But the victims who were unable to escape did not stop at passive resistance. Driven back again and again into the hated hall, they met force with force, and frequently rose in very active revolts. We shall see that in most of these, great quantities of food were literally thrown away, and that in some the very life of the College was put in jeopardy. “The food,” says Dr. Peabody of the last days of the institution, “had not been deficient in quantity, but it was so mean in quality, so poorly cooked, and so coarsely served, as to disgust those who had been accustomed to the decencies of the table, and to encourage a mutinous spirit, rude manners, and ungentlemanly habits; so that the dining-halls were seats of boisterous misrule and nurseries of rebellion.”
At last in 1825 conditions had reached such a pitch that, after a belated and ludicrously unsuccessful attempt at reform, the chains were loosened; and the Faculty, wearied by a century of contention, disappointment, mortification, and failure, agreed that students who had obtained permission might board at private houses—as might just as well have been done in 1636. It is markworthy that the change was first recommended by a committee on reducing the expenses of the students; which committee also reported the amazing discovery (in equally amazing English)—“It not having been perceived that any inconvenience has arisen, or that the
