His only note for the year 1765 was this:—
"Many Crapulæ to Day
Give the Head-ach to the Gay."
Commencement Day was generally considered a holiday throughout the Province, and in the metropolis the shops were usually closed, and little or no business was done. About ten days before this period, a body of Indians from Natick—men, women, and pappooses—commonly made their appearance at Cambridge, and took up their station around the Episcopal Church, in the cellar of which they were accustomed to sleep, if the weather was unpleasant. The women sold baskets and moccasons; the boys gained money by shooting at it, while the men wandered about and spent the little that was earned by their squaws in rum and tobacco. Then there would come along a body of itinerant negro fiddlers, whose scraping never intermitted during the time of their abode.
The Common, on Commencement week, was covered with booths, erected in lines, like streets, intended to accommodate the populace from Boston and the vicinity with the amusements of a fair. In these were carried on all sorts of dissipation. Here was a knot of gamblers, gathered around a wheel of fortune, or watching the whirl of the ball on a roulette-table. Further along, the jolly hucksters displayed their tempting wares in the shape of cooling beverages and palate-tickling confections. There was dancing on this side, auction-selling on the other; here a pantomimic show, there a blind man, led by a dog, soliciting alms; organ-grinders and hurdy-gurdy grinders, bears and monkeys, jugglers and sword-swallowers, all mingled in inextricable confusion.
In a neighboring field, a countryman had, perchance, let loose a fox, which the dogs were worrying to death, while the surrounding crowd testified their pleasure at the scene by shouts of approbation. Nor was there any want of the spirituous; pails of punch, guarded by stout negroes, bore witness to their own subtle contents, now by the man who lay curled up under the adjoining hedge, "forgetting and forgot," and again by the drunkard, reeling, cursing, and fighting among his comrades.
The following observations from the pen of Professor Sidney Willard, afford an accurate description of the outward manifestations of Commencement Day at Harvard College, during the latter part of the last century. "Commencement Day at that time was a widely noted day, not only among men and women of all characters and conditions, but also among boys. It was the great literary and mob anniversary of Massachusetts, surpassed only in its celebrities by the great civil and mob anniversary, namely, the Fourth of July, and the last Wednesday of May, Election day, so called, the anniversary of the organization of the government of the State for the civil year. But Commencement, perhaps most of all, exhibited an incongruous mixture of men and things. Besides the academic exercises within the sanctuary of learning and religion, followed by the festivities in the College dining-hall, and under temporary tents and awnings erected for the entertainments given to the numerous guests of wealthy parents of young men who had come out successful competitors for prizes in the academic race, the large common was decked with tents filled with various refreshments for the hungry and thirsty multitudes, and the intermediate spaces crowded with men, women, and boys, white and black, many of them gambling, drinking, swearing, dancing, and fighting from morning to midnight. Here and there the scene was varied by some show of curiosities, or of monkeys or less common wild animals, and the gambols of mountebanks, who by their ridiculous tricks drew a greater crowd than the abandoned group at the gaming-tables, or than the fooleries, distortions, and mad pranks of the inebriates. If my revered uncle[07] took a glimpse at these scenes, he did not see there any of our red brethren, as Mr. Jefferson kindly called them, who formed a considerable part of the gathering at the time of his graduation, forty-two years before; but he must have seen exhibitions of depravity which would disgust the most untutored savage. Near the close of the last century these outrages began to disappear, and lessened from year to year, until by public opinion, enforced by an efficient police, they were many years ago wholly suppressed, and the vicinity of the College halls has become, as it should be, a classic ground."—Memories of Youth and Manhood, Vol. I. pp. 251, 252.
It is to such scenes as these that Mr. William Biglow refers, in his poem recited before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, in their dining-hall, August 29th, 1811.
"All hail, Commencement! when all classes free
Throng learning's fount, from interest, taste, or glee;
When sutlers plain in tents, like Jacob, dwell,
Their goods distribute, and their purses swell;
When tipplers cease on wretchedness to think,
Those born to sell, as well as these to drink;
When every day each merry Andrew clears
More cash than useful men in many years;
When men to business come, or come to rake,
And modest women spurn at Pope's mistake.[08]
"All hail, Commencement! when all colors join,
To gamble, riot, quarrel, and purloin;
When Afric's sooty sons, a race forlorn,
Play, swear, and fight, like Christians freely born;
And Indians bless our civilizing merit,
And get dead drunk with truly Christian spirit;
When heroes, skilled in pocket-picking sleights,
Of equal property and equal rights,
Of rights of man and woman, boldest friends,
Believing means are sanctioned by their ends,
Sequester part of Gripus' boundless store,
While Gripus thanks god Plutus he has more;
And needy poet, from this ill secure,
Feeling his fob, cries, 'Blessed are the poor.'"
On the same subject, the writer of Our Chronicle of '26, a satirical poem, versifies in the following manner:—