To prevent the disturbances incident to the day, an attempt was made in 1727 to have the “Commencements for time to come more private than has been usual,” and for several years after, the time of Commencement was concealed; “only a short notice,” says Quincy, “being given to the public of the day on which it was to be held.”  Friday was the day agreed on, for the reason, says President Wadsworth in his Diary, “that there might be a less remaining time of the week spent in frolicking.”  This was very ill received by the people of Boston and the vicinity, to whom Commencement was a season of hilarity and festivity; the ministers were also dissatisfied, not knowing the day in some cases, and in others being subjected to great inconvenience on account of their living at a distance from Cambridge.  The practice was accordingly abandoned in 1736, and Commencement, as formerly, was held on Wednesday, to general satisfaction.  In 1749, “three gentlemen,” says Quincy, “who had sons about to be graduated, offered to give the College a thousand pounds old tenor, provided ’a trial was made of Commencements this year, in a more private manner.’” The proposition, after much debate, was rejected, and “public Commencements were continued without interruption, except during the period of the Revolutionary war, and occasionally, from temporary causes, during the remainder of the century, notwithstanding their evils, anomalies, and inconsistencies."[05]

The following poetical account of Commencement at Harvard College is supposed to have been written by Dr. Mather Byles, in the year 1742 or thereabouts.  Of its merits, this is no place to speak.  As a picture of the times it is valuable, and for this reason, and to show the high rank which Commencement Day formerly held among other days, it is here presented.

 “COMMENCEMENT.

 “I sing the day, bright with peculiar charms,
  Whose rising radiance ev’ry bosom warms;
  The day when Cambridge empties all the towns,
  And youths commencing, take their laurel crowns: 
  When smiling joys, and gay delights appear,
  And shine distinguish’d, in the rolling year.

 “While the glad theme I labour to rehearse,
  In flowing numbers, and melodious verse,
  Descend, immortal nine, my soul inspire,
  Amid my bosom lavish all your fire,
  While smiling Phoebus, owns the heavenly layes
  And shades the poet with surrounding bayes. 
  But chief ye blooming nymphs of heavenly frame,
  Who make the day with double glory flame,
  In whose fair persons, art and nature vie,
  On the young muse cast an auspicious eye: 
  Secure of fame, then shall the goddess sing,
  And rise triumphant with a tow’ring wing,
  Her tuneful notes wide-spreading all around,
  The hills shall echo, and the vales resound.