What Happened to the Rebellion Tree?

There used to be a Rebellion Tree in the Yard. No longer does anyone know where it stood or when it was uprooted. Yet that it did exist is quite certain from the numerous references to it in old documents. And that it was the very symbol of the former rebellious spirit of the Harvard undergraduate--now apparently gone forever--is also quite certain.

The Rebellion Tree stood for open defiance during the nineteenth Century. The spirit it engendered in the undergraduate becomes clear in an excerpt from a poem entitled "The Rebellion," written by a student in memory of the Riot of 1819: "But Oh! the Sophs! their frantic yells Were louder far than lecture bells They form'd a ring about the Tree, And to this solemn oath agree: 'By This Almighty Plant, we swear. 'We will not flinch a single hair 'Until the laws of College rot, 'And government is sent to pot!'"

Professors understood the meaning of the Rebellion Tree as well. This entry appears in the Faculty Records for July 18,1821, for instance: "Great irregularity and disorder took place yesterday, being the day of valedictory. The class marched in procession thro' the several streets of Cambridge, many in a state of intoxication, and conducting with gross indecency and insult as they passed the houses of some of the officers; and in the College yard insulting the whole authority by dancing around the Rebellion Tree with the shout of friendship and rebellion."

The administration did its best to supress these outbursts. Faculty resolutions would be passed to examine the problem. students would be expelled. But nothing seemed to work untill the Great Rebellion of 1834. It was during May and June of this year that the Rebellion Tree had its greatest glory. President Josiah Quincy severely punished many students for this disturbance--he expelled all but three from the Sophomore Class. This fact alone may explain the subsequent lack of any serious outburst against the administration. More probably, however, students realized they could never hope to surpass the epic struggle of those two months, and so just gave up trying.

Poor Substitutes Nowadays

In any case, The Rebellion Tree spirit vanished forever from the College after the summer of 1834, eventually followed by its symbol as well. Pogo riots, football rallies, or Radcliffe raids are this generation's poor substitutes.

Fortunately, memories of the 1834 Riot are still very much alive. The Riot deserves such a sustained life, and it should live on as long as the University itself--unless a fairly astounding event occurs in the future to displace it.

May 19, 1834, signalled the opening of the Great Rebellion. An Instructor of the Freshman Class in Greek reported to Quincy that one freshman had refused to recite further, challenging his authority before the entire class.

Two days later the students, called before the President, still refused to apologize for his action. Threatened with disciplinary action, he decided "to take up his connexion with the Seminary."

That night between 10 p.m. and 1 a.m. the Greek Instructor's room was stoned, with considerable damage resulting. The following day, according to Quincy, "morning and evening daily prayers were . . . interrupted by scraping, whistling, groaning and other disgraceful noises, commencing in the Freshman Class, and seconded by the Sophomores. . ."

The rebellion had started in earnest. That night, the watchman protecting the college property was attacked. For the next four days, there were daily disturbances. Then on May 26, Quincy warned the freshman and sophomore classes that "legal process, civil or criminal," might be taken to punish or prevent "such outrages as had been committed on College property." That night there was more rioting.

By this time, the sophomores had taken the lead in the rebellion. On May 28, all of them, with three exceptions, skipped both morning and evening prayers. That night the faculty voted "That all members of the sophomore class, (with the above exceptions) be dismissed from the College and be ordered to leave Cambridge immediately after Commons; which, for that Class, are to cease after breakfast."

Such action did not help. On June 2, carrying out Quincy's earlier threat, the Faculty voted "that a prosecution should be instituted before the tribunals of the state.

Student retaliation was instantaneous. As Harvard historian Samuel E. Morrison puts it, "The 'black flag of rebellion' was hung from the roof of Holworthy... The juniors, led by Ebenezer Rockwood Hoar, voted to wear crape on their arms... and hanged Quincy's effigy to the Rebellion Tree..."

The juniors went further than this. They issued a statement to the public: "... Yielding to the suggestion of momentary passion, Mr. Quincy has formed a determination which no prudent man can approve, and which he pursues with an obstinacy which regards neither the dictates of reason nor of common sense. He is about to introduce into academical discipline the full rigor of criminal law. ..

The President's Peculiarities

"Mr. Quincy's peculiarities are, in this neighborhood, well understood. His characteristic ardor of feeling, obstinacy of determination, and impetuosity in action, are known to all who have met him in public or private life... These qualities may be valuable in a popular leader, but they are more than useless in the President of a College. Students, though liable to error through inexperience, are nevertheless disposed to yield to just laws when enforced with mildness and dignity! These two requisites are manifestly wanting in Mr. Quincy..."

A little more than a week later, on June 11, the Senior Class issued a circular containing its views on the rebellion. For their trouble, seven of the more active seniors "dismissed from College for an indefinite term; and prohibited from appearing in the town of Cambridge, or having any connection with it, untill after the first day of September next."

On August 25, a special committee, set up by the Overseers and headed by John Q. Adams, made public its report on the rebellion. Seniors received most of the blame, although they were not considered completely lost souls. "To the senior class is yet reserved the power of exhibiting the honourable example of return from transient error to generous and liberal submission," the report stated.

And So It Ends

By this time, the Rebellion had completely run its course. Many students were in fact brought before the Grand Jury of Middlesex, but only two or three indictments were found, and these were dropped. Similarly, Quincy issued a statement, to all parents of the expelled sophomores, stating that "in the present case, the dismission was for a time, wholly indefinite." Later it was announced the expelled boys could re-apply for admission after that summer's Commencement--a fact which did not save the Class of 1936 from being the second smallest since 1809, with only 39 graduates.

One anonymous person tried to continue the revolt after the committee report criticizing the seniors. But his efforts failed, despite his assertion that "we must have some indulgence for Mr. Adams' humor. The mortifications and disappointments of his life have soured the old man's temper--and he must needs disgorge his venom."

But it was impossible to continue the rebellion any longer. It was over. And with it, the Rebellion Tree--including the spirit for which it stood--passed into history.