Letter from M. Carey Thomas to Mary Elizabeth Garrett, May 28, 1884

Dearest Mary, There was something about your last letter that made me hesitate to write until I had reached home again and had become somewhat of a literary person. I am afraid the result of a days exhaustion was all I had to give. In default of other subjects even Professor Niemeyer was a relief to romance upon. By the way seen again in a different mood the clay feet were visible. The nicest thing that happened was FullerGÇÖs pictures in Boston. The only ones I have cared for because or in spite of their Americanism of type. His style of painting is unlike any I have ever seen and very lovely, wrapped in a soft mist that never left the eyes and throats of his women (and all his greatest were of women) but which seemed to disappear, as one looked, and gave an impression of solidity. The effect is indescribable. I was somewhat ashamed and wholly surprised to feel before them the faint throb of a national heart beat, which I was ignorant of possessing. The curve of GÇ£Winifred DysartGÇÖsGÇ¥ lashes, her hands, the poise of her figure. I have seen them a hundred times. Wellesley was an experience but my five days there were very tiresome. Boston for 2 weeks was of course interesting. Mrs. Arthur Gilman gave me a reception where I met a number of the professors most interested in the Annex. I heard lectures there and in Boston talked to educational notorieties until I think I could publish a declining of educational knowledge. Mamie joined me in Boston and we spent five days in Newport before coming home. The cliffs and the ocean helped me to regain a philosophical state of mind about Bryn Mawr. the dispensers of spiritual food in colleges are so unspiritually minded that in the midst of it all I grow very anxious that we may be able to change things a little. I shall print my report when it is finished, and therein mark out a complete form of organization but I shall endeavor to be resigned if the Trustees do not vote affirmatively to each resolution I offer. How glad I shall be to return to any books again and how much more satisfaction they are. Charles Lamb fell in with my mood on the journey. Some instinct lead [sic] me to buy a copy in passing and though so old many of his essays seemed new. As added experience perhaps these five weeks have not been wasted, but for all that I care for they are rather barren. For the past 2 days I have turned my back on the Mona Lisa, while writing my report we are not good company. I find Bessie better but not looking as well as I expected. She does not cough at all but is still far from strong. She is coming up to dine Monday and it will be like old times-- 5 years ago. So much has happened and so little, so much that is sad for you, and so little for me, except GrandmaGÇÖs death and that of course I could not have wished otherwise. Still, I sometimes think, there are other things that are sad. I have been wondering tonight how it would be to have none of RosettiGÇÖs GÇ£Lost DaysGÇ¥, GÇ£each one a murdered selfGÇ¥ to mourn for. I have very many, and many of them have been spent in study. Do you know our Cornell GÇ£tableGÇ¥ is going to send Miss Clements and her mother abroad for a year and, I hope, for a longer time, but the year is certain. It takes $1000 and we have raised nearly enough. There were 13 at the table but of course many are poor. She was very much nicer the last time I saw here, perhaps because her work was more what I cared for. Three of her etchings in Boston were good. Her talent is, I believe, splendid, and Paris will give her what one feels the need of in her pictures. I am delighted. I saw Mrs. Hicks in Boston and we found all my latest letters-- the others she does not yet feel able to look for. I saw many clever women in Boston without feeling drawn to any one of them. Miss Marion Talbot was the most attractive. I wondered if the ocean looked as blue as at Long Branch to you as it looked to me at Newport. I hope you are really better, as you felt when you wrote. Although in these three weeks much can happen. I am so very sorry, dear Mary, you are so far away. I should so like to read to Mr. Garrett and let you sleep back your strength and sleep away your all those worrisome things headaches and backaches and side aches. Do you not have to see about your house and if you do will you not stay with me? They have cut a new bay window which looks to me in a critical condition. When, seriously, are you coming back? I suppose now, as I told you and you denied; you will go directly to Deer Park (is it one word or two?). Madison Ave is newly paved with square blocks so it need not prove as great an obstacle as before. Will you not write to me to say how Mr. Garrett is and how you are. I do not wish you to tire yourself but if you still continue to write to other people, would not a note say once in three weeks be my share? Yours lovingly Minnie C. T. I will try and write you nicer letters after my soul has been out to pasture a few days.