To the mass of undergraduates who know nothing about fencing and have never been inside of a salon the name of M. Danguy means little. But to the group who swear eternal allegiance to the play of the swordsman--and there is no group of sportsmen anywhere more loyal to their game than fencers--the resignation of the man who has directed Harvard fencing for eight years means the passing of a well loved personality. Fresh from the schools of France, where swordsmanship is still the gentleman's exercise, M. Danguy brought to Harvard a knowledge of the sport which his Gallic fervor quickly imparted to his pupils. His success became apparent in the records of his teams, but even more in the devotion of the ever-increasing number of men who came to learn from him.
No one who has ever had his hat ordered from his head by M. Danguy in the fencing room will ever forget it. And those who have absently whistled a tune in the same sanctum will remember that such an exhibition of contentment is a breach of fencing etiquette. It was in the observance of such by-laws of his game that M. Danguy made himself known as much as in his ability to give to others something of his own skill. He will be missed by those who knew him, and their good wishes follow him to his retirement.