In the days when all the students were forced to take their meals in Commons, meal times were synonymous with disorder, not to say rioting. When Commons were forced by the College Library out of Harvard Hall into the newly erected University Hall, it was the fond hope of the Faculty that further disorder would be prevented by serving the meals in four separate rooms, one for each class.

"But like gunpowder placed in enclosed chambers," says Samuel F. Batchelder '93 in telling of the incident in his "Bits of Harvard History," the explosions were only more violent," and the warfare went merrily on. The kinds of ammunition used were many and various, but perhaps the favorite kind was hot potatoes dipped in steaming gravy. These were very effective, the records show. Moreover, the new method of segregation stirred up class spirit and thus added much enthusiasm to the conflicts.

One of these fights, which resulted in the departure of the Sophomore class, is commemorated in a long satiric poem, "The Rebelliad", much admired in its day. The incident started with a food fight between the Freshmen and the Sophomores at Sunday evening Commons in 1819:

"When Nathan threw a piece of bread

And hit Abijah on the head,

The wrathful Freshman, in a trice,

Sent back another bigger slice,

Which, being buttered pretty well,

Made greasy work where'er it fell.

And thus arose a fearful battle,

The coffee-cups and saucers rattle,

The bread-bowls fly at woeful rate,

And break full many a learned pate . . .

Regardless of their shins and pates

The bravest seiz'd the butter-plates,

And rushing headlong to the van,

Sustained the conflict man to man."

A sort of "scholastic Walpurgis Night" ensued; restraint was thrown to the winds and college exercises, as well as many students, were suspended. Finally, in a climax of resentment, the entire Sophomore class carried out its favorite threat and left Cambridge, 80 strong. A score or so were coaxed back and some 40 or 50 were subsequently pardoned.