A Collection of College Words and Customs. Benjamin Homer Hall
New Haven, 1847, pp. 215, 216.
BUMPTIOUS. Conceited, forward, pushing. An English Cantab's expression.—Bristed.
About nine, A.M., the new scholars are announced from the chapel gates. On this occasion it is not etiquette for the candidates themselves to be in waiting—it looks too "bumptious."—Bristed's Five Years in an Eng. Univ., Ed. 2d, p. 193.
BURIAL OF EUCLID. "The custom of bestowing burial honors upon the ashes of Euclid with becoming demonstrations of respect has been handed down," says the author of the Sketches of Yale College, "from time immemorial." The account proceeds as follows:—"This book, the terror of the dilatory and unapt, having at length been completely mastered, the class, as their acquaintance with the Greek mathematician is about to close, assemble in their respective places of meeting, and prepare (secretly for fear of the Faculty) for the anniversary. The necessary committee having been appointed, and the regular preparations ordered, a ceremony has sometimes taken place like the following. The huge poker is heated in the old stove, and driven through the smoking volume, and the division, marshalled in line, for once at least see through the whole affair. They then march over it in solemn procession, and are enabled, as they step firmly on its covers, to assert with truth that they have gone over it—poor jokes indeed, but sufficient to afford abundant laughter. And then follow speeches, comical and pathetic, and shouting and merriment. The night assigned having arrived, how carefully they assemble, all silent, at the place appointed. Laid on its bier, covered with sable pall, and borne in solemn state, the corpse (i.e. the book) is carried with slow procession, with the moaning music of flutes and fifes, the screaming of fiddles, and the thumping and mumbling of a cracked drum, to the open grave or the funeral pyre. A gleaming line of blazing torches and twinkling lanterns wave along the quiet streets and through the opened fields, and the snow creaks hoarsely under the tread of a hundred men. They reach the scene, and a circle forms around the consecrated spot; if the ceremony is a burial, the defunct is laid all carefully in his grave, and then his friends celebrate in prose or verse his memory, his virtues, and his untimely end: and three oboli are tossed into his tomb to satisfy the surly boatman of the Styx. Lingeringly is the last look taken of the familiar countenance, as the procession passes slowly around the tomb; and the moaning is made—a sound of groans going up to the seventh heavens—and the earth is thrown in, and the headstone with epitaph placed duly to hallow the grave of the dead. Or if, according to the custom of his native land, the body of Euclid is committed to the funeral flames, the pyre, duly prepared with combustibles, is made the centre of the ring; a ponderous jar of turpentine or whiskey is the fragrant incense, and as the lighted fire mounts up in the still night, and the alarm in the city sounds dim in the distance, the eulogium is spoken, and the memory of the illustrious dead honored; the urn receives the sacred ashes, which, borne in solemn procession, are placed in some conspicuous situation, or solemnly deposited in some fitting sarcophagus. So the sport ends; a song, a loud hurrah, and the last jovial roysterer seeks short and profound slumber."—pp. 166–169.
The above was written in the year 1843. That the interest in the observance of this custom at Yale College has not since that time diminished, may be inferred from the following account of the exercises of the Sophomore Class of 1850, on parting company with their old mathematical friend, given by a correspondent of the New York Tribune.
"Arrangements having been well matured, notice was secretly given out on Wednesday last that the obsequies would be celebrated that evening at 'Barney's Hall,' on Church Street. An excellent band of music was engaged for the occasion, and an efficient Force Committee assigned to their duty, who performed their office with great credit, taking singular care that no 'tutor' or 'spy' should secure an entrance to the hall. The 'countersign' selected was 'Zeus,' and fortunately was not betrayed. The hall being full at half past ten, the doors were closed, and the exercises commenced with music. Then followed numerous pieces of various character, and among them an Oration, a Poem, Funeral Sermon (of a very metaphysical character), a Dirge, and, at the grave, a Prayer to Pluto. These pieces all exhibited taste and labor, and were acknowledged to be of a higher tone than that of any productions which have ever been delivered on a similar occasion. Besides these, there were several songs interspersed throughout the Programme, in both Latin and English, which were sung with great jollity and effect. The band added greatly to the character of the performances, by their frequent and appropriate pieces. A large coffin was placed before the altar, within which, lay the veritable Euclid, arranged in a becoming winding-sheet, the body being composed of combustibles, and these thoroughly saturated with turpentine. The company left the hall at half past twelve, formed in an orderly procession, preceded by the band, and bearing the coffin in their midst. Those who composed the procession were arrayed in disguises, to avoid detection, and bore a full complement of brilliant torches. The skeleton of Euclid (a faithful caricature), himself bearing a torch, might have been seen dancing in the midst, to the great amusement of all beholders. They marched up Chapel Street as far as the south end of the College, where they were saluted with three hearty cheers by their fellow-students, and then continued through College Street in front of the whole College square, at the north extremity of which they were again greeted by cheers, and thence followed a circuitous way to quasi Potter's Field, about a mile from the city, where the concluding ceremonies were performed. These consist of walking over the coffin, thus surmounting the difficulties of the author; boring a hole through a copy of Euclid with a hot iron, that the class may see through it; and finally burning it upon the funeral pyre, in order to throw light upon the subject. After these exercises, the procession returned, with music, to the State-House, where they disbanded, and returned to their desolate habitations. The affair surpassed anything of the kind that has ever taken place here, and nothing was wanting to render it a complete performance. It testifies to the spirit and character of the class of '53."—Literary World, Nov. 23, 1850, from the New York Tribune.
In the Sketches of Williams College, printed in the year 1847, is a description of the manner in which the funeral exercises of Euclid are sometimes conducted in that institution. It is as follows:—"The burial took place last night. The class assembled in the recitation-room in full numbers, at 9 o'clock. The deceased, much emaciated, and in a torn and tattered dress, was stretched on a black table in the centre of the room. This table, by the way, was formed of the old blackboard, which, like a mirror, had so often reflected the image of old Euclid. In the body of the corpse was a triangular hole, made for the post mortem examination, a report of which was read. Through this hole, those who wished were allowed to look; and then, placing the body on their heads, they could say with truth that they had for once seen through and understood Euclid.
"A eulogy was then pronounced, followed by an oration and the reading of the epitaph, after which the class formed a procession, and marched with slow and solemn tread to the place of burial. The spot selected was in the woods, half a mile south of the College. As we approached the place, we saw a bright fire burning on the altar of turf, and torches gleaming through the dark pines. All was still, save the occasional sympathetic groans of some forlorn bull-frogs, which came up like minute-guns from the marsh below.
"When we arrived at the spot, the sexton received the body. This dignitary presented rather a grotesque appearance. He wore a white robe bound around his waist with a black scarf, and on his head a black, conical-shaped hat, some three feet high. Haying fastened the remains to the extremity of a long, black wand, he held them in the fire of the altar until they were nearly consumed, and then laid the charred mass in the urn, muttering an incantation in Latin. The urn being buried deep in the ground, we formed a ring around the grave, and sung the dirge. Then, lighting our larches by the dying fire, we retraced our steps with feelings suited to the occasion."—pp. 74–76.
Of this observance the writer of the preface to the "Songs of Yale" remarks: "The Burial of Euclid is an old ceremony practised at many colleges. At Yale it is conducted by the Sophomore Class during the first term of the year. After literary exercises within doors, a procession is formed, which proceeds at midnight through the principal streets of the city, with music and torches, conveying a coffin, supposed to contain the body of the old mathematician, to the funeral pile, when the whole is fired and consumed to ashes."—1853, p. 4.
From the lugubrious songs which are usually sung on these