Читать книгу A Collection of College Words and Customs - Benjamin Homer Hall - Страница 11

He made a good fight of it, and … beat the Trinity man a little on the book-work.—Bristed's Five Years in an Eng. Univ., Ed. 2d, p. 96.

The men are continually writing out book-work, either at home or in their tutor's rooms.—Ibid., p. 149.

BOOT-FOX. This name was at a former period given, in the German universities, to a fox, or a student in his first half-year, from the fact of his being required to black the boots of his more advanced comrades.

BOOTLICK. To fawn upon; to court favor.

Scorns the acquaintance of those he deems beneath him; refuses to bootlick men for their votes.—The Parthenon, Union Coll., Vol. I. p. 6.

The "Wooden Spoon" exhibition passed off without any such hubbub, except where the pieces were of such a character as to offend the delicacy and modesty of some of those crouching, fawning, bootlicking hypocrites.—The Gallinipper, Dec. 1849.

BOOTLICKER. A student who seeks or gains favor from a teacher by flattery or officious civilities; one who curries favor. A correspondent from Union College writes: "As you watch the students more closely, you will perhaps find some of them particularly officious towards your teacher, and very apt to linger after recitation to get a clearer knowledge of some passage. They are Bootlicks, and that is known as Bootlicking; a reproach, I am sorry to say, too indiscriminately applied." At Yale, and other colleges, a tutor or any other officer who informs against the students, or acts as a spy upon their conduct, is also called a bootlick.

Three or four bootlickers rise.—Yale Banger, Oct. 1848.

The rites of Wooden Spoons we next recite,

When bootlick hypocrites upraised their might. Ibid., Nov. 1849.

Then he arose, and offered himself as a "bootlick" to the Faculty.—Yale Battery, Feb. 14, 1850.

BOOTS. At the College of South Carolina it is customary to present the most unpopular member of a class with a pair of handsome red-topped boots, on which is inscribed the word BEAUTY. They were formerly given to the ugliest person, whence the inscription.

BORE. A tiresome person or unwelcome visitor, who makes himself obnoxious by his disagreeable manners, or by a repetition of visits.—Bartlett.

A person or thing that wearies by iteration.—Webster.

Although the use of this word is very general, yet it is so peculiarly applicable to the many annoyances to which a collegian is subjected, that it has come by adoption to be, to a certain extent, a student term. One writer classes under this title "text-books generally; the Professor who marks slight mistakes; the familiar young man who calls continually, and when he finds the door fastened demonstrates his verdant curiosity by revealing an inquisitive countenance through the ventilator."—Sophomore Independent, Union College, Nov. 1854.

In college parlance, prayers, when the morning is cold or rainy, are a bore; a hard lesson is a bore; a dull lecture or lecturer is a bore; and, par excellence, an unwelcome visitor is a bore of bores. This latter personage is well described in the following lines:—

"Next comes the bore, with visage sad and pale,

And tortures you with some lugubrious tale;

Relates stale jokes collected near and far,

And in return expects a choice cigar;

Your brandy-punch he calls the merest sham,

Yet does not scruple to partake a dram. His prying eyes your secret nooks explore; No place is sacred to the college bore. Not e'en the letter filled with Helen's praise, Escapes the sight of his unhallowed gaze; Ere one short hour its silent course has flown, Your Helen's charms to half the class are known. Your books he takes, nor deigns your leave to ask, Such forms to him appear a useless task. When themes unfinished stare you in the face, Then enters one of this accursed race. Though like the Angel bidding John to write, Frail———form uprises to thy sight, His stupid stories chase your thoughts away, And drive you mad with his unwelcome stay. When he, departing, creaks the closing door, You raise the Grecian chorus, [Greek: kikkabau]."[02] MS. Poem, F.E. Felton, Harv. Coll.

BOS. At the University of Virginia, the desserts which the students, according to the statutes of college, are allowed twice per week, are respectively called the Senior and Junior Bos.

BOSH. Nonsense, trash, [Greek: phluaria]. An English Cantab's expression.—Bristed.

But Spriggins's peculiar forte is that kind of talk which some people irreverently call "bosh."—Yale Lit. Mag., Vol. XX. p. 259.

BOSKY. In the cant of the Oxonians, being tipsy.—Grose.

Now when he comes home fuddled, alias Bosky, I shall not be so unmannerly as to say his Lordship ever gets drunk.—The Sizar, cited in Gradus ad Cantab., pp. 20, 21.

BOWEL. At Harvard College, a student in common parlance will express his destitution or poverty by saying, "I have not a bowel." The use of the word with this signification has arisen, probably, from a jocular reference to a quaint Scriptural expression.

BRACKET. At the University of Cambridge, Eng., the result of the final examination in the Senate-House is published in lists signed by the examiners. In these lists the names of those who have been examined are "placed in individual order of merit." When the rank of two or three men is the same, their names are inclosed in brackets.

At the close of the course, and before the examination is concluded, there is made out a new arrangement of the classes called the Brackets. These, in which each is placed according to merit, are hung upon the pillars in the Senate-House.—Alma Mater, Vol. II. p. 93.

As there is no provision in the printed lists for expressing the number of marks by which each man beats the one next below him, and there may be more difference between the twelfth and thirteenth than between the third and twelfth, it has been proposed to extend the use of the brackets (which are now only employed in cases of literal equality between two or three men), and put together six, eight, or ten, whose marks are nearly equal. —Bristed's Five Years in an Eng. Univ., Ed. 2d, p. 227.

BRACKET. In a general sense, to place in a certain order.

I very early in the Sophomore year gave up all thoughts of obtaining high honors, and settled down contentedly among the twelve or fifteen who are bracketed, after the first two or three, as "English Orations."—Bristed's Five Years in an Eng. Univ., Ed. 2d, p. 6.

There remained but two, bracketed at the foot of the class.—Ibid., p. 62.

The Trinity man who was bracketed Senior Classic.—Ibid., p. 187.

BRANDER. In the German universities a name given to a student during his second term.

Meanwhile large tufts and strips of paper had been twisted into the hair of the Branders, as those are called who have been already one term at the University, and then at a given signal were set on fire, and the Branders rode round the table on chairs, amid roars of laughter.—Longfellow's Hyperion, p. 114.

See BRAND-FOX, BURNT FOX.

BRAND-FOX. A student in a German university "becomes a Brand-fuchs, or fox with a brand, after the foxes of Samson," in his second half-year.—Howitt.

BRICK. A gay, wild, thoughtless fellow, but not so hard as the word itself might seem to imply.

He is a queer fellow—not so bad as he seems—his own enemy, but a regular brick.—Collegian's Guide, p. 143.

He will come himself (public tutor or private), like a brick as he is, and consume his share of the generous potables.—Bristed's Five Years in an Eng. Univ., Ed. 2d, p. 78.

See LIKE A BRICK.

BRICK MILL. At the University of Vermont, the students speak of the college as the Brick Mill, or the Old Brick Mill.

BUCK. At Princeton College, anything which is in an intensive degree good, excellent, pleasant, or agreeable, is called buck.

BULL. At Dartmouth College, to recite badly; to make a poor recitation. From the substantive bull, a blunder or contradiction, or from the use of the word as a prefix, signifying large, lubberly, blundering.

BULL-DOG. In the English universities, the lictor or servant who attends a proctor when on duty.

Sentiments which vanish for ever at the sight of the proctor with his bull-dogs, as they call them, or four muscular fellows which always follow him, like so many bailiffs.—Westminster Rev., Am. Ed., Vol. XXXV. p. 232.

The proctors, through their attendants, commonly called bull-dogs, received much certain information, &c.—Collegian's Guide, p. 170.

And he had breathed the proctor's dogs. Tennyson, Prologue to Princess.

BULLY CLUB. The following account of the Bully Club, which was formerly a most honored transmittendum at Yale College, is taken from an entertaining little work, entitled Sketches of Yale College. "Bullyism had its origin, like everything else that is venerated, far back in antiquity; no one pretends to know the era of its commencement, nor to say with certainty what was the cause of its establishment, or the original design of the institution. We can only learn from dim and doubtful tradition, that many years ago, no one knows how many, there was a feud between students and townsmen: a sort of general ill-feeling, which manifested itself in the lower classes of society in rudeness and insult. Not patiently borne with, it grew worse and worse, until a regular organization became necessary for defence against the nightly assaults of a gang of drunken rowdies. Nor were their opponents disposed to quit the unequal fight. An organization in opposition followed, and a band of tipsy townsmen, headed by some hardy tars, took the field, were met, no one knows whether in offence or defence, and after a fight repulsed, and a huge knotty club wrested from their leader. This trophy of personal courage was preserved, the organization perpetuated, and the Bully Club was every year, with procession and set form of speech, bestowed upon the newly acknowledged leader. But in process of time the organization has assumed a different character: there was no longer need of a system of defence—the "Bully" was still acknowledged as class leader. He marshalled all processions, was moderator of all meetings, and performed the various duties of a chief. The title became now a matter of dispute; it sounded harsh and rude to ears polite, and a strong party proposed a change: but the supporters of antiquity pleaded the venerable character of the customs identified almost with the College itself. Thus the classes were divided, a part electing a marshal, class-leader, or moderator, and a part still choosing a bully and minor bully—the latter usually the least of their number—from each class, and still bestowing on them the wonted clubs, mounted with gold, the badges of their office.

"Unimportant as these distinctions seem, they formed the ground of constant controversy, each party claiming for its leader the precedence, until the dissensions ended in a scene of confusion too well known to need detail: the usual procession on Commencement day was broken up, and the partisans fell upon each other pell-mell; scarce heeding, in their hot fray, the orders of the Faculty, the threats of the constables, or even the rebuke of the chief magistrate of the State; the alumni were left to find their seats in church as they best could, the aged and beloved President following in sorrow, unescorted, to perform the duties of the day. It need not be told that the disputes were judicially ended by a peremptory ordinance, prohibiting all class organizations of any name whatever."

A more particular account of the Bully Club, and of the manner in which the students of Yale came to possess it, is given in the annexed extract.

"Many years ago, the farther back towards the Middle Ages the better, some students went out one evening to an inn at Dragon, as it was then called, now the populous and pretty village of Fair Haven, to regale themselves with an oyster supper, or for some other kind of recreation. They there fell into an affray with the young men of the place, a hardy if not a hard set, who regarded their presence there, at their own favorite resort, as an intrusion. The students proved too few for their adversaries. They reported the matter at College, giving an aggravated account of it, and, being strongly reinforced, went out the next evening to renew the fight. The oystermen and sailors were prepared for them. A desperate conflict ensued, chiefly in the house, above stairs and below, into which the sons of science entered pell-mell. Which came off the worse, I neither know nor care, believing defeat to be far less discreditable to either party, and especially to the students, than the fact of their engaging in such a brawl. Where the matter itself is essentially disgraceful, success or failure is indifferent, as it regards the honor of the actors. Among the Dragoners, a great bully of a fellow, who appeared to be their leader, wielded a huge club, formed from an oak limb, with a gnarled excrescence on the end, heavy enough to battle with an elephant. A student remarkable for his strength in the arms and hands, griped the fellow so hard about the wrist that his fingers opened, and let the club fall. It was seized, and brought off as a trophy. Such is the history of the Bully Club. It became the occasion of an annual election of a person to take charge of it, and to act as leader of the students in case of a quarrel between them, and others. 'Bully' was the title of this chivalrous and high office."—Scenes and Characters in College, 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 sad occasions, the following dirge is selected. It appears in the order of exercises for the "Burial of Euclid by the Class of '57," which took place at Yale College, November 8, 1854.

Tune—"Auld Lang Syne."