Harvard, Massa-
chusetts Institute of Technology, Boston University, and theological
seminaries, and the well-known clergymen who comprised the Board
gave their expert appraisals to the Trustees on the basis of their visits
to the College. But it is clear that Professor Horsford's role was considered
very special. The most explicit definition of the function of the Board of
Visitors is contained in a letter of March 13, 1883, from Mrs. Durant to
Professor Horsford, who was addressed as "My dear Friend." She wrote:
"With regard to the Board of Visitors, it has always been designed to have
them give to the Trustees such advice as seemed to them best. It was
hoped that they would be Friends and Endowers of the College. One or
two meetings a year would be enough, but let each member of the Board
interest himself in the department where he had most knowledge, visit
the classes at such times as he found most convenient, render such help
to the College as he could in any way and every way." Then Mrs. Durant
added: "A while ago a lamp inside a lantern was found in the night to
have the oil on fire, and they were quite excited on the subject. This is
another matter about which I would be glad to have advice from you, as
I am always upon all subjects, but it does not in the most remote way be-
long to the Board of Visitors as a board."
Especially after Mr. Durant's death in 1881, Professor Horsford was
indeed consulted "upon all subjects," although, as Susan M. Hallowell,
Professor of Botany, wrote him on February 17, 1885: "You must know
that we teachers of sciences long ago appropriated you as our particular
friend and lawful advisor, and have felt that we could rely upon your
intelligent interest in all that specially concerns our several departments."
Although the science departments and the library were his particular
interests and he made his largest gifts of money to the library (a Library
Festival was held in June of 1886 to celebrate his many benefactions to
the College), the extent of his thoughtfulness and personal involvement
in the College is almost beyond comprehension. His papers include lit-
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 21
erally scores of letters from faculty and students, in addition to ones
from Mrs. Durant and Alice Freeman Palmer, thanking him for favors
of every conceivable kind. Arrangements for two young instructors in
Greek and Latin to go to New York to see a play, tickets for students to
attend electrical exhibitions in Boston, "a great easy chair" for Alice
Freeman's study, hyacinths for Christmas for each member of the Class
of 1886 ("Are there any directions to be given except that they be kept
moist?" inquired the class president) — the list of relatively small but
imaginative presents for individuals is staggering. Worthy of special men-
tion (and an indication of Professor Horsford's appreciation of the need
of the faculty for brief holidays in addition to the sabbatical leaves he
provided for some of the professors — who he specified must be women)
are the letters thanking him for hospitality at his guest house on Shelter
Island, New York. The Horsfords had a handsome house there where the
Durants were frequent guests, and they also had a charming smaller house
which they frequently invited members of the Wellesley faculty to occupy.
Professor Horsford's correspondence also gives some indication of the
time he devoted to the operations of Wellesley. On one occasion he wrote:
"I spent yesterday at the College, examining with President Freeman the
claims of poor students, and I go again this morning on the same wearying
business — wearying because one's means are so inadequate to the needs."
His presence at events on the campus (often he was the only man at
proms and one of the few outside guests at Tree Day) and his contribu-
tions on every level in the development of the young College have in-
evitably resulted in mention of him in almost every chapter of this book.
We are also indebted to him for the recollection which perhaps best
captures the quality of Henry Fowle Durant's mind and spirit. One day
the two friends wandered across the campus until they came to the hill
on which Stone and Davis Halls now stand. "There," Professor Horsford
wrote, "in the shadow of the evergreens we lay down on the carpet of
pine foliage and talked, — I remember it well, — talked of the problems
of life, of things worth living for; of the hidden ways of Providence as
well as of the subtle ways of men; of the few who are led and are not
always conscious of it; of the survival of the fittest in the battle of life, and
of the constant presence of the Infinite Pity; of the difficulties, the resolu-
tion, the struggle, the conquest that make up the history of every worthy
achievement. I arose with the feeling that I had been taken into the con-
fidence of one of the most gifted of all the men it had been my privilege
to know. We had not talked of friendship; we had been unconsciously
sowing its seed. He lived to appreciate and reverence the grandeur of the
work which he accomplished here."
"The work which he accomplished here" survives today in essence if not
in precise detail. In fact, by the time of Mr. Durant's death some details
22 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
had already changed since the College had opened in 1875. There had
been a steady increase in qualified applicants, far more than could be
accepted. To accommodate some of those, Waban Cottage was opened
that fall, and Simpson — like Waban a dormitory, providing rooms for
thirty students — was under construction. Stone Hall (the first building
given by anyone other than the Durants) had been completed and was
housing 120 "teacher specials," a group of women who had been teaching
but wished further training. Music Hall was ready for use. The "Aca-
demic Department," as the preparatory section was known, had been
discontinued, much to Mr. Durant's gratification. The Alumnae Associa-
tion had been established. The Circular of 1880 had been able to state
that the numbers of teachers and of students were the highest among all
of the women's colleges, and that the library was "much the largest." In
the space of the twenty years between little Harry's death and his own,
Mr. Durant had not only totally transformed his own life but he had
profoundly influenced the education of women and the opportunities
existing for them.
About a month after Mr. Durant's death, the President of the Board of
Trustees announced to the students and faculty that Miss Howard's
health would not permit her to continue as the President of the College.
The description by Anna Stockbridge Tuttle '80 of Miss Howard sug-
gests, as does her portrait, a gracious lady who made a fine figure-head:
"young face, pink cheeks, blue eyes and puffs of snow-white hair, wearing
always a long trailing gown of black silk, cut low at the throat and fin-
ished with fields of snowy tulle." She was a gentle supervisor of manners
and an attractive hostess, in the position, in the phrase of Marion Pelton
Guild 79, "of the nominal captain, who is in fact only a lieutenant." It
is clearly inconceivable that anyone could have been president in the true
sense of the word during Mr. Durant's lifetime, and we can only wonder
about the abilities which she might have developed under other circum-
stances. The fact that her health, never strong while she was at Wellesley,
became increasingly worrisome as the years passed did not greatly affect
the College as long as he was firmly in command. After his death, how-
ever, Wellesley needed real leadership which Miss Howard could not pro-
vide at that point. She lived for another quarter of a century, receiving
some financial assistance from loyal alumnae and the Trustees. In 1895
Mrs. Durant reported to the Trustees the gift of $6,000 from "a friend"
(in all probability Mrs. Durant herself) to establish a scholarship fund
bearing Miss Howard's name. Mrs. Durant kept in touch with her, and
asked alumnae to call on her in Brooklyn when she was not well, and
invited her to attend Miss Hazard's inauguration and other special occa-
sions at the College. Her funeral was held in the Houghton Memorial
Chapel and academic appointments were cancelled for the day; she was
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 23
buried in the college plot in the Wellesley cemetery, and the Alumnae
Association inscribed the stone marking her grave. In these ways recogni-
tion was given the woman who was nominally the first in the world to
be the president of a college. But during her years at Wellesley, pioneer
though she was, she provided little intellectual stimulus for students and
was not a person to whom they responded warmly.
Alice Freeman Palmer
This was never more clearly demonstrated than when the announcement
was made that Alice Freeman would succeed her: Edith Souther Tufts '84
spoke of "open, almost tumultuous rejoicing at the change." Certainly a
greater contrast than that between Miss Howard and the twenty-six-year-
old Miss Freeman, the youngest professor in the College, could not be
imagined. She had been at Wellesley only two years, but in her first year
Mr. Durant is said to have remarked to a trustee, former Governor Claflin,
"You see that little dark-eyed girl? She will be the next president of
Wellesley," and before he died he made his wishes known to the Board.
Mr. Durant had learned about Alice Freeman from his friend James
Angell, President of the University of Michigan, one of the few state in-
stitutions where women's intellectual aspirations were taken seriously
and were rewarded with degrees. President Angell had recommended to
Mr. Durant several graduates of Michigan who were successful members of
the Wellesley faculty in the early years, but of Alice Freeman he later
wrote: "It so happened that I had occasion ... to visit the high school
in East Saginaw, of which Miss Freeman was then principal. I attended
a class in English Literature which she was teaching. ... I had never
witnessed finer work of the kind with a class of that sort. When I re-
turned home I wrote to Mr. Durant that he must appoint the woman
whose remarkable work I had been witnessing, that he could not let her
slip out of his hand." Mr. Durant immediately began his efforts to get her
to Wellesley — and on his third attempt was successful. Like some of the
other early members of the faculty, she could teach a wide range of sub-
jects. President Angell had observed her teaching of English; Mr. Durant
in 1877 offered her an appointment in mathematics, in 1878 one in Greek,
and 1879 the one in history which she accepted. Fortunately for Wellesley,
his persistence equaled her versatility!
She was born on February 21, 1855, in Broome County, New York, not
far from Binghamton, of parents of Scottish and pioneering background.
Mr. and Mrs. James Freeman, like their parents before them, were farm-
ers, but when Alice, the oldest of four children, was seven years old, her
father, encouraged by her mother, decided to become a physician. For
two years while he attended medical school in Albany Mrs. Freeman sup-
24 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ported him and the four little children. It was said that she "had unusual
executive ability and a strong disposition to improve social conditions
around her. She interested herself in temperance, and in legislation for
the better protection of women and children." (It should be noted that
Alice seems not only to have inherited many of her mother's characteris-
tics but also in later years to have shared some of her interests.) The Free-
mans were a religiously devout and humanly devoted family and lived in
beautiful natural surroundings to which Alice all her life enjoyed re-
turning.
Always precocious, Alice taught herself to read when she was three years
old. Although she went to school when she was four and attended Wind-
sor Academy after her father became a doctor and they moved to town,
the education she received was not designed to prepare a student for col-
lege. A teacher at the academy did, however, fire her with a longing to
achieve a college education, regardless of the sacrifices and effort that
would be involved. Inadequately prepared, she was admitted to the Uni-
versity on trial, thanks to President Angell's perceiving her ability when
he interviewed her. She overcame all handicaps — poor preparation, lack
of funds, health depleted by overwork — and was graduated in 1876 with
high standing in a class of seventy-five, of whom eleven were women. (In-
cidentally, she affirmed the values of coeducation henceforth, despite her
later loyalty to Wellesley and to Mr. Durant.)
After graduation she taught in a boarding school in Wisconsin and then
had a very demanding year as principal of the school where President
Angell observed her work. There were difficult financial problems at
home, health problems of her own, and deep grief over the death of her
beloved sister Stella. Nevertheless, she managed to embark upon graduate
work in history at Ann Arbor, and in the course of five years completed
everything except her thesis for the Ph.D. degree. This the University
awarded her in 1882 after she had become President of Wellesley.
She came to Wellesley as Professor of History in 1879 at the age of
twenty-four and was appointed Vice President and Acting President in
1881 and President the following year. It is an altogether extraordinary
story, but Alice Freeman was an altogether extraordinary person.
Her achievements prove that she had a fine, probably brilliant mind in
some respects, that she possessed remarkable maturity of judgment, high
standards, and courage in pursuit of her goals. (President Eliot of Harvard
— usually far from generous in giving credit to a woman — said of her,
"She was one of the bravest persons I ever saw, man or woman.") But it
is her radiant, joyous, and magnetic personality that is dominant both in
contemporary records and later reminiscences. She had a kind of magic
which could very easily have led to a "personality cult." Happily, she
was always more interested in causes or institutions or people than in
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 25
her own personal power. Caroline Hazard, a later President of Wellesley
who knew her well, once contrasted her with other remarkable adminis-
trators who had relied on their great personal influence with students;
Alice Freeman, Miss Hazard said, saw the need of larger goals, of making
the ideals of an institution independent of personal devotion to its leader.
She cherished friendships with people of both sexes and of all ages, and
could not have been unaware of her ability to charm; nevertheless, her
whole-hearted concern with others, whether people or causes, seems to
have freed her from self-seeking, self-doubt, and self-consciousness.
She took office at a time that was critical for the College in many re-
spects. President Eliot later observed that its policy of having women as
teachers and administrators "was held by many to be of doubtful sound-
ness, and its financial future extremely difficult" now that Mr. Durant no
longer personally paid many of the expenses. Louise McCoy North '79, a
faculty member from 1880 until 1886 and a trustee from 1894 until 1927,
who saw the College in a perspective that was both long and sharp, de-
clared that Miss Freeman's "first task was internal reorganization." Her
success in accomplishing it was attested by Miss Hodgkins, for many years
Professor of Literature: "Wellesley met her precise need in 1881 in Miss
Freeman as an organizer." The young President seems to have reached
a clear and perceptive grasp of many problems with rather astonishing
speed, and to have elicited cooperation from all concerned in attacking
them.
Miss Hazard summarized well Alice Freeman's years at Wellesley, two
as faculty member and six as president: "The work which she did in these
foundation days can hardly be overestimated. There were no precedents,
no traditions; she had a clear field to work in and she threw all her influ-
ence for the best things in scholarship, and the best things in life. . . .
She gathered clever women about her, recognizing ability instantly, and
building up a faculty which brought the College honor. When she came
in 1879, there were three hundred and seventy-five students, and she left
the College with six hundred and twenty-eight, eight years later. . . .
She found time to know notable people, to interest them to come to the
College. . . . She spread a rich feast for her students and partook of it
herself."
She strengthened the role of senior professors who were the heads of
departments, and her regular meetings with them led to the establishment
of the Academic Council. The faculty as a whole continued to hold
meetings, but no longer simply to talk about whatever matters Mr. Du-
rant deemed appropriate — and didn't wish to decide himself or after
consulting with individual department heads. The arrangement of the
two bodies, which Miss Hazard described as "an upper and lower house,"
continued for many years, as Miss Whiting points out in the chapter
26 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
on the faculty. Proceedings became orderly and predictable. Standing
committees of the faculty were appointed to consider such matters as
admission policies and entrance examinations, the certification of schools
whose candidates might be admitted without special examinations, the
approval of student programs, and offerings in graduate work. It is diffi-
cult now to imagine a time when there were no faculty committees, but
their very novelty then makes one realize afresh how young the College
was, and how great the demands on its young President were.
Sarah Frances Whiting, the first Professor of Physics, later gave an al-
most haunting picture of Alice Freeman as she struggled to meet those
demands: "I think of her in her office, which was also her private parlor,
with not even a skilled secretary at first, toiling with all the correspond-
ence, seeing individual girls on academic and social matters, setting them
right in cases of discipline, interviewing members of the faculty on nec-
essary plans. The work was overwhelming and sometimes her one assist-
ant would urge her, late in the evening, to nibble a bite from a tray
which, to save time, had been sent in to her room at the dinner hour,
only to remain untouched. . . . No wonder that professors often left
their lectures to be written in the wee small hours, to help in uncongenial
administrative work, which was not in the scope of their recognized
duties."
If a speaker or Sunday minister failed to come at the last moment, it
was she who went to the rescue; she mentioned almost casually in one
letter that she had filled in on both Saturday evening and Sunday morn-
ing of the same weekend. On the other hand, one of her regular duties,
and pleasures as well, was leading the daily chapel services — and it is evi-
dent that her talks were cherished. An instructor who was frankly dis-
mayed by some aspects of the College's emphasis on religion once ex-
plained her frequent attendance at chapel by saying, "I love to hear Alice
chat with the Lord." She was as devout a Christian in her way as Mr.
Durant was in his. "She believed that conscious fellowship with God is the
foundation of every strong life, the natural source from which all must
derive their power and their peace," wrote George Herbert Palmer, the
Harvard Philosophy Professor who became her husband. She told with
delight of the conversion of a student who had been brought up on
Thomas Paine (it is fascinating to speculate on how this girl ever reached
Wellesley) and had found the Bible an exciting new discovery; "she feels
she is in a new world," and her President shared in her joy. She deplored
the grimmer aspects of the Calvinist tradition and wrote of a student
"fearful lest her sins are too stultifying to leave enough soul-life to be
worth saving" whom she felt she had helped. She herself found and be-
lieved that all should find religion a joy.
Mr. Durant would have agreed on this point. As Miss McCarthy men-
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 27
tions in the chapter on traditions, he had been so dismayed by the gloomy
sermon preached the first Sunday after college had opened that he de-
creed that "God Is Love" should henceforth be the text for the first Sun-
day service of the college year. There were differences in Mr. Durant's
and Miss Freeman's approaches, however. The story has been told of her
refusal soon after her arrival at Wellesley to accede to his request that she
labor with a student who, he believed, was not a Christian. It is said that
she replied that to do so would be "an assault on one's personality"
which she was unwilling to make, and that "Mr. Durant was unused to
contradiction, but apparently accepted it in good part, and the strength
of character which this stand showed only made him more convinced of
Miss Freeman's worth." A little later she excused a reluctant instructor
from "the dreaded necessity of offering her 'voluntary' services" in teach-
ing a daily Bible class. She was clearly in sympathy with the trend toward
a more liberal theology — a feeling undoubtedly strengthened by Professor
Palmer's influence in the last year of her presidency.
There seems to have been in general during these years a sense of large
horizons, a heightening of zest, "an atmosphere of youth and aspiration
and adventure." As an alumna of that period said, "It was not only that
we were young; the college was young, too, and so was our president."
The warmth of her personality, her genuine concern with the individual
with whom she was speaking and the response which her concern evoked,
were often remarked upon. More extraordinary, however, was her ability
to convey those same qualities to each member of a large audience. Presi-
dent Angell said of her: "Few speakers have in so large measure as she
that magnetic, unanalyzable power, divinely given now and then to
some fortunate individual, of captivating, charming, and holding com-
plete possession of assemblies from the first to the last utterance."
This power enabled her to make what was probably her greatest con-
tribution to the College: widespread, favorable knowledge of Wellesley.
If her first task was "internal reorganization," her most lasting impact
was in the realm of external relations. President Ellen Fitz Pendleton
'86 recalled "the brilliant leadership of Alice E. Freeman, bringing to
the attention of the world a young and vigorous institution." She en-
couraged, attended, and addressed Alumnae Clubs. She spoke on edu-
cational issues at many conferences and other meetings. (Of her hundreds
of addresses, none was ever written, and on several occasions she revised
totally what she had planned to speak about without the audience's be-
ing aware of the shift, so gifted was she as an extemporaneous speaker.)
She was always convinced of the value of the right kind of publicity. That
her view was not held unanimously is amusingly illustrated in a letter she
wrote Professor Palmer in May of 1887 about a trustee: "Dr. Hovey has
been up here again today, and again, as always, he is afraid Wellesley is
28 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
too popular. I think the good old man is in constant expectation that we
shall be so vain that God will visit us with some terrible calamity. . . .
He quotes, 'Woe to you when all men speak well of you,' and shakes his
head."
Like Mr. Durant before her, she personally prepared what we might
now term the "promotional material" for the College, and also for the
"fitting schools" which she was instrumental in establishing and which
were of great importance to Wellesley. When Miss Freeman became presi-
dent, the Academic Department had been phased out and Dana Hall in
the town of Wellesley had been founded by Sarah P. Eastman, the first
director of domestic work at the College, and her sister Julia. It was,
however, the only "feeder school" for Wellesley, and there still were "only
a few high schools [in which] the girls were allowed to join classes which
fitted boys for college." Miss Freeman set about arranging for certain
schools to prepare students well for her College and also to provide teach-
ing positions for Wellesley graduates. The first large school of this kind
was the Wellesley School in Philadelphia. Miss Freeman sent her secre-
tary, Mrs. McCoy, the statement about it which she wished to have pub-
lished in Boston and New York periodicals. It should, she specified, in-
clude the clause: "the instructors to be graduates of Wellesley of the
highest qualifications for this work." During her six years as president she
"inspired the principals" of fifteen schools "with the idea of definite
training for entrance into Wellesley." Furthermore, she sometimes la-
bored over their financing, writing in the fall of 1886, for example, "I
am full of business this week, planning a 'syndicate' to control the Welles-
ley School in Philadelphia and raise an endowment for it."
It was an admirable arrangement: the increased number of well quali-
fied applicants led to higher standards for admission, and the higher
standards for admission led to higher standards for academic work, and
to a curriculum which, as the chapter concerning it points out, was be-
coming increasingly rigorous. The primary role which Miss Freeman
played in this cycle was to provide the applicants. And, to aid in housing
additional students, Eliot House in the village was converted into a dor-
mitory and Norumbega Hall was built on the campus. Norumbega also
contained a modest suite for the President in which she could live in a
somewhat more tranquil fashion than was possible in the bustling College
Hall.
The trustees, naturally enough, were proud of the young President and
delighted in introducing her to their friends. Professor and Mrs. Horsford
and their daughter Lilian, who became a Wellesley trustee in 1887, were
always very fond of Alice Freeman and frequently invited her to their
home in Cambridge. There she met George Herbert Palmer, a Harvard
philosopher. An Academic Courtship, Letters of Alice Freeman and
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 29
George Herbert Palmer, 1886-1887, which was published by the Harvard
University Press in 1940, provides a charming account of what an alumna
later called "that romance which still illumines some of the more arid
annals of Wellesley." This is not to say that the Wellesley students and
faculty were aware of the developing romance; indeed, his visits to the
College always had an academic aura. The series of readings which he
gave beginning in December 1886 from the notable translation of Ho-
mer's Odyssey on which he was working provided many excellent occa-
sions for formal meetings and also for long walks in the West Woods. Of
course Professor Horsford was in their confidence. He must have been
entertained when she wrote him during the summer of 1886 that "the
king of dogs" which he had given her had "been named Rex by the De-
partment of Philosophy of Harvard University," and she must have had
special pleasure in the dog as a discreet reminder of the initial meeting
at Professor Horsford's home. It is revealing of her devotion to Wellesley
and of her own conscience that she hesitated to agree to marry even after
she was deeply in love. Finally she accepted an engagement ring in Feb-
ruary, and in March and April she visited her family in Michigan and
told them the news. Her absence from Wellesley convinced her, she wrote
Professor Palmer, that "the organization inside the College is all com-
plete." Only when she felt that she could with clear conscience leave the
College did she face the dreaded task of telling Mrs. Burant. ("There
will be a row of course," Professor Palmer, who was often torn between
admiration and exasperation, had written.)
Mrs. Durant had shared Mr. Durant's high regard for the young his-
tory professor, and she also had great affection for Alice Freeman as the
President and appreciation of what she was accomplishing for the Col-
lege. Clearly Miss Freeman feared that Mrs. Durant might think that she
was betraying the trust which had been placed in her; moreover, she knew
that Mrs. Durant would be deeply distressed, and she hated to give her
pain. After she had broken the news and had received the first response
from Mrs. Durant, she wrote Professor Palmer: "She is so sad that I find
my heart crying out to help her as I can not even try to say." Mrs. Durant
wrote to Miss Freeman on May 23, the anniversary of her own marriage,
and then the following day they talked together. Miss Freeman sent Pro-
fessor Palmer this account: "I can never tell you how I have found time
since yesterday noon [the College was entertaining the Queen of the Ha-
waiian Islands] for two talks with Mrs. Durant, but two good talks we
have had. And now that the silence is broken she is most loving and
sympathetic and eager to make plans."
"Plans" proposed by Mrs. Durant and other trustees even included a
kind of joint presidency for the Palmers, who rejected this suggestion
but consented to postpone their marriage from summer until Christmas
30 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
time. It took place on December 23, 1887, at the Boston home of Governor
and Mrs. Claflin, Wellesley trustees who, like Professor Horsford, had
fostered the romance. Professor Palmer had written to the President's
secretary, Mrs. McCoy, "For a month I hope Miss Freeman will be se-
verely let alone. I shall try my best to be an ugly watch-dog." He took
evident pleasure, however, in a reception which the Wellesley faculty
members were planning to give for them on January 9, and the letter
which he wrote Mrs. McCoy concerning it bespeaks his desire to further
the associations between Wellesley and Harvard, his happiness and pride
in his bride, and the fondness of both of them for the Wellesley students
and faculty: "It seemed to me a good opportunity to draw Harvard and
Wellesley more closely together, even if only one in ten of the Cambridge
people I name will be able to come. It is most kind of the Wellesley Fac-
ulty to give us this beautiful Reception. To us the chief pleasure will be
in meeting the Faculty themselves. I wonder if it would be possible for
us to see the Students before the formal reception begins? We should so
like to feel ourselves among them once more. Perhaps it could not be
managed, but if there is any way in which they could see my Queen in
her coronation robes I should be glad." (It is amusing to notice that he
had elevated "the Princess," as she was known by the students and called
in a poem by Whittier, to the rank of queen.)
She had told Mrs. Durant, she wrote Professor Palmer, "that our com-
mon interest in the College must deepen as we join our lives . . . that in
bringing you into closer knowledge and sympathy with the College, I
shall give more than I can take away." The reception was only the first
of the many continuing associations which both Professor and Mrs. Pal-
mer had with Wellesley. He lectured frequently on Greek and English
Literature, and was at first a member of the Board of Visitors and then
served on the Board of Trustees from 1912 until his death in 1933. He
always took a special interest in the library, as is recounted in the chapter
on buildings. And throughout his long life he was a memorable figure in
Commencement processions, a small, rather elegant man, with velvet
Oxford cap and drooping mustachio.
Mrs. Palmer's contributions to the College continued throughout her
life, in ways both direct and indirect. She was elected to the Board of
Trustees when she resigned as President, and she served faithfully on the
full Board and on its all-important Executive Committee. She worked on
many special projects, raised funds, made numerous speeches including
the Commencement address in 1890, and had a major role in the selec-
tion of later Presidents and of members of the Boards of Trustees and of
Visitors. She also interviewed potential instructors, helped to evaluate
schools whose students were admitted on certificate, and in these and
other details of the College's operations continued to take such a domi-
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 31
nant part that, had it not been for her personal popularity and her
friendship with her first three successors, her actions might have been
resented as unwarranted intrusion by a trustee. Her visits and speeches
to the alumnae continued: "All the Wellesley girls in this part of the
world" constituted a welcome part of the audience of six hundred to
whom she spoke in Chicago in 1890 on higher education. Furthermore,
she did not forget Wellesley even on her travels abroad. In her corre-
spondence to her former secretary which the College received recently is
a postcard asking for "bundles of college documents — everything that will
explain the College. Charge the postage to me, and also put some photo-
graphs on the bill, a dozen or so of the medium size. I must do my duty
by Germany!" She also wrote from Venice for material on the College,
adding, "And when you are in the rush of closing the year, just remember
that I love you all and think of the old College tenderly and bless all its
girls from my heart."
Indirectly her achievement and distinctions enhanced the fame of the
College with which she was inevitably associated in the public mind, even
though they were not immediately related to Wellesley. It is astonishing
how much she was able to include in her life, along with a radiantly
happy marriage. A striking instance was her active service on the Massa-
chusetts State Board of Education from 1889 until her death thirteen
years later. As a Board member, she strove for higher standards in public
education, for better facilities, more generous recognition and remunera-
tion of public school teachers, and she pressed for the improvement and
expansion of the normal schools. She also played a significant role in the
beginnings of one of the country's great universities. President Harper of
the University of Chicago was eager to have Mrs. Palmer as the full-time
Dean of Women and Professor of History and Professor Palmer as Pro-
fessor of Philosophy, but when they rejected that proposal, he accepted
an arrangement allowing her to be in Chicago for only three months
during the year. On that basis she served from the opening of the Uni-
versity in 1892 until 1895, in close touch with the brilliance and ferment
with which President Harper surrounded his undertaking, and she was so
helpful to him that he once said to her, "I could never have opened this
university without you." She labored valiantly in the cause of the "An-
nex," later Radcliffe College, raising subscriptions in the hope that the
Harvard Corporation would vote the Harvard degree to the women who
had earned it. (When the hope was not fulfilled, the money already con-
tributed through a committee of which she was chairman was returned.)
She was also a trustee and fund raiser for Bradford Academy and the
International Institute for Girls in Spain, and a founder of the Associa-
tion of Collegiate Alumnae which later became the American Association
of University Women. In 1887, while still at Wellesley, she was awarded
32 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
the degree of Litt.D. by Columbia University (Professor Palmer wrote at
the time, "I know of no other case where an honorary degree has been
given by a great eastern college to a woman."), and the LL.D. degree
by Union College in 1895.
The Palmers also had an extraordinarily happy life together; abundant
and vivid testimony is provided by the large collections of their letters
and her poems in the archives of the College, and by his biography of her.
In Cambridge they lived after 1894 in the historic Craigie House, where
she was a gifted hostess, and summers they spent in their restful home in
Boxford. Then, too, they both delighted in travel and residence abroad
during his sabbatical leaves. On such a leave she died, at the age of forty-
seven and at the height of her powers, in Paris on December 6, 1902, after
a relatively brief illness and emergency operation.
The outpouring of tributes and memorials testify eloquently to the
admiration and affection she had won. There were memorial meetings in
Boston, in Cambridge (where the Wellesley and Harvard Choirs took
part in the service), in Chicago, and elsewhere. A school for black children
in North Carolina was named for her; bells in a tower at the University
of Chicago and a fellowship for the Association of Collegiate Alumnae
were given in her memory. In 1921 she was officially enrolled, at that time
one of eight women, in the American Hall of Fame. At Wellesley she is
commemorated by a fellowship, a professorship, a fund to endow the
presidency, a large dormitory which succeeds the cottage which Mrs. Du-
rant gave in her honor after her resignation as president, and the bas-
relief by Daniel Chester French in the Houghton Memorial Chapel in
which her ashes and those of Professor Palmer have been placed. And
through his Life of Alice Freeman Palmer, published initially in 1908,
reprinted many times, with editions in Japanese and for the blind, gen-
erations of young women have learned of her magnetic personality, her
character, and her achievements.
As President Freeman contemplated marriage and resignation, she
feared that without her leadership the College might not advance along
the paths in which she had set it moving. The month before she accepted
an engagement ring, Professor Palmer wrote to her, "All other considera-
tions must for the present be set aside in behalf of getting those persons
on the Board who will follow you in voting down the nomination of a
goody-goody President." The custom at that time was for the trustees to
be re-elected regularly until they died (or, in one instance, resigned be-
cause of "removal to the distant city of Omaha, Nebraska"). Most of the
trustees on the Board in 1887 had been Mr. Durant's friends, and many of
them not only shared his religious convictions but also on some matters
held views which were more conservative than his. And Mrs. Durant was
becoming increasingly determined to cling to the letter as well as to the
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 33
spirit of his conception of the College. Miss Freeman and some of her
liberal friends among the trustees set to work to change the character of
the Board — necessarily gradually but whenever a vacancy occurred. Lilian
Horsford's name was proposed in February of 1877, and she and a Boston
businessman were elected in June. Alice Freeman herself was nominated
when she submitted her resignation as president, and at the first meeting
of the Board which she attended as Mrs. Palmer and as a regular trustee,
she nominated Horace E. Scudder, the editor of the Atlantic Monthly,
who was to stand with her on many occasions in the future.
It is clear that the all-important selection of Miss Freeman's successor
was arranged very neatly — and that Miss Freeman had a central role in
it. Although she had told Mrs. Durant of her plans in May and the Trus-
tees met in June, it was not until a special meeting was held on October
30, 1887, that Miss Freeman "reported that the time had now arrived
when she must resign her position as President to take effect at the end of
the term." Dr. Crosby, the Chairman of the Board, was asked to appoint
a committee of seven "to seek and consider candidates." He immediately
named the committee members, who included Mrs. Durant, Miss Freeman,
and Mr. Claflin. Only three days later, another meeting was held at which
the Executive Committee (which presumably in the meantime had re-
ceived the report of the special committee) recommended that Helen
Alvira Shafer, Professor of Mathematics, "be appointed Acting President
from the close of this term for the remainder of the college term," and
she was unanimously elected forthwith. There must have been no doubt
about her acceptance (and, indeed, it is highly probable that she had al-
ready expressed her willingness) because no further meeting of the Board
was held until February 2, 1888, when "The Secretary read the letter from
Miss Shafer thanking the Trustees for the high honor conferred upon
her; and accepting the appointment as Acting President, trusting in God
who called her to give the needed wisdom and strength."
Mrs. Palmer later wrote concerning the part which she played in Miss
Shafer's appointment: "When I entered the College in 1879, she had al-
ready held the professorship of mathematics for two years. I learned at
once that she had the high regard of her colleagues and students, that she
was an admirable teacher, a fair-minded debater of college questions, a
witty and cultivated woman. But during the years of my companionship
with her, I was drawn to study her character somewhat closely, and there
grew in me an ever-increasing respect for her exact scholarship, her judi-
cial temper of mind, her sober sympathies, her rational affection for the
College, and her steadfast loyalty to its ideals. When the time came for
a new president, my thoughts naturally turned to her. The trustees,
knowing the heavy responsibilities which the growing college put upon
its presidents, were determined to find the woman best able to bear
34 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
them, wherever she might be. That they unanimously chose their own
frail professor of mathematics was the highest tribute they could have
paid to her trustworthy qualities, and she justified the choice. Though
much of the time in delicate health, her courage never faltered, nor her
devotion to the work she loved."
Helen A. Shafer
Mrs. Palmer's major role in the selection of Miss Shafer is of special in-
terest: she must have recognized the fact that her successor's gifts, which
were very different from her own, were essential for Wellesley at that time.
And so, after the exhilarating impact of Alice Freeman's presidency, there
followed a quieter regime whose character and emphases were peculiarly
right for that moment.
It could not have been an easy moment for Helen Shafer. Mary Cas-
well, a student in 1879-80, an instructor in Botany from 1881 until 1888,
and from 1890 until 1926 the Secretary to four Wellesley Presidents, knew
well both Miss Freeman and Miss Shafer. In looking back upon the situa-
tion confronting Miss Shafer, she wrote: "Not often is a new executive
called to conditions more difficult on the personal side. The retiring
president's magnetic qualities and brilliant career had widely engendered
the belief that the College could not be carried on successfully without
her inspiring presence and infinite address." But at the end of Miss
Shafer's first year in office, the Wellesley Annals of 1887-88 commented
happily: "If you have ever walked in the dark when you expected your
next step to be some inches down, and then felt the shock of finding
yourself on a level, you will realize the feelings of the College when Miss
Shafer took the presidential chair. We joyfully acknowledge the fine
womanly qualities, the sound judgment, the fine and just temper of mind,
the executive ability which guided us so firmly over what we all held to
be a crisis, that we never felt the jar."
Miss Shafer was born in Newark, New Jersey, on September 23, 1839.
Her only sister recalled long afterwards that their father had struggled
to support the family as a merchant in a small way while pursuing his
study for the ministry in the Congregational Church. The family moved
to Oberlin, Ohio, where Helen Shafer was graduated from college in
1863, surprisingly enough not from the regular college course but from
the one designed for women. But a classmate who was later a Boston
clergyman remembered her as "an excellent student, certainly the best
among the women of her class." After a brief initial teaching experience
in New Jersey, she taught mathematics for ten years in a St. Louis high
school that had high standards. She won recognition there for outstand-
ing work, and Dr. William T. Harris, the Superintendent of Schools in
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 35
St. Louis at that time and later the United States Commissioner of Edu-
cation, in a tribute at the time of her death wrote, "Her methods of
instruction in those years produced the best results I have ever known."
In 1877, two years after the opening of the College, Mr. Durant ap-
pointed her Professor of Mathematics and Head of the Department of
Mathematics. This was another instance of his ability to find excellent
teachers. Under Miss Shafer's direction the department became one
of the strongest in the College, and one of the strongest Mathematics De-
partments for undergraduates in the country. A natural scholar, she con-
tinued her studies; in 1887, for example, she attended a course of lectures
in Boston given by a distinguished Harvard mathematician, and another
Harvard professor (in a statement which we would now regard at best as
ambivalent praise but which was clearly intended as high tribute) said
that he "had not known what women could do in the field until he
studied the work of Professor Shafer." At about the same time Oberlin
awarded her an honorary MA. degree.
Without doubt, she was one of Wellesley's great teachers ("incompa-
rable," she was called by one former student). Another spoke of her as "a
teacher of transcendent skill," but perhaps most revealing is the effort
to analyze that skill made by Ellen Fitz Pendleton '86, who was both a
student and a young colleague of Miss Shafer. She wrote: "It is difficult
to give adequate expression to the impression which Miss Shafer made
as a teacher. There was a friendly graciousness in her manner of meeting
a class which established at once a feeling of sympathy between student
and teacher. . . . She taught us to aim at clearness of thought and ele-
gance of method; in short, to attempt to give to our work a certain finish
which belongs only to the scholar. ... I believe that it has often been
the experience of a Wellesley girl, that once on her feet in Miss Shafer's
classroom, she has surprised herself by treating a subject more clearly
than she would have thought possible before the recitation. The explana-
tion of this, I think, lay in the fact that Miss Shafer inspired her students
with her own confidence in their intellectual powers." Miss Pendleton
also commented upon her former students' regret when they learned of
her appointment as president: "No one probably doubted the wisdom
of the choice, but all were unwilling that the inspiration of Miss Shafer's
teaching should be lost to the future Wellesley students." And the stu-
dents were not alone in lamenting her withdrawal from teaching; Ellen
Burrell '80, like Miss Pendleton a former student and a member of the
Mathematics Department, wrote of Miss Shafer's feelings about the mat-
ter: "Often since she became president has she been heard to express
deep regret that her heavy cares no longer permitted her to meet [students]
in this way. For a time she cherished the dream that it might not always
be so, but the hope faded with accumulated cares."
36 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Her abiding interest in teaching and scholarship, coupled with her
clear thinking, organizational ability, and patience, enabled her to make
contributions to the College of a kind and quality which were vitally
important. There has been unanimity in proclaiming that "the crowning
achievement of her administration was the 'New Curriculum,' " which,
according to a statement made in 1894, "places Wellesley in the front
rank of progressive American colleges." This curriculum — which, as she
wrote, "represents three years of earnest discussions" by the faculty — was
completed in 1893 not long before her death. It receives its rightful con-
sideration in the chapter on the curriculum; here we shall say only that
it stood the test of time, some forty years in fact, magnificently — not with-
out modifications, of course, but without serious challenge to its basic
concept of a liberal education.
It has been customary to characterize the work of Miss Shafer's admin-
istration as "intensive" and that of Miss Freeman's as "extensive." Cer-
tainly the internal organization which Miss Freeman had begun was car-
ried further. An Examining Board, composed of heads of departments
whose subjects were offered for admission, was formed to oversee the
whole area of admission, and its secretary, Sarah Woodman Paul '81, paid
great tribute to the President's careful planning, thoroughness, precision,
and dedication at every stage of its work. (Admission standards had be-
come higher and fewer students were accepted with conditions; greater
selectivity was made possible by the ever-increasing number of applicants.)
By 1892 there were ten standing committees of the faculty — and Miss
Shafer made a comment which would strike a responsive chord with
faculty members of all times and all institutions: "Time and energy are
severely taxed in this service, and [teachers] are thus withdrawn from
the direct work of instruction." She also appointed eight members of the
faculty as "Advisers"; "each of whom," she wrote, "should have a certain
official interest in, and acquaintance with, a group of Freshmen."
Mr. Durant's interest in students' health had continued, and evidence
had been sought to corroborate his conviction that it was improved, not
damaged, by college life. Miss Shafer's contributions in this area were
characteristic of her general approach: she made more systematic the
careful record-keeping of the physical education staff, and she published
the results. (She also in the President's Report for 1888-89 noted wryly
concerning eight freshmen who departed soon after the opening of col-
lege that they had "proved candidates for the sanitarium rather than for
the College, although each of them presented a certificate of good health
from her family physician.") In that same Report she stated that
"Through the kindness of Professor Eben Norton Horsford the averaged
and tabulated results of seven years' physical examinations will be printed
this year and sent to the members of the Board of Trustees," and she
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 37
pointed out "that in this work for women we are the first who through
a series of years have given time and labor sufficient for recording and
tabulating so many hundred measurements." The following year her
Report contained "anthropometric tables" and statistics showing the
improvement in the physical condition of twenty-six students who used
the gymnasium for twenty minutes a day for four months — and she con-
tinued to stress the need for an adequate gymnasium.
Miss Shafer's appreciation of the value of "communication" and of the
importance of the alumnae has perhaps never been fully recognized. In
her first year as president she established the practice of publishing an-
nual reports to the Trustees — reports which are invaluable in stating
and clarifying the College's problems and achievements and, it might be
added, in providing information for historians. (Miss Freeman wrote a
brief report in 1883, but she never did so again.) She also arranged for
the publication of a one-sheet "college edition" of the Wellesley Courant,
the town newspaper, in order, she said, "to furnish alumnae and other
absent friends of Wellesley with such a record of passing events as shall
keep them closely informed of her progressive welfare." The first issue
appeared on September 21, 1888, with Professor Katharine Lee Bates as
the editor; the following year it was succeeded by The Prelude, a weekly
magazine, and in 1892 by The Wellesley Magazine. Those publications
also contained items of interest to students, but the first authentic "student
publication" was Legenda, the college yearbook. The article which Caro-
line Williamson Montgomery '89, the editor of the first Legenda, wrote
for the one published in 1894 reveals not only Miss Shafer's support of
the project but her deftness in working with students of that generation:
"From the first application from the Class of '89 for the issue of a col-
lege annual, Miss Shafer was always full of interest. Throughout its
whole career she gave her hearty support. In each detail she was inter-
ested. When she felt unable to give her consent to the insertion of some
feature, she always gave her reasons as fully as she could. Occasionally
she would say, 'Personally I should have no objection to that, but it does
not seem wise to introduce it; I would not.' This warm interest has been
extended through all the vicissitudes of the Legenda." (Apparently other
editors too were grateful; the 1892 Legenda was dedicated to Miss Shafer.)
The editor of the 1889 Legenda also wrote of her: "Often she has
said, 'I feel that one of Wellesley's strongest points is in her alumnae.'
And once more, because of this confidence, the alumnae, as when stu-
dents, were spurred to do their best, were filled with loyalty for their
Alma Mater. Miss Shafer always welcomed with cordiality any plan or
suggestion which an alumna might have for any department of college
life and work. An alumna could not but feel that she had come into
special privileges in knowing how actively, wisely, and progressively Miss
38 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Shafer was engaged in pushing the interests of the College." In the col-
lege archives is a cordial, helpful letter in her clear, flowing penmanship
on fifteen half-sheets of paper which she sent on June 30, 1888, to the
"Southern Wellesley Association" when it was established in Lexington,
Kentucky. She kept in touch with alumnae, individually and as groups,
in their home communities and at reunions. At the time of her death
the Alumnae Association noted especially "the unfeigned wealth of wel-
come on our annual return to college halls," when she confided "what
she in due discretion might of her cares and plans for Wellesley." But her
most significant, long-term service to the alumnae — and the greatest
evidence of her appreciation of them — was the recommendation which
she made in 1892 to the Board of Trustees that alumnae should be repre-
sented on it. The acceptance of the recommendation and the way in
which it was carried out are recounted by Mrs. Mansfield in her chapter
on the Alumnae Association. Here we should like to speak of Miss
Shafer's presentation of the subject in her Report for 1891-92: first she
reported on the activities of the alumnae during the thirteen years fol-
lowing the graduation of the first class (a report which Mrs. Bishop
quotes in the chapter on the achievements of alumnae); then she stated
her belief that the time had come when the Board might "wisely make
a formal recognition of the character and capacity of this body by ad-
mitting alumnae to a share in the responsibility of the government of
the College"; next she pointed out their "special qualities for this form
of service" ("their knowledge of the practical workings of the College,"
"their affection for the College," "their filial allegiance to the funda-
mental principles of the College"); finally, she recommended "the expedi-
ency of alumnae representation on the Board." Clear, thoughtful, rea-
soned, orderly, appealing to the differing concerns of individual trustees
— surely this presentation is a superb example of Miss Shafer's conduct
of the presidency.
Progress, a great deal of progress, was made on many fronts during her
administration. This was recognized in various ways. The 1890 Legenda
was dedicated to the Spirit of Progress "in sincere gratitude for the bene-
fits of recent evolution, and with buoyant hope for the future of Alma
Mater's institutions." (Among the less intellectual "benefits" the editors
mentioned "regeneration of the Greek-letter Societies, institution of the
college cheer, organization of Glee Club and Banjo Club, the hearty sup-
port of the Prelude editors.") The following year Ada Woolfolk '91 wrote
in the Annals of "The Spirit of the Institution": "Today, it is a spirit
of greater liberality in thought and deed, it has exchanged something of
its youthful sentimentalism for true, deep conviction and honest, up-
lifting, brotherly love. . . . Everywhere are signs of the new spirit. Its
symbol was there when admission to the body of Faculty was made free
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 39
to others as well as members of a Trinitarian Church, and daily its pres-
ence is attested by the recent association — the Students' Association —
young today, and bearing little fruit, but promising a rich harvest for
future years." Again in 1893 the editors of Legenda "with grateful ap-
preciation" dedicated the yearbook to the Spirit of Progress, which they
with some restraint simply termed "Ever the vital fact in the History of
Wellesley College."
Perhaps even more remarkable than the progress itself was the fact that
it was apparently achieved quietly and without any public expressions of
dismay. True, the Board of Trustees' change in the bylaws which removed
the requirement that faculty members be members of an Evangelical church
was not arrived at easily. Over a period of eight months it was discussed at
three meetings of the full Board; at one meeting a clergyman, a member for
many years, read a letter from an absent trustee who expressed "anxiety
. . . lest it change the pronounced religious character of the College,"
and at another meeting Mrs. Durant read an extract from Mr. Durant's
will, "solemnly charging the Trustees not to permit any avoidance of his
design," and she also read a note from Dr. Crosby "arguing against nul-
lifying the wishes and intention of Mr. Durant." Mrs. Durant and the
other members of the Old Guard had wished the church membership
requirement to continue for faculty as well as trustees; Mrs. Palmer, Mr.
Scudder, and other trustees who shared their views had proposed that it
be eliminated for trustees as well as for faculty. But, in the end, the com-
promise of exempting faculty but not trustees from the requirement was,
according to the Trustee Minutes, "voted by a large majority."
It is not possible to define precisely Miss Shafer's personal role in all
of these expanding interests and changing emphases arrived at with such
relative dispatch and reasonableness. But there is abundant testimony to
her steadying presence and to the influence of her intellectual clarity and
moral integrity. Often spoken of were her judicial power: "that capacity
for making decisions unbiased by personal feeling"; her lucidity: "She
sees so clearly that if I fail to see as she does, I immediately suspect myself
of mental or moral color-blindness"; her fairness: "I have yet to find a
Wellesley student who could not and would not say, 'I can always feel sure
of the fairness of Miss Shafer's decision.' " Certainly the frequent com-
ment of students, "She treats us like women, and knows that we are rea-
soning beings," is another clue to her success. "With her, duty was a
passion," Alice Freeman Palmer wrote, and a former student noted, "With
her, duty was supreme, but duty transcending itself and becoming priv-
ilege." It seems likely that her sense of duty and her deep devotion to
the College led her to assume the arduous tasks of the presidency, and
that "her singular power of forgetfulness of self" helped her perform
them. Her finest qualities never sought or attained the footlights. She
40 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
was evidently one of those professors most college generations can recall,
whose somewhat austere exteriors belie the human warmth, humor, and
gift for comedy which they possess. The Annals of 1883-84 reported that
she "gave a superb rendering of the inimitable 'Mrs. R. W.' at a Dickens
party"; after she became president, too, there were accounts of "delightful
social evenings . . . when was revealed a dramatic power in her never
otherwise suspected." Her keen sense of humor was remarked upon fre-
quently, as was her wit.
Most significant of all, however, are the comments on "her absolute
absorption in the College" and her "boundless faith in the future of
the College for which she worked and which was her life." Indeed, as
Miss Pendleton wrote, she "literally gave her life to strengthening the
foundations and to building up the organization of the College, both
academically and administratively."
Her health had never been robust. Like so many of her contemporaries,
she struggled for years (ten years in her case) against tuberculosis; she
was, in fact, forced to take leave for most of the academic year 1890-91.
But, as Mrs. Palmer said, "Where other women would have easily sunk
into invalidism, she . . . quietly bore for the sake of many the heaviest
of burdens. She died as she would have wished, in the midst of her work,
with all its perplexities upon her heart, fresh dreams of its future growth
in her active brain." She contracted pneumonia and died after a brief
illness on January 20, 1894. Dr. Alexander McKenzie, the Chairman
of the Board of Trustees, had worked closely with her, as his words re-
veal: "Her administration, quiet, steady, intelligent, has been illustrious
and has been most esteemed by those who most carefully watched its
daily course and felt the gracious sincerity of its intent."
The year before her death, her alma mater had recognized her distinc-
tion as scholar and administrator with another honorary degree, the
first LL.D. degree which Oberlin conferred on a woman. At Wellesley
her name is perpetuated by a dormitory, Shafer Hall; in the Chapel by
a memorial window given by the Class of 1891, of which she was the hon-
orary member; a library fund given by the Alumnae Association for books
on mathematics; and a loan fund established by an alumna of the Class
of 1888.
Some of Miss Shafer's "fresh dreams" of the College's future growth to
which Mrs. Palmer referred were set forth in the President's Report for
1891-92. She stated there: "The careful observer cannot fail to note the
gathering strength of certain signal movements in the college life, which
have already claimed our thoughtful attention, and which must be recog-
nized at no distant day as permanent forces in development. . . . The
President of the College . . . sees before her a young college, with won-
derful possibilities to be developed; the lines of development are clear and
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 41
definite, but the funds essential to progress are not at her command.
Each year as the report of the work has been laid before your body, your
attention has been called to pressing needs. These needs, still unmet,
clamor more loudly every year. Delay must entail not loss alone, but dis-
aster, also." She then made strong cases for a gymnasium; another cot-
tage (Freeman and Wood, adjoining Norumbega on the hill, had been
opened in her administration, but an additional dormitory was needed to
house students living in private houses in the village and to free space
in College Hall for classrooms and offices); a science building; a larger
chapel; further endowments, especially for the faculty; fellowships.
The most cherished of Miss Sharer's dreams had been a new curriculum.
It had been adopted before her death, and so to some extent had become
a reality. There remained, however, the task of putting it into effect — and
this would require full and sympathetic understanding of her ideas.
Who should carry on her unfinished work? This was the question con-
fronting the Trustees. In many respects, the logical person to serve in
the emergency was Frances E. Lord, Professor of Latin, the only member
of the first faculty with previous experience in college teaching (seven
years at Vassar). She had been the Acting President in 1890-91 when Miss
Shafer was on leave because of illness, and the faculty on June 16, 1891,
had expressed "unqualified approval of her conduct of the presidency" in
a formal resolution to the Trustees commending her "unselfish and un-
tiring devotion to the interests of the College." It was natural then that
on the President's death the College should turn to her for leadership,
and she was elected by the faculty to serve as Chairman of the Academic
Council "until a definite provision could be made." But she was fifty-
nine years of age in 1894; and Florence Converse '92 has described her as
"a serious, kindly scholar, of a certain rigidity of temperament, old-fash-
ioned in manners and in theology." The liberal members of the Board
of Trustees must have feared that the progress made recently would not
continue if Miss Lord were placed in charge of the College. And yet she
could not be ignored.
The Trustees at a meeting on February 1, 1894, less than two weeks
after Miss Shafer's sudden death, proposed that "for the time being the
internal, administration should be committed to the Academic Council,
subject to the direction and supervision of the Executive Committee," and
that "Professor Lord, Chairman of the Council, should be the presiding
officer of the Faculty and attend meetings of the Executive Committee."
At the same time they voted that Professor Julia J. Irvine, "Secretary of
the Council, should be charged with the general administration of col-
legiate business and required to attend meetings of the Executive Com-
mittee."
Despite the politeness in naming Miss Lord first, it was obvious that
42 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
she would have the secondary role. "Professor Lord declining the office,"
the minutes of the next meeting reported, the Trustees appointed Mar-
garet E. Stratton, Professor of English and Rhetoric, "in the place, giving
her charge of the religious services and the public functions of the College
together with the supervision of the general college life." Mrs. Irvine
accepted the position offered to her and was named Acting President
in June and President in December. As we shall see, she had been and
she continued to be a brilliant, controversial figure, given rapid advance-
ment by strong supporters and perhaps resented by some of the older
faculty and trustees.
Julia J. Irvine
Julia Josephine Thomas Irvine was born at Salem, Ohio, November 9,
1848. Her grandparents, strong abolitionists and Hicksite Quakers, are
said to have moved to the middle west from the south because they did
not wish to live in a slave state. Her mother was the first woman physi-
cian to practice west of the Alleghenies, and she also made her mark in
the Woman Suffrage movement. Julia Thomas first attended Antioch
College, Ohio, and then transferred to Cornell University, where in 1875
she received the B.A. degree and took top honors in Greek. Shortly after
that time, she entered and won an intercollegiate contest for a scholar-
ship prize; eleven colleges, including Cornell, Princeton, and Williams,
were represented, only "first class colleges" being invited and only one
contestant admitted from each. A newspaper reported widespread ex-
citement over "the wonderful woman who carried off the Greek prize,"
and in 1876 she was awarded the M.A. degree by Cornell. In 1875 she
married Charles James Irvine, of whom we know only that he was a
graduate of the University of Edinburgh and is said to have been in
sympathy with her intellectual tastes and aspirations. They lived for
eleven years in New York City where, according to one account, she did
some teaching and tutoring. After her husband's death in 1886, she stud-
ied abroad, notably in Leipzig, where she "attracted much notice from
her professors." Her formal teaching seems to have been in private schools
in Boston during the few years between her return from Europe and
1890, when she first came to Wellesley, but she must have been well
known in the area, to judge from a full-column report of her appointment
in the Boston Herald. She evidently had independent means, because she
was about to go abroad for further study when an offer from Wellesley
altered her plans.
The offer was as extraordinary as the woman to whom it was made. As
the Trustee Minutes of May 10, 1890, explained, the transfer of Mary
Whiton Calkins to the Philosophy Department "made it necessary to
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 43
secure a superior teacher in the Greek Department. Mrs. Julia J. Irvine, a
Christian lady and scholarly woman who had graduated from Cornell
University taking a first prize and studied at Leipzig was highly recom-
mended. The President of the College was much pleased with Mrs. Ir-
vine, and upon her recommendation, she was appointed Associate Pro-
fessor of Greek, to take the position in 1890 or 1891, as the President
of the College may arrange to their mutual satisfaction." Then, at the
same meeting, it was announced that Professor Horsford had offered
to pay for four years the difference in salary between associate professor
and full professor, and Mrs. Irvine was thereupon appointed Professor of
Greek. The eagerness of Miss Shafer and the Trustees to have her is at-
tested by their willingness to allow her to choose the year of her coming
and by her appointment at a rank and salary which only a very special
arrangement made possible. It is also apparent that the arrangement with
Professor Horsford, who was not a trustee, must have been made before
the meeting, and it seems likely that Mrs. Palmer, with her wide acquaint-
ance in educational and cultural circles in Boston and her great friend-
ship with Professor Horsford, was in this instance as in so many others
the key person. And it also seems highly probable that Mrs. Palmer later
was influential in the selection of Mrs. Irvine as Miss Shafer's successor.
In any event, she made an immediate impact as a teacher. Miss Con-
verse, whose appraisals of the early faculty were informed and perceptive,
wrote of her: "Students of those days will never forget the vitality of her
teaching, the enthusiasm for study which pervaded her classes. Wellesley
has had her share of inspiring teachers, and among these Mrs. Irvine
was undoubtedly one of the most brilliant." Harriet Manning Blake '94
recalled her some thirty years later: "The lady of the rushing skirts, swift
feet; swift hands, long and beautiful; severe head held high; vivid face
behind Oxford glasses with a ribbon." And Miss Blake, who herself re-
ceived a Ph.D. degree and was a teacher, added: "For four years I went to
her classroom, every day an adventure to which I went on tip-toe with
anticipation, and from which I came away entranced. How did she do it
— that extraordinary teacher? ... I remember her swift, clear thinking.
She shot straight at the mark with a bareness that suggested her Quaker
inheritance and the courage that was Quaker too, yet all her own. She
was an aristocrat; one of the few women in that day who ignored what
the world thought. And with her independence went a charming humor.
. . . She seemed always the great lady; yet her humanness was the thing
that touched me most. . . . To many I think she seemed austere and a
little frightening. This was due, perhaps, to her fear of showing her emo-
tions."
Miss Shafer was as well satisfied as she had expected to be with her new
colleague. In the President's Report for the first year Mrs. Irvine was at
44 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Wellesley, Miss Shafer wrote, "The Greek Department has been fortunate
in having its recognized efficiency still further increased by the appoint-
ment, as Junior Professor in Greek, of Mrs. J. J. Irvine, of Cornell Uni-
versity, who is also appreciated as a new element of strength in Council."
Mrs. Irvine was a member of the Academic Council during the three
years of intensive work on the new curriculum, and we can legitimately
infer from Miss Shafer's comment and our knowledge of her scholarly
interests that she participated in the planning of it in a positive and
constructive way. Moreover, it is probable that only her desire to make
sure that the curriculum was put into effect as Miss Shafer had conceived
it induced her "to forego her life work of study and teaching for a time,
and devote herself to the duties of the Presidency." Certainly this is indi-
cated by her pointing out later: "It will be recalled that the College had
at that time entered but recently upon the change from a required to an
elective system of study. . . . The general opinion seemed to be that
... a member of the faculty should be appointed to the office since the
situation demanded an intimate acquaintance with the most recent legis-
lation of the College as well as attachment to its service."
In the emergency following Miss Shafer's death, she was willing to
serve for the rest of the college year, and also to accept appointment in
June of 1894 as the Acting President. Six months later (two days after
Christmas), the Trustees held a special meeting called at the request of
four of their members who were partisans of Mrs. Irvine (Mr. and Mrs.
Claflin, Miss Horsford, and Dr. Willcox) to consider her election as Presi-
dent. In view of Mrs. Durant's strong desire that faculty as well as trus-
tees be members of an Evangelical church, she might have been expected
to object to a Hicksite Quaker as the head of Wellesley College. Instead,
it was she who made the motion that Mrs. Irvine be appointed President.
Before doing so, she read the letter which Mrs. Irvine had written at the
time of her appointment to the faculty, some eight months before the
Trustees had removed the requirement of Evangelical church member-
ship for the faculty. The Trustee Minutes reported that this letter from
Mrs. Irvine gave assurance "of her entire sympathy with the fundamental
spiritual aims of the College, upon which all education and character is
there sought to be built. Mrs. Durant expressed the belief that ever since
Mrs. Irvine had accepted the duties of Acting President she had tried to
promote these aims." The Minutes continued: "Mr. Scudder expressed
his high appreciation of Mrs. Irvine's superior intellectual abilities, and
warmly seconded the motion. All present expressed their warm regard and
approval of the candidate."
At that point in the meeting Dr. McKenzie made a statement, never
amplified, which is tantalizing because it could provide the clue to some
aspects of Mrs. Irvine's administration. He said that "at the specific re-
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 45
quest of Mrs. Irvine, he was under obligation to her, if at any time such
action [election as President] was proposed, to express her sense of her
unfitness for this office; while she had gladly temporarily rendered to the
College such assistance as was in her power in its time of emergency, she
had taken the opportunity to lay this obligation upon him without any
knowledge of the proposed meeting at this time." Immediately thereafter,
as far as the Minutes disclosed, the vote was taken and it was unanimously
in favor of Mrs. Irvine as President. Only when Mrs. Irvine in her Report
for 1897-98 was expressing her belief that the moment had arrived for
her to resign was the matter ever referred to again, either in official rec-
ords or in personal correspondence or statements by her contemporaries
that have been preserved. She wrote in that Report: "When the Board of
Trustees voted in December, 1894, to offer the presidency of the College
to the then acting president, that officer presented through the Chairman
of the Board reasons against her appointment believed by her to be cogent.
Those reasons were set aside by the Board, and the appointment was fi-
nally accepted in view of what was regarded by the appointee as a tem-
porary exigency calling for and justifying the sacrifice of personal prefer-
ence." The "cogent" reasons remain a mystery, and it is fascinating but
unproductive to speculate about them. Possibly Mrs. Irvine simply real-
ized, as Miss Converse has said, "She had not Mrs. Palmer's skill in con-
veying unwelcome fact into a resisting mind without irritation; neither
had she Miss Shafer's self-effacing, sympathetic patience."
She was undoubtedly direct and forthright. At the outset she stipulated
as a condition of her acceptance of the presidency that "the Board should
pass a resolution pledging itself to cancel before the end of the present
college year that part of the college indebtedness which consists of loans
from funds given for specific purposes, and then to publish a full finan-
cial statement." President Freeman had written to Professor Palmer in
April 1887, "The division of authority between the President and Treas-
urer [Mrs. Durant after Mr. Durant's death] is the cause of all the diffi-
culty which now exists in the organization of the College." The basic
concern — that the treasurer wished to make decisions which the president
believed should properly be hers — has been voiced on occasion by later
presidents. So far as Mrs. Durant was concerned, there also were special
circumstances: however generous she was, her personal fortune no longer
permitted her to provide all of the support needed, and she did not have
the experience and expertise to cope with the complex financial problems
which arose as the College expanded. Miss Shafer had expressed the
need for a "financial agent" — that is, for someone who would raise funds.
But Mrs. Irvine as Acting President had become aware of the fact that
no one, not even the Finance Committee, knew the full state of affairs
because Mrs. Durant never submitted a real financial statement; Mrs.
46 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Irvine also realized that, to meet current expenses, money had been bor-
rowed from funds given for scholarships and the library, that a sizeable
indebtedness had resulted, and that the whole procedure was not proper.
She therefore characteristically went straight to the heart of the matter
and insisted upon what must have appeared to be drastic action before
she would accept the presidency.
About six weeks later (on March 27, 1895) Mrs. Durant resigned as
Treasurer and nominated as her successor Alpheus H. Hardy, a business-
man who had recently been elected to the Board of Trustees. Horace
Scudder in his private journal paid great tribute to Mrs. Durant's dedica-
tion, noted that the work now demanded "more strictly business manage-
ment," and then wrote of Mrs. Durant: "She had held to her place with
characteristic stubbornness and then yielded with characteristic sweetness
and cheerfulness." The whole episode is revealing of both women, as is
also their continuing to maintain cordial and cooperative relations after
this and other occasions on which they differed sharply.
Mrs. Durant fought her losing battles with conviction, stubbornness,
and extraordinary magnanimity. As one comes to realize the depth of her
feeling, her sense of something like betrayal of the ideals of the Founders,
her adherence to minutiae as well as her loyalty to fundamental issues,
one is increasingly impressed by the large-mindedness and generosity in
every sense of the word with which she continued to dedicate herself to
the College. Katharine Lee Bates once remarked that "she has forgotten
and no one else will ever know" the extent of her gifts. In one instance,
the very day after the passing of a measure she had vigorously opposed,
she presented "a little parcel of bonds from her personal estate to carry
out the plan." She was a gracious and indefatigable hostess; she was in-
deed indefatigable on many fronts, often working half the night on cor-
respondence, Trustee Minutes, plans. (On one occasion, as she wrote Mrs.
North, "I had to stay home from church meeting to get the notices [of a
meeting of the Trustees] out; not a spare half hour!" And once when she
was persuaded to allow herself a brief respite in Vermont, she admitted to
her hostess that it was the first visit of relaxation she had made in twenty-
five years.) She called on faculty, staff, and students when they were sick,
often taking them flowers from her greenhouse or delicacies from her
kitchen. When a dormitory was not fully completed before college opened
in the fall, one of the early arrivals among the students wrote that their
spirits "would have hopelessly flagged if Mrs. Durant had not found us
and given us a most cordial greeting, which really did more to cheer us
than the order to the men to put the furniture in our respective rooms
directly." For many years Mrs. Durant knew and cared deeply about every
detail of the operation of the College.
After her death on February 12, 1917, President Pendleton commented
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 47
that until the last three years, when she had been an invalid and confined
to her home, "no meeting of the Board of Trustees nor any college func-
tion was complete without her presence." A resolution adopted by the
Academic Council mentioned not only "her noble life, rich in beauty and
love, in sorrow and in service," but also her warm human qualities: "A
Virginian lady, Mrs. Durant's dignity and charm, above all her grace of
hospitality, have meant much to Wellesley during these four decades
gone. Many a homesick girl from the South has learned that the footpath
across the Lake Waban meadow led to a gracious welcome. . . . Many of
us in the faculty cherish precious memories of her courtesies and kind-
nesses. . . ." The Trustees' resolution emphasized the fact that "Mrs. Du-
rant regarded the College as a sacred trust; she gave to it with unstinted
generosity, thought, energy, and loyalty that seemed absolutely tireless."
But perhaps especially noteworthy are the tributes to her acceptance of
change. In their memorial minute, the Trustees recorded "their gratitude
and admiration for more than forty years of a service which has yielded
freedom for progress"; the Academic Council stated more explicitly:
"With rare magnanimity she accepted, one by one, the changes incident
to progress. To each of our successive presidents she gave loyal support."
More changes running directly counter to Mrs. Durant's principles and
sentiments took place in Mrs. Irvine's administration than in any other
during Mrs. Durant's lifetime. Granted, she had always opposed any rais-
ing of the fee (increases of twenty-five dollars became effective in 1882-83
and in 1885-86, and an increase of fifty dollars in 1888-89), and at the
Trustees meeting in June 1888 she not only voted against the recom-
mendation but called the "advance" of fifty dollars "a violation of the
[intent of the] founders of Wellesley College that it should be especially
established to benefit young women of moderate means." But coupled
with another increase of fifty dollars proposed on October 3, 1895, was a
recommendation that domestic work by students be discontinued. As was
mentioned earlier in this chapter, Mr. Durant had instituted domestic
work primarily as a matter of principle, only secondarily as a means of
saving money and thereby reducing the fee. In the intervening years mem-
bers of the faculty from time to time had voiced their belief that students'
academic work suffered because of the time which they were required to
spend on "domestic" chores; in June of 1894 the Academic Council over
which Mrs. Irvine presided recommended the abolition of the require-
ment. Students in the Free Press or editorial pages of the Magazine criti-
cized the "unevenness" in assignments, and their letters preserved in the
College's archives are filled with jubilant and dejected reports of the
tasks allotted to them. ("Domestic" work was liberally interpreted; Pro-
fessor Mary Whiton Calkins expressed her "thanks for the loyal and effi-
cient services rendered, since the opening of the psychological laboratory,
48 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
by students who have helped in department work.")
Everyone realized that domestic work was a very sensitive subject, and
the Trustees did not act on the Academic Council's recommendation.
Mrs. Irvine and the trustees sharing her views obviously realized that their
best plan of action was to show that an increase in the fee was essential
and that Wellesley should discontinue domestic work in order to compete
in attracting students on an equal basis with colleges which did not have
such a requirement. The strategy succeeded: Mrs. Irvine later commented
tersely, "Thus for financial reasons the measure has been adopted which
was originally urged in the interest of academic advancement." It must
have been one of Mrs. Durant's most bitter disappointments. At the
meeting she had battled valiantly — reading a letter from Dwight L.
Moody, a well-known evangelist and educator who had been a trustee
since the early years of the College; quoting Mr. Durant's views; making
her own eloquent protest. She also had questioned the absolute necessity
of a $400 fee; consequently the matter had been laid on the table "until
the Treasurer could arrive at the expenses," and the trustees had ad-
journed for luncheon. When the meeting resumed, everyone except Mrs.
Durant had voted in favor of the increased fee, but the two alumnae
trustees present had joined her in opposing the abandonment of domestic
work.
This apparently was the last meeting of the Trustees at which Mrs. Du-
rant made an impassioned plea to remain loyal to Mr. Durant's wishes.
In the same year, 1895, she deplored but accepted other important altera-
tions of Mr. Durant's original design for the College: the twenty minutes
of "silent time" in the morning and evening were no longer required;
students were allowed to attend the theatre or the opera; the library was
opened on Sundays for two hours in the morning and four hours in the
afternoon.
The students of course were delighted by these and other evidences of
"progress." There soon appeared in The Wellesley Magazine long and
enthusiastic reviews of performances in Boston theatres by Ellen Terry
and Henry Irving, and of Damrosch's "excellent" interpretation of a Wag-
nerian opera for which Professor Carla Wenckebach had provided valu-
able preparation in her advanced German classes. At the College, in addi-
tion to special lectures for the Christian Association and the College
Settlements Association, there was a series of lectures on "Current Top-
ics." In 1895 Woodrow Wilson became the first non-cleric except Mrs.
Palmer to give the Commencement address, and thereafter the Com-
mencement speaker was not always a clergyman. Students were expected
to attend a church service on Sunday, but they could go to the chapel in
College Hall or to a village church as they pleased, and there was no
penalty for failing to attend chapel services on any day of the week. Every-
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 49
one rejoiced in the "system of electric lights" in College Hall, Stone Hall,
the Farnsworth Art Building, and the three cottages on Norumbega Hill;
moreover, Mrs. Irvine reported, "the grounds are thoroughly lighted by
eighty twenty-five candlepower lamps." The Class of 1893 gave in mem-
ory of Miss Shafer "an electric programme clock" which showed "college
time on dial plates in various places" and rather gently rang bells for
classes and concerts and meals — the clanging of the great gong in College
Hall being reserved for awakening the household in the morning and for
emergencies. What students termed "a gruesome elevator etiquette: fac-
ulty first, then seniors" disappeared, as did some other minor irritations
which to the students were symbols of regimentation. The changes, they
noted in The Wellesley Magazine, were all "in the direction of greater
comfort and freedom, more pleasure, and enlarged opportunities for the
students." In sum, an editorial in December 1896 pointed out: "We en-
tered three years ago this fall. Wellesley is like another place now. Could
the most ardent advocate of progress demand changes more varied and
rapid than have actually taken place? Most of them have been the work
of the College authorities."
One of the changes to which the members of the Class of 1897 called
attention in that editorial was that when they entered college they "had
no Dean, and the duties of that office fell upon various already-burdened
shoulders." At a meeting on February 1, 1894, very shortly after Miss
Shafer's death, the Trustees recognized the fact that "the general manage-
ment of college affairs and their organization demand the entire energies
and ability" of a president, and they proposed that the Executive Com-
mittee "consider the expediency of a Dean to relieve the President from
details of administration." The following fall the statutes were amended
"to allow for a second executive officer, the Dean," and Miss Stratton,
Mrs. Irvine's choice, was appointed to the position. As Mrs. Irvine made
clear in her President's Report for 1894-95, the Trustees did not define
"the precise nature of the relation between president and dean," leaving
them "free to make such division of work as seemed best to them." They
decided that Miss Stratton was to remain "in charge of all that related
to the public devotional exercises of the College and chairman of the
committee in charge of stated religious services," to be "the authority
referred to in all questions of ordinary discipline" and the chairman
of the committee of heads of houses and permission officers, to visit all
houses in the village in which students were placed and to assign students
to approved boarding houses, and in general watch over their "comfort
and conduct there." But, said Mrs. Irvine, "Her most difficult and for
the moment the most important trust is the charge of College Hall and
the students who are lodged in this building." Miss Stratton's duties were
residential rather than academic, although she continued to teach until
50 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
her last year as dean when, on Mrs. Irvine's recommendation, she "was
released from all care of the English Department." The two women
worked together extremely well and remained friends throughout their
lives, corresponding frequently even after one retired in the south of
France and the other in Southern California.
On the conduct of chapel services as on other matters the President and
Dean agreed. Mrs. Irvine quoted with evident approval Miss Stratton's
statement that "It is more and more evident that simple, direct preaching
of the truth, free from dogma and denominationalism, attracts our stu-
dents." The services led by Mrs. Irvine herself (who was recalled years
later by an alumna as "that commanding figure behind the reading desk
of the Old Chapel in College Hall") were memorable. A sonnet, "Mrs.
Irvine Leads Chapel," written by Isabel Fiske Conant '96, conveys a
sense of her swiftness of movement and her Quaker stillness of prayer:
When she came silently up the chapel aisle
She seemed to move a space above the ground.
With her at prayer-desk for a quiet while,
In all the crowded room would be no sound.
She came how still, yet with a sort of rush,
Threading the narrow lane as if on wings;
Her gestured invocation brought a hush;
Such as the depth of reverence, only, brings.
Chapel seemed voluntary on the day
She was announced to lead. Although we knew
Not all would hear the prayer that she would say,
Inaudibly our souls attended, too.
She brought our multitude, each heart alone,
Rapt with her rapture, kneeling at the throne.
Something of her feeling about the private nature of prayer is also illus-
trated by an anecdote recalled by Harriet Manning Blake '94: "I remem-
ber that once someone remonstrated with her because when she asked a
blessing in the great Main Building dining room she could be heard by
only a few. 'When I ask a blessing,' she retorted, 'I am not talking to you.
I am talking to the Lord.' " (That anecdote shows too her rather prickly
sense of humor.)
There was then a new liberalism in the rules and in the spirit of the
College, but without doubt the most significant changes resulted from
the new curriculum. Students' awareness of its importance is witnessed by
their hailing it in the December 1896 issue of The Wellesley Magazine
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 51
as "the greatest single stride the College has made." It was not, however, a
stride which could be taken easily and painlessly. The shift from a
largely prescribed course to one offering many electives was radical. As
Mrs. Irvine pointed out to the Trustees, "When students had few oppor-
tunities for election and passed in regular course, each department was
assured of definite support; it was natural to entrust to heads of depart-
ments the individual responsibility for the development of instruction."
Conversely, when certain subjects were no longer required and fewer stu-
dents chose to take them, fewer teachers were needed to teach them. At
the same time, there was a need for faculty members who could teach new
courses and additional sections of popular courses. To complicate matters
further, some teaching methods which had been considered advanced in
the 1870s and 1880s were no longer appropriate, especially for the well-
qualified students who were entering Wellesley in 1895. Another consid-
eration was that the new curriculum was expensive: it required a sizeable
staff of specialists to teach the wide variety of courses. The Trustees, hard-
pressed by financial problems, were keenly conscious of Wellesley's having
in 1895-96 seventy-nine faculty members to teach 786 students while Smith
had only forty-three teachers and 875 students; Mrs. North's correspond-
ence, now in the College's archives, contains letters from Mrs. Durant
and Dr. Willcox concerning the questions some of the trustees were rais-
ing as to whether Wellesley should reduce the size of its faculty to ap-
proximate that of Smith.
Clearly Mrs. Irvine was in a very difficult position. The College's fi-
nances would not permit her to retain all of the present members of the
faculty and also to obtain the new members she needed to put into effect
the new curriculum to which she was fully, and rightly, committed. Ten-
ure provisions were unheard of at that time, although in at least one in-
stance the Trustees felt some responsibility for a long-time professor.
Fortunately for Wellesley, it had at that moment in its history a president
who was clear-headed and tough-minded; otherwise the superb curricu-
lum which Miss Shafer had been instrumental in planning probably
would never have been implemented. Mrs. Irvine was singularly direct
and forthright — and not notably tactful, although one wonders, given the
hard realities of the situation, whether it would have been possible both
to exercise tact and to achieve the results which she deemed imperative.
Mary S. Case, Professor of Philosophy who taught at Wellesley from 1884
until 1924, wrote long after Mrs. Irvine and most of the professors in-
volved had died, "She got rid of officers and teachers who had outlived
their usefulness, and this naturally aroused antagonism in many quar-
ters." In the President's Report for 1894-95 Mrs. Irvine listed eleven "who
withdrew from the service of the College" in June 1894 and eighteen who
did so in June 1895; in her Report for 1896-97 she listed eighteen who
52 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
withdrew in June and she also announced twenty-three new appointments.
Among the members of the faculty resigning in 1897 was Frances E.
Lord, Professor of Latin and the Acting President during Miss Shafer's
illness. After Miss Lord's death in 1920, Estelle M. Hurll '82, an alumnae
trustee at the time of her resignation, wrote of her in the Alumnae Quar-
terly, "Successive changes in the curriculum narrowed Miss Lord's work
to certain elective courses in which the classes were necessarily small. It
was characteristic of her to prefer a field where her services seemed more
vitally needed, and so she left Wellesley in 1897 for Rollins College in
Florida, where she was the Latin professor for eleven years" and from
which she retired at the age of seventy-three. The Trustees, however, on
being advised of her resignation appointed a special committee on the
matter. Acting on a report of that committee in the October following her
departure, the Trustees voted to accept the resignation, sending her a
letter expressing "warm appreciation of the conscientious fidelity [and
added 'scholarly ability' at the suggestion of Dr. Hovey] with which she
has served the College for twenty-one years," and to "appoint her Pro-
fessor Emeritus with a retiring allowance of $700." Miss Lord graciously
thanked the Trustees but wrote: "What I would carry away from Welles-
ley is the remembrance of Christian affection. This I covet, and this
alone." As Mrs. Irvine wrote of her, "She stands forth 'a figure bright
and strong, serene and noble,' a valid witness to that faith which is her
life."
Mrs. Irvine surely respected and admired Miss Lord; she also must have
been glad to have her resign in such a high-minded way and to have her
professorial salary available for younger members of the faculty. The
President was trying desperately to obtain increases in salary and rank for
some of the very able instructors; on one occasion, Dr. Willcox wrote
Mrs. North, she even proposed that several senior, illustrious professors
whom she named "be fired so that younger faculty could receive ad-
vances." (He added rather dryly that the Board declined to approve the
suggestion.) It is easy to see why the young faculty (including Ellen Fitz
Pendleton and Vida Dutton Scudder, who "warmly admired" her "for her
intellectual leadership") held her in high esteem, and why she was not
universally popular with the older faculty. Horace Scudder, the editor
and trustee who was also Miss Scudder's uncle, must have sensed this
ambivalence. After a long talk with Mrs. Irvine, he wrote in his journal
in July 1898 about her, "so clear ... so winning in her manner ... so
admirable a judgement," and then noted "the hopeless estrangement be-
tween her and the faculty."
Apparently the faculty members who at the time appreciated her most
were those who understood (and probably were not affected by) the
thankless but necessary task she was performing for the College. They
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 53
also applauded her firm adherence to standards of scholarship for fac-
ulty and students alike and her own devotion to teaching. (Perhaps char-
acteristically, Miss Shafer had longed to continue to teach after she be-
came president; Mrs. Irvine did so. For two years — from 1895 until 1897
— she taught a year course on "Private Lives of the Greeks" and a semester
course on Homer, and then presumably concluded that she could not
afford the time required.) Despite the fact that the country was in a
serious financial crisis which caused some students to withdraw and
others not to apply for admission, she refused to accept candidates who
could not cope with the level of work demanded by the new curriculum.
(In reporting to the Trustees in the fall of 1897 that there were sixty
fewer students than the year before, she gave as one of the reasons "many
are rejected because not equal to our requirements.") And of course
the smaller enrollment compounded the College's budgetary problems.
When the Trustees met in November of 1897, Mrs. Irvine submitted her
resignation and recommended that it become effective at the end of the
year. She felt that she had done what she could (and later appraisals ac-
knowledged that she had done a very great deal), and that the time had
come for a different kind of president — someone from outside the fac-
ulty. The president, she believed, should "be able to direct, influence, and
in some cases control the development of departments" and should "bring
new endowments." This was the same meeting at which Miss Lord's resig-
nation was discussed at great length and Mrs. Irvine pointed out that the
day had passed when heads of departments could have "individual re-
sponsibility for the development of instruction." It was the period when
her relations with some of the older faculty members were undoubtedly
strained and acutely painful. The Trustees appointed a committee of
five members (Andrew Fiske, Professor Horsford's son-in-law; Mrs. Pal-
mer; Mrs. North; Mrs. Durant; William Lincoln, a businessman who
had just been elected to the Board and would have no longstanding preju-
dices) to consider Mrs. Irvine's resignation. The committee reported a
month later that the members "unanimously arrived at the conclusion
the resignation should not be accepted, believing that such action at this
time would be a serious injury to the College." They did, however, make
three recommendations. The recommendations are illuminating in show-
ing the difficulties that existed as well as the ways in which they might
be overcome. The committee members believed that the difficulties could
be met "by three forces, the President, Departments, and Trustees heartily
cooperating," by establishing a Committee on Appointments of three
trustees to whom the President should report any nominations she wished
to make after consulting with the heads of the departments, and by ap-
pointing as the Dean someone who would "relieve the President ... in
representing the College before the public and so increase public esteem
54 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
as to create a natural channel for gifts to the College." Mrs. Irvine, clear-
headed as ever, knew that these expedients would not succeed, and so
"Mrs. Irvine still insisting" on resigning, according to the Trustee Min-
utes, a second committee of five was appointed to confer with her. This
committee, composed of two clergymen, Dr. Hovey and Bishop Lawrence,
an alumnae trustee, Mrs. Thompson, the Treasurer, Mr. Hardy, and Ed-
win Abbot, a lawyer, could not persuade her to withdraw her resignation.
The date on which she would leave was extended to June 1899, "Mrs.
Irvine having kindly shown a willingness to grant this favor, though not
more." In her determination to leave at what she believed was the right
moment for Wellesley, as well as in her conduct of the presidency, she
exemplified the comment of Dr. McKenzie, the Chairman of the Board
of Trustees: "She adhered to her design with unswerving independence
and faithfulness."
As is recounted in the following chapter, Wellesley's first "Search Com-
mittee" for a president was created, and its members set about the task
of finding precisely the kind of person Mrs. Irvine realized that the Col-
lege should have at that point in its history. Her own contributions to
it have not been fully recognized — certainly not in traditional ways. She
has been a somewhat shadowy figure in the succession of presidents; her
name is associated only with her portrait, given by the Class of 1895, and
with a small fund for the Greek Department which was established by the
Class of 1896 at its tenth reunion. Perhaps, however, she would have pre-
ferred only the "permanent memorial" which Dr. McKenzie mentioned:
"the improvements which have been made under her care, and chiefly in
the new system of studies which has been formed under her direction.
Her wise and scholarly work will remain." Her achievements in connec-
tion with the curriculum had also been marked by the award of the de-
gree of D.Litt. from Brown University in 1895; under her, as the citation
noted, Wellesley was "one of the first colleges to place the fine arts and
music on the list of elective studies counting towards the bachelor's de-
gree."
After she left Wellesley she lived in France and did not return to the
academic life except once, again in response to Wellesley's need. On the
sudden death of the head of the French Department in 1913, she re-
sponded to the plea of President Pendleton (one of the young instructors
whom she regarded highly when she was at Wellesley), returned from
France, and reorganized the department during the year. (She lived in
College Hall until the night of the great fire on March 17, 1914, when by
chance she had stayed in Cambridge. Later she wrote that "one of my
great losses in the fire was my class-books, with all the records of the nine
years at Wellesley. By a painful effort, I made up from memory the lists
of my French [and Greek!] classes after the fire, said list proving nearly
THE FOUNDERS AND THE EARLY PRESIDENTS 55
correct.") At the celebration of Wellesley's Semi-Centennial, the College
conferred upon her in absentia the LL.D. degree of which Miss McCarthy
quotes the citation on page 356.
Except for the academic year 1913-14 and occasional travel, southern
France was her home from 1899 until her death in 1930. In view of her
manifest joy in teaching and scholarship, one wonders why she did not
resume them. She did write of "consoling" herself "with Homer," and of
her pleasure in attending lectures in Grenoble one year when her Welles-
ley fellow-classicist and friend Professor Adeline B. Hawes was with her:
"Miss Hawes takes all that is going, but I am more moderate." She was
deeply committed to the cause of the Allies during the First World War,
when she held a responsible position in a military hospital in France.
A small collection of her letters from France from 1914 until 1917 was
privately published by a former student and lifelong friend, Isabel Fiske
Conant '96; they are lively, vivid, and revealing of the close links she
kept with Wellesley and of her continued interest in the College. Her
successor as president, Caroline Hazard, expressed in her first Report her
gratitude to Mrs. Irvine and wrote: "The personal admiration I had
learned to entertain for her was deepened as I saw her ability in the man-
agement of affairs, and the excellent condition in which they were placed
in my hands." One matter, however, which through no fault of Mrs.
Irvine's had not been cared for was the college debt — and when she re-
ceived the news that Miss Hazard had eliminated it, she sent her a cable
"Wellesley forever!" They corresponded cordially, but there is special
charm in Mrs. Irvine's letters to her former students. In the last letter,
written in 1929, to the Class of 1899, by whom she was "much beloved,"
she reflected on "the manifest advantage of age over youth! — So I recom-
mend you all to persevere at least up to eighty."
With the close of Mrs. Irvine's administration and the beginning of the
twentieth century came the end of Wellesley's formative years. The vision
and dedicated efforts of the founders, the early presidents, and the others
who were centrally concerned with the young College had brought it to
a stage in its development which would hold new challenges and would
require new approaches to achieve the fundamental purpose: to prepare
its students "for great conflicts, for vast reforms in social life, for noblest
usefulness."
HENRY FOWLE DURANT
PAULINE FOWLE DURANT
HARRY DURANT
EBEN NORTON HORSFORD
The faculty parlor in College Hall, one
of Professor Horsford's many gifts
r
The Browning Room
The Library
in College Hall
Professor (later President) Shafer's mathematics class in 1882 included, seated on the
right, Ellen Fitz Pendleton, who became Wellesley's sixth president.
The memorial in the Chapel
Mrs. Durant in her conservatory in her later years
ADA L. HOWARD (1875-1881)
Portrait by Edmund Tarbell
Gift of Students 1875-1882
ALICE FREEMAN PALMER (1881-1887)
Portrait by Abbott Thayer
Gift of Eben N. Horsford
HELEN A. SHAFER (1887-1894)
Portrait by Kenyon Cox
Gift of the Alumnae Association
JULIA J. IRVINE (1894-1899)
Portrait by Gary Melchers
Gift of the Class of 1895
JEAN GLASSCOCK
The Selection of
Wellesley's Presidents
Wellesley is the one major college which throughout its hundred year
history has had only women presidents — not, however, because of a man-
date nor, since its early years, without having consideration given to the
possibility of men. And it is probably better able than most colleges to
chart the expanding role of the faculty and, recently, the inclusion of
students in the selection procedure, and to document the secrecy with
which searches were previously conducted.
As is recounted in the preceding chapter, Mr. Durant selected Ada
Howard to be the first president and had reason to believe that she was
unusually well qualified, considering the fact that no woman had ever
held such a position. (Even as he stated, "Women can do the work. I give
them the chance," he made the point that if he had wanted experienced
administrators and professors he would have had to appoint men.)
The next three presidents were chosen from within the Wellesley fac-
ulty: Alice Freeman, a historian and political scientist; Helen Shafer, a
mathematician; Julia J. Irvine, a Greek scholar. Interestingly enough, all
of them, including Miss Freeman, who was appointed to the office by the
Trustees following Mr. Durant's death and on his recommendation and
at his request, served initially as acting president and were not immedi-
ately given the full title and responsibility. Apparently there was no
"outside search" during the trial periods; trustee committees simply made
inquiries at the College and satisfied themselves that all was progressing
well. Some years later, when again a president was named from within the
College, Ellen Fitz Pendleton was acting president for a year, despite the
fact that during her predecessor's absence because of illness, she as Dean
of the College had assumed presidential duties. Moreover, in her case
there was a full-fledged search.
The first president sought from outside the faculty was Mrs. Irvine's
successor. This was on her urgent suggestion. At the trustees' meeting on
60
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 6l
February 11, 1897, Mrs. Irvine stated in her forthright way: "In order
now to secure the proper development of the present course of instruction
as well as to obtain funds with which to carry it on, the College requires,
in my judgment, a president whose relation to the internal administra-
tion will be somewhat different from that which can be assumed by a
member of the faculty, and who will bring to the College new forces and
new friends."
Keenly aware that the College was in debt and its income did not "meet
its necessary expenses, nor promise to do so at any early date," she realized
that securing further endowment by gifts was imperative. As she analyzed
the situation, Wellesley "should have a president who could command
the confidence of the world of affairs and who could as a speaker or
writer gain the interest, enlist the sympathy, and secure the support of
persons of substance who do not yet know Wellesley." She therefore
begged to recommend that the term of the present incumbent be under-
stood to end with the close of the current college year. When the Trustees
found that she was adamant, agreeing to remain one additional year but
no longer, they appointed to find her successor a committee composed of
Mrs. Durant, Louise McCoy North 79, and two clergymen, the Rev. Dr.
Alexander McKenzie, Chairman of the Board and the Minister of the
First Congregational Church, Cambridge, and the Rev. Dr. William H.
Willcox, President of the Congregational Education Society. Thanks to
the recent gift of very candid letters which Mrs. Durant wrote Mrs. North
from November 11, 1897, until March 11, 1899, we have extraordinarily
detailed information concerning the progress of the Committee.
When Alice Freeman had resigned in 1887 to marry George Herbert
Palmer, the Boston newspapers seemed to have championed the selection
of a woman successor. According to the Boston Traveller, "It has been
said that no woman can be found to fill the place in which she has been
a marked success, and that for her successor some person of the other
sex will be selected." But, continued the Traveller, "This is more com-
plimentary to Miss Freeman than to her sex. Her position will be a diffi-
cult one to fill, and her successor may not be her equal, but we believe
that there are women in the country well qualified for the great responsi-
bilities of the place. . . . The College has been so great a success in doing
the work laid out by the founder that its friends would regret to see so
marked a change in its policy as the election of a male president would
be." The sentiments of the Boston Record would receive even greater
acclaim from today's exponents of Women's Liberation. After writing
of the "rare tact and ability" with which Miss Freeman had filled the po-
sition, the Record added: "the Record suggests that Professor Palmer
should give up his place at Harvard, and that he and Miss Freeman
jointly preside over Wellesley."
62 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
There is perhaps some irony in the fact that the first person specifically
mentioned to succeed Mrs. Irvine was a man, the president of a college
in Colorado, and that it was Mrs. Palmer who proposed his name and
thought him well qualified and "an earnest Christian man . . . with a
very fine wife." Mrs. Durant apparently scotched the idea with one sen-
tence: "If we get a man now we will never again have the place for a
woman in all probability."
It was Mrs. Palmer, also, who on the suggestion of Horace E. Scudder,
a trustee and the editor of the Atlantic Monthly, and with the hearty
approval of Mrs. Durant first approached Caroline Hazard about the
position, "finding an opportunity," Miss Hazard wrote later, "in what to
anyone else would have been the hopeless confusion of a crowded re-
ception. Never shall I forget her contagious enthusiasm, to which my
own responded, and though weeks elapsed before a final decision was
reached, my heart had capitulated long before my mind was convinced." A
person who was influential in convincing her was President James B.
Angell of the University of Michigan, a Brown classmate and life-long
friend of her brother — the same President Angell who had been instru-
mental in Alice Freeman's coming to Wellesley. Although Miss Hazard
was listed as a member from 1889 until 1893 of Wellesley's Board of
Visitors, of which Professor Eben N. Horsford of Harvard was chairman,
there are no minutes of that Board's meetings and no evidence that she
felt closely identified with the College because of her membership on it.
Miss Hazard was precisely the kind of president Mrs. Irvine had real-
ized was essential for Wellesley at that period in its history. At the time
of her election in March 1899, she was a wealthy, highly cultivated forty-
two-year-old woman who took an active part in the business and philan-
thropic concerns of the Hazard family in Peace Dale, Rhode Island, and
had broad interests and a wide acquaintance among people who were
prominent in social, financial, literary, and musical circles. As a girl she
attended Miss Shaw's School in Providence and later studied under vari-
ous teachers at home and abroad. Before coming to Wellesley as president
she had edited the philosophical and economic writings of her grand-
father, a woolen manufacturer, and written a study of life in Narragansett
in the eighteenth century as well as several volumes of poetry. Music,
literature, and art were integral aspects of living to her. Students who
lived in Norumbega Hall when she occupied the president's suite there
before she built Oakwoods for her residence remember fondly her playing
Chopin on the piano for them after Sunday dinners, and many of her
gifts to the College were in the areas of the arts and the development of
the beauty of the campus. Some indications of her enormous contribution
to Wellesley and its reorganization and expansion are given in other
chapters.
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 63
When she resigned in 1910 she had served longer than any previous
Wellesley president. Actually, she had placed her resignation in Mrs. Du-
rant's hands in September of 1908, but the Board of Trustees declined
to accept it and requested that she take a year's leave of absence to regain
her strength following a gall bladder operation from which recovery had
been slow. During that year the dean, Ellen Fitz Pendleton, had assumed
the administrative responsibilities, and when Miss Hazard wrote on May
31, 1910, "My health I regret to say is not however fully reinstated, and
it is therefore my painful duty to sever my connection with the College,"
the Trustees voted that the Dean be requested to take charge of the ad-
ministration until a president was chosen.
The following fall a committee of seven trustees having as its chairman
Samuel B. Capen, a merchant who was also President of the American
Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions and President of Welles-
ley's Board, was appointed to select a president. It was an interesting and
diverse group: Mrs. Durant; Lilian Horsford Farlow, the daughter of
Professor Horsford; Helen J. Sanborn '84, an author; the Right Rev.
William Lawrence, Episcopal Bishop of Massachusetts; William H. Lin-
coln, a businessman; Rowland Hazard, Miss Hazard's brother.
Not until June 9, 1911, did the Committee make its report to the Board,
explaining: "We have been slow in reaching a final conclusion, realizing
the gravity of the question before the Trustees and that the matter was
too important to be hurried unduly. The College we knew was safe, with
a strong hand on the helm and many ready to cooperate. The Committee
came to its task with an open mind, seeking only to know what was best
for the College. We recognized that we had had in President Hazard a
great personality who had stood before the public as a leader. We recog-
nized also the great principles and ideals for which Wellesley had stood
for all these years and that no mistake must be made." The Committee
then described its procedures, which had included "taking counsel of
other educators" and writing "eight or ten prominent College Presidents
asking for suggestions." As a result the names of thirty-nine persons were
considered.
Probably no subsequent Search Committee has ever given a more co-
gent account of its deliberations, especially in regard to choosing a man
or, a woman, than that committee which met more than sixty years ago:
"It ought to be frankly stated that there is a decided difference of opinion
among educators over the question whether it is better to have a man
or a woman at the head of a college as large as a university. There are
not only the great educational problems which have to do with a college
of over 1,200 members, but there are great physical problems, especially
with an institution situated as Wellesley is, away from a great city, and
having to provide its own water supply, drainage, electric lighting, etc.
64 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
The college community is double the size of many of the towns. The
argument in favor of having a man preside over such a trust has been
presented to us with great force and ability by those who hold that posi-
tion.
"Everything that could be said upon that side we believe was brought
before us. Your sub-committee, however, at a meeting held several weeks
ago decided that it would adhere to the traditional policy of the College
to nominate a woman for the presidency. We found that to change that
policy would be considered a severe blow to those who are in favor of the
higher education of women. If Wellesley had started, as did Smith and
Vassar, with a man for President it would be very different. But for us
after all these years now to change our policy would be saying to the
world that no woman could be found to carry on the succession of women
Presidents. After reaching this unanimous conclusion, we then reduced
to four the names in our list of women that were the best available for
the place; finally of the four no one seemed on the whole so well qualified
for the position as the present Dean."
Miss Pendleton was thereupon unanimously elected by the nineteen
trustees present, and the following morning, a Saturday, her election was
announced at the regular chapel service by Dr. Capen. According to the
Wellesley College News, "The applause at this announcement was in-
stantaneous and heartfelt. When Mrs. Durant, from the back of the
chapel, suggested the singing of the Doxology, everyone felt it to be a
fitting expression of their gladness and gratitude." And the News com-
mented editorially: "We have loved our Dean; we will love and support
our President with all the gladness and sincerity that is in us."
No one has ever assumed the position with the extensive knowledge of
what it entailed that Miss Pendleton had — and it is highly unlikely that
anyone ever will. Like Miss Hazard a native of Rhode Island, from the
time she entered Wellesley as a freshman in 1882 until she died in 1936
she was closely associated with the College and away from it for only a
few short periods. The fall after her graduation she returned as a tutor
in mathematics; thereafter recognition and advancement were remark-
ably rapid. According to the Trustee Minutes, "At the special request of
the President," Miss Shafer, herself a mathematician, Miss Pendleton, "a
superior young instructor in Mathematics," was granted a leave of absence
"to pursue advanced mathematical studies" at Newnham College, Cam-
bridge, in 1889-1900. Such a leave was highly unusual; even more extraor-
dinary was her appointment in 1901, obviously at Miss Hazard's insti-
gation, as assistant to the Secretary of the Board of Trustees (Mrs. Durant)
"to attend the meetings of the Trustees and the Executive Committee
and to record the proceedings and furnish a duplicate copy to be depos-
ited at the College for use by the President of the College." She was also
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 65
appointed Dean of the College in 1901, and when she assumed the high-
est office in 1911, she knew intimately all of the details of the College's
operations.
By the time she retired in 1936, the College had been largely rebuilt
after the College Hall fire and had undergone vast changes in many re-
spects. Also, as her successor recently pointed out, none of the trustees
had had any experience in selecting a Wellesley president. Indeed, except
for the actual choice of the person, it is clear that Miss Pendleton played
a dominant role in this procedure.
In 1930, shortly after her sixty-sixth birthday, she had been reap-
pointed "for an indefinite term," a term whose limits she herself appar-
ently could determine. In September 1934, she wrote Robert Gray Dodge,
a prominent Boston lawyer who was President of the Board, that she had
reached seventy years and that it seemed a suitable time to consider fixing
a date for the retirement. At a meeting of the Board that year she "stated
that she wished to place on record her conviction that both the alumnae
and the faculty should be formally consulted by any committee which
may in the future be appointed to find a new President of the College,"
and at a meeting on January 18, 1935, her "recommendations as to pro-
cedures were approved, as was acceptance of her desire to retire June
30, 1936." She proposed that the members of the Executive Committee
exclusive of the President of the College act as a nominating committee,
and that "the Executive Committee and the Academic Council of the
Faculty appoint a committee to confer with the Nominating Committee
and that provision be made to consult the alumnae of the College."
The alumnae in due course suggested that Candace C. Stimson '92,
Vice President of the Board of Trustees, "be asked to assist the Executive
Committee," on which two other alumnae (Harriet Hinchliff Coverdale
'10 and Grace Crocker '04) served, and, except for candidates proposed
by individual alumnae, that seems to have been the extent of alumnae
participation in the process.
By the time of the meeting of the Board in March 1935, Miss Pendleton
had met with the five members of the faculty committee and "explained
its function," Sophie C. Hart, Professor of English Composition, had been
elected chairman, Louise McDowell '98, Professor of Physics, secretary,
and "a questionnaire had been contemplated as to the qualifications of a
new President." The Trustees raised the question whether "it had been
made sufficiently clear not only to the faculty committee but to the alum-
nae as well that they are not expected to serve in a nominating capacity,"
and they were reassured on this point.
There was no doubt that the faculty committee understood its circum-
scribed role: the report which Miss Hart sent for the committee to Mr.
Dodge in June began: "Realizing that it was not the function of the
66 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
committee or the faculty to propose a candidate, the committee asked
each one answering the questionnaire to mention various persons who in
the opinion of that member might well be investigated." Two lists of
names were appended to the report, the first of those suggested by one fac-
ulty member and the second by two or more faculty members. (Inci-
dentally, Mildred McAfee, Dean of College Women at Oberlin, was on
the first list, and Mary Lowell Coolidge, Dean of Wellesley and member
of the Philosophy Department, was on the second.)
Miss Hart's summary of the results of the questionnaires stated: "There
was strong emphasis upon the qualities of integrity and fair-mindedness
that distinguished our present President. There was also a consensus that
academic training and experience as a teacher, and if possible also as an
administrator, are essential or at least highly desirable. A considerable
number definitely wished to exclude from consideration businessmen,
clergymen, and 'professional educators,' i.e. those whose field lies in the
history and theory of pedagogy."
In addition to having negative feelings about businessmen, clergymen,
and professional educators, the faculty expressed positively their desire
for a woman. "A strong preponderance of opinion favored a woman,"
Miss Hart wrote. "Among the reasons given for the preference were the
following: the inspiration and encouragement it is to Wellesley students
and to women in general to see a woman ably filling the chief executive
position and representing the College among leaders of education in
their country; the fact that the high distinction which Wellesley has at-
tained has come to it under women presidents; the further fact that it
would seem to be an indictment of the whole cause of the higher educa-
tion of women if now a properly qualified woman were not found to
carry on the tradition of a woman president."
The faculty committee made its report and then disappeared into the
wings, never again to be called on stage or to be given bulletins about the
action taking place, even advance notice that a decision had been reached.
Ella Keats Whiting, then Assistant Professor of English Literature and
the very junior member of the faculty committee, recalled recently that
its members divided into teams to prepare the questionnaire and to sum-
marize the results. She worked with Alfred D. Sheffield, Professor of
Rhetoric and Group Leadership, a precise gentleman with an equally
precise goatee, who savored words with as keen appreciation as did his
brother-in-law, T. S. Eliot. "One of my delightful experiences at Wellesley
was being on the team with Mr. Sheffield," Miss Whiting said. "He put
our summary into his elegant language; working with him was interest-
ing and it was quite a lot of fun." Miss Hart and Miss McDowell com-
posed another team, and they left out Miss Coolidge, the fifth member of
the Committee, because she was definitely a candidate. A Bostonian who
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 67
had done her undergraduate work at Bryn Mawr and received her Ph.D.
at Radcliffe, Miss Coolidge had taught philosophy and served as Dean of
the College since 1931.
"As I remember it, Mary Coolidge's name appeared on about a third
of the faculty questionnaires. Miss Pendleton wanted Miss Coolidge.
She'd brought her here thinking she would be her successor, I know," Miss
Whiting stated. "I think a good many people realized that Miss Coolidge
would be very much the kind of president that Miss Pendleton had been
and that, great as Miss Pendleton had been, perhaps it was time for an-
other kind of president.''
A more different kind of president — except for integrity and intelli-
gence and industry — could scarcely have been found than Mildred Mc-
Afee. This was strikingly evident in their knowledge of Wellesley prior
to taking office. Not long ago Mildred McAfee Horton said in an oral
history interview, "As I think back on it now, it was really incredible
how little I knew about the College." When she was a Vassar undergradu-
ate she had been a member of its debate team. "We proved something
about Philippine independence, as I recall. I've forgotten what it was,
but I'm sure we definitely defeated Wellesley — through no real fault of
my own, I may say. I recall getting completely tongue-tied in the rebut-
tal." Then one spring vacation she spent with a member of the Vassar
team who lived in the Boston area and drove her through the campus —
"which I thought was attractive but a little too hilly." That was the only
time she had even visited Wellesley until, after finally meeting the Trus-
tees in May 1936 at the Dodges' home, Mrs. Dodge, a Wellesley alumna,
took her "secretively to the campus to drive around."
Mr. Dodge early that spring had gone to Oberlin to see her. Mrs. Hor-
ton recalled: "My memory is that he really nearly asked me to come at
that point, but he said that of course he would want me to meet the trus-
tees. I was supposed then to go on to Wellesley to talk to the trustees
fairly soon after that, and I got a bad sinus infection and went to the
infirmary instead, which was very humiliating, and therefore deferred this
visit to Wellesley until very late. It was May, I think, when I finally met
the trustees. ... A very nice Mr. Hugh Walker Ogden was a Boston
lawyer, and I remember his saying to me, 'Now you probably will feel a
little inadequate about knowing what to do because of course you are
young and inexperienced. But,' he said, 'you don't need to worry because
the first day you go into the office your secretary will put something on
the desk that you'll have to do something about, and you'll just learn.'
And he said, 'If people say you are too young, just don't worry about that
— you'll outgrow it.' "
Miss Pendleton showed her the house but they had only one brief con-
versation. It was a busy time at the College and the expectation was that
68 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Miss Pendleton would be living nearby on Dover Road and there would
be plenty of opportunity to talk with her later — something that proved
not to be true because of her sudden death that July. "At one point in
that very brief conversation I had with her, I said, 'I really know so little
about it and I'm so inexperienced about this that I really hesitate to take
it on,' and she said, 'Miss McAfee, I've been the President for twenty-five
years. If I haven't built a college which can run itself for a year or two,
I've never done a good job. You've got plenty of time to learn.' It's my
favorite quote from her, and a very significant one. And of course it was
true; it could take care of itself."
Mr. Dodge had reported to the Trustees in January that the committee
had been hard at work and that the list had been provisionally reduced
to a few names and that steps were being taken to secure information
about them. On May 15, a week or so after the Trustees had met Miss
McAfee, they unanimously elected her. It was agreed that Mr. Dodge
would inform her and the president of the Alumnae Association by tele-
gram, and that he would send a letter to members of the Academic Coun-
cil. This stated: "Miss McAfee was selected, after extended investigation,
from a very large number of women suggested by the Committee of the
Faculty and the Committee of the Alumnae Association and from out-
side sources." According to newspaper stories at the time, "Approximately
1000 persons registered their choice for 100 different persons."
Apparently no thought was given to special announcement to members
of the Wellesley College community other than the faculty. At Oberlin,
however, from which Mr. Dodge had received a request from President
Wilkins that he be given the privilege of announcing there Miss McAfee's
election, there was, according to the New York Times, "a unique demon-
stration by the students who, in the early evening, thronged about her in
the Faculty Club. In the crowd of students more men than women gath-
ered to acclaim the dean." That story with an Oberlin dateline spoke of
"her sense of humor as much in evidence at the press conference. 'I
suppose I have to submit cheerfully to this sort of thing,' she said, 'but it
seems so absurd. I never thought becoming a college president meant all
this, but that's only part of what I have to learn, I suppose.' "
During the next thirteen years, as President of Wellesley and Director
of the WAVES, she became well inured to press conferences as a part of
being a renowned administrator. After returning to Wellesley following
her service in the Navy during World War II, marrying the Rev. Dr.
Douglas Horton, and launching Wellesley's 75th Anniversary Fund Cam-
paign, she resigned, effective at the close of the academic year 1948-1949.
The Trustees with deep regret yielded to her decision, and the Rev. Dr. Pal-
frey Perkins, Chairman of the Board of Trustees and Minister of King's
Chapel in Boston, made the announcement to the college community on
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 69
October 23, 1948, at the regular Saturday morning service in the Hough-
ton Memorial Chapel and to the public in the press the following day.
A few weeks later Mrs. Horton wrote the officers of the Alumnae As-
sociation: "The newspaper reports of my resignation, together with cer-
tain radio comments, have stirred up some curious impressions which this
letter is designed to correct. Neither Mrs. Roosevelt nor Frances Perkins is
slated to succeed me! ... I want to provide a place for a president who
can concentrate all her energies upon the College. The College is in fine
shape every way but financially, but it needs more vigorous and uninter-
rupted leadership than I can give it permanently."
The Trustees voted that "The Searching Committee shall consist of
the Chairman of the Board, who shall serve as Chairman of the Commit-
tee, and six other trustees to be appointed by him, two of whom shall be
alumnae trustees, and two members of the faculty to be selected by the
Academic Council." For the first time the two faculty members, Miss
Whiting and Miss Coolidge, were to be full-fledged members of the Com-
mittee. In addition to those two, three faculty members (M. Margaret
Ball, Professor of Political Science, Harriet B. Creighton '29, Professor
of Botany, and Edward E. Curtis, Professor of History) were elected to
consult with them and to assist by compiling suggestions of candidates
and serving in other ways as requested.
The only official record of the proceedings of "The Special Committee
on the Presidency" is a written report which Dr. Perkins sent to the Trus-
tees on May 27, 1949. He wrote: "The Committee has held nine meetings
since December, and the individual members have given a great deal of
time to their important task. From alumnae, from faculty, and from in-
terested individuals, the Committee received nearly 150 suggestions. At
the first meeting it was agreed to follow Wellesley tradition and, if pos-
sible, to nominate a woman president. Consequently, very little time
has been spent investigating the men whose names were suggested. On the
contrary, wide and careful inquiries have been made with regard to
women candidates.
"After screening the very large number of suggestions, and after some
candidates had eliminated themselves from consideration, the Committee
concentrated on the five women whose names were given to the Board in
the Chairman's letter of March 21. Each of those candidates was seen
personally by one or more members of the Committee. It is their unani-
mous decision to recommend Margaret Clapp '30.
"All of the members of this Committee have met Miss Clapp individu-
ally and talked at length with her, and find themselves in complete accord
about her qualifications — a formed and decisive mind, a fearless and
affirmative attitude, a quickness of observation, a delightful sense of hu-
mor, an inner serenity of spirit. She has taught in some or the most rug-
70 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ged, testing classrooms in our democratic system and gives the impression
of having grown strong and wise under the challenge. The Committee
considers the fact that she graduated from Wellesley, the fact that she
has achieved distinction as a scholar, and the fact that she won the Pul-
itzer Prize to be greatly in her favor. But beyond and above these facts,
the members of the Committee share unitedly and without reservation a
sure confidence in her capabilities as an administrator, and a deep faith
in her qualities as a human being."
She met the trustees on June 3 at the Brookline home of Marie Rahr
Haffenreffer '11, Vice Chairman of the Board, and was elected at a special
dinner meeting of the Board that evening. The following day, the Sat-
urday just preceding the examination period when it was thought that
the faculty would not welcome being summoned to a special meeting of
the Academic Council, copies of a Wellesley College News Extra, put to-
gether with great secrecy by the editor and managing editor of the News
at the home of the Director of Publicity, were distributed to students on
the campus and to members of the faculty at their homes. The newspaper
"routes" were mapped out and the circulation handled by the few people
in the administration, including Virginia Eddy, Secretary to the Presi-
dent, who had to be privy to the election. Arrangements were also made
for Miss Clapp to hold a press conference at the New York Wellesley Club
so that the newspapers and magazines in the New York area could easily
interview her while she was living there.
Secrecy was indeed central in the whole procedure — and this extended
to persons being considered for the position. Miss Whiting remembers
telephoning some trusted discreet friends on other faculties where poten-
tial candidates were teaching, and always making the calls from home
"because we were really working in secrecy." Miss Ball and Miss Creigh-
ton were asked on one occasion to scout a woman who was speaking at a
meeting of alumnae of another college, and they still chuckle about pre-
tending that they hadn't seen each other for many years and talking to
each other vivaciously so that the alumnae wouldn't realize that inter-
lopers were present. But the greatest subterfuges came in the screening of
Miss Clapp.
Her name had been suggested by Margaret Bancroft '12, who wrote
that Allan Nevins, who had directed her doctoral dissertation at Colum-
bia, "said that Margaret Clapp should certainly be looked into as a can-
didate for President." Miss Whiting looked at the material about her in
the College Recorder's Office and in the Placement Office, and she and
Miss Coolidge agreed that she should indeed be considered and they
took the information to the next meeting of the Committee. As Mrs. Hor-
ton's letter to the members of the Alumnae Association Board of Directors
indicates, this was the period of public figures as heads of educational
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 71
institutions; for example, General Dwight D. Eisenhower had been
named to Columbia and Harold Stassen to the University of Pennsyl-
vania. (In fact, when Wellesley elected Margaret Clapp, she was the first
person in that era who was chosen from the academic world to be presi-
dent of a major college; Yale and Smith followed not long thereafter, and
the former trend soon was reversed.) Eventually Miss Whiting's and Miss
Coolidge's persistent mention of Miss Clapp at the meetings, which were
always held at private dinners at the Union Club in Boston, was re-
warded, and it was decided that the two alumnae trustees on the Com-
mittee, Elizabeth King Morey '19 and Grace Ballard Hynds '17, should
visit the young alumna who was teaching American History at Brooklyn
College.
Mrs. Morey recently gave her version in an oral history interview: "I
was at that time on something called the College Committee of Public
Education Association. It was to look into the teaching in the city col-
leges, which were then under duress for having Communist leanings. And
so it looked as if a good way for us to see Miss Clapp was to ask to watch
the teaching of American History at Brooklyn College. They put us off
and put us off and put us off, and we only discovered much afterward
that they were hoping to get us there sometime when all of the Commu-
nist students wouldn't be in too much of an uproar about something —
but of course we knew nothing about that. Well, we weren't honest or
honorable in this at all because we weren't supposed to have anybody
know we were looking for a president. Don't ask me why but that's how
we operated. I know it's because they were very aware of one or two peo-
ple who had been told by some other college that they were looking for a
president and had promptly resigned from their jobs thinking that they'd
been asked. At all costs we were to avoid this, but I think it went further
than that; I think they just liked to not talk about it. Anyhow, we were
there under completely false terms. I had made the arrangements because
I was a member of the College Committee. Grace Hynds wasn't even on
that Committee at all. That's how we saw Margaret, and we got so ex-
cited about her that Grace missed almost the last train home. ... At the
meeting before she turned up, we'd decided, three or four of us, that we
must ask for more time. We weren't willing to settle on anybody who had
turned up, and we thought we'd have to have more time and we thought
maybe we should send people around (or one person around) because we
had people in various parts of the country we hadn't interviewed person-
ally. But she was an immediate hit. So that took a great load off every-
body's mind."
In an oral history interview Miss Clapp said: "I was completely taken
in by those representatives of the Public Education Association who came
to visit. I did not link them with Wellesley in any way. I didn't know
72 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
that they were trustees, and I don't know that I knew from anything that
came up that they'd ever gone to Wellesley. But they were very pleasant,
and one got us to Ellis Island, which I'd wanted to take my class to. (I
was teaching immigration to one group at that time.) It was Mrs. Hynds
who was able to arrange that. And Mrs. Morey agreed that she would
write somebody in Albany about something we didn't like, or did like,
I've forgotten what. So I felt that it had been a worthwhile day."
Further dissembling was perpetrated to allow some of the members of
the Searching Committee to see her in action without letting her know
that she was a candidate for the presidency. Mr. Curtis, who had taught
her when she was a student, known her as the president of College Gov-
ernment her senior year, and had expressed the hope that she might be
his successor in the History Department, arranged for her to give a pub-
lic lecture at Wellesley. She was making speeches in various places, a good
many of them in connection with her biography, John Bigelow: Forgotten
First Citizen, which had received the Pulitzer Prize not long before, and it
didn't occur to her that the invitation from Wellesley wasn't completely
bona fide. Although she wasn't aware of the fact, the audience in Pendle-
ton Hall that evening included a number of people who by no means
attended all departmental lectures: Mrs. Horton, Mrs. Haffenreffer, Miss
Whiting, Miss Coolidge. But very carefully they were not selected to be
among the group which entertained her until time for her to return on
the midnight train to New York.
She didn't remember when she had any idea that she was under con-
sideration. "One of my colleagues said to me one day, 'They are think-
ing of you as president of Wellesley.' I said, 'Oh, that's ridiculous; I
don't play golf.' I was working on the Nicholas Murray Butler papers at
the time, and he certainly played golf up and down the country and got
wills written for Columbia. It was pretty late on that the trustees got in
touch with me, and one after another came down. I couldn't see why they
couldn't all come together; they all seemed to live on the same street in
Boston. But they had agreed to do it separately, and they were an inter-
esting group. Kelley Anderson [O. Kelley Anderson, president of Liberty
Mutual Insurance Company] came into my apartment saying, 'I haven't
been down here since speakeasy days,' so one could relax with him. Ted
Weeks [Edward A. Weeks, editor of the Atlantic Monthly] I just had a
very pleasant dinner with — no talk of Wellesley that I could see, but very
pleasant." John Schroeder, minister and professor at Yale University, and
Palfrey Perkins ("I saw quite a bit of him") she recalled did talk with her
about Wellesley.
Among the impressions Mrs. Morey has of those interviews are: "Ted
Weeks went down to interview her about an article for the Atlantic and
they went to the Ritz. Kelley Anderson went down — I forget what he went
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 73
to see her about, but he came back and said he knew she could make a
budget and stick within it, because while she was only a woman, she'd
paid back her loan for her college education faster than he'd paid his
and she knew money and you could never make him believe she didn't
know the value of a nickel and a penny as well as a thousand dollars. So
he was immediately taken with her on her realistic attitude toward
money. And of course Ted liked her, but he questioned whether maybe
she was too feminine and fragile to stand up under the job!"
Finally came the meeting of the Committee at which she was consid-
ered and about which Miss Whiting reminisced: "I can remember that
Mr. Perkins went around the table — he wanted every person to speak his
mind. He liked to tell about Mary Coolidge, who was smoking one of her
third-cigarettes in a long holder. When he came to Mary, she took this
out and said, 'I think she's a natural for the position.' And he was greatly
relieved! They all stood a little bit in awe of Mary Coolidge (she'd been
very frank about some of the candidates), and he was just delighted when
she made that statement. And of course it was a unanimous vote."
When asked whether her predecessor gave her considerable advice, Miss
Clapp mentioned one delightful bit in connection with the President's
House: "She showed me the switch that put the lights on and off (this
was in the guest room upstairs). She said, 'Look — right at the door!' 1
marveled at this capacity to keep this childlike awareness of the wonder
of invention — that you could just turn it on. I learned after I lived there
that in every other room in the house you would go from light to light,
turning them off. After those big parties, the maids go to bed and you go
around and turn off every single light."
It's a bit appalling to think of the number of lights Miss Clapp must
have turned off during the seventeen years she lived in the President's
House; it was not remodeled until her successor's administration. Many
other major buildings were built, however (including Bates, Freeman and
McAfee residential halls, the Jewett Arts Center, and the Wellesley Col-
lege Club), and others were extensively added to or renovated (the Library,
the dormitories in the Hazard Quadrangle, Stone-Davis, Sage Hall, and
the Whitin Observatory), although, as will be pointed out in another
chapter, her primary emphasis in fund raising was on faculty salaries and
financial aid for students.
The basic pattern of procedures in the selection of Miss Clapp's suc-
cessor was unchanged from that followed in her case. When the Trustees
in August 1965 reluctantly accepted her decision to resign effective in
June 1966 because of "her conviction that Wellesley will benefit as it
looks to the future from fresh vision and new leadership in its chief ex-
ecutive officer," a special Searching Committee again was composed of the
Chairman of the Board serving as the Chairman of the Committee and
74 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
six other trustees (three women, all alumnae, and three men). Again
there was an Assisting Committee of five tenured faculty members elected
by the faculty, and the two who received the largest number of votes were
invited to attend all meetings of the Searching Committee. This Assisting
Committee sent questionnaires to their colleagues requesting suggestions
concerning qualifications and candidates, and, according to John R.
Quarles, the Chairman, prepared a comprehensive curriculum vitae for
many of the 275 persons whose names ultimately were obtained from
all sources and were very helpful in making inquiries about them. Sugges-
tions were also solicited from students, alumnae, other educational insti-
tutions, foundations, and other organizations.
"We specifically left open the matter of choice between a man and a
woman, although most of us probably preferred a woman if, and only if,
fully as well qualified as the best man available," Mr. Quarles wrote fol-
lowing the search in a memo giving for possible help in the future his
comments and suggestions concerning the selection of a new president.
Mary Sime West '26, a member of the Search Committees in 1965-66 and
in 1971-72, recently made perceptive observations about great differences
in their procedures. In an oral interview she gave this informal ap-
praisal of "the woman question" in 1965-66:
"We women on the Committee — that is, Rose Clymer Rumford '34,
Eleanor Wallace Allen '25, and I — were very eager to have a woman presi-
dent, and most of the letters that came (I'll say most, not all, but most of
the letters) from alumnae said that Wellesley should have a woman presi-
dent. So we leaned in this direction, but we weren't too sure of our men,
and at the second or third meeting Judge Byron Elliott very seriously
asked for the floor and moved that we seek the best qualified person for
this job that this country, if not the whole world, could produce, and the
hearts of us girls sank because we felt that he was going to look at men
just the way he was going to look on women — everybody should be equal.
'The best qualified person in the whole world,' he said, 'and as soon as
we can find her ask her with the greatest possible dispatch.' And everybody
was so happy! That settled a little something for all of us right then and
there. The motion carried unanimously, but we went right on looking
for men anyway, everyone — at least the ladies and Judge Elliott — feeling
that we really leaned toward a woman. We looked at some awfully good
men that time, but I don't think one of them had a chance of getting it
because this was Wellesley's tradition and we felt very strongly about it."
Once again, the Committee was a small group and met in Boston clubs.
"There was an intimacy about it, and we used to meet in all of Boston's
best clubs. After one club probably said, 'That group again!' we'd move
to another club. I remember that in one nobody could read his or her
papers because no light bulb was over ten watts — possibly fifteen but no
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 75
more. We could barely see our notes, but we were always well fed. We
met in the afternoon and had dinner, and then Mrs. Rumford and I were
escorted, or at least put in a taxi, and sent to an absolutely scarey, empty
South Station where the same porter was always roused where he was
sleeping in a telephone booth, and he took her bag to the Federal mid-
night train and mine to the Owl which went off an hour later. We almost
were moved to report to him on the state of our search; we felt we knew
him by the end of the winter," Mrs. West recalled.
Secrecy was still an important consideration. Mr. Quarles's memo pre-
sented in some detail and with his usual clarity the various steps taken in
the selection process: "When preliminary data indicated that an indi-
vidual merited further consideration, the name was assigned to one or
more members of the committees for further investigation, on the basis
of which the Committee continued its consideration. Through this proc-
ess ultimately a small number of names emerged as really serious contend-
ers. At this point, there was a strong temptation to arrange an interview
with the candidates or go to his or her institution for more detailed and
specific information. We felt, however, that either of these procedures
could be prejudicial to the person and disturbing to the institution con-
cerned, and might start harmful rumors, and so we adopted the policy
of staying away from direct contact until all other sources of information
had been exhausted and we were reasonably satisfied that we had found
the right person. Ultimately the name of Ruth Adams stood out clearly.
The Committee Chairman then got in touch with the President of her
institution and with several faculty members there and received confir-
mation of the tentative favorable conclusion.
"As the next step, we arranged for Miss Clapp to meet Miss Adams in
New York for an intimate and frank discussion. Miss Clapp reported that
she was wholly satisfied that 'Miss Adams is right, and right for Welles-
ley,' and that she was interested. Following this the Chairman arranged a
similar interview and reached a similar conclusion. Without disclosing
this conclusion, he then arranged for Miss Adams to meet all other mem-
bers of the Search Committee and the Assisting Committee and the Col-
lege Treasurer, not in a group but singly or in pairs, and asked each
to report directly to him before consultation with others.
"Finally, we invited Miss Adams to come to Wellesley for several days
of confidential discussions with various people whose views and opinions
would be helpful to her. In due course she authorized us to present her
name to the full Board. A meeting was called, preceded by a morning of
meetings with individual trustees who had not served on the Committee,
and she was formally elected. She was our guest at a celebration dinner in
the evening." This took place on March 16, 1966.
As had been done seventeen years before, the editor and managing edi-
76 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
tor of the College News put together an "Extra" at the home of the same
Director of Publicity (although the timing in the calendar year obviated
the necessity for home distribution to faculty members), and again plans
were made for a press conference for the newly elected president in New
York a few days hence while that was still her base of operations.
A native New Yorker, she was graduated in 1935 from Adelphi College,
and from 1960 until she came to Wellesley she was Dean of Douglass
College in New Jersey. Miss Adams is a specialist in Victorian literature
and received her Ph.D. degree from Radcliffe College in 1951. She was a
member of the English Department of the University of Rochester from
1946 until 1960. Especially while she was a housemistress at Radcliffe
from 1943 to 1945, a teaching fellow and tutor at Harvard from 1944 to
1946, and doing her graduate study in Cambridge, she had known some
members of the Wellesley faculty. She said recently, however, that she
had had no close associations with Wellesley before she was approached
about the presidency.
This is her recollection of the series of events preceding her election:
"Miss Margaret Clapp asked me if I would be interested in being a candi-
date for the presidency and I, of course, said yes. I heard little thereafter
until Mr. John Quarles asked me to meet him in New York and indicated
that the Board of Trustees looked sympathetically upon my candidacy. I
met with a group of trustees in Boston and with another group in New
York. No interviewing took place on the campus. I was driven to the
campus late one February afternoon when, alas, it was impossible even
to see the buildings. I met in Wellesley, at the home of Miss Virginia
Onderdonk, some of the faculty members who had been on the faculty
committee advisory to the Board of Trustees."
Looking back on the six years of her presidency, she commented not
long ago: "It was a period of great disturbance on all college campuses.
Two of our greatest problems were, of course, the continuance of an un-
justified war and the definition of the status of our black associates within
the institution. Between 1966 and 1972 Wellesley students shared with
other undergraduates in the United States, and indeed around the world,
an impulse toward active participation in the affairs not only of the na-
tion but also of the institution."
By the time that she resigned effective on June 30, 1972, and became
Vice President for Women at Dartmouth College, there were vast changes
in the selection procedure, some of them the result of what Miss Adams
described as "students' impulses towards active participation in the affairs
... of the institution." Mrs. West commented that as she and Nelson J.
Darling, Jr., Chairman of the Board and of the Committee, talked about
the changes, he said, "We just moved with the times." "In the first place,"
Mrs. West pointed out, "democracy had set in; all the constituencies had
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 77
to be represented." The Trustees responded rapidly.
The full Board of Trustees decided on the number of members of the
Search Committee, and the Executive Committee of the Board on the
nine trustees (five women, all of whom were alumnae, and four men) to
serve on it. The faculty voted that of its allotted four members, two should
be tenured and two non-tenured. (As it happened, there were three
women and one man.) Never before had there been so many faculty
representatives and never before any not having tenure.
The Senate of College Government decided to have self-nominations
for the four memberships assigned to students, and seventeen students
wrote statements which appeared in the College News setting forth their
qualifications and views. Thereafter the Senate sponsored a kind of "Meet
the Candidates" night in the Davis Lounge of the Schneider College
Center, preliminary elections reduced the number of candidates to eight,
and a final election was held with provision made that representatives of
at least two classes would be chosen. (Two seniors, one junior, and one
sophomore were elected.) The black community elected as its representa-
tive a sophomore.
It is interesting to note that two members of the Committee were black,
one a trustee and the other a junior (who subsequently was elected presi-
dent of College Government), but they represented their total constitu-
encies. As Mrs. West explained in the oral history interview, "The black
community sent a spokesman to ask our full board if we would please
elect, or have elected, a representative of the black community. Barbara
Loomis Jackson '50, a trustee member of the Search Committee, explained
to us, with the greatest lucidity, what this meant to the black community.
They wanted their own representative, elected by themselves — and as she
explained it, we understood."
The Committee numbered eighteen. "Some thought it too large," Mrs.
West said. "As a matter of fact, as we met, it shrank. I don't mean in ac-
tual numbers, but as it grew more intimate, it seemed smaller. At the
beginning it did seem large. It seemed particularly large, I expect, to Mr.
Darling and me who had served on the smaller committee in Boston in
1966. When we finished, we were a small, close, warmly connected and
related group."
This appraisal was confirmed by Kathie Whipple 74. She attributed it
in part to the fact that for the first few meetings they simply shared their
thoughts "about what personal qualities were important." As she said in
an informal interview, "We never came up with a list of qualities we
thought was ideal, mainly because, when you think about the size of the
Committee, such a list would really have been impossible. But we got a
sense of what other members meant, what their verbal style was like. Later
on we could pick up cues in the interviewing process, and it meant there
78 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
were less lags and less awkwardness when we were actually talking to
candidates later."
Naturally enough, one of the first matters considered was whether the
Committee should seek, and announce that it was seeking, a woman. Per-
haps the most explicit account (the accuracy of which some of the other
members have attested) was given in the interview with Kathie Whipple.
She herself had stressed in her candidacy for membership the importance
of selecting a woman: "I thought that to talk about a college that was
dedicated to women and then tacitly admit to the world that you couldn't
find a woman who was good enough to be the prime figure in the educa-
tion of women at Wellesley was admitting a kind of defeat that I didn't
think a hundred years of our education should have to be admitting if
we'd been doing our job well! It wasn't that I didn't think a man neces-
sarily was not qualified to lead women in education. I think the role
model concept is important; I don't think it is absolutely essential. I
thought that in terms of public relations and campus morale it was a
much wiser move to go after a strong woman. It should be noted that in
remaining a women's institution we took a rather unpopular stand. Under
such circumstances it is best for morale if people know the reasons and
if the reasons are substantive and not merely tradition-oriented. I also
thought we should have somebody who would make some noise about
the fact that we were a women's college and point out the reasons we had
chosen to stay one."
But, she said, "There was definitely not a consensus about the question
of making a formal announcement that we wanted only to look for a
woman. Many of the people on the Committee (or at least some) felt that
this was sort of a reverse prejudice. There was even a question that we
might be legally in trouble to go out and advertise a job this way. There
was also the question, if we had made an announcement like that, of the
kind of man who would ever come for an interview should we find a man
that we were interested in. There was a definite breach between the people
who thought we should make a definite announcement that a woman was
what we wanted, for the sake not only of having a direction that people
could readily identify us with but also because doing so would save us
fifty per cent of the work right off, and those who didn't think this was a
good thing at all. But it was a very friendly breach. There was vigorous
discussion of the point but no sense of hostility toward each other, and
what we finally agreed on was that we all pretty much accepted the fact
that we would like to find a woman and if it was possible we would, but
we would make no formal announcement saying that was what we were
going to do."
Among the striking external changes was that meetings were held, not
in seclusion in Boston, but at the Wellesley College Club on the campus,
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 79
and that they began, because of the schedules of the faculty and students,
about 3:30 on Friday afternoons, went on during dinner in a very infor-
mal way, and then resumed as formally as ever after dinner until ten
o'clock or, frequently, considerably later. Also, twice in the course of the
year meetings were scheduled at which some of the local trustees and
the campus members of the Committee reported to all interested mem-
bers of the college community on the current thinking of the Committee
and on virtually all matters except specific candidates.
More effort was made than ever before to elicit suggestions: Barbara
Barnes Hauptfuhrer '49, President of the Alumnae Association and a
member of the Committee, sent a letter to every individual alumna; the
faculty members, as had been the usual practice, devised a questionnaire
for their constituency, and the student members also distributed their
questionnaire and followed up on it; a large number of educational in-
stitutions, foundations, and knowledgeable individuals were queried. The
result was that many responses were received and, as Mrs. West said, 'An
enormous amount of secretarial work was done by an alumna who acted
as our full-time secretary, with an assistant a good part of the time."
According to Kathie Whipple, although meetings were usually held
every week, "What was most exhausting was the thought that went on
between the weeks. There was a lot of thought about what we'd said
and reconsideration and soul-searching about what we thought were the
best ways to get what we wanted and that sort of thing. Then we'd come
to a new session with new ideas." In summary she said, "It was a very long
process. It took a big personal emotional and intellectual tori. It was a
very tiring process."
It must also have taken a considerable physical toll, because the names
of approximately 350 persons were suggested, and, Mrs. West commented,
"We researched every single one. Our faculty members traveled around
interviewing people who knew some of these candidates. The trustees and
students also traveled, as nearly as we could in our own areas so that too
much wasn't spent flying from here to there. We interviewed, not the
people who had recommended them (we knew they liked them), but other
people who knew them. Many of us scouted in our own areas and re-
ported back: A committee must see this person,' or 'Forget this person; I
don't think she's someone that anyone else needs to see.' That was scarey
but we all had to do some of that. Then the next step was to send a
group — a student, a trustee, and a faculty member, or sometimes two
faculty members, one trustee, sometimes two trustees and one faculty
member."
Then the group reported to the Committee, in most cases recommend-
ing that the candidate be brought to Wellesley to be interviewed by the
full Search Committee. In some instances if the Board of Trustees hap-
80 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
pened to be meeting at the time the candidate was on the campus, they,
too, would have dinner and attend the meeting with her, although they
did not take part in the actual questioning. Some ten candidates had in-
terviews with the whole Committee.
One of those, of course, was Barbara Warne Newell, who eventually
was asked to become Wellesley's tenth President. In an oral history in-
terview during the first year of her presidency, when she was asked to
recall the selection process as it affected her, she spoke of "the extremely
active role which the students played. Removing myself from the situa-
tion, I would describe the dynamics as one in which the students asked
the embarrassing questions or the leading questions, and the faculty and
the trustees listened and then would help to probe the areas that were
opened by the students. Students played the probing role without the
social constraints of the older generation."
Mrs. West totally corroborated this judgment during an oral interview.
"I couldn't get over how articulate they were and what good judgment
those students had. I think that working together with students taught
us a great deal about the students of this College and that it opened our
eyes to their capabilities. They were terribly good at interviewing. They
asked the most penetrating questions. Like sheep we marched right in
the minute the student opened the door. In we went with our further
questions! But the students opened quite a lot of questions that I'm not
sure we would have had — I hate to use the word 'effrontery,' but I'm not
sure that we would have had the imagination to ask."
The various steps so far as Mrs. Newell was concerned were: (1) Mr.
Darling asked if she would meet with a small subcommittee of the Search
Committee in Pittsburgh; (2) she met with that subcommittee, which
consisted of one student and two trustees; (3) she met with the entire
Committee in Wellesley; (4) she met informally, at her request, with
groups of students in dormitories and at Harambee House, the center for
black students, and with clusters of the faculty, tenured and non-tenured,
who were selected by the Dean; (5) she met again with the Search Com-
mittee as a whole and with Miss Adams at the President's House; (6) the
Chairman and the Vice Chairman of the Board, Mr. Darling and Betty
Freyhof Johnson '44, both of whom were members of the Search Com-
mittee, went to Pittsburgh to ask if she would seriously consider accepting
the position; (7) she met with the full Board of Trustees. She said: "My
own reaction at the time was, and still is, that it was one of the tidiest
search committee processes that I had ever witnessed. (I've seen a fair
number of them in my day.) They were more than fair, with me at any
rate, and very open with me as a candidate. There was a sense of free
give and take all the way through."
When asked why she decided to accept the invitation, she said: "I was
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY'S PRESIDENTS 8l
extremely impressed. Let me put it more bluntly in another way. I was
not looking for a job when the Search Committee subcommittee came,
and the major reason I accepted the invitation to come to Wellesley to
meet with the whole Committee was that I was upset at what the Seven
Sisters hadn't done in the last twenty years. I really do think that as insti-
tutions they play a unique and vital role in American higher education.
I really didn't care who became President of Wellesley, but I wanted to
see somebody who had thought about this role and the Search Committee
seemed an appropriate place to register this concern. When I came to
Wellesley (as I think maybe the Search Committee will vouch), I really
pulled no punches in terms of my concerns in the area of women's edu-
cation and that this was something that the colleges like Wellesley ought
to take seriously and on which they should take a leadership position. I
did not see the coeducational institutions with which I had been affiliated
really doing anything in the area, and I didn't think they would because
on the whole the male administrators did not see the problem. I remem-
ber very specifically meeting the Search Committee here at Wellesley and
going back to Amherst [where her parents live] and saying in effect, 'Well,
I told them what I thought of the world and I was sure I would never
hear anything more from them, but I felt better.' So I guess I was ex-
tremely surprised that the Search Committee took me seriously. I was not
only surprised but in the process I got a sense of the nature of the College.
I was particularly impressed by the trustees' devotion to the institution
and their sincerity. I think that my reaction to the Search Committee and
the trustees was so extremely favorable that they sold the College to me.
My trip to the dormitories was fun. It was the first time I had ever been
in an institution where the students genuinely tried to convince me to
come — and it was as true in Harambee House as in Tower Court, which
in itself is interesting."
The reaction of one of four student members of the Committee who
took her around the campus is equally interesting: "We weren't trying
to get a whole bunch of student leaders together or anything like that;
we tried to get people who had pretty diverse interests to talk with her.
They envisioned a conversation where they would ask her some questions,
and she played the devil's advocate: 'Is Wellesley doing enough?' and that
sort of thing. It got people riled up so they wound up doing most of
the talking — which was one of the things I found attractive about her
in the interviewing process on the three different occasions I was with
her."
Kathie Whipple, a member of the subcommittee which went to Pitts-
burgh to talk with her, remarked, "We were very impressed by Mrs. New-
ell because of the intelligence of her questions, particularly, and because
her record seemed to be borne out by her answers to personal questions.
82 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
She really had done a great deal in education and was a crackerjack
administrator who still enjoyed teaching." Some students, she said, "men-
tioned they'd like someone with a family, mainly because of role model
considerations, so were glad that she had a nine-year-old daughter; they
definitely wanted somebody who had had to buck sex barriers along the
way and had come through okay." For the latter reason they especially
liked her having been associated with five major universities: the Uni-
versity of Wisconsin, where she obtained the Ph.D. in Economics and, as
a part of her course, spent a year in the law school with a specialty in
labor relations law, and later was Assistant to the Chancellor; the Uni-
versity of Illinois and Purdue University as a teacher of labor history and
industrial relations; the University of Michigan as Acting Vice President
for Student Affairs and Associate Professor of Economics; the University
of Pittsburgh as Associate Provost for Graduate Study and Research and
Professor of Economics. On the other hand, Mrs. West commented that
"When we knew that we wanted Mrs. Newell most of all, we were com-
forted and delighted that she had gone to an undergraduate college very
much like ours."
Curiously enough, Mrs. Newell knew Wellesley at an earlier age than
did any of her predecessors. When she was just starting school, her father,
Professor of Economics at Amherst, participated in the Wellesley Insti-
tute for Social Progress several summers, and she thoroughly enjoyed
living on the campus and especially swimming and boating on Lake
Waban. She also had an unusual assortment of other associations with
Wellesley before she assumed the presidency in 1972: as a Vassar under-
graduate she took part in 1950 in a joint Wellesley-Vassar Summer Intern-
ship Program in Washington; while teaching at the University of Illinois
and Purdue University she helped to found Seven College organizations
in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, and Lafayette, Indiana, and to recruit
students and interpret "the nature and thrust of women's colleges."
When she became Wellesley's tenth President, she undoubtedly had
more knowledge of the present day Wellesley than any other President
had had, with the exception of Miss Pendleton, who had literally grown
up with the College. The contrast between the extent of the information
provided her and Mildred McAfee is almost incredible. But if the changes
in the selection process — in particular the increasing openness, the con-
certed effort to obtain the judgment of more segments of the college
community, the consideration in great depth of many more candidates —
are striking, in Wellesley and other educational institutions, so, too, are
the concepts of the role of the president.
This is perhaps shown most dramatically in statements made by Miss
Hazard and Mrs. Newell. In 1904 Miss Hazard wrote in an article in
The Congregationalist: "In our modern world a new and distinct class of
THE SELECTION OF WELLESLEY S PRESIDENTS
83
men has arisen. . . . They have the most inclusive duties that can fall
to the share of any one man, and in our democratic society they are per-
sons of almost absolute power. The old monarchial theory seems to be
revived in modern times for them, for the college president rules truly
by divine right. If he technically rules in right of his Board of Trustees, he
actually rules by his own force and goodness and power. He has the most
absolute control, of any person in our modern life, of the destinies of
his associates and of the welfare of his students. In hardly any other
relation of life is final decision left so entirely in the hands of one man."
When Mrs. Newell was asked in the oral history interview mentioned
previously about her conception of the role of president, she replied: "I
first of all see the President as part of a team. . . . One of the outstand-
ing characteristics of this institution is the strong role of the faculty. I
guess my administrative philosophy is that the major job of an admin-
istrator is to try to facilitate the interests of faculty and students. This
question is really one of nurturing, and how do you help support ideas
as they come forward? How do you facilitate communication?"
As Nelson Darling pointed out, Wellesley "moved with the times."
Commencement procession in 1950
Mildred McAfee Horton
and Marie Rahr Haffenreffer
Margaret Clapp and
Dr. Palfrey Perkins
CAROLINE HAZARD (1899-1910)
Portrait by Cecilia Beaux
Gift of the Class of 1903
ELLEN FITZ PENDLETON (1911-1936)
Portrait by Ellen Emmett
Gift of Shakespeare Society
MILDRED MCAFEE HORTON (1936-1949)
Portrait by Gardner Cox
Gift of the Trustees
MARGARET CLAPI' (1949-1966)
Portrait by William Draper
Gift of the Class of 1930
Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Horton posed hap-
pily on the steps of the President's House.
RUTH M. ADAMS (1966-1972)
Portrait by George Augusta
Gift of the Trustees
Presidents Horton, Clapp, and Adams in the Wellesley College Club in 1966.
1
President Barbara Warne Newell receiving the symbolic keys of the College from
Nelson A. Darling, Jr., Chairman of the Board of Trustees.
The Selection Committee composed of trustees, faculty, and students which
nominated Mrs. Newell as Wellesley's tenth president.
ELLA KEATS WHITING
The Faculty
The Faculty of Wellesley College could be the subject of an entire
book rather than a chapter. The selection that is required to tell this
story in a single chapter inevitably will result in the omission of
many persons and events important in the history of the College. The
story is one of growth, of many changes, and yet of continuity — a con-
tinuity provided by the overlapping of generations of teachers in their
service to the College, and also by the fact that the function of the College
has remained constant throughout its history, though the ways of per-
forming that function have changed with changing times. That it was
originally and still is a college of the liberal arts devoted chiefly to the
education of women undergraduates, most of them living on the cam-
pus, has influenced the selection of the faculty and the nature of their
work.
When Mr. Durant assembled his first faculty there were not many
women who were prepared for college teaching; nevertheless, he decided
that the faculty should be composed of women. At Vassar College, which
had opened a decade earlier, although there were more women teachers
than men on the faculty, most of the professors were men. It is interest-
ing to note that the editor of Godey's Lady's Book and Magazine in
February 1864 called attention with disapproval to the preponderance of
men in the professorships of Vassar College. In the June 1876 issue of the
same magazine there is an account of the opening of Wellesley College
which contains this statement: "This is a women's college. President, pro-
fessors, and students are all women." There is no comment; apparently
none was necessary. Surely it was a noteworthy achievement on Mr. Du-
rant's part to be able to appoint in the year 1875 a group of women of
unusual gifts and abilities.
The first president, Ada Howard, had taught at Western College in
Oxford, Ohio, but only one of the original group of professors had had
87
88 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
previous experience in college teaching. That was Frances E. Lord, Pro-
fessor of Latin, who had taught for seven years at Vassar College. Al-
though several members of this first faculty were college graduates, this
was not a requirement. For example, Mary Elizabeth Horton, Professor
of Greek from 1875 to 1887, had not attended any college. At the time of
her death in 1918 President Pendleton said, "Miss Horton had the nature
of the true scholar, — precision, enthusiasm, a keen and original mind,
and power of intense application." There were other members of the
earliest faculty who, although largely self-trained, were true scholars.
It was to be many years before the Ph.D. degree became the normal
preparation for college teaching in the United States. Alice Freeman, who
came to Wellesley in 1879 as Professor of History and was made President
in 1881, had done graduate work at the University of Michigan. Although
she did not complete her thesis, in 1882 the University conferred upon
her the Ph.D. degree. The next members of the faculty to hold Ph.D.'s
were Thomas B. Lindsay, who was appointed Instructor of Sanskrit in
1886, and Helen W. Webster, who in 1890 joined the faculty as Professor
of Comparative Philology. During the first century the proportion of
the faculty holding the Ph.D. has increased steadily until today when al-
most all members of the faculty have earned that degree.
We also find that specialization has gradually increased. Sarah Frances
Whiting of the original faculty taught both physics and astronomy for
many years. It was in her classes that Annie Jump Cannon '84, who be-
came one of the foremost astronomers of her day, first studied astronomy.
Elizabeth Kendall, who joined the faculty in 1879, was first instructor in
French, then in German, then in history and political science, and finally
Professor of History. Katharine Coman, a friend of Jane Addams, who
initiated the study of economics at Wellesley, began in 1880 as an in-
structor in rhetoric, then having served as Professor of History for some
time, she retired in 1913 as Professor of Political and Social Science. It
is surprising to the scholar of today to learn that Mary Whiton Calkins,
the distinguished philosopher and psychologist, began her teaching at
Wellesley in 1887 as a tutor in Greek. People who joined the faculty in
later years usually were trained in their graduate work in a single disci-
pline and did their teaching in that discipline. Now, with changes that
have brought some fields of knowledge that were once separate into closer
relationships, the College is interested in making some interdisciplinary
appointments.
The first faculty chosen by Mr. Durant consisted of seven professors,
who were heads of departments, and eleven teachers of academic sub-
jects, who were not given the rank of professor. In addition there were a
number of administrative officers and teachers of non-academic subjects.
All of them were women except Charles H. Morse, Professor of Music.
THE FACULTY 89
They all were members of evangelical churches, and all except Mr.
Morse lived in College Hall. To college teachers of today this may seem
to be a narrow community, perhaps even a dull one, but they should
remember the excitement and interest for this group of being called upon
to build a new college for women.
Indeed, in the first quarter century many new paths had to be opened.
It was in introducing the laboratory method in the sciences and in art
that Wellesley was in advance of many colleges which had been estab-
lished earlier. Susan M. Hallowell, who was appointed Professor of Nat-
ural History in 1875, spent her first year visiting universities in the United
States and in Europe before returning to Wellesley to open a laboratory.
Then in 1876 Mr. Durant appointed Sarah F. Whiting as Professor of
Physics and gave her two years to study the instruction in physics at
several universities to prepare herself to establish a department here. In
1878 she opened in College Hall the second student laboratory in the
United States for experimentation in physics. The only one to precede
it was at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Then in 1891 Mary
Whiton Calkins established one of the earliest psychological laboratories
in the United States and the first in a college for women. Next in 1897
came Alice Van Vechten Brown, who accepted appointment as Professor
of Art only when the trustees agreed that work in the studio — drawing,
painting, and modeling — could be given in connection with courses in
art history. The purpose of this work was to enable students through
their own experience in the laboratory to understand better the works
of art which they were studying. So began what later came to be known
among teachers of the history of art as "The Wellesley Method." These
are some of the innovations that show the forward thrust of Mr. Durant's
plans and the ability and resourcefulness of the early faculty in realizing
them.
The steady growth of the student body during the first quarter century
was a product of the times, but surely also the excellent quality of the
faculty and their good teaching contributed significantly to this growth.
We see fruits of their work in several graduates of the early years who
were to become professors in the College. Annie Sybil Montague, who
graduated with the first class in 1879, was a gifted teacher of Greek until
her death in 1914. In the Class of 1880 there were two women who were
to have an important influence upon the young college. Charlotte Fitch
Roberts, a chemist who earned her Ph.D. at Yale in 1894, the first year in
which Yale granted this degree to women, taught at Wellesley from 1880
to 1917, except for some interruptions for study here and abroad. Her
book, Development and Present Aspects of Stereochemistry, which was
published in 1896, was one of the earliest books on that subject in the
English language. Katharine Lee Bates of the same class, author of
9° WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
"America the Beautiful," poet and teacher, gave a lifetime of work from
1885 to 1925 to Wellesley College where, with the help of colleagues, she
built in her day a distinguished Department of English Literature. Al-
though known primarily as a poet, she also engaged in scholarly work,
writing numerous articles, editing several English classics, and publishing
a valuable study, The English Religious Drama (1893). They were fol-
lowed by Eleanor Gamble '89, who received her Ph.D. at Cornell in 1898.
She too spent many years at Wellesley as a beloved teacher and scholar,
becoming well known for her research in sensory psychology. Martha Hale
Shackford '96, Ph.D. Yale 1901, a stimulating colleague and teacher,
brought strength to the Department of English Literature during her
long years of service. She published many scholarly articles which were
pointed directly toward the enrichment of the courses she was teaching.
An alumna who graduated fifty years ago said recently, "I think I learned
from Miss Shackford what it means to be a scholar." These five women
were taught by the faculty of Wellesley's first two decades and I think a
faculty of any college in any period would be proud to number them
among its graduates.
I have spoken of the continuity provided by the overlapping in time
of the terms of service of members of the faculty. It was not until 1916
that the College lost by retirement the last of the professors who had been
appointed by Mr. Durant: Ellen Hayes, Professor of Mathematics, and
Sarah F. Whiting, Professor of Physics and later of Astronomy. Perhaps
the most striking example of continuity is found in the Department of
Physics where Miss Whiting was the teacher of Louise McDowell '98,
who served the College as teacher, chairman of her department, and
scholar from 1909 to 1945. She, in turn, was the teacher of Janet Brown
Guernsey '35, now the Louise McDowell Professor of Physics. I think
it is worth noting that the work at Wellesley of these three able women
spans the first century of the life of the College.
Continuity has been preserved and tradition strengthened by the
presence in the administration as well as in the faculty of many gradu-
ates of the College. Wellesley has given to itself two great presidents (and
I have chosen the adjective with sober care): Ellen Fitz Pendleton '86 and
Margaret Clapp '30. For thirty-three years, from 1919 to 1952, the office
of Dean of Residence was filled by alumnae who set high standards for the
life of students on the campus: Edith Tufts '84; Mary Cross Ewing '98;
and Ruth H. Lindsay '15, who was also Associate Professor of Botany.
Also three academic deans, longtime members of the faculty, were alum-
nae. Each one used her strength and wisdom for the benefit of the Col-
lege. Lucy Wilson '09, Professor of Physics, was Dean of Students from
1939 to 1954; Teresa G. Frisch, M.A. '42, Professor of Art, was Dean of
Students from 1954 to 1966; and Virginia Onderdonk '29, Professor of
THE FACULTY 91
Philosophy, was Dean of the College from 1963 to 1968.
Ever since that first group, which I have described earlier, joined the
faculty in the 1880s many graduates of the College have been members
of the teaching staff. In the 1930s over twenty percent of the faculty were
alumnae, nearly all of them having earned higher degrees in other col-
leges or universities. Now in the 1970s only about ten percent are gradu-
ates of Wellesley. Many of these alumnae have been strong and influen-
tial teachers and some have been distinguished scholars receiving wide
recognition for their books and articles of lasting value.
Every year the President's Report names professors who are retiring
and mentions the length of service at Wellesley for each one. A good
many retire having been here for twenty-five to thirty years, but it is im-
pressive to find some who were members of this faculty for over forty
years. Some of these I have known and I can testify to their vitality as
teachers and scholars throughout their long tenure. Such people help
to preserve the best traditions of the College and to provide stability as
well as continuity.
But this theme should not be stressed too much because the faculty
has been enriched by having here for short periods some exceptional
young people who have gone on to important careers elsewhere. Mary E.
Woolley, who became President of Mount Holyoke College in 1901,
taught for the preceding five years in the Department of Biblical History.
It is interesting that a member of the Class of 1901 returning to Wellesley
for her seventieth reunion vividly recalled Miss Woolley's interest in the
students living in College Hall and her hospitality in inviting small
groups to tea in her room. I think of two gifted young men who were here
in the 1920s: Alfred H. Barr, Instructor in Art, who later became Director
of the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and Randall Thompson of
the Department of Music, who in later years achieved distinction as a
composer. An alumna who sang in the choir when he was the conductor
still remembers that sometimes he would bring his own new compositions
for them to sing and that "it was a very exciting experience." In the early
1940s Julia Henderson, who initiated our Washington internship pro-
gram, was a lively teacher in the Department of Political Science. She
later held the highest post occupied in her period of service by a woman
in the Secretariat of the United Nations. Also in the 1940s Paul L. Leh-
mann, a distinguished theologian, spent five years at Wellesley where col-
leagues and students were stimulated by his probing mind. After leaving
Wellesley he became a professor at the Harvard Divinity School and later
at Union Theological Seminary. The search for able young people such
as these to fill vacancies has been a constant preoccupation of the presi-
dents and of the senior faculty. Through these appointments the faculty
is renewed and refreshed as the new instructors come with the most recent
92 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
training in the graduate schools of the great universities. Whether they
remain at Wellesley or stay here for only a short time, many in their early
years of teaching make valuable contributions to the experience of stu-
dents and colleagues.
During Wellesley's first century the composition of the faculty has
changed drastically. We know that it was Mr. Durant's policy to appoint
women and that apparently he appointed men only when he could not
find qualified women. I have already mentioned Charles H. Morse, Pro-
fessor of Music, in the original faculty. He was unusually well prepared
for college teaching, having studied at Boston University where in 1876
he received probably the first Bachelor of Music degree to be given in
the United States. In 1884 he left Wellesley, and in 1901 became the first
Professor of Music at Dartmouth College. Most of the men appointed in
the early years were here only for short terms. In 1882, however, Wil-
liam H. Niles came to take charge of geology, sharing his time with Mas-
sachusetts Institute of Technology. In 1895, twenty years after the open-
ing, there were still only two male professors: Mr. Niles, and Junius Hill,
who had succeeded Mr. Morse as Professor of Music; and there were
four men listed as instructors. During the first century the number of men
on the faculty has increased steadily from fifteen percent of the faculty
in 1925, to twenty-five percent in 1950, and to about forty-five percent
now as the Centennial approaches. There is no indication in the reports
of the various presidents that it was a matter of deliberate policy of the
College to increase the number of men, although sometimes in some de-
partments this has been the case. We do know that in certain periods it
has been difficult to find qualified women because of a decline between
1930 and the 1960s in the number of women in relation to the number
of men who prepared themselves for college teaching by earning the Ph.D.
degree. The Commission on the Future of the College, which was estab-
lished by President Adams, reported to the Trustees in March 1971. The
report called attention to the fact that Wellesley has a higher percentage
of women on the faculty than any of our sister colleges, indeed "probably
the highest percentage of any secular college in the country." Because op-
portunities for women are still limited in most colleges and universities,
the Commission recommended that in future years at least half of the
faculty should be women. Also President Newell, in discussing plans for
the future of the College, has said that the present strong representation
of women on the faculty should be maintained.
Another change in the composition of the faculty has been a marked
increase, especially in the last twenty years, in the number of married
women. To make it easier for married women to serve on the faculty
the Commission recommended the establishment of a day care center for
children on the campus. In 1973 a fortunate arrangement was made. The
THE FACULTY 93
Wellesley Community Child Care Center, Inc. leased facilities at the
College. This center serves the children of working mothers in the town
and also at the College.
Mr. Durant's religious beliefs have been described in an earlier chapter
of this book. We find an expression of these beliefs in the earliest bylaws
of which the College has a record, those of 1885, where it is stated that
every trustee, teacher, and officer "shall be a member of an Evangelical
Church." Because this requirement for the selection of the faculty was
not included in the act of incorporation of the College, the Trustees have
been free to amend the bylaws. The published records show that this has
been done at least three times. In 1898 when the bylaws were next pub-
lished a change, which had, however, taken place earlier, was included.
The requirement of membership in an Evangelical Church was removed,
but every teacher was to be "of decided Christian character and influence,
and in manifest sympathy with the religious spirit and aim with which
the College was founded." In 1954 the statement was revised to read:
"The members of the faculty shall be selected with a view to maintaining
the Christian purpose of the College." The latest version of the bylaws
(1967) simply states that "members of the faculty shall be selected with a
view to maintaining the highest ideals of education." The reasons for
these changes, although too complex to describe here, stem from
changes in the larger society of which Wellesley is a part. As one result
the present faculty is far more diversified in ethnic and religious back-
ground than the earlier faculty which, except for the European teachers
of foreign languages, was composed chiefly of Anglo-Saxon Protestants.
It should be remembered, however, that that faculty was also a strong
one and suited to its period.
The Europeans on the faculty have brought welcome variety in educa-
tional background and in point of view. Carla Wenckebach, who came in
1884, an unusually forceful teacher, built a strong department of German.
At the same time Rosalie See came from Vassar to take charge of French
and she, also, was highly successful. At first instruction in Italian and
Spanish was given by part-time teachers, but later these also became full-
fledged departments. A signal honor came to the Italian Department
when Gabriella Bosano, Professor of Italian from 1930 to 1952, was in-
vited to establish the Italian summer school at Middlebury College. She
served as its director for seven years. I wish there were space in this
chapter to pay tribute to some of the other vivid personalities and splen-
did teachers from these four countries. Most of the foreigners on the fac-
ulty have been Europeans because of the emphasis in the curriculum on
the languages and literatures of Europe. With changes in the curriculum
in future years probably there will be more Asians and Africans than now,
and thus the faculty will be still more diversified in its composition.
94 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Because of the revolutions occurring in Europe in the twentieth cen-
tury, several interesting people who left their countries for political rea-
sons joined our faculty. Among them were three distinguished authors of
international reputation. Vladimir Nabokov, novelist, came first in 1941
for a year as a visiting lecturer in Comparative Literature and returned
in 1944 to be our first teacher of Russian. Friends here still remember
his wit and his brilliant use of our language. From the Spanish Revolu-
tion in 1936 came the distinguished poet and critic, Pedro Salinas, and
in 1940 he was succeeded by another famous Spanish poet, Jorge Guillen,
who remained as professor in the department until 1958. From Germany
in the Hitler period Hedwig Kohn came to the Department of Physics
where she spent ten busy years from 1942 to 1952 as teacher and active
research worker. After her retirement from Wellesley she was appointed
Research Associate in Physics at Duke University. Of course, Wellesley
was not alone in having its faculty enriched by the exodus from Europe
of many courageous intellectuals who were seeking escape from totali-
tarian regimes.
We know that the College began as a tightly knit community with fac-
ulty, administrative officers, and students all living in College Hall. As
other dormitories were built there were always some resident faculty in
each one. In 1900 President Hazard reported that there were sixty-one
members of the faculty living in dormitories and that this number, in
addition to heads of house and officers of administration, occupied too
large a proportion of the available rooms. Upon her recommendation the
Trustees increased the salaries of the faculty by $300 and gave them the
option of living outside or of remaining in college rooms and paying
$300 for the privilege. With this choice available twenty-seven people
moved out, but thirty-nine chose to stay. Since then there has been a
slow but steady exodus. However, in the 1920s and 1930s a good many
senior professors and others still lived in the dormitories, some becoming
friends with students through the practice of having faculty tables at
dinner and also because of living as neighbors in the corridors. There
is a loss for students in the absence of some of the learned people who
happily made their homes in the dormitories. I think of Sophie C. Hart,
who joined the faculty in 1892, and in her forty-five years here developed
a large Department of English Composition. In her rooms in Tower
Court, which were decorated with treasures from the Orient, she enter-
tained many foreign students, especially students from Japan. Elizabeth
W. Manwaring '02 of the same department lived in a suite in Stone Hall
until her retirement in 1947. There she had her valuable library of first
editions of the English poets, including many autographed copies of the
works of contemporary poets who were her friends. I think also of Eliza-
beth Donnan, Professor of Economics, who lived in the dormitories
THE FACULTY 95
throughout her years at Wellesley from 1920 to 1949. She was an active
scholar who was recognized especially for her edition of Documents Illus-
trative of the Slave Trade to America (four volumes 1931-1935). She found
time to read aloud regularly with small groups of students in her rooms.
As the faculty left the campus those who could afford it either built
or bought houses in the village. Then in 1922 the Hallowell apartments
were ready for occupancy and in 1923 Horton House opened, a faculty
club with a dining room and with suites upstairs. Later a second apart-
ment house was built, Shepard House. These facilities, just opposite the
East Lodge, were near the campus and those who lived there could easily
participate in events at the College, and some had their seminars meet in
their apartments. As the number of married people on the faculty in-
creased more houses for families were needed. President Horton and
President Clapp both thought it important to provide living quarters
near the College, and during their administrations the housing available
to the faculty on the campus and in the town was increased substantially.
President Clapp also built the Wellesley College Club for faculty and
alumnae, a delightful meeting place for members of the College.
In the first half century there seems to have been on the part of the
faculty an unusually strong sense of the College as one community. Per-
haps there is no better illustration of "one community" than the legend,
based I feel sure on fact, that Miss Calkins, who lived always with her
family in Newton, in the formal fashion of the period called on new
members of the faculty in all departments, not just in her own. A larger
college and changing times have inevitably brought some diminution in
this sense of community. President Horton in her last report spoke of
"vastly more pull of faculty and students off campus" and commented
upon the increasing identification of members of the faculty with pro-
jects outside the College. There is in this both gain and loss. Although
the College should not be isolated from the town and the city, a valuable
part of the experience of undergraduates lies in friendships with some of
their teachers who live nearby and have time for them. I think especially
of the Sunday "at homes" of Elizabeth Hodder, Professor of History
from 1905 to 1942, where both faculty and students found a cordial wel-
come and good talk. Seal Thompson, an influential member of the Society
of Friends, was Professor of Biblical History from 1916 to 1941. An in-
spiring teacher, she was a true friend and adviser to many students, al-
ways ready to receive them in her office and in her apartment in Hallowell
House. For many years, 1924 to 1952, Thomas H. Procter, Professor of
Philosophy, and Mrs. Procter kept open house on Sunday evenings where
there was music and lively conversation. It is interesting to recall that
Mr. Procter was affectionately called "Mr. Plato" by his students. Later
Henry Schwarz, Professor of History from 1942 to 1970, whose polished
9^ WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
lectures in Central European History were appreciated by his students,
with his Austrian wife entertained many students delightfully at their
house on Cottage Street.
Although "at homes" and formal "calls" are no longer the fashion, in
the present day many members of the faculty entertain students infor-
mally in their homes and others use the Wellesley College Club and the
Schneider Center to entertain groups of students. Also, the opportunities
for students to invite their teachers to the dormitories have been ex-
panded. Formerly one night a week was set aside for this purpose but
now students may invite their teachers for either lunch or dinner on any
day. Thus Wellesley continues to be a college where teachers know their
students outside of their classrooms and where friendships can develop.
However, for the faculty this has become more difficult as their involve-
ment in responsibilities outside the College has increased.
From the beginning the heads of departments shared with the President
certain responsibilities for the governance of the College, but soon a more
formal organization ot the whole faculty was developed. The statutes,
which were published in 1885, show that by that date there were two
faculty bodies. The Academic Council, which consisted of the President
and professors and associate professors, had charge of the academic ad-
ministration and the discipline of the College. A larger body, called "The
Faculty," included, in addition to members of Academic Council, in-
structors and resident officers. This body decided questions relating to
the personal life and conduct of the students and the social and religious
life of the College. In 1910 "The Faculty" as a separate body was given up
and the Academic Council became a single governing body consisting of
the President, professors and associate professors, "and such other officers
of instruction and administration as may be given this responsibility by
vote of the trustees."
When I first joined the faculty in 1928 all instructors were non- voting
members of the Council and the debate in the meetings was conducted
almost exclusively by senior professors. Although largely silent, the
younger members enjoyed the sparring between Myrtilla Avery and So-
phie Hart, who seemed to take opposite sides on every question. Julia
Orvis was there to prick any platitude with her ironic wit; Louise Mc-
Dowell to bring order out of confusion; Alfred Sheffield to set us straight
on parliamentary law. Mary Lowell Coolidge was Dean of the College
from 1931 to 1938 and continued as Professor of Philosophy until her
retirement in 1957. During all these years her voice in Council was one
of reason and common sense, and many a debate was shortened because
of the solutions to problems which she proposed objectively and fairly.
Over the years junior members of the Academic Council have become
more courageous about speaking and the voting membership has been
THE FACULTY 97
enlarged. When President Horton returned to the College after her serv-
ice as Captain of the WAVES in the Second World War, she thought that
the younger members of the faculty should be given more responsibility.
In 1946 the Council voted that all assistant professors and full-time aca-
demic instructors in their second year at the College should become voting
members. In 1969 a radical change was adopted which extended the vote
to members of the faculty on full-time appointment in their first year at
Wellesley. Thus the power of the vote was given to people who do not yet
know the College well and who may be here for only one year. Also, the
trend throughout the country for students to participate in governing
their colleges has resulted in the admission of twenty students as non-
voting members of the Council. Although they may not vote, they have
the privilege of speaking. It is too soon to judge whether or not the pres-
ence of students in faculty meetings and on faculty committees in our
American colleges will be beneficial. The experiment is, nevertheless,
worth making and the results will be watched with interest.
Committees have always been with us. President Shafer in 1893 referred
to ten standing committees of the faculty and said "there is no escape
from burdening teachers with administrative cares." Although most of
the committees were elected by the Academic Council, it is interesting
to note that for many years certain important matters were firmly held
in the President's hands. In 1900 the President first appointed a Commit-
tee on Curriculum and Instruction to serve with her in deciding what
courses should be given. Apparently before that time these decisions were
made by the President in consultation with the head of each department.
Ten years later this became an elected committee with the Dean serving
as its chairman. In 1930 for the first time there was a Committee on Reap-
pointments, Promotions, and Dismissals, elected by the Council to advise
the President in these important matters. The President was always
chairman of this committee until a reorganization of committees in
1968-69 gave the chairmanship to a faculty member while the President
continued as an ex officio member. Realization of the need for continu-
ity in the chairmanship of this important committee has brought another
change. Since 1973-74 the Dean of the College has served as chairman.
This committee is no longer advisory to the President but acts with power
in voting on recommendations to be made by the President to the Board
of Trustees. However, final authority now, as in the past, rests with the
Trustees.
Wellesley has not been immune to the tendency of human organiza-
tions to become more and more complex as time passes. The ten standing
committees of President Shafer's day have increased to twenty-five, and in
addition faculty representatives now serve on six committees of the
Board of Trustees. Active members of the faculty do not serve on the
98 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Board, but in 1923 the trustees granted to the Academic Council the
privilege of nominating one member of the Board of Trustees with the
stipulation that the nominee should not be a present member of the
faculty. The nominees of the Council have always been scholars with
experience in college teaching and all except two have been former mem-
bers of the Wellesley faculty.
In 1917 a change in the organization of the academic departments took
place. Previously there had been a "Head of Department" appointed to
that office by the President. Henceforth, department members of Council
rank would elect their own chairman for a stated term.
The changes which I have been describing, the widening membership
of the Academic Council, the relinquishing by the President of certain
powers, service by the faculty on committees of the Trustees, have made
the government of the College more democratic. But these changes also
have increased the responsibilities of the faculty and the time that they
must give to work on committees.
We know that in the nineteenth century and the early decades of the
twentieth everywhere in the United States teachers were poorly paid for
their work. This was also true at Wellesley and we find that as late as
1920 an instructor began at $1,400 and a full professor retired having
attained a salary of $3,500. This was a low scale of payment when com-
pared with the earnings of members of other learned professions at that
time. An emeritus professor, who taught during the lean years, said to
me recently, "I never felt poor." I think this is worth remembering. In
the days of good train service between Wellesley and Boston, automo-
biles were not necessary and only a few members of the faculty owned
them. Television sets and other appliances which are now in every house
did not exist. These teachers with their modest salaries were able to buy
books, to travel, to live a good life.
Each of the Presidents has tried to improve the economic position of
the faculty. After the Second World War President Horton was able to
announce a new salary scale to take effect in 1946 whereby the minimum
for an instructor was $2,200 and the minimum for a full professor was
$5,000. Twenty years later at the end of President Clapp's administration
in her last Report to the Trustees she gave the average compensation
for each rank. For an instructor it was $7,942 and for a full professor
$16,404. And the upward movement has continued in President Adams's
and President Newell's administrations. For the year 1973-74 the esti-
mated average compensation including all benefits was $12,615 for an
instructor and $26,979 for a full professor. Of course, inflation has been
an important factor so that the change in the buying power of the dollar
has made these increases less spectacular than the figures would seem to
indicate. Nevertheless, there has been real improvement over the years.
THE FACULTY 99
Not only were salaries low in the early years, but, also, no provision
was made for retirement. We find in President Hazard's report in 1908
that Professor Niles of the Geology Department retired with a pension
from the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, being
the first person at Wellesley who was eligible on grounds of years of serv-
ice and of age. He was followed by others who qualified to receive Car-
negie pensions. It was not until 1927 that the College had its own pension
plan, a contributory one for pensions and insurance for the faculty. In
1937 this was replaced by a new plan which involved the purchase of an-
nuities in the Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association. Over the
years the percentage of salary contributed by the College and by indi-
vidual members of the faculty has increased to provide better annuities
upon retirement. Other benefits have been added to include an improved
sick leave policy and better life insurance. Thus we see that through the
efforts of our Presidents, working in cooperation with the Trustees, and
through the great generosity of the alumnae and others who have given
so much to salary advancement funds, there has been steady improvement
in the economic position of the faculty.
The long years of service of many members of the faculty in the early
decades suggests that there was "tenure" for certain members of the fac-
ulty in practice although not in legislation. In 1923 the Academic Coun-
cil voted that "the reappointment of a professor or associate professor for
a second term should be construed as establishing in general a reasonable
expectation of permanency." In 1942, in President Horton's administra-
tion, a Faculty Appointment and Tenure Policy was adopted by the
Academic Council and approved by the Board of Trustees. In this new
policy tenure could be acquired not only upon reappointment as professor
or associate professor, but also upon "reappointment to any professorial
rank after at least six years of service as assistant professor." As a result
of this change the fitness of members of the faculty for permanent ap-
pointment could be decided earlier in their careers when a negative de-
cision was less damaging than if it were made after service as an associate
professor. This has led to more careful evaluation of each person's
achievement and potential before the acquisition of tenure. In 1973 the
legislation concerning tenure was revised to include in the probationary
period an individual's years of teaching at other colleges before coming
to Wellesley. This provision is in accord with policies recommended by
the American Association of University Professors. It should be noted that
the decision to grant tenure has to depend not only upon the qualifica-
tions of an individual but also upon the availability of openings in his
department.
In the United States the concept of tenure was developed to assure free-
dom in their teaching to college faculties and also to protect them from
lOO WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
dismissal when, as private citizens, they became involved in political or
social activities of which the trustees of a college or university disap-
proved. At Wellesley throughout its history the faculty has been remark-
ably free from interference by the administration or the Trustees. There
have been radicals such as Vida Scudder, Professor of English Literature,
and Ellen Hayes, Professor of Mathematics; both were members of the
Socialist Party and both actively supported the strike of the mill workers
in Lawrence in 1912. In Miss Scudder's autobiography, On Journey
(1937), she tells of the "deluge" of letters received by the Trustees at this
time objecting to her conduct and her presence on the faculty. Fortu-
nately the Trustees did not ask for the resignation of this gifted woman
whose teaching at Wellesley had begun in 1888 and continued until 1928.
The titles of two of her books illustrate abiding interests of her life, for
she was always a social reformer and a deeply convinced Christian: Social
Ideals in English Letters (1898) and The Franciscan Adventure (1931).
I find only one instance in which a teacher may have been dismissed
for her radicalism and even that case is not clear. Emily G. Balch began
her teaching in the Department of Economics in 1896. She was an au-
thority on questions of immigration and author of Our Slavic Fellow Citi-
zens (1910). An ardent pacifist, in 1915 she went with Jane Addams and
other American women to the International Congress of Women at the
Hague, and in 1916 she was in Stockholm as a member of Henry Ford's
Neutral Conference on Continuous Mediation. After two leaves of ab-
sence extending from 1916 to 1918, one of her terms as a professor expired
in 1918. At this time the question of her reappointment came before the
Trustees who, after long deliberations which extended until April 1919,
decided not to reappoint her. It was a close vote and President Pendleton
was one who voted in favor of reappointment. In the absence of detailed
minutes we do not know whether this action was taken because of Miss
Balch's activity as a pacifist when the United States was engaged in the
First World War, or because of her long absences from the College to
attend to her outside interests. After leaving Wellesley she continued to
work for peace, chiefly through the Women's International League for
Peace and Freedom, and was honored in 1946 when she received the No-
bel Peace Prize, having been recommended for this honor by President
Horton.
It is interesting to note that Henry Raymond Mussey, Professor of Eco-
nomics from 1922 to 1940, except for a brief absence to serve as editor
of The Nation, had previously resigned from Columbia University in
protest against limitations on academic freedom there at that time. We
also know that in the McCarthy era, when Congress was investigating
subversive influences in New England colleges, Wellesley stood by its
faculty. Louise Pettibone Smith, Professor of Biblical History, was called
THE FACULTY 101
before the Jenner Committee because she was chairman of the American
Committee for the Protection of the Foreign Born, which was on the
Attorney General's list of subversive organizations. When Miss Smith
testified that she had never joined any organization which she considered
to be subversive her case was dismissed. Throughout this period President
Clapp and the Trustees gave the faculty wise advice and moral support.
The qualifications for promotion have remained fairly constant
throughout the years. President Irvine in her Report in 1897 mentioned
the promotion of Sophie Jewett to the rank of Associate Professor of Eng-
lish Literature and described it as "a promotion due the teacher, the
writer, and the woman." Miss Jewett was the author of a beautiful trans-
lation into modern English poetry of the long medieval poem, The Pearl
(1908). I have quoted President Irvine's statement because it says so much
in such a simple and direct way. Because Wellesley is primarily a college
for undergraduates, greater emphasis has been placed on teaching ability
than on research and publication, although the latter have not been neg-
lected. And the character and personality of the candidate have always
been considered important. In 1939 the legislation of the College stated
that "qualifications for promotion include enrichment of equipment,
teaching power, and personality." In 1946 the qualifications for promo-
tion to the rank of full professor were stated as follows: "It is the policy
of the College to expect recommendations of any candidate for the rank
of professor to be supported by unusually strong evidence of teaching
power and intellectual distinction." Now in the 1970s, although there are
slight modifications of phrasing, the standards are the same.
There has, however, been a marked change in the rate of promotion.
Whereas formerly it was not unusual for a member of the faculty to serve
several years as an instructor and then nine years as an assistant professor
and another nine years as an associate professor before becoming a full
professor, later it became normal to receive promotion after six years in
each of the lower professorial ranks. Also, formerly a young teacher with
the Ph.D. degree began service in the rank of instructor whereas now the
initial appointment of a person with that degree is at the rank of assist-
ant professor. Of course, this more rapid promotion makes a career at
Wellesley more attractive to able young people.
In President Clapp's Report to the Trustees after her first year in the
office of President she made an important statement about the faculty:
"Wellesley is fortunate in its present faculty. Wellesley has a number of
nationally known scholars, a number of brilliant teachers, and a splendid
faculty record for effective devotion to the needs and interests of students
considered individually. We must maintain that by assisting as much as
the budget permits the scholarly careers of our most promising young
teachers whom we hope to keep with us; by holding tenure standards so
102 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
high that each present permanent member of the faculty can take pride
in being colleague to the newcomer; and by so shaping our budget and
our attitudes that the higher professorial ranks are considered unusually
desirable positions. All of this is easier to say than to do, but it is worth
our every endeavor." President Clapp did give her "every endeavor" to
achieve the goals described here, and by her leadership she encouraged
the senior faculty to cooperate with her by recommending for tenure
only those most worthy of it.
In the first quarter century leaves of absence for research and writing
were granted occasionally to certain individuals. Then in 1902 a regular
policy was established when the Trustees voted that each full professor
should be eligible for a sabbatical year on half salary. In 1929 the Trus-
tees extended this privilege to associate and assistant professors and they
gave more flexibility by allowing an absence either for a semester with
full salary or for a year with half salary. The availability of a semester's
leave without any reduction of salary was helpful especially for people
with family responsibilities. In President Adams's administration very
generous financial arrangements were made for people on sabbatical
leave. The College would now guarantee a minimum stipend of $10,000
for a year's leave. But for a person with an especially important research
project, who had sought grants from outside sources, the College would
supplement such grants to make the stipend equivalent to his full salary
if he were teaching.
To carry out her objective of assisting the scholarly careers of our most
promising young teachers, President Clapp, with the support of the Trus-
tees, initiated in 1959 a program of leaves of absence for some junior
members of the faculty. This was, I believe, the first such program in the
country. It helped to make Wellesley attractive to some of the most gifted
young scholars by giving them an opportunity to pursue their research
intensively without having to wait until they became eligible for sab-
batical leaves of absence.
Members of the faculty have used their sabbaticals in a variety of ways.
Some have gone to distant lands in pursuit of knowledge. In 1902 Kath-
arine Coman of the Department of Economics went to Alaska and to the
Hawaiian Islands to make a study of the economic conditions in these
territories. Two years later Elizabeth Kendall, Professor of History, went
to India to study the colonial system there. And in 1911 she made her first
great journey through central China, travelling alone with her Irish ter-
rier and one Chinese servant. Finally, she crossed the Gobi Desert by
cart and at Irkutsk took the Trans-Siberian Railway back to Europe. This
bold journey and her record of it led to her election as a Fellow of the
Royal Geographical Society of Great Britain. Before the days of travel by
air these were very long journeys indeed.
THE FACULTY
IO3
Much later Louise Overacker, Professor of Political Science, who taught
at Wellesley from 1925 to 1957, having won recognition for her publica-
tions in the field of primaries, and also of money and elections, decided
to study the government of Australia. After she spent two leaves there her
important book, The Australian Party System, was published in 1952, and
in 1968 a second book, Australian Parties in a Changing Society. Miss
Overacker's distinguished work has been recognized by her election to
offices in the American Political Science Association, and in 1957 she
was made a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Har-
riet Creighton '29, who taught in the Department of Botany from 1940
to 1974, served twice as a Fulbright lecturer: first at Perth, Australia, and
later at the National University in Cuzco, Peru. In 1956 she was honored
by her election as President of the Botanical Society of America. Bartlett
Stoodley, a member of the Department of Sociology from 1947 to 1973,
spent two leaves in the Orient. During the first one he was a Fulbright
Lecturer at the University of the Philippines where he conducted re-
search on the family and community systems of that country. A second
leave was spent teaching at Chung Chi College near Hong Kong and
there he made a study of the Chinese student population in that city.
Leaves of this kind, spent in countries which are not often visited by
most of us, bring to the campus firsthand observations which can be very
useful. However, they should not be overemphasized, for the more usual
sabbatical year spent in a library or laboratory of a university here at
home can, of course, be very profitable for the person on leave and for
his colleagues and students when he returns.
Although throughout the history of the College strong emphasis has
been placed on good teaching, there has always been recognition of the
importance of the research activities of the faculty. In President Shafer's
Report for the year 1887-88 we learn that Ellen Hayes, Associate Profes-
sor of Mathematics, had spent a leave of absence at the observatory of
the University of Virginia and while there she had "determined a defini-
tive orbit of the newly discovered Minor Planet 267." In later Reports of
the Presidents we find appreciative references to books written by mem-
bers of the faculty: "Professor Scudder's scholarly edition of Shelley's
Prometheus Unbound has been a welcome event of the year." And in
another report: "Miss Calkins' recently published Introduction to Psy-
chology reflects honor on the College." Then for the first time the Presi-
dent's Report for 1905-06 contained an appendix giving a complete list
of publications of the faculty for that year, and thereafter it became a
regular practice to include this list in each President's Report. In 1926,
when the College was entering upon its second half-century, six books
were published by members of the faculty, each one from a distinguished
press, and in that same year numerous articles were also listed. In 1966
104 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
President Clapp reported that in the previous two years seventy-nine
members of the faculty had published fifteen books and over one hun-
dred and fifty scholarly articles, had edited or translated another seven
books and five musical scores, and had written many reviews. Certainly
this record gives evidence of a great deal of interest in research and writ-
ing in the 1960s.
During the first twenty-five years members of the faculty seem to have
supported their own research. It was not until 1902, as I have mentioned
earlier, that a policy of granting sabbatical leaves was established. In
later years the College not only appropriated funds to aid research in a
variety of ways, but it also provided subsidies for the publication of schol-
arly books written by members of the faculty. In recent decades there has
been a marked increase in financial support for research from sources out-
side the College, from the government and from private foundations.
Many members of the faculty have taken advantage of these opportuni-
ties, some receiving Guggenheim Fellowships and others Fulbright Fel-
lowships, and there have been many grants to aid research from such
government agencies as the National Science Foundation, the National
Institutes of Health, the Atomic Energy Commission, and the National
Endowment for the Humanities. Figures for the years 1966 through 1972
show that during this period research awards from outside the College
amounted to more than a million dollars.
It is apparent that in spite of their busy lives as teachers, many mem-
bers of the faculty have been productive scholars and some have been
well known outside the College. The laboratories established originally
for use in teaching the experimental methods of science have served as
centers for research by members of the faculty — and indeed because of
the active research of the faculty many students have been inspired to
become scholars themselves. There is space here to name only those scien-
tists whose research resulting in the publication of many articles over a
period of many years has been widely recognized outside the College.
In the physical sciences two alumnae have been very active in research.
In the Department of Chemistry Helen S. French, after graduating from
Wellesley in 1907, studied in Germany and in Switzerland, receiving her
Ph.D. at Zurich in 1913. From that time until her retirement in 1950 she
published regularly the results of her studies of the structure of organic
compounds in American chemical journals and sometimes in the proceed-
ings of the Royal Society in London. Another alumna whose articles
appeared in leading journals over a span of three decades was Louise S.
McDowell '98, who after earning her Ph.D. at Cornell taught in the De-
partment of Physics from 1909 until 1945. She was an authority in the
field of power loss in dialectrics. Twice she was affiliated with the Radio
Station of the Bureau of Standards where her appointment in 1918-1919
THE FACULTY
10 5
gave her the highest rank of any woman physicist in the Federal Civil
Service.
In the biological sciences the best known scholar in botany was Mar-
garet C. Ferguson, who taught at Wellesley from 1901 to 1932. Her mono-
graph, Life History of Pinus (1904), was considered authoritative both in
Europe and in the United States. For many years in the Wellesley lab-
oratory she conducted experiments in the field of genetics, studying es-
pecially the inheritance of color in petunias. In 1928 she was elected presi-
dent of the Botanical Society of America. Two early members of the De-
partment of Zoology unfortunately lost their research materials in the
College Hall fire. At a later period the laboratory once again became an
active center of research with the work of an alumna, Mary Austin '20,
who taught in the department from 1928 to 1961. With grants from the
National Institutes of Health she conducted research in protozoan genet-
ics and after retirement continued as a Research Scholar at Indiana Uni-
versity. From 1934 when E. Elizabeth Jones joined the faculty until her
retirement in 1964 she was one of Wellesley's most productive research
scientists. Her work on mammary tumors in mice received substantial
support for many years from the National Cancer Institute. Twice she
received fellowships to work at the National Cancer Institute in Maryland
and twice she presented papers at International Scientific Congresses in
Europe.
Mary Whiton Calkins, who has been mentioned earlier in this chapter
as the founder of the psychological laboratory at Wellesley, taught here
from 1887 to 1929. She was an outstanding scholar who achieved distinc-
tion both as a psychologist and as a philosopher. William James once de-
scribed her as "the first woman of the first rank in the history of philos-
ophy." Like William James she also was honored by being elected as
president of two associations: the American Psychological Association in
1905 and the American Philosophical Association in 1918. In the labora-
tory she conducted experimental studies in several fields, chiefly memory
and association, and was the inventor of a method of investigation which
is still widely used. In addition to numerous articles she published four
books, among them An Introduction to Psychology (1901) and The Per-
sistent Problems of Philosophy (1907). Her able colleague in the depart-
ment for many years was Eleanor Gamble '89, who has been mentioned
earlier in this chapter. In 1934 Miss Gamble was followed by Edna Heid-
breder, Professor of Psychology, who during her twenty years here was
one of Wellesley's steadily productive scholars. Her book, Seven Psychol-
ogies (1933), is still widely used in the United States and abroad in sev-
eral translations for the study of systems of psychology. Although she is
known for her work in several fields, probably of greatest interest to Miss
Calkins would have been her experiments, conducted in the Wellesley
106 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
laboratory, on the attainment of concepts, which made her an authority
in this field. Her work has been recognized by her election to offices not
only in the American Psychological Association but also in the National
Research Council and in the American Association for the Advancement
of Science.
In the social sciences and the humanities, although numerous articles
are written, the large research projects normally are presented in books
rather than in a series of articles. I have spoken earlier of Louise Over-
acker's distinguished work as a political scientist. In the same department
M. Margaret Ball, who taught at Wellesley from 1936 to 1963 before going
to Duke University, was the author of several important books. One of
these, NATO and the European Union Movement (1959), received first
prize in the International Atlantic Community Awards competition.
She has been honored by election as a Fellow of the American Academy
of Arts and Sciences. Leland H. Jenks, who taught at Wellesley from
1930 to 1957, was an economic historian and a sociologist. He was the
author of The Migration of British Capital to 1875 (1927), and Our
Cuban Colony (1928). An authority on the Caribbean region, in 1934 he
was made a member of the Commission on Cuban Affairs. Lucy W. Kil-
lough, Professor of Economics, who taught at Wellesley from 1929 to
1962, was a specialist in international economics and in public finance.
She was a productive scholar, author of numerous articles and in demand
as a lucid lecturer on problems of taxation. She collaborated with her
husband, Professor Hugh B. Killough of Brown University, in writing
several books on international economics. In 1951 during a sabbatical
leave spent in Taiwan she made a study of taxes and markets in that
country.
In 1920 the Department of History appointed its first specialist in Near
East History, Barnette Miller, who, like her predecessor Miss Kendall,
was a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society of Great Britain. Miss
Miller traveled widely in Arab countries, and in Central Asia she visited
Samarkand, the splendid capital of Tamerlane's empire. Her research
was concentrated on Turkey where she had lived for some years before
coming to Wellesley. She published two impressive books: Beyond the
Sublime Porte: The Grand Seraglio of Stamboul (1931), and The Palace
School of Muhammad the Conqueror (1941). E. Faye Wilson, who taught
in the History Department from 1941 to 1965, was a well known scholar
of the Middle Ages. A Councillor of the Mediaeval Academy of America,
she wrote numerous articles for Speculum, the journal of the Academy,
and she was also the editor of two works by the medieval poet John of
Garland. Ernest Lacheman, a member of the Department of Biblical
History from 1943 to 1971, was invited by the Harvard Semitic Museum
to edit its large collection of the cuneiform tablets of the ancient city
THE FACULTY
107
of Nuzi, an Assyrian town of the fifteenth century B.C. These studies
have been published by the Harvard University Press in a series of eight
volumes, Excavations at Nuzi (1929-1962). Mr. Lacheman was the editor
of volumes four through eight.
Several alumnae have been mentioned among the scientists; some of
our best scholars in other fields have also been Wellesley graduates. Myr-
tilla Avery '91, who taught in the Department of Art from 1912 to 1937,
was a well known medievalist with friends among the scholars of Paris
and of the Vatican Library. Her masterpiece was the folio volume, The
Exultet Rolls of South Italy (1936). Laura Hibbard Loomis '05, member
of the Department of English Literature from 1916 to 1943, was another
internationally known medievalist. She was the author of several books
and numerous articles on the Arthurian legend and on Chaucer's work.
The titles of two books illustrate her chief interests: Mediaeval Romance
in England (1925), and Arthurian Legends in Mediaeval Art (1938). An-
other alumna, Katharine C. Balderston '16, who taught in the Depart-
ment of English Literature from 1920 to 1960, became a distinguished
specialist in the literature of the eighteenth century. In 1933 she received
the honor of being the first woman to be appointed a Visiting Scholar
at the Huntington Library in Pasadena. After publishing three books on
Oliver Goldsmith, she turned her attention to other members of Dr. John-
son's circle. Her important book, Thraliana: The Diary of Hester Lynch
Thrale (1942), was awarded the Rose Mary Crawshay prize by the British
Academy in 1944. The work of another alumna, Dorothy Robathan '19,
who taught in the Latin Department from 1931 to 1963, was recognized
when she was elected President of the American Philological Association
in 1965. Her fields of special interest have been the transmission of clas-
sical authors in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, and also the topog-
raphy of Rome. Her book, The Monuments of Ancient Rome, was pub-
lished in 1950.
Among the Europeans on the faculty there have always been some
active scholars. For example, Marianne Thalmann, who taught in the
German Department from 1933 to 1953, was a student of the romantic
movement and has published several books on Ludwig Tieck. Her por-
trait has been hung in the Austrian National Library in Vienna. Ger-
maine Lafeuille, a member of the French Department from 1952 to 1975,
has won recognition as a writer on medieval and renaissance French lit-
erature. More unusual for a scholar is her ability to translate the works of
American poets into French. She has done verse translations of several
women poets, and in 1965 her book, Marianne Moore, Selected Poems,
a bilingual edition, was published in Paris.
Two members of the French Department, each with many years of serv-
ice to the College, received the Cross of the Chevalier of the Legion of
108 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Honor from the government of France. Andree Bruel, who taught at
Wellesley from 1927 to 1960, received her decoration "in recognition of
her distinguished service to French culture and Franco- American friend-
ship." And Dorothy W. Dennis '14, who spent more than forty years on
the faculty, 1917 to 1959, was honored "for her work with American stu-
dents studying in France."
Several members of the faculty have received prizes for their books;
two of them have been mentioned earlier in this chapter. In 1948 shortly
before coming to Wellesley as its president, Margaret Clapp had received
the important Pulitzer Prize for Biography for her book, Forgotten First
Citizen: John Bigelow, and later she received another honor when she
was elected a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Ola
Elizabeth Winslow, a specialist in American literature, who spent the
last six years of her teaching career at Wellesley, retiring in 1950, had
been awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1941 for her life of Jonathan Edwards.
She is the author of several interesting biographies, among them those
of John Eliot and Roger Williams. John McAndrew was a member of the
Department of Art from 1945 to 1968, and during many of those years
he was an unusually gifted Director of the Wellesley College Museum. His
book, The Open Air Churches of Sixteenth Century Mexico (1965), was
cited as the most distinguished work of scholarship in the history of
architecture published by a North American scholar in that year. In
1930 the Department of Art was fortunate in its appointment of Sirarpie
Der Nersessian, Docteur es Lettres of the Sorbonne, who later was awarded
the Prix Fould of the Institut de France. Her exceptionally distinguished
work in the field of Byzantine art was recognized by her appointment in
1946 by Harvard University as Professor of Byzantine Art and Archeol-
ogy. It should be noted that this appointment was made at a time when
there were only two other women at Harvard with the rank of full pro-
fessor.
Walter E. Houghton, who taught in the Department of English from
1942 to 1970, is well known as a writer on Victorian literature. One of
his books, The Victorian Frame of Mind, won the Christian Gauss Award
in 1957. This prize is presented annually by the Phi Beta Kappa Society
for the best book of literary scholarship published by a University Press.
In 1964 he was honored by election as a Fellow of the American Academy
of Arts and Sciences. In recent years he has devoted his time to The
Wellesley Index to Victorian Periodicals, 1824-1900, published by the
University of Toronto Press. Two volumes have been issued (1966 and
1972), and there are more to come. Mr. Houghton is the originator and
editor of this important work of reference, and his scholarly wife, Esther
Houghton, is one of the associate editors. When completed it will contain
tables of contents and an index of authors for articles appearing in some
THE FACULTY 10g
forty major Victorian periodicals. Since most of the writing was done
either anonymously or under pseudonyms, the identification of authors
is difficult but important because of the distinguished people who wrote
for these periodicals. They included, in addition to well known authors,
many political leaders, scientists, and philosophers. This impressive work
has been supported generously by grants from Wellesley College and
from the National Endowment for the Humanities. The fact that Mr.
Houghton has given it the title The Wellesley Index has brought honor
to the College.
At all times in Wellesley's history there have been a few creative artists
on the faculty: writers, musicians, painters. Some have been here for short
periods but others for many years. The first to receive recognition as an
author was Katharine Lee Bates whose work has been described earlier
in this chapter. Then in 1889 Margaret P. Sherwood came to teach Eng-
lish Literature. A scholar who was among the earliest group of women
to earn the Ph.D. at Yale, she was also a novelist, usually writing under a
pseudonym, whose first novel appeared in 1895 and her last, Pilgrim Feet,
in 1949 when she was eighty-five years old. One composer, Hubert Lamb,
taught in the Music Department from 1935 to 1974. His compositions for
chorus, orchestra, and chamber ensemble have been performed in concerts
at Wellesley and throughout the country. In 1963 the New England Con-
servatory awarded him the honorary degree of Doctor of Music. The con-
tinued success in the Art Department of the program of laboratory and
studio work, which had been introduced by Alice Van Vechten Brown,
can be attributed chiefly to Agnes Abbot, a distinguished water color
artist who taught here from 1920 to 1963, and after Miss Brown's retire-
ment in 1930 supervised all the laboratory and studio classes. Miss Abbot
has held many "one man" exhibitions and there are examples of her work
in the collections of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and of the Fogg
Museum in Cambridge.
In the preceding section of this chapter, I have been reporting on the
research and other creative work of members of the faculty whose tenure
fell within the first century of the life of the College and upon honors
that have been received by some of them. The account is, of course, not
exhaustive as many people who could not be named here have done
valuable work.
Now, when the College is entering its second century there is every
reason to believe that the faculty will be as strong and distinguished as
in the past. The ten year fund-raising program, which President Newell
has announced, includes increased support for salaries and for aids for
research. In the present faculty there are many able scholars who will
be teaching here after 1975 and whose work will be recorded in the next
history of Wellesley College. There is space here to give only a few ex-
HO WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
amples to illustrate the wide range of their interests and of their fields
of specialization.
In each of the science departments there are faculty members who
have received substantial grants from the government and from private
foundations. Virginia M. Fiske, Professor of Biology, is well known for
her research in endocrinology, research which has been supported gen-
erously by the National Institutes of Health. Another recipient of large
grants from the same organization and also from the National Science
Foundation is Helen A. Padykula, Professor in the Laboratory of Elec-
tron Microscopy. Always active in research, most recently she has directed
her major effort toward problems in the reproductive biology of mam-
mals.
In the humanities interesting work is being done by scholars who are
studying various periods and aspects of our cultural heritage. After the
discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls a number of well known scholars began
to work on them. At this time Lucetta Mowry, Professor of Biblical His-
tory, published a valuable book, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Early
Church (1962). In the French Department there are two versatile pro-
fessors whose books and articles deal with French literature both past
and present. Carlo R. Francois's work includes numerous articles on French
classical drama and a book on Saint-Exupery. His latest book discusses
"the notion of the absurd" in seventeenth century French literature. Ren£
M. Galand has concentrated chiefly on literature of the nineteenth cen-
tury. He has published a book on Renan and one on Baudelaire, and
his most recent book is on a later poet, Saint-John Perse. In the large
English Department there are specialists working in each of the great
periods of our literature. Among them is Patricia M. Spacks, Professor
of English, whose field is the poetry of the eighteenth century. Already
she has published four significant books dealing with this period; the
most recent one, An Argument of Images (1971), is a study of the poetry
of Alexander Pope. Her colleague, David Ferry, has won recognition as
a scholar specializing in Wordsworth and also as a poet whose work has
appeared in anthologies and in a number of leading periodicals in this
country and in England. He is the author of a volume of poems, On the
Way to the Island (1960).
Earlier in this chapter The Wellesley Index to Victorian Periodicals has
been described. There is another long term scholarly project which also
bears the name of the College. This is The Wellesley Edition, published
by the College, a series of scores of music of early periods which have
never before been published. Begun by Jan LaRue in 1950, the series at
present numbers fourteen volumes, eleven of them published since 1963
under the direction of Owen H. Jander.
Throughout the College there is a great deal of interest in the con-
THE FACULTY
temporary period. Mr. Jander, for example, whose chief field is music
of the baroque period, is also studying electronic music. It is to be ex-
pected that many scholars in the social sciences would be working on
contemporary problems. Carolyn S. Bell, Professor of Economics, special-
izes in the economics of consumption. She is the author of Consumer
Choice in the American Economy (1967), and The Economics of the
Ghetto (1970), and of numerous articles. In 1972 she was appointed a
public member of the National Advertising Review Board, the advertis-
ing industry's self-regulatory body. Marshall I. Goldman of the same
department is well known for his articles and books on the economics
of Russia. The Soviet Economy: Myth and Reality (1968) was his third
book in this field. He has also written on environmental problems.
Present members of the faculty, like their predecessors, have received
significant honors. Alona E. Evans, Professor of Political Science, a spe-
cialist in international law, has published many articles dealing with the
legal problems of asylum and other related topics. She has served on the
board of editors of the American Journal of International Law and in
1971 she received the Achievement Award of the American Association of
University Women. Edward V. Gulick, Professor of History, received
the Carnegie Endowment Award of the American Historical Association
for his book, Europe's Classical Balance of Power (1955). More recently
he has written chapters for the New Cambridge Modern History. An in-
vitation to contribute is one of the top honors for a scholar whose field
is modern European history. Curtis H. Shell, Professor of Art, who died
in 1974 while still on active service, wrote extensively on the painters of
the Italian Renaissance. In 1972 he was decorated with the rank of Com-
mendatore by the President of the Italian Republic in appreciation of his
work in rescuing the art of Florence after the devastating floods of 1965.
In writing about earlier periods I have spoken especially of alumnae
who have contributed in important ways to the College as teachers, schol-
ars, and administrators. It is good to know that on the present faculty
there are nine very able graduates of the College in the two upper pro-
fessorial ranks. Two of them have been involved in work that points di-
rectly to future developments in the College. Eleanor R. Webster '42,
Professor of Chemistry, has been interested in various aspects of contin-
uing education, the opportunity at Wellesley for study by women be-
yond the age of the undergraduates. From 1964 to 1972 she was director
of the Wellesley College Institute in Chemistry, and in 1969 she served
as the first director of Wellesley 's new program in Continuing Educa-
tion. This program has developed well and will be increased in scope
in future years. Mary R. Lefkowitz '57, Associate Professor of Greek and
Latin, was Vice Chairman of the Commission on the Future of the Col-
lege which was appointed by President Adams. Mrs. Lefkowitz was the
112 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
author of an important section of the report on "The Education and
Needs of Women," a matter of special interest to President Newell as she
plans for the future of the College.
At Wellesley emphasis has always been placed upon strong teaching.
It has not been possible in this chapter to mention the many fine teachers
of each generation who have been remembered gratefully by their stu-
dents. From their classes have come not only graduates who have later be-
come teachers at Wellesley, but many others who have become professors
in other colleges and universities. Also the faculty can take pride in
alumnae who have entered a variety of important and useful professions,
and in others who have held responsible posts as volunteers. A letter from
an alumna who is now a full professor in a distinguished university has
been received recently by an emeritus professor. The alumna wrote: "I
am very much aware of how strongly the spirit of inquiry that, in my
experience, was fostered at Wellesley has influenced my sustained atti-
tudes and intellectual values." She expressed gratitude for having begun
at Wellesley "the kind of life that has constantly generated intellectual
challenges and gratifications." I have quoted from this letter in order to
pay tribute to the teachers of all generations in the College.
The history of the faculty in four of our sister colleges (Bryn Mawr,
Mount Holyoke, Smith, and Vassar) which were founded in the nine-
teenth century as women's colleges, independent of any connection with
a university, is similar in many respects to our own. Wellesley is, how-
ever, unique in one respect, for it is the only college in this group that
has always had a woman as its president. This has, I believe, influenced
the selection of the faculty and may account for the higher percentage
of women on the faculty at Wellesley now and reaching back for many
years than in these sister colleges.
The faculty of Wellesley College has been fortunate in many ways. The
location has always been advantageous, near the theatres and concert
halls, the great libraries and museums of Boston and Cambridge. This
location has, for exmple, enabled the Music Department to employ mem-
bers of the Boston Symphony Orchestra as teachers of instrumental
music. Distinguished members of the Harvard faculty have always been
available for single lectures, and it is interesting to recall that before the
regulations of the University prevented professors from giving courses
elsewhere, in 1901 and again in 1909 Hugo Miinsterberg and George San-
tayana each gave a course at Wellesley, and in 1905 William James gave
a course on "Pluralism."
I have mentioned the availability of the great libraries of Boston and
Cambridge, but the advantages of our own library should not be over-
looked. As early as 1912 Sarah F. Whiting reported that the physics li-
brary was in advance of many college libraries in possessing complete
THE FACULTY 1J 3
files of the great periodicals. This is true in other fields as well, so that
in the collections of reference books, of periodicals, and of documents,
the faculty find many of the tools for their research at hand in the Mar-
garet Clapp Library.
For each generation of teachers there has been the privilege of working
in a beautiful setting on the spacious acres of Mr. Durant's estate. There
is no better place to enjoy New England's changing seasons than at home
on the Wellesley campus.
Throughout the history of the College there have been privileges of
deeper significance. The faculty have had in their classes many young
women with serious purpose and exceptionally good intellectual ability.
Also, there has been the privilege of association with one's colleagues
on the faculty, colleagues who could be enjoyed as companions and
many who could be admired for their distinction as teachers and scholars.
And underpinning all their work, in the College as I knew it for thirty-
three years, there was the steady support of the presidents and trustees,
and a sense of security stemming from the integrity of the College, an
integrity from which the faculty have benefited and which they in turn
have helped to maintain.
Opening Convocation, with President Margaret Clapp preceding Deans Teresa G. Frisch and Ella Keats Whiting.
1 *f ' '^ , ft
.-.
Miniatures on ivory of Miss Brown and Miss Avery by Artemis Tavshanjian
ALICE VAN VECHTEN BROWN
Art
VIDA D. SCUDDER
English Literature
MYRTILLA AVERY
Art
MARGARET SHERWOOD and MARTHA H. SHACKFORD
English Literature
mary e. horton and mother
Greek
MARY WHITON CALKINS
Philosophy and Psychology
SOPHIE c. hart
English Composition
EMILY G. BALCH
Economics
ELIZABETH HODDER
History
ELIZA H. KENDRICK
Biblical History
LOUISE S. MCDOWELL
Physics
MARCARET C. FERGUSON
Botany
ELIZABETH W. MANWARING
English
KATHARINE LEE BATES
English
ELEANOR A. MCC. GAMBLE
Psychology
ANNIE K. TUELL
English
fm «£*, '
^ ! P rv H 1
SEAL THOMPSON
Biblical History
HENRY F. SCHWARZ
History
Jl
^^^pjB |fid
^ ' "m
ffiS^K i
A *>A
fa •• V
V
. •" i **> -^ ~^- •■>.•
THOMAS HAYES PROCTER
Philosophy
LOUISE OVERACKER
Political Science
ELEANOR R. WEBSTER
Chemistry
MARY R. LEFKOVVITZ
Greek
HUBERT W. LAMB
Music
CAROLYN S. BELL
Economics
ALONA E. EVANS
Political Science
VIRGINIA ONDERDONK
Philosophy
ALICE STONE ILCHMAN
A Footnote to
Keats Whiting
If I were asked to characterize the intellectual life at Wellesley College,
I might say, as a new academic dean, that it reminds me a bit of Hindu-
ism. Both have an enormous capacity to absorb external values, yet both
modify them to the point that they are appropriate and useful to their
own contexts. Moreover, like Hinduism, Wellesley College seems to
nurture and entertain what appear to be contradictions.
As an example of this capacity to synthesize, to bring together the new
and the old, we might look at the impact of graduate and specialized
education on the curriculum of the liberal arts college. The pressures on
the curriculum at Wellesley or elsewhere to replicate the offerings of a
graduate department are constant. Young scholars come from increasingly
specialized graduate departments and, of course, wish to teach in their
speciality. Although the size of the faculty ordinarily does not expand,
our college curriculum expands to allow this expression of virtuoso ac-
complishment. For instance, the very excellent History Department has
managed to expand the thirty-three courses taught by fourteen faculty
members in 1962 to a total of sixty-one courses taught by thirteen faculty
in 1974. How can this be done? These courses are taught in alternate
years, fewer sections of the same course are taught, and topical seminars
are given at the introductory level.
This great teaching activity allows for specialization, but can it nourish
a common core? There is evidence at Wellesley that it does through the
simultaneous insistence on what is enduring. Where everywhere require-
ments are disappearing and majors are simply a collection of courses
given by the same department, Wellesley maintains a core curriculum for
most majors, a distribution requirement insuring a broad sample of the
liberal arts, and an insistence that the educated person is acquainted
with a foreign language.
The impact of graduate education has also made its way into the formal
118
A FOOTNOTE TO KEATS WHITING 119
evaluation of scholars. The assessment of scholarly growth of candidates
for tenure or full professor must be a blending of the external and in-
ternal judgments. In 1974, the College extended to all departments the
practice of using outside evaluators from other institutions to comment
on the quality of written work of their candidates for tenure. Not sur-
prisingly, the young candidates for promotion have been exceedingly
supportive of this practice. They bring with them the values of their
graduate institutions and may find an outsider with similar speciality to
be more sympathetic. What impresses me, however, is not that the outside
evaluation system was brought to Wellesley, but that it was brought here
by those, the senior faculty, whose judgment would no longer be the sole
evaluation. To me this demonstrates the confidence, strength of profes-
sional commitment, and tolerance of the Wellesley faculty.
This Wellesley capacity to absorb and to synthesize can also be found
in the increasing student participation in evaluation of faculty. Faculty
are, of course, expected to meet internal as well as external standards for
promotion. But "who" gets included in the internal evaluation is the
question. Excellent teaching is, and has been, the sine qua non for re-
appointment at Wellesley. It is too important to be assumed, as it is in
most research-oriented universities. Colleagues, through class visits and
an extensive review process, have made and continue to make assessments
of the quality of teaching. However, Wellesley has responded with greater
alacrity and acceptance than elsewhere to the student demand for a voice
in college governance and especially the opportunity to add their opinion
to the judgments of faculty teaching. Where other institutions are en-
meshed in deciding whether student letters can even be accepted as evi-
dence for faculty evaluation, Wellesley lends validity to its students' de-
mand by assuring a 100% sample of respondents to student evaluation
questionnaires. A student must return her form before an examination
can be taken. Alas, for our comparison with Hinduism, a consumer rat-
ing on Brahman priests or gurus was not readily available for young
Hindus, nor could priests receive terminal contracts. They were born into
the job and tenured for life.
In another area Wellesley has the capacity to take an external value
and transform it. Paradoxically, there is within the faculty here an in-
creasing recognition of women professors as women professionals. Al-
though Henry Durant appointed only women to the faculty (even if he
had to provide part of their training), I would argue that the steady
stream of appointments for able women and the nurturing environment
of Wellesley College allowed these women to think of themselves more as
professionals in a discipline than as women professionals. With the de-
cline of women on university faculties in the 1940s and 1950s, both rela-
tively and absolutely, the successful woman academic was even more con-
120 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
spicuous and the Wellesley achievement of more than 50% women on
the faculty the more remarkable. The present strength of the women's
movement in the country has begun to tap what has been enduring at
Wellesley. It is not surprising that on the faculty of Wellesley College
are seven women who chair the committee or task force on the status of
women for their respective professional associations. They provide ex-
ample and leadership, needling and encouragement for the concerns of
professional women in the American Economics Association, the Ameri-
can Physiological Association, American Society for Public Administra-
tion, American Philological Association, American Philosophical Associa-
tion, Association for Women in Mathematics, and the Association for
Asian Studies. At the same time, these women and others on the Wellesley
faculty are also thinking of themselves now as women professionals in
order that sometime they, and certainly their successors, can again think
of themselves as professionals in a discipline.
A note on pronouns is perhaps appropriate here. From my experience
at a large coeducational university which was essentially a male univer-
sity in terms of its faculty and administration, the issue of pronouns or
words giving gender was rather tense and often fought over. The insist-
ence in the women's movement on vocabulary to suit expectation rather
than reality seemed in the Berkeley context to be symbolic indeed. Why
insist on Chairperson when the Chairmen of all but one of 105 depart-
ments were, indeed, men? Changing the title will not change the likeli-
hood. Moreover, our insistence on address in official letters to professors
as "he or she" seemed a bit fatuous when "he" was correct 1155 out of
1200 cases. To get a more sexually neutral terminology against heavy fac-
ulty objection seemed to me a bit pyrrhic. At Wellesley the reality is dif-
ferent and I have had to adjust the image accordingly. One says "the
President, she . . .", the faculty is as likely to be "she" as "he," as is the
commencement speaker, a trustee, or the college budget officer. Perhaps
the wider academic society can someday be as tolerant and as absorptive of
new values as is Wellesley.
If Hinduism is marked by its absorptive capacity, it is also marked by
its ability to sustain contradictions. Likewise Wellesley. The more appar-
ent than real contradiction between teaching and research is a case in
point. The Economics Department, for instance, stresses the values of a
liberal arts college — good teaching and apprenticeships for fledgling in-
structors — while its faculty have a record for publication that any research
university would find enviable. Several departments run placement serv-
ices for majors similar to those for graduate students in a large university.
Indeed so proficient are some departments and individuals in sustaining
this contradiction that a continuous fear of this Dean is that a university
somewhere will try to steal our superb Art Department or kidnap any
number of professors.
A FOOTNOTE TO KEATS WHITING 121
Another apparent contradiction is that a women's college has a vigor-
ous and responsible role for men. Henry Durant had said that if men were
allowed on the early faculty there would never be a chance for women.
Superior men in greater numbers would drive the women out. The recent
Wellesley lesson, I believe, is that such is not the case. Men and women
together can teach, administer, and work in the same institution — a lesson
not yet learned in many coeducational colleges and universities.
In addition to the paradox that a women's college has an important
role for men, there are two further paradoxes in my estimation. We have a
number of part-time appointments in the faculty and administration with
full-time commitment to their profession. Whether this is achieved
through institutional loyalty, professional calling or, as some would say,
exploitation, I do not know. But its presence here is remarkable. Second,
there is the contradiction between teaching and administration which
seems to be resolved at Wellesley by turning teachers into administrators,
through an extraordinarily demanding system of faculty governance, and
giving administrators teaching responsibilities. Like Hinduism, Wellesley
College gets its vitality from the tensions that arise from its contradictions.
It is a temptation to expand the metaphor and suggest that, to many
young academics in a tight job market, the faculty is like a caste system,
hierarchically organized, with upward mobility difficult, if not impossible,
to achieve. Although these hardened lines may be representative of a
growing number of institutions, an important aspect of Wellesley College
in 1974 is that the age and structure of faculty ranks give the possibility
not only of making new appointments, but of promoting to tenure a num-
ber of young scholars presently on the faculty. In an era when many insti-
tutions have large percentages of their faculty on tenure, with few im-
mediate retirements, Wellesley's working agreement of approximately
50% of each department on tenure is serving the College well.
But perhaps the most hopeful prospect the comparison between Hindu-
ism and Wellesley brings to Wellesley at the time of the Centennial is
that Hinduism is at least 4,000 years old. The "footnote" by the then-
dean would have to be considerably longer!
LX-LIBFUS
The scallop shell appeared not only on Miss Hazard's
bookplate but on all buildings erected during her admin-
istration. She built Oakwoods as her residence, and espe-
cially in it the design was employed frequently — as Mrs.
llchman, her husband, and their two children, who live
there now, have discovered with great delight.
VIRGINIA ONDERDONK
The Curriculum
On September 8, 1875, Wellesley College opened its doors to 314 appli-
cants who, "ambitious to become learned women," presented themselves
for entrance examinations. College Hall had been built and equipped; a
staff of twenty-eight had been assembled, including seven professors and
fourteen teachers; and a general plan for the curriculum had been worked
out by a trustee committee consisting of Mr. Durant and the Reverend
Edward N. Kirk.
Only thirty of the original applicants were found to be fully qualified
for the collegiate curriculum — not surprising at a time when there were
few places where girls could "join in the high schools in which young men
are fitted for college" and "as yet no schools exclusively designed to fit
girls for college." (Some, perhaps a large proportion, of the first freshman
class had been prepared in their own homes.) The unsuccessful candidates
were not turned away. The "mortification and inconvenience caused by
wholly rejecting imperfectly prepared students who come from a distance
supposing themselves to be well fitted" was avoided by placing those who
passed only some of the examinations in a semi-collegiate class and the
least well prepared in the wholly separate Academic Department.*
The original collegiate students followed a largely prescribed General
Course. Before they graduated they had completed two years of Latin
(which presupposed four years of preparatory work); at least a year of
either French or German; four terms of mathematics; four years of his-
tory, of essay writing, and of literature; three years of elocution; and a
* Five years later the Academic Department, always thought of as a temporary ex-
pedient, was given up "for the reason that there is no room in the college for these
students."
122
THE CURRICULUM 123
year each of chemistry, physics, and philosophy. In addition there were
daily meetings for Scripture studies throughout the four years. At some
point every student was required to take lessons in drawing unless she
had already received sufficient training, and all were given instruction
in vocal music. There was still room for electives — one for freshmen
(Greek in place of French or German), two in the sophomore year, and
three in each of the last two years. There were no courses to elect in any
social science. A modern reader is struck by the fact that there were no
majors. The stated aim was rather to provide means for "the broadest
culture," built on preparatory work in mathematics and Latin and (if at
all possible) Greek.
The undergraduates at Wellesley were certainly kept busy, but perhaps
their days were not quite as full as the list of subjects suggests. Classes
were only 45 minutes in length. The college year was divided into three
terms,* and not all studies were in full 3-hour courses. Botany, for in-
stance, was a two-term elective in the sophomore year which could be
fitted in after the required first term of spherical trigonometry. Elocution,
essay writing, literature, and history all met just once or twice weekly. On
the other hand, mathematics and language courses for freshmen met four
times a week.
No doubt parents worried about the ability of their daughters to with-
stand the strains imposed by this difficult course of study "such as is pur-
sued in none but the best colleges." Perhaps for this reason the early
Calendars included a section on the health of students, which contained
the reassuring statement that a resident "lady physician" would instruct
their daughters in the laws of hygiene. It also stated emphatically that
"diligent study benefits the health of students who regulate their lives
by these laws."
To list the subjects studied and the length of time devoted to each is to
give only the externals of the curriculum. One would like to know more
about the specific content of courses and the methods of instruction. The
Calendar sections on instruction provide some clues; still more are sup-
plied by what we know of Mr. Durant's enthusiasms and concerns, for
almost certainly he was the main architect of the early curriculum.
He obviously loved the classics. Among the first professors appointed
were those in Greek and in Latin. One senses real regret that Greek could
not be required for admission like Latin, but the absence of proper "fit-
ting schools" made that impossible. However, the 1876 Calendar an-
* The change from term to semester courses began in 1883-84 when some depart-
ments divided their work into "i/ 2 years." Class periods were lengthened to 50 minutes
in 1917.
124 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
nounced that in September 1881 the General Course would be split into
a Classical Course and a Scientific Course and that Greek as well as Latin
would be prerequisite for the former. Furthermore, prospective students
were told that the Classical Course was "considered of much more value
than the Scientific Course, and all candidates are advised to prepare them-
selves accordingly."
Latin and Greek were among the few departments that offered enough
work to enable a student, if she chose, to continue her study of either or
both subjects throughout her college career. Evidence that the work
done was of high level is found in a report of 1883 to the Trustees from
a member of the Board of Visitors, who, according to the Trustee Min-
utes, declared "the attainment [in Latin and Greek] on the part of the
young ladies superior, he feared, to anything found in our colleges for
young men."
Modern languages also had a prominent place. Though French and
German were not required for admission, most students must have offered
at least one on entrance, for it was not until 1882 that beginning courses
in either appeared in the regular course listings. Since one or the other
was required for graduation, it is a relief to find embedded in the rather
lengthy section on instruction the sentence: "Other classes will be ar-
ranged for beginners." Clearly, elementary language instruction was felt
to be somewhat inappropriate for collegiate work. The regular first-year
class in German studied three works of Schiller and the ballads of
Goethe; in French, "selections from the most noted contemporary au-
thors." It was possible for a student to elect a full course in French or
German in each of her four years, and if she did she would be qualified,
the departments felt, to become a teacher of the language.
The only other department that offered full courses for each of the
four years was Mathematics. It was unquestionably one of the really
strong departments, and this in spite of the fact that preparation in
mathematics in the 1870s was usually very poor. The Calendar of 1876
complained that girls "are encouraged to 'get through' arithmetic without
understanding it and when they study algebra they soon learn to 'hate
mathematics.' " It went on to say that "girls who are properly taught
usually become very fine mathematical scholars and love the study. No
study is more valuable for developing mental powers." Mr. Durant could
have written this, for it accords with his views on the value of mathemat-
ics. At any rate he was certainly not among those trustees who were said
in an 1880 article in Barnard's Journal of Education to have "some mis-
givings with regard to the success of girls in the higher mathematics." The
article continued: "It had been asserted for so long that the mind of
woman was not adapted to the study of higher mathematics . . . that
many of the strongest advocates for the rights of women had their doubts
THE CURRICULUM 125
and fears." Happily, such doubts were soon dispelled, and we are told
in this same article that "in this study the college has taken a prominent
position. . . . Were it not for the great surprise that awaited us in the
scientific department, we should have said that these classes were more
valuable than any other in the college." The required work ended with
spherical trigonometry. After that the scientifically inclined and those
who "love the study" could elect analytic geometry, differential and in-
tegral calculus, analytical mechanics, and, in the senior year, mathemati-
cal astronomy. "Should anyone wish to pursue this branch further, she can
do so in a Post-Graduate course." This statement from the 1877 Calendar
is the first mention of graduate instruction offered by a department at
Wellesley. It coincides with the arrival of Helen Shafer as head of the
department, under whom several new undergraduate courses were also
offered. By 1883 President Freeman could say in her Report to the Trus-
tees: "I know of no American college where more intelligent or advanced
undergraduate work has been undertaken in mathematics than that ac-
complished by the seniors [in Miss Shafer's course]." One of them, Wini-
fred Egerton, applied for admission to graduate study at Columbia, and
in January 1884 "after much controversy she was finally admitted as
an exceptional case and one which was to set no precedent." She received
the Ph.D. degree in 1886, probably (according to a later Wellesley mathe-
matics professor) the first woman in the country to take it in mathematics.
One other of Miss Shafer's students must be mentioned here — Ellen Fitz
Pendleton of the Class of 1886, who upon her graduation joined the de-
partment as tutor and later became Wellesley's sixth president.
Some of the trustees may have had misgivings about "the higher mathe-
matics" for young women, but they had none about literature. Though
not generally emphasized in colleges at the time, at Wellesley it was con-
sidered "essential to woman's education," and until 1882 a 1-hour course
was required of all students in each of their four years. A staggering
amount of material was crammed into these courses. The freshman year
was occupied with an outline history of Grecian and Roman literature,
the early literature of Italy, Spain, France, and Germany, as well as the
general history of English literature from its earliest period. The range
was narrower in the sophomore year: English literature from the Eliza-
bethan age to the nineteenth century. Designated portions of the works
of different authors were selected for critical study, but the aim was
"to teach the classes how to study the authors for themselves and thus to
cultivate correct taste." In the junior year the time was given to the three
great poets Homer, Dante, and Shakespeare. Finally, the senior year was
devoted to early English literature, especially Chaucer. In addition to all
this there was evidently a good deal of systematic extracurricular reading,
for the department announced that it would prepare private reading
J 26 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
courses for all who desired them, and presumably also for any of me
many reading circles. As the Calendar of 1877 said, "the refining and
cultivating influences" of instruction in literature were felt from the out-
set.
The work offered in literature changed gradually in the first fifteen
or so years. By 1882 only two 1-hour courses were required — nineteenth-
century English and American authors for the freshmen and an outline
history of general literature for the sophomores — and classic English au-
thors became an elective for seniors. There was also the possibility of a
special course for the study of English translations of Homer and Dante
if enough students wished it. In 1879-80 "Literature" had become "Eng-
lish Literature" in the Calendar, and within ten years all the courses
offered were in English authors, except for one term in American authors.
The 1885 Statutes of the College recognized "English Language, Rhetoric,
and Essay Writing" as a separate department, though its three required
courses and its elective in Anglo-Saxon were grouped in the Calendar
with English Literature.
Comparatively little was said in the early Calendars about instruction
in history, though a 1-hour course was required in each of the four years.
Grecian, Roman, medieval, and modern history were taken up in proper
chronological sequence. In addition to lectures there were "constant
topical studies of the original authorities in the library." As in language
and literature courses, essays upon the subjects studied were required
throughout the course. Wellesley was a writing college from the begin-
ning. In 1883-84 history was required only of freshmen (one hour of Ro-
man and medieval history) and juniors (a two-term course in the history
of civilization), but there were a number of elective courses, among them
a semester of political economy and three of political science — the first
specifically social science studies at Wellesley. (Incidentally, Miss Free-
man shortly after she became President acquired also the title of Pro-
fessor of Political Science.)
Mr. Durant's impatience with routine learning and his desire that stu-
dents should observe and reason for themselves are nowhere better ex-
emplified than in his plans for science in his new college. Science at the
time did not have a large place in most undergraduate colleges, but from
the beginning Wellesley required a year of chemistry of all sophomores
and a year of physics of all juniors. Botany, zoology, astronomy, and geol-
ogy were planned as electives for upperclassmen. Moreover, laboratory
practice and work with instruments was to be an important part of each
course. This was radical. Indeed, Wellesley was the second college in the
country to provide a laboratory for undergraduate work in physics.
The enthusiasm that characterized the planning for science is evident
in an account of the beginnings of the Physics Department written by its
THE CURRICULUM 127
first professor, Sarah Frances Whiting. She told how Mr. Durant "caught
the idea of student laboratory work" from Professor Pickering of M.I.T.
and how with his advice a physics laboratory was added in the only
space available in College Hall — the loft above the chapel and the ad-
jacent attic spaces; how the ordering of apparatus was facilitated by the
visits Mr. Durant arranged for her to make to a half dozen or so colleges
where the professors helped her to draw up lists of items to be ordered
abroad. That similar care and energy marked the furnishing of the
other laboratories is attested by the editor of Barnard's Journal of
Education, who asserted in the 1880 article already cited that no college
he knew had a collection of physical apparatus superior to that of Welles-
ley College.
Mr. Durant clearly believed that no liberal arts education was complete
without mathematics, chemistry, and physics. Moreover, he and the other
trustees soon came to realize that science deserved a larger place than
the General Course ordinarily allowed. As early as 1877 a Scientific Course
was prepared, to give to women opportunities "substantially equivalent
to those given to young men in the best Scientific and Technical Schools."
Its aim, however, was not to prepare civil and mining engineers (men only
in those areas!), but rather "to meet the wants of teachers; to open the
way for future special study; and also to provide satisfactory preparation
for those who intend to become physicians." Note that "special study"
was to come in graduate school. Undergraduates studied both physical
and natural sciences, but no more than two years of work was offered in
any one science. In 1881, when it was decided to award the B.S. degree to
those who completed the Scientific Course, the strong preference for the
Classical Course stated in the 1876 Calendar had disappeared. Instead we
read: "The Scientific Course embodies difficult branches of collegiate
study and is fully equal to the Classical Course in mental discipline and
systematic culture." Mathematics was required for two years instead of
the one year in the Classical Course; French and German (until both
could be read with facility) were substituted for Greek and Latin; a year
of botany or biology was stipulated; but all the other required courses
were the same in both programs. Science was expected to be choseii to
fill the available elective slots.
It is perhaps significant that the newly added section on instruction
in the 1877 Calendar gave more space to chemistry and physics than to
any other subject. Language, literature, and history were familiar; science
was not, and the candidate needed to know the nature and extent of the
instruction. In the first year the chemistry student was taught the proper-
ties of elements and their more important compounds (some fifty are
mentioned) and the methods of qualitative analysis. In the second year
she moved on to quantitative analysis and topics in organic chemistry.
128 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Throughout both years emphasis was placed on work in the laboratory,
which had space and apparatus for ninety-six students. After one year
of chemistry the student could elect a term of mineralogy and a term of
lithology, both taught by the Professor of Chemistry. (Geology was men-
tioned in 1879 as a third-term course, but not until 1881 was there a lec-
turer in the subject.) Both stressed laboratory work with use of the blow-
pipe, the compound microscope, the polariscope, and chemical reagents.
Physics too stressed laboratory work. In the first year the doctrines of
motion, force, and energy as applied to visible masses were discussed;
the course then turned to "molecular physics," which included light, heat,
electricity, and magnetism. There were lectures, but the student was ex-
pected to deduce principles from the experiments and to give them mathe-
matical expression or graphical representation. She was also expected to
give short lectures on the subjects investigated. In the second year the
work was almost entirely in the laboratory. The aim, we are told, was
"to stimulate as soon as possible, original research on the part of the
student" in the topics studied in the first year. In addition some time was
spent on the new subject of photography, in which "positives on glass
will be taken suitable for projection by the lantern," and on spectrum
analysis, another area that was in its infancy when Wellesley opened.
Astronomy seems to have been regarded at first as appropriate only for
seniors. Members of the first senior class could, if they had the mathe-
matics prerequisites, elect a course in mathematical astronomy; but for
the next senior class there was physical astronomy, taught by Professor
Whiting at the request of Mr. Durant. She had a 4i/ 2 -inch telescope — for
observation only, since measurement was not possible with it — and the
apparatus of the Physics Department which could be used for spectrum
work. Her goal was to give students "the facts of astronomy that belong in
a liberal education," and this included teaching them the principles at
the bottom of astronomical measurements and giving them "a conception
of the dignity of the law of gravity."
Physics and astronomy were evidently not enough to satisfy the en-
thusiasm for science of either Mr. Durant or Miss Whiting. Mr. Durant,
she tells us, was possessed with the idea that microscopes should be more
widely used in schools. He persuaded her to form a "Microscopical Soci-
ety," a sort of scientific club for students and faculty members, which,
she says, was for years a distinct part of the Physics Department, and for
which Mr. Durant "would finance anything we wanted to make the meet-
ing interesting." The Calendar for 1877-78 could assert proudly that the
collection of compound microscopes (fifty that year and sixty-seven two
years later) "is already known as the most extensive and valuable in any
college in the country." They were not, of course, used only for the so-
ciety but played an important part also in the botany anld zoology courses.
THE CURRICULUM 129
Botany was the leading natural science in the first decade. While zool-
ogy was at first only one of the elective studies for seniors, botany was
open to sophomores as early as 1876-77 and thereafter could be studied
by juniors or seniors in a second full year course. In 1882 it became the
first science in which three years of work were offered. (Anyone tempted
to suppose that botany was prominent because it was somehow ladylike
should note that the course added in 1882 was in Economic Botany,
which hardly suggests a concession to genteel tastes.) Zoology made a
slower start. Mr. Durant had expected that both subjects would be taught
by Susan M. Hallowell, whom he had named Professor of Natural His-
tory, but she almost at once discovered that botany, which she preferred,
occupied all her time. The first Professor of Zoology, appointed in 1878,
stayed only three years, after which there was a two-year period when no
one taught the subject. The real founder of the department was Mary
Alice Willcox, and within a few years of her arrival in 1883 zoology had
drawn abreast of botany with three full years of study.
The topics taken up in both branches of natural science were the usual
ones — anatomy, morphology, histology, animal or vegetable physiology.
It was the method of instruction that was unusual. In an account of the
College published in the Christian Union in June 1880, Dr. Lyman Ab-
bott makes this clear: "Wellesley College ... is better equipped in
many respects to develop individual activity in its undergraduates than
any male college in the land. . . . For example, the approved method of
studying biology and botany is in most colleges to sit in a lecture room
and take notes of the instructions of a lecturer; he tells his pupils what
can be seen in a microscope and possibly gives them an occasional glimpse
of the microscopic world through a single instrument. In the higher edu-
cation of women, as represented by Wellesley College, every student of
biology and botany has her own microscope and dissecting tools and
table. ... So long as Wellesley College equips the girls for independent
study in this respect better than Harvard equips the boys, so long may we
expect to hear scepticism and see much shaking of the head at the radical-
ism of the former institution. There is a great deal of human nature in
men and they do not like to see the girls better educated than themselves."
Some indication of the place of science in the first decade or so can be
found by examining the number of teachers in various areas. In 1876-77
Latin and mathematics led all the other departments. In 1882-83 Greek,
mathematics, and chemistry led, with four in each. Latin and botany fol-
lowed with three each. Another indicator may be found in the number
of degrees conferred. From 1883 to 1895, when the B.S. degree was
awarded to those who completed the Scientific Course, about 37 percent
of Wellesley graduates won that degree. It is possible that a few of these
chose the course in order to avoid Latin and Greek, but it is unlikely
130 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
that many would have chosen to double the mathematics and science
requirements of the Classical Course unless they found the work good
and the course satisfying.
The 1874 announcement of the opening of the College indicated that
philosophy would be offered and that it would include logic, psychology,
ethics, and the history of philosophy. Indeed, within a few years all were
required. The required work for seniors — one term of psychology, one of
the general history of philosophy, and one of moral philosophy — ap-
peared in 1878-79, as soon as the new college had seniors. From 1881 to
1891 a term of logic was required of all juniors, and from 1882 to 1890 a
two-term course in Christian ethics counted as part of the requirement
in Scripture studies for freshmen. The first elective course was announced
in the 1884 Calendar — a senior course entitled "Speculative Philosophy,
Theism, and the History of Religions." It was typical of the time that
philosophy should have embraced not only psychology but also much
that would later be thought more appropriate for a department of reli-
gion.
For ninety-three years study of the Bible was considered an essential
part of the education of all Wellesley students. The religious interests of
the Founders, spoken of in an earlier chapter, explain in part the re-
quirement in the early years, but it should be noted that such a require-
ment was not unusual at the time. Its continuance until 1968 is surely
to be explained by the excellence of the work done. Generations of stu-
dents have said that they found it good, evidently believing with the de-
partment that the Bible offers "insights which should not be ignored"
and that "as a historical record it is essential to the understanding of
Western civilization."
There was at first no department, nor were the subjects to be studied
listed in the Calendar. The 1874 Circular and subsequent Calendars
merely said, "The systematic study of the Scriptures will be continued
throughout the course." This is all until 1882. As far as I can determine,
no hours of credit were given for the work, nor were there any faculty
members appointed specifically for this instruction. Since the early Stat-
utes of the College stipulated that every member of the faculty must be
a member of an evangelical church, it is not hard to understand why, in
those days before the "Higher Criticism" was widely known or accepted,
any teacher in the College could be asked to take a section of Scripture
studies.
Material is scanty about the work done before 1882. There is a history
of the department written by its long-time head, Eliza Hall Kendrick '85.
In it she says that her recollections are few and her memory is faulty
about her undergraduate study of the Bible. She does, however, recall
the first Sunday in her freshman year when at perhaps 9:30 in the morn-
THE CURRICULUM 131
ing she betook herself "along with 20 or 30 of her classmates to one of
the regular weekday classrooms in College Hall for her first Bible les-
son." She recalls further that "the leader was Miss Hallowell of the de-
partment of Botany and her talk was on the opening chapter of Genesis,
an appropriate topic, which seemed to imply that we were now embarked
on a course of study which would bring us, if we were fortunate enough
to survive, to the last chapter of Revelation by the end of the senior
year. There were then given out references to books in the library dealing
with the relations between Genesis and geology as our work for the fol-
lowing week and the liberal and harmonizing hypothesis was offered that
a 'day' in this chapter meant not literally a day but an indefinitely long
geologic era."
Miss Kendrick's inference that the Sabbath course would move from
Genesis to Revelation in the four years was correct. In the aforementioned
1880 article in the Christian Union Dr. Lyman Abbott said that the Sab-
bath course, laid out by the Reverend Dr. Howard Crosby, the vice-
president of the Board of Trustees, was systematic and thorough, "extend-
ing over a period of four years and covering the whole of the Old and
New Testaments." He added that "the studies in this course are made the
basis of a regular examination, with all other studies, at the end of the
year."
Though Miss Kendrick did not mention it, Dr. Abbott attested that
there was also a weekday course, "less systematic and organized for a
different purpose." The daily meetings were short — fifteen minutes — and
each teacher arranged for her section "a course of Bible study for direct
practical and spiritual results." One gathers that these results were not
measured by examination.
In 1882-83 there was a decided change. Bible studies became regular
credit courses, required for two hours in each undergraduate year.
Though the content varied slightly over the next eight years, the main
outline of studies was constant. Freshmen usually devoted one hour a
week to the Parables and another to a Christian ethics course given by
the Department of Philosophy. Sophomores spent the year on "The His-
tory of the Jewish Church," i.e. on the historical books of the Old Testa-
ment. The work for juniors concentrated on the life of Christ, prefaced
by a study of the Prophets. The senior course, entitled "The History of
the Church in the First Century," took up Acts and the Epistles, and
occasionally added "the poetical books of the Bible," especially Job.
President Freeman reported in 1883 that in each year provision was made
for at least eight lectures by specialists in the canon of the Old and New
Testaments. Still, the regular classes were all taught by non-specialists.
The first printed schedule, attached to the 1886 Calendar, listed no names
under the heading "Bible"; it merely said, "20 classes, 20 instructors,
132 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Tuesday and Friday 2:20 PM." This means that close to half of the
faculty members in that year were teaching Bible.
The first hints of the beginning of a true department of Biblical stud-
ies are found in the 1886-87 Calendar, in which the courses listed under
"The Classics" included Greek New Testament (two 2-hour courses
which could be elected by juniors and seniors to meet their Bible re-
quirements) and Hebrew (one 2-hour elective for seniors). Greek New
Testament was the province of Miss Chapin, Professor of Greek, who
continued to teach it until her retirement in 1920. The single course in
Hebrew, though elected by very few students, nonetheless represented an
important step in the recognition at Wellesley of the scholarly field of
Biblical studies. Its first instructor, Sara A. Emerson, a member of the
Latin Department who had been one of those non-specialists teaching
required Scripture, became aware of the rapid development of Biblical
scholarship, studied Hebrew, read the works of Higher Criticism as they
kept appearing, took what courses she could at Boston University, and
became Wellesley's first specifically trained Old Testament teacher.
By 1892 Hebrew was listed separately in the Calendar and included
not only the year course in the language but also the English Old Testa-
ment courses then required of freshmen and sophomores. This meant
that Old Testament study, all under the direction of Miss Emerson, had
achieved a place as a separate scholarly field. The New Testament
courses for juniors and seniors had to wait a few more years and mean-
while continued to be taught by members of other departments — Philos-
ophy, History, English, Physics.
Long before most other colleges, Wellesley recognized music and art as
appropriate liberal arts subjects. It was the first college in the country to
offer a major in art history, and in 1909 President Hazard could write:
"The Wellesley work in music is in a way pioneer work, since few colleges
undertake to do what we do," i.e. to treat it as a subject of serious study
rather than simply an accomplishment. But it took some twenty years of
experimentation before regular departmental status was achieved in ei-
ther art or music. Not that they were neglected before 1895. Far from it,
though at the very beginning, when instruction in vocal music was given
to all students and drawing was a required freshman course, they seem
to have been regarded as practical accomplishments. The real programs
in music and art started in 1878 and 1879, when semi-autonomous schools
were set up, perhaps as part of Mr. Durant's "university idea," spoken of
in an earlier chapter.
Music led the way. The model seems to have been the conservatory,
for the emphasis was on the techniques and skills of performance. Special
students who desired to pursue music exclusively were accepted and after
four or five years could earn the diploma of the School. (The B.Mus. de-
THE CURRICULUM 133
gree was mentioned as a possibility for those "especially talented," but
was only once awarded — in 1883.) But the distinctive feature of the
Wellesley plan was the combination of conservatory work with regular
collegiate study in a Five Years' Course. Each student in the course se-
lected piano playing, organ playing, or solo singing as her specialty
(later any orchestral instrument could be chosen), and in addition all
studied harmony, counterpoint, composition, and the history and aesthet-
ics of music, none of which earned credit towards the B.A. degree. Those
who completed the course received a diploma in music and at the same
time the B.A. or B.S. degree.
In September 1879 a course of instruction in art was commenced, "upon
the same plan which has proved so satisfactory in the study of Music,"
with work in drawing, painting, and modeling. As in music, the plan was
to admit five-year B.A. and B.S. candidates as well as special students who
might if they persisted earn a diploma.
The new course in music was, as the nexj four or five Calendars de-
clared, "deservedly popular and successful," so much so that enlargement
of the department became necessary and a new building for it was com-
pleted in 1880. The numbers are impressive: 130 students in 1881-82 out
of a total college enrollment of 450; 143 in 1884-85 out of 506. The School
of Art, as it was called after 1883, attracted far fewer students. While
Music in the eighties had a faculty of ten to thirteen, Art had only three
to five, and this in spite of the fact that a fair amount of faculty time must
have been needed for the required freshman drawing course and for
"free instruction in flower painting and watercolors given to all the
classes in Botany." In 1884-85 those two groups accounted for 170 of a
total of 213 elections in the School of Art. By 1892-93, with freshman
drawing no longer required, only forty-three students were doing any
work in the School of Art, of whom twenty-five were botanists in water-
color painting, and just three were enrolled in the Five Years' Course. In
that same year the School of Music, in addition to thirty-nine non-degree
students, counted an enrollment of forty-nine students in the Five Years'
Course and fifteen regular degree candidates who were "taking music
as an extra."
That last group marked an important change — the recognition of
music as an elective counting for the B.A. degree. When the first Pro-
fessor of Music left Wellesley in 1884 to become the head of a conserva-
tory, his place was taken by Junius W. Hill, who in 1886 offered a year
course for juniors in musical history, theory, and composition. In the
same year (but quite independently of the School of Art) the history of
art became a regular elective for juniors when Elizabeth H. Denio, who
had been at the College from the beginning, returned from two years'
leave of absence in Europe as Professor of the History of Art as well as
134 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Professor of German. Two semester courses were offered, both supple-
mented by work in the laboratory. By 1889, with the new Farnsworth Art
Museum ready for occupancy, Miss Denio was giving five semester
courses in art open to seniors as well as to juniors.
The President's Reports in the following years spoke of the steady
gains in elections in the history of art, and also of Mr. Hill's urgent re-
quest that a larger place be made for "music as a science" — that is, that
more electives in harmony and the history of music be made available to
regular collegiate students. In 1896 the Trustees decided that a complete
reorganization was needed. They voted that there should no longer be
separate schools, but that music and fine arts should be organized like
other departments, offering only courses that would count towards the
degree. However, the Five Years' Courses were not entirely abandoned. In
Art, a footnote in catalogues for the next twenty-five years mentioned the
possibility of "giving yearly the time of one full course to studio art" and
taking the B.A. degree in five years. In Music, the Five Years' Course,
leading to the B.A. and the certificate, as it was later called, continued
until 1935, but since the opportunity for "practical music" had been
extended to any student who elected a course in theory, its numbers
declined rapidly.
Even at the beginning, as we have seen, there were some elective stud-
ies at Wellesley. To recent alumnae they will probably seem few in number
and on the whole narrowly restricted to further work in the required
areas of mathematics, languages, and science. At the time, however, the
policy of elective studies was a novelty. George Herbert Palmer, writing
of Miss Freeman's administration, said that this policy "stirred strong
opposition" (he is, I believe, referring mainly to critics outside the Col-
lege) on the grounds that it threw more work on the faculty and involved
"grave financial difficulties in execution." He added that its stimulating
methods were easily mistaken for absence of restraint. Undoubtedly it
was expensive and the faculty at Wellesley did have heavy teaching loads
(fifteen hours a week was usual), but Mr. Durant clearly felt that special
needs and interests had a place. He was ahead of the times here too, and
his policy of "wide variations by means of elective studies" was continued
after his death. Most of these electives were advanced courses in estab-
lished departments, but by no means all. Some, like Italian which first
appeared in 1882, Spanish in 1883, Political Economy in 1883, and Phys-
ical Geography in 1887, were the forerunners of new departments. Others,
like Taxidermy in 1881, Sanskrit in 1886, Bibliography (taught by the
librarian) and Oriental Civilization in 1887, and Domestic Science in
1890 flourished for a few years and then disappeared.
Not only were there electives within the General Course, there were
also alternative courses. (A "course" here means a whole program of stud-
THE CURRICULUM 1 35
ies.) Mr. Durant had planned them from the beginning. The first pub-
lished Calendar (1876-77) described the "special parallel courses" which
the 1874 Circular had said "will be arranged." They were Honors Courses
in Classics, in Mathematics, in Modern Languages, and in Science. In
1877-78 the Five Years' Music Course was announced, and the following
year the Five Years' Art Course. "Few colleges in the country had at that
time a programme so liberal," wrote George Herbert Palmer, who saw
it as further evidence of Mr. Durant's dread of routine and his approval
of whatever might arouse individual activity.
Three of the Honors Courses were described in considerable detail in
the Calendars of the next five years. They were arranged to allow for what
would later be called a major — or a double major, for the Classics candi-
date studied both Greek and Latin for four years, the Modern Language
candidate French and German. In Science, we are told, the course "will
depend so much on the tastes and special pursuits of students that details
need not be given." By 1878-79 this was no longer an Honors Course, but
simply "the Scientific Course," in which four or five sciences were studied,
but no single one for four years.
The 1877-78 Calendar said that Honors in Classics had "already been
adopted by many students," but as far as I can determine, none of them
finished the course. The only students who graduated with honors were
three members of the Class of 1880, in Mathematics. A history of the de-
partment written by Professor Helen A. Merrill '86 added the valuable
detail that the honors examinations for these three students were given
on three successive days in June and lasted for 10i/ 2 hours. If the Honors
Course was the early equivalent of the major, these examinations can, it
seems, be taken to be the forerunner of the General Examination, albeit
much more extended.
The 1881-82 Calendar said merely that courses for honors might be
elected by students of superior scholarship. The next year, honors work
dropped out entirely, not to reappear until 1922.
Dr. Lyman Abbott, writing in 1880, before the Honors Courses were
given up, said that "the development of the College curriculum into seven
co-equal branches was the first step towards the University idea in Welles-
ley." The second step, he declared, was the addition of a teachers' "an-
nex." He was referring to the opening of Stone Hall as a dormitory for
teacher specials, and doubtless also to a plan mentioned in the 1879 Cal-
endar. "When Stone Hall is completed," we read, "it will probably be
established as a Normal College with special courses and grant special
degrees." This did not happen, but for some years there was a teachers'
collegiate course.
Mr. Durant was vitally interested in the education of teachers. The
1877 Calendar pointed out that "by a gradual and almost unnoticed
136 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
revolution, the education of the youth of our country has, to a great ex-
tent, passed into the hands of female teachers." Mr. Durant expected that
many of the graduates of his new college would be teachers, and he
wanted them to be "learned and useful." (It was not, however, until Miss
Freeman was President, and at her request, that Professor Wenckebach
of the German Department offered the first course in the science and
art of teaching, an elective for seniors.) He also wanted to give older
women who were already teachers the opportunity "to perfect themselves
in particular studies." They were received at least as early as 1876 as spe-
cial students. They were not required to pass entrance examinations, nor
did they become degree candidates; they were simply free "to pursue
such studies as they desire in any of the regular classes." They could, if
they wished, spend all their time on one subject, "reciting daily in three
different classes." They could also attend classes in the Academic Depart-
ment to observe the methods of instruction. According to the 1877 Calen-
dar, this program afforded "privileges bestowed by no other institution
during so short a period."
In 1877 a limited number of mature women who were not teachers
were also admitted as special students. They, too, were excused from the
usual requirements. The only stipulation was that they be capable of
diligent study in their selected courses.
The proportion of special to regular students was large in the first ten
years. In 1876-77 there were 34 specials, 118 collegiate students, and 153
students in the Academic Department. Two years later when teacher
specials were listed separately, they numbered 31 and other specials 33
out of a total enrollment of 361. In 1881-82 the numbers were: 80 teacher
specials, 92 other specials, 275 collegiate students (the Academic Depart-
ment had closed); in 1884-85, 160 specials and 346 regular students. There-
after the number of specials gradually declined as the number of degree
candidates steadily increased. These numbers suggest that the admission
of special students not only met the needs of teachers and other mature
women to pursue particular studies, often on a part-time basis, but also
helped the College to offer a wide variety of courses to classes of reason-
able size at a time when the number of regular collegiate students was
small.
One might compare special students with the continuing education
students of the last ten or so years, though at Wellesley many of those in
continuing education are degree candidates, and none of the specials was.
In some ways the comparable program in recent times is that for auditors,
especially those who arrange to participate in the classes they attend.
Mr. Durant also made provision for graduate students. As early as 1876
the Calendar announced that "graduates of this and other colleges who
desire to pursue their studies will be received." Two members of Welles-
ley's first graduating class earned the first Wellesley Master of Arts de-
THE CURRICULUM 137
grees, both in Greek in 1882. From 1879, when graduate students were
first mentioned in the enrollment figures, to 1898 there were a total of
583, but only 57 earned the M.A. in those years. The proportion of suc-
cessful candidates seems very small until we realize that before 1898
graduate students included a recognized group who had no intention
of working for a higher degree. They were simply "special" students who
happened to have a B.A. degree. Another and more interesting group,
designated by the term "non-resident," consisted of graduate students
who were permitted to do all their M.A. work independently (i.e. by
correspondence under the guidance of a faculty committee) or "under
instruction elsewhere." Graduate work by correspondence was discon-
tinued in 1893, but the possibility of earning a Wellesley M.A. by study-
ing elsewhere remained for decades. The reason for this rather unusual
arrangement is clearly indicated by a statement in the 1901-02 Calendar:
"Graduate students who have done the entire work for the M.A. degree in
non-residence are accepted as candidates for the degree only when this
work has been done at some institution which does not grant the M.A.
degree to women."
Even in the early nineties, when fifty or sixty graduate students were
counted in the enrollment figures, there was almost nothing that could
be called a graduate program. Wellesley was and has remained primarily
an undergraduate college. Over the years the College continued to admit
a small number of graduate students, most of them for special work like
that offered in Hygiene and Physical Education or in the Chemistry In-
stitute (both described later in this chapter) or in other departments that
could offer them assistantships along with part-time study. Today the
M.A. degree is offered only in Art and in Biological Sciences.
Revision and Growth: 1893-1932
Four times in the history of Wellesley major auricular reviews have been
undertaken. The first one began fifteen years after the opening of the
college. As we have seen, the old curriculum had not been entirely static.
Year by year, changes had been made — new courses added, some old
ones dropped. But the basic structure worked out largely by Mr. Durant
had remained. By 1890 the President and the faculty felt that it was time
to rethink the entire program of studies. They wanted especially to
lighten the work of the freshman year and to expand the freedom of
choice for all students. In 1893 President Shafer reported that a new
curriculum, representing three years of faculty discussion, had been ap-
proved by the Trustees.
When the discussions began, the freshman program consisted of three
full courses (meeting three or four times a week) and five required 1-hour
138 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
courses: drawing, elocution, literature, Christian ethics, and Bible. All
the latter except Bible now became elective, but a new required 1-hour
course in English composition was added. Of the former, only the 4-hour
mathematics course remained unchanged. Instead of Latin and Greek
(for the Classical Course) or French and German (for the Scientific
Course), the new requirement was one full course in a foreign language
to be taken at any time in the four years. The required non-credit lec-
tures in hygiene were transformed into a new 1-hour course for sopho-
mores. (Non-credit physical training was required of freshmen three
times a week, and by 1905 of sophomores also.) Chemistry, botany, and
zoology (and physics after 1898) were opened to freshmen. Instead of the
required sophomore chemistry and junior physics, two courses from any
of the science departments were to be chosen (but not both from the
same department).
Upperclassmen too had fewer required studies. They were still directed
to study philosophy, now in the junior year, Bible and English composi-
tion in both the sophomore and junior years. Literature and history
ceased to be required at any time. In the whole undergraduate course of
59 hours, required work was reduced from 40 hours to 26.
The separate Scientific and Classical Courses were discontinued, and
after 1895 the B.S. degree was no longer awarded.
For the first time there were stipulations about an area of concentra-
tion. Earlier Calendars had spoken merely of the "opportunity for spe-
cialization" through elective work. Now, six full courses were to be taken
as follows: "either (a) three in each of two subjects; or (b) three or four
courses in one subject with three or two in any one of two tributary sub-
jects."
President Shafer said of the new curriculum that it "offers the widest
election consistent (1) with the completion of certain subjects which we
deem essential to all culture, and (2) with the continuous study of one
or two subjects for the sake of the mental discipline and breadth of view
which belong to advanced attainment."
President Shafer and her co-workers on the faculty succeeded in fram-
ing a curriculum that stood in all essentials for the next forty years. There
were shifts and adjustments, but they were relatively minor. Hygiene
was moved back into the freshman year; the required work in English
composition came to be four hours divided between the first two years,
and in Bible studies four hours divided between the second and third
years. In 1915, following a faculty decision to do away with 4-hour re-
quirements, freshman mathematics became a regular 3-hour course, and
English composition was reduced to a single 3-hour course for freshmen.
Since the Trustees expressed unwillingness to authorize any further cut in
Bible study, the faculty voted to make it conform to the standard 3-hour
THE CURRICULUM 1 39
pattern by requiring a year for sophomores and a semester for juniors.
In 1922 further changes were announced. A required 1-hour course in
Reading and Speaking was added for sophomores. The science require-
ment now specified that students should elect one physical and one bio-
logical science, but those who offered two entrance units in science were
excused from one science course in college. The requirements in mathe-
matics and foreign language could now be met by satisfactory pre-college
work — four entrance units in mathematics in the one case and a demon-
strated knowledge of three foreign languages in the other.
Honors work reappeared in 1922. Like the earlier Honors Courses, it
was designed for students of exceptional ability who wished to use their
electives for concentrated study in what was now named a Field of Dis-
tinction. Both the old and the new honors plans culminated in a com-
prehensive examination taken at the end of the senior year. They differed,
however, in that the new plan included three year-hours of research,
independent of scheduled courses but under faculty guidance. Honors
were first awarded to seven members of the Class of 1923. Until the late
forties the number continued to be small, averaging about eight each
year. The Dean's reports more than once expressed disappointment that
the number was not larger. "The rewards of greater flexibility in a chosen
course have not been sufficient to draw many from the conventional
course. More special inducement must be sought."
Another way to allow greater flexibility was found in the 350 course,
"Research or Individual Study." The Department of Zoology was the
pioneer with a course called "Undergraduate Research" introduced in
1920-21. Gradually in the late twenties and in the thirties others followed
until every department which offered a major had its "350."
The only other significant change in the "New Curriculum" of 1893
came in 1928, when the General Examination in the major was first given
to seniors. In 1930 the Dean reported that although there was "a cry of
dismay at first, the purpose is now more generally understood and ap-
preciated." In her opinion, "the General Examination has distinctly
strengthened the course."
Though a student of the Class of 1894 would have found, thirty-six
years later, a great increase in the number of courses and departments
and an even greater change in course content, still I think she would have
recognized the requirements for the B.A. degree for the Class of 1930
and felt quite at home with them. How she would have reacted to re-
ceiving letter grades in all her courses is harder to guess. For her, as for
all previous students, there had been a sort of general pass /fail system.
There were grades (numerical at first, then letter grades), but they were
not announced to students. Only if a student failed a course was she noti-
fied. In 1896, when a distinction was made between "passed" and "passed
14° WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
with credit" and students were required to pass at least half of their work
with credit, it became necessary to report to each student for each course
which grade she had received. President Pendleton, in a retrospective
report, noted that "it was soon felt that students were too often content
if they obtained straight 'credit.' . . . Accordingly in 1905 it was decided
that any student who asked for them might obtain at the end of the year
her grades for both semesters." In 1912 all students were given their
grades, A, B, C, etc., at the close of each semester. (The further refine-
ment of added pluses and minuses did not come until 1946.) It is interest-
ing to see how in the late sixties the direction of change was reversed
with the reintroduction of a limited pass/fail system.
Some of the developments within the stable framework of the 1893
curriculum will be commented on here as examples of the kind of cur-
ricular growth that was taking place.
English Literature and Psychology (the latter still considered as part
of Philosophy) are especially noteworthy because they were the depart-
ments chosen to prepare the special exhibitions at the Paris Exposition of
1900 which won for Wellesley a gold medal. The English Literature ex-
hibit consisted of the volumes published by its professors and associate
professors ("a very good showing," as Miss Hazard's Report said), to-
gether with a descriptive outline, prepared by Katharine Lee Bates, of
the work of the department, "of the various courses in Old English, and
Chaucer, and through the poets to modern times." In 1900 the depart-
ment offered twelve full year courses, including one in Old English lit-
erature for freshmen, and a 1-hour course in American literature. None
of its work was required, but from a student body of 688 there were 418
elections. Thirty years later, just before the next general curricular re-
vision, the department led all others in the number of courses (twenty-
three full year courses and seven part courses), the number of elections,
and the number of majors.
The Psychology exhibit at the Paris Exposition consisted of four vol-
umes of printed theses, articles by members of the department, photo-
graphs of the laboratory and its apparatus, and cards showing graphically
the results of experiments. It was, according to President Hazard, "a
very unusual and quite wonderful exhibit — one of the fullest records
which has ever been made of psychological experiments with women."
The credit belongs chiefly to Mary Whiton Calkins, who in 1891 had
established that psychology laboratory at Wellesley, one of the first in
America. Her appointment as instructor of psychology, also in 1891, illus-
trates much about the College before the turn of the century. Psychology
was beginning to be an experimental, scientific subject; Wellesley wanted
to include it and wanted it taught by a woman. Since there were no
women psychologists, Professor Mary S. Case, who had herself migrated
THE CURRICULUM 141
from the Latin Department to Philosophy, and who remembered a con-
versation in which a young instructor in Greek had expressed a deep in-
terest in philosophy, recommended Miss Calkins' appointment. The recom-
mendation was accepted, with the proviso that Miss Calkins take a year's
leave to study philosophy and psychology. Here is another example of the
policy initiated by Mr. Durant of searching out the right person first and
then, if necessary, arranging for further preparation for the position.
Fifty-four students elected Miss Calkins' first course in physiological
psychology, and the new laboratory, equipped for experimentation in
sensation, reaction times, attention, association, and memory, was hard
put to it to accommodate them. The first series of papers on studies done
in the laboratory appeared in 1894. In 1895 an advanced course was added,
in which students undertook individual investigations of special topics.
Ten such investigations were carried on in 1896, three of them published
in psychological journals. After 1898, when Eleanor A. McC. Gamble
joined the department, the experimental work gradually came under her
direction, and Miss Calkins, though she continued to publish articles in
psychology and to teach a course in types of psychological theory, taught
mainly in the philosophy half of the department. Even as instructor in
psychology she had taught philosophy courses (the first full course in Greek
philosophy, as well as courses in British and German thinkers), and her
title was soon changed to Associate Professor and then Professor of Philos-
ophy and Psychology. When she retired in 1929, having been head since
1898, Miss Pendleton spoke of her department as one of the strongest in
the College.
The general reduction of prescribed work brought about by the 1893
curriculum involved cutting required Bible studies from eight hours to
four. The consequent drop in the number of students to be taught meant
that several of the courses which had been given by members of other
departments were withdrawn, and this in turn undoubtedly hastened the
emergence of an academic department with a recognized field to be taught
by specialists. The process had been begun by Miss Emerson, but since
her appointment was not renewed after 1895, the task of organizing the
new department was given to the newly appointed Mary E. Woolley. Dur-
ing her five years at Wellesley Miss Woolley taught most of the Old Testa-
ment work and in addition a couple of courses in church history. The
instructors she brought in for the New Testament work included Ade-
laide I. Locke, whose course in the life of Christ was especially important,
for it was destined to become the required course for juniors. Miss Locke
also introduced a full year course in the history of religions which, ac-
cording to Miss Kendrick, was the first of its kind to be offered in an
undergraduate college.
Miss Hazard's Reports in the first years of her presidency commented
142 VVELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
with satisfaction on the new department of Biblical History, Literature
and Interpretation. Noting that in 1900 not only had Miss Woolley left to
become president of Mount Holyoke but two instructors had accepted
important administrative positions in other colleges, she remarked that
"this department seems to have been a training place for future leaders."
In 1901 she called attention to the fact that a major was now possible,
and in 1902 she spoke of the richness and variety of the department's
offering and added that "the growing opportunity for such study excels
that of any other college from which statistics have been obtained."
By 1900 the basic curriculum of the department had been established.
Some courses were later added but the pattern remained essentially un-
changed for the next thirty years. All sophomores studied the Old Testa-
ment for a year (2 hours until 1915 and 3 hours thereafter). Until 1915
the requirement for juniors was a 2-hour year course in the New Testa-
ment; after that date all juniors studied the Synoptic Gospels for a
semester, and those who wished further work (as many did) could elect
a second semester course which dealt with other books of the New
Testament. One or two years of Hebrew continued to be offered, as did
the Greek New Testament courses. For three years (1920-23) Olive
Dutcher offered a course in the "Development of Thought in Later Jew-
ish Literature," covering largely Biblical material of the period 300 B.C.-
A.D. 100. The only regularly offered electives in non-Biblical material
were the year course in the history of religions and Miss Kendrick's "In-
terpretations of Christianity" (introduced in 1920). Clearly, the depart-
ment felt that its main task was to teach the Bible, and to make this
teaching academically rigorous and intellectually satisfying.
In Music the transition to departmental status, though voted by the
Trustees in 1896, was not fully made until Hamilton C. Macdougall came
in 1900 to head the department. (Mr. Hill had resigned in 1897, and for
three years the offerings in music were minimal.) Under him courses in
the history of music expanded greatly, as did those in theory and com-
position. The department continued to recommend instruction in per-
forming music as an important complement to its credit courses. In addi-
tion, for about thirty years it offered for degree credit a number of "ap-
plied" courses — "applied harmony," "applied counterpoint," etc. — which
sought, "following what might be termed the laboratory method," to
"realize synthetically at pianoforte" the principles taught in the theory
courses. Mr. Macdougall also introduced in 1900 Wellesley's first non-
technical course in the appreciation of music. As choirmaster he gave
informal instruction to a large group of students as well as pleasure to
the College as a whole not only through the performances of the choir
but also through the many recitals and concerts he arranged.
For Art, too, the transition to departmental status was complicated
THE CURRICULUM 143
by the resignation of its former professor. Only two courses were given
in 1896-97, by Alice Walton, who soon became a member of the Latin
Department, though her art interests continued to find expression in the
classical archeology courses that were listed under Classics for many years.
Alice Van Vechten Brown was called in 1897 from the Norwich Art
School to head the newly organized department. The combination of
"study and practice" that she worked out for the art history courses,
often referred to as "the Wellesley method," has continued to this day.
"Laboratory work" was required in most art history courses, not for the
sake of producing works of art but to sharpen observation and to increase
awareness of the constraints and possibilities of the medium used. (In
the last few years a separate course, required of majors, in "General
Techniques" has replaced laboratory work in nearly all art history
courses.) Within two years of Miss Brown's arrival, new instructors and
new courses were added and student elections had increased so much
that it was necessary to remove from the art building all classes in other
subjects. President Hazard in 1900 reported that "the hours counting for
the degree have been finally adjusted to include some actual practice in
drawing." She was referring not to the laboratory work incorporated
into art history courses, but to a separate studio course, introduced in
1898, which could count for the degree after a year course in art history
had been completed. Studio work continued and gradually expanded,
though it was always limited to those who had studied some art history.
With changing faculty and student interests, course offerings in art
history varied over the years, though work in Italian painting seems al-
ways to have been prominent. Naturally enough, courses, particularly
advanced ones, have appeared from time to time to take advantage of
special faculty competence. Harriet B. Hawes, the excavator of Gournia
in Crete, and later W. Alexander Campbell, the director of the Antioch
excavations, taught courses in ancient art. (Mr. Campbell also introduced
a course in Chinese and Japanese art — work that was to continue under
others.) Myrtilla Avery was a medievalist, but she is probably best re-
membered by the hundreds of alumnae who as seniors took her survey
history. Alfred Barr, at Wellesley for a few years before going to the
Museum of Modern Art in New York, introduced in 1929 a course called
"Tradition and Revolt in Modern Painting," the first course in modern
art taught in any college in the country. When the distinguished Byzan-
tinist Sirarpie Der Nersessian came in 1930, courses in her specialty were
introduced.
In 1930, when Miss Brown retired, President Pendleton wrote, "It is
not too much to say that the present department is her creation." She
had chosen most of its faculty; she had with them developed a rich offer-
ing in art history (54 semester hours); she had introduced studio courses;
144 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
and as museum director she had built a collection of choice works of art.
She would have agreed wholeheartedly with the statement of a later
chairman, Agnes Abbot: "One of the department's basic aims through
the years has been to train not only students who go on as art historians
and artists, proud as we are of those who have done so, but also to
broaden the discrimination and taste of a far larger number, who simply
as educated members of a community may so enrich its cultural life."
The auricular changes of 1893 made a significant difference in the
pattern of language study. Latin was still required for admission (four
units until 1925-26), but with the demise of the Classical Course neither
Latin nor Greek was required in college; the only stipulation was that
one full course in a foreign language should be elected. Within a few
years enrollments in Latin and in Greek dropped sharply, while French
and German leapt up. German had always been large (it was, after all, the
language of scholarship in the nineteenth century), and after 1893 it had
a commanding lead which it held until World War I. Then French be-
came the largest foreign language department and has remained so ever
since. In addition to language study (which included occasionally philo-
logical courses in Gothic and Old and Middle High German in the one
department, Old French and Old Provencal in the other), both depart-
ments offered a rich fare of literature courses.
Italian, introduced in 1882 by a member of the French Department, has
always been a small department. Florence H. Jackson, its sole member
from 1890 to 1926, found time in her first fourteen years at Wellesley to
teach not only Italian but also, when the need arose, courses for three
other departments, among them French epics of the Middle Ages, ele-
mentary Spanish, and the history of Greek sculpture. After 1904, when
she became associate professor and curator of the Plimpton Collection
in the library, and when enough courses were given for a major, she was
fully occupied with Italian language and literature.
Spanish, the only other modern foreign language at Wellesley in this
period, had a hesitating start. For twenty years after it was introduced
in 1883 there were never more than two courses, usually one, and some-
times none at all. It was taught by instructors from other language de-
partments or by part-time instructors until Alice H. Bushee came in
1911. Her arrival marked the beginning of a steady growth, until by
the end of the First World War it was the second largest language de-
partment.
In 1894, when the new curriculum went into effect, the courses offered
both in economics and in political science were included in the Depart-
ment of History. (Though its name made no acknowledgment of their
presence, its head, Katharine Coman, who taught not only history but
also four semester courses in economics, had the words "and of Political
THE CURRICULUM 145
Economy" added to her professorial title.) In the following year two
courses were added — including one in Social Pathology, "a study of the
defective, dependent, and delinquent classes" — that presaged the develop-
ment of another social science; and in 1897 Emily G. Balch joined the
department as instructor in economics and sociology. In 1900, after Miss
Coman had served for a year as Dean, she returned to teaching as head
of the fully independent department of Economics and Sociology.
The new department flourished; within a few years it had almost as
many students and courses as History. Economics may have been regarded
as a man's subject in coeducational institutions (there are some indica-
tions that this is still so), but not at Wellesley. In 1908 President Hazard,
noting that there were nearly 300 student elections in the department that
year, said, "A similar marked increase in the number of students took
place at the time of the free silver campaign, when it became commonly
recognized among students that some understanding of economics was
necessary to any intelligent opinion on current national problems. Sim-
ilarly today, the child labor problem, the Roosevelt policies, so called —
the Pure Food Laws, regulation of transportation and of trusts, con-
servation of coal and woodlands . . . stimulate the desire to study eco-
nomics and sociology." Monetary policy, public regulation of business,
industrial history, the analysis of selected industries (wool and cotton in
1902, lumbering in 1905), principles of statistical analysis, labor econom-
ics, and general sociology were all taught, and courses in immigration,
consumption, and money and banking were soon added.
Political Science emerged much more slowly. Elizabeth Kimball Ken-
dall, who joined the Department of History in 1888 and became its head
in 1902, gave what work was offered, at first only a single course called
"Political Science" which continued to be given under the title "History
of Political Institutions" until her retirement in 1920. The only other
courses were in constitutional law, taught by Miss Kendall from 1891 to
1896, and constitutional government, taught by a part-time instructor
from 1912 to 1920. After a two-year gap in which no course at all was
offered, Wellesley brought in its first full-time instructor in political
science, but it was Louise Overacker, appointed in 1925, who laid the
foundations of the present department, adding courses and shifting the
emphasis from the history of political institutions to analysis of current
problems and organizations. By 1931 it was an autonomous subject within
the dual department of History and Political Science, with its own in-
troductory course, a separate major, and an enrollment of about 100
students.
Meanwhile History itself remained strong throughout the period. The
1893 curriculum removed all history requirements, but the department
regularly attracted more free elections than any other except English
146 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Literature. Though its courses focused on Western Europe, England, and
the United States, other areas were studied. A course in the political
history of Russia was introduced by Julia S. Orvis in 1908; courses in
the Middle East and in the Far East were taught by Barnette Miller from
1927-28 until her retirement; and the Spanish Department's growing
interest in Latin American literature was supported by a course, first
given in 1926 by Edward E. Curtis, in the rise of Spanish American
republics.
Though the new curriculum of 1893 required two sciences, it no
longer specified chemistry and physics, and not surprisingly elections in
those departments dropped within a few years to about half what they
had been before. It seems generally true everywhere that the physical
sciences have relatively small elections among women students. Part of
the explanation may be found in students' recognition that it is difficult
for a woman to be accepted as a professional in the "hard" sciences. The
dramatic increase in elections during and immediately after World Wars
I and II bears this out, for in those years the demand for trained scien-
tists, men or women, was great. As Mr. Durant believed, women can do
the work, and whether the numbers have been large or small, Wellesley
has continued to give them the needed tools.
Providing the tools meant very different things in 1893 and in 1932.
The course names often remained the same, and in general the offerings
in all the sciences were fairly stable, but the new discoveries coming rap-
idly in the early years of the twentieth century were reflected within the
courses, though often in ways that only the specialist can fully appreciate.
Miss Whiting in 1912 spoke of the restructuring of Physics as the result
of the discoveries "in the last decades." Wellesley, she said, "has paralleled
the development from the battery to the power plant and the radio and
the analysis of the atom." As she pointed out in 1916 at the end of her
thirty-six years at Wellesley, "Subjects which have interested advanced
students in later years did not exist in the earlier days." Course descrip-
tions in Chemistry reflect an analogous development, which might be
characterized in general terms by saying that the direction of change
was from descriptive to analytic study.
A similar shift can be seen in the offerings in Botany and Zoology,
where, for instance, the early stress on taxonomy gave way to develop-
mental morphology and anatomy. In 1895-96 a single seminar called
"Philosophical Biology" introduced advanced students to the writings
of Darwin and Wallace; within a few years evolution was mentioned in
the descriptions of several courses and then became a substantial section
in introductory work in both departments. In the 1920s theories of
heredity and variation, later called genetics, became the subject of lab-
oratory courses in which students worked on practical problems in plant
THE CURRICULUM 147
or animal breeding. Microbiology appeared in 1908, and today's students
may be surprised to learn that ecology, far from being a recent concern,
was introduced into the curriculum in 1918.
When the Whitin Observatory, "furnished with the best instruments
for advanced work," was opened in 1900, Miss Whiting wrote that it was
the finest students' observatory in the country. The newly acquired 12"
equatorial telescope led to considerably more sophisticated observations
and measurements than were possible with the original 4i/ 2 " portable tele-
scope, and courses in "practical astronomy" and in "advanced observatory
work" were added. Daytime laboratory work, using photographs then
becoming available from research observatories, was also introduced,
even for elementary classes. In 1905 astronomy was recognized as a sep-
arate discipline, its courses no longer listed under Physics or Applied
Mathematics but as the offering of an independent department.
From 1896 to 1916 there were two departments of mathematics at
Wellesley. The division into pure and applied mathematics was perhaps
natural, since from the beginning there had been courses in analytical
mechanics and mathematical astronomy. Ellen Hayes, who became head
when Miss Shafer moved to the presidency, taught these courses. She
clearly was impatient with theoretical work, which she was reported to
have called "useless stuff." It is equally clear that the other teachers of
mathematics did not agree with her estimate, and the result was the for-
mation of a separate department of Applied Mathematics with Miss
Hayes as its sole member. The President's Report of 1896 merely said,
"It is desirable to give this side of the subject [i.e. pure mathematics] the
full recognition due its central importance . . . and also to encourage
studies in applied mathematics and to establish a close relation between
the latter work and allied work in Physics, Astronomy, and Geology."
The new department, which continued until Miss Hayes retired, was
always small, with an average of ten students a year.
A program unique in Wellesley's history was begun in 1909 when the
Boston Normal School of Gymnastics was incorporated as a part of the
College, and its head, Amy M. Homans, became the director of a greatly
enlarged Department of Hygiene and Physical Education. Though the
program started as an undergraduate course, accepting as special students
those who had been at the Boston Normal School, it was intended from
the first to be a graduate professional course to "fit students to become
specialists in the field of physical education and health work." It awarded
a certificate upon the completion of a two-year course, and from 1923 on
awarded the Master's degree to specially qualified students. Wellesley
undergraduates were allowed to enter a five-year course which enabled
them to earn a certificate or a Master's degree with one year of graduate
study. In addition to a varied program in the techniques of teaching
148 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
sports (over a dozen were listed), in gymnastics, and in dancing, the de-
partment offered degree-credit courses in such areas as leadership in play
and recreation, kinesiology, applied physiology, health problems of school
and community.
President Clapp's Report in 1953 noted that the department "had pio-
neered in professional training of college graduates, had helped to win for
the profession recognized status in colleges and universities, and was
known in the field for its excellent standards." She had also noted in an
earlier Report that the number of graduate students in the College as a
whole continued to be a small group, adding that presumably "that will
always be the case in a college intended primarily for undergraduates,
unless Wellesley should wish to pioneer in a phase of education which it
considers important and which is not available elsewhere." In 1909, and
for several decades after, Wellesley had carried on and strengthened the
pioneer work of the Boston Normal School of Gymnastics. By 1951 there
were many places offering graduate work of high quality in that field, and
the Trustees voted to accept the recommendation of the Academic Coun-
cil that the program be discontinued in 1953 in order that "the College's
energy and resources should be concentrated on education through the
liberal arts."
The Second Major Revision: 1932-1965
The next major curricular revision was voted in 1932 to take effect be-
ginning with the Class of 1936. As in 1893, the most important goal was
greater freedom of choice. In 1927 Dean Alice V. Waite had written: "It
is perhaps not surprising that as individualism increases in the world at
large, the young student should show less acquiescence in a system of
education imposed rather than elected." And in that year the faculty
did vote a 6-hour reduction of prescribed work. The members of the
class of 1931 and the next four classes could choose 3 hours in mathemat-
ics or in philosophy and psychology, and 3 hours in a foreign language or
in a second science. The logic of these alternatives is not clear, but at
any rate the scheme was a transitional one. Under the 1932 revision, the
prescribed work was reduced to 9 year-hours: 3 hours in Biblical history,
3 hours in English composition, and 1 hour each in hygiene, speech, and
physical education. Exemption examinations were authorized for all
these except Bible and physical education. (Physical education meant
two periods a week of "practical work" in the freshman and sophomore
years.) Instead of the earlier requirement of a course in a foreign lan-
guage, there was the stipulation that every candidate for the B.A. degree
must have a reading knowledge, tested by examination, of a modern
foreign language, usually French or German, though Italian or Spanish
THE CURRICULUM X^q
could be substituted in cases where the student could show their rele-
vance to her work. (Within a few years this was liberalized by including
ancient as well as all modern foreign languages and by allowing the stu-
dent to meet the requirement by passing the College Board examination
with an appropriately high score or by completing a course in college at
the second-year level or higher.) The remainder of the 60 hours required
for the degree were not all unrestricted, for in addition to the prescribed
work the student was directed to elect at least 6 hours from each of
three broad curricular areas: Group I, the arts, languages, and literature;
Group II, the social sciences, history, Biblical history, philosophy, and
psychology; Group III, mathematics and the sciences. Every department
of the College appeared in one or another of the groups, and work from
two different departments in each group was stipulated. In 1934-35 there
were about fifty courses, open without prerequisites, from which the
student selected six to meet the distribution requirement. In later years,
as the number of courses open without prerequisite to juniors and sen-
iors increased, she had even greater freedom of choice. To balance this
wide latitude in course selection, there was an increase in the number of
hours for a major. Work for concentration was to consist of a major of
12 to 15 hours with related or supplementary work in other departments
of 9 to 6 hours.
It is fair to say that this new curriculum lasted for thirty years, but
important modifications within its basic pattern were brought about by a
curricular review that took place in the war years between 1943 and 1945.
Though the College was much less affected by the war than were the
men's colleges, still it had lent its president to the Navy and had intro-
duced a number of special curricular and extracurricular courses. By 1943
the faculty felt that it would be wise to look beyond the immediate needs
of the war years. Accordingly a Long Term Policy Committee was ap-
pointed and directed to consider all matters that had a bearing on edu-
cational policy. It was a broad mandate. The committee did look at a
variety of topics from freshman housing policy to the place of graduate
study at Wellesley, but only the curricular recommendations are relevant
to this chapter. What emerged was a modified group distribution plan
and a slight reduction in prescribed work. Both the 1-hour freshman
hygiene course and the 1-hour sophomore speech course were dropped.
(One result, not unanticipated, was the gradual elimination of 1-hour
courses in other departments, many of which were transformed into 3-
hour semester courses.) Six full courses were still required for distri-
bution, but the choices within the three groups were somewhat more
restricted. Since Biblical history and English composition were required,
courses from these departments could no longer be chosen for distribu-
tion. Nor could courses in education or speech, the two departments in
150 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
which no major was offered. In Group I, one full course was to be in
literature (English or foreign); in Group II, one was to be in economics,
political science, or sociology, to insure some acquaintance with con-
temporary social institutions, and the other in philosophy or history; in
Group III, one full course was to be in laboratory science. (Psychology,
which was placed in Group III, did not count as a laboratory science,
nor did mathematics or geography.) The choices were narrowed, but at
the same time there was increased opportunity for exemption, so that the
able and well-prepared student was allowed to anticipate some of the
work for distribution by passing examinations given by the appropriate
departments.* There were some changes in the scheme for concentration,
including the setting up of four or five interdepartmental majors, but on
the whole this curricular review can be taken as a reaffirmation of the
1932 plan. Perhaps the only remarkable thing about it was the unanimity
of the faculty vote of acceptance.
Although the curricular framework was essentially unchanged from
1932 to 1965, there were nonetheless a number of significant develop-
ments within departments and some departmental reorganization.
In Biblical history, with the requirement cut from 4i/£ to 3 hours, Old
Testament study was reduced in the sophomore course to a single se-
mester in order to make room for the study of the Synoptic Gospels in
the second semester. There was, however, further elective work in both
the Old and New Testaments. Offerings in non-Biblical material ex-
panded, especially in the area of the history of Christian thought, in
Christian ethics, and in Judaic studies, but the study of the Bible itself
remained central. For most of the period the department was the third
or fourth largest in the College. President Horton, commenting on the
Academic Council's decision in 1945 to retain the Biblical history require-
ment, said, "Its significance lies in the effect it has of maintaining the
Judeo-Christian tradition as a dominant fact in the cultural heritage of
American students."
Except for Biblical History, the departments in Group II were all
double ones, and they were all large. In 1936, for instance, Economics
and Sociology, History and Political Science, Philosophy and Psychology
ranked 1, 2, and 3 in the number of major students. No doubt the prob-
lems of the depression years and the political upheavals in Europe stimu-
lated student interest in the social science courses, though it had been
large before. In 1939 the Academic Council voted the separation of
* Later, after the College Board Advanced Placement Examinations had come into
being, the faculty voted to give credit toward the degree to students who achieved an
honors grade in these tests. This meant that after 1959 an increasing number of stu-
dents found it possible, perhaps with summer study, to graduate in less than four years.
THE CURRICULUM 151
Political Science, Psychology, and Sociology from their parent depart-
ments — not, however, because of size, but rather because the interests and
methods of each half of the dual departments had become increasingly
different. Political Science, with ten semester courses, and Psychology,
with fifteen, had long had separate majors, so that the division meant
chiefly that each now had its own chairman. Since there had been fewer
courses in Sociology, the separation in this case led to a considerable ex-
pansion in course offerings. A new course in the community, which in-
cluded a study of urban society, another in ethnic groups in the United
States, and a third in cultural anthropology marked the beginnings of sub-
jects which were to become increasingly prominent in the later offerings
of the department.
Until 1947 English Composition and English Literature were separate
departments. Composition had, of course, been responsible for the many
writing courses then offered, but in addition its members had over the
years offered courses in contemporary and recent literature — drama, po-
etry, the essay, and fiction — probably because of its importance in pro-
viding models for student writers, while Literature had focused on pre-
twentieth-century authors. But both taught literature. Moreover, the
graduate training of instructors in both was largely the same, as were
their interests and aims. Thus, on the recommendation of a large major-
ity of the faculty members of each department, the Academic Council
voted that the two should be merged into the single department of Eng-
lish. After a transitional period of some ten years, the work for the major
came to be essentially in literature. Workshops in writing — that is,
courses beyond the required freshman composition — continued to be
offered, but most of the courses and most of the elections were in litera-
ture.
There are relatively few curricular changes to record in foreign lan-
guage instruction, though the language laboratory, new in 1958, did
make a difference in methods of instruction, particularly for beginning
students of modern foreign languages.
Throughout the period French held a commanding lead among the
languages, with an average of about three times as many students as any
other language department. A change in admission requirements was
marked in 1936-37 by the appearance of a course in beginning Latin,
given "on request"; Latin (or Greek) was now only recommended, not
required, as an admission subject. Greek, by this time, had become a sub-
ject that was almost always begun in college, but the excellence of in-
struction and the rapidity of student progress were strikingly illustrated
by the plays in Greek given usually in the Hay amphitheatre, but occa-
sionally, for a performance of The Frogs, in and around the swimming
pool.
152 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
World War II had a profound effect on several departments. German,
which had gradually recovered from the effects of World War I, again
declined sharply, and Spanish took its place as the second largest lan-
guage department. The rapid rise in elections in Spanish may, in part,
have been the result of interest generated by the Roosevelt good neighbor
policy, but the more important reason was the presence of two remark-
able scholar-poets — Pedro Salinas from 1936 to 1940 and Jorge Guillen
from 1940 to his retirement in 1958 — both exiles from war-torn Spain.
World War II may also have been the immediate reason for adding
Russian to the curriculum. There had long been courses in Russian his-
tory and politics, but the study of the language came in 1944, when
Vladimir Nabokov, who had been at Wellesley two years earlier as "in-
terdepartmental visitor in comparative literature," was appointed Lec-
turer in Russian. When he resigned four years later there were two full
years of language study in Russian and a course in Russian literature in
translation. A third year of language study was added by his successor in
1949, and ten years later a fourth course. By 1969 the number of elec-
tions was large enough to warrant offering a major.
Changes in the science curriculum came gradually in the period from
1935 to 1960. To describe the constant updating that went on within
courses as the sciences themselves developed would require more space
and more scientific competence than the writer of this chapter commands.
But even the layman can recognize a shift that came after 1960, the result
of vastly increased government support of science in the post-Sputnik
era. Study commissions in the physical sciences, in mathematics, and in
biology led to greatly improved secondary school courses, which in turn
made more sophisticated college work possible. Increased competence
in mathematics was particularly important, for it meant that calculus, a
necessary tool in many science courses, could be given as the standard
freshman course at Wellesley. All the sciences benefited, as they did also
from a number of National Science Foundation equipment grants. Men-
tion should also be made of the Undergraduate Research Participation
program, supported by the N.S.F., which enabled students in chemistry
first, and later in biology, to spend eight weeks in the summer working
with faculty members on various research projects. A more extended
program, also supported by the N.S.F., was the Chemistry Institute
(1964-72), designed to enable mature women who had been undergradu-
ate majors five to twenty-five years before to revive and extend their
knowledge of chemistry and to earn a Master's degree.
One notices in reading the science sections of the catalogues over the
years that subjects which once were taught only on the Grade III level
tend to find their way into Grade II or even Grade I courses. Often this
THE CURRICULUM 153
marks a dramatic growth in the subject itself, as well as better student
preparation, so that departments seek to introduce underclassmen as
early as possible to areas in which further advanced work is offered.
Physical chemistry, for example, formerly a Grade III course, now oc-
cupies a large section of the introductory course, while one biochemistry
course has moved from Grade III to Grade II. Other examples are Grade I
microbiology and Grade II courses in genetics and in histology-cytology,
all formerly taught only on the Grade III level. One also notices quite
new subjects appearing in course descriptions, such as lunar geology and
continental drift in the introductory geology course, and in a Grade II
astronomy course radio galaxies and quasars.
There have been two important changes in departmental organization
of the sciences in the last twenty years. Geology and Geography, in a
dual department from the beginning, had grown apart over the years.
Geology was and is a "laboratory" science having close ties with both the
physical and the biological sciences, while Geography always stressed its
relations to economics and history. In 1954 they separated. The work in
each continued much as before during the next decade. Then in 1965,
after both members of the Geography Department had resigned to take
positions elsewhere, only a single course in urban geography was given,
and thereafter no geography. Any middle-sized liberal arts college has
the problem of deciding how many departments it can support. There are
many important and interesting areas that could claim a place, but with
limited resources and a relatively small student body it is necessary to
choose. Wellesley chose not to try to rebuild Geography, but rather to
concentrate on the other sciences which seemed more central.
A second organizational shift came in 1964 when Botany and Zoology
merged to form the Department of Biological Sciences. The many com-
mon concerns, evidenced by the fact that both gave courses in physiology,
genetics, histology, cytology, and both dealt with evolution in several
courses, made this union logical and even inevitable. After the merger,
common introductory courses were given, and consolidated Grade II
courses in genetics, cell physiology, and ecology could achieve new rich-
ness and more biological understanding by referring to both plants and
animals. Other courses which focused on one area or the other remained
— horticulture, for example, and endocrinology, and separate courses in
animal and plant physiology. For all majors there are now four semesters
of common work, after which students may design a program in general
biology or one that emphasizes subjects dealing with animals or plants
or microorganisms. In recent years an interdepartmental major in mo-
lecular biology, sponsored by Biology and Chemistry, has been added.
154 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
A Decade of Change: 1965-1975
Miss Clapp in her Report on the years 1958-60 spoke of the new serious-
ness in American education that "is bringing to Wellesley a student body
each year more nearly ready on entrance for the scholar's idea of 'higher
education.' " One mark of this was a new class schedule, voted in 1958,
which reduced class time from three 50-minute periods to two 60-minute
periods a week for most classes and freed Wednesday and Saturday morn-
ings from all appointments. The resulting increase in consecutive time
for individual study was coupled with the expectation of more student
initiative and responsibility. As Miss Clapp said, the hope was that
"Wellesley students will accomplish as much as heretofore with more
serenity, more independence, and consequently with more on-going in-
terest and competence in learning." Most students and faculty members
evidently found that the new schedule lived up to expectations. Class
meetings were later increased to 70 minutes when the number of weeks
in a semester was reduced, but meeting twice a week has remained the
norm to the present time.
In her Reports in 1956 and again in 1960 Miss Clapp suggested that in
addition to the annual review each department made of its own courses, it
was desirable that there be, perhaps every decade, an inclusive examina-
tion — one which could cross subject and department lines to appraise the
total educational opportunity for Wellesley students. In 1962 a new fac-
ulty review committee was elected to do just this. Its report, presented
to the Academic Council two years later, was debated at length, somewhat
modified, and then adopted to go into effect in 1965-66.
Much was kept from the old curriculum: a distribution requirement,
somewhat modified by placing psychology again in the group with the
social sciences;* English composition for freshmen, now reduced to a
one-semester course; and Biblical history for sophomores, unchanged,
though only after a good deal of questioning on the part of many fac-
ulty members who felt that other subjects were equally important. The
new plan was innovative in the arrangement of the courses and in the
stress that it placed on varied methods of instruction and of learning.
The most striking change was in the calendar, which divided the aca-
demic year into three terms, the first two of thirteen weeks in which the
student carried four courses each meeting for two 70-minute periods a
week, the third of six and a half weeks in which she carried two courses
each meeting twice as often. As Miss Clapp explained, the purposes of
* It had been in Group III from 1945 to 1965.
THE CURRICULUM 155
the change were "to end the unsatisfactory interruption caused by the
Christmas vacation shortly before the examination period in the first
semester, to permit more variety of ways of learning during the aca-
demic year, and to lessen the number of academic interests which the
student must maintain at one time without lessening the opportunity
for breadth which the five-course program gives."
The "variety of ways of learning" came not only with the change of
pace in the academic year, two terms for more extensive work and one for
intensive work; it was also one of the motives for the introduction of
large lecture courses, in which, it was hoped, the student might develop
a kind of independence in learning complementing her experience in the
usual, and rightly dominant, small classes. For freshmen there was a
1-term course in the Hellenic heritage; for upperclassmen, a course in the
history of China, or in the modernization of traditional societies focusing
on Africa, or in turning points in recent scientific thought.
Another sort of independent learning was built into the scheme with
the "290" course for juniors and the "340" for seniors. In 290 each jun-
ior spent one half of her time in Term III carrying through a project of
her own choosing within the major field and outside the context of in-
struction. In 340 each senior spent half her time in Term III preparing
for the comprehensive examination in her major, re-evaluating and in-
tegrating her earlier course work.
The new calendar entailed more than merely shifting some courses to
the new third term. It was possible now for departments to plan 3-term
sequences of courses within the academic year so that students could
be ready earlier than before for advanced work in a field that interested
them. It also meant that nearly all departments offered 1-term introduc-
tory courses, which made it easier for students to explore a variety of
fields before choosing their majors. (It should be explained that from
now on the standard course is called a "unit" of work, corresponding
roughly to what had been called a 3-hour semester course.) A noteworthy
example of both trends was a cooperative physical science sequence, in
which an introductory unit in the basic principles of physics, important
to all the sciences, preceded work in chemistry, astronomy, or geology.
To cite another example of the effect of the calendar on curriculum, the
Department of Education for the first time found it possible to offer a
course in supervised teaching (in the third term), with the result that
a student who had taken other courses in the department could earn
certification as a teacher by the time she graduated.
It may have been the most innovative and imaginative curriculum
in Wellesley's history. The students especially liked having courses end
before vacations. A large majority of students and faculty found the
290 independent study unit both exciting and valuable, though there
156 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
was much less enthusiasm about the large lecture courses. But the scheme
lasted only three years. Perhaps it required too many changes too rapidly.
The calendar arrangement itself required many departments not only to
devise new sequences of courses but also to restructure existing courses
and in some cases to offer new 1-unit introductory work. When by 1968
the M.I.T. exchange program was in full swing, the calendar differences
in the two institutions made cross-registration very difficult for many
who wanted to take advantage of it. Added to this was the widespread
student unrest of the period (much less disruptive at Wellesley than at
many other colleges, but nonetheless a factor), one manifestation of which
was a general impatience with any required studies.
And so once again the faculty reconsidered the educational scheme
at Wellesley and in 1968 yet another "new" curriculum was voted, this
one relatively unstructured and on the whole more relaxed than earlier
ones. A two-semester calendar was reinstated (which meant giving up
290); Biblical history for sophomores, English composition for freshmen,
and the lecture courses were dropped, as was the General Examination in
the major (which meant giving up 340). The number of units of work
required for the degree was cut from 40 to 32, which entailed a reduction
in distribution requirements to three units in each of the three groups.
With the abandonment of the requirement in Biblical history, the de-
partment felt it necessary to introduce major curricular changes. The
"systematic and serious study of the Scriptures" continues, but now for a
much smaller group of students in courses which are wholly elective.
Beginning in 1968 we find a notable increase in non-Biblical courses,
which in 1975 constitute over three quarters of the total offering.
Work in the department is open to freshmen, who can elect grade I
work in the Old and in the New Testament, in Asian religions, or in
religion in the modern Western world, or, if the grade II label does not
discourage them, any one of three courses in theology. For upperclass-
men there is expanded work in theology, both Jewish and Christian, in
Asian religions, and in American religious history. Among the new
courses are two in the psychology of religion, one in primitive religion,
and one in black religion and social protest.
Perhaps the best way to summarize the changes is to point to the new
name of the department. In 1968, at the request of its members, the
Trustees voted to entitle it "Religion and Biblical Studies." Since then
there have been two fairly distinct majors — one in Biblical studies and
the other in religious studies.
The framework of the curriculum has remained the same since 1968,
but the period has been one of rapid change. The Dean reported that
whereas there were 160 curriculum changes in 1968-69, the number in
1972-73 was 284. Only those that seem to mark general trends will be
THE CURRICULUM 157
mentioned here. Two or three of these may remind the reader of courses
or programs in the first period of Wellesley's history. In 1890 there was a
department of Comparative Philology with courses in Sanskrit and in
the comparative grammar of Greek and Latin and of the Teutonic lan-
guages; today there are courses in historical linguistics, in the philosophy
of language, and in the psychology of language. In 1875-79 the study of
"literature" meant reading in translation masterpieces from most of the
countries in Europe; and again in the 1970s there are courses devoted to
literature in translation, now given separately by the modern language
departments as well as by Classics. Providing a place for studio art and
performing music was the main function of the old Schools of Art and
Music. In the last few years "practical" work, as it used to be called, has
achieved a significantly larger place than it had had since the demise of
the Five Years' Courses, but now within the regular curriculum. In
Music, as many as four units of credit may be given for "intensive study
of interpretation and of advanced performance problems in the litera-
ture." In Art, a major in studio work is now possible, with eleven se-
mester courses to choose from — in drawing, painting, sculpture, design,
printmaking, and photography.
For some of the other recent curricular developments there are no early
analogues. Obviously there could be no course in automatic computation
in the first decades of the College. That came in the 1960s, by which time
it had become clear that all science majors, as well as many in the social
sciences, needed to be able to use a computer. Hence in 1968 the statis-
tics laboratory in Green Hall was transformed into a computer center,
and an instructor in computer science was added to the staff. Relatively
new, also, is the need to introduce courses in science and mathematics,
not to be counted in the major, for those who, at home in only one of
C. P. Snow's two cultures, are reluctant, or not well enough prepared, to
undertake the rather sophisticated work now found in most beginning
Group III courses. The non-scientifically-minded student needs to learn
something of what goes on today in the rapidly expanding and tremen-
dously important other culture. After all, Wellesley has always believed
that any liberally educated person must have some acquaintance with
this area of human endeavor. Thus there are courses that presuppose no
college mathematics nor any specific secondary school science. In physics
there are two such courses, both non-quantitative in approach, entitled
"Physics in Perspective" and "Physics of Perception and Esthetics."
Chemistry offers two semesters in contemporary problems, one focusing
on the properties of water, the other on foods and metabolism. In biology
the need is met by a course in the anatomy and physiology of man; in
mathematics, by an introduction to mathematical thought and an intro-
duction to finite mathematics. In astronomy, where courses for the major
158 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
have always presupposed mathematics and physics, the non-technical
introductory course goes back to 1916-17.
Courses dealing with areas and cultures outside North America and
Western Europe are not new. The art, history, and religions of Asia have
long been studied at Wellesley. But in the past decade the growth of
subjects loosely called "non-Western" has been striking. The Department
of History leads with some fifteen courses, dealing not only with China
and Japan but now with Africa and with the Arab world as well, and
there is further work in these areas given by the Departments of Political
Science, Sociology and Anthropology, and Economics.
In the spring of 1966 it was decided that Wellesley should offer in-
struction in Chinese, six units in 1966-67, later increased to thirteen units,
and in addition two units of Chinese literature in translation. Since 1970,
an interdepartmental major has been possible combining study of the
language with courses in Chinese history, art, politics, and religion.
The Black Studies program, greatly expanded since its introduction
in 1968, now has departmental status. The 1974-75 catalogue listed
twenty-six courses, many of which were cross-listed in other departments
— History and Sociology and Anthropology with the most, but seven
other departments represented — from which a major can be constructed.
The newest area to be represented in the curriculum is, appropriately
enough, Woman. The lengthy debate on coeducation ended when the
Trustees voted in 1971 that the College should not grant degrees to men,
but it seems to have been what the women's liberation movement would
call a "consciousness-raising" experience. (For one thing, student opinion
seems to have shifted in three years from strong advocacy of coeducation
at Wellesley to general approval of continuing as a women's college.) At
any rate, courses on women began to appear in the curriculum, ranging
from "The Role of Women in Antiquity" to "Contemporary Woman:
An Interdisciplinary Perspective," and including within this time-span
courses in women writers in English, the image of woman in French lit-
erature, a psychological study of the implications of being female, and
a philosophy course in feminist theories.
Flexibility and variation are now built into the curriculum. Most de-
partments offer courses numbered 249 or 349 in which the subject may
change yearly to meet student interests or to take advantage of special
faculty competence. And if a student's special interest is not satisfied she
may, as before, elect a unit or two of independent study. If she wishes
still more variation or desires work in subjects like architectural design
or electrical engineering not offered at Wellesley, she may, if she has the
approval of the department adviser, elect courses at M.I.T. under the
cross-registration program which was worked out in 1967, tried by a few
students in that planning year, and officially inaugurated in 1968-69. A
THE CURRICULUM
»59
shuttle bus runs between the two campuses carrying an average of well
over 200 cross-registrants each semester. Majors, too, are more flexible.
Some eight interdepartmental majors are outlined in the catalogue, and in
addition a student may, with the advice of two faculty members, design
an individual major which centers on an area or a period or a subject
that cuts across departmental lines.
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The laboratory of Sarah Frances Whiting, the first professor of physics and astronomy.
Annie Jump Cannon '84, renowned astronomer, was the third student from the left.
A present-day physics laboratory taught by Professor Janet B. Guernsey.
Zoologist Mary Alice Willcox, class, and skeletons in 1883.
Botanist Harriet B. Creighton in 1970.
Zoologists Gladys McCosh, Harriet Water-
man, and Virginia Fiske and skeleton in 1956.
Jean Crawford, Charlotte Roberts Professor of Chemistry, and a recent class.
A House of Commons debate in Elizabeth
Kendall's class in government in the 1900s.
A political science class taught by Alan H. Schechter in the 1970s.
Helen T. Lin's seminar in Chinese.
Richard W. Wallace's art history class in the lewett Arts Center.
Classes which moved outside Founders
Hall on a lovely spring day.
MAUD HAZELTINE CHAPLIN
Students:
In the Beginning and Now
Considering the span of years and the continuing emphasis on a di-
versified student body, it is remarkable that Wellesley students can be
characterized at all. Certain characteristics have persisted, however, chiefly
perhaps because from the very beginning, as the first College Calendar
cautioned, Wellesley was intended "for those students only who have
vigorous health, more than ordinary ability, and the purpose to give
themselves faithfully to the pursuit of knowledge, and to discipline and
develop their minds by arduous study." Although these first requisites
for admission have been modified in detail over the years, evidence of
good health and intellectual competence and interest have remained
essential attributes and hence have provided a measure of consistency to
the character of the student body.
The very first students were indeed pioneers. For women — faculty as
well as students — to have the opportunities which they had at Wellesley
was remarkable, as the following account in the Syracuse Journal in
1879 of a visit by Lucy Stone, one of the earliest leaders in the women's
rights movement, indicates: "At this college 'the cooks are men, the pro-
fessors are women.' The visitors were invited to look at the microscope
work of the school. The girls have more than fifty microscopes constantly
in use, and gave an exhibit of animal, mineral and vegetable specimens
which was much to their credit. They also have row-boats, each with its
own colors, captain and crew. The girls are accustomed to exercise
themselves at their oars, in the lake, every evening, and are said to look
very rosy and healthy."
It is not surprising that the students were "very rosy and healthy." In
the early years great emphasis was placed upon good health because one
of the principal concerns of prospective applicants and their parents
164
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 165
was the possible deleterious effect of rigorous study. Mr. Durant, how-
ever, was firmly convinced that "the prevailing ill-health of American
school-girls is not due to hard study, but is in most cases due to the viola-
tion of the plain laws of nature as to fresh air, simple and nourishing food,
daily exercise, sufficient sleep and suitable dress." He therefore included in
the first catalogue this reassuring statement: "The health of the students
is of primary importance. In the construction of the college buildings
this was constantly in view. Everything possible has been done to give an
abundance of light, sunshine, and fresh air to the inmates. . . . The
location is known as the most healthy in the healthy state of Massachu-
setts"! Reiterated throughout the early history of the College is the
Founder's concern for health, his belief in the importance of proper diet
and exercise. The first students were required to have one hour of out-
door exercise daily, a requirement which could be met by walking on the
campus. But if they chanced to encounter Mr. Durant on such an excur-
sion, they ran the risk of a personal lecture on the importance of deep
breathing and the proper way to engage in healthy exercise. It must have
been a source of great pride to him that the 1877 catalogue advised
students that their wardrobe should provide for "great allowance for
increase of size that almost invariably results from life at the college."
Good health, however necessary a condition for good scholarship, was
considered, then as now, only one factor in a student's education. Recog-
nizing the influence which young people have on each other and desiring
to create a residential community in which learning is more than a class-
room experience, Wellesley has always sought a diversified student body,
n its first fifty years more than sixty percent of the students came from
utside the New England area. As early as 1881-82, Wellesley could claim
two students from Oregon, two from Texas, and one each from Colo-
rado and California!
Upon being asked not long ago why she chose Wellesley although she
lived in the distant state of Montana, Edith Mills Purcell '09 recalled:
"Being an outdoor person, I did not fancy a postage-stamp campus, and
Wellesley's beautiful campus and lake were most appealing. Although
used to western scenery and the grandeur of the Rockies, the thought of
living amidst New England beauty as typified by the Wellesley campus
was most attractive. ... I liked the history of Wellesley and its early
presidents and especially the Wellesley motto and the emphasis placed
upon it. I liked the fact that Wellesley stressed the enrollment of stu-
dents from all parts of the country. Later I was delighted to find class-
mates from Texas, Georgia, Hawaii etc. to balance those more to be ex-
pected from Maine and Massachusetts. Last, but by no means least, the
proximity of Boston had strong allure! ... In retrospect, acknowledg-
ing of course Wellesley's preeminence in the vanguard academically, I
l66 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
would say that the campus and lake and nearness of Boston were the
chief factors in making my decision." Wherever students come from,
their reasons for choosing Wellesley have not varied greatly over the
years. Its academic reputation, the beauty of the campus, proximity to
Boston are all frequently mentioned. In addition, applicants often cite
the enthusiasm of alumnae relatives and friends. Sometimes, however, the
enthusiasm backfires. One alumna daughter, accepted by Wellesley, was
unequivocal about her decision to go elsewhere: "Let me just remind
you that for seventeen years my mother said, 'If you don't eat your
spinach, you can't go to Wellesley.' By the time I learned to like spinach,
I just couldn't stomach Wellesley."
Geographic diversity extended beyond the United States. In 1888-89
Wellesley had its first foreign student, Kin Kato Takeda, a "Special Stu-
dent," as was another Japanese student, Tadzu Sugiye Tokita '94. The
distinction of being the first foreign student to receive a Wellesley B.A.
belongs to Jisuye Koike Takehara '12.
The Japanese were the first to come, but the Chinese were responsible
for our first foreign scholarships. On February 13, 1906, the Chinese
High Commissioners of Education came to Wellesley as a part of their
inspection of the American system of education. The Dowager Empress
of China had expressed a wish that they visit a large college for women,
and Wellesley was selected. When the Commissioners arrived at the
Wellesley station they were met by a delegation representing the trustees,
the administration, the faculty, and the students. "We were so fortunate
as to have two students [Lottie Hartwell Ufford '06 and Frances Taft
Pyke '09] who could address them in their own language," Miss Hazard
was to comment later. A short tour of inspection of College Hall and
the campus ended at the Chapel, where the faculty and students had
assembled to hear Miss Hazard's welcoming address and the announce-
ment that the Trustees had voted to provide three scholarships for Chi-
nese students to foster "friendly relations between the women of the old-
est and youngest civilizations in the world." In the fall of 1907 three
students from China duly arrived on campus, but only one was found
to be fully prepared for college work. The other two students went to
Walnut Hill for further preparation, returning to Wellesley and gradu-
ating a few years later.
In 1946, when few American colleges had come to recognize the need
of foreign students for special counseling and orientation, President
Horton asked Carol Roehm '22, a member of the Spanish Department, to
serve as adviser to Wellesley's foreign students. At the same time she
requested Miss Roehm to organize the Wellesley Summer Institute for
Foreign Students. This provided orientation to American academic life
for students of many different language backgrounds, both men and
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 167
women, who came to study in American colleges and universities during
the years which followed World War II. When the Institute was discon-
tinued in 1950 it had served as a model for scores of similar orientation
sessions on other campuses.
By 1955, students from fifty-four countries had studied here. In that
one year there were fifty-six foreign students on campus. In 1973-74 there
were ninety-three students from forty-three countries in Asia, Africa, Eu-
rope, and South America. As early as 1923 the Trustees voted to provide
scholarships specifically for foreign students, and they have allocated
increasingly larger sums for this purpose over the years. In recent years
the campus has been further enriched by the presence of Slater Fellows,
students from abroad who study at Wellesley for a year and then return
to their home universities. The Slater International Center, opened in
the fall of 1972 in Agora, formerly a Society House, provides a gathering
place for all students, both foreign and American, who are interested in
international understanding. Both the Slater Fellowships and the Center
were made possible through the generosity of Priscilla Allen Slater '16
and her husband, Ellis D. Slater.
Geographic diversity is, however, only one aspect of the many kinds
of diversity which Wellesley has traditionally sought. In his address on
the "American Scholar" delivered at Bowdoin College in August 1862,
Mr. Durant stated the premises of his educational beliefs: "The first
object and duty of the true patriot should be to elevate and educate all
our people" so that national greatness can be assured. The very first Col-
lege Calendar lamented the fact that there were "many young women of
fine talents earnestly desiring to fit themselves for usefulness, who can-
not meet even the small expenses of the college," and went on to petition
for the provision of funds for scholarship aid.
The charge for board and tuition was placed as low as possible ($250,
which even at that time was considered moderate) to encourage applica-
tions from students with limited means, and Henry Fowle Durant's
preference for "calico girls" over those of "velvet" is well-known. He was
also adamant that "those who are wealthy as well as those who are not,
are expected to practice economy and to discourage display and extrava-
gance in dress and personal expenditure." To this end he established
the practice of domestic work whereby all of the students aided in some
of the lighter household tasks. By giving one hour a day, the College
Calendar maintained, students enabled the College to keep the price
for board and tuition at nearly half what it might have been.
In the spring of 1878, Mrs. M. H. Simpson, a trustee of the College,
invited a group of Boston women to her home at Mrs. Durant's sugges-
tion to discuss ways of providing aid to those who could not afford
Wellesley's fees. As a result, the "Students' Aid Society of Wellesley Col-
l68 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
lege" was founded and three of the guests pledged $5,000 each. For the
ensuing year the College Calendar was able to state that "Students re-
quiring pecuniary assistance are referred to Students' Aid Society." For
1878-79 four scholarships were available, but this was hardly enough: to
meet the wants of the numerous applicants for assistance, one hundred
scholarships were needed. Although more scholarship funds became
available, both through the Students' Aid Society and through indi-
vidual donors to the College, in 1893 President Shafer was still obliged
to report "that applications for financial aid from students already in
college, who have met the various tests of life and work, among us, ex-
ceed the means at the disposal of the college and of the Treasurer of the
Students' Aid Society." By 1904, twenty-one percent of the student body
received some form of scholarship aid, a figure which by no means
equalled the number to whom the College would have liked to give aid
had the funds been available.
Another means of enabling students of moderate means to attend
Wellesley was the establishment beginning in 1886 of cooperative houses
in which students assumed greater housekeeping responsibilities for re-
duced fees. This arrangement, however, defeated the larger goal of hav-
ing students from a variety of economic backgrounds learn from each
other in the informal setting of residential life. In 1952 President Clapp
decided to abolish cooperative houses, lest the College "forfeit for all
students some of the democratic values which it wishes to uphold and
strengthen."
In 1946 the Faculty Committee on Long Term Educational Policy
urged that more attention be paid to economic and social distribution to
avoid the possibility of Wellesley's becoming a one-class college. Thus
far, since most grants had been relatively small, scholarship aid had
favored the student of moderate means over the student with limited
resources. Roughly twenty-five percent of the student body received
between $400 and $500 (the all-inclusive college fee then being $1,250).
One of the goals of the 75th Anniversary Fund Campaign was to in-
crease funds so that the Committee's expression of hope could become
a reality. In the end, half of the total amount received through the cam-
paign went to scholarships, and there subsequently was a deliberate effort
to offer substantial scholarships to secondary school students who would
not even have considered Wellesley previously. However, as Mary E.
Chase, Director of Admission from 1946 until 1962, frequently com-
mented, it was difficult to make members of the college community
aware of the success of the effort because within two or three weeks of
the opening of the College the students who had been selected from low-
income families were indistinguishable from other students. This was
partly the result of the casual dress on campus, the fact the students paid
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 169
no attention to the financial status of their friends' parents (and fre-
quently weren't aware of it), and the fact that Wellesley students were
fiercely egalitarian (and still are)!
In addition to providing larger awards for students with extremely
limited financial resources, Miss Clapp was instrumental in bringing
about two other important policies involving financial aid. On the
theory that the student, her parents, and the College should all have a
share in financing her education, students from this country received
awards that were a combination of gift and loan. After the freshman
year, a student was expected to work for from three to five hours a week
in college departments or offices. In general, this procedure for making
awards is followed today. In 1960, when there was an inadequate supply
of good teachers for primary and secondary schools and colleges, Miss
Clapp conceived a plan to encourage able students to enter the teaching
profession through an arrangement for retroactively converting to gift
some or all of a loan of a student who entered the teaching profession
upon graduating from Wellesley or after graduate study in arts and
sciences or education. The program stimulated a considerable number of
well-qualified students to become teachers who otherwise could not have
afforded to so. It was discontinued in 1970 when the need for teachers
was no longer urgent.
In very recent years more scholarship aid has become available. The
Class of 1977 was the first in which no freshman requiring aid was denied
it. Freshmen receiving financial aid comprised thirty-seven percent of
that class. Also, a new procedure for awarding aid has evolved. When
there were not enough funds to meet the need, the Scholarship Commit-
tee had to choose among the students requiring aid. The members of the
Scholarship Committee, whose name had been changed to the Financial
Aid Committee in 1971, became increasingly disturbed that they were
making decisions affecting the academic life of a student, because if they
failed to award aid to her she might be forced to withdraw from the Col-
lege. They deemed it more appropriate for the Academic Review Board,
which is responsible for reviewing the records of students, to decide
whether or not a student should continue at Wellesley. If the student's
record, along with the evaluations of her faculty and, often, extenuating
circumstances reported by her Class Dean, justified her continuing at
Wellesley, the Financial Aid Committee believed that she should be
awarded the necessary funds. And as long as sufficient funds are available,
financial aid will be provided for any student with demonstrated need.
Aside from economic, social, and geographical diversity, Wellesley
students also represent a broad spectrum of religious affiliation and racial
backgrounds. Despite his evangelism, Mr. Durant insisted that the Col-
lege be non-sectarian. Gradually, a deliberate effort was made to in-
170 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
elude students from a variety of religious and ethnic backgrounds. The
concept which prevailed up to 1947 was explained in that year by Presi-
dent Horton: "to select a freshman class from among candidates fully
qualified for entrance in such a way that geographic, racial and religious
groups would be represented in proportion designed to provide varied
contacts while maintaining so far as possible a prejudice- free commu-
nity." But in 1947, stimulated by a Fair Educational Practices Act en-
acted in New York State and proposed in the Commonwealth of Massa-
chusetts, the College decided that the selection of students as representa-
tives of groups rather than solely as individuals was not necessarily the
best way to create a prejudice-free community. Accordingly, it was voted
that for the classes entering in the fall of 1949 and thereafter the in-
quiries about race and religion should be omitted from the application
blanks. At that time President Horton commented prophetically: "It is
a witness to the tragic state of human relations even in free America
that the way to prove good faith toward members of minority groups
has to be by studied ignorance of their membership in those groups!"
Twenty years later the minority groups themselves asserted a desire to
be recognized and identified as separate, and not to be assimilated with-
out first gaining recognition for their own cultural contributions. Ac-
cordingly, religious minorities have experienced a resurgence of interest
in traditional rituals; and, similarly, racial minorities have formed as-
sociations in which they can join together in observances of their ethnic
heritage. Black students may join Ethos, an organization designed to
promote black awareness; and Chicanos, Puerto Ricans, and American
Indians have organized Mezcla, which supports and encourages activities
on and off campus that contribute to the College and stimulate cultural
identity.
Because the records of the College are not maintained according to
race, there is no way of learning with certainty the number of black stu-
dents who have attended. From 1880 to 1960 Wellesley, like most colleges,
was largely content to afford black students equal opportunity to enter
and to qualify for financial aid. There was an effort, only moderately
successful, during the 75th Anniversary Fund Campaign to seek funds
specifically for "Negro Students." The first black student, as far as can
be ascertained, entered as a member of the Class of 1884. Among other
early black students was Harriet Rice '87, who went on to become one
of the first women physicians in the United States. A special effort was
initiated in 1963 after a series of White House meetings called by Presi-
dent Kennedy and designed to emphasize the urgency of developing edu-
cational and employment opportunities for blacks.
In response to this critical national problem, Margaret Clapp con-
ceived a program to permit able students at predominantly black South-
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 17 1
ern colleges to take their junior year at Wellesley. At that time, President
Clapp reflected: "We have not been able to locate as many qualified
Negro women students who wish to come to Wellesley as we would like
to have. We think it important that our white students live and work
with some Negro students, for the same reason that we try to have all
kinds of diversity (except in integrity and basic ability) in the student
body — as a means to help all to learn how inadequate are most of the
cliches and generalizations about groups of people, to learn from each
other the problems and hopes of different regions and cultural back-
grounds, and to make a wide variety of personal connections which so
few people can do easily outside of this type of campus. These guest-
juniors will bring a new dimension to us, and, possibly, if we can afford
to maintain the program for several years, may through talks in their
home communities lead in due course to our receiving more applications
from qualified southern Negro girls for the four-year course." This "Jun-
ior Year in the North Program," which continued for three years, was
named in memory of Catherine Hughes Waddell '20, chairman of the
New York Women's Committee of the Negro Colleges Fund, who had
given much of her life to the advancement of educational opportunities
for blacks.
In 1966 Miss Clapp conferred with the presidents of the United Negro
Colleges Fund and concluded that a post-baccalaureate program would
be more beneficial. Waddell Fellowships were awarded to women gradu-
ating from member colleges of the United Negro Colleges Fund, who, as
undergraduate students, had prepared themselves for certification for
secondary school teaching, and who wished to add a year of advanced
study in specified fields to their background for a teaching career. By
1972, when there was a substantial undergraduate black population on
this campus, the Waddell Fellowships gave way to the Catherine Hughes
Waddell Program for study by Wellesley students at African and Carib-
bean universities.
As the number of black students on campus increased, so did their
sense of identity and of fellowship, from which arose the organization of
black students at Wellesley known as "Ethos." In May of 1968 members
of this group met with President Adams and, as had their counterparts
on other campuses, demanded that more black students be admitted.
Miss Adams agreed that every effort would be made to enroll up to
twenty-five additional qualified black students in the fall of 1968, but
despite a variety of summer recruiting efforts, only one additional black
student could be enrolled. It was simply too late in the year.
In the fall of that year, however, Wellesley students, both black and
non-black, participated in an intensive recruiting effort, supported by
alumnae recruiters and interviewers and a newly-hired black staff member
172 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
in the Admission Office. The Class of 1956 with the support of other
classes established and contributed generously to a Coretta Scott King
Fund to help meet the financial need of these students. Of the 104 black
students accepted, fifty-seven of them chose to become members of the
Class of 1973. Thirty-five of these students were considered "uniquely
qualified" applicants — that is, they were for social and economic reasons
disadvantaged educationally but had demonstrated evidence of talent,
strength of motivation or character, and potential for intellectual growth.
However capable and highly motivated these new candidates might
be, in most cases they had neither the customary preparation nor even
sometimes a common language of experience to share with their class-
mates. Therefore, at the same time, an Office of Educational and Com-
munity Services was established to help provide both educational assist-
ance and counseling help for those who found Wellesley to be more
of a challenge than they were immediately able to derive benefit from.
Of these thirty-five, twenty-one graduated with their class in June of
1973. One more graduated in October, and two more the following June.
Another is presently a member of the Class of 1975. Only four were
dropped by the College for academic reasons. Ten withdrew, two in
order to transfer to other institutions. Of those who completed the de-
gree requirements in four years, one was a Durant Scholar and elected
to Phi Beta Kappa. The others included a Wellesley College Scholar, a
freshman class Vice-President, seven Senate Representatives, a House
President, and other student leaders. More important perhaps is that, of
the thirty-five students chosen principally for their potential, three are
in medical school and eight others are doing graduate work in business
administration, in theology, in public health, and in comparable fields.
Wellesley, of course, was not unique in actively searching out minority
candidates in the late sixties. Partly in response to the assassination of
Martin Luther King, partly with the aid of increased Federal funding,
partly as the conscience of a nation was aroused, private colleges and
universities began to acknowledge an obligation to provide increased
educational opportunities for minority groups. Since the response came
not only at the college level but at the preparatory school level as well,
the number of minority candidates applying for admission to Wellesley
who met conventional admissions criteria gradually increased. Although
the College's special effort to reach candidates from different backgrounds
and the more inaccessible corners of America still continues, there is
now a reasonably large pool of black students who present credentials
comparable with those of the "traditional" Wellesley candidate. More
recently the search for other deserving minority candidates, including
Chicano, Puerto Rican, and American Indian, has been intensified.
Since 1968 with the inception of the Wellesley-MIT Exchange Pro-
students: in the beginning and now 173
gram, men have appeared on campus as students, although not as degree
candidates. The original purpose of the Exchange, "to extend the diver-
sity of educational experiences now available to the students in the cur-
ricula and in the environment of both institutions," has been eminently
fulfilled. Between two and three hundred students take courses each
semester at the other institution. The two institutions complement each
other in course offerings. Even where there is an overlap in fields of
instruction, their emphases differ. Thus, in art, Wellesley tends to stress
history and studio art; MIT offers courses in architecture, form, and de-
sign. Wellesley's Psychology Department emphasizes social psychology,
personality, and child development; MIT's, physiological psychology.
A group of male students took up residence in 1970 as Wellesley en-
tered into another cooperative program, the Twelve-College Exchange.
(This consortium includes Amherst, Bowdoin, Connecticut College, Dart-
mouth, Mount Holyoke, Smith, Trinity, Vassar, Wesleyan, Wheaton, and
Williams.) Designed to provide students with a variety of academic and
residential options, the Twelve-College Exchange is a residential pro-
gram in which a student can attend another college for a year or, in some
cases, a semester, thereby experiencing a different environment (such as
co-educational) or an academic department with an additional facility or
emphasis (such as the Kiewit computer at Dartmouth or the National
Theater Institute at Connecticut).
A still different kind of diversity which has enriched the college com-
munity since 1969-70 is the Continuing Education Program. Offering
qualified women the opportunity to elect courses on a part-time or full-
time basis, whether as candidates for the degree or simply to supplement
their educational experience, Continuing Education now includes over
one hundred students. The different perspective offered by these women,
ranging in age from twenty-two to sixty, enlivens the classroom and often
provides a realistic stimulus for the younger undergraduate.
The importance of diversity is, of course, not merely a matter of vary-
ing geographical or ethnic background, age or sex, or even the more
embracing category of socio-economic beckground. The diversity which
Wellesley seeks is the diversity of a group of people coming together who
can share different values and beliefs, and discover that there are issues
on which reasonable people can differ (reasonably). In this sense Welles-
ley has always sought diversity, but it is also important to recall that this
diversity has always presupposed a community of interest in the world
of the mind. From the beginning the search for diversity has presupposed
the search for excellence.
Over the years the number of qualified applicants for admission has
increased, in large part owing to the efforts of loyal alumnae, so that the
Admission Office finds itself faced with the need to be increasingly se-
174 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
lective. In 1950 it was able to offer admission to 66 percent of its appli-
cants; in 1960 to 33 percent. Among those entering in the fall of 1960
and for whom a rank in class was reported, 182 were among the top
four in their graduating class and 87 of these were valedictorians. By
the time the Class of 1969 entered, 221 out of a class of 524 (or 45%)
were among the top four of their graduating class, and 102 of these
(21%) were first in their graduating class. Over a quarter of the Class of
1977 were first in their graduating class, and more than half were in the
top four places.
Lest these figures suggest that academic excellence manifested by su-
perior secondary school performance has become the sole criterion, or
even the most important criterion, for admission, it should be empha-
sized that these figures demonstrate only the generally high quality of
the applicant pool. Admission to Wellesley today requires the same two
qualifications that were required for the Class of 1879: good health and
ability to meet the very high academic requirements. Beyond that, how-
ever, the Board of Admission seeks a variety of talents and qualifications;
it searches for motivation, intellectual curiosity (whether theoretical or
practical), character, creativity, evidence of concern for others, and also
unusual interests and abilities. And the success of its efforts is perhaps
attested by the fact that approximately 76% of the freshmen remain to
graduate — a percentage strikingly higher than the national figure.
II
Although in the first years of the College, organized extracurricular ac-
tivities might seem to have been almost precluded by the specified hours
for study, for exercise, for prayer, and for domestic work, it did not take
students very long to establish "traditional events," as Miss McCarthy
recounts in her chapter on the subject, and to form associations of vari-
ous kinds. In addition to three daily classes, students' schedules included
six hours for study, two twenty-minute quiet periods for meditation, a
chapel service, and an hour each for exercise and domestic work. The ten
o'clock "lights out" regulation provided for eight hours of sleep. Ap-
parently Mr. Durant also wished to encourage learning in a less formal
atmosphere than that of the classroom, and so in 1876 he founded two
literary societies, Zeta Alpha and Phi Sigma. Membership was limited
and coveted. In addition to their intellectual function, these first societies
clearly served as important centers of fellowship and fun. In 1881 both
Zeta Alpha and Phi Sigma were discontinued, the faculty having con-
cluded that they interfered too much with the academic work of the
members. They were reorganized eight years later, apparently at the
behest of President Shafer and upon the vote of the faculty.
students: in the beginning and now 175
The only society not to fall under the ban of 1881 was Shakespeare,
which had been founded in April 1877 as a branch of the Shakespeare
Society of London. From its beginning, Shakespeare provided a vital
outlet for the dramatic impulse, for this was an era when Wellesley
students were forbidden to attend the theatre during the college year.
Although amateur theatricals were in general looked upon with disfavor
by the early administration, dramatic representation of selected scenes
from Shakespeare's plays was allowed at the Society's monthly meetings
on the premise that it was one of the best ways to study the poet's work.
From that point it was easy to conceive the idea of presenting an entire
play once a year for an outside audience. The first, in 1889, was As You
Like It. Thereafter performances of Shakespearean plays were given
outdoors at Commencement every year until 1912.
In 1889, a charter was issued to the Art Society of Wellesley College
in order "to give opportunity for additional study of art, to offer a
stimulus to scholarly work and to promote good fellowship among the
undergraduates." Five years later the members of the Art Society assumed
the Greek name Tau Zeta Epsilon. In 1900 TZE presented to a college
audience its first studio performance of the living representations of classic
paintings for which the Society was to become justly famous.
The active interest of Professor Katharine Coman in social and po-
litical questions led to the organization of Agora in 1891 for those inter-
ested in the study of politics. Alpha Kappa Chi, founded in 1892 as the
Classical Society, adopted its Greek letter name in 1897. It too combined
an academic interest with the sense of fellowship which all the Societies
provided.
Since membership in all of the Societies was limited, they became the
focus of continuing controversy, for the egalitarian element in the Welles-
ley student body opposed the idea of any form of exclusion. Throughout
the thirties and forties there was a growing feeling that Societies were
too "exclusive." At that time juniors and seniors were elected after a
series of formal teas which any junior or senior might attend. As mem-
bership fees became increasingly expensive, they appeared to discriminate
against the less wealthy. In response to this criticism, in 1950 the Inter-
society Council introduced a policy of admission to one of the Societies
for any senior who wanted to join, but the student had to agree to accept
an assignment which was not necessarily her first choice. The Societies
still had a nominal academic purpose and an occasional program meeting,
but their basic purpose was now avowedly social. In the next two decades
interest waned — in part as it became easier to attend functions off the
campus, and in part as the Well, the Recreation Building, and finally
Schneider College Center came into existence and provided places to
entertain informally. By the early seventies, three of the Societies had
176 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
voted themselves out of existence: AKX, renamed Harambee (meaning
"working together" in Swahili) House, had become a cultural center for
black students; Phi Sigma was serving as the headquarters for Continuing
Education students and the Counseling Center; and Agora had been
converted into the Slater International Center.
Another early organization, the first of the departmental clubs, was
the Microscopical Society. Established in 1876, its purpose was the "Pur-
suance of Scientific Research by the Aid of the Microscope." At early
meetings papers were presented on lenses, their preparation, limitations,
and defects. Each active member was required to spend one hour per
week in "research." In 1879 the members added to their equipment a
new section cutter, a case of forty slides, and twelve Zeiss dissecting micro-
scopes. Papers were read on various subjects, such as "Importance of a
Course in Microscopy as a Regular Study in Our Schools and Colleges
for Females." The Society disbanded in December 1891 because the
members decided that the time for original work was too limited, and
the work that could be done was necessarily too much a repetition of
classroom experience.
The first organization to embrace all members of the community was
the Christian Association, which combined a number of smaller organiza-
tions upon the recommendation of President Freeman. The history of
this Association is treated in some detail in Miss Hawk's chapter, but it
deserves mention here as the earliest all-college organization.
The origin of student government can be traced back to the second
year of the College. When a student cheated on an examination, other
students responded by enacting their first regulation: it expressly for-
bade the use of "a translation, or key in the study of any lesson or in any
review, recitation or examination." Signed by the presidents of the classes
of 1879 and 1880, this rule became effective on February 18, 1876. Lit-
erally imposed by the students upon themselves, it recognizes the most
universally accepted principle of behavior in an academic community,
the stricture against academic dishonesty.
In 1887 a formal conference between representatives of faculty and
students took place in order to consider questions of class organization, an
incipient form of student government. The next year, 1888, students
first received permission to justify absences from scheduled appointments
by having "a true, valid and signed excuse." In 1890 the idea of personal
responsibility was extended when the Students League was organized to
take over the task of maintaining order in college buildings. An article
in favor of student government written by a member of the Philosophy
Department appeared in The Wellesley Magazine of November 1892,
and two issues later a student wrote a concurring article. But it was not
until March 6, 1901, that students voted at a mass meeting to petition
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 177
the Academic Council for self-government in all matters not academic in
nature. Thereafter events followed in swift succession: in April 1901,
a student-faculty committee conferred, the faculty committee being
headed by Miss Pendleton, then Secretary of the College and an ally of
the student cause; in May the constitution was submitted to the Execu-
tive Committee of the Board of Trustees and an election conducted for a
president; on June 6, 1901, the agreement was signed by the President and
Secretary of the Board of Trustees and by the President of the College.
On the following day, June 7, 1901, the Student Government Association
was officially and ceremoniously established at a joint meeting of the
faculty and the student body in the Chapel. The agreement was read
aloud and then signed, first by the Secretary of the College and then by
Frances L. Hughes, first President of the Association, May Mathews,
President of the Class of 1902, Margaret C. Mills, President of the Class
of 1901, and Mary Leavens, President of the House Council of College
Hall. As the College News in its first issue of the 1901 college year jubi-
lantly reported: "So the executive branch of the government is seen to
be simply constructed and effectively assembled, while the Association
finds its judicial seat in the breast of every girl at Wellesley."
The advent of student government was not a succession of grimly-
fought battles for student power. On the contrary, the right of students
to govern their affairs seemed self-evident to both faculty and adminis-
tration. Then, as is often true now, a president of the College or a mem-
ber of the faculty appears as the staunchest advocate for the participation
of students in the management of most college matters not strictly cur-
ricular in nature. Therefore, the reorganization in 1917-18 of the Stu-
dent Government Association, in which direct representation was sup-
planted by a representative form of government in which students, fac-
ulty, and administration participated in one joint body, seems appropriate
and reflective of the way in which the system actually worked.
In 1922 the student body became dissatisfied with the provision in the
constitution which lodged both the judicial and the executive functions
in the Senate. A separate Judiciary was created. (The chairman of the
Judiciary was, and still is, a student, and the position of Chief Justice
ranks second only to that of President of College Government in author-
ity and prestige.) This was the only important structural change in a
system of self-government which lasted until 1971.
The rights and powers which were entrusted to the College Govern-
ment Association included the regulation of "all matters not strictly
academic concerning the conduct of students in their college life, ex-
cepting those pertaining to public health and safety of the students and
the management of college property in buildings." Included within Sen-
ate's original domain were such matters as registration, absence from col-
178 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
lege, regulation of travel, permission for Sunday callers, rules governing
chaperonage, and the general conduct of students on the campus and in
the village.
A greater departure from the situation existing during the opening
years of the College, when almost every aspect of student conduct was
strictly regulated by the administration, could hardly be imagined. Two
recollections of this earlier period illustrate the degree to which student
life was circumscribed by rigid regulations. An alumna of the Class of
1880, Harriet Blake Pingree, recalled: "Students living near were allowed
one day at home during a term. We could not receive young men callers.
Our only nocturnal outing in my four years was permission to leave the
college [i.e. College Hall] at 7:00 p.m., two by two, escorted by teachers, to
march across the campus to the conservatory, in and past the night-bloom-
ing cereus, then in blossom, and back to the college." Another alumna
has recalled: "On Friday morning students were permitted to write
queries on manners and conduct, which were answered by Miss Howard,
a la Mrs. Post, at morning chapel. I recall only two questions, though
this broadcast was always anticipated with interest! 'Is it proper to eat
cheese with a knife?' This question was laid aside without comment. 'Is
it au fait to wear a gymnasium suit all day?' Answer: 'If one wore a
gymnasium suit all the time, it would be necessary to have more than
one.' "
Accordingly, once the students had been given the authority, they
turned their attention to the gradual liberalization of the various restric-
tions. One of the first to go was "ten o'clock lights-out." By 1907 students
were proposing a relaxation of the Sunday prohibitions against boating,
pleasure-driving, traveling in "either railroad or electric cars," and re-
ceiving guests. In 1914 undergraduates were permitted to entertain their
fathers (but no other men) on Sunday, and then, in a succession of small
steps, the rigorous Sunday regulations and those concerning absence from
the College were relaxed.
The big issues in the 1920s and 1930s were the system of chaperonage,
smoking (where and when), late permissions, and the use of the Society
Houses. The fight for new freedoms became the self-imposed responsi-
bility of each new generation of students, as was vividly recalled by Mar-
garet Clapp '30 in an oral interview concerning her days as College Gov-
ernment president: "We wanted more liberal rules. Anybody worth their
salt wants that. We wanted more places to smoke. Virginia Onderdonk
was president the year before me, and they had won the great battle to be
allowed to smoke inside the College in certain places, and we wanted
extensions. I remember calling on Miss Pendleton about that, and she
had tears in her eyes. I was shocked, because she was the great figure
above, the Buddha whose expression never changed. And she said, 'You
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 179
girls are never satisfied.' Of course we weren't thinking about anything
except that it was almost our obligation to try to get a little bit more."
The first warning of strain upon the system which had prevailed since
1918 came in 1964 in Miss Clapp's President Report: "Responsible stu-
dents, who constitute the large majority, are groping for a new formula
or revised pattern of residential life which will offer more gradations
of personal independence across the four years, without undercutting
either the encouragement to serious academic work and the concept of
personal and community moral responsibility which have marked Welles-
ley or the institution's obligation to provide a frame of reference."
The restless students of the late sixties, accustomed to considerable
freedom in their homes and personal responsibility in their secondary
schools, would not be confined by what they perceived to be an outmoded
constitution. In the fall of 1969 the question of unrestricted visiting
hours in the students' rooms was brought up in Senate. The parietal
discussions, seemingly endless to those who participated, became the
focus for the much larger issue of a student's right to have complete
autonomy in her social activities. Soon thereafter Senate voted uniform
twenty-four hour parietal privileges for all students except freshmen.
Those who did not wish this privilege (and responsibility) had the option
of living on separate corridors. This was the beginning of a profound
alteration to the Faculty-Student Agreement of 1918.
In an amendment dated October 15, 1970, the Preamble to the Agree-
ment between the Faculty and Students of Wellesley College concerning
the Wellesley College Government Association and defining its somewhat
limited powers was deleted in its entirety; the paragraph substituted for
it provided that "the Association shall be entitled to legislate in the areas
of residential and dormitory life." Although the President of the College
continued to have the responsibility for "the public health and safety
of students in situations of emergency, crisis, or neglect," College Govern-
ment now assumed the entire responsibility for regulations pertaining to
community life which were not academic in nature. Even more of a break
with the past was the decision of Senate that its members from the faculty
and administration would be non-voting, so that the only power left to
officers of the College was that of persuasion. In actual practice, this
change has not made much difference. Lucy Wilson, Dean of Students
from 1939 to 1954, recalls that in her experience over the years, there
was never a sharp, clearcut vote with the faculty and administration on
one side and the students on the other. Readers of the current student
handbook will soon discover that there are very few rules and regulations
other than Federal and State laws and some very basic health and safety
restrictions. By and large, again, this has meant very little difference in
the actual behavior of students: common sense, respect for the rights of
l8o WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
others, and reason usually prevail.
Student life, of course, never has been entirely devoted to serious pur-
poses. A survey of use of time made in 1944 suggests that the average
student at Wellesley achieved a very reasonable distribution of her week,
with an average of 46.4 hours spent on academic work, 22.4 on relaxa-
tion, 6.5 on exercise, and 6 on the so-called "extra-curricular activities"
(plus war work). Next to academic work, then, relaxation in its many and
various forms consumed the most time, and indeed many organized extra-
curricular activities had originated as nothing more than the urge for
fun. The first president of Barnswallows (the college dramatic associa-
tion), Mary E. Haskell '97, frankly allowed: "We began sheerly for lack
of jollity and social chance in general non-society student life, — restricted
to annual class histories, the Christian Association reception, Float, Tree
Day and the Monday concerts and lectures. The Shakespeare Society
play was the only one yet a custom, Commencement entertainment was
thin and gray, — the Society parties were limited affairs. . . . We adjured
the Trustees by Joy and Democracy to bless our charter, to be gay once
a week, and when they gave the Olympic nod we begged for the Barn to
be gay in — and they gave that, too. It was a grim joy-parlor: rough old
floor, posts bristly with splinters, few windows, no plank walk, no stage,
no partitions, no lighting. We hung tin-reflectored lanterns on a few of
the posts — thicker near the stage end — and opened the season with an
impromptu opera of the Brontes." The "entertainments" given in the
Barn soon became polished productions complete with wardrobes and
make-up. In 1921 the students decided to reorganize Barnswallows into an
exclusively dramatic organization for which try-outs would be competi-
tive. For a good many years all roles were played by women (and the
Boston reviews of Beau Brummel, given by the Class of 1915 in order to
raise money after the Great Fire, were extremely enthusiastic about the
skill of the female players in depicting male roles). But in 1928, with
the production of Arms and the Man, men for the first time appeared
in the production: they were Amherst students imported for the occa-
sion. Their appearance, however, did not establish a precedent, and
Wellesley students continued to play the male roles much of the time
until the 1940s.
The recent history of Barnswallows has witnessed its change to the
Wellesley College Theatre with productions professionally directed and
designed, the director since 1955 being Paul Barstow. The plays and
policy, however, are determined by students. Experimental Theatre
since the mid-1950s has also presented productions — often one-act plays,
sometimes written by students — which are directed and designed by its
members. Usually the Wellesley College Theatre performances are in
Alumnae Hall and those of Experimental Theatre in Jewett Auditorium,
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW l8l
but it was the Wellesley College Theatre which in 1959 inaugurated the
use of the Jewett Arts Center for dramatic performances with All's Well
That Ends Well. The repertoire of the Wellesley College Theatre has
included a wide variety of plays, among them A Midsummer Night's
Dream (a frequent visitor to the Wellesley stage), The Way of the World
(1968), The Rivals (1972), Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1967), and
Marat/Sade (1968). Actors now come to Wellesley from many neighbor-
ing colleges, and M.I.T. and the exchange programs have provided some
in residence — a great convenience for rehearsals.
Another form of relaxation, music, has always played an important
role in college life. The Beethoven Society, organized in 1876 and trans-
formed in 1897 into the Choral Society, was the first of the singing groups
(although when the talent was available it also included a string quartet).
The Choral Society was reorganized under the impetus of President Haz-
ard in 1900 as the Wellesley College Choir, an organization which con-
tinues to this day. Miss Hazard took a special interest in the Choir, and
its very first processional took place in September 1900 when the students,
garbed in choir robes, marched through the rooms of the President's suite
in Norumbega while she played "Jerusalem the Golden." Her choice of
choirmaster, Professor Hamilton C. Macdougall, was clearly a superb
appointment: he had been at the College just ten days when he had the
first choir ready for a Sunday service, and soon thereafter he and Miss
Hazard instituted the custom of fortnightly vesper services with special
music (often composed by him). In more recent years Choir, since 1952
under the direction of William A. Herrmann, has often combined with
choral groups from various colleges for men, and although there are no
longer fortnightly vesper services, there is still the traditional Christmas
Vespers. College musicians and professional soloists combine to present
biennially a distinguished Dober Memorial Concert in the Chapel, and
occasionally the Music Department has held Reindel Concerts in the
Jewett Auditorium, often featuring compositions by Hubert Lamb and
other members of the faculty. From time to time collaboration between
music and theatre has resulted in notable performances. For example, the
American premiere of Gluck's opera Alceste was given in 1938, Dido and
Aeneas in 1972, and the twelfth century liturgical drama Miracles of St.
Nicholas in 1974.
Orchestra, which had been founded in 1904, in the late 1930s and early
1940s under the direction of Malcolm H. Holmes performed many full-
length concert pieces and some previously-unfamiliar music which he
had photographed from original manuscripts in Europe. In 1958-59 the
Wellesley College Orchestra was succeeded by the Chamber Music So-
ciety, which has presented concerts not only in Jewett but also in dormi-
tories on Sunday afternoons. March 21, 1971, marked the formation of
l82 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
the Collegium Musicum Wellesliensis, a group of faculty and students
who perform early music on such instruments as lutes, harpsichords, re-
corders, and viole da gamba. Two specialized singing groups also enable
students to participate in the musical arts: the Wellesley College Madrigal
Group, composed of sixteen proficient student musicians who cultivate the
art of unaccompanied singing, and the Ethos Choir, established relatively
recently, which performs frequently on and off the campus. More infor-
mal music has been provided over the years by groups which have had
particular appeal for their generations. The Glee Club and the Banjo
Club were formed in 1889, and the Mandolin Club came into existence
about the same time; their modern (though very different) counterparts
perhaps are "Octets" — which usually have from twelve to twenty mem-
bers, never eight — such as the Tupelos and Wellesley Widows.
Literary interests have shown perhaps the greatest diversity in form
and appearance. Journalism has had the most stable history, commencing
with a section devoted to items of college interest in the local newspa-
per, The Courant, from 1881 to 1889. In 1889 the students produced their
own publication, The Prelude, succeeded by the Wellesley Magazine in
1892, a monthly, later an alumnae publication. The College News
launched nearly ten years later has continued as a journalistic commen-
tary on college life and on the world outside, frequently assuming the
role of the crusading reformer as well as the righteous teacher. In an
editorial on January 30, 1902, the first year that News was published, the
editor berated herself and her fellow students in the monitory tone
which was to become part of its prevailing style. "We are a rather sorry
lot when mid-years are in progress. The freshmen cannot be blamed for
meeting their mid-years with a goodly amount of fear and dread. But,
for the upperclassmen, there is no excuse. By them, the good example
should be set, of encountering the examinations with peace and calm of
mind. Women can never hope to be truly scholarly until they learn to
do their work with less subjection to their nerves." Through its editorial
pages the News has campaigned for student rights, usually in more out-
spoken style than the somewhat deliberate student Senate. Other topics
which have appeared frequently in its editorial pages are the Honor
System, student apathy (or "lethargy" as it was referred to in the twen-
ties), athletics at Wellesley (whether too much or too little), and a recent
favorite, feminism. An editorial of 1902 mentioned campus reaction to a
speech by President Eliot of Harvard in which he extolled the life of
service as the best possible and the most rewarding. The editor declared:
"The indignation at the speaker for his supposed conclusion, that the
only place for woman was her own kitchen, was immediate and wide-
spread. . . . Why is it that the very words 'Woman's Sphere,' are to the
American college girl as a red flag to a bull? Are we ashamed of being
students: in the beginning and now 183
women? Are we trying to cast off the heritage of womanhood and become
as men? Indeed, no. . . . We believe honestly in the equal education of
men and women. Then let us use all our strength to prove that we are
right, and waste none in childish resentment at the criticism which must
come." Her counterpart seventy years later "is convinced that until
women are fully accepted as equals to men — not by law, but by custom —
and until women receive the same job opportunities, wages and prestige
as men, there is a vital role for women's colleges. . . . The women of
Wellesley must take a stand." An unofficial publication of the College,
News has enjoyed the unique position of being responsible to no one
but its own editorial board, and hence its pages do not necessarily reflect
the opinion of the majority of students, but they do provide a chronicle
of the topical issues.
Another group which provides news and entertainment to the campus
is radio station WBS. The first independent station in a women's college,
it began broadcasting in 1942. Students prepare their own scripts and
direct and produce their own shows.
Literary magazines have had less staying power. The Literary Review,
Boar, Counterpoint, We (in the forties and then again in the seventies),
and Freshman Focus are but a few of the periodicals in which many a
future illustrious writer has first seen publication. The quality of these
publications has often been very high, and the variety of articles, stories,
poems, and essays appearing in them manifests in yet another way the
diverse points of view represented by the undergraduates.
The first Legenda, published by the Class of '89, was more a record of
the College as a whole than the class book which it became later on. In
addition to pictures, there was a remarkable collection of lists: the trus-
tees, the faculty, students, and a complete roster of the alumnae. Even
the college library was described in every detail, including the exact
number of volumes and a complete list of the periodicals to which the
College subscribed. Each college class thereafter tried to produce a
unique and worthwhile publication, and some in their effort to be
original produced valuable historical records. The Class of 1894, for
example, included a section on the Founders of the College and pre-
served information about Mrs. Durant not readily available elsewhere;
the Class of 1906 attempted to reconstruct the history of the College and
of student life, again providing a chronicle of the early years; the Class
of 1896 chose to make their volume a literary number, and was so success-
ful that it went into second and third editions! After the Second World
War, pictures began to occupy more space than the printed text. Several
of the Legendas published in the last dozen or so years have omitted
almost entirely the printed word and have virtually become photo-
graphic essays.
184 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
For more active recreation, students have always seemed to enjoy the
pursuit of a variety of athletic activities beyond the required Physical
Education program. In the early years crew, or rowing as it was then
known, was the most popular sport, closely followed by golf and bas-
ketball. At first participation in crew was largely a "social event. . . .
Since they rowed only until they were tired, various members of the
crew might be seen resting languidly on their oars while the others
stroked on courageously," according to an article which appeared in
1895 in Ladies' Every Saturday. Initially crew members were selected
as much for their singing as their rowing ability, but by 1893 President
Shafer was able to report that "crews are no longer selected because of
their vocal talent, but because of their general physical fitness. . . . The
emulation is the healthy [sic], since it is not for speed, but for skill and
grace. Racing is not allowed, hence there is no temptation to overstrain."
Ladies' Every Saturday noted two years later that "The sport has now
become so popular at the college that the crew begin training on rowing
machines in February each year; and in April, as soon as the water is free
from ice, the oarswomen may be seen upon the lake. There are now six
eight-oared shells in use." Today's crews are equally enthusiastic, dis-
playing their zeal on many an early spring morning with mittened
hands and sleep-heavy eyes.
In 1896 an Athletic Association was formed which combined into one
organization clubs for practice in the various sports. According to an
article in the April 1897 issue of The American Athlete, "Its object . . .
[was] to assist the students in their intellectual life by offering them
natural, healthful recreation." Much of this interest can be attributed to
the dynamic leadership of Lucille Eaton Hill, Director of Physical Train-
ing, who tried to instill in every Wellesley student a sense of the inti-
mate relationship between good health and the good life; as one alumna
put it, few of us "have ever worn unnatural shoes, gone deliberately
without sleep, or grown round-shouldered, without a guilty sense of hav-
ing fallen below Miss Hill's standard of intelligent living."
Since the days when Mr. Durant imported tennis equipment from
England because it was not available in the United States, Wellesley has
always had unusual facilities for sports. And of course most important of
all has been the campus itself, with Lake Waban and with hills whose
contours have permitted the construction recently of a practice ski run
and tow. Even without elaborate facilities, the sheer variety of recrea-
tional sports has always been impressive. The first students played games
such as "Fox and Geese," "London Bridge Is Falling Down," and "The
Last Couple Out," in addition to rowing, tennis, golf, cross-country walk-
ing, and running. Soon after the turn of the century twenty-two sports
were offered; today's student has the choice of more than thirty activities
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 185
including, along with the more traditional sports, ballet, scuba-diving,
yoga, backpacking, and trampoline. Although for many years Wellesley
eschewed competitive intercollegiate athletics, students can now compete
in as many as twelve different sports on an intercollegiate basis. And
even though walking around the lake is as active as many choose to be,
one Wellesley student was among the entrants in the 1974 Boston mara-
thon!
One of the most unusual activities was the Wellesley College Verse
Speaking Choir, founded by Cecile de Banke in March 1933. At first
solely an extracurricular activity, three years later it was also the basis
for a course in the Speech Department. Trained by Miss de Banke in the
art of choral speaking, the students recited poetry selections from an ex-
tensive repertoire. The novelty and skill of their presentations extended
their reputation beyond the campus, and in 1935 they were invited by
the English Verse-Speaking Association, of which John Masefield was
president, to give a recital at Oxford. Being unable to go to England, the
Choir gave a round-the-world short-wave radio broadcast instead, the
first of its kind. In the forties the group produced a series of spoken
poetry festivals, combining their talents with those of many distinguished
poets, including May Sarton, William Rose Benet, David McCord, and
Archibald MacLeish. The choir was finally disbanded in June 1948, after
a long history of public appearances, radio broadcasts, and educational
demonstrations.
Not all of the many extracurricular activities which, at one time or
another, have commanded the interest and energies of Wellesley stu-
dents can be included here. Some, like the Bird Club established in
1917, in which Isabel Bassett, the president, won the annual competition
by sighting sixty-eight birds, were short-lived. Others, like the various
departmental clubs, have had long lives, but with undulating member-
ship curves. While the conception of what constitutes a good time has
undergone considerable transformation, there has always been a strong
demand for unorganized social life, for recreation that serves no other
purpose than having a good time. The first students, for whom transpor-
tation was limited and college regulations seemingly unlimited, were
largely thrown upon their own resources for amusements and convivi-
ality. In mild weather, picnics, excursions to various places of interest in
the vicinity, tennis and boating, walking parties and sketching clubs
were all popular. If Harvard students could be lured out to help gather
firewood for beach parties, so much the better. In the winter ice-skating,
ice-polo (or "shinny"), parlor games, dramatics, and candy pulls were
very much in favor. On Monday, the recreation day, no classes were
scheduled, so many students took the opportunity to go on daytime ex-
cursions to Boston for shopping. A magazine account of Wellesley life
l86 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
in November 1890 reports that "there have been maidens brave enough
to walk all the way to Boston, fifteen miles away; but that is a feat not
often performed, though few girls who enter Wellesley do not promise
themselves to accomplish it before they graduate"!
The perimeter of Wellesley social life soon extended beyond the con-
fines of the campus. The advent of the automobile and the gradual
relaxation of social regulations have created a much less self-contained
community, although along with the relative ease of transportation to
other campuses has also come an increasing interest in social activities on
campus. Alumnae who remember primarily the big off-campus weekends,
such as the Dartmouth Winter Carnival, Yale boat races, Princeton house
parties, and comparable events at Wellesley such as class proms, might be
surprised by the number of men now attracted to the campus by the
variety of events offered throughout the year. Major cultural presenta-
tions in Alumnae Hall, the Jewett Arts Center, and the Chapel which are
made possible by the Treves Fund, the Baum Fund, and the Mayling
Soong Foundation, lectures sponsored by the Wilson and Finnigan
Funds, and "traditional" events such as Spring Weekend attract a good
many dates. Movies and house dances and parties have helped to make
the campus increasingly a center for student social life. "Study-dates" in
the library are still popular, but since the construction of Schneider Cen-
ter, students and dates are likely to gravitate to the vicinity of the snack
bar. Providing lounge areas, entertainment, a menu which caters to col-
legiate tastes, and, most recently, beer and wine, Schneider has become
a social center for the entire college campus. Run by the Schneider Board
of Governors, composed of students, administration, and faculty mem-
bers, the building, imaginatively designed, provides an informal atmos-
phere for college activities ranging from speakers to rock concerts. It
also has a mini-store where many a hopeful diet has been undermined
by the immoderate purchase of penny candy! More important, it serves
as a gathering place where students can lunch with faculty, bring their
dates, watch TV, study, or enjoy informal entertainment in the coffee
house room.
The danger over the years seems not to have been a dearth of activities
but rather, as the Dean of the College as long ago as 1907 queried: "Can
the academic work compete successfully with the various non-academic
interests which claim the attention of the college student?" In one form
or another this question had been repeated over the years. Supported by a
grant from the Ford Foundation Fund for the Advancement of Educa-
tion, a study was undertaken with the assistance of the Elmer Roper
Organization in 1953 to evaluate student life outside the classroom.
Among other findings, the survey revealed that before they graduated
four out of five students actively participated in one or more organiza-
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 187
tions, and that more than half of the alumnae who responded felt that
students who did not participate in extracurricular activities "missed a
great deal." An interesting discovery was that the most adverse criticism
of individual organizations came from the most involved members. The
historical record substantiates the conclusion of the authors of the study:
a study of student life "gives an over-all impression of an alive, alert,
loyal body of students who, on the whole, are finding outlets for their
energies and interests."
Ill
There are many differences which immediately separate the Wellesley
student of today from her counterpart of one hundred years ago. Neces-
sarily the changes in the society at large are manifested in both the indi-
vidual and the institution. But, in the long view, continuity is more
striking than change. The period in the late sixties when students were
clamoring for change does not, in perspective, seem so very different from
an alumna's recollection of the days of Miss Howard in 1880: "No one
could have had a more difficult task than our first president . . . domi-
nated on the one hand by the masterful personality of the founder and
beset on the other by the hundreds of students, already clamoring, even
as now [this was written in 1924 by Edith S. Tufts, then Dean of Resi-
dence] for freedom of self-expression." There has always, in short, been
a little bit of the reformer in Wellesley students. But, after all, reform
was one of the moving ideals of the founder. "All of our plans are in out-
spoken opposition to the systems and the prejudices of the public. There-
fore, we expect everyone of you to be, in the noblest sense, reformers,"
spoke Mr. Durant in College Hall Chapel the year the College opened.
There have indeed been periods when students were bent on internal
reform, and other times when their zeal was directed towards vast social
reformation. But these periods have been sporadic and hardly character-
istic of the student body as a whole. Normally it is the academic side of
college life which provides the focus. In very recent years this has been
especially true; students have shown a pronounced absorption with their
studies and a renewed sense of commitment to them.
Some of the incentive for this recent enthusiasm may be attributed to
innovations in the academic requirements of the College. Students have
often contributed to curricular changes, most recently in 1970, when a
group of interested juniors and seniors wrote the "Walrus Report." This
document discussed such topics as the introduction of self-scheduled ex-
aminations (soon thereafter instituted by vote of the Academic Council),
more flexible course loads, interdepartmental courses, and a credit/non-
credit grading system as an alternative to the pass/not-pass system al-
ready in existence. Many of these topics were already under discussion
l88 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
by faculty members; others soon found their way to the agendas of ap-
propriate committees. All of the suggestions eventually became imple-
mented, although one of them, the credit/non-credit grading system, was
actually a revival of a system used from the beginning of the College
until 1905 (when, as Miss Onderdonk points out in her chapter, students
could, for the first time, know their grades). The system of letter grades
was retained until 1967, when a very intensive study of grades and grad-
ing systems was undertaken by a committee of the Academic Council.
As a result of that study, the faculty voted to institute a pass /not-pass
system of grading as a possible alternative to letter grades. This alterna-
tive allowed the student to receive a "pass" for work considered to be
the equivalent of the letter grades A through D; "not-pass" meant that
the student did not receive credit for the course, a fact which appeared
on her transcript, although when her grade-point average was computed,
only letter grades were counted. This system was in part designed to
encourage the student to be more experimental in her choice of courses
by removing the stigma of a poor grade in an untested area of study.
For some students, the system was eminently successful and enabled
them to perform at their highest level, free from concern over grades.
Others were quick to admit that they needed the stimulus of grades to
encourage their best effort. Still others admitted that, despite their best
intentions, they tended to neglect their pass /not-pass courses for the sake
of their graded courses, and hence were not using the system in the way
intended. Faculty members also exhibited a wide range of feeling in
their evaluation of this option. Almost all, however, were concerned
about the fact that a very minimum performance might receive a "pass."
Accordingly, in 1971-72 the Academic Council voted to replace the pass/
not-pass option with a credit /non-credit system. Credit is given only if the
student demonstrates satisfactory familiarity with the content of the
course and the ability to use this knowledge in a satisfactory manner (the
standard which also defines the grade of C). It is true that if a student
does not receive credit, the course is expunged from her record — a fact
which led one professor, in a memorable moment of the Academic Coun-
cil, to liken this system to the sundial which records only the sunny hours.
However, it does have the advantage of assuring that to obtain credit for
a course, a student must have at least a C in it. Students who prefer
grades can eschew credit/non-credit (and in increasing numbers they
are doing so); those who are thinking of graduate and professional
schools are urged to use it with caution, or even better, not at all; and
those who work best free from the competitive and evaluative shadow
of grades can elect the system in its entirety, knowing that it is essen-
tially the same as the one which served Wellesley's first (and some of its
most illustrious) graduates.
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 189
Another development in recent academic life is the increasing number
of students who, discovering that they can meet the requirements for a
major in two departments, choose a double major. Considerable latitude
in the choice of courses, along with the decision of the Academic Council
in 1967-68 to abandon the General Examination, have made this option
feasible, and in a world of shrinking job markets, attractive. Still another
option now available to students is the individual major. With the ap-
proval of two faculty members and the Committee on Curriculum and
Instruction, a student may design a major program which crosses tradi-
tional departmental lines.
Even more recently the academic life of the student has expanded to
include one more role, that of the teacher. In its most modest form, the
student teaches herself by an alternative method of learning, "The Keller
Plan," utilized by the Psychology Department since 1971-72 and more
recently by the Astronomy and Chemistry Departments. The Keller Plan
originated in 1964 when psychologist Fred Keller and his colleagues
instituted an individually-paced, mastery-oriented, and student-tutored
course at the University of Brasilia. Essentially the student works, with
the help of a reading list and a study guide, on a unit of material until
she feels she has mastered it; then she demonstrates her competence in
that unit on a short test administered by a student tutor. Although
tests are not graded and may be taken whenever the student feels pre-
pared (and retaken in the event that her first, second, or later perform-
ance is inadequate), she cannot move on to the next unit until she has
mastered the previous one. This plan, offered as an alternative method of
learning for a five-week period in the introductory Psychology course,
has been elected by a varying number, ranging from forty to nearly one
hundred percent of the students enrolled in the course each semester.
And over eighty-five percent of the students who participated said they
would do it again, given the opportunity.
Students may also participate in a variety of programs in which they
have the opportunity to teach other students. The Economics tutorials
initiated in 1959 by Professor Richard V. Clemence offer selected senior
majors in the department an opportunity to take part in a weekly tutors'
seminar in which they plan a program of research and independent study.
As part of this program, each senior tutor also meets twice a week with
a small group of freshmen who have elected the introductory Economics
courses. They follow the sequence of material taught in the course, but
also offer supplemental material. Faculty members do not attend these
sessions, which are in no sense remedial but rather provide an oppor-
tunity for freshmen to ask further questions and to explore some topics
in greater depth. The senior tutors soon discover that the very best
way to learn is to try to teach someone else.
190 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Two other tutorial programs have also been offered recently, both
open to all students, both avowedly remedial, and neither for academic
credit. In a tutoring program for students whose preparation has been
inadequate, advanced students, recommended by the various academic
departments, tutor students in introductory courses. Once a student has
been assigned a student as a tutee, she works out a careful plan with
the instructor of the course and meets her tutee one or two hours a
week. The tutor is paid for her assistance but does not receive academic
credit. For most tutors it is a very gratifying personal experience, and
many have either been attracted to a teaching career by their tutoring
job or have found a teaching position because of it. The second of these
tutoring programs is an experimental writing course first offered in the
spring of 1974. The student tutors are selected on the basis of samples
submitted to the instructor, who trains them in the techniques of teach-
ing writing skills. Then, in conjunction with him, these students tutor
other students in expository writing. Both the tutors and their pupils
learn through this program, and now that English Composition is no
longer required, it meets a real need.
Another recent innovation in academic life at Wellesley was the in-
troduction in 1969 of a leave of absence policy which has permitted a
student to take time off from the four-year sequence for a variety of
reasons: to attend another institution, to work, or simply to sit back
and take a look. Students who have taken leaves are almost without
exception enthusiastic — glad that they have experienced a different mode
of life or of learning and even more appreciative of Wellesley once they
have compared it with other institutions.
In our consideration of some of the factors which seem both to reflect
and augment the renewed interest in the academic life, we should not
omit a practical one. Part of the reason students are concentrating on
their studies is the desire to perform well in order to be accepted by the
best professional and graduate schools. There have been dramatic in-
creases in the numbers of students who enter college intending to pre-
pare for a medical career and of those who during their college years
evince interest in a career in law. In the fifties and before that time most
students took it for granted that they would marry although they might
also have a career; students in the seventies seem to take it for granted
that they will have a career (though this by no means precludes marriage;
sometimes, however, it precludes children).
One of the results of this career orientation has been the stimulation
of interest in field work and internship programs. The oldest of these,
the Washington Internship Program, began during the winter of
1942-43 when fuel shortages caused an enforced winter vacation for
Wellesley. At that time the participants were all political science majors,
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 191
but now the program takes place in the summer before the senior year
and is open to students in all departments. Fifteen members of the Class
of 1974, including an Art History major (who worked at the Corcoran
Gallery), a Philosophy major (working for the Children's Defense Fund
of the Washington Research Project), as well as History, Economics, and
Political Science majors, interned in Washington during the summer of
1973. Another program, an Urban Politics Summer Internship, was ini-
tiated in 1970, largely through the efforts of Thomas Atkins, a City
Councilman in Boston and then the instructor in a course in Urban
Politics at Wellesley. This program was redesigned in 1972 with the help
of Los Angeles alumnae. One group of interns now goes to Los Angeles
and is affiliated with the Coro Foundation, which conceives its program as
a "laboratory in urban affairs"; another group of seven participates in
the Boston Urban Internship Program, all in different capacities but all
concerned with urban area problems. In 1970-71 the East Boston-Welles-
ley College Cooperative Program (known as Eb-Well) was initiated as
another opportunity for students to combine service with study in an
urban situation. Although the program was discontinued in 1974, it pro-
vided one more opportunity for students to acquire pre-professional
training during their college years.
Along with an increasing interest in pre-professional training and
career plans, Wellesley students have become increasingly aware that
they are women in a world defined largely by men. They seek a redefi-
nition of their roles and their aspirations. For the most part, they are
sympathetic to the women's liberation movement and wish to participate
in and benefit from it.
But this is not the only message they are hearing. Unlike her male
counterpart who is nurtured by the conviction that to be a male in
American society means to achieve success, the young woman of today
hears conflicting signals. She is encouraged to achieve, and yet she is
urged to remain "feminine." If becoming a wife and mother is what
she aspires to, she may well feel she has betrayed her heritage. Whether
for this reason, or for others, students in the late sixties expressed a
strong desire for more counseling services in addition to academic coun-
seling. In response to this wish, existing services, such as Class Deans,
faculty advisers, and the Career Services Office, have been expanded, and
Wellesley also now has as specialized counselors a Clinical Psychologist, a
Human Relations Consultant, and three part-time psychiatrists. (Welles-
ley, incidentally, was the first of the women's colleges to have a psychia-
trist on the medical staff: Dr. Elizabeth L. Martin, who was appointed
consultant in Mental Hygiene in 1926.)
The variety of personal counselors is indicative of another trend
which has emerged comparatively recently. In almost all areas, students
192 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
have felt a stronger sense of individuality than of the community. Instead
of a community religious concept, for example, there is a denominational
approach to religion, equally vital but more private and individual; in
addition to the Chaplain, almost all of the traditional religious groups
now have their own part-time advisers. Speaking to this issue, Carolyn
Bartel Lyon '28 said in an oral history interview: "When I was in college,
the individual was willing to accept a sense of community experience in
terms of a group relationship so that, for example, when you went to
Chapel, you had counseling, but it was group counseling. You never
knew, when you went to Chapel, when somebody was going to say some-
thing that met your needs for that particular day." Today's student per-
ceives her problem as unique and individual, and counseling is struc-
tured much more in terms of immediate personal needs.
Another aspect of community life which has changed the attitudes of
students is their new involvement in the decision-making process of the
College. By vote of the Academic Council in 1969, students are included
as voting members of major college committees, including Admission
and Curriculum and Instruction, and they also serve on many of the
Trustee Committees. Although their contribution is often that of an-
other intelligent person, rather than representative of "the student point
of view," it is nonetheless valuable. As one student put it, "There is no
easily identified or quantified student opinion on many relevant issues,"
but there is student perspective and often a student can anticipate am-
biguities or problems not so immediately apparent to a faculty or ad-
ministrative member. Since they now have an active voice in policy-mak-
ing decisions of the College, students have taken a less active role in
many student organizations — unless they are fairly professional ones,
such as theatre, or are connected with academic departments, such as
the traditional Greek play and music concerts. Activities outside the class-
room tend to be either supportive of the academic life or perceived as
pre-professional training.
Although it is always difficult to date precisely a dramatic change in
the attitudes and basic assumptions of a college population, there would
probably be general agreement that these changes began to take place
in the mid-sixties. Although the restlessness of that period has given
way to a new sense of purpose, to a focus on the academic life and, for
many students, a desire to exemplify the ideals expressed in Wellesley's
renewed commitment to the education of women, certain bridges with
the past appear to have been broken. No longer is it self-evident to this
generation that experience and office possess a certain authority. Such au-
thority was recognized, for example, in the earlier period when a student
going to the office of her class dean always put on a skirt and tried to
STUDENTS: IN THE BEGINNING AND NOW 193
make herself "presentable," however casual her normal dress code might
be. Beginning in the late sixties students appeared in the dean's office
with bare feet, cut-off jeans, and an old shirt tied around the midriff.
Startling at first to those who knew an earlier generation, this seeming
lack of respect for office was in reality an inchoate attempt to express the
very sincere belief that appearance did not matter and that what was
truly important was the "inner man" (or woman). It made life more diffi-
cult for harried administrators because respect had to be earned — it
was not given. Students did respect competence, integrity, the ability to
listen and to hear; they respected intelligence and wit and imagination.
But they did not take it for granted that those in authority possessed
these attributes. And although almost always courteous, they pursued,
sometimes gently, sometimes more vigorously but always with relentless
energy, what they considered to be their rights. Students of this genera-
tion were nurtured by a society which had so grossly manipulated lan-
guage that the "free world" imperceptibly had grown to include some
of history's crudest dictatorships, and it was commonplace to describe
the struggle in Vietnam as a "bad war," thereby implying that normally
wars were good. This was a generation brought up by TV. Before they
could read they were enticed by television commercials deceptively pre-
senting a variety of playthings, and they soon learned that they had to
distinguish between the real article and its television blow-up. As they
grew older they were confronted by pictorial advertisements extolling
smoking while simultaneously proclaiming (in small print) "Cigarette
Smoking May Be Hazardous to Your Health." It is no wonder that they
became distrustful of words and images, and often demanded immediate
action as evidence of good faith. It is harder to estimate the impact of the
continuation of the war in Vietnam, which threatened the lives of their
male counterparts without promising a better or more just world for
their sacrifice, but it was clearly a factor. And the affluent society which
preached instant gratification in order to consume what appeared to be
an inexhaustible supply of superfluous goods also had its effect. Finally,
the assassinations of Martin Luther King and President Kennedy not only
revealed the undercurrent of violence in their society, but also incited
the Civil Rights movement to more active measures. The really extraor-
dinary aspect of the late sixties, which can only be seen in retrospect,
is how typically Wellesley solved its problems: by endless conversation,
by mutual respect, by consideration for the rights of others. To those
who were confronted with one "crisis" situation after another, it did not
appear to be an easy period. But there was no violence, no destructive-
ness, and the rights of the silent minority were never overlooked.
»94
WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
In each generation Wellesley students have exhibited a variety of char-
acteristics and attitudes. For this reason, and also because they are selected
in part for their diversity, any particular statement about them may not
correspond to an individual alumna's recollection of her own college
generation. There have always been — and there will always continue to
be — exceptions, but some generalizations hold true across the years. The
Wellesley student is remarkably earnest, and she is earnestly egalitarian.
She wants in some way to be of service to society. She takes her work,
herself, and her fun seriously, although not always in that order. Above
all, she is interested in her studies and works hard at them. She wants to
learn. And she is convinced that learning, together with her sense of
purpose and of social responsibility, provides "the beginning of a new
life."
The 1889 crew (left) and the 1888 crew posing before rowing; those classes also held
a tennis tournament, according to the notation on this old picture.
Golf, basketball, and the Bicycle Club about the turn of the century.
A student room in 1880
Lyman Abbott, the honorary member of the Class of 1877, and his wife sat with dig-
nity at the Junior Tree Day of the class while President Alice Freeman and Professor
Eben N. Horsford observed the ceremonies from a window in College Hall.
The editors of the 1892 Legenda, the yearbook.
The Banjo and Mandolin Club in 1892-1893.
A midyear spread in 1894. (Notice the cat
which preferred photography to a tidbit.)
The pioneers of WBS in 1942
Members of Barnswallows dueled realistically in an early
production of Monsieur Beaucaire.
Backstage in a Barn play,
from the 1935 Legenda.
Synchronized swimming in the Davenport
Pool in the Recreation Building.
A Senate meeting of College Government held in
CH II in the 1950s.
The Wellesley College Choir rehearsing in the Chapel in the 1940s. (An incidental fashion note:
saddle shoes prevailed, but a few avant garde loafers were in evidence.)
***** /■
Sailing on Lake Waban in the 1970s.
Choir, from the 1909 Legenda.
An exciting transformation: Billings
auditorium as it looks now in the
Schneider College Center.
ALL ABOARD
Tor) do-r^Vs Bar-Qe."
fa-re /cy T* R.R. St^tf©*)
From the 1898 Legenda.
The opening of the Slater International Center in
1971. Ellis D. Slater, the donor, is on the right.
The baccalaureate procession marching
through the great arch of Green Hall.
Elegance was the word for 1939's prom in Alumnae Hall.
Has this ever happened to you ?
From the 1923 Legenda.
(Left) Dean of Residence Mary Cross Ewing
entertaining students in the 1930s, President
Mildred McAfee in the 1940s.
(Below) President Margaret Clapp talking
with students after a dormitory dinner in
the 1950s.
President Barbara W. Newell greeting
freshmen in the 1970s.
From the 1909
Legenda.
Required Lecture
GRACE E. HAWK
A Motto in Transit
Wellesley College has been fortunate in having a motto as durable
as Non Ministrari sed Ministrare. Through changing times, it is true,
it has been variously appraised and implemented (occasionally, it must
be confessed, made a subject of jest, in versions ranging from the early
"not to be ministers but to be ministers' wives" to the "non minis-
trari sed intoxicari" of the 1961 Junior Show). Yet somehow it remains
the "honored tradition" that President Hazard called it in 1909. She
added, "Its wording is translated into contemporary language from
generation to generation," a remark that rings true almost seventy years
later. At the start it was built into the fabric of the College to remind
onlookers of Mr. Durant's admonition that they live "an earnest life of
Christian usefulness." It hung among Biblical texts on a wall of the
College Hall chapel. Engraved in the Houghton Memorial Chapel, in the
stone of a chancel arch not far from the Durant memorial windows which
represent "The Call to Service" and "The Life of Service," it still conveys
its message. It was adopted in 1882 as an essential feature of the college
seal. Sermons, speeches (especially at Commencements), college papers
from Courant through News, Legenda, reunion booklets, the Alumnae
Magazine — all have used it in some way.
An attempt to measure exactly the motto's impact on any one college
generation is sure to be futile, but enough alumnae remember and share
their own reactions, both during and after their undergraduate days, to
indicate the trend of their times. Some affirm an immediate and lasting
call to action and some deny that they reacted at all. The majority in
every decade until the late 1960s agree with a graduate of the 1950s:
"We were very conscious of the motto . . . wanting to do something
worthwhile with our great privileges but assigning action to the future.
We felt too young at the time, were concerned with preparing ourselves
for something often not definable, . . . and thought that intellectual
202
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 203
growth was a great end in itself." Even alumnae to whom the motto
meant little in their undergraduate days believe that "something of its
spirit must have filtered into" their later, serviceable lives. The late
1960s and the 1970s wanted "action now."
The First Twenty-Five Years
Mr. Durant's expectations for his young ladies, consonant with the
motto, called for Christian charity, practiced by each one with the zeal
of a "reformer in the noblest sense of the term." Two organizations were
established at once, a Temperance Society and a Missionary Society.
Charlotte Conant '84, an enthusiastic supporter of both prohibition and
evangelism, was at the same time the kind of student whom Dean Tufts
recalled as "already clamoring for self-expression." Her letters home
provided an outlet for her feelings about too-frequent missionary meet-
ings. "Hallowe'en," she wrote, "the girls were planning quite a time,
but Miss Howard kindly provided a missionary meeting instead." And
again, seething with indignation over a delay in granting a class consti-
tution, she closed her remarks with "If not granted, how provoking. No
Tree Day, no class, no Commencement, — nothing but grind and mission-
ary meetings." That her activities were in fact well balanced she makes
plain in her accounts of spirited debates and speeches, of pursuing topics
like the Unity of Races, to which she was introduced during a Lenten
service, of first steps toward student government, parties, and off-campus
social services. She especially enjoyed a Thanksgiving visit of one hun-
dred students to the Women's Reformatory in Sherborn, a three-year-old
"tradition" which was destined for a long life. "We carried over," she
said, "about 400 little bouquets, each with a printed text, and distributed
them to the prisoners." There was an entertainment: "Singing, Recita-
tions, and Piano Music." Everyone had a good time.
As the scope of undergraduate social concerns broadened, the titles of
their two organizations tended to be so misleading, not to say cramping,
that President Alice Freeman suggested their reconstruction as a single
body. Naming the resultant "umbrella" society was easy since, to quote
Louise McCoy North 79, the whole College was already, in fact, "a
Wellesley Christian Association." In 1884, a statement of principles, laws,
and regulations was ready for adoption, and the long career of a power-
ful all-college organization began.
Pledge cards issued to potential members (that is, everyone) of the
organization from 1884 to that "time of stress," World War I, stated:
"You do, in uniting with this Association, declare your belief in Jesus
Christ as your Lord and Savior and dedicate your life to his service. . . .
You will cultivate a Christian fellowship with its members, and, as op-
204 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
portunity is afforded, endeavor to lead others to a Christian life." But
on the reverse side of the card cherished by Anne Paton Goodman '18
there is reassurance: "This pledge was adopted in its present form with
the express understanding that its interpretation was to be left to the
individual thought and conscience. All who in their own judgment can
honestly subscribe to it have always been welcomed to membership in
the Association." A new statement issued during Mrs. Goodman's term
as president of the organization softened the wording to read: "to deepen
one's own spiritual life, in cooperation with all Christian workers within
and without the College; to stimulate the Christ-like life; and to express
this life in His service."
Membership in the Christian Association was from the first nonde-
nominational. The Reverend Dr. Noah Porter, President of the Board
of Trustees and of Yale University, in his address at the cornerstone lay-
ing of Stone Hall placed sectarianism high on his roster of the "foes of
Christianity." The Durants and the majority of the undergraduates were
of the same mind. In 1905, when the organization was invited to join
the national YWCA, it declined because acceptance would have meant
cutting down the Wellesley membership to Evangelical sects; and when,
in 1913, Wellesley did join the national association, finding it by that
time more liberal, "she retained her own pledge and her own constitu-
tion."
Every area of the College's social concern was benefited by the reorga-
nization of 1884. The campaign for temperance was carried on, partly
by the bringing to the campus of such well-known lecturers as Frances
Willard and so enlisting student workers. A Missionary Committee pro-
vided speakers for numerous meetings, founded a Student Volunteer
Band, contributed to the support of a missionary in India, and gave some
backing to a city mission in New York. Out of contributions of $1400
for "the missionary cause" in 1887-88, all but $150 was spent for the
"spread of the gospel in all lands."
"Promotion of religious life in the college" was reached through the
selection and entertainment of Sunday preachers (President Freeman
conducted the weekday services); the sending of delegates to the annual
Christian Association conference at Silver Bay on Lake George, New
York; and entering into those "other branches" of service in which the
goal of "the arousing of intelligent interest in social reform" was an
inseparable partner. Mr. Durant's words, "The cause of God's poor is
the sublime gospel of American freedom," reinforced the college motto.
The President's Report for 1887-88 listed among "services undertaken
by the General Work Committee": "the Saturday evening club of the fac-
tory girls of South Natick, and the Sabbath-School in Charles River
Village," then a factory town. Soon another club was organized consist-
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 205
ing of South Natick women who were workers in a shoe factory on Love-
well Road, now Cottage Street, and who boarded in an adjoining house.
Later, when the factory moved away, the house became a freshman resi-
dence, Eliot House, and in the summer vacations students managed it as
a resort "for hundreds of working girls." In 1891-92 a new project was
inaugurated for women workers, this time workers on campus. "The
Protestant girls employed in different houses," President Shafer reported,
"have been taught systematically each week, and Sunday evening sings
and King's Daughters meetings have been held with them. To reach
those of another faith is more difficult, but we shall find ways." (This
proselytizing bent was deplored by Vida Dutton Scudder of the English
Department and other liberals.) A room had been "comfortably furnished
in College Hall," its everyday name "the maids' parlor," its site, beneath
the gymnasium, its capacity, "space for more than thirty women serv-
ants." The students had "arranged several social evenings in which they
should learn harmless games and music." A library was started and a sew-
ing machine donated for the maids' use.
While Wellesley students in 1892 were devoting most of their char-
itable funds and efforts to the local community and, of course, to foreign
missions, their social concerns had broadened, so that recipients of the
$1700 collected that year included a North Carolina school for mountain
white girls, a French Catholic school in Springfield, Hampton Normal
School and Tuskegee Institute for Negroes. Chapel furnishings were
supplied for a hospital that cared for epileptic children, and boxes were
prepared for the victims of calamities in the Dakotas. Clothing was sent
to Indian children in an Oregon school, and money helped to provide
homes for Alaskan Indians.
According to the President's Report, interest in the Indian question
had been "deepened by a report of 20 years' work among this people
and by the stirring appeals of the Indian Rights' Association." The
Progressive Era, sensitive to oppression of all kinds, had begun. Campus
discussions and alumnae meetings tended to center on topics like settle-
ments, "great American cities," sharecroppers, immigration, child labor,
sweated labor, women's suffrage. An Ivory Tower syndrome, experienced
at its mildest as discomfort, at its worst as self-blame, was spreading.
Tender consciences that had not to any great extent felt the impact of
the motto as it applied to religion proved to be responsive to sheer
human need. Many Wellesley women beginning in the 1890s were led by
sympathy for the poor to join the Settlement House Movement. When
Jacob Riis lectured on "Children of the Poor," he "made the listeners'
hearts to burn." Interest in local working girls continued, along with
work in refuges like the Dedham Female Asylum for released prisoners.
This active involvement of undergraduates of the time belies the
206 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
image presented frequently in contemporary magazines of campus life as
a not quite real world without cares or worry, a charming setting for
athletics, plays, and the creation of entertaining traditions. H. G. Wells,
gathering material for The Future of America, to be published in 1906,
was told by his Boston hosts that when he visited the College he would
be reminded of Tennyson's Princess. And so he was. He described "that
most delightful, that incredible girls' university ... set in a broad park
with a club house among glades and trees." Tongue in cheek, he wrote
of the girl students "fitting themselves for their share in the great Ameri-
can problem by the study of Greek" and of his state of "mighty doubting"
as he leafed through the calendar of courses. Still, he left the scene with
his "hope" that some usefulness would emerge, and also with his
"blessing."
Mr. Wells on this visit met only briefly with certain members of the
Wellesley faculty who were doing rather more than their share toward
solving America's problems: Professors Balch, Coman, Hayes, and Scud-
der. Some years later, when Emily Balch thought over her career as a
teacher, she referred to her diary for details and was surprised to find that
Wells had found fault with her course on the history of socialism, his
ground being that her students were "still reading Marx." "As if," she ex-
claimed in the diary, "one could discuss that history without doing so!"
As for Katharine Coman, she was simply mentioned as a teacher of
industrial history. Yet that course and Miss Coman's later courses in eco-
nomics turned many students into social activists. One of them described
her ability to "give insight into principles and practice so that students,
in whatever field of social work they entered, would recognize the con-
cepts that came to be generally accepted as to the relationship of class to
class, of man to man." She shared with them her experiences as a census-
taker, as a caseworker for the College Settlements Association, as a mem-
ber of the Strike Committee during the 1910-11 strike of the Chicago
Garment Workers. A dedicated member of the Consumers' League, she
managed in 1909 to found a Wellesley branch whose projects ranged
from entertaining three hundred workers on the shore of Lake Waban
to TZE's backing the League's crusade for purchasing only union prod-
ucts.
H. G. Wells mentioned Miss Scudder only as a teacher of English
Literature. He might have been interested in President Julia Irvine's
calling her "a detriment to the institution" since she was also a labor
unionist and a Socialist. When the question of college acceptance of
Standard Oil's "tainted money" was disturbing the Wellesley liberals of
1900 (as it disturbed other colleges and also the Protestant Board of Mis-
sions), Miss Scudder, according to her autobiography On Journey,
joined, if she did not instigate, a vehement "movement of revolt and
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 207
inquiry among faculty and students . . . naturally disconcerting to the
Wellesley Trustees." She asked her bishop whether she should resign. He
said, "No, . . . not until they force you out. Loss of the radicals would
spell death for the college." She was not "tipped out," since Wellesley
was "always liberal toward their most troublesome teachers" — except for
Miss Balch, as it later turned out. In 1912, when Miss Scudder supported
and spoke at a strike in Lawrence, Katharine Lee Bates, as head of the
English Department, was obliged to deal with protests, including a de-
mand for her dismissal which appeared in the Boston Transcript. Both
Miss Bates and Miss Scudder were idealists; both, in the opinion of Flor-
ence Converse '93, who not only wrote a history of the College but for
many years shared Miss Scudder's home in Wellesley, had "a good deal
of the rebel in them." And so, in the end, Miss Bates merely pointed out
that the radical ideas in which Miss Scudder believed so strongly "would
involuntarily seep into her lectures" and that she "was employed to teach
English Literature, not Economics." It was agreed, however, that for at
least a year she should not give her greatly loved course "Social Ideals in
English Letters." When the course resumed, it was, as always, "a heartfelt
arraignment of modern society" in which the Communist Manifesto
was read as "illustrative material."
Professor Ellen Hayes, a partner in Miss Scudder's Lawrence activities,
might seem to have had very little chance of introducing her social ideals
into her teaching of astronomy and applied mathematics, and for some
years after her appointment in 1879 she did not do so. Then she became
an ardent Socialist, a fearless suffragist, an experimenter in adult educa-
tion for working girls, an innovator who, according to M. M. Randall's
Improper Bostonian, the biography of Miss Balch, "dragged the Com-
munist Manifesto into her lectures on astronomy."
There were, of course, other instructors bent on social reform. In the
English Department, Sophie Hart encouraged a cosmopolitan view of
society; Margaret Sherwood wrote even-tempered, impressive novels
based on the social wrongs of her day. But it was Miss Balch who out-
did all the rest of the faculty in the scope of her influence. In 1897,
when Miss Coman invited her to take a half-time position, at first mostly
to read papers, she was already in some ways a citizen of the world and an
immovable pillar of the causes that she supported. She had been acting
as a "sort of apprentice" to a social pioneer in Boston's North End, filling
her diary with experiences that she shared with "the ardent and enthusi-
astic" Vida Scudder and other members of the little group that had
opened Denison House, and it was during a year as head worker at Deni-
son House that she summed up her observations of Boston's poverty:
less indecent than that of Glasgow and London's East End but as cruel.
Trade unionism, which was still economic heresy for men and non-exist-
208 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ent for women, was a magnet for Emily Balch. In 1894 she wrote in her
diary, "joined Federal Labor Union under American Federation of La-
bor." On Sunday afternoons she and Vida Scudder drew mental stimu-
lation from discussions with members of the Central Labor Union, and
she herself was a delegate of the Cigar Makers' Union at one of their
conventions. A controversial figure always, she was finally denied reap-
pointment as a Wellesley professor in 1919. (See page 100 in the chapter
on the faculty.)
It was no wonder that, with progressive teachers and with visiting
lecturers like Mary Simkovitch, Jane Addams, and Ida Tarbell, more
and more students were caught in the national upsurge of social reform
that lasted until World War I. Their first publications, the Courant
(1888), the Prelude, and the Wellesley Magazine, complemented course
work with articles like those of Mary Wriston '89 on union as a possible
remedy for the plight of the working girl, of Mary Conyngton '94 on a
strike in New Bedford, others on the Pennsylvania coal strike, the Home-
stead strike, and the scandal of child labor. Miss Coman contributed an
article on "The Transition in the Industrial Status of Women." The lec-
tures of distinguished visitors (a steady stream) from Great Britain were
reported in detail, notably a series on "The Development of Socialism
in England" and "The London Working Classes." Recurrent topics were
the Single Tax, Women's Suffrage, and Settlements.
Agora, a college society founded in 1891, directed its work program
toward a viable understanding of political issues and systems. Knowledge
was to be followed by action, as the quoting of Non Ministrari sed Minis-
trare at every ceremony of induction made clear. Meetings in a given
year might be centered on municipal reform or on current trends within
the national government or on comparisons of political movements at
home and abroad — for example, a series on Communism in France, Eng-
land, and the United States. Fifteen minutes were always allotted to one
or two ex tempore speakers who gathered news from all over the world.
In 1895, topics like "The Tramp and Out-of-Work Problems," "The
Poor, Sick, and Infirm," and "Rescue Work" were well received. The
year ended with a talk by Miss Coman, a member since the beginning,
on "The Tenement House."
The Early Twentieth Century
When jubilant bells ushered in the twentieth century, they accompanied
a hopeful spirit and a steady rise in the Progressives' influence as reform-
ers. Colleges tended to carry over from the 1890s their zeal for social bet-
terment; the radical students stood "only a little left of center" and "the
liberals not far away" — a description applicable to Wellesley. There,
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 20g
social action progressed at a reasonable pace, enlivened by occasional
outbursts of indignation. Faculty members listened to disagreements,
suggested paths to reconcilement, and at times found themselves at the
center of a controversy, as when, in 1900, their salaries seemed to con-
cerned students to call for investigation whereas faculty votes were al-
most unanimously against joining a teachers' union. Social work contin-
ued into the new century at such institutions as Denison House, where
the "philanthropic angle'' was partly replaced by "genuine democratic
contacts," most notably through the founding of the Circolo Italiano-
Americano. (Italians had replaced Irish as the neighbors closest to Deni-
son House.) The Circolo, whose president was Miss Scudder, spread its
enterprises throughout the city, and its spring and summer fiestas at
Wellesley were favorite schemes for breaking down barriers. Some of the
foreigners "at home in Denison House" were able, through a simple lec-
ture or a few visits on campus, to make an unforgettable impression "of
anguish inherent in privilege unshared and of glorious opportunities
for sharing in America." Miss Scudder was particularly moved by the
eloquent lectures and the "electric" personality of Catherine Breshkov-
sky, know as Babushka, the exiled grandmother of the Russian Revolu-
tion. On one of Babushka's return visits to the College, "some lucky
girls," invited to the President's House to meet her, were in doubt about
what to expect — "probably a fanatic, pouring out inflammatory talk."
Instead, they saw a joyous old woman, simply dressed, so happy to see
them that she had to dance a little pas seul on a terrace above Lake
Waban. Then she talked informally about her life and, Miss Scudder
reported, "conviction grew that the worst prison in the world is priv-
ileged class consciousness." Partly in response to such contacts, a study
group on Russian and Chinese revolutionary trends and practices met
from 1910 to 1912.
In their search for a democratic society the undergraduates formed
and re-formed study groups, each with a faculty adviser or two. Meetings,
especially those of the Social Studies Club, supplemented class and field
work. The Debate Club favored topics like "The Merits of Federal Own-
ership of Railways." A Socialist Club (including young faculty and vil-
lagers as well as students) met regularly at the home of Professor Hayes.
The numbers attending were so great that, according to Geraldine Gor-
don '00, who later bought the house and lived in it for many years, one
entry had to be widened and an extra one built. In a 1915 Boston parade
of suffragists, Miss Hayes was one of the Wellesley contingent, an affiliate
of the National Equal Suffrage League, which was widely known on
campus for its several well-attended lectures a year.
The Service Fund Committee moved with the new century, improving
its structure, increasing, year by year, the size of its budgets, and broad-
210 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ening the scope of its allotments within established classifications. The
heading "Education" still embraced native and foreign schools, grouped
as "white," "Negro," and "Indian," now more numerous and more widely
scattered than before. Half of the schools for whites were located in the
South, especially the Carolinas; most of the rest were in Montana, Wis-
consin, and Massachusetts. All of the schools for blacks were in the Caro-
linas and in Georgia, where a favorite of the Wellesley community, Aunt
Dinah (i.e. Dinah W. Pace), directed the Reed Home and Industrial
School. Aunt Dinah's spirited letters so far outdid the average appeal
that Agora invited her to speak at one of their meetings and reacted
strongly to her vivid descriptions of the school's ups and downs. Among
the foreign schools, the majority were related to Wellesley's missionary
connections in Smyrna, Constantinople, and India. Yenching College
for Women, outside the West Gate of Peking, received its first allotment
in 1908 and was formally adopted as Wellesley's sister-college in 1919.
Tsuda College, in Tokyo, Japan, also became a favored recipient for
many years.
As social activism on campus increased, evangelism declined without
weakening the religious life of the College. In 1913-14, the Christian
Association, almost completely in the students' control, had 1297 mem-
bers. Student volunteers, under the direction of faculty members, led
Bible and Mission Study groups, and weekly meetings for worship on
campus and in St. Andrew's Church in the village were run with great
proficiency by student and faculty leaders. Alumnae speak nostalgically
of the regular and special chapel services, the Christmas vespers initiated
by President Hazard, and the inspiring preachers who "covered the col-
lege circuit." Silver Bay conferences were carried on as usual except for
wartime changes in subject matter and for gaps in attendance. At the
same time, Quakers were provided a meeting place in the Observatory,
and Roman Catholic students became affiliated as a group with the local
parish church.
In the prewar years the Wellesley students also did what they could
for peace. Some of them demonstrated in parades with Veterans of For-
eign Wars banners and posters. The whole College "made a great thing
of Henry Ford's Peace Ship, and a procession of seniors cheered Miss
Balch as she left to board it." From 1914 to 1917 campus groups inevi-
tably turned from peacetime commitments to an attempt to "alleviate
the sufferings of war." French and Belgian orphans were adopted by
dormitories, money was raised for various relief organizations, and work-
rooms were established for sewing, bandage making, and knitting. Ac-
cording to Kathleen Elliott '18, "There was knitting in the classroom
and outside the classroom (the in influenced by the effect that dropping
needles had on the instructor)."
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 2 1 1
World War I
After the entrance of the United States into World War I, these activities
were accelerated and expanded, and students who had not previously
taken part in projects inevitably became involved in them. Miss Pendle-
ton and the presidents of the other colleges in the Seven College Confer-
ence and Goucher joined in a resolution sent to President Wilson in
April 1917 pledging wholehearted support to whatever measures he
undertook and placing at his disposal "any service which we and (as far
as we are able to speak for them) any service which the thousands of
trained women whom we have sent from our colleges may be able to
render." (Ruth Altman Greene '18 wrote her mother: "President Pendle-
ton has offered Wellesley body and soul to the country, and we are going
to turn our green meadows into potato beds and the geranium beds into
onion patches." The War Farm under the supervision of Professor Mar-
garet C. Ferguson of the Botany Department that summer employed forty-
eight students in squads of sixteen, thirteen in the field and three in the
"back-up housekeeping groups.") The Wellesley College War Relief Or-
ganization initially had charge of much of the volunteer work; then Miss
Pendleton in the spring of 1918 appointed a War Council composed of six
faculty members and five students to have general oversight of all organ-
izations and committees for relief work and patriotic services. A Red
Cross workroom was established in Agora Society House, and to spur the
production of surgical dressings the juniors and sophomores held a com-
petition which resulted in 19,600 dressings in one week.
Two members of the faculty, Eliza Newkirk '00 of the Art Department
and Margaret Jackson of the Italian Department, served overseas with
Wellesley Units. (Miss Newkirk was also appointed by the Army Educa-
tional Commission as the only woman on its architectural teaching staff;
among her duties was touring soldiers through first Paris and then Genoa,
pointing out buildings and objects of art.) The four Wellesley Units were
staffed primarily by alumnae and, Kathleen Elliott has noted, "To the
Wellesley community of World War I years, reports of their work proved
an inspiration which led to more dedicated efforts on the campus." Of
special interest on the campus were funds raised for the Frances Warren
Pershing Ambulance, given in memory of the member of 1903 whose
husband was the commanding general of the American Expeditionary
Force; the Edith Wharton Tubercular Hospital in France; a bed at the
American Hospital at Neuilly, France; the "soldiers' boxes" presented
to John Masefield, who aroused great enthusiasm for English causes when
he came several times to Wellesley to read his poetry. (On one of these
occasions he established the John Masefield prizes for Wellesley students
excelling in prose writing and verse.)
212 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Zest and spirit normally devoted to such "traditions" as the Harvard-
Wellesley Choir Concert, May Day, Garden Party, and Senior Prom,
which were patriotically cancelled, seem to have been transferred to fund
raising events. Witness this account of such an affair in the spring of
1918 as described in a letter by a senior: "Yesterday we had as beautiful
a celebration as I've seen since I've been here. The College, which is
raising money to back the Wellesley Relief Unit in France, gave an ex-
hibition to the village, charging fifty cents admission. The whole college
marched from the college green, up Central Street to the Athletic Field —
first the flag carried by soldiers from Fort Devens, then all the college
employees, the Freshmen and Sophomores in middies and bloomers, the
Juniors in white and the Seniors in cap and gown. Last came the fac-
ulty in full academic dress, their Masters and Doctors hoods of every
color under the sun. Imagine the pageantry of it, streaming along in the
sunlight! As they filed past us we all broke into a deafening clap and
cheer and I wish you could have seen their faces — dear Doctor Lockwood
with her Yale-blue doctor's hood, beloved Mary W. Calkins with her
cap over one ear, the good old dean with a chic quirk to her hood. And
the grand old Macdougall, gorgeous in his rose velvet music doctor's
hood, leading the Star Spangled Banner. President Pendleton, who was
a thing of wondrous stateliness and beauty, presented the town of Welles-
ley with a three-hundred-starred service flag. A portly alderman accepted
it. T^ band struck up a lively jig and we all danced on the green and ate
ice cream cones."
Although primary emphasis was on wartime activities, social service
interests were by no means abandoned. Elizabeth King Morey '19 in an
oral history interview in 1973 recalled that "There was a good deal of
pressure put on us to go to Denison House. I had a little bunch of Greek
children. I knew less about little Greek children than anybody living
could possibly know. I had them all out for a picnic and they all went
swimming in Longfellow Pond." She also remembered the importance of
"helping the labor movement" by wearing only underwear with the
union label — and finding it so coarse and crude that she "spent loads of
time putting fancy lace and ribbons on it." But, she added, "The real
social conscience in our class was not in my group but in other people
who were and have continued to be identified with movements and
organizations." In these years of war work, the motto was recognized as a
major influence, according to alumnae of that era.
The Twenties
After the war, however rapidly Wellesley mores may have changed in the
Jazz Age, for social activists the doctrines inculcated during the Pro-
gressive Era still formed a sound basis for protests against newly power-
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 213
ful enemies of the people: racism, at its worst in the Ku Klux Klan; fun-
damentalism as it was exhibited in the Scopes trial; restriction of immi-
gration; anti-intellectualism. The College was not alarmed by William
Jennings Bryan's claim that it was a dangerous place because of the
teaching of the Bible Department. Nor was it daunted by taunts flung at
it during the Sacco and Vanzetti trial in Dedham. Accused of radicalism,
students and faculty alike went to the hearings; the students sent a peti-
tion to the Governor of Massachusetts, asking that justice be done, and
in 1926, at the age of seventy-six, Miss Hayes made another of "her ap-
pearances in the headlines" by picketing against the execution, as Miss
Scudder said, "of those martyred men, condemned not for murder for for
being alien."
Among innovations that promised well for their developing social
consciousness, the freshmen's establishment of a Service Council in
1922-23 stands out. With seniors as their counselors, they not only fol-
lowed the traditional lines of work in Boston settlement houses and the
Wellesley Convalescent Home for Children but branched out into the
North Bennet Industrial School, the Institute for the Blind, Boston dis-
pensaries, and — to learn about case work — the Boston Society for the
Care of Girls. Some Christian Association officers of the same generation
at Professor Sophie Hart's suggestion inaugurated a social and educa-
tional Cosmopolitan Club. Each foreign member had an American sister.
Harvard and M.I.T. students were invited to some of the meetings, add-
ing greatly to the Club's popularity. Agora, true to its socio-political aims,
surpassed itself in the '20s by its work toward the development of har-
mony among children of the neighboring schools. Profiting by discussions
of their plans with Hunnewell School teachers and with boys and girls
from Grades 4, 5, and 6, some of them immigrants, they decided on
themes for a series of plays, all related to citizenship. Illustrative "field
work" consisted of excursions, three times a year, in and around Boston.
Junior and senior high school classes were brought to the campus for
pleasure and "indoctrination" — they were proud of the word. In 1923-24,
the basic program for this age group was reshaped, its climax a crowded
meeting in Alumnae Hall where pupils illustrated Negro contributions
to American culture through skits, music, painting, and modeling.
Immediately after the war, the College had set about modernizing the
Christian Association. To begin with, in the words of Barbara Kruger
Way '23, "a sort of offspring . . . escaped from the protecting wings
of the parent organization" to join an Intercollegiate Community Service
Organization. In her senior year she was president not only of the Welles-
ley branch but also of the combined Eastern women's colleges, eighteen
in all. Government of the association was entirely in student hands. Mrs.
Way remembers that, together with outstanding social workers and teach-
214 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ers, she spoke at meetings in New York and Washington and had as her
individual assignment visiting a Lithuanian family every week to teach
them "enough English to get needed supplies and to communicate with
the doctor who took care of their crippled child." The group as a whole
worked so faithfully in three settlement houses (Denison, Hale, and
South End) and in Chinatown that they began to feel worthy of course-
credit.
The Christian Association, meanwhile, was busy responding to com-
plaints. One, often heard, objected to the pledge, which was therefore
abandoned. Others were accompanied by directives toward moving "from
piety to dynamic living." Midweek services, decried as "ineffectual and
uninteresting," were replaced with fewer, more "relevant," and better-
attended meetings. Small groups, some short-lived, were formed: de-
nominational clubs, early-morning meditation groups, and a Round
Table of faculty and students that was apparently close kin to the "rap"
sessions of the 1960s and 1970s. Complaints of "too little student partici-
pation in the chapel services" were met by providing more speakers from
outside the ministry, giving over some services to carol-singing, and ener-
gizing the daily meetings. Carolyn Battel Lyon '28 recently described the
religious base of it all as "very liberal." Harry Emerson Fosdick's preach-
ing of his social gospel at Christmas vespers was one of her "most dra-
matic memories" and "an experience symbolic of the spirit of the whole
place at the time."
Susan Shepherd Sweezy '29 not long ago wrote an appreciative account
of the Christian Association activities in which she was most interested —
those "with Christian motivation although the general tone, especially in
the Student Industrial Committee, was one of sociological sharing and
challenging of each other." Inspired by the motto, she wrote editorials
for the News, "attacking the 'soft' life of the College." As a freshman,
she helped to promote mutual understanding with women shoe workers
in Brockton through an exchange of over-night and weekend visits, join-
ing in games, and holding conferences. The following summer, at the
Silver Bay Conference, where "there were talks about everything from
brotherhood to sex," she listened spellbound to two leaders whose ideas
"were stirring up the colleges" — William Simpson and Frank Buchman,
head of the Oxford Movement, later known as Moral Rearmament. Their
practical interpretation of Jesus' and St. Francis' teachings was supple-
mented for her by Bible courses and by friendly talks with Miss Scudder,
Henry R. Mussey and Elizabeth Donnan of the Economics Department,
and Annie K. Tuell of the English Department.
Zella Wheeler Nichols, also '29, noted that Wellesley's horizons were
steadily widening, perhaps most perceptibly in the territory of the Chris-
tian Association and its closely allied Service Fund. Through its affilia-
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 215
tion with the YWCA, the Wellesley Association had become a member
of, and contributor to, the National Student Christian movements in
forty-five countries. The interests of the Service Fund, both nationally
and abroad, were constantly being extended by Christian Association's
World Fellowship Committee. Together they responded to "appeals for
relief which no college girl wished to slight."
With the expansion of their projects both organizations took on a most
businesslike air. In a typical year, 1925, the Service Fund News Extra,
published in the opening week of college, included reports on the previ-
ous year and budgets for the new year, articles by alumnae and under-
graduates who knew and respected some of the applicants, and letters
from "characters" like Aunt Dinah, whose story was centered on crops
"all parched over" and, more happily, on boll-weevils that "didn't trouble
the cotton" one mite. The Sunday morning collection in chapel belonged
by tradition to the C. A. Central Committee. In 1925 it was turned over
to a Japanese Relief Fund for the earthquake-devastated island of Hon-
shu. Chapel talks, occasional flyers (some on the subject of unpaid
pledges), and the Alumnae Magazine kept alive the subject of giving.
Religious, humanitarian, and educational aims were becoming less
and less separable as guides to the allocation of funds. The C. A. Com-
mittees on World Fellowship and Foreign Education and the Service
Fund Committee were in general similarly motivated. C. A. had mis-
sionary obligations of long standing such as the Women's Board of Mis-
sions, the Student Volunteers, the Movement of Foreign Missions, and
the salaries of individual missionaries like Dr. Ruth Hume '97, a surgeon
at the American Marathi Mission Hospital in Abednegar, India. (In
1925, Dr. Hume also received $700 to replace her balky Ford, "Ellen
Fitz," itself a replacement for a team of oxen, with "Ellen Fitz II.") The
medical profession appeared on the lists in various contexts: for example,
the International Grenfell Mission, the Chinese Mission of New England,
a Mission to the Lepers (devoted to discovery of a cure), a local Com-
munity Health Association. Among educational institutions given allot-
ments, many were becoming obligations, if they were not so already:
Piedmont College, Atlanta University (for blacks only), settlement schools
(Hindman and Pine Mountain, for example), the Bryn Mawr Summer
School for Women Workers in Industry, a girls' school in Spain and an
International Institute for Girls (the only place in Spain offering college
education to women) — and so on around the world.
The Service Fund Committee's recommendations leaned a bit more
than those of the Christian Association toward the causes of American
Indians, Negroes, immigrant and migrant communities — without ignoring
the needs of "suffering lands" abroad, including Serbia, Armenia, Smyrna,
the Near East, and Central Europe. To Tsuda College in Tokyo, it allot-
2l6 WELLESLEY COLLECE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ted not only a substantial gift to speed its recovery from the earthquake
of 1923 but also a scholarship fund to support a teacher of English. In
1925, the teacher was Yoshi Kasuya '23, later President of the College.
One of the Committee's responses to the calamities of war was its financ-
ing of care for French orphans in private homes.
Another kind of Service Fund giving was really an exchange of service
for valuable experience. Ida Craven Merriam '25 was one of a succession
of Wellesley students to serve as an assistant teacher in the Bryn Mawr
Summer School for Working Women in Industry. She found everything
in the school exciting but "most exciting of all, the exceptional and
unusual persons — adventurous, independent, and with qualities of lead-
ership." The student neophytes learned, to their surprise, that "the labor-
ing 'class' is not a homogeneous group." The largest allotment of 1927,
$5000 to Yenching College, covered the salary of a visiting professor, Jane
Newell of Wellesley's Sociology Department, and much rebuilding and
modernizing of the campus as well.
The Depression Years
Only two years later, in 1929, "the Crash" put an end to a sharply de-
fined, open-handed, era. The depression that followed was unprecedented
in length. The Nation thought that colleges and universities were in
danger of a reaction from "frivolity toward insipid, smug sobriety." For-
tunately, neither of these extremes applied to Wellesley, where austerity
and common sense had the upper hand throughout the period.
Alumnae of the depression years, as many and as unified in spirit as
respondents of the twenties, agree that they felt singularly fortunate
though relatively poor. They volunteered for service in campus organiza-
tions, accepting leadership however burdensome it might be. And in try-
ing to find the best means of turning thought into action, they "re-invigo-
rated their social thinking." The Christian Association and Service Fund
Committees faced staggering lists of requests for help, all valid but, as a
whole, impossible to meet. They had to break many precedents and some
rules such as an early agreement that none of the Service Fund should go
to a campus organization. In 1931-32, $500 went to Students' Aid. The
Christian Association reduced more drastically than in the 1920s its al-
lotments to evangelical causes, at the same time valuing its obligations
to Yenching and to Dr. Hume as almost equal to the emergencies of Un-
employment Relief and Social Service in the United States. In 1932-33,
unemployment relief became the business of a separate committee, sup-
ported by advice from the Service Fund Committee. And the lists of
emergencies of all sorts grew and grew, taking in, for example, the schools
of Wellesley, Natick, and Framingham and also Natick's own Relief
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 217
Committee. The usual Boston allotments were curtailed to allow for
help to the Massachusetts Emergency Committee on Unemployment and
to the American Friends' Service Committee. The Wellesley Relief Com-
mittee especially favored Lawrence among the state's industrial cities,
but its greatest undertaking, as the Springfield Republican put it in 1933,
was "the adoption" of Millville, a factory town near the Rhode Island
border.
With its factories closed, its town government in disarray, and state aid
nominal at the start, Millville would have been altogether helpless if its
unpaid teachers had not been models of charity and of patience against
all odds. To back them up, Wellesley furnished a clinic, school meals,
and vegetable gardens, and also tried to meet individual needs that the
student committee and two faculty advisers discovered during frequent
visits until well into the 1940s. At Christmas, there was much industrious
campus knitting (and re-knitting by experts before delivery), dressing of
dolls, and collection of games, candy, and clothes for distribution at a
school party — all families and teachers invited, as well as the town steer-
ing committee. In its third year, the Unemployment Committee could
budget for the town only two-thirds of its earlier allotments, but a State
Commission kept its promise to pay for a Public Health nurse if the Col-
lege went on with such contributions as it could afford. Year after year,
the students could watch encouraging changes: employment restored
with some W.P.A. assistance; some rebuilding, though not enough to
meet hygienic standards; increasing health education; better school
lunches, thanks to help from the Kellogg Foundation.
In 1935 and 1936, the New Deal's creative years, an end to the De-
pression began to seem possible. Yet there was no decrease in the number
of decisions that faced the Unemployment Relief Committee. New ar-
rivals in the budget included the Works Progress Nursery School in
Wellesley, Red Cross Relief in Cochituate, an Anthracite Coal Area Com-
mittee. (Elizabeth Sickler '37 wrote after a summer in Pennsylvania about
the miners' families trying to keep warm on pickings from the slag-
heaps.) The Church World Service Committee was just as urgent in its
appeals on behalf of child laborers and of a migrant community of crop-
pickers from eight states made barren by dust-storms. The World Student
Christian Federation was one of the obligations that had to be dropped,
to be taken up again in better times.
In and outside classrooms, upheavals in the capital-labor relationship,
poverty, welfare, and the New Deal were the subjects most discussed dur-
ing a good share of the 1930s, according to alumnae whose careers were
founded on these concerns. Wilma Dubin Marlow '38 mentioned, as es-
pecially influential teachers, Professors Mary Treudley of the Sociology
Department. Seal Thompson of the Bible Department (expressing her
2l8 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
belief in the one-ness of men), and Marion Stark of the Mathematics De-
partment, who was a "power-house" in the Service Fund's management.
Then, as the decade neared its end, the Christian Association, Forum,
Agora, and informal gatherings of students and faculty were speaking
for world peace above all else. Forum was by then an all-college organiza-
tion, in a position to stir into action more followers than its predecessors
(the Liberal Club and the International Relations Club) had inspired.
Among the optimists there were many whose faith that peace could be
preserved outlived the time when the United States began to provide
England and France with the materials of war. The Christian Association
was the last to give up hope.
Throughout the troubled years the students added to their personal
services a variety of projects patterned on traditional lines and unrelated
to the Depression. In Boston they took on extra work: the Floating Hos-
pital for Children, for instance, and the placement section of the Chil-
dren's Aid Association. Also, there was always apprentice work to be done
for Service Fund recipients such as the Grenfell Mission in Newfound-
land, the Reformatory for Girls in Sleighton, Pennsylvania, New York
settlement houses, children's camps, and the School for Women Workers
in Industry, which had been transplanted from Bryn Mawr to the Hudson
Shore. They attended as many conferences as possible, two lucky ones
going to a meeting of the World Student Union Federation in Switzer-
land.
But the most rewarding of the summer meetings must surely have been
those held on the Wellesley campus: the Institute of International Rela-
tions (1931), and the Institute for Social Progress, founded by alumnae
in 1933. The Institute of International Relations drew representatives of
all ages from all walks of life: "clergy, missionaries, farmers, bankers, set-
tlement youth, economists," all eager to "study the Good Life of religion,
honest skepticism, economics, and political points of view . . . Anti-
Nazi Germany, Italian Fascism, China, Japan, Southern sharecroppers,
leaders of corporate industry, the negro race, organized labor . . . social
work ... all instruments to fend off another war." The Summer Insti-
tute for Social Progress followed a single line of questioning: "What Are
the Fundamentals of Good Social Order and How Are They To Be Real-
ized?" It was founded with the understanding that it would be self-sup-
porting. Professor Mussey of the Department of Economics aroused the
interest of his students in the venture, and Professor Katharine Balder-
ston '16, of the English Department, was an alumna member of the found-
ing committee. Dorothy Hill '15 was the director of the institute, whose
topic for the first year was "The Direction and Control of Our Economic
Future."
The first time Massachusetts colleges were confronted by a loyalty oath
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 2ig
was in the fall of 1935, and, as would be true some twenty years later
when a similar situation arose, Wellesley was in the forefront of institu-
tions expressing opposition. The General Court had passed the preceding
spring a bill requiring teachers to take an "oath of affirmation" to the
Constitutions of the United States and the Commonwealth. When the
Commissioner of Education notified the College that the "oath slips"
must be filed before December 1, "the widespread feeling of the college
community . . . was expressed in a written protest signed by one hun-
dred and forty-nine members of the faculty and sent with the oath slips
to the Commissioner," according to the President's Report for the year.
Moreover, "A motion to send a second protest was passed unanimously
on February 27 at a meeting of the Academic Council. At the hearings
which were subsequently held at the State House, the President and
representatives of the faculty, together with officers of neighboring institu-
tions, appeared and spoke against the bill requiring the oath." The pro-
test, which was prepared by Professor Edward E. Curtis of the History
Department, began by stating, "We feel that the requirement of the oath
is an unwarranted reflection on the patriotism of the teachers of the Com-
monwealth," and concluded: "We concur with President Conant of Har-
vard University in regarding the oath as 'unnecessary, unwise, and un-
fortunate' and we advocate the immediate repeal of the law." President
Pendleton pointed out that its passage had been a "depressing effect of a
national malady, the Red Scare," to which the College was almost en-
tirely immune.
World War II
In 1939, with war clouds on the horizon, Legenda, with the Non Minis-
trari motto decorating its parchment fly-leaf, gave considerable space to
Christian Association's reminders of opportunities to "become sensitive
to life's significance through worship, thoughtful discussion, and purpose-
ful activities." This yearbook indicates that even the tea parties were
centers for talking about the unemployed, the plight of prisoners, the
oppressed minorities in Germany, Spain, and China.
The mood of the college community and the attitude of students to-
ward the issues raised by the war which had broken out were expressed
by Miss McAfee in her President's Report for 1939-40: "Students all over
the United States were criticized in the spring of 1940 for their skepti-
cism and apathy in regard to the European and Oriental situations. It is
true that many undergraduates found it difficult to readjust their think-
ing from a strong anti-war basis to an assumption that some things are
worse than war. There was no exuberant rush toward involvement in the
war across the seas, and there were undoubtedly some students who were
220 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
carelessly unresponsive to the challenge of the war conditions. On the
other hand, there was a vigorous group of highly sensitive and intelligent
students who were tremendously concerned about their relations to the
fast-moving events abroad. . . ." She could also point to the fact that
when, shortly before Commencement, announcement was made that the
College had offered the use of its campus and buildings as a temporary
shelter for refugee children, and students were invited to volunteer to
return if they were needed, within twenty-four hours almost four hun-
dred students submitted application forms. (Actually, it was the following
year that the College entertained for the summer months a group of
British children, with student volunteers assisting in their care and recre-
ational programs.) Another indication of the desire to aid refugees was
the Faculty Fund for Dispossessed Scholars, which in 1939-40, for ex-
ample, made possible visits for short periods by seven foreign scholars
and for longer periods by two others.
A Committee on the National Emergency was established in the sum-
mer of 1940 to act as a coordinating agency for the many kinds of activi-
ties which developed. Its report issued in May 1941 stated that the part
of its program which is "educational in nature has been the logical out-
growth of a desire for correct information in an intelligent group; on the
other hand, various activities have resulted from the demands for both
social and relief work, most of which have also had important educa-
tional aspects." Sewing and knitting produced in a workroom for war
relief, and money raised through Service Fund, resulted in substantial
contributions to the American Red Cross, British War Relief Society,
China Relief, Greek War Relief Association, and the YWCA and the
American Friends Service Committee for relief work in France.
Then on December 7, 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. At a
crowded chapel service the following morning, President McAfee urged
the avoidance, on everyone's part, of hatred. The Christian Association
registered its "deep compassion for [the nation's] enemy." The News
declared editorially, "As war news swept over the campus suddenly a
generation of adolescents passed into maturity. A generation who were
previously seeking to find themselves stood ready to receive responsi-
bility."
Kathleen Elliott '18, an undergraduate in World War I and an ad-
ministrative officer of the College in World War II, has said: "Many of
our activities on the campus were the same in both wars. We once more
had workrooms for sewing and surgical dressings, and knitting needles
clicked once more." Again, most students and faculty took part in proj-
ects, this time including gardening, Air Raid Protection, USO, farming,
ground maintenance, and donation of blood. In the WAFEE (Wellesley
Auxiliary for Extra Energy) five hours in the workroom made one an
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 221
ensign, ten a lieutenant. (Navy terminology was part of the Wellesley
idiom; after all, President McAfee was granted leave to become the Di-
rector of the WAVES, and on the campus the Navy Supply Corps trained
officers who slept in double-decker bunks in Cazenove and Pomeroy Halls,
had a galley and mess hall in Alumnae Hall, and marched to classes in
parts of the Recreation Building and Mary Hemenway Hall.) Some of
the usual program of social work continued, and there were such new
activities as dances for enlisted men in the Recreation Building and en-
tertainments provided for die soldiers stationed at Camp Devens. In a
less organized fashion the students also helped to entertain the Supply
Corps midshipmen; the men's free time was usually restricted to a few
minutes after dinner, and the Wellesley girls sometimes walked them
back to their dormitories in time for them to start classes again at 7:30
in the evening. The officer in charge, Commander Ernest C. Collins,
USN, was the husband of a Wellesley alumna and was as cooperative as
possible, according to Dean Lucy Wilson. She recalled in an oral history
interview that when he "found that the students thought that the men
were pretty aged, the next group was younger, much younger. Then the
word from the Wellesley undergraduates was, 'Well, perhaps they would
be of interest to the freshmen and sophomores, but certainly not to the
seniors.' Ultimately the ages in the different groups were fairly well
spread, and I think that a few romances developed, but not many." And
in a similar interview Mildred McAfee Horton chuckled over the sudden
coolness she experienced on her first visit to the campus after the arrival
of the Supply Corps. She said, "I couldn't put my finger on the cause of
the coolness until finally someone came and asked me why I had arranged
that all of these men should be married. I was very much amused because
of course I had had absolutely nothing to do with the assignment of any-
body for anything, and that they thought I could run it that way from
Washington was very flattering to me — but pretty silly!"
Virginia Beach Hoyt '47 commented, "The war helped us to focus out-
ward to the world," and so said one Forum president after another. A
chapter of the United World Federation was founded, and a two-day
conference of eighteen colleges was held on International Service, with
Eleanor Roosevelt as the keynote speaker. (Topics centered on the impact
of war on Life, the Pocketbook, Freedom of Speech, and the Job.) In the
President's Report for 1943-44 Captain McAfee declared: "If there was
ever a cloistered life on the campus, the war has certainly altered it."
Among "expanding community relations" she noted the Sociology De-
partment's cooperation "in a survey on problems of ethnic relationship
for the Cambridge Community Council" and its "important interviewing
in Wellesley for the Committee on Food Habits of the National Research
Council"; solar observations for war use made by the Astronomy Depart-
222 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ment; plans to hold in the summer of 1944 the Wellesley School of Com-
munity Affairs "to work on questions of intercultural relations within the
American community under the direction of Dr. Margaret Mead"; the
establishment of the Wellesley Reconstruction Work School, which she
termed "an elaborate name for an important effort to meet a labor short-
age in the neighborhood while introducing students to farm and factory
work during the vacation."
The Mayling Soong Foundation had been established in 1942 in honor
of Madame Chiang Kai-shek at the time of her twenty-fifth reunion "to
interpret China and the other nations of the East to American college
students," and in 1943-44 Madame Chiang contributed $25,000 to it
and alumnae $42,100. In March 1943, shortly before Madame Chiang
addressed a joint session of the Houses of Congress, she made a historic,
truly legendary visit to the campus. Her radio address from Alumnae Hall
was carried all over the world.
The Service Fund Committee raised $15,471, of which $7,500 was allo-
cated to war relief through the Committee on War Activities. With
Forum that committee sponsored a series of lectures on postwar recon-
struction. It also collected clothes for European relief, conducted paper
salvage drives, continued to supervise the workroom for knitting, sew-
ing, and surgical dressings, and participated in two war loan drives which
resulted in the sale of bonds and stamps totaling more than $100,000. By
selling war stamps for admission to the Faculty Show, "The Thing Is the
Play," the faculty added $1,445 to the effort of the Committee on War
Activities.
Some students prepared to serve after graduation with the Red Cross or
the armed forces, and a considerable number of the younger members of
the faculty and maintenance staffs entered the Army, Navy, and Marine
Corps. As had been true in World War I, some members of the Academic
Council used their professional expertise for the "war effort": Dr. Marion
Loizeau was on the staff of the English Hospital of the British Emergency
Medical Services; E. Elizabeth Jones of the Zoology Department partici-
pated in a secret war project at the Harvard Medical School; M. Mar-
garet Ball of the Political Science Department worked with the State De-
partment on various assignments. Not closely related to her discipline,
Biblical History, was the work of Louise Pettibone Smith, who spent
much of a sabbatical leave with a unit of the Greek War Relief, six
months of the time at a Greek refugee camp in the Gaza Strip where
she was in charge of a surgical ward. Gwenyth Rhome and I were among
the people who combined with our usual occupations totally unfamiliar
chores on the three to eleven shift at a factory in Waltham.
Ann Campbell Campbell '43 perhaps summarized well the views of her
contemporaries when she wrote: "We were thoroughly immersed in the
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 223
war, and whether fund-raising, helping to entertain servicemen, or sup-
porting our own particular men, we felt we very much lived out the
motto. No gasoline for pleasure, an oil-short winter, limitations on meat
etc. reinforced our belief that we were serving others, not ourselves."
Post- War Years
After the war, all over the world people were making radical adjustments
in their own lives and were examining freshly every aspect of society. On
the campus the organization which received the most searching reap-
praisal was Christian Association. A faculty-student committee under the
chairmanship of Herbert M. Gale of the Biblical History Department
devoted a year to carrying out the mandate of C. A.'s Board to "study
the place of that organization in the life of the College." President Hor-
ton stated in her Report for 1947-48 that the committee proposed "estab-
lishment of the Wellesley College Community Chapel which shall be
administered by a joint board of faculty and students, together with the
organization of a Service Organization. The thought is that each of these
agencies shall be the official body for organizing those aspects of the
community which will have to do with worship and with social service so
that the College will function institutionally without obligating indi-
viduals to commit themselves to creedal statements in the area of Chris-
tian worship." Action was taken on the proposal the following year, and
Miss Clapp in 1949-50 reported: "This has been the first complete year
of the Community Chapel and of the Service Organization. The latter
has flourished, having a clear-cut program of action. The former has
gone through tribulations in efforts to define itself and to develop areas
in which its influence could be manifest, and there is some concern lest
the separation of the two functions will make less evident on this campus
the religious motivation from which have stemmed most acts of brother-
hood throughout history." The Chapel Organization continued to ex-
perience "tribulations"; in her President's Report for 1950-53 Miss Clapp
commented that "it was still adjusting to its new role in 1950-51. Gradu-
ally it has gained assurance and competence. Religious clubs representing
various denominations and faiths operate under its aegis, while the Board,
composed of student and faculty representatives and a new, continuing
administrative officer, a Director of Chapel [Carol M. Roehm '22], plans
daily and Sunday Chapel services, forums, and study and discussion
groups within the framework of the religious tradition of the College."
The Worship Committee of faculty and students planned formal services
along traditional lines and also such special services as "may be desired
by a contemporary generation." The plan for weekday services, other
than those led by President Clapp and some faculty members, was to
224 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
select fifty or sixty students who were free to replace Bible readings with
"talks." The talks turned out, generally, to be "rich, sincere, broad" in
approach. The new method of choosing Sunday preachers was painstak-
ing. The Committee sifted first the suggestions, and then the votes, of
the community and finally produced a slate of "thirty to fifty winners."
Then in 1959 a three-year experiment undertaken with the support of
a grant from the Danforth Foundation provided for the appointment as
Dean of the Chapel of Charles A. M. Hall, a young member of the Bib-
lical History Department who was a Presbyterian minister. The purpose
was twofold: "to discover whether the Sunday service would have more
meaning for larger numbers" if he gave some continuity to it by regu-
larly conducting part of the service while distinguished visiting clergymen
usually continued to preach the sermons; to have someone responsible
for giving advice to Chapel Organization if its members wished help in
planning its programs. In 1962 Fred Denbeaux, Professor of Biblical
Studies, was appointed Chairman of the Board of Preachers and had
charge of arranging the Sunday services, but the Director of Residence
or the Dean of Students assisted the Chapel Board in obtaining speakers
for other occasions. Chapel Organization as an "umbrella" fell apart with
increasing rapidity during the 1960s; denominational and other "splinter
organizations" such as the Radical Christian Movement assumed greater
importance than the overall structure. Agitation for the appointment of a
chaplain intensified at about the same time, and in 1968-69 the Reverend
Paul Santmire, already adviser to the Lutheran students on campus,
agreed to assume the responsibility. Mrs. Chaplin in the chapter on the
students describes the changing interests and emphases in the late 1960s
and early 1970s which led to the "decline and fall" of a number of or-
ganizations including the Community Chapel.
For a good many years after World War II, however, and even when
Chapel Organization took over some of Christian Association's functions
and Service Organization its other activities, the venerable Religious
Forum and the more recent Interfaith Forum were held almost every
year. The prototype of Religious Forum probably was the program called
"Vesper Services," which was conducted for twelve days in 1910-11 by
Eliza Hall Kendrick of the Bible Department, Katharine Lee Bates of the
English Department, and ministers from Philadelphia and Boston. The
twelve days may have seemed excessive to students and faculty alike; in
any event, nothing of the kind was held again until the "Week of Prayer"
in 1914-15. Under various names and for varying lengths of time (usually
from two to four days), and often near the beginning of the second se-
mester, a forum was held at which a well-known theologian, who was
almost always liberal and sometimes "controversial," lectured and held
discussions. Occasionally a Jew or a Catholic but ordinarily a Protestant
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT
\2¥y
was selected. On the other hand, when Interfaith Forum came into being
in the early 1940s, representatives of the Protestant, Roman Catholic,
and Jewish faiths, and sometimes a humanist or an agnostic, appeared on
the same platform. This event usually was confined to one session in the
fall and in it, as in the "Vesper Services" in 1910, Wellesley faculty mem-
bers occasionally took part.
Increasing emphasis on interfaith activities in the 1950s is attested by
statements from two presidents of Chapel. Janet Ayres Coles '55 wrote:
"On campus much time was spent on interfaith activities and there was
an effort to de-emphasize the Protestant Christian tradition so clearly
stated by Mr. Durant. We were concerned with the beliefs of all students
and sought ways to share them." Carolyn Friend Erickson '59 remem-
bered that the emphasis "was definitely to keep activities not only inter-
denominational, but also interfaith (with the exception of the worship
services themselves, which were of course of Christian orientation)." And
Mrs. Coles added, "I really think Service Organization was the social con-
science of the students, though some may have been awakened by Chapel
to realize a need for service."
Service Organization certainly provided the principal focus for the
philanthropic and social service interests of students from the time it was
established in 1948 until the mid-1960s. It absorbed Service Fund's role
of raising money for charitable purposes and disbursing it wisely after
careful study of the uses to which it would be put. For example, Eliza-
beth Kinney Johnson, president in 1965, told of her Allocations Commit-
tee which had three subgroups — educational, American, and world —
which collected information and made recommendations. (It especially
liked "unique projects" such as giving a heifer to a family with a low
income and having the first calf passed on to another needy family, and
the American Women's Hospital's program to improve the status of
women in medicine and to prevent illness.) With its yearly budget, some-
times as much as $16,000, S. O. supported children through the Foster
Parents Plan, contributed to educational institutions in various parts of
the world, sent wheat to India, money to the Netherlands for flood re-
lief, food to Arab refugees in Palestine, and supported a wide range of
other causes at home and abroad.
The other function of S. O. was to arrange opportunities for volun-
teers. Work continued in settlement houses, with the Bloodmobile, and
in some of the other long-standing projects, and the number of students
working in hospitals increased notably as the kinds of possibilities for
service expanded. In the Boston Psychiatric Hospital, for instance, stu-
dents were able to learn simple occupational therapy, and mental hos-
pitals provided a large array of opportunities. Students were among the
early volunteers in doing sound-scribing for the blind, and they also
226 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
devoted many hours to the children at the Perkins Institute for the Blind.
During S. O.'s later years there were a good many tutoring programs,
especially in Roxbury (and a dozen or more other campus organizations
also had such programs). Transportation was, however, a major problem;
it was more difficult to reach settlement houses by train or bus than it
had been in the earlier days of the College.
On the campus there was during the second semester of 1956-57 a spe-
cial project in which nearly all of the members of the college community
participated in one way or another. This was a program, the first of its
kind in a women's college, for ten Hungarian refugees who had managed
to escape following the Communist takeover of their country. The pur-
pose was to teach them enough English and to acquaint them sufficiently
with life in this country and, in particular, its educational institutions so
that they could be admitted to regular classes in a variety of schools and
colleges. In charge of the program was Carol M. Roehm '22, who at that
time was the Foreign Student Adviser and who had been the Director of
the Wellesley Institute for Foreign Students which in the summer of
1946 had pioneered in teaching students with a variety of language back-
grounds. The Trustees provided room and board in Dower House, as well
as tuition, for the Hungarians. Money for books and "extras," except for
clothes which the Students' Aid Society supplied, was earned by under-
graduates, who organized a "work weekend" and cleaned, cooked, and
shoveled snow for townspeople. Wellesley students conducted regular
practice sessions in spoken English as adjuncts to the classes given by
faculty members. Three Hungarian-born undergraduates were invaluable
as interpreters.
In the 1950s college students in the United States were being cate-
gorized as the "silent generation" in an Age of Anxiety, to use W. H.
Auden's term. One Wellesley alumna of that period in responding to
questions about the temper of her time said that the community was in-
deed inactive, "afraid of becoming involved"; another believed that she
and her friends were simply "apathetic," quietly in line with their "se-
curity-conscious generation, each in her own track to 'success' whatever
that might be"; still another felt that "people tend to forget that there
was always an active and concerned group." Certainly there was in gen-
eral considerable hesitation about supporting or signing petitions of
unknown organizations during the years 1950 to 1954 when Joseph R.
McCarthy flourished as Chairman of the Permanent Senate Subcommittee
on Investigation. On Miss Clapp's suggestion, members of the Political
Science Department cooperated with individual students and student
groups in providing information about outside organizations and in
helping students draft petitions which they sent to their Congressmen
and Senators under their own aegis.
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT 227
One faculty member who had no hesitation about being associated with
all manner of organizations was Louise Pettibone Smith, Professor of
Biblical History. She had been in Germany soon after Hitler came into
power and she was impressed by the fact that people she "had known for
some years, liked and trusted as individuals," were "unconsciously accept-
ing" Hitler's propaganda. She thought that she detected a similar re-
sponse on the part of friends here to McCarthyism, and, she said, "I
realized that I had never taken any responsibility for my liberal ideas."
Thereupon, as she stated in an oral history interview, "I signed every-
thing for months unless I definitely disagreed with it. Once you've started
signing, they pass names around, and a couple of months later I was
asked to be on the sponsor list for the American Committee for the Pro-
tection of the Foreign Born." By the time that the Jenner Committee
was investigating subversive influences in New England colleges, Miss
Smith was the chairman of the organization and was summoned to testify.
In an oral history interview, Miss Clapp said that when she learned of
the plans of the Jenner Committee to come to the Boston area, she ex-
pressed to some of the trustees her wish that faculty members who were
puzzled about their rights and what they should do if they were called
could obtain "an impartial, straight statement of 'If you do this, this
will follow, and so on.' judge Charles Cabot said he'd be glad to help if
he could in any way. The only case that ever came up was Louise."
According to Miss Smith, as soon as she received the subpoena and
informed the President, "Miss Clapp promptly got one of the members
of the Board of Trustees, who was a noted Boston lawyer, to come out
to Wellesley. We had an appointment at her house where he told me
exactly what my rights were before such an investigating committee. And
then I went to the interview — which was rather fun, as a matter of fact,
since I knew the College was behind me." She said that she and a Har-
vard professor "were perfectly content because we both had our institu-
tions behind us, but it was terribly hard for a number of people who
didn't have that kind of support." When she was asked whether she knew
that the American Committee for the Foreign Born was on the Attorney
General's list of subversive organizations, she replied: " 'I had been told
so, but I didn't know it.' They said, 'Well, it is; if you did know it, would
it have made a difference?' This was a committee chaired by a Repub-
lican. I looked at him and I said, 'I don't think so. I am sixty-five years
old.' (This was my last year at Wellesley.) 'I think I trust my judgment
more than Tom Clark's.' And of course that went down very well with
the Republicans, and then I said that I had never joined any organization
which I considered to be subversive. And they said, 'That's all right,
that's all we want. Good-bye.' " Miss Smith added: "The subpoena from
the Jenner Committee forced a short-notice cut for my classes, and of
228 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
course the hearings had received large newspaper headlines. Some of the
Bible majors drew the correct inference, verified their conclusion in the
department office, and then canvassed the student body. I happened to be
leading chapel later in the week. When I came in, the chapel was com-
pletely full. (There were usually a hundred or so present.) If Miss Clapp
had not had the wisdom to give me a warning beforehand that this would
happen, I don't think I could have kept my voice steady."
In an oral history interview Miss Clapp recalled a statement she es-
pecially liked that Miss Smith had made to her after the hearing: "The
reason I answered their questions was that all my non-Communist friends
said, 'Well, you'll have to do what you think is right,' and all my Com-
munist friends said, 'Don't answer their questions.' Nobody's going to
tell me what to do!"
The other issue concerning civil liberties which affected Wellesley and
other educational institutions in the 1950s was the disclaimer affidavit
included in the National Defense Education Act of 1958. Wellesley did
not apply for federal loan funds in the five-year period when the dis-
claimer affidavit was a prerequisite for obtaining them. Miss Clapp ex-
plained the reason for Wellesley's opposition in a statement that was
widely publicized and served as a model for some other colleges: "The
Academic Council and the Board of Trustees believe that it is improper
for this College, which urges inexperienced students to search zealously
and freely for truths, to invite them to take loans under the law as it now
stands. Although at first glance the Disclaimer Affidavit may seem harm-
less enough, it subjects students to risk of future penalty if in the course
of their investigation of ideas (which for young people frequently in-
volves the trying on of successive ideas) they should support an organiza-
tion or even hold a belief which an unnamed source on unnamed grounds
at an unnamed time may declare advocates the overthrow of the United
States Government by illegal means. Such a law is an invitation to timid-
ity, not a bulwark to the America that believes in the free market place
of ideas." Students were also involved in the protest and had letter-writ-
ing campaigns urging their Senators and Congressmen to repeal the Act.
The Sixties
It is interesting to notice that among the alumnae who responded to a
questionnaire sent in connection with this chapter, members of 1961,
1962, 1963, and 1966 all expressed the belief that theirs was the class that
marked "the end of the apathetic generation and the beginning of the
'activist student' era." Carolyn Revelle Hufbauer '61 regarded the sit-ins
in the South in 1960-61 as- "the beginning of the new era among college
students." Her successor as president of Forum, Carol Bensinger Lieb-
A MOTTO IN TRANSIT
229
man '62, also remembered the sit-ins in which some Wellesley students
took part; in addition she commented on the Peace Corps, the on and
off-campus activities of "the peace group, which was concerned with dis-
armament, and of the civil rights group," and a special drive to support
other students engaged in sit-ins. She said, however, "Although we saw
ourselves as significantly more 'committed' than members of the 'apa-
thetic generation' who were our immediate predecessors, our expression
of social consciousness for the most part took the form of attendance at
lectures and discussion groups. I remember particularly the African Sym-
posium presented by the Barnette Miller Foundation and the appearance
of Dr. Martin Luther King." Perhaps the issue on the campus which
aroused the greatest controversy (at least as reflected in the columns of
News and the minutes of Senate) was the "recognition" of Students for
a Democratic Society as a college organization: SDS was first denied and
later granted permission to organize a chapter. Rosemary Metrailer '66
pointed out that during her college years "things were really happening
in the South and with the war and the Cuban crisis; many students had
summer involvements in those areas. Noontime 'fasts' and freedom rides
and anti-war activities were just starting to happen."
In the chapter on the students Mrs. Chaplin, from her direct experi-
ence, gives an account of some of the activities and interests and thinking
on the campus during the next few years. What the views of the students
of the late sixties and early seventies will be a few years after their gradu-
ation no one can predict. But they too may be interested in the summary
of the comments made by the Class of 1960 in 1971. The editors of the
Class Record Book wrote: "The one strain that comes through so many
personal statements again and again is the desire to have a life of value.
To have meaning, to find meaning, to care, to help, to participate. Where
we do this and how we do it differ, but the striving is commonly felt. We
laughed at Wellesley's 'Non Ministrari, Sed Ministrare'; it was part of
the dusty mythology . . . and here we are, still trying to find a way to
minister, not to be ministered unto. It's not a bad way in which to be
alike." All of which brings the reader around to the saying, "The more
things change, the more they are the same."
From the 1935 Legenda.
For many years students and faculty volunteers worked at Denison House.
Delegates to the Christian Association Conference at Silver Bay in 1915.
Faculty children posed with dolls which students dressed as Christmas gifts for poor children (circa 1955).
.
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World War I: Wellesley Farmerettes work-
ing under the supervision of Professor
Margaret C. Ferguson; poster from the
1918 Legenda; cartoon from the 1922 Le-
genda.
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There <uas a ivar garden
The triumverate during World War II when President McAfee was Director of the WAVES:
Marie Rahr Haffenreffer
Ella Keats Whiting
Lucy Wilson
A war-time visit of Mme. Chiang
Kai-shek to the College.
Students entertaining the Navy Supply Corps at a dance in
Mary Hemenway Gymnasium.
Gardening in World War II. From
the 1945 Legenda.
CT)
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A rally in support of the Bonus Army.
From the 1935 Legenda.
Wellesley suffragettes joining in a demonstration demanding votes for women.
Forum rally supporting the candidacy of Wendell Willkie.
A welcome to Wellesley for Hungarian refugees.
j
Carol M. Roehm, the Director, and a class in the Wellesley Institute for Foreign Students, 1946.
BARBARA P. MCCARTHY
Traditions
When I was asked by the Centennial Historian to discuss "Traditions,"
those recurring extracurricular events which have a definite Wellesley
flavor, I protested the assignment. Traditions in this sense are the activi-
ties of zealous undergraduates and the memories of nostalgic alumnae.
I went to Pembroke, not Wellesley, so I argued that I could write about
Wellesley traditions only as an observer. When pressed, however, I had
to admit that my observation had extended over a fairly long period as
a member of the faculty from 1929 to 1970, that in those forty-one years
I had witnessed the death, birth, and rebirth of various traditions, and
that I had participated actively in one or two, such as Greek play and
faculty show. So I finally agreed to undertake the topic, relying on the
tolerance of Wellesley alumnae if I seem not to appreciate fully the inner
meaning of some of their more arcane rituals.
Various attempts have been made in the past to single out from the
multiplicity of dramatic, musical, athletic, and social events such as occur
at every college, those which deserve to be designated as "Wellesley tra-
ditions." An undergraduate orator in 1892 wrestled seriously with the
question and came up with a list of four: Flower Sunday, Float Day, Tree
Day, and Anniversary of the Founder's Death. Of these, the fourth con-
tinued to be observed into the 1920s for as long as there were speakers
available who had personally known Mr. Durant; the other three all go
back in origin to the Founder, and I shall start my history with them.
Flower Sunday is Wellesley's oldest and longest surviving tradition,
recurring annually from the second year of the College to the present
time. On the first Sunday of each college year, the chapel is gay with
flowers, and the text for the morning service is "God is love." This happy
opening program was the Founder's reaction to a disturbing experience
on the first Sunday of Wellesley's first year when an insensitive minister
chose as his text, "Thou hast hedged me about so that I cannot get out,"
235
236 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
— this for a congregation of young girls starting a "new life" with cour-
age undoubtedly but also with trepidation and not a little homesickness.
Mr. Durant saw eyes filled with tears, and for the opening Sunday of
1876 he invited a clergyman with the delightfully ecclesiastical name of
Dr. Pentecost to preach on the text "God is love." The opening hymn was
"Joyful, joyful," and the College Hall chapel was filled with flowers.
A description of the occasion in 1884 mentions "banks of foliage plants
from the greenhouses of Mrs. Durant, Japan lilies and roses from the
Waban conservatories, beautiful floral decorations contributed by Mr.
Hunnewell and Mr. Cheney, a large cross of brilliant flowers in the center
of the platform with large wreaths and tall baskets at each corner, and
twelve baskets of choice flowers suspended from the chandeliers." The
cut flowers were sent by Miss Freeman to class prayer meetings in the
evening to be distributed to the students. In addition to the abundant
chapel decorations, it was Mrs. Durant's custom to mark the day also by
a few flowers left in the early morning in the room of each new student.
Flowers and Love are still the motifs for Wellesley's first Sunday
Chapel. In 1972, according to the College News, "Freshmen, traditionally
given flowers by Big Sisters, carried many varieties, including carnations,
snapdragons, and daisies." In Houghton Chapel, where the familiar text
is inscribed high in the center of the chancel, the chaplain, Paul Sant-
mire, gave a sermon on Love. During the service the congregation was
invited to come forward to the altar and daisies were distributed in an
emphasis on the same theme. And — a symbol of community love — cook-
ies and punch were served on the steps of the chapel.
Tree Day, dating from May of the College's second year, also owes its
origin to the Founder, although it probably did not, as is usually as-
sumed, spring full-grown from his head. According to Greek Professor
Annie Sybil Montague '79, participant in the first Tree Day, the seed was
sown by girls who had heard of Vassar's tree planting and wanted to emu-
late their older sister college. "When the idea was mentioned to Mr. Du-
rant, he was very much pleased." By a happy coincidence Mr. Hunnewell
had just given him two Japanese golden evergreens, highly suitable trees
with which to inaugurate an annual festival. After chapel that evening he
made an announcement to the college classes (only two in 1877) and gave
them a few days in which to prepare appropriate ceremonies for a tree-
planting holiday. The freshman rites were kept simple by lack of time,
since before proceeding further they had to adopt a constitution and elect
officers. The more sophisticated sophomores prepared printed programs
and managed to produce a semblance of costumes with tissue-paper caps
and long tissue-paper ribbons pinned to their shoulders. Their authors
were so professionally minded that before composing a poem and a song
they prevailed upon a librarian, Miss Rosamond Pentecost (sister of
TRADITIONS 237
the clergyman who had preached on Flower Sunday), "to chaperone
them in rowing over to the Hunnewell estate before breakfast on a May
morning for an accurate observation of the trees." The first sight of the
green foliage tipped with yellow inspired the lines:
Brave tree of our choice, pale gold gleaming through
The green of thy boughs.
In the chorus of this first Tree Day song, they sought identity with their
tree, the "Daphne syndrome," in the words of Mary Rosenthal Lefkowitz
'57, Associate Professor of Greek and Latin, whose Tree Day lecture each
year in the Mythology course is fast becoming a new college tradition.
(Daphne, you may remember, fled from the embraces of Apollo and was
turned into a laurel tree.)
Oh, nymph divine, we're thine, we're thine.
Thy beauty is our chosen shrine.
We'll dare, we'll dare thy fate to share,
Our chosen nymph with golden hair.
At the moment of the planting, the freshman orator assigned to deliver
an "Apostrophe to the Trowel" was dismayed to find that the implement
put into her hand was a spade as tall as she was. The following year a
freshman class with a sense of history purchased a lighter spade to be
"preserved forever and ever" and had their numerals 1881 carved on the
handle.
In the next few years a pattern developed which included a march of
the classes in costumes, a program of orations and odes held close to the
senior tree (later in front of College Hall) and presided over by the sen-
ior mistress of ceremonies, and a program near the site of the new fresh-
man tree in which a sophomore orator handed over the spade to the
freshman mistress of ceremonies (in 1899 Bessie Wheeler Manwaring '02,
later a Professor of English), and announcement was made by the fresh-
man class of their color, their flower, and their motto, all of which sopho-
mores tried to discover in advance, sometimes by "questionable means."
(Witness a letter of protest in the News in 1903, signed by twenty-five
alumnae, including Katharine Lee Bates '80, Ellen Fitz Pendleton '86, and
Olive Davis '86.) From 1883 to 1917 juniors had a little ceremony of
their own late in the day, the planting of ivy (beginning with an ivy
brought to them from "Ellen's Isle" by Professor Horsford of Harvard,
friend of Mr. Durant and of the College), which alternated after 1905 with
the planting of a rosebush near the chapel, ivy in even years, roses in
odd years.
Tree Day was in the beginning a closed festivity for members of the
College and alumnae, with a few clergymen and men of letters invited
238 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
as special guests. Later, students were allowed a limited number of tickets
for their families. Only when money was badly needed was the occasion
opened to the public: in 1905 to raise money for a library; in 1914 for
the Fire Fund; and in 1919 for the Red Cross.
In the early years of Tree Day class costumes were all important and
were kept strictly secret in advance of the procession. We hear how the
freshmen in 1880 bought out Jordan's entire stock of white calico with
small red figures and, with the help of the housekeeper and two sewing
machines, secretly created uniform skirts and waists with belts of turkey
red. They carried red and silver Japanese fans and displayed a turkey-
red banner with an inscription in letters of silver paper, "Calico versus
Velvet," reference to a recent sermon by Mr. Durant in which he ex-
pressed preference for calico girls. They had an uneasy feeling that they
might be reprimanded for this display, but instead they were personally
congratulated by Mr. Durant, while President Ada Howard expressed
pleasure that their costumes had cost only thirty-nine cents and that they
had put Mr. Durant's sermon to such practical use. In 1883 the freshman
class wore "the daintiest white Mother Hubbards with daisy parasols
and the sweetest white baby caps ever found in the country." Their
orator was Ellen Fitz Pendleton whose speech must have been heard by
college guest Oliver Wendell Holmes. (The original copy is in the Ar-
chives, written in the familiar firm round hand. It is decorated with a
daisy and the Greek words to kalon, the good or beautiful.) In a Tradi-
tion Meeting in 1922 President Pendleton recalled that the senior cos-
tume that year was a black silk dress with a red geranium at the belt
and a black parasol. "This ensemble," she added dryly, "was alleged to
represent beauty." The next year, 1884, seniors fashioned for themselves
caps and gowns, setting a precedent for subsequent Tree Days, ten years
before the College adopted academic regalia. For their honorary member,
President Alice Freeman, they made a gown of finer stuff, which was
"distractingly becoming." The president of this enterprising class, who
gave the speech of welcome, was Edith S. Tufts, for many years Dean of
Residence. Sophomores the same year were dressed in white with yellow
daisy hats, juniors were "a walking rainbow, each of the seven colors of
the spectrum seven times reproduced," while freshmen in green and white
wore "pretty headdresses of the peasant maids of Italy."
Dramatic story and dancing were first introduced into Tree Day in
1889 when seniors presented a masque in which the Spirit of the Tulip
Tree, their Class tree, left other tree spirits to become a mortal and join
the Class of 1889. In the cast was their honorary member, Dr. Phillips
Brooks, later Episcopal Bishop of Massachusetts and a Wellesley trustee,
as Jack-in-the-Pulpit. The freshmen, English maidens of the fourteenth
century in gowns of pink and white, included dancing in their cere-
TRADITIONS 239
mony: twenty-four of their tallest winding a maypole while the rest of
the class accompanied the dance with song. Until the First World War
Tree Day pageants generally presented a dream world of tree spirits
and animated flowers, sentimentalized versions of Greek myths, or literary
scenes touched with splendor. The 1906 senior pageant was played on the
bank of Longfellow Pond, where Dryads and Naiads danced and Pan
pursued Syrinx in a technique of "picture dancing" originated by Welles-
ley's Lucille Hill, Director of Physical Training, and said to be a "re-
vival of the Greek art which is found nowhere else at the present day."
In 1910 all four classes, instead of being disparate groups, united in pre-
senting "A Merrie Festival performed before her Majestie, Queene Eliza-
beth of England, in the springtime," with knights and ladies, tradespeople
and choir boys. The freshmen were peasant children led in merry coun-
try dances by their mistress of ceremonies, Evelyn Wells '13, later Pro-
fessor of English and authority on English ballads. Even the giver and
receiver of the spade were made part of the general ensemble, as court
jesters.
Of all the Tree Days before I came to Wellesley, the one I would most
like to have seen took place in 1916, two years after College Hall fire,
when instead of a myth or a romance, the pageant was an allegory of
Wellesley's history: the triumph of Faith over the Doubts and Prejudices
that had blocked the path of women's education, the ideals of Wisdom
and Honor that directed the work of the College, the development of its
courses of study, then, in the midst of a triumphant dance, the sudden
onset of Fire, Smoke, and Flame, with Despair and Grief, which changed
quickly to Hope and Promise. The story ended with the coming of a
golden New Era, which led the Vision of the College Beautiful (the senior
Tree Day mistress) and the whole brilliant pageant across the green and
up the hill toward the new Wellesley that was being born out of the
recent crisis.
The basic form of the Tree Day ceremony altered little after 1916.
Held on "Severance Green" (except for 1920 and 1923 when it was on the
lawn of the "Durant Guest House," now the President's House, with the
lake as a background), it began with the procession of classes, seniors in
cap and gown, the rest in white with beanies and other touches of their
class colors. Moving to form a great W, they sang the Alma Mater and
gave the musical Wellesley cheer, then broke ranks and ran to join the
rest of the audience on the hillside. To the music of "Pomp and Circum-
stance," the beautiful Tree Day mistress with sweeping robes and flowing
hair moved gracefully down the Art Building Hill with her aides to sit on
a dais at the side of the Green. (In 1934 the Boston Post noted that no
girl with bobbed hair had ever been elected Tree Day mistress.) The
pageant was played out before the Queen and her court by dancers from
24O WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
all classes, coached to a high degree of perfection by members of the
Physical Education Department. Then came the familiar Spade Ceremony
with its little intra-mural jokes, and finally the race to the new class tree,
with freshmen trying to reach its secret location ahead of the sophomores.
While the general program remained the same, dance techniques
changed through the years, and so did the themes of the pageant. The
last tree spirits danced in 1917, combining rather strangely with a Spade
Ceremony in which America gave the spade to Joan of Arc, youth called
to service. In 1918 and 1919 Icelandic and American Indian stories sym-
bolized suffering, succeeded by hope. In the opulent 20s came fairy sto-
ries and in the early 30s, the depression years, mechanical realism (the
Machine Age, Man's Control of Light). As amplification of recordings
improved to concert reproduction, emphasis shifted to music, with the
choice of a composition by Prokofieff, for example, or Stravinsky, or
Aaron Copland, determining the mood of the pageant and the nature of
the choreography.
In the late 1950s and 1960s student interests were directed more and
more away from the campus. There were always dancers who were willing
to perform short group numbers in a colorful Spanish Fiesta or in Alice
in Wonderland or Peter Pan, but the majority of students could think of
more congenial ways to spend a spring Saturday afternoon than to march
in white dress and class color and sit uncomfortably on a hillside to par-
ticipate in a ritual which had little meaning for them. In the hope of
keeping more students on campus, Tree Day was expanded into a spring
weekend with dances and concerts. But a picture of the W, the year of
the last pageant in 1968, shows that the festival with its formal beauty
had become an anachronism. The W is straggly and ill-formed, the few
students participating in it seem by their choice of dress and their non-
chalant poses to be deliberately avoiding any appearance of uniformity.
In 1969 "due to the proximity of exam week to Tree Day," the pageant
was omitted. Tree planting and crew races were preceded by a picnic,
with refreshments sold for the benefit of Upward Bound. News urged
students to contribute to a good cause while enjoying spring on the cam-
pus and so to "institute a new, perhaps more worthwhile tradition at
Wellesley." This was the College's last Tree Day. The ritual ceremony of
planting a tree, however, still goes on, carried out now by sophomores
on Sophomore Parents' Day.
Mr. Durant had founded his college on a lake; from this fact came
two famous traditions: the Wellesley crew and Float Day (or Float
Night). Boating for young ladies was at once "attractive and beneficial
to the health," and safe craft of various sizes were provided for them.
The larger boats, accommodating eight rowers and a cox, became the
property pro tern of a crew attractively dressed in uniform boating cos-
TRADITIONS 24 1
tumes. Writing in the Christian Union in 1880, Dr. Lyman Abbott, a
favorite preacher at the College, described how the senior crew took him
on the lake: "It was a curious experience to sit quietly in the stern and
be rowed by a crew of young ladies, while the lake was dotted with the
tasteful uniforms of the crews, each in its own colors, and the setting sun
painted a picture rare in its beauty." Another early college guest, Long-
fellow, was similarly entertained on the lake in a boat christened for the
occasion "Evangeline." Each of the three upper classes had an official
crew; freshmen could form as many crews as there were extra boats. In
1883 a group which organized such a crew for the good ship "Prydwen"
included Ellen Fitz Pendleton and Helen Merrill. According to Miss
Merrill when she was a Professor of Mathematics, it was said to be the
best looking and worst rowing crew on the lake, and no single member
of it made the sophomore crew the following year.
One day every year all the crews held a demonstration in which they
exhibited their rowing skill, their talent as singers, and seemingly above
all, their charming costumes. The outfit of the new sophomore crew was
always a sensation. The Annals of 1883 describe how sophomores of that
year shut themselves mysteriously in their rooms for days with signs,
"Please do not knock," to emerge in time for Float Day with "cream
blouses and full skirts, gilt edgings and jaunty caps, spoon oars glistening
and banners flying." The many freshmen crews that year, which included
the distinguished one of the Prydwen, seemed to the senior writing the
Annals like "pretty hordes of ducklings." A typical program of the
eighties was described in the Wellesley Courant of May 30, 1884. The
three upperclass crews, the only ones to boast spoon oars, and eleven
freshmen crews met at the south porch of College Hall in full boating
costume. Arriving at the lake they rowed about at first, then the boats
gathered together "until the whole flotilla made a floating island in a
sunset-tinted lake." As hundreds of spectators stood on the banks, each
crew sang its own original song. Finally with the singing of "Goodnight,
Ladies," they pulled away for further exercise. The reporter did not
mention the formation by the boats of a circle and a star which appear
in photographs of the 1880s. An account of Float in 1889 described
its effect on the distinguished honorary member of the junior class,
Chauncey Depew, unsuccessful candidate the year before for Republican
presidential nominee: "Arriving in the midst of the exercises, as he de-
scended the hill the scene upon the lake was hidden from view until he
had almost reached the shore where the picture burst suddenly upon him
and in his exclamation, 'How charming,' those who were with him knew
that his heart was won for Wellesley." This simple version of Float,
"comely" young ladies rowing and singing in the sunset, also charmed
the readers of popular magazines. A writer in Demarest's Family Maga-
242 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
zine in 1890 described with fervor the moment "after the last level ray of
sunlight had died away. Then, one by one, along the wide curve of the
shore and from the many boats, gleam out the lanterns, and they are re-
flected in the quiet water until the whole scene is a fairyland." Another
writer the same year in Illustrated American marveled at the "various
boat songs, grave and gay, English, Latin, German, French, and Irish,"
and called the Float "a gala time to which the brothers like to be invited."
During the 1890s Float Day became Wellesley's "open house," and
special trains were run for the occasion from Boston. New light cedar
boats in 1892 no doubt improved the rowing. Bands played during the
evening, in 1896 the Germanic Band of Boston. Besides the glory of the
sunset (always extolled in accounts of Float) and the lights on the boats,
there were hundreds of Japanese lanterns strung among the trees, colored
lights thrown from the shore, and displays of fireworks. In 1898 Abbie
Carter Goodloe '89 writing the lead article in the May Scribner's, "Un-
dergraduate Life at Wellesley," estimated that Float that year drew 7,000
guests including the Governor of Massachusetts and the Mayor of Boston.
A restrained undergraduate reporter, whose highest praise of the evening
was that "one's own particular man was not bored to death," agreed that
there were at least 6,000 visitors. With so large an outdoor event there
was always one major concern — the weather. But in 1899 when a sudden
storm erupted after trainloads of guests had arrived, this was not the
disaster it would be in later years. The boat crews could still parade in
College Hall, showing off their costumes and singing their new songs.
"The bands played and the crowds drank lemonade while thunder
pealed, lightning flashed, and rain poured steadily down."
As the twentieth century got under way other activities crowded out
rowing as an all-college interest. The crews were reduced to four, one for
each class, and in exhibitions the W replaced the many-pointed star.
Float began to lose its glamor until in 1908 it was admitted that "while
the guests seemed to enjoy it, most of the girls pronounced it a bore." At
this point the water pageant came into being in an attempt to make the
evening "more an expression of the spirit of the whole college." The
earlier features of Float were also retained with one added attraction, the
christening of the freshman shell. For some years the pageants consisted
of a procession of boats, many of them student-owned, elaborately lighted
and decorated, each representing part of a general theme, Canadian Water
Festival, for example, A Modern Carnival, or United States Colleges. The
subjects were less nature-oriented than those of early Tree Days, with
no Water Sprites to parallel Tree Nymphs. With war came patriotic
themes, America and Her Allies in 1917, and in 1919 World Leaders and
the League of Nations. (The pageant was omitted in 1918 and only the
crews performed.) In 1917 a large float in the middle of the lake was oc-
TRADITIONS 243
cupied by the Harvard Military Band, which failed in an attempt to
play Wellesley songs, but "redeemed itself with stirring national airs."
In the 1920s came the real floats, comparable to those in land parades,
each platform with its tableau carried on two canoes. These floats in-
volved elaborate and expensive staging, and on a windy night they could
offer problems to the paddlers. On Float Night one went to the lake
early in the evening for a good seat, armed with a sweater for the night
breezes and citronella for the mosquitoes. Crew races came first while it
was still daylight. Then as the sun went down came the parade of the
crews, the W, and the singing, and in the last of the sunset, the rowing
in perfect form of the varsity crew. An intermission (which sometimes
seemed interminable) followed until it was dark enough for the pageant,
but the floats were always worth waiting for. Picked up by floodlights on
the shore, they were extraordinarily beautiful as they moved along the
dark lake to appropriate music. One remembers favorites: Idylls of the
King, Wanderings of Odysseus, Alice in Wonderland. Other colleges
might have spring masques similar to Tree Day, but Float was a uniquely
Wellesley experience. Fireworks ended the evening until in 1933 a young
man, who insisted he knew all about rockets, set fire to a box containing
three dozen of them. As Mr. Collins of the Service Building described the
accident to a News reporter in 1947, the year of the last Float, "Rockets
were shooting all over Claflin and Tower Court, and no one's been very
keen on the idea since."
Float did not stop because people were bored with it, but because of
a lapse of three years during the Second World War followed by acts of
God. In 1946, though none of the classes in college had ever experienced
Float, students set out with enthusiasm to revive it. The pageant, Hansel
and Gretel, was rained out. The next year Float, still Hansel and Gretel,
emerged "after years of darkness," a triumph. But in 1948 with entranc-
ing floats ready to present Arabian Nights, it rained again. Two rainouts
of a very expensive and time-consuming show in one generation after an
enforced blackout of three years was too much. Float was abandoned.
In 1949 class crew races became part of Tree Day, and since the aban-
doning of Tree Day, they have continued as a separate event, with the
winners challenging a crew of the faculty. The "varsity" crew, praised in
the News for their "dedication to clean sport," is a hard-working, inter-
collegiate team, rowing against other women's crews in regattas that used
to see only male competition.
Another longstanding tradition, a less formal rite than Tree Day or
Float Night, was May Day (play day), the origin of which is generally
attributed to the Class of 1895. Alice Hunt frequently recalled with
pleasure how on April 30 of that year she and other seniors were standing
in front of College Hall before lunch, lamenting the Wellesley tendency
244 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
to take oneself too seriously when the idea occurred to them "to celebrate
May Day as blithesomely as Elizabethans, as children, if necessary." Pro-
ceeding that same afternoon to acquire hoops, balls, jumpropes, they
"electrified the College" the next morning by rolling hoops, in their caps
and gowns (regalia which had been adopted only the year before) around
and around the circle of College Hall until chapel time, and then back
and forth to classes. In the afternoon they dressed in short skirts, jumped
rope, and played such games as Drop the Handkerchief, Hide and Seek,
and London Bridge.
Miss Tufts claimed an earlier origin for May Day when she told a
News reporter in 1925 that in the early eighties they used to enjoy a gala
day with maypole and hoop-rolling on the slope of Stone Hall hill. Ac-
cording to her recollection, 1883 was the first class to have hoop-rolling.
This date is borne out by mention of a May frolic with rolling hoops in
a slim pamphlet, Wellesley Annals of 1883, in which an anonymous sen-
ior recounted with engaging humor the events of the current year. "By
the close of the winter term," she wrote, "seniors looked worn out and
felt the need of rejuvenation. Besides we had noticed that the freshmen
but half knew the joy of childish sports. Therefore, for their benefit en-
tirely, we made a great outlay of money invested in rubber balls with
strings attached, jumping ropes, teeters, springboards, and rolling hoops.
With our hair neatly braided down our backs and long-sleeved white
aprons we hurried out to play one morning in May. It was simply beauti-
ful to view our infantile playfulness. Miss Whiting [Sarah Frances Whit-
ing, Professor of Physics and Astronomy] herself was so attracted by the
seesaw that she teetered and teetered right over the edge of silent time" (a
period of twenty minutes, morning and evening, during which students
were required to be in their rooms, silent). Records do not reveal whether
this agreeable mass hysteria occurred again at any time between 1883
and 1895. Even in the News reports of 1895 I find only one reference to
their momentous play day. In the Tree Day speech of the senior class
president (Athena Akademika) the juniors were told, "If the hoops do
descend from class to class, when they have gotten as low as they can, un-
doubtedly '96 will get them — undoubtedly. Snatch not the gifts of the
gods with such untimely haste then." I cannot help wondering if some
of these hoops had already descended (as hoops have always done from
class to class to class) from the seniors of 1883. In any case, after 1895
May Day was an annual event. College Notes in the Alumnae Magazine
mention on May 1, 1897, the "usual custom" of rolling hoops around the
circle.
For many years these May events were preceded by a secret and very
strange ceremony of purification, attributed also by Miss Hunt to 1895.
This was the scrubbing of the Backwoodsman, a colossal marble statue
TRADITIONS 245
of a man with raised axe, which stood on the south porch of College Hall
from 1886 to 1912, gazing out through the pillars at the lake. The work
of Henry Dexter, it had been displayed for some years in the Athenaeum,
where it was much admired as a naturalistic American portrait. But the
unappreciative students of 1886 found the subject "grim and gaunt," of
"fierce and ghastly aspect," and felt sure he was left on the back steps
because his "certificate of admission was unsatisfactory." This certificate,
which he was said to have "trampled beneath his feet," was a handsomely
lettered inscription on the granite base, "The Backwoodsman 1844,
Henry Dexter fecit." Despite this initially poor reception, the Woodsman
became in time an object of strange devotion to Wellesley students. For
many May Days, in a sunrise ceremony, he was thoroughly bathed and
his teeth brushed by energetic seniors who sang as they worked:
We are the Seniors
Seniors are we
Washing the Woodsman
Right merrily.
So vigorous was the scrubbing that in 1906 the College News reported,
"In the bustle and excitement a chip was taken from his Greek nose
and a thumb swept off." On that same occasion, perhaps in compensation,
he was given a crowbar decorated with a crisp blue bow and a blue and
silver scarf was tied around his stalwart neck. The excitement of May
Day prompted also the early morning decorating of other statues. For
some unexplained reason it seemed hilariously funny to give them in-
congruous hairdos, frills, bows, and parasols, in the same spirit, what-
ever it was, which prompted male contemporaries to coat with paint
monumental statues such as that of John Harvard.
One statue was always given particular attention, the large seated
representation of Harriet Martineau (a gift to the College from the artist,
Anne Whitney), which occupied a commanding position in College Hall
center from 1887 until the fire of 1914. Harriet was a very special lady,
since every freshman, however plump, was pushed and pulled under the
rungs of her chair in a ceremony known as "Going through Harriet."
(We hear of one fat maiden who got stuck in the process and stayed there
for a long time "like a pig under a fence.") The Class of 1909 chose to
perform the May Day ablutions on Harriet instead of on the Backwoods-
man. As they worked, their orator "in a simple homespun gown of
calico" recited a long ode which would have delighted the socially con-
scious Miss Martineau. I quote a few lines:
Woman has thrown off the yoke — she is free.
She is no longer a toy — no more a slave!
246 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Let man keep the bottle — woman claims the ballot!!!
We scrub Harriet.
According to the Boston Sunday Globe, June 8, 1913, Harriet was bathed
once each year by succeeding senior classes. We have a description of the
rite in 1902 when at 6:15 a.m. on November 19 a "company of pilgrims"
bathed the statue of Miss Martineau so industriously that "for fifteen
minutes no sound was heard save the swashing of water, the scrubbing
of stiff brushes, and the soft rubbing of towels." Occasionally they paused
to sing:
See dust of ages flee from the scrubbing,
See how she takes all this vigorous rubbing,
Seniors, advance to the annual tubbing
Of Martineau, Harriet.
Except for 1909, other classes, on May Day at least, continued to scrub
the Woodsman until during a vacation in 1912 the beloved statue disap-
peared. What had happened to him was a deep mystery. One rumor
made him an "ingredient of the doughnut," a concrete circular walk
that was under construction at the time in front of College Hall. An-
other rumor placed him in the aqueduct as witness the final stanza of a
mournful poem in the 1913 Legenda:
The aqueduct is far away
And they have laid him deep;
But always in the month of May
His weary ghost comes back to weep;
For he laments as spirits can
That they should steal our only man.
This second theory received support many years later when the statue's
base was discovered on the golf course in the widening of Fuller Brook.
But a memorandum (recently presented to the Wellesley Archives) writ-
ten by Edwin J. Monaghan, who was the superintendent of College Hall,
confirms the first hypothesis. Vividly he described how "learned people
assembled in solemn session" at midnight and condemned the Backwoods-
man to be "dismembered, piled on a drag, and dumped into the excava-
tion for the doughnut." One meek, mild lady protested that she had
known this good and just man ever since she was a child and that she
knew no evil of him. But to the other elders of the College he had obvi-
ously become an intolerable eyesore. (Who knows how many other pieces
of his anatomy had followed the nose and thumb broken in 1906?) On
May Day 1913 the seniors, deprived of their Backwoodsman, scrubbed
the Doughnut and included his ghost in their ceremony. The practice of
ritual cleansing continued for years, with 1914 scrubbing the library steps,
TRADITIONS 247
1916 the walls and steps of the new Tower Court, and 1915 and other
classes transferring the ceremony to the steps of the chapel. Dressed as
bedraggled scrubwomen, they made a great effort each year to be funnier
and funnier, talking in "supposedly Irish" accents, until the Class of 1923
wisely voted to abandon the scrubbing as "of no present significance."
There was one abortive attempt to revive the custom when juniors washed
the chapel steps in 1959.
The second, and after 1922 the first, event of May Day was the rolling
of hoops by the seniors, at first around the circle of College Hall, later
down Tower Court Hill and up to the steps of the chapel. For some years
they rolled for sheer joy in the exercise and in the incongruity of senior
gowns and childish sport. As they reached their goal, the seniors formed
into two rows and raised their hoops to make a picturesque archway
under which the other classes marched into chapel. In time the spirit
of competition entered into the sport which became a race, then inevitably
the victory took on symbolic meaning. The winner must have the prize
which all college girls were supposed to be seeking: she would be the first
in the class to get her man. So she was presented with a wedding bouquet
and sometimes wreathed with flowers. (Now winning became important
and since a front position in the starting line was of prime advantage,
sophomores camped out for long hours to hold strategic places for their
particular "big sisters.") The facet of May Day which has always been
of most interest to the press is the "legend" of the "first bride." And for
many people the Wellesley image has long been a pretty girl in academic
garb with wedding bouquet and triumphant smile framed in the circle
of her hoop. If the winner is an engaged girl, her fiance may be on hand
to be photographed with her in the magic circle.
The Wellesley hoop race which received the widest publicity was that
of 1939 when the winner in the act of being crowned with a wreath of
blue and yellow flowers was revealed as the editor of the Harvard Lam-
poon, wearing a red wig, white blouse, and blue skirt. Both Euripides
and Aristophanes record the violent reaction of worshippers at ancient
female rites in similar circumstances, and Wellesley women also showed
proper outrage as they seized the interloper, dragged him to the shore
of the lake, and threw him bodily into the water. At chapel President
McAfee assured them, "You have made history this morning." The event
was immortalized in the "Ballad of a Bold Bad Man," which appears in
the Wellesley College Song Book.
As more students began to marry during their college course, the prom-
ised reward lost its meaning. Married seniors in 1950 had baby carriages
instead of hoops, two of them with real babies, and for several years after
this baby carriages appeared regularly in the race. In the 1960s hoop-
rolling was briefly attached to Tree Day, then transferred to Sophomore
248 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Fathers' Day, a nostalgic entertainment for early rising dads. Although
marriage no longer has an essential priority for today's students, the
winner is still given the traditional bridal bouquet. The man-in-drag
who is tossed into the lake is also a firm tradition; in 1973 he was a
Wellesley "coed" from Williams.
Beginning at least as early as 1906, sophomores after chapel on May
Day formed the numerals of the senior class, their white dresses accented
by splashes of the class color in the form of capes or caps, kerchiefs, bal-
loons, or parasols. Beginning in 1928 "blotters" of different colors were
added, which were manipulated above the heads to form a surprise pic-
ture. At first these pictures were of simple design, a senior with a hoop,
for example, or Green Hall Tower, but they became more elaborate and,
to tell the truth, were not always easy to decipher. Blotters like hoops be-
came part of Sophomore Fathers' Day, but were discontinued, apparently
to everyone's satisfaction, after 1968.
For some years after 1895, the afternoon of May Day continued to be
a time for spontaneous fun and games. A maypole was added in 1901,
and in 1902 the choosing of a May Queen (regularly the president of the
freshman class crowned by the president of the senior class). Always there
were, in addition, balloons, a hurdy-gurdy, special costumes (Buster
Brown was everywhere in 1908), lemonade and striped ice cream, which
gave way about 1910 to ice cream cones. In some years there was a funny
baseball game between seniors and sophomores, in 1916 a game without
balls or bats between the "Bugs of Nutville" and the "Nuts of Bugville."
It was a time of merrymaking, and children from the Village came to
watch and to join in the fun. The year 1918 was an exception: the frolic
gave place to a full afternoon of making surgical dressings.
In the 1920s the afternoon program became more elaborate. The
crowning of the Queen and the maypole dance were made part of a
masque with a story-line and pretty dancers. Only one basic plot really
met all the requirements — the Cinderella theme. So in most of the pag-
eants a young prince sought for a bride, and his choice fell on the fresh-
man class president (in 1926 Virginia Onderdonk, photographed with
long golden curls and jeweled crown, sitting with her hand on the knee
of a velvet-jacketed Prince Charming). The pageant gradually became
so elaborate and so time-consuming that it competed with Tree Day,
and in 1929 a country fair, in 1930 an old English village festival was
substituted for it. (Apparently nobody thought of going back to an un-
structured play day.) For three years after this, the afternoon part of May
Day was omitted. In 1934 an attempt was made to revive a "much la-
mented custom" with a Never-Never Land which included pirates, In-
dians, crocodiles, the maypole, and the crowning of the queen. It was a
last gasp, and after this the afternoon program quietly expired.
TRADITIONS 249
Recently, after many years, spring's liberating spirit has had a rebirth
on the Wellesley campus in the form of a Spring Weekend. Similar
events occur at other colleges, and indeed have occurred at Wellesley in
the past, but according to one undergraduate, this weekend has a special
"tenor." It is "just thoroughly relaxed and thoroughly informal and
everything is free." There are movies, concerts, square dancing, and
spontaneous fun on the green. The 1973 program included a Greek festi-
val of spring (togas suggested), with beer, refreshments, and games, spon-
sored by Cazenove Hall, MIT fraternities, and other Greek freaks. And
Wellesley played host to the annual Jousting Tournament of the "Society
for Creative Anachronism." One surprising anachronism was included
in the program, a "Formal Dance," but "it drew kids in jeans and also
in long dresses, so you had a surprising contrast." The 1974 Equinox
Weekend was sponsored both by Vice President's Council and Ethos. Its
special features were a jazz concert on Severance Green, a Saturday flea
market, and all-night movies. This new Spring Weekend brings people to
the campus from other colleges; it is not the all-girl, intimate, Wellesley
affair that May Day once was, but it does seem to have the spirit of spon-
taneity and fun that marked the earliest revels.
In 1900, after the dedication of the Houghton Memorial Chapel, a
new tradition was attached to May Day — all-college singing in the eve-
ning on the chapel steps, with each class having its own special place.
Seniors were symbolically at the top until 1922 when the juniors voted
that they would keep as seniors the equally symbolic position of front and
center. For some years there were only two step-singings, the one on May
Day and another shortly before graduation. But in time they came to be
scheduled once or twice a week on pleasant fall and spring evenings
when students who were free after dinner would come together to sing
class and college songs and give their class cheers. The freshman song and
cheer were permitted only after Tree Day. Step-singing is obviously in-
tended for the satisfaction of the participants, but there was always a
group of faculty listeners, some of whom might be summoned to join one
or other of the classes. ("We want Miss X on our steps!") Recent hap-
penings were incorporated into a song, sending some prominent member
of the community "up to Academic Council." "He went up on — " What
followed was an incident or remark that the professor in question would
probably prefer to forget. Step-singing still continues, scheduled now
once in the fall and once in the spring. Class songs are a thing of the
past, but class cheers continue, some of them reported to be getting a
little "gross," with freshmen not allowed to give their cheer until the
second step-singing. Songs are usually the hits of recent Junior Shows or
very old college favorites. "It's fun," one student said, "to laugh at the
really strange old songs, some of them out of the 1920s." At the final
25O WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
step-singing, seniors, as they always have, give up their steps to the juniors
and walk slowly away while the others sing a valedictory. This is apt now
to be "Evolu" instead of the poignant step-song (date 1905):
Slowly now we go our way
With eyes that dimly see
And leave the steps alone at last
To memory, to memory.
Finally the seniors, disjoined now from the group, give the Wellesley
musical cheer (date 1886), "Tra-la-la-la," ending with a "Wellesley"
which, if atmospheric conditions are right, comes back in the form of a
havinting echo. In more sentimental days this was a moment charged with
deep feeling, and though there were always people who found it "corny,"
this very adjective suggested an emotional response. A present-day senior,
when asked about Wellesley's traditions, put step-singing at the top of
the list. "It happens," she explained, "at the beginning of the year just
when you're beginning to think Tm a member of this class' and again at
the end just when you're beginning to think Tm not a member of this
class any more.' "
Specific details of Tree Day, Float Night, May Day, are now affixed to
a more recent and immensely popular tradition, Sophomore Parents'
Weekend, which began in 1947 as Sophomore Fathers' Day. Its purpose,
from the point of view of the administration, was to give fathers, who
usually pay the bills but who tend to visit college less frequently than
mothers do, an inside view of Wellesley. Sophomores' enthusiasm is sug-
gested by titles given the event in various years: "My Pet Patriarch" 1962;
"Wonderful Wizard of Ours" 1963; "Dads and Dolls" 1968; "Thank
Heaven for Little Girls" 1971. And students put much time and ingenu-
ity into its arrangements. The program included from the beginning the
opportunity to attend classes (on Saturday morning while the College
still had a six-day schedule, then on Friday for those dads who could
arrive early), a luncheon presided over by the President with opportunity
for questions and discussion, a chance for sports, including a Father-
Daughter softball game, and in the evening the crowning event, a Father-
Daughter dance. In the first year only male members of the faculty and
administration were invited to be hosts at the luncheon and the "smoker"
that followed, to meet the fathers, presumably man to man. In 1948 a
few women were included, teachers of the "Sophomore Bible" course.
From then on sex discrimination ceased. I, for one, always enjoyed the
event when I was invited to it, although an occasional father did seem
momentarily panicked to find himself sitting next to a teacher of Greek.
While mothers were never positively excluded from the College on
Sophomore Fathers' Day, they were not exactly urged to come, as witness
TRADITIONS 25 1
a 1950 statement: "Any mothers coming with fathers may have lunch and
dinner in the dormitories at the regular prices if there is enough space
in the dining room." In 1972 Wellesley women suddenly realized that
women (their own mothers) were being discriminated against, and the
event was changed to a Sophomore Parents' Weekend. The program
(whether for fathers or for parents) has varied through the years, includ-
ing lectures and panel discussions, sports, concerts, dramatic events
(Shakespeare, Greek and modern drama) and a coffee hour with the
faculty. In 1974 the "Spirit of '76" offered an opportunity to attend Jew-
ish Sabbath dinner and Newman Club Mass as well as the College
Chapel Service. Three continuing ancient rituals gave parents a glimpse
into college traditions: hoop rolling, dedication of the class tree (embel-
lished by dancing and by Mrs. Lefkowitz's "Tree Day Lecture"), and
crew races between fathers and daughters. A buffet for parents and sopho-
mores on the President's lawn replaced the exclusive luncheon for fathers.
And the traditional Father-Daughter dance on Saturday night became a
Parent-Daughter dance, where today's sophomores generously shared
their dates with their mothers.
Since Wellesley spring weather is unpredictable, rain (or high wind)
has sometimes altered slightly the planned activities of a Fathers' Day
or proved totally destructive to a Float Night. Wellesley winter weather
is even less reliable, and valiant attempts to establish a tradition of win-
ter festivals have met with only intermittent success. Ice carnivals began
as early as 1901, with bonfires, a band, a hurdy-gurdy, sometimes fire-
works, always hot cocoa and coffee. They could be very gay, but there
was always the possibility mentioned in the 1912 Legenda:
It's "The Ice is fine," "I've asked six men," "I knew that it would freeze."
But at half past seven promptly there is slush up to your knees.
Beginning in 1921 Outing Club sponsored winter carnivals for which
skating exhibitions, ski-joring, tobogganing, "yarting" were planned
and frequently postponed. A history of carnivals in News 1949 noted in
certain years "good time — all indoors," "ice — no snow," "snow, unusually
cold," "difficult to get girls away from steam heat." In 1948, Winter Car-
nival became Winter Carousel with elaborate plans for a whole weekend,
including torchlight parades, winter sports, snow sculpture, square and
formal dances, movies — "multiple events for all weathers." Gradually
the outdoor activities were eliminated and the winter weekend disap-
peared — until February 14-17, 1974, when it was reborn as a "Winter
Whatchamacallit" with ski night, Vil Junior Mixer (live music, all beer
and coke free), art show, food fest and Casino Royale (phoney money the
only legal tender). A News editorial, applauding the new Wellesley week-
end, quoted a comment made by a Harvard student to a "misplaced
252 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Wellesleyite in Cambridge": "What are you doing here? I heard that
this is a big weekend on your campus."
The traditions we have so far discussed are all social in origin, rooted
in the wish to please one's self and others. The only anti-social element
discernible is the prying by sophomores into freshman Tree Day secrets.
But we must now admit that there were also certain early rites akin to
black magic, which were aimed at nothing less than the death of an aca-
demic course: Math Burial, Drowning of Philosophy Theses, and the
one which endured the longest, Forensic Burning. This tradition re-
quired the cremation by the junior class president or, in case of her en-
forced absence, the vice president of her "forensic," the culminating
piece of work in English 3, "Argumentative Composition: Forensics pre-
ceded by briefs," required in junior year from 1883 to 1905. The act had
to be performed on the Wellesley campus, in the presence of a stipulated
number of the class (at one time twenty) out of hearing of the sophomore
cheer. If the juniors succeeded (and it would seem that they always did),
they held a funeral procession (ghost walk) in the evening — white-robed
mourners with flickering candles wending their way across the campus
chanting a Latin dirge. Even when the junior requirement was dropped,
the tradition went happily on, substituting a "forensic" (or merely its
title page) from a required sophomore course. What mattered was the
battle of wits, the game of hare and hounds between juniors and sopho-
mores. Some faculty members approved of Forensic Burning as inducive
to a spirit of class unity, others felt it "lowered the college standard." The
time allowed for it was gradually reduced until in 1913, after a threat to
ban it completely, the time for action was limited to the hours between
4: 15 and 9:30 on a day to be selected in the morning by a public challenge
from the juniors.
Many early letters show the intensity and ingenuity that were ex-
pended on this ritual. A junior in 1907 described to her mother how the
class president, beset by the enemy, escaped to Wellesley Hills to spend
the night with friends who drove her back in a team at 2:30 in the morn-
ing. Both classes roamed the campus from three o'clock on, setting and
following false trails until "over a hundred of 1908 were enabled to get
into the Barn without being seen, and in the Barn courtyard in a corner
the fire was lighted." The writer cautioned her mother not to read these
words aloud to anyone and gloated, "It was so easy; not a single fight."
In 1909 the strategy was different. For twenty-five dollars the junior class
chartered an engine and two cars from the Boston and Albany to convey
them from Framingham to the Woods Paint Factory. Where the spur
track crossed a part of the Wellesley campus, the forensic was burned at
eleven o'clock in the morning, totally frustrating the sophomores who
had had no inkling of the means or the place or the hour.
TRADITIONS 253
From other letters and especially from talk with alumnae friends, I
have a kaleidoscopic picture of later plotting and sleuthing: master
strategists marking off maps of the campus in squares to make sure that
every hour and every area would be covered by cheering sophomores,
private eyes assigned to shadow junior officers day and night, a bicycle
scout following a suspect laundry wagon, "cheering her young head off."
For the junior president there was always the fear of kidnapping; one
vice president missed the whole exciting day, isolated in a Needham
garden from which she could, if necessary, be summoned as a stand-in.
Masks were used, presidential doubles or even triples confused the pur-
suers, clothes were quickly changed in society houses. It was a mad, mad
scrimmage, but the end was near. The last class to have the sophomore
English requirement was 1918; the last Forensic Burning took place in
their junior year on November 8, 1916. Rumors were rife and cheering
sophomores were deployed at all strategic points. But when a funeral
procession passed by West Lodge the scouts in that area fell reverently
silent. As all eyes followed the hearse, the junior president, who had
been hidden in the cottage, emerged swiftly, setting fire to her forensic.
Simultaneously the requisite number of 1918 witnesses leaned out of the
funeral hacks and cheered loudly — the junior cheer. The ghost walk to
commemorate this last death and burial of a forensic was appropriately
"the most effective" Wellesley had ever seen. The processional of sheeted
ghosts with candles sang the Latin dirge, formed a perfect W, then stick-
ing lighted sparklers in the ground, they moved away to leave a W of
light which burned brilliantly for several minutes.
The class rivalry of Forensic Burning was similar in its battle of wits
to the more recent Freshman Banner Hunt which for decades exercised
the ingenuity of freshman and sophomore classes. Another class rivalry,
more sporadic since it depended on brawn instead of brain, was a tug-of-
war between juniors and sophomores, the sole purpose of which was to
force the rival team into Longfellow Pond. But it is fair to say that there
have always been courteous exchanges too between classes: parties, re-
ceptions, song contests, and perhaps the most colorful of these friendly
traditions, the sophomore and freshman serenades, held on two evenings
in the early fall. For many years while freshmen lived in the Village, long
lines of white-dressed sophomores with bobbing lanterns made their way
to the Village to sing at all the freshman houses, and the following week
the freshmen returned the compliment on the campus. There were years
too when seniors regularly serenaded the rest of the College "with an
appropriate song for every district," at the close of Tree Day. The News
in 1913 said "It is always a sight which causes us a few pangs of regret,
as we watch them pass in cap and gown, with lanterns held high." (I am
reminded, parenthetically, of another serenade, when the college choir,
254 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
after Christmas vespers, used to carol outside the faculty apartments, Hor-
ton, Hallowell and Shepard. We always greeted them with candles in
every window and usually with a Christmas tree in the snow-covered
court. The choir still sings Christmas carols for the President, perhaps
for the faculty too, but without, I am sure, the multitudinous flickering
candles.)
Besides Forensic Burning another quasi-academic event involved se-
crecy since only three-fifths of the College was allowed to witness it. This
was the senior version of Academic Council which, so far as I can find
out (notices are scarce), began in 1920 and lasted into the late 1940s. Fac-
ulty meetings were a matter of great mystery to the students, so they
enacted the scene as they imagined it, with president, deans, and profes-
sors engaged in formal, but very active debate. (Little did they know the
proportion of time given to lengthy committee reports and the number
of recommendations that were adopted without discussion.) The question
raised was unimportant — a faculty prom with student chaperones, for
example, or the adoption of knickers by the faculty. The object of the
show was to reveal with wit and sometimes sympathetic humor, the man-
nerisms and the quirks of mind of the people who were impersonated.
Some faculty members were willing to lend characteristic pieces of cloth-
ing, and laughed when they saw themselves being closely watched in
class, but neither they nor freshmen were admitted to the program. Al-
ways of course there were some gate-crashers. Twice in my early years at
Wellesley senior students smuggled me in, disguised by means of a simple
bandana, and I must confess I relished the mimicry of my older col-
leagues. A writer in News once made a very interesting comment on this
tradition: "As sport it is a bit cruel, as sport ought to be at best, and we
like it." One reason for giving up Senior Academic Council was the pro-
duction of the original faculty plays which began in 1944. The faculty
were so ingenious in capitalizing on their own eccentricities that the stu-
dents could never hope to rival these self-caricatures. Today student
representatives attend Academic Council, the mystery is gone, so the
tradition can never be revived.
Of all the dramatic events that have taken place on the Wellesley cam-
pus, three have a peculiarly Wellesley flavor that makes them "tradi-
tions": Faculty Show, Junior Show, and Greek Play. By Faculty Show I
mean the remarkable series of plays produced every fourth year (Leap
Year) between 1944 and 1960. It is difficult to describe them; they had to
be seen to be believed. Before 1944 there had been other faculty plays,
very early ones in which Miss Bates, Miss Woolley, a member of the Bible
Department who later became president of Mount Holyoke College, and
Miss Pendleton played such roles as the Princesses Freshmania and Soph-
omoria and Prince Harvardius, and there had been at times more con-
TRADITIONS 255
ventional dramas, three of them given in connection with alumnae-spon-
sored Tradition Nights, "The Man Who Married a Dumb Wife" in
1928, "The Rose and the Ring" in 1931, and some of Maurice Baring's
"Diminutive Dramas" in 1934. But the 1944-1960 plays were different.
Written by Katharine Balderston and Katherine Lever of the English
Department (with many collaborators), they featured the President, the
Deans, and a high percentage of the faculty playing themselves, meeting
fantastic situations in Academic Council, planning outrageous curricula,
or being nastily competitive in try-outs for plays which might placate
rebellious students. One unforgettable number was repeated in all five
plays — a men's ballet in which the male members of the faculty, dressed
as Ocean Nymphs (courtesy of the Greek Department) did extraordinary
figures, counting conscientiously as they danced, the tallest of them able
to cross the stage in three enormous leaps. And in all five plays Latin
Professor Margaret Taylor did long scenes standing on her head. Perform-
ances were crowded and it seemed as if the laughter might reach some
decibel that would shatter Alumnae Hall. The 1944 Legenda said, "For
three solid hours we laughed as we had never laughed before." And a
1952 News editorial called the show "a morale booster and the high
point in our collegiate life." One may wonder why so popular a tradition
suddenly came to an end. In 1960 in the glow of the successful "Lunatik
LX", it was assumed that in the next Leap Year the play would go on, but
by 1964, although College Government petitioned the Academic Council
for another Faculty Show, no individual or group came forward to take
responsibility for such a production. There seemed to be a general feeling
among the faculty that the time was no longer ripe for such diversions,
that "concerned" students of the middle sixties would no longer want to
laugh with quite such abandon at foibles of their own little community.
Junior Show is probably the most popular event in Wellesley's present-
day calendar. Its origin, according to News, was a "spontaneous combus-
tion" in the spring of 1936. "Spang [Virginia Spangler] and Putzie [Hin-
richs] and the Shafer crowd — it was their idea." The junior class would
produce a "modern musical show with original music, dialogue and
dances." It would be a first at Wellesley and — their prevision was clear —
the beginning of a long tradition. The show "In One Ear and Gone To-
morrow" played on November 6, 1936, to the "biggest crowd Alumnae
Hall had ever seen." The plot was simple — the ingenious efforts of a
heroine who sought to combine a whirling social life with high academic
marks. Rehearsals had been limited to three. The orchestra, assembled
for the occasion, had never before played jazz. But (I hope all later classes
will forgive me) I remember it as the best Junior Show I ever saw — only
an hour long, the dialogue cram-packed with Wellesley humor, the tunes
gay and hummable. And the censors, viewing the dress rehearsal, could
256 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
find only one point to criticize — Katharine Campbell's shorts had to be
let down one inch.
Since 1936 there have been nearly forty Junior Shows, many of them
with fascinating titles: The Taming of the Few, Phoney Island, The
Devil to Pay, Queendom Come, One Knight's Stand, Raisin Hell. Com-
mittees each year meet on Cape Cod before college opens to hammer out
a scenario, dialogue, lyrics, tunes. Some committees set the action in a
locale vaguely resembling Wellesley; others deliberately eschew all college
material. Some aim primarily at laughs; others seek social relevance.
When college opens in the fall, many more juniors get into the act. Those
who don't sing or dance or perform help with production, promotion,
ushering. Whatever the script is, it changes as the group works on it to-
gether, and suddenly there is a new enthusiastic feeling of being a junior
class with a Junior Show which is always the best yet (except of course
for the first one!).
When I wrote about "Greek Plays at Wellesley" in 1962 for the Alum-
nae Magazine, I confidently assigned their origin to 1934. I was familiar
of course with the long tradition of Greek tragedies performed by the
society Alpha Kappa Chi and knew of Greek plays presented by Barn-
swallows and the Wellesley College Theatre. But these were in English
and according to my definition, a Greek play is a play in Greek. Recently
I have found that our productions were anticipated in 1908 and 1909
when Iphigenia in Tauris and Iphigenia at Aulis were played in the
original language by AKX in an amphitheatre-like hollow in the orchard,
with a thick screen of fir trees as background. The choruses (always a
problem in modern productions) were chanted in unison, unaccompa-
nied, and were pronounced by the critics "altogether delightful."
The series that started in 1934 arose from a spontaneous student de-
mand. The first play was the Trojan Women, with original music com-
posed by students, and masks created by Agnes Abbot's studio course in
Art. President Pendleton, who showed a great interest in the project, had
the ground below the south terrace of Alumnae Hall transformed into a
playing area with a background screen of arborvitae. The audience sat
on tarpaulins on the slope above. (This in rudimentary form was the
Hay Outdoor Theatre, completed in 1936.) Reviews called the Trojan
Women "one of the most unusual events of the college year" and pro-
nounced it a work of art. Euripides' lyrical poetry and his picture of
women whose city has been destroyed by war carried its message even to
those in the audience who knew no Greek. Nature cooperated, drawing a
cloud across the sun as the child victim was carried to burial on his
father's shield.
The Greek Play has never been established as a regular annual event.
Every time that it happens is a new birth of tragedy (or comedy) engen-
TRADITIONS 257
dered by the enthusiasm of the current Greek students. Notice that this
enthusiasm has not slackened but has quickened in recent years. In the
years from 1934 to 1974 there were twenty-six productions, six of them
in the last seven years (with a symposium on Euripides in the off year).
The themes of Greek drama strike today's students as important: war
horrors, vengeance, ecstatic frenzy, civil disobedience, even "women's lib."
And with their own creative music and dance, they give a contemporary
ring to the ancient Greek verse.
With one exception the plays are given in the Hay Outdoor Theatre,
weather permitting, otherwise in Alumnae Hall or Jewett. The Frogs (of
which there have been five productions) takes place naturally in the Rec-
reation Building Swimming Pool, where Charon's ferry makes the jour-
ney to the Lower World harassed by frogs swimming, diving, chanting
bre-ke-ke-kex ko-ax ko-ax. In the 1954 Frogs Mrs. Lefkowitz as a freshman
played the slave Xanthias, the first of her many stellar performances in
Greek plays. And I had the bit part of an Underworld landlady which
I "hammed" into a major role by wearing a red wig and green costume
and reciting Greek with an Irish accent. Greek plays always attract an
audience of classical scholars, eager to listen to the ancient language. At
a performance of the Frogs it is especially gratifying to have some people
actually laughing on lines, and not merely on "business."
Through the years some performances have had special associations:
Prometheus 1936, given as part of Guest Day in honor of Miss Pendleton's
retirement, Agamemnon 1943, which raised fourteen hundred dollars for
Greek War Relief, the Trojan Women 1960, presented before the Classical
Association of New England, and the 1969 Bacchae which was later dis-
cussed by members of the cast on a Channel 2 TV program. In recent
years the Greek Play has been scheduled on Sophomore Fathers' Day
(sometimes repeated too for alumnae reunion weekend). Interestingly,
fathers at another college were shocked by the earthy language of the
Lysistrata given in English, but Wellesley fathers concentrated with ap-
proval on the colorful production and the modern themes — otherwise
to most of them it was all Greek.
Before I embarked on this chapter, Miss Glasscock and I had a long
discussion with three undergraduates on their views of Wellesley tradi-
tions. We talked of course of such events as step-singing and hoop-rolling
and Junior Show. But for the sophomore her "favorite moment of the
whole year" was the opening convocation with the faculty in their color-
ful regalia, seniors making their first appearance in academic gowns, and
the sense of a community meeting together. To the freshman the "excit-
ing thing" had been Mrs. Newell's talk which gave, she felt, a sense of
direction to the year ahead. Looking back, I realize that Opening Convo-
cation has always been the President's moment, her opportunity to wel-
258 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
come new faculty and students and to share with the College some of her
ideas on Wellesley's immediate priorities.
For a long time there was a second formal convocation with academic
procession, held in the spring. This was Honors Chapel at which an-
nouncements were made of Phi Beta Kappa and Sigma Xi elections and
of Durant and Wellesley College Scholars. Indeed in 1927 these distin-
guished students walked in the procession behind the faculty, a public
honor protested on the ground that successful students "should find
sufficient reward in the work they accomplish." Beginning in 1931 presi-
dents of neighboring colleges and other outstanding scholars were in-
vited to address Honors Chapel, and the occasion continued to be a pop-
ular tradition until the late 1960s. At this time many students were
questioning grades as a measure of college accomplishment, and with this
feeling came protests against public honors for distinctions based on
grades. In 1969 and 1970, the attendance at Honors Chapel was pitifully
small, and the tradition came to an end.
Early in the conversation on traditions with our three student inform-
ants, the senior surprised me by announcing with great firmness, "One of
my favorite things in the whole world is Christmas dinner." And the
others agreed that it is "just terrific, having tablecloths on the table and
candlelight and figgy pudding with holly." They went on to talk with
enthusiasm of the Christmas traditions in the various dormitories: "Se-
cret Santa" or "Spider and Fly" involving anonymous gifts and friendly
tricks that go on for a week until identities are revealed at the Christmas
party, lines of robed seniors with candles, special Christmas readings and
"skits," exchange of gifts which in some houses are toys to be sent after-
wards to children in hospitals. The dormitory to these students is a
"close-knit community" with traditions that are in some ways more im-
portant to them than the larger college rituals. They spoke for example
of Tower Court's and Munger's birthday parties. But their greatest en-
thusiasm was reserved for dormitory tea which occurs every Wednesday
afternoon, and which "gets the kids together and gives everyone a chance
to socialize informally." The senior remembered that in her sophomore
year "which was not a big year for traditions" the institution of tea was
threatened and that immediately in every dormitory petitions appeared
spontaneously which everybody signed. Tea was saved, with one com-
promise, that there would be homemade cookies only every other week.
Alumnae will, I hope, be reassured by this final report that Wellesley
students, with their cafeteria meals and their informal clothes, still
have a latent concern for one of the College's oldest traditions, "gracious
living."
.. ,•-«.._—• — * '{oar i jai.«*
* &. * * a a."*; a TP! ! i
S^f!??^ f4*T ■"' * ^"
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f. i v »
Early Tree Day: Procession of the Classes led by the Tree Day mistress.
Tree Day 1948:
classes forming the traditional W.
The Tree Day spade
used since 1879.
Maypole dance in front of College Hall, from the 1914 Legenda.
May Day 1909: senior numerals formed on the east side of College Hall.
Early May Day: rolling hoops around the "circle."
^ \ As) «_l.
5 n >
Hoop rolling: from 1935 Legenda.
Hoop rolling: the winner, 1937.
Float Day 1897: boats forming the traditional star.
May Day 1914: scrubbing the library steps.
Float Night 1947, the last year of Float:
Hansel and Gretel.
Forensic Burning as depicted in the 1908 Legenda.
Faculty Show 1948: singing group left to right, Margaret
Torbert Duesenberry '46, Mildred McAfee Horton, Char-
lotte Williams, Alice Birmingham Robinson '46, Mary E.
Chase, Harriet R. Creighton '29.
Freshman Serenade: from the
1935 Legenda.
Faculty Show 1948: Katharine Balderston laughs and Barbara McCarthy shows indif-
ference to the handstand performed by Latin Professor Margaret Taylor.
Junior Show 1975: "Out of the Closet and into My Life."
Greek Play: Prometheus Bound in 1936, presented in honor of President Pendleton's retirement.
The Hunnewell gondola, which, according to a student in 1898, lent "a
special dignity to the scene of the Float." Bought in the 1860s, it was
sometimes used to shoot off fireworks on Float Night.
Float Night
from the 1935 Legenda.
Ice Carnival, from Wellesley Stories 1903
«*##
Step singing on the chapel steps.
"God is love," the theme of the first Sun-
day chapel service (Flower Sunday).
"Going through Harriet" (Harriet Mar
tineau) from the 1913 Legenda.
HARRIET B. CREIGHTON
The Grounds
In 1971 the College was awarded a "Large Gold Medal" that is given
occasionally by the Massachusetts Horticultural Society. With it came the
following citation: "For its four hundred and fifty acre campus planting
which, started nearly a century ago, combines into a delightfully informal
landscape. This includes the plantings of special courtyards, memorial
class trees, and the Alexandra Botanic Garden."
A short citation cannot mention all the facets of landscape plans of
the campus. As we examine what has evolved since the 1860s we will see
that there is more than the special courtyards in the Hazard Quadrangle
and the Tower Court groups of dormitories. The Class Trees, very com-
monly not native to the campus, are not the only exotic specimen trees.
And in addition to the Alexandra Botanic Garden, the first endowed
planting on the campus, reference could well have been made to the
Hunnewell Arboretum, also endowed. It is clear, however, that whoever
wrote the citation for the Committee on Gardens knew a great deal
about the college grounds and appreciated the long-continued adherence
to a plan of development based upon the inherent natural beauty of
the land.
The Beginnings
Soon after Mr. and Mrs. Durant bought the Bullard farmhouse and the
surrounding fields, meadows, and woodlands, they began to develop a
country estate. The college grounds were once farmland and hunting
grounds of the Natick Indians whose Chief Waban we memorialize in
the name of the lake. These lands when taken over by the early settlers
were farmed where possible, with much of the timber removed for build-
ings and for firewood. Before long many fields, abandoned as the never
very fertile soil was impoverished, became meadows. A second growth
265
266 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
of trees, oaks and chestnuts, became established on the denuded hills. A
few stands of white pines and Canada hemlocks either remained or be-
came reestablished in places favorable to their growth. By the 1850s,
much better agricultural and timber land having been found to the west,
land like that of the campus was best fitted for country estates of winter
city-dwellers like the Durants. A few cows could be grazed in the moist
meadows. Orchards could be set out on some slopes. And vegetable gar-
dens to supply amply the owner's family and the families of the farm
laborers could be cultivated. Water was available from plentiful under-
ground sources, and sewage disposal was no problem with slow seepage
into the lake.
The transformation of the sandy, gravelly, glacially-deposited land into
a country estate was a formidable task. There had to be a plan carried
out bit by bit as money was available. President Caroline Hazard in her
Report for 1904 reminded the Trustees that "Anyone who is familiar
with the conduct of a large country estate knows that there is an excel-
lent opportunity of sinking any amount of money in it." And, as one
very familiar with such matters, she noted that "Though many admire
the moss in the lawns, these plants are a sign of the need for soil im-
provement that must at some time be met."
There is no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Durant were designing an "in-
formal landscape," which might seem to be a contradiction in terms
unless one recalls that landscape gardening from the times of the Assyri-
ans and the Babylonians had been what we now call "formal." The shift
away from straight, level roads, walled or hedged enclosures, shaped trees,
rectangular pools, and flower gardens was made by the English in the
late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.
It seems certain that the Durants were influenced by the thinking of
Andrew Jackson Downing, this country's first landscape architect and
the person who introduced here the new "English" style and described
it in a book published in 1841. He pointed out that in the suburbs of
Boston "a far greater number of elegant country seats are to be found
than in any other small neighborhood of the Union." While in all like-
lihood Mr. Durant would have been familiar with at least some of these
estates, he very definitely would have observed the landscaping of "Welles-
ley," the estate of his neighbor, Horatio Hollis Hunnewell, most of which
was being developed in the English style. As early as 1854, the year the
Durants first occupied their summer cottage, a part of the Hunnewell
property had been terraced and planned as an Italian topiary garden, and
a description and pictures of the estate were contained in the sixth edi-
tion of Downing's book published in 1859. In explaining "the modern,
natural, irregular" English style, Downing remarked on the dignity and
majesty in an old oak, the gracefulness and luxuriance of a fine sweeping
THE GROUNDS 267
elm, a natural group of trees, an accidental pond, smooth lawns, firm
gravel roads and walks, entrance lodges, hothouses and gardens, garden
seats or benches where the view is fine — on a large body of water, if pos-
sible. Anyone who has seen the Wellesley campus will recognize the
vision which Mr. and Mrs. Durant must have had when they employed
landscape gardeners to transform an abandoned farm into a country
estate, an estate which within six years would be developed into the
grounds of a college.
The Roads
The laying out of the roads was the first and most important step. The
decision was to have the "principal" road come in from Washington
Street through entrance gates in a stone wall with an adjacent Gothic
gatehouse, East Lodge. The graveled road was planted with American
elms and English purple beeches for shade and dignity. The beeches,
which only now are reaching their mature beauty, were admired by all
who came to Wellesley by the original main road and still are admired
by those who walk the old road or who see them from Bates, Freeman,
and McAfee. (As the result of careful siting, only two of the original
beeches had to be felled to make room for those dormitories.) The elms,
like most of the others originally planted along the roads, have nearly
all succumbed to the fungal elm disease. Those that remain are zealously
cared for. The sugar maples and thornless locusts that have replaced
them are among the best possible substitutes, but no other tree can equal
the American elm for gracefully over-arching a road.
The main road passed along the southern slope of Bullard's Hill (later
known as Water Tower Hill) through an old cleared field having the
remnants of an apple orchard. A clump of Norway spruces was planted
just before the place at which a passageway was cut through a grove of
native Canada hemlocks. Enough of these hemlocks remain to justify still
calling this part of the road "Christmas Tree Alley," as it was named by
the early students. After passing through the hemlocks to the level of the
meadow, the road encountered a cart road that came from the cow barn,
sheep barn, and stable. The other end of this farm service road, as shown
on the earliest map of the campus, went from the stables past the green-
house to the farmhouse (Homestead) and out to Washington Street
through a simple gate in the stone wall. Elms must have been planted
along it at an early date because the ones remaining are as large as any on
the campus. Straightened and widened after Mrs. Durant's greenhouses
were removed in 1925, this road is now the southeastern end of the main
road through the campus. (One part of a Wellesley road, like some of
Boston's streets, follows old cow paths!)
268 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
The plantings where the main road and this service road met may well
date from the 1870s because the English hawthorns and Japanese flower-
ing quinces which are still there were very popular at that time. The
plantings that screened the barns from view are very old. The two large
Japanese flowering cherry trees, set off by several varieties of Japanese
Chamaecyparises, are of the same kinds that were planted on the Hun-
newell estate. They may have been a gift from Mr. Hunnewell, for there
were few places from which to buy these trees that had been imported
only recently. He may also have given Mr. Durant some of the rhododen-
drons and mountain laurels at the base of the hill on which Stone-Davis
now stands; they are old enough to date from the early days, planted
there as Downing recommended as "an enhancement of natural beauty."
Doubtless Mr. Hunnewell presented Mr. Durant with many more trees
and shrubs than the golden larches which provided the impetus for the
first Tree Day.
When the death of young Harry Durant led to planning for a college
rather than an estate, Mr. and Mrs. Durant abandoned the plan to build
a manor house for him on the hill where Stone and Davis Halls now
stand and they selected as the site for the main college building the large
hilltop farther around the lake. The principal road was therefore ex-
tended west from the juncture of the farm road and the road from East
Lodge. It followed the high ground below the north slope of what to us
is Stone-Davis Hill. Below and across the road from it was the swampy
meadow, edged with wild yellow cowslips, where the farm animals
grazed, the area which the early students called "cowslip farm." Although
as early as 1888 drains were installed, according to a map of that date,
it continues to be the marshiest meadow on the campus. During the days
of horse-drawn mowers many were stuck there when cutting and raking
hay. Even today the groundsmen using tractor-drawn machines find it a
quagmire. This section of the old road is now a level lawn between the
original Norway spruces and the more recently planted Colorado blue
spruces, some of them Class Trees. The new main road built in 1961 was
swung out into the drier edge of the meadow, where it passes old Norway
spruces and flowering cherry trees, one given to the students of Wellesley
by the Japanese International Christian University Foundation in 1953
in appreciation of gifts received from Wellesley's Service Organization.
The Class of 1976 planted its cherry tree there, also.
A section of the original main road is still in use in front of the Chapel.
Farther along, below Founders Hall, the old road was removed and
grassed over in 1961. On the lake side of it in a low-lying area Mr. Du-
rant had planted a large group of rhododendrons. Later they served as
the backdrop for the first outdoor theatre with the audience sitting on
the grassy hillside below the present site of Founders Hall.
THE GROUNDS 269
As the first students, faculty, and visitors who came from the railroad
station, through East Lodge Gate, and along the graveled road curving
between the hills and skirting the meadow, arrived at Rhododendron
Hollow, they suddenly caught sight of College Hall. One of Downing's
admonitions for the proper landscape gardening of rural estates was that
from the time the great house had been seen it should not be lost sight
of until reached — and no flowers or architectural features should be
permitted to distract the eye. This dictum was followed completely:
between the viewer and the magnificent building on the hilltop, which
was still clothed with giant oaks, was only a great rolling lawn, the only
lawn on the original campus. Called first "College Hall Green," then
"Tower Court Green," and now "Severance Green," it has been the
scene of pageants, Tree Day ceremonies, reunion parades, and the inaugu-
ration of President Adams. Only once was the view of Lake Waban from
the road or the lawn impaired: in 1893 a boathouse was erected on the
shore, but it was torn down in 1901, the second year of Miss Hazard's
administration. She once remarked that "The lake shore is our most
beautiful possession, and no building which would endanger its beauty
can be placed upon it."
Beyond a small tree-covered hillock, in a depression between the lawn
and the lake, Mr. Durant built what Downing called "a piece of artifi-
cial water." In it was installed a fountain that could not be seen from the
road. The evening the fountain was first to be used, Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow was invited to come from Cambridge for the ceremonies
planned by the students. Although disappointed when at the last mo-
ment he could not come for the occasion, they named the pond for him.
A few years later it became a muddy, silted-in swale over which the fresh-
man-sophomore tug-of-war was held, the losers being pulled through the
slime. In the early 1930s the fountain was repaired and the pond ce-
mented to hold the water level. When an addition to the library was
made in the late 1950s, it was moved slightly westward, and with the
completion in 1975 of the west addition to the Margaret Clapp Library,
the building will be cantilevered over Longfellow Pond, which is being
somewhat enlarged and formalized so that it will retain its importance
in the landscape. With all of these modifications, it remains "a piece of
artificial water" and bears the name of the poet who frequently visited
the College in its early years. The final portion of the original principal
road, still in use to Tower Court, followed the easiest grade for horse-
drawn vehicles up the end of College Hall hill to a driveway circling
through the porte cochere of the building.
As the College has developed, roads have come and gone, gained and
lost importance. The service road near the barns of the estate became a
part of the main road of the College. Another, built to carry supplies for
270 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
the construction of College Hall and abandoned when the building was
completed, has been restored in part. This road started at Central Street
near West Lodge; the person who lived in this gatehouse checked in the
materials which were unloaded from a railway siding and were taken by
wagon to the building site. After crossing an open field, now the archery
range and hockey fields, the road went through the woods to the level
of the lake at the place where the little brook runs into the Inlet Cove.
From there it skirted the base of College Hall hill and joined the main
road up to the building. The present road from the little brook to
Shakespeare House follows closely the line of the last section of the old
wagon road.
Not much of the little tree-lined brook is visible today. It drained
the meadow and the College Hall sewage beds until they were removed.
Later it carried the effluent from the boilers of the Central Heating and
Lighting Plant built in 1902. Finally in the 1950s it was encased in con-
crete pipes and located beneath the parking lot for the Service Building.
Until then, always enriched by mineral nutrients from the sewage or the
boilers, it had been a favorite collecting place for botanists and zoologists.
By the time its waters reached the lake, they were purified and added few,
if any, stimulants to the growth of weeds in the cove. When encased so
that no plants removed any chemicals, its outpouring fertilized water
weeds, and their rank growth became hazardous to swimmers and a
nuisance to the oarsmen. Unwittingly the College had brought upon
itself one of the few ecological problems it has had to face.
On the map of 1875 is shown a service road thought of as permanent
that entered the grounds from Central Street nearer the Village than
did the temporary road at West Lodge. Later officially called "North
Road," it was early known as the "coal road" because over it were hauled
wagon loads of coal for the College Hall boiler plant. Used not only for
deliveries but for rapid access to the central campus, North Road was
in service until 1961. Its gatehouse was erected in 1896 and was torn
down in 1932 in preparation for the building of Munger Hall. The spur
once planned from it to North Road was never constructed; Munger has
always been the only dormitory not directly connected by motor road
with the campus. One segment of the old road still exists and is a part
of the main campus road: the section around the base of Norumbega
Hill.
Two other old service roads have had very different fates, although
each of them at one time was elevated to the status of principal road. One
went from the Power House to a hill on Central Street that was a source
of sand and gravel and, when that was removed, became known as the
"Gravel Pit" and is now the parking .lot for Alumnae Hall and the Haz-
ard Quadrangle. With the building of those dormitories, the road was
THE GROUNDS
271
extended to provide an exit to Central Street, and there was only a spur
into the "Gravel Pit." In 1961 the old cart path, moved a few feet to the
west, became the only entrance from Central Street and a part of the
main road through the campus. On the other hand, also in 1961, what
had been the main road entering from Central Street — and, indeed, had
been considered the principal entrance to the campus — became a foot
path from Central Street to the spur leading to the Observatory and
Sage Hall. Its origin was humble: it was initially a cart path from the
barns to a small field that is now part of the Hunnewell Arboretum and
the Alexandra Botanic Garden. Its rise to prominence began when the
first Hunnewell School was moved to the campus and remodeled for use
as a dormitory, Fiske House, and the road was extended to Central
Street. When for that entrance to the campus (by then known as Fiske
Road) the Class of 1916 presented impressive gates reminiscent of those
used for English country estates, naturally enough it was regarded as
the main approach to the College. With its importance, and traffic, fur-
ther increased in the early 1930s by the closing of the earliest principal
road through the gates by East Lodge, Fiske became one of the most
dangerous roads on the campus and a major reason for revising the
system of campus roads. The handsome gates remain, now opening onto
a lovely footpath into the campus (provision was made for its use by
firetrucks in an emergency), and the adjacent area has become the "bird
refuge" that it was designated on the campus plans of the 1920s. One
reminder of the farm path's origin remains: Gray House, labeled on old
maps "laborers cottage."
When the whole system of roads was revised in 1961, thanks to part
of a matching grant from the Ford Foundation, a dream of many years
was finally realized. As early as 1907 Miss Hazard had pointed out to the
trustees that "The roads were laid out for carriages. Now that automo-
biles come rushing over them, they demand attention, as in places they
are dangerously narrow. Some of the angles at which roads cross each
other ... do not allow enough space for the many carriages which
have to go through the grounds." Over the years some improvements
were made, but as additional parts of the campus were opened up and
automobiles rushed over the roads in numbers and at speeds that would
have been inconceivable in 1907, the situation became very serious. It
was aggravated by the ever-increasing number of large trucks delivering
supplies (and damaging the roads as well as causing traffic jams) and by
motorists who found campus roads tempting shortcuts between Central
and Washington Streets. A fortunate combination of circumstances en-
abled the College to convert the Lake Waban Laundry building beyond
the Central Street playing fields into a Distribution Center where ten-
wheel trucks could unload bulk supplies. The college roads therefore
272 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
did not have to be widened and straightened to handle this traffic and
instead could be simplified and beautified. The work was carried out un-
der the direction of Umberto Innocenti and Richard Webel, landscape
architects well known in New York and Washington, although the plan
was essentially the concept of President Clapp. Among the happiest ideas
of the landscape architects were the widening and straightening of the
road near the Quadrangle and the placing of sugar maples and flowering
crabapples alongside it, and the large Katsura trees designed to make the
end of Beebe look as if it were rooted on the hill. Of course, from the
point of view of safety and security, the closing of all but two entrances
to the central campus was of paramount importance.
There is now, as there was in 1875, only one main road through the
campus, although there are striking differences in the two roads, as the
campus maps indicate. A hundred years ago the road wound its way
from East Lodge on Washington Street to "the College," as College Hall
was known, and the whole northern and western sections of the campus
were woods and wetlands; now the main road, College Road, winds
through the campus from Central Street near the Quadrangle to the
entrance from Washington Street between Homestead and the Wellesley
College Club. Off it branch side roads providing access to various build-
ings. By eliminating some parts of the road existing before 1961 — notably
those on Norumbega Hill, between Tower Court Hill and the Library,
near Fiske, and below Stone Davis — , some of the original simplicity of
the design has been restored and additional areas on the campus have
again become the province of pedestrians.
The Paths
Most people know the campus as pedestrians, and since the fall of 1875
the paths have had charm as well as usefulness. (Miss Pendleton often
said that she didn't lay out walks — she observed where students made
paths and she then provided appropriate surfaces.) It was not long before
the early students wore paths through the woods, up to hilltops, skirting
swampy meadows and along the lake shore. Some are still dirt paths;
some have evolved from dirt to cinder, to plank, to asphalt or pebbled
concrete; some became roads. Others are lost, probably because they
were obliterated by a building or led to an area which is no longer at-
tractive. It is hard to imagine that once there were so many wild flowers
that students could pick all they wished and take them to their rooms. In
fact, one reason that there is no more arbutus nor columbine nor lady-
slipper orchid is that they picked too many. Where was "Lupine Path"?
Where was the "Violet Lawn"? Where was "Tanglewood Path" which
Katharine Lee Bates said led to a "perfect wilderness on the other hill"?
THE GROUNDS 273
One path which is still much as it must always have been is that to
Tupelo Point, so named because of the tupelo, or pepperidge, trees grow-
ing naturally at the end. To get to the point from College Hall the stu-
dents went along the lakeshore as one still can in front of Acorns, then
through the oak woods where the Society Houses were built. Another
early path from College Hall branched off the lakeside path to Tupelo
Point to go up to the hilltop where old Stone Hall was built. The part
of this branch that then went between the greenhouses and stables of
the Durants and continued through the old orchard to East Lodge was
one of the paths which were first covered by cinders and later bricked
for easier snow plowing. Although now asphalted, it is still called "The
Brick Path."
Another path below College Hall stayed close by the lake around to
the Inlet Cove. Mr. Durant built rustic balconies overhanging the lake,
just off the path below College Hall. For many years when these "spoon-
holders" had to be repaired, gnarled and twisted branches like the origi-
nals were used, retaining the style, but recently unromantic sawn boards
have been substituted. The path continued across the bridge and through
the west woods, passing a very fine bog, still there, that was called "Zool-
ogy Pond" on early maps. Another favorite path of the early years no
longer exists. It went from College Hall to "Chestnut Hill" (later "No-
rumbega Hill," now "the Academic Quad").
The paths mentioned here assumed such importance in the lives of
the students that after the commencement exercises on June 24, 1879,
the first graduates sentimentally walked over them "for one last time."
But they are by no means the only alumnae to have had such fondness
(nostalgia, if you will) for Wellesley's paths. Even today more than a
few walk around the lake path during reunion, and some make a point
of returning in the fall or spring to do so and perhaps to rejoice espe-
cially in the eighty acres of woodland between Pond Road and the west
shore of Lake Waban which members of the Hunnewell family gave to
the College in 1964.
The Siting of the Buildings
The Durants had no need for a landscape architect in placing the early
buildings. For College Hall they wanted a view of the lake, and the size
of the building virtually dictated the choice of the hill. When in 1880
they selected the site for Stone Hall for the "Teacher Specials," they
again chose a site with a lake view — and it seems likely that they took
special pleasure in locating it on the hill where they had once planned
to build the great mansion of the country estate for young Harry (or so
some evidence, including the tombstone there of Harry's dog, "Jack, mon
274 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
pauvre chien," seems to indicate). Also placed on a hill was Simpson,
built in 1881 as a "cottage" for students. Music Hall, of which the cor-
nerstone was laid in the same year, was built on solid ground, near the
lake but not too far from College Hall and Stone Hall and not so near
either of them that the cacophony from its open windows would prove
disturbing. The location a few years later of Billings Hall, also a music
building, was foreordained to adjoin Music Hall.
Mr. Durant had talked with his old friend Professor Eben Horsford
about building a "School of Art" on the hill which the students called
"Chestnut Hill" because of the chestnuts they gathered there and roasted.
Before the Farnsworth Art Building was erected there in 1889, it had been
named "Norumbega Hill" in honor of Professor Horsford, who cham-
pioned the theory that the Norsemen had established a settlement on the
Charles River near the village of Norumbega, not far from Wellesley.
When the first cottage dormitory was built on the hill in 1886 and Pro-
fessor Horsford, who had contributed generously to it as to so many
other projects, declined to have it bear his name, the students proposed
"Norumbega." He happily accepted that suggestion, and by extension
the whole hill was so designated. Three other dormitories — Freeman
(1888), Wood (1889), and Wilder (1900)— and the much more imposing
Farnsworth eventually stood on the hill, as is recounted in the chapter
on buildings. All five of them were placed around the rim of the hill,
leaving in the center an open, tree-covered area. Today, on a simple but
formal terrace constructed on the site of Farnsworth, five stone medal-
lions from that building have been laid. These medallions, inscribed
with the names and dates, commemorate the buildings that once stood
on Norumbega Hill. Stone benches given by the Class of 1879 have also
been placed on the terrace, from which a view across the green to the
lake opens up as it did many years ago.
The first building on the campus whose siting was surrounded by
controversy was the Houghton Memorial Chapel, which was dedicated
in 1889. Initially the trustees had planned to build it across the main
road toward the lake, almost opposite the Art Building and among the
rhododendrons near Longfellow Pond. Then some of the faculty and the
Alumnae Association, which by that time had an "Aesthetic Committee,"
swung into vigorous action. After lengthy conferences, the site was
shifted to a location still on the main road but beyond Music Hall toward
Stone Hall.
Fairly reliable tradition has it that Mr. Durant envisioned a "School
of Science" on the hill across the meadow beyond Simpson. The Whitin
Observatory was built there in 1900, and a succession of President's Re-
ports called for the erection on it of a "science center." Then, after Col-
lege Hall fire, it was obvious that the needs of the various science depart-
THE GROUNDS 275.
ments could not await the funds necessary for the construction of such a
center. These needs were cared for, never wholly satisfactorily, over a
period of years and in various locations, as the chapter on buildings
details. The science center so long envisioned is finally taking form,
and on the hill selected by Mr. Durant a hundred years ago.
When Caroline Hazard assumed the presidency in 1899 Wellesley
entered not only a new century but a new era of its own. Confronted by
grave financial problems, Miss Hazard realized that the College must
increase its income and that expanding the enrollment and the revenue
from students' fees was one important way. This inevitably entailed ad-
ditional dormitories and other facilities. She was also well aware of the
necessity for an overall plan prepared by experts. Fortunately for Welles-
ley, she was a woman of wealth and action. "At no expense to the Col-
lege," as she noted, in 1901 she asked three well-known landscape archi-
tects to study the situation and make their independent recommenda-
tions. By November 1902 she had received sketches from C. Howard
Walker and from the firm of Heins and La Farge of New York and a
report from Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr. of Boston. The Trustees liked
the suggestions of Olmsted, and Wellesley College became "Project
Number 250" in his firm. Either as the landscape architect or as a con-
sulting landscape architect, he maintained his connection with the Col-
lege for more than twenty years.
His father, Frederick Law Olmsted, Sr., was one of the first, and cer-
tainly the most influential, of the followers of Andrew Jackson Downing.
Not only was he mainly responsible for urban parks such as Central
Park in New York and the "green necklace" of parks in Boston, but he
was involved in designing or re-designing fifteen or more college cam-
puses. His son and his stepson, John Charles Olmsted, worked closely
with him. The firm's offices were moved to Brookline when the plans
for Boston parks were being developed, and a number of young, hopeful
landscape architects worked there as "apprentices." One of them, who
was to be helpful to Wellesley in the 1920s, was Arthur A. Shurtleff.
The first building which the younger Olmsted was called upon to lo-
cate was a new "Central Heating and Lighting Plant." It was obvious
that the old College Hall boiler was taxed to the full extent of its capac-
ity and that a new facility must precede the construction of any addi-
tional dormitories. Miss Hazard and her brother Rowland, who became
a trustee very soon after she assumed the presidency, prevailed upon
John D. Rockefeller to provide the funds for it, and his engineer pro-
vided the plans. Actually Olmsted had little choice concerning the lo-
cation, which was determined by the practical consideration that the
power plant be placed as close to as many buildings as possible. His repu-
tation as a landscape architect, however, may have helped to make more
276 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
acceptable the location in a charming wooded glade of a building hav-
ing a very conspicuous smoke stack. And, as Miss Hazard explained in
her Report for 1903, the chimney's height was necessary "for carrying
the products of combustion well above any dormitories in the neigh-
borhood, for the sake of the trees no less than for the sake of individuals."
There were environmental concerns even then.
Once the heating and lighting for new dormitories had been provided,
their construction was imperative. But where were they to be built? The
initial recommendation by Walker, by Heins, and by Olmsted as well,
had been on Norumbega Hill, and a rather elaborate scheme had been
drawn up to replace the old wooden dormitories in sequence. In March
1903, however, the Trustees turned down all of the proposals, and by
May of that year Olmsted had prepared a plan placing the buildings on
what Miss Hazard called "the high plateau near the West Woods" — the
site of the Hazard Quadrangle comprising Beebe, Cazenove, Pomeroy,
and Shafer. One reason for the selection was that Mrs. John C. Whitin,
the trustee who had given the Observatory and Observatory House, had
interested her sister-in-law, Mrs. Martha S. Pomeroy, in providing a dor-
mitory and, in particular, one to which students living there would not
have a long walk home from the Observatory after an evening of viewing
the heavens through the telescope. The nearest appropriate place was
"the high plateau near the West Woods."
In addition to the four quadrangle dormitories constructed in 1904,
1905, 1906, and 1909, two other major buildings were built during Miss
Hazard's administration: the gymnasium, Mary Hemenway Hall, and the
library, dedicated in 1909 and made possible by a matching gift from
Andrew Carnegie.
It had long been apparent that the gymnasium in College Hall was
not adequate. As early as November 1893 President Shafer read to the
Board of Trustees a report containing this "urgent recommendation":
"In consideration of the smallness of the gymnasium, and the successful
steps already taken to make the out-door sports of the students a part of
their systematic physical culture, an athletic field be prepared in that
portion of the ground lying between Music Hall and the Lake. The esti-
mated expense is $1,250." Miss Lucille Eaton Hill, the very able and
imaginative Director of Physical Training, must have felt very strongly
about the matter; she offered to be "responsible for the whole expense,"
and, according to the Trustee Minutes, Mrs. Durant "presented from
Miss Hill a paper holding herself and her estate bound for such portion
as was not otherwise secured of the expense of an athletic field at a cost
not to exceed $1,250." On that condition the trustees voted to "consent
to the appropriation of the parcel of ground as an athletic field." About
a decade later Billings Hall was erected in that area, and a hockey field
THE GROUNDS 277
was constructed in the vicinity of the present one. By the time that very
lengthy negotiations had been completed in 1908 with the executors of
the estate of Mrs. Mary Hemenway and with the Boston Normal School
of Gymnastics, the site for the new gymnasium was arrived at without
difficulty. "A site has been selected," the Trustees Minutes stated, "not
far from the present hockey field, and beyond the new group of dormi-
tories" — that is, those now known as the Hazard Quadrangle.
The location of the library building was by no means so clear-cut. Miss
Hazard pointed out in her Report for 1906: "It has been assumed by
common consent that the site for the library is on the College Hall Hill,
west of that building and at right angles to it." She stated, however, that
"Various friends of the College who have seen the Bryn Mawr Library
are urging upon us a building of that character," and that she "cannot
believe it would be proper to put a building of stone, however beautiful
in itself, in close connection with the large and dominating mass of
College Hall." It seemed to her that "we are pledged to brick if the
building is to stand in such close connection to College Hall, and we
have the style of architecture prescribed for us." She therefore urged that
the Trustees "also take a look into the future and decide where other
buildings which we shall need in the course of time ought to be placed."
Accordingly, a trustee committee, with Miss Hazard as chairman, was
appointed to report on possible sites for a library building, and that com-
mittee invited Charles A. Piatt of New York to consider sites "and make
suggestions for the general placing of the building from an architectural
point of view." He and the committee had "a long session," after which
he presented "a most comprehensive report. A careful survey of the
grounds has been made, placing every tree in position, giving us all of
the levels, and making a report on the eligibility of various sites dis-
cussed for the library in a very clear manner." The Trustees then voted
in February 1908 to approve the site near Longfellow Pond and to em-
ploy as architects the firm of Shepley, Rutan, and Coolidge, described
by Miss Hazard as "perhaps the most distinguished architects of aca-
demic buildings in the country."
Miss Hazard continued to call to the attention of the Trustees the
need for dormitories and a science building. She "recalled to them" a
plan which she had "warmly advocated" of a large additional dormitory
(for as many as 200 students) on Norumbega Hill. As she envisioned it,
"This dormitory would be built on an angle, with a stairway leading up
the hill between its two wings, and a clock tower crowning the whole.
Norumbega is such a beautiful little hill that we could have a cluster of
buildings there which would have the effect of an Italian citadel, with
the advantage that our buildings would be open to light and air on both
sides." A site for still another large dormitory group began to be talked
278 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
about, and by November 1911 the Trustees authorized its executive
committee "to secure plans for a new dormitory ... to be one of a new
group in the orchard, so called." (The orchard was in the general area
where Bates, Freeman, and McAfee were built in the 1950s.) Also in 1911
the Shepley firm was asked to make a plan for the future development of
the College "including the proposed Student-Alumnae Building" as well
as for the new residence group.
These, then, were the general directions in which the College expected
to move when funds became available for new buildings. Suddenly the
entire situation was changed, literally overnight, when College Hall was
destroyed by fire on March 17, 1914. No longer was it the academic cen-
ter around which everything else pivoted. And no longer was it the
largest residence hall on campus. Simultaneously immediate action and
drastically revised long-range planning became imperative.
President Pendleton and the Board of Trustees moved very rapidly on
all fronts. On March 18, the day after the fire, a special meeting of its
executive committee was held at which "Mr. Shattuck of the firm of Shep-
ley, Rutan, and Coolidge was also present." "No immediate decision"
was made about "the needs of the College for its administration and the
problem of the future housing of the students," but the matters "were
referred to Messrs. Shepley, Rutan, and Coolidge for further considera-
tion." On March 24 "Mr. Shattuck submitted a sketch of a proposed
temporary structure to be used as an administration building, the cost
not to exceed $32,800. It was voted unanimously to authorize proceeding
with the erection." And so it was that the Hen Coop, completed in fif-
teen working days (and lasting for seventeen years!) was built near the
Houghton Memorial Chapel to serve as a classroom and administration
building.
Although emergency measures were taken to provide truly temporary
housing for displaced students and faculty, it was clearer than ever be-
fore that dormitories must be fireproof and that residential equivalents
of the Hen Coop would not suffice. Louise McCoy North '79, who had
been deeply involved throughout the College's history as student, faculty
member, president of the Alumnae Association, and trustee, was a central
figure. With amazing celerity, she arranged for the gift from an anony-
mous donor (later revealed as Ellen Stebbins Curtiss James) of the "Cen-
tral Dormitory" (Tower Court) on College Hall Hill. By mid-June an-
nouncement of the gift was made, and by mid-August the plans had
been completed by Coolidge and Carlson, the architects proposed by the
donor and accepted by the Trustees, and the plans were in the architects'
Boston office available "for criticism and suggestion by the trustees be-
tween the hours of ten and twelve" for one week. Moreover, on September
21, 1914, the Trustees "voted to accept the terms of Coolidge and Carlson
THE GROUNDS 279
to draw plans for the 'west dormitory,' " which, in due course, was named
Claflin Hall.
Also, by May 9, 1914, Olmsted was being consulted. During the sum-
mer and fall Shurtleff also provided revisions of Olmsted's plans placing
new academic and residential buildings in the meadow north of the
Chapel and toward Observatory Hill. This "Meadow Plan" was continu-
ally revised through the spring of 1915, even to the point of working out
a sequence for the erection of buildings. Had this plan been accepted, the
Wellesley campus would have an appearance very different from the
one we know. The open meadow would have been filled and leveled.
Instead of being placed on hills, many buildings would have been on
swampland, the old "cowslip farm," the place which "only booted bot-
anists and zoologists" crossed. And the buildings would have been placed
in rectangular units, with formal, straight walks, around rectangular
pools with fountains. It would have been a return to what Andrew Jack-
son Downing called "the ancient, geometric style."
With the funds assured for "the central dormitory," Tower Court, and
with the architects selected by its donor also working on plans for the
adjacent dormitory, the Trustees must have been well satisfied with the
progress being made. Then they discovered that some of the faculty and
alumnae did not share their satisfaction with the proposed uses of College
Hall Hill and the "Great Meadow." Apparently there was some senti-
ment against having the site of "the College," as College Hall was thought
of and spoken of for a good many years, become exclusively a residential
center. Perhaps, some thought, at least the western part, where Claflin
Hall now stands, might be the location of the proposed student-alumnae
building. There were also many misgivings about the meadow as an
academic center, and strong feelings about the need for a supervising
architect.
As early as October 28, 1914, Miss Pendleton read to the Executive
Committee a long letter from five redoubtable members of the Art De-
partment: Alice Van Vechten Brown, Edith R. Abbot, Alice Walton,
Eliza J. Newkirk '00, an architect herself, and Myrtilla Avery '91. This
letter emphasized the need for the selection of a supervising architect and
analyzed the problems of the Great Meadow in designing and grouping
academic buildings. It also advocated, as far as woodlands were con-
cerned, that certain parts be set apart as permanent wildwoods, certain
parts as "cultivate wooded areas," and certain parts "as in time to be
cut down and built upon." Mr. Shurtleff then gave to the Executive Com-
mittee and to the full Board on November 13 "an explanation of the
preliminary plan of the Advisory Committee of Architects." Three days
later the Executive Committee met with Art Department members and
then "voted to postpone work on the plans for the west dormitory."
28o WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
At a meeting of the Executive Committee held on New Year's Day 1915
(as Mr. Quarles points out in his chapter on the role of the trustees, the
Board was an extraordinarily hardworking group after the fire!), it was
decided to have a conference with faculty and alumnae on January 29 in
the conference room of the library. (We must remember that, among
other facilities, the room in College Hall where the campus meetings of
the trustees had been held had been destroyed. Until Green Hall was
built, they met in a variety of places including the Library, the Art Build-
ing, and the parlor of Stone Hall.)
For once the Alumnae Conference Committee moved slightly faster
than the faculty committee — perhaps because the alumnae committee
had only three members: Mary Rockwell Hook '00, an architect, the
chairman; Dora Emerson Wheeler '92, the vice president of the Alumnae
Association; Lucy J. Freeman '96, who had studied at the Boston Museum
of Fine Arts, the American School of Archaeology in Rome, and at mu-
seums abroad. That committee by February 6 proposed for supervising
architect two names: Ralph Adams Cram of Boston and Frank Miles
Day, of Day and Klauder of Philadelphia. To the Executive Committee
two days later Miss Pendleton read the report of the Conference Commit-
tee of the Faculty, which was composed of Miss Brown and Miss New-
kirk (later Mrs. Rogers) of the Art Department, Elizabeth K. Fisher, Pro-
fessor of Geology, Eliza H. Kendrick, Professor of Biblical History, Mar-
garet P. Sherwood, Professor of English Literature, and Alice V. Waite,
Dean and Professor of English Literature. To call it a "strong, able com-
mittee" would be an understatement. It made the points that "A man
satisfactory along artistic lines, but without the practical side may (1)
be supplemented by a practical architect and (2) checked up by a careful
building committee, but a man uninterested in the artistic side cannot
be made satisfactory," and that "A great design may be cut down and
altered to meet the limitations of price and so forth, and may still remain
great, but a petty design can never afterwards be enlarged." The report
then mentioned architects, "each of rare capacity," who "have been con-
sidered by the Committee with something like the necessary thorough-
ness," and it looked most approvingly on Cram and Day.
Obviously convinced, the Executive Committee on that very day dis-
cussed the method of choosing a supervising architect, and the full Board
on March 12 voted to create the office, to appoint Day to hold it, and to
empower the Executive Committee to formulate his duties. Those duties
as authorized on March 22, 1915, were so important for so many critical
years in the development of the campus that they warrant quotation in
full:
1. The architect for any new building must be approved by the super-
vising architect.
THE GROUNDS 201
2. Plans for new buildings must be subject to criticism and revision
of the supervising architect.
3. Architectural plans in any old building must be approved by him.
4. All walks, grading, and new planting schemes are to be carried out
under his direction.
5. All memorials in the shape of statues, bas-reliefs, medallion etc.
must be approved by him before being accepted from donors.
In 1933 the duties were redefined, with the supervising architect retain-
ing the first three and a consulting landscape architect exercising the
fourth and, in addition, being "consulted in regard to the placement of
all new buildings." These procedures remained in effect until 1940, when
the Trustees voted to handle matters in the future "as the occasion may
arise."
For a good many years in actual practice the firms of Day and Klauder
and of Cram and Ferguson worked together closely, with the first firm
becoming the executive architects on a good many buildings (Founders,
Severance, Sage, Stone-Davis, and Green) and Cram the supervising archi-
tect. The landscape architects, Olmsted and Shurtleff, were consulted and
received copies of all plans. It was a distinguished and apparently unusu-
ally amicable team during a period of extraordinarily extensive planning
and construction at Wellesley.
Even after the appointment in March 1915 of a supervising architect
to the liking of the Alumnae and Faculty Conference Committees, there
ensued a period — fortunately brief and happily concluded — which must
have been difficult and somewhat frustrating for the Trustees, although
their official records are exceedingly restrained. Doubtless it was also a
troubling experience for the faculty and alumnae. In the middle of May
Miss Pendleton called the attention of the Executive Committee to the
fact that it had not acted on requests from the alumnae and faculty com-
mittees asking for representation on the Building Committee, and she
reported that she had received "two other communications from them in
regard to College Hall Hill." The Trustee Minutes then state that
"Before considering these, the Committee felt it necessary to determine
the obligation of the Trustees to the donor of the new dormitory" — a
delicate matter indeed. At the next meeting of the Committee that
month, several definitive actions were taken: plans for the west dormi-
tory on College Hall Hill developed by Coolidge and Carlson in accord-
ance with suggestions by Day and Klauder were approved and authoriza-
tion was granted to proceed; the decision of the supervising architect
that it was impossible architecturally to place the Student-Alumnae
Building on the southwest corner of College Hall Hill was regarded as
final; the Committee decided that "It is not possible legally to add to its
282 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
membership from outside the Board of Trustees, but it takes pleasure in
inviting the Chairmen of the Alumnae and the Faculty Conference Com-
mittees to consult with them when they meet as a Building Committee
while the general plan for the development of the College is under con-
sideration."
The faculty and alumnae representatives apparently accepted these
decisions as fair and reasonable and there were no further protests about
the proposed buildings on College Hall Hill. They, doubtless, were de-
lighted, too, that Day and Klauder rejected the "Great Meadow" con-
cept and in October presented to the Executive Committee and the Com-
mittees of the Faculty and Alumnae a plan for Norumbega Hill to be
the site of the academic center.
This plan, however, as Miss Pendleton wrote in her Report for 1915-16,
"was such a far-reaching one that the Executive Committee, after con-
sultation with the supervising architects, voted to secure expert criticism
and to ask Mr. Ralph Adams Cram of Boston and Mr. Milton B. Me-
dary, Jr. of Philadelphia to report on the plan. They warmly commended
the selection of Norumbega Hill as the site of the academic center and
the orchard as the site for a future group of residence halls. . . . The
report suggested changes, which were cordially adopted by Day and
Klauder, and involved the moving of buildings for Botany and Zoology
to Observatory Hill." Cram and Medary were enthusiastic to the point
of lyricism about the treatment of Norumbega Hill, speaking of it as "a
most brilliant and constructive example of architectural design and
composition, and an almost miraculous solution of an extremely difficult
situation." They concluded their report by stating: "We congratulate
Wellesley College on arriving at a basis for a solution of the problem of
future architectural development which, when realized, will not only
accent but glory in a remarkable topography, culminating on Norumbega
Hill in the same spirit which has made Mont St. Michel an architectural
monument of all time."
We can almost hear Miss Pendleton's sigh of relief and picture her
quiet satisfaction when we read the final words of her Report for the
year: "Throughout the discussion of plans there have been conferences
with faculty and alumnae, and it is believed that the ultimate result
will secure a plan for the development of the College commending itself
for beauty and efficiency." So much attention has been devoted here to
this period of planning for the future because there were, as Miss Pen-
dleton pointed out, such far-reaching results, and also because it demon-
strated so clearly the devotion to the College of its trustees, faculty, and
alumnae, all working for the same ultimate goal and appreciating the
goodwill of others even when views on achieving them differed sharply
from time to time.
THE GROUNDS 283
Once the major decisions on architectural development and landscape
planning had been reached in 1916, there were many refinements and
revisions of plans (as well as long delays while funds were raised), but
problems of siting buildings were relatively slight thereafter for some
forty years. "The liberal arts building" (named Founders Hall when it
was opened in 1919), "the administration building" (Hetty H. R. Green
Hall by the time it was completed in 1931), and "the physics building"
(Pendleton Hall, containing also facilities for chemistry and psychology
when it was built in 1935) were located in accordance with Day and
Klauder's plans for Norumbega Hill which Cram had acclaimed. Sever-
ance Hall, dedicated in 1927, became the "east" and third dormitory
on the hill where College Hall had once stood. The proposal of Cram
and Medary to place the buildings for botany and zoology on Observa-
tory Hill resulted in the construction there of the two wings of Sage
Hall in 1927 and 1931. Alumnae Hall, as the "student-alumnae build-
ing" was called when it was completed in 1925, was a part of the plan
for development adopted ten years earlier. Although it appears that a
dormitory was not specified then for the site of Munger Hall, that build-
ing may well have been thought of as an extension of the Hazard Quad-
rangle; certainly there was no controversy about its location, and when
it was opened in 1933 Miss Pendleton wrote, "Rarely has a building been
erected on the campus which has met with such universal satisfaction."
The location of the Recreation Building had been taken for granted and
funds been raised for it almost since the moment Mary Hemenway Hall
was built thirty years before. Wholly logical, too, was the location of
Stone and Davis Halls on the site of old Stone Hall after it was destroyed
by fire in 1927. Even Bates, Freeman, and McAfee, the dormitories built
in the 1950s, were in the general area of the site selected for "the orchard
group of dormitories" which had been envisioned for so many years.
There was, however, in the 1950s substantial revision in the thinking
about the plans for certain new or extensively remodeled academic build-
ings. As early as 1923 Cram had been asked to make a plan for "a fire-
proof addition to the Art Building," and as late as the 75th Anniversary
Fund Campaign it was assumed that somehow satisfactory quarters for
the Art Department and its museum could be achieved by an addition
to the old building. In the 1940s the generally accepted view was that the
Library, to which an addition on the south had been made in 1916, could
not be further enlarged and that a totally new library building was nec-
essary. Therefore the arrangement proposed during the fund-raising
campaign from 1947 to 1950 was that the library building should be
transformed into quarters for music, and a Library constructed on Nor-
umbega Hill close to Farnsworth about where the Jewett Arts Center
is now.
284 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Then President Clapp reported: "In September 1953 the new Librar-
ian, Miss Helen Brown, and the Superintendent of Buildings and
Grounds, Mr. John Kreinheder, were asked to study freshly the desira-
bility and practicability of an addition to the library building. . . . De-
tailed studies of cost proved that at least $750,000 would be saved if,
instead of constructing a new building, an addition were to be made to
the old library in such a way that every need would be met as fully as in
a new building." Thereupon the faculty and the Trustees supported
the plan for an addition and, as will be recounted elsewhere, funds be-
came available so that the cornerstone could be laid in 1956 and the
completely remodeled building and addition doubling its size could be
dedicated in 1958. The firm of Shepley, Bulfinch, Richardson, and Abbott,
architect for the original building, drew the plans — as it did for the
additions on the east and west which will be completed in 1975.
Thanks to a gift from the George Frederick Jewett family — the largest
gift for a building since Mr. and Mrs. Durant provided the funds for
College Hall — the Jewett Arts Center for art, music, and theatre was
dedicated in 1958. A trustee-faculty committee recommended as architect
Paul Rudolph, as associate architect Lawrence Anderson, and, as Miss
Clapp stated, "studied the entire campus for possible locations, rejected
a remote site and the dichotomous concept of an 'old' and 'new' campus,
and finally chose Norumbega Hill as central. Centrality was important in
practical, daily terms and as symbol of the role of the arts, equally with
the humanities and the sciences, in civilization."
One other major building on the campus was built during Miss Clapp's
administration: the Wellesley College Club, opened in 1963 as a faculty-
alumnae center with dining and conference rooms, living rooms, and
guest bedrooms. Located on the main campus road at the Washington
Street entrance on a site overlooking Lake Waban, it has, in addition to
superb views, the advantage of being one of the few places on the campus
to which strangers can easily be directed.
The Development of the Grounds
The natural beauty of the campus ("the park," as it was called in the
early days) and its importance have been recognized throughout Welles-
ley's history. Perhaps one of the clearest, most direct statements was that
of Miss Clapp in the President's Report for 1956-58: "Second only to
the quality of the education which it offers, Wellesley deserves renown
for the natural beauty of its campus. This heritage should be held intact
for future generations. To ensure this, study of soil conditions, and if
necessary, appropriations for soil enrichment seem desirable now. There-
after, improved landscaping of various sections of the campus, which
THE GROUNDS 285
interests many of us, would seem a very proper step to take whenever
funds can be made available without cost to educational programs."
As we have observed, Mr. and Mrs. Durant appreciated the beauty of
natural meadows, woods, and lake. They respected the majesty of old
trees and planted new ones which in years long after they died would
add to the "grace and beauty" of the grounds, as Downing suggested,
through the "unshorn luxuriance of trees." They followed his admoni-
tion and "polished the scenery a little." For example, as Dr. Lyman
Abbott wrote in the June 9, 1880, issue of the Christian Union: "The old
forest trees, the natural grasses, the wildflowers, have not been spoiled
by the marauding hand of cultivation, and lawns, grasses, gardens have
been added. Last year a thousand rhododendrons and azaleas were im-
ported for the park and seven thousand crocus and snowdrops were
placed in the lawns."
Doubtless the Durants knew precisely where the shrubs and bulbs
should be planted to carry out their desire for an English informal land-
scape. It was not until 1904, however, as Miss Hazard remarked in the
President's Report for that year, that there was "the first systematic plant-
ing ever done on the college grounds under the direction of a landscape
architect." At that time, Henry Saxton Adams, a Harvard-trained land-
scape architect who the preceding year had been appointed to teach the
course in horticulture which the Botany Department introduced, super-
vised the planting by his students of bulbs around the Chapel and in
front of Music Hall. That area, not yet a manicured lawn, was never
mowed except in late summer, when a hay crop to feed the Grounds
Department horses was removed and stored in the haymow of the large
farm barn.
Adams also planned and supervised the first gardens in the Hazard
Quadrangle. It is significant that the Trustees had rejected in 1905 the
plan of J. A. Schweinfurth, the architect who won the competition for
the design of the dormitories, to lay out formal gardens with a fountain
in the center of the Elizabethan buildings. Later, too, the Trustees re-
fused to accept ShurtlefFs grandiose plan for the steep slope from the
quadrangle to the road near the present power house — a plan calling for
balustraded steps from terrace to terrace, with fountained pools and
beds of flowers. The Trustees, however, heartily approved Adams's plan
for the relatively simple landscaping which was made possible by the
first gift the College ever received to beautify any part of the campus.
Wishing to make the students in Pomeroy and Cazenove, the first two
of the quadrangle dormitories, feel at home and less far away from
College Hall and the Norumbega Hill dormitories, Mary Harriman Sev-
erance '85 initially provided a few hundred dollars in memory of her
little daughter Alexandra for beds of flowers that would bloom in the
286 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
spring or fall. In 1906 she and her husband, Cordenio A. Severance, de-
cided to expand the planting within the quadrangle and gave $10,000
to endow it.
Working with Frederick D. Woods, the Superintendent of Grounds,
Adams also selected ornamental shrubs he wanted his students to learn
about and had them placed around several of the buildings. By the time
he left in 1910 he had established the pattern of introducing to the cam-
pus plantings interesting old and new varieties of shrubs he wished to
use in teaching. This pattern has been continued ever since — first by his
student, Helen I. Davis '12, and then by me, one of her students.
Miss Davis taught not only the course in horticulture but, after pro-
fessional training, introduced a course in landscape architecture. She
remained on the faculty until 1947 and planned the plantings in and
around the new buildings: Founders, Green, Pendleton, Stone-Davis,
Severance, and Munger. It was she who planned the "special courtyards"
mentioned in the Horticultural Society's award. Between Tower Court
and Severance she designed a shade garden; at the original entrances to
Stone and Davis she used the small spaces for spring bulbs and flowering
shrubs, and, on the terrace of Munger, dwarf Japanese flowering cherries
with beds of pansies. Planned to require minimal maintenance, these
little gardens add a homelike quality to the dormitories when Heads of
Houses or students give them a little attention.
Any knowledgeable observer will notice Miss Davis's use of interest-
ing, uncommon shrubs and vines and may notice that two plants of the
same kind are often placed in different parts of the campus. One speci-
men was located where she taught the students the characteristics of the
plant and its name, and the other was where she gave them the field
identification quiz. Hundreds of students taught by Miss Davis and by
me have tramped the campus learning in this fashion native and intro-
duced species of ornamental plants.
The full scope of Miss Davis's talent as a landscape architect is best
seen in the Alexandra Botanic Garden. When some of the space for the
small garden in memory of little Alexandra Severance was lost by the
building of a link between Pomeroy and Cazenove in 1920, Margaret C.
Ferguson, the chairman of the Botany Department, which supervised the
Alexandra Garden, persuaded Mrs. Severance to double the endowment
and to allow the garden to become a part of the botanic gardens which
Miss Ferguson had long envisioned. After the site on Observatory Hill
had been selected for the botanical laboratories, Miss Ferguson prevailed
upon the Trustees to set aside some twenty acres around the hill and as
far west as North Road as an area to be developed in a way that would
be aesthetically pleasing and scientifically useful.
Miss Davis laid out an artificial brook which started from a hillock
THE GROUNDS 287
near Fiske, in order to obtain water there, and cascaded down a little
series of falls and pools to the meadow level. Then, meandering along
under and around trees, with occasional reflecting pools, it finally
reached a swamp at the west end. So sandy was the soil that the brook's
sides had to be lined with cemented stones. Yet within a few years the
scars of construction had healed, and so "natural" is its course that many
people have not guessed that it was carefully laid out. Along it and on
the hills, the plantings were by families, some specimens gifts from the
Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University, others from the Hunnewells.
White pines and shrubs were planted to form a background and to screen
the gardens from the noise of Central Street. Despite many attempts to
increase the water-holding capacity of the soil and its fertility, many
kinds of plants did not thrive. They were removed so that, in a sense,
the Alexandra Botanic Garden is an exhibit of what will survive with
minimal care in an old glacial lake bottom, and it carries out Miss Fer-
guson's purpose "to combine beauty with scientific interest."
At the end of the artificial brook the swamp was dredged to make a
pool, originally known as Lotus Pond because of the hardy lotuses
planted in it. As it silted over and became too shallow for lotuses, which
the muskrats ate with regularity, the water lilies took over. Their decay-
ing leaves and other detritus helped to increase the population of micro-
organisms, especially the kind that any botany, zoology, or microbiology
student could identify. The students then named it Paramecium Pond,
probably at least in part in recognition of the research on the Para-
mecium being done by Mary Austin '20, a member of the Zoology De-
partment. In 1971, when cattails and pickerelweed were growing far out
from the shore, indicating increasing shallowness, and the water lily
pads were so numerous that the student-fed resident duck family could
not swim, the pond was dredged and restored to its original depth and
size. The banks were then planted with azaleas, selected as much for fall
foliage color as for spring bloom, and with other shrubs naturally found
near water. The excavated rich muck was spread out over the adjacent
meadow so that the soil would support the growth of flowering crab-
apples and a few evergreen trees to provide a background for them.
Borne in mind was Mrs. Severance's wish that the income from the Alex-
andra Botanic Garden Fund should be used to provide spring and fall
beauty for the enjoyment of students. The plantings were also scaled to
be appreciated by visitors driving by on the main campus road. And safe
ice, earlier in the winter on the pond than on the lake, has made this
little body of water, so near many dormitories, a favorite skating place.
Adjoining the Alexandra Garden in the part of the campus set aside
by the Trustees in 1923 for botanic gardens is the Hunnewell Arboretum.
Isabella Hunnewell Shaw, a daughter of Horatio Hollis Hunnewell, pro-
288 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
vided the endowment supporting the development of the area, and she
also gave the money to deepen and seal a small wet depression which
forms the Arboretum Pool and to pipe water to it so that even in dry
summers it would continue to be a haven for wild life. In establishing
the H. H. Hunnewell Fund for Botanic Gardens, she wrote, "It is my
desire to keep for Wellesley College a portion of its grounds in its nat-
ural beauty, a home for trees, flowers, and birds." The whole area has
been a refuge for students and faculty as well as birds and it has been
treasured since the early days of the College. When the Whitin Observa-
tory was dedicated, Ellen Hayes, Professor of Applied Mathematics and
Astronomy, wrote with evident pleasure that in building it the pitch
pines had not been removed, only the most superficial grading had been
necessary, and "the graceful curved surfaces and contours of the bluffs
of the north meadow have been preserved to the delight of geologist and
astronomer alike." Poets seem to have taken special pleasure in the
wooded area behind the observatory: Katharine Lee Bates enjoyed it so
much that when "Sigurd, Our Golden Collie" died he was buried there
beneath a marble slab incised with his name and the date; Jorge Guillen,
a member of the faculty and renowned Spanish poet, spent many hours
there in quiet solitude, but he also liked to observe dormitory and de-
partment picnics held in the open areas, and he was enchanted by the
weddings performed there.
A very special area of the campus is the Hay Outdoor Theatre with
its screen planting of columnar evergreen trees. Given in 1936 by Alma
Seipp Hay '99, it adjoins Alumnae Hall and is the scene of a variety of
performances, some of which are described by Miss McCarthy in her
chapter on traditions. Another charming special planting is the Japanese
garden in the sculpture court of the Jewett Arts Center. It was given by
Mildred Marcus Levin '24 in 1965.
The Exedra below the courtyard of Tower Court was the gift of Ellen
R. Kellogg '93 and was built about the time in the mid-1930s that Can-
dace Stimson '92 provided for the restoration of the eroding lake shore
in that area and the construction of steps from Tower Court down to
the path to the library. At the edge of the Exedra now stand five of the
columns from College Hall. Eleanor Blair '17 came upon them reposing
in the Grounds Department service yard, and in 1972 the Class of 1917
gave the funds to erect them and to provide landscaping around them, so
that they again frame the view of the lake much as they did when they
supported a porch of Wellesley's first building.
Despite the concern for the maintenance of the original Alexandra
Garden in the Quadrangle, aging and neglect took their toll. In 1968-70
it was replanted in memory of Molly Geismer Mendelson '36 through the
generosity of her alumna mother, alumna sister, her husband, and the
THE GROUNDS 289
Cleveland Wellesley Club. Frank A. Sellner, who was then the college
landscape architect and was mindful that the College cannot afford to
provide the kind of care that Miss Davis's courtyard garden required,
designed the plantings close to all four buildings for effectiveness with
minimal maintenance.
An ephemeral formal garden that deserves mention (in part because
of the moral it points) is the Shakespeare Garden. Professor Katharine
Lee bates '80 and some of her colleagues and friends aroused student
and alumnae interest in celebrating in 1916 the 300th anniversary of the
Bard's death by creating a garden in which all of the plants he had men-
tioned could be seen and enjoyed. Finally, after much spirited corre-
spondence between the English Department and the Botany Department
(which expressed sympathy for the idea but no enthusiasm for the re-
sponsibility of executing it), the presentation of a Shakespearean sundial
by Helen J. Sanborn '84, a trustee, and gifts by her and others of small
amounts of money, Miss Davis planned the garden. She placed it below
Oakwoods where the ground could be leveled quickly and easily and,
she hoped, the plants would survive. By dint of having many of them
grown in Mrs. Durant's greenhouses nearby, and with great effort, she
had an English spring garden set out by May 12, 1916, when Miss Bates
and her colleagues dedicated it. The garden was beautiful and the poets
and botanists rejoiced together. For about ten years Miss Davis ministered
to the not winter-hardy plants before she gave up the struggle, the sun-
dial was moved to Shakespeare House, and the beds were seeded to grass.
All that remains are the leveled areas and a few English hawthorn trees —
and the lesson that formal plantings require expensive care. When money
is needed for educational development, it is wise for a plan of the
grounds to be such that the results of neglect can be described as "natural
wildness"!
It would be wrong, as should be obvious, to conclude that the present
natural beauty of the campus is the result of neglect. Many more ex-
amples could have been mentioned of times and places where the interest
and concern of individuals have preserved or enhanced the woods, the
swampy meadows, and the lake. From the time of the Durants on, presi-
dents, trustees, faculty members, students, and those in charge of the
grounds have cared. Since the turn of the century, ecology, the study of
the interrelationships of animals, plants, and microorganisms in the en-
vironment, has been taught in numerous courses in the biological sci-
ences. Any proposals for changes that might damage any part of the
campus have elicited strong protests from those who recognize that it is
an outdoor laboratory as well as a place of beauty. The nationwide con-
cern for the environment that developed in the 1960s was not a new
interest on the campus. But, as is well known, the rapid succession of
2QO WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
student generations makes it difficult for any one group of students to
believe that before their time anyone had ever been concerned about
campus ecology. To provide an official and continuing body, President
Newell in 1972 established the Commission on Environmental Concerns
on which all groups in the college community are represented. To it can
go all questions and criticisms, and not only do its members pursue the
facts and publicize their findings but they may also recommend action.
Thus the Commission has launched the most far-reaching and coordi-
nated effort of the community to ensure the continuance of the long
tradition of caring for our natural heritage.
They have for guidance an article "Architecture at Wellesley" in the
Wellesley Alumnae Quarterly for October 1916, by Ralph Adams Cram,
who wrote: "The possibilities at Wellesley are almost unique because of
the singular and individual beauty of the terrain. The landscape, with
its diversified contours, its lake and its very wonderful foresting, is so
individual in quality that it must control the architectural development,
or at least, subject to considerations of administration, act as the domi-
nating influence. In other words, it is as impossible as it is undesirable
that the problem should be approached primarily from an academic
architectural standpoint. Whatever is done must recognize scrupulously
the landscape, and the architecture that is placed therein must grow out
of these conditions rather than dominate them through preconceived
architectural ideas. There can, therefore, be no cutting down of hills
and filling in of valleys in order that flat areas may be obtained for build-
ing. Instead, every advantage must be taken of natural conditions, so
that all future buildings may grow out of them intimately and consist-
ently." If there is "scrupulous regard for natural conditions as they now
exist," he predicted "a steady and unbroken development, until at last
Wellesley College stands, as it may, as the most beautiful collegiate in-
stitution in the United States."
If it is true that Wellesley is today "the most beautiful collegiate insti-
tution in the United States" — and a substantial number of people less
prejudiced than alumnae believe that it is — it is true because of the skill
and dedication of a good many individuals and groups. A few have been
mentioned, beginning of course with Mr. and Mrs. Durant and their con-
cept of an informal landscape. There is not space here to cite the entire
complement. So significant and unusual, however, have been the contri-
butions of three sets of fathers and sons as members of the Grounds Com-
mittee of the Board of Trustees that special recognition must be given to
them. Both F. Murray Forbes and his son Alexander C. Forbes served
as chairmen during their terms on the Board, continuing as trustees in
an unbroken succession from 1932 to 1968; Walter Hunnewell, Sr. was
a member of the Grounds Committee and Chairman of the Building
THE GROUNDS 29 1
Committee from 1927 to 1947, and Walter Hunnewell, Jr. is a present
member of the Buildings and Grounds Committee; Galen L. Stone, a
trustee from 1915 to 1925, and his son, Robert G. Stone, a trustee from
1954 to 1972, were members of the Grounds Committee and also took
great interest in the greenhouses. And, given a rather prevalent feeling
in the earlier years of the century that men had superior, if not neces-
sarily exclusive, knowledge about such matters as the care of the grounds,
it is perhaps noteworthy that Belle Sherwin '90 was the chairman of the
Grounds Committee from 1922 until 1940.
The devotion of one whole group of people must also be acknowl-
edged. A landscape architect can plan, a landscape gardener can plant,
but only if the supervisor of the grounds and the individual grounds-
men care for the plantings will the original conception take form. Welles-
ley has been extraordinarily fortunate in the employees who over the
years have watched over the growth of its plants and shrubs and lawns.
The years of skilled, loving care of one of them, Frank J. Scheufele, Su-
perintendent of Grounds from 1937 until 1959, led his friends in
1959-60 to memorialize him by adding plantings around McAfee Hall to
the flowering shrubs which he had grown in the abandoned college
nursery and placed there.
That the grounds were found worthy of the award by the Massachu-
setts Horticultural Society is a tribute to a century of devotion by the
Board of Trustees and by many individuals who have been involved in
their various capacities with the development of the campus. But the
award also focuses attention on the need to continue to maintain and
to improve the successful planting. Now that metropolitan Boston has
moved far beyond Wellesley, these acres become more than the College's
preserve; they are also an invaluable human environment and refuge for
plants, animals, and birds. May the College warrant a prestigious award
for what it does in this area in its second century!
The tombstone of "Jack, mon pauvre chien." lit
tie Harry Durant's dog, on the hill near Oak- fa'
woods where the mansion of his country estate vJf,
was to have been built.
JACK
**
I
. THESE- MEDAU JONS. '
coMMfM'oXAtfetHi. ■::
J5U/XPINGS WHICH
ORMim sto6d : "m
MRvmiGK: tun I
The medallions on Farnsworth Terrace
commemorate the buildings which once
stood on Norumbega Hill (now known
as the Academic Quad): Norumbega, Free-
man, Wilder, and Wood Halls and the
Farnsworth Art Building.
The automobile on the original main road
through the campus by East Lodge doubt-
less respected the sign "Narrow roads.
Automobiles must go slowly."
IRNv
-ST NEEBHAM
ARCHED
kil 19 1775
IN AARON SMITH
.. <M0SES BUl.LARD
EN.SICN J05IAH UPHA"M
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JONATHAN'WIjrrTEMORE JR STEPHEN BArOITJJ)
ISAAC ■BACON -*■ ' MOSErFULL-R. v
The monument near East Lodge maiks
the site of Bullard Tavern, from which
the Wellesley Minutemen marched to the
battle of Lexington and Concord.
ISAAC BACON -**
DAVID T9"".'.
LEMUEL SHACKS':
JOHirsLACK
JOMN'SMITH if
JOSEPH HAWS
WILLIAM^N'CSBURY
T IMOTHY'HUNTTINC
5?TH-BBfl»r- •
JONATHAN KINCSBUK
SAMUEL- SRATT
I'AV.THAN' DUNN
J'SSMIAH'-SMITH
I55ACHAP PRATT
FELT ••
THILIP FLJJYC
J0H1TBULLARD -
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EL'IPHLr T *KINCSEURY JS
ABMU 3MKTH
.'CNATHAN'HUNTTIN'
!5PAEL-HUNTTINf
SAMUEL BRACK:: x ,
ZCCAWAW 'P'A-T
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MOSEI'DACOETT
DANItClrfASF-
SAMUEL PACCEW JP
BENJAMIN MILLS'.
iAHUEL WOODCOCK
JOSE??' KINCSBUR V
;osErh haws :?
AARON SMITH' JR
EBENEZER HUN"TINC
AMOS EPEf
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CAMUEL.SMITH
•MOSES HUNTT1NC
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WILLIAM .HUNTTWe
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■■H^H
Mrs. Durant's residence" in the 1900s
Old Stone Hall, built in 1880 to house the
"teacher specials."
Music and Billings Halls not long after Billings was built in 1904.
' 1UJ
Fiske Road was entered through
the impressive gates given by the
Class of 1916.
The Houghton Memorial Chapel, built in
1899 after controversy about its location.
This map of the campus shows the road
system existing before the major revision
in 1961. The end paper in the front of the
book is a map of the campus in 1875; the
end paper in the back is a map of the
campus in 1975.
JEAN GLASSCOCK
The Buildings
As the Centennial has approached and interest in Wellesley's past has
been heightened and deepened, many present and former members of the
college community have asked about the buildings they have known per-
sonally or have heard about. This chapter is designed to answer some of
their questions; those concerning the reasons for the locations of various
buildings are answered in the chapter on the grounds.
In this, as in all else, we must begin with Mr. and Mrs. Durant. It is
appropriate that the first building we see on the right as we enter the
campus through the present gates on Washington Street is the first
Wellesley home of the Durants. The opening chapter tells the story of
Henry and Pauline Durant, who beginning in 1854 spent their summers
in "the cool countryside of Wellesley," occupying a small farmhouse
which we now call "Homestead." After Mrs. Durant's death in 1917 it
became the property of the College. Used as a dormitory — and for a
larger number of freshmen after an addition in 1923 — until the opening
of McAfee Hall in 1961, it was then converted into faculty apartments
and more recently also into rooms for service employees.
After the death of little Harry Durant in 1863, Mr. and Mrs. Durant
moved farther up Washington Street towards South Natick to the house
built for the family of Aaron Webber in 1854. Upon Mrs. Durant's death
this house, too, came to the College in accordance with the deed of gift
Mr. Durant had made in 1873. By vote of the Trustees it was used as a
guest house during the Semi-Centennial Fund Campaign, and "Durant
House" provided delightful hospitality for many distinguished visitors
and potential donors. But, President Pendleton wrote, "After the cele-
bration of the Semi-Centennial in 1925 the trustees did not feel justified
in continuing the expense, and in January, 1926, it became the Presi-
dent's House. The former President's House was named 'Oakwoods' in
recognition of the Peace Dale, Rhode Island, home of its donor, former
295
296 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
President Hazard, and is now the charming home of the Dean of the
College."
While Mr. and Mrs. Durant lived in what to us is the "President's
House," they made their plans for the College which they would estab-
lish and for College Hall, the magnificent building across the lake on
the hill where Tower Court, Claflin, and Severance now stand. The
most compelling account I have ever read of that first building and its
significance is contained in Miss Balderston's chapter on its destruction
in the great fire of March 17, 1914. The impression College Hall made
even on casual visitors is extraordinary.
Early newspaper and magazine articles tell with evident awe of "the
palace" or "the castle" which was reached after driving a mile through
"the park," as the campus was then known. Although some of the articles
attempted to describe its beauty, many of them resorted to the still-famil-
iar device of giving statistics and details about equipment: "Ten miles
or more of steam, water, and gas pipes furnish it with heat, water, and
light. Nearly a mile of halls and corridors give opportunity for exercise
under cover in stormy weather. . . . There are 60 microscopes and 20
pianos. German student lamps (which give the best light known for those
who use their eyes constantly) are placed in every study parlor." The
Syracuse, New York Journal of September 20, 1875, concluded a fulsome
report by saying, "The college building is said to be a marvel of elegance
and comfort, and if favorable surroundings shall prevent homesickness
and induce girls to study, then here will be found a rarely industrious
class of students."
Mr. Durant also gave Music Hall, which was "built in the form of a
great organ" and contained "thirty-eight rooms for practice, equipped
with deadened walls and double doors." The cornerstone was laid on
June 10, 1880. A prayer of dedication was given by the pastor of the
Wellesley church, but, according to the Trustee Minutes, "There was no
public ceremony, only the family, five or six friends, and the workmen
present. A copy of the Bible with inscription was placed in the stone by
Mrs. Durant, and a Bible was given by Mrs. Durant to each of the work-
men employed upon the building, as at the time of laying the corner-
stone of Wellesley College" — that is, of College Hall. (Presumably Mrs.
Durant again took care to give copies of the King James version to the
Protestant workmen and of the Douay to the Catholics.)
Because Music Hall still exists, although it has no connection with
the Music Department and bears another name, some confusion may be
cleared away if we depart from chronology and explain the genesis of
the student center complex of which this building is now a part.
The will of Robert Charles Billings, a Boston merchant who died not
long after the turn of the century, empowered his executors "to distrib-
THE BUILDINGS 297
ute the residue of his estate to such institutions as they should select."
From it Wellesley initially received funds for the Botany Department
and for a professorial chair in music. Later the surviving executor,
Thomas Minns, presented the College with an additional amount which
endowed the Billings Prize in Music and provided "a hall which shall be
for the encouragement of the study of music." (The person who was in-
strumental in securing all of these gifts for Wellesley was Susan Minns,
the sister of the executor, one of the first women to study at the Massa-
chusetts Institute of Technology, a botanist and biologist of considerable
note, and herself a generous donor to the College and especially to the
Botany Department.) In 1904 Billings Hall, containing an auditorium
seating 400, four offices and classrooms, and a beautiful small library,
was built adjoining Music Hall.
Then after the Music Department in 1959 occupied its new quarters
in the Jewett Arts Center, Music Hall was converted into the Student
Organization Center, thanks to gifts from parents, the James Foundation,
and the Kresge Foundation. And, Miss Clapp commented in the Presi-
dent's Report, "The dilapidated, uneconomic, and inconveniently lo-
cated old kitchen of College Hall, which the students had been using as
their Center, was razed." When Music Hall became the Student Center,
it was renamed Billings Hall to ensure the retention of an honored name
in Wellesley's history. (Throughout Wellesley's history care has always
been taken to perpetuate in some fashion the names of buildings, even if
their uses changed or the original building disappeared with the passage
of time.) For several years old Billings was used as an interim storehouse,
and then in 1969 it was imaginatively remodeled and expanded and
named the Schneider College Center in memory of Robert J. Schneider,
the vice-president and business manager who labored long on the conver-
sion and died suddenly shortly before its completion. A special area, the
former music library and now the Davis Lounge, was made possible by
a gift from the Arthur Vining Davis Foundations in memory of Mr.
Davis's sister, Florence Davis '94.
Another building that bears a name harking back to 1880 (and, like
Billings Hall, has no resemblance to the original edifice) is Stone Hall.
As Lyman Abbott wrote soon after he attended the cornerstone laying on
May 27, 1880, "Stone Hall is the first considerable gift to Wellesley Col-
lege by any other than its founder." Valerie G. Stone, the widow of
Daniel P. Stone of Maiden, inherited from her husband a large estate
which he suggested should be distributed at her discretion "among char-
itable institutions." Mrs. Stone conscientiously carried out his wishes,
and through the Rev. Dr. William H. Willcox, a member of Wellesley's
Board of Trustees who became her financial as well as her spiritual ad-
viser and was married to her niece, she became interested in Wellesley.
298 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
She made a gift of $100,000 for the dormitory which in its early years
housed the "Teacher Specials," and a few years later she established what
was for the time a large scholarship fund.
"Old" Stone Hall was an imposing building which served the College
well, but by 1927 it required thorough renovation. While the work was
in progress only the laboratories for botany and the kitchen and dining
room for students living in Dower and Homestead were in use. In March
of that year a fire broke out. (Susan Shepherd Sweezy '29 and Dr. Harriet
Hardy '28 always considered one of their finest moments rushing to a
near-by fire box and sounding the alarm by smashing the glass with a
Bible, which the sophomore taking the required course in Biblical His-
tory of course was carrying.) So much damage was caused by fire and
water that the Trustees decided to tear down what was left and to start
anew. And so it was that "New" Stone Hall and its mirror-image, Olive
Davis Hall, were built on the hill which "Old" Stone Hall had occupied.
The cornerstone of "Old" Stone Hall was used, and the "western house"
perpetuated that name; "the easterly half of the structure" was named
for Olive Davis '86. A head of house and the Director of Residence from
1900 until 1917, when she resigned and during World War I organized
the hotels in Washington, D.C. for women government workers, she made
Wellesley her residuary legatee. That bequest and a gift of $350,000 from
John D. Rockefeller, Jr. defrayed the cost of Davis Hall.
The ground and main floors of the two dormitories were extensively
redesigned in 1964-65, providing a new shared main entrance and bell
desk, penthouse studies, some additional dormitory rooms, and much
larger living rooms. Two new dining rooms connected by a cafeteria
counter also helped to make Stone-Davis, as Miss Clapp noted, "as ade-
quate for contemporary student life as any hall at Wellesley, and in some
respects superior."
On the day of the cornerstone laying of Old Stone Hall announcement
was made of a gift for a cottage "to be used as a hospital in case of illness,
and when not so required to be occupied by about 20 students." The
suggestion was made that it might be well suited "for such pupils as, by
reason of character, constitution, and temperament, could better pursue
their studies in a quiet home of their own, dissociated from the three
hundred pupils who constitute the Wellesley household" — that is, who
lived in College Hall. Michael H. Simpson of Saxonville, Massachusetts,
described as "a manufacturer, inventor, and philanthropist," and his
wife were one of the four husband-wife combinations who jointly served
as trustees in the early years of the College. (The others, besides Mr. and
Mrs. Durant, were Governor and Mrs. William Claflin and Mr. and Mrs.
William S. Houghton, whose names are also still remembered at Welles-
ley.) Mr. Simpson gave $15,000 to provide this small dormitory in memory
THE BUILDINGS 299
of Mrs. Simpson, who had died in 1878.
Apparently there were fewer students than expected who preferred to
"pursue their studies in a quiet home of their own," and for several years
freshmen were assigned to it. Recently Eva Terry '01 recalled that in her
junior year, when she and her friends drew such high numbers that they
could, not have rooms on the same College Hall corridor, they received
permission to "take over Simpson." She remembers fireplaces in the
rooms which inspired them "to toast chestnuts and pop corn and roast
apples," and she found that the damper in her fireplace had been blocked
by a Wedgwood saucer of the kind used in College Hall. She cleaned the
sooty saucer and treasured it until 1971, when she gave it to be raffled
for the benefit of the College at a meeting of Wellesley on Long Island.
In 1908 Simpson Cottage "was remodeled and equipped as the college
hospital, with nine large attractive, sunny rooms for patients, including
a convalescing room on the first floor and in a part of the third floor an
emergency ward isolated to make absolute quarantine possible." As time
passed and enrollment increased, only the dedicated efforts of two resi-
dent physicians, Dr. Katherine P. Raymond, who came when the infir-
mary was established and remained until her death in 1925, and Dr.
Elizabeth L. Broyles, her successor, who served until 1963, made the old
infirmary function satisfactorily. The Trustees decided in 1941 that an
efficient modern clinic and infirmary were essential. It was built with an
appropriation of $175,000 from the Reserve Fund for the Depreciation
of Buildings supplemented by special gifts from alumnae and friends.
The new unit — a well-equipped 30-bed hospital and clinic — is connected
with the original building, which now contains the reception rooms and
living quarters for the nurses.
The first dormitory to be erected on Norumbega Hill (now "the Aca-
demic Quad") was, in good Biblical fashion, the last to be removed.
Because the cornerstone was laid in 1885, ten years after the opening of
the College, it was originally called "Decennial Cottage," but on June
3, 1886, the Trustees voted "that the name Norumbega, suggested by
the students, be adopted." This was a kind of tribute to Eben N. Hors-
ford, Rumford Professor of Science Applied to the Arts at Harvard. A
very close friend of Mr. Durant's and a major benefactor of the College,
he was the honorary member of the Class of 1886 and in the name of the
Class gave about a fourth of the cost of the dormitory. In turn, the Class
as seniors proposed the name "Norumbega" in recognition of his belief
that the Norsemen had founded a settlement near the village of Norum-
bega a half dozen miles or so from Wellesley.
Norumbega had an illustrious history. It had a small suite in which
President Alice Freeman and her successors lived until Caroline Hazard
at her own expense built a President's House, the present "Oakwoods."
300 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
On one of his visits to the College John Greenleaf Whittier brought
and read a poem "Norumbega" written in honor of the "cottage." And
(a mundane note) paying off the debt on it was the first sizable fund-
raising project of the alumnae. At various periods it was slightly en-
larged, and for a time it served as a "self-help" dormitory. When Bates
and Freeman Halls were completed in 1952 and accommodated twenty-
four more students than had been housed in the village dormitories, it
was possible to discontinue Norumbega's use as a residence hall and to
assign it to the students as a central headquarters for their organizations,
thereby freeing space in Green Hall for faculty and administrative pur-
poses. Finally in 1956 there was a large musical chairs operation: the
Geology and Geography Departments moved to a remodeled Sage Hall,
vacating what had been the kitchen wing of College Hall (the one part
of the building not destroyed by fire in 1914); student organizations
moved to that slightly superior space and called it CH II; Norumbega was
razed so that the Jewett Arts Center could be built on its site. In recog-
nition of the roles Norumbega had played for seventy years, a few mem-
bers of the faculty and staff took pleasure that summer in making seventy
letter openers from some of the wood in the old building, lettering
"Norumbega 1886-1956" on them, and giving them to the first seventy
alumnae who wrote expressing interest in having a souvenir of the dor-
mitory which they remembered fondly.
The Trustee Minutes of June 21, 1887, state: "The Secretary [Mrs.
Durant] reported that in consequence of the want of space to receive
the desirable number of freshmen, a friend proposed to erect a wooden
cottage on the hill near Norumbega," and the Trustees "voted to accept
the proposition." The identity of the "friend" was revealed in the min-
utes of November 1, 1888: "Hearty thanks are tendered to Mrs. Durant,
our treasurer, for the very substantial, commodious and admirably fur-
nished cottage called Freeman Cottage after our beloved President which
she has caused to be built and furnished for the benefit of the College
during the past year." That building was torn down in 1934 to permit
the construction of Pendleton Hall, but when the group of dormitories
in "the old orchard" was built in the early 1950s, the Trustees voted that
the name of Wellesley's second president should again be commemorated
by a residence hall.
In 1889 a third cottage was built on Norumbega Hill, this with the
bequest of Mrs. Caroline A. Wood of Cambridgeport, a friend of the
Durants', a trustee from 1878 until her death, and the donor the first
year of her trusteeship of the first permanent fund (a scholarship fund)
ever received by the College. Wood Cottage, too, was razed to make way
for Green and Pendleton Halls.
The last of the dormitories on the hill to be built (1890) and the first
THE BUILDINGS
301
to be razed (1930) was Wilder Hall, the only brick building of the four.
Charles Wilder's letter announcing his gift is well worth noting: "My
long residence in the Town of Wellesley, carrying with it so many pleas-
ant and sacred associations, inclines me to leave some token of my life
here as a citizen, and no more fitting way occurs to me than in connec-
tion with the institution of the town devoted to the higher education of
women." Noteworthy also is an aspect for which the Trustees expressed
appreciation: "Another gratifying feature of Mr. Wilder's liberality
toward the College is the fact that no burdensome restrictions accompany
the gift."
The first academic building on Norumbega Hill — and for many years
the only one — was the Farnsworth Art Building. An impressive sandstone
structure of classical design, it was described by President Shafer as
"elegant and commodious" when it was opened in 1889. Far from com-
modious for the much larger number of art students and faculty when it
was razed in 1957, it still retained an imposing quality. Alexander C.
Forbes, then the Chairman of the Trustee Buildings and Grounds Com-
mittee, marveled that, though it appeared to be built like a fortress, it
proved remarkably susceptible to the wrecker's ball.
A delightful account of the decision of Isaac Danforth Farnsworth to
give the art building was provided by Sarah Frances Whiting, one of the
faculty members appointed by Mr. Durant. She had many informal con-
versations with him during the early years when, as she said, with the
joy and excitement of children they together unpacked the wonderful
new apparatus he had authorized her to purchase for the physics labora-
tory. One of those conversations may have been the source for the personal
letter she wrote in 1884: "As young men he [Mr. Farnsworth] and Mr.
Durant boarded together; and when Mr. Durant married (Mr. F. never
married) Mr. and Mrs. Durant always made him welcome in their home.
He gave all the plastic statuary which adorns the halls [of College Hall],
and said he intended to do something better. One day the two friends
attended an art auction in Boston. Mr. Farnsworth was obliged to leave
after a little time, but directed the auctioneer to bid a hundred dollars on
some bronzes he especially wanted. The bid proved quite inadequate,
and Mr. Durant bid the things in for a much larger sum, and directed
them to be sent to Mr. Farnsworth. Mr. Farnsworth was delighted, and
went to the auction-rooms with his check, to find what had happened.
He said he would be even with Durant, and the next day put a hundred
thousand in his will for Wellesley!"
Mr. Farnsworth, a successful Boston merchant engaged largely in the
East India trade, died in 1886 and Wellesley did indeed receive the be-
quest for the art building. It and the four dormitories which once stood
on the hill are now commemorated by medallions from Farnsworth
302 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
which have been placed on the terrace overlooking the lake on the site of
the old art building.
Another (though anything but elegant) before-the-turn-of-the-century
academic building was the box-like, plain wooden Chemistry Building
which served for forty years (1895 to 1935). Helen T. Jones, now an
emeritus professor of chemistry, knew the old building from the time she
first came in 1925 until its days were ended ten years later when Pendle-
ton was built and students helped in the moving "by carrying apparatus
in desk drawers like a water line to a fire" up the hill to the new quar-
ters. In reminiscing about the old building recently, Miss Jones also
said, "If you came in the front door and stood a minute you could know
who was in the building — you just had to listen to the voices here and
there." But the chemists felt very fortunate to have their own building —
an added boon when the College Hall fire destroyed the laboratories for
geology, physics, psychology, and zoology.
Especially when financing the new Science Center is a matter of great
concern, there is a certain wry interest in the problem the College faced
in the 1890s in obtaining what seems today the ludicrously small amount
of money required for the old Chemistry Building — and also in the way
in which the cost exceeded the estimate! The Trustees in June 1894 in-
structed the Executive Committee "to proceed at once to provide a build-
ing for chemistry and physiology, and if necessary to borrow funds not
exceeding $7,000." A special meeting of the Board was held a month
later "because the Executive Committee found it impossible to erect a
laboratory for even the one department of Chemistry within the amount
the Trustees had authorized them to spend for that and physiology com-
bined. President Irvine showed the need of immediate action on account
of the requirement of larger recitation rooms for the large class to be
instructed in the autumn." The Executive Committee was then author-
ized "to anticipate, if no other way appears, the current income and to
pledge the same in payment for such a building." In November Gov-
ernor Claflin, the chairman of the Trustee Committee on the Chemistry
Building, reported that it was "progressing favorably, but in order prop-
erly to build and equip it, the cost would be between $13,000 and $14,-
000." And when the Treasurer in June 1895 announced its completion,
the cost was "nearly $20,000," and, as a result, "it had become necessary
to borrow money with which to pay the salaries and other expenses."
Those were indeed parlous years for the young College!
It is small wonder that Mrs. Irvine was so obviously elated to report
that "The college year 1895-96 closed amid general rejoicing over the
gift of $100,000 for building a new chapel, to be called the William S.
Houghton Memorial Chapel. By this act of filial devotion and personal
generosity, the donors, Miss Elizabeth G. Houghton and Mr. Clement S.
THE BUILDINGS 303
Houghton, erect a fitting monument to an able and loyal Trustee, while
the College gains space for assembling all students for stated religious
services, an auditorium of sufficient capacity for Commencement exercises
and other academic occasions, and the possibility of a future extension
of quarters now occupied by the library" in College Hall.
The need for a chapel larger than the one in College Hall had long
been felt. Not only was it impossible to assemble there for any purpose the
whole college community (Geraldine Gordon '00 recalled only a few years
ago the way in which students were packed in and the fact that the ones
living in Stone Hall had to have separate services there) but the size of
the room also prevented an increase in enrollment, desirable as that was
for educational and financial reasons. The students adopted a new chapel
as their cause. The Congregationalist reported at the time the building
was dedicated on June 1, 1899, "Ten years ago a Wellesley College un-
dergraduate association was formed in order to raise funds for a new
chapel, which should accommodate the increasing number of students. A
considerable sum had been raised when the generous gift of the Hough-
ton Memorial Chapel happily thwarted the purpose of the undergradu-
ates."
When the students had presented their plans to the Trustees, William
S. Houghton had been impressed by their earnestness and wished to
help them as on many other occasions he had quietly supported the Col-
lege. In the letter in which Clement S. Houghton offered on behalf of
his sister and himself $100,000 to erect a chapel in their father's memory,
he explained that Mr. Houghton had had this in his will and later, "be-
ing disturbed by business troubles he changed his will, leaving out this
provision; but at the same time he made known to my sister and me his
wishes in the matter so that we might, if circumstances should permit,
fulfill his desire to benefit Wellesley."
After what Mrs. Irvine with restraint termed "a vigorous protest" about
the site of the building, it was designed by Heins and La Farge, the
architects of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. "Its
simplicity, combined with the richness of building material, makes it
. . . one of the finest chapels possessed by a New England college," ac-
cording to a magazine article published at the time it was dedicated. "Its
form is that of a Greek cross with a slightly lengthened nave. The main
walls are of buff Amherst stone, with cut moldings of Milford granite.
All the gable copings are terra cotta, light buff in tone. The molded
gutters and cornices, the tracery work, sills, mullions, cuspings and mold-
ings and cornices of the central lantern tower are of copper, and an
elaborately wrought iron finial crowns the apex of the lantern roof." A
rather fascinating detail was that "The floors of North Carolina pine are
made fireproof by under-masonry of cement and ashes." Everyone re-
304 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
joiced in the building and in its completion in time for the Class of
1899's commencement in June and Miss Hazard's inauguration — the first
ever held at Wellesley — the following fall.
The most famous memorial in the Chapel — that to Alice Freeman
Palmer — is the marble bas-relief executed by Daniel Chester French, the
sculptor of the Minute Man in Concord and the Lincoln Memorial in
Washington. It was given by Edwin Hale Abbot, a trustee of Wellesley
from 1892 until 1921, who also gave the rose window in the Chapel. Be-
cause there have been some differences over the years in interpretation of
the symbolism, the statement made at the dedication on June 7, 1909, may
be worth quoting: "In the design of the artist is, on one side, an altar
with its flame. At the other side is a benign feminine figure pointing with
outstretched right hand and arm to the world without, and with the other
hand resting on the shoulder of the young girl who has lighted her lamp
at the altar flame and is going forth. On the pedestal of this memorial
is a medallion likeness of Mrs. Palmer, and beneath, a simple inscription
which reads: Here rest the ashes of Alice Freeman Palmer in the heart
of the college she loved." Later the ashes of her husband (and biographer),
George Herbert Palmer, a Harvard philosophy professor and the donor
to the library of his superb English poetry collections, were also placed
in the memorial.
The memorial windows warrant at least brief mention. The principal
ones in the transepts were executed by Tiffany, the one in the east tran-
sept being given by Clement and Elizabeth Houghton in memory of
their mother, and that in the west transept by Governor Claflin in
memory of his wife, also one of the very first trustees. Tiffany also de-
signed the window given in memory of Cornelia Elizabeth Green '92 by
her sister Eleanor, a member of the same Class, and the window given
by the Class of 1889 in memory of its honorary member, Phillips Brooks,
Episcopal Bishop of Massachusetts and a favorite preacher as well as a
trustee. The John La Farge Studios designed the window which the Class
of 1891 gave in memory of President Helen Shafer, its honorary member,
and that which the Class of 1890 gave in memory of its classmate Angie L.
Peck. The window with a good deal of medieval symbolism commemo-
rates Sophie Jewett, a poet and member of the English Department. It
was given by her colleagues in the Department (in particular Katharine
Lee Bates, Vida Dutton Scudder, Margaret Sherwood, and Martha Hale
Shackford) joined by some alumnae. Miss Jewett's sister Louise, a pro-
fessor of Art at Mount Holyoke, made the preliminary sketches and the
H. E. Goodhue Company of Boston developed the design.
The other memorial windows were made in the Boston studios of
Reynolds, Francis and Rohnstock. The Durant Memorial windows
(whose design was approved by Ralph Adams Cram, the College's super-
THE BUILDINGS 305
vising architect) are in the apse and were presented by the Alumnae
Association in 1925 as a part of the Semi-Centennial Celebration. The
theme of the whole group is Love and Service. The central windows por-
tray "The Love of God in Christ," the window to the left "The Call to
Service," and the one to the right "The Life of Service." Two alumnae
who were long associated with the College and were still in its active
service when they by chance died in the same year, 1933, are memorialized
in adjoining windows in the west transept. That for Mary Frazer Smith
'96, the College Recorder (whose feats of memory became legendary at
the time of College Hall fire), was given by her brother, Persifor F. Smith,
and the one for Eleanor Acheson McCulloch Gamble '89, Professor of
Psychology, by her classmates. The details of the Gamble window give
unusual pleasure to her students and friends because of the way in
which the artist incorporated references to Miss Gamble's many interests,
including cocker spaniels. The central conception of the window in
memory of Margaret Sherwood, long-time Professor of English Literature,
derives from a poem, "The Pilgrim," addressed to her in 1895 by her
friend and colleague Sophie Jewett. The iconographical scheme of sub-
jects is based upon suggestions made by another friend and colleague,
Martha Hale Shackford '96, who was the prime mover in the gift of the
window by Miss Sherwood's friends and former students.
The whole story of Mrs. John C. Whitin's gift of the Whitin Observa-
tory, an addition to it, and Observatory House as a residence for the
astronomers is delightful, and, thanks to the accounts which Sarah Fran-
ces Whiting, the first Professor of Physics and of Astronomy, wrote and
to the correspondence which she carefully preserved, can be completely
reconstructed, although only a few of its highlight are given here.
Miss Whiting wrote: "By Mr. Durant's initiative, in 1880 a semester's
worth in Astronomy especially emphasizing Astrophysics, a department of
the subject then very new, was offered very properly as Applied Physics.
... A 4" telescope, which could be placed on the roof of the north or
south porch of College Hall, the spectrum appliances of the Department
of Physics, a constantly growing library, and collections of lantern slides
were the only equipment. Not until 1896 was the present unsurpassed
students' observatory begun. By an unpremeditated combination of
events, which we are wrongly apt to call chance, Mrs. J. C. Whitin, a
recently elected trustee of the College, became interested to purchase a
telescope which had, by courtesy, been used by the writer when teaching
Olmstead's Astronomy in Brooklyn, and which was offered for sale. As
she learned what was the ideal observatory for a college, this generous
donor enlarged her plans to build the east-west part of the observatory.
This, with its equipment, was opened in 1900 with appropriate exercises
in the Chapel, addresses by distinguished astronomers and congratulatory
306 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
letters from famous women astronomers in Europe.
"When the space proved inadequate for the laboratory work of the
large classes, Mrs. Whitin doubled the Observatory in 1909, provided
added equipment, and built a house for the residence of the staff. This
work was done in the spirit of the founder of the College, who believed
that beauty is essential to the highest development of the student. When
someone said to Mr. Durant, 'Why have you put those beautiful paint-
ings into the hall and decorated the Browning Room when you say the
College needs money?' 'I must do this,' was the reply, 'for I see the neces-
sity of it; others can see and will meet the more obvious needs.' Mrs.
Whitin expressed the same idea when she said in answer to a remark that
a rug would not be necessary in a laboratory: 'You and Miss Hayes can
attend to the science; it will be good for the girls to put their feet on
an India rug.' "
At Float Night in 1896, only a few months after Mrs. Whitin of Whit-
insville had become a trustee, Miss Whiting mentioned to her a 12" tele-
scope (still in use in the Observatory) which had suddenly become avail-
able at a bargain price. Mrs. Whitin wrote to Miss Whiting on July 20,
1899, "I had very little idea when it was first talked of except that Mr.
S. V. White's telescope and dome could be set up at Wellesley for the
girls' use. It is a kind of evolution. Once interested in it, my desires
grew by the information they fed on, and I desired to do what I did do
correctly, and I always liked the correct thing to look well!" On another
occasion she wrote, "You need not feel that you have made extravagant
suggestions. It is only the carrying out of my own ideas as they become
broader. . . . My ideas are now way ahead of the little observatory or
of my bank account, else it would be far better than it will be!"
In the fall of 1898 she proposed to give, and the Trustees "voted to
accept with gratitude," "a 12" telescope and a simple building to house
the instrument." Then at a Trustees meeting the following May, "Mrs.
Whitin stated that she now proposes to construct the Observatory of
white marble in place of brick." When it was formally opened on October
8, 1900, Miss Hazard could report that it housed "a 12" refractor with
micrometer, polarizing photometer, and star and sun spectroscopes. A
Rowland concave grating spectroscope, of 6' focus, with its accompanying
heliostat, is set up in a room capable of being darkened completely. The
library is a beautiful room, and the dome by Warner and Swasey is all
that it should be."
Never has a donor taken greater interest in every detail of a building —
and rarely has one lived near enough to make such frequent visits. Some-
times Mrs. Whitin arrived with a hamper of delicacies for lunch for
herself and the two Whiting sisters. In her eagerness to have landscaping
done she sent her gardener with bulbs, which died and she concluded
THE BUILDINGS 307
she had been premature in having planted in November. When the house
was nearing completion Mrs. Whitin wrote Miss Whiting "to have the
architect order two oxidized iron ash barrels in cans for the cellar. Have
them with ribs down the sides to protect them thusly," and she drew a
picture so there could be no mistake about the matter. Sometimes in
her early morning notes, "usually written before the breakfast bell," she
vented her irritations (for example, "I do not want that common brass
faucet. It is a poor thing."). More often, however, she expressed her view
of life (" 'Better to be wise in the light of today than consistent with the
errors of yesterday,' that's my motto, and good sense and allows me to
change my mind as often as I please."), or showed her warm regard and
respect for "dear Professor Whiting." When Miss Whiting broke her
arm, Mrs. Whitin sent her a note scrawled with her left hand, comment-
ing, "How do you do it? I can't seem to make it go! I might break my
right arm, so I must practice!"
A later generous donor to the Observatory, also a widow living nearby,
is Mrs. Margaret C. Sawyer, of Wellesley, who took some courses in the
Astronomy Department, became interested in it, and in 1965 gave the
College a 24" telescope. This, with the classroom added in 1962, again
make the Department's facilities as outstanding in an undergraduate
college as they were considered when Mrs. Whitin made her original gifts.
Miss Whiting also visited and carried on a voluminous correspondence
with Lady Huggins, a noted British astronomer in her own right whose
husband, Sir William Huggins, was a president of the Royal Society. In
an article "Priceless Accessions to Whitin Observatory" in the October
1914 issue of Popular Astronomy, Miss Whiting wrote: "Lady Huggins
has been pleased to deposit in Whitin Observatory of Wellesley College
— a Woman's College, in a new world — certain of her more personal
astronomical possessions." Much of this fascinating material is in the
"Huggins Case" in the Observatory; Lady Huggins's jewelry and some
other items are in the Rare Book Room of the Library.
Miss Whiting is the source of the information that "Mrs. Whitin's
interest in Wellesley College inspired a like interest in her sister-in-law,
Mrs. Martha S. Pomeroy, whose will contained the provision of which
this building [Pomeroy Hall] is the outcome. Pomeroy Hall was to be
built for the convenience of astronomy students, but as there is no suit-
able place in the immediate vicinity of the observatory for erecting such
a building, the west plateau was chosen as the nearest location." Mrs.
Pomeroy's will requested the trustees to erect the dormitory "in the
Elizabethan Gothic style of architecture." And so, with the construction
of Pomeroy Hall in 1904, was established the style of architecture for the
dormitories built during Miss Hazard's administration and in 1927 desig-
nated as the Hazard Quadrangle and marked by a bronze tablet and by
308 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
a scallop shell, the symbol that she placed on all of the buildings erected
during her administration.
The second in the group was "called Cazenove," Miss Hazard ex-
plained, "in honor of one who will not permit her name to be more
definitely used." This of course was Mrs. Durant. It will be remembered
that Mr. Durant once said with some asperity to a man who had in-
quired why the College did not bear his name, "Sir, I am not in the
monument business." He was insistent that Wellesley be "God's College,
not man's," and Mrs. Durant shared his view in this, as on so many
other subjects. Mrs. Durant did, however, permit the use of her mother's
family name on this building.
A few improvements over Pomeroy were made in Cazenove. Miss Haz-
ard commented when it was opened in 1905: "We have omitted thres-
holds entirely so that the floors can be very easily cleaned. The system of
ventilation has been slightly improved from that in Pomeroy, making it
very perfect. The spacious parlors in these halls are proving delightful
and attractive rooms, with their 19-foot ceilings and large floor space."
Then she added a provocative statement that slightly boggles the imagi-
nation: "Neither of these parlors is furnished as yet; but even as they
are, with their fine windows and beautiful proportions, they make pleas-
ant gathering places for the students."
Acting on Miss Hazard's suggestion, the trustees had planned that
when funds became available to build the other two dormitories they
would be named Shafer Hall, in memory of Wellesley's third president,
and Claflin Hall, in memory of Governor and Mrs. Claflin, who had
been among the original trustees. Then unexpectedly Captain John A.
Beebe's bequest of $80,000 enabled Wellesley to build in 1908 one of
the dormitories and, naturally enough, it bore his name. The ships in
the window glass of the small reception room on the first floor represent
his seafaring career.
The story of the Nantucket sea captain's life is one of the most excit-
ing — and that of his bequest one of the most poignant — chapters in
Wellesley's history. He wrote in the December 1891 issue of Century
Magazine an account of the perilous voyage of the "Brewster," probably
the most famous sailing ship of its day, of which he was the young cap-
tain. Mutiny, narrowly averted shipwrecks, disasters of every kind known
to whaling vessels were overcome, and he sailed safely into port after a
two-year voyage. He made a substantial amount of money, retired from
the sea at an early age, took an active part in Nantucket affairs for sev-
eral years, and then when their daughter Alice entered Wellesley in
1892, he and his wife, who had accompanied him on several voyages,
moved to Wellesley. By the time he died, however, his fortune had shrunk
and payment of the bequest to the College would leave very little in his
THE BUILDINGS 309
estate. The College offered to reduce its share, but Alice G. Beebe '96
refused, became a nun in an Episcopal teaching order, and apparently
joyously devoted herself to the service of others.
On the motion of Mrs. Durant, the Trustees voted that the fourth
dormitory be named Shafer Hall. It was built in 1909, with the mathe-
matical symbols in decorative windows bearing witness to Miss Shafer's
career as a mathematics professor as well as a president at Wellesley.
Miss Olive Davis, the Director of Residence, pointed out certain dif-
ferences between the first two and the last two dormitories: the height
of the dining rooms in Beebe and Shafer was increased eighteen inches,
passenger elevators were installed, and "the location of the drawing
room on the first floor, instead of the second, is an advantage at once
apparent to anyone who has administered the social life of a college
home."
But before these dormitories or any other buildings could have been
constructed, a power plant had become essential at the turn of the cen-
tury. On Miss Hazard's urging, John D. Rockefeller had come to the
rescue by offering in June 1902 to install and fully equip a heating and
electric plant on condition that the College "use all diligence to secure
the sum of $150,000 for an addition to the Endowment Fund." The
Trustees voted "to accept with sincere gratitude the splendid gift which
will mean so much to the best interests of the College. It is an especial
satisfaction to us at this time following Mr. Rockefeller's large gift of
two years ago to have this new proffer of continued interest in the Col-
lege. This thoughtfulness not only provides for the future enlargement
of the institution but the scientific way in which the plant is to be op-
erated will make a saving every year of a sum equal to the income of
endowment of two to three hundred thousand dollars." A service build-
ing bringing together the carpenters, painters, steamfitters, plumbers, etc.
was built nearby in 1924.
Among the many building needs confronting Miss Hazard when she
took office in 1899 was that for a gymnasium. In her first annual Report
she stated: "There are no baths and no water in connection with the
gymnasium. The hall is a sufficiently good one to use for a class of 30
or 40, but students have to come to it in their gymnasium suits and after
vigorous exercises there throw golf capes about them and return to their
rooms. The director of physical training has introduced the use of rub-
ber folding tubs among the students, so that many of them possess
these useful articles and are able to take a sponge bath in their rooms
after exercise."
Finally a possible means of obtaining a gymnasium came into view
with a proposal that the Boston Normal School of Gymnastics move to
the Wellesley campus. Amy Morris Homans, the director, had carried on
310 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
the School since Mrs. Mary Hemenway, a Boston philanthropist who had
largely supported it, had died in 1894. The trust for it was to expire on
March 5, 1909, and the trustees under Mrs. Hemenway's will wanted to
fulfill her wishes "by putting the School on a permanent basis." In 1907
they proposed giving Wellesley College $100,000 as a trust fund, with
various terms and conditions, including a provision that by the end of
the year Miss Homans "directly or indirectly raise the additional sum of
$200,000 to be given to the College to carry on the work of the School,
including the erection of a gymnasium suitable and adequate for such
work."
Then followed a long period of fund raising, with "unremitting exer-
tions" on the part of Miss Homans, according to Miss Hazard, and also
by Miss Hazard herself, when, as she reported to Wellesley's Trustees,
"Miss Homans had found it impossible to raise the whole $200,000." It
was a period of lengthy negotiations, too, with the Hemenway trustees.
At last, despite the fact that not enough money had been obtained to
provide all of the facilities which Miss Homans, and also Miss Hazard,
desired, Mary Hemenway Hall became a reality and was formally opened
on December 7, 1909. The Trustee Minutes for November 11, 1910, state
that disclosure was finally being made that "When it became evident
that Miss Homans would not be able to raise the necessary sums, Miss
Hazard made a personal guarantee for half of the remaining sum, $32,500,
which she subsequently paid, having pledged to secrecy the three mem-
bers of the Board who knew of her gift. Thanks were voted to her. Miss
Hazard [who had resigned as president by this time] was immediately
elected a member of the Board, waiving all rules of waiting till the next
meeting." And so it was that Mary Hemenway Hall was built — and that
graduates of the Boston Normal School of Gymnastics, some of whom
had never as undergraduates set foot on the Wellesley campus, became
alumnae of Wellesley College.
Long and arduous as the efforts to obtain a gymnasium had been,
those for a new library building were even greater. The library in Col-
lege Hall was in the eyes of many of its beholders the most beautiful and
happily used room in the building. It was adjudged "the gem of the
building" by Edward Abbott, whose article in the August 1876 issue of
Harper's Magazine gave a clear picture of it, although the "young ladies"
then as now may have resented his somewhat sentimental tone: "It is
arranged in alcoves and superbly finished throughout in solid black wal-
nut. It is the very ideal of a library for young ladies, with cozy nooks and
corners where a book is twice a book; with sunny windows, some of them
thrown out in deep bays; with galleries reached by winding stairs where
the girls seem to have a real delight in coiling themselves away in such
mysterious fashion that you can only see above the balustrade a curly
THE BUILDINGS 31 1
head bending over some book, doubtless found more fascinating than it
could be if simply spread out on the table below. Opposite the library is
the reading room, a sunny room as it should be, well supplied with the
periodical literature of the day. Besides the most valuable of European
and American literature, scientific journals and magazines which come
regularly to the tables of the library, the reading room is provided with
the leading papers, daily and weekly, secular and religious."
Charming as its appearance was, its collections were, for the time, even
more remarkable. Mr. Durant's own extraordinary library of some 10,000
volumes — including some books and manuscripts which are still among
the greatest treasures possessed by the Library — was the nucleus. As has
been pointed out in the opening chapter, one of his most consuming
interests was the library, an interest shared especially by his friend Pro-
fessor Horsford. In March 1880 an article in the American Journal of
Education stated: "As yet there are only about 20,000 [volumes] but
numbers will not represent their rare quality and value. ... It has been
the intention to put within the reach of teachers and students everything
that can be desired for their studies. The collection of literary, historical
and scientific journals and magazines is superior to any college collection
we know of. . . . It is remarkably rich in grammar, dictionaries and en-
cyclopedias of different languages, as well as in works illustrative of the
geography and history of every country."
By 1897 parts of the collection had spilled over into every halfway
reasonable place in all five floors of College Hall. A Trustee Committee
appointed that year "to visit the library to consider various plans for
relieving the overcrowding" concluded that no more temporary expedi-
ents were possible and that "A new library building is what the Com-
mittee would present as the sole subject of its report." Regularly there-
after the importance of a new library was stressed. Miss Hazard's state-
ment of 1904 was unusually eloquent. "The need for a library," she
wrote, "I consider the most important need of the College at present. We
have an endowment for the purchase of books; we have a large number
of books, over 56,000 volumes, far larger than many a college of our size;
we have the readers, but we should have the quiet place for study and
a dignified housing for our library, which should give the studious at-
mosphere which every college so much needs. The development of a
great community such as ours tends more and more to emphasize the
value of the external things. With a company of young people they make
the immediate appeal; it takes knowledge and time for the deeper things
of life to gain their hold. We have seen the great influence of a beautiful
building like the Chapel, an influence as unconscious as it is real; and
if we can have a library as fine and dignified in its way as is our Chapel,
more would be done for the studious life of the College than by any num-
312 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
ber of added lectures or offered courses of study."
At a special meeting of the Board of Trustees in March of 1905, Miss
Hazard "presented the correspondence with Mr. Carnegie which finally
culminated in the offer from Mr. Carnegie of $125,000 for a library, con-
ditioned upon the raising of a like amount for endowment." As Miss
Hazard wrote later, "The sum which was offered was considered by many
experts to be inadequate for a building of our requirements, and the
condition imposed is certainly a very onerous one, considering that . . .
about $850,000 have been given to the College since 1900, and to endeavor
to secure additional endowment at the same time that Harvard and Rad-
cliffe are before the public seemed to the Trustees a matter of doubtful
wisdom." In fact, at the special meeting of the Board the only action
taken was to vote that "the President and such others as she may join
with her be a committee to continue negotiations with Mr. Carnegie."
Shortly thereafter Mr. Carnegie's private secretary wrote that "Mr. Carne-
gie finds that this condition meets with favor from most college presi-
dents," and in May Miss Hazard reported that she had had an interview
but "had been unable to change the terms of the offer."
Whether to accept the offer was indeed a serious and moot question.
Finally at a Trustees meeting late in June 1905, Rowland Hazard pro-
posed two resolutions: that "the President be authorized to accept it,"
but that "in so doing the Trustees expressly do not imply any duty on
the part of the President to raise the sum required, or express an ap-
proval of the conditional mode of giving." Typically, however, Miss Haz-
ard set to work. "The students were appealed to, and the alumnae have
also taken the matter up," she wrote that fall — and she obviously was
doing everything in her power.
Her President's Report for 1907 is an extrordinary personal document.
She had returned in May from the first sabbatical leave a Wellesley presi-
dent had ever taken (this to Egypt and the Holy Land). "While I was
away I must confess to have given some anxious thoughts to the prog-
ress of the endowment which should offset Mr. Carnegie's promise of a
library; and I wrote one or two letters which I hope may bear fruit: but,
naturally, I was not able to do much about it myself, and when on my
return I found that there had been small advance, though I cannot say I
was discouraged, yet the prospect of having another Commencement pass
by without the completion of the endowment was certainly somewhat
disheartening. I immediately turned my attention to trying to interest
friends of the College in this fund, and saw various people about it,
besides writing numerous letters. These efforts resulted in the receipt
of $1,000! As we needed something like $75,000, that was not especially
encouraging. When, therefore, just before Commencement time, it was
announced by the Treasurer that the College was to receive a sum of
I
THE BUILDINGS 313
about $80,000 from the estate of the late Captain John A. Beebe — a sum
which would more than complete the amount which we needed — the re-
lief was proportionately great. As our Quaker ancestors used to say, 'Way
had opened,' and in a way in a most unexpected quarter."
Thereafter progress was rapid. George A. Plimpton had given in mem-
ory of his wife, Frances Taylor Pearsons Plimpton '84, her magnificent col-
lection of Italian books and manuscripts, chiefly of the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries. This collection had temporarily been housed in the
Billings Hall library; now he provided a room for them in the new li-
brary and continued to add to the collection. Andrew Carnegie increased
his original gift by $7,000. The Class of 1886 gave in memory of Professor
Horsford, its honorary member, bronze doors, the work of Evelyn
Longman, with figures representing Wisdom and Charity. The Class of
1887 began to make plans to give a bronze statue of the Lemnian Athena
in the niche west of the entrance, and the Class of 1888 a statue of the
Hestia Giustiniani in the niche to the east, so that, as Ethel Dane Rob-
erts, a former librarian, wrote in 1936 in her excellent Brief History of
the Wellesley College Library, the Goddess of Wisdom was balanced by
the Goddess of the Hearth. The cornerstone of the building was laid by
Mrs. Durant on June 5, 1909, following preliminary exercises in Billings
Hall, at which a song written for the occasion by Katharine Lee Bates
was sung and Miss Hazard and Andrew Fiske, a trustee who was a son-
in-law of Professor Horsford, spoke. At the dedication the following
June there were speeches by Mrs. Durant, Miss Hazard, Mr. Fiske, Mr.
Plimpton, Professor George Herbert Palmer, and Henrietta St. Barbe
Brooks '91, the librarian. The exercises were concluded by the lighting of
a fire in the fireplace in the Reading Room by Mrs. Durant from a candle
held by the freshman class president and the singing by the guests of
the hymn "How Firm a Foundation."
But, as Miss Hazard had noted earlier, the building really was not
large enough from the outset, and the science departments preferred to
have their libraries near their laboratories in any case. Consequently a
good many valuable books and periodicals were lost in the College Hall
fire, although the entire Browning Collection and parts of some other
special collections were saved. The need for an addition to the Library
soon became imperative, work on it was begun in 1915 thanks to a gift
from Andrew Carnegie to the Restoration and Endowment Fund, and
it was opened in the fall of 1916.
Over the years not only the regular collections but also the special
collections have expanded greatly. There were many additions to existing
collections. Among those to the Browning Collection were, from Miss
Hazard, the love letters of Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, still
in the caskets in which the recipients had preserved them. Professor
314 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Palmer had a lovely custom of making special presents on Alice Freeman
Palmer's birthday from the English poetry collection which they had
begun together, and on his own eighty-second birthday in 1924 he
formally presented his entire collection of first and rare editions of Eng-
lish poets from Chaucer to Masefield. Charles Eliot Goodspeed, a well-
known Boston book dealer and the father of two alumnae, gave the
Ruskin Collection, which represented many years of his expert and pains-
taking acquisition. Helen J. Sanborn '84, a trustee, bequeathed more
than 500 volumes, pamphlets, and manuscripts from her Spanish library.
The Elbert Collection on the Negro in Slavery, the gift of Ella Smith
Elbert '88, one of Wellesley's early black students, has long been recog-
nized as of unusual value and importance; in recent years, however, its
unique character has received even wider acclaim. Katharine Lee Bates
'80 and Elizabeth W. Manwaring '02 are among the faculty members who
made notable gifts to the English Poetry Collection; Laura Hibbard
Loomis '05, also a former Professor of English, gave her superb collection
of medieval literature. All in all, thanks to many gifts and bequests, the
library possesses manuscripts and rare books and first editions which
range in time from a copy of the Ratdell Euclid printed in 1482 to the
books issued by the Grabhorn Press and given by Annis VanNuys
Schweppe '03.
Once again, the necessity to enlarge the library building was felt long
before the means were found to do so. The chapter on the grounds re-
counts some of the story — in particular the decision not to erect a whole
new building but to add a wing doubling the size and to remodel com-
pletely the original building and to install a language laboratory. The
impetus to proceed with the plans came in the spring of 1954 when
David M. Mahood and his sister, Mrs. Helen M. Petit, offered to give in
memory of Mrs. Petit's daughter, Helen Ritchie Petit '28, $500,000 toward
the addition if the rest of the funds could be obtained. As Miss Hazard
and the Quakers might have said, "Way had opened," and as unexpect-
edly as it had in 1907.
In going through the papers of his niece, Mr. Mahood had found a
booklet published in 1947 setting forth the goals of the 75th Anniversary
Fund Campaign. Knowing Helen Petit's love of books and her interest
in Wellesley, on a Saturday morning he telephoned the President's Office
to say that if Wellesley still needed a library he and his sister would be
glad to make a substantial gift toward it. The young secretary who took
the call trembled with excitement for days! So, too, but for different
reasons did President Clapp and the members of the Development Fund
Committee and the Trustee Committee on Endowment, who were well
aware of the constant push for funds during recent years and of the
continuing urgent needs for faculty salaries, scholarships, and unre-
THE BUILDINGS
3*5
stricted gifts. They decided to rrjove ahead, however, and under Margery
Borg Loengard '20, vice-chairman of the Development Fund Committee,
and Louise Saunders France '19, a former member of the Committee,
serving as chairman and vice-chairman of the Library Special Gifts Com-
mittee, "alumnae and friends were invited to help, without resorting to
an every-member drive. Clubs held special benefits, hundreds of indi-
viduals made special gifts, and by the spring of 1956 the necessary funds
were in hand. Once again the alumnae and Wellesley's friends met
Wellesley's need," Miss Clapp was able to report.
The library building which was expanded and remodeled in 1958 per-
mitted "housing 400,000 volumes within easy access of 850 readers." By
1973, however, there were more than 525,000 volumes in the main and
departmental libraries, and meeting the needs of the library was given
the highest priority among the buildings. Construction scheduled for
completion in the spring of 1975 provides two additions, one on the
east and one on the west. Space for an additional 325,000 volumes, in-
stallation of air conditioning, improved and enlarged areas for readers
and staff and for housing the special collections and the recently-estab-
lished college archives, a doubling of the number of faculty studies, an
entrance adjacent to Schneider Center and leading directly to the Reserve
Book Room, the language laboratory, and a student lounge — these are
among the features of the new additions which will help to make the
library in 1975 as exceptional for its time as the one in College Hall was
for its period a hundred years ago.
Announcement was made at the commencement exercises on June 1,
1974, that the Trustees had voted to name the Library in memory of
Wellesley's eighth president, who had died on May 3. Nelson J. Darling,
Jr., Chairman on the Board, stated: "Trustees, present and past, faculty
members active and emeriti, administrators, alumnae and students, have
been thinking separately and together of ways of honoring Margaret
Clapp for her devotion and her remarkable service to this College. A
marvelous unanimity of view has been evident. Over 300 members of the
community have written requesting the Trustees to consider naming the
Wellesley College Library the Margaret Clapp Library. The Trustees
heartily agree that in view of Miss Clapp's own contributions to scholar-
ship and her encouragement of the scholarship of Wellesley's faculty
and students, it is especially appropriate to recognize her distinguished
service to her country and her College by naming the Library in her
memory. A resolution to this effect was unanimously approved at the
Trustees meeting this morning." The expectation is that the Margaret
Clapp Library with its two large additions will be dedicated on Novem-
ber 19, 1975, the hundredth anniversary of the opening of the original
library in College Hall.
gi6 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
After the fire destroyed College Hall on March 17, 1914, some tempo-
rary academic buildings, hallowed in memory and patiently endured in
reality, were constructed. The most extensive and most famous was the
Hen Coop, built on the lawn of the Chapel in fifteen working days be-
fore college opened on the previously-scheduled date after spring vacation.
It housed all of the administrative offices and most of the classrooms —
and, according to Miss Gamble, Professor of Psychology, had the advan-
tage that if you were bored with the class you were in, you could listen
to the classes on either side of yours. By the time that the College was
prepared to build the first permanent classroom building (the "liberal
arts building," named Founders Hall in memory of Mr. and Mrs. Du-
rant), the United States had entered World War I and a special building
permit was required. Students who in later years sat at the table in
Tower Court presided over by Mary Frazer Smith, the Recorder, remem-
ber vividly her tale of meeting an official, sent out from Boston to investi-
gate the urgency, at the juncture of two right-angled halls of the Hen
Coop when the bell rang for the 10:30 class break. Visibly shaken by the
bedlam and crowding, the inspector granted the permit on the spot,
ground was broken in March 1918, and Founders Hall was dedicated
after chapel on Saturday morning, September 20, 1919. The academic
procession marched from the Chapel to a court outside the new building,
and Miss Pendleton spoke of the share more than 12,000 alumnae,
friends, and members of the college community had had in the gift of
the building, which contained seventy-four rooms including classrooms
and department offices. (It is interesting to note that Day and Klauder,
the architects, had presented drawings for the proposed academic group
on Norumbega Hill in "Renaissance and Free Classic style" as well as the
Collegiate Gothic design originally suggested, but the Trustees voted in
favor of the Gothic.)
The Hen Coop continued to serve as the administration building and
for some classes until March 17, 1931. At 7:45 that morning Miss Pendle-
ton herself led the attack on the old building, blowing a trumpet and
waving a hammer. The students and faculty had a glorious bash of au-
thorized vandalism for thirty minutes. They left it empty and gutted to
attend chapel at 8:15 and to sing the same hymns and have the same
readings that Miss Pendleton had selected for the historic service seven-
teen years before. Then she asked those who had been in the Chapel on
that occasion to lead the procession to the Green Hall courtyard, where
"America the Beautiful" was sung triumphantly. An open house that
afternoon and a bonfire that night concluded the celebration. The new
administration building bore the name of Hetty H. R. Green, who, as
Miss Pendleton remarked, "held a unique place in the business world
of her day." Her son, Colonel Edward H. R. Green of New York and
THE BUILDINGS 3 17
Texas, and her daughter, Mrs. Matthew A. Wilks of New York, gave
$500,000 toward its cost in memory of their mother. The tower which
rises above it was given by Galen L. Stone, a Boston banker who was a
trustee from 1915 until 1925; the carillon in the tower was the gift of
Charlotte Nichols Greene, honorary member of the Class of 1916, whose
husband had been a trustee from 1912 until 1927.
Another temporary academic building erected rapidly — this in the
summer of 1914 — was the Ark, which was also demolished, but with less
fanfare than attended the Hen Coop, in 1939, when the zoology wing of
Sage Hall was built. The Ark served as the headquarters for zoology and
in the course of its existence had two small additions, the first in 1920
and the second in 1928 when the College thriftily used for it boards sal-
vaged from old Stone Hall. Matthison House, the third of the temporary
buildings built after College Hall fire, adjoined the Hen Coop and was
occupied by the Reading and Speaking Department from 1920 until it
was removed in 1931. That department had been "accommodated" after
the fire in Billings and Music Halls. The building was "named in honor
of Edith Wynne Matthison, who has entertained the College so frequently
by her readings."
In addition to Founders and Green Halls, two other academic build-
ings, Sage and Pendleton Halls, were eventually built, chiefly to replace
classrooms and laboratories destroyed in the College Hall fire. Because
the Botany Department's need was the most urgent of any of the science
departments', the botany wing of Sage Hall was built first (in 1927), and
the zoology wing followed in 1931. And so pressing was the need that the
Trustees voted to use toward the cost of the building a bequest which
Miss Pendleton described as "totally unrestricted" when notice of it was
received in 1919. Russell Sage, who died in 1906, left his great fortune
for distribution by his widow, Margaret Olivia Sage. In her will Welles-
ley was listed as one of fifty-two "religious, educational, or charitable
corporations" to share equally in the residue of her estate, and from it
the College obtained $622,683. Mrs. Sage's will mentioned her wish that
each of the fifty-two should use the whole or a part of the legacy for
some purpose which would commemorate the name of her husband, but
she very thoughtfully added, "I simply express this as a desire and do not
impose it as a condition of my gift." The College did comply with her
desire, however.
In 1955-56 Sage Hall was slightly remodeled to provide space for ge-
ography and geology, and a combined library for those departments and
the biological sciences was added. Finally — not long after Wellesley en-
ters its second century — all of the science departments will unite in a Sci-
ence Center, as had been envisioned since the very early years of the
College. Ground was broken for it in the spring of 1974. The superb
3l8 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
greenhouses, named for Margaret C. Ferguson, a distinguished member
of the Botany Department from 1893 until 1930, will remain as they were
laid out in 1923 — and careful studies have been made to assure their con-
tinuing to have proper sunlight. The renovated Sage Hall will provide
chiefly for classrooms and offices, and a new building of approximately
the same size as Sage extending down the hill toward the meadow will
house the laboratories, a central library, stockrooms and shops, and will
have what is termed "an administrative focus." Tremendous advantages
of the new Science Center will be the opportunities it will afford for
interdisciplinary activity among all of the sciences — including mathemat-
ics, psychology, and computer science — and what is called, with great
understatement in some instances, "updating of the facilities."
Physics was one of the science departments made homeless by College
Hall fire. After temporarily occupying very inadequate space in the base-
ment of Wilder Hall, a dormitory on Norumbega Hill, it shared with
Geology what had been the kitchen wing of College Hall, the only part
of that building not demolished in the fire. (It continued to be used as
a kitchen and dining room for displaced, non-resident faculty and for
students and faculty in Lake House until Tower Court was completed.)
Lucy Wilson '09, a member of the faculty from 1917 until she retired in
1954 as Dean of Students and Sarah Frances Whiting Professor of Phys-
ics, recently recalled in an oral history interview some of her memories
of teaching in the old building. "It was difficult. All of the apparatus
had been destroyed in the fire, and that which was in use had been sent
in by other institutions. We had a dumb-waiter to get our apparatus
from one level to another. In the basement there was an old car which
we called 'King Tut' that I used in teaching the automobile course, and
ultimately the Ford Company gave us a chassis. The thresholds of that
old building were worn and the doors didn't fit very well. But," she
added in a typical fashion, "it was a beautiful location."
The last academic building built as a part of the Semi-Centennial Fund
was what had originally been conceived of as "the physics building," as is
told in the chapter on the grounds. Then, when it was finally constructed
and was opened in 1935, it served as the quarters for chemistry and psy-
chology as well as for physics, and, at the request of the students, was
named in honor of President Pendleton. The cornerstone contained a
remarkable collection of objects. Among them were a Bible which had be-
longed to Eleanor Gamble '89, a beloved Professor of Psychology who
had died not long before, and in which had been inscribed on the fly-
leaf the same passage from the Bible (I Chronicles, XXIX, 11-16) Mrs.
Durant had written in the Bible in the cornerstone of College Hall; a
brick from College Hall which Mary Whiton Calkins, one of Wellesley's
great teachers from 1887 until 1929, had picked up; Miss Calkins' First
THE BUILDINGS 319
Book in Psychology and two of her articles published in professional
journals; the pioneering book on stereo-chemistry written by Charlotte
Roberts '80, Professor of Chemistry until her death in 1917; a copy of
Seven Psychologies, a book then recently published and now a classic, by
Edna F. Heidbreder, Professor of Psychology from 1934 until 1955. In
many respects Pendleton Hall was a remarkably well-equipped building
for its day, but the separateness instead of interrelationship of depart-
ments at that time is perhaps most clearly evidenced by the fact that it
has been completely impossible to transport equipment between the
chemistry and physics wings without carrying it up and down flights of
stairs. With the completion of the Science Center, Pendleton Hall can
be remodeled to serve as the headquarters of the social sciences or the
humanities, which have become much overcrowded in Founders Hall.
Providing classrooms and laboratories was a major problem after the
great fire of 1914; housing the students, faculty, and officers who had
lived in College Hall was equally important, and in some respects was
of even greater complexity. For both educational and financial reasons
the College had been striving to reduce the number of houses it had
been renting in the village. Suddenly it also had to provide accommoda-
tions for the refugees from the fire. Immediately following it, offers were
accepted from students in other campus dormitories to share their rooms.
As Olive Davis '86, the Director of the Halls of Residence, pointed out,
however, "These crowded conditions would have been intolerable if it
had not been the spring term, when windows were open and the students
out of doors a large part of the time," and for the following fall "The
expedient . . . could not be continued. All proposed cases of two in
the space of one were submitted for consideration to the Board of Health,
made up of the President of the College, the Dean, the Director of the
Department of Hygiene, the Resident Physician, and the Director of
Halls of Residence, and the position was unanimously taken that not
more than twenty-five rooms on the campus could be reasonably used
for two instead of one student. This left miracles to be wrought both on
the campus and in the village."
The miracles were wrought but the ingenuity and imagination of Miss
Davis and the cooperation of the students and faculty deserve a good
deal of the credit. On the srte of the old boiler plant for College Hall, a
brick residence hall had been built in 1913 for the College Hall em-
ployees. "After the fire," Miss Davis reported realistically and somewhat
dryly, "it was no longer needed for that purpose. Accordingly it was re-
furbished and refurnished and equipped as a Hall of Residence, under
the charming name of Lake House." (It has again been converted into very
pleasant quarters for college employees.) Three professors, forty-three stu-
dents, and Miss Davis herself as the Head of House lived in it and had
320 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
their meals in what had been the old College Hall kitchen. She noted with
appreciation that the President of Student Government Association "left
her group of friends and joined me in Lake House" to help its popular-
ity. All halfway likely houses were leased in the village (including the
Elms, the Birches, and the Maples, which Miss Davis said comprised
"quite a forest"), and other students had rooms in private homes. When
college opened in the fall of 1914, there were 1,452 students, of whom 53
lived with their parents in Wellesley or adjoining towns, 773 were housed
on the campus, and 626 in the village. Miss Davis reported in summary:
"Of the 626 resident off campus, 159 were boarded in the same college
houses in which they had rooms; 100 were in college houses and took
their meals in near-by college dining halls; 250 were lodged in private
houses but assigned to college dining rooms, . . . leaving 117 for whose
board the College was not directly responsible." The situation was ex-
ceedingly complicated and unsatisfactory in every respect; only the serv-
ices of a large number of Heads of House, much time on the part of
Village Seniors and other Student Government officers, and forbearance
on the part of everyone made it at all tolerable.
We can easily comprehend the jubilation when the cornerstone of
Tower Court, the first permanent building erected after the fire, was
laid on January 15, 1915, and the dormitory was occupied on September
25 of that year by 194 students and twelve faculty members. Miss Pen-
dleton wrote with moving simplicity: "When the lights actually shone
out from Tower Court into the autumn evening, one realized how much
the darkness on College Hall Hill had meant to the college life."
Part of the story of Tower Court (in particular the controversy con-
cerning the siting of the building) is told in the chapter on the grounds.
Let us focus here on the building itself and its donor. The construction
of a large building with elegant, elaborate details in a period of little
more than eight months is almost incredible. So, too, is the fact that the
funds had been given for it and public announcement of the gift made
only three months after the fire. Louise McCoy North '79, the trustee
who had arranged for the gift and who made the announcement of it, de-
clared, "It is an imperative condition of this gift that the donor's name
be unknown." The stipulation was observed so scrupulously that even
in the Minutes of the Board of Trustees the donor was referred to as
"Mr. Smith" — always in quotation marks. Although anonymous, "Mr.
Smith" had definite views, among them: "I would suggest that this
group be built of fire-proof material and be Gothic in style of architec-
ture and built so as to form an interior court or quadrangle opening on
the lake, through the construction of one large dormitory, with an ap-
proximate capacity of 200, slightly to the north of the site of the old
building, with a smaller dormitory, having a capacity of about 100, flank-
THE BUILDINGS 321
ing it or at right angles on either side and running down to the lake. In
this group might be incorporated rooms for distinguished guests and
visiting or exchange professors, as well as suitable space for the more
formal and dignified social events and celebrations connected with the
College, in a measure restoring a little of the old 'Centre' idea so dear
to the hearts of the alumnae. Messrs. Coolidge and Carlson have made
a few drawings along the lines indicated above, and I commend both
the plans and the architects to your favorable consideration." The donor
was extremely generous, approximately doubling the amount initially
proposed for the construction and giving an additional sum, lavish in
terms of pre-World War I prices, "toward furnishing the main rooms
of the central hall" — and so it is that the Great Hall and other reception
areas of Tower Court have hand-carved woodwork of fumed oak and
various seals in stained glass set in some of the windows.
Two of the carved figures always especially delighted Dorothy Dennis
'14, who for many years was Professor of French and Director of the
French Center in Tower Court. The one of a woman holding a lamb
she said represented the B.A. degree; the other, of a woman holding a
child, the M.A. degree. A kind of academic genealogy is traced in the
seals in the north windows of the Great Hall: Emmanuel and Christ
Colleges, Cambridge; Harvard, founded by a graduate of Christ College
and attended by the founder of Wellesley; Wellesley, with the first seal,
that with Chi Rho in the center, which became the seal of the Alumnae
Association when the College adopted the present seal and coat-of-arms
in 1917. In the windows on the lake side of the Great Hall are the seals
of the colleges in the Seven College Conference (Barnard, Bryn Mawr,
Mount Holyoke, Radcliffe, Smith, Vassar, and Wellesley). In the win-
dows of the living room of the East Suite (which, when a college guest-
room, was occupied by many dignitaries, including Mme. Chiang Kai-
shek at the time of her famous visit during World War II when, accord-
ing to legend, the secret service mounted machine guns on the adjoining
roof of Severance Hall) are the seals of the institutions from which
Wellesley's presidents had received degrees other than from the Seven
Colleges. The University of Michigan is there in recognition of Alice
Freeman Palmer, Oberlin of Helen A. Shafer, Cornell of Julia J. Irvine,
and Brown of Caroline Hazard and Mrs. Irvine. The living room in the
west suite and in the two small reception rooms have in the windows the
seals of the six societies (Agora, AKX, Phi Sigma, Shakespeare, TZE, and
ZA) which were in existence when Tower Court was built.
The statue under the porte cochere of Tower Court by Charles Grafly
was the central figure for "The Fountain of Man" which he executed for
the Pan American Exposition. According to his daughter, Dorothy Grafly
Drummond '18, as he conceived it "the fountain was crested with an"
322 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
enigmatic double-faced figure of man. Below, with intervening architec-
ture, was a circular group representing the five senses, and still nearer
the base . . . were crouching caryatid groups symbolizing the struggling
virtues and vices."
At Commencement time in 1917 the memorial tablet over the fireplace
in the Great Hall was unveiled and the identity of the donor was re-
vealed. Ellen Stebbins Curtiss James, the widow of D. Willis James, busi-
nessman and philanthropist, died in April 1916 at her New York City
home, 40 East 39th Street. (I might add that when I visited it many years
later when it was the headquarters of the James Foundation, which was
established by her son, Arthur Curtiss James, I felt as if — except for
the coats of armor in almost every corner — I might have been in the
Great Hall of Tower Court. I suddenly realized then how much of Mrs.
James' personal taste was reflected in the decoration of the magnificent
dormitory she gave to Wellesley.) In newspaper obituaries at the time of
her death she was described as "the most beloved and public-spirited
resident of Madison, New Jersey." By proclamation of the mayor, all
business was suspended in that city for five minutes during her funeral
service, and "From every pulpit in the borough reference was made on
Sunday to her." Certainly Wellesley has good reason for gratitude to her
— and to the James Foundation, which in the 1950s and 1960s made sev-
eral grants to Wellesley, including one for the refurbishing of the public
rooms of Tower Court.
The "western dormitory," as it was known in relation to Tower Court,
was designed by the architects of that building. It, too, had hand-carved
woodwork and was built in the style of "the central dormitory," although
it was financed by gifts to the Restoration Fund and not by an individual
donor. The Trustees voted to name it Claflin Hall to commemorate
Governor and Mrs. William Claflin, two of the very earliest trustees,
whom the College had long wished to honor. As governor he had signed
the charter granted to Wellesley in 1870; Mrs. Claflin was the first woman
elected to the Board of Trustees after Mrs. Durant. Mary Claflin was an
author as well as an active volunteer in many charitable and educational
causes. Personal Recollections of John Greenleaf Whittier, Old Time
New England Life, and Under the Old Elms were among her publica-
tions in the early 1890s. An account written at the time of Governor
Claflin's death stated that "He was the first governor of Massachusetts
to believe in the legal right of female suffrage. . . . When he was gov-
ernor, legislative bills were enacted extending the rights of women,
bettering the condition of criminals, establishing a bureau of statistics
for labor, protecting destitute children, and regulating divorce." He
was especially interested in education (as his father, a founder of Boston
University and the person for whom a school for Negroes in Orange-
THE BUILDINGS 323
burg, South Carolina, was named, had been before him). In addition to
being a faithful trustee of Wellesley from 1873 until his death in 1905, he
was a trustee of Mount Holyoke, Wesleyan, and the New England Con-
servatory.
One special "tradition" of Claflin Hall is worthy of noting. On the
long wall of the dining room with its long refectory tables, students in
one of the studio art courses taught by Agnes Abbot painted murals ap-
propriately medieval in style. Shortly before their commencement seniors
for many years incorporated into the murals a small, appropriate detail
— which students the following fall gleefully discovered.
Severance Hall, "the eastern dormitory," was opened in January 1927,
ten years after Claflin Hall. Edward S. Harkness, a businessman whose
philanthropies extended to many colleges, in the fall of 1924 had offered
$100,000 toward its cost, on condition that $300,000 more be raised by
April 1. The undergraduates in 1924-25 raised $160,000, Elizabeth Sev-
erance Prentiss of Cleveland, who had been a student from 1883 to 1886,
gave $150,000, and, when the building was constructed and costs had
risen, some undesignated gifts to the Semi-Centennial Fund supplemented
the funds given specifically for it. Named in honor of the largest indi-
vidual donor, it was designed to house 126 students.
Stone and Davis Halls were completed in 1929, as has been noted
earlier. Then in January 1933, Munger Hall, the gift of Jessie D. Munger
'86 in memory of her mother, was opened. Of Georgian architecture, it
was the first Wellesley dormitory designed to be a cooperative house and
therefore the first to have, among other means of simplifying housekeep-
ing chores, an inter-communication system. Miss Munger, who lived in
Plainfield, New Jersey, for many years frequently and unobtrusively
visited her dormitory, delighting in presenting "extras" which she or the
students or the head of house realized would be pleasant.
Although these dormitories, beginning with Tower Court and ending
with Munger nearly twenty years later, had been built after the fire, it
was not until Bates, Freeman, and McAfee Halls were constructed
(Bates and Freeman in 1953 and McAfee in 1961) that all students could
finally be housed on the campus — something that had not been true since
the very early days of the College. Bates Hall commemorated Katharine
Lee Bates '80, poet and teacher of English Literature at Wellesley
throughout her long career, and Freeman Hall was named for the second
president of Wellesley, in whose honor Mrs. Durant had given a dormi-
tory on Norumbega Hill which was razed to make way for Pendleton
Hall. At the time they were built, so was the dining room which would
serve for the third dormitory in the group when it could be financed
and in the meanwhile for the students in Navy, Homestead, and Dower,
all of which, like the village dormitories, were uneconomical to operate
324 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
and unsatisfactory to live in by the mid-1950s. This dining room was
named for Sophie Chantal Hart, who taught English Composition from
1892 until 1937 and whose bequest made it possible. The third dormitory
was named in honor of Wellesley's seventh president, Mildred McAfee
Horton. (There was already a Horton House, a faculty residence, and
so it was a foregone conclusion that the dormitory would bear the name
which was hers during nine of the fourteen years of her administration.)
All three of the dormitories were carefully planned, with much student
consultation, to be "functional," and they incorporated various new
features, including student common rooms on every floor, study and semi-
nar rooms, etc. The living room of McAfee was very special, however,
chiefly through the good offices of the architect, Joseph Richardson of
the firm of Shepley, Coolidge, Bulfinch, and Richardson. He obtained
as gifts from the Hearst Foundation the fifteenth century French Gothic
stone fireplace enriched with fleurs-de-lis and coat-of-arms, and the
Gothic ceiling taken from a patrician house in Wels, Austria, an old town
situated in the Danube valley which was a trade center in the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries. The Flemish tapestry, woven in Oudenaarde in
the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century and presented by Louis
XIV to an Austrian general, was given by Mr. and Mrs. William D. Vogel
in honor of their daughters Grace Vogel Finnell '54 and Virginia Vogel
Mattern '55.
A building need, long felt and often postponed, was finally realized
when Alumnae Hall was opened in 1923. As early as 1908 the students,
who had for several years written and spoken about the matter, formally
presented to the Board of Trustees a request to be allowed "to raise
funds toward a students' building." The only recreation hall was the old
Barn, which had housed the College's Jersey cows until in February
1896 the Trustees voted "an appropriation of $75 with the proceeds of
the extra hay in the barn to arrange the large cow-barn as an exercise
and recreation room." That June Governor Claflin proposed that the
old building be plastered and heated, and when at the time of the No-
vember Trustees meeting he had ascertained that the cost would be about
$2,000, of which he pledged $500 and Mrs. Whitin $100, the Trustees
"voted to consent to the proposed plan, provided that the necessary funds
be obtained from friends." The students had used the Barn with grace
and imagination for plays, receptions, and other social events. But when
in 1908 the Trustees gave them permission to raise funds for a new
building they set to work in earnest, by Commencement in 1909 had
$5,000 on deposit in the bank and $2,700 in pledges, and persuaded the
Class of 1906 returning for reunion to give $800. Succeeding generations
of students had accummulated about $45,000 by the time College Hall
was destroyed. Although as a result of the fire the need for the building
THE BUILDINGS 3 2 5
increased, it could not be given as high priority as the academic build-
ings and dormitories. The Trustees were well aware of the situation, and
in March 1916, with the urging of Professor George Herbert Palmer,
voted to establish the Student-Alumnae Building Fund with gifts which
the Classes of 1916, 1917, and 1918 had made to the Restoration and En-
dowment Fund.
Finally the funds were in hand, and the cornerstone was laid at com-
mencement in 1922. A severe winter delayed construction, however, so
that the building could not be opened until December 5, 1923. It was
a great occasion for the alumnae, who celebrated "Wellesley Day"
throughout the country. On the campus, Florence Besse Brewster '05, the
chairman of the Alumnae Building Committee, gave a history of the
work of the committee and turned over the keys to the building to the
President of the Alumnae Association, Louise Pope Johnson '91, who
in turn presented the keys to President Pendleton as the gift of the alum-
nae. Ralph Adams Cram, the architect selected by the committee and
approved by the Trustees, "interpreted the thought of the architects."
And that evening the Boston Symphony Orchestra performed the dedica-
tory concert.
Another building which was a long time materializing was the Recre-
ation Building. Less than four years after the completion of Mary Hem-
enway Hall, Amy Morris Homans, the Director of the Physical Education
Department, had requested and received the Trustees' permission to
raise money for an addition to the gymnasium and, in particular, for a
swimming pool. Many alumnae who were students in the 1920s and
1930s have vivid recollections of raising money for it, dime by dime, at
carnivals on the green and through countless other projects. Plans were
drawn in the early 1930s by William T. Aldrich, the architect and
Wellesley trustee who had designed Munger Hall. Early in 1937 the
Trustees approved the leaflet which the Undergraduate Swimming Pool
Committee wished to send to parents, and on behalf of the Trustees
Miss McAfee also prepared an article for the Alumnae Magazine esti-
mating the cost of the recreation center at $500,000, of which something
more than $200,000 would build and equip the swimming pool and
locker rooms, and stating that "At least $50,000 more is needed to justify
breaking ground." Enough was obtained so that the Trustees decided to
build the entire building exclusive of the dance studio and the bowling
alleys (which, incidentally, are still on the list of unfulfilled needs). The
cornerstone was laid during Commencement weekend in 1938. George
Howe Davenport, a trustee from 1905 until his death in 1932, had given
$50,000 for the pool, and his widow gave an additional $30,000 for it;
the pool therefore was named in his memory. (The whole building was
simply known as the "Rec Building," although several wistful statements
326 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
indicated that if a large donor came along, the Trustees would be happy
to attach his name to it.) In any event, all of the years of planning re-
sulted in one of the best-designed pools in the country, with an under-
water observation window which not only aided instructors in their
teaching but also was the delight of photographers. The building was
dedicated during a three-day conference of the Eastern Society of Direc-
tors of Physical Education for College Women which was held in March
1939 on the fiftieth anniversary of the establishment of the Boston Nor-
mal School of Gymnastics and the thirtieth anniversary of its merger
with Wellesley's Hygiene and Physical Education Department.
In contrast to the long period of fund raising for Alumnae Hall and
the Recreation Building, the interval between the conception and com-
pletion of the Jewett Arts Center was amazingly brief — thanks to the
generosity and constant cooperation of the George Frederick Jewett
family. As Miss Clapp pointed out in her Report for 1953-56, "Rarely
does an institution have benefactors who can do so much and give of
themselves with their money, with modesty, and without dictation."
Mary Cooper Jewett Gaiser '23 in an oral history interview gave an in-
formal account of the way in which the Jewett Arts Center came into
being: "It was a fortunate chain of events. When I returned to Spokane
from a meeting of the Board of Trustees, I explained to my husband that
the College had a serious problem. The popular Art Department had
grown so rapidly that Farnsworth, the existing art building, was no
longer acceptable. The financial situation at the College made it impos-
sible to contemplate a new, efficient building. The Trustees had been
forced to agree to build a 'wart' on Farnsworth. I made a sad picture of
an inadequate addition spoiling the present building. To my great sur-
prise, he said, 'I have been considering making a substantial gift to
Wellesley someday. Perhaps this is the day.' He believed that an act
properly timed was many times more valuable than an act poorly
timed. We discussed the great value of such a gift to Wellesley and
Wellesley's influence in women's education. I knew Margaret Clapp's
deep concern over the problem and decided to call her immediately.
When we put in a call for President Clapp, the night operator informed
us that the President could not receive a call after 9 p.m. Early the next
morning, we called Miss Clapp, who was delighted with our news. She
immediately revised the rules of her office so that the President could
receive emergency calls from trustees at any hour.
"The Art Department, administrators, and Trustees decided to select
the architect from a long list of names submitted by many interested
people. Paul Rudolph was selected. He was an ambitious young architect
whose talent had already been demonstrated. The splendid building up-
held their judgment.
THE BUILDINGS 327
"While we were in the process of selecting an architect, we were spend-
ing a good deal of time attempting to develop a mental picture of our
ideal building. We gradually realized that we did not want to isolate
the Art Department. If we could have the Music Department in the same
building complex, the two departments could cooperate on programs and
exhibits. It was easy to go one step farther and plan a drama department
which could relate to the first two. The only thing that the donor in-
sisted upon was that the corridor leading from the front door to the
Music Department be wide enough for exhibition space. He did not
want it possible for a music student to reach her class without being ex-
posed to art. These superb corridor exhibits have probably had more
influence on the artistic interest of music students than any other device
could have had."
And so it was that the Mary Cooper Jewett Art Building and the Mar-
garet Weyerhauser Jewett Music and Drama Building, named in memory
of Mr. Jewett's mother, who was a student of music at Wellesley in the
1880s, comprise the handsome Jewett Arts Center and provide excep-
tional facilities for students of art, music, and theatre. "One lasting
sorrow came in November, 1956, in the death of Mr. George Frederick
Jewett, Sr.," Miss Clapp wrote in her Report for 1956-1958. He had,
however, taken part in the symbolic ground breaking on June 9, 1956,
and, as Miss Clapp noted, the College "had the wise supporting counsel of
Mrs. Jewett throughout the project, and the united family backing of
Mr. George Frederick Jewett, Jr., and Mrs. William H. Greer, Jr. (Mar-
garet Jewett 1951)."
The Jewett Arts Center was formally opened on October 18, 1958. A
unique cornerstone was laid for a unique building, and then the Arts
Center was dedicated at a ceremony in the auditorium. Other events of
the day included an exhibition in the main gallery of painting and
sculpture from the permanent collection of the museum, a formal dinner
in the still-unoccupied rooms of the music wing, and a concert by the
Budapest String Quartet which demonstrated not only the expertise of
the musicians but the perfection of the acoustics. The following day
alumnae and townspeople attended open houses at Jewett and at the
Library to celebrate the simultaneous completion for the first time in
Wellesley's history of two academic buildings.
Special note should be made of the museum collection, which covers
the full range of art historical periods and, in its high quality, attests to
the strong and imaginative leadership of its directors. The first was Alice
Van Vechten Brown, the director from 1897 to 1930, who, when the
museum was housed in the Farnsworth Art Building, arranged for sev-
eral important purchases, including a Roman mosaic, "Nereid Riding a
Marine Horse," the marble "Athlete" or "Discophoros" after Polykleitos,
328 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
and the late thirteenth century Italian double-scene panel, "Descent
from the Cross and the Burial of S. Clara," which was obtained on the
advice of Bernard Berenson. Mosaics from the excavations at Antioch-
on-the-Orontes, of which W. A. Campbell of the Art Department was
field director; Baroque paintings from Italy and Northern Europe; a fine
collection of early twentieth century paintings and drawings by artists
such as Leger, Kokoscha, Moholy-Nagy, Picasso, Lipchitz, and Kandinsky;
paintings of the 1960s by Olitski, Noland, and Bush; Futurist drawings
by Balla and Severini; contemporary acrylic canvases and medieval sculp-
ture — these are among the museum's prized possessions, most of them
gifts from alumnae and friends of the College and the Art Department.
A fitting tribute to John McAndrew, who was the knowledgeable and
persuasive director of the Museum in the 1950s, was the gift of "The
Triumph of David," a splendid oil by Luca Giordano. The works of art
displayed in the main gallery, the broad corridors, the sculpture court,
and even outside the building, where Rodin's sculpture blends with
that of the 1970s by Michael Steiner, exert the great influence Mr. Jewett
wished on the artistic development of all members of the college com-
munity.
The last major building on the campus constructed during Miss
Clapp's administration was the Wellesley College Club, built in 1963 by
vote of the Trustees as a center for faculty and alumnae and a place where
guests of the College and of members of the Club could be entertained
overnight and at lunch, dinner, and special functions. Although it was to
a large extent built with funds which the Trustees had been setting aside
for several years for these purposes, two rooms for which special gifts were
made should be mentioned. On the second floor is a large lounge, the
Wall Room, made possible by a bequest from Juliette Wall Pope '91,
who had previously given the Pope Room to the remodeled library. Miss
Clapp, in an oral history interview in 1972, was reminded of a very
pleasant visit she had in Washington, D.C., with Mrs. Pope who, prob-
ably because of sentiment for Wellesley and in deference to its President,
wore as a dressing robe the B.A. gown that she had preserved for some
seventy years. The lounge on the first floor, the Wayne Room, bears the
name of Gladys Dowling Wayne '13. In addition to giving the funds for
this room, she and her husband, who lived near Los Angeles, for many
years had the custom of making gifts at Christmas and on birthdays and
other special occasions to a scholarship fund which they established in
memory of their daughter who had died shortly before she was to have
entered her freshman year at Wellesley.
The newest Wellesley building to be used for educational purposes is
one of the oldest: Cheever House, acquired from the Hunnewell Trust, is
a wood frame mansion of thirty-seven rooms on four floors which was
THE BUILDINGS
329
built about 1894. It is located on twenty-one acres of woodland, open
field, and swamp land extending from Washington Street to the Charles
River and lying between Waban House, which has long belonged to
the College, and the home of a member of the Hunnewell family. Plans
for its use include offices in which Wellesley's faculty members on leave
and retired professors can carry on their research. It will also be a Center
for the Study of Women in Higher Education and the Professions, an
independent institute devoted to women's education and professional
opportunities which is jointly sponsored by the College and the Federa-
tion of Organizations for Professional Women and established with a
grant of $195,000 from the Carnegie Corporation. According to President
Barbara W. Newell and the president of the Federation, the Center will
conduct research aimed specifically toward application in women's edu-
cation and employment, sponsor symposia and training conferences,
provide a central location for the collection of research findings and be
responsive to the needs of women's organizations across the country,
and be host to "visiting scholars whose intellectual interests are consonant
with those of the Center."
The first "faculty club house," Horton House, was entirely different
in function and atmosphere from the present Wellesley College Club, but
it, too, met a need in its day when the faculty members who were not
housed in student dormitories had to find rooms and lodging for them-
selves in a town which, then as now, was expensive to live in. There
was little rental property of any kind and almost nothing that Wellesley
faculty members could afford. The single rooms in Horton, which also
had a dining room, were considered highly desirable, and the apartments
in the adjoining Hallowell House were deemed positively luxurious
when they were opened in 1922-23. (Edith S. Tufts '84, the Dean of Resi-
dence, reported of them: "They were promised for September 1, but the
summer was a trying season for buildings because of labor conditions
and September found both buildings full of workmen, and Horton in
particular far from completion. The delay was most trying to college
folk who needed their books and workrooms, but all things come to an
end, even the excuses of the contractors. The rooms and apartments were
finished one by one and the workmen pushed out.") They were built
on Washington Street opposite East Lodge on the site of the old home
of Mary E. Horton, one of the very early Wellesley teachers. The old
Horton homestead had been used as a convalescent home for students
and faculty during the influenza epidemic in 1918; the apple trees in
the courtyard, which were the inspiration for an annual apple blossom
and strawberry shortcake festival during the years Horton House was the
faculty club before it was remodeled in the late 1950s for faculty apart-
ments, must have helped restore the morale of the flu victims. Hallowell
33° WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
was named for another of the original faculty members, Susan M. Hal-
lowell, who made her home with Miss Horton. At the rear of the prop-
erty another apartment house, Shepard House, was built in 1930 with a
bequest from Julia Bone Shepard, who was enrolled at Wellesley in 1877-
78. The architect for all three buildings was Eliza Newkirk Rogers '00,
who taught the courses in the history of architecture in the Art Depart-
ment much of the time from 1906 until 1936.
Some of the other buildings which provide housing for members of the
faculty and their families warrant at least brief mention. East Lodge
and West Lodge now are quaint, rather charming small houses for fac-
ulty members. Ridgeway, on Norfolk Terrace, built in 1907, has had a
long history as a dining room for students living in the village and as a
faculty apartment house. Crawford House, named for the first Superin-
tendent of Grounds, whose house it was originally, became a dormitory
in 1923 and was "Maison Crawford," the French house, from 1931 until
1937. Since that time it has been assigned to a dean. During Miss Clapp's
administration thirty-one houses and thirty-one apartments were made
available on and off the campus for faculty members. In many respects
the loveliest on the campus is "Acorns," the one-story brick house near
Lake Waban and the Margaret Clapp Library. Its first occupant, in 1956,
was Teresa G. Frisch, Professor of Art and Dean of Students. The houses
on Service Drive beside the golf course were built beginning in 1949 and
continuing until the early 1970s, the duplex apartments on Weston Ter-
race in 1959. Since 1953, when it was substantially remodeled, Fiske
House has provided apartments for faculty members and administrative
officers, but it has had perhaps the most varied history, as well as one
of the longest, of all the campus buildings. Initially the public school in
the village, it was moved onto the campus in 1894 through gifts from
two trustees, William S. Houghton and Elisha S. Converse, and was
enlarged and equipped as a dormitory through a gift from Mrs. Joseph N.
Fiske of Boston. It was a "self-help" house until 1939, when it became a
dormitory for graduate students, chiefly those in Hygiene and Physical
Education.
Three of the Society Houses are also serving functions far different
from those for which they were designed. Alpha Kappa Chi, the society
devoted to the Classics, had the most diverse history: the house built in
1903-04 on the hillside opposite old Stone Hall was temporary headquar-
ters for the Philosophy and Psychology Department after College Hall
fire and was torn down in 1935-36; the second house, which was occupied
in 1924, served during World War II as the snack bar when the Well in
Alumnae Hall was the Navy's mess hall, and it became Harambee House,
a black cultural and social center, in 1970. Also during Miss Adams' ad-
ministration, Phi Sigma, built in 1900, and Agora, built in 1901, were
THE BUILDINGS 33 1
given to the College by their members. Phi Sigma is now the center for
continuing education and for personal counseling services, and thanks to
a gift in memory of Priscilla Allen Slater '16 from her husband, Ellis D.
Slater, Agora has been converted into the Slater International Center.
Shakespeare (1898), Zeta Alpha (1901), and Tau Zeta Epsilon (the first
house was built in 1900, the present one in 1929) continue to exist as
Societies with special interests in, respectively, Shakespearean drama,
modern drama, and art and music.
Two other buildings seen on the present map of the campus also
have changed roles over the years. Gray House, the home of a college
employee when it was built in 1914, was used by the infirmary as an
annex for contagious diseases from 1921 until the new clinic and hospital
were built in 1942. Thereafter it was a dormitory for members of the
domestic staff until the last few years, when it became a residence for
men guests of students during term time and a vacation house for for-
eign students during Christmas and spring recesses.
Although the College rented most of the village houses which fresh-
men, and sometimes seniors, too, lived in for so many, many years, it
owned a few which will long remain in the memories of alumnae. The
Eliot, located on the southeast corner of Washington and Cottage Streets,
where the parking lot for St. Andrew's Episcopal Church now is, was
originally a dormitory for some of the young women employed in an ad-
joining shoe factory. Named for John Eliot, "the apostle to the Indians" in
South Natick, it was purchased in 1886 by Horatio Hollis Hunnewell
and Mrs. Durant, who subsequently gave their interests in it to the Col-
lege. It was substantially enlarged in 1911 and eventually had sixty stu-
dents in residence and a dining room for about 130. This large, white
rambling structure was sold after the opening of Bates and Freeman
Halls enabled all students to live on the campus. Noanett, the other rela-
tively large village dormitory, stood on the corner of Washington Street
and Weston Road. The romantic, and possibly true, story goes that it
was named for an English Royalist who for many years masqueraded in
the area as an Indian chieftain. Miss Hazard reported in 1903 that "A
company of gentlemen in the village approached the college authorities
with a proposition to build a dormitory in the village which the College
shall rent. This has been done and the College has leased the building,
which gives a home to 60 students and table board for 25 more." About
two decades later, when the owners proposed a large increase in the rent,
the College bought the old brown-shingled house.
And finally among the departed — and apparently unlamented — build-
ings was the piggery. I became mildly fascinated to notice that it was
listed in every Treasurer's Report from 1887 until 1936-37, when the
item showing a $1,500 piggery disappeared. Realizing that was the first
332
WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
year of Mildred McAfee Horton's presidency, I could imagine her com-
ing upon the probably unlovely anachronism and requesting its removal,
and so in the course of an oral history interview I asked her about it. She
disclaimed any knowledge of its existence or its destruction, although
she did remember "the automotive equipment and a new grounds service
building near 'the Pit' " on the golf course which, the Treasurer's Report
for 1937-38 commented, allowed "the disappearance of the old barn
and the slow-paced horses plodding over the campus." The piggery and
the $1,315.35 blacksmith shop, one of the last to operate in this area,
quietly disappeared from view and the Treasurer's Report. And I learned
again the danger of uninformed interpretation of written records!
May Day in 1926: the Hen Coop; the
Chapel and Old Stone Hall in the back-
ground; Dean Edith S. Tufts and President
Ellen Fitz Pendleton watching from the
steps of Founders Hall.
Miss Pendleton, known as "The Builder"
because of her achievements in rebuilding
the College after College Hall fire, and
'Ariel," the electric car presented to her by
the alumnae.
1
IEmwHH
■tf
ri
92^^* '0% Wij00^h^^
^j^^^^us*
The Academic Quad: Green Hall, Founders Hall,
the Jewett Arts Center, and Pendleton Hall occupy
what was formerly known as Norumbega Hill.
The Chapel, Music Hall, and Lake Waban.
An aerial view of the campus from Home-
stead and the Wellesley College Club on
the left to Alumnae Hall in the distance.
Galen Stone Tower and the steeple of the
Chapel seen across the lake.
*Ty
~~,x
■**^*aGcr s«.
tf.
The Hazard Quadrangle (Beebe, Cazenove, Pomeroy, and Shafer Halls).
Founders and Green Halls viewed from
across the meadow.
Mary Hemenway Hall and the Recreation Building.
T
'llli Ulii 'IQ ; iB
t
The courtyard of Tower Court, where a sundial marks the site of College Hall Center. Claflin Hall
is seen on the left, Severance Hall is glimpsed on the right.
The main entrance of the Margaret Clapp Library.
The bust of Elizabeth Barrett Browning
and volumes from the Plimpton Collec-
tion pictured here are among the treasures
in the Rare Book Room.
Alumnae Hall, opened in 1923, was the fulfillment of efforts begun in 1908 for "a students' building."
The completion of the Science Center will
be the realization of a dream cherished
since the very early years of the College.
Five of the columns of College Hall stand
now as they did in 1875 when the College
was opened.
President Margaret Clapp, the Rev. Dr.
Palfrey Perkins, Chairman of the Board of
Trustees, and Dean of Students Lucy Wil-
son at the dedication of Bates and Free-
man Halls.
Miss Pendleton, trowel in hand, at the
cornerstone laying of Green Hall. On her
left is Grace Crocker, who raised the
funds for it.
President Mildred McAfee laying the cor-
nerstone of the Recreation Building.
George F. Jewett, Sr., speaking at the ground breaking for the Jewett Arts Center. Left to right:
Paul R. Barstow, theatre; Hubert W. Lamb, music; Agnes Abbot, art; Alexander C. Forbes, Chair-
man of the Trustee Buildings and Grounds Committee; Miss Clapp; Dr. Perkins.
Laying the cornerstone of the Arts Center: Margaret Jew-
ett Greer, Mrs. G. F. Jewett, Jr., Mr. Jewett, William Greer.
Mary Cooper Jewett Gaiser.
The Mary Cooper Jewett Art Build-
ing, which has what its architect
called "man-made ivy."
George F. Jewett Sr.'s desire to have all music students "ex-
posed to art" is a reality — and all visitors enjoy exhibitions
in the corridor leading from the entrance of the Arts Cen-
ter to the Music Building.
M
At the dedication of the 14-inch tele-
scope in 1966: Sarah J. Hill, Chairman
of the Astronomy Department; Presi-
dent Ruth M. Adams; Mrs. Margaret
Sawyer, the donor; John R. Quarles,
Chairman of the Board of Trustees.
rCV- ^i— "'-
Ground breaking in 1973 for additions to the Li-
brary: Trustee Harriet Segal Cohn, President
Newell, Librarian Helen Brown, Alumnae Associa-
tion President Dorothy Dann Collins.
Galen Stone Tower, visible from all parts of the
campus, is seen here from the terrace of Munger
Hall. The coat-of-arms is in wrought iron.
KATHARINE C. BALDERSTON
The Great Fire
The fire which destroyed College Hall in the early hours of March 17,
1914, was a decisive event in Wellesley history. It was so catastrophic
that the young college, only thirty-nine years old, with slender financial
backing, and already launching a million-dollar endowment fund for
much-needed salary increases, might well have given up in despair.
But Wellesley chose to live on. Although no undergraduate could
even faintly realize the extent of the catastrophe, those of us who lived
through it — the "fire generation" of 1914, '15, '16, and '17 — knew that
we were living through history, and having participated in it seemed
a privilege. Many accounts of the event have, of course, appeared, begin-
ning with Martha Hale Shackford's vivid and reliable account in the
April 2 issue of the Wellesley College News (the first issue after the fire),
and including the chapters in Florence Converse's and Alice Payne Hack-
ett's histories of the College. The fact remains, however, that few recent
graduates, or present-day undergraduates, have heard the tale, and a
goodly number have not been aware that the GREAT FIRE ever took
place. It seems appropriate, therefore, to include an account in this cen-
tennial volume of Wellesley history. The author has tried to authenticate
the narrative by appealing directly to living memories, where this has
been possible. If it succeeds in adding any facts, correcting any errors, or
introducing for the first time any Wellesley women who never heard of
the fire to a vital chapter of Wellesley history, the narrative will have
served its purpose.
339
340 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
I must begin with the founder, who created College Hall according to
his dream. Wellesley was blest both in the character and the gifts of
Henry Fowle Durant. His combination of moral idealism, intellectual
acumen, shrewd practicality, aesthetic sensitivity, and personal charm
was, to put it mildly, remarkable. His unflagging care in supervising the
builders' work during the four years of construction almost persuades
one that not a brick took its place in the rising walls without Mr. Du-
rant's eagle eye upon it. There were, we are told, seven million of them.
The planning began with the choice of site on the elevated north shore
of Lake Waban — now occupied by Tower Court, Claflin, and Severance.
The view from this bank was as breathtaking then as it is today, a view
which Matthew Arnold labeled "Extraordinary", and which lured him
away from his proper place indoors in a reception line.
The ground plan of the building was in the shape of a papal cross — a
central east-west axis broken by three intersecting wings. The central
axis was four hundred and eighty feet long (also given by differing writ-
ers as four hundred and seventy-five and five hundred and seventy-five
feet). Where the three shorter north-south wings crossed the central one
there were spacious stairwells. The most important intersection was the
central one — unforgettable College Hall Center. Here on the ground
floor were the two major doorways of the building, one on the north
side under an imposing columned porte cochere, the other on the south
side opening on a pillared porch, from which a series of steps led down
to lake-level. Stepping through either of these doorways, into the Center
itself, was stepping into a fairy-tale — at least so it seemed to an unso-
phisticated freshman from the far west, accustomed to severely utilitarian
school buildings. One found oneself in a lofty court, five stories high,
glazed to let in sunlight. Each floor skirted this court with a wide bal-
cony, protected by a hand-carved balustrade, each one of a distinctive
design. On the ground floor itself, at the exact heart of the building, a
large, beautifully designed marble basin held a tropical garden of palms
and other exotic plants. The arcade which supported the second floor
was formed of graceful, highly polished granite columns. This Center
was the pride and joy of Mr. Durant's beauty-loving heart. In it he suc-
ceeded in his aim to reproduce the character and beauty of a Roman
palazzo of the Renaissance. But it was characteristic of his shrewd prac-
ticality that at the same time he created the best possible place for infor-
mal assembly. Beginning with the seniors on ground level, each class had
its separate floor. Here, packed in like sardines, one could see all of one's
classmates. Here was the place for cheers and jubilation, or for important
announcements such as election results. Among all the buildings since
THE GREAT FIRE 34 1
created on campus, none has been able to rival the togetherness of Col-
lege Hall Center.
The Durants were sure that beauty of surroundings was of paramount
importance in the shaping of character, and they went to infinite pains
to create it, both outdoors and indoors. A story is told of Mr. Durant that,
when. a complaint was made of the too heavy load of religious and do-
mestic duties added to the students' serious academic work, he replied
by saying, "I hope to make [College Hall] so beautiful that the girls
will forgive it the work and the prayer."
No one today would wax enthusiastic over Mr. Durant's choice of
paintings, etchings, and casts of classic statuary with which to adorn the
corridors and public rooms of College Hall. I doubt if Mr. Durant had
ever heard of French Impressionism, which made its European debut in
the 1870s. But the pictures he chose were in the best tradition of the
Academic School then in vogue in America, and Elihu Vedder's Cumean
Sybil made a lifelong impression on many an undergraduate. We may all
live to see these pictures come back into favor again, if not as master-
pieces, yet as delightful period pieces.
The architectural style of the building itself, like the works of art it
housed, has long gone out of style, but it was a perfect example of its
type, the French Second Empire, developed in France in the reign of
Napoleon III, introduced in New York by William Morris Hunt and
John McArthur, Jr., and adopted in Boston by the architect Hammatt
Billings. Mr. Durant admired his work and chose him to design College
Hall. They worked so closely together that it is impossible to know how
much of the design was Billings' and how much Mr. Durant's. Billings
died a year before the building was completed, but not before he had
looked upon his handiwork and found it good. He labeled it his master-
piece. Mr. and Mrs. Durant seem to have been equally satisfied.*
The chief characteristics of Second Empire style were all abundantly
present — the exterior features of mansard roof and a multiplicity of non-
functional towers, spires, and pavilions, and the interior use of ceiling-
high windows, stained glass, and black-walnut paneling. The Browning
Room was a concentrated example of the interior style at its most elabo-
rate — carved teak furniture, flower-painted panels, stained-glass windows.
Curiously enough the building, in spite of its over-ornamentation,
achieved a quiet dignity and serenity. Its grand scale and commanding
* A carefully-made plaster model of the building may be seen in the Wellesley archives
of the Margaret Clapp Library, made after the fire by Edwin P. Monagham, the official
in charge of the building at the time of the fire. He worked from photographs and
from memory.
342 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
site contributed to this effect. Even the statues which adorned the halls
and public parlors were of heroic size, drawn to scale — Niobe, Diana,
Polyhymnia, classic figures all. The only statue of a modern woman al-
lowed to compete in size was that of Harriet Martineau, carved in granite
by Anne Whitney, the American sculptress. Miss Martineau was the
most celebrated "emancipated woman" of the Victorian period, the cham-
pion of all far-out causes from the abolition of slavery to the adoption of
Comte's Positivism. Although she was not enthroned on the west side of
the palms until June of 1886, after Mr. Durant's death, she surely would
have found favor in his eyes as an inspiring exemplar for his girls. She
became the focus of a favorite undergraduate rite — putting the freshmen
"through Harriet", which meant dragging them face down between the
pedestal and rungs of Harriet's granite chair. (Wellesley girls then as
now took their shining models with a grain of salt.)
Originally this great, benign building was like a medieval nunnery in
its self-sufficiency. By 1914, of course, many other buildings had relieved
the pressure, but it still contained living quarters for two hundred and
sixteen people, with dining and social rooms for both students and fac-
ulty, twenty-eight classrooms, an assembly hall (the old chapel) large
enough to seat nearly the whole student body, a large study-hall (the old
library), laboratories for the departments of geology, physics, psychology,
and zoology, all the administrative offices, and all departmental offices
except art, astronomy, chemistry, hygiene, and music. It was still the
nerve-center without which one could not imagine Wellesley to exist.
On March 16, 1914, College Hall wore its familiar aspect. A brief jubi-
lation occurred in Center after chapel to cheer the Wellesley debating
team, which had just returned from defeating Mount Holyoke at South
Hadley. The corridors, between classes, buzzed with girls' voices. By the
west-end elevator door the El Table functioned briskly. Mr. Tailby, the
village florist, displayed his rosebuds at Center to tempt all passers-by.
That evening a violin concert by a child prodigy, Nidelka Simenova, took
place in the assembly hall, the proceeds from which (which turned out
to be $179.76) were to aid the Bulgarian orphans of the Balkan War.
(Little did we dream that we would have destitute ones of our own on
our own doorstep before daylight came again.) The weather on that fate-
ful night was normal for the date, ranging from a low of 43° to a high of
49°. The winter snow was withering away, but holding in low spots and
shady places. As darkness fell a snow-fog formed, which became denser
as the night progressed. There was no wind.
Then came the terrible event. At 4:30 A.M., the very nadir of human
vitality, two seniors, Virginia Moffat and Miriam Grover, who shared a
suite on the fourth floor across the corridor from the zoology laboratory,
were aroused (I quote Miriam Grover's own words) "by a strange sound
THE GREAT FIRE 343
of crackling and falling embers, and an eerie orange light through the
transom of our door. As I went to the door Jinny followed me and said,
'Go tell Miss Davis' [Olive Davis, Head of Residence], which I did in my
nightie, barefooted. I raced to the other end of College Hall and banged
on Miss Davis' door. She did not come to the door but told me to let Miss
Tufts [Edith Souther Tufts, College Registrar] know, on the floor below,
and by the time I had told her the alarm had been given [by the sounding
of the great Japanese bell-gong on the third floor center balcony] and we
were all gathering in Center. I never went back to my room." Virginia
Moffat, meanwhile, had raced to alert the night watchman at the front
(north) door, who told her that the other watchman was on his rounds.
The only help he gave her, as far as she remembers, was the offer of a
fire-extinguisher.
While these two were rousing the authorities, two other undergraduates
on the fourth floor seem to have realized almost simultaneously the need
for a general alarm, and both thought of the great bronze bell-gong on
third-floor-center, normally used as a dinner gong. The two were Char-
lotte Donnell, a senior, and Tracy L'Engle, a junior, living near each
other on the fourth floor. Together they ran to the gong, on the floor
below. It is difficult to tell which girl struck first, as they remember it
differently. But the most likely reconstruction is that Tracy struck first,
giving the gong two resounding blows before handing the mallet over to
Charlotte and racing off to find Miss Tufts. Charlotte continued to beat
the gong until the electric corridor bells (at Miss Tufts' order) began
their clamor. Charlotte Donnell writes: "I was the last to make the gong
sound, which I have more personal feeling about than whether I was the
first to ring it." Actually, the gong sounded once more, though not
through the agency of human hands. Mr. Monaghan, the building super-
intendent, salvaging with his men at the east end of the doomed building,
heard one deep sonorous note as the gong fell through to the fiery fur-
nace beneath, and was forever silenced.
These undergraduates, however, who have been enshrined as the hero-
ines of the fire, refuse to accept that role, protesting that those who had
set up and enforced the strict fire-drill rules were the true heroines and
deserve the principal credit for the remarkable fact that no lives were lost
nor any serious bodily injury sustained. These rules had been drawn up
by Olive Davis in 1902 when she was appointed as Director of the Halls of
Residence by President Hazard. Then, when the Student Government
Association was founded in 1906, fire drills were placed under its jurisdic-
tion. Under its direction a fire chief was elected by the senior class, who
was responsible to Miss Davis. Each dormitory then elected its own fire
chief, who in turn appointed lieutenants, each of whom headed a squad
of twenty or twenty-five girls. On hearing the fire-alarm, each girl was
344 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1875-1975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
to close her windows and transom, turn on her electric lights, leave the
room, closing the door behind her, and march with her squad in single
file to an appointed place in first-floor center. The squad lieutenant had
to see that all regulations had been carried out before joining her charges.
The fire-chief of 1913 had insisted, against the judgment of Dr. Katharine
Raymond, the college physician, on permission for an unannounced night
drill, which had in fact taken place before the fire. Virginia Moffat and
Miriam Grover are sure that this night drill was a major factor in prevent-
ing panic when the ordeal by fire actually took place, many girls assum-
ing that this was simply another practice night drill.
Surely this mistaken assumption must have contributed at the outset
to the remarkable behavior of the students. But by the time that the
group were assembled at Center nobody could have been ignorant of
the reality of the fire. Firebrands were already falling on them from
above, yet all of them quietly awaited the signal for going. The unani-
mous testimony of all that went through the experience was that no one
spoke the word "fire," no one panicked, no one broke ranks to rush back
for some cherished possession.* Courage and self-control, it seems, are
as contagious as panic. Even when eight people were found to be missing
and Miss Davis had to postpone dismissal until they could be found or
accounted for, there was no outcry. The palms were beginning to shrivel
when the final dismissal took place. Most of the students left by the great
north door, or by the flanking windows, a smaller number by the south
door. Incredible as it may seem, the time-lapse from the first discovery
of the fire at 4:30 A.M. to the final exit of the last student was only ten
minutes.
In those ten minutes many crises threatened, many small dramas were
acted out. It was the faculty, sixteen of whom lived in the doomed build-
ing, who caused the greatest anxiety. Mrs. Julia J. Irvine, former Presi-
dent of the College and serving that year as a temporary member of the
French Department, had gone to Cambridge for the night without in-
forming anyone, and her locked door had to be broken open to ascer-
tain her absence. Miss Elizabeth Fisher of the Geology Department had
been ill and did not respond to the alarm, which made it necessary for
Muriel Arthur '15, fire-captain of College Hall, to return to the fourth
floor to rout her out, while the fire was already blocking the stairway by
* One must except the many short dashes back before the squads were in marching
order. One especially cherished tale is of Gladys Gorman, a junior who happened to be
treasurer both of her class and of her society, who remembered the dues money locked
in her desk drawer above, flew back three steps at a time, found her keys in her cher-
ished Princeton blazer pocket, extracted her money, carefully relocked the drawer, re-
placed the key in the blazer pocket and fled, leaving the blazer to burn up. Some un-
known Santa Claus later sent her a replacement.
THE GREAT FIRE 345
which she had ascended. (She should surely be numbered among the
heroines of the fire.) Miss Mary Whiton Calkins, the distinguished head
of the Philosophy Department, was spending the night in her office on
the isolated fifth-floor center, unbeknownst to anyone, but was mercifully
aroused in time to escape from that isolated and vulnerable spot. Her
first thought was for Miss Mary S. Case, her colleague in the department,
who was a wheel-chair invalid. When she reached her on the third floor
she found her already alerting others by wheeling herself from door to
door. Accounts differ as to how she finally reached ground-floor. Did she
slide down, as one account has it? Did two doughty students carry her
down, wheel-chair and all? Somehow, under Miss Calkins' watchful eye,
she reached safety.
There were, of course, moments of comedy in the tense drama. One
which the students found irresistibly comic involved two of the most
dignified and formidable of the resident faculty members — Miss Ellen
Burrell of the Mathematics Department and Miss Sophie Hart of the
English Composition Department. Miss Burrell was so convinced that
this too was "only a drill" that she refused to rouse herself until Miss
Hart across the hall, after two unsuccessful attempts to convince the
skeptic, slammed the door with the parting shot, "Well, burn then!"
This tale may be apochryphal. The occasion spawned legends. The skep-
tic in question at any rate did rouse herself and escape.
As soon as the students were released and could tear themselves away
from the awesome spectacle before them they began forming lines to
aid in the work of salvage. Many treasures could still be saved, including
all the contents of the Browning Room with its precious first editions
and the two portait busts of Robert and Elizabeth. Books, pictures, rec-
ords, passed in bucket-brigade style down College Hall hill and across
the green to the basement of the library. Everybody worked at salvage
as if her life depended on it — and all done, for the most part, in bath-
robes and bedroom slippers, in a temperature close to 40°. One ob-
server of the spectacle likened the girls' organized behavior to that of
honey-bees instinctively repairing their hive.
The senior officials in charge, Miss Tufts, Miss Davis, and Miss Mary
Frazer Smith, Secretary to the Dean, set memorable examples. No account
of the fire can omit the feats of Miss Smith. After failing to save her own
desk and files, she calmly took charge of the key to the Dean's office,
which she found on the rescued keyboard outside the north door, and
with Mr. Monaghan's aid rescued the academic records of all the Welles-
ley students from 1875 to the current year. It then occurred to her that the
recently completed schedule for the June final exams had burned up (a
very complicated schedule indeed), so she simply said, "I will write it
out while I still remember it," and proceeded to do so.
34^ WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
In spite of all the salvage there were, of course, enormous losses of
books. All of the Physics Library of 2,500 volumes and all of the Zoology
Library of 1,440 volumes burned up, as did all but 125 volumes of Welles-
ley's unique Library of North American Languages. This latter included
the invaluable collection made by John Wesley Powell of Grand Canyon
fame. The total loss in books was 5,661 volumes. The saving of paintings
and engravings was more successful, as these were hung largely on the
walls of the lower floors.
By six o'clock when those of us living in other dormitories were al-
lowed to get out and join the throng on the green we viewed a scene of
terrifying splendor. The flames by that time had swept all the way to the
east end. The mansard roof had collapsed, dumping its heavy load of
slates into the inferno below. The great towers flanking the north en-
trance had fallen. It was a windless morning as well as a foggy one, but
the fire created its own wind. Live embers were found as far away as Phi
Sigma's front walk. It was a small miracle that no other building was
ignited. The flames illuminated the swirling fog-banks till they resembled
a Gustave Dore illustration of hell.
Not so awe-inspiring but every bit as engrossing to the undergraduates
was the spectacle of our revered elders charging about in bathrobes and
bedroom slippers. Miss Pendleton was there, patrolling the bucket-bri-
gades to make sure that no girl needed more clothing. Olive Davis
swooped about like a Valkyrie, her long plait of gray hair flying out
behind.
Incredible as it may seem, the entire building was gutted by 8:15. The
structure that had been four years abuilding was destroyed in less than
four hours.
All students were ordered back to their dormitory breakfasts and told
to attend chapel service at 8:30. (College Hall waifs were somehow par-
celed out.) Like every other event of that momentous morning, the chapel
service was something never to be forgotten. President Pendleton assumed
there the stature of leadership she was never afterward to lose. After
giving thanks to God for the all-but-miraculous safety of all College Hall
inmates, she read the 91st Psalm and St. Paul's declaration of trust in
the love of God, from Romans 8, which rang with new meaning for all
of us. She then calmly announced that the College was dismissed for its
normal spring vacation, one week earlier than planned, and would re-
assemble in three weeks on April 7. The choir then marched out (without
organ accompaniment, as the electric power was out of order) triumphantly
singing, "Who trusts in God a strong abode. . . ." Before nightfall most
of the students had gone home or to the home of friends, in borrowed
clothing and on borrowed money (most generously loaned by the village
bank), leaving the college authorities to cope with what seemed an im-
possible situation.
THE GREAT FIRE 347
The way they coped is graphically illustrated by the fact that when
the College reassembled, three weeks later, that useful and much-maligned
wooden building which the students christened the Hen-Coop had sprung
up on the lawn between the Chapel and the Library and was ready for
use, with all necessary plumbing, wiring, and heating installed. It housed
all the necessary administrative offices and classrooms, the college post-
office, and the psychology laboratory. It remained in partial use until
March 17, 1931, when the college community joined in a glorious bash
of demolition.
It is not within the assigned scope of this narrative to tell the remark-
able story of Wellesley's phoenix-like rise from the ashes, or of how the
alumnae and friends of the College rallied to raise the necessary millions.
The very extremity of Wellesley's need loosened purse-strings, as did
the nation-wide admiration for the disciplined courage with which stu-
dents and staff met their ordeal by fire, and for the cheerful resourceful-
ness with which they plunged into raising money for the rebuilding. All
of this would need a book in the telling.
To return to the immediate scene of the fire on that fateful morning
of March 17, 1914 — what was left? There loomed the great ruin, its brick
walls still standing, but all the wooden parts gone and the roof fallen in,
leaving dizzying vistas down precipitous narrow canyons of brick. The
wood, all hard seasoned western ash, resistant to fire, when it once ignited
burned like a charcoal furnace in the basement, with such intense heat
that two weeks later workmen were unable to touch without gloves a
marble statue lying there. The fire smoldered until late April.
The only parts of the original structure which escaped relatively un-
harmed were the dining-service (north) end of the west wing and the
three colonnaded entrances, the south porch, the north porte cochere,
and the small east porch. The saving of the kitchen-dining end was iron-
ically due to the iron fire-wall Mr. Durant had decreed in order to save
the main building in case of a fire in the kitchen end. This fragment,
after serving many useful purposes, was finally torn down in 1962. An-
other fragment, the north-west cornerstone laid by Mrs. Durant on Sep-
tember 14, 1871, was discovered and saved by the demolition crew, and
was used as the north-west cornerstone of Tower Court — seldom noted
by the passerby. The three colonnaded entrances have received a kind-
lier fate. Many of the columns themselves were broken in the demolition
of the ruin, but were piled no farther away than the parking lot of the
power plant. Later, when the parking space was enlarged and the history
of the columns all but forgotten, they were unceremoniously dumped in
the margin of the Service Center on the golf course. Here quite recently
they were discovered by Eleanor Blair, alumnae president of the Class
of 1917, who had the imagination to see the value those broken pillars
34^ WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
might have for all lovers of Wellesley if they could be reassembled and
erected in an appropriate spot on the campus. With financial support
from the Class of 1917, they have been so assembled and erected in a
spot not far from the tablet marking the center of old College Hall, in a
graceful crescent at the foot of the steps leading up the Tower Court
hill from the Margaret Clapp Library. A bronze plaque close by tells
their story. Future generations of Wellesley girls may pause, read, and
seek further knowledge of that long-since-vanished center of the old
Wellesley.
The chronicler looks in vain for an answer to the inevitable query: how
did the fire originate? As far as I can discover, neither President Pendle-
ton herself nor any person in authority ever made a public statement on
this moot topic. Many hypothetical explanations were made — spontane-
ous combustion of chemicals in the zoological laboratory, damage to the
electrical wiring caused by mice, and faulty electrical apparatus were the
favored theories. Since none of these could be proved, college historians,
beginning with Martha Hale Shackford '96, Professor of English Litera-
ture, who wrote the superb (anonymous) account of the fire in the April
2, 1914, issue of the Wellesley College News, have simply stated that the
origin of the fire is unknown. A document which has come to my atten-
tion seems, however, to throw the weight of probability on "faulty elec-
trical apparatus." The document is a manuscript booklet of Wellesley
memories, now in our Wellesley archives, composed by Edwin P. Mona-
ghan, who was then assistant to the Superintendent of Buildings and
Grounds, and was himself directly in charge of College Hall. In it he
briefly but positively laid the blame for the fire on an electrical incubator
for the propagation of beetles in the zoology laboratory, housed in a
wooden frame which he considered easily inflammable and highly dan-
gerous, and about which he had warned his employers. No hint of this
has ever been made public. Could the motive have been a humane desire
to spare the feelings of the beetle-propagator? The professor in question
lost her life's work in the holocaust and that was grief enough for one
human being to bear.
Another question arises to plague the historian. Why did the fire, once
started, make such lightning progress that it could not be controlled,
even though fire assistance came from every surrounding town? The an-
swer seems to be that Mr. Durant, with all his practical good sense and
foresight, had not taken a realistic view of fire danger. The earliest fire
precautions had been ludicrously inadequate, consisting of twenty hand
pumps, each flanked by six pails of water and manned by a fire brigade
of six girls and a captain. (This might have worked effectively for a fire
in a waste basket.) As we have seen, the later fire-drill rules worked su-
perbly, but they were all designed for the safety of human beings and
THE GREAT FIRE
349
ignored the building. The very design of that building made it into a
fire trap, as several contemporary accounts point out. There were only
two fireproof walls in the entire structure, the one already alluded to by
which the kitchen-dining wing could be sealed off, and one separating
the trunk room on the fifth-floor center from the main building. We are
told also in Miss Shackford's memorial brochure that the floor of the
chapel had been made fireproof in order to protect the library below it.
What the fireproofing consisted of is not disclosed. The architectural
design of the building as a whole, with its unbroken corridors stretching
the entire length of the building, and the three great stairwells, especially
the five-story-high updraft of Center, were all ready-made flues for the
giant bonfire.
The main cause for the failure of all attempts to quench the fire was, of
course, the inadequacy of the water pressure. The fire hoses could not
reach above the third floor. Why the college authorities had not discov-
ered this before is a mystery. Perhaps they had, but had not envisioned
the possibility of a fire starting on the fourth floor.
The College Hall fire meant many things to many people. Everyone
had her own store of memories, often conflicting with those of others. But
on one effect of the fire I think all would agree: we were all shaken into a
fresh awareness of the value of life and out of our particular selfish
shells. And we learned that we could survive disaster. Miss Case, the
philosopher who escaped in her wheel-chair, expressed her own sense of
the fire's value for all of us when she said, "I have spent all my life teach-
ing people that things that are seen are temporal, and now we have the
chance of our lives to prove that the things that are unseen are eternal."
Despite assistance from the fire departments of all of the surrounding towns as well as that of
Wellesley, College Hall was gutted in less than four hours. This was the scene on the morning of
March 17, 1914.
9W
I 111 II
I i i
« I I
* I I ?'
M*!:U x :«x
3fc ■ -
The shell of the building as it stood on
the hill on May Day 1914, when sopho-
mores formed the seniors' numerals.
BARBARA P. MCCARTHY
Anniversary Celebrations
The Twenty-Fifth
When Caroline Hazard was inaugurated with due ceremony as the
fifth president of Wellesley on October 3, 1899, (the eighteenth anni-
versary of Mr. Durant's death), very little was made of the fact that the
College that fall was starting its quarter-centennial year. Of the dis-
tinguished guests who spoke at the chapel exercises and the inaugural
luncheon (five college presidents and George Herbert Palmer) only Presi-
dent Eliot of Harvard made any reference to the anniversary. "To be
sure," he said, "Wellesley College has twenty-four good years behind it."
To President Eliot, President of Harvard since 1869, six years before
Wellesley opened its doors, those "twenty-four good years" were still
part of a dubious experiment. With what The Churchman on October 14,
1899, termed "somewhat unchivalrous brusquerie," he proceeded to in-
struct the new President of Wellesley on the uncertainties still involved
in higher education for women: "It remains to show how an elaborate in-
tellectual training may be given women without affecting injuriously any
of their bodily powers and functions" and "It would be a wonder indeed
if the intellectual capacities of women were not at least as unlike those
of men as their bodily capacities are."
But pace Mr. Eliot, women in 1900 were firmly taking their place in
the academic world. A year to the day after Miss Hazard's inauguration,
on October 3, 1900, Smith College welcomed a large assembly of educa-
tional leaders to celebrate its quarter-centennial. Among its alumnae
speakers on that occasion were two Wellesley professors, Vida Dutton
Scudder, speaking for philanthropy and Mary Whiton Calkins, speaking
for scholarship. The new President of Wellesley was also on the pro-
gram, reminding the Smith assembly that she brought congratulations
35 1
352 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
from "I might almost say a twin sister college, since Wellesley and Smith
have the same year of birth."
The only official celebration of Wellesley's twenty-fifth anniversary
took place on Alumnae Day, June 27, 1900. It was a family party which
included the surviving founder, Mrs. Durant, and others who had known
the College from its beginning. (Strange now to think of a Wellesley
reunion in which the oldest alumnae were women in their middle forties.)
The main event on the program was an "historical address" by Louise
McCoy North 79, trustee and former member of the faculty, in which she
paid tribute to Wellesley's Founders, its Builders, its Benefactors, and
its Daughters. The "Wellesley type," she stated, was "not yet fully fixed"
but "we who belong to her brief past and those who shall immediately
follow us are forming it. To us is given the moulding of a Wellesley yet
to be." Following Mrs. North's talk came a dinner, "the largest in the
history of the College, over five hundred sitting down." According to
Miss Hazard in her President's Report for 1900, "the speeches on that
occasion were both brilliant and touching." Of Mrs. Durant's words she
wrote, "No one who was there would ever forget that speech and the
hush which fell at the end of it." Sad that so memorable a text was not
preserved!
The Fiftieth
By 1925 the higher education for women was well past the experimental
stage. In fact, in a talk at Wellesley's Semi-Centennial, President Lowell
of Harvard, President Eliot's successor, went so far as to call the College
a Pallas Athena sprung fifty years before, "fully armed and endowed with
all the wisdom of the time," from the head of Zeus (Zeus of course being
colleges for men). And in the same speech, with a slight change of meta-
phor, he conveyed congratulations from the men's colleges, "marveling
like other elder brothers that their sister had grown so tall and fair." A
feminist of 1975 might suspect some degree of condescension in these
compliments, but there is no doubt that they were sincerely intended.
Under Caroline Hazard and Ellen Fitz Pendleton the College had ac-
quired a solid national and international reputation. Alumnae and
friends everywhere were proud of its achievements and eager to do it
honor.
Plans for the fiftieth birthday were discussed as early as the fall of
1920, and separate committees set up to raise a Semi-Centennial Fund
(the achievements of the Fund Committee are reported in the chapter on
the College's financial resources) and to organize an appropriate anni-
versary celebration. The Celebration Committee from the beginning of its
deliberations visualized a solemn convocation, a sort of Te Deum in
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 353
the spring of 1925, with guests from other colleges and universities. But
the fiftieth birthday seemed to them to call also for something special, a
gala extravaganza that would be peculiarly Wellesley's. For two years,
according to Katharine Lee Bates, chairman of the committee, they dis-
cussed and rejected suggestion after suggestion until Marie Warren Pot-
ter '07 "came up with a veritable inspiration born from memories of
Miss Hart's classroom." "Mrs. Potter," Miss Bates wrote in the Alumnae
Magazine, "sped down to my study and we turned to the golden pages"
— of Plato's Phaedrus and the myth of recollection. Between them they
envisioned a great pageant which should represent landmarks in art,
literature, and science (the material of a liberal curriculum) in terms of
the soul's recollection of "Absolute Beauty." The committee with unani-
mous relief approved the idea and Mrs. Potter set out to create the script.
In the meantime other distinguished events were scheduled to mark
the year 1924-25, notably a concert by the Boston Symphony Orchestra
October 30, 1924, the first appearance of Serge Koussevitzky at Wellesley.
The Trustees sponsored three Semi-Centennial faculty publications:
Laura E. Hibbard, Medieval Romance in England; Elizabeth Manwaring,
Italian Landscape in 18th Century England; and Flora MacKinnon,
Philosophy of Henry Moore. (Later a fourth volume was added to the
series, Latin Themes by Adeline B. Hawes, who retired in 1925.) In addi-
tion to this official series, there was a book of Wellesley Verse 1875-1925
edited by Miss Shackford, 200 poems by 100 authors bound in Wellesley
blue. Mr. Macdougall prepared a Semi-Centennial edition of the Wellesley
Songbook and Adonais of the News contributed a volume of crossword
puzzles. The pages of the Wellesley College News attest to a flurry of
campus activities in 1924-25 — concerts, plays, dramatic readings, sales of
merchandise and personal services — aimed at aiding the Semi-Centennial
Fund.
But the event which dominated the College, beginning in the middle of
April, was the pageant of The Winged Soul, headlined in the News of
April 16 as the "Most Spectacular Project Ever Launched at Wellesley —
Embodies Plato's Doctrine of the Soul in a Presentation of Remarkable
Imaginative Beauty." Professional designer and illustrator Dugald
Stuart Walker, Director of the Studio Theater in New York, was engaged
to design the pageant and to direct it along with the author, Mrs. Potter.
The combination of these two, the News said, would make possible to
Wellesley the "expression of the transcendental," and indeed Fannie
Lester Hengst '26 still remembers how Mr. Walker strove to weld the
cast of over 200 into some sort of "mystical whole." After each inspira-
tional talk "he raised a vial that he said contained a drop of water from
all the bodies of water in the world and he took a sip of it." Mrs. Potter
meanwhile was concerned with the problem of how to make 180 indi-
354 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
vidual characters and five groups numbering from twenty to fifty "move
smoothly and exquisitely across the stage of Alumnae Hall" — this when
members of the cast were frequently absent from rehearsal for a "multi-
plicity of extra-academic engagements." In a letter to the News Mrs. Pot-
ter pleaded, "Success or shameful failure is literally in your hands." While
the huge cast rehearsed or cut rehearsals or cut classes to attend rehear-
sals, hundreds of other students were busy creating sets (twenty-three) and
costumes (189 individual designs) combining, as the publicity insisted,
"utmost economy with an unstinted outlay of artistic talent." All this
activity was to climax with the first performance of The Winged Soul
on Saturday evening, May 23, following a very simplified Tree Day pro-
gram that same afternoon. The following week would not only include
three more performances of the pageant, but also Float Night, and the
great academic convocation, the one day on which classes would be
omitted. During this week of celebrations students were asked to double
up, to sleep on army cots, in order to leave room for outside guests and
alumnae. All this ominously close to final examinations. No wonder an
occasional note of panic crept into editorials and free press in the College
News. Will the faculty "make allowances?" As Katharine Lee Bates was
to acknowledge later, "Both fatigue and strain there have been to a de-
gree far beyond what was anticipated," but, she went on, "Success is a
strong tonic."
And Wellesley's Semi-Centennial was a triumphant success beginning
with the transcendental pageant, unified by the continuous presence of
the Winged Soul, "a sophomore tall and slender in pure white" (Ellen
Bartlett Ballou '27). Intellectual history was unrolled through proces-
sions, dances, music, dramatic scenes, and "living pictures." All the critics
appeared to have had some favorite moment — the love scene from Romeo
and Juliet, for example, or the procession of artisans, or the death of
Brunhilde. The "living pictures" imitated life so perfectly in the TZE
technique developed by Hetty Wheeler '02 that many of the guests could
not believe they were posed. "Dante's Dream of Beatrice" by Rosetti,
according to Katharine Lee Bates, "deceived even so acute an observer as
the President of our twin college" (President Neilson of Smith). One of
the most successful pictures came at the climax of the pageant. It was
a stained glass window of the risen Christ in opalescent white, flanked
by two narrower windows depicting works of mercy, with the legend,
"Non ministrari sed ministrare." The composition must have been sug-
gested by the Durant memorial windows in the chancel of the chapel
(Christ in Glory, with smaller windows representing Call to Service and
Life of Service) which the alumnae were about to present to the College
as an anniversary gift. At the first performance, the pageant had an
epilogue representing the memorial in the chapel to Alice Freeman Pal-
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 355
mer with the "daughters of the day taking up the quest." But this per-
sonal application of the play's message must have proved anticlimactic for
it was cut in later performances. The News Hound lamented this omis-
sion in a limping limerick:
There was a young lady of pageant
Who flew in a terrible tangent
When the one scene in which she was seen
Was cut by an unfeeling agent.
Katharine Lee Bates prophesied that after the fatigue and strain were
gone, "through many years to come the memory of those long strange
weary vigils at Alumnae Hall will shine with an ever softer and more
bewitching light." In this softer light Fannie Lester Hengst recently
mused on "poor Lilith" (Lilith Lidsen, President of Barnswallows and
much involved in the whole pageant), "who had to climb a very very
high ladder to stand in a picture portraying Christ, and who with
examinations and the pageant and everything looked more and more
tired every rehearsal, so that we were always afraid she was going to fall
off the ladder before she reached the fresco, mural — whatever you called
it — that was up there high on the stage."
The great convocation was Friday, May 29, with sunny skies in the
morning and cooling rain in the late afternoon "when it would not spoil
anything." According to the Boston Globe the academic procession took
two hours to form. Delegates (including forty-three college presidents)
from 153 institutions were ranged in order of the date of founding, from
Oxford University and the University of Paris in the twelfth century to
Russell Sage in 1916. In line also were the trustees and faculty of Welles-
ley, important dignitaries of town and state led by Lieutenant Governor
Allen, whose daughter Mary was Marshal of this division, candidates
for honorary degrees, delegates from alumnae classes and clubs, repre-
sentative Wellesley students, and, showing that Wellesley does not forget
her friends, student delegates from those sister colleges which had sent
contributions to the restoration fund after the College Hall fire (Barnard,
Bryn Mawr, Mount Holyoke, Simmons, Smith, Sweet Briar, and Vassar).
Much thought obviously went into the program, which was keyed to
thanksgiving and joy from the organ prelude to the postlude. Singing
included the processional hymn, "Love divine, all love excelling," ar-
ranged by Professor Macdougall, an anniversary hymn composed for the
occasion by Caroline Hazard, sung midway through the service, and for
recessional Katharine Lee Bates's "America, the Beautiful." Two local
ministers pronounced the invocation and benediction.
The first half of the exercises included a greeting from the President
of the Board of Trustees, Edwin Farnham Greene, greetings on behalf
356 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
of the men's colleges and universities of New England from Abbott Law-
rence Lowell, President of Harvard, greetings on behalf of the women's
colleges from Mary Emma Woolley, President of Mount Holyoke and
former member of Wellesley's Biblical History Department, who wished
Wellesley "Godspeed for the next fifty years." Following the singing of
the anniversary hymn, the main address was given by James Rowland
Angell, President of Yale. In a serious indictment of current education
he questioned the intellectual commitment of most college students. Some
extracurricular activities he recognized as legitimate, but he urged that
many of the "sideshows" be eliminated.
The formal exercises culminated in the conferring of honorary degrees,
a momentous event since the College had previously given only one such
degree, Doctor of Science to Madame Curie in 1921. Now to mark Welles-
ley's first half century the degree of LL.D. was conferred on the two
preceding presidents of Wellesley and on three alumnae. The citations
read by President Pendleton were brief, but they convey admirably the
essence of these five Wellesley women:
Julia Josephine Irvine — "Fourth president of Wellesley College,
Greek scholar, inspiring teacher, who at the call of duty left the
classroom to carry the tasks of the president's office with rare insight
and gallant and courageous spirit."
Caroline Hazard — "Whose administration as fifth president of
Wellesley College was marked by high endeavor and visible achieve-
ment, a stranger in 1899, today a member of the Board of Trustees, a
generous friend, honored and acclaimed by faculty, alumnae, and her
fellow trustees."
Helen Barrett Montgomery — "Who adds to a wise and brilliant
Christian leadership the achievement of a scholar in the Centenary
Translation of the New Testament from the Greek text."
Annie Jump Cannon — "Author of the Henry Draper Catalogue and
responsible for the Harvard classification of the stellar spectra which
is accepted by astronomers of all countries, the foremost woman
astronomer in the United States, known and honored in other
lands."
Katharine Lee Bates — "For forty years the moving force in one of
the strongest departments in the college, cherished in the hearts of
all alumnae, scholar, poet, and author of the greatest of our national
hymns."
The press recorded the degree-giving with appropriate solemnity, but in
a letter from Miss Hazard to a friend we learn of one less dignified mo-
ment. "Did anyone tell you," Miss Hazard wrote, "about getting the
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 357
hood over my head after my degree? Miss Waite is not very tall and she
stood on the step below me and some way or other my cap got knocked
off, but I caught and jammed it on again." Miss Hazard evidently recov-
ered her composure in time to make a graceful speech responding for all
the recipients of honorary degrees. In Miss Pendleton, she suggested, Mrs.
Irvine had a "living memorial," for, she recalled, when she became presi-
dent twenty-six years before, her predecessor had advised her, "There is a
young woman in the Mathematics Department who will bear watching.
Keep your eyes on Ellen Fitz Pendleton."
For these memorable ceremonies the chapel, of course, could hold only
a few invited guests in addition to the academic procession. According to
the 1926 Legenda, most of the undergraduates and visiting alumnae had
to be content to watch the procession outside, marveling at the "gorgeous
array of academic robes and so many distinguished people." Then they
assembled in Billings Hall to hear the exercises over a loud speaker. For
distant hearers the whole program was broadcast over WBZ, the first
time a radio program had ever originated at Wellesley College.
Early plans had called for luncheons in various dormitories, but in-
stead a tent was erected on Tower Court Hill where all could eat to-
gether and hear more congratulatory speeches, this time by President
Neilson of Smith, Dean Gildersleeve of Barnard, and Professor Alfred
North Whitehead representing Victoria University in Manchester, Eng-
land. Professor Whitehead caught the imagination of all the reporters
with an account of a "true symbolic pageant," which he had witnessed
the day before as he sat "by the banks of the lake in the golden sunlight."
A young student had suddenly appeared, walked backward to the spring-
board and dived backward into the lake — "Young America walking back-
ward and diving into the enchanted lake of the unknown, and there is
nothing sinister about it." Of those cautious men who in the past had
opposed women's education he had this to say, "If we had taken the ad-
vice of that kind of man, we would still be eating acorns." At the lunch-
eon Miss Pendleton read congratulatory cables from Yenching University,
from institutions in the United States and England, and from alumnae
in California, Peking, India, Japan, and Paris. Indeed Wellesley alumnae
in Paris on the same day, May 29, were holding their own Semi-Centennial
dinner in the University Women's Club at 4 Rue de Chevreuse. ("Price
10 francs. Husbands welcome.") Parisian pride in their alma mater was
intensified by an anniversary gift to Wellesley College from the French
Government: two large Sevres vases and busts by Hudon of Washington
and Franklin, which had been presented on April 17 in a ceremony at
the Elysee Palace.
The rest of the day included open house with special exhibits of the
various departments, a Phi Beta Kappa dinner, addressed by Professor
358 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
Chauncey Tinker of Yale and President McCracken of Vassar, and, of
course, in the evening another performance of The Winged Soul, part of
which, like the events of the morning, was broadcast by radio. During
rehearsals of The Winged Soul the cast had been frequently reminded
that the pageant would "represent Wellesley to the world." From notices
in newspapers and journals it is clear that not only in the pageant, but
in the whole Semi-Centennial celebration, Wellesley projected a very
attractive public image. The Boston Post, for example, termed the events
a "tribute to educated, emancipated womanhood and to this women's
college which in its brief fifty years has done so much to make this eman-
cipation possible." To judge from editorials in the News, students of
Wellesley too were suddenly aware of the larger meaning of the College,
that "it is infinitely more and infinitely greater than the present student
body." Reviewing the past and proud of the present, they were also think-
ing ahead to the future, wondering "What will it be like when I come
back for the centennial?" A reporter in the Boston Globe caught this
Semi-Centennial mood in a snatch of conversation late in the day between
a father and his daughter, one of the energetic "undergraduates with
their short skirts and bobbed hair" (the flappers of 1925), who had earlier
been starting taxis and directing traffic. "I wonder," the girl said, "what
it will be like fifty years from now." The father replied that he couldn't
imagine, but went on to point out that he and his wife in their college
days never could have guessed that their daughter would be as she was,
"easy-mannered, frank, unafraid of any situation, conducting herself for
all the world like any man at college."
The Seventy-Fifth
In the Alumnae Magazine for February 1950 Helen Willis Knight '25,
writing of "the middle twenties" (the era of "flappers" and of "flaming
youth") showed that after twenty-five years the Semi-Centennial was still
vivid in her mind. "All the world," she wrote, "was celebrating Wellesley.
Her alumnae from the wide wide world and 150 other colleges and uni-
versities had come to honor her. There were bands playing, marquees on
Tower Court Green, honorary degrees for three of Wellesley's daughters,
Chauncey Tinker speaking in the chapel, the Phi Beta Kappas banquet-
ing together, and the Winged Spirit over all. To be a senior then was very
heaven." There is an exuberance even about this nostalgic memory which
is strikingly different from the sober mood in which Wellesley approached
its three-quarter mark. "No pageants please! No Winged Souls!" This
was the plea of those faculty members who had lived through the Semi-
Centennial. Extravaganzas may have been delightful in the middle twen-
ties when the world had been made safe for Democracy and for Ivory
Towers, but the middle forties living in the shadow of the atomic bomb
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 359
had serious questions about the future. Any appropriate observance of
the 75th would have to consider some of the problems that were troubling
educated women, including even questions about the value of a Wellesley
education. Beginning in 1947, the Wellesley Magazine tried to answer
some of these questions in articles that were variously entitled "The Pur-
pose of a Liberal Education," "Quality vs Quantity in Higher Educa-
tion," "Higher Education — to What End?" and "Why Support a
Woman's College?" A symposium of faculty and students explored the
specific question "Why Wellesley?", a query which the Magazine later
attempted to answer by specific accounts of the work of individual depart-
ments and of interdepartmental activities. At the same time through the
Magazine, the chairman of the 75th Fund Campaign, Marie Rahr Haffen-
reffer '11, was informing alumnae that only one thing could insure
Wellesley the essentials of good education (i.e., stimulating teachers, able
students, excellent facilities) and that one thing was money.
Fund raising started before program planning with the formal cam-
paign being launched at dinners, in Boston at the Statler Hotel October
1, 1947, and in New York at the Waldorf-Astoria October 15. At both of
these functions, Wellesley education was visibly symbolized by Nancy
Bartram '48, President of College Government, Look Magazine's choice
of the year for the typical American college girl. As serious fund raising
got underway among alumnae and friends of the College, the campus too
became involved; witness faculty jelly-making, white elephant sales, stu-
dent offers to serve breakfast in bed — for a price. In fact the pressure
became so intense that the night before Commencement in 1948, a senior
dreamed she had failed her 75th Anniversary Fund examination. This
even before the official observance, which was scheduled for two years,
1948-49 and 1949-50.
The observance opened auspiciously when on October 5, 1948, the
Wellesley Concert Series presented the Boston Symphony Orchestra with
Dr. Serge Koussevitzky, then in his twenty-fifth and final year as its con-
ductor. To mark Dr. Koussevitzky's own anniversary the College tendered
him a reception at which many of the guests recalled with pleasure his
first concert at Wellesley when early in his Boston Symphony career he
had similarly opened the celebration of the College's Fiftieth. Two other
anniversary events perhaps deserve special mention: a Wellesley Theater
production of The Two Orphans as originally performed in 1875, and a
mammoth exhibition in Farnsworth of faculty and staff baby pictures,
with prizes for correct identification. My picture, I recall, was identified
both as Miss Manwaring and Miss Moses.
It was agreed early in the planning of the 75th that the principal com-
memoration of Wellesley's founding should take the form of two major
conferences, one in the field of science in the spring of 1949, the other in
360 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
social sciences and humanities the following fall. A planning committee,
headed by Philosophy Professor Mary Coolidge, had made this recom-
mendation after considering various ways in which the community might
be stimulated to intellectual debate. Distinguished authorities, it was
decided, should be invited to the College for several days to discuss im-
portant issues, and regular classes would be dismissed. The conferences
would be sponsored by the Mary Whiton Calkins Fund, established in
memory of a great Wellesley teacher who had been the first woman presi-
dent both of the American Psychological Association and of the Ameri-
can Philosophical Association. It was left to two new committees, headed
by Professors Mary Griggs and Louise Overacker, to arrange the pro-
grams.
The Science group chose "Energy" as the general theme of the first
conference, which was scheduled for March 16, 17, 18 to coincide with the
date of the signing of the college charter in 1870 and of the College Hall
fire in 1914. On the first evening Harvard President James B. Conant,
participating in the Wellesley anniversary as his predecessors had done
twenty-five and fifty years before, gave the keynote address on "Science
and Common Sense." His speech was broadcast in the ballroom to an
overflow audience. Talks the following two days focused on different
aspects of energy: "Utilization of Atomic Energy" by Robert T. Bacher,
of the Atomic Energy Commission; "Energy of the Stars" by Cecilia
Payne Gaposchkin, Astronomer at Harvard College Observatory; "Psy-
chology and Physics" by Wolfgang Kohler, Research Professor at Swarth-
more; "Some Aspects of Biological Energy" by Gerty T. Cori, recipient
(with her husband) of a Nobel prize; and "Man and Energy in the Mod-
ern World," by Edward W. Sinnott, Director of Sheffield Scientific School.
Dr. Sinnott's speech was delivered on the final day at an Honors Convo-
cation where the academic procession included delegates from forty-three
New England colleges and universities and from women's colleges in
other sections of the United States. Each delegate walked in the proces-
sion with the Wellesley faculty member who had been assigned as his
host for the conference. My partner was a Jesuit physicist from Boston
College from whom I learned a great deal of science during the course
of the three days. As his hostess I was invited to a Physics party at Pendle-
ton where we admired the equipment and drank tea from laboratory
beakers. But I think what pleased my guest most about the conference
was the postcard which arrived in his monastic mail, naming a lady part-
ner for him at Wellesley.
In connection with the Science Conference the Department of Physical
Education staged a lively demonstration of human energy in such activi-
ties as dance, swimming, and badminton; and the library contributed two
memorable exhibits prepared by Research Librarian Hannah French:
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 36 1
"Rare Books in the Sciences," over fifty incunabula and first editions
dealing with discoveries from 300 B.C. to 1934 A.D., and "Atomic Energy
for the Citizen of the World," a collection of books, pamphlets and
articles on the use of atomic energy in war and peace. The Science Con-
ference was a new all-college experience and a happy one. Typical of
student reaction was the comment of an editorial writer in the News,
who admitted that she had reacted against all science in "the feeling that
with the atomic bomb it had overstepped its moral bounds," and who
was grateful now for a new perspective. The speakers, she said, "made
us realize that science is after all a liberal art." Mrs. Horton in her last
President's Report expressed satisfaction that the conference had excited
the undergraduates to "real intellectual curiosity and enthusiasm," and
had "demonstrated the creative possibilities of inter-departmental activi-
ties." The importance of the conference was also recognized outside the
College, as witness an editorial "Wellesley Celebrates" in the New York
Times, March 21, 1949. After listing some of the "celebrities" who par-
ticipated, the writer linked Mr. Durant's vision of the part that women
could play in science with the demonstrated success in scientific fields of
so many Wellesley alumnae. "Science has reason to thank Wellesley for
preparing some of its more important recruits in accordance with the
highest academic standards."
The second anniversary conference held October 16, 17, 18, also proved
to be a genuine all-college experience. Its topic, "Constructive Forces in
Education," was explored and virtually exemplified by the participants —
creative artists, scholars, administrators, experts in journalism and in
politics. They came not only from the United States, but from Great
Britain, Sweden and India. Of the sixteen, ten were women. Some arrived
in time for participation in classroom discussions. Almost all stayed at
Wellesley for the entire conference so that sharing of ideas went on be-
yond the formal session. There was this time no academic procession, no
invitations extended to sister colleges. Wellesley would be inaugurating
its new president, Margaret Clapp, in March, and as Miss Overacker
explained to Academic Council, "to ask the same college to send delegates
to three occasions within so short a time might be considered an imposi-
tion rather than an honor." Instead the College chose to honor some of
its own graduates who had distinguished themselves in the field of edu-
cation.
Eighty-two Wellesley educators returned to the campus to participate
in the conference and to meet the current undergraduates. Every alumna
guest as well as every speaker was assigned a student hostess who took
responsibility for the comfort and happiness of her special guest. This
succeeded so well that when one of the speakers was asked recently for
her long-range impression of the conference, her first thought was of the
362 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
student escorts. "Mine," she said, "was wonderful!" Students escorted
their guests to various extra-curricular activities, including an eighteenth
century concert in Billings Hall on Sunday afternoon, and tea on Tues-
day at the Farnsworth Art Building, which was observing the 75th with
an important loan exhibit of American water colors. The library had
many of Wellesley's rare editions on display as well as an impressive ex-
hibit of publications by speakers at the conference. In Alumnae Hall one
could study the history of textbooks as illustrated by the Norton collec-
tion of the Education Department, or note trends in the employment of
Wellesley graduates 1890 to 1949, through charts and graphs made by
the Placement Office. The Page School offered an exhibition of the teach-
ing of reading and a chance to observe the school in session through
one-way screens.
The formal program opened on Sunday with the college chapel service
where the Reverend John C. Schroeder preached on "Christianity and
Our Education." In the evening, with Margaret Clapp presiding, a panel
of three (Sirarpie Der Nersessian, Professor of Byzantine Art at Harvard's
Dumbarton Oaks research center and a former Wellesley art professor;
Marjorie Hope Nicolson, Professor of English at Columbia graduate
school and former Dean of Smith College; Millicent Carey Mcintosh,
Dean of Barnard College) tried to predict "The Next Seventy-Five Years
in the Education of Women." On Monday afternoon there were two pan-
els, "The Role of the Creative Artist in Education" (artist Patrick Mor-
gan, writer Katherine Anne Porter, musician Aaron Copland), and "The
Financial Future of the Privately Endowed College" (Agnes E. Meyer,
journalist; Seymour Edward Harris, Professor of Economics at Harvard;
Mabel Newcomer, Professor of Economics at Vassar). Monday evening
Senator Frank Graham, former President of the University of North
Carolina, spoke on "Constructive Forces in Higher Education in Amer-
ica." The final day, Tuesday, was international in scope, including two
panels: "Contributions of the East to the West" (Wing-Tsit Chan, Pro-
fessor of Chinese Culture at Dartmouth, and Lakshmi N. Menon, chief of
the section on the Status of Women at the United Nations) and "Con-
structive Forces in Education in Europe" (Karin Kock, first woman ap-
pointed to the Swedish cabinet, and Vera Micheles Dean, research di-
rector of the Foreign Policy Association). The climax of the conference
was a talk that same evening by Barbara Ward, foreign editor of the
London Economist, on "Education in the Free World." Miss Clapp intro-
duced Miss Ward. By chance both had chosen to wear basic black and
pearls.
The Wellesley College News enterprisingly recorded all the talks and
question periods by means of audograph, described as "a new invention
which records on plastic records that can be played back by earphones
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 363
while the transcriber types." The device may not yet have been fully
perfected, for history (via the News) records that one technician (Mari-
anne Snedeker '50), while she was preparing to record the final lecture,
plugged in the cord and immediately rose three feet from the floor back-
stage, thus nearly spoiling Barbara Ward's lecture. The verbatim tran-
script of the conference, with biographies of the speakers, was published
by News in April 1950. The talks are too diverse and too individual to
admit of any quick summary. Reading them again, some points impress
me, I think, because they were made a quarter of a century ago, e.g.,
Wing-Tsit Chan's conviction that the two parties in the Chinese civil war
would eventually arbitrate and compromise ("War in China is a terrible
thing, not only because of its destruction. It is terrible because it is so
un-Chinese.") and Barbara Ward's warning that in education "technology
begins to take the place of the old facts of good and evil." Miss Der Ner-
sessian referred to the masculine mistrust that hindered women scholars —
today we would call it male chauvinism. The panel on the Education
of Women seemed to accept as a fact of life that married women, i.e.
most women, would continue for the next seventy-five years to play the
single role of wife-and-mother. And Seymour Harris brought bad news
in a fund-raising year — wealthy people in 1949 were contributing a much
smaller percentage to educational institutions than they had in 1929 or
even 1939.
When the conference with all its stimulating contacts was over an edi-
torial writer in the News asked, "What do we do next? Return to steno-
graphic duty in the classrooms?" Some students probably did just that,
but it is my memory that classes in the ensuing weeks kept coming back
to questions that sprang directly from the conference. Classical students,
for example, were much interested in Barbara Ward's analysis of our
heritage from Greece and Rome. They had heard the idea before but it
seemed to mean more to them when presented in company with other
constructive forces in education.
In the original plans for the conference India's ambassador, Vijaya
Lakshmi Pandit, had been scheduled to speak on the East-West panel,
but had been forced to cancel the engagement when Prime Minister
Nehru, her brother, announced an official October visit to the United
States. As it happened, Mrs. Pandit was on campus on October 21, three
days after the conference ended, when Mr. Nehru made a visit to Welles-
ley, the only women's college on his itinerary. Since the hour of his ar-
rival was uncertain the College observed business-as-usual, with the un-
derstanding that the carillon would summon everyone in time for a mass
assembly. The party, which included Mrs. Indira Gandhi, Nehru's
daughter, arrived at the President's House escorted by three policemen
on motorcycles with sirens screaming. There they met with members of
364 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
the faculty who had taught Mrs. Pandit's daughters, Chandralekha '45
and Nayantara '47. Afterwards, as Mr. Nehru stood on the balcony of the
President's House looking out over the beauty of the lake and the autumn
foliage, the carillon rang out and the tune it played was the Indian na-
tional anthem. The Prime Minister was taken by surprise and there were
tears in his eyes. When he and his party reached the green beside the
chapel, the whole college was moving out to greet them. Some of the
students were already perched on branches of the trees for a better look
at Wellesley's distinguished guests. It was an exciting close to a mem-
orable week.
In 1950 Wellesley's famous date March 17 saw the inauguration of
Margaret Clapp as eighth president of Wellesley. To mark the occasion
the College, which in seventy-five years had given only ten honorary de-
grees, outdid itself in generosity and voted to confer this distinction on
eleven women. The recipients included former Wellesley President Mil-
dred McAfee Horton, and three alumnae: Belle Sherwin '90, pioneer in
the League of Women Voters, Dr. Connie Guion '06, Chief of the Gen-
eral Medical Clinic of the New York Hospital-Cornell University Med-
ical Center, and Caroline Taylor White '15, President of the New York
Y.W.C.A. and President of the Wellesley Alumnae Association, "a most
fitting representative of the large majority of Wellesley alumnae who as
wives and mothers and volunteer workers are steadily and capably foster-
ing the ideals of our free society." Delegates from eighty-six colleges and
universities joined in the academic procession to the auditorium of
Alumnae Hall, where the exercises included addresses by Miss Clapp and
by Archibald MacLeish. Following the inaugural, there was a luncheon
in the ballroom of Alumnae Hall at which Edward Weeks, Wellesley
trustee and editor of the Atlantic Monthly, acted as master of ceremonies.
Speakers were three of the women who had just received honorary de-
grees: Mrs. Horton, Dr. Guion, and Indian Ambassador Mrs. Pandit.
Recalling the high moments of 1949-50's 75th, the Wellesley News
listed one other event which was a little like a reprise of the Nehru visit.
On May 25, Begum Liaquat Ali Khan, wife of the Prime Minister of
Pakistan, a state which was not yet three years old, visited Wellesley, the
only women's college included in the United States tour which she was
making with her husband. The carillon this time played the Pakistan
national anthem as a signal for the students to assemble in the Hay Out-
door Theater where the distinguished visitor, wearing native dress, spoke
on Pakistan women in the modern world.
The concluding rites in the observance of Wellesley's 75th belonged
largely to the alumnae. Over 2,500 of them came back to the campus,
many arriving at least a day before commencement, June 12. Plans for
their return had been long in the making, under the general chairman-
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATIONS 365
ship of Cynthia Dudley Post '34. Arrangements had been made to house
them, not only in college dormitories, but also in Dana Hall and Pine
Manor, and in the homes of local alumnae. And on the athletic field a
tremendous celebration canopy, "the largest in New England," had been
set up for their meetings. The alumnae program began on Sunday after-
noon with a chapel service conducted by the Rev. Dr. Palfrey Perkins,
Chairman of the Board of Trustees. That evening at ten o'clock, after
baccalaureate vespers, a mammoth step-singing took place on and around
the chapel steps. On Commencement Day alumnae attended an afternoon
reception at which Miss Clapp and Mrs. Horton paid honor to Marie
Rahr Haffenreffer '11, Chairman of the 75th Anniversary Fund. In the
evening after class suppers came a program of light entertainment in
Alumnae Hall: an old-fashioned glee club directed by Hetty Wheeler
'02, followed by a fashion-show drama, with scenes from 1875, 1890,
1900, and costumes of the flapper 20s, the depression 30s, the blue-jeaned
40s. The final diversion of the evening was a faculty quiz show in which
(I speak as the M. C. on that occasion) a panel of six professors proved
to be "well rounded" exhibitionists, but the difficult questions were an-
swered from the front rows by the oldest reunioning classes.
The returning alumnae had their traditional fun as "old grads" on
Monday night. On Tuesday as educated women seeking answers to the
problems of 1950 they gathered for a day-long conference on "Significant
Sources of Security." It was a well-planned program, a fitting climax to
the college conferences on "Science" and on "Constructive Forces in
Education." The first speaker, Harry A. Overstreet, author of The Ma-
ture Mind, talking on "The Individual in a World Afraid," analyzed
the pervading sense of insecurity (the word for it in the 1970s is anxiety).
Dr. Frances L. Ug '25, Research Associate in Child Development at Yale,
suggested the basis for secure adult attitudes, "Foundations of Security
in Childhood." The next two speakers looked to art and religion as
sources of stability and strength: Francis Henry Taylor, Director of the
Metropolitan Museum of Art, speaking on "The Arts and Individual
Security" and the Reverend James A. Pike, Chaplain and Chairman of
the Department of Religion at Columbia, on "Inner Security through Re-
ligion." Finally Paul G. Hoffman, Administrator of the Economic Coop-
eration Administration, broadened the theme to "Search for the Road to
World Security." During the speeches the sides of the celebration canopy
were rolled up so that the listeners enjoyed a delightful breeze. It was
probably the most attentive and surely the largest class ever assembled
at Wellesley College.
If anyone would like to stage a pageant for the Centennial, he might
want to consider a masque which was published but never performed.
The main setting is Mount Olympus. Characters include you-naughty-
3 66
WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
girl, you-dirty-boy, Mr. Durant (who removes his frock coat to stand re-
vealed as the spirit of Wellesley with golden hair and Wellesley-blue
eyes), Spirit of College Hall Fire, Spirit of the Fund, and Divine Idea of
New England Conscience, attended by Chaperone Rules dressed as vestal
virgins. In one scene anti-masquers busy themselves with drinking, smok-
ing, petting, murder and arson, while a banner in the sky reads, "It does
not shock us, but it offends our taste." This pageant to end all pageants
appeared in the 1925 Legenda with the suggestion that "possibly it may
grace our centenary fiesta." Sorry, editors, masques and anti-masques lose
flavor with the years more than do ritual convocations and learned lec-
tures. Your libretto is vintage 1925!
Wellesley's first academic procession at the inauguration of
President Hazard in 1899.
President Hazard on the steps of the chapel
The twenty-fifth anniversary celebration
in 1900. President Hazard wearing a bro-
caded dress is seated in the front row.
Scene from "The Winged Soul," the Semi-Centennial pageant in 1925.
The Semi-Centennial academic procession, led by Miss
Pendleton, Miss Hazard, and visiting college presidents.
i rr r*
The director of "The Winged Soul."
Delegates from foreign universities to the Semi-Centennial
celebration included, on the left, Alfred North Whitehead.
'Wellesley's most beautiful girls" usher at a benefit performance for the Semi-Centennial Fund.
Margaret Clapp with recipients of honorary degrees at her inauguration in 1950. Standing: Anne
O'Hare McCormick, Mabel Newcomer, Ruth Baker Pratt, Miss Clapp, Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit,
Mildred McAfee Horton. Seated: Caroline Taylor White, Esther Forbes, Tilly Edinger, Dr.
Connie M. Guion, Dorothy Fosdick. Belle Sherwin's LL.D. was awarded in absentia.
Alumnae conference marking the Seventy-fifth Anniversary, when the largest class ever assembled
at Wellesley met in the largest tent in New England.
T
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JEAN GLASSCOCK
The Development of
Wellesley's Financial
Resources
At Wellesley a century ago Henry and Pauline Durant provided the
buildings and the difference between the fee the students paid and the
cost of their education. Now every year more than 15,000 individuals,
foundations, and corporations through their gifts and bequests — plus the
interest on funds received in the intervening years — do what Mr. and
Mrs. Durant originally managed to do. But the operating budget in
1895-96, the first year for which a Treasurer's Report was published,
was $224,002; the operating budget for 1974-75 was $17,197,260! The
growth and development of the College have been as striking as these
figures indicate.
Mr. Durant served as the treasurer until his death in 1881, when at
his request Mrs. Durant succeeded him. She handled the affairs of the
College in much the same private way he had, frequently paying expenses
from her own pocket. Their friends, too, continued to help, the trustees
in particular meeting needs as they arose. For example, the Trustee Min-
utes of November 3, 1887, recorded that "Mr. Stetson, Chairman of the
Finance Committee, loaned the College during the vacation, without
interest, $4,311.65 to pay for the purchase of coal. Mr. Frost of the Farm
Committee had loaned the College for about eight months a full-blooded
Holstein stock. Mr. Claflin had presented two full-blooded Jersey calves.
Mrs. Durant gave a new first class piggery, with a two tenement house
near for the residence of workmen, and also hydrants and standpipes con-
nected with Town water."
Eben N. Horsford, a Harvard professor and great friend of the Durants
and the College, the Chairman of the Board of Visitors, made gifts that
were extraordinary in their variety and thoughtfulness: in 1885 a large
amount "for the library, scientific apparatus, rest and recreation [i.e.,
sabbatical leaves] of the Professors specified, and for the pensioning of
those who shall have given their best years to the College"; in 1887 he
37°
THE DEVELOPMENT OF WELLESLEY'S FINANCIAL RESOURCES 37 1
paid "the expense of laying the new floor in the attic" of College Hall, in
1888-89 the rental of "a house in the village held ready for cases of con-
tagious diseases" — for which President Shafer was grateful, as she was for
the fact that "we have not had occasion to use it"; in 1891 he gave "an
ozone generator for the chapel and a small steam engine and dynamo for
the physics department." And of course near the end of the century two
major buildings, the Houghton Memorial Chapel and the Whitin Ob-
servatory, came through the trustees whose names they bear.
One of the remarkable aspects of fund raising — and of college life in
general — in the early days was the joining of the college community in
seeing a need and setting about to meet it. In 1882-83 the students gave
$800 to complete the $5,000 Durant Memorial Scholarship. On occasion
faculty members initiated campaigns for funds, as a story in the Decem-
ber 1, 1887, issue of The Courant bears witness: "For several years Miss
Currier, Professor of Elocution at the College, has been working to raise
a fund of $5,000 which should be known as the Lewis Monroe fund and
the interest of which should furnish reading and lectures in connection
with the department of elocution. A sale for the benefit of the fund took
place at Norumbega cottage on November 19. The interest of present and
former students in the department of elocution and other friends had
filled three tables with beautiful articles which sold rapidly. The one
which brought the greatest price was a painting of crysanthemums con-
tributed by Miss Bothe, Director of the Art Department. In the dining
room fruit and flowers, ice cream and cake, were dispensed, and at eve-
ning the residents of the cottage gave a tableaux entertainment on the
second floor of scenes from Shakespeare's dramas, and Professor George
Herbert Palmer read entertaining selections in the Dorsetshire dialect.
All friends of the fund will be glad to hear that $350 was cleared." The
students raised the money for a boat-house below College Hall and for-
mally presented it to the College in 1894. The Class of 1894 wanted a
Students' Parlor in College Hall (nothing as elegant as the Faculty Parlor
which Professor Horsford had given, but a place students could consider
their own), and they raised $700 to convert a room for the purpose, and,
according to the Trustee Minutes for June 1896, "The Class of 1896 of-
fered to be responsible for $500 with which to furnish the room. The
offers were accepted with thanks. Voted the work to be under the direc-
tion of the Executive Committee." Mrs. Irvine commented in the Presi-
dent's Report for 1897 that "In making its parting gift of $325 the nucleus
of a fund which is to be called 'The Class of 97 Endowment Fund,' and
the income of which is to be used for current expenses, this class has taken
a lead worthy of a strong following."
Certainly the most ambitious fund-raising project of the students of
the 1880s was for a new chapel. Realizing that the College could not ex-
372 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
pand the enrollment or even "invite friends to a public exercise without
depriving students of the possibility of attending," the students held a
mass meeting on October 11, 1887, to discuss the problem. They con-
cluded that the cost would be about $100,000 and that "an audience room
for 1,500 people would not be too large to serve the needs of the College
for the coming years." The Wellesley College Chapel Fund Association
was formed and Sophonisba Breckenridge '88 (who was to become one of
the most distinguished pioneers at the University of Chicago) was elected
president. "It was resolved that first each would give what she could indi-
vidually as a small nucleus for the great sum needed, and an appeal be
made to the friends of Wellesley and the college education of girls for
help to raise the needed fund at once." The student officers met with the
Trustees, and procedures — including "the signing of receipts by the treas-
urer of the Association and by ex-Governor Claflin of the Board of Trus-
tees" — were worked out. It was indeed an impressive undertaking and is
worthy of special mention not only because of the vision underlying the
project and the business-like way in which it was approached but also
because the students' earnestness and enthusiasm so much impressed
William S. Houghton, a trustee, that he "happily thwarted" their pur-
pose by providing the building.
As Mrs. Mansfield has pointed out in her chapter on the Alumnae As-
sociation, the first large-scale fund-raising effort of the alumnae was begun
in 1887 to raise the $13,000 debt on Norumbega Hall. Students, too, and
especially the Class of 1886 and Professor Horsford, its honorary member,
had a share in providing money for that dormitory. The "Wellesley fam-
ily" acted in concert in an extraordinary fashion during those early, ex-
perimental years of the College.
By 1895, however, it was clear that this kind of "family financing" was
not adequate for a college whose student body had more than doubled
and whose facidty and officers had nearly tripled since it had opened
twenty years before. Mrs. Durant resigned as treasurer (but was made a
member of the Finance Committee) and Alpheus H. Hardy, a trustee
and businessman, was appointed as treasurer and asked to make a com-
plete accounting of the College's financial situation. It was a gloomy pic-
ture which he presented to the Trustees and they conveyed in a statement
accompanying the first published Treasurer's Report. The College had
"no general endowment save recent gifts amounting to $7,000," and it
had a debt of $103,048.14. Moreover, "Mr. Durant in his will made it his
residuary legatee, subject to a life tenancy, and there has been a common
impression that the College would ultimately come into the possession
of a large property. It must now be stated explicitly that the personal
estate has suffered such depreciation and loss during the last few years
as to render this prospective endowment of too slight consequence to be
THE DEVELOPMENT OF WELLESLEY'S FINANCIAL RESOURCES 373
reckoned on in any plans for the development and maintenance of the
College."
As has been noted in the chapter on the selection of Wellesley's presi-
dents, with great common sense Mrs. Irvine stated that it was imperative
to have in the position before the turn of the century someone who could
"gain the interest, enlist the sympathy, and secure the support of persons
who do not yet know Wellesley." She therefore resigned the presidency,
and Caroline Hazard assumed the position in 1899.
Miss Hazard was — fortunately for Wellesley — a classic example of a
person who becomes far more caught up in a cause than he intended. To
Alice Freeman Palmer, who, with her fellow-trustee Horace Scudder, had
been instrumental in persuading Miss Hazard to reconsider her refusal
to accept the presidency, Miss Hazard wrote on February 24, 1899: "There
is one thing I would like as clearly understood by all the Trustees as I
am sure it is by you and Mr. Scudder: that I am not willing to assume
the responsibility of raising funds for the College, and that I am not to
be held in any way responsible for its finances." Whereupon at the first
meeting of the Board of Trustees which she attended (this on September
27, 1899), it was reported that Miss Hazard's 1 "attention was called to the
use of a section of the College of Music as a lodging place for domestics;
this seemed to detract from the dignity of the school, and a part of these
rooms was needed for a musical library and a waiting room for students.
After the Secretary [Mrs. Durant] obtained in writing the consent of the
members of the Executive Committee, Miss Hazard had provided for
these servants an addition to the Domestic Hall, without expense to the
College." At the next meeting of the Board (November 2, 1899) the Secre-
tary presented a minute: "This Board desires to thank President Hazard
most sincerely for the generous way in which during the vacation she came
to the assistance of the Department of Music and the College by provid-
ing the means to remove the domestics from the Music Hall through en-
larging the Servants' Dormitory. They feel, however, that this is a legiti-
mate expense for the College to meet in providing for the necessary
service; they desire therefore to instruct the Treasurer to reimburse Miss
Hazard for the generous payment." The motion was voted — and "Miss
Hazard thanked the Trustees for their consideration, but thought in the
present state of the finances, that the money would better remain in the
Treasury for future use"!
Miss Hazard has best expressed the complexities of the situation which
she found awaiting her when she took office: "In 1899, while all the ex-
ternals were in a flourishing condition and the busy college life went on,
to those who had charge of the administration of the College there was a
heavy cloud on the horizon. The College was burdened by debt; it had
small financial resources and was living on its income from day to day. It
374 WELLESLEY COLLEGE 1 875- 1 975: A CENTURY OF WOMEN
was most important to make this beautiful fabric secure, and the task
was one of extreme delicacy, that of putting in foundation stones while
the structure was already standing in apparent security. This task has
taxed the patience and the ingenuity of all those connected with the
administration."
She immediately set to work on all fronts, simultaneously paring ex-
penses, planning for additional income by increasing the student body,
and seeking large amounts of money. The greatest coup achieved during
her first year was the promise to Miss Hazard and her brother Rowland
(who served as a trustee throughout her administration and whose con-
stant helpfulness to Wellesley during those years has probably never been
fully and publicly recognized) which was made by John D. Rockefeller:
he would give $100,000 for general endowment on condition that the
College would raise funds to eliminate the debt, which by 1899 totaled
$109,223.62. Heroic efforts on the part of the alumnae, Miss Hazard, and
the trustees resulted in obtaining in six months the funds to meet Mr.
Rockefeller's requirement and receiving his $100,000 in September 1900.
Miss Hazard commented: "The great pressure of debt has been lifted. It
is difficult to imagine the relief which this gave. There was no longer a
blank wall to beat against, but a pathway to future prosperity once
more."
The next major breakthrough also came from John D. Rockefeller.
Following 
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