1904 Diary of Wellesley College Student Ethel A. Morse, Recording the Big Feelings Associated with Her “Crush” on a Female Friend and Emotional Rivalry Within Her Social Circle

On offer is a remarkable 1904 manuscript diary kept by Ethel A. Morse, a young Massachusetts woman in her junior year at Wellesley College. A gifted and self-aware diarist, Ethel offers an extraordinary first-person account of women’s higher education and same-sex emotional life at the turn of the century, written decades before such affections could be safely expressed. The diary reveals the inner world of a bright, privileged New England student raised in an academic household (her father a teacher) who struggles to reconcile intellectual ambition with forbidden desire.

From a family of means, Ethel writes with wit and precision, but as would be expected of a young woman caught up in the throes of academia, social pressures and romance, her composure sometimes frays. She chronicles her daily life with a focus on her all-consuming attachment to another student named Anna. This love story (which is likely largely occurring in Ethel’s own mind) is frequently impeded by the rest of the girls’ social world. Particularly challenging for Ethel is her growing jealousy toward Grace, who seems to be Anna’s roommate, and a rival for her attention:

“…Returned to college…Poor mother rather sober and weepy at having me leave her…Mother wanted to see Anna, dear child! and also to see me off. It wasn't any more satisfactory to us, though for it was lots harder for her and thus for me. Trunk had arrived when I got here…Tucked myself into bed about ten under my new slumber robe that Grace gave me” [Jan 7, 1904].

“Grace went home in p.m. after waiting for 4 o'clock mail for letter from Brooklyn. Wonder why? Anna going to spend Sunday with me. Won't it be fun - seem so good to have her all to myself to talk to and love all I want to. Telephone to Howard. Said he couldn't come out tonight anyway…Was coming out tomorrow until I asked him not to…made me feel so cheeky - but what could I do?” [Jan 23, 1904].

Tension between Ethel, Anna and Grace are not uncommon:

“Called to a meeting of the Cap and Gown committee today, never realized until now that being on this committee meant a free gown… Evening spent mostly at Anna’s. Sort of puzzled in my mind. Can’t decide upon something—what happened between Grace and Anna when they were together a week ago Saturday.” [Mar. 3, 1904].

The rivalry soon becomes personal and wounding:

“What a cold reception from Grace! She evidently was overcome by pains of jealousy or something, for she hardly spoke, refused as near as possible to kiss me, etc.” [Mar. 14, 1904].

From that moment forward, the shifting loyalties between the three girls dominate Ethel’s emotional life.

Her affection for Anna is openly romantic:

“…Anna came over about 10 to see me—she’s just back from home. Sweet child! How good it seems to have her back! She’s certainly my little ‘crush’…” [Feb. 9, 1904].

As the semester advances, her self-reproach grows sharper:

“…Why was I ever made with any feelings, any love for anyone—much less with such a jealous streak in me… The attitude of the two girls has been as queer toward me today, as if they said ‘Poor girl! she is awfully silly, but to make her feel better we’ll baby her…’” [Apr. 27, 1904].

Throughout, Morse documents the emotional grammar of female friendship at Wellesley—deeply affectionate, coded, and often indistinguishable from romantic attachment.

“I doubt sometimes whether Anna cares for me—in fact, I know she doesn’t fully reciprocate all I feel… Oh if only I didn’t care so much for her! She is a regular spell to me. The minute I see her, everything seems to be harder to say.” [Apr. 25, 1904].

In May she vows independence: “In spite of everything, I was going to forget about Anna and Ruth and live my life with nobility and power… Perhaps this is just what I need to make me strong in my own strength.” [May 25, 1904].

Longer excerpts that take us from the summer after junior year into the autumn of senior year give further flavour to Ethel’s diary:

“....Was surprised about one o'clock by Anna. such a good time we had! We just talked, talked, and talked some more! It all seemed quite like old times. She looks yet very tired, though. I fear that the hard work at home wears on other more than she realizes. She's a dear girl. I can't help loving her very dearly. We simply made her stay to dinner. I went home to Dudley Street with her on the electric. Two weeks from today we have planned a day at Nantucket together. We and our two dear mothers…” [July 11, 1904].

“Anna here with us tonight. Arrived before I knew it....It seems too good to have the dear child here. There is something about her which I simply can't resist. When college closed, I felt a little hardened toward her - I couldn't help it - but somehow I seem to have lost all that. To me she seems quite like her old self. Only I have knocked out a little of my foolishness in regard to her. I admit I was very foolish at one time.- but we all must be foolish in one way or another” [August 18, 1904].

“Another beautiful day - only Anna had to go home. It seemed indeed lonely here tonight without her beside me in bed. I forgot to say anything about that heart to heart talk we had until 10 last night. We just opened right up for the first time since that little fuss this spring. We found we had both forgiven and almost forgotten, as near as we could. We just discussed everything and felt better for it. She was so mad when I wrote her that last note, but she never has said one word about it to her mother or any of the family. I thought once that she had, and that they were a little prejudiced against me for it. How cold anyone blame them! Yet I was not the only one in the wrong. Her queer silence about all her own affairs this spring - which hurt Ruth and me so much. She explained by saying our attitude...” [August 23, 1904].

“...But ever with such a happy day, my mind is far from happy tonight. The same old suspense. The heart still pains the wound doesn't heal. If it weren't for Ruth, I would pick up everything I possess and go home. In such an atmosphere, I cannot live. Mother referred to Anna tonight. I say nothing and try to keep her from knowing how I feel at heart. If only I can keep up the role, and act as if all were right between us, but I fear I can't long” [Oct 28, 1904].

“...And this afternoon, Anna and I have been having a new experience. We were invited…by Marian Berry to be rushed, so the girls say. Of course, we are too modest to believe them, though. haha! Imagine our being invited! Imagine the awful blow to them when they received our replies! Bust we won't worry about such .... in the air, when they are of such a very doubtful and terrible character” [Dec 2, 1904].

Taken together, the diary stands as a rare early expression of female same-sex affection, jealousy, and emotional education within an elite women’s college. Of special research value to scholars of Gender and Queer Studies, women’s higher education, and the history of emotion, it captures the interior life of a woman learning both to feel and to contain feeling in Edwardian America.

The book is nearly full, written in a page-a-day 1904 datebook measuring approx. 6.25 × 4 inches, its pages densely covered in tight, legible script. Only a few days are left blank and the book is about 90% complete. Two pressed four-leaf clovers remain between the pages dated May 25, 1904, which Ethel noted as “symbols of the day of good luck.” Bound in maroon leather with gilt edges, the volume is well preserved, spine sound, writing crisp. Overall VG condition.

BIO NOTES:

Ethel Almira Morse (1882–1966) was born in South Natick, Massachusetts, to Herbert Leonard Morse (1855–1930), a teacher, and Sarah Adeline Jones (1857–1936). She was educated at the Girls’ Latin School in Boston (Class of 1900) and entered Wellesley College, Class of 1905. Afterward she attended a commercial school in Boston and later taught in the commercial department of the Salem Normal School [Boston Evening Transcript, Sept 5, 1912]. In 1916 she married Lyndon Blaine Tewksbury (1878–1947), a Yale graduate and salesman; they lived in Boston and had three children: Lyndon Jr., Frances, and Hamilton. She died in 1966.

We have been unable to confirm Anna’s identity, though we know there were three students named Anna in Ethel’s graduating class at Wellesley, all of whom hailed from Massachusetts.