been returned to the State Arsenal at Cambridge.[1] There was not enough interest left to protest, or to revive the organization. Its requiem was sung by B. D. Winslow, Class Poet of 1835:
That martial band, ’neath waving stripes and stars
Inscribed alike to Mercury and Mars,
Those gallant warriors in their dread array,
Who shook these halls,—O where, alas! are they?
Gone! gone! and never to our ears shall come
The sounds of fife and spirit-stirring drum;
That war-worn banner slumbers in the dust,
Those bristling arms are dim with gathering rust;
That crested helm, that glittering sword, that plume,
Are laid to rest in reckless faction’s tomb.[2]
Another period of inactivity supervened. The short and unpopular Mexican War made not a ripple on “the fount of the Muses.” Neither, strange as it seems at first glance, did that tranquil pool reflect the ominous
- ↑ The last appearance of the arms was just before Commencement. On August 11, 1834, occurred the notorious attack on the Ursuline Convent at Somerville by a fanatical mob, who burned the building. In the excitement that followed, it was bruited that the Roman Catholics of the neighborhood intended to retaliate by demolishing Harvard College. Whereupon a mixed crowd of students and graduates gathered in the Yard, procured muskets, and spent the night in alarms and excursions. They were led by Franklin Dexter, ’12, with ex-Commander Robert C. Winthrop as lieutenant. Of course the affair proved a fiasco, not the least ignoble of its details being that the dauntless band of defenders deputed the dangers of advanced picket and chief scout to one of the kitchen waiters. The muskets were evidently taken from the college armory; but the Washington Corps was by this time so disorganized that it took no concerted part in the proceedings. New England Magazine, New Ser. ix, 441; Pierce, Memoir of Sumner, i, 128.
- ↑ See Hall, College Words and Customs (1856), 247; Harvard Book, ii, 375; Harvard Register, i, 55; etc.
