A Collection of College Words and Customs

by Benjamin Homer Hall

"In the old time when militia trainings were in fashion, the authorities of Burlington decided that, whereas the students of the University of Vermont claimed and were allowed the right of suffrage, they were to be considered citizens, and consequently subject to military duty. The students having refused to appear on parade, were threatened with prosecution; and at last they determined to make their appearance. This they did on a certain 'training day,' (the year I do not recollect,) to the full satisfaction of the authorities, who did not expect such a parade, and had no desire to see it repeated. But the students being unwilling to expose themselves to 'the rigor of the law,' paraded annually; and when at last the statute was repealed and militia musters abolished, they continued the practice for the sake of old association. Thus it passed into a custom, and the first Wednesday of June is as eagerly anticipated by the citizens of Burlington and the youth of the surrounding country for its 'training,' as is the first Wednesday of August for its annual Commencement. The Faculty always smile propitiously, and in the afternoon the performance commences. The army, or more euphoniously the 'UNIVERSITY INVINCIBLES,' take up 'their line of march' from the College campus, and proceed through all the principal streets to the great square, where, in the presence of an immense audience, a speech is delivered by the Commander-in-chief, and a sermon by the Chaplain, the roll is called, and the annual health report is read by the surgeon. These productions are noted for their patriotism and fervid eloquence rather than high literary merit. Formerly the music to which they marched consisted solely of the good old-fashioned drum and fife; but of late years the Invincibles have added to these a brass band, composed of as many obsolete instruments as can be procured, in the hands of inexperienced performers. None who have ever handled a musical instrument before are allowed to become members of the band, lest the music should be too sweet and regular to comport with the general order of the parade. The uniform (or rather the multiform) of the company varies from year to year, owing to the regulation that each soldier shall consult his own taste,—provided that no two are to have the same taste in their equipments. The artillery consists of divers joints of rusty stove-pipe, in each of which is inserted a toy cannon of about one quarter of an inch calibre, mounted on an old dray, and drawn by as many horse-apologies as can be conveniently attached to it. When these guns are discharged, the effect—as might be expected—is terrific. The banners, built of cotton sheeting and mounted on a rake-handle, although they do not always exhibit great artistic genius, often display vast originality of design. For instance, one contained on the face a diagram (done in ink with the wrong end of a quill) of the pons asinorum, with the rather belligerent inscription, 'REMEMBER NAPOLEON AT LODI.' On the reverse was the head of an extremely doubtful-looking individual viewing 'his natural face in a glass.' Inscription,—'O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursel's as others see us.'

"The surgeon's equipment is an ox-cart containing jars of drugs (most of them marked 'N.E.R.' and 'O.B.J.'), boxes of homoeopathic pills (about the size of a child's head), immense saws and knives, skeletons of animals, &c.; over which preside the surgeon and his assistant in appropriate dresses, with tin spectacles. This surgeon is generally the chief feature of the parade, and his reports are astonishing additions to the surgical lore of our country. He is the wit of the College,—the one who above all others is celebrated for the loudest laugh, the deepest bumper, the best joke, and the poorest song. How well he sustains his reputation may be known by listening to his annual reading, or by reference to the reports of 'Trotwood,' 'Gubbins,' or 'Deppity Sawbones,' who at different times have immortalized themselves by their contributions to science. The cavalcade is preceded by the 'pioneers,' who clear the way for the advancing troops; which is generally effected by the panic among the boys, occasioned by the savage aspect of the pioneers,—their faces being hideously painted, and their dress consisting of gleanings from every costume, Christian, Pagan, and Turkish, known among men. As the body passes through the different streets, the martial men receive sundry testimonials of regard and approval in the shape of boquets and wreaths from the fair 'Peruvians,' who of course bestow them on those who, in their opinion, have best succeeded in the object of the day,—uncouth appearance. After the ceremonies, the students quietly congregate in some room in college to count these favors and to ascertain who is to be considered the hero of the day, as having rendered himself pre-eminently ridiculous. This honor generally falls to the lot of the surgeon. As the sun sinks behind the Adirondacs over the lake, the parade ends; the many lookers-on having nothing to see but the bright visions of the next year's training, retire to their homes; while the now weary students, gathered in knots in the windows of the upper stories, lazily and comfortably puff their black pipes, and watch the lessening forms of the retreating countrymen."

Further to elucidate the peculiarities of the June Training, the annexed account of the custom, as it was observed on the first Wednesday in June of the current year, is here inserted, taken from the "Daily Free Press," published at Burlington, June 8th, 1855.

"The annual parade of the principal military body in Vermont is an event of importance. The first Wednesday in June, the day assigned to it, is becoming the great day of the year in Burlington. Already it rivals, if it does not exceed, Commencement day in glory and honor. The people crowd in from the adjoining towns, the steamboats bring numbers from across the lake, and the inhabitants of the town turn out in full force. The yearly recurrence of such scenes shows the fondness of the people for a hearty laugh, and the general acceptableness of the entertainment provided.

"The day of the parade this year was a very favorable one,—without dust, and neither too hot nor too cold for comfort The performances properly—or rather _im_properly—commenced in the small hours of the night previous by the discharge of a cannon in front of the college buildings, which, as the cannon was stupidly or wantonly pointed towards the college buildings, blew in several hundred panes of glass. We have not heard that anybody laughed at this piece of heavy wit.

"At four o'clock in the afternoon, the Invincibles took up their line of march, with scream of fife and roll of drum, down Pearl Street to the Square, where the flying artillery discharged a grand national salute of one gun; thence to the Exchange, where a halt was made and a refreshment of water partaken of by the company, and then to the Square in front of the American, where they were duly paraded, reviewed, exhorted, and reported upon, in presence of two or three thousand people.

"The scene presented was worth seeing. The windows of the American and Wheeler's Block had all been taken out, and were filled with bright female faces; the roofs of the same buildings were lined with spectators, and the top of the portico of the American was a condensed mass of loveliness and bright colors. The Town Hall windows, steps, doors, &c. were also filled. Every good look-out anywhere near the spot was occupied, and a dense mass of by-standers and lookers-on in carriages crowded the southern part of the Square.

"Of the cortege itself, the pencil of a Hogarth only could give an adequate idea. The valorous Colonel Brick was of course the centre of all eyes. He was fitly supported by his two aids. The three were in elegant uniforms, were handsomely mounted, rode well and with gallant bearing, and presented a particularly attractive appearance.

"Behind them appeared a scarlet robe, surmounted by a white wig of Brobdinagian dimensions and spectacles to match, which it is supposed contained in the interior the physical system of the Reverendissimus Boanerges Diogenes Lanternarius, Chaplain, the whole mounted upon the vertebræ of a solemn-looking donkey.

"The representative of the Church Militant was properly backed up by the Flying Artillery. Their banner announced that they were 'for the reduction of Sebastopol,' and it is safe to say that they will certainly take that fortress, if they get a chance. If the Russians hold out against those four ghostly steeds, tandem, with their bandy-legged and kettle-stomached riders,—that gun, so strikingly like a joint of old stove-pipe in its exterior, but which upon occasion could vomit forth your real smoke and sound and smell of unmistakable brimstone,—and those slashed and blood-stained artillerymen,—they will do more than anybody did on Wednesday.